C o m p e t i n g C o n c e p t i o n s o f M u l t i e t h n i c D e m o c r a c y :

D e b a t in g M i n o r i t y In t e g r a t i o n i n E s t o n i a

VELLO PETTAI Lecturer

Department of Political Science University of Tartu

Estonia

Paper presented at the European Consortium for Political Research, Joint Sessions

workshop on “Competing Conceptions of Democracy in the Practice of Politics”

April 14-19, 2000, Copenhagen, Denmark.*

Comments welcomed: Department of Political Science, Ülikooli 18,

50090 Tartu, Estonia, e-mail: pettai@cie.ut.ee

INTRODUCTION

Is nationhood—or a unified and consolidated social-communicative community—a

precondition for modern political development? Or does modern democratic theory in

fact require renouncing nationhood as well as nation-building, and instead conceive of a

different model of social-communicative cohesion as the bedrock for political society?

What are the minimal elements of social-communicative cohesion for a modern polity to

survive and function democratically? What are the possibilities for building such

cohesion democratically in states where it is lacking?

Estonia represents a test-case with regard to many of these questions as it struggles to

consolidate its democracy in the face of a deeply divided Estonian and Russian-speaking

population.1 Can it build social-communicative cohesion between these groups, brought

together largely as the product of Soviet colonization and still separated along linguistic,

social and political lines? If yes, then on what basis? Will this process be democratic?

What are some of the variables regulating these processes?

* I am grateful to Will Kymlicka for earlier comments on sections of this paper delivered as a lecture

entitled “Building Nations…the Right Way” at Central European University, Budapest, July 1999. 1 Currently, Estonians comprise some 65% of the population; Russians and other minorities whose major

language is Russian (hence ‘Russian-speaking’), comprise around 30%.

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The short answer in Estonia’s case is that nation-building is alive and well, but focused

essentially on language and linguistic homogenization of the population—a method I will

argue is relatively restrictive. The issue stems from the recent adoption of a new State

Integration Program and three years of debate, discussion, and decision-making prior to

that. Specifically, the new program lays out several dozen specific policy measures to

support the integration of the country’s Russian-speaking minority into Estonian society

in order to build national cohesion. The current lack of such cohesion is seen explicitly

in the document (and hence by the Estonian government) as a danger for Estonian society

as well as future development. Yet, the solution to the problem (as proposed in the

Integration Program) is a cohesion-building process based largely on the promotion of

Estonian language and Estonian language competence among minority members of

society. In this sense, I argue it is restrictive.

This assertion raises more specific questions about the inter-relationship between

language, social cohesion, modern state building, and modern democracy. As I will

argue in Part I, language is one of the more difficult elements of social communication to

appropriate by those who do not acquire it inherently. Hence, it can also be one of the

more controversial elements to promote as part of cohesion-building. Still, modern-day

states, which dominate social and economic development in contemporary society, have a

natural inclination (and perhaps even imperative) to impel language cohesion within their

populations, not only for reasons of bureaucratic rationalization or ethnicism, but also in

the name of maximizing human resources and society’s developmental potential. Greater

linguistic homogeneity means people can work more easily together, build greater trust,

and create more wealth. Thus, a contradiction threatens between minorities and states,

which I argue democratic theory does not as yet fully solve.

This paper will be a mixture of theory and empirical case study. In Part I, I will begin

with an extended discussion of nations, states, nation-building, and democratic theory. I

will argue for a functionalist-sociological definition of nations based on Deutsch’s

concept of social communication; however, I will also stress an historical dimension,

which concerns the pervasive role played by the modern, territorial state. It is the

mixture of, on the one hand, the perennial process of social communication building

among people with, on the other hand, the historically contingent phenomenon of the

modern, territorial state, which I argue generates a complicated dialectic for present-day

democratic theory. Stated in hypothesis form (although more for heuristic rather than

theory-testing purposes), the more a state undertakes nation-building by using social-

communicative elements, which are difficult for all target groups to appropriate

effectively (e.g. language), the more democratic principles in that society may be called

into question.

My review of the Estonian case study (which follows in Part II) is not meant to be a

definitive proof of this statement. After all, the Integration Program has only just been

adopted and its implementation still lies ahead. Nor do I mean to provide any kind of

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extended policy critique of the Program, for my interest is more political-theoretical.2

Lastly, my discussion will be qualified by the fact that I do not as yet have all the answers

to the contradictions that I will raise. For, particularly in the Estonian case I find them

quite vexing. However, I believe these contradictions do very neatly reflect competing

conceptions of multiethnic democracy, which is why I address them to this workshop.

1. DEFINING NATIONHOOD

The key to making sense of nations and nationhood is to adopt as functionalistic and

flexible a definition as possible. We can begin to operationalize or theorize the

implications of nationhood for democratic theory only if we break it down into tangible

and readily distinguishable sociological processes. This is what Karl Deutsch proposed

by defining nations as communities organized around a particular system of social

communication. (Deutsch, 1966)

Deutsch recognized the fact that individuals are held together in a community not so

much by the innate symbols, values, or other traits which they share, but by how the

commonalty of these elements is communicated between individuals and how this results

in links of consciousness. Identical traits can not achieve their power of mobilization if

they are not effectively communicated and reinforced between the group members

concerned. Thus, Deutsch’s focus with regard to social cohesion was on process and

performance, rather than substance and content. The community, which permits a common history to be experienced as common, is a community of complementary habits and facilities of communication. It requires, so to speak, equipment for a job. This job consists in the storage, recall, transmission, recombination, and reapplication of relatively wide ranges of information; and the “equipment” consists in such learned memories, symbols, habits, operating preferences, and facilities as will in fact be sufficiently complementary to permit the performance of these functions. (Deutsch, 1966: 96)

Deutsch implies here that all social communities do a “job” to the extent that they

achieve a level of social communication and establish a complementarity of

communicative elements. It is obvious that communites need “equipment” for this job

(including memories, symbols, habits, etc.), but ultimately it is the successful

performance of the job that matters. Complementarity or communicative efficiency is a function, an overall result. The same or a closely similar result may be reached by several

2 In this respect, I will not be discussing a number of other integration-related programs going on in

Estonia, undertaken for example by the United Nations Development Program and the Nordic countries, or

the European Union. While these projects are part of the aims and indeed mechanisms of the general

Integration Program, my focus here is specifically on how the Estonian government has sought to

conceptualize integration and multiethnic democracy, rather than offering a complete view of the

integration landscape.

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different combinations of elements, or even by the entire replacement of some elements by others. (Deutsch, 1966: 96)

As a result, complementarity is the real aspect of nationhood, which counts, not the

components of which it is made up. It is now clear why all the usual descriptions of a people in terms of a community of languages, or character, or memories, or past history, are open to exception. For what counts is not the presence or absence of any single factor, but merely the presence of sufficient communication facilities with enough complementarity to produce the overall result. (Deutsch, 1966: 97)

Indeed, Deutsch argues that if we remain fixated on the esoteric elements of culture or

ethnicity (attitudes, mentalities, sentiments), we lose sight of the fact that these are in fact

merely channeled reactions to internal and external stimuli. The real question is how

extensive are the communicative channels that groups create to order their emotional

demeanors.

