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The colony of the colonized: theDuchy of Courland's Tobago colony andcontemporary Latvian national identityHarry C. Merritt aa Center for German and European Studies, GeorgetownUniversity, Washington, DC, USA

Available online: 23 Jun 2010

To cite this article: Harry C. Merritt (2010): The colony of the colonized: the Duchy of Courland'sTobago colony and contemporary Latvian national identity, Nationalities Papers, 38:4, 491-508

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The colony of the colonized: the Duchy of Courland’s Tobago colonyand contemporary Latvian national identity

Harry C. Merritt∗

Center for German and European Studies, Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA

(Received 3 November 2009; final version received 24 March 2010)

This paper examines the legacy of the Duchy of Courland’s overseas colony of Tobagoas it relates to present-day Latvian national identity using the ethno-symbolist approachof Anthony D. Smith and comparative cases. As Latvia is a small nation that has beenan independent nation-state for only two short periods, national legitimacy and pridepose particular problems for Latvians. To this end, Latvian historians have workedto reinterpret the Baltic German-dominated Duchy of Courland as a positive periodof Latvian national history and have sought to emphasize ethnic Latvianinvolvement in the Duchy’s colonial endeavors, especially on the island of Tobago.Their efforts have then filtered into the general Latvian consciousness throughbooks, film, plays, and place names. Since Latvia’s independence from the USSR,the former colony of Tobago has gained renewed importance for Latvians who areexperiencing a widely perceived notion of postcolonialism. This paper concludesthat the appropriated colony of Tobago will continue to rise in importance as acomponent of Latvian national identity.

Keywords: Latvia; Tobago; Duchy of Courland; historiography; colonialism

Introduction

Travelers from Western Europe or North America in the northeastern European country of

Latvia may be bemused by certain aspects of Latvian history and culture that they encoun-

ter there. Perhaps most baffling for new visitors unfamiliar with the history of the area

might be repeated encounters with the term “Tobago.” This word, the name of the Carib-

bean island of Tobago transliterated into Latvian orthography, commonly appears as the

name of a business or as a prominently advertised vacation destination in the window

of a travel agency. By questioning the locals, a visitor may discover that these references

to Tobago allude to a period when it was colonized by an early modern German principal-

ity, the Duchy of Courland, located in present-day Latvia. Although modern Latvia is

ostensibly removed by several degrees from this small Duchy and its colonial ventures,

Tobago has been incorporated into the Latvian historical narrative and has subsequently

been appropriated as a national symbol in contemporary Latvian culture.

By utilizing the ethno-symbolist theory of Anthony D. Smith as well as comparative

cases to analyze works by Latvian historians and allusions to Tobago in Latvian

popular culture, this paper argues that the repeated referencing of Tobago reflects a

process of building Latvian national identity. In particular, Smith’s notion of “appropria-

tion” informs both the usage of the Tobago colony specifically and the development of

Latvian national identity in general. With its colonies, the seventeenth-century Duchy

ISSN 0090-5992 print/ISSN 1465-3923 online

# 2010 Association for the Study of Nationalities

DOI: 10.1080/00905992.2010.482131

http://www.informaworld.com

∗Email: harry.c.merritt@gmail.com

Nationalities Papers

Vol. 38, No. 4, July 2010, 491–508

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of Courland can be re-envisioned by Latvians as another “golden age” for their nation

outside of the distant past or twentieth century. Additionally, the freedoms granted to set-

tlers of the Courlander colony on Tobago provide a template by which ethnic Latvians

could have become enfranchised members of the Duchy, not unlike other multinational

European states in the age of colonial expansion. The parallel toponymy on Tobago –

of place names taken from Latvia – also provides a basis for the reinterpretation of the

island as a place of contemporary national significance to Latvians. Gradually, through

memorialization on and the organization of pilgrimages to Tobago, the importance of

the Tobago colony to Latvian national identity has been growing. Finally, the significance

of the Duchy of Courland’s Tobago colony to the Latvian national narrative has increased

immensely following Latvian independence from the Soviet Union. With the widespread

perception in Latvia that the country was a victim of colonialism under Soviet rule, the

existence of a historical “Latvian” colony helps to mitigate the negative postcolonial feel-

ings of the present.

Historical overview of Courland and Latvia

The Duchy of Courland and Semigallia is named for the two Baltic tribes which inhabited

its territory, the Couronians and Semigallians.1 Following conquest by German knights in

the Northern Crusades, the Latvian tribes became serfs tied to feudal lords, while ethnic

Germans formed the bulk of the nobility, clergy, and town-dwelling burghers. Seculariza-

tion of the Livonian Order and the end of the Livonian War led to the creation of this rump

territory – the Duchy of Courland – in 1582 that was ruled by the Kettler dynasty, des-

cended from the penultimate master of the Order. Though ostensibly subservient to the

Polish crown as a vassal state, the Duchy of Courland was the only independent state

during the early modern period to exist in what is today Latvia. For this reason it is of

great importance to Latvian historians.

At the time of its foundation, the Duchy of Courland contained about 200,000 inhabi-

tants in 27,000 square kilometers of territory, the vast majority of whom were ethnically

Latvian (Berkis, History of the Duchy 5). Despite possessing limited natural resources and

only marginally fertile soil, the Duchy was blessed with numerous waterways – including

the navigable Daugava, Lielupe, and Venta Rivers – as well as some of the northernmost

ice-free ports in the Baltic Sea, Ventspils and Liepaja. The capital was established at

Mitau, today known as Jelgava, centrally located in the Duchy and straddling the

Lielupe. By the seventeenth century the Duchy was following a modernizing course of

development mirroring both that of many of the Protestant principalities of Germany

and that of the Duchy’s emerging rival in international trade, the Dutch Republic.

Under Duke James Kettler2 (r. 1642–1682) the theories of mercantilism and the

Rechtsstaat were embraced, and the Duchy of Courland became a major player in both

regional and wider European affairs:

Two decades in the middle of the two hundred-year period of its existence brought to the smallDuchy prosperity and fame . . . First [Duke James] turned his attention to agriculture, thenatural basis of national wealth . . . He introduced modern methods of cultivation, drainage,seed selection, and the like. As a result, Kurland, a traditional grain exporter, also becamean exporter of animal products such as meat, butter, fat and wool. Farm yields rose consider-ably . . . He founded an iron industry, based first on domestic bog-ore, but later, as the require-ments grew, on imported Swedish ore. A steel industry developed in the capital, and otherbranches of industry came into being, such as gunpowder plants, arms factories, glass andsoap factories, paper and textile mills and workshops for the manufacture of sails andrigging. Sawmills appeared in the forest districts. (Spekke 229)

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The Duchy also amassed an impressive merchant and war fleet rivaling that of all but the

greatest maritime powers, numbering at its peak “44 armed and 15 unarmed men-of-war,

60 big merchant ships, and in addition a number of smaller vessels” (Spekke 229). Duke

