UNIVERSITY OF VAASA 

Faculty of Philosophy 

English Studies 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Johanna Ulrika Söderholm 

 

Picture This Country 

Contemporary Narratives of Estonia 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Master’s Thesis  

 

Vaasa 2014 



 

 

1 

TABLE OF CONTENTS 

ABSTRACT          3 

1 INTRODUCTION         5 

1.1 Estonia: a Narrated Nation       6 

1.2 Material         9 

1.2.1 The Institutional Narratives      10 

1.2.2 The Outsider Narratives      13 

1.3 Structure of the Thesis         14 

 

2 A NARRATED NATION       16 

2.1 Narrating the Nation      16 

 2.1.1 What is a Nation?        17 

 2.1.2 Why Stories Matter      19 

 2.1.3 How to Narrate a Nation     20 

 2.1.4 Is Narrating the Nation a Collective Project?   22 

 2.1.5 Why Nations Forget      23 

2.2 Outsiders on the Nation      24 

 2.2.1 Travel Writing      24 

 2.2.2 Estonia in Travel Writing     27 

 2.2.3 What Are They Saying about Us?    28 

 

3 THE MOST MODERN MEDIEVAL COUNTRY    32 

3.1 Narrative of Freedom: Soviet No More    32 

3.2 Narrative of Modernity: Lynx and Skype    37 

3.3 Narrative of Myths: Fairy Tale Tallinn    40 

3.4 Summary: Narrating the Nation in a Post-Modern World  43 

 

4 A STRANGE NORTHERN COUNTRY     45 

4.1 Narrative of Adventure: In the Land of the Meat-Jelly Eaters  45 

4.2 Narrative of Oddity: A Ramble through the Periphery  51 



 

 

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4.3 Narrative of the Other Tallinn: Off the Beaten Track  55 

4.4 Summary: Post-Soviet Light?     59 

 

5 CONCLUSION       63 

 

WORKS CITED        66 

  



 

 

3 

 

UNIVERSITY OF VAASA 

Faculty of Philosophy 

Discipline:  English Studies 

Author:   Johanna Ulrika Söderholm 

Master’s Thesis:  Picture This Country 

   Contemporary Narratives of Estonia 

Degree:   Master of Arts 

Date:   2014 

Supervisor:  Tiina Mäntymäki 

ABSTRACT 

I min pro gradu-avhandling presenterar och diskuterar jag exempel på samtida narrativa 

konstruktioner av nationen Estland. Mitt primära material består av både institutionella 

och utomstående narrativa texter som producerats under perioden 2006 – 2013. De 

institutionella, eller officiella, narrativa texterna utgörs av presidenten Toomas Hendrik 

Ilves tal till nationen, en turistbroschyr publicerad av Estlands turistbyrå samt Tallinns 

officiella ansökan om status som Europas kulturhuvudstad. De ”utomstående” eller 

inofficiella narrativa texterna utgörs av tre böcker inom genren reselitteratur som 

skrivits om Estland av utlänningar. 

 

Narrativa beskrivningar av nationen är konstruktioner av en faktiskt eller upplevd 

verklighet. Jag använder mig av Benedict Andersons teori om nationen som en 

föreställd gemenskap. Vidare använder jag mig av Stuart Halls fem kännetecken på hur 

nationen konstrueras genom narrativ. 

 

Det institutionella och officiella materialet beskriver och analyserar jag genom att titta 

på hur de konstruerar nationen Estland genom narrativ om frihet, modernitet och myter. 

De ”utomstående” och inofficiella texterna fokuserar på narrativa beskrivningar av 

Estland genom det äventyrliga, det underliga och det annorlunda. 

 

Både de institutionella och de ”utomstående” narrativen använder sig medvetet, eller 

omedvetet, av idén om nationen som en föreställd gemenskap. De institutionella 

narrativen presenterar Estland som en västerländsk, modern och progressiv nation som 

har lämnat den sovjetiska perioden bakom sig. De ”utomstående” narrativen söker och 

framhåller spåren och kvarlämningar av den sovjetiska era. 

 

Även om de två narrativa beskrivningarna av Estland kan tyckas motsatta så utesluter de 

inte varandra. Ingen nation har ett enda entydigt narrativ och varje beskrivning av 

Estland kommer att innehålla element från både de officiella och de inofficiella, de 

institutionella och de ”utomstående” narrativen . 

 

KEYWORDS: Estonia, post-soviet, narratives, narrating the nation, institutional 

narrative, outsider narrative  



 

 

4 

 



 

 

5 

1 INTRODUCTION 

 

Nations might exist in many forms but they certainly, perhaps even primarily, 

exist as narrative constructs. (Kantsteiner 2008: 153) 

 

 

Imagine if you will that you are visiting Estonia for the first time. You know hardly 

anything about this country, or its capital, the city of Tallinn. Like most first-time 

visitors, you will probably go online to find out more about your destination, or even 

buy yourself a ‘classic’ travel book or guide book. You will come across pictures of 

Tallinn’s scenic Old Town; you will find articles about Estonia and its membership in 

the EU; you will get advertisements for beautiful young women who would like to 

accompany you during your visit; and an invitation for you to book one of the capital’s 

posh hotels is guaranteed to pop up. You can read about this small nation that sang itself 

to independence from the Soviet Union. There will be articles that describe the ‘e-tiger’ 

that Estonia proudly calls itself, not least because it is the birthplace of Skype. This is 

the country where everyone is online! But, you can also read articles where this “off the 

radar” country is described as an unfortunate place populated by seemingly sour-faced 

and grey Soviet denizens. The winters are dark and seem endless. It is a place where the 

food is peculiar and the language unintelligible. There will be descriptions of Soviet era 

concrete suburbs and run-down areas. Behind the modern, glossy and touristic façade 

there seems to be another story lurking.  

 

What will you, the visitor, make of these disparate images, descriptions and stories of 

Estonia? Which one of these Estonias will you see and experience during your visit? Is 

it the buzzing and digitalized or is it the post-Soviet and peripheral? What could be the 

purpose of these narratives and does it matter that they are different? In this thesis, I will 

present and discuss examples of contemporary narratives that I have found when 

reading about, visiting, and living in Estonia. By analyzing narratives of freedom, 

modernity, and myth, on one hand and the narratives of adventure, oddity, and 

otherness, on the other, I aim to demonstrate how contemporary narratives of Estonia 

produce – and reproduce – the nation both from the inside and the outside. 

 



 

 

6 

In his aforementioned research and now classic book Imagined Communities: 

Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism (1991[1983]) Benedict Anderson 

defines the nation as an imagined political community (1991: 6). It is imagined because 

no member of a nation can know or meet all of his fellow-members, but nevertheless 

imagines that he shares certain values, beliefs or characteristics with the others. Instead 

of focusing on politics or ideology, Anderson focuses on the cultural aspects of 

belonging to a certain nation, and studies how national identities emerge and sustain 

themselves (Anderson 1991: 6).  

 

In a similar vein, Homi K. Bhabha (1990) discusses the narrative of the nation in the 

introduction to Nation and Narration:  

 

Nations, like narratives, lose their origins in the myths of time and only fully 

realize their horizon in the mind’s eye. Such an image of the nation – or 

narration – might seem impossibly romantic and excessively metaphorical, but 

it is from those traditions of political thought and literary language that the 

nation emerges as a powerful historical idea in the west. An idea whose 

cultural compulsion lies in the impossible unity of the nation as a symbolic 

force. (Bhabha 1990: 1, emphasis added)  

 

Both the fact that the nation is a cultural imagination, and that it is a product of Western 

tradition and historical ideas will be further discussed in this thesis. Naturally, every 

Estonian has her or his own construction and description of Estonia. The repertoire and 

narrative also differ depending on when and to whom one is describing Estonia. 

Visitors, tourists and ex-patriots also construct and describe Estonia in different ways. 

 

 

1.1 Estonia: a Narrated Nation 

 

In his well-known work The Past is a Foreign Country from 1985, the historian David 

Lowenthal notes the similarities between the needs and efforts of nations and the needs 

of individuals to create a glorious past and a cohesive personal narrative. Lowenthal 

writes:  

 



 

 

7 

In reviewing alterations of the past, students of nationalism and psychoanalysis 

and literary criticism share an awareness that individuals, like states, must 

continually confront the competing pulls of dependence and autonomy, 

following and leading, tradition and creativity, infancy and maturity. 

(Lowenthal 1985: xix) 

 

Narrative research takes it as a premise that people live and/or understand their lives in 

storied forms, connecting events in the manner of a plot that has beginning, middle, and 

end points (Wertz 2011: 224). Not only do individuals make sense of their lives by 

narrating it. As already pointed out, groups, families, societies, and nations do it as well. 

Richard Kearney (2002) argues that “in our postmodern time of fragmentation and 

fracture” narrative is that which provides us with both individual and collective identity 

(Kearny 2002: 4). 

 

There is a personal reason behind the choice of contemporary narratives of Estonia as 

the theme of this thesis. Some of the questions I ask of the reader in the very first 

paragraph have been on my mind for years. For someone like myself, a Westerner, and 

a sociologist, who has spent the better part of a decade living and working in a former 

Eastern European country, questions of national narration are bound to arise. It is 

precisely in the dichotomy of West versus East that many of the questions lay. The 

Berlin Wall came down, the Soviet Union disintegrated, the Cold War ceased, and yet it 

seems difficult for Western Europeans to move away from the polarization of ‘West’ 

versus ‘East’, ‘us’ versus ‘them’, ‘central’ versus ‘peripheral’, ‘modern’ versus 

‘backwards’ or whatever contrasting examples one chooses to use. The grand narratives 

of the 20
th

 century are no longer useful for telling the story of many present-day 

European countries. There is no longer a Socialist or Communist bloc to contrast the so-

called free democratic countries of Old, Western Europe against. At the same time there 

is a lack of consensus of what the contemporary narrative – or narratives – should be. 

The ‘old’ stories find it difficult to incorporate the narratives of the newcomers. 

Likewise, post-Socialist and independent nations struggle to create new national 

narratives that could – to a smaller or larger extent – incorporate the years of Soviet 

occupation.   

 



 

 

8 

Like many other foreigners living in a post-Soviet country, I have often been baffled by, 

on one hand, the dismissal of the recent past [“that doesn’t count, it’s all different 

now”], and on the other hand, nostalgia for pre-Soviet days. The near-like worship of all 

things Western and capitalist and the attempts to modernize away anything post-1944 

but pre-1991 can be frustrating. There seems to be a resolve to promote, on one hand, 

‘ancient’ history, for example the medieval and picturesque Old Town, or on the other 

hand modern progression, for example the unlimited access to WIFI. All while the 

history – the times and lives – of people during the years of Soviet occupation seem to 

be disregarded or passed by.  

