On a sunny afternoon on 7 August, UNHCR brought together Professor of Communication Studies Dr Triin Vihalemm, Pärnu Integration Coordinator Iryna Zotovych, mathematics teacher Celal Yildirim and university student Shorok Alsuleiman on the Cultural Diversity Stage at Estonia’s annual Opinion Festival in Paide to discuss what identity and belonging mean in the context of forced displacement.

Throughout the discussion, personal stories, professional experience and academic insights converged around a common theme: a sense of belonging is not created by leaving the past behind, but by having the opportunity to build a future upon it.

A changing identity

Shorok arrived in Estonia from Syria at the age of 16.

“I feel like an Estonian, but my childhood is Syrian, Arab,” she explains. “I was born, raised and lived in Syria, but I had to leave because of the war. I fled to Türkiye and lived there. I speak Turkish as well and I really like Turkish culture. When I arrived in Estonia, I felt that now it was peaceful. I could build my life and do many things.”

For her, identity is not tied to a single country or culture. Her childhood in Syria, the years she spent in Türkiye and her transition into adulthood in Estonia all form part of who she is today.

Celal arrived in Estonia at a very different stage of life. He already had a family, a career and a strong sense of belonging. Asked whether he feels Turkish, Kurdish or Estonian today, his answer is simple:

“I can say that I am still a human being. It does not matter who you are, whether you are Turkish, Kurdish or Estonian.”

According to Celal, moving to Estonia did not erase his previous identity. “I came here with my culture. And because learning lasts a lifetime, I kept learning,” he says. “I learned how to overcome my prejudices.”

One of those prejudices concerned Estonians themselves.

“When I came to Estonia, I looked up what Estonians were like. It said they were reserved and cold people. But when I started talking to people, I realised they are very good people.”

Iryna arrived in Estonia 15 years ago, long before the full-scale war in Ukraine. At the time, around 5,000 Ukrainian citizens lived in Estonia. Today, that number has grown to tens of thousands. As Pärnu’s Integration Coordinator, she sees that Ukrainians often adapt faster today than she did when she first arrived, but the war has also made preserving culture and identity even more important.

“When people come to a foreign country and start protecting their culture, it becomes a safe place for them,” she says. “A place they can come to and feel protected. And in today’s situation, that feeling is very important.”

According to Professor Triin Vihalemm, integration does not mean replacing one identity with another. Rather, a sense of belonging develops when people are able to use their experiences, knowledge and skills in a new society and feel that they are valued.

Changing roles

Forced displacement does not only affect identity. It often changes a person’s role within their family, community and society.

Most of the refugees arriving from Ukraine were women and children. Many suddenly found themselves having to cope alone with practical challenges while knowing that loved ones remained in a war zone.

“When there is nobody beside you and you feel completely alone, while at the same time your home has been bombed, your family is no longer whole and your husband is in danger, what do you do?” Iryna asks. “The pressure comes from every direction. It is incredibly difficult.”

Over time, many people found support in one another.

“They started gathering, meeting, talking and sharing their worries and everything that was happening in their lives. They realised they were no longer alone. That is a very important moment because they understand that they can cope together.”

For Shorok, arriving in Estonia meant an opportunity to take on entirely new roles and shape a future that would not have been possible because of war.

“Estonia gave us so many opportunities, so many opportunities,” she says. “We came here and everyone helped us.”

Together with her parents and siblings, she had to learn a new language, adapt to a new education system and start over. Today, Shorok studies at the Estonian University of Life Sciences, while her sister has graduated from Tallinn University.

“I am very happy that I have been able to do so many things here in Estonia,” she says. “In war, nobody can give people opportunities. Everyone’s goal is simply to survive.”

Over the years, Celal’s life in Estonia has taken on new dimensions. Alongside his work as a mathematics teacher, he plays an active role in building bridges between communities and supporting integration.

Through the NGO Satu, he has helped bring together people from different backgrounds and create opportunities for encounters that might otherwise never happen. In one project, volunteers visited elderly people living alone. This was how Celal met 84-year-old Linda.

“Her relatives had told her not to meet that Turkish man,” he recalls laughing “But Linda decided she wanted to meet anyway.”

The project ended long ago, but their friendship remains.

“We call her our grandmother because we cannot go back to Türkiye. My children call Linda their grandmother.”

Professor Triin Vihalemm notes that successful adaptation depends on more than language skills or formal support services. Equally important are the skills that help people build relationships, solve problems and navigate change.

