Russia: the Indispensable ‘Mirror’ of the Baltic Countries

The nerve centre of the ever-tense Baltic-Russian relationship is the 1939-1991 epoch, the period that lasted from the signing of the notorious German-Soviet-Russian Non-Aggression Treaty (the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact), which, according to the three small republics, ushered the beginning of the end of their independence, to the inglorious implosion of the absurdi impeerium, as an Estonian historian once characterized the Soviet Union.

Foto: Den estiske præsident Toomas Ilves besøger hans russiske modpart Dmitri Medvedev i 2008. (Foto: Eesti Presidenti Kantselei)

Did a voluntary accession of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania to the U.S.S.R. take place in Summer 1940, as Russia has stubbornly asserted until the present day, or was it a relentless, unscrupulous occupation, followed by an illegitimate annexation? Did Stalin and his Red Army liberate the Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians from Nazism in 1944, or does this achievement pale into insignificance beside the repression and deportation that the three nations had to endure? Are Communism and Nazism/Fascism interchangeable evils, both to blame for the outbreak of World War II, as many Baltic politicians, journalists and scholars have been claiming, or not?

Delicate modern history-related questions of this kind have cast a long, dark shadow over Baltic-Russian relations since 1991 and have influenced nearly all of their facets.[1] This could be discerned, for instance, during the endless, often emotional debates surrounding the negotations on and concluding of the Border Treaties with Russia and the issue of the position of the Russian-speaking minorites on Estonian and Latvian soil. Stressing the unlawfulness of the annexation of 1940 and the uninterrupted validity of the Peace Treaties of 1920 (by means of signing these, Soviet Russia unconditionally recognized the independence of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania) implied, strictly speaking, rejecting the territorial ‘corrections’ of the second half of the 1940s (Estonia lost territories east of the Narva river and in Petserimaa, in the southeast, to the Russian Socialist Repubic, Latvia the northeastern region of Abrene) and labelling the arrival of Soviet immigrants an illegal act.[2] The wish to undo these Soviet ‘left-overs’ has never fully disappeared, yet political reality dictated tact and cautiousness; the European Union, NATO, the Council of Europe and the CSCE/OSCE would never have accepted an invasion of the lost territories or an expulsion of minority groups.


Drawing Baltic Borders
Meanwhile, a modus vivendi on these two issues has been reached. Latvia finally signed a border treaty with Russia in March 2007, Estonia will follow on 18 February of this year, after an earlier attempt had failed in 2005.[3] Back then, the Russian Government refused to send the treaty (sealed by Foreign Minister Paet and his Russian counterpart Lavrov on 18 May) to the Duma for ratification, since it was infuriated by the decision of the Riigikogu, Estonian Parliament, to add a kind of preamble, which contained three indirect references the Tartu Peace Treaty of February 1920 i.e. to the legal continuity of the Republic of Estonia. Estonian legal experts have confirmed, however, that it is possible to make a distinction between the de facto border and the issue of state continuity, including the de jure border.[4] The result will most probably be an ‘agree to disagree’, focused on practical cross-border cooperation, leaving ‘legal theory’ aside. Russia’s criticism of the ‘discrimination’ of the Russian-speaking minorities (a criticism which has never been endorsed by the EU and NATO) has become a predictable ritual, mainly meant for propaganda purposes and hardly evoking serious frictions anymore (like it did in the 1990s). Still, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania have not relinquished the idea of the continuing validity of the Treaties of 1920 and will adhere to their tough naturalization procedures and linguistic stipulations vis-à-vis the ‘Soviet immigrants’ (Lithuania, that faced a smaller immigration wave during the Soviet Era and thus managed to safeguard the dominance of the titular nation, introduced a more flexible Citizenship Law).


The modus vivendi/equanimity regarding the border and minorities issues has not resulted in a more structural improvement of Baltic-Russian relations. President Putin’s gradual return to Derszjavnost, Russia’s traditional self-confident, missionary great power politics, and his professional, Brezhnevite instrumentalization of the Soviet past, especially of the Great Patriotic War against the Third Reich, has only nourished Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian distrust of Russia.


