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LiteratureasaNationsEmotionalMemory

LiteratureasaNationsEmotionalMemory

byJriTalvet

Source:Interlitteraria(Interlitteraria),issue:03/1998,pages:122135,onwww.ceeol.com.

Literature as a Nations Emotional Memory

JRI TALVET

In some of my previous writings I have tried to call attention to theevaluative shift in the interpretation by Yuri Lotman of the funda-mental cultural codes he himself has proposed, (cf. Talvet 1994/1995, 1997), namely of what he defines in his early work as thesyntagmatic and the paradigmatic (or symbolic) code.1

Whereas in 1977 Lotman speaks of culture as collective in-tellect and collective reason which is identical with collec-tive memory and still reiterates it as late as in 1988 (Lotman1977, 1988, 1992), in 1984, on the other hand, he launches the no-tion of the semiosphere (Lotman 1984, 1992) which seems tocover a much wider area than culture. The main obsession inLotmans late writings was to explain the functioning of irregular,unpredicted, explosive changes in the semiosphere and, even espe-cially those ocurring on the borders and in the peripheries ofthe semiosphere, i.e., in the domain where the syntagmatic orrational links traditionally fail to function.

I suppose this shift of focusing has not only to do with Lot-mans individual existential experience, but also with the begin-ning of the transition of the Eastern block closed semiosphere tothe open Western type liberal semiosphere. This process gra-dually started in the Baltic states the periphery of the Soviet

1 These metaphorized definitions have recently been fruitfully resus-

citated and applied, for instance, to literary and philosophical phe-nomena of the Renaissance (Shakespeare, as related to Montaigne andMachiavelli) and of the Enlightenment and Modernism (the grotesqueaspect in Swift and Vonnegut) by the Italian comparatist GiuseppinaRestivo. Cf. Restivo 1996, 1997.

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empire in the middle of the 80s. On the other hand, supposedlynot only has it to do with the crises of the official Soviet culturalscience which was obvious to Lotman and his school more thana decade earlier , but also, and even particularly, with the crisesin Western cultural science and philosophy.

The latter began to be felt with the ever more outspokenupsurge of postmodern thinking, by way of coincidence, in themiddle of the 80s.

Sadly, Lotman died at the end of 1993. His late legacy, a medi-tation about borders, peripheries, explosions, leaps anddisruptions in the semiosphere, however, is full of actualmeanings for the late years of our millenium. Contrary to whatSamuel Huntington has prognosticated, not only have the traditio-nal borders between the Western Christian world and the Easterncivilizations blurred and merged in many aspects, not only haslite culture under the sign of postmodernism merged with asector of mass culture, but the same phenomenon of blurring isever more evident in the discourses or narratives that try toilluminate or describe different aspects of the universe and humanactivity.

It is ever more difficult to define the borderline between philo-sophy and anthropology, philosophy and semiotics, semiotics andanthropology (cf. Gross 1996), or philosophy, semiotics and anthro-pology, on the one hand, and (comparative) literary research, on theother, while literary research and literature themselves, in thewriting of the late Barthes, of Derrida and their followers isidentified with the equalizing product of criture. The efforts toestablish distinguishing borders like the proposal by Mignolo todefine literary science or theory as literaturology (CceresSnchez 1993: 348) have so far failed. I suppose the introductionof the notion of philosophology would likewise fail.

These changes do not mean simply the widening of inter-disciplinary studies (where the knowledge of different fields ofscience is supposed to offer mutual support), but just merging, theincreasing crisis of self-identification.

Facing the radical changes of our time some, like GeorgeSteiner, predict an almost apocalyptic future (Steiner 1996: 1213),others, like Tzvetan Todorov or Umberto Eco, try to calm us,

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assuring us that the main problem is just the lack of education(Todorov 1992: 30) or finding a common language, another Espe-ranto in which the knowledge of different cultures could be trans-mitted to the new multiracial Europe of the 21st century (see Ecosdeclarations at the Congress of the 3rd Millenium in Valencia, ElPas. 24. I 1997, p. 32). Some, like Hans-Georg Gadamer, insist oncontinuing, whatever the outcome, to penetrate into the other,while for others, like Edward W. Said, this effort would hardly bedistinguished from the previous colonialist and imperialist politicsof the West.

