Political Culture under Institutional Pressure: How Institutional Change Transforms Early Socialization (Political Evolution and Institutional Change)

Political Culture under Institutional Pressure Political Evolution and Institutional Change Bo Rothstein and Sven Ste...

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Political Culture under Institutional Pressure

Political Evolution and Institutional Change Bo Rothstein and Sven Steinmo, editors Exploring the dynamic relationships among political institutions, attitudes, behaviors, and outcomes, this series is problem-driven and pluralistic in methodology. It examines the evolution of governance, public policy and political economy in different national and historical contexts. It will explore social dilemmas, such as collective action problems, and enhance understanding of how political outcomes result from the interaction among political ideas-including values, beliefs or social norms-institutions, and interests. It will promote cutting-edge work in historical institutionalism, rational choice and game theory, and the processes of institutional change and/or evolutionary models of political history. Restructuring the Welfare State: Political Institutions and Policy Change Edited by Bo Rothstein and Sven Steimo Creating Social Trust in Post-Socialist Transition Edited by János Kornai, Bo Rothstein, and Susan Rose-Ackerman Building a Trustworthy State in Post-Socialist Transition Edited by János Kornai and Susan Rose-Ackerman The Personal and the Political: How Personal Welfare State Experiences Affect Political Trust and Ideology By Staffan Kumlin The Problem of Forming Social Capital: Why Trust? By Francisco Herreros States and Development: Historical Antecedents of Stagnation and Advance Edited by Matthew Lange and Dietrich Rueschemeyer The Politics of Pact-Making: Hungary’s Negotiated Transition to Democracy in Comparative Perspective By John W. Schiemann Post-Communist Economies and Western Trade Discrimination: Are NMEs Our Enemies? By Cynthia M. Horne Corporate Social Responsibility and the Shaping of Global Public Policy By Matthew J. Hirschland Reconfiguring Institutions Across Time and Space: Syncretic Responses to Challenges of Political and Economic Transformation Edited by Dennis Galvan and Rudra Sil Political Culture under Institutional Pressure: How Institutional Change Transforms Early Socialization By Li Bennich-Björkman

Political Culture under Institutional Pressure How Institutional Change Transforms Early Socialization Li Bennich-Björkman

POLITICAL CULTURE UNDER INSTITUTIONAL PRESSURE

Copyright © Li Bennich-Björkman, 2007. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. First published in 2007 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™ 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS Companies and representatives throughout the world. PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–60101–7 ISBN-10: 0–230–60101–4 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Bennich-Björkman, Li. Political culture under institutional pressure : how institutional change transforms early socialization / Li Bennich-Björkman. p. cm.—(Political evolution and institutional change) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–230–60101–4 (alk. paper) 1. Political socialization—Case studies. 2. Political socialization— Estonia. 3. Political culture—Case studies. 4. Political culture—Estonia. 5. Political refugees—Case studies. 6. Political refugees—Estonia. I. Title. JA76.B44 2008 306.2—dc22

2007014267

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Design by Newgen Imaging Systems (P) Ltd., Chennai, India. First edition: December 2007 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.

To my Swedish and Estonian Family

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CON T E N T S

List of Tables and Figures

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Preface and Acknowledgments

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One

Socialized Culture and Institutional Change: Introducing the Discussion

1

The Context of Early Socialization: Estonia between the Two Wars

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Multicultural Canada and the Welfare State Sweden: Home to Estonians in Exile

49

The Exile Communities: A Surprising Gap in Civicness

69

Five

Did Civic Commitment Survive Communism?

83

Six


Two Three Four

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Appendix A: Variables, Construction of Indexes, and Questions

121

Appendix B: Multivariate Analyses

139

Notes

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References

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Index

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TA BL E S

A N D

F IGU R E S

Tables 4.1 4.2 4.3

Political virtues Tolerance Percent of WVS respondents who confide in public and political institutions 5.1 Citizenship 5.2 Tolerance A.1 Political interest A.2 Political virtues (linear regression analysis [OLS] ) A.3 General efficacy (linear regression analysis [OLS] ) A.4 Trust (linear regression analysis [OLS] ) A.5 Tolerance (linear regression analysis [OLS] ) A.6 Solidarity (logistic regression) A.7 Equality (logistic regression) A.8 The responsibility of the state (logistic regression) A.9 Confidence in public institutions (linear regression [OLS] ) A.10a How to attain success in society (linear regression [OLS] ) A.10b How to attain success in society (logistic regression) A.11 Attitudes toward authorities (linear regression [OLS] ) A.12 How fair is society? (linear regression [OLS] ) A.13 How important are different things in life? (linear regression [OLS] ) A.14 Life Control-Values (linear regression [OLS] )

71 75 81 94 100 140 141 141 141 141 142 142 142 143 143 143 143 144 144 144

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Tables and Figures Figures

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4

Proportion of Estonian interwar respondents believing that efficiency and personal achievement should be economically rewarded at work Trust General efficacy The proportion of respondents who believe that the individual is primarily responsible for her own well-being Perceptions of political competition Confidence in the institutions in country of residence Proportion of Estonian interwar respondents believing that efficiency and personal achievement should be economically rewarded at work Trust If you were witness to a crime? General efficacy

73 74 76 78 79 80 97 99 101 102

PR E FAC E

A N D

AC K NOW L E DGM E N T S

In September 1944 my mother and her sister f led a war-torn Estonia. While my mother stayed in Sweden, her sister Erika continued to Toronto, Canada and became part of a large Estonian community there. Two sisters remained in the occupied Estonia. Even though contacts between the four grew over the decades as the Soviet power opened up, they lived profoundly different lives, spread as they were over the world and on opposite sides of the Iron Curtain. After Estonia regained its independence in 1991, my own contacts with the country, the culture, and our family there intensified. I noticed that despite living far apart culturally, I still could easily recognize my mother’s mentality and values in the thoughts and behavior of her sisters. Values described as essentially Estonian united them, such as a very high consideration for individual achievements and education, a strong repudiation of Communism, a quite developed conservatism when it came to table manners and social codes—and the Estonian fixation with good looks! In other words, they were strangely familiar. Not in everything, though. I remember times of fierce discussions at the dinner table in the semidetached house in Toronto when my mother stubbornly defended the Swedish welfare state and egalitarianism against angry CanadianEstonians who did not want to hear of the Swedish “socialist” experiment where nobody had to work! In Tallinn, my mother’s choice to wear trousers at times became a constant source of sorrow to her even more socially correct sisters. Were not there any proper clothes in Sweden? The idea behind this book was thus partly born out of a curiosity to learn more about how the mentalities and values of my closest relatives had been shaped by being forced to adapt to new and unfamiliar institutional conditions as grown-ups. Did their common upbringing determine any

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of the values that they now shared? Fortunately, how existing institutional contexts affect us individually and how much we are conditioned by cultural patterns socialized in the early years of the life span proved also to be one of the core questions of political culture studies. But for very many who share a history of being uprooted from a familiar context as refugees, labor migrants, by war or by having to suffer occupation it is indeed not only a question of theoretical interest but a realworld problem. This book had not been possible to write without the contribution by the Estonian interwar generation itself. In Canada, Estonia, and in Sweden, several hundred persons have generously given of their time and their thoughts, opening up and sometimes sharing painful memories as questions have generated ref lections on life trajectories that have not always been straightforward and simple. Having the privilege of getting insights into how the fate of this generation can contribute to our understanding of classic questions in political science problems has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my professional life. My three wonderful research assistants, Annika Tamra, Sofie Holmström, and Dr. Per Adman (who has written the appendix) deserve particular gratitude for their commitment and hard work. All of them made this work so much more stimulating. Mrs. Leida Marley in Toronto was a key person and contributed tremendously in helping to gain the confidence of the initially reluctant group of first-generation CanadianEstonians. Through the Eesti Maja (Estonian House) in Stockholm I came in contact with Mai Raudpähn, to whom I am sincerely grateful for help with identifying the Swedish-Estonian respondents. This book owes also many debts to colleagues both in Sweden and outside. Some colleagues have been particularly important. Bo Rothstein, Aili Aarelaid-Tart, Raivo Vetik, Rein Ruutsoo, Harald Runblom, David J. Smith, Per Adman, Katarina Barrling Hermansson, Cecilia Garme, Thorleif Pettersson, Björn Wittrock, and Hans Blomkvist are all among those. I have presented earlier and more comprised versions of the text at research seminars at my home department, Department of Government, Uppsala, at the Old Forum Seminar, Uppsala, the seminar of the Swedish Collegium for the Advanced Study of Social Sciences (SCASSS), Institute for Baltic Studies, Stockholm, Department of Political Science, Gothenburg, Department of Political Science, Tartu, and at conferences such as the Baltic Studies Conference and the yearly conference of Swedish Political Science Association. Anonymous reviewers have contributed to substantial improvements, for which I am truly grateful. I also want to extend thanks to the Senior Editor at


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Palgrave Macmillan, Anthony Wahl, who made substantial efforts on my behalf. Articles based on the material presented more extensively here have appeared earlier in Journal of Baltic Studies 1: 2006 and Nationalities Papers, March 2007. I gratefully acknowledge permission rights from the publishers. A fall semester at SCASSS in 1999 provided me with enough solitude and intellectual company to begin the admittedly long process of thinking about the book. The Swedish Research Council (VR; formerly Swedish Research Council for the Humanities and Social Sciences) generously funded my research and has behaved ideally from the perspective of respecting the necessary academic freedom in not interfering in the intellectual process or demanding monthly reports on every step. The most important persons, my family, must be mentioned. Karsten, the most helpful man you can think of and also my husband, has devoted endless hours to all kinds of support, technical and emotional not least. My beloved children Anna and Oscar forever changed my life and made everything, including intellectual work, so much more worthwhile. Strong-willed and intellectually vital as ever, my parents Laine and Bo, continue to inspire me with their constant interest in everything I do. Such love and affection is a true privilege.


CH A P T E R

ON E

Socialized Culture and Institutional Change: Introducing the Discussion

The Question To what extent do existing institutions particularly determine the political culture of a society, and to what extent does culture exist independently? In this book I return to the question that has been a concern of political science ever since Gabriel Almond and Sidney Verba published their classic study on civic culture in 1963.1 What happens to socialized worldviews when these views fall under the longterm inf luence of political and social institutions that are different from the ones that played a role during a person’s early, formative years? Do the original orientations change? Or do they endure, despite what the new institutional setting seems to “demand”? There are few scholars today who deny the process of mutual inf luence and feedback between how institutions are constructed and values and perceptions people hold in respect to politics. But just how long is needed for institutional impact to begin to show itself on the individual cultural level? While some speak about generations, others claim that single individuals are themselves open to change within their life spans. How institutions and culture actually interact, and what this interplay implies for cultural change are major theoretical questions for political science and the social sciences, but are also questions in need of further empirical investigation.2 These questions focus on the mechanisms that link state and society, on institutions at the macro level, and on value systems and behavior at the micro level. Why should the question of cultural adaptation and tenacity be of such crucial importance? From a political,

2


macro-level point of view, the question of socialization and the individual’s potential for resocialization have far-reaching implications for the understanding of the processes of social continuity and change. Since culture, understood as values and convictions, partly causes action, the extent to which adaptation takes place conditions the speed and the depth of social transformation, as Mannheim noted in 1952, when he wrote that “the problem of generations is important enough to merit serious consideration. It is one of the indispensable guides to an understanding of the structure of social and intellectual movements.”3 How, then, can we actually investigate the dynamic phenomenon of this interaction empirically? The fact that institutions—as may have been the case for the “civic culture” of Britain and the United States— tend in the long run to be ref lected in public attitudes (in the sense that new institutional “input” gradually replaces earlier institutional inf luences) does not tell us much about the independent or dependent nature of culture. For this purpose, dynamic situations in which there ideally are “before” and “after” scenarios of institutional change must be examined rather than a state of equilibrium.4 Where do we find a group of people who have been through a shared process of early socialization yet ended up in institutional settings quite different from their years of childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood? My empirical case in this book involves the quite small Estonian community that grew up under the historically formative years in the 1920s and 1930s. Since 1944 this community has lived either in exile in Canada and Sweden, or remained in the occupied Estonia until its liberation in 1991. I use this interwar generation of Estonians who grew up during the creation of the first independent Estonian state and then almost literally has spread all over the world to shed further light on the political science seminal topic outlined earlier. However, and this needs to be stressed, even though the Estonians, their cultural background, and their life conditions will necessarily occupy space and be of concern here, it should be pointed out that the book should not be read as specifically about Estonia or a particular Estonian generation. Discovering how socialized political culture and institutions interact is the topic of general interest here and this particular generation constitutes an unusually promising case by which to examine this problem. There is often a need to construct something that resembles a social science laboratory in order to investigate questions of this type, for example, by using structured, focused case studies. But there are also already existing opportunities that should not be missed. They are not numerous, but they are there. It is such an opportunity

Socialized Culture and Institutional Change

3

that the Estonian interwar generation represents here. However, by trying to answer the question of the relation between culture and institutions, the study also creates a particular narrative of European history from the perspective of a small and dispersed nation. In a sense it is a story of how parts of “Europe” continued to exist elsewhere after World War II. The individuals in focus here more or less involuntarily separated at a specific historic time, in 1944, when the Soviet Red Army once again occupied Estonian territory leading to mass f light to the West. For many decades they have also been living in societies characterized by often radically different institutions from those of their youth, many of them for over fifty years. That makes this group something of a critical case for the culturalist claims that early experiences endure. If traces of the once socialized political culture in the first Estonian republic are detectable or proved to play a role in one form or another after all this time, then we should most certainly acknowledge their importance. Resocialization, Tenacity, Integration, or Alienation Let me now return to the general problem. There will be ample space for empirical considerations regarding the particular case in the second half of this introductory chapter. On the surface, the question of how culture and institutions interact may appear harmless, but it is really one of the major watersheds in the intellectual history of the social sciences, separating the culturalists on the one hand and the rationalists on the other. In political science, the two theories of culturalism and rationalism have often been treated as opposites, although presently, for various reasons, the common ground between them seems to be expanding, giving birth to hybrid theories such as institutionalism or neo-institutionalism. The many different versions of culturalism all depart from the assumption that human action, thoughts, and desires can only be properly understood when the social contexts in which they arise are taken into consideration. Culturalism consequently assumes that values and preferences—why individuals want the things they want—are externally determined, and this creates a “natural” variation between cultures, or between the subcultures within a larger culture. One of the culturalists’ core assumptions—and it should be noted that the theory is defined here in accordance with the sociological

4


tradition of Parsons and Eckstein5 —is the postulate of early formative socialization.6 In the earlier literature on socialization, the concept of so-called socialization agents played a central role. Socialization agents have been understood as actively involved in the process of transmitting cultural values, either deliberately or nondeliberately. These have been identified as the family,7 the school,8 the peer group,9 media and popular culture,10 and work-life.11 All these are agents—individual or collective—or arenas where individuals interact with each other. It is striking, however, that in some of the earlier works these socialization processes seem to be almost machine-like. Actors appear to be like empty vessels, and the processes of cultural transmission seem simplistic and devoid of complexities. For example, the direct or indirect messages transmitted by the agents of socialization are not in conf lict, as they are in real life, and the way the cultural codes are engraved seems to proceed in an almost deterministic manner. Ronald Inglehart—who like other culturalists assumes early socialization to be formative, and who presents modernization as being in itself a socialization force and thus a cause for cultural change—has done the most to dissipate the mechanistic impression of these socialization processes. In contrast to other theories of socialization, Inglehart believes that general societal conditions, particularly those of a material nature but also seminal political and social events, have a dominant inf luence on the formation of values and orientations of age cohorts. Inglehart hence introduces an external motor of value change, thereby avoiding the recurrent rationalist critique that culturalists are unable to explain social value change. The general material aff luence of the postwar period has encouraged those who grew up in the 1960s and 1970s to embrace values of a “post-materialist” kind, Inglehart claims. As a result, a decreasing focus on security and material welfare, and an increasing prioritizing of values of self-expression, life quality, happiness, and psychological well-being accompany the transition from an industrial to a postindustrial society. The shift toward an aff luent knowledge economy generates a shift in value priorities, and in political preferences. Thus, to follow Inglehart’s lead here, we do not need to know the exact messages, direct or indirect, transmitted by actors such as parents, schools, or peers in order to predict the cultural contents or value priorities of a society or a community. It would be at least partially sufficient to establish the general material and social conditions that prevail when an age cohort matures into adulthood, to then reasonably accurately identify the predominant value structure of a certain period. This


5

is the point of departure in this study, in that I depict the general economic, political, and social conditions that prevailed in Estonia between the wars. These are also conditions within reach, given the position of posterity from which I approach this period. Individuals develop their basic orientations and outlooks in a process of cumulative formation, where experiences from different spheres of life are brought together in attempts to form coherent perceptions of the world.12 This implies, for example, that values and orientations regarding politics are not necessarily formed solely through the inf luence of political institutions, but are also acquired through other experiences. Although perhaps not strongly supported by empirical research, it has been suggested that the way authority relations13 work in other spheres of life—in the family, in the classroom, in peer groups, and at work—creates in the individual a mental picture of how power and authority are exercised in general, and should be exercised. This impression then spills over into the political realm. But, the culturalists state, an individual’s basic worldview is formed by the cumulative impact of these processes up to a certain point in the early years of adulthood, when the process of socialization is assumed to come to a halt. In other words, crucial to this theory is the prediction that the period of childhood and adolescence play a predominant role in forming an individual’s mental landscape, his orientations, and that these formative experiences—childhood socialization—creates effects that last a lifetime. It is interesting, by the way, to note how strongly inf luenced the culturalist family is by psychological theories and psychoanalytic ideas and thinking. Although a conception of human nature as ordered and able to adapt to various contexts and situations has taken root in social sciences such as economics, political science, and sociology, a strong belief in life as a constant and often hopeless struggle to escape the overshadowing inf luences from childhood and adolescence still seem to largely prevail in large segments of psychology, both in its academic and its popular form. Consequently, the culturalists largely refute the idea that institutional changes such as revolutions, reforms, or other major transitions inf luence individuals, once socialized under different circumstances, into profoundly reorienting themselves. Although of course they do acknowledge that the possibility of mental change exists, they insist that this possibility is limited, especially when it comes to basic and deeply rooted mental attitudes. The roots of values and orientations are traced to the conditions that prevailed when the individuals were growing up. “The key question to ask about generational differences is not how old

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are people now, but when were they young” Putnam claims, and hence captures one of culturalists’ basic assumptions.14 Another key culturalist assumption is that, on the whole, later experiences are incorporated into an already-existing mental framework in an attempt to maintain coherence and to avoid dissonance. Culturalists from Emile Durkheim to Max Weber, Harry Eckstein, and Ronald Inglehart all assume individual cultural tenacity, building on a psychological line of research. The family of cultural theories—and the culturalist theory adhered to here is one inf luential variant—constitutes one theoretical attempt to understand social continuity and change. An alternative theoretical framework is that of rationalist theory, also referred to as the economic theory15 or rational-choice institutionalism.16 When the well-known sociologist Jon Elster writes that “homo economicus ” adapts to changing circumstances while “homo sociologicus” is insensitive to circumstances, adhering to the prescribed behavior even if new and apparently better options become available,17 he fails to distinguish that it is the assumption of a predominance of “lagged” prescribed behavior that separates the culturalists and the rationalists. Both theories could, however, well incorporate into their framework the importance played by norms in general, which is demonstrated more and more frequently in the development of rational choice theory and rational choice institutionalism.18 But for a rationalist, an individual, or for that matter a collective like an organization, a bureaucracy, exists predominantly in the present while to a culturalist or a historical institutionalist, the past is always part of the present, although it varies to what extent that is true. Likewise, when Gabriel Almond points to the shift toward support for democracy in West German political culture from the 1950s to the 1970s, or the decline of political trust in the United States of America from the 1950s to the 1970s, as examples of the plasticity of political culture, he does not differentiate between generational change or change within generations.19 Rationalists such as Brian Barry, Barrington Moore, Ronald Rogowski, and Karl Marx thus claim that culture as primarily a ref lection of existing social inf luences and the dominant institutional structure is not “frozen” but is highly malleable. They presume that a change of institutional systems also tends to produce cultural change, hereby denying belief systems any independent position. Advocates of the view of socialization as a lifelong process emphasize that changes in social, political, and economic structures also change incentive structures, which in turn make individuals redirect themselves mentally. Throughout life,


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exposure to different social settings and experiences shape initially embraced orientations. In their original shape as developed within the discipline of economics, the rational choice theories, in contrast to the cultural theories, maintained a major postulate of self-interest. These theories further stated that objectives, values, and preferences are endogenously created, and are thus formed independently of particular social and cultural settings. A striving to maximize utility, defined as (mostly) material selfinterest, exists as a universal motivational structure within human nature. The assumptions of this economic man approach in its original version thus ruled out the need to consider social settings as having an inf luence on preferences, utilities, and objectives. Individuals were analyzed as beings bereft of social ties or structural constraints. Theories of the self-interested individual, directed only by a striving for utility while simultaneously calculating costs and outcomes, have come to enjoy a prominent position in the theoretical development of the social sciences, especially in the more formal versions of game theory. However, during the gradual and all the more successful integration process of rational choice theory into political science, some of this theory’s empirical f laws became apparent as well, and resulted in important theoretical modifications.20 One example of this type of modification is that the tendency to ignore the formative role of social contexts on human priorities, characteristic of the “pure” economic man approach, has been partially abandoned. Instead, a theoretical compromise has been reached, where social context is allowed into the model, by attributing to it a decisive role in the forming of preferences.21 The institutionalists and neoinstitutionalists belong mainly to this theoretical school.22 “There are an enormous variety of human values and goals.”23 Herbert Simon writes, suggesting that these goals are surely determined by the various cultural contexts in which people move. In a severe critique, Kristen Monroe has made the point that in these modified theories rational action has been transformed into any goal-directed behavior, “rather than goal-directed behavior that is self-interested.”24 She claims that the modified version of the theory, therefore, is completely bereft of precision and thus bereft of interest. Other original assumptions, especially the postulate of perfect information and goal maximization, have also been modified, most distinctly by Herbert Simon in his theory of bounded or limited rationality. Regarding the question of the independent power of value systems in determining individual action, what basically separates the rationalists

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or rational-institutionalists from the culturalists is their assumption that once an individual finds himself in an institutional setting with a reward and sanctions system different from the one that prevailed before— when emigrating to a different culture, or experiencing domestic political revolutions or social upheavals, for example—his mental world, once formed in the original setting, will subsequently undergo a process of adaptation. “Changing institutions is expected to produce changes in the behavior and values of individuals, because it alters the incentives, rules and constraints that individuals use to calculate their behavior.”25 When faced with a new political and economic order, for example, individuals are able to redefine and reassess their actions, and their interests. Thus, even though inf luential variants of modern rationalist theory recognize the role played by social context and socialization, the postulate of a calculation of costs and benefits still holds, presumably even for profound attitudes and beliefs. When once-socialized orientations become obsolete, or seem to conf lict with existing institutions and social incentives, the individual can reorient himself mentally. As some well-known rationalists and proponents of modernization theory formulate it, when a person’s social situation changes rapidly or profoundly, she/he may be expected to ref lect that fact by undergoing significant change even in quite basic attributes, at least of their more “social personality.”26 Put in another way, while the culturalists assume that generational effects dominate when it comes to predicting the outcome of individual responses to radical institutional change, the rationalists claim that periodic effects are the crucial key.27 According to the rational choice model, our mental luggage—in the sense of values and preferences that have been socialized into a reasonably coherent “perspective” during the earlier phases of life, most prominently during childhood—is a fairly light burden that can be replaced relatively easily by another worldview that better corresponds to our current situation, especially after lengthy exposure to the new environment. One situation in which the rationalists would predict adaptation is the present transformation of the former Communist countries in Europe and Russia. Accompanying the institutional changes, shifts in the political culture would quickly come to the fore as a result of the new rules of the game. Empirically, however, this prediction is both supported and refuted,28 a result that contributes to further complicating the picture. So far, culturalism and rationalism have been presented as the major, although admittedly somewhat crude, theoretical interpretations of


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individual responses to institutional change and upheaval. However, the dominating conceptualization in the literature of cultural theory, that of assuming relative inertia, is not the only possible interpretation of the manner in which formative socialization in the earlier stages of life could affect individual responses to a changing institutional environment. If that was the case, cultural theory would not be compatible with cultural change, in other words the explanatory value would be relatively limited. Could cultural theory be further developed so as to be able to account also for cultural change while holding on to the basic assumption of the prominent role of early socialization? I focus here on an alternative interpretation that takes as its point of departure to what extent there is a perceived correspondence between the early, socialized culture and the new institutional context that the individual is later confronted with, and how such correspondence or distance then affects cultural reactions. In other words, how well the old and the new match each other can be an independent mechanism that creates political culture responses at the individual level.29 Conclusions supporting the importance for cultural reactions of the structural similarity of party systems between the country of origin and the host country among immigrants have, for example, been presented.30 While these studies mostly have been concerned with partisanship rather than the broader concept of political culture, the major resemblance with the argument discussed here lies in their emphasis on the interaction between the contexts of socialization and resocialization. In other words, if cultural change is of a “path-dependent” type, determined partly at least by early formative experiences, we could well claim that change could be explained by cultural theory. In Harry Eckstein’s numerous and impressive works, the importance of cultural consonance in particular in order to understand democratic stability and “well-functioning” cultures frequently recurs. An individual, or for that matter a culture, cannot harbor too much mental dissonance without great effort, claims Eckstein. Socialized perceptions tend to act as a filter for impressions and information that confront the individual later in life. This filter “interprets” incoming information, and does not allow for much divergence or dissonance. Now, levels of consonance and dissonance not only may be used to characterize a particular political culture, but are also promising concepts in trying to understand what happens on the individual level in the meeting between two political cultures, for example, in a situation of emigration. In addition to resocialization and tenacity, cultural responses determined by the level of perceived cultural correspondence

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between the socialized culture and the new context may well occur. This can generate political-cultural outlooks of closeness or alienation, possibly deviating from the outlooks predominating in the host country or from those of the past. That new values could arise does not then necessarily imply that the formative years of childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood are without importance. Feelings of politicalcultural familiarity in the host country could give birth to greater approval of the system and its institutions, while the opposite could be the case when political-cultural estrangement occurs, creating individual dissonance. Hence, the hypothesis of cultural correspondence is an attempt to further develop cultural theory. By ascribing past institutional and cultural environments importance in terms of the way individuals respond culturally in a new context, the culturalist postulate of the continuous inf luence of formative socialization is maintained. Developing, for example, an ethnic “subculture” in the host country with little resemblance to the political culture in the country left behind may well be provoked by cultural estrangement with roots in the earlier, formative socialization, and thus lend support to the cultural theory. This book is concerned with determining how well these theories can shed light on the present-day cultural responses of one particular group, the Estonian interwar generation born 1915–25. Previous Research What empirical research in favor of each of the two theories of culturalism and rationalism already exists? Intriguingly enough, both theories seem to gain support from empirical data. Here, only a few more recent examples will be mentioned. For example, convincing evidence for the tenacity of political culture was found in a reported study on civic culture.31 The authors found a surprisingly strong correlation between the level of civic culture among various European immigrant groups in the United States and the level of civic culture in their original European nations. Eleven European nations were involved, and immigrants with roots in these various nations—roots dating back several generations—still showed strong similarities with their ancestral contemporaries with respect to civic culture. In investigations of the Communist countries of the Soviet Union, China, Cuba, and Eastern Europe undertaken during the 1970s and 1980s, the authors found little evidence to support the idea that the birth of a “new socialist man” had


11

taken place, in spite of massive efforts at indoctrination and propaganda. “One would suppose,” writes the well-known scholar on Communist political culture, Jack Gray, “that a generation or more of exposure to Communist governments, enjoying formally at least a monopoly control over education and socialization, would produce some change in the political culture of the countries concerned. Yet there is little evidence that this has taken place.”32 Instead, he concludes that the “traditional” and historically rooted political culture continued to dominate the minds of Communist citizens. While these findings support a culturalist perspective, other studies on the success or failure of intense Communist indoctrination come to opposite conclusions.33 Stephen Whitefield and Geoffrey Evans, in examining whether political culture or rational choice best explained reactions to the democratic transitions in the Czech Republic and Slovakia, found strong support for a rationalist explanation.34 Likewise, Reisinger et al., who studied political values in Russia, Ukraine, and Lithuania, found only weak support for a political culture explanation. In testing three hypotheses intended to explain the value pattern found among the citizenry in these former Soviet republics, which is a distinct “political culture” hypothesis based on specific historical experiences, a hypothesis of Communist indoctrination, and a hypothesis involving the process of modernization, the strongest empirical evidence is found for the third hypothesis. “We find weak support for ‘political culture’ arguments—arguments that distinctive features of a society’s history give its citizens a unique pattern of political values,”35 the authors declare. Alex Inkeles and David Smith published an inf luential study on the cultural process of “becoming modern” in 1974. Their initial assumption, stated then as a challenge to the dominant theories, was that adult life experiences and especially “the contribution of man’s work experience,” rather than early socialization, shaped an individual’s values in favor of “modernity.” As Inkeles and Smith write, “Our second motive was to challenge those psychologists who assume that everything important in the development of the personality has happened by the age of six, and certainly by the age of sixteen.”36 Empirically, their rationalist hypothesis concerning adaptation gained strong support. Judging from the reported empirical evidence and from the slightly stagnant theoretical discussion, it seems to be an open question as to whether one theory actually has greater explanatory power than the others. We should rather suspect—as the mixed results from the empirical

12


field seem to suggest—that the theories are complementary and predictive within different fields and under specific conditions. Conceptual Clarifications How can we define the institutional context that the rationalists believe provokes individual cultural change? In the previous pages I have used the concept of institutions to capture the essence of the independent variable. It is also possible to speak about “national culture” and “national political culture.” However, the bottom line is that the new context is composed of the formal institutions, that is, the political system, public authorities, the social security system, and the judiciary system as well as society’s informal norms, rules, and beliefs, that is, whatever constitutes the “habits of the heart.”37 Thus, a society’s impact on an individual emanates from both institutions and culture, and in this book I will not be drawing a distinct line between them, although the distinction will be partly reintroduced when the findings are discussed in the final chapter. The independent variable is thus institutional context in a broad sense, and this concept will be used interchangeably with the less accurate institutions. The dependent variable is the notion of culture defined as subjective orientations, in agreement with a general line of thought in political science. This is a definition that excludes what have been called anthropological elements such as behavior, rituals, and symbols. This was and is one of the more contested issues in the discussion on political culture.38 Here I follow the common “consensus” in the field, and separate culture from behavior so that the concept of culture embraces only subjective values and orientations. While definitions are always arbitrary, one obvious advantage of not adhering to the “anthropological” way of defining culture is that it then becomes possible to empirically test for the causal links between culture (values) and behavior (actions), although this is not attempted in this book. The academic discussion on culture and political culture is filled with various terms. In the psychologically inspired literature, orientations are a term often used to indicate outlooks of a more fundamental nature. Although it is certainly not always clear how the term orientations should be understood or defined, the definition is central to cultural theory. Are orientations to be limited to what Eckstein approvingly calls a few “super orientations”?39 An example here are the four cultural categories of fatalism, hierarchy, egalitarianism, and individualism that


13

belong to the “group-grid theory” originally developed by Mary Douglas and elaborated on by, among others, Aaron Wildawsky.40 These cultural “orientations” are assumed to generate responses to situations and policies in a way that also makes them predictive. In the literature, however, orientations are also understood in a narrower sense, as not just a general view of life but as perceptions of and beliefs about particular phenomena such as politics, government, interpersonal relations, family, and society. Such perceptions are less specific than responses to special situations or events, since they are presumed to be more universal and profound. I have chosen to define orientations according to the latter understanding of the term. This means that the empirical analysis contends with a number of orientations related to various political and nonpolitical phenomena. I focus particularly on the subcategories of political and civic culture. Political culture, as Almond and Verba once defined it, refers then to orientations of a cognitive, evaluative, and affective nature held by citizens in relation to the political system. However, in an inf luential study Thompson et al. argue that the boundaries of what should rightly be included in a definition of political culture are in turn dependent on what they call ways of life (or culture). The egalitarian, for example, defines politics much more broadly than does the individualist.41 Defining political culture as simply the direct orientations toward government rules out orientations of a more general kind that also are important to political life, an obvious example being interpersonal trust and subjective well-being. While not especially directed toward the political system, although definitely “spilling over” into that realm, such general orientations have been shown to have a far-reaching impact on political participation and democratic legitimacy. Experiences of cooperation and democratic practice acquired in nonpolitical arenas such as associations are, for example, often referred to as a potential source of orientations in favor of democratic decision making and authority in large. In the political culture discourse, a consensus has gradually developed— although of course there are exceptions—so that numerous studies today identify political culture as explicit attitudes and beliefs regarding the political system and government, as well as attitudes toward society in large, so-called civic values. The last decade has seen the discussion of civic-mindedness, civic engagement, and the civic culture return to the political science agenda. Robert Putnam’s investigation on the strong correlation between efficient government and civic attitudes, and his piece on the decline of civic engagement in the United States,

14


are probably the most well known.42 In the present debate on civic involvement and commitment, however, some of the attention is focused more narrowly on identifying a limited number of classic civic virtues, ethical attitudes related to our role as a citizen. In this book, the concept of civic values is used mainly to indicate values related to community involvement. The extent of civic commitment shown by the Estonian interwar generation forms one central part of the study. Included here are measures of community involvement as well as of aspects of interpersonal involvement such as trust and solidarity. How is the concept of culture measured? This broad concept has been conceptualized into two categories of orientations, closely linked to the political culture discussion. Other orientations are still discussed in the appendix, but not present in the text. In many cases, I follow previously conducted surveys quite closely, especially the World Value Surveys (WVS). The first category is civic orientations, which relies on Putnam’s and Rice and Feldman’s43 definition of civic culture. The civic culture factors of political engagement, political equality and solidarity, trust, and tolerance are compared. Since I consider it difficult to compare more action-oriented factors, a fourth factor, included by both Putnam and Rice and Feldman, namely structures of cooperation (primarily understood as associational life), and has been excluded from the analysis. Secondly, orientations toward the state and society are operationalized into confidence in and the responsiveness of institutions, state responsibility for welfare, whether society is fair, and how to succeed in society.

One or Many Cultures? Using the term “culture” or “political culture” to depict a unified entity, as is done earlier, immediately reveals a serious problem. It is generally not reasonable to assume that culture or political culture is delimited geographically or by national boundaries.44 While many contemporary scholars claim that nations do not harbor one dominant culture but are instead home to several political cultures, determined less by territory than by level of education, socioeconomic status, age, and ethnicity, well-known researchers such as Inglehart and Putnam


15

still find it accurate to consider entire societies (or even nations) in terms of one political culture. Here, I will simplify reality by adopting a notion of one dominant culture, although I will not exclude the coexistence of parallel subcultures, as in the case of interwar Estonia. In defense of my choice, I quote Stephen White when he notes that “any attempt to characterize the political culture of a nation—indeed virtually any attempt to generalize in history or political science—involves a degree of oversimplification.”45 In the case of interwar Estonia, I can present some reasonable arguments in favor of oversimplifying in just this way. Besides the considerably complex, or even impossible, task of trying to reconstruct in detail the “subcultures” of the different social strata in the Estonian first republic, some conditions actually support the assumption that a dominant culture existed during the short period of freedom and independence 1918–40. The most crucial condition justifying the decision to regard interwar Estonia as culturally rather homogenous is the repeatedly verified lack of radical socioeconomic or educational differences among the indigenous Estonian population (the ethnic stratification that existed between the Baltic Germans, Russians, and Estonians was quite another matter). When, after many centuries, the primarily peasant population finally gained independence and freedom in the 1918, the social differentiation within the indigenous population was relatively insignificant, at least temporarily. “Socially, the most striking aspect of Estonian development was the absence of a native nobility and clergy,” claims, for example, Toivo Raun.46 The 1920s land reforms turned the peasantry into landowners, and when the possibilities for higher education were expanded many Estonians encouraged their children to attend university. The degree of urbanization was low; an overwhelming proportion of the Estonian population was based in the rural areas. Thus, the types of social differentiation, including educational, economic, and professional differences that usually give birth to subcultures, scarcely existed, a fact that helps to at least to some extent justify the assumption of a dominant political culture. Methodological Considerations In the previous pages, the theories, concepts, and rationale of the book have been presented. In collecting the empirical data, 291 people of

16


Estonian origin have been interviewed. In a true sense of the word, they form a political generation. They were all born in Estonia between 1915 and 1925, which means that they were between nineteen and twenty-nine years old when the separation occurred in 1944. By delimiting the age group I have made certain that all individuals in the group had the early formative phase of life—the phase so crucial to the theoretical assumptions of culturalism—behind them when they were separated. The interviews took place in three countries (Estonia, Sweden, and Canada) in 1998, and all of the respondents were personally interviewed in face-to-face interviews that followed a questionnaire with closeended alternatives. In spite of also including Estonians remaining in their country of origin, the book’s comparative focus is on the Diaspora. The possibilities of comparison are much larger for these two groups, and while the Estonians in exile have lived in stable societies since their f light from Estonia, the native Estonians have lived through yet another political, economic, and social upheaval after the fall of Communism. That does not make their present-day (1998) values uninteresting in any way, but it complicates an outright comparison with the two exile communities considerably. However, the patterns for this group have a direct bearing to discussions on the impact of Sovietization and will be analyzed within such a framework. But it should remain clear that these patterns are to be interpreted with some caution. The interviews were conducted in Estonian, Swedish, or English by the research assistants Annika Tamra and Sofie Holmström and by me. The questionnaire focused on values and orientations (for a more detailed presentation, see the appendix) that were divided into five categories: civic-, state and society-, general-, family- and existential values. Statistical Analysis Let me say a few words about the statistical analysis that follows in chapters four and five. The focus has been on the potential effects of institutional change, or the effects of spending major parts of adulthood in settings that differ politically, economically, and culturally while sharing a national context of early formative socialization. The model is thus causal. When causal models are tested there is also a need to control for other relevant factors that may inf luence the correlation in various ways. In the statistical analysis, controls have been made throughout for gender, age, and place of growth (see the multivariate


17

analyses in appendix). For every orientation or value, that is for every dependent variable in the study, analyses have also been conducted in which control variables of the respondents’ present level of education (level of education at the time of the interview) and marital status (whether the respondent is/has been married or not) have also been included. Consequently, it is interesting to observe whether the effect of institutional change on all the different orientations (the dependent variables) changes when these additional factors are controlled for. When included in the analyses, the additional control variables usually do not contribute to change or substantially modify the results or conclusions. When they do, and these are marginal changes, that is accounted for in the endnotes. Additional analyses have also been done in order to more profoundly study the differences between the exile groups. Hence, besides the control variables mentioned earlier, two more have been included in the multivariate analyses. Firstly, a dummy-variable for whether or not the respondent has relatives in Estonia and secondly, a dummy-variable for whether or not the respondent visited Estonia before independence. The factor measuring visits to Estonia could possibly be regarded as an indicator of the level of interaction with the old culture and the SovietEstonian “mentality.” Likewise, the factor measuring the respondent’s relatives could indicate whether or not the person has stronger or weaker emotional ties to his old native country that could affect the process of integration. Again, it is interesting to observe whether the effect of “institutional context” on the dependent variables changes when these two extra factors are included in the analysis. The conclusion here is similar to the one regarding education and marital status discussed earlier; when these control factors are brought into the model, the results are only marginally affected in a few cases, which are commented on in the endnotes. To conclude, in my view there are strong reasons for believing that the results can be trusted and that they are relatively robust.