James, who already had acquired the rights to exploit mines located in Norway, then

moved to establish the Duchy as a true overseas colonial power, gaining a foothold in

every corner of the so-called Triangular trade.3

In 1639, Duke James negotiated the rights to the Caribbean island of Tobago with King

Charles I of England, whose father James I was Duke James’s own godfather. The island,

located in the Lesser Antilles, had up to that point been ignored by the Spanish, while the

English and Dutch had previously enjoyed little success in settling Tobago. Though the

initial attempts at colonization ended in failure, in 1654 the Courlanders at last established

permanent settlements on Tobago, renaming it New Courland (Jekabson-Leimanis 37).4

Concurrently, in 1651, the duke purchased from local native rulers St. Andrew’s Island,

later renamed James Island, and a number of other islets and plots at the mouth of the

River Gambia in West Africa (Berkis, History of the Duchy 77). In many ways the

Duchy followed the established colonial model of the time: shipping raw materials

from its colonies back to Europe, slaves from Gambia to Tobago, and manufactured

goods from Courland to the colonies. However, the duke’s innovative manner of thinking

as well as the small population of Courland led to a policy that allowed numerous foreign

colonists – mostly English and Zeeland Dutch – to settle in Courland’s colonies as long as

they swore loyalty to the duke. By 1658, the populace of Tobago numbered approximately

25,000 people – “700 Courlander families (totaling no more than 4,500 people), 7,000

foreigners . . . 500 soldiers and 13,000 slaves from . . . the Gambia” (Jekabson-Leimanis

37). The already small population of native Caribs5 fluctuated as a result of disease and

frequent movement between the nearby islands; additionally, armed conflict would

occasionally arise between the colonists and Caribs. However, excepting the African

slaves, everyone who settled in New Courland, no matter their origin, was treated as a

freeman and entitled to approximately 30 hectares of land.

The colonial policy of Duke James eventually proved untenable as a result of inter-

national conflict involving the colonies, war in the Baltic region, and imperial overreach

by the small duchy. Despite officially recognizing Duke James’s claim to Tobago, the

Dutch, having inaugurated their own colony on the southern shore of the island, sought to

seize New Courland for themselves. As the 1650s dragged on, the international situation

became ever less fortunate for the Duchy; beyond Courland’s limited military capacity,

Duke James’s closeness to the House of Stuart in general made neutrality difficult during

the English Civil War and Anglo-Dutch Wars. In 1658, after the Swedish army invaded

Courland and captured Duke James, the Dutch seized the opportunity to conquer Courland’s

colonies. The Gambia was permanently lost, captured by the Dutch – who subsequently

ceded the territory to the English. These events decisively weakened the military means

and international prestige of the Duchy (Berkis, History of the Duchy 95).

Though the Peace of Oliva officially returned Tobago to the duke in 1660, the island

remained out of the effective control of the Duchy for the next two decades. During this

period Duke James sought to resettle Tobago and also in the meantime attempted to

acquire other Caribbean islands. In 1680 control of Tobago was restored de facto to the

duke, and a year later he even nearly acquired Trinidad from Spain, which would have

been renamed New Semigallia (Berkis, History of the Duchy 153–54).6 Emblematic of

the veritably megalomaniacal goals of Courlander colonial policy, the duke even con-

cocted a quixotic scheme to colonize Australia with the support of the papacy, despite

being a devout Lutheran himself. Not surprisingly, this idea never came to fruition.

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During this period, direct control of Tobago was sporadic and was finally fully lost by

1693. Duke James’s successors in the Kettler dynasty tried fruitlessly to recover the

colony, and Courlander governors of the island would continue to be appointed until

1795, when Courland was annexed to Russia. Colonial competition for Tobago continued

without Courland’s participation and Great Britain eventually won the struggle for supre-

macy over the island. Tobago remained a British colony until its joint independence with

Trinidad in 1962.

The prosperity of Courland under Duke James was, like its colonial possessions, to slip

away after his reign. During the eighteenth century the Great Northern War, the extinction

of the Kettler dynasty, and the decline of its protector, Poland-Lithuania, all signaled the

imminent demise of the Duchy of Courland. Russia, which had long had designs on the

territory, finally annexed it as part of the Third Partition of Poland in 1795. Courland

would remain a governorate of the Russian Empire until 1918, when it became one of

four provinces of the newly independent Latvian state.

Latvian historiography of Courland and Tobago

The appropriation of the Tobago colony as part of Latvian national history by Latvian his-

torians was made possible in part by the rehabilitation of the Duchy of Courland under

Duke James as a positive era in Latvian national history, similar to the favorable views

that Latvian historians hold of Swedish rule. Latvian historiography has followed a distinct

pattern during its entire existence as a school of thought. Until the twentieth century, the

history of the territory today known as Latvia was written almost exclusively by Germans

from the Baltic region or Germany proper. Following Latvian independence in the after-

math of World War I, a conscious effort emerged in which the history of the Latvian

nation, or tauta,7 would be reexamined and rewritten by Latvians. Newly founded insti-

tutions such as the University of Latvia, Latvian National Archive, and Latvian Institute

of History – established in 1919, 1919, and 1936 respectively – provided the training

and a resource base for a distinctively Latvian cadre of historians (Plakans, “Looking

Backward” 293). Indeed, this agenda is made explicit by the editor of the Institute’s

journal in its first issue in 1937:

. . . [Latvian historians] will of course use the same sources which have been published byBaltic [German] historians. Latvian historians will read these sources not only to studythem, but also to analyze them and to draw from them information about Latvians so as tobuild a history of Latvians . . . But the biggest task still lies ahead: to find new, heretoforeunrecognized historical sources about Latvians, to use them and to publish them. We willstudy our past in the spirit of nationalism, looking at it with the eyes of Latvian historians.(Qtd. in Plakans, “Looking Backward” 293)

Though the Latvian state would survive for only three more years before its occupation

and annexation by the USSR, this framework for writing would endure among various

Latvian emigre circles during the postwar period.

Under reexamination by Latvian historians, the period of Swedish rule in Livonia

during the seventeenth century was the first to have been reconceived by Latvian

writers as a golden age in Latvian national history. Swedish administration in Livonia

brought with it regulations improving the lot of the Latvian peasantry both in terms of stan-

dard of living and legal protection, as well as a university in Dorpat8 and a series of paro-

chial schools that were open to Latvians. Interwar Latvian historians like Arnolds Spekke

would supplement their policy analysis of Swedish Livonia with opinions such as “For

obvious reasons the peasants of Swedish Livonia grew very fond of the Swedish king

[Charles XI] and the Swedish government . . . from the Latvian point of view he

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appears as a pleasant dream” (218). This style is echoed by contemporary Latvian histor-

ians like Guntars Abols, who claim that early modern Latvia underwent a “spiritual renais-

sance” that was in part caused by “the dawn of the ‘Swedish century’ which stands out for

the rule of law and of the quest for social justice” (57). Edgar Anderson explicitly labeled

Swedish rule in Livonia a “golden age,” stating that “during the generally dark centuries of

domination by foreign powers, the Latvians considered the Swedish rule as the ‘golden

age’ . . .” (sic) (Latvia 22). Sympathetic portrayals of Swedish rule abound among

Latvian scholars in part due to the greater agency accorded to Latvian peasants but also

to separate this period from the negatively perceived rule of the Baltic Germans and

Imperial Russia.

