DEAR READER,

Central and Eastern Europe is full of great newsletters, so why not team up and share them? Last week, Moldova Matters author David Smith approached me with exactly that idea, and I was on board immediately. If you are looking to expand your regional reading list ahead of the Easter break (don’t worry, we’re publishing Brief Eastern Europe as usual next Monday), check out the special section below and discover a few new inbox favorites.

In this week’s top story, which has also been published by New Eastern Europe, we turn to Latvia. Rebecka Pieder looks at how the country and its citizens are preparing for the possibility of a Russian invasion, and how resilience is holding up as the war in Ukraine enters its fifth year.

Enjoy reading this week’s “brief”!

— Giorgi Beroshvili, Editor

When Diana Selecka woke up on February 24th 2022, she was excited. It was her name day. She was looking forward to celebrating with her colleagues in Rezekne, the Latvian border town where she lives, and had even picked out a special white blouse for the occasion. But as she read the news that morning, and learned of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, she put on a black one instead. She has not celebrated her name day since.

The impact of the war in Ukraine, now in its fifth year, has reverberated across the European continent. With their long history of Soviet occupation, Latvians have felt this in an especially deep way. Their response has reached far beyond an increase in military spending and into the fabric of everyday life.

“Now, Russians are saying to Ukrainians that they are like big brothers for the Ukrainian nation,” Selecka said. “No, they are not. And we will never be brothers again.”

Except for a brief stint studying in Russia, Diana has lived her whole life in Rezekne, a city about 50 kilometres from the Russian border. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, she swiftly joined the National Guard, where she has been a member for 31 years. Her daughter followed suit and has been a member for five.

“It is very good to understand that we have this power to defend our country,” Selecka said. “It is real power.”

Since the start of the war, Latvia has been forced to navigate questions about its own survival. While military leaders and international relations experts stop short of calling an invasion imminent, politicians and analysts stressed that depending on the outcome of the war in Ukraine, Latvia could be next.

“As a country and as a society we are really supporting Ukraine very much,” said Jana Simanovska, a member of parliament from the Progressives. “Because we see us really as next on the menu, if Ukraine will be swallowed.”

When walking along the snow-covered cobblestones of Riga, visitors see the Ukrainian flag everywhere. Even in the Latvian parliament, the Saeima, a small Ukrainian flag sits level with the Latvian one on the speaker’s podium. Across from the Russian embassy, a colossal mural depicts Russian President Vladimir Putin, his face grotesquely merged with a skull, in a clear sign of where many in this country stand.

As a NATO member, Latvians take comfort in knowing that an attack on Latvia should trigger a response from all 32 member states, as stipulated in Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty. The Alliance has increased its military presence in the region over the past few years, with Sweden and Finland joining in 2024. But Latvia has placed great emphasis on its own defence, hoping to prevent war by preparing for it.

“If we are ready, then I believe that’s what can stop them,” said Leila Rasima, also a member of parliament from the Progressives. “If we are weak, if we are not ready, for Putin that’s an invitation.”

Latvia has more than doubled defence spending in the last five years, re-introduced military conscription, and launched cultural campaigns to ingrain the message that defence is everyone’s responsibility. The National Guard, or Zemessardze, plans to increase its ranks from 10,000 to 12,000 members by 2027, with each member training for 28 days per year.

While careful to note that she speaks only for herself and not in any official capacity, Selecka described how the National Guard has integrated with society. At their training, she sees neighbours, local shopkeepers and school teachers, all with the common purpose of being ready to defend their homeland should the time come.

“When the war in Ukraine started, a lot of people said they didn’t know what to do,” Selecka said. “What to do, where to go, all these things. And now, our society is ready.”

Latvia has a sweeping defence vision, according to Latvian Armed Forces Colonel Maris Tutins. Formalized by the Latvian Ministry of Defence as comprehensive national defence, the strategy posits that every corner of society must be prepared and resilient when faced with a crisis.

“We want to build a nation in arms,” Tutins said. “Everybody has to understand how to contribute to the defence.”