Russia’s changing view of NATO  

The still tougher approach of Russia is quite a contrast with the cautiously optimistic mood of 2000-2002, the early days of Vladimir Putin’s Presidency. The then new Head of State even alluded to an acceptance of NATO enlargement with the three ex-Soviet republics, which even ‘pro-Western’ Boris Yetsin had tried to thwart. Putin, not wrongfully, assumed that closer Russian-American cooperation in the War on Terror would alleviate the impact of the second post-Cold War enlargement round and would provide Moscow with influence on the NATO decision-making process. NATO’s involvement in remote places like Afghanistan and its growing role as a political forum might also affect the alliance’s classic defence tasks and military role and thus indirectly weaken the position of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. ‘Will Estonia really be able to meet the threats of terrorism and proliferation [of weapons of mass destruction] better, if it will be a member of NATO? I don’t think so, but if you think that is the case, you have the right to join NATO’, Putin said to an Estonian newspaper. He was also aware that for the time being, Russia’s fragile economy, that was recovering of the disastruous crisis of the late 1990s, would be dependent on investments form the West. A Lithuanian researcher felt tempted to claim that Russia had finally managed to control its surges of self-aggrandisement and anti-americanism.[5]

            That turned out to be a premature conclusion. The notion of NATO/the United States as the Hereditary Enemy, still widely spread in political and military circles in Russia, would not evaporate. They found it intolerable that Bush, Cheney and the ideologically activist Neocons were not willing to pay the logical price for Russia’s generosity: no further Western advances on the territory of the former U.S.S.R. On the contrary, Washington welcomed the revolutions in Georgia (2003) and Ukraine (2004) and seemed eager to absorb these strategically important countries into its (rivalling) sphere of influence. Moscow was not granted the priviliged status based on equality that it was longing for. It felt passed by and betrayed – also because most new NATO (and EU) member states in Central and Eastern Europe, its former satellites, were enthusiastically encouraging Washington (and Brussels) to liberate Georgia and Ukraine from the claws of the Russian Bear for good. From the Kremlin’s point of view a dangerous zero-sum game had manifested itself, a tendency to which President Putin also hinted in his legendary speech the annual Sicherheitskonferenz in Munich in 2007.[6] The balance between moderate liberal internationalism and occassional eruptions of nationalism that the Yeltsin years and the early Putin years had been disturbed for good.

The Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation of 2010 confirms the tendency towards zero-sum thinking. It is explicitly mentioning ‘The desire […] to move the military infrastructure of NATO member countries closer to the borders of the Russian Federation, including by expanding the bloc’ (Article 8a) and ‘A show of military force with provocative objectives in the course of exercises on the territories of states contiguous with the Russian Federation or its allies’ (Article 10d) as motivating Russian military dispositions,


The Baltic response to Russian pressure

It goes without saying that Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania have witnessed this mixture of assertive Derszjavnost and growing political self-awareness, further boosted by the successful exploitation of Russia’s gas and oil bonanza, with grave concern. The invasion of Georgia in August 2008 caused near-panic in the three republics and indicated that Russia was even prepared to go one step further: employing aggressive means against small neighbouring states that dare to flirt with NATO, in order to forestall what Russia views as a possible hostile encirclement. The suspension of the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe by Russia, the possible deployment of Iskander M (SS-26) missiles in the Kaliningrad exclave and the Pskov region, ever closer military cooperation with Belarus, which might provide Russia with a forward defence, and the Ladoga and Západ war games near the Baltic borders are symptomatic of the shifting political mood in the East as well.    

