Category: Estonia

The KGB Prison Cells are located at Pagari 1 in Tallinn in a structure that was constructed in 1912 as an apartment building. It was briefly used by the Estonian Provincial Government in 1918 and then by the Estonian Ministry of War between 1920 and 1940. Following the Soviet occupation of Tallinn, the building was taken over by the NKVD (People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs), which later became the KGB and they built the cells in 1941. It was opened as a museum in 2017 to remind visitors what totalitarian regimes were like and the cells used up until the late 1950s were made accessible.

We got free admission with our Tallinn Cards, but to visit individually it would be €9 which felt very excessive to me given that it’s effectively one corridor with some cells.

Susanna reading everything. There are some museums and galleries in the world where she has got there first thing in the morning and then had to leave at the end of the day as they’re closing. We use Bev to try and keep her under some control as otherwise Susanna rarely seems overwhelmed by the number of exhibits or the amount that there is to read.

That’s the reverse of a staircase and was used as a very tight cell. I’m slightly sceptical just how many times that this might have been used.

This old plan of the floor shows where the above cell is located. The only area open to the public is the corridor on the right hand side and the six cells.

It’s noted that chairs such as this were used for the interrogation of prisoners, although I’m not sure that this particular one actually comes from this building. There is though an interesting document written in 1977, which has been translated into English, which is on display as is a guide for prisoners on how they should behave during interrogation and questioning. It’s a ‘Samizdat’ document, which is means self-published and relates to documents that were copied and handed around to dissidents and members of the resistance movement.

The cells wouldn’t have been pleasant and those who found there way here would have nearly always ended up in a larger prison or would have been executed.

A cupboard. The museum claims that cupboards such as these would have been used from the 1940s until the 1980s to temporarily isolate individual prisoners, although that wouldn’t have happened here for that length of time. I’m not sure that the museum has much detail about this particular structure, although they say that it does come from the property. The cells were mostly cleared out in the 1950s, so there’s been a lot of imagination required here.

As with all these things, they’re useful reminders of the repression that took place in Tallinn during the Soviet occupation between 1945 and the late 1980s. However, the prison cells stopped being used by the KGB in the 1950s and although the museum notes that were “the most notorious cells in Estonia”, they weren’t much used as they were turned into a space for archives in the late 1950s. A visit here isn’t likely to take more than around twenty minutes, but it’s worth popping in for holders of the Tallinn Card and I’m glad that these have been preserved for future generations. It is though difficult to leave a museum such as this with feeling a slightly heavy heart for the dark side of history that feels so nearby so often.

I’ve already written about Jaan Poska (1866-1920), one of the architects of Estonian independence, but there are numerous representations of him around Estonia. This one was unveiled in 2016 in Kadriorg Park to commemorate the 150th anniversary of his birth and was designed by the sculptor Elo Liiv. Anyway, I mention this as the designers wanted him to be at street level as one of the people instead of on top of a pedestal removed from the people.

Located just after the Bastion Tunnels is the Carved Stone Museum, all of which is located within the Kiek in de Kök tower fortifications complex museum. There are over 200 carved stone fragments from around Tallinn and they date from between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries.

I rather get the impression that they didn’t know where to put this collection and here seemed as good as place as any. It’s one of those collections which museums need to keep, but are unlikely to attract enough tourists in their own right, so this seems like the perfect compromise.

It’s an interesting little arrangement.

There are short summaries about many of the pieces of stone, although not a great deal is known about a lot of them.

There were a few gravestones in the mix.

The stone background of the walls felt appropriate.

Some stalactites had started to form, it all added to the atmosphere somewhat.

Lots more stone and they’ve done a decent job here given that some of this was usually partly underwater about 25 years ago before they started the repairs. There are four different rooms, ‘Garden of Eden’, ‘Pillar Hall’, ‘Death Hall’ and ‘Sun Hall’ and if I have to pick a favourite (and who doesn’t when visiting a carved stone museum?) it would be the room with the pillars in it. Another exciting surprise was finding where the tunnels came out, it was much further away from the museum than we had anticipated.

Built in the 17th and 18th centuries, the tunnels were an integral part of Tallinn’s formidable defence system. As cannons and firearms became increasingly powerful, traditional medieval walls were no longer sufficient protection so they went underground. The Bastion Tunnels snaked through the city’s earthen fortifications, connecting various bastions and allowing soldiers to move undetected, transport ammunition, and even launch surprise attacks. Since then, they have been used in numerous different ways throughout the generations.

