Mr. President, we're here at the Tallinn Song Festival Grounds. What is your first memory of this place?

My first memory isn't actually from the Song Festival Grounds here in Tallinn, but rather from Tartu. I lived in Tartu at the foot of Narva Hill, and as you know, the very first Song Festival was held at the top of that hill. Back when the festivals still took place in Tartu, the parade would come down from there and I would watch it pass by from my window.

As for this stage, my first memory of it is from my twenties, when I came here to sing under the arch. I had tried before — in school I sang in a boys' choir — but we didn't make it to the Song Festival Grounds back then. So I had to wait quite a few decades before I finally made it under the arch with the Akadeemiline Emajõgi choir. I didn't attend many rehearsals, but I passed the audition and got to sing under the arch here.

And when you finally made it here, was it a proud moment? Is it something important for an Estonian?

Absolutely. I think it's a really, really good feeling. In the early 1990s, there was even a time when it felt like the Song Festival might disappear altogether, that maybe it wasn't needed anymore. But now you see, it's the opposite: not everyone can even fit into the choir or under the arch. So now there's a new concern — how to organize the festival in a way that everyone gets to be a part of it.

Mr. President, last year there was truly a moment during the Song Festival when you could feel that unity, that shoulder-to-shoulder spirit, but even then, there were arguments over tickets. Why is there so much conflict?

It's hard to say why there's conflict, but the feeling here at the Song Festival was definitely powerful. I said in interviews at the time that it would be great if that feeling could carry over into the rest of the year. But unfortunately, that's not how it goes.

I don't know — maybe we're the kind of people who always look for what's wrong or what's missing. But as for the arguments over tickets, let's look at that in a positive light. It shows that the Song Festivals are alive and well and that people want to come here to sing, to dance and to watch. So let's focus on the bright side: there's something here worth celebrating. And if you didn't make it under the arch this time or didn't get in to listen, there's always next time.

Another moment when the public felt very united was during the campaign to lower the VAT on food. Nearly 100,000 people signed the petition — an all time record. What should the parliament do with it?

Well, it's ultimately up to the parliament to decide what to do. Taxes are often one of those things where you can ask the people, but I don't know many who would say they like tax increases. In a way, it's unavoidable.

What may be more problematic is when we raise taxes and then later reverse course. This kind of erratic approach creates uncertainty for both individuals and businesses trying to plan ahead.

If we're going to do something, even if it's unpleasant, like a tax hike, then we should stick to it, having first carefully thought through what it will mean.

Each law, taken on its own, might seem reasonable, but it has to fit into the bigger picture and align with other laws being drafted. The signatures have been handed over to parliament, but it is what it is.

Tõnis Mägi says he can't survive on his pension. Ballerinas from the Estonia Theater say they don't have enough money for food by the end of the month. I won't even start on single parents. Do you believe the worst is now behind us?

We all hope so, especially at the end of the year, that the next one will be better. Somehow, we've made it through this year. But it really shouldn't be the case that we're just scraping by from one year to the next. We want life to actually improve.

I recently visited a rescue unit. Even there, people are working two jobs — at the fire station and in the ambulance service — which is not a sustainable way to live. And yet people don't complain much, even though at one point there was this narrative going around that "we're whining ourselves into poverty." That's not true. People are simply worried about their present and their future.

That needs to be understood and maybe the government should turn its gaze more inward and try to truly understand the concerns people are facing. They vary widely. Just because the averages are improving or the economy is pointing slightly upward doesn't mean everything is fine. Some are doing very well, but for others, things have actually gotten worse.

Have politicians, the political elite, become out of touch with the people? Do they really understand what our real concerns are?

I think to some extent, yes — they do understand. After all, they're constantly meeting with voters; that's part of their job. But if we look at the statistics being presented to us, we see that people are increasingly feeling alienated from society.

They no longer see what the government is doing or how the state is operating as something they truly identify with. This is especially noticeable among the Russian-speaking population where the numbers are dropping sharply. There are occasional upticks, yes, but overall, it's not a good sign.

