Theoretical Background and Methodology

In research literature, the term “language socialization,” implying the development of linguistic, cultural, and communicative competence, emerged primarily to define children’s verbal interaction with more proficient individuals (Duff and Talmy Reference Duff, Talmy and Atkinson2011). Later, the term has also been used to describe the processes by which newcomers in a community or culture acquire communicative competence, membership, and legitimacy through social interaction and (often) overt assistance, and by contributing to group activities (Duff and Kobayashi Reference Duff, Kobayashi and Batstone2010; Baghdadi Reference Baghdadi2017, 1–2). The intended purpose of language socialization “exceeds the acquisition of linguistic conventions and pragmatics to reach the adoption of identities, stances, ideologies, and behaviors that enable a novice to behave and be treated appropriately in the new community” (Baghdadi Reference Baghdadi2017, 2; Ochs and Schieffelin Reference Ochs and Schieffelin1986). In other words, language socialization is not restricted only to language use but also covers the issue of the effect of those processes on learners’ acceptance in the target community and their own statuses in it.

Studies in language socialization are typically ethnographic, and my research continues this tradition. This article stems from my own persistent engagement and extensive observation of language socialization processes in Estonia “on the ground” (Hult and Johnson Reference Hult, Johnson, Hult and Johnson2015) in formal and informal language acquisition contexts (Bronson and Watson-Gegeo Reference Bronson, Watson-Gegeo, Patricia and Hornberger2008; Duff and Talmy Reference Duff, Talmy and Atkinson2011). As a recent Russian-speaking migrant living in Estonia since 2010, I have tried a variety of strategies to learn the Estonian language: independent learning, Estonian language and culture courses at the University of Tartu, tandem learning (with Estonians who wanted to learn Russian), language learning apps, state-supported and civil initiative-based language acquisition events, language groups in different Estonian cities, etc. From this unwitting participant observation, I have moved to deliberate ethnographic fieldwork on language socialization in Estonia since 2015. I have conducted fieldwork in state-run and private language courses, Estonian culture and language cafes and clubs, in NGOs working on integration, in the accommodation center for asylum-seekers, in cultural associations of national minorities, among anti- and pro-migration activists, and in less structured spaces and venues of intra- and inter-ethnic communication. Some fieldwork also includes observation via volunteer work; for instance, I have been a refugee support person in the NGO “Refugee Council” and a volunteering teacher in the national minorities’ Sunday schools.

The central focus of this article is one of several similar civil society initiatives, known as Keelegrupp (translated as “language group” from Estonian), of which I have been a member since 2015. It is thus a longitudinal study of the interactions taking place at Keelegrupp for five years, primarily based on my on-site participant observation of its weekly meetings as well as extra informal meetings of regular Keelegrupp participants for common activities (such as going to the movies, cooking together, etc.—see below). I have also been actively engaged in organizing the meetings which has allowed me to interact with more participants and to observe the factors essential for the meetings to work.

Here, I should recognize several potential drawbacks of the given methodology. First, unfortunately, whether in Keelegrupp or in other language groups, I was not always able to inform every single participant about my research. As, for instance, Keelegrupp is quite informal and people can come to and go from the meeting anytime, it is virtually not possible to chase everyone or to interrupt the meeting to inform everyone about my observation aims. My hope, however, is that this ethical concern is not so crucial given that participants are not recognizable in the situations described below. Also, the article rather concentrates on the success stories, as most of the people I observed have been frequent participants of the meetings and made great progress in their language skills in years. I have not been able to talk to those participants who visited Keelegrupp once and never came back: it would have been of great value to learn what had not worked for them. This research also lacks recorded interviews oftentimes conventional in ethnographic fieldwork, however, I assume that the longitudinal character of ethnographic observation in this case compensates for the lack of interviews. After all, as Blommaert and Jie cleverly put it, “[it is incredible] to assume that what there is to find out can be found out by asking” (Blommaert and Jie Reference Blommaert and Jie2010, 3). Rather, the research has been complemented by other data: in particular, I sent this article to several active participants of the meetings so that they could comment on whether, to their mind, things have worked differently within the group. I believe, that by filtering my arguments through other active participants’ opinions, I added to the subjectivity of the descriptions. I also complemented this research with the analysis of mass media publications about Keelegrupp and similar initiatives in Estonia. In addition, for the sake of comparison, I did participant observation in other language groups (see the list below) which emerged later.