“Language skills are important, but they are not the only thing,” she explains. “These stories showed the importance of communication skills, learning skills, problem-solving skills and the ability to receive feedback.”

Such skills become especially important when people are rebuilding their lives and adapting in their new roles.

“The stronger these general skills are, the more successful language learning and adaptation can be,” she says.

According to Vihalemm, people need to recognise not only what they already know, but also what they are capable of learning and contributing to a new environment. The ability to adapt while drawing on previous experiences helps people find their place in a new society

Community as a bridge

Throughout the discussion, the importance of community emerged repeatedly. All panelists stressed that belonging to a community does not stand in the way of integration. In many cases, it makes integration possible.

Celal does not see community as the opposite of integration. In his view, its most important purpose is to help people adapt.

“Adaptation is the main goal of our community,” he says. “Sometimes people simply do not know how to adapt. A community can support them in that.”

He explains that from the very beginning they were taught to see their new country as home.

“If we live in another country, then that is our new homeland. We truly see it that way. It is our homeland because this is where we live now.”

For that reason, the community organises events that bring Estonians and newcomers together while introducing people to Estonian culture and traditions.

“When you know the culture and respect the culture, you eventually adapt and live better,” says Celal. “I do not think community is a threat. If people believe in adaptation, it works.”

Iryna has observed a similar transformation in Pärnu. What began as support networks created out of necessity have gradually evolved into broader community spaces.

“At first there was only the Ukrainian Centre, and people came because they needed help,” she says. “Now we learn from one another, and everyone can take part, regardless of where they come from.”

According to her, people are no longer only looking for support. Increasingly, they want to better understand the society they have become part of. A community survey showed that people were most interested not in preserving their own culture, but in learning about Estonian life.

“What surprised me most was that people wanted to know how an ordinary Estonian lives,” she says. “What their traditions are, what they do and what interests them.”

At the same time, Iryna sees communities enriching the host society as well.

“We no longer talk only about how to support Ukrainians,” she says. “We talk more about how Ukrainians themselves can contribute to the development of Pärnu or Estonia. New people arrive with new perspectives and experiences, and they can share them.”

For younger people, community boundaries can be even more fluid. Shorok says she has relatively few Arab or Estonian friends in Estonia. Instead, her social circle includes people from many different backgrounds.

“My friends are very diverse. Turks, Arabs, Estonians and many others,” she says. “I cannot say that I have only Estonian friends or only Arab friends.”

At times, living between several worlds can be challenging.

“For my Arab friends, I am too Estonian. For Estonians, I am too Arab,” she says. “I cannot decide whether I am Estonian or Arab.”

Yet Estonia is unquestionably home.

“I have Estonian citizenship now and I am very proud of it. Today I can say that I am Estonian.”

According to Professor Vihalemm, research shows that community ties and connections with local people are not mutually exclusive.

On the contrary, they complement each other. While communities provide safety and support, relationships with members of the host society help build trust, improve language skills and create opportunities for participation.

The opportunity to dream

At the end of the discussion, participants were asked what a successfully rebuilt life means to them.

Shorok’s answer was straightforward:

“I see my future in Estonia. All of my future plans are in Estonia.”

For Iryna, rebuilding a life means something equally simple and equally important.

“It is a feeling of safety. The possibility to live, to work, to study, to dream and to make plans.”

Celal’s answer brought the conversation back to human connections. He recalled how, after moving to Estonia, his family waited for neighbours to come and welcome them, as was customary in his home country. When that did not happen, he decided to take the initiative himself.

“It was Christmas and I thought: I need to do something. I need to get to know them,” he said. He bought small gifts, knocked on his neighbours’ doors and introduced himself. “It went very well and we became friends.”

In his view, this shows that it is not difficult to become friends with Estonians, and that a sense of belonging is often built through small, everyday interactions.

According to Professor Vihalemm, the stories shared by all the panelists highlighted different pathways to rebuilding a life in a new country. For some, it means pursuing education. For others, helping fellow community members or building new social networks. What they all have in common is the opportunity to contribute, to belong and to look ahead.

The stories shared in Paide served as a reminder that forced displacement affects every aspect of a person’s life. Roles change, relationships evolve and identities are reshaped. Yet with safety, opportunity and human connection, something new can emerge: not just a new life, but a renewed sense of belonging.

A social campaign in July and August encouraged people to reflect on this question. Campaign materials and calls to action could be seen on the streets of several cities, on TV, on the radio, and across social media. What makes someone an Estonian at heart? What does it even mean, and why do we need to talk about it?