Similar to Latvian historiography of Swedish Livonia, the Duchy of Courland has been

over time reexamined and reinterpreted as a positive period of national development by

Latvian historians. Writing in 1969, emigre historian Alexander Valdonis Berkis con-

cluded that thus far “Only some competent Balt-German historians contributed to the his-

torical research of the history of the Duchy of Courland” (History of the Duchy vii). As the

discipline developed during the interwar and postwar periods, many Latvian historians

noted the disproportionate level of prosperity and development achieved in Courland

under rather unfavorable conditions. Abols extended the positive connotations of the

Swedish golden age by arguing that “Swedish Livonia was not alone in this spiritual

renaissance. From the new Duchy of Courland (Kurzeme) several generations of pastors

emerged who produced work which was important in the evolution of the Latvian

language” (59). Spekke, who had served in the Latvian diplomatic service during the

1930s, drew parallels between the Duchy’s efforts at strict neutrality in the seventeenth

and eighteenth centuries and Latvia’s own foreign policy of the interwar period; “Duke

Jacob, in particular, had a liking for this system of repeated declarations of neutrality

which reminds us of the unsuccessful endeavors of Latvia in recent years” (224). He

further argued that “the Kurland peasant lived in better conditions and was better off

than his brothers in Livonia,” whether under Polish, Russian, or even Swedish rule

(236). On Duke James specifically, Berkis proclaims that “In an age of great religious

intolerance, the Duke of Courland always preferred the political interests and the

welfare of his subjects” (Duke James 82). By contrast, other periods of history of

foreign rule over Latvians – such as that of the German crusading orders, the Polish–

Lithuanian Commonwealth, and the Russian Empire – have been interpreted largely in

a negative manner by Latvian historians. Only Swedish Livonia had been treated with

strong tones of sympathy and even pride, an interpretation that was later applied to the

Duchy of Courland, especially for the period of Duke James’s rule.

As the Duchy of Courland was reclaimed by Latvian historians as a period of Latvian

national development, so too has Courland’s colonial venture in Tobago been reinterpreted

through the prism of Latvian identity. The subject had been underexplored in academia,

with only a few historians from the UK, the Netherlands, and Latvia giving it any

serious attention. Furthermore, according to Karin Jekabson-Leimanis, even the limited

work published on the subject is riddled with inaccuracies, especially with regard to

dates (25–26). Latvian emigre authors responded to this dearth of study on the Courlander

colonial ventures with a number of articles and books during the postwar era. Berkis, a

Latvian who settled in the US, published two works in the 1960s in English: The Reign

of Duke James in Courland, 1638–1682, followed by The History of the Duchy of Cour-

land (1561–1795). Though these works use overlapping sources and sections of the latter

are quite evidently paraphrased from the former, together they represent an attempt to

present the Latvian perspective of this period to an international audience.

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Berkis’ account covers the history of the colony thoroughly and takes every opportu-

nity to highlight perceived Latvian aspects of the endeavor. When describing geography,

he always mentions the Latvian version of place names, even if anachronistic. For

example, Berkis states that “Around [Tobago’s] Fort James gradually developed James-

town (Jacobusstadt or Jekabpils)” (Duke James 77). Though he notes the large contingent

of foreigners brought by Duke James to settle the colony, Berkis provides the reader with a

logic by which some of these could have been ethnic Latvians:

The duke invited his enterprising peasants to colonize Tobago. The farm hands had an interestin immigrating to the colonies, for James granted his serfs the status of freemen in the case ofcolonization. The former serfs of the ducal domains not only became freemen, but also theowners of Negro slaves. (Duke James 77)

Such a situation would compare very favorably with other contemporaneous European

settlers, who often were obliged to migrate to the Caribbean as indentured servants,

even if they had been freemen in the metropole. Berkis is also quick to add that “The fer-

tility of the soil and the rather mild climate for Europeans promoted the establishment of

plantations and the colonization of the island” but “Negro slaves were treated rather huma-

nely” (Duke James 78). Combined with a detailed description of Tobago’s industries and

economy, the intended message seems to be that New Courland was a model colony to

which Latvians previously held down by serfdom could relocate to achieve prosperity

and self-actualization.

The first major works focusing specifically on the Courlander colony in Tobago itself

were written by an emigre historian and key figure in the field of Baltic Studies in the

West, Edgar Anderson.9 In 1956 Anderson submitted a PhD dissertation entitled “The Cour-

onians and the West Indies,” which focused on international diplomacy surrounding the

Courlander colony and the logistics of the endeavor. Following an “expedition” to the

island in 1960, Anderson published a shorter German-language volume that same year;

this work, Tobago, focused more on topography and featured an addendum on the legacy

of the colony. This was followed by what may be considered his magnum opus, an expanded

account of Courland’s colonization of Tobago that combined elements of both previous

works, published in Latvian in Sweden in 1970 with an abstract at the end in English

titled The Ancient Couronians in America and the Colonization of Tobago. The latter two

works begin with a topographical tour of the island – “doubtless the most beautiful and in

addition one of the most fertile islands in the Caribbean Sea” – making note of its various

place names (Tobago 212, auth. trans.). The reader is thereby gradually introduced to the sur-

viving Tobagonian toponyms originating in Courland: Little Courland Bay, Great Courland

Bay, the Courland River, Fort James, Fort Casimir, and Kalpi Bay (Tobago 217–23).10

Though generally measured in tone, when examining names and symbols, Anderson is

often prone to speculation on potential Latvian origins. For example, when naming various

bays and inlets of the island, Anderson pauses at Conek Point, “which sound [sic] like the

name of the offsprings [sic] of ancient Couronian Latvian noble families who lived in sep-

arate settlements in Lower Courland, Koning, konini” (“The Couronians and the West

Indies” 141). He describes how in James Fort “there was a gatehouse with an elaborate

porch painted red and white (national Couronian as well [sic] Latvian colors)”; nearby

stood “a beautiful church building, white, with a red tiled roof and a Gothic steeple

topped by a weathercock and a cross, an anomaly characteristic of Latvian churches”

(143). In his discussion of the final years of the Courlander colony, Anderson hints at a

counterfactual argument implying that the colony could have been bound for greatness

under continued Courlander rule:

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The Dukes of Courland made several agreements with English and Dutch companies to colo-nize Tobago. Those signed in 1681 and 1698 are particularly interesting because of the demo-cratic principles of self-government, such as the freedom of meetings and assemblies, freedomof trade and freedom of religion, incorporated in them. Tobago might thus have become acolonial republic with a local diet (the treaty of 1698 mentioned even a parliament consistingof two houses) under the auspices of the Dukes of Courland. Professor Moses Stringer in hispetition of 1704 even promised to found a college in Tobago. (“The Couronians and the WestIndies” 362)

Such a description conjures images of Tobago as one of the American Thirteen Colonies

in miniature, even if the proposals raised after 1690 had no real chance of being

implemented. Anderson concludes each of these works with some reference to the

lasting impact of the colony. Appropriately, his briefer German volume ends by reiterating

the legacy of Courlander place names, adding “Courland Point, Courland Estate, [and]

James (Jakob’s) Point” to the list (Tobago 219).