 

Like many other visitors or ex-patriots, I have certainly had preconceived images of 

what Estonia was and is. While reading recent books that describe Estonia ‘from the 

outside’, I have found these images consciously or subconsciously referred to. My 

personal story is probably largely influenced by the official narrative of Estonia 

considering the length of time I have spent in the country. As anyone researching the 

nation, I find Benedict Anderson’s concept ‘the imagined community’ useful. Anderson 

has had a profound influence on subsequent research on nations and nationalism since 

he introduced the idea of the nation as an imagined community in 1983. The stories of 

Estonia that in this thesis are referred to as institutional narratives of the nation may be 

questioned both by the members of the nation themselves, and by outsiders. Still, it is 

the national narrative that unites a nation, in particular when it’s past or present is 

questioned by others. Sometimes unofficial or outsider narratives of a nation run, 

parallel to the official and institutional ones, but other times they deviate almost to the 

point of ambiguity.   

 

What is excluded from a national narrative is certainly as interesting and exciting as 

what gets written into it. An important reason for my interest in exploring contemporary 

Estonian narratives of the nation is related to my previous research on Estonian’s small 

Swedish minority. However, Estonia has a much larger minority, the Russian speakers, 

consisting of nearly 25 percent of the population (Statistics Estonia, 2012). As is the 

case with many of the ‘new’ post-communist nations, the Estonian national narrative is 

not entirely coherent in its dealings with historical or ethnic minorities. Whose story 



 

 

9 

really gets told in the narrative of a nation? However, this thesis will not deal with the 

questions of whose version or narrative is more ‘truthful’ or ‘accurate’ or who should 

have the right to narrate the nation. For the purpose of this study, I have chosen 

narratives that, in my opinion, are narrative constructions of contemporary Estonia.  

 

 

1.2 Material  

 

In this thesis I study the narrative construction of Estonia through contemporary texts 

about the nation. The primary material used for this thesis, and describing what I 

defined as official or institutional narratives about Estonia, contained in chapter three, 

consist of several shorter sources. Firstly, there are the speeches of the President of the 

Estonian Republic, Mr. Toomas Hendrik Ilves’s, on Independence Day 2010, on 

Independence Day 2011, on Independence Day 2013, and on New Year’s Eve 2010. 

Secondly, a brochure produced by the Estonian Tourism Board, Where Medieval Meets 

Modern, will be used. Finally, the official application of the City of Tallinn for the 

Capital of Culture for 2011 to the European Commission, Everlasting Fairytale, is 

analyzed. 

 

The material for the part of the thesis concerning what I defined as unofficial or outsider 

narratives about Estonia, chapter four, consists mainly of three books, written by 

foreigners, that describe Estonia and the Estonians. In the case of the first two books – 

My Estonia: Passport Forgery, Meat Jelly Eaters, and Other Stories by Justin Petrone 

(2009), and ESTONIA: a Ramble through the Periphery by Alexander Theroux (2011) – 

the authors are Americans who have spent some time in Estonia. The third book, Otso 

Kantokorpi’s (2006) Sankarimatkailijan Neuvosto-Tallinn [The Herotraveller’s Soviet-

Tallinn], is written by a Finnish cultural critic with a self-professed admiration for 

Estonian history, culture, and art.  

 

In addition to the official material and the three books described above, different travel 

accounts that describe, review or mention Estonia will be analyzed. Many of these 



 

 

10 

sources write about the fascinated visitor’s exploration of a place and a country between 

East and West, and many of the authors are looking very hard to find remnants of the 

post-Soviet period in Estonia. Some of the material used in this thesis has been written 

as information specifically for tourists by commercial producers. Other texts, on the 

other hand, are written by the so-called ‘common man’ as general information for an 

interested public. As travel has changed in our post-modern world so has travel writing. 

And indeed, so has narrating the nation. In the globalized consumerist era that we 

presently live in, a nation’s narrative takes more and more of its cues from branding 

than from styles of travel writing or from the grand narratives of ideologies and nations. 

 

1.2.1 Institutional Narratives: The Making of Official Estonia 

The office of the President of Estonia, Mr. Toomas Hendrik Ilves, has its own webpage 

at http://www.president.ee/. On this page the visitor can find information in Estonian 

about the Republic of Estonia as well as information about the President’s official 

duties, which include speeches and visits. The webpage also exists in an English and a 

Russian version. The contents of Mr. Ilves’s speeches used for this thesis have thus 

been translated into English by the President’s office
1
.   

 

It is virtually an obligatory duty of a head of state to speak to his citizens or subjects on 

certain occasions throughout the year, usually, on the beginning of a new year and on 

the country’s national day or Independence Day. In the case of Estonia, there are two 

Independence Days to choose from. The first Independence Day, 24 February, 

originates from the declaration of independence in 1918 (Tannberg et al 2002: 210). 

During the Soviet occupation 1944-1991 this day was not an official holiday or 

commemorated in public. The second Independence Day, on 20 August, is celebrated in 

remembrance of the peaceful restoration of the independent Estonian Republic from the 

Soviet Union in 1991. The original Independence Day takes precedence and is 

considered more important and solemn, which can be seen in the rituals taking place in 

                                                 
1
 Estonian is the official language of Estonia. Russian as a native language is spoken by almost one fourth 

of the population. According to the latest census there are 321,198 permanent residents with Russian 

nationality living in Estonia (Statistics Estonia 2011). 

http://www.president.ee/


 

 

11 

this day. There is the rising of the flag on the Parliament building in early morning, a 

military parade at noon, the President’s speech (TV, radio, Internet) and in the evening a 

formal reception. The second Independence Day is also a public holiday but celebrated 

with much less fanfare.  

 

For this thesis, four of Mr. Ilves’s speeches have been selected: the New Year’s speech 

on 31 December 2010, the Independence Day speech on 24 February 2011, and the 

Independence Day speech on 24 February 2012. The speeches focus on both the year 

gone by and on times ahead. Both global events and national triumphs or disasters are 

commented on. President Ilves often refers to the unity and the strength of the nation in 

his speeches, making use of metaphors and myths (which will be further discussed in 

chapter 2.1.3).  

Interestingly, in the case of Estonia and Mr. Ilves, it could be argued that he is aiming 

for an audience beyond his countrymen and women or the naturalized citizens of 

Estonia. Mr. Ilves speaks not only to the Estonians in the original oral and written 

speeches. He also speaks of Estonia and the Estonians to a wider audience in Estonian, 

English and Russian. Therefore the speeches of President Ilves contribute to the official 

narrative of Estonia. In a sense, Mr. Ilves is also branding the nation in his speeches. 

When pointing to success stories and advances of the nation, he is selling Estonia as a 

product. It is an attractive place for foreign investment, not only a good home for the 

Estonians themselves. 

 

The brochure Where Medieval Meets Modern (MMM) introduces Estonia and in 

particular its capital Tallinn to foreign visitors. MMM was produced in 2010 by the 

Estonian Tourist Board under the heading “An Introduction to Estonia”. MMM can be 

found at the address http://campaign.visitestonia.com/20100414_kataloog/Visitestonia- 

kataloog. pdf. MMM is 15 pages long and includes both text and pictures. The brochure 

is available in English, German, Russian, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Norwegian, Polish, 

and French on visit Estonia’s webpage. MMM was one in a series of similar brochures 

produced by Enterprise Estonia in 2010. The other brochures in the series highlight the 

different geographical regions of Estonia (Fun at Every Turn, 2010) or certain themes 

http://campaign.visitestonia.com/20100414_kataloog/Visitestonia-%20kataloog.%20pdf
http://campaign.visitestonia.com/20100414_kataloog/Visitestonia-%20kataloog.%20pdf


 

 

12 

such as wellness or nature (Never Fails to Amaze, 2010, and A Source of Vital Energy, 

2010).  

 

MMM was chosen as material for this thesis for several reasons. Firstly, it is produced 

by the Tourist Board of Estonia, and can thus be said to represent an official narrative of 

the nation. Secondly, the print version of the brochure was included in the welcoming 

package given to delegates of an international academic conference at Tallinn 

University in 2010. MMM thus embodied the welcome and invitation of official Estonia 

to the foreign visitors. On the official Estonian Tourist Board webpage, MMM is 

summed up as follows: 

 

This brochure contains a brief introductory overview of Estonia introducing 

Estonian culture, history, traditions, nature and way of life, proceeding from 

the core values of Welcome to Estonia (contrasts, first and fast, clean and 

northern, available, romantic). The structure of this brochure comprises four 

topics: city holiday, health holiday, Estonian differences and nature holiday. 

(Visit Estonia) 

 

The application package Everlasting Fairytale (EF) of the city of Tallinn for the Capital 

of Culture for the year of 2011 was submitted to the European Union in 2007. The 

application can be found at http://www.tallinn2011.ee/pdf/tallinn2011_eng.pdf. The city 

of Tallinn was subsequently chosen by the European Union as one of two Capitals of 

Culture for 2011 (the other city being Turku in Finland).  

 

EF is 42 pages long and consists of both text and accompanying pictures. The author of 

the text is Kaarel Tarand and the translator is Maris Vaga. The application package 

consists of both facts about Estonia, the objectives of the project of Cultural Capital of 

Europe as well as the proposed results: 

 

In being the European Capital of Culture in 2011, Tallinn is eager to celebrate 

the level of maturity is has attained after being independent since 1991. As a 

free city, it has learned to be independent; it has rediscovered itself and gained 

the self-confidence to move boldly towards the future. The original objectives 

of the European Capital of Culture seems purpose-designed for Tallinn, despite 

the fact that back then its creators could neither foresee the enlargement of the 

European Union nor Estonia becoming a member state. Tallinn acknowledges 

http://www.tallinn2011.ee/pdf/tallinn2011_eng.pdf


 

 

13 

the fact that being a new member on the map of Europe can attract suspicion 

from some older members. To many Europeans, Tallinn is still more, like a 

mysterious fairy tale than a reality. (Tarand 2007: 21) 

 

EF was chosen as an example of an official narrative, as it conveys, in my opinion, the 

wishes of the nation Estonia to be seen by, and accepted into, the European family or 

cultural sphere. 

 

 

1.2.2 Outsider Narratives: The Unofficial Versions of Estonia  

 

Travel writing, or travel narratives, differ from travel guides in the sense that they are 

more subjective than a guidebook and may have autobiographical features. Although, 

expected to be largely factual, they can take the form of a diary or a memoir and borrow 

from other literary genres. This is one of the dilemmas – but also pleasures – of reading 

travel narratives. The author can take many liberties with the descriptions and his/her 

analysis of places visited and people met, and as readers we are sometimes left 

wondering as to both the intentions of the author and the ‘accuracy’ of given 

information.  

