"If a show like 'Peaky Blinders' were shot in Estonia, it would definitely take place in Ida-Virumaa (Ida-Viru County)," says University of Murcia anthropologist Francisco Martínez. "In the interwar period (1918-1939), one could hear Polish, German, Finnish, Swedish and Latvian as much as Estonian. Gangs were formed here, and in places like Narva or Kiviõli, every boy carried firearms around."

This is "the other Estonia" — one largely absent from broader national narratives, and the subject of Martínez's new book "The Future of Hiding. Secrecy, Infrastructure, and Ecological Memory in Estonia's Siberia."

From the abandoned coal mines of Kohtla-Nõmme to the maze of canals at Kulgu — known locally as "Narva Venice" — Martínez takes readers to parts of Estonia that, for many, remain uncharted territory.

His affection for Ida-Viru County and the stories of those who live there is clear to see — and those feelings only grew stronger the more research he did. "Once you are obsessed with a topic, you read everything about it that you come across," he tells me.

"It is like when you are in love and every song reminds you of your counterpart."

National blind spot

Ida-Viru County occupies a unique place in the Estonian national consciousness. As Martínez points out, traces of the region's historical complexity have long been evident.

"You can see them in the diary of (journalist) Lembit Lauri and the articles of (writer) Osvald Tooming," he says. "Even after the war, there were still many tensions among different communities, as folklorist Tiiu Jaago described."

Those tensions persist today, with perceptions of the region, particularly those held by observers from the outside, often less than favorable.

Martínez recalls several difficult conversations with acquaintances in Tallinn about the subject of his research. One described Ida-Viru County as "a place that seems to be part of Estonia but not Europe," he tells me, while another compared Estonia's easternmost region to faraway Siberia.

For some, those preconceptions have hardened further since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine began in 2022. "Voting laws, new language requirements and fears of Moscow's influence have turned the presence of Russian speakers into a geopolitical problem," Martínez says.

"As a result, the bodies, language and identities of the local population are objectified as both risks and residues of the aggressive empire — notwithstanding what their views are in this regard."

This, Martínez says, has led to "a sense of incomplete belonging, regional disposability, mistrust and a very particular ecological memory."

Post-broken normality

Despite this, Martínez encountered many residents of Ida-Viru County, who feel a strong sense of attachment to their home region and Estonia more broadly.

He tells the story of Jelena, who lives in the once-thriving mining town of Kohtla-Järve. Though her apartment block is now earmarked for demolition, Jelena "keeps decorating it with mosaics made of leftovers from construction sites, as a gesture of public kindness."

In Sillamäe — a closed town during the Soviet era — Martínez met another Jelena, along with her friend Tatjana, at the unique resting place they created in the forest called "Wonderland" ("Chudamäe").

Filled "with garlands hanging on trees, a canopy, a booth, benches, tables, banners, carved figures and over 100 toys, each carefully seated," Jelena and Tatjana take great joy from customizing this environment with objects reminding them, and those who visit, of childhood and proudly speak of the time in 2021 when Estonian President Kersti Kaljulaid dropped by to meet them.

Places like these, along with the abundance of half-empty buildings in the region, are "evocative of a post-broken normality in which things have not been fixed," Martínez says. For local people, however, life goes on. "They buy ice cream, water their plants, invite you in for tea just as they do in any other place. But when they walk their dog, they do so among industrial ruins, mine shafts and a nasty (chemical-induced) stench."

In this sense, Martínez points out, Ida-Viru County has long functioned as "a social laboratory answering key issues such as (those related to) the sustainability of fossil resources, disconnection from the Russian energy hub, social integration, the rural-urban cleavage and the entanglement of global finances within local contexts."

By foregrounding stories from everyday life, Martínez hopes his book will not only help document Ida-Viru County's mining history, but also "give a voice to people who are not often heard," and, maybe even "contribute to how the region is perceived in the rest of the country."

Hidden secrets

In his mission to uncover authentic local voices, Martínez's research took him to places others frequently overlook, with basements, garages and dachas playing a central role. "These hidden corners shelter ideas and relations that don't fit the current official script," he says, adding that "what goes on in the shadows stands at the limits of knowing,"

But getting access to those spaces, and the secrets they contained, was far from simple. "In a liminal region like Ida-Viru County, trust is not abundant," Martínez tells me.

Posts he made on Facebook asking residents to show him their basements were often met with skepticism — and occasionally ridicule. Some even suspected Martínez might be "a thief or a secret police officer," he says. "So, I had to gradually gain the trust of local people, who themselves put me in contact with their friends or relatives."

Collaborating with Estonian artists on a series of exhibitions in, and about, the region, along with the input of academics from other disciplines also helped break down barriers. Martínez believes, too, that his own status as an outsider — to Ida-Viru County and Estonia in general — played a major role in convincing people to open up.

"It probably helped that I speak Russian with a Spanish accent and do not show myself to be judgmental of local views," he tells me. "Being considered a stranger in a strange land also helped me come to terms with my own foreignness in Estonia. I often felt at home in Ida-Viru County."

Not that all the encounters he had with locals were easy to navigate. "I met several people who referred to Putin as their president, despite living in Estonia," Martínez explains. "Some were Cold War nostalgists with whom I strongly disagreed, or who I even disliked, but whom I tried to listen to still."

As a researcher, however, paying attention to those with opposing views, no matter how unpalatable, is all part of the job description. "After all, conspiracy theories and misleading statements from informants are also data," he says, that help deepen understanding of "the structure of local feelings."

The Future of Hiding

Having visited Ida-Viru County at least once a month over the five years he spent writing "The Future of Hiding," Martínez says he came to realize it was time to move on.

Now, his research has expanded to include Latvia and Lithuania, with a focus on "how crises manifest materially in the Baltic region" — from the construction of Rail Baltica to the sabotage attempts against airports and the disconnection from the Russian and Belarusian BRELL electricity system.

Still, Ida-Viru County remains close to his heart. This spring, Martínez will present "The Future of Hiding" at the Sillamäe Museum and he's also in discussions about the possibility of curating a new exhibition in Narva.

"There are many interesting topics in Ida-Viru County that have not yet been researched," Martínez says, from the Pühtitsa Convent to the processing of rare-earth materials into batteries in Sillamäe.

"The construction of a network of bunkers along the border is also appealing to me. I've tried but, somehow, haven't been able to develop an innovative angle on it," he adds with a smile. "Well, at least not yet."

***

"The Future of Hiding. Secrecy, Infrastructure, and Ecological Memory in Estonia's Siberia," by Francisco Martínez was published by Cornell University Press in 2025.

The book is available for free download here.

A book launch event will be held at the Rüütel & Matilda Bookshop in Tallinn on January 30 from 6 p.m. Author Francisco Martínez will discuss his work in conversation with journalist Marian Võsumets.

Details about the launch event can be found here.

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