A Farewell to History

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That the 20^th century history is a divisive issue for the two major ethno-linguistic groups of Latvians[i] is a broadly shared assumption that can be largely true. This assumption, however, is often accompanied by three notions that are misleading. One such notion is that the disagreement over history is fundamental and fierce. The second notion is that a cohesive Latvian society and polity cannot be created unless the conflicting historical narrations and identities are replaced by a shared narration and identity. The third misleading notion is that policies aimed at promoting such shared narration and identity are likely to consolidate the Latvian society and citizenry.

First, to the disagreement over history.  How deep is it, actually? There is a mainstream narration of the 20^th century Latvian history that focuses strongly on a number of keystones.These keystones are hardly contested today: No one protests the legal and historical legitimacy of the 1918 republic, and even the most vehement detractors of the re-established republic of 1990-1991 seem now to have accepted it as a normal state of affairs. Neither is there much disagreement about the tragic effects of the June 1940 events.

The historical identities of ethnic Latvians and Russian-speaking Latvians diverge a lot, but on more specific issues. Two are particularly seen as symbols of the irreconcilability of the two historical narrations, but are not so on closer examination. One such issue is occupation. While the mainstream historiography and the majority of Latvians do not hesitate to qualify the June 1940 events as occupation, many Russian-speaking Latvians object. Still, even while protesting at the use of word occupation, they more often than not agree to the basic idea that Latvia’s destiny was decided by the neighbouring superpowers and its incorporation in the Soviet “family of nations” was a result of brutal power politics rather than of a free expression of popular will. In the related discussions over the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact one side sees the pact as the epitome of superpower predation, while the other seeks to explain the predation as part of the larger pre-war picture. Even the latter argument, though, is based on the acknowledgement of the existence of the Pact and of its effect on Latvia – a notable progress since twenty years ago. All in all, apart from some rather marginal views, what ethnic Latvians assert explicitly and enthusiastically, the Russian-speaking Latvians recognize tacitly and reluctantly.

Along with occupation, the notion of the Soviet victory in WWII has been a firebrand political issue. To most Russian-speaking Latvians, Victory Day is the climax of their historical pride that shines especially bright against the dark background of Soviet history. They see WWII as a moment when the Soviet / Russian people were subjects of history, not objects of domination by the Soviet regime. Ethnic Latvians, who tend to look at WWII from a national vantage point, see it as a series of alternating enslavements. >From their perspective, the idea of two equally evil regimes seems reasonable. As with the issue of occupation, this is not a matter of acknowledging basic historical facts, but of different historical perspectives. With a little generosity of mind, these can be if not fully reconciled, then at least made mutually intelligible.

There are numerous other history issues on which ethnic Latvians and Russian-speaking Latvians are variance with each other. The dominant Latvian history narration tends to stress ethnic Latvians’ particular suffering from and Russia’s (and Russians’) particular historical responsibility for the Soviet wrongdoings; it emphasizes the negative effects of Russification; it also promotes the idea of the Western-oriented historical destiny and the Western nature of the Latvian society. These elements are largely in agreement with the feelings and personal and family histories of many ethnic Latvians. The majority of Russian-speakers, based on their own feelings and personal histories, assert their innocence of the crimes of the Soviet regime and point to the economic development in the post-WWII Soviet period while they stress the complicity of a considerable number of Latvians in the crimes committed by the Nazis in WWII; unlike most ethnic Latvians, Russian-speakers like to emphasize Latvia’s close historical and cultural ties with the East, i.e. Russia. The whole idea of Latvian history is perceived very differently. Ethnic Latvians interpret it either as Volksgeschichte, i.e. history of ethnic Latvians or as Landsgeschichte, i.e. history of a European nation state. The Russian-speaking Latvians tend to put Latvian history in the context of Russian and Soviet history narrative. Ironically and sadly, both groups share the unwillingness to take a new perspective and focus on European, instead of national history.

