Baltic Tragedy: NATO/EU Prepping Latvia, Lithuania & Estonia For War | Romans Sklenniks [Reupload]

The Baltic states’ pivot from being pragmatic intermediaries between East and West to ideological outposts of a confrontational Europe has produced a cascade of economic, social, and political shocks. The conversation with Romans Sklenniks surfaces how policy choices driven by anti-Russian sentiment—rather than careful national development—have reshaped identity, energy security, media ecosystems, and historical memory in Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. That transformation matters not only for the Baltics themselves but for European stability: decoupling networks and demonizing large segments of society make the region more brittle and more easily pushed toward crisis. ## From Gateway to Outpost Once cast as a "gateway" linking European markets to Russia, the Baltic states reoriented decisively after 2014. What had been a geography of opportunity—rail corridors, port transit, financial flows tied to east–west commerce—was recast as a geopolitical liability to be severed. The conversation describes this pivot as tragic: policies that once generated revenue and integration have been abandoned in favor of a posture of exceptional hostility toward Russia. The result is economic contraction where growth once came from cross-border commerce and transit taxes. The symbolic shift—pretending the Baltics are solely European bastions with no practical or historic ties eastward—has real, measurable consequences for livelihoods and state revenue. This change was not an inevitable correction after Soviet rule; it was a choice. Turning away from pragmatic relations with immediate neighbors and embracing a national narrative built around anti-Russian identity narrowed policy options. That narrower lens has pushed the Baltics into an economic and strategic corner: costly alignment with EU and NATO policies, diminished regional cooperation, and, as several speakers pointed out, a loss of the diplomatic space that used to reassure minority communities and cross-border partners. ## The Politics of Integration and Identity Integration policies in the Baltics promised cohesion but often delivered assimilation with strings attached. The conversation frames Latvia’s approach as having gone beyond promoting civic unity to trying to "remake" Russian-speakers into a simplified national identity. The effect is not merely administrative; it is cultural engineering. Citizenship tests, language exams, and pressure on Russian-language education become tools of compliance rather than bridges to belonging. Romans Sklenniks’ personal account highlights how loyalty and linguistic proficiency do not inoculate one from suspicion. Even long-standing residents who are functionally bilingual and invested in Latvia’s future find themselves recast as potential security threats if they maintain cultural ties to Russia. The psychological toll is significant: older populations, who did not migrate voluntarily or recently, feel uprooted and scrutinized. Policies designed to create a monolithic national story have instead produced a crisis of identity—where belonging is conditional, contested, and often punitive. The broader consequence is predictable: defining a nation primarily as “not the other” weakens civic foundations. Past European examples suggest that successful polities build collective projects—industrial policy, cultural institutions, economic modernization—rather than revanchist identity politics. When a society’s energy goes into policing memory and loyalty, it has less capacity to foster innovation, integration, or social trust. ## Economic Cost: Transit, Energy, and Industry The practical fallout of the political reorientation is clearest in the economic data. Transit revenues that once accounted for substantial portions of GDP have evaporated. Rail lines that were municipal cash cows are now sometimes described as redundant—an astounding reversal that illustrates how quickly geopolitical choices can hollow out local economies. When a fifth of GDP disappears because cross-border commerce is cut off, austerity follows and investment halts. Energy policy illustrates another layer of strategic risk. The Baltic states have intentionally decoupled from Russian grids and sources, framing the move as a sovereignty-enhancing step. Yet decoupling without viable alternatives exposes consumers and industries to steep costs and supply vulnerabilities. The conversation points to striking discrepancies: shared market membership in Nord Pool has not prevented Baltic spot prices from spiking far above those in neighboring Finland and Sweden. Lithuania, in particular, faces acute stress: having closed its own Soviet-era nuclear capacity when joining the EU, it now imports the majority of its electricity. Meanwhile, nearby Belarus has invested in modern nuclear generation—yet political choices limit pragmatic energy sharing. Those are not abstract anxieties. Seasonal