Diskusijos po Kovo 11-osios

[Tiesiog_as]

Wycka, uztenka paziureti i tai, koks poziuris yra i baznycia dabartines Rusijos. Nevarzoma baznycia. Kodel zmones mitinguoja pries putina, prisimindami SSRS ? nes issipletes oligarchu tinklas ir darbininkas yra niekas. koks skirtumas yra tas himnas, kada kalbame apie tai, kas valstybeje vyksta ? Manau, SSRS himnas buvo paliktas todel, nes daugelis zmoniu vis dar gyvena nuostalgija SSRS. Tai ir Rusijai buvo vienas is geriausiu laikotarpiu, kad pasaulyje ji buvo viena is supervalstybiu. Tai, kodel himna naikinti ? Jis primena slovingus laikus ? Primena. Arba mes tiesiog vienas kito nesuprantam. As imu dabartineje Rusijoje vykstancius procesus, ideologija esancia ten, su tuom, kas buvo SSRS. Gali but, kad prasilenkiam. Visgi ir putino partija yra desiniuju paziuru.

[Tiesiog_as]

Sula. O gal tiesiog kiekvienas judejimas uz darbininku klases padeties gerinima visiems primena TSRS ir tiek ? Arba gal tiksliau, kad ir kaip tu besuktum socializmo vaira, tu visada atsidursi tokioje padetyje, kurioje idejos bus panasios i TSRS skelbtas idejas, ar ne ?

[Sula]

Arba gal tiksliau, kad ir kaip tu besuktum socializmo vaira, tu visada atsidursi tokioje padetyje, kurioje idejos bus panasios i TSRS skelbtas idejas, ar ne ?

Ne.
Apie panašumą nekalbu - apie esmę.

[Wycka]

Wycka, uztenka paziureti i tai, koks poziuris yra i baznycia dabartines Rusijos. Nevarzoma baznycia. Kodel zmones mitinguoja pries putina, prisimindami SSRS ? nes issipletes oligarchu tinklas ir darbininkas yra niekas. koks skirtumas yra tas himnas, kada kalbame apie tai, kas valstybeje vyksta ? Manau, SSRS himnas buvo paliktas todel, nes daugelis zmoniu vis dar gyvena nuostalgija SSRS. Tai ir Rusijai buvo vienas is geriausiu laikotarpiu, kad pasaulyje ji buvo viena is supervalstybiu. Tai, kodel himna naikinti ? Jis primena slovingus laikus ? Primena. Arba mes tiesiog vienas kito nesuprantam. As imu dabartineje Rusijoje vykstancius procesus, ideologija esancia ten, su tuom, kas buvo SSRS. Gali but, kad prasilenkiam. Visgi ir putino partija yra desiniuju paziuru.

Tamsta taip dažnai keiti temas ir potemes, kad nelabai lengva atsekti minties giją...
Kalbant apie himną. pagal tą pačią analogiją, Austrija taip pat kažkada buvo galinga imperija. Šiandien tokia nebėra. Ar austrai vis dar jaučia kompleksą dėl to? Nemanau. Žinoma, liko rūmai Vienoje, klasikos kompozitorių kūryba, tačiau tik tiek. Dabartinis Austrijos himnas patvirtintas tik 1946m. pabaigoje: http://lt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Austrijos_himnas, nors Austrijos-vengrijos imperija naudojo visai kitą himną: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%96s...e_Kaiserhymnen. Bet čia tik eximperijos pavyzdys. Grįškime prie Rusijos himno. Pirmasis jo variantas sukurtas 1943m., vėliau ne kartą keistas. Sukūrimo metu himnas buvo skirtas bolševikų partijai, tik vėliau jis pritaikytas kaip TSRS himnas. Būtent, kad TSRS, o ne Rusijos TFSR! Pagal logiką, teisės į tą kūrinį jeigu nebepriklauso autoriui, tada visoms ex15 respublikų po lygiai. Aišku, jeigu niekas kitas iki šiol nepareiškė pretenzijos, tai tebūnie kaip yra. Bet kaip atrodytų, jeigu Lietuva savo himnu paskelbtų "Lenkija dar nepražuvo", nes juk be LDK ir Abiejų Tautų Respublikos nieko didingesnio nebesukūrėme?
Pagal Rusijos standartus Putinas gal ir yra dešinysis, bet Vakarų Europoje toks politikas būtų vos ne komunistas. Matyt, komunizmas pernelyg giliai įsišakinijęs Rusijos sąmonėje, kur kas labiau nei kažkada nacizmas Vokietijoje... Beje, ar ne Putino prezidentavimo laikais oligarchams buvo pakirptos uodegos?

