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<text> <title> (Sep. 09, 1991) The Baltics:Perils of Nationhood </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991 Sep. 09, 1991 Power Vacuum </history> <link 04181> <link 03433> <link 00500> <link 00041> <link 00035> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> WORLD, Page 35 THE BALTICS Perils of Nationhood </hdr> <body> The Baltics have their independence back, and foreign recognition, but they won't be able to break Moscow's grip right away By Bruce W. Nelan--Reported by James Carney and Ann M. Simmons/Moscow The last foreign envoy accredited to the Baltic republics left 50 years ago, after the Red Army extinguished their sovereignty. When Lithuania declared its independence anew in March 1990, no one came. But now that Lithuania, along with Latvia and Estonia, has reclaimed its freedom from the rubble of the Soviet state, foreign ministers and diplomats seem almost breathless in their rush to return. The first new ambassador on the scene was Denmark's Otto Borch, who said, "No assignment I have received has brought me greater pleasure than this one." Somehow the Latvians managed to find a handful of red-and-white Danish flags to wave as they cheered his arrival in Riga last week. A day later, the 12-nation European Community announced its recognition of the Baltics and its members' intention to open diplomatic relations "without delay." At an emotional ceremony in Bonn, the foreign ministers of the three republics personally accepted Germany's recognition. The 1939 nonaggression treaty between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union set the stage for Stalin's annexation of the Baltic states the following year. "It is only today," said Estonian foreign minister Lennart Meri, "that the last consequences of the Second World War have been done away with." Meanwhile, the French and Swedish foreign ministers, Roland Dumas and Sten Andersson, flew to the Baltics to prepare for the opening of their new embassies. By the end of the week, more than 30 countries had recognized the states as independent. All three states have advised the United Nations they intend to apply for membership. Washington did not join in the initial rush. The U.S. never accepted Soviet sovereignty over the Baltics, but it resisted public pressure to send in the diplomats. It held back partly to avoid complicating Mikhail Gorbachev's efforts to salvage the rest of the union and partly to be sure the three states were fully in control of their own territory. George Bush called on Moscow to stop standing "against the winds of the inevitable" and formalize Baltic independence. If Moscow keeps dawdling, the White House said, the U.S. would announce recognition this week. While officials in Moscow do not dispute the fact that the Baltics are out of the Soviet Union--and Russia's Boris Yeltsin has recognized them--Gorbachev still insists the final terms of their departure must be negotiated. Baltic leaders even share that view to some extent, if only to ensure a process that frees their republics from the grip of the more than 100,000 Soviet military, KGB and Interior Ministry troops still based there. Those negotiations have begun and have scored a few preliminary agreements. Lithuanians will no longer be drafted for the Soviet army and those in uniform now will be released. Lithuanians and Soviet guards are working together at border crossings, though there is still some confusion about who can legally issue visas to visitors. Estonia's parliament is to begin work on legislation setting up the republic's own defense ministry. Yeltsin informed the Baltic governments that the short-range nuclear weapons formerly on their soil have already been shipped back to Russia. KGB operations in Latvia have been banned, and all three republics plan to take over their security services. The hated "Black Berets" of the Interior Ministry, who are blamed for a series of nighttime bombings and killings of the separatist Balts, have been confined to barracks and are being withdrawn. According to the New York Times, one Black Beret unit commander in Lithuania, concerned that he and his men had become "outlaws," appealed for asylum in the West because he feared their "human rights" were endangered. Lithuanian President Vytautas Landsbergis, who has been the firmest, most uncompromising Baltic leader, insists he wants all Soviet forces to go home. "Our needs would not be served by having Soviet troops here," he says. "I would like to see the withdrawal begin this year." Landsbergis conceded, however, that it might not be completed until all Soviet forces are pulled back from Germany around the end of 1994. The troops withdrawing from the West will need staging areas along their supply lines. Latvian President Anatoli Gorbunovs was less insistent. After talks with new Cabinet ministers in Moscow, he said that his country might allow the Soviet armed forces to use its bases during an extended transition period and that a status-of-forces treaty would be signed. Other local officials suggest offering base rights to Soviet naval and air units with the idea of earning hard currency from the leases. That question--how to earn money and make their way in the world--is the toughest one facing the Balts. Their road to independence has been hard and bloody, and the jubilation that followed their success was short-lived. They have virtually no natural resources, few products good enough for export to the West and little hard currency to pay for their needs on the world market. No matter how many new embassies open in Vilnius, Riga and Tallinn, the Baltics will remain dependent on trade with the other 12 Soviet republics. About 60% of the Baltics' gross national product comes from trade, almost all of it in raw materials imported from the other Soviet republics and processed goods re-exported to them. Hopes for large-scale foreign investment remain only hopes, in spite of the generous tax exemptions that have been offered over the past year. Baltic officials say Western businessmen have stayed away because of political instability, and it is likely to be a while before many foreigners feel confident enough about the region's future to invest. Perhaps the biggest problem for the Baltics is the oil supply. They import 97% of their fuel and pay for it in rubles at low, centrally subsidized prices. While overall trade between the Baltics and the other republics will probably hold level for some time, oil-rich republics like Russia will want to charge market prices, up to 10 times the present rate, for their fuel. That could cost Lithuania $700 million a year in hard currency it does not have. In July Lithuania charted a new course by signing an economic-cooperation treaty with the Russian republic, and it now hopes to barter food for oil. Latvia is less fortunate, since it doesn't even produce enough grain to feed itself. In Estonia both industrial and agricultural production are declining. To make the burden worse, local officials and what remains of the central government will have to settle who owns which portions of the major Moscow-controlled industries that are based in the Baltics. They include electronics factories, locomotive plants and telecommunications and semiconductor producers. Not only will the Baltic governments have to compensate Moscow for those enterprises, they will have to manage them with a work force that consists overwhelmingly of ethnic Russians who were recruited specifically to move to the Baltics for those jobs. The Russians in the region, though many voted for independence along with the Baltic natives, are feeling isolated and worried about potential persecution. Some Balts do in fact argue loudly that the Russians are colonists and should go home. Last week, in what used to be Lenin Square in Vilnius, a Russian worker said he was thinking seriously of renouncing his Lithuanian citizenship. He pointed to graffiti spray-painted on the base of the Lenin statue that read: RUSSIAN OCCUPIER, GO HOME. He said he knew the attack was aimed at the Communist Party faithful, "but it hurts just the same. It is no comfort to me that whoever wrote this is confused." A treaty between Lithuania and Russia ratified last month guarantees the civil rights of their citizens in both republics. Even so, many of the 1.7 million Russians in the Baltics are already so nervous and fearful of retribution that Yeltsin apparently decided he had to fly to Latvia for two days last week to reassure them. The Baltic governments would welcome some reassurance. On the day the European Community recognized the Baltics, its commission published a report estimating that the three new nations would need financial aid totaling $3 billion to carry them through their painful transition to a market economy. The E.C. invited the Baltic foreign ministers to meet to sign a special agreement on association with the Community. The Balts will attend with high hopes that special association status may bring aid and investment with it. But, wisely, they are hedging their bets. Though all three Baltic countries plan eventually to issue their own currency, they will continue to use the ruble for the immediate future. </body> </article> </text>