Ruhnu residents sought to join Sweden after Estonia regained independence

In 1920 and 1921, the residents of Ruhnu asked the King of Sweden to allow the island to unite with Sweden. When that failed, the people of Ruhnu used the territorial dispute between Estonia and Latvia as leverage to negotiate special rights from the Estonian state.
Until now, Ruhnu's incorporation into Estonia has primarily been viewed through the lens of the territorial dispute between Estonia and Latvia. However, new research by historian Mart Kuldkepp shows that the island's fate was shaped by more than just diplomacy between states. The Swedish-speaking community of a few hundred residents played an active role in the negotiations, skillfully taking advantage of competing Estonian, Latvian and Swedish interests to secure a number of special rights from the newly established Estonian state.
Kuldkepp said the broad outlines of Ruhnu's story were already known in Estonian historiography, but they have generally been examined from the perspective of the states involved. "It has generally been understood that there was some kind of disagreement with Latvia over the question of Ruhnu — which country it should belong to. I wanted to take a closer look at the story, but not only from the Estonian and Latvian perspectives. I also wanted to examine it from the perspective of the people of Ruhnu themselves and how they tried to protect and advance their own interests in that situation," Kuldkepp explained.
The research was prompted by previously unused sources discovered in the Swedish National Archives: petitions sent by the people of Ruhnu to the King of Sweden in 1920 and 1921. In them, the islanders asked to be allowed to unite with Sweden. That led Kuldkepp to ask how the people of Ruhnu themselves sought to navigate the situation.
In addition to the Swedish archives, Kuldkepp drew on Estonian archival materials, contemporary newspapers and, to a lesser extent, Latvian sources. According to him, combining perspectives from different countries ultimately made it possible to place the community itself at the center of the story. "If you look only at Estonian or Swedish materials, the picture is incomplete. Examining the issue from multiple directions made it possible to bring the islanders themselves more clearly into focus," he said.
An island living by its own laws
Ruhnu differed from every other Coastal Swedish community. It was the only entirely Swedish-speaking settlement in Estonia and had been part of Livonia for centuries. Even more important, however, was the island's extraordinary isolation. "During the winter, it was almost impossible to reach the island. Pack ice formed around it, blocking all traffic. There are stories about how even the biggest political developments did not reach the island until much later," the historian said.
As a result, the Russian imperial authorities maintained only a limited presence on the island. "The Russian Empire did not have the administrative capacity to ensure that taxes were properly collected there, that military conscripts were drafted or that all official regulations were followed," Kuldkepp said.
This led the people of Ruhnu to believe they had a historic right to live independently. They considered the privileges granted to them during the Swedish era to still be in force. "They had their own understanding of Swedish law, believing they lived under old Swedish-era laws. They believed the King of Sweden had once granted them certain privileges and that those privileges remained valid," he said.
That shaped the community's identity and fostered a sense that they enjoyed a special status. Kuldkepp said they saw themselves as, in a sense, superior to other Coastal Swedes and even to Estonians.
While the birth of the independent Republic of Estonia marked a new beginning for most Estonians, Kuldkepp said the situation was the opposite for the people of Ruhnu. Whereas the republic created new opportunities for most Coastal Swedes, the people of Ruhnu felt they had taken a step backward.
The reason was straightforward. "They had become accustomed to living separately. They did as they pleased and no one bothered them very much. Then, all of a sudden, the Republic of Estonia arrives and begins establishing state authority there, telling them that they too have to pay taxes, that they can no longer simply take timber from state forests for free and that their way of life has to change," he said, describing the situation that sparked resistance.
As a result, the people of Ruhnu felt something was being taken away from them. "Today, people talk about privilege blindness — the idea that if you've long enjoyed a privileged position, losing those privileges feels unfair. The attitude of the people of Ruhnu was much the same," Kuldkepp said.
The people of Ruhnu did not stop at protesting. They quickly realized that the dispute between Estonia and Latvia over ownership of the island gave them room to negotiate. "They managed to take advantage of that circumstance. They could always say that if we don't like things in the Republic of Estonia, perhaps we'll vote for Latvia instead," the historian said.
That forced the Estonian state to seek compromises. Kuldkepp believes this is where the political savvy of the people of Ruhnu becomes clear. "When you have a small community of a few hundred people living a fairly traditional lifestyle on an isolated island, you might assume they were not thinking in terms of high politics. But I think they actually were, to a considerable extent," he said.
According to Kuldkepp, Estonian officials also recognized the islanders' ability to turn the situation to their advantage. For example, Eduard Laaman, who later headed the Foreign Ministry's Information Bureau, wrote that while the people of Ruhnu gave the impression of being naïve, they in fact acted very deliberately.
Why Sweden?
In 1920, the people of Ruhnu appealed to the King of Sweden with a request to unite the island with Sweden. It was not a spur-of-the-moment idea. "The people of Ruhnu had always maintained relatively strong ties with Sweden. Whatever they did not receive from the Russian state, they certainly received from Sweden," Kuldkepp said. Sweden, for example, financed the construction of a new church, sent clergy to the island and provided Christmas gifts and other forms of assistance.
There was also exceptional interest in Ruhnu in Sweden. "From the Swedish perspective, Ruhnu was viewed almost like an ethnographic museum. It seemed as though the people there lived much the same way as the ancestors of modern Swedes had a thousand years earlier," Kuldkepp said.
That attitude, however, was contradictory. "In some ways it was paternalistic. The thinking was that too many modern innovations should not be introduced there and that the people should continue living their traditional way of life."
In response to the islanders' appeal, however, the Swedish government remained cautious. "It had no desire to become overly involved in what was happening on the eastern side of the Baltic Sea. It did not want to create a situation in which Sweden might later be drawn into some kind of conflict with Russia," the historian said.

