It’s time to rename Artifical Intelligence

Although AI is now a common part of our high tech lexicon, I have a problem with its semantical origins. As the European Union and national governments undertake complex debates about the legal, political, and ethical status of things containing AI, I think the source of this acronym – Artificial Intelligence – is fundamentally misleading.

First, here are the common definitions of these two words:

Intelligence = “the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills”
Artificial = “made or produced by human beings, rather than occurring naturally.”

According to these definitions, if intelligence is produced by human beings, it must be artificial. Thus, distinguishing between Human Intelligence and Artificial Intelligence is misleading. Both are a product of the human mind.

Perhaps the problem lies with the above definition of artificial. It separates human beings from the natural world, i.e. if something is made by humans it doesn’t occur naturally. But humans are a part of the natural world. We are flesh and blood animals, subject to all the same laws of nature that apply to lions, bees, and trees.

On a practical, purely functional level, ‘artificial’ is easy to understand. We all know the difference between a real hand and an artificial hand, real sugar and artificial sugar, real flowers and artificial flowers, etc. These are all physical objects that can be seen and touched and tasted. Common sense tells us the difference between real and artificial. But intelligence is an abstract concept.

Juval Noah Harari says that man is distinguished from other animals because we make up words for things that don’t exist in nature. These are abstract concepts. We have no trouble agreeing on the meaning of words that refer to palpable physical objects: a tree, a rock, a lion, a bird. But we also have words that apply to things you cannot see, touch, smell, or hear: justice, freedom, empathy, and yes, intelligence.

Language is only necessary between two or more people. An isolated, solipsistic hermit doesn’t need words to deal with his physical environment. However, when two or more people choose to live, work, hunt, and survive together, they need words to communicate. Words for physical objects are easy to agree on. But when it comes to abstract concepts, like justice or love, each person develops an image and meaning in their own head and tries to match it with what another person understands by those words. But we cannot get into another person’s head. We assume we share an understanding and maybe come close, but we never know for sure. The concept of love in one person’s head can be very different from that in another’s.

Over time we have developed an elaborate and complex system for defining words, based on common usage, accepted definitions, and socially agreed upon standards. But none of these are absolute. None of it exists outside the individual human mind, or the collective human mind we call society. Abstract entities like love, justice, freedom, and beauty don’t exist in the natural world. Other animals can’t see them. They exist only in the minds of humans. And because we each understand these abstractions differently, we debate their meanings. We have even gone to war over differences in our definitions of these concepts. (Religious schisms, which have led to the slaughter of heretics on both sides, often arise over the definition of one word.)

Intelligence too is an abstract concept. We can argue endlessly about what it means and how we recognize and define it. But it’s all in our heads. It’s human-made. And according to the above definition, anything that is human-made, and doesn’t occur in the ‘natural’ world is artificial.

Something is wrong here. I think it’s the definition of ‘artificial’. Everything, including humans and what they produce, are a part of the natural world. It can’t be otherwise. (Unless, of course, you want to bring in the supernatural, but that’s another topic.) But if you discard the word artificial and narrow it down to “made by humans”, you still have a problem. What we think of as intelligence – the aquisition and application of knowledge – is a human activity. It’s a human product. And it remains a human product whether you store it in your flesh and blood brain, or program it into an algorithim trapped in a silicon chip.

Either all intelligence is artificial, or none of it is. It’s time to put our minds to rethinking how we describe what we know.

Since AI has become a part of our accepted lexicon, perhaps we can resolve this problem by retaining the familiar acronym, but changing what it refers to. Two possibilities come to mind. Augmented Intelligence, or Autonomous Intelligence.

“Augmented” refers to something that has been made greater in value or size. A computer, silicon chip, or algorithm that can access, retain, and process more data than the average human mind could be called augmented. It knows and works with more.

“Autonomous” is sometimes defined as “having the freedom to act independently.” An algorithm built into a program is designed to perform its functions independently. You create it, kick start it, and it goes off on its own. One can argue that it isn’t totally independent because it is constrained by the program that created it. Nevertheless, once it begins to function, it does so independent of the humans who created it.

Perhaps there are other terms that can be used. I’m sure many will think of them. They may be better or more precise than my suggestions. But I offer them as a starting point for a discussion which I think will be necessary if we hope to get a handle on the legal, practical, or ethical implications and applications of AI.

One of the ironies of globalization (the natural phenomenon, not the ideology) is that many who seemingly oppose it are themselves inadvertently furthering it.

Since the advent of the Westphalian nation state it has been a mantra of traditional statesmanship that “we don‘t comment on or interfere in another country‘s internal affairs.” Interference, of course happens anyway, but until recently those in power reserved this for clandestine activities while publicly pronouncing their respect for the sacred sovereignty and territorial integrity of their global neighbors. We all wink and look the other way.

Not anymore. Since 2016 some of the most outspoken economic nationalists, anti-federalists, and anti-globalists have openly, actively, and brazenly interjected themselves into the politics of other countries. Thanks to Steve Bannon, a US President has proudly proclaimed his support for the Brexiteers in the UK‘s great domestic debate and had no qualms about identifying his favorite politicians in Britain‘s and Israel‘s recent selection of prime ministers. To return the favor, British politicians like Nigel Farage have joyfully expressed their preferences in a US presidential election. 

It comes as no surprise that former, still unreformed imperialist states like Russia actively pursue strategies to influence elections in other countries, especially real (but fragile) democracies. It‘s no secret that Russian money has funded Euro-sceptic political parties across Europe, influencing domestic elections as well as that of the European Parliament.   

But it‘s not just Russia. Many other sovereign states had a stake in the outcome of the recent US elections, be it to protect energy interests, further foreign policy priorities or spread ideological preferences. The extent to which they may have directly funded and supported individual US politicians is not yet fully known, but the evidence is growing. For example, according to a recent US House Oversight Committee finding, the United Arab Emirates helped write an ‘America First’ energy policy campaign speech for presidential candidate Donald Trump. 

When Robert Mueller was asked by a US Congressman if the exchange of information between Russian oligarchs and US election strategists was becoming typical for political campaigns, Mueller bluntly answered “I hope this is not the new normal, but I fear it is.”

What exactly is The New Normal? It‘s not totally clear yet, but the outlines are coming into view. Unilateralism is merging with multilateralism and vice versa.

On the one hand, anti-globalists disdain organizations like the UN and EU because they inhibit national sovereignty. Yet the same anti-interference advocates have no qualms about openly engaging in the policies and election campaigns of other countries. Your country is not only your business, it‘s our business too. 

Traditional statesmen of the old school continue to insist that Brexit is a decision for the British people to decide. But Phil Bryant, the Republican Governer of Mississippi recently spoke at a fundraiser for a new US-based organization called “World4Brexit”. Peggy Grande, Chair of W4B proudly stated, “We are here to support the democratic vote of the British people – they voted to leave the European Union and we want to make this happen.”

Unlike those Americans who welcome the breakup of the European Union as such, many potential ‘leavers’ within EU countries have backed away from their own Brexits and focused their guns on the creeping federalization of the EU. Here, the campaign to ‘Euro-globalize’ EU elections in 28 member states has already begun.

For example, Europeans have established many pan-European parties, some of which already function as European Parliament party groups in Brussels. Organizations like Volt want to go even further in the European Parliament elections and replace national party lists with pan-European candidate lists. Instead of voting for local parties and candidates from their own country, every European citizen would be choosing candidates from across the continent in all 28 countries. 

So far, these attempts at denationalizing the EU parliamentary elections have been rejected. But the longterm goal is clear: allow politicians, parties, and political strategists from one country to directly engage in the national elections of another. Achieve that at the European Parliament level and the slippery slope to ‘multi-national’ national elections gets liberally lubricated.

Some fear that globalization will concentrate power in capitals like Brussels, Beijing, or Washington, D.C. But when the leaders of one country pick favorites for leading other countries, they are globalizing world politics in a different way.

Attempts to influence the politics of other countries are not just the work of spycraft. It‘s a lucrative – and legal – business. Professional consultants, many from the US, are already collecting big fees for advising politicians in other countries. (In my country of Latvia, a former Republican campaign strategist openly advised a local Moscow-friendly party during the last parliamentary election.) But when those advisors become elected officials, take over governments, and continue to push their favorites as their official administration policy, the old concept of non-interference loses its meaning.

If this trend continues, multinational business interests, stateless oligarchs, and other national election ‘influencers’ will be supplemented by governments that openly support, finance, and endorse local parties in elections around the world.

In this dystopian future, the voters of France will be choosing among parties openly sponsored and represented by the governments of China, the US, Saudi Arabia, Russia, and Germany.  The parliament of Italy will consist of MP‘s representing parties called “The US Knows Best”, “Deutschland Uber Alles”, and “Russia Today and Tomorrow”. Imagine CNN hosting a future US Presidential Primary debate in Omaha between the Presidents of Turkey, Russia, and Hungary on a dias with the Prime Ministers of the UK, India, and Brazil. Each will argue why their interests best serve American interests. Each will have a favorite US party and a direct stake in the outcome of every election, be it local or national.

In a sense, the anti-globalists who feared that the UN would emerge as a world government will have achieved their goal. Power will not be centralized in a single global capital run by One World Politicians and an army of transnational bureaucrats. Power will be distributed around the world. But it will be wielded by everyone, everywhere and anywhere on the planet. And it will be controlled by those who have the money, know how, and resources to nimbly work The New Normal. 

In that case, the ultra-nationalists who disdain the cooperation that is encouraged by multinational bodies like the UN, IMF, World Bank, and EU will pursue it through through their own political party-based ideological transnationalism. One hand not only helps the other, it also votes for it. 

In a way, that‘s not so different from The Old Normal we have come to know and loathe. It‘ll just be more openly global than ever before.

(Contemplations on content and context)

Kindle and Spotify are my best friends. They are my favorite digital apps because they bring me two of my favorite things in life: words and music. I have turned to literature and music all my life for inspiration, comfort, edification, and pleasure. I loved books and records, not as physical things but because of what they conveyed. As techies are wont to say these days, they are wonderful “data carriers”, but it’s the cargo they deliver that really interests me.

Of course, as you savor a pleasure, you tend to become fond of the objects that bring it. I liked the feel of a book in my hand, and never turned up page corners or folded paperbacks in half because I didn’t want to sully their structural integrity. I liked them crisp, clean, and intact. I did sometimes write notes in the margins, albeit reluctantly because I disliked disrupting the purity of the page and its orderly rows of dutifully aligned words and sentences.

I also treated LP’s with tender care, if only to prevent scratches that would destroy their sound. The black shiny discs did have a groovy coolness about them that required a respectful handling by the edges, and the ritual of sensually slipping them in and out of album sleeves just added an elegant importance to the music it contained.

I especially enjoyed studying album cover art and their liner notes. They were objects of affection because they housed and conveyed such delightful sounds, and offered a visual dimension to the artistic message inherent in the music. Especially when some musicians like Frank Zappa took an active role in designing the visual packaging that housed his musical offerings. It was more than just music, it was a multimedia artistic statement.

But in both cases, the real object of my pleasure was not the packaging that delivered it, but the pure content. I read to understand and enjoy the ideas that are conveyed by the manner in which writers use words to form sentences and then assemble them into paragraphs and pages. For me, reading is a twofold pleasure: the artistry of the language and the depth of the ideas that are conveyed. It’s the same with music. Imaginative album design may enhance and expand the message in the music, but it’s the pure music, best enjoyed with eyes closed, that reaches deep inside me and stirs thoughts and emotions that few other stimuli can produce.

When I first discovered e-books I too was sceptical. But when I received a Kindle as a Christmas gift, I was forced to give it a try. It didn’t take long to embrace this new way of receiving those sacred words, sentences, and ideas. I had already been introduced to the concept of words on a screen thanks to computers and the Internet. As I soon learned, my Kindle did it all so much better.

Acquiring information through words is a professional necessity for me. My first exposure to digitalized newspapers quickly proved to be a much more efficient way to acquire large batches of information quickly. Reading the news on a TV-like screen of an IBM monitor didn’t have the physical embrace of holding a hefty newspaper in my hand but it sure did give me a lot more information in a substantially shorter period of time. The laptop brought the experience even closer, and the hand-held tablet started to feel like what reading a book or newspaper used to feel like. And with each technological innovation, the ease and efficiency of fishing for, hauling in, and processing large batches of information from increasingly more distant corners of the world became exponentially better.

The Internet gave me magazines, newspapers, blogs, articles, essays, and countless other sources of words and their inherent ideas, but my Kindle gave me books. Thousands of books. A seemingly endless array of books. Not everything in the world, but more than I could ever dream of reading. It gave me any book I wanted in seconds. Entire books, from the prologue to the epilogue.

In the past, if I heard or read of a book that sounded interesting, it would take weeks or even months to search for it. It meant going to the library or the book store, unless I knew someone with a copy. In any case it took time. But the Kindle in my hand was a magic door into a enormous library that contained almost as many books as Borges famous infinite Library of Babel. And I could open any one of them, any time I wanted, and start reading. Not only could I take books out of the Kindle library, I could keep them for as long as I wanted.

I once used to collect books and stack them on endless shelves. Now I could keep them all in my jacket pocket. Pocket books indeed. All I had to do was take my Kindle, poke the right buttons, and my Personal Library opened up right before my eyes. Anything man had written, published, disseminated, and stored over the last few thousand years was there for my taking. I could dialogue with Socrates, will my power with Nietzsche or run the streets of Dublin with Roddy Doyle. All while waiting in line at the airport.

While I remember a lot of what I read, I forget a lot as well, and like to go back to refresh my memory or lift a clever quote. In the past, relocating a passage I liked required two searches: first, I had to rembember where in the blazes I had stuck the book. My shelves were somewhat organized, but not greatly so. Second, once I had the book, I had to plunder thru the pages in search of the quote, not sure whether I had underlined it or not. Often enough, either task became too formidable and I gave up.

My Kindle cured all that. It takes a second to open my Kindle, another to open any book, and only a few seconds more to find anything I had highlighted, underlined or otherwise noted. It was all there. In Kindle, anything you highlight in a book gets compiled in a handy file that keeps each quote in sequence and can be instantly accessed with a tap. The file itself becomes my personal Cliff’s Notes summary of the author’s best and brightest observations. I can navigate any book at will, jump back to earlier passages, and re-read entire sections from different points of view.

I love words, collect as many as I can, and relish discovering the meanings of those I don’t understand. Kindle helps there as well. It’s a got a built-in library that delivers meanings at the touch of my finger. Another tap takes me to Google where I can expand my exploration with pictures, maps, and a near infinite web of pages that flood my curiosity with explanations and edifications. As a student I often passed over place names and other references, vowing to look them up later but I rarely did. I missed a lot.

