Let's start with books before moving on to more important matters. Not that reading a book is any less important. I asked you to choose a quote from your favorite series, Jules Verne's "Extraordinary Voyages." What did you pick?

There are, of course, several, since Jules Verne's adventure stories were one of my favorite books from an early age. I've read them – well, not all of them, because I didn't particularly enjoy "The Leatherstocking Tales." But yes, the quote... What might have given me yet another push is the idea that what is imaginable today will, at some point, become reality. In other words, if we see something as impossible today, it actually isn't. After some time, it will all become possible. We've seen this even in relatively recent history. When President Kennedy (U.S. President John F. Kennedy) said that it was necessary to go to the moon, it happened within ten years. All our technology, science and education were mobilized to make it happen. And I think we in Estonia should approach some things the same way – if there's a good idea, we should really focus all our efforts on making it a reality.

I'll counter with another book: "Euroopa tango" ("European Tango"). Andrei Anissimov writes about the year 2075 and mentions something called a scan booth. The idea is that, while today we send emails – a process where we create the original and a sort of copy reaches the recipient – the scan booth would work similarly but with people. A person would be instantly sent from one place to another. Do you think something like that could actually happen one day?

Well, that's an old concept. We even had Wiplala, who wanted to magic himself from one place to another. The idea isn't new. And I do believe that, in some form, it will be achievable in the future. Maybe not exactly in that specific way, but today, certain things already move from one place to another – and quickly, perhaps even faster than we'd like.

What we really need are scientists who have received an excellent education and live here in Estonia, within the Estonian cultural sphere. The year 2025 will be the Year of the Book – marking 500 years since the first printed text in Estonian. Interestingly, we also celebrated the Year of the Estonian Book in 1935, and that was actually the first time. There seems to be a bit of a logical inconsistency between celebrating in 2025 and 1935, doesn't there?

Estonia is fortunate. That first book containing Estonian text also included Latvian text. We're not alone in this; we have friends who are also celebrating 500 years. But that's just how it is for us. The University of Tartu celebrates its anniversary twice, and now the city of Tartu does too – whether it's 800 years or starting from 1030, depending on your preference. So it's wonderful that we have reasons to celebrate, especially when it comes to books.

Beloved Estonian actress Marika Vaarik recently said in an interview that if we cut funding for culture, children's books and plays must remain. A striking thought.

I'd like to add another thought to this: hobby groups. In times of budget cuts, I understand that actors and musicians also need salaries to live and create their music and works. But if we start cutting funding for hobby groups, especially outside of Tallinn, I think we'll have a problem. If young people can no longer develop their talents, then at some point, we won't have those talented artists in theaters, galleries or anywhere else. So I believe these cuts should not affect such programs.

And when we hear today that the Ministry of the Environment is cutting environmental education for children – eliminating funding and the ten people who worked on it – I think that's a bad idea. Environmental education doesn't necessarily have to fall under the Ministry of the Environment; it could, for example, be under the Ministry of Education. But if we don't teach young people about it... Many already can't recognize different types of mushrooms, let alone anything else. It's an extremely important area.

We wouldn't want children to start picking poisonous mushrooms; that's something they should know.

While agaric mushrooms are easy to recognize, there are many other mushrooms that are much harder to distinguish.

It seems that there is no money for education, no money for culture – there's no money anywhere. Let's put it in quotation marks – does that mean Estonia is just a poor country?

If you open the state budget and don't delve too deeply into the details – because we know it's hard to understand – it's enough to see how large the Estonian budget is. It's nearly €20 billion already. So saying we don't have money isn't really accurate. It's always a question of where to allocate it. There are areas or sectors where funding must absolutely be directed at a given time. I've said this many times before: budget cuts shouldn't be made with a ruler; instead, you need to carefully assess where to take away and where to add. And I think education, science and innovation are areas where funding should be increased, not reduced. In many other countries that have served as role models for us, such as Finland, they've found in tough times that these areas need more investment so that knowledge is available when it's needed.

