The Baltic Way is not just a very personal, emotional watershed moment for many of people in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, but also for at least one person from Germany. The then 19-year-old Frank Drauschke happened to be in Latvia on 23 August 1989 and experienced the peaceful demonstration against the Soviet Union live on the ground.
"I was standing in the middle of the centre of Riga, behind the Freedom Monument, and there was part of this human chain," recalls the historian from East Berlin who eye-witnessed and joined the historic event. "It was incredibly impressive to be there. For me as a GDR citizen, it was the first free demonstration ever."
The Baltic Way was one of the most ambitious, non-violent resistance actions in the history of the 20th century. Around two million people were joining hands and demonstrated for their freedom by forming a 600-kilometre-long human chain across Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, showing to the world their determination to regain their independence. The peaceful mass protest was specifically planned on 23 August to mark a painful date in Baltic history. On the same day in 1939, the notorious Molotov-Ribbentrop pact was signed between the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany, which effectively leading to the Soviet occupation of the Baltics.
Despite initial calls for freedom and democracy in the German Democratic Republic (GDR), such a huge demonstration was still unthinkable at that time in Drauschke's home country that four decades after its foundation found itself amidst a severe political and economic crisis. Dissatisfaction with the East Germany's governing socialist power was growing by the day, but the non-violent anti-regime protests that ultimately led to the fall of the Berlin Wall would start only later in autumn 1989.
Meanwhile in the Baltics the people had already assembled in masses for the Baltic Way, stood closely packed together, were holding hands and sang national songs, in Riga sometimes even in rows of two or three – with Drauschke right in the middle of it.
"This spirit of freedom – being there together for something in a peaceful way – that was simply overwhelming," he vividly remember of the atmosphere at the time in the Latvian capital, highlighting that on the day itself one could believe and feel that people really could make a difference. "It clearly strengthened my belief that you can change things."
Joining forces in Riga
Drauschke had travelled to the Baltic States on his own and arrived a few days earlier on his own via Leningrad (now Saint Petersburg), after learning about the possibility of travelling to Riga with an official invitation.
He had read about it in a samizdat-style magazine called Arche Nova that was circulating in opposition circles in the GDR and published articles and data on the environment.
"I came across a contact address for a lecturer at Riga University who belonged to an ecological group. Through him you could get an invitation to the Soviet Union," he told LSM, adding that back then he had already been involved with opposition groups in his neighbourhood in Berlin and wanted to take a chance. "Since I had decided not to go to Hungary and to run away, I wrote to the address and received an invitation."
Although the right to holidays was enshrined in the GDR’s constitution, East Germans could not simply pack up their things and go wherever they wanted. The destinations were strictly restricted, and constraints were formidable. Until 1989, East Germans were not only barred from traveling into the West, but at the same time also not allowed to venture far east to the Soviet Union. Vacationing in the USSR was forbidden, except with official tourist packages where every step was planned and under surveillance of Soviet security services, but there were a few bureaucratic loopholes that could be and were exploited – also by Latvian activists and freedom-seekers.
"We were hosting numerous oppositional GDR youths and young people from other countries at that time with us in the environmental group," remembers Drauschke's ‘host father’ Raimonds Ernšteins, whose name was listed as the contact person in the magazine ad. The ecologist then ran the Youth Ecological Centre (Jaunatnes ekoloģiskais centrs) at the Latvian State University that he had founded in the mid-1980s. The centre was focussed on the ecological education and upbringing of students through practical work, and brought together students and lecturers from various disciplines.
Starting out as a small group of enthusiasts at the university, the Youth Ecological Centre quickly developed into a movement to protect natural and cultural monuments. "The environmental movement was our window to the democratic process. The fight for the environment and green ideas was practically also a fight for our country and the survival of our nation", says Ernšteins, who today teaches at the University of Latvia as a professor at the Department of Environmental Science.
In parallel, several other both officially-authorised and unofficial organisations and citizens' initiatives emerged on the scene. The most important of them was the Environmental Protection Club [Vides aizsardzības klubs] that played the leading role in the environmental protests and resistance against the construction of another hydroelectric power plant on the Daugava and a subway system in Riga. The ecological group gained much public support and due to the resulting conflict with the Soviet authorities quickly became political. Together with the Popular Front [Tautas Fronte], that along with its counterparts in Estonia and Lithuania organised and set up the Baltic Way, it later formed the nucleus of the National Awakening Movement [Atmoda] that eventually led to the restoration of Latvia's independence.
