Lined by tank barriers on either side, the ‘Bridge of Friendship’ now sounds like a bad joke. On one bank lies Narva, a municipality of Estonia and one of the easternmost corners of the European Union; on the other lies the Russian city of Ivangorod. Where border officials from both countries once met for consultations, they now only glower at each other from 100 metres away.
Some say this is where World War Three might start. In 2022, shortly after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Vladimir Putin mused that Narva was historically part of Russia and would need to be ‘taken back’. The statement set off alarm bells in Estonia and NATO, sparking fears that the country’s third-largest city could be the target of Putin’s next expansion into Europe.
Estonian border guards on the border post on the bridge over the Narva river. In the past they would meet their Russian counterparts in the middle to check documents. Photo: Mario Heller/ Panos Pictures.
To some extent, these concerns are justified. Some 97 per cent of Narva’s residents speak Russian, and many have family across the border. As early as 1993, shortly after Estonia won its independence, the city and surrounding areas voted overwhelmingly for autonomy in an unofficial referendum, a vote the government in Tallinn declared unconstitutional. Many believe Moscow supported the referendum behind the scenes.
Today, Estonia’s opposition to Russian influence in Europe is stronger than ever. The small Baltic country is one of Ukraine’s staunchest supporters, providing it with more military aid in relative terms than any other country. For the inhabitants of Narva however, the connection to Russia is deeper and more complicated.
A man takes an early morning dip in the Narva river in the shadow of the imposing Russian fortress of Ivangorod towers. Until 1918, Narva and Ivangorod were united under Russian rule. Photo: Mario Heller/ Panos Pictures.
Long Russian legacy
‘The biggest attraction in Narva is, of course, Russia,’ says the city’s mayor, Katri Raik. We are tired of the stupid Germans or Swiss who just come here to gawp at Russia.’ Until 1918, Narva and Ivangorod were united under Russian rule, but after the First World War, the Narva river became the border of independent Estonia. This freedom ended abruptly in 1940 when the city was invaded by Soviet troops, then spent a brief stint in the grip of German forces, followed by a long Soviet occupation until 1991.
Katri Raik, Narva’s mayor, has lived in the city for over 25 years and says she’s tired of tourists coming just to look at Russia, the city’s ‘biggest attraction’. Photo: Mario Heller/ Panos Pictures.
During the decades of Soviet rule, Narva became an industrial city with thousands of newly settled Russian workers in prefabricated housing estates. Links to Russia remained strong, and until recently it was quite normal for people to go shopping in Russia, visit friends or travel to St Petersburg for the weekend.
After the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Estonia’s government increasingly distanced itself from Russia, and the country’s Soviet past. Later that year, Prime Minister Kaja Kallas ordered the removal of all Soviet monuments. In Narva, this included a Second World War T-34 tank, which caused an uproar among the population. Today, the government advises against crossing the border, and those who still want to enter Russia can expect to wait up to 10 hours.
Raik, who grew up in the Soviet Union and used to travel frequently to Russia, was accused by some of Narva’s Russian-speaking population of trying to erase an important part of history. Her stance is clear. ‘Anyone who wants to, can move to Russia at any time,’ she said, ‘but no one does, because everyone knows that Estonia is a free country.’
Fractured identities
For many of Narva’s 54,000 residents, their relationship with Russia and sense of national identity are more problematic. ‘We don’t really feel like Estonians,’ says Kirill, a 23-year-old student. He and his girlfriend Durya were born in Narva and grew up speaking Russian. ‘When we worked in Tallinn, we were treated like slaves and often faced discrimination. People gave us the nickname “onions”, because of the Orthodox churches and their onion domes.’
Kirill and his girlfriend Durya were both born in Narva, Estonia but their language and culture is entirely Russian, which has complicated their sense of identity. Photo: Mario Heller/ Panos Pictures.
In Narva, they don’t face such discrimination, but a lack of economic prospects is pushing them to consider a move abroad. With unemployment in the city around 10 per cent, well above the national average, many businesses have closed and opportunities are scarce. Durya currently works part-time in a bookshop, where she earns only three euros a day.
The issue of language also weighs heavily on the couple’s sense of belonging in Estonia. Recent education reforms stipulate all teaching should be in Estonian, effectively phasing out Russian-language schools across the country. Neither Durya nor Kirill is politically active, but they worry that these reforms will displace Russian culture in Estonia and alienate them further. ‘Why should I learn Estonian?’ asks Durya. ‘Even if I speak it perfectly … for [other Estonians] I will always remain Russian.’
Readiness for war
Across the city, at the headquarters of the Kaitseliit, Estonia’s voluntary defence army, some of Narva’s residents are more actively reckoning with the possibility of conflict with their eastern neighbours.
Here, young people like 17-year-old Maria Morozova are taught how to prepare for war. From the age of seven, they can join the Noored Kotkad (Young Eagles) and the Kodututred (Daughters of the Homeland) where they learn how to use maps and survive alone in the forest. ‘Nobody lured me here,’ Maria says laughing. ‘I came of my own accord … I wanted to join a more serious organization where I could contribute and, if necessary, defend the country.’
Maria Morozova is a member Kaitseliit, Estonia’s voluntary defence league, and says if necessary, she would fight to defend her country. Photo: Mario Heller/ Panos Pictures.
The Kaitseliit has grown in political significance in recent years. In February 2024, Hanno Pevkur, Estonia’s defence minister, reiterated the need for increased readiness. At 3.2 per cent of GDP, Estonia’s military budget reflects this priority. Maria’s commitment to military training is linked to her sense of being Estonian. ‘I speak Estonian better than many others here in Narva,’ she says. Her story is unusual. Though she has Russian-speaking parents, she was born in England and only came to Estonia aged seven. When the family returned to Narva, Maria transferred to a Russian school and had to quickly improve her Russian.
Today she is proud of her language skills and has a clear stance on national identity. ‘If you live in Estonia and have Estonian citizenship, you are Estonian. It is understandable why Estonia wants its citizens to speak Estonian. This should not be seen as oppression or harshness,’ she says.
