October 11, 2002	Friday	Sha'aban 4, 1423

RIGA (Latvia): It was meant to be a powerful symbolic moment, the time when Latvia and its two Baltic neighbours, Lithuania and Estonia, would take their place alongside the United States in the ‘war on terrorism’. The three tiny countries, former Soviet subjects eager to join the West, would send a small team of soldiers to the new US military base in Kyrgyzstan, a token but resonant contribution to the fight in nearby Afghanistan.

It didn’t work out that way.

Instead, the Baltic soldiers are sitting out of the ‘war on terror’. In May, the Kyrgyz government that at first welcomed the idea refused to allow them into the country. The reason, according to senior Latvian sources, was pressure from Russia. So rather than offering a symbolic gesture of support for the United States, the Baltic team has become a symbolic reminder of the many ways, large and small, that Russia has not yet become reconciled to the loss of its former Baltic territories.

Here in this former Soviet republic, where the Russians are routinely referred to as “occupiers” and Stalin-era atrocities are still front-page news, the message appeared obvious. Russia may no longer rule, but it doesn’t have to make things easy, either.

Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia are among seven East European countries likely to get invitations to join NATO in November, marking the first time the military alliance would incorporate former parts of the Soviet Union that it was created to confront. Officially, Russia has dropped its opposition, but history still weighs heavily on present-day politics.

For President Vaira Vike-Freiberga of Latvia, that is why the choice on NATO couldn’t be more straightforward. The main argument for joining the alliance, she said in a recent interview, is simply this: “the fact that you can go to bed and not worry about somebody knocking on the door and putting you on a train for Siberia.”

Other countries might debate the relevance of NATO in the post-Cold War world, wondering about the need for a military force that has outlasted the enemy it was meant to fight. But here, Vike-Freiberga and other leaders are eager to deal a final blow to the former occupiers next door, 11 years after winning their independence.

Latvians regard NATO as a “security blanket,” as a top Western diplomat here put it, and a means to separate themselves once and for all from Russia. Their constant frame of reference is World War II, when first the Soviets, then the Germans, then the Soviets again swallowed up the Baltics. “NATO has given security for people since the end of World War II,” said Girts Valdis Kristovskis, the Latvian defence minister. “More than anyone, we understand how important this is.”

That Latvia and its two neighbours — ancient trading centers with a combined population today of about 8 million — are poised to join NATO, represents a remarkable turnaround. Just last year, their inclusion in NATO was far from a foregone conclusion and a subject that threatened to derail arms talks and other cooperation between the United States and Russia.

But after the Sept 11 terrorist attacks last year, President Vladimir Putin of Russia reversed his policy toward the West and muted his opposition to the Baltic republics joining NATO. The official line now coming from the Kremlin boils down to this: Any country is free to make whatever security arrangements it chooses. For Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, that’s as close as they’re going to get to walking papers.

Even so, the past remains a painful subject here. Despite the Russia-US rapprochement, said Vike-Freiberga, “we haven’t seen any change” in relations with Russia over the past year.

The most acute flash point between Moscow and the Baltics has been the uneasy status of the hundreds of thousands of ethnic Russians who remained after independence. In Latvia, where about 670,000 of the 2.3 million people are ethnic Russians, only about 317,000 are citizens. The rest live in a legal gray zone, ineligible to vote and travel abroad on non-citizen passports. The United States and other NATO members have pressured Latvia to reform restrictive laws aimed at the Russian population, using the leverage of joining NATO to encourage what is delicately known here as “social integration.”

Ethnic Russians complain about restrictions on the amount of Russian-language television programming and a new law that would require Russian-speaking high school students, beginning in 2004, to study exclusively in Latvian. Russia calls such problems a human rights issue, and nationalist politicians in Moscow regularly cite the mistreatment of Baltic Russians in efforts to score political points at home.

In Latvia, today’s leading “Euro-skeptics” are associated with For Human Rights, the pro-Russian political party. With an estimated 90 per cent of his voters drawn from the ranks of Latvia’s Russian speakers, party leader Janis Jurkans says Latvia should not join NATO.

His concerns range from the practical — “We are a poor country, we can’t afford it” — to the politically provocative: “Where is the threat that requires us to join NATO? ... From the Russian military? If they come here, will you Americans vote for starting war with Russia? Would Americans risk starting a nuclear war because of Latvia?”

For Jurkans, history also is at issue, and he wishes the Latvians would just get over theirs.

“We should let bygones be bygones,” he said, rather than pursuing trials against Russians accused of carrying out Stalin- era deportations and denying a visa to Russian extremist politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Such views have made Jurkans a popular figure in Moscow. Last weekend, Jurkans, whose party holds just nine seats in Parliament, got an audience in the Kremlin with Putin.

Although Putin may have “swallowed this bitter pill,” as Jurkans describes the Russian attitude toward NATO expansion, there are indicators that Russian leaders are actively looking for ways to undermine Baltic countries still regarded by some in Moscow as rebellious colonies. In this war for history, symbolism counts, which is why the Russian State Duma, or lower house of parliament, refuses to ratify the negotiated treaties that would legally delineate the border between Russia and Latvia.

Doing so would be tantamount to admitting that the Baltics are forever lost to Russia, so the Duma instead has done nothing. “They don’t want to give up their imperial ambitions. They can’t accept that Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia will be absolutely independent states,” said Dzintars Kudums, a Latvian parliamentary leader.

Russia has in other ways sought to hinder the status of the Baltic republics, such as this spring’s skirmish over sending troops to Kyrgyzstan. “Our big eastern neighbour influenced this decision,” said a senior Latvian official who investigated the matter. Just two weeks ago, Sergei Ivanov, Russia’s defence minister, renewed demands that the Baltic republics ratify a treaty limiting the size of conventional forces in Europe before they enter NATO, which US officials have opposed.

Such tensions with the former superpower next door have sparked street-level opposition among Latvia’s Russian speakers to joining NATO. Walking the immaculately restored cobblestone streets of historic old Riga, i, it is easy to find these NATO naysayers.

“Latvia will become a slave state again,” said Svetlana Khristicha, an ethnic Russian. The only difference, she said, is that this time “it will have to submit to NATO.”

Even for many ethnic Latvians, there is a recognition that joining NATO is more an act of symbolism than actual security. “NATO will not make Latvia stronger. NATO will not protect Latvia from Russia,” said Ilga Biedrinya, 56, who remembers the Soviet occupation that swallowed up her country. “We need to be a non-aligned country, a neutral country without weapons.”

In the end, though, the Baltics’ membership in NATO is not about military matters. It is an explicitly political decision, and one that is “going to mean a lot for us psychologically,” said Ojars Latvins, a former Latvian ambassador to the United States who heads a pro-NATO group here.

Opinion polls reveal a public that is far more skeptical about future membership in the European Union (EU) than it is about teaming up with a former Cold War enemy. Recent polls show support for the EU down to just 40 per cent, while support for NATO has risen in recent months, reaching 66 per cent.

“We need to join the EU to live better,” Kudums said. “But to live at all, we need to join NATO.”—Dawn/The Washington Post News Service.