Finns Near Shuttered Russian
Border Face Uncertain Future

  IMATRA, Finland – Miia Torikka had just received a dispiriting phone call when I dropped in on her at the business that she’s been running for three years: The local newspaper broke the story she’d soon be closing.

  Amazingly, she handled the news with incredible calm.

  “I’ll try and find something else,” she said with little emotion – a Finnish trademark.

  The pending closure of the Escape Room & Bar has nothing to do with a lack of business. Rather, it’s a microcosm of a considerably larger event: The shuttering by Finland last year of its 830-mile border with Russia.

  Imatra, just five miles from the Russian town of Svetogorsk, is one of a number of border towns impacted by the closure. The reasons are not what I expected when I traveled the 156 miles from Helsinki. The road, Route 7, a four-lane super highway that cuts through vast pine and birch forests, was built for heavy traffic. But the farther east I went – toward the border – the fewer vehicles I saw, sometimes none for several miles.

  This was not normal, I was told.

  Previously, Finns enjoyed visiting Russia via Route 7 for cheaper gas, liquor and cigarettes. Russians traveled the road as well but not just as tourists summering on their neighbor’s turf. A number of them own vacation homes and, more significantly, have invested their rubles here in a big way.

  The largest sports and events arena in Helsinki is owned by a pair of Russian billionaires. Russians also control Teboil, a leading chain of service stations. Others, mostly individuals, are vested in commercial real estate.

  Which brings us to the plight of Miia, 45, and her 56-year-old husband, Marko, who helps with the business but also has his own pest control company.

  A Russian from St. Petersburg – 120 miles east of Imatra – has controlling interest in their building. Once the border closed, the owner was unable to pay her utility bills, leading local authorities to cut off the building’s natural gas supply, meaning no heat in winter.

  “When it gets cold, we won’t be able to operate,” Miia said, adding that the building's largest tenant has left, adding to the problem.

  Business was light during my visit so Miia had time to discuss her situation. She started the business during the COVID epidemic when Finns, unable to travel abroad, began flocking to places like Imatra, a town of 25,000 on the west bank of the Vuoski River. The Escape Room prospered.

  When Russia invaded Ukraine in early 2022, tensions rose in Finland after the Finns loudly protested the attack. Ukrainian flags popped up everywhere. Finns boycotted Teboil stations. European Union sanctions against Russian oligarchs resulted in the closing of Helsinki Arena.

  After Finland joined NATO in April 2023, an action Ukraine had earlier threatened leading in part to Russia’s invasion, many Finns worried they were next.

  Miia remembered being astounded by the rapid developments.

  “My grandfather fought in World War II [against Russia],” she said. “But when I was a child, I never thought we would have to worry about Russia, although like many Finns, I didn’t trust them.”

  The final insult of the Russians by the Finns was the closing of the border last November, temporarily at first then indefinitely in April. The closure, controversial among Finnish leaders, was in response to Russia suddenly sending hundreds of undocumented asylum seekers from the Middle East and Africa across the border in winter to an unprepared Finland. The Finns accused the Russians of weaponizing migration as a retaliatory move in response to Finland joining NATO and its support for Ukraine.

  Miia was clear on her feelings, which she said aligns with most Finns she knows.

  “Joining NATO was a good thing. And, frankly, people here are glad the border is closed, even if it costs them money. It’s just not about the refugees coming here but about feeling secure because we know the Russians are capable of bad things.”

Town Tour

  The Escape Room is located on the main throughfare in Imatra’s central commercial district. Across the street is a pedestrian walkway called the Koskenparras, which is lined with restaurants, bars, cafes, jewelers, boutiques, souvenir shops and kiosks. Although it was a Saturday afternoon in early August, the height of the tourist season, foot traffic was sparse, which a few years ago would have been unthinkable.  Some of the shops were closed for lunch, others permanently.

  Half way up the street Koskenparras opened into a large, circular common with benches and flower pots scattered about. The benches were mostly empty.

  The Central Hotel, at the east end of the common, was boarded up and badly in need of repair. I was told it is owned by Russians.

  Just past the hotel, Pub Vahti was one of the few venues with a decent crowd, most of whom sat outside drinking beer and sipping cocktails. Inside, one of the bartenders offered a different perspective on the absent Russians.

  “This business does not depend on them,” he said, not offering his name. “When they visit, they often bring their own food and drinks and stay to themselves. They don’t mix with the locals. [But] there has been an impact on some of the other businesses.”

  Back toward the Koskenparras entrance, at a small outdoor theater, two women practiced a comedy routine of some sort. Apparently, they would be performing later that day at Imatra’s annual Black & White Festival. It was hard to imagine a large crowd turning up. The vibe was so negative, I didn’t stick around to find out.

  As I exited Koskenparras, I felt like I was leaving a county fair the day after it ended.

The Future

  You could argue that the ripple effect of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has damaged Imatra beyond repair.

  Miia thinks so.

  “The town is dying,” she said. “Everyone is leaving.”

  Among them is her 17-year-old daughter, Wilma, who is studying in Helsinki. She left at 16.

  “I told her ‘You don’t have to build your life here. There’s nothing.’”

  The swiftness of Imatra’s decline and that of the Escape Room was clear on the second floor. Investing € 10,000, the Torrikas opened a miniature golf course earlier in the year to take advantage of the long winters that chase Finns inside. The course will not survive its first season.

  Miia, raised in the area, is reluctant to leave. Although clueless about her future she talks bravely of soldiering on.

  “We managed to overcome adversity before, we’ll manage again,” she said.

  The larger issue is the looming shadow of its massive neighbor – Russia has roughly 26 times the population of Finland, 144 million to 5.5 million. For more than two years Finns have witnessed on their daily TV news the massive loss of life in Ukraine. With those images seared into the psyche of Imatra’s citizens, their problems feel more like an inconvenience, according to Miia.

  “It could have been us,” she said.

Editor’s note: Second in a series from a reporting trip to Finland August 2-6, 2024

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Reported and written by: George J. Tanber

Edited by: Michael Gordon

Photo editor: David Kozy