The past month’s political events have tended to overshadow the coming referendum on July 7. And this—in some cases—was what they were seemingly intended to do.

The appointment by the Saeima of a deeply unpopular (and possibly compromised) President Valdis Zatlers at the insistence of the coalition parties has once more led the ruling coalition in Latvia to believe it can get away with anything. President Vīķe-Freiberga’s earlier stopping of two amendments to security laws was the most serious rebuff to such assumed omnipotence, and made her from that moment the extreme enemy of the ruling coalition. (The amendments alarmed the NATO defense alliance as they would have given a far wider range of unaccountable people access to security information.)

Every move since then has come with the calculation of blunting Vīķe-Freiberga and counting down the days to her departure. Equally important has been ensuring a successor who lacks the independence so characteristic of Vīķe-Freiberga’s term of office. 

The considerable kerfuffle over Zatlers’ appointment has concentrated on the infamous “envelope” practice—the custom since Soviet times of giving medical personnel a gift or consideration to ensure better medical attention, and Zatlers like all medical personnel had received such additional payments. In a ludicrous, post-appointment action Zatlers then went to the Taxation Office to declare this never previously declared income, and both he and the head of the Taxation Office urged others to report these payments as well. Press reports a few days afterwards said a total of three individuals had done so.

Yet the ruckus over the envelopes, wounding as it may be to Zatlers, itself has drawn attention away from what is the more serious failing of the man: in not one public appearance or statement has Zatlers demonstrated the least expertise in any aspects of politics, either internal or external. Moreover, as a sign of how cynically the appointment was seen by the coalition, in all the debates not one single relevant quality of the man was ever articulated by those proposing him. Being a clinician and medical administrator was the sole qualification mentioned as sufficient for being a president—that, and being proposed by the coalition.

For a further example of the stance of the coalition, Tautas partija (People’s Party) deputy Jānis Lagzdiņš immediately after the Saeima decision on Zatlers went out to the sizable crowd protesting Zatlers’ appointment and gave them a physical “get stuffed” sign. Appearing smiling before the Saeima’s conduct committee, his punishment was the expected rap over the knuckles with a wet noodle: a warning.

The coalition’s hope for an earnest, administratively neutral, presentable but ultimately quiescent president may or may not be fulfilled. For the coalition, Zatlers is of course a completely expendable figure.

The arrival of the new president now signals the impending end of Vīķe-Freiberga’s term. In her last address to the Saeima, she gave her customary sombre recounting of political problems mixed with praise for economic and social progress and words of hope for Latvia’s future. But apart from the words, two aspects of the aftermath of her speech were noteworthy. Her speech ended without even polite applause from the Saeima—the coalition parties (and some opposition parties) cannot wait to see her go. Secondly, the standard ritual of presenting flowers to the president was overlooked—in the flower-mad culture of Latvia, where the slightest appointment or distinction or event, merited or not, will bring garlands of flowers to whomever, such an omission cannot be seen as mere forgetfulness.

The conduct of the Saeima and its deputies appears to have fallen to its lowest ebb.

Journalism, too, has deteriorated, as seen in the antagonism between Diena—fierce critic of Zatlers and the coalition while staunchly supporting Vīķe-Freiberga—and Neatkarīgā Rīta Avīze, supporter of exactly the opposite. NRA praised Zatlers’ appointment, and on this occasion made hay of Diena’s discomfort. Diena added to its own woes in two episodes at Zatlers’ first press conference after his election. One concerned two Diena journalists, pressing questions regarding the envelopes, resorting to angrily shouting their accusatory questions. Take time to think about whether you have ever seen this happen anywhere before—journalists shouting at an appointed president. And perhaps worse was to follow: when a Chinese journalist covering the event asked a question on Latvia’s relations with China, these same Diena journalists pulled the sides of their eyes into slits to mock him. This gesture is far from being just infantile nonsense or a joke, but a deeply disturbing sign of how racial stereotypes are still spontaneously current in Latvian life and how little journalists understand even the basics of their profession.

NRA meanwhile has stepped up its own campaign of denigrating Vīķe-Freiberga’s term of office, of which we are likely to hear a great deal more.