There are only few, like Jrgen Habermas, who in our dayswould dare to draw a kind of a rational panorama, classifying theseattitudes and expectations under spectrums like those of youngconservatives (Derrida, Foucault, and their numerous addicts),pre-modernist, rather rationalist and cautious old conservatives(with whom Habermas himself apparently sympathizes) and post-modern or art-for arts sake new conservatives (Habermas 1996:9192).

What has the above said to do with the emotional memoryand Estonian literature?

I suppose there was only a short leap that separated the lateLotman from reinterpreting his former concept of culture as col-lective intellect. As he admits in his late work, the semiospherepractically cannot meet the non-semiotic world, as the latter, onceit is imagined (from the semiosphere J.T.), becomes also, eventhough superficially, semiotized (Lotman 1993: 375). In otherwords, the semiotic world is one with the non-semiotic world, theworld of culture is one with the world of non-culture, and theworld of intellect is one with the world of non-intellect. The effortsto separate them would be in most cases artificial and simplifying.

Constant transitions between these worlds are part of the greatcosmic transformation. Therefore, to assert that culture is collectiveintellect and, at the same time, collective memory, which means,by a simple transposition that collective intellect is collectivememory and intellect is memory, and vice versa, is scarcely moreexact than to claim that culture is collective creation and creativememory in which emotions, sex, and senses have historically hadthe same weight as intellect or reason.


The complicated interrelation between these phenomena areespecially obvious in socio-geographical or, in a broader sense,semiospheric border areas like Estonia, along with other Balticcountries. Like in all frontier or peripheric cultures, syntag-matic (or rational) structures here have often failed to function,while texts have been born invisibly to the eye of those that try toimpose what they themselves imagine as syntagmatic codes.

Let us mention a few examples, both from the past and our fin-de-sicle.

Under the Russian tzarist regime, the use of the Estonian lan-guage at Estonian elementary schools was for the first timepermitted only in 1905. Until then, Estonian schoolchildren those of the generation of my own grandparents who dared tospeak at school in their native tongue were punished and humi-liated by Russian authorities. Even though books and regular news-papers began to appear in Estonian much earlier, the normalfunctioning of ethnic culture was for a long time curbed andsuppressed.

In these conditions where national literature itself was still in itsvery initial stage, Estonian oral folksongs were the principal means(or, the invisible text) that sustained the memory of the nation. Wedo not know exactly where the origins of these songs are, maybe inthe late Middle Ages, maybe in the 18th century, but the fact is thatthere is a huge body of Estonian (as well as Latvian) folksongs thathas reached our days, in a great variety of regional subtypes.

It is also known that the main authors of this anonymousbody of folksongs were peasant women. The songs were predomi-nantly lyrical and emotional in contrast with those of Scan-dinavian skalds or the male jongleurs, who recited the lineages oftheir kings or great historic events, which in those times werenearly always mens business.

Herder offered some samples of Baltic folksongs in his Volks-lieder (1778/79), while in Estonia the systematic collection andpublishing of regional folksongs started in the second half of the19th century.

It is evident that until the beginning of the 20th century this oralcreativity in the Estonian language was hardly considered by theruling foreigners as an expression of the conscience or culture of a

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nation in Estonia since the ethnic peasant people were for themjust simple folk and never a nation. It is true that under theinfluence of positive sciences the collection and even the publi-cation of old songs were tolerated by the authorities. However,these were supposed to be exotic material from the past, havingmainly historical interest, in the syntagmatic construction of acivilized society by the dominant nations. That ethnic folksongscould become an essential part in the national ethnic awakeningof the Estonians, was never expected nor desired.

