As Latvia's foreign minister in the years immediately before and after independence, most Latvians give Janis Jurkans a lot of credit for getting their country out of the Soviet empire. Since then, his leadership of the far-left faction For Human Rights in a Democratic Latvia has often seen him accused of trying to drag the country back to those dark ages.
But it quickly becomes clear that simple labels don't fit this man with a treasure chest of cul™tural perspectives.
Our lunch venue is Traktieris bistro, Riga's only genuine Russian restaurant that has earned a loyal following for its delicious cuisine and warm atmosphere. It seemed a fitting location to meet the man who has made defending the rights of Latvia's ethnic minorities, usually clumped together as "Russian-speakers," the cornerstone of his political faith.
Perhaps his convictions come from his being something of a minority himself. Although he says Latvia is his one true homeland, and speaks the tongue at home, Polish is the nationality inscribed in his passport. The Jurkans' ancestors moved to Daugavpils in the east of Latvia in the 18th century, and he inherited their language and Catholic faith. He also speaks German and impeccable English, in which he has read so widely as to put most native anglophones to shame. Favorite author? Hemingway, not just for his literary qualities but because to Jurkans his life epitomized what it means to be a "real man." He also loves Irish writers like Oscar Wilde, James Joyce and George Bernard Shaw, whose Catholic background he finds readily accessible. And no, he was never a communist and claims to have been a regular at Mass long before glasnost made this a comfortable choice.
The music he loves is American, mostly rock, blues and country. He claims being able to converse about Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash helped break down barriers when he visited Western leaders in the early 90s, who, he admits were somewhat mystified at encountering a "Polish Latvian."
Those were heady days when Latvia's foreign minister was dealing with the question of his country's very existence. In January 1991 Jurkans became the first Latvian politician to step inside 10 Downing Street and a groundbreaking meeting with Francois Mitterand followed shortly after.
He said that by agreeing to receive him at the White House in 1990 George Bush sent an important signal to Moscow about Latvia's independence. But despite the welcome attention he believes U.S. leaders pinned all their hopes on propping up the man they believed was the best hope for stability in the USSR.
"Bush was obsessed with Gorbachev. Bush and Scowcroft would do nothing to undermine Gorbachev's role in the Soviet Union," he said.
Asked whether the Clinton administration hasn't been playing a similar game with Boris Yeltsin, only to see their man let them down, Jurkans said it was ever thus with U.S. foreign policy and always would be. He thinks keeping Russia's nuclear arsenal in safe hands is America's primary concern today.
This Washington visit also secured his Western links in a much more personal way because it was then that he met his American-Latvian wife. But long before, he had some strong ties with the East as well. Three years in the Soviet army left him with a love of the Russian language.
"Russians have a rich and expressive culture. I respect their culture like I respect the others that I know," he said.
With his persistent advocacy of automatic citizenship for non-Latvians, easing of language regulations, and close ties with Moscow politicians, particularly the liberal Grigory Yavlisnky, many Latvians think his Russophilia has gone too far. Not surprisingly, Jurkans disagrees, claiming that his policies are true to the inclusive nature of the Popular Front that secured independence. In the late 80s minorities were promised a full place in society but found themselves shut out after 1991, he believes.
It's time to focus on the present rather than the past, he thinks, and constantly reopening historical wounds, and treating Russian-speakers as hostile occupants, will not help Latvia get NATO and EU membership. His party supports these objectives, a position which Jurkans thinks proves its pro-Latvia credentials.
"We have to draw a curtain - no Kononov, no Kalejs, its all in the past," he said.
However, many Latvians wonder what lengths they must go to to assuage the dissatisfaction of many ethnic Russians. Over the last few years citizenship requirements have been dramatically eased and language laws softened, although Jurkans claims this was done only under Western pressure. Still, Moscow's torrent of abuse about human rights violations in Latvia continues, and relatively few non-citizens are making their way down to the passport office.
What can be done with people who will not make any effort to integrate?
Jurkans admitted that, "a large part of my electorate would like to be living in the Soviet Union again." Asked whether he feels comfortable about this, he snapped back that he considered the mere suggestion to be "insulting," a reaction which seems to indicate some mixed feeling on the question.
Nevertheless, he sees no reason to change his political course. After all, he readily admits that since the bulk of new voters in coming years will be naturalized Russian-speakers, his party has a winning formula. Meanwhile, he said all of his faction's meetings are held in the Latvian language. And if leadership means taking responsibility, then the more enlightened sections of Latvian society have to take the initiative in healing the ethnic divide.
"I want to live in a normal, democratic society, and that is impossible if a quarter of the population have no normal political rights. If we speak about the need to integrate the country, they have to feel they belong here," he said. Whatever way his polices are phrased, they have until now ensured that the Human Rights faction is a full-time occupant of the opposition benches. Jurkans says this doesn't worry him, and claimed he has no further political ambitions after already having "been at the top." He sees his role as nurturing his younger political allies, and wants to spend his free time playing tennis. And not as a foreign minister or diplomat, because during his previous stint he spent so much time on the road, 160 days out of 365 in one year, he counted, that now he just wants to stay at home.
And home, says Jurkans, is Latvia.
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