Kindle gives me words and Spotify gives me music. A seemingly endless stream of music that pours down invisibly from the heavens in glorious torrents every minute of the day. Heraclitus be damned, this is one stream you can step into over and over and over again.

When radio was all there was, I was a captive audience of the ratings-driven marketing mavens who packaged everything they and their sponsors wanted me to hear. The airwaves were public but the sounds that traversed them were mercantilistically commercial. We had AM and FM and little transistor radios to catch the trickle-down tunes that were spoon-fed to us in between the ads. We grabbed whatever sounds came our way.

Of course, if I really liked something, and had the money, I would buy an album. Black vinyl had a brittle delicacy to it that enhanced the near ritualistic gesture of placing the disc on the roundtable and dropping the needle into a welcoming groove. But an LP was just a data carrier and what I was after was the music it conveyed. I wanted lots of it. Since albums cost money every impending purchase led to the same old dilemma: do I buy more of someone I like or explore new musical frontiers? The music that slowly filled my existential musical cocoon was wonderful but I knew that it was just a microcosm of all that was out there. The few sounds that I could get and store on vinyl, tape, cassette or CD were just the tip of the musical iceberg that was far out of my physical and financial reach.

Spotify broke the barriers of time, space, and meagre finances and put a world of music at my fingertips. Literally. Not only new music, but old music, odd music, familiar and obscure music. With a few taps I could access everything from classical to kinky. But the clever Swedes who created Spotify learned how to get into my head, figure out what I liked, and proceeded to give me even more of everything that tickled my musical fancy.

If I liked a particular genre, like blues rock, and listened to Walter Trout and Joe Bonamassa for a day, on the next day those clever cyberelves at Spotify would dish up a dozen other artists of the same ilk. “If you liked that, you might like this.” More often than not, I did. My music collection grew exponentially. It was all in my smart phone and that put it all directly into my head.

The old radio stations forced me to listen to prepackaged pop, while Spotify offered hundreds of genre-specific radio stations and playlists that far exceeded anything I could imagine. Spotify had mastered the mind-reading of which Gordon Lightfoot had so solemnly sung. They even read stuff that wasn’t in my mind but should be. I’m a big Steve Earle fan and find that I tend to like what he likes, but rarely had the opportunity to know what he listens to. On Spotify I can spend an evening sipping whiskey, sitting with Steve and digging the stuff that he digs. Invariably I have discovered dozens of new artists that have both inspired and emulated him.

Back in the previous century I used to make my own musical mixes on tape cassettes, which was time-consuming and filled endless boxes. Spotify streamlined all that. It lets me create playlists instantly, on the run, as I’m listening. And when I’m not assembling my own playlists, Spotify offers theirs, based on what they think I may like. Their insight is uncanny. One of my favorite Spotify-produced playlists is called ‘Swagger’, where I uncovered the feisty likes of Bones Owens, Barnes Courtney and Devon Gilfillian. Spotify wasn’t just a musical provider, it was a creative partner. We make and take beautiful music together.

While Spotify gives me a lot of new artists, it also allows me to rummage back into the past and discover old classics that I missed because in my youth when I was too broke to buy their albums for myself. These days I can explore the full repertoire of bands like Alice Cooper, Dream Theater, and Pentangle, while discovering heretofore unreleased releases by Bob Dylan, Alabama 3, and Jethro Tull.

Unlike a crystal ball, my smart phone can’t reveal the future. But it is a remarkable window into the past and is pretty nimble at keeping up with the present. I’m man of words and music, and my obsessively updating digital devices deliver them both. In spades. In seconds. In full color and stereo sound. At a moment’s notice, whenever and wherever I want

In his book ‘Sapiens, Yuval Noah Harari argues that the thing that makes our species so special is its uncanny ability to communicate. He writes, “We can connect a limited number of sounds and signs to produce an infinite number of sentences, each with a distinct meaning. We can thereby ingest, store and communicate a prodigious amount of information about the surrounding world.”

My Kindle and Spotify are nothing more than the latest technical iteration of that distinctly human penchant to communicate. Once we did it with smoke signals, tribal drums, and epic poetic recitals around the bonfire. Today those same words and sounds are suspended in the endless ether that envelopes us and we just have to reach out and pluck them. Doesn’t matter how it gets there, it all eventually goes to our heads.

Dylan needed a dump truck to unload his head. Kindle and Spotify keep filling mine up. A modern-day Dylan would simply call up an app that’ll clean out his cognitive cache. The times are still changing and so is the way we choose to harness them. But the song (and the thoughts) remain the same.

Ojars Eriks Kalnins

January 2019

Globalism vs Nationalism?

Not necessarily. We each define these terms as we see fit, but in my worldview they can be complimentary concepts rather than conflicting ones. I am a Latvian nationalist by conviction and profession but I see it in terms of protecting and preserving a culture, language, and traditions in the historical territory where it all came about. I live in a period of human history where the nation state is a still popular form of social organization among the 7 billion or so who share this planet, so taking pride in my nation’s small place on this earth tends to comes naturally.

But there are countless others on this planet who enjoy a different place, culture and perception of the world. We are many nations out there and all have an equal claim to pride of place. In my eyes, we are equal and different. That’s what makes life so interesting. Oddly enough I find myself appreciating my own nation more when I begin to appreciate the same – yet different – qualities in other countries. The more I travel, see, hear, and feel the diversity of human society, the more I enjoy my inherited bond and innate loyalty to my country. None of us are “better” than the others, but we are different and that’s a big plus. I may prefer one genre of music over others, but that doesn’t diminish the pleasure I get from the symphony of sounds the rest of the world has to offer.

So while I am a Latvian, I’m fascinated by what’s happening in the rest of the world. Each culture is unique and intriguing on its own, yet culture takes on a whole new dimension when these different cultures begin to interact, blend, and produce something totally new. Call it global culture. It’s a mixed mash of influences and inclinations that undergo spontaneous chemical reactions to create art and understanding of a very different nature. I see it as a bonus culture, one we can add to all the other national ones, including our own, for our mutual enjoyment. I may love single malts, but savor a masterful blend with equal intensity.

Like Aberlour and Chivas Regal, nationalism and globalism can coexist. I enjoy them both. As long as it’s a nationalism of pride and not superiority. And as long as that which is global doesn’t threaten or diminish that which we cherish as national.

Politically, national interests can be furthered by mastering the machinations of the cultural, technical, and social globalization happening all around us. It’s individual nations that make up the multinational organizations we participate in. It’s up to them to shape these organizations to serve their shared as well as national interests. Like joining any club, we try to further and enhance our individual interests by working together with others. Latvia has a much better chance of being Latvian by joining the European Union and working with Germans, Italians, Swedes, Dutch, and Luxembourgians who share our respect for national sovereignty, territorial integrity, and cultural identity. When countries that once fought each other start working together, they all have a much better chance of surviving and thriving. On their own, and together.

It all comes down to balance. Thanks to modern technology, the gravitational pull of globalization is inescapable. Even as we cling to our national identities, we are drawn to the currents, trends, and pressures of everything global. It affects our food, music, literature, film, sports, fashion and philosophy. Our daily national consciousness is endlessly invaded by international things. There’s no reason we can’t embrace both. My knowledge of English and French doesn’t diminish my fondness for Latvian. My enjoyment of lasagne, tacos, sushi, and kimchee detracts nothing from the rustic taste of Latvian rye bread.

I reject nationalism and globalism as ideologies. To me, they are natural phenomena that need to be understood and managed. They are not doctrines to be used as tools to further some particular set of values. But as long as values differ, and some are compelled to impose theirs on others, people will use whatever’s at hand to further their cause. Today, both nationalism and globalism are defined, exploited, and imposed in a wide variety of ways, and as always, for some it leads to conflict and contention. Sadly, when that happens, all sides lose.

We may want to fly, but gravity pulls us down. It’s pointless to curse it. Better that we learn how to use it to help us stand up, move about, and get to wherever we want to go. Eventually, while working with others, we can get off the ground much higher than we ever expected. Globalism, like gravity, is not a threat. It’s just a force we need to work with. Do it right and it can take us anywhere.

Ojars Eriks Kalnins

June 15, 2018

Why deviants of the world will never unite

Frank Zappa once said that the world cannot progress without deviation. That’s why deviants are so necessary.

One can quibble over the definition of “progress” but if you replace it with the word “change”, then Zappa’s judgement seems to ring universally true.

The world cannot change without deviation. Without deviation, to the right, to the left, up or down, everything stays as it is. It stagnates. It dies. Life is constant movement. Doing something. Anything. Just doing. The moment you stop doing you stop being. And every movement is a deviation from some previous position.

You can, of course, move straight ahead and will achieve something that could be perceived as progress. It may bring some change over time, but gradually. If it’s faster and more fundamental change that you seek, you must deviate from the norm. Leave the beaten path. Break out of the box. (Pick your metaphor.)

Global society must move to stay alive as well, which is why it has constantly changed over the last 30 thousand years. Some will say “progressed”, but that’s an argument that will persist until the proverbial cows come home. (Cows move too.)

Definitions of progress are based on designations of what is good and what is bad. Values. But even the endless arguments over values and the purpose of life (progress presumes a purpose) are another form of movement, action, and activity that keeps us alive and kicking. Disagreeing over progress always brings change in some form or another.

It applies to each of us individually and to society as a whole. We do because we must. What we do has no higher purpose than that which we ourselves give it. And it’s the clash of purposes that brings about change.

Looking over the 30 thousand year timeline of human existence it becomes evident that change in human existence comes about and is largely measured by human conflict. We mark our history by wars, revolutions, and other cataclysmic events. Yes, there are long periods of relative tranquility in between, but the major changes in society take place after conflict of some sort or another.

Deviations. The men who have moved society have been deviants. The movers and shakers. Those who shake things up and bring things down. They are active players who deviate from the norm and send society hurtling into a new direction. Whether what they do is good or bad depends on your point of view. But you can’t deny that they are doers and without them life would stagnate.

Stagnation was a fashionable word in the latter Soviet days but it’s been evident elsewhere whenever a society no longer accepts the status quo and seeks change. The United States I grew up in during the late 60’s was shaking off a period of stagnation and Frank Zappa was one of the many deviant factors that brought about major changes in society.

History shows that human societies have always sought change. Change for the better they hope, but change nevertheless, even if it goes bad.

Which it often does. Change arises from deviation and conflict, and in conflict there are winners and losers. Survival, one of the primal driving forces of life in all its forms, does indeed go to the fittest. While many humans have embraced the concept of equality as a desireable state in society, the very nature of life itself opposes that.

Granted, some life forms such as ants may appear to achieve and accept a state of equality in order to work for a common goal, but even that is impossible without a queen. And compared to all the other ants, equal as they may be, the queen is a deviant. She’s the driving force that keeps those ants moving and alive.

Changes that take place in the animal world are usually not viewed as progress, but simply evolution. A species gets “better” at its primary task – being alive – by evolving over time. Humans have a need to speed up the process.

That’s why we require deviants. We may love them or hate them, but without them nothing would change.

Which raises the question, is change a good thing, in and of itself? Why can’t we reach an acceptable state and keep it that way forever? That’s what Faust wanted, and it took Mephistopheles to remind him that nothing lasts forever. Constant change is the natural condition of life and if you hope to maximize your comfortzone while being alive, you best learn to accept and adapt to change.

And while the vast majority of people on this planet are struggling to accept and adapt to constant change in their lives, some, a select few, are trying to control it, guide it, and drive it. They are the deviants.

Probably the only thing deviants could ever unite on is their common desire to inaugurate change. And that’s good. Because if all the deviants of the world agreed on which way to go and why, they would cease to be deviants. And nothing would change.

August 30, 2017

Unlike the weather, everybody not only talks about war, but many actually do something about it. Some start them, others try to end them, and over the centuries mankind has devised all kinds of rules and regulations in a desperate attempt to control them.

I’ve been invited by the UK Parliament to participate in a Westminster conference debate in March over whether parliaments should have war powers and why. Since Latvia’s constitution gives all the power to the parliament (the voters elect us and we elect the government and president) the Brits have asked me to take the side of the “more power to the parliament” adherents. Someone else will take an opposing position, and the conference participants will take a vote. A very British ritual.

Which means that I have to take some time to study the history, legality, politics, and philosophy of declaring war. How has mankind done it for thousands of years, how has it changed, how is it now, and has anything in this whole warmongering process gotten any better? And what does ‘better’ mean when it comes to war?

One of the first things I learned was that Latvia has only declared war once in its 99-year history, and we “won” it. Back in 1919 the nascent Republic of Latvia formally declared war against Germany, and ended up on the right side of history when the Allies won and the Central Powers lost.

Oddly enough no wars have been “declared” since WWII, although it seems like there are wars of some kind or another going on all around us all the time on almost every continent. Nowadays we call them conflicts, military actions, joint operations, and armed aggression, but none of them have been declared as wars with the constitutional pomp and circumstance that once was common among nation-states.

Although no countries have declared war in over 70 years, every country with a constitution has a formal procedure for doing so. Just in case. Yet it’s difficult to imagine a case where a member of the UN could declare war since the UN Charter seems to forbid it. More or less. It allows for use of armed forces to defend one’s self, and the UN Security Council has authorized military force in places like Korea and Afghanistan, but these are not legally referred to as “wars”.

But most countries have a constitutional procedure for declaring war, and in most cases that declaration can only be made by a parliament. In Latvia, the President can only declare war if the Saeima has taken a decision to do so. The same applies to the use of armed forces in a conflict outside of Latvia. Only the 100 elected representatives of the voting public can decide to make or declare war.

The rational is simple. It’s the one versus many argument. Since war is undesirable, all efforts should be made to make it difficult. One leader – president, monarch, dictator – can do so on a personal whim. A group of elected officials is less likely to do so. Plus, the actual “wagers of war”, the soldiers, are members of society, and thus need to decide if they wish to fight. They also need the blessing of that society to fight. And if that society is united behind its parliamentary majority, there’s a better chance it will be united in conducting a successful war.

In addition, many constitutions assert that citizens have the responsibility and obligation to defend their country. If so, it seems logical that they would have the authority to decide when to defend and how, be it through a military action or formal declaration of war. Since the citizens elected the parliament to represent them, the parliament has the authority to decide – on behalf of the citizens – whether it is time to fight.

The bottom line? Nobody wants to go to war, and 21st century humankind has made all kinds of laws, regulations, and treaties to prevent war. But maybe, just maybe, if war seems necessary or inevitable, we humans make up rules to run it. We hedge our bets. We consider all possibilities. And even if we don’t want to do something, we figure out how to do it if we have to.

Americans will soon celebrate Thanksgivings Day, but for Latvians it comes today, November 18th, the 97th anniversary of the declaration of Latvia’s independence. Yes, 50 of those years were under foreign occupation, but the last 24 have given me and the people of Latvia a great deal to be thankful for.

Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs, but what country hasn’t? For a country of less than 2 million people, we have shown to ourselves (and the world) that our language, culture, and people are something to be proud of. It was worth fighting for after 1918, and worth bringing back to the world community in 1991.

And we are full of surprises. We surprised the music world when Marie N won Eurovision in 2002, and surprised the political world when we joined the EU and NATO two years later. Our song festivals are a world cultural phenomenon and our ice hockey teams have been among the world’s best.

Today Kristaps Porzingis is the talk of the NBA and is carrying the Big Apple on his 7’3″ shoulders, but he isn’t the first Latvian to become a NY favorite. Yelena Prokopcuka won the NY Marathon in 2005 and 2006, and Latvian opera stars Elina Garanca, Kristina Opolais, Maija Kovalevska, Aleksandrs Antonenko, and Egils Silins have all wowed The NY Met. According to Rolling Stone magazine, the New York Latvian Concert Choir’ s “Joy of Christmas” is one of the 25 best Christmas albums of all time.

We’ve also survived one of the worst economic crises in Europe, and yes, in terms of economic standard of living we remain one of the poorest countries in Europe. But when it comes to the inner power of our people, we are rich in achievement, pride, creativity, and the undying belief that our language, culture, and people have a unique place on this planet. And that place isn’t only a 64,000 square kilometre piece of land by the Baltic Sea.

Frank Sinatra once sang about NY, “If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.” For the last 97 years, Latvians have been proving that the world over. And that is something I am very thankful for. Happy birthday Latvia!

When I first visited Soviet-occupied Latvia in 1978 as a tourist, I was told it was best not to go near “The Monument.” There it was, this massive, imposing object with a soaring obelisk topped by bronze female figure, standing tall in the heart of Riga, and we tourists from America were told it would be best to pretend that it didn’t exist. It was smack dab in the middle of Riga’s busiest intersection, in a place where no one could ignore it. Every one of Riga’s 800,000 inhabitants who walked, trolleyed or rode by it every day had to acknowledge its presence, like it or not. It was inescapable.

But in the Riga that was ruled by the Soviet Union in 1978, it was a no man’s land. We were told that it was intensely monitored by KGB cameras in the surrounding buildings and KGB agents in the surrounding trees, and that any local who gave the monument more than a passing glance faced an obligatory visit from Soviet security officials. Some had even been arrested and sent to Siberia for looking too longingly at the monument. Someone once burned himself to death there. As foreign tourists, we were warned it was okay for us to take a few quick pictures, but any inappropriate amount of extra attention could cause us difficulties in the remaining days of our trip.

Even in 1978, it was clear that the monument by the Riga canal, built in 1935 to honor Latvia’s independence, was the focus of intense attention. And a repository of intense energy. The mere fact that the Soviet regime did as much as it did for 40 years to deny it, disguise it, ignore it and keep people away from it, attests to its remarkable power. But what puzzled me then, and still puzzles me now, is why they never tore it down.

The Latvian Freedom monument, as its name denotes, symbolizes Latvia’s independence. The Soviets had crushed that. Why then let it stand? I’m told that the Soviets feared a popular uprising in Latvia, but fear had never stopped Stalin before. In 1940 he arrested the government, annexed Latvia to the USSR and deported tens of thousands of its citizens to Siberia. In the late 40’s and early 50’s, Stalin had every repressive weapon he needed to suppress any uprisings in a decimated post-war Latvia. The monument could have been blown up and carted away in 24 hours, and any subsequent Latvian grief would have been vigorously brought under control by Soviet security forces.

What was it about this monument, this Milda (as the woman atop the pedestal is affectionately called by Latvians), that intimidated the Soviet authorities so? Was it her stern stare? As a symbol of Latvia’s independence, Milda was like a hypnotic Medusa to Soviet officials in the 60’s and 70’s. They couldn’t look her straight in the eye. They prowled around her base, surrounded her and enshrouded her, doing all they could to minimize her, but never looked directly at her, for fear they would turn to stone. The monument inscribed to Fatherland and Freedom symbolized everything that the Soviet regime had tried to erase in Latvia, but for some reason the monument itself – Milda always prevailed.

It was as if the monument was at its heart a powerful magnet of the Latvian soul. When it was built entirely through private donations in the 1930’s, its creation and presence drew energy from throughout Latvia. Rather than tear it down, the Soviets tried to reverse its magnetic polarities and drive people away.

But as Soviet power withered in Moscow, the negative forces that had shackled the monument grew weaker. On June 14, 1987 they broke altogether, when two young Latvians named Rolands Silaraups and Eva Biteniece, led a silent column of people to the base of the monument for a forbidden flower laying ceremony. The KGB watched, and did nothing as the first unauthorized demonstration at the monument in 40 years unfolded before them. On that day, Rolands, Eva and the several thousand that had the courage to join them, liberated the monument from 4 decades imprisonment. The Soviet spell had been broken. The negative energy had been replaced by positive energy, and the magnetic monument again began to draw people toward it again, more powerfully than the KGB could pull them away.

The Soviets had always feared the monument as a symbol of Latvian independence. But by allowing it to remain standing as the only surviving symbol of Baltic independence (comparable monuments in occupied Estonia and Lithuania had long been destroyed by Soviet authorities), it became a broader symbol. And on June 14, 1987 it became broader still. The Latvians who gathered at the foot of the monument that day were openly asking for independence. In doing so, as they laid their flowers, they marked both a birth and a death: the rebirth of the Republic of Latvia, and the end of the Soviet Union. Both were to happen just 4 years later, following a series of events and developments that, symbolically at least, began on this day at the foot of Latvia’s Milda.

Two months later on August 23 (the anniversary of the Hitler-Stalin Pact that subjugated the Baltic countries) an even bigger demonstration was held at the monument, while similar rallies were now taking place in Estonia and Lithuania as well. By 1989 Popular Fronts were leading the charge for independence in all three Baltic countries and public rallies, demonstrations and manifestations became commonplace in many locations. On August 23, 1989 when one million Balts linked hands from Tallinn to Vilnius, the masses that gathered at the Freedom Monument in Riga marked the spiritual center of this 400 kilometer human chain.

By the time Latvia restored its independence in 1991, rallies at the monument had become the norm. All trolley and bus traffic around its base was rerouted to prevent
further deterioration of its foundation. By 1994 the newly released magnetic power of the monument reached all the way across the Atlantic Ocean and brought a new guest to its steps. On July 6, at the spot where dissidents had been arrested in 1978, and Rolands and Ieva placed their bouquets in 1987, the President of the United States, William Jefferson Clinton and his wife Hillary, paid their respects as well. He was the first US President to ever do so. Milda looked down confidently as if she always knew it would happen.

Milda has looked down on President Karlis Ulmanis and an independent Latvia in the 1930’s, on Soviet and Nazi tanks in the 1940’s, on Soviet dreariness through the cold war and impassioned national rallies in the 1980’s. During the last ten years of independence Milda has attracted thousands of tourists, hundreds of official guests, countless ceremonies and endless photographers. When young Latvian hockey fans exploded from Old Riga’s bars to celebrate victory in the world championships in St. Petersburgh in 2000, they instinctively descended upon Milda and surrounded her with song. Official or otherwise, she still knows how to attract crowds.

The three gold stars held aloft in Milda’s outstretched hands symbolize the three historic regions of the Latvia nation and state. During the dark and dreary cold war years of occupation and Sovietization, it seemed as if she were holding them high above the fray, away from danger, as if to protect them from what was happening below. An artist’s poster in the late 1980’s depicted her just that way, sinking in water over her head, only her hands still visible, holding the stars above the flood.

Today the tanks are gone, the waters have receded, and the square below her is filled with endless well-wishers covering her base with a sea of flowers. Her surfaces have been cleaned and polished in a just completed major renovation, financed, once again, with private donations. The stars have received a shiny new coat of gold, and her arms, it seems, stretch a little bit higher, a little bit prouder. As if to better show the rest of world that her mission has been accomplished. The Latvia she symbolized and protected for 65 years, is still with us. And so is Milda.

July 26, 2001 Riga, Latvia

A few years back when nation branding expert Simon Anholt was interviewing civic leaders in Latvia he began each conversation with a simple question, “What is Latvia for?”

Anholt usually poses this question to help governments get their priorities straight before committing themselves to a nation branding strategy. What politicians invariably discover is that the pursuit of economic growth, tourism, and investment (the usual reasons nations seek a brand) is much easier if it is built on a solid set of clearly stated values. Ones they actually believe in.

A recently proposed text for a preamble to Latvia’s 91-year old constitution does exactly that. It tries to explain what Latvia is for, why it was created, and why it matters so much to the Latvian people.

Most constitutions tell us how someone plans to run a country, but they don’t always explain why. Many, like ours, were written right after a war and the number one priority was to get things running again. To the founding fathers, Latvia’s ‘reasons for being’ were self evident enough not to require a lengthy explanation. They figured someone else could do that in more stable times.

It appears that the required stability has arrived because a lot of people in Latvia from all walks of life are starting to actively debate the whys and wherefores of putting a preamble in front of our longstanding constitution.

The point of a preamble is to explain what you are for, and this one does it.

It states that Latvia is for many things, but most of all, it says that Latvia was created to allow the Latvian people to live in their native land, where they can fully embrace their language, culture, history and traditions.

While keeping Latvia as Latvian as it can be, the preamble also guarantees the same rights for everyone else, regardless of ethnicity, race or creed. It encourages a civic society and proposes three guiding principles of nationhood: democracy, justice and social responsibility. For all.

There are plants and animals that thrive best in a particular valley, along a particular river, in a locally distinctive climate, nourished by the food and water that exists only there. The same goes for human beings who have developed rich and varied cultures through this living interaction between man and nature. If we truly value this planet for its diversity, these cultures and their unique habitats should be preserved, nourished and encouraged. While Latvians can grow anywhere, they do it best in Latvia. The preamble encourages others to do so as well.

By tradition, a preamble should offer the legal and historical grounds upon which a state is based, and in Latvia’s case, that all began in 1918, was threatened by a half century of occupation, and was won back once again when full independence was restored in 1991. Legal experts call it continuity, but to the rest of us it simply means we are willingly accepting a legacy left to us by our grandfathers.

Once the legal precedents are established, the preamble presents the primary responsibilities of the Latvian state. In this case, they are: To promote the spiritual, social, cultural and material welfare of all who live here. To provide them with order and justice in a secure environment. To protect the land we love and all the things that grow, live and thrive on it.

It also adds one relatively new responsibility that may or may not be a sign of the times: it recommends that we pursue our economic interests in a ‘humane way’. After the global economic crash, many long for a kinder, gentler capitalism.

In forming a state, a society can agree on certain red lines that can’t be crossed without compromising the very reason the state was created. The preamble lists those as independence, territorial integrity, the sovereignty of the people, and Latvian as the only state language. In the minds of the authors of this text, these are Latvia’s untouchables. If the will of the people ends up approving this preamble, it places upon them a solemn responsibility to preserve and protect these principles.

But civic responsibility doesn’t end there. We are urged to take care of ourselves, our loved ones and our fellow neighbours for the good of society as a whole. We are asked to leave this state and land in good condition for the next generations. And we are reminded that both traditional and Christian values have shaped the historical Latvian identity.

Thus, in addition to the guiding principles of the state, the preamble also spells out the basic social values of the people who choose to live here. They include a respect for freedom, decency, honesty and solidarity, as well as the family unit.

But Latvia is not an island floating in the vastness of space, so the preamble also expresses some internationally state-like thoughts about its place in the global community. It stresses Latvia’s active contribution to the humane, sustainable, democratic, and responsible development of Europe and the world. Here we announce our desire to be good global neighbours.

The first draft of the preamble has been made public and as expected, a vigorous and lively debate has ensued. Some question why we need one, some wonder whether we’ve said enough. Everyone will have a say and the process could take a long time before we all agree on the words and the way they reach final approval, either by parliamentary vote or referendum, or both.

It does answer Simon Anholt’s existential question, and someone even saw it as a pre-birthday present for Latvia’s 100 anniversary in 2018. Of all the commentaries I have read, my favourite is a woman who took to Twitter to share a revelation after reading the preamble over and over again. Her observation was aptly poetic. She saw it as a love letter to Latvia. I’m all for that.

October 30, 2013

A cursory look at Latvia’s National Development Plan 2014-2020 would suggest that foreign policy seems to play a very small role in Latvia’s future. The Foreign Ministry is solely responsible for only one section and that primarily deals with strengthening Latvia’s political and economic interests abroad.

However, each ministry is assigned a “Territory of Responsibility.” Here the Foreign Ministry takes on enormous importance, because its sphere of operation is designated as “The Whole World”.

Clearly, Latvia’s foreign service cannot embrace the entire world, so it is natural to divide that world into regions of priority. For the purposes of the Latvian Parliament’s annual Foreign Policy Debates, I’ve chosen to isolate those priorities by segmenting Latvia’s foreign policy world into concentric circles of interest. I have identified six such circles.

The first and closest circle includes our immediate neighbours: Lithuania, Estonia, Belarus and Russia. While relations with all these countries are important economically, they are much more complex and diverse politically. They will remains a top priority in 2013.

The second circle is slightly larger, and includes the Baltic Sea region and the Nordic countries. Here we continue to develop good ties in such multi-lateral formats as NB8, the Nordic-Baltic Council and the Council of Baltic Sea States. This year Latvia hosts the Baltic Development Forum and in 2015 during our Presidency of the European Union, we plan to organize a special forum on the EU’s Baltic Sea Strategy.

But in 2013 most of our attention will be focused on the third circle, where I have placed the European Union and NATO. Both organizations expand our areas of direct foreign engagement, although at the moment the greatest challenges lie in the EU itself, and our place in it.

This third circle also reveals the geographic direction of our interest in the fourth circle: the EU’s Eastern Partnership. Cooperating with and supporting such eastern neighbours as Georgia, Ukraine, and Moldova has always been a priority for Latvia. Direct person-to-person ties in these countries dating back to pre-independence periods has enabled Latvia to make robust use of Cooperative Development programs, which need to be expanded. Latvia also plans to host an Eastern Partnership Summit during our EU Presidency in 2015.

History, economic interests, and Latvia’s foreign policy priorities also determine the geographic direction of our sphere of interest in the next, fifth circle: Central Asia and Afghanistan. Latvia’s embassies in Uzbekistan and Kazahkstan have been extremely successful as contact embassies for NATO, and have developed a special expertise and respect in the entire region. This needs to be expanded.

Latvia’s role in the NATO ISAF mission in Afghanistan has produced a unique opportunity for long-term economic development as well. Working together with the US, Russia, NATO and regional countries, Latvia plays a key role in the Northern Distribution Network – the transport corridor for shipping NATO ISAF supplies from Latvia to Afghanistan. This has enormous future potential, for the moment that this network becomes a commercial transhipment corridor and connects to the planned New Silk Road, the door will open for Latvia’s road to the sixth and last circle, the Far East.