Let's return to the state budget. Aivar Sõerd, a former finance minister and an expert in financial matters, abstained from voting in the Riigikogu, saying he didn't understand the budget. He didn't vote for or against it. Mr. President, do you understand the state budget? Should people be able to understand it too?

The state budget is, by nature, sometimes complex. But it must be presented in a way that people can understand – especially members of the Riigikogu. This is an old issue I've brought up many times in my previous role, criticizing the Riigikogu for the lack of clarity in the state budget. I even gave them a facsimile copy of the 1939 budget, where everything was clearly laid out: where the money comes from and where it goes. Take inspiration from that and see how a budget should look. Sometimes the accompanying explanatory notes specify down to €100 where the money will go, such as painting the walls of a specific school. But then there's €60 million labeled simply as "operating costs." It must be clearer and more understandable, especially with this activity-based budgeting.

What happens to us as a society if we attend fewer theater performances because there are fewer of them? If there are fewer exhibitions? If fewer books are written, particularly in Estonian? If less is translated? In a sense, we become poorer. What does this mean for society?

I hope it doesn't come to that.

I very much hope so too.

I hope these issues are temporary. Sometimes the time frame we set is too narrow. The economy naturally fluctuates. The fact that we're currently at a low point in many indicators is discouraging. Latvia is in a similar situation and perhaps even Finland isn't far off. But we must do everything possible to improve things. During these difficult times, literature must be kept alive. I don't subscribe to the idea that a writer writes or an artist paints only when they're poor and cold. They need a warm space and food on the table to do what they were called to do and what they do best.

I don't think the situation will become so dire – it just needs to be endured. As we can see in the business sector, people are being kept employed and unemployment hasn't risen during these tough times. Efforts are being made to ensure people don't leave, because bringing them back later is much harder. The same applies to someone deciding to find a new job – perhaps they'll stop composing music and find another field that's just as interesting. But we will have lost a talented person.

If we let up for a short while, does it impact our continuity? As the director of the Estonian National Museum (ERM), you had a wide playing field, passing by the Kukruse Lady every day on your way to your office, surrounded by the culture we've nurtured over such a long time. Could it be that if those roots become weaker and the world is so global, we might not be able to pull ourselves out of the hole we've dug when we've gone too deep?

Speaking of the ERM, at that time, a decision was made to make the ERM's permanent exhibition free for everyone. And I implemented it. Everyone could view the permanent exhibition without cost, so they didn't have to think about how much it would cost to visit with their entire family. That's one way to increase access to culture. Museums aren't raising their prices, even though it's hard for them. Because if visitors stop coming, they might not return for a long time. It's always necessary to strike a balance between survival and fulfilling the mission for which museums and theaters exist in Estonia.

Let's talk about education. This year, there has been a strong push toward transitioning to Estonian-language education and schools. The debates have been heated, with people angry, even furious.

It's not easy. We've been hoping for this for decades. There have been attempts before to implement Estonian-language education, but things don't happen by themselves. The step taken now is entirely the right one. But we must carefully monitor where setbacks occur and where intervention is needed, identifying the challenging areas. For example, in Narva, where you only hear Russian, how do you motivate someone to learn a language they might feel they don't need? Perhaps it would make sense to introduce a gap year after basic school. If there are language difficulties, students could spend a year simply learning Estonian.

As a way to catch up?

Exactly. For those who feel they won't manage in high school, one year might seem like a long time to lose. But consider how many young people go abroad as exchange students, return, repeat a grade and are better off for it. They haven't lost much from that year. Those who can continue straight to high school should, of course. But this one year could be dedicated to learning Estonian, not while also studying math in Estonian, but purely focusing on the language. Then they could move on to high school and study math in Estonian.

Estonian-language education lays the foundation for advancing Estonian-language culture, even for children whose native language is not Estonian.

