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I won’t define who are our hippies and who are Western hippies,

or our people and Western people.

Every society has its own dissonances. Something that people want to escape.

We don’t really know where we are going,

but we do know what we’re running away from.

SOVIET HIPPIES

“Hippie Slang”

The unifying feature of the movement which hasn’t lost its importance

is the non-violent attitude.

But these are just side effects.

We can hardly grasp the greater depths of the phenomenon,

or make any proper sense of it.

My travels have become those where

you don’t have to physically move at all.

The air is white, the trees are sad.

I’m a junkie!

Me, a young pioneer of the Soviet Union,

solemnly swear in front of my comrades

to passionately love my Soviet homeland,

to live, study and fight as was taught by the Great Lenin,

and as teaches the Communist Party.

Be prepared to fight for the cause!

Always prepared!

Hippy or not… I live how I like.

My life maybe has other kind of division.

I love music and dancing.

I am not ashamed if my dancing seems primitive.

What does society make of such youngsters?

We have to cut their hair by force or they have to get it cut themselves.

This is what a hairdresser says.

Sometimes it’s better to hit the ones who don’t understand words.

And some youngsters don’t.

It seems that there is some influence from outside coming into our country.

The Spiritual Kitchen of Pop Life!

Of course it was absurd that the music was underground.

My cousin was a couple of years older

and one of the first to form a band here.

He told me about the Beatles

and how to listen to them on the radio.

And besides music I also heard

of exciting things happening in the world.

Firstly, no one spoke English back then.

So just imagine the influence!

We had no clue what they’re singing about.

But the music itself, like a wavelength...

Such a strange vibration...

It made you vibrate.

Even now I don’t quite know what half the songs are about.

The overdrive sound started to shake our collective consciousness.

In 1965, I became a different person.

My hair, clothes, thoughts were different,

different music, style of walking.

Then the whole world of the Beatles opened up.

I saw the universe, all the madness here.

I felt God. Saw something sacred in them.

I’ve been wondering what fascinated us.

It’s not easy to put it in words.

A feeling that transcended logic,

and carried some kind of unifying power.

All of that made us feel different

from the rest of the Soviet crowd.

That we somehow differ, understand and feel things

other than what was permitted in the Soviet Union:

things you were prohibited to feel.

Our guys didn’t play any worse,

what we seriously lacked was instruments.

Musicians felt like girls

who instead of tampons had to use the Soviet newspaper “Sparkle”.

At Tallinn 5th High School we caught a group of modern forest folk.

Police Department

What’s so bad about a young man being able to play guitar?

The thing is that to improve their guitars they raid telephone booths.

In Tallinn alone they break up to 10 phone booths a day.

The inspection of guitars and guitarists

at the police department continues.

Listening to loud music disturbed my mother and sister.

I can understand them now,

but I can’t say the same about that 15-year-old boy,

who had just got the Beatles’ album “Sgt. Pepper’s”

and then listened to it dozens and dozens of times.

My mum thought something was wrong with me

and sent me to a psychiatric hospital.

They gave me insulin coma therapy.

At a certain point the reaction is brain shock.

The patient loses consciousness and starts convulsing.

And then they convulse all the time, foaming at the mouth.

It’s a rather disgusting sight.

In a sense, propaganda was really good.

The information during the Soviet era – it was so juicy!

I’d like to get some of that now.

And all of this bears one stamp – “Imported! Imported! Imported!”

This is not a home party.

It is a club and this trance is called recreation.

There was no sex in the Soviet Union. There were no prostitutes either.

There were no hippies in the Soviet Union.

No one wanted to see it. So they didn’t.

People were turned into zombies.

Our existence alone was a protest against the system.

We were a foreign element.

They wanted to get rid of us,

so that no foreign element existed here.

But … we still existed!

A bearded person is a suspicious person.

But a bearded person with long hair – that’s not even a person any more.

To cut your hair voluntarily is one thing,

to have it cut by force is quite another.

Going out was like going to war. Every day – going to war.

Your apartment was the trench, outside you were under direct fire.

