Category: Russians in Latvia

If not inclusive, then divisive

On December 11, 2024

In language policy, Latvia, Russians in Latvia

That central and eastern Europe rightfully fear the imminent return of a Kremlin-subservient American presidency only magnifies the disappointment that the US did not do more, and sooner, to untie Ukraine’s hands in responding to Putin’s 2022 all-out invasion. Many Latvians, knowing they are “next” if Ukraine falls, have not been sparing in their condemnations.

Biden did little to benefit Ukraine—thus also never initiated an armaments Lend Lease [similar to the US with the USSR in WWII]. There is no longer any illusion about Biden/the Democrats.
By imposing the Russian language, the US Embassy regularly reminds Latvians—the US supports Russian occupation and its fallout in Latvia.
US Democrats are not to be trusted!

“Imposing the Russian language?” What had we missed?

Earlier, in October, the US Embassy launched an official channel on Telegram, complete with US Ambassador Christopher Robinson’s video introduction, addressing his Russian/Russophone audience in perfectly fluent Russian.

Translating the posted Russian (our emphasis):

Welcome to the Telegram channel of the U.S. Embassy in Latvia! We are pleased to share our first message, a greeting from Ambassador Robinson. Through this channel, we will share information and resources about cultural, professional, and educational programs, as well as opportunities to learn about our work and partners. All our content will be original and will only be available on Telegram. We look forward to hearing from you! 👋

Thus, a 33-year-old Latvian born after the restoration of independence who chose to not learn Russian—the language of the half-century occupier, has no idea what the US Embassy officially communicates to Latvia’s Russian/Russophone inhabitants. We addressed our concerns to the US Embassy in an Email, as yet not acknowledged.

December 6, 2024
Dear Ambassador Robinson,

    I am a first-generation Latvian-American. My parents were WWII refugees who came to the US in 1950. Thanks to a warning to not go home, my mother (a post office supervisor) escaped being deported to Siberia with the rest of her family. Thanks to being born in 1905, not 1906, my father (an artist who graduated the national art academy) escaped being conscripted by the Nazis. That historical DNA informs the cultural preservation mission of our heritage and reference website, latvians.com, active since 1998, and other web projects (aizsargi.org, latvianlegion.org). I also host/maintain tilts.org, nylatvianconcertchoir.org, and served as webmaster for the 2007 Indianapolis Latvian Song and Dance Festival. Lastly, I curate the official website of the late Holocaust scholar Andrew Ezergailis, holocaustinlatvia.org.
    Latvian culture has survived in the face of countless external ravages over the centuries. Thus, I am taken aback by your decision to launch an official US Embassy in Latvia Russian-language channel on Telegram. As you are aware, official communications in the country of Latvia are to be conducted in Latvian. I appreciate the Embassy desiring to reach out to Latvia’s Russian minority; however, I cannot support its method. Quoting your October 29, 2024 launch announcement:

“Добро пожаловать на канал Telegram посольства США в Латвии! Мы рады поделиться нашим первым сообщением – приветствием от посла Робинсона. Через этот канал мы будем делиться информацией и ресурсами о культурных, профессиональных и образовательных программах, а также возможностями познакомиться с нашей работой и партнерами. Весь наш контент будет оригинальным и будет доступен только в Telegram. Мы с нетерпением ждем общения с вами! 👋”

I take issue with “Весь наш контент будет оригинальным и будет доступен только в Telegram.”—“All of our content will be original and available only on Telegram.”
    Thus, if I am a citizen of Latvia not fluent in Russian, I cannot understand what the government of the United States is officially communicating to the Russian minority. I understand that US Embassy grounds are sovereign American soil and technically not “Latvia,” so the Embassy is not bound by the laws of Latvia. However, this intentional flouting of Latvian law and norms disrespects the nation of Latvia and insults all its citizens who abide by its laws regardless their personal ethnic heritage.
    This exclusive catering to the Russian community pointedly validates its self-imposed linguistic apartheid. Shortly after Latvia regained independence, a female Russian caller to Riga talk radio swore she would “never learn that pig language.” (My relatives translated.) Over three decades later, her invective still rings true and is felt in everyday Latvian life. Venues such as the renowned LIDO restaurant are compelled to conduct employee meetings in Russian; employees not fluent in Russian cannot even rise to become a food station supervisor.
    However it is you intended your Telegram presence, I can vouch that neither the Latvian nor Russian community perceives it as inclusive of the other. And not being inclusive, it is divisive.

Awaiting your response,
Pēters Jānis Vecrumba

Should we receive a response, we will share it here. We forwarded the same to the Latvian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

A personal Soviet memorabilia museum in Latvia

Fear and suspicion and Russophones in Latvia

By peters vecrumba

On January 31, 2024

In language policy, Latvia, Russians in Latvia

We recently came across a New York Times article from late December writing of the plight of Russians who have never passed the language competency test and now risk losing their permanent resident status. In “In a Baltic Nation, Fear and Suspicion Stalk Russian Speakers” (published December 18, 2023, updated December 20, 2023), Andrew Higgins, reporting from Daugavpils and Rīga, begins:

The Russian-speaking widow was born in Latvia 63 years ago, when it was still a part of the Soviet Union, got married there and raised a family. She has never lived anywhere else.
So it came as a nasty surprise this fall when she received a curt official letter saying she had lost her rights to residency, a state pension and medical care. “You must leave the territory of the Republic of Latvia by Nov. 30, 2023,” she was informed.
With nowhere to go, the widow, Nina Marcinkevica, who has heart and lung problems and high blood pressure, said she collapsed from shock and spent the next three days in bed weeping.

