The Weekly Crier
News highlights from Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia.
Updated every Monday.

News Highlights from September 10-September 17, 2001
Special Report—People in the Baltic states huddled around TVs on September 11, disbelieving the horrific sight of the stricken World Trade Centers collapsing to the ground like a house of cards. Shock quickly turned to concern for friends and loved-ones in the United States; within hours phone calls from the Baltics to the U.S. rose over 40 times the daily average.
       They may have been thousands of kilometers from ground zero in New York, but Lithuanians, Latvians and Estonians have been as caught up in the tragedy as much of the rest of the world, with local media heavily focused on it. Many Baltic newspapers have devoted more than half their pages to the attack; the day after, single photos filled the entire front pages of some dailies.
       Hundreds of flowers, candles and poignant notes of sympathy were placed in front of U.S. embassies in the three capitals in proceeding days, and Baltic governments immediately pledged their support. Security was stepped up at the embassies, including additional armed guards and new concrete barriers along nearby roads.
       Later in the week, on Friday, people across the region observed three minutes of silence and flags draped with black ribbons flew from homes and office buildings to honor the terrorist victims.
       In Lithuania, radios and televisions fell silent at noon and cars in the normally bustling center of the capital pulled to the side of the road. Many people stopped and stood motionless with shopping bags at their side.
       In a radio address just before broadcasting stopped, Lithuanian President Valdas Adamkus said that his countrymen, for a change, had to think how they could aid the United States in its hour of need.
       "Until now, we have always tended to think only that America needed to protect us," said Adamkus, who had been in Washington during the attacks and witnessed the Pentagon burning right after it was hit. He cut short his scheduled weeklong visit to the United States and returned home.
       In the old city of Estonia's capital, hundreds of people paused and church bells tolled slowly, echoing down the winding cobblestone streets. Children in nearby schools interrupted their lessons, and sat silently.
       "Feelings about what happened won't go away for Estonians for a long time," said Foreign Ministry official Taavi Toom, in the old city at the time. "All freedom-loving people are struck deep in their hearts by this tragedy."
       In another gesture, the director of Latvia's state television announced that the station would no longer run violent movies for an indeterminate period.
       Lithuanian newspapers reported later in the week that an American of Lithuanian decent, 46-year-old John Wenckus, had died aboard one of the airlines that crashed into the World Trade Center. Baltic Foreign Ministries said they weren't aware of any of their citizens who died or were missing in the attacks.
       "I brought him in my car to a cemetery called Boeing 767. We waved goodbye and I never saw my son again," the Lietuvos Rytas newspaper quoted the Lithuanian-American's father, also named John Wenckus, as saying.
       As NATO announced that it was invoking article 5 of its charter that sees an attack one one member as an attack on them all, Baltic governments also announced that they were ready to take part in any possible response to the attacks.
       But speculation is also rife here about whether Baltic NATO membership, always sensitive because of Russian opposition, was now more or less likely.
       Some here wondered aloud whether closer U.S.-Russia ties to fight terrorism might lead Washington to heed Russian opposition to Baltic NATO membership. Others said the preoccupation with the anti-terrorism campaign, by itself, would put NATO expansion on the back burner for months, maybe even years.
      
The death toll from poisonous homemade alcohol in Estonia rose to 58 as President Lennart Meri controversially said that the drinkers themselves were primarily to blame.
       In an interview published Friday, the Paevaleht newspaper asked President Meri why there had been no official memorials for the poisoning victims while there'd been several this week for victims of the U.S. terrorist attacks.
       Most media in the close-knit nation have described the fatalities, which have climbed to the current level from under ten during the week, as one the worst tragedies here in years.
       "I don't know anything about a tragedy in Estonia," Meri was quoted as telling the daily. "Who made these people drink this? Nothing but habit. The sad matter is that all this was due to the stupidity of the people themselves."
       Many commentators criticized Meri's comments as heartless, saying authorities had to take some of the blame for a lack of diligence in fighting the illegal alcohol trade. Still others said a fundamental cause was a society-wide culture of heavy drinking.
       At least 70 people were still hospitalized after swallowing the moonshine, believed to have been laced with methanol, police spokesman Indrek Raudjalg said. He said several of the injured were in serious condition, and many of them could still die.
       Methanol, also called methyl or wood alcohol, is sometimes used by illegal distilleries to increase the potency of their liquor or added by mistake. It is used in producing antifreeze and other industrial solvents; it's blamed for hundreds of deaths worldwide each year.
       All cases were linked to the same poisonous batch of alcohol, Raudjalg said. Most victims drank the illegal spirit last weekend in or near Parnu, a Baltic Sea resort 125 kilometers south of Tallinn.
       But Raudjalg said several drank it and became ill even after local television and radio stations broadcast dire warnings. "Some may not have heard the news. Others just didn't seem to care about the risk," he said.
       Prime Minister Mart Laar promised to continue a crackdown on black-market distilleries, which produce at least a third of all alcohol sold here. During this week, police have seized thousands of liters of homemade alcohol.
       But he also said a recurrence of such a wave of deaths couldn't be ruled out "because, when it's all said and done, it comes down to decisions made by individuals themselves," he was quoted by Paevaleht as saying.
       Twelve people were detained for questioning, two of whom were released; no one has been charged. Police said they could be indicted for manslaughter, with each count carrying a maximum sentence of three years in prison.
       Police believe the victims bought the illegal alcohol because it was cheaper than commercial brands sold in licensed stores, costing only about 2 dollars per half-liter plastic flask.
       Monthly pay in Estonia averages a little more than 5,000 kroons, or about 300 dollars. Many poorer Estonians say they drink bootleg liquor almost exclusively because they can't afford legal alternatives.

Four members of Lithuania's national basketball team appeared nude on the cover of a sports magazine to whip up support for the squad as it headed for the European championships that started in France on September 14.
       Even though they are recent European champions, the women complained that they were too often overshadowed by the more celebrated men's team, which won the bronze medal at the Sydney Olympics earlier this year and came within seconds of beating the American Dream Team.
       The cover photograph in the popular "Basketball" magazine showed the four without their clothes on and with silver bracelets around their ankles. They held basketballs that partially concealed them.
       In their first game against Greece, the Lithuanians won 78-75. But they lost to Russia over the weekend by 70-78 in a Pool C match.

