Thanks to the unprecedentedly energetic efforts of the city government, made up of members from four self-sacrificing political parties, care for the citizens has soared to heavenly heights in no time. Don’t believe it? You should! In what other European capital, besides Tallinn, can residents rest their weary legs on an inconspicuous bench tucked into the corner of a building, one that costs a whopping €1,000? Besides Tallinners, very few, if any, have this luxury.
Some malicious citizens have questioned whether these randomly scattered benches on the streets were worth the obscene amount paid for them. I would instead ask: do such skeptics have no conscience at all, to raise such petty doubts? Why shouldn’t a bland and easily breakable bench, like the ones acquired in Tallinn through a million-euro procurement, cost a thousand euros? Take famous fashion brands like Yves Saint Laurent, Christian Dior, or Valentino—their clothes don’t look particularly special at first glance. Still, once you hear the price, you instantly understand their elite status. It’s the same with Tallinn’s benches. They may appear indistinguishable from something bought at a hardware store—perhaps even shabbier than cheaper ones—but once you learn they are the famous “thousand-benches,” your perspective changes. You feel drawn to sit on them proudly, mentally applauding the cleverness of our city leaders.
A thousand for benches, another thousand for trash cans—that’s how the budget gets spent. And naturally, there’s no money left to eliminate kindergarten fees. But at least our bench-dealing buddies are happy, and it’s always pleasant to delight one’s circle of acquaintances.
Unfailingly honest, blindly blind.
Everyone knows the previous city government, led by the Centre Party, was corrupt. The current mayor, enjoying his peak moments in life, has repeatedly pointed this out—and he’s never wrong. It’s also self-evident that the current quartet in charge is among the most honest and distinguished crews ever to occupy City Hall. Raise a toast to that! They’re so honest that internal control specialists are being let go individually, because they want to conduct vile audits, as if city leaders needed someone to scrutinize their impeccably honest work.
Just recently, the news reported that internal control’s overly zealous employee Vivian Mihelson and her two colleagues were dismissed—not because they highlighted mistakes made by our brilliant city leaders, but mainly because they wrote their reports in bureaucratic jargon that the literarily gifted head of internal control, Kaur Siruli, simply couldn’t endure any longer.
“One of my goals when I started was to improve the content and form of memos and reports. Over time, I’ve made suggestions on how to present texts: what to emphasize, what to highlight, and what not to include so that reports would be more specific, with fewer assumptions, speculations, and fluff,” explained Siruli, who values Tammsaarean clarity, when calling his uncomfortably frank subordinates to order.
Neither the thousand-euro benches, the outrageously long-standing trash can shortage, nor the failure of the street lighting procurement bothers such a dedicated watchdog. As Old Thomas once said, the dog that doesn’t growl at its master but chases off the other barking dogs from afar earns its bread most successfully.
See you in autumn!
Let’s be grateful, dear fellow citizens, that we can enjoy the chilly end of spring chilling on our thousand-euro benches, tossing ice cream wrappers on the streets, since no one has yet seen the promised trash cans that were supposed to arrive by St. Bartholomew’s Day. Let us praise our fine politicians for decisively bungling communal affairs and look forward to autumn, because if we’re lucky, we’ll get less showboating in public, but a city management that is more expert and treats the citizens’ wallets with respect.
Vsevolod Jürgenson
