The Baltic Question during the Cold War (Cold War History)

The Baltic Question during the Cold War This edited volume presents a comprehensive analysis of the ‘Baltic question’,...

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The Baltic Question during the Cold War

This edited volume presents a comprehensive analysis of the ‘Baltic question’, which arose within the context of the Cold War and which has previously received little attention. This volume brings together a group of international specialists on the international history of northern Europe. Based on a combination of country-based and more thematic chapters, it locates the Baltic question ﬁrmly within the context of international politics. It explores the policy decision-making mechanisms which sustained the Western nonrecognition of Soviet sovereignty over the Baltic States after 1940 and which eventually led to the legal restoration of the three countries’ statehood in 1991. The wider international ramiﬁcations of this doctrine of legal continuity are also examined, within the context both of the Cold War and of relations between post-Soviet Russia and the enlarging ‘EuroAtlantic area’. This book ends with an examination of how this Cold War legacy continues to shape relations between Russia and the West. This book will be of considerable interest to students of International History, European Studies and International Relations. John Hiden is Emeritus Professor at Bradford University and Visiting Senior Research Fellow at the Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow. He is author and co-author of 12 books, chieﬂy concerning modern Germany and the Baltic region. Vahur Made is the Deputy Director of the Estonian School of Diplomacy and Associate Professor at the Department of History of the University of Tartu. David J. Smith is Reader in Baltic Studies at the Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow.

Cold War history series Series editors: Odd Arne Westad and Michael Cox ISSN: 1471-3829

In the new history of the Cold War that has been forming since 1989, many of the established truths about the international conﬂict that shaped the latter half of the twentieth century have come up for revision. The present series is an attempt to make available interpretations and materials that will help further the development of this new history, and it will concentrate in particular on publishing expositions of key historical issues and critical surveys of newly available sources. 1 Reviewing the Cold War Approaches, interpretations, and theory Edited by Odd Arne Westad 2 Rethinking Theory and History in the Cold War Richard Saull 3 British and American Anticommunism before the Cold War Marrku Ruotsila 4 Europe, Cold War and Co-existence, 1953–1965 Edited by Wilfred Loth 5 The Last Decade of the Cold War From conﬂict escalation to conﬂict transformation Edited by Olav Njølstad 6 Reinterpreting the End of the Cold War Issues, interpretations, periodizations Edited by Silvio Pons and Federico Romero 7 Across the Blocs Cold War cultural and social history Edited by Rana Mitter and Patrick Major

8 US Paramilitary Assistance to South Vietnam Insurgency, subversion and public order William Rosenau 9 The European Community and the Crises of the 1960s Negotiating the Gaullist challenge N. Piers Ludlow 10 Soviet–Vietnam Relations and the Role of China 1949–64 Changing alliances Mari Olsen 11 The Third Indochina War Conﬂict between China, Vietnam and Cambodia, 1972–79 Edited by Odd Arne Westad and Sophie Quinn-Judge 12 Greece and the Cold War Front line state, 1952–1967 Evanthis Hatzivassiliou 13 Economic Statecraft during the Cold War European responses to the US trade embargo Frank Cain 14 Macmillan, Khrushchev and the Berlin Crisis, 1958–1960 Kitty Newman 15 The Emergence of Détente in Europe Brandt, Kennedy and the formation of Ostpolitik Arne Hofmann 16 European Integration and the Cold War Ostpolitik–Westpolitik, 1965–1973 Edited by N. Piers Ludlow 17 Britain, Germany and the Cold War The search for a European détente 1949–1967 R. Gerald Hughes 18 The Military Balance in the Cold War US perceptions and policy, 1976–85 David M. Walsh

19 Europe and the End of the Cold War A reappraisal Edited by Frédéric Bozo, Marie-Pierre Rey, N. Piers Ludlow and Leopoldo Nuti 20 The Baltic Question during the Cold War Edited by John Hiden, Vahur Made and David J. Smith

The Baltic Question during the Cold War

Edited by John Hiden, Vahur Made and David J. Smith

First published 2008 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2008. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2008 Selection and editorial matter, John Hiden, Vahur Made and David J. Smith; individual chapters, the contributors All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested The chapters of this book came from the Estonian Science Foundation supported research projects (Grants No. 4962 and 5484). ISBN 0-203-93061-4 Master e-book ISBN ISBN10: 0-415-37100-7 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-93061-4 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-37100-1 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-93061-8 (ebk)

Contents

Notes on contributors

1 Introduction: the Baltic question and the Cold War

x

1

JOHN HIDEN, VAHUR MADE AND DAVID J. SMITH

2 The Baltic states and Europe, 1918–1940

7

VAHUR MADE

Great Britain and the Baltic 8 France and the Baltic 13 The limits to entente policy in the Baltic region 15 Germany and the Baltic 16

3 The USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states: from recognition to the Cold War

21

EERO MEDIJAINEN

Early US contacts with the Baltic states 23 The US de jure recognition of the Baltic states 24 Baltic states as the factors of the Cold War 28

4 Roosevelt and the dictators: the origin of the US nonrecognition policy of the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states JONATHAN L’HOMMEDIEU

An international trustee and the road from isolation 34 Soviet annexation and the reemergence of the Stimson Doctrine 38 Interest groups and domestic politics 41 Conclusion 42

33

viii Contents

5 The politics of a principle: US non-recognition policy before, during and after the recovery of Baltic independence

45

PAUL A. GOBLE

A policy of principle applied 45 A policy put to the test – and maintained 50 Non-recognition policy continues 54

6 Soviet foreign policy during the Cold War: the Baltic factor

56

KONSTANTIN K. KHUDOLEY

7 Britain and the Baltic states: the late 1940s and the early 1990s

73

CRAIG GERRARD

8 French policy towards the Baltic states, 1939–1991: from abandonment to reunion

84

SUZANNE CHAMPONNOIS

The 1944 Franco-Soviet Pact 85 The fourth Republic and the Baltic states: an inauspicious record 86 Non-recognition of the annexation of the Baltic countries 87 Franco-Soviet relations after 1958 88 Détente takes hold under Pompidou 90 The Helsinki Accords of 1975 90 A change in tone under Mitterrand 93 Ambivalence in Franco-Soviet relations 94 A ‘new way of thinking’ 95 The train is leaving. Should we get on board? 96 ‘In aid of victory’ 98

9 West Germany and the Baltic question during the Cold War KRISTINA SPOHR READMAN

West Germany’s legal position on Baltic annexation 101 The question of ofﬁcial (West) German–Baltic relations, 1950–1954 102 Bonn, Moscow and the Baltic question, 1955–1961 113

100

Contents ix Neue Ostpolitik, Helsinki, human rights and the end of the Cold War 120 Conclusions 125

10 The Estonian Government-in-Exile: a controversial project of state continuation

134

VAHUR MADE

Diplomats and politicians 136 Attempts to create Latvian and Lithuanian governments-in-exile 138 The position of Norway and Sweden 138 The re-established Republic of Estonia and the government-in-exile 139

11 Émigrés, dissidents and international organisations

144

HELEN M. MORRIS AND VAHUR MADE

12 Between political rhetoric and Realpolitik calculations: Western diplomacy and the Baltic independence struggle in the Cold War endgame

156

KRISTINA SPOHR READMAN

From internal to international problem: reforms, people power and legal aspects 158 The Baltic struggle in the shadow of the German question, 1989/1990 162 The Lithuanian April crisis, the 2+4 process and superpower relations 168 Bloodshed in Vilnius and the disintegration of the USSR 174 Conclusions 180

13 The end of the ‘Baltic question’? The Baltic states, Russia and the West in the post-Cold War era

189

DAVID J. SMITH

Index

204

Contributors

Suzanne Champonnois, PhD, is an Historian and Senior Lecturer at INALCO (Institut National des Langues et Civilisations OrientalesParis). Originally a graduate in Russian and Polish, she has taught and published extensively in the area of Baltic History and Culture. Key publications include the following: L’Estonie: Paris, Éd. Karthala – 1998; La Lettonie: Paris, Éd. Karthala – 1999; Dictionnaire Historique de la Lituanie: Éd. Armeline, Brest, 2001; Dictionnaire historique de la Lettonie: Éd. Armeline, Brest, 2003; Estoniens, Lettons, Lituaniens, Histoire et destins: Éd. Armeline, Brest, 2004; Dictionnaire historique de l’Estonie: Éd. Armeline, Brest, 2005; and La Lituanie: Un millénaire d’Histoire: Éd. L’Harmattan, Paris, 2007. Craig Gerrard is Librarian and Legal Researcher at Weightmans, a national law ﬁrm in the United Kingdom. He has a PhD from the University of Leeds and is the author of The Foreign Ofﬁce and Finland 1938–1940, published by Taylor & Francis in 2005. Paul A. Goble worked for 25 years as an advisor to the US government on nationalities within the former Soviet Union. More recently, he has been Professor at the University of Tartu, Estonia. John Hiden is Emeritus Professor at Bradford University and Visiting Senior Research Fellow at the University of Glasgow. Honoured by the Lithuanian and Estonian governments for his work on the Baltic, his books include the following: The Baltic States and Weimar Ostpolitik (1987); Republican and Fascist Germany (1996); The Baltic Nations and Europe (with P. Salmon, 1991). His latest book is the prize-winning Defender of Minorities: Paul Schiemann 1876–1944 (2004). His edited volumes include The Baltic in International Relations between the Two World Wars (Stockholm, 1988) and The Baltic and the Outbreak of the Second World War (2002). Jonathan L’hommedieu is a doctoral candidate in Contemporary History afﬁliated with the Graduate School on Integration and Interaction in the Baltic Sea Region at the University of Turku in Finland. His main

Contributors xi research areas include twentieth-century Baltic history, émigré politics, and the history of transatlantic relations. Konstantin K. Khudoley graduated from the Faculty of History at St. Petersburg (Leningrad) University, where he has since worked in a number of different departments. Since 1994 he has been a Professor and Dean of the School of International Relations. He is the author of more than 80 research papers on European history and international relations. His main area of research interest during the last few years has been relations between Russia and the West. Vahur Made (1971) is the Deputy Director of the Estonian School of Diplomacy and Associate Professor at the Department of History of the University of Tartu. His main research interests include historical and contemporary perspectives on Estonian and Baltic foreign policies, the history of Baltic political (including foreign political) identities, Cold War history, international organizations and European political integration from the Baltic and North European perspective. Eero Medijainen (1959), PhD, graduated from Tartu University Faculty of History in 1983. Historian specializing on Contemporary History and International Relations. Took a degree of doctor philosophiae June 1997 – The Estonian Foreign Ministry and Legations 1918–1940. Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Tartu. Helen M. Morris completed her DPhil on External Actors and the Evolution of Latvian Nationality Policy 1991–1999 at St. Antony’s College, Oxford. She held a Marie Curie Research Fellowship at the Centre for European Policy Studies, Brussels. Prior to this she was CIS/East Europe Editor and Analyst at Oxford Analytica Ltd. She is currently a freelance writer, editor, and associate radio producer based in Canada. Kristina Spohr Readman is Lecturer in International History at the London School of Economics and Political Science. Specializing in the international affairs of Germany since 1945 and the end of the Cold War, she has published articles in a number of journals, including the Historical Journal, Cold War History, and Journal of Strategic Studies. She is the author of Germany and the Baltic Problem after the Cold War: the Development of a New Ostpolitik, 1989–2000. David J. Smith is Reader in Baltic Studies at the Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow, UK, and Editor of the Journal of Baltic Studies. He has published extensively in the area of contemporary Baltic history and international relations, with particular reference to issues of nationalism and identity politics.

1

Introduction The Baltic question and the Cold War John Hiden, Vahur Made and David J. Smith

This book is about the ‘Baltic question’ during the Cold War period and beyond. Yet what exactly was this ‘question’ and what particular challenges did the Baltic region present for international politics during the Cold War era? What were the roots of the Baltic problem? How was it resolved and what is its legacy? These are all issues central to the present volume. Questions about the fate of the Russian Empire and therefore also the future of the Baltic states in the international system ﬁrst became acute during the First World War and the ensuing Paris Peace Conference. Testimony to this is found in the discussions held by the Allied Baltic Commission during the Paris Conference. A measure of the difﬁculties involved is the fact that while the Soviets acknowledged independent Baltic countries in 1920, the Western powers did not follow suit until 1921, indeed 1922 in the case of Lithuania. All three countries duly became members of the League of Nations in 1921. There is, however, a case for arguing that not until the Second World War and the ensuing Cold War did the ‘Baltic question’ really become a matter of international politics. Key moments in the process were, on the one hand, the Soviet occupation of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in June 1940 and, on the other hand, Washington’s subsequent refusal – through the Sumner Welles declaration in July of that year – to recognise Moscow’s claim to legal possession of the three Baltic countries. The fate of the Baltic states at once became a function of relations between the superpowers. Looking back, it is striking how many previous authors have focused on the purely legal aspects of the Baltic question. Central issues have included the non-recognition of the legitimacy of Soviet occupation and to what extent the Baltic countries can lay claim to legal continuity from the pre-occupation period to the present. Of particular note is William Hough’s study of the implications of the annexation of the Baltic states for international legislation. Hough explicitly underlined the importance of the Stimson doctrine and the Sumner Welles declaration on US policy towards the Baltic states, stressing its impact on the stance of many Western European as well as some non-European countries. In much the

2 J. Hiden et al. same vein, Boris Meissner emphasised the importance of the Baltic question for the development of international law.1 Other scholars following in the footsteps of Hough and Meissner include Robert A. Vitas and Thomas D. Grant. Both have contributed studies of the US policy of non-recognition in its various manifestations (legal, diplomatic, political, economic, etc.) during the Cold War.2 Conversely, Edgars Dunsdorfs essayed Australian attempts in 1974 to recognise the Soviet occupation of the Baltic states.3 More recently, Lauri Mälksoo has concentrated on the concept of state continuity in his analysis of Baltic developments.4 Speciﬁcally, he asked what was most instrumental in the restoration of Baltic independence. Was it the great power struggle during the Cold War or was it the principle of non-recognition and legal continuity? Ultimately, Mälksoo took comfort from his study of the Baltic example that idealism, values and principles are not only possible in international politics but can actually mould political realities. Closely related to legalistic studies of the Baltic problem are those essays on Baltic diplomatic missions in exile. James T. McHugh and James S. Pacy, for example, produced a highly detailed overview of the fate of the Baltic missions in different countries after 1940.5 Such diplomatic missions inevitably also became a favourite topic for memoirs.6 Other themes attracting researchers to the Baltic problem include Swedish and Finnish Cold War politics towards Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania and the question of Baltic refugees during and after the Second World War, particularly the repatriation of Baltic military from Sweden in 1945.7 Naturally, Soviet terror and Baltic resistance to it have not been ignored.8 In the last resort, however, study of the Baltic question during the Cold War period has yet to move very far beyond the legalistic tradition. Political, social and international aspects tend to be subsumed within the legalistic discourse. For this reason, the present volume highlights above all the political dimension to the Baltic question. Speciﬁcally, it seeks to locate this question ﬁrmly in the context of international politics. As well as examining differing national approaches to Baltic problems, it tries to explore the common ground that existed between certain countries in the matter of non-recognition of Soviet occupation and support for the restoration of independent Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Furthermore, unlike previous studies, largely concentrating on US policy, Western European attitudes and mindsets are also investigated more fully in this book. The volume opens by surveying the inter-war period, the better to explain the political background from which the Cold War Baltic question emerged in 1940. Vahur Made analyses British, French and German policies towards the Baltic states during the 1920s and 1930s. He contends that during the inter-war period, none of the leading Western European powers developed clear national interests in the Baltic region or towards the Baltic states. This emphatically cannot be taken to imply disinterest in the Baltic countries on the part of Britain and France, although neither

Introduction 3 power was willing, or indeed able, to challenge directly the two most powerful states in the region, Germany and the USSR. Only with the defeat of Germany, which manifestly set out during the 1930s to increase its controls over the Baltic countries, did Soviet domination of the region come to be seen by the West European powers as inevitable. Eero Medijainen’s analysis of US–Baltic relations during the 1920s and 1930s shows that, in contrast to the reasonably consistent policy lines pursued in the capitals of Western Europe, US attitudes towards the Baltic region evidenced pronounced changes of emphasis during the inter-war years. After the First World War, the USA was the last great power to recognise – in 1922 – the independence of the Baltic states. In Washington, the concept of a Russia one and indivisible somehow lasted far longer than was the case in European capitals. However, once the USA accorded recognition, it effectively disassociated the Baltic states from the USSR in its geopolitical thinking. Riga emerged as the centre of US intelligence services, where information was gathered on the USSR. Indeed, many young American diplomats (‘the Riga group’) began their careers in Latvia. Later, after 1934, when the USA recognised the Soviet government, those diplomats transferred to Moscow and some subsequently held leading posts in the Department of State. By July 1940, the acting Secretary of State Sumner Welles felt able to issue a declaration condemning the USSR’s forcible incorporation of the Baltic states, while proclaiming his country’s refusal to recognise the legitimacy of Soviet control of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. This act associated US policy towards the Baltic states with the so-called Stimson doctrine of nonrecognition of forcible seizure of territory. By refusing to regard the Baltic states as legal possessions of the USSR, Washington ﬁnally abandoned Wilsonian policies on the Russian problem. Furthermore, the small Baltic countries at Europe’s periphery – with whom the USA had never had deep relations – subsequently became an important element in Washington’s attempt to inﬂuence and restrict Moscow’s room for foreign policy manoeuvre. Jonathan L’hommedieu’s detailed study of the Sumner Welles declaration tackles several questions important for explaining American policy towards the Baltic states after the Second World War. The questions include: Where did the initiative for the Welles’ declaration originate? Who decided to link the declaration to the Stimson doctrine? What was the role of the Baltic diplomatic missions in the USA in drafting the text and inﬂuencing the thinking behind the declaration? What was President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s part in this process? To what extent was he aware of the declaration and how did he relate the principles set out in that document to the policies he pursued towards the Soviet Union during the Second World War? This book also examines in depth the Baltic policies of the USA and USSR during the Cold War. Paul Goble illustrates how the US policy of

4 J. Hiden et al. non-recognition of the Soviet incorporation of the Baltic states ﬁtted into Washington’s wider foreign policy strategies during the Second World War, the Cold War and the subsequent restoration of Baltic independence. Goble’s view is that the policy of non-recognition is still operative, in the sense that America has yet to pronounce its ending. After all, the Russian Federation continues to be reluctant to admit that the Baltic states were forcibly occupied and annexed by the USSR in 1940. Whether Soviet policy on the Baltic question was a reaction to such US pressure or, on the other hand, a successful pursuit of the Kremlin’s own agenda is a question tackled in Konstantin Khudoley’s article. Turning from a consideration of the positions of the two superpowers on the Baltic question during the Cold War, this book looks at the policies of Western European governments during the same period. Craig Gerrard’s article analyses the position of the United Kingdom, Suzanne Champonnois surveys France’s policy and Kristina Spohr Readman essays the Baltic policies of the former Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). As to those policies, all three chapters uncover continuities between the inter-war and Cold War periods. While Britain, France and the FRG joined the USA in proclaiming the policy of non-recognition of the Soviet incorporation of the Baltic states, West European actions remained more cautious than those taken by the Americans. For example, Baltic representatives in the United Kingdom, France and the FRG were not given the status of formally recognised diplomats that they enjoyed in the USA. Moreover, both London and Paris acceded to some of Moscow’s economic and ﬁnancial demands: Britain released Baltic gold deposits to the USSR and France accepted the Soviet annexation of Baltic embassy buildings in Paris. The FRG’s stance was perhaps closest to that of the USA, with the Bonn government holding a strict non-recognition line in property-related matters (admittedly partly because Baltic embassy buildings had been left to East Berlin). On the other hand, Germans also refused ofﬁcial diplomatic recognition for Baltic representatives in Bonn. They were allowed to remain mostly in the capacity of technical consultants, handling passport, citizenship and property issues for citizens of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Still, it is important to emphasise that all major Western European powers continued to recognise the existence of the citizenship of the three Baltic countries, so that the nationals of those countries could travel and represent themselves as citizens of their (independent) homelands. Following the chapters on speciﬁc countries and their policies, this book presents two case studies of different aspects of the Baltic question during the Cold War. In concentrating on the Estonian government-inexile, Vahur Made asks why this body was created by the Estonian community in the ﬁrst place, why it was not recognised by the USA and other Western powers (unlike the Estonian diplomatic representatives in the USA) and why the same option was not taken up by the Latvian and

Introduction 5 Lithuanian communities. Made concludes that the Estonian governmentin-exile was largely a project of the Estonian community in Sweden, which felt somewhat overshadowed by the inﬂuential North American Estonians, whose position was strengthened by US recognition of the Estonian Consulate General in New York. Helen Morris and Vahur Made have jointly contributed a chapter dealing with the Baltic issue in the agenda of international organisations during the Cold War. It analyses how the Baltic émigrés and dissidents attempted to bring the fate of their countries to the attention of the world community using the United Nations Organisation, CSCE, Council of Europe, European Parliament and other inter- and supranational forums and institutions. This chapter also explains how these institutions were used to present information about the Soviet-occupied Baltic states to the Western world. Finally, this book offers two concluding visions, beginning with Kristina Spohr Readman’s discussion of the ‘endgame’ of the Baltic question. Her focus is on the international context of the re-establishment of Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian independence in 1989–1991. More particularly, she analyses the Baltic issue within the context of German reuniﬁcation, the breakdown of the Soviet bloc in Eastern Europe and, ﬁnally, the demise of the Soviet Union itself. The author explains how the reemergence of independent Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania on the political map of Europe was seen from various capitals and how it contributed to the re-shaping of post-Cold War geopolitics in Europe. In the ﬁnal chapter, David Smith analyses how the principle of legal continuity has informed Baltic approaches to state and nation-building following the restoration of the three countries’ independence in 1991. He also uses issues of present-day Baltic foreign and security policy to illuminate how the Cold War legacy continues to shape relations between Russia and the West. Finally, the editors wish to express their gratitude to the Estonian Science Foundation and other donors whose help made possible the research for this book, as well as the preparation for its publication.

Notes 1

2

3

Boris Meissner. Die Sovjetunion, die baltischen Staaten und das Vökerrecht (The Soviet Union, the Baltic States and the International Law). Köln, 1956. Boris Meissner. Die baltischen Staaten im weltpolitischen und völkerrechtlichen Wandel (The Baltic States in the Transformation of World Politics and International Law). Hamburg: Bibliotheca Baltica, 1995. Robert A. Vitas. The United States and Lithuania: The Stimson Doctrine of Nonrecognition. Westport: Praeger 1990. Thomas D. Grant. United States Practice Relating to the Baltic States, 1940–2000, in Ineta Ziemele (ed.), Baltic Yearbook of International Law. 1, 2001. The Hague: Kluwer Law International. 2002. Edgars Dunsdorfs. The Baltic Dilemma: The Case of the de jure Recognition by

6 J. Hiden et al.

4 5 6 7

8

Australia of the Incorporation of the Baltic States into the Soviet Union. New York: Robert Spellers and Sons Publishers, 1975. Lauri Mälksoo. Illegal Annexation and State Continuity: The Case of the Incorporation of the Baltic States by the USSR. Leiden/Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 2003. James T. McHugh and James S. Pacy. Diplomats without a Country: Baltic Diplomacy, International Law and the Cold War. Westport, London: Greenwood Press, 2001. On Estonia, see: Ernst Jaakson. Eestile, Tallinn: SE & JS, 1995; Anne Velliste. Ernst Jaaksonile, Tallinn: Eesti Entsüklopeediakirjastus, 2000. Per Olof Bergström, Gerd Elmerskog, Åke Finnpers. Ockupationen av Baltikum 40 år (40 Years of Baltic Occupation). Karlstad: Ultrikespolitiska föreningen, 1980. Osvalds Freivlads. Sverige och det baltiska staaternas ockupation (Sweden and the Occupation of the Baltic States) Stockholm: Lettiska Nationella Fonden. Arturs Landsmanis. De misstolkade legionärerna (The Misunderstood Legionaries). Stockholm: Lettiska Nationella Fonden, 1970. Andres Küng. A Dream of Freedom: Four Decades of National Survival versus Russian Imperialism in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Cardiff: Boreas, 1981. Aleksander Warma. Diplomaadi kroonika (A Chronicle of a Diplomat). Lund: Wallin & Dalholm, 1971. Heikki Roiko-Jokela (ed.). Virallista politiikka – epävirallista kanssakäymistä: Suomen ja Viron suhteiden käännekohtia 1860–1991 (Ofﬁcial Politics – Unofﬁcial Relationships: Turning Points of the Finnish–Estonian Relations 1860–1991). Jyväskylä: Gummerus 1997. US Congress. Report of the select committee to investigate communist aggression and the forced incorporation of the Baltic states into the USSR: third interim report of the Select Committee on Communist Aggression, House of Representatives, eighty-third Congress, second session, under the authority of H. Res. 346 and H. Res. 438. Washington, DC, 1954. US Congress. Communist takeover and occupation of Estonia: special report no. 3 of the Select Committee on Communist Aggression, House of Representatives, eighty-third Congress, second session, under the authority of H. Res. 346 and H. Res. 438. Washington, DC, 1955. US Congress. Communist takeover and occupation of Latvia: special report no. 12 of the Selected Committee on Communist Aggression, House of Representatives, eighty-third Congress, second session, under the authority of H. Res. 346 and H. Res. 438. Washington, DC, 1954. US Congress. Communist takeover and occupation of Lithuania: special report no. 14 of the Select Committee on Communist Aggression, House of Representatives, eighty-third Congress, second session, under the authority of H. Res. 346 and H. Res. 438. Washington, DC, 1955. K.V. Tauras. Guerrilla Warfare on the Amber Coast. New York: Voyages Press, 1962. Viktor Niitsoo. Vastupanu 1955–1985 (Resistance 1955–1985). Tartu, 1997. Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.). The Sovietization of the Baltic States, 1940–1956. Tartu: Tartu Ülikooli Kirjastus, 2003.

2

The Baltic states and Europe, 1918–1940 Vahur Made

The indifference that our allies show towards us – of course, also to all other small nations except the Slavic countries – is intolerable. For every small thing one has to run at least ten times and yet no deﬁnite answer is given or the answer will be something like – that particular matter is to be decided by another ofﬁcial or institution. (Jaan Poska, Diary from the Peace Conference of Paris, Waba Maa, 1921: 21)

The First World War fundamentally altered the map of Europe, bringing entirely new political forces to the continent. Emerging from the conﬂict, Europe ceased to be dominated by great dynasties, instead hosting political forces competing against each other as well as for the support of the masses. However, it remained a place where traditional concepts of a closed system based on the balance of power between the Great Powers coexisted with newer thinking about cooperation between states and nations through the League of Nations and other international organisations. The end of the First World War can also be seen as a triumph of idealism, particularly for small countries, in so far as after that conﬂict small states seeking sovereignty breached the international system dominated by the Great Powers. The wave of idealism did not last long. The workings of the League of Nations set up in 1920 suggested that, despite the good intentions behind it, the Great Powers were ﬁnding it difﬁcult to abandon traditional power politics. Before 1914, Eastern Europe was divided into three big empires – Russian, German and Austro-Hungarian. Small nations, considered at the time to be sources of potential conﬂict, were subordinated to the big power centres. Events in the Balkans had served as a warning; the one region where the Great Powers had sanctioned small nations’ striving for independence had eventually turned into the ‘powder keg of Europe’. The Balkan wars of 1913–1914, the murder of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in Sarajevo in 1914, as well as other conﬂicts, served to reinforce

8 V. Made the opinion that too many small states provoked international unrest. The term ‘Balkanisation’ carried negative connotations, signifying the apparent inability of small states to develop mutual relationships and to avoid conﬂicts in the absence of control by the Great Powers. Although hopes that post-1918 international relations would differ radically from those prior to 1914 were disappointed, the First World War transformed Eastern Europe into a zone of small states, turning the struggles between nationalities – once part of great empires – into international conﬂicts. That is to say, the Great Powers had to confront the question how best to maintain peace and order in the region. One idea was to create a so-called ‘cordon sanitaire’.1 This would have relied chieﬂy on Poland, Czechoslovakia and Romania. However, the chief patron of this system, France, together with its military ally, Great Britain, lacked the resources and inclination to dominate Eastern Europe, thus leaving more room for movement to Germany and Russia.

Great Britain and the Baltic One of the most intriguing issues in dealing with the history of Baltic foreign policy relates to the region’s search for a power centre that would guarantee security. Was the ‘right’ direction chosen? To what extent did allegiances to the Great Powers change? Were allegiances switched too often with conﬂicting policy directions undertaken simultaneously? Did the foreign policies of the Baltic states have a sufﬁciently clear identity to justify talk of a close and purposeful connection with any one Great Power? After the Peace Conference of Paris, it was inevitable that the Baltic states and other small countries would look to Britain and the Allied Powers for support. The alternative, reliance upon Germany – even had this been desired – would have brought political isolation in Europe. Estonians are broadly seen as having preferred a political orientation towards Britain in the inter-war period. Certainly, Estonian diplomats maintained close contacts with the Foreign Ofﬁce. Britain also played an important role in the ﬁnance and foreign trade of Estonia. Moreover, Tallinn often made efforts to consult London about issues of domestic policy. A similar picture emerged in Latvia. While the situation in Lithuania was more complex, there too Britain was thought of as a possible ally. The British military presence in the Baltic Sea during 1918–1919 clearly encouraged attempts to gain British support. The Royal Navy’s participation in the battles of the Estonian War of Independence, its crucial role in repelling the attack of the Red Army against Tallinn in January 1919, as well as the later activities of the British military mission to Estonia and Latvia under Stephen Tallents, disposed Baltic politicians to think that London’s interest in their countries was permanent. It was hoped, especially in Tallinn and Riga, that it would be possible to get help from

The Baltic states and Europe 9 Britain in the event of any aggressive threat from Germany or Soviet Russia. The Estonian and Latvian governments looked for signiﬁcant political, diplomatic, military and economic support from London. Their foreign policy strategies were thrown into confusion when such assistance failed to materialise on the scale desired in Baltic capitals. Expressions of affection from the Baltic states were not particularly comfortable for the British government. The fact that there had been British military activity in the Baltic Sea area did not necessarily mean that Britain was committed to the establishment and protection of an independent Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Two other particular policy goals also informed British military activity in the Baltic Sea. One was to push Germany back from the area and to stabilise Finland and the Baltic region in order to avoid the creation of a pro-German ‘grey zone’. Following the end of the world war and the subsequent Paris Peace Conference, the intention was to minimise German military power and to ensure the withdrawal of all German troops from areas where they had remained active even after the Armistice. Second, British policy wished to prevent the Bolsheviks from seizing and maintaining power in Russia. It was not so much the social experiments and communist propaganda that troubled Britain but rather the fear that Russia would be isolated from the rest of Europe and would drop out of the alliance with Great Britain and France. London was also anxious to avoid closer Russian and German ties, which would have signiﬁcantly shifted the political power centres in Europe. Britain had already exhibited caution regarding Baltic independence at the time of its de facto recognition of Estonia in 1918. Under the terms of the document signed by Foreign Minister Arthur Balfour on 3 May 1918, Britain recognised the Council of Estonia as the de facto authority on the territory of Estonia. However, Balfour warned that Britain could not guarantee Estonia the right to participate in the Peace Conference.2 The decision thus enabled Britain to communicate with the government of Estonia but did not commit London to any long-term obligations. De facto recognition by France and Italy, on 13 and 29 May 1918, respectively, followed similar lines to that of Britain.3 France declared that the future status of Estonia would be decided at the Peace Conference. Estonians themselves would be expected to regulate their relations with Russia. Ants Piip, a member of the Estonian foreign delegation, noted a reserved British attitude during negotiations in London regarding the matter of armed assistance to Estonia. British help was conﬁned to dispatching a naval unit to the Baltic Sea and to selling weapons. No land forces could be promised for the Baltic states.4 On 14 February 1919, the Foreign and Colonial Ofﬁce (FCO) proposed that the Baltic Sea region be divided into broad spheres of inﬂuence between France and Britain. Agreement in principle was reached on this point by June 1919.5 The British zone lay in the northern part of the Baltic Sea and included

10 V. Made Finland, Estonia and Latvia. France controlled the southern part of the region, being primarily responsible for Poland, as well as the Klaipeda (Memel) region, formally placed under the administration of the League of Nations. In addition, Paris supervised the Allied military mission in Lithuania. The French zone of inﬂuence therefore also included Vilnius and the surrounding district – territory disputed by Poland and Lithuania. In this respect, it can be argued that Britain’s military involvement in the Gulf of Finland and in northern Estonia in 1919 did not constitute any special mission in support of Estonia’s independence, but was rather the result of a division of labour between Britain and France arising primarily from the need to manage developments on territories recently abandoned by German troops. Britain’s relatively heavy engagement in regulating the mutual relationships between Estonians and Latvians – including the establishment of the Estonian–Latvian border by the Tallents mission – served the same purpose. Joint action by the British and French successfully reduced Germany’s political–military inﬂuence in the Baltic states. When German troops ﬁnally left the Baltic region by the end of 1919, Allied inﬂuence over Estonia and Latvia was strong. The situation in Lithuania was more complicated. The country’s dispute with Poland made Allied–Lithuanian relations problematic. As a result, Lithuania found itself in comparative diplomatic isolation for much of the 1920s and 1930s. Alfred Senn has compared the confrontation between Lithuania and Poland with that of two post-Second World War crisis points: Israel–Palestine and India–Pakistan.6 Senn’s conclusion, that Lithuanians should have abandoned their national aspirations and yielded to the expectations of Poland, wholly corresponds to the attitude shared during the years of the Vilnius crisis both by the neighbours of Lithuania and by more distant countries. The latter also associated Lithuania’s territorial problem with the weakness of Latvia and Estonia. The Baltic region became viewed as an area burdened with trouble spots where it was better not to interfere and it was made clear that there would be no time to deal with issues related to the Baltic region at the Paris Peace Conference, where attention was focused above all on Germany.7 The diary of Jaan Poska, head of the Estonian Delegation at the Peace Conference of Paris, is very bitter in tone. Nor did military action against the Bolsheviks signal a change in Great Britain’s position concerning Russia’s right to rule over the Baltic states. As long as there was hope of overthrowing Bolshevism, London felt that any restored Russian government had the right to reincorporate the Baltic region, and this was a widely held view in Europe. When, in April 1920, Estonian diplomat Eduard Laaman left London for his homeland, he carefully analysed British attitudes towards Russia. In his view, the actions of British politicians over Russia were ﬁrst and foremost based on inadequate information resulting in the lack of a clear-cut policy on the Russian question. According to Laaman, Prime Minister David Lloyd George

The Baltic states and Europe 11 favoured adopting a wait-and-see attitude towards Russia. Laaman observed that as late as 1920 many British politicians supported the idea of establishing Russia as a federal state.8 John Hiden and Patrick Salmon reached the same conclusion in their study on the history of relations between the Baltic states and Europe, where they indicated that until the end of the First World War the Baltic region was known in the Foreign Ofﬁce chieﬂy as the place of residence of Baltic Germans. It seemed natural to the ofﬁcials of the British Foreign Service that the region should remain part of any reconstituted Russia.9 The process of recognising the Baltic states internationally dragged on into 1921. In December 1920, Britain voted against admitting the three countries to the League of Nations.10 The Allied Powers agreed to accord de jure recognition only when it became clear that the Bolsheviks were in fact capable of consolidating their power over Russia. There had been indications of this already in the second half of 1919 following the military failures of the White armies of Aleksandr Koltchak and Anton Denikin. The Red Army defeat of White troops under Peter von Wrangel in the Crimea, at the end of 1920, ﬁnally convinced London and Paris of the continuation of Bolshevik power. On France’s initiative, the Allied Supreme Council recognised Estonia and Latvia de jure on 26 January 1921. Lithuania received de jure recognition on 20 December 1922.11 In according de jure recognition, however, neither Britain nor France undertook any obligations with regard to the physical defence of the Baltic states. By the end of 1920, no trace remained of any inclination to intervene militarily in the Baltic region. It became more and more accepted that, were Russia to use force to establish its dominion over neighbouring countries, Britain and France would not be able to prevent it. And, when Soviet Russia and Germany signed the Rapallo agreement in 1922, the Allied military grip over Eastern Europe was further weakened. The Locarno agreements of 1925 were taken by the Soviet Union as an indication that Britain and France had no intention of interfering in events in Eastern Europe, although of course the agreements did have long-term implications for Britain’s responsibilities in Europe. Britain’s military presence in the Baltic Sea thus proved to be temporary. In July 1921, the Royal Navy was withdrawn from the Baltic Sea, and it was subsequently made plain to representatives of the Baltic states that London had no intention of interfering militarily in this area. Departure from the military engagements did not mean that Britain completely lost its interest in the Baltics. London continued to attach importance to the region’s political and economic stability, particularly after the abortive Communist coup in December 1924. However, the large-scale postwar obligations in other parts of the world simply did not allow Britain to develop an outreaching political and military presence in the Baltic area after 1919. In the Baltic capitals, of course, disappointment persisted, given the great hopes that had originally been placed on

12 V. Made Britain’s backing. Britain’s hesitancy comes out clearly in London’s reply to Latvian calls for assistance in November 1923. The request came after Estonia and Latvia had concluded an agreement on military cooperation on 1 November 1923. Soviet Russia had meanwhile increased the pressure by approaching Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania with a view to agreements relating to access to Germany. Viktor Kopp, the special representative of the People’s Commissar of Foreign Affairs, Georgy Chicherin, informed the Baltic states of Moscow’s wish for them to remain neutral in the event of political uprisings in Germany (at that time, Moscow still anticipated a successful communist uprising in the Weimar Republic). Kopp even submitted a secret enquiry to the Latvian ambassador in Moscow, Karlis Ozols, speciﬁcally asking whether or not Latvia would be prepared to allow the movement of Soviet troops to Germany through its territory.12 In this tense situation, the Latvian ambassador in London, Georgs Bisenieks, asked the Foreign Ofﬁce if and how Britain intended to support Latvia in the event of aggression by Soviet Russia. Bisenieks wanted to know whether London was ready to warn Moscow not to concentrate its troops on the Latvian border and not to attack the country. An attempt was also made to secure a British promise to sell arms to Latvia in the event of ﬁghting breaking out, as well as support for Latvia within the framework of the League of Nations. Britain’s response was evasive. The head of the Northern Department of the Foreign Ofﬁce, James Duncan Gregory, observed that although His Majesty’s government did not intend to interfere in this affair, Britain was ready to fulﬁl all her obligations under the League of Nations. The content of the correspondence between Bisenieks and Gregory also reached Tallinn via the Estonian ambassador in London, Oskar Kallas. The head of the Political Department of the Estonian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, August Schmidt, commented on the information coming from London as follows: It is possible that the British would have also given the same reply in different situations, . . . anyway it is a sort of a blow to our orientation towards Britain. . . . We have to come to a ﬁrm decision as to whether basing our foreign policy on England is romanticism or whether it will have any real basis in the future.13 Support was not in fact forthcoming. London was as evasive in its response to Estonia’s request for backing after the abortive communist rebellion in Tallinn on 1 December 1924 as it had been in its replies to Latvia. Merja-Liisa Hinkkanen-Lievonen has implausibly suggested that by the beginning of the 1920s the British Foreign Ofﬁce considered not only the Baltic region but all of Eastern Europe as a region of little political importance. The Baltic states, including Lithuania, were unanimously placed in

The Baltic states and Europe 13 Russia’s sphere of inﬂuence.14 On the other hand, both Hiden and Salmon believe that Britain could not afford to be indifferent towards the Baltic states and became more interested in the 1930s in using British commercial power to prevent an expansion of German interests in the Baltic region.15 Andres Kasekamp appears to adopt a similar position in his article on British policy towards the Baltic states at the beginning of the 1920s.16 Antonijs Zunda is rather more sceptical, arguing that by the early 1930s relations between Great Britain and Latvia had stagnated. Certainly, Joseph Edison, Britain’s ambassador in Riga at the time, was extremely pessimistic about the future of the Baltic states. The Naval Agreement concluded in 1935 between Great Britain and Germany was interpreted by the Latvians as an indication of Britain’s readiness to leave the Baltic states in Germany’s sphere of inﬂuence.17 Britain, with its resources barely sufﬁcient to meet its commitments in Europe and overseas, had already dispelled hopes in the Baltic states about establishing defence-related cooperation with London within the framework of the international Disarmament Conference launched in Geneva in 1932.18 In the spring of 1939, from March to May, Great Britain gave security guarantees to Poland, Greece, Romania and Turkey. At this stage, Britain was not yet in a position to engage extensively in military operations in Europe, but the guarantees were certainly a warning to Hitler that Britain could never be indifferent to German hegemony in the East. In the Moscow negotiations during 1939, France agreed to the wish expressed by the Soviet Union that the latter would be granted the right to send its troops into the Baltic states, should the ‘circumstances’ require it. Great Britain, however, did not directly support Moscow’s request nor did it oppose it. Nevertheless, Britain honoured its guarantee to Poland by going to war in 1939, and even if the annexation of the Baltic states by the Soviet Union in 1940 came as no great surprise by that stage, London continued to withhold recognition of Soviet actions thereafter.

France and the Baltic At the close of the First World War, there was much discussion of constructing a cordon sanitaire in Eastern Europe, whereby the Entente Powers, especially France, envisaged the creation of a buffer zone of small states between the Soviet Union and Germany. The intention was both to hinder the spread of communism to the West and to prevent the Soviet Union and Germany from mutual cooperation. The reality proved to be different. It is questionable, if indeed the cordon existed at all, whether it was the outcome of deliberate policy by the Great Powers. Did the latter really have any speciﬁc interests that they would be prepared to protect using military force? In addition, Finland and the Baltic states were left out of the system. Moreover, without the support of Germany, Western European powers were reluctant to back

14 V. Made efforts by the border states to unite against Russia, particularly if military action was involved. Since the idea of a cordon sanitaire is above all associated with French policy in Eastern Europe,19 it is useful to examine the extent to which France was ready to act in this region. In the event, France proved unwilling to go beyond rhetoric and limited diplomatic support. Such support was on offer only to France’s direct allies and did not involve the Baltic states.20 Even more modest was France’s defence-related contribution to Eastern Europe as a whole. Direct French military interference in Eastern Europe took place for the last time in 1920, when Poland was provided with military advisors and weapons in its war with Soviet Russia. The alliance system pursued by France in Eastern Europe was primarily directed against Germany and aimed at checking the spread of German inﬂuence. In this respect, Poland was the main recipient of French support. In the interests of resisting German ambitions, the French government did not wish Poland to pursue an anti-Soviet policy.21 In this respect, France’s intervention in Russia in the course of 1918–1919 was not so much aimed at overthrowing the Bolsheviks as at preventing German–Russian contacts.22 The dilemma for France’s policy towards Eastern Europe was that neither the cordon sanitaire nor the alliance system actually functioned in practice. Piotr Wandycz pointed out that the system could not operate in the way France desired, that is, primarily against Germany. Czechoslovakia had no desire to pursue a policy that was wholly directed against Germany, fearing that in the event of conﬂict, Germany would be able to besiege and destroy Czechoslovakia through cooperation with Austria and Hungary. On the other hand, Poland was as much concerned about the Soviet Union as it was about Germany and was therefore also reluctant to group all of its forces against the latter.23 Evidently, Paris was already becoming aware during the early 1920s that in security policy any hopes for Eastern European countries playing a full role were likely to be disappointed. As noted by Inesis Feldmanis and Aivars Stranga, the most important factor for France’s own security remained the support of Great Britain and the United States. The Locarno agreements of 1925 underlined Britain’s commitment to the defence of France. But large questions remained over what might happen if in the future France became engaged in war with Germany through meeting its treaty commitments to Poland and Czechoslovakia. Inevitably, France prioritised the defence of its own territory.24 Moreover, certainly compared with Poland and the Little Entente states, the Baltic countries were comparatively a peripheral matter for French foreign policy. Therefore, France had no system of political military agreements with these states; although given its concern for Poland, France can hardly be said to have had no important political–military interests in the wider Baltic Sea region. Thus, in common with Great

The Baltic states and Europe 15 Britain, France had also helped to force German troops to leave the Baltic area during 1918–1919. At the same time, however, the occupation of the Klaipeda region by Lithuania in 1923 did not result in any sanctions against Lithuania, indicating a degree of confusion in the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It was also the case that French economic interests in the Baltic countries, as outlined by Kalervo Hovi, were far less signiﬁcant than those of Britain and Germany.25 Admittedly, France supported the idea of establishing a Polish– Lithuanian federation and logically regarded Polish economic and political cooperation with Latvia and Estonia as important. Nevertheless, as Hovi has pointed out, Paris found it difﬁcult to agree to any Finnish–Baltic–Polish military union since this would have been mainly directed against the Soviet Union rather than against Germany. According to Hovi, France hindered the ratiﬁcation of the military cooperation agreement concluded on 17 March 1922. Under French pressure, Poland purportedly changed what was to have been a defence agreement into a purely political one, which the Finnish Parliament refused to join.26 This argument tries to qualify the widespread view that Finland’s inﬂexibility frustrated broad Baltic military cooperation, but it is doubtful that the Warsaw agreement failed speciﬁcally due to the counter-activity of France. What remains certain is that after 1920 France tried to avoid any measures in the Baltic region and Eastern Europe that might have been directed against the interests of the Soviet Union. Militarily, it was decisive that, without the consent of Germany, France did not actually have access to Eastern Europe. In military matters, the Rhine was France’s eastern border, as it was for Britain in the ﬁrst instance. To balance the inﬂuence of Germany, France had to ﬁnd ways of cooperating with the Soviet Union. Thus, nobody assumed in Paris that the Baltic states could be prevented from falling into the Soviet Union’s sphere of inﬂuence, undesirable as this was held to be.

The limits to entente policy in the Baltic region Given that orientation towards the Allied Powers played an essential role in the foreign policy of the Baltic states – especially of Estonia and Latvia – in the 1920s and 1930s, it is worth summarising the obstacles to AngloFrench involvement in the Baltic area. First, London and Paris considered the Baltic Sea region as an area historically dominated by Germany and Russia. Second, in the event of a crisis in Europe caused by Germany, support from Russia was seen to be vital. Russia had been an ally of Britain and France in the First World War and because of its geographical location did not directly endanger either Western power. Third, without Germany’s agreement, it was extremely difﬁcult – if not impossible – for Britain or France to interfere militarily in the Baltic region or Eastern Europe. The negotiations held in Moscow in

16 V. Made 1939 between the Soviet Union, Britain and France on securing Eastern Europe demonstrate this. This harsh reality played its part in the recognition by London and Paris of the Soviet Union’s interest in acting in the vicinity of her borders, even to the extent of penetrating German territory. Hints were dropped that Britain and France could not and did not wish to make difﬁculties for Russia if it wished to dispatch troops into the states of the cordon sanitaire (excluding the Balkans). At the same time, the importance of the ‘Baltic question’ was such that ultimately Stalin failed to achieve a second Munich and to secure territorial concessions from the West. He was compelled instead to consort with another dictator, securing his ends instead in partnership with Germany. Signiﬁcantly, although Britain and France declared war as a result of Hitler’s invasion of Poland in September 1939, no similar Western actions followed the Soviet attack on the Poles. At that stage, securing Soviet alliance against Hitler was of existential importance to Britain, and this deﬁnitely also set severe limits to what the British could achieve. Ultimately, a combination of all the above factors undoubtedly conspired to create a fatalistic attitude among the Western powers and a sense of expectation that Russia would sooner or later re-occupy the Baltic states. In that respect at least, the Soviet annexation of those states in 1940 came as no surprise to Britain and France, focused as they now had to be on their own survival.

Germany and the Baltic German ambitions towards the Baltics underwent remarkable changes after the end of the First World War. In 1915–1918, the Baltics had been both a battleﬁeld and an occupied territory for Germany. German intervention ended only in 1919 with the Landeswehr War and the Bermondt– Avalov affair, although between November 1919 and July 1920 a formal state of war existed between Latvia and Germany.27 Notwithstanding the political implications of Germany’s military actions, the Weimar Republic subsequently showed no signs of wishing to exert signiﬁcant control over the Baltics. After the Klaipeda region was united with Lithuania, the German–Lithuanian relationship remained tense (1923–1939), but it still offered no reason for Germany to plan a broader Baltic expansion.28 Berlin was not even certain that it wanted to include Lithuania in Germany’s sphere of inﬂuence. Granted, in 1939, Germany seized the Klaipeda region back from Lithuania, but as the course of events showed (secret protocol between Germany and the Soviet Union of 28 September 1939), the Reich had no plans to go further at that time. It could be said therefore that from the beginning of the 1920s Germany’s military–political position in the Baltic states gradually

The Baltic states and Europe 17 declined. One of the reasons was the dramatic weakening of the Baltic German community of Estonia and Latvia. Despite the fact that the draconian land reforms carried out in these countries in 1919 and 1920 generated much protest, even to the extent of involving the League of Nations, remarkably little international support was forthcoming for the former German landlords. By the middle of the 1920s, the Baltic Germans had lost their political importance in the eyes of Berlin, although they were useful for German economic policy. Their position in German foreign policy became arguably less important than that of the German communities in Central Europe and the Balkans. For Weimar Germany, the main impetus of Baltic policy was commercial, where it was in ﬁerce competition with Great Britain and France. Trade agreements were concluded with the Baltic states in 1923–1924. These were vital for Germany since they enabled the country to break through the post-Versailles restrictions on trading implemented by the Allied Powers. The German government gave greater support to the activities of Reich entrepreneurs than Britain gave to British businessmen interested in the Baltic states.29 At the same time, Germany and Britain together played an important part in bringing the Baltic economic system closer to Western Europe. Such a relationship could not continue once Adolf Hitler seized power in 1933, when the question of Poland began to dominate German Ostpolitik. This country was to become the major target for Hitler while the Baltic states were initially left aside from the direct strategic interests of Germany. The Baltic countries acquired more importance as possible bargaining counters in trying to agree on spheres of inﬂuence with the Soviet Union.30 Since it was of the utmost importance for Hitler to reach a consensus with the Soviet Union on the issue of Poland, Germany felt that it could afford to relinquish the Baltic states for tactical reasons for the time being. In this way, the secret protocol of 23 August 1939 became possible. Germany was aware that the position of the Baltic states in relation to the Soviet Union was weak and failed to indicate clearly to Moscow its actual intentions in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania until August 1939. Thus, for example, the Naval Agreement concluded between Great Britain and Germany in 1935 was open to the interpretation that Germany also aspired to control matters in the northern part of the Baltic Sea, including the Baltic states. There was outward ambiguity about German plans in trying to prevent Baltic cooperation. Although this was directed mainly at weakening Poland’s position in the region, it gave the impression that Germany was ready to interfere in the Baltics, should the status quo change there. On several occasions, Hitler made it seem to the Soviet Union that expansion into the Baltics would have a special place in his plans. The strategic importance of Estonia was emphasised in some of Germany’s war

18 V. Made planning, and any naval bases that might have been set up on the islands of Estonia and Finland would have theoretically given Germany a possibility to exclude the Red Fleet from the Gulf of Finland. It has also been said that Hitler had deﬁnite plans to expand in the Baltic. Thus, the secret order of 11 April 1939 preparing the attack against Poland also referred to the need to take action against Lithuania and the southern part of Latvia. In fact, this proposal was erased from the plan of attack, and on 7 July 1939, Germany concluded non-aggression pacts with Estonia and Latvia. Even so, in July 1939, it was still not absolutely clear either to Hitler or to Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop whether they should offer the Baltics to the Soviet Union in exchange for Stalin’s friendship. During the negotiations about the secret protocol held in Moscow on 23–24 August 1939, Ribbentrop abandoned southern Latvia to the Soviet Union, after a prior telephone conversation with Hitler. Further concessions were made in the case of Lithuania in September 1939, in order to get even more support from the Soviet Union now that war had broken out with Great Britain and France.31 It may be that uncertainty over Germany, rather than the formal support of Great Britain and France for the independence of the Baltic states, was the reason why the Soviet Union did not start exerting its influence in the Baltic states before 1939. The freedom to act came only with the conclusion of the Molotov–Ribbentrop pact on the night of 24 August 1939. Under the terms of the secret protocol of 28 September 1939, Berlin relinquished most of Lithuania to the Soviet sphere of influence, leaving Germany only a small area on the Lithuanian–German border, the so-called ‘Lithuanian Strip’. When the Soviet Union occupied Lithuania in June 1940, a third secret protocol was concluded, whereby Germany abandoned rights to the Lithuanian territory under its control for 7.5 million gold dollars.32 Therefore, by the end of 1939, Germany had accepted the Soviet domination of the Baltic states for the time being and had evacuated the Baltic German communities. However, the historical German presence on the eastern coast of the Baltic Sea may be said to have finally ended with the arrival of the Red Army in the Baltic once more in 1944–1945. Needless to say, Germany retained its emotional interest towards the region and rapidly restored its political, security and economic interests after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Summing up, in the 1920s and 1930s, leading powers in Western Europe – Britain, France and Germany – developed in various ways their interests towards the Baltic states. Even if these interests were not always manifested on a top level of high politics.

The Baltic states and Europe 19

Notes 1 A term originating with the French premier, Georges Clemenceau in 1919. 2 The decision of de facto recognition of Estonia by Great Britain of 3 May 1918. Estonian National Archives (Eesti Rahvusarhiiv – ERA). 957-11-12, p. 1. 3 The decision of de facto recognition of Estonia by France of 13 May 1918 and the decision of de facto recognition of Estonia by Italy of 29 May 1918. Ibid., pp. 1, 3, 4. 4 Piip from London, 3 January 1919. ERA. 957-11-7, pp. 2–3. 5 Kalervo Hovi. Cordon Sanitaire or Barriere de l’Est? The Emergence of the New French Eastern European Alliance Policy 1917–1919. Turku: Turun yliopiston julkaisuja 135, 1975, pp. 205–208. 6 Alfred Erich Senn. The Great Powers, Lithuania and the Vilna Question, 1920–1928. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1966, pp. 235–236. 7 Carr to Piip, 3 May 1919. ERA. 957-11-6, p. 63. 8 Laaman from London, 27 April 1920. ERA. 957-11-26, pp. 17–21. 9 John Hiden, Patrick Salmon. The Baltic Nations and Europe: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in the Twentieth Century. London, New York: Longman, 1991, p. 59. 10 Vahur Made. Külalisena maailmapoliitikas: Eesti ja Rahvasteliit 1919–1946. Tartu: Tartu Ülikooli Kirjastus, 1999, pp. 86–87. 11 Ibid., p. 91. 12 Albert Tarulis. Soviet Policy Toward the Baltic States 1918–1940. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1959. Pp. 70–71. Kärlis Ozols. Memuary Poslannika. Paris: Dom Knigi, 1938, p. 163. 13 Kallas to Schmidt, 30 November 1923; Schmidt to Kallas, 29 December 1923. ERA. 957-11-237, pp. 29–32. 14 Merja-Liisa Hinkkanen-Lievonen. British Trade and Enterprise in the Baltic States 1919–1925. Studia Historica 14. Helsinki: Suomen Historiallinen Seura, 1984, pp. 92–95. 15 Hiden and Salmon, op. cit. p. 74. 16 Andres Kasekamp. Without Getting Involved: British Policy Towards Estonia 1921–1925. Did They Depart by Moscow Train? 1 December 1924. Compiled by Jüri Ant. Tallinn: Koolibri, 1996, p. 94. 17 Antonii Zunda. Latvijas un Lielbritanijas attiecibas 1930–1940: Realitate un ˇ iluzijas. Riga LU Zurnala ‘Latvijas Vesture’ fonds, 1998, pp. 234–238. 18 Made, op. cit. pp. 190–191. 19 In 1921 and 1924–1927, Paris concluded cooperation agreements directed against Germany with Poland and the Little Entente states (Czechoslovakia, Romania and Yugoslavia). 20 In 1918–1920, the attitude of France regarding the Baltic states was that of a military base in the campaign against Bolshevism – not as an area which had a legitimate right to independence. This explains why France expressed rather sharp statements against peace negotiations between Estonia and Russia as well as its unwillingness to recognise the Baltic states de jure. Only after the failure of Wrangel’s military action at the end of 1920 did France change its attitude (see, e.g. Pusta from Paris, 6 February 1920. ERA. 957-11-66, p. 41; Made 1999, pp. 88–89). 21 Kalervo Hovi. Alliance de revers: Stabilization of France’s Alliance Policies in East Central Europe 1919–1921. Turun yliopiston julkaisuja 163. Turku: Turun yliopisto, 1984, op. cit. pp. 123–126. 22 Hovi 1975, pp. 117–118. 23 Piotr Stefan Wandycz. France and Her Eastern Allies 1919–1925: French–Czechoslovak– Polish Relations from the Paris Peace Conference to Locarno. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1962, p. 370.

20 V. Made 24 Inesis Feldmanis and Aivars Stranga. The Destiny of the Baltic Entente 1934–1940. Riga: Latvian Institute of International Affairs, 1994, pp. 11–12. 25 Hovi 1984, op. cit. pp. 66–67. 26 Ibid., pp. 118–119. 27 See Inesis Feldmanis. Vacija un Latvija: no de facto lidz de iure (1918–1921), Latvijas Vesture. Jaunie un Jaunakie Laiki 1, 1999, p. 67. 28 Until 1939, Germany had placed great hopes on Polish–Lithuanian conﬂict for the Vilnius area, hoping that if the conﬂict ended in a military confrontation, Germany could manage to get back the Klaipeda area. Germany supported the policy that the Soviet Union had towards Lithuania, the aim of which was to avoid ﬁnding solutions to the Polish–Lithuanian conﬂict. 29 John Hiden. The Baltic States and Weimar Ostpolitik. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987, pp. 171, 173, 182. 30 The Latvian historian Edgars Andersons states that after the Nazis seized power, German relations with Latvia and Lithuania deteriorated considerably; at the same time, the relations with Estonia are said to have improved and Estonia is said to have become very friendly with Germany. The German orientation of Estonia is also emphasized by the historian Margus Ilmjärv. This division of the Baltic states into German-friendly and German-hostile ones seems too black and white an approach. Germany did not consider Estonia its ally, and it also became clear to Estonian leaders by the end of the 1930s that there was no point expecting any anti-Soviet support from Germany (Edgars Ander¯ sons. Latvijas Vesture. Arpolitika I. Stockholm: Daugava, 1982, p. 697. Magnus Ilmjärv. Between the Soviet Union and Germany: The Baltic States and Finland 1934–1940 Academia 3. Tallinn: Estonian Academy of Sciences, 1993, p. 141). 31 Rolf Ahmann. Nazi German Policy Towards the Baltic States on the Eve of the Second World War, in John Hiden and Thomas Lane (eds). The Baltic and the Outbreak of the Second World War. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992, p. 51. 32 Bronis Kaslas. Three Secret Protocols: The Lithuanian Strip in Soviet–German Secret Diplomacy, 1939–1941. Journal of Baltic Studies. 4, 3, Fall 1973, p. 213. US Congress. Communist Takeover and Occupation of Lithuania. Special report no. 14 of the Select Committee of Communist Aggression. Washington, DC, 1955, pp. 8–9.

3

The USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states From recognition to the Cold War Eero Medijainen

There have been numerous studies detailing the US attitude towards the events in Russia in 1917, US responses to the Bolshevik coup and US–Russian relations from 1917 to 1920. As to those studies, there is little value in revisiting the version of Soviet propaganda dating from the Cold War. This stipulated that the capitalist USA nursed a particular hatred for the young socialist Soviet Russia and sought to destroy the ﬁrst proletarian state, to seize Russia’s riches and to subjugate its people.1 Most Russian historians today have dismissed this approach.2 Arno Mayer maintained that before and during the First World War, Russia was neither a friend nor an enemy to the Allies.3 Until the spring of 1917, Russia remained a region of little importance for US foreign policy and diplomacy. The pre-war and war-time US ambassadors George Marye and David Francis were senior functionaries of the Democratic Party rather than experts on Russia.4 Yet it would be unfair to say that US President Woodrow Wilson’s 14 points, which included the Russian issue (Point 6) in January 1918, were merely a reaction to the arrival in power of the Bolsheviks and their propagandist promises to follow the principle of national self-determination. Wilson did not call for the overthrow of the Bolsheviks, much less the partitioning of Russia, even though he was also pressurised in this direction. Wilson demanded the immediate liberation of Russia from occupation by the Central Powers. He even praised Lenin for having made an important step towards peace. The US President also opposed the pressure from the other Entente states immediately to send an expeditionary corps to Siberia to reopen the Eastern front. David S. Foglesong, in his study of US intelligence activities in Russia at this time, emphasised that the primary purpose of Wilson and the US administration in Siberia in 1918 was not to provide assistance to the insurgent Czechs or to restore the front against the Central Powers. Instead, by helping the Czechs, Wilson wished to provide opportunities for the development of Russian democracy in Siberia. According to Foglesong, US intelligence in Russia was far more extensive than the Bolsheviks realised. Its goals were to gather general intelligence; to ﬁnd

22 E. Medijainen resources for lessening the impact of Soviet propaganda and German inﬂuence; to encourage and support the opposition and to gain a competitive economic advantage for the USA, particularly over the United Kingdom and Japan.5 In Betty M. Unterberger’s opinion, however, the events in July 1918 forced Wilson to change his views. He had to respond to repeated requests for help from the Czechs and to Thomas Masaryk’s direct appeal that the USA defend the Czechs and Slovaks against attacks by prisoners of war (POWs) of the former Central Powers released from prison camps in Russia. Thus, on 6 July 1918, the President ﬁnally decided to send 7,000 Americans to Siberia, along with a Japanese force of equal size. At the same time, the corresponding declaration speciﬁcally stressed Wilson’s reluctance to use military intervention. He therefore disapproved of the founding of the Allied Military Council in Vladivostok and of General Frederick C. Poole’s military operations in North Russia.6 Even at the time of the Paris Peace Conference, Wilson had still not approved Allied intervention in Russia and preferred to abide by the principles set out in his 14 points, which Soviet diplomacy later skilfully exploited.7 He tried to employ economic means, issue state loans and support the private sector, with the aim of developing Russian–US trade relations. His hope was that commercial support would strengthen Russian private enterprise, which would then grow into the main pillar of a developing democracy. More broadly, the USA believed that Russian democracy could be strengthened by securing freedom of activity, a sound infrastructure and a market for agriculture and trade as well as giving support for local governments in some regions of Russia.8 Indeed, Linda Killen ﬁnds that the July 1918 decision was made primarily in order to protect economic interests in Russia. To this end, a special Russian Bureau was set up under the War Trade Board. Although the Board existed for a very short time, from October 1918 to July 1919, it played a very important role in Russia–US relations.9 Victor M. Fic agrees with many historians on Wilson that his policy on Russia was simple – absolute non-interference and neutrality. The decision to send 14,000 troops to Vladivostok to aid the Czechs cannot therefore be considered an intervention or indeed interference in the internal affairs of Russia. Neither did the President himself regard it as such.10 Unlike others, however, Fic does not have a high opinion of Wilson’s nonintervention policy. He does not see it as a correct political decision, and his study seeks to prove that the decision not to interfere in and to withdraw from Russia was a colossal mistake, having severe consequences for both Russia itself and the wider world. According to Fic, Wilson’s abrupt decision of 6 July 1918 seized the initiative until then held by the Allies. Thus, at a meeting that same day in the White House, the idea of a Great Expedition and the possibility of reopening the Eastern front was not even discussed. In other words, the

USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states 23 President’s policy of doing nothing was replaced with the slogan of doing something. Effectively, the democratic prospects in Russia were betrayed, and this was accomplished by the man who declared that his goal was to save the world with democracy.11 The ﬁnal act of forsaking democratic Russia was committed in the White House on 25 September 1918, when the issue of the Czechs was tabled once more in connection with the approach of a new winter. Here, it was again decided that no further US contingents would be sent to Russia. Apart from betraying the White Russians, such a decision signalled, in Fic’s opinion, a ﬁnal split between the USA and the rest of the Entente.12 Neither was any accord attained later, at the Paris Peace Conference.

Early US contacts with the Baltic states From May 1918, the military attachés of the Western powers helped the Bolsheviks move large quantities of military supplies away from Petrograd. The USA was represented by Naval Attaché Peter I. Bukowski, who was made commander-in-chief of the American military mission in Russia at the same time as Colonel James A. Ruggles and Raymond Robins were appointed the Mission’s ofﬁcers for liaison with the Bolsheviks.13 These high-ranking ofﬁcers are frequently referred to in general analyses of Russo-US relations. The expeditionary force dispatched to North Russia by Wilson in May 1918 was to operate under the command of an English general and was assigned to defend the Allied military stores against possible attacks by the Germans and the White Finns. Kennan calls the expedition one of the unluckiest operations by the Americans in Russia.14 Early September 1918 saw several serious clashes between the Allies and the Bolsheviks in North Russia, with the Americans bearing the brunt of the ensuing battles.15 In March 1919, the American delegation at the Paris Peace Conference decided to send a special military mission headed by Colonel Warwick Greene to the Baltic states.16 Shortly afterwards, they also sent the former US Naval Attaché to Scandinavia John Gade. The latter conﬁrmed that the Baltic states deserved all-round support. Some other US experts on Russia also recommended that the Baltic states be recognised as early as the Paris Conference. The prevailing opinion, however, was that the Balts lacked the experience for self-determination, and since tendencies towards Bolshevism could be found in the region, their independence could not be recognised. Nevertheless, the delegation was ready to send a chargé d’affaires ad interim or a special commissioner to the Baltic states. John Gade was duly given the latter title and arrived in Tallinn, along with his aides, in November 1919.17 According to the émigré Lithuanian historian Albert Tarulis, Gade was

24 E. Medijainen prejudiced against the Baltic states, and against Lithuanian politicians in particular.18 With respect to Estonia, at least, Gade argued that if the country were to implement Bolshevist promises of land reform or make peace with the Bolsheviks, then aid should be suspended.19 Even before all the US representatives in the Baltic states were subordinated to Gade, Red Cross representations were operating there. In the summer of 1918, the USA announced its plan to send Red Cross missions to war zones. These would often function as a cloak for covert intelligence operations. The ﬁrst such missions arrived in the Baltic states in the spring of 1919. They were primarily pursuing the release and exchange of POWs but were also engaged in other activities.20 In the summer of 1919, seven large US ships arrived in the Gulf of Finland, carrying 18,000 tons of ﬂour, 1,500 tons of bacon and thousands of tons of other foodstuffs. This represented a peculiar contribution from the USA in the ﬁght against Bolshevism and had been arranged by the Hooverled American Relief Administration (ARA) – the association for helping the famine-stricken. For most American ofﬁcials, direct military intervention in the Baltic states was inconceivable. It entailed the risk of heavy casualties and also of misunderstandings with the Allies. Therefore, they conﬁned themselves to humanitarian aid, hoping to beat Bolshevism with bread. In 1920, John Gade was replaced by Evan E. Young. Under Young, several other men, who were in due course to shape the orientation of US foreign policy and diplomacy, arrived in the Baltic states. They included Loy Henderson and Robert F. Kelley. Later, at the State Department, these ﬁgures charted a steady course in dealing with Russian affairs. Young and Kelley became long-serving heads of the special East European Division, and thanks to them the US representations in the Baltic states in the 1920s and 1930s turned into key centres for gathering information about and training experts on Russia.21 From 1920 to spring 1922, Evan E. Young repeatedly tried to break Washington’s and, in particular, the State Department’s opposition to the de jure recognition of the Baltic states. He regularly sent ofﬁcial proposals to that effect.22 In spite of this, the US authorities persisted in the principle of ‘a united and indivisible Russia’. Paradoxically, this belonged to the political lexicon of the Americans alongside the idea of national selfdetermination.