Absolutely. You can learn a language at a conversational level without much effort to understand each other. Especially today, with chatbots and translation tools, it's not a huge challenge. But to grasp the nuances of an Estonian-language book, you need a deeper understanding of the language and familiarity with the culture. Culture doesn't begin today with one book – it's a continuous process and one the history of which must be known.

Could you, Mr. President, imagine being a math teacher at some point? There's a great shortage of teachers in math, physics, chemistry and biology.

I've taught biology before. At Gustav Adolf Grammar School, I've taught biology and also visited Narva College to teach biology to children. Those were isolated cases. You have to teach what you know. I couldn't teach math or physics because I'm not confident enough in those subjects, even at the second-grade level – though I suppose they don't have physics yet at that level.

They do have math.

But even there, you need to know what you're doing because teaching is an art in itself. You need to know the methods. We can bring in people with relevant expertise to give a lesson or two, share real-world experiences and connect subjects like physics to their work. But the foundation must come from trained teachers who are educated to teach.

We don't have enough teachers.

We do have teachers, but our teachers are getting older. This means that soon we won't have teachers anymore. Young teachers tend to leave schools for various reasons. One reason is the significant pressure from parents. The desire to provide children with a good education creates immense pressure on both students and teachers. When a teacher faces pressure from both the students and the parents and it starts dominating their work, many are likely to leave. We know how many people with teaching degrees are working outside the education field. Instead of only worrying about bringing in new teachers from universities, we should consider how to bring those who have left the profession back. What would motivate them? Salary isn't the only factor. We need to think about how to bring them back to teaching since they already have the necessary education.

I can't imagine how to entice someone with a degree in mathematics, now working at a top technology company, to become a teacher. What could we offer them?

The situation with technology companies is what it is – they come and go, especially startups. Some are born and others disappear. If there's a sense that they're needed and welcomed, perhaps some might consider trying teaching for a while. And maybe it would make sense for them to come for two or three years.

What about teaching via video? A teacher instructing three classes at once, with 90 young people watching via video – what do you think of that?

We often think that now, with videos, we no longer need teachers. But actually, they complement each other. When television came along, radio didn't disappear – it's still here. When the internet arrived, television didn't disappear either. They all complement one another, and the same goes for this type of teaching. We have teachers who are very good at their subjects and can perhaps convey the material more effectively. But there still needs to be a teacher on-site to provide further instruction. The same applies to universities. I recall an incident when lecture halls were equipped with cameras to record lectures so they wouldn't have to be repeated. The first question from a professor was, "Where's the off button?" rather than "How can I use this?" I think this mindset needs to change. Technology can and should be used.

Politicians often contrast funding for culture and education with funding for security. Can we even pose such a question, or should we?

Both need funding. We've already made decisions to increase our defense spending, and we are doing that now. I believe society understands that this is important right now – not for going to war but to prevent it. We talk too much about war. Defense spending is about ensuring that no one has the idea or desire to come here with malicious intent – not boasting about how bad we'll beat them if they do. Excessive talk about war creates fear, and fear is easy to instill. I recently spoke with President Stubb of Finland, who noted the same thing. There's an unwarranted fear that war is imminent, which it isn't. But funding is needed for both defense and culture and education. Resources are limited, so ministers and governments must make wise decisions and set the right priorities.

I've heard many young people discuss where they'd go if war broke out in Estonia. Is this fear a result of all the war talk and its effect on people?

The answer is simple: there's no need to go anywhere because there won't be a war. I believe our will to defend ourselves is strong enough. Surveys have shown this. But we don't want to test it. We definitely don't want to test Article 5 or see whether our people scatter or take up arms to defend the country. That's why we must do everything to ensure that no one even considers coming here.

Should we talk instead about having water bottles and canned food at home, not because of war but for other potential emergencies – power outages or natural disasters?