When people no longer see the state as theirs, but rather as belonging to someone else, that's a serious warning sign and something the members of the government need to address.

What role have politicians played in the fact that, as a society, we seem to be stuck in opposing trenches?

In some ways, it's a sign of the times and it's not just happening here. We see how polarization has taken hold across Europe and perhaps even globally. Maybe it's less pronounced in countries that are developing more rapidly, but in the older European nations, it's clear that people are entrenched, waiting for something to pull them out.

We are part of Europe's major economy, yes, but we haven't quite managed to showcase our strength in a way that makes it visible from the outside, so that we're also seen as an equal partner on the other side of the ocean.

It seems to me that politicians don't really want to pull us out of those trenches.

It's hard to say — there are all kinds of politicians. These days, it's a bit difficult to get a clear read on them because appearances have become more important than substance, how things look has taken precedence.

Being on TikTok seems to matter more than engaging with real issues. But that too is a sign of the times — it wouldn't be happening if people weren't willing to accept it.

Still, I would hope that behind all that TikTok content there's also real work being done and that they're helping to pull us out of those trenches.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that politicians are the ones who pushed us into them. After all, we're all people and we're the ones electing those who are supposed to make decisions on our behalf.

Why should people trust politicians at all, considering the mess they made in Tallinn over the summer or the fact that our capital is currently run by one party that has been criminally convicted twice and another that's under criminal suspicion?

People have a tendency to hope and believe that next time will be better. We forget pretty quickly what was promised to us and not delivered.

But politicians, whether we like them or not, are the ones who ultimately make the decisions that are supposed to move our lives forward. That's alongside us being responsible citizens and doing our own jobs to the best of our ability.

You don't have to love politicians, but we can't function without them. What really matters is that we don't become so alienated that we stop caring who governs us.

That would be truly dangerous, when members of parliament no longer represent the best possible cross-section of our society.

What set of values do you live by? And just to clarify, please answer as the president, not as a father or grandfather.

We all have our own values and what we call a "value system" is really made up of the personal values each of us holds. They're different and they're meant to be different. That's why society is the way it is.

Just as there's biodiversity in nature, there's diversity among people in how they understand the world. We don't just have to accept it — it is the reality.

If we want to have something in common, we have to work at it. We need to find that common ground and then build on it.

You don't want to share your own value system?

It's hard to put into words, because I believe that much of what we carry as human beings — including myself, now over 60 years old — comes from home. It's passed down through our families, our homes and also through school.

Later in life, it's quite difficult to change that because so much of it is shaped in childhood. That's why I often say that a good upbringing is extremely important.

At the same time, I also understand that there are families and children who don't have that kind of home environment — they might be growing up in orphanages or with a single parent. And that's where these differences come from. We each have different perspectives and that's exactly how it should be.

I don't want to get into the details of the value system scandal, but let me take that a step further. Why couldn't surrogacy be allowed in Estonia?

We can pass laws and try to enforce them by force, but if they haven't been discussed in society and if society doesn't accept them, then yes, the laws may exist, but the underlying tensions will remain.

It's better to first have those conversations, to understand what people think, what they want, how they interpret these issues. Only then can we move on to legislation.

There are some things that, in my opinion, can't be decided by referendum. These are topics that simply need to be talked about because society and the world are changing. That's the key.

But what should women without a uterus do? And why must they currently go to places like Ukraine, under the threat of bombs, to have a child through surrogacy?

That's exactly the kind of question we need to start discussing. I believe most young people do want to have children and when they can't, it's often a deeply painful experience and they start looking for solutions.

That means this issue needs to be opened up here in Estonia as well, so that people don't have to travel to Ukraine or even farther to go through the process and then bring the child back here.

It also raises a separate legal question: if it's prohibited here but allowed in another country, does that make it acceptable for us? Let's open up the conversation.