Selection of Respondents The selection of respondents in Sweden and Canada needs further comment. In both countries, about one hundred respondents between the ages of seventy-three and eighty-three had to be “tracked down” and interviewed. The selection has not, strictly speaking, been random,

18


since a first attempt at implementing that in Sweden left us with considerable problems, which suggested that a random selection does not work very well in this age group. Health problems, mental disorders, and an above-average level of general suspicion are all factors that would have contributed to quite high levels of drop-outs (missing values), reducing the representation of the sample, even if it had been possible to obtain a random selection. It is, therefore, highly probable that even if such a selection technique had been used, we would nevertheless have ended up with approximately the same respondents. The study in any event approaches a random selection in the manner that the Swedish-Estonian respondents were picked out. With the help of the Eesti Maja (Estonian House) in Stockholm, we received lists of names of Estonians in this age cohort, and chose from these lists according to principles such as choosing every fifth or every tenth name. The Swedish Estonian respondents were spread over several Swedish cities—Malmö, Göteborg, Uppsala, and Norrköping—even if Stockholm stands out as the main city of residence. In Canada, a majority of Estonians settled in Toronto, Ontario, a state that lies on the U.S. border. Today, approximately 10,000 Estonians live in Toronto. There are also Estonian communities outside Toronto, but these have not been covered in the study. While the Canadian respondents all lived in Toronto, a vastly spread-out city, there are no particular Estonian settlements in the city (see chapter three). Initially, the idea was to use the same method of selection used in Sweden and the Eesti Maja in Toronto was approached at an early stage, for similar reasons that is, to help provide us with lists of names of Estonians in the crucial age cohort. In the end this proved to be impossible, for various reasons. Although we received lists, and made use of them, they were not as systematic or as complete as the Swedish ones. Furthermore, the Canadian-Estonians were generally far more resistant toward the study and toward us (what was it for? who were we?) than their Swedish counterparts. We were saved by the fact that we had a contact person of the right age within the community who was trusted and quite well known.47 By initially making it possible on several occasions for us to present the project to a larger audience of senior citizens, by asking people to volunteer and by showing others that the study was legitimate, she opened doors that would otherwise have remained closed. To summarize: The selection of respondents did not proceed according to strict rules of random sampling, partly because such a technique was beset by difficulties in the age cohort that interests us here. Instead,


19

selection was adapted to the prevailing conditions. How does the selection process affect the possibility of generalizing to the population of first-generation Estonians in exile? I would claim that even if we need to be careful, there are no strong indications that the respondents deviate systematically in any of the background factors. In modern survey research on political culture, SES-factors, that is, the socioeconomic factors of education, income, and occupation,48 are one of the strongest predictors of an individual’s worldview. A higher level of education positively affects political interest and political participation in the advanced industrial democracies, and it also contributes positively to confidence in institutions and trust in others, to mention a few examples. The Swedish-Estonians and the Canadian-Estonians, however, resembled each other in level of education, which was comparatively high, in level of political activity and in the gender balance in both communities. It is difficult to generalize and, as in most studies, conditions requiring caution occur here. What is beyond doubt, however, is that the conclusions drawn with respect to the theories hold for these almost 200 individuals. This in itself is highly satisfactory. Finally, a few words about the home Estonians. There were no registers or Estonian Houses to turn to, making the task difficult. Instead, we chose to approach homes for the elderly, mostly in the capital Tallinn but also in other parts of the country, and people healthy enough (physically as well as mentally) were interviewed. There is a slight overrepresentation of women, since many men of that generation had already died. The situation in Estonia in 1944, when most of our refugees left Estonia, was one in which geographical opportunities played a decisive role—those who lived by the sea or somehow had access to a boat could leave for Sweden. “Who escaped, and whether they escaped to Sweden or Germany, was to a large extent determined by the actual opportunities to leave,” Reinans concludes.49 As a result, fishermen and small farmers from the coast constituted the largest group of refugees, and people from the northeastern parts of Estonia are clearly overrepresented.50 Level of education and background varied greatly among the Estonian refugees. As Reinans writes,” the Estonians at the time of escape did probably have a larger proportion of people with a low level of education and a peasant background than for example later immigrants from Yugoslavia.”51 Kangro also points out that in terms of social background the refugees probably were representative of the average Estonian population.52 To my knowledge, systematic and reliable data on the socioeconomic profiles of those who escaped does not exist, and thus there can be only

20


informed speculations. There are reasons for believing the information in some of the literature that, to some extent, the “intelligentsia” did leave the country. It has been mentioned that there were probably around 2,000 intellectuals, along with their families, among the refugees. But it is also worth mentioning that deportations of the elite had already taken place during the first Soviet occupation of the country in 1940–41. Thus, the elite had already been reduced. However, Kangro doubts whether, with the exception of scientists, poets, and actors, “the intellectuals constitute a larger part of the refugees than can normally be expected.”53 Could there, however, be any differences between the SwedishEstonians and Canadian-Estonians that systematically inf luence their values? The question is warranted, since it is clear that the CanadianEstonians are more tolerant politically, and have a stronger belief in their own capability and efficacy. It has been hinted by some of the interviewees that the decision to leave for Canada—for some it meant departing from Sweden after a few years—was born out of a fear of living too close to Russia and the Soviet border. While the Swedish-Estonians came directly from Estonia, the road to Canada was more circuitous. Most Estonians arrived in Canada after 1948, either from the camps in Europe for Displaced Persons (DP-camps), or after spending a few years in Sweden. The reasons for such a fear may have been political if these individuals had, to a larger extent, been actively right-wing. But the reasons for moving to Canada from Sweden were not only personal; they were also rooted in external events. Many were forced to leave in fear in 1946, when the Swedish government chose to send back 146 Baltic militaries in response to a Soviet request. A third important reason for leaving was that Canada seemed to offer greater economic opportunities. To summarize, of course there must be differences between those exiles that ended up in Canada and the Swedish group of exiles. However, I have not been able to identify any systematic discrepancies between the groups that could affect the result (i.e., with relevance to the dependent variable).

Reconstructing Interwar Estonia: Life Story Interviews A third consideration relates to the reconstruction of a past political culture, that is, the independent and partly democratic Estonia of the


21

1920s and 1930s, which constitutes an important part of the book. The predominant culture of the first republic constitutes the point of reference, that is, the original culture of the Diaspora and of the home Estonians. As previous studies have also asked, how do we identify beliefs in bygone societies? Similar difficulties have been noted in the literature concerned with establishing whether Communism implied cultural change or not in Russia. McAuley criticizes many attempts at identifying past value systems—where for obvious reasons survey techniques are not an option—for, in the end, including government behavior, citizen behavior and the entire institutional structure in the analysis.54 “How then should one set about discovering the perceptual world of a past social order?” she asks in a sharp critique of some of the attempts at depicting the major features of the Tsarist political culture.55 Methodologically, what many analyses do is to deduce perceptions and orientations from the existing institutions, which begs the question. For example, such analyses conclude that autocratic government necessarily produces weak beliefs in representative regimes, but drawing such a conclusion is to assume a direct causal link between (existing) institutions and orientations (culture), while simultaneously investigating precisely this relationship. The culture of interwar Estonia is not accessible to contemporary empirical inquiry through the presently usual methods, primarily surveys. Instead, to borrow an expression from Eckstein, an attempt will be made to reconstruct some major “cultural themes” through various fragments.56 To approach the “subjective” side, that is, the perceptual world, of interwar Estonia, I turn here to oral sources with the intention of deepening and lending more life to a description of what the historic time of the first republic between the two wars was like for those who grew up in it. Through in-depth interviews with 17 of the 291 individuals who participated in the larger survey, the past of interwar Estonia is approached by trying to grasp some of its spirit through the eyes of its then-young inhabitants.57 The interviews with these now elderly Estonians were done in 1998 and 1999, and centered on several themes relating to childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood. They took the form of life story interviews in which the Estonians interviewed were given ample room for narration and recollection.58 Certain “themes,” however, structured the interviews and provided a rough framework. All interviewees were asked to recall and describe various aspects of their childhood and upbringing, such as the social practices at home, at school, and in civic life.

22


A recurring focus in these narratives is that of the question of the general social conditions in the young republic, for example, what the social stratification patterns looked like, and the mechanisms through which class differences or more integrative ambitions were manifested. Patterns such as these were uncovered in our conversations by posing questions that centered on the rigidity or f lexibility of the rules governing friendships and social life in general, both at school and at home. Classroom situations as well as situations in the family occasionally serve as illustrations. Political life was naturally another crucial theme in the conversations. Each individual’s particular interest and involvement in politics, whether or not she/he, for example, respected politicians, and his/her general impressions of political life and of the way state institutions functioned were all of interest. For those now living in exile, memories of their encounters with an unfamiliar society and their reactions to the transition into exile were also touched upon, partly as a means to uncover the eventual contrasts to life in Estonia, partly as a way to understand how the transition to another institutional context was perceived by those actually experiencing it. The interviews were recorded and later transcribed and translated into English, and were originally conducted in either Estonian or Swedish. Translation necessarily implies that nuances may have been lost, but the general intents have not been severely affected. A few of the Swedish-Estonian respondents were also re-interviewed at a later stage (2000), in an attempt to more deeply penetrate questions of cultural adaptation. We were always heartily welcomed and treated with respect and interest by the Estonian respondents, many of whom also showed a distinct interest in the study as such. The interviews varied in length, from one to five hours. Methodological problems similar to those that occur in other studies where a major aim is to lay bare the mentality (or the mentalities) of a historical period also arise here. What has been valuable in this study has been the opportunity, which still exists, of getting closer to interwar Estonia through the memories of those who grew up there, even though a long time has passed and, needless to say, there are reasons for treating some of the recollections with caution. Human memory is a complicated mechanism, not least because of its selective nature, and quite clearly many possibilities exist to glorify the past, or to slander it. For the elderly Estonians who participated in the study, a very long period of time had passed since the childhood they were asked to recall.


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Furthermore, during this time, many of them had repeatedly discussed the Estonia of their youth with relatives and friends, constructing what is at times called a forceful “collective” memory.59 For example, memories of the Estonian upbringing are often recalled and repeated at gatherings such as family reunions or Estonian parties. Besides being entertaining, these memories also have a socializing function, in that they teach Estonian history to the growing generations who have been born in exile outside Estonia.60 For many of the older Estonians in particular, the first republic has thus gradually attained a special glow, and is a time often referred to with pride and respect. The period of independence between the wars had a special place in the minds not only of that in exile but also of the Estonians under occupation. The “ Estonians’ nostalgic dream of ‘golden times’ of the pre-war independence of Estonia” has successfully been preserved due to the lack of information under Soviet rule.61 Surrounded by such a halo, we could expect memories of the first republic to often be seen through rose-colored glasses. For the purposes of this book, however, it could also be an advantage that the first republic plays such a central part in the minds of the older generation. It is, after all, the constructed past that continues to play a mental role for the individual’s adaptation, not some “objective reality.” Furthermore, we are not asking the respondents to evaluate this period, but to instead recall private life and concrete routines, that is, the practices of everyday life that could help us to understand the dominant mentality. How did they experience it—was it a poor or rich period? Who lived next door? Who did they go to school with? Although the following is just a personal observation, I would also like to add that the Estonians we met seemed, in general, profoundly non-sentimental, viewing not only their youth but also their lives in a surprisingly clear light. Others have sometimes used the term pragmatic to describe the Estonian mentality. Individual differences no doubt exist, but on the whole the impression of a pragmatic and rather “down-to-earth” attitude among the interviewed Estonians remains. Besides the in-depth interviews, contemporary travel accounts have been an additional key to a past “culture” aside from outright research works. For some years after liberation and independence in 1918, the Baltic states attracted the interest of Western European (especially British) journalists and “travelers,” who found these small Eastern states situated at the border between East and West exotic and strange. Some of the impressions that fill these reports from the 1920s and 1930s add to the general portrayal of the society.

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Political Culture under Institutional Pressure Outline of the Book

In this book I delve into one of political science’s major questions by using a quite small community as a case study. Without providing any contextual knowledge that puts this Estonian community into a historic and cultural setting the theoretical insights gained from the study are hard, perhaps even impossible, to interpret. Chapters two and three are devoted to portraying firstly the context of early socialization, that is the Estonian interwar republic, and secondly the multicultural “frontier” federal state of Canada and the egalitarian welfarist Sweden, both homes to the Estonians in exile. Chapter four presents an empirical comparison of the civic commitment of the two exile communities. Chapter five looks at the problematic of civicness enduring among the home Estonians who experienced several institutional changes, from totalitarian Stalinism to authoritarian Soviet rule and then the restoration of democratic institutions in the 1990s. Finally, in chapter six the empirical conclusions with respect to how political culture reacts to institutional pressure are interpreted in the light of the theoretical perspectives introduced in this first chapter.

CH A P T E R

T WO


Introduction An exotic and bohemian setting to a western journalist, to others a country of almost “European” standing—this was the young Estonian republic in which the individuals of the political generation that constitutes the empirical case in this book grew up.1 This chapter is an attempt to portray the state and society in which their early socialization took place, with a particular focus on exploring the predominating cultural themes that could have inf luenced these individuals in an enduring manner. I seek to describe basic cultural features of interwar Estonia through the eyes of my interviewees in order to have some knowledge about the country that was left behind: Estonia between the two wars. Estonia—a Brief Orientation Estonia at the time—the 1920s and 1930s—was a new and small European state on the outskirts of Northern Europe, struggling hard to be like the mainland of Europe, both culturally and politically, and to acquire a place within the “European House.”2 In 1918, Estonia became an independent state. On February 2, 1920 the Treaty of Tartu was signed, by means of which the powerful and threatening neighbor USSR finally recognized Estonia’s independence. After 700 years of

26


foreign rule, including domination by Russia, Sweden, and Germany, Estonia was, for the first time, ruled by Estonians. Independence had been preceded by the disintegration of the German Empire, but most importantly by an extensive war of liberation against the Bolsheviks as well as against German troops. The men who in different ways had played decisive roles in this nationalist struggle, Johan Laidoner, Konstantin Päts, and Jaan Tõnisson, were all rewarded and came to hold important political positions in the new republic.3 By 1940, after only twenty years, the short period of independence was already over. The three Baltic States were incorporated into the USSR in accordance with the disastrous and secret agreement with which the foreign ministers of Germany and the USSR established their respective spheres of interest, dividing large parts of Europe between them. It was clearly demonstrated that Germany and Russia (Soviet), the two powers that had made their mark on the Baltic territory for centuries, once again directed development in the area. This effectively sealed Estonia’s fate and, aside from a few years of German occupation between 1941 and 1944, she remained under Soviet rule until the disintegration of the Soviet Empire in 1991, as one of fifteen Soviet republics. In looking back at interwar Estonia, a number of “cultural themes” appear in most accounts of the time. A cultural theme is best understood as an especially salient value, which is considered as significant of a particular context: “an orientation occurs with especially great uniformity in a culture,” as Eckstein formulates it.4 He exemplifies by the significance attached to equality in de Tocqueville’s analysis of the United States in the nineteenth century. Another example is the Swedish preoccupation with egalitarianism. In Estonia’s first republic communalism, individualism, achievement orientation, tolerance, and political skepticism come to mind as meriting the notation of cultural themes. Let me start by briefly discussing the prevalent communalism. Communalism Estonian society between 1920 and 1940 was indeed highly communal. Civil society was vibrant, and voluntary associations covering various aspects of life and diverse fields of interest filled the country as recalled by the interviewees. Estonia in these days was what Robert Putnam today, with reference to the United States, calls a nation of “joiners,” and the resemblance to American society is no coincidence.5 The activities

The Context of Early Socialization

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stopped at outspokenly political organizations, which few if any of the interviewees remember taking part in. But choirs were abundant, as were youth organizations such as the Scouts for boys and the Home Daughters for girls. Almost all of the interviewees had, as they remembered, been active in organizations themselves, like the Scouts, or the Young Eagles, and since the time they were asked to recall coincided to a great extent with their school years, many of them describe the intense activity of associations in the Gymnasiums in particular. The parents of the interwar generation were also taking active part in the associational life in Estonia. Once again, this excludes political parties or popular movements, which were not salient. “My father was a real ‘joiner,’ he was never at home,” says Helge, and explains that for his father, the activities were mostly in connection to his agricultural production. However, his mother was more drawn to cultural activities, and a member of a theatre group and a choir.6 If cultural and cooperative organizations dominated associational life in the first years of independence, the Communist coup in 1924, believed to have been orchestrated from within Russia, gave rise to organizations with military overtones: the Home Defense leagues and the Home Guard prospered.7 The Estonians feared the Russian rulers and never felt completely safe, and the participation in the Home Defense leagues thus grew during the entire period. There are indications that even though associations prospered, they were not always based on principles of horizontal relations and internal democracy. As when Ülo remembers about the Young Eagles: “It was fairly strict. It was a hierarchy, with leaders and assistants. Everything was quite well-organized.”8 How can the intense will to form associations and organizations covering most spheres of life be understood in the Estonian context? The American example shows that individualism, which as we will see was quite a salient feature of the Estonian culture, very well can give birth to a vibrant civil society. In the Estonian case, the particular historic situation serves as one additional explanation: The Estonians had had rare opportunities to make their voices heard and then all these associations they became . . . to sing together and to discuss. It was like pulling out the plug and all of a sudden. Everything explodes in a lust for activity! The people had a need to show strength. It simply was a way to channel the surplus energy generated, the awakened pride of being independent.9

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The will to associate with one another must also have rested on a sense of trust in society, which may have emanated from the shared suffering, the historic experiences, and the similar living conditions that many found themselves in. Joining together in organizations became also an expression of citizenship: Estonia was a young state that needed you. Communalism has continued in exile. The Estonians in both Sweden and Canada have organized themselves vividly, already from the start, within the refugee camps in Sweden and in Germany. But in addition to the associations typical of interwar Estonia—Scouts, Home Daughters, choirs, and cultural organizations—political organizations became much more common in exile than they ever were in Estonia. Their aim, to struggle against the Soviet occupation and for a free Estonia, mobilized the strong sentiments of national identity. Interwar Estonians who have lived in exile attribute their faithfulness to the Estonia of their youth to the vibrant associational activities within the Estonian communities. Through these numerous organizations, the values and mentality from interwar Estonia has been kept alive. In Estonia, on the contrary, there has been almost an urge to forget the first republic as it once was. “They have been as harassed by the Communist regime as I see it, that they have forgotten much more than I have about Estonia before the Russian occupation.”10 Individuality A strong individualism remained one of the most significant features of the Estonian mentality back in the 1920s and 1930s, and formed an important part of the early socialization fabric. Estonian individualism has sometimes been contrasted with the more communal or collectivist Russian mind, with this difference expressing itself in, for example, the way Estonian and Russian villages have been planned.11 While in Russian villages the farmsteads and houses were built close together, in Estonia the houses were placed far apart, sometimes interpreted as a symbol of the individualist Estonian peasant. To trace the roots of individualism we have to consider the longue durée of Estonian history and how it shaped the preconditions for Estonian independence. A highly significant aspect of Estonia’s history is the prolonged reign of the Baltic German nobility, which all in all lasted for many centuries. In the aftermath of the Great Northern War, when Sweden lost


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control over the Baltic provinces, the German Barons in Estonia who dominated the region further strengthened their control over the province, especially in relation to the administrative institutions, the estates, and the native serfs, while the Estonian territory as such remained part of the greater Russian Empire.12 In exchange for maintaining “order” in the Baltic provinces to the benefit of the Russian tsar, the German Barons were granted full autonomy over Estonian territory. Their actual rule lasted from the beginning of the eighteenth century until World War I broke out in 1914, although it was challenged from the mid-nineteenth century by Russia’s growing desire to exercise inf luence in the region, as well as by a successively growing Estonian nationalism. During the second half of the nineteenth century, the pan-Slavic movement swept through Russia. Pressure was gradually exerted on the Baltic German rulers by rising and nationalist Estonian elite on the one hand, and a growing Russian administrative class increasingly laying claim to positions and power in provinces such as the Baltic, on the other.13 The manor lords had largely been left to mind their own business through the centuries. Now things started to change rapidly. Their power was seriously challenged, both from Estonians and Russians. Russification did eventually result in a dual power structure; while the Russians dominated the provincial administration (i.e., “central” government), education ,and the courts, local self-government and agrarian policy remained a Baltic German responsibility, sometimes combined with a certain Estonian inf luence, as examples from the capital, Tallinn, illustrate. Immediately after independence in 1918 the land reform, which would contribute decisively to radically changing the power structure, became the most burning political issue in the new republic. It is not an exaggeration to judge the implementation of the Agrarian Law as the most important political measure undertaken during the first republic, since this reform profoundly transformed the social structure of the country. Overnight, it turned a “feudal” peasantry into a nation of propertied small farmers.14 When the Estonian State was established, the Baltic German families still owned 58 percent of the land, while the rest was in the hands of the “Grey Barons,” in Estonia the name for peasants who successively had been able to buy land from the feudal lords. However, a large majority of the population was without either land or other resources. In 1919, the Constitutional Assembly passed a law that expropriated all non-peasant landlords and turned their holdings into state property. During the interwar period Estonia thus continued to be primarily an agrarian state, but was now dominated by

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peasants who owned their own small farms instead of a small number of feudal landlords. At the beginning of independence, 60 percent of the Estonian population was engaged in agriculture (the corresponding figure for Latvia was 66 percent, for Lithuania 78 percent).15 Although industrialization and urbanization was on the way, a large part of the population, between 60 and 70 percent, was still residing in the countryside, which surely shaped their values and ways of thinking. “That is an agricultural country. Their President was born on a farm and was and still is a farmer,” exclaimed the journalist John Gibbons, while traveling through Estonia in the late 1930s.16 Due to the former nondemocratic and imperialist structure, which allowed few indigenous Estonians to rise to elite positions, even the “big men” in the state like the president Konstantin Päts had peasant backgrounds, and thus had shared experiences and living conditions with large parts of the population. In many descriptions written at the time, the peasant backgrounds and farming capacities of the political representatives of the new republic, including Päts, are emphasized as somewhat “exotic” characteristics of the Estonian organization.17 Previously, during the long reign of the Baltic Germans and during Estonia’s incorporation in the Russian Empire, society had most certainly been ethnically stratified, with the Estonians occupying the bottom rung for a long time. This only began to slowly change in the late nineteenth century, when the process of national awakening that spread over Europe heavily inf luenced Estonian intellectuals. When those formerly on top—the Baltic Germans and a small fraction of the Russian administration—partly lost their privileges in the wake of the fall of the empire and land reforms, social stratification ceased to play the prominent role it had before, at least temporarily. This was a highly significant characteristic of the new Estonian republic, and one that most certainly would have given rise to cultural outlooks of equality rather than social hierarchy within the population. The relatively nonhierarchical structure of Estonian society is often alluded to in the interviews and social relations were an important theme in these interviews. In agreement with the image provided by written sources, most of the respondents emphasize the relative lack of openly expressed prominent social distinctions in the young republic. The Estonia they remember is where people lived side by side. Once liberated, most people, at least in the countryside regarded themselves as more or less equals, and the nation as a state began again.


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But what did “equal” mean in Estonia at the time? It was definitely not equality in the sense of egalitarianism and similarity in outcomes, since individual initiative and achievement were highly esteemed. A classic proverb adequately captures the Estonian belief in individual responsibility: “Everyone is the architect of their own fortune.” The equality so valued in Estonian interwar society can best be understood as a deep respect for individuality and individual differences, combined with the profound respect for individuals who achieve something with their lives, rather than resting on ascribed merits such as descent. A quotation from an interview gives a good illustration. The interviewee tries to describe the differences between the Estonian way of regarding equality and the impressions she has received as an exile in egalitarian Sweden: Yes, the Swedish society . . . I make a clear distinction between Communism and Socialism but there are elderly Estonians who do not bother to do that. Then it becomes in a way a Socialist spirit; do not believe that you are better than anybody, or equality. I told you that I have been fostered into equality, but for me equality is something different. I do not need a red f lag and yell, but I understand. I even understand the period under Olof Palme (a former Swedish prime minister) and the revolution then, since I have read a lot, but it doesn’t appeal to me. I feel a kind of frustration about it. Equality for you, is it more related to the possibilities of individuality? Precisely! I should mark that in red!18 The interviewee definitely dissociates her way of thinking from egalitarianism that is not Communist, but which still has less emphasis on the individual’s own responsibility and capabilities than the expressive individualism19 embraced by her and many others in the interwar generation. Again, the greater resemblance of Estonian interwar culture to American mentality and the kind of equality fostered in that society comes to mind. “It is the ‘go.’ We believe in ourselves and we believe that it can not be more than a no,” is Eva’s comment apropos of the possible similarities in mentalities between Estonians and Americans.20 A similar belief in equality in the liberal sense of equal opportunities combined with a respect for individual achievement was also prevalent in post-Communist Estonia in the mid-1990s, even though equality as a concept only a few years earlier had been profoundly detested.21

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Lauristin and Vihalemm discuss this as a probable effect of post-Communist experiences in combination with a tendency toward post-materialism. It is, however, clear to see that the post-Communist cultural development bears strong resemblance to the prevalent cultural theme of individualism and equality during the interwar years. Judging from the political culture that was predominant in interwar Estonia, it is the intense and almost classic liberalism bred in the period of democracy that best explains the political reactions of Estonians when confronted with egalitarianism.22 Coupled with the Estonian (and American) type of equality is thus a specific type of individualism, and the mark it made on Estonian society is a theme that recurs in many of our interviews: “I have heard that Estonians are rather individualistic?” “Yes, great individualists, unfortunately,” Aino laughs, in response to a question about individualism. When she is asked to describe the concrete expressions of this individualism, she points primarily to the mentality that relied on the individual’s capacity and resources, and draws a parallel with the American and Canadian society.23 In the interview quoted earlier, Aino ref lects on how the similarities between the Estonian culture during the first republic and the American and even Canadian societies have positively affected the Estonians who chose to live in Canada instead of Sweden. “My soul misses the charm of something in this country, which I might not find anywhere else either. As AmericanEstonians or Canadian-Estonians, they don’t understand that, they don’t feel the same. It is the country that is ref lected.”24 In her—and others’— opinion, the Estonians who continued to Canada after the f light from Estonia have felt more at home there than the Swedish-Estonians. As we see here, there might be cultural explanations. Estonia was largely a nation of rather poor peasants, but naturally people’s economic welfare varied. Many of the interviewees’ families had employed persons working in the household as maids, helping with the children or working at the farmsteads. But if any distinction between them and the family was sustained, it was so subtle that the then-children either did not notice or do not remember it anymore. The formulation that often returns in the conversations is instead that “they were like family members,” ate their meals together and stayed in the same house.25 Aino’s parents worked very hard (as did many of the parents) and she was looked after at home by her grandmother and a relative: “I don’t want to call her a nanny or maid, she belonged to the family.”26 That it “was a very good relationship” is the impression Helge still has of the people working at his parents’ farm, “and everybody ate at the same table.”27 When Eva recalls her Estonian childhood, she


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exclaims that her parents did not cultivate any ambition in her to climb the social ladder because we did not have anything higher. There was no nobility. What we did have was the Baltic nobility, but the Estonians detested the Balts and it was a great problem in our family that our uncle had married a Baltic German lady. Interaction was cold. They had been the oppressors and social relations were in a sense quite complex.28 Felix cannot remember many tensions between social groups, and perceives the gap between rich and poor to have been less pronounced in interwar Estonian society than is the case in the Estonia of today. “Estonian men did not drink so much, they were hard working and cared much more for the family than under Soviet times.”29 Karin mentions that they all wore school uniforms in the girls’ school she attended, a feature Liidia also alludes to. As a result, the only way the more fortunate could f launt their fortune was in the shoes they wore— and of course this was done. This is not a picture of a school system formally pervaded by social barriers; the differences between social groups were not particularly pronounced by any dress codes, behavior, or the way the teachers behaved. Ülo explains that at school everybody was treated as an equal, and none of the others seem to hold opposing opinions.30 Naturally, there is a need to perhaps be extra cautious with respect to how much the children actually understood about the way these close social relations were played out. But the reminiscences point in the same direction as many of the other memories from this time: in comparison, social distinction was not actively promoted in the Estonian society. Today’s post-Communist Estonia is a stark contrast. As a consequence of the choice of ultraliberal economic policies, capitalism has contributed to create large social and economic inequalities in the country. Richness is being shown openly. The relative lack of social distinctions in interwar Estonia should thus probably be analyzed primarily as a result of the then-economic structure, and not as an outf low of any more profound inclination for status avoidance. It is sometimes claimed that there is greater equality between the sexes in peasant societies since both men and women do hard manual labor. The division of labor is thus not as pronounced as in the industrial era. It appears that independent Estonia was a society where gender differences were indeed less pronounced than in comparative settings.

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In any case, a strict separation of the sexes did not completely structure the society. Evi emphasizes that in her view, the sexes were more or less equal. She recalls that the men took greater care of and interest in the family than they do nowadays, and drank less.31 Another exile, Eva, contrasts her perceptions of the relationship between men and women in Sweden, her new native country, with her impressions from interwar Estonia, and remembers more strong and independent women in Estonia.32 Even though social distinctions were not openly marked and did not structure society in nearly the same way as they did in most contemporary societies of the time, people still clearly ref lected on social position, and social consciousness expressed through details of social life inf luences some of the reminiscences. “To go to ballet classes ( . . . ) that were for the lower classes, you were not supposed to do that.”33 Karin and Evi remember that, for the most part, you married within the same social group, although social borders were crossed at times and love marriages did take place.34 A recurrent theme is that you were supposed to “stick to your own kind” and “manage yours.” “If everybody would mind their own business, the world would be a good place” as Felix puts it.35 A tendency of discouraging social ambitions may also be implicit here. Some of the respondents describe the social situation in contradictory terms. On the one hand, they emphasize the lack of class differences, whilst on the other the family’s actual behavior is described quite differently: “We were perhaps a bit above, and we did not socialize with simple people . . . the peasants in the surrounding areas. I guess that we constituted some kind of middle class there in the countryside.”36 There was, however, one crucial exception to the lack of openly hierarchical institutions within society that played and still plays a role in Estonian society—the student corporations that were and are active at Tartu University. These corporations, which served as springboards for those aspiring to leadership positions in the state and the administration, were clearly characterized by hierarchical patterns. A visitor to one of the Tartu Corporations would imagine himself in a German Burschenschaft: “The same initiation ceremonies, the same insignia, the same drinking bouts, the same endurance tests.”37 While there were student associations, such as the famous EÜS—Estonian Students’ Association—that were imbued with a spirit of liberalism, the corporations to a large extent imitated Baltic German traditions. Such a strong German inf luence may seem surprising against the background of century-long dominance and even oppression of the Estonians, but


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nevertheless German traditions and institutions continued to exercise an impact during the interwar period in Estonia. The student corporations are just one example; in constitutional and legislative issues German examples also served as models.38 Helge, who himself had been a student at Tartu University, explicitly mentions the student corporations as part of the associational life in Estonia. “And there was maybe a little of German orientation there, too,” he stresses, and continues, “And some who perished from it, too.”39 The inf luence of these corporations extended beyond the period currently under examination. Membership in a corporation often meant lifelong loyalty and clientilistic obligations to the other members in terms of work promotions and various other favors. “A great deal of nepotism results from the loyalty of highly placed Estonians to their Tartu Association or Corporation. In 1939, for example, a suspiciously high proportion of men in good positions in the Ministry of Commerce and in the Eesti Pank came from the Vironia Corporation,” wrote J Hampden Jackson in his travel account from the Baltics in 1941.40 Liidia studied at Tartu in the 1930s, and describes personal contacts and membership within student associations and corporations as a ticket to a political career.41 A recurrent theme in the interviews is the shortage of work that characterized the period. This is certainly true of the first half of the 1930s when Estonia, like most other states, was hit hard by the world depression. Many respondents refer to the fact that personal bonds, contacts, and a social network were necessary to obtain work. Karin even admits that people used bribery in order to get a job.42 Thus, although Estonia, for historical reasons, entered her first period of independence with a comparatively f lat social structure, hierarchical patterns slowly emerged. These clandestine but nonetheless important hierarchies helped transform Estonia into a society where informal obligations, expectations, and loyalties were decisive, at least at the elite level, at the same time as class distinctions played a peripheral role. Achievement Significant for the new Estonian state was the substantial efforts made by the government both nationally and locally to create opportunities for schooling and higher education. An Estonian recalls how he sometimes went the kilometers to school on skies or even in a sled driven by his sister. One month a year he stayed

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in school since it was too cold to make the daily trips to home: “We went to school five and a half days a week, Saturday was only half day. We studied Estonian language, math, Estonian and world history, religion, geography, science, German language in grades five and six, workshop and physical exercises.”43 The heavy emphasis placed on education in the first Estonian republic can be seen as an outf low of a pervasive notion of a liberal origin saying that the fate of an individual lies with himself or herself. It was the responsibility of the state to provide some opportunities for individuals to start out, but what then happens relies on the individual’s own capabilities and talents. In this sense, the Estonian political leaders acted strategically with the intention of forming a sound base of human capital among the native Estonians. Since the former elites were out of the picture, such an endeavor also seems to have been necessary to secure administrative and economic quality. In the interviews, the interwar generation returns to how education occupied a particular position in the Estonian society during their years of childhood and adolescence. To some extent, the unanimous praise of education in the predominantly agrarian Estonian state must stem from the fact that Estonia was a new state, where the message regarding the need for human capital was successfully transmitted to a majority of the population. Many of those we interviewed were educated at private schools, but the fact that they were private was not indicative of social segregation. The costs were limited, and wealthy as well as poor children attended the private schools: Respondent: There were not many state-owned schools; most of the schools were private. Interviewer: Was it the case that there were more private than state schools? Respondent: Yes, it was like that and it was not particularly elitist to attend those schools. In my class there were two very poor children but they were tremendously talented.”44 In most of the interviews, the value ascribed to education and schooling is deeply sensed. Ülo describes how, after his arrival in Sweden, he was determined to study at the University of Uppsala. “Mother had once said that education is your most crucial asset. Everything else is unimportant, material stuff and so on.” To acquire a good education was regarded as highly important, more so than career-making.45 Helge captures the atmosphere of the young nation by referring to the emphasis


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placed on education, considered necessary to a newly independent state in order to improve its conditions.46 “There existed an infinite thirst for learning and education,” Liidia points out in her description of Estonia. Everyone aimed at a university education, and there was almost an overproduction of university degrees. The labor market could not absorb them all, and some of the interviewees remember that even people with a university degree had to take unskilled work in order to survive in the 1930s. Later in the interview, Liidia returns to the relationship between education, making money, and building a career, stating that in Estonia you needed to have an education, or otherwise you could not get anywhere. Economic incentives did not play as prominent a role as they did later on. At this stage it was knowledge, honor, and recognition that mattered: “We were not a career-making people, those who were intelligent and graduated, but it was not the money that counted but knowledge and recognition.”47 Why was such unique value ascribed to education in the young democracy? It is possible to imagine that economic wealth or professional positions could have played an equally important role in society as desired resources and marks of individual success. Aino provides one possible clue when she acknowledges that “learning and education are things nobody can take away from you, even if you are thrown to and fro.”48 The notion of education as something that the individual can keep, in spite of changing external circumstances, is common among the interviewees who have been told so in their childhood or adolescence by parents or grandparents, even if they came from a rural and noneducated background themselves. The Estonians were used to changes in social conditions and governing structures, and so preparing for any eventuality by investing in human rather than physical capital may have seemed the most rational choice.49 The school system has a prominent position in the literature on socialization. Along with the family, the period of schooling is believed to exercise a considerable inf luence over the young and formative minds of the children.50 For one thing, the content of what is being taught in school, both the explicit and the hidden curriculum, is believed to be important. Returning to the society of interwar Estonia, many of the Estonians recall an element of civic as well as nationalist training at school. “Civic education was emphasized.”51 Lessons about the native country, Estonia and the importance of its independence, as well as its peasant history and the history of the Baltic Germans, formed the core content.52 The civic training focused on citizens’ rights, how

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democracy worked, and how to vote: Every day started with a devotion where the priest spoke about the Lutheran ethic, work and the fatherland and we would sing the national anthem and usually some other nationalistically oriented song. Religion was important, and sometimes we listened to religious services on the radio. Even in other subjects, it was important to underline that Estonia was now independent and how a prospering country should be built by hard work and how to become a small people with a great culture and strong morale.53 Karin thus remembers the emphasis put on hard work (“Lutheran ethic”), and many of the Estonians interviewed frequently return to the norm of hard work in one form or another. It can be that the importance of working hard was inculcated at home, within the family, or that the more powerful working ethic of the interwar years is contrasted with what happened in Estonia during the Soviet period. “Honest labor was then highly valued,” Evi says.54 The role played by nationalism in Europe during the interwar years, placed against the background of Hitler’s Third Reich and World War II, is a sensitive question. Estonia was a new and independent state, and national sentiments naturally prevailed among the population, as many still recall. “It was such a natural feeling—a kind of community spirit,” is how Pilvi wants to describe her own and other’s feelings for Estonia. What becomes clear in the interviews, however, is that to this generation, growing up in a time when Europe became all the more instable, and in particular in a country fearing invasion, there was a political as well as a cultural nationalism, and what distinguished the two was the degree and form of its public expressions: “I think that we who were young were rather nationalistic, not in the marching kind of way but in that we liked our fatherland” is a telling remark from Erich.55 Estonian nationalism was not expressive and loud and it was not, as many describe it, in the Estonian mentality to make great public manifestations. The contrast to what quickly came to be associated with the German (or to a lesser extent Russian) way of demonstrating national sentiments could not be larger, and its symbols—marches, flags, torches— became symbols of something alien to the Estonian mind.56 Once again, it is quite plausible to analyze these reactions as part of a larger pattern of respect for individuality. Ambitions to create a mentality of “mass-society” along the lines of Nazi German marching suited the Estonians badly.57


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Tolerance toward Minorities Estonia was a province of tsarist Russia until as late as 1918, and the Baltic Germans continued to exercise considerable power in the territory. In many of the interviews, the fact that Estonia was part of Russia until only very recently becomes startlingly real. In interwar Estonia, Russia was still an obvious point of reference, providing many of the more wealthy Estonians with career opportunities and possibilities for education, as well as being a gateway into the world. The important role the nearby capital of St. Petersburg (only twelve hours away by train) played in the life of many of the respondents’ parents, and the fact that fathers of some had participated in the Russian Revolution are examples of this inf luence. St. Petersburg, relatively close to the Estonian border, is often mentioned in the interviews.58 For example, Leida’s mother spoke several languages, had stayed in St Petersburg, and even been a governess for the tsar’s family.59 “Before the revolution, she went to a conservatory in Russia,” Helge recalls when thinking about his mother’s upbringing.60 Evi, whose mother was the widow of an officer in the tsar’s army, remembers that her parents met in St. Petersburg.61 The intermingling of all these inf luences—Russian and Eastern lifestyles and values with those of the still inf luential Baltic Germans with their Northern European roots—created a culturally rich atmosphere in Estonia during these years, resulting in a f lexible, adaptable, and even tolerant population. Diverse cultural impulses from both East and West, as well as a population made up of people with varying ethnic backgrounds, meant that Estonian society was far from homogenous. While the Estonia of this time could not be described as utterly cosmopolitan, it was certainly pluralist, and a touching illustration comes from Erich whose “first love was a Russian girl, we were five years old.”62 One of the interviews provides a vivid picture of the ethnic “melting pot” that was Estonia in those days: Respondent: Now, there were very many nationalities in Estonia. Germans who kept to themselves. Russians and they socialized a lot. They had come before the revolution. There were Jews too, they had their own, too and did not mix much. They had their own cultural autonomy. Yes, all these! The Russians fitted very well. Interviewer: Did you have any Jewish, German, or Russian friends?