You had to look not in front of your feet,

but 100–150 metres ahead,

to keep an eye out for policemen.

The situation was rather volatile.

They set wolfhounds loose on people.

Not a rumour, that’s how it really was.

We tried to peacefully convert the regime,

but they would have none of it.

Every chance they had to jail someone, they took it, of course.

They were always checking our documents.

Bullying, harassment, verbal abuse.

Often we were beaten, girls even raped.

In essence, they caused us to be different from them.

Some idiot tells you how to cut your hair, how to dress,

how much you can earn – that’s terror!

That’s why I keep on fighting this madness

and it is a protest for me.

We lived in a highly regulated society.

And any kind of deviance gave you a sense of ecstasy.

I can’t find my place in our cosy world.

Too tight and damp, like a dog pound.

Old and smoke-filled, just like a bar.

Meaningless, like a billiard ball.

Filth everywhere is sexier than your zip.

Atrocious laughter, a bullet in my brain.

I wasn’t really into experimenting

with mind-altering substances.

Rather the opposite –

I was into maintaining an ascetic lifestyle.

That morning I happened to visit Viking –

a legendary hippie in Tallinn.

He told me all kinds of stories, about how he flew above the city.

And he offered me some tea.

But it turned out that it wasn’t tea,

but a packet of Astmatol cigarettes

brewed like tea.

These were sold in pharmacies, intended for asthmatics.

I drank quite a few cups,

until the world around me went all weird.

Heaviness and discomfort increased, until I felt that I could not breathe.

Suddenly it all turned into the opposite.

From a central point, a web spread out.

Inside of this web,

there was me with everything that has been,

the world that has been, me that has been,

where I am and what I am going to be.

I wanted to go out, to get a cigarette.

The stairs from the second floor

seemed hundreds of kilometres deep.

And at the bottom of it there were 2-dimensional sheep.

There were two people with me –

Lena from Moscow and Sasha from Simferopol.

In reality I most probably made that street journey all alone.

But there were more surprises.

Sasha from Simferopol put his back to a post and started to climb up,

a post-box on his stomach.

And from that post all the people with whom I had recently talked

looked back at me and laughed out loud.

In the case of Astmatol poisoning

one of the first symptoms is paralysis of the diaphragm.

That turned out to be

the modest beginning of everything that followed.

“The Forbidden Zone”

We were talking about a roadtrip Why don’t we go to Latvia?

To Latvia… – Yes, for some hippie gathering,

There must be one, there’s many hippies.

And it’s not very far.

While at the same time it’s still … far.

A journey, a long and beautiful journey.

You have many friends there.

How many of them are still alive…

How about St. Petersburg?

Or Moscow?

Or why don’t we go to Crimea? If we get a Russian visa?

In the 60s, we discovered hitchhiking.

Once I got a taste for it

I visited St. Petersburg and Moscow a couple of times a month.

I once even added up all the kilometres,

it came to about two and a half times around the equator.

It was a gradual process,

experiencing the feeling of “us” –

that I’m not alone, there are many of us.

I learnt that there are hippies in Tartu,

Riga, Kaunas, Vilnius, Leningrad, Moscow,

Novosibirsk, Irkutsk, Sevastopol,

Kiev, Lviv and so on…

So I slowly found out that there were hippies

in all the major Soviet cities.

We were some of the first hippies

who compiled a People’s Book. It was like a Hippie Bible.

“I know this one! This is Kiev, Tallinn,

Riga, Vilnius, Kaunas, amazing!”

The first ones who dared to come out

were the children of powerful families.

They could do what they wanted without much risk.

Because in the case of trouble their parents could bail them out.

And the brightest one among us was the famous Yura Solntse – Sunny.

Sunny was the quintessence of free life.

He was like a typical character from the American beat literature.

The crowd that gathered around him

was called The System – the System of Sun.

There is a legend that he used to say:

“I’m the Sun and you are my Solar System.”

I first heard the name “System”

when we started communicating with Russia.

There, you heard it a lot – The System.

