Bornholm: the island Denmark (almost) forgot to liberate

As the Danes celebrated the country's liberation from Nazi Germany after 4 May 1945, they forgot one crucial thing – Bornholm. On this island, located 150 kilometres from the rest of Denmark, south of the Swedish coast in the Baltic Sea, the German commander Gerhard von Kamptz and his approximately 12,000 soldiers refused to surrender to the Soviet forces.

They were following orders to hold out and assist the growing number of German soldiers and refugees fleeing the advancing Soviets, and only to surrender to the Western Allies. However, those allies never came as they were busy liberating France and other parts of Western Europe.

Who had not forgotten Bornholm? The Soviets. On 7 May, the islanders woke to the sound of bombs and warplanes with red stars in the sky. The Red Army had come to "liberate" them with two days of air raids that destroyed over 800 homes and killed 10 civilians.

When Germany finally left the island on 9 May, the Soviet troops landed and simply stayed. The island’s location could be used as a negotiation piece. What started as 100 Russian soldiers quickly rose to 8,000-9,000. Already worn down by Nazi rule, Bornholm now faced a new occupation – a similar scenario to other Soviet "liberated" territories at the time.

According to reports, the Soviet soldiers engaged in looting, heavy drinking, and sexual assaults while on the island – much of what we hear about the Russian activities in the war against Ukraine today. It was not until the following year that the Danish government began negotiations with the Soviets on their departure, and as of April 5, 1946, the last troops left.

Loopholes at 9,000 metres

Olivier Reinoud

Airline emissions in Europe are almost back to pre-Covid-19 highs, with 8.4 million flights in 2024 producing nearly 188 million tonnes of CO₂. Airlines are supposed to pay under the EU's Emissions Trading System (ETS) because aviation generates carbon dioxide (CO₂) emissions, which, in turn, contribute to climate change. 

The ETS is the EU’s key tool for reducing greenhouse gas emissions cost-effectively by putting a price on carbon. However, under current ETS rules, airlines only paid for around 30% of their total emissions, which amounted to approximately €3 billion.

Why? Because the EU's carbon market ignores most long-haul flights, which constitute the biggest offenders, for example, Frankfurt to Shanghai. Airlines only pay for emissions that are made in the European Economic Area. This set-up led to €7.5 billion in lost revenue in 2024.

A review of the ETS is planned for 2026, but it is unclear whether it will actually lead to reform. Even though airline pollution forms a relatively small percentage of global CO₂ emissions, around 2%, reducing them is still necessary if the EU wants to reach its climate goals. That's mainly because aviation is less likely to decarbonise than other sectors, which will raise its total share of emissions. 

Left hanging for the Russian money

In the usual clash of past and present, it's the people who end up caught in the middle. That's the case right now in Estonia, where since February nearly 4,000 people who built their lives under the Soviet system have stopped receiving the Russian pensions they were promised – by Russia.

Many of these people are elderly Russian speakers – a combination of citizens of Russia, and Estonia's stateless residents. Only seven World War II veterans collectively received a symbolic €7,000 payout in April. For the rest, the payments simply stopped – without a note or comment from Moscow.

These pensions are governed and guaranteed by a 2011 bilateral agreement between Estonia and Russia. This should ensure that people who earned their pensions under the Soviet or Russian systems would continue receiving them regardless of where they live.

The required quarterly transfers from the Russian pension fund have not been made for a while. Estonia, which cannot legally pay out pensions earned under a foreign system, continues to uphold its side of the bargain: around 5,400 people in Russia – mostly former Estonia's residents – continue to receive Estonian pensions without interruption.

Russia's payments have been stopped or reduced in all three Baltic states, as Lithuania and Latvia have similar agreements with Russia. In Latvia, Russian pensioners usually receive around €250,000 each quarter – but this spring only €21,000 arrived, causing restless tossing and turning among the ones left waiting.

Most of those affected in Estonia have some local pension income, averaging around €600 per month. But for more than 200 individuals, the Russian portion – ranging from €15 to €2,800 – is their only income. The abrupt cutoff has pushed some to the edge, threatening their ability to pay for rent, medication, and daily essentials.

Defend like a hedgehog

On Monday, 16,000 Estonian and allied troops began the country's largest military drill to date. Despite its large scale, the operation carries the rather humble name: Exercise Hedgehog 25.

"Siil" (Estonian for hedgehog) has been the name of Estonia’s main defence exercise since 2008. It was picked for being short, memorable, and rich in meaning. Like the animal, Estonia is small but sharp, built for strong, agile defence. The hedgehog’s instinct to curl up and expose its quills mirrors Estonia’s readiness to respond swiftly and collectively to threats.

The exercise’s slogan, 'Every quill matters' (Iga okas loeb), embodies Estonia’s total defence philosophy, where everyone, from citizens to institutions, has a role in national security.

Coming together to clean-up

Nikola Veisberga

Every spring, Latvians all over the country come together for a day of the Lielā Talka – the nation-wide clean-up campaign. This year, more than 100,000 volunteers (remarkable in a country of just under 1.9 million) took part in it, collecting over 50 tonnes of trash, including an unexploded aerial bomb discovered in a lake.

The tradition of Lielā Talka began in 2008, when the Baltic states launched a joint project to celebrate the 90th anniversary of their independence. In Latvia, this is now a well-organised activity where everyone grabs their trash bags, rakes, and gloves to clean up communal areas, roadsides, ditches, and privately organised cleanups for families and friends.

The goal? To reduce pollution, of course, along with protecting biodiversity, and improving public health by removing hazards from natural spaces. Similar initiatives have developed across northern Europe, like Sweden’s Håll Sverige Rent (Keep Sweden Tidy) foundation and cleanup days in Iceland.

The cleanups have adapted to the times, and now include tree and flower planting, ancient tree conservation, and cleanups on various water bodies. There are even digital cleanups, urging people to declutter their devices by deleting unnecessary data. While digital waste may seem invisible, the servers and data centres that store our online content consume a lot of energy.

The impact of these efforts is far-reaching. People have become more reluctant to litter, reducing the piles of garbage left in nature and raising the awareness of long-term sustainability.

Liene Lūsīte:

And it's worked. Our perception of how we treat nature has changed drastically over the past 20 years. I remember, as a kid in the late 1990s to early 2000s, the forests near cities, towns, even villages, were full of garbage dumps. It was normal, kind of. This was well before proper waste sorting in Latvia.

While the organic remains had long given themselves back to nature, the packaging stayed. I still sometimes remove flattened plastic bottles from very remote, deep forests, which have been left there for at least two decades. But the piles of used baby diapers and empty jars of Latvian national treasure – sour cream – have decreased immensely. I love to (not) see that.