Gundars Matīss: Victim No. 55?

So far this year, nearly five dozen journalists have been killed around the world because of who they are and what they do. Now a Latvian reporter may be among them.

Gundars Matīss, a 35-year-old crime and defense reporter for the daily Kurzemes Vārds in the port city of Liepāja, was assaulted the night of Nov. 15. He died in a Rīga hospital 13 days later.

"We don’t have any information that would allow us to state that Gundars was murdered because of his work, but we can’t rule it out, either," Assistant Editor Edgars Lūsēns told me in an e-mail.

Matīss was described by colleagues as his own man, one who told the story of crime in Liepāja not by relying on police reports, but by digging into the underground to try to explain what really was going on. That he may have been murdered by someone who didn’t want a story told is a very plausible scenario.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Just take a look at the reports from the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists, the Paris-based Reporters Without Borders or the Vienna-based International Press Institute, to name just a few watchdog groups. Last year, according to some record-keepers, 52 journalists died while doing their jobs. This year, thanks in part to the fighting in Afghanistan, the number has reached at least 54, according to IPI’s "Death Watch."

Liepāja police seem to doubt that Matīss may be No. 55. The police, Lūsēns said, dragged their feet in investigating the incident until five days after the attack. And the police also maintain that a more likely motive for the attack was either a personal dispute or robbery, Lūsēns said.

Some Liepāja residents question that version. The Liepaja Online bulletin board in recent days has seen numerous comments speculating that Matīss was the victim of revenge, perhaps because of his investigations of police corruption.

"Liepāja has lost a good person and a professional," wrote one user.

Reporters Without Borders, in a Dec. 3 letter to Interior Minister Mareks Segliņš, expressed its concern over the attack and urged government officials "not to exclude too quickly the possibility of an assault directly related to the journalist’s work."

If Matīss died from injuries received from an assault brought on by what he might have been investigating, if he died because of his work as a journalist, it would be disturbing news indeed. So far, Latvia has been a relatively safe place for journalists. Reporters Without Borders has noted that the first violence against media since Latvia regained independence occurred in November of last year. That’s when the offices of the Russian-language magazine Kapital Latgalii were bombed in Daugavpils. Other than that, it’s been quiet.

Like many journalists, Matīss was not a stranger to threats. Journalists get them all the time, although not all are to be taken seriously. In my career I’ve been twice threatened seriously with a lawsuit for something I wrote, once with a boycott and once with physical violence. None of it came to pass, but it has taught me that it’s part of the risk journalists take when they step onto the public stage.

Matīss, Lūsēns said, had rarely received any serious threats, at least not ones he talked about to his colleagues at Kurzemes Vārds.

"Every once in a while someone would invite him to a ‘discussion’—in a car, for example," Lūsēns said. "He saw that as part of the job and didn’t worry about it much."

And it’s precisely Matīss who was the kind of journalist who could uncover the truth in a case like his, the reporter’s colleagues wrote in a Dec. 5 open letter published in the newspaper.

"But the sad thing," they added, "is that a journalist can’t investigate his own murder."

Gundars Matīss

Journalist Gundars Matīss died Nov. 28 from injuries suffered in a Nov. 15 assault in Liepāja. (Photo courtesy of Kurzemes Vārds)

Andris Straumanis is a special correspondent for and a co-founder of Latvians Online. From 2000–2012 he was editor of the website.

Oral history aids understanding, acceptance

Stories in spoken form have been told in societies in generations past, but the organized effort to collect personal commentaries in Latvian has a much shorter history.

During the years of occupation, people were silenced. No one dared to talk about the occupation or their feelings, hopes and dreams. The only truth was Soviet propaganda.

With the advent of glasnost in the 1980s, a few historians in Latvia began to recognize the need and urgency for the collecting and preserving of stories from those Latvians whose voices for the last 50 years had not been heard , but who had witnessed the horrible events in their own lifetime. Even to this day, some of the latest history books do not reveal the true and accurate information of those years. However, the testimonies collected do collectively represent life as it was lived, perceived and experienced by common people of all walks of life. These stories will aid the historians in their work of historical reconstruction.

About the same time Latvians abroad also recognized that our experiences will be lost for the future generations. Even the children and grandchildren of those who left our homeland as youngsters are not familiar with the past experiences of their ancestors. The war years and life in the Displaced Persons camps in Germany is part of our history, but this period has been very poorly documented. The circumstances of immigration—to America, Australia, Canada, Sweden, England, Venezuela, and elsewhere—in the late 1940s and early 1950s is understood by only a few. The first few months in a strange country with a different culture were difficult and overwhelming. Life stories of these strange times can be very revealing and very important.

