Three or four years ago, I read a science fiction novel written in 1924 by the Latvian author Gotfrīds Mīlbergs. The novel, set in the year 2107, begins with the new Russian Empire invading Latvia. Through a combination of advanced technology, stealth, the legendary prowess of the Latvian soldier and a certain degree of serendipity, the Latvian military manages to repulse the attackers.

But, continues the author of Sidrabota saule lec…, the Latvians don’t stop there. Their doggedness leads to the collapse of the Russian military and, by story’s end, Latvian soldiers are patrolling the streets of Moscow.

The NATO defense alliance, or something like it, was nowhere to be seen.

But this is science fiction—and fantasy. The reality is that against such a formidable foe Latvia and much of Eastern Europe could well crumble without military assistance from abroad.

The residents of Latvia know this. In the results of a survey released April 10 by the Latvian Foreign Ministry, 81.8 percent of those polled were sure that in the event of such a crisis, Latvia would not be able to defend itself. That’s why nearly 64 percent of those polled were positively oriented to Latvian membership in NATO.

That’s what I told an audience of students and faculty when I moderated a roundtable discussion in April at the University of Wisconsin – Eau Claire. The session, “The Security of East Europe and the Expansion of NATO,” was sponsored in part by the university’s Baltic Student Organization and also featured Professor Paulis Lazda, who teaches history at Eau Claire, and several international students including Sanita Kupča of Latvia.

I remain skeptical about the need for Latvia to join NATO. But during the past several weeks, my skepticism has begun to mellow, particularly now that Russian President Vladimir Putin has gotten cozy with NATO.

This November in Prague, 10 Eastern European nations are hoping they get to join the NATO alliance. Observers are confident the Baltic nations—Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania—will make the cut. And some are even forecasting that countries such a Romania, whose prospects earlier were dim, might get an invitation thanks in part to the “new world” in which we live since Sept. 11.

But can a country such as Latvia afford to bring its military up to a level desired by NATO—and maintain that level? Would NATO membership really guarantee that Russia or any other nation or movement would not attack Latvia? Is it the proper role of the United States, Canada and Western Europe to protect Eastern Europe—and from what?

On the other hand, why should Latvia trust Putin’s Russia? When Putin last November visited the United States, he suggested that Moscow would no longer stand in the way of NATO membership for the Baltics. Why? Because, he suggested, NATO has outlived its purpose. Perhaps it has. So then why did Putin go to Rome in late May to strike a new agreement for NATO-Russian cooperation? And why is Russian Foreign Ministry spokesman Alexander Yakovenko still saying that NATO expansion would “unequivocally qualify as a mistake”?

Until these recent events, I used to believe that NATO membership for Latvia would be rather worthless nose-thumbing toward Russia. The only “enemy” Latvia might potentially have is Russia. Why antagonize it needlessly? Plus, I had to wonder if Russia decided to do something silly like invade Latvia, would NATO really rise to defend a small nation on the Baltic Sea?

I still harbor those doubts. But they have become overwhelmed by questions about Russia’s motives for its renewed interest in NATO. Perhaps my skepticism of Russia’s motives is shaped by growing up Latvian in the United States. I imagine the skepticism would be even stronger if I had lived in Latvia during the decades of occupation. Regardless, it’s troubling that Russia has rushed ahead to form closer ties to an organization it has viewed as an anachronism and an insult, while Latvia and the other candidate nations are forced to wait until November to learn whether they’ll be asked to join the club.

In a fantasy world, Latvia would have no need for the defense alliance. But in the real world, it’s time to expand NATO.

Our apologies to Marija Naumova, because we didn’t think she would win. The night before the Eurovision Song Contest was to begin in Tallinn, my daughter and I sat down at her computer and watched all 24 videos of this year’s entries. Our conclusion was that Naumova and her song “I Wanna” certainly was well above average, but not necessarily good enough to win the contest.

If we had any favorites in addition to Latvia, they were Austria, Denmark, Macedonia and perhaps France and the United Kingdom.

Austria’s Manuel Ortega—who, despite what his name suggests, was born in Linz—surprised us with his upbeat “Say a Word.” We also liked Denmark’s Malene Winther Mortensen and her performance of “Tell Me Who You Are.” The video especially brought smiles, as the singer vandalizes the apartment of her lover whom she suspects of having walked out on her (but returns bearing a couple of baguettes).

And Macedonia’s young pop star, Karolina Gocheva, sang wonderfully the tune, “Od nas zavisi” (It Depends On Us). Her participation in Eurovision saw one of several minor scandals this year. Gocheva wanted to perform the song in English in Tallinn, but was convinced by the powers that be back home that Macedonian was the way to go.

France’s Sandrine Francois performed “Il faut du temps” (“It Takes Time”), a fittingly moody French song that was a refreshing change of pace from the all-too-happy pop songs offered by many other artists.

Finally, the United Kingdom’s Jessica Garlick, who many thought was a virtual shoo-in this year thanks in part to heavy pre-contest promotion, seemed like she would do well with the soulful “Come Back.” When I interviewed Naumova in April, she said Garlick’s song was her favorite among all the entries.

