Kaliningrad is part of Putin’s power play
England fans will find the Russian outpost is a curious mix of East and West, says Oliver Brown
Immanuel Kant, laid to rest in the leafy heart of Kaliningrad, once argued that a city “appears differently from the east than from the west”. The philosopher’s home town beside the Baltic, from where he never ventured more than 50 miles, has provided rich support for such a theory.
To the Germans, Konigsberg, as this place used to be, was the beating cultural and economic heart of Prussia. To the Soviets, it was, after its devastation in the Second World War, a military necessity, furnishing them with their only ice-free European port.
At the 2018 World Cup, the city has again become integral to a strategic power play, enabling Vladimir Putin to thrust his controversial tournament into the very centre of Europe. He has approved the staging of four matches here on Russia’s western extremity, the one location where his grand project is least likely to be ignored.
After all, this curious city in an exclave, wedged between Poland and Lithuania, lies a mere 31 miles across the border from the European Union.
For England fans heading over for the final group game against Belgium, it is nothing that a budget flight to Gdansk and a short bus ride cannot solve. For the moment, Kaliningrad belongs to the Croatians and Nigerians, who last
Today Croatia v Nigeria night colonised the fan zone in Tsentralnaya Square.
The German influences are seldom hard to discover: even the imposing entrance arch at Balkita FC, the local team, has been fashioned out of columns seized from New Altstadt Church, almost entirely flattened by air raids 73 years ago. But such heritage coexists incongruously with the reminders of decades of oppressive Communist rule.
Not far from the ruins of Konigsberg Castle, for example, lies the monolithic House of Soviets. “The monster”, residents call it, or “the buried robot”. Originally designed as the regional party headquarters, it has stood empty for over 30 years, cementing its dubious distinction as a monument to Soviet brutalism.
Today, there are more westward leanings. Kaliningrad’s gleaming Khrabrovo airport, finished in some haste for the World Cup, is a maze of bright shops and Italian restaurants.
Not that one can ever truly lose sight of who is in charge, given that one stall prominently displays a portrait of Putin, crafted from locally mined amber.
Plus, for all the determination here to welcome the world, there are a few restrictions on supporters’ liberties. While the Nigerian fans have spent their qualifying campaign bringing live chickens to matches, their feathers painted in national colours, local authorities wasted little time in outlawing ceremonial poultry.
However, as a World Cup venue, Kaliningrad’s special status seems assured. On the very fringes of Europe, fans have a chance to study the full complexity of Putin’s jamboree in microcosm.