News Highlights from September 3-September 10, 2001

Twenty-two Estonians who thought they'd bought bargain homemade liquor died after swallowing what turned out to be a deadly brew in one of the worst single incidents of alcohol poisoning in regional history.
       At least 36 others remain hospitalized, with many still battling for their lives after drinking the highly toxic methyl alcohol; the number of fatalities was expected to rise, police spokesman Indrek Raudjalg said. 
       The latest deaths occurred on Monday, September 10, though most victims consumed the tainted alcohol Saturday and Sunday in Parnu, a seaside town of 50,000 some 125 kilometers south of Tallinn. 
       The moonshine was bottled in half-liter plastic flasks normally used for soft drinks and sold for some two dollars; one bottle was emblazoned with the words, "Refreshing Limonade!" Estonia's KUKU radio reported. 
       The victims purchased the deadly drinks at different times in recent days but from the same source, Raudjalg said. He said many of the buyers appeared to be poorer Estonians unable to afford pricier liquor sold in licensed stores. 
       Warnings were issued by radio and television for people to avoid drinking alcohol out of suspicious looking bottles, and the Parnu city government set up a crisis center to provide information and counseling to distraught relatives. 
       "What has happened here is a catastrophe," Parnu Mayor Einar Kelder told a radio audience, appealing for Estonians to refrain from purchasing illicitly made alcohol. "The criminality of this....I'm at a loss for words."
       Police conducted raids in the area of several illegal distilleries, and four people suspected of making and selling the homemade brew that caused the deaths have been detained for questioning. None has been charged.
       Steep rises in costs of alcohol after this nation of 1.4 million people cast off communism a decade ago have driven many Estonians, some of whom subsist on less than 100 dollars a month, to opt for illegal varieties.
       Homemade liquor makes up a third of the alcohol market in Estonia, compared to less than 10 percent in nearby Nordic countries, the Baltic News Service reported.
       The toxicity probably occurred inadvertently in the distilling process.
       "We don't think those making these spirits wanted to kill their clients. It was probably a mistake, but that's something being investigated," said Raudjalg, adding that tests were being run on samples to verify the lethal ingredient.
       He said one of the victims was a woman suspected of taking part in scheme.
       Authorities expressed shock at the scale of the tragedy.
       "When the first people started coming to the hospital Sunday morning, we had no idea the number of deaths would keep growing like this," said Raudjalg. 
       He said fatal alcohol poisonings weren't uncommon, but had always occurred sporadically each month. BNS reported that there were 155 such deaths in 2000. 
       Hospitals in the close-knit seaside town, a popular resort area for Estonians and tourists from around the Baltic Sea, became overwhelmed as numbers of victims grew Sunday. Many were transferred to hospitals in Tallinn, some by helicopter. 
       Methyl alcohol, also called wood alcohol or methanol, can be made synthetically or by distilling wood. It is an ingredient in antifreeze, formaldehyde and many industrial solvents. 
       Illegal distillers are said to sometimes add the chemical in small quantities to make their brews more potent. 
       Methyl alcohol is blamed for hundreds of deaths around the world each year. Consuming the it can also cause permanent blindness. 
       Last year, tainted alcohol in El Salvador caused 127 similar deaths.

The case of a Stalinist-era secret policemen who allegedly took part in mass deportations in the 1940s has been sent to the courts, increasing the chances of a full-fledged trial, Latvian prosecutors said on September 7.
       Nikolai Tess, 80, was charged earlier this year with genocide on suspicion he helped deport 138 people to Siberia in 1949, five years after Soviet forces occupied Latvia at the end of World War II, prosecutors' spokeswoman Dzintra Subrovska said. 
       She said evidence against Tess included deportation papers signed by him. One victim was a five-month-old baby and another an 80-year-old woman; some of the deportees later died in the harsh conditions of exile, Subrovska said. 
       Tess, who holds a Russian passport, hasn't been arrested but is under round-the-clock surveillance by police. 
       Latvians have dismissed criticism they are seeking revenge on an old, ailing man, saying the prosecutions were based on international law. 
       "How can you justify the deportation of children and old people? What did a five-year-old baby do to deserve being deported?" Subrovska said.

Lithuanian prosecutors said on September 8 that an alleged Nazi war criminal in Britain could not be tried in absentia, as some Jewish groups have demanded, because Lithuanian law doesn't allow for it in his case. 
       Anton Gecas, 85, was accused by Lithuanian authorities of taking part in executing Jews in Lithuania and Belarus during the 1941-44 Nazi occupation, when he allegedly was a lieutenant in the 12th police battalion. He denied the charges.
       Scottish officials Tuesday refused to arrest Gecas, who is currently in Edinburgh's Liberton Hospital after suffering two strokes, saying his poor health made it impossible to carry out a Lithuanian extradition request. 
       But despite calls by the Nazi-hunting Simon Wiesenthal Center for his trial to go ahead anyway, prosecutors say Lithuania's year-old absentia law only permits such trials if the ailing defendant is in Lithuania or if he's in hiding abroad.
       The Wiesenthal Center said Lithuanian legislators should "immediately" amend the law so that Gecas could be tried.
       Lithuania asked Scotland in March to extradite the Lithuanian-born Gecas, who moved to Britain in 1947 and has since lived in Edinburgh. The retired mining engineer later managed a guesthouse in the same city. 
 
Lithuanian Arvydas Sabonis, a longtime center for the Portland Trail Blazers in the U.S. National Basketball Association and now a free agent, broke two toes while vacationing in his Lithuanian homeland.
       The 2.2-meter (7-foot-3) center, widely considered one of Europe's greatest basketball players ever, fractured two small toes on his right foot, doctors at a hospital in his hometown of Kaunas.
       Doctors said the injury, which occurred on September 6, wasn't serious and that no cast was required. 
       Sabonis suffered a similar injury several years ago while playing soccer on a Lithuanian beach. Doctors declined to say how the mishap this week occurred.
       The 36-year-old's three-year, 30-million-dollar contract with the Trail Blazers ended this year. Portland wants to re-sign him, and Sabonis has indicated he will retire if he can't reach agreement with his former team.

