Railway bridge between Finland and Sweden across the Torne river, photographed on the Swedish side in the city of Haparanda, Sweden. (Image: Shutterstock, by Tommy Alven)

Ripping Up the Rails of Empire: Baltic and Finnish Railways Turn Westward

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The Baltic states and Finland are racing to redraw their rail networks on European terms. Soviet-gauge tracks – once binding these countries to Moscow – are being supplanted by European standard-gauge lines in a strategic shift with echoes of the Cold War. This grand infrastructure push is driven by hard security logic: NATO troop movement, civilian evacuation plans, and a determination to sever the last steel umbilical cords to the former imperial ruler in the East. The projects have become geopolitical imperatives – even as budgets soar and timelines slip.

Rail Baltica – an 870 km high-speed line from Tallinn to Warsaw – began as a visionary EU integration project. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, it is treated as nothing less than a lifeline. “Rail Baltica is not only an infrastructure project – it is a geopolitically strategic project,” Latvia’s transport minister declared. For the first time, trains will be able to run directly from Western Europe to the Baltic capitals, plugging a glaring gap in NATO’s mobility. Commanders note it will allow troops and heavy equipment to deploy by rail from, say, the Netherlands all the way to Tallinn. Up to 10,000 NATO soldiers are already in the Baltics, with plans to reinforce up to 200,000 in a crisis – a task made far easier by a unified rail gauge. Following Russia’s 2022 invasion, officials openly frame Rail Baltica as “a strategic imperative” for countries who feel “their neighbour as an existential threat”.

Yet this grand rail artery is years behind schedule. There is still “no direct link” between the Baltic states and Poland today. The original plan to have fast passenger trains running by 2026 and full completion by 2030 now looks fanciful. Construction has only begun on fragments, and by late 2024 the project had “already cost billions… but is years from being completed”. In fact, officials quietly admit 2030 will not be met. An EU-funded review concluded it is “not to be expected that the investment as a whole will be completed by the end of this decade”. Instead, a phasedopening is likely: a single-track “minimal” railway by 2030 to satisfy political promises, with full dual-track, high-speed service only in the 2030s. The CEO of Estonia’s railway even anticipates “several more years of delays” unless missing billions in funding are secured.

Building Rail Baltica project in the centre of Riga. Construction works of roads, railways and bridges in Riga. (Image: Shutterstock)

The reasons for delay go well beyond COVID-19 disruptions. Costs have ballooned from €5.8 billion to an estimated €24 billion as inflation and war-driven material prices hit hard. The small Baltic economies struggle with their 15 percent share of that sum. Meanwhile, project management has been, by all accounts, a mess. Years of squabbling and turnover among the three countries’ joint venture have stalled progress. “It is evident that the current model is not working,” an exasperated European Commission official warned, conditioning future EU funds on governance reforms. The EU covers up to 85 percent of Rail Baltica’s cost, but Brussels is losing patience with mismanagement. Internal audits have flagged “inefficiencies, conflicts of interest and a careless attitude toward… funds,” and Brussels threatened to cut money if an integrated management structure isn’t adopted by mid-2025. In short, a project vital to three nations’ security is bogged down by peacetime bureaucracy.

Crucially, Latvia’s financing woes now jeopardise the timeline. Riga recently indicated its stretch won’t be finished before 2035, a five-year slide that could forfeit €1 billion in EU funding tied to the 2030 target. Estonia’s national auditor bluntly says further delays are likely unless money is found now – otherwise, “it’ll be even more expensive” later. All three Baltic governments insist they are committed (as one put it: “there is no turning back – Rail Baltica is vital”), but the reality is a frantic scramble to trim costs and keep Brussels on board. Plans are floated to build some sections single-track and delay expensive links to ports in order to “slash the budget”. Such compromises would hurt capacity and speed but may be the only way to get at least a basic north–south rail corridor operational by the early 2030s.

Strategically, the stakes are high. As Estonia’s infrastructure minister put it, this railway is “an unbreakable link with the networks of Europe” – and a physical guarantee that the Baltic states are not isolated on NATO’s flank. Today, the only rail lines out of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania run east into Russia/Belarus or stop at the Polish border where tracks don’t align. The new standard-gauge route will finally “uncouple [the region] from Russia’s transport network” and allow the Baltics to be reinforced from Western Europe at high speed. For now, any NATO heavy armour arriving at Polish ports or German bases must either go by road or face a laborious bogie change at the Lithuania–Poland border. Little wonder Baltic officials talk about Rail Baltica in almost existential terms: “If we want to preserve our freedom… there is no other way,” Estonia’s minister said. Their only Plan B is presumably the highway – and in wartime, road convoys would be much slower and more vulnerable.

