Twenty years ago on May 4, 1990, 138 deputies in the Supreme Council of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Latvia passed a declaration that made the Latvian SSR null and void. At the same time they reinstated the independent Republic of Latvia that had been founded on November 18, 1918.

Since the Latvian SSR was considered by Moscow to be part of the USSR in 1990, this declaration wasn’t immediately recognised by the powers that be in the Kremlin. In fact, it took another 15 months for Latvia’s restored independence to be recognized by the world, and that only happened after the USSR itself collapsed and came apart.

But voting for an independent Latvia on May 4, 1990 was a bold move of enormous political consequences, and a clear indication to the world that the old USSR was rapidly losing its control of what Ronald Reagan had once famously called the Evil Empire.

For example, the Latvian Supreme Council itself had just been reconstituted through Soviet elections in March 1990, and for the first time in Soviet history, a majority of its deputies were no longer Communist Party loyalists. They not only favoured Latvia’s independence but reminded the world that Soviet rule in Latvia had been illegal since 1940. The 1990 re-declaration of Latvia’s independence began the process of dismantling this illegal rule and re-establishing the constitution, institutions and values of the sovereign Latvian state first established in 1918.

In all, 201 deputies had been elected to the 1990 Supreme Soviet, but when it came time to vote on the restoration of independence, 138 voted in favour, 0 voted against, and 1 abstained. Those deputies that were still loyal to the Soviet regime simply didn’t vote one way or another.

It was an incredibly emotional day in Latvia on May 4^th, especially in the square in front of the parliament, which was filled overflowing with thousands of well-wishers. As they emerged from the parliament building the 138 deputies who voted “yes” were greeted by tears, cheers and emotional ovations from the huge crowd.

Three days after this declaration on May 7, the Supreme Council chose Ivars Godmanis to be its chairman and (in effect) prime minister. In less than 3 months, on July 31, 1990, Ivars Godmanis and his Foreign Minister Jānis Jurkāns were sitting in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington, D.C. talking to President of the United States George Bush. They talked about the restoration of Latvia’s independence.

For anyone who is under the age of 20 it’s almost impossible to imagine what life was like in Latvia under Soviet rule. It’s equally difficult to imagine that in 1990, apart from some patriotically impassioned people in Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, there was nearly no one on this planet who could imagine a world without the Soviet Union.

And yet 15 months later, not only did the pugnacious Baltic States of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia restore their full independence from the Evil Empire, 12 other Soviet Republics un-sovietised themselves. Among them was a country we know of today as the Russian Federation.

Russia, in some political form or another, has been around for centuries, but the Russian Federation that exists today was founded on December 26, 1991. That makes the Republic of Latvia – founded in 1918 and restored in 1991 – 73 years older than its prominent neighbour to the east.

While Rīga and Moscow may sometimes disagree on the details of history, I like to think that when Latvian re-declared its independence 20 years on May 4, 1990, we made it a little bit easier for Russia to achieve its independence one year later.

When I was lobbying for Latvia’s independence in the late 1980’s, I used to tell Washington politicians that the Soviet and Nazi occupations of Latvia were just a brief 50-year interruption in the history of the Latvian Republic. When Latvia’s independence was restored in 1991, I had the honour of joining one Latvian state institution that had indeed continued to function uninterrupted since 1918. A new exhibit at the Latvian Foreign Ministry shows just how this Ministry both survived and renewed itself when Latvia restored its independence 20 years ago.

This 92-year long track record was made possible during the years of occupation by Latvia’s diplomats in exile, most notably Dr. Anatols Dinbergs, who maintained Latvia’s de jure status in London and Washington, D.C., for half a century. That is a story in and of itself. But the Foreign Ministry’s new exhibit focuses on the years of 1990 – 1991, when a new generation of inexperienced but decidedly determined diplomats in Rīga began to rebuild Latvia’s diplomatic corps and re-establish Latvia’s foreign relations with the rest of the world.

Actually, the re-establishment of the independent Republic of Latvia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs began in May 1990, 15 months before Latvia’s independence was “re-recognized” internationally. Following the May 4, 1990 Supreme Council vote to restore independence, a new government was formed under the leadership of Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis. With the choice of Jānis Jurkāns as the new Foreign Minister, the “old” Foreign Ministry began to reconstitute itself.

The young men and women who assumed diplomatic duties at the small but eclectically elegant building at Pils street 11 in Rīga’s Old Town had no formal training and no ties to the former Soviet regime that had previously occupied the building. They had a few old typewriters, some telephones of questionable reliability and a telex machine that enabled them to make limited contact with the outside world. What they didn’t lack was dedication, patriotism and a fierce commitment to learn the nuts and bolts of their newly assumed diplomatic craft.

The exhibit in the vestibule of the Foreign Ministry displays some of those phones, as well as other seemingly ancient artefacts from 20 years ago, including passports, diplomatic notes, photographs and other ministry memorabilia. You can see the Ministry’s first “mobile” phone, a bulky Panasonic that was the size of a small toolbox and weighed several kilos.

The remarkable thing is that while the glass cases reveal the stuff of the past, many of the people who used that stuff are still with the Ministry today. In fact, Latvia’s last two Foreign Ministers, Aivis Ronis and Māris Riekstiņš, both began their careers in those early years. So did Latvia’s present Defence Minister Imants Lieģis.