Let’s see what the hippie slang book says

“The System. Beginning of the 1970s.”

“An association of Soviet hippies and an informal youth movement.”

So that was the System.

The people of the System somehow knew each other.

When you travelled to a different city,

you were given phone numbers and a small note to describe you.

If you come via Valya the Hitchhiker, I had to say a few words about you.

Then you get a place to stay, and the host shows you around.

That’s the way it functioned.

This was my sewing workshop and the hippies used to stay here.

They loved coming here. There was music,

there was sex, there was everything.

This is how it has always been.

Once I couldn’t even get into my own house.

It was stacked with people up to the door.

Whenever one had to crash somewhere – of course, at Sass’s place!

At the beginning of the 80s we already had notebooks

saying who to contact in which city in order to find a flat.

The KGB didn’t get it at all:

how do you communicate? You don’t write.

There were barely any phone calls, because only a few people had phones.

Of course they were really suspicious, because they couldn’t control us.

We had elements of protest and escapism.

There were those who moved to Caucasia,

lived in a cave,

and dedicated themselves to spiritual practice.

Some were always going somewhere.

While others cared about the society,

protested via their means of expression –

arts, music or paintings.

In that sense it was a rapidly evolving open system.

So the name “System” fit quite well.

Bright mornings

Come in a beautiful procession.

Michael Tamm became the centre of this movement of alternative people

looking for knowledge, philosophy and freedom.

Because he was really a free person.

He got no right to work, no permission to leave home,

no medicine, no income. Only the help of friends.

Me and my friends, we hippies, discovered Rama around 1975.

And Rama became the centre point

for many Soviet hippies, dissidents and mystics.

His place became a forest academy of secret sciences and philosophy.

It was very special and important.

At his place many people experienced something

they wouldn’t have felt as strongly anywhere else.

Well, freedom is freedom. It was just interesting to travel.

We travelled all across the Soviet Union.

We went to Gauja for hippie summer camp.

The petrol was cheap, so off we went.

Here’s the motorcycle of Penzel. Look at his face…

The pacifist symbol – moto-hippie!

Many feared him, didn’t understand him,

but we loved him for he was one of a kind.

Penzel had many girls.

I watched a boxing match till 3 a.m.

I’m not just a hippie, I’m also a biker, a drunk, a boxing fan.

I masturbate. Is it recording?

I don’t have a woman. I’m old, poor, where would I get one?

And afterwards…

I’d need to feed her, clothe her, you understand…

What’s my story? History knows everything.

We love rock'n'roll.

Peace, love and freedom!

What’s English for “I don’t like”?

I don't like the Soviet Union,

communist party, KGB.

Russia, fucking hell!

I was a hippie since a very early age in my mind.

I love motorbikes, I don’t like to wash, or to cut my hair.

And I turned out like an easy rider.

But do I stink? – No.

Because I’m all natural. Those who wash, stink in two days.

But if I stink, it’s from my age – after all, I’m almost 70…

I’m in parallel to the Hells Angels – a moto-hippie.

In XI grade someone spread a rumour

of a Union-wide hippie gathering taking place at the Town Hall Square.

That many people would come.

I had already noticed some suspicious men following me to school every day.

Always the same faces, kept a distance, waited outside.

When I went back out, they were still there.

One day I was called to the teachers’ room

and a strange man talked to me there:

“What are you planning at the Square?

Don’t even think about going there.

If you care about your future and family,

you better stay away from such things!”

So on the 1st of June 1971 we planned to hold a demonstration,

to walk past the American Embassy, in protest against the war in Vietnam.

The idea was prepared by Sunny, Yura Burakov.

He asked the authorities for a permission for the demonstration,

and he got it.

It was formally against the American war in Vietnam –

the demonstration for pacifism.

The war in Vietnam was a good pretext to legalize the meeting of hippies.

People started gathering, making placards.

A huge crowd, everybody invited friends.

Because why not express ourselves as hippies…

About half an hour before the beginning someone said that

Sunny had been arrested on Pushkin Street.

There was a moment of confusion.

