Ethnopolitics in the New Europe, by John T. Ishiyama and Marijke Breuning

 

4. The Russophone Parties in Estonia and Latvia

 

The disintegration of the Soviet Union in December 1991 left in its wake millions of Russophone “colonists” in the former republics of the USSR. ₁   Nowhere has the treatment of these populations received more international attention than in the Baltic states, particularly in Estonia and Latvia. The arduous debate over citizenship for the Russophone residents has kindled charges of racism and fascism lodged against the governments of the newly independent countries. Yet despite the obvious ethnic tensions independence has generated in Estonia and Latvia, Russophone political activism has remained rather limited. This is not to say that there has not been a concerted effort to form organizations that could express the aspirations of the Russophone population, but not to the extent that has occurred with the Bulgarian Turks and the Slovakian Hungarians.

Unlike in either Bulgaria or Slovakia, where the minority populations have been included in the political process, in postindependence Estonia and Latvia, the Russophones have been all but excluded from political life. In neither case do significant ethnopolitical parties exist that represent the Russophone population. Nevertheless, exclusion has not bred the kinds of desires expressed by the Slovak Hungarians or the Bulgarian Turks.

Why has it been the case that the evolution of the Russophone political organizations in the Baltic states differs so greatly from either that of the MRF in Bulgaria or of the Hungarian parties in Slovakia? Indeed, as will be demonstrated shortly, the historical, economic, demographic, and political pressures on the Baltic Russophone population have been even more intense than on either the Hungarian population in Slovakia or the Turkish population in Bulgaria. But this has not led to the growing radicalization of the relatively weak Russophone political parties. What, then, are the primary factors that account for the lack of radical demands made by the Russophone parties in the Baltic states? Moreover, what accounts for the differences that exist between Estonia and Latvia themselves? For the level of political activity of the Russophone population is far greater in Estonia than in Latvia, and the demands made by the organizations purporting to represent the Russophone population in the former have been far greater than in the latter.

To address these questions, as in preceding chapters, the following sections will first identify the various pressures facing the Russophone populations in Estonia and Latvia. This chapter then identifies the political opportunities presented by the structural features of the post-Soviet Baltic political systems, as well as the structure of competition these parties face. The primary contention is that the Baltic Russophones have not yet formed the identity necessary to fuel the emergence of vibrant ethnopolitical parties, largely because of the recent nature of the community in the Baltics and the persistent influence of Russian politics on the Baltic scene. However, there are major differences that distinguish the evolution of the Russophone communities in Estonia and in Latvia, making the latter more likely to produce a more radical ethnopolitical party in the future than the former.

 

Historical Background

The Russophone Community in the Baltic States

The present territories of the current Baltic states (Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania) have long been the subjects of external pressures from powerful neighbors. The eastern Baltic littoral was conquered after the Crusades, and the local pagan peoples were Christianized and reduced to servitude by the Teutonic Knights in the thirteenth century. Subsequently, the region was governed by a confederation of princely estates of the Teutonic order. After the Reformation, the Teutonic order was reduced in significance, and the Baltic lands were subjugated by the Polish-Lithuanian kingdom, then Sweden, and then finally the Russian Empire. Throughout this period, the Germanic landowning nobility and the merchants of the Hanseatic League dominated political and economic life in the area, with the local peoples enserfed. ₂   The conquest of the region by Peter the Great in 1721 did little to change the dominance of the Baltic Germanic nobility, who retained their privileges and political and cultural autonomy. ₃

After the Russian conquest of the region, Russians (mainly officials, soldiers, and merchants) began to populate Estland and Livonia, but only in very small numbers. However, in the middle of the nineteenth century, the tsarist government introduced measures to Russify the region—measures designed to undermine the power and influence of the German nobility. Russification was also accompanied by the relocation of a large number of Russian peasants into what is now Estonia and Latvia. Many of these found their way to newly industrializing cities like Riga and Tallinn. As a result, the population of Riga by 1913 was only 39.8 percent Latvian while 20 percent was ethnic Russian. The Bolshevik revolution brought more refugees to the independent Baltic states, especially white officers, Russian-speaking Jews, and others who fled Bolshevik oppression. By the end of the 1930s, both Latvia and Estonia had substantial Russian populations (see Tables 4.1 and 4.2).

Table 4.1 Ethnic Composition of Latvia, 1920–1989
Ethnics Group	1920 (%)	1939 (%)	1959 (%)	1989 (%)	1995 (% of Group Who Are Citizens)
Latvians	74.4	75.5	62.0	52.0	98.25
Russians	10.2	10.6	26.6	34.0	37.75
Germans	3.8	3.2	0.1	0.1	25.68
Jews	—	4.8	1.8	0.9	44.67
Poles	—	2.5	2.9	2.3	60.82
Ukrainians/Byelorussians	—	1.4	4.3	8.0	5.99/19.22
Lithuanians	—	1.2	1.5	1.3	20.31
Total minorities	25.6	24.5	38.0	48.0	—
Sources: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 433; Latvia Human Development Report, chap.2.

 

Table 4.2 Ethnic Composition of Estonia, 1934–1989
Ethnics Group	1934 (%)	1959 (%)	1970 (%)	1989 (%)
Estonians	88.2	74.6	68.2	61.5
Russians	8.2	20.1	24.7	30.3
Germans	2.2	0	0	0
Ukrainians/Byelorussians	—	3.0	3.7	4.9
Others	1.4	2.3	3.4	3.3
Total minorities	11.8	25.4	31.8	38.5
Source: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 434.

With the annexation of the Baltic states by the Soviet Union following the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, much of the local Russian population was systematically exterminated as enemy opposition communities in exile. The German occupation from 1941 to 1944 also reduced the number of local Russians. By the end of World War II, the great majority of the Russian community in the Baltics had been liquidated, eliminating “a group which might later have built bridges between the Russian and Balt[ic] communities.” ₄

Following the war, a massive influx of immigrants from various parts of the USSR flooded the Baltics, which more than made up for the wartime losses in the local Russophone population. The lure of jobs and the policy of the Soviet government to dilute the Baltic population in order to strengthen Soviet loyalties led to the rapid expansion in the number of ethnic Russians and other nationalities. Thus, for instance, although 75 percent of the population was ethnic Latvian in Latvia just prior to the war, by 1989, the proportion of Latvians in the population had been reduced to just over 52 percent. Ethnic Russians accounted for 10.6 percent of the population in 1939; by 1989, this had risen to 34 percent. In Estonia, the growth of the Russian portion of the population increased less rapidly, from 20.1 percent of the population in 1939 to 30.3 percent in 1989. By 1989, ethnic Estonians accounted for only 61.5 percent of the population.

As far as the patterns of residence in Latvia for the immigrant population are concerned, immigrants settled across Latvia, concentrating mainly in the cities. By 1989, immigrants constituted a majority in six of the major cities of the country, with the exception of Jelgava, where Latvians comprised a bare majority. Immigrants made up large portions of the populations of many rural districts, particularly in the eastern part of the republic (see Table 4.3). ₅   The patterns of residence in Estonia, however, were quite different. Immigrants were concentrated in Tallinn and in the northeastern region of the country, particularly around the town of Narva (Table 4.4).

Table 4.3 Resident Population in Latvia by Nationality, City, and District, 1994
City or Districts	Latvians (%)	Non-Latvians (%)
Cities
Daugavpils	13.8	86.2
Jelgava	50.7	49.3
Jurmala	45.1	54.9
Liepaja	42.1	57.9
Ventspils	45,2	54.8
Rezekne	38.4	61.6
Riga	37.5	62.5
Districts
Aizkrakles	75.4	24.6
Aluksnes	78.5	21.5
Balvu	73.7	26.3
Bauskas	70.8	29.2
Cesu	83.8	16.2
Daugavpils	37.2	62.8
Dobeles	68.0	32.0
Gulbenes	81.8	18.2
Jelgavas	63.8	36.2
Jekabpils	64.7	35.3
Kraslavas	44.2	55.8
Kuldigas	85.6	14.4
Liepajas	83.5	16.5
Limbazu	87.4	12.5
Ludzas	54.5	45.5
Madonas	85.0	15.0
Ogres	83.0	27.0
Preilu	64.9	35.1
Rezeknes	53.5	46.5
Rigas	60.9	39.1
Saldus	81.4	18.6
Talsu	90.9	9.1
Tukuma	82.2	17.8
Valkas	77.8	22.2
Valmieras	80.9	19.1
Ventspils	93.2	6.8
Source: Latvijas Statistikas Gadagramata, 1993, 56-57.

