The strategic Swedish island in the Baltic Sea, just 170 miles from the Russian territory of Kaliningrad, is developing a comprehensive defense system against a possible attack from the Kremlin

“We need to be able to stand up against a foreign threat when the time comes,” explains 19-year-old recruit Gustav Arnström, standing next to his tank. Location of the maneuvers: the west coast of the Swedish island of Gotland, in the Baltic Sea. The objective is to repel an airborne offensive. The enemy in mind: Russia.

They say in that land that the Swedes, while good at building things, are equally adept, and eager, at dismantling them. This is what happened after the end of the Cold War on this island, the largest in the Baltic, with a population of 61,000. Decades on the brink of nuclear disaster had mobilized some 25,000 soldiers — around 2,000 deployed on the ground — to protect Gotland. The Iron Curtain fell, and Sweden, like so many of its allies, believed that peace would be eternal and armies, more dispensable. Only a handful of reservists maintained the watch on this island, slightly smaller than Mallorca but of extraordinary strategic importance. “Whoever controls Gotland can dictate who sails or flies in the Baltic region,” says Colonel Dan Rasmussen, 58, who commands the regiment. The Russian exclave of Kaliningrad is only 170 miles away. A stone’s throw.

It was precisely Moscow and its imperialist campaign, unleashed with ferocity in Ukraine over the last decade, that roused the Swedes from a certain lethargy. Even before the illegal annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the first invasion of the eastern Donbas region, Russian nuclear-capable bombers had flown over Gotland in simulated operations, setting off alarm bells in Stockholm. The island’s defenses would have been insufficient in the event of a real attack. On January 22, two more aircraft took off from northwest Russia, near the Gulf of Finland, to carry out a similar flight of about five hours. Two Swedish fighter jets, part of a NATO mission — Sweden has been a member of the Alliance since March 2024 — escorted them back to their base.

The P18 regiment has been growing in numbers since its reactivation almost eight years ago. While constructing barracks in a Nordic style, it is taking advantage of accommodations in the countryside south of Visby, the capital of Gotland. It now numbers almost 400 uniformed personnel, including professional soldiers and conscripts. Twenty-year-old Emil Rid is one of them. Beneath the camouflage tarpaulin covering his tank, among trees and bushes, he speaks excellent English: “We have to show that we can defend ourselves and not just depend on NATO.”

Sweden aims to have a brigade of some 4,500 soldiers on the island within four years. By then, the recently acquired German Iris-T anti-missile batteries, so useful to the Ukrainian army, should be operational — the island is currently protected by Swedish-made medium-range systems.

If the Kremlin were to seize the island, the impact on NATO would be devastating, hindering any deployment of reinforcements to neighboring Baltic states (Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania). A Finnish military intelligence report published just days ago stated that “the security situation in the Baltic Sea region has deteriorated.” Again, the Kremlin is to blame. “Gotland is a recognized point of interest for Russia, as it offers a key strategic military position,” Swedish MEP Alice Teodorescu noted in a message. “While our defenses are currently being strengthened — a very positive step — more needs to be done in the face of the threats we face."

Following the accession of Sweden and Finland, many describe the Baltic Sea as the Atlantic Alliance’s lake. It is a vital trade route for Moscow, which sends its ships — many from the so-called “phantom fleet” that illegally carries hydrocarbons — to skirt Gotland both east and west. “These aging and often poorly regulated vessels increase the risk of accidents, environmental damage, and hybrid threats,” Merja Kyllönen, a Finnish member of the European Parliament, which funded this report, explained in an email. “Addressing this challenge requires increased maritime surveillance, information sharing, and coordinated action between Baltic and European partners.”

Meit Fohlin, 54, is the president of the Gotland regional council, a sort of mayor of the island where filmmaker Ingmar Bergman is buried. Her office is in a brick building in southern Visby. She knows her island is marked in red among the country’s threatened areas. And she knows that the military alone is not enough. That’s why they’re talking about something unusual in Europe: total defense, meaning the defense provided by weapons, combined with that available to civilians. “We have to be self-sufficient,” Fohlin says, “we’ve always worked toward that, but now we have a mandate at the national level.” A mandate that is especially clear for Stockholm after the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

Gotland relies heavily on external resources, as well as the vagaries of the weather. If there’s a power outage, a communications disruption, or if ferries fail to deliver supplies, the situation becomes critical. “My biggest concern is that we’ll be cut off,” continues Fohlin, of Sweden’s Social Democratic Party. This could happen due to a foreign invasion — a topic more often discussed by military personnel than civilians — sabotage, or a technical failure.

Across from the town hall works Alf Söderman, 57, the director of Civil Defense. His speech is methodical. He was a soldier and knows the troops. He gives a simple example of a possible scenario: “Imagine there’s a war, and the army asks to use all the fuel we have because they need it. You can say yes, but there are also the farmers, who can’t work without gasoline, and therefore can’t feed the military.” With scenarios like this, and with drills and training, Söderman works to ensure that the civilian backbone of Gotland’s defense is ready. “Society has to be robust to manage disasters,” he maintains.

There are three phases to this preparation, which Söderman has written down: the first is one week. Every individual must have what they need (food, water, medicine, energy, etc.) to survive for seven days on their own. Second, any critical infrastructure (schools, government offices, hospitals) must be self-sufficient for two weeks. The third phase concerns the Regional Administrative Board. This board must be able to function for at least 90 days if the island becomes isolated, for whatever reason.

About 12 miles from Visby, a cluster of houses stands beside a narrow road in the Dalhem district. In one of these houses with a gabled roof lives 57-year-old Anelli Sandgren. She is a police officer. Sandgren is cheerful and helpful. Perhaps this is why she actively participates in Stark socken (Strong Villages), an initiative founded by emergency specialist Maja Allard that already reaches 42 of Gotland’s 92 villages, that is, more than 15,000 people. It is the final link in the island’s passive defense, the one that unites neighbors to share resources and fortify their homes in the event of a crisis.

Sandgren speaks of the “awakening of the people.” “We thought the government could fix everything, but that’s not the case.” She says she could endure a first week of isolation with her husband, a Harley-Davidson enthusiast, living in the main living room by the fire of a wood-burning stove, with enough water and food in a large pantry, enough medicine to fill a shopping cart, and an alternative system for waste disposal. Her neighbor, 77-year-old Ingegerd Gabrielsson, would easily survive that week, judging by the supplies in her basement: firewood for cooking, dozens of batteries for the radio, a cabinet full of canned food, a non-electric refrigeration system, and a portable toilet. “There are young people who don’t even know how to use a toilet outside their homes,” Gabrielsson says, perplexed.

They don’t hesitate to talk about a possible Russian invasion, although they admit that many of their neighbors do. “We’re not afraid,” says Sandgren, “but we’re more aware that it could happen.”

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