I believe that, above all, mothers — especially those who have lived through this — have an important voice in this matter. They understand what it truly means to want a child but not be able to have one.

And those women don't dare speak on television, knowing what might follow.

Unfortunately, that's exactly the situation today — not just for mothers, but for many people. We've reached a point where people are holding themselves back, where self-censorship has taken root. They're afraid to speak up or even express an opinion.

As a result, we're left with only a handful of voices dominating public discourse — those who regularly appear in the media.

I wrote about this myself back when I was a university rector: that only the so-called "correct" opinions are allowed to prevail and differing views are not tolerated.

The only way forward is to find the courage to speak out. I firmly support the idea that different opinions must be heard and seen in public.

How can we have discussions about values without ending up in conflict?

Maybe we actually need to go through that conflict first — to realize that fighting doesn't solve anything and that it's time to start looking for solutions.

Mr. Karis, I brought along some questions from elementary school students at Tallinn Secondary Science School and here's the first one: What was the hardest thing for you this year?

There are quite a few difficult moments in this role. Sometimes the hardest thing is being treated unfairly, when people speak out without knowing the full context of a situation. That can leave you feeling frustrated or even disheartened.

Another challenging part is seeing that something could be done differently, but not being able to act because this position doesn't come with executive power. Your biggest influence is, quite literally, your words.

Those moments do come. But it's important to always look for the joyful moments in a year. They help you get through the tough ones.

You probably see where I'm going with these questions. The viewers wouldn't forgive me if I didn't ask this. A few weeks ago, you posted the following and I quote: "I've suddenly become an adult. I no longer tolerate certain things — not because I'm full of myself, but simply because I've reached a point in life where I don't want to waste any more time on things that irritate or hurt me. I no longer tolerate unreasonable demands from fools, I've lost the urge to please those who don't like me and I see no reason to smile at people who do not want to smile back." What was behind that post?

Attached was a photo of a little boy trying to climb out of his crib — that's what inspired it. It was a personal post, not a presidential one.

The text itself was a borrowed thought, slightly modified, and it's been attributed to several different authors. But it just seemed to fit the picture and that's where the quote came from.

Of course, there's a kernel of truth in it. I think everyone, at some point, reflects on whether those words apply to them or how they relate to their own life.

I was thinking, too, that there were quite a few moments this year when I wanted to post something like that but didn't dare. I'm sure thousands of viewers feel the same way. So why did you go ahead and post it?

Maybe that's exactly why I did it — because others didn't dare, even though they wanted to.

Was that post related to your visit to Kazakhstan?

It definitely wasn't tied to any current event. The Kazakhstan visit has been blown out of proportion, as if something happened there that matches what's been written in the media.

And that's exactly one of those moments when you feel a bit frustrated or even at a loss, wondering why something like that gets written. The president gives speeches in the way he deems appropriate.

In that case, the nuance was that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent out two conflicting signals. But the ambassador on the ground probably had the best sense of the situation, which is why the speech was reworded for the university audience the way I felt was right at that moment.

You can't just show up everywhere with the same speech, kick the doors open, speak loudly, sing your songs and then see what happens. Every country is different. If you want your message to reach people, you have to be very careful about where and when you say what.

In Kazakhstan, the key moment was the meeting with President Tokayev. Instead of the planned 15 minutes, we spoke for a full hour and all the key topics were covered and made it into the joint declaration.

That's one of the unique aspects of this role — you have to read the room and think carefully about what to say and where. And that applies not only to Kazakhstan but to other, more distant countries I've visited as well.

We often prefer to engage with countries that are similar to us and think like we do. But we need to think further ahead.

The war in Ukraine will eventually end — hopefully on Ukraine's terms — and then we'll have to consider where we stand. Will we be out there alone in the wind or will we have friends in more distant parts of the world, especially in regions that are developing rapidly?

President Stubb of Finland, for example, visited Kazakhstan less than a month before I did, carrying the same messages and achieving similar results, but the coverage was quite different.