 

Table 4.4 Resident Population in Estonia by Nationality, City, and District, 1994
City or Districts	Estonians (%)	Non-Estonians (%)
Cities
Kohtla-Jarve City	26.4	73.6
Narva City	4.9	95.1
Parnu City	74.1	25.9
Sillimae City	4.3	95.7
Tallin-North	40.6	59.4
Tallin-South	46.6	53.4
Tallin-East	62.3	37.7
Tallin-West	56.9	43.1
Tartu City	74.4	25.6
Districts
Haapsalu	86.5	13.5
Harju	78.3	21.7
Hiumma	95.6	4.4
Jogeva	89.0	11.0
Kingiseppa	93.8	6.2
Kohtla-Jarve	68.1	31.9
Paide	92.6	7.4
Polva	93.5	6.5
Parnu	94.6	5.4
Rakvere	88.3	11.7
Tartu	84.1	15.9
Valga	92.1	7.9
Viljandi	90.4	9.6
Voru	93.5	6.5
Source: Taagepera, “Size and Ethnicity of Estonian Towns and Rural Districts,” 105-127.

The immigrant population in the Baltic republics, though, was far from being a homogeneous entity. First, not all of the immigrants were ethnic Russians: Byelorussians and Ukrainians comprised a large proportion of the immigrant population. The immigrants were further divided not only by their loyalties and their ethnic identity, but also by socioeconomic class. Russophones in the Baltic states came from both the elites and the working classes. Moreover, the Russophone immigrants were drawn from a wide variety of regions, ultimately united by only their common residence. Thus, unlike either the Turks in Bulgaria or the Hungarians in Slovakia, the Russophones in the Baltic states did not represent a long-established minority community but, rather, immigrants who had arrived in the Baltics in the post–World War II period.

Thus, the Russophones in the Baltic states did not represent a stable community with easily identifiable characteristics to set them apart as a community. The symbols that bound them together derived from their connection to the Soviet multiethnic empire. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, these ties melted away, leaving the Russophones in the Baltics “on the whole a... demoralized lot, flung together from all over the Soviet Union.... without any cultural institutions or much sense of community.” ₆   Following Baltic independence, they sought to “fill the vacuum left by the obsolescence of Soviet identity.” ₇   Yet their seeming continuing attachment to symbols of the Communist past existed not because of an enthusiasm for Stalinism, but because of their opposition to the “nationalist” Baltic governments. Moreover, their system of symbols provided them with a sense of identity, a set of cultural symbols that distinguished them from Russians in Russia, with whom they felt little kinship. ₈

The Legacy of the Transition to Independence

Estonia. The period immediately prior to independence had a profound impact on setting the postindependence political stage. During the course of the political convulsions that rocked the two republics in the last years of Soviet rule, several organizations emerged that claimed to represent the non-Baltic, and primarily Russian, part of the population. In 1989, two such organizations were founded in Estonia: Ob’edinennyi sovet trudovykh kollektivov (OSTK), or the United Council of Labor Collectives, and Internatsional’noe dvizhenie trudiashchikhsia ESSR, or the International Movement of Workers in the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic, known as Intermovement. ₉   The OSTK was an organization initially created to coordinate protests against the government’s wish to place all economic activity, including industry, under the control of republican, rather than all-union, authorities. The initial focus of the movement was primarily protecting the interests of non-Estonian workers, although the OSTK was founded mainly by directors of large plants and enterprises subordinate to the all-union ministries in Moscow. Intermovement, on the other hand, concentrated not only on the protection of economic rights, but also on the broader challenges presented by the resurgence of Estonian nationalism. The leadership troika of Intermovement included Vladimir Yarovoi and Igor Shepelevich, both of whom were factory directors, and Evgenny Kogan, an engineer. ₁₀

During the 1989–1990 period, these groups became more politically active, moving beyond their original goal of protecting the interests of the Russophone population in the direction of overt political activity. Thus, at its constituent congress on March 4–5, 1989, in Tallinn, Intermovement attacked the Communist Party of Estonia (CPE) leadership for its tolerance of the Estonian nationalists grouped in the Popular Front of Estonia (PFE). ₁₁   In August 1989, largely in response to the adoption of what they claimed were discriminatory residence requirements for participation in the local election of December 1989, both the OSTK and Intermovement coordinated a series of republic-wide strikes. Approximately 18,000 workers from twenty-six enterprises took part. Although only 5 percent of the republic’s labor force was involved, the action not only shut down supplies for all-union ministries, but interfered with transport and other local activities. ₁₂   Whereas the strike itself was largely unsuccessful in paralyzing the Estonian economy, it did prompt the CPE leadership to acknowledge the political clout of the Intermovement-OSTK alliance. For example, Vaino Valyas, the head of the CPE, acknowledged in September that the CPE had failed to pay sufficient attention to the complaints of Intermovement and OSTK leaders. ₁₃

Latvia. In Latvia, non-Latvian political activity increased throughout 1988–1990, paralleling that of Estonia. On October 18, 1988, the foundation of Interfront marked the beginning of organized activity. The organization’s founding charter was penned by directors of 153 all-union enterprises in the republic. ₁₄   Coinciding with the creation of Interfront was the foundation of the Latvian Union of Workers (Soyuz Rabochikh Latvii), which was designed to organize all-union enterprises (as the OSTK did in Estonia). ₁₅   Moreover, as in Estonia, it was the declaration by the Latvian Supreme Soviet in favor of the establishment of republican sovereignty that intensified the political activities of Interfront. At the fifteenth, and last, session of the Eleventh Latvian Supreme Soviet in February 1990, a resolution was adopted that called for the transformation of the “Latvian SSR [Soviet Socialist Republic] into an Independent Latvia.” It established a commission that would prepare a referendum on the restoration of independence and draft treaties that would define Latvia’s relations with other states. ₁₆

The leadership of Interfront was quick to condemn the action, and the group became particularly active in the establishment of strike committees in the spring of 1990 to protest the declaration of sovereignty. On Latvian television, Ivan Lopatin, Interfront chair and Communist Party of Latvia (CPL) member of the Supreme Soviet, condemned the decision, singling out Communists who had voted in support of the action:

Today you have acted as the party of the representatives of those bourgeois parties of the twenties. Referring to the fact that, in 1940, the people of Latvia were not asked to decide on rejoining the Soviet Union, today also without asking the opinion of the people, you have taken a decision of a similar kind, to please the new ruling class which burst through in our republic, the creative and scientific intelligentsia of the leading clique of the Popular Front of Latvia. You have blatantly trampled on the views of those in the republic who do not agree with what has been proposed and the decisions adopted today. You have deliberately made a split in our society, and let this be on the conscience of those who today voted in favor of that split. I think that we will not have long to wait for a reaction to such decisions. ₁₇

The Legacy of the Dissolution of the Communist Parties

The subsequent push for full independence created a crisis in the ruling republican Communist parties, which fractured along pro- and anti-independence lines. This crisis came to a head in both the CPE and the CPL following the March 1990 republican elections. Those who favored independence argued for the establishment of republican parties that were independent from the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU). This was necessary because, as the first secretary of the CPE put it, “only an independent Communist Party of Estonia can efficiently participate in the new political life of Estonia, change tactics in a flexible way, form coalitions, and compete with other parties and movements.” ₁₈   Similarly, in Latvia, the first secretary of the CPL, Jan Vagris, contended that only through a “radically renewed” CPL could the party survive as the “key coalition for political stability and democratization.” ₁₉   However, the move to establish independent party organizations ultimately led to their division into independent and CPSU loyalist parties. In Estonia, the move to establish an independent CPE at the party’s Twentieth Congress at the end of March 1990, led by Mikk Titma (the CPE secretary for ideology), resulted in the majority of delegates voting to declare the CPE independent from the CPSU. Immediately following the vote, the CPE split into two—the Independent CPE organization and a second CPE consisting of CPSU loyalists. Each organization elected its own Central Committee and its own leadership. In Latvia, at the party’s Twenty-fifth Congress, the CPL also split along proindependence and loyalist lines, although the majority of the delegates supported the loyalist program. ₂₀