 

The first book chosen for this thesis is Justin Petrone’s My Estonia: Passport Forgery, 

Meat Jelly Eaters, and Other Stories published in English in 2009 by Petrone Print in 

Tallinn (a first edition in Estonian was also published in 2009). The book is 368 pages 

long and illustrated with color photographs taken by the author. In short, the outline of 

this book describes how an American journalism student named Justin meets an 

Estonian girl, Epp, and follows her first around Europe and finally to Estonia. He finds 

this country quirky, exotic and a little baffling. Justin tries to acclimatize and he is well 

liked for his good efforts to ‘go native’. My Estonia could be categorized both as a 

memoir as well a travel account. It fuses a biographical narrative with traditional 

observations of a foreign land. 

 

The second book is ESTONIA: a Ramble through the Periphery by Alexander Theroux. 

The book was published in 2011 by Fantagraphics Books in Seattle, USA. ESTONIA is 



 

 

14 

351 pages long and illustrated with color photographs taken by the author and 

reproductions of paintings by his wife. The basic plot of the book is as follows: a 

middle-aged American author Alexander Theroux accompanies his much younger wife, 

who is on a Fulbright scholarship, to the peripheral country of Estonia. This country is 

both foreign and a challenge for the author. Theroux shares many facts about Estonia, 

its people, language and culture with the reader. However, it is difficult to categorize 

Theroux’ ESTONIA, an issue which will be further dealt with in chapter 4.2. 

 

The third book is Otso Kantokorpi’s Sankarimatkailijan Neuvosto-Tallinna [The 

Herotraveller’s Soviet-Tallinn] published in Finnish by LIKE in 2006. The book is 208 

pages long and illustrated with black and white photographs taken by Kantokorpi. 

Sankarimatkailija is one book in a series of guidebooks by Kantokorpi on Tallinn. The 

aim of Sankarimatkailija is to take Finnish visitors off the beaten touristic track, that is, 

out of the Old Town of Tallinn. Kantokorpi has made it his mission to show the Finnish 

visitor the ‘other sides’ of Tallinn, past the shops selling alcohol and outside the tourist 

old town. This is the only material in this thesis not originally written in English and all 

the translations are my own.  

 

1.3 Structure of the Thesis 

This thesis shows how a nation is constructed through narratives. In order to do so I 

define ‘nation’ and explain what I mean by a ‘narrated nation’. In chapter two, “A 

Narrated Nation”, I introduce Benedict Anderson’s (1991) concept of the nation as an 

‘imagined community’. Furthermore, I give an overview of Stuart Hall’s (1992) theory 

of the common elements used in the narration of a nation. Hall’s five elements serve as 

my device for analyzing the official narratives of Estonia. In sub chapter 2.2, ”Others 

Describing the Nation”, I give a brief overview of the history and genres of travel 

writing. This sub chapter also introduces the concepts of stereotyping, post-colonialism, 

and branding, as relevant to national narrative. Sub chapter 2.3 “Narrating the Nation in 

a Post-Modern World” takes in the global and digitalized era. Furthermore, I will 

discuss how narrating the nation has changed in the post-modern global world.  

 



 

 

15 

In the analysis part of this thesis, chapters three and four, I will point to examples of 

contemporary narratives where Estonia is produced – and reproduced – both from the 

inside and from the outside.  

 

In chapter three, “The Most Modern Medieval Country”, institutional narratives on 

Estonia, such as the President’s speeches, a travel brochures, and the city of Tallinn’s 

application for European Capital of Culture will be examined and analyzed.  

 

In chapter four, “A Strange Northern Country”, outsider narratives of Estonia in the 

form of recently published books and web pages will be examined and analyzed. While 

it would certainly be fascinating to consider fictional and cinematic narratives of 

Estonia, this study will limit itself to written narratives in the form of books, speeches, 

brochures and web pages.  

 

In chapter five, “Conclusion”, I will summarize the study and provide a conclusion of 

my analysis of the contemporary narratives of Estonia. 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

16 

A NARRATED NATION 

 

Telling stories is as old a custom as mankind. Narratives take many forms – myth, epic, 

sacred history, legend, saga, and so forth. Within every genre there are many sub-

genres: oral and written, poetic and prosaic, historic and fictional. However, every story 

shares the common function of someone telling something to someone about something 

(Kearney 2002: 5). As people interact with each other they share stories and make sense 

of the world through these narratives.  

 

 

2.1 Narrating the Nation 

 

For the purpose of this study, I have chosen to examine contemporary narratives about a 

particular nation, Estonia. The narratives are representation of events that may be real or 

imagined. I see the narratives as social constructions of reality. Everyday life is 

presented as a reality that is interpreted and made meaningful by people. In this highly 

subjective process the world around them is made coherent (Berger & Luckmann 1966: 

33).  

 

Narratives construct the social world that we all live in and create our identities as 

individuals and as collectives. To be able to own a cohesive and well-presented 

narrative is just as important for a nation as it is for one of its single inhabitants. 

Maurice Halbwachs argued for the role of narratives in constructing and organizing 

social experience (Halbwachs 1992: 48-49). He claimed that people create and share 

stories that in order to understand the world they live in and in order to achieve a feeling 

of community. 

 

So it is that when people are think they are alone, face to face with themselves, 

other people appear and with them the groups of which they are members. 

(Halbwachs, 1992: 49) 

 

In this thesis I will focus on theories about the narrated nation and national identity. I 

agree with Stefan Berger (2008) who writes that “the stories we tell each other about 



 

 

17 

our national belonging and being constitute the nation. These stories change over time 

and place and are always contested, often violently (Berger 2008: 1). It is also worth 

pointing out, that in the same manner as we tell stories of our own national belonging, 

others tell stories about us. 

 

Narratives are often obtained by interviewing people on a particular topic. However, 

narrative research can also involve the analysis of written text (Josselson 2011: 225). 

My definition of narrative texts in this particular case is a broad one. It includes 

everything from printed books to commercial web-pages.  

 

In this chapter I will discuss how the nation is narrated – both from the inside and the 

outside. What does a nation mean in this context, and how is this nation is narrated from 

within? Why are the stories about the nation important and how are they created and 

communicated to others? I will examine the nation as a collective project and look at 

reasons for forgetfulness on the part of a national narrative. Furthermore, I will discuss 

how outsiders may narrate a nation, in this particular case through travel writing. 

Throughout the chapter I will give examples of the narrated nation, Estonian. Finally, I 

will discuss specific traits of nation narrating in a post-Communist context.  

 

 

2.1.1 What is a Nation? 

 

The term nation is most commonly understood as a group of people that share a 

common culture, language, ethnicity, and history. Most often it is also used to refer to a 

people that share a clearly defined territory or government, as in the nation-state. Nation 

carries various meanings for different users of the tem, and the connotations and 

meanings have changed over time.  

 

“What is a nation?” asks Ernest Renan in his famous essay from 1882. Is it, for 

example, race or a common language that unite a group of people into what we call a 

nation? According to Renan it is not. “A nation is a soul, a spiritual principle - - The 

nation, like the individual, is the culmination of a long past of endeavours, sacrifice, and 



 

 

18 

devotion” (Renan 1990: 19). Like Renan, Benedict Anderson (1991) also goes beyond 

the physical or geopolitical when defining the nation. A nation is, in short, a socially 

constructed community held together by an imaginary bond and the memories of a 

common past. 

 

In Imagined Communities (1991) Anderson gives three essential elements of the 

imagined cultural community that comprise a nation. Firstly, Anderson stresses the 

importance of language and states that a nation is “a community imagined through 

language. However, Anderson points out that “it is always a mistake to treat languages 

in the way that certain nationalist ideologues treat them – as an emblem of nation-ness, 

like flags, costumes, folk dances and the rest. More important is the capacity language 

has for generating imagined communities, building in effect particular solidarities” 

(Anderson 1991: 133, 146). Finland would be such an example, where having two 

national languages does not deflect from an imagined, collective identity of the nation.  

 

However, having a shared language – or languages – is not enough to create an 

imagined community. The people must also be able to partake of what they have in 

common. The second of Anderson’s essential elements for the construction of an 

imagined community is communication, and namely, the technical development of print 

media (Anderson 1991: 44).  

 

Finally, besides language and print media, Anderson associates the emergence of 

nationalism with capitalism. As print media developed and printed material became 

available to ‘the common man’, shared ideas of nationalism began to emerge and 

spread. Print capitalism made it possible for masses of people to share with each other, 

and to relate to each other in a completely new ways (Anderson 1991: 36). 

 

It is also worth remembering what Anderson notes, namely, that one can be invited into 

a nationality, as the nation is conceived in language, not in blood. “Print-language is 

what invents nationalism, not a language per se (Anderson 1991: 134). 

 

 



 

 

19 

2.1.2 Why Stories Matter 

 

According to Benedict Anderson (1991: 204), the narratives of a nation can be said to 

resemble that of an individual’s autobiography. Like the individual, the nation needs the 

stories to make sense of, not only the present, but the past as well as a probably future.  

But why do we need stories? Kearney (2002) goes as far as arguing, by rephrasing 

Socrates, that an unnarrated life is not worth living (Kearney 2002: 14). 

 

Ernst Renan (1990: 19) discusses the spiritual principle of the nation and what 

constitutes such a principle. The foundation for the nation’s spiritual principle, or its 

soul, is two-fold. Firstly, the nation needs to be in a possession of a remembered past, 

and, secondly, there must be a willingness of the members of the nation to contine to 

live together and carry on their legacy. The condition for being a nation is to have 

achieved great things in the past and a wish to go on to perform further deeds. 

 

A nation is therefore a large-scale solidarity, constituted by the feeling of 

sacrifices that one has made in the past and those that one are prepared to make in 

the future. (Renan 1990: 19) 

 

Likewise, in his article ‘The Nation Form: History and Ideology’, Etienne Balibar 

(1991:86) states that the history of nations, our own as well as the nations of others, are 

presented to us in the narrative form a continuity. The narrative of the nation is a project 

stretching over a long time “in which there are different stages and moments of coming 

to self-awareness”. Some nations have indeed had the privilege of the uninterrupted 

development of their national project and the formation of its identity for centuries. 

Others, for example the Baltic States, enjoyed a few decades of independence in the 

early 20
th

 century before being deprived of their freedom for almost half a century due 

to the Soviet Occupation. In the case of Estonia, the history and the identity formation 

of the young nation (1918-1940) violently interrupted has somehow to be joined 

together with that of the newly independent Estonia (1991- ) so that the narrative 

appears to be cohesive and rational.  The stories of the nation can almost be compared 

to a sort of glue that holds the nation together, at least in narrative form, and in 

particular in times of crisis. 



