Postcard from Rīga

In the last one hundred years, Latvia has successively been: part of the German Empire; occupied by the Soviet Union; independent; occupied by the Soviet Union; occupied by Nazi Germany; occupied by the Soviet Union and independent again.

If we look even further back, this country has been ruled by Swedes, Poles and Lithuanians as well.

So it is no wonder that Latvians in general do not trust major world powers. As a small nation of virtually no significance (except its strategic position on the Gulf of Riga) to anyone but its own people, we know well that we do not have the weapons (physical, strategic or political) to defend ourselves if Germany, Russia – or come to that, the USA, UK or even Poland were to decide to take us over once more.

This mixture of distrust and a longing for security leads to a tension here between those who are delighted at Latvia’s membership of the European Union and of NATO, and those who regard the EU as little different to the USSR and the presence of NATO troops on Latvian soil as analogous to another occupation.

To fill in the background a little, Latvia was a member of the League of Nations prior to World War II. Immediately after independence was recognised in 1991, Latvia applied to become a member of the United Nations and was accepted in September 1991.

Prior to becoming an EU member state, Latvia had already joined the Council of Europe and World Trade Organisation. In 2004, we became members of the EU and of NATO. This was all deliberately and consciously done to remove ourselves from the sphere of influence of our powerful and increasingly aggressive neighbour to the East, and to position Latvia firmly as an European country. Latvians have become enthusiastic ‘joiners’, not wishing to be isolated; with the caveat that there are some among the substantial Russian-speaking minority who would wish us to be more closely linked with Russia.

Visitors here often remark on the sheer beauty of the country.

Rīga is a great place to visit, with endless concerts, theatres, alternative venues, art galleries (and also a pretty endless stream of British stag parties, less attractively). The Baltic coast provides miles of white sand and clean water, and the country is still covered largely with forests. Rīga also has a growing number of very good eateries, serving modern Latvian food (think forest and field – mushrooms, elk meat, nuts, berries, vegetables and lots and lots of fish), as well as international cuisine. All of this has earned us many friends - tourists who come again and again.

But friends will not save us in a time of crisis. It is only by being firmly linked in to European structures, defended by Clause 5 of the Washington Treaty that we experience at least some feeling of security.

To some extent, it might remind us of the scene in the Life of Brian, where an anti-Roman revolutionary asks ‘What have the Romans ever done for us?’ – only to be told that sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, public health and peace are all results of the hated occupation. Of course the EU is not responsible for most of this in our time, but concretely here in Latvia the EU has financed educational facilities, hospitals, a vast programme of road building (in a country where large parts still only have dirt or gravel roads).

And above all, we have had peace, more or less, in Europe for the last 70 years. As President of the European Council Herman Van Rompuy said in his Nobel Lecture in 2012:

Of course, peace might have come to Europe without the Union. Maybe. We will never know. But it would never have been of the same quality. A lasting peace, not a frosty cease-fire.
To me, what makes it so special, is reconciliation. In politics as in life, reconciliation is the most difficult thing. It goes beyond forgiving and forgetting, or simply turning the page.

So the answer, above all, to the question – What has the European Union ever done for us? - is probably peace above all. And at a time like this, when we have internal tensions within the EU, especially over the thorny issue of refugees arriving on our shores, and dying at our borders, it is more important than ever for all of us to hold together, large and powerful countries just as much as small, resource and powerpoor nations.

About the author

Bishop Jāna Jēruma-Grīnberga is the chaplain of St Saviour’s Anglican Church in Riga Latvia. She was installed to this post in October 2014. Prior to taking up this post she served as the bishop of the Lutheran Church in Great Britain taking office in January 2009. She is the daughter of the Latvian composer Albert Jerums and was in exile with her family during the communist era. She studied biochemistry at Univeristy College London and trained to become a nurse before feeling called to the priesthood, studying at North Thames Ministerial Training Course at Oak Hill Theological College and being ordained in 1997. Prior to becoming a bishop, she was a pastor in the Latvian Evangelical Lutheran Church in Great Britain. She is probably the only woman Bishop in the world who speaks both Latvian and Swahili; her passions outside the church include cricket, music and politics.