Fresh-faced foreign service officers like Mārtiņš Virsis, Ints Upmacis, Ivars Pundurs, Alberts Sarkanis, Argita Daudze, Normans Penke, Aivars Vovers, and Atis Sjanītis, who were opening embassies and establishing diplomatic contacts in the early 90’s, are today experienced elder statesmen with ambassador rank in Latvia’s diplomatic corps. If it seems like Anita Prince, Bonifācijs Daukšts, Klāvs Sniedze and Irēna Putniņa have been with the Foreign Ministry forever, you’re probably right. (For anyone under the age of 20 today, that is forever.)

Sandra Kalniete was the Ministry’s first Chief of Protocol, went on to become Ambassador, Foreign Minister, and EU Commissioner, and today serves as a member of the European Parliament.

One of the glass cases displays Foreign Minister Jurkāns’ first diplomatic passport with the number 00003 (Number 00001 was given to Popular Front leader Dainis āªvāns, 00002 to the Chairman of the Supreme Council Anatolijs Gorbunovs, and 00004 to Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis). The blanks for these original diplomatic passports had to be shipped to Rīga from the Latvian Legation in Washington, D.C., where they had been safeguarded for half a century.

In his recollections as the first Foreign Minister of the renewed ministry, Jānis Jurkāns also gives generous credit to Latvia’s leading exile organisation, the World Federation of Free Latvians, and its leaders, Gunārs Meierovics, Jānis Ritenis, and Egils Levits. They not only helped their Rīga colleagues with the re-establishment of the diplomatic corps and sundry legal documents, but also went on to become ministers in ensuing Latvian governments. The stately conference room next to the Ministry’s vestibule is named after Gunārs Meierovics’ father, Latvia’s first Foreign Minister Zigfrīds Anna Meierovics.

The exhibit includes a 52-minute documentary film called “The Renewers”, which focuses on the recollections and life stories of 16 individuals who played key roles in re-establishing the work of the Foreign Ministry in 1990/1991. But that’s only a tribute to the last 20 years. The rest of the story, I’m happy to say, is to be continued.

On January 7, 2010 in a quiet neighborhood on the northwest side of Washington, D.C. the Latvian government sold a small piece of land that once had a big impact on our country’s history The brown brick 2-story building on the corner of 17^th and Webster in Washington, D.C. may have served as Latvia’s first Embassy in the United States for 14 years, but for many, it will always be remembered in its first diplomatic incarnation, as The Legation of Latvia.

What exactly is a ‘legation’ and why were Latvia and Lithuania the last countries in the world to have them? In the beginning of the last century, most foreign diplomatic missions were called ‘legations’, but after World War II it became fashionable to upgrade them to embassies. Unlike Latvia and Lithuania, which established legations in pre-war Washington, D.C., Estonia chose instead to open a general consulate in New York. Since all three countries came under Soviet occupation in 1940, none of them could upgrade to their missions to embassies, and their designations remained frozen in place during the Cold War.

Thanks to the U.S. non-recognition policy, and despite endless protests from the Soviets, these three Baltic missions and their envoys-in-exile retained their official status, and had the same immunity and privileges of other diplomatic representations in the United States. They drove cars with diplomatic plates, conducted business with State Department officials, and were invited to meet the President in the White House once a year.

Prior to World War II, the Lithuanians managed to purchase a splendid building on 16^th. street, coincidently, just down the block from the Polish legation. The Estonians rented an office in Manhattan’s Rockefeller Center. Both continued to use these same facilities after the Soviet occupation in 1940. The Latvians were renters in Washington until 1953, when they bought the modest brick 2-story family house in a residential neighborhood on the corner of 17^th and Webster.

The Latvian diplomats who served in the Washington Legation from the 40’s until the 90’s were all career diplomats who had served in other countries prior to the war and had refused to return to Soviet-ruled Latvia. Since the United Kingdom also allowed Latvia to retain a Legation, those who didn’t go to London came to Washington. Many were accomplished scholars, and supplemented their limited diplomatic duties in exile by writing extensively about Latvian history and culture. Two of the best English-language histories of Latvia were written by Latvian diplomats in Washington, D.C.: Alfred Bilmanis (1187-1948) and Arnolds Spekke (1887–1972). Spekke headed the Washington Legation from 1963 until 1971 and worked on his seminal work from his corner office at 17^th and Webster. From Washington, the diplomats also maintained close ties with the Latvian exile community. As head of the Legation, Julijs Feldmanis (1889-1953), played a key role in the establishment of the American Latvian Association (1953), which grew to become the largest and most influential Latvian organization in the diaspora.

Anatols Dinbergs (1911- 1993) took over the D.C. Legation in 1971, during which time he also wrote his PhD thesis at Georgetown University. Heads of mission were formally called ‘charges d’affaires’ in diplomatic circles, and Dinbergs held this title for 20 years. During the 1980’s, Dinbergs, Stasys Lozoraitis of Lithuania and Ernst Jaakson of Estonia, were well known in Washington, D.C. as the grand old men of Baltic diplomacy. They were the keepers of the keys, the guardians of Baltic sovereignty and true diplomats in every sense of the word.

When I joined the Legation in January 1991 as its public affairs liaison, Dinbergs had two fully accredited diplomats on his staff: Valdemars Kreicbergs (1912-1995) and Jānis LÅ«sis (1945). While Kreicbergs, like Dinbergs, Spekke, and others had been part of Latvia’s original diplomatic corps prior to the occupation, LÅ«sis was something of a diplomatic precedent. He was born in a refugee camp in Germany and had grown up in Canada. In the mid 1980’s as the number of Latvia’s living pre-war diplomats dwindled, Dinbergs feared that the Legation could be forced to close its doors after his tenure ended. So he convinced the U.S. State Department to allow him to appoint new diplomats to keep the Legation functioning after his eventual departure. There was just one condition: they couldn’t be U.S. citizens. LÅ«sis, a Latvian with Canadian citizenship, joined the Washington Legation in 1986. He served as 1^st secretary of the Legation until 1991 and is the only person to become a fully accredited Latvian diplomat during the years of occupation. Jānis later became counselor at Washington embassy, and served as Latvia’s ambassador in the UK, Canada and Italy.

