Kari Alenius

The Birth of Cultural Autonomy in Estonia: How, Why, and for Whom?

The 1925 law on cultural autonomy of minorities guaranteed Estonias most significant minorities the right to independently decide how they wanted to arrange their own national-cultural matters. In this article I will focus on why Estonia decided to pass a law that was exceptional in the atmosphere of that time. To find an answer, it is necessary also to analyze how (through what process) the law was shaped and for whom the law was ultimately intended. In summary, it can be said that there were about ten factors, which were different, yet interconnected and similar in their impact, and only together did they provide sufficient impetus to make it possible to approve autonomy.

Under the conflicting pressures of the ideals of the era and the burdens of history: Ethnic relations in Estonia, 1918–1925

Abstract One of the many challenges that Estonia faced when it gained independence was the minority question. The history of certain minorities, above all that of the Baltic Germans, has already been studied fairly intensively. Nevertheless, the scope of all previous studies has been rather narrow (the position of a single minority). This article traces the history of all ethnic minorities in Estonia and views them from a broader perspective. Answers are sought to the following questions: What were the ethnic relations like in Estonia in 1918–1925? Why were they so? Did they change in the course of time? The article is based on the systematic study of Estonian press and archival sources. It constitutes an expanded version of the conclusion of the authors Finnish-language monograph Ajan ihanteiden ja historian rasitteiden ristipaineissa: Viron etniset suhteet vuosina 1918–1925.

UNIFICATION WITH SWEDEN, AUTONOMY, FEDERAL SELF‐GOVERNMENT?: The dilemma of the Swedish minority of Estonia during the period between the World Wars

Various alternatives for arrangements for the situation of Estonian Swedes arose during Estonias independence phase. This paper concentrates on examining the activity of the Swedish Estonian political elite, in particular, and the discourse about the matter. The study focuses on the early 1920s, when the matter was discussed the most among the Estonian Swedes. The Swedes finally decided to only settle for the lower level opportunity of self‐government, although their earlier declared ambitions had been much higher. The deciding factor for the Estonian Swedish elite seems to have been that over the years they had gotten used to the fact that the average Swede was quite unwilling to take an active part in national‐minded activities and their financial support.

