Is Latvia ready for war?

On January 13th, as dusk settled over Riga, Artur Savelyev, an employee at Riga Airport, glanced out the window and caught sight of a drone in flight. He promptly contacted security, who quickly discovered it was neither an airport drone, nor was there any record of its ownership. What was even more concerning was that the airport radar had failed to detect it. A few hours later, as state police officers patrolled the airport grounds, more drones appeared – again slipping past the radar. According to the director of the Civil Aviation Agency, this radar is actually not designed to identify drones. Months later, it is still unknown whether the state police found the drone operators.

Riga Airport lies just under 300 kilometres from the Russian border and recent years have brought a string of sabotage incidents across the country. In some of them Russian traces are found or Russian special services are suspected. The arson attack against the Museum of Occupation in Riga; the desecration of a monument in Džūkste; disruptions in the GPS system; Russian drones flying into Latvia; cyberattacks on business; other arson attempts – all serve as reminders of an environment where tension lingers. According to Latvian counterintelligence, the risks are only growing every year. It assumes that in 2025 we should not expect an attack by Russia on NATO countries, because its military is focused on the war against Ukraine. However, if that conflict freezes and NATO does not rearm, then an attack is quite possible in the next five years. Is Latvia ready for such a scenario?

Dragon’s teeth and 303 million euros

After Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, interest in Latvia’s Zemessardze, the national guard, sharply increased. This institution, an echo of Latvia’s 20th-century volunteer traditions, allows citizens to continue working their jobs while attending military training in their free time. In 2022 three times more people joined the Zemessardze than in the previous year. The volunteers are diverse: not all of them are in good physical shape and are ready to literally fight in the trenches – some can do various administrative work, without which the direct fighting part of the army cannot function.

The form and function of Latvia’s preparations have become a focal point for security thinkers. Retired General Karlis Kreslinsh is convinced that the emphasis should not be on the trenches and not on preparing for a war like the one we see in Ukraine – with bombings and missile attacks. According to him, Latvia needs to prepare itself for a war not of the 20th, but of the 21st century, where cyberattacks are performed, and drones and robotic systems are used. This would be a conflict where the enemy does not hit with missiles but makes a seemingly peaceful life chaotic and unbearable.

Latvia’s leadership, while acknowledging these new risks, is primarily engaged in the physical fortification of the country's borders. In spring 2024 the Cabinet of Ministers set the country on a path to physically reinforce its eastern frontier. In Daugavpils, a city with its own complex historical links to Russia, a factory began turning out 75 reinforced concrete anti-tank “dragon’s teeth” every day, with a goal of producing 4,500 in total. In constructing these lines, Latvia has joined the other Baltic states in a visible show of resolve, reminiscent of the concrete barriers etched into European landscapes during the 20th century’s great wars. In total, the adopted anti-mobility plan envisages the allocation of up to 303 million euros over the course of five years.

This policy converges with other projects: the ministry of defence is stockpiling not only dragon’s teeth and roadblocks in the border zone, but also anti-tank “hedgehogs”, barbed wire, concrete blocks and baskets for Hesco bastions. This fortification should become part of the future Baltic defence line. It should have strongholds for the army with closed firing points, as well as obstacles for the enemy, anti-tank ditches, mines and ammunition depots. Michael DiChianna, a fellow at the Institute of World Policy, contextualizes this layered approach: “Defence is now the major advantage. With modern technologies, the battlefield is visible from above all the time. Fortifications help resist and delay.”

Yet these physical measures prompt a national debate. In an age marked by hybrid warfare, drone swarms, cyberattacks, and the distortion of daily life, is reliance on battlements – and more divisively, anti-personnel mines – the optimal strategy? The answer, in practice, seems ambivalent: both modernization and the reinforcement of old tactics proceed in parallel. This complexity only deepened recently, when parliament made a final decision to withdraw from the Ottawa Convention banning anti-personnel mines. The head of the parliamentary foreign affairs committee, Inara Murniece, said that this decision was based on the opinion of military experts from Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Poland and Finland, who believe that the possibility of using anti-personnel mines will additionally protect the security of Latvia and those living in the east of the country.