However, very different outcomes resulted from the Communist parties’ splits—outcomes that were to have a profound impact on the future course of interethnic political relations in the Baltic states. First, unlike in Estonia, where the bulk of the organizational resources and personnel fell into the hands of the independence-minded faction of the CPE, in Latvia, the CPSU loyalists seized the bulk of the CPL’s resources and elected an archconservative leadership under Alfreds Rubiks, former first secretary of the Riga party organization and chair of the republican strike committee organized by the Latvian Interfront. Second, the party split along ethnic lines in Latvia, with the bulk of non-Latvian membership remaining in the loyalist CPL; indeed, very few non-Latvians joined the Independent CPL. ₂₁   In Estonia, in contrast, not all party organizations that represented Russophone-dominated areas of the republic joined the loyalist part. For instance, the Narva, Sillimae, and Kohtla-Jarve CPE organizations voted to join with the Independent Communist Party of Estonia shortly after the Twentieth Congress. ₂₂   Third, the political rhetoric and activities of the CPL following the split at the Twenty-fifth Congress became more virulently opposed to political independence and adopted confrontational rhetoric that claimed that the proindependence political forces were pushing for the extermination of the non-Latvian portion of the population. ₂₃   In Estonia, even the loyalist branch of the CPE was far more willing to reconcile its differences with the proindependence forces than the loyalist CPL, arguing that the Communist parties ought to use “civilized methods” to debate the issues regarding independence and that the “CPE-CPSU Program would be willing to join a coalition government” in Estonia. ₂₄

These developments were to have several effects on the course of preindependence Estonian and Latvian politics. With the victory of the “reformist” wing of the CPE and its move to maintain the party’s multiethnic character, the threat posed by the CPE to the Popular Front government in Estonia, although not entirely eliminated, took on a less sinister edge. Moreover, the lessening of the threat posed by the CPE to the PFE contributed to the process of internal differentiation in the latter, leading it to moderate its demands concerning independence. ₂₅   As a result, proindependence and anti-independence forces in Estonia did not align solely along ethnic lines.

In Latvia, the CPL, dominated as it was after March 1990 by a leadership with close ties to the virulently anti-independence Interfront, began to claim that the Popular Front government was intent on destroying the non-Latvian component of the population. Unlike the CPE, the CPL throughout 1990–1991 appeared increasingly more willing to employ “extralegal” means in order to forestall the drive toward independence. This led to the polarization of the main organized political forces, with very little room for maneuver between the two camps.

These developments were to have important consequences on the course of postindependence politics in both Baltic states. First, in Estonia, the moderation of the debate over independence did not lead one party or the other to claim that it represented the interests of one of the ethnic groups. This meant that the playing field was relatively open for the later entrance of non-Communist parties that were to claim to represent the interests of the non-Estonian portion of the population following independence. Second, in Latvia, the polarization of politics froze the party alignments, shrinking the political field; “pro-Soviet” became equated with pro-Russian, and for all intents and purposes, the CPL emerged as the self-annointed protector of non-Latvian political rights. Thus, at the moment of independence, Estonian and Latvian party development began at very different stages: Political parties in Estonia had already developed by the end of 1990, whereas Latvian parties remained weak and incoherent at that time. ₂₆

 

Economic Factors

Beyond the legacy of the past, the economic performance of the Baltic states following independence has also served to shape postindependence ethnopolitics. Since independence in 1991, the overall development of the economies of Estonia and Latvia has followed the patterns characteristic of most East European and post-Soviet states: an initial period of economic shock caused by the disruption of previous economic ties, followed by catastrophic declines in production, large-scale unemployment and underemployment, and rampant inflation. However, there a few noteworthy differences when comparing Estonia and Latvia. The shock for Estonia was far greater and more intense; it also came earlier than in Latvia. Thus, declines in real GDP occurred prior to Estonia’s declaration of independence in 1991 and continued into 1992, whereas in Latvia, the greatest decline occurred after independence and especially throughout 1992–1993. Moreover, the extent of the recovery was far more dramatic for Estonia than Latvia, owing to the rapid adoption of privatization measures in the former (see Table 4.5).

Table 4.5 Macroeconomic Indicators and Degree of Regional Integration, Estonia and Latvia, 1990–1995
	1990	1991	1992	1993	1994	1995
Change in real GDP    Estonia	-7.1	-22.1	-21.6	-6.6	6.0	4.0
Latvia	-1.2	-8.1	-35.0	-14.9	0.0	1.0
Unemployment    Estonia	n.a.	n.a.	n.a.	4.3	4.5	4.1
Latvia	n.a.	n.a.	n.a.	6.0	6.5	6.6
Inflation    Estonia	23.1	210.6	1,069.0	89.0	48.0	29.0
Latvia	10.5	124.4	951.2	109.0	36.0	25.0
Latvia    Exports (% of total)       To EC/EU	n.a.	1.7	35.6	24.7	n.a.	n.a.
To Russia and Eastern Europe	n.a.	78.7	44.4	46.1	n.a.	n.a.
Imports (% of total)       To EC/EU	n.a.	2.5	24.8	20.2	51.49	n.a.
To Russia and Eastern Europe	n.a.	71.95	44.5	48.5	n.a.	n.a.
Estonia    Exports (% of total)       To EC/EU	n.a.	1.7	35.6	24.7	n.a.	n.a.
To Russia and Eastern Europe	n.a.	78.7	44.4	46.1	n.a.	n.a.
Imports (% of total)       To EC/EU	n.a.	2.5	24.8	20.2	n.a.	n.a.
To Russia and Eastern Europe	n.a.	71.95	44.5	48.5	n.a.	n.a.
Sources: Eesti Pank Bulletin nos. 1 and 9 (1995) and no. 5 (1996); Economic Development of Latvia, Report.

Although there is little data that permits an accurate assessment of the status of different ethnic groups in Estonia and Latvia in the face of the difficult economic transition, some evidence suggests that there are indeed differences between Balts and non-Balts, as well as differences between Latvian and Estonian Russophones. Table 4.6 illustrates the pattern of unemployment for Latvia in the critical years of 1992 and 1993. At the beginning of 1993, although ethnic Latvians accounted for 53.5 percent of the population in Latvia, they accounted for only 45.2 percent of those unemployed. On the other hand, whereas ethnic Russians made up 34 percent of the population, they accounted for 41.6 percent of the reported unemployed at the beginning of the same year. Over time, however, this degree of disproportionality declined, with ethnic Russians accounting for only 37.1 percent of the unemployed. In Estonia, although there is not comparable data on unemployment for 1994, figures for average income per person in a family are available from 1991 to 1993. In 1991, surveys indicated that 65 percent of Estonian Russians were in the highest income category, but this proportion had declined to only 39 percent by 1993; the largest increase occured in the lowest income category, where 21 percent of Estonian Russians fell in 1993 (as opposed to only 3 percent in 1991). ₂₇

Table 4.6 Unemployment Rates and Population by Nationality in Latvia, 1993—1994
Nationality	Unemployment Jan. 1993 (% of Total)	% of Population 1993	Unemployment Jan. 1994 (% of Total)	% of Population 1993
Latvian	45.2	53.5	48.7	54.2
Russian	41.6	34.0	37.1	33.1
Byelorussian	6.0	4.2	5.6	4.1
Ukrainian	2.5	3.2	2.9	3.1
Polish	1.7	2.2	2.6	2.2
Lithuanian	1.3	1.3	1.6	1.3
Jewish	0.4	0.6	0.3	0.5
Other	1.3	1.5	1.2	1.5
Source: Latvijas Statistikas Gadagramata, 1993, 55 and 82.

Some evidence supports the contention that the economic lot of the Latvian Russian population has improved. In part, this recovery derives from the fact that non-Latvians continue to control the largest share of Latvia’s business sector. Additionally, ethnic Latvians constitute a very small share of the population of the largest cities, especially Riga, so non-Latvians are in a better position to exploit contacts and are endowed with political and economic resources inherited from the past. Non-Latvians also control the transit trade from Russia, an industry where much profit can be made in a very short time. Another reason for the recovery is the high degree of complementarity of values held by the Latvian and Russophone managerial elite in Latvia. Indeed, as Gundar King, Thad Barnowe, and Svetlana Bankovskaya note in their 1994 study of the value orientations of managers in Latvia, there is a higher degree of complementarity of values held by Latvian and Russophone managers than in either Estonia or Lithuania. ₂₈   This suggests that part of the reason for the improved economic position of Latvian Russophones, especially the Russophone managerial class, is that this class has adapted rapidly to doing business in Latvia, unlike Russophones in the other Baltic states.