Of course, even a benevolent and talented duke and a few transferred place names from

Courland cannot on their own be appropriated to convincingly make the colony of Tobago a

part of Latvian national history. There also need to have been ethnically Latvian colonists

who settled on the island. To further the difficulty of this task, Latvian historians had to

counter the well-established historiography of the Baltic Germans. Historians like Otto

Heinz Mattiesen insisted that the colonization efforts by Courland were organized solely

by ethnic Germans with limited foreign support and that “there had never been any Latvians

in Tobago” (qtd. in Anderson, “The Couronians and the West Indies” 146). Latvian histo-

rians such as Edgars Dunsdorfs have long taken exception to this, asserting that “the only

way one could know about the population of colonists is through some known recorded

names of colonists” however, “non-specialists cannot tell whether these are Latvian

names, and no philologist has yet analyzed them,” leaving open the possibility of ethnically

Latvian colonists (61, auth. trans.). Dunsdorfs further posits that there is a good chance that

Latvians inhabited Tobago, since “the Dukes [of Courland] sent Latvian peasants to their

European colony [actually a series of leased mines from the Danish king] in Norway,”

and advocates further research into the identity of the Courlander colonists who settled

in Tobago (62, auth. trans.). Edgar Anderson remarks that the “names of eighteen burghers

of Jacobusstadt are known . . . [they] indicate Dutch, German, Latvian, English and even

Slavic origin” (“The Couronians and the West Indies” 144). He attempts to steer a

middle course between Baltic German and Latvian nationalists, who each tend to insist

that the colony was entirely Germanic or Latvian in character, by emphasizing the

Duchy of Courland’s – and by extension its colony’s – multinationality:

The fact is that the duke was German-born, most of the nobles, army officers and good numberof master craftsmen were Germans, but the majority of the people were Latvians. Most of thecaptains and sailors were Dutch or Scandinavian, many artisans were foreigners or Latvians,and many colonists were neither Latvians nor Germans. The number of Latvian colonists wassmall, their influence was insignificant and they could not adapt themselves easily to tropicalconditions. (“The Couronians and the West Indies” 147)

But Anderson’s more nuanced view has not prevailed among Latvian historians. A more

recent work by Karin Jekabson-Leimanis delved further into analysis of the surnames of

colonial burghers:

Five of the men listed below were Courlanders. The first name Jan I. Mulke, [sic] is the[Latvian] name “Janis Mulkis”. Burres is “Burvim” or in the dialect form “Buris”, also aLatvian surname. Also Jan Brewer is “Janis Bruveris”. Kennisch and Perkens take on theLatvian written form “Kenins” and “Perkons”. There is no further information concerningthese colonists. (37)11

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These suppositions by Jekabson-Leimanis are hardly certain; one could just as easily

speculate that these names signify English, Dutch, or some other sort of Germanic

ethnic origin. Another book first published in Latvia in 1993 claims that “Still present

[on Tobago] are whites with Latvian names, for example, Lıvs, Kurs, Malers, Libauers,

Lets and others . . . In the same way many mulattos today consist in part of Latvian

blood” (Bundurs 17, auth. trans.). No source is given for these names. Despite the restraint

and rigor used by some scholars when approaching the limited data as to demographics of

Courland’s colony on Tobago, works by both professional and amateur historians have fil-

tered down into the general consciousness of the Latvian people, and it has since become

an assumption among the Latvian public that the colony was significantly Latvian in

culture and population.

Tobago in Latvian culture

The efforts by Latvian historians both at home and abroad to claim the Duchy of Courland

and its colonial endeavors as part of Latvian national history have all followed the frame-

work of Latvian historiography as previously outlined, accumulating over the years into

quite a collection of professional and amateur works. Judging by their impact on

Latvian national consciousness, these endeavors have been quite fruitful. Tobago has

become quite prominent as a motif in Latvian culture, illustrated in a number of literary

and cinematic works produced in the postwar era. During the interwar period of Latvian

independence, these expressions were somewhat limited as depictions of Tobago were

just making their way into the history books, one of which was a 1935 volume on the

Dukes of Courland by historian Juris Juskevics. A popular novel entitled Tobago was pub-

lished in the 1930s by Aleksandrs Grıns; it is described as “a rich fantasy which integrates

a fictitious account of Latvian colonists’ life in the distant West Indian island” (Anderson,

Senie kurzemnieki Amerika 340, auth. trans.).

The former Latvian colonies also inspired several highly publicized journeys by Lat-

vians. In 1933, Latvian pilot Herberts Cukurs embarked on a solo flight to the Gambia in a

plane he constructed himself (Anderson, Latvia 449). In accomplishing this feat, Cukurs

became a celebrity comparable to Charles Lindbergh or the Lithuanian-American aviators

Steponas Darius and Starys Girenas, though he is remembered internationally primarily

for his involvement in the murder of Latvian Jews during World War II. Two years

later, a pair of Latvian naval officers, Mikelis Plesums and Janis Ozolins, took leave

from their duties to embark on a sailing expedition. Plesums and Ozolins made a treacher-

ous round trip across the Atlantic between Latvia and Tobago in a small sailboat and were

also celebrated by the Latvian public for their exploits (Anderson, Latvia 449).

Annexation to the Soviet Union and the traumatic experience of World War II drasti-

cally altered the face of Latvian society. Drastic as this was, these changes did not spell the

end of the Tobago motif. As dramatic evidence of its flexibility, the symbol of Tobago was

even repurposed for use in a Soviet Latvian film. The 1965 film “Tobago” Changes its

Course12 was directed by popular filmmaker Aleksandrs Leimanis, best known today

for a series of historical adventure films he directed in the 1970s (O’Connor 181). In

this particular film, Tobago is the name of a Latvian merchant ship out at sea during

the summer of 1940. The ship’s owner had left port in fear of the imminent collapse of

the Ulmanis regime.13 Also on board, however, is a crewman named Drezins who is a

member of an underground communist organization (“‘Tobago’ Changes its Course”).

