Latvia Paganism: The return of the strong gods?

In the fifth century AD, as the last of Rome’s old patrician families fought a losing battle for the continuance of pagan rites in the face of the rise of Christianity, they claimed that abandoning the old rites endangered the safety of the state. Roman religion had always been a communal and civic affair; Rome’s state religion was a pan-imperial supernatural insurance policy — or even a supernatural protection racket: end the sacrifices, and face the consequences. Although we might be inclined to think that the demise of Roman religion represented the end of state paganism in Europe, it was an event a whole millennium later that extinguished the last state cult. On 14 February 1387 Grand Duke Jogaila of Lithuania and a group of Catholic priests extinguished the perpetual fire and closed the temple of the thunder god in Vilnius. State paganism in Europe was over — until, that is, 9 October 2025.

The English-speaking media, perhaps understandably, pays little attention to the internal affairs of the Baltic nation of Latvia, but an unusual law passed by Latvia’s Saeima (parliament) on 9 October deserves some consideration. It represents the first time a European nation has enshrined a special place for a pagan religion in the state. On the face of it, the Dievturi Community Law is no different from a number of laws that have been passed in several different countries extending legal recognition to neopagan groups — which usually includes the right to register their places of worship, operate as charities, and receive state recognition for marriages solemnised according to their rites. But Latvia’s Dievturi Community Law goes further by praising Dievturība (Latvia’s form of revived paganism) and commending it to the Latvian people: “Dievturība, as a traditional religion in Latvia, and the Sadraudze [community] representing it have maintained a longstanding tradition in Latvia; it is faithful to spiritual and moral values, nurtures the Latvian language and traditions, and preserves the nation’s spiritual heritage.”

In neighbouring Estonia paganism is reportedly the second most popular religious affiliation

Dievturība (literally “keepers of Dievs”, the Latvian supreme sky-god) is, in fact, Europe’s oldest continuously existing neopagan movement. It was the brainchild of Ernests Brastinş̌ and Kārlis Marovskis-Bregžis who, in 1925, decided that Christianity was an unsuitable religion for the new Republic of Latvia, which had secured its independence from Russia in 1918. This was not altogether surprising; Latvian nationalists had long been troubled by Christianity, which was imposed on Latvia by crusaders in the Middle Ages who then ruled Livonia as a German-speaking noble class for the next seven centuries. Christian conversion was thus equated with national erasure. Dievturība became associated with the ultra-nationalist “Thunder Cross” movement founded by Gustavs Celmiņš in 1933, which collaborated with the Nazis in perpetrating the Latvian Holocaust. For this reason, and because “native faith” movements were associated with nationalism, followers of Dievturība were persecuted during the Soviet occupation of Latvia. The movement re-emerged from the shadows in the late 1980s and then flourished in post-independence Latvia. In 2015 Latvia elected its first openly pagan President, Raimonds Vējonis.

Dievturis claim to be following the ancient pagan religion of the Balts, which was preserved in Latvia’s traditional mythological songs, (known as the Dainas) collected in the 19th century. In reality, Latvia’s original pagan religion had faded away by the late 18th century, and Dievturība is an attempt to reconstruct a religion we know little about. Ernests Brastinş̌ was a former Lutheran, and modelled the sacred text of Dievturība on Martin Luther’s catechism. The focus of Dievturība is a religious mysticism derived from interpretation of the Dainas, accompanied by ritualised song and dance — in contrast to the animal sacrifice practised by pre-Christian Latvians. Whereas neighbouring Catholic Lithuania proved exceedingly reluctant to accord any official status to its neopagan Romuva movement (acting only in 2024 under pressure from the European Court of Human Rights), Latvia’s new law endorses Dievturība and its claim of continuity with Latvia’s ancient past — going as far as the Latvian constitution (which forbids any establishment of religion) will permit.

Latvia is not alone in having a flourishing neopagan movement. In neighbouring Estonia paganism is reportedly the second most popular religious affiliation, as it is in Iceland. The difference in Latvia is that paganism seems especially popular with legislators; as one Latvian MP observed on social media, recognition of an indigenous religion will strengthen Latvian values “so that no foreign, unacceptable faith takes their place” — perhaps an allusion to Islam and the challenges of immigration. All of the Baltic states face a dire demographic situation, with plummeting birth-rates, and the appeal of native religions may be a reaction to fears of the marginalisation of indigenous culture. At any rate, it seems unlikely that Latvia will be the last European country to endorse its pagan traditions officially; perhaps East Wiltshire MP Danny Kruger was right (as he declared in the House of Commons on 17 July) that “the strong gods are back”.