I learned about the Irbene telescope quite late—less than 10 years ago, perhaps. Once I read up on the site and found the scientists' webpage, my travel destination became clear. To join a tour, one had to register in advance. I did just that, and soon my son and I set off on a journey to the mysterious Courland region of Latvia. I remember being struck by the vast forests and the sparse population—a contrast that seemed even more striking when considering the area's history. During World War II, the German Army Group North was cornered here, putting up a fierce resistance alongside Latvian forces.
Upon arriving in this wooded area and getting in touch with the scientist who was to lead the tour, we began our journey by plunging into a tunnel!
One has to walk up to 700 meters through this tunnel. I remember that distinct sensation perfectly: the dampness, the echo, and the realization of the sheer scale of the secrecy that governed everything here. While walking, one had to watch one’s head, as various cables and pipes remained in place. This tunnel was not merely a convenient underground passageway—it served several critical military and technological functions. During the Cold War, U.S. reconnaissance satellites and Lockheed U-2 aircraft constantly photographed Soviet territory, tracking any movement of troops. If dozens of engineers and technicians had walked openly from the military compound and the central bunker toward the telescopes several times a day, Western intelligence would have immediately grasped that this forest concealed a massive strategic facility, rather than a simple radar station. The underground tunnel functioned as the primary conduit for the entire complex’s "nervous system." Thousands of meters of specialized cabling ran through it, connecting the central control building—which housed massive Cold War-era computing systems—to the RT-32 and RT-16 telescopes. These cables had to be protected against any external interference, moisture, and, most importantly, the risk of sabotage or physical damage. Moreover, during winters in Courland, when the temperature would drop well below zero, a more stable temperature was maintained inside the tunnel—a condition necessary to preserve the sensitivity of certain equipment.
Soviet strategists designed Irbene with the expectation that the Cold War could escalate into a nuclear conflict at any moment. The tunnel system featured airtight doors and was connected to underground shelters (bunkers). Today, following modernization by VIRAC scientists, parts of this infrastructure have been refurbished and adapted for tourists—with the installation of lighting and the cleaning of walls—to allow for a safe showcase of the sheer scale of this Soviet engineering. That said, before its official adaptation, the site was significantly darker, damper, and far more intriguing.
The experience of emerging into the daylight after traversing a long, low, and dark tunnel—where one had to walk hunched over, constantly wary of striking one’s head against ceiling structures or pipes—only to be met by a massive white dish 32 meters in diameter (roughly the height of a 10-story building) towering above, is simply indescribable. This stark contrast in scale perfectly illustrates the "gigantomania" characteristic of Soviet engineering.
The site’s official designation in the past was the "Zvyozdochka" (Russian: Звёздочка, meaning "Little Star") Space Intelligence Station—military unit No. 51429—also known by the codename "Ventspils-8." Technical specifications of the giant (RT-32): an antenna diameter of 32 meters and a structural weight of 600 tons; it is constructed from a special metal that does not deform under significant temperature fluctuations.
Technical specifications of the "little brother" (RT-16): an antenna diameter of 16 meters (during the Soviet era, it was used for more dynamic satellite tracking, while the RT-32 captured weaker signals).
From an intelligence perspective, the complex was a highly successful strategic asset. Built between 1967 and 1974, the RT-32 telescope was the eighth largest in the world and the largest in Northern Europe. Its massive 600-ton dish made it possible to capture extremely faint, distant signals in the centimeter-wavelength range. Together with the RT-16 (16-meter) and RT-8 (8-meter) antennas—referred to in Soviet military documents as *Saturn*, *Pluton*, and *Uran*—the station functioned as a giant ear. It enabled the Soviet Navy to intercept diplomatic communications from NATO countries and satellite broadcasts, as well as to monitor communications involving submarines and military bases across Europe and the Atlantic Ocean. To ensure the station operated without interference, a closed military town was established deep within the forests of Courland. About 2,000–3,000 people—officers, scientists, and their families—lived and worked here in complete secrecy. They had their own school, concert hall, and shops, and were forbidden from interacting with the local Latvian population. The station’s primary mission was to spy on Western nations. Its telescopes were used to intercept satellite signals, eavesdrop on telephone conversations, and monitor communications between the United States and NATO member states in Europe, as well as to track submarines and military bases. The telescopes at Irbene (RT-32 and RT-16) are parabolic antennas designed to receive signals from space and the atmosphere. During the Cold War, they did not track the submarines themselves while they were underwater; rather, they intercepted satellite and radio transmissions through which the U.S. and NATO command issued orders to their fleets and bases. Water blocks high-frequency radio waves. Today, submarines in the Baltic Sea are tracked using sonar (acoustic systems), magnetic anomaly detectors (MAD), and specialized reconnaissance aircraft or vessels. The laws of physics simply make it impossible for satellite dishes—like those at Irbene—to "see" what is happening underwater.