Dealing with the Russian population in Estonia, 1919–1921

Latlased ja tsuhnaad: kohalikud ja voorad Liivi soja aegses Eestis ja Latis. Latyshi and Chukhontsy: locals and strangers in Estonia and Latvia during the Livonian War (1558–1582)Discussion about the Russians of Estonia was closely related to the Tartu Peace Treaty (signed in February 1920) and its consequences. As a result of the treaty, Estonia obtained a new zone on its eastern border with the majority of population there being Russians with little connection to Estonia. In addition, Estonia had some 20,000 recent Russian refugees, and approximately the same number of Russians were living already in Estonia.1 For as long as the war against Soviet Russia had been ongoing, Estonia’s decision-makers had been able to postpone the resolving of the situation with the eastern areas and their inhabitants. In the beginning of 1920, this changed. Soon after the Tartu Peace Treaty, Estonia’s government decided to integrate the eastern areas – the “won lands” – with the rest of Estonia as closely as possible.2 Another reason why the discussion around Russians was suddenly increasing was that until the year 1920, the Russian question had been overshadowed by issues with the Germans. Becoming free of the German occupation, the land reform, and the Landeswehr war in 1918–1919 had kept the Germans in the political spotlight. However, by the summer of 1920, all German issues had been more or less resolved. Their aspirations for political power had been defeated and their financial privileges had been abolished.3 However, with Russians the situation was more complex and remained unresolved. What made the situation even more difficult was that Estonia was now dealing with a greater number of people; there were almost five times more Russians than Germans living in Estonia. The Russian areas on the eastern border – the Petseri region and the area behindAlthough the history of wages belongs to the oldest themes in social and economic history, it is still an exciting field of research.1 Workers’ wage rates and standards of living remain central questions in economic history. Besides measuring living standards, wage series have been used to research conditions in the labour markets. A third major field of interest centres upon the connection between wages and productivity. Recent Estonian historical scholarship has shown little interest in the above-mentioned topics. This paper is an attempt to bridge this gap by examining agricultural workers’ wage patterns in Estland during the period of “modernisation”, based upon earlier research as well as my own wage and price data. The first task of this article is to produce nominal regional and national agricultural wage indices per annum from 1887 to 1913 on the basis of available published wage information, and to examine wage trends and regional differentials. Second, the article explores the extent and persistence of the urban-rural wage gap. The real urbanagriculture wage gap has traditionally been considered a crucial variable in determining whether labour markets are integrated or segmented.2 InThe Brotherhoods of the Black Heads – confraternities of journeyman and foreign merchants – which were active in three large Livonian Hanse towns, have repeatedly been the subject of scholarly studies since the nineteenth century.1 Due to the availability of sources, the research has concentrated on Tallinn (German Reval) and Riga, because the archives of the Black Heads in Tartu (Dorpat) have not been preserved. The brotherhoods in Tallinn and Riga, first noted in sources in 1400 and 1413, respectively, chose mendicant churches as their main religious centres: in Tallinn, the St Catherine’s church of the Dominicans, and in Riga, the St Catherine’s church of the Franciscans. Strong connections with the mendicants continued for more than a century, until the Reformation events in 1524 and the subsequent dissolution of the friaries. The relations between the Black Heads and the mendicants have been touched upon in several studies, especially in overviews of the histo-Exchange control is generally managed by the national bank. Exporters have to transfer all of their earnings from foreign exchange to the national bank. The national bank considers different factors in redistributing foreign exchange among importers. After the devaluation of the British pound in the autumn of 1931, cash cover for Estonia’s currency decreased rapidly. The leaders of monetary policy ignored the statutes of the National Bank of Estonia and urgently decided to implement exchange control. The implementation of exchange control did not go very smoothly during its first years. Hurried implementation and lack of preceding explanation caused problems for entrepreneurs and citizens who were in need of foreign exchange. At first there was a great deal of dissension between the National Bank of Estonia and the Ministry of Economic Affairs. The ministry issued import licenses to importers but often the National Bank did not want to sell them any foreign currency (to be used to pay for goods) regardless of their legitimate licenses. The bank’s rationale for this course of action was the low level of cash cover for Estonia’s currency. This fact confirms the opinion prevalent in previous historiography that in its first years, exchange control was implemented for monetary policy purposes. Exchange control influenced almost everybody who needed to use foreign currency. Reasons had to be given even for the purchase of smaller amounts of foreign exchange. After the devaluation of Estonia’s currency in the summer of 1933, exchange control was used to protect the interests of Estonian foreign trade. The Ministry of Economic Affairs and the National Bank started collaborating more efficiently. National Bank Exchange Commission decisions approving exchange applications demonstrate this as well. The commission accepted almost all applications for foreign exchange after the devaluation. The number of applications nearly doubled during the second half of the 1930s. Cash cover for Estonia’s currency increased and the National Bank’s exchange policy became more liberal. After the devaluation, one of the important criteria for giving foreign exchange to importers was the trade balance between the source country and Estonia. Preference was given to traders who imported goods from countries with which Estonia had a positive trade balance. Comparison of export and import in the 1930s shows that in general, Estonia managed to maintain its trade balance. At the same time, exchange control had a negative effect on incentives. In countries where exchange control was implemented, trade volume recovered more slowly in the latter half of the 1930s than in countries where it was not implemented.Th e claim that history is governed by geography, that history is geography set in motion – or that history, plain and simple, is geography – resounds ever more powerfully the more we refl ect on the early modern world in Northeastern Europe.1 Seemingly almost every development in this region during the early modern period can be explained by using geographical parameters. Geography is a wonderful tool – it allows us to leave the strict confi nes of specifi c and, in most cases, separate academic disciplines and to wade into a world characterized by the ebb and fl ow of convergences and disruptions. Instead of viewing this world in a set and rather infl exible manner, we can bring to the fore terms such as proximity, borrowing, accommodation, and kinship between various social and linguistic groups and political formations. Geography, in other words, allows