Deutsch’s conception, therefore, seems to offer much room to work with, especially in

relation to nation-building. Using Deutsch’s definition, nation-building becomes simply

the identification and construction of more and more common elements of social

communication, which over time will lead to greater social cohesion. It does not get us

bogged down in fuzzy questions of identity nor does it rely on simple self-affirmations of

nationhood by ethnic groups themselves.3 To be sure, Deutsch’s stance was somewhat

clouded by his modernizationist perspective. During the 1960s he and other

modernization theorists were particularly concerned to understand nation-building

processes in the newly independent developing countries.4 However, his basic concept of

social communication is crucially important in order to get at what nations as social

communities are really about.

Deutsch’s virtue, therefore, is that he describes a perennial process. His fault, however, is

that he is also ahistorical. For in history we must recognize that the construction and

evolution of social-communicative systems among peoples has long ceased to be simply

the endogenous process of a given group.5 Rather, since the 17

th-18

th centuries such

systems have also been greatly influenced by the preeminent political force of our time,

the modern state. Starting from around 1700 human communities were transformed in

their character by the advent of the modern, sovereign state or the integration of coercive,

administrative, economic and ideological power across hitherto unprecedented expanses

of territory and time. (Giddens, 1987) This expansion of power represented a

revolutionary change in human history, which was brought about first and foremost by

advances in technology, developments in trade, as well as military competition between

3 Greenfeld (1992), Hastings (1997), Eriksen (1993), Gellner (1983), Hobsbawm (1990).

4 Thus for Deutsch, “If we [know] how to compare and measure the ability of groups and cultures to

transmit information, we might gain a better understanding of their behavior and their capacities.”

(Deutsch, 1966:93) 5 Where ethnic groups craft their social-communicative system endogenously, or what Anthony Smith

(1986) calls ‘ethnocentrism’.

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the major feudal powers of the late medieval period. From now on this power applied to

clearly demarcated, organized and maintained territories, subordinated to precise lines of

authority.

Of course, these transformations have all been extensively researched and documented by

numerous scholars of state formation.6 My point is simply that these changes also

precipitated a transformation in the way human beings were brought together and

interacted as social communities. Modern states changed the nature of social community,

for they represented an exogenous force affecting not only the coordination of

communicative elements, but also their spatial reach across greater territory. Thus, the

present-day nation is in my view a historical variant of social community brought about

by the unprecedented concentration of state power across more extensive areas of

territory and time.7 It is the modern state, which has bound people together in ways,

which they have hitherto never experienced.8

Thus, nation-building in the modern era relates as much to the power of the modern state

as it does to the innate social-communicative elements which make up social cohesion

within groups. It is the interaction of the two, which defines the nation-building process.

Nation-building is, therefore, as old, ubiquitous, and inevitable as the modern state itself.

Modern states will never be “nationless”, for modern social development requires a

degree of social cohesion or a unified social-communicative system in order to anchor

social trust and cooperation in society. The real question is, therefore, what kind of

nation-building occurs. And here we must go back to my definition of social-

communicative systems and critically examine each element to see what is the degree of

openness or appropriability of each element of national social communication in order to

understand what the potential of each system is for building harmonious nations.

The claim is simple: the more a nation is built (by the state or otherwise) upon relatively

exclusive or difficult-to-appropriate elements of social communication, the more

conflictual nation-building will be.9 If we take some of the simpler elements of

nationhood or social communication, such as a common flag, we can well imagine people

fairly easily appropriating that flag as an element of their social-communicative world, if

moreover the elements of that flag are fairly innocuous. For example, twelve yellow stars

in a circle on a blue background. Flags can be very inclusive bases for social

communication, since they require no particular intellectual capacities or skills in order to

recognize them or operate them. You simply have to have two hands in which to hold the

flagpole and begin waving. Likewise, architectural styles, clothing, or types of food are

fairly inclusive elements of social communication, once you learn how to follow the right

pattern or recipe.

6 Tilly (1975, 1992), Spruyt (1994), Giddens (1987), Mann (1993), Ertman (1997).

7 See Giddens (1987, 1990), but also James (1996), Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983).

8 Benedict Anderson (1991), of course, stresses the role of economic factors in nation-building, in

particular the homogenizing effects of 16th

century print capitalism on vernacular dialects in Europe. I do

not underestimate this factor. However, I believe it alone likewise neglects the role of the modern state. 9 Cf. Connor (1972).

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Values are a bit more difficult to appropriate because they require more serious reflection

and cognitive assessment. Do I believe in the particular norms of behavior accepted by

other members of the group and which serve as part of the basis for social trust? Or do I

prefer something else as the basis of my trust? Social customs also may be more

conflictual, for example rules of behavior between men and women, or rules about

women’s rights, etc. These may be increasingly exclusive.

Finally, however, we reach the domain of language and religion, both of which I would

argue are the most “unappropriable” elements of social communication, short of

extensive re-socialization or assimilation. As a result they are also among the most

hazardous elements upon which to forge nationhood. Language is difficult, first because

it requires a significant degree of cognitive skill to acquire, and second because in only a

few exceptional cases is one likely to acquire a new language well enough in order to

perform the act of social communication at a level sufficient both to feel accepted as well

as to be accepted as a full member of the social-communicative group. Language as a

form of social communication is one of the most complex, because it contains countless

nuanced elements, which can usually best be acquired only by native ability. Thus, when

the social-communicative system of a nation is based extensively on one language, the

people for whom that language is ‘learned’ and not begotten can feel themselves to be at

a disadvantage vis-à-vis other members of the nation. This is a hurdle, which few people

can get over easily. Likewise, religion can be a complicated, exclusive element of

national social communication, to the degree that religion generally contains a host of

other elements (including social norms, dress, food, spiritual beliefs), many of which may

be unacceptable to newcomers. Thus, a newcomer may have a more difficult time

overcoming this barrier than he or she would have overcoming a blue flag with yellow

stars.

So what does all this mean for democratic theory? It means that ideal nations would

represent social-communicative systems which have been crafted by the state to include

and indeed focus upon elements which are as “appropriateable” or accessible as the

ethnic diversity of the state’s subject population requires. The more ethnically diverse

the state, the more accessible should be the social-communicative elements. Obviously

one can begin with a flag or an appropriately-worded national anthem. But one can—and

indeed one must—also look at the more difficult elements of social communication to see

what compromises can be struck on these levels without burdening individuals’ cognitive

capacities or disadvantaging their life chances.

Between the two most difficult cases of religion and language, the former is one, which

has in fact been generally resolved, at least from the state’s point of view. The

secularization of the state and the absence of any religious requirements for citizenship in

most countries (or the legal bond through which an individual is recognized by the state

as part of the social-communicative nation) have both gone a long way toward removing

religion as a domain of contention. Beginning in the 18th century, states realized they

didn’t need to include religion in the definition of nationhood in order to secure the social

trust and cooperation they wanted for societal development; people could still work

together reasonably well if they were bound by other elements.

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Language, however, has continued to be a stumbling block, because it relates not only to

the ease of verbal communication, but also to the efficiency and cost of state

administration—something which religion has little bearing on. States can still easily

administer populations with different religions; they cannot, however, easily administer

populations with different languages. Thus, a state will always have an incentive to

reduce the number of languages within its territory, and it is this aim, which can

precipitate conflict.10

Newly democratizing as well as nation-building states must weigh these challenges

carefully. Within democratic theory, some scholars have recently attempted to argue for

weaker definitions of nationhood, which would concentrate on the more flexible elements

of social communication, such as symbols, general social practices, and/or a conscious

commitment to universal humanistic norms. (Kymlicka, 1995) The aim of such an idea

would be to generate a broad ‘societal culture’, which would help to secure social

harmony and tolerance among diverse ethnic groups. (Kymlicka, forthcoming)

Still, this prospect leaves open the dimension of the state and what its role is likely to be.

