Russian speakers in post-Soviet Latvia: Discursive identity strategies by Ammon Cheskin (review)

How many times since I left Lebanon in 1976 to live in France have people asked me, with the best intention in the world, whether I felt 'more French' or 'more Lebanese'? And I always give the same answer: 'Both!'

Amin Maalouf (2000: 3)

The above immediately came to mind when I was asked by Wayles Browne, the Review Editor, to review this book by Ammon Cheskin, a colleague I have met at several conferences. Being an Estonian Russian (according to the most often used official classification of various ethnic groups living in Estonia who happen to speak Russian as their first language) and a sociolinguist, I am often asked by laypeople and by colleagues from here and abroad whether I feel more Russian or more Estonian. The answer to this question is: neither. That was especially clear to me in April 2007 during the Bronze Nights, also known as the April Unrest and the April Events (street disorders triggered by the relocation of a Soviet war memorial, the Bronze Soldier in Tallinn). Since then I have often thought of Pavlenko and Blackledge's (2004: 18) observation that "identity becomes interesting when it is contested or in crisis", which is relevant to my research on identity construction among Estonian Russians as well as to my understanding of my multiple identity.

The last three decades have witnessed an increase in interest in the Baltic countries, in the titular languages, in Russian language use, and in identity construction among Russian minority groups. Almost all of these publications, dissertations, and research projects have "post-Soviet" in their titles. To be honest, in my work on post-Soviet Latvia I have also followed that trend. The question arises, How many more years will we researchers be talking about post-Soviet Latvia, post-Soviet Estonia etc.? If we go back in history 100 years, we see that both countries gained their independence from Bolshevist Russia in 1918. If we think about the start of the second period of independence (i.e., 1991) then we see that after 28 years it is still relevant to talk about post-Soviet Latvia, post-Soviet Estonia, etc. But was it really relevant to talk about post-Tsarist Latvia, post-Tsarist Estonia, etc. in 1946?

My mother was born in 1946 and is now a pensioner. In 1993, when I was 12 years old, my mother then a schoolteacher, returned one evening from a school meeting organised by local authorities in the north-eastern coastal part of Estonia and said: "Nasten′ka, schools will shift to Estonian as the only language of instruction in the nearest future. Please take your studies seriously." And I did. I graduated with a gold medal from a Russian-language secondary school, I graduated cum laude from the MA program in Estonian Philology and I have taught Estonian as a Second Language for five years. But now, in March 2019, I ask myself: why do I feel more and more like a character from the film "Groundhog Day"? The only difference is that the long awaited tomorrow will never come: we still hear about post-Soviet Russians and/or post-Soviet Russian Speakers living in the Baltic countries who do not know the titular/official language, who do not study (in) the titular/official language etc. This is why I felt no enthusiasm about reviewing the book.

But to my great surprise Cheskin's book not only opens some new perspectives on "Russian Speakers in post-Soviet Latvia" but also leads me to reconsider some known facts and events in the history of the neighbouring Baltic country.

The book is clearly organized: it is composed of an Introduction (or Chapter 1), where Cheskin states his aim to highlight "that new forms of identity have been emerging in Latvia which are neither entirely 'Russian' nor entirely 'Latvian'" (2), and eight more chapters. The glossary and appendices provide detailed descriptions...