Jānis LÅ«sis is also one of only three people still alive who have worked at the building at 17^th and Webster when it was still a Legation. In addition to myself, the third person is a remarkable woman named Luti Moran. If Anatols Dinbergs was the ‘head’ of the Legation for two decades, Luti was its heart. She also happened to be a Filipina, although by the early 80’s many Latvians who called the Legation and spoke to this charming secretary were convinced she was from Latgale. Luti not only managed the day-to-business of the Legation and served as Dinberg’s personal secretary, she also became fluent enough in Latvian to carry on lengthy conversations with callers.

While Legation diplomats maintained close ties with the Latvian-American community and its organizations, it had no contact whatsoever with Soviet-occupied Latvia. This changed with the rise of the Popular Front in 1989, as glasnost allowed Latvian activists to visit Washington, D.C. For many, the Legation was the end point of sacred pilgrimage, for when they stepped through the doors of the house on 17^th and Webster, they were setting foot for the first time on the fully independent and sovereign territory of the Republic of Latvia.

Every diplomatic mission answers to its foreign minister and home government, but during the Soviet occupation, the Latvian Legation had neither. Just before the occupation, the Latvian Cabinet of Ministers empowered Latvia’s chief diplomat in London, Kārlis Zariņš, to head all missions abroad and represent the Republic of Latvia if the government falls. After Zariņš death in 1963, this authority fell to the head of the Legation in Washington, D.C. In June 1990, another precedent was set when Latvia’s newly elected Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis and Foreign Minister Jānis Jurkāns walked past the oval metal shield designating 17^th and Webster as the Legation of Latvia, and passed through the white double doors that led to the office of the charges d’affaires, Dr. Anatols Dinbergs. For the first time since Latvia’s occupation, the head of its diplomatic corps was meeting face to face with his foreign minister.

The meeting was ‘unofficial’ because Godmanis and Jurkāns represented what was still the (diplomatically unrecognized) Soviet Republic of Latvia, while Dinbergs represented the independent (but illegally occupied) Republic of Latvia. For this reason, Dinbergs was not able to accompany Godmanis and Jurkāns to the White House later that week when they met with President George Bush. But contacts had been established between 17^th and Webster and Riga, and while de facto would not become de jure for another 15 months, the diplomatic die had been cast.

By 1991, a steady stream of Popular Front and LNNK leaders began to make regular visits. One of my key contacts was Sarmīte Elerte, who worked in the press office of the Popular Front, but was already creating the new daily newspaper ’Diena’. Communication with Latvia largely took place through my computer which had a telex connection to the Latvian Foreign Ministry. (Internet was still many years away.) In my 2^nd floor, back porch office, I got a blow-by-blow account of the Omon attacks in Riga during the Days of the Barricades from Ints Upmacis, who manned the Ministry’s telex until the Black Berets chased him and other staffers from their offices.

The Washington media had largely ignored the obscure diplomatic mission at 17^th and Webster during the Cold War, but in 1991 it became a center of attention and a major source of news about what was happening in Latvia. On September 2, 1991 Dr. Anatols Dinberg’s corner office was packed with cameras, reporters and well-wishers, all with their eyes glued to a TV set that was broadcasting live coverage of a press conference in Kennebunkport, Maine. When President Bush announced that the United States had restored full diplomatic relations with the Latvian government in Riga, we popped the champagne corks and Dr. Dinbergs became the lead story on the evening news. With that, the days of the Latvian ‘Legation’ were numbered. Not long after, Dinbergs was appointed Ambassador to the United States. And the brick house at 4325 17^th Street N.W. that for 38 years had stood on the sovereign soil of the Republic of Latvia, became a full-fledged, honest-to-goodness Embassy.

I spent the next 8 years at the ‘Embassy’ at 17^th, and Webster, seven of those as Ambassador. My first Deputy Chief of Mission was my old telex-colleague from the Foreign Ministry, Ints Upmacis, who later became Latvia’s Ambassador to Portugal. Since 2000, Aivis Ronis, Māris Riekstiņš and Andrejs Pildegovicš have followed in Anatols Dinbergs’ footsteps as Latvian Ambassadors to the United States. Māris Riekstiņš (now Foreign Minister) was the last Latvian ambassador to work at 17^th and Webster, for it was under his tenure that a new embassy building was purchased on Washington’s prestigious  ‘Embassy Row’ at 2306 Massachusetts Ave, on Sheridan Circle.

So despite its 14 years of service as Latvia’s Embassy in the United States, when I heard the news that the building at 17^th and Webster had finally been sold, I thought of it one last time in the way I knew it most fondly: The Legation. For almost 4 decades it stood as a symbol of our sovereignty, and a testimony to the patriotism, stubbornness and dignity of our diplomatic corps. It may have been a small piece of Latvia, but it played a huge role in the history of our country.

In 1989, there was a Wall and a Way.

