HIRVE PARK EYE WITNESS ACCOUNTS The rally at Hirve Park was a bold statement as Estonians publicly contested the validity of the Soviet occupation itself. Text of the speeches in full can be found in the document “The Rally at Hirve Park – All Speeches”. Below are contemporary reactions of four Estonians who were in attendance. August 23 in Tallinn – A Day of Hope and Mourning This Sunday had been awaited all week in an atmosphere of growing anticipation… The news reached Tallinn about a special session held by the Party Central Committee in Moscow last weekend on the planned demonstrations in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. The KGB chiefs of the Soviet Baltic states had attended. Toward the end of the week, a special group of security men arrived in Tallinn from Moscow. On Saturday, August 22, the all-Union television stations and press were clearly nervous about the plans to observe the anniversary of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, describing the upcoming events as "foreign intervention into the internal affairs of the U.S.S.R." and "a fascist scheme." On the other hand, hopes for the success of the endeavor were bolstered by the letter from U.S. Senators to M. Gorbachev and the Party leaders of the Baltic provinces, as well as by the demonstrations of solidarity planned by Baltic refugee groups. The news that a hunger strike would begin at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington at the exact same hour that demonstrators assembled in the Baltic capitals gave us a special warm and supportive feeling. The knowledge that we are not alone boosted our morale. The question of solidarity between the Baltic peoples themselves seemed especially important. This time, the initial momentum had come from our southern neighbors, and it was immediately clear that Tallinn could not fall behind the others, regardless of risk. We must not betray the unified endeavor of the Baltic peoples. We could never forgive ourselves! It seemed that a historic moment was about to arrive - - the opportunity for our people to express, for the first time in years, our true feelings about events which have shaped our fate for nearly half a century. And so, it's Sunday, August 23, a few minutes before noon. Against all expectations, no great security forces are to be seen downtown. Even access to Town Hall Square is not blocked. This is a good sign. Anxiously, we approach the site of events by way of Harju Street, carrying a humble wish: for a hundred people to show up! In our situation, we'd consider that an achievement. The first surprise: the square is nearly filled with people. Applause echoes. The leader of the endeavor, Tiit Madisson, head of the Estonian Group for the Disclosure of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, announces that city authorities have proposed that we move up to Harju Hill, since the event is allegedly disrupting traffic in front of Town Hall (by the way, traffic is always prohibited in front of Town Hall). The crowd starts to move. Harju Street fills with the throng, which turns right upon reaching Victory Square and rises up the steps on the slope of Harju Hill. Those sitting by the windows of the cafe "Moskva" (formerly "Kultase") are treated to an impressive view: the flow of people lasts for more than ten minutes, moving purposefully upward toward the rise - - toward the www.singingrevolution.com 1 rediscovery of self-worth, toward freedom from fear. Spirits rise, tension lessens. People are friendly. Everyone feels at ease with lots of company. The second surprise: On the way up to Harju Hill, banners are unrolled and placards are held high. This is unprecedented! To walk with a crowd of people expressing their own desires and not carrying defunct slogans passed out by the authorities! Just recently, any placard made on personal initiative would be torn from the bearer's hands and trampled by police. The bearer himself would be placed in a detention establishment for some period of time. A large beautiful banner - - "Eesti-Latvija-Lietuva" - - catches the eye. The banners are more numerous and well-made than we would have expected. Some condemn the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact; many posters demand the release of Mart Niklus and Enn Tarto. Some people wear an emblem on their breast: "1939," decorated with a five-pointed star and swastika. We cross the street leading to Toompea. Access to Toompea castle is blocked by official cars. Militia and plainclothes KGB-men line the street. The crowd gathers around the statue of Linda along several twisting roads. The crowd keeps growing. The third surprise: We see the organizers of the demonstration, sporting attractive blue-and-white emblems, by the statue. Most of them are former political prisoners whose names we know mainly from foreign radio broadcasts, but whose faces are unfamiliar. Soviet propaganda has labeled them criminals and dangerous anti-state elements who must remain segregated even during their temporary periods of freedom. A "politically aware and morally steadfast Soviet citizen" avoids contact with such people, since such contact can blacken "a person's good name," endanger one's chances of traveling abroad, and diminish one's outlook for advancement on the job. It is pleasant to realize that these dissidents are obviously congenial and intelligent people. Instead of the alienation and mistrust instilled into us by the filthy propaganda of the authorities, we suddenly feel a warm sympathy with them. What have these people had to endure and suffer, simply because they, unlike many of us, stood up proudly and persevered in their defense of the human right to truth and self- worth? Their unrelenting courage and idealism inspire deep respect. From the outset, Tiit Madisson arouses particular sympathy. He has an expressive voice, a clear manner of speaking. He is someone you listen to gladly, someone whose message has immediate impact - - a "man of the people" in the best sense of the word, with a sense of humor as well. The same goes for Heiki Ahonen. The start of the ceremony at Linda monument is delayed as some go looking for him. A little excitement builds: perhaps he was nabbed on the steps? But everyone arrives safely. Some lively picture-taking begins around the Linda monument. Two or three official photographers and a cameraman work diligently, recording the participants from all angles. A number of amateurs do the same. This is a new and agreeable phenomenon, since usually, all non-official events taking place without the approval of the authorities are unrecorded, kept quiet. One of the primary reactions of security officers in officially unsanctioned situations has always been the prohibition of photography; the repression of amateur photographers. This time they are allowed to photograph as much as they please. And there is plenty that deserves to be recorded: the small children sitting on the base of the Linda monument, with "1939" signs around their necks make an impressive and moving picture. The militia and KGB-men are quite visible, but they remain at the edge of the crowd and maintain a calm demeanor. No one provokes anyone else. But it is not time to start yet. The crowd is ready and eager, greeting every announcement by the organizers with enthusiastic applause. www.singingrevolution.com 2 Tiit Madisson announces with a loud voice (they weren't able to get loudspeakers), that since the crowd is much larger than anticipated, they should lay their wreaths and flowers around the Linda monument and descend the steps into Hirve Park. Some people feel that the organizers should have called for a moment of silence or made a brief speech to commemorate those who perished as a result of the Pact. But we must understand the tension under which the organizers are operating, having to direct the crowd to a third site in half an hour. Many details can be overlooked in situations like this. A wreath lies at the feet of Linda, symbol of the mourning mother of Estonia. Its ribbons say: "Estonians, do not forget August 23, 1939!" Most of the flowers are cornflowers and clematis. Candles are lit. The crowd descends into Hirve Park; some stay up on the hill to watch. The speakers choose an advantageous position on the stair landings. And now, from a better vantage point we finally realize that the crowd is enormous. Instead of the couple of hundred people first expected, two or three thousand have gathered. This kind of estimate was given by many experienced observers. [According to observers, more than 5,000 people left Town Hall Square in the direction of Harju Street. Apparently, some of them were incidental curious onlookers.] Both the younger as well as the older generations are represented. As a matter of fact, the only common denominator among the participants is that they are all Estonians. There seem to be only a few well-known figures, some representatives of the fine arts and sciences. I recall a young man of about 15, with a placard saying "I want to join my father in Sweden." Many placards demand the release of Mart Niklus and Enn Tarto. From conversations in the days after the rally, I realized that many people had not heard about the demonstration early enough and regretted missing it. Tiit Madisson opens the rally with a lengthy speech on the history and repercussions of the Molotov- Ribbentrop Pact. The mention of our Constitutional right to self-determination and secession draws one of the greater roars of applause from the crowd. The exact figures on those arrested, exiled or killed during the early years of Soviet rule elicit surprise.