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Respondent: As a matter of fact, I had German friends. But it was very rare because they had their own schools but they also let go sometimes. The Russians, they seemed more as . . . the younger ones in my age spoke Estonian well, but their parents, they spoke so strangely.63 Many mention the politics of cultural autonomy and the separate schools for the minorities with pride in the interviews, and the cultural autonomy granted to ethnic groups in the first republic later became arguments for similar treatment in, for example, Sweden. It was “selfevident” that different ethnic groups should have their own schools.64 The picture that emerges is one of comparatively peaceful cohabitation. There are again reasons for being cautious, however. The fact that the interwar period has taken on the character of something of a “paradise lost” could color these memories, and the a priori positive feelings the respondents associate with this era must be kept in mind. In several accounts, the parents’ tolerance is alluded to—Eva explains that she was brought up as a “world citizen,”65 while Muusa remembers her father giving her a concrete lesson in antiracism. The story told is that when she was small, the family lived next door to a Jew. One day, she found her dog shot, lying in the Jew’s garden. What a terrible person, she told her father; he did that because he was a Jew. Her father then told her that everybody makes mistakes; probably he did not see that the dog was tied and that it had nothing to do with him being a Jew.66 In the post-Communist Estonian context of today, relations with Russia and the Russian minority in the country are particularly sensitive. For example, Estonia chose a blood-right principle of citizenship directly connected to the prewar Estonian republic at the independence in 1991, which implied that great numbers of Russian speakers who arrived after the war were denied the right to vote in national elections. The great inf low of individuals of Russian origin to Estonia during the postwar period of occupation heavily changed the demographic balance. At the time of transition, Estonians consisted only around 60 percent of the population.67 What by many was perceived as a threatening demographic and cultural situation, in combination with an overwhelming desire among indigenous political elite to secure a Western orientation early on, has contributed to what the international community often has regarded, and of course rightly so, an undemocratic logic in the treatment of its large Russian minority. However, that does not say very much about those relations in the interwar years, which were actually rather harmonious. Aarelaid-Tart in her life story


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interviews with Estonians paints a similar picture. One of her interviewees from what she calls the republican generation states that “one can by no means argue that the Estonian people were consciously prejudiced against Russians” in a clear reference to later development.68 When asked whether she remembers the pro-Western attitudes expressed by the Estonian state in relation to Britain and the United States, and whether these attitudes were a way of distancing the nation from its mighty neighbor and former ruler, Russia, Liidia, for example, decisively rejects the idea: No, I cannot say that. Because of those who had worked, there were many Estonians who worked in Russia during the Tsar. It was a natural thing that they fitted in there. They told that the Russians were nice people to keep company with. You had tremendous possibilities there. Probably, they lacked educated people. Then the revolution came and the educated Russians with whom the Estonians could work disappeared. When the Russians came and occupied Estonia, the elders said that with Russians we always manage because we know what they are like, but those were quite different Russians.69 Eva’s ref lections are similar. She points out that in her mind any social tensions that existed after independence were between Baltic Germans and Estonians; while “it was usual that Estonians made a career in Russia. I felt no tensions there.” 70 Thus, the pro-Western attitudes and praise for the British should not primarily be interpreted as Estonia’s way of distancing herself from Russia, despite the fact that the current situation under post-Communism might make this seem like a natural explanation. It is more adequately understood as a rejection of German heritage and culture. Any strong hatred felt toward the former oppressors and feudal rulers however, is alluded to in surprisingly few of the interviews.71 But it is still clear that the role that the Baltic Germans had historically played affected the new Estonian society in several ways. For one thing, English became the first language studied in high school. Reminiscences of Political Alienation When the interwar generation was growing up in the 1920s and 1930s, politics did not occupy a prominent position in their lives. This is clear

42


from what the men and women whom we interviewed told us, and the picture is surprisingly unanimous. In the interviews, many return to the description of themselves as politically unaware, with little or no interest whatsoever in political matters.72 Political activity was limited, since politics was played out in an arena far from where ordinary people lived their lives: “No, it was nothing. You never talked about politics. Never (. . .). An agrarian society it was where everybody led their own little lives and were content with the little they had.”73 What could be the reason for the lack of interest in politics, if politics is understood in the broader sense of entertaining ideas, taking part in political discussions, and participating politically? It can be sensed in the interviews that politics was almost considered as irrelevant, of little practical importance to the “ordinary people,” who instead were fully occupied in building the country. None of the respondents seems to have had definite political ideas, or to have been inspired by movements with political overtones. One explanation could be that affairs of government were still associated with others, formerly the Baltic Germans and the Russians, and consequently of little concern to people in general. Politics as a phenomenon did not enjoy a particularly good reputation among the Estonians. Formulations that picture politics and politicians as dirty, “politics is everywhere dirty—in my eyes,”74 could well stand as mottos of the sentiments that many in this generation still share. Muusa recalls something her father told her as a young girl, when she was warned against getting involved in politics “because often in politics people with a drive for power assemble and it is very dirty and so on.”75 Erich comes back to the fact that it was considered to be bad manners to discuss politics, because it could provoke arguments and conf licts.76 Political life was confined to a circle of men, and did not “concern” the man on the street. Even though such sentiments partly could be related to the particularities of the Estonian situation, the “state” being alien for so many centuries, it should be remembered that democracy was at the time still in most of the European continent a fresh form of rule toward which it could seem natural to remain skeptic. However, the picture of political indifference is not totally without nuance. Pilvi, born in 1924, grew up in a family where her father was an active politician in one of the many agrarian parties. Her home was filled with political discussions and activity, although her mother did not have the same political ambitions, and seldom participated in political debates. Pilvi was fifteen when the war broke out and the occupation began, making public discussion almost impossible. “You had to


43 77

be cautious, especially in the presence of strangers,” she explains. It is also true that some in the interviews say that they trusted their politicians and that the gap and mistrust between politicians and citizens that exists today in Estonia, or in the West for that matter, was absent in those days.78 But it is then mostly Konstantin Päts or his closest men that are referred to. Many of them were war-heroes, and regarded as such by the public. The activists in political parties and the members of the Riigikogu fare worse. The distrust that existed was directed in particular toward the Communists, and later on the Nazis and the fascists, represented in Estonia by the Eesti Vabadussõjalaste Liit, Estonian War of Independence Veterans’ League.79 But of these democratic threats, the Communists without any doubt held a particularly gruesome place in Estonian minds. With respect to Communism, the sentiments as the interviewees remember them were neither indifferent nor dissociated. Communists were clearly detested in interwar Estonia. It has been claimed that the radical land reform implemented in 1920 effectively prevented Bolshevism and Communism from gaining ground in Estonia. Once the peasant population, although still poor, all became small proprietors, the message of the Communist ideology lost its attraction.80 Communism was then loathed for two possible reasons: it challenged private property and it rejected individualism as a foundation for social organization. “Everybody respected Päts and nobody liked communism, even if they were poor,” Leida exclaims promptly, and continues “no proper person liked the Communists who did not want to work but just wanted to get things.”81 Her description of widespread antipathy toward the Communists recurs in other interviews, as when Karin states that although many in her surroundings were poor, most of them disliked the Communists intensely82 while Aino vividly recalls the anti-Communist feelings harbored by her father, “who hated the Communists.”83 Returning once again to post-Communist Estonia, the anti-Communism of the interwar years is ref lected in the, even in a comparative perspective, surprisingly strong right-wing orientation among the Estonian public, for example, found by Weibull and Holmberg in the mid-1990s.84 Of course, the experience of Communist rule contributed to further inf luence such anti-Communist sentiments, but the fact is that Estonia already during the interwar period is described in such terms. And then there is Evi whose father took part in the Communist coup against the Estonian government in 192485 and was imprisoned for four years, while her mother had to manage alone with three small children. Evi’s father had been in Russia during the revolution just before Estonia

44


became a free state, and consequently witnessed how ordinary men rose to be leaders and redistributed goods from the rich to the poor. This experience inclined him toward Communism. But the Communist faith of Evi’s father ended in tragedy. Before the Germans arrived (1939–40) the family moved to Russia, as her father thought that Communism would make the family’s life easier. However, Evi remembers her father banging his head desperately against the wall, murmuring: “Communism was not supposed to be like this. Poor people were supposed to be able to eat until their stomachs were full, is this what I brought the family here for, a family that I cannot even support anymore?” Later, her father and one of her brothers were shot in Russia. The rest of the family then returned to Estonia.86 The political history of interwar Estonia is not only intimately associated with the establishment of democracy and multiparty politics but also with the subsequent abolition of elections and political rights in 1934.87 After President Päts declared a state of emergency in March 1934, in the middle of an intense election campaign with a victory for the Veteran movement seemingly not far off, Estonia entered what has popularly been called “the era of silence.”88 The Veterans’ League initially enjoyed high public respect, and it developed only gradually into a political movement.89 The state had not fully recovered from this period before the World War II broke out and history took another and even more disastrous turn. Although described as a “dark” period for Estonia, sometimes even as a shameful one, the actions taken have also been claimed to have been guided by a desire to safeguard political life against fascist extremism, rather than paving the way for a fascist takeover. Dellenbrant concludes as follows: When evaluating the actions of Päts and Ulmanis [Latvia’s president], one should first point out that they saved their countries—at a very difficult time—from attempts at political takeover from extremist groups. Perhaps the result of an unrestrained development would have been a disruption of all democratic institutions and possibly also civil war.90 The coup in 1934 orchestrated by Konstatin Päts and the following state of emergency, which included the closing down of political parties and the cancellation of elections, clearly turned interwar Estonia, like so many other states in Europe at the time, into an authoritarian regime. But even authoritarian regimes differ widely, which may explain why several of the interviewees did not clearly remember their adolescence


45

in terms of before and after 1934. This is so because “compared to Latvia the formal subordination introduced in Estonia was much smoother.”91 Censorship was less severe, which resulted in a much more free press, and the treatment of minorities was “far less aggressive” than in Latvia.92 Furthermore, Päts were opposed by another of the “founding fathers” of the Estonian state—Jaan Tõnisson who edited the Tartubased paper Postimees. The liberal spirit that characterized the university town of Tartu, the “Tartu spirit,” thus constituted a counterweight to the regime.93 The stronger democratic and civic culture traditions that appear to have predominated authoritarian Estonia compared to Latvia were also ref lected in the fact that the home defense guard remained in popular hands, while in the 1930s in Latvia (and Lithuania), it developed into paramilitary organizations modeled on fascist examples. So even though the events of 1934 and their aftermath definitely had politically detrimental consequences, in comparison to neighboring Latvia, Estonia fared rather well. The situation facing Konstantin Päts was thus a complicated one, and the solution chosen—mild authoritarianism—probably had at least some legitimacy in the minds of ordinary people. Democracies were collapsing all over Europe at the time. Given this perspective, there was nothing unique about Estonia’s development.94 What the Estonians experienced was a political scene where the president was the major figure and the political parties rested their case. But this political turbulence, or rather the political silence that evolved, did thus not seem to affect the lives of ordinary people in any radical way as the interwar generation remembers it, probably because a period of economic stability now followed. However, for those active in political parties and in the press, the situation must have appeared quite in another way. The men and women interviewed here recall there being a great confidence in President Päts, “the great idol”95 and the post-coup period as one of economic stability and more prosperous living. Respondent: It was quite stable. The Kroon was highly valued. Interviewer: Was there a confidence? Respondent: You could buy everything! The salaries were low, but you could buy everything.96 Liidia characterizes the Päts period as the most prosperous years— people were satisfied economically and that sufficed. Although Liidia was a student at the time, and feelings in Tartu tended to be rather

46


antiauthoritarian, she cannot recall the authoritarian regime making much difference: Not at all; not me. I studied at the university and the university town was opposed to authoritarianism: it was a revolutionary nest. But it did not make much difference. They wrote in the press and held speeches but nothing else happened (. . .) Those involved in politics were deeply offended, but those being outside politics with other things to do, they did not take much notice.97 Generally, the interwar generation has a rather sunny picture of the Päts period, and regards it as unfair to compare this authoritarian rule to the real dictatorships of Hitler, Stalin, or Mussolini. Although freedom of speech was limited, you did not risk your life by saying something that discredited the president or the government, Erich points out.98 When looking back at this period, it is possible that the respondents may end up providing a sunnier picture of this time than was actually the case due to the “halo effect” referred to earlier. As always, we need to keep in mind that the portraits of the time being given here have been filtered both through time and through the collective endeavor of remembering. The impressions given in the narratives of how little fuss was made when democracy was done away with in 1934 strengthens the picture of interwar Estonia as basically what can be called an apolitical society, where politics was an activity confined to a very small circle of people at the Toompea in Tallinn. Politics did not matter much, but independence and freedom did. It also brings about a notion of Estonia as a still democratically somewhat immature society, where the defense of democratic rights was not taken particularly seriously by the overwhelmingly rural population. Against the background of the short period in which democracy and independence had existed, that is hardly surprising. To sum up, an individual growing up in Estonia during the crucial years between the wars—the period portrayed on the preceding pages—was shaped by a society that believed fervently in individual achievement, a striving manifested in the small-scale peasant economy that dominated the country. Hard work and a puritan work ethic combined with an extremely high regard for education are prominent features of this “achievement culture,” which definitely has its roots in Western-style individualism. The liberal idea of equal opportunities and a profound respect for individuality rather than the notion of equal outcome aptly characterize the predominant mentality. This liberal


47

outlook involves a high appreciation of work and the importance of work in life, as well as an equally high evaluation of human capital represented by education. It is definitely not individualism as ruthless self-interest that we see in interwar Estonia, but rather individualism combined with vast communal practices among a large number of landed peasants, as pointed out earlier. Most Estonian youths growing up during these years must have encountered the practices of cooperative organization, which accorded closely with the traditional Scandinavian appreciation of consensus and cooperation. We can assume that the interdependence created by the cooperative arrangements and the communalism rested on a ground of social trust. Furthermore, once the Baltic German power structure was destroyed, Estonia became a society relatively free of class conf licts. Despite large communities with different ethnic backgrounds, ethnic tensions were largely lacking. The low level of social conf lict and the lack of any other distinct cleavages within the party system further strengthen the impression of Estonia as a “trusting” society. However, the hints of nepotism and a poorly functioning state apparatus makes the picture less transparent. It has been argued that social trust, that is trust between people, derives not least of all from the belief that state institutions such as the police and the courts are fair and treat everybody in a just manner.99 Since political life and public institutions in the past had been associated with the distant and oppressive elites, the extent to which Estonians now had confidence in them remains uncertain and the sentiments associated with politics breathe disillusion and dissociation.


CH A P T E R

T H R E E

Multicultural Canada and the Welfare State Sweden: Home to Estonians in Exile

By the time World War II ended in 1945, over 70,000 Estonians had f led their home country to escape the Red Army and Soviet occupation.1 Two of the largest communities of exiles were established in Sweden and, a few years later, in Canada. Both Canada and Sweden have enjoyed long periods of uninterrupted democratic government and peaceful internal relations, and belong to the exclusive group of the world’s oldest and most stable democratic states.2 Furthermore, both countries are welfare states. Although organized differently, in both countries the state has played an active role in providing for the citizens’ basic needs.3 While Sweden has been regarded as the most obvious example of a “social-democratic” welfare model based on universality and generous allowances, Canada developed into a country of universal rights during the decades following World War II.4 In contrast to its U.S. neighbor, Canada has shown capitalism’s gentler and more humane face and the similarities with Swedish welfare policies have grown over the decades since World War II, although the dominance of the state in Sweden is much more extensive. In Sweden, as in Canada, the welfare system has been placed under severe pressure throughout the 1990s, although there is still public and political support for its basic foundations. Even so, the role of the state differs in these two countries. While for a long time the Swedish welfare state relied on the state not only for paying but also for producing, Canada has had a larger “third sector” or social economy performed by cooperatives, nonprofits, and other arrangements and organizations outside the public sector.5 At least on

50


the surface, that resembles the cooperative society in Estonia. Sweden’s strong egalitarian ideals seem not to have any counterpart in the Canadian case. Economic regulations regarding small-scale enterprises have probably made it easier for Canadian immigrants, including the Estonians, to integrate more rapidly into the host society.6 There are also other differences between the two countries. Quite importantly in the context explored here, the dominant political “discourse” has differed greatly in these two countries. Whereas the Swedish political scene since at least the 1940s has been dominated by an accentuated social-democratic agenda of egalitarianism and farreaching state power with broad responsibilities,7 Canada is characterized by a more pronounced liberal discourse8 more in line with its North American legacy.

Postwar Canada Becomes an Immigrant Society For Canada, World War II was a crucial turning point that placed the country on a radically different course. Traditionally, as a former British colony, Canada had remained closely tied to Britain, although this was obviously not true of the French population in Quebec. Until 1947, the Canadian nationals were titled British subjects.9 Franco-conformity and Anglo-conformity was the rule and was instilled primarily in the schools. The image of Canada as made up primarily of these two founding “nations,” the British and the French, continues to shape perceptions in Canadian society, in spite of the profound changes that have taken place. Hence, the decades after 1945 witnessed a radical transformation of Canada’s demographic structure, caused mainly by the large wave of immigration spurred by the situation in Europe after the war. Since 1945, Canada has admitted a little over 5 million immigrants into the country10 and, largely because of this, doubled its population. Today, the ten largest ethnic groups are the British, French, German, Italian, Ukrainian, Dutch, Chinese, Scandinavian, Jewish and the aboriginal, and the two major religious affiliations are Catholic and Protestant.11 Until 1962, the stated ambition was to keep immigration white; for example, a “white Canada” policy was practiced, discriminating heavily against nonwhites. “While Canada [in contrast to Australia] did not have an act specifically called an immigration restriction act, elements

Home to Estonians in Exile

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of restriction, directed first against the Chinese and later against all potential non-white immigrants, were present in the immigration legislation from the 1880s onwards,” Hawkins claims.12 The “White Canada” policy was basically intended to create what was believed would be a “culturally” homogeneous nation. Asians, for example, the Chinese and the Indians, were regarded as too dissimilar in their basic cultural and religious mentalities and customs to fit in. Since Canada also nourished ambitions of being recognized internationally as progressive and socially responsible, defending the racist immigration policies proved harder as time went by. After 1962, immigration was no longer restricted in a racist fashion, and the abolishment of the “white immigration policies” rapidly changed the profile of Canadian immigration, as was also the case in Sweden in the 1970s and 1980s. Non-European immigration, primarily from Asia and Africa, has been dominant after 1970 in Canada. Thus, North America’s “little brother,” next-door neighbor to the U.S. melting pot, has successively turned itself into a huge immigrant society, which is today regarded as having one of the world’s largest immigrant communities. With its vast territory, rich resources, and small population Canada attracts immigrants from all over the world. Canadian society has become increasingly diverse and pluralistic as a result. This is especially noticeable in the urban areas of, for example, Toronto, where the Canadian-Estonians interviewed in this study live. The changing demographic structures of the 1970s and 1960s put pressure on Canadian policies and institutions, with an insistence that they begin to ref lect the nation’s multicultural population structure. In 1963, a commission on bilingualism and biculturalism was appointed, and explicitly concerned itself with the non-charter nationalities, who are those other than the British and the French.13 In 1971, Canada introduced policies of multiculturalism on both the federal and the provincial levels. Pierre Trudeau, then prime minister, described it as “a multicultural policy within a bilingual framework.” These policies were launched both as a response to the demographic transformation and as a deliberate ref lection of Canada’s wish to demonstrate that it was a liberal and tolerant state to the international community. Today, Canada’s multicultural policies are widely acknowledged as one of the most inspired attempts at handling the issue of ethnic diversity. In 1988, this political initiative was followed by a legal one, the Act of the Preservation and Enhancement of Multiculturalism in Canada.

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Political Culture under Institutional Pressure Multicultural Policy

What, more precisely, is unique about Canada’s multicultural policies? Hawkins, who has written extensively on immigration policy and multiculturalism, defines the important issues to be “cultural freedom, social justice, and equality of opportunity for all within the existing political system.”14 The areas of political concern are broad, and touch on many aspects of human life. Institutionally, a minister responsible for multiculturalism was established together with a Multiculturalism Directorate. In the province of Ontario, home to around half of the postwar immigrants, including many of the Estonians, a public framework for immigration and multiculturalism was implemented. Formerly called the Citizenship Branch, it is now part of Ontario’s Ministry of Citizenship. The policy programs have focused primarily on issues of recognition, pride, and identity for the many ethnic groups living in Canada aside from the British and the French.15 Funds have been allocated for the writing of ethnic histories16 and for the support of Canadian ethnic studies, and additional funds were created for the teaching of Canada’s official languages. Finally, programs that made it possible for the various ethnic groups to document their lives and their contributions to Canadian development were launched. The National Museum of Man, the National Film Board, National Library and Public Archives are some of the cultural institutions involved in this task. The Public Archives hold a collection of ethnic archives, and the National Library of Canada provides a multilingual service in many languages. The purpose of the multicultural policy of 1971 was primarily symbolic—it was intended as a signal to the many ethnic minorities that they were recognized as the equals of the two founding peoples, the British and the French. This move concealed the fact that in 1969 Canada had adopted an official bilingual policy, proclaiming English and French as Canada’s two official languages. Even so, it appears to have made a significant impact. Public reception of and support for political multiculturalism has been positive, and figures show that the majority of Canadians interact with people from other ethnic groups in their homes and at work. Eighty percent of Canadians live in neighborhoods that include some or many persons of different ethnic or racial backgrounds. Seventythree percent regularly see friends who have different ethnic or racial backgrounds and 40 percent have family members of different ethnic or


53

racial backgrounds. Hence, multiculturalism is not an abstract government policy, but an integral part of the average Canadians’ everyday reality.17 Clearly, even if the exact figures are subject to change, they indicate the existence of an integrated society, where diversity has moved beyond rhetoric to become part of the pattern of behavior among ordinary people.18 To summarize, the launching of a multicultural policy in 1971, followed by further initiatives in 1982 and 1988, created an institutional infrastructure of great symbolic value supported by a budget that, although limited, was devoted to the visibility and strengthening of ethnic groups other than the French and the British. It is very interesting to note that the Canadian policy was, from its early stages, directed toward reconstructing the “communities of memory” that had been attributed such an importance in the process of strengthening communality,19 hence making it easier for ethnic minorities to intertwine their own particular history with the larger Canadian one. The American sociologist Bellah writes: “Communities, in the sense in which we are using the term, have a history—in an important sense they are constituted by their past—and for this reason we can speak of a real community as a ‘community of memory,’ one that does not forget its past.”20 Bellah suggests that a past and a common memory are crucial to creating a sense of community. The Canadian policymakers apparently grasped this early on, and were furthermore not afraid that the ethnic community would push aside the identity as citizen.21 Critical questions have, however, been raised precisely as to whether a multicultural policy does not rather tend to strengthen ethnic isolation.22 The effects of policies are never easy to evaluate, but there are indications that the multicultural policies, particularly when they succeed in strengthening feelings of social and economic security among ethnic minorities, have contributed to a positive ethnic climate, although there are exceptions.23 Lindström concludes that multiculturalism “had a positive impact on the more than one hundred cultural groups existing in Canada. It sanctioned and legitimized their private family life and community activities and promoted more open and tolerant discussion and sharing of Canada’s culture.”24 Swedish policies, in contrast, have been more focused on technical solutions to problems of integration: allowances to facilitate the process of adaptation, publicly funded courses to introduce immigrants into the labor market, and immigrant policies as an outf low of welfare measures.

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Political Culture under Institutional Pressure Postwar Sweden Develops into a Welfare State

Sweden is a country which, with a few shorter breaks, has been dominated politically by a strong labor party government sometimes ascribed almost “hegemonic” powers.25 The Social Democratic Party stayed uninterruptedly in power for forty-four years, from 1932 until 1976, on a few occasions in coalition with the Agrarian Party and during the World War II in a broad coalition with all the parties represented in parliament. The party’s dominance has been challenged since 1976, but the Social Democrats still have quite a strong hold on political life. Although rarely supported by an absolute majority of the electorate, the Social Democrats enjoyed approximately 40–45 percent of the votes until well into the 1990s. Thereafter the mobilization of voters began to decline, and in the elections of 2006 the social-democratic government lost power to an alliance of opposition parties. The decline has primarily been the result of a shrinking state budget and a pronounced tendency to look more to market solutions,26 a political development reluctantly supported by the party, but rejected by some of the party’s absolute core groups. The political dominance of a left-wing party guided by the vision of reshaping Swedish society by reducing economic inequalities through a progressive tax system and the establishment of a publicly governed and produced welfare system has also transformed Swedish society, making it, at least on the surface, vastly different from the one the Estonian refugees encountered in 1944.27 Today Sweden is a country that offers a high level of material security for practically all groups: the welfare programs provide basic minimal security for every citizen, even in times of long-term unemployment and illness. Education, including higher education, is financed out of the public budget and is free of charge for the individual. The same goes for public health care, which is still of a high quality comparable to, and often better, than private alternatives. For a long time housing was subsidized by the public budget, and social allowances have generally been regarded as generous. The postwar decades have, therefore, been focused on the deliberate expansion of the public sector and the establishment of a universal welfare system, an expansion that has also significantly shaped public debate. This “project” has visibly affected the population since health care, housing, day care, and schools—to take just a few examples—play an important role in the everyday life of most people.


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Besides the construction of a far-reaching welfare system, one more feature of Swedish postwar society needs to be examined in this context, namely immigrant policies and the Swedish reception of ethnic minorities. For a long time the Swedish State severely restricted immigration, and remained more ethnically homogeneous than many other European countries, for example, Britain, France, or Germany, well into the 1950s. The exception was the Estonian group and a few other refugee communities, primarily of Nordic origin, who arrived during or just after the World War II.28 However, propelled by a labor shortage in key parts of the economy, a wave of immigration began in the late 1940s and 1950s and peaked in the 1960s. Agreements with Italy, Hungary, and Austria, followed by similar arrangements with Yugoslavia and Turkey, paved the way for a non-Nordic immigration that began to change the demographics and, primarily, the cultural structure of Swedish society in the decades that followed. After the 1960s, when regulations regarding the importation of labor were introduced, the immigration profile shifted again, this time toward non-European refugees from Latin America, the Middle East, and different countries in Africa, as well as Kurds.29 Ref lecting demographic realities, a political debate on questions of immigration and minority rights also began.30 When it came to issues such as cultural diversity and ethnic pluralism, immigration policy pre1970s was not particularly elaborate, guided as it was by an idea of the “assimilation” of ethnic minorities. What policy there was prescribed that minorities “melt in” and take on the cultural patterns and values of the Swedish-born majority.31 The immigrants were simply expected to adapt to Swedish society, linguistically and culturally.32 After 1975, under the impact of a growing ethnic heterogeneity with a large proportion of non-European refugees and immigrants, policy objectives promoting the idea of “cultural equality” and the right to preserve minority culture and language began to appear, thus recognizing the multicultural character of Swedish society. The objectives adopted by the social-democratic government in 1975 aimed at equality, freedom of choice, cooperation, and solidarity.33 This political sea change can, however, be dated back to the end of the 1960s when, in 1968, a Royal Commission for Immigration was appointed, followed by the establishment of a National Board of Immigration in 1969. According to some observers, Sweden is still far from having obtained a genuine minority policy. They claim that although Sweden is today most definitely a multicultural society, minority policy has simply been integrated into the general ambitions of the welfare state, and so does

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not ref lect the profound transformation of Swedish society. There is not—as is more the case in Canada—a genuine minority policy based on the fact that the immigrant groups are permanent communities and not just temporary clusters that will be “swallowed” by the majority culture in a generation or so. It is feared that the “new social category of “immigrants” has been integrated under the general umbrella of the welfare state, and that the country is not really willing to deal with the actual cultural diversity that has developed in contemporary Sweden.”34 The immigrants have become yet another political problem that the state needs to solve. Accentuated tendencies toward segregation35are visible, for example, in the fact that many immigrants, in particular those of a non-European origin, live “outside” Swedish society, politically and economically.36 The majority of these immigrants, almost regardless of origin, live together in suburbs in the urban areas of Stockholm, Gothenburg, and Malmö, demonstrating that social integration has not been particularly successful. The unemployment rate amongst immigrants, particularly those from countries outside Scandinavia and Europe, is very high, leading to social exclusion and alienation.37 The labor market is fairly strictly regulated in terms of wages and laws, and this makes it more difficult for ethnic networks to establish “enclaves” that can provide financial support and security in the way that family-owned small businesses and companies can.38 Historically, it is a known fact that immigrants have used their ethnic networks in various ways—for housing, work, or economic support, for example—to help themselves become established in a new country. For the first generation of immigrants, ethnic networks have also been important in entrepreneurial activities. Nevertheless, ethnic integration has proved to be a difficult process in Sweden, in contrast to immigrants’ experiences, at least after the 1960s, in countries such as the United States, Canada, and Britain. Sweden has never been a country known for its blooming small-scale enterprises; on the contrary, large or medium enterprises have dominated. As will be discussed further, it has been suggested that in Canada in contrast to Sweden, Estonian entrepreneurs played a role that was crucial to the whole community.39 The situation immigrants find themselves in today was not the one encountered by Estonians establishing themselves in the Sweden of 1940s and 1950s, when official policy still paid very little attention to the needs or rights of ethnic minorities, including the need for recognition and respect.40 Issues relating to minorities were definitely not on the agenda, and the Estonians were astonished by and resentful of the Swedish authorities’ unwillingness to grant them “cultural autonomy.”


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Their resentment grew as implicit comparisons were made with the far-reaching minority rights that had existed during Estonian independence. The Estonian attitude has been characterized as an example of a “silent resistance” against the Swedish model for assimilation.41 Let me now turn to the particularities of the Estonian exile communities in these two host societies since these are of importance as contexts of possible resocialization. The Estonian Community in Canada The Estonian refugees who left Estonia in 1944 arrived in Sweden or in Germany. They were early boat refugees. Small fishing boats located at the coast took thousands and thousands of Estonians over the Baltic Sea to the coasts of Sweden. Because of autumn storms, the f light was dangerous: How long was this storm going to rage? Would we survive or perish. On the fourth day the storm abated. We had lost our sails and our anchor, but we had survived. We raised a white bed sheet hoping, the Swedish border patrol would see our neutral f lag. We were finally rescued by their patrol boat during midday. Our damaged boat is being towed to the port of Nyneshamn, near Stockholm. We are very fortunate indeed to arrive on Swedish soil. Many of our fellow countrymen perished in their small boats on the stormy Baltic, that fateful September in 1944.42 A few years later, in 1948 and 1949, thousands chose to leave Sweden and headed primarily for distant countries such as Canada or the United States.43 All in all, approximately 18,000 Estonian refugees settled in Canada, far from the Soviet threat. Half of the Estonian exiles live in “the heartland of the Estonian community,” Toronto, capital of the large province of Ontario, close to the U.S. border, which is densely populated by immigrants.44 Leaving Sweden The reasons for the decision to continue the f light from Sweden varied; some of the refugees had political motives, some economic and for others, it was a combination of these. Their decision has to be understood in the

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light of the political realities of the time. The situation was tense: the Soviet Union was making its inf luence felt all over Europe as the Iron Curtain fell into place. Sweden was a neighboring state, close to the Soviet borders. Combined with the compliant attitude shown by the Swedish authorities toward demands from the Soviet regime, these factors inf luenced the decision to leave. Feelings of fear, uncertainty, and anguish grew among the Estonians as events such as the 1945 repatriation of Baltic officers shook the country. One hundred and sixty-seven Baltic officers were repatriated to the USSR. Obviously, this tragic event did not help to allay the Estonians’ fears. A striking example indicating the extent of compliance with Soviet demands at the time is a reply made in 1945 by the Swedish Foreign Board to the Estonian refugees in response to their worried questions regarding repatriation: The possibility for the refugees to return was pointed out and it was emphasized that “attempts at persuading the refugees not to return were under no circumstances allowed” and that conducting political propaganda in Sweden was prohibited. Of greatest importance in the letter was the sentence: “despite the absence of force it is Sweden’s wish that the refugees return to their homes.”45 Early on in their stay, the Swedish government politically muzzled the Baltic refugees, prohibiting any political activity categorized by the authorities as anti-Soviet. This was clearly marked in their foreign passports. “We were never allowed to discuss politics or describe the conditions at home as they were during the Soviet time. We were quiet: we had received shelter in Sweden and sensed the War,” remembers an Estonian woman.46 The prohibition against political activity did not last for long, but could have had more enduring effects than what has earlier been believed, as the results in the next chapters seem to indicate. In retrospect, the Swedish government’s policy, which hardly corresponds to ordinary democratic standards of political freedom, can be explained by the fact that leading Swedish ministers at the time firmly believed in maintaining good relations with the Soviet Union.47 The authorities advised the refugees already in the camps to stay “quiet.” And “quiet”—in the sense of minding their own business, doing well, and not causing trouble—the Estonians have been, while simultaneously continuing with their mission of Estonian liberation. Rumors about Soviet claims to the Baltic refugees were widely circulated in the Estonian camps. Time and again, the Soviet authorities made it clear to the Swedish government that the Soviet refugees, including the


59

Baltic ones, had to be repatriated. A reassuring climate can hardly have prevailed in the refugee camps, what with the presence of Soviet representatives combined with repeated pressure from both Soviet and Swedish authorities to return to what had now become Soviet Estonia. But the Soviet government did not content itself with these more or less informal demands. It also pressured Sweden, demanding, for example, control and supervision of all Soviet refugees in Sweden. Representatives from the Soviet consulate visited the Baltic camps in late 1944. They also demanded that the Swedish authorities provide them with register data for all Soviet refugees in Sweden. The historian Anders Berge concludes that although the Swedish authorities did not actually hand over register data to the Soviets, they did make exceptions to existing legislation in order to make it possible for Soviet representatives to approach the Baltic refugees as a group. Most refugees seem to have felt that the official Swedish standpoint was unclear. In addition, the fact that Sweden belonged to the tiny group of nations which rapidly recognized the de facto legality48 of the Soviet occupation of 1940 contributed to the general feelings of insecurity.49 The Swedish authorities thus continued to regard the Estonian refugees as Soviet citizens. In retrospect, as previously indicated, Sweden’s reasons for doing so appear to have been typically realistic and self-interested, focused on the economic and security interests of the Swedish State. Tensions between the Soviet superpower and Sweden led to the Soviet government criticizing Swedish behavior during the war. Sweden was clearly put under pressure, and the government probably saw few possibilities for actively resisting Soviet demands.50 The Swedish behavior during these years is, however, still debated and criticized. Besides the widespread doubts about Sweden’s strength—and will—to resist Soviet demands, many of those who left for Canada were also motivated by economic considerations. The open and still “unexploited” Canadian territory, rapidly developing into an immigrant society, tempted the Estonians with its greater opportunities for individual entrepreneurs—as we have seen a society well in line with the Estonian culture. Canada Decides to Accept Displaced Persons Besides the “Swedish” group, the other large group—of approximately 9,000 Estonian refugees that arrived in Canada in the years around

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1948–49—came primarily from the Displaced Persons camps (DP) in Germany and Austria. The camps had been set up immediately after the war by the United Nations Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA), and were later taken over by the International Refugee Organization (IRO). The Estonians spent between three to four years in the camps before being accepted as Canadian immigrants, an experience that affected the settlement process in Canada in ways that in retrospect can be assessed as mostly positive. In the DP camps after the war, the Estonian refugees tried to live a normal life under exceptional circumstances while waiting for an opportunity to settle somewhere outside the USSR. Since the refugees did not work, there was time to organize various activities. As in their exile communities later on, the Estonians quickly created a closely knit fabric of organizational activities—choirs, theatre, music, and scouting—all of which contributed to maintaining some structure to life during the years of internment. There are three things about the camp existence in Germany from 1945 to 1948 that are worth noting, as they impacted on later life in Canada. Firstly, schooling activities started almost immediately, and so the Estonian children were properly taught even though they were interned. Secondly, the enforced “passivity” with exceeding amounts of leisure time created opportunities for many of the younger adults to study toward a higher education exam or toward professional training. Thirdly, the involuntary intimacy contributed to bridging the eventual gaps caused by differences in professional and social status, and promoted social bonds of friendship that were important in creating new social networks once in Canada. “We should remember that the Estonian refugees were a cohesive community, many knew each other, and all were ready to help one another extensively,” writes Aun.51 The cooperative spirit and communalism, characteristic of Estonian rural life during independence, comes to mind; here was a community capable of creating social organization out of what appeared to be almost chaos. Once in Canada, the Estonians are said to have drawn heavily on the ethnic network established mainly during the period in the DP camps, both to further their careers and to help them settle in. This is in contrast to the refugees who arrived in Sweden, who were practically unknown to each other. Although they also spent the first period in refugee camps, it was for a comparatively short time, and it did not provide similar opportunities for building up everyday life, including social relations. The Canadian government had initially been rather cautious and reluctant to open its borders to refugees from Central and Eastern


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Europe, regarding them as less suitable than those from other parts of Europe. Thus, when the Estonians’ turn came in 1947, it was motivated by Canadian self-interest, as a step taken to promote Canadian economic and security interests and not primarily as an act of compassion or a general “moral” obligation. Canada, like many other countries accepting immigrants, chose to be highly selective, regarding immigration as a way of promoting domestic interests.52 “Canada was perfectly within her rights in selecting the immigrants she wanted,” Prime Minister MacKenzie King declared in 1947. He continued by saying that it is “not a fundamental human right of any alien to enter Canada. It is a privilege. It is a matter of domestic policy.”53 Consequently, the Canadian immigration authorities established strict criteria for determining which refugees would be accepted. These conditions applied both to marital status—only singles or heads of families prepared to leave their families behind were accepted—and to occupational or professional background. Discussions regarding desirable qualities could be quite blunt. Danys, for example, quotes the chairman of the Pacific Regional Advisory Board who, when asked his opinion on the question, responded that “the Baltic people in particular, of whom he had heard good things from the UNRRA, would be desirable citizens. In a f lash of racism, however, he advised against taking the “Mongol type of Jew from Poland and Russia” who, in his opinion, would not assimilate well.”54 Canada wanted mainly male labor in areas where the country was in need: lumbermen, farm laborers, and construction workers, and miners, as well as women domestics. Since, for one thing, the time spent in internment camps had provided excellent opportunities to study, many of the refugees were far too highly qualified for these sorts of jobs. “(M)any applicants concealed their education and training in order to be acceptable for immigration, and they stressed instead other experiences they might have, for instance, that they had grown up on a farm or had done some manual work in their youth.”55 A firsthand experience is provided here, by an Estonian landing in Halifax, Canada in 1947: From the original group of Estonians about ten men were Luksepp, Kanne, Sermat, Toop, Meier, Jostman, Kiviste, Munk etc., from this group of twenty only, as per original information, only one had been in high school, but now during interview only one man had not finished high school, and some had attended year or two the University.56

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The immigrants signed work contracts, often valid for only one year, during which time they were not allowed to move. The settlement pattern that developed thereafter was, however, an urban one: more than half of the population eventually settled in Toronto, and smaller groups were established in Montreal, Vancouver, Kitchener, and Hamilton. The Estonian refugees who settled in Canada encountered a country that many regarded as “primitive” and “culturally undeveloped,” claims Aun. They constantly compared the values and behavior of the Canadians to what they believed to be more highly sophisticated and distinguished European lifestyles. Aun describes this encounter with Canadian culture as the meeting between two very discrepant cultures while, as remembered, a common view in the literature has been the resemblance of Estonian to Swedish culture. Whereas the Canadian culture was a materialistic one, focused on commerce in all its forms, the Estonians were more “spiritually” oriented, perhaps more “European,” entertaining a high appreciation of art, music, and especially literature as well as education and scholarly activities. The Estonians strongly rejected materialism, along with what they considered to be a lack of understanding among Canadians of their immaterial losses of friends, relatives, and a true homeland. This cultural estrangement continued for decades. “Paradoxically, the successful integration of Estonian immigrants after the Second World War into the Canadian economy and society did not lead to a desire to integrate socially and culturally with the prevailing cultural patterns of Canada.”57 Descriptions of this kind easily rely on slightly simplified stereotypes, but chapter two shows that there may be grains of truth in the cultural orientation ascribed to the Estonians, since education and culture were very highly valued during the independence period. Interestingly enough, the Canadian political system, however, escaped the Estonians’ fierce criticism and skepticism. The negative sentiments felt toward politics in interwar Estonia could well have “spilt over” to institutions in the host country. In Canada, however, as Aun states, politicians were regarded as naïve but not corrupt. Equally, other key state institutions and public programs—the courts and the educational system—also appear to have won the general approval of the Estonian community,58 a perception that is strongly supported by the results presented in chapter four. In short, the Estonians have demonstrated trust and faith in the institutional framework of Canadian democracy and state, while at the same time being considerably more alienated from what they perceived to be a materialistic Canadian and North American lifestyle. Against the background of the norm of equality and


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individuality cherished during the time of Estonian independence, there are nevertheless reasons to suspect that the cultural resemblance between Estonian and Canadian societies is closer than previously believed. The Estonian Communities in Exile: Sweden A large number of Estonians who f led to Europe settled in Sweden. Figures from 1980 state that around 35,500 persons of Estonian background (including children born in Sweden) were living in Sweden at that time.59 The majority of Estonians, who had lived in the countryside in Estonia as peasants or fishermen, became urban dwellers in exile.60 However, on arriving in Sweden, the refugees were not allowed to settle in the large cities. Most have eventually come to live in the capital of Stockholm, the center for the Swedish-Estonians, although they also reside in some smaller Swedish cities as well. During their first years in exile many of the refugees, regardless of professional background and education, worked in unskilled positions, as farm workers, lumbermen, or factory workers.61 A second-generation Estonian, for example, remembers that on the arrival to Sweden, the family settled in the northern parts where his father worked at the large river dams being built just after the war. In the northern parts, he was now and then asked by his classmates about why the family had actually f led Estonia, something that did not happen once the family moved southward. “At the river dams a lot of persons worked who shared a Communist or socialist conviction.” The classmates’ questions probably stemmed from such ideological commitment among the parents.62 However, as the refugees became more established in Swedish society, their social mobility improved, and Swedish Estonians must be regarded as a successful immigrant group, integrating well into the host society. “The children did not suffer from being exposed to two different languages or different calendar traditions. They were Swedes in society and Estonians at home. Isolation or partiality would have been dangerous and absolutely impossible to defend,” writes a first-generation refugee in her memoirs.63 The children of the first generation have done particularly well, and figures show that they are more highly educated than the average citizen.64 Even though the profound respect for education and a sense of the need to prepare for a future career has been inherited by the second generation, the Estonians have been individualistically oriented when it comes to both careers and marriage—although,

