Here’s a doctoral dissertation waiting to be written. Thousands of Latvians—perhaps 20,000 and growing—are now living and working in Ireland. Despite the astonishing number, Ireland has no latviešu biedrība, no Latvian society, and seemingly little structure to social and cultural life. But that could be about to change.

Ireland’s first Latvian school opened May 29 in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Ireland in the capital city of Dublin. The school, which initially will meet once a month, could spark greater interest in forming a Latvian society.

Irish government statistics say about 2,300 Latvians live and work in the country. Ivars Lasis, the first secretary in the Embassy of Latvia in Dublin, puts the number at almost 10 times as many, and says more are coming every day.

“In principle, all of Ireland is scattered with Latvians,” Lasis said. Many are in Dublin, but they also are found in the southern city of Cork, in the northern city of Donegal and throughout the countryside.

Before Latvia regained independence, Ireland never had a strong Latvian community. It was not a favored destination for the Displaced Persons after World War II. Even the veclatvieši, the Old Latvians who for economic and political reasons left their homeland in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, avoided the Emerald Isle. Vilberts Krasnais, who in his 1938 book Latviešu kolōnijas catalogued Latvian communities the world over, didn’t even mention Ireland.

About 10 pupils, ranging in age from 2 to 12, were expected to show for the first day of school, teacher Ramona Āboliņa said by telephone from Dublin. She and the other teacher, Jolanta Šmite, both have pedagogical training. The mother of a 6-year-old girl, Āboliņa moved to Ireland three years ago to be with her husband. She said she has 12 years of experience working in a Latvian preschool.

The first day of school probably will last about two hours, Āboliņa said. How the curriculum will unfold will be determined by the needs of the pupils and the wishes of the parents. But clearly a main focus will be preservation of Latvian language and traditions, she said.

“Everything here is foreign to them,” Āboliņa said.

Whereas new immigrants to countries such as the United States and Canada often find Latvian community life to be quite advanced, those in Ireland are starting from scratch. The school is the initiative of the embassy, Lasis said. It’s the second attempt to organize the social and cultural life of the thousands of ethnic Latvians in Ireland: The first Lutheran church service for Latvians was conducted in December in Dublin.

“We have this idea that there ought to be a (Latvian) society,” Lasis said. “The school is the first step.”

The school is scheduled to meet next on June 26. Anyone interested in the school should contact the embassy by telephone at +353 1 662 16 10 or by e-mail at embassy.ireland@mfa.gov.lv.

Latvian President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga is playing for high stakes. She took everyone by surprise in January when she announced her decision to attend the May 9 celebration in Moscow marking the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II—and specifically the Soviet role in Adolf Hitler’s downfall.

In the face of long-standing concerns about Baltic unity, she seemingly had not consulted either of the other two Baltic countries in this decision. Subsequently, both Estonia’s and Lithuania’s presidents have decided they will not attend. Domestically, her decision also aroused controversy. Five ears ago, all three Baltic presidents did not attend the 55th anniversary celebrations in Moscow, and public opinion in all three countries has always been strongly against participation.

But more than this, she also used the occasion of her acceptance to launch what must be seen as Latvia’s most pointed and, we may cautiously surmise, best received diplomatic initiative in its nearly 15 years of regained independence. Along with accepting the invitation to participate in Moscow, she issued strong statements detailing Latvia’s stance to this celebration—that the end of the Nazi regime in 1945 brought in turn the beginning of a brutal occupation by the Soviet Union that was to last 50 years. Vīķe-Freiberga urged those attending the celebration to recognise this fact and view the celebrations accordingly.

The smiles on Russian faces for her “wise” decision (as the Kremlin put it) to attend on May 9 froze when the full text of her message sank in, and since then she has pointedly repeated her remarks as she continues a strong campaign to make sure her participation in Moscow cannot be interpreted as acquiescence in the glorification of Soviet victory.