Finland’s “Now or Never” Gauge Shift – Eyes North, Questioning the Turku Line

While the Baltics lay a new track, Finland is grappling with its rail gauge legacy. Alone in the EU, Finland, like the Baltic states, still uses the broad 1,524 mm track gauge – a quirk of history dating to its 19th-century status as a Russian Grand Duchy. Now, as a freshly minted NATO member directly bordering Russia, Helsinki is treating that quirk as a strategic liability. In May 2025, Finland’s transport minister Lulu Ranne stunned many by announcing plans to convert Finland’s rail network to European standard gauge. “It’s now or never,” Ranne declared, urging swift action while EU funding is available. The move would sever one of Finland’s last infrastructural ties to Russia and physically link Finnish railways to the rest of Europe for the first time.

Under the plan – nicknamed “Rail Nordica” – Finland will build new standard-gauge track starting from the far north, where it can connect to Sweden, and onward to the Norwegian Sea. The first phase earmarked €20 million for planning a short link from the Swedish border at Haparanda/Tornio to Kemi in northern Finland. Eventually, this European-gauge line would extend south to Oulu and even Rovaniemi, forming a continuous corridor through to Narvik, Norway’s ice-free Atlantic port. “Although there are significant challenges in the South, there is a large consensus that the major changes must come in the North,” Minister Ranne told Nordic colleagues. Indeed, in spring 2024, a NATO exercise proved the concept by railing US military hardware from Narvik, via Sweden, into Finland’s north. The subtext is clear: Finland wants a secure northern supply line and an evacuation route that bypasses the Baltic Sea – a lesson learned from history. In World War II, the Allies struggled to get aid to Finland during the Winter War against Russia, and the Baltic Sea could be contested in any future conflict.

By contrast, the Finnish government is openly re-evaluating a flashy high-speed rail project in the southwest: the proposed Turku–Helsinki “one-hour train.” That €3–5 billion plan to slash travel times between Helsinki and Turku, Finland’s third city, was a key promise of the Prime Minister Petteri Orpo from the conservative National Coalition Party. But its strategic value is being questioned in the new security context. Ranne – from the nationalist Finns Party, a junior partner in the coalition – has been notably cool on the Turku line. She insists there must be a “broad, open-minded discussion” on whether this is “in this time, in this geopolitical situation, the number one priority”. With defence spending surging and EU pressure to invest in north–south connectivity, many in Helsinki suspect it is not. Talks between the state and municipalities over Turku line funding have stalled amid disagreements on cost-sharing. Prime Minister Orpo, a Turku native, remains a champion of the project, and the coalition agreement still nods to it, but even he must concede that “the world has changed around us.” The subtext: money and focus are shifting northward.

Ranne has hinted that if the Turku line, branded now as the “Länsirata” or West Rail, does go ahead, it might be built to standard gauge from the outset. In practice, that is politically tricky – it would create an awkward one-hour bubble of incompatible tracks unless the rest of Finland follows suit. But it shows how Finland’s rail vision has flipped. Two years ago, an official study flatly concluded converting Finland’s gauge “would not be cost-efficient”. Now, after Ukraine’s wake-up call, the government is committing to at least beginning the gauge transition. Helsinki has little choice: a new EU regulation coming into force obliges member states with non-standard gauge to “study, plan and promote” a conversion to 1,435 mm. By July 2027, Finland must decide a timeline and scope for the shift. Ranne has already sketched the outline: start in the north around 2030–2032, and gradually work south over “decades of investments”. EU funds could cover 50 per cent of planning and 30 per cent of construction costs, but the total price tag will still be “in the billions” for Finland’s government. Critics call it a boondoggle – an expensive solution in search of a problem – but the strategic calculus has shifted. As one Finnish commentator noted wryly, the gauge change idea was “seen as unnecessary” two years ago, but opinions have changed, amid war and NATO membership.

Shedding the Soviet Gauge: Managing the 1520 mm Legacy

These rail transformations mean unwinding 150 years of broad-gauge infrastructure. The Baltic states, Finland, and parts of Poland all inherited the Russian 5‑foot gauge (1524 mm, later standardised as 1520 mm) from the tsarist and Soviet eras. Today, this legacy network poses both practical and security dilemmas.

