Ethnic Discord : Latvia Playing Russian Roulette : Courting chaos, the new Baltic state may strip more than a million of their citizenship.

When the people of Latvia took to the streets to demand independence a year ago, Jana Rubinchik did not hesitate to chant the dangerous slogans or sing the defiant anthems in the face of Soviet troops. At 22, she relished the chance to play whatever part she could in winning freedom for the land where she was born.

In the end, Latvia did, indeed, win.

But Rubinchik lost.

For one of the first things Latvia’s freely elected new government did was to draft a law that would, in effect, render nearly half its 2.7 million inhabitants illegal aliens--Rubinchik included.

“This problem touches everybody,” said government spokesman Alexander Mirlins. “If we don’t resolve this, we will have another Belfast or Beirut here, and no one wants that.”

Behind the controversial citizenship act is a small, beleaguered country’s desperate search for an identity lost half a century ago. But the so-called de-Russification, this determined attempt to undo 51 years of Soviet occupation and colonization, is fraught with emotion, and entire generations are finding, like Rubinchik, that the price of giving Latvia an identity may be to sacrifice their own.

In Latvia, ordinary citizenship would be granted to those who held it before the 1940s Soviet occupation and to their children and grandchildren. All others would have to apply for citizenship and meet requirements that critics insist are far too stringent.

Neighboring Lithuania, which has a much smaller Russian presence, gave blanket citizenship to permanent residents at the time of independence. Estonia, on the other hand, would require 37% of its population--mostly Russian--to apply for citizenship, but naturalization would take only two years.

Under the law Latvia is considering, applicants for citizenship would be required to have at least 16 years’ permanent residence along with a basic grasp of Latvia’s constitution and complicated language. They would also have to renounce any other citizenship and swear allegiance to Latvia. Non-citizens could be denied the right to vote, hold state office or own property.

All higher education would be in the Latvian language, a switch from the current bilingual university program. Non-citizens would be allowed to own property.

“I’ll apply, of course, and I have a good chance of getting citizenship, but I doubt my mother will qualify, because her Latvian isn’t very good,” said Rubinchika, who has Russian, Polish and Jewish blood, but no Latvian.

“The most difficult question anyone can ask me is what my nationality is,” the young journalist continued. “Growing up, I learned Latvian songs and fairy tales, and we celebrated Latvian holidays like Christmas and the summer solstice, which Russians don’t. But on the other hand, my mother gave me Russian literature, and I have a deep love for classical Russian painting. And, of course, we speak Russian.”

Still, Latvia is her birthplace and, for 23 years, the only homeland she has ever known.

“If I’m among Russians for any length of time, I start to feel uneasy because it is a different mentality,” she said, “but the same thing happens if I’m with Latvians for long. I feel in between. It’s very lonely. I cannot define myself.”

Ironically, the profound sense of loss is something Latvians, especially older ones, understand all too well.

After being annexed by the Soviet Union in 1940 and occupied by the Red Army, the three Baltic states were subjected to a long, painful process of “Russification.”

Tens of thousands of Latvians, Lithuanians and Estonians were eventually deported from their homelands, while about 1.5 million ethnic Russians flooded in, most of them sent to work in the new Soviet factories. The mass migration was part of a deliberate plan by Moscow to prevent any republic in the U.S.S.R. from becoming self-sufficient.

In this process, Latvia became the most heavily industrialized Baltic state, as well as the command post for an estimated 120,000 Red Army troops in the region. With its higher standard of living, Latvia also became a choice retirement spot for the officers, and anywhere from 40,000 to 80,000 are thought to have settled here.

By the time independence came last summer, amid the collapse of the Soviet empire, Russian was the dominant language, and Latvians felt themselves ignored in their own capital, Riga, where an estimated 70% of the city’s 916,500 inhabitants are Russian.

“We are on the verge of ceasing to exist as a nation,” declared Maris Grinblats, the 37-year-old leader of the far-right Latvian Citizen’s Congress, which demands “the voluntary repatriation” of all Russians.

“The citizens of Latvia have worse living standards than Russian occupiers,” Grinblats charged. “They got the best housing and the most prized jobs.”

The congress claims itself a shadow government of Parliament, which Grinblats contends was illegally elected because non-Latvians were allowed to vote. The congress claims to have issued over 30,000 identity cards to “rightful citizens,” and it has ties to what Grinblats describes as a small underground army.

Already, according to Grinblats, this 3,000-member nationalist militia is secretly arming itself and undergoing training “to defend the citizens of the Latvian republic” if the need arises.

But there has been no hint of clashes between the Russian and Latvian communities and no sudden surge of complaints about discrimination or harassment.

Passers-by pay scant attention to Maiga Kavilnikova as she stands in a Riga park handing out nationalist newsletters.

“Russians should go away, because they’re all colonizers,” the 53-year-old Latvian said, pointing to her hand-lettered placards saying just that in three languages--Latvian, English and Russian.

“Russians should live in Russia,” Kavilnikova went on. “They have no motherland here.”