But what was in the speech that you ended up cutting?

That's hard to say because I cut parts of my speeches everywhere.

Did the speech include references to Russia and Ukraine?

Of course it did. The question was about how to phrase those references. I have to listen to the people who know the local landscape better than I do. They offer recommendations, not orders.

I actually revise all of my speeches, often right before delivering them, depending on the situation. I cut parts, I add new ones, even while speaking. That's something that comes with experience.

I've given hundreds of speeches around the world as a professor, as a rector and as auditor general, and that gives you a certain sense of how to handle different settings.

I was a bit taken aback by the messages written in Estonia — some even suggesting that the president isn't doing anything in foreign policy. That kind of commentary is honestly embarrassing to read.

Is the president's foreign policy somehow different from that of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?

No, the framework for foreign policy is the same. The question is always how and where it's presented. The president cannot pursue a foreign policy that contradicts the positions of our country or of Europe.

But within that framework, there's always room to choose what to say, where to say it and what not to say at all. Timing and context are extremely important.

If our foreign policy sometimes leans toward being overly forceful, then someone needs to keep a foot on the brake, rather than having both feet on the gas.

Let me bring in another question from a student at the Science School. Have you ever regretted becoming president?

No, I generally don't regret the things I've done. If anything, I tend to regret the things I haven't done. For example, I regret not finishing music school, things like that. But not my actions or decisions as such.

But in your role as president, is there anything you regret not having done?

In the role of president, it's often exactly those things — you can't do certain things. The office sets clear boundaries and a certain level of dignity must go hand in hand with it.

There are moments when you'd like to use stronger language, but that doesn't fit with the position.

Does getting tired of the office fit with the position?

Of course, there are moments of fatigue. In many ways, it's a 24/7 job and you only get as much rest as you can steal. You can't really take a full two weeks or even one week off in a row.

There are times when you're running on fumes and just have to keep going, doing your best. But I think that's true for any job — at some point, it runs its course and you start wanting to do something else or apply your knowledge in a different way.

Are you tired right now?

I don't know — look at me, do I look tired? I don't think so. It's the end of the year and a new one is about to begin, so it's important to keep your spirits up and keep going.

A lot of children also asked who will be the next president of Estonia, since the presidential election is next year. Would you like to continue?

That decision ultimately lies with the parliament. So far, the people of Estonia haven't directly elected a president, even though it sometimes seems like the current one was the only one ever chosen by parliament. But that's not the case — all presidents up to now have been elected either by parliament or a broader electoral body. I hope the next one will be elected as well.

But if that offer comes your way, would you want to continue? What would you say to those asking?

Well, if the offer comes, I'd certainly consider it. But I've also said that something quite extraordinary would have to happen for me to seriously pursue a second term.

The offer for this role came just over four years ago, on August 6, and I was elected on August 31. So yes, the world still has a few surprises in store.

What kind of president does Estonia need next, considering the current international situation? Does the country need a different kind of president now?

Every president is different and every president fits their own time. If you were to place Lennart Meri in today's context, he would be something quite different from who he was in his time.

You have to stay true to yourself, but you also have to be aware of the environment around you. I took office during the COVID pandemic and soon after, a full-scale war broke out in Ukraine. That clearly set the tone for my presidency and its foreign policy priorities.

As you know, in Estonia, unlike in some neighboring countries, it's the prime minister who represents us at the European Council and NATO. That means there aren't as many high-level international forums for the president — primarily the UN and speeches at events like that.

I've tried to make my state visits more comprehensive by including business delegations and cultural figures. That kind of soft diplomacy, I believe, can sometimes be even more important when it comes to increasing Estonia's visibility abroad.

So every president shapes the presidency based on the moment they're in and the context they're working within.

We've now touched on Ukraine and Russia. Journalist Andrei Hvostov recently said on the show "Impulss" that Russia is like a motorcycle — it has to keep moving forward in order to stay upright. In other words, the war must continue, because if the motorcycle stops, it will fall. Do you agree with that metaphor?