  • The Baltic States have operated on broad gauge since the late 19th century. After regaining independence in 1991, they kept the 1,520 mm tracks for their domestic railways and cross-border freight to Russia/Belarus. Now they are building a parallel system: Rail Baltica’s new north–south corridor will be entirely standard gauge, while the existing east–west broad-gauge lines remain in service (for now). This dual system approach means Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania plan to run two incompatible rail networks side by side. It is costly but unavoidable – they cannot scrap the old tracks yet, because vital intra-Baltic routes and freight corridors, e.g. from Lithuanian ports to Ukraine via Poland, still rely on them. However, usage of the broad-gauge network is dwindling fast. Since 2022, Baltic rail operators lost their main markets in Russia and Belarus due to sanctions and policy choices, leaving lines to those borders quiet. Latvia’s rail freight, for instance, plummeted as Russian coal and oil transit dried up. The broad-gauge tracks will increasingly serve only local needs and niche flows, like timber, peat, or intra-Baltic trains, if not mothballed outright in the future. Already, Lithuania has ripped up a spur linking its network to Belarus as a sanction measure, a rail line to a fertiliser plant, removed to enforce EU sanctions. Similar steps could be followed if the security situation worsens.
  • Finland has over 5,900 km of track in broad gauge, the same 1,524 mm it has used since 1862. For decades, this was no hindrance – Finland’s rail links to Russia carried both freight and the famous Helsinki–St Petersburg “Allegro” express before the war. But since 2022, traffic to Russia has been largely cut off, and those eastern lines sit idle. Finland faces a stark choice: maintain a broad-gauge island cut off from its allies, or gradually rebuild to meet its Swedish and Norwegian neighbours. It has chosen the latter. The plan is not to literally rip up every track, but to add or convert key routes in stages. The first new standard-gauge rails will likely be laid alongside the existing ones in the north, dual-tracking with different gauges. Some busy corridors might even see triple-rail solutions, where an extra rail is added to accommodate both gauges on the same sleepers. In time, perhaps decades from now, Finland could flip entirely to 1,435 mm – but only once rolling stock, stations, depots, and even tunnels are adapted. The undertaking is enormous: “jättimäinen,” Ranne said – gigantic. It will be the biggest change to Finland’s railways since they were built. Technical challenges abound: not just gauge, but electrification standards, loading gauge, tunnel clearances, and platform heights would need alignment with Europe. Finland’s trains currently run on 25 kV AC electrification, like most of Europe, which helps, but other specs differ. All this means the broad-gauge legacy will persist in Finland for years. The state railway VR will have to maintain two fleets of trains, or adjustable bogies, during the transition. Nonetheless, Helsinki has signalled clearly that the Russian gauge’s days are numbered on its soil. As one Finnish official put it, the question is no longer if but “in what timeframe and to what extent” Finland shifts to EU gauge.
  • Poland converted the ex-Russian Imperial railways in its territory to standard gauge after independence in 1918. Today, Poland is entirely 1,435 mm gauge – except for a few curious remnants of the Soviet era. The largest is the LHS (Linia Hutnicza Szerokotorowa), a 394 km broad-gauge freight line running from the Ukrainian border to steel mills in Silesia. Built in the 1970s, it was designed to bring iron ore from the USSR directly into Poland. The LHS line still operates, now carrying Ukrainian iron ore and grain exports as a crucial workaround while Black Sea ports are threatened. Poland also has short broad-gauge stretches at border crossings – for example, near Małaszewicze on the Belarus border, a key transhipment hub, and at Mockava between Lithuania and Poland, where a dual-gauge section connects to Kaunas. Warsaw shows no intent to uproot these – if anything, Poland is enhancing east–west rail links for Ukraine’s sake. There are proposals to extend standard gauge deep into Ukraine, and conversely, Ukraine is sending broad-gauge trains into Polish logistics hubs. In the strategic calculus, Poland’s broad-gauge spur has flipped from a potential vulnerability, a Soviet supply line into NATO territory, to an asset for supporting Ukraine. Still, the presence of a 1,520 mm track on NATO soil raises contingency questions. In a wider war, those lines could theoretically be used by an enemy’s rolling stock – or conversely, they could serve NATO to send equipment directly into Ukraine and the Baltics without gauge change. It cuts both ways. Poland, firmly in NATO’s camp, will ensure any such infrastructure is either well-secured or, if necessary, can be destroyed at a moment’s notice.

