The uncomfortable history of Narva

Spectator

a day ago

The Alaska talks between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin might have happened on American territory, but the symbolism of their location is a win for the Russian President. Alaska is considerably closer to Russia than it is to the rest of mainland America, and it was once a Russian territory. Putin was returning to a land previously conquered by his people. On Russia's opposite border, to the west, it is Russia's imperial past, and Putin's twisted view of shared history, that worries Europeans.
Narva, Estonia's third largest city, is a strange place, and seems even stranger since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. The Narva river – from which the city gets its name – separates Estonia from Russia; two fortresses stand across each other imposing on the landscape, the 13th century Hermann Castle on the Estonian side and the 15th century Ivangorod Fortress on the Russian side. Two other symbols of Russian influence are hard to miss in the town: the Orthodox Church, and a now abandoned 19th century textiles factory that suffered in the years following the collapse of the USSR.
Over 90 per cent of Narva's population speak Russian. This worries many Estonians, who think Putin could invade under the pretext of protecting this minority. For years, Estonia's Russian minority wasn't considered problematic. That has changed since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Estonia has begun phasing out Russian as a first language in education and it plans to remove the voting rights of foreign citizens in local elections. In Narva, long queues now form at the aptly named 'Friendship Bridge' – a 162 mile Soviet-era bridge that links Estonia to Russia. Vehicle travel was banned in 2024, and it can take hours to cross now. In recent weeks, Estonia has begun installing metal gates on the bridge for further deterrence.
One-hundred-and-thirty miles away in Tallinn, Estonia's modern, bustling and charming capital, opposition to Russia is hard to avoid. The Russian Embassy is in the centre of town and the makeshift riot fences, protecting the building from protestors, are plastered with posters. 'Putin is a Killer' stands out among a sea of red handprints and pictures of the late Alexei Navalny. A smattering of protestors gather every week outside the embassy to protest. This isn't new. It started in 2008 following the Russian invasion of Georgia, but has grown in size since.
There are many reminders of Estonia's Soviet past. One of the most imposing buildings on the Tallinn skyline is the high-rise Hotel Viru. The rectangular 1970s block is a prefab building built in 1972 that stands imposing on the outskirts of the old city walls. The hotel is still in use, but it's more popular for the secrets held on its top floor – once upon a time it was the unofficial headquarters of the KGB in Estonia. The floor was out of bounds and, with only foreign dignitaries and visitors allowed to stay in the hotel. It was an open secret that rooms were bugged. In the confusion of the early 1990s as the USSR fell, KGB operatives slowly snuck out of the hotel. Locals were so terrified that it was weeks before they accessed the top floors to discover the spying devices and records left behind.
Earlier this year when I toured the building, my Estonian guide told me he felt he could say 'with certainty' that 'the USSR is back'. It sounded like hyperbole, but only this week Estonia declared a Russian diplomat persona non grata. The Baltic memory of Russian espionage runs deep.
Estonia became an independent sovereign nation in 1991 for only the second time in its history; both times bookended by Russia, with the former being the collapse of the Russian Empire in 1919. The pattern is the same for its Baltic neighbours Lithuania and Latvia. This history of Russian interference in the Baltics is why Estonians are still uneasy.
The Baltic governments of the post-Soviet era were determined not to repeat the mistakes of their first period of collective independence. The countries were swallowed up by the USSR during the second world war and debate still rages between the Baltics, who view it as an occupation, and the Russians, who argue they protected them from the Nazis. The violence and oppression across the Baltics at the hands of the Soviets was so bad that many citizens quietly celebrated when the Nazis occupied them for several years in the middle of the war, though this isn't something many would be keen to highlight.
The post-war period heralded almost half a century of Soviet occupation. Once the USSR fell, the Baltic nations lobbied, and fiercely planned, to turn west – and, less than a decade later, they joined both the EU and Nato on the same day. This is what has set the three nations apart from other former parts of the USSR which have faced continuous Russian interference – namely Ukraine and Georgia.
The Russian threat for the Baltics remains, however. Estonia and Latvia are vulnerable across their eastern borders with Russia; Lithuania's longest border is with Belarus; and the exclave of Kaliningrad (between Lithuania and Poland) is just 40 miles from the Russian-backed autocracy. An incursion across this strip, the Suwalki Gap, would cut the Baltic nations off from the rest of Europe in one fell swoop.
Half a century of Baltic history was determined by the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact, the carving up of Europe between the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany. Many Europeans have long feared that Putin will seek to do similar with Trump. For Estonians, suddenly Alaska doesn't seem so far away.