Upon learning that Soviet power had been established in Latvia, Drezins rallies the

crew, who then eponymously decide to change course for home. Despite being a typical

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Soviet film of that era with its subject and content mediated through Marxist-Leninist

ideology, the film is based on a true story and furthermore illustrates that even the

Soviet Union could make use of the theme of Tobago. From the film, Latvians are

meant to conclude that the distant paradise of Tobago has been superseded in importance

now that the workers’ paradise has been established at home.

Latvian independence in 1991 brought with it a much greater degree of freedom to

explore and celebrate various historical eras. Tobago quickly became a positive and

exotic word association for a business, and in the nearly two decades following Latvian

independence this toponym has been applied to a variety of establishments. In Jelgava,

the former capital of the Dukes of Courland, there is a “Tobago Kafe.” In Ventspils, a

former port of the Duchy from which ships bound for the colonies once departed, a shop-

ping mall named “TOBAGO” has been erected.14 Ventspils is also home to a travel agency

named “Tobago” (Reznik-Martov 4). Despite never having belonged to the Duchy of

Courland, Riga has its own prominent local establishment referencing the Tobago

colony, the Tobago Casino Club, located in Riga’s Old Town. The website of the

Tobago Casino Club discusses in detail “the legend” of the colony, in which Latvian pea-

sants were told tales of distant Tobago before setting off as colonists – “Fertile land, no

lords, every individual his own master. A unique paradise . . .” (“Tobago Sala,” auth.

trans.). Near the conclusion of its somewhat sensationalized history of the Courland

colony on Tobago, the website further speculates that on Tobago and in the Gambia

today there could be “little completely black Janises and Baibas scampering about . . .

mournfully murmuring Latvian folk songs. Not understanding a single word, but murmur-

ing . . .” (“Tobago Sala,” auth. trans.).15 One of the most recent business developments

referencing Tobago is an eponymous apartment complex under construction in a lush

setting in the Riga suburb of Zolitude; once completed, the apartments are likely to be

some of the most modern and deluxe in Riga (“Latvian Firm Develops”). Tobago has

thus become a prominent symbol representing exoticness, luxury, and a lost glorious

era; its increasing ubiquity in public spaces in Latvia continues to reinforce the island

as a part of Latvian history and identity.

The Duchy of Courland’s colonial adventure in Tobago was also made the subject of a

play by well-known playwright Mara Zalıte. Debuting at Riga’s Daile Theater in 2001,

Tobago! is described by its author as “a tragic musical composed according to real

events” (Zalıte 171, auth. trans.). The story, written and performed in the vanishing

Ventini dialect of northwestern Courland, blends the history of Courland and its colony

with fictional elements from the playwright’s imagination. The plot follows the parallel

stories of Duke James and his wife Louise Charlotte and ordinary Latvian Courlanders.

As potential Latvian colonists excitedly discuss the possibilities on the island, the

chorus repeats the word “Tobago,” occasionally adding phrases such as “Happy is he

who reaches there” and “A fragrant, enchanting garden” (Zalıte 200–01, auth. trans.).

Once on Tobago, however, what the colonists encounter is both disillusioning and

surreal. Scenes involving the legendary king of the native Arawak tribe and the island’s

most famous fictional resident, Robinson Crusoe, are complemented with an invasion

by the Dutch, led by real historical figure Hubert de Beveren. Responding to Beveren’s

proclamation that “Courland has fallen” to the Swedish army and that the Dutch will be

taking control of Tobago, the Latvian colonists retort that “Courland will again be

free!” and “Tobago [is] ours!” (Zalıte 277–81, auth. trans.).

Even the Latvian state has in some ways sanctioned and promoted the adoption of the

Tobago colony as part of Latvian national history. Archeological expeditions to Plymouth,

Tobago – the former Courlander settlement – sponsored by a museum in Ventspils have

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been funded by the Ventspils City Council (Baltic News Service). Prior to the formation of

official diplomatic relations between the two countries, Latvian President Vaira Vıke-Frei-

berga vacationed in Trinidad and Tobago at the invitation of President Arthur Robinson

(Chancery of the President of Latvia). When diplomatic relations were established in

2003, Latvian Ambassador to the UN Gints Jegermanis spoke of the “emotional bond

between the Latvian public and the island of Tobago” in his speech commemorating the

event (Ministry of Foreign Affairs Press Centre Division). Tobago was even mentioned

in an online article celebrating the 90th anniversary of the founding of the Republic of

Latvia. Ojars Kalnins, director of the Latvian Institute, opens his discussion on the

matter with a justification, stating, “No, no, the Republic of Latvia has never had colonies,

but they were held in the seventeenth century by the Duchy of Courland and now Courland

is today part of Latvia” (auth. trans.). But Kalnins then emphasizes the supposed Latvian

qualities of the venture: “Latvian sailors” built the Duchy’s ships, “Latvian sailors”

brought goods back to Jelgava from the “Dark Continent,” and “eighty Latvian families

settled on Tobago” (auth. trans.). As an official Latvian state-sponsored entity, the use

of such language by the Latvian Institute amounts to an endorsement by the state of the

Tobago colony as Latvian national history.

After decades of exposure to the Duchy of Courland’s colony of Tobago as part of the

Latvian national narrative in history books and in popular culture, today in Latvia it is not

uncommon to hear references to Tobago as a matter of national pride. A Portuguese jour-

nalist, Joao Lopes Marques, wrote a commentary piece for the Baltic Times detailing such

an encounter with a Latvian; when discussing the severe impact of the current global finan-

cial crisis on Latvia’s economy, he had the following exchange with a Latvian in Riga:

– “But did you know that once we had a colonial empire?” Inese, a proud Latvian local, chal-lenged me.– “Beg your pardon, I don’t understand . . .”– “Didn’t you know that Tobago island was ours?” (Marques 14)

After being taken by this local to the Tobago Casino Club and other shops in Riga featur-

ing the toponym, Marques admitted that Inese and Latvians like her knew their history

well but concluded that “this exquisite taste of mini-megalomania is part of the Latvian

genetic code” (14). Even if slightly dramatized, such a conversation is emblematic of

the continued prominence of Tobago in Latvian identity and national pride.

Latvian-Americans and Latvian-Canadians, many of whom settled in these countries

following the elimination of a sovereign and independent Latvian state in 1940, are

more conveniently positioned to travel to Tobago than their European counterparts.16

When choosing a tropical vacation destination, some ethnic Latvians in North America

choose to go the island in part because of its colonial past. Since 1991 the World Federa-

tion of Free Latvians, a diaspora umbrella group created during the Cold War, has spon-

sored annual trips to Tobago to celebrate the Midsummer holiday (Straumanis).17 Though

these trips sometimes feature as few as a dozen individuals at a time (Passionfruit), they

have operated nearly every year over the past two decades. For the 2010 Midsummer gath-

ering, a Latvian-Irish folk choir will even journey all the way to Tobago to perform for the

group (Latviesu Biedrıba Irija).

