After the dramatic entry on the political scene of Sandra Kalniete’s and Girts Kristovskis’ new political movement, the Democratic Patriotic Association (Demokrātiski patriotiskā biedrība, or DPB), there has been a period of turmoil within many political parties and within the government.

The embryonic DPB shocked the ruling coalition by gaining a following of more 6 percent in both February and March opinion polls. That’s a higher rating than several of the coalition’s parties, only half of which passed the 5 percent barrier that must be overcome during elections to have any representation in the Saeima (Parliament). It was also more than either of the parties that Kalniete and Kristovskis abandoned—respectively, New Era (Jaunais laiks) and For Fatherland and Freedom (Tēvzemei un Brīvībai, or TB/LNNK), both of which also remained below the 5 percent bar. To add to the display of new forces, the renegades from the People’s Party (Tautas partija)—the well-credentialed Aigars Štokenbergs and former Foreign Minister Artis Pabriks—also passed the 5 percent barrier with their plans to start a new party.

Such numbers may appear small, but Latvian surveys traditionally identify large numbers of people not able to decide among parties, It is the relativities between the parties that count, and here the new forces have made their mark and are beginning to have an effect on the other parties and the government.

First, there is the impact on the parties that Kalniete and Kristovskis abandoned. For Fatherland and Freedom has historically been a very important party in Latvian politics. Its members were at the forefront of citizen resistance to the Soviet regime in the late 1980s. Together with the Latvian National Independence Movement (Latvijas nacionālā neatkarības kustība, or LNNK), with which they have since amalgamated, they were the hardline nationalists pushing for restrictions on citizenship and a program of de-Sovietisation and standing for national values in politics. These stances were popular enough in the late 1980s and 1990s but lately the party has faced a serious decline in popularity. Its last great gain was in the European Parliament elections of 2005 when it secured the most votes and captured four out of Latvia’s eight deputies. Now three of those deputies, including Kristovskis, have left the party.

Several problems have beset TB/LNNK. It is seen as a somewhat old-fashioned party stressing nationalist issues that have either been superseded by more economic and environmental issues, or have been appropriated by several other centre-right parties, including Jaunais laiks. Moreover, the very name of the new party that Kalniete and Kristovskis are creating—the Democratic Patriotic Association—indicates it is appealing precisely to the voters who could support TB/LNNK. Another growing problem is that TB/LNNK was in the unpopular coalition government headed by Prime Minister Aigars Kalvītis, who was forced to resign in December, and is still in the current government. Despite the efforts of its chair, economist and MEP Roberts Zīle, to make over the party as a modern liberal-conservative party, it could be headed for oblivion.

If the TB/LNNK has suffered from being in the government, then paradoxically New Era (the party Kalniete left) has suffered from several times having walked out of coalitions and from not being in the current government. Its highly idiosyncratic founding leader Einars Repše has turned off many of the party’s supporters, and the ineffectual next leader Krišjānis Kariņš was not able to hold the party together. Despite the defection of Kalniete, three other deputies and several regional leaders, the party has insisted it is still strong and now more united. During its recent congress New Era installed one of its most competent members, Solvita Āboltiņa, as leader. But there also have been talks of New Era making a rapprochement with the People’s Party and perhaps even ultimarly merging.

The People’s Party and New Era have had a troubled relationship. Many of their policies are similar. New Era has always strongly campaigned on an anti-corruption platform. But the People’s Party and its founder, Andris Šķēle, have been widely condemned for oligarchic and corrupt practices, and have a running battle with government auditors and various watchdogs, which they are also accused of trying to dismiss or sideline. And the Štokenbergs-Pabriks force, campaigning heavily on improving the lot of pensioners, has clearly harmed the People’s Party, which gained a barely sufficient 5.3 percent in the March opinion poll.

The basic problem is that there are now too many parties that vie for a very similar centre-right slice of the electorate: New Era, the People’s Party, TB/LNNK, the Union of Greens and Farmers (Zaļo un Zemnieku savienība), and now the Kalniete-Kristovskis DPB and the Štokenbergs-Pabriks party. All of these cannot survive, and the greatest threat is that this historically all-too-familiar fragmentation of the centre-right could pave the way for the increased influence of the pro-Moscow Harmony Centre (Saskaņas Centrs), which at the moment leads the Latvian polls with a consistent 10-12 percent.

Meanwhile, government has not stopped, but at least some winds of change are being felt. We mention just three problems that may soon have some resolution.