Clearly, a state could take the lead in crafting and promoting such a societal culture for its

society. Indeed, such cultures have been very successful in a number of multiethnic

states including India, the United States, Canada, Australia and others. However, the state

could also be motivated by a conservative stance and resist broadening its conception of

the nation because of bureaucratic rationality, state security concerns, or basic

ethnocentrism (hostility toward other ethnic groups). In this case, more rigid nation-

building is likely to prevail.11

For example, where language homogenization is one of the

state’s goals, it may be re-framed in the debate as part of a process of improving a

linguistic minority’s own life-chances or opportunities for social participation. The

discourse may be very inclusive, but contingent on certain conditions. How the state

conceptualizes its nation-building has a lot to do with what kind of democracy the state

will have.

2. THE ESTONIAN STATE INTEGRATION PROGRAM

The Estonian State Integration Program was formally adopted barely a month ago, on

March 14, by the right-of-center government of Prime Minister Mart Laar. (“Riiklik

programm”, 2000) The document, officially entitled “State Programme: Integration in

Estonian Society, 2000-2007”, was the culmination of nearly three years of discussion

and incremental decision-making aimed at crafting and approving a broad set of policy

measures to improve the social cohesion of Estonian society and specifically the

integration of the country’s sizeable Russian-speaking minority. The initiatives have won

praised from a number of outside observers, and they mark a clear shift in Estonian

government policy toward a proactive stance on integration issues. However, the

conception of democracy behind it reveals a largely language-based nation-building

10

On the rationalization of language processes, see Laitin (1992). 11

What Brubaker (1996) has termed ‘nationalizing states’.

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project. Estonian language is viewed as the key element of integration, to be promoted

(among other channels) through the state school system, adult educational training, media

ventures, as well as Estonian language requirements for service- and public-sector

employees.

It should be pointed out that the stress of the program is very clearly not on assimilation.

Indeed, the document devotes special attention also to the preservation and even

promotion of ethnic diversity. However, the ultimate goal is to strengthen Estonia as an

ethnic Estonian nation-state by progressively merging its people around a common core

of Estonian language, culture, and values. This extensive social project (for which in

2000 alone a total of over $4 million will be spent jointly by the Estonian government

and a number of foreign donors) therefore illustrates well some of the dynamics behind

ethnic groups, the state, and nation-building. Before examining these dynamics in greater

detail, some background to the situation is in order.

2.1. Building an Ethnic Control Regime

One of Estonia’s major legacies from the Soviet era was a population transformed ethno-

demographically by some 40 years of steady in-migration and semi-colonization from the

rest of the USSR. Beginning soon after World War II, tens of thousands of mostly

Russian administrative officials, technical staff, simple workers and their families

circulated in and out of the republic. This process was characteristic for the whole USSR.

However, in Estonia’s case net in-migration averaged around 4000-5000 people per year,

some times topping 10,000—this was in a population of barely one million during the

1950s and 1960s. In fact, the total number of in- and out-migrants per year was usually 2-

3 times this net figure.

For the Soviet center, the issue was initially one of post-war reconstruction, later, general

economic development. Yet, holding back the accomplishment of these goals was a

labor shortage in the republic (in part because of heavy war losses), which could only be

solved by in-migration. Yet, little attention was paid to the effects of this migration on

social cohesion or social integration within the republic. (Pettai, 1998) Although Soviet

officials attempted to deny this problem with heavy doses of communist propaganda

proclaiming the ‘internationalist friendship of peoples’, a social-communicative split in

fact developed over time between the Estonians and the steadily arriving Russian-

speakers. The generally dominant position of Russian language within the Soviet Union

as well as a set system of Russian-language schools, media channels, and social networks

for the Russians in the non-Russian republics meant that an entirely separate community

was built up within Estonia with only limited (and usually formal) links of social

communication with the titular community. (Kaplan, 1992) For example, Soviet

censuses, but also later independent sociological surveys showed that less than 20% of

the Russian-speaking minority had a functional command of Estonian language,

knowledge of Estonian history, culture and customs was cursory, and individual identities

were predominantly with the Soviet Union as a whole, rather than with the republic.12

12

Haav (1988), Saar, Kirch, Kivirähk (1988)

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Added to this was a high degree of territorial concentration among the Russian-speakers:

about half were based in Tallinn, and another 40% in three large towns in northeast

Estonia (Narva, Sillamäe, and Kohtla-Järve).

By the mid-1980s these socio-demographic trends generated increasing nationalist

sentiment among the Estonian population, especially after the rise-to-power of Mikhail

Gorbachev in 1985 and his liberalization of the Soviet system. At first, these sentiments

were largely defensive, in the sense that their aim was to stop the further encroachment of

Russian language and migration to the republic. The existing Russian population and

inter-ethnic relations were viewed as a problem; however, the first priority was to regain

political sovereignty. In mid-1988, Estonian ethnopolitical mobilization took off with,

first, the replacement of Karl Vaino (the Brezhnevite, half-Russian First Secretary of the

Estonian Communist Party) with Vaino Väljas (a local Estonian), and later, the creation

of the Estonian Popular Front, one of the first institutionalized opposition movements in

the Soviet Union. By the end of the year, the Popular Front dominated the political

agenda in the republic, and it eventually steered the country toward a demand for restored

independence. That struggle, however, would take until August 1991 to complete, when

Estonia (together with the other Baltic states) leapt to freedom in the chaos of the

conservative coup attempt against Gorbachev.

Yet, even with independence now in hand, Estonia continued to follow a largely

introverted nationalist stance, by adopting in November exclusionary citizenship

principles. These principles declared all Soviet-era immigrants in the country to be

essentially illegal aliens in as much as they had settled there under what was now

considered an illegal foreign (Soviet) occupation. Only citizens of the pre-war Republic

of Estonia and their descendants were recognized as citizens of the newly restored state.

Although these principles were essentially legal (and not ethnic) in nature, their

exclusionary ethnopolitical effect was undeniable, since the vast majority of Soviet-era

immigrants were Russian-speaking, while a similar majority of the citizens were

Estonian. In addition, a number of naturalization requirements were set as a precondition

for these non-citizens’ re-admission into the political community. These procedures

included an important Estonian language requirement, which soon became the essential

barrier keeping most non-citizens from becoming naturalized in the near future.13

These nationalist measures on the Estonians’ part were ‘introverted’, in the sense that

they served more to isolate the minority population, rather than consciously attempt to

deal with their ethno-social separation. To some degree, of course, the Estonian language

requirement for naturalization (as well as an Estonian civics exam, which was added in

1995) could be viewed as means to promote integration. In this regard, citizenship

represented merely a carrot for Soviet-era immigrants to undertake an effort to learn

Estonian language, familiarize themselves with Estonian culture and history, and thereby

integrate more fully into Estonian society. However, in reality this incentive system

served more as a perpetuator of exclusion rather than as a social integrator, since many

13

In the meantime, however, non-citizens did retain their essential economic and social rights. They were

also granted the right to vote in local elections. See Pettai (1996).

