I come from a land called Estonia.

My task is to describe from this dais the co-ordinates of this land. The task of art is to open to you from this stage the soul of this land, its colors, its desires, its hopes.

I am one of the few presidents in Europe who has been able to see half of the population of his nation in a single glance. Estonia, namely, is a very small state, a little bit larger than Denmark, Belgium, Holland or Switzerland, but markedly smaller in population: we are just barely over a million. We are the northernmost of the Baltic States and we stand on the littoral of a sea that the British and French call the Baltic Sea, the Germans the Eastern Sea, but which the Estonians, in their own stubborn fashion, call the Western Sea: for after all, the sea is to the West of us.

Actually Estonia is a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water, like Western Europe itself. Primarily because of this and due to our distant, hyperborean latitude, migrations of peoples which have been so important to the history of European culture have left Estonia untouched. From this comes one of our most important traits: we are one of those few European nations that lived continuously in one place and in the harsh conditions of Hyperborea, in its rocky and marshy landscape, and has created its own culture. Do not, however, see in the unbroken fifty centuries a desire to achieve a Guinness world record. Far more important for Europe is our experience, that this culture has developed in a harmonious relationship with the environment and has not provoked ecological conflicts similar to the ones in ancient Italy or Greece. Perhaps this non-conflictual nature is reflected in our folksongs or in composed music, which is sometimes percieved to be monotonous. Estonians do not perceive their history, their landscape or colors as monotonous. As a small nation in a small land we do not use the telescope but rather the microscope. Our Mont Blanc is 318 meters high and songs have been written about it. Our hills, larger trees and the boulders left on our fields from the last Ice Age all have their own names, like living people. Every single hectare of our land is documented - in figure of speech, in legends, in song, in literature or in scholarly articles. One must step carefully in Estonia, so as not to treat on living history. An Estonian is in continuous dialogue with Estonia. It is a quiet murmur. In Estonian music, the pause is the most ringing note.

A little while back I said that in a single glance I have been able to see half of the people, half a million people. They had gathered at a field near our capital, Tallinn, which is called the Field of Song. This large field could also be called Thermopylae or Cannae or Verdun, because after the Second World War this has been our final battlefield, behind which yawned the blind forgetfulness of destruction. But our bows were sopranos, our cannons were basses and Vercingetorixes were Estonian conductors and composers, in whose hands music once again found its primeval function: from entertainment and background to eveningsalongs it became the defender of identity, a protective shield for the whole people. Perhaps some of you remember via the newspaper headlines the expression "Singing Revolution". This was not a metaphor. A mere few years ago it was reality that today, like so much else, is already distant history.

Nonetheless I would like to say that in addition to hope, pride and self-assurance, this image, never again to recur, of one people, singing one song, created within me also fear and dread. Half the nation fitting onto one field. How many human races could fit into a square kilometer? Culture and music in its most general sense is also obligated to pose uncomfortable questions. Culture, as I understand it, is the only environment that guarantees the reproduction of mankind.

But regarding Estonia, as I listened to the people singing - and sang along with them - I understood one more specific trait. There are slightly over one million Estonians. The realtionship between the State and the people is therefore altogether different from what it is in Germany or France or even in tiny Sweden. Our relationships are familial. Every adult in any Estonian village may borrow money to get home, or rubber boots, should he need them. Is a million enough to develop art, to study the stars, the Sumerian language or atomic structure, or to play music at a sufficiently professional level that we would be invited back to Munich?

We have defended our identity with the sword, but even moreso with traditions that are oldest in Europe. Occasionally, these old stratifications in our music will strike your sensitive ear. But we have defended our identity first and foremost in order to remain in Europe, to remain Europeans and to help Europe maintain the European phenomenon - the many faces of its cultures. May it be for you to decide, based on the resources of the Estonian State Symphony Orchestra, whether we have succeeded in this endeavor by way of our music. If my memory does not deceive me, we opened our concert season on the 3rd of June, 1583, when the City of Tallinn, for the price of 52 pieces of silver, 114 pounds of rye and 10 measures of fine wool cloth, hired a musician who was obligated to offer city residents professional music all year around. Nowadays, in the first difficult years after having reinstated independence, the pay of our symphony orchestra is just slightly higher than that for musicians four hundred years ago. This bespeaks of idealism and loyalty to European culture, but also of your duty, ladies and gentlemen to expand eastward the idea of Europe along with her borders. This is my main message to the European Musicale. I am thankful for the patronage of the European Musicale and thank the President of the Commission of the European Communities Mr. Jacques Delors, that he, together with the city of Munich, provided this lovely hall and this superb microphone for the purposes of a political message, a message which Estonia's musicians, I hope, will now convincingly affirm and leave to germinate in your hearts.

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