Gathering guests from abroad
For Ernšteins the time at the end of the 1980s was a time "full of hope“. Students from various universities and all kind of fields came to the meetings of his Youth Ecological Centre. Contacts were also made with like-minded people in the West and other socialist countries through the international environmental society “Friends of the Earth” – and some were invited to visit Latvia.
“Mostly they came to Riga by train, I picked up many of them at the train station and brought them to their accommodation,” recalls Ernšteins. Being among each other and in the closest circle, the activists from Latvia and abroad could discuss freely and uncensored. “We talked to our guests about various things, about the environment, politics and, of course, our dreams of freedom and self-determination, ” Ernšteins said, adding though that they were no revolutionaries.
In the run-up to the Baltic Way, the Youth Ecology Center intensified its activities to invite foreign visitors.
"We wanted as many people from abroad as possible to be in Latvia during the human chain and witness it. To spread our message to the world – and also for security reasons," explains Ernšteins, noting that personally he was not afraid of a possible intervention of the Soviet authorities. "What can you do against so many people peacefully demonstrating on the street? You simply can not stop such masses."
It still was a bold and risky move, and took a lot of courage to join the human chain in the face of omnipresent surveillance. There was tension in the air and some were deeply worried about how the regime would respond. Only a few weeks earlier, in June 1989, demonstrators had been simply run over by tanks by another communist regime during brutal suppression of the protest on Beijing's Tiananmen Square in China. And vivid memories were also still alive of the violent suppression of the protests on 17 June 1953 in the GDR, in 1956 in Hungary, in 1968 in Czechoslovakia and in Poland.
Something big is going to happen
The outcome of the protest was just as uncertain for the participants as it was unclear for the organizers how many people could be mobilized for the human chain. Their main goal was achieving an uninterrupted chain from Tallinn via Riga to Vilnius. In Latvia the chain led through the middle of the country and passed the city of Cēsis. There initially Frank Drauschke was staying in a countryside house on the day of the Baltic Way, after just having returned from Estonia, which he visited with a friend who was accompanying him on this trip to the Baltics.
"In Riga we stayed first with the lecturer from Riga University, where we met other oppositional young people from the GDR. Afterwards we hitchhiked towards Tallinn. We met a lot of people there – including some Lithuanians, with whom I have been friends now for over 30 years,“ says Drauschke of his journey 30 ago that he has well documented with photos and other memorabilia.
In Tallinn, the two traveling companion split up, and Drauschke moved on alone. When re-establishing then contact with his Latvian hosts and other young GDR oppositionist in Riga, they informed him about the upcoming Baltic Way. "My Latvian acquaintances said: Now something big is going to happen – there will be a human chain", he recalls, admitting that at first he could not really imagine what it was going to look like.
But this changed at once on the day when Drauschke together with others set off from Cēsis to the capital to join the Baltic Way. "We were outside of Riga and drove into the city on August 23. And then it was clear: that is where we are going and where we have to be," he recalls of his impressions along the route of the Baltic Way that was set to start at 7 pm that day. "Everywhere the cities were full of national flags, which six months earlier still had been completely banned. Suddenly the 'wind of change' blew through the streets."
A unique and emotional experience
The Baltic Way was indeed a decisive turning point in the so-called 'Singing Revolution', which led to the restablishment of the independence of the Baltic states and the collapse of the Soviet Union in the autumn of 1991. Its success gave the wider freedom movement a big boost.
"The Baltic Way was a unique event and for me personally, a very emotional experience. It gave us enormous confidence. I think that those who took part in it will remember it for the rest of their lives," highlights Ernšteins in retrospect.
His former guest from the GDR definitely feels the same way. Drauschke studied history after the fall of the Berlin Wall and today heads the historical research institute Facts & Files that ten years ago carried out a project titled ‘Europeana 1989’ to create a crowd-sourced digital archive of European history with experiences, stories and memorabilia from the time of the fall of the Iron Curtain.
A public collection day for the project took him in August 2013 back to Riga, where he also shared his own moving experiences in a presentation at the Latvian National Library. "The summer and autumn of 1989 with the Baltic Way and the fall of the Berlin Wall were unforgettable“, Drauschke told the audience. “It was the most important time in my life."