The US de jure recognition of the Baltic states On 28 July 1922, US consul to Tallinn Charles H. Albrecht informed Estonian Foreign Minister Ants Piip of the US decision to grant de jure recognition. On the same day, identical declarations were also made by the US representatives in Riga and Kaunas.23 There had been considerable obstacles to this development: consider, for instance, the communication of 3 April 1922 in which the Finnish envoy to Tokyo, Gustav J. Ramstedt,

USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states 25 informed Oskar Kallas, Estonia’s representative in London of a conversation with the US ambassador to Japan Charles B. Warren. During the conversation, Warren had maintained that ‘such dwarf states cannot be recognised, not even temporarily’ and that ‘Russia will rise again and will need her Baltic ports’. Warren emphasised that Russia must not be divided or partitioned. The Finnish ambassador reminded him, though, that the Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians were all different nations and had the right to self-determination, as Wilson had promised in 1918. In response, Warren asserted that the days of nationalism were over, adding that ‘if everyone secedes from Russia on the grounds of their language, then who would pay Russia’s debts?’24 Kallas passed this communication to N. Köstner, who was then acting as Estonia’s unofﬁcial representative in the USA. On 17 May 1922, Köstner observed that Warren’s talk was not simply the incautious remark of a novice diplomat, but rather contained ‘the quintessence of Washington’s political wisdom’. Köstner emphasised that there was no sense in talking to Americans about national independence or a nation state. He held that the US ofﬁcials did not recognise the concept of nationality, did not understand it and in fact had no desire to. The US de jure recognition was not, however, as unexpected as it might appear from the Estonian diplomatic correspondence. Tarulis for his part attributes it primarily to the withdrawal of Japanese troops from the Far East, which assuaged US fears that Japan might strengthen itself considerably at Russia’s expense. Also important during the summer of 1922 was the fact that former Russian representative to the US Boriss Bahmetyev (Bahmetjev, Bakhmetov, Bakhmeteff) ceased to brief against the Baltic states. According to Köstner, Bahmetyev’s considerable inﬂuence at the State Department largely explained why ‘the [US] newspapers were closed’ to the Baltic states prior to spring 1922. Bahmetyev’s change of heart rested on the contention that these new states could be recognised temporarily, pending the restoration of law and order in Russia. For the future Russia, it might even be beneﬁcial if the Baltic states could avoid the devastating policies of the Bolsheviks and develop their economies, in particular the transportation system. Another relevant factor was unrelenting pressure from the representatives of the Baltic states. Tarulis speciﬁcally points to a series of initiatives on recognition by the Lithuanians living in the USA. Mainly thanks to them, about a million signatures were collected for a petition demanding recognition. One signature among many was that of the then leader of the Foreign Affairs Committee, Senator Henry Cabot Lodge. Although known to oppose the Versailles Peace Treaty, the terms of which underpinned a balance of power in Europe conducive to the survival of the Baltic states, Lodge was apparently mindful of the many exiled Lithuanians living in his constituency. Efforts to establish Baltic representations in the USA had been ongoing ever since the proclamations of independence. On 14 April 1922, Latvia

26 E. Medijainen despatched its new representative, Karlis Seja, with the primary task of procuring de jure recognition. The Estonian Foreign Minister A. Piip, for his part, sent N. Köstner to New York as Acting Consul. Since Washington declined to issue a diplomatic visa to the Baltic diplomats, Köstner was deemed to be an ofﬁcer sent on a mission by the Estonian Legation in London rather than a diplomat. He was certainly not treated as such by the USA and was forbidden to use the sign ‘Legation or Consulate’. Nevertheless, the Estonian consulate in New York commenced its activities de facto in July 1921. Later, the signs were posted anyway by the Estonian and Latvian consuls (occupying the same house), despite protests. The Latvian representative K. Seja was in a somewhat better situation, yet to Köstner’s knowledge Seja’s policy of ‘climbing without soap’ gained nothing but the honour of going horse riding with Bahmetyev. Ultimately, the Baltic states’ debts to the USA became an important means of pressure to procure recognition. Estonia’s debt totalled 17.8 million dollars at the end of 1924. For the three Baltic states collectively, the sum was upwards of 30 million dollars. The size of the debts, the terms and conditions of repayment, interest, etc. not only caused concern in Estonia but also mattered to the USA.25 The recovery of all the debts related to the First World War came on the political agenda in the USA in 1922. Although the debts of the Baltic states were small compared to those of other states, repayment was considered important. Non-recognition of the Baltic states would also have set a precedent for debts being left unpaid. Indeed, Köstner’s main argument against closing down the representation was precisely the claim that Washington ‘should then turn to Moscow over the issue of the debts’ (Soviet Russia had refused to repay the debts of Tsarist Russia and of the Provisional Government). In his letters to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Consul stressed that until recognition there was no reason to ‘let the debts to America ruin your peace of mind’. In the United Kingdom and France, there was some concern in April–May 1922 over the Russo-German Rapallo Treaty, which was concluded at the World Economic Conference in Geneva. Had such a treaty also been concluded between other states and Soviet Russia, this might perhaps have cleared the controversies over the issue of debts in Europe, since the Rapallo Treaty involved a mutual renunciation of such claims by the two signatories, Germany and Russia. Such a scenario would have left the USA isolated, and one can thus speculate whether the recognition of the Baltic states was in fact designed to prevent the emergence of a common front between the Baltic states and Soviet Russia. Such an alliance seemed to be in the making in the spring of 1922, in particular over the issues of debt and recognition. Furthermore, the Baltic states and Soviet Russia were making preparations for a joint disarmament conference, which was ultimately postponed until December 1922. The disarmament issue may have been the fourth factor inﬂuencing

USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states 27 the US change of heart over recognition. In February 1922, a disarmament conference came to a close in Washington. Since the preceding November, the USA, United Kingdom, France, Italy and Japan had been discussing the possibility of reducing the size of their naval forces. At the same time, the issue of neutralisation of the Baltic Sea was raised in the Baltic states, demonstrating that these countries had to be seriously reckoned with. Neutralisation of the Baltic Sea would have set an example and exerted moral pressure on naval superpowers, among others.26 As a ﬁfth aspect, it may be assumed that the sums the Baltic states spent on inﬂuencing US politicians started to take effect. In February 1922, Köstner had apparently been told – not for the ﬁrst time – that he should have made contributions towards obtaining recognition and that this omission was why he now had to wait. Immediately after arriving in the USA, he had reported that if recognition was urgent approximately 50,000 dollars would have to be raised jointly with Latvia. In his private talks with US politicians, they often asked him how expediting the matter would beneﬁt their party’s treasury and themselves. Money was certainly expended. For instance, the representatives of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania paid a total of 600 dollars to the Washington Post for it to publish an interview with them. Copies of the piece were then purchased and sent as a gift to inﬂuential persons. The beneﬁt was at least that the newspaper ceased ‘darning the Baltic states’. At the end of 1921, Köstner spent another 290 dollars on bottles, which at the time of prohibition were apparently the surest means of gaining access to people’s hearts both in Washington and in New York. Particular mention should be made of the activities of New York attorney and member of the sixty-third, sixty-fourth, sixty-ﬁfth and sixty-seventh Congress Walter M. Chandler (8 December 1867–16 March 1935). Chandler had studied history and law in Berlin and Heidelberg. After the Baltic states became independent, he acquainted himself with the leading local politicians and visited all the capitals. Chandler had been deemed a special friend of the Baltic states, through whom attempts were also made to inﬂuence Washington. However, Chandler’s friendship was not entirely altruistic: it was bought by the Baltic states. As a more indirect reward, he could reckon with the votes of thousands of Latvians and Lithuanians. In addition, 2,500–3,000 Estonians were living in New York in 1922. Another factor to be considered as an influence on the US State Department was aid from the neighbours of the Baltic states. In April, the Finnish Legation in Washington was advised by its Ministry of Foreign Affairs to expedite the recognition of the Baltic states in the USA. Quite what and how much Finnish envoy Leonard Åström was able and willing to do is yet to be ascertained. The Poles, too, are said to have promised their ‘intervention’ to the Latvian representative; however, N. Köstner was highly sceptical of them. Polish and Finnish pressure on Washington over difficult issues was indeed scarcely credible. Even so,

28 E. Medijainen some efforts at cooperation between the Baltic states could be observed in the spring of 1922. Finally, full unconditional de jure recognition of the Baltic states also allowed the USA to demonstrate that its policy in the region was independent of Europe, where for example Lithuania had been promised only conditional recognition, tied to the freely navigable Nemen River, or Lithuanian concessions to Poland. In the 1930s, the US State Department suggested (at least to Latvia) the formation of a joint representation of the Baltic states. Such an option was ruled out in Tallinn, even though plans for merging foreign representations were also contemplated elsewhere. The ‘quarrel of two herring cans’ or simply the petty pride of the tiny countries prevented this. The Estonian Consul and Military Attaché Viktor Mutt warned the Ministry of Foreign Affairs against complete closure of the legation and suggested that it be reopened ‘in the interests of self-defence’.27 Tallinn still decided in favour of closure, and in early 1932, V. Mutt was dismissed. The position of consul was given to the former secretary Karl Kuusik. After an unexpected change of personnel in 1938/1939, the new consul Johannes Kaiv remained in New York until his death in 1965. The annexation of the Baltic states to the Soviet Union hit the official representatives of these states hard. Thanks to the statement of the US Secretary of State Sumner Wells on 23 July 1940, however, the Baltic states were treated according to the Stimson Doctrine, which stipulated non-recognition of territorial changes effected by the use of force or by the threat of force.28 This gave Baltic representatives in the USA the unique opportunity to remain the main bearers of the continuity of Baltic independence. They obeyed neither the order to return home received on 6 August 1940 nor the command to terminate the functions of the legations, issued in September 1940.29 The Baltic diplomats successfully countered Moscow’s attempts to take over the consulate and offered shelter to the former Baltic diplomats arriving from Europe.30 Backed by the authority of the USA, the same doctrine remained in effect for another 50 years and was accepted by the other Western powers.

Baltic states as the factors of the Cold War In the end, Washington disregarded the so-called political realities and did not recognise the annexation of the Baltic states, although for a time (1943–1945) the decision hung in the balance. The scales may have been tipped by Stalin’s stupidity or negligence rather than by the resolve of the White House administration to stick to principle.31 During the Second World War, Churchill was willing to recognise Soviet domination in Eastern Europe. Arguably, he was prepared to recognise the incorporation of the Baltic states into the Soviet Union even in

USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states 29 1941–1942.32 The main obstacle to this was his apprehension of the reaction from America.33 Some argue that two different concepts were competing in the USA with regard to what stance should be adopted towards the USSR. The ﬁrst – based on traditional realpolitik – regarded the Soviet Union as a superpower that had deﬁnite ambitions, but whose main concern, as in the case of any other country, was to consolidate its security. This mentality, the socalled Yalta axiom, was said to be characteristic of Roosevelt and his close advisers. Until 1943, the proponents of such an outlook strove to develop and support friendly relations between the USA and the Soviet Union.34 The other mentality has been dubbed the Riga axiom and, according to Yergin, it became prevalent in Washington at the end of the Second World War. Its main representatives were supposedly the men whose diplomatic careers began in the 1920s and 1930s, when they were ﬁrst assigned to their posts in Riga and Tallinn. Yergin describes George Kennan as the chief ideologist of this group.35 It was said to have seen the Soviet Union as a country that was pursuing world revolution and that denied any possibility for peaceful coexistence. Such a country could be stopped only by the containment of its military force, something that Kennan recommended most emphatically in his Long Telegram of 1946. Believers in the Riga axiom primarily rely on the reminiscences of George F. Kennan and Charles E. Bohlen.36 Both recall their services in Latvia and Estonia in the second half of the 1920s as a period of training for their future work in Russia. In reality, the experts on Russia – Kennan and Bohlen – were apparently ready to turn a blind eye to the Baltic countries, had this been necessary in order to maintain normal relations with Moscow. As proﬁcient diplomats, they would have worked out a compromise acceptable to both parties. In general, US diplomacy towards the Baltic states from 1940 on should not be viewed as being absolutely consistent. US decisions and attitudes hung on a number of different interest groups, which were distinguished from one another primarily by their attitude towards the Soviet Union and, in particular, towards the issue of the Baltic states.37 Those politicians and diplomats who sympathised with the Baltic states had been in close contact with them ever since 1918–1919 and the days of the struggle for de jure recognition. A number of them had been connected with the US legations and consulates in the Baltic states during the 1920s and 1930s. For instance, the US High Commissioner in the Baltic states from 1920 to 1922, Evan E. Young, was during the 1940s appointed head of Russian Affairs at the Department of State, which soon expanded into Eastern European Affairs. Young’s relations with the US ofﬁcial representatives to the Baltic states during the 1920s continued to be trustworthy. After Young left, Robert F. Kelley became a long-term director of Eastern European Affairs. It is his name that is most of all associated with the birth of the so-called Riga Group.

30 E. Medijainen Those who belonged to the group were endearingly called Kelley’s bright boys. Undoubtedly, Kelley was engaged not only with Russia, although in the USA he laid a basis for the research programme on Russian affairs, but he was also well aware of the problems in the Baltic states. Upon Young’s recommendation, the US Foreign Service employed Loy W. Henderson, who became the most dominant member of the Riga Group. Henderson was traditionally considered a specialist on Russia, but he did not speak Russian very well. Later Henderson also worked in Moscow, but he maintained his contacts with the Baltic states. Henderson’s links with Latvian diplomats and politicians in exile, at least on an unofﬁcial level, were probably quite close even in the 1940s and 1950s. He apparently argued at every turn that Soviet expansion in the Baltic region should be placed on a par with German and Soviet aggression as far as US policy was concerned.38 It is Henderson’s name that is associated ﬁrst and foremost with the nonrecognition of the occupation of the Baltic states. He argued that the resolution as such was useful for the USA. By non-recognition, the USA would hold all the trump cards when, after the war, a major peace conference convened in Eastern Europe to resolve its destiny, as happened after the First World War. Such a development seemed realistic enough, at least in the summer of 1940. These personal connections were possibly the decisive factor for the survival of the Baltic states after 1940, at least de jure.

Acknowledgement The research for this chapter was supported by Estonian Science Foundation grant no. 5484.

Notes 1 P. Vihalem, J. Krastin and R. Sarmaitis. Ameerika-Inglise interventsioon Baltimaades aastail 1918–1920 [The US–British Intervention in the Baltic States in 1918–1920]. Tallinn: Eesti Riiklik Kirjastus, 1954. 2 3 Arno Joseph Mayer. Politics and Diplomacy of Peacemaking. Containment and Counterrevolution at Versailles, 1918–1919. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1967 (1968), p. 285. 4 David Mayers. The Ambassadors and America’s Soviet Policy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 72–75. 5 David S. Foglesong. ‘America’s secret wars against Bolshevism’, in U.S. Intervention in the Russian Civil War, 1917–1920, Chapel Hill: The University of Carolina Press, 1995, pp. 111–112, 164. 6 Betty Miller Unterberger, ‘Woodrow Wilson and the Bolsheviks: The “Acid Test” of Soviet–American Relations’. Diplomatic History. 11, 2, 1987, pp. 71–90.

USA, Soviet Russia and the Baltic states 31 7 John M. Thompson. Russia, Bolshevism, and the Versailles Peace. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1966, p. 91. 8 Leo J. Bacino. Reconstructing Russia. U.S. Policy in Revolutionary Russia, 1917–1922. Kent, OH, London Kent State University Press, 1999. 9 Linda Killen. The Russian Bureau. A Case Study in Wilsonian Diplomacy. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1983, pp. 2, 7, 32. 10 Betty Miller Unterberger. The United States, Revolutionary Russia, and the Rise of Czechoslovakia. Chapel Hill: The University of South Carolina Press, 1989, p. 265. 11 Victor M. Fic. The Collapse of American Policy in Russia and Siberia, 1918. Wilson’s Decision Not to Intervene (March–October, 1918), Boulder, CO: Columbia University Press, 1995, pp. 139–140, 330. 12 Fic, op. cit. p. 381. 13 Bacino, op. cit. pp. 56–57. 14 George F. Kennan. The Decision to Intervene. Soviet–American Relations, 1917–1920. Vol. II. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1958, p. 379. 15 Christopher Dobson and John Miller. The Day We Almost Bombed Moscow. The Allies War in Russia 1918–1920. London, Sydney, Auckland, Toronto: Hodder and Stoughton, 1986, p. 133. 16 Foglesong, op. cit. p. 245. 17 John A. Gade. All My Born Days. Experiences of a Naval Intelligence Ofﬁcer in Europe. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1942, p. 154. 18 Albert N. Tarulis. American–Baltic Relations 1918–1922: The Struggle Over Recognition, Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1965. 19 Foglesong, op. cit. pp. 245–261. 20 Loy Wesley Henderson. A Question of Trust: The Origins of U.S.–Soviet Diplomatic Relations: The Memoirs of Loy W. Henderson (Edited, with an introduction, by George W. Baer), Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press, Stanford University, 1986. 21 Frederic L. Propas. Creating a Hard Line Toward Russia: The Training of State Department Soviet Experts, 1927–1937, Diplomatic History 8, 3, 1984 pp. 209–226. 22 Henderson, op. cit. pp. 150–153. 23 For a detailed account of the US recognition of the Baltic states, see Tarulis, 1965. Tarulis’ monograph is primarily based on US archives and the printed press of the time. He had no access to the Baltic archives, and several inaccuracies can be found in his study. The broader issues related to the recognition of the Baltic states have been tackled in particular by Malbone H. Graham. See M. W. Graham. The League of Nations and the Recognition of States. Berkeley, University of California Press, 1933; M. W. Graham. The Diplomatic Recognition of the Border States. Part II. Estonia, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1939; M. W. Graham. The Recognition of Baltic States in the Conﬁguration of American Diplomacy, Pro Baltica. Stockholm: EMP, 1965. 24 Finnish National Archive (SKA). G. J. Ramstedtin kokoelma. Kansio: 10. 25 Piia Jullinen. ‘Eesti Vabariigi sõjavõlg Ameerika Ühendriikidele’ [The Republic of Estonia’s war debt to the United States], Kleio, 2, 1989, pp. 44–48, 57–61; ‘Eesti võlg Ameerikale’ [Estonia’s debt to America], Eesti Majandus, 33/34, 1925, p. 551. 26 Donald J. Stoker, Jr. ‘Unintended Consequences: The Effects of the Washington Naval Treaties on the Baltic’, Journal of Baltic Studies, pp. 80–94. 27 Eesti Rahvus Arhiiv (ERA). F. 957. N. 8. S. 350. L. 148; S. 351. L. 51. 28 H. William Hough. ‘The Annexation of the Baltic States and its Effect on the Development of Law Prohibiting Forcible Seizure of Territory’, Journal of International and Comparative Law, 6, 2, 1985; Thomas R. Maddux. Years of Estrangement. American relations with the Soviet Union, 1933–1941, Tallahassee: University Presses of Florida 1980, p. 131.

32 E. Medijainen 29 E. E. Ameerika eestlaste võitlus punastega. Väliseestlase kalender 1957 [American Estonians’ ﬁght against the Communists. The calendar of the exiled Estonians 1957], pp. 40–53. 30 James T. McHugh and James S. Pacy. Diplomats without a Country. Baltic diplomacy, international law, and the Cold War, Westport, CT, London: Greenwood Press, 2001. 31 John Lewis Gaddis. The United States and the End of the Cold War. Implications, reconsiderations, provocations, New York: Oxford University Press, 1992, pp. 89–90; David Mayers. The Ambassadors and America’s Soviet Policy, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995, p. 153; W. Averell Harriman and Elie Abel. Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin 1941–1946, New York: Random House, 1975, pp. 226–227; Charles Bohlen. Witness to History 1929–1969, New York: Norton, 1973, p. 151. 32 Thomas Hugh. Armed Truce. The Beginnings of the Cold War 1945–46, London: H. Hamilton, 1986, p. 317. 33 John A. Lukacs. The Great Powers & Eastern Europe, New York: American Book Company, 1953, pp. 443, 446–470. 34 Lisle A. Rose. After Yalta, New York: Scribner, 1973, pp. 5–10. 35 Daniel Yergin. Shattered Peace: The Origins of the Cold War and the National Security State, Boston: Houghton Mifﬂin, 1977. 36 George F. Kennan. Memoirs 1925–1950, Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown and Company, 1967; George F. Kennan. Sketches from a Life, New York: Pantheon Books, 1989; Charles E. Bohlen. Witness to History 1929–1969, New York: Norton, 1973. 37 Yergin, op. cit. p. 27; David Mayers. George Kennan and the Dilemmas of US Foreign Policy, New York: Oxford University Press, 1988, pp. 24–25. 38 De Hugh Santis. The Diplomacy of Silence. The American Foreign Service, the Soviet Union, and the Cold War, 1933–1947, Chicago, IL, London: University of Chicago Press, 1980, pp. 41–42.

4

Roosevelt and the dictators The origin of the US nonrecognition policy of the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states Jonathan L’hommedieu

After World War I, the United States embarked upon a course of isolationism, determined as far as possible not to become involved in any further European conﬂicts. As to the east Baltic region, it was thought to have no great strategic importance for Washington. Despite granting full de jure recognition to all three Baltic states by July 1922, the United States did not initiate any meaningful political or economic development with the region. Nevertheless, there were normal albeit minimal diplomatic relations between the Americans and the nascent Baltic republics of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. The situation appeared to change fundamentally as a result of the secret protocol contained in the 1939 Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact, which ultimately relegated Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania to the Soviet sphere of inﬂuence.1 In the course of 1939–1940, the Soviet Union issued a series of ultimatums to the Baltic governments that eventually led to the full annexation of the states.2 It prompted a strong reaction from the United States and on 23 July 1940, acting US Secretary of State Sumner E. Welles issued a harshly worded condemnation of Soviet actions. This and the reafﬁrmation of the continued recognition of the independence of the Baltic states brought Baltic issues to the front pages of every major newspaper in the United States in 1940. It also opened one of the most puzzling and paradoxical discourses in diplomatic history. Given the ultimate fate of the Baltic states after World War II, several questions need to be asked about the policy of nonrecognition. To what extent had senior US governmental ofﬁcials really supported the earlier policy? Was the Welles Declaration representative of a deliberate policy change, or merely an anomaly? Furthermore, was the policy strictly intended for a domestic audience in an election year or was it genuinely enacted in good faith to the international community? At ﬁrst glance, the traditional approach of viewing the non-recognition doctrine against the background of US–Baltic or US–Soviet relations makes it seem more paradoxical in nature than was the case. Undoubtedly, the doctrine had great signiﬁcance for overall US policy toward

34 J. L’hommedieu Europe in the critical year of 1940. Moreover, despite the lack of active US–Baltic cooperation prior to 1940 the United States had after all recognized the Baltic countries as fully ﬂedged European nation-states. In this respect, it was only natural for President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s administration to include the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states among the territorial changes it refused to recognize, as it consistently reafﬁrmed its opposition to territorial aggrandizement in Europe.

An international trustee and the road from isolation By June 1940, Germany had occupied Czechoslovakia, Poland, Denmark, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, and, most shockingly, France. The developing situation in Europe compelled Roosevelt eventually to come to terms with the role that the United States had to play in order to preserve its own interests. Although many scholars have argued that Roosevelt was inherently an internationalist who played the role of an isolationist to appeal to domestic concerns, a more plausible argument is that at the outset of World War II, Roosevelt actually was an isolationist who only later accepted the necessity of an internationalist United States.3 Regardless of Roosevelt’s personal opinion, US domestic politics severely constrained the extent to which the United States could directly intervene in the European situation. Roosevelt was facing an unprecedented third term as President, with the maintenance of neutrality and isolationism as a key plank in the Democratic Party’s platform.4 To shift from this rigid paradigm would require all the acute political acumen Roosevelt possessed. Indeed, a gradual shift in US policy did emerge during the summer of 1940. While reafﬁrming US neutrality, Roosevelt set in motion a policy that would allow the United States to assume the role of an international trustee for occupied European states.5 Following the 9 April invasion of Denmark and Norway, the President issued Executive Order (EO) 8389, ‘regulating transactions in foreign exchange, transfers of credit, and the export of coin and currency’.6 Under this, the Treasury Department initiated a policy of freezing all ﬁnancial assets in the United States of occupied European countries. Thus, Roosevelt not only offered symbolic support to the occupied nations of Europe, but also guaranteed future practical assistance by assuring that the assets of such states would be returned once the aggressors were defeated. EO 8389 was continually amended to include the assets of each European state that fell under military occupation. On 10 July, prior to the reorganization of the Baltic governments, Roosevelt issued EO 8484: By virtue of the authority vested in me by section 5 (b) of the Act of October 6, 1917 (40 Stat. 411), as amended, and by virtue of all other authority vested in me, I, FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT, PRESIDENT

Roosevelt and the dictators 35 of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, do hereby amend Executive Order No. 8389 of April 10, 1940, as amended, so to extend all the provisions thereof to, and with respect to, property in which Latvia, Estonia, or Lithuania or any national thereof has at any time on or since July 10, 1940, had any interest of any nature whatsoever, direct or indirect.7 Prior to the inclusion of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, however, all the other states affected by EO 8484 had come under the military occupation of Nazi Germany. The Soviets condemned the freezing of Baltic assets by the United States, insisting that there was no legal basis for suspending the transfer of gold from the US Federal Reserve to the State Bank of the USSR.8 Welles’ rebuttal of the Soviet claim gives a very clear insight into how the United States viewed the Soviet actions in the Baltic states within the larger European situation in 1939–1940. Referring to the US decision to freeze assets of states under the occupation of aggressor nations, Welles stated that: The attempt to transfer the gold belonging to the Banks of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia was made at a time when it had become apparent that the governments and peoples of those countries were being deprived of freedom of action by foreign troops which had entered their territories by force or threats of force.9 Further considerations behind the decision to freeze Baltic assets included the need to protect US ﬁnancial interests in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania and the status of Baltic-owned shipping vessels in US-controlled ports. Although the quantity and overall value of US interests in the Baltic states were relatively insigniﬁcant, one important function of the State Department is to protect the interests of the US abroad. Wherever such assets were under threat of nationalization by a foreign government, ofﬁcials were forced to act to preserve such interests. It was of great importance, on the heels of a global war, to prevent potential enemy belligerent states from assuming ownership of ships. As a result of US initiatives, relations between the Soviet Union and the United States remained cool. Although the Roosevelt administration included in its options for future involvement in the European conﬂict the possibility of a military alliance with the Soviet Union, any such cooperation was not a foregone conclusion. Thus, the question of why the United States would risk alienating the Soviet Union on behalf of the Baltic states is not completely relevant. Even though Roosevelt’s papers and State Department reports suggest that the Soviet Union was seen as less of a threat than Nazi Germany, there was no distinction made in these documents and public speeches when applying the term ‘dictatorship’. Furthermore, in 1940, the Soviet Union was still viewed as a semi-ally of

36 J. L’hommedieu Nazi Germany as a result of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact and as a predatory European power, carrying out aggression against Finland. While there was a consensus on the question among all US policy makers, the two individuals mainly responsible for US European policy were State Department Assistant Chief of European Affairs, Loy Wesley Henderson and Roosevelt himself. Henderson assumed the role of formulating the ofﬁcial State Department policy toward the Soviet adventurism in the eastern Baltic. While addressing the Assistant Secretary of State Adolph A. Berle, Jr. and the Advisor on Political Relations, James Clement Dunn on 15 July, Henderson posited three main questions, in a much more expansive form, concerning the plight of the Baltic states following the recent elections: Is the government of the United States to apply certain standards of judgment and conduct to aggression by Germany and Japan which it will not apply to aggression by the Soviet Union? Does the government of the United States desire to take steps to restrain the export of funds in this country belonging to the states of Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania, as it has done recently in the case of the countries taken over by Germany? Are vessels of the Baltic states in American harbors to be permitted to depart freely or are they to be held up like the vessels of a number of countries which have been taken over by Germany?10 Generally, State Department ofﬁcials took the view that the same standards should be applied to the actions of the Soviet Union as to those of Germany. Despite the relative unimportance of the Baltic states to overall US policy, it was felt that tacit approval of the Soviet actions in those countries would only undermine the ability of the Roosevelt administration to claim the position as ‘International Trustee’ of occupied states. However, the ultimate decision concerning such an important issue rested not with the State Department but with the White House. Although Roosevelt rarely mentioned the Baltic issue in his personal papers or other documents, his rejection of forcible territorial expansion is very evident in his speeches throughout his entire political career. During his ﬁrst inaugural address on 4 March 1933, he announced: I would dedicate this nation to the policy of the good neighbor – the neighbor who resolutely respects himself and because he does so, respects the rights of others – the neighbor who respects his obligations and respects the sanctity of agreements in and with a world of neighbors.11 Although Roosevelt’s so-called Good Neighbor Policy traditionally refers to the manner in which the United States dealt with the American

Roosevelt and the dictators 37 republics, it also reﬂects the attitude that Roosevelt felt should be applied to the whole of the international community.12 In an attempt to convey this message to a larger world audience, one month later, on 12 April Roosevelt convened a session of the Pan-American Union in Washington, DC to expand upon his inauguration speech. ‘Each one of us’, Roosevelt reafﬁrmed, ‘must grow by an advancement of civilization and social wellbeing, and not by the acquisition of territory at the expense of any neighbor.’13 By formally stating that the United States would not intervene with the internal affairs of other sovereign states, in return, the United States expected other members of the international community to act in a similar manner. During the worsening European situation in the late 1930s, Roosevelt applied the same principles he sought to implement toward the American republics to the aggressor states in Europe. His ﬁrst strongly worded condemnation of European territorial aggrandizement occurred on 5 October 1937 in his now famous Quarantine the Aggressor speech in Chicago, where Roosevelt argued that: the present reign of terror and international lawlessness began through the unjustiﬁed interference in the internal affairs of other nations or the invasion of alien territories in violation of treaties and has now reached a stage where the very foundations of civilization are seriously threatened.14 The clearest reference to the Baltic states in respect to the overall situation in Europe is found in Roosevelt’s 14 April 1939 thinly veiled ultimatum to Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini. Roosevelt appealed to the two European aggressors not to attack or invade other sovereign European states. Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania are explicitly referred to in this document.15 Although the statement was primarily directed toward the Axis Powers, it clearly underscores Roosevelt’s position that territorial aggrandizement in the Baltic region was unacceptable to the US government. Equally signiﬁcant was Roosevelt’s reaction to the Soviet Union’s aggression toward Finland. Although the President refused to go to war with the Soviet Union over Finland, Roosevelt was very supportive of Finland in his public utterances. In addition to providing ﬁnancial support to Finland, Roosevelt took every opportunity to speak on behalf of an independent Finland and to chide the Soviet Union for its actions. On 1 December 1939, one day after the Soviet invasion of Finland, a statement from Roosevelt observed: To the great misfortune of the world, the present trend to force makes insecure the independent existence of small nations in every continent and jeopardizes the rights of mankind to self-government. The people and government of Finland have a long, honorable, and

38 J. L’hommedieu wholly peaceful record which has won for them the respect and warm regard of the people and government of the United States.16 As further Soviet aggression spread to Finland’s southern neighbors in July 1940, it became apparent that merely freezing the assets of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania did not adequately reﬂect the intended US position.

Soviet annexation and the reemergence of the Stimson Doctrine Immediately following the announcement of EO 8484, on 17 July 1940, US Secretary of State Cordell Hull presented John C. Wiley, the US Minister to Latvia, with instructions to depart the region should the situation in the Baltic states deteriorate. Such was the case when on 21 July the newly elected Estonian parliament convened, establishing an agenda including the Sovietization of Estonia, Anschluss with the USSR, and the nationalization of Estonian land, large industries, and banks.17 Similar agendas were agreed upon soon after in the Latvian and Lithuanian parliaments.18 On 23 July, the recently elected parliament of Estonia asked for formal accession into the Soviet Union. The annexation of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania into the USSR presented the United States with a dilemma that was not present with the German occupation of other European states; that is to say, the German government did not formally annex the nations under the protection of EO 8389 and its subsequent amendments. Of paramount importance to US State Department ofﬁcials were the issues of legality and enforcing international law in policy making. Furthermore, the United States, as a neutral power, ultimately pursued policies that offered consistency and continuity in similar circumstances. The situation that most closely resembled the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states was that of Japanese expansionist policy toward China in the late 1920s and early 1930s, seen as a threat to US interests. Secretary of State Henry L. Stimson duly declared in 1932 that the US government would not recognize any territorial or administrative changes the Japanese might impose upon China.19 This principle was reinforced by the March 1932 resolution of the League of Nations, which essentially followed the Stimson Doctrine verbatim, declaring Japan in noncompliance with the Pact of Paris.20 While the Stimson Doctrine proved to be unenforceable as the Sino-Japanese conﬂict escalated, its adoption by the League of Nations reinforced the international community’s principled rejection of territorial expansion. Moreover, the League’s strongly worded condemnation of the Japanese actions fully reﬂected the ofﬁcial position and values of the US government. The Stimson Doctrine would ultimately become the ofﬁcial position of the US government on the Soviet annexation of the Baltic countries. For the time being, the United States was in no position to become actively

Roosevelt and the dictators 39 involved in the European conﬂict, let alone on behalf of the small states of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. Not to have condemned the Soviet annexation, however, would ultimately have undermined the overall policy pursued by the US as well as its moral authority in the international community. Thus on 23 July 1940, Welles released the following statement: During these past few days the devious process whereunder [sic] the political independence and territorial integrity of the three small Baltic Republics – Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania – were to be deliberately annihilated by one of their more powerful neighbors, have been rapidly drawing to their conclusion. From the day when the peoples of these Republics ﬁrst gained their independent and democratic form of government the people of the United States have watched their admirable progress in selfgovernment with deep and sympathetic interest. The policy of this Government is universally known. The people of the United States are opposed to predatory activities no matter whether they are carried on by the use of force or by the threat of force. They are likewise opposed to any form of intervention on the part of one State, however powerful, in the domestic concerns of any other sovereign state, however weak. These principles constitute the very foundations upon which the existing relationship between the 21 sovereign republics of the New World rests. The United States will continue to stand by these principles, be of the conviction of the American people that unless the doctrine in which these principles are inherent once again governs the relations between nations, the rule of reason, of justice and of law – in other words, the basis of modern civilization itself – cannot be preserved.21 Despite the allusive nature of the document’s language, it clearly infers the application of the Stimson Doctrine to the Baltic issue.22 Available documents are ambivalent about who is responsible for its ﬁnal wording. Although the statement was released by Welles and he later served as the administration’s spokesman on this issue, there were, like other government documents, no signatures attached. Welles certainly had a ﬁrm grasp of the overall intention of US policy. When discussing the statement with the media, Welles expanded upon the rationale behind his government’s policy, asserting that the USSR maneuvered to give ‘an odor of legality to acts of aggression for purposes of the record’.23 Although deﬁnitive proof is absent from the ofﬁcial government records, an interview with Henderson, conducted in 1973, offers insight into the collaborative manner in which the declaration was drafted. On the morning of 23 July, Welles instructed Henderson to prepare a press statement condemning the Soviet action and offer sympathy to the Baltic

40 J. L’hommedieu

Figure 1 Original copy of the Welles Declaration (Courtesy of the US National Archives24).

people.25 Upon reviewing Henderson’s statement, both Welles and Roosevelt were in agreement that the original language needed strengthening. Prior to its issuance, Welles redrafted the statement including several sentences recommended by Roosevelt.26 The statement not only was consistent with Roosevelt’s overall attitude towards forcible territorial expansion, but was ultimately drafted at the highest level of the administration.

Roosevelt and the dictators 41

Figure 2 Telegram from Acting Secretary of State Sumner E. Welles to the American Embassy in Moscow (Courtesy of the US National Archives27).

Interest groups and domestic politics What role, if any, did Baltic leaders, both in the United States and in the three countries themselves, play in the decision-making process whereby the United States refused to ofﬁcially recognize the Soviet annexation? There was a strong movement within the United States in June 1940,

42 J. L’hommedieu particularly among Lithuanian-Americans, to condemn the actions of the Soviet Union. Furthermore, Baltic diplomatic missions, particularly the Latvian Minister Alfreds Bilmanis, were very outspoken in diplomatic circles and in the US media with regard to Soviet aggression. Despite these efforts, the impact of Balts on the formulation of US policy was minimal at best. Throughout 1940, the United States meticulously formulated its diplomacy toward the situation in Europe to best reﬂect the values of the government and the American people, while applying such a strategy evenhandedly over the continent.

Conclusion Ultimately, neither the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states, nor the subsequent US response stood in the way of the US–Soviet wartime cooperation against the Axis Powers once the Americans joined the European conﬂict. Despite signing the Atlantic Charter in August 1941, Roosevelt chose, in the interests of preserving the fragile military alliance to bring about the defeat of the Axis Powers, not to address political decisions concerning the peace settlement until the conclusion of the war. Unfortunately, Roosevelt underestimated Stalin’s ideological thrust, his postwar security concerns, and his desire for the territorial restoration of Russia’s pre-World War I borders. At Teheran, during a private meeting between the two leaders, Roosevelt tacitly conceded the Baltic states to Stalin by making clear that he would not lead the United States into war over the fate of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, while suggesting that Stalin should hold further elections to determine the future of the three countries.28 These events and the ultimate fate of the Baltic states cannot in themselves, however, detract from the sincerity and good intentions of the US government when the policy of non-recognition of the Soviet annexation was ﬁrst formulated. Circumstances in 1940 were vastly different from those in 1943 or 1945, when Roosevelt ultimately reconciled himself to the fact that only through cooperating with the USSR could the total defeat of fascism in Europe be accomplished. The Welles Declaration was therefore no anomaly; nor was it exclusively intended for a domestic audience. Admittedly, like the Stimson Doctrine the harsh condemnation was largely symbolic in nature. However, in conjunction with EO 8484 and the actions of the Department of Treasury, the Welles Declaration offered both immediate and long-term beneﬁts to the Baltic states. The most immediate consequence of the non-recognition policy was the ability of the Baltic diplomatic representatives abroad to fund and continue their operations despite the Soviet occupation. In addition, the ownership of ships ﬂying the Baltic ﬂags was not turned over to the Soviet Union. Moreover, with the ending of World War II and the onset of the Cold War the longer-term implications of US policy became more evident.

Roosevelt and the dictators 43 Though the status of ships was important during wartime, in the postwar settlement, the status of individuals became even more contentious. In these circumstances, the US policy of non-recognition allowed Washington to take a very ﬁrm position on the status of Baltic displaced persons in refugee camps after the war. While the USSR demanded that Baltic citizens be placed in Soviet custody for repatriation, the United States simply refused to consider the Baltic refugees as Soviet citizens. As a result, a lively and strong Baltic diaspora subsequently developed in North America, Western Europe, and Australia, thus preserving the ability to promote the cause of the Baltic states during the years of the Cold War, and indeed beyond.

Notes 1 The initial protocol of 23 August 1939 included Estonia, Latvia, and Finland in the Soviet sphere, whereas Lithuania was incorporated in the German sphere. The subsequent modiﬁcation of 28 September, however, shifted Lithuania to the Soviet sphere. 2 Initially, the Soviet government presented ultimatums in September and October 1939 for the construction of military bases in the Baltic territories in a very systematic method. Estonia was ﬁrst presented with such an ultimatum on 24 September 1939, followed by Latvia and Lithuania on 5 and 10 October. During the German occupation of Paris and following a Soviet accusation that Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania were conspiring against the Soviet Union, Stalin forced the Baltic states to allow Soviet troops on Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian soil in June 1940. Finally, following staged elections in July 1940, the Soviet Union formally annexed Lithuania on 3 August 1940, Latvia on 5 August 1940, and Estonia on 6 August 1940. 3 Charles Beard, American Foreign Policy in the Making, 1932–1940, Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1968. 4 In opposition to the Democratic Party, the Republican Party candidate, Wendell Wilkie, broke with the strongly isolationist tendency of the Republican Party and came out strongly against Nazi Germany, while supporting an expansion of military conscription. 5 “U.S. Freezes Funds of Baltic States,” New York Times, 16 July 1940, p. 8. 6 U.S. Ofﬁce of the Federal Register, Code, 1939–1943. 7 Ibid. 8 “The Chargé in the Soviet Union (Thurston) to the Secretary of State,” 20 July 1940, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1940, Volume 1. Washington, DC: Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1959, pp. 395–397. 9 “The Acting Secretary of State to the Chargé in the Soviet Union (Thurston),” 9 August 1940, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1940, Volume 1. Washington, DC: Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1959, p. 414. 10 “Memorandum by the Assistant Chief of the Division of European Affairs (Henderson),” 15 July 1940, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1940, Volume 1. Washington, DC: Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1959, pp. 389–392. 11 Franklin D. Roosevelt Inaugural Address, 4 March 1933. The Avalon Project www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/presiden/inaug/froos1.htm (accessed 1 March 2006). 12 The Good Neighbor Policy did not alter the ultimate goal of US foreign policy in the Western hemisphere. The United States still sought strong hegemony

44 J. L’hommedieu

13 14 15 16 17

18 19 20 21 22 23 24

25

26 27 28

over the American republics, but instead of threatening the use of military intervention in the region, the Roosevelt administration built strong symbiotic relationships with Latin American authoritarian regimes. Roosevelt Address to the Pan-American conference, 12 April 1933, FRUS 1933: The American Republics, Volume IV, p. 315. Franklin D. Roosevelt, “Quarantine the Aggressor,” 5 October 1937 http://usa.usembassy.de/etexts/speeches/rhetoric/fdrquara.htm (accessed 1 March 2006). Franklin D. Roosevelt, “Message to Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini,” 14 April 1939 www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/index.php?pid=15741&st=Lithuania&st1= (accessed 1 March 2006). Franklin D. Roosevelt, “Statement on the Conﬂict Between Russia and Finland,” 1 December 1939. The American Presidency Project http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/index.php?pid=15844&st=Finland&st1=. “Memorandum, The Chargé in Estonia (Leonard) to the Secretary of State,” 21 July 1940, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1940, Volume 1. Washington, DC: Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1959, p. 399. The term Anschluss is the term repeatedly used by both the Chargé in Estonia, Leonard, and the Minister in Latvia, Wiley, to describe the actions of the Soviet Union in the Baltic states. Anschluss, or political union, is generally used to describe the 1938 inclusion of Austria into “Greater Germany” by the Nazi regime. It is worth noting that in 1938 Wiley served as US Consul General in Vienna. Ibid. “Stimson Doctrine” www.state.gov/r/pa/ho/time/id/16326.htm. “Memorandum of Conversation,” 12 March 1932, FRUS, Japan 1931–1941, Volume II, p. 356. “Press Release Issued by the Department of State on 23 July 1940,” Foreign Relations of the United States, 1940, Volume 1. Washington, DC: Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1959, p. 401. Robert Vitas, The United States and Lithuania: The Stimson Doctrine of Nonrecognition, New York: Praeger, 1990, p. 35. “U.S. Lashes Soviet for Baltic Seizure,” New York Times, 24 July 1940, p. 11. “Statement concerning Baltic States” issued to Press 23 July 1940 by Sumner Welles, Acting Secretary of State, attached to telegram from Welles to American Embassy, Moscow, 23 July 1940; File 760N.00/228; Political Relations between Baltic States; Decimal File, 1940–1944; Central File of the Department of State, Record Group 59; National Archives at College Park, MD. “‘Oral History Interview 1’ with Henderson by Dr. Richard D. McKinzie of the Harry S. Truman Library” 14 June 1973, p. 15. Box 27, Folder: “Oral Histories Truman Library 1973–1975 Final Draft January 1976”, Loy W. Henderson Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. Ibid., 16. “Statement concerning Baltic States”, op. cit. “Proceedings of the Conference,” 2 December 1943, FRUS, The Conferences at Cairo and Tehran 1943, pp. 594–595.

5

The politics of a principle US non-recognition policy before, during and after the recovery of Baltic independence1 Paul A. Goble

Fifteen years after Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania emerged from Soviet occupation to reclaim their de facto independence, many people in both the Baltic countries and the West remain divided into two opposing camps about the meaning, importance and limits of US non-recognition policy in this process. Some writers, especially in the Baltic states, argue that US nonrecognition policy played a relatively unimportant role in this process, that it was frequently and even hypocritically modiﬁed over time to suit the needs of Washington’s relationship with Moscow, and in any case it ceased to play any actual role in 1991 when the Baltic states regained their legitimate status as full members of the international system. Other writers, especially in the USA itself, suggest that US nonrecognition policy played a major role in the survival and reemergence of Baltic statehood, that it represented one of the most principled positions ever taken by a major power with respect to the actions of another over such a lengthy period, and that it continues to be signiﬁcant in promoting the integration of the Baltic countries into the West and challenging those in Moscow who refuse to accept the 1991 settlement. While these two views might appear to be mutually exclusive, they are in fact simply different perspectives on the nature of the relationship between politics and principle and between the way things are done and the principles that are invoked to explain them. Consequently, the much disputed history of US non-recognition policy is important not only for its own sake but as an indication of the nature of this linkage and the ways in which principles inevitably constrain politics and are modiﬁed by them.

A policy of principle applied The balance among three inﬂuences on action – a commitment to principle, a response to domestic pressures within the USA and an assessment of the immediate foreign policy requirements at any particular time – changed dramatically over the 50 years that followed the end of the

46 P.A. Goble Second World War, not only because of changes in each but also because of changes in the relative importance of each in the eyes of successive American administrations. In order to track these changes, it is critical to keep in mind that while American non-recognition policy was from the very beginning a moral stance the fundamentals of which did not alter over this entire period, the policy had three important consequences for American actions. And it is the changes in the application of these actions that inevitably had consequences for and were interpreted by both supporters and opponents of non-recognition policy as saying something about the principles themselves. First and most important, the USA from 1940 to 1991 continued to receive diplomats appointed by the Baltic governments in ofﬁce before 1940 and after 1980 to Baltic diplomats appointed by senior members of the Baltic diplomatic services. To that end, the US Department of State maintained a Baltic desk, whose occupant was seldom busy as a result and had other tasks as well, typically responsibilities for another country or for regional security affairs. Indeed, for many years, his only ‘Baltic’ tasks were to prepare national day messages to send to the Baltic representations in the USA,2 to meet with Baltic Americans concerned about developments in their homelands, and to review the budgets prepared by the Baltic missions. This last task was perhaps the most important, and it is certainly the least understood, with many people believing that either the US government or the diasporas funded the Baltic missions in the USA. In fact, that never happened. Instead, the US government approved each year the distribution of non-sovereign (i.e. non-gold) deposits from Baltic government accounts that had been frozen by the USA at the time of the Soviet occupation. Thus – and this was a matter of principle – the Baltic missions in the USA were always paid for by their own governments rather than by anyone else. The only minor exception to this policy involved Lithuania’s mission after 1981. In that year, the Lithuanians ran out of non-sovereign funds, and for two years both the Estonian and Latvian missions budgeted funds for transfer to the Lithuanian one. Subsequently, Estonia dropped out of this arrangement, and Latvia carried the Lithuanian mission, the funds involved having been repaid only a few years ago. In addition, the State Department kept the ﬂags of the Baltic countries ﬂying in the Main State lobby alongside those of all the other countries the USA recognised. There was one notable, sad, but instructive exception: just before Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev made his ﬁrst visit to Washington, the three Baltic ﬂags mysteriously disappeared from this lineup; however, they were quickly put back before Gorbachev’s arrival, after Baltic Americans noticed their absence and complained to the media! Moreover, the Department required that all US maps featuring the

The politics of a principle 47 Baltic states carry a note that the USA did not recognise the forcible incorporation of the Baltic states into the Soviet Union. Furthermore, the State Department prohibited any senior US government ofﬁcial – deﬁned for this purpose as someone whose position had required conﬁrmation by the Senate – from travelling to these three countries under Soviet occupation. More junior ofﬁcials could and did visit the three – indeed, consular ofﬁcers from what was then called Leningrad regularly travelled to the Baltic countries and even played a key role in reporting about the Singing Revolution there – and ofﬁcials who had been conﬁrmed by the Senate in the past but who were not serving in positions requiring conﬁrmation at the time of their travels were also permitted to visit the Baltic countries as happened on occasion in the case of the Chautauqua meetings in Jurmala in the late 1980s. But it is worth stressing that no American ambassador to Moscow ever travelled to Estonia, Latvia or Lithuania during the time of the occupation. Finally, and again without change across the entire period, the US government formally and publicly declared on numerous occasions that Washington did not recognise the governments the Soviet authorities had installed or the actions they took as legitimate. This meant that the USA viewed and continues to view all Soviet actions in these countries as being without any legal standing unless and until they have been conﬁrmed by governments freely chosen by the citizenries of the Baltic countries. During the occupation period, that position had relatively few consequences besides enraging Moscow and its supporters; but, as will be shown below, it continues to play a critical role in the post-occupation life of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, something that many in these three countries do not always acknowledge. In recalling what American non-recognition policy entailed, however, it is equally important to remember what it did not entail, because many of the most severe critics of the policy and the role it played impute to it things which it never contained. Again, there are three main points to keep in mind: First, the USA did not recognise any Baltic governments in exile, despite the formation of several such entities and occasional pressure from Baltic Americans to do so. Indeed, there was a virtual ban on any contacts with these governments by American officials in general and the State Department’s Baltic Desk in particular. The reasons for this are clear: on the one hand, there was a continuing concern that involvement with such governments might undermine non-recognition policy by suggesting that these exile groups rather than the diplomats represented the clearest expression of legal continuity of statehood. And on the other hand, there were fears that such organisations might draw the USA into a potentially murky and even dangerous world of émigré political infighting. Second, the USA did not commit itself to any speciﬁc action to

48 P.A. Goble implement the principle of non-recognition. And while it is not true as some have suggested that the USA did nothing to try to roll back Soviet power in the Baltics in the wake of the Second World War, that position gave Washington enormous latitude in deciding how to approach the government of the occupying power, the Soviet Union. When relations between Moscow and Washington were good, the USA could and did lower the volume of its expression of the non-recognition policy, but never, not even once and despite the urging of many realpolitik types in various administrations, did it ever modify the wording of its policy. When relations between Moscow and Washington soured at various points during the Cold War, Washington could and did raise the decibel level in expressing its non-recognition policy. In so doing, however, it seldom took new actions that it might have to retreat from once the crisis was passed. For example, the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian services of US government-funded radios like Voice of America and Radio Free Europe continued to broadcast in both periods, although the messages carried on them not surprisingly varied depending on the overall international situation. Because the USA as a major power had a variety of interests in dealing with the leadership of the Soviet Union, it took a variety of actions over 50 years which many Baltic Americans then and some Baltic analysts now inevitably point to as being a betrayal of non-recognition policy. The incident that they point to most often concerns the American government’s decision to return Simas Kudirka, a Lithuanian sailor who sought asylum on an American ship in 1970. In fact, despite the obvious human tragedy it involved, the return of Kudirka did not touch the fundamental principle of non-recognition. Kudirka was a Soviet sailor on a Soviet ship, and because of this the USA was committed to his return. The fact that he was a Lithuanian gained him enormous and entirely understandable sympathy, but in no way could it affect the outcome. And it is important to note that this almost certainly would have been true regardless of whether ties between Moscow and Washington were warmer or cooler. In addition, many Baltic Americans then and some Baltic analysts now have argued that the US decision to include the three Baltic countries in the Leningrad consular district and to expand the number of visits to that region by US diplomats also undermined non-recognition policy. Yet, such criticism misses the point as well: not only are there a number of cases around the world where an American consular district covers more than one country, but the American diplomats visiting Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania were under strict guidance not to have any contacts with Sovietinstalled governments that might in any way compromise non-recognition policy. Third, the USA never assumed that non-recognition policy was something eternal. At the outset, Washington took the position it did on the

The politics of a principle 49 basis of the clear argument that the people of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania had not had the opportunity to freely express their views about occupation. American non-recognition policy implied that were they ever able to do so, and were they to decide to approve the absorption of their countries by the Soviet Union, then it would follow, at least by implication, that Washington’s policy would have to be abandoned. Moreover, when the policy was articulated, it was assumed in Washington that the Second World War would end with a peace conference, that decisions about the future territorial arrangements of the world would be made at that time, and that with such an accord, the USA would almost certainly have dropped its commitment to this principle and this policy. But this never happened, despite the suggestions of many Baltic Americans and their supporters. It is also important to note that three of the charges made most often against the USA in general and the State Department in particular with regard to its support for non-recognition policy are simply not true. First of all, and despite some clumsy language at Potsdam, the USA never committed itself to recognising Soviet occupation of the Baltic countries as legitimate at some future peace conference. Indeed, Washington assumed that such a conference would restore Baltic independence, not ratify its end. Second and despite regular Soviet claims, the USA did not recognise the Soviet occupation of the Baltic countries as legitimate when it signed the Helsinki Final Act in 1975. Indeed – and this is something Americans can be proud of and that citizens of the Baltic states should take note of – American negotiators throughout the talks that produced the Helsinki accord and US President Gerald R. Ford when he signed it made regular and formal public statements that from the point of view of the USA, nothing in the document affected the American commitment to its longstanding non-recognition policy. Third, the State Department as an institution did not actively oppose the policy or seek to undercut it in the name of improved relations with Moscow – despite widely reported but not authoritative comments by some Baltic desk ofﬁcers and others to Baltic Americans and especially to Baltic diplomatic representatives that suggested some US diplomats believed that Balts and Baltic Americans should give up what these ofﬁcials described as a ‘quixotic’ policy. This stands in marked contrast to the behaviour of other governments, including even the Vatican under Pope John XXIII, which in principle had non-recognition policies as well. While the Holy See under earlier and especially later popes was one of the strongest supporters of Baltic legal continuity, Pope John XXIII pursued an Ostpolitik which included, inter alia, statements by members of the Vatican foreign ofﬁce that Baltic diplomats would continue to receive invitations to ofﬁcial functions but that they should not assume that the Holy See expected them to accept. Other countries that had nonrecognition policies in place had other such subterfuges in place as well.

50 P.A. Goble

A policy put to the test – and maintained As long as the Soviet government maintained tight control over Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, US non-recognition policy could be maintained with little difﬁculty: it was after all a moral stance rather than a requirement for speciﬁc pro-active measures. Yet once the Baltic peoples began to organise to recover their independence de facto, the situation changed, and Washington was put in a more difﬁcult position, one that required it to make choices and to balance interests in ways that the authors and supporters of that policy had not anticipated. The ﬁrst such challenge concerned the Chautauqua meeting in Jurmala, Latvia, in 1988. The Chautauqua movement had long organised meetings across the Iron Curtain, and when it became possible for the New York-based group to hold one in Latvia, it not only wanted to do so but wanted to include senior American ofﬁcials. Many Latvian Americans and not incidentally the Latvian legation in the USA backed that idea, viewing such a step as a major contribution to their burgeoning national movement. But many other Latvian Americans, even more Estonian and Lithuanian Americans, and some in the US government were concerned that this would undercut non-recognition policy and would be exploited by the Soviet Union. A compromise was reached. For the ﬁrst time, senior American ofﬁcials – again deﬁned as those who had received Senate conﬁrmation – were allowed to travel to the Baltic states ofﬁcially – but only those who were currently serving in jobs that did not require Senate conﬁrmation. Thus, at least one US ambassador attended, but only because he was at the time of the meeting serving not in that position but in a staff job at the National Security Agency. A few were not happy with the arrangement, but in the end it was a compromise that did not sacriﬁce anyone’s principles and that was not effectively exploited by the Soviet government. A far more serious test came in March 1990 when the Lithuanian people succeeded in electing a government that voted for a resolution restoring their independence. That event captured the hearts and minds of Baltic Americans and many others in the USA, both in the government and outside, but it complicated the life of American ofﬁcials at the State Department and the White House who were just then seeking to pursue ever closer ties with the Soviet government of Mikhail Gorbachev. The initial complication came on the very day that the Lithuanian action was reported in the American press. On 12 March, the Washington Times carried on page one a large spread of articles about Lithuania’s action, but the same issue of the paper carried a news story on an inside page of the ﬁrst section that made it more difﬁcult for the US government to act. This article reported that senior Soviet military commanders had told Philip Peterson, an analyst in the Ofﬁce of the Secretary of Defense, that their defence plans for the year 2000 were based on the assumption

The politics of a principle 51 that Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania would NOT be part of the USSR at that time. History, of course, has proved the Soviet commanders right. At the time, however, the report created serious problems not only for its author – who was ultimately pushed out of his job even though he had the approval of his superiors to conduct and release the report – but also for those interested in reaching out to the Lithuanians. Many at the upper reaches of the government feared that if Washington did make any moves in that direction, it would be read in Moscow as a gesture of support for Gorbachev’s opponents in the military, something no one wanted to happen. Consequently, they urged that the USA move very cautiously in response to the actions in Vilnius, which was what happened. At the same time, however, many within the Congress and the wider population demanded US action, arguing that non-recognition policy required that Washington do something now that Lithuania had declared that it had recovered its independence. Indeed, such demands escalated into a journalistic ﬁrestorm and led to two signiﬁcant policy shifts, neither of which explicitly compromised US non-recognition policy, but both of which had consequences far larger than their authors intended. The ﬁrst of these changes was the enunciation by a State Department spokesman of the ‘principle’ that Washington cannot recognise a government that does not control its own territory and borders and to which an American diplomat could not go without obtaining a visa from a third country. Given that Vilnius did not control its territory or borders and that no American diplomat could be dispatched there without a Soviet visa, that would seem to settle the issue. However, the State Department position created two serious problems. In the ﬁrst instance, it lead to a variety of posturings by members of Congress, who announced that they would travel to the Polish–Lithuanian border and seek to cross it without a Soviet visa. The most famous of these declarations – which were not acted on – came from Senator Joseph Damato of New York, who was famously quoted by the New York Post as saying that he would ‘kick Gorbachev in the Baltics’ – a headline that the senator had framed and put up in his Washington ofﬁce. Such declarations complicated relations between Washington and Moscow without having any serious consequences for US–Baltic relations or other ties. More seriously, however, this principle represented a major departure in US policy: Washington had frequently recognised governments in the past that did not meet the new test. This pronouncement designed for Lithuania alone thus had the effect of changing US practice from the recognition of governments to the recognition of countries, with borders and so on, something that made border agreements more not less important and frequently gave other countries a lever on American policies, as has been the case with the border issues in Estonia and Latvia over the past decade.

52 P.A. Goble The second policy shift arising from the Lithuanian declaration had far more serious consequences, although again these were not recognised by very many US ofﬁcials at the time. Within weeks of the Lithuanian move – and it was followed by slightly less dramatic steps in Estonia and Latvia – US government spokesmen, ﬁrst at the White House and then at the State Department, began changing the language in which they discussed the Baltic states. Instead of referring to non-recognition policy, these spokesmen began to talk about the right of all peoples to self-determination. At least some senior ofﬁcials believed that these terms were equivalent in the Baltic case and that such a rhetorical shift was therefore not signiﬁcant. In fact, it entailed three far-reaching consequences. First, many Balts felt that whereas non-recognition policy was a carefully crafted legal doctrine, a commitment to self-determination was a philosophical notion without speciﬁc content. In their eyes, this shift also reduced the status of the Baltic countries to those of the 12 Soviet republics, something nonrecognition policy had been careful never to do. As such, the State Department position led to widespread feelings of betrayal in the Baltic countries. The new approach also led to a radicalisation of opinion in the Ukraine and some other Soviet republics, whose national leaders naturally decided that Washington had signalled its readiness to support their aspirations in exactly the same way that it had supported those of the Baltic states. This was not Washington’s intention, but it was a direct result of American policy, as various leaders of the Ukrainian national movement Rukh have since testiﬁed in their public statements. Finally – and this is probably the most important consequence of all – the American action convinced hardliners in Moscow that their longstanding interpretation of US non-recognition policy was correct – i.e. that this policy which explicitly involved only the three Baltic republics was in fact directed at the destruction of the Soviet Union as a whole – and that consequently there was no possibility for any compromise on the future of the Baltic states lest that lead to the unravelling of the entire USSR. Initially, this latter view was held only among the most conservative members of the Foreign Ministry, the CPSU apparatus and the military; by the end of 1990, however, it came to be shared by Mikhail Gorbachev and his staff. This helps to explain why Moscow introduced troops into the three Baltic countries at the end of that year and then ordered the killings in Vilnius and Riga in January 1991.3 The US government was divided over how to respond to the January 1991 events in the Baltic states. In the wake of the killings in Vilnius, Secretary of State James A. Baker III issued a powerful denunciation of the Soviet action while on a plane over Turkey, a statement that journalists travelling with him insisted on and that he released even though he was not able to clear it with the President who was over that weekend at Camp David. Four hours later, upon Bush’s return to Washington, the President

The politics of a principle 53 and his ofﬁcials offered a much softer response, one that sparked outrage among many Americans and anger in all three Baltic countries. Americans and members of Congress were horriﬁed by what they saw as an entirely inadequate response by their government to Soviet brutality. Baltic Americans, who number more than a million and who have always had a major inﬂuence in this area, were outraged and marched on the White House after passing the Soviet embassy. But the White House and to a lesser extent the State Department, necessarily worried about doing anything that would undermine the coalition in Iraq for Desert Storm, remained deeply cautious, drawing ruinous and bitter criticism in the press and on Capitol Hill. That caution continued throughout the spring and summer of 1991, with Washington reluctant to criticise Soviet actions at the Lithuanian border crossing points and in Tallinn. Yet this public caution did not give the full picture, as Bush Administration ofﬁcials were at pains to point out. In April, Washington dispatched its ﬁrst high-level delegation to all three Baltic countries. Led by Deputy Assistant Secretary Curtis Kamen, this group not only offered advice and encouragement to the three Baltic governments – and it met with the senior people in all three – but met in Moscow with Soviet ofﬁcials to talk about how to resolve Baltic demands for the recovery of independence. Throughout the spring, the US consulate in Leningrad increased the number of ofﬁcers travelling to Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, not only to improve reporting on what was going on, but also as a show of support. Indeed, several of the governments have honoured those ofﬁcers precisely because of the support their presence alone provided. At the State Department, a Baltic Working Group was created to monitor developments in the three countries, to help develop policies, and perhaps most importantly to share information among various government agencies and with the American people about what was going on in the Baltic states. Its members frequently spoke with the press and with American ethnic organisations, and they helped push the cause of Baltic independence forward even though the overarching government policy in this area was not moving that quickly. Washington also moved towards accepting the idea that the three Baltic diplomatic representations were becoming the de facto representations of the governments in their homelands. By early 1991, both the Latvian and the Lithuanian missions were effectively acting in that way, although neither they nor the USA could explicitly acknowledge the fact. And by March, the Estonian mission, led by the irreplaceable Ernst Jaakson, had agreed to assume a similar role following an apology issued by Arnold Rüütel and an extensive explanation in the Estonian media by Jaakson as to why he had agreed. As a result, on 29 March 1991 the 86-year-old Estonian diplomat was able to host his ﬁrst-ever diplomatic reception for the visiting Rüütel. Some Estonian Americans objected, but most were delighted by the event.

54 P.A. Goble Then came the August coup in Moscow, which opened the way to the recovery of Baltic independence de facto. Many governments moved to recognise the three, with Iceland taking the lead and many NATO countries following – including some which had not had a non-recognition policy up to that time. The USA, however, did not move, even after ten, 20, even 30 other countries had done so. Indeed, it became a joke in Washington and among some Baltic ofﬁcials that the USA was apparently so committed to non-recognition policy that it was not prepared to end it even when the Baltic countries became independent! But when the US government ﬁnally did move on the morning of 2 September, its leaders could legitimately make two points which tend to be forgotten by its critics at home and in the Baltic countries. On the one hand, when Washington acted it put by virtue of its position and power in the world a period or even an exclamation mark on the recovery of Baltic independence. This was something that all Baltic leaders acknowledged at the time, even though they would have been happier if the USA had moved earlier. Also, while most Baltic newspapers listed the USA as having become the thirty-seventh country to recognise Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania as independent states, that listing was in fact incorrect. The USA had recognised these states as independent without interruption since 1922, and consequently what Washington did in September was only to agree to the renewed exchange of diplomats – a position few other countries could claim and one that represented the triumph of the politics of principle, a politics that was never as pretty as many hoped, but which was maintained despite the objections of others.

