Baltic States
No, not the Balkans. I’m talking Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania (with honorable mention for Finland). As a traveler and as a Historian of Modern Europe, I had a big gap for this corner of the Afro-Eurasian continent that’s now (after a 12-day sojourn) patched (if not fully explored).
Big countries get all the press—in both History and current affairs. The political crisis in France the past few weeks has gotten far more coverage than the conflicts within the government in Lithuania, for example. Little countries (and the three Baltic States all qualify, with a combined population of about six million) get squeezed in between big powers, a situation often to their geopolitical detriment. The Baltics have been caught between Russians and Germans (and the Swedes in the 16-18C) ever since they were dragged into Christendom in the 13-14C. It hasn’t been pleasant and since the rise of European nationalism in the 19C, they each have bristled under the domination of their bigger brethren.
When the Russian Empire collapsed under the twin blows of WWI and Lenin’s Revolution, they bolted for independence, only to be swept up by Stalin in 1940, Hitler in 1941, and Stalin again in 1944. It’s no wonder they were first out the door when the USSR collapsed in 1991. Each asserted that they were reviving their independence from early in the 20C. The Museum of the Occupation in Riga (Latvia) stacks these eras together in a powerful story of modern independence in the face of oppression.
It's also no wonder that they jumped into the arms of the European Union and NATO in 2004 as the best protector both of modern democratic norms and of military defense. The number of NATO flags flown in all corners of the three countries was remarkable and shows that these folks know what’s really important. Even more than the NATO and EU flags, the Ukrainian flag was everywhere. As fellow-sufferers of Russian aggressiveness, the Baltics are strongly committed to support Ukraine morally as well as financially. In both Latvia and Lithuania, they have renamed the street on which the Russian Embassy sits as the “Street of Ukrainian Freedom” and anti-Russian protests are an ongoing feature. Significant Russian-speaking populations in Estonia and Latvia make them uncomfortably similar to Ukraine as targets of Putin’s efforts to reconstruct the Russian Empire.
Beyond their geopolitical situation, it's important to recall that while we may lump the three countries together, there are sharp differences between them in history, culture, and language; although local animosities and rivalries seem to be suppressed. None of the three languages is mutually intelligible and none has any significant connection to their European neighbors. Estonian is closest to Finnish and Hungarian, but Latvian and Lithuanian are their own branch of the linguistic tree. Fortunately (and, again, typical of small countries) everyone in the big cities speaks multiple foreign languages with English being ubiquitous. Lithuania is predominantly Catholic (tied to their close relationship with Poland for several hundred years (16-18C). Latvia is mostly Lutheran, and Estonia is a mixed bag of post-religious, Lutheran and Eastern Orthodox.
Lithuania was a major power in its own right in the Middle Ages. It was the largest country in Europe in the 15C, famously stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea (far more important than the contemporaneous Henry VIII of England who gets vastly more press). It is now, of course, just a shadow of its former expanse (only about 7%). The Grand Dukes were remarkably religiously tolerant then and, among other groups, Jews flourished, becoming a significant portion of the population before Russia took over in the 18C. Russia confined Jews mostly to that territory (called the “Pale of Settlement”) and, of course, the population of Jews was almost eliminated during the Holocaust. There are moving memorials and museums to this lost culture in each country. Latvia and Estonia never grew beyond their own neighborhood. Instead, their principal ports: Tallinn and Riga were key parts of the Hanseatic League, a Baltic-focused association of trading cities from the era (13-17C) before modern nation-states became the dominant form of political organization.
As former Soviet territories, they emerged in the early 1990s far behind Western Europe in terms of economic development, but have made considerable strides since then, especially in Lithuania and Estonia, not far from Spain in GDP per capita, leaving Russia far in their wake. They cling to their traditional culture even as they increasingly shift towards comprehensive European integration. While Wi-Fi is everywhere, Estonia is notable for its commitment to digitalization, especially of governmental processes. Each has its own sets of castles (mostly from the Middle Ages) and palaces (a couple of Versailles wanna-be’s). Tallinn has a well-preserved medieval old city, Riga has a lovely Art Nouveau quarter, and Vilnius has some older buildings as well, but comes across much more as a bustling modern European capital.
History, as I have repeatedly said, doesn’t hold many specific lessons for current events; there’s too many differences in contexts. Nonetheless, given the current febrile political environment and the dark outlook we all face on several fronts, there is inspiration to be found in the example of the Baltics. They’ve been occupied for most of the last five hundred years. They have suffered—culturally and economically—far more than what we in the modern West are used to. Still, they persevered and, eventually, triumphed. In each of the three countries, they look back with pride not only on their uniqueness, but also how they banded together in 1988 to create a human chain of more than 2 million people stretching from Tallinn to Riga to Vilnius to demonstrate a shared commitment to their independence and hope for freedom. They were likely as surprised as most that it came to fruition so quickly, when the Soviet empire collapsed in 1991, but they showed that dark times are not all end times. The event is called “The Baltic Way.”
Overall, I had a successful trip. It was a good reminder that one of the benefits of travel is seeing the diversity of people in places, even (especially?) in parts of the world that we think are broadly familiar. There is diversity and pride in culture and history in every corner of the world and, in an important sense, everywhere is a corner.
