Narva, the hometown of Narvamus, is one of the largest cities in Estonia for now. However, according to Põhjarannik and gazeta.ee, it leads among Ida-Virumaa cities in terms of population decline, mostly affecting the younger generation. However, whether they stay or move away, one characteristic unites Narva’s youth: intercultural identity.
The term "interculture" refers to the intersection of different cultures, leading to the emergence of a new, independent culture. Regardless of how you define Narva’s residents—people of border identity, citizens of the borderland, in essence, all this can be summed up in a couple of simple words - Russian Estonians, Estonian landowners or Russian-speaking Estonians. And one doesn’t even need an Estonian passport to be considered Estonian. In this article, I use the term "Estonian" to refer to anyone living in Estonia.
This article will touch upon the topic of self-perception of Narva residents, as it has been particularly relevant and painful lately. The most discussed issue is, of course, the Estonian language. Despite significant attention given to its study in Narva, a lack of practice means that acquired knowledge is mostly used only within educational institutions, preventing proper retention and making it easy to forget.
Since the start of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, relations between Estonian- and Russian-speaking Estonians have become tense. If the situation with the Estonian language among the Russian-speaking population was relevant before, now radical ideas to “eradicate” the Russian language become more frequent. An example is the 2022 law on the transition of schools to Estonian-language education, as well as the disappearance of the Russian language from state websites and the cessation of translation of laws into Russian. Naturally, such an attitude does not go unnoticed and provoke a wide range of emotions.
This problem resonates within society, which is why it finds expression through art. In February last year, young artist Daria Morozova shared her experience through an exhibition. Her series of works, Becoming New, was displayed at an art residency. In an interview with Margarita Skripkina, Daria explained that the title reflected her desire to "get rid of her Russianness" and "become someone else." She admitted that she felt uncomfortable speaking her native language and eventually even lost the habit of speaking it. During the exhibition, Daria engaged with visitors by conducting surveys and gathering opinions. Visitors of the exhibition were invited to answer questions such as: "Have you ever felt out of place in society? How difficult was that feeling?" and "If you could become someone else, who would you choose to be?" According to the artist, we may soon learn more about the results of this survey.
The topic of belonging is truly significant. Many young Narva residents struggle to clearly answer, "Who are you—Russian or Estonian?" And they are forced to answer, as the state does not recognize a separate "Russian Estonian" identity, which would suit them best. For this reason, many must select "other" or choose an available category they do not fully relate to. This leads to the feeling of being a stranger in your own country, triggering nostalgia for a time when this struggle did not exist.
It is important to remember that we are not alone. There are other countries in the world where people also experience an identity crisis due to historical events and cultural peculiarities. Our neighbors—the other two Baltic states—as well as Georgia and Israel, share similar struggles. How these countries cope with interculturality is a topic worth exploring, but we should all look up to countries like the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland. The presence of a culture different from Estonian is not a flaw but rather an advantage that enriches the country. Therefore, we must appreciate and respect our differences rather than grow further apart.
Narva's identity is a fascinating phenomenon. Despite the fact that most of the young people are leaving, they still call themselves "Narva residents" and continue to feel a sense of belonging to the city. In a world where everything is divided into Russian or Estonian, it is important to remain Narva residents—to reject imposed labels and accept your uniqueness. Feeling cornered is natural, but it is important to remember that there are others who share the same experiences. The identity of Russian Estonians is an important issue that must be discussed—louder, but not angrier, for anger leads nowhere good.
The term "interculture" refers to the intersection of different cultures, leading to the emergence of a new, independent culture. Regardless of how you define Narva’s residents—people of border identity, citizens of the borderland, in essence, all this can be summed up in a couple of simple words - Russian Estonians, Estonian landowners or Russian-speaking Estonians. And one doesn’t even need an Estonian passport to be considered Estonian. In this article, I use the term "Estonian" to refer to anyone living in Estonia.
This article will touch upon the topic of self-perception of Narva residents, as it has been particularly relevant and painful lately. The most discussed issue is, of course, the Estonian language. Despite significant attention given to its study in Narva, a lack of practice means that acquired knowledge is mostly used only within educational institutions, preventing proper retention and making it easy to forget.
Since the start of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, relations between Estonian- and Russian-speaking Estonians have become tense. If the situation with the Estonian language among the Russian-speaking population was relevant before, now radical ideas to “eradicate” the Russian language become more frequent. An example is the 2022 law on the transition of schools to Estonian-language education, as well as the disappearance of the Russian language from state websites and the cessation of translation of laws into Russian. Naturally, such an attitude does not go unnoticed and provoke a wide range of emotions.
This problem resonates within society, which is why it finds expression through art. In February last year, young artist Daria Morozova shared her experience through an exhibition. Her series of works, Becoming New, was displayed at an art residency. In an interview with Margarita Skripkina, Daria explained that the title reflected her desire to "get rid of her Russianness" and "become someone else." She admitted that she felt uncomfortable speaking her native language and eventually even lost the habit of speaking it. During the exhibition, Daria engaged with visitors by conducting surveys and gathering opinions. Visitors of the exhibition were invited to answer questions such as: "Have you ever felt out of place in society? How difficult was that feeling?" and "If you could become someone else, who would you choose to be?" According to the artist, we may soon learn more about the results of this survey.
The topic of belonging is truly significant. Many young Narva residents struggle to clearly answer, "Who are you—Russian or Estonian?" And they are forced to answer, as the state does not recognize a separate "Russian Estonian" identity, which would suit them best. For this reason, many must select "other" or choose an available category they do not fully relate to. This leads to the feeling of being a stranger in your own country, triggering nostalgia for a time when this struggle did not exist.
It is important to remember that we are not alone. There are other countries in the world where people also experience an identity crisis due to historical events and cultural peculiarities. Our neighbors—the other two Baltic states—as well as Georgia and Israel, share similar struggles. How these countries cope with interculturality is a topic worth exploring, but we should all look up to countries like the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland. The presence of a culture different from Estonian is not a flaw but rather an advantage that enriches the country. Therefore, we must appreciate and respect our differences rather than grow further apart.
Narva's identity is a fascinating phenomenon. Despite the fact that most of the young people are leaving, they still call themselves "Narva residents" and continue to feel a sense of belonging to the city. In a world where everything is divided into Russian or Estonian, it is important to remain Narva residents—to reject imposed labels and accept your uniqueness. Feeling cornered is natural, but it is important to remember that there are others who share the same experiences. The identity of Russian Estonians is an important issue that must be discussed—louder, but not angrier, for anger leads nowhere good.
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This material is part of the PERSPECTIVES 2 project – a new label for independent, constructive, and multiperspective journalism. The project is funded by the European Union. The opinions and positions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the European Union or the European Education and Culture Executive Agency (EACEA). The European Union and EACEA assume no responsibility for them. Learn more about PERSPECTIVES.
This material is part of the PERSPECTIVES 2 project – a new label for independent, constructive, and multiperspective journalism. The project is funded by the European Union. The opinions and positions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the European Union or the European Education and Culture Executive Agency (EACEA). The European Union and EACEA assume no responsibility for them. Learn more about PERSPECTIVES.
