From the gigantic patrol command bridge SafetyMikko Simola, the commander at the head of the Coast Guard who watches over the security of the Gulf of Finland, points with his finger – almost as a reflex act – towards the east, towards the only sea language that, after crossing Helsinki and Tallin, flows into the Russian city of St. Petersburg.
In that area, Simola and his boys have been seeing passing in front of their eyes – and of their radars – Russian warships. “His presence is much greater,” he says. So is that of the calls, the old fleet that the Kremlin uses to dodge the western sanctions and whose transfer continues – adjust to those clippers – at the rate of “between 30 and 50 per week.”
In the almost four years after the first Russian bombings on Ukraine, Simola has seen everything. Own Safety, In his command, he intercepted last Christmas one of those oil tankers in the shade ,. He intuits that it will not be the last time it happens: whatever happens in Ukraine, the Kremlin will never stop using this key water path.
Without being one of the countries directly affected by the swarms of drones and cyber attacks, which in recent weeks have put practically all their neighbors in the north and east of the EU, Finland and its almost six million inhabitants go through a critical moment. A fear founded on its own history and an objective fact: its border with Russia is, however, the greatest of the entire old continent.
“We, together with the Baltic and Poland, are defending all of Europe. It is here where we need solidarity for the sake of security [común]. This is something that must be understood in the rest of Europe, ”defended Finnish Prime Minister, Petteri Orpo, during the visit of the European Commissioner of Defense, Andrius Kubilius last week.
Fear is there, latent but obvious. The terrestrial border of Finland with Russia is the largest of all member states: 1,300 kilometers, the triple than that of the Euroasymatic giant with Estonia, the country that goes behind. His is also a past shared with Russia, whose empire was part of until 1917 and with whom, until February 2022, he chose to maintain an attitude on horseback between dialogue and appeasement. With more than the second than the first: it has been, decades, suffering in the first person the same violations of airspace that now affect other countries of the north and east of Europe. But times have changed: the invasion of Ukraine is seen as more than a notice to navigators.
In front of the threat, Helsinki an almost unimaginable step: he left behind his historical neutrality and decided to enter NATO. Thus, under a powerful military umbrella in front of a neighbor of the east, more and more unpredictable and practically duplicate, the length of the border of the alliance with Russia was sheltered.
Adhesion to the Atlantic Alliance, almost anathema until shortly before, had a 70% support of the population, according to surveys. And it remains practically stable since then, according to Teemu Tallberg, professor of military sociology at the Military Academy of Santahamina. It provides additional fact: in the last surveys, more than eight out of ten Finnish says that if the country were attacked, they would take arms to defend themselves. “Even if the final result of the contest was uncertain,”
The reason behind that social support is Meridiana: after more than eight decades without feeling Moscow’s breath in the neck – from the winter war, when the Soviet troops invaded the Nordic country, in an episode in which some believe they see parallels with the current situation in Ukraine – the anxiety has returned to the scene.
The reasons are seen. In May, several satellite images confirmed the deployment of thousands of Russian military on the other side of the border. Perhaps to retreat – when peace is reached – to the troops today deployed in Ukraine, perhaps with other objectives. Some maneuvers that, in any case, the Chief of Strategy of the Finnish Army, Sami Nurmi, called to “follow very closely.” His work, he said in an expression that is repeated in the long dozen of official sources consulted by the country, is “being prepared for the worst.” Their last calculations suggest that the number of highlighted Russian soldiers on the other side of the border is today between double and triple that before the invasion of Ukraine.
Shelters and mili
Finnish authorities have been obsessed with a word: resilience. The modern version – and slightly seasoned – of the resistance of a lifetime. They are prepared, in short, for an emergency scenario that fortunately has not yet occurred. Only in this way can it be explained that the country has – action – a shelter ready for all Finns: 50,000 shelters in total, mostly underground, with what is necessary to cover, at least, the first 72 hours of a hypothetical invasion, the most critical.
“Russia has always been there and, although the probability of a war is still low, it is much greater than in 2022.” Who speaks is Tomi Rask, Helsinki emergency officer. He does it from the bowels of one of these shelters, in the heart of the city and five floors underground and under a network of metal stairs. Surrounded by rock almost by the four sides – as could be a mine – his words resonate with a special echo: “When he came to visit us a Ukraine delegation, he gave us a recommendation: prepared status.” To a large extent, they were already: they started decades ago, in the middle of the cold war.
The second pillar of the Finnish security strategy – which is necessary to be the most advanced in the twenty -seven – is military service. He never ceased to be mandatory for men, a rarity in the community environment but, in recent times ,.
The low number of professional troops – not more than 20,000, compared to Russia’s million – is largely compensated with young people who, after half a year of training in the barracks, go to the reservation for life. They add up to another 230,000 troops ready to be activated if things get ugly. One million if they add to those who have received some type of military training, sometimes a few days or weeks.
“Hopefully it never happens, but we have to be prepared for everything,” says Holmström, a young recruit of just over 20 years that military service does on Santahamina Island, at a step of Helsinki. It supports on the ground the practical rifle, in the shadow of the huge conifers that make up one of the most classic landscapes of this northern corner of Europe. It will spend here almost a year, such as “90%” of their school friends who have opted for military service and not for the civilian, the other possible option.
Closed border
Almost all looks are directed, however, about 200 kilometers east, to the physical border with Russia. There, the Finnish government has been working for a couple of years in the construction of a fence that will cover the seventh part of the Linde. Its 4.5 meters high will not prevent, unwilling air interference, a novelty in Poland or Romania but an uncomfortable reality here for years. It does, however, to stop the passage of migrants from third countries (such as Syria or Somalia), which shot in the summer of 2023 and that Helsinki directly accuses Moscow.
The economic consequences of the border hill are evident, especially in two planes. In the micro, because with the steps between both countries closed until new order the border towns are the ones that are taking the biggest blow, with large economic losses and a unemployment rate that does not stop growing: they lived from the money left by those who passed from one side to another, and no one will cross again those limits in a long time.
In the macro, because after that hill practically all Finnish imports – which are many – have the sea as the only way of entry. He was born, as he says, a commercial island in the northern end of Europe.
Cannons or butter
In less than a five years, Finland has practically doubled its defense expenditure: 1.4% of GDP from 2021 to 2.8% planned for this year. Far still from the demanding 5% objective set by NATO by 2035, but already above the average of the alliance despite its recent economic narrows and its everlasting inclination for fiscal austerity. The weight of the investment in equipment is also the third highest in allied countries, which has earned it the applause of the organization. At the expense, yes, of social spending.
“Budgets are a zero sum game: if you increase the defense expenditure, you have to lower it in other games,” Stubb acknowledges in conversation with this newspaper. The famous dichotomy: cannons or butter. Flag of austerity – for the rest, yes – since time immemorial, Finland begins to apply the librillo to itself. With consequences that begin to be intuited: discontent grows and unemployment is runaway: it reaches 10%, one step away from overcoming Spain. And the current conservative coalition suffers backwards after reverse in the surveys. But everything is, the authorities conclude, due to the tranquility of the almost six million Finns living under the sharp Russian dagger.
