The European Latvian Association (ELA), the umbrella organisation for Latvian organisations in Europe outside of Latvia, held its annual general meeting in Brussels on Sept. 20, and closed its proceedings by holding a discussion on the future of Latvian diaspora organisations in Europe.

The discussion, organised by the Belgian Latvian Association, took place on the premises of the Latvian Permanent Representation to the European Union, and brought together eight speakers and around 20 other participants.

There was a general perception that Latvian diaspora organisations, as they currently stand and have existed throughout the postwar period, are faced with a number of new challenges which require a review of their mission and their relationships both with the members of the communities they claim to represent (whether these be descendants of postwar refugees or people who have emigrated from Latvia over the last few years) and with institutions in Latvia. Globalisation and Latvia’s accession to the European Union has led to unprecedented labour-force mobility throughout much of Europe. The diaspora in Europe is rapidly changing, and its organisations sense a need to change with it.

Bricks-and-mortar or virtual playgrounds?

Some participants in the discussion questioned whether formal associations were at all relevant to today’s circumstances, in an age where Latvians can form social networks on Facebook or draugiem.lv and mingle virtually and, especially in the European context, jump on a plane and gorge themselves on Latvianness in Latvia to their hearts’ content in a matter of hours.

Ivars Ījabs, lecturer in political science at the University of Latvia, mentioned that there is a general worldwide trend away from organisational membership, as noted by Robert D. Putnam in his book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (2000). Public relations specialist Žaneta Vegnere concurred with this assessment and highlighted the usefulness and increasing importance of informal networks, of groups of citizens as “ideas generators” and “political lobbyists,” linked by communications technologies and able to mobilize rapidly for specific purposes. One has only to remember the success of the campaign to get Rīga featured in the Monopoly World Edition board game to confirm this. No need for membership dues or convening meetings in a Latvian House! Indulis Bērziņš, editor of the Web site latviesi.com and representative of the Daugavas Vanagi Organisation in Germany, also questioned the need for national-level organisations, but did highlight the need for more regional bodies.

ELA Chairperson Dace Luters-Thuemmel, meanwhile, stressed that the established structures could still be transformed and develop. Latvia’s Special Ambassador to the Diaspora Juris Audariņš also did not dismiss them lightly, highlighting the benefits of formal organisations as representative bodies and a readily identifiable cooperation partners for Latvia.

New communities, new needs

It seems, however, that established organisations are failing to capitalise on the opportunities for expanding their membership that the recent wave of migration from Latvia present. Ījabs suggested that the underlying problem might be a legacy of totalitarian rule: clubs and associations in Latvia in Soviet times could only exist with the consent of the ruling Communist Party, and membership in them was often a requirement for a reasonable career. The lack of interest shown by recent emigrants in Latvian diaspora organisations, Ījabs contended, could be due to an ingrained mistrust of such institutions per se, rather than to any stereotypical “Latvian individualism” or preference for isolation over communal living. The Soviet legacy may go some way to explaining why an inhabitant of Latvia is likely to be a member of only 0.9 associations on average, whereas the corresponding values for Europeans as a whole and for Americans are 2 and 3.4, respectively.

Perhaps class is also an issue? Most post-war refugees and their descendants have established themselves within the middle class, whereas the majority of new migrants could be classified as working class. Or perhaps the issue is rather one of supply and demand, with the older organisations perceived as too set in their ways, providing premises in which to perpetuate rituals of national belonging for ageing societies, but not offering an outlet for the dynamism of younger generations? Too much in the way of bricks-and-mortar and well-invested inheritances, going through the motions of conducting tired, worn-out rituals, when in fact people actually “want to party,” as Bērziņš suggested?

At any rate, a lack of understanding and communication, if not a wary hostility between the old and new diasporas was apparent. Mārtiņš Sausiņš, chairman of the World Federation of Free Latvians (Pasaules brīvo latviešu apvienība, or PBLA), acknowledged the difficulties, putting forward the view that recent emigrants did not take enough time to get to know the older diaspora well enough and make use of all the opportunities that the older organisations make readily available. “Why don’t you come to us?” Sausiņš rhetorically asked the newer migrants. But there seemed to be no clear strategy for outreach to the new constituencies.