Additionally, some Latvians choose to travel to Tobago on their own. A Latvian-

American from Chicago named Andrejs Makwitz explains his reasoning for visiting

Tobago on his personal blog in the following way:

I chose Tobago for two reasons. The first being is that I needed a place to go diving and it isquickly developing a reputation as a major dive destination. The other is that as a birthday

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present for my Mom I decided to take her to one of Latvia’s only two former colonies.(Makwitz)

He further clarifies that “As a small nation few in numbers most Latvians get a kick out of

finding any traces of their culture or references to their nation in far off lands . . . Places

which do provide ties can often lead to pilgrimages of sorts” (Makwitz). Though the

ruins of James Fort and the town of Plymouth – which developed out of what was once

Jamestown – on their own served the purpose of pilgrimage sites quite well, memorializa-

tion has transformed the area into an official sacred space for Latvians. In 1978 a Latvian-

American sculptor named Janis Mintiks erected the Courland Monument on Great Cour-

land Bay near Plymouth; it consists of a series of geometrically arranged pillars and a

plaque that states: “In memory of the bold, enterprising and industrious Courlanders

from faraway Latvia on the Baltic Shores who had lived in this area named after them

from 1639 to 1693” (Allette 71).

Tobago as a function of Latvian national identity and nationalism

Anthony D. Smith has long been one of the main figures attempting to bridge the gap

between the “primordialist” and “modernist” schools of nationalism. His approach,

ethno-symbolism, theorizes that though nations are themselves essentially modern cre-

ations, they draw upon the pre-existing history of a demographic group. Smith posits

that there are three primary ways in which history may be utilized in nation building.

The first two, “recurrence” and “continuity,” are not applicable to Latvia. In the past

800 years, Latvians have governed their territory as a sovereign state for a mere four

decades, and only then during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Unlike its southern

neighbor Lithuania, which also developed out of proto-Baltic tribes, there is no precedent

for the existence of the Latvian state prior to 1918. Where the Lithuanians have their

medieval principality as well as the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth and a long list

of kings and victorious battles upon which to draw for the purposes of national pride, Lat-

vians can only reference non-Latvian rulers and a German elite for the entirety of pre-

modern history. Additionally, Latvians founded their nation-state effectively as a tabula

rasa, carrying over virtually no institutions from either Baltic German or Imperial

Russian rule.

Instead, Latvians have been left with the third of Smith’s means – “appropriation.”

Appropriation reflects “the tendency of later generations, especially of nationalists, to

rediscover, authenticate, and appropriate aspects of what they assume is ‘their’ ethnic

past” (Smith, The Nation in History 64). Similarly to Smith’s example of Finland, in

modern times Latvian national identity was constructed by compiling and codifying old

folk traditions. For example, the collection of local dainas, or folk songs, has done

much to strengthen national identity. Ironically, as in Finland where Swedes initiated

that process, Baltic Germans led the way in Latvia in the assemblage of the dainas. The

collection and publication of the dainas led to the composition of original works based

on them – though of a more explicitly national bent – such as Andrejs Pumpurs’ Lacplesis

and Rainis’ Uguns un Nakts. The continued importance of these dainas is illustrated by the

quinquennial Latvian Song and Dance Festival, which has been central to the national

movement in its various iterations as well as remaining immensely popular among

ethnic Latvians to this day. National independence from the Soviet Union was even

achieved through a non-violent popular mobilization commonly termed the “Singing

Revolution” (Tabuna 14). In this manner, local peasant folk traditions have been

adopted as a central and lasting element of Latvian national identity.

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But Smith also notes that not all communities are equally endowed with a “rich or

well-documented, and eventful, ethnic past”; in his estimation, “this unevenness of

ethno-historical cultural resources is itself a source of national competition and conflict”

(Myths and Memories 17). If a national “golden age” can exist only apart from foreign

domination, then Latvians are only left with the era before 1200 CE, of which there are

few records. Thus, as Latvians do not have an obvious pre-modern national history to com-

memorate and celebrate, they needed to selectively reclaim historical periods of foreign

rule as past Latvian golden ages. Rule by the Teutonic Order or Russian Empire did not

meet the conditions, as they represented the Latvian nation’s primary antagonists in the

twentieth century, beyond failing the test of producing relatively benevolent policies

toward the Latvian peasantry. As illustrated prior, Latvian historians have often con-

sidered the period of Swedish rule in Livonia a “golden age” of Latvian national

history. But the seventeenth century contained other suitable material for reconsideration

as well. Since the Duchy of Courland was the only independent state to exist in modern

Latvian territory in the early modern period, it was an appealing subject for Latvian his-

torians. Additionally, the miniature overseas colonial empire built by the Duchy provided

a promising example of a space where Latvians could be freed from serfdom and given the

opportunity to prosper. In this way, the island of Tobago acts as a conduit through which

hopes for a past golden age and for future prosperity can be channeled by Latvians.

The repeated efforts by Latvian historians to prove that ethnic Latvians must have been

among the Courland colony’s residents have made a lasting impression on Latvian popular

consciousness. Compared to the misery of feudalism for Latvian serfs back in the Baltic

region, Latvians on Tobago could have been burghers, landowners, and even the

masters of slaves of their own. Their Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church, with all

of the quaint local traits it possessed in Courland and Livonia, was established on the

island. Furthermore, there is the possibility that some of the European-descended populace

in Tobago could be in fact Latvian in origin, and thus connect through their heritage to

modern Latvia. One might also speculate, as the website of the Tobago Casino Club

does, that elements of Latvian culture could have been successfully passed on to the

island’s other residents. If indeed Afro-Caribbean denizens of Tobago today were

singing the dainas that are so central to Latvian identity, it would illustrate that more

than just parallel places names had endured, but also the parallel existence – and thus sur-

vival – of the language, culture, and customs of Latvia. This is all the more important

owing to Latvians’ own historical status as a colonized people. From the initial conquests

by the German crusading orders to the recent period of Soviet control, Latvians have felt

politically, economically, linguistically, and culturally colonized by outsiders.