One came down and the other rose up. The wall was named after the city of Berlin, and it extended way beyond the steel and concrete barrier that split Germany during the Cold War. The Berlin Wall was the visible portion of the Iron Curtain that had divided Europe since Churchill popularized the phrase in 1946. Ronald Reagan went to Berlin in 1987 and challenged Gorbachev to ‘take down this wall’. Gorbachev never got around to it, but in 1989 the German people took the wall down themselves. 1989 was a momentous year in world politics, and the dismantling of the Berlin Wall was one if its most momentous events.

But two months prior to the collapse of the Berlin Wall, on August 23, 1989, far behind the Iron Curtain, two million Latvians, Lithuanians and Estonians joined hands on the highways that linked their countries in a massive demonstration for national independence. They called it the Baltic Way. This human chain stretched for over 600 km from Tallinn, Estonia in the north, through Riga, Latvia, to Vilnius, Lithuania in the south. Like the Berlin Wall, the Baltic Way had a significance that far exceeded the actual kilometers it covered.

The fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989 brought a crashing conclusion to a year that brought down the Iron Curtain and dismantled Soviet influence in Central and Eastern Europe. If you’re old enough to remember 1968, you probably loved 1989. This was the year that Poland’s Solidarnosc won the national elections, Hungary re-declared itself a democratic republic, the Communist government of East Germany resigned, the Romanian people overthrew Nicolae Ceausescu, and Czechoslovakia went through a Velvet Revolution that led to the election of Vaclev Havel as president. All in one year,1989.

If the end of the Berlin Wall meant the end of Soviet satellite states in Europe, the Baltic Way demonstration across Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia signaled the beginning of the end of Soviet influence within the Soviet Union. From Stalin to Gorbachev, national protest against Soviet rule had always been unthinkable. Or so everyone thought. That thinking seemed justified when in February 1989, Georgian demonstrators took to the streets of Tblisi and Soviet soldiers fired on them, killing 20. But six months later, when two million Balts defied Soviet authorities to hold an unsanctioned and unprecedented show of peaceful force, the Soviet authorities did nothing. Mahatma Ghandi would have been impressed.

Moscow did condemn the massive Baltic demonstration, and in the next two years the use of Soviet force did take lives in Vilnius and Riga. But by then the genie was out of the bottle and the Baltic States were on their way to independence. In August of 1991, just two years after the historic 1989 Baltic Way demonstration, the three Baltic States restored their sovereignty and rejoined the world community as independent countries again.

This year we mark the 20th anniversary of the tumultuous events of 1989. BBC, CNN and countless other global news networks and international organisations will mark the memories and moments, while their experts discuss the turning points, and historians reflect on the ironies. One of those ironies is that the Baltic Way itself was marking a special anniversary. August 23rd, 1989, was the 50th anniversary of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. This was the infamous Stalin-Hitler agreement in 1939 that led to the eventual occupation of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, and served as a blueprint for erecting the Iron Curtain across Europe.

In August 1989, the Baltic people started taking down their part of that Soviet Curtain. In November 1989, the German people did the same. The Baltic Way was a like a giant arrow that struck the Berlin Wall from within. To many of us baby boomers who lived through the Cold War, the stunning geopolitical convulsions of 1989 came unexpectedly. Especially if you worked in Washington, London, or Brussels. But if you lived in Riga, Prague, Budapest, or Berlin, you knew it was time for a change.

Each of us who lived through those years will remember them differently. But for me, the image is pretty vivid. In 1989 we proved that wherever there’s a
wall, there’s always a way.

This was written for a German TV station (ARTE) web page marking the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

For most Balts, the process of democratization was synonymous with the restoration of independence. We were democratic countries before our occupation in 1940, and could only be so again if our legal independence were restored.

For me, the democratization wave of 1989 began on June 14, 1987 when a thousand Latvians had the courage to defy the Soviet KGB and place flowers at the Latvian Freedom Monument in the heart of Riga. By August 23, the anniversary of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, similar pro-independence demonstrations took place in Lithuania and Estonia as well. We were inspired by what Solidarnosc had done in Poland, and encouraged (albeit inadvertently) by Gorbachev’s policies of glasnost and perestroika.

Baltic independence seemed only possible with the retreat of the Soviet Empire, and the defeat of the Soviets in Afghanistan in early 1989, coupled with growing democratic movements in the Warsaw Pact countries, was a clear signal that something was indeed changing. As a Latvian-American lobbyist in Washington, D.C. I saw the establishments of Baltic ‘popular fronts’ not only as moves toward democracy, but also independence.

From 1987 on, I worked closely with the Latvian Popular Front (LTF) and the Latvian National Independence Movement (LNNK). In August 1989, both organizations had bold plans for the 50^th anniversary of the notorious Stalin-Hitler Pact. The LNNK planned an international conference on self-determination in Riga, and the LTF was working with its counterparts in Estonia and Lithuania to organize The Baltic Way.

I had been born in a Latvian refugee camp in Munich after World War II and had grown up in the United States. Until 1989, ‘independent’ Latvia meant the country my parents had lived in from 1918 until 1940. But in August of 1989, I arrived in Riga along with a U.S. Senator named Bob Kasten, who was inexplicably allowed by the Soviets to participate in the LNNK conference on self-determination. A day later, on August 23^rd, I stood at the foot of the Latvian Freedom Monument, at the mid-point of the 600 km human chain that extended from Tallinn, Estonia, through Riga, to Vilnius, Lithuania. I was just one of 2 million Balts who sent a powerful message to Moscow – and the world – that independence for Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia was no longer a dream. Two years later, that dream became a reality.

We Balts had been watching closely what was happening in Hungary and other Eastern European countries. As Hungarians proclaimed their republic in 1989, what did they think about the Baltic chances of restoring their independence?

