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News highlights from Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia.

News Highlights from June—July 1999

• Latvia’s parliament in July approved the country’s eighth government in the eight years since regaining independence.
         The 100-seat Saeima legislature voted 60 to 37 to confirm the three-party coalition government headed by 41-year-old Andris Skele, a former prime minister and leader of the People’s Party. He replaces Vilis Kristopans, who resigned suddenly after less than a year in office, complaining that strife within his minority coalition made his government untenable.
         Addressing parliament after his confirmation, Skele pledged quick government action to kick-start the economy and to balance the national budget. Growth fell and the budget deficit widened as economic turmoil struck in Russia, one of Latvia’s main export markets. Annual Latvian growth was around 4 percent in 1998, but is expected to drop to 2 percent for 1999. “In the last half year, the budget deficit has hit 60 million lats (100 million dollars),” Skele told legislators. “Every minute, we get poorer by 230 lats. We cannot permit ourselves the time to talk.”
         The People’s Party reached a power-sharing agreement with the right-wing Fatherland and Freedom party and the centrist Latvia’s Way, both of which were part of the Kristopans government. The three are the largest parties in parliament, commanding a 62-seat majority. The Kristopans administration relied on just 46 legislative seats, resulting in constant instability.
         As prime minister from 1995-97, Skele was credited with rescuing the economy from the brink of disaster following the collapse of Latvia’s largest bank. He resigned amid corruption charges aimed at some of his ministers.
         Skele owns or shares ownership of many leading food processing plants in Latvia, including the country’s main chocolate factory, Laima, and he has long been an advocate of greater support for local industries. Skele promised to withdraw from his business activities while serving as prime minister, but some observers continued to wonder whether Skele will be able to keep his private business affairs and public responsibilities apart. “As such a key figure in industry, it’s hard to see how he can avoid accusations of conflict of interest,” said Juris Tihonovs, foreign editor of Latvia’s leading Diena daily. “Critics already say that, as the country’s prime minister, he’ll simply be heading a new company: Latvia Inc.”
         The new prime minister has a reputation as an intelligent, decisive administrator, capable of balancing out-of-whack budgets in the most unfavorable circumstances. But he is also perceived as abrasive and irascible, with a knack for infuriating his fellow ministers. That raises the possibility that acrimony that has crippled virtually every government since independence could eventually undermine his. He is also considered an arch enemy of the powerful oil-transit business, led by Ventspils Mayor Aivars Lembergs; leaders in the influential sector could be on the lookout for ways to undermine Skele’s authority.
         Skele said one of his priorities would be privatizing big companies still remaining in state hands, like Latvergo and the Latvian Shipping Company. He said he also wants to reduce the size of government by cutting the number of ministries from more than 20 to 13.
         One of his first tasks will be deciding whether to make changes to a controversial language bill, which deputies passed overwhelmingly, but which President Vaira Vike-Freiberga refused to confirm. She said the law, which mandates the use of Latvian in most public affairs and in many private business activities, was ill-defined and could hurt the country’s large Russian-speaking population. She called on legislators to amend it. Skele had strongly backed the legislation, but indicated he would be willing to change provisions that might not be in line with European legal standards.

• It’s a shocking statistic: across Lithuania this past June, 199 people drowned in separate incidents. Over the same period in Norway, which has a slightly larger population than Lithuania, there were fewer than ten drownings.
         On one three-day weekend alone, 32 Lithuanians drowned.
         Public safety officials in Lithuania as well as in the other two Baltic states-where drowning rates are similarly high—have been scratching their heads in recent weeks about the dramatic rate of drowning deaths.
         Unusually warm weather, with people flocking to beaches and lakes to keep cool, was part of the explanation. Grossly insufficient lifeguard services and a tendency of people to swim drunk also partly explained the deaths.
         But Baltic safety experts point out that rates of accidental death are high in other areas: auto accident rates in the Baltic states are much higher than world averages, as are deaths from accidental poisoning.
         Analysts say part of the problem is too little money to promote safety awareness and sometimes less-than-adequate infrastructure. But Baltic roads tend to be in relatively good condition, if somewhat poorly lit and more full of potholes in places than roads in Western Europe.
         Bad roads certainly can’t account for Latvia’s dramatically high death toll.
         Last year, some 600 people died in traffic accidents in the country; Sweden, which has four times the population of Latvia and many more cars per capita, had roughly the same number of traffic deaths.
         Last year, during a particularly horrific month, some 20 Latvians were dying in car accidents every week.
         Said Latvian Police Chief Juris Reksna at the time: “That’s more than the numbers killed during a week of war in Bosnia.”
         Many Latvian drivers, like their Lithuanian and Latvian counterparts, tend to blame factors other than themselves: the prevalence of potholes, the bad weather.
         Many others disagree, pointing to the general aggressiveness and recklessness of Baltic drivers.
         “If you have bad driving culture and bad attitudes, it doesn’t matter what kinds of cars or roads you have,” said Martins Hildebrants, of the United Nation’s Development Program (the UNDP) in Riga. “I’ve seen some pretty nice cars doing some pretty dangerous things around here.”
         There seems to be a Soviet connection. Accident rates are high all over the former Soviet empire, typically between 400-500 percent higher than in Western countries.
         A casualness about everyday safety issues can appear at times to be a hallmark of the region.
         A June rally race in Latvia gruesomely demonstrated the point. Eight people were killed and 20 injured at the competition when two cars collided and then catapulted into a crowd of spectators.
         Crowds had been permitted to stand on the very edge of the makeshift dirt track as cars drove past; some parents stood with their children virtually at an arms’ length from the cars as they flew by at more than 100 kilometers an hour.
         Investigators say spectators could have shown more common sense, but pointed the ultimate blame at track officials, who the investigators said flagrantly ignored safety regulations.

