The trek across Eastern Europe to
find David Cameron’s Nazi-loving friends came to a wholly
unsatisfactory conclusion yesterday. It turns out they are
just a bunch of sweeties.
Instead of inhabiting a dimly lit
beer cellar echoing to the sound of steel-studded jackboots,
the headquarters of the Fatherland and Freedom Party is about
as menacing as a maternity ward.
Their three-room apartment is right
next to the best hot-chocolate shop in Riga, the 100-year-old
Café Kuze, and that’s where you go if you want to talk about
new alignments in the European Parliament.
“Hi,” says a chubby man in a Hawaiian
shirt. “We’re the Tories of Latvia.”
Perhaps the party used the same line
when they met William Hague in London in March. Certainly
the party, which has served in Latvian coalition governments
for the best part of eight years, seemed a plausible enough
member of the Gang of Seven, the Conservative and Nationalist
Parties that make up the newly minted European Conservatives
and Reformists Group in Strasbourg.
This was to be Mr Cameron’s first
roll of the European dice, his way of demonstrating that
he was not going to be a pushover in matters of deeper EU
integration. Somehow though the grouping has come to resemble
the cocktail party from Hell: in one corner there are breakaway
Belgians, in another homophobic Poles, a sprinkling of Bulgarians,
some fully clothed Czechs — and yes, sure enough, supposedly
Nazi-sympathising Latvians.
“I don’t know where all that Nazi
stuff comes from,” says Janis Tomels, 39, the international
co-ordinator of the party. Actually, there is in the view
of the Western press and experienced Nazi-hunters such as
Efraim Zuroff of the Simon Wiesenthal Centre, a pretty simple
explanation.
The Fatherland and Freedom Party supports
a march every year of veterans of the Latvian Legion from
the tall Freedom Monument in Riga to the cathedral. In the
past they have worn their old uniforms.
I visited an old legionnaire officer
and he proudly opened a cupboard to show me his mothballed
uniform — complete with the distinctive runes of the Waffen
SS, for the legion had been incorporated into Hitler’s army
in 1943. “We weren’t fighting for him,” said the former colonel,
“but against the Soviets.”
The legion was a ragbag of soldiers
and they included, among the well-trained and disciplined
infantry and grenadiers, some members of the Arajs gang,
Latvians who had either personally killed hundreds of Jews
or who had helped the Germans to carry out the massacres.
About 80,000 Latvian Jews lost their lives in the war.
“We have submitted the names of 13
suspects who deserve serious investigation,” says Dr Zuroff.
“So far there has been no sign of the Latvian state prosecutor
taking up the cases.”
The problem, then, is whether a party
remains a credible ally of the Conservatives as long as it
glorifies the legion. How tainted are the war heroes of the
Baltic, and how modern are the East European parties that
present themselves as Conservative allies in the European
Parliament?
Latvian politicians across the spectrum
condemn the Arajs killers and hail the rest of the legion
as patriots. The slaughtering of the Latvian Jews occurred,
they say, on German orders and was conducted before the legion
was set up. There can, therefore, be no collective guilt
for the legionnaires. In 1950 the US declared: “The Waffen
SS units of the Baltic states are to be seen as units that
stood apart and were different from the German SS in terms
of goals, ideologies, operations and constitution.”
“That is why the American and the
then Labour Government in Britain allowed surviving conscripts
to settle in Britain and the US as political refugees after
the war,” says Roberts Zile, who represents the Fatherland
and Freedom Party in Strasbourg.
Gunta Sloga, political correspondent
for the liberal Diena newspaper, said: “My grandfather wriggled
out of serving for the Soviets, was conscripted by the Germans
and after doing time in an Allied PoW camp, he returned home
in 1947. I should have the right to commemorate him — and
just about every Latvian is in a similar situation.”
One supporter of the veterans’ march
is a former European Commissioner, Sandra Kalniete. Her family
was deported to Siberia where she was born in 1952: she lost
three of her grandparents in the enforced exile. Paying tribute
to the legion, she says, is not a way of denigrating the
Holocaust but simply acknowledging a historical truth.
The problem is mainly about how Latvia
should deal with the Russians. Altogether the European Union
has almost a million Russians living within its borders and
many of them are unhappy.
It is only a matter of time, say analysts
in Riga, before the Kremlin tries to put pressure on the
Baltic states to be nicer to them.
Mr Tomels says: “If the Russians don’t
like it here, they are free to leave.” And a chill enters
the voice of Mr Cameron’s man in Riga.
timesonline.co.uk
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