When the alarm sounds in Tallinn, the Crisis Breakers know what to do. Throughout the last two years, volunteers from across the city administration have tried fire hoses, tested the setup of evacuation tents, and learned how to survive without electricity or running water. These are not professional rescuers – they are teachers, clerks, and planners who decided to prepare for the worst so their neighbours wouldn’t face it alone.
Training for the unexpected
The initiative started in February 2024, when 65 city employees signed up to train for emergencies. “At some point our city understood the need to educate people who are not professional rescuers,” recalls Kerttu Märtin, Chief Officer at the EU and International Relations Office in Tallinn and one of the volunteers.
From the very first sessions, it was clear this was not theory-based training. On Aegna Island, volunteers faced real-life survival tasks alongside Estonia’s Rescue Board, Defence Union and the Red Cross. Later, in a simulation run by the Estonian Academy of Security Sciences, they practised emergency evacuations in a virtual environment.
“It’s a very practical training and a very practical need,” says Märtin. “There are never enough firefighters or rescue experts, and if something happens in several places at once you need this kind of support group.”
Lessons in everyday resilience
The movement grew quickly. In 2025, a second group of 40 volunteers joined, following training in crises communication, mental health, and self-defence. Some faced their first real challenge last April during a large-scale simulation organised by the Estonian Rescue Board, where they helped establish a mobile resilience centre.
Each training builds not just skills but confidence. Volunteers learn first aid and urban survival. They also discover how to set up evacuation centres and even operate firefighting equipment.
The most surprising thing was acknowledging all these small everyday details we are so used to, that can be lost in a minute.
For Märtin, the experience has been eye-opening on a personal level. “The most surprising thing was acknowledging all these small everyday details we are so used to, that can be lost in a minute,” she recalls. “It doesn’t have to be war. It may be a flood or a fire, and suddenly we are without electricity. In a city, if power is gone for a few days, you lose water and sewage. How do you use your toilet? Where do you get water? Even shops and petrol stations won’t work without power.”
She admits she would like to be part of the headquarters team in a crisis. “It’s like a puzzle where all the pieces are up in the air. And some you have to create yourself,” she says of the systematic coordination required.
A model for Europe
While for now the initiative is open only to city employees and funded from the city’s human resources training budget, the lessons are relevant far beyond Tallinn. “What is happening in Europe now with all these natural disasters and floods and fires shows that somewhere, local governments are always dealing with crises,” notes Märtin. “The idea that people should know more and that there should be this kind of semi-trained, semi-professional support could be used in most places in Europe.”
The more trained people you have, the less there’s panic, because they’ll know something they can do.
As the saying goes, better safe than sorry. Märtin encourages colleagues from other cities to build similar training programmes. “I’ve spoken to city officers who don’t want to alarm people by talking about crisis response, but if something happens, then it’s too late. The more trained people you have, the less there’s panic, because they’ll know something they can do.”
Tallinn’s Crisis Breakers remind us that resilience isn’t just about systems and strategies; it starts with ordinary people who care enough to prepare and step up for their community.
