The scale and duration of the post-war resistance movement were surprising and gave hope to many at the time. Somehow, it has come to be that nowadays we talk more about the repressive side of the former regime, not exactly forgetting the fighters against that regime, but paying less attention to them (addressing them more quietly). Why is that?

What does patriotism mean to both of you in 2021?

Inese Dreimane: In 2021... Right now, as we speak, a patriot is sitting next to me; Zigmārs has been involved in the National Guard since his early youth...

Zigmārs Turčinskis: ...from October 1992.

Inese: Patriotism means "to be"! Even if someone thinks it is unnecessary, that it is just a hobby club, that one shouldn't join the National Guard. Patriotism is doing your job honestly, paying taxes—what's more, paying them first and only then going to complain, for example, about why Latvia doesn't have the kind of healthcare we see in American TV series. It is patriotic to speak your native language, to raise your voice when necessary about things you don't like or are unhappy with; to think for yourself, constantly filtering information, and trying to teach the younger generation to do the same.

Young people, who have fortunately grown up without the great nation and the great poster-style equality experienced by their parents, think: "It would be very nice if there were no poor and everyone were happy." What happens next? That is something young people don't know—the ones promising great happiness and declaring a bright future set up a camp on the outskirts of the village or dig a hole for the disobedient nearby.

If someone says to Zigmārs: "Get up, put your boots on, and head to the border!", he will do it. If someone says to both of us: "Trenches must be dug!", we will dig. If it is clear: "We must go to the forest!", those who feel the strength within themselves and understand that they will be more useful in the forest will go there. I will add: you shouldn't just go to the forest for the sake of it, so as not to become an unnecessary, burdensome load for the forest brothers. One can come up with another form of resistance.

You successfully moved to the next question: forest brothers and national partisans. Is there a big difference in what to call them?

Inese: It depends on the place...

Zigmārs: "Forest brothers" (mežabrāļi) is the Latvian term for those people living in the forest with weapons; this word "comes" from the events of 1905. Since the Great Northern War (1700-1721), no major wars had been experienced in our territory and, suddenly, a rebellion had started, there were people fighting the existing power with weapons, they had to be called something, and so the word "forest brothers" caught on. I will add that "forest brothers" refers more to Kurzeme, Zemgale, and Vidzeme, not Latgale. Latgale had a different 1905, and the word "partisans" is used there more often.

Inese: ...which, in turn, has carried over from the Wars of Independence (the Latgale Partisan Regiment). After the end of the war, in the 1920s in Latgale, many people's fathers, older brothers, relatives, or neighbours had fought in this partisan regiment or were somehow associated with it. That is how the word "continued".

Latgale and Kurzeme are two regions where people talk more about post-war resistance or where more is known. Was the fight against the Soviet power more pronounced in these regions, or is it linked to the forest density of the region, or something else? For example, in Zemgale, very little is said about forest brothers.

Zigmārs: The fact that less is said about forest brothers in Zemgale is linked to many circumstances. I agree, Zemgale has wider plains, which is why those who went to the forest at the time chose Kurzeme, Vidzeme, or Sēlija. The small volume of information about the resistance movement in Zemgale is also linked to a shortage of researchers.

After the war, very active forest brother groups operated in Zemgale, based in the forests of Iecava, Garoza, and Zālīte. To put it unscientifically: "Good heavens, what groups were there and what stunts they pulled!" In 1946, to deal with these forest brothers, an NKVD battalion was stationed in Iecava, which fought specifically against the resistance groups in the nearby forests; they operated in this area until about 1950, and the groups' activities were also broader—the forest brothers even went to Riga. As far as I know, there were several attacks on Riga financial institutions in search of funds. Once at the Riga Central Station, the forest brothers shot dead a Cheka major on the platform who had demanded they show their documents. These were serious men: the Dūmiņš brothers, the Rozentāls brothers, Freimanis, Gudže...