Non-recognition policy continues Many in the USA and unfortunately even more in the Baltic countries concluded that the renewed exchange of diplomats between Washington and the Baltic capitals marked the end of non-recognition policy. Such a conclusion is not only misguided, but dangerous for both the Baltic countries and the USA. First, American non-recognition policy represents an international seal on the principle of the legal continuity of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, a position that the Russian government has not yet been willing to recognise, but which sets the three apart from the other portions of the former Soviet empire and has helped these three countries reintegrate into the West far more quickly than would otherwise have been the case. As one senior American ofﬁcial told the Baltic leaders, ‘thank God for nonrecognition policy because it puts you in a different category’ than the Soviet republics. Second, American non-recognition policy also provides the Baltic countries with the legal basis they need to maintain their positions on

The politics of a principle 55 citizenship and on the restitution of property. Had non-recognition policy not been articulated and were it not maintained in this sense, the three would have had a much more difﬁcult time in pursuing these policies. Indeed, they would have been under enormous pressure not to restore their statehood but rather to create it anew as have the former Soviet republics. Third, American non-recognition policy, a policy of principle despite all its shortcomings, underscores the capacity of a country to adopt such an approach when expediency would suggest a different course. It thus is a matter of far more than historical interest in Washington as well; any suggestion to the contrary betrays not only American principles but some of the most important principles in international life more generally. That was something the authors of non-recognition policy understood from the very beginning that Washington must not do, because such a step whatever beneﬁts it might bring in the immediate term would cost the USA, the Baltic countries and the international community inﬁnitely more over the longer term. And because that is so, like the Baltic states themselves, this policy must not be forgotten or allowed to die. The survival of both is very much a matter of principle and of policy for all of us.

Notes 1 Portions of this essay originally appeared as ‘The Ends of Non-Recognition Policy’, Crossroads, 1995. Used by permission of the Lithuanian American community. 2 A close study of these documents over the half century they were issued would reveal them to be an extraordinarily sensitive barometer of American government attitudes towards the Baltic states. 3 For a recent reappraisal of the latter events, see Ainius Lasas, ‘Bloody Sunday: What Did Gorbachev Know About the January 1991 Events in Vilnius and Riga?’ Journal of Baltic Studies, 38, 2, 2007.

6

Soviet foreign policy during the Cold War The Baltic factor Konstantin K. Khudoley

In the early stages of Soviet power, bringing Bolshevism to the Baltic states was seen as a necessary step towards transforming the civil war in Russia into a ‘world revolution’. Ultimately, however, Soviet Russia had to enter into negotiations with the governments of independent Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, whose difﬁcult domestic and foreign situations made them keen to bargain for peace. The treaties that Russia signed with the three countries in 1920 recognised their right to independence and rejected all future claims upon their territories. Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania for their part became the ﬁrst governments to recognise Soviet Russia de jure. The Soviet Union and the three Baltic states enjoyed peaceful but hardly stable relations during the two decades that followed. After some delay, Baltic governments disarmed the troops of the Russian White Army, which were still located on their territories, as well as prohibiting political activity by Russian immigrants. The three countries, however, remained very cautious when developing relations with the Soviet Union, as the latter did little to hide its true intentions towards them. The Communist International was administered from Soviet territory and incorporated Baltic communist parties intent on the violent seizure of power and establishment of Soviet rule in their home countries. This was not simply empty rhetoric, as can be seen from the attempted 1924 Communist coup in Estonia instigated by the leaders of the Communist International. The ofﬁcials of the Soviet Communist Party were also involved, as were ofﬁcials of the Soviet government. The coup failed because, contrary to Comintern beliefs, the Estonian population, including the working class, did not support the thesis of ‘World Revolution’. In the 1920s and 1930s, ofﬁcials in Moscow believed that the defeat of communism in the Baltic states was only temporary, and that Soviet rule would be established in due course. The Comintern doctrine was, moreover, that all countries under Soviet rule should join the Soviet Union. Soviet foreign policy during 1939–1940 cannot therefore be seen as signalling a marked deviation from ofﬁcial doctrine, but merely the evolution of an existing long-term strategy. In the 1920s and 1930s, the Soviet Union was merely waiting for the ‘right time’, and this ﬁnally came in 1939.

The Baltic factor 57 When, in autumn 1939, the Soviet Union forced the Baltic governments to sign the Treaties on Bases that allowed Soviet troops onto their territories, Stalin announced that he did not intend to establish Soviet rule in the Baltic states. In reality, he was simply biding his time. By June 1940, the time was ripe. The great powers, shocked by Germany’s defeat of France, had their attention focused on Western Europe. No one was able to oppose Soviet policy towards the Baltic states. It is likely that Stalin wanted to occupy the Baltic states and Bessarabia (including Bucovina, which was not mentioned in the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact) as quickly as possible. It is assumed that he was afraid of the rising power of Germany (nobody in Moscow expected France to fall so quickly) and the possibility that Germany might renegotiate the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact in its favour. On 15–16 June 1940, the Soviet Union demanded that more of its troops be allowed onto the territories of the Baltic states and that the governments of the three countries be changed. This demand was met, and power over domestic affairs duly transferred to Soviet emissaries Andrey Zhdanov (Estonia), Andrey Vyshinskiy (Latvia) and Vladimir Dekanozov (Lithuania). New elections were quickly organised according to the ‘one candidate-one seat’ system. Opposition forces could not participate. The elections were neither free nor fair, and thus the decisions of the newly elected parliaments to join the Soviet Union cannot be considered legitimate. These decisions were not approved by the upper chambers of the parliaments of the Baltic states, even though such approval was required by the countries’ constitutions. These decisions were nothing more than evidence of Soviet dictatorship. In seeking to justify the occupation of the Baltic states, Soviet and many Russian historians have utilised the argument of military advisability, which was presented during Second World War by Stalin to British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Yet the occupation of the Baltic states made the Soviet Union neither weaker nor stronger in the face of possible German aggression. The occupation bolstered anti-Soviet public opinion in the USA and United Kingdom – potential Soviet allies in case of German aggression – as well as engendering resistance in the Baltic states themselves. Nationalisation of industry and services, imposition of communist dogmas in cultural life, declining living standards and, most especially, mass deportations all created a backdrop for mass hatred of the Soviet Union, and led some circles to express sympathy for Germany and the Nazi regime. The subsequent guerrilla movement in the Baltic republics after the Second World War created domestic problems for the Soviet Union, using up already limited military and economic resources during the 1940s and 1950s. From the moment the Baltic states ‘joined’ the Soviet Union, the new regime did its best to present all events in the region as domestic issues of the USSR. Stalin understood that occupation of the three independent

58 K.K. Khudoley states, respected members of the League of Nations, would create difﬁculties for Soviet foreign policy. However, he calculated that these difﬁculties would be temporary. After all, just a few years after the end of the Russian civil war, Great Britain, France and then the USA had recognised Soviet rule over Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan. On 5 June 1941, Soviet Deputy People’s Commissioner for Foreign Affairs Solomon Lozovskiy made the following demands of Western countries in a communication with US Ambassador Steinhardt: recognition of the Baltic states as an integral part of the Soviet Union; return to the Soviet Union of the gold deposits made by the three countries; return to the Soviet Union of all Baltic ships located in foreign ports and closure of embassies, consulates and other missions of the Baltic states on the territories of Western countries. In return, the Soviet Union promised that it would satisfy property claims and other demands from Western countries related to the change in international status of the Baltic states. In fact, the Soviet Union had already launched such a policy in the summer of 1940.1 Top Soviet ofﬁcials probably thought that concessions on economic issues would accelerate formal recognition of the occupation. The ofﬁcials cared little about the fate of the former citizens of the Baltic states. For as long as the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact remained effective, Germany lent support to these Soviet foreign policy goals. In July 1940, the German Foreign Ministry rejected notes from the Baltic embassies afﬁrming that Soviet rule in the three countries had been imposed by force.2 Germany later closed the Baltic embassies, though their employees as well as refugees from the three states were allowed to stay in Germany or to leave for third countries. In 1940, the Soviet Union and Germany signed several agreements regarding the claims of German citizens over property and possessions in the Baltic states. Those remaining ethnic Germans who had been citizens of the Baltic states were also permitted to leave the Soviet Union for Germany. In January 1941, the Soviet Union and Germany agreed on changes to the Lithuanian border. Germany also handed over the gold deposits of the Baltic states, as well as ships under Baltic ﬂags that were harboured in German ports. Meanwhile, the Vichy Regime in France established diplomatic relations with the USSR, and also supported Soviet policy towards the Baltic states. Paris closed the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian embassies. The French police authorities later gave the buildings over to the Soviet authorities. While French authorities participated in the action, it was initiated by the German embassy in Paris, and the property transfer was not formally legalised.3 Another country that gave full recognition to Soviet claims over the Baltic was Sweden, which Lozovskiy cited in his June 1941 discussions with Steinhardt.4 The USA, however, emphatically rejected Lozovskiy’s demands, thus ensuring that the Baltic question became a major source of controversy in

The Baltic factor 59 the US–Soviet relationship ahead of the German aggression against the USSR in June 1941. British ofﬁcials were initially unclear about their position on the Baltic question, but later came out in support of US policy. British–Soviet relations worsened in 1940, though London tried to avoid harsh statements.5 On the whole, the Soviet Union was rather successful in gaining de facto or de jure recognition by third countries of its occupation of the Baltic states, with the US position appearing as a rare exception. Such recognition was only made possible thanks to cooperation with Germany, which appeared invincible following the defeat of France. The situation, however, changed dramatically after Germany attacked the Soviet Union. Following the German invasion and the initial failures of the Soviet Army, the creation of an anti-Hitler coalition and opening of a second front in Europe became the main goals of Soviet foreign policy. With this in mind, the Soviets did their best to avoid creating any dispute among possible partners in the coalition. For all this, the Soviet Union was reluctant to forfeit the territorial gains made during 1939–1941, or the prospect of further enlargement of its borders once the war ended. These goals inﬂuenced Soviet foreign policy even in the most difﬁcult days of the war. In autumn 1941, when the situation at the front had become critical, the Soviet Union announced that it did not want any new territorial gains, and that it was not seeking to introduce Soviet rule in other countries. London considered this statement positively. That winter, when the Battle for Moscow seemed to herald a turning point in the war, the Soviet Union again toughened its position on the issue. British Foreign Minister Anthony Eden arrived in Moscow in order to discuss a treaty of alliance between the Soviet Union and Great Britain. Once again, Stalin and Molotov raised the question of recognition of the 22 June 1941 Soviet borders. Here, they reiterated their willingness to make concessions concerning the Soviet–Polish border, but stated that no concessions should be expected concerning the Baltic states. Moreover, Stalin suggested that, following the war, Soviet Lithuania should include part of Eastern Prussia, including Tilsit and nearby areas. Soviet arguments changed considerably during the negotiations. Stalin and Molotov initially claimed that the peoples of the Baltic states had made a free choice in favour of incorporation into the Soviet Union in 1940, and that the will of the Baltic peoples had been taken into account in the new Soviet constitution. When this argument failed to convince, Stalin and Molotov argued that the great losses suffered by the Soviet people should be considered when the postwar international situation was discussed. Eden for his part claimed that the diplomats of the Baltic states were considered private persons in Britain, that ‘there are no Baltic states’ for the British government at the moment and that it would be ‘a pleasure for him if the Soviet troops had entered the Baltic states the next day’. However, Eden was acting according to the statements of the British

60 K.K. Khudoley government, not the Soviet constitution.6 He therefore refused to recognise the incorporation of the Baltic states into the Soviet Union de jure. Consequently, the ‘Baltic question’, together with controversies over the Soviet–Finnish border remained the main obstacle to successful negotiations. Nevertheless, securing a second front in Europe together with supplies of arms from the West remained vital issues for Soviet foreign policy. In May 1942, Stalin agreed to sign the Soviet–British treaty, which made no mention of the borders of the Soviet Union. In his directive to Molotov (who opposed the treaty), Stalin stressed that border issues (including the ‘Baltic question’) would ultimately be solved by force, and were therefore immaterial to this agreement.7 The Soviets nevertheless considered the negotiations with Eden a serious failure. When the relevant diplomatic papers were published in the Soviet Union after the war, almost every mention of the Baltic states was erased from the text. The ‘Baltic question’ had a rather different impact on relations between the Soviet Union and the USA. After the German attack on the Soviet Union, the USA signiﬁcantly improved its relations with the USSR. Many of the controversial issues of 1939–1940 were forgotten, but not the ‘Baltic question’. The Soviets did their best to avoid raising this question in negotiations with the USA, whose position was seen as being tougher than that of the United Kingdom. The Soviets were also aware that US supplies of arms to the Soviet Union were larger than those from the United Kingdom. The issue, however, was ﬁnally broached on the last day of the December 1943 Teheran conference, when President Roosevelt insisted that ‘the opinion of the peoples of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania had to be considered in the future’. Roosevelt was aware of the need to attract votes from Baltic immigrants at the 1944 presidential election. At the same time, he expressed his conﬁdence that the peoples of the Baltic states would vote for incorporation into the Soviet Union and that the USA would not go to war against the Soviet Union, when Soviet troops entered the Baltic states. Stalin replied that there would ‘be many opportunities for the peoples of the Baltic republics to express their will’, but insisted ‘that does not mean that plebiscites in the republics could take place under any form of international control’. Roosevelt said that he was satisﬁed with the answer.8 French Resistance Leader General Charles De Gaulle, acutely aware of the need to retain international recognition for his own movement, did not seek to complicate relations with the Soviet Union, where he enjoyed diplomatic support. At that time, De Gaulle’s advisers believed that the Soviet Union would give up its policy of ‘world revolution’ after the end of the Second World War and join a global system of security if it managed to incorporate the territory of the former Russian Empire. The French Provisional Government thus reacted positively to numerous notes from the Soviet Embassy in August 1944 and ordered military censorship to

The Baltic factor 61 eliminate any mention of Soviet borders (previously the French press had recognised the 1939 rather than the 1941 borders of the USSR).9 In autumn 1944, when Soviet diplomats returned to Paris, the former embassy buildings of the Baltic states were handed over to the Soviet Embassy. For all this, France never ofﬁcially recognised the occupation of the Baltic states. On 28 April 1944, De Gaulle told Soviet Ambassador Alexander Bogomolov that he did not know the demarcation of the postwar border of the Soviet Union and doubted whether Soviet ofﬁcials knew themselves; France, he said, had been at war with Germany from 1940–1941, and the Soviet Union could therefore not ofﬁcially inform the French government of border changes.10 The French–Soviet Treaty of 1944, however, made no mention of the borders of the Soviet Union. Nor did France ever hand over to the Soviet Union the gold deposits from the Baltic states located on its territory. During negotiations on the United Nations Charter, the Soviet Union sought to strengthen its presence at the UN by pressing for all of the then 16 Soviet Republics to be admitted to the UN. Had this goal been achieved, the USSR would not only have obtained a quarter of the seats in the UN General Assembly, but would also have achieved recognition of the occupation of the Baltic states by all UN members. In connection with this claim, the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, in its ﬁrst meeting since the beginning of the war with Germany, adopted amendments to the Soviet Constitution, according to which every Soviet Republic could have its own ministries of foreign affairs and defence and could even sign agreements with foreign countries. This remained nothing more than a declaration, and the so-called independent foreign and defence policies of the Soviet Republics were in fact determined by Moscow. Western countries rejected Soviet demands, partly because they did not wish to recognise ofﬁcially the occupation of the Baltic states. Eventually, only the Soviet Union itself plus Ukraine and Belorussia entered the UN. The leaders of the USA, Great Britain and the Soviet Union established the post-Second World War world order at their meetings in Yalta and Potsdam. The world was divided into spheres of inﬂuence, through oral and thus indeﬁnite agreements. The agreements made at Yalta and Potsdam carried in them the germ of the future Cold War between the former partners in the anti-Hitler coalition. The Western powers agreed that the Baltic states should be part of the Soviet sphere of inﬂuence. However, this did not mean recognition of the occupation. Moreover, with some exceptions, refugees from the Baltic states in Western and neutral countries were not extradited to the Soviet Union. Yalta and Potsdam strengthened the Soviet Union’s position in the Baltic states in that they prompted the closure of Baltic diplomatic missions in practically all countries. Switzerland, as well as some other countries handed over the property of diplomatic missions of the Baltic states

62 K.K. Khudoley to the Soviet Union. However, legalisation of the border changes made during and after the Second World War remained a key priority of Soviet foreign policy during the coming decades of the Cold War. The creation of the Yalta–Potsdam system and the subsequent emergence of a bi-polar world order decreased the importance of the ‘Baltic factor’ in Soviet foreign policy. The Baltic states had been viewed as a crucial strategic gain in 1940, but by the end of the decade they paled in signiﬁcance compared to the Communist bloc as a whole. Moreover, by the late 1940s, Soviet de facto possession of the Baltic states could be construed as resting not on the Soviet–German Pact, but on the Yalta and Potsdam agreements. Stalin was not concerned that the recognition was not de jure. It was believed that the Soviet Union had sufﬁcient power to maintain political gains made during the Second World War, especially after nuclear weapons had been acquired. In the ﬁrst years after the end of the Second World War Soviet leaders were not certain that they would be able to retain control over territories occupied by the Red Army during the anti-Hitler campaign. Creating a separate communist state in the Soviet zone in Austria along the lines of East Germany was not seriously considered in Moscow. Even three years after the German Democratic Republic was created, Stalin’s book Economic Issues of Socialism in the USSR still approached Germany as a united capitalist country.11 Such inconsistency was also evident from time to time when it came to the Baltic states. After Stalin’s death, some elements of the Soviet leadership even discussed the possibility of granting independence to the Baltic states, provided that they retained socialism as their political regime. However, as the Soviet elite consolidated following Stalin’s death, those plans were forgotten. In the mid-1950s, the Soviet elite believed that granting even a small measure of self-determination to the Baltic states would lead to crisis and the possible collapse of the whole totalitarian system. This belief was based on the evidence of popular uprisings in Eastern Germany in 1953 and in Hungary in 1956 that could be suppressed only with the help of Soviet troops. As far as the ‘Baltic question’ was concerned, Soviet foreign policy aims did not change from the Second World War to the Cold War era. The Soviet Union wanted de jure recognition of the occupation. However, the method changed from direct to indirect diplomatic pressure. The Baltic issue became part of an overall Soviet desire to legalise all changes in Europe, including the creation of the German Democratic Republic. Any mention of the ‘Baltic question’ by diplomats of other countries was perceived as interference in the domestic affairs of the USSR. The international environment in the post-Second World War period favoured the preservation of Soviet rule in the Baltic states. No communist-controlled country – including those opposed to the Soviet Communist Party, such as China, Yugoslavia or Albania – ever questioned Soviet control over Baltic territory. For these countries, any mention of

The Baltic factor 63 the ‘Baltic question’ risked weakening their own power on the world stage, since the local communist parties had also come to power in an anti-democratic way with assistance from the Red Army. In addition, a group of Third World countries that gained independence during the 1940s to the 1960s, including, for example, India, viewed the Soviet Union as an ally against colonialism. Such considerations only began to change after the Soviet intervention in Afghanistan. Third World countries that maintained strategic partnerships with the USA but were ruled by authoritarian regimes were also reluctant to raise the ‘Baltic question’. The Baltic states were frequently visited by party and governmental delegations from communist countries. These included Prime Ministers of India and relatives of the Shah of Iran, as well as other leaders of Asian and African countries. Communists from the Baltic states frequently participated in, and even led, Soviet governmental delegations to Third World countries. The democratic countries of Western Europe also developed a more pragmatic attitude towards the ‘Baltic question’. Only the USA and Canada remained steadfast. In the 1950s, the ‘Baltic question’ became crucial to the anticommunist campaign by the USA. Hearings on the Sovietisation of the Baltic states took place in Congress, which placed Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians on its list of captive nations under the 1959 Act. Captive Nations Weeks were to take place annually in order to support the peoples of the Baltic states. In the early 1980s, President Ronald Reagan promoted an annual Baltic Peoples Solidarity Week. The USA approach to this issue never changed through the Cold War, and Moscow seemingly never anticipated that it would. Soviet propaganda campaigns organised to coincide with Captive Nations Weeks therefore did not address the ‘Baltic question’ speciﬁcally. The Soviet leaders seemed intent on avoiding any discussions on the destiny of the Baltic states, whether in the domestic or international arenas. The Soviet Foreign Ministry limited itself to making formal protests about the diplomatic ofﬁces of the Baltic states that remained open in Washington, DC and elsewhere. Similarly, there was no severe reaction by the Soviet leadership to Congress resolutions or open letters by Congress members concerning the Baltic states. Among the reasons for such a mild reaction one should stress the inability of communist leaders to understand the role of legislative power in Western democracies. Soviet leaders responded much more sharply – typically via an article in Pravda – if any executive ofﬁcial or presidential candidate participated in meetings with Baltic diasporas. The ‘Baltic question’ therefore played a relatively minor role in Soviet–US relations during the Cold War, compared to issues such as disarmament and regional conﬂicts. At the same time, it served as a permanent reminder to the Soviet elite of the fragility of the Soviet Empire. Canada’s perception of the ‘Baltic question’ during the Cold War was close to that of the USA. In the early 1960s, the Soviet Embassy in Canada

64 K.K. Khudoley refused to receive the ofﬁcial lists of diplomatic ofﬁces distributed by the Canadian Foreign Ministry, which included ofﬁces of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. At the UN General Assembly session devoted to decolonisation (held at the behest of the Soviet Union), the Canadian Prime Minister suggested in his address that Nikita Khrushchev should decolonise the Baltic states, Hungary and other countries of Central and Eastern Europe. The activities of Baltic, Ukrainian and other emigrant organisations in Canada frequently became reasons for protests by the Soviet Foreign Ministry, the Soviet Embassy perceiving even small actions by those organisations as challenges. However, the Soviet protest did not play an important role in Soviet relations with Canada, which from the early 1960s became an important trade partner, especially in food. Neither Canada nor the USA, however, proved willing to extend de jure or de facto recognition to Soviet rule over the Baltic states. In Western Europe, Soviet diplomacy was more effective. Public opinion in Western Europe supported the Baltic cause and wished that the three states had remained independent, a view which was bolstered by the ﬁrm line emanating from the USA. However, Western European governments were interested in developing trade with the USSR, especially during the 1970s and 1980s, while communists and other left wingers sympathetic to the Soviet cause were especially strong in countries such as Italy and France. The Baltic question frequently appeared on the agenda of national parliaments, as well as the Council of Europe and the European Parliament. European democracies also backed the US stance at multi-lateral negotiations with the Soviet Union. However, Soviet diplomats were able to extract signiﬁcant concessions from their West European counterparts during bi-lateral negotiations. The Soviet Union had been preparing to discuss the ‘Baltic question’ at the Paris Peace Conference in 1946–1947. In the event, however, the absence of discussions on a peace treaty with Germany or the Western border of the Soviet Union meant that the issue never came onto the agenda. The split among the former partners in the anti-Hitler coalition was too wide. However, representatives of the Soviet governments of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania did form part of the Soviet delegation to Paris. The ‘Baltic question’ became important again during the negotiations on the Final Act of the Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe in 1975. The Soviets paid much attention to the security pillar of this agreement, which placed particular emphasis on the inviolability of borders in Europe. Close attention was also given to the economic pillar which targeted development of trade relations in Europe. The Soviet Union considered humanitarian issues to be a domestic affair and agreed to discuss them only when there was no other way to persuade the West to make concessions on the security and economic pillars. Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev and Foreign Minister Andrey Gromyko recognised that

The Baltic factor 65 the Soviet Union would not be able to fully implement promises made in Helsinki.12 The two men viewed the Helsinki conference largely as a propaganda exercise, but also as a possible mechanism for gaining formal recognition of the Western borders of the USSR. Achieving such recognition was seen as lying within the Soviet Union’s grasp once West Germany had signed political treaties with the USSR and Poland and Czechoslovakia and both Germanys had become full members of the UN. In the course of the negotiations leading to the Final Act, the Soviets supported the maintenance of territorial integrity of all European states in their present borders, the prevention of territorial claims and the description of any attempt to encroach upon the inviolability of borders as an act of aggression.13 However, this suggestion was opposed by West Germany (the 1970 treaty with the Soviet Union allowed non-violent border changes), by Spain (Gibraltar), Ireland (Northern Ireland) and Canada. Canadian diplomats underlined that acceptance of the Soviet proposal would mean de jure recognition of the Soviet Union’s incorporation of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Other NATO members supported the Canadian stand. As a result, the Final Act stated that borders in Europe should be stable, but that the borders could be changed by peaceful means. Several weeks prior to the day when the Final Act was signed US President Gerald Ford conﬁrmed that this provision did not entail US recognition of the Baltic states’ incorporation into the Soviet Union. Leaders of other NATO member states made similar statements. The Soviet press did not react either to these statements, or to the 1975 US Congress resolution on the Baltic states. Soviet propaganda presented the Final Act as a great triumph for Soviet diplomacy and for Brezhnev personally. The Soviet leader certainly sought to derive the maximum beneﬁt from the Helsinki meeting both internationally and domestically, and did his utmost to persuade the most conservative members of the Politburo that the Final Act had to be signed. The importance of the Act in this regard could be discerned from the fact that the new Soviet Constitution introduced in 1977 included a special chapter on foreign affairs, which outlined principles closely modelled on the provisions of the Final Act. It seems that Brezhnev and other Soviet leaders became victims of their own propaganda campaign: they mistakenly believed that the postSecond World War borders in Europe had become inviolable in Helsinki and that occupation of some territories by the Soviet Union during the Second World War, including the Baltic states, had been recognised by the West. The Soviet Union also achieved some notable successes in its bi-lateral relations with the European democracies during the postwar period, skilfully exploiting foreign and domestic policy differences among the states concerned. In the early postwar years, Moscow brought pressure to bear on those European states where Baltic diplomatic ofﬁces continued to operate. With Soviet prestige still high in the aftermath of victory,

66 K.K. Khudoley securing closure of these ofﬁces proved to be a relatively straightforward task. Even neutral Switzerland handed over the real estate previously belonging to the Baltic states’ diplomatic ofﬁces, albeit without formally recognising the incorporation of the Baltic states into the Soviet Union de jure. By the 1960s, the Soviet government had gone a long way towards resolving various property disputes that had arisen in connection with the Baltic question. In 1967, for instance, the Soviet Union and the Netherlands ﬁnally settled all future ﬁnancial and property disputes concerning property of the Baltic states and their citizens, by means of an agreement which deﬁned Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania as ‘Soviet Socialist Republics’.14 Between 1978 and 1979, the Soviet Embassy in Paris destroyed the building which had housed the Estonian embassy and replaced it with a new Soviet trade service building. Permission for this was granted by the then Mayor of Paris Jacques Chirac. The French Foreign Ministry did not intervene. The Soviets also sought to develop the external affairs of the Baltic ‘Soviet Socialist Republics’, mainly by arranging visits by foreign parliamentary delegations to the Baltic states. The Soviet Foreign Ministry did its best to persuade Western diplomats in Moscow to establish relations with the Soviet Baltic governments, even claiming on occasion that certain issues were the direct responsibility of the Foreign Ministries of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania and could therefore only be discussed with them. Contacts between Western Ambassadors and Baltic foreign ministry ofﬁcials were, however, few and far between. The memoirs of a number of Soviet diplomats also suggest that the Foreign Ministry sought to place Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians in North European countries. Efforts were also made to exploit contacts in local governments, NGOs, and sporting, cultural and scientiﬁc organisations in order to achieve recognition of the sovietisation of the Baltic states. Such contacts, however, remained rather restricted in number, out of a fear that undue interaction with Western colleagues might spark protest movements in the Baltic states. In the 1950s, only delegations of foreign communist parties were allowed to visit Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Contacts were widened somewhat in the 1960s and 1970s, culminating in the 1980 Olympic events that took place in Tallinn. Gent, Kiel, Venice and other Western European cities were also twinned with Estonian towns in the 1970s, with frequent visits by delegations from the partners concerned. In sum, one can say that although the Soviet Union failed to achieve de jure recognition of the occupation of the Baltic states, it did make signiﬁcant progress towards attaining de facto recognition, particularly from Western European countries. This success, however, was short-lived, as the USA and the West won the ‘economic war’ of the superpower blocs and the political system of the Soviet Union entered a period of deep crisis. When Mikhail Gorbachev became Communist Party of Soviet Union (CPSU) General Secretary in March 1985, he declared a ‘new political

The Baltic factor 67 thinking’. The Soviet Union would abandon the arms race and conﬂicts in the Third World, and would seek to deconstruct the Yalta–Potsdam system and shift international relations from a bi-polar to a multi-polar system. The domestic political agenda was less clear cut. Gorbachev ﬁrst prioritised the intensiﬁcation of economic development and Glasnost’ (transparency); later he announced the start of Perestroika (reconstruction) and democratisation. Glasnost’ and Perestroika faced resistance from conservative circles within the Communist Party and government apparatus. In response, Gorbachev attempted to utilise grassroots movements in Moscow, Leningrad and the Baltic states to further his own interests. Although Gorbachev courted the Baltic Popular Fronts,15 he believed until the very end that he would be able to preserve a united Soviet Union, including the Baltic states. According to the memoirs of Vorotnikov, a former member of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist Party, in August 1987 Gorbachev expressed concern about the rise of nationalism in the Baltic states and the allegedly provocative efforts of Western countries to support this.16 Yet the ‘Baltic question’ ultimately did most to expose the inconsistencies in Gorbachev’s policies. Deconstruction of the Yalta–Potsdam system was not possible without the independence of the Baltic states; Gorbachev, however, simply tried to gloss over this uncomfortable fact and treat the ‘Baltic question’ as a domestic affair of the USSR. In the West, the 1987 Soviet–US agreement on medium-range missiles and Gorbachev’s 1988 address to the UN General Assembly brought about a shift in policy. Afraid that a rapid collapse of the Soviet system might lead to the proliferation of nuclear weapons, US presidents Ronald Reagan and George Bush Senior emphasised the maintenance of a uniﬁed Soviet Union. It was not until the 1989 summit in Malta that the issue of independence for the Baltic states was raised in discussions with Gorbachev. The independence movement in the Baltic states attacked the Molotov– Ribbentrop Pact and its secret protocols rather than the Yalta–Potsdam international system. This tactic helped to win over public opinion both within the Soviet Union and abroad, while Gorbachev’s continued insistence that there were no secret protocols in the Soviet archives merely undermined his credibility. In 1989, for the ﬁrst time in Soviet history, elections to the Supreme Soviet were conducted on a multi-candidate basis. Proponents of reform and independence won the elections in all three Baltic states. With the help of their democratic allies from Russia and other Soviet Republics, they managed to create a commission for the political and legal evaluation of the events of 1939, which reported within months. The Commission’s resolution represented one of the ﬁrst instances of internal criticism towards Soviet foreign policy.17 It can be argued that pressure from overseas did not affect the conclusions of the commission. Had outside pressure been effective, Gorbachev would have been the ﬁrst to react, but in the event it was he who delayed

68 K.K. Khudoley the ﬁnal conclusions of the commission’s resolution. After considerable debate, the USSR Supreme Soviet concluded that the Soviet–German agreement became invalid once Germany attacked the Soviet Union in 1941. The secret protocols to the agreements were deemed to have been invalid from the outset.18 This set the tone for events to come. According to Alexander Yakovlev, who chaired the commission, ‘I understood that the conclusions had become a signiﬁcant step for the Baltic states on their way to independence.’19 Representatives of the Baltic states in the Supreme Soviet made several failed attempts to contact the missions of Western countries in Moscow. A former representative of Lithuania Sigitas Kudarauskas claimed that: more than once I was invited to private meetings at home. The ambassadors and senators arrived from France and wanted to hear our aims directly. It was explained that Lithuania was not content with economic sovereignty and aspired to full independence. At ﬁrst this aspiration raised wonder and almost always a question: ‘Isn’t it harmful to Gorbachev?’20 It was not only France, but also other Western countries that adopted this stance towards Baltic independence. The West did not accelerate, but rather hampered the efforts of the Baltic states in this regard. In early 1990, elections to the Supreme Soviets of the Baltic states again brought victory for the proponents of reform. Lithuania declared immediate independence; though Estonia and Latvia were more careful in their formulations, they too made it clear that this was their eventual goal. Western countries, including the USA, did not establish diplomatic relations with Lithuania, on the pretext that the Lithuanian Supreme Soviet did not yet control the whole territory of the country. Of course, the real reason was a desire not to weaken the position of Gorbachev, who was under increasing pressure from hardliners with the CPSU and the Committee of State Security (KGB) following the ‘velvet revolutions’ in Central Europe. The Baltic states, however, did gain an important ally once Boris Yeltsin was elected Chair of the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Republic (in June 1991 he became President of Russia). In the course of 1990–1991, Russia and the Baltic states established close relations and coordinated their activities in many ﬁelds. Russia recognised the illegality of Soviet actions towards the Baltic states in 1940, and condemned the Molotov– Ribbentrop Pact.21 The reformist governments that were now in power in the Baltic states quickly increased their contacts outside the USSR, placing the emphasis on political rather than economic ties. The leaders of the Soviet Union condemned these efforts, yet their protests were conﬁned to critical articles in the Soviet press. Since 1977 the Soviet Constitution had granted Soviet republics wide authority in the ﬁeld of foreign contacts, and it was

The Baltic factor 69 very difﬁcult to legally limit the number of such contacts once the decline of Party control allowed them actually to occur. In the ﬁnal analysis, however, Western governments showed themselves willing to defer to objections from the Soviet Foreign Ministry, which insisted that the foreign ministries of individual Soviet Republics should not be allowed to participate in conferences and negotiations at state level. In autumn 1990, most politicians and experts were certain that the Soviet Union would soon collapse and that the Baltic states would gain independence ahead of the other republics. Public opinion in Western countries was also coming round to the idea of Baltic independence, with the Nordic countries most ﬁrmly in favour. In autumn 1990, the Nordic countries suggested that the Baltic states should be invited as observers to the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE). The meeting in November 1990 in Paris would be the ﬁrst to be held at the level of heads of state and government for 15 years. The drafting of a Charter for the New Europe and the signing of the Treaty on Conventional Arms in Europe meant that the CSCE meeting became a pivotal event in the end of the Cold War. Within the USSR, however, the political balance was shifting in favour of the conservative wing of the Communist Party and the KGB. The latter managed to secure the withdrawal of reformist ﬁgures from the government and to provoke a worsening of relations between Gorbachev and Russia and the Baltic states. The men who were now nominated to key posts in the Soviet government would later become architects of the attempted August 1991 coup against Gorbachev. In the more immediate term, however, these conservative forces sought to instigate a crackdown in the Baltic states. With Gorbachev’s international prestige at a high following his receipt of the Nobel Peace Prize, and the West already preoccupied with disarmament talks, German re-unification and the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, Soviet conservatives calculated that they could act with impunity. The events which followed the attempted coups in Vilnius and Riga during January 1991 would quickly disabuse them of this notion. As the Russian Federation threw its support firmly behind the Baltic states, Boris Yeltsin travelled to Tallinn for negotiations with representatives of the three governments. Yeltsin’s call for Russian citizens drafted into the Soviet Army not to participate in the suppression of Baltic democracy became a further important factor in persuading the orthodox communists to hold back. Western countries also condemned the bloodshed, with the US Congress and parliaments of many European countries adopting corresponding resolutions. According to Mart Laar, Boris Yeltsin’s visit to Tallinn and the negative reaction from abroad halted the move towards a more violent scenario.22 From a conservative point of view, the attacks on Vilnius and Riga backfired spectacularly – the bloodshed in Vilnius changed Gorbachev’s entire approach to the Baltic

70 K.K. Khudoley question, and ultimately served as a catalyst to the final collapse of Soviet power. The weakened position of the Soviet Union in international affairs was laid bare in February 1991, when the Alting (Parliament) of Iceland announced the establishment of diplomatic relations with Lithuania. Had any country taken such a step just a few years prior to this, the Soviet Union would immediately have broken off diplomatic relations. In this instance, however, the Soviet Foreign Ministry simply recalled its Ambassador for ‘consultations’ and sent a note to the Embassy of Iceland stating that the: establishment of diplomatic relations with Lithuania as an independent country has no object, for Lithuania remains a part of the Soviet Union. Any attempt to ignore such a fundamental fact is an attempt to interfere in the domestic issues of the Soviet Union.23 Clearly, a sea change in international affairs had taken place. For all this, the USA and the larger European powers were not prepared to follow Iceland’s lead and take a step that might prejudice the territorial integrity of the USSR. Further progress towards the restoration of Baltic independence was therefore contingent upon developments within the Soviet Union itself. When conservative forces launched their desperate last throw in August 1991, the parliaments of Estonia and Latvia declared immediate and unconditional independence and called upon longer-established states to renew the diplomatic links that had existed prior to 1940. Russia, however, had a pivotal part to play in securing widespread international recognition of independence: Yeltsin’s decree of 24 August 1991 ordering the Foreign Ministry of the Russian Federation to establish diplomatic relations with the Baltic states prompted many Western governments to follow suit.24 In discussions with Gorbachev’s plenipotentiary Alexander Yakovlev, US President George Bush now urged the Soviet government to recognise Baltic independence.25 This recognition was ﬁnally granted on 6 September 1991, when the State Council of the Soviet Union called for the independent Baltic states to be admitted to the UN and the CSCE.26 The collapse of the Soviet Union and the Communist Bloc marked the formal end of the Cold War and the start of Russia’s transition towards democracy and a market economy. Yet, 15 years later, it would appear that this transition is still in its early stages, and might yet go into reverse. At the end of the Cold War, the ‘Baltic question’, i.e. the establishment of friendly relations between Russia and the three Baltic states, became extremely important. Unfortunately, neither side was prepared to maintain the positive dynamics achieved during 1990–1991, and Cold War stereotypes have since exerted a signiﬁcant inﬂuence over Russian–Baltic relations. It will take time and signiﬁcant efforts by both parties to overcome these stereotypes and construct a new type of relationship.

The Baltic factor 71

Notes 1 Dokumenty vneshney politiki (Foreign Policy Documents). 1940 – June 22, 1941. Vol. 2 (Part 1), Moscow: Mezhdunarondye Otnosheniya (International Relations Publishing House), 1998, p. 723. 2 SSSR – Germaniya (USSR – Germany), 1939–1941, Vol. 2, Vilnius: Mokslavs, 1989, p. 72. 3 Accord France–Lettionie, France–Lituanie et France–Estonie relatifs au statut des immeubles des legations, www.senat.fr/rap/102–163; Un imbroglio juridico-diplomatique: L’affaire de legation de Estonie, http://franceestonie.org/article.php3; Thierry Wolton. La France sous inﬂuence. Paris–Moscow: 30 ans de relations secrets, Paris: Bernard Grasset, 1997, p. 264. 4 Dokumenty vneshney politiki (Foreign Policy Documents). 1940 – June 22, 1941. Vol. 2 (Part 1), Moscow: Mezhdunarondye Otnosheniya (International Relations Publishing House), 1998, p. 723. Another neutral, Switzerland, did not ofﬁcially recognise the occupation, but from 1 January 1941, stopped inviting diplomats from the Baltic states to ofﬁcial meetings. 5 C. Keeble. Britain and the Soviet Union, 1917–1989, London: The Macmillan Press ZTD, 1990. 6 Dokumenty vneshney politiki (Foreign Policy Documents). June 22, 1941 to January 1, 1942. Moscow: Mezhdunarondye Otnosheniya (International Relations Publishing House), 2000, pp. 518–530. 7 Britaniya i Rossiya (Britain and Russia). Moscow: Institute of World History, Russian Academy of Science, 1997, p. 209. 8 Tegeranskaya vstrecha rukovoditeley treh soyuznyh derzhav – SSSR, SShA i Velikobritanii (The Tehran Summit of three allied nations: the USSR, the US and Great Britain). November 28–December 1, 1943, Moscow: Politizdat (Political Literature Publishing House). 1984, pp. 151–152. 9 Wolton, op. cit. pp. 47–49. 10 Sovetsko-frantsuzskie otnosheniya vo vremya velikoy otechestvennoy voyny (Soviet– French Relations During Great Patriotic War). 1941–1945. Vol. 2, Moscow: Politizdat (Political Literature Publishing House), 1983, pp. 44–45. 11 Josef Stalin. Ekonomicheskie problemy sotsializma v SSSR (Economic Issues of Socialism in the USSR), Moscow: Politizdat (Political Literature Publishing House), 1952, p. 35. 12 A. Dobrynin. ‘Sugubo doveritel’no dlya vseh’ (Very Conﬁdential to Everybody), Mezhdunarodnaya zhizn, 9–10, 2002, p. 134. 13 Documents on British Policy Overseas, Series III, Vol. II. The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1972–1975, London: The Stationery Ofﬁce, 1997, pp. 106–107. 14 Soglashenie mezhdu pravitel’stvom Soyuza Sovetskih Sotsialisticheskih Respublik i pravitel’stvom korolevstva Niderlandov ob uregulirovanii vzaimnyh ﬁnansovyh i imushchestvennyh pretenziy (Agreement between the Government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic and the Royal Government of the Netherlands on Solution of Mutual Financial and Property Claims), October 20, 1967; Sbornik deystvuyushchih dogovorov, soglasheniy I konventsiy, zaklyuchennyh SSSR s inostrannymi gosudarsvami (Collection of Treaties, Agreements and Conventions between the USSR and Foreign Countries in Force), XXV, Moscow: Mezhdunarondye Otnosheniya (International Relations Publishing House), 1972. When the Soviet Union and the Netherlands established diplomatic relations in 1942, there was no mention of the ‘Baltic question’. The Court of Rotterdam subsequently ruled that any property disputes (the immediate case in hand concerned the inheritance of a Lithuanian citizen who died in 1943) should be solved according to Soviet rather than Lithuanian law. W.A. Timmermans. The

72 K.K. Khudoley

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Baltic States, the Soviet Union and the Netherlands: A Historical Note. Netherlands International Law Review, p. 291. Narodnyy Kongress. Sbornik dokumentov kongressa narodnogo fronta Estonii (People’s Congress: Proceedings of the Congress of the Popular Front of Estonia), October 1–2. Tallinn: Eesti Raamat, 1989, p. 9. V.I. Vorotnikov. A bylo eto tak . . . Iz dnevnika chlena Politburo CK KPSS (That’s how it was . . . Soviet Union Communist Party Central Committee Member’s Diary). Moscow: Kniga Biznes publishing house, 2003, p. 182. Nikita Khrushchev’s critique of Joseph Stalin was more targeted at domestic affairs, with the exception of the conﬂict with Yugoslavia. Sistemnaya istoriya mezhdunarodnyh otnosheiy v chetureh tomah (Systemic History of International Relations in Four Volumes), 1918–2000, Vol. II, Moscow: Moskovskiy Rabochiy Publishing House, 2000, p. 169. A.N. Yakovlev. Omut pamyati (Memory Whirl). Moscow: Vagrius Publishing House, 2001, p. 284. www.lms.lt/mks/sekcijos/politiai/kudarauskas_sigitas.doc. A.V. Kozyrev. Preobrazhenie (Transﬁguration). Moscow: Mezhdunarondye Otnosheniya (International Relations Publishing House), 1994, p. 103. M. Laar, H. Valk and L. Vehtre. Ocherki istorii estonskogo naroda (Est.: Kodu lugu; Eng: History of the Estonian Nation). Tallinn: Kupar Publishing House, 1992, p. 234. Izvestiya. 16 February 1991. Ukaz Presidenta Rossiyskoy Sovetskoy Federativnoy Sotsialisticheskoy Respubliki (Decree of the President of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic), Nr. 81, August 24, 1991. A.N. Yakovlev. Sumerki (Twilight). Moscow: Materik Publishing House, 2003, p. 601. Vedomosti s’ezda narodnyh deputatov SSSR i verhovnogo soveta SSSR (Proceedings of the Congress of Peoples’ Deputies of the USSR and the Supreme Soviet of the USSR). Nr. 37. September 11, 1991, pp. 1497–1499.

7

Britain and the Baltic states The late 1940s and the early 1990s Craig Gerrard

In September 1945, the ﬁrst meeting of the Conference of Foreign Ministers in London ended in disappointment. There were key disagreements over the status of Tripolitania and other Italian colonies, the Great Power status of France and its representation and inﬂuence at the proposed peace conferences, as well as the political future of East European nations. British Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin singled out Romania and Bulgaria as states which would be touchstones for future relations with the Soviet Union. It was widely accepted in the West that, following the Yalta agreements, Poland was now closely tied to Moscow. It was hoped, however, that Czechoslovakia would regain its independent, democratic character. The Baltic states for their part were not even mentioned, for they had lost their independence and been absorbed into the USSR as Soviet republics in 1940. The British government’s de facto recognition of this reality was in keeping with low levels of support for Baltic independence in London prior to 1939, a state of affairs in part reﬂecting the enormous strain on British resources on the eve of war rather than any lack of interest or concern.1 As things stood, Western governments could do little to inﬂuence the course of events in the former Baltic states. Even the United States accepted that they were unable to change much, although they too withheld any kind of recognition of the incorporation of the three countries into the Soviet Union.2 Britain’s cautious stance was all too evident in a document prepared by the Foreign Ofﬁce Research Department entitled ‘the Consolidation of Communism in Eastern Europe 1948–50’. It discussed all the countries in the Soviet bloc but again excluded Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, on the grounds that they formed part of the Soviet Union, in fact if not in law.3 Indeed, following de facto recognition of the Soviet Union’s control over the Baltic states in 1940, the countries’ diplomatic representatives in London lost their full status, although they remained on an annex to the Diplomatic List, allowing them to stay in London during the war. While they retained this position after the conﬂict ended, the Foreign Ofﬁce sought to ignore missives emanating from the former Baltic Ministers. At the same time, removing them entirely from the Diplomatic List would

74 C. Gerrard have necessitated upgrading recognition of the Soviet annexation of the Baltic countries to de jure.4 Nevertheless, resistance to the Soviet Union was seen by Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin as important in order to prevent charges of appeasement being levelled at Britain. Thus, in April 1946 the Foreign Ofﬁce created an inter-departmental Russia Committee charged with reviewing the development of Soviet policy and activities, and considering what action should be taken, and what help would need to be sought from the United States and France. In the words of Ray Merrick, the Russia Committee was ‘centrally involved in the British interpretation of, and reaction to, the onset of the cold war’.5 Indeed, Merrick describes it as being ‘at the very heart of the British appraisal of the Soviet threat’.6 In May, the Committee considered a memorandum by Christopher Warner, head of the Northern Department, which reafﬁrmed the importance of contesting Soviet designs in ‘Eastern Europe, the Balkans and the Soviet zone of Germany, as well as Persia, Manchuria and Korea’.7 The failure once more to mention the Baltic states conﬁrmed the British acceptance of their unhappy status. This did not prevent Baltic representatives and other members of the Baltic community in Britain from providing the Foreign Ofﬁce and other British ofﬁcials with useful of information on events in the Baltic states during the postwar period. Not that their persistent lobbying was always well received. In January 1946, for example, three leading Lithuanian Social Democrats, Stepanis Karys, Kipras Bielinis and Juozas Paknys, contacted the British authorities to explain what was happening in Lithuania. They argued that the Soviet annexation should be opposed by Britain because ‘the future welfare of humanity will be organised on Social-Democratic and not Bolshevik principles’. They appealed in vain, however, to His Majesty’s government to intervene in the Baltic in order to put an end to ‘the oppression and systematic extermination of the Lithuanian and other Baltic peoples by the Soviet occupation authorities’.8 Later that same year, the Northern Department of the Foreign Ofﬁce received a communication from a group of Baltic students, deploring the conditions in which they and their compatriots were forced to exist, again appealing to the Western democracies to ‘endeavour to realise the ideals of the human liberty, as they have been ﬁxed in the Atlantic Charter’.9 A year later, a group of prominent Baltic citizens called on Great Britain to invoke the ideals of the Atlantic Charter as a means of restoring independence to the Baltic republics.10 None of these missives were successful. In a minute, addressing the request from the Social Democrats, one Foreign Ofﬁce ofﬁcial commented that their plea should not even be acknowledged and hinted that they deserved no sympathy because of what he termed ‘collaboration with Germany’ by the Baltic states, a somewhat distorted and inaccurate view of what had actually occurred during the war years.

Britain and the Baltic states 75 Responding to the calls for the invocation of the Atlantic Charter, the ofﬁcials at the Northern Department continued to believe that what was being requested bore no relation to what could, in reality, be accomplished. Representatives of the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian Central Committee in London wrote to Bevin in December explaining the nature of the Soviet occupation and the coercion in which the Soviet authorities were indulging, and asked for British support in realising Baltic independence. The Foreign Ofﬁce conceded that, while there was truth in what the Baltic representatives said, there was nothing that could realistically be done about the situation.11 The situation was quite unlike in the Middle East, where Britain had clear political, economic and strategic interests at stake, and where it was prepared to meet any Soviet challenge,12 so that British opposition to continued Soviet rule in the Baltic would have been otiose. This position was maintained even though the Foreign Ofﬁce and British politicians were fully aware of the barbarity of the Soviet occupation.13 The ofﬁcial line remained that nothing practical could be done to alleviate the situation.14 It was not long after the end of the Second World War that reports of Baltic armed resistance began to ﬁlter through to London. Resistance had begun almost as soon as the Red Army and the Communist governing authorities moved in and remained in operation until the mid 1950s when amnesties and inﬁltration by the Soviet authorities ﬁnally brought an end to the struggle of the ‘forest brethren’. The resistance movement was particularly strong in Lithuania, but was also well represented in Latvia and Estonia.15 However, the movement was never going to serve as a catalyst for action by the British government, which, in keeping with its de facto recognition of the Soviet conquest viewed the resistance as an internal problem for Moscow. In May 1949, for example, Dr August Rei, a former Head of State of Estonia and then member of the Estonian National Council in Stockholm, contacted US Secretary of State Dean Acheson to inform him that the free representatives of the Baltic republics had presented a memorandum to the Third General Assembly of the United Nations.16 When the matter came up before the General Assembly on 6 October 1950, a time of great international tension, with British and American troops ﬁghting Sovietbacked aggressors in Korea, the British delegation was demonstratively cool in its attitude towards the Baltic states. British representatives Sir Alexander Cadogan and Barbara Castle MP acknowledged the suffering of the people of Eastern Europe, but Castle, while denouncing Soviet brutality, implied that the Baltic nations had been ‘acquired’ and were thus part of the Soviet Union.17 It seems likely that the British authorities realised that the USSR was facing serious problems in attempting to subdue the Baltic nations. The reintroduction of the death penalty in the Baltic states was seen as one sign of this.18 Moreover, reports from émigré sources indicated that the

76 C. Gerrard Lithuanians in particular were inﬂicting fearful casualties on the occupiers, and were continually adopting new tactics.19 An article in the Soviet Lithuania newspaper had described subversive operations by so-called ‘Bourgeois Nationalists’ as the actions of the worst enemies of the Lithuanian people. Clearly, the opposition in Lithuania was large enough to cause the Soviet authorities some concern.20 Although Great Britain was obviously not going to pressurise Moscow to relax its grip on the Baltic states or indeed exploit problems faced by the Soviet authorities as a result of the occupation, it chose not to upgrade its diplomatic recognition of the annexation of the three states from de facto to de jure. De facto recognition had of course been given because of the need to consolidate the wartime relationship with the USSR in 1941 and because the Kremlin was clearly in control of the republics after the war ended. However, given the apparent lack of any political, economic or strategic reasons for fomenting a quarrel with the Soviet Union in this region, it remains signiﬁcant that the British authorities were not prepared to recognise the Baltic conquests as they did other areas of Soviet occupation. The British were prepared to accept ‘the establishment of Soviet rule . . . accomplished by democratic methods and in observance of the required judicial formalities’, as Khrushchev’s dissembling words put it.21 It was almost as if the Foreign Ofﬁce was acting on Moscow’s behalf, by virtue of preventing the treatment of the Baltic states becoming an issue in British politics or public opinion. In this context, it is notable that in 1944, when the Moscow correspondent of the News Chronicle, Paul Winterton, had informed his editor of the appalling conditions existing in the Baltic states, the harsh nature of Soviet rule, and the likelihood of mass deportations of the Baltic people, Orme Sargent of the Foreign Ofﬁce asked his staff to ensure that the substance of Winterton’s communication was not printed.22 Similar treatment was given to Bruce Lockhart, an emissary to Russia at the time of the revolution, when he discovered that mass deportations were likely to occur once the war was over. The Foreign Ofﬁce did not see this as something with which they could concern themselves.23 Their main worry was to prevent such stories reaching the general public, perhaps understandable in wartime. And yet, months after the German surrender, Foreign Ofﬁce ofﬁcial Thomas Brimelow continued to insist, for example, that a plea for British support from the Committee for the Liberation of the Baltic states was not worth reading or acknowledging.24 By contrast, the United States refused to sanction the annexations in any way and were still prepared to give full diplomatic beneﬁts to the erstwhile diplomatic representatives of the Baltic states. Despite British attempts to prevent the Baltic situation becoming an area of dispute with Moscow, there were legal grounds for disagreement between London and the Soviet government regarding the Baltic states, and for withholding de jure recognition. The legality of the British policy

Britain and the Baltic states 77 of recognition of the Baltic states was made an issue as early as November 1945, when the King’s Bench Division of the High Court heard and considered the matter of A/S Tallinna Laevaühistus v The Estonian Steamship Line. The action concerned a ship, the Vapper, once owned by the claimants in the action, which had been sunk in July 1940, a few weeks after the Soviet annexation of Estonia. Since the company which had owned the Vapper had been nationalised by the Soviet administration the defendants in the action, a Soviet body, believed that the claimant company was incapable of making a claim. Prior to the initial hearing, the judge hearing the case, Cyril Atkinson, asked Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin for guidance over the state of diplomatic relations between Britain and Estonia and whether His Majesty’s Government (HMG) considered Estonia to be the independent nation it had been before the war. Christopher Warner of the Northern Department advised Bevin to provide an answer. Though there was no legal requirement to do so, it was deemed important to apprise the courts of Foreign Ofﬁce thinking on the matter. Without it, the judge might, on the basis of the evidence before him, have ruled in a manner inconsistent with British policy. Bevin duly informed Atkinson that HMG recognised the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic and its incorporation into the USSR de facto but not de jure and considered that Estonia as constituted prior to June 1940 had ceased to exist.25 Since the defendants declined to produce any evidence or witnesses at the eventual hearing, Atkinson had to rely on evidence supplied by August Rei, as in English courts foreign law is a matter of the facts presented to the court and has to be assessed on these terms. Atkinson concluded that none of the decrees of the defendants were legal as judged by the old Estonian constitution and had been imposed by a de facto, not a de jure government which was acting ultra vires.26 The judgment meant that the Foreign Ofﬁce had legal cover for its persistence in denying de jure recognition to the Soviet acquisitions. De facto recognition allowed the British government to recognise the reality of Soviet occupation without having to enforce any of the legal obligations, which de jure recognition would have necessitated. These obligations were not insubstantial. In July 1940, the Bank of England sequestrated gold reserves that the Baltic states had deposited in Britain, partly in retaliation for the nationalisation of British-owned property in the Baltic, but also because Britain considered the annexation of the republics by the USSR to be unlawful. Thus, it could not ‘recognise the new governments of the Baltic Soviet republics or their rights to any property’. The loss to the British government and private investors in the Baltic was substantial. HMG lost something in the order of £4,000,000, while the ﬁgure for losses of private companies was well over £1,000,000.27 Despite the British government extending de facto recognition to the new geopolitical status in the Baltic, it did not reallocate the gold to Moscow. Instead, it relied on the Trading with the Enemy Act 1939 as justiﬁcation for keeping the gold in London.

78 C. Gerrard If the gold had been deemed to belong to the Soviet Union prior to June 1941 (the date of the entry of the Baltic states into the war) then it would not have been covered by this legislation, the Soviet Union never having been an enemy of Britain.28 The sequestration immediately caused friction with Moscow, where British obstinacy in refusing to release the gold was taken as a sign that Britain did not have ‘any desire’ to improve Anglo-Soviet relations.29 The British Treasury believed that the gold was secure, ascertaining that Moscow would have made a challenge for it in the courts if it thought it could win. The problem with the gold being vested in Great Britain was that British claims against the Soviet default on payments on the Lena and Tetiuhe bonds could be blocked by the Soviet government.30 On this matter, the Foreign Ofﬁce agreed with the Treasury that British subjects were entitled to compensation for assets which had been expropriated by the Soviet Union, to the amount of approximately £6,125,000. Contentious points included the disposal of ships formerly ﬂying the ﬂags of the Baltic states, insurance payments for any ships which had been sunk, the disposal of Baltic commercial assets in Britain, the question of the Baltic gold being held at the Bank of England, and the Lena and Tetiuhe bonds. In the event of de jure recognition, the Soviet government would have been able to gain these assets through action in the British courts.31 Christopher Mayhew, the Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, made clear to the House of Commons on 27 May 1947 that de jure recognition was not being considered at this time, and informed the House that as a result of Soviet nationalisation measures, HMG had made a general reservation of the ‘right to claim compensation for damage to the British interests concerned’.32 It was unclear whether existing legislation sufﬁced to bolster the British position. Although the gold had been sequestrated under the Trading with the Enemy Act of 1939, if the title to the gold had been transferred to the State Bank of the Soviet Union before Hitler launched Operation Barbarossa, it would not have been enemy property as deﬁned by section 2 of the Act. To meet any possible contingencies, new legislation was necessary. In 1948, when the Soviet government had ﬁrst asked for the gold to be returned, it was refused with reference to Regulation 2A of the Defence (Finance) Regulations 1940. However, these regulations would expire once Britain ceased to be ofﬁcially at war with Germany, that is to say, on signature of a peace treaty. At that stage, it was not known that a peace treaty would not materialise. In any event, the regulations in question were supposed to end on 10 December 1950. The only means of ensuring that the gold was kept was to vest it in the Bank of England.33 The companies and individuals who had been adversely affected by Soviet nationalisation and by the default on the Lena bonds would now, at least theoretically, be eligible for compensation. The position of the British government regarding the Baltic states changed very little from this point

Britain and the Baltic states 79 onwards. The question of gold and compensation for nationalised assets remained unresolved until 1967 when an agreement, equitable to both sides, was worked out. While British policy towards the Soviet Union over the Baltic states remained non-confrontational, the events surrounding the growing desire for independence of the Baltic states allowed Britain to exert at least the modicum of pressure that it had been unable to since 1940, particularly since Mikhail Gorbachev’s policies of glasnost’ and perestroika had helped to ease tensions between the Western and Eastern blocs. Gorbachev’s effort to maintain the illusion of Soviet power by resisting moves towards independence from the Caucasus to the Baltic brought him, however, to a direct confrontation with Lithuania. This followed the acceptance of a motion for the ‘restoration of sovereign powers’ submitted on 11 March 1990 by Vytautas Landsbergis, President of the Lithuanian Supreme Council (previously the Lithuanian Supreme Soviet). How did British policy react to this crisis? Initially, British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was unwilling to add to Gorbachev’s difﬁculties and resisted attempts to force her to condemn the use of force by Moscow in advance. Calling on both sides to show restraint she argued that while Britain had never given de jure recognition to the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states, such a status had effectively been recognised by the Helsinki accords.34 In other words, Thatcher’s stance was pragmatic, reﬂecting a widespread belief among Western leaders that Gorbachev was the best interlocutor for the West’s purposes. The relationship with Gorbachev was not to be jeopardised over what Thatcher viewed as being an internal matter for the USSR. British hopes of remaining at a distance from the developing crisis received a setback when, in April, Gorbachev imposed an economic blockade on Lithuania, refusing to supply it with oil as well as other goods. This action prompted British Foreign Secretary Douglas Hurd to warn that there would be ‘a penalty to pay’ for Moscow if coercion was used against the Lithuanians.35 The somewhat ambiguous tone of this statement nevertheless served notice that the British government was keeping a close eye on Baltic developments. By May Britain was taking a stronger line. On the ﬁfteenth of that month, Hurd warned that the West would apply sanctions if the Soviet Union took military, as opposed to economic action against Lithuania. Over that weekend Gorbachev had raised the stakes by denouncing separatist moves in Latvia and Estonia as well as Lithuania. His refusal to hold talks with them coupled with his hardening attitude brought the prospect of military action a step nearer, at which point Hurd indicated that progress on arms control might be a casualty of any resort to force by Gorbachev. His mood found an echo in Thatcher’s growing sympathy for the plight of the Baltic peoples. Indeed, following a conversation with Lithuanian Prime Minister, Kazimiera Prunskienf, Thatcher agreed that the ‘Lithuanian people have the right to self-

80 C. Gerrard determination’, and called on Gorbachev to moderate his stance.36 Within six months, the signs multiplied that Britain was becoming convinced of the likelihood of Baltic independence or at the very least greater autonomy within the Soviet Union, and therefore wished to establish tentative contacts early in the process. Thus, Thatcher met with Prunskienf’s superior, President Vytautas Landsbergis, at Downing Street, while at the same time Douglas Hurd held talks with Lennart Meri, the Estonian Foreign Minister.37 The real turning point in British–Baltic relations, however, came after Gorbachev gambled on the Gulf War distracting the United States and its allies and at last used force not only against the recalcitrant Lithuanian leadership but against the Latvians too. In both countries, key buildings were occupied and there were casualties. To Gorbachev’s undoubted chagrin, for he had abstained from supporting his old ally Iraq, Douglas Hurd cautioned that preoccupations in the Gulf should not blind Britain ‘to the dangers in the Baltic states’. He speciﬁcally warned against the ‘return to the policies of repression’ by the USSR and suggested that any reversal of the Soviet path to reform would also result in a review of British and Western support for Gorbachev.38 This stand contrasted with the more circumspect treatment of Gorbachev by both Americans and Germans; the one wishing to retain Russian support in the Gulf, the other to secure ratiﬁcation of German reuniﬁcation. Britain, with less directly at stake, was undoubtedly more outspoken, even drawing parallels with 1956, when Anglo-French action at Suez blinded the world to Soviet forces’ brutal suppression of the Hungarian uprising.39 On 21 January 1991, the Soviet chargé d’affaires was summoned to the Foreign Ofﬁce and handed a strong protest about the storming of the Latvian interior ministry. He was told by Hurd that Britain would suspend its two-year know-how fund to the USSR, and would campaign for an end to emergency relief supplied by the European Community.40 This was still a relatively mild action in the circumstances. However, with the air campaign against Iraq only a week old and given the dangers that would ensue from Soviet opposition to the war in the Gulf, Hurd had rather limited options. In response to criticism that the West was easier on Gorbachev than Saddam, on 24 January Hurd argued that the issues of Kuwait and the Baltic states were entirely different. The action being taken against Iraq was proportionate to the crime which had been committed. In the Baltic, it was the course of history rather than a recent invasion which was the source of dispute, and Britain had taken action which was commensurate to the crackdown by Moscow. It had condemned the killings, suspended aid to Moscow and apprised the Soviet authorities that their actions in the Baltic would have consequences for their wider relationship with the West.41 Ultimately, new Prime Minister John Major made clear that all British assistance to the USSR, other than food aid, was likely to be suspended if

Britain and the Baltic states 81 the Soviet repression continued.42 He hoped that the threat would convince Moscow to moderate its actions, and that there would be no need to jeopardise the preceding ﬁve-year improvement in East–West relations. Major was aware that much time and effort had gone into improving relations and international security. In early February, he offered an olive branch to Gorbachev by suggesting Western governments should ‘refrain from conclusions about recent actions until we get more information’, for which he drew praise from Pravda.43 A month later, Major was in Moscow for general talks, in which he apprised Gorbachev of British concern at the use of troops and tanks in Latvia and Lithuania. That Major’s chief purpose was to further cordial relations with the USSR and to bolster the Gorbachev government, was conﬁrmed by Hurd’s remark that Britain would not be ‘turning our backs’ on the Soviet Union.44 However, while bolstering Gorbachev’s rule in the USSR, HMG sought to encourage a liberalisation of Soviet attitudes towards the Baltic republics. Of course, given the limits of British inﬂuence a major change in Gorbachev’s stance was unlikely without a major convulsion on the Soviet political scene. That is precisely what came to pass on 19 August 1991, when a faction of communists, disillusioned with Gorbachev’s regime, mounted a coup. Although put down within a few days, the incident weakened Gorbachev’s position, the rule of the Communist Party and indeed the very existence of the Soviet Union. All the more so in that the increasingly inﬂuential president of the Russian Federation, Boris Yeltsin seemed willing to let the constituent republics of the USSR break their ties with Moscow. While still unwilling to write Gorbachev off, Britain continued to investigate the possibility of restoring diplomatic ties with the three Baltic republics. Ultimately, on 27 August, Britain, along with nine other European governments, recognised the independence of the Baltic states, 51 years after such recognition had in fact, if not in law, been withdrawn. The recognition indicated that HMG was according the Baltic states a status higher than any of the other Soviet republics; indeed, Douglas Hurd pointedly warned against any assumption that Britain would afford similar treatment to other Soviet republics.45 With the Soviet Union inexorably disintegrating, its State Council on 6 September bowed to the inevitable by dissolving the ties which bound the Baltic states to the Kremlin. It can hardly be argued that Great Britain played a major role in the liberation of the Baltic states from Soviet rule, but the British government did show a greater concern for the plight of the Baltic peoples as well as more willingness to criticise Moscow for its repressive policies in the region than had been possible in the 1940s. At that stage, the battle lines were being drawn for a conﬂict threatening the very survival of Britain and its allies, leaving little inclination or, more to the point, capacity to intercede in the defence of the three Baltic states. The absolute priority the British government had to give to the defence of its own territories

82 C. Gerrard allowed it to override the question of Baltic sovereignty during the life and death struggle against Hitler’s Reich. All was very different by the 1990s, with the easing of East–West relations and the Soviet Union in visible decline. The residual concern of British politicians not to damage the favourable relationship they had developed with Gorbachev never prevented them entirely from pressurising Moscow when necessary. Arguably, notwithstanding its historic interest in the region, Britain’s Baltic policy during the formative years of the Cold War might well appear less than heroic. If the British government of the 1940s had shown – not without cause in a highly dangerous European environment – a greater degree of self-interest than its 1990s counterpart, both had attempted to weigh up accurately the extent to which British power could inﬂuence the situation. In both cases, the phrase attributed to R.A. Butler by Bjorn Prytz, ‘common sense, not bravura’ would be an accurate depiction of how they acted.