The article goes on to paint this action as a product of Latvian fear of Russia, of fomenting against Russians in response to the invasion of Ukraine, and (our paraphrasing) using testing for basic fluency in Latvian, the sole official state language, as a litmus test of loyalty to Latvia.

Whose apartheid?

While Russia’s invasion of Ukraine was a precipitory factor for renewed pressure to insure language proficiency enforcement, Marcinkevica’s plight also represents a choice. For decades, many of Latvia’s Russophones have lived in a self-perpetuated Russophone bubble, shopping Russian-speaking stores, consuming Russian-language broadcast and printed media, getting by without needing to know a word of Latvian. The Kremlin and Russian media, on the other hand, would have us believe Russians’ fervent longings to join Latvian society are being actively repulsed by the Latvian state; they have denounced Latvia’s authorities repeatedly for marginalizing their Russian population and for creating state-sanctioned apartheid: RT, Vzgljad, Baltnews, Rubaltic, Rambler.ru, and Rueconomics, among others, have been complaining about Latvia’s “apartheid” regime in their headlines for years.

Three decades of choosing to not learn Latvian

Marcinkevica was born in 1960. Putting aside various declarations by Soviet Latvia et al. on the reclamation of sovereignty, the USSR recognized Latvia’s independence on September 6, 1991, thus she was 30 or 31 at the time. The only reason to not to learn the native language during the intervening 32 years since is not feeling a need to learn the “pig language”—as I was present to hear it on Latvian talk radio circa 1992. (My relatives interpreted for me.)

All that is required to maintain permanent residency is to demonstrate a basic knowledge of Latvian, which brings up the proficiency test. I looked at it years ago and it seemed to me that I could handily pass it with a refresher of high school ‘Spanish I’ were the test in Spanish. So, what are the specific testing requirements?

Language proficiency requirements

Technically, the applicant must demonstrate “A2” level proficiency in Latvian as a foreign language (from the perspective of the applicant). The A2 test as of this writing is available here (PDF). The applicant must achieve a passing score of 60% each in listening, reading, writing, and oral proficiency. Other than any essays or oral examinations, answers are multiple choice.

What is “A2” proficiency? From a description on the British consulate’s web site in Spain:

Level A2 corresponds to basic users of the language, i.e. those able to communicate in everyday situations with commonly-used expressions and elementary vocabulary. It is important to bear in mind that the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFRL) is the system that defines and explains the different levels of oral and written expression and comprehension for languages such as English [and in this case, Latvian]. It consists of 6 levels of reference: three blocks (A or basic user, B or independent user and C or proficient user), which are in turn divided into two sublevels, 1 and 2.
SKILLS AT LEVEL A2
One of the questions you might ask yourself when you read this information is, what language competences characterise a person who can prove they have a level A2 in English [or any other language]? The CEFRL specifies the following:
He/she can understand sentences and frequently-used expressions related to the areas of experience most immediately relevant to him/her (e.g. very basic personal and family information, shopping, places of interest, employment, etc.).
He/she can communicate in simple, everyday tasks requiring no more than a simple and direct exchange of information on familiar and routine matters.
He/she can describe in simple terms aspects of his/her past, environment and matters related to his/her immediate needs.

Put another way, how much of the local language would you need to learn to get by if no one spoke any language you knew? And let’s say all you had was a small “basic phrases” booklet upon your arrival. Surely over the span of thirty years you could learn to competently ask the price of a head of cabbage.

Oppression or reasonable and legitimate expectations?

This is far from the first controversy over the imposition of Latvian as the one and only state language. The same occurred under the Ulmanis (post-coup) regime. Ethnic schools were abolished, instruction was standardized in Latvian, and the multiple dialects of Latvian itself standardized. Today it is popular to portray that as a manifestation of “Latvia for the Latvians” ethno-nationalism, of a Latvian cultural xenophobia. This is simply untrue.

Ulmanis’ agricultural studies were a core influence to his politics. He had attended the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich, continued his studies at Leipzig University in Germany, then, following political unrest, ended up studying at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in agriculture. Ulmanis learned the essential role of communications to economic planning and development; he understood that unless all Latvia’s citizenry conversed in a common language, the prospects for future economic development of a small country like Latvia were severely limited.

To whose benefit?

Who has benefited from Russian self-apartheid over the past three decades? Other than the personal convenience of Russophones, it can only be seen as a net loss to all of Latvia’s inhabitants, citizens and non-citizens; and a benefit to the Kremlin, whose primary goal is to sow societal divisions in its neighbors. Indeed, one of the most vociferous critics of Latvia’s “apartheid” policies over the past three decades, Latvia’s EU parliamentarian Tatjana Ždanoka, was just revealed to have been a Russian FSB asset working for two different handlers, minimally from 2009 to 2017.