The referendum and what is at stake

July 7 is the referendum date but also, in somewhat bizarre irony, the last day of Vīķe-Freiberga’s tenure as president. And while much has happened to cast the referendum into the shadows, there is no doubt this is the main political event now before the summer silly season, and a crucial test also of Vīķe-Freiberga’s standing.

At the symbolic level, her departure is being used by her supporters as an occasion for a massive show of support. A “hill of flowers” (flowers again!) was created June 30 at Turaida to acknowledge her contribution. As Diena correspondent Laila Pakalniņa splendidly observed, such an agreeable undertaking was however rather beside the point: the best show of gratitude for Vīķe-Freiberga would be a massive “yes” vote in the referendum.

While technically this is a referendum about amendments to two laws on security arrangements, politically much more is at issue. If the referendum does not get the required numbers, it will be triumphantly seen by the ruling coalition as the uselessness of the president’s action, the impotence of an opposition and the general irrelevance of any public opinion to the running of the country in the coalition’s own interests. Never mind that the coalition, under fear of backlash, itself immediately withdrew the amendments after the president froze their implementation: all the pompous self-righteousness will be directed at those who dared oppose the coalition. On the other hand, a “yes” vote in the referendum will not unseat the coalition, but it will cause it to have trouble brushing off the rebuff as merely a hiccough and as irrelevant. No doubt a successful “yes” vote would redouble the coalition’s efforts to reimpose its hegemony and in particular put extra pressure on President Zatlers to never have any piece of legislation rejected by him. But it will also give confidence to the opposition to challenge this further. The stakes, as always, are high. A vote in the referendum is essential.

While anything written here on the Latvian presidential selection shenanigans may be rendered instantly obsolete by the next unpredictable turn of events, it is nevertheless worthwhile to reflect on the process for what it has revealed about appalling shortcomings in many areas in Latvia’s politics, not the presidential election process alone.

Latvia’s constitution stipulates a president has to be elected every four years by a majority of the Saeima (the Latvian parliament), rather than by popular vote. But the constitution specifies no particular details for this electoral process. Unlike virtually every other presidential system, candidates could be nominated by members of the Saeima at any time during the process. When Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga was elected for her first term in 1999, she had not been a candidate at all in the first few rounds of voting. When no candidate nominated by any party could get near the required 51 votes of the Saeima, Vīķe-Freiberga at the final hour emerged as a “neutral” candidate. In order to obtain greater transparency, Vīķe-Freiberga herself this year sought clarification of the process, arguing that the public has a right to know potential candidates. The process has now been amended to the extent that candidates cannot be nominated on the day of their election, but as we have seen in recent weeks the process otherwise has remained completely unreformed.

A brief chronology is in order.

At the Saeima elections in October 2006 only one party named its potential presidential candidate. New Era (Jaunais laiks) nominated Sandra Kalniete, the well-known foreign relations specialist and one-time European Union commissioner. However, there was much speculation that, as in 1999, it would be hard for any candidate nominated by a party to gain a majority. Against this, the victory by the ruling coalition in the 2006 election paved the way precisely for a party candidate to be successful.

With Vīķe-Freiberga’s term due to end in July, speculation grew over the first months of this year. Several people were suggested as presidential candidates, but many declined. Other political matters also accentuated the importance of the president, in particular the president’s shock halt in March of amendments to two security laws, forcing the issue to go to a referendum. The coalition parties hastily rescinded the amendment, among calls for their resignation. The belated support for Estonia against Russia also weakened the coalition’s standing.

In mid-May the coalition’s People’s Party (Tautas partija) nominated Māris Riekstiņš, who heads the prime minister’s office. He is an otherwise a well-credentialed political figure, but clearly in this context is a party figure. Another coalition party, the First Party of Latvia / Latvia’s Way (Latvijas Pirmā partija/Latvijas ceļš) nominated the relatively lightweight minister Karīna Pētersone. The Union of Greens and Farmers (Zaļo un Zemnieku savienība) sought a number of possible candidates, including Egīls Levits, a European Court of Human Rights judge. However, much commentary still argued that no party-nominated candidate could hope to get a majority.

On May 23, in a complete reversal, the coalition announced it would after all promote a neutral candidate, Latvia’s leading orthopaedic surgeon Valdis Zatlers, a non-party figure but one with little political experience. The parties praised Zatlers‘ part in reforming the Latvian medical system—and his neutrality. It came as a complete surprise to all including, it seems, the other candidates. A pissed-off Pētersone called a halt to her seemingly good-faith campaigning and walked out on the process in disgust at this deal done behind her back.