This allowed for many ethnographic observations of why ethnic segregation in Estonia persists, some coinciding with those previously noted in research literature and others—to my knowledge, hardly documented before. The following overview of the factors contributing to ethnic segregation in Estonia is essential before getting to the solutions offered for it.

Why Does Ethnic Segregation Persist in Estonia?

In 1991, Estonia became independent from the Soviet Union and faced the consequences of the large-scale immigration from the other Soviet republics that took place during the Soviet period. The 1995 Estonian Citizenship Act was built on the principle of jus sanguinis, granting citizenship only to the descendants of those who had been Estonian citizens before 1940, when sovereign Estonia was occupied by the Soviet Union. As a result, nearly one third of all permanent residents who could not prove their Estonian roots found themselves with undetermined citizenship (Seljamaa Reference Seljamaa2012, 5). In order to obtain citizenship, they had to go through a naturalization procedure by passing an Estonian language exam.

Soviet-era migrants chose different strategies for dealing with this situation. Many passed the exam; others emigrated to Russia and other post-Soviet countries or opted to get Russian citizenship and live in Estonia on a residence permit. Still today, 5.3% of Estonian residents have undetermined citizenship and remain holders of the so-called Estonian alien’s passport (ERR 2020a). For many of them, this is a pragmatic choice, since the alien’s passport allows them to travel visa-free between Estonia and Russia, especially if they have close family ties there. For some, in addition, this is an ideological choice: in my years in Estonia, I have encountered those who chose not to pass the naturalization exam on principle because they felt insulted by the need to prove that they deserve Estonian citizenship by passing the language exam despite the fact that they were born and raised and have worked and paid taxes in this country. Some may speak Estonian but simply not bother to take an exam and change the passport.

In the past two decades, encouraged by critique from the European Union, Estonia has made ongoing and comprehensive efforts to integrate those in limbo and encourage them to pass the language exam. The state has tried to introduce more opportunities for Estonian language learning by including more Estonian-based education in Russian-language schools, by offering language courses and integration events free of charge, or by paying for Estonian language course fees for those learners who pass state language exams. Still, there are many obstacles on the path to successful language integration.

Research on the reasons for ethnic segregation in Estonia typically cites three factors: ideological divisions, two parallel education systems, and residential insulation of Russian speakers. The first, ideological factor, is briefly described above: discouraged by the state’s initial approach to citizenship policy, many Russian speakers lack what scholars call integrative motivation for language acquisition, which is based on emotional reasons and the desire to be part of another group (Skehan Reference Skehan1991). The marginalized status of Russian language in Estonia also contributes to this: once a language of domination, it is currently what scholars have called a “forbidden language,” such as Spanish in the USA (Gándara, Hopkins Reference Gándara and Hopkins2010). The second factor is the persistence of two parallel education systems established in the Soviet era, when schools were divided on the basis of the language of instruction (Russian and Estonian). In 2019, 77 schools in Estonia still had Russian as the first language of education (Sutrop Reference Sutrop2019), and despite the formal requirement for such schools of conducting at least 60% of their teaching in Estonian, this is difficult to apply in practice: the quality of Estonian instruction in Russian-language schools may be poor (Lindemann and Saar Reference Lindemann and Saar2012, 1995). Some students, especially in the northeastern, primarily Russian-speaking regions of the country, learn the language only in theory, hardly having a possibility to practice it with a native speaker (Verschik Reference Verschik2005, 304). Residential segregation is the third related factor contributing to segregation (Tammaru and Kontuly Reference Tammaru and Kontuly2011): growing up in Russian-speaking regions, such as northern Ida-Virumaa, and spatially segregated neighborhoods, such as the primarily Russian-speaking Lasnamäe in Tallinn, children may never encounter Estonian peers, which is harmful not only for their Estonian language acquisition, but also for future friendships and connections, which often persist with other Russian speakers when they grow up.