 

Political Incentives

Estonia

In addition to historical and economic developments, political structures have contributed to the course of ethnic politics in both Estonia and Latvia. In Estonia, the basic framework of the political system was established by the 1992 constitution, which followed the basic structure of the pre-Soviet 1937 constitution. Cognizant of the rise of authoritarian rule in the 1930s, the designers of the constitution were careful to invest the single-chamber Riigikogu (State Assembly) with most of the political powers. The Parliament was to consist of 101 members elected to a four-year term by a variation of list proportional representation. The president was to be elected by the assembly through a two-thirds majority vote; it was largely a ceremonial post. However, in the 1992 election—a one-time exception to the constitutional structure—the president was directly elected, with the provision that if no candidate received an absolute majority, then the election of the president would be entrusted to Parliament. In this election, the popular ex-head of the Communist Party of Estonia, Arnold Ruutel, received 41.8 percent of the vote but nonetheless lost to the ex–foreign minister, Lennart Meri, who had received just 29.5 percent but was supported by the majority of the members of the Riigikogu in the subsequent runoff.

The election law that governed the Riigikogu elections of both 1992 and 1995 was a complicated system based upon party lists that nonetheless allowed individual candidates to run. Indeed, unlike in strictly PR party list systems (such as in the Netherlands), voters were afforded the opportunity to vote for individual candidates rather than party groupings. The country was divided into twelve electoral districts, the first four comprising the four municipal districts of Tallinn and the other eight comprised of two or three neighboring counties or cities combined. Every district, as in all PR systems, was multimandate.

Each party put forward a candidate list, and although voters could vote for individual candidates, they could vote for only one candidate. Once the votes were tallied, the candidate lists were rearranged according to the number of votes received by each, with the candidate receiving the largest number of votes placed at the top. Each list received as many seats in a district as the number of times the number of votes obtained in the district exceeded a simple quota. Individual candidates were elected only when their votes surpassed this quota. If there were any remaining mandates, these were distributed as compensation seats to the parties receiving at least 5 percent of the national vote or to those that had at least three candidates elected by simple quota. The parties then distributed these seats to the candidates they preferred most. ₂₉

One of the most important institutional factors for both Baltic states was the establishment of boundaries for political participation, particularly citizenship laws and voter enfranchisement. In Estonia, the initial citizenship law, adopted on February 23, 1992, was basically patterned after the 1938 citizenship law. The law granted automatic citizenship to all pre-1940 citizens and their descendants. For other residents (with some exceptions, such as those who worked for the KGB), the naturalization process involved a two-year residence requirement, a one-year waiting period, a fairly rigorous Estonian language test, and a loyalty oath. ₃₀   The two-year residency period would begin on March 30, 1990, the day the Estonian Supreme Council declared the beginning of a transition to independence.

Latvia

In contrast to that of Estonia, the Latvian electoral system resembled a more traditional list proportional representation system. The country was divided into only five electoral constituencies, using party lists and a 5 percent threshold. Only registered parties or electoral associations could nominate candidates. Parties and coalitions submitted lists for each of the five constituencies. Certain categories of persons were excluded by law, which aroused a great deal of controversy. Specifically, persons were not eligible as election candidates if they had been active in the CPSU (after January 13, 1991), in Interfront, or in the All-Latvia Salvation Committee, as well as in other pro-Soviet organizations (including some veterans’ associations). Several parties were affected by these provisions in 1995, most notably, two parties that were the successors to the CPL: the Labor and Justice Party and the Latvian Socialist Party (the latter lost twelve candidates to this clause, three of whom had been elected to the Saeima, or Parliament, in 1993). In all, thirteen candidates were removed from the party lists on this basis in the 1995 election.

Each voter received ballot papers for each party or coalition list of candidates. They chose the party for which they wished to vote by selecting that party’s ballot paper. Having received the paper, the voter had the opportunity to reorder the party’s list. They could place a mark next to a candidate’s name, which indicated support for a particular candidate, or they could delete the candidate’s name, or they could leave the ballot sheet unaltered. The candidate lists were reordered based upon voter preferences, and seats were awarded based on the number of votes received and the particular preferences the party’s voters had for which candidates. In all, nine parties passed the 5 percent threshold in the 1995 election.

Although the current electoral systems in both Estonia and Latvia could be classified as proportional representation systems, there are some noteworthy differences, particularly in terms of the quality of representation. As discussed previously, Estonian voters are afforded the opportunity to base their choice on the qualities of individual candidates, rather than merely voting for a party label or program, while the Latvian system follows a more traditional PR format, where individual voters choose only parties and programs. Given this difference, we would expect that the development of ethnopolitics in Estonia would be qualitatively different from that in Latvia. Indeed, according to Paul Brass, the quality of representation is a key element in the promotion or mitigation of ethnic political conflict. Promoting individual competition and an individually based system of representation diffuses ethnic conflict by undermining “the segmental cleavages of plural societies and permit[s] inter-segmental alliances on other bases than inter-elite agreement.” ₃₁

Most important, however, the initial Latvian citizenship law set almost insurmountable hurdles for Russophone citizenship. The issue of citizenship in Latvia had created tensions between the Latvians and Russophones, as well as with Latvia’s neighbors, particularly Russia. The law was passed by the Latvian Supreme Council on October 15, 1991, and granted citizenship to those who could prove that at least one of their parents had been a citizen of the Republic of Latvia prior to Latvia’s occupation on June 17, 1940. ₃₂   All others were subject to provisions introduced for acquiring citizenship via naturalization, which entailed three requirements: a knowledge of spoken Latvian, continuous residence in Latvia for at least sixteen years, and the renouncement of citizenship of any other country. Particularly problematic was the language requirement, since most Russophones did not speak Latvian. The law was never confirmed, however, and action was postponed until after the election of the fifth Saeima in 1993.

In June 1994, the Saeima passed a new citizenship law that set strict quotas for naturalization. The law elicited considerable protest from Russia and local Russophones, as well as from Western Europe and the United States. The latter put considerable diplomatic pressure on the Latvian government to eliminate the quota provisions. In response, President Guntis Ulmanis decided not to sign the document and returned it to the Saeima for reconsideration. On July 22, the Saeima passed a revised bill that did not include the numerical quotas, which was then signed into law on August 11. Residents were eligible to become naturalized citizens if they had resided in Latvia for at least five years, had a command of the Latvian language, and renounced any previous citizenship. In March 1995, adopted amendments liberalized the law further by providing language certificates to persons who had obtained an education either in schools with Latvian as the language of instruction or in Latvian-language classes in mixed schools. Persons with such certificates would then receive automatic citizenship upon registration. ₃₃

Although Latvia and Estonia now have comparably restrictive citizenship laws, the two countries have differed in many ways regarding political citizenship. For instance, in Estonia, voting rights were extended to 170,865 noncitizens, or 19.6 percent of the electorate, for the local elections in 1993. This move might be viewed as evidence to support the contention that the Estonian government’s position on the status of resident noncitizens (i.e., Russophones) has been relatively accommodating, as opposed to the more restrictive laws in Latvia, which limit voting rights to only citizens of the Latvian Republic. ₃₄

 

The Structure of Competition

Estonia

Since independence, the pattern of party politics in the Baltic states has been quite different in Estonia and in Latvia. In Estonia, as one observer notes, “parties have, within a short period of time and with little trouble, assumed a dominating position in the political process.” ₃₅   Although there have been difficulties in institutionalizing the party system in Estonia, the maturation of the system since independence is very much in evidence. In 1992, the first free election in an independent Estonia in over fifty years was held; thirty-eight parties competed for 101 parliamentary seats, with nine parties and electoral unions winning seats (Table 4.7). Moreover, two parties (the Estonian Entrepreneurs Party and the Greens) were represented in the Riigikogu by virtue of individual candidates winning seats outright, despite the fact that their parties had not surpassed the 5 percent threshold. However, in the second election of 1995, the number of parties running decreased to thirty, with only seven parties and electoral unions winning seats and all of the parties surpassing the 5 percent threshold. Thus the 1995 election “reflected the development of more mature parties with well-organized election campaigns.” ₃₆   More significant was the victory in this election of the left-of-center Coalition Party–Rural Union alliance, which called for a “social market economy,” favored European integration, and contained many former Communists. The organization was descended from the Safe Home (Kindel Kodu) alliance in 1992, which had unsuccessfully backed the presidential candidacy of Arnold Ruutel and had won seventeen seats in the parliamentary election. The biggest losers in the election were the government alliance made up of the right-of-center/ nationalist Fatherland (Isamaa) movement and the Estonian National Independence Party (ENIP), which together had won thirty-nine seats and 30.79 percent of the vote in the 1992 election. But by 1995, they were able to secure only eight seats and 7.86 percent of the vote, finishing a dismal fourth. One of the most noteworthy changes in 1995 was the electoral breakthrough scored by the Estonian Russophone parties, which had grouped together as a coalition called Our Home Is Estonia (Meie Kodu on Eestimaa), and had garnered 5.87 percent of the popular vote and six seats in Parliament.