But we had planned the route, the time.

We got into columns, took a few steps.

Then some guys appeared, with badges, shouted: “Everybody, freeze!”

At night, I heard on the Voice of America

that around 3000 people were arrested.

Everybody was arrested.

Students were expelled from universities.

“Fulfil the plans of the Communist Party!”

Some were fired from their jobs.

One guy even ended his life, jumped out of a window.

I think it was an act of provocation by the authorities.

Not sure whether it was the KGB or police.

It changed the movement radically.

Partly, they achieved their goal,

because the hippies went more underground.

The movement became more political because of the authorities.

It was my experience, and also Sunny’s.

He stayed the same as before. He didn’t disappear like many did.

He just became a drunk. In the end he hit rock bottom.

But even then he was respected.

The KGB kept a close eye on everything.

They took photos, notes, they had piles of records…

The KGB truly systemised the System. Not us, but them.

“President” of the “hippie” organisation

In May 1972, Romas Kalanta committed suicide by burning himself.

It was a shock.

Many came to his funeral, but the KGB had already dumped his body.

People brought flowers to his death place.

The streets were very narrow there and the authorities blocked them off.

So it turned into a riot.

For a few days, Kaunas was a free city.

Until the Soviet military entered the city.

People were forced into believing that

the peace symbol is the same as the swastika.

In Tuapse I was arrested.

I began cutting myself with a razor blade.

It wasn’t dangerous, but it looked horrible.

The policemen turned pale: “Stay calm, we’ll call an ambulance!”

They didn’t want to get into trouble.

So, that method really worked.

Aare and his friends decided to travel to Moscow

for the annual hippie gathering on the 1st of June.

Mountain clouds settled down on a plain.

The river turned into muddy home-brew.

White flags turned dark in the rain.

Let’s drink from a flask and wait.

Maybe the river will become clear again.

Maybe it will, but for now we wait.

White flags and freedom from victories.

Drink from the flask, there is no fight.

Drink from the flask, filled with the stream.

White flags, white peace.

I haven’t been here for 30 years.

But it seems like yesterday!

Déjà vu.

OM.

So what is it? – “Tamm Rama Om.”

“Om Rama Tamm” or…? – “Tamm Rama Om.”

One of our mantras.

It's amazing that this spiral is still here.

Simply put, it destroys the magic of KGB.

It sends an empty agent inside the system.

It works like a black hole

and it should destroy the system within.

You're connected to the spiral by a wire.

And a crown.

The wire connects the crown with the spiral.

I bought this house for Rama in 1978,

his home for his last three years in the USSR.

At last, he got the permission to leave.

He said: "Permit means the system is weak."

Meaning that it will collapse very soon.

And we decided to follow him.

Almost all of us in his circle emigrated.

Some escaped, some made a mock marriage.

I paid a Columbian lady a few thousand dollars

and we made a mock marriage.

You used to be hippies?

You either are a hippie, or you’re not.

The main idea was “Make Love Not War”,

“All you need is love”, “Flower power”.

But we didn’t avoid self-defence.

More than once I was beaten up –

“You don’t respect the Soviet power? Why the long hair?”

Beaten for that.

Why did you become hippies? – Because we were sick of it!

Did you take drugs? I’m just curious…

There is a difference between drugs.

Our drugs were all from natural sources.

Opium and weed were grown in pure fields!

Everything was gathered from there and…

Right now there’s a market economy.

They just want to get you addicted.

So that they can make more money.

Okay, thank you!

All the best, good bye!

The smoke of opium is in the air.

Old people appear so young.

Everything seems so light.

Wind is blowing at your back.

The world of illusions and bright dreams.

Go get Aare from the bus. He is crying.

Who is crying? – Aare is crying!

The doors are open and it rains inside.

Since my physical body is so worn down,

that it cannot handle physical travel,

I was escorted back home the next day.

But I survived.

No one can ever prohibit mind-travel as long as there’s a functioning mind.

Hello, Marina! So how do we…?

I’m here…

No.

Ahh! Yes!