Exactly. It's about recognizing risks. Let's say there's thunder and lightning – that could knock out the power. You don't need to fear the thunder and lightning, but you should be prepared for the possibility of losing electricity. Have a flashlight, some extra food at home and a charged phone. These are simple things. The same principle applies to other risks.

Meanwhile, the war in Ukraine drags on. Could our former Prime Minister Kaja Kallas, now in a key European Union position focusing on foreign policy, security and defense, help bring this war to an end? After all, she has extensive knowledge of living next to Russia.

Kaja Kallas certainly has that knowledge, as do we all. But the European Commission consists of multiple countries, meaning that any representative's statements must align with the majority view. It's harder to act solo there. Still, it's good for small countries to have representation in important places – it's essential for us. I've discussed this with presidents of other small nations, and we support one another when there's a need to be present in a key council or secure a representative for an important position. It's crucial for small countries. And we have capable people – not just Kaja Kallas but also figures like Maive Rute, who may not be widely known but is from a small Estonian village and has risen to prominent positions in the European Commission. There are others, but they work not solely for Estonia but for the tasks required of them there.

Ending the war in Ukraine isn't just an Estonian concern.

The European Union has 27 member states, and beyond them, larger players like the United States and others are involved or have interests in some form. Ukraine itself, of course, is the most concerned. The key is that whatever decision is made, it cannot happen without Ukraine's input. History has shown that decisions made over the heads of those affected are rarely good ones.

Does Estonia, as a small country, play any role on the international stage?

Of course, we do. But we also need to ensure that we don't become overly aggressive in our approach. Sometimes, it's necessary to take a calmer stance. We don't need to be the first in everything. Shedding our inferiority complex would help.

Is that complex still present in us?

Yes, it is. But this sometimes creates situations where we want to be present or take the lead, even when we don't have the necessary knowledge or skills, and that can lead to significant setbacks. We should always think carefully, especially when reacting to something. If the situation isn't entirely clear, we don't need to rush to make the first tweet. Taking a moment to think wouldn't hurt. But sometimes being proactive is necessary. It's a matter of wisdom – how wise we are as a nation ultimately determines our success.

In which field could we say, "We, Estonia!" and really take pride?

I believe that, despite everything, we have an excellent education system – not just in terms of PISA test results but overall. A big part of this is due to the autonomy of our teachers, who are relatively independent in how they teach. The same applies to our universities. Universities and lecturers enjoy autonomy, which gives us a strong position and is a significant value we must preserve.

Our scientists are also notable globally. Take, for example, the Estonian Biobank. This year, when the biobank opened its doors to 200,000 gene donors, people were fascinated to explore their ancestry and genetic predispositions to certain diseases. There was a rush as people were eager to discover their origins – how much Neanderthal, Eastern European or Finno-Ugric ancestry they had. Are you a gene donor?

Yes, I am a gene donor. In fact, from the day I signed up, Estonia has celebrated DNA Day. So I also have a symbolic connection to being a gene donor. People are always interested in their history, and through genes, we can trace back far further – not just to the Great Northern War era via church records. People have always been fascinated by their roots, and the more intriguing those roots are, the greater the boost to one's self-awareness.

How much Neanderthal ancestry do you have?

I haven't checked. Estonia is divided into two groups here – those who want to know and those who don't. Some people prefer not to know how much Neanderthal DNA they have, what risks lie in their genes or whether their life will end in 10 or 50 years. Some simply don't want that knowledge and prefer to live the life they've been given. On the other hand, if you have a predisposition to a genetic disease, it's better to know, as today's medical advancements can help prevent or mitigate many conditions.

Genetic research can genuinely save lives. If a person knows they carry a gene that causes breast cancer, they can make informed choices.

That's true. As a former scientist, I value knowing over not knowing. The same applies to natural resources – it's better to know what we have than not know. Whether we exploit them is another question. We often conflate these two things due to our history. But understanding what's beneath our land is important. Knowledge itself doesn't make us smarter, but it gives us options.

