There is nothing particularly new in the fact that, in the recent local elections, many native Russian-speaking voters rallied behind the Center Party or Mihhail Stalnuhhin's electoral alliance in Narva. This has, broadly speaking, been the case for nearly 30 years. A more pertinent question might be whether this situation will ever change — and if so, under what circumstances.

As the results of this year's elections became clear, many voices claimed that Russian-speaking voters in Narva, Kohtla-Järve, Maardu or Tallinn were expressing protest. Protest against stripping Russian citizens of voting rights, against the transition to Estonian-language education, against tighter border controls, against efforts to limit the influence of the Moscow Patriarchate in Estonia or against Estonia's support for Ukraine.

Still, it would be inaccurate to label this year's elections as exceptional "protest elections." Or if we do, we must acknowledge that this protest has lasted over 30 years and can be described, in general terms, as a protest against pro-Estonian sentiment.

For decades, a large portion of Russian-speaking voters have consistently supported Stalnuhhin and like-minded politicians in Narva regardless of whether Russian citizens were allowed to vote or not, whether schools were required to transition to Estonian or could continue teaching in Russian as before, whether the Soviet tank stood on the banks of the Narva River or in the Viimsi War Museum and whether the Bronze Soldier stood on Tõnismägi or at the Defense Forces Cemetery, whether the Estonian state attempted to encourage pro-Estonian sentiment among its Russian-speaking population with soft gloves or firmer ones.

There is no doubt that unemployment, lower wages and other issues related to economic hardship contribute to a sense of resentment. But unfortunately, we cannot conclude that economic well-being necessarily translates into greater loyalty to the state in which one lives. It's worth recalling that the Bronze Night riots took place in the spring of 2007, at a time when Estonia's economy was booming, with annual growth reaching 10 percent and people's incomes rapidly rising.

Whether running under the Center Party banner or independently, Stalnuhhin's allies know how to turn the attitudes of local residents into votes. A consistent hallmark of their political strategy is opposition to Estonian state policy.

It is no coincidence that several politicians elected to the Riigikogu from Ida-Viru County have abstained from votes on, for example, statements marking the anniversary of Soviet deportations or condemning Russian aggression in Georgia or Ukraine.

Meanwhile, many favorite candidates among voters in some Ida-Viru cities point the finger at the Estonian government as the source of local problems, blaming it for neglecting education and healthcare and for spending money on weapons instead. At the same time, they never admit that rising defense expenditures are a response to an aggressive eastern neighbor. They deliberately avoid calling Russia an aggressor state or Vladimir Putin the head of a dictatorial regime.

In the last couple of decades, there have been only a few so-called open windows during which other political forces have managed to achieve short-term success in the major cities of Ida-Viru County. One such moment came in the 2021 elections, when Jüri Ratas attempted to shift the Center Party in a more pro-Estonian direction, creating brief confusion among long-time loyal supporters unsure of what the party now stood for.

Other such periods have followed major corruption scandals in Kohtla-Järve or Narva, after which voters' trust in their long-standing leaders temporarily faltered.

But those moments passed quickly. One comment on social media last week summed up this attitude well. Responding to a news story about two Kohtla-Järve politicians convicted of accepting bribes, the commenter wrote, in essence: "If the choice is between a corrupt politician and a nationalist, I'll grit my teeth and choose the corrupt one." In this worldview, "nationalist" effectively means any politician who defends the Estonian language, culture and statehood, because any attempt to strengthen those things is, to them, nationalism.

Mihhail Stalnuhhin has repeatedly and openly said that he doesn't care what people in the rest of Estonia think of him. What matters to him is what the people of Narva think. It's a pragmatic approach. But it must be recognized that it's difficult for other Estonian politicians to explain to their own voters why more public funds should be directed to a city whose favorite politician calls the Estonian government fascists.

So how can such deeply entrenched attitudes be changed? There are no simple answers. What is clear is that other political parties need to begin operating seriously in the cities of Ida-Viru County. It is not enough to make occasional visits and take selfies. It's unrealistic to expect that someone like Katri Raik can, on her own, stand for the interests of the Estonian state in Narva against politicians with far greater local influence.

Change will require a higher proportion of pro-Estonian residents in the region in every sense. One of the most effective ways to achieve that would be relocating state institutions to Ida-Viru County. Asserting the authority of the Estonian state requires the kind of confidence that was present in Northeastern Estonia in the early 1990s. It's also crucial to persist in the slow and often frustrating work of integrating Russian-speaking residents into Estonian society, even if the results come far more slowly than hoped.

I recommend reading a longer piece by businessman Allan Kaldoja, who has roots in Narva and founded the Vaba Lava theater center there. His article, "Opportunities for a Bright Future in Narva," appeared in a special issue of the journal Akadeemia devoted to Virumaa. Alongside a description of Narva's current challenges, Kaldoja outlines ways to bring more Estonia into Narva. This includes coordinated efforts on multiple fronts — creating jobs that attract and retain young people, continuously linking cultural spaces and modernizing the urban environment.

In Kaldoja's view, the goal should be for our non-Estonian fellow citizens to speak Estonian in addition to their native language and to share, at least in large part, Estonia's cultural norms and values. Achieving this goal will not be cheap. But it is essential if we want our borders to remain where they are now and if we want less internal division in our society.

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