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Today, the Riigikogu revoked the voting rights of citizens of third countries, including Russia, in local government elections, and non-citizens will be able to vote for the last time this year. This changes Estonia's political reality and, in combination with other decisions, shows that Estonia has chosen an all-or-nothing strategy on the Russian question, Sergei Metlev, editor-in-chief of Postimees' Russian-language publications, writes.
Domestically, Estonia has radically changed its approach to everything even remotely connected to Russia in just three years. The shift has been so swift and fundamental that we may not yet fully grasp how significant its impact is.
To illustrate the scale, here is a list: restrictions on entry and economic activity for Russian citizens; pushing Russian companies out of the market; revoking gun permits from Russian citizens and non-citizens; efforts to administratively detach the local Orthodox Church from Moscow; the removal of Soviet monuments; banning participation in youth events organized by Russian associations; limiting the use of the Russian language in the public sector; systematically identifying and punishing individuals working on behalf of Russia; restricting the working hours of the Narva border checkpoint; and so on.
The full transition of segregated Russian-language schools to Estonian is a separate matter, which had been stalled for three decades due to indecision by state leaders. Today, the Riigikogu gave this process a nearly finalized form by amending the Constitution in regard to voting rights.
Sometimes I ask myself: what if, at the end of February 2022, a pro-Ukraine demonstration with 20,000 participants had been held in Tallinn, organized by local Russian-speakers and conducted in Russian? What if Russian-speaking politicians from the Center Party had not fallen back into their old habits after the initial shock, but had taken the risk and historical responsibility to build a bridge between Estonians' existential fears and the initial confusion of local Russians? What if there were far more public figures with Russian names who took it upon themselves to help our Russians support Estonia's aspirations and translate the fears and hopes between both sides?
If that had happened, at least some of these radical changes might not have taken place. But things turned out differently. The credit of trust was simply too low.
The overall effect of these decisions can be summarized as follows: the influence of people who maintain various ties to Russia on Estonia's future is decreasing, and public institutions connected to Russian identity (church, school, associations, etc.) are either disappearing or weakening.
The communication by Estonian politicians and government institutions in implementing these steps has been vigorous and in direct response to the criminal aggression of the Russian state, yet one important shortcoming remains.
Namely, the majority of native Russian speakers have not been convinced that these are not ethnically motivated steps but rather tied to Russian citizenship and the toxicity of Russian statehood. A pivotal mistake was made when many politicians began justifying the removal of voting rights with vague ideological arguments that gradually shifted into ethnic territory instead of clearly emphasizing the legal status derived from one's passport.
A Russian citizen may be ready to strangle Putin with their bare hands—or to kiss him on the lips. No single trait can fully define a person. But it is clear that a Russian citizen is, unfortunately, legally bound to the Russian state through various obligations, and there is an evident legal conflict of loyalty with Estonia's democratic order, which stands in direct opposition to the Russian dictatorship in nearly every way.
With regard to worldview, however, studies unfortunately confirm that the vast majority of Russian citizens support the Kremlin’s aggressive policies and Vladimir Putin personally (Levada Center: support currently around 80 percent in Russia). Estonian surveys show, for example, that support for NATO membership or trust in the Estonian state is lower among Russian citizens and non-citizens who do not speak Estonian. In last year's elections, 75 percent of the votes cast in Estonia by Russian citizens went to Putin.
What has been done in Estonia over these three years is more disappointing to those who have a strong attachment to Russia as their beloved historical homeland they feel must be defended and which they believe the West is treating unfairly. The weaker this national and cultural attachment and the stronger the sense of belonging to Estonian society, the less likely a Russian person living in Estonia feels like a victim in this situation—and may even understand or support Estonia's actions.
It is important that party representatives and state officials firmly understand that friendly, neutral, or distinctly Estonia-minded Russian-speakers must not be pushed away based on superficial assumptions or their origin alone. Let us make a distinction—there is no such thing as a single «Russian community»; it is a highly diverse group with views ranging across the spectrum.
There are also those who simply do not care about political life—they are willing to live under any kind of political system. Political apathy, cynicism, and resignation are part of the reason why these steps have not triggered any serious protest among local Russians. Add to that the fear of being labeled a supporter of Russian aggression—which, unfortunately, sometimes proves accurate (let us recall the actions of Aivo Peterson).
The concept of victimhood is the most important keyword here. When tens of thousands of Ukrainian war refugees arrived in Estonia at the start of the war, a branch of local Russian propaganda tried to construct a narrative that these refugees were taking jobs and social support from Russians and committing offenses. That story did not take off. But now that same branch has a more powerful weapon: «Do not come to us talking about the suffering of the Ukrainian people and the need to punish Russia—you are making life worse for Russians right here in Estonia!» It is malicious, of course, but unfortunately many are receptive to it.
A modest knowledge of Russian and access to Facebook and TikTok is all it takes to discover, in just a few evenings, how powerfully an alternative Russian-language information space—hostile to Estonia, extremely cynical, and full of lies—has entrenched itself. The state is unable to influence it, and traditional Russian-language Estonian media plays only a limited role there.
This world is shaped by irritating bloggers unknown to the general public, figures who have worked in semi-hidden cooperation with the Kremlin for years, and Russian politicians from the second (and sometimes first) tier of the Center Party who walk a fine line while exploiting the theme of ethnic discrimination. Their new angle is to embrace Trump's policies as potentially pro-Russian, in hopes that he will «put Estonia in its place.»
These decisions send the signal that Estonia's security policy has become bolder, more direct, and intolerant of ambiguity. The line between «us» and «them» has grown bolder, yet it remains crossable. In light of the justified existential threat posed by Russia, Estonia has chosen a course that is unafraid to risk provoking the anger of thousands of its own residents.
Strategically, to be frank, we do not really have much of a choice—we have to go all in. Otherwise, a repeat of 1939 and 1940 in a new form is highly likely.
On the one hand, this gives the state a stronger image and instills discipline. Some people will adapt to the new reality, some will withdraw further into private life. Some will move away.
On the other hand, the main risk of going all in is that, in my view, about one-third of Russian-speakers—who already live somewhat separately from Estonian reality—are now fully pumped up with fresh resentment and do not want to hear anything about Estonians' concerns. We may well see someone try to channel this into something very harmful, and it may happen at a critical moment—that is the greatest risk of all.
That is why we need a positive program, and we need it now. A free society cannot get by merely by tightening the screws.
The transition to Estonian-language education must remain a well-funded priority, and failure is not an option. Those learning Estonian must be offered better and longer free courses. Estonian political parties must speak to voters of Russian background in both Tallinn and East-Viru County. The economic concerns of East-Viru County must be taken very seriously. There must be no genuinely unjust or unlawful ethnic discrimination, whether expressed through actions or words, in either the public or private sector. Russian-origin individuals who contribute to our freedom and domestic peace must be recognized and appreciated. And so on.
Even if it may sound a bit hollow in the context of this article—Estonia still needs every one of its people.
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