Latvian journalist Ilze Kuzmina investigated people’s attitudes in three border cities of the Baltic states with a significant Russian population—Daugavpils, Narva, and Visaginas. Today, Propastop is publishing Kuzmina’s report on the Lithuanian city of Visaginas, which was built for the workers of the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant, which was shut down in 2009.
Last year, Propastop published Kuzmina’s report on Daugavpils, and she also provided Latvian readers with a detailed introduction to life in Narva.
Visaginas is the only city in Lithuania where the majority of people speak Russian as their native language. This is because the city was founded in 1975 for the workers of the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant, most of whom were brought to Lithuania from other parts of the Soviet Union. Lithuania’s youngest city was called Sniečkus from its founding until 1992.
Do you know who Antanas Sniečkus was? Sniečkus (1903–1974) became the leader of the Lithuanian Communist Party in 1940, immediately after the start of the Soviet occupation, and remained in office until his death. Among other things, he was responsible for the deportation of tens of thousands of his compatriots in 1941 and 1949.
Photo: Wikipedia.
“Although the city’s name was changed to Visaginas as early as 1992, many residents still say they live in Sniečkus and consider the man a hero!” complains Alexey Urazov, who founded a youth art center in his hometown.
The admiration for Sniečkus shows that some residents of Visaginas also live within Russia’s information space. In the Russian information space, Sniečkus is still portrayed in a positive light as the leader who ‘lifted up’ an impoverished Lithuania.
Lithuania’s youngest city stands out
Unlike in Estonia and Latvia, Lithuania granted citizenship to all migrants after regaining independence, allowing them to participate in elections. In the presidential elections held last May, Eduardas Vaitkus, who supports Lithuania’s withdrawal from NATO and does not consider Russia a threat to Lithuania’s independence, received the most votes in Visaginas—37.8%. Nationwide, however, Vaitkus gathered only 7% of the votes and did not advance to the second round of the elections.
Svetlana Babujeva, a member of the Visaginas City Council (representing the Farmers and Greens Union, which holds eight seats in Lithuania’s 141-member parliament), attributes her fellow residents’ choice to poor economic conditions, which fuel protest sentiment. “The recent election results do not mean that our people support Putin and his war against Ukraine or that they wish to move to Russia,” Babujeva emphasizes.
As in Narva, the sharp rise in electricity and heating prices has frustrated Visaginas residents, who were used to low utility costs. However, with government support, a wood processing industry has been established in the city, providing decent wages for 700 people. And although the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant has long been shut down, it remains a major employer, with 500 people working on dismantling the plant and safely storing its waste.
According to Viktors Denisenko, an associate professor at Vilnius University’s Faculty of Communication, the number of people in Lithuania who support Kremlin policies is roughly the same as the percentage of votes Vaitkus received in the presidential election.
You can’t get by without knowing Lithuanian. Or can you?
When the Lithuanian state offered free language courses in Visaginas after regaining independence, there were few interested participants. “People thought that knowing Lithuanian wasn’t necessary,” says tourism information worker Tatjana Dmitrieva. “Now that Lithuanian language courses are only available for a fee, many regret that decision.”
The primary working language of the Visaginas City Council is Lithuanian, but translators assist local politicians who have limited proficiency in the state language when needed.
Photo: Wikipedia.
During the Soviet era, there was no need to know Lithuanian to live in Visaginas. Now, however, residents must use the state language when visiting a doctor or a bank in Vilnius. “Russian schools have seven Lithuanian language lessons per week! It’s impossible not to learn the language,” says Dmitrieva.
Visaginas has three Russian and two Lithuanian schools, and many Russian children attend both Lithuanian-language schools and kindergartens. From the fifth grade onward, all textbooks are only in Lithuanian, and final exams are taken solely in Lithuanian, as the entire higher education system in Lithuania operates in the state language.
A teenage girl named Julia, who studies at a Lithuanian school, complains to the journalist that teachers do not allow Russian-speaking students to communicate in their native language during breaks. However, outside of school, Julia mostly speaks Russian with other residents, as nearly everyone in Visaginas speaks Russian.
Urazov, who works daily with young people at an art center, believes that Lithuanian teachers must be trained to interact appropriately with Russian-speaking students; otherwise, they risk raising another generation of Russian youth who resent Lithuania. According to him, language learning in Visaginas—just like in Narva and Sillamäe—is hindered by the lack of opportunities to practice it. “Young people would speak Lithuanian better if there were more people here to speak Lithuanian with,” acknowledges Urazov.
