Russians have had acute difficulties in coming to terms with their status as minorities in the unwelcoming—sometimes openly hostile—successor states of the Soviet Union. This situation has been extremely difficult in the Baltic Republics of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. Among the majority populations of these small states, deeply resonant historical memory associated with the loss of independence in the 1940s colors the daily relations with the Russian minority. Additionally, the significant influx of non-titulars after World War II remains controversial and further complicates interactions between the indigenous populations and national minorities.

Today, ethnic Russians are scrambling to retain a position of equality in lands where Russian hegemony had once been an indisputable fact. Severed mentally, politically, and geographically from their homeland, these “new” immigrants have had to rethink what it means to be part of a diaspora community and to mentally place themselves within that conceptual space. This process has been easier for the younger generation of ethnic Russians who have chosen to pursue assimilationist (or more accurately accommodationist) strategies such as learning the titular language, embracing cultural symbols of the new state, taking loyalty oaths, etc.. However, older generations and disaffected subsets of Russian youth have not adjusted as well. Many have chosen exit (emigration) and voice (protest) to show their disapproval of their states’ nationalizing policies and/or their inability to cope with new challenges that accompany their newly bestowed minority status. There is also a third manifestation—a deterritorialized, globalist clique who readily embrace the increasing flows of goods, technology, ideas, and people across borders. These Russians use globalization as a tool to cope with the negative effects of their state’s restrictive social, economic, and cultural policies which might otherwise turn them toward radical nationalism.

The following article is based on interviews conducted among the Russian populations of Riga and Daugavpils in the immediate aftermath of Latvia’s accession to the European Union (EU). It seeks to explore the divergent identities emerging among ethnic Russians in Latvia and offers recommendations on how Riga, Moscow, and Brussels should respond to these changes.

THE POLITICS OF IDENTITY IN POST-INDEPENDENCE LATVIA

There has been a spectrum of responses to the presence of Russians in the Newly Independent States of Eurasia – from polite disinterest to seething animosity. In the Baltics – Estonia and Latvia in particular – nationalizing states disenfranchised a large number of Russians and other non-indigenous nationalities. In order to meet the stringent citizenship requirements, Russians and other non-titulars had to meet historical residency requirements (typically requiring an individual or his or her forebears to have been living in the state prior to Soviet annexation in 1940), prove language proficiency, make loyalty oaths, and satisfy other benchmarks. Many have been unable or unwilling to meet these metrics (which are not required of titulars). In the case of Estonia, the Law on Aliens (1993) went beyond simple disenfranchisement and implied that Russians and other non-citizens (Jews, Ukrainians, Tatars, et al.) may be subject to expulsion in the future.

As a result of this denial of citizenship, the Russian community complains of loss of jobs (e.g., pharmacists, lawyers, firemen, doctors, policemen and elected politicians are no longer careers open to non-citizens regardless of talent or experience), complications traveling abroad, attempts at forcible assimilation and other calculated policies intended to provoke people into emigrating. Thus many Russians, who form majorities in many areas of these states (upwards of 95 percent in some localities), are now stateless people without the ability to vote for their leaders or run for office, and whose guarantee of basic human rights within their state of residence remain tenuous. Latvia and Estonia defend the actions taken against their minority communities as an appropriate response to illegal migration conducted under the aegis of the occupying Soviet Army. In addition to the juridical problems, Russians (citizens and non-citizens alike) must deal with the growing enmity of their titular neighbors who increasingly brand all Russians (Old Believers, pre-1940 Russians, and newcomer Russophones) as aliens and occupiers.

RUSSIA AND HER MAROONED COUNTRYMEN

While Moscow is most concerned with strong ties to its Baltic countrymen, Russia has not ignored its other co-nationals in the near abroad. The Russian Federation’s initial approach to Russians (and Russophones) living in the Newly Independent States was rather ambiguous. Rather than granting automatic citizenship to all 25 million ethnic Russians and possibly creating a massive immigration dilemma, or announcing that Russians would be forbidden to return, the Federation instead opted for a middle path allowing all former Soviet citizens who felt ethnically or emotionally attached to Russia to apply for Russian citizenship. Consequently, international law allows a state the right to protect its citizens abroad, and Russian authorities have on numerous occasions insisted that they will defend the rights of the near abroad Russians.