This extends even to children. The Latvian Youth Guard, or Jaunsardze, a state-sponsored youth organization for Latvians between the ages of ten and 21, encourages patriotism and offers training in first aid, physical fitness, and defence. Every student must study military defence and attend a compulsory summer training camp.

For over a decade, the Latvian National Armed Forces have conducted an annual month-long exercise called Namejs, bringing together all ministries, municipalities, private companies and even the state broadcasting service to stress-test the country’s readiness for crisis, whether this be a natural disaster or war.

“You never are able to be absolutely ready,” Tūtins said. “Because the adversary owns the element of surprise anyway. But you must be as ready as possible.”

Dr. Māris Andžāns, director of the Center for Geopolitical Studies in Riga, painted a measured picture of Latvia’s threat from the East. While Russia has the military capabilities, it is currently focused elsewhere, something that could change quickly depending on the outcome of the war in Ukraine. If Russia were to act, he believes it would likely start small: a move against a border town or village, designed to test NATO’s response.

“They might invade a city, or a town, or a region, and then say, let’s see. Would President Trump risk a nuclear war?” Andžāns said. “Are you ready to die for Daugavpils, or are you ready to die for Narva?”

Both are border cities, with Daugavpils in Latvia and Narva in neighbouring Estonia possessing large Russian-speaking populations. These areas are often mentioned as potential flashpoints between NATO and Russia. But the threat to these communities, Andžāns argued, is not only military.

The more immediate danger comes in the form of disinformation. When Latvia’s large Russian-speaking population seeks out Russian media as a means of connecting with relatives and friends across the border, they enter a very different information space than their Latvian speaking neighbours.

“Russia doesn’t need to do anything special here,” Andžāns said. “We have people who are interested in what Russia has to say, and many people buy Russia’s narrative.”

Tūtins said he sees the information space as inseparable from military effectiveness. If Russia dominates the narrative, he argued, civilian support for the defence effort cannot be guaranteed. Latvia considers control of the information space as a defence priority in its own right.

In Latvia’s eastern border region of Latgale, many live in Russian-dominated information bubbles. The Latvian government has taken steps to lessen propaganda, including banning Russian state television channels. However, social media presents a more complex challenge. The Rezekne municipality civil defence manager Pāvels Savickis calls cybersecurity the most difficult threat his team faces. While his office posts information at bus stops and other public places, it cannot control what people read on their phones.

Selecka, the long-time National Guard soldier in the border town of Rezekne, said she has felt this in her own community. She described how in the immediate aftermath of Russia’s 2022 invasion, some locals posted on social media that they would welcome Putin with flowers if the Russian army came, and that Ukrainians deserved to die. In the four years since the war started, this has changed.

“They are not so loud anymore,” Selecka said of the Russian sympathizers in Latgale. “If somebody thinks this way, they can discuss it with their family in the kitchen, not in a public place. It is forbidden.”

Latvia became the first of the Baltic states to prosecute individuals for wilfully spreading dangerous falsehoods.

A brochure released by the Latvian defence ministry, titled “72 Hours”, instructs citizens on how to navigate the first crucial three days of a potential invasion. Running throughout is an emphasis on avoiding disinformation and using trusted sources. At one point, in all-caps, the 26-page booklet warns:

“ANY INFORMATION ABOUT SURRENDER OR NON-RESISTANCE IS FAKE NEWS.”

The brochure also includes a recommended list of emergency supplies to have at home, such as 12 litres of water per person, canned food for three days, a pre-packed escape bag, and cash for at least a week. It also reminds people to keep pet food and baby supplies on hand.

Selecka keeps a bag packed, her car filled with gas at all times, and has an evacuation plan. She would take her family to their countryside estate, and suspects many of her neighbours would do the same. Latgale sits cornered between Belarus and Russia, and the area’s geographical vulnerability worries her.

Having grown up in Soviet-era Latvia, Selecka recalls the sometimes cruel treatment of Latvians under occupation. While the war in Ukraine added urgency to the comprehensive defence strategy, for Selecka the threat from Russia was never abstract.

“Here in Latvia, we always have this feeling that we are not safe with Russia next to us,” she said. “But nobody talked about it loudly, and now it is different.”

— Rebecka Pieder, Journalist

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