            But would a Russia flexing its muscles and returning to the style of Prince Gorshakov and Andrei Gromyko really shock Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania? The answer is no. It may sound odd, but to a certain extent Russia’s alienation from the West has come as a relief to many Balts, as a corroboration of common knowlegde. The combination of two centuries of domination by Czarist Russia (1710-1918)[7] and the imprisonment in the Soviet Union – a traumatic experience that since the late 1980s has been amplified by the introduction of commemorative rituals and the publication i.e. appearance of an endless stream of books, documentaries, films, etc. cultivating ‘Siberian Martyrdom’ – had already debouched into an extremely negative, sarcastic perception of political developments in Russia in general. From an almost apocalyptic perspective, any development in Russia has constantly been associated with the inevitable collapse of (remaining) democracy in Russia and with an authoritarian étatisme that has hardly changed over the past centuries. The unstable, surrealistic situation under the Yeltsin Presidency with the ultranationalists and communists gaining ground meant the definitive breakthrough of this negative approach of Russian politics. ‘Europe cannot afford to forget the experiences with Nazi-Germany of the 1930s. We should not repeat the mistakes of the past’, Mart Laar, Prime Minister of Estonia, declared in December 1993, after he heard of the landslide victory of Vladimir Zhirinovski’s ‘Liberal Democratic’ Party at the Duma elections.[8] President Lennart Meri spoke of ‘Fascism being on the rise’ and recommended the West to listen to the Baltic countries more carefully, if they would comment again on developments in Russia. Meri, probably the most outspoken advocate of Estonia’s ‘return to Europe’, advised Western leaders to modify expectations regarding the flourishing of democracy in Russia; how would they react, if a major political party in Germany would propagate the restoration of the borders of the Third Reich? Prior to the first parliamentary elections in post-Soviet Russia, Meri had already warned for ‘the withdrawal of democratic forces in Russia, much to the benefit of an aggressive perception of foreign policy, evidently aimed at neo-colonialism.’[9]

            Many years later, Estonia and its Baltic Brethren have not seen any need to mitigate their tone – quite the contrary. Boris Yeltsin was given the benefit of the doubt, since he bravely supported the Baltic strive for restoration of independence (although this was also a marriage of convenience: Yeltsin needed allies in his power struggle with Gorbachev), but former KGB agent Vladimir Putin has been considered as a typical representative of Russia’s harmful autocratic tradion from the outset. His centralistic ‘managed democracy’ seamlessly fits in with the pessimistic observations of the political climate and the state ofcivil society in the East. An Estonian cultural magazine once compared Putin to Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev: if he could stay in power for eighteen years, Putin, who was already ruling like a patriach and employing the ‘right’ propaganda, should be able to do the same. President Toomas Hendrik Ilves, a political-intellectual protégé of Lennart Meri, wrote in one of his numerous articles: ‘If we think about it, the only real change that has occurred since the turn of the century is the collapse of the Fukuyaman or perhaps more properly the neo-Hegelian dream of an inexorable march toward liberal democracy. […] Russia today no longer aspires to be part of a liberal West; instead it sees its own path as a “managed democracy” based on its own traditions of rule. It sees this path as a model for others and sees liberal democratic rule in former communist lands, especially on its borders, as a threat.’[10]

            The Medvedev Presidency of 2008-2012 did not spark any hopes of change. After Medvedev had been elected, with Putin’s blessing, Mart Laar commented on his weblog that ‘the transfer of power from Putin to Putin went smoothly.’ According to Laar and many others, the invasion of Georgia made clear who was really in charge in the Kremlin. Medvedev’s announcement (September 2011) that Putin would be running for the Presidency in 2012, evoked predictable reactions in the Baltic media – ‘For Russia’s direct neighbours, Putin’s decision didn’t come as a surprise. […] President Medvedev has repeatedly referred to the necessity of political and economic reform, yet it was just talking; concrete steps have never been set.’ It came as a surprise to most analysts that Putin’s re-election of March 2012 triggered large demonstrations in Moscow and St. Petersburg (‘Putins’s golden age seems to be over’; yet most of them reiterated that the new/old President would soon resume his political practices – which he has done with devotion.[11]                  


Baltic Huntingtonians

Many of Russia’s devout criticasters in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, have been yearning for more sophistical, intellectual explanations. They have been susceptible to the Clash of Civilizations theory, named after Samuel Huntington’s famous article in Foreign Affairs (1993) and book (1996) with the same title. The American political scientist explicitly mentions the Baltic countries as being located on the fault line between the West and Eastern Orthodoxe world: ‘This line dates back to the division of the Roman Empire in the fourth century and to the creation of the Roman Holy Empire in the tenth century. […] Beginning in the north, it runs along what are now the borders between Finland and Russia and the Baltic States (Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania) and Russia. […] It is the cultural border of Europe, and in the post-Cold War world it is also the political and economic border of Europe and the West.’[12]