None of this is to say that we do not feel sympathy for those who have lived in Latvia all their lives and who, based on easy—if now problematic—choices in the past, face losing their resident status. Nor are questions and impact of perceived or actual loyalty to the Kremlin easily resolved, especially given Putin’s current campaign of genocide in Ukraine.

Those affected have been granted an extension to 2025.

MEMBERS of Latvia’s Russian minority take part in a rally on June 2 to protest against the imposition of Latvian as the main teaching language in minority schools.—AFP

Boris Kagarlitsky’s “Common Baltic Future”

By peters vecrumba

On September 3, 2004

In Latvia, Russians in Latvia

I read Boris Kagarlitsky’s thoughts on “A Common Baltic Future” [read article here] with great interest. I found, however, that his appraisal shares a fundamental flaw with much of the analyses disseminated about the “problem” of Latvian Russians: that Latvian nationalists fear application of EU objectivity and norms because it will stop their abuse of Latvian Russians. That is the basis of Mr. Kagarlitsky’s alleged “paradox.”

Indisputably, Latvian nationalists look to EU membership to re-affirm the Baltics’ western European heritage—even under czarist Russia, the Baltics exercised a considerable degree of autonomy and remained western in outlook. A fundamental point which Mr. Kagarlitsky misses, however, is that Latvian nationalists also look to the EU for objectivity regarding the situation of Latvian Russians. They seek an effective counterbalance to Russia’s wide-ranging and ceaseless assault on the Baltics, from the Duma’s jingoistic pronouncements on human rights violations—the Baltics’ treatment of Russians is apparently more evil than the Russian army’s practice of exploding Chechen bodies to prevent identification—to the Duma’s resolutions that the Baltics joined the Soviet Union voluntarily and legally—and that to suggest otherwise is an anti-anti-fascist—i.e., Nazi—lie.

The true paradox is that Russia, as self-appointed proxy for Latvian Russians, does not seek EU objectivity. It rejects outright any objectivity that fails to fit its anti-Baltic agenda. The OSCE position on the validity of Latvia’s language laws is clear and indisputable; that position is now under frontal assault: Russia and its more oppressive CIS partners, in a joint declaration, recently took the OSCE to task for pointing out their human rights violations—the aforementioned exploding bodies, widening suppression of a free press, et al.—while turning a blind eye to atrocities committed daily in Estonia and Latvia.

Indeed, Mr. Kagarlitsky takes up Russia’s “blind eye” argument in his direct assertion that the Baltics are not being held to EU standards: “attempts by the Latvian government to drastically reduce the availability of Russian-language instruction in public schools flagrantly contradicts European norms,” and, “if the interests of minorities were a concern for Western politicians, Latvia and Estonia would not have been admitted to the EU until they had brought their laws in this area into line with European norms.” This EU-Baltic axis “consipiracy theory” plays well in domestic Russian politics and international posturing, but it is no more than Russian misdirection and misinformation taking on the guise of veracity by way of endless repetition.

If one scrutinizes minority language schooling within the EU, there is no simple declaration demanding such; rather, one finds a formalized process for preserving the languages of centuries-extant indigenous minorities evaluated and executed on a case by case basis. (In Latvia, this could apply to schooling in Liv or Latgalian.) Regardless, there is nothing in Latvia’s language policies which precludes Russian cultural instruction in Russian. As a parallel, I was born and grew up in New York, but attended Latvian school on the weekend, studying grammar, literature, history, and geography in my parents’ native language. Conversely, my parents learned English in order to fully participate in the life-blood of their new home.

And therein lies the true crux of the issue. The situation is not one of Latvians systematically attempting to wipe out the Russian language and culture—even every one of my relative says “Davai!” for “Okay!” It’s not the preservation of Russian that is at issue, it is Latvian Russian refusal to learn Latvian. There is a segment of Latvian Russians who:

continue to hold the Latvians and Latvian language in utter disdain;
continue to believe that Soviet preferential treatment of Russians versus Latvians is a natural state of entitlement;
and that denial of that entitlement is oppression.

When Russian journalists held their worldwide convention in Latvia in August, 2000, to discuss the state of Russians abroad, they expected to hold Latvia—the global epicenter of Russian minority abuse—accountable to the world. Instead, even Duma politicians in attendance freely admitted that what they found was far different from what Russian pronouncements and Latvian Russian “rights-advocates” had led them to expect.

Put bluntly, the refusal to learn Latvian by segments of its Russian minority is not a defiant act of Russian cultural preservation. It is a blatant effort to perpetuate perceived Russian supremacy through denial of the Latvian state. And therein, perhaps, we find the true motivation of the Russian Duma in its endless denouncements of the Baltic “situation”: its collective weltschmerz over how things are—independent autonomous Baltic states—and how it wishes they were—continued Soviet/Russian domination and state-paid vacations for Duma members to Jūrmala, the Latvian Riviera.