“Uneasy About What Moscow Is Doing”: Are People in Narva Afraid of a Russian Attack?

In September 2026, the Institute for the Study of War (ISW) outlined a hypothetical scenario of what a Russian invasion of Estonia might look like. According to the scenario, Russia could launch a limited ground incursion into Narva, supported by drones operating from Russian territory.

This is not the first time Estonia, and specifically its eastern region, has been described as the “next” target after Ukraine.

At present, the Baltic states see no concentration of Russian forces near their borders of the kind that would be necessary for an invasion. Nevertheless, the region is constantly subjected to hybrid attacks.

A Euroradio journalist travelled to Narva to find out how local residents feel about warnings from American analysts.

“I feel uneasy about what Russia is doing”

Narva is one of the European Union’s cities closest to Russia. It is separated from the neighbouring Russian city of Ivangorod by nothing more than a river.

Close attention was drawn to Narva after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine — but not because of the city’s multilayered history. Recently, international media have been actively reporting that Putin has several scenarios for a hybrid attack on the city and the region on his desk.

— Narva residents react to these reports in different ways, from another “Oh, how much longer can this go on?” to fear. Lately, people have started thinking about a Plan B and asking each other: “Where would you run if something happened?” Some have even been buying property elsewhere in Europe, says Yevgenia Parv, a journalist and editor at Delfi and ERR.

But Yevgenia has not packed an emergency bag. “I can hardly believe it myself, but I feel uneasy about what Russia is doing,” she admits.

Yevgenia’s father was a military officer. As a child, she lived with her parents in various Soviet republics, and in 1987 the family finally settled in Narva. According to her, relations between people became “strained” as early as 2014.

The city is home to 50,000 people, half of whom are Estonian citizens. The rest hold other, non-EU documents: they are citizens of Russia or Ukraine, or stateless persons.

As Yevgenia notes, compared with its Baltic neighbours, Estonia’s migration policy is relatively “lenient” towards citizens of other countries who have lived here for a long time. But people are still afraid of losing their legal status, so they are reluctant to speak even about domestic political issues.

— They no longer even have any ties in Russia. Some have never even been there.

The vast majority of Narva’s residents speak Russian. The divisions here are a matter of worldview and exist primarily between generations.

— Pro-Russian people here somehow manage to find greater support among Estonians who vote for the conservative EKRE party. The party says Estonia should not support Ukraine, explains Yevgenia.

The journalist also sees a positive shift in the information landscape. She gives the example of how people’s outlooks have changed over the years without Russian TV channels, and how they are now less supportive of Russia — at least when it comes to the war. On the other side of the river, however, they are pursuing “a very effective propaganda strategy.”

After the war, the new authorities decided not to restore the Swedish heritage. All that remains of the old stone city centre is the castle and the town hall, surrounded by Khrushchev-era apartment blocks.

With the arrival of Soviet rule, the proportion of ethnic Estonians living in Narva fell sharply. Russian became the main language, to such an extent that even today the city administration cannot fully switch to Estonian. Over two days, I heard Estonian spoken on the street only once — and that was because people from all over the country had come to Narva for some professional conference.

Along the riverfront, with views across to Russia, residents fish. I approach the largest group. The middle-aged and older men immediately dismiss the idea that Narva could be attacked, claiming it is all just “media scaremongering”.

— We used to be friends, after all. My stepmother lives in that building over there, says a fisherman named Mikhail, pointing to a high-rise on the opposite bank. — It’s the politicians who are stirring things up. Why would they want to stop the war in Ukraine? Money is flowing in from all sides over there, he believes.

Another, younger fisherman recalls how the husband of Kaja Kallas, the former prime minister and current EU foreign policy chief, did business with Russian companies.

— Businesses were shut down for ordinary people. But Russian Railways [Russian Railways. — Euroradio] still operates, he says.

— Fertiliser, for God’s sake, an entire railway station. Go over there and have a look. What do you mean, “little green men”?! There’s a dry riverbed there; anyone can cross. If they wanted to, there’d have been nothing left here long ago, an older man chimes in.

— But it’s a different century now. No one’s going to cross here in boats.

— Right, with oars. Remember how they used to smuggle goods by boat in the ’90s? the older fisherman recalls.