New directions?

Nevertheless outreach does seem to be occurring within some postwar diaspora communities. In the United Kingdom, activities are being organised for the descendants of postwar migrants who do not speak Latvian and for people from other nationalities with an interest in Latvian culture. And it would seem that the Latvian government is in favour of the net being cast yet wider, by harnessing the energy and knowledge of persons of Latvian ancestry to promote Latvia abroad in a similar way to the Globalscot Programme that brings together the expertise of all sorts of specialists of Scottish ancestry to provide strategic advice to Scottish industry. A few audience members did wonder aloud why the Latvian government was not doing more to forge such links.

One area in which the interests of members of both old and new diasporas converged was the fostering of business links with Latvia. Sausiņš cited the example of the Latvia Canada Business Council as an organisation that could embrace both old and new émigré streams. Journalist Ģirts Salmgriezis emphasized the benefits to Latvia of business ideas generated in diaspora communities and realised in Latvia, while Audariņš said that such economically beneficial assistance might act to counterbalance the influx of Russian capital into Latvia.

New political agendas?

There was also broad agreement that diaspora organisations could still play a political role, as they had done in Europe throughout the Cold War and, more recently, as Latvia sought membership of the European Union and the NATO defence alliance. Details of the road ahead, however, were very sketchy.

Audariņš affirmed that although the Latvian government considers diaspora organisations to be nongovernment organisations, they could serve as a political “weapon” in certain circumstances. For example, they could help forge public opinion in their host-country societies and counter negative publicity directed against Latvia, such as erupts around commemorations of the Latvian Legion on March 16 each year. Or they could express solidarity with the Latvian position on international issues, such as the situation in Georgia, in cooperation with other national diasporas, such as those of the other Baltic states, Ukraine, Belarus and Jewish communities.

Salmgriezis wondered what the Latvian government could ask of diaspora organisations if it itself was not doing enough to utilise other available political opportunities, such as those presented by the European Parliament. He questioned the usefulness of some approaches already used, such as organising exhibitions in the European Parliament building, which ended up mainly attracting a Latvian audience. There was a need to “go out onto the streets” and popularise Latvia with a much greater vigour to produce a broader impact.

Other members of the audience questioned how much diaspora organisations can be seen as an extension of the foreign policy arm of the Latvian government, especially since diaspora voters have traditionally supported opposition parties in Latvia. The funds that the government sets aside for the diaspora are also primarily aimed at supporting Latvian cultural and linguistic rather than political activities abroad (and of these, some 50 percent are earmarked for Latvian communities in the Russian Federation). And what happens in cases where Latvian associations bring together people from widely divergent political orientation, much broader than that common in postwar communities? All of this could constrain partisan political activism in favour of a Latvian government position.

The particular difficulties for Latvians living in Brussels to implement a political agenda were also highlighted. Most work as civil servants in various administrations (many are on short-term assignments from Latvian ministries and intend to return in Latvia once their tour of duty is over) and so feel reticent to get involved in political issues. But even here, it was suggested, there could be scope for developing broader informal networks that deal with political themes. German, Swedish and even Estonian EU officials have established networks within their national groups to inform each other about issues related to their countries of origin and to raise awareness of their countries within the EU institutions. And perhaps there are some fundamental issues on which Latvians of every stripe could unite—for example, issues which threaten the very survival of Latvia as an independent state?

Influencing Latvia or expanding Latvia’s influence?

In the meantime, the political activities of the older diaspora organisations (such as the PBLA) continue to be directed at Latvia itself, seeking to influence the Latvian domestic situation, whether through political activism (for example, by advocating the revision of the electoral law) or humanitarian actions.