Life in an Information Space Different from the Rest of Lithuania
According to Vytautas Bakas, a member of the Seimas elected from the constituency that includes Visaginas, the city exists in an information space different from the rest of Lithuania. This is evidenced by the fact that after Russian TV channels were banned in Lithuania following the start of the full-scale war, advertisements offering access to Kremlin channels appeared in Visaginas in large numbers.
Deputy Mayor Vitaly Besakirsky argues that Visaginas residents’ openness to Russian propaganda highlights the weakness of Lithuania’s own Russian-language journalism. The city’s local media outlet is the Russian-language TTS.lt, which has an online edition, a YouTube channel, and a weekly print newspaper. While TTS.lt primarily covers local news and promotes city officials, its YouTube channel supports pro-Russian politicians and criticizes the United States.
Source: Screenshot.
“Most people are against the war and support Ukraine anyway,” says Dmitrieva. “The biggest fear people have is that the war might reach here as well. In any case, I don’t know a single person who would hope for ‘their’ arrival and our ‘liberation.'”
According to Viktors Denisenko, an associate professor at Vilnius University, the influence of Kremlin propaganda in Lithuania as a whole has decreased, primarily due to the ban on Russian TV channels and the blocking of many online outlets. However, the use of satellite dishes remains widespread in Lithuania, especially in rural areas, and access to banned and blocked channels is still relatively easy in practice.
“There is no collected data on how many Lithuanians watch Russian channels. Probably very few, since Russian TV channels have never been particularly popular in Lithuania—mainly because non-Lithuanians make up only 14 percent of the population,” Denisenko assumes.
The Russian World on the Border of Belarus
At least to some extent, the Russian world is still present in Visaginas, and not only among the elderly. Young people listen to Russian music, play video games in Russian, and online algorithms feed them pro-Russian memes. They are not interested in Russian-language television programs produced in Lithuania.
The young people who gather at the Visaginas art center know the entertainment stars of the neighboring country but are uninterested in either Russian or Lithuanian politics. “Most young people support Ukraine,” says Urazov, whose center is simply not visited by the children of vatniks (pro-Russian nationalists). “Officially, supporting aggression against Ukraine is prohibited in Lithuania. That’s why no one openly admits to being on Russia’s side. Instead, people with such views tend to say that ‘the war is not so clear-cut.’”
Since Visaginas is only 25 kilometers from the Belarusian border, the influence of dictator Alyaksandr Lukashenka is also noticeable. “Visaginas residents still travel to Belarus,” notes Dmitrieva. “In my opinion, mainly because prices are cheaper there.”
According to statistics, the nearest border crossing point for Visaginas residents, located in Silene, Latvia, is mainly used by Latvians for crossing the border, while Lithuanians make up only 5-10 percent of the total crossings.
Jevgenijs Shuklins, born in Russia, achieved great success as a canoeist while living and training in Visaginas. In the 2012 London Olympics, he even won a silver medal, but in 2019, it was revoked after a retrospective doping test came back positive.
For ten years, Shuklins was a member of the Visaginas City Council, and last year, he was elected to the Lithuanian Parliament. In addition to his political activities, he recently joined the Lithuanian Riflemen’s Union (Lietuvos šaulių sąjunga), a national defense organization.
“I joined the union in the hope that this would help protect Lithuania from war,” says Šuklins, who claims that there are more people in Visaginas willing to participate in national defense than the Riflemen’s Union can accept and train. “Almost all of my relatives, friends, and acquaintances supported my decision. I also received a few angry comments warning me that I would have to fight against Russia. But I believe those comments were made out of ignorance about the union’s actual goals.”
Visaginas Resident, Lithuanian, or European?
When the journalist asked ten young people at the Visaginas art center who among them considers themselves Lithuanian, only two raised their hands. According to the center’s director, Urazov, most identify primarily as residents of Visaginas rather than Lithuanians, Russians, or any other nationality.
“It is even popular to consider oneself European. In my opinion, this attitude is common among those who do not want to fully participate in Lithuanian society,” Urazov adds.
Photo: Ilze Kuzmina
When talking to Visaginas residents, one often hears phrases like “when I was in Lithuania” or “they came here from Lithuania.” This indicates that many locals do not fully identify with Lithuania and struggle to define their identity.
Dmitrieva explains this phenomenon by pointing out that Visaginas is located in a remote area, and few people from other Lithuanian regions visit the city. There is also an unfounded fear of high radiation levels. Originally from Belarus, Dmitrieva considers herself and her children Lithuanian. “If you live in this country, you must consider it your own,” she explains.