A young man walks up and asks whether all the zander have already been caught. The men laugh.

— Ask any Narva resident who wants to move over there, to Ivangorod, and live. No one does. There are no pensions there, nothing, says Mikhail.

Another fisherman disagrees, pointing out that Kingisepp in Russia (a town not far from Narva. — Euroradio) is developing.

— But at whose expense? At the expense of Ust-Luga, which keeps getting bombed, Mikhail laughs.

The men talk about drones flying along the border. A newcomer to the group says the drones are launched from lorries parked in the forests. After joking about sabotage, the younger fisherman turns to me again, remarking that people will say just about anything these days.

— Back in the ’90s, there was freedom of speech. Can you speak freely in Poland?

— Yes, I reply.

— Well, there you go. Here, they gave someone ten years, too (the man may be referring to journalist Oleg Besedin, who was convicted of justifying Russia’s military invasion of Ukraine. — Euroradio).

— There was a man with a St George’s ribbon hanging in his car… That’s it, the younger fisherman says.

Estonia has a law prohibiting the public display of St George’s ribbons, the Z and V symbols, and the flags of Russia and the USSR. Violators can be fined up to 400 euros.

— Do you remember when they arrested that woman who had a bag that looked like Tommy Hilfiger?!

— In Latvia?

— Yes. They spotted a Russian flag and threw her in jail.

— And why did they fine Slava 200 euros? For a naval infantry striped shirt or what? Everyone wears those striped shirts.

— So much for freedom of speech and freedom of expression!

— I mean… who could a Russian hat or a striped shirt possibly hurt? What difference does it make what I’m wearing? They’re banning Russian television, too. We basically don’t have it here anyway.

— Really?

— Volodya gives the go-ahead. The antenna picks it up.

Mikhail sighs and says:

— There’s one thing to be glad about: every war ends in peace.

— The politicians will reach an agreement. But it’s civilians who will suffer, the younger fisherman adds.

Another man says Estonia has lost a lot because of the border closure. Some hotels and shopping centres were built with Russian visitors in mind, but now nobody comes.

— Even earlier, back in 1991, when I was studying at a vocational school, there was a dairy, a bakery and a meat-processing plant here. The city could easily sustain itself, Mikhail adds. — “Baltiets” was a big factory. There was Kreenholm and a furniture factory.

— Our power station used to supply electricity to the metro in the Leningrad region. And now they want to build a new gas-fired boiler plant, where gas costs 140 euros per megawatt-hour.

— Well, that’s what we get for joining Europe, Mikhail says.

— The funniest thing is that they claim to support green energy. But ten kilometres away, [in Russia], they’re burning phosphorite with their boots, and the emissions there are enormous. What kind of environmental protection is that?

The men discuss watching KHL hockey matches that evening. Someone has already stocked up on beer.

— I don’t know what they’re stirring up in the Estonian press. Everything seems peaceful enough here. People are dying, young people are leaving, pensioners are staying behind. Everything is going exactly according to plan. There’s no work. They’re building two factories now: a second magnet factory and a waste-recycling plant. By the way, you just walked past it — have a look at who that lion resembles. You haven’t even seen the city’s main attraction, Mikhail advises.

I have. The lion looks like Putin.

“White Birches” and Childhood at Grandma’s

“It is very easy to lose freedom, including through fear,” says journalist Yevgenia Parv.

— If we start locking everyone up indiscriminately now, we won’t be any different from our eastern neighbour. That’s why I try to talk to people who live in Narva and work for the good of the city. They don’t say they would go and fight for Russia. But they think differently. That is their right, and they should be allowed to speak, as long as they don’t break the law.

Yevgenia points out that Narva is known as the poorest city in Europe. In her observation, those who wanted to move to Russia did so back in the 1990s or in 2014. The others have nowhere to go.

— Apart from memories of the Great Patriotic War, there is nothing there to warm their hearts. Except perhaps “White Birches” and memories of childhood, if they spent it at their grandmother’s.

— But would these people defend Narva?

— I don’t have an answer. I think about it all the time, and it frightens me. I know people who would definitely defend it, but I don’t know about the rest. History keeps offering examples of this kind. But I would like everyone to defend Narva.