Table 4.7 Election Results, Estonia, 1992 and 1995
1992				1995
Party	% Vote	Seats		Party	% Vote	Seats
Fatherland	22.0	29		Coalition Party/Rural Union	32.23	41
Safe Home	13.6	17		Estonians Reform Party/   Liberals	16.19	19
PFE	12.25	15		Estonians Centre Party	14.17	16
Moderates	9.73	12		Fatherland/ENIP	7.86	8
ENIP	8.79	10		Moderates	5.99	6
Independent Royalists	6.89	8		Our Home is Estonia	5.87	6
Estonian Citizens Party	2.39	1		Right-Wingers	5.00	5
Estonian Entrepreneurs   Party	2.39	1
Greens	2.62	1
Sources: Vabariigi Presidendi Ja Riigkogu Valimised 1992; Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Republic of Estonia, Final Election Results.

Latvia

The Latvian trend was quite different from Estonia’s. Whereas parties appear to have firmly taken root in the latter, parties in Latvia remain relatively weak formations largely dominated by personalities. In fact, the winner of the 1993 parliamentary election, Latvian Way, was a loose grouping of personalities formed just prior to the election. It was viewed by many Latvians as a nomenclatural party because it included so many former Communists, yet it was also viewed as moderate by most Russophones. The party formed a governmental partnership with Harmony for Latvia, another alliance of personalities that had called for the coexistence of Latvians and non-Latvians. However, in the 1995 election, which was prematurely brought on by an extended governmental crisis in 1994, the government parties fared very poorly. Latvian Way won only seventeen seats (down from thirty-six in 1993) and 14.64 percent of the vote (down from 32.38 percent in 1993) (see Table 4.8). Harmony for Latvia (which became the National Harmony Party just prior to the 1995 election) was also a big loser, winning less than half the number of seats it secured in 1993. The Latvian Farmers Union (which had been part of the governing coalition and the exit of which in 1994 had initiated the governmental crisis) also fared poorly; even in conjunction with two other parties on a united list, the party won only eight seats and 7.15 percent of the popular vote, as compared to its 1993 respective figures of twelve and 10.64 percent.

Table 4.8 Election Results, Latvia, 1993 and 1995
1993				1995
Party	% Vote	Seats		Party	% Vote	Seats
Latvian Way	32.38	36		Latvian Way	14.64	17
Latvian National   Independent Movement	13.35	15		Democratic Party	15.15	18
Harmony for Latvia/Revival   of the Economy	11.98	13		Peoples Movement   for Latvia	14.89	16
Latvian Farmers Union	10.64	12		Fatherland and Freedom   Union	11.93	14
Equal Rights Movement	5.77	7		Latvian Unity Party	7.15	8
Fatherland and Freedom   Union	5.36	6		LCNP/Latvian Green   Party	6.32	8
Christian Democratic Movement	5.01	6		National Harmony Party	5.55	6
Democratic Centre Party	4.76	5		Latvian Socialist Party	5.58	5
				Latvian Farmers Union/   Latvian Christian   Democratic Union/Latgale   Democratic Party	7.15	8
Source: Sixth Saeima of the Republic of Latvia, History of the Legislature.

The biggest winners in the 1995 parliamentary election were the parties of the extreme right. Both the ultranationalist and anti-Russian Latvian National Conservative Party (LNCP) and the Fatherland and Freedom Union had won seats in the 1993 elections (twenty-one between them), and they significantly improved their positions in 1995. The Fatherland and Freedom Union more than doubled its number of seats in Parliament, and the LNCP (formerly the Latvian National Independence Movement [LNIM]) formed an unlikely alliance with the Latvian Green Party in an attempt to moderate its image. Yet the LNCP did not fare well, with its popular support shrinking to only 6.32 percent of the vote and its number of seats declining to eight. However, the gains made by the extremist Peoples Movement for Latvia, which had been founded by the German neofascist and former LNCP MP Joachim Zigerists, further strengthened the position of the Latvian nationalists in Parliament. All told, the nationalist Latvian right after the 1995 parliamentary election controlled thirty-eight seats, seventeen more than in 1993. However, unlike in Estonia, where the Russophone parties had attained representation in Parliament, the major Russophone party in Latvia, the Russian Citizens of Latvia Party, received less than 3 percent of the vote and failed to pass the electoral threshold, gaining no representation in the 1995 Saeima.

 

Differences and Similarities Between Estonia and Latvia

In comparing the cases of Estonia and Latvia in terms of the historical legacy, the economic conditions of their Russian populations, and the structure of incentives, several noteworthy similarities and differences emerge. Perhaps the most noteworthy similarity is the high level of frustration on the part of both Russophone populations with the actions of the Baltic governments. As Graham Smith, Aadne Aasland, and Richard Mole have noted, the Russophones’ condemnation of such actions as the citizenship laws and language requirements has been equally strong in Estonia and Latvia. ₃₇   Richard Rose and William Maley have also noted a similar pattern, although the Estonian Russophones appear to view opportunities in Russia to be far more limited than do Latvian Russophones, which reinforces the sense that Estonian Russophones feel they have nowhere else to go (see Table 4.9). ₃₈

Table 4.9 Attitudes of Baltic Russians in Estonia and Latvia
	% Agree
Question: Would You Say That...	Estonia	Latvia
The government treats Russians in this country fairly?	29	27
Noncitizens and minority nationalities are being treated badly here?	31	29
There are conflicts between Estonians/Latvians and Russians living here?	38	34
Conditions for your peers in Russia are worse than they are here?	53	34
This country offers better chances for improving living standards in the future than does Russia?	54	44
Source: Adapted from Rose and Maley, Nationalities in the Baltic States.

In terms of noteworthy differences between Estonia and Latvia, both countries suffered the burden of Soviet rule, but both were not similarly impacted by the residual legacy of the period immediately prior to independence. In Estonia, the transformation of the Communist Party into one that favored independence and the maintenance of a multiethnic coalition in the republic did much to allay the fears of the Popular Front leadership. In turn, this paved the way for the early development of political parties that began to act independently from the PFE. Thus, party development was quite extensive at the moment of independence in 1991. In Latvia, however, the polarization of politics set off by the hard-liners’ capture of the CPL led to the squeezing out of alternative party organizations; in comparison to Estonia, then, Latvian party development at the time of independence was still in its infancy.

The two Baltic republics also differ in terms of institutional factors, such as election and citizenship laws. To be sure, the debate over citizenship laws was equally acrimonious in both countries, and the hurdles established for citizenship were equally daunting. In Estonia, the fact that noncitizens were afforded the right to vote in local elections as early as 1993 and that the Russophone parties were able to make an electoral breakthrough at the national level in 1995 stood in stark contrast to the virtual political exclusion of Russophones in Latvia.

Finally, the structure of competition has evolved very differently in both countries. In Estonia, the initial victory of moderate Estonian nationalists in the election of 1992 was soon surpassed by the victory of left-of-center parties in 1995. Estonian nationalists were therefore in a far weaker position in the Riigikogu than was the Latvian national right, which was able to make significant gains in 1995 despite that fact that the extremist Peoples Movement for Latvia was excluded from the governing coalition.

How did these factors affect the evolution of the Russophone parties in the Baltic states? Based upon the above, we would expect that the trend in Estonia, more so than in Latvia, would move over time in the direction of engaging in accommodative behaviors largely because of three conditions: (1) The period immediately prior to the transition in Estonia was characterized by much less interethnic party polarization; (2) the Russian parties had attained a higher level of organization and political representation in independent Estonia than in Latvia; and (3) the “threat” posed by the Estonian nationalist parties receded following the 1995 parliamentary election, whereas in Latvia, the rise of the extreme right has put added pressures on the Russophone population. The following sections assess the development of the Russophone parties in the Baltic states.

