While there is a lot of literature on various aspects of Estonian history as such, Jean-Jacques Subrenat, the editor of this volume,^[1] sees the debate on Estonian identity lacking in the public domain. The book’s main idea is, accordingly, to contribute to the debate on the links between language, culture, and identity; the experience of foreign occupation; and the desire for independence (pp. 1-2). Subrenat claims the “book does not presume to offer a specialist’s view of Estonian history,” nor does it provide an authoritative interpretation of history, nor is it a history textbook. At the same time, he wishes to avoid imposing “an unremarkable portrait of the truth consisting of commonplaces.” Rather, Estonia, a country that he sees (in 2001!) as still rather insufficiently known both inside and outside of Europe, is taken as a case study for the above concepts.
After Subrenat’s introduction, which briefly discusses the concept of identity, the first part of the book deals with Estonian history before the time of the national awakening of 1870-80; the second covers the national awakening and the formation and existence of the Estonian state before 1940; the third part is devoted to the Soviet period; and the fourth part brings us up from the Singing Revolution to the present.
Each part in turn consists of a number of articles written by Estonian scholars, writers, “cultural workers,” and politicians, including some of Russian origin. Except for Part 2, each one also contains a roundtable of three to five participants who discuss a topic generally pertaining to the main subject of the relevant section. An appendix with co-authors and a chronology of Estonian history rounds off this very readable book.
The editor invited authors to contribute in one of three ways: (i) an article on a period or theme; (ii) “engage in a discussion that seeks to provide a better understanding of the contemporary period, because that provides room for personal observation;” and (iii) “a few debates” that allow for different if not contradictory views to be presented, since the notion of identity “remains subjective” (p. 2). Consequently, the types of articles contained in this volume vary: there are texts by scholars and politicians, juxtaposed with discussion pieces.
The articles invariably start with a few questions to the author (presumably by the editor) and present various avenues to deal with the topic of identity. The views expressed are surely interesting (take the Klaar vis-à-vis the Kelam article), as the articles allow for a good introduction to the views and to some personal life-stories of many of Estonia’s center and center-right politicians (former presidential candidate and professor of politics, Rein Taagepera, however, is missing). An exception to the rule are the three ethnic Russians taking part in the discussions, professor David Vseviov, Head of the Estonian Academy of Arts, the politician Sergei Ivanov, and the journalist Andrei Hvostov.
Subrenat starts with a discussion of the philosophical background to the concept of identity. The dichotomy is between the deterministic idea of identity, and consequently of the nation, as represented by Hegel, Fichte, and their followers, and the more universalist yet subjective view of identity as proposed by Renan and others. The first group emphasizes “ostensibly objective criteria (language, culture, heredity, and later genetics or sociolinguistics) and formulate a conception essentially based on differences of an ethnic and ‘organic’ nature”; the second’s criteria are “the desire for freedom and independence, the citizen’s free will, [and] human rights.” Finally, analyzing the contemporary debate on the subject, Subrenat identifies either a specific cultural zone as the focus or, conversely, the effort to provide a “universal matrix of identity based on linguistic, cultural, economic, strategic or social considerations.” Not wishing to present a detailed account, he wants to “take a bird’s-eye view of contemporary research to see what may help us to understand and interpret the question of Estonian identity” (pp. 5-7).
The following part then deals mainly with Estonian history up to the mid-19th century. First, there is an article on the ethnogenesis of the people of the area of contemporary Estonia (Villems), followed by one starting from the Kunda period, some 11,000 years ago (Kulmar) to the Early Middle Ages. As always, there seems to be a dire necessity to show the Estonians’ right to existence as a small but nevertheless entirely viable nation with distinct characteristics (the chronological history of Estonia in the appendix starts at 9500 BC, with the earth-moving glaciers leaving the area and the first humans arriving, the first settlements being the Kunda Culture). Arjakas (p. 251) provides the correct answer: whenever this point of being the only people in Europe to have lived more than 5000 years in this area is stressed, it is usually conveniently forgotten that Estonian identity started to be forged only around 1850. In between, matters were quite different.
For most of the time before their identity as Estonians was forged, the people living in the area of today’s Estonia saw themselves mainly as “country folks” (maarahvas). They were rooted very much and for the most part lived in rural areas, and consequently also defined themselves in opposition to their overlords, the noble German-speaking upper classes, who had ruled the area for some six-seven centuries, starting with the arrival of the Danes and the German order of the Brethren of the Sword in the 13th century. Tiina Kala discusses the development of the area until around 1550. She clearly cautions that because of the lack of sources, it is difficult to clearly draw the historical developments: the subjective bias of the main source – the missionary Henrik of Latvia – does not help. What becomes clear, though, is that as in most other parts of medieval Europe, the ruler of the area determined the identity of the inhabitants. Margus Laidre covers the period from the 16th to the mid-19th century, during which the area saw much strife and little peace. The dichotomy between peasant country folks and city nobility remained and became hardened.