If until now such countries as China, Japan, Korea and India didn’t seem within reach of Latvia’s foreign policy grasp, then today they are very palpable. China and Japan have very active embassies in Riga and soon will be joined by South Korea. These countries are part of one of the most dynamic and rapidly growing regions in the world, and are looking with growing interest at Latvia’s strategic location in Northern Europe. The time has come to focus much more attention to this region, and determine how economic and political developments there can be aligned with Latvia’s long-term national interests. While some commentators have made much of the United States’ ‘pivot’ to Asia, it’s only natural that Europe does the same. Thanks to Latvia’s eastward tangent through the six circles of foreign engagement, this once distant region of the world is the logical next step in the long-term expansion of our international diplomacy.

Last year, the Latvian Foreign Ministry took a bold (and necessary) step in providing the framework for Latvia’s ‘pivot to the Far East’. It established an ‘External economic policy coordinating council’, which brings together the Foreign, Economic, Transportation and Agricultural ministries, as well as other state institutions. This institutional model of cooperation is ideally suited to review and analyse just how Latvia’s economic interests, geostrategic location and existing logistical and transportation links to the east can be further developed to promote our national interests. Suddenly, the Far East no longer seems so far.

Latvia cannot embrace the world, but thinking strategically about our potential long-term interests in specific geographic directions and regions, Latvia’s foreign policy can play an essential role in promoting our national interests. We are moving in the right direction. But we must move faster, further and with a greater understanding of Latvia’s unique place in a globalized world.

(Adapted from a speech given during the Latvian parliament’s foreign policy debates on January 24, 2013.)

You probably don’t have a ‘policy’ toward foreigners. Most people don’t. We just deal with ‘em as we meet them.

If you live in a city like London or New York it feels like everyone is a foreigner. Them or us in an ethnic sense doesn’t mean much in a melting pot; we all become strangers in the big stew. If you have a policy of any kind, it’s toward people as such, regardless of their passports. You just want to know whether they are good or bad.

But if you are a country, or represent one, a foreign policy has always been a necessity. We live in a world of nearly 200 countries, and regardless of which one you happen to be, the other 199 are ‘foreign’. That’s by definition. They not only speak different languages, they have different laws, traditions, anthems and national sports. Not to mention visa requirements.

Every country has its internal policies, but every country also has a foreign policy for dealing with those 199 other “foreign” countries that share this planet.

This month Latvia will mark the 90th year since it first established a foreign policy. Such a policy came about because 90 years ago, on January 26th, 1921, Latvia became a foreign country too, along with all the others in the world. If you have a country, you need a policy toward everyone else, and in 1921 Latvia began to earnestly regulate its relations with the rest of the globe-spanning international community.

Those relations were abruptly cut short in 1940 by the Soviet occupation of Latvia. That was followed by a Nazi occupation, which was followed by a second Soviet occupation, which lasted until we declared our independence once again on May 4, 1990. One year later, on August 21, 1991, the international community restored its broken relations with Latvia, and Latvia in turn began rebuilding its ties with everyone else in the world.

We were back in business, globally speaking, and that meant the restoration of direct diplomatic contacts and the re-establishment of embassies, consulates, missions, permanent representations and other forms of interaction with the world’s other countries. We also joined every international organization that would take us, from the UN, OSCE, and WTO to NATO and the EU.

Looking back at Latvia’s foreign policy since 1991, you could divide it into three periods. 1) 1991-1995, re-establishing international relations and removing Russian (former Soviet) troops; 2) 1995-2004, preparing for membership in NATO and the EU; 3) 2004-2010, learning what it means to be EU and NATO members.

Latvia’s last official Foreign Policy Concept was written and approved in 2006 and lasted until 2010. It was largely focused on NATO, the EU, regional Baltic relations, promoting economic interests, and strengthening ties with Latvia’s diaspora.

This year, on January 27 (a day after de jure recognition day) the Latvian parliament will do something it has never done before. It will hold debates on foreign policy. 100 deputies will have a chance to express their views on how Latvia should relate to the 200 or so other countries in the world. The question of the day is very straightforward: what kind of a foreign policy does Latvia need to be a vital and thriving member of this planet? (And a good place to live?)

No doubt many of the issues that dominated our foreign agenda for the last 5 years will continue to shape our national priorities: the EU, NATO, the economy, the Baltic Sea region and bilateral relations with neighbours and other countries around the world. We want to do business with the world and share our knowledge, culture and values with others.

While political scientists make a respectable living analyzing the strategy, tactics and practices of modern foreign policy, it still all comes down to people. There are over 6.8 billion of us sharing this planet, and we’ve found that organizing ourselves into 200 or so countries (which form thousands of additional international and transnational organizations) is one way to regulate our lives and relate to one another.

We do so as countries because despite the unrelenting tsunami of cross-cultural globalization, we retain a firm, stubbornly primeval grasp on the joys of national identity. At least Latvians do. We created this country in 1918, lost it in 1940, got it back in 1991 and have been shaping and forming it ever since. We may not always agree on what to do with it, and will continue to engage in endless debates about where it should be going, but the bottom line at the end of day is this: we sure enjoy having it.

In Latvia, we celebrate the anniversary of our independence by laying flowers at the foot of our biggest dreams.

We pay homage to a past that seems larger than life and is no doubt both worse and better than it really was. The truth of Then comes to life in the conviction of the Now. Historians can and should argue about the facts, but for those of us who embrace the joys of nationhood, it’s the feelings that count.

It feels good to live in a country that speaks your language. In a place where you truly feel at home. Such feelings, of course, can exist in any language in places all around the world, but fate made me and a few million others into Latvians, and like everyone else on this planet, we think that our feelings are unique.

Well, of course they are. They are hard to describe sometimes because feelings are driven by emotions that can’t always be put into words. Poets try, and sociologists vie with psychologists to explain it all in terms only they understand, but the bottom line is a gut feeling that defies all verbalization.

So we express it through sacred rituals, like placing flowers at the foot of a monument in the heart of Riga. The monument was built only 75 years ago but it seems to embody a national feeling that goes back distant centuries. It depicts selfless warriors, founding fathers and all-embracing mothers. We use symbols of the past to give us strength in facing the future.

In our national anthem we sing of girls that blossom and boys that sing, and then pay tribute to another big dream: that our sons and daughters will dance in happiness in this land. We know that life consists of ups and downs, and in the last few years the downs have dominated, but when we sing about our kids and look at Mother Latvia at the tip of our monument, we look up.

Are things looking up in Latvia today? Latvian Independence Day is one of those times when even the most cynical and skeptical Latvians are allowed to dream. We dream about our ancestors and invite them into our hearts and homes to visit, hoping they will remind us why having a country called Latvia is so important.

We also dream about our children and grandchildren and their children as well, and hope that they will take our dreams even further. Then we take those kids to the foot of the monument and teach them the power of flowers. And the magic of dreams.

I happen to be a firm believer that dreams can come true. And that’s not a feeling, it’s a fact. Because back in 1978 I stood at the foot of that monument in the heart of Riga and had a dream that was truly bigger than life and beyond the realm of rational expectation. It defied the odds of probability and flew in the face of the ruling realpolitik and prevailing political prognostication.

That’s why I’ve been going back to that monument ever since. If you find a place where dreams can come true, you should stick with it. And always bring flowers.

Back in 1992, Bill Clinton won the U.S. presidential election because his top campaign advisor James Carville made everyone in the Clinton campaign repeat one sentence every morning when they woke up: “It’s the economy, stupid”.

This was an internal campaign theme intended to remind everyone that the number one priority of the election and the country was the economy, and how to make it better.

One way a country like Latvia makes its economy better is by attracting foreign investment. But to attract foreign investment you have to be attractive, and since 2008 Latvia has been Europe’s ugly economic duckling.

These days, however, Prime Minister Valdis Dombrovskis is describing Latvia as another kind of bird, more like a phoenix rising from the ashes. He is convinced that he has all the macroeconomic indicators he needs to back that up.

GDP is growing, production is increasing, exporters are exporting more and the consumer price index indicates all kinds of good things. If you want all the facts and figures behind Latvia’s historic internal devaluation, you can check the web pages of the Latvian Institute or Ministry of Finance, or ask the International Monetary Fund and EU. Or just read Bloomberg and Reuters. (Eventually this will all be in college text books, but that comes later.)

Latvia and its international lenders have been in this together since 2008, trying to pull Latvia out of Europe’s deepest hole. Unlike the marketing-man-made “meteorite” of last summer, this crater was for real. But the consensus now seems to be that Latvia is coming out of it: slowly, deliberately and cautiously, but coming out without a doubt. Some still say it’s not fast enough and others are looking for new pitfalls ahead.

But the international community is watching Latvia closely, and be they economists, diplomats or journalists, they are all keenly interested in the outcome. Latvia is trying to do what has never been done before, and in a country where caution is a national obsession, this is quite a leap of faith into an unknown future.

Then again, the future is equally unknown in Europe, the U.S., China and Ecuador, so we are not alone in this. Everyone is flying blind and hoping that the steps they took last year will lead to better results next year.

The people who lent Latvia the money it needed to overcome the crisis are generally pleased with the way the Latvian government has handled things. Lenders like responsible debtors. So do investors. While not everyone in Latvia is pleased with the pace and many are still waiting to find jobs, many entrepreneurs are capitalizing on the changes and producing new business. The government is doing what it can to help.

Mark Allen, senior IMF representative for Central and Eastern Europe thinks that “what has been done here” is pretty impressive. Last week Reuters reported that Latvia and its other Baltic neighbours “had turned the corner” on the crisis. The President of the Czech Republic Vaclav Klaus recently told Latvia’s President Valdis Zatlers that Latvia could serve as a good example to others on how to cope with a crisis.

A recent Bloomberg report on the first successful post-crisis auction of five-year Latvian government bonds says that Latvian financial markets “are showing signs of stabilization”. The last time Latvian bonds were on sale, in June 2009, no one would buy. If you’re wondering what a difference a year can make, it’s $21.7 million. That’s what buyers paid just days ago for the five-year notes.

While some in Latvia still don’t have confidence in the rebirth of their economy, there are many foreign investors who do. And that is something worth noting. It’s easier to believe in yourself when you know that others believe in you. And when those believers happen to be investors with real money that can develop new business and create new jobs, you better believe something good is happening.

So when a guy like me wakes up in the morning and wonders what cheerful things I can say about the country I love, I hear a little voice telling me, “It’s the economy…”. (You can fill in the rest.)

Most people don’t know that Latvia has mountains and even fewer know that they are blue. Actually, Latvia has several “Blue Mountains” on its landscape and even a popular play called “Blue Mountain Marta”. But only one of Latvia’s “blue mountains” can be seen from distant Estonia and is located in the Slītere National Park, although you might need a powerful telescope and a vivid imagination to catch a glimpse of it.
The Slītere National Park is located 180 kilometres northwest of Rīga and is best known for its Cape Kolka, that triangle of land that sticks out to seperate the Bay of Rīga from the Baltic Sea. Although Slītere is one of the oldest nature reserves in the Baltic States, several thousand years ago it was entirely under water. (If you want to know what Latvia will look like after global warming raises the seas again, check out a map of the prehistoric Baltic Sea region.)
According to geologists, the Baltic Sea we know and love today was once called the Littorina Sea and was much larger, thanks to a massive meltdown at the end of the last Ice Age. (Of course, there was no one around the Littorina Sea back then, but that doesn’t stop modern-day geologists from naming things after the fact.)
If you drive up north along the Dundaga-Mazirbe highway you will encounter a steep drop in elevation just after you enter Slītere National Park. At this spot you will see a large wooden observation tower to your right. The tower is located on what was once the ancient shoreline of the Littorina Sea and provides a panoramic view of the entire park.

This is also the location of the Slītere “Blue Mountains” although today we tend to be more modest and call them the “Blue Hills”. If you want to get an even better look at the entirety of the Slītere National Park, go to the nearby Slītere light house. From there you get a spectacular view of was once covered by water, as well as the present shoreline of Kurzeme’s “Livonian Coast”.

From the lighthouse you can also see the southern coast of Estonia’s Saaremaa island which is just across the Irbe Strait from Latvia. The Slītere National Park is famous for its broadleaf forests which cover the ancient coastline and have been largely untouched for untold centuries. It’s also famous for housing more animals than humans. While the ancient Livs and modern tourists tend to congregate in the small fishing villages of Mazirbe, Košrags, Pitrags, Saunags,
Vaide and Kolka that lie along the coastline, the inland forests are full of fox, elk, deer, lynx, wild boar and the occasional wolf. The skies are full of birds because the park is located along a major Baltic flyway. As many as 60 000 birds per hour have been observed flying over the forest during the spring and fall migrations.
This flyway is also popular with major international airlines that use this route to wing their way and to and from the Rīga International Airport. Fortunately for the birds (and their watchers) the tourist-packed passenger planes pass a few thousand metres higher in the sky.
If you prefer watching cruising ships to migrating birds, Slitere’s Livonian coastline is great place to gaze at a steady stream cargo container ships and cruise lines as they make their way between Saaremaa and Latvia into the Bay of Rīga.
Want to feel like a Viking? If you happen to be on one of those Baltic ferries, the view you will see of the Livonian coastline is still almost identical to that which ancient Vikings, Teutonic Crusaders and other Baltic seamen saw when they sailed past these shores a thousand years ago. The endless line of green pines, white sands and blue Baltic waters will also reveal why the Livs chose green/white/blue for their national flag.

So no matter how you look at it, or regardless of your vantage point, the Blue Hills of Slītere are a sight to behold. But hurry, because even if urban renewal never invades this remote part of Latvia, sooner or later, the Baltic Sea will. And anyone who has a summer house up there knows that you never really “own” a piece of land on this planet, you just borrow it for a while.

A few years ago the Latvian Tourism Development Agency ran a promotional campaign called “You Won’t Believe it Until You See It!”, which talked about such things as blue cows, flying people and extraordinary singers. If that campaign were still up and running today, the number one topic would no doubt be the turn-around of the Latvian economy.

But don’t take my word for it. EU Economic and Monetary Affairs Commissioner Olli Rehn said as much when the EU member states approved the latest tranche in loans to the Latvian government: “The program is on track, financial conditions have largely stabilized and the economic situation is showing signs of improvement”.

Yesterday in an analysis of the International Monetary Fund, Martin Hutchinson wrote in SIFY FINANCE: “Nor is the IMF’s track record by any means perfect. On the positive side, its loans to Latvia appear to have had the desired effect in encouraging the government’s austerity program, allowing Latvia to maintain its exchange rate parity and to generate the beginnings of economic recovery. Industrial production, for instance, rose 10.9 per cent in the year to May.”