The persistence of the emotional memory as a hidden deto-nating force as well as an indispensable factor of a dialogue can be proved by other examples. Now, a century later, we areapproaching another chronocultural border. The tendency to-wards a homogenious market type society is equally strong in allpostcommunist societies, including Estonia. However, traditionalsong festivals an intertext reaching us from the times ofpredominantly oral culture are held almost every year in theEstonian capital Tallinn and other major towns. They bringtogether thousands of singers, wearing national costumes, from allparts of the country.

From the point of view of a thoroughbread postmodernist thiscould be viewed as an awkward anachronism. The direct inter-textuality similar traditions, a century ago, in Germany hasdisappeared. In the Estonian poetry of the second half of the 20thcentury there is hardly any poet who would imitate old folksongsmeters, and the young ladies in Tallinn and other major towns,even in Estonian villages, follow the same fashion trends as theircounterparts in Paris or London.

Maybe this paradoxical phenomenon has to do with the peculiarinner stratification of a border culture. First, to survive, it has tobe both dialogical and polylogical. As soon as it admits fully oneof the dominant centralizing or, in Lotmans terms, syntagmaticstructures, it disappears as an individual culture or conscience. Onthe other hand, as the nations individual cultural development hascovered a relatively short lapse of time in the case of theEstonians, scarcely more than a century the borderlines of thecultural intertextuality are concentrated in an extraordinarilylimited temporal space.


This means that different chronocultural borders cross andintertwine to a far greater extent than this could be in the case ofdominant cultures of bigger nations. Different and even con-tradicting chronocultural codes intermingle. Or, to apply existen-tialist terminology, the predispositions for alienating structures aredefinitely weaker in a small society than in a big society. The pro-portion of the emotional memory, in the reaffirmation of an indi-vidual conscience, may even seem as exaggerated to those alien tothis particular border semiosphere.

The word predisposition was stressed, because any borderculture or border semiosphere exists in a constant state of self-defence, being continuously menaced by the imposition of mono-logical, centralizing and syntagmatic structures both from out-side and inside.

In 1861 Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald, one of the mainfounders of Estonian national literature, published his epic poemKalevipoeg. Strongly influenced by Kalevala, of his Finnishcolleague Elias Lnnrot, Kreutzwald aspired to give the Estonianpeople its true national monument, comparable to the ancient epicsof bigger and older nations.

Scarcely half a century later, in 1912, Kreutzwalds epic wasstrongly criticized by Friedebert Tuglas, at that time a young sym-bolist writer who, however, had already travelled in Italy and Scan-dinavia, had breathed in the modern airs of European naturalismand symbolism and was to become one of the most influencialEstonian literary critics of the 20th century. His main objections toKreutzwald were that Kalevipoeg, in contrast to LnnrotsKalevala, was not so much based on authentic folksongs than onthe authors own imagination; that Kreutzwalds style was eclectic,scientifically incorrect and that he had tried to create an epicwork from basically lyrical material (Tuglas 1959: 124, 126, 127).

Despite Tuglas criticism, some later attempts of freudian inter-pretation of Kalevipoeg and parodic travesties, like that by EnnVetemaa (1971), the fact remains that Kreutzwald still succeededin creating an integral myth of a national hero, Kalevipoeg, whichhas firmly settled in the emotional memory of the Estonians, verymuch like Goethes Faust in German national memory.

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Tuglas criticism can be viewed as a typical conflict of achronocultural code (symbolism, mixed with positivist thinking)with the preceding one (romanticism). Tuglas was devoid of anevaluative distance to locate Kalevipoeg in a wider romantic (andeven symbolist) context. Such a distance would have reaffirmedKreutzwalds work as the last great national-heroic epic of Euro-pean nations. It offers a vigorous symbol of a hero not at alldevoid of defects and contradictions who defends his peopleagainst foreign invaders and the forces of the evil, is finallypunished for his sins (a symbol of a young inexperienced nationfalling under tyranny of mightier invaders), but promises in thefinal scene to return one day and bring liberty to Estonia.