[John]

pvz. estija

Pavyzdys geras, nors Estijos pasiekimai tik marginaliai geresni t.y. +-2 metu reikalas.

Prie gerų pavyzdžių galima paminėti Singapūrą, kitus "Azijos Tigrus" (P.Korėją, Taivaną), Airiją... kaip ir viskas. Šia prasme mes neatrodom taip jau blogai. Tiesą sakant, atrodom netgi LABAI neblogai.

[John]

Baigiam pyktis. Kai kuriuos pranešimus ištryniau, bet jie tebėra matomi moderatoriams. Todėl gaklvokit, ką rašot.

[Petrozilijus Cvakelmanas]

Petrozilijau, nori pasakyt, kad ivairios interesu grupes remia partijas, nesitikedamos ju pergales rinkimuose ?? Nemanau.

Noriu pasakyt, kad partijų finansavimas neturi nieko bendro su populizmu. Tai atskira tema ir galima ilgai diskutuoti koks partijų finansavimo modelis yra tinkamiausias, nes tokio, kuris neturėtų trūkumų, nėra.

Zvelgiam toliau, norint laimeti rinkimus, kas Lietuvoje nera taip lengva, reikia pateikti zmonems kuo "lengviau virskinama" programa. Vadinasi, reikia mesti visus pinigus i tai, kad butu suorganizuota suprantama kiekvienam programa. Tai yra jau vienas is svarbiausiu populizmo pozymiu. Nei konservai, nei dar kas nors nesiorientuoja i savo tiesiogine ideologija, tiesiog kiekvienos partijos tikslas yra laimeti rinkimus bet kokia kaina, o kaip tu juos laimesi ? supaprastindamas programa iki visiems suprantamos ir tinkamos daugeliui zmoniu, o ne grupelej.

Iš dalies esi teisus, bet pernelyg viską supaprastini. Visų pirma, programos pateikimas suprantama forma nėra populizmas. Populizmas yra, viena vertus, akivaizdžiai nerealių pažadų dalijimas (per dieną pakelsim atlyginimus, per 11 dienų išnaikinsim korupciją etc) ir, antra vertus, įgyvendinamų, tačiau realios naudos neduodančių pasiūlymų teikimas. Kaip pavyzdys galėtų būti Valinsko siūlymas sumažinti Seimo narių skaičių, Paulausko referendumas dėl Seimo narių atšaukimo arba Grybauskaitės užsispyrimas dėl tiesioginių mero rinkimų nekreipiant dėmesio į gerokai svarbesnį klausimą - tiesiogiai renkamų merų kompetenciją.

sutinku, kad yra ivairios tarnybos, kurios yra tiesiogiai atsakingos uz korupcija. taciau, kaip mateme, jeigu yra dirbama neefektyviai, ivairiu institucijose dirbanciu zmoniu galvos lekia labai greitai, ypac, jeigu to nori valdzioje esantys. visi nori aplinkui susisodinti savus. kadangi tiek vsd, tiek bet kuri kita tarnyba turi atsiskaityti seimui ar tai prezidentui, galime sakyti, kad prezidento ar seimo veiksmai gali tiesiogiai itakoti vienus ar kitus saugumo institiciju sprendimus. i

Visų pirma, tiesiogiai įtakoti teisėsaugos institucijų sprendimų Seimas neturi teisės. Antra, labai gerai būtų, jei galvos lėktų tada, kada institucija dirba neefektyviai. Paskutiniu metu galvos kur kas greičiau lekia tada, kai kyla koks nors skandalas (kas nebūtinai reiškia, jog visa sistema dirba blogai). Netgi toks garbus teisininkas kaip Šedbaras kažkodėl pasidavė bandos jausmui ir rimčiausiu veidu aiškino, kad lakmuso popierėlis visos prokuratūros (!) veiklai yra viena rezonansinė byla. Tai yra absurdas. Bet vėlgi, grįžtant prie temos, netgi pakeitus nekompetetingą vadovą geresniu rezultatai neateis per dieną.