Having emerged from the tunnel, still reeling from the experience, and with our adrenaline levels finally beginning to subside, we continue our exploration—ascending into the interior of the telescope. Getting inside the RT-32 telescope itself is an even rarer experience. The spaces beneath the dish and within the tower house impressive engineering solutions. The telescope’s rotation mechanisms—its azimuthal system—are monumental. To point a 600-ton metal structure toward any specific point in the sky with millimeter precision requires gears so large that a human standing next to them appears tiny. The former control rooms, once used by Soviet military operators, now house modern computer equipment, cryogenic signal amplifiers (cooled by liquid helium to near absolute zero to eliminate thermal interference), and contemporary monitors that display space data in real time.
The Irbene facility was only publicly exposed in 1993—two years after the restoration of Latvia’s independence and just one year before the withdrawal of the Russian military from the country. Until then, the station did not exist on any official maps, and local residents knew only that there was a restricted military zone in the forests, hidden behind barbed wire. When Latvian officials, who were overseeing the withdrawal of the Russian military, finally gained access to the site, they were stunned to discover massive satellite dishes deep in the forest—structures whose very existence had been unknown to the state.
Realizing that the facility would have to be handed over to Latvia, the departing specialists from the Russian Federal Security Service (FSB) and the military decided not to leave behind a functional espionage center. They dismantled and removed the smallest antenna, the RT-8. They did not have time to remove the larger RT-32 and RT-16 antennas, so they sabotaged them: they severed cables, poured acid into the electric motors, and drove nails into the electronic components. Furthermore, all documentation related to the station was either taken away or destroyed.
Some Latvian politicians suggested simply blowing up the telescopes. However, local astronomers and scientists recognized the value of these installations and took them under their own control. Over the course of several decades, with the help of European Union funding, the antennas were fully restored and transformed into the Ventspils International Radio Astronomy Centre (VIRAC). Although the telescopes are now used for space research, the actual data regarding exactly what the Soviets managed to intercept over those decades—and which NATO secrets were captured at Irbene—remains classified in Moscow’s archives.
While the Latvian Ministry of Defence has entered into a cooperation agreement with the centre, this partnership focuses exclusively on the development of secure satellite communications and space surveillance (for instance, ensuring that Russian satellites are not spying on the region from above) rather than on tactical intelligence-gathering in the Baltic Sea.
Today, the Baltic Sea—often referred to as a "NATO lake" following the accession of Sweden and Finland to the alliance—is monitored by entirely different, modern systems. These include coastal radar installations operated by NATO member states (including the Baltic nations), anti-submarine vessels, maritime drones, and advanced sonar networks. These systems track every movement of the Russian fleet in real time, far more effectively than any aging Soviet-era radar dish ever could.
The Latvian military does not use the Irbene telescopes to transmit messages; instead, it employs them as space surveillance radars. To ensure uninterrupted military communications, it is essential to know whether Russian "killer satellites" or spy craft are approaching Allied communications satellites in space. The RT-32 telescope in Irbene is capable of detecting and tracking objects in orbit. In the Kaliningrad region and over the Baltic Sea, Russia actively employs electronic warfare (EW) systems that jam GPS and satellite communication signals—an issue frequently encountered even by civilian aircraft. Such powerful telescopes help pinpoint the source of this interference, allowing military forces to switch their communications to different frequencies.
Quantum Communication
This represents the future of secure communication—a field of active interest for the defense ministries of Latvia and other NATO member states. In the future, traditional digital encryption could be compromised by supercomputers. Quantum encryption utilizes light particles (photons). According to the laws of physics, any attempt to "eavesdrop" on or intercept a quantum signal alters the particle itself; the system instantly detects the intrusion, and the information is destroyed. Establishing such networks between the ground and satellites requires highly precise optical and radio systems. VIRAC scientists possess the technical infrastructure that can be adapted for testing these future military technologies.