I think we'd also like to be a motorcycle — we'd like to keep moving forward, though certainly not in the way Russia does.

But history has shown that Russia tends to take pauses in its aggression and then, sooner or later, the temptation to seize neighboring territories returns.

We've seen it in our own history: even the Tartu Peace Treaty didn't hold. Just four or five years later, they tried to instigate an uprising, which failed, but as we know, in 1940 they rolled right over us and we spent 50 years under Russian control.

So we have to take that into account. Just as Ukraine needs security guarantees, we need them just as much. As a small country, our security depends on our friends — on NATO and other nations that stand with us.

Right now, there's daily talk of a peace agreement. What would that mean for Estonia, if such an agreement is eventually signed?

It's hard to say, because we don't yet know where that peace agreement would lead. As I've said before, it will most likely resemble some form of truce.

That's why it's essential to ensure Ukraine receives strong security guarantees — that's what would make any peace more lasting.

And yes, that would directly affect us as well. Our task is to make sure no one even wants to attack us — that we are and appear to be strong enough that targeting Estonia or any of our neighbors simply isn't worth it.

But once a peace agreement is signed, will the security risk here increase or decrease?

Again, that depends entirely on the nature of the agreement. But I believe we must do everything we can to ensure the risk decreases.

The war in Ukraine isn't the only conflict in the world — there are more than 40 ongoing. Understandably, Ukraine is one of our top priorities, but we also see that the world is unstable in many regions and major powers are starting to flex their muscles.

We have to take this multipolar world seriously. That means engaging more with countries that are farther away, understanding their challenges and then explaining ours in return.

It's often easier if you start by explaining how you see things.

What is the United States' and President Donald Trump's interest in ending this war?

President Trump is, of course, a very pragmatic person. As we've seen, he tries to strike deals wherever he can, whether it's with Japan or even Finland over icebreakers.

Now we have to consider whether we have anything to offer in return or not, but of course, we can't go selling off the Estonian state.

Still, when dealing with him, you have to keep in mind that he always approaches international relations with certain material interests in mind.

How dangerous is it when international relations and peace agreements are guided primarily by business interests and commercial logic?

It's something we have to take into account because, right now, the President of the United States is Donald Trump, and a legitimately elected president at that.

So we need to recognize that reality and think carefully about how we conduct ourselves in this space in order to maintain good relations with countries across the ocean.

The U.S. is a key partner for us — not only because their soldiers are stationed here, but also in terms of economic ties. Cooperation with the United States is essential.

So do we have anything to offer Trump in return?

What do we have? We have sand, forests and smart people. I wouldn't want to give anything away, of course, but agreements are signed between countries all the time and, in that sense, the U.S. is no exception when it comes to Estonia.

How do you feel about the fact that Finnish President Alexander Stubb seems to have a direct line to Trump? Does it make you at all envious that he's become something of a superstar among regional presidents?

On the contrary — I have a direct line to President Stubb. That's always a good thing when someone has strong relationships. We shouldn't feel envious at all.

We also need to move away from this narrow, insular mindset — the idea that if we're not in the international media every day, then somehow Estonia has disappeared from the map. That's simply not how things work.

Sometimes it's better to hold back. We don't need to worry if Estonia isn't mentioned for a couple of days. The country still exists and keeps moving forward.

The fact that Stubb has built a good relationship with President Trump is great. In fact, before my trip to Kazakhstan, I spoke with President Stubb and asked him specifically about President Tokayev — what kind of person he is and how best to engage with him. Our relationship is very strong.

And what did Stubb say?

He gave me some advice. He said you can speak with Tokayev openly and directly — there's no issue. Even Russia can be discussed with him frankly.

This might be your last end-of-year interview as president. What do you think people will remember you for? Let me offer one possibility: as the president who vetoed the most laws.

Oh no, that's not the case. President Lennart Meri vetoed around 40 laws. Granted, it was a young country back then and things were still being shaped.