There were differences in living standards, environment (rural vs. town or city), and language – Estonian was the language of the lower strata, seen as backward (to omit the less charming adjectives), and German was that of the high strata. Generally it appears that there was not one society, but two, living in the same area, with infrequent mixing, save for Estonians having jobs as servants in German homes. Upward mobility for Estonians was achieved through adopting the German language and moving into the German environment of the towns – or, as Laidre puts it, to “Germanize,” which meant a change of identity. For a rather long time, there was little chance of forming an Estonian elite.
The obvious starting point for Estonian intellectual life is the foundation of the Estonian Learned Society, or Ôppetatud Eesti Selts, in 1838 (pp. 77-78). Henceforth, and from the mid-19th century even more so, efforts to start collecting Estonian poems and folk songs (and perform them in regular festivals, starting in 1869 in Tartu), as well as movements for proper schooling in Estonian and the publication of around 25 Estonian papers by the 1890s, culminated in the early 20th century in attempts to add a social and especially political dimension to the forging of an Estonian identity. Calls for economic independence were followed by those for political independence.
Ea Jansen clearly shows how after the language was standardized,^[2] folk poems were collected and common myths (Kalevipoeg, the “Son of Kalev”, along the lines of the Finnish) were established, newspapers (the first being Postimees, The Postman, founded in 1857 in Pärnu) then led to a politicization during the 1870s-1880s, which in conjunction with the 1905 Revolution, led to first calls for independence from the Russian Empire. The education system produced Estonian leaders. Societies and associations were formed and provided the first means to bring people together, although the Estonian intelligentsia was a small world. Interestingly, in the mid-1850s, there was not even a word for either independence (iseseisvus) or republic (vabariik, “free state”) in the Estonian language (p. 245). Jansen clearly accounts for a textbook case of identity and nation-building.
Eero Medijainen takes over quite neatly and follows Jansen in a description of the problems of establishing and then securing Estonian independence in the 1920s and 1930s, an opportunity provided by World War I. The main turning point here was the 1920 Tartu Peace Treaty. Most importantly, with the advent of independence and statehood, Estonian identity changed from a peasant society to a modern one.
In 1939-1940, Estonia was occupied by the Soviet Union. From 1940 to 1988, Soviet institutions were imposed on Estonia. Although Estonians are probably a rather resilient lot, it would be naïve to suggest that Soviet nationalities policies did not have an impact on Estonians and Estonian identity. Andres Tarand writes on the Soviet period and its developments, while Maar Laar discusses the regaining of independence. Laar’s introduction is a bit simplistic, with good Estonians and bad Soviets or Russians (both were usually seen as the same), but he conveniently forgets that there were rather a number of Russians on the barricades and in the Popular Front independence movements. Putting himself in all modesty in his rightful, center-stage place, the former historian turned prime minister, head of the Tallinn City Council and of his party, the Fatherland Union (Isamaa Liit), provides an overview, if subjective, of one who was in the thick of the struggle to regain independence.
Through it all, the core of Estonian identity has been language. The fact that Estonians were literate very early can be found repeated time and again, with some of the best known persons in Estonian history being those who helped standardize the language: Estonian writers, poets, and grammarians, as well as those who set up the network of correspondents who collected folk songs and poetry, such as Johannes Veski, Jakob Hurt, Friedrich Kreuzwald and Carl Jakobson, J. Jannsen and his daughter, Lydia Koidula, to name but a few of those to whom an entire part of Tartu street names is dedicated.
Anything endangering their language is by extension an attempt to endanger Estonians’ identity. Consequently, attempts at Russification both during the 1880s and during the Soviet era were an attack on all Estonians as a people. In his article, Rein Raud shows how Estonians in exile, having fled Soviet occupation and living in Sweden, the US, or Australia, kept using Estonian, as it provided them with a key ingredient of their lives. They became what in Estonian is known as the väliseestlased (literally, External Estonians, or perhaps, Estonians Abroad), i.e., those Estonians who lived abroad as opposed to Kodueestlased (Home Estonians), those who never left the country. Indeed, quite a number of the politicians taking part in this project could be called väliseestlased (Mari-Ann Kelam, Liis Klaar, and Toomas Hendrik Ilves). All seem to have a rather different idea about identity, showing that Subrenat, and his stress on the subjective nature of identity, is probably right.