variability, droughts that depress hydro output, and the possibility of export curbs from neighboring suppliers can all precipitate energy shortfalls. The argument made in the discussion is direct: decoupling constrains options and raises the risk of crises in cold winters or hot summers. This is compounded by broader European energy shocks, which hit the Baltics more severely because of their smaller markets and fewer alternative suppliers. Beyond energy, the conversation examines the deeper structural damage to industrial capacity in the region and neighboring states. Ukraine’s industrial heartland, for instance, is compared to Europe’s Ruhr: densely specialized and historically integrated with Russian supply chains. Policies that sever market ties without creating new ones produce deindustrialization. The lesson for the Baltics is sobering: breakage in economic networks can be long-term and ruinous when not accompanied by realistic industrial or investment strategies. ## Memory, Monuments, and Historical Reckoning Cultural policy has become an arena of contestation. Removing monuments, forbidding works by figures with communist pasts, and sanitizing historical narratives reflect a desire to build an uncontested national myth. But the conversation warns that such iconoclasm risks erasing the complexity of Baltic histories. Figures who participated in Soviet institutions are not always simple villains; the past here is tangled, involving occupations, local collaboration, resistance, and survival choices made under coercion. The demolition of the Red Army monument in Riga is emblematic. For some citizens it is an overdue repudiation of occupation; for others, it is an assault on family memory—grandparents who fought, losses incurred in the ferocious battles of 1944–45. The discussion contends that the wholesale removal of reference points does not heal wounds; it displaces them and compounds grievance. Efforts to ban books, relocate statues, or erase contentious episodes are less about reconciliation than about constructing a homogenized narrative that delegitimizes dissenting memories. The danger is political and social. When memory becomes a litmus test for loyalty, citizens with different recollections become second-class, and historical complexity gives way to propaganda. A healthy polity needs room for divergent narratives and shared spaces where memory can be debated rather than policed. ## Media, Free Speech, and Information Wars Free press and public debate are casualties of these tensions. Independent Russian-language outlets in the Baltics have faced blockage, de-funding, and legal pressure. The conversation details a pattern: channels critical of prevailing state policies get shut out, while investigative work uncovering corruption—especially around military procurement—meets with legal retaliation. The arrest of a Latvian investigative journalist examining alleged theft in defense spending is presented as a case in point: a self-inflicted wound by a state that claims to defend democratic norms while underminin

Baltic Tragedy: NATO/EU Prepping For War | Romans Sklenniks [REUPLOAD: An earlier version of this video had no sound. I apologise for the mistake] What is happening in the three small Baltic nations bordering Russia? Why is the electricity grid being decoupled and how did the countries change from a "bridge to the east" to a failed outpost of the EU and a potential next flashpoint for war with Russia? Today I'm talking to Romans Sklenniks, a former journalist in Latvia who, together with a political activist and former politician from Lithuania is running a discussion platform opposite to the mainstream media in the baltic states. Together we want to talk about media and the political situation in the Baltics. #M3 Even in the beginning of the 2000s, we had that concept of being a gateway between East and West, right? And this concept was alive, and it brought certain benefits. We benefited from the transit. Our national financial sector benefited because we had very good ties with Russia. It was a good model until all this anti-Russian history started, especially after 2014. Our geography here is our advantage. But instead of being this gateway, we chose the way of being a depressive outpost of Europe, right? That's the tragedy of Latvia. #M2 Hello, everybody. This is Pascal from Neutrality Studies. And today I'm talking to Romans Sklenniks, a former journalist in Latvia, who, together with a political activist and former politician from Lithuania, is running a discussion platform opposite to the mainstream media in the Baltic states. Together, we want to talk about media and the political situation in the Baltics. So, Romans, welcome. Thanks for having me. Thanks for coming online. You actually reached out to me because you are a journalist and you're working on your own report. So there will be a second part of this talk coming out on your platform later. But I was really eager to get some insights from you about what