The Bank of Latvia President Ilmārs Rimševičs agrees. He points out that Latvia’s growing current account surplus “…confirms the assumption that the lowest point in the economic decline is already in the past, which is vital both for the real economy and psychologically. We expect positive GDP growth also in the second quarter as suggested by the results in May, and the manufacturing industry will make the greatest contribution to positive growth.”

BBC is equally positive in its outlook for the Latvian economy. In a country-by-country review of “The Eurozone in Crisis”, BBC passed the following “verdict” on Latvia:

• Experienced one of EU’s deepest recessions, but confidence is returning;
• Fiscal measures having encouraging impact, but still much work ahead;
• Exports now expected to grow at healthy pace;
• Property market recovering and consumer spending growing;
• But fragile economy could still be hit by any threat to confidence.

Pēteris Strautiņš, an economic expert for DnB NORD bank, describes what happened from an insider’s point of view: “Almost everything that was fragile in

our economy has been broken, and the explosive potential that accrued during the beginning of the crisis has already exploded. Now the rubble is being cleared and things are turning forward.” Strautiņš agrees with other more optimistically inclined observers that the Latvian economic recovery „will be slow, but steady”.

Actually there’s a lot of good news coming out of Latvia these days. Latvia’s national airline airBaltic just announced that that it carried 1.472 million passengers during the first six months of 2010 at a 22% rise from the same period a year ago. Many of those passengers may be flocking to our beaches, because Latvia has been experiencing a record high heat wave in July, and more unbelievably hot Nordic weather is expected through August.

Economic recovery is a product of many complex factors, including perceptions, regardless of whether they are all true or not. Latvia’s sudden popularity is evident in a very hot new ad campaign by Old Spice, where the “Old Spice Guy” boasts that his products are so popular in Eastern Latvia “that they made me king”. He adds ”that’s great, because I love grapes”. And if you don’t believe me, you can see it at:

http://www.youtube.com/user/oldspice#p/p/484F058C3EAF7FA6/0/0Cs95FmimP0

Like the improving economy, the blue cows and flying people are really real, although I hope those airBaltic passengers don’t start coming here for the grapes.

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.

Latvia awaits the longest day of the year in what seems to many like the longest year in their lives. Especially if you are trying to balance a budget. Your own, or a government’s.

But the summer solstice on June 21 is a turning point. Spring ends, summer begins, the days get shorter, the nights get longer, and plants, animals and other living things all feel a shift in the world around them.

In ancient times when people watched the sun rise and fall every day with great care, the solstice was a singular event and signaled a significant change in cosmic direction. If you were used to one climactic pattern from January until June, you got ready for the reverse in the second half of the year. You hoped the same applied to your fortunes.

Those who live in steel and concrete cities with fluorescent sunsets, or in tropical climes where the sun is always around, may not relate much to the wonders of the summer solstice. But up here on the 57th parallel  by the Baltic Sea where the sun goes away to hide for months on end, and sometimes barely comes up for a few hours, the month of June is a month to be treasured.

For reasons I can’t begin to explain, Latvians celebrate Midsummer’s Day on June 23^rd. We call it Līgo Day, and the day after that we call Jāņi. For Latvians, this is both their favorite holiday and also their oldest. We’re fairly certain that our ancestors have been singing and dancing around bonfires at this time of the year for several thousand years.

Latvians celebrate the solstice by gathering flowers, decorating everything, building bonfires, drinking beer, singing songs, eating cheese, dancing in circles and staying up all night.

It’s very important to stay up all night in Latvia on June 23, because if you don’t, the sun won’t rise the next day. We have special songs you have to sing when the sun goes down, or else it won’t come up again in the morning. We light the bonfires before sunset so that the wandering sun can find a light once it approaches Latvia again. We do all this with ritual tenacity, and our ancestors have been doing the same thing, year after year, for countless centuries. So far, it has worked. The sun has always risen on June 24^th.

In the last week, the Latvian government, parliament, business community and their social partners have also been working around the clock to avoid an economic catastrophe. The entire world has been watching as Latvia has struggled with massive budget cuts, painful GDP drops, struggling businesses, and growing unemployment lines. The finest economic minds in the world have taken up their rhetorical swords and have been bashing each other daily in a global debate over whether Latvia should devaluate its currency or not.

But as I write, the lat is still pegged to the euro. The government has agreed on a 500 million lat budget reduction, and the parliament has approved it.  Now we await the IMF and EC to give their nod of approval.

And we go out to the countryside, to build bonfires, pick flowers and fill pitchers of freshly brewed beer. We also stroll out into the forest in search of fern blossoms. You can find fern blossoms only at this time of the year, and if you don’t believe they exist, you will never find one.

If it sounds like Latvians look for a little magic around this time of the year, you are right. It can’t hurt. After all, we are facing another turning point in our lives. But one thing we know for sure. The sun will come up tomorrow.

#8   Is Latvia old?

Now that Latvia has reached its 90^th birthday, one wonders…is that a lot or not? Believe it or not, by global standards, we are respectable senior citizens. If you go by the official founding dates of the 200 or so sovereign states in the world, the Republic of Latvia is older than 130 of them!

Granted, we have to make a distinction here between nations and states. Nations are a self-defined cultural or social communities that may not always be states. Or the states that represent a nation may change. The United Kingdom is the third oldest state in the world (goes back to ther 10^th century) but it consists of 4 nations – England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.

The Japanese nation goes back thousands of years but its present state was established in 1947. The Federal Republic of Germany was founded in 1949. The Russian Federation showed up on the world scene in 1991.

Seven countries are the same age as Latvia – Estonia, Lithuania, Armenia, Georgia, Iceland, Poland and Ukraine – all established in 1918. But only 52 countries are older.

Who’s the oldest in the world? Ethiopia. It was established 2,000 years ago. And San Marino ranks second, born in AD 301.

So are we old or not? It all depends on how you look at it.

#9   That old song and dance

We tend to divide time up into the past, present and future, but sometimes they all come together. That’s what makes living traditions so special. They take the best of the past, make it relevant to the present and make you want to do them again in the future.

That’s precisely the reason why the 135-year old Latvian Song and Dance Celebration is still so much alive today. When Latvians talk about their world-famous songfest they tend to stress just how old everything is – the thousand-year old folk songs, the traditional dances and the authentic regional folk costumes. But at the kick-off concert for the XXIV Song and XIV Dance Celebration at the Arena Riga in March this year, everything was new. New musical compositions, new dance choreographies, and new singers, dancers and musicians.

Even older performers, composers, conductors and musicians were doing new things, alongside a new generation of Latvian song and dance enthusiasts. The new choreographies were based on traditional dances, just as the new choir compositions were based on an ancient musical legacy. To a Latvian it all looked and sounded so familiar, and yet it sparkled with dynamism, creativity and freshness of the best contemporary music.

If you want to experience why UNESCO has named the Latvian Song and Dance Celebration a ‘Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity’, try to be in Rīga from July 5-12 this year. This is one living tradition you will never forget.

#10   A place of our own

The planet Earth is home to over 200 countries, more than 6 billion people, thousands of nationalities, and a remarkably diverse melange of over 6,900 languages.

Latvia is among them. Just 1 out of the 200, and just 2.3 out of the 6 billion. Looking at the numbers helps put it into some kind of perspective, but doesn’t explain why it’s so important to a Latvian that he can speak his language in a country called Latvia.

Latvians today travel all over the world. Low airfares and a wide choice of routes from Riga let Latvians go anywhere on the globe and listen to how the other 6 billion speak their languages in their countries. It’s an enriching experience. Latvians themselves speak many languages, from the ubiquitous English and Russian, to the neighbouring languages of the Germans, French, and Scandinavians.  More and more are learning Japanese and Chinese.

Moving about the world and speaking a lot of languages makes you appreciate what you have at home. Each part of the world we visit has an essence all its own, created by the land, the people and the language they speak. Each can exist and survive independently. A piece of land will remain after its people have gone. A people can be driven from their land and still survive, somewhere else, maintaining their traditions and culture. And the language will travel with them.

But a certain kind of magic occurs when the land, the people and the language are one.  Regardless of who we are, where we live or who our ancestors were, we feel that magic when we are in a country where the three are physically and spiritually united. We breathe it in the air and drink it in the water. We take energy from it, and take memories with us when we return home.

And there is no place like home. That’s why so many of us Latvians like to visit those 200 countries and see some of those 6 and 1/2 billion people, because we know that we have a place of our own we can always come home to.

#11   How Latvians rest

Like a lot of Latvians, I live in the city but spend my free days in the country. My wife and I have a house in the forest near the northern Baltic Sea coast. On a clear day you can see the coast of Estonia’s Saarema Island, just 30 kilometres away. The locals tell us that in the old days when the channel between Mazirbe and Saarema Island froze up, young Estonians would walk across the ice to find work in the Latvian fishing villages that line the coast.

My wife and I now drive a 180 kilometres to this same place get away from work. Or so I thought. Most urban Latvians either have a house in the country, have relatives with a house in the country, or know someone else with a house in the country. We go there to get away from the city, the traffic, the hustle and bustle and the daily drudge of work. We like to be near the sea, a river or lake, and always feel more comfortable when there are a lot of trees around. Since 40% of Latvia is covered by forests, this is not a problem.

Except that once we get away from all the work in the city, we throw ourselves into working around the homestead. We grow grass and then mow it. We create gardens and then weed them, seed them and constantly cultivate them. We clear dead trees, chop wood and then stoke up the fireplace and sauna so that we can relax from all the hard work we did all day.

Sometimes after an invigorating weekend in the country, I find myself returning to the city to get some rest. And I look forward to the next weekend back in the country. For Latvians. working around the house is often the best form of rest.

#12   The Amber (Latvian) Way

Latvia, like the 200 or so other countries in the world today, is seeking to develop a competitive identity that will help it promote tourism, investment, international cooperation and general good will. Recent research has suggested that for Latvia, there are three aspects of our national identity that are distinctive: our achievements in science, our well preserved environment and our rich and multi-faceted culture.

We can find plenty examples of each but is there something that unites them all? Believe it or not, it could be amber.

Thanks to the Baltic Sea, amber has always been plentiful on the shores of Latvia and is one of our most beautiful and coveted natural resources. A thousand years ago traders from as far away as Greece followed the Amber Way north to the River Daugava to acquire precious amber from the Baltic Sea coast.

Naturally, amber plays a prominent role in Latvian culture. It is part of our jewelry, art, folklore and traditions. It is in our songs, our symbols, and our souls.

Now it is at the leading edge of global biomaterials research as well  A major scientific breakthrough in the use of amber has been achieved in Latvia by Dr. Inga Lasenko of Rīga Technical University She has discovered how to make hi tech thread from amber!

That’s right, she’s taken this familiar fossilized resin and turned it into a fine textile for in vitro medical applications in the treatment of cardiovascular diseases. She’s discovered that natural amber protects organisms from viruses and bacteria, and in a textile form this unique ‘amber yarn’ has a wide range of potential technical and industrial uses. Top fashion designers have something else in mind and are already contacting Dr. Lasenko to learn more about this new way to adorn yourself with ‘Latvian gold’. Amber scarves, blouses, skirts and pantyhose? Why not?

For Latvians, amber has always been a valued natural resource and a treasured national symbol. We’ve been unlocking its secrets for a thousand years. Now it’s a hi tech textile and a possible a high fashion accessory. Latvians really do know their amber, no matter how you look at it.

The following piece was translated and adapted from an article published in DIENA, Feb 11, 2003.

And if there is a war?

Just like everyone else, I’m worried about a war in Iraq. Wars anywhere always shake up the rest of world in some way, and I’m sure that a war in Iraq, would have an affect on Latvia.  So I’ve been following the news, reading the statements, listening to the opinions and trying to figure out who really knows what’s going on. And what should be done to fix it. Some kind of resolution is needed, because the global situation is tense and growing more dangerous.

Do I want to see a war in Iraq? Of course not. I’d prefer never to see another war ever again. Wars are lousy ways to resolve human differences.

But what if there is a war? What then? What should be my attitude be toward that war and the people waging it?

The Government of the United States of America has concluded that Saddam Hussein is a threat to the world. He’s a bloody tyrant who controls monstrous chemical, biological and nuclear weapons of mass destruction. He’s already used some of them in a war against Iran and on Kurds in Iraq, so it’s no stretch to imagine he could use them again on someone else. Most of the world’s governments seem to agree that something needs to be done about it. Utilizing the broadest international authority they have – the United Nations – they have tried to compel Hussein to disarm for the last 12 years. He’s refused.

The Americans say the situation is bad and getting worse. All international diplomatic, political and economic instruments have been used to bring Hussein around, but nothing has worked. So the US has turned to the world, through the UN, and asked for a resolution that would call for an allied military invasion of Iraq. There would be three goals: 1) remove Hussein as leader of Iraq, 2) seize and destroy all the weapons of mass destruction, 3) cut off Hussein’s assistance to international terrorist networks.

It strikes me that all three goals are worthy. But how do we achieve them?

Obviously war means death. Soldiers die and civilians die. Given Hussein’s nightmarish arsenal of high tech death machines, the potential casualty count in a war where these are unleashed could be enormous. But even if there isn’t a war, the threat remains as long as the weapons remain. Washington believes that with good planning, hi tech weapons and co-ordinated international co-operation, a successful military action could be launched against Iraq. Proponents of an invasion believe the Hussein government could be toppled and the weapons seized with minimal allied and civilian casualties.

Not everyone agrees with the US on this. Nevertheless, the US has asked for UN support and international co-operation to form a coalition that would combine its military and political resources to bring an end to Hussein’s rule in Iraq. Unity is not only important militarily, it could even be more critical politically. As long as the world’s countries argue among themselves, Hussein can sit and wait till the cows come home. But if a majority of the world’s countries agreed that Hussein had to go and announced their readiness to invade tomorrow, Hussein may finally get the hint and leave the country tonight.

Some find this highly unlikely, but it’s not out of the question. And it is the one sure fire way of preventing a war.

If, however, Hussein follows Hitler’s lead into a bunker somewhere in the hills of Iraq, the invading forces would have to contend with the Iraqi army and people. How long would they resist? Especially if they understood that 1) the world was united against them and 2) the only way they could stop the war and hope to resume normal political and economic ties with the rest of the world would be to abandon Saddam Hussein to the dust heap of history?  Do they love their leader or simply fear him? And if it is fear, then the best way to battle it is to eliminate its source.

Once again, there are no guarantees that this will happen, but it is a plausible possibility. I’d like to see the UN join forces and convince the Iraqis that this is the best way out. But what if it can’t and the US decides it’s now or never?  How should I, and how would I want my country of Latvia react to this war? If the US-led alliance attacks it won’t matter much whether the UN has sanctioned it or not. That can be debated by the political scientists and historians later. We will be faced with the fact that several hundred thousand American and allied forces will be putting their lives on the line. A war will be underway, lives will be in danger, and those who are fighting will look to those who support them for help to bring the conflict to a speedy resolution.