How far back in history have you traced your roots? Where do the records end?

The clarity ends where the church records stop – many of them burned down. But in general, I know where my roots are and who my ancestors were. No princes or kings, just ordinary Estonians. My family lived in the same area as the "mad baron," so I like to imagine that von Bock and my great-great-grandfather met at the edge of a field for a chat. That's as close as I get to aristocracy.

Do Estonians want to find a bit of aristocracy or foreign blood in their lineage? Or is pure Estonian heritage more important?

Hard to say. People are fortunately different. Some enjoy discovering noble ancestors, while others find it merely an interesting fact. But it's always fascinating. I've always been drawn to history, and even in my current role, when explaining the situation in Ukraine, I often do so through historical parallels, including Estonian history. There are many connections.

Genetic research, like through the biobank, provides valuable insights to many people. Currently, you can't register as a new gene donor, but Estonians have been Googling it a lot. The most popular query is "how to vote?" and second, "how to become a gene donor?" Is this an area where we should allocate more funding?

There are two aspects here. First, how many donors does the biobank need to fulfill its tasks? We know that we're more "European" than unique, meaning the 200,000 donors we already have are sufficient for research and scientific studies. However, from an individual perspective, as people learn they can explore their own data, interest has grown.

It's not just about money; it's also about the time of medical professionals. Collecting this data takes time. In the past, participants were compensated for the 20 minutes it took to gather their data. Giving blood alone isn't enough – you need parallel information about the donor's health history, including their past. So, it's not purely a matter of funding.

Additionally, we haven't fully capitalized on the biobank commercially. There might be a business model where pharmaceutical companies or others could use this data ethically, following strict regulations. However, issues such as data protection and privacy make this complex.

How far should we go with genetic research and its applications in health? For instance, editing a gene to remove or modify it is already possible for rare diseases – it's no longer science fiction.

We can't currently do that in practice, but it could be done ethically in terms of future generations. It's not overly complex – something I could theoretically do in my kitchen, as I once did with mice in my research. However, precision is critical to avoid mistakes. Medicine is advancing rapidly in this field, and it's becoming possible to correct genetic mutations.

It's worth noting that many diseases aren't caused by a single gene but result from a combination of factors, including the internal and external environment. It's rarely as simple as one gene causing one disease.

You mentioned making biobank data more commercially viable. How well do Estonian scientists turn their knowledge into economic value across various fields?

We have a few notable examples, but in general, it's an ongoing challenge. The question of how to apply university-generated knowledge to business for humanity's benefit has been around for a long time.

I speak from experience, having started a company as a professor, so I know the difficulties involved. It's essential for universities and businesses to collaborate more closely. Mart Saarma, the incoming president of the Academy of Sciences, has advocated for this for years, if not decades. Scientists need to think about how their research can be applied in practical ways.

Yes, it takes time – five to ten years to develop a product that generates revenue. And along the way, many ideas fail and lead nowhere.

Periods of large-scale wars often drive technological advancements at an incredible pace. In Estonia, we're investing in the defense industry, with some top players in the field – drones and all the related technology. Could this be our key to the future?

Definitely. Many unicorn companies and startups are investing in this area, and even some generals have entered the field. Right now, something significant is happening, that's true. However, we also need to consider how much of this is actually being used in real wars. Perhaps drones are the only real innovation to emerge from the regrettable war in Ukraine. The rest remains a "meat grinder" of iron and machinery. That said, breakthroughs often occur, and military advancements frequently lead to solutions for civilian life. This has always been the case throughout history, and we need to think about how to adapt wartime innovations for everyday use.

Have our scientists managed to convince politicians how serious the climate crisis is? Your predecessor Kersti Kaljulaid was highly critical, saying the scientific community hadn't done a good enough job.

