Recently I drove around the shores of Lake Peipus. I was on Estonia's longest food street, the nearly 30‑kilometre road from Raja village to Rannapungerja. This road is lined with dozens of places selling fish, cucumbers and onions. There, small entrepreneurs always operate with overflowing cheerfulness. They have always had a smile on their face and a warm recommendation at hand to buy fish or cucumbers.

But now… Now I experienced fear and despair instead. The sellers complained that their years‑long work in developing Peipus food culture has been ruined. Offers of smoked fish and freshly salted cucumbers have been turned into something criminal.

This is exactly how the roadside sellers understood the Transport Administration's anti‑sign campaign. Officials disparaged and threatened those who dared to place a sign with the name of their goods by the road. It seemed that if you wrote "smoked fish" or "onion" on a placard, you were a criminal. At the same time, the Transport Administration did not have a single fact at hand about any major traffic danger caused by the signs.

Thus, the zeal of some officials in interpreting a ten‑year‑old legal provision had turned into a kind of foolishness. This is exactly what the sellers and buyers disturbed by the disparagement of signs thought.

Against this background, I began to think that perhaps we should have some kind of inverted award. Some fake honour, to remember the characters who mess up life in Estonia. How to mark those whose actions public opinion considers zeal that turns into over‑zealous foolishness? How to calm officials who prefer dull action over thinking with their own head? Perhaps create an order to restrain nonsense?

And the idea was born. Let the unique award be the Order of Nonsense. And the first laureates should be those who managed to frighten the small entrepreneurs who placed signs along the roadside.

But that is not all. The Order of Nonsense should probably also be given to officials of the Ministry of Education who managed to frighten schools so much that educational institutions gave up educating children in theatres and museums. The reason was fear that collecting ticket money, which had gone on for decades, was illegal. The Estonian Museums Association pointed out that in nearly half of the 40 museums surveyed at the end of last year, the number of ordered programs had fallen by a third due to the intimidation.

The conclusion: zeal in fighting for museum visits for underprivileged families resulted in tens of thousands of euros in losses for theatres and museums. Not to mention the knowledge and emotions children missed out on. Should an Order of Nonsense be given for that?

But that too is not all. The echo of the great sign war had not yet faded when rural people received harsh news. Namely, if you have more than half a hectare of field, you must register it. It does not matter whether you grow potatoes, carrots or peas. Registration is required, and then inspections may follow!

Those who remember history came out with the bitter realization that the requirement to register fields once marked the beginning of branding Estonian farmers as kulaks during Soviet times. This eventually led to deportation to cold lands. One way or another, one order would probably go to those who initiated the current field registration.

But that too is not all. Participants in the gymnastics festival "The Charm of Rural Life" were reprimanded when they dared to enter the stadium with plastic bags, disposable dishes or plastic bottles. According to performers, even those who had a muesli bar in plastic wrapping or yogurt in a tetrapak bought from a store were scolded upon entering the stadium. As if they were carrying goods banned in Estonia. If this was not green zeal turning into green nonsense, then what was it?

And here is my modest suggestion to everyone who does not wish to receive the Order of Nonsense. Think with your own head. Honestly, it does not hurt — it is rather pleasant.

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