|But how do you feel about Russians?|
"Olaf Palme - good or bad?" "Good, mostly. I mean his principles were good, but I didn't like how he carried himself, you know." "Carl Bildt - good or bad?" "He's not bad, but he's certainly not honest." "Ah, you mean like the financial investments?" "Yes, I don't trust him. He's always up to something."
Okay, fine. At some point when those around us heard our conversation, especially those parts concerning social democracy, one Estonian offered her support for the Estonian social democrats. Another announced her undying support for IRL. "Well, I have nothing against Russians," said the Estonian social democrat. "Not our Russians, the ones who live here." But the IRL supporter wasn't moved. There are still integration problems, she said. And I was holding my face in my hands, because this is Estonian political discourse.
Are Russians really the biggest political issue facing Estonia today? From what I have read, one fifth of the country lives in poverty. Unemployment is higher than 10 percent. But put a social democrat and a conservative together in a room and they talk about Russians.
One such "burning" issue is the pending merger of the Estonian social democrats and the Russian Party. The latter supposedly wants to table discussion on the Soviet Occupation and leave it to courts or historians or whomever, which prompted an outcry, because Occupation denial is the same as Holocaust denial ... or so the line goes.
That the Holocaust should rear its ugly head in this matter is rather interesting, and, I believe, telling. All of the issues that factor in the domestic debate about loyalty, citizenship, language, and nationality, are intertwined with postwar ideas of nationalism, among them collective guilt. There are righteous nations and guilty nations, all of whom are defined by what role their citizens played in the crime of the century. The Holocaust here is a metric of humanity: the Americans are naturally good, Hiroshima and Nagasaki aside, because they defeated the Third Reich. The Germans and their collaborators, including some Estonian nationals, are inherently bad, given the blood on their hands and in their veins. The only way out is to atone for the sins of your forebears. Atone and you will be set free.
I think collective guilt is at least partially based on totalitarian ideas, be they of the Nationalist Socialist persuasion or the Soviet one. How else could one explain the extermination of Jewish children or the deportation of relatives of "class enemies" to Siberia? Surely, Jewish children could have been raised Christian, or the children of class enemies turned into loyal party members ... but the central idea here is that being an enemy of the state is genetic: the Jewish children will grow into adult Jews, the children of class enemies will grow into class enemies themselves, so they had to be liquidated, one way or the other.
It's a ridiculous and racist idea if you think about it, but here in the present we've been gratuitously using collective guilt since 1945. It's been passed down, from generation to generation. Little do the little German babes born at this very moment in Osnabrück and Heidelberg and Potsdam know, but they are all guilty of something.
And that is what the Estonian Russians most fear: the stigma of being "occupiers" because their family was removed from Donetsk to Tallinn six decades ago. This is what troubles them about the 'O' word. It's not the legal question of what happened in Estonia in the summer of 1940, it's the shame of accepting the yoke of collective guilt in perpetuity.
I think the whole context for these ideas is flawed. There are no righteous nations and no evil ones. There are evil men who give orders to do evil things, but this is a matter of following orders rather than genetics. There is no Nazi or Commie gene. I don't think that Germans, as a people, are responsible for the crimes of their grandparents. I don't think that Estonians, as a people, are responsible for war crimes some of their forefathers committed, either in the service of the Führer or the Comrade or just for the hell of it.
Finally, I don't think that Russians, as a people, are responsible for what the leaders of their predecessor state decided. They may say it was wrong, as a moral judgment, but their guilt is no greater than yours or mine, because we are all related, no matter how distantly. This applies to national greatness too. I may be an American, but I didn't free the slaves and I didn't put a man on the moon. I didn't invent baseball or the personal computer any more than I dropped the bombs on Japan. Why should any of us should bear collective guilt or collective pride for anything we ourselves did not accomplish? I shouldn't blame a Japanese national for Pearl Harbor any more than I should congratulate him for writing Norwegian Wood or creating Nintendo. Just because he shares some ancestors with the men who did write Norwegian Wood or create Nintendo, does not mean he gets to take credit for their greatness. I didn't write The Sound and the Fury did I?
Here I am reminded of football games where the fans of the winning team sit around and congratulate each other: "Hey man, we won." I appreciate your loyalty to your teams. It is good to be loyal to something. But, unless you were on that team, you didn't really win anything. Likewise, the Russian Federation, founded in 1991, did not defeat fascism in Europe. This is a crap idea anyway. Franco was a facist. He was in power in Spain until 1975. Salazar ruled Portugal until 1974. So, Europe was not rid of fascism in 1945. The idea is bogus, propaganda, a myth. The Russians did not defeat fascism. Some of the dwindling numbers of veterans who fought for the Red Army did defeat nationalist socialist Germany, but Vladimir Putin, Sergei Lavrov, and the rest of the gang weren't alive and therefore defeated nothing. Someone should send a diplomatic cable to that effect.
Nationalism is a nice idea. In the collapse of the old multinational empires it became the only viable option, a Poland for the Poles, an Iceland for the Icelanders, a Montenegro for the Montenegrins. Imagine it: your own flag, your own official language, your own seat at the UN, your own bikini team! It's wonderful. But it has its limits. And in a country where one-tenth of the population has no job and one-fifth lives below the poverty line, it should definitely not be the dominant question in the public discourse.