On 5 October 2026, a Moscow court formally recognised thirteen individuals and five organisations from the Baltic states as accomplices of Nazi Germany. The decision, long in preparation, is not a mere historical footnote. It is a calculated move that turns a Second World War chapter into a live instrument of political confrontation. Behind the legal language lies a deliberate strategy: Moscow now explicitly invokes the defence of its “national interests” to justify revisiting the past. This rhetoric extends far beyond the archives and lands in the middle of already soaring tensions between Russia, the Baltic states, and NATO.
A case with no defendants and a clear political subtext
The story could have stayed buried in wartime records. Instead, it has acquired a geopolitical dimension.
In late September, the Russian Prosecutor General’s Office petitioned the Tver District Court in Moscow to legally establish the responsibility of thirteen individuals and five Baltic organisations for war crimes and crimes against humanity committed during the Nazi occupation.
On 5 October, the court granted the request. Among the targeted groups are the Estonian Omakaitse, the Latvian Aizsargi and Pērkonkrusts formations, as well as the Lithuanian Activist Front and the Union of Lithuanian Nationalists. Individuals named include Ain-Ervin Mere, Viktor Arājs, and Herberts Cukurs.
Moscow claims to base its case on archival documents from security services, the Ministry of Defence, and Russian state archives. The Russian Council on Military History also contributed to the expert assessment presented to the court.
On one point, the historical record is not without foundation: the collaboration of certain Baltic formations and individuals with German occupation authorities, and their involvement in crimes against civilians and Soviet prisoners, is a subject extensively documented by historians.
But Moscow’s choice is clearly not limited to a commemorative gesture.
When memory becomes a political tool
In its 5 October statement, the Russian Prosecutor General’s Office described the ruling as a “fact of legal significance.” It said the decision should help preserve historical memory and combat what it calls the falsification of history. Crucially, the institution explicitly linked this move to the protection of the national interests of the Russian Federation.
That last phrase gives the case its particular weight.
For years, Moscow has accused Baltic authorities of rewriting the history of the Second World War and glorifying Nazi collaborators. In September, the Prosecutor General’s Office had already denounced what it called a systematic policy.
The vocabulary fits a broader Kremlin narrative: a Russia presented as the heir to the Soviet victory over Nazism, facing a supposed resurgence of “fascism” or “Nazism” among some of its neighbours.
This framework had already been central to Russian discourse on Ukraine. Its extension to the three Baltic states is therefore politically significant.
The Baltic states in Moscow’s crosshairs
Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania are not just Russia’s neighbours. They are members of the European Union and NATO, and now form one of the main points of contact between the Atlantic Alliance and Russian territory.
Since the start of the war in Ukraine, the three countries have taken some of Europe’s firmest positions toward Moscow. They strongly support Kyiv and view Russia as a direct threat to their security.
Baltic governments regularly reject Russian accusations of propaganda and discrimination. In April 2026, Tallinn, Riga, and Vilnius had already jointly denounced what they called a Russian disinformation campaign targeting their countries.
The new legal procedure risks reinforcing an already entrenched dynamic: in Moscow, history serves to challenge the political legitimacy of its neighbours; in Baltic capitals, Russian pressure is used to justify deeper military cooperation with the West.
A legal dimension—but what consequences?
An important caveat: the Tver court’s decision does not, by itself, mean that military or territorial action against the Baltic states is imminent.
The procedure concerns historical figures and organisations, most of them dead or defunct, and relates to events dating back to the Second World War.
Its significance lies elsewhere.
By labelling these facts as “legally significant,” Moscow is adding a new piece to its historical and diplomatic argument. Some Russian officials have already suggested the decision could be used in international forums.
The risk is therefore one of gradual instrumentalisation of law and history: producing national judicial decisions, weaving them into a diplomatic narrative, and then using them to contest the political or historical legitimacy of the Baltic states.
This is what some observers describe as a form of lawfare—the use of law as an instrument of political confrontation.
NATO faces a war of narratives
The stakes thus extend beyond Moscow, Riga, Vilnius, and Tallinn. They directly concern NATO.
The Baltic states are covered by Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty: an attack on one member is considered an attack on all. The progressive transformation of Russian historical discourse into a political argument therefore creates a particularly sensitive strategic environment.
This tension comes as military concerns in the region are already high. Russia has recently stepped up warnings about NATO activity around Kaliningrad, while the Alliance insists its posture in the region is defensive.
On 6 October, Moscow also reacted sharply to Lithuanian plans regarding changes to its nuclear policy and the possibility of a greater US military presence in the country. The Kremlin denounced a potential escalation linked to the approach of US and NATO military infrastructure toward Russian borders.
In this context, the battle over memory is far from trivial.
A new frontline
The “Baltic collaborators” case ultimately illustrates a broader evolution in the confrontation between Russia and the West: battlefields are no longer only military.
Archives, courts, historical memory, diplomacy, and public communication are now instruments of power too.
It would be excessive to see the Moscow court’s decision as proof of an immediate plan to attack the Baltic states. But it would be equally unwise to dismiss it as a mere historians’ quarrel.
By simultaneously invoking the memory of the Second World War, the fight against “Nazism,” and the protection of Russian national interests, Moscow is constructing a narrative that directly links past and present.
And in a region where three NATO member states lie just dozens or hundreds of kilometres from Russian territory, this battle of narratives could have very real consequences for European security.
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