The former Soviet gauge is slowly but surely receding westward. Where it remains, its purpose is being reinvented. The Baltics and Finland are determined to ensure that Russian-gauge rails – once built to speed Moscow’s armies and freight – will no longer play into Moscow’s hands. One Lithuanian rail chief framed it this way: the new standard-gauge Rail Baltica will be “a high-capacity route for military transport,” tailored to NATO needs, whereas the old broad lines were built for another era.

Standard Gauge as a Security Game-Changer

The strategic logic behind these rail projects comes down to simple, stark math. Moving people and materiel by rail is immensely more efficient and secure than by road – especially under threat. Some eye-opening estimates illustrate why NATO and the EU are so keen on standardising the gauge and upgrading rail links on the eastern flank:

  • Mass Evacuation Capacity: A completed Rail Baltica could evacuate up to 143,000 civilians per day from the Baltic capitals to Poland in an emergency. This figure, from a recent cost–benefit analysis, underscores the life-and-death value of a robust rail corridor. In any looming conflict, getting civilians (or troops) out of harm’s way quickly will be paramount. Trains can move tens of thousands in a single day – far outpacing what airlifts or convoys of private cars could achieve.
  • Military Mobility and Logistics: A single military train, 40 wagons long, can carry as much heavy equipment as a 7 km convoy of trucks. In peacetime, that means cost savings; in wartime, it means speed and concentration of force. One train can haul hundreds of armoured vehicles or dozens of tanks plus supplies. NATO has noted that a train can be the equivalent of “40 kilometres of convoy” on the road – a huge reduction in exposure to air or missile strikes. As rail advocates like to say, steel wheels beat rubber tires for mass mobilisation.
  • Interoperability – No Gauge Breaks: Every time a loaded train reaches the end of one-track gauge and has to transfer its cargo or change its wheelsets, precious hours – if not days – are lost. In a fast-moving crisis, gauge breaks cost time that the Baltics may not have. Adopting the standard gauge across the front-line states means NATO reinforcements can flow from Germany or France straight to Estonia without stopping at Šeštokai, the Lithuania/Poland break of gauge, or other chokepoints. “Rail Baltica will permit rapid reinforcements of the 10,000 NATO troops currently stationed in the region, should Moscow turn its acquisitive attention here,” noted one analysis. It eliminates a built-in delay that an adversary could otherwise exploit. During Russia’s assault on Kyiv in 2022, Ukraine’s railways – all broad gauge – famously kept supplies and evacuations running under fire. But Western military aid had to be transloaded onto broad-gauge wagons at Poland’s border. The Baltics states and Finland want to remove such friction from their own defence plans.
  • Denying a Ride to the Russians: There is a defensive rationale in play, too. In the 19th and 20th centuries, Imperial Russia and the USSR often benefited from a different gauge by slowing invaders, Nazi Germany’s advance literally bogged down partly due to incompatible rails. Now the shoe is on the other foot. If Russia ever attempted to overrun the Baltics or Finland, it would find no convenient broad-gauge rail network to commandeer for its own use. “Suspicious of its western neighbours, the Soviet Union maintained a separate railway gauge to complicate invasion attempts” – today, the Baltic states and Finland are, in effect, returning the favour. Any occupying force would face a gauge mismatch or destroyed connectors, hindering its ability to resupply or deploy using local rail. It’s a small but possibly telling factor in deterrence. Of course, rail lines can be rebuilt or regauged with effort – but not quickly, especially if under guerrilla attack.
  • Redundancy and Resilience: Standard-gauge connections provide NATO with multiple supply paths. For example, if the Suwałki Gap, the narrow land route from Poland to Lithuania between Belarus and Kaliningrad, is threatened or congested, having a standard-gauge rail link via the Baltic Sea, future tunnel or ferries, or via the Arctic, Sweden–Finland–Norway route, could be invaluable. Finland’s minister put it bluntly: “We will never again be in a situation where we can’t get help into Finland or cannot get to Europe via railway”. Rail Nordica – the Finland–Sweden–Norway plan – is as much about guaranteeing a western escape/supply route as it is about commercial transport. Likewise, a fixed rail link from Finland to Estonia, if built, would add a new route that bypasses potential naval blockades in the Baltic Sea.