Commissioned by the Ministry of Culture, the ‘Estonian at Heart’ social campaign is part of a broader initiative to support social cohesion. Society achieves cohesion and stability when all individuals – regardless of their native language or cultural background – mutually accept and respect one another, share a sense of belonging, work together, and hold common values. Various initiatives that promote social cohesion are essential pieces of the bigger picture, working together to complement one another. For example, newly arrived immigrants are provided with an adaptation programme and support services, and language learning opportunities and activities supporting language learning are designed for people of different language and cultural backgrounds, helping them find their way to Estonian culture. Joint initiatives also play an important role, bringing different people and communities together and helping to establish contacts between those who otherwise would not meet. In the information space, various media projects and campaigns provide additional support to all of this.

The core message of the ‘Estonian at Heart’ social campaign highlighted an emotional connection with Estonia – a feeling that comes from the heart. The sense of being Estonian does not arise solely from one’s linguistic, cultural, or ethnic background. It stems from a deep emotional connection with the country, its nature, values, culture, people, and identity.

Once Estonia becomes a home you hold dear, you carry it in your heart. Everyone has their own unique thing that creates a sense of home for them. Whether it is nature, choir singing, literature, or perhaps curd snacks, sprats, and Midsummer, blending into a cultural space and understanding it comes through people and communication.

A cohesive society and a shared sense of belonging represent our collective value, common goal, and mutual responsibility. We see the diverse cultural backgrounds of the people around us, yet we realize just how much we have in common – especially when it comes to Estonia. We listen to others’ stories and share our own in return. We do things together, keeping Estonia in our hearts.

The ‘Estonian at Heart’ social campaign is produced by Optimist Creative. The campaign is co-funded by the European Union. 

If you have ever searched online for “life in Estonia,” “moving to Estonia” or “Estonian culture,” chances are you have come across Manan Anwar. For years, his YouTube videos and articles have helped newcomers make sense of life in this small Baltic country. Behind that extensive archive of advice, however, is someone who arrived in Estonia knowing very little about what awaited him.

Originally from Pakistan, Manan’s journey to Estonia began in 2014. An engineer by profession, he was not looking for a fairytale or a lifelong home. He was simply looking for a Master’s degree.

“I was fortunate enough to get an Erasmus scholarship to Estonia. Coming here was not something I had planned; I did not know much about Estonia,” Manan explains. “I come across a lot of people who tell me they fell in love with Estonia and then came to live here. I wasn’t like that.”

A Fish Out of Water

The cultural leap from the vibrant hustle of Pakistan to the quiet reserve of Estonia was as wide as it gets. For Manan, the two environments felt “diametrically opposite”.

“Here you have so much silence and quietness. In Pakistan, everywhere you go you have noise, hustle and bustle, and crowds. I joke sometimes that I was like a fish out of water—and then I somehow learned to live without it,” he says.

The adjustment was a physical and emotional marathon. The legendary Estonian winters and the stoic nature of the locals proved to be his steepest hurdles. “Nobody warned me about how long and dark the winter was going to be. And people were so quiet, introverted and distant. It was a really big struggle, and I think I changed myself a lot in order to live here and adapt.”

What was meant to be a temporary academic stay soon blossomed into a career. Before he even reached his final semester, Manan landed a job in automotive electronics. He stayed with the company for several years, gradually absorbing the local way of life. “If there are any Estonian values that make somebody an Estonian, aside from appearance, I think all of those were just injected into me,” he laughs.

From Figuring It Out to Helping Others

In 2014, the "information vacuum" for foreigners in Estonia was real. Everyday logistics that locals took for granted were mysteries to newcomers. Manan spent his early years learning through trial and error, a process that sparked his desire to build a bridge for others.

“I was figuring things out on my own, and I thought it would be useful to share what I learned so that others wouldn’t have to go through the same process.”

This mission turned him into a prolific content creator. He began writing for major news portals and eventually built a YouTube channel that covers everything from the nuances of the Estonian language to the practicalities of winter gear. “I’m a stubborn guy,” he says with a smile. “I did it for a very long time. I covered almost everything that you need to know in Estonia.”

However, sharing his story wasn't just about being helpful—it was also a survival strategy. Moving from a massive social circle in Pakistan to starting from zero in Estonia had taken a toll on his mental health. “I started sharing my thoughts, ideas and feelings. I got a lot of pushback as well, but also a lot of acceptance. It made me feel that I wasn’t alone.”

Rewiring the Brain: The Language Journey

For Manan, the most profound step in his integration was learning the language. He views learning Estonian as more than just a communication tool; he sees it as a psychological transformation. He now advises anyone staying longer than a month to begin immediately.