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as Walko writes, it is an individuality embedded “in a secure familial context.”65 Representatives of the interwar generation, that is, the first wave of refugees, have also attained professionally high positions in Swedish society,66 possibly because of the continuing inf luence of the preoccupation with individual achievement. According to Walko’s unique study on Estonian ethnicity in a U.S. community, more than half of the Estonians of the first generation took pride in being “industrious” and making it on their own, and there are no reasons to believe that the Estonians settling in Sweden behaved much differently.67 However, life was not always easy as a young first-generation Estonian recalls: I knew no one in Stockholm (the capital of Sweden) who could vouch for me, I was not permitted (being a single unattached woman) to work in the city. That was the law—period. I ended up working as a housemaid for Mr. Sandgren, who earned his living as a coal burner. I had come full circle: From the manor house of a baron, to the humble dwellings of a lowly, poor serf.68 The Estonians are imbued by the self-image of the group as hardworking, not in need of any help from the outside. The self-image of the group is that the Estonians manage on their own.69 In those days, it was also possible as well as required to do so in order to survive economically. Today, many immigrants face the opposite situation: it is quite hard to get into the Swedish labor market. The confrontation between the Estonian and the Swedish mentality and culture has been described as mild. “The cultural distance between the Estonian and the Swedish society was (and is) small, which is why the social adaptation of the Swedish-Estonians in general went rather well,” a brief description of Estonians in Sweden concludes.70 However, that is not the overall conclusion drawn here. Although the Estonians shared a general “European” outlook with the Swedes—while still placing more importance on education, culture, and historical traditions— profound differences in social behavior and mentality confronted the refugees. A recurrent theme in the in-depth interviews was the astonishment many felt when confronted by the more or less subtle manifestations of class and social status in the Swedish society of the 1940s and 1950s. In Estonia, as chapter two demonstrated, social stratification amongst Estonians had been comparatively undeveloped due to the nation’s youth and economic organization. The absence of an indigenous nobility or upper class in the Estonian first republic strongly


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contributed to the f lat social structure. In Sweden, social position was accentuated wherever you looked, in details as well as in principle. One example of this was the everyday use of titles. These were unfamiliar customs for many Estonians, who regarded them as bothersome and formal. The predominantly equal structure that the respondents had been accustomed to in Estonia did not prepare them for the severity of the Swedish social hierarchy. As the egalitarian welfare state developed in Sweden during the 1950s and 1960s as a drastic political response to the prevailing hierarchical social order, it was equally alien to the Estonian mentality. In exile, the Estonian language has been the most crucial bearer of culture and national identity.71 Estonian was spoken in most Estonian homes in Sweden, but Estonians have never aimed at cultural isolation, and have developed bilingual skills that have greatly simplified their integration into Sweden. The educational institutions established by the community, such as the Estonian kindergartens and the Estonian schools in Stockholm, stand out as the clearest and most symbolically important preservers of language and identity. Surprisingly enough, they were later supported by the state.72 From the very beginning of their exile, Estonians organized schools in the refugee camps in Sweden and Germany73and the Estonian School in Stockholm was started as early as 1945, and has existed for over sixty years. And by the 1960s, complementary schools were also functioning in Sweden. Preserving the Estonian Legacy Among the Estonians in Sweden political, social, and cultural organizations began to develop immediately, with some delay for the politically oriented ones. In both the Canadian and Swedish communities of exiles, vast webs of organizational activities were created, and the Estonians developed into an extremely well-organized minority.74 This preference for organizations may well have been an effect of the spread of associations during the period of national awakening in the late nineteenth century, and during independence. Communalism was widespread in independent Estonia, and continued in exile, where the tradition to join together in associations became a means to keep identity alive, while in Estonia it was clearly associated to the role as citizen; in building the country.75 Furthermore, both in Stockholm and in Toronto, a so-called Eesti Maja (Estonian House) has been erected as points of community connection and here many of the numerous

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Estonian organizations, which cover a broad range of activities from politics, in the sense of focusing on Estonian liberation, to social objectives, hold their meetings and have office space for administration. Besides the more political and socially oriented associations, youth organizations— primarily Boy Scouts, Girl Guides, and Home Daughters76 —have been successfully promoted among the exiles as a means of fostering Estonian children born outside Estonia in traditions from the independence period.77 Youth organizations were, as we have seen, very popular in the first republic, and organized hundreds of thousands of boys and girls. What with choirs, senior citizens’ associations, literature associations, and many others, the organization life has blossomed. Both the Swedish and the Canadian Estonians have also published their own newspapers, which appear weekly or monthly. Having f led from an occupation power that imposed on them an ideologically different system from the one that existed during independence, the groups of exiles, particularly Estonians of the interwar generation, have been driven by a common mission to preserve and protect Estonian culture and values, a particular lifestyle of living close to nature and the woods, as exemplified by the Scouts and the Girl Guides.78 However, the Estonians not only fought against forgetting their national roots; for many the single most important tasks were the struggle for a liberated Estonia. A significant feature of Estonian political organizations in both Sweden and Canada has been a high level of internal division, and this has probably damaged their reputation in the eyes of the Estonians as well as of the general Western public. In Canada, profound political divisions split the community in two. In Sweden too, internal struggles led to the Estonian group splitting apart. Particularly Estonians with a low level of education ended up withdrawing from the ethnic community, partly because they felt ashamed (in particular since education was so highly praised),79 and partly because of the internal struggles in the organizations.80 Visits by Estonians to the occupied Estonia, which became more frequent during the 1970s and 1980s, have been particularly controversial for the politically oriented organizations, which have taken different stands on the question. Since some Estonians regarded these visits as an act of disloyalty that gave “silent approval” to the occupying power, the issue became quite heated. “You do not ask permission to visit your homeland,” was the general view of the strong nationalists, who abstained from contact with Soviet Estonia. Sentiments were strong on both sides, and in Toronto at the time there were even rumors of espionage and infiltration by the KGB.81 But contacts and


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visits increased among the Estonians in Canada as well, although the political tensions surrounding the issue of Soviet Estonia were high for a long time. Estonian Culture in Exile In conclusion, both communities of exiles have been fairly active, maintaining strong ties within the ethnic group, while simultaneously integrating quite successfully into both the Canadian and the Swedish society. Studies have shown that the desire to integrate has been quite high among the first-generation Estonians, that is, basically the interwar generation.82 The overall impression remains that the conditions for Estonians in exile in Canada and in Sweden are similar in some basic aspects. The long-lasting democratic institutions, the political rights, and the rights enjoyed by the individual present in both countries—if they exercise the inf luence the rationalists believe they do—would be expected to shape the exile mentalities in directions clearly supportive of democracy. But the liberalism that dominated the political discourse in Canada must have been more appealing to the interwar Estonians than the drastic egalitarianism promoted through political means that they successively encountered in Sweden. Likewise, the hierarchical social order persisting in Sweden, which has been brought up repeatedly, must have made it harder to reconcile with the norm of equality and the experiences of a significantly less hierarchically organized society that the Estonians brought with them. Canada, on the other hand, turned more rapidly into an immigrant society after World War II, where classes—at least among the newcomers—did not play a prominent social role. The political signals regarding minority respect and rights that these two states sent out later, as well as their transformation into multiethnic societies, naturally constituted an institutional environment that was important to the Estonians, even though they arrived before these policies were actually introduced. While Canada has promoted a policy that actively encourages minorities, based on the “immaterial” values of recognition, memory, and the blending of particular ethnic histories with the comprehensive Canadian history, Sweden has not moved as far in that direction, except perhaps in the last decade, and with what many believe to be less success. On the other hand, despite perceived public indifference, Estonians in Sweden have, nevertheless, managed to establish a minority community resembling that of the Canadian-Estonians.

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What conclusions can be reached regarding the potential inf luence that spending one’s adult life in either Sweden or Canada has had on value formation? On the basis of rationalist theory, the contextual differences between Canada and Sweden, especially with regard to their economic and social organization, should eventually be seen as slight differences between the two communities of exiles. In addition, there should be major similarities that are dependent on the inf luence of the democratic institutions in both countries. While the SwedishEstonians should be more favorably oriented toward egalitarianism and state responsibility, the Canadian-Estonians should exhibit more “market-oriented” values, and be less supportive of state responsibility and egalitarianism. In chapter four, these “informed” guesses will be examined in the light of empirical data.

CH A P T E R

FOU R

The Exile Communities: A Surprising Gap in Civicness

The major purpose of this book is to discover more about whether and how early socialized political culture affects individual processes of adjusting to institutional changes. The reason for focusing so strongly on the tiny Estonian community is, to repeat what I pointed out already in chapter one, that this group provides us better than most with the rare opportunity of a “natural experiment.” The Estonian interwar generation per se is not what primarily interests me here even though the fate of the Estonian nation is a fascinating story. What instead is of major interest is the way that their cultural reactions to life in exile (and under occupation) can inform the theoretical discussion about the interaction between institutions and culture. The inf luences on the individual Estonian’s civic orientations brought about by their different host countries in exile, Canada and Sweden, is focused upon in this chapter. Estonia lost its independence and only regained it in 1991. A majority of the refugees were between twenty and forty years old upon reaching their destinations in Europe. In retrospect, we now know that these people were to spend the major part of their lives outside their native country of Estonia. In the almost fifty years that followed, the refugees settled into their new countries of Sweden, Canada, the United States, and Australia. While the many thousands living in exile initially believed this to be a temporary situation with a return to Estonia apparently a realistic option, this hope gradually transformed into an acceptance of the permanence of the situation. Today, the refugees of the interwar generation have reached old age: they are all well over seventy, and many are in their eighties or

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even older. Although Estonia is at present an independent state with a democratically elected government and a multiparty system, an overwhelming majority of the Estonians in exile have chosen not to return, for many reasons. For example, many regard readjustment to what they believe to be an Estonia far from the one they once knew to be too much of an obstacle.1 Besides, over the extended period a large number of the first-generation Estonians in exile have become rooted elsewhere, and today they are established and integrated senior citizens in their present communities. Civic Virtues and Civic Culture I start by investigating values among the Estonian interwar generation in exile concerning democratic virtues and community commitment, that is, what has been called civic culture or civicness. In the lengthy and vital discussion on democracy, democratic stability, and political culture, the concept of “civic culture” has played a key role. In the more recently published literature in the field of political culture, civic values have been defined as a group of orientations and values intimately connected to a well-functioning democracy, and that is how the concept is interpreted here. However, the meaning originally attributed to civic culture when it was introduced in 1963 by Almond and Verba definitely had other connotations. They assumed that, for a democracy to become stable, there had to be a balance, a certain mix, between what they called parochial, subject, and participant cultures. It was this particular cultural equilibrium that constituted the democratically beneficial “civic culture.”2 In later research the concept of civic culture has been transformed, taking on a different meaning equivalent to “civic virtue” or “republicanism.”3 Understood as the aggregated presence of democratically virtuous beliefs in, for example, a nation or a subgroup, the concept of civic culture tends to refer to the presence of values underpinning cooperation, tolerance, and trust, rather than to a particular “mix” of active and passive subcultures. Again, in order to be labeled “civic” these attitudes should signal involvement and commitment to self-rule and community spirit. What “virtues” or orientations are being referred to? Basically, the entire discussion could be interpreted as broadly circling around the phenomena of community commitment, a disposition believed to appear in various guises. One subcategory of values focuses on involvement in community affairs, measured as involvement in politics and political interest; another relates

The Exile Communities

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to broad-mindedness and commitment to the well-being of others and investigates the level of solidarity, trust, and tolerance. From this brief presentation of a discussion that, in political science, is very extensive, it should be apparent that civic virtues have been regarded as perhaps the cultural ref lection of liberal democracies. If they are not seen to be a necessary condition for democracy to take root, these virtues are at least assumed to play a crucial part in positively inf luencing democracy’s stability and quality.4 Naturally, the relationship between democratic government and civic culture is most probably one of interaction; that is, these factors inf luence each other. Democratic Virtues Democratic virtues focus on the behavior regarded as normatively desirable in a citizen, that is, how one should behave as a citizen. In a large Swedish survey investigating attitudes among citizens, several dimensions that revolve around norms of citizen behavior are identified.5 Three of these have been chosen here: activity and participation, rule-following, and personal autonomy. These are all highly praised as core values in liberal, participatory democracies of the Canadian and Swedish type, and also partly characterized the political culture of the first Estonian republic, with its outspoken communalism and strong individualism. In other words, the questions attempt to reveal how the interwar Estonians in exile think people ought to behave as members of a political community, but say nothing about how they themselves actually behave. It is important to bear this in mind. The dimensions are (a) how important it is to be active as a citizen, (b) how important it is for citizens to follow rules and legislation, and (c) how important it is that citizens form autonomous opinions (see table 4.1).6 The general picture is one of similarity rather than difference. Among the virtues, activity receives the lowest score comparatively, Table 4.1 Political virtues (how important are different political virtues [means on a scale where 0 “minimum importance” to 100 “maximum importance”] ) Group:

Importance of activity

Importance of rule-following

Importance of personal autonomy

Swedish-Est.

62

88

88

Canadian-Est.

67

92

85

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while rule-following and autonomy are evaluated more highly in both groups. How does the identified pattern in the interwar generation correspond to the general political culture of Canada and Sweden as measured by the large-scale World Value Surveys (WVS) that repeatedly have measured numerous orientations among national populations in the world?7 Unfortunately, in the recent surveys that are of most relevance here, questions have not been posed that are directly applicable to comparisons. However, for rule-following, Canadian and Swedish attitudes toward cheating on taxes could be used as a fairly good proxy. In 1990, when both Canada and Sweden were included in the WVS, 59 percent of Canadians stated that it was never justified to cheat on one’s taxes while 56 percent of the Swedish sample indicated likewise. The weight attributed to rule-following among the Estonians in exile is considerably larger, which could indicate two things. It could be a sign of a life-cycle effect, as the elderly Estonians represent a generation that generally tends to value law-abiding higher than the younger generations included in the WVS sample. It could also be an indication of tenacity. Individualism versus Egalitarianism The belief that all individuals are equal and of similar worth are one of the cornerstones of democratic theory. But in a civic culture, equality can take on different meanings. While equality sometimes is interpreted as the liberal perception of equal opportunity, egalitarianism can be seen as a more far-reaching idea of leveling out differences in life conditions. Often associated with a notion of equal results, in contrast to a belief in individual achievement, egalitarianism has been pronounced in socialist as well as in social-democratic societies. In many national settings, the balance of individualism and egalitarianism is best captured through the beliefs governing construction of economic incentives.8 The question in this category, therefore, focuses on whether the respondents believe that efficiency, competence, and individual achievement, as opposed to age and the years an individual has been active at work, should be economically rewarded. The latter position signals a more egalitarian position that sides well with the Swedish welfare system, the former a liberal and more achievement-oriented one, which comes closer to Canadian liberalism. Figure 4.1 reveals, somewhat surprisingly, that there are practically no differences between the groups. From the rationalist point of view,


73

Swe-Est.

83

Can-Est.

82

Figure 4.1 Proportion of Estonian interwar respondents believing that efficiency and personal achievement should be economically rewarded at work.

the puzzling result here is the high support of individual achievement among the Swedish-Estonians, despite the Swedish institutional context of egalitarianism. In the WVS, where an identical question regarding efficiency and achievement has been posed, a political-cultural difference is demonstrated between the countries since in the wave of 1990, 82 percent of the Canadians supported the achievement alternative as opposed to 62 percent of the Swedes. When it comes to individualism and egalitarianism, early socialization in the highly equality- and achievement-oriented first republic of Estonia appears to continue to have an impact, even when the Estonians, as in Sweden, have been exposed to a deviating institutional context. From a rationalist perspective, the result must come as a surprise. One of the major institutional and cultural differences between the two host societies has resulted in little, if any, differences in perceptions among the interwar generation. The culturalist prediction that the generation as a whole would continue to value individual achievement highly, as a consequence of a formative socialization, seems to hold. Trust Interpersonal trust is sometimes known as generalized trust.9 Robert Putnam’s pioneering study in 1993, which showed that trust plays a key part in providing the social capital underpinning good government, opened the way for various empirical and theoretical studies into the nature, origin, and importance of trust. In particular, trust has played a central role in the broad and sometimes conceptually confused academic discussion on social capital as one of its three building blocks, the other two being “norms of reciprocity” and “networks.” Here, social trust has been treated according to the political science tradition, as an abstract value bereft of its social context, although the “sociologically” inspired objections to such a measure are definitely worth considering. Perceptions included in the trust category fall into three dimensions. The first relates to whether you trust people close to you, and comprises

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three questions: (a) when you have cooperated with others, have you been convinced that things would work out? (b) in the future, will there always be people you can count on? and (c) how much do you trust your family? The second dimension is also an indexed variable, dealing with the question of whether to trust people in general. As with the first dimension, three different questions make up this dimension: (a) are most people helpful? (b) would people take advantage of you? and (c) do you trust people in general? Finally, a third dimension captures the trust the respondents feel toward inhabitants in their country of residence (Canada and Sweden) (see figure 4.2).10 For the dimension of trusting people in general, the measure most frequently used in political science for determining levels of interpersonal trust, statistically significant differences between the exile groups exist. The Swedish-Estonians show somewhat higher trust in people in general as well as in inhabitants in their country of residence, while an opposite pattern is true for trusting people close to you. Here, the Canadian-Estonians’ rate very high. There are obvious signs of a mechanism of resocialization. The WVS’ identical question on interpersonal trust produces a response pattern corresponding closely to the one found among the Estonians in exile. In 1990, 53 percent of the Canadians compared to 66 percent of the Swedish respondents answered affirmatively to the question whether most people could be trusted. In the 1996 wave of WVS, where Canada was not included, the Swedish figure had decreased to

People close-by Swed-Est. Can-Est.

85

People in general Swed-Est. Can-Est.

60

69

People in country of residence Swed-Est. Can-Est. Figure 4.2

62 55

Trust (means on a scale from 0 [minimum trust] to 100 [maximum trust]).

92


75

60 percent. Still, the pattern persists: the Swedes trust their fellow beings more than the Canadians and the same goes for the Estonians in the respective countries.

Tolerance Along with trust, political tolerance is one of the civic values assigned an exceptional position in the discussion on political culture and democracy. It encapsulates the ideal on which democracy rests, that is, profound respect for the right to freely express opinions. The tolerance dimension is based on a single question, namely how the respondents react to the idea of guaranteeing freedom of speech to extremist groups. A clear majority of both the Swedish-Estonians (75 percent) and the Canadian-Estonians (87 percent) adopt a liberal attitude toward political extremists. The result is statistically significant. Aside from this rationalist-predicted result, (as living in open, democratic societies should generate a tendency toward broad-mindedness), table 4.2, however, reveals substantial differences between the two groups. The Swedish-Estonians show a less tolerant profile on political extremists: 25 percent believe that they should be deprived of their democratic rights most of the time, while the analogous figure for the Canadian-Estonians is 13 percent. Likewise, the Canadian-Estonians take a more absolute stand in favor of political tolerance than do the group living in Sweden. Fifty percent chose the “strongest” alternative, while only 21 percent of the Swedish-Estonians did the same. These results are statistically significant. Again, there is no identical question in the more recent waves of WVS that could be used for comparisons. In the 1995–96 waves, when questions regarding “least liked” groups and their right to hold demonstrations appeared, Canada did not Table 4.2 Tolerance (distribution in percentages of the respondents in the different groups, in four different categories). Should extremist movements be deprived of the right to freedom of speech and association? Group: Swedish-Estonians Canadian-Estonians

Yes

Most of the time

Usually not

Under no circumstances

9 5

16 8

54 37

21 50

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participate. In the Swedish public, 30 percent believed that the leastliked category, neo-Nazis, should be allowed to demonstrate publicly. But a comparative figure for Canada is missing here. Furthermore, there is no easy theoretical explanation for the rather large discrepancy between the exile communities. One hypothesis could be that the more heterogeneous character of Canadian society has produced greater tolerance in general. Another interpretation would be that the lower political tolerance of the Swedish-Estonians is part of a larger “alienation” syndrome, one that originates from a lack of cultural correspondence. Political Efficacy Political efficacy is concerned with the perception that the respondents have of the power to inf luence political decision-making, particularly by participating in general elections. It is possible that these sorts of perceptions rather than, for example, ideas about virtues and norms of behavior, tend to ref lect actual experiences, that is, are evaluative statements. It is equally possible that profoundly different approaches, varying from action-oriented (optimistic) to misanthropic (pessimistic and resigned), show up in a factor like efficacy. Clear differences between the Canadian-Estonians and SwedishEstonians emerge. The differences are slightly reduced when controlled for, but are still statistically significant. The results are bewildering. How can we make sense of the large, and theoretically unexpected, divide between the two exile communities? As figure 4.3 shows, when compared to the Swedish-Estonians, the Canadian-Estonians judge their potential to inf luence politics through general elections to be much higher. Regarding political efficacy, the WVS offers only limited possibilities for comparison with the general political cultures of the two countries, since questions of efficacy were not posed in the later waves. But we can get an approximate picture of how the Swedish and Canadian publics evaluate their general possibilities of inf luence by looking at two other questions. Answers to the question about whether the respondent believes the country to be run by a “few, big interests looking out for themselves” or for the “benefit of all the people” do not Swe-Est. Can-Est.

46 75

Figure 4.3 General efficacy (means on a scale from 0 [minimum inf luence] to 100 [maximum inf luence] ).


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support an interpretation of the general Canadian public being less democratically disillusioned than the Swedish, but instead the contrary. In 1990, 70 percent of the Canadians believed their country to be run by a few big interests, while the figure for Sweden in 1996 was 59 percent. If anything, there is reason to believe that the Swedish political culture is a slightly more democratically optimistic one. Hence, the results for the Estonians in exile do not appear to be an effect of resocialization, but they are not consistent with the mechanism of stability, either, since that would have implied more similar results at the lower end of the scale. There are few apparent differences in the way that the Canadian and Swedish democracies function that could directly explain such different “evaluations” of democratic possibilities by first-generation immigrants. Again, a possible explanation is that different experiences when it comes to feelings of cultural alienation or familiarity have played a role here. That would point to the Swedish-Estonians as feeling more culturally distant from their host society than the Canadian-Estonians. Let us move on to inquire as to how the now elderly Estonian interwar generation perceive the state, the public, and political authorities and the society in large in the two exile communities. The Estonian first republic carried with it a legacy of century-long rule by primarily the Baltic Germans and the Russian administrators, one that had alienated the native Estonians from state affairs long back. Also under democratic and national rule, the state and politics did not play any prominent role in ordinary Estonians life, as chapter two showed. Nevertheless, it is highly interesting to inquire whether such sentiments of alienation have persisted over the years, or whether more participant and even optimistic worldviews have developed. Firstly, orientations will be examined that more directly relate to political institutions, state structures, and authorities. The émigrés have been asked to ref lect on their conception of the public sphere and the relationship between the public sphere and the citizen. Secondly, how the respondents perceive that society in large functions is included in the presentation. It needs to be emphasized that the Estonians were asked to ref lect on how “society” actually works, and not on the normative issue of how it ought to function. The orientations in question are of an evaluative nature, and are probably inf luenced by recent experience. On the other hand, culturalists believe that even evaluative orientations regarding phenomena such as state institutions are resistant to “new” information once formed in the process of early socialization. In other words, in the view of the culturalists, the abstract notion of “society” is

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as likely to be heavily inf luenced by the knowledge and experiences carried over from the society of one’s childhood and youth as it is by more recent experiences. The Responsibility of the State This first dimension concentrates on an ideologically classic issue: how the different groups regard the balance of responsibility between the individual and the state. The dimension attempts to capture the view of individualism and collectivism. The question posed in the interviews is whether the individual herself should take responsibility for her wellbeing, or whether she feels the major responsibility for individual wellbeing should rest with the state. Figure 4.4 shows a smaller difference between the Swedish- and the Canadian-Estonians. The pattern is expected from what we know about the interwar political culture, with its strong backing of hard work and rewards of individual achievement. As an individual, you should be able to look out for yourself. The Canadian-Estonian émigrés strongly repudiate the idea of state responsibility, and almost unanimously (97 percent) believe in individual responsibility. The SwedishEstonians come close to the Canadian-Estonians, while at the same time showing somewhat more approval for the idea of state dependence, which could suggest a slight tendency to resocialize under the inf luence of an egalitarian institutional context. The correlation is statistically significant. Does the pattern found correspond to the national political culture in the two countries? In the WVS, an identical question about the responsibility of the individual in contrast to the state was asked. Surprisingly, in 1990 the Swedish public was more supportive of individual responsibility (63 percent) than the Canadian one (51 percent). In 1996, the Swedish support for such a view has decreased considerably. Fifty-two percent then agreed that people should take more responsibility for their own well-being. In Sweden, economic crises and high unemployment rates during the 1990s shook the system, Swed-Est. Can-Est.

90 97

Figure 4.4 The proportion of respondents who believe that the individual is primarily responsible for her own well-being.


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which could provide a possible explanation. Overall, the results point mostly in the direction of a tenacity effect. The Responsiveness of State Institutions The legitimacy of the state is also determined by the governments and the authorities’ openness and willingness to enter into dialogue with the citizens. In democracies, the accessibility of public institutions is a decisive characteristic, and is a task accomplished with the help of civil society associations channeling information and demands between institutions and citizens. The category of perceptions investigated in this section falls into two separate dimensions: firstly, the exile Estonians’ perceptions of whether political competition (between parties) benefits political life,11 and secondly, whether they think that public institutions pay attention to ordinary people (see figure 4.5). For these values, clear differences following a pattern already identified for some of the other questions show up. The Canadian-Estonians consistently value the political and public system more highly than the Swedish-Estonians, both in terms of responsiveness and political competition. The correlation is statistically significant as well as being consistent with what now appears to be a tendency of the CanadianEstonians to demonstrate greater faith in their democratic system.

Perceptions of political competition Swe-Est. Can-Est.

73 83

Perceptions of public authorities Means on a scale from 0 (minimum attention) to 100 (maximum attention): Public institutions and politicans pay attention to people’s opinions Swe-Est. Can-Est.

45 61

Figure 4.5 Perceptions of political competition (means on a scale from 0 [minimum positive] to 100 [maximum positive] ).

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Earlier findings pointing in the same direction were observed for political efficacy and political tolerance. Clearly, as long as these results are not an effect of selection bias, the conclusion would be that, in the eyes of the minority community of Estonians, the Canadian institutions function more democratically than the Swedish-Estonians believe Swedish institutions do. Institutional Confidence Lastly, a dimension is presented, which intends to more directly capture the way each group trusts their political system. Previous results lead us to expect that the Swedish-Estonians should demonstrate less confidence. The institutions included are the parliament, the party system and the government, leading politicians, the education system, the army, the police, and the civil service. This dimension differs from several of the other values, in that it openly asks for a direct “evaluation” of the present public apparatus (see figure 4.6). As expected, the Canadian-Estonians show comparatively higher levels of confidence in their public institutions than the Swedish respondents, a correlation that is statistically significant. This difference fits well into the already observed pattern of a more institutionally confident Canadian-Estonian population. We finally ask, by again using data from the WVS, if the finding corresponds to the general political cultures of the two host countries. Do the Canadians in general, to a greater extent than the Swedes, harbor feelings of confidence toward the system? By looking at table 4.3, it becomes clear that the difference in institutional confidence shown between the exile groups in Canada and Sweden hardly can be explained by a mechanism presuming a resocialization of Canadian-Estonians to a generally more institutionally trusting political culture. Swedes and Canadians believe approximately as much (or as little) in their public institutions, even though the Canadians demonstrate slightly more trust in their implementing institutions, while Swedes have a somewhat higher regard for the political ones (government and parliament). Swe-Est. Can-Est.

51

60

Figure 4.6 Confidence in the institutions in country of residence (means on a scale from 0 [minimum confidence] to 100 [maximum confidence] ).


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Table 4.3 Percent of WVS respondents who confide in public and political institutions Canada (1990)

Sweden (1996)

38

42

Parliament

37

45

Civil service

50

45

Armed forces

56

54

Police

84

81

Government

Source: World Value Surveys, 1990, 1996.

The Swedish-Estonians believe less in the political system but trust others more, while the Canadians have stronger confidence in the political system, but trust fellow human beings less. This is a theoretically interesting result, since in recent literature on the roots of social trust focus has been on the causal links between trust in state institutions of primarily an implementing nature (the police, the legal system) and social trust. The hypothesis has been that confidence in the fairness of these implementing institutions gives rise to social trust.12 However, the data here do not support such a conclusion, since not only are the Canadian-Estonians less socially trusting but they also have a higher confidence in their political and public institutions, including the civil service and the police—as is the case with the Canadian public in general. Explaining Swedish-Estonian Disillusion: Cultural Distance Initially, cultural tenacity, resocialization, and cultural correspondence were introduced as the three major mechanisms by which the interaction of culture and institutional change at the individual level has been explained in the literature. Correspondence between the culture of origin and the political culture of the host country was presented as an elaboration of culturalism, since early socialization continues to play a prominent part in the explanation. While the cultural response among the émigré Estonians was tenacity in two cases—rewarding individual efficiency and the individual’s responsibility for his or her

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well-being—resocialization clearly was the mechanism that explained the important pattern of social trust. For civic virtues and tolerance, the interpretation is uncertain with respect to the theories, since sufficient data to determine the extent of resocialization are lacking. However, in the three cases of general efficacy, the responsiveness of institutions, and confidence in institutions, the responses cannot easily be identified as either resocialization or tenacity. The CanadianEstonians systematically demonstrate a greater belief in their possibilities to inf luence the system, coupled with a greater belief in the responsiveness of institutions, and very consistently, a higher level of general confidence in their institutions. The pattern is internally consistent and does not ref lect general differences between the political culture in Sweden and Canada.13 Rather, the general tendency is for Sweden to come out as more democratic. How can we make theoretical and empirical sense of these results?14 In the concluding chapter, I come back to these intriguing questions by sketching an explanation built on cultural correspondence and distance.

CH A P T E R

F I V E


This chapter broadens the focus in order to also include those among the interwar generation who experienced their country being transformed into a Soviet republic. This will, however, be done by continuously contrasting the values of these “home” Estonians with their exile communities in order to encircle the specific civic profile of the first group. I have already mentioned in the introductory chapter that the data reported on this group is less straightforward to interpret, since the home Estonians were interviewed after yet another institutional change had taken place: the regaining of independence and democracy in Estonia. Nevertheless, in order to pinpoint crucial questions about cultural responses to institutional change, the present-day civic commitment and political culture of this group are interesting sources. What is captured is, however, clearly not only the impact of Sovietization but of post-Communist realities as well. Estonia under Occupation: A Comment on Sources of Information What was life like in Estonia under siege? In chapter two the first Estonian republic was pictured as a society characterized by equality, individualism, and communalism, in combination with a—for the pragmatically oriented Estonian—surprisingly strong repudiation of Communism. Fear of what the Russian state, or more correctly the Soviet Union, had in mind for tiny Estonia colored some of the memories of the

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interwar generation. This fear was definitely not unwarranted, and Estonia for many decades ended up exactly where it most feared: under a Communist regime that quickly abolished private ownership and freedoms. The Soviet Union was a highly controlled empire, and many of the written reports, statistics, and documents were published with the direct aim of serving as propaganda tools. Cultural Life in Soviet Estonia, (1977), a volume on artistic development in Estonia after 1940, is a typical example of this genre. The anonymous authors of Cultural Life in Soviet Estonia describe Estonian history during the war years as 1944 “liberation” from the German fascists. Furthermore, they declare that Estonian authors during the 1950s were rather preoccupied in their prose and poetry with the working-class struggle and with spreading socialist attitudes among the population.1 This was the type of propaganda the regime offered to the Estonian population. The aim was to erase nationalist sentiments and memories of the Estonian past while trying to provoke feelings of identification and loyalty with the Soviet Union. Yet another telling example can be taken from Soviet Estonia (1980), a comprehensive book on various aspects of Estonian society and history. Here the authors firmly conclude that Estonia voluntarily joined the USSR in 1940 and “in joining the other equal Soviet socialist republics the Estonian SSR has retained its sovereignty; this is guaranteed by the right provided under the Constitution to freely leave the USSR.”2 While these are dismal documents of a time that, in retrospect, in some but far from all aspects appeared oppressive, it is obvious that documents of this type are useless as accurate sources describing the actual living conditions or social and political developments under Soviet reign. In other words, there are very few reliable contemporary sources produced “within” Soviet Estonia that we can use as a basis for constructing a picture of Soviet Estonian society and the kind of values, beliefs, and attitudes such a society was likely to produce. A few scholars of political culture from the 1950s onward, for example, Alex Inkeles and Donna Bahry, tried in various ways to capture the essence of the Soviet mentality, particularly through using smaller surveys involving primarily Soviet defectors and émigrés. The methodological problems, not least the question of self-selection, that follows from this approach are considerable, even if the desire and need to understand what went on behind the Iron Curtain to a certain extent legitimated unorthodox means. However, as Inkeles concludes in 1968, “There is a marked paucity of studies which interpret Soviet social development, seek to trace the evolution of Soviet society. . . .”3 Archie Brown and


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Stephen White for decades published extensively on Soviet political culture and society,4 as did Vera Dunham, Mary McCauley, and Martin McCauley.5 But the bulk of the literature on the USSR has been published fairly recently, when the empire was already withering, and after the collapse of the USSR in the 1990s. By using various bits and pieces from previous and more recent research, I have attempted to paint a general picture of the Soviet period in Estonia’s history. This background provides the context in which to analyze the present-day political culture of the home Estonians of the interwar generation, those who remained in Estonia. Estonia Becomes Eesti NSV The Red Army returned to Estonia in 1944. After three years of Nazi occupation, which lasted from 1941 to 1944, the Soviet Union was once more approaching, this time in what quickly proved to be a successful attempt to defeat the already weakened German army.6 In October of the same year, thousands and thousands of Estonians f led the country, most of them in small fishing boats headed for the Swedish coast. Some of those who f led constituted the nation’s intellectual elite, highly educated professionals with what had seemed like a promising future.7 In 1944, many f led in desperation. Many also stayed. For different reasons, perhaps mainly the lack of both opportunities and resources to leave, they remained in the Estonian cities and in the countryside awaiting the inevitable Soviet victory and, what nobody foresaw, almost fifty years of Soviet occupation.8 Very quickly Estonia was then cut off from Western Europe and the rest of the world. For decades to come the population was literally locked in, unable to contact the many relatives and friends living in exile around the world, whether in Canada and the United States, in Sweden, or in Australia and Germany. Between 1944 and Stalin’s death in 1953 the Soviets were extremely active in many fields, working to transform Estonian society into a Soviet republic. It was a massive effort directed at indoctrinating the subjected nation. The primary intention was not only to preach the virtues of Marxist ideology but to force the greatness and superiority of the Russian nation onto the subjected nations.9 Praise of the Russian nation and recurrent attempts to institutionalize this superiority, rather than a particularly strong ideological devotion to Communist ideals, have been described as crucial characteristics of the Soviet regime in

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Estonia. For example, historical events were reinterpreted in order to provide a picture of an eternal bond of friendship between Russia and Estonia, as in the propagandistic books quoted earlier.10 Poets and writers viewed as bourgeois or as having a decadent attitude were silenced, banned, and executed, and teachers were “imported” from Russia or reeducated to become advocates of the now dominant order. The Estonian refugees who settled in Sweden, Canada, and the United States during these years played a crucial role in upholding the national culture while the worst Stalinist terror and the processes of Russification were in progress back home. “Their very existence inf luenced developments back home, and probably speeded up the post-Stalin cultural recovery,” state Misiunas and Taagepera.11 Their conclusion receives further support from the recollections of the Estonians in exile themselves, whom as we saw in previous chapters attributed a great deal of the successful preservation of Estonian language and culture to the widespread communalism.12 The effects of the first period of Soviet occupation were terrifying. The Estonians suffered profoundly at the hands of the Red Army who tortured, raped, and executed across the country. The suffering of the Estonian population is described in historical accounts of the guerrilla struggle conducted by the “forest brothers.”13 Besides the arbitrary terror inf licted by the army, the Soviet government engaged in efforts to erase what memories of the prewar institutions remained. Economically, the collectivization of agriculture, undertaken on a large scale at the end of the 1940s, as well as heavy industrialization, effectively put an end to the former patterns of small-scale farming and cooperative organization so dominant and significant during Estonian independence. Politically, the basic democratic institutions, free and fair elections, a multiparty system, and political rights were never reinstalled as had been planned by Konstantin Päts. Rather, they were replaced with a harsh dictatorship with Communist roots, strongly detested by Estonians. Estonian literature, plays, textbooks etc. were replaced by “Soviet” or Russian ones. The right of association and the prosperous and voluntary associational life that had f lourished during independence and, to some extent, also during the “silent years” of the Päts regime succumbed in a climate of prohibition, fear, and hopelessness. Only de facto mandatory organizations such as Komsomol and the Pioneers, youth organizations that intimately linked spare time activities with socialization through the schools, were allowed and came to play a crucial role in the Party’s ideological efforts.14 Regarding the Stalinist


87

era, which lasted until 1953, Misiunas and Taagepera conclude “all the gains of the period of independence had been undone—political, cultural and even economic.”15 The first years after the end of World War II also saw a tenacious guerrilla struggle against the Soviet occupiers led by the so-called forest brothers, operating from the woods of Estonia as well as the other Baltic States. Resistance began to fade at the beginning of the 1950s, when fatigue, combined with national isolation, contributed to a gradual cessation of the struggle. International support was almost entirely lacking at a time when the harsh conditions demanded that it contribute. The Years after Stalin The years between Stalin’s death and the end of the 1960s witnessed a certain revival of Estonia’s indigenous culture and autonomy.16 Ten years after the occupation, the possibility of contact was granted to those who had, so far, been left in the dark concerning the fate of close relatives and friends who had f led to the West. This put Estonians back in touch with the world, albeit on a small scale. The isolation from the outside world during the Stalin years seems to have produced profound ignorance of foreign conditions amongst the Soviet inhabitants.17 Furthermore, the “thaw” after Stalin’s death fueled rising expectations of greater national autonomy and greater opportunities for criticism of the Soviet regime and the Communist Party—within clearly defined limits, as always. Estonia as a country close to the West followed also closely the events in Hungary and Poland in 1956, and became inspired by them.18 On the political level, the proportion of native politicians and administrators in state positions grew, as did the number of indigenous members of the Communist Party, although Estonians were still underrepresented in the power structure.19 Even though Estonians did join the Communist Party, it would seem they did so mainly as a way of advancing their careers. When compared to many other Soviet republics, the indigenous Estonian population was always under-represented amongst the Communist cadres.20 This hardly comes as a surprise, since Estonia must have been one of the countries most ill suited to Communist ideals due to the reforms, previously described, which transformed the country into one dominated by landed peasants. Public skepticism toward Communist ideology remained widespread during the decades of occupation. But most importantly, the “thaw” brought with it an end to terror as a coercive tool.21 This abandoning of the Stalin regime’s campaign of

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arbitrary terror was an immense relief for the entire Soviet Union, not least the “rebellious” Baltic States. Nevertheless, Estonia continued to be a heavily controlled society where, in particular, the system of informers gave rise to an atmosphere of general caution and suspicion that continues to be an obstacle to democracy in the Estonia of today, since it effectively ruined the social trust obtained during the interwar years. As Inkeles points out, creating feelings of anxiety and insecurity is the essence of the authoritarian “mystique.” He explains further, “The regime seeks to create in every man the nagging fear that he may have done something wrong, that he may have left something undone, that he may have said some impermissible thing.”22 At the heart of insecurity lies a sense of unpredictability, and this feeling predominated during the first years of terror, and continued to inf luence the minds and behavior of people for decades to come. However, from 1960 onward, it was clear that Estonian culture— literature, drama, poetry—was resurfacing, and a number of young artists appeared on the cultural scene. Among them was the writer Jaan Kross, born in 1920 and making his literary debut at the age of thirtyeight. He eventually became an internationally famous writer. During the Stalin years, prose had been of a very simplified hero and villain type, often absurdly glorifying the Soviet lifestyle or the Russians.23 Now, literature as well as the visual arts became complex and realistic once again.24 During these years Estonia and the other Baltic republics slowly but surely developed into a region of the artistic avant-garde, even though each step to liberation was taken only after a hard and intensive struggle. How did the school, always a crucial socializing institution, develop during these first decades of occupation? Education focused on theoretical work, but it was also mandatory for the students to do manual work in the factories once a week, or to perform manual labor of some other kind. The most controversial issue, related to the sensitive issue of nationalism, was the question of language training and bilingual learning. The all-Union school laws formally allowed parents to decide which languages their children should be taught. “The realities of Soviet life, however, put pressure on the Balts to become bilingual, while no such pressure was put on Russian residents in the Baltic republics.”25 Once again, it is clear that these policies were concerned primarily with the promotion of Russian interests, rather than born out of any clear-cut Marxist convictions. Since the national language was powerfully symbolic as the foremost preserver of national identity, the Soviet central committee and the Party wanted to promote Russian.