These rail projects are about hardening the eastern flank of Europe. They boost what the EU calls “military mobility” – ensuring NATO can move swiftly to reinforce any threatened member. The EU is even funding civilian rail and road upgrades under a special Military Mobility fund, acknowledging that tanks need strong bridges and long trains need modern tracks. For the people of the Baltics and Finland, there’s also a psychological benefit: the steel rails to the West represent a promise that they won’t be left isolated as in past dark chapters. Trains running west mean solidarity.

Already, public opinion in the region recognises this. Surveys in the Baltics show significant support for Rail Baltica as a security investment, not just an economic one. The sight of American armour rolling off flatbed railcars in Latvia during exercises is a tangible reassurance. And conversely, the sight of rusting Soviet-era train cars sidelined in Estonia is a reminder of how much things have changed.

The Helsinki–Tallinn Tunnel: From Chinese Dreams to NATO Realities

Amid these rail ambitions, one grand idea looms in the background: an undersea tunnel linking Helsinki and Tallinn. Often dubbed the “Talsinki Tunnel,” this 100 km subsea railway would connect Finland directly to Estonia, and thus to Rail Baltica. It could transform the region – turning a two-hour ferry crossing into a 30-minute train ride, knitting Finland into the European rail grid, and creating a contiguous North–South Rail Corridor from the Arctic Circle to the heart of Europe.

In the 2010s, the tunnel was hyped as a visionary private venture. Entrepreneur Peter Vesterbacka, famed for Angry Birds, championed it and even secured a tentative €15 billion funding pledge from China’s Touchstone Capital in 2019. He signed MOUs with Chinese state firms to design and build the tunnel as part of Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative. The plan was bold: start digging by 2020, finish by 2024 – an unrealistically aggressive timeline that raised eyebrows. Indeed, while Vesterbacka talked up Chinese financing, neither the Finnish nor Estonian governments fully bought in. Officials in Tallinn and Helsinki remained sceptical, concerned about the economic viability and geopolitical strings of Chinese involvement. Moscow, notably, would likely have objected fiercely to a Chinese-funded NATO-country tunnel in the Gulf of Finland – potentially interfering with Russian naval movements and binding Finland closer to NATO, even before Finland was in NATO.

Unsurprisingly, the tunnel never got off the drawing board. A Finnish–Estonian feasibility study in 2017 estimated a €13–20 billion cost and a 2040 opening at the earliest. Vesterbacka’s team claimed it could be done much faster and cheaper, but by 2020 the project stalled. The pandemic, plus growing Western wariness of Chinese infrastructure deals, further froze progress. Touchstone Capital’s billions never materialised beyond talk.

Today, in 2025, the tunnel remains a tantalising but distant prospect. Finnish Transport Minister Ranne poured cold water on it in a February 2024 interview, calling the tunnel “unrealistic and not on the agenda” unless the EU decides to bankroll it. Neither Helsinki nor Tallinn has spare funds or political appetite for a scheme that large, especially while Rail Baltica itself is unfinished. Both countries are instead focused on improving ferry capacity and considering cheaper alternatives, like enhanced RoRo ship links for rail wagons. The war in Ukraine has, if anything, reduced interest in Chinese-funded mega-projects – strategic infrastructure is now seen through a security lens, and Chinese involvement might be viewed as a Trojan horse. Estonia, in particular, has become more wary of Beijing’s influence as it aligns tightly with NATO.

However, the idea is not dead forever. EU strategists quietly acknowledge that a fixed Helsinki–Tallinn link would cement Finland’s integration into Europe’s transport network – a logical “next step” after Rail Baltica. The European Commission has even included a possible Finland–Estonia tunnel in long-term TEN-T corridor maps, as a dotted line. NATO, too, would gain another supply route to Finland that bypasses the Baltic States’ narrow land corridor. “There is even talk of an eventual tunnel linking Estonia to Finland,” Politico noted amidst discussions of Rail Baltica. For now, it is only talk. But one could imagine, perhaps a decade from now, an EU/NATO-backed revival of the tunnel concept, pitched not as a Chinese business venture but as a European strategic infrastructure project. If the security situation with Russia remains tense, having a secure underground rail link could be very attractive.

In the meantime, Chinese interest has shifted or waned. The companies Vesterbacka courted – China Railway Group, CCCC, etc. – have plenty on their plate with Belt and Road projects elsewhere – and the political climate in Europe is less welcoming. Notably, some of the same Chinese firms were involved in controversial projects like the bridge to Crimea; any future attempt by them to build a NATO-country tunnel would face scrutiny. Europe has learned to be cautious of critical infrastructure falling under authoritarian influence.