Notes 1 Craig Gerrard, ‘The USSR and the Baltic States at the end of World War II: the view from London’ in Olaf Mertelsmann (ed.), The Sovietization of the Baltic States, Tartu: Kleio, 2003, pp. 53–54. 2 John Hiden and Patrick Salmon, The Baltic Nations and Europe: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in the twentieth century, London: Longman, 1991, p. 124. 3 FORD report, 16 June 1950, FO 371/86146/N1042/11. 4 Gerrard, op. cit. pp. 49–50. 5 Robert Merrick, ‘The Russia Committee of the Foreign Ofﬁce and the Cold War, 1946–47’, Journal of Contemporary History, 20, 1985, p. 455. 6 Ibid., p. 466. 7 Ibid., p. 456. 8 Lithuanian Legation to Warner, 7 January 1946, FO 371/55968/N426. 9 Chancery Paris to Northern Department, 12 November 1946, FO 371/55969/N14683. 10 Balutis, Zarina and Torma to Foreign Ofﬁce, 24 November 1947, FO 371/65753/N13709. 11 Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian Central Committee to Bevin, 1 December 1947, FO 371/65753/N14778. 12 Raymond Smith, ‘Ernest Bevin, British ofﬁcials and British Soviet policy, 1945–47’, in Ann Deighton (ed.), Britain and the First Cold War, Basingstoke, Macmillan (1990) p. 45. 13 Gerrard, op. cit. pp. 45–46. 14 Ibid., pp. 49–50. 15 Italian sources estimated that as many as 42,000 partisans fought as part of the ‘Iron Wolves’ in Lithuania, with strong but smaller numbers of ﬁghters in the ‘Brothers of the Forest’ in Latvia and the ‘Forest Brothers’ in Estonia, see Chancery British Legation to Holy See to Northern Department, 18 March 1949, FO 371/77241/N2729. For more on the history of the resistance in Estonia, see Mart Laar, The War in the Woods: Estonia’s Struggle for Survival 1944–1956, Washington: Compass Press, 1992. 16 Torma to Hankey, 24 August 1949, FO 371/77242/N7691. 17 Chancery Washington to Northern Department, 30 November 1950, FO 371/86203/NB1015.

Britain and the Baltic states 83 18 Kelly (Moscow) to Bateman, 27 January 1950, FO 371/86202/NB1015/4. 19 Dening (FORD) minute, 13 March 1949, FO 371/86202/NB/1015/10. 20 Chancery (Moscow) to Northern Department, 18 June 1948, FO 371/71244/ N6576. 21 Nikita Khrushchev, Khrushchev Remembers, London: Andre Deutsch, 1971, p. 149. 22 HMG Legation (Moscow) to FO, 23 October 1944, FO 371/43053/N6541. 23 Balfour (Moscow) to Warner, 18 October 1944, FO 371/43053/N5011. 24 ‘Memo on the re-establishment of Baltic independence and the problem of Eastern Europe’, 20 December 1945, FO 371/47043/N17279. 25 Atkinson (Royal Courts of Justice) to Bevin, 23 November 1945, FO 371/47043/N16258. 26 Blake (Ministry of War Transport) to FO, 31 January 1946, FO 371/55971/N1607. For Atkinson’s judgment, see (1946) 79 Lloyd’s Law Reports 245. The judgment was substantially upheld on appeal, see (1947) 80 Lloyd’s Law Reports 99. 27 Antonijs Zunda, ‘The Baltic States and Britain during the Second World War’ in Patrick Salmon and Tony Barrow (eds), Britain and the Baltic: Studies in commercial, political and cultural relations, 1500–2000, Sunderland: University of Sunderland Press, 2003, pp. 279–280. 28 Bank of England to Miss Loughnane, 4 October 1946, T 100/171/01. 29 Lloyd C. Gardner, Spheres of Inﬂuence: the partition of Europe from Munich to Yalta, London: John Murray, 1993, p. 84. 30 Minute by J.R. Culpin, 27 March 1947, T 100/171/01. 31 Warner minute, 4 March 1947, FO 371/65753//N2782. 32 Warner statement, Parliamentary Debates, House of Commons, 27 March 1947. 33 Cabinet Economic Policy Committee minute by P.J. Mantle, 29 September 1949, T/100/171/01. 34 Independent, 28 March 1990, p. 1. 35 Independent, 16 April 1990, p. 18. 36 Guardian, 15 May 1990, p. 1. 37 The Times, 7 November 1990. 38 The Times, 14 January 1991. 39 Timothy Garton Ash, ‘A continent confounded by terror’, Independent, 17 January 1991. 40 The Times, 22 January 1991. 41 Douglas Hurd, ‘Why Kuwait isn’t Lithuania’, Guardian, 24 January 1991. 42 Independent, 25 January 1991. 43 Guardian, 5 February 1991. 44 Independent, 4 March 1991, p. 10. 45 The Times, 28 August 1991.

8

French policy towards the Baltic states, 1939–1991 From abandonment to reunion Suzanne Champonnois

L’avenir dure longtemps. Tout peut, un jour, arriver, même ceci qu’un acte conforme à l’honneur et à l’honnêteté apparaisse, en ﬁn de compte, comme un bon placement politique (Charles de Gaulle, Mémoires de guerre ‘Le Salut, 1940–1946’, Paris, Plon, 1959)

Diplomatic relations between France and the three newly independent Baltic states would be best characterised as cordial rather than warm during the period between the two World Wars. Quite close cultural links, however, were maintained, thanks to the actions of several French universities with a longstanding interest in these countries. As one of its conditions for joining an alliance with Britain and France in August 1939 to thwart Nazi aggression, the USSR insisted that the Soviet Army should be authorised if necessary to enter the territory of the Baltic states in order to attack Germany. The refusal of the two Western powers to consent to Soviet demands was one of the reasons why the USSR opted instead for an alliance with the Reich, through the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact of 23 August 1939. As a result, Hitler’s Reich became one of only two countries to recognise the subsequent annexation of the Baltic states by the USSR. This was done by means of a German–Soviet protocol of 10 January 1941 that recognised the new frontiers between the two countries. When the Wehrmacht entered Paris on 14 June 1940, Hitler received a congratulatory telegram from Stalin. In August of that year, the USSR demanded that the German occupation authorities hand over the Parisian embassy premises of the newly annexed Baltic countries to Soviet control. This was done after the Germans made representations to the Parisian Municipal Authorities on behalf of their Soviet ally. The buildings in question therefore passed to the USSR, and were not returned to their owners after 1991. Reluctant to begin long proceedings against a Russia apparently in the throes of breaking up, the French government decided instead to grant new provisional premises to the three restored Baltic states. Today, each country has its own embassy.

French policy towards the Baltic states 85 In 1939, the Central Banks of Latvia and Lithuania had deposited a proportion of their gold reserves (1000 kg and 2246 kg, respectively) in France following the initial Soviet threats to the integrity of their countries. These reserves were evacuated to Dakar in June 1940, and remained intact until 1991, despite forming the object of frequent discussions between France and the USSR. France always refused to hand over this gold, for in the absence of a peace treaty such an action could have been construed as an indirect recognition of annexation. Similarly, the absence of a treaty clarifying the national situation of the three states meant that France would not use the reserves in order to aid Baltic refugees. This attitude undermined the possibility that France might gain compensation for French property expropriated by the USSR in the territories that fell under Soviet control after 1939. The USSR linked this question to that of the Baltic gold. Negotiations in 1945 and 1956–1957 came to nothing. The gold was eventually returned to the Baltic states after they recovered their independence in 1991. By 1944, the situation in Europe had changed. In spite of the principles established by the 1941 Atlantic Charter, it was the Yalta policy of drawing spheres of inﬂuence which emerged triumphant. In the case of the Baltic states, this amounted to an unspoken conﬁrmation of the 1939 Molotov– Ribbentrop Pact. The USSR had annexed the three countries following a ‘popular consultation’ that was carried out under threat of force and reprisal. The Soviet government for its part asserted that the three countries had voluntarily opted for incorporation. The Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact had been largely forgotten following the German attack of 1941, while the Soviet victory of 1945 gave the USSR a positive image. France was in need of allies, for although Churchill was relatively well-disposed, Roosevelt had little fondness for de Gaulle.

The 1944 Franco-Soviet Pact The USSR recognised the French Committee for National Liberation (le Comité français de libération nationale) on 23 August 1943. In October 1944, it alone among the ‘Allies’ gave recognition to the provisional government of the French Republic. General de Gaulle also visited Moscow in December 1944 in order to seek support for and conﬁrmation of his de facto authority in France. His discussions with Stalin and Molotov covered Franco-Soviet relations, the fate of Germany and the future of Poland, about which no agreement was reached. Entirely absent from these discussions was the question of the Baltic states, which the USSR now considered as its own. The fact that de Gaulle was seeking political support and ofﬁcial recognition for his government made it impossible for him to insist that France did not recognise this annexation and that it would not hand over the Baltic gold to the USSR. Nevertheless, it remains puzzling as to why, in

86 S. Champonnois September 1991, President Mitterrand’s Foreign Minister Roland Dumas alleged that de Gaulle would have been ready to ‘turn a blind eye to the annexation of the Baltic states’ for the sake of arrangements on the Rhine frontier.1 This is a claim denied by all surviving witnesses of the General’s meeting with Stalin. Admittedly, on visiting Moscow De Gaulle was mindful that the Rhine frontier constituted a zone of security for France. However, this concern found no echo among the Soviet ofﬁcials with whom he came into contact. Nor is there any evidence from archives or memoirs to suggest that the future of the Baltic states was one of the topics discussed at the meeting. Indeed the records of an earlier encounter in Washington between de Gaulle and Roosevelt during July 1944 make it clear that the General had not forgotten the three countries whose annexation had coincided with the fall of Paris in 1940. When the President argued that Europe would henceforth be placed under protection, in a postwar world controlled by the USA, Britain, the Soviet Union and China, de Gaulle asked whether ‘strengthening the Soviets didn’t carry the risk of sacriﬁcing the Poles, the Czechs and the Balts’.2

The fourth Republic and the Baltic states: an inauspicious record As was the case in all countries during the ﬁrst postwar years, however, the French were too concerned with the daunting task of reconstruction to worry about the fate of regions about which there was still widespread ignorance. As a result, the Baltic republics never ﬁgured in the political discussions or press coverage of the period. While European countries were happy to accept US assistance in the process of postwar construction through the Marshall Plan of 1947, Moscow’s insistence that those peoples which it considered as falling within the Soviet sphere of inﬂuence should refuse the offer divided Europe in two. The USSR was very quick to reproach France not only for having chosen the American camp, but also for accommodating on its territory Ukrainian, Polish and Baltic refugees, who it claimed ought to be returned to their country of origin. Yet France refused obstinately to repatriate these peoples against their will. Nevertheless, the part played by the USSR in the allied victory ensured that the French Communist Party enjoyed strong support at this time, garnering 27 per cent of the vote in the ﬁrst postwar election. Even after the removal of communist ministers from government in 1947, the party continued to exert weight in political life through its violent opposition to the establishment of the Atlantic Alliance and the progressive readmission of Germany to the Western bloc. As a result, there was little prospect that the situation in Eastern Europe might be called into question. Thus, in 1947 almost two-thirds of the French still believed that the ruined, divided and

French policy towards the Baltic states 87 occupied Germany constituted a threat, and that the USSR was the only power in Europe capable of ensuring peace.

Non-recognition of the annexation of the Baltic countries Under these circumstances, France long remained ambivalent over the Baltic issue, failing to take a decisive stand on the fate of the three countries. Unlike the USA and United Kingdom, the Vatican and other countries, the French government refused to give ofﬁcial accreditation to Baltic diplomats. France’s representatives nevertheless underlined that: the suspension of the political status of the former representatives of the Baltic republics ipso facto in no way implies tacit recognition of annexation. By this policy of not recognising forcible modiﬁcation of an international situation, the French government subscribes to a moral rule that the international community is striving to establish.3 Such hesitancy hardly eased the situation of Balts in France. The latter complained via their exiled ministers that [French] administrative practice was not consistent with the ofﬁcial doctrine of not extending recognition to Soviet annexation. In a letter addressed to the then Président du Conseil Georges Bidault, in June 1950, Latvian representatives recalled the role played by the French Navy off Riga in 1919, as well as Aristide Briand’s ‘unshakeable’ support for de jure recognition of Latvia in 1921. In spite of this, French prefectures would not allow Balts residing in France to use their national passports, insisting that the latter relinquished their nationality upon obtaining the refugee status that they were seeking. Here too French policy was one of hesitancy, as the more restrictive attitude of the Interior Ministry contradicted that of its Foreign Affairs counterpart. In this respect, Jean Laloy of the MAE Directorate of Social and Administrative Affairs observed that: the principal new argument of the Baltic ministers concerns the noticeable difference between the administrative practice of France and that of other western European countries which have not recognised the Soviet annexation of the Baltic countries either de jure or de facto. In November 1954, he wrote that: it is up to the French authorities to adopt those rules that they deem best suited to the French public order; . . . recent examples show that French local authorities have found it difﬁcult to distinguish Baltic refugees from those coming from one of the people’s democracies, or have even classed them as Soviet citizens.4

88 S. Champonnois Yet, in January 1951, the Civil Chamber of the Court of Appeal had already issued a decree on Latvia stating that ‘no treaty has declared the disappearance of this state as a legal entity’. The Court decided that ‘until such time as Latvia’s fate is settled by means of peace treaty, it cannot be ruled that the Latvians are currently without nationality’. It was on the indirect basis of this decree that France’s non-recognition of annexation became ofﬁcial. The Republic did not adopt any ofﬁcial position with regard to the decree, for the simple reason that the war was over and the new territorial order to which it had given rise was generally considered to be durable and stable. In other words, in the eyes of French legal experts, the fait accompli of annexation in no way conferred legality upon it. In 1944–1945, the French government also hesitated over the stance they should adopt towards Baltic refugees, regardless of whether or not the latter had served in German uniform. The policy that eventually emerged after much humming and hawing gave refugee Balts the choice of whether or not to return to their country of origin. Those who refused were deemed to be stateless persons. When information regarding the deportation of Baltic citizens to Siberia began to reach France during 1949, the Government ﬁnally consented to the establishment of a Supreme Committee for the Liberation of Lithuania, which was headed by S. Backis. Even so, at this stage of the Cold War, it remained rare to ﬁnd press articles or books dedicated to the Baltic countries. There were various translations of written works by the Baltic Ministers in exile, while exile groups also produced several reviews such as Est et Ouest. These, however, failed to attract a wide audience. Not only were the Baltic countries by now practically unknown in France, there was also uncertainty as to how to refer to them: were they regions, nations, republics? Meanwhile, the Government prohibited its diplomatic representatives in Moscow and even Leningrad from making ofﬁcial visits to the Baltic republics, as such a move might have been interpreted as giving tacit recognition to the fait accompli of annexation. In July 1953, the French Ambassador to Moscow, Louis Joxe, wrote that: the dearth of documents at our disposal here in Moscow means that we lack exact information on the situation in these territories, which remain closed to diplomats. . . . Notwithstanding the lack of information and the absence of any cross-checking we must continue to pay close attention to how the situation evolves in these three Baltic republics, which constitute the ‘sore point’ of the Soviet Union.5

Franco-Soviet relations after 1958 When General de Gaulle returned to power in 1958, he tried – initially in vain – to forge closer relations with the USSR in order to balance the position held by the Americans within the Atlantic Alliance. At this time, the

French policy towards the Baltic states 89 Soviet and, hence, the French communist press characterised de Gaulle as ‘the man of the grande bourgeoisie and the monopolies’ and, worse still, as an ‘exponent of personal power’ – an original criticism coming from the mouth of Soviet leaders. The latter, however, realised that the General might be a potential ally on account of his desire to assert France’s place in European affairs. Indeed, in an effort to reverse the loosening of Franco-Soviet ties that had been apparent for several years, de Gaulle invited Nikita Khrushchev to Paris in 1960. As it happened, the visit did not bring about any major changes in policy; the capricious Khrushchev contrived to aggravate relations between the allies before ﬁnally bringing them closer together. However, the meeting helped to reinforce a climate of détente in the cultural sphere, as evidenced by the French National Exhibition held in Moscow in 1961. 1960 – when de Gaulle positioned himself ﬁrmly in the Western camp during the Berlin crisis – was an important year in the development of French Baltic policy. Annoyed at a setback that had been occasioned by the intransigence of the Soviet First Secretary, de Gaulle was eager to reiterate ﬁrst truths. He used the occasion of a press conference given in Nice in October 1960 to declare that ‘an empire is seeking to oppress a number of Europe’s nations’, going on to list them as ‘Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Albania, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Prussia and Saxony’.6 He thereby bracketed the three Baltic republics with those nations which – although satellite countries – were ofﬁcially independent. The point was further driven home during de Gaulle’s televised end-ofyear address, in which he again declared that ‘the USSR is subjugating more than a dozen peoples who have no afﬁnity with it whatsoever’. His remarks enraged the French Communist Party (PCF), whose organ L’Humanité launched bitter attacks against the ‘reactionary’ de Gaulle. In truth, de Gaulle felt that genuine national independence would only be possible if France were able to free itself somewhat of American tutelage. Six years later de Gaulle appeared during his Moscow visit as the man who was challenging American policy in Vietnam and who had pushed NATO out of France (without relinquishing membership). During his triumphal visit, he referred to the USSR constantly as Russia, save for one occasion on the last day. Yet the price of this rapprochement was a form of censorship concerning everything thing taking place in the USSR, which therefore precluded mention of the Baltic states. De Gaulle refused to visit these countries, just as Khrushchev had refused to visit Algeria in 1960. Although Baltic refugee groups had urged the French leader to appeal during his Moscow visit for the ‘restoration of freedom and independence’, an intervention of this nature would have had little practical effect, and there was never even any question of it being made. One bonus for de Gaulle was that the Paris–Moscow rapprochement enabled him to neutralise communist opposition to his domestic policy.

90 S. Champonnois When the May 1968 events took place in Paris, the PCF actually acted as a brake on leftist activity against the General’s rule.

Détente takes hold under Pompidou President Georges Pompidou (1969–1974) tried to remain faithful to the policy of his predecessor, upholding the need to ‘talk to Moscow’ as an essential component of the Gaullist heritage. Consistent with that, Pompidou made no mention of the Baltic states during his ofﬁcial visit to the USSR in 1970. This policy was effectively akin to a ‘false window’: France was seeking to strike a balance between, on the one hand, its relations with the USSR (devoid of political content, but real and signiﬁcant from an economic point of view) and, on the other hand, its policy of rapprochement with the USA, which the President elaborated and discreetly defended. The need for discretion can be explained by the attitudes of French intellectuals. Taking their lead from Sartre and de Beauvoir, these were as quick to laud ‘Soviet progress’ as they were to criticise the USA against this background. In 1973 Pompidou committed France to participation in the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) requested by the USSR.

The Helsinki Accords of 1975 When Valéry Giscard d’Estaing hosted an ofﬁcial visit by Brezhnev at the start of his seven-year presidency (December 1974), he accepted in the name of France that the CSCE ‘ﬁnal act’ be approved by heads of state and of government rather than simply by ministers. The other Western countries would also adopt this French concession, thereby allowing Brezhnev to conclude with great pomp a set of negotiations that he considered to be a triumph of his own personal diplomacy. By declaring the inviolability of existing frontiers, the Helsinki Accords appeared to set the seal on the Soviet domination of Eastern Europe; they conﬁrmed the existence of two Germanies separated by an Iron Curtain. Brezhnev was seeking acceptance of the frontiers bequeathed by the Second World War (in the case of the Baltic states they were a product of the 1939 German–Soviet Pact), but the Western camp insisted on the insertion of paragraph VIII, a ‘third basket’, on the right of selfdetermination of peoples and the free circulation of persons and ideas. The Soviets only accepted this demand following long debates and under threat of a walkout by the Western partners. Brezhnev contented himself by insisting that there was no real substance to the concession – a profound mistake, as the future would demonstrate. Nevertheless, the signature of these Accords was hardly a source of pride for the West, and led to a welter of declarations underlining that the Helsinki Accords did not amount to a peace treaty. On 31 July 1975, the

French policy towards the Baltic states 91 day of the ofﬁcial signing, Giscard d’Estaing declared that: ‘These texts do not in themselves bring any guarantee of peace. Nor do they have the status of treaty: in the view of France they do not imply any recognition of situations that have not been recognised elsewhere.’7 This discreet allusion to the position of the Baltic countries was not included in the summary of Giscard’s speech issued by the TASS News Agency. Despite the reticence of many nations in signing up to the Helsinki Final Act, the fact that almost 40 did so seemed to spell victory for Brezhnev and the USSR. Ideological conﬂict continued nevertheless. When, in October 1975, the French President declared at the Kremlin that an ideological armistice would be a logical consequence of the Accord, Brezhnev replied that ‘international détente in no way signiﬁes the abandonment of the struggle of ideas’. It was not long therefore before disputes began over the interpretation of the Act. These ﬁrst became apparent in Vilnius, where a group ‘for monitoring the application of the Helsinki ﬁnal act’ was formed during 1976; the establishment of the group was reported on 1 December of that year by the Reuters News Agency and the French press. Divergences become all the more evident during the conferences in Belgrade (1978) and Madrid (1981), where the Soviet authorities were criticised for their nonobservance of paragraph VIII and their relentless pursuit, arrest and sentencing of the monitoring organisations set up by patriotic Balts. Giscard remained, however, notably intent on keeping to the spirit of the ﬁnal Act. In February 1977, for example, he declined to receive Russian dissident Andrei Amalrik.8 A few weeks later, in June 1977, he repeated that he did not wish to allude to speciﬁc instances of legal action against defenders of the ﬁnal Act within the USSR, on the pretext that ‘we would not accept external diplomatic intervention in the French legal process’. As it happened, the President already seemed to be losing touch with French opinion as far as the Solzhenitsyn affair was concerned. By this stage, moreover, books were appearing depicting the USSR very differently from the sanitised image presented by a still unconditionally loyal PCF Especially notable was Emmanuel Todd’s La Chute ﬁnale?, an ‘essay on the disintegration of the Soviet sphere’. L’Empire éclaté by Hélène Carrère d’Encausse was hugely successful among the wider public. However, Carrère d’Encausse thought that the fall of the Empire would come in Central Asia. She did not believe that the Baltic republics could play a role due to their demographic situation, noting that despite the vigour of Baltic national sentiment, and, at least as regards the Estonians and Latvians, despite everything that differentiates them historically and culturally from the other peoples of the USSR, these nations are in the process not of assimilation, but of physical extinction. The possible disappearance of nations endowed with such a

92 S. Champonnois strong personality is an historical tragedy of which every Balt is unconsciously aware but which no-one seems capable of forestalling . . . each of these nations is becoming weaker by isolating itself in its own particularism and in those features that separate it from the other nations of the region. This isolation and turning in on oneself exacerbates the extreme vulnerability of this part of the USSR which is in all respects the most modern, the most penetrated by external inﬂuences, the least sovietised. Yet nothing seems capable of halting the march of the Baltic countries towards the annihilation of their nations.9 While History has shown this pessimism to be unwarranted, this book played an important role in bringing the Soviet Baltic republics to the attention of French intellectual circles. It also presented an in-depth analysis of the religious situation in the Baltic countries, most notably the repression which it entailed in Lithuania. Although seeing no prospect of independent Baltic countries, Hélène Carrère d’Encausse demonstrated quite convincingly that the ‘fraternal union of Soviet peoples’ was nothing but a cloak for Russian supremacy, and that the USSR, like all empires, was ﬁnite. Further insights into the empire’s fallibility came when three articles on the Baltic states by journalist Daniel Vernet appeared in Le Monde on 12, 13 and 14 April 1978. Vernet’s overview of the political, social, economic and religious situation recalled how the countries had been annexed, the silence that surrounded the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact and the armed resistance in Lithuania that had lasted until the 1950s. He also evoked Baltic economic development, describing the productive Kolkhozy, precision industry and high value-added mechanical, electrical and electronic goods that gave the three republics a signiﬁcant share of Soviet Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and ensured that they occupied an enviable – and envied – position within the union. Vernet also highlighted the dreadful housing situation occasioned by the inﬂux of Soviet immigrant workers, and showed how the Church acted as a rallying point for many opponents of the regime. He indicated that 35 editions of the Chronicle of the Catholic Church in Lithuania had been published in samizdat since 1972. In the face of this evidence, the Quai d’Orsay took steps to rectify French policy from the following year onwards. Notably, the Minister of Foreign Affairs sent an ofﬁcial protest at the sentencing in Moscow of a further Russian dissident, Yurii Orlov, who had initiated a boycott of the USSR by hundreds of scientists. A month later, he lodged a further protest against various Soviet criminal proceedings, some of which were directed against Baltic nationals. These were trials which, according to the French President, ‘could not but arouse deep concern’. It is important to bear in mind that the period 1975–1980 had also witnessed the American defeat in Vietnam, the Moscow-backed Cuban intervention in Angola and the apparently timid presidency of Jimmy Carter,

French policy towards the Baltic states 93 while all the time the USSR made advances in Africa and the Middle East. These years seemed to suggest that the USA was in eclipse, and Giscard d’Estaing saw this as an opportune moment to pursue a more independent policy. This explains why, despite the invasion of Afghanistan, he refused to implement sanctions against the USSR, just as he refused to adopt an unequivocal position on France’s participation in the Moscow Olympics, when certain yachting events were held in the Bay of Tallinn. Did this not constitute indirect recognition of annexation? Giscard furthermore refused to assist what he referred to as the ‘rébellion’ – as opposed to ‘resistance movement’ in Afghanistan. He also praised Moscow for the ‘restraint’ that it allegedly showed at the start of the Solidarity-led disturbances in Poland from 1980, and especially in 1981. With presidential elections approaching in France, Giscard was clearly seeking to appeal to voters on the Left by capitalising on support from the USSR. In the event, 15 days before the election, the Soviet ambassador paid him a semi-ofﬁcial visit at the Elysée. Not desiring any change in French policy, Moscow made no secret of its preference for maintaining a right-wing government. In truth, dialogue with Soviet ofﬁcials no longer paid off. French opinion was well aware of the relentless attacks by the Kremlin ‘Old Guard’ on a dissidence that was adopting multiple forms, expressing itself ever more forcefully and increasingly eluding the authorities, however much the latter resorted to trials and internment in psychiatric hospitals or the Gulag. Giscard d’Estaing failed to gain support from the French communists and was abandoned by a section of the Right. He was duly beaten in 1981.

A change in tone under Mitterrand The newly elected President Francois Mitterrand had no need to ﬂirt with the USSR in order to be seen as a man of the Left. He had no fear of the Communist Party, which was to become a ‘prisoner’ of his government through its occupation of three ministerial posts. The Socialist Party in power was therefore able to emphasise defence of human rights through its criticism of the Afghan War, thereby highlighting once again article VIII of the Helsinki Final Act, which the USSR under Brezhnev, Andropov and Chernenko seemed intent on forgetting. It was at this point that the Baltic question became a European one, due to the intervention of the EU parliament in Strasbourg. With Moscow deaf to reminders of the obligations that it accepted when signing the Final Act, and still engaged in strict repression against what ‘it termed dissidents’, a substantial majority of Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) proposed in January 1983 that the case of the Baltic states be referred to the United Nations special commission for decolonisation.10 The initiator of the motion, German Christian Democrat deputy Otto

94 S. Champonnois von Habsburg, argued that it would provide the UN with the opportunity to apply one of the grand principles to which it constantly referred. Typically, the proposal emanating from the European Parliament found little echo in the French press. The sole exception was the newspaper La Croix, which referred to it in an article entitled La Lituanie oubliée. This noted that: The European parliament has acknowledged the existence of these three republics that the USSR annexed in 1940. In these countries, which are less open and less well-known than neighbouring Poland, men are also ﬁghting in the shadows, for freedom and for their national identity.11 The journalist speculated further as to whether ‘the United Nations will have the political courage to place the problem of the Baltic states on the agenda, most notably of the commission’. The UN did not.

Ambivalence in Franco-Soviet relations Little by little, however, there was a change in tone in Franco-Soviet relations. Indeed, the USSR reproached President Mitterand for having abandoned the Gaullist policy of ‘entente, détente and cooperation’. To be sure, France had demonstrated its approval and support for Washington’s policy during the missile dispute of 1983–1984. At the same time, it is difﬁcult to overlook the growing condemnation of Soviet policy within French public opinion, as more and more people became aware of the USSR’s determination to suppress any group that defended the Helsinki Accords. The French public probably understood only too well that its government was reluctant to embrace the cause of the Baltic republics lest this embitter its relations with the USSR. In that respect, the so-called years of ‘stagnation’ saw the emergence in Europe of a kind of soft consensus, dubbed ‘peaceful coexistence’. At governmental level, this involved passing diplomatic notes or even on occasion a public exchange of views, but there was no desire to go beyond this. Further signals were given by the French in responding to the persistent calls from the USSR for disarmament, as it found it impossible to keep up with the pace of the arms race advocated by the new US President Ronald Reagan as part of what became known as ‘Star Wars’. Thus, on each occasion that France was called upon to support the USSR, its ofﬁcial responses pointedly emphasised the principles agreed in Helsinki, freedom of movement and the free exchange of ideas. A kind of ritual sparring set in. It was almost as if all the parties involved actually wanted the situation to deteriorate. Meanwhile, important changes were also occurring in the Baltic republics, where Estonians and Latvians in particular were becoming

French policy towards the Baltic states 95 increasingly anxious about the inﬂux of Soviet immigrants into the region, a trend threatening the very existence of their peoples. Information was more readily available, in the sense that the Helsinki Final Act had produced at least one positive outcome, namely an end to the jamming of radio broadcasts. Works banned in the USSR had already been read across the world; now overseas radio broadcast them in almost all of the languages of the USSR. Doctor Zhivago, for instance, reminded the oldest generation of Balts of a period in which they won their independence from the Bolsheviks. By the same token, the Gulag Archipelago could hardly fail to move the inhabitants of these republics, many of whom had themselves experienced the camps. In sum, a regime characterised by stilted ritual and wooden rhetoric had by now become the object of ridicule and contempt. The extraordinary popularity of the Soviet protest song across the world at this time is one indication that the Helsinki demand for free circulation of ideas had been realised.

A ‘new way of thinking’ The real situation in the USSR was only revealed to the world following the accession to power of Mikhail Gorbachev in 1985. The relative youth of the new General Secretary, his personal style and his seemingly open mind all played well with the public, especially in France. An inspired print media now began to discover the Baltic question, with Bernard Guetta’s contributions to Le Monde especially notable among the growing stock of articles. As an agricultural expert, Gorbachev was well aware of how things really stood in the country. He now admitted what everyone at home and abroad who was unwilling to turn a blind eye had long recognised: that the Soviet economy had been in decline since the end of the 1970s; that the country was under-developed; that agriculture, despite billions of roubles of investment, was incapable of feeding the population, with millions of tonnes of cereals being imported annually from the USA, Argentina or France; that, slowly but surely, life expectancy was falling; that alcoholism was leading the USSR to defeat in a war without an enemy; that losses in Afghanistan were sapping the morale of society, and that this colonialist-style struggle would be lost following the appearance on the battleﬁeld of American surface-to-air missiles. In short, it was essential to renounce the policy of competition decreed by Brezhnev and adopt instead ‘a new way of thinking’; global issues could no longer be understood solely in terms of class struggle. Revolutionary though this sounded coming from a communist leader, it made less of an impression on public opinion than the other mots d’ordre of Gorbachev’s programme: ‘acceleration of growth’; ‘restructuring’ (perestroika) and ‘transparency’ (glasnost’). It was thereby recognised that political and

96 S. Champonnois ideological debate, frozen for 70 years and still rejected only recently under Brezhnev, could now be resumed on bases other than those of traditional Marxism–Leninism. Gorbachev could not anticipate that in taking these steps, he would open Pandora’s box and ﬁnd himself overwhelmed by a ﬂood of nationalist demands. The slogans that he had launched in an attempt to reactivate a society utterly paralysed by political stagnation, the corrupt nature of the nomenklatura and the cynicism of many leaders were interpreted in a way that gave priority to nationalism. Restructure the USSR? Certainly, if it meant recognising the autonomy of the Baltic states. Fostering ‘transparency’ also responded to a long-standing desire to see the clauses of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact ﬁnally brought into the public arena. The ‘new way of thinking’ had in truth long been characteristic of Baltic dissidents and all those who had sought to rediscover their true history from behind the interpretations imposed by the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. The media in the three Baltic republics, in so far as they were not controlled solely by the Soviets, played an important role by giving a national slant on events and organising discussions around them in order to illustrate the new thinking. At the same time, nationalist demonstrations were being organised under all manner of pretexts and to mark every possible anniversary: the German–Soviet pact of 23 August 1939, key events from the interwar period (e.g. the independence proclamations of 1918), and also the Stalinist deportations of 1940–1941 and 1949.

The train is leaving. Should we get on board? News broadcasts by Voice of America and Radio Free Europe ensured that these demonstrations were closely followed across the world. In France, a section of the press believed – or rather wanted to believe – that the USSR could transform itself into a market economy on the back of a few ‘independent cooperatives’. As a result, Gorbachev had a much higher degree of popularity in France and across Europe than he enjoyed in his own country. Other dailies, however, pointed out that the demonstrations met with harsh repression from the police and the KGB. In Riga, for example, the police stood guard over the Freedom Monument in order to prevent it becoming the centre of every meeting. The reaction of the French leadership to these historical events can be characterised as a combination of astonishment and fear. Astonishment that, after so many years of stability, they were witnessing the internal collapse not only of the socialist bloc, but also of a state which, just a few years earlier, had seemed solid and had inspired fear across the world. Fear also that the weakening and rapid decline of the Soviet regime might open up a huge void in Eastern Europe where anything might happen. The French President had reached an age where rapid change no

French policy towards the Baltic states 97 longer appeared as something desirable. He could hardly fail to be delighted by the developments that he was witnessing, but his understanding of them was less than perfect. He wanted everything to go off smoothly, and did not understand what was driving the Baltic national movements. He feared that their alacrity, however understandable, was premature and might provoke a violent backlash in Moscow, inciting Soviet leaders to resort to the same methods which decades earlier had proved so devastatingly effective in Budapest and Prague. In his view, it was better not to intervene and instead to leave the ferment of dissolution to do its work. History should not be accelerated. This becomes clear from the stance that Mitterand adopted on 24 March 1990. Here, he reiterated that France had not recognised the annexation of the Baltic states by the USSR, that it had not handed over to the Soviet government the reserves of Lithuanian gold held by the Banque de France since 1940, and that it opposed any use of force to keep the aspirations of the Lithuanian people in check. Although acknowledging the Baltic states’ indisputable right to independence, he nevertheless observed that the three republics were still integrated into the Soviet Union, and that their aspirations were causing ‘terrible problems’ for Mr Gorbachev. He concluded that France should not add fuel to the ﬂames. Thus, when the USSR imposed an oil blockade in retaliation against the Lithuanian declaration of independence on 11 March 1990, France responded cautiously – not to say pusillanimously – to repeated Lithuanian demands for support and energy supplies. The President’s approach stood in marked contrast to the encouragement which France had supplied unsparingly since the start of the demonstrations in the Baltic countries. For all of its repeated references to the policy of non-recognition, the government was not minded to complicate the task of Mr Gorbachev, or to weaken him in the eyes of his compatriots by interfering in what the General Secretary continued to pretend was an ‘internal affair’ of the Soviet Union. On 1 May 1990, however, Gorbachev’s appearance on Red Square was met with boos, forcing him to leave the podium. In the face of the profound unrest that was now gripping the USSR, there was no question of criticising – on behalf of a ‘minor’ cause – the actions of a man who, whatever his initial intentions, was now in the process of realising what even the most anticommunist of Western politicians would never have dared dream of: the destruction of Soviet power from within. Even so, France’s policy of eschewing direct intervention ensured that the French government acceded to Soviet objections over the proposed admittance of Baltic delegations to the 1990 Paris Conference, convened to proclaim the end of the Cold War. On this occasion, the left-wing press in France would characterise the Baltic representatives as ‘intruders’. The ofﬁcial silence in Paris surrounding events in the USSR contrasted with the almost daily news reports that the press were running on the

98 S. Champonnois situation in the East, even though the looming war in Kuwait and Iraq also occupied the pages of the newspapers and peoples’ minds at this time. The whole world condemned the attacks launched by Soviet special forces (OMON) against Vilnius and then Riga during January 1991, which resulted in deaths in both countries. These brutal, Stalinist-style actions brought considerable discredit to Gorbachev, who claimed rather pitifully that he had no knowledge of what had occurred. Despite these attacks and the unanimous indignation that they provoked within French opinion, the President and Chancellor Kohl had no hesitation in calling upon Lithuania to suspend its state of independence during May 1991 – a step which was evidently designed to come to the aid of Gorbachev. The two leaders’ declaration to the effect that ‘since you have experienced 50 years of occupation, you can wait a few more weeks’ does not count in the favour of either the President or the Chancellor. Both had failed to grasp how signiﬁcantly the situation had now changed. Still more inopportune were the congratulations that President Mitterand felt obliged to send to the instigators of the 19 August 1991 coup d’état, before he understood that these were bent on re-establishing a Brezhnevite, if not Stalinist, political order.

‘In aid of victory’ In the days that followed the failed putsch, France’s leaders, certainly by now better informed of the real situation in the Baltic countries, recognised that this question was no longer an internal affair of the Soviet Union, as they had tried to suggest only a few weeks earlier. Freed of the fear of destabilising the president of the USSR – his compatriots had already seen to this – and feeling the wind changing, the French rushed to assist the victory and recognised the re-establishment of the independence of the Baltic states. Moreover, this was in the face of objections from Mikhail Gorbachev, who claimed that the three countries ‘had not respected the conditions for exit established by the Soviet constitution’. Such objections were no longer of concern to anyone, and a few days later Foreign Minister Roland Dumas restored at least some credit to France by undertaking a highly positive visit to the three countries and announcing the immediate re-establishment of the diplomatic relations that had been interrupted in 1940. This brief overview of French policy towards the Baltic states following their annexation by the USSR suggests that it was determined more by the global events of the second half of the twentieth century than by the will of France’s leaders. The Cold War had distorted international relations across the board, by basing them on force and intimidation. The fear of nuclear apocalypse, which Soviet leaders never hesitated to manipulate, long paralysed French politicians. In their eyes, economic and political relations with the USSR seemed more important than the destiny of three

French policy towards the Baltic states 99 countries, which they preferred to leave in the shadows. As a result, the independence of the Baltic states was in no way the result of their actions. France’s political leaders were spectators rather than active participants. Sources: Archives du Ministère des Affaires Etrangères à Paris. Dossiers Série Europe, sous-série: URSS. Années 1944–1960–1961–1965–1966–1970.

Notes 1 Le Monde, 5 September 1991. 2 Cited by Aglion Raoul, Extraits d’ouvrages, Documents Internet, www.Charles de Gaulle.org, (accessed 26 February 2005). Cf. Aglion Raoul, De Gaulle et Roosevelt, Paris: Plon, 1984. 3 Revue critique de Droit international privé, 1952, p. 681. 4 Jean Laloy, Archives MAE, Direction générale des Affaires Administratives et Sociales, Dossier 129. 5 Louis Joxe, Archives MAE, lettre du 6 juillet 1953, Dossier 129. 6 Discours de Nice du 23 octobre 1960, cited by Bronis Kaslas, La Lituanie et la Seconde Guerre mondiale, Paris: Maisonneuve & Larose, 1981, p. 268. 7 Cited by Romain Yakemtchouk, ‘Les Républiques baltes et la crise du fédéralisme soviétique’, in Studia diplomatica, Brussels: Institut royal des relations internationales XLIII, 4–6, 1990, p. 135. 8 Amalrik was the author of Will the USSR survive until 1984? – a title that elicited much ironic comment amongst the French Left. 9 Hélène Carrère d’Encausse, L’Empire éclaté, Paris: Flammarion, 1978, pp. 62–63. 10 Communist deputies in the parliament voted against. 11 La Croix, 15 January 1983.

9

West Germany and the Baltic question during the Cold War Kristina Spohr Readman1

This chapter investigates the nature of West Germany’s Baltic policies between 1949 and 1990. To date little has been written on Bonn and the Baltic question, with most scholarly literature falling into the ﬁeld of international law.2 The very few historical analyses are essentially all authored by the German Balt and law professor Boris Meissner, who used published materials in conjunction with ﬁrst-hand knowledge gained while working in the Federal Foreign Ministry and the German embassy in Moscow during the 1950s.3 It is crucial to understand that Bonn’s stance towards the Baltic question cannot be examined in isolation from the ‘German question’, which deeply affected the Federal Republic’s very being and hence all of its political choices at home and internationally. The German question stood at the heart of the Cold War in Europe. The divided country with its divided former capital Berlin epitomised the division of Europe and the world into East and West. The Germans – like the Baltic peoples – suffered from unresolved legal issues in the wake of the Second World War. Germany faced the issues of re-uniﬁcation, and an un-concluded peace treaty. For the Baltic peoples (inside the USSR and outside), it was a case of national survival following the Soviet annexation of 1940. Both Germans and Balts could couch their claims in the rhetoric of the UN charter and later the Helsinki Final Act, in which reference was made to the people’s right to self-determination and the peaceful change of borders. Given the signiﬁcance of international law and universal normative values in Western policy with regard to the German and Baltic problems, it is not surprising that, in line with its Western allies, Bonn never recognised de jure the Baltic states’ incorporation into the USSR. Yet, juridical language, policies founded on international law and the ‘German question’ were not the only determinants of Bonn’s approach to the Baltic question during the Cold War. The moral and political legacy of the 1939 Hitler–Stalin Pact also deeply inﬂuenced the thinking of the Federal authorities. As ‘Germans’, this Pact had made them complicit with the Soviet Union, and thus they were tied through guilt and moral responsibility to the fate Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians had suffered

West Germany and the Baltic question 101 with the disappearance of their countries from the European map. At the same time, there was another more positive historical link between Germany and the Baltic nations: the long tradition of close cultural, economic and political ties to the Baltic, which had ﬂourished due to the presence of the German Balt population. These German ties made Bonn look at the Baltic problem through a different lens; not least because German Balt refugees/re-settlers formed a tightly knit and vocal community in West Germany, which actively sought to preserve its identity, and keep the memory and awareness of the fate and history of the Baltic homeland alive. Quite apart from their activities in support of other expellee groups in the Bund der Vertriebenen, German Balts occupied important positions in the West German Foreign Ministry and were thus inﬂuential in West German politics.

West Germany’s legal position on Baltic annexation After the Federal Republic of Germany was created in 1949, the Bonn government made no ofﬁcial statements – either domestically or internationally – regarding its policy towards the Baltic states. In fact, only in responses to individual court cases and queries on the recognition of Baltic citizenship and the validity of Baltic passports in the very early 1950s did Bonn’s stance become formally visible – namely, that it did not recognise de jure the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states.4 It was not until spring 1954 that internal communications of the Auswärtige Amt (AA – German Foreign Ofﬁce) began to deﬁne Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania as subjects of international law and their situation as a Soviet occupatio bellica.5 In this regard, it was asserted that despite West Germany’s partial identity with the Reich – as the Fortsetzer des Rechtsubjekts Deutschland 6 – de jure recognition by Bonn could not be inferred. Consequently, from the perspective of the German juridical system territorial sovereignty, citizenship and rights of ownership of the Baltic states and their citizens continued to exist until a deﬁnitive de jure regulation was recognised by Germany.7 Nevertheless, in terms of morality and historical responsibility, the Bonn government most likely still laboured under the burden of the Nazi collusion with Stalin that had led to the Baltic states’ de facto disappearance from the European map. For the Auswärtige Amt – ofﬁcially reinstated on 15 March 1951 and headed by Chancellor Konrad Adenauer until 6 June 1955 – the nonrecognition policy of the new Federal Republic was inextricably linked to the practice of the Western occupying powers between 1945 and 1949. In July 1946, Professor Grewe had ruled that issues of Baltic nationals in ‘Germany’ – for instance the question of recognition of Baltic passports – had to be dealt with in each zone according to the laws of the relevant Allied occupying power. In the case of the Western zones, this meant that the continuity of Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian citizenship was

102 K. Spohr Readman respected by German courts. The courts in the so-called SBZ (Sowjetische Besatzungszone or Eastern zone), however, insisted on treating Baltic citizens as Soviet citizens – as dictated by Moscow.8 If references to the interpretation and application of international and German law were signiﬁcant for Bonn’s presentation of Germany’s unchanged juridical position on the Baltic problem since 1941, in practice the emerging East–West divide and the inﬂuence of the Western powers within their respective German zones after 1945 played a major role in the shaping of West Germany’s Baltic policy after 1949. No coherent, overarching federal approach to the problems of Baltic citizens was formulated before 1952; nor was there an ofﬁcial and public West German policy on the Baltic question. It was only in September 1952 that an ofﬁcial document dealing speciﬁcally with the citizenship of Baltic nationals and recognition of Baltic passports was issued. Coordinated by the AA and the Federal Ministry of the Interior, it was sent to all Interior Ministries of the Länder and to German diplomatic and consular representations abroad. This circular laid out West Germany’s position of de jure non-recognition of the Baltic states’ incorporation into the Soviet Union, yet also emphasised that this position should not be publicised.9 The near obsession with which Bonn sought to abstain from any ofﬁcially binding public statements regarding its non-recognition policy,10 and its guarded approach to the question of whether Baltic diplomatic missions could be opened in the Federal Republic,11 made it appear much more reserved on Baltic issues than other Western powers. But, given the unresolved German problem, Bonn’s political position was rather precarious during these early Cold War years.

The question of ofﬁcial (West) German–Baltic relations, 1950–1954 From late 1950, when the Allied High Commission allowed Bonn to begin restoring diplomatic relations with the world, Baltic representatives pressed constantly for the establishment of ofﬁcial or semi-ofﬁcial relations with the Federal government.12 This demand was motivated partly by a desire to ensure that the interests of Baltic citizens – who had arrived in West Germany as refugees and were categorised as so-called heimatlose Flüchtlinge (displaced persons or DPs)13 – were well looked after and that assistance could be given on issues related to their social welfare and legal status. Most importantly, however, Baltic representatives were seeking approval for the establishment of Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian diplomatic representations in Bonn.14 Enquiries by Baltic individuals and by existing Baltic diplomatic missions abroad were either lodged directly with the Federal authorities or presented to the Western occupying powers. While West German ofﬁcials initially emphasised the need to obtain

West Germany and the Baltic question 103 Allied approval for any decision taken, the Allied administration indicated that the issues raised by the Balts should be addressed by the Germans themselves, as they saw these matters as lying within the Federal Republic’s own political domain. Indeed, by this time the Western powers did not consider it appropriate to exert executive control over the speciﬁc direction of Germany’s Baltic policies – a sign of how in the early years of the 1950s foreign political sovereignty and responsibility was gradually shifting from the Allied High Commission to the Bonn government.15 This shift in responsibilities became especially visible in the welldocumented talks between representatives of the US High Commission and the AA during 1951–1952. In December 1951, an American ofﬁcial informed the AA of a request by the Baltic missions in Washington to allow Baltic diplomatic representation in Bonn. The State Department, the German ofﬁcial von Trützschler was assured, did not consider this request ‘inappropriate’. Still, Washington was keen to hear an unofﬁcial general German view before pursuing this Baltic request any further and initiating consultations with the British and French governments. The fact that the Allied High Commission in Bonn was not viewed as a suitable framework and location for a meeting of the three Western victor powers hinted at their sensitivity towards and respect for the developing West German government organs. Von Trützschler himself did not express an opinion on the matter of Baltic diplomatic representation in the Federal Republic at the time, but promised a verbal reply after having heard from the relevant permanent secretary.16 Two months later, the US High Commission followed up on the issue of Baltic diplomatic missions in West Germany, only to ﬁnd out that no decision had been taken by Bonn. The reasons were that the Baltic states had no exile governments of similar legitimacy and authority to the Polish one, and that tensions were high between different Baltic émigré groups within each national community. Also, the existence of relics of the three states’ former diplomatic services, representatives of which still ran legations and general consulates of ofﬁcial status in Washington, London and elsewhere, did not help to clarify the issue of who could and/or should be treated as the legitimate representative of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.17 The problem as Bonn saw it was that on an institutional level, representatives of the old Baltic diplomatic corps were embroiled in a battle of authority with the committees and councils of the many exile groups.18 These practical difﬁculties combined with considerations of Deutschlandpolitik to keep the question of Baltic diplomatic missions hanging in the balance.19 As far as West German ofﬁcials were concerned, the main priority was the signing of the Generalvertrag (or Deutschlandvertrag) between the Federal Republic and the Western Allies, a treaty which was supposed to come into force in conjunction with the Treaty on a European Defence Community (EDC) and which would effectively mark the end of occupied status for West Germany.20

104 K. Spohr Readman In 1953, with ratiﬁcation of the General and EDC treaties still pending, Bonn’s standpoint remained unchanged.21 By summer of that year, the issue had reached the point where accreditation of permanent Baltic representatives as diplomats to the Federal government was seen as being out of the question. ‘Certain contacts’ with relevant Baltic personalities were not to be eschewed,22 yet Bonn was still not prepared to grant juridical recognition to ofﬁcial or semi-ofﬁcial intermediary agents of exile groups. Only if representatives were totally unofﬁcial (i.e. not binding in any form under international law) and concerned with the social and economic welfare of their co-nationals were contacts deemed acceptable. In this regard, no representative who met with German ministerial ofﬁcials was to be privileged over another, and all had to be treated as private persons. The hope was that intra-Baltic arguments over the authority and legitimacy of various organisations and representatives would resolve themselves, and would not be played out in front of the AA.23 Differences were particularly acute between the Lithuanian Oberstes Komitee zur Befreiung Litauens (Supreme Committee for the Liberation of Lithuania – Lithuanian acronym VLIK) and the remnants of interwar Lithuania’s diplomatic corps, headed by former diplomat Stasys Lozoraitis (Snr). These two rivals competed ﬁercely for the right to be recognised as the ofﬁcial Lithuanian representative in Germany.24 Founded in 1944 in Lithuania, the VLIK had moved to Pfullingen in Germany the following year. Encompassing representatives of most Lithuanian parties and resistance groups, it claimed to act as a parliament, and portrayed itself as the ofﬁcial successor organ of the Lithuanian government.25 Having ﬁrst in 1950 sought Bonn’s afﬁrmation of its de jure non-recognition policy,26 VLIK later pressed strongly for the establishment of diplomatic relations with the West German government. In line with Allied policy, however, Bonn stressed that it would not sanction any move by an exile organisation towards constituting a government in exile.27 Even so, P. Karvelis, leader of the VLIK’s self-declared ‘Department for Foreign Affairs’ from August 1952,28 did not miss a single opportunity to make himself heard and to seek special status. On 25 August 1953, Karvelis visited the AA and demanded ‘a permanent delegate at the Federal government, equivalent to what was granted to the Estonian and Latvian exile groups’. He was immediately informed that ‘the accreditation he alluded to would not be forthcoming’ and that in fact no such accreditation had been given to either Estonian representative Karl Selter or the Latvian Roberts Liepins, despite the close contacts that both cultivated with the AA. If a VLIK representative wanted to visit the ministry for unofﬁcial discussions of Lithuanian issues (as the aforementioned former Estonian and Latvian diplomats did), this would be possible, but other legitimate representatives of Lithuanian interests would also be allowed to visit.29 The presence of the VLIK meant that politicisation of the 6,000–8,000

West Germany and the Baltic question 105 Lithuanian emigrants in the Federal Republic – some of whom were also organised into the Lithuanian Central Committee, the Lithuanian Red Cross in Germany and other Lithuanian societies – was particularly strong. In this respect, Karvelis’ constant demands for diplomatic recognition served to render German–Baltic relations more problematic than they already were at the outset, given the Cold War context. By comparison, the approximately 11,000 Latvians30 and 4,000 Estonians31 in Germany were primarily organised into what German government documents referred to as ‘so-called displaced persons societies’. These included the Lettische Volksgemeinschaft in der Bundesrepublick Deutschland e.V., Dauvagas Vanagi and the Estnische Volksgemeinschaft,32 and were ﬁrst and foremost concerned with socio-economic and cultural issues. It is noteworthy that all of these societies had equal status with exile societies of German refugees/citizens,33 such as the Pommersche Landsmannschaft, Ostpreussische Landsmannschaft, Sudetendeutsche Landsmannschaft, and, signiﬁcantly, the Deutsch–Baltische Landsmannschaft im Bundesgebiet e.V. and the Landsmannschaft der Deutschen aus Litauen – German Baltic associations dedicated to upholding the German–Baltic traditions of old. The ‘political’ visibility of German Balts among key AA civil servants34 and the leadership of the Verband der Landsmannschaften, VdL (later Bund der Vertriebenen, BdV) during the early 1950s35 were a constant domestic reminder to the West German authorities of the Baltic problem.36 Yet, it is noteworthy that the German Balts’ activities within the VdL/BdV or as individuals were not focused on the Baltic states’ situation per se. Rather, they were concerned with their own issues of compensation related to their resettlement during and after the Second World War. Crucially, in contrast to the other Landsmannschaften (LMs), German Balts did not demand their Heimatrecht, i.e. the right to return to their homelands, although they were in solidarity on this issue with the other LMs within the BdV. That they eschewed such political ambition was largely due to the different historical circumstances surrounding their re-settlement from the Baltic states.37 In 1950–1951, Estonians in Germany had requested the right to establish cultural autonomy of the kind previously enjoyed by German Balts in Estonia during the interwar period. Referring to the law on heimatlose Ausländer of 25 April 1951, however, the West German government indicated that there was no need to grant such autonomy, because as displaced persons the Estonians in question held the same rights as West German citizens, and thus in cultural terms were not to be discriminated against. Bonn could not in any case have made an FRG-wide decision on cultural autonomy, because the individual Länder held sovereignty over cultural matters.38 Like Lozoraitis, Selter (who was openly supported in his efforts by the acting consul general of Estonia in New York, Johannes Kaiv) and Liepins (representative of Karlis Zarins, the head of the Latvian diplomatic corps based in London) were keen that the AA recognise them as the ofﬁcial

106 K. Spohr Readman representatives of their countries. These overtures, however, were not construed as competition by the leaders of national émigré organisations, which made no claims to the status of exile government. Moreover, having understood that gaining ofﬁcial representation would be impossible in Bonn, Selter and Liepins concentrated their efforts to secure the right to assist their compatriots in legal, social and cultural matters, an effort which the German authorities were willing to support. Indeed, the AA interacted far more smoothly with Selter and Liepins than it did with Karvelis.39 Relations with Estonian émigré organisations became more complex at the beginning of 1953, when self-proclaimed exile governments did emerge. On 12 January 1953, August Rei, chairman of the Estonian National Council based in Stockholm as well as former Estonian foreign minister and the last ambassador of free Estonia to Moscow, formed an Estonian exile government in Oslo. The ‘Rei government’ represented left-liberal parties, although it allegedly lacked majority backing within the membership of these parties; furthermore, the various Estonian national committees and diplomats abroad did not recognise this ‘government’. Interestingly, 3 March 1953 saw the formation of a de facto ‘countergovernment’ headed by the last chairman of the upper house of the Estonian parliament, Alfred Maurer, representing more conservative circles. German documents suggest that the latter government, which was based in Germany, enjoyed the backing of around 70 per cent of the Estonian émigré population, whereas the Rei group was seen as having usurped the rights of an exile government. In the long run, however, it was the ‘Rei government’ which would endure, whereas the Maurer group disappeared with the death of its leader. Signiﬁcantly, Germany recognised neither of the two exile governments as legitimate representatives of Estonia.40 The AA left no doubt that Germany had no interest either in prioritising one exile group over another or in recognising an organisation as an exile government. Here, Bonn did not differ from its Western Allies: even those Western governments that treated Baltic diplomats as legitimate diplomatic representatives of their countries never recognised any organisation as a government in exile.41 The remnants of the diplomatic corps of the three Baltic states were unmistakably their own political force, as consultations in June 1952 between Baltic diplomatic representatives proved.42 Baltic diplomats rejected any rapprochement with politically ambitious exile groups, fearing this would complicate the question of who legitimately represented their countries. They were keen to reﬂect the historical continuity of their respective foreign services from the interwar period to the present, since this allowed for ofﬁcial recognition abroad. The new self-declared authorities/exile governments were seen as muddying the waters with their political factionalism and lack of proven historical connections to

West Germany and the Baltic question 107 the time of Baltic independence. Worse still, these aspects threatened to destroy the juridical continuity thesis of the Baltic states’ existence altogether.43 As established above, in terms of international law there was no doubt in the minds of the West German political establishment that the Baltic states’ absorption into the USSR was illegal, and Bonn had no interest whatsoever in recognising this annexation de jure. While this position had been laid down in internal papers and made public in the context of individual Baltic citizenship queries, no conclusive public statement had yet been made on the international stage. With ofﬁcial German–Baltic relations in limbo, the AA took a close interest in how other Western states were handling the Baltic question and the issue of those states’ representation. To this end, information was gathered on Baltic diplomatic representations elsewhere (see Table 9.1 below).44 Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian queries concerning the re-establishment of diplomatic relations with ‘Germany’ continued to pour into the AA during 1953–1954, yet the emphasis of these enquiries shifted from the creation of full-scale legations to that of consulates or passport bureaux.45 Gaining permission for passport bureaux was seen as more likely, especially in light of a May 1953 edict by the Länder Interior Ministries which Table 9.1 Diplomatic representation of the Baltic States in the world (1954) Estonia

Latvia

Lithuania

Legations

– London – – – –

Washington London – Rio de Janeiro Paris –

Washington London Vatican Rio de Janeiro – Montevideo

General consulates

New York

– –

New York Toronto

Den Haag

–

– – Consulates

– Rio de Janeiro Sao Paulo – –

– – – Oslo Toronto

Chicago – Sao Paulo – –

Representation of interests

Paris Madrid – – –

Madrid – – – –

– Francea Italya Swedena Switzerlanda

Note a semi ofﬁcial or totally unofﬁcial.