First, late last year government forces threatened to not renew the appointment of Jānis Kažociņš, director of the main security body, the Constitution Protection Bureau (Satversmes Aizsardzības birojs). Kažociņš is a British-born Latvian unpopular with ruling circles, seemingly because he does actually catch spies. Yet this issue has decidely quietened down. No other candidates have been mentioned by name, and it could be that he does hold his position. If not, the umbrellas could well be back on the streets.

Second, the trade unions have been running a much-publicised initiative campaign, seeking signatures to compel the Saeima to adopt constitutional amendments that would give the electorate the power to initiate termination of the parliament. Currently the constitution allows only the president to propose terminating the Saeima, leading to a referendum. While the government loudly condemns the action, the campaign has highlightted how unpopular the Saeima is. Such unpopularity was heightened by a seemingly trivial but in fact quite vicious move: the government adopted new regulations for gathering such signatures, including having one’s identity notarised, meaning the process of collecting signatures is more time-consuming and more expensive.

Third, while some discomfort is seen in the Saeima and government on such instances as above, other areas seem to be politics-as-business as normal. Most critically for the long term, the government late last year approved a proposal to diversify energy supply in Latvia by building a new coal-biomass as well as a gas power station. Now, the government has reversed its decision and will no longer propose a coal-biomass power station, favouring solely the gas power station. The decision thus deepens Latvia’s dependence upon Russia’s Gazprom, despite every urging from the European Union and others to diversify.

Never was there a more timely moment for new political movements, and never has the road for them to climb been more difficult.

Dramatic events in the last few days, with defections from the New Era (Jaunais laiks) party, represent an understandable and welcome move to get away from the morass into which the government and the totally discredited Saeima have fallen. While at the time of writing these events are still to be fully worked out, they hopefully could see the beginning of the end of the self-seeking, autocratic and unresponsive politics of Latvia of the past few years.

How did we come to this?

After huge dissatisfaction with the government and mass demonstrations in the “umbrella revolution” of October and November, Prime Minister Aigars Kalvītis resigned—in the most leisurely way possible—on Dec. 5. This paved the way for Ivars Godmanis, past prime minister at the crucial period of 1990-1993, to return to the position. Godmanis is certainly a more serious and substantial figure than the bumbling and completely unethical Kalvītis. But to many this change has been simply a continuation of the old corrupt coalition politics under a slighlty more acceptable leadership. A new cork in the old bottle? Indeed it would be naïve to believe that simply changing the prime minister would necessarily change all that the coalition had entrenched.

After Kalvītis’ resignation, the same four parties as before formed the new coalition, again sidelining New Era. Despite a couple of defections, the dominant People’s Party (Tautas partija) is still the largest party in the coalition and has close links with the leaders and largely obedient followers of the other three coalition parties. The Saeima has not been dismissed, as many had hoped for, but continues very much in its errant ways, fiddling endlessly with legislation on such matters as declarations of earnings of public officials. While Godmanis has ushered in new procedures demanding that each minister in turn regularly appears before the parliament and answer questions about their porfolio, there is doubt that the Saeima has the intellectual wherewithall—or desire—to bring ministers to account.

An increasing number of scandals and deep worries about directions taken have continued unabated. Crucially, a number of these have involved relations with Russia:

• Latvian State Television’s decision, after obvious pressure from Russian diplomats, to not show a documentary film on Russian President Vladimr Putin the evening before the recent Russian elections. The head of Latvian television unconvincingly cited problems ranging from translation difficulties to a techncial hitch in the “horizontal time code,” all shown immediately to have been lies.
• Continuing uncertainty whether the full story is known about the border agreement with Russia, signed and now ratified by both governments.
• Significantly, relations with Russia have taken on an appearance of great warmth, with Russia often praising the “pragmatic” approach of the Kalvītis government and hoping for the same under Godmanis. Russia has recently invited President Valdis Zatlers to visit Moscow, an invitation long denied to previous President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga.

Local scandals have been plenty, too. Perhaps the most disturbing was the revelation in January that around 100 passports had been unlawfully issued by immigration department workers, some of whom have now been arrested. This incident has received an extraordinary response from government figures, who claimed that no harm was done, the passports were only used to create easier travel in the European Union, all the passports have been accounted for, it can never happen again… Investigations, as they say, are continuing, but the fear again is that things will be swept under the carpet.

