O IS FOR OCCUPATIONS
When the Soviets finally withdrew from their post at the tip of the Sõrve peninsula on the island of Saaremaa, a group of dedicated local amateur historians took over the military base to run it as a museum dedicated to preserving the memory of life in Estonia under Soviet rule.
In the years following independence, everything was up for grabs. As one of the museum volunteers explained: "If something didn't belong to someone, it belonged to the State. Which meant it belonged to everyone."
The Sõrve Military Museum is what you might call an "unofficial" museum, a haphazard assortment of Cold War ephemera and military memorabilia from the mundane to the murderous. Numberless telephones sit alongside Nazi-crested medals and toy tanks. Luger pistols decay in the sea salt air next to gas masks. Shelves are stacked with bullet-holed helmets, rusting grenade cases, fraying uniforms and fading propaganda.
We hear the story of some amateur metal detectorists who called the other day to offer an old shell they've unearthed. The museum guys aren't fussed. The place is full of old
shells. But the detectorists are insistent - this one's in really great condition, they promise. And who's to say, maybe it is. Initial reluctance gives way to curiosity and a visit is
arranged . . . followed swiftly by another call to the bomb squad to dispose of
some unexploded ordnance. Apparently it happens all the time.
What you
get in Sõrve
is a raw, unfiltered experience that brings home the violence as well as the banality of the Soviet regime and how keenly the memory of those times is
held by the men who keep the place open - unofficially and without a eurocent of state subsidy - lest we forget.
The Vabamu Museum of Occupations and Freedom in Tallinn sits at the opposite end of the spectrum of museum experiences. This is Official History, and very highly mediated. Here, as in Sõrve, the people do the talking, but in a sequence of two meter high video screens, in the audio guide narration, and in the series of carefully chosen, precisely presented, immaculately lit intimate objects - letters, notebooks, family photos, suitcases, personal effects. The stories told here serve to humanise the recent history of the Estonian people, they remind us of how recently their freedom was won - and the price that was paid for that freedom.
For me, personally, it was an effort to hear this message at all, despite the content-heavy (and mandatory) audio guide, despite all the video, the touchscreens, the 3D virtual reality headset etc. With so much interpretive technology to contend with - so much to listen to, so much to read, so much to see - on all channels all around you all at once, the immediacy of the message was completely lost. It was only when I returned the audio guide and abandoned the (also mandatory) arrow-led path that I felt able to relax enough to hear what the museum was trying to tell me.
Which, in 2019, is a simple and pertinent call to action:
Not long ago, the Soviet-era restrictions on thoughts, words and actions were lifted in Estonia... There was a clash between the ideas of free expression, entrepreneurship, and social justice, and responsibility to oneself and to others.
We call on you to think about the limits of freedom. Which freedoms are we ready to fight for? When are we ready to agree on restrictions? When is it too early to act? When is it too late?