The warning about not slipping.

But I was more worried about the sign warning of no wi-fi or mobile signal. It sounded a very dangerous place that I wouldn’t be spending much time in.

Ross, Steve and I trekked down the stairs and wondered where Bev and Susanna were. It transpired that they were still visiting the museum as we’d missed a bit out, but my loyal blog readers needn’t worry as we returned to the museum that afternoon to ensure we didn’t go without seeing what the young ladies had.

It looked rather exciting. Signage explained that the tunnels had been extensively renovated between 2004 and 2007 as they had filled with junk and parts had flooded. They removed 800 cubic metres of stones and dirt whilst installing new ventilation and fire safety systems.

The tunnels were used unofficially for a while by partying punks and there were even small-scale concerts that were held down here.

And also by the homeless. It couldn’t have been very pleasant, but at least it would have offered some shelter. There are numerous sightings of ghosts down here, although I suspect the naturally eerie surroundings of the whole arrangements somewhat add to that. They must have a fair number of rodents floating about the place though, and for a while the tunnels were used by a family of foxes who must have used some initiative to get in.

The tunnels provided potential refuge for any nuclear war which might have broken out, something which didn’t look unlikely in the 1960s. A whole new set of air ventilation had to be put in at this stage just in case residents would have been forced to live down here for some time.

Some Soviet leaders to remind visitors about the constant threat of war.

The text on the banner says “AU TÖÖLE!” in Estonian, which translates to “HONOUR TO WORK!” or “GLORY TO LABOUR!” in English. This phrase reflects Soviet-era propaganda themes emphasising the value of labour and work to support society, or, more precisely perhaps, to support the wealthy elites.

I thought initially that this was a ghost, but it was Ross.

The tunnels were used to protect locals from the air raids of the Second World War.

This is Metropolitan Arseni, an important religious figure in Estonian Orthodox history. He opposed many of the reforms made by Catherine the Great and he was punished by being held in the tunnels as a prisoner until his death in 1772. There are some rumours that he was walled up, but these seem fanciful and he was just imprisoned in a more traditional manner.

It’s a fascinating piece of history and I’m pleased that they’ve made such efforts to drain and repair the tunnels to make them accessible. There is more than in the above photos as the next stage of the tunnels goes to the carved stones museum, more of those in a later post.

I think I’ve posted enough about the Soviet Statue Graveyard, but this is the introduction panel and I rather like the power of their line that “freedom may be fleeting”. Tyrant power can crumble and even the most imposing figures can find themselves toppled.

Unlike my last post of a Lenin statue that didn’t go on display, here’s one that did. It was unveiled on 4 November 1981 in Pärnu and is a copy of Matti Varik’s monument that was in Kotka City in Finland, designed to make him look thoughtful and statesmanlike although it’s more a look of an unwanted houseguest now. It was only removed relatively recently because the Finnish no longer wanted anything to do with Russian oppression and there are now no Lenin statues left in Finland on public display. Even when the Finnish statue was standing, it wasn’t revered and was treated as something of a figure of fun. This monument was on display at Rüütli plats in Pärnu until it was removed on 20 September 1990. It was plonked into storage by the Pärnu Government until it was transferred to this museum in 2016. As these things go, I thought that this was one of the better designed sculptures and at least it’s obvious who it is and doesn’t make him look too much like a gnome.

Well this was a bloody waste of money, but for reasons unknown the communist authorities were still merrily ordering statues of Lenin in the late 1980s. This one was designed by Matti Varik between 1987 and 1988, ready to put somewhere prominent in Tallinn. Unfortunately for all concerned, by the time they had got around to thinking about where to put it, Estonia broke free of Soviet oppression and went independent. At that point, it was evident that a statue of Lenin wasn’t going to go down well in Tallinn, although in reality it’s not clear if anyone really wanted it before independence. It was stored in the monumental sculpture studio of the artists’ union ARS for some years and then it came to this museum in 2008. Part of the reason that I really engaged with this collection of statues and memorials is that I liked understanding their previous placement and relevance to their surroundings, but this one is quite different. Although I still like the story that it tells, the naivety of the authorities that they thought that this was ever a good idea.