Your grandpa says hello from Tallinn.

Where do we look? Aare, hello!

Say hello to your grandpa.

Do you want to open it? Be careful!

The scarf is a gift from the Dalai Lama.

Wow, I cannot believe this! What a present!

It’s Aare!

Do you recognise your grandfather? – Yes.

Fanya, here’s the case – will you welcome us at your place?

No, no, we have our own bus. We are 10 people.

Oh, even if there was 100, thank you!

Everything changes, Fanya. This is the law.

Only one thing doesn’t change – the one we worship.

Where’s the house? Point!

Is the house still standing?

The landlord isn’t here, he’s in hospital.

Let’s get the party going!

I only have one question –

did we really have to drive 400 km extra to get here?

How come 400 km?

Here is Belarus. Here is Smolensk. – I know. You’ve got a map.

We go like this… – From where?

From there you can go to Belarus, from here we can get to this highway.

Leningrad – Kiev.

My goodness!

It smells so bad that I cannot stay here!

It smells of cats. I have an allergy, I can't stay here.

I don’t understand why we came here.

Everyone said we need to go to Smolensk,

that there are friends waiting for us.

Last time this was all full of dope.

We could easily find a whole bagful.

Wohoo! Look at this!

Phoenix in colourful lights flies above

the statue of Jimi Hendrix.

He burns down in fire, he is born again.

The cherry garden of Jimi Hendrix

showers with flowers and blooms again.

Maybe Jimi dissolved in heroin,

but not forever, not forever!

This is Alik from Lviv, from Ukraine.

Aksel, old man! How are you doing? Where are you?

No, listen. I’m for the Baltic states.

Russia – somehow…

I respect and love my friends, hippies.

But the idiots who run this terrible war,

killing people – I don’t want them!

Aksel, our friends are listening to us:

hippism – we say: “We are pacifists!”

Why don’t the idiots in Moscow

demonstrate against the war in Ukraine?

Why don’t they go out on the streets

like our peers against the war in Vietnam?

1st of June, Moscow

The annual hippie gathering in memory of the tragic arrests in 1971.

1st of June – the day of hippies!

Moscow, Tsaritsyno, 1st of June every year.

Scorpion! Holy shit!

Freedom – it is the single and true state of a human.

That’s why we wanted to be free

when we all had to walk under red flags.

But now – even more!

This is an unusual place.

It’s like we’ve just sunk into the System,

when we go back, the world is different.

Like it’s a different world here.

It’s most important to have peace –

Not just peace between countries, but also spiritual peace inside.

I’m happy that we are still alive, many of us have already passed away.

I’ve come here on the 1st of June for 40 years!

How do I say – with every generation the shades of the meaning change.

We were more political under Soviet power.

Now there’s no Soviet rule,

but still I have to be ashamed of being a Russian

because Putin is in power – I don’t get it.

We are against all the wars, including the one raging now in Ukraine.

We’re against this war. We all agree, right guys? – Yes.

I agree with Russia’s political position.

Estonians may dislike it, but I agree.

There’s nothing we can change.

Nobody listens to any demonstration, like the ones held on the streets.

No one is allowed to change anything, no one listens.

So… Why should we… then lose our happiness?

We just somehow ignore the politics. What’s the point?!

We seemingly have democracy and more freedom.

That’s why in this imaginary freedom it’s even harder to see true freedom.

If my heart did not get tired

doctoring someone else’s sorrow.

I would not put my head down,

I would start all over for the 100th time.

If my voice did not fail

Cursing the stupidity and anger.

I would sing once again,

Loving and embracing the world.

This is a shithole! Not a democratic country, but a shithole!

The park is closing!

Sunny died in 1993 in a Moscow hospital,

unknown to the new hippie generation.

Rama Tamm chose the magic date of 22.11.02

to leave his earthly body in Boston, USA.

That night, Fanya escaped from the hospital, risking his health to meet his friends.

On the way home he died due to internal bleeding.

His body was found three days later.

OM

Peace, love and respect to all of you

whose legacy remains alive in this film.