At the launch of her memoirs, former German Chancellor Angela Merkel explained that one reason for keeping Ukraine outside NATO was the perceived success of Finland: a non-aligned Nordic country that neighbored Russia, but had a prosperous economy and a well-functioning society.
The reasoning, shared by many policymakers beyond Merkel, was straightforward. If Finland could prosper as a non-aligned neighbor of Russia, why couldn’t Ukraine do the same? By serving as a “bridge” between Russia and NATO, Kyiv might benefit from its position as an economic, political, and cultural gateway linking the European Union (EU) and the then-emerging, Russian-run Eurasian Union.
The events of 2022 demonstrated that Finland’s policy of non-alignment was less sustainable than many had assumed. Following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Helsinki moved rapidly toward NATO membership. Thanks to its strong military capabilities and the political commitment of the Biden administration, the accession process proceeded relatively smoothly despite the war raging just across the border. Since then, Finland has proven itself a valuable ally.
Viewed over the longer term, however, the legacy of Finnish-Russian relations is far more complicated.
After World War II, Finland was forced into the Soviet sphere of influence, but avoided both communist rule and full membership in the Warsaw Pact. Instead, it developed a distinctive survival strategy. While preserving its independence, Finland embraced peaceful coexistence as the foundation of its foreign policy.
This involved more than ritual declarations of friendship and cooperation. It produced extensive economic interdependence driven by political considerations, widespread penetration of political parties, the civil service, and the media by Soviet intelligence services, and significant constraints on military capabilities.
The policy — and the broader process of expanding Soviet influence within a neighboring non-socialist state — eventually became known as Finlandization. Across Europe, debates about this complex and multifaceted phenomenon frequently surfaced in discussions of détente, arms-control initiatives, and transatlantic relations. Finland could be seen both as a successful example of a non-aligned country preserving its sovereignty and as a society shaped by self-censorship, KGB influence, and what Bernard-Henri Lévy described as “a people’s democracy of the mind.” In Soviet strategic thinking, Cold War-era Finland served as a model for Western Europe.
Following the collapse of the Soviet Union and Finland’s 1995 accession to the EU, former assets and contacts of Eastern Bloc intelligence services found their way into EU structures. This reflected both the natural adaptation of national elites to a new geopolitical reality and the implementation of Russian intelligence strategies that later came to light, including the use of Finnish assets to influence EU policymaking. Finns, working alongside former Stasi operatives and German industrial lobbyists, helped facilitate Russian influence within the EU long before Cyprus and Malta brought oligarchs holding “golden passports” into the Schengen Area.
Those who warned about these developments were often dismissed, marginalized, or attacked. In 1995, Felix Karasev — allegedly Vladimir Putin’s most important mentor during his KGB career — intervened in the activities of the Finnish Security Intelligence Service through an old contact in the Finnish President’s Office. The path was then cleared for Russian oligarchs to obtain Finnish citizenship and for projects such as Nord Stream to advance. A precursor to the latter was initiated in 1997 by the Finnish state-owned company Neste and Russia’s Gazprom.
As Merkel’s comments illustrate, the special relationship between Moscow and Helsinki was not rendered irrelevant after the Soviet collapse. Instead, it evolved and converged with what later became known as Schröderization.
In my book Jälkisuomettumisen ruumiinavaus, originally published in 2023, I argued that the legacy of Finlandization shaped the country’s political culture, security institutions, and relationship with Russia long after the end of the Cold War. Many of its principal conclusions were subsequently reinforced by a report from the Finnish Institute of International Affairs (FIIA) examining Russian influence activities in Finland during the 2000s.
The report’s lead author, Sinikukka Saari, encouraged think tanks and research institutes in other countries to conduct similar studies, emphasizing that hybrid threats are shaped by local traditions, institutional cultures, strengths, and vulnerabilities. Her observation points to a broader lesson: while Russian influence operations follow certain recurring patterns, they also adapt to national circumstances and historical legacies.
A useful comparison can be found in Germany. Alongside the newly released English edition of my 2023 book, Autopsy of Post-Finlandization: The Roots of European Appeasement of Russia, Georg Mascolo and Katja Gloger’s Das Versagen provides a detailed account of Russian influence within European — in this case, German — political and business elites. Together, these works illustrate how Moscow exploited Europe’s different historical and institutional environments to pursue many of the same strategic objectives.
If Europe is genuinely considering renewed dialogue with the Kremlin, the path ahead is full of pitfalls, some more visible than others. The same is true of plans to turn the EU into a genuine hard power and a more fertile territory for defense, technology, and intelligence efforts.
In both cases, there is no excuse for failing to learn from the past. Appeasement takes many forms, and Russia has repeatedly demonstrated a remarkable ability to adapt, often cloaking hostile influence operations in the language of peace, free trade, multilateralism, and liberal integration. Europe’s ability to look beyond these slogans, resist short-term business interests, and rigorously scrutinize Russian networks of influence may determine whether the mistakes of the past are repeated or avoided.
Pekka Virkki is a Helsinki-based journalist and bestselling author (The Autopsy of Post-Finlandization, 2023) specializing in the Baltic Sea region and security. He holds an MA in Social Sciences (International Relations and Regional Studies, University of Tartu) and is finalizing an MSSc (European and Nordic Studies) at the University of Helsinki.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