News Highlights from August 27-September 3, 2001

Estonia's parliament, as expected, failed to pick a new president during two days of voting, automatically handing the decision about who'll succeed popular President Lennart Meri to a special assembly that will meet on Sept. 21. 
       In a final try on August 28, Riigikogu deputies were unable to come close to mustering the two-thirds votes required for a candidate to win. A round of voting in the fragmented, seven-party body earlier in the day and one Monday also ended in stalemate. 
       With half a dozen candidates and no consensus even among ruling parties, the legislature's failure to replace Estonia's only president since the country regained independence 10 years ago came as no surprise.
       There's no single frontrunner as steps begin to convene the Valimiskogu assembly, comprised of the 101 Riigikogu deputies and 266 municipal delegates. But only a majority is needed to win there, so a result seems certain. 
       Parliament Speaker Toomas Savi of the Reform Party and ex-university rector Peeter Tulviste of Pro Patria appear to have the most political support, but neither has a decisive edge over the other. 
       The center-right ruling parties__Reform, Pro Patria and Moderates__are expected to begin tense horse-trading to try and come up with a single, electable candidate. Parties withdrawing their nominee could seek new ministerial posts; there's even been speculation that Prime Minister Mart Laar might have to step down as part of any deal, but that seemed unlikely to happen.
       Most Estonians seemed calm about the deadlock in parliament.
       "It doesn't make that much difference to me," said 28-year-old salesman
Jaanus Pajula, standing in Tallinn's old city as parliament started voting Tuesday. "We're doing well. Not knowing who is president isn't a big worry." 
       The prime minister is responsible for the day-to-day running of the country, while the president heads the armed forces, plays a role in forming governments and is a chief foreign envoy. He also carries out many of the ceremonies of state. 
       The 72-year-old Meri, a one-time writer, film director and anthropologist, was elected in 1992, then won again in 1996. He's legally barred from seeking a third term. 
       Many Estonians have wondered aloud whether any of the candidates currently vying for the job can come close to filling the shoes of the well-educated, witty Meri. His popularity ratings have sometimes approached 80 percent. 
       Most of the candidates, including frontrunners Savi and Tulviste, are seen as comparatively bland, with little of Meri's charisma. Others say that with the economy, political system and even security situation now stable, Estonia no longer needs such an erudite, interventionist president. 
       Complicated procedures meant candidates competed separately rather than simultaneously during the August 27-28 round in parliament. Savi didn't run in the parliament phase at all.
       All who did, including Tulviste and Deputy Parliament Ppeaker and former Education Minister Peeter Kreitzberg, of the leftist opposition Center Party, were far short of the 68 votes necessary to win. 
       No one received more than 40 votes, and the whole process in parliament had the air of a formality. 
       Even though Kreitzberg won more votes than any other single candidate, his chances of winning later this month appear slim unless at least one of the main ruling parties throws its support behind him, which seems unlikely. 
       Anyone who has the support of at least 21 delegates may be nominated at
the 367-seat Valimiskogu, meaning that Savi will have no trouble securing his nomination.
       The electoral body will vote for all the candidates simultaneously in a first round. If no one wins a majority, only the two candidates receiving the most votes go on to the decisive second round. 
      (For more on President Meri, see From Boardrooms to Bathrooms in the newest edition of CITY PAPER. Also, on this site, see Portrait of a President and Renaissance Man.)  
 
Lithuania's president and first lady on August 31 received a record-sized garland of flowers for their 50th wedding anniversary, made up of more than 10,000 roses and stretching some 100 meters. 
       Valdas and Alma Adamkus, both aged 74, arrived at the presidential palace to see the flowers that had been fashioned into two giant hearts; they'd been airlifted by helicopter and placed in a square in front of the 14th century Vilnius building.
       Lithuania's main book of records, Factum, said it would list the flower arrangement as the largest ever made here. It was designed by a local florist; the 5,000 dollars it cost was paid for by anonymous donors. 
       The Adamkuses were married in the United States on Sept. 1, 1951, several years after leaving their homeland to escape repressive Soviet rule, imposed during World War II. They spent most of their adult lives in Chicago, Illinois. 
       Valdas Adamkus, once a high ranking U.S. environmental official, became president of this Baltic Sea coast nation of 3.5 million in 1998, seven years after it regained independence as the Soviet Union collapsed.
     (Also see Mr. President on this site.)
 
The first major congress of Jews of Lithuanian origin ended on August 30 in Vilnius, where 300 delegates from a dozen countries grappled with painful historical issues. 
       Organizers said the six-day World Litvak Congress, attended by participants from as far away as Mexico and South Africa, was primarily meant as a tribute to Litvaks, the name for Jews from Lithuania and their descendants. 
       Before World War II, Vilnius was called "the Jerusalem of the North" because of the role it played as a European hub of Jewish culture and learning. Jews at the time made up half the city's 130,000 residents. 
       During the 1941-44 Nazi occupation, however, over 90 percent of Lithuania's 240,000 pre-war Jews were killed. Jewish synagogues, libraries and schools were destroyed.
       Today, Lithuania has just 3,000 Jews, mostly Russian Jews who immigrated to the Baltic state during 50 years of Soviet rule. 
       Participants discussed plans to rebuild Jewish landmarks and how to promote Yiddish, the language of most Jews here before the war. A World Litvaks Committee was established to address such issues throughout the year. 
       Resolutions were also adopted backing Lithuania's bid to join the European Union as well as its push to enter the NATO alliance, something Russia opposes. 
       The most sensitive discussions surrounded legacies of the Holocaust.
       World Jewish Restitution Organization head Naphtal Lavie met Prime Minister Algirdas Brazauskas to discuss problems Jews have had claiming back property confiscated by Nazis and then nationalized by communists. 
       The premier later said in a speech to conference participants that he would do all he could to ensure more property was returned to its rightful Jewish owners. To date, most properties handed back to Jews have been synagogues.
       Brazauskas also reiterated earlier Lithuanian pledges to bring any still-living Nazis to justice.
       "Law enforcement has to do everything it takes to convict perpetrators of genocide," he said. "I always believed and still believe that we will succeed in restoring the trust and tolerance Lithuania was once known for." 
       (Also on this site, see Reviving Jerusalem North  and A Forgotten Yiddish Past.) 