Latvia looks upon the United States as an ally. We have applied to join NATO so that we could be allied with the US and 18 other countries. By joining NATO we ask other nations to help us in times when our security is threatened, and thus we promise to help them when theirs is threatened as well. The US Government has concluded that their security is threatened, and that world security is threatened. They have asked the world, allies or otherwise, to help them eliminate this threat.

The issue of whether a war is necessary or not becomes a moot point once it has started. Given Latvia’s foreign policy goals and desire to join NATO, it seems that we have a moral obligation to help our allies in times of war.  Sooner or later Latvia’s parliament may have to vote on a request from the United States for military assistance in Iraq. Latvia’s parliamentarians should keep in mind that later this year American parliamentarians – the US Senate – will vote on whether to let Latvia into the NATO alliance or not. We have asked for their help. We should be prepared when they ask for ours.

Latvia’s president, foreign minister and other officials have told the US that we will help them in whatever way we can if a war breaks out. I doubt if the US will ask for much because we don’t have much to give. But I’m glad that we announced our readiness to assist. That’s what good allies are supposed to do.

Nobody wants a war, but if a war breaks out and your friends are involved, it’s important to help your friends. It’s been said that in international relations there are no friends, but simply national interests. Well, I believe that for some democratic nations like the US, having friends is part of their national interest.

Over the last 15 years, in restoring Latvia’s independence and securing it, Latvia has not had a more important friend than the US. We are lucky to have many friends in the international community, but the US is clearly the largest and most powerful. The US supported our independence legally, politically and materially, and facilitated the removal of Russian troops from our territory once we achieved that independence. It continues to help us today. (The US spearheaded support for our NATO candidacy.)

Now the US has turned to us for help. It still has differences with other allies about the war, but if it does proceed, all indications are that it will lead a fairly broad coalition of democratic countries. The US is investing the most in material and human resources and faces the greatest losses in a possible war. But it feels it is doing it for the greater good.

I don’t know how to achieve the greater good. I don’t like achieving it through war. But if there is a war, I hope it is short, effective and causes minimal casualties in achieving its goals. And if Latvia can help even a little in achieving these goals, I will feel proud of my country. As we enter our 12^th year of restored independence, we will demonstrate that we not only accept help, but can also give it.

LIPS answers 7 of the world’s least frequently asked questions.

1. 1. If Rasputin played baseball, what position would he have played?

LIPS: None. He would have worked in the training room. Prophetic prestidigitation beats a Jacuzzi anytime, especially when you’re trying to hit a curve ball.

1. 2. Why was Alexander so great?

LIPS: Drugs.

1. 3. Where was Adolph Hitler when Napoleon was marching roughshod all over Europe and where is George Patton now that we need him?

LIPS: Probably all in the same place.

1. 4. Who is the Maharajah of Mysore and how is he related to the creation of Mylanta, Myadec and Mydol?

LIPS: You’ve got to be kidding! Haider Ali, late 18th century Mysorian macho-man, ruler of what is now generally unknownn as Karntataka, was a devout Muslim and therefore had no earthly need for vitamīns, headache pills or hangover juice. Allah was a one-man drugstore even back then.

1. 5. Why isn’t Switzerland closer to the Atlantic Ocean?

LIPS: France is in the way. (A fact that remains true evento this day.)

1. 6. What happened to the Kingdoms of Persia, Prussia and Siam and why isn’tanyone talking about it in the Republic Party?

LIPS: Ever since Richard Nixon, the GOP has been gun-shy about raising the dead.

1. 7. Who was the first man to climb Mount Prospect?

LIPS: Eriks Mezmiks, a Latvian saxaphone player who was also the first person to sail around Blue Island, swim the length of Canal Street and broke a world record for continuous scuba diving in Northlake.

The most “Latvian” songs in all recorded history are sung around bonfires on the nights of Jāņi and Līgo during the Midsummer Solstice. They cannot be translated, for as the poet Imants Ziedonis has theorized, its often the sounds of the words and the vibrations they release in your body as you sing them, that produce the magic effects that have captivated generations. This was just an experiment to see if something of the sense of this celestial turning point in time could be captured in the Anglo-Saxon tongue.

turn again

turn again

turn it round and round the bonfire, turning

spring is gone and summer’s coming

turning

rain is pouring, thunder’s rumbling

turning

turn again

turn again

turn it round and round the bonfire, turning

lads are running after lassies

turning

rolling in the velvet grasses

turning

turn again

turn again

turn it round and round the bonfire, turning

sing a song and then another

turning

sing it with your sister’s brother

turning

pour the beer and make it lather

turning

raise a toast to all who gather

turning

turn again

turn again

turn it round and round the bonfire, turning

break your bread with every neighbor

turning

celebrate your earthly labours

turning

find the fern and kiss the flower

turning

feel the minutes flow like hours

turning

turn again

turn again

turn it round and round the bonfire, turning

thank your father and your mother

turning

throw a kiss to all the others

turning

sing and dance away the sorrow

turning

love today to see tomorrow

turning

A Viking looks at Latvia today

(Based on a speech delivered to a regional Scandinavian Rotary Club meeting in Riga, Latvia)

Serious historians will tell you that the word ‘viking’ is not a  noun and does not describe a person or people. It was instead an activity that was undertaken by certain people – Danes, Swedes and others – who lived in this region over a thousand years ago.

You could say that ‘going viking’ was an early form of tourism in the Baltic Sea region. A large group of people got into boats and visited their neighbors. After some negotiation, they brought home a lot of souvenirs.

However, modern marketing has turned the word ‘viking’ into a noun, and thus we refer to these early Scandinavian tourists as ‘vikings’. If Hollywood can make a large bearded Scotsman like William Wallace look like a short Australian actor named Mel Gibson, than I can call the ancestors of today’s Scandinavians ‘vikings’.

We all know that the Vikings of the 9^th century used to visit here a lot. Some came to visit the Liv settlement that was located along the banks of the river Daugava. But most sailed on further south thru Russia, all the way down to the great  ancient city of Byzantium. Thus, even before Easy Jet and Ryanair, Riga was a popular transit point for travelers.

What would happen if one of those Vikings from the 9^th century sailed into Riga in the 21^st century?  Well, if he were to start from the island of Gotland and sail along the northern Kurzeme coastline, he would probably think he was still in the 9^th century. Looking at it from the sea, that coast has not changed a bit. He would  see an endless wall of green Latvian pine trees backing up an equally endless stretch of white sandy beach. His first shock might come when he encountered a wind surfer sailing out from the fishing village of Mazirbe. To a Viking, one man on a small board with a sail, without a shield or sword, would probably seem rather odd.

Odd as he might be, a wind surfer was no threat. The threat would come when he rounded the Kolka horn and found himself confronted by a dozen crazed summer vacationers buzzing around him on high-powered Jet Skis. As a seasoned pirate, I’m sure he’d admire their speed and mobility, but he’d probably wonder  where their stored all their loot. Jet Skis are loud and powerful but they have no storage space whatsoever.

He’d get his answer as he traveled deeper into the Bay of Riga and confronted a fleet of huge metal ships carrying enormous heaps of cargo. If these were modern day Vikings, they had obviously collected an awful lot of souvenirs from the locals –  forests of tree trunks, mountains of grain, stacks of  Honda Civics and boatloads of Finnish tourists. He’d probably assume these Finns were slaves that had been collected by other Vikings from the mainland, although he would wonder why they all looked and sounded so happy.

By the time he entered the mouth of the River Daugava, he would realize that the old Liv settlement had turned into a teeming metropolis of nearly a million inhabitants. After sailing past huge docks, large cranes and hundreds of cargo ships, he would finally approach the gates of the city itself.

The Riga Castle on the right bank would look familiar. It’s been there since the 14^th century and looks no different than the old castles that guarded other cities on the Dauagava River on the way south to Byzantium. The 29-story steel and glass castle on right, however, would be intimidating. Vikings were never good at siege warfare and this one would be a tall order, to say the least.

And yet, the building would tempt him.  Once he learned that the wealth of modern cities was stored in banks, this impressively large building had to be much more valuable than the old castle across the river. After all it was called the Hansa Bank, and our Viking knew that Riga was once one of the most important cities in the Hanseatic League. If it had 29 floors, it had to be storing an awful lot of gold and silver.

But as he went from floor to floor, he’d find nothing but desks and chairs and computers. After asking around he’d realize that in the 21^st century, gold and silver had been replaced by paper money. Well, if paper money was valuable today, he might as well fill his pockets with that. When he asked one of the guards where he could find a vault where all this valuable paper money was stored, he’d be directed to an ATM machine.

Soon enough he would discover that his trusty two-handed sword was no match for an ATM machine – especially a sword without a microchip and a pin code.

So he’d head across the river into the heart of the city where the tradesmen sold their goods. There had to be lots of money there. Once he got over the first shock of all the new buildings in Riga, his next shock would come when he learned that even paper money had become old fashioned in this town.

So what does a Viking do? What else but go over to the Nordic Council offices in the Berg Bazaar and ask for help. He was familiar with Viking councils in his Nordic homeland, so this one had to have information.

Being discrete, he’d tell them that he wanted to do some ‘business’ in Riga. They’d say no problem. If he wants to acquire things in this city, he needs a laptop, wireless access to the Internet and an e-account at one of Latvia’s 23 banks. And while he might feel more comfortable at an old-fashioned market located near the train station near Old Town, if he really wanted to stock his ship with treasures from around the world, he’d have to visit some cyber markets called Amazon.com and E-bay.

Clearly, this kind of information would drive a Viking to drink. And what better place to find a drink than in the pubs and bars of Riga’s Old Town? But here he would encounter another surprise. Back in the 9^th century the Danish Vikings spent a lot of time trying to chase the Brits out of England. Where did all those Brits go? Apparently they all came to Riga, because the city pubs are full of them. So many, that their Queen, Elizabeth the II, came here recently to shoo them all back home to their wives and mothers.

Had the Viking come to Riga in the middle of the summer on June 23, he would notice something else rather strange about this Latvian capital. He would see very few Latvians. Where did they all go? He could go into an Internet Café and log onto the Latvian News Agency LETA to find out what’s going on. He’d  read about something called the free movement of labor and might conclude that most of the Latvians had gone over to England and Ireland, to replace all the Brits that had come to Riga. But that isn’t the full story.

The fact is, most Riga Latvians would be out in the countryside, celebrating the summer solstice, which we call Jāņi. A Viking always loves a good celebration, so our friend would probably rent himself a Volvo and go look for a roaring bonfire. He’d find thousands of them all over the countryside. Now here, he might start feeling at home again. There would be plenty of song, buckets of beer, wild dancing and people leaping about madly with oak leaves on their heads.  To our Viking, this would be the first real sign of civilization as he knew it.

Strengthened by beer and cheese and emboldened by all this nostalgia, he might start thinking about what any self-respecting warrior does best. He’d want to make war on these Latvians. After all, with all the flowers in their hair, they all looked like a bunch of peace-loving hippies.

But a good Viking usually checks out his adversary before he launches an attack. These dancing and singing Latvians did seem like a lively bunch, but did they have a real army hidden away somewhere in the woods?

So our Viking would go under cover and do a little spying. Over the next few months he would find out that Latvia did have an army, but no more than about 5,000 active duty soldiers. No problem. If he went back and got a few boatloads of his Viking friends, he could easily overwhelm the locals.

From the Nordic Council he had learned that there were many Scandinavians in Latvia and they were represented by embassies. Perhaps he could recruit some Viking warriors from these embassies. It would save him a trip back home. So he paid a visit to the Norwegian embassy in Riga.

But here he was confronted with another shocking revelation. It turns out that these Latvians had joined some kind of organization called NATO, and that his fellow Norwegians were also a part of this military alliance. Not only wouldn’t the Norwegians help him, they were all too busy opening hypermarkets and hotels in Riga.

No luck there. So he tried the Danish embassy. The Danes were always good Vikings and never passed up an opportunity for a little fun. There the news was even worse. The Danish ambassador told him that not only were the Danes a part of this NATO, but so were over 20 other tribes from Europe and the New World. These Latvians now had friends and allies in Germany, Poland, England, Italy, Spain and a dozen other places that he had never heard of. Byzantium, the city he used to visit by way of the Daugava River, was now in a country called Turkey and they too were a part of this NATO. Even Vinland, that large land across the ocean discovered  by his countryman Leif Ericsson,  had joined this  NATO. Worse yet, all of these NATO armies were gathering in Riga at the end of November for something called a Summit.

This was outrageous. His last ray of hope was Sweden. He was delighted to learn that at least the Swedes hadn’t joined this enormous alliance. When he asked the Swedish ambassador where he could find some friends who could help him with a special project, he was told to go to the Swedish Chamber of Commerce in Riga. ‘Commerce’? Well, that made sense. Going Viking was a form of commerce, so he tried it.

Not wanting to reveal his invasion plans right away, he told the Chamber of Commerce that he was looking to start a ‘joint venture’ with other Swedes in Latvia, one which would help all of them get rich.  The Swedish Chamber was very helpful.

They told him that he should to get a room at the Reval Hotel, open a bank account at UNIBANKA, and get a job with TeliaSonera. Then they lent him an Ericsson mobile phone and gave him a list of numbers to call.

Clearly, this was not what he had in mind. So he went back to the Swedish embassy and looked up the Swedish military attaché. If anyone could help him raise an army, he would be the person to do it. Soon enough he discovered that even if the Swedes were not a part of this NATO, they might as well be.  You see, much of the military equipment used by the Latvian army that he had hoped to defeat with his fellow Vikings, had been donated to the Latvians by, of all people,  the Swedes.

The world had really changed. Danish and Norwegian Vikings were now allies with these Latvians, and Swedish Vikings were supplying them with weapons. And that’s when he realized, he had already missed the boat. The ancestors of this fellow Vikings were already here. He could fly here on Air Baltic, buy Carlsberg beer and Danish tobacco at Narvesson, get into his Saab or Volvo and fill up with gas at Statoil before doing his shopping at Rimi. And if he wanted to learn how his fellow countrymen did it all, he could sign up for some courses at the Stockholm School of Economics in Riga. If you can’t beat ‘em, might as well join ‘em.