89

But indigenous Baltic rulers resisted energetically. In the neighboring republic of Latvia an attempt was actually made to make Latvian an obligatory language in Russian schools—an attempt which failed, however. Chapter two revealed the prominent role that education played in interwar Estonia, and the high esteem attached to being educated. The nation also developed into one of the most highly educated in the world. During the period of Soviet rule, education expanded into new fields. Primarily, however, education and research was subjected to ideological control and integrated into a wider ideological framework controlled by the Party. In a volume published in 1965 dealing with the neighboring Lithuania under Soviet occupation, the changes that took place under the Soviet regime are described in some detail. All private schools—and during independence all three Baltic republics had a large number of primary and secondary schools run by private associations—were abolished and only state schools functioned. The curricula included subjects supporting the regime and all textbooks were changed. Doubtless, the school system was used to inculcate positive attitudes toward Communism and particularly toward Russia and Russian culture as a leading force within the Soviet Union. However, what is much more doubtful is the extent to which this particular indoctrination was successful, and with what degree of commitment it was actually carried out.26 Statements like “all the peoples of the Soviet Union are helped by the great Russian people” or “Lenin has shown us the road to freedom and happiness,” taken from textbooks with obviously propagandistic overtones, are hardly sophisticated and ref lective, and may thus serve as “inverted” slogans than as actual points of reference. Cultural Expansion and Growing Westernization During the 1960s a significant opening up occurred in the field of foreign contacts. After being shut off from the world for nearly two decades, the Baltic republics’ external contacts rose steadily throughout this time. For the Estonians in Estonia this meant both extended contacts with relatives who could now visit their native country occasionally,27 and a few—albeit limited—opportunities to travel abroad. Increasing interaction with the Estonians living in exile, the visits, and the economic support provided by the more wealthy relatives in the West all came to play an ever more significant role in the economic

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life of the republic. What it meant economically to have relatives abroad could hardly be overestimated; often it meant the difference between relative wealth and relative poverty. Furthermore, the exile communities contributed to a successive enforcement of Estonian culture, values, and customs, since the heritage from the first republic was deeply cherished and protected. In schools, the media, and kindergarten, the time of independence was commemorated in yearly celebrations. In particular, the Estonian group in Toronto preserved the Estonian legacy in a most deliberate and efficient way.28 The role played by the groups in exile who preserved the “community of memories”29 that helped to protect the Estonian nationality and identity has been an important one, the effects of which are still not completely clear. In retrospect, it is possible to conclude, rather paradoxically, that Estonian culture, together with the Estonian language as the major bearer of this culture, were strengthened during the Soviet period in comparison to their fragility before independence in 1920. Despite recurrent attempts to promote Russian, the Estonian language remained the dominant language in Soviet Estonia.30 Attempts to ascribe a favored position to Russian culture and literature also failed, as did attempts to construct an artificial all-Union identity and culture with Russian as a common denominator. In 1968, the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia. This event marked the end of the period of “thaw” between the Soviet government and Estonia. While the 1960s had witnessed a growing détente between the central powers in Moscow and the Estonian republic, as manifested in successive steps toward cultural, social, and even economic liberation, 1968 marked the end of the Estonian willingness to cooperate. “For a number of dissidents, 1968 was the point at which they were forced out of the system and into open opposition. This was true of the future Estonian Congress leader Tunne Kelam who, as a lecturer in International Regulations, had tried to tell the truth within the Soviet academic framework.”31 The third phase covers the period between 1968 and 1980. Although centralization of politics and economics was reinstated, the seed planted during the 1960s was growing and transforming the society from the inside. The Westernization of culture and the opening up to the West via personal contacts and media exposure could not be stopped. Estonia, with its linguistic links to Finland, was able to have more exposure to Western lifestyles and opinions. During the 1970s, growing numbers of Estonians traveled abroad on holidays, although it still proved both difficult and expensive to acquire a visa for foreign travel. In this way,


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economic, political, and cultural inf luences from outside the Soviet Empire became more frequent, stimulating Soviet Estonian society. It was particularly significant that a growing stream of Estonians living in exile returned to their native country in order to visit relatives and friends. Contact with the West also took other forms. Western culture became more and more accessible throughout this decade, inf luencing not only the youth but also the culture of the entire society. Once again the Baltic States, and particularly Estonia, were in the forefront of this development, far ahead of the rest of the USSR. Finnish TV, as well as the appearance, in translation, of increasing numbers of Western books, screenplays, and films, contributed to a growing familiarity with Western culture. According to Misiunas and Taagepera, the effect was striking. “In the absence of Stalinist methods of persuasion, Russian culture was clearly losing out to what the West had to offer.”32 Consumerism and a preoccupation with material matters characterized public reactions during the 1970s, as per capita income rose and contacts with the West deepened. The possibilities for private economic transactions increased even further, and were now within the realms of the “white” economy rather than the ever-blossoming black economy. Particularly in the urban areas, and in the shape of legal consumer goods markets, this economic development “was accompanied by greater freedom of association and of private conversation (and criticism).”33 Youth cultures and lifestyles, such as music, clothes, and hair-dos, spread to the Baltic republics, particularly to Estonia, and made their mark. However, by the end of the 1970s, economic growth began to decline and, on the cultural level, the Soviet authorities once again launched a Russification campaign. This time they focused especially on the superiority of the Russian language, and the way in which the Russian language united the Soviet peoples and was the ultimate bearer of culture. The 1970s meant that a generation had matured that had no experience of either independence or the terrors of deportations and arbitrary rule under Stalin. They were less obedient, but also less aware of the historical importance of Estonian independence and interwar democracy. Generally, however—a process that appears to have continued since the 1960s—people were less controlled, “less afraid than before to talk, to ask questions and, in some cases, to dissent openly. In this sense, time was working against Soviet efforts to maintain a tight police state.”34 Finally, in the 1980s, the government could no longer control

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development, as economic stagnation created vast disappointment and growing demands for reforms and changes. How should the Soviet period in Estonia be summed up? The answer varies considerably, depending on the time period we are talking about. As the brief overview shows, the Soviet period in Estonia, which all in all lasted for almost fifty years, was far from a uniform period, even if popular references to “Soviet times” as something static, inert, and universal tend to create such an impression. On the contrary, it is definitely correct to refer to distinctive phases within these five decades. Successive development of aspects of the economy and a liberalization and nationalization of the cultural sphere, as well as improvements in social security all admittedly occurred over the years. It would have proven too costly to uphold the severity and brutality of the regime’s first years. Consequently the extremely harsh and brutal era ranging from the end of the war in 1945 until the death of Stalin in 1953 was followed by a calmer period between 1954 and 1968, when national culture was allowed to reemerge and the most direct and overt suppression came to an end. A third phase, characterized by a rapidly growing Westernization accompanied by parallel attempts to increase centralization and Russification, occurred between 1968 and 1980. Finally, stagnation followed by a successive process of liberation signified the fourth era, extending from the 1980s until the period of the definite breakdown and simultaneous independence at the beginning of the 1990s. Soviet Estonia differed from the other Soviet republics in more than one respect. It was the most urbanized (70 percent) republic,35 with the lowest rate of natural increase, the lowest rate of marriage, and the highest rate of divorce. The high degree of urbanization can be compared to the overwhelmingly agrarian character of Estonia just a few decades back. It also demonstrated a high rate of industrialization, primarily light industry employing skilled or semiskilled workers, and it was the most Westernized republic in the whole Soviet Union.36 Several reasons could be presented to explain the significant extent of its Western orientation, but the closeness—geographically and linguistically— to Finland and the large settlements of Estonian refugees outside Estonia are both crucial. The impact of the exile communities on the development of life inside Soviet Estonia is hard to estimate, but it definitely made an impact in fields such as culture, economics, and politics. The exile communities also contributed to increasing the standards of living in the Estonian republic through the inf low of gifts and money. Estonia is also unique among the Baltic States in that the major group of its exile community settled so close by, in neighboring Sweden


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while, for example, the Latvian and Lithuanian exile communities were located at greater distances, primarily in Germany, the United States of America, Canada, and Australia. According to Parming and Järvesoo, other expressions of Estonian Westernization from the interwar years were a “pragmatic attitude” to politics, and a cultural rather than a political nationalism. In other words, the description of a nonmobilized nationalism as a significant aspect of the Estonian character is further supported, together with the impression of a fairly apolitical society. To think of Estonia, the most advanced of the Soviet republics, as simply a country characterized by backwardness, with a totalitarian legacy, is far from correct. Rather, the high degree of urbanization, the high level of education, and the gradually increasing interplay with Western culture and values all implied a social environment that sometimes, and to a growing extent, resembled the West. Except for the first decade of utterly brutal terror, when deportations, extreme unpredictability, and arbitrariness made life in Soviet Estonia extremely difficult and for many a sheer living hell, the successively more stable Soviet Estonia appears to have been a society where governance and the activities of those in power were once again rather alienated from the ordinary citizens. Government did not concern the average citizen. Although a small group of intellectuals and artists protested vehemently about the lack of political freedom, more outspokenly from 1968 and the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, and the limits on cultural expression, at the same time private daily life was lived at a distance from political power. The fact that standards of living were dramatically different from those in the West was perhaps the most striking injustice on an everyday basis for the ordinary Estonian. Citizenship Let me now turn to some empirical data by once again investigating the values relating to democratic virtues and community commitment for the interwar generation but this time include also the “home” Estonians. These values are measured in 1998 when independence had been in place for seven years and thus could ref lect to some extent the institutional changes from Communism to post-Communism as well as a Communist impact or the endurance of early socialization. While the specific values of how to be a good citizen are all highly praised as core values in liberal democracies, they have a much more uncertain status—with the exception of rule-following at the official

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level—in authoritarian states. To repeat, the dimensions are (a) how important it is to be active as a citizen, (b) how important it is for citizens to follow rules and legislation, and (c) how important it is that citizens form autonomous opinions (see table 5.1).37 Among the civic virtues, activity receives the comparatively lowest score, while rule-following and autonomy are evaluated more highly. To be active as a citizen, for example, in voluntary associations, has not been a prominent part of the post-Communist experience neither in Estonia nor anywhere else.38 The often more or less compulsory participation in associations related to the Communist party during the Soviet period has been claimed to have resulted in an “organization fatigue” once the huge mobilization of the Singing Revolution had reached its goals. The lack of organizational activity is, however, a stark contrast to the vital civil society in interwar Estonia. The perception of personal autonomy as a citizen virtue, which indicates that opinions should be formed independently, seems to contradict Communism with its belief in itself as the only right route to happiness. The comparatively far-reaching Westernization of Estonia that took place during the 1970s and 1980s may have brought with it certain liberal democratic impulses and ideas that continued to dilute the impact of Communist ideology. Fifty years of Soviet rule seems to have had a limited effect on how the Estonians view their obligations as citizens. This could indicate that the formative experience of living under the first republic exercised enough inf luence to vaccinate citizens against the possible disillusions of authoritarianism. Does the interwar generation differ from the average Estonians in the sense of putting a stronger emphasis on autonomy? It has been pointed out in studies made approximately at the same time as this one that even if the political culture of post-Communist Estonia show traits of strong individualism, it is in the form of self-enhancement (competitiveness, achievement) rather than self-transcendence (pleasure and openness). Lauristin and Vihalemm draw the conclusion that such competitive Table 5.1 Citizenship (how important are different political virtues [means on a scale where 0 “minimum importance” to 100 “maximum importance”] ) Group:

Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

Importance of activity

64 62 67

Importance of rule-following

86 88 92

Importance of personal autonomy 80 88 85


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individualism “is more closely linked to the recognition of hierarchies and dependence on others (i.e., it is not in complete opposition to a collectivist world-view).”39 Therefore, such a worldview could to some extent be related to Estonia’s Communist past. The competitive individualism with its focus on achievement is, however, something that we recognize already from the Estonian interwar period. When it comes to general post-Communist culture in Estonia it can furthermore be noted that Estonians in general at the mid-1990s showed a comparatively high interest in politics, even though it had declined from the peak years of transition in 1989–90.40 Individual Achievement versus Egalitarianism One of the most distinctive characteristics of the Soviet regime was not its Marxist ideology that, in any event, did not markedly impact on the actual organization of society, but the official distortions of historical events, the Communist rhetoric that accompanied actions and events, and the double standards that prevailed, not least in economic life. “Double-think and double-behaviour was widespread because of the occupation and because of the strong ties to pre-World War II society and to the Western world at large.”41 Generally, it is these more subtle signals of a system, the informal punishments and rewards, that shape behavior. The Soviet system definitely made use of a vivid and almost fanatical rhetoric, a rhetoric that involved the superiority of MarxistLeninist ideology, the privileged position of the Russian nation and the friendship of all nations under Russian leadership. Furthermore, the negative rhetoric was directed toward the decadence of capitalism and Western values and lifestyles. However, the rhetoric was highly infantile and played a symbolic role rather than aiming at convincing anyone. Secondly, and most importantly, the informal signals emanating from the system spoke another language. Economically, a private, informal economy based on individual initiative and exchange was tolerated and even prospered.42 The “blat” system was the actual economic organization that many citizens experienced in their daily lives. The private economy relied on individual initiative, in the sense of having the capacity to entertain the necessary network resources, for example, having contacts, family, and friends in the right places. But hard work, education, and other formal merits in themselves were not sufficient enough to successfully manage in the system.

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It has already been mentioned that the Soviet system was far from a classless society and that social stratification structured social life and relations, as it does everywhere else. In an early study, Inkeles pointed out the similarities between Soviet society and other Western countries regarding the status attributed to various occupations.43 The political or official class, the rulers, definitely enjoyed special incentives and economic privileges. However, tendencies toward social mobilization also existed. Not infrequently, working-class children moved upward socially to join the political class. The middle-class workers followed a similar path, and in the process tried to disengage themselves from their original social roots—a middle-class culture partly drawing on the traditions of the prerevolutionary educated classes. Again, the rise of a middle class of social climbers with privileges and positions is hardly in accordance with official Marxist rhetoric (nor was the private economy), but these double standards are now a recurrent theme in the story of Soviet society. At the same time they are an indication of just how little weight was given to officially declared objectives. Soviet Estonian society was not static; opportunities for improving one’s position and for “middle class” life did exist, even if they were restricted. Thus, the possibility of Western inf luences and the tolerance for consumption as a lifestyle (definitely comparable to the capitalist mode of production) gradually increased, accompanied all the while by the official rhetoric that praised a planned economy. To extrapolate, Communism as an ideology was a powerful rhetoric that did not, however, give rise to an economy of solidarity. On the other hand, Russification, regarded by many to be the major objective of the central Soviet government, was visible to Estonian citizens on a daily basis—in schools, in the number of Russians moving to Tallinn and the northeastern parts of Estonia, and in the extent to which Russian was spoken in shops, in the streets, and in official contacts. While equality sometimes is interpreted as the liberal perception of equal opportunity, egalitarianism is a more far-reaching idea of leveling out differences in life conditions. Often associated with the notion of equal results, in contrast to a belief in the merit of individual achievement, egalitarianism has been pronounced in socialist and also in socialdemocratic societies. The “home” Estonians are more positive about rewarding efficiency and personal achievement than respondents in the other two groups, in spite of the lengthy exposure to an officially egalitarian regime (see figure 5.1). Even though the Soviet system placed some weight on

Did Civic Commitment Survive Communism? Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

97 88 83 82

Figure 5.1 Proportion of Estonian interwar respondents believing that efficiency and personal achievement should be economically rewarded at work.

promoting good workers, the result still should come as a surprise. One of the major institutional features of the Soviet society has resulted in minor, if any, differences in perceptions toward the value of individual achievement among the interwar generation. To complicate things, the Estonian political culture has, however, been claimed to have shifted from a primarily collectivist inclination during the Communist time as a result of dependence on informal networks and of generations living close together to post-Communist individualism. Estonian students have, for example, been found to be more individualistic than American ones.44 Thus, should the achievement orientation that we find be understood as an effect of post- Communism or as enduring socialization effects? We cannot rule out that the institutional changes in Estonia inf luenced the perceptions of the interwar generation in a more individualist direction. But what we can say for certain is that in that case it was a return to already familiar, and once socialized, values. Earlier studies on political culture in post-Communist Estonia have shown that even if the idea of equality generally enjoyed little support in the Estonian society, the first post-Communist years witnessed a more positive evaluation grow. Equality lost its political overtones and came to be understood in economic terms.45 However, and this is interesting, it is still equality interpreted in the interwar sense of equal opportunities and not egalitarianism that seems to be the dominating perception:46 “It means that everyone is entitled to equal opportunities to choose from. At first, options are equal to everyone, but later everything will depend on one’s individuality” as a female economist formulates it.47 A culturalist-inclined interpretation that the generation as a whole would value individual achievement very highly because of a formative socialization that strongly cherished individualism is supported here.48 However, the question on the principles on which economic reward should be based focuses on a particular aspect of individualism, namely achievement. If forced to choose between equality and personal freedom as principal values in themselves, other results could occur.

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Political Culture under Institutional Pressure Trust and Tolerance

The strength of the economic and social forces in action during the processes of modernization that the Soviet Union went through have, according to these empirical results, contributed to closing the gap between the different political realities of the West and the former Communist countries. This should lead us to expect that a certain extent of democratic attitudes prevailed in Estonia, which as we have seen was one of the most Westernized, industrialized, and modern parts of the Soviet Union, not only as carried over by the interwar generation but as initially formed under Communism. However, at least two central factors in a civic culture, tolerance and social trust, have constantly been reported to be at low levels49 in the post-Soviet context, including that seen in Estonia.50 Low levels of interpersonal trust, present in many of the post-Communist states, can rather easily be explained as a consequence of the system of spying and reporting on friends, neighbors, and colleagues introduced by the regime. You were dependent on others, not least through the pervasive system of “blat,” but could at the same time not fully trust anybody outside the family. Furthermore, the double standards that permeated the whole system, with official Communist Party rhetoric often standing in direct contradiction to informal institutions and behavior, did not enhance the general “pool” of trust and confidence within society. But the f lourishing communalism under the first republic and the widespread community activities that the interwar generation constantly indicates existed then should have shaped this generation into “trusters” rather than distrusters. As to tolerance, cultural tolerance and minority rights were part of the liberal perception of equality and individuality as guiding stars under Estonia’s first independence. The fear of Communism may have inf luenced political tolerance negatively. As figure 5.2 shows, within the categories of “people close to you” and “inhabitants in the country of residence,” the difference in response between the home Estonians and Swedish- and Canadian-Estonians is not large. One exception is the difference between the home Estonians and the Canadian-Estonians as regard trusting people close to you: the mean for the Estonians is ten units lower. However, a strong correlation is shown for the dimension of trusting people in general, which is the measure most frequently used in political science for determining levels of interpersonal trust. The home Estonians show considerably lower levels of generalized trust than do the exiles, a figure that is also statistically significant. The interwar


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To what extent do you trust: People close-by Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

People in general Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

People in country of residence Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

Figure 5.2

82 85

40 60

92

69

58 62 55

Trust (means on a scale from 0 [minimum trust] to 100 [maximum trust] ).

home Estonians’ comparatively low interpersonal trust falls into a post-Communist value pattern observed by, for example, Rose.51 The experiences of living in a society where double-mindedness in everyday life was required to survive, and where the systematic information and espionage even on close relatives and friends formed the backbone of popular surveillance, have both been blamed for generating such suspicious attitudes. Still, whatever the reasons here, we can conclude that the Estonians’ civic commitment was affected by their Soviet-time experiences. Along with trust, political tolerance is a civic value assigned an exceptional position in discussions on political culture and democracy. The tolerance dimension is based on a single question, namely how the respondents react to the idea of guaranteeing freedom of speech to extremist groups. The WVS also uses this question as the measure of political tolerance (see table 5.2). A clear correlation appears. The home Estonians are overrepresented among those who think that political extremists should, at least most of the time, be deprived of the right to speak and meet. A majority of the home Estonians (52 percent) take this restrictive position, while the opposite is true for the Swedish- and Canadian-Estonians. A clear majority of both the Swedish-Estonians (75 percent) and the Canadian-Estonians (87 percent) adopt a liberal attitude toward political extremists. To sum up, the general impression is that low levels of tolerance predominate amongst the Estonians, in contrast to high levels of

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Table 5.2 Tolerance (distribution in percentages of the respondents in the different groups, in four different categories). Should extremist movements be deprived of the right to freedom of speech and association? Group:

Yes

Most of the time

Usually not

Under no circumstances

Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

13 9 5

39 16 8

34 54 37

13 21 50

tolerance for the Diaspora. Again, we can see that the institutional context during adulthood, that is, Communist rule versus pluralist democracies, has played a decisive role in reshaping the perceptions of the Estonian men and women of the interwar generation in a less civic direction.

Interpersonal Responsibility The following values are concerned with interpersonal engagement. Earlier, interpersonal trust was discussed as one of the crucial aspects of a civic culture. However, there are other important orientations regarding one’s relation to other people that shape the worldview of an individual. Two of these are solidarity, in other words feeling involved in society and in what happens to others, and the extent to which orientations of “blaming the victim” for stressed life conditions dominate mentalities. In the case where, for example, poverty is primarily regarded as the outcome of individual shortcomings, the emotional involvement from others in society in each other’s fate becomes less mandatory. Such a view of the roots of individual differences in life conditions are closely coupled with the notion that “everybody has to look out for themselves.” Basically, the two values explored here touch upon the extent to which feelings of interpersonal responsibility predominate in society and among the subgroups. The questions under this heading revolve around, firstly, whether the respondent, as a witness, would report two different types of crime, shoplifting and assault (see figure 5.3). Secondly, the respondent is asked to identify the reasons he believes to be responsible for the poverty of certain individuals in his country of residence. Are the poor basically to blame (idleness and lack of planning) or are “external” circumstances,


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Shoplifting Est. Swed-Est. Can-Est.

96 57 74

Assault 80 81

Est. Swed-Est. Can-Est.

93

Figure 5.3 If you were witness to a crime? (proportion of who would report it to the shop or to the police).

such as modernity, “development,” or other circumstances out of the individual’s control more likely to be the cause of their poverty? Figure 5.3 reports that the home Estonians are distinctly more inclined to report shoplifting than are the exiles. If they witnessed an act of shoplifting, an overwhelming majority of the Estonians state that they would report it either to the shop or to the police. Concerning assault, the discrepancy between the groups’ decreases and the home Estonians are no longer most inclined to report the crime. The Canadian-Estonians deviate, choosing more clearly to report assault to the police—which again may be related to a greater system confidence, as has been clearly spelled out in chapter four. It is not much use reporting a crime if nothing is expected to come of it. On the other hand, it is difficult to explain the home Estonians’ “shoplifting” report rate by referring to system confidence, since generally system confidence tends to be at quite low levels. In accordance with a resocialization prediction, the groups perceive the primary reason for poverty differently, and the greatest divide runs between the Canadian-Estonians and home Estonians, with the Swedish-Estonians approaching the responses of the home Estonians. The Canadian-Estonians consider that the individual is more to blame than the Swedish-Estonians. The home Estonians are a little less inclined to do so. The differences remain after having controlled for other factors, but are then no longer statistically significant. Political Efficacy For an ordinary citizen, the Soviet bureaucracy was the face of the state. The state administration under Soviet rule was a powerful institution. This is hardly surprising, since most of the functions of social security,

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welfare education, and health care were administrated solely by the state, and not by private entrepreneurs or organizations of civil society. As in tsarist times and under independence, corruption and other malpractices f lourished in the Communist societies.52 Bribes, mostly in the form of goods rather than money, were constantly given by citizens and accepted by officials as a lubricant to make things happen more quickly, or happen at all, which is documented in contemporary documents as well as memoirs of the time.53 Thus, for many citizens of Soviet Estonia, interaction with junior officials and grassroots bureaucrats was a daily and time-consuming activity where, in the process of acquiring services, permits, or goods, they met an inefficient and unreliable state apparatus at work. In descriptions emanating from other parts of Communist Eastern Europe, the attitudes and behavior of officials have been depicted in fairly negative terms. A recurrent observation is the constant display of power that took place in most relations between state representatives and ordinary citizens. Many officials held what could be called “gatekeeping” positions, and could take pleasure in making it difficult, if not impossible, to pass them in order to reach higher levels in the system. Since malpractice did not lead to punishment, the incentives for doing a proper job were low. As a Czech respondent exclaims, “Arrogance and unhelpfulness prevailed before 1989 (and) one felt like a troublemaker rather than an applicant.” Another explains that “before 1989 people had to be satisfied with practically any decision made by the officials. No one could rely on an appeal to a higher authority because such a thing only led to further problems.”54 In a sense, dealings with the bureaucracy also relied on exchange and barter; the service asked had to be additionally paid for by a gift, a promise of future help, or something similar. The sense of powerlessness that such a state apparatus generates among the “ordinary” citizens may well lead to more general feelings of resignation. Therefore, the home Estonians were also asked questions about their sense of political efficacy. This value is concerned with the perception that the respondents have of their own power to inf luence political decision-making, particularly by participating in general elections. Est. Swedish-Est. Canadian-Est.

32 46 75

Figure 5.4 General efficacy (means on a scale from 0 [minimum inf luence] to 100 [maximum inf luence] ).


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Clear differences between the home Estonians and the Swedish- and Canadian-Estonians once again emerge (see figure 5.4). Home Estonians perceive their own power to inf luence politics, particularly through general elections, to be considerably less compared to the SwedishEstonians and the Canadian-Estonians, even though they were interviewed seven years after democracy had been reinstated. The differences are slightly reduced when controlled for,55 but are still statistically significant.

“Soviet Estonian” Mentality For several decades, Soviet Estonia was the institutional “environment” for many Estonians of the interwar generation. The oldest in the generation investigated in this book was thirty years old when the war ended in 1945, while the youngest was twenty. Without a doubt, the period of Soviet rule is a telling example of profound institutional changes being made on many levels of Estonian society, changes that affected both public and private life. In some respects the rupture may not have been as absolute as is sometimes assumed. A tradition of stateled economic development existed in independent Estonia, and the Soviet social welfare system resembled in some instances the one practiced during independence. But the main conclusion can be no other than that life changed profoundly for most Estonians once the Soviet regime had been firmly established in the 1940s. What political culture could be expected to have developed in the Soviet Union, and in particular in Estonia, in the generations socialized within the system? Surprising to some, but pinpointing the theoretical standpoint of others, most of the recent research regarding Soviet political culture—with a certain focus on the prospects for a democratic Russian development—conducted after the breakdown of the Soviet Union and appearing during the 1990s, supports a modernization interpretation of political development.56 The modernization school claims that rising levels of education, combined with heavy industrialization and urbanization, fostered a political culture in the Soviet Union characterized by orientations regarding the desirability of popular influence, resembling those in the West to a greater extent than was expected. Theoretical support for free elections, multiparty competition, and political freedoms spread these attitudes among the more highly educated.57 There is, for example, little indication of any alleged

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“Russian authoritarianism.” Surveys have found little support for the idea that Russian political culture is deterministically inf luenced by authoritarian traditions. Furthermore, the claim that these pro-democratic attitudes are merely superficial, and not what has here been referred to as more profound orientations, is also refuted by the work of, among others, James Gibson. He concludes, through the use of panel data, that the support for democratic institutions was rather widespread in 1992, and was also stable over time. These values were not inf luenced by economic “evaluations” and were also ref lected in political behavior and action.58 In the debate on the effects of the Soviet occupation it has been claimed that differences in worldview between Estonians in Soviet Estonia and those living in exile continued to grow during the many years of occupation.59 However, it is equally common to encounter in the literature the conclusion that the Soviet experience never managed to conquer the Estonian mentality, since the legacy from both the interwar time and the Estonian nationalist feelings provided a shield for the individuals behind whom they could hide themselves from the inf luence exercised by the occupation power. Nearly fifty years of Soviet rule, Soviet institutions and the whole of Soviet society have not been able to lessen the impact of the culture of this unique period on those who grew up and were socialized during the years of independence. Via a transmission process in which this generation supposedly played a key role, a national heritage survived not only life in exile but also Soviet rule. This process involved the creation of a “collective memory” that carried democratic and civic values across the decades. Although these different pictures may be the expression of real controversy, they may also partly be explained if we introduce a division between the believed impact of Soviet rule on the one hand and the impact of Communist ideology on the other. As we have now seen, official ideology and actual practice were not always one and the same in the Soviet period. Life in Soviet Estonia, as in other Soviet republics, was characterized by these double standards when it came to economic activities and the stratification of society. In schools, in the compulsory organizations, in workplaces, and within the trade-unions, the Marxist ideology of the Communist party was preached. But life was, as we have seen, formed by so many other inf luences—the informal institutions of the barter economy and the blat system, the widespread system of informing on neighbors, friends, and colleagues, the importance of right social contacts, and the continual hunt for consumer goods.60 All of this


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is part of the Communist, and Soviet, system as it developed but not necessarily of a Communist legacy, in the ideological sense of the word. Definitely, what we have before us is a home Estonian generation that was affected by Soviet experiences but not necessarily by Communist ideology while simultaneously carrying on prewar political cultural legacies. In the next and concluding chapter I return to the question of how to interpret the results regarding civic commitment among the home Estonians in the light of the theories about Sovietization and early socialization.


CH A P T E R

SI X


Introduction The speed at which social changes occur is largely dependent on whether a change in mentalities takes place primarily within generations according to patterns determined by class, ethnicity, or gender, or whether entire generations are the prime bearers of cultural change. The prospects for political stability in new democracies, as well as the prospects for moving from a non-civic to a civic culture are likewise deeply affected by the logic according to which individual cultural change proceeds. These are only some reasons why the relation between early socialization and later institutional changes is of such great importance. That institutions do affect culture in a generational perspective is hardly contested, but that says very little about the scope for individual change and tenacity, which is the major theoretical line of division. This book has taken on the theoretical question of how early and socialized culture interacts with institutional change on the individual level. Empirically this was made possible by investigating how political culture has developed among a generation who grew up under similar circumstances, but in early adulthood involuntarily split and lived their adult lives in different institutional contexts: democratic and authoritarian, liberal and social-democratic, and finally post-Communist. The quite small Estonian community, which grew up under the historically formative years in the 1920s and 1930s but since 1944 have lived either in exile in Canada and Sweden or remained in the occupied Estonia until its liberation in 1991 and afterward experienced post-Communism, has

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served as my empirical case. We have found that even under strong institutional pressure, culture acquired early in life continues to exercise inf luence over the individuals. Not completely, and not without being modified, but to such an extent that rationalist expectations of complete adaptation can be refuted. In this final chapter I return to some of the major conclusions from the previous chapters. It is also time to address the question of how to theoretically make sense of the patterns we find. Citizens at Heart: The Contrast between the Exile Communities There is a major division in civicness between those Estonians who escaped to a life in either Canada or Sweden, even though this interwar generation spent their most formative years in a historically unique period in Estonia. Are there any possible differences between the Canadian and the Swedish political systems and the way democracy works that could give rise to such a surprisingly large deviance? The two countries have differed politically and institutionally in at least two significant ways. Firstly, different from the Canadian system, the Swedish welfare state was constructed according to a dominant idea of universalism and inclusion. Secondly Canada, in contrast to Sweden, early on formulated an official policy of multiculturalism in which identity and recognition held a strong position. It is possible that the politics of multiculturalism in Canada could have helped create sentiments of diffuse support for the system as such in an immigrant community such as the Estonian one. This policy signaled a desire to respect and to appreciate the many Canadian immigrants and, as such, could possibly have given rise to a circle of mutual confidence. But the policies were not initiated until the early 1970s, and furthermore the differences are not after all that great between Canada and Sweden. Events in Sweden of 1945–46, when Baltic militaries were shipped back to an unknown fate in the Soviet Union in response to a request by the Soviet authorities,1 naturally had a profound effect on the Estonians’ confidence in the Swedish government at that time. In particular, doubts arose about Sweden’s ability to resist Soviet demands in general. What would be the next step? Soviet authorities demanded the forced return of all Soviet citizens in refuge, and were allowed inside the Swedish refugee camps. Many chose to leave Sweden2 and moved, for example, to Canada. “Among many of the older people, there is still

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a great bitterness, a distance towards the Swedish society and a feeling of double moral standards.”3 Thus, many of the Swedish-Estonians strongly resented the 1945 decision. Furthermore, the Estonian exiles were aware that both the Swedish authorities and Swedes in general had long felt that the Estonians should either “go home” once Germany had been defeated or assimilate completely into Swedish society.4 But even though the attitudes and behavior of the Swedish government created fear and anger among the Estonian refugees at the time, these events took place a long time ago. It is highly unlikely that such reactions could have laid the ground for systematic system disapproval over fifty years later. We cannot completely ignore the differences in policies and legacies between Canada and Sweden, but they do not provide a theoretically convincing answer. Let us instead consider the possible interpretations assuming that early socialization may play a part here. Is tenacity the only way that “culture,” in the sense of formative socialization in the earlier stages of life, could affect individual response to a changing institutional environment? An alternative interpretation of how the seminal inf luence of early socialization could manifest itself, which was introduced already in chapter one, concentrates on the degree of correspondence (or distance) that the individual perceives between the early, socialized culture and the new institutional context that she/he is later confronted with. If such a correspondence is perceived as high, cultural responses lean toward system support, since feelings of recognition and familiarity foster approval and a sense of security. If correspondence, however, is sensed as low, the cultural response instead is one of dissociation and sometimes even alienation. The individual does not feel “at home” culturally, and these feelings give birth to insecurity. If cultural discontinuity dominates, the individual can even adhere to strategies of retreatism. “Retreatism involves withdrawing from the ‘alien’ larger society into the smaller, more familiar worlds of family, neighborhood, village, and the like,” writes Eckstein.5 These responses are at least partly caused by early socialization and the confrontation of a mental legacy with new formal and informal institutions. In other words, how well the old and the new match each other can be an independent mechanism whereby early socialization could play a distinct part, even though the specific political cultural response is not tenacity. In Eckstein’s works, the importance of particularly cultural consonance for understanding democratic stability frequently recurs. An individual, or for that matter a culture, cannot without great strain harbor too much mental dissonance, claims Eckstein. Therefore, the once socialized

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perceptions tend to act as a filter for impressions and information that confronts the individual later in life. This filter “interprets” incoming information, not allowing for too much divergence or dissonance to occur.6 Now, levels of consonance and dissonance may not only be used to characterize a particular political culture, but are also promising concepts in trying to understand what happens on the individual level in the meeting between two political cultures, for example, in a situation of emigration. Besides resocialization and tenacity, cultural responses emanating from the level of perceived cultural correspondence between the socialized culture and the new context may well occur, generating political cultural outlooks that could deviate both from the ones predominating in the host country and those of the past. But that does not mean that the past, and what the culturalists believe to be formative years of childhood and adolescence, does not matter. Feelings of cultural, including political-cultural, familiarity in the host country—in particular with respect to socialized cultural themes— should produce a greater approval of the system and its institutions, while the opposite should hold when political-cultural estrangement occur, which creates individual dissonance and disapproval or lack of system support. This theory of correspondence should be regarded as a modification and reinterpretation of the cultural theory. By ascribing past institutional and cultural environments an importance for the way individuals respond in a new context, the basic culturalist postulate of the continuous inf luence of formative socialization is kept. The development of a deviating ethnic “subculture” with few resemblances to the political culture in the country left, or with the general political culture of the host country, may well be provoked by cultural estrangement with roots in earlier and formative socialization, and thus lend support to the cultural theory. Does the cultural correspondence theory help explain the pattern of Canadian-Estonian support and Swedish-Estonian disillusion? At first glance, the literature tells us no. It has been claimed that the cultural distance between the Swedish culture7 and the one prevailing in Estonia during the first independence 1920–40 was small.8 Likewise, the materialism of the Canadian society, which confronted the more European spirit-minded and culturally interested Estonians, has been pointed out as creating a cultural gap that took years to overcome.9 The encounter with Canadian culture is depicted as the meeting between two very discrepant cultures. However, it can also be argued that cultural distance was greater in the meeting between the Swedish institutional context and the interwar

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Estonians who carried with them the values and perceptions from the first republic than was the case in the confrontation with the Canadian society and state. If the political-cultural themes predominating in the Estonian first republic are taken into consideration, it becomes clear that the Estonian culture differed from the Swedish one in crucial ways. While nonhierarchical structures, individual achievement, and equality—but certainly not egalitarianism—as we saw stood out as powerful values in Estonia, the Swedish society that the Estonians confronted was a highly stratified class society, on its way to, perhaps for such reasons, quickly developing into a welfare state where individual achievement tended to give way to far-reaching ambitions of leveling. The in-depth interviews tell us that the relative lack of class barriers in Estonia become glaringly obvious to those Estonians who f led to Sweden and were confronted with Swedish social patterns, which were and still are perceived as highly stratified.10 “Honestly speaking, I was totally shocked when I came to Sweden because it was such a prominent class society. You did not come close!” says Aino, who worked as a maid in Sweden after her escape from Estonia, when she tries to capture the intricate social play she experienced in Sweden. She goes on to suggest that perhaps even the employees regarded themselves as people of a lower rank, but “I do not think so.”11 Many of the interviewees, who f led to Sweden, bring up similar experiences. Helge ref lects on the contrasts between the two societies. Social hierarchies were marked in Sweden, and this was something of a shock to him, accustomed as he was to the “f latter” Estonian society.12 The differences in Swedish society between, for example, landowners and workers, are also mentioned in other interviews. Liidia, who came from a fairly wealthy background, recalls that in Estonia “you did not consider a persons’ social position. If you liked each other then you did. My father never picked his company, he just chose his friends.” When asked what she remembers about the way children socialized at school, she makes a similar observation, recalling that friendships were established mainly on the basis of personal affinity and not social class.13 Confronted with Swedish society, hierarchies and social segmentation were perhaps the hardest aspects to adjust to and those that differed most from the social habits of interwar Estonia. The Estonians were, for example, skeptical about the titles Swedes used in conversations to mark one’s place in the social hierarchy, regarding them as a foolish convention that made socializing rather formal and codified.14 Listening to these narratives the topic of class is often brought up as something alien to the genuine “Estonian” way of life.

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Furthermore, it became clear in the interviews that the SwedishEstonians did not adhere to the basic principle of egalitarianism that underpins the construction of the welfare state. The idea of the state taking care of people, as many believe is being done in Sweden, radically contradicts the guiding principles of individualism and achievement characteristic of interwar Estonian society. What amounts to a fairly strong dislike for one of the cornerstones of Swedish political life may contribute to the exiles maintaining a greater distance from the system. These traits of the Swedish political culture did not match the Estonian values that the interwar generation mentally brought with them. Canada, although adopting welfare programs, was and still is a culture characterized by more liberal outlooks and ideals, and if anything Estonia under the first republic embodied, as has been shown here, something of the classic liberalism of individualism and communalism. Furthermore, the social stratification in Sweden, with historical roots dating back centuries, had no analogue in Canada, a rather young British colony inhabited by British and the French subjects, which after World War II developed into one of the world’s largest immigrant states. Although, as the Swedish historians Berggren and Trägårdh show, pervasive individualism coupled with a sense of equality have also been significant elements of the Swedish political culture for a long time.15 What the interwar Estonians encountered in Canada was a society “in the making”; a familiar experience for an Estonian growing up in the new and struggling Estonian republic. Thus, feelings of cultural distance and cultural correspondence in the institutional contexts of exile and feelings determined by the culture fostered during early socialization in interwar Estonia could all contribute to explain the lower system belief of the Swedish-Estonians, while the Canadian-Estonians’ positive evaluation of the democracy and institutions becomes more intelligible. Although cultural tenacity was not a frequent response in relation to the values studied here, early socialization, that is, culture, demonstrates its impact through other, more subtle, but nevertheless crucial ways. Such a theoretical interpretation is supported by the conclusions put forward in the small but growing body of literature that approaches the question of culturalism and rationalism empirically, namely that merely tenacity as an individual cultural response seems to play a subordinate role in explaining the cultural response to major institutional change, in comparison to adaptation to present institutions.16 Besides addressing the political science literature, research in social psychology gives further weight to the results appearing here on the interwar Estonians.