108 K. Spohr Readman stipulated that displaced persons seeking identity cards had to be able to prove their identity on the basis of valid ofﬁcial documents. This was especially signiﬁcant since the International Refugee Organisation (IRO), which had issued refugee IDs since the war, had ended its mission in West Germany in June 1952.46 At least in the case of Baden-Württemberg, the regional edict implied that in order to attain the same IDs and rights as other displaced persons (DP), Baltic citizens would have to turn in their passports to the German authorities. In response to this edict, the AA emphatically reminded the Federal Interior Ministry that, given the de jure continued existence of the Baltic states under occupatio bellica, Baltic citizens held a special status. They should hence be able to keep as a piece of identiﬁcation their valid Baltic passports, which entitled them to the same rights as any other DPs who were to get new IDs. The AA recommended that the Federal Interior Ministry make sure the conduct of local/regional authorities reﬂected Federal government policies.47 An edict of the Federal Ministry of Interior of 29 April 1954 then conﬁrmed the implementation of this recommendation. Given West Germany’s recognition of Baltic passports as a valid means of identiﬁcation, some AA ofﬁcials (especially the seemingly pro-Baltic Messrs Bräutigam as AA Ministrerialdirigent and Meissner as AA Legationsrat erster Klasse) pointed to the legitimate and practical need for a Baltic passport bureau in the FRG. Thus far Baltic citizens in Germany had been required to apply to their respective legations in London in order to obtain a new passport or to an extension of their existing one. Based on such considerations, an intra-ministerial discussion was initiated in July 1954.48 Developments that occurred within the Lithuanian VLIK in the meantime were to have a signiﬁcant inﬂuence on the German authorities’ eventual rejection of requests for Baltic consulates and/or passport bureaux. On 26 March 1954 VLIK appointed Karvelis as the ‘Delegate of the Highest Committee at the Federal Government’. In this capacity, he claimed to represent ‘until further notice the Lithuanian Republic fully and wholly’.49 This proclamation obviously challenged the authority of Lozoraitis (Snr), whose appointees (as heads of legations, chargé d’affaires, consul generals or consuls, etc.) were recognised as the ofﬁcial representatives of the Lithuanian state in the USA, United Kingdom and elsewhere.50 The AA held that Lozoraitis (Snr) had been informed earlier in the year via the Federal Republic’s embassy in Rome of the enactment of 20 February 1954, which underlined that ‘the current political situation did not allow the setting up of a Lithuanian diplomatic representation’ in Germany. This still stood at the time of VLIK’s foreign political offensive, making redundant Lozoraitis’ more recently expressed worries about losing his political authority in the face of Karvelis’ actions unless he appointed a Lithuanian diplomat to West Germany. Moreover, it was

West Germany and the Baltic question 109 pointed out that Karvelis’ claim to fully represent the Lithuanian state was totally contrary to Bonn’s view as per the February edict.51 In this vein, when VLIK’s one-sided appointment was publicised as a de facto Lithuanian representation to the Federal German government by the Lithuanian press agency ETLA on 15 May, AA ofﬁcials immediately issued a denial. Bonn emphasised that it did not recognise any exile governments and had no diplomatic relations with any of the three Baltic states. References to Bonn’s ‘administrative practice’ were intended to forestall political conclusions being drawn, as might have been the case if the continued existence of the Baltic states was emphasised.52 Karvelis visited the AA two days after the ETLA announcement, when German ofﬁcials made clear that the German government’s position on Baltic diplomatic representation remained unchanged, and that the question of Baltic passport bureaux was still undecided. With reference to technical concerns, Bonn stressed its determination that Baltic citizens would not in future be disadvantaged in relation to other DPs in West Germany who had special identiﬁcation in that regard. Moreover, it was pointed out that the intra-Lithuanian tensions between VLIK and the existing Lithuanian diplomatic corps had to be resolved, so that in the event of a passport bureau being set up there would be no conﬂict over appointments. Bonn reiterated that it was willing to support Karvelis in looking after Lithuanians’ interests in the FRG, just as it was happy to welcome any other legitimate Lithuanian representative to the AA.53 As Meissner has observed, however, the reluctance to engage formally and publicly with the Baltic question was occasioned not just by intra-Baltic rivalries over legitimacy of representation, but also by the political sensitivities of the young Federal Republic.54 The West Germany founded on 23 May 1949 was a provisional entity. It considered itself the only legitimate German state (Alleinvertretungsanspruch) – a view which was reﬂected in the Three Power Declaration of September 1950. The symbol of this provisional state – the ‘Basic Law’ (not ‘Constitution’) – enunciated the injunction for a re-uniﬁcation policy: to achieve unity and freedom of Germany in free selfdetermination. Uniﬁcation in legal terms meant unifying German territories within the borders of 1937, as had been deﬁned in the London Protocol of 12 September 1944; in practice, however, the postwar plans for uniﬁcation understood the term Gesamtdeutschland (Germany as a whole) as referring only to the FRG, GDR and Berlin. Legally, the question of the Eastern territories remained to be resolved at a future peace conference between the Allies and Germany, as had been agreed by the signatories of the Final Protocol of the Potsdam Conference (17 July–2 August 1945).55 In the Cold War context of the early 1950s, the Adenauer government took a particularly hostile view of the Soviet Union, communism and the East German regime. Insisting that re-uniﬁcation would not be pursued at the expense of freedom, it embarked on the path of integrating the FRG with the West. In this politico-ideological context, the absence of any

110 K. Spohr Readman constructive Ostpolitik, or positive engagement with the East, under Adenauer is hardly surprising. In as much as this was Adenauer’s policy, there was also a strong sense that a semi-sovereign Bonn had to act in line with the policies of the Western victor powers. With the German uniﬁcation question open, Bonn was anxious not to create any additional tension in East–West relations, or to provoke the USSR by giving the impression that it was launching an Eastern policy in relation to Soviet territories (including the Baltic states).56 A visible stance on the Baltic states – whether in the form of a public announcement of non-recognition policy, or the establishment of relations with Baltic diplomats or ‘exile governments’ on German soil – was perceived as dangerous, not least in view of the unresolved issue of German uniﬁcation.57 Ironically, even if the Germans seemed to be in a better position than the Balts, their fates were entwined, as both had legally unresolved claims on territory that was de facto under the direct or indirect control of Moscow. In the context of 1954, when Adenauer began to contemplate the establishment of diplomatic relations with the USSR on humanitarian and political grounds, Bonn’s reservations concerning possible Baltic consulates and passport bureau were very much informed by a desire not to upset Moscow. Indeed, if moves towards German–Soviet rapprochement were not mentioned directly, allusions to ‘the current political situation’ were made in discussions or correspondence with Baltic nationals when excusing the postponement of an ofﬁcial decision on the issue of ofﬁcial Baltic representation.58 Purely legalistic considerations therefore did not play the crucial role in Bonn’s approach to Baltic issues. An AA internal memorandum prepared by Boris Meissner in April 1954 shows that the juridical situation was not seen as precluding the establishment of passport bureaux or even diplomatic or consular missions at a later point in time. In fact, reference was made to the Büro für heimatlose Ausländer, which saw the establishment of such bureaux as a way of publicly demonstrating the non-recognition policies of the FRG improving relations with Baltic émigrés. Rather, it was a combination of political factors that forced Germany to be reticent and quiescent to the ‘Baltic question’. Meissner thus wrote that: On the one hand, until the Soviet government takes a clear position on the German question, the burdening of relations with the USSR by addressing the Baltic case has to be avoided. On the other hand, the Federal government’s measures regarding the Baltics must not be allowed to be interpreted as favouring a speciﬁc exile group. The latter point was made primarily in relation to the Lithuanians [i.e. the VLIK with its bold leader Karvelis and the Lithuanian diplomatic

West Germany and the Baltic question 111 service headed by Lozoraitis (who had only just appointed Gerutis as his representative in Germany)].59 As Meissner’s paper reveals, however, ‘the political meaning of the Baltic question for Germany’ was still more complex. While an overly pro-Baltic stance was considered problematic as far as rebuilding German–Soviet relations was concerned, the Baltic question could also be used as a means to a German end: namely as a way of exerting pressure on the USSR regarding the German question. Given the Soviets’ intransigence over the German issue, Meissner wondered ‘whether it was not the right time to use the Baltic card tactically’. The idea was ‘to signal to the Soviets that German recognition of the Soviet sphere of interest in Eastern Europe would only be granted if the Soviets were more forthcoming on the question of the Oder and Neisse territories’.60 Meisnner did not touch upon the possible consequences of a potential Soviet–German quid pro quo for the Baltic states’ de jure claim of continued existence. Even if there was a desire to emphasise the importance of international law in relation to both the German and the Baltic questions, politico-tactical considerations also came into play. These effectively meant putting West German (and Soviet) national interests ahead of those of the Baltic peoples. This is somewhat surprising given the tendency by Meissner and other German Balts working in the Federal Foreign Ofﬁce to be amenable on Baltic issues.61 Apart from using the ‘Baltic card’ in German Moskaupolitik, the paper also suggested that it be employed as a way of strengthening Bonn’s claim over territories on the German Baltic Sea coast, especially East Prussia, and to gain the support of the Western powers for such a claim. Meissner believed that spring/summer 1954 offered a good moment for such a political offensive by West Germany.62 With the Kersten select committee of the US House of Representatives having begun its investigation in November 1953 of the seizure and forced incorporation of the three states, the Baltic issue was particularly prominent in the public eye. Indeed, US secretary of state John Foster Dulles, as a witness of the Kersten committee, made clear that the USA would not horse-trade with the USSR and buy ‘illusory safety’ through negotiations on peaceful coexistence, a step that would actually worsen the subjugation of the Soviet satellites. There was a strong sense that Soviet rhetoric could not be trusted. Instead, Dulles emphasised the importance of staying true to the Atlantic Charter and its proclamation of ‘the right of all peoples to choose the government under which they will live’.63 Signiﬁcantly, this US rhetoric was applicable to both the Baltic and German questions alike, and Bonn used precisely this language whenever it put forward its uniﬁcation plight. Germany was very aware that legal, principled political rhetoric gave German and Baltic concerns the same status on the international platform. Bonn’s priority, however, was the resolution of the German

112 K. Spohr Readman question, whereas the Baltic case was merely a useful tool and point of reference in its pursuit of these Deutschlandpolitik interests. Meissner thus argued that ‘if political connections in the Baltic Sea region were made clearer, US interest could probably be awakened in North-Eastern German territorial questions by way of the Baltic question’.64 Yet there was in this Germano-centric thinking also potential beneﬁt for the Baltic peoples. If the passport bureaux promoted by the Büro für heimatvertriebene Ausländer were created quickly, they might serve as an additional incentive for the USSR to seek more intensively the establishment of diplomatic relations with the FRG – while at the same time the heimatloser Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians in Germany would be helped.65 After the aforementioned publication of the passport edict of 29 April 1954, the consulate and passport bureau issue resurfaced strongly in Baltic calls on German ofﬁcialdom during the summer. Although the AA had considerable interest in keeping good relations with the Baltic émigrés and their organisations, the old worry prevailed that accrediting an ofﬁcial representation would entail a choice between representatives of the different exile groups, even exile governments. Bonn did not want to ‘pull the hostility of the competing groups unto itself’, especially after the Karvelis incident. There was also the consideration that no other Western government, even where there existed missions staffed by members of the former Baltic diplomatic corps, had recognised any of the self-proclaimed exile governments.66 In the summer and autumn of 1954, there was renewed contact between the US High Commission and the AA over the issue of German–Baltic relations. Bonn explained that it saw no need to create Baltic consulates, for the following reasons: the Baltic peoples were well cared for by their societies; passport issues were dealt with by the missions in London, Washington or New York; the opening of Baltic consulates would cause problems for German–Soviet relations; and the Lozoraitis– VLIK feud over competences was still an ongoing distraction. The Americans for their part maintained that Washington had no particular interest in an intensiﬁcation of relations between the Federal government and the Balts, and that they considered Karvelis to be a private person while recognising Lozoraitis as the head of Lithuania’s consular and diplomatic service.67 Against this background, an inter-departmental AA meeting of September 1954 concluded that Bonn should continue to refrain from legally recognising Soviet annexation of the Baltic states. Baltic representatives, however, were informed that the situation was not suitable for the establishment of consulates and passport bureaux, albeit with a simultaneous assurance that Baltic citizens would in future be granted the same security in the Federal Republic as citizens of states with which Germany conducted diplomatic relations.68

West Germany and the Baltic question 113 Crucially, the issue of diplomatic representation – of whatever sort – seemed to die down after 1954. Meanwhile, at grass roots level German–Baltic societies were founded, as a non-political means of fostering cultural relations between the Baltic peoples and the Germans.69 In this vein, the last two months of 1954 saw the creation of the Estnisch– Deutsche Gesellschaft, the Deutsch–Lettische Gesellschaft and the Deutsch– Litauische Gesellschaft, eventually joined together under the umbrella of the Baltische Gesellschaft.70

Bonn, Moscow and the Baltic question, 1955–1961 The year 1955 was crucial for the Adenauer government and also a landmark for Bonn’s Baltic policies. The chancellor succeeded in anchoring the Federal Republic in the West by joining NATO and the Western European Union (WEU), while 5 May 1955 saw the entry into force of the Deutschlandvertrag, which made West Germany sovereign except for the Allied reserved rights. The occupation statute ended and the Allied High Commission was dissolved. In this context, Adenauer was obviously reconsidering his uniﬁcation policies and uncompromising Westpolitik. Uniﬁcation remained unachieved and the Politik der Stärke was a failure. Rather than moving closer to uniﬁcation, the rift between the two German states, as well as between West and East in general, had deepened. Moreover, Adenauer became increasingly convinced that the Four Powers had started to accept the status quo in Europe. He feared the possible disengagement of the USA from Europe and a bilateral US–Soviet accord on Germany over the heads of Germans, as Washington sought for peaceful coexistence with the Soviet Union. Yet there were also humanitarian issues such as the fate of German prisoners of war (POWs) in the USSR to contemplate. It was against this rather complex domestic and international background that Adenauer embarked on rapprochement with the Kremlin.71 Taking up the Soviet invitation of 7 June 1955, Adenauer visited Moscow between 8 and 14 September of that year, and engaged in tough negotiations on the ‘normalisation’ of West German–Soviet relations. The key issue on the agenda was the re-establishment of diplomatic relations between the two countries, the other two points concerning economic and cultural relations. As regards diplomatic relations, the following unresolved political questions were identiﬁed in a secret AA note prepared by Meissner: German civilian prisoners and POWs; the GDR and territorial issues connected with North-East Prussia, Memelland, the Baltic states and the Oder–Neisse line. This list of issues revealed how the Baltic question was entangled with Germany’s own unresolved territorial claims as part of the Deutschlandfrage. The Federal government authorities were adamant that they wanted neither to create extra difﬁculty for resolving the resolution of German uniﬁcation question, nor to endanger the settlement of the issue

114 K. Spohr Readman of German POWs and expellees by publicly discussing the ‘Baltic question’. Yet, despite or perhaps because of Germany’s own complex postwar status and recent history, Bonn was determined to strictly adhere to its de jure position of non-recognition of Baltic annexation, just as it held onto its principled position regarding German interests.72 To this end, on 14 September 1955 Moscow was passed the so-called Vorbehaltsschreiben, in which West Germany reserved its position as follows: ‘The establishment of diplomatic relations between the governments of West Germany and of the USSR [does] not represent any recognition of each other’s current territorial ownership’,73 nor does it affect the FRG’s right to sole representation. This letter of reservation was crucial, because Moscow’s main political aim at the time appeared to be to secure de jure recognition for its territorial possessions in Eastern Europe. Indeed, the real nature of the Kremlin’s intentions had already become clear on 26 July 1955 during Khrushchev’s visit to East Berlin, when the Soviet leader had bluntly declared that the two-state theory was the nucleus of Soviet Deutschlandpolitik. This position was reiterated just a week after Adenauer’s Moscow visit, when the USSR signed a treaty giving the GDR sovereignty over decisions regarding its domestic and foreign policy, including its relations with West Germany.74 Yet Bonn’s Vorbehaltsschreiben was also a signiﬁcant landmark as far as West Germany’s Baltic policies were concerned. It had been produced taking the Baltic situation and related concerns into account, and was the ﬁrst ofﬁcial and public German political document that implicitly publicised Bonn’s non-recognition policy. The German–Soviet/West–East honeymoon of ‘diplomatic rapprochement’ proved short-lived. In response to the declaration of the two-state theory by the USSR and GDR, Bonn introduced the Hallstein-Doktrin – the foreign political instrument of West Germany’s Alleinvertretungsanspruch.75 Although Adenauer is known to have made secret moves towards a less rigid Ost- and Deutschlandpolitik, the only publicly visible movement in West German–Soviet relations occurred on the issues of economic and technological trade and repatriation of Soviet and German citizens (Repatriation Agreement of 8 April 1958). Repatriation was very much part of Adenauer’s humanitarian concerns for German citizens and Volksdeutsche within the USSR, and followed from the German–Soviet Agreement on POWs. Here, the Baltic states played a role in Germany’s calculations in so far as the Repatriation Agreement affected among others (such as Germans in Bessarabia, Northern Bukovina, etc.) German Balts and Germans living in the Baltic area.76 The repatriation issue revealed the historical problem of Germans as a culture-nation extending beyond the boundaries of a uniﬁed German nation-state, as well as the devastating consequences of Hitler’s bellicose Eastern policies which included the distinctive facet of re-settlement. Consequently, despite the massive postwar expulsion of ‘German’ nationals from Eastern territories, many remained scattered in what after 1945

West Germany and the Baltic question 115 became the Soviet Union and the Soviet bloc – a situation worsened of course by the division of what could be termed ‘rump-Germany’ into East and West Germany. The Soviet–German repatriation question undoubtedly added another layer of complexity to the story of West German– Baltic relations, as in this particular case it was an indirect reminder of Germany’s complicity with the USSR over the fate of the Baltic states. With the Kremlin suggesting that repatriation be completed by 1959, Adenauer was keen to see this accomplished smoothly. Yet, as could have been expected, Soviet bureaucracy made life difﬁcult for those wanting to leave the country.77 Among other psychological and physical pressures, exit was promoted to East Germany rather than to the FRG. Signiﬁcantly, the USSR in Bonn’s eyes did not fulﬁl the Agreement by 1960, and indeed by 1970, the AA estimated that 7,784 Germans still had not been allowed to leave the USSR under the Repatriation Agreement.78 As for the repatriation of Soviet citizens from West Germany to the USSR, Moscow was particularly active in using the issue as a politicoideological tool against the West, a tool which emphasised its view on territory and citizenship. As far as Baltic refugees in West Germany were concerned, this was probably seen as a means of intimidating Baltic nationals and challenging the position of continued existence under occupatio bellica to which most Western governments adhered in relation to the Baltic states. On 13 September 1955, Soviet Prime Minister Bulganin had announced that 101,000 Soviet citizens – a figure which was believed to include Baltic émigrés – were held back in West Germany against their will. AA official von Staden (by origin also a German Balt), who analysed Soviet policy, emphasised that this negative propaganda had to be interpreted in the context of the recent Soviet–Yugoslavian statement of 2 June 1955. Here, it was claimed that both sides allowed mutual consular protection to their citizens. Translated to the German situation, it had to be expected that Moscow wanted to offer consular protection to Soviet citizens in West Germany, which in Soviet eyes included Baltic citizens. The Soviet rhetoric on ‘unwillingly held Soviet citizens’ made many Baltic nationals fear that the Bonn government would give in to Soviet pressure and repatriate them to the USSR. The worry was that Moscow would make émigré repatriation a quid pro quo for the actual return of German POWs from the USSR. However, Bonn emphasised that it could not be blackmailed over the POW issue, and that no Eastern refugee would be repatriated by force, not least because such action would violate West Germany’s Basic Law.79 In the meantime, August 1955 saw a burst of applications for accreditation of Lithuanian and Estonian diplomatic representatives in the FRG. The political reasoning against such an accreditation now also included a necessity to ‘show consideration for the new nature of Soviet–German relations post-September 1955’ and the problem of Soviet propaganda. In

116 K. Spohr Readman his memo, von Staden emphasised that the creation of consulates would make Germany’s defence of its legal standpoint on the rights of Baltic nationals more difﬁcult vis-à-vis the Soviet Union. Since Balts held DP status in Germany, they were effectively not in need of consular protection (neither Soviet nor Baltic) – hence, the objection to consulates. Interestingly, von Staden re-ﬂoated the idea of opening of passport bureaux for Baltic citizens in Germany, this time suggesting that they be run by representatives of the Baltic London legations in the name of said diplomatic representations with the Federal government’s permission. In the end, nothing came of this and the issue of passport bureaux disappeared again.80 As the years went on, questions turned to the practical problems of naturalisation and the subsequent loss of native passports. Many Baltic émigrés chose naturalisation, not least to avoid the complications in international travel which Baltic travel documents entailed. Yet, giving up native passports was a tricky issue, because opting for naturalisation of course weakened the Balts’ case as defenders of the continuity of their states. The mid-to-late 1950s were generally marked by the Balts’ dissatisfaction with Bonn’s Eastern and Baltic policies. In the wake of the Hungarian crisis, this was part of a wider impression of a weak and passive West allowing the Kremlin too much leverage. As to the Adenauer government’s policies, most criticism focused on the Hallstein-Doktrin – seen as utterly unconstructive. Indeed, at a meeting of the Baltischer Rat (Baltic Council, the amalgamation of representatives of the Baltic states in West Germany) Karl Selter criticised the AA for not having developed a clear concept of Eastern policy: if Adenauer’s rigid Westpolitik was hampering Germany’s re-uniﬁcation, then it was also preventing the Baltic question from being resolved.81 Whereas in the immediate postwar years the Balts had favoured a tough Soviet policy, they were now interested in Bonn’s engagement with the Soviets, a view which placed them fundamentally at odds with the German LMs.82 The domestic policies of the Adenauer government towards Baltic émigrés were also characterised as rigid, unhelpful and even unjust. Especially criticised was the failure to deal with: the claims of Estonian and Latvian ship owners whose vessels had been conﬁscated by Nazi Germany in the Second World War; the pension claims of former Baltic ofﬁcers; the issue of compensation for horrors endured in Nazi concentration camps; the harmonisation of administrative practice and of law in the Länder according to federal non-recognition policies of Baltic incorporation in the USSR and, last but not least, the problems relating to the ownership of former Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian embassies or their land in West Berlin.83 Rather than touching upon practical issues relating to the aforementioned property, much of the early AA correspondence focused on clarifying questions of competence. The West Berlin land register stated that the embassies remained the property of Estonia, Latvia and Lithua-

West Germany and the Baltic question 117 nia. In practical terms, however, they were administered under the auspices of the Allied Control Council, according to the laws of the individual Allied Power. Enquiries regarding the sale of real estate therefore always had to go through Allied authorities ﬁrst. Only in the second instance would this become a matter for (what after 1961 was) West Berlin’s legislature. In the end, Latvia’s real estate was sold in the late 1980s, while that of Lithuania and Estonia was returned to the governments of the reestablished independent states in 1991.84 Bonn’s position regarding the international aspects of the Baltic problem did not change under Adenauer, and there was consequently no diplomatic activity on this front. West Germany simply stuck religiously but silently to its de jure non-recognition policy. As much as the HallsteinDoctrine played its part in this passive and quiescent political approach towards the Baltic question, there were also no new political initiatives coming from abroad that would have dictated a more positive and proactive approach. The Assembly of Captive Nations which met in September 1956 in New York was considered too bold in its use of language when stating the need to ‘free peoples’ from Soviet subjugation. Indeed, the Council of Europe accused the Assembly of being a burden for the already weakened interest in Western European unity.85 As the decade drew to a close, however, the Baltic question was suddenly thrust back into the international spotlight. In late 1958, Lithuania’s representative at the Vatican Stasys Girdvainis was downgraded in status from envoyé to gérant des affaires following the enthronement of Pope John XXIII. The Lithuanians were deeply disappointed and pleaded with the Pope for revocation of the decision.86 Interestingly, it was this sudden and surprising move that prompted the AA to reconsider its Baltic policy. A circular was issued to all West German foreign missions requesting them to report on the current practice of their host countries towards the Baltic problem. Bonn was evidently interested in analysing and re-evaluating its own German–Baltic relations in the light of other states’ ‘diplomatic’ practices.87 The original ﬁndings of 1960 were followed up by the AA in March 1961 when a new Brazilian government announced the closure of the Baltic diplomatic representations – a step undertaken, as the AA pointed out, because Brazil was seeking a foreign political reorientation which included entering into diplomatic relations with the communist regimes of the Eastern bloc states.88 Brazil’s turn towards the East, and the consequent end to ‘ofﬁcial Brazilian–Baltic relations’, also posed a challenge to Bonn’s Hallstein-Doktrin, which was beginning to look increasingly out of touch, given the political realignment in international relations by a number of states. The question was also reactivated by a request from the Baltische Gesellschaft for a meeting with the West German foreign minister in the run up to the Four Power foreign ministers conference on Germany and the Berlin question, scheduled to take place in summer 1959 in Geneva.

118 K. Spohr Readman The Baltische Gesellschaft wanted to present a memorandum on the Baltic states’ juridical status to the Minister, as Baltic representatives had succeeded in doing in the USA when they met with Secretary of State Herter in mid April. All the Balts intended through this step was to raise public awareness of their fate, so that the injustice they had suffered at the hands of the Soviet Union would not be forgotten.90 Referring to the fact that Washington conducted ofﬁcial relations with Baltic diplomatic representatives in the USA while Bonn maintained its quiescent Baltic policy, the AA Ostabteilung warned against such an ofﬁcial meeting. Instead, the Baltische Gesellschaft was informed verbally via an intermediary that ofﬁcials from the Ostabteilung were willing to meet with Baltic representatives on an informal and non-ofﬁcial basis. West German authorities were also put on the spot by a query from the Baltische Gesellschaft as to whether the Baltic ﬂags could be hoisted together with that of the Federal Republic at the ‘Baltic Week’ event they were planning to hold in Bad Oeynhausen from 17–23 September 1960. Deeply aware of the symbolism of ﬂags (Bonn did not allow for the East German ﬂag to be hoisted), the AA immediately consulted with its British, French, Dutch and Belgian counterparts on the matter. Whereas London maintained that any ﬂag could be hoisted together with the British one as long as this did not cause civil disorder, the Quai d’Orsay explained that France strictly objected to a step which it feared might provoke Moscow. Moreover, Paris highlighted its strict adherence to the policy of not hoisting the ﬂag of the GDR.91 The Auswärtige Amt’s own internal rationale for forbidding the display of Baltic ﬂags was consistent with the majority of foreign views. Bonn was anxious to avoid any symbolic identiﬁcation of its policies with the political goals and interests of the Baltic ‘exile governments’, and, in view of the looming Berlin crisis, it was especially important to avoid any escalation of tension. The ﬂying of the ﬂags would have indicated a shift from a passive, legalistic approach towards a more actively political one. Such a step could not be justiﬁed as a reaction to new Soviet measures, and would instead be portrayed by the Kremlin as an unfriendly (pro-active) move. The same reservations were also deemed to apply to the display of Baltic ﬂags alone. Given that Bonn did not allow the ﬂying of the ﬂag of the socalled Soviet zone, the showing of Baltic ﬂags did not seem any more justiﬁed. None of this detailed reasoning was passed on to the Baltische Gesellschaft in the rejection of its request. Instead, reference was made only to the ‘current political situation’ that did not allow the showing of ﬂags. As on other occasions, the response was delivered verbally, as was explicitly speciﬁed in AA papers.92 Bonn’s non-compromising Ostpolitik as well as the tense international situation over the German question in the context of the Berlin crisis obviously shaped the AA’s responses on Baltic matters and the continuation of a purely passive and legalistically oriented Baltic policy. In fact, in view of

West Germany and the Baltic question 119 its own aim of re-uniﬁcation, Bonn understood the international circumstances well enough to realise that any short-term solution was slipping away. After the building of the Berlin wall and the Four Powers’ lack of interest in German uniﬁcation, it was clear to the Adenauer government that the issue was off the international agenda. Bonn’s Deutschlandpolitik was now merely concerned with keeping the German question juridically open, rather than conducting operative unification policies. In this vein, the FRG was particularly keen to go with the growing emphasis in Western political language on universal norms and values. For the German cause, the UN declaration of 14 December 1960 which emphasised the ‘principles of equal rights and selfdetermination of all peoples, and of universal respect and observance of human rights and fundamental freedoms of all’ became a cornerstone of its Deutschlandpolitik. It is in this context that West Germany’s support for the Council of Europe (CoE) resolution (189) ‘on the situation in the Baltic states on the twentieth anniversary of their forced incorporation into the Soviet Union’ has to be seen. Indeed, the West German government was interested in a positive treatment of the draft resolution that was to be adopted on 29 September 1960. The AA felt that the USA had been telling the Germans off for taking for granted support of the free world for the East Germans’ plight, while not putting in any effort as regards the humanitarian needs of the Baltic peoples. Supporting the resolution was seen as a chance to counter such US opinion. Yet, with an eye to the politico-moral effect that the resolution would have on Moscow, Bonn was adamant that all facts in the resolution had to be absolutely objective. Based on its study of foreign nations’ Baltic policies in 1960 (see Table 9.2), Bonn concluded that only around 11 – not the ‘great’ majority of nations of the free world as the resolution stated – adhered ﬁrmly to de jure non-recognition policies. While this was to be pointed out to the CoE assembly, AA papers made clear that Bonn’s representative had to be seen to be taking a low-key Baltic approach in public for fear of upsetting Moscow, as well as on account of Germany’s historic complicity in bringing about the current situation of the Baltic states. The rather instrumental view of West Germany’s proBaltic policy on the resolution comes crucially to light in the AA documents. It was argued that moral support for the Baltic peoples’ cause could have a positive effect on West Germany’s own demands regarding the human rights of East Germans.93 Considerations of Realpolitik in Bonn’s Moskau- and Deutschlandpolitik were evidently competing with the West’s turn towards principled policies based on universal norms. Despite publicly using this universally applicable legalistic language for the German, Baltic and other causes, in practice West Germany was clearly not conducting a foreign policy free of ‘national interests’. For Bonn the German problem – the uniﬁcation issue – always came ahead of the issue of non-recognition policies of Baltic

120 K. Spohr Readman Table 9.2 International recognition policies regarding the Baltic States, 19601 De jure non-recognition of Baltic annexation into the USSR

Incorporation de jure recognised

USAa, Uruguaya, Brazila, Vaticana, Spainb Bolivia, Japan, Sweden, Luxemburg(NOR), Ireland(NOR), Iceland(NOR), Iran(NOR), Austriaf, Argentinaf South African Union (NOR) UKb(NFD), Franceb(NFD), Canadab(NFD), Australiab(NFD), Cubac(NFD), Columbiac(NFD), Mexicoc(NFD), Denmarkc(NFD) Switzerlandcg(NFD), West Germanyd(NFD) Belgium(NFD, NOR), Netherlandse(NFD, NOR) Norway (NFD, NOR), Finland(NFD, NOR), Greece(NFD, NOR), Turkey(NFD, NOR), Afghanistan(NFD, NOR), Ethiopia(NFD, NOR), New Zealand(NFD, NOR) Source: adapted from a survey by the AA, B12/Bd. 452, ‘Aufzeichnung’ (8.8.1960). Notes a Ofﬁcial relations b Semi-ofﬁcial relations c Some remnants of relations d Recognition of Baltic passports e Grants members of the Baltic exile government in London ‘visa de courtoisie’ f Implicit de jure recognition: Baltic passports not recognised g Qualiﬁcation: Baltic assets managed in ﬁduciary form by Switzerland NOR No ofﬁcial relations NFD No ﬁnal decision on nature of non-recognition policy States that did not have diplomatic relations with either the USSR or the Baltic states: Portugal*, Chile, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic*, Ecuador, Nicaragua*, Paraguay*, Peru, Venezuela, Liberia, Taiwan (*states would not recognize annexation due to their anticommunist position)

annexation by the USSR. The Baltic issue was rather treated as a tool in the Federal Republic’s Deutschlandpolitik.94

Neue Ostpolitik, Helsinki, human rights and the end of the Cold War With the Adenauer era and the postwar phase coming to an end, the 1960s was a decade of transition during which West Germany readjusted its Ost- and Deutschlandpolitik to the new post-wall and post-Cuba international realities of the Cold War.95 Bonn’s Baltic policy during the 1960s was stagnant. The report of a visit to the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic (SSR) by an unnamed West German embassy ofﬁcial from Moscow in 1963 underscored Bonn’s extreme caution regarding the Baltic problem. Moscow’s Russiﬁcation efforts in the Baltic were critically noted in the face of what was described as deeply rooted national consciousness by native Estonians. But it was felt that all Bonn could do by way of support was to intensify contacts between West Germans and Estonians through increased West German travel to the Baltic,96 something German Balts were likely to be keen on.

West Germany and the Baltic question 121 The two Baltic issues that received greatest political attention from the West German authorities were ongoing court cases in West Berlin regarding the property of the former Baltic legations and Britain’s handling of the Baltic gold problem in its negotiations with Moscow over claims and counter-claims for compensation between the countries arising after 1 January 1939. The latter was seen in the Auswärtige Amt not only as an indicator of British–Soviet relations but also as an indicator of the actual state of the United Kingdom’s political line on the Baltic question. Bonn furthermore had a more direct interest in these negotiations with a view to potential British claims in the northern area of East Prussia. Yet no British claims fell into this region and hence, to the German authorities’ great relief, the issue of sovereignty did not arise. Although London had already initiated negotiations with the Soviets in 1956,97 these only began in earnest in 1965. The talks initially stalled due to London’s stubborn determination to hold onto Baltic gold assets stored in the Bank of England, as well as its de jure non-recognition policies on Baltic annexation. By 1967, however, Downing Street had come round to the idea of selling the gold to pay British creditors of Baltic assets. The agreement reached with Moscow on 13 February 1967 stipulated inter alia that the USSR would not pursue its claims to former Baltic assets held in the United Kingdom, and that Britain would make a payment of £500,000 to the USSR in the form of British manufactured goods. However, despite the selling off of Baltic gold and de facto recognition of Baltic incorporation into the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom did not waver on its juridical standpoint on the Baltic question, and Baltic diplomats in London were to keep their diplomatic courtesies ad persona.98 Britain’s unchanged position on the Baltic question – in the face of London’s cautious approach to normalise relations with Moscow – also encouraged the West German authorities to abstain from amending their own Baltic policy. It was only with the onset of Chancellor Willy Brandt’s Neue Ostpolitik in 1969 that the Baltic issue reappeared visibly and forcefully on West Germany’s foreign policy agenda. As Bonn entered into negotiations to conclude its Eastern Treaties (with Poland, Czechoslovakia and, crucially, the USSR and East Germany), there were great fears among the Baltic exile communities and German Balts that a German–Soviet Treaty on the normalisation of relations and the non-violation of the territorial status quo would imply Bonn’s de jure recognition of the Baltic states’ incorporation in the USSR. Letters from a number of Baltic individuals (who considered themselves as being in some way representative of their peoples) arrived at the AA. Bonn’s policy was to send low-key (below ministerial level) replies to avoid any disruption of its Ostpolitik offensive. Responses tended to refer to Bonn’s ‘well-known juridical position on the matter’ without offering any wider or more detailed explanations, since anything

122 K. Spohr Readman that could be interpreted as a change in position or an ofﬁcial declaration had to be avoided.99 Based on the consensus that the government should retain its de jure non-recognition policy, internal documents discussing the presentation of the Baltic states on maps and country lists in new AA publications at the time of the Eastern Treaty negotiations came to the conclusion that it was in Bonn’s best interest to stick with its policy to date and continue listing the Baltic states as ‘Estonia’, ‘Latvia’ and ‘Lithuania’.100 Signiﬁcantly, the Baltic question was not touched upon in German– Soviet Treaty negotiations (perhaps because the Soviets did not even consider it an open question, and Bonn focused on its own Deutschlandpolitik priorities). When the Moscow Treaty was signed on 12 August 1970, emphasis lay on the ‘inviolability of borders’ and mutual ‘renunciation of the use of force’. Bonn nevertheless upheld its legal position that German borders (and hence also the borders of the Baltic states) were not conclusively ﬁxed. Indeed, the Moscow Treaty, like the other Eastern Treaties, were seen by Bonn as treaties of a modus vivendi. From Bonn’s perspective, the Baltic case could only be argued on the basis of the Vorbehaltsschreiben of 1955, as well as the reference made in the preamble to the Moscow Treaty, which referred to observing the principles and aims of the UN charter, one of which is the right to selfdetermination. While the AA emphasised that Germany adhered to the above views, at the same time it was considered unwise to make this any more of an issue and cause controversy with the Soviets.101 Still, this question of interpretation appeared at the core of MP von Fircks’ query during Bundestag question time on 9 October 1970, in response to which federal foreign minister Walter Scheel stated: ‘No Federal government has made a declaration that included recognition of the Baltic states’ incorporation [into the USSR]. The signing of the German–Soviet Treaty has not changed anything.’102 Apart from the treaties and the normalisation of East–West relations, there was more to Ostpolitik. The new initiative of ‘freer movement’ or ‘contact policy’ promoted among other things Baltic–West German contacts of a purely humanitarian nature. While the AA continued to emphasise that West German persons in ofﬁcial positions should avoid any contacts with ofﬁcials from the Baltic SSRs, it was quietly supportive of intensifying exchanges between journalists, students and researchers as well as the distribution of Western literature, as suggested by German Balt Wolf von Kleist of the Baltische Briefe (a periodical of the Deutsch–Baltische Landsmannschaft). Von Kleist incidentally had received such a request from the Latvian president of the ‘Committee for Cultural Relations with Foreign Countries’ in June 1972, in other words an ofﬁcial ﬁgure. So great was the interest of the AA in quietly promoting human contacts across the East–West divide, it even informed von Kleist in strict conﬁdence of the opening of a West German general consulate in Leningrad

West Germany and the Baltic question 123 (that was to take place in autumn 1972). It was suggested that the consulate could be used as a means to assist new Baltic–German contacts. Signiﬁcantly, the new consulate in Leningrad was also to be responsible for Riga and Tallinn. The Lithuanian capital Vilnius, however, remained under the responsibility of the German embassy in Moscow, primarily because the Memel Germans were to be dealt with in the same way as all other Rußlanddeutsche.103 The AA emphasised that the consulate was not responsible for the Estonian and Latvian SSRs – the distinction between responsibility for ports/cities and Republics was crucial in order not to violate Bonn’s juridical standpoint on the Baltic states’ continued de jure existence.104 The various facets of Brandt’s Ostpolitik that affected West German Baltic policies – recognition of inviolability of borders, the respect for human rights, closer economic and cultural contacts with the Eastern Bloc – were also integral to the agenda of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) (1972–1975), which bore great signiﬁcance for both the Germans and the Baltic peoples. Both parties emphasised the legal openness of their unresolved issues – uniﬁcation and independence respectively – and tied their claims to the universal concept of the people’s right to self-determination as well as the ‘peaceful change’ of borders clause, which were both incorporated into the Helsinki Final Act’s catalogue of principles.105 This Western insistence was crucial in order to safeguard the decadelong position of principle that did not recognise the incorporation of the Baltic states in the USSR (nor Germany’s division). Yet de facto recognition of the territorial status quo was undeniable. As German AA ofﬁcials had put it in 1973, while it was important not to forget historical injustice, history could not be rewritten at the CSCE. They were adamant that discussions on the Hitler–Stalin Pact and its consequences were not useful at the CSCE and ought to be avoided. After all, the CSCE was a multilateral meeting where bilateral issues had no place.106 The German authorities were evidently anxious to keep the historical burden of German–Soviet complicity in the background when they were looking to secure their own Deutschlandpolitik advantages in the CSCE process. The new big issue that emerged at the forefront of East–West diplomacy in Helsinki was human rights. As already revealed, Bonn was keen during the 1960s to promote a climate in which freedom of expression and the exercise of personal rights were possible – not least in view of the fate of East Germans. Yet the codiﬁcation of the issue of human rights in Helsinki and, one year later, the coming into force of the UN human rights convention,107 was of crucial signiﬁcance also for the Baltic peoples’ hopes of national survival and ultimate independence – especially after the crushing of a protest movement in Lithuania during 1972. As the AA had noted, free expression of religious beliefs and nationalism or rebellion against Moscow went hand in hand during the events of autumn 1972.108 Yet nobody was really sure of the signiﬁcance of human

124 K. Spohr Readman rights as a norm at the grass roots level, or of the long-term impact of their introduction into East–West diplomacy.109 In this vein, there was great uncertainty about their inﬂuence on societies within the Soviet bloc and Union in the future. Indeed, AA ofﬁcials wondered to what extent demonstrations by citizens – reﬂected in their most extreme and macabre form in the self-immolations that occurred in the Lithuanian SSR – were isolated and individual incidents, or part of a wider and ongoing process of societal ferment that was potentially weakening the Soviet regime from within. Despite some tentative AA speculation to this effect, no further thought seems to have been given to the future of the Baltic question and West German inﬂuence on it at this juncture.110 Why this was must remain an object of future research, when more archival material has become available. Perhaps Bonn’s focus on the German question meant that it was not sufﬁciently interested, or perhaps it simply did not see much of a chance of being able to inﬂuence events within the USSR (not least remembering the violent crushing of the Prague spring only a few years earlier in 1968). Still, human rights had entered the political language and were there to stay.111 Whatever the actual long- or short-term calculations and motives behind West Germany’s Ost- and Deutschlandpolitik, human contacts were intensiﬁed during the late 1970s and 1980s between the residents of the Baltic SSRs and West Germans. At the same time, the Federal government’s adherence to passively hanging onto its legalistic standpoint in its policy regarding the Baltic states remained unchanged. When, in 1990, the Eastern bloc and European Communism suddenly collapsed and the Baltic peoples declared their goal of separation from the USSR, Bonn was as stunned as other international observers. As East Germans poured into the West, Chancellor Kohl quickly began to focus on resolving the German question by pushing for rapid uniﬁcation between East and West Germany. In order to gain the support of the four victor powers – and of Moscow in particular – Kohl applied the language of ‘people’s right to self-determination’. The Cold War rhetoric had suddenly become the driving force and justiﬁcation for Kohl’s Deutschandpolitik, or should we now say uniﬁcation policies. Signiﬁcantly, however, Kohl took a very low-key approach towards the struggle of the Baltic peoples, despite the equal juridical legitimacy of their claims. Worse still, as he pressed for rapid German uniﬁcation after his political vindication by the East German elections in March 1990, the Baltic independence struggle was pushed aside, regardless of the fact that Lithuanians were at that time experiencing their worst tensions to date with Moscow. Germany’s national interests, which demanded good relations with a Kremlin determined to hold the Soviet Union together, had a higher priority than actively supporting the de jure legitimate Baltic struggle for independence. Realpolitik dominated Germany’s Ostpolitik in 1989–1990.

West Germany and the Baltic question 125 Still, in purely juridical terms Bonn remained true to its policy of nonrecognition. In the Treaty on Final Settlement (2+4 Treaty), Germany renounced all the territorial claims it had technically held open throughout the Cold War by agreeing to the Oder–Neisse line as its Eastern border. This, however, did not preclude other borders in Europe from being peacefully changed.112 Queries were made in this regard,113 especially in relation to article 2 of the November 1990 Soviet–German treaty on good neighbourliness, partnership and cooperation which stated that ‘territorial integrity of all states in Europe in today’s borders’ were to be unreservedly respected. Yet, here again, the Federal government emphasised its adherence to the position ﬁrst expressed in the letter of reservation of 1955, and subsequently conﬁrmed in the Moscow Treaty and the Helsinki Final Act, both of which had also been signed by Moscow. As they had on many previous occasions, the Federal authorities announced that the ‘FRG’s position regarding recognition of Baltic incorporation into the USSR ha[d] not changed’.114 This remained the case until August 1991, when the Baltic states managed to break free from a Union that stood on the verge of total collapse. It was only at this point that the government of a now uniﬁed Germany – in line with other Western governments – took the pro-active and public step of ofﬁcially re-establishing diplomatic relations with all three Baltic countries. The Baltic question had been resolved. Among the many open issues, not only were Baltic assets and property returned to their rightful owners, but German Balts were now able to take the opportunity to rebuild ties with their old homelands. Crucially, in contrast to, say, Silesians and Sudeten Germans, they have mostly abstained from demanding the return of their former property from the newly independent states – not least due to their different historical circumstances.115

Conclusions Throughout the Cold War, West German Baltic policies were tied to Bonn’s calculations of Ost- and Deutschlandpolitik. In this vein, the Bonn government never made a conclusive statement on the issue, but nor did it ever expressly recognise the annexation of the Baltic states by the USSR.116 In other words, Bonn stood by its practised de jure nonrecognition policy all along. In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, when the resolution of the German question seemed to still be in limbo and the Western victor powers were still visibly involved in ‘German’ affairs, the Baltic policies of the West German authorities were rather ad hoc and uncoordinated, and certainly very cautious. Only in the context of chancellor Adenauer’s Moscow visit in 1955, when German–Soviet diplomatic relations were re-established, did the Federal Republic implicitly but ofﬁcially

126 K. Spohr Readman make public its standpoint. The Soviet Union’s current territorial ownership was not recognised de jure. On no other ofﬁcial platform was this line of policy more expressly made public. Whether in the context of the Moscow Treaty in 1970, the Helsinki Final Act in 1975 or the 2+4 Treaty in 1990, reference was always made to the 1955 Vorbehaltsschreiben. Signiﬁcantly, even in foreign ministry correspondence Bonn’s de jure standpoint was rarely elaborated in detail. If the Federal Republic’s juridical position remained static, on a practical level Bonn’s approach to the Baltic question evolved over the decades in tandem with its changing Ost- and Deutschlandpolitik. In the 1950s, when independence was still a tangible memory and the Baltic peoples clung to the hope that Western diplomatic pressure might bring about a resolution of the Baltic (and German) question(s) sooner rather than later, issues revolved around steps that would symbolise the ‘theoretical’ de jure survival of the Baltic states’ existence. These included the establishment of Baltic diplomatic missions in the Federal Republic, the validity and recognition of Baltic passports, the administration of former Baltic governments’ property and real estate in Berlin, and recognition of Baltic associations as exile governments. Bonn, which in light of the German re-unification issue was anxious to avoid upsetting Moscow, took a very cautious approach to any aspects that were more than private and personal émigré matters. No diplomatic representation or even Baltic passport bureaux were established in West Germany, and no selfdeclared exile governments recognised. Yet informally and unofficially, the AA welcomed Baltic representatives, both members of the exdiplomatic corps and of refugee associations, to discuss the Baltic peoples’ situation. As the Cold War wore on and bipolar structures increasingly looked set to endure, both the activities of the Balts and the responses from Bonn bore less political urgency. In the context of détente and the normalisation of East–West relations, the emphasis shifted from seeking tangible political change and quick visible results to the use of language emphasising that both the German and Baltic questions were still legally open. The focus moved to the promotion of human rights and improvement of the people’s situation inside the Soviet Union and Soviet bloc. Bonn evidently pushed this rhetoric and these policies as part of its neue Ost- and Deutschlandpolitik. Yet although both Germans and Baltic peoples were in many ways in an equal position as they clung to the language of universal norms such as the ‘people’s right to self-determination’ and ‘human rights’ which were also at the core of the Helsinki Final Act of 1975, the Germans regarded the fate of the Baltic nations as more of an adjunct issue to their own. Bonn was aware that Germany and the unresolved postwar Deutschlandfrage held a key position in the international politics of a bipolar world. The entwinement of German and Baltic questions as two unresolved postwar legal issues was considered by the Germans as a marriage

West Germany and the Baltic question 127 of convenience. The Baltic question in its own right was never high on West Germany’s political agenda, other than as a means to the end of advancing Deutschlandpolitik. This was exposed during the Cold War endgame, when chancellor Kohl, despite employing universal legalistic rhetoric, conducted Realpolitik in his pursuit of national interest, namely German uniﬁcation, and subordinated the Baltic independence struggle to his goal. Still, Bonn was also inﬂuenced in its Baltic policies by the fact that it was never free from the historico-moral burden of the Hitler–Stalin Pact and thus its partial culpability for their loss of independence. Second, the voice of the German Balts in West German domestic affairs (also as part of the Bund der Vertriebenen) certainly played its part in ensuring that the Baltic question could not be dropped from Bonn’s political agenda. Given Germany’s history and complex postwar circumstances, West Germany’s Baltic policies could hardly have been any less complicated than those of other states.

Notes 1 The author wishes to thank former ambassador Henning von Wistinghausen for his comments on an earlier draft, especially for sharing invaluable insights into German Balts’ activities as well as his views on policies and personnel of the Auswärtige Amt. 2 See William J. Hough, III, ‘The Annexation of the Baltic States and its Effect on the Development of Law Prohibiting Forcible Seizure of Territory’, New York Law School Journal of International and Comparative Law 2, Winter, 1985, pp. 303–530; Lauri Mälksoo, Illegal Annexation and State Continuity: The Case of the Incorporation of the Baltic States by the USSR, Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff, 2003. See also Boris Meissner, ‘Die Grossmächte und die Baltische Frage’, Osteuropa 4 (1952) and Die Sowjetunion, die baltischen Staaten und das Völkerrecht, Cologne: Verlag für Politik W. Wirtschaft, 1956, pp. 241–250. 3 Boris Meissner was a civil servant in the Auswärtige Amt in 1953–1956 and 1958–1959 and at the German embassy in Moscow between 1956 and 1958. Many of his most notable contributions to the Baltic question and international law were compiled in a book to celebrate his eightieth birthday. Boris Meissner, Die Baltischen Staaten im weltpolitischen und völkerrechtlichen Wandel – Beiträge 1954–1994, Hamburg: Bibliotheka Baltica, 1995. 4 [B]estand11/[B]an[d].570, ‘Bundesminister des Inneren (3 August 1951)’; ‘Bundesminister des Inneren (12 September 1952)’. See also reference to letter of AA to Senator für Justiz in Berlin of 21 April 1953 in ‘Anlage: Die völkerrechtliche Stellungb . . . (6 April 1954)’. 5 B11/Bd.570‚ ‘Anlage: Die völkerrechtliche Stellung . . . (6 April 1954)’; ‘Stellungnahme . . . vom 6. April 1954 (12 April 1954)’. This was done with reference to the non-recognition policies of the USA, Britain and France in particular and to Sweden as the only country of the ‘free world’ that had de jure recognised the Baltic states’ absorption in the Soviet Union. 6 B38-IIA1/Bd.33‚ ‘Die Bundesrepublik Deutschland ist der einzig rechtmäßige deutsche Staat (undated)’; B38-IIA1/Bd.694‚ ‘Bezeichnungsrichtlinien . . . Juli 1965’. 7 B11/Bd.570‚ ‘Anlage: Die völkerrechtliche Stellung . . . (6 April 1954)’.

128 K. Spohr Readman 8 B11/Bd.570, ‘Bundesminister des Inneren (12 September 1952)’. See Meissner, Baltische Staaten, p. 220. 9 B11/Bd.570, ‘Bundesminister des Inneren (12 September 1952)’; ‘AA an alle diplomatischen und konsularischen Vertretungen im Ausland (27 September 1952)’. 10 See James T. McHugh and James S. Pacy, Diplomats without a Country: Baltic Democracy, International Law, and the Cold War, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2001; Robert A. Vitas, The United States and Lithuania: The Stimson Doctrine of Nonrecognition, New York: Praeger, 1990. 11 Germany was reproached for its reserved position by former Estonian foreign minister Pusta. B12/Bd. 449, ‘Letter from German embassy in Paris to AA (12 March 1954)’; ‘Aufzeichnung (13 December 1951)’; B11/Bd.570, ‘Aufzeichnung (3 January 1952)’; ‘Abteilung III and Herrn Staatsekretär (3 February 1952)’. Cf. B11/Bd.570, ‘by Kossmann (14 February 1953)’. 12 These representatives were either members of interwar diplomatic services or members of exile/refugee organisations. B11/Bd.570, ‘StS an v. Brentano (9 August 1954)’. 13 On DPs and their organisations, see B11/Bd.550, ‘Aufzeichnung (9 September 1950)’; ‘Vereinigter Litauischer Unterstützungsfonds (11 May 1951)’; ‘Konzept (30 July 1951)’; ‘Die heimatlosen Ausländer im Bundesgebiet (undated)’. 14 B12/Bd.449, ‘by Zarins (22 October 1951)’; ‘Vereinigter Litauischer Unterstützungsfonds (11 May 1951)’; B11/Bd.550, ‘Konzept (30 July 1951)’; B11/Bd.560, ‘Aufzeichnung (30 November 1950)’; ‘Kossmann, Vermerk (8 June 1951)’; ‘Kossmann, Aufzeichnug (3 February 1952)’. 15 B11/Bd.567, ‘Schlange-Schöningen (8 October 1951)’; B11/Bd.560, ‘Aufzeichnung (30 November 1950)’. 16 B12/Bd.449, ‘Aufzeichnung (13 December 1951)’. 17 B11/Bd.570, ‘Abteilung III an StS (3 February 1952)’. 18 B11/Bd.568, ‘Kossmann, Vermerk (1 February 1952)’. 19 B11/Bd.568, ‘Kossmann, Vermerk (1 February 1952)’. 20 B11/Bd.568, ‘Hallstein an Brentano (sent 19 May 1952)’; ‘Etzdorf, Aufzeichnung (12 January 1952)’; B11/Bd.567, ‘Etzdorf [meeting with Liepins] (18 June 1952)’. 21 As was reiterated at a private meeting between the head of the American liaison ofﬁce in Germany and an AA ofﬁcial in March. See B11/Bd.569, ‘Entwurf: Vermerk (28 March 1953)’. 22 B11/Bd.567, ‘Kossmann an GK London (6 June 1952)’. 23 On Selter’s case, B11/Bd.560, ‘Aufzeichnung (30 November 1950)’; ‘Vermerk – Betr.: Estnische Emigration (8 June 1951)’; ‘Vermerk (23 May 1951)’; ‘Abt. III signed Etzdorf (28 December 1951)’; ‘Aufzeichnung (3 January 1952)’; ‘Vermerk: Besuch Selter (16 April 1952)’; ‘Kossmann an Generalkonsulat London (11 June 1952)’. On Liepins, B11/Bd.567, ‘Kossmann an Generalkonsulat, London (6 June 1952)’; ‘Etzdorf (18 June 1952)’. On Lithuania, B11/Bd.568, ‘Blankenhorn, Aufzeichnung (22 December 1950)’; ‘Dittmann an Krupavicius (9 April 1951)’; ‘Stellungahme (2 April 1951 date crossed out)’ [NB letter sent on 9 April 1951]; ‘Aufzeichnung (8 October 1951)’; ‘Aufzeichnung (11 January 1952)’; ‘Aufzeichnung (25 April 1952)’. 24 B11/Bd.569, ‘Bräutigam an Rom (9 April 1953)’; ‘Bräutigam an Rom (13 October 1953)’. 25 B11/Bd.569, ‘Karvelis an Kossmann AA (9 October 1952)’. 26 B11/Bd.568, ‘Aufzeichnung an Blankenhorn (22 December 1950)’; ‘Hallstein an Krupavicius (9 April 1951)’.

West Germany and the Baltic question 129 27 B11/Bd.550, ‘Vermerk – Betr: Heimatlose Ausländer (11 March 1952)’. 28 B11/Bd.569, ‘Ivinskis an Kossmann AA (30 August 1952)’. 29 B11/Bd.569, ‘Aufzeichnung (26 August 1953)’; ‘Bräutigam an Rom (13 October 1953)’. 30 B12/Bd.449, ‘Lettische Emigration (12 May 1955)’. 31 B11/Bd.560‚ ‘Etzdorf (28 December 1951)’. 32 B11/Bd.550, ‘Von Trützschler an Dr Kossmann + Anlage (10 April 1951)’. See also B11/Bd.567‚ ‘Die lettische Emigration und ihre Organisation’. 33 B11/Bd.550, ‘Aufzeichnung (9 September 1950)’. 34 German Balts in high AA positions included Meissner, Meyer-Landrut, von Stackelberg, von Staden, von Wistinghausen and Graf Lambsdorff. 35 In the VdL leadership were CSU parliamentarian Baron Georg ManteuffelSzoege and FDP MP Axel de Vries, both German Balts. 36 On the Deutsch-Baltische Landsmannschaft and their aims, see www.deutschbalten.de/seiten/01-wir_ueber_uns/02-aufgaben/01-fruehere/index.php (as of 6 June 2005). A cultural society without any political ambition was the Verband Baltischer Ritterschaften e.V. (founded in 1949) of the German Baltic nobility, see www.baltische-ritterschaften.de. On German expellees and their inﬂuence on West German politics (though there is very little on German Balts [sic!]), see Pertti Ahonen, After the Expulsion: West Germany and Eastern Europe 1945–1990, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. 37 B81/Bd.338. In view of re-settlements, the German Balts can be divided into two groups: (1) the majority who were ﬁrst re-settled from Estonia and Latvia to the Reich’s Eastern territories, speciﬁcally the Warthegau, as a consequence of Hitler’s ‘Heim ins Reich’ call in autumn 1939, and then endured forced expulsion at the end of the Second World War from what now was Poland to West Germany; (2) those who as so-called Nachumsiedler re-settled from the Baltic to Germany after 1941. On Heimatrecht, see Ahonen, op. cit. pp. 42–3. 38 B11/Bd.550, ‘Hasselblatt an Kordt (26 August 1950)’; ‘Vereinigter Litauischer Unterstützungsfonds (11 May 1951)’; ‘Konzept (30 July 1951)’. 39 B11/Bd.560, ‘Aufzeichnung (30 November 1950)’; ‘v. Maydell, Vermerk (23 May 1951)’; ‘Kossmann: Vermerk (8 June 1951)’; ‘Kaiv and Krekeler (10 November 1951)’; ‘Etzdorf (28 December 1951)’; ‘Kossmann, Aufzeichnung (3 January 1952)’; ‘Vermerk (16 April 1952)’; ‘Kossmann an GK London (11 June 1952)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘Zarins an Schlange-Schöningen (22 October 1951)’. 40 B11/Bd.560, ‘Estnische Exilegierung in Schweden (12 January 1953)’; ‘Vermerk zu 212–14/20 III 8840/53 (undated)’; ‘de Vries an Kossmann (19 May 1953)’; ‘Estnische Exilgruppen (21 July 1953)’. See also Lauri Mälksoo, ‘Professor Uluots, the Estonian Government in Exile and the Continuity of the Republic of Estonia in International Law’, Nordic Journal of International Law 69, 2000, pp. 289–316. 41 B11/Bd.570, ‘AA and Brentano (9 August 1954)’. 42 B11/Bd.569, ‘Diplomatic Representatives . . . from June 27–30, 1952’. 43 B12/Bd.449‚ ‘Rom an AA (29 May 1954)’. 44 B12/Bd. 449, ‘Schaffarczyk an Dr Kossmann (23 March 1953)’; ‘von Maydell an Schffarczyk . . . Anfrage vom 23 March 1953’; ‘Aide Memoir (27 March 1953)’; ‘Rom an AA (29 May 1954)’. B11/Bd.406, ‘Schlange-Schöningen an AA (19 February 1954)’. B11/Bd.433, ‘Ottawa an AA (19 May 1954)’. B11/Bd.474, ‘Bot. Washington, DC (2 December 1953)’. B12/Bd.449, ‘Paris an AA (12 March 1954)’. 45 B12/Bd.449, ‘Bräutigam an Skirpa (13 July 1953)’; ‘Rom an AA (18 July 1953)’; B11/Bd.570, ‘Stellungnahme (12 April 1954)’; ‘Aufzeichnung (18 May 1954)’; ‘Hackwitz an Referat 350 (2 November 1954)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘Litauische Anfrage (22 June 1954)’.

130 K. Spohr Readman 46 B11/Bd.550, ‘Mitteilung (24 June 1952)’. 47 B11/Bd.569, ‘AA an Bundesinnenministerium (undated, presumably June 1953)’. 48 B11/Bd.570, ‘Bräutigam, Vermerk (8 July 1954)’; ‘Stellungnahme (12 April 1954)’. 49 B11/Bd.570, ‘Vermerk (5 May 1954)’. 50 In July 1954, VLIK sought ofﬁcial recognition by the US government of its status as Lithuania’s exile government. Washington bluntly rejected VLIK’s request with a ‘no’. B80/Bd.36, ‘Washington an AA (25 August 1952)’; B11/Bd.570‚ ‘Litauer in zwei Lager gespalten (17 July 1954)’; ‘Vermerk (5 May 1954)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘Pro Memoria, Lozoraitis (9 January 1952)’; ‘Rom an AA (29 May 1954)’; ‘Aufruf (20 May 1955)’. 51 B11/Bd.570, ‘Vermerk (5 May 1954)’. 52 B11/Bd.570, ‘Stellungnahme (12 August 1954)’; ‘ETLA (15 May 1954)’. 53 B11/Bd.570, ‘Meissner, Aufzeichnung (18 May 1954)’; ‘Rom an AA (23 June 1954)’. See also B12/Bd.449‚ ‘Blankenhorn an Pünder MdB (12 February 1955)’; ‘Aufruf (20 May 1955)’; B11/Bd.570‚ ‘Stellungnahme (12 August 1954)’. 54 See Meissner, Baltische Staaten, pp. 220–1. 55 On Potsdam and the border issue, see for instance B 11 Band 289, ‘Meissner, Aufzeichnung – Betr.: Vorbehalte hinsichtlich östlicher Territorialfragen bei Augnahme diplomatischer Beziehungen zur Sowjetunion (27 June 1955)’. B11/Bd.651, ‘Auszüge aus dem Potsdamer Abkommen . . .’; ‘Entwurf – Merkblatt (undated, but other material is from 1953)’. See also Ingo von Münch (ed.), Dokumente des geteilten Deutschland, Stuttgart: Kröner, 1976, p. 42. 56 See Konrad Adenauer, Erinnerungen 1945–53, Stuttgart: DVA, 1965 (6th edn), p. 539; Ludolf Herbst, Option für den Westen: Vom Marschallplan bis zum deutsch-französischen Vertrag, München: DTV, 1996 (2nd edn), pp. 63–193. On East–West relations, Germany and the Baltic question, see also B11/Bd.567, ‘Etzdorf (18 June 1952)’. 57 B11/Bd.567, ‘Etzdorf (18 June 1952)’; B11/Bd.568, ‘Stellungnahme (2 April 1951 date crossed out) [NB letter sent on 9 April 1951]’; ‘Aufzeichnung (8 October 1951)’; ‘Aufzeichnung (12 January 1952)’. 58 B11/Bd.570, ‘Aufzeichnung (18 May 1954)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘von Strohm an Liepins (8 October 1954)’. 59 B11/Bd.570, ‘Stellungnahme (12 April 1954)’. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 Ibid. 63 On US policy, B11/Bd.569, ‘Statement by Dulles . . . (30 November 1953)’; B11/Bd.474, ‘USA und Satellitenvölker (2 December 1953)’. 64 B11/Bd.570, ‘Stellungnahme (12 April 1954)’. 65 Ibid. 66 B11/Bd.570, ‘StS an Brentano (9 August 1954)’. 67 B11/Bd.570, ‘Vermerk (29 November 1954)’; B11/Bd.556‚ ‘Aufzeichnung (29 July 1954)’; ‘by Bräutigam (21 October 1954)’. 68 B12/Bd.449‚ ‘v. Hackwitz an Referat 350 (2 November 1954)’; ‘An Liepins (8 October 1954)’; B11/Bd.570‚ ‘Vermerk (8 July 1954)’. Cf. B11/Bd.570, ‘Litauische Paßstelle (7 October 1954)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘An Liepins (8 October 1954)’. 69 B11/Bd.556, ‘Meissner (22 June 1954)’. 70 B11/Bd.556, ‘de Vries an AA (22 June 1954)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘de Vries an Kossmann (22 November 1954)’. 71 See Herbst, op. cit. pp. 126–159; Peter Bender, Die ‘Neue Ostpolitik’ und ihre

West Germany and the Baltic question 131

72 73

74

75 76

77 78 79 80

81 82 83 84

Folgen: Vom Mauerbau bis zur Vereiningung, Munich: DTV, 1996, pp. 29–55; Ahonen, op. cit. p. 119. See also Kristina Spohr, ‘A historical perspective on West Germany’s foreign and alliance policies 1989–1990’ (M.Phil. Cambridge, 1998), Chapter 3. B11/Bd.289, ‘Geheim! Meissner, Aufzeichnung (23 June 1955)’; ‘Geheim! Meissner, Aufzeichnung (27 June 1955)’. Quote to be found in B. Meissner, Moskau-Bonn: Die Beziehungen zwischen der Sowjetunion und der Bundesrepublik 1955–1973, Bd.1, Köln: Wittenschaft u. Politik, 1975, p. 124. See also B41/Bd.109, ‘Fragestunde am 7. 9 October 1970, gez. Lahn (1 October 1970)’ See Gottfried Zieger, Die Haltung von SED und DDR zur Einheit Deutschlands 1949–87, Köln: Wittenschaft u. Politik, 1985, p. 76; Johannes L. Kuppe, ‘Deutschlandpolitik’, in Karl-Rudolf Korte and Werner Weidenfeld, Handbuch zue deutschen Einheit, Bonn: Bundeszentrale für Politische Bildung, 1996, p. 194. Rudolf Morsey, Die Bundesrepublik Deutschland, München: Oldenbourg, 1995 (3rd edn), pp. 42–3. Erstumsiedler: German Balts from Estonia and Latvia who had been re-settled into the Reich in October 1939. These Erstumsiedler were treated in exactly the same way as Altreichsdeutsche with German citizenship on 21 June 1941. Nachumsiedler: Litauen-Deutsche and German Balts who had come to the Reich on the terms of the German–Soviet re-settlement agreements of January 1941, or who had acquired German citizenship under German occupation. In the case of Nachumsiedler, Bonn emphasised the importance of German Volkszugehörigkeit. Memelländer: Memelländer who themselves or whose parents were already resident in the Memelland in 1918, and Memelländer who had moved to the Memel after 1918. In the ﬁrst category of Memelländer, attention was paid to holding German citizenship on 21 June 1941. In the second, it was necessary to be able to prove German Volkszugehörigkeit. The former category was the most complicated group, because a Soviet decree of 16 December 1947 held that those with Lithuanian citizenship as of 22 March 1939 were to be considered Soviet citizens. The Bonn government managed to achieve an agreement that the decree be modiﬁed. B12/Bd.487, ‘Erklärung (September 1957)’. B12/Bd.495. B41/Bd.109, ‘Repatriierungserklärung (undated, April 1958)’. See also Meissner, Baltische Staaten, pp. 222–4. B12/Bd.495, ‘Moskau and AA (1 July 1960)’. B41/Bd.109, ‘IIA4–81.12, VS – NfD, Boldt (16 June 1970)’. B12/Bd.452, ‘Von Staden (12 October 1955)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘Bräutigam an v. Herwarth (5 December 1955)’. See also B11/Bd.569, ‘AA an Bundesinnenministerium (undated, June 1953)’. B12/Bd.452‚ ‘Von Staden (12 October 1955)’; B12/Bd.449, ‘Bräutigam v. Herwarth (5 December 1955)’; B11/Bd.569, ‘AA an Bundesinnenministerium (undated, June 1953)’. See also B39-IIA2/Bd.51, ‘Vermerk (27 November 1962)’; ‘Bock an Ref. V 3 [502] (22 March 1963)’; ‘Karvelis an AA, Kopie (10 October 1962)’. B12/Bd.452, ‘Tagung (14 November 1956)’; ‘Sitzung . . . am 27 March 1957’. B39 – IIA2/Bd.19, ‘BdV Präsident an BK (16 April 1962)’. B12/Bd.452, ‘Tagung . . . 22 October 56 (14 November 1956) + Sitzung . . . am 27 March 1957’. B12/Bd.449, ‘Bräutigam an Senator (4 January 1956)’. B41 Band 13, ‘An Ref V 5 (4 June 1965)’; ‘gez. Dr Hecker (7 July 1965)’; ‘Dr Hecker an Rechtsanwalt und Notar (21 July 1965)’. See B41/Bd.77; B81/Bd.235. On the Estonian embassy, see also www.estemb.de/lang_6/rub_91/rub2_730 (as of 6 June 2005).

132 K. Spohr Readman 85 B39 – IIA 2/Bd.19, ‘Abt 2 an Ref 314 (31 July 1956)’; ‘Newspaper report on “Freiheit . . .” [Tagung 20 September 1956] (7 October 1956)’. 86 B12/Bd.452, ‘Die Exilmissionen (29 January 1959)’. 87 B12/Bd.452, ‘Aufzeichnung (8 August 1960)’; ‘Reykjavik an AA (16 September 1959)’. 88 B12/Bd.452, ‘Botschaft Rio de Janeiro an AA (15 March 1961)’. 89 Source: adapted from a survey by the AA, B12/Bd. 452, ‘Aufzeichnung (8 August 1960)’. 90 B12/Bd.452, ‘Entschließung (5/1960)’; ‘Abt7 an Bundesminister (2 May 1960)’; ‘Ref. 704, Aufzeichnung (2 May 1960)’. 91 B12/Bd.452, ‘Ref 704 (5 August 1960)’; ‘Fernschreiben aus London Nr. 625 vom 9 August 1960’; ‘Fernschreiben aus Paris Nr. 779 vom 10 August 1960’; ‘Fernschreiben aus Brüssel Nr. 138 vom 19 August 1960’. 92 B12/Bd.452‚ ‘Ref 704 (5 August 1960)’; ‘Ref. 704, Aufzeichnung (20 August 1960)’. 93 B12/Bd.452, ‘Lage . . . (7 October 1960)’; ‘CoE . . . Resolution 189 (29 September 1960)’. 94 B12/Bd.452, ‘Stellungnahme (27 September 1960)’. 95 See Bender, op. cit.; Timothy Garton Ash, In Europe’s Name: Germany and the Divided Continent, New York: Vintage, 1994. For an interpretation that people power forced politicians to adjust their policies, see Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Power of Detente, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003. 96 B40/Bd.61, ‘Botschaft Moskau an AA (3 May 1963)’. For ﬁgures, see B41/Bd.109, ‘IIA4–81.12, gez. Effenberg (26 April 1971)’. Here, it was highlighted that while there had been a decline of the Russian population in the Russian, Uzbek, Kazakh, Gruzia, Azerbaijani, Khirgis, Tadjik, Armenian and Turkmen SSRs, Russiﬁcation was rapidly rising in the Baltic Republics. In 1959, there were 231,000 Russians in the Lithuanian SSR, in 1970 their numbers had increased to 268,000. In Latvia, the ﬁgures were 556,000– 705,000 and in Estonia 240,000–335,000. 97 B39-IIA2/Bd.19, ‘Verwaltung (11 December 1956)’. 98 B41/Bd.64, ‘London an AA (10 March 1964)’; ‘London an AA (1 July 1965)’; ‘Fernschreiben aus London Nr. 981, 7 May 1966’; ‘Fernschreiben aus London Nr. 351, 17 February 1967’; ‘Blumenfeld AA an Bundesminister für Gesamtdeutsche Fragen (20 March 1967) + Abschrift’. 99 B41/Bd.109, ‘Lozoraitis an Scheel (19 April 1970)’; ‘Lahm an Minister (20 May 1970)’; ‘Hofmann an Dg II A (22 May 1970)’; ‘Vermerk (9 June 1970)’; ‘Lahm an Lozoraitis – Entwurf (9 June 1970)’; ‘Baltischer Rat an Bundeskanzler (20 July 1970)’; ‘Ozolins an Brandt (20 July 1970)’; ‘Blumenfeld and New Farmers . . . (10 December 1970)’; ‘Estonian National Council, Memo (9 July 1970)’; ‘AA an Grigulis (16 September 1970)’; ‘An Blumenfeld, Vermerk (18 September 1970)’. 100 B41/Bd.109, ‘Vermerk (12 August 1970)’; cf. B40/Bd.61, ‘An Referat I A I (22 March 1963)’. 101 B41/Bd.109, ‘Fragestunde am 7. 9 October 1970 (28 September 1970)’; Lahm – Ref L1 (1 October 1970)’. For the treaty see, Bender, op. cit. pp. 299–301. 102 Stenographische Berichte des Deutschen Bundestags 71. Sitzung vom 9. Oktober 1970, p. 3931. 103 Boris Meissner later argued in his scholarly work that in his view the inclusion of the city of Vilnius could well have been feasible in legal terms. Meissner, Baltische Staaten, p. 225. See also Henning von Wistinghausen, Im freien Estland – Erinnerungen des ersten deutschen Botschafters 1991–1995, Köln: Böhlau, 2004, pp. 3–12, esp. p. 9.