 

 

20 

2.1.3 How to Narrate a Nation 

 

Stuart Hall (1992) identifies five main elements for telling the cultural narrative of a 

nation and to create a national identity for the entire nation. The first element is that “the 

narrative of the nation is told and retold in national histories, literatures, the media and 

popular culture” (Hall 1992: 293). This repeated and reproduced narrative provides the 

basis for everything from stories of historical events to national symbols, such as flags. 

The representations of shared experiences, whether triumphs or defeats, give meaning to 

the nation. The members of such an ‘imagined community’ share this narrative, which 

gives meaning, importance and significance to ordinary and individual lives (Hall 1992: 

293). Hall (1992: 293).  gives the example of England with its green and rolling hills 

and celebrations like Poppy Day that both define Englishness or what England is In the 

same manner, Finland’s Finnishness can be identified through symbolic value of nature 

(the thousand lakes) and the geographical location (a cold and snowy northern land) 

(Kotila 2012: 80-82). 

 

Hall’s second element is the emphasis on origins, continuity, tradition, and timelessness 

(Hall 1992: 294). The narratives of the nation tie the members of  the nation and 

community to the past and give the promise of a bright future. According to Ernest 

Gellner (quoted in Hall 1992: 294)., national identity is represented as something 

primordial, as a ‘natural’ phenomenon. If repressed or occupied, it could be described as 

slumbering and ready to be ‘awakened’ (Gellner In the case of Estonia, the idea of the 

nation and its people existing and waiting for the dawn of freedom during the Soviet 

occupation is almost as powerful as the concept and narrative of independence (as 

discussed below). In another narrative, Tallinn is repeatedly referred to as an “ancient 

city by the sea”. The notion that the city has existed ‘forever’ is used repeatedly in 

touristic narratives (see for example Tarand 2007: 12; 49; 76). 

 

The third strategy for national narrative that Hall discusses is what Hobsbawm and 

Ranger have termed the invention of tradition. By invented traditions they refer to 

different practices and rituals that by repetition imply continuity with a historical past 

(Hobsbawm & Ranger in Hall 1992: 294). In 2014 the Republic of Estonia officially 



 

 

21 

celebrated its 96
th

 birthday. The raising of the flag on the Parliament building and the 

military parades overseen by the President follow the same procedure as they did during 

the period of the first Estonian Republic (1918 – 1940). For an outsider, it may be 

difficult to grasp the concept of celebrating 96 years of independence when the country 

was in fact occupied for nearly 50 of those years. However, the return to important 

traditions of celebrating a nation’s independence, in the case of Estonia, cements the 

bond between two ‘good’ or preferable periods in the recent history. 

 

The fourth example of the narrative of national culture is the foundational myth, which 

is the story that locates the origins of the nation (Hall 1992: 294). This story of the 

nation is trying to locate the origins of a nation and its people so early that they become 

“lost in mists, of not ‘real’, but ‘mythic’ times” (Hall 1992: 295). Invented traditions 

can make less desirable periods or events of history more understandable and fit them 

into a national narrative. Medieval traditions, whether truthful or not, brought to life for 

commemoration of significant historical dates seldom celebrate serfdom, but can serve 

as a reminder of a people’s successful defence under a certain lord against a foreign 

aggressor. Marek Tamm (2008: 505) points out that, in the case of Estonia “the national 

historical narrative is inseparable from the concept of independence”. The Singing 

Revolution, a series of events that took place between 1987 and 1991 and ultimately led 

to Estonia’s independence from the Soviet Union, has already become a mythical period 

in Estonian history. Twenty-five years later it seems that “every” Estonian took part in 

protests, concerts, and other mass events to let their opinions be known. Subsequently, 

‘everyone’ has a story to tell about this period. Naturally, this is not the case. Hundreds 

of thousands of people did participate in the actual events, but in the mythology of the 

Singing Revolution ‘every’ Estonian took part. 

 

Finally, Hall (1992: 295) concludes that national identity is often grounded on the idea 

that the nation consists of one pure, original people or ‘folk’. In reality, there are hardly 

any primordial people left anywhere is the world, who exercise power over an original 

territory. 

 



 

 

22 

In Nation and Narration Homi K. Bhabha (1990: 3) explores “the Janus-faced 

ambivalence of language itself in the construction of the Janus-faced discourse of the 

nation”. Bhabha asks for a wide dissemination through which the construction of the 

fields of meanings and symbols associated with national life can be carried out. 

According to Bhabha: 

 

The nation-space needs to be investigated in the process of the articulation of 

elements; where meanings may be partial because they are in media res; and 

history may be half-made because it is in the process of being made; and the 

image of cultural authority may be ambivalent because it is caught, uncertainly, 

in the act of ‘composing’ its powerful image. (Bhabha 1990: 3) 

 

This is different from the persistent attempts of nationalist discourses to produce 

narratives of continuous national progress or the idea of a primeval Volk (Bhabha 1990: 

1). The course of the life of ‘real’ nations is signified by stumbling and faltering, as well 

as by success and victory, which makes it all the more interesting, when the narratives 

do not always reflect the struggle.  

 

 

2.1.4 Is the Narrated Nation a Collective Project? 

 

No nation consists of a homogenous group of people. From historical wars and the 

shifting of territorial boundaries, to the migration of the modern, globalized world 

peoples have moved, and settled, and mixed voluntarily or by force. Even if nationalist 

narratives may strive to compose a narrative of an ethnically ‘clean’ or culturally 

uniform people, the reality is always something more ambiguous and muddled. Hall 

(1996: 296) notes that “nations are always composed of different social classes, gender, 

minorities, and ethnic groups. National cultures and national narratives are therefore 

also structures of power”. It is worth remembering that when a nation is unified by war 

or by a colonizing power, exercising cultural hegemony over the colonized or the 

occupied (Hall 1996: 297).   

 



 

 

23 

Both warfare, but also more peaceful political, social and economic changes can be 

unifying forces for a nation. To pull together for a common goal, to instil the notions of 

distinctiveness and uniqueness can strengthen the national identity project on the 

imaginary collective level. At the same time, it may also cause ‘othering’. (Petersoo 

2007: 118.) 

 

Alan Megill (2008: 3) also cautions against the construction of nations on identities 

rooted in history because “they tend to essentialise particular ways of belonging to the 

nation and exclude others”. The same narrative that can be used to unify a nation 

pointing to a common past and heritage could potentially be ‘turned against’ parts of the 

nation’s inhabitants and write them out of the narrative (Megill 2008: 3). 

 

 

2.1.5 Why Nations Forget 

 

Just as individuals cannot necessarily remember their childhood or every single event in 

their lives, neither can nations. As well as remembering and celebrating, or choosing to 

remember or celebrate, certain events of its history, the nation can also, as a collective, 

choose to forget. Benedict Anderson (1991: 204) comments on the oblivions of the 

nation: “All profound changes in consciousness, by their very nature, bring with them 

characteristic amnesias. Out of such oblivions, in specific historical circumstances, 

spring narratives”.  

 

The past is a notoriously difficult subject for both the individual and the nation. 

Immanuel Wallerstein (1991: 78) writes about pastness as “a mode by which persons 

are persuaded to act in the present in ways the might not otherwise act”. Since this 

pastness is a central element for maintaining group socialization, it is a moral as well as 

political problem. In addition, Wallerstein argues, pastness is a contemporary problem. 

Moreover, since the reality is constantly changing, so is pastness (Wallerstein 1991: 78). 

 

 

 



 

 

24 

2.2 Outsiders on the Nation 

 

In this chapter I will give a brief outline of travel writing and discuss how the outsider 

describing the nation has traditionally been a white male. Furthermore, I will give an 

overview of how Estonia has been described in writing by some men traveling in the 

past 150 years. Finally, I will discuss the problem of the outsiders narrating a nation. Is 

there a justified fear that the outsiders will not ‘get it right’, but rather resort to 

stereotyping or worse? 

 

 

2.2.1 Travel Writing 

 

Narratives of travelling are as old as travelling and fiction itself. From Herodotus to 

TripAdvisor people have been fascinated and intrigued by what others have 

experienced, and what advice they can bestow. The writer thus takes on the role of an 

authority, even if he or she is not expected to provide minute details concerning 

sights, transportation and such. I choose to stress the words a greater authority in the 

quote below, because I feel that Edward Said (2003) expresses something of what I 

find interesting within the genre of travel and guidebooks: namely, the fact that the 

narrative seems to acquire an authority beyond what it is actually is.   

 

Travel books or guidebooks are about as ‘natural’ a kind of text, as logical in 

their composition and in their use, as any book one can think of, precisely 

because of this human tendency to fall back on a text when the uncertainties of 

travel in strange parts seem to threaten one’s equanimity. Many travellers find 

themselves saying of an experience in a new country that it wasn’t what they 

expected, meaning that it wasn’t what a book said it would be. And of course 

many writers of travel books or guidebooks compose them in order to say that 

a country is like this, or better, that it is more colourful, expensive, interesting, 

and so forth. The idea in either case is that people, places, and experiences can 

always be described by a book, so much so that the book (or text) acquires a 

greater authority, and use, even than the actuality it describes. (Said 2003: 93, 

emphasis added) 

 

Said’s Orientalism (2003) is a central work in postcolonial studies and criticism. In it 

Said helps the reader to identify the processes that construct the binary opposites of 



 

 

25 

‘West’ and ‘East’ – or the ‘West’ and the ‘Rest’ – and uncover the values that cause 

these opposites to emerge. Examples of the opposites are: civilised/uncivilised, 

developed/undeveloped, and liberated/repressed. The academic interest in travel 

writing as a genre can be associated with the spread of postcolonial studies in 

humanities and social studies. Which is an interest that seeks to study and identify the 

European imperial project and its role in the foundation of our modern, globalized 

world (Thompson 2011: 3). 

 

Travel writing, or literature, is mostly defined as narrative accounts about an 

individual’s encounter with another place. This is a unique for of fiction that includes 

everything from journals, and diaries to narratives of exploration and adventure 

(Blanton 2002: 2). Traditional travel guides, on the other hand, provide readers with 

more pragmatic information about a specific place. Sometimes these two overlap, but 

it is generally considered that travel writing provides an experience for the reader of a 

particular place, culture, or people seen through the eyes of the writer. This is what 

we have come to expect of travel literature today: impersonal and personal elements 

(Blanton 2002: 5). In addition to the aforementioned forms of travel writing, I would 

include blogs, weblogs, and other internet forums for travellers in the postmodern, 

digitalized world. 