The mixture of the epic text with lyrical elements, quitecontrary to what Tuglas suggested, is the main source ofKreutzwalds individuality and the main asset of the myth, createdby him, in the emotional memory of the nation. In view of theromantic conception of intertextuality, formulated already in thephilosophy of Herder, it would be rather ridiculous to blameKreutzwald for not employing, in the vein of scientific serious-ness, the authentic material of the folksongs. The basic connectionwith the ethnic-poetic tradition is achieved by the rhythm, themetre and abundant alliterative associations.

Contrary to what is generally thought in the shadow of Tuglasspiritual authority, I tend to suggest that the greatness of Kreutz-walds genius lies just in not following the example of Kalevala,i.e. not trying to to imitate the medieval poetic code and create acollective hero (based on a variety of folksong cycles), but in arather loose folkloric intertextuality which supports and neverrestrains the construction of an individual myth, in the true spirit oflate Romantic poetics.

By the way, the persistence of Kreutzwalds myth has justgained renewed evidence, as a witty burlesque play Sranesoolikas (Such Guts) by a talented young Estonian humourist andplaywright, Andrus Kivirhk, has been staged at Prnu Theatre(1997), with the leading figures of the awakening period, Kreutz-wald, Koidula, Jakobson and Jannsen, as the main characters. Theemotional intertext reaching us from the past preserves its stronglyaccentuated ambiguity. The provincial surgeon Kreutzwald


working on Kalevipoeg under the (supposed) tyranny of his wifeand receiving a secret visit by his intimate pen-pal, the dark-haired patriotic poetess Koidula, is turned into a caricature and atthe same time elevated. The play mingles elements of postmoderncamp and ethnic folklore. In the final scene Kreutzwald andKoidula perform a dance on roller skates and, singing, extolliberty.

I have referred above to some of the advantages the relativesmallness of a semiosphere can provide. On the other hand, theobvius disadvantage is that because of the scarcity of relevant lite-rary criticism, a code can easily be extended beyond its historical(and, thus, relative) borders, at the expense of other codes. It isquite natural that the generation headed by Tuglas began toconstruct, at the start of the 20th century, a code differing from thatof Kreutzwald and the national awakening of the 19th century.However, as soon as the new code became overwhelming andacquired a syntagmatic quality, which was supported by Tuglasown (even officially) central position in the Estonian postwarliterature framed by the Soviet marxist theory of realism , itdid not work any more for the openness of the national memory,but rather for its ideologically tendentious closure.

Besides the myth of Kalevipoeg, another example of how,despite the imposition of centralizing syntagmatic structures, theemotional memory of the nation survives in literature, is thepatriotic poetry of Lydia Koidula. Her most famous poems whereshe exalts the ideas of Estonian national liberty and love of hercountry are contained in her first mature collection Emaje bik(The Nightingale of Emajgi), published in 1867. She herselfbecame one of the symbols of the national awakening (herwriters name Koidula is a derivate of the word koit dawn).

During the Soviet postwar period, however, there was someambiguity over her work. Like Kreutzwalds Kalevipoeg, it was inpart accepted by the official ideology (as a symbol of her peoplesnational liberation from the German landlords). Yet the ethnicpatriotism, under the Soviet rule, had its clearcut limits: no hintwas allowed at the desire to have more liberty than the Sovietempire itself provided.

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During those years, at all national song festivals, the presen-tations by choirs of a song based on one of the most famouspatriotic poems of Lydia Koidula, Mu isamaa on minu arm!(My Homeland is My Love!) became the point of a semioticconflict between the emotional memory of the nation and theofficial syntagmatic structures. Singing it could not be entirelyforbidden by the Soviet authorities, but as people at the end of anyfestival would demand to repeat just this song, there was always aconsiderable trouble with the final ceremony and the KGB was puton a constant alert.

