Tag: russians in latvia

A personal Soviet memorabilia museum in Latvia

Fear and suspicion and Russophones in Latvia

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.

protest against instruction in Latvian, exhortation to not cross the "red line"

Russification under the covers

By peters vecrumba

On September 2, 2023

In language policy, Latvia

(“Nationalist”) Latvians were heartened when Latvian authorities announced plans to potentially deport some 10,000 Russian-speakers who chose Russian citizenship/passports following the restoration of independence but have failed to meet residency language requirements since. With a September 1st deadline for compliance looming, they were equally disheartened when the government backed down in late August over denunciations of “hard-line” measures. Affected individuals now have another two years’ grace period to complete their studies and pass their exam.

video snapshot of lsm.lv Latvian state broadcasting, — Latvians protesting extension of the deadline for Russian citizens to pass their residency language requirements examination. Sign means “Learn or gather your things and leave!” (*via news report on lsm.lv Latvian state broadcasting*)

At the moment, four accountants of the Daugavpils Education Board have been fined for not knowing Latvian sufficiently well. For now, they still have their jobs, but have to demonstrate language competency by November. From a societal perspective, as of September 1st, 129 schools and 136 kindergartens teaching in Russian have been mandated to convey education only in the state language, Latvian. Such actions have fomented denunciations by well-meaning rights activists, Kremlin trolls, and the Russian-speakers affected who, from my perspective, have enjoyed the fruits of their consequences-free self-imposed apartheid Russian privilege bubble for longer than Latvia’s first years of freedom between WWI and WWII.

It is not some innocuous bubble that is being pierced, however. Nor is this the first time Latvian language policy has been denounced. Under the pre-WWII Ulmanis regime, instruction was also standardized to be conducted in Latvian. Prior to that, national/ethnic minorities had the right to run their own schools in their own languages as long as state-mandated curriculum requirements were met. In the era of “Latvia for the Latvians,” standardization was decried as ethno-nationalist oppression; regarding prior instruction in Hebrew by its Jewish minority, the policy is portrayed today as a touchstone of pre-WWII Latvian anti-Semitism.

False. Anti-Semites denounced Latvia as a “Jewish country” for the positive view and role of Jews in society. Latvia was the only European country to ban anti-Semitic literature. Latvia served as a transit country for Jews fleeing Nazi Germany after other countries had closed their borders.

Ulmanis understood that the future economic prospects of a country the small size and population of Latvia in which not even Latvians learned in and spoke the same version of Latvian were severely constrained unless and until the Latvian language and school instruction were standardized. The impetus had nothing to do with so-called ethno-nationalism. It was a simple matter of economic survival and growth.

Once again, over eight decades—a lifetime—later, Latvian language “policy” is not about oppression of a minority but about progress of society as a whole, including, ironically, improving the circumstances of those impacted by and most vehemently opposed to the policy.

Mainstream media have trodden out accounts of elderly women lining up to take their language proficiency tests when their potential deportation was first announced, distraught that they “have no other place to go” if they fail and are expelled to their chosen country of citizenship. But the imagery of heartless Latvian nationalism run amok dissipates when you do the math. Someone 80 years old today was 48 years old when the USSR recognized Latvian independence on September 6th, 1991. Spending more than three decades not learning enough of the local language to get by is a choice. Choices eventually have consequences.

The societal choice to indulge Russian apartheidism also has consequences. Some months ago, I learned that employees at LIDO, a wildly popular buffet-style restaurant that I myself have frequented over the years on visits to Latvia—and with unbecoming salivating anticipation, conducts its employee meetings in Russian because their Russian employees don’t know Latvian. As a result, someone who does not know Russian has no career path at LIDO: lacking Russian fluency, you can’t even become a food station supervisor. Thus, there is now an entire generation of Latvian 20-30 year olds who don’t speak Russian (the language of the last occupier and centuries-old existential threat) who have no career prospects across a wide range of establishments and businesses which are “Latvian” in name and image, but are Russified under the covers.

Latvia of the first independence was cosmopolitan. Most Latvians were multi-lingual: my mother was fluent in Latvian and German (and still remembered smatterings of grade school Russian), my father in Latvian, German, and Russian. And they both learned English in the post-WWII refugee camps to prepare for starting over in their post-war life. The point is not that they were some ilk of conformist polyglots, rather, that in committing to learn the language of their new country they opened up economic opportunities for themselves and, in turn, subsequently contributed to the material success of their employers and society.

The situation for Latvia today is no different. Individual and societal economic prosperity demands standardization of communication. And the answer to that in a Western-facing Latvia is not the Russian language. Indeed, Putin’s unprovoked attack on Ukraine has turned Russia into an international pariah, and the learning of Russian in its neighboring states into an anathema.

It is well past overdue for Latvia’s non-Latvian speakers to make the choice and join mainstream society.

We wrote to the Apollo Group, 51% stake-holders in LIDO (since 2021), to inquire about their employee language policy. We will notify you of and share any reply we receive here.

Latvia’s “oppressed” Russians

By peters vecrumba

On June 11, 2022

In Latvia, Post-Soviet geopolitics

I recently wound up in a still-ongoing Twitter argument about Kosovo, its history, and whether Serbs or Albanians have the more indigenous claim. Serbs are adamant Kosovo is Serbian land, that Albanians are interlopers. Indeed, that Albanians did not even exist as a people until the Ottoman Empire created them. (We note that if language is culture, Albanian is thought to be a millennium older than Serbian.)

The discussion inevitably descended into whataboutism. Who was I to discuss Kosovo when Latvians oppressed Russians?

You’re lying [that Russian propaganda about Latvia’s oppression of Russians is lies]! What Russian propaganda? When I was in Latvia a couple of months ago, Russians are literally second-class citizens. Not only that, they fear for their lives and must not say anything against the policies of your government. And then Putin is a dictator? ~~and~~ In Russia everyone has the same rights and we are allowed to criticize the government. [translated from Serbian]

More troubling than this false Russian narrative is that more than 30 years after fully restoring sovereignty, Latvians must learn Russian order to have any career opportunity. Even the LIDO restaurant chain conducts employee meetings in Russian because Russians still refuse to learn Latvian—and Latvians indulge them.

Our mailer editorial from September 2004 could have just as easily been written yesterday. From our archives:

Editorial, September 3, 2004

I read Boris Kagarlitsky’s thoughts on “A Common Baltic Future” [read article here] with great interest. I found, however, that they share a fundamental flaw with much of the analyses disseminated about the “problem” of Latvian Russians: that the Latvian nationalists fear the 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 minority 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.

Boris Kagarlitsky (Russian: Бори́с Кагарли́цкий; born 29 August 1958) is a Russian Marxist theoretician and sociologist who has been a political dissident in the Soviet Union and in post-Soviet Russia. He is coordinator of the Transnational Institute Global Crisis project and Director of the Institute of Globalization and Social Movements (IGSO) in Moscow. Kagarlisky hosts a YouTube channel “Rabkor,” associated with his online newspaper of the same name and with the IGSO. (Russia declared Kagarlisky and IGSO as “foreign agents” in 2021). [per Wikipedia]