 

Russophone Parties in Estonia

The development of the Russophone political parties in Estonia followed a very different path from that in Latvia after 1991. In Estonia, the citizenship law, the adoption of legislation that limited certain jobs (such as judges and police officers) to only Estonian citizens, and the initial exclusion of the vast majority of Russian speakers from the electoral process in the parliamentary and presidential elections of 1992 increased interethnic tensions. Moreover, the adoption of such measures as the June 1993 Law on Foreigners, which denied legal residence permits to military pensioners and required that the majority of Russian-speaking noncitizens reapply for five-year temporary residence permits, made Russian speakers feel uneasy about the intentions of the new Estonian government; hence, their leaders began to organize to oppose such actions. One of these leadership organizations was the Russian Democratic Movement, which had been founded in 1991 and had ties with Prime Minister Edgar Savisaar, a former PFE leader. Originally supportive of independence, following 1992, the movement began to gravitate toward those who had been radically opposed to Estonian independence. By the summer of that year, the movement had entered into an alliance with the remnants of the OSTK, and a Coordinating Committee was established that was openly supported by members of the Russian-speaking managerial elite who had previously sponsored the efforts of local Communist authorities in opposing Baltic independence. This committee proclaimed that it would seek a special political status for the Russian-speaking majority regions of the northeast. ₃₉

The Coordinating Committee, which later renamed itself the Committee for the Autonomy of Northeastern Estonia, began to call for political and territorial autonomy for the Russian-speaking majority regions of the country. The committee accused former Soviet president Mikhail Gorbachev of “surrendering Baltic Russia which stretches from Narva river to Tallinn to Estonian Nationalists.” To express support for the drive for political autonomy, the committee urged people to place stones in front of the city council building in Narva; however, it was reported that only five stones “the size of potatoes” were left by two pensioners by the end of the rally. ₄₀

At about the same time, another group was formed consisting of Russian speakers who qualified as citizens. Led by eight Russian-speaking deputies of the former Supreme Council, the Interregional Council was established in 1992, and it spearheaded the effort to convoke a Russian Representative Assembly patterned along the lines of the Estonian Congress, the alternative legislature to the Supreme Council established by the Estonian nationalists in 1990. Unlike the Coordinating Committee, which demanded political autonomy, the demands of the Russian Representative Assembly were rather moderate. As one of its leaders, Nikolai Yugantsev, remarked, the assembly did not have the intention to become “a parallel structure of legislative power,” but only to “work within the Constitutional framework.” ₄₁   Further, the assembly expressed a willingness to initiate talks with the various political forces in Estonia, including the governing nationalist coalition of Isamaa and the ENIP. ₄₂   Its goals were limited to those protecting the “human rights of Russians in the country,” particularly in the northeastern region, not those pursuing political or territorial autonomy. ₄₃   Nonetheless, the assembly’s leaders pointed to the rise of “nationalism, interethnic animosity and moral degradation” and the fact that, in Estonia, the “seemingly eradicated fascism is again raising its head... hiding behind patriotic slogans and sometimes quite openly.... Not to notice it is dangerous; not to take action, criminal.” ₄₄

However, with the passage of the language test requirements in February 1993 and the Law on Foreigners in June 1993, the more radical elements within the Russian-speaking community appeared to gain an edge over the more moderate assembly. The Coordinating Committee once again issued a call for the establishment of political autonomy, a call supported by the Russophone mayors of the northeastern cities of Narva and Sillimae. One of the more notorious leaders of the autonomy movement was Vladimir Chuikin, then mayor of Narva, who had been associated with the opposition to Estonian independence (although he claimed to have been on leave during the August 1991 coup). Chuikin had been linked to the “New Men” of the Gorbachev era and had built a solid base of local support in the Narva region, largely via his ability to distance himself from the Communist past and speak in terms of Estonian independence as a threat to Russian cultural life. ₄₅   Chuikin was particularly active in the planning session for a referendum on territorial autonomy for the Russian-speaking majority region of the northeast, held on July 18–19, 1993. He argued that the referendum was necessary because of the discriminative laws passed by the Riigikogu, particularly the Law on Foreigners. ₄₆   However, according to Chuikin, the referendum was being pursued only with great reluctance, for the Russian-speaking population had been forced into taking action; if the Riigikogu had “unambiguously made our rights equal to the rights of Estonian citizens, then the need for a referendum would disappear of its own accord.” ₄₇   The mayor of Sillimae, Aleksandr Maksimenko, went further, stating that autonomy was “the only peaceful possibility of bringing laws which discriminate against the Russian-speaking population into line with democratic norms.... We seek to amend... the law on citizenship and the law on language. Otherwise our city will forever remain a city of foreigners in Estonia and will not extricate itself from the political social and economic crisis.” ₄₈

The controversial referendum, along with a similar one in Sillimae, was ruled illegal by the Estonian government as a violation of the constitution’s guarantee of territorial integrity. Nonetheless, voting was held with a reported turnout of 54.8 percent of the electorate in Narva (97.2 percent of whom supported political autonomy) and of 61 percent in Sillimae (98 percent of whom supported autonomy). ₄₉   The Estonian government, however, condemned the outcome of the referendums, claiming that there had been “irregularities” that rendered both invalid. One of these supposed irregularities was the accusation that groups of voters had been imported from across the border, specifically from Leningrad Oblast in Russia. ₅₀   Another was the accusation that the referendum organizers had inflated the results and that less than 5 percent of the electorate had actually taken part. ₅₁

Despite these attempts at invalidation, the Estonian government relented and agreed to meet with the referendum organizers; thus Mayors Chuikin and Maksimenko convened with Prime Minister Mart Laar. ₅₂   Both sides agreed that holding local elections in which Russian residents would participate (even if they were not citizens) was the best solution to the crisis. ₅₃   Laar himself admitted that the government had not adequately dealt with the problems in the northeastern part of the country and vowed to cooperate with “constructive forces in the city councils [of Narva and Sillimae].” ₅₄

In October 1993, Estonia held its first post-Soviet local election, and for the first time since independence, substantial numbers of non-Estonians were able to vote. Although only citizens could be candidates, all permanent residents aged eighteen and older who had resided in the locality for five years were permitted to vote. The elections had two important effects on interethnic relations in Estonia. First, the parties in the ruling nationalist coalition fared very poorly in the local elections, especially in the larger cities. Second, the Russophone parties fared quite well. In Tallinn, the Russian Democratic Movement, which had moderated its position following the July referendum and had joined in an electoral alliance with the moderate Russian Representative Assembly, did particularly well. The assembly had campaigned on the platform that the best means to avoid ethnic tensions and conflicts among groups and the “formation [of] a closed society in Estonia with all of the negative consequences” was the extension of citizenship to as many Russian speakers as possible, as quickly as possible. ₅₅   The assembly also promoted Estonian citizenship and stressed the importance of learning Estonian, adding that too many foreign citizens in Estonia constituted a threat. ₅₆   Following the elections, the assembly formally established a political party, the Russian Party of Estonia.

Together, the Russophone moderates did quite well. The Russian Social Democratic Movement won seventeen of the sixty-four available seats, whereas the more radical group called Revel (the clear ideological descendant of Intermovement) won ten seats, with the remaining seats going to independents, most of whom were associated with the Russian Representative Assembly. The victory of the moderates was an encouraging sign. As Toivo Raun has noted, “these elections will prove to be a major step on the road to integrating those Russians and other non-Estonians who have made their peace with an independent Estonia.” ₅₇   Indeed, the victory of the moderates in the local elections in October, coupled with the low turnout (25 percent) among Russian citizens in Estonia for the December 1993 Russian parliamentary elections, was an encouraging sign that the majority of Russian speakers were rejecting radical solutions (although 48 percent of those who voted did so for Vladimir Zhirinovsky’s Liberal Democratic Party). Nonetheless, the organizational presence of nationalist Russian organizations in Estonia was minimal, and cross-border ties between Russian speakers in Estonia and radical nationalist organizations in Russia were tenuous at best. ₅₈