Riga

October 21, 2006

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Its time to go to battle,

the trumpets have been sounded

unsheath your sword, adjust your shield

and march

march into the face of those that doubt you

march into the glare of hostile fire

march along with others who surround you

march alone armed solely with desire

march the paths that others trod before you

march thru pathways never trod before

march despite the voices that implore you

march when you can ‘t take it any more

march as if there wasn’t a tomorrow

march for all the love left in your life

march to kill the pain and drown the sorrow

march  to end the conflict and the strife

march for all that’s good and all that’s holy

march for those whose marching days are through

march for all the sad and all the lonely

march for those who still depend on you

march through sunny fields and sparkling meadows

march into the darkest depths of hell

march along with memories and shadows

march where all before you nobly fell

march because you must, because you have to

march because you have no other choice

march a lively step and snappy tatoo

march because you hear that inner voice

Its time to go to battle

the trumpets have been sounded

unsheath your sword

adjust your shield

and march

march into the face of fear and terror

march into the jaws of the unknown

march because you are another bearer

marching for the place that you call home

marching for your family and loved ones

marching for your hearth and sacred home

marching to the tune of the unsung ones

marching to your destiny alone

Dedicated to the strēlnieki  and others who have fought for Latvia’s freedom –  November 17, 1999

#21   Mr. Ambassador

In 1937 a 26-year old Latvian diplomat named Anatols Dinbergs went to New York to serve as Vice Consul. When the Soviets occupied Latvia in 1940, Dinbergs, like most Latvian diplomats abroad, refused to return. Since the United States did not recognize the Soviet annexation of Latvia, but did recognize the Republic of Latvia that Anatols Dinbergs represented, he retained his diplomatic status in the U.S.

Dinbergs represented Latvia in the U.S. for the next 51 years. In the 1941 he joined other Latvian diplomats-in-exile at the Latvian Legation in Washington, D.C.  They all enjoyed the same diplomatic privileges and immunity that other Washington diplomats were granted, were invited to White House receptions and met with U.S. presidents. In the next 5 decades Dinbergs would meet with Presidents Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush and Clinton.

In 1970 Dinbergs became head of the Latvian Legation in Washington. Although he was similar to an ambassador, he was not called ambassador because you needed to have an embassy to have an ambassador. Since Latvia was under Soviet occupation and did not have a legal government, it could not upgrade the Legation to an Embassy. Thus, for 21 years, Dinbergs was called ‘Charges d’affaires of Latvia’ , although in practical terms, he was treated like any other ambassador in Washington.

When Latvia’s new Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis came to Washington D.C. and met with Anatols Dinbergs in July 1990, only Dinbergs represented the legal Republic of Latvia. Godmanis was head of a Soviet Latvian government still under Moscow’s de facto control. They worked together, although diplomatically they had to stand apart. On July 30^th, 1990, I was with Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis and Foreign Minister Janis Jurkans when they met with President George H.W. Bush in the Oval Office of the White House. Dinbergs could not be present, because he represented one Republic of Latvia, while Godmanis represented another.

Those two republics came together a year later, on August 21, 1991, when the USSR collapsed and Latvia fully restored its independence and sovereignty. On September 2, 1991 I joined Dr. Anatol Dinbergs and crowd of TV and press reporters in his Legation office to watch President George H.W. Bush make an historic announcement from his vacation home in Kennebunkport, Maine. Bush formally recognized Latvia’s independence and restored full diplomatic ties with the new Latvian government in Riga.

Bush’s announcement effectively turned the Latvian Legation into the Latvian Embassy, and made Anatol Dinbergs an Ambassador. After 50 years of dutifully serving his state in exile, Envoy Dinbergs became Ambassador Dinbergs, Latvia’s first Ambassador to the United States.

Although Ambassador Dinbergs died in 1993, he had lived to see Latvia restore its independence, and after a 51 year interruption, was able to serve his government in Riga again. The truth is, regardless of his diplomatic status, Anatol Dinbergs had served Latvia all his life.

#22   The state of being Baltic

Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia have been known as the Baltic States for 90 years. Each of our countries has a language, culture and history of its own, yet in the world at large we are usually grouped together. We have ourselves to blame for that, because we tend to experience major historical events around the same time. We all founded our republics in 1918, we were occupied by the Soviets in 1940, restored our independence in 1991 and joined NATO and the EU in 2004.  In headlines announcing all these events, we were always identified as the Baltic States, and only later as separate countries.

In the United States, where I once lived, many people who knew nothing about Latvia, Lithuania or Estonia, knew a little bit about the Baltic States. At least they knew that they existed, somewhere up north by the Baltic Sea. Some knew we were occupied by the USSR, others knew we had singing revolutions to bring about independence.

When I began traveling around Europe after we became independent in 1991, I discovered that most Europeans knew as little about Latvia as Americans did. Europeans, like the Americans, had heard of the Baltic States, but few knew the difference between Latvia and Lithuania.  If they had heard of Riga, the probably thought it was in Estonia.

In the last 17 years since independence, Latvia, Lithuania and Estonian have become better known. We win Eurovision contests and medals in the Olympics, produce internet telephones and high tech microphones, but I suspect that a majority of people in the world still can’t tell us apart. When the Lithuanian football team played in Prague recently, the Latvian national anthem was played to welcome them. Ooops!

Latvians want to be known as Latvians, just as our neighbors want to be known as Lithuanians and Estonians, but like it or not, the world is going to keep on calling us the Baltic States. That’s what you get for making a name for yourself on the Baltic Sea.

#23   Being Latvian

Earlier this summer I was visited by a young Latvian-American man who was about to graduate from West Point. Graduating from West Point is an exclusive and prestigious accomplishment for any American, but it is especially rare for a Latvian.

Technically he’s a Latvian-American because he was born in the US, and his parents are second generation Latvian-Americans whose parents were refugees from the Second World War.  But like many of us who grew up outside of Latvia, his parents taught him the language, traditions and customs, and instilled him with a deep respect for his Latvian identity.

He was visiting me because he was doing a summer research project for the Bank of Latvia about the impact NATO has had on Latvia’s economy and society. Not much has been done on this subject, and the findings of an American-educated, West Point cadet should prove interesting.

When he graduates from West Point he will be a lieutenant in the US Army and during his next 5 years of active duty, will probably spend time in Iraq or Afghanistan. If he goes to Afghanistan he might chance to meet some soldiers in the Latvian army who are also serving in the peacekeeping forces there.  The uniforms may differ and the chain of command may lead to different capitals, but they will all be Latvians and can probably sing the same folk songs.

His interest in and respect for Latvia goes far beyond just politeness to his parents and I got the impression that years from now he would be returning to Latvia in a new role, serving in some new capacity. I hope so, because Latvia needs young men like this.  The place you were born isn’t half as important as the place you hold in your heart. From what I could tell, his heart was in the right place.

#24   Reaching milestones

Although Latvia this year is marking the 90th year of its birth, another anniversary worth noting is 17. This marks the 17^th year since Latvia has restored its independence in 1991. That may not seem like a lot until you realise that Latvia’s first experience with national sovereignty, democracy and self rule lasted for only 22 years, from 1918 until 1940.

To patriotic Latvians, this first brief stab at independence, the ‘Ulmanis era’, takes on almost mythically legendary proportions, and understandably so. Those 22 years have been our only frame of reference for more than half a century. And when you remember that the previous 700 years were always spent under someone else’s rule, then those short 22 begin to loom large in the national consciousness. Latvia’s identity as a nation was shaped during that brief period, and despite the 50 years of destruction, occupation and deportation that followed, another Latvian identity, similar to the first, but different, is emerging.

And we are already 17 years into the job. That’s the part that startles me the most. Those of us who have been alive to witness and participate in Latvia’s second independence have been rebuilding Latvia for 17 years – nearly the same time that our parents and grandparents had to build the first republic back between the World Wars.

They proved you can do a lot in 22 years. How do we compare? Like them, we are rebuilding after a war. Latvia’s first state was built after the devastation of World War I and a war of liberation. Latvia today is rebuilding from an even more devastating World War II, plus 50 years of foreign occupation to boot.

We are doing it in a different world; a globalized, digitalized cyber world where small changes over a short period of time can have a big longterm impact on a vast group of people. As members of NATO and the EU, our place in that world is now known by more people than at any other time in history.

My parents lived through those first 22 years, but sought refuge in the West when Latvia was occupied. They never lived to see Latvia regain its independence. It feels like I’ve returned to Latvia in their place, to pick up where they left off. That’s why I’m looking forward to 2014, when I can say I’ve lived and worked during 23 years of independence. Kids always try to do a little more than their parents did.

#25   When the Prime Minister met the President

Few people realize that the first time a Latvian Prime Minister ever met the President of the United States, Latvia was not yet independent.

Under the Soviets, Moscow called Latvia the ‘Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic’ and our parliamentary body was known as the Supreme Council. In early 1990 the people of Latvia elected a majority of pro-independence deputies to the Supreme Council and on May 4, 1990 the Council voted in favor of restoring the original Republic of Latvia. It was a bold declaration to re-establish full independence. You can imagine how Mikhail Gorbachev felt about that. He didn’t like it and didn’t recognize it. Nevertheless, the Supreme Council chose Ivars Godmanis as Prime Minister and gave him the task of realizing the declaration.

A month later I met with Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis in Riga. I was working for the American Latvian Association in Washington, D.C. and had known Godmanis when he was a leader of the Latvian Popular Front. During that meeting we agreed that the time was ripe to bring Godmanis, and his Foreign Minister Jaņis Jurkans, to Washington. D.C.

Like Moscow, Washington, D.C. in 1990 still did not recognize the restored independence of Latvia.  Unlike Moscow, Washington was very interested in making the Latvian wish come true.

So in July of 1990 Latvia’s Prime Minister Godmanis and Foreign Minister Jurkans arrived in Washington, D.C. Since the U.S. didn’t recognize the legality of Soviet rule in Latvia, Godmanis and Jurkans could not be received as foreign dignitaries. They had no official status in the U.S., no bodyguards, no Secret Service protection. They were just two guys from Soviet-ruled Latvia who wanted to talk to someone about independence.

I greeted them at the airport in a rented car and for a week the three of us went around Washington, D.C., knocking on doors and talking to anyone who would listen. We went to the U.S. Congress, State Department, think tanks and TV stations. The Soviet Embassy in Washington watched all this with understandable annoyance, but took solace in the fact that at least, those upstart Latvians weren’t showing up at the White House.

But Soviet satisfaction didn’t last long. After a week of talking, lobbying and explaining all around town, we met U.S. Senator Robert Byrd. He was convinced that the White House was the exact place Godmanis and Jurkans needed to be. So Byrd called President George H.W. Bush and urged him to meet with the Latvian leaders. Bush agreed. On July 30^th, 1990, Prime Minister Godmanis, Foreign Minister Jurkans and I walked into the Oval Office of the White House to meet with the President of the United States. We were supposed to only meet for 15 minutes – a standard courtesy call – but the discussion went on for 40 minutes.

Thus, the first time a Latvian Prime Minister ever stepped foot in the White House, he still didn’t represent a fully independent country. That happened

14 months later when the world, and the United States (September 2, 1991), formally recognized the restoration of the Republic of Latvia. The next time Prime Minister Godmanis returned to the White House he was escorted by a full complement of Secret Service agents. The Republic of Latvia was back in business.

#26   Rockin’ the Kremlin

Once upon a time electric guitars were illegal in the Soviet Union. That’s because in the late 1950’s rock and roll was illegal in the Soviet Union. Granted, not everyone in the West was crazy about the emergence of rock and roll either. It was energetic, provocative and challenged accepted standards, beliefs and values. It shook people up.

As a college student in the US in 1968 I knew rock was revolutionary because people like Bob Dylan, Frank Zappa and Jimi Hendrix were turning the world upside down. My world then was Western, democratic, stable and even a little boring. Many in my generation agreed that society and politics were ripe for change.

It was only recently that I learned that Latvia in the 1960’s was the birthplace of a rock and roll revolution in the Soviet Union. The first ‘illegal’ handmade electric guitar in the USSR was built by Valery Saifudinov (Seisky) in Riga. A sawed-off acoustic guitar was attached to a block of wood, while magnets and wires needed for the pickup were stolen from Riga pay phones. In 1962 Saifudinov created the rock band ‘The Revengers’ which became the USSR’s first rock band.

In 1966 Pete Anderson’s Latvian rock group The Melody Makers organized a rock concert in Riga, the first ever in the USSR. 2,000 tickets were sold out in 10 minutes, but 15 minutes after that the KGB cancelled the concert. Thousands of fans showed up anyway to protest the cancellation. They carried posters that said ‘Free the Guitar!’. It was an unprecedented public protest against Soviet government policy.

Similar rock and roll protests began to emerge throughout the former Soviet bloc – in Prague, Budapest, East Germany and even Moscow.

A documentary film about these and related events, called ‘Rockin’ the Kremlin’ is now being produced by Nick Binkley and Doug Yeager, and will be directed by multi-Emmy award winner Jim Brown. It tells the remarkable story about the global social and political impact of rock and roll. It throws light on a remarkable period in our contemporary history, and helps many begin to understand that rock and roll is not just about sex and drugs, it’s also about the freedom of the human spirit.

In the past we idolized rock and roll heroes because of what they did on the stage. ‘Rockin’ the Kremlin’ tells the story of people who are rock and roll heroes because of what they did in the streets.

#27   From Park Place to Rīga

There was a time when the world’s most popular board game, Monopoly, was banned in Latvia. I don’t know if the Soviets actually had a law that made this classic capitalist game taboo, but you couldn’t buy it in stores. Like rock and roll records, foreign books and TIME magazine, Monopoly was a hot commodity in the black market, and a popular item to be smuggled in by relatives visiting from the decadent West. Really enterprising Latvians made the game themselves out of pieces of cardboard, drew their own board and cards, and gave all the properties Latvian names. On weekends Monopoly ‘dissidents’ would secretly gather in dimly lit apartments and clandestinely engage in the subversive activity of buying and selling American-named properties like New York Ave. and Marvin Gardens..

Now Latvia is free and so is Monopoly. Not only can you buy the classic Monopoly game in any Latvian store, you get it in a slick, colourfully printed Latvian version that’s set in Latvia and even sells Latvian properties.

But this year, Hasbro has a created a World Edition of this classic game, called ‘Monopoly Here and Now’.  To determine which 22 of the world’s top cities would be featured as properties in the new game, Hasbro asked fans around the world to vote on the Internet. After 5 million votes were counted, Montreal took the top position and the honour to be the ‘Boardwalk’ of the new global edition. And who was chosen as Park Place? Riga, Latvia.

Cities like New York, London, Paris, Beijing and Tokyo all made the list, but ranked lower that Riga in voter popularity. How on earth did Riga beat out the world’s most glamorous cities? I think the explanation is obvious. The people who live in those other cities, never had to make their own Monopoly games by hand.