The issue with scientists is that they tend to stick to their specific fields of expertise. For example, as a geneticist, I wouldn't typically speak about space. One of Estonia's challenges in science may be that we don't have enough people capable of speaking authoritatively about climate. That doesn't mean all scientists need to address every issue or respond to political pressure. Our Academy of Science has around a hundred people, foreign members included, and plenty of differences of opinion. The charm of science lies in its debates and discussions, and we must preserve that freedom.

Scientists can fail too.

Generally, those who fail don't end up in the Academy of Sciences.

But they learn from failure and eventually find another path.

Absolutely. Scientists are no different from other professions – we can all fail at what we do. But it's essential for scientists to explain their work to the public in a way that's understandable. This helps people see the value of science. Everything around us, from refrigerators to washing machines, is the result of scientific work – it didn't come from nothing or divine intervention.

Do scientists in Estonia feel political pressure?

Occasionally, but it's not directly tied to funding. Scientists are taught from the beginning to be independent, though there are exceptions. However, telling scientists what to research or what results to deliver rarely works. There are a few rogue individuals who might follow such paths, but they are rare.

Do politicians expect results from scientists too quickly?

Politicians often want clear, definitive answers, but that's not how science works. Scientists present the current state of knowledge, including uncertainties and alternative possibilities. This creates a gap between scientific and political expectations. Politicians may also cherry-pick findings to suit their agendas, citing a single scientist's opinion as representative of all scientific consensus.

This approach can also be used to justify almost anything under the guise of science.

Exactly. Nowadays, anyone with basic Google skills can find scientific articles supporting even the most outlandish ideas. Scientific publications vary greatly in quality, and if you don't know how to critically evaluate them, it's easy to find something that seemingly validates your theories.

How much of Estonia's scientific research translates into real business innovation?

Too little, though the situation is improving. There's not much incentive for scientists to start companies or move into the business sector. However, there are companies today employing PhD holders, creating a connection between academia and industry. That's a positive development.

On the other hand, small companies often face such uncertainty about their future that research and innovation aren't their primary concerns. The state can help by providing a stable environment for businesses – or, as one entrepreneur told me, by simply not interfering.

That sentiment – "just don't interfere" – sounds critical. Has interference been an issue?

The interference mainly comes in the form of excessive bureaucracy, which stifles free thought and innovation in businesses. The state should identify and eliminate unnecessary hurdles, review European directives and adopt only the minimum requirements rather than exceeding them. Simplifying processes would create freedom for businesses, especially small ones, which often abandon their ventures due to excessive paperwork.

Without entrepreneurs, there would be no state to govern – they create jobs, pay taxes and sustain the economy.

Exactly. We should promote entrepreneurship more actively. We've swung too far in the other direction – when difficulties arise, people look to the state for aid packages instead of first asking what they can do themselves. Self-reliance should come first, with state support reserved for those who truly need it.

The term "overqualified" is often used negatively – "We can't hire you because you know too much or have too many degrees." Do we undervalue intelligence?

In some ways, yes. I have a personal example. I was in a garden shop buying stakes for plants and haphazardly placed about 20 on the counter. The cashier glanced at them and immediately rang them up without counting. I asked if she wasn't going to count them, and she replied, "I graduated from the University of Tartu; I can count them at a glance." While she clearly is overqualified, her overqualification made the process faster and more efficient.

We do want people to be smart, don't we?

Of course. But wisdom requires lifelong learning – it doesn't end with finishing university or vocational school. Continuous learning is essential, or you risk falling behind.

What have you learned as president so far?

Oh, many things! Every day brings surprises. One major lesson has been understanding how limited the president's powers are. Public expectations are much higher than what the Constitution allows. We receive letters asking why I don't dismiss certain ministers or veto certain laws. But unless a law is unconstitutional, I must stay within my legal boundaries, whether I like it or not.

Sometimes I see solutions and would love to intervene, but I can't. My role allows me to speak privately or publicly, but I cannot directly interfere in domestic issues.

Sometimes you must really want to intervene, though?

Certainly. It can be frustrating at times, not being able to act directly.

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