Inese: Returning to your question—before concluding where forest brothers were and were not, one must find out whether anyone has actually researched this question in that specific area. If there is no information, it is possible that no one has looked for it, not that it doesn't exist at all.

Zigmārs: Last autumn (in 2020), we went to Kurmene, where the people we met were enthusiastic: "Look, someone is finally going to research our side!" ... We are two people doing this, and—what is very important—for us, it is a hobby! Physically, two people, no matter how experienced and knowledgeable, cannot research the entire post-war resistance.

Inese: This year, a partisan exhumation in Latgale* was described in the media, in which we also took part. That was for the purposes of improving and maintaining our professional qualifications, to understand what we are doing and whether we are doing it correctly.

Zigmārs: If we don't take on something and research it, it does not mean at all that we are not interested, but our physical capabilities are what they are. For example, in Lithuania, there is a Genocide and Resistance Research Centre where 149 people work, not counting technical staff. I will repeat, because it is very important: we are two people, and for us, this is a hobby. We drive, we talk, we invite the locals both to tell their stories and to preserve what they have found out themselves: "Record, write down, note down those people who are still able to tell something, who have any information!" If possible, you need to mark on a map where that forest edge or ditch mentioned in a story might be. We will gladly explain where in the archive you can find things, what is available, and what can be clarified. But—you go and dig, and you go and search, because there is no one in the country who would do this in a centralised and purposeful way.

Inese: There are very few researchers. In Kurzeme, as we know, Rita Kuzņecova is active, and the Rubenis Foundation is quite active. In Latvia, there is Reinis Ratnieks, there is Jānis Viļums, but even they try to do this outside of working hours. When talking about such a small circle of enthusiasts, it becomes clear why everything happens slowly.

Zigmārs: Slowly and outside of Riga, and what's more, people are acting on their own initiative.

In Riga, you can only look at documents. Maybe talk to someone.

Zigmārs: There are scientists and researchers in Riga who could do something. But... it is and it isn't...

Inese: There are experts in Riga who can be recruited.

Lithuania and Latvia have similar histories, at least in the last century. Why such differences?

Inese: I have tried to answer this question without populist slogans, but—I truly do not know! It is not clear to me. Perhaps there were fewer red scum in power in Lithuania?

Zigmārs: I wonder if there were fewer of them in Lithuania. One thing is certain: Lithuania did not have 1959, when the local national communists were ousted from power in Latvia. However, the first president of independent Lithuania was the former communist leader Algirdas Brazauskas. So...

Inese: Speaking of research, its beginning in Latvia (in the 1990s) was heading in the right direction: the Centre for Documentation of the Consequences of Totalitarianism (TSDC) was operating, where a small group researching the resistance movement was forming. What happened next? The TSDC was in charge of the "Cheka bags" (files), which were taken by the SAB, incorporating the centre into its structure. Consequently, the TSDC was no longer a public institution that could engage in research. Nothing replaced it. As far as Professor Heinrihs Strods managed to educate people or, more accurately, infect them with a desire to research, that is how many of them there are. You are currently talking to two of them. With Professor H. Strods, it was like this: either you liked him, or you very much did not. For me, while studying in my second year, I developed a very good connection with him. Later, a commission of historians was formed under the President's Office, where Professor Strods also worked. That was a time when they didn't really know how to react to a desire to research in the archives: whether to provide documents or not, to protect data or not, to give part of the information or all of it, what would be better – to research or not to research... But if you have a document on the President's Office letterhead with a seal, you get everything and can work. That is how I started too.

What is it that you would definitely like to find in the archive? What folder, what information?

Inese: There are definitely things I want to find. But I am just as certain that they are not in Latvia. I would like to find the early Cheka agent card index (the one from before the one recently published). The publicly available one starts from the 1960s, and its content is fixed as of August 1991. In the 1960s, as is known, the card index of that time was reviewed, and the cards of "unfit" agents were removed, archived, and taken to Russia (or destroyed). I would gladly research this removed part, because interesting things would definitely appear there—for example, local people recruited by the USSR intelligence service during the time of independent Latvia.

