On Thursday the Latvian Saeima (parliament) passed a rather unusual law that, predictably, has escaped notice in the English-speaking media but is nevertheless of broader interest to all Europeans. The Dievturi Community Law, which has been in preparation since 2018, accords a special place in Latvia’s national life to the nation’s ‘native faith’ movement, Dievturība, an attempt to revive Latvian pagan religion that is a hundred years old this year. The Dievturi Community Law goes beyond what other states have done with regard to their neopagan communities; in December 2024, for example, the Seimas of Lithuania somewhat reluctantly registered the neopagan Romuva movement as a religion recognised by the state after pressure from the European Court of Human Rights. Such recognition normally allows a religion to operate as a charity, to register its places of worship, and to have marriages solemnised according to its rites recognised by the state. The Dievturi Community Law in Latvia goes beyond this by explicitly recognising Dievturība as a traditional religion of Latvia deeply rooted in its history and culture, and by giving legal authority to the internal constitution of the Dievturi Community:

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. (Article 2.2)

In common with other European republics Latvia has no mechanism for the adoption of a state religion, and Article 9 of the Latvian constitution requires separation of church and state. But that does not preclude according special privileges to some religions over others, and the passage of a law singling out Dievturība as a religion that is part of Latvia’s heritage brings Latvia close to establishing a pagan religion as an official faith – perhaps the closest any European nation has come to doing so since 1387, when Lithuania’s pagan state religion was finally abolished. Crucially, the law acknowledges Dievturi’s longstanding tradition – an allusion, surely, to the century of its existence – and implicitly validates the religion’s claim to be in continuity with ancient Baltic traditions – ‘the nation’s spiritual heritage’.

Yet this is not altogether unprecedented – or indeed unexpected – in Latvia. In 2015 the country’s then President, Raimonds Vējonis, publicly declared himself a pagan, and Dievturība was recognised as a religion in Latvia before the Second World War. It is also not entirely unprecedented in Eastern Europe; outside of the European Union, the Mari El Republic of the Russian Federation recognises Mari traditional animism as an official religion, and the republic’s president is sworn in during a ceremony involving both an Orthodox and a pagan priest.

However, it remains unclear how many adherents Dievturība actually has; across the Baltic states, active, professed members of such new religious movements remain in the low thousands. But this doesn’t matter all that much to the leaders of the native faith movements; they are less interested in proselytism and membership growth than in acceptance and cultural influence, and the extent of Dievturība’s influence vastly exceeds its membership. In Latvia and Lithuania neopagan religious revivalism is intimately tied to folklore, folk song and folk dance, as well as to set-piece semi-ritualised performances of national identity. Not everyone involved in such performances is a pagan, but prominence is sometimes afforded to pagan groups. We thus arrive at a situation similar to that described by Ronald Hutton in the UK, where ‘initiated’ or avowed pagans function as a sort of ‘clergy’ for a much larger penumbra of noncommittal yet ‘pagan-curious’ individuals who participate in rituals and festivals. Paganism, after all, has never really been about formal membership (a religious concept borrowed from Christianity).

But there is an important difference between the Baltic states and the UK. In Britain paganism is not (usually) bound up with national identity, whereas in Latvia and Estonia especially native faith movements are intimately tied to national self-realisation. Unlike in Lithuania, where the decision to convert to Catholicism was taken by a native ruler, in Latvia and Estonia Christianity was imposed on an unwilling popular by crusaders – leaving a lingering sense in Latvian and Estonian nationalism that Christianity is a foreign religion synonymous with oppression and cultural erasure. As Latvian MP Jānis Dombrava posted on Twitter on Thursday, the recognition of Dievturība strengthens Latvia’s values, ‘so that no foreign, unacceptable faith takes their place’ – which should probably be interpreted as a veiled reference to Islam, but might equally refer to Christianity in the minds of some of Dievturība’s more enthusiastic adherents.

Compared to other native faith movements in Eastern Europe, Dievturība has a long history – and it is older than Wicca, the dominant neopagan religion in the English-speaking world. Cynics might wonder why there are two competing reconstructions of the ancient religion of the Balts (Dievturība and Romuva) in Latvia and Lithuania, and they may be inclined to view Dievturība and movements like it as a kind of ritualistic nationalist cosplay that has got out of control. But it is difficult now to dismiss a century-old religious movement as a passing fad; Dievturība’s challenge is not so much to convince the world that it is authentically Latvian, or even authentically a religion, but to shed some of the movement’s associations with problematic far-right politics. Far-right politics in Latvia is more problematic than most, given that Latvian politicians – avowed neopagans among them – allowed themselves to become entwined with Latvia’s German occupiers and even with the SS. In Latvia debate still rages about the ‘SS Legion’ raised in the country, with some insisting that joining it was a desperate bid for Latvian’s national preservation against the Soviet threat. But it is noteworthy that the SS never managed to raise such a Legion in neighbouring Lithuania, where the Soviets were equally hated.

The contemporary Dievturība movement includes people of all political hues and it would be simplistic to associate it with far-right politics; the shadow of Nazism is a problem in the historical memory of Latvia rather than a problem unique to its neopagans. But it is difficult to forget that the best-known revival of pagan religion in the mid-20th century to enjoy official support was Heinrich Himmler’s support for a German native faith. Whether or not the native faith movements can escape the shadow cast by fascism, we are likely to see more legislative activity similar to Latvia’s law on Dievturība. In both Estonia and Iceland, paganism is reportedly the second most practised religion after Christianity – and if native faiths are seen as a bulwark against religions brought by migrants in countries challenged by falling birth-rates, it is possible their popularity may only continue to grow.