TALLINN — After a nightmarish experience last year crossing the paranoid Ukraine-Russia border, I was nervous about driving alone from Moscow to Estonia’s capital, Tallinn early September to sell my Peugeot, which I had bought there five years ago. Estonia is a NATO member, and with more than 1,000 alliance troops now permanently based there to deter potential Russian aggression, I had dark visions of tanks and electric fences and heavily armed border guards bristling with suspicion: a Checkpoint Charlie from the darkest days of the Cold War.

But the border in southern Estonia near the ancient Russian city of Pskov was a lot more relaxed than my paranoid imagination. It’s just a few aluminum sheds bisecting a gorgeous valley lined with birch and Christmas trees.

Still, as an American citizen driving an Estonian car and with numerous Ukrainian stamps in my passport from having worked as a journalist in Kyiv, it was inevitable that suspicions would be aroused.

I was interviewed in a private room by one of the border guards — a clone of the young officer from the Russia-Ukraine border a year ago, with his buzz cut, tight short-sleeved shirt and wary expression. He was friendly but demanded to know what I had been doing in Ukraine. Admitting that I had been a journalist there didn’t help allay his misgivings. I understood his predicament: Ukraine, Estonia and the United States are all adversaries of Russia. I could easily be a spy, or a provocateur, or both.

Fortunately, my having a valid Russian press accreditation from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Moscow left him no choice but to let me exit Russia without incident. “Beware of the Estonians,” he warned when stamping my passport. “They’re tough on travelers coming from Russia.”

The Estonians were stern and unfriendly, checking for cigarettes and vodka, but having an American passport trumped their misgivings, and I was done in no time.

I hadn’t been to Estonia in over five years and remembered the Russian language being frowned upon as it is in present-day Ukraine, even though a third of Estonia’s 1.5 million citizens are Russian speakers. So, I was surprised when everyone was relaxed and speaking Russian at the Shell gas station. It was the same when I arrived in the capital, Tallinn a few hours later: The blond Estonian receptionist at the hotel spoke fluent Russian to some guests from St. Petersburg, and the menus were in both Russian and Estonian.

Even my Estonian friends were enthused about the new openness toward Russian-Estonians and the Russian language. “I just finished filming a Russian-language TV show set in eastern Estonia,” announced Ken Saan, a friend and Estonian television producer. “It’s going to be a hit on Estonian television.”

Saan admitted that Estonians are now far more accepting of the Russian language, and of the Russian-Estonians in their midst. “Estonians now even go to Narva (a city on the Russian border where a majority are ethnic Russians) for a cultural weekend.” He talked about Vaba Laba, a cutting-edge theater venue in the city that was recently opened in an abandoned Soviet factory.

It’s not just Estonian hipsters, however, heading to the country’s most Russian city for some theater. The progressive Estonian President Kersti Kaljulaid moved her offices to Narva for a few weeks last year to bring more national awareness to the troubled city. “The area will thus get more attention and help break through some of the stereotypes some people still have about Narva,” she said.

“The Estonians looked at the Russians and decided they weren’t that different after all. They’re both white and Christian” — American resident in Estonia

The Estonian President also faced criticism for meeting with Russia’s President Vladimir Putin in Moscow last spring — the first Baltic president to meet with him since Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014. She brushed off her critics, declaring in Moscow that “neighbors should talk, even if we have certain disagreements.”

In many ways, Estonia feels like an alternative-history TV show, where French President Emmanuel Macron’s hopes for a reset with Russia have already happened (the French leader called in August for the relationship to be “profoundly reinvented”). Even the mayor of Estonia’s capital Tallinn, Mikhail Kolvart, is an ethnic Russian — though he does speak fluent Estonian. And while Ukraine has banned most Russian television and media, Estonia has no restrictions on Kremlin media, and even has a flourishing Russian-language publishing industry.

“It’s their common fear of Muslim immigrants,” said an American friend resident in Estonia. “The Estonians looked at the Russians and decided they weren’t that different after all. They’re both white and Christian.”

With a far-right, nationalist and anti-immigrant Conservative People’s Party having entered government last year (its Cabinet members made news by flashing “white power” salutes while being signed in), my friend’s analysis might not be far from the truth. Estonia has accepted just 200 refugees under the EU’s resettlement plan, and public opinion is fiercely opposed to more immigration.

But the real reason for the newfound warmth between Estonian and Russian speakers is the war in eastern Ukraine. Estonians realized that unless they integrate their Russian speakers, their dissatisfaction might turn them into a fifth column and give the Kremlin an excuse to attack their country.

“The Ukraine conflict acted as a wake-up call,” said Kristi Raik, director of the Estonian Foreign Policy Institute at the International Center for Defense and Security in Tallinn, in an interview with Deutsche Welle. It helped focus the nation’s attention on the issue of Russian speakers’ loyalty, she said, adding: “Do they feel at home here? Do they feel loyal to the Estonian state?”

While neighboring Lithuania distributes pamphlets with instructions for dealing with an armed invasion from Russia, Estonians are a lot less spooked these days. Once the most hawkish of the Baltic states in their dealings with Russia, Estonia is now the region’s dove.

Estonia, where citizens can vote and file their taxes on their mobile phones, has always been hailed as the most advanced and tech-savvy of the Eastern European nations. Politicians and think tanks have long studied its example for clues on how to successfully transition from post-communist dystopia and compete in a market economy.

Is Estonia again ahead of the curve in its embrace of its Russian speakers, and non-confrontational stance with Russia?

Though Poland just negotiated with Trump for the addition of 1,000 more American troops to beef up its NATO defenses there, it might be an outlier. Neighboring Hungary, under its President Viktor Orbán, and some in the Czech Republic, have been cozying up to Putin’s Russia for years.

Even Ukraine, which is on the frontline of the war with Russia, is moving from confrontation to dialogue under its new President Volodymyr Zelenskiy. The comedian-turned-politician recently negotiated a high-profile prisoner swap with the Kremlin, and controversially wants Ukrainian media to broadcast in Russian into the war-torn Donbas to win back the hearts and minds of its residents.

While his hard-line predecessor Petro Poroshenko pushed for a military solution to the conflict with Russia, Zelenskiy correctly realizes that Ukraine also needs to win back the allegiance of the region’s traumatized, Russian-speaking residents. He has resumed paying pensions to residents there and wants Ukrainian products back in its stores.

Both Ukraine and Russia have now signaled their willingness to accept Macron’s initiative and attend peace talks in Paris soon to breathe life back into the stalled Minsk Agreement.

Estonia celebrated a hundred years of the founding of its republic last year, and now feels confident enough in its statehood to accept the Russians in its midst and open a dialogue with Moscow. Macron’s stark warning that unless Europe explores ways of “convergence with Russia … Europe will remain the scene of a strategic battle between the United States and Russia” clearly resonates with many in the country.

Whether his message also resonates with Russia’s more paranoid Eastern European neighbors also depends on Putin’s next move. Is Russia serious in withdrawing its troops from east Ukraine and bringing about peace there, so that it can rejoin the G8 and the global community? Given Putin’s growing unpopularity at home and the growing strains on its weak economy by Western sanctions, he might no longer have a choice.

Like with other things in the past, Estonians seems to have figured that out much earlier than their neighbors.

Vijai Maheshwari is a writer and entrepreneur based in Moscow. He tweets at @Vijaimaheshwari.