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non-citizens either objected in principle to undergoing a naturalization procedure or they

simply accommodated themselves to permanent resident status.14

During the early 1990s, therefore Estonia was in a median state in which it rejected

implicitly the legitimacy of its minority population (by using a legalistic interpretation of

citizenship to disenfranchise a majority of Russian-speakers), but it also did not seek to

undertake any assimilative nation-building (preferring instead somehow to contain the

minority as permanent residents). In regime theory, this formula amounted essentially to

an ‘ethnic control regime’ in which “the superior power of one [ethnic] segment is

mobilized to enforce stability by constraining the political actions and opportunities of

another segment or segments.” (Lustick, 1979:328) It was not ethnocracy, as there were

no outright ethnic criteria for rule (as in apartheid-era South Africa). However, it was far

from inclusive democracy, to the extent that a quarter of the population was non-citizens.

In many respects, Estonia could well have continued with this hierarchical system. For,

once installed, the dominant Estonian majority had little incentive to weaken its

superordinate position. (Pettai, 1998) Indeed, Estonia’s inaugural parliamentary

elections, held in September 1992 and based on the new restrictive citizenship principles,

produced an Estonian Riigikogu, or parliament, which was 100% ethnic Estonian. It was

this assembly, which went on to tighten the naturalization requirements with the addition

of a civics exam in 1995. It also adopted a tough Language Law, stressing Estonian as

the state language. While this generated a certain amount of polemics in Estonian

intellectual circles15

, the dominant consensus prevailed. If anything, Estonia was sinking

deeper into division.16

2.2. The Turn Toward Integration

It was only in the course of 1996-97 that attention began to shift toward developing a real

minority integration strategy. This effort was prompted by three factors: research by the

academic community, pressure from international organizations, and political opportunity

within the Estonian government.

The first impetus for a re-examination of minority integration came from a group of

prominent sociologists, who founded a project to consolidate existing research on the

non-Estonian community and examine more closely their social integration. This team,

which came to be known as the “Vera” group, was led (among others) by a sociologist

14

By 1995, Estonia had instituted a system of permanent residence permits as well as aliens passports for

foreign travel, which allowed the approximately 330,000 non-citizens in Estonia to live and work with

relatively few day-to-day problems. 15

See Ruutsoo (1995) for a dissenting view on Estonian ethnopolitical policy. He was rebutted, however,

by a number of follow-up articles in the same journal (Vikerkaar) by more nationalist Estonian politicians,

including Vahtre (1995) and Herkel (1995). See also Mihhailov (1995). 16

See also Kask (1998), who offers a statistical analysis of liberal and nationalist voting patterns among

Estonian parliamentary deputies. He shows that the liberal current among them faded dramatically after

1992, because the new parliament was elected largely by ethnic Estonian citizens, which meant that more

nationalist politicians won seats.

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and mass communication professor from the University of Tartu, Marju Lauristin, and a

social psychologist from the Tallinn Pedagogical University, Mati Heidmets. With

financial support from the Estonian Ministry of Education, they coordinated during the

course of a year a series of workshops with over two dozen other Estonian researchers on

integration and minority issues. While a number of large-n surveys as well as qualitative

work on the Russian-speaking population had already been done since the late 1980s,

much of this research was contradictory as well as unsystematized. Although the views

among Estonian researchers also varied considerably (depending on individual nationalist

inclinations), the consensus was that the integration problem needed to be addressed

more seriously on both scholarly as well as policy levels. In spring 1997, they released

their first volume, which was a compilation of recent work on integration, with a special

focus on Russian youth. (Järve, 1997). While this work did not attempt to produce a

policy prescription, it did argue the need to begin thinking about these issues, as many

authors stressed that the Russian minority was now a permanent part of Estonian society.

The second major factor to encourage greater political attention to integration came from

outside Estonia, namely, foreign pressure. International organizations such as the OSCE,

the Council of Europe, and the European Union were no strangers to Estonia’s

ethnopolitical problems. On the contrary, they had intervened on several occasions

during 1993 and 1994 to steer Estonia away from a number of even more exclusionary

policies, most notably in June and July 1993, when controversy erupted over the adoption

of an Aliens Law to regulate the status of permanent residents.17

Moreover, since

February 1993, Estonia had also been the site of an OSCE Mission, which regularly

monitored events not only in the capital Tallinn, but also in two outposts in northeast

Estonia. (Pettai, 2000) Yet, while numerous reports and statements by these Western

organizations called on Estonia to develop a plan for minority integration, little action

was forthcoming from the Estonian government. Indeed, in 1994 the government

eliminated the post of minister without portfolio for population and ethnic affairs from

the cabinet. The tightening of the naturalization rules in 1995, as well as the adoption of

the new, stricter Language Law also dismayed the international community.

International pressure had essentially therefore proven effective in stemming severe

ethnopolitical tensions, but it had had little success in prompting proactive measures by

the Estonian government on integration. (Pettai, forthcoming) Yet by 1997 Estonia had

entered into a critical phase in its relations with the West. Thanks to its general success

17

In this crisis, the Estonian parliament’s first version of the law included no guarantees that Soviet-era

non-citizens would be guaranteed new residency permits. The text left the way open for the government to

expel anyone it felt undesirable, even if they had lived in Estonia for decades or had in fact been born there.

The law incited a number of protests and demonstrations among the non-citizen community, which

prompted the OSCE’s High Commissioner on National Minorities, Max van der Stoel, to call on Estonian

President Lennart Meri to veto the law. Meri obliged and sent the measure back to parliament for review.

Following an additional analysis of the text by experts from the Council of Europe, the Estonian parliament

made substantial amendments to the law, which thereafter was signed into force by the President. In the

meantime, the controversy also led two mostly Russian towns in northeast Estonia, Narva and Sillamäe, to

stage territorial autonomy referendums in August. However, through an agreement brokered in part by van

der Stoel, the two towns agreed to have their actions later reviewed by Estonia’s Constitutional Court

(which declared the referendums invalid) in exchange for the Estonian government agreeing to not interfere

with the voting itself.

Pettai-ECPR 2000

12

in enacting radical political and economic reform policies, Estonia now stood a

reasonable chance of swinging a place on the list of first-round countries to begin

accession negotiations with the European Union. Estonia met a number of the essential

criteria for candidate status. However, given the country’s restrictive citizenship policy,

its debacle over the Aliens Law, as well as no official movement on integration, the

minority issue remained an important stumbling block for gaining first-round status.

How could the European Union take seriously a country in which a quarter of the

population was non-citizens, or essentially stateless persons? What would this mean for

EU citizenship as well as the free movement of persons, not to mention EU democracy?

If Estonia were to try and add one last feather to its cap before Brussels’ final decision in

July 1997, the time was ripe to adopt some kind of stance on integration.

As it happened, this imperative soon coincided with a third reason behind Estonia’s

change of heart: Prime Minister Mart Siimann’s need at that precise moment to shore up

his minority government with the support of a small splinter group in parliament, the

Progressive Party, led by Andra Veidemann. Veidemann had previously been a minister

without portfolio for European affairs. But amidst a May 1997 cabinet shake-up it was

decided to do away with that post in order to vest responsibility for EU accession with a

broader inter-ministerial council. Veidemann was thus temporarily out of a job, but by

that same token she was a perfect candidate for reviving the ministerial post on

population and ethnic affairs, which in turn would keep the Progressives inside the

government. This coincidence of events would not only allow Siimann to preserve his

government, but also bring Estonia plus-points in Brussels on minority integration.