For several reasons, these different historical narrations are not intractable. First, the difference is asymmetrical rather than clashing. The idea of 1940 occupation seems to be very relevant for the historical identity of ethnic Latvians. Yet even those Russian-speaking Latvians who are unsympathetic towards it do not see it as something important enough to resist it. Their own historical identity keystone is the WWII victory. Again, although this concept looks dubious to most Latvians if seen within the narrow national Latvian context, few Latvians consider it entirely illegitimate if seen through the prism of European history as well as the family history of many Russian-speakers. November 18, the day when an independent Latvian state was proclaimed in 1918, is a good indicator of the significant, yet less-than-absolute difference in perceptions. A recent study on Latvians’ attitudes towards national holidays shows that both ethno-linguistic groups understand the meaning of November 18, yet the perceptions differ. While November 18 as the National Day is important to 64 per cent of ethnic Latvians, it is only so for 35 per cent of the Russian-speaking Latvians (Zepa et al. 2008, 67-71). A difference of one-third is a gap, but not an unbridgeable one. It would indeed be wrong to trivialize Latvians’ differences over history. But to demonize these differences, as is often done, is not just inaccurate, but also harmful. The demonization of historical disagreements goes hand in hand with the demonization of the ”historical other” and has in itself become an ethnic estrangement device. 

Second, the identity models described above are pure, ideal-type models, while in the real life many Latvians will have a much more eclectic and individualized idea of “their” history – a natural situation for a society that is not only diverse, but also profoundly mixed and culturally interpenetrated. For this reason, when talking about historical identities and narrations, one should keep in mind the sociological landscape they are projected upon. Public discourses are not necessarily good predictors of the values and attitudes in the public opinion – of which we know little.

Third, most differences that stir emotions today are concerned with the relatively recent 20^th century history. While this brings in more painful personal memories, this also means that the historic “minefield” is limited. Considering other cases of ethnic division that are based on the fossilized narrations of “centuries long enmity”, the short-sightedness of the Latvian historical perspective is a blessing.

On the other hand, two factors contribute to make history the hot issue it is today. Most importantly, for the last twenty years, Latvian history has been tied to present day ethno-politics. History is used to legitimate ethno-linguistic identities. The whole construction of the Latvian polity is predicated on history and apportionment of historical blame – most famously, through the non-citizenship status of a large share of the Russian-speakers. Historical arguments are employed to legitimise or delegitimise all kinds of polices and policy demands – an area where ethnic Latvians and Russian-speakers do have diverging interests and attitudes. History has been invoked as a rationale for many decisions concerning cultural and linguistic diversity.

When Latvia ratified the of the Council of Europe Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities in May 2005, it applied a definition of national minority ‘which is quite narrow, includes the citizenship criterion and refuses the national minority status not only to non-citizens, but also to naturalized citizens,’ (LCHR 2006, 249) a clear demonstration that history makes difference when cultural rights are ‘apportioned’. In the legal arena, the Constitutional Court’s decision on the issue of the 2004 amendments to the Latvian Law on Education (the background for of the so-called Russian school reform), where a reference to the occupation of Latvia in 1940 opens the all-important conclusions part, is an example (LR Satversmes Tiesa 2005, 23-24). Linking multicultural policies to historical arguments is not unusual (and Latvians’ historical experiences are not as unique as some tend to believe), but in the Latvian case, is has been counterproductive.

History’s entanglement with politics has brought politicians and public opinion leaders to the fore as the most influential interpreters of the past. Political actors have been profiting from this device, but not the ethno-linguistic groups themselves, who have for twenty years lived under the influence of discourses of existential insecurity. The Russian-speaking Latvians’ slow and unwilling identity transition from a Soviet to a Latvian political identity has been matched by the ethnic Latvians’ reluctance to accept them as compatriots – both in legal and political terms. Within this framework, what is perceived as occupation denial on behalf of many Russian-speaking Latvians stems not so much from a principled refutation of this historical event as from a fear of being held culpable. A 2007 report describes this history trap well.  Focusing on the young generation’s entanglement with history, it acknowledges that even today Russian-speaking young people are associated with the political heritage of the Soviet occupation and held responsible for the events of the past. “Compared to older generations, the young people may have less difficulty in accepting a shift in the dominant interpretation of history. Still, they do not wish to take upon themselves the political heritage and the responsibility; not do they accept scornful labeling.” (Golubeva et al. 2007, 152).