the situation is in the Baltics. As far as I understand, you are part of the Russian-speaking minority in Latvia, and you're producing Russian-language information for the Baltic citizens, Russian-speaking Baltic citizens, because you're Latvian, a Latvian citizen who speaks Russian. There has been a lot of talk about this in our media, but I've never actually had the opportunity to talk to somebody. Could you maybe tell us, first and foremost, what is the situation at the moment for your type of minority? How are you integrated into Latvian society? What's happening to you guys? #M3 -- 1 of 13 -- Yeah, it's a long and difficult story, but I will try to make it short. It's about how anti-Russian policy and anti-Russian sentiments lead to actually pretty disastrous consequences for the so-called title nation, for Latvians. If we talk about Russians in Latvia, it's a very complicated story, as I told you. On one hand, I don't want to agree with those saying that we have something like a Nazi-style regime here. No, it's not so bad. Definitely not so bad. But on the other hand, I would say that national policy has been disgusting for all these years. And with the beginning of the war in Ukraine, it has worsened. We have the so-called integration policy. The idea was that Russians in Latvian society are being integrated. By the way, I was once mentioned as a very good example of a Russian being integrated in Latvia. I speak Latvian better than Russian. I should think twice before I answer which language is my native language. Right. I should think twice about that. When I was working on some projects in Brussels, I had meetings with some MEPs, Latvian right-wing, national-wing politicians, and they were telling me, "Romans, you are a very good example of a Russian being integrated into Latvian society." And in some sense, that was true. I was totally loyal to this country. Yes, I did disagree with some national politics arguments. I never thought that dividing the nation into citizens and non-citizens was a huge mistake, also about closing Russian schools. But still, in general, I was always totally loyal to this country. My idea was, you know, Latvia is a new country with a difficult historical background. And I thought that maybe this kind of politics was like a teenage phase, you know, and as time would pass, the country and the politicians themselves would become more mature and realize that the world is a little bit more complicated. But this coming of age never happened. Instead of growing up, things got worse, especially when the conflict in Ukraine started. At some point, the so-called integration of Russians became remaking the Russians into Latvians. Imagine in Switzerland, you would have to try to transform a French person into a German. I don't think it's a good idea, right? By saying remaking Russians into Latvians, I mean... It means you have to adopt a really simplified view of history, culture, and the world around you. So it leads to very simplistic thinking, and I should say it's a very dangerous thing because, in the end, it means you are building this national state on an anti-Russian mood basis. The main focus is not how to be pro- Latvian. The main focus is how to be anti-Russian. And I can remind you of the results of such ideas. It was the second president of Ukraine, Leonid Kuchma, and he wrote a book, "Ukraina ce ne Rosia," which means "Ukraine is not Russia." I think it's a bad idea to define your country as being anti-something instead of being pro- something. I would like to see my country, my Latvia, as an industrial power like Switzerland. Having such companies as Roche, Nestlé, or Novartis, I would like us all to think in such categories about how to develop our country. Instead of this, we have become a depressive outpost of Europe. At the end of the day, this policy leads to terrible consequences, also for the Latvian majority living in our country. What do I actually mean by saying terrible consequences, right? First of all, economic. We -- 2 of 13 -- all know that Europe is on the edge of economic collapse because of the anti-Russian sanctions, right? Well, in the case of the Baltic states, it's twice as bad, especially in Latvia, where our economy was pretty much dependent on transit. In good times, it made up something around 20%—a fifth of our GDP. Now it's gone. Some economists say that our rail company used to be one of the biggest taxpayers here in Latvia. Now some economists say that we should demolish our rails; we don't need them anymore. So imagine that. We all know the energy prices right now. Just think about what kind of development we can expect here, what kind of competitiveness we can talk about if we have energy prices here higher than in neighboring Finland or Sweden, right? Yes. So it's another question for our politics: how can it be that we have, as said, the common energy market called Nord Pool, but the so-called spot price on the energy is much higher—10 times higher than in Finland, for