What’s more, as would soon become apparent, Veidemann was set to take her new task

seriously and commit herself to making integration an active state policy. A new

conception of Estonian democracy would begin to emerge.

2.3. The First Policy Theses

Veidemann’s first move was draw on the same “Vera” group of academics and

researchers, who had raised the integration issue during 1996-97. She appointed a

number of them (including Lauristin and Heidmets) to a government commission charged

with drafting a set of general policy principles regarding minority integration. The

commission was comprised of some 18 members, and it included (alongside scholars) a

number of practitioners of integration such as schoolteachers. Veidemann’s goal was to

gain a degree of political cover on the issue by first seeking a neutral consensus from the

academic community. With this, she could more forcefully argue in the face of

nationalist critiques that an integration policy was necessary. At the same time, the

commission fell far short of including a broad range of minority representatives, which

might have left the impression of some kind of bi-communal negotiating process. On the

contrary, the starting point was clearly centered on preparing a political document for the

Estonian government and within the context of the new ethnopolitical balance. By year’s

end, the commission had succeeded in formulating a draft set of theses, which were

eventually approved by Mart Siimann’s government on February 10, 1998. (“Mitte-

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13

eestlaste…”, 1998) The theses were also later submitted to the Estonian parliament,

where they were approved in June by a wide margin.

The four-page document was a disappointment for many observers, who viewed it as too

general and lacking in concrete steps. Yet, it was fundamental for its unprecedented

statement of the key political principles, which would set the tone for future

policymaking. Indeed, because it had been drafted largely by Estonians as well as passed

by the Estonian-dominated government and parliament, it represented what was

essentially the predominant Estonian consensus on the issue, a bottom-line position on

what the Estonians would accept. Much of the 2000 State Integration Program would

flow from these same principles.

The theses document began with a relatively candid assessment of Estonia’s previous

ethnopolitical choices.

Estonia’s hitherto-existing policy on non-Estonians together with the legislation that has embodied it grew out of a specific societal-political context, which was characterized by the restoring of Estonia’s independence and the state’s emergence from its eastern neighbor’s sphere of influence. This context determined the contents of that policy as well as prevailing attitudes. As a consequence of the laws adopted [during that period], the non-Estonian community has become divided into four legal categories: Estonian citizens, citizens of other states, individuals with undetermined citizenship, and undocumented persons.18

While this statement was obviously not meant to cast doubt on the legitimacy of those

ethnopolitical changes, the document did argue that it was time to move on from that

period, since new challenges were emerging.

By the beginning of 1998 both the domestic as well as international situation has changed…New problems related to [Estonia’s] sizable non-Estonian population have come to fore. Domestically this concerns first and foremost the distancing of a substantial part of the non-Estonian population from Estonian society, their withdrawal into their own language community and mental world…Particularly worrying is the current situation among non-Estonian youth, where many talented young people have not found enough professional opportunities, while rising unemployment has provided fertile ground for a criminal subculture.

Such words marked a clear statement that benign neglect was no longer an option.

Yet, as many commentators would later observe, the essence of the policy was already

contained in its very revealing title, “The Integration of Non-Estonians into Estonian

Society.” In this formulation the process arrow was clearly unidirectional, which raised

questions about what the integration problem really was. For example, of the seven

18

All quotations of Estonian-language documents are translations by the author. Although in many cases

semi-official translations in English also exist, their non-native quality often means subtle nuances have

been missed.

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14

ultimate policy goals stated in the document, five dealt with improving the capacity of

non-Estonians to operate in Estonian society (including language, education, culture,

regional isolation, and political participation), and only one dealt with committing the

Estonian state to supporting this process. Not one addressed steps to be taken with regard

to the Estonian community.19

Admittedly, in emphasizing the importance of starting an integration policy, the

document did state that the process was also “a challenge to Estonians’ openness and

democratic essence.” It went on to add,

“Without an realization among Estonians as to the need for this next stage as well as a readiness to take steps of their own, there is no point in setting goals for integration.”

Yet, these necessary Estonian-oriented steps were not readily apparent in the initial

document, and it would take future policy statements before some of these would emerge.

The February 1998 document set an ambitious schedule for working out these next

iterations. It called for the drafting of a complete state program by the end of the year, so

that implementation could begin in 1999. In the event, the issue was slowed up by

political inertia. With parliamentary elections due in March 1999, the minority Siimann

government lost its steam by the end of 1998 to take up any new state program. Instead,

Veidemann succeeded in drafting an interim “Action Plan”, which was eventually

approved by the cabinet, albeit just five days before the March 7 poll (“Mitte-

eestlaste…”, 1999). Although this document was now somewhat longer (9 pages), in

essence it was really just a re-statement of the previous theses’ stress on the importance

of integration. In only a few issue areas did it offer any more specific policy goals.20

While it also commit the next government to working out a complete state program by

the end of 1999, this clause, too, was in no way a legal obligation.

2.4. Estonian Multiculturalism, Version One

Still, one significant aspect of the Action Plan was the formulation of an extended

definition of integration, which the document proclaimed “the Estonian version of a

multicultural society.” In a precursor of the stance that would be reflected in the final

State Integration Program, the Action Plan defined this vision using three central

19

The seventh goal—calling for a reduction in the number of non-citizens—can be viewed as a two-sided

process, focused on the one hand on getting non-citizens to go through the existing naturalization process,

while on the other hand pledging Estonian state support for that effort. 20

For example, it called for the creation of a Non-Estonians Integration Foundation, which would be a

semi-private institution charged with coordinating policy development as well as administering a special

government allocation of roughly $400,000 per year for grass-roots integration projects. In the event, the

Foundation was established in June 1998 (9 months before the Action Plan was finally approved by the

government) and has been working successfully ever since. For more on the Foundation, see

www.meis.ee.

Pettai-ECPR 2000

15

concepts: an individual-centered approach, a common societal core, and an Estonian

cultural predominance.21

By focusing on the individual, the Action Plan (and hence also the Estonian government)

sought to make it clear that the Estonian version of multiculturalism was not based on

collective rights or groups. It would not involve state recognition of corporate ethnic

groups as part of some consociational or even community-based approach. As a result, it

would not resemble the Swiss or Belgian, or even the Canadian or Australian models.

Rather, it would be an individual-level process, based on each individual’s personal

choice concerning his or her ethnicity.

An individual-centered approach means that together with a recognition of the right of minority groups to a cultural identity, each individual’s right to choose when defining his or her group affiliation or cultural identity is also emphasized. No one can be restricted in the development of his or her culture, just as no one can be ‘obligated’ to belong to a certain national group. The primacy of individual choice means also that multiculturalism is based not on legally fixed group rights, but rather on preferences and understandings as they emerge in society; as a result, the active cultivation of tolerance and openness among both Estonians and non-Estonians will be of central importance.

In this statement, the Action Plan clearly did not have any objections to voluntary

assimilation on the part of Russian-speakers, although officially the policy categorically

rejected assimilation as a goal.22

In this sense, the tolerance preached in the last sentence

of the quotation seemed to reflect a call for both Estonians and non-Estonians to accept

those who had decided to integrate (and/or assimilate); it was not as much a call for

tolerance among the two groups themselves.