In the United States all subcultures—ethnic or otherwise—are increasingly being assimilated. Recording the voices of those who balanced their lives, became citizens of another country while remaining deeply rooted in their own unique ethnicity, is a most important task. Because Latvia is once again a free country, all Latvians need to be reacquainted. Exchange of a truthful information once again is possible; we can begin the healing process of understanding and acceptance. Our life stories will help us to build the bridges across oceans and time.

In mid-1980s a project in Latvia was developed by Māra Zirnīte to collect life narratives in an oral history archive, later known as Nacionālā mutvārdu vēstures projekts (Latvian National Oral History) collection. The work slowly proceeded and by 1995 it had moved to the Latvian Academy of Sciences and consisted of some 350 narratives.

Oral history collects spoken memories and personal commentaries of historical significance through recorded interviews. Oral history is a collaboration between the narrator and the interviewer. These recorded stories are then transcribed, summarized, indexed and placed in archives.

It was soon recognized that more work needs to be done and it has to be done with limited financial and human resources. Under the tutelage of Maija Hinkle and Inta Carpenter from Indiana University and Augusts Milts and Māra Zirnīte from the University of Latvia, plus the financial support mostly from the Latvian Foundation Inc., a program was developed that involved volunteers both from Latvia and abroad participating in oral history expeditions.

Every summer since 1996 a total of 146 trained volunteers (about a third from abroad) and staff members, after receiving training in several day-long seminars, have participated in week-long field work expeditions of gathering life stories in different regions of Latvia. The Latvian National Oral History collection now has more than 1,500 audio life narratives, including those collected in United States and other countries. Data collection continues. Many narratives have been already transcribed and have been authorized by the authors for use in further research. Short summaries of 30 narratives can be found on the project’s Web site.

For those of us who have had the patience and genuine interest in people, the opportunity to participate and work in Latvia has been a humbling experience. Not only did we help to document people’s life stories, but it enriched our own lives. We heard stories of unthinkable suffering, of inner strength, of physical endurance. We also learned from the eyewitness accounts about life under the Soviet regime.

In 1996, the American Latvian Association began to support the work of documenting the exile experience. The gathering of oral histories became a funded project. The goals were to record life stories from as many American Latvians as possible, to make these stories available to students and scholars in Latvia and elsewhere, and to add their experiences to the Immigration History Research Center at the University of Minnesota.

Volunteers in the United States are trained in 3×3 culture camps, lectures and special seminars, mostly conducted by Hinkle, who is the project coordinator for American Latvian Association. Those of us who have been participating in fieldwork in Latvia have gained ample experience and are continuing to volunteer our time in recording Latvian stories in the states. Several Latvian oral historians are members of the American Oral History Association, which organizes national conventions with opportunities to learn from the most distinguished names in the field.

Thus far in United States 115 potential volunteers have been trained. Of those, 32 have participated in interviewing and have recorded about 115 life stories. Interviewers in their communities choose the narrators. We select people who are older, are good story tellers and who have had unique experiences. Generally we allow the narrators to tell their story as they would like, but there are several topics that we try to cover. We are specially interested in their experiences during World War II and their life in Displaced Persons camps. Very little information about the immediate post-war period is available in historical records.

We also ask about their relationship with present-day Latvia, their feelings of belonging, their ideas of "home," their dreams and disappointments.

Most interviews are about two to four hours long, but many are much longer.

We also have developed special projects. For example, people who live in the Latvian village "Ciems Latvija" in Michigan were given the opportunity to talk about their life experiences and their desire to spend retirement years in an ethnically homogeneous community. These stories can convey personalities and explain motivations for choices in life.

Many Latvian emigres in the United States have been almost totally integrated into the American society. However, some—mostly those now aged 65 or older—have lived their social lives exclusively among Latvians. They read Latvian books, they support each other, and educate their children in special Latvian schools. "There is no need, or room, for strangers," explained one interviewee.

But most of those interviewed also recognize that the life of their children will be different.

Typical is a story from an older gentleman who chose not to pursue his previous profession in Latvia. He began his career in America as a church custodian. There he was extremely well respected, set an example for the whole church community, and was employed in the same church for 37 years. As a deeply religious person, he thanks God for the life he has been able to live. The main reason for his choice of work was his free time, which he could devote to the Latvian community service.