Prie ko cia tie karveliai? Isrinktieji valdzon rupinasi savo gerove, o daugumai net nesudaro salygu siekti ju geroves. Niekas gi ir nepraso visus uz dyka delikatesais maitinti...

Kokių tau sąlygų ir kas nesuteikia? Ko TAU konkrečiai trūksta, kad pradėtum kurti savo gerovę?

Visgi per pastaruosius kelis metus samoningai yra vykdoma Lietuvos ir jos zmoniu menkinimo, nepilnavertiskumo kompleskos formavimo programa (zydsaudziai, raistai, homofobai, netolerantiski ir t.t ir pan.)

Kuom nors gali pagrįsti? Aš, kaip Lietuvos žmogus, kažkaip nesijaučiu nei nepilnaverčiu, nei žydšaudžiu, nei homofobu.

[Aš]

Ypatingai juoktis šiou atveju neverta, nes rusai vykdo ypač agresyvią informacinę kampaniją. Atkreipkite dėmesį: NEI VIENO kadro iš normalios šventės, viskas tik iš Paleckio mitingo, na ir plius kažkokia rusakalbių šeima paporino "kaip cherova gyvenci v Litve"...

Visokie paleckiai tėra klounai, kuriems leidžiama juokinti visuomenę tol, kol pastarieji neperžengia tam tikrų ribų. Nors aš, VSD vietoje, jau imčiausi veiksmų (o jie arba jų ėmėsi taip profesionaliai, kad mes apie tai nieko nežinome, arba nesiėmė).

Žiūrint į Lietuvos situaciją ir lyginant ją su likusiomis Baltijos valstybėmis, galima tik džiaugtis esama padėtimi. O etninių rusų liekanos, kurių ir taip kasmet tendencingai mažėja, nepatenkintos gyvenimu Lietuvoje ir nenusiteikusios prisidėti prie jos gerovės plėtros ar nesijaučiančios šios valstybės dalimi, gali čiuožti į Sibirą ar dar kur nors, kur tik jų širdis geidžia.

Kur kas labiau mane neramina įvykiai kaimynystėje:

[oranger]

Kur kas labiau mane neramina įvykiai kaimynystėje:
Atvaizdas

O kodėl jie su Rusijos vėliavomis? Ar tai specialiai atvykęs desantas iš Rusijos?

Dar šiandien skaičiau, kad Rygoje buvo ir Lietuvos vėliavų. Įdomu, ar ten iš tikro buvo lietuviai, ar tai tiesiog provokacija su tikslu parodyti, kad lietuviai irgi priskiriami prie "fašistų"?

[Al1]

Kokių tau sąlygų ir kas nesuteikia? Ko TAU konkrečiai trūksta, kad pradėtum kurti savo gerovę?

Ar as apie save rasau? Taciau man ne tas pats, kas vyksta aplinkui.

Kuom nors gali pagrįsti? Aš, kaip Lietuvos žmogus, kažkaip nesijaučiu nei nepilnaverčiu, nei žydšaudžiu, nei homofobu.

Tu gal TV neziuri, gal spaudos neskaitai, radijo neklausai? Kasdien tai vienoje tai kitoje ziniasklaidos priemoneje bus verslenimu apie tai, kad Lietuvoje nera tolerancijos, pilna diskriminacijos lytines orientacijos pagrindu, kokie lietuviai rasistai ir kt. Patikek, ilgai kartojamos tokios litanijos duoda savo ir kai kurie nesusiprateliai ima itiketi, kad mes is tiesu esame tokie...

[John]

"Fašistais" tuose plačiuose Rusijos sluoksniuose yra laikomi visi, kurie nors kažkiek drįsta tiesiogiai kvestionuoti Rusiškąją/Sovietinę istorijos versiją. Nieko naujo.

[Al1]

Uztat demokratiniu Vakaru istorijos versija yra teisingiausia...

[oranger]

Uztat demokratiniu Vakaru istorijos versija yra teisingiausia...

Keista gyventi Europos Sąjungoje bet vadovautis rusų šovinistine istorijos versija.
Tokiu atveju reikia arba keisti gyvenamąją vietą arba keistis pačiam.