But when I booted up the computer mid-afternoon Saturday to check the results, I was surprised to find that voting was still underway. The Webcast from the Saku Suurhall in Tallinn reported that Latvia was in the lead with 118 points, tussling with Malta for control of first place. My jaw must have hit the keyboard as I watched during the next half hour as Latvia’s score continued to mount. And then Lithuanian television reported that Latvia’s neighbors to the south were giving 12 points to Naumova, boosting her to a score of 176 and clear victory.

Malta’s Ira Losco, who performed “7th Wonder,” came in second with 164 points. The U.K.‘s Garlick tied with Estonia at 111 points. (We were a bit disappointed that Estonia employed a ringer: Young Swedish singer Sahlene sang “Runaway,” a tune with lyrics and music created by Estonians.) And France was next with 104. Unfortunately, one of our favorites, Denmark, ended up in last place with only 7 points, right behind Lithuania in 23rd place.

Yes, Eurovision is a silly contest, but it’s one that’s been running for 47 years. Yes, most of the songs are nothing special. But the point, at least this year, is that in Latvia’s third time in the Eurovision contest it has come away with a victory. Coupled with Estonia’s win last year, the results should help convince any doubters that the Baltics are not some backwater region of Europe.

I guess it’s time to start saving for airfare to next year’s Eurovision contest, which is to be held in Latvia as part of the spoils of victory. The next months are sure to see a debate about whether Latvia can even afford to pull off a Eurovision event and, if it can, whether it should be held in Rīga or in Ventspils, which is where the national runup to Eurovision has been staged.

In the meantime, our congratulations to Marija Naumova, even if we didn’t think you’d win.

Memo to Gerard Stoudmann: The next time someone asks you about language policy in Latvia, keep your mouth shut. Stoudmann is director of the Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights for the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe.

During a two-day visit to Rīga that concluded March 20, Stoudmann met with government officials and discussed a number of issues. He also pressed Latvia to remove a provision in the country’s election law that requires political candidates to prove their proficiency in the Latvian language, according to an OSCE press release. The need for reform, he suggested, is urgent as Latvia heads toward its next parliamentary election on Oct. 5 and looks beyond that date to potential membership in the NATO defense alliance and in the European Union.

But then, in a remark about language policy made during a conference on OSCE and Latvian cooperation, Stoudmann stepped over the line, according to media reports. He said Russian should be made Latvia’s second official language. A third of the nation’s inhabitants speak Russian as their first language.

The OSCE, for those not familiar with this powerful international body, traces its roots back to the early Cold War era. It attempts to resolve disagreements between European nations before they rupture into armed conflicts.

Human rights and democratic reforms have been among the OSCE’s key concerns. But so has the principle of self-determination.

Stoudmann, as Latvians would say, izgāza podu (upset the pot). His remark, widely reported in local media, soon brought a groundswell of rebuke. Even Latvian Prime Minister Andris Bērziņš called for his resignation.

Apparently realizing that he was guilty of a major faux pas, Stoudmann on March 21 recanted, saying his comments were meant as "personal reflection," not a statement of OSCE policy. "I wish to stress that my intention never was to suggest that Russian be made the second state language in Latvia, or that this issue was on the agenda," Stoudmann said in a press release. "I am fully aware of the sensitivities surrounding the issue in Latvia."

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

The Russian Foreign Ministry, for example, piggy-backed on Stoudmann’s remark and once again complained that Latvia isn’t mindful of the rights of its Russian-speaking minority.

The OSCE is correct to point out problems in Latvia’s election law. Asking that political candidates prove their language ability is discriminatory and unconstitutional, as a language commission appointed by President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga said earlier this year. To be a candidate for political office in Latvia, you must be a citizen. Citizens should not be asked such questions. Let the voters decide whether a candidate is fit for office.

But to suggest, even as "personal reflection," that Russian be made a second official language is unfair to a nation that is still trying to clean up the mess left by a half-century of occupation. It’s particularly unfair because the loudest voice in the language debate is across the border and some 800 kilometers away in Moscow. Who’s watching out for the interest of the Latvians?

If the OSCE really wants to help, it could do more to promote Latvian language education as part of the process of becoming a citizen. Of Latvia’s 2.3 million inhabitants, 22.3 percent are still classed as noncitizens, according to government figures. Russians make up nearly 350,000 of the noncitizens.

In the meantime, Stoudmann’s remark is a reminder for ethnic Latvians that they are the only ones who will look after their interests. Already a number of readers of the SVEIKS mailing list are planning an electronic notification "tree" that would serve to mobilize letter-writing campaigns and other activities for the next time someone like Stoudmann says something damaging to Latvia’s cause. According to Jānis Trallis, better known online as "Rodrigo," there are plans to set up a Web site to coordinate the effort. SVEIKS readers are trying to come up with a name, with "e-Taure" slightly favored over "e-Koks."

The unintended result of Stoudmann’s "personal reflection" may well be the strengthening of Latvians’ resolve on the language issue. If he survives in his OSCE post, he’s sure to find his job in Latvia will have become much tougher.