This first element of Estonian multiculturalism already epitomized the fine line that

Estonian discourse on integration would attempt to follow as it sought to reconcile

nation-building and liberal norms. The second idea of a “common societal core” was

quite obviously from modern democratic theory. However, here too there were

noteworthy qualifications made as to the likely content of that common core, in particular

with regard to language and culture.

A multicultural society can work successfully only if its members possess a sufficient common core. This common core lays the foundation for

21

The conceptual part of the Action Plan was also used by its main authors, Marju Lauristin and Mati

Heidmets, for an article, which they published in the second volume of the “Vera” research group.

(Heidmets and Lauristin, 1998). A rough translation of this article (along with other integration-related

materials) is available on a special web page run by the Jaan Tõnisson Institute in Tallinn,

http://www.ngonet.ee. Again, however, the translations that follow are by own renderings, including the

three main concepts (indiviidikesksus, tugev ühisosa, eesti kultuuridominant). For additional integration

materials, see the Estonian Foreign Ministry’s web page, http://www.vm.ee/eng/index.html . 22

Already in the February 1998 theses it was stated explicitly that “Integration is not a change in ethnic

identity, but rather the removal of those barriers, which currently hinder many non-Estonians from fully

participating in Estonian societal life.” In the Action Plan, this was restated, “Integration is not losing

something, but rather gaining that, which is necessary for coping in today’s Estonia.”

Pettai-ECPR 2000

16

mutually enriching interaction and a sensing of common interests; it creates a situation where different nations feel secure. It is natural that a large part of this common core will derive from [ethnic]23 Estonian culture; both the state language as well as the dominant language of societal communication is Estonian; the day-to-day norms as well as behavioral patterns, which have evolved here, must also become part of the common core. Estonia’s minorities will contribute their share to this common core, just as an important part of this commonality will come from the ongoing Europanization process. The central task of today for both non-Estonians and Estonians is the adoption of both the rules of democracy as well as the norms of contemporary society.

This view therefore framed the situation as a modern, liberal, and constructable approach,

which in all likelihood, however, would rely on mostly Estonian social-communicative

elements, including behavioral norms. There was, admittedly, a clear recognition that

Estonia’s common core would equally be transformed both by the country’s minorities as

well as its integration with Europe. As both Estonians and non-Estonians would begin to

travel and have greater contact with Europe, their sense of being part of a broader

European space and community would grow, while their perceptions of mutual difference

would diminish. Still, according to the Action Plan, Estonia’s own societal core would

remain mostly ethnic Estonian. There was an implicit warding off of any kind of overly

diluted common core definition.

The Action Plan’s final component of Estonian multiculturalism seemed to reinforce

many of the previous points by citing (now explicitly) an “Estonian cultural

predominance”.24

This factor clearly derived from the bedrock view (enshrined, for

example in the 1992 Constitution) that Estonia was first and foremost a state for the

protection of the ethnic Estonian nation. Thus, much of this stance was logical given the

institutionalization of Estonian dominance in the political system after 1991. The Action

Plan, however, restated this issue.

Within the context of societal dialogue, all functioning cultures in Estonia are equal. In relations with the state, [ethnic] Estonian culture is in a privileged position. The objective and meaning behind Estonia’s statehood is the protection and development of the [ethnic] Estonian cultural space. As a democratic state, the task of the Estonian state is both to support the development of [ethnic] Estonian culture, as well as to ensure the developmental opportunities of minority cultures. Whereas society may become multicultural, that state is and shall remain Estonian-centered. Estonian nation-statehood is manifested in the state’s responsibility for the preservation and development of the Estonian cultural space within a globalizing, multicultural world.

23

This word (as used here and in other quotations) is placed in brackets to highlight the presence of the

Estonian word ‘eesti’ in the original text. This word, while generally translated as ‘Estonian’, has a

specific, ethnic connotation when it is non-capitalized. When written as ‘Eesti’ (for example, in the phrase

‘Eesti kultuur’), the meaning is broader, more societal in scope. 24

This is a largely approximate rendering of the Estonian phrase ‘eesti kultuuridominant’. A closer, though

less grammatically correct translation, might read ‘ethnic Estonian cultural dominant’.

Pettai-ECPR 2000

17

As we will see shortly, the nuances and wording of these three components would shift

somewhat within the text of the final State Integration Program. However, none of them

would disappear. The Action Plan was in this sense an important discursive marker

along the path to defining integration and promoting Estonian nation-building.

2.5. Adopting the Final State Program

Estonia’s March 1999 parliamentary elections saw the downfall of Mart Siimann’s

centrist coalition and the return to power (after defeat in 1995) of a right-of-center block

comprised of the Pro Patria Union, the Reform Party, and the Moderates-People’s Party.

As Pro Patria gained the most votes out of the three coalition members, its chairman,

Mart Laar, was propelled to the prime minister’s post. In negotiating his cabinet,

however, the question of continuing the post of an ethnic affairs minister came into

doubt.25

Indeed, during the preceding campaign only the left-leaning Center Party as

well as three small Russian parties had proclaimed their unequivocal support for

continuing the position; all three members of the new governing coalition had stated that

they would likely abolish it. Still, within the Moderates-People’s Party one of its

prominent leaders was Marju Lauristin herself. (Lauristin would go on to become the

party’s faction chair in parliament.) It was her influence that secured a renewal of the

ethnic affairs post; indeed, the position even went to a member of the party, Katrin Saks.

Although Saks had a background in broadcast journalism, she had recently become a

program director at the Soros-funded Open Estonia Foundation and was responsible for a

major project on minority integration.26

She was committed to continuing her

predecessor’s course, most notably by immediately beginning work on a full-scale state

integration program. To this end, she reorganized the government commission on

integration policy, which in turn named a smaller working group responsible for the

actual draft.

Although on the surface it seemed like the government was about to begin restating and

reiterating the same principles it had already enunciated in its theses and action plan, the

new policy document was, in fact, a significant step forward. This time the entire policy

would be laid out along guidelines designed for adopting large-scale state initiatives

(such as regional development programs or industrial sector planning schemes). This

meant in turn a much more thorough elaboration of detailed policy measures within

specific ministries or departments and with specific timetables, budgets and output

measures. When all of this had been put together, Estonia’s integration policy (including

appendices) now totaled nearly 100 pages.

25

Under Estonian law, the prime minister may name up to two ministers without portfolio and define at his

own discretion their specific policy areas. Such ministers usually have minimal staffs consisting of only 5-

6 advisors. Thus, Laar was free to choose whether to name a new ethnic affairs minister or not. 26

In early 1998, the Foundation had launched its own series of integration projects, including support for

Estonian-Russian family exchanges, language-training summer camps, and university fellowships for

Russian-speaking high school graduates.

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18

In terms of the conception of democracy and nation-building behind it, however,

relatively little had changed. In a 15-page introductory conceptual outline, the program

began by laying out the complete parameters of integration. It listed (1) all relevant

Estonian laws governing minorities and non-citizens, (2) all international treaty

obligations Estonia had in this area, (3) all other state policy programs possibly affecting

integration (e.g. an Ida-Virumaa development program for northeast Estonia), (4) and all

previous government policies and measures. By adding references to international

treaties and human rights law, the program aimed to mollify some critiques from Russian

minority activists (see below), who argued that the starting point for integration should be

international norms on the issue, not Estonia’s own version of multiculturalism.