Does Irbene perform an intelligence-gathering function? Indirectly—yes; however, this is not called "espionage," but rather "Space Situational Awareness." While the telescope does not directly track the movement of troops on the ground, it plays a crucial role in space-based defense intelligence. In cooperation with the Latvian Ministry of Defence, scientists at VIRAC use telescopes to monitor activity directly above our region. They track the orbits and maneuvers of satellites belonging to hostile states (for example, to determine in advance when a Russian reconnaissance satellite will pass over the Baltic states).
It also helps detect the sources of electronic warfare—specifically when Russia, operating from the Kaliningrad region, carries out large-scale jamming of GPS and radio signals across the Baltic Sea region.
Do the Baltic states possess their own reconnaissance satellites?
Currently, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia do not have their own sovereign network of military reconnaissance satellites.
Developing and maintaining a constellation of optical or radar (SAR) satellites capable of transmitting high-resolution, real-time imagery represents an excessive financial and technical burden for small nations. Nevertheless, the Baltic states address this challenge through other means.
Strategy of Lithuania and Its Neighbors: Partnerships and Procurement
Instead of developing their own military satellites, the Baltic states employ a hybrid model: they purchase data from commercial operators (such as the Finnish-Polish company ICEYE) and rely on assets shared by major NATO allies (the US and France).
Lithuania is highly active in the field of space defense. For instance, the Lithuanian Ministry of National Defence has signed a strategic agreement worth €2.5 million with Luxembourg to develop secure military satellite communication capabilities. This allows the Lithuanian Armed Forces to utilize advanced infrastructure without the need to launch expensive military hardware into space themselves.
Historical Context: Nano-satellites of the Baltic States
The Baltic states have successfully launched satellites for scientific and technological demonstration purposes; while these satellites carried cameras, their function was strictly civilian or educational.
In 2017, Latvia launched its first satellite, "Venta-1." Its primary mission was to test Automatic Identification Systems (AIS) for vessels and capture images of the Earth; however, as a small nano-satellite, it was entirely unsuitable for military reconnaissance.
As early as 2014, Lithuania launched its first satellites, "LituanicaSAT-1" and "LitSat-1." This experience laid the foundation for Lithuanian space technology companies—such as Kongsberg NanoAvionics and the laser communication developer Astrolight—which now build satellite platforms and laser communication systems for clients worldwide, including for defense projects.
As the war in Ukraine has demonstrated that satellite intelligence is a critical element of modern warfare, the Baltic states are now part of the "Eastern Flank Deterrence Initiative." Through this initiative, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia receive high-quality, real-time satellite imagery, radar data, and signals intelligence (SIGINT) from their allies. This is complemented by a dense network of ground-based sensors and reconnaissance drones along the border, creating an integrated regional defense shield.
When was this station exposed?
The Irbene facility was only publicly exposed in 1993—two years after the restoration of Latvia’s independence and just one year before the withdrawal of the Russian military from the country. Until then, the station did not exist on any official maps; local residents knew only that there was a restricted military zone in the forests, hidden behind barbed wire. When Latvian officials, who were overseeing the withdrawal of the Russian military, finally gained permission to enter the site, they were stunned to discover massive satellite dishes deep in the forest—structures whose very existence had been unknown to the state. The period of 1993–1994 marked a sharp turning point in the station’s history, shifting from a site of strictly military espionage to one dedicated to open, civilian scientific research. Realizing that the facility would have to be handed over to Latvia, the departing specialists from the Russian Federal Security Service (FSB) and the military decided not to leave behind a functional espionage center. They dismantled and removed the smallest antenna, the RT-8. Lacking the time to remove the larger RT-32 and RT-16 antennas, they sabotaged them: they severed cables, poured acid into the electric motors, and drove nails into the electronic units. Furthermore, all documentation related to the station was either taken away or destroyed. The Fate of Military Secrets: Although the telescopes themselves now serve the purpose of space research, the actual data regarding exactly what the Soviets managed to intercept over those decades—and which NATO secrets were captured at Irbene—remain classified in Moscow’s archives to this day.
In summary, this former tool of espionage now serves peaceful scientific endeavors (such as tracking space debris and conducting astrophysics research), while still maintaining an indirect defensive function through the monitoring of regional airspace. Perhaps this is why visitors to the center are required to register.