I would also like to take a look at the navy archive near Saint Petersburg (I don't know its exact name, though), where there could be information about the Cheka commandant (1940-1941) Yermolayev. The last news about him – is that he was a SMERSH commandant in Tallinn in 1945. I want to find his photo; I am very interested in the names, surnames, and, if possible, photos of local Chekists.

Zigmārs: I would gladly like to find the time for research. That is the hardest part! The rest only requires willingness. There is a lot unresearched in Latvian archives, but...

Speaking of North Latgale, how did you get on with eyewitnesses, how many of them were still around, have they scattered across Latvia?

Zigmārs: Few. They have scattered across Latvia, and, of course, there are fewer every year.

Inese: In 2001, when we started this work, there were still enough eyewitnesses to the post-war events in North Latgale. But! Before you understand where to head, where to go, and who to ask while working in parallel with documents, time passes, and someone has already passed on to the other side. If you don't have clarity, it can happen that during a meeting you don't understand what the person is telling you or are unable to analyse it, or... Looking at the collection of material after some time, you understand that something very valuable was said in the seemingly uninteresting conversation and you should quickly, quickly try to meet this person again, if it is still possible.

Zigmārs: I realised around 2015 that our post-war generation is passing away very rapidly and will "end" very, very soon. That year, we stayed in a hotel in Balvi for a week, and I interviewed the very knowledgeable local historian Zigfrīds Berķis. He truly had a lot of information; I tried to find out as much as I could from him, and in addition, we visited as many people as we could for whom he knew: "This one has something to tell." That was serious work and a very interesting time, and as a result, very valuable material has been accumulated.

Inese: Yes, that was the moment when it was already clear to us what and with whom to speak. Before that, there was hope for luck. You talk to someone who says: "Drop by my neighbour's, he will know better."

Neither of you is at a loss for words. What was the responsiveness of the people to interviews, since many are reluctant to talk?

Zigmārs: Very different. There are people who don't talk and don't want to talk. There are people who give the feeling that they have been waiting a long, long time for someone to come and talk to them. It has also happened like this: you drive there, you inquire, but you are a stranger to the person. Post-war years and partisans are heavy and painful topics and memories. For example, we talked to an elderly lady; she answered reluctantly, even though it was clear she knew a lot. After struggling like that for a while, we said goodbye, climbed into the car, and the lady started talking... For an hour without a break.

Inese: There are interviewees who wish to remain anonymous. We have experienced situations such as the one Zigmārs described – before the farewell handshake, the Great Story begins.

Zigmārs: It is good if the researcher knows the local historians, for example, the aforementioned Zigfrīds Berķis or Jānis Mājnieks in Piebalga, or... They, in turn, know the local people; if you go for a serious conversation with someone they know, conversations proceed more easily. If a local person has recommended you for a talk, the attitude is different.

Inese: These people have experienced a lot in their lifetime. Trust is important. For the most part, we have obtained information; the opposite cases would be described briefly: either the person knows nothing, or they won't say a word.

What about the stories and potential mistakes in them?

Zigmārs: Not many...

Inese: Not many. Of course, if a person mentions 1945, you must check whether it isn't 1946 or 1947. In the times when there were no voice recorders and I was taking notes by hand, I always had to check whether I had heard and written everything correctly, and whether I had correctly transcribed what I wrote down. No one has told us nonsense deliberately.

Zigmārs: If we drive to see a person, usually they don't know we are coming. They have not had time to prepare and invent something, if such a thought might have existed. We "take" what they know. The best are those memories told by people in remote places, deep in the countryside, away from active life, away from politics; these are people with their own (even pure) memories and a certain self-sufficiency. It is harder with those who actively participate in local and public life, because then, sometimes, fairytales begin...