In any case, vetoing laws has never been my goal. If anything, it signals that the Riigikogu should be doing its work more carefully. I have no desire to veto legislation — quite the opposite. But when something contradicts the Constitution, action must be taken.

As for what any president is remembered for... I'm someone who's quite aware of history and I think that history itself will be the judge.

A couple of decades from now, I believe there will be historically minded, source-critical scholars who can properly evaluate this time and my presidency within it.

This hasn't exactly been an easy period to serve as president. I clearly remember that even during Lennart Meri's presidency, there wasn't a whole lot of friendliness toward him at the time. But now, 30 years later, we recognize that he was indeed a very, very good president for that moment in history.

So you hope it will be the same for you?

No, I don't hope for anything. I think that 30 years from now, I'll be looking at things from a very different place.

Coming back to vetoes and returning legislation — one recent example is when you sent back a law that would have allowed citizens who don't speak the official language to skip compulsory military service. Why was that law unacceptable?

It conflicted with the Constitution. It would have allowed some individuals to avoid mandatory military service on the basis of language — an option that isn't available to those who do speak Estonian.

But clearly, the issue is much broader than that. I already suggested to Minister [of Education] Kristina Kallas, when the transition to Estonian-language education began, that we might need to take a closer look at this.

One thing is obtaining Estonian in preschool — that's not really learning. But after basic school, we could assess language proficiency and offer an additional year to those who need it. That would give them the chance to enter upper secondary school or vocational training with adequate Estonian skills.

Because these students already have a foundation, are not starting from zero. And we shouldn't be cutting off their educational paths or limiting their career or political opportunities just because they don't speak Estonian well enough yet.

Based on what you just said, I imagine you support Hendrik Agur's idea of suspending vocational training at the Ida-Viru County Vocational Education Center to focus intensively on language learning?

Yes, in principle, I do. I've visited several Russian-language schools that are now transitioning and you can clearly see what the problems are — these issues shouldn't be ignored.

Lack of materials, lack of teachers — those are real challenges that need to be addressed.

In first grade, it might not be so difficult. But by fourth grade, where students are already learning subjects like math, it becomes quite complicated to learn both the subject and the language at the same time.

It's clear that these students fall behind in education — and not just the ones who don't speak Estonian, but also those who do because the teacher still has to accommodate the whole class.

We need to face these problems head-on and find ways to make the transition to Estonian-language education much smoother than it currently is.

Is the situation any better at universities?

It's hard to say, because as we know, universities also offer instruction in English. Often, those who don't speak Estonian may opt for English-language programs.

But for those entering Estonian-language study programs, they inevitably need to know the language — otherwise, they'll simply fail their first exam and that's where their university education ends.

I've heard that a lot of them just memorize everything.

Yes, that happens too — and it's quite tragic. Even fourth-grade children sometimes memorize things word for word without understanding what's being said and the teacher gets the impression that they've learned the material.

That's often how it is with these schools — when you visit them, you can tell. If the president shows up, they try to present their best side. You see cases where people who may not actually be very supportive of the transition to Estonian-language education still try to give the impression that they're fully on board.

Then there are others who try to pretend everything's fine, because they're afraid of inspections. They want to do everything well and are working incredibly hard, but they live in fear that some inspector will come and start pointing out mistakes.

And then there are schools that have already been transitioning to Estonian for some time — there, the problems are much less severe.

All these schools are very different. There's no one-size-fits-all situation.

But does it also happen that a child is told to stay home when the president visits because they don't speak the language well enough?

Well, I don't talk to every student, but the ones who do cross my path usually speak the language just fine.

So they put the fluent ones in front.

I can't say for sure, but that would be very human. Honestly, I think I'd do the same: put the stronger speakers up front so the president can have a conversation and ask how things are going.

Coming back to conscription — I recently joined conscripts on a military hike and was surprised to hear that at some checkpoints, commanders were speaking Russian with the soldiers. At another, there was loud Russian music playing around the campfire. How can we be sure we're not training soldiers for the other side?

