Home to one of the few crossing points into Russia, the city of Narva is seen by Estonian border force officials as “the end and the beginning of the free world”.
Located on Nato’s eastern border, the city has become the constant target of hybrid warfare tactics employed by Russia – with the Kremlin sending in surveillance blimps on an almost weekly basis and removing Estonian border infrastructure in the dead of night.
“Everything that is on the other side of the border, I wouldn’t use [the term] ‘free world’ to describe that,” says Egert Belitsev, director general of the Estonian border force.
But not everyone in Narva sees it as Belitsev does.
Some 96 per cent of the 56,000 people living in Narva speak Russian as their first language, while 34 per cent of the population are Russian citizens.
“They live inside the Russian cultural and propaganda space,” says Dr Maria Smorzhevskikh-Smirnova, director of Narva’s museum.
It’s perhaps unsurprising that in 2022, Vladimir Putin indicated that he had his sights set on Narva, suggesting that it would be justifiable to “take back and secure” the border city.
The Narva Museum – which faces directly towards Russia – has found itself at the centre of the flaring tensions after conducting a number of anti-Putin stunts and hosting exhibitions that highlight Russian propaganda and war crimes.
For the last two years, the museum has hung a banner reading “Putin is a war criminal” on the side of Narva’s castle, facing towards Ivangorod, a Russian border town that lies just 101 metres away.
Each year, the banner has been timed to coincide with Russia’s 9 May Victory Day celebrations taking place in Ivangorod. There is a clear sense in Estonia that the celebrations, which are amplified on huge speakers, are not put on for the benefit of those living in Russia.
“They do it for the people of Narva,” says Belitsev. “The stage is directed towards Estonia. They use the biggest speakers they have in Russia. It’s not for Ivangorod.”
Russian officials demanded that Estonian border representatives take the anti-Putin banner down (they refused), but it wasn’t just on the other side of the Narva Reservoir that the banner sparked outrage.
While the museum received a wave of support from other Estonian cities, Smorzhevskikh-Smirnova says she and her family received death threats, abuse and harassment from some residents of Narva.
Zurab Janes, who works at the museum, says his boss received emails, texts and Facebook posts threatening her. “They threatened to rape, kill, hang her. They photoshopped pictures of Maria with her head cut off.” Even her son received disturbing photoshopped images, he says.
After two years of anti-Putin stunts, Smorzhevskikh-Smirnova now believes her position at the museum is at risk as a result of Narva’s pro-Russian leanings.
“The museum is under constant pressure and stress, but we continue to talk about our painful history,” she says.
Although Smorzhevskikh-Smirnova herself was born in Siberia and speaks Russian as her first language, she says: “For us, it is not about nations and origins. It is about values.”
Despite Narva’s strong contingent of culturally and ethnically Russian residents, Putin’s regime still uses the city as a key target for disruption operations – incidents which are increasing in both intensity and frequency as the war in Ukraine rages on.
According to Estonian border force officials, Russia has repeatedly flown a large surveillance zeppelin into Narva’s airspace, emblazoned with a Z – a symbol closely linked with Russian propaganda.
The technology, Belitsev says, is almost comically outdated: he says it is a deliberately obvious piece of surveillance equipment, and is being used to spark unease in Estonia.
“They’re trying to provoke a reaction. They want to see how we respond,” he says.
Russia has also been accused of stealing buoys that mark out the border on the Narva Reservoir, in an attempt to disrupt Estonia’s ability to monitor incursions, as well as purposely slowing down border checks ahead of an Estonian national parade in an attempt to flood the local area with queues.
Nearly six months on, people can still queue for more than 12 hours in the snow to cross into Russia.
Estonia’s border force has claimed that the Kremlin is to blame, but within Russian-speaking Narva, there is also blame being levelled at the Estonian government.
Russia has closed off the Narva checkpoint to all vehicles, so the only way through is on foot. And the large anti-tank fortifications stationed in the middle of the bridge make it impossible for anyone using the checkpoint to forget how close they are to a war zone.
While some people use the crossing to attempt to smuggle goods into Russia, such as drone parts or motor fuel, there are also people crossing the border for more unremarkable reasons.
One woman in her early twenties, who made the crossing from Russia into Estonia on Sunday, had travelled to Moscow to visit a friend. She told The Independent she had waited for eight hours in the snow when she left Estonia a few days earlier.
Another man, who works in Finland for half the year but lives in Russia, was heading home for the winter. He said he had queued for more than 12 hours to make the crossing.
While the Estonian border force insists that Russia is to blame for the huge delays, Belitsev doesn’t seem too disturbed by the long waits.
“If you want to go into the Russian federation, it shouldn’t be comfortable. Russia is an aggressor country that has conducted extensive military action for more than 1,000 days in one of their neighbouring countries,” he says.
“Anybody with a clear sense of mind wouldn’t go there.”
