Strengthening NATO's northern border becomes crucial for Finland amidst escalating tensions with Russia.
Fire up the drones and gird your loins, fellow Finns, as we stare down the barrel of old-school Cold War tensions, thanks to our northerly neighbors and their devious tactics. From the icy depths of the Finnish border, a mere stone's throw from Mother Russia, the air is thick with paranoia and the scent of war.
A decade after the invasion of Ukraine, Helsinki finally jumped ship and joined NATO, marking an end to the city's decades-long military non-alignment and decades-long dance of denials and guessing games. The Kremlin, predictably, did not take the news lying down and promptly began deploying troops and weaponry along the 1,340km frontier - Europe's longest - from the Arctic to Southern Europe.
For Janne Latto, a hardworking reservist and Finnish army lieutenant, it's a no brainer. He's arming himself with more than just an assembly line of neon signs and billboards; he's investing in small surveillance drones that he sees as the new battleground for any future conflict on this volatile soil.
"What if they decide to come and change the border, just like they went to Ukraine?" Latto muses, his mind haunted by Soviet invasion attempts past and the decimation of his grandfather's hometown, Ayrapaa, during the unrelenting World War II. He's not alone in that sentiment; Finland estimates that tens of thousands of its citizens share his fears and are eager to take up arms in defense of the country.
But not everyone has welcomed the renewed security measures with open arms. Some border communities, once humming with Russian trade and tourism, now lay empty and silent, their local economies shuddering in their wake. Shopping malls and restaurants that buzzed with Russian visitors have fallen eerily quiet, while up to 13 million annual cross-border trips have ground to a halt.
For Janne Tarvainen, an antique shop owner who once cursed the Russian hordes for their busy reservations and full parking lots, the silence feels less like a shot to the bottom line and more like a sucker punch to the heart, leaving him searching for online shoppers to replace the lost footfall.
Indeed, with a dearth of friendly faces pouring over the border, deep rifts have emerged in some border families, fractured by the collision of identities and a shared pain that threatens to overshadow the warm memories of old friendships and family reunions.
Take Oksana Serebriakova, a local woman whose husband and elder son reside in Moscow, while she and her youngest son call Lappeenranta home. The border closure has created a bitter schism, leaving the family stranded on opposite sides and the mother yearning for her son's company.
"The migration problem could have been solved with measures such as strict checks at entry points similar to airports," Serebriakova laments, despairingly assessing the failings of her adopted homeland.
But Finnish officials, keen to assert their dominance, have turned a deaf ear to the plight of the displaced and declared the border "inviolable." The Finnish government even announced plans to stockpile landmines along the lengthy frontier, asserting its determination to keep Russian encroachment at bay.
The Kremlin, for its part, has brushed off Finland's assertions that they pose no threat and expressed grave concern over the escalating military buildup along the border. Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov called military preparations near its border "alarming," and warned of a proportionate response.
Yet, beneath the surface tension, Finland's outlook remains a mix of defiance and hesitation. Even as the armed forces continue to strengthen their ranks and the barriers along the frontier rise higher, some question whether the measures are sustainable or even necessary, and wonder whether their efforts to protect their land have doomed them to live out another chapter of the Cold War.
As a result of Finland's joining NATO and the Kremlin's response with troop and weapon deployment, discussions about war-and-conflicts and politics have escalated, making the general-news headlines. The Finnish reservist, Janne Latto, is taking action by investing in small surveillance drones, fearing potential changes in the border that could lead to future conflicts. At the same time, border communities are experiencing economic hardships due to the diminished Russian trade and tourism.