Inese: It happens that people tend to retell what they heard or read somewhere... Once Zigmārs said: "Today I heard my own memories, because the interviewee had recently read my book about the North Vidzeme forest brothers."

Don't a read book or interview also stir up personal memories? And then they call you and say: "I read it, and I have something to say about this."

Zigmārs: There are people who call after the book is published and are happy to tell something.

Inese: It happens; it is good and normal. After the exhibition at the Corner House, which was dedicated to the Latvian residents murdered in Central Prison, I was asked: "Why didn't you mention our uncle, he was also among those..." In the conversation, we clarified that the uncle had been arrested earlier and shot elsewhere, but the wrong story about Central Prison had become established in the family. Feedback and even such mistakes are very good: it also helps us, it helps the relatives.

The impression has arisen that in terms of the resistance movement, Latgale has been researched the most. Is that so?

Zigmārs: No, that is not so! What has actually been researched in Latvia about post-war resistance? If we look at the regions, in my book about North Vidzeme ("North Vidzeme Forest Brothers, 1944-1953: The Battles of Latvian National Partisans in the Valka District and the Western Part of Alūksne District"), it seems, everything available about this region is included; there is nothing to add. Sēlija has been well-researched; Gunārs Blūzma and Haralds Bruņinieks operated there. Elīna Kalniņa has researched the Cēsis area; at the moment in Renda, that is in Kurzeme, Rita Kuzņecova has done good work. The Valmiera surroundings are currently being researched by Reinis Ratnieks as a PhD student at the University of Latvia. But there are still large white spots on the map of Latvia. I have a prepared book about North Latgale, the Grīva forests (Tilža and Nautrēni). Stompaki Swamp has been researched.

When Andrejs Ķeizars was creating a resistance movement museum in Renda, he had a good idea – to create a map where partisan battles would be marked. We prepared a map and looked: North Latgale, North Vidzeme, Sēlija, Kurzeme, and... a lot of emptiness. What is it? The map shows not the resistance movement and its spread after the war, but the level of research of this movement nowadays. The map shows where it has been researched and where it has not.

Inese: That is what we talked about earlier. If in some Latvian region a person sighs: "There was no resistance here after the war," one must first look at whether there have been studies about the respective place. Almost everywhere, something (resistance) has existed, perhaps except for the very Russian-speaking parishes...

Studies in North Vidzeme and North Latgale. A long way from Zemgale.

Zigmārs: Indeed, I live in Zemgale myself; I am a Jelgava resident in the fifth generation. I latched onto North Vidzeme because my mother's family roots are in Palsmane. Now I know that my grandmother's cousin and her father were shot in the forest as forest brothers in August 1949. I started the research in 1989, when I was creating a family tree and still encountered the generation that could talk about the late 18th century. The stories were colourful and interesting, but when reaching my grandmother's cousin, they broke off. "They were cowardly, they went to the forest, and they were shot there." That's it.

In the mid-90s, when I was studying at the Faculty of History and Philosophy at the University of Latvia, Professor H. Strods published the book "National Partisan War". An elective course on the national resistance movement appeared.

Inese: That was the only elective course for which I said: "Finally!"

Zigmārs: At the end of the elective course, every student had to write a small paper. I remembered this family story about the "cowardly relatives," went to the archive, where I found a card index from Cheka files. All three relatives were registered there: Helmuts Eiklons, Aina Eiklone, Ludolfs Eiklons. About Helmuts Eiklons I read: "Leader of an 11-person gang, killed in the forest on 2 August 1949." So much for the "cowardly" relative! Commander of quite a sizeable partisan group.

Personal interest in the family and its path turned into a deeper and more serious interest in the paths of the North Vidzeme partisans. During this research, my master's thesis was created, which exceeded the size of a "normal" master's thesis. I later published it as a monograph. What next? I knew that at one time the Latvian National Partisan Association had been founded in the Stompaki forests between Balvi and Viļaka. Logically, I decided to continue the research; I thought my life's task would be to research the activity of the Latvian National Partisan Association in all regions where it operated. The next region was North Latgale. That is how it started, and then I also met the Balvi local historian Zigfrīds Berķis.