West Germany and the Baltic question 133 104 B41/Bd.107, ‘Blumenfeld an von Kleist [Baltische Briefe] (28 June 1972)’; ‘Von Kleist an Blumenfeld (23 June 1972)’; B41/Bd.109, ‘Meyer-Landrut an Wiegand (6 December 1972)’. 105 See Meissner, Baltische Staaten, pp. 130–43. 106 B39-IIA2/Bd.61, ‘An Litauische Volksgemeinschaft (5 June 1973)’; ‘Ref.211 an Ref 213 (15 May 1973)’. 107 See Meissner, Baltische Staaten, pp. 130–6. 108 B41/Bd.107‚ ‘Scheel an Präsidenten des Zentralkomitees der deutschen Katholiken (7 November 1972)’. 109 On the Helsinki effect, see Jussi M. Hanhimäki, ‘Ironies and Turning Points: Détente in Perspective’, in Odd Arne Westad, Reviewing the Cold War, London: Frank Cass, 2000, pp. 326–342; Daniel C. Thomas, The Helsinki Effect: International Norms, Human Rights, and the Demise of Communism, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001. John Hiden and Patrick Salmon, The Baltic Nations and Europe, Harlow: Longman, 1991, pp. 134–44. 110 B41/Bd.109, ‘Heiliger Stuhl an AA (30 May 1970)’; ‘Ereignisse in Litauen (29 August 1972)’; B41/Bd.107‚ ‘Botschaft Moskau an AA (18 July 1972)’; ‘Heiliger Stuhl an AA (18 July 1972)’. 111 On similar considerations within the USA, cf. ‘15. SOVA Research Paper, December 1982, Soviet Society in the 1980s: Problems and Prospects’, printed in G.K. Haines and R.E. Legget, CIA’s Analysis of the Soviet Union, 1947–1991, Washington D.C.: Center for the Study of Intelligence, 2001, pp. 108–10. 112 See K. Spohr Readman, Germany and the Baltic Problem after the Cold War: The Development of a New Ostpolitik, 1989–2000, London/New York: Routledge, 2004; For the 2+4 Treaty. see Karl Kaiser, Deutschlands Vereinigung: Die internationalen Aspekte, Bergisch-Gladbach: Luebbe, 1993, pp. 260–8. 113 EST-VM Saksamaa 1990–1992, ‘to Lennart Meri, on 14 September 1990, Genscher – Shevardnadze mittelkallatungi pakti +artikel 2’; ‘Attn: Ilves from Mikhel Mutt, 15 September 1990’; ‘Meri to Genscher (20 September 1990)’. 114 EST-VM Saksamaa 1990–1992, ‘Schriftliche Anfrage Hans Graf Huyn (1 October 1990)’; ‘Dr Irmgard Adam Schwätzer an MdB Huyn (16 October 1990)’. 115 See www.stern.de/politik/ausland/523340.html?eid=521890 (as of 6 June 2005); v. Wistinghausen, op. cit., pp. 184–6. 116 See an AA assessment in 1973, the position of which was to remain unchanged until 1991, B39 – IIAI/Bd.61, ‘Fleischhauer (15 May 1973)’.

10 The Estonian Government-inExile A controversial project of state continuation Vahur Made

In 1943, the National Committee of the Republic of Estonia was established in German-occupied Tallinn. The Committee comprised members of the Estonian political elite (politicians, state ofﬁcials, diplomats) that had ruled the country prior to the Soviet annexation of June 1940. It was led by Jüri Uluots, who had served as Prime Minister during 1938–1940. Members of the Committee recognised Uluots as the last ‘constitutional’ head of the Estonian government, given that the Soviet-installed government of Johannes Vares Barbarus (June–August 1940) was illegal and in breach of the 1938 Estonian constitution. According to the 1938 constitution, the Prime Minister was obliged to function as acting President when the President was unable to fulﬁl his duties. With President Konstantin Päts (1934–1940) having been arrested in 1940 by the Soviet army and deported to Russia, Uluots proclaimed himself acting President in April 1944. On 18 September, already suffering from cancer, he named Otto Tief as Deputy Prime Minister and formed a provisional Government consisting of 11 members selected from the members of the National Council.1 Two days later, Uluots left Estonia for Sweden, where he died in January 1945. On 20 September 1944, Tief’s government proclaimed the restoration of the Estonian state, during the brief period between the withdrawal of German troops and the arrival of the Soviet Army. Military units loyal to Tief clashed with both the Germans and the Russians, but the government never managed to take full control of the Estonian capital. It was overrun by Soviet forces on 22 September. Some members of the Tief government, such as August Rei, managed to escape to Sweden but the remainder were arrested by the Soviet authorities, and either executed or deported to Siberia. Tief for his part survived ten years of imprisonment in Siberia and died in Ahja, Estonia, in 1976. Although the Tief government could do nothing to restore the de facto independence of Estonia, its formation launched the processes that resulted in 1953 in the establishment of two Estonian governments-in-

The Estonian Government-in-Exile 135 exile. The emergence of two competing bodies is a reﬂection of the strained relations that existed between different Estonian politicians. Formally, however, the split arose from the differing interpretations of the 1938 Estonian Constitution and the mechanisms that this incorporated for the election of a President and the appointment of a government in emergency situations. The Constitution ruled that in the event of both the President and the Prime Minister being unable to govern, the most senior member of the government should assume both responsibilities. As we have seen, in 1945 President Konstantin Päts was imprisoned in Russia, Prime Minister Uluots was dying and Deputy Prime Minister Tief had been arrested by the Soviets. After Uluots died on 9 January 1945 Rei, being the oldest member of Tief government, announced that he had assumed the responsibilities of acting President. Rei was supported by those members of the Tief government who had managed to escape to Sweden, and he had the backing of the majority of Estonian politicians residing there. This support, however, was not unanimous and did not extend beyond the Estonian community in Sweden. Another group of Estonian politicians led by Alfred Maurer2 challenged Rei’s assumption of the post, arguing that according to the 1938 Constitution, a body consisting of politicians and higher civil servants should now be convened to elect a new President. Maurer’s initiative enjoyed widespread approval amongst the Estonian communities in North America, Germany and Australia. The ﬁrst Estonian government-in-exile was established on 12 January 1953 in Oslo by August Rei. Maurer established a rival body on 2 March 1953 in Augustdorf, Germany, but this did not survive the death of its founder in September 1954. After Rei also died in 1963 the following persons held the title of Acting President and formed the governments-inexile: Aleksander Warma (in ofﬁce 1963–1970), Tõnis Kint (1970–1990) and Heinrich Mark (1990–1992). Between 1953 and 1992, a total of ﬁve Estonian governments-in-exile were formed. Meetings of the governments-in-exile took place in Sweden, where most of the members lived. The activities were rather low-proﬁle, consisting for the most part of political declarations condemning Soviet occupation of Estonia and the other Baltic states and efforts to resolve technical matters connected to citizenship and passport issues. The activities of the body ceased on 8 October 1992, when Heinrich Mark addressed the Estonian Parliament before handing over his ‘credentials’ to newly elected Estonian President Lennart Meri. The many documents, memoirs and articles relating to the establishment and activities of the government-in-exile give a ﬂavour of the legal debates within the Estonian exile community, but leave a number of crucial questions unanswered.3 Why, for instance, did the politicians behind the Estonian Government(s)-in-Exile not cooperate with Estonian diplomatic representatives in New York and London? Also, why did the

136 V. Made three Baltic communities not work together to develop a common position on the establishment of governments-in-exile?

Diplomats and politicians The leaders of the Estonian exile community had in a number of cases been prominent politicians or state ofﬁcials in pre-1940 Estonia. Many of these leaders appeared to believe that the former civil service and state apparatus had accompanied them into exile, thus allowing them to treat the establishment of a government(s)-in-exile as a ‘domestic’ process rather than something that was the concern of diplomatic representatives or which required consultation with those countries that had refused to recognise the Soviet annexation of the Baltic states. Estonian diplomatic representatives for their part held extensive discussions on the subject of a government-in-exile and also closely monitored the opinions of Washington and London in this respect. It seems that Johannes Kaiv, the Estonian Consul-General in New York from 1939 to 1965, originally supported the idea of an Estonian government-in-exile. In July 1952, Kaiv visited Stockholm, where he delivered a speech to the Estonian Committee, a leading organisation of the Swedish Estonians. Kaiv argued that since the 1938 constitution made provision for a government-in-exile, this represented one further option for the Estonian resistance movement against the Soviet Union. Kaiv added that if such a government was to be created, it should enjoy the support of the entire Estonian community in exile. Otherwise, it would not be possible to guarantee international, particularly US recognition for that government.4 While one cannot be entirely certain, it appears probable that Kaiv’s Stockholm statement ultimately acted as a catalyst for the establishment of governments-in-exile. The fact that Kaiv supported Maurer’s interpretation of the 1938 constitution seems to have prompted both Maurer and consequently also Rei to act in this regard. On 2 January 1953, Maurer and his supporters held a meeting in Stockholm at which it was decided to convene the Electoral Body. Knowing this, Rei decided to act quickly, and travelled together with his supporters to Oslo, where he proclaimed the government-in-exile. Maurer’s response in Augustdorf came two months later.5 What is clear is that Kaiv could not overcome the divisions within the exile community. Internal frictions were clearly apparent during exile media debates, and were quickly picked up by USA and other foreign services. They were a particular source of concern inside the US State Department, where it was ﬁnally decided not to support any kind of Estonian government-in-exile. This position was communicated to Kaiv, who was asked not to recognise Rei’s government following its establishment in Oslo.6 The State Department also expressed its regret at the splits within the Estonian émigré community over the issue, stating that such divisions

The Estonian Government-in-Exile 137 were the main obstacle to US recognition of the Rei government.7 In this regard, Washington took its cue from the US embassy in Stockholm, which expressed particular concern over Maurer’s initiative and warned against recognising any of the Estonian governments-in-exile.8 Additional concerns emerged during 1953–1954, when both the State Department and the Estonian diplomatic missions in New York and London began to fear that the establishment of a government-in-exile would undermine the position of all the Estonian diplomatic missions abroad.9 Unlike Kaiv, Estonian Ambassador to London August Torma (in ofﬁce 1934–1971) had rejected the idea of a government-in-exile from the very beginning. Torma’s position in London, however, was much weaker than that of Kaiv, in so far as the British Foreign Ofﬁce had ceased to recognise the existence of the Estonian embassy in London. In 1942, the Foreign Ofﬁce downgraded Torma’s status to that of a person who enjoyed individual diplomatic privileges but was not recognised as a diplomatic representative of a foreign country.10 Torma thus feared that if he and the (former) embassy in London became subordinate to a government-in-exile, this would give the Foreign Ofﬁce a further legal pretext for weakening his personal position. Torma justiﬁed his stance with reference to the arguments of the (former) Latvian ambassador to London Karlis Zarins (in ofﬁce 1933–1963). Zarins had apparently been told that the British Foreign Ofﬁce refused to recognise governments-in-exile and would immediately withdraw all diplomatic privileges – even those attached to his individual person – should Zarins subordinate himself to such a body.11 According to Torma, the former Lithuanian ambassador in London shared the same opinion. In March 1953, Torma duly informed Kaiv that he could not recognise the government-in-exile, lest this weaken or even destroy the already fragile diplomatic position he held in London.12 The following year Kaiv delivered a speech to the Estonian National Committee in the USA, where he argued that the legal continuity of the Estonian state rested upon the US policy of non-recognition and described the Consulate-General in New York and other Estonian diplomatic missions as the only embodiments of that continuity. In Kaiv’s revised opinion, the government-in-exile could never become as legitimate and inﬂuential an institution of continuity as these diplomatic missions.13 Kaiv’s position with regard to the government-in-exile was subsequently upheld by his successor Ernst Jaakson from 1965 to 1991. Jaakson for his part was of the opinion that the Latvian and Lithuanian embassies in the USA could operate much more effectively simply because they did not have to contend with competition and criticism from governments-in-exile.14

138 V. Made

Attempts to create Latvian and Lithuanian governments-inexile It is far from clear whether exile Estonian political leaders even discussed the government-in-exile issue with their Latvian and Lithuanian counterparts. Both of the latter communities attempted to create corresponding bodies of their own, though in the case of Latvia these efforts were strongly opposed by Karlis Zarins in his role as head of the exiled Latvian diplomatic service.15 Zarins consistently briefed against the concept of a government-in-exile at the State Department, and may well have inﬂuenced the latter when it came to its discussions with Kaiv.16 The Lithuanian exile community had probably the best political conditions for the creation of a government-in-exile. In June 1940, Lithuanian President Antanas Smetona ﬂed his country together with a number of leading politicians and state ofﬁcials. In the Kybartai Declaration given by Smetona shortly before he left Lithuania, the possibility of establishing a Lithuanian government-in-exile is mentioned. However, the US Government – while granting Smetona and his family entry visas in September 1940 – declared that it would not acknowledge Smetona as a head of state or member of a government.17 Subsequently, the members of the provisional government formed in Lithuania during the summer of 1941 were either arrested by the Nazis or ﬂed to Germany in 1944, settling in the Würzburg–Regensburg–Munich region which soon became the US zone of occupation. In 1945, politicians previously involved in the provisional government formed the Supreme Committee for the Liberation of Lithuania (Vyriansiasis Lietuvos islaisvinimo komitetas – VLIK in Lithuanian), which, in its communications with the US occupation administration in Germany called itself ‘the Lithuanian Government’ and asked to be treated as a legitimate political institution representing Lithuania and Lithuanian citizens in Germany.18 In 1954, the Committee unsuccessfully sought recognition from the US State Department as the Lithuanian government-in- exile.19

The position of Norway and Sweden In the eyes of the Norwegian government, the establishment by Rei of an Estonian government-in-exile in Oslo was a purely private matter. The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) even claimed that it had ﬁrst heard of the government’s formation when reading the Swedish press,20 though this seems doubtful given that leading Swedish politicians knew about the plans of the Rei group before it travelled to Oslo. Whatever the case, the MFA emphasised strongly that the ‘government’ had neither political nor public signiﬁcance: ‘We cannot ban private meetings. We cannot stop people if they want to establish themselves a government’, MFA desk ofﬁcer Ræder explained to the Verdens Gang newspaper.21

The Estonian Government-in-Exile 139 The response from Sweden was considerably different. On 31 January 1953, the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs made an ofﬁcial declaration stating that it would not recognise the newly established Estonian government-in-exile and stressing that the Estonian community in Sweden did not have the right to carry out political activities.22 This response clearly classed the establishment of the Estonian government-in-exile in Oslo as a political and public activity and was possibly made with the connivance of Estonian politicians involved in the Rei government. On 9 February 1953, for instance, Aleksander Warma, the former Estonian ambassador to Finland and later Minister of Foreign Affairs in Rei’s government, visited the US embassy in Stockholm where he had a conversation with Marshall Green, the First Secretary of the embassy. Warma mentioned that before going to Oslo members of Rei’s government informed certain important Social Democrats who were close to the Swedish Cabinet that the government-in-exile was to be set up in Oslo. According to Warma, they were not discouraged by the Swedish politicians. Although the negative reaction of the Swedish government could be expected its actual wording was less sharp than anticipated. Warma also told Green that in their future activities the members of the governmentin-exile did not expect any difﬁculties from the side of the Swedish Government.23 Why then was the government-in-exile established in Oslo rather than in Stockholm? Participants in the event later gave various explanations for this. Rei for his part claimed that he selected Oslo because in Norway, unlike in Sweden, exiles/refugees were allowed to engage in political activities.24 Still, it was clear that Sweden had no intention of repressing the members of the Rei government or any other subsequent governmentin-exile. It seems that the main rationale behind choosing Oslo was to give the Swedish MFA stronger grounds for treating the ‘government’ as a political institution, even if this was unlikely to attract recognition and attain legitimacy.

The re-established Republic of Estonia and the governmentin-exile If one examines the relations that developed between the government-inexile and the restored Estonian Republic after August 1991, it is hard to see any coherent legal approach. Estonia’s new leaders clearly gave priority to the Consulate-General in New York: this immediately became an integral part of the re-established Estonian foreign service, with Ernst Jaakson nominated as ambassador both to the USA and to the United Nations. Tallinn did, however, understand the importance of the government-in-exile in terms of accommodating the Estonian community in Sweden. Through a somewhat obscure political manoeuvre, the restored Estonian Republic did something that the Consulate-General in

140 V. Made New York and other Estonian diplomatic missions in exile had refused to do during the Cold War. It indirectly recognised the Government-in-Exile. On 8 October 1992, the last Acting President-in-Exile Heinrich Mark was ofﬁcially invited to Tallinn to address the Estonian Parliament (Riigikogu) and to ‘hand over the credentials’ of the government-in-exile to the newly elected Estonian President Lennart Meri. From his side Meri issued a statement expressing gratitude to Mark and the Government-inExile for ‘keeping the legal continuity’ of the Estonian state.25 According to Mälksoo, Meri saw the additional symbolic value that the governmentin-exile could offer to the Estonian presidential institution, and was keen to depict the acting Presidents from Uluots to Mark as a kind of legal bridge stretching from Päts to himself.26 Thus, according to the ofﬁcial web site of the President of Estonia, at least, the legal existence of the Estonian presidential institution was not discontinued by the Soviet occupation.27 In Stefan Talmon’s opinion, the recogniton of a government-in-exile involves both ‘subjective and objective components’: if the ‘subjective component’ is the juridical act of recognition itself, then by ‘objective component’ Talmon means that a government-in-exile has to be treated equally to the government-in-situ.28 In so far as the Estonian governmentin-exile never displayed either of these ‘components’, it is hardly surprising that it played a very marginal role in the restoration of Estonian independence. In the ﬁnal analysis, what really counted was the determination of the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian people to express their continued desire for independence, the support that this aspiration received from Western democracies and the unique opportunity that emerged with the collapse of the Soviet system. Exile may be able to preserve symbols, but exile alone is unable to restore symbols to power.

Notes 1 The Otto Tief government in 1944: Otto Tief – Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Interior Affairs, Arnold Susi – Minister of Education, Rudolf Penno – Minister of Trade and Industry, Johannes Klesment – Minister of Justice, Kaarel Liidak – Minister of Agriculture, Hugo Pärtelpoeg – Minister of Finance, Voldemar Sumberg – Minister of Social Affairs, Johan Holberg – Minister of Defence (War), Johannes Pikkov – Minister of Transportation (Roads), August Rei – Minister of Foreign Affairs and Juhan Kaarlimäe – Minister without Portfolio. 2 Maurer had been deputy chairman of the second chamber of the Estonian parliament prior to 1940, and was not a member of the Tief government. 3 On Jüri Uluots, the Otto Tief government and Estonian Government(s)-inExile, see Johannes Klesment. ‘Kolm aastat iseseisvuse võitlust võõra okupatsiooni all’ (Three years of the ﬁght for independence under foreign occupation) in Eesti riik ja rahvas Teises maailmasõjas VIII (The Estonian state and people in the Second World War), Stockholm: EMP, 1959. Helmut Maandi, ‘Eesti Vabariigi Rahvsukomitee ja Otto Tief ’ (The National Committee of the Republic of Estonia and Otto Tief), Looming, 10, 1988. Heinrich

The Estonian Government-in-Exile 141

4 5 6

7 8 9

10

Mark, ‘Eesti Vabariigi Presidendi ja Valitsuse juriidiline kontinuiteet’ (The juridical continuity of the President and Government of the Republic of Estonia), Looming, 10, 1989. Enn Nõu, ‘Eesti pagulasvalitsus 1944–1988: 44 aastat riiklikku pagulaspoliitikat’ (Estonian Government-in-Exile 1944–1988: 44 years of state policy in exile), Akadeemia, 2, 1990. Arnold Susi, ‘Jüri Uluotsa katse Eesti iseseisvust taastada’ (The attempt by Jüri Uluots to restore Estonia’s independence), Looming, 3, 1989. Mart Laar, ‘Jüri Uluots aastal 1944’ (Jüri Uluots in 1944), Looming, 4, 1990. Aleksander Terras, Eesti riikliku järjepidevuse säilitamisest (On the preservation of the continuity of Estonian statehood). Pool sajandit eestlust paguluses (Half a century of the Estonian nation in exile). Edited by A. Horm, A. Mark, I. Olesk, O. Paju, A. Terras. Stockholm: Teataja, 1994. Herbert Lindmäe, ‘Professor Jüri Uluotsa poliitiline tegevus Saksa okupatsiooni ajal ja selle riigiõiguslik tähendus’, Juridica, 2, 2000. Lauri Mälksoo, ‘Eksiilvalitsusest New Yorgi peakonsulaadini: Eesti Vabariigi kontinuiteet ja selle säilimise põhjused rahvusvahelises õiguskorras’ (From the Government-in-Exile to the Consulate General in New York: Legal continuity of the Republic of Estonia and reasons for its persistence in international legal order), Juridica, 6, 2000. Mart Orav and Enn Nõu (eds), Tõotan ustavaks jääda . . .: Eesti Vabariigi Valitsus 1940–1992 (I swear to remain loyal . . .: Government of the Republic of Estonia 1940–1992). Tartu: Eesti Kirjanduse Selts, 2004. ‘J.Kaiv pooldab kesk-orgi. Ka eksiilvalitsus tuleks moodustada’ (J. Kaiv stands for the creation of the Estonian central organisation. There should also be established a Government-in-Exile), Eesti Post, 6 July 1952. Terras, op. cit. pp. 143–144. US Department of State. Memorandum of Conversation with Johannes Kaiv on 24 September 1952. NARA (US National Archives) RG59/760B/Box 3792. Johannes Kaiv to August Torma on 3 March 1953. ERA (Estonian National Archives) 1608-2-139, p. 97. Johannes Kaiv to Tõnis Kint on 9 November 1953. ERA. 1608-2-77, p. 34. Marshall Green to SD on 11 February 1953. NARA. RG 59/760B/Box 3792. For example, the State Department rejected several requests from Kaiv to move the Estonian Consulate-General from New York to Washington. In Washington, an Estonian embassy should have been created, but there was no legal Estonian government that could authorise this. Leaving New York would also have meant the closure of the Consulate-General, which would in turn have meant the discontinuation of the Estonian diplomatic representation in the USA. The State Department was also concerned that if an Estonian governmentin-exile were established it would push the Consulate-General to move to Washington and that this would disrupt the existing status quo and re-open discussion on the Baltic diplomatic missions in the USA more generally. The SD was of the opinion that this could also affect the position of the Latvian and Lithuanian embassies in Washington. (SD Memo on 19 April 1951. NARA. RG59/150/Box 5.) Perhaps State Department ofﬁcials were aware that in April 1940 the last constitutional Estonian government had decided to establish an embassy in Washington and to close the Consulate-General in New York (see Riigi Teataja, No. 35, 26 April 1940). This decision could have been used by the Estonian government-in-exile, if recognised by the USA, to change the status of the Estonian diplomatic representation in the USA. With the following letter, the British Foreign Ofﬁce informed Torma about the changed nature of the Estonian embassy in London: When recently it was decided to circulate revised copies of the Diplomatic List, the issue of which has for some time been suspended as a measure of economy in the use of paper, it was desirable and in fact necessary to take

142 V. Made into account the anomalous situation in which you and your Latvian and Lithuanian colleagues ﬁnd yourselves as the result of your having no Governments to represent /. . ./ On the other hand the new arrangement will not prevent you from continuing to enjoy the diplomatic privileges to which you have been accustomed. (R. Dinker to A. Torma on 6 August 1942. ERA. 1608-2-143, p. 6) 11 August Torma to Aleksander Warma on 7 February 1953. ERA 1608-2-139, p. 88. 12 August Torma to Johannes Kaiv 11 March 1953. ERA 1608-2-139, p. 106. 13 Speech by J. Kaiv to the Estonian National Committee in the USA on 30 November 1954. ERA 1608-2-77, p. 71. It was brieﬂy feared in New York during 1953 that political circles behind the Maurer exile government might move its seat from Germany to Canada, as Alfred Maurer named Johan Holberg from Toronto his Deputy Prime Minister. 14 For example on 2 January 1986, E. Jaakson wrote the following to John da Graca, a political scientist from Johannesburg who asked for information about the Estonian Government-in-Exile: There is no recognised Estonian Government-in-Exile. Several Estonian political groups have interpreted the Estonian constitution in various ways and as a consequence there have been differences of opinion about the constitutionality of any Government-in-Exile. One such group exists in Sweden where their activity is not permitted by the Swedish Government. The United States of America does not recognise any foreign Governmentin-Exile. I am not representing here any Estonian Government-in-Exile. The United States has accepted me as representative of the last legal government in Estonia. (ERA. 1608-2-82, p. 36)

15

16 17 18 19 20

21

See also Ernst Jaakson. E.V. esindused ja tunnustuse küsimus (Diplomatic missions of the Republic of Estonia and the question of recognition). A manuscript from 1975 published in Anne Velliste (ed.), Ernst Jaaksonile (To Ernst Jaakson), Tallinn: Eesti Entsüklopeediakirjastus, 2000, pp. 438–440. See, for example, Karlis Zarins to the US Department of State on 3 December 1954. NARA RG59/760C/Box 3793. Zarins was appointed Head of the Diplomatic Service by the last government of independent Latvia on 18 May 1940, and his position was subsequently recognised by the US State Department. See, for example, US Department of State. Memorandum of Conversation with Arnolds Spekke 8 June 1954. NARA RG59/760C/Box 3793. US Department of State to the US Embassy in Berlin on 13 September 1940. NARA. RG59/860m/Microﬁlm 1178/Roll 20. Headquarters of the Third US Army. Intelligence Center. Research Section APO 403. Memorandum 4 June 1945. NARA RG59/860n/Box 6624. US Department of State. Memorandum of Conversation with Povilas Zadeikis on 7 May 1954. NARA RG59/760D/Box 3793. ‘Estisk eksilregering oprettet i Oslo’ (Estonian Government-in-Exile being established in Oslo), Politiken, 24 January 1953. Stockholms Tidninger 23 January 1953, Svenska Tagbladet 24 January 1953. The declaration of the establishment of the Rei government in Oslo was ﬁrst published in Eesti Rahvusnõukogu Toimetised, 2, 1953. ‘Estnisk eksilregjering dannet på hemmelig møte i Oslo’ (Estonian Government-in-Exile was established in a secret meeting in Oslo), Verdens Gang, 23 January 1953.

The Estonian Government-in-Exile 143 22 Press-release of the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs on 31 January 1953. Norsk Riksarkivet (National Archives of Norway). Utenriksdepartement. De Baltiske land 1950–1959. Box 1023 (25.7–4). 23 Marshall Green to SD on 11 February 1953. NARA. RG59/760B/Box 3792. 24 Terras, op. cit. p. 144. 25 Ibid., pp. 152–154. 26 Mälksoo, op. cit. p. 392. 27 www.president.ee/est/riigipead.html. Another interesting footnote to the restoration of independence came in February 1992 when the dissident émigré movement Restitution called for power to be handed temporarily to the Government-in-Exile pending new elections under the terms of the 1938 constitution. Established Estonian political parties considered this challenge signiﬁcant enough to issue a joint statement in the press denying the need for such a move. See David J. Smith, Estonia: Independence and European Integration, London: Routledge, 2001, pp. 78–79. 28 Stefan Talmon. Recognition of governments in international law: With particular reference to governments in exile, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998, p. 14.

11 Émigrés, dissidents and international organisations Helen M. Morris and Vahur Made

Throughout the years of the Cold War, Baltic diplomats and émigré organisations in the West lobbied tirelessly to keep the Baltic question on the international agenda, as did dissident groups in the Baltic states themselves.1 As well as approaching individual state governments, these advocates of Baltic independence also courted supranational organisations such as the United Nations, the Conference Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) and the European Union. According to Ojars ¯ Eriks Kalnins, who was chief lobbyist for the American Latvian Association (ALA) in Washington, DC, from 1985 until 1991, targeting such organisations was an important complement to work with individual governments, not least because on occasion the only way to reach a regime was through international organisations such as the CSCE/OSCE (Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe).2 In Kalnins’ view, lobbying the US government, and Congress in particular, was relatively straightforward. By contrast, European countries tended to be less willing to confront the Soviet Union over an issue such as the Baltic states. Whereas direct communication with senior ﬁgures in, for example, the French, German or Dutch foreign ministries may have been challenging, if dissidents could get their message onto the CSCE agenda then foreign ministers were at least forced to acknowledge the issue. This point highlights how the goals of organisations such as the CSCE differed from the national interests of individual states. In instances where an organisation permitted some measure of NGO observer membership or involvement, groups such as the World Federation of Free Latvians were able to gain entry to the conferences, make presentations, submit papers or directly lobby members. In addition, larger public meetings such as Helsinki Final Act events attracted audiences and media attention, and Baltic groups were able to use these occasions to raise issues inside and outside the conference halls. Kalnins reported that more often than not demonstrations and other media-related activities rather than formal interventions served as the most effective means of getting the message across.3 At times when the Baltic groups were excluded from proceedings or were unable to secure a meeting with dele-

Émigrés, dissidents and IOs 145 gates, they relied upon public demonstrations. These protests in turn would raise media awareness. The press then tended to work as a proxy raising the Baltic issue at press conferences and during interviews with delegates. Examining Baltic representatives’ interactions with the UN, CSCE and EU shows what impact, if any, these interactions had on the eventual restoration of the three countries’ independence. Although acutely aware of the shortcomings of the League of Nations, Baltic émigré diplomats took a keen interest in the process that led to the establishment of the United Nations (UN) Organisation. For them, the UN constituted the kind of prominent international forum within which the attentions of the international community might be focused upon the Baltic issue. Ultimately, they hoped for a world organisation that might act as a guardian of the principles of international law and protector of the rights, independence and free existence of small nations. In the spring of 1945, when the US government convened the San Francisco Conference to discuss and ratify the UN Charter, Baltic diplomatic representatives Alfreds Bilmanis (Latvia), Povilas Zadeikis (Lithuania) and Johannes Kaiv (Estonia) approached Secretary of State Edward Stettinus with a request to participate at the conference. The appeal was unsuccessful, but it did at least demonstrate the Baltic nations’ desire to secure UN representation in their own right rather than as part of the Soviet Union.4 In the aftermath of the San Francisco conference, the Baltic diplomats continued to address to the United Nations Secretaries General, Presidents of General Assemblies, different UN commissions and bodies as well as delegations of various UN member states, appeals, proclamations and declarations concerning the Soviet occupation of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, as well as the acts of violence being carried out by the Soviet authorities in the three countries. Initially, each Baltic diplomatic representative approached the UN separately, but from 1947 joint communications were sent in the name of all three countries.5 In the course of the next 44 years, the UN received a vast number of communications concerning the Baltic question. These were presented by Baltic diplomatic missions in Washington and New York, by Baltic émigré organisations, resistance groups in the three countries themselves6 or US policy makers and diplomats. The Baltic Appeal to the United Nations (BATUN), formed in 1966, became the principal lobby group in this regard. BATUN’s activities reached their climax in 1990–1991, when the organisation deluged both the White House and the UN with information concerning the independence movements in the Baltic states, as well as petitions calling for the recognition of Baltic independence and UN membership for the three countries.7 Also highly active in supporting the Baltic cause in the UN and other international organisations was the Assembly of Captive European Nations (ACEN). Members of the US Congress also showed considerable activism in bringing the Baltic issue to UN attention. In 1953, for example, during

146 H.M. Morris and V. Made the Kersten Commission hearings on the events of 1939–1940, Soviet UN Ambassador Andrei Vyshinskii was invited to Congress to give the Soviet position on the matter – an invitation Vyshinskii did not accept. The following year, Senate approved a resolution demanding that US administrations continue to bring the Baltic issue to the attention of the UN. As a result, US representatives and diplomats tabled a number of resolutions and ofﬁcial communications in various UN sub-committees and commissions. In 1979, the House of Representatives demanded that the President place the Baltic issue on the UN agenda. The strongest response to these Congressional demands came in 1983 under the Reagan administration, when US Ambassador Jeane Kirkpatrick ofﬁcially reiterated the US policy of non-recognition in an ofﬁcial statement to Secretary-General Javier Perez de Cuellar. In spite of these numerous appeals, the presence of the USSR on the Security Council ensured that the Baltic question never ﬁgured on the ofﬁcial agenda of the UN during the period of the Cold War. This reality was fully acknowledged in a memorandum on ‘The UN and the Baltic States’, presented in 1965 by Johannes Kaiv, Estonian Consul-General in New York. According to Kaiv, over half of the UN member states were unwilling to take a position on the Baltic question. In his view, the issue could not be tackled directly within the UN, but only as an element in more general discussions around colonialism, genocide and human rights.8 Kaiv’s views clearly corresponded to those of the US State Department, in that US diplomats who raised the Baltic issue at the UN used exactly the same tactics envisaged in the memorandum. Thus, the Baltic issue tended to crop up whenever human rights, colonialism, genocide and other related issues were debated in various UN bodies. The various communications from within the Baltic states might only have had an indirect impact at the UN, but they did ﬁnd resonance within other international organisations. A good example in this regard was the joint appeal made by Baltic dissidents on the occasion of the fortieth anniversary of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact, which called upon the United Nations to denounce the illegal Soviet occupation of the Baltic states.9 This initiative was at the root of the 1983 resolution by the European Parliament calling for the restoration of Baltic independence, which became an important reference point for the work of the Baltic organisations in Europe.10 Imants Liegis, who as European representative for the Baltic World Council was chieﬂy responsible for lobbying the European Parliament and Council of Europe, sought to build on this resolution as a means of encouraging further parliamentary declarations. Liegis readily acknowledged that the European Parliament had only limited political signiﬁcance, but maintained that lobbying Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) did have the potential to inﬂuence member states.11 More signiﬁcant to the Baltic cause was the CSCE Final Act, which, as well as emphasising security issues, ultimately put human rights more

Émigrés, dissidents and IOs 147 ﬁrmly on the international agenda.12 This signiﬁcance was not immediately apparent at the outset. Countries in Western Europe and North America continued to back Baltic independence during the CSCE process, but had to balance international law with the need to contend with the threat from Moscow and the Warsaw Pact.13 Thus, while US State Department ofﬁcials granted an audience to Baltic representatives, and French President Giscard d’Estaing presented the Baltic case to the assembly, lobbying and demonstrations by Latvians, Estonians and Lithuanians had little discernible impact in Helsinki. The arrest of Lithuanian and Latvian delegates Uldis Grava, Joseph Valinuas and Aina Teivens in Helsinki in August 1975 at the behest of the Soviet delegation generated ‘some good publicity’, particularly after the US Embassy and others intervened to get the delegates released. However, Baltic émigré groupings were disappointed that the US delegation did not voice support for Baltic independence, despite promises made on the eve of the conference.14 Similar efforts by Baltic representatives to highlight their countries’ fate at follow-up meetings held in Belgrade in 197815 and Madrid in 198016 also failed to gain wider public recognition. During the tenth anniversary of the signing of the Helsinki Final Act, émigré groups arranged a number of events. On 25 and 26 July 1985, a Baltic tribunal was convened in Copenhagen. This comprised distinguished public ﬁgures from Austria, Sweden, France and Great Britain. They heard eyewitness accounts of Soviet crimes against the Baltic peoples and issued a manifesto declaring that the current situation in the Baltic states was intolerable and a threat to peace.17 The Baltic Peace and Freedom Cruise held during the same month was described by one contemporary observer as the most creative and effective public relations campaign ever waged by diaspora Balts. The purpose of the Cruise, which set sail from Stockholm, travelled south through the international waters of the Baltic Sea ‘as close to Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania as the ship’s skipper dared’, and stopped over in Helsinki before returning to Stockholm, was to call public attention to the plight of the Baltic states on the forty-ﬁfth anniversary of their occupation. The cruise was also scheduled to coincide with ceremonies in Helsinki marking the tenth anniversary of the Helsinki Final Act, by which the Soviets had pledged to ameliorate some of the effects of their occupation.18 On 29 July, following the arrival of the Baltic Star in Stockholm demonstrations and a Baltic Futures Seminar were held.19 The émigrés and dissidents were aware that their activities alone could not change the global political system. The lobbyists received sympathetic hearings from politicians, but considerations of realpolitik meant that the latter would back off when it came to actually doing something. The campaigners therefore based their strategy upon reacting to international political and economic events and using them to further their cause. The groups seized every opportunity that offered itself, lending support to

148 H.M. Morris and V. Made Soviet human rights activists and dissidents even if these were not directly involved in Baltic issues. The idea was that by supporting human rights in general they were able to call attention to the speciﬁc situation in the Baltic states.20 The emergence of Solidarnord in Poland was the ﬁrst major boost to the efforts of the Baltic campaigners. The fall of the Berlin Wall, the Czech Velvet Revolution and other events further strengthened their cause. The lobbyists no longer felt isolated in their campaigning, believing that opposition to Soviet/Communist rule was rising. The Baltic groups worked closely with what Ojars Kalnins called other ‘Captive Nations’ groups in the USA and Europe, supporting them and soliciting their support in return. As the Soviet Union began to disintegrate the Baltic groups also sought to support dissident leaders in the other Soviet Republics. Kalnins for his part said that he always thought the Baltic states would not get independence on their own, but would need to rely upon the collapse of the Soviet Union itself. Therefore, the groups did all that they could to encourage that collapse at all levels.21 The treatment of the lobbyists by others changed over time. According to Kalnins, in the early 1980s they were looked upon as a radical fringe of quixotic anti-communists. Their concerns met with sympathy, but were not taken seriously, because at that time the only really vocal objection to Soviet rule was coming from émigré groups outside the USSR. It was not until real human rights and pro-independence movements emerged within the Baltic states that outside organisations were forced to start taking them seriously. This recognition came with a realisation that the émigré lobbying groups were closely allied with the dissident groups within the Baltic countries such as the Helsinki-86 organisation that was formed in Latvia to demand the securing of the rights outlined in the 1975 Helsinki Agreement.22 As Kalnins put it, suddenly they were no longer amateur weekend political activists, but real spokesmen, contacts and representatives of genuine movements. Glasnost’ had assisted them a great deal, because it had enabled Baltic dissidents to travel outside the Baltic states and attend these meetings. Once international organisations saw that the exiles were teamed up with committed in-country activists, they realised something serious was happening. Kalnins claimed that they gained credibility because all the things they had been saying and claiming for years were suddenly proving to be true.23 While the Baltic question gained in immediacy, however, the long-standing tension between principle and realpolitik became even more apparent, as Imants Liegis discovered in his dealings with the European Parliament and the Council of Europe. In 1988, the European Parliament adopted a further resolution referring to the policy of non-recognition. Lithuania’s subsequent declaration of independence and its ensuing standoff with Moscow promoted a ﬂurry of reaction, including two declarations by EU foreign ministers and a European Parliament statement on Soviet troop movements in the

Émigrés, dissidents and IOs 149 country.24 However, there was a strong indication that preservation of Gorbachev rather than Baltic independence topped the agenda.25 In this regard, Liegis expressed particular frustration with Ken Coates, Socialist Grouping MEP and Chairman of the parliamentary sub-committee on Human Rights, whom he accused of blocking a proper parliamentary debate on the Baltic question.26 While Coates reacted tersely to this accusation, he reportedly claimed that even extending humanitarian and economic aid to the Baltic states would amount to recognition and would cause problems for Gorbachev.27 He said that his group was in favour of self-determination, but that this could only be pursued through negotiations with Moscow.28 Coates’ caution exempliﬁed a wider concern that showing overt support to the Baltic states might jeopardise relations with Gorbachev.29 When the Council of Europe Committee on Relations with European non-member states met in Paris on 7 December 1990, its chairman Guy Dufour stated in his report that the Baltic states had a claim to independence under international law, but as they were still occupied territories could not be treated as sovereign states. He therefore argued that the three republics should be given observer status at the Council of European Municipalities and regions. The Baltic World Council was reluctant to accept this guest status, as it would run the risk of transforming the Baltic question into a regional problem rather than an issue of international law. Dufour’s report also emphasised that the Balts’ campaign for independence could jeopardise the reform of the Soviet Union and precipitate military intervention. This assessment came hard on the heels of the unsuccessful attempt by the Baltic states to gain observer status at the 19–21 November 1990 CSCE Summit, when the three Baltic leaders were eventually ejected from the proceedings following a belligerent speech by Gorbachev.30 The Baltic leaders were, however, able to address a Joint Statement to the CSCE participants. There was also growing concern at this time over the Soviet blockade of Lithuania. In the wake of the Paris summit, the Italian presidency of the EEC sent a message to the Soviet Union underlining the policy of non-recognition. Estonian Foreign Minister Lennart Meri and his Latvian counterpart Janis Jurkans visited the European Parliament and the Council of Europe at the invitation of Steven Biller, a member of the Secretariat of the European Democratic Group. The Ministers addressed the Christian Democrat Group and referred to the fact that they had been ejected from the Paris CSCE meeting that week. Jurkans talked of the crisis in Latvia and expressed concerns about their treatment in Paris and Gorbachev’s speech of 17 November 1990. Meri for his part argued that rather than simply speaking about freedom, action should be taken. The President of the Parliament, however, felt that a Baltic representation in the Parliament would raise problems given that a Soviet delegation was already present in Strasbourg.31

150 H.M. Morris and V. Made The Baltic lobbyists struggled to get action rather than simply supportive words. Liegis received sympathetic replies to his appeals from Geoffrey Hoon, then MEP for Derbyshire and Ashﬁeld, who agreed to take the arguments into consideration when looking at the forthcoming month’s list of urgencies.32 Some MEPs simply sent holding letters stating that they had taken Liegis’ point of view on board but made no commitment to further debates or support of urgent motions.33 Two rule 63 motions for resolution submitted by Von Habsburg, the instigator of the 1983 declaration, and Newton-Dunn did not go through.34 Christopher Beazley of the European Democratic groups tabled an urgency motion, which Liegis used in an attempt to get support from other groups. However, the motion failed to get onto the agenda.35 Liegis nevertheless continued his intensive lobbying of the European Parliament. He pressed the Political Affairs Committee to prepare a report on the Baltic states and to arrange either a public or internal hearing, sought to establish a parliamentary delegation for relations with the Baltic states, requested that the Parliament and the European Community deal directly with the Baltic governments, particularly in discussions over aid, and tried to acquire support for de facto independence.36 Despite setbacks the Baltic states were ﬁnding their way onto the agenda of the political groupings at the European Parliament.37 By the end of 1990, the three countries had acquired the use of an information ofﬁce in Brussels. However, there were problems with stafﬁng. The Christian Democrats had used it as their Central American ofﬁce, but as this was no longer required they offered it to the Baltic states until the end of 1991. Liegis reported that upon meeting Andreas Hartman, a close adviser to the leader of the Christian Democratic Party in the European Parliament Egon Klepsch, it was suggested that the ofﬁce retain a low proﬁle. It was to be a Christian Democratic Ofﬁce manned by Christian Democratic representatives from the Baltic states rather than a Baltic Information Ofﬁce. In keeping with this advice, the ofﬁce located on Hotel des Monnaies could be accessed by pressing a bell marked ‘Centro America’. In the meantime, a meeting with the Commission had confirmed that its approach was still to deal with the Soviet Union as a whole rather than through the republics.38 The Baltic issue had come up during highlevel contact due to concern being expressed over the situation in Lithuania; an intensive mission from the Commission had included a visit to Estonia. Materials submitted by the Baltic Foreign Ministers to the CSCE participants had also filtered through. Sir Russell Johnson of the Council of Europe raised concern over the Russian population in Latvia and questioned whether there was potential for racial disorder. At this stage, there would be no direct economic aid to the Baltic states, but humanitarian aid and a request for medical supplies could be addressed.39

Émigrés, dissidents and IOs 151 The reluctance of the West to undermine Gorbachev’s position meant that de facto independence would have to await further political developments within the USSR. The Estonian and Latvian declarations of independence adopted during the abortive Moscow coup of August 1991 were promptly recognised by Yeltsin’s Russia, which had earlier signalled its recognition of Lithuania’s independence. At an extraordinary European Political Cooperation (EPC) ministerial meeting in Brussels on 27 August 1991, the European Community and its Member States conﬁrmed their decision to establish diplomatic relations with the Baltic states. On 8–9 September, two days after recognition had been granted by the Soviet central government, Vice-President Andriessen led a delegation to Tallinn where he held discussions with the prime ministers and ministers of foreign affairs, economy and foreign trade of the three Baltic states.40 Just over a week later, the three countries were admitted to the United Nations, with CSCE membership following in October.41 All three countries promptly applied for membership of the Council of Europe in September 1991. Accession to this organisation, though, was a more protracted process, requiring the three countries to demonstrate compliance with requirements related to the rule of law, a genuine pluralistic society and universal enjoyment of human rights.42 Estonia and Lithuania were granted entry in May 1993, but Latvian membership was deferred due to the latter’s delay in adopting a citizenship law and conﬁrming the legal status of the large non-citizen population created after the legal continuity of inter-war independence was conﬁrmed in August 1991.43 As this process demonstrated only too clearly, the ‘Baltic question’ did not end with the restoration of independence. In their quest for Council of Europe membership, both Estonia and Latvia had to contend with ﬁerce opposition from Russia, which has used international organisations in an attempt to secure a reversal of citizenship legislation in the two countries. Russia’s vigorous efforts within the CSCE to link issues of human rights to the question of troop withdrawal came to naught during 1992–1993, as the Baltic states were ultimately able to put their message across within this organisation. Agencies such as the OSCE, the Council of Europe and – most especially – the EU have subsequently intervened actively over issues of citizenship and nationality in Estonia and Latvia, and yet none of these bodies has called into question the doctrine of legal continuity underpinning the post-1991 independence of the three Baltic states. As the Baltic activists of the Cold War era freely admit, lobbying organisations alone were not sufﬁcient to achieve independence. Nevertheless, such lobbying ensured that the Baltic question remained on the international agenda, helping to bring about prompt recognition on the basis of legal continuity and arguably strengthening the ability of the Baltic states to get their message across once they had actually entered the organisations in question.

152 H.M. Morris and V. Made

Notes 1 Hough, William J.H., III. ‘The Annexation of the Baltic States and its Effect on the Development of Law Prohibiting Forcible Seizure of Territory’, New York Law School Journal of International and Comparative Law, 6, 2, Winter 1985, pp. 301–333. Falk Lange. ‘The Baltic States and the CSCE’, Journal of Baltic Studies, 25, 3, Fall 1994, p. 233. 2 Personal Correspondence with Ojars Eriks Kalnins, Director Latvian Institute Riga, from 1985 to 1991. Kalnins was the chief lobbyist for the American Latvian Association (ALA) in Washington, DC, 10 August 2005. The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe was formed in the 1970s and met as a series of conferences. It has developed into a permanent institutionalised arrangement. The First Review Conference in Budapest 10 October–2 December 1994, decided that, from 1 January 1995, the CSCE should be renamed the Organisation on Security and Cooperation in Europe. 3 Personal Correspondence with Ojars Eriks Kalnins, op. cit. 4 Letters to Edward Stettinus from Alfreds Bilmanis (19 March 1945), Povilas Zadeikis (03 April 1945) and Johannes Kaiv (06 April 1945). ERA. 1608-2-243, pp. 21, 23–25, 26–28. 5 See, for example, Appeal of the representatives of the Baltic nations to the General Assembly of the United Nations: jointly presented on 24 November 1947 by the envoys of the three Baltic states – Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia – in Washington to His Excellency Dr Osvaldo Aranha, President of the General Assembly of the United Nations. Flushing Meadows, New York, 1947. 6 In these cases, the documents were smuggled out of the USSR and reached the UN via émigré organisations or diplomatic missions. Perhaps one document among the many should be particularly mentioned. A letter from Konstantin Päts, Estonian Presdident 1938–1940, written most probably in the 1950s in Kazan mental hospital where Soviet authorities detained Päts before his death. Päts handed the letter over to a Lithuanian detainee who survived the imprisonment, returned to Lithuania and handed the letter over to his relatives in Canada in 1977. Relatives managed to smuggle letter out from Lithuania and delivered it to Ernst Jaakson, Estonian Consul-General in New York. Jaakson published the letter in 1977 and, as it was addressed to UN’s SecretaryGeneral, communicated it to Kurt Waldheim’s ofﬁce. Ernst Jaakson. Eestile, p. 190. 7 Heino Ainso, ‘BATUN ja Baltimaade vastuvõtmine ÜROsse’ (BATUN and admission of the Baltic states to the UN), Looming, 2, 1997, pp. 228–237. 8 Memorandum ‘The UN and Baltic States’. Presented by J. Kaiv to the meeting of Baltic diplomatic representatives in Washington, DC on 1 October 1965. ERA 1608-2-667, pp. 157–160. 9 Aleksandras Shtromas, ‘The Baltic States as Soviet Republics: Tensions and Contradictions’, in Graham Smith (ed.), The Baltic States: The National SelfDetermination of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, London: Macmillan, 1996, pp. 104–106; Romuald Misiunas and Rein Taagepera, The Baltic States: Years of Dependence 1940–1990, expanded and updated edition, London: Hurst, 1993, p. 264; Anatol Lieven, The Baltic Revolution: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania and the Path to Independence, 2nd edn, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994, p. 105. 10 The resolution was tabled by Otto von Habsburg and the European Christian Democrats and Conservatives in response to the dissident appeal. 11 Personal correspondence from Imants Liegis, 10 August 2006. 12 Personal communication from Kalnins. 13 Baltic Tribunal Against the Soviet Union, published by the World Federation of Free Latvians, edited by Ingrida Kalnins, 1985; Lituanus, Lithuanian Quarterly

Émigrés, dissidents and IOs 153

14 15

16

17 18

19 20 21 22

23 24

25

26

Journal Of Arts And Sciences, Vol. 21, No. 3, Fall 1975, Editors of this issue: Antanas Klimas, Thomas Remeikis, Bronius Vaskelis, 1975 Lituanus Foundation, Inc., Estonian And Latvian Memorandum To The Conference On Security And Cooperation – 1975, Editorial Note: The following Memorandum, signed in Tallinn – Riga by representatives of the Estonian and Latvian Democrats, dated 17 June 1975 – the thirty-ﬁfth anniversary of the occupation of Estonia and Latvia – was recently received in the West. It is reprinted without editorial corrections. Lange, op. cit., p. 234. Baltic Tribunal Against the Soviet Union, op. cit.; Concluding Document of the Belgrade Meeting 1977 of Representatives of the Participating States of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe, Held on the Basis of the Provisions of the Final Act Relating to the Follow-Up to the Conference, Belgrade, 8 March 1978. Baltic Tribunal Against the Soviet Union, op. cit.; Concluding Document of the Madrid Meeting 1980 of Representatives of the Participating States of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe, Held on the Basis of the Provisions of the Final Act Relating to the Follow-Up to the Conference, Madrid, 6 September 1983. Baltic Tribunal Against the Soviet Union, op. cit.; Copenhagen Manifesto, 26 July 1985, signed by Theodor Veiter, Per Ahlmark, Rev. Michael Bourdeaux, Jean-Marie Daillet, Sir James Fawcett. Victor A Nakas, ‘The Beginnings Of A Baltic-Scandinavian Understanding’, Lituanus, Lithuanian Quarterly Journal Of Arts And Sciences, 31, 4, Winter 1985, Editor of this issue: Antanas V. Dundzila, Lituanus Foundation, Inc. Nakas reported that there was not enough room on the Baltic Star, the vessel that carried the cruise participants, to accommodate all the journalists who wanted to cover the event. Approximately 70 journalists accompanied the 300 Baltic passengers. Falk, op. cit., p. 235. Personal Correspondence with Ojars Eriks Kalnins, op. cit. Ibid. Helsinki-86 articulated many of the demands later made by the Latvian Popular Front, and organised the protest at the Riga Freedom Monument on 14 June 1987 in commemoration of the mass deportations of 1941. Dzintra Bungs, ‘Baltic Area Situation Report/2’, Radio Free Europe Research Report, 16 February 1988, pp. 11–15. Personal Correspondence with Ojars Eriks Kalnins, op. cit. Statement by the Twelve on the Situation in Lithuania, undated. Declaration by the Twelve on Lithuania, Dublin, 21 April 1990. European Parliament Lithuanian joint resolution replacing Docs. B3–737 and 761/90, PE 139.833, 5 April 1990. Letter from the President of the Republic of France François Mitterrand and the Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany Helmut Kohl To the President of the Supreme Council of the Republic of Lithuania Vytautas Landsbergis, Paris, 26 April 1990; Letter from Vytautas Landsbergis President of the Supreme Soviet of the Republic of Lithuania Vilnius, 2 May 1990 to Helmut Kohl Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany; Letter from Vytautas Landsbergis President of the Supreme Soviet of the Republic of Lithuania to François Mitterrand President of the Republic of France, Vilnius, 2 May 1990. Letter from G. de Vries, A. Capucho, Patrick Cox, N.A. Kofoed to Henrique Baron Crespo President of the European Parliament, 19 April 1990; Amnesty International Statement, USSR: Lithuanians arrested for refusing to serve in the Soviet Army, EUR 46/WU, 12/90, External, 28 March 1990. Report on Imants Liegis’ visit to Brussels, 19–22 March 1990; Letter from

154 H.M. Morris and V. Made

27 28

29 30

31 32 33 34 35 36

37

38 39 40 41 42

Imants Liegis to Ken Coates MEP, 30 March 1990; Letter from Imants Liegis to Ken Coates MEP, 25 May 1990. Letter from Ken Coates MEP, Derbyshire, EPPE Group, to Imants Liegis. 6 June 1990. Report of meeting between Imants Liegis and Ken Coates, May 1990. Letter from Ken Coates MEP to Imants Liegis, 4 July 1990. At this time, Liegis reported meetings with MEPs who lacked detailed information about events in the Baltic states. Notes from Imants Liegis’ visit to Strasbourg and Brussels, 10–14 December 1990. Report on meeting between Imants Liegis and Patrick Cox, Strasbourg June 1990. US Department of State Dispatch Supplement, Vol. 2, No. 3, July 1991, President’s 29th CSCE Report, ‘Implementation of the Helsinki Final Act, 1 April 1990–31 March 1991’, President Bush, Text submitted to Congress, Washington, DC, 3 June 1991. Letter from Imants Liegis to P. Sager, 27 November 1990. Hand written note form Imants Liegis to Brief the Baltic Foreign Ministers prior to their November 1990 visit to the European Parliament Strasbourg. The President Offers His Program. Speech of M.S. Gorbachev at the USSR Supreme Soviet, 17 November 1990. Visit by the Baltic States Foreign Ministers, 22 November 1990, European Parliament Strasbourg; Lennart Meri Estonia, Janis Jurkans Latvia, Algirdas Saudargas, Lithuania, President of the European Parliament Baron Crespo. Letter from Geoffrey Hoon MEP for Derbyshire and Ashﬁeld, EPPE Group, to Imants Liegis, 5 June 1990. Letter from Alan Donnelly MEP to Imants Liegis, Jarrow, EPPE Group, 6 June 1990. Notes from Imants Liegis visit to Strasbourg, 18–23 November 1990. Motion for Resolution pursuant to Rule 63 of the Procedure for topical and urgent debate, tabled by Christopher Beazley on behalf of the European Democratic Group, subject Baltic states, November 1990. Letter from Imants Liegis to Mathilde van den Brink, vice-chairman of the Political Affairs Committee, European Parliament, 21 June 1990; Hand written note form: Imants Liegis to Brief the Baltic Foreign Ministers prior to their November 1990 visit to the European Parliament Strasbourg. Draft Resolution on the Baltic States according to rule 63 of the Rules of Procedure, presented by Habsburg et autres (fax copy dated 19 June 1990); Final Resolution on ‘Peace and Disarmament’, Green Parliament of Europe, Strasbourg 3–5 July 1990; John Pinder lobbying at the 13th European Liberal, Democratic and Reform Parties Congress, Shannon, Ireland, 7–8 June 1990; urgency resolution also tabled at the conference; letter from Sir Christopher Prout MEP to Edgar Savisaar, Prime Minister of Estonia invitation to Copenhagen meeting of European People’s Party to discuss the Baltic states, letter 17 May 1990, meeting 8 June 1990. Report on Imants Liegis’ visit to Brussels, October 1990. Ibid. Commission of the European Communities, Report from the Commission to the Council: Cooperation with Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, SEC (91) 1787 Final, Brussels, 26 September 1991. A/RES/46/5 1st plenary meeting 17 September 1991, General Assembly of the United Nations. Margaret Killerby, ‘Steps taken by the Council of Europe to Promote the Modernization of the Nationality Laws of European States’, in Síofra O’Leary and Teija Tiilikainen, Citizenship and Nationality Status in the New Europe, London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1998.

Émigrés, dissidents and IOs 155 43 Interview with Ole Espersen Commissioner of the Council of the Baltic Sea States on Democratic Institutions and Human Rights, Including the Rights of Persons Belonging to Minorities, Copenhagen, 12 October 1999. In 1991, Ole Espersen was a member of the Council of Europe Parliamentary Assembly and the rapporteur on Latvia. He stated that one of the reasons Latvia gained Council of Europe membership later than Estonia and Lithuania was the initial lack of a Citizenship Law followed by the imposition of 0.1 per cent quotas. See also Council of Europe Parliamentary Assembly, Information Report on the Elections in Latvia 5 and 6 June 1993, 10 December 1993, Doc. 6908.

12 Between political rhetoric and Realpolitik calculations Western diplomacy and the Baltic independence struggle in the Cold War endgame1 Kristina Spohr Readman

The unforeseen collapse of communist Eastern Europe, the re-uniﬁcation of Germany and the fall of Gorbachev and the Soviet Union prompted an outpouring of publications on the end of the Cold War. Given the decisive role played by the Baltic Republics in the transformation, disintegration and collapse of the USSR, a relatively sizeable literature has also appeared on the Baltic independence struggle. Yet, Baltic events have invariably been studied primarily as intra-Soviet developments and as examples of local (ethno)nationalism and people power. Since many recent histories of the Baltic can be viewed as part of a nation-building process they are often placed within the grand narrative of nationalist liberation, in isolation from the wider international context of the Cold War endgame.2 The international aspects of the Baltic independence struggle have invariably been mentioned merely in passing in the literature on the ending of the Cold War, on German uniﬁcation and on Soviet disintegration.3 Only recently has any serious attempt been made to close this gap. In his substantial article on the impact of the revolutions in Eastern Europe on the Soviet Union, Mark Kramer suggested that the Baltic independence movements and the turmoil in Eastern Europe not only emboldened Baltic Popular Fronts, but later, the post-Communist governments actively supported Baltic leaders in their political pursuit of independent statehood.4 ‘Crises in Eastern Europe spilled over, both directly and indirectly, into the Soviet Union and contributed, at least in some small way, to the destabilisation of the Soviet state’,5 he concluded, illustrating the important connection between international and domestic developments. Yet with regard to Baltic aspirations to sovereignty and statehood and their impact on the Union, the international dimension should not be restricted to Eastern Europe. The re-appearance of the three Baltic states on Europe’s map was not just the result of Eastern European support, and the danger of disintegration which the Baltic issue forced upon the USSR was not solely reinforced by Eastern European actions. While the inﬂu-

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ence of Eastern Europe on Baltic and more widely on Soviet developments was certainly signiﬁcant, it was the policies of Western governments that were crucial to the Baltic peoples’ fate. In comparison with other intra-Soviet secessionist movements, the independence struggles of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania had a truly international dimension – a dimension that put the West as much as the Kremlin in a delicate position. The efforts of the Baltic Republics to reestablish statehood were based on the universal right of peoples to selfdetermination, and most important, on the decades-long Western policy of de jure non-recognition of Soviet annexation. The West thus had to tread a ﬁne line between managing its pro-Gorbachev Soviet policies (which indirectly meant supporting the cohesion of the Union) and holding onto its diplomatic credibility internationally by remaining committed to its Cold War political rhetoric (thus potentially undermining Soviet unity). This dilemma was more acute in that the Western powers also had to consider the consequences of their Baltic actions for other important ongoing processes in international relations. These included the negotiations on arms reduction and the international aspects of German uniﬁcation, as well as the diplomacy on military engagement in the Iraq–Kuwait crisis. Jeremi Suri pointed out that there were simultaneously ‘many complex social, political, and military interactions that produced [. . .] rapid international and domestic change’.6 Certainly, in order to further our understanding of the politics of how and why the Cold War endgame unfolded as it did and the USSR collapsed, we need to look more closely at the interconnectedness of numerous processes shaping events and adopt a more international perspective. These processes included nationalism; people power versus revolution from above; spill-over between domestic and international affairs; international law and norms; Realpolitik calculations; ideology; personal politics and statecraft; economic bargaining and the factor of contingency. The Baltic arena during the years 1989–1991 thus provides a valuable case study. Moreover, conclusions of larger signiﬁcance can be drawn from the Baltic story – on the relationship between political rhetoric and foreign policymaking. The West’s problem as far as the Baltic countries were concerned was that its Cold War rhetoric, which had been consonant for four decades with its Realpolitik, gradually became dissonant with the latter as the Cold War thawed. Yet, with the Baltic Popular Fronts constantly pointing to Western words, the West’s credibility was at stake, locking them into some kind of political commitment. In this light, the lack of attention to the international dimension of the Baltic independence struggle is all the more puzzling. Based on declassiﬁed Western and Soviet source material, memoirs and on new evidence from the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic’s (SSR’s) ‘foreign ministry’ ﬁles and those of the Estonian Communist Party, this

158 K. Spohr Readman chapter examines the Baltic quest for statehood in the context of international diplomacy, and explores the extent to which Western policies had any direct inﬂuence on the Soviet Union’s collapse. It concludes by utilising the Baltic case study to make some wider observations on the relationship between rhetoric and policy in international history.

From internal to international problem: reforms, people power and legal aspects After coming to power in March 1985, Gorbachev’s implementation of economic and political reform policies opened the ﬂoodgates to radical change in the Soviet empire, ultimately allowing among other things the public rediscovery of history, heritage and culture in a national context.7 In the Baltic, the open afﬁrmation of non-Soviet identity fuelled the emergence of organised single-issue opposition movements,8 such as the environmental lobby.9 As liberalisation gained pace during the last two years of the 1980s, inchoate Baltic movements for renewal and reform became politicised. ‘Popular Fronts’ were established (Rahvarinne in Estonia, Tautas Fronte in Latvia and Sajudis in Lithuania), out of which grew a variety of parties.10 Ironically, the Baltic Popular Fronts were born as movements in support of Gorbachev’s reforms, aiming at the effective implementation of the Kremlin’s programme for economic and political restructuring. To this end, their goal was to attain sovereignty in all areas of the Republics’ life within the context of the Soviet federation.11 Crucially, the creation of Popular Fronts and political parties was not forbidden by the Centre. This was partly because these organisations initially remained committed to the USSR, and partly because the Baltic was considered a particularly receptive area for the Kremlin’s reform programmes. Indeed, it was hoped that these SSRs could serve as a successful showcase for perestroika and glasnost’. However, by making the Baltic peoples part of the unpredictable experiment of political and socio-economic reform, while simultaneously ignoring Baltic initiatives and failing to grant any signiﬁcant powers of self-management, Moscow’s policies looked hollow and only assisted Baltic arguments for real national independence.12 Graham Smith rightly argued that developments among the Baltic nations therefore caused Soviet plans to backﬁre. Instead of reinforcing the legitimacy of Moscow’s rule in these least sovietised of republics, the processes evolved in exactly the opposite direction – towards secessionism. Gorbachev failed to see how dangerous their actions could be for the very existence of the Soviet Union. Indeed, in private he stated that Baltic secessionist moves were deluded and naïve, and declared that the three republics would ‘perish, when they cut themselves off from the rest of the Union’.13 The one nationality which he feared could undermine the Soviet Union was Russia, whose ‘great power “undercurrents” [potenstsii]

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[. . .] [were] “rumbling” menacingly’.14 Much worse, the Soviet leader did not appear to understand the degree to which he actually stimulated Baltic separatist actions.15 Gorbachev’s address to the UN General Assembly of 7 December 1988, in which he propagated ‘freedom of choice’ and the abolition of the ‘Brezhnev Doctrine’, certainly boosted Baltic moves towards independence – even if the speech was intended for audiences in Warsaw Pact states and the West, rather than for Soviet Republics.16 Crucially, Gorbachev’s public outspokenness (especially as regards the rejection of Soviet military interventionism) at a global forum such as the UN turned his words into an issue of personal credibility as he sought improved relations with the West. The Baltic peoples as much as the Eastern Europeans placed their trust in the ‘guarantee’ that force would not be used, hoping that Gorbachev was being genuine.17 The overwhelming victories in the elections to the USSR Congress of People’s Deputies in the Baltic SSRs by Popular Front candidates during spring 1989 underscored the old political system’s demise, and underpinned the shift of goals from ‘reform’ to ‘sovereign statehood’. Moscow failed to respond to the election results in any constructive way. Indeed, the only serious reaction by the Soviet leadership was to express objections to the new reformist laws in those Republics.18 Nevertheless, at a Politburo meeting in May 1989 Gorbachev emphasised his continuing commitment to the repudiation of violence, having recently criticised the killing of nineteen unarmed demonstrators by Soviet army troops in Georgia. Although he was by now acutely aware of the challenge that the elected Popular Front deputies in Moscow presented for the cohesion of the USSR, he retained his belief that the Baltic issue could be resolved within the context of the existing Union, concluding that: We cannot equal the Popular Fronts which are supported by 90% of the population of the Republics, with extremists. And we should learn how to talk with them. . . . Trust the people’s common sense. . . . Do not be afraid of experiments with full economic self-accounting [khozraschet] of the Republics. . . . Do not be afraid of differentiation among Republics according to the level of practiced sovereignty. . . . And after all: think, think how in practice to transform our federation. Otherwise everything would really collapse.19 Still, there was for Gorbachev a clear distinction between foreign and domestic affairs. He personally was willing to let the states of the ‘outer Soviet empire’ go their own way, and he agreed with the foreign ministry that ‘military force is to be excluded, even in the most extreme situation’ in Eastern Europe, because the use of force would ‘contradict international norms in the sphere of human rights’, and thus ‘would lead to

160 K. Spohr Readman the isolation of the Soviet Union in the international arena’.20 Gorbachev of course knew that his peaceful granting of ‘freedom of choice’ would earn him huge respect among Western leaders, with whom he was anxiously seeking to improve relations not least for the beneﬁt of the Soviet economy.21 At the same time, despite his more liberal foreign policy and his universalist, humanitarian rhetoric, he was ﬁrm on the issue of keeping the USSR intact. At bottom, his logic was that the Baltic problem was an internal one, and that his liberalisation policies inside the Union would eventually make the Republics realise that being tied to the centre was the most attractive option. This view was doubly ﬂawed. On the one hand, Gorbachev had no clear strategy as to how to further implement perestroika policies in the face of rising secessionism; and, on the other hand, he ignored the importance of history, the strength of nationalism and people power, international and internal spill-over effects, and crucially the signiﬁcance of international law.22 Indeed, what turned the Baltic case from an acute political issue within the USSR into an international one was the nationalists’ appeal to the rule of law. Western governments had stressed the ‘people’s right to selfdetermination’ and their ‘non-recognition’ of Baltic incorporation into the USSR for a number of decades. As the Eastern European communist regimes collapsed, the Balts began to look for Western support, and did so by appealing to the language of peoples seeking to regain an independence that had been illegally taken away from them – in this case as a consequence of the 1939 Hitler–Stalin Pact. The fact that the Baltic states were forcefully incorporated in the USSR and that this annexation was subsequently not recognised by the Western powers made their sovereignty claims signiﬁcantly different from those of other SSRs.23 Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians spectacularly reminded the world of the fateful Nazi–Soviet agreement by commemorating its ﬁftieth anniversary with a 400-mile human chain between Tallinn and Vilnius. The response from Moscow was harshly critical, with a public statement by the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) Central Committee (CC) of 26 August ﬁrmly ruling out any change of status of the Baltic SSRs.24 Yet, eventually, there was some movement in Moscow’s position. On 24 December 1989, the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies ofﬁcially declared the secret protocols of the Hitler–Stalin Pact as legally null and void, thus airing the historical truth about the existence and content of the Pact for the ﬁrst time. However, no direct link was made between the Pact, the forced annexation of the Baltic states and their present status, enabling the Kremlin to continue denying the unlawfulness of the Baltic states’ annexation.25 Clearly, the display of people power in the Soviet satellites exhilarated Baltic opinion and independence ﬁnally seemed plausible. Poland especially had an impact on Lithuania as contacts were intensiﬁed between the

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new Solidarnord-led Polish government and Sajudis.26 Yet, links such as these had complications for the Baltic situation. If until then – at least hypothetically – Moscow retained the option of allowing Baltic secession as communist-ruled independent states, the nature of the regime changes in the satellite states meant that this option had now disappeared. With East European leaders diverging from the original path of reforming socialism, it became all the more vital for the Soviets to stop the Baltic SSRs from following the states of Eastern Europe onto the paths of political independence. After all, the rapid crumbling of the edges of the wider Soviet empire reﬂected the severe weakening of Communist appeal and crucially Soviet power.27 In this situation, Gorbachev was not prepared to slacken his hold on the reins at home and to see his domestic reform course and the USSR itself endangered by separatism.28 To him it was crucial to at least contain if not reverse the spill-over from Eastern European events into the USSR. Repeatedly the Soviet leadership publicly emphasised that the ongoing changes in Eastern Europe were unacceptable in the Baltics and that the policy of ‘freedom of choice’ did not apply to Soviet Republics. Moreover, it was underlined that ‘self-determination’ could not be equated with secessionism: in CPSU vocabulary the terms ‘sovereignty’ and ‘autonomy’ did not mean ‘real independence’.29 Undeterred by this, the Baltic peoples continued their pursuit of the restoration of independent statehood, namely by looking to the West.30 As explained in previous chapters of this work, the nature of Western nonrecognition policies varied from country to country and had evolved over time. However hollow many of the West’s legalistic pledges to the Baltic may have sounded as the Cold War progressed,31 their value lay in the fact that ‘the Soviet Union never could overcome entirely this obstacle in asserting its absolute claims to the Baltic states’,32 and that the fate of these nations remained an international issue. Indeed, the West considered ‘Baltic rhetoric’ useful as an anti-Soviet propaganda tool – a means by which Moscow could be accused of not adhering to international law and norms (as stipulated in the UN Charter and the Helsinki Final Act). In other words, in the Cold War context, the West’s wider political aims were consistent with their legalistic standpoint on the Baltic. Unfortunately for the Baltics, however, the United Nation’s postSecond World War normative regime regarding self-determination was underdeveloped. As Prakash Sinha pointed out in his 1968 study on selfdetermination in international law, the UN Charter ought to have been applied to the Baltic case just as it was applied to overseas colonies which under UN practice were granted self-determination and independence from former imperialist powers. Sinha argued that like African nations (but unlike [ethnic] minorities in existing states such as Kurds in Iraq), the Baltics (which had been recognised by Moscow as fully independent states in the inter-war years) had been colonised by the USSR. The only

162 K. Spohr Readman difference was the contiguous nature of their territory, which, in contrast to ‘classic’ colonies did not lie overseas. Yet, it was the East–West stalemate that allowed the UN (and the West) to remain in terms of true political action unresponsive to the Baltic plight. The UN could offer no more to Western and Baltic lobbyists than a platform for the language of selfdetermination and non-recognition of annexation.33 Still, from the Baltic’s perspective, the legalistic standpoint was highly important to their political survival and revival in 1989. The legal framework seemed to offer the most solid backing for their peoples’ struggle to regain full sovereignty. It granted legitimacy for their cause and tied the West to the Baltic quest. Moreover, the Western (great) powers were seen as a good counterweight to the Soviet Union. Also on a deeper ideological level, the ‘West’ stood for everything they aspired to: freedom and democracy. Against the historico-legal background, it is not surprising that while contacts with the new Eastern European governments were helpful and the revolutions inspiring, Baltic leaders of the independence movements preferred to look to the West for support. In sum, it was the intensifying public Baltic search for restitutive justice legitimised by international law – underwritten by many of the international community especially in the West – that by the late 1980s transformed an originally seemingly domestic Soviet issue into an international one, and that was to test the West’s commitment to the Baltic. Would – now that the crunch came – deeds follow words? Would the West, as the iron curtain was being torn, acknowledge that the Baltic issue was truly a matter of operative policies for them and on the international agenda?

