The collapse of the Soviet Union is remembered by many across the world as a momentous moment of triumph for democracy, liberty and peace. For many in the lands of the Soviet Union, however, the collapse was a cause for great anxiety over what would come next, and a sense of disillusionment in some places with the idea of a ‘Western’ future. For those who grew up under the Soviet system, the planned economy and state-managed way of life was a simple fact of life, and its collapse demolished state institutions, economic schemes, urban infrastructure and cultural projects all around them. Life in the immediate aftermath was defined by economic instability caused by the abolition of price caps and the cessation of subsidies, but it was ultimately a sense of hollowness to life in the post-Soviet world which followed people even after the economic chaos of the 1990s was over, and led to a stream of emigration and a steady population decline which has plagued the prospects of many post-Soviet states.
Life in many parts of the post-Soviet world has proven to be difficult, but it has been most difficult in the areas where borders have been established right on people’s doorsteps – where communities have become divided, economies split up between towns and cities, and worlds which people had only known being turned upside down. There should be no doubt – the Soviet Union was built upon an empire that was welded together through blood and tyranny, and the independence of the Soviet states is a moral victory against the ‘great power’ course of history, but the result is that the world which generations had become used to was broken apart, and the relations between different peoples has been fundamentally altered. This series studies the places in the post-Soviet states where borders have been erected, and have brought huge, unrecognisable change to the people they have found themselves on either side of them.
The first instalment looks at the Baltic cities of Narva and Ivangorod, on the Estonian-Russian border. Of the two cities, the former is a bustling city of nearly 100,000 inhabitants whilst the other is a quieter town of roughly 10,000. To the naked eye looking at a map, Ivangorod looks like a suburb of Narva. Not even a field separates them – only the Narva River. As a result, the historical fates of the cities have long been intertwined. When Estonia first declared its independence in 1920, the resulting treaty put Ivangorod in Estonia’s boundaries. After the brutal Soviet reoccupation in 1944, however, Ivangorod was brought back under the control of the Leningrad region, making it a part of Russia again. The area was swept up by the irresistible march of Stalin’s juggernaut. Narva was rapidly developed into a city of heavy industry, exploiting the excess of oil-shale in this region and becoming a provider of energy to the rest of the Soviet Union. It also developed in textiles, metals and engineering. As a result, the population grew from around 25,000 before the war to a peak of 80,000 by the end of the Soviet era.
Due to this industrial boom, the city’s urban sprawl stretched across the river and took in Ivangorod. Public infrastructure was shared across the two cities – they had one public transport system, one energy system, and one sewage and water system. People would live and work on different sides of the river and travel across every day. During the Soviet era, the cities were one and the same in all but name. Then, the collapse of the Soviet Union reopened old wounds.
When Estonia gained its independence; and the Russian Federation was established, the twin cities were split. Now, people who used to get on the bus in Ivangorod to go to work in Narva lived in a different country. The fact that Ivangorod was now Russian became a diplomatic obstacle for the two nations, but the establishment of a border arrangement was a clear priority. 7,000 people needed to cross the border on a regular basis. In 1992, the two nations agreed to issue a special permit which would allow natives of the two cities to cross the border with relative freedom. Even so, the two states have never signed a formal border agreement recognising Ivangorod as part of Russia.
It was, however, not to be Ivangorod’s Estonianness which would cause the main problems from the split, but Narva’s Russianness. Narva’s industrial boom had been fuelled by an influx of Russian migrants who came to the city for work, and now they found themselves as residents of a foreign country. Estonia was reluctant to accept these Russian residents, seeing their migration as a byproduct of an imperialist relationship. Those who had migrated to Estonia before independence were not granted citizenship, and fell into a confused position of being ‘aliens’ in the place they had lived in for decades. As ‘aliens’ their voting rights were restricted, as were their ability to travel or set up businesses. They have to apply for work and residency permits in Estonia. Their only privilege was their ease of travel across the border into Ivangorod, as their alien passes doubled up as border permits.
This unequal treatment; and the prevalence of Russians in major towns such as Narva made Russian minority interests an inevitable part of Estonian politics in the aftermath of independence. In 1993, Narva and the nearby town of Sillamae held unofficial referendums on declaring autonomy from Estonia. In Narva, it was alleged that 97% voted in favour, but the unauthorised vote was marred by low turnout and allegations of voter fraud, and it was dismissed out of hand by the courts. After this, Russian minority politics became more moderate, with the ‘Center Party’ representing in part the interests of Russian speakers, but doing so as part of the Estonian political system. Their fight is mainly to support Russians so that they can work and integrate into Estonia.
Things settled down in Narva after the chaos of the 1990s, but the future of the city did not appear to be any less bleak. The other major issue arising from the breakup of the Soviet Union was deindustrialisation and a move towards a free market economy, something which had a profound effect on Narva. Narva’s rise as a city dependent on heavy industry sealed its inevitable fate when heavy industry became obsolete. Job losses have had a debilitating effect on the city and the wider area, as private ownership has come in and operations have been scaled back. At the famous Kreenholm factory, which had been established in the 1850s, 4,900 people were employed at the turn of the century, but by 2010, when it declared bankruptcy, it employed only 500 people. Much has been made of the need to regenerate the economy of the region which Narva stands over, making use of new environmental ways of developing industry, but it has taken decades for the necessary investment to be put forward to spark a new life into the economy of the region. What the Estonian state has managed to do for Narva, however, is rebuild its city infrastructure, with residents being able to enjoy well maintained roads, new public buildings and well lit, clean streets.