The soldiers of misfortune

(Ode to the Latvian Legion)

Somewhere in the lonely night an angry trumpet sounds

the smoke that filled the meeting rooms heads for the battlegrounds

They write their manifestos and fill them full of lies

the men who give the orders are never those who die

Let us pay our respects and express our regrets

to the soldiers of misfortune

they fell and died while the nation cried

and now they must fall again

The words that burn with passion have forged an iron will

to reach a goal by telling men they have a right to kill

The cause is always just, they say defend it with your pride

and know with every step you march that god is on your side

Let us pay our respects and express our regrets

to the soldiers of misfortune

they fell and died while the nation cried

and now they must fall again

Don’t listen to the other side that questions our commands

this is the only way to save our sacred fatherland

You never chose the flags that flew as you went into battle

they dressed you up in gray and brown and slaughtered you

like cattle

Let us pay our respects and express our regrets

to the soldiers of misfortune

they fell and died while the nation cried

and now they must fall again

The trumpets have been put aside the smoke has blown away

but broken hearts are bleeding still with little left to say

New judges and historians are handing out the blame

and those who fought for liberty are forced to hide in shame

You once were called to battle and asked to a sacrifice

now once again its you, my friend that pays the highest price

Let us pay our respects and express our regrets

to the soldiers of misfortune

they fell and died while the nation cried

and now they must fall again

(June 14, 2000)

#28   The land that sings about singing

Just as every country has a flag, every country in the world has a national anthem. Citizens usually sing their national anthem on national days, or to begin important events, although many will sing their national songs spontaneously, when seized by a feeling of pride or patriotism. We hear others sing their anthems most often at sporting events.

But what do they sing about?

In Austria they sing about mountains, while in Bangladesh they praise banyan trees and mango groves. Denmark mentions the Vikings in their national anthem, while in the Netherlands they raise their voices for William of Orange. Brazil, Greece and Bolivia express heroic thoughts about freedom, while the United States and Turkey sing about their flags. Many countries stress God’s role in the destiny of their land.

Latvians too ask God to bless their country in Latvia’s national anthem.  The anthem is even called ‘God Bless Latvia’. But in their anthem, Latvians also sing about singing and dancing. One reason for this may be that the song was first performed in Riga in 1873 at the First Latvian Song Celebration. It was written by Karlis Baumanis 45 years before Latvia became independent, in 1918.

Ironically, the first time a Latvian choir sang the song, they had to replace the word ‘Latvia’ in the lyrics with ‘Baltija’. Back in 1873 Latvia was under Czarist Russian rule, and Moscow frowned upon national anthems in their empire. But less then a half century later, the Czarist Empire collapsed, Latvia declared its independence, and on November 18, 1918, the word ‘Latvia’ returned to the lyrics of “God Bless Latvia.” Two years later, in 1920, it became the official national anthem of the Republic of Latvia.

After Latvia was occupied in 1940, the national anthem was totally banned by the Soviets in Latvia. You couldn’t sing the words, you couldn’t even hum it. But hundreds of thousands of Latvian refugees in exile still sang it proudly in other countries around the world. Like the flag, the anthem returned again in 1989, and by 1991, when Latvia restored its independence, the anthem was restored to its place of honor as well.

Although Latvia has changed in 90 years, the words of its anthem have not.  The blessing that Latvians ask God to bestow on their land consists of a simple, and very typically Latvian request – make our daughters bloom and our sons sing, and we know they will dance together in happiness. Not a bad thing to wish for your country.

God, bless Latvia,
Our dearest fatherland,
Do bless Latvia,
Oh, do bless it!

Where Latvian daughters bloom,
Where Latvian sons sing,
Let us dance in happiness there,
In our Latvia!

#29   The returning

Long before there were Latvians, there was a land covered by ice. When the ice melted and the glaciers retreated, life returned to the land. As streams and rivers flowed into the sea, people flowed into the land. Just as the landscape transformed itself through the movement of ice and water, so too the ancient peoples that settled here adapted to these changes. Tribes, languages and cultures evolved, sometimes clashing, but also coalescing.

About a thousand years ago the idea of ‘being Latvian’ started to come together as well, as tribes with similar languages and cultures began to merge into a nation. That nation became a state in 1918, forming the Republic of Latvia. Latvia’s independence was interrupted by invasion and occupation in 1940.

Following a hot war that blazed around the world, a cold war descended upon the land. Hopes, dreams and aspirations were frozen in time by a new glacier that destroyed lives and smothered living cultures. The heavy weight of this crushing totalitarian glacier did not begin retreating until 1991.

For Latvians today, the last 17 years have meant the end of another Ice Age. The ancient symbols of the warming sun and enriching water continue to serve as powerful metaphors for Latvia’s resurgent cultural, economic and political life.

The Baltic Sea too has come alive. Once a forbidding barrier to a free world outside, it is now an inland lake surrounded by the most prosperous countries of the European Union. It is also part of what Latvia seeks to protect by being a member of NATO.

The Latvian poet Rainis has written that ‘He who evolves himself, endures.’ This is something every Latvian understands, for nature teaches that life is constant change, movement, transformation and evolution. Evolution can be a painful process and not all can survive its diverse challenges. Even retreating glaciers continue to claim victims, but they also release the earth to produce new life in their wake.

The State of Latvia has returned and is celebrating its 90^th birthday. The ice has melted. It’s good to be back.

#30   When dreams become reality

I was working at the Latvian Legation in Washington, D.C. when Latvia restored its independence in August 1991. We received a lot of congratulations in the ensuing days, from old and new friends, but there is one I will never forget.

After interviewing me for a radio program, a young American reporter turned off the tape recorder and blurted out a confession. “I really envy you Latvians. You have just won back your independence, thrown off the shackles of an occupation and have been given a chance to rebuild your country! The past is over and everything is ahead of you now. In America we had our revolution and war of independence over 200 years ago. We have nothing to rebuild here, just a lot of things we have to fix. That’s boring. You Latvians have an exciting future ahead of you, and no matter what happens, you now can do something about it.”

I have to admit, I did feel lucky back in 1991. And it was exciting. It seemed almost unbelievable. After 50 years in a Soviet Union everyone thought would last forever, Latvia was independent again. Latvia had changed, the world had changed, and those of us who wanted to live and work in Latvia had our work cut out for us.  But it was work we had always dreamed we could someday do.

In the early 1990’s we reshaped the government, the laws and the way we interacted with the world.  We privatized and made unheard of profits. We established embassies, joined international organizations, rebuilt cities and sent our presidents around the world. Our economy grew, new opportunities opened up and yes, new problems replaced the old ones. Today our economy is struggling, our political parties are bickering, and the euphoria of those early days is a faded memory.

But I think that the American reporter had it right. Life in Latvia has not been boring. For me, it has been a rare stroke of luck to be a Latvian these last 20 years. It’s also been a privilege to participate in so many aspects of Latvia’s rebirth, development and growing pains. I have not only seen a dream come true, but have also had a chance to contribute something to it.

Of course, that dream is not yet fully realized. We are still rebuilding and in some cases, already fixing things we built not that long ago. The restoration of a country and the healthy regeneration of a nation takes time, hard work and toughness. There are always many disappointments along the way.

But when a dream comes true once in your life, you start to believe it can happen again.  When I think about where Latvia has been, where it is now, and where it could be in the future, I still let the dreams fly.

#31   Brains, birches and song.

Over the summer the Latvian Institute asked the young people of Latvia to tell us what kind of Latvia they want to see in 10 years. In September we received over 500 responses from some very bright girls and boys. While talking about the project with a journalist, he asked me what my vision of Latvia in 10 years would be like.

I was taken by surprise. All year I had been asking the kids of Latvia how they would like to see this country, but what about me? Once I started to think of things, I realized my wish-list could go on forever. As a citizen, I wanted to see a country where people felt secure, happy and prosperous. As a parent, I wanted to see a country where my children and grandchildren would be glad to live.  As a diplomat, I wanted to see a state that was respected internationally and had good relations with the global community. As a person concerned about Latvia’s image in the world, I wanted to see a country that left a good impression on anyone who visited, and had a good reputation among those who hadn’t.

I wanted to see a Latvia that was admired by tourists, but not so popular that our streets are taken over by endless tour groups. I would like foreign investors to take a serious interest in Latvia, but not so much that they control our economy. I want Latvia to be in the news, but not for problems, crises or scandals, but because of successes, victories and achievements.

I’m sure that my wishes aren’t that different from those of most of the 2.3 million people who live in Latvia. The problem, as always, is how do you get there?

I then thought of the Latvian Institute’s recently completed research on a potential brand strategy for Latvia. It concluded that Latvia’s reputation in the world could grow considerably, if we developed three specific areas of our national identity: 1) Our respect for knowledge, science and education, 2) Our love for nature, 3) Our rich and multi-faceted culture.

So, if you’ve got brains, love birch trees and like to sing, you have a lot in common with the Latvian people. On the other hand, if we can make our people even smarter, make our environment even greener and rely on our culture to make it all come together, Latvia will not only be better known around the world, it will also be a better place to live.

#32   When dreams come true

I was working at the Latvian Legation in Washington, D.C. when Latvia restored its independence in August 1991. We received a lot of congratulations in the ensuing days, from old and new friends, but there is one I will never forget.

After interviewing me for a radio program, a young American reporter turned off the tape recorder and blurted out a confession. “I really envy you Latvians. You have just won back your independence, thrown off the shackles of an occupation and have been given a chance to rebuild your country! The past is over and everything is ahead of you now. In America we had our revolution and war of independence over 200 years ago. We have nothing to rebuild here, just a lot of things we have to fix. That’s boring. You Latvians have an exciting future ahead of you, no matter what happens, you now can do something about it.”

I have to admit, I did feel lucky back in 1991. And it was exciting. It seemed almost unbelievable. After 50 years in a Soviet Union everyone thought would last forever, Latvia was independent again. Latvia had changed, the world had changed, and those of us who wanted to live and work in Latvia had our work cut out for us.  But it was work we had always dreamed we could someday do.

In the early 1990’s we reshaped the government, the laws and the way we interacted with the world.  We privatized and made unheard of profits. We established embassies, joined international organizations, rebuilt cities and sent our presidents around the world. Our economy grew, new opportunities opened up and yes, new problems replaced the old ones. Today our economy is struggling, our political parties are bickering, and the euphoria of those early days is a faded memory.

But I think that the American reporter had it right. Life in Latvia has not been boring. For me, it has been a rare stroke of luck to be a Latvian these last 20 years. It’s also been a privilege to participate in so many aspects of Latvia’s rebirth, development and growing pains. I have not only seen a dream come true, but have also had a chance to contribute something to it.

Of course, that dream is not yet fully realized. We are still rebuilding and in some cases, already fixing things we built not that long ago. The restoration of a country and the healthy regeneration of a nation takes time, hard work and toughness. There are always many disappointments along the way.

But when a dream comes true once in your life, you start to believe it can happen again.  So if we want to make Latvia even better than it is, we have to keep dreaming.

#33   Still Being Latvian After All These Years

There are more than 6 and a half billion people in the world, and most of them have some kind of national identity. Our planet is full of people who call themselves Chinese, French, Venezuelan, South African or Norwegian. All of us have some national identity, although by the 21^st century most of us have inherited many national ancestries.  We tend to pick and choose which countries and nationalities we want to identify with. Some with the country they live in, others with the place they were born, others simply grow to like a certain part of the world and become a part of it.

For me, being Latvian gives me an interesting vantage point for functioning in the world.

First of all, I didn’t choose it, I was born into it. My parents both were Latvian, and as far as I know, most of their parents and grandparents were also Latvian.  Although I was born in Munich, Latvian was the first language I heard around me as an infant. I later went to school and started a career in an American-speaking country called the United States, where I was reminded every day that I was a Latvian.  (With a name like Ojars Kalnins, you always get questions.)

Language, ancestry and other people’s curiosity have made me very aware of the fact that I am a Latvian. Having worked for Latvia in some capacity for the last 25 years has also made me a bit more national-identity conscious than your average person. Being a Latvian among Swedes, Russians, Danes and Germans at an international conference on the Baltic Sea region, gives me a totally different perspective on any issue that is raised.  The Swedes are watching it all from Stockholm, the Russians from St. Petersburgh, and I see it all from Riga’s Old Town. We are all looking at the same sea, but we are seeing it through our national filters.

Being Latvian is fun at ice hockey games, and being Latvian is an experience unlike any other during the Song and Dance Celebrations. When the economy dips and inflation rises it doesn’t much matter what nationality you are, tough times are tough on everyone. But as a Latvian, I can escape into the forests of Kemeri and regenerate my spiritually batteries along the white sands of the Kurzeme coastline.

My parents taught me that their parents taught them, that being Latvian means surviving obstacles and appreciating the goodness of life when you can. When I look at the tall, straight pines of Sliltere I remember that they have weathered forests fires and Baltic Sea storms, and look as beautiful now as they did a thousand years ago.  That’s when I enjoy being Latvian the most.

#34  In the middle of things

Throughout its history, Latvia has always been in the middle of things.

From the moment the words ‘Baltic States’ first became known in the international community, Latvia was always the middle one. We couldn’t escape that. Never will. As long as the countries of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania are always lumped together and called the Baltic States, Latvia will always be the geographic, political, cultural and spiritual middle one. It must come with the territory.

Latvia is also in the middle of everything that is going on in Scandinavia, Russia, and the North Sea, which is one of the main reasons why Riga looks the way it does today. Although there are financial centres throughout the EU, Riga is pretty much in the middle of all of them. If it happens in London, Paris, Brussels or Berlin, it has an effect on Riga.  Things that happen here are felt in those cities as well.

Latvia is so used to being in the middle of everything, it comes as a surprise when we are left out.  When Germany and Russia agreed to run a gas pipeline through the Baltic Sea, we were offended that they didn’t include us in the deal. Lithuania and Estonia are equally concerned, as are Sweden, Finland and a lot of other neighbors, but Latvia is in the middle of it all, any way you look at it.

Some would say that Latvians take a middle road in most of the things they do.  Back when the Baltic States restored their independence in 1991, foreign affairs analyst Paul Goble liked to distinguish the temperaments of the three nations by telling this slightly enhanced story about how we each dismantled our hated Lenin monuments:

“ In Lithuania, Landsbergis gave an impassioned speech on TV and thousands of Lithuanians rushed to the public square in Vilnius and tore it down with their bare hands. In Latvia, the government appointed a committee of politicians who supervised a committee of engineers, who studied the project for several days and then quietly dismantled the statue in Riga in the middle of the night. In Estonia, no one knew where the Lenin monument was located, so the government hired a Finnish company to come in and take it away.”

When President Bill Clinton came to toast the Baltic States in 1994, he met all three presidents in Riga, the midpoint of the legendary 1989 Baltic Way human chain that he mentioned in his speech.  When NATO decided it was time to have a summit in the middle of the Baltic States in 2006, it chose Riga as the place to host it.

At times it seems like Latvia is midway between everything. Between success and failure, prosperity and poverty, the past and the future. North, south, east or west, from Riga you can look in any direction you want and Latvia seems to be in the middle of it all. It’s not that we are self-centered as a people. We‘ve just always been surrounded by the rest of the world