Immediately some comments were raised about Zatlers’ statements that he had received, but never demanded, “envelope money,” the gifts of payments by patients that had caused so much scandal in Latvia in previous years. Despite this, Zatlers was heavily promoted as a neutral candidate, and now his election to the president seems to be a fait accompli—and a coup for the coalition.

Yet on May 24 an equal bombshell came from a totally unexpected source. Harmony Centre (Saskaņas centrs) nominated highly-respected former Constitutional Court Judge Aivars Endziņš. His nomination received a rapturous welcome from the public as measured in online forums and in much of the press. In a television show featuring all three candidates, both Endziņš and Kalniete easily outscored Zatlers in a viewers’ poll.

And then, in another surprise, Kalniete withdrew her candidature in favour of Endziņš. Having no hope of gaining the position from her base in Jaunais laiks, Kalniete now has laid the grounds for a two-way contest, with the overwhelming interest emerging in how many coalition parliamentarians may defect to the more publicly popular candidate. Some members of For Fatherland and Freedom / LNNK (Tēvzemei un brīvībai / LNNK) seem to be wavering. The nomination has also brought Harmony Centre into renewed political prominence. Seen by many as a tactical Moscow front and a replacement for the old Soviet-style For Human Rights in a United Latvia (PCTVL), Harmony Centre has tried hard to prove its political reasonableness and to be seen as future genuine government coalition partner. Interestingly, Harmony Centre had previously become very chummy with some coalition parties, but Endziņš has been known to criticise the coalition in the past. The leading coalition parties see him as anathema to their interests.

Meanwhile, the issue of envelope money will not go away for Zatlers. This form of low-level but ubiquitous corruption was characterstic of the Soviet era, when to get any degree of personal attention—or even sometimes any access at all to services that should have been there for any citizen—it was necessary to give the doctor or whomever a gift. Interestingly, in Soviet times this was usually not money. What, after all, could you buy with roubles? Western goods, or luxuries, or hard to obtain local products (a pair of panty-hose, western alcohol or cigarettes), or an invitation to an exclusive retreat were among the range of what could usefully guarantee a service. In present-day Latvia, as befits a would-be capitalist system, the “gifts” are overwhelmingly money. A curiosity of the Latvian taxation law—or rather a deliberately placed loophole—is that it is unclear to what extent such payments are illegal if given voluntarily, and a many-sided brawl is now ensuing over the taxation laws and the ethics of such payments. Even the taxation office has weighed into the argument. The more intense this brawl, the worse for Zatlers.

The Saeima will select a president—or not—on May 31. If the coalition is able to get its way and elect Zatlers, we will have a deeply unpopular and potentially divisive president on possibly a knife-edge majority, but a rich triumph for the coalition in getting its man into the position. If against all previous expectations a figure like Endziņš is elected, he will very likely continue the presidential style of Vīķe-Freiberga, and this will be a crushing setback for the coalition. However, we must warn that other unpredictable outcomes are also still possible.

Latvia’s political intrigues took another turn when by May 2 enough citizens had signed for a referendum to be held on President Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga’s halting of the government’s security services legislation.

In Latvia’s complex system of parliamentary and presidential checks and balances, the president has the power first to return a bill first passed by the Saeima, but then if the bill is passed again unaltered, the president has a further power of refusing assent for two months. This automatically triggers the collection of signatures to see if a referendum is to be held.

This was the first case in post-Soviet, independent Latvia that the president has taken this step. Vīķe-Freiberga—and many others—argued that the security services legislation allowed too many parliamentarians and their officials access to state secrets, concerns also expressed by the NATO defense alliance. And the president warned such access may also be used for internal politics and gain by “oligarchs.” I have previously written about the extraordinary response to this by the government and ruling coalition: they immediately moved to repeal this and other controversial legislation, claiming continually that a referendum was not needed and hoping not enough signatures would be collected. The government-friendly newspaper Neatkarīgā Rīta Avīze, owned by coalition accomplice and now jailed Ventspils Mayor Aivars Lembergs, as late as the morning of May 3 still ventured an article that “most likely, not enough signatures would be collected.” For the ruling coalition, the referendum has been its first major obstacle to an otherwise arrogant and roughshod career of dodgy legislation and appointments, and of ignoring advice and criticism. The question now is will it be fatal for a coalition that only a few months ago looked so invincible?