The Baltic struggle in the shadow of the German question, 1989/1990 Western governments had been aware of developments in the Baltic Republics for some time,34 but they pushed the Baltic matter aside as an internal Soviet problem and hoped it would be resolved within the Union context.35 In the summer and autumn of 1989, their focus was on the revolutions in Eastern Europe, with East Germany’s dissolution increasingly at the forefront. With the images of the Chinese regime’s bloody crackdown of June fresh in people’s minds, everybody wondered whether Gorbachev would break with his pledge on the non-use of force and initiate deployment of Soviet forces in the GDR – the keystone of the Warsaw Pact. In the event, no military action was taken, either by the Soviets or by East Germany’s own armed forces. On 9 November, the Berlin wall was unexpectedly opened.36 A massive migration movement from East to West followed. Subsequently, West German chancellor Kohl stunned the world by announcing without consultation a Ten Point Programme that gave justiﬁcation ‘from above’ to the uniﬁcation process set in motion ‘from below’ by the German people.

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Yet Germany could not unify without the consent of the four victor powers. With the Kremlin seen as the biggest obstacle, and Downing Street and the Elysée Palace initially rather hostile to the re-establishment of German unity, Kohl had to rely on US President Bush’s support and America’s diplomatic weight. While it was believed that for alliance political reasons French president Mitterrand and British prime minister Thatcher would eventually come round to supporting German uniﬁcation, Bush and Kohl were particularly concerned about how to secure Gorbachev’s consent. For the Soviet leader was seen as key to a successful outcome of the uniﬁcation process and for the continuity of nonconfrontational East–West politics. The immediate concern of Washington and Bonn was to avoid any steps that could alienate the Soviet leader, or destabilise the Soviet Union and jeopardise Gorbachev’s political survival, and thus thwart uniﬁcation. Bush wanted to conduct policies that ‘would, or could, [allow Gorbachev to] sustain the loss of East Germany on top of everything else’. To this end, he and the German chancellor advocated publicly ‘self-determination’ for East Germany, rather than mentioning ‘reuniﬁcation’.37 This rhetoric was also adopted by the British civil servants in the Foreign and Commonwealth Ofﬁce (FCO) as it suited their own careful line of policy on Germany. Yet in this context, no public reference was made to the right of selfdetermination of other peoples, notably those still in the Soviet Union. Indeed, little, if anything, was said about the Baltics. The heightened diplomatic activity concerning the German question in the last months of 1989 revealed that Germany was the priority on the international political agenda. Evidently, Realpolitik calculations dominated Western foreign policy, and they were clearly out of step with a policy based on universal norms. Washington’s rationale for abstaining from a visible position on Baltic developments seems to have been fear of being accused of interference in an internal Soviet matter and jeopardising the US–Soviet relationship, as well as the possibility that Gorbachev might retreat from his relatively amenable position on the German question. For European security, Gorbachev’s political survival and German uniﬁcation were considered vital.38 Even if the USA liked to present Baltic and German aspirations ‘as part of the same problem of imperial dissolution, both demanding sensitivity to Soviet security concerns and to the delicacy of the Soviet internal political situation’, out of the two issues – the Baltic and Germany – the latter was deﬁnitely considered more important.39 Thatcher – who opposed German uniﬁcation and preferred to focus solely on supporting Gorbachev – came to the same conclusions regarding the Baltic issue as did her American counterpart. On 24 November 1989, she told Bush that Downing Street had ‘decided not to pursue [the Baltics] at the moment because it would undermine Gorbachev’s larger efforts’.40 In her memoirs, she later glossed over such calculations by

164 K. Spohr Readman writing in more general terms and with a more pro-Baltic tone that in principle it was for her never a question of ‘whether but when they must be allowed to go free’.41 She gave, however, no further clues of a timeframe. How could she have been sure that a window of opportunity existed at all? After all, her considerations for Gorbachev were apparently not about to disappear, and there would undoubtedly always be larger Soviet efforts to consider. To be sure, her pro-Gorbachev and implicitly pro-union Soviet policies certainly ran counter to her alleged principled view on the Balts.42 As for Mitterrand, so preoccupied was he with the German question, that there is not a single mention of the Baltic issue in his adviser’s very detailed notes on their daily conversations during November and December 1989.43 In general, Western governments at this time seem to have inclined to the view that no immediate action was required on their part given the peaceful evolution of reform policies inside the Baltics and Gorbachev’s continued restraint regarding the use of force.44 Behind the scenes, however, the US government was anxious about the Baltic situation. At the Soviet–American Malta summit on 2–3 December 1989, Bush made clear to Gorbachev that using ‘force [in the Baltics] . . . would create a ﬁrestorm’ and that the ‘United States would have to respond to any use of force by the Soviets there’.45 What this response would be, remained unspeciﬁed. Yet it seems very unlikely that Washington would have risked war over the Baltic Republics. Of course, the US government had other means of exerting leverage over the USSR: START and trade treaties – agreements which the Kremlin was keen to secure. US ofﬁcials left the America–Soviet summit with the impression that they had come to an informal understanding that the Kremlin would restrict itself to noncoercive measures to deal with the Baltic Republics.46 In winter 1989–1990, however, the economic and political situation inside the Soviet Union rapidly worsened. To Gorbachev’s chagrin, the Lithuanian Communist Party (LCP) had seceded from the CPSU on 21 December 1989, and the Lithuanian legislature had voted 243–1 to abolish the clause in its constitution that granted the Communist Party a monopoly of power. Clearly the Soviet regime looked more and more vulnerable. As early as 25–26 December, Gorbachev convened a special plenum of the CPSU Central Committee to discuss the developments in Lithuania.47 A few days later, he made a heavily publicised trip to Vilnius – the ﬁrst such visit by a Soviet leader – on 11 January 1990. Reminding Lithuanians of their economic dependence on the rest of the Union, his ultimate goal was to thwart the movement towards full independence. He failed, encountering strong popular hostility to his appeal for Soviet unity. Indeed, his visit only had the effect of putting the Lithuanian case into the international media spotlight.48 Gorbachev’s nationalities troubles were of course not limited to the Baltic SSRs. In early January, Soviet troops had intervened on the border

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of Azerbaijan and Iran; Moldavians demonstrated for uniﬁcation with Romania and Armenia asserted the right to veto Soviet laws. Worse, intense inter-nationality conﬂict broke out between Armenians and Azerbaijanis. After Interior Ministry troops failed to restore order, Gorbachev ordered the deployment of the Soviet Army on 20 January 1990. Calm was only restored by a Baltic offer to mediate between the conﬂicting parties.49 In the event, not only had the Soviet leadership resorted to military force, but the centre had been politically bypassed by inter-Republic mediation politics. These were the ﬁrst signs of the centre’s loss of political control over its territory. Washington was alarmed by these events. According to national security adviser Brent Scowcroft, the administration feared that military intervention could mean ‘the destruction of perestroika’. And, were this to happen, the USA would lose ‘the principal advantage of Gorbachev’s presence’. In this vein, it was considered necessary to rein in the rhetoric of self-determination in support of nationalist movements inside the USSR, as this ‘might produce a military backlash and set back the cause of freedom throughout the Soviet Union’.50 French thinking went along similar lines. Paris’ main concern was Gorbachev.51 Yet by now Paris saw the achievement of German uniﬁcation entwined with further European integration as equally important. In effect, this was an endeavour shared by both president Mitterrand and chancellor Kohl, and put the FrancoGerman friendship back on track.52 While on the international stage, Gorbachev’s personal diplomacy was successful, inside the Soviet Union the situation had become critical by spring 1990. This was partly because of the ever growing strength of separatist pressure all over the Union including in Russia, and partly due to Gorbachev’s own actions. He pushed through the end to the CPSU’s role in governing the country and the establishment of a Western style presidency – two intrinsically opposed developments towards power concentration on the one hand and loosening the grip on the other hand, which threatened not only the Union but potentially Gorbachev himself. Indeed, the ﬁrst free elections in the USSR revealed the power of separatist nationalism, as became spectacularly visible in the Baltics. In elections to the Lithuanian Supreme Soviet (soon renamed Supreme Council) of 24 February 1990, Sajudis deputies won a landslide victory. On 11 March, Sajudis leader Vytautas Landsbergis was elected chairman of the Supreme Council and president of the Lithuanian Republic. Most importantly, on the same day Lithuania declared the re-establishment of national independence. The Estonian and Latvian SSRs followed suit, but were more cautious in their public declarations, speaking of resuming independence after a period of transition.53 From then onwards, the West could not continue to look solely to the Kremlin.54 The Western powers had to react to the declarations of recently elected parliaments – which they had recognised as legitimate legislatures.

166 K. Spohr Readman President Mitterrand for one was furious at the turn of events: ‘The Lithuanians will mess up everything. They have hardly ever been independent. And when they were, this was under dictatorship. Lamentable people. I would understand it, if Gorbachev [felt] obliged to react by using force.’55 If he thought this in private and was very concerned for Gorbachev, the Quai d’Orsay was more subtle. It emphasised that while France had never recognised Baltic annexation, now was not the right time to re-establish diplomatic relations, since neither Republic ‘exercised sovereignty over its territory’. Consequently, emphasis was placed upon France’s desire to see a ‘negotiated [peaceful] process’.56 Thatcher in turn urged Gorbachev to abstain from any use of force in search of a solution to the Lithuanian problem. She feared the outbreak of violence. Yet, although her advisers urged her that Western support of some kind should be given, she was adamant that ‘keep[ing] Gorbachev in the saddle’ was an American and British priority.57 With reports of the Soviet Air Force ﬂying over Vilnius, the US administration grew increasingly worried about a military crackdown.58 Which position should the White House take? Prior to the announcement of Lithuania’s independence, Bush had already concluded that he could not be in ‘a position of opposing an independent Lithuania’. At the same time, he feared that instantly pledging support for independence could cause ‘Gorbachev to fall, or the Soviet military to act on its own’. Like Thatcher, he hoped that there would be no violence. America could do nothing about it, and Bush certainly did not want his administration to ‘have blood on [their] hands for encouraging the Lithuanians to bite off more than they could chew’.59 In the event, backed by the CPSU-dominated Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies, Gorbachev condemned the Lithuanian declaration of independence as unlawful and invalid. Vowing to hold the Union together and emphasising that the Lithuanian question was not an international issue,60 he threatened military measures and on 16 March issued an ultimatum to Landsbergis to revoke the declaration within three days. This deadline, however, passed without resolution of the crisis. Meanwhile pressure was mounting on Bush at home from Congress, the Senate, the press and Baltic Americans. Indeed, Bush’s political ﬂexibility was being reduced by the strong domestic criticism of his apparently weak stance on Lithuania. He believed, however, that peaceful discussion, negotiations and accommodation between Vilnius and Moscow were an absolute necessity for the continuing success of Gorbachev’s perestroika policies, and for future stability and predictability in East–West relations. In other words, Washington’s most important aim was to prevent an outbreak of violence in Lithuania that could spread elsewhere.61 As an immediate Western neighbour of the Balts, Finland shared the American goal of a peaceful solution. Helsinki obviously had to take into account its geopolitically precarious position, in which it was of prime

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importance to keep cultivating good neighbourly relations with Moscow. If small state solidarity was expected, such hopes had to be tempered. Finnish president Mauno Koivisto did not hide his opinion that the Soviet Union had legitimate security interests in the Baltic area, thus revealing his less Baltic-friendly position. Although Finland adhered strongly to the CSCE principles of peaceful change, Koivisto made clear that he followed a ‘careful line of policy’ bearing in mind Finland’s own interests. He ranked these interests in following order of priority: 1 2 3 4

good relations with Moscow; good relations with Moscow’s current leadership; engagement with Estonian (Baltic) aspirations; protection of Western image.

Regarding the March crisis, Koivisto pointed to the need for Lithuanian– Soviet dialogue and willingness to compromise, adding that here Finland could, however, not act as a facilitator. Furthermore, in conversation with his Estonian friend Eero Rannik, he aired his view that Lithuania was in a cul de sac and that realistically Vilnius could not expect any practical help from the West. The latter view was privately shared by Kohl and Mitterrand.62 As against this, Bush in his memoirs – like Thatcher in hers – has emphasised that ‘no one was more desirous of seeing the Baltics independent than [the American administration]’. He also claimed that the criticism ‘that [they] did not recognize the new Lithuanian government because [they] were more interested in supporting Gorbachev than the independence of the Baltic states’, missed the point because ‘the only way the Baltic states could achieve lasting independence was with the acquiescence of the Kremlin’. While hindsight makes this reasoning look like the only sensible strategy, we have to wonder how Bush could have been so sure that Gorbachev would eventually grant acquiescence and allow independence. There was as little inevitability in the Baltics gaining independence as there was in the re-establishment of German unity.63 And during its two ﬁnal years, the Soviet leadership was always under threat of being forced to swing back towards hardline conservatism or being overruled by the military. If Bush then considered active support of the Baltics a high-risk strategy, his choice of indirectly supporting Gorbachev by taking a more low-key approach to the Baltic and in private conversation advocating Soviet–Lithuanian reconciliation through discussion was a risky strategy nonetheless. Who could guarantee that it would bring about the independence of the Baltic states? Indeed, who could guarantee Gorbachev’s political survival in the ﬁrst place? The Lithuanian declaration of independence manifestly put the West, with its decades-long legalistic rhetoric of Baltic support, on the spot. Moreover, the Balts’ aspirations embodied precisely the

168 K. Spohr Readman ‘self-determination’ which was being supported throughout Eastern Europe and Germany and which had been laid down at the CSCE 15 years earlier. With no immediate coercive response from the Soviet government, the Western powers remained ambivalent in their approach. They kept their focus on Gorbachev and the idea of Lithuanian–Soviet negotiations while hiding behind the continued rhetoric of non-recognition. This passive continuation of an old policy was considered the only acceptable and viable path, while implying that time was not ripe for any pro-active support, which was seen to be solely the step of re-establishing diplomatic relations.64 Due to a lack of a sense of urgency, there did not seem to be any Western willingness nor scope for imaginative pro-Baltic politics below the level of offering diplomatic relations. This was until the real escalation of the crisis between Moscow and Vilnius in April 1990 – just as the 2+4 talks on Germany were about to start.

The Lithuanian April crisis, the 2+4 process and superpower relations Following some smaller incidents between Soviet troops and Lithuanian militia in Vilnius in late March, as well as a series of Soviet warnings of further political, economic and ‘other’ measures, a new Soviet law on secession and stubborn rejections of Soviet demands by Landsbergis, the Kremlin implemented an energy blockade against Lithuania on 18 April 1990. The intention was to demonstrate to the Baltic states ‘that they could not simply go it alone’.65 With the military threats and the embargo, Gorbachev violated his own assurances that no coercion would be used. The West was now compelled to take a clear stand on the Baltic issue. From Washington’s point of view, the most pressing goal was to complete German uniﬁcation, as this tied in with wider European security concerns.66 Thatcher’s and Mitterrand’s main interests lay in Western accommodation with Moscow and in Gorbachev’s secure position in the Kremlin, hoping that stability in the USSR would guarantee stability in Europe.67 Although France had never recognised Baltic incorporation into the USSR de jure and had retained diplomatic privileges for Baltic representatives in Paris after the Second World War, Mitterrand cautioned the US president about recognising Lithuania: ‘It would be as if the United States sent an ambassador to Alsace.’ In Mitterrand’s view, all provocation of the USSR had to be avoided, especially at such a critical moment of German uniﬁcation. The French president was adamant that all the West could do in response to a Soviet embargo was impose economic sanctions.68 Essentially, all Western leaders were of the same opinion: for the sake of successful Western–Soviet diplomacy regarding Germany, Gorbachev had to prevail. Certainly, for Mitterrand at least – Thatcher remained wary – achieving German uniﬁcation had gained equal importance to wooing Gorbachev.

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In agreement with Kohl, German uniﬁcation was to be pushed for in the context of political and economic deepening of the European Community – the latter being a point that could not be further from Thatcher’s views. While for France this implied harnessing the power of a uniﬁed Germany, from Kohl’s perspective these European developments were not just considered a good policy in its own right in the long run, but an expeditious means to speed up uniﬁcation diplomacy from the Western side. The German chancellor knew that ultimately Moscow held the key to uniﬁcation, and he feared that the Lithuanian crisis might endanger this. Moreover, with German–Polish tensions over the recognition of the Oder–Neisse border, Kohl also feared further complications if Poland’s Eastern border with Lithuania became an issue. He was thus most keen on decoupling the Baltic question from the uniﬁcation issue. Baltic aspirations, even if grounded in international law and history, were considered an uncomfortable and disruptive factor for the international talks on the re-establishment of German unity. From Kohl’s point of view, the Baltics only stood in the way – this was the reality. His great dilemma, however, was that: 1 2

Germany could not escape the legacy of Hitler’s Pact with Stalin. Bonn was an advocate of the principle of self-determination – to which it had referred countless times.69

But, whereas in the German case, the rhetoric of self-determination was a crucial driving force in uniﬁcation diplomacy, in the Baltic case it remained mere rhetoric without ‘material’ backing – something Kohl did not hesitate to tell Lithuanian Prime Minister Prunskienf, and over which there seemed to be an Anglo-Franco-German agreement.70 It is necessary here to turn to the small states of Iceland and Denmark, which seemed to emerge out of nowhere as forceful advocates of the Baltics’ cause. In January 1990, the Nordic Ministerial Council had begun investigating the possibility of creating cultural ties with the Baltic Republics, and in view of Lithuania’s developments in particular, informal contacts were established between February and April. Copenhagen was particularly active in supporting Lithuania. On 22 March, the Danish foreign minister Uffe Elleman-Jensen proclaimed that not only did the Soviet leadership have to be held to its promise not to use force and for both sides to start negotiations, but that Denmark would actively ‘expand and strengthen all useful initiatives’. This meant establishing Danish– Lithuanian co-operation and building relationships among others in the areas of trade, environment and education.71 Iceland went even further at the level of high politics. In mid-March, the Icelandic Parliament congratulated the Lithuanians upon their declaration of independence, and Iceland’s foreign minister Jon Baldwin Hannibalsson in a message to his Soviet counterpart Eduard Shevardnadze on

170 K. Spohr Readman 23 March urged the USSR to initiate talks with the democratically elected representatives of Lithuania without prior conditions.72 Following the implementation of Moscow’s energy blockade, Hannibalsson used international platforms such as the NATO foreign ministers meeting on 3 May to criticise his allies, whom he accused of having a half-hearted attitude in Baltic policies.73 One can only speculate as to why these two Nordic countries were such keen advocates of the Baltic republics – a stance that caused a certain amount of tension with their other, more cautious Nordic partners Finland, Sweden and Norway.74 With regard to Denmark and Iceland’s forceful policies, US secretary of state Baker observed in a conversation with chancellor Kohl that ‘the smaller the NATO partner, the stronger the steps demanded against the Soviet Union – most by Iceland’.75 This comment can be interpreted in two ways. First, a small nation like Iceland – beneﬁting from the NATO umbrella – was free to express its views, because it was mostly unaffected by the changing global East–West affairs. Second, it could be argued that apart from being annoying, Iceland’s loud mutterings did not matter anyway in the eyes of the bigger states, because Reykjavik was such an insigniﬁcant international actor. The factor of size (and geographical location) certainly inﬂuenced Iceland’s policies. Yet it is possible that Iceland’s and especially Denmark’s own experience as small European nations had engendered a sense of solidarity with the Balts. Moreover, a strong moral judgement regarding international law, and a certain Nordic–Baltic cultural afﬁnity appear to have played its part. Evidence from Iceland seems to imply that the USA used Iceland’s position for its own advantage. The US embassy’s policy statement on Lithuania issued to the Icelandic foreign ministry on 24 March 1990 namely included the following: We ask your government to raise the situation of Lithuania with the Soviet Union urgently because time is of essence. You should ask that the confrontational steps, including military preparations, coercion of Lithuanian leaders or any effort to prevent freely elected leaders there from governing be stopped and that negotiations be started with the government of Lithuania.76 Iceland may thus have been acting out of its own political drive as well as out of encouragement by the USA. American encouragement might have been a sign of willingness to engage indirectly in Baltic diplomacy, without risking open confrontation on a superpower level. In public, Washington certainly did not want to be seen as directly interfering in Soviet affairs, and ultimately there was little interest in providing active support. For Washington, encouraging Lithuanian–Soviet negotiations seemed the most practical solution.77 If Hannibalsson was the most direct and open politician in supporting

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Baltic aspirations and Bush leant towards a cautious and principled Baltic approach which he sought to balance with his Realpolitik concerns, Kohl, Koivisto and Mitterrand were closer to accusing the three Soviet Republics of selﬁshness and disregard for Gorbachev’s precarious political position.78 Mitterrand, who met with Bush at Key Largo on 19 April, promoted taking a measured action in response to the Kremlin’s hardened line. He said: ‘Let us not demand from Gorbachev, what we would not demand of the dictator who will succeed him.’ In Mitterrand’s view, the Lithuanians were overzealous and the whole situation might therefore end in bloodshed. Following this logic, the French president proposed to the Americans a Franco-German initiative of a ‘common Ostpolitik’, which would receive US encouragement.79 The French president and the German chancellor thus sought to defuse the Lithuanian crisis by sending a letter to Landsbergis on 26 April. Not wanting to be seen as mediators between Moscow and Vilnius, Kohl and Mitterrand urged the Lithuanian president to suspend his country’s independence declaration and start negotiations with Moscow. Kohl reasoned that the letter would improve German–Soviet relations and help to bolster Gorbachev’s political standing, while simultaneously not totally alienating Lithuania.80 Indeed, at the time he reckoned that the Lithuanians could achieve their aims in ﬁve years, and hence criticised them for wanting to make too big a step at once. In this vein, Kohl also wanted to avoid at all costs a Bundestag resolution on the topic of Lithuania.81 Hannibalsson branded the Franco-German letter ‘dishonourable’.82 This was not surprising because, if there was plenty of time for the Baltics to achieve their goals, why was Kohl in such a hurry over the German question? In truth, the outcome of both developments was unpredictable and the results of both evolutions depended primarily on the Kremlin, if not to say Gorbachev. Time was of the essence in both cases. According to Zelikow and Rice, the American government ‘debated hotly whether the United States should pressure the Lithuanians to accede the German and French initiative’. Whereas Robert Gates, Robert Blackwill and Condoleezza Rice wanted to avoid leaving ﬁngerprints on a document that could be seen as an effort to dissuade the Baltic SSRs from seeking independence, Bush thought it was a good idea.83 He himself had had a message passed to Landsbergis in March suggesting negotiations with Moscow, but Landsbergis had then insisted that this was not possible.84 Now Bush hoped the Kohl–Mitterrand letter would cause Landsbergis to cooperate with Moscow. Bush was keen ‘on constructive dialogue, not separatism’, as he put it. This was his Realpolitik thinking. Yet his moral side as well as domestic pressure made him also hold onto the view that Lithuanian independence aspirations were an important American concern. Bush did not want to be seen as an appeaser by simply accepting Soviet actions, and thus felt that he could not sit idly by as far as the Baltic question was concerned. The US president was clearly torn

172 K. Spohr Readman between supporting the Lithuanians and keeping Gorbachev on side over Germany and arms control, although there can be no doubts of his priorities.85 Importantly at this time, American–Soviet relations were not as smooth as they seemed, and the Lithuanian crisis certainly did not help matters. While Washington accused Moscow of using coercion, Soviet foreign minister Shevardnadze sought to make the USA uneasy by pointing to the USSR’s and Gorbachev’s precarious situation and blamed Landsbergis for the collapse of Soviet–Lithuanian dialogue.86 Rather than retaliating against the Soviets – something that was demanded by the American press and by Congress,87 but not endorsed by the US government and its allies – Bush and his advisers decided that the suspension of economic initiatives would be suitable punishment.88 Bush’s main concern was seeing Gorbachev’s position secured in the face of growing pressure from the Soviet military. The US administration calculated that economic sanctions would help Gorbachev not to lose face over Lithuania, but would apply sufﬁcient pressure on the Kremlin to lift the Soviet embargo on Vilnius. In this vein, Washington decided that until this embargo was lifted, trade beneﬁts would be withheld. Bush had warned Gorbachev in advance in a letter about this ultimatum. Gorbachev’s hostile reaction was therefore disappointing for the West.89 It was during May that the Kremlin ﬁnally began to shift its policy out of economic necessity.90 Shevardnadze indicated to Kohl that the USSR was in desperate need of economic assistance. Kohl was determined to help out Gorbachev economically, so using chequebook diplomacy as a tool for extracting Soviet concessions. It was his Realpolitik strategy not to allow the Baltic crisis to impede on German national interests any further. He thus focused on cultivating friendly relations with Gorbachev, and guaranteed a DM 5 billion loan. Kohl urged Bush to do something similar, arguing that Gorbachev might be overthrown if ﬁnancial aid was not forthcoming, and that consequently German uniﬁcation would be jeopardised. Yet Bush – under heavy domestic pressure – stood ﬁrm, and vowed that the USA would not give Gorbachev any money, unless the Soviets changed their policy towards Lithuania and committed themselves to continuous economic reform. Although this relatively tough stance could not be expected to ease tensions in American–Soviet relations, privately Bush hoped that the strained relations could be rescued at the May summit.91 This superpower summit of 30–31 May was a critical moment for both the Baltic and the German questions and for the future of US–Soviet relations. A tacit breakthrough on all fronts was achieved. While Gorbachev quietly consented to Germany’s right to determine its defence arrangements, the stalemate over Soviet most favoured nation (MFN) status and trade was resolved. It was agreed that the bilateral trade agreement be signed in public, while sending the package for ratiﬁcation to Congress was made contingent on the fulﬁlment of a number of Soviet commit-

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ments. These included the passing of an acceptable emigration law by the USSR Supreme Soviet, the lifting of the Soviet embargo against Vilnius and entering a dialogue with Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia on the independence issue. In other words, there was a clear linkage between US trade concessions and Lithuania. Bush left no doubt that the Baltic issue would remain a problem in US–Soviet relations until the Baltic people were granted self-determination.92 Despite this relatively pro-Baltic position, it must observe that America’s Baltic policy seemed on the whole more reactive than pro-active – and was conducted out of a sense of moral duty, safeguarding political integrity and a commitment to a rhetoric that stemmed from the Cold War. In other words, the US administration’s rhetoric tied it to a particular policy out of the necessity not to lose international credibility and moral high ground, rather than the rhetoric being part of a pro-active pro-Baltic political strategy. The same could be said about British Baltic policy. Thatcher kept referring to the people’s right to self-determination and London’s adherence to its non-recognition policies, while trusting that Gorbachev’s language on self-determination implied the same freedoms for the Baltics as she implied;93 yet as explained earlier, for Gorbachev such rhetoric held a more limited meaning and did not mean real independence for SSRs. Ironically, while at this juncture, American politico-economic pressure helped to constrain the Soviet leadership from resorting to the use of military force when Moscow was economically desperate, it was the rise of the USSR’s heartland Russia and its leader Boris Yeltsin that ultimately challenged the Kremlin’s course on Lithuania. Yeltsin, who became chairman of the Russian Supreme Soviet on 29 May 1990, had run on a highly nationalistic platform, and in a spectacular display of solidarity between rebellious republics had met with Landsbergis in Moscow on 1 June. Eleven days later, the Supreme Soviet of Russia declared Russia’s sovereignty from the USSR, which was followed over the summer by similar declarations by Uzbekistan, Moldovia and Belarus. This domino effect of nationalist spill-over inside the USSR made the superstructure of the Soviet state look more and more ‘like a hollow shell’.94 Gorbachev recognised only too well the challenge Yeltsin posed both for him personally and for the survival of the USSR. Indeed, Gorbachev condemned what he coined the ‘fashion’ of ‘parading sovereignty’95 by pointing in particular to Russia. In an attempt to regain control at home, he declared his readiness to work with Yeltsin and to negotiate with Baltic leaders, but only within the framework of the Soviet constitution.96 When Lithuania suspended its independence declaration on 29 June, Moscow responded by lifting its embargo on 1 July. The ﬁrst Lithuanian–Soviet crisis was over. With it the Baltic issue had effectively become decoupled from German uniﬁcation diplomacy, and Germany was ofﬁcially uniﬁed on 3 October 1990.

174 K. Spohr Readman

Bloodshed in Vilnius and the disintegration of the USSR Contrary to Baltic hopes, the international focus shifted away from Europe in the autumn of 1990. Despite continued statements reafﬁrming the commitment of the USA to its non-recognition policy and to upholding human rights, the Bush administration was now focused on achieving superpower consensus in the face of impending military conﬂict with Iraq – a former Soviet ally. The superpower honeymoon over military intervention in the Gulf was largely the result of the new US policy of using economic bargaining tactics to achieve co-operation with Moscow. Yet Gorbachev was not simply ‘pulled’ into this new superpower co-operation in the Middle East. It was very much in Moscow’s own interest as it boosted Soviet prestige on the world stage. Crucially, the relationship between the Kremlin and the White House remained uneasy over Europe,97 even if Bush expressed the hope that this common US–Soviet experience might enable them to work together to solve the Baltic problem.98 This reasoning could be seen as a reﬂection of US idealism that the Soviet–Baltic rift could be resolved by a ‘both . . . and’ rather than an ‘either . . . or’ policy – meaning supporting Gorbachev and Soviet cohesion as well as helping the Baltics in their endeavour by promoting a mutual agreement.99 At home, Gorbachev faced an ever more forceful secessionist drive by Russia. Yeltsin, Gorbachev’s political arch-rival who had quit the Communist Party in July 1990, pushed for a new Union Treaty, thus challenging Gorbachev’s authority as president of the USSR. October 1990 saw the socalled ‘war of laws’, with Russia and the Ukraine declaring supremacy of their own republican legislation over Soviet federal law, and the USSR Supreme Soviet contradicting them. The more the leaders of the republics took matters into their own hands, the more the Soviet Union slipped out of Gorbachev’s. Within this context, political survival, as well as preserving the USSR and its international status became the three priorities of the Soviet president. On 23 November 1990, Gorbachev presented his new Union Plan that would rebuild the federation from the centre. A month later at the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies, he emphasised the need for strong executive power and the restoration of order. A series of changes in governmental posts signalled the Soviet leader’s new hands-on orientation. In particular, the appointment of former ﬁrst secretary of the Latvian Communist Party and chief of the Latvian KGB, Boris Pugo, as Minister of Internal Affairs, sent a clear, threatening message to the Baltic.100 In the face of this political shift, the West’s continued support for Gorbachev could only be justiﬁed by the argument of personal continuity.101 Here, Gorbachev relied on Kohl’s and Bush’s but also Mitterrand’s and Thatcher’s loyalty and their calculations of Realpolitik. Each of these leaders continued to woo Gorbachev, despite his turn to the Communist

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hardliners. Kohl wanted to see Soviet ratiﬁcation of the German uniﬁcation treaty in spring 1991,102 while Bush and Thatcher were keen on Soviet co-operation over the Gulf War.103 Mitterrand saw Gorbachev as inﬁnitely preferable to some hardline ‘marshal’ who might yet come to power, bringing bloodshed and instability to the Soviet Union. Furthermore, sceptical about the absolute necessity expressed by Bush and Thatcher for military action against Saddam Hussein, Mitterrand looked to Gorbachev and his equally cautious Middle Eastern policy. Mitterrand’s main interest, however, was a stable European environment in which to realise further European integration.104 The Western European great powers kept their Baltic policies low-key, opening channels with Baltic political actors primarily on cultural questions, e.g. the setting up of Baltic information bureaux.105 Iceland and Denmark continued to lend active support to Baltic demands for independence, using the UN and CSCE, but also NATO and the Nordic Council as platforms to highlight the legitimate aspirations of the Baltic nations. Cultural links were established, trade connections examined, ﬁnancial aid provided and diplomatic visits made.106 Yet, when Baltic dignitaries came to Reykjavik and Copenhagen, care was taken that they were always treated at one level below leaders of fully independent states. The boldest action was probably the opening of the ﬁrst Baltic information bureau in Copenhagen on 20 December 1990,107 and the holding of a conference incorporating foreign ministers from the Nordic countries and Baltic Republics (the so-called 5+3 meeting) on the same day. The latter ended with a declaration to the effect that the ‘de facto’ participation of the Baltic states in the CSCE process had to be increased with the perspective of their full participation in the future; the foreign ministers of the Baltic states should be granted observer status in the Council of foreign ministers of the CSCE and the Baltic issue ought to be on the agenda of the Valletta meeting and the Conﬂict Prevention Centre.108 Even if Sweden and Norway were more hesitant than their two Scandinavian allies, they nevertheless seemed to be taking an increasingly positive stance towards the Baltic states. Finland also hoped that in the long run, Baltic independence would be restored. In the immediate term, however, Helsinki continued to emphasise its view that the Baltics should not rush to achieve this goal and expect Western aid that would not be forthcoming. Rather, results should be sought through negotiations with Moscow and in line with the Soviet law on secession. These cautious policies were partly due to the difﬁcult geopolitical position of Finland as the USSR’s neighbour and trading partner, yet they were also driven by the rather particular views of president Koivisto.109 Given these signiﬁcant differences between the Nordic policies, the Nordic Council’s strong December declaration regarding the Baltic Republics’ future status at the CSCE was an important step. Moreover, it

176 K. Spohr Readman had a special reason. Iceland (with Denmark and Norway in tow) had lobbied all through the summer of 1990 for Baltic representatives to gain admission as observers to the November 1990 CSCE summit in Paris, where the future of a post-Cold War Europe was to be discussed. France, the host nation, had eventually granted them special status and an accreditation. But Gorbachev vetoed this decision just before the meeting started on 19 November. He accepted Baltic participation only as part of the Soviet delegation, which was unacceptable for the Balts. They were thus excluded at the last minute. Most Western participants remained suspiciously silent, with Thatcher only vaguely touching on the ‘particular position of the Baltic states’ in her speech.110 French foreign minister Roland Dumas was willing to receive the Baltic foreign ministers separately in the evening of the 19th to explain the hiccup; but, as Jacques Attali recalled, the whole affair was rather embarrassing.111 Subsequently, only Denmark and Iceland took action by arranging a special press conference that allowed the voices of the Baltic representatives to be heard.112 Although it can be argued that Iceland and Denmark were too small and too weak to exert any real inﬂuence in great power politics, they did have an impact. Throughout 1990, Moscow continuously protested against Reykjavik’s Baltic course. More importantly, the Baltic issue was visibly kept on the international agenda, and the Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians felt that they were morally and politically supported through the declarations, resolutions and visits by the Icelandic and Danish government ofﬁcials – something that could be said neither for the great Western powers nor for the small, neighbouring states of Finland, Sweden and Norway. Mark Kramer’s research has shown that the post-Communist governments of Eastern Europe, speciﬁcally Poland and Czechoslovakia, were also openly very encouraging of the Baltic independence aspirations. Apart from symbolic moves such as Lech Walesa’s nomination of the Baltic states for the Nobel Prize, political action included ofﬁcial statements based on international law (like those of the Western powers) or informal Polish support of Lithuania.113 Not surprisingly, however, Danish and Icelandic actions had a greater meaning in the eyes of the Baltic peoples. The forceful public policies of these two countries and their credentials as established Western democracies and NATO members simply counted for more in international politics. The crucial turning point in the story of the Baltic independence struggle occurred at the beginning of 1991, in the shadow of the Gulf War and following the sudden and surprising resignation of Eduard Shevardnadze as Soviet foreign minister on 20 December 1990. His departure not only cast a cloud over US–Soviet relations, but gave the anti-reformist forces and the military space to push for Soviet action in the Baltic. On 13 January – just before the launching of the air campaign against Iraq – Soviet paratroopers and units of the Soviet and Lithuanian Interior min-

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istries (the Black berets) spearheaded by members of the KGB antiterrorist A-7 unit sought to crush the peaceful revolutions by military force and regain control in Vilnius. A similar assault later also occurred in Riga, killing and injuring numerous Lithuanians and Latvians. Tallinn luckily escaped such bloodshed. Bearing in mind his promises to abstain from using force and his general language on observing human rights, one can only speculate about Gorbachev’s motives here. Soviet action seemed a repeat of the patterns of previous Soviet leaders, surprising the world with military force when least expected. In an interesting twist, those involved in preparing the crackdown would later be involved in the August coup. As John Dunlop and Brian Taylor have recently revealed, participants at a meeting held in Gorbachev’s ofﬁce on 8 January on how to resolve the problem in Lithuania included KGB chairman Krychkov, defence minister Yasov and interior minister Boris Pugo. The decision to use force was taken. In other words, despite Gorbachev’s vehement denial of knowing anything, he must have known. Yet, it is not for us here to speculate how fully Gorbachev was aware of or involved in the planning and execution of the crackdown.114 The question rather is – if we assume that Gorbachev did know something – whether the crackdown was a sign of Gorbachev’s determination to hold onto the Union, which then failed because of Yeltsin’s political involvement in the Baltics, instant international reactions and the Soviet Army’s reluctance to be involved in internal policing, or whether it can be interpreted as having been planned as limited in scope from the outset because Gorbachev in truth was unwilling to attempt to retain power through force, as Daniel Thomas has recently argued.115 It seems most probable that both arguments are part of the answer: Gorbachev probably went for a last-ditch effort along with his new hard-line allies, while at the same time knowing that his credibility and integrity was on the line at home and abroad.116 That Estonians were saved from bloodshed was probably due to Yeltsin’s visit to Tallinn,117 where he signed a mutual security pact with representatives of the three Baltic states. In the face of Soviet intervention, the leaders of the four republics also issued a joint appeal to the UN. Yeltsin’s visit was an act of support for Baltic aspirations, but also one of deﬁance of Gorbachev’s power. His engagement in the Baltic republics must then not be interpreted as a sign of Russian solidarity with the Baltic Republics, but of Russia trying to assert herself. In his personal power struggle with Gorbachev, the Baltics became a useful weapon of Yeltsin.118 All in all, the bloody events in Vilnius and Riga clearly resulted in a political and moral victory for the Baltic peoples. Being in the media spotlight also crucially made Western public opinion swing to their side, hence putting Western governments under pressure to condemn Soviet repression. Indeed, immediately after the Soviet crackdown, the governments of the Western powers vehemently spoke out against Soviet violence. Bush

178 K. Spohr Readman even sent a letter to Gorbachev threatening to withdraw all American ﬁnancial help. Faced with such criticism at a time when the USSR most needed Western economic aid, Gorbachev did not have the stomach for repression. Troops were withdrawn by late January, and negotiators appointed on 1 February to conduct discussions with Baltic leaders. On 9 February, Lithuanians in a referendum voted for independence; on 3 March, Estonians and Latvians followed suit.119 Iceland and Denmark as before stood out with their pro-active Baltic policies. A stern letter by Iceland’s prime minister to Gorbachev of 13 January condemning Soviet use of force was followed by foreign minister Hannibalsson’s visit to the Baltic states between 18 and 21 January, during which he called for an independent UN investigation of the events. In February, the Icelandic Parliament passed a resolution calling upon the government to establish diplomatic relations with Lithuania.120 Furthermore, in a position paper of 12 April 1991 presented by Hannibalsson to the Soviet ambassador in Reykjavik, the Soviet Foreign Ministry’s continuously repeated contentions that Iceland’s Lithuanian policies were ‘incompatible with the obligations under the charter of United Nations and the Helsinki Final Act’ were bluntly refuted by a thoroughly laid out explanation based on international law and history. With reference to three of the Final Act’s principles guiding relations between participating states (I – on sovereign equality and respect for the rights inherent in sovereignty under international law; III – on the inviolability of frontiers; IV – on territorial integrity of states) as well as ‘residual legal effects that took place over ﬁfty years ago’, it was emphasised that the situation of the Baltic states in the current international context had to be regarded ‘as unique’, and that Iceland had thus ‘agreed to act as a mediator in the relations between the Baltic States and the soviet authorities’.121 Denmark, somewhat less boldly, signed a co-operation protocol with Estonia on 11 March. These and other moves provoked immediate protests from Moscow. But undeterred, both governments called upon international law, insisting on it vis-à-vis the USSR.122 The same line was pursued in Nordic initiatives more generally – another Nordic Council meeting took place on 23 February 1991 – though Finland under Koivisto continued to display great caution.123 Sharp criticism by the Eastern European states over the Soviet crackdown caused irritation in Moscow, where CPSU ofﬁcials expressed their concern about their former allies’ unfriendly policies and proposed economic coercion to re-establish Soviet presence.124 Such thinking only showed Soviet naivety and unwillingness to understand that the Soviet bloc was irreversibly gone. Ultimately, however, the Kremlin cared little about Eastern European actions. The focus was on economic bargaining with the West, the USA and Germany in particular. Once the dust had settled, little seemed to have changed with regard to the position of the Western great powers. Chancellor Kohl, for instance,

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claimed that the disintegration of the USSR was not in Germany’s interest,125 echoing an earlier claim that it was better for the Baltics to take ‘100 small steps rather than one big one’.126 Kohl’s prime focus was seeing the Soviet–German ratiﬁcation of the 2+4 treaty concluded in March 1991, and again economic linkage policies would play an important role in Bonn’s Moscow ﬁrst policy. Even thereafter the chancellor remained personally disinterested in the Baltic.127 It was rather German foreign minister Hans-Dietrich Genscher, one of the architects of West Germany’s Cold War Ostpolitik and a ﬁrm believer in national self-determination and the peaceful change of borders, who seemed genuinely keen to see the Baltic question resolved sooner rather than later.128 Yet within the infamous ‘System Kohl’,129 it was not easy, even for Genscher, to push through views that were not necessarily in line with the personal preferences of the chancellor. The US administration’s motives for its Moscow-centred moves in the spring of 1991 were guided by events in the Gulf, US–Soviet disarmament/arms control talks and the question of economic aid for Moscow. Bush and Baker placed their hopes on changes within the Soviet Union, on a politically strong Gorbachev and an effectively working central structure through which changes in the USSR could be achieved. Underlying this was the ever growing anxiety that if the Soviet Union disintegrated and Gorbachev disappeared – and this seemed increasingly a possibility with an ever stronger Russia under Yeltsin, the progress on a new Union treaty, and the ever growing question mark over a backlash by the Communist hardliners – a dangerous shift in the balance of global security might occur. These were concerns that also guided the Baltic policies of the French and British governments.130 Despite these serious security–political considerations which were evidently at the top of the international agenda of the Western great powers, it is notable that there was now more action in Western–Baltic relations than before. The number of informal visits and consultations between Baltic leaders and Western governments as well as NGOs, industry and individuals were steadily increasing, reﬂecting a genuine growing concern for the Baltic aspirations, even if these were not directly a foreign political priority. Cultural links were broadened and deepened, discussions began on the restoration of pre-war Baltic properties such as embassies as well as on economic and know-how assistance,131 and parliamentary contacts were fostered. Still, there did not yet appear to be much political urgency regarding the actual achievement of Baltic independence. What ﬁnally sealed the fate of the Soviet Union, Gorbachev and the Baltic states was the failed putsch of August 1991. Yeltsin, since 12 June the president of Russia, emerged strengthened while Gorbachev returned from his house arrest in the Crimea very much a Soviet ex-president. Indeed, the political consequences for the Soviet Union were devastating. As Pavel Grachev has noted ‘the failed coup paralysed the traditional

180 K. Spohr Readman [Soviet] mechanism of coercion and control’, already undermined due to the Novo-Ogorevo process and by Gorbachev’s abolition of the ‘Brezhnev doctrine’. Thus, the Union Republics now had the unique chance to transform their declarations of sovereignty into real independence. Indeed, in the midst of the August coup, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania reafﬁrmed their de facto independence. Given their long-standing support, it was only logical that Iceland and Denmark were the ﬁrst to recognise the independence of the Baltic states and re-establish diplomatic relations on 22–24 August 1991. Under pressure from Genscher, even Germany was among the earliest states to sign the re-establishment of diplomatic relations.132 The USA only did so on 2 September, the day that the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies approved Baltic departure from the Union. Bush was later to write that he ‘had wanted to avoid the international and domestic political pressure on Gorbachev that US recognition would bring, as well as the perception that the Soviet leadership had acted under duress’.133 Yet this statement simply underlines how difﬁcult it was for the US president to accept that Gorbachev’s days in ofﬁce were numbered, and how reactive American Baltic policies were.

Conclusions The rebellion of the Soviet Republics was ‘the result of long-suppressed nationalist and ethnic passions, economic hardship, the liberating environment of perestroika and associated dissipation of fear, and Gorbachev’s blindness and mistakes’.134 Gorbachev’s reforms and the everdeepening economic crisis allowed long-standing latent discontent to develop into serious protest movements. Protest became entwined with nationalism and – in the Baltic context – developed into separatism which, as Kramer has shown, was emboldened during 1989 by Eastern European revolutionary developments. Yet the impact of Eastern European developments was less decisive in the achievement of Baltic independence than the inﬂuence of the West and its legalistic rhetoric on the Baltic question. However much the Baltic struggle grew out of a strong sense of cultural identity and rejection of rule from Moscow, the determination behind it drew on the fact that it could be couched in the language of international law and principles. Baltic leaders clung to the Western Cold War rhetoric concerning the right of peoples to self-determination as well as the nonrecognition policies of most Western governments, especially the USA. It was reference to this language of universal norms and values which rapidly turned Baltic aspirations from a domestic into an international issue. In contrast to the German question, however, the principled Western rhetoric regarding the Baltic was not backed up by any direct material aid or pro-active political support from the main powers (the USA, France,

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Britain and Germany). Moreover, unlike the prospect of German reuniﬁcation, the Baltic goal of restored independence was seen as threatening to Gorbachev and to Soviet unity. Many feared the potential instability that might spill over from the East as a consequence of the USSR’s disintegration. Until August 1991, the Baltic question was thus never perceived as a diplomatic priority in its own right in the West – Iceland and Denmark apart. Moreover, states were divided in terms of the level of real support and interest that they attached to the ‘words’, and did not, unlike Iceland and Denmark, turn rhetoric into active support early on. Despite the small size of these countries, their constant chiding of the bigger powers on the Baltic issue helped slowly to undermine the credibility of Soviet cohesion. Nevertheless, the relatively peaceful restoration of Baltic independence and subsequent disappearance of the USSR as a state was by no means inevitable or predictable,135 and was certainly not the result of any grand Western strategy. The USA and the great Western European powers might have hoped that if they continued to press Moscow, negotiations would eventually bring about the independence that the Baltic nations craved. But who could be certain that Gorbachev was willing to see the Soviet Union crumble on the rim, after he had let go the outer empire? Who expected that the Soviet Union would disappear altogether? What if Gorbachev had been overthrown by a hardliner, would we have witnessed then the independence of the Baltics? How then would the Western policies have been judged? What ultimately brought down the Soviet Union was internal implosion – a process set in motion by the Balts, but which became deadly with the rise of Yeltsin’s Russia and the eventual emancipation of the Ukraine. The end result was what the Balts had desired and many in the West had hoped for: Baltic independence. The Baltic episode in the context of the Cold War endgame shows us that while many political decisions were taken behind closed doors, the public statements of politicians and their rhetoric ought not be taken as unimportant and/or dismissed as propaganda. Yet while the principled policies and juridical language were considered a very important part of Western diplomacy in the Cold War stalemate, making even a ‘small issue’ like the Baltic question an important part of the Cold War competition and a question of power and prestige, when the Eastern glacis ﬁnally disintegrated, the words were not turned into deeds by pro-active policies. Rather the Cold War political rhetoric was in many ways conducted out of historical necessity and in a reactive manner. In effect, then, language eventually forced a particular line of policy. In this respect, it is thus misleading to see the achievement of a peaceful Baltic independence in 1991 as the result of a successful long-term Western strategy.

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Notes 1 This chapter is an adapted and shortened version of an article originally published in Cold War History, 6, 1, 2006, pp. 1–42. 2 See, for instance, Mark R. Beissinger, Nationalist Mobilisation and the Collapse of the Soviet Union, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002; A. S. Tuminez, ‘Nationalism, Ethnic Pressures, and the Breakup of the Soviet Union’, [J]ournal of [C]old [W]ar [S]tudies 4, Fall 2003; Romuald J. Misiunas and Rein Taagepera, The Baltic States: Years of Dependence 1940–1990, London: Hurst, 1993; Anatol Lieven, The Baltic Revolution: Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1993; Graham Smith (ed.), The Baltic States: The National Self-Determination of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, New York: St Martin’s Press, 1994; Rein Taagepera, Estonia: Return to Independence, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993. 3 The exception being, Jan A. Trapans, ‘The West and the Recognition of the Baltic States: 1919 and 1991: A Study of the Politics of Major Powers’, [J]ournal of [B]altic [S]tudies, 2, 1994, pp. 153–73. 4 Mark Kramer, ‘The Collapse of East European Communism and the Repercussions within the Soviet Union (Part 1)’, JCWS, 4, Fall 2003, pp. 205–6, 211–16; Ibid., ‘The Collapse of East European Communism and the Repercussions within the Soviet Union (Part 2)’, JCWS, 4, Fall 2004, pp. 3–64. 5 Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, p. 181. 6 Jeremi Suri, ‘A New Historical Consensus’, JCWS, 4, Fall 2002, p. 91. 7 Smith, op. cit., pp. 121, 128–9. 8 ‘CIA Intelligence Assessment, “Rising Political Instability Under Gorbachev: Understanding the Problem and Prospects for Resolution”, April 1989 (NSA FOIA)’, document 30, p. iii, in NSA-Document-Collection-Folder: End of Cold War (henceforward NSA ECW); Smith, op. cit., p. 129. 9 Mare Taagepera, ‘The Ecological and Political Problems of Phosphorite Minig in Estonia’, JBS, 2, 1989, pp. 168–70; Antti Kaski, ‘The Phosphorite War: The Role of Environmental Protest in the Estonian Independence Movement of the 1980s’, Idäntutkimus, 4, 1997, pp. 21–38; Matthew R. Auer, ‘Environmentalism and Estonia’s Independence Movement’, Nationalities Papers, 4, 1998, pp. 659–67. 10 Rahvusarhiiv 1-44-90, ‘Eesti NDV-n mitmepartei süsteemi tekkimine (1990.a jaanuaris); Marjut Kuokkanen, ‘Puolueiden muodostuminen Virossa’, Ulkopolitiikka, 4, 1991, pp. 47–56; T. John Ishiyama, ‘Founding Elections and Development of Transitional Parties: The Cases of Estonia and Latvia, 1990–1992’, Communist and Post-Communist Studies, 3, 1994, pp. 277–99. 11 John Hiden and Patrick Salmon, The Baltic Nations and Europe: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in the Twentieth Century, New York: Longman, 1991, pp. 149–50; Toivo Miljan, ‘The Proposal to Establish Economic Autonomy in Estonia’, JBS, 2, 1989, pp. 149–64. 12 Smith, op. cit., p. 139. 13 NSA ECW, Document no. 15, ‘Diary Excerpt Regarding Chernyaev’s View of the Situation in the Baltics, 10 December 1988, from Anatoly Chernyaev, 1991: The Diary of an Assistant to the President of the USSR, Moscow: TERRA, 1997; NSA ECW, Document no. 30, ‘CIA Intelligence Assessment, “Rising Political Instability Under Gorbachev: Understanding the Problem and Prospects for Resolution”, April 1989 (NSA FOIA)’, esp. p. 15. 14 NSA ECW, Document no. 15, ‘Diary Excerpt, 10 December 1988’. 15 Smith, op. cit., p. 139. 16 Suri, op. cit. pp. 80, 82–3 and 85. On the Brezhnev doctrine, see Wilfried Loth, ‘Moscow, Prague and Warsaw: Overcoming the Brezhnev Doctrine’,

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19 20

21 22

23 24 25 26

27

28 29 30 31 32 33

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[C]old [W]ar [H]istory, 2, 2001, pp. 103–18; Matthew J. Ouimet, The Rise and Fall of the Brezhnev Doctrine in Soviet Foreign Policy, Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2003. Rafael Biermann, Zwischen Kreml und Kanzleramt: Wie Moskau mit der deutschen Einheit rang, Paderborn: Schöningh, 1997, pp. 87–100, here esp. pp. 90–1. In Estonia, the ‘Declaration of sovereignty’ (16 November 1988) was followed by the afﬁrmation of Estonian as the only ofﬁcial language (18 January 1989) and the restriction of voting rights of recent immigrants (8 August 1989). ‘Eesti NSV Ülemnõukogu erakonnaline istungjärk: Eesti nõukogude sotsialistiku vabariigi ülemnõukogu deklaratsioon Eesti NSV suveräänsusest. 16 November 1988’, in Mart Laar, Teine Eesti: eesti iseseisvuse taassünd, vol II, Tallinn: SE & JS, 1996, pp. 453–4. Boris Meissner, Die baltischen Nationen, Köln: Markus, 1991, p. 125. In Lithuania, Lithuanian was declared the state language, the inter-war anthem became the ofﬁcial anthem of the republic and the national tricolour ﬂag became the state ﬂag during the 18–19 November 1988 session of the Supreme Soviet of the LiSSR; the latter being a step Estonia and Latvia only took in May 1990. See Misiunas/Taagepera, op. cit., p. 321. NSA ECW, Document no. 37, ‘Meeting of the Politburo: Discussion of the Memorandum of Six Politburo Members on the Situation in the Baltic Republics, 11 May 1989’, from The Union could be Preserved, Moscow, 1995. Document no. 3, ‘The Political Processes in the European Socialist Countries and the Proposals for Our Practical Steps Considering the Situation which has arisen in them, 24 February 1989 [Memorandum of the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs], CWIHP Bulletin #12/13, pp. 68–71, here esp. p. 70. Jacques Lévesque, ‘Soviet approaches to Eastern Europe at the Beginning of 1989’, CWIHP Bulletin #12/13, pp. 49–52. cf. Celeste Wallander, ‘Western Policy and the Demise of the Soviet Union’, JCWS, 4, 2003, pp. 172–3. NSA ECW, Document no. 35, ‘Diary Excerpt, Regarding Gorbachev’s State of Mind, 2 May 1989, from Anatoly Chernyaev, 1991. The Diary’; NSA ECW, Document no. 63, ‘Meeting of the Politburo, Discussion of the Economic Autonomy for the Republics of Belorussia, Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, 9 November 1989’ (Archive of the Gorbachev Foundation). Meissner, Baltische Staaten, p. 283–4. EST-VM Kirjavahetus 1990–1992 Suurbritannia–Iirimaa Laud, ‘Press Conference by Douglas Hurd, Brussels, 27 August 1991’. Misiunas/Taagepera, op. cit., pp. 328–9 and Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, p. 207. Andreas Oplatka, Lennart Meri: Ein Leben für Estland – Dialog mit dem Präsidenten, Zürich: NZZ, 1999, pp. 288–9. Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, pp. 206–9. Meri qualiﬁes Kramer’s view by highlighting that Baltic peoples were at the same time so absorbed in their own developments, that their focus on the Eastern European revolutions was limited. cf. Oplatka, op. cit., p. 281. NSA ECW, Document no. 25, ‘The Soviet Union over the next four years, U.S. Department of State Cable from Ambassador Jack Matlock, 3 February 1989 (National Security Archive FOIA)’; NSA ECW, Document no. 35, ‘Diary Excerpt, Regarding Gorbachev’s State of Mind, 2 May 1989’. NSA ECW, Document no. 63, ‘Meeting of the Politburo, 9 November 1989’. Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, pp. 208–10; George Bush and Brent Scowcroft, A World Transformed, New York: Knopf, 1998, p. 140. Oplatka, op. cit., p. 280. cf. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 187. McHugh and Pacy, op. cit., p. 112. S. Prakash Singha, ‘Self-determination in International Law and its

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34

35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57

Applicability to the Baltic peoples’, in Adolf Sprudzs and Armins Rusis (eds), Res Baltica: A Collection of Essays in Honor of the Memory of Dr Alfred Bilmanis (1887–1948), Leyden: A. W. Sijthoff, 1968, pp. 257–71. ‘SOVA Research Paper, December 1982, Soviet Society in the 1980s: Problems and Prospects’, printed in G. K. Haines and R. E. Legget, CIA’s Analysis of the Soviet Union, 1947–1991, Washington, DC: Government Reprints Press, 2001, pp. 108–10. NSA ECW, Document no. 60, ‘Record of Gorbachev’s Conversation with President of Finland Mauno Koivisto, 25 October 1989’ (Archive of the Gorbachev Foundation). See also Percy Cradock, In Pursuit of British Interests: Reﬂections on Foreign Policy under Margaret Thatcher and John Major, London: John Murray, 1997, p. 104; Mauno Koivisto, Historian tekijät: Kaksi kautta, Juva: Kirjähtyma, 1995, pp. 307–9; Margaret Thatcher, Press Conference in Moscow, 23 September 1990, www.margaretthatcher.org (accessed 4 July 2005). Hans-Hermann Hertle, ‘The Fall of the Wall: the Unintended Self-dissolution of East-Germany’s Ruling Regime’, CWIHP Bulletin #12/13, pp. 131–40. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 190–1. Cradock, op. cit., p. 117; Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 207. Robert L. Hutchings, American Diplomacy and the End of the Cold War: An Insider’s Account on U.S. Policy in Europe, 1989–1991, Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Press, 1998, p. 128. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 192. Margaret Thatcher, The Downing Street Years, London: HarperCollins, 1993, p. 801. [italics here are the authors] cf. Cradock, op. cit., pp. 116–18. Jacques Attali, Verbatim: Chronique des Années 1988–91, Vol. III, Paris: Fayard, 1995, pp. 394–446 Cf. Frédéric Bozo, La ﬁn de la guerre froide et l’uniﬁcation allemande: De Yalta a Maastricht, Paris: Odile Jacob, 2005. Koivisto, op. cit., pp. 308–9. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 172. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 206; Philip Zelikow and Condoleezza Rice, Germany uniﬁed and Europe transformed, Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University Press, 1997, p. 129. Ibid., p. 515. Kramer, ‘Collapse (2)’, p. 21. Lieven, op. cit., pp. 229–30; Kramer, ‘Collapse (2)’, p. 19; Michail Gorbatschow, Erinnerungen, Berlin: btb, 1996, pp. 492–501. Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, pp. 210–11; John, Parker, ‘Azerbaijanis and Armenians accept Baltic Mediation Offer’, Financial Times, 30 January 1990. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 207. Bozo, op. cit., p. 182. Attali, op. cit., pp. 490–2; Bozo, op. cit., ch. 4. Vytautas Landsbergis, Lithuania: Independent Again, Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000, ch. 13. Attali, op. cit., pp. 544, 556. Cf. Werner Weidenfeld, Außenpolitik für die deutsche Einheit: Die Entscheidungsjahre 1989/90 [Geschichte der deutschen Einheit, vol. 4], Stuttgart: DVA, 1998, p. 357; Hutchings, op. cit., p. 127; Koivisto, op. cit., p. 322. Attali, op. cit., p. 559. Bozo, op. cit., p. 250 and esp. his fn. 150. George R. Urban, Diplomacy and Disillusion at the Court of Margaret Thatcher: An Insider’s View, London: I. B. Tauris, 1996, pp. 128–9; Bundesministerium des Inneren unter Mitwirkung des Bundesarchivs (eds), Deutsche Einheit: Sonderedition aus den Akten des Bundeskanzleramtes 1989/1990, Munich: Oldenbourg, 1998, document 235, pp. 987–8; Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 218.

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58 James A. Baker, Drei Jahre, die Welt veränderten: Erinnerungen, Berlin: Siedler, 1993, pp. 207–8. 59 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 215; Zelikow and Rice, op. cit., pp. 241–2. 60 Sonderedition, document 235, p. 988. 61 EST-VM USA ﬁle I ‘George Bush to the press, 23 March 1990’. For a Baltic–American perspective, see Tomas J. Brazaitis, ‘Balts say Bush is agonising over support’, Plain Dealer (Chicago Newspaper), 12 April 1990. 62 Koivisto, op. cit., pp. 321–7. See also Kohl’s views in Sonderedition, document 278, p. 1119; Attali, op. cit., p. 568. 63 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 215; Hutchings, op. cit., pp. 126–7. For a critical newspaper report of US policy, cf. US News and World Report, 9 April 1990 in Hoover Archives, Estonian Subject Collection. 64 On the promotion of Lithuanian–Soviet negotiations, see Margaret Thatcher, House of Commons PQs, 20 March 1990, and 3 April 1990, www.margaretthatcher.org (accessed on 4 July 2005); Bush’s views, Margaret Thatcher, Joint Press Conference with US President (George Bush) after Bermuda Summit, 13 April 1990, www.margaretthatcher.org (accessed on 4 July 2005). See also fn. 55. 65 Baker, op. cit., p. 208. 66 Baker, op. cit., pp. 214–30; Gates, op. cit., p. 527. 67 On Margaret Thatcher’s views and Britain’s outwardly ‘inactive attitude’, see Urban, Diplomacy, p. 150. See also Margaret Thatcher, House of Commons PQs, 17 May 1990, www.margaretthatcher.org (accessed on 4 July 2005). For a French perspective, Attali, Verbatim III, p. 592. 68 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 223–4; Attali, op. cit., p. 593; Sonderedition, document 257, p. 1056. 69 Sonderedition, documents 135, 192, 266, pp. 688, 864, 1081. 70 Sonderedition, document 278, p. 1119. See also fn. 61. 71 EST-VM Taani 1990–1992, ‘The Danish Foreign Minister’s Reply of 18 April 1990 in the Folketing to the following interpellation no. F 25 of 22 March to the Prime Minister and the Foreign Minister . . .’. 72 EST-VM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘“The Baltic states” quest for independence: Iceland’s policy and actions’; EST-VM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘Resolution of the Althing of 12 March 1990 on congratulation to the Lithuanian people’; EST-VM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘Message to E. Shevardnadze, Foreign Minister of the USSR, from J.B. Hannibalsson, Minister of Foreign Affairs, 23 March 1990’. 73 Gudni Johannesson, Studningur Islands vid sjalfstaedisbarattu Eystrasaltsrikjanna 1990 [University of Iceland, 1997 – MA thesis], p. 38 where he refers to Hannibalsson’s address to the foreign affairs committee of the Althing (closed meeting), 28 May 1990. 74 Koivisto, op. cit., pp. 327–8. See also Johannesson, op. cit., pp. 36–7. 75 Sonderedition, document 266, p. 1081. 76 ‘US embassy to MFA of Iceland, 24 March 1990’ from notes of his MA thesis Studningur Islands provided to the author by Gudni Johannesson who got privileged access to Icelandic archival material at the time, but which have been declassiﬁed recently. 77 Attali, op. cit., p. 594. 78 Sonderedition, document 278, p. 1119. Cf. Michael R. Beschloss, At the Highest Levels: The Inside Story of the End of the Cold War, Boston: Little Brown and Company, 1993, pp. 198–203, 216–23, 318–25, 443–4; Jack F. Matlock, Autopsy of an Empire: The American Ambassador’s Account of the Collapse of the Soviet Union, New York: Random House 1995, pp. 268–73. 79 On Mitterrand, Bozo, op. cit., pp. 250–1.

