The Singing Revolution: Tallinn, Estonia

After two days packed with guided shore excursions, we welcomed the leisurely half day in the walled medieval city of Tallinn, Estonia. We walked into town from the ship. It took about a half hour. The village was asleep when we arrived early in the morning, but once inside the walls, we were immediately charmed.





We found some lovely viewing points from the top, but we eventually headed back to the town square, where a crafts fare was scheduled for that day. We bought some souvenirs, and then we settled into chairs at one of the sidewalk cafes on the perimeter of the large square where the booths had set up.




I had a local beer, Saku, which had a rich flavor and nice finish, while Julie’s Coca Cola Light, Amy’s hot chocolate and Jay’s Pear Cider were all just what they wanted, too. While it certainly wasn’t anything particularly earth shattering, it was certainly relaxing.





We saw a few street musicians, but nothing to indicate the degree to which I learned Estonians love to sing. There’s an outdoor venue on the outskirts of Tallinn that has room for 20,000 singers on stage, which I’m sure would interest Miss Gold, Mrs. Robinson and Mr. Hayden, Amy’s excellent choir teachers in middle school and high school. There’s also room for 300,000 spectators in the audience. It was a gathering spot for the singing revolution.



As we celebrate the 40th anniversary of the counter culture “revolution” that was Woodstock today in America, you might find it of interest to learn about another musical revolution: the Singing Revolution of Estonia.



Occupied since the middle of World War II, Estonia was a satellite of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

Long haired kids at Woodstock could flip off the government without fear of retribution, as long as they didn’t follow the violent path of radicals like Bill Ayers, Bernardine Dohrn and the other Students for a Democratic Society.

Teenagers like my friend Pete and I wore black arm bands to protest the Vietnam War without really contemplating any immediate or long term consequences.






Even the rational voice of America, Walter Cronkite, said the war could not be won, and that certainly is the message we heard loud and clear at school. We could all flash the peace sign and gain immediate acceptance from everyone in tie-dye, denim and headbands. As Pete, who enlisted in the Army in 1970, might say, it was a good way to meet girls.













On the other hand, Estonia was ruled under an atmosphere of fear, where free speech was prohibited. They didn’t burn their Estonian flags. They were prohibited from owning them.









They didn’t trip out to Jimi Hendrix playing an electric guitar riff on their national anthem; they were prohibited from playing or singing it. If they spoke up, their families would probably miss them but be too afraid to dig into what happened. No, Estonia was a completely different world from upstate New York.







At a series of concerts starting in 1988, performers on stage sang banned patriotic songs of Estonia, and the crowds joined in. On September 11 of that same year, at the Song of Estonia Music Festival, 20,000 singers took the stage at the Tallinn Song Festival Arena and led a crowd of 300,000, about a fourth of the entire population of Estonia, in singing patriotic songs, including their national anthem which hadn’t been sung in public since 1940.









A rock drummer rode around the arena on a motorcycle hoisting the banned blue, black and white flag of Estonia. It bolstered their political will, and they carried on this singing revolution at different events until 1991, when Soviet tanks arrived for the final clampdown on this uprising.













Estonians locked arms together to make a human shield to stop the tanks from destroying their TV and radio stations, and the tanks backed down. Estonia declared its independence in August of 1991, and they are a free nation still today.







The friendly shop keepers obviously depend on tourism for their livelihoods, and the cruise ships are happy to accommodate them, staggering their arrival times so as not to overflow the beautiful village. If you go into the medieval walled city, you’ll be offered some free samples of sugar roasted nuts, which are delicious.







However, some people undoubtedly get waylaid at the little shopping area about halfway between the ship and the old town.




In addition to lots of souvenirs, there’s also an Octoberfest-like attic with cheap beer in large mugs, although I only know that because we stopped for a bathroom break. Anyway, Tallinn is a town worth supporting.