            Huntington’s thesis may be controversial in academia in Western Europe and the United States, not to mention the non-Western world, but has become quite popular in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.Marko Mihkelson, Member of Estonian Parliament on behalf of the conservative party IRL didn’t conceal his inspiration by Huntingtonian thinking: ‘Experience confirms that along the eastern border of Estonia and Latvia runs a line between two cultures substantially different from one another. [...] The way of thinking inherent to the West, including the Baltics, comes from Rome; the Russian from Constantinople, Byzantium.’[13] Russian mentality is, according to the cultural determinists totally in line with Byzantine, Eastern Orthodox thinking, infused with a sense of subordination and has never been open to modernization and rationalization. Given the continuous obstruction by powerful ‘undercurrents’, all attempts to take Russia into the modern age are deemed to failure, as even Peter the Great and Boris Yeltsin experienced: ‘Even though the chain of revolutionary events in 1917 ended with the overthrow of the monarchy, the absolutist power structure as such would soon be restored again, although the new ideological context was considerably more violent than the one of czarism. The Russian Orthodox Church has, in this view, provided a major contribution to the development of the Russian authoritarian stateby combatting dissident ideas relentlessly.[14]

In order to stress Russia’s obsession with itself and its ‘unavoidable’ derailment, Baltic Huntingtonians have brought in Russian and internationally-conducted opinion polls pointing out that that the greater part of the Russians consider their culture as unique and deviating from European culture and norms, and approve of a strong leader who will restore national power and glory in the global arena. Reflections by sinister reactionary political-philosophers like Aleksandr Dugin and ditto political scientist and antiglobalist Aleksandr Panarin on an authoritarian regime being the only remedy for safeguarding national modernization (Dugin) and the necessity to transform Russia into ‘the New Rome’ and to create ‘concentric circles’ around it (Panarin) haven’t gone unnoticed either. In other words: in addition toRussia’s offensive, neo-imperialist Weltanschauung, as reflected in its foreign and defence policy, its Untertanentum mentality as such poses a threat to Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian security. ‘Our bad character is Konstantin Päts [a prominent Estonian politician, who establishment semi-dictatorian rule in 1934, in order to thwart ‘a coup d’etat’ by VAPS, a fascist-orientated organization of war veterans, J.B.], but they have not created anything tangibly positive since the days of Ivan the Terrible’, an Estonian publicist sneered.[15]

Estonia, Latvia, and especially Lithuania, a proud and mighty grandduchy in medieval times, would also hail their ‘historic role’ of watch-towers of Western civilization against the hordes from the East.[16] President Meri posthumously ‘promoted’ the Baltic German knights and barons, and Danish and Swedish rulers to the role as guards of the ‘cultural border’ with Russia – at least their cultural heritage was a positive one. Meri praised the Baltic German community as ‘a cultural bridge [from Europe] to Estonia’ and ‘the spiritual support it offered.’ By playing down the contradistinctions between Baltic Germans and native Estonians, Meri hoped he could portray his country as a legitimate scion of centuries-old Western traditions. Literary scientist and Nietzsche translator Jaan Undusk, in the late President’s slipstream, described the baltisakslased as ardent campaigners for regional autonomy within Czarist Russia and proponents of the Estonian Case.[17] The truth is, though, that until their departure in 1939, the arrogant Baltic German landlords (who were expropriated after the proclamation of independence in 1918) were loathed and hated by the Estonians and Latvians, so therefore Konstantin Päts, Kārlis Ulmanis and other politicians of the First Republics would probably never have conceived such creative thoughts. However, worshipping certain aspects of a period preceding a negatively earmarked period (the Soviet occuptation) is not uncommon. Toomas Hendrik Ilves has taken a more reticent stand and never openly displayed sympathy for Huntington’s contemplations, yet still he called the arrival of German culture in the thirteenth century and the break-through of Lutheranism in the sixteenth century crucial for the coming into being of modern Estonia (‘We are prisoners of our civilization. […] That is why we are behaving the way we are behaving’).[18]