 

As Blanton points out, travel writing is an ancient business. It was, however, not until 

the eighteenth century that the idea of travel – and travel writing – for ‘every man’ 

came to be considered a worthwhile and essential undertaking. The Grand Tours 

were a sort of instructional rite the passage for students and writers, where they 

developed intellectual powers both through the exposure to culture and the self-

reflections of writing (Blanton 2002: 11). 

 

That both travel and travel writing were, for a long time, a predominantly male 

business, is evident. What was deemed worthwhile both for exploration and 

subsequently writing about would surely have been different if women had been 

allowed to travel and write. The white, male European travel and exploration writing 

produced “the rest of the world” for European readership. According to Mary Louise 



 

 

26 

Pratt (1992: 5), the travel writing by Europeans about non-Europeans still partake in 

this kind of ‘Euroimperialism’. 

 

In her book Imperial Eyes. Travel Writing and Transculturation (1992) Pratt 

discusses the phenomenon of 1970s travel writing which she refers to as ‘white 

man’s lament’. According to Pratt (1992: 220)., it “seems to remain remarkably 

uniform across representations of different places, and by westerners of different 

nationalities”. On one hand, there is the realization that, in a postcolonial and 

postmodern era, there are no more white spots on the map to be explored or 

conquered. On the other hand, the previously colonized areas are liberated, 

modernized, industrialized, and urbanized. The time of domination of the white, 

western male as the one to observe and define is coming to an end. Pratt (Pratt 1992: 

220) writes:  

 

It is in this fear that the contemporary seeing-man records what has always 

been there: the returning gaze of others, now demanding recognition as 

subjects of history.(Pratt 1992: 220) 

 

With the age of Internet technology and the birth of modern electronic versions of travel 

writing in the late 20
th

 century the death of traditional travel writing has been 

foreshadowed by some. The fact that anyone can publish their travelogues seems neither 

to have dampened ‘professional’ travel writing nor print publishing of travel books. One 

of the central issues of travel writing has always been the relationship between the self 

and the world, which means that the development of the genre of travel literature is 

closely linked to that of other genres of literature, in particular fiction and 

autobiography. As Blanton (2002: 29) points out “the genre has survived because it has 

changed”. 

 

Travel writing in 2014 is not what it was in 1914 or 1814, but it lives on as a genre. 

Armchair travelers want to read about the adventures of people who have gone to 

foreign places and experienced exotic cultures. The forms and the contents of the story 

may have changed, but the mission is still the same. Oxfeldt (2010: 209) finds 

similarities between the classic travelogue, which is structured around a narrative of a 



 

 

27 

quest, with the postmodern and deconstructed narrative where the quest is downgraded 

“through irony, anticlimax, parody, and carnivalization”. A journey is a journey, 

whether it is written in the form of a memoir, a diary, or a blog post. 

 

 

2.2.2 Estonia in Travel Writing 

 

Stories about the distant land of Estonia were first told by the ancient explorers 

Pytheas and Tacitus. It was said that in the far north, at the last stop of the end 

of the world, there was a strange country with inhabitants and customs like no 

other. People knew about this place thanks to this tale, but few, if any, ever saw 

it with their own eyes. One thousand years later, Arab adventure seekers 

rediscovered this place. It was at this time that the 12
th

-century geographer and 

scientist, Al Idris, identified Tallinn as the “most important city” in this 

northern country. (Tarand 2007: 11) 

 

In the application for European Capital of Culture, the author take some artistic 

freedom when describing the documentation of Estonia’s existence. Estonia was not 

known to the ancient world and certainly not under the name Estonia.  

 

Modern Estonia has been mentioned and described by travellers and visitors 

particularly in the past 150 years. At the advent of this period, the authors are almost 

exclusively educated men from the Nordic countries or Western Europe. The German 

school inspector Carl Russwurm, who worked in Hapsal in the mid-19
th

 century 

provides us with some insight into the conditions among the Estonian-Swedes in his 

work Eibofolke oder die Schweden an den Küsten Ehstlands und auf Runö (1855). 

Several Lutheran ministers write about their postings in remote locations and 

describe the peasant population and their daily lives (see Ekman 2003[1847]; Schantz 

1967). 

 

Curt Muthe’s Estland och Lettland (1938), published in Sweden, and Ronald Seth’s 

Baltic Corner. Travel in Estonia (1939), published in the UK, are examples from the 

inter-war period, when Estonia was an independent nation and raced to reach the 

standards of other independent European states and economies. Although the late 19
th

 



 

 

28 

or early 20
th

 century traveller often found Estonia lacking in comfort and 

accommodation, the descriptions are usually favourable. The peasants are good-

natured, if somehow backwards, the nature is pretty and there are few other tourists 

about. This enhanced the feeling of experiencing – almost exploring – a place 

previously untouched and therefore unique. Travel books published in the late 1930s 

are clearly intended for the budding mass tourism in Northern Europe. The visitors 

were unanimously surprised to find Estonia, and in particular Tallinn, such a 

developed and dynamic place. The coastal towns of Pärnu and Hapsal had high hopes 

of before long competing with the other spa towns along the Baltic coast for the 

attention of tourists. Regular ferry traffic ran between Sweden and Estonia in the 

summer. This was, naturally, a development that the outbreak of the Second World 

War put an end to. 

 

When foreign or non-Soviet tourism to Estonia was resumed in the 1960s and 1970s, 

the capital was visited mostly by Finnish ferry tourists looking to buy cheap vodka. 

Travel in the Soviet Union was restricted and there were no opportunities of 

experiencing anything other than what was on the official agenda. After the fall of the 

Berlin wall, and the Soviet empire, and with Estonia regaining its independence in 

1991, travel to the Baltic countries picked up quickly. No longer is it only the Finns 

seeking inexpensive alcohol, but also Europeans and Americans coming on large 

cruise ships in the summer. Tallinn was the European Capital of Culture in 2011 and 

has been on the list of cities-to-visit for the partying young for several years in a row. 

 

 

2.2.3 What Are They Saying about Us? 

 

In the case of a recent book about Estonia, Alexander Theroux’ ESTONIA: a Ramble 

through the Periphery, which constitutes part of the primary material for this thesis, 

many a reader’s patience was put to a test. Although Theroux expressed some 

admiration for his chosen subject, Estonia – the language, the culture, and the people – 

he, nonetheless, managed to offend native and foreign readers alike.  

 



 

 

29 

Even if this study does not include looking at fictional literature as representation of 

Estonia, it is worth mentioning a recent debate concerning literary representations of 

Estonia. The debate is interesting, because it highlights the question of ‘them’ and ‘us’, 

‘Western’ and ‘Soviet’, among other issues. During the fall of 2010 there was a public 

debate within the cultural and literary circles Estonia focusing on the novel Purge 

(2008). This novel was written by the Finnish-Estonian author Sofi Oksanen and first 

published in Finnish and Estonian in 2008 and subsequently translated to many 

languages. In the debate which begun when Purge won several international, literary 

prizes, Oksanen was accused of giving a too nasty, glum, and even incorrect description 

of Estonian history and society. Some of Oksanen’s critics would have liked to see 

‘nice’ books about Estonia written and preferably by ‘real’ Estonians. Somewhat more 

subdued criticism has also befallen other Finns who have written about Estonia, for 

example Seppo Zetterberg’s Viron historia [The History of Estonia] (2007). The 

following questions were: Why was this comprehensive and monumental work on 

Estonia’s history completed by a Finn and not an Estonian? Would its qualities have 

been different, and would the history have been told more accurately had the book been 

written by an Estonian? Both incidents raised the questions of authority: who can say 

what and how about Estonia, or any country for that matter. The debate also showed 

how difficult it is to keep separate different genres when emotions arise. Oksanen’s 

book is a work of fiction, but was read and analyzed by many as historical 

documentation. The same blurring of genres occurs both in the cases of the official 

narratives and unofficial narratives, such as travel narratives and travelogues. 

 

Describing Estonia or constructing an image or narrative of the country and its people, 

whether in fiction or non-fiction, is not an easy task. The writer seems bound by several 

explicit or implicit contracts and rules. There are contracts concerning the relationship 

between the author and her/his readers, but also contracts and rules concerning the genre 

and the subject of the story. Although this thesis will not discuss narrator-reader 

relationships or contracts, one such aspects that can complicate the narration of a nation 

is worth mentioning, namely stereotyping. 

 



 

 

30 

In her article “The Uses and Abuses of National Stereotypes” Isobel Lindsay (1997) 

discusses Anglo-Scottish stereotypes and their use in politics:  

 

Part of the nationalist strategy has been to use national stereotypes to project 

certain messages. It has been, if not a construction, at least a cultivation of 

aspects of identity. (Lindsay 1997) 

 

Stereotyping can be used both by ‘us’ and ‘them’ to make a point, whether it is pleasant 

or unfair, accurate or false. Lindsay continues: “The stereotype is an essential 

component in the construction of identity. It is a universal way of trying to find pattern 

and predictability in complex experience” (Lindsay 1997). According to Lindsey, the 

importance in the national stereotypes is not whether they reflect truth or reality, past or 

present, but that they are part of our consciousness (Lindsay 1997).  Because we all 

have preconceived notions of other groups and nations, these stereotypes may influence 

our behavior – and obviously also the narratives about these groups. 

 

There is an old joke that has circulated in (Western) Europe for decades: “Heaven is 

where the police are British, the chefs are French, the mechanics are German, the lovers 

are Italian, and it is all organized by the Swiss. Hell is where the police are German, the 

chefs are English, the mechanics are French, the lovers are Swiss, and it’s all organized 

by the Italians”. Used as self-irony or for light banter, stereotypes can be both amusing 

and perhaps even useful. National and cultural stereotypes can be both descriptive and 

prescriptive in nature: they are the perceivers’ shared beliefs about the characteristics of 

a certain group and at the same time also function as social expectations (Lehtonen 

2013).  

 

It is when stereotypes cross over to prejudice they can become potentially harmful. In 

view of the past years’ economic recession in Europe, the labeling and the stereotyping 

has said to have hardened in the political rhetoric of the European Union. Previously 

latent north-south or south-north stereotypes are now used as arguments by both sides. 

Interestingly, neither of these jokes and the current political squabbles includes Eastern 

Europe. EUobserver.com writes:  

 



 

 

31 

Under the extreme version of the narrative, northern Europeans are depicted as 

hard-working, law-abiding people who live within their means. Southern 

Europeans are presented as work-shy, rule-bending and profligate. (Mahony 

2012) 

 

Understandably, neither Estonia, nor any other ‘new’ EU member state wishes to be 

seen as a country consisting of passport forgers or a cheap labor reserve for ‘old’ 

Europe. Estonia does not want to be stereotyped or seen as ‘the other’, but wants to be 

included as a rightful member in the (Western) European family. 