Further, the document refined the domain of integration by breaking it down into three

parts: linguistic-communicative, legal-political, and socio-economic. This would allow a

better categorization of policy measures. However, it also indirectly contributed to

highlighting the very clear predominance in the program of linguistic-communicative

integration at the expense of the two others. In the realm of socio-economic integration,

the document noted that a large share of non-Estonians’ problems are related to either

inadequate Estonian-language skills (which make them uncompetitive on the job market)

or regional economic issues in Ida-Virumaa (where large Soviet-era factories and the

local oil shale mining industry have been downsized). Hence, it concluded that language

training (or linguistic-communicative integration) as well as other regional development

funds could better address these issues.27

Likewise, in relation to legal-political integration, the document cited as important the

fact that roughly 25% of the population are non-citizens and that one of the stated goals

of integration is to reduce the number of these people. Still, the program suggested only

linguistic-communicative elements to deal with these problems; for example, improved

Estonian language training and expanding the equivalency of different language exams.28

It proposed no amendments to the existing legal structures. Instead, it proffered a

relatively weak excuse based on the separation of powers: it stated that because this

document was for the executive branch, it could not take a stand on matters belonging to

the legislature. Of course, in many ways this was to be expected, as all three parties in

the new governing coalition (as well as most other ethnic Estonian parties) had explicitly

ruled out in their electoral platforms any changes to the country’s citizenship and

language laws. The consensus on these principles was absolute. However, with the

number of naturalizations per year dropping steadily, many non-citizen leaders continued

to call for a fundamental re-assessment of citizenship policy.29

27

While the document also mentioned the potential problem of ethnic discrimination against non-Estonians

on the job market (hence, another socio-economic problem), it did not follow this up with any policy

recommendations. 28

For instance, a graduate in a Russian-language high school, who has passed the state qualifying exam in

Estonian language will be exempt from having to take the separate language and civics exam for

naturalization. 29

In particular after the introduction of a civics exam for naturalization in 1995, the number of new citizens

plummeted. If in 1996, this figure still totaled 22,773, in 1997 it sank to 8,124. A year later it rose slightly

to 9,969, but in 1999 it fell by another 50% to just 4,534. (Kodakondsus- ja migratsiooniamet, 2000) For a

critique of citizenship policy, see Poleschuk (2000).

Pettai-ECPR 2000

19

2.6. Estonian Multiculturalism, Version Two

The final alteration in the new State Integration Program was a more neutral re-wording

of the three tenets of the ‘Estonian version of multiculturalism’. First, individualism was

dropped from that category and redefined as a “general principle” of integration policy,

alongside three other such principles (a special focus on youth, a need to view integration

as a challenge for all of Estonian society, and a stress on integration as building security

for all in Estonia). To fill the consequent gap in the tripartite definition of

multiculturalism, individualism was replaced by its near-opposite: “cultural pluralism.”

Now the document held forth:

Ethnic minorities living in Estonia are guaranteed the opportunity to preserve their linguistic and cultural distinctiveness, first and foremost through the organization of mother-tongue education as well as social life. The concept of pluralism also includes the promotion of minority cultural diversity in Estonian society. Therefore, the goal of integration is the adaptation of different ethnic minority cultures existing in Estonia, not their assimilation into [ethnic] Estonian culture. (Emphasis in the original.)

Likewise, the common core component of multiculturalism was now broken down into

four specific elements:

1. general humanistic and democratic values 2. a common informational field and Estonian-language environment 3. common state institutions 4. a general knowledge of the basic facts of Estonian history, an

appreciation of being an Estonian citizen, and a conscious awareness of the multiculturalism of Estonian society

The importance of common behavioral norms was now gone, however, the emphasis on

common Estonian language remained. “The strong common core of Estonian society is

territorially defined by Estonia itself and rests on a common language—Estonian—which

is the basis for the functioning of all public sector institutions.”

Lastly, the program no longer stressed the predominance of Estonian culture30

, and it

toned down the stress on Estonian dominance of the state. Instead, it took as its point of

departure the need to preserve and development the Estonian culture. Using more refined

wording, the document declared,

Within the context of societal dialogue, all functioning cultures in Estonia are equal. In relations with the state, however, the position of [ethnic] Estonian culture is different from that of minority cultures, to the extent that one of the goals of Estonian statehood is the preservation and

30

The expression ‘Estonian cultural predominance’ was replaced by ‘the preservation and development of

the Estonian cultural space’.

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20

development of the Estonian cultural space. Estonian society is multicultural and the task of the state is also to create the conditions for minorities to develop [their] culture; however, as a common cultural space for all, Estonia is and will remain Estonian-centered.

In many ways, these alterations represented a softening of the Action Plan’s more rigid

nation-building goals. Although the exact reasons behind this change are unclear, a

number of critiques leveled against the Action Plan related precisely to these original

formulations. As will be discussed below, many Russian and non-citizen leaders were

concerned not only about ‘integration vs. assimilation’, but also the general tenor of the

nation-building vision. Building a binational state was recognizably not an option;

Estonia would remain essentially an ethically Estonian-centered state. However, how far

would this nation-statehood be extended or pushed? Was there a way of finding a better

balance?

Looking at the actual list of policy measures to be taken under the Program and

enumerated in its main sections, there is little doubt that Estonian language remains the

key to integration. Of the four sub-programs presented, two deal with promoting

Estonian language, either through (1) a re-organization of Russian-language schools in

Estonia,31

or (2) an extensive Estonian language training program for adults (with

cooperation from the EU-PHARE program). Together they also account for over 81% of

the roughly $4 million in Estonian and foreign money set to be spent on integration in

2000.32

A third sub-program of the general policy lists measures to support minority

cultures and education (including Estonia’s smaller, non-Russian minorities); and a

fourth is devoted to building ‘societal competence’ through media projects, public ad

campaigns, exchange programs, civil society building, and more non-citizen

naturalizations. However, the budgetary shares of these sub-programs are just 4.5% and

7%, respectively.

2.7. Minority and Non-Citizen Reaction

While the debate in Estonia over national integration should have in theory included

strong participation by the Russian-speaking minority, in reality their voice was relatively

minor, as the substance of the Integration program already shows. While a number of

prominent non-Estonian leaders were included in the Estonian government’s integration

commission as well as on the boards of various integration projects, they have been

unable to influence the general thrust of the policy.

31

The Program calls for a gradual phasing out of state-financed Russian-language secondary school

education in favor of mostly Estonian-language teaching. The ostensible goal here is to prepare young non-

Estonians better for entry into Estonian universities as well as for their long-term professional

qualifications. Many minority activists, however, doubt whether this idea is feasible (given the lack of

teachers already in Estonian schools) as well as whether it is defensible from the standpoint of international

norms. 32

“Riiklik programm”, 2000:Lisa 2.

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21

Understandably, one of their primary issue areas has been citizenship. Since their first

election in 1995, Russian deputies in the Estonian parliament have repeatedly submitted

amendments to liberalize the country’s citizenship laws. Proposals have included

dropping the language requirements for pensioners, granting automatic citizenship to 10-

year residents of Estonia, and allowing applicants to take the civics exam in Russian.

