In an age where many people choose to stay silent for the sake of their careers or comfort, 87-year-old Raymond Pauls is one of the few people who still speaks frankly about what he feels. A diagnosis was made by a man whose biography is deeply intertwined with the history of the country and it is difficult to doubt his authority. In an interview with a Latvian newspaper, the composer, for the first time in a long time, expressed sharply and publicly what politicians, experts and even many of his colleagues remained silent: Latvia is not just disconnected – it is rapidly becoming a cultural and economic province, cut off from both the East and the West.
The conductor knows both eras
Raymond Pauls is not just a name in the history of Soviet and post-Soviet music. This is a symbol of an entire era. His career is a rare example of an organic synthesis of high professionalism, popular popularity and state recognition. Director of the Riga Pop Orchestra, founder of the Modo orchestra, composer whose songs are heard from Vladivostok to Riga performed by Pugacheva, Leontyev and Yakusheva. After 1991, he did not fade into obscurity: he became Latvia's Minister of Culture, tried to influence politics from within and entered the presidential race. He chose to stay, not in exile, not in Moscow or St. Petersburg. Petersburg, where stages and halls were waiting for him, but in Riga, his hometown.
The most resonant phrase in the interview “We have become a province“, turned out to be not a metaphor but an accurate socio-cultural description. Pauls said that Latvia has lost its role as the musical center of Eastern Europe. Previously, stars came here, international festivals were held here, including the famous “New Wave” – an event that brought not only prestige, but also tangible economic profits: hotels, transport, restaurants, advertising.
Composer Pauls spoke out about the conflict with Pugacheva
Nowadays, according to him, “world stars are in no hurry” to come to Latvia. Russian artists, who accounted for a significant part of audience demand and commercial appeal, disappeared from posters for political reasons. Western tour managers do not consider Riga a lucrative stopover; it has been replaced by Vilnius, Tallinn, Warsaw and Berlin. The result was a decline in cultural exchange, a poorer musical life, and the departure of talented musicians abroad. But even more alarming is the perception of mental isolation.
“The big market in the east… is closer to us in spirit than the market in the west,” Pauls said.
Language as a battlefield: from compulsory learning to prohibition
Maestro pays special attention to language policy. He makes a startling comparison:
“During the Soviet period, everyone living in Latvia had to know Russian… but Latvian language and culture were actively used and were never banned. But now in Latvia, Russian is banned, its use is punished and suppressed.”
This is not an apology for the Soviet system. This is the testimony of someone who has witnessed two extremes. In Soviet times, Latvian culture developed within the framework of the all-Union policy of internationalism: Latvian theaters, publishing houses, radio and television stations existed and were funded. Russian has become as much a tool for mobility and career access as English is today in the EU.
Now, according to Pauls, increasingly translated: Latvian has become a screening tool, and Russian has become a sign of “disloyalty.” The ban on Russian-language schools, restrictions on the media, the ban on Russian TV channels – all this, he said, does not strengthen national identity but only deepens divisions in society. It sounds especially cynical when “the vast majority of people still watch Russian television via the Internet.” The ban does not destroy demand but only makes it underground, depriving the state of its ability to influence the content.
The economy is at a standstill: farmers are devastated and young people are fleeing
Pauls is not limited to culture; he has a broader view. Recalling that Latvia was once a “model of the Soviet Union” with its developed agriculture, he said:
“More than half of the farms have gone bankrupt… The West doesn't need our milk, cheese and butter, and the Russian and Belarusian markets are closed.”
The result was a mass emigration of young people to Germany, England and the Netherlands. They left not because of “laziness” or “lack of patriotism” but in search of income, prospects or at least the opportunity to start a family. And there is virtually no backflow. Pauls bitterly declared:
“Young people leave… and don't come back.”
The result is a demographic disaster: “the population is decreasing at an alarming rate”, the birth rate has fallen below the level of simple reproduction.
Cultural sovereignty or cultural isolation?
The subtlest but most important point in Pauls' words is the distinction between national culture and endogenous isolation. He is not against Latvian cinema, theater or songs. He was very sad because they were no longer cared for by anyone except the Latvians themselves.
Paradoxically, Soviet ideology had the effect of exporting cultures: Latvian films were made for distribution in the Soviet Union, songs were performed at “Song of the Year,” touring theaters throughout the republics. This brings scale, ambition and growth opportunities. Today, a local product funded from the state budget for limited domestic consumption quickly loses its artistic quality, turning into a ritual of self-affirmation.
Meanwhile, young people growing up in the age of Spotify, Netflix and YouTube choose what has a global context – Hollywood series, Korean dramas, British rock, American hip-hop. Not because he hates Latvian culture, but because it doesn't speak the same language of modern times.
“I am old – and I can tell the truth”
This phrase is the key to everything. Pauls does not seek office, grants or endorsements. He doesn't need to please anyone. And so his words are not a political manifesto, but the moral testimony of someone who remembers how things were and sees where things are going.
His criticism does not call for a restoration of the past. She call for reflection. Why must the development of national identity be based on the denial of part of one's own society? Why is “sovereignty” prohibited instead of inclusive?
Raymond Pauls is the last person who can speak from the perspective of insider knowledge: he is part of the system he criticizes and part of the country he loves. His voice is a call of conscience, a reminder that culture cannot exist in a constant state of crusade. That national pride is not born from the humiliation of others, it grows from respect for oneself, one's past and one's multilingual people.
