Religion and Trade

The people who live on the eastern coast of the Baltic Sea have learned to use their position – stuck on the fixed frontline of a centuries-long religious war – to their advantage.

Estonian foreign policy has had two essential goals throughout its history: to keep Russians out and Russian goods in. Everything else has followed and will follow from these goals. The former is, of course, crucial, because if Russians are not kept out, there will soon be no Estonian foreign policy; those who should pursue this policy – the subject – will simply be assimilated. The latter goal has also been important, because our trade relations or regular communication with Russians, be it intellectual, ideological or political, have brought this stretch of the Baltic Sea coast forward into the European political context and the respective sphere of interest.
Oddly enough, this controversial dual task is being performed significantly well. I am using the words “is being”, because Estonian foreign policy has only episodically and very recently been formulated as the foreign policy of Estonians implemented in the name of the state of Estonia. This does not mean that there was no foreign policy before. This country, which is now called Estonia, and its elite have always had their interests and complicated relations with their neighbours. Inevitably, we do not know much about Estonian foreign policy before the 13th century, but it must have existed in one form or another. It is quite certain that the inhabitants of the islands and coastal areas pursued their own diplomacy, as their interests and risks were mostly connected with overseas territories, while those living in Ugandi and other southern counties in Ancient Estonia had different diplomatic goals, as they had to withstand the pressure of their eastern and southern neighbours, while even the people who had settled in quiet and remote areas like Viru-Järva might have had their own diplomacy.
We do not know whether this dual task – Russians out and goods in – was already of existential importance in those times. We could offer various conjectures, but these would be only based on extrapolations of contemporary ideologies. In fact, there is nothing to substantiate the frequent claims that German colonisers saved “us” at the last moment, in extremis, from being swallowed by the Slavs, thus delivering us to the Western cultural world. Who knows, maybe our own autonomous diplomacy directed towards the East might have been more flexible and successful. On the other hand, why should we assume that the missionaries of the Russian Orthodox Church would have brought more happiness and peace to these shores? All these speculations are pointless, but it seems that already in the 13th century our practical-military (trade and defence) or so-called “normal” foreign policy transformed into religious fighting, which has continued up to the present day.
There it is – the famous religious border that runs along the Narva River. The encyclopaedist brother Bartholomew pinpointed it as early as the 13th century and it is still one of the most beloved topics of contemporary European chroniclers. If a TV programme or clip is shot in Estonia, journalists always pay homage to this river. Every one of them yearns for the “other side”, at the same time fearing it, and they all concoct tear-jerking stories about the problems of the “Russian minority”. Still, for Westerners – Germans, Frenchmen, Brits – the most interesting aspect of Estonia is Russia and Russians. At times when they are not especially interested in Russia, they show no interest in Estonia (or Latvia) either.
The problem is that the Western Church and its missions targeting the East in general have never been persistent in our border state: they have only mounted sporadic and intermittent campaigns here. But Russian missionaries targeting the West have not forgotten their goals for a single moment. In the Middle Ages, Rome lost interest in Livonia, when it became clear that attempts to win Russia “back” to the Holy Church via Livonia would not be successful. Sadly, a similar decline in interest is manifest at the moment, after yet another failed eastward mission: this time the plan was to democratise Russia. Oddly enough, Russians cling tenaciously to their beliefs and Westerners cannot understand why. After all, they are offering Russians something better, something more rational and effective. Nonetheless, Russians prefer their own faith. The discussions between the West and the East are difficult, if not impossible, and all we can do is to keep a low profile and maintain some kind of Hanseatic trading relations with Russians. Furthermore, contrary to the hopes of the idealists who insist that economic ties bring nations closer to each other, these business relations provide only a background for the escalation of the political-religious confrontation between the West and Moscow. This means that Russians will continue to threaten us, at least symbolically, from the other bank of the Narva River.
Luckily for us – from the point of view of the above dual task – missionaries from the West have never ceased to be active here, even though their interest in us might have been volatile. Politicians and institutions looking further ahead than the medium term future, if not eternity, have always kept us in mind and silently pursued their objectives. We should not be fooled by the secularisation of present-day Western Europe – the purely religious aspect of the missions targeting the East has not completely disappeared. Incidentally , Russia seems to be very well aware of this, as it is imposing new protectionist regulations that curb the possibilities for Catholics and Protestants to encourage religious conversion among Orthodox Christians. Clearly, Russia has not forgotten the contribution of the Roman Church to the disintegration of the Soviet Union.
Although the main aim of Estonian foreign policy – to keep Russians out – might seem nationalistic or xenophobic in today’s world, in fact it is not. The issue does not concern Russians, but the religion prevalent in Russia, or, in other words, the ideology, the worldview, the way of life and so on. Our country has already adopted the “German religion”, that is the German interpretation of rights of ownership, rules of government, school system, cuisine and literature and therefore it would be very hard for us to subject ourselves to an altogether different “Russian religion” (and respective way of life). The religious conversion activities pursued by the Russian state in its “German” provinces at the end of the 19th century brought some results for certain political (peasant emancipation against the nobility; protest against the church of the upper class) and economic reasons, but managed to change the general way of life and mentality only slightly. Estonian Orthodox Christians did not transform into Russians. Oddly enough, the most hated enemies of the Russian Church now living here are the members of its “fellow” Orthodox Church, not Lutherans or non-believers.
Religious, ideological and nationalist issues that form a part of our (foreign) policies are intertwined in a quite remarkable way, complicated often incomprehensible to Westerners. Yet, it is interesting that both the West and Russia accuse Estonians and Latvians of nationalism. While the West does it mainly due to a misunderstanding, Russia does it intentionally or due to a different kind of misjudgement. The point is that Western-style nationalism and modern nation-states are not compatible with the Russian religion. Russians simply do not understand our “German” nationalism – they think we are petty, unambitious and self-centred, as we want to be left alone to live in our own land, speak our own language and uphold our own traditions. Russian nationalism is not nationalism, but Messianism or religious fanaticism – they are spreading the word, they know what is best for everyone and if you do not agree with them, they always feel offended.
Hence, some Westerners are convinced that the tiresome “nationalism” of Estonians and Latvians and the harassment of the “Russian minority” hinder the positive engagement of Russia – the historical mission of the West. Those who believe the gross exaggerations that Russians feed to the public are, of course, too gullible. On the other hand, the border states under discussion long ago ceased to bother Russians only for economic and strategic reasons – they also annoy Russians on religious and ideological grounds. The fact that these insignificant nations have so stubbornly refused to accept the benevolent Russian religion serves as an uncomfortable reminder of some of the radical differences and dissimilarities between the Russian religion (its ideology or worldview) and the values maintained west of the Narva River.
Being stuck on the fixed frontline of the centuries-long religious war, the people who live on the eastern coast of the Baltic Sea have also learned to use this to their advantage. We – in different shapes and forms: Baltic Germans, Estonians and Latvians – have almost incidentally managed to prove to the two opposing sides that they need us as we are. We serve as a platform for both trade and religious missions. We have constituted the eastern periphery of the German Roman Empire, the “German” provinces of the Russian Empire and the “West” of the Soviet Union, but, despite occasional setbacks, we have still somehow pursued our own essential objectives and foreign policy (or “foreign policy”, if you insist). As the border states of the European Union, we will now hopefully endorse the same views and, if necessary, continue to do so even in the post-EU, post-NATO and post-everything era. After all, the future is wide open not only for Moscow and Rome, but also for our Old Livonia – Estonia and Latvia.