• A court in Estonia has for the first time sentenced a convicted Stalinist agent to serve prison time—raising the stakes in a drive to bring those who took part in Soviet repressions to justice.
         Following three earlier convictions, Estonian courts handed down suspended prison sentences, saying the men were too elderly and frail to actually serve time.
         Mikhail Neverovsky, 79, was given a four-year prison term in July for taking part in Soviet deportations in 1949. Prosecutors said he assisted in or personally carried out the deportation of some 300 people, including children. His trial in Pärnu, a coastal city some 125 kilometers south of Tallinn, was regularly attended by around 50 of Neverovsky’s victims. Many testified as witnesses.
         Prosecutors said Neverovsky’s performance was singled out for praise by his superiors in the NKVD, the Soviet secret police, and the precursors of the KGB. One NKVD citation, read out in court, complimented Neverovsky for his “ingenuity, courage and initiative” in carrying out deportation orders.
         Neverovsky, appearing in court using a cane and a crutch, declared his innocence. He denied it was his signature on deportation papers presented as evidence. He also said he was pressed into service by the NKVD. “They used me like a fool,” he told the Los Angeles Times during the trial. “I don’t approve of all the repression. Why deport people? I feel sorry for them.”
         The former Stalinist agent said he didn’t understand why his life had been suddenly disrupted by charges, a trial-and now prison. “I have just been dying peacefully,” he said.
         Those he deported welcomed the decision to send Neverovsky to prison. “There’s no reason to pity him,” one of his victims, Evi Intsar, told the Eesti Päevaleht daily. “The men and women he deported were also old. He’s had a good life long enough.”
         “We all got a sentence of 25 plus five years, and without a trial,” another of his victims, 67-year-old Orm Kirikal, told the newspaper. “Four years for him isn’t that much.”
         Tens of thousands of Estonians were sent by cattle trains to Siberia in the years following the Soviet occupation in 1940. Many died in the harsh Siberian conditions.
         Since Estonia regained independence in 1991, prosecutors have actively sought those who participated in Soviet-era crimes. In most other ex-Soviet republics, like Russia, the issue of prosecuting Stalinist agents hasn’t even come up.
         Estonia’s four convictions are more than any other former Soviet republic. Half a dozen other Stalinist cases are about to go to trial in Estonia, and scores of suspects are under investigation.
         Hannes Kont, of the Estonian Security Police, insisted that the effort to track down Soviet-era criminals was primarily about shedding light on Estonia’s tragic history; he said it also fulfilled international obligations to punish all crimes against humanity. He denied revenge was a factor.
         “There’s no issue of revenge here,” he said. “I don’t understand why someone might think that this is a matter of revenge. Crimes against humanity are crimes against humanity, no matter where or when they happened. We have an obligation to pursue them.”

• A retired U.S. Army colonel and veteran of the Vietnam war was named as the new commander of Lithuania’s armed forces in July.
         Jonas Kronkaitis, who has dual U.S. and Lithuanian citizenship, was confirmed after Washington told the 64-year-old it would not object to him leading another country’s military.
         He was named to the post by President Valdas Adamkus, who, like Kronkaitis, lived most of his life in the United States and only recently returned to his homeland. Both Kronkaitis and Adamkus fled Lithuania when it was occupied by the Soviet forces at the close of World War II.
         During his five-year term, Kronkaitis said his No.1 priority would be to bring military standards up to Western levels. He said improving the efficiency of the fledgling armed forces, which numbers under 10,000 men, will be key in Lithuania’s bid to win NATO membership.
         Kronkaitis served for 27 years in the U.S. Army, including a two-year tour of duty in Vietnam.
         After regaining independence, Estonians also appointed a retired U.S. Army colonel to head their armed forces. But after just several years in office, Aleksander Einseln was forced to step down; critics said his anti-communist rhetoric-including the sacking of officers who had served in the Soviet military-caused deep resentment and made it impossible for him to lead his men.

• Lithuania in July launched a criminal case against a U.S. citizen for allegedly taking part in the massacre of Jews during World War II.
         Petras Bernotavicius, 77, was an aide-de-camp to a notorious German military unit that arrested and executed thousands of Jews during the 1941-44 Nazi occupation of Lithuania. Prosecutors found that Bernotavicius was responsible for delivering orders to killing squads; prosecutors believed he also may have ordered some executions on his own.
         After Lithuania regained independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, it vowed to prosecute war criminals who participated in the killing of over 200,000 Lithuanian Jews during World War II. Scores of war-crimes cases have been launched, and two went to trial. But so far no one has been successfully convicted. Jewish groups have complained that Lithuania’s justice system is moving too slowly.