By AFP
February 6, 2026
Two medieval fortresses face each other across the Narva River separating Estonia from Russia on Europe's eastern edge - Copyright AFP STR
Anna Smolchenko
Two medieval fortresses face each other across the Narva River separating Estonia from Russia on Europe’s eastern edge.
Once a symbol of cooperation, the “Friendship Bridge” connecting the two snow-covered banks has been reinforced with rows of razor wire and “dragon’s teeth” anti-tank obstacles on the Estonian side.
“The name is kind of ironic,” Eerik Purgel, the regional border chief, told AFP in the Russian-speaking town of Narva.
Some fear the border town of over 50,000 people — a mixture of Estonians, Russians and people left stateless after the fall of the Soviet Union — could be Vladimir Putin’s next target.
On the Estonian side of the bridge, the NATO flag flutters in the wind beside those of Estonia and the European Union.
People in cars used to queue up to cross the Narva River to go shopping and see relatives in Russia. But today the crossing is closed to traffic and travellers pull their luggage across on foot.
“Maybe there should not be a bridge at all,” said Purgel.
As Moscow’s war against Ukraine approaches its fourth anniversary, the mood in Narva is gloomy.
“Here at the edge of Europe the war feels different,” said mayor Katri Raik. “We see Russia across the border every day.
“We’re all thinking about what comes next,” she added inside a freshly renovated 17th-century town hall, surrounded by drab Soviet-era buildings.
– ‘Most difficult period’ –
Since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Estonia — along with the fellow Baltic nations of Latvia and Lithuania — has reinforced its defences.
Estonia’s army is tiny. The defence ministry says a force of just under 44,000 people can be deployed to defend the country if necessary, alongside around 2,000 troops from allied NATO countries in the country.
The Estonian authorities have also sought to enhance national security with other measures. They have stripped Russians and stateless residents of the right to vote in local elections, and are switching to teaching in Estonian in dozens of schools.
Those reforms have hit Russian-speaking Narva hard.
The changes, combined with high unemployment, soaring energy bills, a collapse in ties with Russia and fear of conflict, have heightened tensions in the border town.
“This is the most difficult period in our history in about 40 years,” said Mihhail Stalnuhhin, chairman of the town council, denouncing policies targeting Russian speakers.
“It’s compounded by the constant talk of war, war, war, war, war. People are going through a very difficult moral, economic and social situation.”
– Russian passports –
In Narva, around half of all residents are Estonian, a third hold Russian citizenship, and roughly 7,000 people are stateless.
Strategically located, the town has in past centuries been ruled by the Danes, Germans, Russians, Swedes, and Estonians.
Much of the historic baroque Old Town was destroyed during World War II, and under Soviet rule Narva became predominantly Russian-speaking.
Thirty-five years after Estonia won independence, Narva is still struggling with its sense of identity.
Vladimir Aret, a 32-year-old hotel manager and member of the town council, said many in Narva felt caught between two worlds.
“I am European, but we sometimes joke that we do not understand what our homeland is,” he said.
While many — including Aret — call themselves Estonian patriots, some praise Putin.
Some people in Narva speak only Russian. They watch Russian television and are nostalgic for the Soviet past.
– ‘Russophobic madness’ –
Russia regularly rails against the Estonian government.
Russia’s foreign ministry slammed “Estonia’s growing Russophobic madness” and the authorities’ “neo-Nazi” policies in a report released in December.
The ministry, in its report on the rights of Russians abroad, also said that the large number of stateless people in Estonia was a major problem.
Some back the Moscow view.
“We, Russian speakers, are being discriminated against,” a woman in her mid-50s said in Narva on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal.
Olga Kolesnikova, a stateless 64-year-old, disagreed.
“I don’t feel disadvantaged,” said the retired baker, adding that three of her four children were Estonian citizens.
Aleksandr Gruljov, a 59-year-old construction worker, said he was even considering giving up Russian citizenship.
“Nobody is oppressing anyone here,” he added.
– ‘Perfect gateway’ –
But German political scientist Carlo Masala said depriving Russian citizens in Estonia of the right to vote in local elections was “a perfect gateway for Russian propaganda”.
As in Donbas in eastern Ukraine, “Russia can argue that the rights of its minorities living abroad are under threat, providing a reason to protect them, if necessary by military means,” he told AFP.
In his best-selling book “If Russia Wins: A Scenario”, he imagines Russian troops capturing Narva in 2028 in order to launch a broader attack on the Baltic States and trigger a possible collapse of NATO.
Under such a scenario, Russians troops would conquer Narva within hours, aided by “parts of the local civil population,” who would be supplied with small arms and machine guns ahead of the assault.