The risks of this strategy were clear. Going against Baltic unity was the first criticism. Her decision rankled both Estonia and Lithuania, which appeared to be caught totally off guard. Secondly, there was no guarantee that her comments on the celebrations would be even heard, much less heeded, by the heads of all other European countries attending on May 9. Latvia’s voice, for all its new status in the European Union and the NATO defense alliance, remains marginal. Thirdly, there was no guarantee that her stance would have any effect upon Moscow at all. And finally, she was clearly setting what she saw as Latvia’s best interests against a strong view in the public that the Moscow celebration should be boycotted.

However—significantly—Moscow was affected and the subsequent brouhaha has seen increasing support for Latvia’s position. Russia’s President Vladimir Putin immediately went on the counterattack, marked most clearly at the 60th celebrations of the liberation of Auschwitz, where he railed against any attempt to draw parallels between Nazi and Soviet behaviour by those who would “rewrite history.” An equally strong denunciation came when at a subsequent meeting Vīķe-Freiberga presented him with a book on Latvian history. The Kremlin used this again to attack Latvia’s attempted reinterpretation of history.

Latvia’s offensive clearly had got under Russian’s skin. And there were encouraging statements of support from several other European countries, including Poland, Ireland and even France, a country not always keen to criticise its former ally, Russia. While Germany, as ever, remains unmoved, the support for Latvia’s stance marks a decided shift in European attitudes, helped in great measure by the increasing signs of Russian authoritarianism both internally and externally over the past year, fears for democracy in that country, and a string of democratising revolutions—in Georgia, in Ukraine and now almost unbelievably in Kirghizstan—that have exposed Russia’s constant meddling in its “near abroad.” In politics, as in comedy, timing is everything, and Latvia’s stance on the May 9 celebrations has come in a receptive environment.

The recent announcement that U.S. President George W. Bush will visit Latvia on May 6-7 has been seen by Latvian commentators as ultimate vindication of Vīķe-Freiberga’s strategy. Bush’s visit will come just two days before the May 9 celebrations in Moscow (which Bush will also attend) and this is seen as sending a strong message to Russia that the United States understands and supports Latvia’s position.

Bush’s interest in appearing in Latvia immediately before the Moscow celebrations also is seen as direct reward for the Latvian government’s unstinting support for Bush on several issues, including the wars on Afghanistan and Iraq and issues of terror, despite local public opinion being less in favour of such initiatives.

However, other factors are also at play. Bush has been keen to exploit the support of Eastern European countries, what U.S. Defence Secretary Donald Rumsfeld called “New Europe,” against the perceived anti-Americanism of several Western European countries, or “Old Europe.” Bush is still broadly reviled in Western Europe, and ambivalently viewed even in parts of Eastern Europe, so Latvia’s closeness to him may well not be favourably viewed by others in Europe.

Moreover, President Arnold Rüütel of Estonia had also invited Bush. Estonia is the only one of the three Baltic countries that has not had a U.S. presidential visit. Bush’s pointed preference for Latvia may be reward for its participating in Moscow on May 9, and dislike of Estonia’s boycotting. For the United States, relations with Russia are far more important than with the Baltic states, whatever temporary use can be made of Baltic issues to gain leverage.

And while Bush’s visit will give some focus to Baltic concerns, the controversies surrounding Bush will ensure a host of other issue from wars to trade to the environment will dog the visit. Indeed, for the press outside Europe the issue of Bush’s visit to Latvia will be far more about how many protests this attracts (against the Iraq war and much else) rather than about Baltic issues.

Finally, the curious way in which Vīķe-Freiberga acted alone and left her Baltic companions in the lurch has raised longer-term issues of the seeming impossibility of achieving Baltic unity on significant issues. We will see if Vīķe-Freiberga’s determined support for the United States puts her out on a limb with her own public, or if the Bush visit will be a political coup for her.

