With each passing week the rhetoric between the Baltic states and Russia is worsening. Above and beyond the latent tension that normally exists between the two sides, and has over the past 14 years since the three countries acquired independence, the upcoming commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the fall of Nazi Germany has been added to the equation. Russia's leadership wants Baltic leaders to attend the ceremonies, but naturally the latter are inclined to refuse. Latvia's Vaira Vike-Freiberga has already accepted.
The resulting quandary has given rise to an examination of history and perceptions, particularly in Latvia, where the recent publication of a book on the country's 20th century history has coincided with the Kremlin's invitation. It seems that not a day goes by without a local paper running a story on the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact, Salaspils or the book itself (the Russian language version of which, by the way, is selling like pankukas). Vike-Freiberga is actively promoting the publication 's she even gave a copy of the book to Vladimir Putin at the recent Auschwitz-liberation ceremony 's and Russia's politicians and press are no less energetically refuting the book's contents.
In this type of atmosphere, frustration is inevitable, and has spilled over. On a recent television program discussing Baltic-Russian relations, Vike-Freiberga admitted that much of her cause 's convincing ethnic Russians that the Baltics were occupied 's was futile. "Of course, we won't convince, we won't change the conscience of those old Russians who on May 9 will put a fish [vobla in Russian] on a paper, drink vodka and sing folk songs and also remember how they heroically conquered the Baltics." The comment, laced with stereotypes, aroused a wave of criticism in Russia, much of it boiling down to the fact that the Latvian president is trying her utmost to "get uninvited" to the May 9 festivities.
Russia's Dmitry Rogozin, leader of the pro-Kremlin Rodina party and a person who is increasingly beginning to sound like Vladimir Zhirinovsky (the two men, by the way, loathe each other), hit back last week. He said he was willing to go to great lengths to prevent the Latvian president from making it to the ceremonies. "We are ready for mass actions, even obstructing traffic in the roads where her car will be driving. The purpose will be to prevent the Latvian president from participating in the festivities because of her pro-Nazi views and declarations."
No one can say how long this kind of talk will continue. It is quite possible that it will peak in the lead-up to Victory Day. It would be better, however, if everyone took a deep breath and calmed down. That's a lot to ask considering that, for many people, "history is everything," but it would be a shame if come May 9 a foul-mouthed Russian nationalist or two were to lose some of their appendages.