Most encouraging of all, at least when looking at the likelihood of a complete bifurcation of politics along ethnic lines, was the formation and performance of the moderate Our Home Is Estonia electoral coalition. As mentioned earlier, the coalition was launched prior to the March 1995 election as an alliance of Russophone parties that included the Estonian United Peoples Party, the Russian Party of Estonia, and the Russian People’s Party of Estonia; the Russian Democratic Movement declined to join the coalition. The movement continued to oppose the 1993 Estonian Law on Foreigners but expressed a willingness to cooperate with the Estonian parties in the new Center-Left coalition. Among the Russian speakers in Estonia, there appeared to be broad support for the moderate line put forward by the coalition. ₅₉   Following the election, the alliance formed a parliamentary group called the Russian Faction (led by Viktor Andreev, Sergei Kuznetsov, and Aleksei Semenov). The Russian Party of Estonia later absorbed the Russian People’s Party in 1996 and remained the leading member in Our Home Is Estonia. ₆₀

 

Russophone Parties in Latvia

When comparing the development and behavior of the Estonian Russian-speaking parties with those in Latvia, it is apparent that efforts to organize the Russian-speaking community in Latvia were far less successful than in Estonia. Most of these efforts focused on the creation of loosely structured nonpolitical economic or cultural associations, as opposed to explicitly political movements. As early as 1988, the Baltic-Slavic Society of Cultural Cooperation was founded, uniting Russian Byelorussian and Ukrainian cultural centers. Subsequently, these groups initiated the Russian Community of Latvia Organization in the fall of 1991, and soon it established a private technical university. Following the abortive coup and the declaration of Latvian independence, the Economic Association of Russian Citizens of Latvia was also established, consisting of descendants of Russians who were citizens of the interwar Latvian state. The primary goal of the association was to regain property owned by Russian-Latvian citizens before the annexation by the USSR, although the association had a political purpose as well. According to the organization’s chairman, Vladimir Sorochin, the association represented the interests of those Russian speakers who were repulsed by the antics of Interfront, and he proclaimed his group’s special loyalty to an independent Republic of Latvia. ₆₁   Although a party of Russian speakers had run in the 1995 parliamentary election, the party failed to surpass the electoral threshold and did not make any significant inroads into Latvian politics.

Since independence, as in Estonia, the Russian-speaking community’s initial support for independence has soured, particularly concerning the government’s 1993–1994 actions regarding citizenship, the denial of political representation, and the coming to power of a nationalist right-wing coalition in 1995. Further, many Russian speakers felt that they had nowhere else to go: They and their children were born in Latvia, and there were few economic opportunities awaiting them in Russia. Taken together, these sentiments have led to a growing sense of frustration and anger within the Russian-speaking community vis-à-vis the independent Latvian government, which appears less and less sympathetic to the plight of “stateless” persons in Latvia, even those who were initially strong supporters of independence. This attitude was reflected by Katya Borschova, formerly a Latvian Russian journalist for the Popular Front of Latvia’s Russian-language newspaper.

We feel under constant pressure because of the continual barrage in the Latvian press... ; the constant talk of “colonists,” “aliens,” “fifth columnists,” “illegal immigrants”; the constant stress on a Latvian Latvia; the exaltation of everything Latvian; the denigration of everything Russian. This is especially irritating when it comes from individuals who only a year ago were stressing that this was not a national struggle. Russians here are now saying to us, “[Y]ou see Interfront was right after all... and you deceived us.” Among Russian intellectuals there is a tendency to look down on the Latvians as “little children pretending to be [a] nation.” But yes, a certain mood of hatred for the Latvians is also growing because of the pressure, even among Russians who are ashamed of this feeling. ₆₂

Despite the growing sense of frustration over the Russian-speaking community’s plight in Latvia, the level of political organization within the community remains very low, particularly when compared to the level of organization in Estonia. To a large extent, the only political parties that have purported to represent the Latvian Russian population since independence have been Harmony for Latvia and the Latvian Socialist Party (formerly the Equal Rights Movement). However, neither party regards itself as representative of the Russophones exclusively, though each has made dialogue and reconciliation among groups one of its main goals. Although there have been some efforts to form political organizations to represent the Latvian Russophone community—such as the founding of the League of Apatrides in Latvia in January 1994, which claims to represent about 40,000 Russophone noncitizens, and the Russian Citizens of Latvia Party, which contested the 1995 parliamentary election—these efforts have been relatively unsuccessful in either mobilizing the Russophone population or securing representation in the Saeima. Moreover, these efforts have met stiff resistance from the Latvian right, which has been unwilling to recognize Russophone representatives as legitimate negotiating partners. ₆₃

Two explanations for the lack of Russophone political mobilization in Latvia as compared to that in Estonia stand out. Juris Dreifelds contends that because the Russian-speaking community in Latvia represents a “mass society” with few linkages between the primary family and friendship levels with the power elites, there is very little in the way of community solidarity and only a vestigial ethnic consciousness among the various groups, whose main links are those of Russian language and Soviet culture. Moreover, there are only a very few non-Latvian representatives in the political and bureaucratic elites. The economic elites, on the other hand, many members of which have arisen from the Russian-speaking milieu, have not yet fully taken on the mantle of intermediaries for local ethnic groups. For Dreifelds, this isolation represents a dangerous situation: The paucity of intermediary groups and representation “inevitably heightens alienation, discontent and a sense of unfair treatment by Latvian authorities, and could presage the availability of this population to populist mobilization or more critically outside interference and agitation.” ₆₄

Another explanation relates to the legacy of the immediate preindependence period. Prior to independence, the major organizations that claimed to represent the interests of the Russian-speaking population (Interfront and the CPL) had relied upon ties to Moscow rather than a popular mandate for power. Further, the organizational successor to the CPL, the Latvian Socialist Party, which claims to represent the “internationalist” population in Latvia and be the self-annointed guardian of the Russian-speaking population, has made it difficult for political replacements to emerge. In contrast, in Estonia, the pro-Moscow forces had been considerably weakened within the CPE prior to independence, leaving open the possibility for political replacements to the Communist Party to emerge. ₆₅

Whatever the case, the potential for future difficulties in interethnic relations is far greater in Latvia than in Estonia, especially if Latvian nationalist forces, bolstered by their political success in 1995, begin to target “foreign speculators,” Russophone professionals ignorant of the Latvian language, and unemployed industrial workers. As Anatol Lieven notes, since there is a higher proportion of educated Russians in Latvia than in Estonia who have become the driving force in business and technology, in the future it is likely that “Russian resistance in Latvia would be more formidable than in Estonia, not simply because they are more numerous, but because they would be better and more articulately led.” ₆₆

 

Discussion and Conclusion

The evolution of the Russophone parties in Estonia and Latvia since independence represents patterns of development that are different from either those exemplified by the MRF in Bulgaria or those of the Hungarian parties in Slovakia. Despite similarities to the cases of Bulgaria and Slovakia in terms of the presence of an ethnic kin state that has taken an active interest in the Russophone population, the legacy of the previous multiethnic empire, the territorial compactness of the Russophone population, and the economic hardships suffered by the minority population following independence (although this is more pronounced in Estonia than in Latvia), there are significant differences as well. First, unlike in either Bulgaria or Slovakia, where the minority population has been a long-standing and continuous community within these states, in Estonia and Latvia, the Russophone population is made up of relatively recent arrivals to the Baltics. Moreover, whereas the multiethnic Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian Empires had ended in Bulgaria and Slovakia long before the democratic transition, the demise of the multiethnic empire coincided with the democratic transition in the Baltic states. This has meant that the Russophones in the Baltics, unlike the Turkish population in Bulgaria and the Hungarian minority in Slovakia, lack a clear and fully developed identity as a community, beyond some lingering attachment to symbols of the Soviet past. Thus, on the whole, the Russophone parties in Estonia and Latvia are less developed than both Bulgaria’s MRF and Slovakia’s Hungarian parties.

Estonia and Latvia differ from each other as well. In Estonia, the level of ethnopolitical party development has been far higher than in Latvia, despite similarly high levels of discontent on the part of Russophones with the activities of their respective governments regarding language and citizenship issues. To a large extent, this differential level of development is due to different experiences regarding the evolution of transitional politics prior to independence, marked by the emergence of a partially articulated party system prior to independence in Estonia and the lack of one in Latvia.

Moreover, the Russophone political parties have generally been more aggressive in Estonia than in Latvia in making demands for political autonomy for regions where Russophones comprise a majority of the population (particularly around Narva and Sillimae), most evidenced when the local government sponsored a referendum on political autonomy in 1993. In Latvia, though, Russophones have thus far been content with focusing on the defense of language, educational, and cultural rights without seeking fundamental restructuring of the postindependence political system.

