Seattleite Helps Disconnect Estonia's `Telephone Justice'

TALLINN, Estonia - The winds of the Baltic Sea carry a chill and a sting unfamiliar to the lawyer from the shores of Lake Washington.

This morning the temperature is below freezing as he pulls up the collar of his bulky overcoat, settles the fur hat firmly, tugs on his gloves and steps from the door of the gray box of an apartment building on Faehlmanni Street.

Keith Callow, former chief justice of the Washington state Supreme Court, is walking the dozen blocks to his office at the Ulemkohus, or Justice Ministry, in Tallinn, capital of Estonia.

He is more cautious than the fast-walking natives as he negotiates the snow-encrusted streets.

The avuncular attorney smiles. "The weather is a pain in the neck. The streets are slippery and I've fallen on my backside a couple of times. There are cultural adjustments to make. Living is a little inconvenient for a foreigner. But it's not really tough."

He has been here since January explaining how an independent court system works. The Estonians had taken legal instructions from Moscow since the Russians invaded the nation 50 years ago.

"It was," says Callow, "telephone justice. There was no judicial independence. The court system was an arm of the government. Everything that was of importance you got on the phone and called Moscow and said, what do I do now?"

The former Seattle lawyer came here under the auspices of the State Department's rule-of-law project and the U.S. Information Agency.

He works for the Estonian minister of justice and the chairman of the National Court. His assignment is to help draft the mechanics of a new court system. It goes to the Parliament in June.

"The citizens have no faith in and no respect for the courts. They felt once they were in the system they were trapped." Callow shakes his head. "You just showed up and got told what was going to happen to you."

Estonia declared its independence on Aug. 20, 1991.

It is the only republic of the former Soviet Union to successfully introduce currency, draft a constitution and conduct presidential and parliamentary elections.

And the Parliament has pressing problems.

"It's like Thomas Jefferson and James Madison are told, hey, guys, you've got to come up with a constitution and," Callow chuckles, "you've got to come up with statutes on criminal law, probate law, a land reform law, a land registration law, a commercial law and you've got to do it now."

The former judge dismisses complaints from Moscow that ethnic Russians are being discriminated against because they haven't been granted automatic citizenship. "The Estonians aren't requiring anything except that people learn the language and become part of an Estonian system."

Callow also claims that there's little validity to claims of Russians that they lost jobs because of discrimination. He cites the circumstances of a former electrical engineer in a defense plant who now drives a taxi.

"The whole blooming industry is gone. It wasn't discrimination against him because he's Russian," declares the legal adviser. "They're not making rocket engines and stuff like that anymore. The adjustment is a tough thing for everybody."

The rules of a free-enterprise system are not apparent to all Estonians.

The first night in his rented apartment Callow was awakened when an elderly man who spoke no English unlocked the door. Nodding and smiling, he undressed and went to sleep on the couch.

"The next night he shows up again," laughs the former judge, "takes a shower and goes to bed."

That's when Callow moved to a hotel and started looking for another place to live.

The old man was the owner of the apartment. Though it was rented he figured he could still use it whenever he wanted.

When Callow's wife arrived a month later they found the four-room apartment. It's about a fifth the size of their brick home in Laurelhurst.

"You miss the space and you miss hot water. Living takes a lot more time here," says Evie Callow. "You shop every day and you don't know what's going to be available. One day there's milk and the next day there isn't, which makes an adventure out of it."

What she misses most are a firm bed and the freedom of a car.

"But we're getting a lot of exercise."

Downtown Tallinn is compact. One can walk to the stores and offices. The outdoor market is a favorite stop.

"It's like taking the Pike Place Market back to the 16th century," says Callow. "A farmer is hacking up a beef carcass with a broadax and next to him a guy is selling onions, potatoes and carrots."

"We kid the judge that everywhere we go we see him hiking up the street like he'd lived here forever," says Sandra Kaiser, the head of the U.S. Embassy's Information Office. "He really gets around. He's a great ambassador for the U.S."

The Estonian Parliament hopes to incorporate the best elements of all legal systems. The questions Callow deals with are basic in the U.S. but unknown in Estonia.

"They'll ask, `How do you appoint lawyers to help the poor and the accused?' And I'll explain about the U.S. system.

"There's a lack of ethical considerations," emphasizes Callow. "They don't have a tradition of a judge making a ruling based on the law, treating the smallest and biggest gun in the country equally. It is something that must be instilled in their judges and law school graduates."

The American jurist will try to contribute to that understanding while lecturing at the law school of Tartu University. He has also drafted a proposed curriculum for the institution.

"There are a lot of young people who have no experience in government," he says. They're eager to do a good job, but they're going to make a lot of mistakes. What Estonia needs is some breaks with the economy, something to keep the economy going. It needs time, a lot of time. And it needs all the help it can get."

Ted Bryant is a freelance writer and broadcaster and was in Estonia as a consultant to the Estonian radio and television system and lectured at Tartu University. He lives in Portland.