One has to wonder how far this influence actually reaches. It would appear to be conducted rather discreetly. Lāsma Vaice, a representative of the Secretariat of the Special Assignment Minister for Social Integration, strongly emphasised that information about the diaspora barely reaches the average Latvian in Latvia. The computer literate are well-resourced in this regard, able to consult Latvians Online or latviesi.com, but Vaice stressed the need for a more “aggressive marketing” approach, an active awareness-raising campaign to inform the inhabitants of Latvia about the achievements of their compatriots abroad, possibly through a television programme, such as Lithuanian TV broadcasts about its diaspora. Vaice suggested that such a programme might focus more on Latvian organisations and movements rather than individuals and in so doing encourage more active citizenship in Latvia itself.

For many and varied reasons, Latvian diaspora organisations are not making the mark that they could. I left the discussion with a certain sense of déjà vu. I have attended at least one other public discussion in which Latvian community organisations had engaged in similarly intensive navel-gazing about their future. That was in a distant continent and not long after the restoration of independence in the early 1990s. Although many and varied opinions were expressed on that occasion, no concrete action ever materialised. I have similar concerns about this meeting, though, to be fair, producing a plan of action was not its stated aim.

For change to occur, there need to be people willing and able to implement it, and to reach out to groups that are not being catered for. Identifying opportunities is one thing, seizing them is something else entirely. To paraphrase a Latvian poem, change won’t come if people don’t make it happen. Will there be change in Europe? Can new wine be poured into old wineskins, or do we need new vessels entirely?

Latvians are queasier about national security than in many years. Recently I took an intriguing photo of a large political advertisement sign just a few meters from our Rīga office. It portrays the American and Russian leaders side-by-side with George Bush pointing to some place vague and Vladimir Putin following along. The caption reads, “How much for Georgia?”

This question reveals cynical attitudes that many have, not only toward Putin, but Presiden Bush as well. It grieves me that so many Latvians have decreasing confidence in the integrity of the United States in international affairs.

Perhaps a little background would be helpful. In 2006, after years of ethnic turmoil and political unrest, two regions of Georgia, South Ossetia and Abkhazia, declared their intent to form new independent states. But below the surface, it has been clear that their leaders were puppets of Moscow, used to weaken Georgia and strengthen Russia.

On Aug. 6, in an effort to hinder the independence movement, Georgia foolishly lashed out at South Ossetia (slightly smaller than Switzerland). When Georgia attacked, Russia responded with overwhelming force. Almost 1,700 South Ossetian and Georgian civilians lost their lives and more than 158,000 were displaced.

On Aug. 7, Latvian Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis rushed to Tbilisi to show solidarity with the Georgian president and people. The presidents of Estonia, Lithuania and Poland joined him.

In Rīga, spontaneous anti-Russian protests occurred in front the Russian embassy. At the same time, numerous crowds gathered at the Georgian embassy (two blocks from the Russian embassy), burning candles and singing freedom songs. 

When I joined the crowd on Aug. 14, I was reminded of gatherings in which I participated in the late 1980s and early ‘90s in Latvia when she was struggling for freedom.

In a bold move, on Aug. 18, the Georgian parliament voted to withdraw from the Confederation of Independent States. The CIS had been comprised of 12 of the 15 former Soviet states. The Baltic States, having achieved independence in 1991, never joined the CIS.

On Aug. 26, Russia officially recognized the independence of both Abkhazia and South Ossetia. Two days later, the Georgian parliament passed a resolution declaring both territories as Russian-occupied.

Why are the Baltics so upset with what is happening in Georgia and South Ossetia? Simply put, they understand what a threat Moscow represents when its aggression is left unchecked. Russia has managed to harvest more and more of her vast natural resources. Her national treasury is lined with untold billions—and so are the pockets of countless political brokers. This makes Russia all the more dangerous.

Most in the West do not realize that Russia flexed her mighty muscles last year in Estonia. When Estonians removed an old Soviet monument from Tallinn’s Old City, Russian-driven riots broke out. The Estonian embassy in Moscow was attacked. Then a tremendously powerful computer viral attack was launched at the Estonian financial systems. Though not fully proven, many have attributed this attack to Russia. What did the NATO defense alliance do to protect their tiny member nation? Not so much—and Latvians took note.

Russia’s aggression toward Georgia was more significant than her hostility toward Estonia. She violated internationally agreed upon borders with the intent to annex more land and people.