 

While the institutional narratives are easier to control as far as acceptable stereotyping 

or the making of myths and legends, outsider narratives often pose a dilemma. Outsider 

narratives, such as travel literature, may put a nation on the map, but it might not be 

entirely in the manner or for the reasons one had wished. 



 

 

32 

3 THE MOST MODERN MEDIEVAL COUNTRY 

 

This chapter presents and analyses the contemporary official and institutionalized 

narratives of Estonia that I have chosen for this thesis.  

 

Like most – or all – of the former Eastern European countries, newly-independent 

Estonia took action in all areas of society to rid itself of the Soviet era heritage. The 

initial years of independence saw the birth of new laws, regulations, and institutions. As 

Marek Tamm (2013: 1) points out, these ‘new’, or transitional, societies have a dual 

task. They have to build a bright future while settling their accounts with an often 

contested and complicated past.  

 

For a society that has recently undergone major upheaval, the need for a unifying 

narrative is especially strong. As will be shown in the examples of the official narratives 

of Estonia, the elements of freedom, modernity, and myth are used repeatedly. These 

elements can be found in the President’s speeches to the nation, in brochures published 

by the Tourist Board of by Brand Estonia, as well as in the Tallinn application for 

Capital of Culture of Europe for 2011. They send the following message from Estonia 

to the reader: (1) We are an independent and unique nation, (2) we are no longer an 

Eastern European country or a post-Soviet state, (3) we are part of the European Union, 

and (4) we are a modern, successful and dynamic country. Furthermore, themes such as 

digitalization, nature, and the historic European past are often utilized. 

  

3.1 Narrative of Freedom: Soviet No More 

 

Picture 1. The President of Estonia on the Independence Day 24.02.2013. 

 

 



 

 

33 

The current President of the Republic of Estonia, Mr. Toomas Hendrik Ilves (pictured 

above), makes official speeches to the nation on several occasions each year, as did his 

predecessors. The most important speeches, which are broadcast on radio, TV and the 

Internet are delivered on Estonia’s original Independence Day, and on New Year’s Eve. 

During his presidency, Mr. Ilves has had occasion to celebrate many Estonian 

milestones in his speeches. 

 

Ladies and gentlemen, Ten months and a week from now, when Estonia 

becomes a member of the European monetary union, we will be the most 

integrated state in northern Europe. I repeat: the most integrated. Of the 

countries in Northern Europe, only Estonia is a participant in all four 

integration programs involving Western democracies – the euro zone, the 

Schengen acquis, the European Union and NATO. That means Estonia has 

never found itself so firmly at the centre of Europe. Never. This gives us an 

immense sense of security. It also gives us the responsibility of knowing what 

is going on in our four common spaces. It imposes on us the obligation to 

participate in the dialogue, if we want to be a functioning part of the centre of 

Europe. (The President of the Republic of Estonia 2010a) 

 

Perhaps there is nothing peculiar about the President of Estonia, Mr. Ilves, calling his 

country the most integrated in Europe. This is expected of the leader of any nation. Ms. 

Angela Merkel, the German Chancellor, who was re-elected in September 2013, calls 

her country ‘an exceptional nation’ in references to its strong economy in a European 

Union fraught by recessions (Hessel 2013). Mr. David Cameron, the British Prime 

Minister, declares that the UK “is still the greatest country on Earth” speaking to 

political supporters in October 2012 (Wheeler 2012). However, in a political and 

historical perspective, Estonia is a newcomer and lightweight in the European family 

compared to nations with the historic heritage such as the United Kingdom and 

Germany. Still, it is Mr. Ilves’s duty and role to remind the Estonian people time after 

time that they are indeed a part of Europe, and, specifically, Western Europe. However, 

at times Mr. Ilves also uses the term ‘northern’ to define and locate Estonia (as seen in 

the example above). 

 

The accepted and ‘proper’ official narrative about Estonia and its history, culture, 

language and people is both explicitly referred to and often implied. According to this 



 

 

34 

narrative, the first independent Estonian republic (1918-1940) is considered the ‘good 

old times’ against which everything else is compared and measured. The national 

identity and cultural uniqueness that had been born and developed during the national 

awakening of the late Czarist period was celebrated and cherished in the time between 

the two world wars. Unfortunately, due to the Nazi and Soviet occupations, the 

Estonians lost their freedom and independence for approximately 50 years. The Soviet 

period is per definition a “dark and bad” stretch in Estonia’s history and there are few 

things to celebrate about this era. Further, in the unofficial official narrative, the 

Estonian’s persevered and managed to hold on to their unique identity despite the 

attempts to ‘Sovietize’ them. The second Estonian republic, which gained its 

independence on 20 August 1991, is universally described as a success story. Nothing 

less is allowed or accepted. According to the modern myth, the Estonians first sang 

themselves to freedom in a peaceful revolution. Estonia then managed to join NATO, 

the European Union and the European Monetary Union. Estonia prides itself on being 

an ‘e-tiger’, a country where people not only pay bills and buy bus tickets online, but 

also vote in national elections.  

 

In Return to the Western World Marju Lauristin (1997: 29) writes that for Estonian, it 

was a self-evident outcome of the 1991 independence that they would return to Europe. 

They fully expected to be accepted by the West and to be recognized as an integral part 

of the Western cultural realm (Lauristin 1997: 29). However, this view was, and is still 

not, entirely self-evident. Maria Mälksoo (2009: 655) describes Polish and Baltic 

processes to become European in the post-Cold War period. The “becoming European” 

in this case means the desire to achieve “full Europeanness” as opposed to the “lesser 

European” designation of Eastern Europe in comparison to the Western counterpart 

(Mälksoo 2009: 655).  

 

The rewriting of history after 1991 is part of the redefining of collective identities and 

narratives in post-communist societies such as Estonia. The different ways of describing 

or commemorating the Second World War is one of them. In Russia the war is 

remembered as the Great Patriotic War whereby the Soviet Union liberated Europe from 

fascism. For Western Europeans it may be difficult to understand the discrepancies in 



 

 

35 

celebrating versus mourning the end of the Second World War that takes place every 

year in what is now the post-communist bloc.  

 

While Putin-era Russian elites internalize the war as the triumphal foundational 

myth of the new Russia, the same war represents traumatic occupation and loss 

of national identity for the Estonian post-communist narrative. (Kattago 2012: 

89) 

 

Some former Soviet or post-communist countries embrace their geographical position 

on the border between the East and the West, and make the most of that position both in 

national narratives and in touristic campaigns: “the idea of being located at the 

crossroads of East and West” (Kaneva & Popescu 2011, 199).  Estonia often shuns that 

position even if it has historically been given that position on numerous occasions. 

 

In his speech to the nation on the 20
th

 anniversary of the 1991 Independence Estonia’s 

President Mr. Ilves expressed the position of Estonia:  

 

Our goal was to integrate, and to be integrated – within our borders and with 

respect to Europe – the Europe that the Young Estonia movement dreamed of a 

century ago - - In the grand scheme of things, in the large tapestry of the 

Estonian story, we have closed one chapter, the one that started in 1991, when 

we emerged from the valley of shadow. This chapter can truly be considered 

closed. Perhaps not just a chapter, but a volume, epic, an odyssey, entitled “The 

Return”. And our tomorrows shine with hope. - - We have access to all of 

Europe now, and as Europeans, the overwhelming majority of the world is 

open to us. (The President of the Republic of Estonia 2011) 

 

It was Estonia’s return to the West, along with the unquenched spirit of the Estonians 

that made the following possible: 

 

Tiger Leap, Skype, the digital prescription, the e-police and e-tax and customs 

board, as well as the X-Road's database environment are studied or copied by 

countries across Europe and even further. (The President of the Republic of 

Estonia 2013)  

 

 



 

 

36 

As far as the official and contemporary narrative goes, Mr. Ilves declares Estonia’s 

mission accomplished: Estonia has returned to Europe. In changing its national 

currency, the Estonian mark, for the euro, the Estonians gave up some of the 

independence, but gained an even stronger bond with (Western) Europe. 

 

Good people of Estonia. This time, the beginning of the New Year is different. 

In a few seconds, the euro will become the currency in Estonia – the currency 

that is used by most European countries. (The President of the Republic of 

Estonia 2010b) 

 

The Western world and its nations have changed dramatically since Benedict Anderson 

first published his Imagined Communities in 1983, which is not to say that Anderson’s 

concept of the ‘imagined community’ is no longer relevant or applicable. President Ilves 

makes clever use of the idea in his Independence Day speech in February 2011: 

 

Today, on the birthday of the Estonian state, let us talk about you and me, and 

our neighbours, relatives and co-workers. Let us talk about all people in 

Estonia, people we may not know personally but whose common threads run 

side by side, uninterrupted, like the striped patterns of Estonian folk costumes. 

They run together, as one fabric, on the loom of fate. (The President of the 

Republic of Estonia 2011) 

 

However, in an increasingly globalized world, and in a post-Soviet context, in 

particular, there are additional aspects worth considering in the narration of a nation, 

such as Estonia. In his article “Is the Post- in Postcolonial the Post in Post-Soviet?” 

(2006) David Chioni Moore asks whether the descriptions of post-colonialism that are 

applied to Africa might be used for describing “the giant crescent from Estonia to 

Kazakhstan” (Moore 2006: 17). In this first anthology concerned with postcolonial 

studies in the Baltic Postcolonialism and its Critics, David Chioni Moore confesses to 

being struck by the silence on the subject of post-colonialism both by the Western 

postcolonial studies and the many scholars that specialize in post-Soviet studies (Moore 

2006: 17). Violeta Keletras argues that part of the problem of not wanting to recognize 

post-colonialism as an issue in Baltic studies was psychological. 

 



 

 

37 

Preferring to think of themselves as superior to other colonized peoples, the 

Balts find being lumped together with the rest of colonized humanity 

unflattering, if not humiliating, and want to be with the civilized part of the 

world. (Kelertas 2006: 4) 

 

In his speech on the Independence Day 2011 (quoted on the previous page) Mr. Ilves 

talks about the lives of Estonians running parallel like the threads in the folk costume 

the President himself always wears on national holidays. These threads are unique 

because they are part of the Estonian pattern, not the Soviet-Estonian, or the post-Soviet 

pattern. While the loom of fate has not always run smoothly for Estonians, there now 

seems to be a conscious effort on part of the institutional narrative to omit the bumpier 

parts of the story. 