Ultimately, this ambiguous approach to citizenship vis-à-vis the near abroad Russians opened the door for Russia to become increasingly involved in the domestic politics of its post-Soviet neighbors in order to advance its own national interest. The Baltics have been the focal point of much of Russia’s posturing over the issue of its external countrymen. Perhaps this is due to the high level of integration the Baltics have pursued with Europe since independence combined with clear signals that Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania wish to distance themselves from Russia (none joined the Russian-dominated Commonwealth of Independent States though all three quickly initiated talks to join the EU and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization after independence). Lacking tools like the CIS, the Kremlin has used the diasporic issue as a platform to influence the policies of Tallinn, Riga, and Vilnius.

The Baltics’ traditional role as a window on the West for Russia has made the management of the post-Soviet relations with Moscow of particular interest. One of my respondents felt that the Russian Federation took special care in maintaining relationships with the “Baltic Russians” (of which she counted herself as one) as a way to buttress Russia’s interests in the region. The reasons for doing so are threefold: the first is related to the transnational nature of Russians living in the Baltic States; their strong and sustained contacts with Western businesses, politicians, and non-governmental organizations are clear assets to the Russian Federation. The second reason is the fact that a substantial number of Russians are now European Union citizens (and an increasing number is expected to join this group in the future), thus giving Russia more leverage in dealing with Brussels. And, thirdly, the frequent movement of Russians back and forth between the Baltic States (especially Latvia) and Russia is helpful for Russia to maintain economic and social influence in the region.

Until quite recently, Moscow had been rewarding Latvian Russians who chose not to pursue citizenship in their state of residence. For non-citizens, the costs of visas for travel to the Russian Federation were quite low and required one simple fee for multiple entries. Latvian citizens – regardless of their ethnic affiliation – paid a higher fee and were unable to take advantage of the single fee, multiple-entry option. This division between citizens and non-citizens functioned as a symbolic reward for ethnic Russians who assumed a “middle ground” approach to state loyalty; by not becoming Latvian citizens, they were in effect declaring their status as “post-Soviet citizens” and were entitled to a set of benefits therein. The Russian Federation recently altered the two-tiered system and now employs the same regime for citizens and non-citizens alike, thus tacitly encouraging an increase in applications for citizenship among the Russian population of Latvia.

Evidently, Moscow has decided that EU Russians are better than Russian “non-citizens” for its purposes. Perhaps the Kremlin hopes that ethno-linguistic affinities and the sticky bonds of “Russian” culture are strong enough to ensure an enduring relationship between the Russian state and its countrymen abroad. However, my research suggests a rupture in Baltic Russian identity—while Baltic Russians continue to believe there is a “connectedness” between them and Russian Russians, there is less agreement on “commonality” as these two groups see their historical paths diverge. Only time will tell if this rupture will grow larger or reverse itself.

LATVIAN RUSSIANS AND THE “BRUSSELS FACTOR”

Within Latvia, ethnic Russian opinion on the European Union and Latvia’s place within it is at best ambiguous. In fact, the majority of Russians opposed Latvia’s membership prior to EU accession. Russians, while recognizing the benefits of accession (increased mobility, more occupational opportunities, greater economic stability, etc.), tend to regard Brussels as unforgivably blind to their treatment by the Latvian authorities. Ostensibly, the European Union is charged with ensuring that its aspiring and current members respect their minority populations; however, Estonia and Latvia have not been subject to the same sort of rigor that other states are governed by when it comes to nationality policy. In fact, both countries deprived large percentages of their residents of citizenship upon independence creating the category “non-citizen” to refer to these stateless peoples. In doing so, these ethno-nationalist democracies complicated relations with their eastern neighbor Russia, the European Union, and other states. Subsequent policies related to the Russophone minorities have done little to improve the situation.