News Highlights from August 20-August 27, 2001 
 
Estonia's parliament on August 27 began what is expected to be a difficult, drawn-out process to pick a replacement for the country's only president since it regained independence 10 years ago. 
       No one's expected to win the required two-thirds of the 101-seat Riigikogu, handing the final decision about who will replace popular outgoing President Lennart Meri to a special 367-seat assembly, called the Valimiskogu, on Sept. 21.
       Leading candidates are Parliament Speaker Toomas Savi of the Reform Party, and ex-university rector Peeter Tulviste, of Pro Patria. Both parties are in the center-right government.
       The three-party ruling coalition has 53 legislative seats and all three are fielding their own candidates, ensuring parliamentary deadlock. The other coalition partner, the Moderates, nominated ex-prime minister Andres Tarand. 
       Deputy Parliament Speaker and former Education Minister Peeter Kreitzberg is the candidate of the leftist opposition Center Party. But without the unlikely backing of at least one ruling party, he'd have virtually no chance of winning.
       Other dark-horse candidates include reformed communist Arnold Ruutel and Mati Pats, grandson of Estonia's pre-war president. 
       Complicated procedures mean not all the candidates will stand simultaneously in the parliamentary stage; in the first and only round of voting on August 27, Kreitzberg won 40 votes and Tarand received 38; they were the only two candidates running. 
       Two additional rounds were planned for August 28. 
       If no candidate wins the 68 required votes, as widely expected, the decision would go to the Valimiskogu, made up of the Riigikogu deputies plus 266 municipal delegates; only a simple majority is needed to win there. 
       There has been media speculation that ruling parties could agree on a single candidate in time for that special session, but that may require reshuffling ministerial portfolios to benefit parties agreeing to withdraw their candidates. 
       Popularity ratings for the 72-year-old current president, a one-time writer, film director and anthropologist, approach 80 percent. He might otherwise stand a good chance of winning again but is legally barred from serving a third term. 
       Many Estonians describe the erudite, polyglot Meri as the "Estonian Vaclav Havel," after the respected Czech playwright-turned-president, and commentators have fretted about the difficulty of finding someone to fill his shoes. 
       Meri won Estonia's first presidential race in 1992, then won again in 1996. His second and final term ends in October. 
       Estonia's president isn't involved in the day-to-day running of the country, a duty left to the prime minister. But he heads the armed forces, plays a role in forming governments and is a chief foreign envoy.
       Meri presided over the country as it reentered the Western camp, including by lobbying hard for its membership in the European Union and the NATO alliance. 
       The economy, shrinking at nearly 15 percent annually in 1992, has revived from the dead during his tenure. Open-market governments have imposed financial discipline, introduce a stable currency and attracted major foreign investment. 
       Meri hasn't said who he supports in the presidential race, though media speculation has been that he prefers Tulviste. In an interview at his private residence on August 24, Meri would only say that "I'm convinced every Estonian president will be better than the previous one."
       All the leading candidates broadly support Estonia's pro-EU, pro-NATO course, though the Center Party candidate has questioned the speed with which Estonia has rushed to join the EU, saying poorer Estonians have been neglected in the process.
       "The president is a symbol to the world," added Meri about the qualifications for an Estonian head of state. "Every country must have a face, a voice, and a way of speaking, and a way of making jokes." 
       Meri, renowned for his good humor and, at times, a professorial absentmindedness, several years ago wrote the preface to a book of anecdotes that poked fun directly at him. 
       He once famously held a news conference in a public toilet and liked to joke about a 17th century map on his office wall that showed Estonian territory stretching into what is now Russia.
       "I always stand in front of it whenever the Russian ambassador comes to visit," he said in one interview several years ago. 
       President Meri said Friday that the country's next president should focus more on domestic social problems. 
       "We've been successful in building up private industry, but the price has been high, including 12 percent unemployment," he said. "This is something that must be addressed by all the political leadership." 
       He said Estonia had no choice but to grapple with basic economic and security issues immediately after Soviet rule ended.
       Meri pointed to the presence of thousands of ex-Soviet troops until 1994. He spent several years negotiating their withdrawal, including in tough, one-on-one talks with then-Russian President Boris Yeltsin. 
       Compared to those days, he said Estonia now faced problems similar to any average Western country. 
       "We're now a normal, boring country," Meri said. "We must now get to solving social problems that we were forced to postpone." He said Estonia also had to devote more resources to education, especially in science. 
       (For more on President Meri, see From Boardrooms to Bathrooms in the newest edition of CITY PAPER. Also, on this site, see Portrait of a President and Renaissance Man.) 
 
Hundreds of Jewish leaders from around the world began meeting in Vilnius on August 24 in the first major gathering of Jews of Lithuanian origin since World War II. 
       The delegates were expected to broach a wide range of topics, including how to keep Yiddish, the pre-war language of most pre-war Lithuanian-Jews, alive. They were also expected to discuss renovating Jewish landmarks destroyed in Lithuania during the 1941-44 Nazi occupation.
       Vilnius was once known as the "the Jerusalem of the North" because of its importance to European Jewry. But Lithuania's predominantly Jewish capital lost its Jewish identity during the German occupation, when over 200,000 Lithuanian Jews (or litvaks) were killed; before the war, the 60,000 Jews in Vilnius made up half the city's population. 
       The first World Litvak Congress was slated to run until August 30. 
       Delegates came from as far away as Mexico, Argentina and South Africa. 
       (Also on this site, see Reviving Jerusalem North  and A Forgotten Yiddish Past.) 
 
Parliament on August 23 rejected moves to reverse a deal selling Estonia's main power plants to U.S. investors. Prime Minister Mart Laar had warned legislators earlier that reneging on the agreement would jeopardize the nation's bid to join NATO. 
       In the largest privatization in its history, Estonia agreed last year to sell 49 percent of two plants generating 95 percent of the nation's electricity to the Minnesota-based NRG Energy. The state kept a 51 percent share. 
       The sale for 70 million dollars plus 300 million more in investment angered the leftist opposition, who called for it to be annulled. Debate intensified when President Lennart Meri, normally a government backer, also blasted the deal recently.
       Meri has questioned plans to keep Estonia in a power grid with Russia instead of linking this Baltic Sea coast country to a Nordic grid across the Gulf of Finland. He has hinted that Russia could disrupt the electricity flow.
       But Laar, addressing the special session of the 101-seat Riigikogu called to address the issue, said that "thwarting the deal today could badly shatter U.S. support for our NATO aspirations. U.S. support is a condition of our membership."
       A day later, President Meri balked at that suggestion. 
       "Feeling that in signing this deal we will get an open door to NATO is something that, for me, is very naive," Meri said in an interview at his home outside Tallinn. "Democracy, security and our common values cannot be expressed in money."
       Estonia, which still has security concerns vis-a-vis its large eastern neighbor, has made membership in the U.S.-led NATO alliance a top priority, despite Kremlin objections that its entry would be seen as a threat to Russia. 
       After Laar fielded questions on the deal for three hours, opposition deputies planned to introduce a bill forcing a reconsideration of the entire agreement. But pro-government deputies left the hall depriving them of the necessary 51-seat quorum. 
       NRG's spokesman Hillar Lauri said he was pleased by the outcome. 
       "The government was under strong pressure. But they came out like gangbusters supporting the deal," he said. 
       U.S. Ambassador Melissa Wells warned prior to the special sitting that U.S. businessmen, the fourth largest source of investment here, could turn away from the Baltic state if Estonia reversed the deal—which she said was legally binding.
       Pro-West, pro-reform Estonia has privatized virtually all state firms—mostly to Nordic investors. But opposition parties say the power plants are strategic objects and that the NRG deal sold out Estonian sovereignty to foreigners.
       They also complained the deal was too shrouded in secrecy.
       Laar has conceded that a decisive factor in agreeing to the sale was that it would enhance security by enmeshing Estonian economic interests with American interests. But he insisted the economic pluses were also significant. 
       He said the influx of U.S. money was the only sure way to draw desperately needed capital to modernize the rundown stations. Without the outside capital, he said the aging plants would deteriorate and eventually grind to a halt. 
       (Also on this site, see Power Play.)

