The Estonian border-city of Narva is seen as one of the places where Moscow may try to test NATO by launching a limited attack. As the region surrounding it, Narva has a large Russian-speaking population and is already a battleground for hearts and minds between the East and the West.
An increasingly hardened border
For people in the West watching the confrontation between Russia and Ukraine, Narva is associated almost exclusively with a hypothetical conflict between the Western democracies and Russia. The city’s residents, meanwhile, are more likely to be irritated when yet another group of reporters corners them with questions they have heard too many times: Are they afraid to live here? Do they expect an attack? Do they have relatives in Russia?
Yes, people here have plenty of relatives in Russia. And when another Ukrainian drone attack sets fire to St Petersburg’s outskirts or the city itself, even Russian-speaking supporters of Ukraine check whether their family and friends across the border are all right. The border is not fully closed yet, and people still cross the Narva River — some to visit, others to go home or to their summer cottages.
The difficulties of crossing the border are a story in themselves for Narva residents. Since the end of September, Estonia has been conducting full customs inspections on its side. In the first few days after the restrictions came in, people trying to enter Estonia faced queues that lasted for hours.
Few people now doubt that the border will eventually close completely. At the same time, businesses whose operations depend directly on the border are still active in Narva. One of them is the municipal company Transservis-N, which runs the waiting area near the border crossing and a car park where people travelling to Russia leave their vehicles: for some time now, it has been impossible to travel there from Narva by car. The company used to manage the vehicle queue and is now running at a loss. A few days ago, it asked the city government for €100,000 from the municipal budget to avoid bankruptcy.
The local authorities continue trying to win over residents by promising to build at least a shelter for people who have to wait in line to cross the border. They are even allocating money for it, prompting anger and mockery from the former city government. “Narva likes living in a fantasy. If the border crossing is closed altogether, that money will be wasted. As has happened before,” commenters wrote under a post about the current mayor’s plans. “For €28,000, you can buy a plastic tunnel suitable for a children’s haunted room, not for the Estonian border,” commented former Narva mayor Katri Raik.
In mid-summer, Raik, a familiar figure to Western journalists, was ousted. The city is now run by a coalition of the Centre Party and the Plan B electoral alliance. The protracted change of power — the coalition and opposition hold exactly the same number of seats on the city council — has already pushed back the planned opening of a defense base in Narva from late 2027 to the summer of 2028. Preoccupied with political infighting, the local authorities held up the allocation of land for construction. Now, the process, funded almost entirely by the EU Cohesion Fund, has finally got moving.
All (apparently) quiet in the autumn capital
A glance at social media might suggest that nothing out of the ordinary is happening: Narva has become Estonia’s autumn capital; the city is holding an Entrepreneur’s Day; Narva Castle is inviting visitors on a night tour and promising stories about knights. Appointments of officials loyal to the new administration to comfortable jobs at Narva institutions stir almost as much emotion among residents as the prospect of a hypothetical war.
Still, a report published in late September by the US-based Institute for the Study of War, and summarized by media, once again made people in Estonia nervous. Its scenario envisages a limited seizure of Estonian territory, starting with several sites in Narva, including Narva Castle; the declaration of a “People’s Republic of Narva”; and an appeal to Russia to protect the rights of Russian speakers. The scenario assumes that Russia would then attack Estonian territory with drones, counting on NATO’s response to be poorly coordinated. To put it plainly, this is not a particularly new or original scenario.
In September, Russian authorities restricted access for ten days to parts of the coast along the Narva River in some areas of Leningrad Oblast, banning people from carrying firearms, going out on the water, and moving around outside populated areas at night. Along with rumours that Russia was reinforcing its border, this raised public anxiety somewhat. Estonian authorities, however, saw nothing out of the ordinary in the restrictions.
Ask local residents whether there will be a war, and you may get an evasive answer: they put the chances at more than 50%. Estonia’s official agencies, though, all say there is no immediate threat at present. A few days ago, Foreign Minister Margus Tsahkna repeated this in a conversation with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, who visited Estonia last week. Tsahkna said there was no sign of Russian troops massing near Estonia’s borders.
Even so, preparations for a possible war are under way. Estonia’s new defence minister, Martin Herem, a former commander of the Defence Forces who recently visited Kyiv, said Estonia should consider acquiring manoeuvrable aircraft to counter Russian long-range drones. Drones have already appeared near the border, although NATO fighter jets do not often have to shoot them down over Estonia.
Breaking away from dependence on Russia
The possibility of war has become a familiar backdrop to life for local residents. Street shelters are slowly appearing, and plans are being drawn up for possible disruptions to electricity and water supplies. However, it’s not just Narva. Concerns are spreading that the country may not be doing enough to get ready and Estonia’s news agenda is dominated by stories over corruption and conflicts of interest in defence procurement, as well as the country’s continued dependence on Russian raw materials.
In October, the government was once again caught up in a scandal after it emerged that, at Estonia’s request, the Solikamsk Magnesium Works had been left off the sanctions list. The plant is controlled by Rosatom and supplies raw materials considered strategically important for Europe to NPM Silmet, an Estonian-Canadian company. In addition to its existing plant in Sillamäe, NPM opened a new factory in Narva with a ceremony in September 2025.
These supplies have continued since the start of the war and were no secret. Even so, Estonia’s foreign minister had to defend the decision to angry citizens, saying that the European Commission had asked Estonia to seek the Russian supplier’s exclusion from the list. “If Russia completely cuts off supplies of this raw material to Europe, European technology companies, including those in the defence industry, will find themselves in a very difficult position,” Tsahkna told Estonia’s public broadcaster.
Once again, it was the European Commission that came to the rescue: just a few days after the scandal, it emerged that NPM Silmet’s plant had been included among the projects set to receive support from the European Innovation Fund. The company, often cited locally as proof that Western investment is still coming to Narva, plans to stop using Russian raw materials by the end of this year.
But while European funding may help address economic dependence — provided the necessary suppliers can be found — it would be far harder for Russian-speaking residents of Estonia’s north-east to sever their personal ties with Russia. That means the region is likely to remain, at the very least, a battleground for hearts and minds between East and West for the foreseeable future.