Latvia, which has the highest percentage of non-titulars in the Baltics, and likewise the greatest number of “non-citizens” (500,000 out of a population of 2.3 million) residing on its soil, has drawn the most attention as of late. On the day of EU accession (1 May 2004), Russians took to the streets of Riga in substantial numbers to protest Latvia’s anti-Russian language and education policies which they felt were being sanctioned by Brussels. In a moment of post-modern ecstasy, the Russians demonstrated their keen knowledge of Western culture by chanting refrains from the British rock band Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” which includes the chorus “We don’t need no education.” The protestors were reacting to Latvia’s proposed “school reform;” the policy limits Russian as the medium of instruction in schools to 40 percent of the time as of the 2004-2005 school year. While conducting my research in summer of 2004 in Riga and Daugavpils, I found “education reform” to be the most salient issue in the minds of Latvia’s Russian and Russophone population. The roughshod “Latvianization” of the education system has even drawn the ire of the High Commissioner for Human Rights of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), Rolf Ekeus, who called the policy “devoid of sense” as it currently stands. Despite the criticism of the policy at home and abroad, Riga has stuck to its guns.

There is a pervasive sense among Latvia’s ethnic Russians that the “West” pursues a blatantly hypocritical set of policies in post-Soviet space. There is the perception that both Washington and Brussels employ a double standard on nationality issues, applying one set of rules to Russia and another to the Baltic States. The U.S.A.’s recent demand that the Kremlin recognize that “protection of minorities were central and universal attributes of democracy” while tacitly backing the Balts in their coercive policies toward Russophones is a case in point. Recent high-level discussions between the Russian Federation and the European Union have also been complicated over what Russia sees as prejudiced application of minority rights on the Continent. In late February 2005, the Putin administration responded to Brussels’ criticism of its human rights record in Chechnya with calls for better treatment of its co-nationals in the Baltics. These diplomatic volleys are carefully monitored by Russians living in the Baltic States.

Despite the rancor, the Russian Federation and Latvian Russians both recognize the importance of EU membership as a mechanism for managing Latvia’s treatment of its minorities going forward. Latvia’s recent municipal elections, in which hundreds of thousands among the country’s minorities were not allowed to participate, drew to the surface the failure of EU membership to fix lingering inequities. Riga’s decision to bar some 450,000 of its own residents, most of them Russians who settled there during Soviet times, from taking part in local elections triggered howls from Moscow especially when it

was made known that Latvia allowed some 4,000 foreigners from other EU countries to vote.

Activists in Latvia were just as unhappy; outraged protestors carried placards bearing the slogan “Latvia shames Europe.” In an effort to support the rights of its countrymen abroad, the Kremlin recently made a formal recommendation that Estonia and Latvia (which constantly affirm their Balto-Scandinavian identity) should adopt Finland’s policies toward enfranchisement; such a policy would allow all residents to vote in municipal elections. Latvia’s continued – some would say worsening – recalcitrance to adhere to commonly-held European notions about the treatment of minorities is starting to wear away at Brussels patience. According to an 11 March 2005 Wall Street Journal article, some European Union officials, while reluctant to publicly criticize a member state, say Latvia’s own policies may be to blame [for worsening relations in the region]. These officials are increasingly worried that discrimination against Russian speakers here could turn into a flashpoint in relations between Moscow and the West, as well as undermine Europe’s claim to be a standard-bearer of democratic values… Similar concerns are voiced by Alvaro Gil-Robles, human-rights commissioner for the Council of Europe, a body that includes all EU members and candidates and that promotes democracy on the continent. “This is no longer just an issue of Latvia dealing with its minority, it’s an issue of the entire European Union,” says Mr. Gil-Robles.

While the EU seems to have given the Latvians and Estonians a “pass” on their un-European behavior prior to admission, it now seems that the EU is being forced to deal with their new members’ problems rather than treating them as justifiable reaction to the “illegal annexation” of 1940.