“Of course, the humanitarian aspect is also taken into account. If mines are installed, they will be very strictly guarded, these places will be marked, and everything will be done to prevent people from accidentally ending up in these minefields. By withdrawing from the convention, we are very clearly telling the potential aggressor – Latvia will defend itself,” she added.

This decision sparked heated debate. Fourteen politicians from the opposition parties "Stability!" and "Latvia First" voted against Riga's withdrawal from the Ottawa Convention. Both of these parties are often accused of lobbying for Russian interests in Latvia. In total, 66 other deputies, including those from the Green Party, voted in favour of using anti-personnel mines again. The international response was unequivocal. Maja Brehm, a representative of the International Committee of the Red Cross, expressed concern about the decision: “The vast majority of victims, more than 80 per cent of those injured or killed by anti-personnel mines, are civilians. People who are not involved in hostilities. Mines react to anyone who steps on them. Using anti-personnel mines is a destructive choice. Even if they are initially laid only on the front line, over time the mines can move, for example due to flooding. And the front line can shift too.”

Latvia thus finds itself at the intersection of security necessity and its humanitarian commitments – mirroring the dilemmas that faced other NATO frontiers in past decades.

Emergency suitcase and shelters

While military planners build new lines in the forests and fields, public campaigns focus on civilian resilience. Shortly after the outbreak of the war in Ukraine, the “72 hours” campaign was launched in Latvia, with officials, NGOs and the media urging residents to be ready for a crisis by packing an emergency suitcase. Recommendations were familiar: stock up on drinking water; know local sources; and purchase purification tablets, non-perishable food, medicines, disinfectants, bandages, scissors, flashlights and other essentials. The idea behind the campaign is to equip people to survive the first three days of a major emergency without outside help, the window officials need to make further recommendations based on reality.

Such preparedness reflects both realism and the limited promise of rapid state intervention. In 2023 the state fire and rescue service surveyed public attitudes toward possible evacuation. Forty-seven per cent of respondents said they planned to go to relatives or friends, while 31 per cent said they were ready to use the housing offered to them by the local government. At the same time, five per cent planned to stay at home, four per cent would move to a hotel, and another 13 per cent said that other accommodation options would be available to them. Rescuers are convinced that this survey should help local authorities understand what residents plan to do in the event of a crisis and what resources the state should best use so that its proposals coincide with what citizens are ready for.

Beyond individual plans, structural vulnerabilities remain glaring. In autumn 2024, evacuation drills took place in Riga, with volunteers bussed from two city districts across the Daugava river to a new accommodation site. While evacuation plans exist for Riga, their details are naturally confidential. However, Latvia’s shelter infrastructure is woefully inadequate. Riga has shelters for just over 200,000 people, leaving over 450,000 with nowhere to go.

This stark shortfall is not accidental. Latvia’s situation is the result of a 2008 decision to abandon and liquidate many shelters. The ministry of internal affairs claims that they were not created for the general public: “They were not created so that the public, ordinary people could save themselves. The main target is the army, the elite, it was not for the public,” said the minister's adviser Linda Curika. 

However, in 2022, when Russia began a full-scale war against Ukraine, it was even worse. At that time, the representative of the Riga municipal police Toms Sadovskis said that there was not a single functioning bomb shelter in the city. The remaining historical shelters were mostly resold into private ownership and used as warehouses. This year, seven million euros have been allocated for equipping shelters in Riga. It is expected that this money will be enough to equip about 150 shelters in the city in the coming years.

Such figures, in a capital of nearly 650,000, illustrate the profound challenge Latvia faces in translating lessons from Ukraine into viable urban protections. Even as new funds are mobilized, experts point out that full coverage remains a distant prospect.

The government is not trusted

Physical preparedness is only effective with public engagement and trust. A recent survey commissioned by the state chancellery showed that 74.9 per cent of Latvians believe that the country is in a serious crisis. However, only 16 per cent agreed with the statement “I believe that the government makes the right decisions in crisis situations.” In the previous similar survey, this figure was 28.3 per cent. The government is currently trusted by 25 per cent of respondents, parliament by 21.7, the president by 58.2, and the police by 62.2.