Inese: Our first meeting with Z. Berķis is an interesting event. In 2002, a film crew from Hungary was preparing to go to the Stompaki Swamp from Riga. We were both informed about this fact; our daughter was three months old at the time. The decision was made quickly – in 10 minutes we found where to leave the child, and literally raced to Stompaki, where we met Z. Berķis. As I mentioned before, he also questioned us at first, even grilled us, trying to understand whether it was worth talking to "these ones" more seriously. Thus, gradually, gradually... Every year in July, we tried, though it didn't always succeed, to set aside a week for similar expeditions: to go to parishes and villages, to talk, to survey, to write down, to record. Working only in Riga, only in the archive, and not being on the spot is not quite right. You have to walk into the forest, find the paths, pick raspberries, understand—it is important for the research and the researcher! We spent the nights in the former office of the "Putj Iļjiča (Lenin's Way)" collective farm, which at that time was already empty and abandoned (2001-2003).

Zigmārs: We set up a tent on the floor of the office building. We had our own headquarters.

Inese: Yes, there were some beds from the old days there, which one didn't really want to use. There were "remnants" of electricity; an aunt from a nearby house brought a kettle. In the morning, you get up and step into the dew... That is how we lived for several summers, until the time came when... "How would it be if we stayed in a hotel?"

Zigmārs: Ultimately, after several years, arriving at the Balvi hotel and giving my surname, I was asked: "Would you like your usual room?" They already knew us.

Both of you write books. Inese likes to harshly criticise crooked historical writings and works of fiction. There has been much talk about that. While in childhood various literary compositions were read quite deftly (for example, the works of Vilis Lācis), it didn't cross one's mind then that we were reading memories or a true reflection of events. What has happened in these times? Has the novel suddenly become something very trustworthy and the historian must be like a watchdog, saying every now and then: "This and that is not true. Read it, but it is fiction!"

Inese: A very good question! I also think about it and marvel...

Zigmārs: In my opinion, it is no great wonder, because the generation that is currently active and in its mature years does not have, for example, the experience of resistance (personally experienced or felt). We have collaboration, humiliation, cooperation, servility. If we talk about resistance, for a very large part of the population, it causes hatred and disgust. That is a normal and natural reaction, and it is no wonder that people try to impose their own story on others: "We were good and nice, we had to join the Komsomol, join the collective farm, which had a great chairman—a true man of honour, etc." This element of collaboration is creeping and creeping into people's stories. It is spooky, though, that it has appeared and activated now. In the 90s, when the generation that had felt and experienced it all was alive and well, such thoughts did not sound so active. After 30 years in an independent country, the emergence of a message of similar content, I assume, is created by psychological motives. Currently, if I may say so, that experience gained in the 70s-80s is coming out; in short, the Soviet propaganda absorbed in youth and lodged in the memory is being told.

Inese: It is coming out in combination with the fact that there are no longer many eyewitnesses to the events. What was known no longer "comes" from those who experienced the situations or events, but in retellings: "I was two or three years old, but they told me that..."

Speaking of what Zigmārs said, it is worrying and frustrating not only because of the propaganda but because of the crooked ideas that have arisen about many events, for example, deportations. Deportations were a top-secret operation. I emphasise: top-secret! What do we hear? "Why did our collective farm chairman tell us that we had been on the lists?" Most likely, the talk is about the so-called "kulak" (wealthy farmer) lists, to know who was to be levied with what amount of taxes. These lists were made on the spot! Meanwhile, the "Cheka" was not interested in these documents. "Why did our neighbours come to us in the Awakening years and, crying, apologise, saying, 'We put you on the lists'"? Who came? On which lists? There is no one left to ask, but to understand the situation, a person will not go to the archive themselves, will not look at their family's deportation file. "I have enough of what my grandfather said! You, historian, be quiet!"