186 K. Spohr Readman 80 Sonderedition, documents 257, 266, 277, pp. 1056, 1080, 1118; Letter published in Bulletin no. 48, 28 April 1990, p. 384. 81 Sonderedition, document 266, p. 1081. 82 See fn.72. 83 Zelikow and Rice, op. cit., p. 257; Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 226. 84 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 221–2. 85 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 225–7. 86 Baker, op. cit., pp. 209–10; Zelikow and Rice, op. cit., p. 241. 87 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 222–3; Zelikow and Rice, op. cit., p. 257. 88 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 225–6. Note: Scowcroft highlights that he wanted stronger US action, not because of domestic pressure but because in his view Gorbachev ignored the USA. But Scowcroft did not want to break consensus and hence did not press his point. 89 Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., p. 227. 90 Sonderedition, documents 267, 277, pp. 1086–7, 1114–18. 91 Kristina Spohr Readman, Germany and the Baltic Problem after the Cold War: The Development of New Ostpolitik, 1989–2000, London/New York: Routledge, 2004, pp. 26–8. 92 Sonderedition, document 299, pp. 1178–80. 93 Margaret Thatcher, Speech at dinner given by Soviet president (Mikhail Gorbachev), 8 June 1990; Margaret Thatcher, Radio Interview for IRN (visiting Moscow), 8 June 1990, www.margaretthatcher.org (accessed on 4 July 2005). 94 Gates, op. cit., p. 518; Zlotnik, ‘Yeltsin and Gorbachev: The Politics of Confrontation’, JCWS, 1, 2003, pp. 146–8. 95 Gorbachev, op. cit., p. 446. 96 Landsbergis, op. cit., pp. 199–213; Zlotnik, op. cit., pp. 146–7; Gorbachev, Memoirs, pp. 446–50. See also EST-VM Venemaa, ‘Statement by USSR President Mikhail Gorbachev regarding relationship between USSR and Estonia, Sunday, 12 August 1990’. 97 Spohr Readman, op. cit., pp. 28–9. 98 EST-VM USA I 1990–1991, ‘Meeting 12 October 1990: Letter from Estonian– American National Council Inc. From Washington ofﬁce: Report on Bush–Savisaar meeting’ 99 Oplatka, op. cit., p. 319. 100 Michael Dobbs, Down with Big Brother: The Fall of the Soviet Empire, London Knopf, 1996, pp. 323–6. 101 EST-VM Kirjavahetus 1990–1992 Suurbritannia-Iirimaa Laud, ‘Douglas Hurd 12 March 1991’. 102 Thatcher, op. cit., p. 821; ‘NSD 45 U.S. Policy in Response to the Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait, 20 August 1990’, http://bushlibrary.tamu.edu/reserach/nsd/NSD/ NSD%2045/0001.pdf (accessed on 4 July 2005). 103 Attali, op. cit., pp. 821–2. 104 Bozo, op. cit., pp. 363–4 and ch. 7; Attali, op. cit., pp. 781–91. 105 EST-VM Prantsusmaa Juuni 1990–Märts 1993, ‘Meeting between Lennart Meri, Thierry de Beauce, Xavier North, Elizabeth Barsacq 23 November 1990’. 106 EST-VM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘Meetings with Baltic representatives [July 1990–February 1991, undated document]’; ‘Statement by J.B. Hannibalsson in the general debate at the UN, 24 September 1990’; EST-VM Taani, ‘Baltic Bureau to be established in Copenhaguen, 28 September 1990’; ‘Letter of Poul Schluter to Savisaar, 15 October 1990’; ‘Danish initiatives in support of the reform process in Central and Eastern Europe, 14 December 1990’. 107 EST-VM Taani, ‘Politiken articles of 21 December 1990’. 108 EST-VM Soome 1990–1992, ‘Põhjamaade ja Baltiamaade VM-e kohtumise

Political rhetoric and Realpolitik

109 110 111

112 113 114 115 116

117 118 119

120

121 122

123

124 125 126

187

aruanne, 20. dets. 1990 Kopenhaagenis’; EST-VM Soome 1990–1992, ‘Declaration of the participating states of Conference 5+3 on the Baltic States. Draft (20 December 1990 Koopenhagen)’. Koivisto, op. cit., pp. 404–12; Oplatka, op. cit., p. 317. Margaret Thacher, Speech at the Paris CSCE Summit, 19 November 1990; HC STMNT: [CSCE Summit], 21 November 1990, www.margaretthatcher.org (accessed on 4 July 2005). EST-VM Prantsusmaa Juuni 1990–Märts 1993, ‘Üleskirjutus vestlusest prantsuse valisminister Alexandre [sic! should say Roland] Dumas’ga, 19 November 1990’; ‘Letter of Michel Pelchat [president of Baltic study group of parliamentarians] to Gorbachev, 21 November 1990’; ‘Letter of Claude Huriet [senator] to Gorbachev, 21 November 1990’. EST-VM Prantsusmaa Juuni 1990–Märts 1993, ‘Republic of Estonia: Paris Declaration, 19 November 1990’. Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, pp. 211–3. John B. Dunlop, ‘The August Coup and its Impact on Soviet Politics’, JCWS, 1, 2003, pp. 96–8; Brian D. Taylor, ‘The Soviet Military and the Disintegration of the USSR’, JCWS, 1, 2003, pp. 40–3. Daniel C. Thomas, ‘Human Rights Ideas, the Demise of Communism, and the End of the Cold War’, JCWS, 2, 2005, pp. 137–8. On the assumption that the crackdown was well planned, Kramer has further argued that most likely, the crackdown would have been worse, had it not been for the peaceful nature of Lithuanian resistance; a behaviour he has put down to the ‘demonstration effect’ of changes in Eastern Europe. Kramer, ‘Collapse (2)’, pp. 47–8. Oplatka, op. cit., p. 326. Oplatka, op. cit., pp. 325–7. Hoover Archives, Estonian Subject Collection, Box 1, ‘[B]altic [A]ppeal [T]o the [U]nited [N]nations: Special Edition, 13 January 1991’; ‘BATUN: Special Edition, 20 January 1991’; ‘BATUN: World Reaction Builds to Soviet Use of Force Against the Baltic States, 21 January 1991 + updates’. Hoover Archives, Estonian Subject Collection, Box 1, ‘BATUN: World Reaction Builds to Soviet Use of Force Against the Baltic States, 21 January 1991’. ESTVM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘Iceland’s prime minister’s letter to Gorbachev, 13 January 1991’; ‘Joint Statement by the Foreign Minister of Iceland and Estonia, 21 January 1991’; ‘Parliamentary Resolution adopted 11 February 1991 – unofﬁcial translation’. EST-VM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘Position Paper presented by the Icelandic Foreign Minister, Mr Jon Baldwin Hannibalsson to the ambassador of the Soviet Union to Iceland, 12 April 1991’. EST-VM Taani 1990–1992, ‘Joint Protocol on cooperation between the Kingdom of Denmark and the Republic of Estonia, 11 March 1991’; ‘Uffe Elleman-Jensen article on Denmark’s Baltic policy in Jyllands-Posten, 4 March 1991’; EST-VM Islandi 1990–1992, ‘NL Välismin. noot Islandile, 15 February 1991’. EST-VM Taani 1990–1992, ‘Eesti Vabariigi Välimsministeeriumi alalise esindaja Arvo Alase eelinformatsioon Pôhjamaade Nôukogu 39. istungi kohta Kopenhaagenis, 23 February 1991’. Hoover Archives, Estonian Subject Collection, Box 1, ‘BATUN: World Reaction Builds to Soviet Use of Force against the Baltic States, 21 January 1991’. Kramer, ‘Collapse (1)’, pp. 213–15. Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 20 February 1991, p. 4. Quote in ICE-MFA Iceland 8.G.2–6‚ ‘Icelandic embassy, Bonn BadGoderberg to MFA Reykjavik, 17 January 1991’ according to Johannesson’s

188 K. Spohr Readman

127 128 129 130

131

132 133 134 135

notes given to the author, and also in diary of ofﬁcial from chancellor’s ofﬁce shown to the author. EST-VM Prantsusmaa 1991.a–1993.a, ‘Kohli ja Mitterrandi kohtumine (Lille) 29–30 märts 1991’; On calculations regarding 2+4 ratiﬁcation, information from diary of ofﬁcial from chancellor’s ofﬁce shown to the author. EST-VM Saksamaa 1990–1992, ‘Kohtumine Hans-Dietrich Genscher, Janis Jurgans, Mavrik Wulfsons, A. Saudargas, V. Katkus, Lennart Meri, J. Luik, 20 June 1991’. Karl-Rudolf Korte, ‘Solutions for the Decision Dilemma: Political Styles of German Chancellors’, [G]erman [P]olitics, 1, 2000, pp. 1–22. On British views, EST-VM Kirjavahetus 1990–1992 Suurbritannia-Iirimaa Laud, ‘Susan Miller (FCO Soviet Dept) to Maido Kari (cc:fax to Lennart Meri), 19 April 1991’; ‘Letter from CRV Stragg (FCO Soviet Dept) to John Probert, 26 March 1991’. On French views, Bozo, op. cit., pp. 364–5. EST-VM Prantsusmaa 1991.a-1993.a, ‘Michel Pelchat to Rüütel, 10 April 1991’; fax by Mrs Talvet, 17 April 1990 ‘“representation diplomatique de L’Estonie à Paris” ’; ‘EV saatkond Pariisi: Raskustest kohtuprotsessi alustamisel 6. juuli 1991’; Meri to Dumas 30 May 1991’; EST-VM USA I 1990–1991, ‘Priit Pallum MFA to Hans Mirka, American Airlines, 20 May 1991’. On British attitudes, see fn. 124 and EST-VM Kirjavahetus 1990–1992 Suurbritannia-Iirimaa Laud, ‘Letter from John Probert to David Ramsey, 5 March 1991’; ‘Sara Webb FT to Eerik Kross, 14 March 1991’. Interview with Hans-Dietrich Genscher, 14 April 1999. Bush and Scowcroft, op. cit., pp. 537–40. Gates, op. cit., p. 525. ‘Speech by CIA Director William H. Webster before the Palm Beach Round Table on 20 March 1989’, CIA Ofﬁcial Use on DDRS (accessed on 4 July 2005).

13 The end of the ‘Baltic question’? The Baltic states, Russia and the West in the post-Cold War era David J. Smith

The History of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania puts a question to the peacemakers of tomorrow: will they accept the lesson of the past and restore those small states to their rightful place of independence so that the Baltic nations can once more live their lives in liberty, contributing, as before, to European peace and progress? That is the BALTIC QUESTION. Unless it is answered aright, the Peacemakers of tomorrow must fail us. (Remarks by an unnamed Western author ahead of the Potsdam conference, 19451)

In the event, the ‘Baltic question’ was not answered by the great power discussions of 1945. Forty-six more years would elapse before the three countries were able to rejoin the community of sovereign states. Arguably, the question was not resolved until 31 August 1994, when the departure of the last units of the former Soviet Army from Estonia and Latvia spelled the ﬁnal end of Soviet occupation. Even then the Baltic states appeared far from realising their stated goals of NATO and EU membership – seen as the ‘ultimate guarantee’ of restored Baltic independence and a proven framework for nurturing stability and prosperity. Remarkably, this goal would be achieved within ten years; according to pronouncements by a number of Baltic political leaders, it was only then that the Second World War ﬁnally ended for the Baltic peoples. The events of 2004 cannot, however, be hailed as a deﬁnitive process of European reuniﬁcation, in as much as EU and NATO enlargement have also highlighted continued lines of East–West political division within the post-Cold War ‘New Europe’. In this regard, the very success of the Baltic states in ‘returning’ to the Western world has frequently exposed the ambiguous position which Russia still occupies in relation to Europe and the wider Euro-Atlantic space. Russia, it is often said, has found it hard to shed its Soviet past. Less obviously, for all the emphasis on legal continuity, the post-1940 history of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania has also posed harsh questions to those charged with rebuilding state institutions and forging new national identities.

190 D.J. Smith For much of the Cold War, the refusal by Western governments to accord de jure recognition to Soviet rule in the Baltic may have appeared to be a purely symbolic gesture. Ultimately, however, it carried immense practical signiﬁcance for nations to whom the ‘alternative, non-Soviet and self-determined national existence’ of the inter-war period served as a rallying point during the 1980s.2 Indeed, the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian national movements adopted legal continuity as their guiding principle. For them, independence was never a question of leaving the USSR, since they had never legally joined the Soviet state. Rather, they argued that the USSR should leave them. As the Cold War wound down, and reuniﬁcation of Germany gathered pace during 1989–90, they were the ﬁrst to come out unequivocally in favour of independence from the USSR, seen in itself as marking a ‘return to Europe’. Brushing aside Gorbachev’s insistence that the Baltic question was strictly an internal affair of the USSR, they argued that it was in fact very much a question of international law and wasted no opportunity to remind the allies of unﬁnished business from the Second World War. Remarkably, the Supreme Soviet of the USSR recognised the secret protocols of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact as illegal under international law and thus null and void from the time of their signature, suggesting that some at least within the Soviet hierarchy were ready to acknowledge the ‘Baltic’ interpretation of the epic events of 1939–40. Gorbachev, however, could have no truck with this, contending instead that Baltic governments had agreed to the entry of Soviet troops onto their territory. He also reiterated the long-standing Soviet ﬁction whereby the Baltic republics had voluntarily entered the USSR in summer 1940 on the back of a popular revolution. This Baltic–Soviet ‘dialogue of the deaf’ presented the USA and its allies with a quandary. However sympathetic they might be to the Baltic cause, considerations of Realpolitik persuaded them of the need to keep Gorbachev in power, at least until key goals such as arms reduction and German reuniﬁcation were resolved. While they never backtracked from the legal continuity position, Western governments would only give full recognition to Baltic independence once it became clear that Soviet power had ﬁnally and irreversibly collapsed. Although some Western governments took their cue from Yeltsin’s Russia and promptly recognised the Baltic declarations of independence, the USA only followed suit on 2 September 1991, after the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies had given its own assent to the process. Tellingly, however, the West did not recognise new, post-Soviet states. Instead, the governments of longer-established powers merely renewed the diplomatic ties with the Baltic countries that had been severed in 1940, thereby honouring the principle of legal continuity. This decision was to have wide-reaching consequences. As far as the international position of the three countries is concerned, afﬁrmation of the continuity of

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 191 statehood ensured that, legally speaking, the Baltic states were placed on a par with the former satellite countries of Central and Eastern Europe rather than being consigned to the category of ‘former Soviet republic’. Notwithstanding the early post-Cold War rhetoric this distinction was absolutely crucial, for it would quickly become apparent that only Central and East European (CEE) states would be considered for eventual membership of the European Union and NATO. In the aftermath of restored independence, Baltic leaders had rushed to declare their ambition to join these institutions. The next few years would conﬁrm that they had avoided the ‘outsider’ status conferred to Russia and the countries of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS).3 Domestically, legal continuity has also had a major impact on the course of state and nation-building, although the degree to which this principle is invoked has shown considerable variation according to country and issue area. As Peter Van Elsuwege has observed, the changes wrought by the preceding half century of Nazi and Soviet occupation meant that any suggestion of restitutio ad integrum was plainly absurd. In this respect at least, legal principles have been subordinated to political considerations.4 Thus, in the case of Lithuania, there was never any suggestion after 1991 that automatic citizenship should be made available only to citizens of the ﬁrst Lithuanian Republic and their descendants. Admittedly, ethnic tensions were far from absent during the transition to independence but national minorities were not sufﬁciently numerous to challenge the ‘titular’ Lithuanian nationality for control of the state. For this reason, it was decided as early as November 1989 to implement the ‘zero option’ of giving citizenship to all residents. A similar pragmatism informed Lithuania’s approach to the question of borders, for the rather obvious reason that it was only after the initial Soviet occupation of 1939 that Lithuania had been able to gain control over its historical capital Vilnius. Similarly, the port city of Klaipeda was only deﬁnitively incorporated into the current territory of Lithuania following the Soviet defeat of Nazi Germany. Any talk of a return to prewar boundaries might therefore raise a question mark over Lithuanian ownership of these territories. Accordingly, the restored Lithuanian state has declared its adhesion to the principle of inviolability of borders established under the 1975 Helsinki Final Act. Nevertheless, Moscow has shown itself ready to exploit the border question in the context of its rejection of Lithuanian demands for compensation by Russia for the damages wrought by Soviet occupation. Lithuania, for its part, can play on anxieties within Russia over the long-term status of Kaliningrad. Matters were very different in Estonia and Latvia, where leaders of the Popular Front movements had initially declared their preference for the zero option on citizenship. They were clearly mindful of a possible backlash from the Russian-speaking communities now making up a sizeable part of each republic’s population. For many Estonians and Latvians,

192 D.J. Smith however, the weight of postwar immigration had been such as to transform the ‘Baltic question’ into one of national survival. Consequently, the Popular Front leadership faced a much stronger challenge from those bent on reversing the effects of Soviet ‘colonisation’. As early as 1989–91, more radically nationalist groups set about creating Citizens Committees consisting of citizens of the inter-war republics and their descendants. The ‘citizens congresses’ which such committees elected were held to be the only bodies with the right to rule on the future of Estonia and Latvia. The right could not be extended to Russian-speaking ‘civil occupants’ who had arrived during the Soviet era.5 This effort to bypass ofﬁcial parliamentary structures was to a large extent motivated by a fear that the local Russian population might block a vote for independence in the Supreme Soviets of the two republics. Such fears proved groundless in the spring of 1990, when the mobilisation of a signiﬁcant minority of Russians behind the campaign for sovereignty seemed to vindicate the pragmatic strategy adopted by the Popular Fronts. The events of August 1991, however, heralded a dramatic shift in policy. A further factor in the Popular Fronts’ support for the ‘zero option’ approach to citizenship was a sense that the national movements should ‘defer to western liberalism’.6 Having embraced the principle of legal continuity, however, the Western powers made no demands relating to citizenship and minority rights in return for their recognition of Baltic independence. This tilted the political balance decisively in favour of the position adopted by more radical nationalists during 1991–92. The latter held the political exclusion of Soviet settlers to be vital if Estonia and Latvia were to enact the kind of decisive economic reforms necessary to break unilateral dependence on Russia and those states that would later make up the CIS. The extension of legal continuity to the sphere of citizenship policy was hardly calculated to improve Estonia and Latvia’s relations with Russia. These deteriorated rapidly after August 1991. Boris Yeltsin’s government had provided signiﬁcant support to the Baltic drive for independence during 1990–91, when the tactical consideration of undermining Gorbachev led Russia formally to recognise the fact of Soviet occupation in its July 1991 treaty with Lithuania. In the wake of the Soviet collapse, however, Russia was never likely to sign up to the concept of legal continuity. Rather, it assumed that the three countries would simply draw a line under the past and accept the realities bequeathed by half a century of Soviet rule. Roman Szporluk argued that Yeltsin started out as a ‘nation-builder rather than an empire saver’.7 Certainly, as far as relations with the West were concerned, the Russian President was committed to fostering partnership and cooperation. With regard speciﬁcally to the post-Soviet area, Yeltsin espoused a civic-based ‘new Russian nationalism’, rooted in identiﬁcation with the existing territorial boundaries of the Russian

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 193 Federation created in 1992. His approach necessarily implied that all of the state borders inherited from the USSR would be deemed inviolable, and that all ethnic Russians living outside Russia would be granted the citizenship of their state of residence. For Russia, as far as the Baltic states are concerned, 1991 is a kind of ‘year zero’: in the case of Estonia and Latvia, the inter-state treaty signed in January of that year, when Yeltsin’s government recognised the three republics’ right to sovereignty, is deemed to be the sole legal document governing relations between the two sides. According to Moscow’s reading, this treaty stipulated that citizenship would be given to all residents – an interpretation that is denied by Estonia and Latvia. Following the restoration of independence, the governments of Estonia and Latvia insisted in line with the legal continuity argument that the 1920 Treaties of Tartu and Riga – under which Soviet Russia had renounced in perpetuity all claims on Estonian and Latvian territory – remained the only legal documents governing their relations with the Russian Federation.8 The current Estonian constitution, approved by referendum in June 1992, thus stipulates that the land borders of the Estonian state correspond to those established under the 1920 treaty. This provision, however, disregarded a border change effected after the Soviet occupation, which transferred around 2,000 km2 of pre-war Estonian and Latvian territory to the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) in 1945. Russia promptly interpreted this as a claim for the return of the regions in question. Already anxious over the preservation of its territorial integrity, it retorted that Estonia and Latvia had ceased to exist in 1940, at which point the Tartu treaties lost their validity.9 In 1995, a member of the Russian Institute of Strategic Studies frankly summarised the Russian position: ‘of course we ourselves are discussing the question of Stalin, . . . but when Estonia says that democratic Russia must pay for these crimes, then we say that it [the 1940 annexation] was not occupation, but, rather, based on agreement’.10 Resorting to this Soviet ﬁction that the Baltic peoples voluntarily joined the USSR became all the more frequent and unabashed thereafter, as Russian national identity increasingly ‘came to be deﬁned by reference to the imperial past’.11 In so far as Yeltsin and his government gave any attention to relations with the former Soviet republics in the immediate aftermath of the Soviet collapse, they appeared to believe that close political and economic relations would simply continue as a matter of course, given the complex interdependence that these states had inherited from the USSR. Moreover, it was assumed right from the start that Russia, the largest of the former republics, would continue to exert a preponderant role within the former Soviet space. Moscow envisaged the CIS not as a mechanism for bringing about a ‘civilised divorce’ between the former republics – to use Leonid Kravchuk’s phrase – but rather as the basis of a more substantial community distinct from the Euro-Atlantic space occupied by the EU and

194 D.J. Smith NATO. Despite the evidence that the Baltic states had no wish to form part of this arrangement, Moscow nevertheless took it as read that it would continue to exert inﬂuence over the three republics within an overall context of ‘good neighbourly relations’ between the former Soviet republics.12 Instead, the overwhelming majority of Balts saw the demise of the Soviet state as a thoroughly welcome development, heralding the restoration of their own national sovereignty and a return to European ‘normality’.13 For many Russians, by contrast, the end of the USSR brought with it a profound identity crisis, in as much as existing conceptions of Russian identity could not easily be separated from Soviet identity. After all, ethnic Russians living within the USSR had long been encouraged to identify not with the boundaries of the RSFSR, but with the territory of the USSR as a whole. The attainment of Soviet superpower had made it possible to establish an unbroken line of continuity with the great power past of Tsarist Russia, while the Soviet identity-building project was also grounded ﬁrmly in opposition to the capitalist West. The notion of continuity between the USSR and the Russian Federation was necessarily reinforced at the end of 1991, when Russia was designated as the legal successor to the Soviet state in international relations. Among the other, more weighty commitments which this entailed, Yeltsin and his government now became responsible for negotiations with the Baltic governments over the unresolved issues arising from 50 years of Soviet occupation. The growing anti-Russian nationalism in the Baltic states at the turn of 1991–92, and the headlong rush of these countries towards NATO and the EU formed part of a wider pattern of events giving the lie to Yeltsin’s vision of a harmonious post-Soviet community. The deeply disruptive effects of Western inspired neo-liberal economic reform and the continued trends towards disintegration of the former Soviet space engendered feelings of impotence and humiliation among Russians. The Atlanticist/liberal internationalist approach to foreign policy quickly found itself under attack from ‘statists’ (gosudarstvenniki) calling for Russia to adopt a more assertive policy within the post-Soviet space. Opposition came too from a neo-Soviet/neo-nationalist ‘Red-Brown’ tendency, variously committed to restoring the USSR and/or redrawing territorial boundaries to incorporate Russians living in neighbouring republics. Inﬂuential sections of the former Soviet ofﬁcer caste feared that the emergence of ethnic conﬂicts within the former Soviet periphery might give NATO – still perceived as a hostile alliance – a pretext to intervene and establish itself in neighbouring states, leading to the isolation and encirclement of an enfeebled Russia.14 Also apparent here was a belief – put into practical effect by General Lebed’s fourteenth Army in Moldova during 1992 – that the Russian-controlled former Soviet army had ‘the right and the duty to defend’ the interests of ethnic Russian communities living in the non-Russian former republics.15

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 195 The Russian government responded to this clamour at the start of 1992 by elaborating the doctrine of ‘Near Abroad’. It held that Russia had a set of interests and obligations towards the former Soviet republics that were distinct from those governing relations with the states of the so-called ‘far abroad’. The doctrine formed part of a broader re-evaluation of Russia’s place in the world, which sought to combine cooperation with competition in international affairs. It views Russia as, by right, a great European power, one that wishes cooperation with Europe, even integration into European institutions, but is accompanied by a special sensitivity to the maintenance of its sovereignty, autonomy and special, great power status. In domestic affairs, the moderate nationalists tended to be technocratic and pragmatic. In foreign relations they were self-styled ‘realists’, embracing balance-of-power, realpolitik theories of international organisation.16 The new world view has been aptly characterised as ‘a combination of western liberalism and neo-nationalism’.17 Its proponents understood the necessity of working with the West in the interests of economic development, but regard Russia as a great power and a separate pole in the international system, with its own set of interests and a claim to exercise a leading role within the Eurasian heartland. In this regard, the doctrine of ‘Near Abroad’ explicitly signalled Russia’s ambition of keeping all of the former republics ﬁrmly within its own sphere of inﬂuence, and pursuing its own ‘order-building project’ – founded principally but not exclusively on the CIS – that would rival those of the EU and NATO.18 Logically, Russia’s attitude to the concept of Euro-Atlantic space was to give primacy to the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) – the only organisation embracing sovereign states from Vancouver to Vladivostok – arguing that this, rather than NATO should be the basis of a new security system. The shift in Russian state doctrine coincided broadly with the start of Baltic–Russian negotiations over the withdrawal of the former Soviet army units – now under Russian command – that were still stationed on the territory of the three republics. Securing the prompt withdrawal of these troops was the immediate foreign policy priority for the three Baltic governments, it being hard to speak of genuine state sovereignty as long as such forces remained. Although Russia had previously underlined its commitment to withdraw the troops, it now refused to give any ﬁrm date for this. Moscow cited technical difﬁculties connected with the withdrawal, and the difﬁculty of ﬁnding accommodation for additional troops at a time when withdrawal was also underway from Eastern Germany and the CEE states. There was undoubtedly some truth in these claims but they do not give the complete picture. Especially revealing in this regard were requests that the Baltic governments should agree to pay compensation

196 D.J. Smith for military installations left behind by the departing troops, or else consent to a continued long-term military presence. For reasons that are not hard to understand, the Baltic governments could have no truck with such proposals. In response to Russian footdragging, they insisted on a rapid and unconditional withdrawal, and raised the issue in every relevant international forum now at their disposal. Once again, the concept of legal continuity underpinned Baltic appeals. It was in this context that Lithuania demanded compensation for the damages inﬂicted on the country by Soviet occupation, a demand that won approval in a referendum in the summer of 1992. Russia’s own appeals to Western opinion fell on deaf ears, with the US Senate threatening in June 1992 to suspend humanitarian aid should no progress on troop withdrawal be observed within a year. In response, Russia resorted to various forms of economic sanctions towards the three countries during the two years that followed. It also sought to bring pressure to bear through international organisations such as the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) and the UN, arguing loudly that troop withdrawal from Estonia and Latvia should be contingent on changes to the citizenship laws in the two countries and an improvement in the rights of the ‘Russian-speaking’ populations living there. Commentators in the Baltic states dubbed this an expression of the ‘Karaganov doctrine’, implying that by cynically posing as a defender of human and minority rights within the former Soviet space Russia might gain international legitimation for its sphere of inﬂuence policy.19 Overall, Moscow’s attempt to achieve linkage between the two issues was a failure: the crucial September 1992 Helsinki meeting of the CSCE simply reminded Russia of its commitment to make a rapid, full and orderly withdrawal. Russia ultimately acceded to this request within two years, although Estonia and Latvia were prevailed upon to make certain concessions regarding the Soviet radar installation at Skrunda and the status of Soviet military ‘pensioners’ living in the two countries. The ﬁnal withdrawal, however, brought no let up in Russian accusations that Estonia and Latvia were engaging in systematic ethnic discrimination and human rights abuses against Russian-speaking ‘compatriots’. Indeed, Russian commentators have routinely used and exploited the citizenship question in these two countries in an attempt to deﬂect attention away from their own country’s shortcomings in the sphere of democratisation and human rights and to bolster Russia’s credentials as a European power. In the process, Estonia and Latvia were decried as exemplars of ‘false Europe’, whose policies were inimical to the values at the heart of the Western project and who should therefore be denied admittance ﬁrst and foremost to NATO, but also to the EU.20 Russia’s efforts to internationalise the Baltic question during the later Yeltsin era can be classed as a spectacular failure. If anything, they may have helped to hasten the westward integration of the three countries,

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 197 while reinforcing a growing sense of distance between Russia and the West. One factor in this was the wholly disproportionate nature of Russian claims – outrageously employing for example the term ‘ethnic cleansing’ to describe Estonia and Latvia’s policies towards their Russian-speaking populations. Despite the undoubted existence of problems connected with societal integration in these countries, Moscow’s extreme rhetoric quite manifestly had no basis in fact, as the CSCE and other international delegations that Estonia and Latvia invited into their territories during 1992–93 quickly recognised. Both countries proved themselves remarkably stable in political terms and soon won reputations as pacesetters in economic reform compared to the other former Soviet republics. In the interests of continued stability and future political integration, the EU did insist that Estonia and Latvia modify their citizenship laws to allow everyone born in the country after 1992 the right to automatic citizenship. However, Western leaders have never seriously entertained the Russian argument that this right be extended to everyone living in the two countries at the moment they restored their independence in 1991. Indeed, in both cases, 20 per cent of the population still lacked full citizenship at the time of entry to the EU in May 2004. Nor has the EU been receptive to suggestions – still voiced as recently as 2004 – that Russian should be made a second ofﬁcial state language in the two countries. Rather, it has supported the project of building unitary nation-states, by providing resources to facilitate the linguistic integration of non-ethnic Estonians and Latvians. It has rightly been observed that the process of EU enlargement simply conﬁrmed that the Baltic states have a privileged place in the Western geopolitical imagination, being seen as closer to the West than other former Soviet republics.21 Rather than focusing international attention on the alleged democratic shortcomings of Estonia and Latvia, Russia’s often bellicose rhetoric did much to ensure that these countries became – in the words of former Swedish Prime Minister Carl Bildt – the ‘litmus test of Russia’s attitude towards Europe’. Naturally, leaders in the three Baltic states did their utmost to cultivate this image during the early years of independence and were not above megaphone diplomacy of their own. In the increasingly bitter war of words that surrounded the issue of troop withdrawal, for example, Baltic commentators portrayed their countries as frontier outposts of Western civilisation that were under grave threat from Russian neo-imperialism.22 In referring to Russia’s relationship with the West, some explicitly invoked the notion of a ‘civilisational divide’, which was put forward in 1993 as a pessimistic counterpoint to Francis Fukuyama’s earlier ‘End of History’ vision of a post-Cold War world. Within this context, membership of NATO was depicted as offering the only ‘ultimate guarantee’ of Baltic independence. Here, the alliance was understood in Cold War, military terms as an instrument of collective defence against the prospect of aggression from the East.

198 D.J. Smith Such a vision, however, was not necessarily in tune with NATO priorities. The alliance experienced its own profound ‘identity crisis’ in the years following the ending of the Cold War, when: the military raison d’etre of NATO – an alliance formed to prevent soviet encroachment in western Europe – largely disappeared, whereas the organisation’s political functions still seemed relevant, especially if NATO sought to take in some of the new democracies in Europe.23 There was no serious prospect of Russian membership of NATO, in that Moscow had no wish for this, even had the alliance been willing to include Russia. Nevertheless, NATO’s professed goal of forging partnership with Russia meant the Baltic governments, which plainly were desperate to join, had to demonstrate their ability to engage positively with their ‘Eastern neighbour’. The same observation also holds true in the case of the European Union, which set out its own vision of relations with Russia in the 1994 Partnership and Cooperation Agreement and the 1999 Strategic Partnership. In the words of one former Estonian foreign minister, the Baltic states had to prove their ability to ‘Europeanise’ their foreign policy – i.e. ‘to adhere to the behaviour standards of European foreign policy’.24 Beyond the key issue of troop withdrawal, the West also asserted a mediating role at an early stage over the issue of transit through Lithuania to the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad, matters being made easier by the signature in 1997 of a border agreement between Lithuania and Russia. Estonia and Latvia also turned their attentions to ‘normalising’ relations with Russia after the troop withdrawals in 1994. Taking their cue at least partly from the EU Balladur initiative of that year they too embarked on a deliberate effort to foster détente over border questions. Indeed, both states made clear that they consented to the physical borders bequeathed to them by the Soviet Union, and would be content with a mere reference to the ‘special signiﬁcance’ of the 1920 Tartu treaties in the text of any eventual agreement. Against this background, fully functioning state borders were erected, and border treaties were drawn up as early as 1996. Admittedly, the insistence from the Estonian and Latvian side that reference be made to Soviet occupation continues to constitute a sticking point as far as the Russian Duma is concerned.25 Nonetheless, the expressions of goodwill by Estonia and Latvia during 1994–96 proved sufﬁcient in terms of keeping the two countries’ ambitions for westward integration on track. As Toomas Ilves remarked following Estonia’s early inclusion in EU membership negotiations: ‘the year 1997 proved that we can achieve our foreign policy goals regardless of whether or not we have a border agreement with Russia’.26 The inclusion of Estonia in the ﬁrst wave of EU applicant countries to begin negotiations deﬁnitively quashed any lingering anxiety that the goalposts might be shifted and the ‘former Soviet’

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 199 dividing line extended to include the Baltic states. Within two years the EU had included Latvia and Lithuania within the negotiating process, and it became clear in December 2002 that the three countries would join the Union together. Ironically, realisation of the ‘hard’ security guarantee inherent in NATO membership was actually conﬁrmed slightly earlier, at the alliance’s Prague summit in November 2002. This would have appeared an unlikely prospect in 1997, when the Baltic states found themselves excluded from the ﬁrst round of NATO enlargement. For all of the insistence that the door remained open, the NATO intervention in Kosovo during 1999 seemed to herald a new, yet more strained phase in relations between the alliance and Russia, which could seemingly only augur badly for the Baltics’ prospects of membership. In the event, the arrival in power of George W. Bush at the end of 2000 revived the prospect of a ‘big bang’ enlargement of NATO to include all of the remaining applicant countries of CEE. The accession of Vladimir Putin to the Russian presidency had also signalled the start of a more realistic approach to the question of the Baltic states’ inclusion in the Western alliance. Calculating that this was something likely to occur in due course anyway, regardless of Russian objections, Putin was reluctant to let this single issue prejudice the entire course of Russia’s relations with the West. Although in the early months of 2001 Putin publicly recognised that the Baltic states had the right to decide their own security arrangements, he emphasised at the same time Russia’s principled opposition to the enlargement of NATO, characterising this as a step that would do nothing to resolve ‘common challenges’ such as international terrorism.27 Somewhat eerily, Putin made the latter claim just a week before the 11 September attacks on New York and Washington which heralded the start of the Bush Administration’s ‘War on Terror’. The latter certainly brought about a short-term rapprochement in Russia–NATO relations, even suggestions that the residual East–West tensions carried over from the Cold War might now be superseded.28 Subsequent experience, however, suggests that the USA and its allies are unwilling to grant Moscow a completely free hand in its own domestic campaign against Chechen separatism, something which predictably led to further accusations of Western double standards. In a move that is in some ways startlingly reminiscent of the Cold War, Russia also manipulated the controversy over the Iraq War in an attempt to drive a wedge between the USA and Europe, thereby seeking to undermine US pretensions to global leadership and to further the vision of a ‘multipolar’ world pronounced by Yevgenii Primakov during the mid-1990s. As to Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania speciﬁcally, the period since EU accession has conﬁrmed an earlier prediction that ‘Moscow’s aspirations to exert its inﬂuence on the Baltic states . . . will hardly end when these states have entered the European Union’.29 Under different circumstances, attempts by Russian capital to secure control of key economic

200 D.J. Smith installations in the Baltic might be construed as entirely normal. Yet, as things stand, Russian inﬂuence continues to be viewed in threatening terms. There is for example considerable uneasiness among Baltic leaders at the EU’s growing dependency on Russian energy. The hostile description of the recent agreement on a direct gas pipeline between Russia and Germany as the Schroeder–Putin pact pointedly reminds the world of past deals concluded over the heads of the smaller states of Eastern Europe. It seems not unreasonable to speak of a continued state of ‘cold war’, given such very concrete issues of political power, which in turn barely conceal diametrically opposed foundational narratives of nationhood. The notion of a transnational identity forming in North-Eastern Europe would imply a new shared reading of history among the peoples of the region as a whole, one that would emphasise the ‘analogy of fate’ that binds them together and views the crimes of Hitler and Stalin as part of a common experience of suffering. Instead, it is national martyrdom that continues to exercise a ﬁrm grip on the political discourse of the countries concerned. Thus in 2004, newly elected Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) from the Baltic states began to call for a declaration of the European parliament condemning the crimes of Communism, to accompany the earlier condemnation of Nazism. Such a concept would be scarcely intelligible to a wider audience in Russia, where ofﬁcial narratives of history emphasise the savagery inﬂicted on the Soviet people following the Nazi invasion and the heroic sacriﬁces, which were made in defeating Hitler. It was this victory which arguably did most to confer legitimacy to a Soviet regime which under Stalin murdered as many as 20 million of its own citizens. Conversely, there are still many on the Baltic side for whom Soviet communism was unquestionably the greater of the two evils unleashed on the region during the Second World War and its aftermath. The overriding emphasis that is given to what is often termed Soviet ‘genocide’ against the Baltic peoples has made it difﬁcult for many to come to terms with the events of the 1941–44 Nazi occupation, when signiﬁcant numbers of Balts participated actively in the murder of Jews living in the Baltic states. This uncomfortable fact is all too often overlooked in a nationalist narrative which has instead focused on the actions of those who donned German uniform for the ﬁrst time in 1944 in order to resist impending reinvasion by the Soviet army. The honouring of men who fought in German SS uniform has, predictably, been exploited by Russian commentators, who today often crassly conﬂate the events of the wartime occupation with the current nationalities policy of Estonia and Latvia. The events of May 2005 – as well as the more recent clashes over the relocation of Estonia’s ‘Bronze Soldier’ memorial – served as a perfect illustration of the continued gulf between the two sides: when commemorations were held in Moscow to mark the sixtieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War, the Presidents of Estonia and Lithuania declined to attend, on

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 201 the grounds that 1945 had signalled the reoccupation rather than the liberation of the Baltic countries. For Russian propaganda purposes, however, this refusal could be construed as betraying residual pro-Nazi sympathies on the part of these countries.30 The USSR and the Western powers came together in 1941–45 to defeat Hitler, but this was never likely to be more than a temporary marriage of convenience. If the Baltic question became emblematic of the East–West confrontation at the heart of the Cold War, the confrontation must be traced back to 1917 and the foundation of the Soviet regime. The ensuing decade of mutual distrust and hostility between East and West left Europe in a poor position to mount an effective challenge to Hitler once he came to power in the 1930s. Thus plenty of Western statesmen continued to regard Soviet communism as the greater evil, while Stalin was haunted by a fear that the West might stand idly by and allow Nazi Germany to direct all of its forces eastwards against the USSR. Inevitably, with Hitler’s defeat in 1945, the old fear and mistrust between the USSR and the West duly reasserted itself. In other words, the Russian Revolution had signally failed to resolve the age-old question of Russia’s relationship to Europe and the West. Back in 1930, the Estonian–Russian liberal Mikhail Kurchinskii argued impassionedly against those who insisted that the events of 1917 had permanently excluded Russia from Europe by transforming it into a ‘Eurasian’ power. ‘Bolshevism will disappear, but Russia will remain’, argued Kurchinskii, at which point the country would inevitably return to its putatively ‘natural’ path of integration with the West.31 Kurchinskii could hardly have predicted that the Soviet regime would last so long or that it would exert such a profound inﬂuence both on Russia and on the states that formerly formed part of the USSR. Bolshevism has gone, but the Russian question remains, and it is integral to continued developments in the Baltic states and the post-Cold War Europe as a whole.

Notes 1 Cited in a memorandum to the Secretary General of the United Nations Mr Kurt Waldheim from the Estonian Democratic Movement and the Estonian National Front, 24 October 1972. In Andres Küng, A Dream of Freedom (Cardiff, Boreas, 1980), p. 266. 2 V. Stanley Vardys, ‘Modernisation and Baltic Nationalism’, Problems of Communism, vol. 24, no. 5, September–October 1975, pp. 32–48. 3 Stephen White, Ian McAllister, Margot Light and John Lowenhardt, ‘A European or Slavic Choice? Foreign Policy and Public Attitudes in Post-Soviet Europe’, Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 54, no. 2, 2002, pp. 181–200. 4 Peter Van Elsuwege, ‘State Continuity and its Consequences: The Case of the Baltic States’, Leiden Journal of International Law, vol. 16, 2003, pp. 377–388. 5 For a full discussion see David J. Smith, Estonia: Independence and European Integration (London, Routledge, 2001), pp. 53–55, 70–74. 6 Riina Kionka, ‘Who should become a Citizen of Estonia?’, RFE/RL Research Report on the USSR, vol. 3, no. 39, 27 September 1991, p. 25.

202 D.J. Smith 7 Roman Szporluk, ‘Dilemmas of Russian Nationalism’, Problems of Communism, vol. 38, no. 4, July/August 1989, pp. 15–35. 8 Lennart Meri, ‘Mis tahes poliitika on alati dialoog’, Interview with Päevaleht, 19 April 1990. In Lennart Meri, Presidendikõned (Tartu: Ilmamaa, 1996), p. 219. 9 Interview between the present author and Consul Vasilii Svirin, Head of the Russian Federation Delegation to Inter-state Negotiations with Estonia, Moscow, 21 May 1995. 10 Author Interview with Anatoli Trynkov, Russian Institute of Strategic Studies, Moscow, 18 May 1995. 11 Viatcheslav Morozov, ‘The Baltic States and Russia in the New Europe: a NeoGramscian Perspective on the Global and the Local’ in: D.J. Smith (ed.), The Baltic States and their Region: New Europe or Old? (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2005). 12 Interview with Svirin, op. cit. 13 Daina Eglitis, Imagining the Nation: History, Modernity and Revolution in Latvia (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2002). 14 Lena Jonson, ‘The Foreign Policy Debate in Russia: In Search of a National Interest’, Nationalities Papers, vol. 22, no. 1, 1994, pp. 175–194; Neil Melvin, Russians beyond Russia: The Politics of National Identity (London: RIIA, 1995); Karen Dawisha and Bruce Parrott, Russia and the New States of Eurasia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994); V. Sorgin, Politicheskaya Istoriya Rossii (Moscow, 1994). 15 Dawisha and Parrott, op. cit., p. 238. 16 George Breslauer, ‘Russia, Baltic States and East–West Relations’ in: V. Pettai and J. Zielonka (eds), The Road to the European Union: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), p. 27; in this regard, cf. Yeltsin’s assertion in 1992 that ‘Russia is rightfully a great power by virtue of its history, its place in the world and its material and spiritual potential’. Cited in Mark Webber, The International Politics of Russia and the Successor States (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), p. 120. 17 Graham Smith, The Post-Soviet States (London: Arnold, 1999), p. 63. 18 Pami Aalto, ‘Post-Soviet Geopolitics in the North of Europe’ in: Marko Lehti and David J. Smith (eds), Post-Cold War Identity Politics: Northern and Baltic Experiences (London: Frank Cass, 2003), pp. 253–274. 19 This refers to an article published in Diplomaticheskii Vestnik in autumn 1992 by Sergei Karaganov, Deputy Director of the European Institute in Moscow, which outlined the utility of using defence of ethnic Russians’ rights in order to further other military–political goals in the ‘Near Abroad’. See the discussion of this by former Estonian foreign minister Trivimi Velliste in ‘The “Near Abroad” in the Baltic Republics, the View from Estonia’ in: A. Brundtland and D. Snider (eds), Nordic-Baltic Security: An International Perspective (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 1994), pp. 57–62. 20 Viatcheslav Morozov, ‘The Baltic States in Russian Foreign Policy Discourse: Can Russia become a Baltic Country?’ in: Marko Lehti and David J. Smith (eds), Post-Cold War Identity Politics: Northern and Baltic Experiences (London: Frank Cass, 2003), pp. 219–252. 21 G. Smith, ‘Transnational Politics and the Politics of the Russian Diaspora’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, no. 3, May 1999, p. 514. 22 See, for instance, Lennart Meri, ‘Meie piir on Europa väärtuse piir’ [‘Our border is the border of European values’], speech given on the seventy-ﬁfth anniversary of Estonian independence, 24 February 1993. In Lennart Meri, Presidendikõned (Tartu: Ilmamaa, 1996). 23 M. Kramer, ‘NATO, the Baltic States and Russia: a Framework for Sustainable Enlargement’, International Affairs, vol. 78, no. 4, 2002, p. 736.

The end of the ‘Baltic question’? 203 24 Toomas Hendrik Ilves, ‘Eesti poliitika Euroopastumine’, Luup, no. 6, 17 March 1997. 25 At the time of writing, a Latvian–Russian border agreement had been signed (and ratiﬁed by the Latvian parliament) after the Latvian government agreed to drop any reference to the 1920 Treaty. 26 Toomas Hendrik Ilves, Address made to the Riigikogu in the name of the government, 12 February 1998. www.vm.ee/eng/index.html. 27 Quoted in Postimees, 4 September 2001. 28 Kramer, op. cit. 29 Teija Tiilikainen, ‘The Political Implications of the EU’s Enlargement to the Baltic States’ in: Pettai and Zielonka (eds), The Road to the European Union: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), p. 18. 30 See Eva-Clarita Onken, ‘The Baltic States and Moscow’s 9 May Commemoration. Analysing Memory Politics in Europe’, Europe–Asia Studies, vol. 59, no. 1, 2007, pp. 23–46. 31 David J. Smith, ‘Retracing Estonia’s Russians: Mikhail Kurchinskii and Interwar Cultural Autonomy’, Nationalities Papers, vol. 27, no. 3, 1999, pp. 455–474.

Index

Acheson, Dean 75 Adenauer, Konrad 101, 109–10, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 120, 125 Afghanistan 63, 93, 95 Africa 93 Albania 62, 89 Albrecht, Charles H. 24 Algeria 89 Allied Baltic Commission 1 Allied High commission 102, 103, 113 Allied Powers 8, 11, 15, 16, 22 Anglo-German naval agreement 1935 13, 17 America see United States Armenia 58, 165 Atlantic Charter 42, 74, 75, 85, 111 Australia 2, 43 Austria 13, 14, 62, 147 Austro-Hungarian empire 7 Azerbaijan 58, 165 Baˇckis, S. 88 Bahmetyev, Boriss 25 Baker, James A. 52, 170, 179 Balfour, Arthur 9 Balkanisation 8 Balkans 7, 16 Baltic bloc 15 Baltic countries: citizenship issues in 192, 193, 194, 196, 197, 200; diplomatic representation abroad 3, 4, 5, 8, 25, 26, 28, 30, 42, 46, 49, 53, 58, 61, 64, 65–6, 73, 75, 84, 87, 102, 103–4, 106, 107, 108, 109, 112, 113, 114–15, 116–17, 118, 121, 126, 137, 138, 145, 148, 150 (see also Estonia, government in exile); nonrecognition of their annexation 2, 4, 28, 30, 33, 43, 45ff, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54,

55, 60, 61, 64, 73, 76, 77, 87, 88, 91, 97, 100, 101, 102, 107, 114, 120, 121, 122, 125, 136, 146, 149, 157, 160, 161, 166, 174, 190; popular fronts in 67, 156, 157, 158, 159, 191–2; recognition of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 11, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 45, 49, 50, 51, 54, 70, 81, 87, 98, 139, 151, 156, 159, 181, 189, 193; restoration of their independence 2, 4, 5, 45, 49, 50, 51, 54, 70, 81, 98, 139, 151, 156, 159, 181, 189, 193; Russian troop withdrawals from 195, 196, 198 Baltic Germans 11, 17, 58, 101, 105, 114, 120, 127 Baltic gold 4, 35, 58, 61, 77–9, 85, 97, 121 ‘Baltic question’ 1, 2, 4, 5, 16, 62, 63, 64, 67, 70, 93, 95, 100, 102, 109, 111, 112, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 145, 146, 148, 149, 151, 158, 160, 162, 173, 176, 181, 189–201 Baltic sea and region 9, 10, 11, 15, 16, 27 Baltic world council 146, 149 Bank of England 77, 78, 121 Barbarus, Johannes Vares 134 Beazley, Christopher 150 Belgium 34 Belgrade conference 147 Belorussia 61, 173 Berle, Adolph A. Jr 36 Berlin question 117 Berlin wall 119, 148, 162 Bermondt-Avalov, Pavel Mikhailovich 16 Bessarabia 57, 114 Bevin, Ernest 73, 74, 77 Bidault, Georges 87

Index 205 Bielinis, Kipras 74 Bildt, Carl 197 Biller, Steven 149 Bilmanis, Alfreds 42, 145 Bisenieks, Georgs 12 Bogomolov, Alexander 61 Bohlen, Charles E. 29 Brandt, Willy 121 Brezhnev, Leonid 64, 65, 90, 91, 93, 95, 96, 159, 180 Briand, Aristide 87 Bukovina 57, 114, Bukowski, Peter I. 23 Bulgaria 73, 89 Bund der Vertriebenen 101, 105, 127 Bush, George W. 52, 53, 163, 164, 166, 167, 171–2, 174–5, 177–8, 179, 180, 199 Cadogan, Alexander 75 Canada 63, 64, 65, captive nations 63, 117, 145, 148 Carter, Jimmy 92 Castle, Barbara 75 Chandler, Walter M. 27 Charter for the New Europe 69 Chicherin, Georgy 12 China 38, 62, 86 Chirac, Jacques 66 Churchill, Winston 28, 57, 85 Coates, Ken 149 comintern 56 cordon sanitaire 8, 13, 14, 16, Council of Europe 5, 64, 117, 119, 146, 148, 149, 150, 151 Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) 5, 64, 69, 70, 90, 123, 144, 145, 146, 149, 150, 151, 167, 168, 175, 176, 196, 197 Crimea 11 Czechoslovakia 8, 14, 21, 22, 34, 73, 89, 121, 176 Damato, Joseph 51 d’Estaing, Valéry Giscard 90, 91, 93, 147 de Gaulle, Charles 60, 85, 86, 88–90 Dekanazov, Vladimir 57 Denikin, Anton 11 Denmark 34, 169, 170, 175, 176, 178, 180 deportations 96, 134 displaced persons see refugees

Dufour, Guy 149 Dulles, John Foster 111 Dumas, Roland 86, 98, 176 Eden, Anthony 59, 60 Edison, Joseph 13 Elleman-Jensen, Uffe 169 émigrés see refugees Estonia 1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, 11, 15, 17, 18, 25, 26, 27, 33, 35, 36, 39, 42, 48, 56, 64, 65, 66, 68, 73, 75, 77, 89, 101, 115, 117, 145, 147, 150, 165, 177, 189, 191–2, 193, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200; coup in Tallinn 1924 11, 12, 56; government in exile 4, 5, 106, 134–40; reafﬁrms independence 1991 70, 151, 178, 180; war of independence 1919 8 European Defence Community (EDC) 103 European Parliament 5, 93, 94, 146, 148, 150, 200 European Union (EU) 144, 145, 148, 189, 191, 193, 194, 195, 196, 198–9, 200 Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) 65, 90, 101, 109, 112, 115, 118; Baltic policy of 4, 100–27, 166–7, 169, 179; émigré organisations in 104–6, 110, 112, 113, 117, 118, 121, 122 Ferdinand, Archduke Franz 7 Finland 9, 13, 37, 38, 60; Baltic policy of 2, 15, 18, 25, 27, 170, 175 Ford, Gerald R. 49 France 18, 26, 27, 57, 58, 60, 73, 118, 147, 163, 165; Baltic policy of 2, 3, 4, 9, 10, 11, 13–15, 16, 34, 61, 64, 66, 68, 84–99, 147, 166, 168, 171, 179 Francis, David 21 Gade, John 23–4 Genscher, Hans-Dietrich 179, 180 German Democratic Republic (GDR) 62, 74, 90, 109, 113, 114, 115, 118, 162, 163 German question 100, 110, 113, 119, 124, 126, 163, 164, 171, 180 German reuniﬁcation 5, 69, 109, 110, 113, 124, 156, 162–3, 165, 168, 169, 173, 181, 190, Germany 36, 38, 57, 87 (see also Federal Republic of Germany; German Democratic Republic); Baltic policy

206 Index Germany continued of 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, 13, 15, 17–18, 30, 60, 74, 191; and USSR 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 26, 58, 59, 61, 62, 65, 78, 101, 110, 111, 114–17, 118, 121, 122, 123, 125, 178–9 Georgia 58, 159 Gibraltar 65 glasnost 67, 79, 95, 148, 158 Gorbachev, Mikhail 46, 51, 52, 66–9, 79, 80–1, 82, 95–6, 97, 98, 149, 151, 156, 157, 158, 160, 162, 163–4, 165, 166, 167–8, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 177, 178, 180, 181, 190 Grava, Joseph 147 Greece 13 Greene, Colonel Warwick 23 Gregory, James Duncan 12 Gromyko, Andrey 64 Gulf of Finland 10, 18, 24 Habsburg, Otto von 94, 150 Hallstein Doctrine 114, 117 Hannibalsson, Jon Baldwin 169, 170, 171, 178 Hartmann, Andreas 150 Helsinki conference and accords 49, 64, 65, 79, 90, 91, 93, 94, 100, 123, 125, 126, 144, 147, 148, 161, 178, 191 Henderson, Loy Wesley 24, 30, 36, 39 Hitler, Adolf 13, 16, 17, 18, 37, 61, 62, 64, 78, 82, 84, 200, 201 Hoon, Geoffrey 150 Hoover 24 Hough, William 1 Hull, Cordell 38 Hungary 14, 62, 64, 80, 116 Hurd, Douglas 79, 80, 81 Iceland 54, 70, 169–70, 175, 176, 178, 180, 181 Ilves, Toomas 198 India 10, 63 International Refugee Organization (IRO) 108 Iran 63, 165 Iraq 53, 69, 80, 157, 161, 174, 199 Ireland 65 iron curtain 50, 90 Israel 10 Italy 9, 64 Jaakson, Ernst 53, 137, 139

Japan 21, 25, 27, 36, 38 Johnson, Sir Russell 150 Joxe, Louis 88 Jurkans, Janis 149 Kaiv, Johannes 28, 105, 136, 137, 145, 146 Kaliningrad 198 Kallas, Oskar 12, 25 ¯ riks 144, 148 Kalnins Ojara E Kamen, Curtis 53 Karvelis, P. 104, 105, 108, 109, 110, 112 Karys, Stepanis 74 Kelley, Robert F. 24, 30 Kennan, George F. 29 Kersten Commission 111, 146 Kint, Tõnis 135 Kirkpatrick, Jeane 146 Klaipeda 10, 15, 16, 191 Klepsch, Egon 150 Kohl, Helmut 98, 124, 162, 165, 167, 169, 170, 171, 172, 174–5, 178–9 Koivisto, Mauno 167, 171 Koltchak, Aleksandr 11 Kopp, Viktor 12 Korea 75 Köstner, N. 25, 26, 27 Kruschchev, Nikita 64, 76, 89, 114 Kudarauskas, Sigitas 68 Kurchinskii, Mikhail 201 Kurdikas, Simas 48 Kuusik, Karl 28 Laaman, Eduard 10–11 Laar, Mart 69 Laloy, Jean 87 Landsbergis, Vytautas 79, 165, 168, 171, 172 Latvia 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 18, 27, 33, 35, 36, 39, 42, 48, 50, 56, 64, 65, 66, 73, 75, 81, 85, 87, 88, 89, 101, 117, 138, 145, 147, 150, 165, 177, 189, 191–2, 193, 196, 197, 199, 200; reafﬁrms independence 1991 70, 97, 151, 178, 180 League of Nations 7, 11, 17, 38, 58 Lebed, Alexander 194 Le Monde 92, 95 Lenin, Vladimir Illich Ulyanov 21 Liegis, Imants 146, 148, 149, 150 Liepins, Robert 104, 105, 106 Lithuania 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 12, 15, 16, 17, 18, 24, 27, 33, 35, 36, 39, 42, 48, 56, 57, 59, 64, 65, 66, 68, 70, 73,

Index 207 75, 76, 81, 85, 89, 92, 97, 101, 104, 115, 117, 124, 138, 145, 147, 149, 164, 165, 167–8, 177, 189, 191, 192, 196, 199; blockade of 79, 97, 149, 168–9, 170–1, 172–3; elects own government 1990 50, 51, 52, 68, 79, 148; and Poland 28, 160–1, 169; press agency of (ETLA) 109; reafﬁrms independence 178, 180; supreme committee for the liberation of (VLIK) 104–5, 108, 109, 110, 112, 138 Little Entente 14 Lloyd George, David 10 Locarno, treaties of 11, 14 Lockhart, Bruce 76 Lodge, Henry Cabot 25 Lozoraitis, Stasys, Snr 108, 111, 112 Lozovsky, Solomon 58 Luxembourg 34 Madrid conference 91, 147 Major, John 80–1 Malta summit 164 Mark, Heinrich 135, 140 Marshall Plan 86 Marye, George 21 Masaryk, Thomas 22 Maurer, Alfred 106, 135, 136, 137 Mayhew, Christopher 78 Memel see Klaipeda Meissner, Boris 2, 100, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113 Meri, Lennart 135, 140, 149 Mitterand, Francois 86, 93, 96–7, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 171, 174, 175 Moldova 173, 194 Molotov, Vyacheslav 59, 85 Molotov–Ribbentrop pact 1939 and secret protocols 16, 17, 18, 33, 36, 57, 58, 62, 67, 68, 84, 85, 90, 92, 96, 100, 123, 127, 146, 160, 169, 190 Moscow disarmament conference 1922 26 Moscow treaty 1970 122, 125, 126 Mussolini, Benito 37 Mutt, Viktor 28 NATO, 54, 65, 86, 88, 89, 113, 170, 175, 189, 191, 194, 195, 196, 197–8, 199 Netherlands 34, 65 New York Times 39 News Chronicle 76

Nordic countries 69, 169, 170, 175, 178 Norway 138, 139, 175, 176 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) 144, 151, 195 Orlov, Yurii 92 Ozols, Karlis 12 Paknys, Juozas 74 Palestine 10 pan-American Union 37 Paris conference 1990 97 Paris Peace Conference 1919 1, 7, 8, 9, 10, 22, 23 Päts, Konstantin 134, 135 Perestroika 67, 79, 95, 158, 160, 165, 166, 180 Piip, Ants 9, 26 Poland 8, 10, 13, 14, 59, 65, 73, 89, 93, 121, 169; Baltic policy of 27, 160–1, 176; German invasion of 1939 16, 17, 18, 34 Pompidou, Georges 90 Poole, Frederick C. 22 Pope John XXIII 49, 117 Poska, Jaan 7, 10 Potsdam conference 49, 61, 62, 67, 109 Pravda 63, 81 Primakov, Yevgenii 199 Prunskienf, Kazimiera 79, 80, 169 Pugo, Boris 174 Putin, Vladimir 199, 200 Radio Free Europe 48, 96 Ramstedt, Gustav J. 24 Rapallo, treaty of 11, 26 Reagan, Ronald 63, 94, 146 Red Army 8, 11, 18, 62, 63, 75 Red Cross 24 Red Fleet 18 refugees 58, 60, 61, 64, 85, 86, 88, 89, 101, 102, 105, 108, 112, 115, 116, 125, 139, 144ff Rei, August 75, 106, 134, 136, 139 Ribbentrop, Joachim von 18 Riga, treaty of 1920 193 Riga group 28, 29 Robins, Raymond 23 Romania 73, 89, 165 Roosevelt, Franklin D. 3, 29, 34, 36, 37, 40, 42, 60, 85, 86 Royal Navy 8, 9, 11 Ruggles, James A. 23

208 Index Russia 1, 3, 7, 8, 24, 25, 189, 190, 191, 192, 194, 195–7, 198, 199, 200 (see also USSR); allied intervention in 21, 22, 23; revolution of 1917 21, 56, 201 Russian Federation 4, 69, 70, 151, 157, 173, 193 Rüütel, Arnold 53 San Francisco conference 145 Sargent, Orme 76 Schmidt, August see Torma, August Schroeder 200 Scowcroft, Brent 165 Seja, Karlis 26 Selter, Karl 104, 105, 106 Shevardnadze, Eduard 172, 176 Siberia 21, 22, 88, 134 singing revolution 47 Smetona, Antanas 138 Soviet Russia see USSR Spain 65 Stalin, J. 16, 28, 42, 57, 59, 60, 62, 85, 193, 200, 201 Stimson Doctrine 1, 3, 28, 38ff Suez 80 Sweden 58, 134, 135, 136, 147; Baltic policy of 2, 5, 58, 138–9, 170, 175 Switzerland 61, 66 Tallents, Stephen 8, 10 Tartu, treaty of 1920 193, 198 Teheran conference 42, 60 Teivens, Aina 147 Thatcher, Margaret 79, 80, 163–4, 166, 167, 168, 169, 173, 175, 176 Tief, Otto 134, 135 Tilsit 59 Todd, Emmanuel 91 Torma, August 12, 137 Treaty on Conventional Arms in Europe 69 Ukraine 52, 61, 64, 174, 181 Uluots, Jüri 134, 135, 140 United Kingdom 14, 18, 22, 26, 57, 58, 86, 163; Baltic policy of 2, 3, 4, 8–13, 15–16, 17, 27, 58, 60, 73–82, 121, 137, 163–4, 167, 173, 179 United Nations 5, 61, 67, 70, 75, 93, 119, 144, 145, 146, 151, 159, 161, 175, 177 United States 1, 58, 86, 89, 90, 163, 168; Baltic policy of 3, 4, 5, 21–8, 29, 30,

33ff, 37, 39, 42–3, 45–55, 60, 63, 64, 70, 73, 103, 111, 112, 113, 119, 136–7, 138, 146–7, 166, 167, 170, 171, 172–3, 174, 180, 190, 196 USSR 15, 16, 50, 51, 73, 86, 87, 89, 91, 93, 94, 109, 110; annexation of Baltic states 1, 13, 16, 28, 33, 34, 38, 39, 42, 47, 57, 65, 73, 77, 84–5, 87, 98, 100, 119, 193; Baltic policy of 8, 9, 12, 13, 18, 25, 28, 30, 35, 37, 52, 56–70, 76, 80, 81, 91–2, 95, 96, 97, 98, 120, 149, 158–62, 163, 166–8, 172, 173, 174, 176–7, 180, 181, 189, 200; disintegration of 5, 18, 52, 69, 70, 81, 91–2, 114, 115, 124, 148, 156, 157, 161, 165–6, 173, 174, 179, 181, 190, 192, 194; and Germany 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 26, 58, 59, 61, 62, 65, 78, 101, 110, 111, 113, 114–17, 118, 121, 122, 123, 125, 149, 178–9, 201; occupation of Baltic countries 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 18, 48, 60, 75, 134, 135, 145, 189, 191, 194, 200 Uzbekistan 173 Valinunas, Joseph 147 ‘velvet revolutions’ 68, 148 Versailles, Treaty of 17 Vietnam 92 Vilnius problem 10 Voice of America 48, 96 Vyshinsky, Andrey 57, 146 Warmer, Aleksander 135, 139 Warner, Christopher 74, 77 Warren, Charles B. 25 Warsaw Accord 1922 15 Warsaw Pact 147, 159, 162 Washington Post 27 Washington Times 50 Welles, Sumner 1, 3, 28, 33, 35, 39, 40, 42 Western European Union 113 Wiley, John C. 38 Wilson, Woodrow 21, 22, 25 World Economic Conference 1922 26 World Federation of Free Latvians 144 World War I 1, 3, 7, 8, 9, 11, 13, 15, 16, 21, 30, 33 World War II 1, 3, 4, 10, 28, 42, 46, 49, 61, 100, 116, 125, 189, 200; and second front 59, 60 Wrangel, Peter von 11

Index 209 Yakovlev, Alexander 68, 70 Yalta conference 29, 61, 62, 67, 73 Yeltsin, Boris 68, 69, 70, 81, 151, 173, 174, 177, 179, 181, 190, 192–3, 194, 196 Young, Evan E. 24, 30

Yugoslavia 62, 115 Zadeikis, Povilas 145 Zarinsˆ Karlis 105, 137, 138 Zhdanov, Andrey 57

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