In a perhaps even more extraordinary incident, former government bodyguard Edgars Gulbis, who has since been charged with a number of criminal offences, in late September happened to find himself in the Daugava River while being escorted handcuffed in a police convoy! No credible explanation has yet been put forward for this. Did he escape? Was he pushed? Was he meant to have survived?

On the more positive side, the hard working State Audit Office of Latvia (Latvijas Republikas Valsts kontrole) is having considerable success in uncovering an increasing number of shady deals particularly in property, telecommunicatiosn and transport, many of them areas under the control of government nasty Transport Minister Ainars Šlesers. 

For the past few moths there has been a feeling of dread that those who see politics as essentially an extension of their own self-enrichment and ignoring of national interests are still firmly entrenched in the Saeima and in government, shrugging off any criticism and indeed shrugging off the change of government.

The latest target, in just the last week, has been someone rarely heard of in the daily news but of vital importance for Latvian security: Jānis Kažociņš,  head of the main security body the Constitutional Protection Bureau (Satversmes aizsardzības birojs). Kažociņš is from the West, having served in British military intelligence, and his term of office ends in May. Recently he gained some prominece when a Russian spy was detected in Latvia by the security services and consequently expelled. Yet questions have now been raised by a number of government politicians as to whether he will be reappointed.

It is against this ominous background that there came the welcome news of defections from New Era.  The party had been the hope of many in the 2002 Saeima elections when it won many seats and brought the promise of a new, anti-corruption politics in Latvia, led by the charismatic and successful former head of the Bank of Latvia, Einars Repše. But Repše had become increasingly idiosyncratic and erratic, making poor political judgments, including twice dissolving New Era-led governments and going into the opposition. Repše remains the main figure in the party, but the formal leader is now Krišjānis Kariņš, a sober but relatively ineffectual leader formerly from the United States.

The final straw for many in the party was the seeming total inability to politically capitalise on the government’s recent self-destruction and popular mobilisation in the umbrella revolution. New Era remained outside the ruling coalition again, but also was never able to lead popular opposition to the government. The strength of the party, as many have noted, lies not in Repše or Kariņš but in a phalanx of outstanding women: former foreign minister and Eurocommissioner Sandra Kalniete, ex-Consitutional Court Judge Ilma Čepāne, and former Justice Minister Solvita Āboltiņa, among others. It was precisley some of these women (Kalniete and Čepāne) who led the defections. Four New Era Saeima deputies and numerous regional mayors and office-holders also have defected. Meanwhile, Āboltiņa remains with the party and is a likely future leader.

The intention clearly is to create a new political power without Repše’s baggage, perhaps (though this is by no means certain) through linking up with some members of the For Fatherland and Freedom Party (Tēvzemei un brīvībai / LNNK) who are critical of that party’s compromised role as the junior coalition partner, or with some other defectors from major parties.

While much remains to be done to create an alternative force, while mistakes may be made and while the ruling coalition will cling to power for all it is worth, things may be moving in dramatic new ways.

It may soon be time to unfurl the umbrellas again.

 

 

 

On the extraordinary fairy-tale of how a majority government, commanding all significant power, mercilessly skilful in its political manipulations, and with a weak and divided opposition, tried to over-gorge itself, played several tricks too many, started unravelling and 5,000 rain-bedraggled fairy princesses demonstrated the wrath of the previously unheeded and helped bring it to its knees…

Just who is writing this script? The coalition government was the most secure in Latvian democratic history, with Aigars Kalvītis himself the first prime minister to be returned to office after an election. An iron discipline characterised the the coalition parties, with little open internal dissent. Ministerial positions were allocated and reallocated behind closed doors with the losing party on any nomination biting its tongue. Crucial decisions, such as the election of surprise candidate Valdis Zatlers as the new president, were pushed through without compunction and—in the actions of several members of the Saeima—with complete contempt for public opinion.

Now, Kalvītis may be about to resign in a bizarre scenario where he will hang on by agreement just long enough to push through a budget. Speculation is increasing about whether the president—appointed as a seeming hand-boy of this same coalition—may yet have to decide to take the unprecedented step of dissolving the Saeima before its term is up.

And astonishingly, American diplomats have started to pay renewed attention to little Latvia, from the ambassador in Rīga to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. In the most diplomatic terms—like some Greek chorus in the background—they have been whispering that Latvia might, should, perhaps, you know, like, at the highest level, look, at… um… corruption…?