MANKURTS, IRREDENTISTY, AND BALTO-GLOBALS

Dr. Valters S˘c˘erbinskis, a professor of political science at Riga Stradins˘ University, told me prior to my field research that “There are two worlds in Latvia,” obliquely referring to the mutually exclusive spheres of the Russians on the one hand and the Latvians on the other. Despite Dr. S˘c˘erbinskis’ stark and rather pessimistic view of the social divide in Latvia, it is clear that many ethnic Russians are traversing the boundary between those two worlds. In my own research, I discovered there are at least three “worlds” in Latvia:

Ethnic Latvians who have no limits on their mobility or choice of occupation;

“Latvianized” Russians (or Russophones) who enjoy citizenship and official access to state jobs, but are confronted with informal barriers to certain careers and occasionally suffer from slights by ethnic Latvian counterparts in their daily lives;

Non-citizen Russians (or Russophones) who are explicitly barred from state jobs, are disenfranchised, face bureaucratic nightmares when traveling or seeking state aid, and who are regularly treated with disrespect by ethnic Latvians in their daily lives.

To gain access to the first category, one tends to need a Latvian surname, have parents who both speak fluent Latvian, and can trace his or her roots to the Latvian nation either in the country or through the diaspora (Latvia’s current president is in fact a remigrant from Canada).

The second category is increasingly common in Riga (though less so in Daugavpils, Latvia’s second city). These individuals speak fluent Latvian and use it in their daily lives. Most are in jobs where they come in contact with a large number of Latvians on a daily basis. These persons also tend to include a number of ethnic Latvians among their friends and close acquaintances. These individuals are still emotionally bound to the Russian nation but typically not the Russian state. They may have some positive impressions of the pre-1991 system and the Soviet Union, but tend to be forward looking and are strongly supportive of further European integration – something which they feel will further their own integration into Latvian society. They generally hope to be able to eventually identify themselves with the Latvian state in what is reminiscent of British or French “civic nationalism,” although there is the feeling that Latvia’s current leadership are working against this goal. Such pessimism has predictably worsened in the wake of president Vaira Vike-Freiberga’s incendiary comments on the eve of Moscow’s V-E Day celebrations in the summer of 2005 in which she criticized the habits of veterans of the Great Patriotic War, referred to the Salaspils camp in Latvia where the Nazis carried out medical experiments on children and 90,000 people were killed as simply a “corrective labor camp,” and accused the Russian Federation of presenting a false view of history regarding World War II.

Many Sovietologists (reformed and otherwise) have failed to take into account the importance of class in formulations of identity among the Baltic Russians. Time and again, my own research showed that upwardly mobile, Latvian-speaking Russians treat their nationality with almost a sense of historical coincidence – much like an Irish- or Italian-American might. For them, Russia represents little more than a repository of history and/or a place where one has familial relations – similar to the way a second generation American might feel about the “old country.” This is in stark opposition to those Russians whose opportunities within the new Latvian state are limited by education, age, language, or other factors who cling to their “Russianness” like a raft in the storm.

The last category strongly identifies with the Russian state. Such individuals tend to see the Russian Federation as the natural successor to the Soviet Union which provided them with greater rights and unfettered access to public life. This group tends to romanticize the situation for the “average Russian” in the Russian Federation and draws distinct contrasts between the ways that the Latvian government treats its own “Russians.” In speaking with members of this third category, it is clear that rapid privatization that has occurred in Latvia since 1991 is being conflated with their increasing marginalization in society under the current government. Such notions predictably result in strong anti-Latvian, anti-EU, and anti-American positions.

In addition to the two Russian archetypes discussed above, there is a third category of Latvian Russians: the globalists. These Russians, whom I found to be quite common among the well-heeled elites of Riga, are Web-savvy, English and Latvian-speaking, globe trekkers, with personal, familial, and business contacts in the Russian Federation, Western Europe (particularly Germany), and the U.S. These globalist Russians have a patently deterritorialized view of their identities, unlike either their ethnic counterparts among the Latvianized assimilationists or the Soviet nostalgics. While they recognize the institutional barriers to the personal advancement within Latvia’s public sector, this is not a pervasive concern. With EU membership, the relocation of multinational corporations to Latvia, growing Russian Gastarbeiter communities in Western Europe, and increasing opportunities for employment and educational opportunities abroad, these Russians are developing novel approaches to personal advancement. Their identities are also coming along for the ride.