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Personality, including the values that partly construct the self, is more volatile than what the personality stability theory has thus far assumed, and its alleged stability may well prove to be partly an interactive effect of environmental stability.18 That is not to say that cultural tenacity is not important; especially when life priorities and roles were investigated, cultural perceptions seemed to have been fairly stable. But early socialization also has an impact in less straight-forward ways. Soviet Occupation and Home Estonians After the partition in 1944, interwar generation of Estonians lived also in Soviet-Estonia. It has been suggested that in particular the democracy of the interwar years made an unforgettable impression on those who experienced it, that is, on people today well into their seventies and eighties.19 One exile interviewee consequently describes encounters with Estonian friends who had experienced Soviet occupation as indeed a meeting of minds: Interviewer: Earlier, you said that you have kept much of that which is Estonian, the values you learned in interwar Estonia. Do you think that people your age in Estonia would say the same thing? Respondent: You have the values that you formed up to the age of eighteen-nineteen. We have those in common and we have built on these. But the building can differ a little. Maybe not values, but the nationalist, idealist value is the same but it can be . . . Interviewer: But you still think that you have a living history together? Respondent: Yes, we do. Going there the first time and start talking, that started . . . not seeing each other for fifty years had no importance. We had school and we had values and the national side, we had in common. We had a common value ground, and that it happened another development for them than for us was something different, but the values built during childhood, those were the same.20 Such a conviction also receives some indirect support from earlier investigations of the Soviet Union, China, Cuba, and Eastern Europe, all Communist-governed states, undertaken in the 1970s and 1980s,

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where little evidence was found to support the idea that the birth of a “new socialist man” actually had taken place.21 Some observers claim that the indoctrination carried out by the Soviet regime stopped at the rhetorical level and “had extremely limited success in its seventy-year effort to inculcate regime values among Soviet citizens.”22 Several survey studies conducted during the 1990s, and even earlier, furthermore show the citizenry in the former Soviet republics and in Eastern and Central Europe to be surprisingly “democratically” minded, at least in certain respects.23 But there is another side to reality as well. In several of the in-depth interviews, the Estonians in exile also remember encountering relatives and friends in Estonia who, after fifty years of separation, had virtually become strangers and with whom they could no longer identify. In the eyes of these respondents there is a wide and definite gap between the exiles that have been fortunate enough to live in freedom and prosperity, and the home Estonians, marked by their experiences of fifty years of Soviet life and propaganda but also by post-Communist cynicism. The desire to integrate the communities in exile and home Estonians after Estonia regained independence was not, according to Aarelaid-Tart, successful: “Both sides admitted that speaking in a common mother tongue doesn’t prevent them from thinking in different ways.”24 As one Estonian in exile remarks, the Estonians living under Soviet rule are ethically, not ideologically marked.25 Two contrasting pictures thus emerge. The first one suggests that the effects of being brought up during the decades of the first independent Estonian Republic were powerful enough to effectively counteract Communist rhetoric as well as everyday life experiences and radical institutional changes. Our respondents in exile easily recognize their Estonian counterparts, despite fifty years having passed. The contrasting portrait sees in Soviet Estonia a tearing down of the culture that once was independent Estonia. Mental and material pressures have turned the generation of interwar Estonians who remained in Soviet Estonia into strangers, ethically distant and “present-minded.” If we trust the results presented in chapter five, the political importance of the Estonian interwar experience alluded to in the literature needs to be discussed in a more nuanced way than hitherto has been done. This, however, is not to deny the great symbolic importance of that time, nor that the experience of democratic rule fulfilled a great and inspiring role once independence was regained in 1991. But not even the privilege of being socialized during the “golden years” of the Estonian first republic seems to have created any immunity against the

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detrimental impact of the Soviet regime and later institutional developments. We can say this because what we have seen portrayed here is a group of interwar Estonians who in comparison to their generation comrades have become alienated, suspicious, and bereft of political optimism and faith. The individuals in the home Estonian group are less interested in politics, less trusting toward people in general, and less self-confident politically than those of their generation who have spent a major part of their adult lives in exile. Furthermore, they are not at all as politically tolerant as the Estonians in exile—they confide less in political and public institutions, while simultaneously believing to a greater extent that the state, not the individual, should be responsible for individual welfare. Nevertheless, at the same time, all or most of the respondents of the Estonian interwar generation today share a common outlook on what it means to be citizen, in particular praising personal autonomy and rule-following. They are also all politically active to a similar extent— here political activity is measured as regularly following news in the newspaper or elsewhere and attempting to convince others about one’s opinion. All three groups overwhelmingly advocate individual incentive above egalitarianism as an economic principle. The interpretation which I defend is that Communist rhetoric and practice had little success in erasing the predominating achievement orientation of the Estonian republic. Thus, despite living under a Soviet system that regarded individual achievement and work in, to say the least, a dualistic manner, the achievement culture, the high value placed on individualism, and the work ethic that predominated in independent Estonia—as in many other countries at the time—survived among the home Estonians, despite a radical change in incentive structures and general social conditions. Despite a political system that demanded obedience and conducted most economic and social activities according to double standards, the home Estonians praise a citizen ethics of personal autonomy and rule-following as highly as the exiles do. That important values such as commitment to a democratic interpretation of citizenship and the strong support for individualism and achievement survived the at-times quite repressive Communist regime points to the importance of the tenacity of socialized culture even under the pressure of radical institutional change. It shows that this generation carried with it a mental legacy from the civic culture of the Estonian first republic which was not possible to completely wipe out although, as the levels of trust and political tolerance show, experiences

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of living for a long time in an authoritarian society and later under post-Communist realities left its mental marks as well. Do the results indicate that the Estonian transition to democracy in the beginning of the 1990s even could have been facilitated by a collective memory of political cultural traditions from the first republic transmitted not least by this interwar generation? The results just discussed at least partially point to an affirmative answer. The role of generations and the micro-entities of families in the process of preserving, reconstructing, and transmitting such collective memories has been pointed out in the literature. Political-cultural legacies travel through their incorporation in a collective or social memory. In evolutionary anthropology a capacity to “accumulate culture,” in other words, transmit cultural tradition over time, has been emphasized as one of the truly human capacities.26 A central question is not only that such legacies or accumulations occur but how “societies and groups will come to remember their past.”27 In other words, who are the bearers of the accumulated culture? In totalitarian societies, the bearers are usually families (and institutions), since no other entities outside the state are allowed to form. In authoritarian societies, families with their generational overlap and powerful socialization abilities also play a large role in producing and preserving social memories. That is why the interwar generation has been a crucial one to study, particularly in its Estonian context. Furthermore, through social initiatives there are often possibilities in authoritarian societies for a “parallel polis” or a second society to grow, who keep the collective memory alive through meeting each other, and through discussions and communication.28 The major mechanism by which collective memories work over time is to shape persistent, but of course in a sense constructed, identities of “who we are,” “who we were,” “how we do things in this community,” which in turn generates higher or lower levels of collective preparedness for institutional change. In other words, collective memories are not primarily specific interpretations of historical facts or events, but are a way to capture more profound cultural identities. The republican interwar generation thus has played a role in preserving such an Estonian identity, even though it has also been significantly affected by Soviet experiences. The slightly bewildering picture of simultaneous support for the assumption that individuals are culturally tenacious and the assumption that they adapt to new institutional settings is strengthened by this study. If we trust the data presented, we obviously cannot come to

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understand cultural change and continuity by merely adhering to one theoretical set of assumptions. Processes of mental reactions and development are far from simple, and both theories contribute in part to shedding light on the problem. Even those interviewed ref lect upon how they simultaneously live in two worlds when, for example, they can observe themselves becoming Swedish while feeling Estonian. Many of the elderly Estonians in exile often return to descriptions of how they have come to live with “two mental levels” in their heads: Respondent: Mostly, I am an Estonian, but I do not fit in there either. Interviewer: When you say mostly Estonian, is it because you identify with . . . Respondent: Youth, I think that those who came when they were children. And are born here. That is different. While we who came as adults or at least twenty years of age, it is in some way that youth that makes you say that “it was over there.”29 So, when we return to the two contrasting images—one that claims that fifty years of separation meant very little and one that states that the comrades they met after 50 years were mental strangers—we see that they are both true. While the first one alluded to identities that were basically unaltered, the other observed instead the change in political and civic perceptions caused by institutional differences, a radical shift in itself. Identity, here defined as perceptions of the self in relation to the world, has stayed much the same regardless of whether the adult years were spent in Soviet Estonia, in Sweden, or in Canada. How Deliberate Is Cultural Adaptation? Let me end this book by raising one last question. It can be concluded that cultural adaptation—as the rationalists assume—does take place. Early socialization did not safeguard the Estonians of the interwar period who lived under authoritarian rule, more as a result of their life experiences than by ideological indoctrination, against becoming less democratic- and less civic-minded than their counterparts in exile. Furthermore, the exiles’ early socialization was not unaffected, even though they were not subjected to the same harsh pressure to “forget”

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as the home Estonians were. Although the exiles were allowed to remember, and even actively organized themselves to do so, existing institutions and external impulses did break through and affect their mentalities. How then can we understand the actual psychological process of cultural adaptation?30 Should we interpret it as a mostly calculated process in line with rationalist outlooks where, in a deliberate process of inner ref lection, the individual somehow makes up his/her mind to abandon certain values and ways of thinking since they are useless in the new environment? Or is the process largely apparent to the individual only after it has taken place? If it is the latter, then I believe the case for arguing that adaptation is a rationalist process is much less convincing. When inf luences from a new context almost incessantly surround the individual, the weighing of the new ways with the old could very well be a more deliberate mental activity, with considerations regarding the “functionality” and the “sensibility” of previously acquired orientations fighting with the more forceful impulses coming from the new society. Described in this way, rational adaptation does not appear to be psychologically far-fetched. Nevertheless, this view is contradicted by the respondents’ descriptions of how they have managed the “two mental levels” of exile, in other words living in two worlds. The life stories namely acknowledge that cultural adaptation has taken place, although in a way this is hardly noticeable to the individuals concerned, that is, largely unconscious. When ref lecting on change and continuity, an Estonian who has lived in exile for decades even recognizes the difficulty of willingly trying to produce a change of mind. Interviewer: That also goes for mentality? Respondent: Of course, but we sit on our old thoughts, we have not developed. We have stagnated. Interviewer: What do you mean by stagnated? Respondent: That we think in old ways all the time, as we are used to think since our time in school. It is hard to change this ways of thinking because time changes and the needs change but we sit where we sit. To decide what is right and wrong; we tend to think that what was before is right, but it is not like that. Interviewer: And you do not think that the Estonians in Estonia do? That they have stagnated? Respondent: Oh no. They are a terrible evolution.” (Interview 7)

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So what would a realistic rationalist scenario for cultural adaptation that does not assume impossibly high levels of calculation and utility look like? A reasonable interpretation of the idea of cultural adaptation as a rational process is to not primarily regard the incorporation of the “new” values as a process of (calculated) choice. The choice, which could very well be calculated in relation to the utility gained, rather lies in the process of successively sorting out “non-feasible” mental outlooks, in actively deciding what to remember and what to forget. Some of the respondents actually tend to see the preservation of Estonian culture as nostalgic and inappropriate in the present conditions, and thus have chosen to let go: Respondent: It is a difference between east and west. It is the regime and the occupation. But I do not think . . . We who have lived our adult lives in different societies in the West have adapted to these ways and thinking. Interviewer: You get accustomed to the society in which you live, in other words? Respondent: Yes, more or less and without much notice. Interviewer: So the interwar period — Respondent: . . . is a fairy tale which does not exist and will never return. Why do not the Estonians rush back to live in Estonia now? It is a free country. (Interview 10) The question of how best to understand the mechanisms by which change and continuity occur concerns itself with deep-lying psychological processes of the human mind that are complex and difficult to understand. But if cultural adaptation is mostly nonref lective then what is rational about it, if by rationality we mean calculated, utilitydirected choice aimed at promoting the perceived self-interest of the individual? It seems that adaptation proceeds in a way fairly identical to the socialization processes the culturalists describe as taking place at a very early age. In other words, cultural adaptation is basically a nonconscious process that takes place in adulthood, and gives the individuals a new basis for action, grounded in stable perceptions although not in identity. Likewise, it is doubtful whether cultural tenacity should always be assumed to be an unconscious process. On the contrary, the preservation of and the “holding on” to an Estonian identity through formal networks and language has been a highly conscious choice for the generation who played the leading role in this book, especially for the well

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educated. What is important on a theoretical level and calls for further research is that choice enters the picture not primarily in the adaptation processes, which unfold according to “culturalist” logic, but in the processes of preservation. While forgetting is nondeliberate, remembering can be a very active choice.

A PPE N DI X

A

Variables, Construction of Indexes, and Questions*

*This appendix contains the questions posed in the survey and presents

the variables used in the reported analyses. In order to facilitate interpretation of the results of the multivariate analyses that are presented in Appendix B, all variables have been recoded so that they run from 0 to 1 (but please note that in the figures and tables presented in the chapters in this book, the results have been stated in percent).

Independent Variable Present “nationality”—Estonian, Swedish, or Canadian—constitutes the independent variable. As for the multivariate analyses in Appendix B the independent variable has been encoded as two dummies, namely, “Swedish” and “Canadian.” The Estonians make up the reference group: Swedish (001) 1.00 = Swedish nationality 0.00 = other nationality (i.e., Canadian or Estonian) Canadian (001) 1.00 = Canadian nationality 0.00 = other nationality (i.e., Swedish or Estonian)

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Appendix A Control Variables

Sex (02) 0.00 = Male 1.00 = Female Year of birth (03) 0.00 = 1915–20 1.00 = 1921–25 Place of Birth (04) 0.00 = city 1.00 = countryside Dependent Variables Most value dimensions are measured with indices. The construction of the indices is supported both by theoretical arguments and empirical analysis (principal component analysis). All in all, a large number of principal component analyses have been performed, with the purpose of examining many different combinations of variables. These analyses are not reported here, in order to save space. Most of the indices are based on more than one interview-question. But there are also some value dimensions that are measured with a variable based on one single interview question. Civic Values Political Interest This index is based on three different questions, posed to the respondents, on political interest: (063) How important is politics in your life? (Q28).5 1.00 = very important 0.67 = rather important 0.33 = not particularly important 0.00 = not important at all (065) When you discuss political matters, is it then above all together with relatives and friends or can it happen that you also discuss politics

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with people you only meet occasionally and who you therefore don’t know that well? (Q29) 0.50 = only with relatives and close friends 1.00 = also with people I do not know very well 0.00 = I never discuss politics (067) How interested would you say you are in politics? (Q31) 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not particularly 0.67 = some interest 1.00 = interested a great deal The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (“interested in politics to a minimum extent,” i.e., the respondent scored “0.00” on all three questions) to “1.00” (“interested in politics to a maximum extent,” i.e., the respondent scored “1.00” on all three questions). Political Activity This index is based on two questions regarding political activity: (095) Do you regularly read the daily newspaper? (Q46) 0.00 = never 0.33 = not regularly 0.67 = a few times a week 1.00 = every day (098) When you yourself have a strong opinion, do you then try to persuade your relatives, friends, or former colleges to share your opinion? (Q49) 1.00 = often 0.67 = now and then 0.33 = seldom

0.00 = never The values on the two original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of political activity, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on both questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of political activity where the respondent has answered “1.00” on both questions).

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Appendix A

Political Virtue Values The importance of active citizens? This index is constructed on the basis of four different interview questions. (092) There are different opinions regarding how active a citizen in a democracy ought to be. Some people say that most citizens should participate actively while others consider that an active minority is preferable. Do you agree that most citizens in a democracy ought to participate in political life? (Q43) 0.00 = disagree completely 0.33 = slightly agree 0.67 = agree to a certain extent 1.00 = agree completely (0100) The good citizen should be active in civic associations (i.e., “civil society”) (Q50).B 1.00 = very important 0.67 = fairly important 0.33 = not so important 0.00 = not important at all (0101) The good citizen should actively try to inf luence policymaking (Q50) 1.00 = very important 0.67 = somewhat important 0.33 = not so important 0.00 = not important at all (0102) The good citizen should think more about others than about himself (Q50).D 1.00 = very important 0.67 = somewhat important 0.33 = not so important 0.00 = not important at all The values on the four original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of “activity” is considered important for the citizen, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all four questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of activity is

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desirable in a citizen where the respondent has answered “1.00” on all four questions). Is it important for citizens to comply with rules and regulations? This index is based on three different interview questions: (096) Why and how do you think one should use one’s right to vote? (Q47) 0.00 =you should not vote because it is no use 0.50 = if there are alternatives serving your own interests 0.50 = to express content/discontent with the political elite 1.00 = it is a duty as a citizen (099) The good citizen should always follow the laws (Q50).A 1.00 = very important 0.67 = somewhat important 0.33 = not so important 0.00 = not important at all (0103) The good citizen should vote in the public elections (Q50).E 1.00 = very important 0.67 = somewhat important 0.33 = not so important 0.00 = not important at all The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of importance is attributed to following rules and regulations, i.e. the respondent has answered “0.00” on all three questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of importance is attributed to following rules and regulations, i.e. the respondent has answered “1.00” on all three questions). Is it important for citizens to reach autonomous opinions? This variable is based on one question: (0104) The good citizen should have an opinion regardless of others (Q50).F 1.00 = very important 0.67 = somewhat important 0.33 = not so important 0.00 = not important at all

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Appendix A

General Efficacy Does the respondent feel that people of his kind has a say about what the parliament and the government do, particularly through the general elections? This variable is based on one question: (068) To have a say about political decisions (Q32) 0.00 = fully agree with the statement that “despite the general elections, people like myself have nothing to say about what the government and the parliament do.” 0.33 = somewhat agree with the statement that “despite the general elections, people like myself have nothing to say about what the government and the parliament do.” 0.67 = somewhat agree with the statement that “not least through the general elections, people like myself can inf luence the parliament and the government.” 1.00 = fully agree with the statement that “not least through the general elections, people like myself can inf luence the parliament and the government.” Trust Do you trust people close-by? This index is based on three different interview questions: (014) When you have done something requiring cooperation with people outside your family, do you have the feeling that it will be accomplished? (Q1) 0.00 = Surely not 0.33 = Probably not 0.67 = Probably 1.00 = Certainly (016) Do you think that, in the future, there will always be people that you can count on and who will be there for you? (Q3) 0.00 = Strongly doubtful 0.33 = Not certain 0.67 = Fairly certain 1.00 = Completely certain

Appendix A

127

(048) How much do you trust your family (Q20).1 0.00 = not at all 0.25 = not very much 0.50 = neither trust nor distrust 0.75 = a lot 1.00 = completely The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of trust in people close-by, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all three questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of trust in people close-by, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on all three questions). Do you trust people in general? This index is based on three different interview questions: (017) Generally speaking, would you say that most people try to be helpful? (Q4) 0.00 = No, they look out for themselves 0.33 = Sometimes 0.67 = Fairly often 1.00 = Most of the time (019) Would most people try to take advantage of you (use you) given the opportunity? (Q6) 0.00 = would take advantage of me 1.00 = would be decent and fair (028) (Q11) Most of us would like to think that every person is good and honest. Experiences in life can, on the other hand, show that is not the case. In general, would you say that most people can be trusted? 0.00 = can never be too cautious 1.00 = most can be trusted The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of trust in people in general, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all three questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of trust in people in general, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on all three questions).

128

Appendix A

Do you trust people in your country of residence? This index is based on three different interview questions (which are adapted to the country where the respondent lives): (049) How much do you trust Swedes/Canadians/Estonians? (Q20).2 0.00 = not at all 0.25 = not much 0.50 = neither trust nor distrust 0.75 = trust quite a bit 1.00 = trust completely (050) How much do you trust Estonians (Estonians in exile)? (Q20).3 0.00 = not at all 0.25 = not much 0.50 = neither trust nor distrust 0.75 = trust quite a bit 1.00 = trust completely (051) How much do you trust immigrants/Russians? (Q20).4 0.00 = not at all 0.25 = not much 0.50 = neither trust nor distrust 0.75 = trust quite a bit 1.00 = trust completely The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of trust in people in the country of residence, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all three questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of trust in people in the country of residence, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on all three questions). Have people you trusted disappointed you? This variable is based on one question: (015) Has it ever happened that people you trusted disappointed you? (Q2) 0.00 = often 0.33 = sometimes 0.67 = seldom 1.00 = never

Appendix A

129

Tolerance To what extent does the respondent defend political rights for political extremists? This variable is based on one question: (027) Some people believe that organizations holding extreme opinions should be deprived of their freedom of speech and their right to meet. Others, on the other hand, believe that it is important that these organizations are also entitled to speak up. What is your opinion? (Q10) 0.00 = should be deprived 0.33 = usually should be deprived 0.67 = usually not should be deprived 1.00 = under no circumstances should be deprived Solidarity If witnessing an act of shoplifting or small theft, would the respondent report that to the staff? This variable is based on one question: (025) Sometimes, without wanting it, you can become involved in very unpleasant situations, ones where many people do not know how to react or what to do. If you were a witness to shoplifting, what would you do? (Q8) 0.00 = nothing, or tell my family and friends 1.00 = report it to the staff If witnessing assault or mistreatment, would the respondent report that to the police? This variable is based on one question: (026) If you were a witness to mistreatment (an assault), what would you do? (Q9) 0.00 = nothing, or tell my family and friends 1.00 = report it to the police What is considered to be the main reason that certain individuals in the country of residence remain in poverty? This variable is based on one question (originally two questions, 029 and 030) “There are people in this country who live under sparse economic conditions. Out of the following factors, which reason do you consider to be the most important and the second most important?”

130

Appendix A

1.00 = The major reason is “laziness and lack of will power” and the second most important is “lack of planning.” Or: the major reason is “lack of planning” and the second most important is “laziness and lack of will power.” 0.00 = Other answers. That is, these respondents have not mentioned just laziness and lack of planning as the main reason or the second most important one, but also “bad luck,” “unjust society,” “inevitable part of modern progress” or “other reasons.” Achievement Should efficiency, competence, and individual achievement be rewarded economically? This variable is based on two questions: (033) Imagine two persons, of the same age, doing practically the same job. Do you think that it is fair or unfair that the person who is more proficient and more efficient is better paid than the other one? (Q14) 1.00 = fair to reward efficiency 0.00 = not fair to reward efficiency (069) Do you think that incomes should be more equal, or that there should be more incentives for individual effort? (Q33) 0.00 = more equal 1.00 = more incentives for individual effort For the variable used in the analyses the respondent has been attributed “1.00” if the answer on both questions was “1.00” (i.e., that it is fair to reward efficiency and that there should be more incentive for individual effort). Others have been attributed “0.00.” State Values The Responsibility of the State Should the responsibility for well-being primarily rest on the individual himself or on the state? This variable is based on one question: (070) Do you think that every individual should take most of the responsibility for providing for himself, or that the state should take the most responsibility to ensure that everyone is provided for? (Q34)

Appendix A

131

1.00 = individual should provide for himself 0.00 = the state should ensure that everyone is provided for Confidence in Institutions To what extent does the respondent confide for political and societal institutions in the country of residence? This index is based on eight different interview questions: (079) Confidence in the armed forces (Q37).1 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (080) Confidence in the education system (Q37).2 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (081) Confidence for the police (Q37).3 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (082) Confidence in the parliament (Q37).4 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (083) Confidence in the government (Q37).5 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (084) Confidence in leading politicians (Q37).6 0.00 = not at all

132

Appendix A

0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (085) Confidence in the public administration (Q37).7 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal (086) Confidence in the party system (Q37).8 0.00 = not at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = quite a lot 1.00 = great deal The values on the eight original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (a minimum of confidence in the political and societal institutions, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all eight questions) to “1.00” (a maximum of confidence in the political and societal institutions, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on all eight questions). The Routes to Success Are actual merits important for occupational success? This index is based on two different interview questions: (020) Different people have different opinions about what is important in order to get a good position in society. What is your opinion as to the importance of formal education? (Q7).1 1.00 = very important 0.50 = rather important 0.00 = not important at all (021) How important is it to work hard to achieve a good position in society? (Q7).2 1.00 = very important 0.50 = rather important 0.00 = not important at all

Appendix A

133

The values on the two original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (actual merits of minimal importance, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on both questions) to “1.00” (actual merits of maximum importance, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on both questions). How important is knowing the right people/coming from the “right” family background to occupational success? This index is based on two interview questions. (022) Different people have different opinions about what is important in order to achieve a good position in society. What is your opinion as to the importance of knowing the right people? (Q7).3 1.00 = very important 0.50 = rather important 0.00 = not important at all (024) Is it important to come from the “right” family background? (Q7).5 1.00 = very important 0.50 = rather important 0.00 = not important at all The values on the two original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (knowing the right people/ coming from the right background of minimal importance, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on both questions) to “1.00” (knowing the right people/coming from the right background of maximum importance, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on both questions). Different people have different opinions about what is important in order to achieve a good position in society. What is your opinion on the importance of having a large network of social contacts? This variable is based on one question: (023) Is it important to have a large network of social contacts? (Q7).4 1.00 = very important 0.50 = rather important 0.00 = not important at all

134

Appendix A

Perceptions about Public Authorities Attitudes toward public institutions. This index is based on two different interview questions: (089) In considering your own view of state authorities and institutions, how would you characterize your own feelings with respect to these institutions? (Q40) 0.00 = care very little about what happens 0.33 = show some interest 0.67 = show quite a bit of interest 1.00 = care very much about what happens (091) How would you characterize your own behavior toward state institutions/authorities, local authorities and administrations? (Q42) 0.00 = try to avoid them as much as possible 1.00 = does not cause me any problems to make contact with them The values on the two original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (minimal contact/interest for public institutions, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on both questions) to “1.00” (maximum of contact/interest for public institutions, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on both questions). The attention paid by public institutions and elected representatives to the general opinion of ordinary people: This index is based on two interview questions: (093) In general, how much attention do you think that authorities pay to what ordinary people think when they make their decisions? (Q44) 0.00 = no attention at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = some attention 1.00 = good deal of attention (094) In general, how much attention do you think that the persons in parliament pay to the opinion of their voters when they make decisions? (Q45) 0.00 = no attention at all 0.33 = not much 0.67 = some attention 1.00 = good deal of attention

Appendix A

135

The values on the two original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (minimal attention, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on both questions) to “1.00” (maximal attention, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on both questions). Is competition between political parties beneficial to the political system? This variable is based on one question: (090) Political parties are on the one hand a necessity in a democracy, but on the other hand the struggle for votes is sometimes considered as too dominating. Would you agree that competition among many political parties makes the political system stronger? (Q41) 0.00 = disagree 0.33 = agree just a little 0.67 = agree mostly 1.00 = agree fully Fundamental Characteristics of Social Life The respondents were asked whether they thought that society in general was fair. This index is based on three different interview questions: (087) Societal resources are always scarce and many people can, therefore, consider it difficult to satisfy different interests at the same time. Do you agree that when one group in society gains something, it is necessary that other groups lose something? (Q38) 0.00 = fully agree 0.33 = mostly agree 0.67 = mostly disagree 1.00 = disagree completely (088) Generally speaking, would you say that this country is run by a few large interests looking out for themselves, or that it is run for the benefit of all people? (Q39) 0.00 = few large interests 1.00 = for the benefit of all the people (097) How do you perceive the distance between inf luential and ordinary people? (Q48) 0.00 = very large 0.50 = not that large 1.00 = it is the ordinary people that are inf luential

136

Appendix A

The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (minimum of justice in society, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on both questions) to “1.00” (maximum of justice in society, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on both questions). Life Control-Values To which extent do the respondents feel they are engaged and involved in their own lives? This index is based on three different interview questions: (052) Do you often have the feeling that you do not care about what is happening around you? (Q21) 0.00 = very often 0.25 = rather often 0.50 = sometimes 0.75 = seldom 1.00 = never (053) Do you often feel that the things you are doing in your everyday life lack meaning? (Q22) 0.00 = very often 0.25 = rather often 0.50 = sometimes 0.75 = seldom 1.00 = never (057) I often have a feeling of being outside; as someone not having anything to fulfil in society (Q26) 0.00 = very often 0.25 = rather often 0.50 = sometimes 0.75 = seldom 1.00 = never The values on the three original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (minimum feeling of involvement in life, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all three questions) to “1.00” (maximum involvement in life, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on all three questions).

Appendix A

137

To which extent do the respondents feel that they can cope with and inf luence their own lives? This index is based on four different interview questions: (054) Do you mostly find it easy to handle problems that appear in everyday life? (Q23) 0.00 = never 0.25 = seldom 0.50 = sometimes 0.75 = most of the time 1.00 = always (055) Do you mostly know how to behave when you find yourself in different situations in your everyday life? (Q24) 1.00 = always 0.67 = most of the time 0.33 = sometimes 0.00 = seldom/never1 (056) Does it ever happen that you feel that you not are completely free to decide for yourself in life? (Q25) 0.00 = very often 0.25 = rather often 0.50 = sometimes 0.75 = seldom 1.00 = never (058) Do you often have conf licting feelings and thoughts? (Q27) 0.00 = very often 0.25 = rather often 0.50 = sometimes 0.75 = seldom 1.00 = never The values on the four original variables are added. The index is constructed so that it runs from “0.00” (minimum feeling of inf luence in life, i.e., the respondent has answered “0.00” on all four questions) to “1.00” (maximum feeling of inf luence in life, i.e., the respondent has answered “1.00” on all four questions).

Notes *This appendix has been prepared by Dr. Per Adman, Department of Government, Uppsala University. 1. Out of the respondents, no one answered “never.” As a consequence, this category and “seldom” were collapsed.

A PPE N DI X

B

Multivariate Analyses

This section reports on the multivariate analyses of all the different sorts of values, or dependent variables, that are included in the study.1 In all of the analyses the following control variables are included: gender, age, and place of birth (in a city or in the countryside). Where the dependent variable is dichotomous, logistic regression analysis has been performed. In other cases linear regression analysis (Ordinary Least Squares, OLS) has been undertaken. In order to save space, the tables report the regression coefficients and level of statistical significance for the independent variable (“nationality”) only, and not for the control variables. Furthermore, the results of several multivariate regression analyses are often reported in the same table (see, e.g., table 1.d. that reports the results for four different dependent variables, or in this case four different dimensions of trust). Here all the variables are recoded so that they run from 0 to 1.2 That is, their minimum value is 0.00, and their maximum value is 1.00. The independent variable, “nationality,” is encoded as two dummy variables, one dummy representing Swedes and one representing Canadians. The home Estonians constitute the reference group (for more detailed information concerning the construction of the variables, see Appendix A). Concerning the linear regression analyses (OLS): “Adj. R-2” refers to the adjusted R-squared. “B” refers to unstandardized regression coefficients. As all the variables run from 0.00 to 1.00 the regression coefficients can be interpreted as percentage differences. For instance: in the “political interest-row” in table A.1 later we find that B for Swedes is 0.21. This means that we predict that Swedes living in Sweden instead of Estonia causes 21 percentage points higher political interest than

140

Appendix B

Estonians, controlling for gender, age, and place of birth. In the same row we find that B for Canadians is 0.20. This value shall be interpreted as that we predict that Canadians have 20 percentage points higher political interest than the Estonians, controlling for gender, age, and place of birth. In other words, Swedes and Canadians are on about the same political interest level, while Estonians show lower levels of political interest. Concerning the logistic regression analyses: “R-2” refers to a pseudo R-2 measure.3 B is the regression coefficient. “Proc. diff. Swedes” and “Proc. diff. Canadians” are measures that are constructed in order to facilitate interpretation of the effects of the independent variables. For instance, “Proc. diff. Swedes” refers to the percentage difference between the probability that Swedes and the probability that Estonians score “1.00” on the dependent variable, holding the control variables at their means. For instance: in table A.6 later the “Proc. diff. Swedes”—value in the second row is “–40.9.” In other words, the predicted probability that Swedes report shoplifting to the staff is 40.9 percentage points lower than for Estonians. Analogously the value “–21.7” for “Proc. diff. Canadians” in the same row shall be interpreted in this way: the predicted probability that Canadians report shoplifting to the staff is 21.7 percentage points lower than for Estonians. In other words, Estonians seem to be most likely to report shoplifting. Swedes are least likely to report shoplifting, and Canadians are somewhere in between. Civic Values Table A.1 Political interest (linear regression analysis [ordinary least squares, OLS] )

Political interest Political activity

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

0.21***

0.20***

0.179

285

-.04

0.020

288

-0.03

*** Significant at 0.01 level; ** Significant at 0.05 level; * Significant at 0.1 level.

Appendix B Table A.2

141

Political virtues (linear regression analysis [OLS] )

Citizens activity important Citizen should follow laws Citizen should form independent opinions

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

-0.03 0.03 0.07**

0.03 0.06*** 0.04

0.015 0.009 0.065

N 280 291 289


Table A.3

General efficacy (linear regression analysis [OLS] )

People like myself can exert through the general elections

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

0.11**

0.40***

0.227

285


Table A.4

Trust (linear regression analysis [OLS]) B, Swedes

Trust people close-by Trust people in general Trust people of the same nationality Been disappointed in people whom one trusted

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

0.02

0.10***

.074

273

0.30*** 0.04

0.20*** –.03

0.146 0.022

261 243

01

0.02

0.000

290


Table A.5 Tolerance (linear regression analysis [OLS] )

Political extremists should be deprived of political rights

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

0.12***

0.27***

0.132

276


142 Table A.6

Appendix B Solidarity (logistic regression) B, Swedes

Report shop-lifting to the staff Report assault to the police Individual himself is responsible for being poor

Proc. diff. Swedes

B, Canadians

Proc. diff. Canadians

R-2

N

–2.99***

–40.9

–2.14***

–21.7

0.155

278

–0.11

–1.7

1.6**

11.4

0.058

274

0.15

2.2

0.65

11.5

0.032

216


Table A.7

Equality (logistic regression) B, Swedes

Efficiency and individual achievement should be rewarded

–0.53

Proc. diff. Swedes

B, Canadians


R-2

N

–6.3

–0.62

–7.6

0.026

279


State Values Table A.8

The responsibility of the state (logistic regression) B, Swedes

Individual responsible for welfare

1.16***

Proc. diff. Swedes 16.3

B, Canadians


R-2

N

2.48***

23.5

0.140

285


Appendix B

143

Table A.9 Confidence in public institutions (linear regression [OLS] )

Confidence in public institutions (political and social)

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

0.05*

0.14***

0.124

N

231


Table A.10a How to attain success in society (linear regression [OLS] )

Actual merits Knowing the right people/right family background

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

0.00 –0.17***

0.02 –0.16***

0.013 0.101

N 287 284


Table A.10b

How to attain success in society (logistic regression) B, Swedes

Large social network

1.60**

Proc. diff. Swedes

B, Canadians

18.4


0.75

6.0

R-2

N

0.084 283


Table A.11

Attitudes toward authorities (linear regression [OLS] )

Perceptions of public authorities Public authorities and elected representatives pay attention to public opinion Party competition benefits the political system

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

0.11***

0.195***

0.088

283

0.12***

0.28***

0.341

271

.18***

.092

276

.07


144

Appendix B Table A.12

How fair is society? (linear regression [OLS] ) B, Swedes

How fair is society?

0.27***

B, Canadians 0.31***

Adj. R-2

N

0.246

260


Table A.13 [OLS] )

How important are different things in life? (linear regression

How important is work? How important are spare time activities and social contacts? How important is religion?

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

–0.07***

–0.07***

0.034

290

0.05** –0.10**

0.09*** 0.01

0.079 0.043

290 290


Life Control-Values Table A.14

Life Control-Values (linear regression [OLS] )

High life-involvement Can cope with and inf luence life

B, Swedes

B, Canadians

Adj. R-2

N

–0.08***

0.10***

0.124

285

0.09***

0.080

285

0.00


Notes 1. In the chapters earlier there are only figures and tables based on bivariate analyses. 2. Please note that in the figures and tables presented in the chapters earlier the results have been stated in percent. 3. This particular pseudo R-2 measure is defined as: R-2 = 1 – LL1 / LL0, where LL1 is the log-likelihood value for the full model and LL0 is the log-likelihood

Appendix B

145

value for the “null model” (i.e., a model with an intercept only). For a discussion of this and other pseudo R-2 measures, see Hagle and Mitchell, 1992, especially pp. 764–765

References Blalock, Hubert M. Jr. 1979. Social Statistics. Rev. 2. ed. New York: McGraw-Hill. Hagle, Timothy M. & Glenn E. Mitchell, II. 1992. “Goodness-of-Fit Measures for Probit and Logit.” American Journal of Political Science 36: 762–784.