Zigmārs: "I don't need yours or the archive's papers, I know better, because my grandfather told me."

Inese: Often in conversations, it becomes clear that the grandfather was two years old at the time... "But he was there and participated!"

Why is it so important right now for someone or some people to emphasise local involvement in the actions of the Soviet regime?

Zigmārs: Because many have the experience of collaboration and humiliation, which they want to impose on others. "Everyone did it, it was fine, it's nothing terrible."

Inese: "If we did that and acted that way, and we are alive, maybe..." I also see a problem in the lack of control over the fine arts. Sometimes (sometimes!!!!) I am for the idea that "Glavlit" (censorship) should be reinstated, and every trifle and "doodad" should be passed through a certain sieve to sift out what absolutely must not enter the public space. "Artistic truth is more important than real truth..." Wait, if the composition is complete nonsense, which also contains personal problems. I wait with horror for the moment when someone composes poetry where a forest brother commander writes angry letters to a destroyer commander, and a love triangle forms, because both love the Party organiser. ...

Zigmārs: That is the moment when history becomes a part of everyday life. There are many layers, and the historian's task is to be mean, nasty, disgusting, and to tear all these layers off, so that only the facts remain. A historian must want and be ready to be disliked.

Inese: If a historian wants to work and perform their job qualitatively, they must be ready for the dislike shown by others. It happens that even professional colleagues shout at a historian: "Too many facts and not enough interpretations!" What the hell does that mean? If one can say such a thing...

Reports and reporters have returned in modern times. Is it good to report? How to evaluate: when and to whom?

Inese: First of all, reports should be evaluated depending on the time and situation. Even in the evil communist and terrible Nazi regime, it was quite good to report if something was being stolen somewhere, something was on fire somewhere, or someone had attacked a neighbour. If I saw someone in the yard burning a waste container or pouring petrol on the foundations of a shed, I would immediately report it to the police. The talk is about criminal offences.

Another question: what you report about and what you inform about. Speaking of the time of the virus, non-compliance with the rules is not something that leads to anything good and beautiful; it leads to big problems and trouble. That is the difference! It is not a fight for freedom! For what freedom? For the freedom to lie down and not move? Excuse me...

Zigmārs, you are also a farmer. How do you assess the current events of the last few years, namely, the farmer and the disputes about the correctness of farming?

Zigmārs: I let it all go past my ears, at least I try to do so, because there is a lot to do on the farm and less to do in history. There is no time to delve into the screaming of the crazy. There are rules that we follow. In the countryside, there is no "anything-goes" attitude that we can read about on social networks. "A little dog escaped, ran into a rape field, the kidneys failed..." What kind of nonsense is that? There wouldn't be a single deer, a single hare, a single fox, or a mouse in the countryside... In the middle of the countryside, there would be mountains of dead animals. I suggest going to the countryside and looking or encountering animals—there are many of them! I think panic is raised by those who rarely or never go outside of Riga.

Inese: The most cynical thing is the fact that those who write and push these tall tales are well-fed, eating buns made from the flour of the same evil farmers' pesticide-filled wheat. I can bet that the activists don't grow buns or bread on their windowsills in flowerpots.

Zigmārs: Chemicals cost a huge amount of money. No one will use them more than necessary, because that would be a pointless waste of money.

You mentioned that you have a book coming out.

Zigmārs: "The North Latgale Independence Unit. Resistance to the Soviet Occupation 1946-1954" is about the events in the Grīva forests in the Tilža area and, accordingly, the parishes that include these forests. A partisan group operated there, which formed in 1947. In Nautrēni and Rugāji, meanwhile, at that time, there were two student resistance groups. The story will also be about everything mentioned.
* https://ir.lv/2021/08/30/nobendetajiem-atdot-sejas-un-vardus/
* https://www.la.lv/nozimigs-atradums-tilza
Photographs of Inese Dreimane and Zigmārs Turčinskis used.