I consider myself fortunate to have lived through the collapse of the Soviet Union and the rebirth of Estonian independence in 1991. Back then, we believed in Western democracy and promised each other: “We’ll survive on potato peelings if that’s what it takes—just give us our freedom."
And with independence, our economy blossomed. No one dreamed of 9-to-5 jobs — we embraced entrepreneurship. What I miss most from that era:
24-hour kiosks on every corner, selling cigarettes and beer. You could work through the night and step out for a break whenever you needed.
Markets offering durable jeans that fit—not overpriced branded imports made in China.
Russian vodka and tobacco were cheaper and preferred over Western alternatives.
My business organized weekly trips to Helsinki for luxuries like Mehukatti syrup, Voimix butter, bananas, and oranges. Finnish entrepreneurs welcomed Estonian shoppers—until we stopped coming and their stores closed.
Farmers traded their fresh potatoes and vegetables for useful goods, no bureaucracy required.
During the early days of Estonian independence, I ran a startup business providing IT systems to other companies. One of our clients was a grocery wholesaler who had imported a 5-liter bottle of Johnnie Walker whiskey mounted on wheels. Naturally, I decided such a thing would be a perfect fit for our creative office environment, and we began purchasing these bottles from the client regularly.
It became a charming tradition—calling the client to check in and casually mentioning that we’d run out of whiskey. This served both business and social purposes. When tax inspectors visited our office and noticed the oversized bottle, they asked, “What’s this?” I explained that we were a creative company producing intellectual value, and this was simply part of our inspirational toolkit. Surprisingly, the explanation held up, and the whiskey purchases were accepted as legitimate business expenses.
Fast forward to today—if someone merely spots employees sipping a beer during their lunch break, the employer risks fines for allowing individuals who’ve consumed alcohol to continue working. A stark contrast to those freer, more entrepreneurial times.
But by the late ’90s, things started to unravel. Estonia’s “career Communists” couldn’t thrive in the new system—so they struck back. When I refused to donate to their party, they retaliated. As an internet innovator with a client in Bahrain, I was stunned when officials accused me of money laundering. They seized my laptop and servers.
I quietly asked my wife, raising our daughter at home, “Can I borrow your computer?” I registered a Delaware LLC, got an EIN, and visited the U.S. Embassy in Tallinn to explain everything. They granted me a 10-year “business and pleasure” visa. Back then, the embassy still represented freedom, not politics.
With this new start, I traveled the world—writing code, pitching clients, and finding inspiration. My laptop became my passport. But in 2002, everything changed when the U.S. went to war with Afghanistan. I saw capitalism heading for the same fate as communism. So I returned to Estonia, only to find it radically transformed:
Finding work was nearly impossible. “CV analysts”—people with no real-world experience—deemed me “overqualified.”
Estonia silently joined the war in Afghanistan, bypassing constitutional protocols. When I asked Foreign Minister Harry Tiido, he simply muttered something about NATO requirements.
During the EU referendum, government propaganda promised prosperity. I warned that only the elite would benefit. On my ballot, I scribbled: “Let’s kiss our Brussels bosses’ boots.”
My grandfather, a businessman during Estonia’s first independence, mocked the Soviet vote: “Let’s kill those Russian pigs.” That, too, was counted as a yes.
So I moved to the UK, drawn by its artists and writers—David Bowie, Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett. But British hostility toward Eastern Europeans pushed me to Barcelona... until their independence movement was crushed. Now I’m back in Estonia, and here’s what I see:
No more 24-hour shops. After night shifts ending at 7AM, I must wait three hours to buy a beer.
Beer and tobacco prices rise 10% annually, yet living allowances remain stagnant. Food costs surge daily.
EU demands forced us to shut down domestic energy production, spiking prices after cutting ties with Russian energy.
Trade with Russia once made up 30% of our economy. After EU-imposed sanctions, that vanished.
Our robust banking and telecom sectors were taken over by Swedish corporations inventing fees for everything—cards, router rent, energy connections.
Cultural and business grants are riddled with favoritism. Well-known local writers are ignored while funding flows to trendy or elite causes. Startup funds drive competition out rather than foster growth.
Our justice system feels rigged. A judge once worried that if the opposition won, they'd be sent to Siberia. I replied: Maybe there is a reason, if you think so. But do not afraid, you will never get to Siberia. Siberia is the place of rich people having their luxury villas there. There are big farms nourish China, they constantly build new cities for hundreds of thousands people for new gas and oil production facilities. You will be sent to Harku prison, where we give you some time to think about what you have done”. That comment was swiftly deleted.
