A day in Riga

Winter starts fairly reliably in northern Europe around this time, and yet each year it contrives to take me by surprise. Arriving in Riga yesterday without a coat or hat I walked straight into what passed locally for a brisk November morning, a mere degree or two below zero. All the more reason to duck into a cafe, where I spent most of the day huddled with Andris Aukmanis, head of the Soros Foundation in Latvia, talking about Sir Isaiah Berlin.

Berlin was born just round the corner, almost a hundred years ago, and lived there until he was six. He never paid his native city much heed in later life, he never visited after the Soviet collapse, and I know of only one comment, faintly dismissive, about his ties to Riga in his writings and recorded conversations. But even if Berlin was not inclined to give Riga much of the credit for forming his amazing intellect and interests, that seems no reason for Riga not to claim some of the credit posthumously, and I am debating with Andris how best this might be done. We have some plans now—and if any reader with affection for Berlin, or for Riga, would like to add to them, please do get in touch.

Walking through Riga with Andris—who is, admittedly, a gregarious figure, despite his claims to misanthropy—I am amazed and delighted to be reminded how intimate a city this is, for all its million people. We bump into a former foreign minister on the street corner; a friend I have not seen for a year taps my shoulder as I am paying for lunch; in the afternoon we drop in on the main Latvian daily newspaper, Diena, where the editor finds a moment for us even as the paper is going to press, and as she prepares for a party marking the paper's 17th birthday.

From the distance of New York I have been worrying about Latvia and its place in the world, as relations between Russia and the West have been deteriorating. Close up things feel a touch more reassuring, if only because the Latvians themselves seem less worried than I am (beneath their permanent air of pessimism). I talk to Gary Peach, a journalist friend, about Russia and the forthcoming presidential election: as far as we can see, there is nothing to stop Putin running a cipher for the presidency who would resign the next day, clearing the way for Putin's return while observing the letter of the constitution. It would take a fair bit of chutzpah, but Putin has never been short of that, and it might be safer for his interests than lending the Kremlin for a longer period to somebody substantial who might just get the taste for it.

First Proof  Latvia  

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