example, right? It's another question. #M2 And just recently, we've heard that the Baltics actually announced very proudly that they are now completely decoupled from Russian electricity. There's no more Russian electricity flowing, and that was a proud moment. But isn't that going to make electricity even more expensive now for you guys? Well, #M3 Anyway, even if we bought the energy from Russia, we bought it at the market price, which was dictated by the so-called Nord Pool energy market. But the interesting question here is, as I said, that at the same time we have this common market, and we are part of the same market as Finland, right? But Finland has so-called spot prices of energy, sometimes 10 times cheaper than we have here in Latvia. Actually, the situation in Latvia is not as bad as it is in Lithuania. Lithuania had its own nuclear plant, right? But they closed it when they joined the EU. It's another story, a long story. The EU promised that it would build a new one, but 16 or so years have passed, and still, we don't see any activity on that. Lithuania is buying something like 80% of its energy abroad. So yeah, they have a huge deficit of energy. And on the other hand, just around the corner, you have Belarus; they just built a new nuclear plant with cheap energy, but we're disconnecting from this network, right? So up until the weather conditions are good, we produce enough energy here. But the big question is, when it comes to a dry summer or a really cold winter, what will we do then? We had an example in 2021 when there was a drought summer in Sweden. So that was the energy crisis. And Sweden can say, "Guys, we need our energy here, so we don't want to sell you anymore." What will we do then? I don't know. #M2 -- 3 of 13 -- So, in general, the situation is that the Baltic states are now voluntarily decoupling from Russia to a large extent, and also from Belarus and these neighboring states, which is inherently a risk factor because you decrease the options of getting energy and economic interconnectivity. But on the other hand, isn't it even worse? What's the rhetoric in the Baltic states about Russia? Because the most hawkish tones I've heard from Europeans often come either from Baltic politicians or from Polish politicians. This memory in the Baltics is, of course, very special because you were part of the Soviet Union, not just like Poland, a satellite state, a dependent separate country, but politically dependent. You were part of the Soviet Union. What did this legacy do to the mindset of many Latvians, whether they are Latvians—what should we call them? Born Latvian speakers or Russian speakers who immigrated during Soviet times into Latvia. Can you disentangle that a little bit? #M3 Yes. You know, I would call it, it's not only about the economy. I would call it a crisis, also some kind of crisis of identity. In Russian, I call it a crisis, which means the crisis of black-and-white thinking, very simplistic thinking. The idea of being an anti-Russia outpost has damaged not only the economy but the way we see the world, the way we look at our history. It leads to this very simplistic thinking. All the time, they're trying to sell us the idea that Russia has always been the aggressor, you know, only dreaming about how to enslave our poor Baltic nations. Actually, the first question here is why not be afraid of Germans, right, in the case of the Baltic states. Anyway, it's a cognitive catastrophe, you could say it like that. Ironically, we forget that the very idea, if we look at history, of sovereign small nations in the western part of the Russian Empire comes from Russian intellectuals. It was in the middle of the 19th century when none of the Latvians were dreaming of a national state. Russian thinker Mikhail Bakunin proposed this idea of some small sovereign states to the west of the Russian Empire. In the end, all Latvian intellectuals who later promoted the idea of a national state got their education in the universities of Russia, such as St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Tartu. They received their education at a time when you could see signs in the parks of Riga, which were owned by Germans at that time, by German landlords, stating that entrance was prohibited for dogs and Latvians, right? #M2 A lot of people forget that the Baltics are just right next to the former Prussia, right? #M3 Right, right, right. And look at what we have now. We have this war against the Soviet heritage right now. It all started with the demolition of the monument to the Red Army soldiers in Riga. To be honest, it's something I also won't forget. The uncle of my mom was killed back in 1945 in this war, right? I have his small portrait still on the bookshelf at my home and a small book of Pasternak, the -- 4 of 13 -- Russian poet, right? It's all that's left from him. But this deconstruction of memory has gone way too far. Now we have something like, I would call it, McCarthyism against Latvian culture, righ