If you check Wikipedia you will find that at least 58 important things have happened on May 9, dating back to 1457 BC. They include a solar eclipse in 1012 BC, a Christopher Columbus voyage in 1502 and the convening of the first Australian parliament in 1927. For many in the world it is also Mother’s Day.

But for most people on the northern half of the land mass between the Pacific Ocean in the east and the Atlantic Ocean in the west, it means one of two things, and both are celebrations.

For members of the European Union it is Europe Day, because on this day in 1950, French Foreign Minister Robert Schuman proposed the Schuman Declaration which led to the creation of the European Union. They first called it the European Coal and Steel Community, and it’s gone through various other names as well, but today we know and love it as the EU and we celebrate it’s birthday on May 9. Thank you Robert Schuman!

In countries like Latvia, which joined the EU in 2004, Europe Day is an increasingly noticed event because we hold a Europe Day garden party in Vērmanes Park in the heart of Rīga. Thousands participate to celebrate and learn more about the EU. Most EU countries celebrate Europe Day, and so does Turkey, even though it is still waiting to join.

While Europeans will be celebrating Europe Day on May 9, many in Russia and its neighbouring countries will celebrate it as Victory Day. For them this marks the capitulation of Nazi Germany to the Soviet Union on May 9, 1945. As EU citizens celebrate the beginning of the EU, the people of Russia celebrate the end of The Great Patriotic War.

In countries like Latvia, that serve as home to EU citizens as well as Russians, both meanings of May 9 are celebrated. There are some who believe this is divisive, but it shouldn’t be. Both events are worthy of celebration, regardless of your ethnicity or citizenship. The creation of the EU has brought peace to Europe and strives to promote unity. The end of Russia’s Great Patriotic War ended a bloody conflict in which over 23 million Russians and other Soviets died fighting Nazi Germany.

Some Latvians resent the celebration of Victory Day because the end of the Nazi invasion of Russia meant the re-establishment of the Soviet occupation of Latvia. Russians resent the fact that Latvians won’t recognize their suffering in the Great Patriotic War. This resentment comes from two different interpretations of what is perceived as the same war.

But what if it wasn’t the same war? What if there were actually two different wars going on concurrently?

The explanation goes like this: World War II began in September 1939 when Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union invaded Poland. During this war, the Baltic States of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia were occupied by the Soviet Union in 1940, by Nazi Germany in 1941 and again by the USSR in 1944. That occupation continued until 1991.

The Great Patriotic War, on the other hand, began with Operation Barbarossa on June 22, 1941 when Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union, and brought tremendous destruction and suffering to the Russian people. Leningrad was put under siege and bloody battles were fought from Moscow to Kursk to Stalingrad. The Great Patriotic War was fought in the heart of Russia and it was Russian people who suffered in huge numbers.

The end of any war is worth celebrating, and there is no reason why Latvians cannot join their Russian neighbours in celebrating the end of this bloody Nazi attack on Russia and its people. Tragically, the end of the Great Patriotic War did not end suffering in the Baltic States, and there is no reason why Russians can’t join their Baltic neighbours in acknowledging this as well.

As long as we look at the conflict between 1939 and 1945 as one war, there will be endless interpretations (and thus arguments) of what is true. But if you look at it as Two Wars, it is a lot easier to agree on one truth.

The truth is, we all suffered. For different reasons, at the hands of different governments, and in the name of different ideologies. None of these exist anymore. We are Latvians, Russians and Europeans, this is the 21^st century, and May 9^th gives us all an opportunity to reflect on the past, respect each other’s histories, and work together to ensure a better future. And also tell our moms how much we love them.

The date of March 16 didn’t become controversial in Latvia until the early 1990’s, when several Latvian organisations chose this day to honour Latvian soldiers who fought and died in the Latvian Legion during World War II.

The Latvian Legion was created by the Nazi German occupation forces in 1943 as combat divisions called the Waffen SS. After their invasion and takeover of Latvia in 1941, German authorities would not allow Latvian nationals to arm themselves, for fear that they would turn their guns on the Germans. But by 1943 Latvia faced a re-invasion of Soviet troops who were pushing the retreating German forces back out of Russia and Eastern Europe. The Germans needed additional manpower to hold back the Soviets and began conscripting young Latvians into two special Latvian divisions of Waffen SS units. The Germans had created such combat units in Estonia, Finland and many other occupied countries, and despite the “SS” designation, they had nothing to do with the Gestapo.

The fact that this was a violation of the Hague and Geneva Conventions meant nothing to the Germans. The Germans needed more soldiers and would not allow foreigners in the German army, so they created special “weapons” SS units to fill their need. Those who refused the draft faced punishment or execution, so most submitted. Some justified their presence in the units because they believed that by fighting side by side with other Latvians, they would hasten the German departure and keep the Soviets from re-occupying their country a second time. In their minds, they weren’t fighting for the Germans, but against the Soviets.

But they were forced to wear Nazi German uniforms with SS emblems on them and half a century later, questions about who they were, what they did and why they did it have become a subject of earnest discussion among historians and impassioned debate among others.

Those who chose March 16th as a day of remembrance for the veterans of the Latvian Legion did so because on this day in 1944 the 15th and 19th divisions of the Latvian Legion joined forces to battle the advancing Soviet army at the Velikaya River in Russia. This is the only time in the war that these two divisions fought side by side.

The surviving veterans who wish to observe this day denounce fascism and Nazism, deny that they ever committed atrocities during the war, and insist that they were fighting, albeit in vain, for the restoration of Latvia’s independence. For them, March 16th is a day to go to church, to cemeteries or the Freedom Monument in Rīga, and honour friends and family members who died fighting with the Latvian Legion during World War II.