Russia and the shaping of Baltic identities

The kidnapping of (Western) Central Europe by (Eastern) Russia, to paraphrase Milan Kundera’s famous metaphor, is a thing of the past now. The fault line has shifted to the East, back to its ‘natural’ location. Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania solidly anchored themselves in NATO and the EU, the most important symbols of their cultural-philosophical habitat: the West. Yet, the fascination for the fault line has not diminished; Vladimir Putin’s ‘managed democracy’ and intrusive foreign policy triggered a new quest for deeper elucidations. The inference that under Putin, the illiberal Vene idee (‘Russian Idea’) hasexceeded the intellectual domain and has become an integral component of Russian state ideology and will stimulate and justify ‘imperialistic traditions’ could be the only outcome of this (resumed) soul-searching.[19] The embrace of huntingtonianism-reverberating concepts seems to serve a second purpose, however: glancing into the mirror of self-affirmation. Russia’s role here is to ‘assist’ Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania with their confrontational identity building. Russia is the Pre-Eminent Other, as an Estonian scholar epitomized it, implicitly refering to the Freund-Feind (‘Friend-Foe’) theory of German political-philosopher and jurist Carl Schmitt (according to Schmitt, explicitly distinguishing oneself from the Foe is essential for the foundation of national souvereignty).[20] Emphasizing Russia’s Otherness should thus fortify 

the image of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania as flourishing democraties and dynamic, innovative high-tech economies. This confrontational identity building, the cultivating of Soviet victimhood and the perception of an existential threat from the East forms a kind of ‘sacred’ trinity.


It may be asked, whether this huntingtonian paradigm does not blur the complexity of the cultural-historical process. One cannot deny that over the past ten centuries, there have been cultural, religious and intellectuals interractions between the Baltic lands and Russia indeed, including fruitful ones. The Russian principalities exerted religious influence on eastern Estonia and Livonia in the Middle Ages; Russian Old Believers settled down at Lake Peipus in the seventeenth and eighteenth century after the schism with the Russian Orthodox Church; Estonians and Livonians converted to Orthodoxy (sometimes for pragmatic reasons); Tartu/Dorpat University attracted members of the Russian intelligentsia after the Czars had curtailed freedom of expression in the Russian heartland; the Estonian and Livonian elite kept a close eye on political and intellectual developments in St. Petersburg/Petrograd and Moscow in the ninenteenth and early twentieth century; more Estonian emigrants have moved to Russia than to the United States, and the renowned Russian linguist Yuri Lotman came to Tartu in 1950 and brought colleagues and students there into contact with critical minds in the Russian part of the USSR. Soviet and nationalist Russian historians, of course, have deliberately exaggerated the ‘eternal’ cultural-historical links with the Pribaltika – which have only been part of the Czarist Empire for two centuries (Lithuania: 125 years) – but cultural and religious influences they do not stop at borders. More in general, national identity, culture, etc. are not absolute and static phenomena, as Estonian writer Jaan Kaplinski has remarked (‘They are giving and taking’). Kaplinski even notes, provokingly, that ‘West-European civilization has destroyed and enslaved more peoples than any other civilization, including the Russian one.’[21] Only in Lithuania, the impact has been less; there, the Polish past is still posing a major challenge to national identity. 


Europe and Russia

No matter how understandable Baltic suspicion towards Russia is from a historical perspective, one could wonder, as to whether dark-fatalistic, self-affirming abstractions will really be conducive to improving the security situation in the Baltic Sea Region. Russia is not a real democracy, and sometimes it appears that President Putin is following in the footsteps of his dictatorial Belarusian counterpart Lukachenko; yet most ‘old’ EU and NATO member states strive to maintain constructive relations with Russia. Therefore, it will make more sense to address Russia-related (security) issues in Brussels, and to try to convince the ‘postmodern’ partners that Russia’s growing adoration of Derszjavnost will ultimately affect them as well. Russia’s paranoid approach to the EU’s Eastern Partnerships (aimed at deeping ties between the EU and six former Soviet republics), its pressure on Ukraine to join the Eurasian Union, and its disproportionate reactions to the justified criticism by the EU and NATO of Viktor Yanukovitch’ violent ‘crisis management’ in Ukraine[22] might even make the Baltic arguments more persuasive. Recent developments in Ukraine also indicate that moral and practical European support will be more beneficial to the courageous human rights activists in Russia than huntingtonianly-inspired mud throwing.

Lennart Meri was right: The West should listen to Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania more carefully. But Baltic Clash of Civilizations-like presentations of Russia’s blunt behaviour, no matter how ‘useful’ they may be for internal nation building (and political purposes), are neither valuable nor useful.


