Former conscripts: Estonian language rule would do more harm than good

The president recently vetoed a law aiming to block non-Estonian speakers from compulsory military service. Two former conscripts – a native Estonian and native Russian speaker – explain why they think the law change would have negative consequences for society.
Ilja Freiberg, 26, a native Russian speaker, and Sam Schmidt, 24, an ethnic Estonian, are both lifelong Tallinn residents and graduates of Tallinn University of Technology who entered conscription service one year apart.
Sam Schmidt is best known to the public as the rapper Säm, whose music resonates with countless young people. But few know that it was during his time in compulsory military service in 2020 that he fully realized music was his true calling.
"Before the military, I wasn't sure if I really wanted to be a musician. I was having what I'd call my first and only creative crisis. About three months into the service, while waiting around in the forest or just sitting in the barracks, creative ideas started flowing again. At one point, I realized I had written ten songs and tucked them away," Schmidt said.
He joined the military straight after high school, serving for eight months with the Viru Infantry Battalion in Jõhvi, after being drafted in the October intake.
"The military experience definitely came as a shock in some ways — I knew it would be tough," Schmidt recalled. He gave the example of spending four days out in the forest: "After that, all you want to do is collapse into bed, but first you have to clean your gear, tidy the barracks and only then can you think about yourself."

Freiberg, who comes from a Russian-speaking family, entered service in 2021 while nearing the end of his university studies. He was assigned to the Headquarters and Signal Battalion at Ämari Air Base. He said he felt prepared for the 11-month service, but his limited Estonian language skills posed a significant challenge.
"If it was just a university lecture, fine — I might not understand everything, but I could just check the slides afterward. But here, if someone is explaining how to handle a weapon, you really have to listen and understand," Freiberg said.
There were other reasons Freiberg felt extra motivated to improve his Estonian quickly. Leadership deemed him competent enough to be appointed squad leader.
"You're on your own with 40 people under you and you have to talk to them about everything. You're organizing their lives 24/7 and it's really tough — you just have to speak, there's no way around it."
The Estonian Defense Forces began offering language instruction to conscripts with limited Estonian in 2016. Three years later, the program became mandatory. According to Freiberg, about 10 percent of the conscripts at Ämari were Russian-speaking, while in Jõhvi, where Schmidt served, one in four conscripts spoke Russian as their first language.
"At first, they asked us what our language level was and whether we needed any courses, but none were actually held. They just asked if we needed help. I said yes, but nothing came of it," Freiberg recalled.

Schmidt said he also wasn't aware of any language courses actually taking place.
Freiberg gave an example where language barriers had real-world consequences. On one day, soldiers were both given flu vaccines and offered the chance to donate blood. "Some of them didn't understand that if you've just had a flu shot, you can't donate blood. And you could see on the nurses' faces when they realized that around 10 percent of the blood they had just collected was from people who'd been vaccinated earlier that day," he said.
Last November, the Riigikogu passed a law stipulating that only young men with at least B1-level Estonian proficiency would be drafted. However, President Alar Karis declined to promulgate the amendment, arguing that the language requirement violated the principle of equal treatment. At the time, the Defense Forces defended the proposal by citing several reasons why the requirement was necessary, including the difficulty young men with poor Estonian skills have in understanding terminology and commands.
Schmidt pointed out that conscripts are often entrusted with weapons worth hundreds of thousands of euros. "We conduct live-fire exercises and if someone misinterprets a command — especially if it's a junior sergeant making a key decision — it could lead to a very dangerous situation," he warned.
Still, both Freiberg and Schmidt believe the language requirement would do more harm than good. They view conscription as a last chance for young people to truly learn the national language.

"I worry that some people will start saying, 'Okay, I won't go into military service — I have terrible Estonian skills, so I'll be exempt.' They may think they're getting away with something. But in the end, it's those without B1-level Estonian who might suffer in life later on," Freiberg reflected.
Schmidt argued that it's highly unlikely that someone who hasn't learned Estonian by age 20 will suddenly do so later in life. "The military is one of the last places where young Russian men can really be included — where they can be brought into the Estonian environment, the world of Estonian youth. They should be included and the military should provide them with additional language instruction so we can understand each other," Schmidt said.
Both Freiberg and Schmidt believe exempting non-Estonian speakers from conscription could further deepen divisions between Estonian- and Russian-speaking communities. Those tensions, they warned, could become an irreversible threat to Estonia's national defense.
The young men don't rule out the possibility that the language requirement may serve as a premature form of ideological screening. In other words, requiring B1-level Estonian may be acting as a filter to keep pro-Russian individuals out of the military.
"People's values don't depend on their citizenship and they don't depend on their language either. We know Russia Today broadcasts in many languages. We have Putin supporters speaking every language, at every Estonian proficiency level. What kind of message are we sending as a society? That once again, Russians don't want to defend our country? I don't think that's the message we want to send," Freiberg said.
"There really does need to be some kind of change in the system. I don't know how or what, but based on my experience, for some young men, this just seriously damages the whole conscription experience," Schmidt concluded.
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Editor: Marcus Turovski, Mirjam Mäekivi
Source: Impulss