us to reconfi gure this world that we are accustomed to viewing in a set, rather infl exible manner. Another maxim that underscores the signifi cance of geography is “location is everything”. Th ough derived from the realm of real estate, it is of relevance for anyone who tries to come to terms with the world in the pre-electronic age. Location is also one of the key terms for geography. By defi ning and delineating location, we are able to draw maps, chart trends, and discern congruency and discrepancy. Th e geography that has been deemed important for the early history of the university in Tartu (Dorpat) has most frequently been confessional and political – viewing its development and discerning its constituent elements against the background of the struggle for hegemony that so poignantly has defi ned seventeenthcentury history in this region.This article deals with the problem of weight units in medieval Livonia. The local weight system was based on the Riga silver mark of around 208 g and consisted of the pound (= 2 silver marks), the lispound, that is, the Livonian pound (= 20 mark pounds) and the shippound (=20 lispounds). In the early fifteenth century, a shippound weighed about 159 kg in Riga and 159.5 kg in Tartu. Significant changes took place during the fifteenth century and since 1460 at the latest (in Narva since 1470), a shippound varied from about 163 kg (in Tallinn) to about 173 kg (in Parnu). It is probable that no more fluctuations in its weight took place and the system was maintained until the end of the medieval period in Livonia (app. 1560). KEYWORDS: Middle Ages, Livonia, weight system.Supplicating was an instrument for communicating the will of ordinary people to the rulers. This article explores how the Livonian state peasants could forward their wishes to governing authorities. In the Baltic provinces, where there was no institutionalized political representation or participation of peasants in the legislative process, supplications, complaints, and petitions were almost the only legally-accepted means at the disposal of the peasants to inform the authorities of conditions that in their opinion needed to be addressed. Following the newer trends in the agrarian history that focus on social practices rather than legal norms, this article concentrates on the actual practice of how peasants used their legal right to appeal and attempts to assess their effectiveness. The better (economic) position of state peasants in comparison to their peers living on private manors can be associated with state control over the situation of state peasants, which presupposed a possibility to forward supplications and requests to government authorities in order to limit the powers of manor lords. Recent decades have seen an increasing interest in the written expressions of common people.1 Different kinds of petition-like documents enable historians to hear the voices of the “silent masses”.2 Secondly, petitions have enjoyed special attention from many historians as a means of influencing the making of policy and the enactment of legislation. It has been concluded that ordinary people were eminently capable of shaping their own history.3Turning water bodies into inland waterways by using canals has been a part of historical communication and logistics. The waterways have been established for several reasons: first, to ensure a free and faster movement of bulk goods between a market place and its hinterland (sometimes mainland roads could even be absent); second, to ensure the transport and distribution of goods during harsh times via neutral territories. The construction of canals was closely related to political rivalry and economic competition between towns and regions. In addition, there are natural circumstances like water level, climatic impact, etc. to be considered. In the context of trade history, the economic areas of the Hanseatic League knew several important inland waterways, which connected large trade centres and regions by clearing and expanding rivers, connecting them and turning them navigable. Two canals played a crucial role in the Hanseatic trade. One was established by the Teutonic Order at the end of the fourteenth century and the beginning of the fifteenth century between the River Pregel (Russ. Преголя; Lith. Prieglius) and the Curonian Lagoon, where the Memel and its tributaries were accessed. The canal facilitated the expansion of the economic influence of Gdansk (Danzig) and Kaliningrad (Königsberg) since it was a gateway for Lithuanian goods. The Stecknitz Canal was even more prominent, flowing into the Trave and thus connecting it with the Delvenau, the tributary of the Elbe. A connection between Lübeck and Hamburg or the Baltic Sea and the North Sea was established. The relevant canal with locks was built in 1390–98 with the main purpose of transporting salt from Lüneburg to Lübeck. It was possible to transport other heavy goods as well, mostly wine, from the Elbe to the Trave and vice versa. The Stecknitz Canal was particularly important during the wars when vessel traffic on the Danish straits stopped. The problem of the Ajalooline Ajakiri, 2009, 3/4 (129/130), 425–446Th e Baltic question in inter-Allied relations, 1941-1942 (part II) Th e fi rst part of this article studied the rise of the Baltic question in British-Soviet relations in December 1941 and the subsequent discussions in Britain over the fate of the Baltic States. Th e second part, published in this issue, examines the position and activities of Baltic diplomats in London and Washington in 1941-42, the American attitude towards the AngloSoviet bargain, the British decision to concede the Baltic States and the eventual outcome of the Anglo-Soviet negotiations. Th e article argues that, although neither Britain nor the United States recognized the illegal annexation of the Baltic States, their actual support to the Baltic States depended on the national interests of these countries. Th e British government was bent on politically isolating the Baltic embassies in order to retain a free hand in foreign aff airs. For this reason the Foreign Offi ce was not allowed to discuss political matters with the Baltic diplomats. Th e British also isolated the Baltic embassies in terms of publicity on Baltic and Soviet aff airs, so as not to be subjected to pressure by the public. As a result, the space for action was limited for Baltic diplomats. Th e situ Probleemi üle on arutatud artiklis Lawrence Juda, “United States’ non-recognition of the Soviet Union’s annexation of the Baltic States: politics and law”, Journal of Baltic Studies, 6:4 (1975), 272–290. 