But another interviewee, a woman who also was a devoted Latvian activist, was critical of the Latvian community. She said she felt the Latvians have not given the younger generation a feeling of belonging. Too many from the old school have been critical, she said, and young people have not been able to find a meaningful role amongst their own people.

Such and similar stories will be preserved. We consider these stories a gift and we are grateful to receive them. Scholars and researchers in years to come, hopefully, will be able to study, compare and identify the values, the strengths and weaknesses of the Latvians in the different parts of the world in 20th Century.

Dzīvesstāsti Web site

The Latvian National Oral History project has a Web site with background on collection efforts and samples of some life stories.

A mellow album that’s not for the birds

Putni maina virzienu

The musical output of Latvia has become more and more varied through recent years. Beyond the standard styles of rock and folk, other styles like dance, techno, rap, and rhythm and blues have been heard being played by Latvian groups. Some styles are particularly hard to define. One example is the group Kopējā izteiksme and their release Putni maina virzienu. One would be quick to label it as "New Age," but it does not fit neatly into that category.

It is an entirely instrumental album, full of textured sounds and many different kinds of instruments. It is very heavy on synthesizers (maybe a bit much so), but a varied lineup of musicians keep the album from sounding overly synthesized. It is also very atmospheric, complete with ocean sounds. Much of the music sounds like it belongs in a film sountrack.

The main musicians in Kopējā izteiksme are Jānis Brūveris (on keyboards and programming, as well as composer of eight of the 11 tunes on the album), and Ainārs Paukšēns (also on keyboards and programming, as well as the cello). Joining them are Michael Nagy on acoustic guitar, Juris Kulakovs on accordion and Artis Gāga on saxaphone. Also appearing is a string quartet, made up of Lāsma Muceniece on violin, Signe Šteimane on violin, Jānis Lielbārdis on viola and Paukšēns on cello.

As with many "New Age" groups, Kopējā izteiksme’s music is very influenced by nature. One of the main themes of the album is about birds, their ability to know where to fly when they migrate and how they know where to return to.

Of note is that there is nothing particularly "Latvian" about the music, besides the fact that it was produced by Latvian musicians.

The album opens up with "Tuvums," which starts off with a very pretty introduction on acoustic guitar.

The song "Pirmais gads" reminds me a bit of the music of the Indians of South America (the kind who always seem to be playing in the Times Square subway station), mainly due to the synthesized, flute-like sound.

"Sniegs (akustiskais mix)" with its piano theme, is a particularly haunting song, simple but eerie. It reminds me of the theme to the Halloween horror movies. The strings provide a nice balance to the piano melody.

This theme returns in "Sniegs (paplašinātais mix)," which for the most part is simply an extended version of the original, but diverges near the end, where bass and drum sounds are added.

My favorite track on the recording is probably "No sevis sāc," perhaps because it sounds more like an actual "song" (but without words, of course) and has a melody that can be hummed along with. I particularly like the way the acoustic guitar sounds in it.

The album packaging is on the simple side, with the obligatory nature pictures in it. Text relating to the theme of the album asks Zen-like cosmic questions such as "Kur putni maina virzienu? Tu zini? Un kāpēc? Tu zini? Pastāsti man!" (Where do birds change direction? Do you know? And why? Do you know? Tell me!)

Putni maina virzienu is a great-sounding album, full of many styles and textures. It is a pleasant listen when one needs more mellow music to relax with. Listening to this music will make people light up their incense and start meditating. But it is not the kind of recording that I would buy. Listening to the album made me sleepy (but perhaps that is one of the intentions of the artists). Enough variety is on the album for fans of this genre, though it does seem at times that a few of the pieces on the album start to sound very similar.

As with many of these kinds of recordings, the human aspect is missing. The music sounds very "mechanical" at times, as though it was entirely performed by a machine (which I’m sure a lot of it was, because both Paukšēns and Brūveris are credited with “programming”). However, if you like your music atmospheric and heavy on the synthesizer sound, then you will most likely like Putni maina virzienu.

Details

Putni maina virzienu

Kopējā izteiksme

Latvijas Radio,  2000

Egils Kaljo is an American-born Latvian from the New York area . Kaljo began listening to Latvian music as soon as he was able to put a record on a record player, and still has old Bellacord 78 rpm records lying around somewhere.