But not everyone sees it that way.

It’s understandable why many Jews in the world, especially Holocaust survivors, are troubled by any show of respect for soldiers who fought on the German side during the war. While many will acknowledge that the Latvian Legion itself did not participate in the Holocaust (the Nazi-managed mass murder of Jews in Latvia had ended before the Legion was created), the mere fact that Latvian soldiers fought under German command is enough to prompt distrust and condemnation.

Many Russians also object to any show of respect for the Latvian Legion because the Latvians fought, with great ferocity at that, against the Soviet Red Army. For those Russians who still identify with the former Soviet Union, the combatants of the Latvian Legion were, and still are, the enemy.

One tragedy in all this is that Latvians were forced to fight on both sides of the Eastern Front. During the first Soviet occupation of Latvia, many Latvians were drafted into the Red Army as well. Thus, Latvians on the German side fought Latvians on the Soviet side, although most felt little loyalty to Germany or the USSR. Under orders from Moscow and Berlin, brother fought against brother and father against son. They were victims of overlapping occupations and pawns in the alternating power grabs of Hitler and Stalin. They were young Latvian men caught in the middle, and no matter which way they looked, they saw the enemy.

The details as to how and why it all happened, and who did what to whom is something usually left to historians to debate. But when a Latvian veteran organization decided to honour the Latvian Legion on March 16th, they confronted a vocal and sometimes aggressive opposition, which brought the debate to the streets. Since the first commemoration of March 16th in the early 90’s, it has been a day of confrontation, controversy and conflicting international media coverage.

The Latvian government does not recognize March 16th as an official day, and recommends that all activities intended to honour Latvia’s war dead – regardless of which war they fought in – should be on November 11, or Laāplēsis Day. Because March 16 processions to the Freedom Monument have in recent years been a catalyst for conflict, most veterans choose to go to churches or cemeteries to pay their respects. They have no desire to make a political statement of any kind and simply want to honour their relatives and comrades-in-arms.

But groups with a more radical agenda have seized this day to popularize their causes and generate colourful video-bites for TV news shows. Unfortunately, the tears, flowers and all the historical nuances get lost in the shouting. The debate over what really happened in the past has become an argument over what people should be allowed to do in the present.

For some, March 16th is the day a major battle took place. For others, it is a day of solemn remembrance. Some see it as a slap in the face of their ancestors. Others see it as a way to honour their ancestors. For others still it is a chance to get on the evening news and shout slogans that no one really understands. But for almost all the people of Latvia, it is a day when the sorrow, anger and confusion of the past are painfully brought back to life in an equally confusing present.

Desegregating the Latvian school system ends a divisive Soviet legacy.

Although Latvia has made great strides in rebuilding a fair and democratic society since restoring independence in 1991, not all aspects of the Soviet legacy have been that easy to eradicate. One of those legacies was a segregated school system that divided ethnic Latvians and Russians. This year, the Latvian government enters the 6^th year of an 8-year program designed to end this divisive situation. Although the program is designed to promote social integration, equal opportunity and citizenship for all of Latvia’s residents, it has encountered opposition from some politicians and segments of the ethnic Russian population. Why would ethnic Russians oppose a plan designed to enhance their opportunities for education, employment and civic involvement?

The answer is also part of a Soviet legacy that encourages some politicians to exploit social divisions and apprehensions

During the Soviet occupation, hundreds of thousands of Soviet citizens, mostly of ethnic Russian origin, established residence in Latvia, and remained there after the break up of the Soviet Union. Many were brought in as part of Stalin’s Russification campaign. Most spoke only Russian, as did their eventual Latvia-born children and grandchildren. When Latvia restored its independence in 1991, they all found themselves in a country that had re-established its national sovereignty, state language and Latvian identity. They were former Soviets, mostly of Russian ethnicity, now living in the Republic of Latvia.

After adoption of the Law on Citizenship in 1994, a Naturalisation board was established in 1995, enabling former Soviets to apply for Latvian citizenship. All permanent residents of Latvia who could pass a Latvian language and history test could become citizens. The process of naturalisation was slow, in part because a large segment of the ethnic Russian population could not speak Latvian. A national Latvian language training programme was established in 1996 to help residents acquire the language skills needed to qualify for citizenship.

The rate of naturalisation among older persons was low due to the difficulty of learning a new language. It was hoped, however, that younger Russian-speaking residents would not find it a hardship. However, since many ethnic Russians continued to study in the 159 exclusively Russian-language state schools, the rate of naturalisation continued to lag even among the young.

While the retention of the Russian schools was initially considered a gesture of good will during a difficult transition period, it soon became clear that these schools were fostering segregation, which led to de facto discrimination. Pupils who could only speak Russian could not become citizens, had difficulty integrating into Latvian society and had limited higher education and employment opportunities.

To correct this situation, a Law on Education was adopted in 1998. The law was designed to increase proficiency in the Latvian language, while preserving and protecting the rights of students to attend minority schools where instruction was also offered in eight minority languages. Russian and pupils from other ethnic groups would receive a bilingual education that would enable them to retain their ethnic traditions and identities, while acquiring the language skills necessary for full participation in Latvian civic life.

The program to introduce Latvian language study in minority schools included a gradual phasing in of bilingual courses over a period of years, giving parents and students sufficient time to prepare for the changes. Bilingual curricula were introduced to primary schools in the 2002/2003 school year. An increased proportion of Latvian-language curricula will be introduced to secondary schools on September 2004.