[John]

Keista gyventi Europos Sąjungoje bet vadovautis rusų šovinistine istorijos versija.
Tokiu atveju reikia arba keisti gyvenamąją vietą arba keistis pačiam.

Teisingas pastebėjimas.

Šiaip, istorija yra slidus dalykas. Interpretacijų yra pernelyg daug ir skirtingų. Daugelis Lietuvos istorijos interpretacijų Lietuvoje man irgi kelia abejonių.

Visgi, mano supratimu, reiktu orientuotis į tas interpretacijas, kurios randasi labiau civilizuotose, taikiose ir pažangiose šalyse. Rusija čia, deja, automatiškai atkrenta, nes jie apskritai turi didelių problemų su savo identiteto ir vietos paieškomis (turint omeny, akd tai didelė valstybė), jau nekalbant apie istorijos interpretavimą.

[Wycka]

Šiaip, istorija yra slidus dalykas.
Rusija turi didelių problemų su savo identiteto ir vietos paieškomis (turint omeny, akd tai didelė valstybė), jau nekalbant apie istorijos interpretavimą.

Rusija — tai valstybė, kurios istoriją sudėtinga prognozuoti

[praetor]

O kodėl jie su Rusijos vėliavomis? Ar tai specialiai atvykęs desantas iš Rusijos?

Dar šiandien skaičiau, kad Rygoje buvo ir Lietuvos vėliavų. Įdomu, ar ten iš tikro buvo lietuviai, ar tai tiesiog provokacija su tikslu parodyti, kad lietuviai irgi priskiriami prie "fašistų"?

Beje, pastebėjo kas, kad šįmet per skinų eitynes Katedros aikštėj ir aplinkinėm gatvėm plevėsavo dar ir Švedijos vėliava?

[praetor]

Rusija — tai valstybė, kurios istoriją sudėtinga prognozuoti

Arba Maskovskaja citata "rasiju umom neponiat"

[John]

The Economist skyrė išamų straipsnį Lietuvos nepriklausomybės 20-mečio proga

Back on the map

How an invisible country rocked the world
Mar 16th 2010 | From The Economist online

Day one

EARTHQUAKES are a horrible way of changing the physical landscape—but geopolitical ones can have marvellous results. Lithuania has just celebrated the 20th anniversary of its declaration of renewed independence, when late in the evening of March 11th 1990, deputies of the “Supreme Soviet” of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic voted unanimously to dump the symbols of Soviet rule and to restore their country’s independence.

Not so hopeless now

It seemed a hopeless gesture at the time. But the seismic shocks shattered the Soviet Union, bringing freedom, or at least the chance of it, to 15 new countries. It put Lithuania—literally—back on the world map, from which it had been wiped by its forcible annexation by the Soviet Union in 1940.

A poignant exhibition in the parliament building shows the mass murder, deportations, collectivisation, forced atheism and unrelenting propaganda inflicted on Lithuania under Soviet rule. It also shows the determination to resist. Particular moving are the souvenirs created by Lithuanians in the Gulag, bearing national symbols and the red-green-yellow colours of the national flag. Possession of that flag, or let alone humming the old national anthem, was a criminal offence.

Yet that flag, along with those of Latvia and Estonia, was visible in in the lobby of the American State Department throughout the period of Soviet occupation. (America, like almost all western countries, never formally recognised the Baltic states’ incorporation in the Soviet Union). Thanks to that non-recognition policy, a dwindling handful of elderly diplomats in moribund embassies, chiefly in Washington, DC, the Vatican and Britain, retained their diplomatic status, living and working in a kind of limbo which all too easily seemed futile. One of their few real jobs was issuing passports, carried with pride by Lithuanian emigres, though seldom used in practice.

As the Soviet Union crumbled, old Lithuania stirred: neither gone, nor forgotten, just buried. Huge demonstrations began to challenge the Soviet occupiers. Political prisoners returned from Siberia. Independent media emerged, and began overturning the systematic lies and propaganda of the past. In late 1989 the Communist Party turned against its masters in Moscow and then split. In elections to the Supreme Soviet, the candidates endorsed by the pro-independence “Sajudis” movement (pictured in 1990, above) swept the board. On March 11th, barely 24 hours after they first convened, the new members restored the pre-war coat of arms, ripping down the hammer and sickle from the building’s entrance. Then—to the amazement of the outside world—they declared the pre-war republic re-established with immediate effect.

