To avoid oversaturation, I will not comment on the Estonian language on Mother Tongue Day. Instead, I have chosen a quote by Viivi Luik as the title — one that is not only well-worded but also deeply profound: "It is difficult to recognize the madness of one's own time."

That is exactly how it is. I remember a conversation with my mother long ago when I asked her why so few people in Estonia in 1939 realized that something serious might happen. She said she had grown up as a free 18-year-old in a free Estonia and had never imagined that the world could fall into such ruin. In her view, fear fades away after 20 years and everything starts to feel permanent. "I was simply naive," she said.

When it comes to assessing political situations, mistakes are more the rule than the exception. A few months before the Winter War, Finnish Minister of Economy Väinö Tanner wrote to President Juho Kusti Paasikivi, urging him to dismiss the commander of the defense forces, Carl Gustaf Mannerheim, because he was predicting war. "The world cannot go that mad!" But it did.

A few months before the fall of the Berlin Wall, neither Mikhail Gorbachev nor German Chancellor Helmut Kohl believed that German reunification could be possible in the coming decades. Both were spectacularly wrong. When it comes to assessing Vladimir Putin's plans and character, most European and world leaders have been wrong on an almost majestic scale.

This raises an important question: are we able to grasp the madness of our own time? I'm not sure. A significant part of today's analysis focuses on Donald Trump — his statements, actions and plans. After all, in a short time, he has completely upended previous notions of diplomacy and international relations.

I propose a theoretical explanation for Trump's seemingly bizarre communication style. His speeches have been analyzed extensively, and it is astonishing how he denies today what he said yesterday — and vice versa. And yet, each time, he genuinely believes he is right at that moment. And many people like it.

If we look closer, the communication strategy he employs has been known worldwide for nearly a century. Its architect, of course, was Hitler's propaganda minister, Joseph Goebbels. This method is used in many countries — even here.

It consists of four key steps. The first is selecting a specific group to blame for society's troubles. For Goebbels, it was the Jews. Depending on the situation, it could also be Roma, homosexuals or other minorities. For Trump — and in many other countries — it is migrants. We have seen similar narratives here as well.

The second step is aggressive attacks on this group — sharp, colorful and emotional rhetoric that often crosses traditional moral boundaries. The language must be simple, the outrage palpable and repetition frequent. The goal is to make it clear that without this group, everything would be better. Some people love this approach because it projects an image of a strong leader.

But this alone may not be enough. The third step is action-based propaganda. Uniforms, shirts, emblems and colors play a significant role. Trump's symbol is bright red. In many countries, torch marches are effective, particularly for men, who feel more masculine when wearing uniforms and standing together.

The fourth step is the most difficult — Trump has not succeeded in it, nor has it worked in Estonia. It requires gaining the support of the cultural elite. To achieve this, the harsh rhetoric must be temporarily toned down to appear more reasonable. The goal is to make left-leaning intellectuals say: "They may talk nonsense, but they have a point on some issues!" — and ultimately, to win their votes.

The resistance from cultural figures is a major problem for Trump. It is difficult to identify with him or Elon Musk. Many top celebrities are fiercely anti-Trump.

Putin, on the other hand, bends Russia's cultural elite to his will through fear, threats, arrests and exile. Fortunately, such methods are not applicable in the United States.

As you can see, even in the apparent madness of the time, there is sometimes a system. Whether understanding it makes any difference, I dare not say. The times we live in are like looking through a kaleidoscope — a slight turn and the picture changes.

To conclude, I pose a question that I have encountered in several articles, have asked myself and that perfectly captures the strangeness of our era:

How is it possible that a 500-million-strong Europe is asking for military aid from a 300-million-strong United States to defend itself against a 130-million-strong Russia, whose GDP is ten times smaller than Europe's and which is already struggling against a 30-million-strong Ukraine?

It's a mystery, isn't it? Maybe one of you has an answer.

Viivi Luik is right: "It is difficult to recognize the madness of one's own time."

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