NOT E S

One Socialized Culture and Institutional Change: Introducing the Discussion 1. Gabriel Almond and Sidney Verba, 1963, The Civic Culture. Political Attitudes and Democracy in Five Nations, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. 2. Cf. Harry Eckstein, 1997, “Social Science as Cultural Science, Rational Choice as Metaphysics” in Richard J. Ellis, Michael Thompson (eds.), Culture Matters. Essays in Honor of Aaron Wildawsky, Boulder: Westview Press, 25; Larry Diamond, 1999, Developing Democracy towards Consolidation, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 165. 3. Karl Mannheim, 1952, Essays on the Sociology of Knowledge, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd. 286. 4. Cf. Russell Dalton, 2000, “Citizen Attitudes and Political Behavior,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 33, no. 6/7, August–September 2000, 914; Brian Barry, 1970, Sociologists, Economists and Democracy, London: Macmillan, 52. 5. Talcott Parsons, 1937, The Structure of Social Action, New York: McGraw Hill; Harry Eckstein, 1992, Regarding Politics. Essays on Political Theory, Stability, and Change, Berkeley: University of California Press, 265–285. 6. Ronald Inglehart and Christian Welzel, 2005, Modernization, Cultural Change, and Democracy. The Human Development Sequence, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; cf. Charles Lockhart, 1997, “Political Culture and Political Change,” in Richard J. Ellis and Michael Thompson (eds.), Culture Matters. Essays in Honor of Aaron Wildawsky, Boulder: Westview Press, 91. 7. M.K Jennings and Richard Niemi, 1974, The Political Character of Adolescence: the Influence of Family and Schools, Princeton: Princeton University Press; Anders Westholm, 1991, The Political Heritage. Testing Theories of Family Socialization and Generational Change, Uppsala University (diss.). 8. James Coleman, 1960, The Adolescent Society, New York: The Free Press; Almond and Verba, The Civic Culture; Eckstein, Regarding Politics, 265–285. 9. Coleman, The Adolescent Society. 10. Richard, M. Merelman, 1991, Partial Visions. Culture and Politics in Britain, Canada, and the United States, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press; Li

148

Notes

Bennich-Björkman, 1999, “Känslomakaren. Populärkulturens makt och medborgarrollens förändring,” Civilsamhället, SOU 1999: 84. 11. Carole Pateman, 1970, Participation and Democratic Theory, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; cf. Robert Putnam, 2000, Bowling Alone. The Collapse and Revival of American Community, New York: Simon & Schuster; Per Adman, 2004, Arbetslöshet, arbetsplatsdemokrati och politiskt deltagande, Uppsala University: Skrifter utgivna av Statsvetenskapliga föreningen:158 (diss.). 12. Aaron Wildawsky, 1987, “Choosing Preferences by Constructing Institutions: A Cultural Theory of Preference Formation,” American Political Science Review, 81: 3-21. 13. Harry Eckstein and Ted Gurr, 1975, Patterns of Authority: A Structural Basis for Political Inquiry, New York: John Wiley and Sons. 14. Putnam, Bowling Alone, 251. 15. Barry, Sociologists, Economists and Democracy, 52. 16. Admittedly, this amalgamation of different schools within the broad scope of institutionalism could be regarded as too much of a simplification. However, the divisions within the institutionalist perspective are of less theoretical interest here than the profound differences between the culturalists and the rationalists regarding the questions of adaptability, relearning, and cognitive coherence. 17. Jon Elster, 1991, “Rationality and Social Norms,” Archives Europeenes de Sociologie, XXXII: 109. 18. Margaret Levi, 1997, “A Model, a Method, and a Map,” Lichbach, Mark Irving, and Alan S. Zuckerman (eds.), Comparative Politics. Rationality, Culture, and Structure, Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press, 22; see also Sun-Ki Chai, 1997, “Rational Choice and Culture: Clashing Perspectives or Complementary Models of Analysis?” in Ellis and Thompson (eds.), Culture Matters. 19. Gabriel, A. Almond, 1990, A Discipline Divided, Newbury Park, California: Sage, 146–147. Almond claims that Inglehart’s results of a slowly moving shift toward post-materialist attitudes is a further example of the “plasticity” of political culture. But Inglehart’s theory is a truly culturalist one, resting on the assumption of early socialization as the major explanation for the generational pattern showing in the data. If by plasticity implies culture’s ability to change comparatively fast given new institutional conditions, Almond could be right. But the controversy stands between those who attribute individual early socialization a decisive role over the course of life, and those who deny it. 20. Donald P. Green and Ian Shapiro, 1994, Pathologies of Rational Choice Theory. A Critique of Applications in political Science, New Haven: Yale University Press; Herbert Simon, 1995, “Rationality in Political Behavior,” Political Psychology, vol. 16, no. 1. 21. Aaron Wildawsky, 1987, “Choosing Preferences by Constructing Institutions,” 3–21; cf. Elinor Ostrom, 1990, Governing the Commons. The Evolution of Institutions for Collective Action, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 22. Kathleen Thelen and Svein Steinmo, 1992, “Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Politics,” in Svein Steinmo, Kathleen Thelen, and Frank Longstreth (eds.), Structuring Politics. Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Analysis,

Notes

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Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; Junko Kato, 1996, “Review Article: Institutions and Rationality in Politics—Three Varieties of Neo-Institutionalism,” British Journal of Political Science, 26: 553–582. For an overview see Kristen Renwick Monroe (with Kristen Hill Maher), 1995, “Psychology and Rational Choice Theory,” Political Psychology, vol. 16, no. 1. 23. Herbert Simon, 1995, “Rationality in Political Behavior,” 60. 24. Monroe, (with Kristen Hill Maher), 1995, “Psychology and Rational Choice Theory,” 5. 25. Richard Rose, William Mishler, and Christian Haerpfer, 1998, Democracy and Its Alternatives. Understanding Post-Communist Societies, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 143. 26. Alex Inkeles and David H. Smith, 1974, Becoming Modern. Individual Change in Six Developing Countries, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 10. 27. In the literature, there is an established division between life-cycle effects, periodic effects, and generational effects. Only the latter two produce change. 28. Monroe (with Kristen Hill Maher), “Psychology and Rational Choice Theory”; William M. Reisinger, Arthur H., Miller, Vicki, L. Hesli, and Kristen Hill Maher, 1994, “Political Values in Russia, Ukraine, and Lithuania: Sources and Implications for Democracy,” British Journal of Political Science, vol. 24: 183–223; William Reisinger, Arthur H. Miller, Vicki L. Hesli, 1995, “Public Behavior and Political Change in Post-Soviet States,” The Journal of Politics, vol. 57, no. 4, November 1995; William Mishler and Richard Rose, 1996, “Trajectories of Fear and Hope. Support for Democracy in Post-Communist Europe,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 28, no. 4, January; James L. Gibson, 1996, “A Mile Wide But an Inch Deep (?): The Structure of Democratic Commitments in the Former USSR,” American Journal of Political Science, vol. 40, no. 2, May 1996; James Alexander, 1997, “Surveying Attitudes in Russia. A Representation of Formlessness,” Communist and PostCommunist Studies, vol. 30, no. 2; Donna Bahry, Cynthia Boaz, Stacy Gordon Burnett, 1997, “Tolerance, Transitions and Support for Civil Liberties in Russia,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 30, no. 4, August 1997; Pamela Waldron-Moore, 1999, “Eastern Europe at the Crossroads of Democratic Transition. Evaluating Support for Democratic Institutions, Satisfaction with Democratic Government, and Consolidation of Democratic Regimes,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 32, no. 1, February. 29. J.W. Berry, 1997, “Immigration, Acculturation and Adaptation,” Applied Psychology. An International Review, vol. 6; David Sam Lackland, 2000, “Psychological Adaptation of Adolescents with Immigrant Background,” Journal of Social Psychology, vol. 140, no. 1, February. 30. Ada Finifter and Bernard M. Finifter, 1989, “Party Identification and Political Adaptation of American Migrants in Australia,” Journal of Politics, vol. 51, no. 3, August; Zvi Gitelman, 1982, Becoming Israelis: Political Resocialization and American Immigrants, New York: Praeger; cf. Eva Hamberg, 2000, Livsåskådningar religion och värderingar i en invandrargrupp. En studie av Sverigeungrare, Ceifo: Skriftserien nr. 85. 31. Tom W. Rice, and Jan L. Feldman, 1997, “Civic Culture and Democracy from Europe to America,” The Journal of Politics, vol. 59, no. 4, November.

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32. Jack Gray, in Archie Brown and Jack Gray (eds.), Political Culture and Political Change in Communist States, London and New York, 265. 33. Stephen White, 1984, “Soviet Political Culture Reassessed,” in Archie Brown and (ed.), Political Culture and Communist Studies, London: St Anthony’s /Macmillan Series, 77. 34. Stephen Whitefield and Geoffrey Evans, 1999, “Political Culture versus Rational Choice: Explaining Responses to Transition in the Czech Republic and Slovakia,” British Journal of Political Science, vol. 29, no. 1, January. 35. Reisinger, et al., “Political Values in Russia, Ukraine, and Lithuania,” 183–223. 36. Inkeles and Smith, 1974, Becoming Modern, 9. 37. Alexis de Tocqueville, 1848(1969), Democracy in America, New York: Doubleday Anchor Press; Robert, N. Bellah et al., 1985, Habits of the Heart. Individualism and Commitment in American Life, Berkeley: University of California Press. 38. Brown and Gray (eds.), Political Culture and Political Change in Communist States, 9, Brown, “Introduction,” 2. 39. Eckstein, “Social Science as Cultural Science, Rational Choice as Metaphysics,” 31. 40. See Wildawsky, “Choosing Preferences by Constructing Institutions,” 3–21; also Michael Thompson, Richard Ellis, and Aaron Wildawsky, 1990, Cultural Theory, Boulder: Westview Press. 41. Thompson, Ellis, and Wildawsky, 1990, Cultural Theory, 216. 42. Robert, D. Putnam, 1993, Making Democracy Work. Civic Traditions in Modern Italy, Princeton: Princeton University Press; Putnam, Bowling Alone. 43. Rice and Feldman, 1997, “Civic Culture and Democracy from Europe to America.” 44. For example, Brown, and Gray (eds.), Political Culture and Political Change in Communist States, 8–9; Mary McCauley, 1984, “Political Culture and Communist Politics: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back,” Archie Brown (ed.), Political Culture and Communist Studies. In the same edited volume see also Stephen White, “Soviet Political Culture Reassessed.” 45. White, Stephen, 1984, “Soviet Political Culture Reassessed,”65. 46. Toivo Raun, 1997, “Estonia: Independence Redefined,” in Ian Beemer and Ray Tares (eds.), New States, New Politics. Building the Post-Soviet Nations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 406. 47. Mrs. Leida Marley, the person in question, deserves much gratitude for constantly helping the “team” while they were in Toronto, not only in overcoming the initial threshold of distrust and reluctance, which proved a tough task, but also for her assistance in practical and social matters. 48. For one of the best volumes on political participation and its determinants see Sidney Verba, Kay Lehman Schlozman, Henry E.Brady, 1995, Voice and Equality: Civic Voluntarism in American Politics, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. 49. Sven Reinans, 1986, “Balterna i Sverige—några demografiska aspekter,” De första båtflyktingarna. En antologi om balterna i Sverige, Stockholm: Statens Invandrarverk, 70 (my translation). Cf. Raimo Raag and Virve Raag, 1992, Över stormande hav/

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Üle tormise mere. Estniskt liv och leverne i Kumla 1944–1991, Örebro: Örebro Läns Museum, 39. 50. Bernhard Kangro, 1976, Estland i Sverige, Lund: Eesti Kirjanike Kooperativ, 42; cf. Reinans, “Balterna i Sverige—några demografiska aspekter.” 51. Reinans, Sven, “Balterna i Sverige—några demografiska aspekter,” 72 (my translation). 52. Kangro, Estland i Sverige, 42. 53. Kangro, Estland i Sverige, 42 (my translation). 54. McCauley, Mary, 1984, “Political Culture and Communist Politics: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back”, Archie Brown (ed.), Political Culture and Communist Studies, London: St Anthony’s/Macmillan Series McAuley, 16. 55. McCauley, Mary, “Political Culture and Communist Politics,” 16. 56. Eckstein, Regarding Politics. Essays on Political Theory, Stability, and Change, 268. 57. The in-depth interviews were mainly conducted by the research assistants Annika Tamra and Sofie Holmström, who have both been of tremendous help in making this study possible. The Canadian exiles have unfortunately been left out of the in-depth interviews, since it proved practically impossible to return once more to Canada after the original survey had been made. 58. Ken Plummer, 2001, “The Call of Life Stories in Ethnographic Research,” in Paul Atkinson, Amanda Coffey, Sara Delmont, John Lof land and Lyn Lof land (eds.), Handbook of Ethnography, London: Sage; D. Jean Clandinin and F. Michaek Connelly, 2000, Narrative Inquiry. Experience and Story in Qualitative Research, San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. 59. Maurice Halbwachs, 1981 (1950), The Collective Memory, New York and Cambridge: Harper and Row; James Booth, 1999, “Communities of Memory: On Identity, Memory and Debt,” American Political Science Review, vol. 93, no., 2; Bo Rothstein, 2000, “Trust, Social Dilemmas and Collective Memories,” Journal of Theoretical Politics, vol. 12, no. 4. Cf. Smith M. Rogers, 2003, Stories of Peoplehood. The Politics and Morals of Political Membership, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 60. Kjell Bergman and Berith Jakobsson, 1984, Ester i Göteborg. Om identitetens bevekelsegrunder, Göteborg: Etnologiska institutionen, 61. 61. Anu Narusk, 1995, Every-Day Life and Radical Social Changes in Estonia. A Sociological-Empirical Overview of Changes in Estonian’s Life Values, Attitudes, Living Conditions and Behavior during the Transition from Soviet to Post-Soviet, Tallinn, 100.

Two


1. Estonia and the other Baltic states attracted the interest of contemporary journalists and “travellers” who wanted to see for themselves these small states at the crossroads of East and West. MacCallum Scott was a British journalist who visited Estonia’s capital Tallinn in 1925 and was struck by the city’s wild atmosphere as compared to the orderly Finnish capital Helsinki. About Tallinn (Reval) he wrote that “(t)he crazy walls, the unplanned, crooked streets, the anachronisms, the

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mediaeval smells, the antiquarian lumber of Reval are repugnant to Helsingfors, which is as spick and span as a motor-car.” See MacCallum A. Scott, 1925, Beyond the Baltic, London: Thornton Butterworth Limited, 248. Other journalists who wrote about the region were Hampden J. Jackson, Estonia (1948), London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd. and The Baltic 1940, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Owen Rutter published The New Baltic States and Their Future. An Account of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, London: Methuen & Co, Ltd. in 1925. Cf. the later description of Estonia by Alfred Bilmanis (1944) in “Grandeur and Decline of the German Balts,” The Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 22, no. 4: 50–80. 2. See Ants Oras, 1949, Slagskugga över Balticum, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 16; David M. Crowe, 1993, The Baltic States and the Great Powers. Foreign Relations 1938–1940, Boulder: Westview Press, 4–5; Walter Kolarz, 1953, Russia and Her Colonies, London: George Philip and Son Limited, 113. 3. Jackson, The Baltic. 4. Harry Eckstein, 1997, “Social Science as Cultural Science, Rational Choice as Metaphysics,” in Richard J. Ellis and Michael Thompson (eds.), Culture Matters. Essays in Honor of Aaron Wildawsky, Boulder: Westview Press, 31–32. 5. Robert D. Putnam, 2000, Bowling Alone. The Collapse and Revival of American Community, New York: Simon & Schuster, 48. 6. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. A complete list of interviewees is available from the author. 7. Interview 11, born 1917, Sweden. 8. Interview, 5, born 1925, Sweden. 9. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. After Estonian independence in 1991, no such explosion in civil society activities has occurred. Instead, the organizational passivity of Estonia as well as other states transiting from communism is one of the major drawbacks from a democratic point of view. See, e.g., Putnam, Bowling Alone, 25. 10. Interview 13, born 1924, Sweden. 11. See, e.g., Alex Inkeles, 1968, Social Change in Soviet Russia, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, for an analysis of the Russian mentality. 12. Bilmanis, “Grandeur and Decline of the German Balts,” 56. 13. Andrejs Plakans, 1974, “Peasants, Intellectuals and Nationalism in the Russian Baltic Provinces, 1820–90,” The Journal of Modern History, March–December, 459; Michael H. Haltzel, 1981, “The Baltic Germans,” in Edward C. Thaden Thaden (ed.), Russification in the Baltic Provinces and Finland 1855–1914, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 111. 14. Nicholas Hope, 1994, “Interwar Statehood: Symbol and Reality,” in Graham Smith (ed.), The Baltic States. The National Self-Determination of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, London: Macmillan Press, 47. 15. Juhan Kahk and Enn Tarvel, 1997, An Economic History of the Baltic Countries, Stockholm: Almquist & Wiksell, 107. 16. John Gibbons, 1939, Keepers of the Baltic Gates, London: Robert Hale Ltd, 158. 17. Rutter, The New Baltic States and Their Future, 244. 18. Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden.

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19. Expressive as opposed to egoistic or selfish individualism is used by Robert Bellah and his associates (1985). 20. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. 21. Marju Lauristin and Peeter Vihalemm (eds.), 1997, Return to the Western World. Cultural and Political Perspectives on the Estonian Post-Communist Transition, Tartu: Tartu University Press, 271. 22. Swedish egalitarianism was also a barrier to individual achievement, Aino points out. The refugees from Estonia were taken care of, but if someone as a result of education and hard work managed to rise socially, the Swedes were not so kind anymore. “You noticed the jealousy.” Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden. 23. Interview 8, 1924, Sweden. 24. Interview 8, 1924, Sweden. 25. Interviews 5, 6, 7 and 8. 26. Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden. 27. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. 28. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. By “balt” she is referring to the Baltic German group, not people of a general Baltic origin. 29. Interview 2, born 1922, Estonia. 30. Interview 5, born 1925, Sweden, cf. interview 4, born 1922, Estonia. However, the teachers were quite authoritarian. 31. Interview 3, born 1924, Estonia. 32. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. 33. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. 34. Interviews 3, 4. 35. Interview 2, born 1922, Estonia. 36. Interview 5, born 1925, Sweden. 37. Hampden J. Jackson, 1940, The Baltic, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 237. 38. Erik Nerep, 2001, “Från en union till en annan—Estlands rättsliga dilemma,” i Bernitz, Ulf, Sverker Gustavsson, Lars Oxelheim (eds.), Europaperspektiv 2001. Östutvidgning, majoritetsbeslut och flexibel integration, Göteborg: Santerús förlag, 62. 39. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. 40. Jackson, The Baltic, 237. 41. Interview 7, born 1917, Sweden. 42. Interviews 1, 2, 3, 4. 43. Written recollections of “vanaisa” (grandfather), anonymous. Owned by the author. 44. Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden; interview 9, born 1920, Sweden; and interview 14, born 1924, Sweden. 45. Interview 5, 1925, Sweden. 46. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. 47. Interview 7, born 1917, Sweden and interview 9, 1920, Sweden. 48. Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden. 49. The high esteem of education can also be noticed in the Estonian communities in exile, which has been analyzed as an indication of the upward social mobility

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of this ethnic group. Immediately after arriving in Sweden, or in the Displaced persons camps (DP) in Germany, the Estonians started schooling activities and study circles. Estonian children of a working-class origin have also been overrepresented among those with a higher education, “Ester” i Ingvar Svanberg and Harald Runblom (eds.), Det mångkulturella Sverige. En handbok om etniska grupper och minoriteter, Stockholm: Gidlunds förlag, 60. “Education was valued in itself. I have felt that myself with my daughters since I became a widow early in life and suffered economic hardships, but that the girls should finish high school and continue after that; it was never even questioned. It is some mysterious cultural peculiarity,” says Eva in interview 9. 50. See, e.g., Gabriel Almond and Sidney Verba, 1963, The Civic Culture. Political Attitudes and Democracy in Five Nations, New Jersey: Princeton University Press; Harry Eckstein, 1966, Division and Cohesion in Democracy: A Study of Norway, Princeton: Princeton University Press; James Coleman, 1960, The Adolescent Society, New York: The Free Press; Uri Brofenbrenner, 1970, Two Worlds of Childhood, New York: Russell Sage Foundation. 51. Interview 3, born 1924, Estonia. 52. Interviews 8, 9, and 10. 53. Interview 4, born 1922, Estonia. In interview 15, hard work and individual initiative as one of the dominating norms in school (as well as in the family) returns. 54. Interview 3, 1924, Estonia; interview 2, 1922, Estonia. 55. Interview 11, born 1917, Sweden. 56. Interview 10, born 1919, Sweden. 57. Sebastian Haffner notices time and again in his memoirs from Germany under the 1930s the importance played by the publicly displayed nationalism and anti-Semitism of the Nazis. There was recurrent marching in the streets, torches, singing, and f lags. Geschicte eines Deutschen. Die Erinnerungen 1914–1933, in Swedish translation, 2003. 58. See, e.g., interviews 1,3,5,6,7. 59. Interview 1, born 1916, Estonia. 60. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. 61. Interview 3, born 1924, Estonia. 62. Interview 11, born 1917, Sweden. 63. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. 64. Interview 7, born 1917, Sweden. 65. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. 66. Interview 10, born 1919, Sweden. 67. The ethnic relations in post-Communist Estonia (and also Latvia) have attracted consideable interest. See, e.g., Juan L. Linz and Alfred Stepan, 1996, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, Chapter 20; Paul Kolstoe, 1995, Russians in the Former Soviet Republics, London: Hurst and Company; Aili Aarelaid-Tart, 2006, Cultural Trauma and Life Stories, Helsinki: Kikimora Publications; Jeff Chinn and Robert Kaiser, 1996, Russians as the New Minority. Ethnicity and Nationalism in the Soviet Successor States, Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press; Rein Ruutsoo, 2002, “Discursive Conf lict and Estonian Post-Communist Nation-Building,” in Marju Lauristin and

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Mati Heidmets (eds.), The Challenge of the Russian Minority. Emerging Multicultural Democracy in Estonia, Tartu: Tartu University Press; Vello Pettai and Klara Hallik, 2002, “Understanding Processes of Ethnic Control: Segmentation, Dependency and Co-operation in Post-Communist Estonia,” Nations and Nationalism, vol. 8, no. 4: 505–529. 68. Aarelaid-Tart, Cultural Trauma and Life Stories, 197. 69. Interview 7, born 1917, Sweden. 70. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. In response to a question regarding relations with the Russians, the respondent Eva also explains that the present-day situation in Estonia is quite different, since these days the Russians stubbornly refuse to learn the Estonian language whereas, at that time, the Russians did not exhibit such an attitude but were “generous, or broad-minded and wise.” 71. Interview 9, 1920, Sweden. 72. Interview 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13. 73. Interview 5, born 1925, Sweden. 74. Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden. 75. Interview 10, born 1919, Sweden. 76. Interview 11, born 1917, Sweden. 77. Interview 12, born 1924, Sweden. 78. Cf., e.g., Jonas Linde, 2004, Doubting Democrats? A Comparative Analysis of Support for Democracy in Central and Eastern Europe, Örebro: Örebro Studies in Political Science 10, Chapters five and six. 79. For an extensive study on the political impact of the Veterans during the 1930s see Andres Kasekamp, 2000, The Radical Right in Interwar Estonia, London: Macmillan. 80. Hope, “Interwar Statehood: Symbol and Reality.” 81. Interview 1, born 1916, Estonia. 82. Interview 4, born 1922, Estonia. 83. Interview 8, born 1924, Sweden. 84. Lennart Weibull and Sören Holmberg,1997, “Two Young Democracies and an Old One,” in Lauristin and Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World. 85. It was after this coup that the Communist party was banned in Estonia. 86. Interview 3, 1924, Estonia. Evi does not like to speak about her father’s Communist background, or about the shootings. This is still sensitive information. 87. Again, Latvia followed a similar path and declared a state of emergency in spring 1934. In Lithuania, democracy survived only from 1920 to 1926, six years. 88. The VAPS was an organization of veterans from World War I which benefited in their propaganda from the executive weakness that signified the political system at the time. 89. Kasekamp, The Radical Right in Interwar Estonia, 154–155. 90. Jan-Åke Dellenbrant 1991, “The Re-Emergence of Multi-Partism in the Baltic States,” in Sten Berglund and Jan-Åke Dellenbrant (eds.), The New Democracies in Eastern Europe. Party Systems and Political Cleavages, Aldershot:Edward Elgar, 81–82. 91. Rein Ruutsoo, 2002, Civil Society and Nation Building in Estonia and the Baltic States. Impact of Traditions on Mobilization and Transition 1986–2000—Historical and Sociological Study, Rovaniemi: Acta Universitatis Lapponiensis, 59.

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92. Georg Von Rauch, 1970,The Baltic States. The Years of Independence. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania 1917–1940, London: Hurst and Company, 156. 93. Von Rauch, 1970, The Baltic States; David J. Smith, 2003,“Estonian Independence and European Integration,” The Baltic States Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, London: Routledge, 19–20. 94. The literature on the breakdown of democracies in Europe in the period between the two world wars is huge. A book that takes up the question of why some democracies survived during these troublesome years while others succumbed is Gerard Alexander, 2002, The Sources of Democratic Consolidation, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. 95. Interview 5, born 1925, Sweden. 96. Interview 5, born 1925, Sweden, interview 6, 1924, Sweden. 97. Interview 7, born 1917, Sweden, cf. interview 9, 1920, Sweden. 98. Interview 11, born 1917, Sweden. 99. Bo Rothstein, 2003, Sociala fällor och tillitens problem, Stockholm: SNS förlag.

Three Multicultural Canada and the Welfare State Sweden: Home to Estonians in Exile 1. Arvo Horm, 1961, “Estonians in the Free World,” in Evald Uustalu (ed.), Aspects of Estonian Culture, London: Boreaus Publishing Co., 287. 2. See, e.g., the statistics in Ronald Inglehart, 1997, Modernization and PostModernization. Cultural, Economic and Political Change in 43 Societies, Princeton: Princeton University Press. 3. J.L. Granatstein and Sune Åkerman (eds.), 1994, Welfare States in Trouble: Historical Perspectives on Canada and Sweden, Swedish-Canadian Academic Foundation; Per Bauhn, Christer Lindberg, and Svante Lundberg, 1995, Multiculturalism and Nationhood in Canada, Lund: Lund University Press. 4. J.L. Granatstein, 1994, “Canadian Social Policy: From Laissez-Faire to Safety Net to . . . ?” in Granatstein and Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 123. 5. Jack Quarter, 1992, Canada’s Social Economy. Co-operatives, Non-profits and other Community Enterprises, Toronto: James Loriman & Company. 6. Karl Aun, 1985, The Political Refugees. A History of the Estonians in Canada, Toronto: McClelland & Stewart Ltd., 57. 7. Emil Uddhammar, 1993, Partierna och den stora staten. En analys av statsteorier och svensk politik under 1900-talet, Stockholm: City University Press; Brian Palmer, 2000, Wolves at the Door: Existential Solidarity in a Globalizing Sweden, Harvard: Harvard University Press; Cecilia Garme, 2001, Newcomers to Power: How to Learn to Sit on Somebody else’s Throne, Uppsala Universitet: Department of Government. 8. Freda Hawkins, 1989, Critical Years of Immigration: Canada and Australia Compared, Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 9. Joy Cohnstaedt, 1992, Multiculturalism and Canadian Culture and Communication Policies, The Nordic Association for Canadian Studies Text Series, volume 4, 2. 10. Hawkins, Critical Years of Immigration.

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11. Cohnstaedt, Multiculturalism and Canadian Culture and Communication Policies, volume 4, 2. 12. Hawkins, Critical Years of Immigration. 13. Cohnstaedt, Multiculturalism and Canadian Culture and Communication Policies, volume 4, 12; Varpu Lindström, 1994, “The Development of Multicultural Policy in Canada,” in Granatstein and Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 45. 14. Hawkins, Critical Years of Immigration. 15. Charles Taylor, 1989, Sources of the Self. The Making of Modern Identity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, where he discusses the importance of identity and recognition in modern societies. 16. This text often relies on the work by Karl Aun, one of the Estonians in Canada, who was part of the multicultural effort at acknowledging ethnic histories. 17. Lindström, “The Development of Multicultural Policy in Canada,” in Granatstein and Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 48. 18. A potentially unfortunate consequence of a policy of multiculturalism, discussed mainly among political philosophers and theorists, is that the ideas behind multiculturalism tend to lead to the cornerstone of liberal democracy—the individualistic foundation of rights—being replaced by a more doubtful and blurred rights system. Cf. Brian Barry, 2000, Culture and Equality. An Egalitarian Critique of Multiculturalism, Cambridge: Polity Press; Will Kymlicka, 1995, Multicultural Citizenship, Oxford: Oxford University Press. 19. Robert N. Bellah et al., 1985, Habits of the Heart. Individualism and Commitment in American Life, Berkeley: University of California Press, 153. Cf. the concept “collective memory,” which today is quite fashionable but basically identifies the same phenomenon: that shared memories tend to bind people together occasionally with the effect of facilitating collective action. 20. Bellah et al., 1985, Habits of the Heart. 21. Karin Borevi, 2002, Välfärdsstaten i det mångkulturella samhället, Department of Government: Uppsala University, on the logics of ethnos and demos (in par ticular Chapter 1). A similar topic is addressed by Juan L. Linz, and Alfred Stepan, 1996, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation. Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, on the chapter on the clashing nation-building and democracy-building logics played out in Estonia and Latvia after the second independence in 1991 (Chapter 20). 22. Freda, Hawkins, Critical Years of Immigration. 23. John W. Berry, Rudolf Kalin, and Donald M. Taylor, 1977, Multiculturalism and Ethnic Attitudes in Canada, Ottawa: Minister of Supply and Services, 223. 24. Lindström, “The Development of Multicultural Policy in Canada,” in Granatstein and Åkerman, (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 48, 46. 25. Uddhammar, Partierna och den stora staten. En analys av statsteorier och svensk politik under 1900-talet; Garme, Newcomers to Power; cf. Torsten Svensson, 1994, Socialdemokratins dominans. En studie av den svenska socialdemokratins partistrategi, Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis (diss.). 26. Torsten Svensson, 2001, Marknadsanpassningens politik. Den svenska modellens förändring 1980–2000, Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis; Paula Blomqvist and

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Bo Rothstein, 2000, Välfärdsstatens nya ansikte. Demokrati och marknadsreformer inom den offentliga sektorn, Stockholm: Agora. 27. In the extensive literature on the roots and types of welfare states, the Swedish case falls into the social-democratic category, mainly since social allowances includes everyone (regardless of previous work life affiliation); the principle of universalism as opposed to selectivity has been a guiding star and benefits and rights are connected to the individual, not the family or household. Gösta Esping-Andersen, 1990, Three Worlds of Welfare Capitalism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; cf. Paul Pierson, 2000, “Three Worlds of Welfare State Research,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 33, no 6/7, August–September, 791–821. 28. Eva Lithman Lundberg, 1987, Immigration and Immigrant Policy in Sweden, Stockholm: Svenska institutet, 7; Borevi, Välfärdsstaten i det mångkulturella samhället, 151, 73–85. 29. Lithman Lundberg, Immigration and Immigrant Policy in Sweden, 10. 30. Dag Blanck and Mattias Tydén, 1994, “Becoming Multicultural? The Development of a Swedish Immigrant Policy,” in Granatstein and Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 54. 31. See, e.g., Thomas Gür, 1996, Staten och nykomlingarna. En studie av den svenska invandrarpolitikens idéer, Stockholm: City University Press; Blanck and Tydén, “Becoming Multicultural? The Development of a Swedish Immigrant Policy,” in Granatstein and Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 62–63; Borevi, Välfärdsstaten i det mångkulturella samhället, 151. 32. Surprisingly enough, the Estonian group’s demand for cultural autonomy and integration rather than assimilation was treated quite favorably by the Swedish authorities at the time. For example, the Estonians established their own schools; a privilege that had been denied to other ethnic or religious groups, and was regarded in stark contrast to the Swedish attempts toward egalitarianism and social integration through the school system. 33. Blanck and Tydén, 1994, “Becoming Multicultural? The Development of a Swedish Immigrant Policy,” in Granatstein and Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 57, Lithman Lundberg, Immigration and Immigrant Policy in Sweden, 10. For thorough analyses of the ideas and objectives behind Swedish immigrant policy, see Thomas Gür, Staten och nykomlingarna. En studie av den svenska invandrarpolitikens idéer. 34. Blanck and Tydén, “Becoming Multicultural? The Development of a Swedish Immigrant Policy,” in Granatstein & Sune Åkerman (eds.), Welfare States in Trouble, 64. 35. Pieter Bevelander, Benny Carlsson, and Mauricio Rojas, 1997, I krusbärslandets storstäder. Om invandrare i Stockholm, Göteborg och Malmö, Stockholm: SNS förlag, 193; cf. Christer Lundh et al., 2002, Arbete? Var god dröj!, Stockholm: SNS förlag, for a comprehensive overview of the state of immigration research and empirical results. 36. Per Adman and Per Strömblad, 2000, Utanför demokratin? Del 3. Resurser för politisk integration, Integrationsverkets rapportserie,16; Per Strömblad, 2003, Politik på

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stadens skuggsida, Uppsala Universitet: Skrifter utgivna av Statsvetenskapliga föreningen, 152. 37. Lundh, Arbete? Var god dröj!. This tendency was already visible in the 1990s. Thomas Gür and Jonas Hellman, 1996, En stjälpande hand—om invandrarföretagares villkor i Sverige, Stockholm: Ekonomifakta, 10; Pieter Bevelander, Benny Carlsson, and Mauricio Rojas, 1997, I krusbärslandets storstäder. Om invandrare i Stockholm, Göteborg och Malmö, Stockholm: SNS förlag. 38. See Thomas and Hellman, 1996, En stjälpande hand—om invandrarföretagares villkor i Sverige, for such a view. For an analysis with a broader perspective, see R. Light and Parminder Bachau, 1993, Immigration and Entrepreneurship: Culture, Capita and Ethnic Networks, New Brunswick, N.J: Transaction Publishers. 39. Aun, The Political Refugees. A History of the Estonians in Canada, 57. 40. Lithman Lundberg, Immigration and Immigrant Policy in Sweden, 7. 41. Raimo Raag and Harald Runblom (eds.), 1988, Estländare i Sverige. Historia, språk, kultur, Uppsala: Uppsala Multiethnic Papers 12, 9. 42. Told in written recollections by L. Sild, Toronto, to the author. 43. Raimo Raag, 1988/1990, “Ester,” in Ingvar Svanberg and Harald Runblom (eds.), Det mångkulturella Sverige. En handbook om etniska grupper och minoriteter, Stockholm: Gidlunds, Centrum för multietnisk forskning vid Uppsala universitet, 59. 44. See Karl Aun, 1985, The Political Refugees, 20. The United States of America also admitted a large number of Estonians under the Displaced Persons Act. See Jaan Pennar (with Tõnu Parming and P. Peter Rebane), 1975, The Estonians in America 1627–1975. A Chronology and Fact Book, New York: Oceana Publications Inc, 31. 45. Bernhard Kangro, 1976, Estland i Sverige, Lund: Eesti Kirjanike Kooperativ, 44 (my translation); Anders Berge, 1992, Flyktingpolitik i stormakts skugga. Sverige och de sovjetryska flyktingarna under andra världskriget, Uppsala: Centre for Multiethnic Research, 99. 46. Helga Kestell, 1991, “Estländare” (my translation), Bror-Erik Ohlsson and Ingrid Kuldvere Ungerson, Nybyggare i folkhemmet. Invandrarminnen från Norra Södermanland, Stadsarkivet, Eskilstuna: Lokalhistoriska sällskapet i Norra Södermanland. 47. The period after World War II ended was for Sweden a sensitive one, since the intentions of the Soviet Union was not really known and Sweden was not officially allied with any great power. Cf. Caroline Taube, 2001, Constitutionalism in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. A Study in Comparative Constitutional Law, Uppsala: Iustus förlag, 34. 48. Taube, Constitutionalism in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, 34. 49. Kangro, Estland i Sverige (my translation), 44. 50. Berge, Flyktingpolitik i stormakts skugga, 35–36. 51. Aun, The Political Refugees, 26. 52. After the failed revolt in Hungary in 1956, Sweden behaved in a similarly selective way when accepting Hungarian refugees. An intellectual elite group of individuals were chosen, that is, those believed to be of use to the Swedish state (and society). See Mari-Ann Karupää, 1994, En koffert i Tallinn. Estniska pensionärer i Stockholm, FOU-rapport 1994: 4, 11.

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53. Hawkins, Critical Years of Immigration: Canada and Australia Compared, 38. 54. Milda Danys, 1986, DP: Lithuanian Immigration to Canada after the Second World War, Toronto: Toronto Multicultural Historical Society of Ontario, 76. 55. Aun, The Political Refugees, 22–23. 56. Written recollections of “Vanaisa,” anonymous. Owned by the author. 57. Aun, The Political Refugees, 143. 58. Aun, The Political Refugees, 147. 59. Karupää, En koffert i Tallinn. Estniska pensionärer i Stockholm, 4, 3. 60. Raag, Raimo, 1999, Från allmogemål till nationalspråk: Språkvård och språkpolitik i Estland från 1857 till 1999, Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 291. 61. Raag, “Ester,” in Ingvar Svanberg och Harald Runblom (eds.), Det mångkulturella Sverige. En handbok om etniska grupper och minoriteter, 60. 62. Personal communication, David Papp, Stockholm, November 27, 2005. 63. Kerstell, “Estländare” (my translation), Bror-Erik Ohlsson and Ingrid Kuldvere Ungerson, Nybyggare i folkhemmet. Invandrarminnen från Norra Södermanland, 55–56. 64. Raag, “Ester,” in Ingvar Svanberg och Harald Runblom (eds.), Det mångkulturella Sverige. En handbok om etniska grupper och minoriteter, 60; Gür, Staten och nykomlingarna, 86, cf. Ann M. Walko, 1989, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis. Maintaining Estonian Ethnicity in Lakewood, New Jersey, New York: AMS Press, 135. 65. Walko, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis, 135. 66. Kristel Karu, 1997, Ethnic Identity in Different Contexts and Generations: The Case of Estonians in Estonia and Sweden, Tartu University (unpublished masters thesis), 46. 67. Walko, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis, 124. 68. Told in written recollections by L. Sild, Toronto, to the author. 69. Cf. Karupää, En koffert i Tallinn. Estniska pensionärer i Stockholm: 4, 17. 70. Raag, “Ester,” in Ingvar Svanberg och Harald Runblom (eds.), Det mångkulturella Sverige. En handbok om etniska grupper och minoriteter, 60. 71. Kjell Bergman and Berith Jakobsson, 1984, Ester i Göteborg. Om identitetens bevekelsegrunder, Göteborg: Etnologiska institutionen; Raag, 1999, Från allmogemål till nationalspråk, 292; cf. Walko, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis, 120. 72. For example, Horm, “Estonians in the Free World,” Evald Uustalu (ed.), Aspects of Estonian Culture, 292. The Swedish policy with respect to private schools or schools with a religious or ethnic affiliation was very restrictive until the beginning of the 1990s, when a definite sea change took place. But besides the Estonian school, a few other early examples exist, such as the Jewish Hillel-school in Stockholm. Borevi, Välfärdsstaten i det mångkulturella samhället: 151, 189. 73. Horm, “Estonians in the Free World,” in Evald Uustalu (ed.), Aspects of Estonian Culture; cf. Fyrtio år i Sverige. Estniska Kommittén 1944–1984, 1984, Andres Küng (ed.), Stockholm: Estniska Kommittén, 14. 74. The fact that Estonians have been a well-organized group is confirmed by many sources. Blanck and Tydén, “Becoming Multicultural?,” 59; Karupää, 1994, En

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koffert i Tallinn. Estniska pensionärer i Stockholm: 4, 48. Karupää interviewed forty Estonian senior citizens in Sweden, all about eighty years old. Of these, thirty-one were members of organizations and active, and twenty-six of those in Estonian associations. 75. See chapter two, page 25. 76. Horm, “Estonians in the Free World,” in Evald (ed.), Aspects of Estonian Culture. 77. Cf. the American Estonians described in Walko, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis, 134. 78. Karu, Ethnic Identity in Different Contexts and Generations, 48. 79. Both Walko, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis and Karu, 1997, Ethnic Identity in Different Contexts and Generations find a positive correlation between level of education and ethnic identity in immigrant communities, including the Estonian. The higher the education, the stronger the ethnic feelings. 80. Kjell Bergman and Berith Jakobsson, 1984, Ester i Göteborg. Om identitetens bevekelsegrunder, Göteborg: Etnologiska institutionen, 70. 81. Aun, The Political Refugees, 155. 82. Walko, Rejecting the Second Generation Hypothesis, 111.

Four The Exile Communities: A Surprising Gap in Civicness 1. Kjell Bergman and Berith Jakobsson, 1984, Ester i Göteborg. Om identitetens bevekelsegrunder, Göteborg: Etnologiska institutionen; Karl Aun, 1985, The Political Refugees. A History of the Estonians in Canada, Toronto: McClelland & Stewart Ltd. 2. Gabriel Almond and Sidney Verba, 1963, The Civic Culture. Political Attitudes and Democracy in Five Nations, New Jersey, Princeton: Princeton University Press. For interesting discussions on the need for a balance between subcultures, see, Harry Eckstein, 1998, Lessons for the “Third Wave” from the First. An Essay on Democratisation, available at the Center for the Study of Democracy, UC Irvine’s homepage www. democ.uci.edu/democ/papers/lessons.htm. 3. For an illustrative example, see Tom W. Rice and Jan L. Feldman, 1997, “Civic Culture and Democracy from Europe to America,” The Journal of Politics, vol. 59, no. 4, November. 4. Cf. Eckstein, Lessons for the “Third Wave” from the First, who writes that “(d) emocratic political culture coexists, and probably is based on, a more general culture, in which major themes are (a) high social trust and (b) what might be called ‘civicness’: the tendency to act ‘horizontally’ viz cooperatively, with others rather than ‘vertically’ through hierarchical relations, such as patron-client relationships.” 5. Olof Petersson et al., 1998, Demokrati och medborgarskap, Stockholm: SNS förlag, 129–132. 6. The three dimensions are observable when a dimensions analysis is done (principal components analysis with varimax rotation). Except for the last dimension,

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they are additive indexed variables. A detailed description of the original variables is found in the appendix. 7. WVS has been headed by professor Ronald Inglehart for many years. Today, the surveys involve research teams in many countries and are continuously expanded. The origins can be traced back to the beginning of the 1980s and the European Value Survey (EVS). 8. Cf. Ronald Inglehart, 1997, Modernization and Post-Modernization. Cultural, Economic, and Political Change in 43 Societies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Appendix. 9. Bo Rothstein, 2000, “Trust, Social Dilemmas and Collective Memories,” Journal of Theoretical Politics, vol. 12, no. 4; Eric M. Uslaner, 2002, The Moral Foundations of Trust, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 10. Missing data for the variable “if people in general can be trusted” is 30 people (261 out of 291 have answered). For the variable “if you trust inhabitants in your own country” missing data is 48 people (243 out of 291 have answered). This indexed variable is based on three questions, and missing data is most frequent for the question of whether you trust Estonians/Estonians in exile (41 people). All the analyses have also been done without including the question where the missing values are most frequent. The results do not differ in any substantial way from those reported earlier. It could further be stated that the four dimensions of trust are discernible when a dimensions analysis (principal components analysis with varimax rotation) is made. 11. These dimensions appear reasonably well when a dimensions analysis (principal components analysis with varimax rotation) is conducted. 12. Bo Rothstein, 2003, Sociala fällor och tillitens problem, Stockholm: SNS förlag, 189– 193; Kumlin Staffan and Bo Rothstein, 2005, “Making and Breaking Social Capital. The Impact of Welfare-State Institutions,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 38, no. 4, May. 13. The Canadian-Estonians’ support for the Canadian political system and public institutions is also touched upon, albeit through more impressionistic observations, in a history of the Estonians in Canada. Politicians were, e.g., regarded as naïve but not corrupt, and public programs were appreciated. Aun, The Political Refugees, 147. 14. In the statistical analysis, education, income, and gender have been controlled for and do not affect the correlation.