Western protests were loud, NATO meetings were convened, and President Nicolas Sarkozy of France demonstrated some noteworthy diplomatic leadership. But so far, Russia has effectively taken away part of Georgia and no one has stopped her.

All signs indicate that Russia intends to retake area after area until her former empires are re-established and even surpassed. Western voices are joining together to prevent Russia from taking Moldova and the Ukraine next.

But are voices enough?

Jautājumu “Kur pazuduši bērni?” uzstāda autors Rasels Šorto (Russell Shorto), laikraksta “Diena” š.g. 2.septembra sestdienas pielikumā pārpublicētā “The New York Times” rakstā. Viņa rakstā Latvija ir pieminēta kā zemas dzimstības līmeņa rekordvalsts.

Bažas par zemo dzimstības līmeni Eiropā vairs nav nekāds jaunums. Tagad statistiķus vairāk interesē cēloņi — kas īsti notiek? Jau 90. gados demogrāfi pirmoreiz sāka celt trauksmi par strauji krītošo dzimstības līmeni kontinentā. Brīdinājumi tika ignorēti līdz 2002. gadam, kad itāļu, vācu un spāņu zinātnieku grupa nāca klajā ar paziņojumu, kas beidzot pievērsa plašākas sabiedrības un politiķu uzmanību.

Tradicionāli tiek uzskatīts, ka nācijas izdzīvošana un iedzīvotāju skaita noturēšanās vienā un tajā pašā līmenī tiek nodrošināta, ja vidēji katrai sievietei ir 2,1 bērns. Atsevišķos modernās vēstures posmos — kara vai bada laikā — dzimstība krietni sarūk, taču tūlīt pat pēc tam atgūstas. Savukārt 2002. gada ziņojuma autori Frančesko Bilari (Francesco Billari), Hanss Pīters Kolers (Hans-Peter Kohler) un Hosē Antonio Ortega (José Antonio Ortega) saskatīja kaut ko vēl nebijušu. Pirmo reizi dzimstības līmenis Eiropas dienvidu zemēs un Austrumeiropā bija nokritis zem 1,3 bērnu robežas. Demogrāfiem šis skaitlis ir īpaši svarīgs. Ja tas nemainās, valsts iedzīvotāju skaits nākamajos 45 gados samazinās uz pusi. Tā teikt, nācija pati sevi nogrūž no klints, un atkopties ir gandrīz neiespējami. Zinātnieku komanda pat radīja jaunu terminu “zemāks par zemāko dzimstības līmeni”.

Iespējams, dažus termins “zemāks par zemāko” atstās vienaldzīgus. Tie atcerēsies, ka pirms dažām desmitgadēm pasaule uztraucās par kaut ko citu, proti, pārapdzīvotības draudu. Piemēram, 1968.gadā viens no bestselleriem Amerikā bija “Pārapdzīvotības bumba” (The Population Bomb). Varbūt šodienas ziņas par globālo pārtikas krīzi un klimata izmaiņām to tikai apstiprina?

Taču situācija ir mainījusies. Kaut vai tādēļ, ka dzimstības līmenis ir samazinājies visā pasaulē, pat jaunattīstības zemēs. Vidējais rādītājs 1972.gadā bija seši, pašlaik — 2,9 bērni uz vienu sievieti.

Kur tad ir pazuduši Eiropas bērni? Diezgan interesanta atbilde atrodama statistikas biroja Eurobarometer aptaujā. Kad sievietēm jautāja, cik bērnu viņas vēlētos, vidējais rādītājs bija 2,63 — tātad augstāks par nācijas pašatražošanās līmeni un krietni augstāks par reālo situāciju Eiropā. Ja reiz sievietes saka vienu, bet rīkojas citādi, ir jāmeklē cēloņi.

