It was not only because of the heat wave which held Southern Europe in its grip this summer that my husband and I turned north-east to visit two - Estonia and Latvia - of the three Baltic States. We were rather interested in gaining an unfiltered impression of how the people of these tiny states are coping with the presence of a belligerent Goliath they share a border with and the memory of having been subjugated for centuries. Belonging to neither of the predominant ethnic groups of the region – the Slavic and the German people - and having been dominated throughout history by foreign powers (a bit of a different story with Lithuania) these three peoples nevertheless maintained their culture, their vernaculars, their traditions, their heritage, in short: their identity, against all odds. Latvians and Lithuanians are the only survivors of a once larger group of “Baltic” people who over time all had become extinct whereas the Estonians belong to another minority, the Finno-Ugrians.
For the first time in their entire history, these three states enjoyed a short-lived independence between the two World Wars, to regain it only after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The past 35 years are therefore the longest stretch that these few million people have been masters of their own destiny. Will this give you a hint about their resilience, about their determination in case “big brother” will attack them, notwithstanding that they are now under the umbrella of NATO?
The Baltic states always considered themselves as the “door to the West”, and this was exactly the role the Russian Czars had assigned to them. Peter the Great – eager to modernize his country – had opened this door when in 1721 he pushed out the Swedes. Tallinn and Riga were even founded “from the West”, by Germans to be precise, in the early 1200s. Both cities swiftly became part of the “Hanseatic League” (the name survives in “Lufthansa”), the powerful transnational trade confederation of prosperous cities which stretched from Novgorod in the East to Cologne in the West and Cracow in the South, making it the dominating economic force in the region. This commercial network of at times up to 200 cities aimed at facilitating trade by reducing trade barriers, at standardizing trade regulations and at providing protection of trade routes. In short, international cooperation did exist hundreds of years ago, way before the ideas of European Union or WTO emerged. No, we didn’t invent the wheel as we sometimes fancy. Our forefathers were as smart and innovative as we contemporaries pretend to be.
While Tallinn seemed to be slightly more frozen in (medieval) time, Riga took a lively part in the industrial revolution and in the enormous economic upswing around the turn of the previous century. International investments – from UK, Germany, the Netherlands, even the USA - triggered a boom and the city, like New York City or Berlin, experienced an explosion in population around 1900. Soon, it counted among the 50 largest cities in the world. Within years, a Scottish-born mayor transformed Riga into a modern city with the newest infrastructure, with wide boulevards, expansive parks, adorned with impressive public building. The influx of population triggered a feverish construction boom and made Riga the city with the largest number – around 800 – of Art Nouveau buildings in the world. This was the visible manifestation of the progressive spirit of the city which ostentatiously opted for the “new” style, coming from France and Belgium, a clear signal that it looked forward and not to the past. In contrast: Berlin mushroomed at exactly the same time, but here one rarely finds an example of the “new” style. The imperial city indulged in an eclectic mix of architectural styles of the past.
The same spirit prevails nowadays in the Baltic capitals. Three decades after the Fall of Communism, we were stunned by the variety of outstanding modern buildings in both cities. To highlight only one: the modern National Library in Riga on the banks of the river Dvina which evokes the shape of a sailing boat. Parks are well groomed and dotted with numerous creative playgrounds. Sure, we stayed mainly in the capitals. We got, however, a glimpse of the countryside when we took the bus from Tallinn to Riga. This added another surprise: It was a luxury vehicle, equipped with all possible amenities. Riding smoothly on excellent roads we passed well-kept traditional wooden houses surrounded by luscious gardens bursting with flowers in all colors.
Did we experience only the glossy, the touristic side? How do ordinary people live, how do they cope with the growing tension across the border? Estonia soon became the most digitized country in Europe, being the birthplace of now retired “Skype” and of “Bolt”, the popular European answer to “Uber”, to mention only two of many ingenious enterprises originating in this tiny country of 1.3 million people. There is no lack of work, there are enough jobs available – however, the salaries don’t cover the costs. The average net monthly income is hovering around 1500 Euros (slightly less in Latvia) – but in Riga a flat of merely 50 m2 devores almost half of it. My husband needed some shaving foam, hence we entered an ordinary drugstore – which we left slightly shocked after finding out that the prices were equal to those in Berlin. No wonder young people without family want to try their luck abroad. At the same time, we were told, Baltic expats long to move back as soon as children arrive.
On the surface, life is bustling, restaurants and cafes are well frequented, but underneath one feels the tension without being able to precisely pinpoint it. Solidarity with Ukraine is unanimous and ostentatiously displayed: There is not a single public building without flying the Ukrainian flag. And one doesn’t have to understand the language to get the message when handwritten posters prominently display the photos of Putin’s nemesis Navalny. There is still a considerable percentage of ethnic Russians in both countries, Russian is being heard in the streets, but there doesn’t seem to be animosity between the ethnic groups. There even still exists a regular bus connection between Tallinn and St. Petersburg, being away only a five-hour drive.
Our knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide through Riga’s Art Nouveau district, a “cool” looking guy in his early forties, sporting a baseball cap and being fluent in English, concluded his talk: “I have never prayed before in my life, but now, each morning, I am praying. Not for myself, but for my country!” We got the underlying message: I will not only pray – I will defend my country. There is no doubt about the defiance, about the determination of the Baltic people to stand up to the neighbor in the east.

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