Opinion Festival

World Peace Just Happened

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‘What Can We Do For World Peace?’ is possibly the biggest question on the planet, and at the Opinion Festival on Saturday morning, an intrepid group of academics, educators and activists attempted to answer it.

Although it is fair to say that, over the course of 90 minutes, it was not possible to reach a consensus on how to achieve world peace, or even if it is possible, the most interesting part of the discussion was, as is often the case in such theoretical talks, the individual stories of the speakers.

Piet Boerefijn is the Director of the Estonian Food Bank, which has set up food relief in towns and cities all over Estonia to help the people who cannot afford to feed their families. However, at first, this was not a personal mission of his – the Dutchman came to Estonia shortly after the restoration of independence for a totally different reason.

“When I first came, it wasn’t with the idea of helping Estonia. Actually, I read ‘The Czar’s Madman’ by Jaan Kross and wanted to see the house from that book, a manor house close to Põltsamaa. The manor had a big wall around it, and a small fence. I looked through the fence, and it came out that the house had been turned into a home for mentally-disturbed people. It was like a zoo, it was awful inside, it was 1992 or 1993.”

“I thought it would be revolutionary if only someone could bring some new beds, or install some extra toilets. We took some mattresses from hospitals in the Netherlands for free.” Estonia was a far different country to the one that foreigners in 2016 experience, Boerefijn explained. “At that time Estonia was extremely poor. It was still the Soviet Army there. Often they would get their salary in roubles, not the Estonian kroon, and that meant they couldn’t buy anything. So what did they do? They sold their weapons, so you could buy your weapons from the Russian Army in Estonia.”The recollections of Ekke Nõmm, Director of the Estonian School of Diplomacy, were, as you might expect, more moderated and mild. Nõmm, a fuzzy-haired man who seems permanently calm, talked about his experiences running a private university that receives international funding to train global diplomats.

Nõmm believes that accord can be found between people of most nationalities if they can learn to relate to each other on a personal level. “After a year [studying together], they’re friends, they understand each other better.” There are still tensions, mostly due to pressure from the students’ parent countries. “There was one group, with whom we went for a discussion in Kadriorg with the President. We had a photo taken with the him, and I arranged it that on one side were two Armenian women, on the other two Azeri men.”

“We had the photos taken, it all went well, we went back to school, and then after an hour, the Azeris called me and said, ‘please don’t use this photo in a professional capacity,’ because it might mean trouble for them. They were worried about going back to Baku, and their superiors perhaps saying, ‘you’re becoming too friendsly with the Armenians.’ So this shows the divisions that are there, but by bringing these people together I think we can somehow do something for world peace.”

In attempting to explain the still-existent divisions between first-language Estonian- and Russian-speakers in Estonia, Nõmm had a theory. “A lot of this had to do with the fact that the Russians in Estonia had to do a tremendous mental switch, from being masters of the universe, rulers of the empire, and from there, they had to change to a minority in a small country. I agree that Estonians are typically quiet and modest, and Russians are more outgoing. I suppose a Russian by nature would expect a friend to be outgoing, but Estonians aren’t like that in their nature. So when Estonians say, ‘ok, learn the language, do your job, and we’ll all be happy,’ because embracing and hugging is not in their nature, Russians might interpret it as unwelcoming. Also, the fact that the Russians live in their own media-sphere: I would consider that to be the greatest problem.”

Liga Rudzite is a Marie Curie Fellow at the Tallinn School of Economics and Business Administration, Tallinn University of Technology, and media falls into her research. She said it is not only Russian media that is biased. “I think we are biased – even our free media. We speak about Latvia always on Latvian terms, and if I were a Russian of course I wouldn’t use Latvian media because I would use what spoke more personally to me.”

Discussions continued, with world peace still some way off at the time of writing.

Here’s How to Give Everyone a Say in Estonia

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The official Opinion Festival brochure says that when we think of the Netherlands we think of tulips and windmills, but for others, the Low Country means philosophical footballers, excellent flood defences and a – cough – liberal attitude towards what someone may or may not be smoking. But there is a tradition of this small nation, which was once a merchant shipping hub for the world, exporting new solutions to civic and political problems, and it was one way of doing so, the polder model, which was discussed on Friday afternoon in the talk “How to Make Consensus-Based Decisions: Dutch Polder Brunch”.

According to Wikipedia, “the polder model is consensus decision-making, based on the acclaimed Dutch version of consensus-based economic and social policy making in the 1980s and 1990s.” Wim Kok, who was Dutch Prime Minister during the economic boom-time of 1994 to 2002, supported the polder model, or his version of it, as a way of ensuring that all voices be heard in a process of decision-making.

Things have changed, some would say for the worse, since Kok’s time at the head of his government. The far right is building its share of the vote in the Netherlands, Estonia and many other parts of Europe, and the idea that consensus can be found on any issue just by talking it over now seems less of a certainty than it once was.