News Highlights from August 13-August 20, 2001

The Baltic states marked a decade since the Kremlin coup began and then failed three days later—dramatically ushering in Baltic freedom.
       August 20 was an official holiday in Estonia, where the country's blue, black and white national flag fluttered from homes and buildings. Latvia was slated to hold a special session of parliament the next day. 
       A pop concert, featuring 2001 Eurovision Song Contest winner Tanel Padar, was held outside Tallinn's 13th century castle parliament building where ten years ago people gathered to help defend it during the coup. 
       Fearing their governments would be violently overthrown--and with Soviet warships blocking ports and with tanks poised to storm key installations—Estonia and Latvia declared the restoration of their independence during the coup. 
       Lithuania, the boldest and most fervently anti-communist Soviet subject state at the time, made a similar declaration a year earlier, on March 11, 1990. 
       "What Estonia was saying definitively to Moscow and to the world was that we were now taking control," said Trivimi Velliste, an independence activist who later become one of Estonia's first post-Soviet foreign ministers. He said Estonia was not declaring independence, which he said had already existed de jure. 
       To the surprise of most observers here, the coup in Moscow unraveled on Aug. 21 and Soviet power, imposed when the Red Army occupied the three Baltic states five decades before, collapsed here almost literally overnight. 
       Recognition of their independence flooded in from around the world almost immediately. The Kremlin formally recognized it several weeks later, on Sept. 6. 
       Cranes that had been building stone and concrete barricades around Baltic parliaments, rolled up to city-center statues of Soviet founder Vladimir Lenin and ripped them from their pedestals as crowds cheered. 
       In Lithuania's capital, Vilnius, pictures of its bronzed Lenin being lifted in the air by a crane, a metallic rope wrapped around its neck, became one of the enduring images of the Soviet collapse.
       Monday wasn't a national holiday in either Latvia or Lithuania, and there were no official commemorations in those two Baltic states. Latvia's parliament did plan to mark the collapse of the coup in a special session Tuesday, however. 
       The Baltics first declared independence in 1918, when they were provinces of Russia and then defeated Soviet forces in wars of independence. They celebrate their Independence Days on the dates they declared independence more 80 years ago. 
       While most other former Soviet republics struggled in the years following the Soviet collapse, the pro-West, pro-reform Baltics have established stable democracies and vibrant economies. 
       There status as post-Soviet success stories has been confirmed by the European Union, which says the Baltics can expect to join the powerful European club within several years. They're also vying to join NATO, despite Kremlin opposition.
       Drug abuse, crime and AIDS rates are up, however. And while many have done well economically, others, like the elderly, still struggle to make ends meet.
       "Sure, people's dreams about independence were more beautiful than the reality. But even so, they know they've gotten a lot from it," said Velliste. "But you won't find there's any regret about independence here." 
       (See personal account from Michael Tarm in the previous week's news.)

U.S. Ambassador to Estonia Melissa Wells said on August 20 that the country could jeopardize future American investment if it scuttles a deal to sell its main electric power stations to U.S. investors. 
       "If (the agreement) is reversed it would be something the U.S. would look at in terms of encouraging further U.S. investment in Estonia," Ambassador Wells said in an interview at her Tallinn residence. 
       NRG Energy, based in Minneapolis, Minnesota, signed a deal last year to buy 49 percent of the power generation plants in the biggest privatization deal of its kind in Estonian history.
       NRG agreed to pay some 70 million dollars and invest 300 million more in improvements for the stake, while the government will retain a 51 percent share of the two plants. 
       Wells said the agreement was legally binding, and that Estonia should fulfill its obligations. She complained that NRG had already devoted huge resources and four years of talks to get a deal that had already been signed and effectively sealed. 
       Opposition parties have called for an extraordinary session of the 101-seat Riigikogu parliament to discuss the year-old deal, saying they'd like to see it nullified. 
       Their past efforts to cancel the deal have failed. But a statement by Estonian President Lennart Meri on Friday adding his sharp criticism of the energy deal has raised the specter of growing political opposition. 
       Meri has expressed concerns about the U.S. company's plans to keep Estonia locked in to the power grid that includes Russia, suggesting this could leave Estonia vulnerable to manipulation by Russia. He says Estonia should try to connect with Nordic power grids as soon as possible.
       He also has charged that the deal was concluded secretly, without adequate public discussion. 
       "I consider it to be contrary to the constitution and parliamentary principles to privatize the branch of industry that has the greatest strategic value in Estonia in secrecy, and to justify the secrecy with the terms of the agreement claiming that the agreement is confidential," Meri Friday statement said. 
       Ambassador Wells denied the accusations that parliament was locked out of the process, and that the government of Prime Minister Mart Laar accepted less than favorable economic conditions.
"Is it customary to negotiate with 101 members of parliament looking over your shoulder?" she said. "The Estonians were tough negotiators. They're no wimps."
       The agreement has incited heated political debates in Estonia.
Some critics say the deal to sell the plants, which produce some 95 percent of the nation's electricity, will lead to unnecessarily high energy prices.
       Supporters say it will draw badly needed capital to modernize the rundown, Soviet-built stations, which are powered by oil shale. Without American capital, they say the plants will eventually stop.      
       The government says the U.S. investment will enhance national security by tying Estonian vital interests with American interests.
       The deal comes as giant firms from the United States, Russia and the Nordic countries vie for a piece of the Baltic energy sector.
       (Also see Power Play on this site.)

News Highlights from August 6-August 13, 2001

Flashback—A first-hand account of events surrounding the 1991 Kremlin coup by CITY PAPER/Baltics Worldwide editor Michael Tarm. He was reporting on the Baltic states at the time for the London-based newspaper The Independent. 

Foreign Ministry official Toivo Klaar groaned as a telex machine spit out yet another message recognizing Estonia's independence. Messages also spilled from ministry fax machines. Phones barely stopped ringing. 
       A week before, the Estonians had a hard time getting Western governments to even take their calls. But now, days after the attempted Kremlin coup failed in Moscow, officials couldn't respond fast enough to messages flooding in from those same governments. 
       "We keep looking at our telex machine to see who is going to be the next one to recognize our independence," Klaar, looking at once harried and delighted, told me. "We can't keep the lists straight. They're coming too quickly." 
       The week that began with chilling fears of a harsh Soviet clampdown had given way in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania to the almost shocking, unbelievable realization that the restoration of their independence, against all odds, was nearly at hand.
       When a friend called me on the morning of August 19, 1991, to tell me there'd been a coup, I headed for the 13th century castle government in Tallinn, expecting the worst. 
       In pushing the superpower Soviet Union so hard for independence, the Baltic states had been portrayed as brave—if unrealistic—mice standing up to a giant bear. Surely, I thought en route by cab, they were about to be slapped down and trampled asunder. 
       Hardliners had always bitterly denounced the Baltics for supposedly trying to tear the Soviet Union apart. With their hands on the reins of power, it seemed a safe bet they'd now lash out in this direction with relish. 
       When I arrived at the government building, cranes were hoisting granite stones and concrete blocks off trucks to construct a protective wall around the complex, set inside remnants of a 13th century Danish castle. 
       Radio reports, blaring from the offices and corridors inside the building, said tanks were rolling into all three Baltic capitals. Soviet warships had blocked the main harbors. 
       Some officials shook their heads in disbelief as they gathered around televisions to see CNN broadcasts of tanks rolling into Moscow. They saw Russian President Boris Yeltsin climbing defiantly aboard one of those tanks. 
       One official told me that Estonians, despite their historical distrust of Russia, knew their fate was being determined by demonstrators in Moscow standing up to the coup plotters, and by Yeltsin, who had backed Baltic independence.
       "The bottom line," he explained, "is that the Russian parliament in Moscow is the linchpin. If it goes, we all go." 
       But the linchpin held. The coup unraveled by August 21, Yeltsin triumphed and Soviet power, brutally imposed here at the outbreak of World War II five decades before, had collapsed in the Baltic states almost literally overnight. 
       Cranes that were building barricades days before, now rolled up to Tallinn's city center Lenin statue. Crowds cheered as it yanked the bronze likeness of the Soviet founder from its pedestal, then dragged it off to a nearby junkyard. 
       In Vilnius, hundreds of Lithuanians pounded at the base of their city center Lenin with hammers. Wire service pictures of it being lifted into the air by crane, a metallic rope wrapped around its neck, became one of the enduring images of the Soviet collapse. 
       Back at the government building in Tallinn a few days later, Trivimi Velliste slumped over a desk, his eyelids heavy, his pupils bloodshot. He'd been writing notes all day thanking foreign governments for recognizing Estonian independence. 
       He said his mind had also started to wander to the challenges that lay ahead. Among other things, Estonia would have to find a way to revive its battered economy and to persuade tens of thousands of Soviet troops to withdraw. 
       How to deal with the KGB, still well entrenched, was another concern, Velliste said. The Soviet secret police had already begun destroying documents in anticipation of Baltic independence; ashes drifted out of chimneys above KGB's headquarters in Tallinn, falling down on nearby cobblestone streets like snow. 
       "On one hand, I have that feeling of being free," said Velliste, who would later become one of Estonia's first post-independence Foreign Ministers. "On the other, I see that we are going to have to work like madmen."
       Then-Estonian Foreign Minister Lennart Meri had been in Helsinki during the coup, charged with setting up a government in exile if that had been necessary. But on the first day of the attempted coup, he had already famously predicted that the hardliners wouldn't be able to keep the economy afloat, and so would fail to hold on to power. 
       When he arrived back in Tallinn a week later, he epitomized the new confidence that Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians were in charge now, and not the Kremlin. 
       Arriving by boat at Tallinn Harbor, he looked up at a port tower to see a red Soviet flag blowing in the Baltic Sea breeze. 
       "I am not going to walk onto Estonian territory under a Soviet flag," he declared, directing a shaken port authority to have it taken down. 
       "That's an order," Meri barked for good measure. 
       The offending flag was promptly removed, and Meri walked into his country—a free man. 
       (Also see the upcoming CITY PAPER, due out later in August, with a review of the Baltic states ten years after regaining independence.)

