MAARJA VAINO ⟩ There is a vague fear spreading in our society: if you speak too freely, you'll...

Maarja Vaino. Photo: Mihkel Maripuu

• If you deviate from a specific opinion, you risk being canceled.
• The fear prevailing in society has multiple levels.
• A courageous person is someone who overcomes fear.

It is a somewhat strange experience when you realize that more and more people prefer not to talk about certain topics, or if they do, they speak in hints or in a subdued voice, cautiously glancing around, columnist Maarja Vaino writes.

There are topics and opinions that people fear to express due to some vague moral condemnation. For example, there must be no doubt about it that it is always acceptable to joke about «old men» as much as one likes, but an ironic approach to women's issues is practically off-limits. The entire topic of women seems to have been hijacked by activists armed with definitive theses. Anyone who questions them will feel the consequences! Similar fixed, aggressive stances – seemingly coming from somewhere (but where?) – dominate many issues. Doubters and those with differing views increasingly keep their opinions to themselves or express them semi-secretly, among their own circle.

Somehow, a vague fear has started to spread in our society: those who speak too freely may end up facing negative consequences in one way or another. If you criticize the government or officials too boldly, it might come across as a negative reference in your future endeavors. If you deviate from the prescribed – that is, the only «correct» – opinion on trending societal topics, you risk being «canceled» in some form. And so on.

It seems that fear exists on multiple levels. In recent weeks, quite a lot has been written in Postimees about the so-called deep state, and it's likely that at least part of the population has indeed been frightened by the possibility of being «subjected to proceedings» – as the classics have said, it's always possible to find the necessary provision in law. There are so many EU directives alone that we're probably violating at least one of them every day. Unfortunately, there have been such cases in our country, although we would like to believe that such proceedings belong to the past – to the era of a different regime.

At some other level, there is a vague circle of people who have taken it for granted that they have the right to prescribe what is right and wrong.

At some other level, there is a vague circle of people who have taken it for granted that they have the right to prescribe what is right and wrong. How certain issues are to be thought about. Among them are a number of actors in the public sphere, so they play a significant role in shaping opinions and attitudes. They form a kind of «echo chamber,» and condemnation from this chamber leads to «mental execution» in the public sphere. The majority of people cannot endure this type of brutal cancelation, which has happened to so many. Even if, for example, they are eventually cleared in court. It doesn't make much difference in retrospect. By careful silence, one can steer clear of these rocks...

Fear of cancelation keeps silent those who are perhaps not necessarily afraid of being «subjected to proceedings» themselves. They are often people who could shape our space of opinion and enrich our thinking, but they are scared off by an aggressive minority. So they find it better to avoid doing so.

Those called ordinary people are afraid too. More and more often, you encounter the attitude that what happens in the country is not my concern – I'm just trying to get by with my own life. But even that doesn't guarantee being safe from administrative harassment or other unpleasant experiences. That's why people increasingly try to stay unnoticed, to act and think in line with what is «expected,» because, as the saying goes, «those at the center come home.»* The silent majority – which Toomas Kiho once wrote about in the context of Rail Baltic – has become even more silent and an even greater majority.

After all, it's probably easier to govern a country when the people stay quiet and don't interfere with the plans of the government and ministries.

And yet, an invisible but distinctly perceptible awkward atmosphere of fear is abnormal in any democratic country. In fact, one might even ask whether such a country is still truly democratic if its citizens are afraid – of something. And that something does not come from outside, but is swelling right here among us. It's strange to think that there was a time when people in every workplace knew who the «informant» was, and which topics were better left unspoken in their presence. Strange, because in free Estonia, people now also watch carefully who is listening before they speak. When to pretend, when to stay silent, and when to express one's real opinion. That doesn't exactly speak of a healthy and vibrant civil society.

Any social order that encourages a culture of fear usually reaches its peak by collapsing somehow. Either as a result of long processes brought about by all-round degeneration, as society no longer applies the best knowledge and vision but acts out of the «proprietary wisdom» of a small circle of people. Or quickly, when people «take to the barricades,» as has sometimes happened in France, for example.

Any social order that encourages a culture of fear usually reaches its peak by collapsing somehow.

We, too, have experienced a few revolutions. For example, the third volume of «Truth and Justice»** describes the great revolt of 1905, when shots were fired at people in the New Market Square in Tallinn. That novel also speaks quite a bit about fear and intimidation. One could even say that a kind of philosophy of fear emerges from the work, represented by a relatively little-known character, Mr. Bõstrõi. He is an economist who is used to explaining the world through models and patterns. He himself has lived like a clock, which he faithfully winds up every morning and which, with dull consistency, shows the exact time.

But in the time of the revolt, something in Mr. Bõstrõi's worldview collapses. He cannot believe that forecasts and plans can go down the drain just because people have had enough of the life they are living. He laments: «That's what's truly frightening. Human fickleness. They endure for centuries, and then, all of a sudden, they don't endure anymore. According to economic science, they should endure a little more, but no – they suddenly, unexpectedly, and in a manner beyond comprehension, let off steam. Why? Is life worse for them now than it was last year or earlier still? Do they have less freedom or fewer rights? No. They simply reach a point, they boil over, like a milk pot with an invisible flame beneath it.»

The impoverished subjects of Tsarist Russia eventually reached a point where they had nothing left to lose. And thus, they could no longer be sufficiently intimidated into obedience. At least, that is how Mr. Bõstrõi explains the revolution – through the fading of fear: «Until now, prisons frightened people. They no longer do.»

Something similar happened, in a way, with the Soviet Union. When there was no longer much to lose, even protest became a risk worth taking.

Fortunately, we do not have to equate our own country with Tsarist Russia or the Soviet Union. Still, there are moments when the comparison feels uncomfortably close.

Comparisons like these reveal the answer to why people, for example, are afraid to express their opinions or views. We have quite a bit to lose – we have quickly grown accustomed to a relatively prosperous society. We are not exactly sitting in a gilded cage, but we certainly don't want to lose or jeopardize our income or the property accumulated through effort. Nor would we want to endure the humiliation of a cancelation campaign looming from afar. Not to mention court proceedings, which most of our compatriots cannot afford.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

Isn't this, after all, a lesson – that a truly pluralistic and internally free society is not a given, not something fixed once and for all, but a continuous process, which requires constant vigilance in defending free thought and the right to express it, without retreating in the face of what looks scary? That process seems to be slipping away at the moment. Therefore, let us recall an old piece of wisdom: courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to overcome it. Only when that courage is found can we truly speak of a free society.

* Kalevipoeg: an ancient Estonian tale. Compiled by Fr. R. Kreutzwald; translation by Jüri Kurman. Moorestown (New Jersey): Symposia Press, 1982. Page 276

And sisters counseled their brothers:

«I'll adorn you, my dear brother,

grace you with good counsel:

o my brother dear,

as you ride the road of death,

when you walk the field of battle,

don't press into the van

nor keep back to the rear:

the first men are struck down

and the rearmost are slain;

spin at the center of the strife

near to the standard bearer;

those at the center come home.»

** Tõde ja õigus (Truth and Justice), written in 1926-1933, is a pentalogy by A. H. Tammsaare, considered to be one of the major works of Estonian literature