The changing nature of the global economy is opening doors for these globalist Russians as fast as the nationalizing state of Latvia can close them. Through a combination of EU-enabled mobility (occupational, social, and actual) and robust, evolving Internet-based networks across Europe and the former Soviet Union, these globalized Russians can now confront, contest, and usurp the constraints put on them by Latvia without relying on the intervention of Moscow. This is done by placing oneself in a global rather than a state- or ethnic-based social space. By using the term “global” here I do not mean to imply that ethnic Russians feel as bonded to Ouagadougou as they do to Omsk, but instead I suggest that the mental mobility enabled by cyberspace and “Europeanness” allows these Russians to conceive of denationalized personal trajectories which are not constrained by their minority status within Latvia.

WHAT IS TO BE DONE?

Despite the marginalization that many Russians have experienced in Latvia, the country’s vibrant information economy, enhanced mobility enabled by EU membership, and widespread knowledge of the global lingua franca of English have enabled the new elites among the marooned Russian diaspora to sidestep political radicalization. My research suggests that those elements of society, which would naturally take up the banner of irredentism, have opted instead for other, more individualistic pursuits. Widespread denationalization—a rejection of the nation-state as the basic building block of economic, political, and social interactions—ensures that Russian elites pose no danger to the Latvian state in the foreseeable future (thus differentiating the near abroad Russians from the interwar Germans of Eastern Europe). And as history demonstrates, the hopes and wants of the masses are meaningless without a dedicated elite to shape and project the power of collective will.

Latvia should recognize this fact and cater its policies to support further integration of its Russian community into the global village. Convincing the Latvian Russians that globalization can aid their personal development much better than irredentism debases the ability of Russia (or, more appropriately, nationalist elites within Russia) to manipulate the offshore Russians for their own purposes. The benefit/risk ratio of actions taken by offshore Russians clearly favors global integration over revanchism. The short-term, concrete personal gains enabled by the Web, EU membership, and familiarity with global norms are certainly more attractive and entail less risk than long-term, nebulous national gains promised by jingoistic agitators in the Russian Federation. Riga would be wise to support greater Internet use, increased levels of English proficiency, and more foreign travel for its Russian minority. Such actions could prevent the development of a permanent underclass among the Russians and would undoubtedly aid Latvia’s economic development in the long term.

Russia should lessen its political focus on the diaspora and increase its economic connections with the near abroad Russians, especially those in Latvia. As Riga increases its profile as a regional hub for multinational corporations, the city’s Russophone community (which currently represents a majority) is an exceptional asset to Moscow. Just as Beijing has learned to reach out to the hua qiao (overseas Chinese) in San Francisco, Kuala Lumpur, and Sydney, so should Russia do likewise with its beached countrymen in the Baltics, the Caucasus, and Central Asia. Lastly, the Kremlin should avoid actions which either its diaspora or the Newly Independent States could deem “meddling,” since such behavior jeopardizes its countrymen’s fragile political position, and will thus weaken Russia’s interests as well.

Lastly, Latvia is in need of a strong dose of Vergangenheits-bewältigung; but without external pressure, such a “getting over the past” is unlikely to be realized. Brussels and the individual nation-states of the EU must make it clear that Latvia needs to harmonize its nationality policies with European norms immediately. The OSCE and other pan-European organizations can support the growing drumbeat in Brussels by calling for better treatment of non-Latvians. If Latvia’s European partners form a united front and make it clear that past grievances do not justify the country’s current anti-Russian policies, Riga is likely to change course on its treatment of its minorities (citizens and non-citizens alike). Germany – a country with a bit of experience dealing with the after-effects of vengeful nationality policies in Eastern Europe – should take the lead on this.