Riga - Two months before the Berlin Wall came down, an equally spectacular event took place farther to the east in the Soviet republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. But what happened on August 23 remains little known to many in the West. At 7 pm that day, as many as 2 million people (no one knows the exact figure) joined hands across the Baltic states to form a human chain from Vilnius to Tallinn via Riga. They stood in silence for 15 minutes to demand their independence.
The event was known as the "Baltic Way," and it marked the beginning of the end for Communism in the region.
It was specifically planned to mark a painful date in Baltic history. On the same day in 1939, the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact was signed between Stalin's Soviet Union and Hitler's Germany, essentially agreeing to divide Eastern Europe into spheres of influence and clearing the way for the Soviet Union to annex the Baltic states in 1940.
That memory adds yet another bittersweet tinge as the Baltic states organize numerous events - including exhibits, conferences and meetings of government officials - to mark the 20th anniversary of the Baltic Way.
Perhaps the most ambitious is Heartbeats for the Baltics, in which runners will simultaneously depart Vilnius and Tallinn to meet in Riga, covering 671 kilometres. Thousands have signed up to participate.
Heartbeats was the brainchild of Latvian President Valdis Zatlers. In a practice event on August 13, Zatlers led the way with a brisk jog through the forest outside Riga.
A little out of breath at the finishing line, he told the German Press Agency dpa: "The Way was made by all the people of the states. It was a wonderful sensation knowing the hands you were holding extended all the way to Tallinn in the north and Vilnius in the south."
It was a desire to communicate that feeling to those born since the Way that Zatlers says inspired him to devise the run.
"It will be a great emotion, especially for the younger generation, who don't have memories of the Baltic Way," he told dpa.
"We gave a clear signal: we are organized, we have overcome the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact and we are ready to go forward and be dynamic in a challenging world. That's the way the Balts do things," he added.
Estonian businessman Priit Haamer was just a child 20 years ago.
"I was an 8-year-old and fairly obsessed with the idea of Estonia becoming independent. I followed all the news with huge interest, so that day really stands out in my memories," he said.
"It was a sunny and warm evening, and where we stood in the road had a really great view, so you could see the chain extending far into the distance. All the people were nice and friendly, and everyone had their radios on to stay connected with others on the chain.
"All sorts of cars were passing by - some with TV cameras. I can't remember any fear whatsoever, so I guess people were confident that things would turn out all right in the end."
Organizers included Ints Upmacis in Latvia. Today he works for the Latvian Foreign Ministry. He is also co-chairman of the Latvia-Russia Demarcation Commission, which is working to mark a permanent border between the two countries.
In 1989 Upmacis was a volunteer worker with the Popular Front movement that pushed for independence and was responsible for setting up the human line as it passed through central Riga.
"There was no real resistance," he told dpa. "The police officials told me it would be nice if the line would stand on the pavements rather than in the road. I said I didn't know where people would choose to stand. Of course, the line was right in the middle of the street."
In central Riga the line of people holding hands became five-deep in places.
"The main problem was how to transport people to places away from the centre to keep the line going. The problem was resolved in a few days by just calling people with access to buses and asking them to transport people."
Ironically, his responsibilities meant he didn't have time to join the line himself.
"I borrowed one of the Popular Front's two cars and drove along the line right to the city limits to make sure everything was running well. I was so tired after all the preparation work that it just seemed normal to see everybody holding hands in the street," he said.
A Lithuanian participant, ceramic artist Nomeda Marcenaite, said that there was a strong spiritual element to the Baltic Way.
"This feeling was very difficult to describe, but it was overwhelming. It is very difficult to artificially simulate, and therefore I think it would be impossible to repeat such an event. In any case, I think that once is enough - especially in that fateful moment," she said.
"People are always looking to break records, but what we did, it was not a record attempt," she said. "It was a spiritual thing, perhaps a spiritual record. When Lithuanians speak badly about themselves, I think they should remember that the Way happened."
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