In the contest of historical narratives, Russia is a significant third player. First, because it is a major and increasingly powerful source of Russian historical narratives. Second, because the Russia factor structures Latvian domestic political space, discourses and identities - the context within which historical narrations are shaped and transmitted. Rogers Brubaker's (Brubaker 1996) famous triangle (nation-state, minority and homeland) was employed by the nation-state (Latvia) and the minority in domestic politics long before the homeland (Russia) got aware of its instrumental value. Bracketing out the Russia factor is something both sides have been unable to do. Ethnic Latvians have had difficulty taking a healthy distance from Russia as the “significant other”, while many Russian-speaking Latvians have immersed themselves in the Russian media, information and cultural spaces while shutting themselves off from the respective Latvian spaces – a process helped a good deal by the exclusionist policies of the Latvian state. As a result, today the internal Latvian debate over history is entangled with the birth throes of Russia’s own nation-building. Eva-Clarita Onken (Onken 2007: 37) is right in suggesting that, in the Baltic-Russian relations, “history and memory have always had a primarily political meaning”. It seems that such political meaning is not limited to foreign policy, where history is relatively easy to manipulate as a political instrument. Latvia and Russia are mutually entangled with each others’ domestic politics of identity – a boggy area which is easier to get in than to get out and in which rationality and political responsibility are usually not the strongest of considerations.

Note that both the complicating factors – ethno-politics and Russia – do not originate from the historical identities and narrations; they are part of the political context within which these identities and narrations are placed. This is an obvious clue to what to do with divisive history.

To sum up, ethnic Latvians and Russian-speaking Latvians do see history quite differently; their typical historical narrations do at times compete with or contradict each other. Yet the difference is one of perspective rather than a fundamental one. It is bridgeable rather than irreconcilable. That it is often constructed as fundamental and irreconcilable – is another matter.

Even this optimistic account of historical disagreements still leaves us with the question: shouldn’t we try to reduce or even eliminate these disagreements as much as possible in order to shape a cohesive society and democratic polity? This is an appealing argument, but not necessarily a correct one. It is derived from the assumptions of liberal nationalism. The main argument of this school is that culturally rooted identities are an essential and irreplaceable source of political solidarity and trust, that they create social transparency and broaden the scope for positive rational expectations between people. A common national identity – including historical elements – is therefore necessary to underpin a democratic political culture. Yet the liberal nationalist standpoint is questionable. The stability of a political community may depend more on the degree of belonging to the polity citizens feel, rather than the strength of their national identity and cultural uniformity. Shared political values are essential for democratic citizenship, but this does not warrant the claim that a shared identity or a feeling of special historical unity is a necessary precondition. As Arash Abizadeh puts it, “people can affectively identify with each other despite not sharing particular norms or beliefs; the trust indispensable to social integration is not dependent upon shared national culture…” (Abizadeh 2002, 507).[ii] The issue has serious practical implications in our case, as it relates to the choice between two mutually exclusive policies. If the liberal nationalist standpoint is true, a political culture of democratic citizenship can be achieved through policies of “benign nationalism” that tolerate, and even seek to inculcate, maintain, and emphasize culturally motivated national feelings, common identities and narrations. Alternatively, though, such policies may prove to be counterproductive, especially in heterogeneous societies where the process of national identity construction is most likely to cause conflict. The culture of democratic citizenship, therefore, can and should be affirmed through promotion of a political community that is neutral to primordial and cultural identities, or even through policies of explicit toleration and recognition of diverse non-political identities. Divisive cultural and historical identities should take the backseat in the identity construction process. While the theoretical debate on the issue is still ongoing, I believe that the liberal nationalist project in the Latvian context is unlikely to achieve its goal of deconstructing old divisions, but is certain to deepen them, and even create new ones, along the way. At its likely cost, the liberal nationalist project is unnecessary.

