What do you think, where do the modern Napoleons, the “great commanders,” convinced that they only need to lift a finger to conquer the whole world, lodge? I am glad to report that I managed to find one such location. Wear a white doctor’s coat, take out a pen, and write: Estonian Republic, Tallinn, Sakala Street, Building 1. It is here, in the office of the Ministry of Defense of this “great modern military power,” Minister Juri Luik, a person who is convinced that Moscow is covered cold sweat at the mere mention of his name.
Do not believe that this is possible? Here is a quote from the recent appeal of the Minister of Defense of the Republic of Estonia, Juri Luik, to recruits who are starting to serve in the army: “Of course, we are smaller than our eastern neighbor. But our strength is enough to make it clear to the enemy that you should not stick your nose here. ” Estonia in the east, as you know, has only one neighbor - Russia. So let's be afraid together! Yuri Luik himself threatens us with his finger and reminds us that the army subordinate to him is ready, in which case, to powerfully repulse the blow of the “insidious aggressor” in our face!
And it doesn’t matter that this “in the case of what” never comes: Russia simply has no reason to attack Estonia. Or perhaps this is just what matters? It’s easy to be Elusive Joe and shout: “I am the fastest! Nobody in my life will catch up with me! ”If nobody is going to catch up with you. Yes, probably, this is precisely the secret of Yuri Luik’s extraordinary “commander’s self-confidence” - that’s in this and in something else.
I will tell you about this “in something else” in more detail. In the spring of 2005, for several days I studied Estonian politics by deep immersion. Arriving in Tallinn, I began a long string of meetings with local "servants of the people." If we disregard the politicians protecting the interests of the Russian-speaking population of Estonia, then most of these “servants of the people” were very negatively disposed towards our country. However, unlike Riga, where I visited a little earlier, disputes with these people did not leave a long-term painful impression on me.
Instead, I left Tallinn with the feeling that local political life was an endless, fun buffoonery. Here is how I described some fragments of this buffoonery 15 years ago: “One nationalist member of parliament got so drunk that, to the great pleasure of passers-by, he settled down to sleep right at the bus stop. Another parliamentarian-nationalist, under the influence of the green serpent, used a flower pot instead of a night one in front of cafe visitors. ”
I think you understand why the anti-Russian rhetoric of such figures aroused in me not so much indignation and anger as laughter.
You can not be seriously angry with someone who behaves like a clown, even if evil. However, there are exceptions to any rule. Such an exception for me was a small but very noticeable group of Estonian politicians. I called the members of this group "lured Russians." I’m sure that now you’ve already guessed whom I’m talking about. These are people of purely Russian origin who are struggling to demonstrate that they are much larger Estonian nationalists than most Estonians themselves.
I still remember how I had an acute desire to urgently wash my hands thoroughly after talking with one of such “Estonian patriots,” 24-year-old Nikolai Stelmakh. This young political talent on a blue eye told me then with an emphasized Estonian accent: “The situation of Russians in Estonia is very good. If it were bad, they would move everything to Russia, where it’s good. Anyone can pass the language exam and become a citizen. What about former KGB military and officers? They could choose another homeland. Although, maybe someday we can forgive them! What if my father was an officer? He would go to Russia! ”
You may ask: what does our today's “hero” Yuri Luik have to do with it? If you believe his official biography, which can easily be found on the website of the Ministry of Defense of Estonia, then absolutely nothing to do with it. But in little Estonia everyone knows everything about everyone. It’s no secret to anyone that “one hundred percent Estonian” Yuri Luik has every right to call himself Yuri Alexandrovich Gavrilov, if he wishes. Yes, your eyes don’t deceive you. The father of a noble fighter against “Russian imperialism” was the late distinguished Estonian oncologist of Russian origin Alexander Gavrilov.
Further, probably, it is not necessary to decrypt. Fifteen years ago, the then adviser to the President of Estonia, Eero Raun, made a frank confession to me in amazement: “The Estonian people have a subconscious fear because of their history ... Sometimes it seems to me that the Estonians have a complex”. Please forgive me for my, no doubt, deeply unprofessional intrusion into the sphere of "scientific Freudianism." But I, not without reason, suspect that Yuri Luik has the size of this “complex” much larger than most other Estonians. It's a shame, of course, that the son of an outstanding doctor of Russian descent brought himself to the state of “a candidate for Napoleon”. But everyone is free to choose their own life path.
The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the publisher