Living in Estonia and studying the Estonian language, I have additionally observed many other obstacles on the way to successful integration that are rarely mentioned in the research literature. First of all, Estonian language acquisition is not a matter of existential need, as Russian speakers may easily survive without speaking Estonian by sticking to their own linguistic community. Many companies in Estonia are primarily Russian speaking, so the language is not required to work or access certain services. Many doctors speak Russian, most websites of Estonian companies have Russian versions, and many Estonian-language businesses make sure they have a Russian speaker to cater to this linguistic group. In addition, young Estonian and Russian speakers often use English as a lingua franca for mutual communication. In the case of older Estonian speakers, who often have known Russian since the Soviet era, Russian speakers often encounter what Anna Verschik (Reference Verschik2004) calls “paradoxical politeness:” Estonians switch to Russian if their Russian-speaking interlocutors are not skillful in Estonian. Elo-Hanna Seljamaa suggests that switching over to Russian in Estonia can serve “as a means of accommodating the other person and steering clear of evoking ethnicity as a potential source of conflict” (Reference Seljamaa2016, 35). Proclaimed as a country with one state language, Estonia in practice is a bilingual state (if not multilingual, given the high proportion of people speaking English). As a result of everyday bilingualism, Russian speakers may lack what is called instrumental motivation: when a language is learned for rational reasons as a means for political and economic success (Gardner and MacIntyre Reference Gardner and MacIntyre1991). Integration of Russophones is eventually not possible without socialization with Estonians, yet everyday informal communication between majority and minority groups remains rare.

Second, the problem of ethnic segregation is primarily tackled by native Estonian ministers, decision-makers, and activists who, due to the same vicious cycle of segregation, are hardly familiar with the attitudes and everyday problems of Russian speakers. As a result, even when striving for the best, they may miss nuances that are meaningful for their target audience. Exemplary of this is the fact that many state integration documents and initiatives have called their target audience “second- and third-generation migrants,” a label which is highly insulting to the Russophones who were born in Estonia and yet still feel excluded by being called migrants. For instance, when I was working as a volunteer in a migration-related NGO, my colleague, a native Estonian, asked me to translate a text from Estonian to Russian for her project. The text addressed migrants, including “second- and third-generation migrants,” and asked them to document their life stories, which would then compete for a publication in a book of migration-related stories. I can well imagine the hostile reaction to this call for Russian speakers born and bred in Estonia and still called migrants.

The third overlooked factor is the brand of Estonian as “the most difficult language in the world.” A Finno-Ugric language, Estonian indeed does not belong to the Indo-European group of languages, which makes it very different from other languages spoken in Europe, including Russian. Language learners encounter persistent horror stories about fourteen grammatical cases that are impossible to grasp, rumors about someone’s exceptional unique acquaintance who learned Estonian (as opposed to the majority of people who are supposedly not able to learn it), or examples of tongue twisters—a genre which exists in most languages and challenges even native speakers—which are provided as evidence that Estonian pronunciation is incomprehensible. These narratives combine to support the Estonian language “brand”—that of a difficult, even impossible, language to learn. These narratives, however, are hardly supported by linguistic evidence: the difficulty of a language is a relative category, and many other peculiarities of Estonian, such as the lack of the grammatical gender, make it easy at the same time. Meanwhile, mythologizing and demonizing the Estonian language demotivates learners: why bother to learn it if this is not possible?

Finally, the Estonian language exam, the official measurement of language socialization success, is a very subjective tool to evaluate integration. There are five levels of the exam: A1, A2, B1, B2, and C1; the B1 (intermediate) level exam is the one required for applying for citizenship. As with most standardized language tests, every one of these exams consists of listening, reading, writing, and speaking parts. Every part has its own requirements, and following them is a much more important criterion for success than actually being able to use the language in, say, everyday listening or reading. For instance, to complete the speaking part of the exam, one has to speak for about three minutes on a given topic. Many learners study phrases like “on the one hand, it is indeed so, on the other hand, some may have a different opinion” by heart which work for any topic and allow the exam taker to fill in the given time as much as possible. Slight improvisations on the topic guarantee that a speaker makes only a few mistakes and completes the speaking part successfully. As it often happens with other integration policy requirements (Gogonas and Michail Reference Gogonas and Michail2015; Astapova Reference Astapova2020), the exam structure encourages people to use special strategies to pass the hurdle, rather than motivating them to acquire the skills being tested.

Other lesser-known factors, for instance, include what Russian-speakers call the “F5 war”: while the Estonian state offers free language courses, it cannot cater to all those who want to participate. Every time the registration for such a course opens online, the potential learners have to engage in the “F5 war”: the number of those registering is so high that the registration page freezes and one has to constantly press the F5 key to refresh it and “win” the war for registration. Unfortunately, many learners may occupy places at the free language courses but never show up; in the meantime, those who are really willing to take the courses may fail in winning the war of registering for them.