So, the Helsinki–Tallinn tunnel sits on the shelf, an engineering marvel waiting for its moment. For now, the Gulf of Finland remains a gap in the rail map. Eight million ferry passengers a year make do with the 2-hour boat, and cargo rolls on and off ships. Should Rail Baltica open in the 2030s as hoped, the business case for the tunnel might strengthen – imagine catching a train in Helsinki and being in Warsaw or Berlin by evening, without ever disembarking. But until someone finds €20 billion and a compelling security rationale, this particular “Silk Road in the slush”, as some dubbed the tunnel idea, will stay as blueprints. For the short term, Finland’s priority is laying rails northward on firm ground, not undersea.

Uniting the Iron Curtain’s Two Sides: A New North–South Axis

Broader trends are at play beyond the Baltic Sea. Across Eastern Europe – essentially the former lands of the Russian Empire and Warsaw Pact – there’s a concerted push to realign infrastructure westward. Rail gauge is the most visible symbol, but the concept extends to energy grids, roads, and supply chains.

  • Poland, the Baltics, and Finland, all now NATO and EU members, these countries are synchronising their rail and power systems with Western Europe. In fact, in a parallel project, the Baltic states will in early 2025 decouple their electricity grids from Russia and connect to the EU grid. The rail gauge change is the transport equivalent of that decoupling – ending a Soviet-era dependency and vulnerability.
  • Ukraine and Moldova, both EU candidates, have also started work on breaking out of the old Soviet gauge zone. Ukraine maintains over 20,000 km of 1,520 mm rail, but since 2022, it has built a few standard-gauge links across its western borders – for example, a short 1,435 mm line from Poland into western Ukraine for grain exports. Kyiv has announced longer-term plans to gradually convert key routes to standard gauge as part of EU accession – an unprecedented endeavour in a country that is large. Moldova, similarly, is studying standard-gauge rail upgrades to link more seamlessly with Romania, which uses EU gauge. Ranne pointed out that “Moldova and Ukraine have already begun working on adapting the track width”, arguing that a “common railway standard is highly prioritised at the EU level” now. In essence, the Iron Curtain’s infrastructural divide is being erased, from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea.
  • North–South vs East–West: Historically, Russian and Soviet rail networks were built on an east–west orientation – connecting resource-rich hinterlands to the metropole (Moscow/Petersburg) and linking military fronts from Europe to Asia. In the Baltics, rail lines were laid to funnel Baltic port goods into Russia and to move Soviet troops toward the West. There was little concern for north–south connections between the captive nations. Today, we see a deliberate pivot to north–south corridors within NATO/EU. The Three Seas Initiative (a forum of Eastern EU states) has championed better north–south connectivity, from the Baltic down to the Adriatic and Black Seas, to complement the well-developed East–West links in Western Europe. Rail Baltica is one shining example, but there are others: Poland and Ukraine envision a new high-capacity railway from the Baltic ports, like Gdańsk, to Ukraine’s ports and further to the Black Sea – a modern remake of the interwar Polish Corridor concept. Finland-to-Central Europe via the Baltic is another. In effect, Eastern Europe is stitching together its own north–south spine, after a century of being cut into East–West slices by great powers.

This realignment has clear military logic, moving along NATO’s interior lines rather than toward Russia, and economic logic, boosting trade among the Eastern EU members who often had poor direct links. For instance, a container shipped from Finland to Poland currently might go by sea for two days or a circuitous rail route via Russia; in the future, it could zip down Rail Baltica in a day. A tank from Germany could roll off a train in Latvia instead of driving a transport truck for 1,000 km. These scenarios are driving policy and funding decisions at the highest levels.

However, as with all grand projects, the question comes: who pays, and how to sustain public support?

Budget Battles and Public Buy-In

Both the Baltic states and Finland are small in population, but now shoulder outsized defence budgets post-Ukraine. Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania are spending well above 2 per cent of GDP on defence, Lithuania over per cent in 2023, and Finland too has hiked spending (ordering F‑35 fighter jets and boosting its army). At the same time, these countries are expected to co-finance multi-billion-euro rail projects. It’s a recipe for budget strains and tough political choices.