This creates a contrast between the experiences of those in Narva and Ivangorod. Separated from Narva by a line only seen on a map, Ivangorod has lost everything. Not only did it lose all of its own industry, but it now had to miss out on the city infrastructure that Narva benefitted from. In 1992, the joint public transport system was shut down, then in 1994 telephone services between the two cities were cut. To make matters even worse, the suppliers of energy and water to both cities both sat on the Estonian side. First, the Estonian electricity company cut supply, then the water company, after overdue payments, shut off its supply as well. Sewage spilled into the river from the Ivangorod side, as the guts of the city were literally emptied out by the split.
In the midst of this all, people had to muster their ingenuity to find new ways of surviving, and they did so taking advantage of the close connection between the two cities. The stream of people crossing the border on a regular basis opened up opportunities for cross-border trade. Estonians would utilise the Russian side to buy cheap alcohol and cigarettes, as well as medicines that are unavailable to them. Meanwhile, Russians made use of the Estonian side to buy second-hand clothes, a business which was fuelled by rogue entrepreneurs: second-hand clothes dealers looking to make quick cash. After sanctions hit the Russian population in 2014, the main trade shifted towards food products hard to find in Russia, such as cheese, salami and red salmon. These would be smuggled back in as contraband, as people became used to hiding goods in their bags as they passed through customs at the border. The informal economy between Narva and Ivangorod has also developed through the smuggling of goods such as tobacco, petrol and vodka. In 2008, a pipeline was discovered underneath the Narva river that had pumped 2,600 litres of Vodka across the border into Estonia.
The ways in which Narva and Ivangorod continued to rely on their connection after the split shows the fact that hypothetical borders do not create actual divisions amongst people. Populations that are close together will often use each other for their mutual benefit, regardless of differences such as nationality, if there is a quid pro quo relationship to be formed. Despite nationalism promoting the economic interests of the ‘group’ over the needs of the ‘other’ in people’s consciousness, communities throughout history have always formed economic bonds which transcend ethnicity, race or religion. This has been shown throughout history, and the Soviet Union was simply a modern example of economic cooperation between different peoples. Where there are now borders, groups of people still form mutually beneficial trade connections, even if they are informal and not supported by the state they live in.
Despite this spirit of cooperation existing between the two cities well into the post-Soviet era, the people of these cities have also fallen victim to the social and political divisions that their governments have agitated between each other. The paths of Estonia and Russia have diverged completely, with Estonia turning towards the West and Russia becoming militantly hostile to the West, eventually leading to military hostility on the border. More presently, though, it has led to a concerted campaign for both sides to discredit the other, making people who were once united treat eachother with nothing but disdain. Russia is presented in Estonia as being a poor, dirty and squalid place where civilisation is regressing, whilst on the other hand Estonia is presented to Russians as a puppet of the evil West, waging a war against the existence of the Russian world on their behalf.
As a result of this propaganda war, many in Narva have an affinity towards Russia due to their heritage, but would rather stay as part of Estonia. In the words of Vitaly, a Russian citizen who lives on the Estonian side, when asked about moving to Russia said: “I already know it: alcoholism and unemployment. If I want to know about Russia I watch the TV and see what’s going on in Moscow and St Petersburg.” On the other hand, those in Ivangorod, or those exposed to Russian propaganda in Narva, treat Estonia not as an civilisational safe haven but as a place to be suspicious of. As reflected by the words of Zlata, another resident of Narva: “in the future there’ll just be a NATO base here, nothing else. That’s all they need the city for.” The two cities once joined together in mutual coexistence, regardless of ethnicity or nationality, are now on the frontline of an existential war between two worlds. It is a testament as to how much perceptions, shaped by the narratives of state actors, determine the daily lives of the citizens who fall under their control.
The divide that has formed between the once twin cities of Narva and Ivangorod is best symbolised by the two castles that face each other on the hillside of both river banks. Narva Castle historically marks the furthest reaches of westward expansionism east, as it was founded by the Danish Kingdom after their expansion into Estonia in the 14th century. Ivangorod Fortress on the other hand represents the eastward expansion of the Muscovite Empire westwards, founded by Ivan III as a statement of Muscovy advance to the Baltic Sea. It then became the site of numerous battles between the Muscovites and the Swedish Empire, before being decisively won by Peter the Great of the Russian Empire in 1704. The history of the castles reflect the insatiable desire for expansion from both Western and Eastern powers, driven by the imperative of spreading their own civilization.
It is this history which has returned once again to today’s world, and even though both castles are now defunct, their purpose as proctetors of their kingdoms has been ressurected in a symbolic sense. Now, the war in Ukraine is only further deepening tensions. From 2022, Estonia instituted a ban on short-stay visa holders entering, affecting much of the movement of people from Ivangorod to Narva, and more recently has considered a full ban on Russian entry for security reasons. Now, the road across the border has been closed for repairs, expected to open again in two years time. Only the footpath remains for those able to cross. It is such a remarkable observation to see how much the relationship between these two cities has changed in a handful of decades. Three-quarters of a century of Soviet history, erased in a new era of hostility, two cities that were once painted with the same brush now unrecognisable to each other.
Cover Photo Credit: Georgy Trofimov
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