The 8-year program was designed to provide pupils ample time to prepare for the transition to bilingual education. During the first 5 years no one objected. But in 2003, as changes in the secondary school courses were being prepared, political organisations emerged in opposition to the plan. Encouraged by a few radical parliamentarians and led by adult activists, some Russian secondary school pupils began to organise protests against the final phase of the program. They demanded that the law be changed and that state-financed Russian schools remain exclusively Russian-language institutions.

The size and aggressive nature of the protests has grown over the last year. Methods have become more sophisticated and confrontational, and have received sizable financial support from unknown sources. The Russian Government has also weighed into the controversy, condemning the Latvian Government’s educational program and expressing support for the protest movement. Politicians who support the protestors, both in Latvia and Russia, have also made additional demands. They not only oppose the educational reforms, but are demanding changes in Latvia’s language and citizenship policies. Both of these positions, which would increase segregation and reverse integration in Latvia, have long been Russian Government policies toward Latvia.

Despite Russia’s protests, which amount to interference in another state’s internal affairs, the Latvian government’s language, citizenship and educational policies have received broad international support. Meeting international standards on these issues was necessary in order for Latvia to qualify for EU and NATO membership. Latvia was welcomed into both organisations earlier this year. The Council of Europe and the OSCE have also endorsed Latvia’s policies, particularly in regard to educational reform.

Following a March 2004 fact finding trip to Latvia, a Council of Europe Monitoring Committee noted that the protests “have little to do with a civil society or grassroots movements as understood in the western world,” but were instead led by radical forces said to receive moral and material support from Russia. The Council strongly advised Russia to cease its counter-productive interference in Latvia’s internal affairs.

The protests are indeed counter-productive. Pupils who refuse to learn Latvian and are boycotting classes are impeding their own education, limiting their employment opportunities and alienating themselves from society at large.

International organisations that have followed this issue in Latvia have agreed that the social integration of former Soviets must be accelerated and that naturalisation rates needs to be increased. This can only happen if the permanent residents of Latvia can speak and understand the Latvian language.

The Soviet legacy of forced Russification, ethnic segregation and repression during 50 years of occupation has done irreparable damage to entire generations of Latvians and Russians in Latvia. For some, the damage can never be undone. The Latvian educational reform program is designed to help the next generations prepare for a better life. One of equal opportunity, civic engagement and prosperity in a democratic Latvia and a united Europe.

Each year, since 1998, veterans of the World War II Latvian Legion and their family members, have gone to memorial services in churches and cemeteries in Latvia on March 16 to remember fellow soldiers that died in the war. During the German occupation of Latvia (1941-1944) over 100,000 Latvians were conscripted into combat units that fought against the Stalin’s Red Army on the Eastern Front.

This annual remembrance of Latvians who wore German uniforms to fight against the  Soviet Union has generated political controversy, some minor protests and modest international media attention, largely because of misunderstandings about the historical role of the Latvian Legion during World War II. In some cases, the misunderstandings arise from a simple unfamiliarity with the facts. In others, there is a calculated attempt to misrepresent the role of Legion veterans, both today, and during World War II.

Part of the problem comes from the intentionally misleading German designation of the Latvian Legion as ‘the Latvian Voluntary SS Legion’ which was formed under the German Waffen SS.  The 15^th and 19^th Latvian Legion divisions created in 1943 were neither voluntary, nor were they associated in any way with the notorious Nazi SS organization that was responsible for the Holocaust.

Most of the estimated 100,000 young Latvian men that made up the Latvian Legion were forcibly mobilized to fight on Germany’s collapsing Eastern Front. Draft evasion was punishable by death. The Soviets were advancing, the Germans were retreating and the Latvians were called up to fill the gap. While Hitler’s racist policies had forbidden the use non-German combatants in the early stages of the war, by 1943, desperation overruled discrimination. Similar non-German Waffen SS combat units were established in France, Italy, Hungary, Ukraine, Estonia and Belarus, all in a last ditch German effort to prevent defeat.

Hitler’s mass extermination of Jews in Latvia had already ended in 1943, long before the Latvian Legion combat units were formed. This was recognized by the International War Crimes Tribunal in Nuremberg, when the Latvian Legion and other conscripted non-German Waffen SS units were exempted from criminal charges associated with the Nazi Holocaust.

The Latvians that were drafted into the Latvian Legion were neither Nazis nor fascists, nor did they wish to see a Nazi German victory in the war. They were young men, who had just seen their loved ones and friends executed and deported by the thousands by the departing Soviet regime. Stalin’s brutal Russification of Latvia had been cut short by the German invasion in 1941, and there was every indication it would be resumed once the Soviet army pushed the Germans out and re-occupied Latvia.

Although forcibly mobilized, once armed and in uniform, many in the Legion believed this was their only chance to prevent a second Soviet takeover. As during World War I, when Latvian freedom fighters battled both Bolsheviks and Germans to win Latvia’s independence, the soldiers of the Legion hoped that history could repeat itself. They would defeat the Soviets and then turn their guns on the Nazis. But the Soviet force was overwhelming and Latvia was occupied once more. That second occupation ended in 1991 with the collapse of the USSR.

Not many surviving members of the Latvian Legion are left today in Latvia. But each year the veterans, former soldiers caught in a vice between two totalitarian powers, meet to remember their suffering and sacrifices. They see themselves as Latvian patriots who believed, however erroneously, that they were fighting for the restoration of a free Latvia. For this reason, March 16^th, the anniversary of a major Latvian Legion battle in Russia, was chosen by them as a day of solemn remembrance.