Estonian politicians have rejected all of these out of hand. However, the contradiction

remains of trying to promote integration while hundreds of thousands remain non-

citizens. As one activist as written,

Effective integration of minority is a serious problem for every society. The integration of a large minority group, consisting of one third of the whole population, presents a more difficult case. But is it realistic to expect an effective and sufficient integration of a large minority group, when most of its members are disenfranchised? (Semjonov, 1998)

A second accusation has concerned the ‘fetishization’ of Estonian language as the key to

minority integration. This issue involves two aspects. First, activists argued, language is

merely a tool for communication, its use can not be taken as proof of real integration.33

Second, is it realistic to expect that Estonian can ever make much headway in

overwhelmingly Russian-speaking areas of the country such as Ida-Virumaa? While

some level of Estonian language knowledge will undoubtedly be needed there, Estonia

would do better to recognize some of the limits to its policy. In the opinion of some

Russian leaders, the answer would be to declare Russian a second official language in

these northeastern areas (and perhaps across the country). However, here again Estonian

politicians have steadfastly refused.34

Faced with Estonian opposition from within the country, a number of minority activists

have turned to international organizations and in particular international law for relief.

Using as toeholds a number of international conventions and treaties, which Estonia has

ratified, they have tried to argue for changes in minority policy based of apparent

violations of these accords. One success came in December 1998 after the Estonian

parliament finally passed an amendment to grant automatic citizenship to children born to

stateless persons in Estonia, as pursuant to the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child.

Likewise, Estonia’s 1996 ratification of the Council of Europe’s Framework Convention

for the Protection of Minorities has provided another standard against which to measure

33

As one activist wrote sarcastically, “One does not have to be a genius to understand that in all this there’s

no integration as such. The most important thing here is the beautiful and melodious state language. It is the

only means of integration, as well as a criterion of loyalty. The principle is the following: ‘If you don’t

want to, we’ll make you! If you don’t know, we’ll teach you!’” (Semjonova, 1999) 34

Nikolai Maspanov, leader of the Russian Party of Estonia, was an outspoken advocate of Russian

language rights during the 1999 parliamentary elections. Estonian politicians, however, have been

reluctant even to consider the active implementation of two paragraphs of the Constitution (§52 and §53),

which would allow the use of Russian for running local affairs in northeast Estonia. They have argued that

first it must be demonstrated that Estonian has made enough strides in that area before Russian can be

officially recognized. De facto Russian is already widely used in local government in northeast Estonia.

Pettai-ECPR 2000

22

minority policy. However, because the Framework Convention is not a legally binding

treaty, its monitoring effect has been limited.35

Aleksei Semjonov, the director of a human rights center in Tallinn, has summed up the

basic understanding of Estonian integration policy among non-Estonians quite

trenchantly.

[T]he Estonian dilemma, or predicament, might be put in the following way: either “integration through participation”; or “integration for participation”. The “integration through participation” approach is based on the assumption that minority groups are mature enough to take part in the process consciously. They must share objectives and goals of the process as well as their own rights and duties. Moreover, it presumes that the other side, i.e. the majority group, also has duties, not only rights. Integration, then, means a process of co-operation between individuals and groups and it could therefore be described in terms of human rights, minority rights and group accommodation. The “integration for participation” approach presumes that some people are not mature enough to be full-fledged members of society. They must be governed, taught, they have to pass certain procedures, which control for their maturity. They must periodically prove that they are mature enough, or loyal enough, or literate enough to obtain permission for participation in the public life. Their participation in public life will depend on whether it conforms with the interests of majority group, who create the rules and conditions for the test procedures. Sometimes it is a factor of simple mercy, or gestures of ‘good will’. (Semjonov, 1998)

For Semjonov, the first of these versions of can be qualified as ‘participatory democracy’.

The second, however, is akin to the tutelary democracy of the 19th

century. It is fitting,

therefore, to turn to my own conclusion and ask, what is the Estonian conception of

multiethnic democracy?

CONCLUSION

Using a definition of nationhood, which focuses on the existence of a unified and

consolidated social-communicative community, I have sought to show how Estonia has

dealt with this challenge during the 1990s given its Soviet-generated, deeply divided

Estonian and Russian-speaking population. From an initial stance of exclusion and

benign neglect, Estonia has moved toward a more open approach, calling on the Russian-

speaking population to learn Estonian language and integrate into Estonian society. This

conception, I have argued however, is a relatively restrictive one, since it concentrates on

an element of social communication (language), which can be difficult for all to

35

Moreover, when ratifying the Convention Estonia adopted a special declaration defining its national

minorities as only those who are citizens of the republic. This, therefore, excluded the entire non-citizen

population.

Pettai-ECPR 2000

23

appropriate short of large-scale re-socialization or semi-acculturation. Still, in many ways

that is what the Estonian State Integration Program envisions by devoting the bulk of its

energy to transforming the Russian-language school system in Estonia and promoting

wide-scale Estonian language training. While in the new policy there is a clear rejection

of assimilation as the end-goal of integration as well as a clear commitment to supporting

minority cultures, there is also a concerted effort to develop bi-lingualism and bi-

culturalism among the Russian minority, while Estonians themselves will remain largely

uni-lingual and uni-cultural.

In section 2.1., I characterized Estonia’s regime during the early 1990s as one of ethnic

control. Indeed, in many ways Estonia continues to be an ethnic control regime, as long

as such a substantial proportion of the population remains non-citizen. (Hallik and Pettai,

1999) However, if the new State Integration Program is successful, how might Estonia’s

ethnopolitical regime look in 10 years time? Will it be any more democratic than it is

now?

In recent regime theory one of the most intriguing concepts to emerge has been the idea

of ‘ethnic democracy’ as a hybrid of ethnic control and multicultural democracy.

Pioneered by the Israeli sociologist Sammy Smooha, ethnic democracy has been defined

as,

…the extension of political and civil rights to individuals and certain collective rights to minorities [combined] with institutionalized dominance over the state by one of the ethnic groups (Smooha, 1990:391)

In his practice, Smooha applied this concept to Israel to describe the attempts of the

Jewish state to encompass its sizable minority of Israeli Arabs. Although the concept

would appear to be oxymoronic and normatively shaky, Smooha has defended the idea,

stating most recently,

Although generally less democratic than most Western systems, ethnic democracy passes the minimal standards of democracy. It must also be mentioned that ethnic democracy is superior to liberal democracy in according recognition and certain collective rights to non-assimilating minorities. (Smooha, 1999:17)

Estonia is clearly headed down this path if it succeeds in its newly proclaimed nation-

building effort. Institutional dominance will remain with the ethnic Estonian community,

however, there will no longer be an attempt to contain the Russian minority through

separation. Russians will be free to join the system through integration.

But could Estonia ever move beyond ethnic democracy and conceive of its nationhood in

even broader, multicultural terms? This is the contradiction that is most vexing in

Estonia’s case. Is ethnic democracy the best we can do in this instance? Can we call this

democracy ‘consolidated’ even if it is ethnic? Although contemporary democratic theory

had begun to espouse very open conceptions of community and politics, the legacies of

Soviet rule as well as the anxieties of the Estonians as a small nation in a large world

seem to promise little in the way of a radical change in the Estonian perspective. Instead,

Pettai-ECPR 2000

24

the Estonians have adopted a nation-building program to preserve the integrity of their

ethnic community as best they see fit. For them, this will mean consolidated democracy,

be it ethnic or otherwise.

Pettai-ECPR 2000

25

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