2007-2(120).indb 189 10.07.2007 1:10:46 190 Ajalooline Ajakiri 2007, 2 (120) ation in America was more favourable for the Baltic diplomats. Th e U.S. Government allowed the Baltic representatives to use the frozen credits of their countries to run their embassies. Th ey could also express their views on the Baltic and Soviet aff airs publicly, so American support of the Baltic States transcended the mere recognition of their continuing existence. Since the Baltic States could exert no infl uence on British policies, their main hope was to persuade the U.S. to veto British plans. Th eir ally in this was the Polish government in exile, which had recognized the threat that the Anglo-Soviet agreement would pose to their national interests. Although there was some support within the Polish community in exile for a deal with Moscow, so that Estonia and Latvia would join the USSR and Lithuania would join Poland, this idea was defeated. It was decided that the Polish government had to defend the principle that the Soviet frontiers of 1941 were illegitimate. An Anglo-Soviet deal over the Baltic States would have prejudiced this principle and thus weakened the Polish position with regard to the Soviet Union. Th e Polish government, therefore, launched a campaign against the Anglo-Soviet treaty, which had limited success in the United States but caused resentment among the British. Th is article studies why the United States gave support to the Baltic States and opposed the British deal with the Soviet Union in 1942. Th e reason for this is not that President Roosevelt had genuine interest in the independence of small states on the Baltic. In fact, as later years showed, he did not care much for the geographical details of Eastern Europe. He had contempt for British plans because he believed that the minor questions the British seemed to be obsessed with would not have lasting importance. As long as he was not able to come to an agreement with Stalin personally on these larger principles, he adopted the view of the State Department: that the Anglo-Soviet bargain violated the Atlantic Charter and the principle of national self-determination. However, the Americans could not persuade the British to drop the plan, nor had they any infl uence on the Soviet decision to drop territorial claims, as they wished to believe then and later on. Th is article examines anew why Moscow decided to drop territorial demands and sign a treaty with the British without reference to frontiers. Th us far historians have thought that Moscow’s diplomatic turn was triggered by the Red Army’s military defeats at the time of Molotov’s visit to London and the recognition that Moscow would need Western military assistance. For this reason, it is argued, they had more incentive to observe 2007-2(120).indb Sec1:190 10.07.2007 1:10:46 191 Kaarel Piirimäe: Balti küsimus 1941–42 American susceptibilities with regard to their territorial claims. Th is article demonstrates that the Soviet diplomatic turn was induced by two factors. Firstly, the Soviet military defeats probably changed Stalin’s perspectives for the future. Th e end of the war with Germany was put off into an unforeseeable future, thus rendering Western guarantees to Soviet frontiers useless for the time being. If Stalin had been hoping to use Western guarantees as a trump card in the negotiations for an armistice or peace, with Germany separately or with all sides, this prospect was suspended by Germany’s victories in war. Secondly, Moscow did not recognize British interests in the dispute over Poland’s eastern border, which Moscow regarded as exclusively a Polish-Soviet aff air. Th e British insisted that the Anglo-Soviet deal over the Baltic States must include a clause that it did not aff ect the Polish question. Stalin could not accept this. Stalin had possibly learned from intelligence reports that the British were prepared to give way on the Polish question, which explains the obstinacy of Molotov in London. As Stalin saw that British concession was not forthcoming and the Red Army’s defeats changed the outlook for the future, he accepted the British proposal for a treaty of mutual assistance and friendship. As a conclusion, this article points out that although the British did not recognize Soviet claims to the Baltic States formally in the treaty, during the negotiations they had acquiesced to the strength of Soviet claims. Th ey had expressed willingness to recognize the Baltic States as part of the USSR, so the British maintained that they could not do anything for the Baltic States aft er the war. But it was also recognized in London that the concession with regard to the Baltic States had weakened British powers of leverage towards Soviet expansionism in Eastern Europe in general. Th e article also suggests that in the following years the American policy towards the Baltic question moved closer to the British. Publicly, the Western allies continued to recognize the independence of the Baltic States, yet in private talks they acquiesced to the Soviet point of view. As the Allies were able to agree on the Baltic question, it is surprising that the Western allies did not accord formal recognition to the Soviet annexation of the Baltic States, and so the Baltic problem remained unsettledTh ere were intellectual dynamics in the seventeenth century that derived from a certain prevalence of theology in that time. In the last decades of the sixteenth and in the fi rst half of the seventeenth century, at least in the territories of the Holy Roman Empire and in Northern Europe, philosophy was closely connected to theology. Th e second half of the seventeenth century was widely dominated by juridical thought. It was not until the beginning of the eighteenth century that philosophy, in its enlightened form, took over the key role in academic discourses. Th e University of Tartu (Dorpat) was established in 1632, just in the middle of this development. It lay at the periphery of Northeastern Europe, and the times were tumultuous. Th e Swedish king Gustav Adolf signed the foundation document “in meinem Lager in Nürnberg” on 30 June 1632, four months before his death in the battle of Lützen. Sweden had become the leading power in the Baltic Sea – and Estland and Livland played an important role in this context. In 1561, nobility of Estland subjected itself to the King of Sweden. Th ey hoped to escape the Polish (and later the Russian) political claims for their territory; however they simply turned from Polish to Swedish dependency. Th is was also a decision for the Lutheran confession and against the Catholic Reform aft er the Council of Trent. Livland was added to the Swedish realm aft er long struggles with Poland; Riga was conquered in 1621 and Tartu in 1625. In the case of Tartu, this entailed the rejection of the Jesuits who, in the course of the Catholic Reform aft er the Council of Trent, had established a gymnasium in 1583 in the very building in Tartu which later became the evangelical university. Th e new “university” was in fact an academic gymnasium modeled aft er the then-famous Hohe Schule in Herborn (Hessen-Nassau, Germany), which, in the last two decades of the sixteenth century, had become the prototype of the reformed academies both in the Calvinist and Lutheran territories.1 In Herborn, the new pedagogical and encyclopedicThe future of the past – this was the philosophical point of view used by Helmi Uprus decades ago in interpreting manorial architecture, when the first summaries were compiled on the inventories of manors.1 The survival and preservation of cultural heritage involve topics which occasionally become clear only after a certain period of time, in hindsight, and where the future can sometimes be quite contradictory because of radical changes in society. By the mid-1970s, the temporal distance had become sufficient to tackle the topic of manors as cultural memory in real time and place, i.e. it was possible to seek out values that had been neglected for some reason and thus forgotten. Various painful aspects related to manors had lost their edge and manor houses had become a topic of architectural history. By the last quarter of the 20th century, about three generations had passed since manorial life ended2. During that time, emotions had cooled and ownership relations had changed. Manors now seemed like a distant romantic world, where our ancestors were busy as well, although mostly in the role of coachmen and cooks. World War I and the subsequent revolutions disrupted the continuity of manorial life, both politically and economically, and caused chaos in the way of life. The newly established Republic of Estonia and the