Some sense of crisis arose earlier in the year, when outgoing President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga delayed security service amendments that had been passed twice by the Saeima, forcing the issue to a referendum. The referendum did not gain the required number of participants: 50 percent of the number of voters at the previous Saeima election. The government (quietly) and the anti-Vīķe-Freiberga press (loudly) gloated over this failure, but at the time it seemed perhaps of little matter as the parliament had already overturned its own legisation. But the feeling lingered that the legislation that would have allowed access to security information by a far larger number of persons was in the interests of certain oligarchs who themselves were under investigation by the security services and courts.

The unpopular process by which the new president was elected was another step, though at the time the ruling coalition saw it a its greatest triumph. The feeling of unease exploded in quite unpredictable ways when Kalvītis attempted to stand down Aleksejs Loskutovs, head of the Corruption Prevention and Combating Bureau, on charges of irregularities in financial matters. At the time of his appointment Loskutovs had been a publicly unpopular candidate, but was voted in by these same coalition parties. The charge against him, it turrned out, regarded some irregularites in bookkeeping in the anti-corruption bureau. No money had gone missing or gone into the wrong hands, no secret deals or other nefarious financial activities had been engaged in, but the bookkeeping was irregular.

Then it all started to unravel. First, these bookkeeping events were known to the national auditor as early as May, and communicated to the prime minister in June, but only came to light in late Sepember—significantly—after a new president had succeeded Vīķe-Freiberga. Kalvītis could not explain the delay.

Second, the example of pouncing on the anti-corruption bureau (known in Latvian as Korupcijas novēršanas un apkarošanas birojs, or KNAB) stands in sharp contrast to the lack of action over several much more serious auditing issues in other ministries where millions really had disappeared, most particularly in the Transport Ministry, the stronghold of coaliton head-kicker and Latvijas Pirmā partija (First Party of Latvia) nasty Ainārs Šlesers. Various authorities, including the chief prosecutor, could not see why the bookkeeping of KNAB would justify Loskutovs’ dismissal.

Third, Kalvītis destroyed his own credibilty when it turned out the prime minister did not have the power to remove Loskutovs or even suspend him. This had to come from the Saeima.

Fourth, this was seen as a dangerous turning against corruption-catchers and very much politically inspired. Apart from its work on the oligarchs, KNAB had also been looking at irregularities in electoral funding, including by Kalvītis’ own Tautas partija (People’s Party).

And troubles for the government started to come elsewhere. Changes in the national television channel, where the most popular and critical current affairs program was axed, brought huge protests. The publication of the sensational book Tiesāšanās kā ķēķis, apparently based on recorded telephone conversations with lawyer Andris Grūtups, revealed corrupt practices by judges and questioned the government’s dedication to combatting corruption. Continuous attacks on the State Audit Office, particularly from Šlesers, also heightened disquiet.

Long-repressed internal dissent also opened up. Regional Development and Local Government Minister Aigars Štokenbergs had opposed several government initiatives—and more. He criticised the role of Andris Šķēle, founder of the Tautas partija and now simply a rank-and-file member, but seen by many as one of the oligarchic powers. In a move that already well-illustrated his future course, Štokenbergs did not attend the glittering inauguration ball for the new [resident at Rundāle Palace, but instead joined in the “alternative” ball arranged by numerous oppositional groups at the wonderful new artists’ colony on Andrejsala—the once deserted strip of Riga’s inner docks. The party finally had had enough and threw him out, while Kalvītis demanded his resignation as minister. Foreign Minister Andris Pabriks, meanwhile, resigned in protest over the Loskutovs affair. The most recent resignation of Dagnija Staķe as welfare minister compounded these problems. And Štokenbergs is talking of starting a genuine new political party.

Yet it was the Loskutovs question that swung the whole issue. On the very rainy morning of Oct. 18, some 5,000 peop;e turned up outside the Saeima to protest any action the parliament might take against Loskutovs. Overwhelmed by the unexpected turnout, the security police managed to provide just one narrow path through the crowded street for parliamentarians to walk through, giving them an unusually close encounter with a public opinion they have overwhelmingly ignored in the past. This demonstration has galvanised politics all around and seen the start of continuing political actions and large public protests. Many are calling for this discredited Saeima to be dissolved.

Looking back, the government has absolutely no one to blame except itself. When King Kong in the famous movie climbed to the top of the Empire State Building with a blonde heroine in his paw, he was shot down by airplanes. The verdict of the film: it was beauty that killed the beast. In the case of Kalvītis and the dissolving government, it was a thing not of beauty at all, but lust of another politically familiar kind. It was over-preening political ambition that killed this beast.