Igor Kotjuh: Integration as a system and contradiction

If national identity is defined too narrowly, it can become a closed circle that is difficult to enter. If it is defined too broadly, there is a fear that national distinctiveness may dissolve. As a result, smaller nations often live between two opposing fears: on the one hand, the fear of disappearance; on the other, the fear of excessive closure, writes Igor Kotjuh.
In recent weeks, several opinion pieces have appeared on ERR discussing whether one can become Estonian or only be born Estonian. This kind of debate is not uncommon in Estonia's public sphere. From time to time, questions of identity and belonging resurface and are examined from a slightly different angle each time.
This time, the discussion has featured contributions from Tiiu Hallap, Marek Tamm, William Buescher and Arashk Azizi. Their texts stem from different positions. In some, origin and historical memory take center stage; in others, cultural belonging or civic identity. Some authors approach identity in more theoretical terms, while others rely on personal experience and self-definition.
In that sense, this is not merely a dispute over who can or cannot be considered Estonian. The texts touch on a broader issue: how society makes sense of belonging. Several layers inevitably intertwine here. Identity is closely tied to language, culture and integration, as well as to how people find their place within Estonian society.
At the same time, this discussion is not new. Questions of integration and identity have repeatedly emerged in Estonia's public discourse over the past couple of decades. Typically, this happens in the wake of major societal events or against the backdrop of political debates. Each time, it creates the sense that the conversation is starting anew.
Certain recurring patterns stand out in these discussions. First, the debate seems to begin from scratch, as if earlier treatments did not exist. Second, many texts rely on personal experience, which is natural and important but does not always provide a complete picture. And thirdly, state institutions tend to remain on the sidelines in such debates, even though integration policy in Estonia has been shaped at the national level since 2000.
This does not mean the discussions are pointless. On the contrary, they show that questions of identity and belonging continue to resonate in society. At the same time, it inevitably raises the question of why each new round of debate appears to start from nearly the same place.
Earlier studies and shifting context
Yet the topic of integration in Estonia has not gone unstudied. Over the years, a number of thorough analyses have been conducted to describe how Estonian society actually functions.
One of the most influential approaches has been the work of Marju Lauristin on integration monitoring. It described Estonian society through different groups and clusters, which varied in terms of language proficiency, media consumption, social ties and civic participation. This showed that integration is not a uniform process. Some groups move closer to the center of society, while others remain more distant from it.
Such studies have provided a great deal of valuable information for public debate. Yet this knowledge often remains in the background of today's discussions. When questions of identity and integration once again come to the fore, earlier research is not frequently cited, nor is there much discussion about whether its conclusions still hold or need updating. As a result, there is sometimes a sense that each new round of debate begins from the same starting point.
The understanding of integration itself has changed over the past couple of decades. In the early 2000s, public discussion focused mainly on the integration of the Russian-speaking population into Estonian society. Later, however, the picture has become more diverse.
Estonia has become part of a globalizing world. People have arrived in the country both from across Europe and from farther afield. Society has grown more mobile and international.
Events in recent years have added a further dimension to this development. Following the 2022 war in Ukraine, Estonia has taken in tens of thousands of Ukrainian war refugees. This has placed the issue in a new context: alongside earlier groups, there is now a need to consider how to support people adapting to life here after arriving because of war.
Thus, over time, integration has become significantly broader and more diverse. It no longer concerns just one large societal group, but increasingly a wide range of people whose backgrounds, languages and life experiences may differ greatly.
Fragmentation and different stories
When looking at these discussions and the accumulated knowledge together, another pattern becomes apparent: integration is often treated in a fragmented way. Debates develop separately from one another. Research follows its own path. Political decisions are made on a different timeline. People's everyday experiences, too, take shape differently from all of this.
This creates a situation in which it is difficult to see the bigger picture. Integration is not a single process moving in a fixed direction, but rather a system made up of parts that develop at different speeds and sometimes in different directions.
One way to make sense of this is to view integration as a point where different stories intersect.
In society, integration is discussed from multiple perspectives, giving rise to different stories and narratives. The state does so in the language of policy and programs; institutions through projects and measures; individuals through their lived experience. Society as a whole responds in its own way.