I don't know if that's always about language. We've seen that even Estonian citizens — regardless of language — have been caught committing acts that don't align with the values of the state, even cases of treason.

I've also visited military units and seen new recruits who are just in their first week — some of them can't tell left from right and their rifles end up pointed at each other. If those rifles had been loaded, it could've been dangerous.

So yes, language skills are important for safety alone. But in the Defense Forces, the language used isn't complicated — it's not philosophy. There are clear commands and terminology and those can be learned fairly quickly.

As for a Russian-speaking person listening to Russian music... I don't know — that's their music. You can't force someone to listen to something else.

Maybe the issue is also mutual — many Estonians don't listen to Russian music and maybe the same goes in the other direction. But fortunately, we're starting to see more and more young artists whose home language is Russian, but who sing beautifully in Estonian.

That might help encourage others too — if they see that someone like them has learned the language, made it in their field and built a career, then maybe they'll feel inspired to do the same.

Language can be learned, but can loyalty be learned too?

I believe loyalty is perhaps even more important than language. It absolutely needs attention. And many young Russian-speaking people in Estonia are very loyal to this country.

A passport doesn't tell you who's more or less loyal. Loyalty is something we have to nurture over time, but it's definitely not something we want to test in a wartime situation.

It's a long process — developing a sense of loyalty to your country.

But as I said earlier, if statistics show that people are feeling increasingly alienated from the state, that's a serious warning sign for loyalty, and it's not just about the younger generation.

When you go to Narva, do people recognize you — or is the war criminal sitting in the Kremlin the president over there?

I don't meet everyone, of course. There are certainly people there who look across the Narva River and sympathize with Putin.

But the younger generation does recognize me, especially children. Probably because my photo is displayed in schools.

Children are very genuine and they don't even call me "president" — they just shout "Alar, Alar!" That's very typical for kids. If they know your first name, they recognize you.

Do you really believe we can simply raise a new generation that is loyal to Estonia?

Yes, but we have to put in the effort. For 30 years, we've hoped that people would just learn the language and things would naturally get better, but nothing happens by itself.

Those who don't yet speak Estonian need to make an effort, yes — but we also have to do our part to teach it to them.

I'll return to the children's questions. Mr. President, who is your best friend?

The question of friends is always a tricky one. In some cultures, people meet someone once and say, "Oh, that's my best friend." I'm more sensitive about that.

I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have are loyal. They're true to our friendship and I'm true to them.

But over time, it's become clear that my best friend is my spouse, my wife.

I figured there was no other way you could answer that. You and Sirje Karis have been married for nearly 50 years. What would you say is the key to a long marriage — for someone who's just gone through a divorce?

I think everyone has to find that key for themselves. Sometimes, being apart for a while helps. That's been true for us — I've had periods of travel abroad alone and that kind of distance makes you miss each other.

But there's no simple, universal formula. Over 50 years, of course there have been difficult times in the marriage. You have to get through those together.

And when you've been married nearly 50 years, it would feel quite strange to suddenly start looking for reasons to separate.

After 50 years, I suppose you don't argue anymore?

Oh, we still have disagreements. The older you get, the more likely you are to bicker over the little things — not the big, ideological stuff. It still happens.

What was the last argument about, then?

I don't remember. Let's not end the year listing arguments — let's hold on to the good memories instead. These aren't serious fights where voices are raised, more like a bit of harmless nagging.

Let's finish on a warm note and return to the Song Festival. How could we have more "Song Festival" in everyday Estonian life?

The Song Festival lives in our hearts — we just have to find it. Yes, the festivals happen every two to five years, but let's hold on to those beautiful moments.

A "song festival" doesn't have to be about singing — it's about carrying more joy in our hearts. Let's take those joyful moments from this year and carry them with us into the next.

The more of those we have, the more Song Festival we'll feel in our lives.

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