 

 

3.2 Narrative of Modernity: Lynx and Skype 

 

Picture 2. Illustration from Where Medieval Meets Modern. 

 

 

In the institutional, or official, narratives of Estonia the theme of modernity and 

repeated again and again. Even if nature – and the land/soil – has always been an 

important factor in traditional Estonian narrative it mostly takes the backseat in the 

contemporary ones. The brochure Where Medieval Meets Modern (MMM 2010) is one 

exception. 

 

Estonia is a country of contrasts. Such pristine and untouched nature is found 

only in s few places in Europe. A few hundred meters off the highway you can 

find yourself in virgin forest, where wolves, bears, and lynx roam free. A large 



 

 

38 

proportion of our nation’s land is designated as natural protection areas. At the 

same time, Estonia is on the vanguard of technological development. We 

invented the world famous free internet telephone service, Skype. Wireless 

internet is available even on buses and trains. On small farms deep in the forest 

news of the world arrives via internet, there is no need to drive to town to buy 

the newspaper. (MMM 2010: 2) 

 

The quote above is from a chapter titled “Estonia – WIFI in the Forest” of the 

Estonian Tourist Board’s said brochure. The allusion to wild prey is perhaps not the 

most successful, considering common misconceptions and stereotypical images of 

polar bears roaming the streets of cities located in the North. But lynx and boar make 

an exciting contrast to modern amenities like WIFI and Skype. The text above is 

accompanied by a photograph of a young woman surfing on her MacBook while 

sitting on a bale of hay. Presumably she is to be congratulated, because while 

enjoying her time in the refreshing countryside and nature, she will not have to 

endure a single moment of it offline. If we are to believe official Estonian narratives, 

this young woman lives in one of the most technologically advanced Western 

countries in the world. And the brochure assures the reader that should a visitor to 

Estonia lose the sense of time during the visit she or he should simply “open your 

laptop on the sauna bench and review your return ticket” (MMM 2010: 15) 

 

The same narrative of modernity and advance is picked up and expanded on by 

journalists and reporters covering Estonia for Tallinn’s status as European Capital of 

Culture in 2011. Regardless of the fact that many inhabitants in the most far-off 

countryside do not yet enjoy the modern blessings of electricity or indoor plumbing, 

and that the poor pensioners hardly own computers, the digital success narrative is 

repeated again and again. 

 

Estonia guarantees its citizens internet access by law. The people of Tallinn 

regularly buy their parking tickets by SMS; the local public transport is well 

organized: tax returns can be completed in half an hour on the phone computer; 

and doctor’s prescriptions are posted online and printed out at home. And 

obviously, the Estonians also vote electronically. (Bisping 2011: 85) 

 



 

 

39 

The authentic and the natural are set against the latest technology, and the medieval 

against the modern for maximum effect. On the cover of MMM what seems like a 

young happy modern couple are enjoying espressos while watching something on a 

laptop. Their location is Katariina käik, one of the most picturesque spots in old town 

Tallinn and one of the most photographed by tourists. On a closer look, the young 

man is wearing the armour of a medieval knight. Modern meets medieval in the most 

literal of fashions. 

 

In their article on Romanian and Bulgarian national branding, Kaneva & Popescu 

(2011: 201) describe the current national branding narratives of the post-communist 

countries as “vacillating between an idyllic, folkloric, pre-modern past and a glitzy, 

luxurious, modern future. The lynx are notoriously difficult to spot and boar can be 

dangerous. In all likelihood few visitors to Estonia would want to meet them, save for 

in the Tallinn Zoo. Yet, the juxtaposition of an authentic and natural setting where 

wildlife can roam free with the urban capital with all its modern conveniences makes 

for a good story. 

 

In the years 1993-1994, Sigrid Rausing did fieldwork in north-western Estonia for her 

doctoral thesis History, Memory, and Identity in Post-Soviet Estonia (2004). She writes:  

 

For the Estonians, the North European identity did not signify ‘the other’ into 

which, for better or worse, they were emerging. Rather, they saw it as 

representing their own inner core, which had been denied its natural and 

normal expressions and development during the Soviet rule. (Rausing 2004: 

38) 

 

Being Estonian was being a Westerner, at least, in the comparison with Soviet Russians. 

Rausing (2004: 38) continues: “In the early 1990s the identity of Estonians shifted: as 

the country moved from the edges of the East to the edges of the West, the identity of 

the people changed from that of being Westerners in the East to being Easterners in the 

West”. 

 



 

 

40 

Close to fifteen years after Sigrid Rausing did her fieldwork in Noarootsi and ten years 

after years after Return to the Western World was published, Estonia and the Estonians 

still seem not to be entirely confident that they are fully integrated into Europe. Under 

the heading “Background: The Dream of Europe – Quality of Life” and sub-heading 

“Back to Europe”, the team behind the City of Tallinn’s the application for European 

Capital of Culture wrote in 2007:  

 

As a candidate for the European Capital of Culture 2011, Tallinn and Estonia 

have the potential to return to the European cultural map as full members, 

forming a new European identity. (Tarand 2007: 25) 

 

Perhaps Estonia has been placed on – or returned to – the geopolitical map of Europe, 

but there still are shadows of the past casting a doubt on how well this has succeeded in 

the eyes of other European countries.   

 

The dream of Europe and the ambiguity in the self-identification can be seen on many 

different levels. On is in the need to define what one is not, as seen in the discussion in 

chapter 3.1.  

 

 

3.3 Narrative of Myths: Fairy Tale Tallinn 

 

Picture 3. Waitress dressed in medieval garb in Old Town, Tallinn. 

 

 



 

 

41 

As the narratives of freedom and modernity the narrative of myth is surprisingly urban. 

In every town around the Baltic See that claims a Hanseatic heritage, the visitor is met 

by people dressed in ‘medieval’ attire urging you to try their attraction, whether it be 

food, drink, an experience or an exhibition. Tallinn is, naturally, no exception. When 

fifteen years ago there was one single medieval themed restaurant in Old Town, there 

are now dozens. Roasted almonds medieval style and mulled wine is sold on every 

street corner. The visitor may buy her or his own pointed shoes or a leather hose. There 

is an exhibition of medieval torture equipment and possibilities to try one’s hand at 

archery and so forth. The narrative of the medieval and mythical is of a recent date. 

 

Tallinn’s Old Town was added to the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites in 1997. 

Despite suffering heavy bombing in 1944, the Old Town survived the Soviet era more 

or less intact.  

 

The Historic Centre (Old Town) of Tallinn is an exceptionally complete and 

well-preserved medieval northern European trading city on the coast of the 

Baltic Sea. The city developed as a significant centre of the Hanseatic League 

during the major period of activity of this great trading organization in the 

13th-16th centuries. (UNESCO 2014) 

 

In 2007 Estonia made an official application to the European Commission for the status 

of Capital of Culture for 2011. In a relatively short period of time since its 1991 

independence Estonia had managed to become a member of NATO, join the European 

Union and was also on the waiting list to join the European Monetary Union
2
. To 

showcase its capital to all of Europe and the world would permanently put Estonia on 

the conscious map of Western, cultured countries. 

 

Balancing the image of a West European country, the medieval and the modern that 

Estonia wanted to present to its visitors with the expectations and preconceptions of 

the same visitors is not an easy task. However, the team behind the 2007 application, 

Everlasting Fairytale cannot be accused of not trying. They write: 

                                                 
2
 Estonia even won the European Song Contest in 2001, truly a sign of membership in the European 

family. 



 

 

42 

Tallinn is seen as an exciting destination city, and many people come here on a 

journey to discover without really knowing much about what it is they have 

come to see. It should not be seen as just another city among so many others, 

but as something absolutely unique and fabulous. Metaphorically speaking the 

fairy tale image is the best way to picture Tallinn, the city that makes 

everything possible and exciting, and where visitors usually experience a 

happy ending to their journey. Outside our everyday concerns, and problems, 

there is a fairy tale place called Tallinn that will help make people’s dreams 

come true and provide them with a getaway destination. (Tarand 2007: 73) 

 

The medieval era was not necessarily a period of romance or affluence – including the 

good food, mulled drinks and velvety clothes – for the majority of the population in 

Tallinn, or elsewhere. By focusing on the glossier or more commercially presentable 

version there is a risk that the visitor ends up with only a ‘medieval light’ version of 

history.  

 

Tallinn, the city that is forever young and old, pairing modern and ancient 

cityscapes. The glass facades of high rise hotels, banking and commercial 

buildings reflect the towering spires of tiny churches and grand crowns of old 

linden trees. (Welcome to Estonia) 

 

The narrative of the modern and the mythical is repeated over and over again. In 

addition, the narrative of the ‘non-Eastern’ is echoed in the article of a commercial 

travel magazine GEO, whose reporter has no doubt been the object of an intense charm 

and information campaign by the Estonian tourist authorities:  

 

Almost everybody in Tallinn speaks English, just as in Scandinavia – a region 

with which the residents of the capital feel more closely connected with than 

Eastern Europe. (Bisping 2011: 83-85) 

 

On the eve of the Capital of Culture year the President sums up the wishes for Estonia 

and points out the uniqueness of Estonian culture. It is European culture that supports 

the Estonian nation, and vice versa: 

 

In a moment, Tallinn will receive the title of Cultural Capital of Europe. I do 

hope that we will use this opportunity to become more cultural and European, 

within ourselves. That we will realize how culture is supporting us, not vice 

versa. That our top orchestras and conductors and writers and museums and 



 

 

43 

more are invaluable. Without them there would be no Estonia, but rather 

something completely different. (The President of the Republic of Estonia 

2010b)  

 

 

3.4 Summary: Narrating the Nation in a Post-Modern World 

 

Interestingly, there is nothing particularly novel about the concept of branding 

the nation. Only the word ‘brand’ is new. National image, national identity, 

[and] national reputation are all words traditionally used and they don’t seem to 

provoke the same visceral hostility as the word ‘brand’. Although the 

technologies are new and infinitely more powerful and pervasive than ever 

before, and the word ‘brand’ is also new, the concepts which it encompasses 

are as old as the nation itself. (Olins 2003) 

 

As mentioned in Chapter one, narrating the nation in a global and post-modern context 

seems to increasingly take the form of branding the nation. Nation branding has been 

defined as “the self-conscious activities by which governments aim to produce a certain 

image of a nation, and is a relatively new phenomenon” (Bolin & Ståhlberg 2010: 82). 

