That’s the evocative term used in this post by Edward Lucas on the Economist’s Eastern Approaches blog to describe those exiled Baltic diplomats who flew the flag for their countries’ independendence throughout the long Soviet occupation:
It was rather like being the ambassador for Atlantis. Though the Soviet Union had swallowed the Baltic republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, seemingly permanently, they maintained a shadowy existence on the periphery of world diplomacy, thanks to Western countries’ refusal (for the most part: dishonourable exceptions included Australia, briefly, and Sweden) to recognise the Soviet annexation de jure. Sometimes the presence was only physical: a half-ruined building in West Berlin’s Tiergarten was the old Estonian embassy, occupied by artistic types who paid a peppercorn rent into a frozen bank account. But the flags of the three countries actually flew over dusty legations and embassies in Washington DC, London and the Vatican, run by people such as August Torma.
Mr Torma (who was based in London) does not seem to have been the most compelling of characters (“not a swashbuckler”, writes Lucas, gently), and he died long before the Soviet collapse. Here in New York, however, Ernst Jaakson was, as Lucas notes, more fortunate. He lived to see the empire fall. You can see a Radio Free Europe tribute to Jaakson here (scroll down) written by Paul Goble. Jaakson’s diplomatic career began in 1919, as a translator working in the Estonian embassy in newly independent Latvia, and it only ended on his death in 1998.
He represented Estonia when it was a small country far away from the United States. He represented it during the long years when it was occupied by the Soviet Union and when few thought it would ever be free again… To an important degree Mr. Jaakson was Estonia precisely because he invariably subordinated himself to its cause. A man of enormous dignity, Mr. Jaakson performed all the duties he was given with integrity, good manners, and charm. During the long years of the Soviet occupation when Baltic representatives in the West were often the object of curiosity or humorous dismissal, Mr. Jaakson commanded universal respect. And he did so not peremptorily but by his personal authority. Even those inclined to dismiss the Baltic cause often went away from meetings with him convinced that indeed Estonia and her Baltic neighbors would be free again. And when Estonia and her neighbors were working together to recover their independence, Mr. Jaakson’s personal authority was such that presidents, prime ministers, and secretaries of state always listened to him.
In the end, he became Estonian ambassador to Washingon and to the United Nations.
Sometimes, justice prevails.