Five Did Civic Commitment Survive Communism? 1. Cultural Life in Soviet Estonia, 1977, 8. 2. Soviet Estonia, 1980, 58. 3. Alex Inkeles, 1968, Social Change in Soviet Russia, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, xii.

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4. Archie Brown, 1974, Soviet Politics and Political Science, London: Macmillan, in Archie Brown and Jack Gray (eds.), 1977/79, Political Culture and Political Change in Communist States, London and New York: Macmillan; Stephen White, 1979, Political Culture and Soviet Politics, London: Macmillan; Archie Brown (ed.), 1984, Political Culture and Communist Studies, London: St. Anthony’s/Macmillan Series. 5. Vera Dunham, 1976, In Stalin’s Time. Middleclass values in Soviet fiction, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; Mary McCauley, 1984, “Political Culture and Communist Politics: One Step Forward Two Steps Back,” in Archie Brown (ed.), 1984, Political Culture and Communist Studies; Martin McCauley, 1993, The Soviet Union 1917–1991 (second ed.), London: Longham Publishers. 6. Romuald Misiunas and Rein Taagepera, 1993, The Baltic States. Years of Dependence 1940–1990, London: Hurst and Company, 70–71. 7. Tõnu Parming and Elmar Järvesoo, 1978, A Case Study of a Soviet Republic. The Estonian SSR, Boulder: Colorado, Westview Press, 6; Walter Kolartz, 1953, Russia and Her Colonies, London: George Philip and Son Ltd, 112. 8. Cf. Mart Laar, 1992, War in the Woods. Estonia’s Struggle for Survival 1944–1956, Washington DC: The Compass Press, 53. 9. Kolartz, Walter, 1953, Russia and her Colonies, 108; Brian D. Silver, 1978, “Language Policy and the Linguistic Russification of Soviet Nationalities,” Jeremy R. Azreel (ed.), Soviet Nationality Policies and Practices, New York: Praeger Publishers, 250. Eders Wimbusch, 1978, “The Great Russians and the Soviet State: The Dilemmas of Ethnic Dominance,” in Azrael (ed.), Soviet Nationality Policies and Practices, 350. 10. Cf. Kolartz, Russia and Her Colonies, 108–109. 11. Misiunas and Taagepera, 1993, The Baltic States. Years of Dependence 1940–1990, 127. It should be noted that the author Rein Taagepera himself was an exile Estonian who had no reason to underestimate the role of the Diaspora. 12. See chapter three. 13. Laar, War in the Woods. Estonia’s Struggle for Survival 1944–1956. 14. For example, Jan-Åke Dellenbrant, 1991, “The Re-Emergence of Multi-Partism in the Baltic States,” in Sten Bergund and Jan-Åke Dellenbrant (eds.), The New Democracies in Eastern Europe. Party Systems and Political Cleavages, Aldershot: Edward Elgar, 84. 15. Misiunas and Taagepera, The Baltic States, 1993, 130. 16. Ole Norgaard (ed.), 1994, De baltiske lande efter uavhengigheten. Hvorfor så forskellige? Århus: Politica, 32. 17. Raymond A. Bauer, Alex Inkeles, and Clyde Kluckhon, 1957, How the Soviet System Works. Cultural, Psychological and Social Themes, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 214. 18. Amir Weiner, 2006, “The Empires Pay a Visit: Gulag Returnees, East European Rebellions, and Soviet Frontier Politics,” Journal of Modern History, 78, June: 333– 376. 19. In this respect, there was a crucial difference between Estonia and her Baltic neighbor Latvia, the consequences of which may provide a partial explanation

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for the greater difficulties Latvia experiences today in establishing functioning state structures and public administration. While the Estonian CommunistParty (CP) could continue to serve, albeit cautiously, as a safeguard and defender of Estonian interests against the Russian central government, the end of the 1950s witnessed a large purge of homegrown Latvian Communists within the Latvian CP. The central Party’s harsh reaction followed attempts by the Latvian CP to “latvianize” the party and establish stronger Latvian control over local industries. The 1959 purge placed Latvia in an even worse position than before, since it effectively erased the Latvian CP’s chances of defending Latvian interests. (Anatol Lieven, 1993, The Baltic Revolution. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence, New Haven: Yale University Press, 97; Misiunas and Taagepera, 1993, The Baltic States. Years of Dependence 1940–1990, 145–146). “Many Latvians attribute the caution of Latvian moves to independence, and the poor quality of much of the Latvian establishment in our own time, to the lingering effects of the purge of 1959–60,” writes Lieven (97). It is pointed out that the large purge affected not only the national but also the regional and municipal levels, and that several thousand indigenous Party representatives were excluded. “The pattern of disproportially low representation of nativeborn Latvians in leadership positions was parallelled at lower levels,” conclude Misiunas and Taagepera (146). 20. Dellenbrant, “The Re-Emergence of Multi-Partism in the Baltic States,” Sten Bergund and Jan-Åke Dellenbrant, (eds.), The New Democracies in Eastern Europe, 86; Toivo Raun, 1997, “Estonia: Independence Redefined,” in Ian Bremmer and Ray Taras (eds.), New States, New Politics. Building the Post-Soviet Nations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 410. 21. Seweryn Bialer, 1988, “The Conditions of Stability in the Soviet Union,” in Terry Thompson and Richard Sheldon (eds.), Soviet Society and Culture. Essays in Honor of Vera S. Dunham, Boulder: Westview Press, 256. 22. Inkeles, Social Change in Soviet Russia, 83. Cf. Aili Aarelaid-Tart, 2000, “Political Generations in Estonia: A Historical Background to the Formation of the Contemporary Political Scene,” in Janina Frentzel-Zagórska and Jacek Wasilewski (eds.), The Second Generation of Democratic Elites in Central and Eastern Europe, Warsawa: Institute of Political Studies, Polish Academy of Sciences. 23. Cf. Inkeles, Social Change in Soviet Russia, 79. 24. Raun, “Estonia: Independence Redefined,” in Ian Bremmer and Ray Taras, (eds.), New States, New Politics. Building the Post-Soviet Nations, 412. 25. Misiunas and Taagepera, The Baltic States. Years of Dependence 1940–1990, 195. 26. Cf. Archie Brown, 1974, Soviet Politics and Political Science, London: Macmillan. 27. In the exile communities, particularly in the Canadian settlement in Toronto, the issue of visits to occupied Estonia became quite an emotive issue, separating the Estonian groups into adversary camps for and against. Those taking a more liberal stand were accused of disloyalty by their adversaries, who claimed that they indirectly supported the occupation power with their visits. 28. Aun, The Political Refugees.

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29. For the expression “communities of memories” see Robert N. Bellah et al., 1985, Habits of the Heart. Individualism and Commitment in American Life, Berkeley: University of California Press. 30. Lieven, The Baltic Revolution. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence, 95. 31. Lieven, The Baltic Revolution. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence, 93. 32. Misiunas and Taagepera, The Baltic States. Years of Dependence 1940–1990, 244. 33. James R. Millar, 1988, “The Little Deal: Brezhnev’s Contribution to Acquisitive Socialism,” in Terry Thompson and Richard Sheldon (eds.), Soviet Society and Culture. Essays in Honor of Vera S. Dunham, Boulder: Westview Press, 6. 34. Misiunas and Taagepera, The Baltic States. Years of Dependence 1940–1990, 209. 35. Lieven, The Baltic Revolution. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and the Path to Independence, 97. 36. Tõnu Parming and Elmar Järvesoo, 1978, A Case study of a Soviet Republic. The Estonian SSR, Boulder: Colorado, Westview Press, xiii. 37. These three dimensions are observable when a dimensions analysis is conducted (principal components analysis with varimax rotation). Except for the last dimension, they are all additive indexed variables. A detailed description of the original variables is available on request. 38. Mikko Lagerspetz, Erle Rikmann, and Rein Ruutsoo, 2002, “The Structure and Resources of NGOs in Estonia,” Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations, vol. 13, no. 1, March, 73–87. 39. Marju Lauristin and Triin Vihalemm, 1997, “Estonian and Swedish Values,” in Marju Lauristin and Peter Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World. Cultural and Political Perspectives on the Estonian Post-Communist Transition, Estonia: Tartu University Press, 253. 40. Lennart Weibull and Sören Holmberg, 1997, “Two Young Democracies and an Old One,” in Lauristin and Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World, 216. 41. Peter Vihalemm, Marju Lauristin, and Ivar Tallo, 1997, “Development of Political Culture in Estonia,” in Lauristin and Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World, 199. 42. For an insightful analysis of the informal economy, see, Alena Ledeneva, 1998, Russia’s Economy of Favours: “Blat” Networking and Informal Exchange, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 43. Inkeles, Social Change in Soviet Russia, 181. 44. Anu Realo and Juri Allik, 1999, “A Cross-Cultural Study of Collectivism: A Comparison of American, Estonian, and Russian Students,” Journal of Social Psychology, vol. 139, no. 2: 133–143. 45. Lauristin and Vihalemm, “Estonian and Swedish Values,” in Lauristin and Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World, 256. 46. Not surprisingly, in the middle of the 1990s it is a small minority of Estonians who declared themselves to be “leftist” on a left-right scale, while a large percentage positioned themselves to the right. Weibull and Holmberg, “Two Young

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Democracies and an Old One,” in Lauristin and Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World, 224. 47. Triin Vihalemm, 1997, “Changing Discourses on Values in Estonia,” in Lauristin and Vihalemm (eds.), Return to the Western World, 271. 48. See chapter two. 49. See Donna Bahry, Cynthia Boaz, and Stacy Gordon Burnett, 1997, “Tolerance, Transitions and Support for Civil Liberties in Russia,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 30, no. 4, August; James, L. Gibson, 1996, “A Mile Wide But an Inch Deep (?): The Structure of Democratic Commitments in the Former USSR,” American Journal of Political Science, vol. 40, no. 2, May. 50. For Estonia and the other Baltic states, Richard Rose’s repeated Baltic Barometers are invaluable sources. New Baltic Barometer I–IV, (1992, 1995, 1996, 2000), Studies in Public Policy, Centre for the Study of Public Policy, University of Strathclyde. 51. Richard Rose, William Mishler, Christian Haerpfer, 1998, Democracy and Its Alternatives. Understanding Post-Communist Societies, Oxford: Oxford University Press; see also Janos Kornai, Bo Rothstein, and Susan Rose-Ackerman (eds.), 2004, Creating Social Trust in Post-Socialist Transition, London: Palgrave/Macmillan. 52. Åse B. Grodeland, Tatyana Koshechkina, William l. Miller, 1998, “Foolish to Give and Yet More Foolish not to Take—In-depth Interviews with PostCommunist Citizens on Their Everyday Use of Bribes and Contacts,” Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 50, no. 4. 53. For example, Eva Hoffman, 1993, Exit into History. A Journey through the New Eastern Europe, London: Vintage Publishers; Slavenka Drakulic, 1993, How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed, New York: Harpers Collins, for general and detailed analysis and descriptions of the everyday life under Communism. 54. Grodeland and Miller, 1998, “Foolish to Give and Yet More Foolish not to TakeIn-depth Interviews with Post-Communist Citizens on Their Everyday Use of Bribes and Contacts,” 660. 55. Multivariate regression analyses have been done consistently in the analysis. Gender, age, and the place of growth (rural or urban) have been controlled for. Generally, with a few exceptions, the results have not been affected by including these control variables; i.e., the effect of the “institutional context during adulthood” remains. 56. In short, political development and in particular the move toward democracy is seen as intimately connected to structural factors such as economic development and prosperity, the level of education, urbanization, and industrialization. Ronald Inglehart’s theory of economic aff luence, spread comparatively evenly across the population as a prerequisite for value change supportive of democratization, is a modern version of this. See, e.g., Ronald Inglehart and Christian Welzel, 2005, Modernization, Cultural Change, and Democracy. The Human Development Sequence, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, and Culture Shift in Advanced Industrial Society, Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. For an earlier and still highly inf luential classic see, Seymor Martin Lipset, 1960, Political Man: The Social Bases of Politics, New York: Doubleday.

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57. James Alexander, 1997, “Surveying Attitudes in Russia. A Representation of Formlessness,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies, vol. 30, no. 2; Bahry and Boaz, Burnett “Tolerance, Transitions and Support for Civil Liberties in Russia”; Gibson, James, L., 1996, “A Mile Wide But an Inch Deep (?): The Structure of Democratic Commitments in the Former USSR”, American Journal of Political Science, Vol. 40, No. 2, May. 58. Gibson, “A Mile Wide But an Inch Deep (?),” 417. 59. Kjell Bergman and Berith Jakobsson, 1984, Ester i Göteborg. Om identitetens bevekelsegrunder, Göteborg: Etnologiska institutionen, 64 (my translation). In a volume about Poles in American exile, similar sentiments are described concerning the alienation between the émigrés and those Poles who lived their lives in Communist Poland. Mary Patrice Erdmans, 1998, Opposite Poles. Immigrants and Ethnics in Polish Chicago, 1976–1990, University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 93–105. 60. In many of her essays, the Croatian writer Slavenka Drakulic analyzes the Communist experience from an everyday perspective, emphasizing how conditions and lives were shaped by the lack of heating and the bad fabric of available clothing. “I sat in many kitchens—because the kitchen was always the warmest room in the badly heated apartments—and listened to the fate of the women, cooked with them, drank coffee if they had any and heard them speak about their children and their husbands, of how they hoped to be able to buy a new fridge, a new stove or a new car (. . . ) Ours was trivial, we saw it from below. But the trivial is political.” Drakulic, Slavenka Drakulic, 1994, Hur vi överlevde kommunismen med ett leende på läpparna, Stockholm: Ordfront, 20 (my translation). English title: How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed (1993). For very insightful ref lections on the Communist era and the transition from Communist rule, see Hoffman, Exit into History.

Six


1. Agnis Balodis, 1986, “Baltutlämningen,” De första båtflyktingarna. En antologi om balterna i Sverige, Stockholm: Statens Invandrarverk. 2. Bernhard Kangro, 1976, Estland i Sverige, Lund: Eesti Kirjanike Kooperativ, 44–45; Raimo Raag and Virve Raag, 1992, Över stormande hav/Ule tormise mere. Estniskt liv och leverne i Kumla, Örebro: Örebro Läns Museum, 35. 3. Balodis, “Baltutlämningen,” 63 (my translation). 4. Raag and Raag, Över stormande hav/Ule tormise mere, 54. 5. Harry Eckstein, 1992, Regarding Politics. Essays on Political Theory, Stability, and Change, Berkeley: University of California Press, 276. 6. Harry Eckstein, 1997, “Social Science as Cultural Science, Rational Choice as Metaphysics,” in Richard J. Ellis and Michael Thompson (eds.), Culture Matters. Essays in Honor of Aaron Wildawsky, Boulder: Westview Press, 29.

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7. Admittedly, it is not clear whether a more general culture is referred to or whether the culture is identified as political culture. 8. Raimo Raag, 1988/1990, “Ester,” in Ingvar Svanberg and Harald Runblom (eds.), Det mångkulturella Sverige. En handbook om etniska grupper och minoriteter, Stockholm: Gidlunds, Centrum för multietnisk forskning vid Uppsala universitet, 60 (my translation). 9. Karl Aun, 1985, The Political Refugees. A History of the Estonians in Canada, Toronto: McClelland & Stewart Ltd., 22–23. 10. Interviews 8, 9, 10. 11. Interview born 8, 1924, Sweden. 12. Interview 6, born 1924, Sweden. 13. Interview 7, born 1917, Sweden. 14. Interview 9, born 1920, Sweden. 15. Henrik Berggren and Lars Trägårdh, 2006, Är svensken människa? Gemenskap och oberoende i det moderna Sverige, Stockholm: Norstedts. 16. Stephen Whitefield and Geoffrey Evans, 1999, “Political Culture versus Rational Choice: Explaining Responses to Transition in the Czech Republic and Slovakia,” British Journal of Political Science, vol. 29, no. 1, January: 153; cf. Larry Diamond, 1999, Developing Democracy towards Consolidation, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 164– 165. Almond, Gabriel, A., 1990, A Discipline Divided, Newbury Park, California: Sage, 149–150. 17. Steven Hitlin, 2003, “Values as the Core of Personal Identity: Drawing Links Between Two Theories of Self,” Social Psychology Quarterly, vol. 66, no. 2, 118– 137. 18. See Monika Ardelt, 2000, “Still Stable After All These Years? Personality Stability Theory Revisited,” Social Psychology Quarterly, vol. 63, no. 4, 392–405. Ardelt argues that earlier results on personality stability could be the effect of methodological artefacts to a considerable degree. In particular, she argues for the longitudinal investigation of the effect on personality of institutional change: “First, ideally, it would be most promising to study personality before and after unexpected, drastic changes in people’s social environments . . . ” (401). Her preferred design resembles the one in this study, except for the fact that “before” had to be analytically constructed rather than empirically measured, which no doubt is a limitation. 19. Toivo Raun, 1997, “Estonia: Independence Redefined,” in Ian Bremmer and Ray Taras, (eds.), New States, New Politics. Building the Post-Soviet Nations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 404. 20. Interview 14, Sweden. 21. See Archie Brown and Jack Gray (eds.), 1977/79, Political Culture and Political Change in Communist States, London and New York, 265. 22. John Miller, 1984, “Political Culture: Some Perennial Questions Reopened,” in Brown, (ed.), Political Culture and Communist Studies, 184–185; Almond, 1990, 148. 23. William M. Reisinger, Arthur H. Miller, and Vicki L. Hesli, 1995, “Public Behavior and Political Change in Post-Soviet States,” The Journal of Politics, vol. 57,

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no. 4, November 1995; Russell Dalton, 2000, “Citizen Attitudes and Political Behavior,” Comparative Political Studies, vol. 33, no. 6/7, August–September 2000, 915–916. Dalton concludes that the political cultural legacy of Communism seems to deviate strongly from the democratic apathy that prevailed after transitions from right-wing authoritarianism. 24. Aili Aarelaid-Tart, 2006, Cultural Trauma and Life Stories, Helsinki: Kikimora Publications, 160. 25. Interview 6. 26. Peter J. Richerson and Robert Boyd, 2005, Not by Genes Alone. How Culture Transformed Human Evolution, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. 27. Bo Rothstein, 2003, Sociala fällor och tillitens problem, Stockholm: SNS förlag, 240. 28. See Mikko Lagerspetz, 1996, Constructing Post-Communism. A Study in the Estonian Social Problems Discourse, Turku: Department of Sociology, 42 for discussion on civil society under socialism. 29. Interview 6. 30. I would like to express my gratitude to Marion Smiley and Bernard Myers for directing my attention to this interesting complexity in the discussion of adaptation and resocialization. .


R E F E R E NC E S

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I N DE X

Aarelaid-Tart, Aili, 40–41, 114 achievement orientation, 26, 31, 35–38, 97, 112, 115, 130 individual achievement and, 46, 64, 72–73, 95–98, 111 Act of the Preservation and Enhancement of Multiculturalism in Canada (1988), 51 adaptation, 1, 8, 11, 117–120, 148n16 age, 139, 166n55 Agrarian Law, Estonia (1919), 29 Agrarian Party (Sweden), 54 alienation, 3, 10, 41–47, 56, 76, 109. See also cultural dissonance Almond, Gabriel, 1, 6, 13, 70, 148n19 assault, 100, 101 assimilation, 55, 56–57, 158n32 associations, voluntary, 26–27, 34, 65–66, 86, 94. See also communalism Aun, Karl, 60, 62, 157n16 Australia, 69, 85, 93 authoritarianism, 44–45, 104, 116, 168–169n23 authority relations, 5, 14, 143 autonomy, personal, 71–72, 94, 115 Baltic Germans, 29, 33, 34, 39, 41, 77 Baltic States, 88, 91, 92. See also under Estonia; Latvia; Lithuania Barry, Brian, 6 barter economy, 104

behavior, goal-directed, 7 Bellah, Robert, 53, 153n19 Berge, Anders, 59 Berggren, Henrik, 112 biculturalism, 51 bilingualism, 51, 88 bivariate analysis, 144 blat system, 95, 98, 104 bounded reality, theory of, 7 bribery, 35, 102 Brown, Archie, 84–85 calculation, 8, 119 Canada, 74–75, 93 acceptance of displaced persons by, 59–63 Estonian refugees’ decision to leave for, 20, 57–59 as immigrant society, 50–53 immigration policies of, 61 liberalism of, 72, 112 materialism of, 110 multicultural policy of, 51–53, 108, 157n16, 157n18 political system of, 62, 63, 162n13 as welfare state, 49 Canadian-Estonians, 57–63, 76–77, 112 capitalism, 33 causal models, 16 censorship, 45 centralization, 92 China, 10–11

182

Index

choirs, 27, 28, 60, 66 citizenship, 93–95 civic commitment, 14, 83–105 citizenship and, 93–95 cultural expansion and, 89–93 egalitarianism and, 95–98 interpersonal responsibility and, 100–101 political efficacy and, 101–103 in Soviet Estonia, 83–89, 103–105 tolerance and, 98, 99–100 civic culture, 2, 10, 13–14, 69, 70–71 defined, 70 civic education, 37 civic orientations, 14, 69 civic values, 13, 75, 99, 122–130, 140–142 political interest and, 122–123 political virtues and, 124–125 solidarity and, 129–130 trust and, 126–128 civic virtues, 14, 70–71, 82, 93–94. See also political virtues civicness, 69–82, 108, 115, 161n4 democratic virtues and, 70, 71–72 egalitarianism and, 72–73 political efficacy and, 76–81, 82 trust and, 73–75 class, 64–65 collective memory, 46, 104, 116, 157n19 collectivization of agriculture, 86 communalism, 71–72, 86 in interwar Estonia, 26–28, 47, 60, 65, 98, 112 Communism, 10–11, 31, 83–105, 93. See also specific countries citizenship and, 93–95 cultural expansion and, 89–93 egalitarianism and, 95–98 Estonian repudiation of, 43, 83–84 interpersonal responsibility and, 100–101 political cultural legacy of, 168–169n23 political efficacy and, 101–103

in Soviet Estonia, 83–89, 103–105 tolerance and, 98, 99–100 Communist coup, Estonia (1924), 43, 155n85 Communist Party (CP) banned in Estonia after 1924 coup, 155n85 in Estonia and Latvia compared, 163–164n19 under-representation of Estonians in, 87 community commitment, 14, 70, 93 “community of memory,” 53, 90 Constitutional Assembly (Estonia), 29 control variables, 17, 122, 139, 166n55 cooperation, 13, 60 cooperative organization, 47, 86, 161n4. See also associations, voluntary coup, Estonia (1934), 44–46 crime, 100, 101 Cuba, 10–11, 113 cultural adaptation. See adaptation cultural autonomy, 40, 158n32 cultural consonance, 9–10, 109–110 cultural correspondence, 81–82, 109–111, 112 cultural dissonance, 9–10, 109–110. See also alienation cultural distance, 77, 81–82, 110, 112 cultural diversity, 55. See also multicultural policy of Canada cultural expansion, 89–93 Cultural Life in Soviet Estonia (anonymous), 84 cultural orientations, 12–13, 62, 77 cultural tolerance. See tolerance culturalism, 10, 97, 112, 119–120, 148n16, 148n19 defined, 3–4 early socialization and, 4, 9, 77–78, 81, 110 rationalism compared, 3, 6–7 culture. See also Estonian culture; political culture accumulated, 116

Index defined, 2, 12 popular, 4 private, 13 Czechoslovakia, 1968 Soviet invasion of, 90 Danys, Milda, 61 Dellenbrant, Jan-Åke, 44 democratic virtues, 70, 71–72, 93 democratization, 116, 166n56 depression, world (1930s), 35 dimensions analysis, 162n10, 162n11, 165n37 displaced persons (DP), 59–63 camps for, 20, 60, 153–154n49 double standards of Soviet system, 104, 115 double-think, 95, 96, 99 Douglas, Mary, 13 Dunham, Vera, 85 Durkheim, Emile, 6 early socialization, 28, 93, 112, 113–117, 148n19. See also under socialization culturalism and, 4, 9, 77–78, 81, 110 institutional change and, 107, 109 Eastern Europe, 10–11, 102, 113. See also specific countries Eckstein, Harry, 9, 12, 26, 161n4 culturalism and, 3–4, 6, 109–110 economic development, 166n56 state-led, 103 economy private, 95, 96 small-scale enterprises and, 46, 56, 86 education, 19, 35–38, 46, 62, 93, 103 ethnic identity and, 161n79 level of, 15, 166n56 respect for, 63, 153–154n49 in Soviet Estonia, 88–89 in Sweden, 54 welfare, 102 Eesti Maja (Estonian House) (Stockholm), 18, 65–66

183

Eesti Maja (Estonian House) (Toronto), 18, 65–66 Eesti Vabadussõjalaste Liit (Estonian War of Independence Veterans’ League), 43, 44 efficacy, political, 76–81, 82, 101–103, 126, 141 efficiency, 96–97 egalitarianism, 12–13, 32, 96–97, 112, 115 in Sweden, 31, 50, 65, 72, 153n22 vs. individualism, 72–73, 95–98 elections, 76, 103 employment, 61 enterprises, small-scale, 46, 56, 86 equal opportunity, 96, 97 equality, 30, 72, 96, 98, 111, 142 individualism and, 31 vs. freedom, 14 “era of silence,” 44 Estonia. See also Estonia, interwar (1918–1940); Estonia, postCommunist; Estonians; Soviet Estonia ethnic diversity of, 39 Latvia compared, 163–164n19 Nazi occupation of, 85 pre-independence, 29, 39 Estonia, interwar (1918–1940), 3, 5, 20–23, 25–47 achievement and, 35–38 communalism and, 26–28 culture of, 15, 26, 30 as “golden era,” 23, 40 individualism and, 28–35 1924 Communist coup in, 43, 155n86 1934 coup in, 44–46 political alienation and, 41–47 social distinction in, 33, 34 tolerance and, 39–41, 47 Treaty of Tartu (1920) and, 25 Estonia, post-Communist, 31, 40, 41, 93, 114, 116, 152n9, 154n67 individualism in, 94–95

184

Index

Estonia, post-Communist—continued political culture in, 43, 97 social distinction in, 33 social upheaval of, 16 support for democratic institutions in, 104 value pattern of, 99 Estonian culture, 12, 15, 26, 65–68, 86 identity and, 28, 65, 90, 117, 119 North American culture compared, 32, 62 preserved by exile communities, 67–68, 90, 119 in Soviet Estonia, 87, 90, 92, 104, 115 Swedish culture compared, 111 Estonian House (Eesti Maja) (Stockholm), 18, 65–66 Estonian House (Eesti Maja) (Toronto), 18, 65–66 Estonian language, 65, 86, 90, 155n70 Estonian liberation, 66, 92 Estonian Students’ Association (EÜS), 34 Estonian War of Independence Veterans’ League (Eesti Vabadussõjalaste Liit), 43, 44 Estonians Canadian-, 57–63, 76, 77, 112 “home,” 66–67, 85, 89–90, 92, 93, 96–97, 113–117, 114 interwar generation of, 2, 10, 14, 85, 94, 116 repudiation of Communism by, 43, 83–84 Swedish-, 63–65, 73, 76, 77, 81–82, 158n32 as well-organized group, 160–161n74 ethnic minorities in Canada, 50 minority rights and, 98 in Sweden, 45, 55–56 tolerance of, 39–41, 47 evaluative orientations, 77 Evans, Geoffrey, 11 exile communities, 69–82, 93, 117–118, 153–154n49

civic culture and, 69, 70–71 democratic virtues and, 70, 71–72 egalitarianism and, 72–73 Estonian culture preserved by, 67–68, 90, 119 organizations established by, 65–66 political efficacy and, 76–81, 82 relationship between “home” Estonians and, 66–67, 89–90, 92 settlement patterns of, 62, 63 of Sweden and Canada compared, 108–113 trust and, 73–75 families, 4, 14, 116 fatalism, 12–13 Feldman, Jan L., 14 Finland, 90, 92 “forest brothers,” 86, 87 freedom, 14, 103 game theory, 7 gender, 139, 166n55 gender differences, 33 generational effects, 8, 149n27 Germany, 26, 38, 93, 153–154n49, 154n57 Gibbons, John, 30 Gibson, James, 104 Girl Guides, 66 Gray, Jack, 11 Great Northern War (1700–1721), 28 group-grid theory, 12–13 guerrillas, 86, 87 Hawkins, Freda, 51, 52 health care, 54, 102 hierarchical institutions, 34 hierarchy, 12–13, 35 historical events, distortion of, 95 Hitler, Adolf, 46 Holmberg, Sören, 43 Home Daughters, 27, 28, 66 Home Defense leagues, 27

Index immigration policies of Canada, 61 racist, 51 of Sweden, 55–56 individual achievement. See achievement orientation individualism, 12–13, 36, 46, 112, 153n19 competitive, 94–95 in Estonian culture, 26, 27, 28–35, 38 individual incentive and, 115 individual initiative and, 31, 95, 154n53 individual responsibility and, 78–79 vs. egalitarianism, 72–73, 95–98 industrialization, 86, 92, 103, 166n56 informers and informing, 88, 98, 104 Inglehart, Ronald, 4, 6, 15, 148n19, 162n7, 166n56 Inkeles, Alex, 11, 88, 96 insecurity, 88, 109 institutional change, 9, 107, 168n18 institutional confidence, 80–81, 82, 131–132 institutionalism, 3, 7, 148n16 institutions, 5, 12, 14, 107, 143, 162n13 hierarchical, 34 responsiveness of, 79–80, 82 integration, 3, 53, 67 intelligentsia, 20, 30 International Refugee Organization (IRO), 60 interpersonal responsibility, 100–101 interpersonal trust, 13, 73–74, 98 Jackson, J. Hampden, 35 Järvesoo, Elmar, 93 journalists, 23, 30, 151–152n1 Kangro, Bernard, 19 Kelam, Tunne, 90 King, MacKenzie, 61 Komsomol, 86 Kross, Jaan, 88

185

Laidoner, Johan, 26 land reform, Estonia (1920), 29, 43 language Estonian, 65, 86, 90, 155n70 Russian, 91 Latvia, 44–45, 89, 93, 154n67, 155n87, 163–164n19 Lauristin, Marju, 32, 94 liberalism, 32 Canadian, 72, 112 classic, 112 life control-values, 136–137, 144 limited reality, theory of, 7 Lindström, Varpu, 53 linear regression analysis, 139, 140–141, 143–144 Lithuania, 11, 89, 93, 155n87 logistic regression analysis, 139–140, 142–143 McCauley, Martin, 85 McCauley, Mary, 21, 85 maids, 32 Mannheim, Karl, 2 manual labor, 88 Marx, Karl, 6 Marxist ideology, 95, 104 material conditions, 4 materialism, 91, 110 media, 4, 90 Ministry of Citizenship (Ontario), 52 minorities. See ethnic minorities minority policy, in Sweden, 55–56 minority rights, 98 Misiunas, Romuald, 86–87, 91, 163–164n19 modernization, 4, 8, 11, 98, 103 Monroe, Kristen, 7 Moore, Barringtion, 6 multicultural policy of Canada, 51–53, 108, 157n16, 157n18 Multiculturalism Directorate (Canada), 52 multiparty competition, 79, 103

186

Index

multivariate analyses, 139–145, 166n55 Mussolini, Benito, 46 National Film Board (Canada), 52 national identity, Estonian, 28, 65, 90, 117, 119 National Library (Canada), 52 National Museum of Man (Canada), 52 nationalism, 90 cultural, 38, 93 Estonian, 29, 38 German, 38, 154n57 Nazis, 38, 43, 85, 154n57 neo-institutionalism, 3, 7. See also institutionalism nepotism, 35 nonhierarchical structures, 30, 111 order, 14, 29 organization fatigue, 94 organizations, compulsory, 104. See also associations, voluntary orientations cultural, 12–13, 62 defined, 12–13 evaluative, 77 pan-Slavic movement, 29 Parming, Tõnu, 93 Parsons, Talcott, 4 participation. See political activity Päts, Konstantin, 26, 30, 43, 44–46, 86 personal achievement. See achievement orientation personality stability theory, 113, 168n18 Pioneers, 86 place of birth, 139 place of growth, 166n55 political activity, 14, 70, 71–72, 94, 115, 123 political alienation. See alienation political competition, multiparty, 79, 103 political culture, 6, 10, 12, 110, 116, 161n4. See also culture; Estonian culture

of Canada and Sweden compared, 50 defined, 13 Estonian pragmatism and, 93, 115 in interwar Estonia, 32 in post-Communist Estonia, 43, 95, 97 Soviet, 84–85, 103 political efficacy, 76–81, 82, 101–103, 126, 141 political elite, Estonian, 40 political equality. See equality political extremists, 44, 75, 99, 129, 141 political freedom, 14, 103 political institutions. See institutions political interest, 70, 122–123, 140 political organizations, Estonian, 28, 66–67 political science, 73, 74, 98, 112 political skepticism, 26 political virtues, 124–125, 141 civic, 14, 70–71, 82, 93–94 democratic, 70, 71–72, 93 post-materialism, 4, 32 Postimees (newspaper), 45 poverty, 100–101 preferences, 3, 7, 8 professions, of first-generation Estonians in Sweden, 64 propaganda, 84, 89, 114. See also rhetoric, Communist Public Archives (Canada), 52 public authorities, 5, 12, 14, 134, 143 public institutions. See institutions public sphere, 77 Putnam, Robert, 6, 13–14, 15, 73 questions, interview, 121–128 racism, 51, 61 rational choice institutionalism, 6 rational choice theory, 7, 8 rational-institutionalism, 7 rationalism, 11, 68, 72–73, 108, 112, 148n16 adaptation and, 117, 118, 119

Index empirical research and, 10 vs. culturalism, 3, 6–7 Raun, Toivo, 15 Red Army, 3, 85, 86 refugee camps, 28, 58–59, 108 for displaced persons (DP), 20, 60, 153–154n49 refugees Baltic, 58–59 Estonian, 19, 49, 57, 60, 86 Hungarian, 159n52 non-European, 55 Reinans, Sven, 19 Reisinger, William, 11 repatriation of Baltic officers (1945), 58, 108–109 republicanism, 70 research empirical, 10 survey, 19 resocialization, 2, 3, 74, 77, 81–82, 110 respondents, selection of, 17–20 retreatism, 109 rhetoric, Communist, 95, 96, 98, 104, 114, 115. See also propaganda Rice, Tom W., 14 Riigikogu (Estonian Parliament), 43 Rogowski, Ronald, 6 Royal Commission for Immigration (Sweden), 55 rule-following, 71–72, 93–94, 115 Russia, 11, 21, 26, 27, 29, 30, 39 Russian administrative class, pre-independence Estonia, 29, 77 Russian language, 91 Russian Revolution (1917), 39 Russians, 15, 39–41, 88, 90, 155n70 Russification, 29 of Soviet Estonia, 85–86, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 96 St. Petersburg, 39 schools, 4, 33, 37, 40 private, 36, 89, 158n32, 160n72 state, 89

187

Scott, MacCallum, 151–152 Scouts, 27, 28, 66 security, 109 segregation, in Sweden, 56 SES-factors, 19 settlement patterns of Estonian exiles, 62, 63 shoplifting, 100, 101 Simon, Herbert, 7 Smith, David, 11 social change, 107 social context, 3, 7, 8, 73 Social Democratic Party (Sweden), 54 social life, fundamental characteristics of, 135 social memory. See collective memory social mobility, 96, 153–154n49 social psychology, 112 social relations of interwar Estonia, 30, 33 in refugee camps, 60 social security systems, 12, 101 social stratification, 104 in Soviet Union, 96 in Sweden, 64–65, 111 social trust, 47, 73, 82, 88, 98, 161n4 Socialism, 31 socialization, 2, 6, 8, 37. See also early socialization socialization agents, 4 society, fairness of, 144 solidarity, 14, 100, 129–130, 142 Soviet Estonia, 3, 49, 83–86, 103–105, 113–117, 164n27 education in, 88–89 Estonian language and culture in, 90, 115 as relatively westernized, industrialized and modernized, 92, 98 Russian leadership of, 95 standards of living in, 92, 93 urbanization in, 92 Soviet Estonia (anonymous), 84

188

Index

Soviet Union (USSR), 10–11, 25, 26, 58, 98, 104–105 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia by, 90 bureaucracy in, 101–102 political culture of, 84–85 post-WWII demand for return of Soviet citizens in refuge, 108 social stratification of, 96 social welfare system of, 103 Sovietization, 16. See also Russification Stalin, Josef, 46 Stalinist terror, 86 end of, 87–88 standards of living, 92, 93 state responsibility of, 78–79, 115, 130–131, 142 responsiveness of, 79–80 state of emergency, Estonia (1934), 44–46 statistical analysis, 16–17 student corporations, 34 subcultures, 3, 15 success, routes to, 132–133, 143 survey research, 19 Sweden, 55–59, 74–75, 92–93, 153–154n49, 159n52 education in, 54 egalitarianism of, 31, 50, 65, 72, 153n22 Estonian schools in, 65, 158n32 Estonians’ reason for leaving, 57–59 ethnic minorities in, 45, 55–56 post-WWII relations between Soviet Union and, 58–59 social status in, 64–65, 111 as welfare state, 49, 54–57, 65, 108 Swedish-Estonians, 63–65, 73, 76, 77, 81–82 Swedish Foreign Board, 58 Taagepera, Rein, 86–87, 91, 163n11, 163–164n19 Tallinn, 29, 96, 151–152 Toompea, 46

Tartu, 45 Tartu University, 34 taxes, cheating on, 72 television, Finnish, 91 tenacity, 3, 6, 9, 72, 79, 119 cultural correspondence and, 81, 82, 109, 110 of “home” Estonians, 115–116 political culture and, 10 Thompson, Michael, 13 tolerance, 14, 26, 82, 129, 141 in exile communities, 71, 75–76 in Soviet Estonia, 98, 99–100, 115–116 towards minorities, 39–41, 47 Tõnisson, Jaan, 26, 45 trade unions, 104 Trägårdh, Lars, 112 travel, foreign, 89, 90 Treaty of Tartu (1920), 25 Trudeau, Pierre, 51 trust, 14, 98–99, 115–116, 126–128, 141 in Canada and Sweden compared, 74–75 interpersonal, 13, 73–74, 78 social, 47, 73, 82, 88, 98, 161n4 Ukraine, 11 Ulmanis, Kaˉrlis, 44 unemployment, 35, 54, 56, 78 Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR). See Soviet Union (USSR) United Nations Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA), 60, 61 United States of America (USA), 93 urbanization, 92, 93, 103, 166n56 utility, 7, 119 value structure, 4 values, 3, 70, 93, 100, 113–117 family, 14 in post-Communist Estonia, 99 post-materialist, 4 state, 130–131, 142–144

Index variables, 121–138, 162n10 control, 17, 122, 139, 166n55 dependent, 122–138, 139 dummy, 17, 139 independent, 121 original, 161–162n6 Verba, Sidney, 1, 13, 70 Vihalemm, Triin, 32, 94 villages, 28 Vironia Corporation, 35 Walko, Ann M., 64 Weber, Max, 6 Weibull, Lennart, 43 welfare education, 102 welfare states, 49, 158n27. See also Canada; Sweden

189

well-being of others, 71 subjective, 13 Westernization, 90–91, 92–93, 96 White, Stephen, 85 “White Canada” policy, 51 Whitefield, Stephen, 11 Wildawsky, Aaron, 13 work ethic, Lutheran, 38, 46, 154n53 World Value Surveys (WVS), 14, 72, 78, 80, 99, 162n7 achievement and, 73 political efficacy and, 76 trust and, 74–75 youth culture, 91 youth organizations, 66, 86

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