Jan. 13 marked the 100th anniversary of the massacre along the Daugava River in Rīga that sparked the 1905 Revolution in Latvia. During the past week, the event was recalled in a conference about the history of the revolution, several activities in the old city square (Rātslaukums) and a small and brief commemmoration at the spot where the massacre occurred.

Rather than being an important and unifying moment, the anniversary seems to have largely passed unnoticed, although the mass media did provide coverage. The evening television news programs gave only brief mention to the activities, which is understandable considering that cleanup from the Jan. 9 hurricane remained a top concern for much of western Latvia. The daily papers offered photographs and brief stories, and Diena provided a 12-page special section about 1905.

In the National Theater, Jan. 13 also saw the premiere of a play by Pauls Putniņš, “Aicinājums uz…pērienu” (Invitation to a Whipping), which deals with the choices people made in the aftermath of the first flames of the revolution.

Still, the anniversary should have garnered more attention.

Historians tell us the Jan. 13 massacre came at the culmination of a general strike in Rīga. The strike had been called to protest a Jan. 9 attack on demonstrators in St. Petersburg. As about 10,000 strikers gathered along the riverbank, soldiers—some of whom also were Latvians—opened fire. Seventy-three people died and about three times as many were wounded. As Diena noted in its special section, an unknown number of people also drowned when the ice gave way as they tried to flee onto the frozen river. Among the dead were mostly young Latvian men, but the fallen also included women and represented other ethnic groups such as Russians, Germans, Jews and Lithuanians. The youngest to die was a 14-year-old boy.

Fifty years ago, a classic Socialist Realist-style statue was erected on the spot. The Soviets, of course, interpreted the events of 1905 as a prelude to the worker’s paradise coming to fruition in Latvia.

Instead, as historians in the conference held at the War Museum reminded listeners, the 1905 Revolution was a signal that the Latvian nation was struggling to come alive. The revolution—which included terrorism on the part of Latvian revolutionaries and bloody “punitive expeditions” by Russian soldiers—failed to immediately overturn Russian imperial rule and German influence in Latvia. By the time activity subsided in 1906, thousands of Latvians had died or fled their homeland.

Conference participants also could view a small exhibit of photographs and documents about the revolution. Of particular interest to Latvians abroad might have been the all-too-spartan notes about Latvian political refugees who fled to western Europe, the United States, Canada and even Australia. One panoramic image showed a group of Latvian political exiles in 1908 somewhere in the Wisconsin woods.

Historians and politicians drew parallels between the events of 1905 (repeated throughout the Russian Empire) and the desires for freedom at other times and other places. As a brisk wind blew from the west across the Daugava to the spot where the massacre occurred, Latvian President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga and Lech Walesa, leader of the Solidarity movement during Poland’s break from the Communist rule, came to pay their respects. Both spoke of the longing for nations and peoples to be free.

Representatives of the Latvian Socialdemocratic Labor Party (Latvijas Sociāldemokrātiskā strādnieku partija, or LSDSP) brought two banners to remind those attending that it was their political organization that helped propel the revolution. The LSDSP, in fact, was Latvia’s first political party, formed in 1904.

(Noticeably absent from the event, in my opinion, was Rīga Mayor Gundars Bojārs. The mayor of the city in which such a momentous event occurred—and who himself is a socialdemocrat—should have been there.)

For Latvian social and cultural life outside of the homeland, the revolution brought both positives and negatives. The poltical refugees, some sent with the purpose of continuing to propagandize the revolution from abroad, brought renewed vigor to Latvian “colonies” around the world. In cities such as London, Boston, New York and Chicago, they created new publications and brought new energy to local theatre. But their increasingly radical tone also turned off many immigrants who wanted little to do with politics. In the United States, for example, Latvian social and cultural life by the 1920s was in rapid decline, even though some estimate that as many as 50,000 Latvian were in the country at the time.

The lives of the revolutionaries are all but forgotten outside of Latvia and, if the week’s events in Rīga were a guide, it won’t be long before they’re forgotten in Latvia, too.