Some of Koidulas best patriotic poems are also an example ofhow a poetic intertext can be transformed into an original text,capable of supporting the nations memory. In an essay onKoidula, Tuglas is apparently puzzled by the fact that Koidulasreal poems are almost unknown by the general public, while acouple of poems, supposedly adaptations from the German, havebecome the main signs of Koidulas myth, known to everyEstonian (Tuglas 1959: 212).

Like in the case of Kalevipoeg, the perplexity is once againproduced by the positivist yearning of factual authenticity. At thesame time world literary history abounds in examples of how inter-texts deriving from other semiospheres are recodified into originaltexts capable of transmitting in their own semiosphere muchmore powerful messages than the possible prototexts ever could intheir semiospheres. This concerns especially the texts that havebecome part of the emotional memory of a nation.

To a far greater extent than the work of Kreutzwald andKoidula, the poetry of Juhan Liiv (18641913) falls out of themain poetic current of his time. Liiv, who later came to beconsidered as Estonias most purely lyrical poetic genius, spent thefinal part of his life in the state of mental disorder, in poverty andharrassed by illnesses. However, several of his early lyric poemsand the verses written during his short periods of recovery havebecome firmly rooted in the national memory. Whereas the bulk ofthe syntagmatic poetic pattern consciously constructed by theimmediately following symbolist generation, headed by Tuglas,has faded in time and in the collective memory, some of Liivsshort elliptic poems are known by heart by nearly all Estonians.


Despite their apparent simplicity they transmit an emotion nearlyalways reflecting some essential features of Estonias history andconscience.

In the words of the Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno,this would be the tragic feeling of life of peoples and nations (elsentimiento trgico de la vida). In Estonian, however, the implica-tions are even wider, as the Estonian verb tundma, of what tunne(feeling, sentimiento) is a derivate, does not mean only to feelor sentir, but also to know, conocer.

Though Liivs poems, too, transmitted patriotic feelings, Tuglascould not reproach him for romantic simplicity. Yet Liiv wasalien in his time. He himself was quite conscious of the diffe-rence, as he addressed the official Estonian literary societygiving one of his poems the title Dont Ask Poems of Me andrejecting, in the poem Noor-Eestile (To Young Estonia) thehomage the new literary circle paid him.

One may guess that what made Liiv different was not just anintertextuality from the past. In fact, the latter was extensivelypresent in the work of the early symbolists themselves justbecause of the inevitable closeness of chronocultural borders in asmall cultural space. Liiv introduced rather an intertextuality fromthe future a new pre-existential code which rejected anysyntagmatic mannerism as false and artificial. Not only did Liiv inhis life resemble Hlderlin, from a century earlier, but also in theelliptic, i. e. asyntagmatic, way of expression. Below I shall try totransmit a (rather literal) free verse translation of one of Liivscharacteristic short poems, Tule, pimedus (Come, NightsDarkness), supposedly from the last part of his life an eloquentexample of an unconscious intertext going back to Hlderlinspoem Hlfte des Lebens.

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Tule, pimedus, Come, nights darkness,vta mind slle. take me in your lap.

Minu pike ei tunne mind, My sun doesnt recognize me, jnud mulle. the night is left to me.

Ainust thte sl pole, Theres not a single star,minul on kole. I am in horror.

Varja mu le. Shadow over me.

Finally, as we come to our present day fin-de-sicle codes in Esto-nian literature, a curious similarity can be observed with the situa-tion in the 1920s. With the new liberties after Estonias regainedindependence, a rush of Western philosophical ideas, both from thepast and the present, has hurriedly counterbalanced the absence ofan open philosophical discourse during the Soviet period. In lessthan two years in a new philosophical series fundamental works ofRussell, Mill, Heidegger, Derrida, Seneca, Aristotle, Unamuno,Camus and others have appeared, while the monthly literary orliterary-philosophical magazines Akadeemia, Vikerkaar and Loo-ming compete in holding up a dense philosophical discourse.Estonias own younger philosophical voices can be heard, nowcontinuing the nihilist (or, in Habermas terms, young conserva-tive) line of thinking, now adhering to a more rational position, akind of a new realism.

