Russia will use nuclear weapons if NATO attempts to blockade Kaliningrad. This blunt warning came from the Kremlin last week. In reality, it’s an empty threat amidst an imagined danger. Russia’s nuclear bluff has been worn out from overuse, and NATO does not plan to blockade anyone.
But these emotional outbursts do signal something important: Russia’s sensitive attitude towards Kaliningrad. The northern half of the former German territory of East Prussia is the last significant trophy from the Soviet victory over Hitler in 1945. Like most trophies, it’s not as impressive up close. Kaliningrad is an artificial creation: from its very name (named after war criminal Mikhail Kalinin) to its population (relocated after ethnic cleansings) and its southern border (a crude straight line, similar to those drawn by European colonists in Africa).
Now Moscow’s control over this exclave — a Russian island wedged between Poland and Lithuania — is becoming increasingly weak. Not because someone can cut off the already unreliable air, sea, and land supply routes, but due to the entirely real, corrupt, authoritarian, and incompetent system of Russian governance. Due to this weakness in the Russian system, amidst the costs of the catastrophic war in Ukraine, maintaining Kaliningrad is becoming unsustainable: economically, socially, demographically, and politically.
External commentators mostly disregard this, portraying Kaliningrad as a stronghold for Russia’s threats against its neighbors. In reality, it’s the opposite — it’s Russia’s most strategically vulnerable territory: its “Achilles’ heel.”
My new “think tank” — the Baltic International Security Center (BISC) — has launched an extensive research project “Kaliningrad 2050.” The very name raises the question: do you really believe Kaliningrad will still be under Moscow’s control by the middle of the century? This seems increasingly unlikely.
This week, BISC will gather 20 experts to conduct crisis simulations to explore how the regime in the Kremlin might collapse, and how neighboring countries could, would, and should respond. The reasons are currently hypothetical. But an environmental disaster, a fuel supply disruption, or a health emergency similar to the one now flaring up in Siberia, are all quite realistic prospects given Russia’s current precarious state. Authorities will have to respond to the influx of refugees, environmental pollution, and humanitarian needs that will arise as a result.
We do not know what the consequences will be: as with military wargames, the goal of these projections is to test how different scenarios unfold. We hope the findings will be useful for those facing such dilemmas in real life.
The next stage will be the book “Fragile Fortress,” which will be published this year. Edited by British Russia expert Christopher Peters and featuring contributions from local and foreign specialists, it will examine topics such as memory politics, economic weaknesses, internal repression, and public opinion. The main message: Kaliningrad survives only thanks to Moscow’s economic subsidies and political support.
No more relevant actions could be found. While the Kremlin talks about the threat from NATO, social media is awash with panic about alleged Russian plans for an invasion from Kaliningrad: maps with bold red arrows along the Suwalki Corridor connecting Poland and Lithuania are being circulated. As shown in the military section of “Fragile Fortress,” under current (or likely) conditions, this is impossible. In Kaliningrad, there are almost no Russian ground forces left; all have been sent to Ukraine. The Russian air force there also lacks fortified airstrips and hangars necessary for real warfare. NATO, especially following Sweden and Finland joining the alliance, has the advantage on land, sea, and in the air: as highlighted by recent intelligence exercises in the region.
So the loud nuclear statements make no sense. No one threatens Kaliningrad. The question is only when the Kremlin will lose it.