Jeroen Bult is a Dutch historian specialized in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. He has published numerous articles on their relationship with Russia, their mutual relations, and their policy vis-à-vis the European Union.

[1] See: Jeroen Bult, ‘Everyday Tensions Surrounded by Ghosts from the Past: Baltic-Russian Relations since 1991’, in: Heli Tiirmaa-Klaar & Tiago Marques (Eds.), Global and Regional Security Challenges: A Baltic Outlook, Tallinn: Tallinn University Press, 2006, pp. 127-165.

[2] The arrival of Soviet immigrants is said to contradict Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention of 1949 (‘The Occupying Power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies’).

[3] Lithuania and Russia signed a border treaty in October 1997, and have not had territorial issues since Kaliningrad transit was settled in 2002. However, it took the Duma nearly six years to ratify the 1997 treaty, probably because it hoped such a delay would thwart Lithuania’s NATO accession.

[4] Lauri Mälksoo, ‘Nõustume vastastikuse eriarvamusega’, in: Postimees, 13 March 2013, p. 12; Eesti Vabariigi Õiguskantsler (Õiguskantsleri Kantselei), ‘Õiguskantsler: piirilepingu sõlmimine on kooskõlas põhiseadusega’, 21 May 2013 (

[5] ‘Putin’s Unscrambled Eggs. Russia, NATO and even the Baltic States May End up Friends’, in: The Economist, Nr. 8263 (Vol. 362), 9-15 March 2002, pp. 54-55; ‘Putin Plays a Weak Hand Well’, in: Financial Times, 18 March 2002, p. 13; ‘Putin vastas Postimehele’ (Fookuses: Venemaa on NATO Balti-laienemisega leppinud), in: Postimees, 26 June 2002, p. 2; ‘Maskva nebelaiko Lietuvos “posovietine erdve”’, in: Veidas, Nr. 42 (448), 18-24 October 2001, p. 12.

[6] Janina Šleivytė, Russia’s European Agenda and the Baltic States, Contemporary Russia and Eastern Europe Series, 19, London/New York: Routledge, 2010, pp. 40-42; Karsten J. Møller, ‘Russisk udenrigs- og sikkerhedspolitik: En stormagt vender tilbage’, in: Militært Tidsskrift, Nr. 3 (Vol. 137), October 2008, pp. 300-301 & 312; ‘Wladimir W. Putin, Rede auf der 43. Münchner Konferenz für Sicherheitspolitik’, 10 February 2007 (

[7] Lithuania only became a part of the Czarist Empire in the late eighteenth centry after the accomplishment of the partitions of Poland (with which it formed a dual state).

[8] Mart Nutt, ‘See müstiline Venemaa...’, in: Looming, Nr. 1, January 1990, pp. 129-130; ‘Eesti peaminister palub NATO-lt julgeolekugarantiisid’, in: Postimees, 14 December 1993, p. 1.

[9] ‘Meri Raps CSCE over Faillure to “Spot Fascism”’, in: The Baltic Independent, Nr. 193 (Vol. 4), 24 December 1993-6 January 1994, pp. 1-2; Lennart Meri, ‘Die Zeit zum Handeln ist gekommen. Rußland und die baltischen Staaten’, in:Internationale Politik, Nr.11 (Vol. 50), November 1995, p. 9; ‘Balti presidendid näevad NATO-t peamise julgeolekugarantiina’, in: Päevaleht, 16 December 1993, p. 1; ‘President Lennart Meri avakõne Balti Strateegiliste ja Rahvusvaheliste Uuringute Instituudi esimesel istungil’, in: Postimees, 18 December 1993, p. 2.

[10] ‘Rasputin, Dvaputin, Triputin!’, in: KesKus, Nr.10 (149), October 2007, p. 10; Toomas Hendrik Ilves, ‘Külma sõja järgse ajastu lõpp’, in: Diplomaatia, Nr. 9/10 (49/50), October 2007, p. 2.

[11] ‘Uusvana president. Putini taaskandideerimine presidendiks on ootuspärane’, in: Postimees, 26 September 2011, p. 2; ‘Putin tuleb tagasi! Mis nüüd saab’, in: Eesti Päevaleht, 26 September 2011, p. 2; Välismääraja, Raadio KUKU, 4 maart 2012; ‘Venemaa alfad ja beetad’, in: Eesti Päevaleht, 6 March 2012, p. 2.

