Thousands of voices filled the air in Tallinn over the weekend as Estonians gathered for their iconic Song and Dance Celebration. Despite heavy rainfall, the crowd remained undeterred, erupting in applause and joining in patriotic singing that echoed through the capital’s Song Festival Grounds.
Held every five years, the four-day festival is one of Estonia’s most cherished traditions. This year’s edition drew around 32,000 choir singers and over 10,000 dancers from across the country and beyond, with participants ranging from children to elders in their 90s. The event kicked off Thursday and reached its emotional peak on Sunday with a seven-hour concert that had sold out weeks earlier.
Rooted in 19th-century national awakening, the tradition gained new meaning in the late 1980s during Estonia’s Singing Revolution, when collective singing became a peaceful form of protest against Soviet rule. That spirit of unity still drives the celebration today, according to Rasmus Puur, one of this year’s conductors, who said Estonians are seeking solidarity in turbulent times, especially in light of Russia’s ongoing war in Ukraine.
“We want to feel as one today more than six years ago, and we want to feel that we are part of Estonia,” Puur told reporters on Friday.
This year’s theme spotlighted Estonia’s regional dialects and featured a mix of folk songs, new compositions, and beloved anthems. One of the most powerful moments came during the final performance of “My Fatherland is My Love,” a song spontaneously sung in defiance at the 1960 celebration and now a closing staple. Over 19,000 singers performed it on Sunday, joined by a sea of spectators waving Estonian flags.
Many participants, including Marina Nurming, who travelled from Luxembourg to join the European Choir of Estonians, described the experience as deeply emotional. “When we sang ourselves free” is how she remembers the Singing Revolution as a teenager.
The tradition has endured through wars, occupations, and independence. Even under Soviet rule, Estonians sang their songs alongside required propaganda, using music both as a quiet rebellion and a form of healing.
University of Tartu professor Elo-Hanna Seljamaa said the Soviet regime tried to co-opt the festival’s mass appeal but couldn’t erase its deeper meaning. The gatherings taught Estonians how to organize, which later fueled the peaceful protest movement that united the Baltics in song and resistance.
Now recognized by UNESCO as part of humanity’s intangible cultural heritage, the Song and Dance Celebration continues to draw performers from across the globe. Many collectives travel from abroad and spend months rehearsing to be part of it.
Karl Kesküla, an electrical engineer from the island of Saaremaa, joined as a singer for the first time after years of attending as a spectator. “I just wanted that feeling too,” he said, describing the sense of belonging that comes with participation.
From dancers to choir members, participants say the celebration brings Estonians together in ways few other events can.
“Estonians get through hard times through songs and dances,” said singer Piret Jakobson. “If it’s hard, we sing together and that brings everything back together.”
Engineer Taavi Pentma, who danced in the festival, added, “We are, like, breathing in one and the heart is beating as one.”
With every song sung and step taken, the tradition lives on, binding generations, resisting erasure, and reminding a small nation of its unbreakable voice.
9