As a result of ethnic segregation, many social problems in Estonia persist. For instance, compared to many countries with a large migrant population, migrants’ children in Estonia do not experience a considerable increase in education and well-being compared to their parents (Lindemann and Saar Reference Lindemann and Saar2012). The problems fostered by segregation emerge with any new geopolitical challenge: for example, after the Russian annexation of Crimea, many political scientists viewed the Estonian Russian-speaking city of Narva as being “the next Crimea” to support Russian intervention due to the large pro-Russian Federation population (Trimbach and O’Lear Reference Trimbach and O’Lear2015). During the COVID-19 close-down at the time of writing this article, the Estonian government experienced difficulties reaching the country’s Russian-speaking population with stay-at-home orders, as many Russian speakers hardly follow Estonian media, preferring Russia-based information channels. This reportedly created difficulties in establishing social distancing in Russian-speaking regions and neighborhoods (ERR 2020b).

The language segregation problem in Estonia, of course, is not absolute, nor are Russophones’ strategies of dealing with the situation. After all, the Russian-speaking population in Estonia is not homogeneous and includes people from different ethnic backgrounds (not necessarily Russian), ideologies, and attitudes. Moreover, Soviet migrants and their descendants (as well as the descendants of pre-WWII migrants) are no longer the only Russian-speakers in Estonia. In recent years, Estonian net migration expanded due to the high share of newly arriving Russian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian young professionals, whose integration patterns are strikingly different from those of the Soviet-era migrants. The legal demands of the Estonian and general EU migration systems require high qualifications to get through the migration quota for non-EU citizens, which, in practice, includes speaking at least English if not more foreign languages and encourages further learning of Estonian to gain a foothold in the country.

Moreover, the state is now not the only major actor working on immigrants’ integration: due to the growing economy and EU project funding for different initiatives, Estonia has experienced a general increase in civic engagement (OECD 2018), which was also reflected in immigration-related civic initiatives. Following the so-called “Refugee crisis” in 2015, which brought fewer than 300 quota refugees to Estonia after all (Astapova Reference Astapova2020), a variety of NGOs and non-state actors have started to offer solutions to the challenges related to ethnic intolerance and language socialization. They have been organizing meetings of migrant groups with Estonians in various forms, such as ethnic cuisine cooking classes, workshops on braid-making by refugees from Africa, and lessons on various folk cultures, where Estonians can introduce their culture to the migrants in return (Saame tuttavaks n.d.). A growing body of research has demonstrated the role of language and integration policy agents other than the state in facilitating change in Estonia (L’nyavskiy-Ekelund and Siiner Reference L’nyavskiy-Ekelund and Siiner2017, 98). In fact, the scholars have long understood the notion of language policy as processual, dynamic, and in motion, emerging in the course of everyday interaction (McCarty Reference McCarty and McCarty2011, 2–3), and inferred from people’s language practices, ideologies and beliefs (Spolsky Reference Spolsky2004, 8).

The description and analysis of one such language practice, a particular civil society initiative, is the main focus of the rest of this article.

Keelegrupp

Created in 2012, Keelegrupp was one of the first informal language-learning groups in Estonia. Informal language learning with native speakers in non-hierarchical teacher-student situations is a renowned educational method that manifests in a variety of ways, from previously popular pen pal letter exchanges (Barksdale, Watson, and Park Reference Barksdale, Watson and Park2007) to language meetups. Primarily designed to bring together common interest groups, such as knitters, computer gamers, Spanish scrabble fans, dog lovers, and other hobby groups around certain locations, Meetup.com has been a popular resource for organizing language exchange meetings, especially in large North American and Western European cities (Torres Reference Torres2017, 384). In Estonia, however, the Meetup groups are more tech- and IT-oriented, and Facebook serves as a primary platform for organizing regular language exchange meetings such as Keelegrupp.

Unlike many other language meetups, which would emerge later to cater to the interests of Estonian language learners with different native languages, Keelegrupp was initially created as a Russian-Estonian language group. The founder of Keelegrupp, a native Estonian named Holger Kiik, came up with the idea when playing chess with his Russian friend, Roman (who would also become an active participant in the language group). As it frequently happens in Estonia in communication between young Russian and Estonian speakers, they spoke English, yet while playing, they started discussing how chess figures and different things surrounding them, like a cup or a table, are called in Russian and Estonian. This is how they came up with the idea that they could teach their languages to each other and that many more people may want to study Russian and Estonian this way (Privalova Reference Privalova2015). For Kiik, Keelegrupp has been one of several conscious civic initiatives, and this is how he comments on its aims:

Beyond Language: Ethnic Integration through Joint Leisure, Consumption, and Civic Activism

The Keelegrupp meetings often go beyond mere weekly language practice events. At the beginning, depending on the possibilities provided by the venue, participants watched movies, prepared sushi, and played table tennis or board games together. This allowed for everyday conversations on topics associated with a variety of activities. Moreover, after a while, spontaneous activities at the meetings have grown into deliberate additional meetings beyond conversation nights. Members of Keelegrupp have been gathering for table tennis, bowling, volleyball tournaments, picnics, bicycle rides, parties, pub crawls, Christmas celebrations, and meals, introducing different favorite places, brands, and activities to each other.