The postcolonial perspective has been increasingly applied by scholars to the newly

independent states of the former Soviet Union. Since the field opened wide with the

groundbreaking article “Is the Post- in Postcolonial the Post- in Post-Soviet?” by David

Chioni Moore, much has been written on the subject, including a large volume entitled

Baltic Postcolonialism. Though focusing on language and literature, identity and

memory also come into play. Karl E. Jirgens argues both that foreign rule over Latvia

and the other Baltic States manifests itself in “a form of psychic colonization, a coloniza-

tion of the mind” and that this has resulted not only from Soviet rule in the twentieth

century but nearly a millennium of foreign domination by “some benevolent and many

malevolent subjugating governments” (47). Tellingly, Jirgens, in his specific Latvian

example of a “fusion of discourse,” utilizes the 1930s official visit of Emperor Haile Selas-

sie of Ethiopia to Latvia; he juxtaposes Selassie’s condemnation of the former status of

Balts as serfs and his status among Rastafarians as the messiah with the fact that

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“Latvia, or more specifically, the Duchy of Kourland in the 17th century had conducted an

economic colonization of Tobago as a crown colony” (64). Additionally, in the same

volume Karlis Racevskis argues that “the elaboration of the postcolonial perspective

can indeed be termed crucial in terms of the Baltic peoples’ attempts at understanding

themselves as well as gaining a sympathetic hearing from others at this stage of their

post-Soviet era of rebirth and recovery” (166). In line with the notion that Tobago lurks

in the background of postcolonial discussions of Latvia, Racevskis mentions in his end-

notes that “Latvia was even a colonial power at one time” and provides a brief description

of the Duchy of Courland’s colonial ventures (182). Indeed, it seems that the elaboration of

Tobago as a part of Latvia’s national past with Latvians as colonizers goes a long way

toward mitigating the present postcolonial identity of victimhood.

In her work on British national identity, Britons: Forging the Nation 1707–1837,

Linda Colley attempts to explain how the UK created a unified national identity for the

peoples of the multiethnic island of Britain. To Colley, the expanding British overseas

empire was a critical element in the construction of British identity and loyalty. For the

Scots, “the British army had been one of the few departments of the state wide open to

Scottish ambition” (Colley 126), an institution that became increasingly important as

the UK became a global power. Since higher service on the island of Britain itself was jea-

lously guarded by the English, service abroad became a critical means for Scots to ascend

the social ladder. In this manner, “a British imperium, in other words, enabled Scots to feel

themselves peers of the English in a way still denied to them in an island kingdom” (130).

Similarly, the largely enserfed Latvians of Courland had little hope for advancement

within the Duchy itself. But, with a tradition of service in the merchant and war fleet of

the Duchy, the acquisition of colonies boded well for the ethnic Latvian subjects of the

Duchy. Settlement on Tobago was the ticket to liberation from feudalism, as Latvian colo-

nists would have owned land and lived as freemen there. Though the Tobago colony did

not survive long enough to actualize such a development, it is likely that the small German

population of the Duchy would have necessitated a change in social relations beginning in

the colonies. In the long run, Latvian Courlanders could have gradually become equals to

the Baltic German Courlanders through their participation in the miniature colonial empire

of the Duchy.

One lament frequently heard in post-Soviet Latvia is that “we could have been

Finland,” had not the Soviet Union annexed the Baltic States in 1940. The implication

in this statement is that if left independent and neutral in the postwar period, Latvia

could have ascended like Finland to become an economic powerhouse and per capita

one of the wealthiest nations in the world. One can glean from Latvian historians that

this same notion is applied to the more distant past as well – “we could have remained

Courland” is the implied statement. Jukka Rislakki, ironically a Finn himself, wrote

perhaps the most overt expression of this sentiment:

In the 1600’s rich and proud Courland kept Gambia and Tobago as her colonies. When theLatvian provinces were annexed to Russia in the late 1700’s, they were among the most devel-oped and industrialized areas in the entire empire. At the start of the 2000’s Latvia was a notchbelow the developing country of Trinidad-Tobago in the UN’s statistics on human develop-ment. (Rislakki 183)

Had Courland’s neutrality been respected by its neighbors, a very favorable counterfactual

history could be expounded. In this scenario Courland could have retained its colonies and

economic dynamism, with the Latvian peasantry in time presumably becoming emanci-

pated from serfdom and enfranchised as citizens of that state. But because the Duchy

under Jacob embodied a “kind of progress and well-being that [. . .] has seldom been

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repeated in the Baltics”, it was destroyed by “envious neighbors” (Rislakki 68–69).

Courland – indeed, all of present-day Latvia and Estonia – arguably formed the most

developed part of both the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union following its annexation

to each in 1795 and 1940 respectively. But present-day Latvia, at present secure as a

member of NATO and the EU, can now hope for the kind of economic and trade

success enjoyed by Courland without having to fear realpolitik-based machinations of

its neighbors.

Tobago functions not only as a symbol of colonial power and the potential of success

for Latvians but also as a toponymic reminder of Latvia’s existence. Courland, and Latvia

as a whole, have appeared only intermittently on political maps, while their topographical

features have changed names many times over the years. Though the name New Courland

did not endure for the island, “Courland” remains the place name of two bays, a valley, a

river, and a region of the island. In his seminal work, Imagined Communities, Benedict

Anderson notes “the strange habit of naming remote places . . . as ‘new’ versions of

(thereby) ‘old’ toponyms in their lands of origin” (187). This topographical parallelism

has a number of political consequences for both the colony and metropole. These enduring

place names have been a means for propagating knowledge of Courland – and by exten-

sion Latvia – on Tobago and in the wider Caribbean. In this way, it is no wonder that

Latvian historians constantly emphasize these shared place names in their works. But

non-Latvian histories of the island of Tobago also, for reasons of ignorance or conven-

ience, often use the term “Latvia” anachronistically when referring to the Duchy of Cour-

land. One work refers to Courland as a “former principality of Latvia” while another

equates Courland with Latvia by noting simply that Courland is “now Latvia, a part of

the Soviet Union” (Black et al. 9; Ottley 13). Hinting at continuity, the parallel toponyms

suggest the perpetuation of Latvian language, culture, and customs during periods in

which they were being suppressed in Latvia itself.

Certain aspects of the Tobago colony and its legacy are ripe for comparison with Israeli

national identity, with Yael Zerubavel’s work, Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and

the Making of Israeli National Tradition, as a basis. One aspect thereof that Zerubavel

addresses is the fall of the mountain fortress of Masada to the Romans, in which Jewish

Sicarii rebels committed mass suicide in order to avoid capture. Though an ancient

event, both the site and the story behind it were rediscovered in modern times. During

the first half of the twentieth century Masada, owing to the power of the myth and its

remote and exotic location, became a pilgrimage destination for Zionist youth organiz-

ations. After the founding of Israel, the state began to take interest in the site, funding

archeological expeditions and improving access to the site. As the head of the team of

archeologists, Yigael Yadin often noted that both “the archeological and national interests

were closely entwined” in the venture (Zerubavel 65). Similarly, the lasting significance of

the Courlander colony combined with the very existence of shared toponymy make it poss-

ible for these parts of Tobago to function as a sacred space for Latvians.