[12] Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order, Touchstone Edition, Simon & Schuster, New York 1997, p. 158.   

[13] Marko Mihkelson, ‘Baltic-Russian Relations in the Light of Expanding NATO and EU. Post-Imperial Clash of Different Mentalities’, in: Demokratizatsiya (The Journal of Post-Soviet Democratization), Nr. 2, Spring 2003 (Vol. 11), p. 270.

[14] Ibidem; Marko Mihkelson, ‘Venemaa imperialistlik identiteet ja Lääne võimalused’, in: Diplomaatia, Nr. 20, May 2005, p. 18; Marko Mihkelson, ‘Eesti ja Venemaa – mittemõistmise paratamatus’, in: Jüri Ant & Velly Roots (Eds.), Kaks algust. Eesti Vabariik – 1920. ja 1990. aastad (Eesti Vabariik – 80), Ad Fontes 3, Tallinn: Umara/Eesti Riigiarhiiv, 1998, p. 183; Rein Ruutsoo, ‘(Introduction:) Estonia on the Border of Two Civilizations’, in: Nationalities Papers (Special Topic Issue: Vision and Policies: Estonia’s Path to Independence and Beyond, 1987-1993), Nr. 1 (Vol. 23), March 1995, p. 14.    

[15] Mihhail Lotman, ‘Võimusemiootika eesti ja vene kultuuris’, in: PostimeesArvamus kultuur section, 19 May 2007, pp. 2-3; Raivo J. Raave, ‘Putin ja pustotaa’, in: KesKus, Nr. 4 (117), March 2005, p. 14; Raivo J. Raave, ‘Nooruse juubeldus ja vanad valikud’, in: KesKus, Nr. 3 (143), March 2007, p. 8.

[16] Česlovas Laurinavičius, Raimundas Lopata & Vladas Sirutavičius, ‘Kritinis požiūris į Lietuvos užsienio politiką: kas pasikeitė nuo Augustino Voldemaro laikų?’, in: Politologija, Nr. 2 (54), 2009, p. 99.

[17] David J. Smith, ‘“The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”: European Integration, National Identity and Foreign Policy in Post-Communist Estonia’, in: The Journal of Communist Studies and Transition Politics, Nr. 3 (Vol. 19), September 2003, p. 160; Lennart Meri, ‘Eurooplase mõtted Saksamaast’ (Peokõne Saksamaa taasühinemise 5. aastapäeval, 3. oktoobril 1995), in: Lennart Meri (Toomas Kiho (Ed.)), Presidendikõned, Eesti mõttelugu 9, Tartu: Ilmamaa, 1996/2005, pp. 504-505; Karsten Brüggemann, ‘“Wir brauchen viele Gesichten.” Estland und seine Geschichte auf dem Weg nach Europa?’, in: Helmut Alrrichter (Ed.), GegenErinnerung. Geschichte als politisches Argument im Transformationsprozeß Ost, Ostmittel- und Südosteuropas, Schriften des Historischen Kollegs, Kolloquien 61, Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006, pp. 35-37.

[18] Toomas Hendrik Ilves, ‘Murrangujoonel: Samuel Huntingtoni tsivilisatsioonide kokkupõrgetest’, in: Toomas Hendrik Ilves, Eesti jõudmine. Kõned ja kirjutised aastaist 1986-2006, Tallinn: Varrak, 2006, p. 93.

[19] Andres Herkel, ‘Vene idee’, in: Diplomaatia, Nr. 11 (38), October 2006, pp. 5-6.

[20] Jevgenia Viktorova, Transformation or Escalation? The Estonian-Russian Border Conflict and European Integration, Working Paper Series in EU Border Conflicts Studies Nr. 21, Birmingham: University of Birmingham, 2006, pp. 4 & 15.

[21] Jaan Kaplinski, ‘Euroopa piirid ja piirivalvurid’, in: Eesti Ekspress (Areen Section), Nr. 41 (722), 9 October, p. B4.

[22] ‘Sommet sous tension entre l’Union européenne et la Russie à Bruxelles’, in: Le Monde, 28 January 2014, p. 3.