Izrādās, dažādās valstīs tie ir atšķirīgi. Viena no tendencēm novērojama Austrumeiropā — iedzīvotāju skaita samazināšanos ir izraisījušas sociālās problēmas pēc komunisma sabrukuma. Piemēram, Latvijā iedzīvotāju skaits kopš 1989.gada sarucis par 13%, dzimstība ir viena no zemākajām (pēc jaunākās statistikas — 1,29 bērni vienai sievietei), bet šķiršanos skaits viens no augstākajiem Eiropā. ANO Iedzīvotāju fonda padomnieks Nikolajs Botevs (Nikolai Botev) norāda, ka pēdējā laikā arvien vairāk sociologu ir pamanījuši, ka “dzīve bez bērniem ir ideālais dzīves stils”.

Vislielākā dzimstības līmeņa plaisa ir starp Eiropas ziemeļiem ar dzimstību ap 1,8 bērniem un dienvidiem, ar lielām ģimenēm šķietami draudzīgās valstis — Itālija, Spānija un Grieķija (visas trīs pašlaik svārstās ap 1,3 robežu).

Tik tālu gandrīz tieša autora darba reportāža. Seko mana dažu interesanto apgalvojumu analīze.

Lai labāk saprastu plaisu starp ziemeļiem un dienvidiem, raksta autors ir ticies ar diviem sociologiem, kuri pārstāv abas puses: itālieti Leticija Menkarīni (Letizia Mencarini) un norvēģi Ārnseinu Āsvi (Arnstein Aassve), kas pagājušajā gadā pievienojies Milānas Bokoni universitātei (tā cenšas kļūt par Eiropas demogrāfisko pētījumu centru). Demogrāfiski runājot, abi sarunu biedri paši veido interesantu kontrastu. Viņa ir temperamentīga neliela auguma tumšmate no Toskānas dienvidiema (pārstāv Itālijas valdības atbalstīto ģimenes modeli, kur tēvs ir galvenais iztikas pelnītājs). Viņš ir garš, atturīgs skandināvs, kas runā rāmā tonī un ar precīzu britu akcentu angļu valodā.

“Norvēģijā uztraukums par dzimstības līmeni ir pavisam neliels”, saka Āsve. “Vairāk dominē dzimumu līdztiesības jautājums, un tikai pēc tam ir bažas par dzimstību”. Itālijā Āsve ir novērojis kaut ko pilnīgi atšķirīgu. Itāļu sievietes ir tikpat izglītotas kā skandināvietes, taču regulāru darbu strādā tikai 50% (Skandināvijā — 75—80%). No tā Āsve, acīmredzot secina, ka sievietes nodarbinātībai ir tieša korelācija ar dzimstību – jo vairāk sievietes strādā algotu darbu ārpus mājas, jo tai vairāk bērnu dzimst. Āsve nepasaka, cik procentu sieviešu jānodarbina Norvēgijā, lai no pašreizējā 1,8 bērnu līmeņa valsts sasniegtu tautas pastāvēšanas līmenim nepieciešamos 2,1 bērnus katrai sievietei, vai 120%? Bet kā Āsve pats saka, tas jautājums jau viņu īsti nenodarbina. Lielais ziemeļnieks ir atbraucis uz Itāliju, lai Milano Bokoni universitātē sludinātu dzimumu līdztiesības dogmu.

Latvijā stāvoklis ir pilnīgi līdzīgs Āsves aprakstītajam stāvoklim Norvēģijā. Uztraukums par dzimstību ir pavisam neliels. Vairāk dominē dzimumu līdztiesību jautājums. Nupat nesen Labklājības Ministrija pieprasīja, lai valsts budžetā būtu paredzēti 20 miljoni latu dzimumu līdztiesības vajadzībām nākošiem četriem gadiem, bet norādījumi uz kritisko dzimstības statistiku valstī atrod tikai kurlas ausis. Atcerēsimies, ka civilizācijas pastāvēšanai ir nepieciešams, lai katrai sievietei būtu caurmērā 2,1 bērnu. Tikai tad, ja civilizācija pastāvēs, varēs pastāvēt Latvija kā valsts, kuŗā dzīvo latvieši. Latvijā nav neviena iestādījuma, kas intormētu par bērnu radīšanas nepieciešamību. Neviens santīms netiek izdots, lai to izskaidrotu tautai. Neviens neprasa: “Latvieti! Kur ir tavi bērni?”