Had it all gone wrong, those men and women would have been the first to suffer. Some of them had been born in Siberia, the children of parents deported there for no other reason than that they had been officials in the prewar republic. But bravery aside, what the gesture meant in practice was unclear. Lithuania had no money, no state institutions, no experience, no means of defending itself. The KGB was still a threatening presence, housed, appropriately, in the building that had once been the Gestapo headquarters. The Lithuanian authorities’ power was dependent on the Soviet military staying in their barracks. Initially, only a few hunting rifles and sandbags defended the parliament. Lithuania’s borders were still under Soviet command. Anyone wanting to cross them needed a Soviet visa. There was one exception. On March 28th, your correspondent managed to enter the country, gaining Lithuanian visa 0001. Using visa 0002 had to wait for more than a year, until the Soviet Union collapsed in August 1991.

The effusive congratulations for the 20th anniversary belie the fact that at the time most outsiders reacted not with cheers but a mixture of caution and outright horror. The top priority for most countries was not supporting a forgotten country’s quixotic quest for freedom. It was to keep the embattled Mikhail Gorbachev in power in the Kremlin, and his hardline opponents out of it. Following the fall of the Berlin wall, Germany was gingerly negotiating the terms of reunification. That depended on Soviet consent.

Foreigners counselled the Baltic states to play it slow and soft. Better to be autonomous in a Soviet Union where glasnost and perestroika (openness and reform) were ascendant than to aim for the seemingly impossible goal of restoring full statehood. Lithuanians disagreed. As Vytautas Landsbergis, the first head of state of the reborn republic, put it during the celebrations, “they offered a reform of the prison regime. We didn’t want to be in the prison at all”.

Yet the gamble paid off. Barely 14 months later, a failed putsch in Moscow left the Soviet Union in ruins. The Russian leader Boris Yeltsin displaced Mr Gorbachev in the Kremlin. He wanted independence for his country from the Soviet Union too. Almost overnight, the Baltic states were back on the map. It was as if Atlantis had reemerged from the depths of the sea and applied to join the United Nations. A lot to celebrate indeed.


Day two


The seat of power

THE centre of the celebrations was the parliament. Most senior positions there and in the government are still held by people who featured prominently in the independence struggle. They look a lot less tired and worried now. They are also a lot better dressed. Sleek designer glasses have replaced clunky Soviet-era spectacles. Dreadful dentistry has given way to shiny white teeth. Grey shoes and white socks—once a common combination—have vanished. Shabby polyster suits are in the same dustbin of history as the Soviet Union.


In those days the “Supreme Council” building (pictured, right) was rank with cigarette smoke, sweat, cheap Soviet perfume (seemingly applied by the litre) and the lingering smells of boiled cabbage and stewed tea from the cafeteria. All that has gone, along with the improvised defences that used to ring the building. These were built, Lego-style, out of huge prefabricated concrete structures from a nearby building site, under the direction of a mysterious and energetic American who was rumoured to have a military engineering background. They were backed up by what purported to be a minefield. The sign “Stop-Mines!” was in Lithuanian only—a language that attacking Russian soldiers would be unlikely to understand.

The parliamentary guards of those days—twitchy, unkempt and armed with only rudimentary weapons—were the nucleus of what later became Lithuania’s armed forces and security service. Both outfits are in a mess. Swingeing defence cuts have left Lithuania’s military able to do its NATO duty in Afghanistan, but not to defend the country—something that infuriates the Estonians, who still spend the NATO-mandated 2% of GDP on defence. Lithuania, like the other Baltic states, is now gaining formal contingency plans from NATO and big American land exercises are planned for later this year. But outsiders’ willingness to risk blood and treasure in the Baltic may fade if the locals show so little desire to provide their share.

In the security service, the VSD, a huge political row is raging over the so-called “Valstybininkai”—a tightknit group of hawkish senior security officials and advisors. Their nickname is all but untranslatable into English, but could be rendered as “Men of State”. They played a key role in deposing an elected president, Rolandas Paksas, in 2004, supposedly because of ties (which he denies) with Russian intelligence and organised crime. Now they are enmeshed in a scandal over a CIA compound in a suburb of Vilnius, which may have been a secret prison. News of its existence was leaked in America, to the despair of Lithuanian officials. Not that it was very secret: the Americans had acquired the building through a shell company in Panama, engaged in highly conspicuous and unusual construction work, and asked the electricity utility to wire the building up with an American-style 110-volt power supply. Short of putting a neon light on the roof saying, “CIA—your security in safe hands”, it could hardly have been more conspicuous.