The sources of this scepticism are many. After the Russian invasion of Ukraine, inflation in Latvia spiked to 17.3 per cent in 2022, well above the 3.3 per cent registered in 2021. Any confidence gained in 2024 is offset by lingering anxieties over economic resilience. The same survey, conducted by order of the state chancellery, showed that 41 per cent of respondents feel a threat to themselves while living in Latvia, and 53 per cent feel a threat to the country. This is unusual for Latvia, but the questions of people identifying themselves as Latvians by nationality were practically no different from those who called themselves Russian. When specifying what kind of personal threats people feel, more than 70 per cent answered that they are talking about economic problems. More than 55 per cent said political threats, while 46.1 per cent said threats to direct security. The same number of respondents are afraid of environmental threats.

Civic trust in government and elites, it turns out, is not a foregone conclusion in Latvia’s liberal democracy. A separate survey by the Latvian Transatlantic Organization (LATO) found rising pessimism, especially among Russian speakers. Only 30 per cent of respondents said that they are ready to cooperate with the government in the event of a crisis, while 70 per cent are ready to cooperate at the community level. Incidentally, in other Baltic countries, local residents trust the authorities much more. According to LATO Secretary General Sigita Struberga, there is not much trust at the interpersonal level in Latvia either, but this is not the government's fault: “The reasons for this are deeper, they are connected both with our history and the war in Ukraine. Mistrust of those who have different political views, nationality or religion from yours is constantly growing in our society.”

The dynamic between state and society in Latvia complicates defence. Resilience in the Baltics, as recent history shows, cannot be engineered solely through legislation or infrastructure. It is built, or undermined, through daily interactions between communities, institutions and political leaders.

Will the US help? 

Meanwhile, Latvia’s national security rests heavily on international alliances – alliances unsettled by political turbulence in Washington. The results of the US presidential election and the decisions of the Donald Trump administration are dramatically and unexpectedly changing many structures around the world. Latvia, located next to Russia and with a population of less than two million, may find itself in a particularly vulnerable position. However, President Rinkevich is convinced that “The end of the world has not come, a new light has not risen, and NATO is not dead.”

Foreign Minister Baiba Brazhe recently stated that every resident of Latvia should take care of their resilience, critical thinking and the development of new skills, noting that the foreign ministry is working to expand the presence of NATO allies in Latvia. Currently, Canada leads the international NATO contingent in the country. Allied guarantees have, in recent years, come into sharper focus. In late March, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio reaffirmed Washington’s commitment to ensuring the security of the Baltic states and welcomed the increase in defence spending in Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. A month later, Pentagon chief Pete Hegseth said that the guarantees are changing: “The time of the United States to be a sole guarantor of European security has passed.”

There is, consequently, growing US pressure for European NATO partners to increase defence spending to at least five per cent of GDP. In 2025 Latvia will spend 3.45 per cent of GDP, and in 2026 it will increase the military budget to four per cent. According to Latvian Prime Minister Evika Silina, in the following years, Riga plans to increase this budget to five per cent of GDP.

These shifts raise new anxieties among officials and the broader elite. Latvian politicians are cautiously optimistic about the new challenges associated with Trump's policies. In general, US allies under the new administration are increasingly doubting whether they should trust the old agreements. The most important reasons for these doubts were the White House's unclear positions on support for Ukraine and the organization of peace negotiations, as well as the trade war declared by Trump on the vast majority of countries, including uninhabited islands where only penguins and seals live.

Beyond strategic reassurance, the new economic measures by Washington carry concrete risks for Latvia – a small, open economy deeply tied to transatlantic commerce. According to current estimates, if a 20 per cent import tariff is applied to Latvia, it could lead to a decrease in GDP by 0.5 to one per cent. According to Uldis Rutkaste, a representative of the Bank of Latvia, the country's exports to the US make up slightly less than four per cent of total exports. However, the tariff will affect more than just this volume of goods and services. The fact is that Latvia exports raw materials to other countries in the EU, which in turn sell their own products to the US. Thus, the Latvian economy could face a double blow – both in direct exports and in exports to EU countries. The question of whether Latvia should count on military support from the US in such circumstances if it has to repel Russian attacks remains open.

The views and opinions in this text do not necessarily reflect those of the Heinrich-Böll-Stiftung.