But there are some small signs that Russians do want to assimilate. The school system has always been split into Russian and Latvian classes, and parents could choose either one regardless of nationality. For the first time, several Latvian kindergartens and grade schools are reporting a surge of Russian pupils. Russian parents are also paying for private tutoring in Latvian for their children, principals report.

And although Russian still prevails in the workplace, many Latvians are hearing their Russian neighbors greet them in broken Latvian for the first time.

“Really, the citizenship issue is a red herring,” insisted one Western diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity. “Eighty percent of the large enterprises are still controlled by the old Russian appointees, and fully 90% of the police force and militia. Show me a single Russian who has lost their house or been kicked out of their job.”

In the 201-member Supreme Council, or Parliament, most factions so far seem content to either naturalize non-Latvians or let them go on living here as foreign residents.

No final vote has been scheduled on the citizenship act, but a July 1 deadline has been set for people to apply for Latvian passports, and in May a separate law will go into force making Latvian the state language.

Prime Minister Ivars Godmanis favors a five-year residency requirement for naturalization and has made it plain that, although the remaining Red Army troops are unwelcome, Russian civilians are free to stay.

“There is no apartheid being created here,” asserted Yuri Boyars, a law professor and member of Parliament who drafted the citizenship act. “We cannot be blamed or held responsible for Soviet emigration policy, and we are not obliged to accept everybody for citizenship.”

He is certain the 16-year rule will be amended in the final version.

“There’s too much excitement about the problem and too much passion,” he said. “I think it will all be straightened out in a few years.

“Right now, the Latvians feel sort of endangered as a nationality, and on the other hand, the Russians feel cornered because they unexpectedly found themselves living abroad.”

Such reassurances do little to allay the fears of Mikhail Gavzilov, a member of both the Supreme Council and the Riga City Council. A Latvian-born Russian, Gavzilov represents the Russian Center for Democratic Initiatives.

“There are isolated incidents of discrimination, and such situations make the whole atmosphere very nervous,” he said.

“Two months ago in the Supreme Council, they suddenly stopped providing simultaneous translation into Russian,” he recalled. “Many deputies have stopped coming to sessions, because they don’t understand anything. I’ve seen other Russian-speaking deputies pooling their money to hire private interpreters.”

Gavzilov said he had heard of “a great number of directors at large enterprises being fired, because they are not Latvians,” and the new language requirement has cost him his job at the university as well.

“I left because I won’t be allowed to lecture in Russian in the future,” he said. “I teach political economics. I could never do that as well in Latvian as I can in Russian.”

Since 1940, Latvians have been required to study Russian in school, and most are bilingual. The two languages are not similar. While Russian is Slavic, Latvian belongs to the Baltic group of the Indo-European language family.

The language law mandates fluent Latvian for all state posts, which, Russians nervously point out, could be interpreted to mean any job until privatization is completed.

“Another problem is that many Russians don’t want to sign the loyalty oath for Latvian citizenship, because it’s very strongly worded,” Gavzilov said. “It looks like the oath you give before going to war. I would have to forsake my former motherland.

“But many Russians are reluctant to protest this whole thing or to openly express their opinions, because then if they do apply for citizenship, their loyalty may be questioned.”

Whenever the next elections are held, the Supreme Council is almost certain to tilt further to the right, since the citizenship act will give the next vote only to the pre-1940 Latvians and their direct descendants.

All residents were allowed to vote regardless of nationality when the current legislature was elected in 1990. Even the hated Red Army troops could cast ballots.

Until the August coup attempt, opinion polls indicated that the majority of Russians living in the Baltics opposed independence for their adopted state.

Visvaldis Lacis, a 67-year-old deputy from another pro-Latvian faction in the Supreme Council, has a pointed message for the Russians living in Latvia:

“Nobody asked you to come,” he tells the Russians, “and you can’t feel at home, because you have occupied this land.

“Russians often say, ‘But this means we’ll be second-class citizens,’ and I tell them, ‘No, you’re not second-class citizens. You’re not citizens at all.

“ ‘You are nothing.’ ”

A Troubled Melting Pot

Russians Flood In . . .

Russians were once enticed to go to Latvia as part of Moscow’s plan to prevent any republic from becoming self-sufficient. After the three Baltic states were annexed by the Soviets in 1940, tens of thousands of Latvians, Lithuanians and Estonians were eventually deported, while about 1.5 million ethnic Russians flooded in.

. . .But Hostility Lingers 5 Decades Later

Now, in a quest to restore its identity, Latvia is considering a stringent citizenship act that would in essence render nearly half its population illegal aliens. Citizenship would be granted to those who held it before the 1940s Soviet occupation and to their children and grandchildren.

Others would be required to: * Have at least 16 years’ permanent residence. * Renounce any other citizenship. * Swear allegiance to Latvia. * Show a basic grasp of Latvia’s constitution. * Have a basic grasp of the language.

Latvia’s Population (1991, at time of independence)

Native Latvians: 54%

Russians: 33% Poles, Belarussians and Ukranians: 13%