Peter Kentie, a Dutchman from Rotterdam living at the moment in Tallinn, talked about the rebranding of Estonia, with Visit Estonia now using slogans like “ESTonishing”, alongside a new logo. “It’s not about the logo, it’s about passions. You can’t have it that someone from the ministry comes to someone and gives someone the task to do the design, the ministry should team up with the stakeholders in Estonia, and together create the brief and together be responsible for the result.”

Sometimes, Kentie argued, it matters how people collaborate, not just who collaborates. “If the person giving the brief is sitting next to you, rather than just being the one who gives the money, that makes the difference. It’s better to have that discussion in the room, than in a newspaper.”

When asked by moderator Annika Uudelepp how he would attract Asian, or international, talent in greater numbers to Estonia, Kentie said that perhaps the problem should be viewed differently. “I think maybe, as a first priority, talent should not be coming, maybe the priority should be exporting to the rest of the world.”

“There are qualities here that aren’t yet fully-known to other countries. You really have to communicate those qualities to the rest of the world. If you do that, then maybe people [in other countries] will think ‘I can contribute something there in the future.’ The ‘Skype Mafia’ shows that you have all these young people who use the digital world in a disruptive way, and that’s the important thing, to disrupt. If others go left, you should go right, and if you get that mentality right, people will come to you. You have to first tell the world you’re really open to that, and communicate to the rest of the world that you’re there.”

One example of increased civic activism in Estonia has been evident over the proposed development of Kalarand in Tallinn. Local groups ensured that they had a say in the planning of a new development on the promenade, and ensured the current beach would remain in place, but only after the developers, with the apparent backing of local government for their building plans, tried to sue a local activist to bring in a gagging order.

“In the Netherlands,” said panellist and Dutch Ambassador to Estonia Jos Schellaars, “we also have property developers who are very keen on acquiring areas on which they can build. But then there is a process of permission. Even after the permission is given, I think in the Netherlands protesters have a louder voice. The discussion process, I think, is much longer. Voices are louder and better-heard.”

Is Debate A Luxury That We Can’t Afford?

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The Opinion Festival has, as one of its aims, to create an atmosphere that is good for open discussion, but how much do we actually want, or need this? Is this kind of debate a peacetime luxury, in a time when it often feels like war, or at least some bigger conflict, is pending?

During the aftermath of the recent referendum that saw Britain vote to leave the European Union, there was a lot of discussion about the different choices faced by the UK and the rest of Europe in the future. The vote, which took most of the political elite by surprise and was greeted with a sense of joy by some and impending doom by others, threw individuals and political parties into a period of extended soul-searching, from which they have not yet emerged.

What was particularly interesting was what it meant for the future of debate. We take it for granted today that we will be given time and space to discuss openly solutions to problems. However there is a growing feeling that the way in which we conduct debate is changing. The Donald Trump campaign in the United States, the refugee crisis in Europe, and discussions on how many displaced people Estonia will take, have all been conducted in an increasingly bellicose manner. The manner of debate seems to be similar to that shown in this video (apologies for linking to an RT post, but it shows what I mean).

This all begs the question, although many of us like to philosophise about the best way of organising ourselves, does this mean that modern culture and government can do so? We have seen, with the acceptance of political “spin” as a necessary tool for most governments, distrust in elites rise. This appears to be at least part of the reason for the rise of Trump, and for Brexit. It’s created a situation where it doesn’t take many points in a conversation on something like Twitter, for example, for one side or both sides to start exhibiting anger.

Essentially, a Twitter conversation in 2016 goes like this:

  • Person One: I’m being deliberately provocative, but I’m obviously right, because the person in [this link] agrees with me.
  • Person Two: Really? I don’t agree with all of what you just said. Here is another [link] that I feel proves my argument is right.
  • Person One: What gives you the right to argue against my point? Check your privilege. You must be a misogynist, or a conservative, or most likely both.
  • Person Two: I have every right to exist in this world, but you are the whole reason why the global system is going down the toilet. And you’re ugly.
At some point, perhaps during the Brexit referendum, or the refugee crisis, or Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, or the discussion over the need for a Ghostbusters reboot, it seems we forgot how to find consensus. A talking head recently floated the idea that David Bowie held the secret of the universe, and that this explained why many things had seemingly gone downhill since his death. And yet surely can’t have only been the presence in the world of David Bowie that was holding opinion culture together – it must be within us to rediscover the art of compromise.

The Opinion Festival can at times seem endearingly old-school, like a non-threatening meeting of minds that could not happen outside the comforting town boundaries of Paide. Can we learn a better, more civilised, way of arguing while we’re here? Is it possible, in a time when opinions are often weaponised and used as propaganda, for neutrality to exist, or at least for people to come to a discussion and then make up their minds, rather than beforehand? Is the Opinion Festival serving a useful purpose by opening up so many different views, and bringing together many people who would, in an increasingly-polarised atmosphere, often choose not to meet? Or is debate a peacetime luxury, which we cannot countenance now we need to “lock and load,” as the man says in the linked video rant?