US policy in the Nordic-Baltic region: during the Cold War and after

The book is divided into two parts. The first part deals with the Cold War period and the second part examines the period after the ColdWar. The author first sheds light on military issues in chronological order and then focuses on political questions. Although this unavoidably causes some repetition in both parts – for instance, in the case of Greenland (pp. 22 and 40) and in the comparison between Sweden and Finland (pp. 76 and 96–97) – the structure is mainly functional. All the chapters are quite well written: it is easy for the reader to follow the author’s argumentation and attain a clear overview of the historical development. The author’s intent is to just present a compact overview (or a concise study of longterm development) in her book. She discusses the role that the Nordic–Baltic region has played in US strategy in the 60 years since the end of World War II. Taking into account the limited number of pages, it may certainly be said that the author has succeeded well. It is thus also understandable that many problems and details that might be interesting could not be explored exhaustively. On the other hand, some questions that are not only interesting but also of crucial importance have hardly been touched upon. For instance, the United States’ perceptions of the Nordic and Baltic countries’ military and political ability to resist Russian invasion and the subsequent US plans for countermeasures are only hinted at in one or two sentences. The book is mainly based on secondary literature. The bibliography consists of the most essential recent studies of US policy towards the Nordic and Baltic countries and serves as a good introduction to existing research in the field. A few additions might have been useful – for instance, Jussi Hanhimäki’s Scandinavia and the United States (1997) – but in general the bibliography is sufficient. In a number of cases the author also refers to primary sources, which naturally confirms the reliability of the analysis and makes it transparent. In some cases the author perhaps uses her literary sources a little too sparingly. This is seen in the fact that the book contains almost no analysis of possible competing interpretations among researchers in the field. If the author’s conclusion is that no scholarly disputes exist, she nevertheless fails to explicitly mention it. In any case, despite minor shortcomings Ann-Sofie Dahl’s book is a good work that can be recommended to anyone interested in the key trends of US policy towards the Nordic–Baltic region.