Police have charged two suspects in the high-profile shooting death earlier this year of publisher Vitali Haitov, who was the owner of Estonia's largest Russian-language daily, "Estoniya," police said August 10. 
       Both men were 33-year-old Lithuanian citizens who recently lived in Moscow, according to police spokesman Indrek Raudjalg. He declined to give their names. 
       Haitov was shot twice in the head from close range while sitting in his jeep outside his Tallinn home on March 10. Haitov's 9-year-old grandson and namesake, who had witnessed a similar fatal shooting of his father, was sitting beside him. 
       Raudjalg said the suspects are thought to have been hired killers, but he said he couldn't provide further details.
       Haitov, a 57-year-old former Soviet naval officer and Russian citizen, also owned a weekly called "Vesti Nedelya Plus" and had other business interests, including in real estate.
       Associates of Haitov said he had feared for his safety and believed he was being followed. Bodyguards usually accompanied him, but, just before he was shot, he told them they weren't needed. 
       His son Marian, 32, was shot outside his home last year while his son Vitali was waving to him from a nearby window. No one has been charged in that killing; police have said they suspected organized crime was involved.
       Police have blamed several murders over the years on competing gangs fighting to control lucrative illegal enterprises, but killings of prominent businessmen have been rare. 

News Highlights from to July 30-August 6, 2001

Riga and St. Petersburg are slated to exchange statues on the occasion of the 800th anniversary of the Latvian capital's founding later this month.
       St. Petersburg will reportedly hand over a statue of famed Latvian poet Janis Rains, while Latvia will give Russia's second city a giant statue of Peter the Great. 
       Riga's city council voted to donate the bronze statue of the Russian Czar to St. Petersburg earlier this year. 
       Some members of Latvia's large Russian minority said the two-meter tall monument, first erected in Riga in 1910 when Latvia was part of the Russian Empire, was an integral part of Latvia's historical heritage and should be put up somewhere in Latvia. 
       But many ethnic Latvians said the statue symbolizes Russian expansionism. They say presenting it as a gift to St. Petersburg, founded by Peter the Great in 1703, was the most appropriate option.
       The sculpture was taken down during World War I and then lost at sea when a ship ferrying it to Russia for safekeeping was torpedoed by a German submarine. It was retrieved by Estonian divers in 1934 and shipped back to Riga. 
       Latvia, which was independent at the time, planned to restore the statue, but the 1940 invasion by the Soviet Union made that impossible. It has remained in storage since Latvia regained independence. 

A rare form of lightning called ball lightning reportedly struck Latvia during the week, damaging at least one home, the AFP news agency reported. 
       Safety officials told Latvian residents to keep their windows closed and to unplug their house appliances as a safety precaution against the phenomenon, which involves clumps of electricity floating through the air. 
       One house in the town of Smiltene burned from the inside when a lighting ball apparently came through a window. No one was injured. 
       This form of lightening usually occurs near the ground during
thunderstorms, and is often accompanied by a hissing sound and a small strong smell, AFP said. 
       The balls may range in size from a centimeter to a full meter, and usually last for just a few seconds.

Prince Charles will make a five-day tour of the Baltic states in November to mark the restoration of Baltic independence 10 years ago.
       It will be his first visit to Estonia and Lithuania, though he did travel to Latvia in 1995.