Nation branding should not be confused with public diplomacy, which refers to the 

activities a government undertakes to promote the image of the nation-state and is the 

expression of political power an relations (Bolin & Ståhlberg 2010: 82). However, the 

borders between the two are becoming blurred. Materials such as brochures and 

websites are as widely used for marketing and selling a product as they are for selling 

the nation, whether as an experience or as a commodity, such as a new place to visit. In 

the case of Estonia, Stanislav Budnitskiy (2012) observes in his MA Thesis, that 

manifestations of Estonia’s nation branding are very diverse and numerous (Budnitskiy 

2012: 70). Moreover, Morgan & Pritchard (2004) claim that: 

 

The battle for consumers in tomorrow’s destination marketplace will be fought 

not over price but over hearts and minds, and this is how places have moved 

into territories previously reserved for consumer brands. (Morgan & Pritchard 

2004: 61) 

 

If a country must sell itself on the increasingly competitive global market, could it not 

then be argued that it is both psychologically easier and economically wiser, for a 



 

 

44 

country like Estonia, to choose to feature and sell its modern present, instead of 

displaying an ambiguous past? The nation is not, after all, sold and branded with its 

citizens in mind. Bolin & Ståhlberg (2010: 97) aptly warn us: “it should be a disturbing 

fact that powerful images of nations are produced for the market and not for ‘the 

people’”. 

 

Kaneva & Popescu (2011: 191) also discuss the limits of national branding and the 

(negative) consequences of ‘badly’ executed branding: “this appropriation constrains 

national imaginaries with ahistorical, depoliticized frame resulting in a form of national 

identity lite”. The concept of a national narrative as ‘light’ will be further discussed in 

chapter 4.3 Post-Soviet Light?, as well as in the Conclusion. 

 

Estonia is a relatively young nation, and is still in the process of creating its national 

narrative. What, and whom, should it include or exclude? The national narrative is 

needed to unify the imagined community that Estonia is – or should be – to its citizens. 

At the same time, a national narrative is needed in order to show to outsiders what 

Estonia has been, is, and will be in the future. Introducing the blurring between national 

narratives and the commercialised activities of nation branding into the equation does 

not make the process easier. Bolin & Ståhlberg argue that the traditional nationalistic 

rhetoric was directed towards a domestic audience with the purpose of unifying and 

building social solidarity. The new nationalistic rhetoric, on the other hand, seems to be 

directed towards an international audience of investors. At the same time, the old 

rhetoric can be used as a resource to address foreign tourists. (Bolin & Ståhlberg 2010: 

80.) I agree with this assessment. However, one should keep in mind that nations are 

people with individual histories, and tourists are people with histories, as well. And 

people do not always behave according to consumerist analysis. 

 

The entire image of the nation can end up being the “lite” version of itself if one is not 

careful (Kaneva & Popescu 2011). 



 

 

45 

4 A STRANGE NORTHERN COUNTRY 

 

This chapter presents and analyses the contemporary unofficial or outsider narratives of 

Estonia that I have chosen for this thesis.  

 

The official Estonian narratives’ themes of freedom, modernity, and myth are also to 

some extent found in the outsider narratives. However, there are other themes that 

emerge more strongly, namely those of adventure, oddity, and otherness. While the 

official narratives of Estonia use for example progress through modernity, the purity 

and calm of nature, and a captivating historic past to describe the nation, the unofficial 

ones do it through discussions on anomaly, mediocre food, and the not-so-distant Soviet 

past, among other themes. Running throughout the narratives is the positioning of 

Estonia in the east, in Eastern Europe, or on the periphery of the Western world. 

 

 

4.1 Narrative of Adventure: In the Land of the Meat-Jelly Eaters 

 

Justin Petrone is a journalist, columnist, and the author of three books on Estonia to date 

as well as a popular blogger. Petrone’s blog Itching for Eestimaa (2005-2013) is 

subtiteled “a blog about the only post-communist nordic country”. His latest blog is 

titeled North! (2013 until present). All-in-all the American-Italian Petrone has spent 

over a decade living in and writing about his new homeland Estonia. The results is a 

vast collection of stories about life in Estonia seen through the eyes of a foreigner. 

Although published in 2009, My Estonia: Passport Forgery, Meat Jelly Eaters, and 

Other Stories tells the story of Petrone’s first whimsical experiences in 2002-2003 of 

the country he calls “the least fortunate Scandinavian country” (Petrone 2009: back 

cover). 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

46 

Picture 4. Travel books on Estonia and the Baltics: My Estonia in front. 

 

 

For Justin Petrone, the narrative of both adventure as well as oddity starts even before 

he has moved to Estonia to join his future wife in her native country. Petrone himself 

tells the story of how, to Americans, travel to Estonia is an exotic and one-time 

adventure. 

 

The same day I left Tallinn a month and a half previously, I had arrived back in 

JFK Airport in New York to be delivered by my parents to an Italian restaurant 

where I was quizzed about my trip. My father assured me that I would 

remember the faces of Epp the Estonian, Jevgeni the Russian, and Mitch the 

Canadian for the rest for the rest of my life. The way they made it sound, the 

adventure had now passed and real life had resumed in New York. From his 

perspective, I would soon find employment nearby, after that, perhaps in time, 

with my parents’ approval, a spouse from the neighborhood, too. Then would 

come children, and after even more time, death and burial. To me, it seemed as 

if my obituary had already been written. Perhaps it would even include a 

sentence about my inclusion in the Finnish foreign correspondents’ program. 

My mother meanwhile was still concerned about my visit to a former Soviet 

country. “Do you know where he’s been?” she asked the teenage waitress at 

the restaurant, who probably had no idea where Estonia was. “No. Where?” 

“Estonia!” my mother said, as if it was synonymous with “Somalia”. (Petrone 

2009: 49-50) 

 

Justin Petrone had a hard time convincing his parents that Estonia was a safe or smart 

place to visit – and eventually to make his home. The same suspicions can been 

detected in the comments Ronald Seth received upon setting out for his journey to the 

Baltics in the late 1930s:  

 

When people learnt that I was going to Estonia, some said: ‘Good Lord! Where 

on earth is that?’ Others: ‘Somewhere in the Balkans, isn’t it? I have heard of it 



 

 

47 

once or twice.’ Yet others: ‘Ah, yes, Russia. But won’t it be dreadful there? 

One hears such terrible stories about the conditions, and some of them must be 

true. They haven’t even got enough to eat!’ All of which demonstrates how 

appallingly low the standard of geographical knowledge is among English-

speaking people. (Seth 1939: 1) 

 

It is almost as if the representations of Estonia – that far-away land on the outskirts of 

Europe – have not changed in 70 years between the publication of the two accounts. 

Yet, these, and other, adventurous men have braved the judgements of others and faced 

potential danger in order to see for themselves what kind of place Estonia is. 

 

Before actually moving to Estonia Petrone first travels with his then girlfriend Epp 

around Europe. This is where the passport forgery of the book’s title is explained to us. 

Some of the Estonians make their living faking and selling passports to people desperate 

to get into the European Union. The first Estonians he meets are some of these passport 

forgers. Even if Petrone does not support this criminal activity – it makes for a catchy 

title – he, nevertheless, manages to reinforce the stereotypes of Eastern Europeans. At 

least the stereotypical image that right-wing politicians in ‘old’ Europe like to use when 

describing the possible threats from citizens of all the new member nations. Namely, 

that they will take advantage of the open borders of the European Union and commit 

crimes. 

 

In his book Petrone tells the tale of how he fell in love with both an Estonian woman 

and her country. He gives us exactly what both the title and the cover promise: short 

stories of how a foreigner survives in that unfortunate country and makes it his own. 

Both Estonians and non-Estonians can laugh at the mishaps and misunderstandings of 

Petrone’s early days in the country, even when he explicitly or inadvertently makes fun 

of Estonia and Estonians. Love admittedly makes people try things they would 

otherwise perhaps not dare to. The narrative of Petrone’s first years of adventure, 

including his encounters with depressingly long winters and nearly inedible food, is told 

by a man who is willing to sacrifice many comforts for the love of his life.  

 

Some people told me this book is romantic and maybe it is: a young American 

falls in love with an intriguing Estonian journalist and embarks on a journey 



 

 

48 

that restores his faith in himself and the world. I agree. It is romantic. But it 

was never easy. A foreigner arrives in the middle of a dark winter and must 

survive in Estonia, the least fortunate Scandinavian country, a land where 

people eat blood sausage and jellied meat, drink warm bread, and are always 

on time; a place where every family is haunted by the past and is struggling to 

catch up to the present. (Petrone 2009: back cover) 

 

Justin Petrone first came to be acquainted with both Estonia, and his wife-to-be, during 

an international course for journalist students in Finland in 2002. Such courses and 

exchanges are regularly organized by foreign relations departments, presumably with 

hope of building a positive image of the country. Although, well-known in the Western 

hemisphere, Finland certainly shares Estonia’s conundrum of how to rise above the 

news threshold internationally. Thus, the existence of courses and programmes designed 

to promote all aspects of Finnish society. At the same time, Finns have not always 

themselves given much favourable attention to their neighbour in the south. Estonian 

politicians and officials constantly complain of the dismissive, or at best, negative views 

of the country in foreign media. In 1997 Pertti Suhonen writes on the topic of “Finnish 

Views on Estonia and Other Neighbors” and states that “negative matters receive a 

disproportionate amount of attention, which is attributable to the traditional news 

criteria of Western journalism” (Suhonen 1997: 186). There used to be a tendency in 

Finnish media to identify Estonians with Russians or with the Soviet tradition. 

According to Suhonen, the Finnish media and public did not necessarily make the 

distinction between St. Petersburg and Tallinn (Suhonen 1997: 186-187). In the past 

fifteen years perhaps some of this incapacity to differentiate between Estonia and 

(Soviet) Russia has disappeared. However, there is still a tendency on the part of foreign 

media in general to interpret and narrate Estonia through the lens of post-communism. 

Justin Petrone also succumbs to this at times. 

 

As already pointed out, Petrone writes that he arrives in Estonia in the middle of darkest 

winter and must make his home in an “unfortunate country” (Petrone 2009: back cover). 

The stereotypical image of Eastern Europe as a film played in black and white is here 

extended to include Scandinavia: “There were just grey people walking over black ice” 

(Petrone 2009: 83). However, it turns out that Petrone’s most serious problem is not the 

darkness or the potential isolation. 



 

 

49 

When most people think about adjusting to life in a northern country during the 

winter, they think about being depressed by the dark and the cold and turning 

to alcohol for relief. But it wasn’t the weather that starved me of joy in Estonia; 

it was the awful food. (Petrone 2009: 102) 

 

Food is an essential part of most national identities and therefore also written into the 

narratives of a nation. As illustrated in the old joke quoted previously in chapter 2.2.3, 

stereotypes can display both negative and positive traits of for example a country’s