Indeed, the outward impression would confirm Lotmans theoryof a cultural explosion and a subsequent leap to a new quality.Some of the younger philosophically bent critics (most outspoken-ly, Hasso Krull) have come to speak about the culture of dis-ruption(cf. Krull 1996).

Here I would disagree. Any leap, in my opinion, can onlybecome reality because of the continuity of discourse, even thoughthe latter may be a hidden, invisible or suppressed one, repre-sented not so much by syntagmatic (rational, positivist, intellectual,official) structures, as by the emotional memory. I would evenargue that the discontinuity of culture usually becomes especiallyvisible due to the invisibility of a section of culturescontinuity. Emotion (in the literal meaning, a movement up and


out), suppressed and, thus, condensed in a detonating state, mobi-lizes all creative fasculties into a capability of producing an explo-sion a break-through in the centralizing syntagmatic structures.

However, we should not simplify. Literature has a special mis-sion. It has to fulfil the function of philosophy, as the section ofcultural discourse which always has been closest to verballyexpressed philosophical discourse. At the same time literature canhardly be a purely intellectual discourse. The primary function ofits images is to transmit, along with the mental and intellectual va-lues, the integral fulness of reality, including its emotional, sensual,sexual, telluric, psychological, spiritual, etc. aspects. In otherwords, to transmit and create reality and philosophy as its part not as a mere idea, but in its complicated, sensually graspablebodiness.

While the philosophical or, lets say, intellectual memory was atleast in part crippled during the Soviet period, the philosophicaldiscourse continued to exist in literature as a kind of emotionalmemory. It goes without saying that it had to be skilfully hidden inimages, allusions, ambivalent grotesque and irony the expres-sive means that were prevailingly characteristic of Estonian litera-ture (and other branches of art) at least from the beginning of the1960s. (Cf. on this subject Tootmaa 1997).

Liberal philosophical discourse also reached Estonia via trans-lations (e.g. in the 60s Kafkas Der Prozess and short stories, andin 1972 Camus Le mythe de Sisyphe as well as the first book ofBorges prose were translated) or was read directly in its originallanguage. The new generation of Estonian writers emerging in the1960s was fully aware of existentialism, the literature of theabsurd, the new theatrical experiences, etc. Although the menacingpresence of censorship was always evident, it would be wrong toclaim the absence of philosophical discourse itself, as Yuri Lotmanstarted to publish his influential articles on structural semiotics,while continuing to work until his death at the University of Tartu,as early as in the 1970s.

Last but not least, the main channel of the plurality of dis-courses, including those sustained by the emotional memory, aswell as the main basis for a border polylogue, never disappearedin Estonia. I mean the Estonian language, which despite all efforts

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of Russification and even during the harshest years of stalinismcontinued to function at all schools, universities, the major news-papers and magazines of Estonia.

Yuri Lotman has used on several occasions the notion of de-semiotization. I suppose this is a fundamental process of the se-miosis. Under certain historical or political circumstances somestrata of reality are forgotten, desemiotized. However, I wouldlike to stress that desemiotization is seldom absolute. Even thezero-sign, of what Lotman, too, has spoken, is full of significanceand capable of generating an abundance of new signs. Thus, whilethe intellectual strata of a nations memory is deafened andblinded, emotional memory of what literature is a primaryvehicle lives on, to make both semiosis and dialogue ever-lasting realities.

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Talvet, J. 1994/95. Describir la modernidad: Gracin, Ortega, Lotman. Tropelas, 5/6, (Zaragoza); also in 1997. M. Cceres (ed.), En laesfera semitica lotmaniana. Valencia: Ediciones Episteme.

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