So far, the European Union has footed most of the bill for Rail Baltica – up to 85 percent in grants – and will likewise heavily subsidise Finland’s gauge transition studies. This is crucial: without EU solidarity, the projects would likely falter. In late 2023, the EU agreed to an extra €1.4 billion injection for Rail Baltica from its Connecting Europe Facility. More is being sought: another €400 million+ application is in the works. But EU funds are not infinite, and they often come with conditions. Brussels, for example, is tying further Rail Baltica aid to governance reforms.

Domestic debates have indeed flared. In Estonia and Latvia, opposition politicians have decried Rail Baltica’s cost as excessive during an economic crunch, both countries slid into recession in 2023. Some have even floated delaying or downsizing it to fund social needs or buy more artillery. The counter-argument – that Rail Baltica itself is a security investment – usually wins the day in parliaments, but not without grumbling. A Latvian audit office report warning of cost overruns gave fodder to sceptics, though it also reinforced the need to fix project management.

Finland, meanwhile, has had experts openly criticise the gauge project. Immediately after Ranne’s May 2025 announcement, railway engineers like Hege Miettinen labelled it “tolloa” – folly. In a scathing blog, Miettinen argued that the “billion-euro costs and downsides far outweigh the benefits”. He noted that simply buying new dual-gauge capable rolling stock would be cheaper than converting thousands of kilometres of track. He also pointed out that rail interoperability is about more than gauge – “electrical systems, loading gauges and platform heights” would still differ, limiting any quick military advantage. “Security of supply is not a sufficient basis for billion-euro investments,” he concluded, suspecting the benefits are being exaggerated. These arguments resonate with a fiscally conservative streak in Finland. If the Finnish economy sputters or if EU aid disappoints, the gauge change could become politically toxic.

On the other hand, proponents are framing these projects as multi-purpose nation-builders. Rail Baltica isn’t sold just as a military railway – it’s also hyped for passenger travel, green transport and economic stimulus. The Baltic governments highlight expected boosts in GDP and job creation, a study claimed €16 billion in socioeconomic benefits. Finland’s Ranne similarly touted gauge conversion as a boost to “growth and employment” in the north, not merely a defence move. By broadening the narrative – it’s not just about tanks, it’s about trade and travel – leaders aim to keep public opinion on their side. In blunt terms, concrete and steel create jobs; armies alone do not. That’s a political selling point.

There is also the argument of not being penny-wise, pound-foolish when it comes to strategic infrastructure. As one Estonian security expert quipped, the cost of Rail Baltica, in the tens of billions, might equal the cost of a few armoured brigades – but the railway could be what allows those brigades to arrive in time to matter. From NATO’s perspective, investing in rails is as important as investing in weapons, because one without the other could render both useless. This view has penetrated EU budgeting: a portion of the European Defence Fund and CEF is earmarked specifically for improving transport links for military mobility. So Baltic and Finnish leaders often emphasise that Brussels is helping pay – it’s not just coming out of national coffers. For example, Finland will lean on the new TEN-T regulation, which prioritises standard-gauge projects for EU funding. If EU money covers 30–50%, and if the projects are phased over 20–30 years, the hit on annual budgets may be tolerable.

Nonetheless, expect sticker shock headlines for years. Every time Rail Baltica runs into a snag, its detractors pounce – a recent headline: “Rail Baltica has enough money for only 40 km of track”, highlighting funding shortfalls. In Finland, the phrase “jättimäinen päätös” – gigantic decision – was splashed in the news about the gauge change. The government in Helsinki will have to make a decision by 2027, which could be politically delicate if the Finns Party, sceptical of EU projects, butts heads with more pro-European coalition partners. It may even become an election issue by then: do we invest in rails to Sweden or focus on highways at home? The outcome will hinge on security perceptions at that time. Right now, in 2025, Russia’s threat looms large and unifies opinion that “we must integrate with NATO’s infrastructure”. If that threat recedes, the urgency might too – but few in Helsinki or Tallinn are betting on a benign Russia anytime soon.

From Tsarist Tracks to a NATO Corridor: History on Repeat

The ironies of history are not lost on those involved. In the 1840s, when Tsar Nicholas I’s advisors chose a 5‑foot gauge for Russia’s first major railway, the idea of integrating with Western Europe’s rail network wasn’t even considered. Russia was building for its own empire’s needs, and perhaps for greater stability on rough terrain. The oft-repeated tale that the tsars picked a wider gauge “to prevent invasion” is largely a myth – Russian military engineers in 1841 understood that blowing up bridges would stop an enemy, gauge differences or not. In fact, an American engineer, George W. Whistler, persuaded the Tsar to adopt a 5 ft gauge mainly because it was a reasonable compromise: cheaper than an even wider Brunel-style gauge, but more capacious than the narrow British standard. Continuity with Europe did not feature in the decision. By the time railways had spread enough for the incompatibility to matter, it was “too late to change” Russia’s choice. Thus, a quirk of timing and engineering preference set in motion 180 years of divergence.