The emergence of a sizable Latvian diaspora in the postwar period has been a catalyst

for this process; unable to return to Soviet-ruled Latvia, Tobago could function somewhat

as a substitute for their homeland. To the ruins of the colony of New Courland the Cour-

land Monument was added in 1978 as a formal memorial, furthering the possibility of

commemoration. The emergence of formal pilgrimages to the island organized by nation-

alist organizations such as the World Federation of Free Latvians mirrors the early trips to

Masada by Zionist youth organizations. Rituals embedded in the Latvian national tra-

dition, such as the celebration of the Midsummer holiday on the island, have been trans-

ferred over as a part of these pilgrimages. As “the summer solstice is hardly observed in

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Western Europe, but . . . is celebrated by virtually all Latvians in Latvia” (Broks, Tabuna,

and Tabuns 123), commemorating the occasion on Tobago surrounded by the sacred

geography of the former Courland colony is an ideal means of strengthening national iden-

tity among emigres. Admittedly, these pilgrimages are not numerically large, but, as in the

early decades of the Masada journeys, they represent an important beginning. Addition-

ally, since they involve Latvians from all over the world, who can then share their experi-

ences with their own local Latvian community, or even via web logs and photo-sharing

web sites, they could become quite large and influential indeed. The emergence of arche-

ological expeditions with municipal and state support suggests that the pilgrimages may

enter a new, more significant phase, as Masada did when it fell under the patronage of

the Israeli state. In this manner, Tobago has been transformed by these processes into a

part of Latvian national history both to those within and those living outside Latvia.

Unlike the Duchy of Courland’s other colony at the mouth of the river Gambia, Tobago

continues to grow in importance in Latvian culture. Though both the Gambia and Tobago

were prominent in Latvian national consciousness, in particular during the interwar period,

the Gambia has faded while Tobago’s star has risen. The simplest reason for this is that the

Gambia is a less appealing target for appropriation into Latvian national history. Few

ethnic Latvians traveled to that African trading post and none attempted to settle there per-

manently, in direct contrast to the settler colony on the island of Tobago. The possessions

in the Gambia were held more briefly than Tobago, and the Duchy made fewer attempts to

regain them. James Island is today a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but was named as

such as a result of its notoriety in the slave trade; such a dark legacy is not attractive

for appropriation by Latvians. Additionally, the reasons for de-emphasizing the Gambia

may be as simple as internalized prejudices on the quality of life in Africa versus in

the Caribbean. For example, Bundurs contrasts the Gambia rather unfavorably with

Tobago:

The climate in the Gambia is unhealthy, hard for Europeans to bear, humid and warm, andespecially intolerable during the rainy season (from July to October) . . . On the island [ofTobago] is a healthy and pleasant climate, mildly warm without rapid changes [in tempera-ture]. Large tropical storms did not rage over the island. Rain is sufficient, besides inOctober in which it occurs all month without interruption. On the island is colorful vegetation.The soil is fertile. (Bundurs 12–17, auth. trans.)

As Smith notes, not all peoples are equally endowed in terms of their community’s past.

Similarly, the Duchy of Courland’s colonies were not equal in their development, demo-

graphics, and legacy. Thus, Tobago has become a significant component of the Latvian

national narrative while Gambia remains on the periphery.

Latvia is a country in many ways without an illustrious past, and it often seems to be

without a necessarily bright future. The Courland colony of Tobago provides a potential

remedy for both of these. To quote Edgar Anderson, “Thus Latvia begins to get into its

‘grand history’ through the backdoor – via the West Indies” (Senie kurzemnieki

Amerika 348, auth. trans.). However, the symbol of Tobago is not only relevant to the

past; Latvia is projecting a potentially glorious future through the prism of Courland at

the height of its power. The former Tobago colony has become increasingly important

for Latvian national identity as it has developed during the twentieth and as it continues

to mature in the twenty-first century. Though all national identities are to a certain

degree constructed, not every nation is blessed with the same wealth of material from

the past from which to build this identity. For a nation like Latvia, which has been so

often conquered and subjugated by foreigners during the past millennium, there is all

the more need for a heroic and impressive past. Lacking an obvious period for this, the

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Duchy of Courland’s colony on Tobago has been appropriated and subsequently trans-

formed into a Latvian colony, a colony of the colonized.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank Dr. Aviel Roshwald for his assistance with this project. His

advice and encouragement were very valuable. The Library of Congress has also been an

invaluable resource and the staff in the European and Hispanic reading rooms were

friendly and helpful.

Notes

1. Alternatively spelled the Kurs and Semgallians. Their names correspond to two of contemporaryLatvia’s four regions: Courland and Semigallia (Latv.: Kurzeme and Zemgale). The Duchy ofCourland or Courland for short (Latv.: Kurzemes un Zemgales hercogiste; Ger.: HerzogtumKurland und Semgallen). The English term Courland and adjective Courlander (as opposed toCouronian, Courish, etc.) shall be used unless quoting a source.

2. Also known as Jacob or Jacobus (Latv.: Jekabs Ketlers; Ger.: Jakob von Kettler). James will bethe name used unless quoting a source.

3. For an exhaustive account of Duke James’s colonial policy, see Mattiesen.4. (Latv.: Jaunkurzeme; Ger.: Neu Kurland.)5. “CARIBS: A tribe of the aboriginal peoples of the Americas . . . they did inhabit Tobago, where

they grew the tobacco which they traded with Caribs of the other islands” (Anthony 102).6. (Latv.: Jaunzemgale; Ger.: Neu Semgallen.)7. The word tauta means both “nation” and “people” in Latvian (cf. Volk, narod). “Nation” will be

the English equivalent used in this paper.8. Today named Tartu (arch. Latv.: Terbata) and located in Estonia as it is situated in the northern

half of Livonia.9. Alternatively known by the Latvian spelling of Edgars Andersons.

10. Kalps is the Latvian word for “servant” or “farmhand.”11. Under proper Latvian orthography the names would be “Janis Mulkis,” “Burvim/Burvis,”

“Janis Bruveris,” “Kenins,” and “Perkons.”12. (Latv.: “Tobago” maina kursu; Rus.: «Tpbadp» nfo>fm lurs.)13. Karlis Ulmanis, the interwar leader of the Latvian Farmers’ Union, overthrew the parliamentary

system in a coup d’etat in 1934. He then built an authoritarian regime centered on Latvian eth-nonationalism, agrarianism, and corporatism.

14. In Latvian, “Tirdzniecıbas centrs TOBAGO” (T/C TOBAGO). The slogan of the mall, appropri-ately for the theme of imagined communities and national identity, is “Let loose your imagin-ation!” (Atraisi savu izteli!).

15. “Janis” and “Baiba” are both typical ethnic Latvian names, and the word used for “song,”“daina,” has a special connotation toward folklore and national identity in contrast to“dziesma,” a more general word for song.

16. Karklis, Streips, and Streips indicate that a number of Latvian colonists in Tobago emigrated asthe island slipped out of Courlander control, resettling in New England and along the southernAtlantic coast of the present-day US. Thus, the connection to Tobago may be even more directthan assumed.

17. Midsummer, consisting of Midsummer’s Eve (Latv.: Lıgo) and Midsummer’s Day (Latv.: Jani),is by far the most important holiday on the Latvian calendar, celebrated on 23 and 24 June,respectively. Latvians observe Midsummer with numerous folk traditions retained from thepre-Christian era.

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