Mikhail Kalinin (1875-1946) was a prominent figure in Soviet history, known for his long tenure as head of state, first of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic and then of the Soviet Union, from 1919 to 1946. He was often referred to as the ‘All-Union Elder’ due to his peasant background and his perceived role as a grandfatherly figure for the nation. Born into a peasant family, Kalinin’s early life was marked by hard work and a desire for education. He became involved in revolutionary activities as a young man, joining the Bolshevik faction of the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party.

Kalinin played an active role in the Russian Revolution of 1917, and after the Bolsheviks seized power, he rose through the ranks of the Soviet government. His appointment as head of state was partly due to his peasant origins, which the regime used to portray itself as representing the interests of the common people. However, despite his high position, Kalinin’s actual power was limited, especially after Joseph Stalin consolidated his control over the Soviet Union. Kalinin’s role was largely ceremonial, and he often acted as a spokesperson for the regime, travelling throughout the country and meeting with ordinary citizens, a bit like John Prescott with Tony Blair. Effectively, he was just a puppet, unable to do anything and even unable to save his wife from political repression.

After his death, the Estonian authorities wanted a statue as they obviously didn’t have enough statues of other people dotted around everywhere. They held a competition and then rejected all of the results, instead going with a design by Aleksander Kaasik. In 1950, they plonked the granite and bronze arrangement down at what was then Stalingrad Square, but is now Towers’ Square. The museum notes that when Estonia voted for independence some workers at the Kalinin Factory, which was initially constructed as a railway works, took the statue into protection for fear that the city authorities might remove it. Anyway, this plan worked marvellously until the guards had a lunch break and the authorities took it on 3 May 1991. At some stage the hand has been lost, likely to bronze thieves. Not much exists in Estonia now with his name on it, although for the moment at least his name lives on in Königsberg, known by the Russians as Kaliningrad and one of the few cities to have kept the name of a leading communist.

The timeline of this sculpture is different to the ones that I’ve wittered on about so far on this blog. It’s a statue of Joseph Stalin (1878-1953) and it was unveiled in Tallinn on 20 July 1950 in a green area opposite the Baltic Station. The bronze statue was designed by Nikolai Tomski and used metal that had been melted down from a statue of Martin Luther. When Stalin died the Soviet authorities thought that they might rethink things somewhat and so the statue was removed and put into long-term storage at the Department of Roadbuildings and Repairs, barely lasting ten years. It was nearly sold for scrap metal, but following Estonia’s independence it was brought to the museum.

There’s no nuance needed here really when writing about Joseph Stalin. Google AI puts it as succinctly as I could….. “Joseph Stalin is widely regarded as one of history’s most brutal and tyrannical dictators. His actions caused immense suffering and death, and his legacy is overwhelmingly negative.” It’s thought that there might have been tens of thousands of statues of Stalin in the Soviet Union in the 1950s and a few of them are still standing, mainly in Georgia and remote areas still heavily under communist influence.

This memorial commemorates the life of Lembit Pärn (1903-1974) and it’s unusual in this little series of posts to have someone that actually wasn’t executed by the Soviets and then forgiven a couple of decades later. Pärn was born in Suure-Kõpu Parish in Estonia and he began his military career in the Estonian Army in 1926. He furthered his training at the Military Academy in Tallinn and held various officer positions. When the Second World War erupted and the Soviet Union occupied Estonia, Pärn was drafted into the Red Army. He rather liked this arrangement and he steadily climbed the ranks and was ultimately appointed commander of the 8th Estonian Rifle Corps in 1942. This corps, largely made up of Estonian conscripts, participated in crucial battles on the Eastern Front, including the Battle of Narva.

At the end of the Second World War (and above is a photo of him in Tallinn on 16 June 1945) Pärn remained in the Soviet Army, holding several high-ranking positions, such as serving as the Estonian SSR’s People’s Commissar of Defence in 1945. He was also instrumental in establishing Estonian military units within the Soviet military structure and trying to resist any attempts of the country becoming independent.

This bronze and granite memorial was unveiled on 5 May 1985 in Tallinn, designed by Arseni Mölder, and it lingered for longer than many others in this museum collection as it was only removed on 29 May 2001 on the orders of the Tallinn City Government. He was probably a brilliant military commander (and he did well not to be executed in the Great Purge) and is buried in Novodevichy Cemetery, the same location that Boris Yeltsin was interred.