Many of these joint leisure events also provide opportunities for rich cultural exchanges. For instance, the members of the group once had a food party with an assignment to bring the most disgusting food from their ethnic cuisine. We had Russian salo (bacon fat), Estonian sült (meat jelly), Belarusian draniki (potato pancakes), Finnish veriohukainen (blood pancakes), and Swedish surströmming (fermented herring), among other dishes. The participants of the group came up with the idea for the event spontaneously during one of the regular weekly meetings: as usual, there was no particular organizer or instructor who decided on the rules; rather, all the members of the group who were present at the time of this conversation came up with the idea naturally and democratically.

The discussions at the weekly meetings often touch on the latest cultural news, such as new movies and theatre shows, which sometimes inspires the interlocutors to attend these events together. Among others, the group members went to see the 2017 British film The Death of Stalin, which encouraged conversations about Soviet history in a café next to the cinema after the screening. We also watched the Estonian play Kosmos together: simultaneously performed in Estonian and Russian by eight actors—four from the Tallinn City Theater and four from the Russian Theater of Estonia—it consists of a series of funny sketches about interactions between Russians and Estonians (Teater 2016). The choice of the play was not random, as these same questions and problems of perceived cultural differences and similarities have often also been discussed within the group. For the same reason, the participants in the group went to see the Estonian film 14 käänet (14 cases), followed by a conversation with the film director. The title of the film refers to the major known difficulty of the Estonian language: having fourteen cases for pronouns, nouns, and adjectives. The film uses this major grammatical difficulty for Estonian language-learners as a metaphor for integration hardships that Russian speakers encounter in Estonia (ERR 2018). Interestingly, the Estonian Integration Foundation also organized the screening of this film for Russian-speakers and paid for their tickets. In contrast to this state-funded activity, participants in Keelegrupp bought the tickets themselves; also, the discussion afterwards was fostered by participants from both ethnic groups reflecting on their own similar experiences or friend-of-a-friend experiences. The latter is a recurrent difference between Keelegrupp and many integration events organized by the state: while the state-funded integration initiatives bring Russian speakers together in a group with other Russian speakers, Keelegrupp involves Estonians, Russian speakers, and sometimes other foreigners.

Scholarly analysis has revealed important ethnic differences in almost all leisure activities in Estonia, which can be attributed to the uneven distribution of the Estonian majority and Russian minority within settlement types and socio-economic status, as well as to the feeling of being a stranger in places of leisure where the other ethnic group is already over-represented (Kamenik, Tammaru, and Toomet Reference Kamenik, Tammaru and Toomet2015). A related difference lies in the consumption choices of Russian and Estonian speakers, with each group reportedly having distinct preferences for restaurants, apparel brands, and entertainment venues (Seliverstova Reference Seliverstova, Polese, Morris, Pawłusz and Seliverstova2017; Polese and Seliverstova Reference Polese and Seliverstova2019). In the meantime, leisure time spent together with the “other” group is known to encourage people to move away from their ethnic networks and to reduce ethnic divisions in multi-ethnic societies (Shinew, Floyd, and Parry Reference Shinew, Floyd and Parry2004). Keelegrupp has challenged the existing pattern of leisure and consumption segregation, as its activities bring a majority and at least one minority group together for joint events. In addition to emphasizing the positive impact of joint leisure and consumption on ethnic integration, cross-national research has highlighted a correlation between integration discourses and the degree and type of civic engagement among immigrant minorities (Bloemraad Reference Bloemraad2006; Ireland Reference Ireland1994; Maxwell Reference Maxwell, Ramakrishnan and Bloemraad2008). Keelegrupp, which was initiated by a native Estonian, a representative of the majority group, has been embraced by Russian speakers and other non-Estonians. They organize events, suggest solutions regarding the group’s future, and form a good half of the Keelegrupi aktiiv decision body. Via Keelegrupp, some representatives of the minority group also got involved in other social projects related to the support of migrants and refugees. After discussing other civil society initiatives in Estonia, such as World Cleanup Day (which are less advertised e.g. in the Russian- and English-language press), many engaged in them too.