Two considerations are relevant here.

First, the saga of the referendum is by no means over. When the referendum is held, the question must be approved by 50 percent plus one of those participating, and there can be little doubt about such a result. But for the referendum to count, it has to attract at least half the number of the voters who voted in the previous Saeima elections. With around 61 percent of those eligible voting in 2006, in this case some 453,730 citizens are required to cast a vote one way or the other, just over double the number who signed petitions to hold the referendum. Getting these votes out may not be easy, particularly if the government is successful in portraying the referendum as now unnecessary. Judging from the fury of comments on Internet and letters-to-the-editor pages, Latvia is deeply divided over this issue. 

If the referendum does not get the required numbers, the ruling coalition no doubt would claim a victory and endorsement of its policies and legitimacy. The stakes are very high.

Second, the brouhaha surrounding this referendum and the coalition’s politics has seen numerous voices asking for the resignation of this government. It should be said at once that there is no necessary link between such a referendum result and the staying or going of a government; they are quite separate issues. Yet the question is not going away.

For those now suddenly fascinated by what other surprises the Latvian constitution holds, in fact the president does have the power to call a new Saeima election. If she announces such a decision, a referendum must be held, and if the referendum supports the president, then the Saeima is dissolved and new elections are held. If the referendum does not support the president, then the president must resign—a remarkably fair constitutional requirement it would seem. Some have been calling for this, and in response some of the wilder conspiracy theories emanating from government supporters are that such a course of action of creating a false crisis for the president to act was precisely planned by the “usual suspects”: the president, the Jaunais laiks (New Era) party and the Soros Foundation.

The strongest voices calling for resignation of the government come indeed from the oppositional New Era, still trying to overcome its own internal wrangling over leadership and direction, but the president seems in no hurry to move at all. Nevertheless a referendum result supporting the president would put extra strains on the coalition.

Adding drama to this mix is the position of the president herself. Vīķe-Freiberga’s term ends in two months and the ruling parties are doing everything to try to find “their” candidate for this position. A highly politicised presidential selection by the Saeima is likely, which the ruling coalition hopes will never be against its legislation.

The referendum on the halted security legislation will be held between one and two months time. But a number of other issues may have an impact on how all this is played out.

The much-delayed border agreement with Russia has been signed and now must be ratified by the Saeima, confirming present borders and ipso facto giving up Latvia’s claim to the Abrene region that was part of pre-war Latvia. This will now be challenged in the Constitutional Court, with an uncertain outcome, but one likely to only be decided in the northern autumn. But there is considerable public concern over this agreement, which came without the previously desired accompanying declaration of Latvia’s historical relation to Russia and its border.

Much more immediate are recent events in Estonia and the widespread disturbances there over relocation of a Soviet war memorial from the centre of Tallinn to a military cemetery. Egged on by a massive anti-Estonian campaign from Russia, the resulting two-day violent confrontations put a question mark over the wisdom of Estonia’s politicians’ desires to tamper with such a symbol, and over the course of social integration in Estonia more generally. They also underlined Russia’s still antagonistic relations with Estonia, a heady mix with lessons for Latvia.

Within Latvia two more issues hold unpredictable potential. Great anticipation exists over the pending trial of Lembergs, with many of his political and business colleagues increasingly distancing themselves from him. This seems to be having little impact on other powerful co-oligarchs such as Andris Šķēle and Ainars Šlesers, who continue to exert influence even though suggestions of malpractice and corruption increase. The thuggish Šlesers, head of Latvijas Pirmā partija (First Party of Latvia), has also become politically active on a new front, forging closer link to the pro-Moscow Saskaņas centrs (Harmony Center) and together with Interior Minister Ivars Godmanis proposing that noncitizens be allowed to vote in municipal elections. Godmanis wants—wait for it—a referendum on this issue, a potentially explosive proposal and one in which, among others, Russia will be deeply interested. It is all stirring the pot, and hoping, inter alia, to take attention away from the referendum at hand.

The coming referendum on halting the security legislation comes at a politically rollercoaster time.