Fast-forward to the world wars, and that divergence turned into a defensive asset willy-nilly. German armies invading the Soviet Union in both 1914 and 1941 found that after they captured territory, they couldn’t easily use the rail lines – the gauges didn’t match. They resorted to the tedious task of re-laying tracks or moving supplies to trucks, slowing the offensives. It’s often cited that Hitler’s advance on Moscow was hampered by the need to rebuild railways – among many other logistical woes. In that sense, the broad gauge fulfilled the myth: it did inconvenience invaders, even if that wasn’t the original intent. The Soviets certainly appreciated the advantage; Stalin, one might say, leaned into it by maintaining the difference and even expanding broad gauge wherever Red Army liberators marched. Eastern Europe’s railways were regauged to 1520 mm in 1945 to ease Soviet logistics.

Now consider the poetic reversal happening: those same nations that once had their rails re-gauged by Moscow are tearing up or twinning the tracks to match Western Europe. It’s a full-circle moment – the “gauge of history” coming around, as The Economist quipped. And the strategic rationale has indeed flipped. Whereas Russia kept its gauge to isolate and control its borderlands, today those borderlands are adopting Europe’s gauge to integrate and secure themselves against Russia. Eighty-five millimetres – the difference in width between Russian and standard rails – now separates East from West in a very literal way. Close that gap, and the division closes too.

Critics in Moscow have noticed this trend. Russian pundits occasionally rail – no pun intended – that the Baltics are “tearing up perfectly good railroads” out of Russophobia, or that Ukraine switching gauges would be an economic blunder. But such comments ring hollow given Russia’s own use of infrastructure as a weapon. Europe has learned the hard way that dependency can be dangerous, whether on gas pipelines or railway lines. The ongoing rail projects are about eliminating those dangerous dependencies. A senior Lithuanian official explicitly said that standardising railways will “increase the EU’s ability to respond to security threats and strengthen vulnerable regions”. It’s part of fortifying the “cordon sanitaire” that has historically existed between Russia and Western Europe – only now that cordon’s infrastructure faces west, not east.

One might recall the term “Intermarium”, a 1920s idea of uniting the lands between the Baltic and Black Seas as a third force in Europe. In some ways, the north–south rail and road buildouts are Intermarium 2.0, this time firmly under the EU/NATO umbrella. Rail Baltica’s corridor, stretching from Helsinki (via a future tunnel) down to Warsaw and beyond, is sometimes called the “Via Baltica” or “Baltic corridor” in EU planning documents. It ties into the broader North Sea–Baltic TEN-T Corridor, linking through to Rotterdam and Antwerp. Strategists love to draw these lines on maps: one can envision a day when an unbroken standard-gauge rail line runs from the Arctic Ocean in Norway, through Finland, under the Gulf of Finland, across the Baltics and Poland, all the way to the Aegean, via the proposed Rail 2 Sea project into Romania, or to the Black Sea port of Odessa once Ukraine is free and rebuilt. These are the dreams shaping policy now. They sound ambitious – even fanciful – but so did the idea of the Trans-Siberian Railway once, or the Channel Tunnel.

The difference this time is that the West is aligned and investing together. The clock is ticking, driven by the threat next door. As a Baltic commentator dryly observed, “From Warsaw to Tallinn in eight hours? Not in this decade!”. Perhaps not, but likely in the next. Patience is not a limitless virtue when security is on the line. These nations are determined to catch up on the lost time, even if it takes another 10 or 15 years. Every newly laid kilometre of standard gauge track is a step away from Moscow’s orbit and a step toward a more secure, integrated Europe.

The rails tell the story. Not long ago, a train journey across the Baltics was effectively a trip along the old Soviet supply lines, ending at a Russian frontier. In a few years, it will be a smooth ride from Tallinn to Berlin on European trains. Finland’s railways, once built to whisk the Tsar’s troops to the Arctic, will eventually connect to Stockholm and Western markets. The physical tracks of empire are being replaced by the tracks of alliance. It’s a transformation measured in steel, concrete and millimetres – and it’s rewriting the map of Europe as surely as any war or treaty.

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