Unity Day

Today is Baltic Unity Day, when Latvians and Lithuanians mark the defeat of the Livonian Brothers of the Sword by the Samogitians and Semigallians in the Battle of Saule, 22 September 1236. Equinox greetings to pagans everywhere! Saule means “sun” in both Latvian and Lithuanian (saulė) -- the idea of a "battle near the sun” was surrealistically inspiring to me in boyhood (visions of steeds galloping through solar flares). The heathen victory moved artists and poets from the national romantics of the 19th C to today's "pagan metal" band Skyforger, which has a song about the battle that makes use of the early 20th C poet Vilis Plūdonis' lyrics. Jānis Juškevičs published a detailed military study in 1926, available online in Latvian. "Mārasvalsts (Mary's Land, the statelet of the northern Crusaders) stood at the edge of the abyss, and a small strike would have destroyed it. But our ancestors were incapable of national thought..."

But on to another Terra Mariana, Latgallia -- Mōras zeme, Latgola. At nine this morning Latgallian activists will gather at the entrance to the University of Latvia's main building to demand regional language status for the Latgallian language (considered a dialect by most linguists), led by Mareks Gabrišs of the Latgallian Students' Center. Vysi latgalīši aicinōti jimt piketā akteivu daleibu! I'll hide behind Max Weinreich's formulation as to whether it's a language or not: "A shprakh iz a dialekt mit an armey un flot." The announcement of the picket has provoked 687 comments so far at Delfi, the Internet portal that attracts the most wags and jackbooted sputterers -- that's a lot of comments, a density usually reserved for what gets a bigot's goat. Plenty of bigotry in evidence, as always -- čangaļi vs. čiuļi (the first is the somewhat derogatory term for Latgallians, the second the somewhat derogatory term for non-Latgallian Latvians -- čangalis is often used as nigga is by American blacks).

I've lived in Latgallia since 1992 and my mother grew up here, but I'm not Latgallian -- ditto for my wife, who was born here and whose mother was born here. A fervent čangalis would call us čiuļi, and it's interesting to peruse the 1930s Daugavpils "Latvian" (i.e., čiuļu) paper for some insight into the friction -- Latgallia (impoverished, Catholic, Russified, uneducated and rather drunk) resented the "Balts" (snooty, self-righteous, Germanized, Lutheran, exploitative). One hilarious argument is a complaint about the Ludza teachers' association offering a concert in which songs were sung in "bad" Latvian -- i.e., Latgallian. The teachers pointed out that this supposedly "bad" Latvian was actually Italian! The Latgallian newspaper Drywa once offered this line: "Shall we let the Lutheran wolf devour our lambs?"

Language in Latvia is heavily politicized, and the "Latgallian question" has always been suffused with politics. Long separated from the rest of Latvia (Inflanty, its name a Polish corruption of Livland, was long under Polish rule and then a part of Vitebsk guberniya, not included in the Baltic Provinces), Latgallia was subject to Russification long before the rest of Latvia was and more harshly so. I've some notes on some of this stuff here.

A friend of mine was a major Latgallian activist in the 1980s, but swerved a bit and put it aside when the Black Colonel began to take an interest. As some of the comments at Delfi suggest, Latgallian separatism is seen as dangerous because subtracting the Latgallians from the Latvians increases the weight of the Russians. Russophones are often at least as "pro-Latgallian" as Latgallians (for instance here [RU, LV]), whilst most Latgallians are quite comfortable in Latvian. A survey in Rēzekne showed that most there, in the heart of Latgallia, Latgallians included, don't consider Latgallian a language.

On the other hand, Latvian paranoia about "separatism" is often as absurd as bigotry towards Latgallians is ugly. When not tinged with intolerance, it boils down to this -- "we're so small, we shouldn't be divided against ourselves." The trouble with that formulation is that "ourselves" ought to include our diverse elements. I had the good fortune to study under the late Dr. Jāzeps Lelis for a few weeks -- a great linguist and Latgallian, he noted that Latvians say that Latgallian speech and literary Latgallian (it is indeed standardized) are no more than a dialect of the language spoken in the rest of Latvia. If meant to mean that we are one people and speak the same language, no Latgallian would object. But as soon as Latvians meet this "dialect" cheek to cheek, especially in its printed form, they immediately shout that it is incomprehensible and harmful to national unity.

On Baltic Unity Day, I would suggest a meditation on what unity means, in this sense: sameness and homogenization aren't exact synonyms of unity. I can offer qualified support to the demonstrators in Rīga because I think Latgallian ought to be taught -- dialects are part of the living language and Latgallian is one of our language's roots, and a thick one at that. But the Language Law already stipulates that "the Latvian State ensures the preservation, protection and development of the Latgallian literary language as a historical variant of the Latvian language." Making that work requires constructive labor rather than pickets -- the fact is that almost no qualified Latgallian teachers would be available even if Latgallian were declared an official language tomorrow.

I took the photo in Alejas iela here in Daugavpils (Daugpiļs in Latgallian), the second largest city in Latvia and the largest in Latgallia. It's not snowing yet, but the beauty of autumn fills me with dread?

The Roma Programme

I've been translating the National Action Plan for Latvia’s Roma (for the Secretariat of the Special Assignments Minister for Social Integration, AKA the Integration Ministry). Made me glad that I resisted the temptation to translate for Brussels—sifting through reams of legislation (decrees, directives, recommendations, judgments, findings, etc.) in such a structure, the inane complexity of which can be illustrated by the fact that the Council of Europe and the European Council have nothing to do with each other, would have made me hang myself within a few months!

The Programme, though, is a worthy endeavor, and I happen to know that's so because numerous Roma (the p.c. term for Gypsies, who supposedly also consider "čigāni" to be “slightly derogatory") live across the street from us—they’ve been taking advantage of things like free computer courses and small business loans, and they’re thrilled. They are active in one of the NGOs. The sad fact is that despite their abilities (including knowing Latvian better than any minority except the Livonians, who are practically extinct), ca. 98% of Latvia’s Gypsies are unemployed. A huge proportion of our illiterates are Gypsies, most Gypsies have little or no formal education, and about half of the population in Latvia would not like to live near Gypsies (which percentage drops significantly, and tellingly, among those who actually do live near Gypsies).

Then there is their basic vulnerability—Russians have Russia, Jews have Israel, Livs have Estonia... Gypsies have nowhere (a few years ago, some presented a rather postmodern proposal—to join the EU as a nation without a territory).

Not that Gypsies are angelic, of course—it’s a very long and historic two-way street (or the shoulder of a divided highway, with roadkill) full of self-fulfilling stereotypes… I mean, if you won’t hire Gypsies because they steal, they’ll have to steal (or, as in Rīga, get involved in the drug trade—they don’t run it [look to “Caucasians,” especially Chechens, for “Mr. Big"], but not a few are “employed” in it). Getting them to go to school is notoriously difficult. The Programme will train Gypsy teaching assistants for preschools, popularize education, encourage employers’ associations to network with Gypsy NGOs, try to dispel stereotypes among Latvians, and get the Gypsies representation when they are discriminated against.

Last but not least, it will also assist them culturally and in “preserving their identity”—the latter is an interesting thing, because the bigotry directed towards them has obviously assisted them in that regard; without a land and with no aid until recently, their identity still flourishes. I’ve not yet met a Rom who doesn’t speak Romani, despite their centuries of wandering through foreign lands. And then there’s their clairvoyance…

A study of Latvia's Roma is available here. The photograph is of a Roma "king" in Romania, details here. My post was originally a response to Irēna at Latvians Online.