Masala told AFP several other cities with sizable Russian communities including Kirkenes in Norway and Daugavpils in Latvia could also be vulnerable to a possible Russian attack.
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has cast the political sympathies of Estonia’s Russian-speaking population into the spotlight.
“Will they support the state in the event of war, possibly against Russia?” asked a 2023 study of the country’s Russian-speaking minority.
According to its findings, 65 percent of Estonia’s Russian speakers said they were “rather or definitely patriots of Estonia,” whereas 28 percent said that they were “rather or definitely not.”
– ‘We are ready’ –
Jelisei Solovjov knows where his loyalties lie.
The 18-year-old fatigue-clad member of the Kaitseliit, a voluntary national defence organisation, already knows how to dig trenches and shoot.
“We are ready to defend our country, we are not afraid,” he said.
Masala, the analyst, said that Narva today resembled a “fortress.”
“This would make military action much more difficult than it would have been a few years ago.”
Estonian border chiefs dismiss the idea that Narva is particularly vulnerable to a Moscow assault.
Egert Belitsev, the head of the country’s border service, said Berlin also had a large Russian population.
With such a pretext, “you can also invade Berlin,” he said.
Back at the Narva border crossing, Purgel was defiant.
“It’s our town, we will protect it with our lives,” he said.
DON'T MINE, DEMINE!
In Finland’s forests, soldiers re-learn how to lay anti-personnel mines
By AFP
February 6, 2026
Finnish soldiers are exploring the most effective way to use mines
- Copyright AFP STR
Mathieu RABECHAULT
Finland is barely out of the treaty banning them but the country’s armed forces are already training soldiers to lay anti-personnel mines, citing a threat from neighbouring Russia.
Trudging through snow, a young Finnish conscript carefully draws a thin blue wire between two pine trees. The other end is attached to a hidden mine some 20 metres (65 feet) away.
“We are in the process of figuring out what’s the most effective way to use them,” said Lieutenant Joona Ratto, who teaches military service conscripts how to use the devices that Finland had banned in 2012.
Stationed with the Kainuu Brigade, which is responsible for defending 700 of the 1,340-kilometre (833-mile) border Finland shares with Russia, Ratto and his colleagues are gearing up to train the 500 active-duty soldiers, 2,500 conscripts, and 5,000 reservists who pass through the garrison each year.
Dropping decades of military non-alignment, Finland applied to join NATO in the wake of Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine and became a member in 2023.
Like the nearby Baltic states and Poland, it also decided to withdraw from the Ottawa Convention, which prohibits the use, stockpiling, or production of anti-personnel mines.
No longer bound by the international treaty since January 10, Finland is now free to bury or conceal the small, inexpensive devices, which have been criticised for causing injuries to civilians long after conflicts end.
From a military perspective, antipersonnel mines are a necessary evil, according to Ratto.
“We can use them to either stop the enemy or maybe alarm our own troops in the defensive positions”, giving troops time to prepare for “the firefight”, he told AFP among the wintery landscape of pine and spruce trees.
While the war in Ukraine has cemented the role of drones, the trench war had demonstrated that, although old, “they are still effective and they have an important role on the battlefield”, said Colonel Riku Mikkonen, inspector of engineering for the Finnish Army.
Nearby, other soldiers train on a road.
A warning sign has been put up reading “Miinoja, mines”, depicting a skull in a downward-pointing red triangle — the international symbol for a mined area.
A powerful drill is used to penetrate the frozen ground to bury training anti-tank mines, which were never banned.
– One million mines –
For now, the Finnish army has no caches of antipersonnel mines. It therefore trains with the directional Claymore mine, which projects shrapnel up to 50 metres.
Mikkonen believes the situation will be resolved within two years as Finland’s defence industry needs to resume its domestic production of simple, low-cost mines.
Having them produced in Finland guarantees that they can be supplied “also in wartime”, he explained.
With 162 states still party to the Ottawa Convention — but not the United States or Russia — there also are not enough sellers around internationally to satisfy Finland’s needs, he added.
But what those needs are exactly has not yet been finalised.
“We used to have one million infantry mines before the Ottawa Convention in our stocks, that’s a good amount, but let’s see,” he said.
Currently, Finland’s army does not intend to deploy mines along its eastern border and it will be a decision for the government to make in a crisis.
Mikkonen hoped that the decision will be made months in advance of actual hostilities, ideally six months out.
Detailed minefield plans would then have to be drawn up, on paper and via a smartphone app which is in development.
With the risk of leftover mines posing a hazard after the end of fighting, some modern mines include a self-neutralising mechanism, but Mikkonen said he would “rather not have them”.
“Because the war can last for a long time while the self-destruction happens after three to four months. It makes sense of the humanitarian side, not on the military side.”
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