Some of the Valstybininkai may face criminal charges relating to abuse of power; others have been exiled to postings in faraway countries. Lithuania is a hugely pro-American country, and many might think that turning the odd dirty trick for the country’s most important ally was nothing to get too excited about. Though the group may have got overly self-important, they still enjoy great respect in many quarters (not least abroad) for their brains and patriotism. Some scent a vendetta by Lithuania’s president, Dalia Grybauskaite. Since her election last year she has seized on the issue. She also wants to improve her country’s ties with big European states such as France and Germany—and with Russia. Nobbling the VSD could be part of that, say her critics.

But what worries even the most solidly Atlanticist Lithuanians is the mystery around the presumed murder of a senior VSD officer, Vytautas Pociunas, in Belarus on August 23rd 2006. His family and friends believe that his death (falling from a hotel window) was covered up in order to forestall an investigation into a scandal in the VSD. Conspiracy theories abound, involving secret cabals of homosexuals, Russian penetration and high-level corruption. Others think that he was murdered by the Russians, or the Belarussians, in order to sow confusion in Lithuania. If so, that certainly succeeded. More than three years after his death, the issue continues to sow mistrust, and a certain amount of fear.


Day three

CENTRING celebrations around Lithuania’s parliament leaves Ms Grybauskaite in an unusual position: off stage. A former European commissioner, she trades on her image as a political outsider, running against the old-boys club that dominates public life. Without a political machine behind her, she needs to keep her popularity high. Many Lithuanians appreciate her boldness and bluntness, as well as her squeaky-clean image. Unmarried and childless, she has no relatives to embarrass her with dodgy business dealings. Her success in a big job overseas gives her credibility. In a country where politicians are prone to self-enrichment, she does not even draw her full salary. Her tactical skills are formidable—she fought and won a sharp battle to get rid of the country’s high-profile foreign minister, Vygaudas Usackas (who is now the European Union’s envoy to Afghanistan).


But where was Saakashvili?

That leaves her (at least in her own eyes) as the unquestioned leader of Lithuania’s foreign policy. But to what end? By Lithuanian standards, she is not a great Atlanticist. Her priority is to develop the country’s ties with the EU, especially France and Germany. She shows little interest in causes that have been at the centre of Lithuanian concerns in previous years, such as promoting Georgia. To the displeasure of Georgia’s friends in the region, she did not invite President Mikheil Saakashvili to the celebrations (though the parliament invited heavyweight Georgian lawmakers). Instead she invited Alyaksandr Lukashenka, the autocratic president of neighbouring Belarus—and Dmitri Medvedev of Russia.

The reasoning behind this is interesting. Ms Grybauskaite said she would go to Moscow on May 9th for the 65th anniversary celebrations of the end of the war if Mr Medvedev would come to Lithuania to celebrate the events of March 11th. He said no, quite politely, and in turn invited her to come to Russia at a time of her choosing. That could be quite a victory: May 9th is not a great day of celebration for the Baltic states, where many see it as irredeemably tainted with the Soviet (and Stalinist) view of the war, in which the three little countries bounced like shuttlecocks between two totalitarian empires. So Ms Grybauskaite avoids the embarrassment of being pictured against the pictures of Stalin which are likely to adorn the Moscow streets. And she gets a chance to talk properly to Mr Medvedev in more congenial surroundings.

But if the price of good relations with Russia is snubbing Georgia, many Lithuanians will balk. Georgia’s plight—divided and part-occupied—could easily have been the Baltic states’. Even those who bemoan Mr Saakashvili’s flaws still care about the country he leads. The speaker of the Georgian parliament, David Bakradze, gained a rapturous reception from a big crowd at an outdoor concert in Vilnius on March 11th. Mr Saakashvili would have had an even bigger one.

Ms Grybauskaite’s invitation to Mr Lukashenka, oddly, was less controversial. Lithuania has rather good relations with Belarus, despite being a base for efforts to aid the opposition there. (Another scandal around the VSD concerns the alleged misappropriation of American money paid to that cause). Lithuania was the only NATO country to be invited to observe the big and threatening military manoeuvres mounted last autumn by Russia and Belarus. Showing the Belarussian authorities that close ties with Russia are not the only option is a good idea: it is strongly supported by neighbouring Poland.

