Dispatch from Narva

NARVA-In a redbrick neogothic building — once the residence of a British industrialist named John Carr — a rich polyphonic chorus is singing a distorted melody present in both the Finnish and Estonian national anthems.

Finnish, Estonian and Estonian-Russian voices are channelled through individual speakers on sticks but form a coherent harmony. It seems like an idealised version of what Narva — or perhaps Estonia as a whole — could be.

This is an installation at one of the few surviving pre-Second World War buildings in a very Soviet-looking Narva. More than 90 per cent of the 60,000 inhabitants of this Estonian-Russian border city are native Russian speakers.

Since Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014 this sizeable Russian population has been the subject of widespread speculation about whether they would be the next national minority to turn on their home country. And, after Russia invaded Ukraine in February, Estonia became more heavy-handed addressing vestiges of the old Soviet occupation, especially war graves and structures honouring the Red Army.

Last Tuesday, a controversial Soviet-era T-34 tank memorial was removed from its plinth, despite overwhelming local popularity and following weeks of debates. Eleven people were detained overnight for “violent” resistance or placing military symbols at its former site, according to Estonian media.

“It is precisely to ensure public order that all of these monuments need to be removed, before tensions or anxiety build,” Estonian Prime Minister Kaja Kallas told reporters in Narva on August 8. Meanwhile, the ruling coalition agreed to switch to solely Estonian language education from 2025 after discussions that took place in the process of forming the July 18 government.

Yet, many younger Russian speakers in Narva seem to harbour no illusions about the war in Ukraine, and have little love for the country. “The Russian world was always toxic but now it’s more toxic than ever,” said Viktor Antipov, a 26-year-old poet who has Estonian citizenship.

“The older generation is confused because when the Soviet Union collapsed they needed some kind of hole to fill. They needed to fill it. The Estonian government did not do this. I think probably the younger generation of Narva, they feel too left out to have an identity.”

“In my opinion the generational divide plays a big role in support/non-support for what Russia is doing,” says Nastya Tuuder, from Estonia’s Integration Foundation. But as always there are some exceptions. Depending on who you speak to in Narva there will always be a variety of different opinions about the war, the Soviet occupation era and just how “Estonian” or “Russian” someone might feel.

In Narva there is a particular geographic pocket that seems to be home to a higher concentration of Putin supporters — vatniki, as they are derogatorily known. From Kulgu, a district recently unironically rebranded as the city’s “Venice”, you can see Russia over the river.

It has a certain rustic charm. Waterways are partially covered in dense clusters of lilies and lined with hundreds of old Soviet garages whose owners appear suspicious of foreign journalists.

One 40-year-old, ‘Pasha’ (a pseudonym) is willing to chat while he drinks. He said the Estonian state had “fucked us, they fucked us twice. First in the 1990s [after independence from the USSR] and second, when they closed these Russian schools. What did we do wrong? We are like n****s. Estonia gave me nothing.”

Pasha admits that a war is going on, but refuses to believe that Russia is responsible — instead laying the blame at America’s feet. “Who started it, Ukraine or Russia?” he asked, rhetorically. “Four hundred per cent it was America, because all over the world America puts its nose in.” Such insular communities often repeat the same suspicions to one another.

One 18-year-old Ukrainian, who preferred not to give his name, said of the Kulgu community: “I spoke to one man [there] and he said he had a friend from the Russian side that’s in Ukraine [fighting]. They have friends, family that are responsible for [the invasion].”

More broadly, though, there seems to be a tacit understanding among the people of Narva that it is simply safer not to discuss geopolitics so they can co-exist without serious friction. “Only on a few occasions have I had the courage to bring it up and deal with it, it’s such an emotional topic,” said Johanna Rannula, an Estonian who runs the Narva Art Residency.

The proportion of ethnic Estonians in Narva is now 6 per cent (prior to WWII, Narva was 65 per cent Estonian, but only 4 per cent post-independence) as of the last census — miniscule relative to Estonia as a whole. “When Estonian people go to work in Narva it’s sort of missionary work,” Rannula joked.

While Narva’s Estonian speakers might previously have been willing to meet Putin-sympathisers halfway, their tolerance is declining, especially if it may have felt forced to begin with. The attack on Ukraine has polarised an already tense situation. Rannula has become more militant about hot local issues such as removing Soviet monuments. At the same time, her institute holds Russian-language events so that locals can mix with more ‘westernised’ young people.

There is a long and painful history behind Estonian attitudes. During the brutal Soviet occupation of Estonia which ended three decades ago, Estonian speakers were forced to learn Russian, but often Russians never bothered to learn Estonian (Antipov and Pasha, of Russian descent, both did in order to cement their citizenship). Estonia now plans to eliminate Russian-language classes from the entire country’s pre-school and primary education systems by 2024. Tuuder, of the Integration Centre, has studied how younger Russians in Narva feel about the reform and they appear grudgingly understanding.

“The prevailing narrative was that Estonians and Estonian Russians are equal in their rights or if not, then by learning Estonian the minority can achieve the same rights or opportunities as Estonian have,” she said. “Even though some of them may not agree to the language policy of Estonia, they understood why it is so.”

Members of the older, Soviet-era generation disagree. Yana Toom, an MEP and former chair of the Estonian Centre Party’s Narva chapter, who was once married to the son of the local KGB chief in Estonia, has spoken out against the war — but still stands firm on her position that Estonia should be catering more to Russian speakers in the region.

She is unhappy about the prospect of Estonia’s schools becoming 100 per cent Estonian language and argues Narva should be the exception to accommodate local Russians who have not learned Estonian. “In a city where circa 95 per cent of the population are Russian-speaking this will certainly be a disaster,” she said.

As discussions surrounding the Soviet tank developed, Toom was one of many local Russians who prickled at the possibility of it being removed. “[The monument] is important to Narva’s people and should be and should be preserved,” she said. Russia’s President Vladimir Putin’s spokesman Dmitry Peskov also termed its prospective removal “outrageous”.

The tank was not particularly conspicuously placed in the city, but rather on an isolated stretch of road between the city centre and the beach. Yet, the week before its removal, the thoroughfare was packed with cars as locals flocked to visit the T-34. “I would say that if not a majority then at least a sizable minority is against removing it,” said Tuuder at the time. Narva Mayor Katri Raik has also emphasised its importance to locals, to little effect it seems, saying,“ the tank can and should remain in Narva.”

The heads of government stood firm; it seemed they had already made up their minds. “A tank is a murder weapon, it is not a memorial object, and these same tanks are killing people,” Kallas said at the beginning of August.

Now, it is taking up new residence in the Estonian War Museum in Viimsi, north of Tallinn — and some 200km from its former home in the border city.

A previous version of this article stated that Yana Toom is an MEP from Narva. It has been updated to clarify that she was head of the Centre Party’s Narva chapter.