News Highlights from July 23- July 30, 2001 

French President Jacques Chirac said in Tallinn on July 28, the final day of a three-day tour of the Baltic states, that his country should increase its role in the region, especially by boosting Franco-Baltic economic links.
       Chirac was the first French president to visit the region since
Francois Mitterand in 1992, a year after Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania broke with Moscow. During his stay he also backed Baltic bids to join the European Union and NATO.
       "France has always looked more to the south and hasn't been looking far enough north," Chirac told a new conference in Tallinn. "France has looked lower than the Baltic countries."
       He said he was deeply impressed by the fluent French spoken by Estonian President Lennart Meri and his Latvian counterpart, Vaira Vike-Freiberga, saying it reflected good diplomatic relations with the pro-West, open-market Baltics.
       "But economically, things certainly aren't fine, and this is regrettable," he said. "The French business community should be involved in developing a position here worthy of France. These are great markets for the future."
       France ranks low on the list of the Baltics' main economic partners, accounting for less than 5 percent of the Baltic Sea coast region's total trade. Nordic countries and Germany top the list.
       During his stay, Chirac said he'd managed to hammer out solutions to what he said was the only irritant in relations with the Baltic countries—a dispute over their pre-war embassies in Paris, which Russia now possesses.
       The Baltics lost their embassies when Nazis seized them in 1940. The keys to the buildings were later handed to the Soviet Union, which occupied the Baltics until they restored their independence following the 1991 Soviet collapse.
       Baltic officials have said the buildings are legally theirs, but Moscow has consistently rejected demands to turn them over.
       France, which has also been careful not to offend the Kremlin by asking that the Russians leave the disputed embassies, has agreed to pay compensation to the Baltic states for the embassies.
       "The problem is now solved for all three Baltic countries," he said. "The interests of all parties were protected."
       Specific sums involved weren't mentioned by Chirac. But the French embassy in Vilnius, said earlier that the compensation package for Lithuania would amount to about 23 million francs, or 3 million dollars.
       "The Lithuanian president had said (this unresolved question) was like a rock in the shoe. We have succeeded in removing that rock," Chirac had said earlier in Vilnius.
       At least some Baltic officials, especially in Latvia, had said that the return of the embassies was a question of principle and they had appeared reluctant to accept French compensation.
       But Estonia's President Meri, who went to primary school in Paris where his father was a diplomat at Estonia's embassy, said he was glad the dispute was resolved, adding it "was a problem that touched me in a sentimental way."
       In Tallinn, Chirac repeated his strong support for Baltic entry into the European Union, and said they had the right to join the NATO alliance despite strong Russian objections to their membership.
       "The French position is that each county has a sovereign right to choose the alliance of it choice, and no one can take that right away," he said. He added that their acceptance shouldn't be seen as an act of aggression against Russia.
       France has supported NATO's policy of leaving the door open to ex-communist states, but is thought to have reservations about Baltic membership for fear it could provoke Russia.
       In Vilnius earlier in the week, the French president had said Russia still had an important role to play.
       "Russia is, with the European Union, the other pole of the continent. Together, they will have the responsibility to assure its development and stability," he said.
       Chirac was accompanied by a 120-strong delegation, including a number of trade officials. He left the region from Tallinn on Saturday evening, July 28.

The English-language CITY PAPER magazine, one the oldest and largest foreign language publications in the Baltic states, is marking its 10th anniversary. The first edition rolled off the presses on July 29, 1991.
       The news and tourist magazine was founded by journalists Eve Tarm and Michael Tarm, as well as publisher Hans H. Luik a month before the Baltic states regained independence. It was one of the first privately owned publications at the time. 
       CITY PAPER's print run has grown from several thousand to over 25,000, and its total readership is estimated at around 80,000. The magazine is distributed in all three Baltic states, in Finland, and elsewhere in Europe and the United States.
       CITY PAPER has both news stories and tourist information, and is widely read by tourists, diplomats, investors and resident ex-patriots. It has been sourced over the years by leading world media, including recently by The New York Times.
       In 1997, Hans Luik sold his shares. Eve Tarm and Michael Tarm—also the chief Baltic correspondent for The Associated Press news agency—are CITY PAPER's majority shareholders. 
       CITY PAPER also produces this website, the Baltics Worldwide, which is one of the most heavily visited English-language websites about the Baltic states. 
       For further information, see a recent interview with the CITY PAPER publisher, here; there's additional information, here  . Inquirers can also be made at (372) 5-120-917. 

News Highlights from July 16-July 23, 2001

Analysis—People elsewhere may hotly debate it and even stage violent street protests against it, but the Baltic states have mostly clung to their own hard-and-fast rule when it comes to globalization: the more, the better.
       Fed up with their isolation behind the Iron Curtain and Soviet-era shortages, they quickly slashed trade and investment barriers after regaining independence in 1991: investment poured in, trade soared and their economies boomed.
       The impact of open-market policies is readily apparent on the streets of the economically vibrant Baltic capitals, from new glass-and-and-steel office complexes in Vilnius to a McDonald’s tucked behind a medieval stone wall in Tallinn’s old city.
       But amid continuing enthusiasm here for global markets, people have also learned that the globalization knife can cut both ways—creating new opportunities, but also new vulnerabilities. 
       That lesson was driven home by what recently happened to Tallinn’s Elcoteq mobile phone plant, a sleek-black factory that has epitomized Estonia’s quick modernization and the disappearance of old, dumpy, Soviet-built industries. 
       The plant, part of Finland’s Elcoteq conglomerate, was jolted hard when Sweden’s Ericsson transferred its phone production from Elcoteq to a Singapore firm; the Estonian subsidiary had to fire 600 of 3,200 workers, one of the largest single layoffs in Estonia in recent years. “We’re used to global winds blowing around and over us,” said plant chairman Ilmar Petersen, near a bright factory hall churning out shiny silver cell phones. “But the impact of Ericsson’s decision was bigger than anything we’d felt before.”
       Elcoteq will continue to make phones for Finland’s Nokia and hopes to shift some production to larger mobile system equipment for Ericsson. But if it can’t recoup the lost business, some fear Elcoteq’s misfortune could become Estonia’s.
       Since it opened in 1992, the Estonian plant has made over 20 million mobile phones—possibly the one you’re carrying right now. This one company has accounted for an impressive 25 percent of Estonia’s total exports in recent years and has been the country’s largest single exporter for seven years running. Some analysts say a drastic fall in production at Elcoteq, if it should happen, could impact the economy as a whole.
       The layoffs weren’t the first hard proof of globalization’s down side. In 1997, financial turmoil in Asia helped prompt panic selling on all three Baltic stock exchanges, with share values plunging by 50 percent or more in a matter of weeks; many prices have never fully recovered. And the 1998 collapse of Russia’s market temporarily sent all three Baltic economies into recessions, with Lithuania being particularly hard hit; their economies have since gotten back on track and are again seeing strong growth.
       But most Baltic policy makers say the prescription for any economic vulnerabilities is, well, more of the same.
       Countries with relatively small domestic markets have no choice but to seek out ever more trade and investment, said financial analyst Toomas Reisenbuk, of the pan-Baltic Trigon Capital. “As an open and small economy, we are more at risk to external forces than larger countries,” he said. “But this is a fact of life and, in the long run, it makes our companies and economy stronger. Closing off our market is unthinkable.”
       Virtually every government in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania since 1991 has agreed, declaring that opening up to global markets was a cornerstone of economic policy. 
       There’s no hint that’ll change.
       One reason it won’t is the fervent belief here that globalization also enhances national security, in part by offsetting Russian influence in the region. 
       Lithuanian leaders several years ago justified the highly controversial sale of the giant Mazeikiai Oil concern—the region’s single largest company—to the U.S.-based Williams International at least partly on security grounds; some backers of the deal went so far as to suggest the American buyers would even use their influence to help Lithuania win membership in NATO.
       Estonia’s government similarly defended its sale of the country’s main energy plants to the U.S.-based NRG by saying that any unfavorable economic terms of the deal would be more than balanced by closer links the agreement would foster with Washington. “If countries have a stake in our economy, they’ll be more interested in what happens to Estonia than they’d otherwise be,” said Toivo Klaar, the Estonian president’s foreign policy advisor. “As a rule, it’s always better if countries care what happens to you.”
       But some wonder if the whole globalization thing hasn’t gone too far.
       Some nationalists decry liberal investment rules that have led to majority foreign ownership of virtually all Baltic banks, most of its main newspapers, and most of its top phone companies. Some Estonians point to a recent proposal by Tallinn’s mayor that a giant mosque be built in this predominantly Lutheran nation as an example of globalization gone mad. 
       A number of critics also say Western pop culture threatens to undermine national identities of Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians, forged over the thousands of years they have inhabited this coastal area. “When I hear about the supposed blessedness of globalization, I always think of the saying: ‘What’s the use of winning the whole world if you lose your soul,’” literary critic Mihkel Mutt recently wrote in Estonia’s Postimees daily.
       Still, anti-globalization sentiment here appears relatively rare. No one seems to recall local groups ever staging a single anti-globalization demonstration.
       The extent of the embrace of open markets might make even the most ardent capitalist blush. But many people in the Baltic states seem to share the sentiment of Maris Lauri, a leading analyst at Estonia’s Swedish-owned Hansapank. “Estonia is an example of how globalization works,” she said. “We wouldn’t be where we are today if it wasn’t for open markets.”
       She hastened to add that she wouldn’t be where she is today, either. “I definitely like globalization,” said Lauri, who daily monitors markets from Chile to Hong Kong. “It’s given me and others opportunities we wouldn’t have had.” 
                                                          —Michael Tarm
Also see related stories: Mazeikiai Oil, Power Play and The Good Invasion.
     