Liis Klaar writes about her experience as a refugee in Germany, and later in Sweden, growing up in the Estonian community: Swedish education by day, Estonian by night in private life, with Estonian being spoken as the main family language, and participation in the Estonian scouts movement. She also writes about the different communities she experienced (Canada, Sweden, US, Australia, Switzerland), and the various regimes when living there: Estonians in Canada were richer than those in Sweden, but in the 1950s-1960s, you had to see and fight Communism everywhere, while in Sweden, much closer to home, a much more relaxed view prevailed. Those in Sweden were seen almost as “Red” as the original communists in the Soviet Union. Comparing less the content than the tone, Mari-Ann Kelam is what might be termed a stout Estonian nationalist; Liis Klaar is somewhat more critical in reflecting the predominant views of the times and places in which she grew up, but still maintains that fighting for Estonia and Estonian identity was part of her life. Kelam seems to have been influenced by both the time and place in which she lived, taking part in activities by Estonians in exile in the US and Sweden, too, to uphold Estonian culture. Ilves, growing up in the US, having been Estonian ambassador to the US, Canada, and Mexico, working for Radio Free Europe in Munich and speaking, as do many of the Estonian elite, more than one language (“Upper West Side” American, Estonian, and others), provides an interesting contrast to many Estonians, and surely to exiled Estonians, for he cannot quite see that the language is the most important facet of Estonian identity or of being Estonian – he just is, and asks what is the proper identity for his son, who was born in Germany but lived in Germany, the US, and Estonia, and speaks German, English, and Estonian like a native. The article by Raimo Raag, a linguist, provides a very good look into the lives of Estonians in the West and consequently a backdrop for the personal stories above.
The crucial question both in domestic and foreign politics – again linked to the Estonian language – for the entire post-Soviet period was the question of the “Russians,” i.e., the non-Estonian population (including Ukrainians and many others). In a sense, the wheel turns full circle, for again there was a foreign group against whom Estonians were pitted. In the 1920s, as mentioned above, it was the Germans, who were regarded as outsiders to the Estonian people. In Soviet and post-Soviet times, it has been the Russians.
It is difficult to avoid the feeling that there is a strong tendency to see everything afflicting the country from the outside in terms of the dichotomy between “us” and “them.” This dichotomy seems to run very deep by now. In the process of acquiring, defining, and forming their own identity, Estonians and their historians were pitted against the German nobility, seeing themselves as underdogs (pp. 48-49). But looking at the Soviet period, Estonians again had the role of underdogs, which, granted, the period and the powers of the time did nothing to correct. Yet this also and again led to a parallel society (i.e., no mingling with the Russians, who never saw the need to integrate or for close contacts). For most Estonians, integration into their society has meant a willingness to learn the Estonian language and, more importantly, to accept their right to exist as a people. That, however, was an alien concept to other Soviet people speaking Russian, the main language of communication in the Soviet Union. Taking into account that the Russians were also almost always equated with the Soviets, the circle is full: again, it is the rural vs. the city population, underdog vs. overlord, except this time it is Estonians vs. Russians. Raud provides a stimulating discussion of this matter at the end of the volume.^[3]
I cannot be sure that the book will contribute to the debate wished for by the editor, for quite a number of positions are well known in the field, both in terms of the politicians’ (center-right) views and the facts mentioned in the historians’ writings. Neither can I be sure that the birds-eye view of contemporary research indeed brings much new to the field. This also applies to the discussions as the third structural component of the book. In a sense, I do not quite follow why Subrenat in his introduction takes quite a number of steps backward (no specialists’ views of any field, no history textbook, no desire to provide an authoritative interpretation of history), almost discrediting in the process the articles on Estonian history that provide the backbone to the whole book. Taking one look at the phalanx of well-known historians and other specialists, who do provide their own viewpoint, this introduction becomes a bit puzzling. Whatever else do they produce? After all, Subrenat’s concept of mixing historical academic writing with personal opinion and memory is rather interesting, although I feel that the discussions (especially those the writers Jaan Kaplinski and Jaan Kross together with Paul-Eerik Rummo and Kalev Kesküla take part in) are at times too specific for outside readers, as they require a high degree of background knowledge to be fully understood.
Unfortunately, readers must be warned that the book does not contain any foot- or endnotes, nor further reading (except, curiously, for the article by Raimo Raag). I fail to see why the most basic task of academic work, providing a list of one’s sources, is willingly neglected. If a book project is as big as this one – it has been published, after all, in four languages – final page numbers really should not be a reason to curb such an important a part of any academic work. Other than that, the book can only be thoroughly recommended as a reliable and very readable overview with an interesting concept.