“It’s not just about the language; it’s something about your neural programming,” he explains. “When you speak Estonian, you sort of start to think in an Estonian way and you start to understand a little bit more. I don’t know what sort of magic it is, but it does help.”

His breakthrough came through an Integration Foundation language course, where the emphasis was on total immersion. “The Integration Foundation course was the best because they fully immersed you. You weren’t allowed to talk in English. The first few times were really unnerving—I felt like the stupidest person there. I even wrote a really long email asking them to please take it slow and be easy on me. But eventually, I got used to the approach and it became a really good learning experience.”

The program was led by Mall Pesti, co-author of one of Estonia’s most beloved language-learning books, E nagu Eesti. “I also got to meet her and that was truly a fan moment for me,” Manan says. The two also took a photo together to mark the occasion.

Earning the Blue-Black-and-White

In 2024, after a decade of building a life in Estonia, Manan officially became an Estonian citizen. The process required patience: years of residence and work, the B1 language exam, the citizenship test and, in his case, renouncing his Pakistani citizenship. For Manan, the fact that he had to fight for it made the result even more meaningful.

“The citizenship I was born with in Pakistan wasn’t something I had to earn—I simply had it by birth. But with Estonian citizenship, you really feel that you’ve earned it.”

For Manan, the B1 language exam was the most stressful part. When the notification of passing the exam finally arrived, it was a moment of pure joy. “I know so many people who have taken the test two, three or four times and keep missing it by one or two points. Thankfully, I passed on my first attempt. It was one of the happiest emails of my life.”

While he treasures his passport, he does have one wish for future new citizens: a sense of occasion. “You spend eight or nine years working towards something, and then you go to the Police and Border Guard Board, they hand you a packet across the desk, and that’s it,” he laughs. “I wish Estonia had a citizenship ceremony or an oath-taking ceremony. It would make the moment feel much more meaningful.”

Estonia Is Not for Everyone

Despite his deep attachment to his adopted home, Manan remains a realist. He warns that the country is a “niche product” and isn't a universal fit for every personality.

“Estonia is a very niche thing. It’s not for everybody. If you need a lot of stimulation, crowds, noise and hustle, then Estonia is probably not for you. You have to understand what your goals are. What do you want to achieve from being in Estonia, and what are the things you’re willing to give up for that? There is a price to moving anywhere.”

While the career ceiling can be hit quickly in a small country, Manan highlights the unparalleled quality of life for families. “If I had children, Estonia would be one of the few places where I would want to raise a family. It’s very well suited for that.”

Estonianized to the Core

Today, Manan jokes that he has become deeply ‘Estonianized’. He values his privacy, instinctively keeps his distance at bus stops, and has fully embraced the tradition of the sauna.

“Sauna is a completely opposite thing to what Estonia is. You sit in a dark, hot box together, naked with strangers, smushed together. It seemed so weird in the beginning, but now I really love sauna. It sort of balances the extreme of being an Estonian.”

He has noticed the same change in smaller everyday habits.

“Even before COVID, I remember looking at people waiting at bus stops and train stations, perfectly spaced apart. I’m sure you could take a ruler and measure it—and it would be two metres apart. But eventually, I was doing the same thing. It just felt perfectly normal.”

Perhaps that is the clearest sign of how much Estonia has become part of him. Recently, he was asked a question that made him reflect: over all these years, who has changed more—Estonia or him? His answer is not entirely clear-cut. Estonia has changed, but so has he. The habits that once felt unfamiliar now come naturally.

Right now, Manan does not have a grand plan for what the future holds. He has never been one for grand plans. He prefers to take things as they come. But whatever the next chapter may bring, Estonia will always remain part of his story.

“I’m an Estonian citizen; I’m attached to this country. Estonia will always be part of me, wherever life may take me,” he says.

The Settle in Estonia Programme is a free educational programme provided by the Estonian state which is intended to help the foreigners who have arrived in Estonia to adapt and become accustomed to local life more easily. We offer courses for people who have come to live or study in Estonia and have lived here for less than 5 years. For example, war refugees to whom Estonia offers international or temporary protection, as well as people who have come to Estonia to work or do business here or relocate with their family member. The adaptation program The Settle in Estonia Programme is free for participants. We offer language training and other courses to help you cope with everyday life in Estonia. Read more and register: https://integratsioon.ee/en/kohanemine. The adaptation programme is co-funded by the European Union and the state budget.