News Highlights from July 9-July 16, 2001

Doctors say world-renowned Estonian-American conductor Neeme Järvi, musical director of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, would remain hospitalized in Estonia for at least two weeks but refused to specify what was ailing him. 
       Dr. Rein Zupping said on July 11 that the 64-year-old had a serious illness, denying he was simply suffering from exhaustion or heat stroke. But he also flatly denied other reports Järvi lost consciousness and nearly died at one point.
       Järvi was in Estonia attending a music festival in the town of Pärnu when he was rushed to a local hospital by ambulance Monday. Later the same day, he was transported to Tallinn, 125 kilometers away. 
       "What I can say is that he is stable today and the situation now isn't particularly bad," Zupping said. "We certainly hope he can make a full recovery...and that he can resume working in the future." 
       Järvi's daughter Marika was in Tallinn and had requested that doctors not release details about her father's diagnosis, the Estonian physician said. Local media reported Järvi's wife Liilia also flew to Tallinn from New York Tuesday. 
       Detroit Symphony Orchestra (DSO) spokesmen said that Järvi had merely suffered from heat exhaustion. Speaking in Detroit on July 10, they said tests uncovered nothing to indicate Järvi had had a stroke, as Estonia's media had widely reported.
       "I talked with him for about five minutes this afternoon," DSO president Emil Kang was quoted as telling The Detroit News. "He said `Tell everybody to stop worrying about me.'"
       Järvi's illness has been front-page news in Estonia, where the conductor is a leading national celebrity and seen as Estonia's No. 1 cultural ambassador to the world. 
       With few details being released from Tallinn's local Mustamae Hospital, where Järvi is being treated, local radio and TV stations reported being inundated with calls from worried fans seeking news about his condition. 
       With an absence of official confirmation, some media appeared to speculate wildly. The Tuesday headline in Eesti Päevaleht, one of Estonia's main dailies, read, "Neeme Järvi Slipped Briefly into Clinical Death." 
       Zupping said that report was untrue, adding, "I don't think his life was ever in danger." 
       Friends in Estonia, expressed concern about Järvi, with many saying the conductor was well-known as a workaholic. He is closely associated with half a dozen leading orchestras and regularly serves as a guest conductor at others.
       "Neeme goes at his work as a conductor with the intensity of a squire on a running wheel," fellow Estonian conductor Eri Klas was quoted as telling Estonia's Postimees newspaper. "But everybody has their limit." 
       Järvi, perhaps Estonia's best-known cultural figure, has more than 350 records or discs to his name—which is said to be more than any one conductor in history. His recorded works include those by Jean Sibelius of Finland and American jazz great Duke Ellington, as well as fellow Estonians Arvo Pärt and Veljo Tormis.
       He emigrated to the United States in 1980 when Estonia still was ruled by the Soviet Union. He had angered communist officials by performing a choral work that contained passages from the Bible.
       He now has both U.S. and Estonian citizenship. 
       Järvi has continued to lead the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra in Sweden. He's also still closely associated with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, the Japan Philharmonic and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra in Britain.
       Järvi's sons, Paavo and Kristjan, are also accomplished conductors. Paavo, 37, will shortly become music director of the Cincinnati Symphony, and Kristjan, who is  27, is an assistant conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic; he also founded the acclaimed contemporary Absolute Ensemble in New York.

Lithuania's parliament on July 12 approved the government program of Prime Minister Algirdas Brazauskas, who has vowed he will stay the country's pro-West, pro-reform course while also doing more to help the poor. 
       The 141-seat Seimas legislature voted 81-36 to accept his government's stated policy objectives, which Brazauskas outlined in a parliamentary speech several days early; not all deputies were present and several who were, abstained. 
       The vote also is considered a confirmation of Brazauskas's choice of ministers. Cabinet members, including Brazauskas, were sworn in after the vote. 
       The 68-year-old Brazauskas of the leftist Social Democratic Party replaced Rolandas Paksas, who resigned after losing support of his coalition partners, the center-left New Union. The New Union is now allied with Brazauskas.
       In an apparent bid to demonstrate continuity, Brazauskas, an ex-Communist Party boss and president from 1993-98, kept Foreign Minister Anatanas Valionis and Defense Minister Linas Linkevicius from the outgoing government. 
       Valionis has been credited with effectively negotiating with the European Union in Lithuania's bid for membership. Linkevicius has been a chief architect of Lithuania's staunchly pro-NATO policies. Both are independents.
       Brazauskas told legislators Monday that winning membership in NATO and the EU would remain high priorities; he will travel to the Brussels headquarters of both organizations to emphasize that point later this month, officials said. 
       Lithuania implemented a pro-market economy after regaining independence. It's economy has seen strong growth but also rising unemployment and growing disparities between rich and poor. 
       Brazauskas said his government will aid those who haven't benefited from post-Soviet reforms, including farmers. He said his goals include taxes breaks for the poor and the possibility of higher taxes on wealthier Lithuanians. 
       "We will seek to channel Lithuania's progress and growth towards a socially oriented market," he told parliament, adding this was the trend across Europe. At the same time, he promised to maintain financial discipline. 
       The burly, white-haired politician is popular among Lithuanians who see him as affable and down-to-earth. But some businessmen deride him as a man of the past and question his credentials to head a government.
       President Valdas Adamkus was thought to have preferred center-right parties but reluctantly nominated Brazauskas when it became clear he was the only candidate capable of winning parliamentary approval.
       In the 1980s, Brazauskas headed the Lithuanian Communist Party, which challenged the Kremlin by demanding more political and economic freedom for Lithuania. He later backed most of the country's open-market reforms.

The Weekly Crier Archives

                                          —CITY PAPER-The Baltic States