These narratives do not always align. Sometimes they support one another; at other times, they move in different directions. As a result, integration can appear contradictory or uneven.
A recent example illustrates this quite clearly. Two young women of Ukrainian background gave a live interview in Estonian on an Estonian-language television channel. Before the broadcast, a brief conversation took place in the makeup room with a makeup artist. During the exchange, the younger woman's Estonian was praised and she was asked what she hoped to do in the future. She replied that she wanted to study journalism. In response, she was offered the opportunity to try an internship in a Russian-language newsroom.
This situation was later described on social media, along with the disappointment that, despite her strong Estonian skills, she was implicitly expected to fit into a Russian-language environment.
Within this small moment lies a broader issue. A person's actual language ability and their own choices do not always align with how society automatically categorizes them. There is an assumption that someone from Ukraine will naturally fit into a Russian-speaking environment, even when their stronger working language is Estonian and they see their future in the Estonian-language public sphere. She was not asked.
Similar tensions can be observed in other texts in this discussion. William Buescher writes about his experience as someone who feels Estonian but may not always receive the same recognition from society. Arashk Azizi emphasizes that part of identity is a matter of personal choice and develops over time.
These examples point to the same issue: a person's self-identification does not always coincide with how society perceives them.
Integration does not end with language. What also matters is whether society is prepared to see a person within the linguistic and cultural space to which they themselves wish to belong.
Identity not always singular
In such a situation, the issue of identity inevitably comes to the fore. In these discussions, it is often treated in a rather simplified way, as if it were a single, clear and one-directional form of belonging.
In reality, identity is often multi-layered. A person's sense of self may consist of several different components at once. Origin, language, citizenship, cultural environment and personal life experience can all play a role.
Identity can also take shape in different ways. Sometimes it forms a single whole made up of various roles and affiliations. At other times, a person may have multiple identities, each with its own roles and meanings.
Some people are born into families with multiple identities; others arrive at this over the course of their lives. Such situations are not unusual in contemporary Europe or, more broadly, in the West. On the contrary, they are becoming increasingly common.
For this reason, the question of belonging may be more complex than it first appears. Identity is not always an either-or choice. At times, it is a whole composed of multiple parts.
It is precisely here that the discussion returns to an issue that is especially sensitive for small nations: how to maintain a balance between openness and self-preservation.
If national identity is defined too narrowly, it can become a closed circle that is difficult to enter. If it is defined too broadly, there is a fear that national distinctiveness may dissolve. As a result, smaller nations often live between two opposing fears: on the one hand, the fear of disappearance; on the other, the fear of excessive closure.
Debates on integration tend to move along this very boundary. The question is not only who does or does not belong, but also how a society can find a balance between continuity and openness.
Inhabiting the contradiction
Recently, I came across an exhibition by the artist Carlos Bunga titled "Inhabit the Contradiction." The spaces he creates are not permanent. Giant cardboard structures resemble tree trunks at times, columns at others. They do not grow but seem already shifted or collapsed. This creates the sense that what we are seeing is not a beginning, but a state after change.
The same logic extends to the human figure. In the exhibition's sculptures, a recurring image appears: a person who carries a house in place of their head. Sometimes it sits where the head should be. In other instances, the house is placed on the ground and the person seems to grow out of it, head downward.
This creates the impression that a person does not live in a house but moves along with it. They carry their place with them, reposition it and search for a way to inhabit it. It does not come across as a symbol, but as a description of a condition.
When society does not support a person's desire to belong, they may remain in such a state. They do not know where to place their "home." They try, shift and search, but fail to find a stable place. In such a situation, contradiction is not an exception but a constant condition. It is not a neutral experience — it is uncomfortable and exhausting.
This kind of fragmentation does not affect only debates, but also understanding. A shared understanding of how integration and identity function is not always self-evident.
It also touches on education, where these themes may not be sufficiently visible. If society does not engage with them systematically, it is difficult to expect everyday situations to evolve differently. Perhaps this is where the question of integration as a system arises: whether it helps people find their place or leaves them suspended amid these contradictions.
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Editor: Marcus Turovski