Once Sweden had recognized Estonia's independence, the prospect of incorporating the island into Sweden became effectively impossible. The people of Ruhnu then adjusted their goals and instead sought to preserve their historic privileges within Estonia. They sent another letter outlining their requests.
The second petition proved successful. Sweden drew Estonia's attention to the wishes of the people of Ruhnu and concrete results soon followed. The islanders were granted the right to use state forests free of charge, were allowed to complete their compulsory military service on the island and several other special arrangements also remained in place.
The two sides, however, justified these arrangements differently. "The people of Ruhnu said these were their ancient rights. The Estonian state did not want to justify them that way," Kuldkepp said.
Instead, Estonia treated them as practical administrative decisions. "They could take timber from state forests free of charge, but not because it was an old privilege. Rather, it was because they also maintained the forests. Likewise, they were not exempted from compulsory military service; they were simply allowed to serve on their home island," Kuldkepp said, describing the state's position.
That allowed both sides to claim they had achieved what they wanted. "For the people of Ruhnu, it meant they could say they had secured what they wanted. For the Estonian state, it meant these could be treated as administrative decisions that could be changed if necessary," he said.
Estonia buys Ruhnu's loyalty
Kuldkepp considers one of the most remarkable episodes to be the so-called seal blubber expedition of 1919. During the expedition, the Estonian state purchased seal blubber produced by the people of Ruhnu and, in return, supplied them with weapons. At the same time, Estonia established its authority on the island. "This is a part of the Republic of Estonia that was, in effect, bought into Estonian territory by giving the local residents something in return," he said.
According to Kuldkepp, it is difficult to find another comparable example in Estonian history. "I don't think there is another case from the early years of the Republic of Estonia where the loyalty of the local population was essentially bought in this way," he said. The people of Ruhnu later claimed they had been promised much more verbally at the time than the Estonian state ultimately confirmed in writing.
In Kuldkepp's view, the main significance of Ruhnu's story is that it challenges conventional ideas about the role of small communities in history. Historians often portray them merely as subjects of decisions made by larger states. In reality, they could actively influence the course of events themselves.
"It shows that a small community of just a few hundred people had genuine agency. They really were able to push through some of what they wanted under the circumstances that had emerged," he said.
Although Ruhnu never became part of Sweden or gained Åland-style autonomy, the community made almost the most of the brief window of opportunity available to it. "I don't know whether they were completely satisfied in the end, but they certainly had reason to be. That window of opportunity lasted only a few years and I think they made very good use of it. I'm not sure they could have done much better," Mart Kuldkepp said.

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Editor: Marcus Turovski