What does the above argument mean for our options with history, then?

One option is that of collective remembrance: to force one particular notion of historical narration upon a reluctant citizenry. For the reasons described above, this nationalist option is unnecessary and harmful. It is also impracticable. In any open society, historical identities are not easily manipulated; in a society that is open and diverse, hostile attempts at tweaking identities and narratives are doomed to fail, not to speak of the moral aspect of such manipulation. One has to look back no further than the Estonian experience with historical memory symbols to see how attempts at forcing solutions of historical identity conflicts strengthen confrontational discourses and make exclusionist and isolationist  identities even more resilient (Saar 2007).

The second option is collective oblivion, forgetting the divisive pages of history as Renan would have it. Although sociologists and education professionals may be right in pointing to the decline of history knowledge among the younger generations of Latvians, 20^th century history is still too rooted in identities and personal histories to be entirely forgotten. A lapse in history fact knowledge will be easily filled by history myths, but this would not diminish the relevance of history. Just like collective remembrance, collective oblivion presupposes tweaking historical identities that is bound to add to the problem instead of solving it. Both making people remember correctly and making them forget are unsustainable social engineering projects in an open society.

The third option is that of collective reflection. This will not, in a foreseeable future, lead to a broader and universal notion that incorporates the different personal histories and identities of Latvians. One can indeed hope that, at some point, Latvians of various extractions may come to see their histories as common history. There is a vast are of themes where a sense of commonality can be created naturally, as a common present becomes a common past. But for a long time to come, diversity management is the order of the day: accept the diversity of perspectives, encourage their interpretation in a “compatibility mode”. Let there be multiple histories - multiple histories are not necessarily irreconcilable. Refusal to use the word occupation does not amount to political disloyalty; unwillingness to celebrate Victory Day in Riga does not make one a Nazi revanchist. This can be a frustrating and discomforting exercise at times, but the alternatives are worse. Along with learning history, Latvians have to learn to live with seeing it differently.

This option is the only choice, but it is only workable if the Latvian society recognizes its real problem with history: it is not the historical identities, but the political practices. Latvians need to become a civic nation, and they can only do so by taking the multicultural step. 

By this I mean not making Latvia multicultural (it already is), but recognizing the existing diversity and acting accordingly.  Multicultural principles do not by themselves solve conflicts. But they are useful framework for conflict-solving. By granting legitimacy to diverse identities, they make possible a direct dialogue and negotiation over the interests and concerns of all groups involved. Understood in this way, the multiculturalist approach is not only a more productive way of solving issues; the political interaction it creates helps foster the trust and feeling of commonality that underlie a sustainable civic nation[iii]. If accepted as a general principle, the multicultural approach would make possible the collective reflection over history, as any such reflection should start by a mutual acknowledgement of the initial historical perspectives.  At the same time, history could finally be decoupled from today’s ethno-linguistic issues. Such issues should be addressed through direct negotiation of interests and positions without seeking to undermine each other’s legitimacy with historical arguments.

The multicultural option is a matter of political realism, not of political tastes. The political rationale behind the multiculturalist approach was put rather bluntly by John Berry in a recent Riga lecture[iv]. Referring to the introduction of multicultural policies in Canada, he suggested that it happened because no one wanted to be responsible for an escalating ethno-linguistic conflict. Latvians are also tired of the ethno-linguistic confrontation, but they have yet to make the decisive step to end it. This would presuppose tackling history in a new manner. Although Latvians cannot change their past, they can still choose what to make of it.



References

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Onken, Eva-Clarita (2007) “The Baltic States and Moscow’s 9 May Commemoration: Analysing Memory Politics in Europe.” Europe-Asia Studies 59:1, pp. 23-46.

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Zepa,  Brigita, Kļave Evija, Žabko Oksana, Krastiņa Līga, Bebriša Iveta, Jansone Zane, Vaivode Lelde, Beriņa Liene (2008) Mēs. Svētki. Valsts. Valsts svētku svinēšanas socioloģiska izpēte (Riga: Baltic Institute of Social Sciences).