That is another priority for Ms Grybauskaite. Poland and Lithuania should be great friends. They share a long history. From a cultural point of view, they are in some ways indistinguishable (Poland’s best known poem starts, “Lithuania, O my fatherland”). But ties are oddly tense. Lithuanians, with unhappy memories of past Polonisation, have never delivered on repeated promises to sort out an arcane dispute about spelling. That infuriates Polish officials. The Conservative Party, which leads the governing coalition, is deeply divided on the issue. But it may have to swallow its pride: the votes of two Polish deputies are essential if it is to have a working majority.

[John]

Ir dar vienas

Europe.view

Incompetent visionaries

Twenty years after declaring independence, Lithuania is discovering the value of pragmatism
Mar 18th 2010 | From The Economist online

LITHUANIA thinks big. In the days of the late lamented Grand Duchy, it stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea. That was in the 12th century. But its ability to grasp the big picture remains. This is why, on March 11th 1990, the newly elected Supreme Soviet of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic voted unilaterally to restore the country’s pre-war independence, with immediate effect.

That horrified most outsiders, who were more concerned about keeping Mikhail Gorbachev in power in the Soviet Union and his hardline rivals out of it. It also displeased Estonia and Latvia. Their big population of Soviet-era migrants made them want to take things more slowly: Lithuania was 80% Lithuanian in 1989, whereas ethnic Latvians were almost a minority in their own country.


Let's get things done

But in retrospect Lithuania’s move was right. The seismic shock of a Soviet republic voting to secede showed that the Soviet Union was finished. It made talk of a sovereign and independent Russia seem real, not fanciful.

Lithuanian leaders’ practical abilities have not always matched their vision. Policy changes like flat taxes, currency reform and privatisation came slower than in the other two Baltic states. Foreign policy has been brave but clumsy. In 2006-07 Lithuania repeatedly brought the business of the European Union to a halt to try to bring attention to escalating conflict in Georgia. That was prescient—but communicated with amateurishness.

All post-independence Vilnius governments have had trouble with Poland. Despite centuries of common history, ties between the countries are oddly twitchy. Poles, more mindful of their own suffering than that of others, forget that from a Lithuanian point of view they can seem like a bullying cultural hegemon. Lithuanians, also prone to introversion, have never delivered on repeated promises to sort out arcane disputes about spelling and property rights affecting the country’s ethnic Poles, who number nearly a tenth of the population. (For example, may they write their names with Polish letters such as “ę” “ą” and “ł”, or are they restricted to the Lithuanian alphabet?) That is all the odder given the avowed pragmatism of Lithuania’s foreign policy under Dalia Grybauskaite (pictured, above), the country’s steely and popular president, who was elected last year.

More typical of Ms Grybauskaite’s approach was the conspicuous absence of Georgia’s president, Mikheil Saakashvili, from the celebrations to mark the anniversary of the March 11th vote. Mr Saakashvili’s cause has long been championed by Lithuania. The official line from the president’s palace is that only heads of state from neighbouring countries and fellow EU members were invited. That meant invitations (not accepted) for Russia’s Dmitry Medvedev and Alyaksandr Lukashenka of Belarus, but not for the leader of Georgia. (At an open-air concert, David Bakradze, the speaker of Georgia’s parliament, gained an enthusiastic reception, suggesting that public and official approaches differ.)

Lithuania has paid a high price for its past approach of principled incompetence; the desire for a quiet life now is understandable. Ms Grybauskaite reckons that good relations with EU partners like France and Germany are vital. She wants to visit Russia soon, too (though not until after the May 9th Stalin-tinged celebrations of the Soviet victory in 1945). She thinks that boycotting the Belarusian autocrat is futile. The government hopes to rein in some of her more headstrong tendencies, but agrees broadly that pragmatism is the way ahead.

Is it too much to hope that this approach could clear up the row with Poland? That could bring the Baltic states into the emerging, Polish-led, Central European alliance around the old Visegrad grouping. A strong Polish-Lithuanian alliance has served Europe well in the past. It could do so again.

[Al1]

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