Despite all this, Yevgenia admits that she loves Narva precisely because of its people: some do a great deal for the city, while others are “poor and unhappy, but have preserved their sincerity”.

— Sometimes, when talking to people, you can sense support for Russia, but often, behind it, you hear resentment towards Estonia: at some point they weren’t accepted, someone told them they were “second-class” because of the language they spoke.

In post-Soviet countries, there is this kind of story in general: it isn’t classical emigration, but forced emigration. It seems to me that, somewhere along the way, the state failed to do enough for these people. Estonia is a young country, after all. This was a new experience. You can’t blame a country for trying to protect itself. But people feel that they are unloved and have been abandoned. They have become stuck between two worlds, says Yevgenia.

Ukrainians in Narva

In 2022, Narva became one of the main border crossing points through which Ukrainians from occupied territories travelled to the EU. By the end of July 2022, almost 22,000 Ukrainian refugees had passed through the city.

That same year, Nastia arrived in Narva from Donetsk. Shortly before the war, she and her boyfriend had bought an apartment together in Kyiv, but the couple never got the chance to live there.

Over the past four years, Nastia has learned Estonian. She is a trained physics and computer science teacher, but Estonia does not recognise her Donetsk diploma. So now Nastia is studying Estonian philology at Narva College while pursuing a second degree by correspondence at the Dragomanov National Pedagogical University in Kyiv, specialising in physics teaching.

The couple does not see Narva as a place to settle permanently. Although the young people enjoy visiting Narva-Jõesuu to stroll along the seafront, if you look to the right, you can see Russia from there too.

Donetsk is Narva’s twin city. Nastia often draws parallels between the two regions. But she says that, unlike Narva, Donetsk did not have so many people nostalgic for the USSR.

— The situation and atmosphere are very similar. But in Donetsk, this was artificially created by people who had been brought there, whereas after the Second World War, Narva was populated with workers. Before 2014, there was no “we’re waiting for Russia” sentiment in Donetsk — everything was normal, and people protested against what happened. Here, though, you get the feeling that people are waiting for something, even if they don’t understand what — some illusory homeland. They fail to notice the social benefits and assistance they receive in Estonia.

The woman from Donetsk says she feels threatened by Russia, partly because of what she has experienced herself. Not long ago, a curfew was announced in Ivangorod. Nastia feared that military equipment might be moved to the other side of the border.

In Nastia’s view, young people in Narva are more pro-European and less susceptible to propaganda. Their children attend school alongside Ukrainian children, and there are no conflicts between them. The problems, however, lie with older people.

— You can’t prove anything through dialogue. I tried talking to a local teacher who was telling me what was happening in my own Donetsk. When I tried to explain that things weren’t like that, she didn’t believe me. Russian propaganda has taken very deep root in people’s minds. In Donetsk, a year and a half of television completely rewrote people’s thinking: they found it hard to believe that we were welcome, that Ukraine treated us well. And here in Narva, propaganda also has a strong influence.

“There is nothing that could separate this region from the Republic of Estonia”

According to the results of a poll conducted by Turu-uuringute in early September, 65% of Estonian residents consider a Russian military attack in the near future unlikely. Another 27% of respondents said an attack was likely, while 8% were unable to give an assessment.

However, responses differ significantly depending on nationality. Among ethnic Estonians, 35% consider an attack likely, while 59% think it unlikely. Among non-Estonians, only 9% consider an attack likely, while 78% do not really believe one will happen.

There are also notable regional differences. In Ida-Viru County, 10% of respondents do not rule out a Russian attack. In Tallinn, the figure is 21%. In Central Estonia, 37% of residents assess the likelihood of an attack as high or fairly high, compared with 33% in Southern Estonia.

Retired Major Nieme Brus, a strategic communications and public relations specialist at the headquarters of the Estonian Defence League (Kaitseliit), is convinced that the narrative “Narva is next” is part of Russian propaganda.

— Unfortunately, the question “Will Narva be next?” is repeated many times in Western media because it sounds intriguing and attracts attention. Narva will not be next, because Estonia is part of NATO and the European Union. We have allies, and we are ready to defend ourselves if necessary. And this is one of the main tasks of the Estonian Defence League.