It won’t surprise you that, on the festival blog, this post argues that, no, debate is not a luxury. But we all need to get better at doing it, and soon. Otherwise we run the risk of becoming the people we always hated. Whatever we believe, let’s share the love, because that’s the true spirit of the Opinion Festival, and that’s what can get us through this absolute dog’s dinner of a year.

Opinion Festival in Estonia Builds Nordic Musical Bridge

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The soundwaves of the Opinion Festival create a musical bridge between Aruküla, Gothenburg and Tartu

This year the culture programme of the word-rock festival held in Paide in August wanders along psychedelic and jazzy paths instead of rock music. Filling the Festival Club with sounds is the responsibility of Tartu’s multicultural Genialistide Klubi in cooperation with Möku. Their joint programme attracts audiences with both superb DJs and young rappers.

If you want to escape the discussions for a bit, you can pop into the festival club where you can enjoy the sounds of the hissing old vinyl from the Melodija label, pulsating beats from the Balkans, the best estrada pieces of the Eastern block and the soft breeze of yacht rock.

The keyword of Friday night’s official programme is “Youth”. At the festival club, you can enjoy the performance of 15-year-old rapper EIXD from Aruküla, whose lyrics tackle social issues and may even bring additional thoughts to some of the topics debated at the discussions. Then, Liis Ring aka Cirkl who is studying music and sound production in Gothenburg takes stage with her dreamy indie-pop, a hovering cross between jazz and classical music. To finish off the first day you can listen to playful improvisations by Edmund Hõbe, a multi-instrumentalist from Tartu.

Saturday is all about psychedelic sounds and vinyl. Once the last discussions have ended, Berk Vaher, a multi-talent with an odd taste in music, and Ahto Külvet, a vinyl enthusiast who gets excited by the products of weird-looking record labels, invite you to the first ever Psycho Disco in Paide. The audience will be welcomed by the colourful world of analogue music with repertoire expanding from Kazakhstan to Latvia and from Brazil to Poland. The motto of Psycho Disco is simple − we are all equal before the Moog keyboard!

 

Translated to English by Piret Raudsepp.

Opinion Festival 2016: Why Am I Volunteering at the Opinion Festival? Because it’s Fun!

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In the spring of 2015, I had the honour of participating in the course held by Liis Kängsepp, the then-Communication Manager of the Opinion Festival, at Tallinn University. As an overly-excited first year journalism student I kept my eyes and ears open for possible internship jobs for the coming summer. Then, all of a sudden, Liis mentioned that the Opinion Festival was looking for communications volunteers. By the time I got from Tallinn University to Telliskivi Street by tram, I had made my decision. When I got off the tram, I was sure that I could become a volunteer at the Opinion Festival. To be fair, I didn’t know too much about the Opinion Festival back then − sure, I was aware of the festival’s presence in the media, but I hadn’t even been to Paide that much before, let alone participated in the festival. So it was time to open my mailbox and write an email to Liis.

And so, one fine day I found myself in the Opinion Festival’s Communications team, informing readers about all kinds of exciting discussion topics, people and events that together form the Opinion Festival. It was a fun time. I could make my contribution to one of the coolest events in Estonia by writing up stories and doing interviews over the whole summer. Whether at 6 am on the coach to Tartu or fending off flies in the afternoon sun on Saaremaa, I could help with putting together the big picture of the festival by writing pieces on the festival blog.

And then came August and the festival. I remember sitting in the Opinion Festival’s Press Centre finalising another one of my pre-festival articles and through the open window, I could hear people adjusting the mics all over the place and the tech guys making a racket on the balconies while installing the internet. Excitement and thrill filled the air − just like prior to a birthday party when the table is already set but the guests haven’t arrived yet. We weren’t able to enjoy that peace and quiet for too long though, because the guests began to arrive. Thousands of them. Eight, nine, ten thousand people gathered in Paide to take part in the festival’s discussions.

Yes, these two festival days were rather mental and now when I think about them, I remember the ceaseless chatter, sitting on the grass with my legs crossed and the keyboard, which I was devotedly tapping for 12 hours on a trot. Down the stairs to the discussions and up the stairs to write. Down the stairs to the discussions and… Until all of a sudden it was the evening of the second day and I found myself sitting on the ground and braiding grass rings; the dark and soft August night was flowing past me with its overheard conversations, gales of laughter and good ideas. I was thinking to myself, “Wow! So cool!” And that feeling has stayed with me ever since. And that’s exactly why three months later I sent another email saying that I wanted to help out and work on the Opinion Festival in 2016 as well. This year the festival will be even bigger, even more diverse and even more fun. That’s why the team and I are already in full swing to make the festival happen. There are many great, fun and exciting things on the way. So stay tuned and see you all in Paide!

Written by Jakob Rosin.
Translated to English by Piret Raudsepp.