However, the potential for more radical demands on the part of Russophones is probably far greater in Latvia than in Estonia. This is because Russophones in Estonia have not only gained representation (and hence a voice) in post-Soviet Estonian politics, especially after the 1993 local and 1995 parliamentary elections, but also because the parties that represent the most moderate elements there have emerged to become the political voice of the Russophone population. In contrast, Latvian Russophones remain essentially excluded from the political process—they have neither an independent voice nor moderate political parties that can channel demands into constructive directions. Furthermore, whereas the Estonian nationalists, who had pushed for the most onerous legislation on language and citizenship (at least from the perspective of the Russophone population), suffered a political setback in the parliamentary election in 1995, the Latvian nationalists made significant gains in 1994. Thus the Russophone parties in Latvia have little recourse other than to continue to rely on other organizations to defend the interests of the Russophone community or, more ominously, to increasingly depend on the intervention of Moscow to promote their interests in postindependence Latvian politics. Although the leadership of the Russophone population in Latvia does not appear to be currently inclined toward making demands for the fundamental restructuring of the Latvian state, this is due to the fact that the Russophone population has yet to develop its consciousness as a distinct group and the organizations to articulate its growing dissatisfaction with the present regime.

 

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Endnotes

Note 1: We use the term “Russophone” here rather than “Russian” because the populations in the newly independent states are made up of not only ethnic Russian, but Byelorussians, Ukrainians, Armenians, and so forth. Back.

Note 2: von Rauch, The Baltic States; Misiunas and Taagepera, The Baltic States, 2–3. Back.

Note 3: Raun, Estonia and the Estonians; Haltzel, “The Baltic Germans,” 111–120. Back.

Note 4: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 183. Back.

Note 5: Zvidrins, “Changes in the Ethnic Composition in Latvia,” 359–368. Back.

Note 6: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 66. Back.

Note 7: Kirch, Kirch, and Tuisk, “Russians in the Baltic States,” 173–179.  Back.

Note 8: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 178; Aasland, “The Russian Population in Latvia,” 240–250. Back.

Note 9: Shafir, Immigrants and Nationalists, 193–202. Back.

Note 10: On the origins of Intermovement, see Moscow News, April 8–15, 1990, 11. Kogan was injured in an auto accident shortly before the Congress of Peoples’ Deputies elections in June 1989, and his physical plight apparently aroused much sympathy among voters. Indeed, Kogan claimed that this greatly affected his political style and that he “learned and appreciated the value of scathing words... that wrench tears of sympathy from kind hearts.” Back.

Note 11: Statement on Intermovement by Vanio Valyas reported in Sovetskaya Estoniya, May 5, 1989, 1. Back.

Note 12: Moscow News, September 3–10, 1989, 9. Back.

Note 13: London Financial Times, August 17, 1989, 2  Back.

Note 14: Dreifelds, “Latvian National Rebirth,” 77–94. Back.

Note 15: Moscow Domestic Service, September 18, 1989, in Foreign Broadcast Information Service–Soviet Union (Central Eurasia) (hereafter referred to as FBIS-SOV), September 18, 1989, 61.  Back.

Note 16: This resolution brought Latvia in line with similar declarations by the Supreme Soviets of Estonia and Lithuania on November 12 and 23, 1989. See Bungs, “A Further Step Towards Latvian Independence,” 25. Back.

Note 17: Quoted by Riga Domestic Service, February 15, 1990, in FBIS-SOV, February 20, 1990, 94. Back.

Note 18: TASS (Moscow news agency), March 23, 1990, in FBIS-SOV, March 26, 1990, 131. Back.

Note 19: Bungs, “Latvian Communist Party Splits,” 19. Back.

Note 20: Ishiyama, “Founding Elections and the Development of Transitional Parties,” 277–299. Back.

Note 21: See report by Ivars Kezbers, first secretary of the Independent CPL, in Vilnius Domestic Service, June 28, 1990, in FBIS-SOV, July 6, 1990, 45. Back.

Note 22: Tallinn Domestic Service, March 29, 1990, in FBIS-SOV, March 30, 1990, 92–93. Back.

Note 23: TASS, December 14, 1990, in FBIS-SOV, December 16, 1990, 91. Back.

Note 24: See speech by Lembit Annus, first secretary of CPE-CPSU program, reported in MAYAK (Russia private news agency), April 28, 1991, in FBIS-SOV, April 29, 1991, 41. Back.

Note 25: Ishiyama, “Founding Elections and the Development of Transitional Parties,” 292–293. Back.

Note 26: Bungs, “People’s Front of Latvia”; Bungs, “A Further Step Towards Latvian Independence”; Kionka, “Identity Crisis in Estonian Popular Front.”  Back.

Note 27: Kirch, Kirch, and Tuisk, “Russians in the Baltic States,” 175; Rose and Maley, Nationalities in the Baltic States. Back.

Note 28: King, Barnowe, and Bankovskaya, “Complementary and Conflicting Personal Values,” 255–260. Back.

Note 29: Vabariigi Presidendi Ja Riigkogu Valimised 1992. Back.

Note 30: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 310; Kionka, “‘Alternative’ Plebiscite in Estonia,” 26.  Back.

Note 31: Brass, Ethnicity and Nationalism, 340. Back.

Note 32: Dreifelds, Latvia in Transition, 97–98; Karklins, Ethnopolitics, 145–151. Back.

Note 33: Latvia Human Development Report, chap. 2. Back.

Note 34: See Girnius, “The Baltic States,” 5–6. Back.

Note 35: Rosimannus, “Political Parties and Identification,” 29. Back.

Note 36: Estonia Today, July 18, 1996, 1. Back.

Note 37: G. Smith, Aasland, and Mole, “Statehood, Ethnic Relations, and Citizenship,” 194–197. Back.

Note 38: Rose and Maley, Nationalities in the Baltic States.  Back.

Note 39: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 309. Back.

Note 40: ITAR TASS (Russian news agency), January 17, 1993, in FBIS-SOV, January 19, 1993, 88–89. Back.

Note 41: FBIS-SOV, March 8, 1993, 80. Back.

Note 42: FBIS-SOV, February 17, 1993, 79. Back.

Note 43: FBIS-SOV, March 8, 1993, 80. Back.

Note 44: Baltic News Service (hereafter referred to as BNS), February 4, 1993, 44. Back.

Note 45: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 189–193. Back.

Note 46: FBIS-SOV, July 7, 1993, 63. Back.

Note 47: Izvestiya, July 13, 1993, 2. Back.

Note 48: Izvestiya, July 20, 1993, 1–2. Back.

Note 49: FBIS-SOV, July 21, 1993, 66. Back.

Note 50: Rahvaa Haal, Paevaleht, July 20, 1993, 1 and 3, in FBIS-SOV, July 21, 1993, 66. See also comments by Prime Minister Mart Laar in FBIS-SOV, July 21, 1993, 66–67, and ITAR TASS, July 23, 1993, in FBIS-SOV, July 23, 1993, 78. Back.

Note 51: Pravda (Moscow), July 24, 1993, 2; Izvestiya, July 20, 1993, 1–2.  Back.

Note 52: ITAR TASS, July 23, 1993, in FBIS-SOV, July 26, 1993, 87. Back.

Note 53: FBIS-SOV, July 26, 1993, 88. Back.

Note 54: ITAR TASS, July 23, 1993, in FBIS-SOV, July 23, 1993, 78. Back.

Note 55: Semenov, “The Formation of a Legal State,” 241. Back.

Note 56: Estonian Telegraphic Agency, October 9, 1993, in FBIS-SOV, October 23, 1993, 98. Back.

Note 57: Raun, “Post-Soviet Estonia,” 74–75. Back.

Note 58: BNS, January 22, 1994. Back.

Note 59: Norgaard et al., The Baltic States After Independence, 207–208. Back.

Note 60: VM Info, February 22, 1995. Back.

Note 61: Karklins, Ethnopolitics, 80–81. Back.

Note 62: Quoted in Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 308. Back.

Note 63: Norgaard et al., The Baltic States After Independence, 209–211. Back.

Note 64: Dreifelds, Latvia in Transition, 101. Back.

Note 65: Metcalf, “Outbidding to Radical Nationalists,” 213–234. Back.

Note 66: Lieven, The Baltic Revolution, 188. Back.

Ethnopolitics in the New Europe