No, not the Balkans. I’m talking Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania (with honorable mention for Finland). As a traveler and as a Historian of Modern Europe, I had a big gap for this corner of the Afro-Eurasian continent that’s now (after a 12-day sojourn) patched (if not fully explored).
Big countries get all the press—in both History and current affairs. The political crisis in France the past few weeks has gotten far more coverage than the conflicts within the government in Lithuania, for example. Little countries (and the three Baltic States all qualify, with a combined population of about six million) get squeezed in between big powers, a situation often to their geopolitical detriment. The Baltics have been caught between Russians and Germans (and the Swedes in the 16-18C) ever since they were dragged into Christendom in the 13-14C. It hasn’t been pleasant and since the rise of European nationalism in the 19C, they each have bristled under the domination of their bigger brethren.
When the Russian Empire collapsed under the twin blows of WWI and Lenin’s Revolution, they bolted for independence, only to be swept up by Stalin in 1940, Hitler in 1941, and Stalin again in 1944. It’s no wonder they were first out the door when the USSR collapsed in 1991. Each asserted that they were reviving their independence from early in the 20C. The Museum of the Occupation in Riga (Latvia) stacks these eras together in a powerful story of modern independence in the face of oppression.
It's also no wonder that they jumped into the arms of the European Union and NATO in 2004 as the best protector both of modern democratic norms and of military defense. The number of NATO flags flown in all corners of the three countries was remarkable and shows that these folks know what’s really important. Even more than the NATO and EU flags, the Ukrainian flag was everywhere. As fellow-sufferers of Russian aggressiveness, the Baltics are strongly committed to support Ukraine morally as well as financially. In both Latvia and Lithuania, they have renamed the street on which the Russian Embassy sits as the “Street of Ukrainian Freedom” and anti-Russian protests are an ongoing feature. Significant Russian-speaking populations in Estonia and Latvia make them uncomfortably similar to Ukraine as targets of Putin’s efforts to reconstruct the Russian Empire.
Beyond their geopolitical situation, it's important to recall that while we may lump the three countries together, there are sharp differences between them in history, culture, and language; although local animosities and rivalries seem to be suppressed. None of the three languages is mutually intelligible and none has any significant connection to their European neighbors. Estonian is closest to Finnish and Hungarian, but Latvian and Lithuanian are their own branch of the linguistic tree. Fortunately (and, again, typical of small countries) everyone in the big cities speaks multiple foreign languages with English being ubiquitous. Lithuania is predominantly Catholic (tied to their close relationship with Poland for several hundred years (16-18C). Latvia is mostly Lutheran, and Estonia is a mixed bag of post-religious, Lutheran and Eastern Orthodox.
Lithuania was a major power in its own right in the Middle Ages. It was the largest country in Europe in the 15C, famously stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea (far more important than the contemporaneous Henry VIII of England who gets vastly more press). It is now, of course, just a shadow of its former expanse (only about 7%). The Grand Dukes were remarkably religiously tolerant then and, among other groups, Jews flourished, becoming a significant portion of the population before Russia took over in the 18C. Russia confined Jews mostly to that territory (called the “Pale of Settlement”) and, of course, the population of Jews was almost eliminated during the Holocaust. There are moving memorials and museums to this lost culture in each country. Latvia and Estonia never grew beyond their own neighborhood. Instead, their principal ports: Tallinn and Riga were key parts of the Hanseatic League, a Baltic-focused association of trading cities from the era (13-17C) before modern nation-states became the dominant form of political organization.
As former Soviet territories, they emerged in the early 1990s far behind Western Europe in terms of economic development, but have made considerable strides since then, especially in Lithuania and Estonia, not far from Spain in GDP per capita, leaving Russia far in their wake. They cling to their traditional culture even as they increasingly shift towards comprehensive European integration. While Wi-Fi is everywhere, Estonia is notable for its commitment to digitalization, especially of governmental processes. Each has its own sets of castles (mostly from the Middle Ages) and palaces (a couple of Versailles wanna-be’s). Tallinn has a well-preserved medieval old city, Riga has a lovely Art Nouveau quarter, and Vilnius has some older buildings as well, but comes across much more as a bustling modern European capital.
History, as I have repeatedly said, doesn’t hold many specific lessons for current events; there’s too many differences in contexts. Nonetheless, given the current febrile political environment and the dark outlook we all face on several fronts, there is inspiration to be found in the example of the Baltics. They’ve been occupied for most of the last five hundred years. They have suffered—culturally and economically—far more than what we in the modern West are used to. Still, they persevered and, eventually, triumphed. In each of the three countries, they look back with pride not only on their uniqueness, but also how they banded together in 1988 to create a human chain of more than 2 million people stretching from Tallinn to Riga to Vilnius to demonstrate a shared commitment to their independence and hope for freedom. They were likely as surprised as most that it came to fruition so quickly, when the Soviet empire collapsed in 1991, but they showed that dark times are not all end times. The event is called “The Baltic Way.”
Overall, I had a successful trip. It was a good reminder that one of the benefits of travel is seeing the diversity of people in places, even (especially?) in parts of the world that we think are broadly familiar. There is diversity and pride in culture and history in every corner of the world and, in an important sense, everywhere is a corner.
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