The Estonian Defence League (Kaitseliit) is a voluntary paramilitary organisation that, together with the army, forms part of the country’s Defence Forces. It currently has around 30,000 Estonian citizens, including the organisation’s women’s and youth units. Up to 20,000 people serve directly in its combat units.

According to Major Brus, within a couple of months of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, more than 3,000 people joined the Defence League. This represented a significant increase.

Its members work and train throughout the country, in every city and town in Estonia. The eastern part of the country is no exception.

— Narva is Estonia. There is nothing that could separate this region from the Republic of Estonia. We are ready to defend our freedom and our country everywhere in Estonia, especially in its eastern part, says Brus.

Nevertheless, to become a member of the Estonian Defence League, one must be an Estonian citizen.

— It’s true that some regions have a certain number of people without Estonian citizenship — people with Russian passports or so-called grey-green residence permits. These people cannot join the Kaitseliit. However, among the Russian-speaking population, especially young people, there are those who obtain Estonian citizenship and join the Defence League. We have quite a lot of young people from Russian-speaking families in our units.

“Just imagine how much money would have to be invested here if Russia did come!”

For the past three years, 9 May has been the main event in Narva. On that day, one bank of the river celebrates Victory Day, while the other marks Europe Day. On the Russian side, a stage is set up and Soviet songs are played. A poster reading “Putin Is a War Criminal” hangs on the wall of Narva Museum. The museum’s director, Maria Smorževskih-Smirnova, was sentenced in absentia in Russia to 10 years in prison for this.

Oleg, a young retiree, spends Wednesday in the park near the museum. He does not want to be filmed, but shares his feelings about news reports of a possible Russian invasion.

— It’s ridiculous. Europe is impoverished. Estonia… And this city is dying.

Oleg is convinced that “nothing will happen” and adds that “there’s nothing to take here, unlike in Ukraine”. He also points out that for four years, so many countries have been unable to do anything about Russia.

— Don’t mess with Russia, Oleg says. — Has your country ever been to Moscow? Even when they reached it, they had to retreat. And Russia didn’t pursue you. So why would Russia go into Poland? To boost the economy again?

— Then why did it go into Ukraine? I ask.

— There you go again! If they put a bin for radioactive waste outside your house, would you be happy?

— No.

— And what if Ukraine allowed weapons and missiles to be stationed on its territory, missiles that could reach Moscow in three to five minutes?

Oleg believes that “the EU bigwigs have wrecked” the Estonian economy.

— Over there, across the bridge [in Russia], only the defence industry is developing, too, and the attacks have caused fuel shortages. It’s the same here: a farmer used to fill up with 300 euros’ worth of fuel, and now it costs 400. Just imagine how much money would have to be invested here if Russia did come!

Oleg looks towards the border and says that tourists are kept waiting at the border crossing overnight. The same goes for Narva residents, who travel to Russia to buy cheap groceries.

— That guy in the white shirt doesn’t care about any of this. He has a good income. But is it normal for people to have to wait so long at the checkpoint? I’ve been all over Europe, and nowhere else have I ever had to wait more than five minutes. So sleep peacefully — no one is going to attack you, Oleg says as he bids farewell.

The Border

The border crossing from Narva to Ivangorod operates only during the day and is open to pedestrians only. Estonia recently tightened customs checks on everyone arriving from Russia. From early morning, sometimes even overnight, people with suitcases begin lining up here. Most are Russians or foreign nationals travelling to visit relatives in Finland (where the border with Russia is completely closed) or in other countries.

A young man travels from St Petersburg to Finland once every few months. He takes no interest in politics and has never heard anything about Putin possibly attacking Narva.

A woman with a suitcase is also heading to Finland to visit her daughter. The news frightens her, but reports from both sides do. In Russia, she hears people talking about a possible attack, but they say it would come from Estonia.

— Estonia’s external border with the EU is stable in terms of border security, but it is constantly under pressure from deliberate, low-level provocations that test our procedures, drain resources and spread disinformation, comments Veiko Komusaar, head of border guard at Estonia’s Police and Border Guard Board.

The agency points out that Estonia’s eastern border is also the external border of the EU and NATO.

— Its security is of strategic importance not only for Estonia but for Europe as a whole. Developments along the border are constantly monitored, with additional support provided by Frontex officers and experts from other European countries, the head of the border guard says.

With the support of “Mediasetka”