Moscow has always viewed the Legion veterans as enemies of the Soviet state and sent them to Soviet labour camps after the war. When the USSR collapsed, the Russian government officially preserved this hostility and has routinely condemned the remembrance of the Legion veterans on March 16^th in Latvia. This criticism, however, has often gone beyond the historical facts and wrongly accused the Latvian Legion of war crimes, fascism and complicity in the Holocaust.

Confusion over the Waffen SS designation has also contributed to a misrepresentation of the Legion veterans in the mass media.  Solemn flower-laying ceremonies at monuments and cemeteries, attended by aged veterans and their families have been wrongly described in the media as ‘marches’. Nothing could be further from the truth. They march nowhere, carry no banners, shout no slogans and have no political agenda. They simply wish to honour their fallen friends and comrades.

History is always a subject of interpretation, and three brutal military occupations in a 5-year period during World War II, have made Latvia’s history especially difficult for non-historians to understand. For Latvia, this was an especially tragic period when most who were caught between two invading armies became victims of forces far beyond their control.

In recent years, some radical political groups have tried to disrupt the quiet March 16^th events to call attention to themselves and their political causes. They have been condemned by Latvian authorities as well as the former Legion soldiers. But most who go to church or cemeteries on that day have no political agenda whatsoever. They are simply paying their respects to 100,000 fathers, sons and friends who became tragic victims of a very costly and complicated war.

March 12, 2006

Written for the July 2002 NATO Candidate’s Summit in Riga.

Since restoring independence in 1991 Latvia has had three parliamentary elections and nine governments, all of whom have pursued the same foreign policy objectives. Two of these objectives, membership in NATO and the EU, were logical steps in Latvia’s goal of re-integration into Europe. The third, establishing normal relations with Russia, appeared  more elusive, especially in light of Moscow’s long-standing objection to NATO enlargement.

As the November 2002 NATO Summit in Prague approaches, however, indications are that Latvia may at last be able to reconcile the heretofore conflicting elements in its foreign policy priorities. The prospects of getting an invitation to the join the Transatlantic Alliance have never been better, and Russia’s objections, while still formally in place, have receded against the backdrop of a growing co-operation between an expanding NATO and a pragmatic Russia. Informed diplomats are saying that Moscow has all but conceded that the Baltic countries of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia will become NATO members.

While at first glance, Latvia’s membership in NATO may appear to be a foreign policy defeat for Russia, it could in fact turn into a political and economic advantage. Latvia’s bustling ports and growing international trade and financial centre in Riga have always attracted Russian businessmen seeking broader contacts with the West. Peter the Great absorbed Latvia’s strategic coastal territory on the Baltic Sea in the 18^th century in order to provide the Russian empire with a ‘Window to the West’. Under Soviet rule, Latvia was one of the most Western oriented Soviet-ruled republics and a major outlet for Soviet exports to the West. The strategic Latvian port of Ventspils, now the busiest in the Baltic Sea, was developed by Moscow to serve as the end point of Russia’s northern oil pipeline, and still delivers up to 11% of Russia’s oil exports to the West.

Many believe that  Russia’s strained political relations with Latvia since 1991 were in part the result of a policy designed to keep Latvia out of NATO and within the Russian sphere of political and economic influence. Latvia’s steady move toward EU membership, close ties with the United States and vigorous campaign to join NATO may force Moscow to finally adjust its policy from confrontation to co-operation. Ironically, Latvia’s membership in NATO and the EU may in fact improve Latvia’s relationship with Russia and allow it to finally achieve all three of its foreign policy goals.

Russia has always been concerned with its security, especially along its eastern border with China and southern borders with predominantly Islamic states. As Russia develops a partnership with NATO, NATO countries become Russia’s friendliest and most predictable neighbours. With Latvia and Estonia joining Norway as Russia’s NATO border countries to the West, Russia’s ‘Window to the West’(including neutral Finland) becomes a reliable region of  political stability, economic prosperity and cross-border co-operation.

Preparation for NATO membership has benefited Latvia in ways that reach beyond military factors. Implementing NATO standardisation and interoperability requirements, as well as learning a common language, procedures and tactics, has enabled Latvia to actively participate in multinational exercises, peacekeeping and Partnership for Peace programs. Latvian forces have participated in peacekeeping operations in Bosnia and Kosovo, and are developing specialised forces that are tailored for NATO’s activities in regional conflict resolution and anti-terrorism.

As Latvia’s economy grows and trade relations expand with Europe and Russia, Latvia’s role as the ‘Baltic middleman’ between East and West gives NATO membership a new meaning. Latvia’s active part in an integrated campaign against international terrorism becomes essential since Riga’s growing international profile means Latvia shares risks as well a opportunities with other EU members. Within NATO, Latvia will be better positioned to share intelligence, exchange information and participate in co-ordinated security enhancing programs.

Latvia’s commitment to defence and security has grown with its economy. The costings of Latvia’s Force Structure are resource based and the Latvian Government has raised defence spending by over 60%, to 1.75% of the GDP in 2002. This figure will reach 2% in 2003. Military interoperability with the Alliance has been the main priority – in particular, the Baltic Air Surveillance System (BALTNET), which places Latvia at the centre of NATO air surveillance systems in the Baltic Sea region.

Latvia’s new position atop the list of candidate states makes it an ideal setting for the last NATO candidates’ summit scheduled for this July 5 and 6 in Riga. Nine prime ministers and three presidents will participate in the ‘Riga 2002’ Summit, aptly named, ‘The Bridge to Prague.’