The Baltic Calculation: Fear Meets Principle on the Russian Border
Imagine standing at a border, not knowing what tomorrow might bring. This is the reality for many in Latvia, a nation haunted by a long and painful history of foreign domination—and now, looming once again in the face of Russian aggression. Latvia’s parliament, in a controversial vote, has decided to extricate itself from the Ottawa Convention, an international treaty banning the use, production, and stockpiling of anti-personnel landmines. This marks Latvia as the first country worldwide to formally abandon the treaty since its inception in 1997.
Amid mounting unease following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Latvia’s lawmakers supported withdrawal by a substantial margin (66 to 14, according to official tallies). Their rationale: survival in an era when old certainties about European peace are rapidly evaporating. Foreign Affairs Committee Chair Inara Murniece argued, “Withdrawal from the Ottawa Convention will give our armed forces all possible means to defend our citizens.” The sentiment is echoed by neighboring states. Estonia, Lithuania, Poland, and Finland—each sharing uneasy borders with Russia or Belarus—are preparing similar exits, citing identical concerns. It’s clear that what’s happening on Latvia’s eastern frontier isn’t just a local matter. It’s a regional, even global, warning shot across the bow of post-Cold War norms.
According to a recent analysis from the International Campaign to Ban Landmines, the abandonment of these treaties signals more than just a wartime adjustment: it signals a retreat from the idea that global agreements can meaningfully restrain violence. Russia, notably, is not a signatory to the Ottawa Convention and stands accused of extensive mine usage across Ukrainian territory—a cold reminder that norms only work when all parties uphold them.
The Human Cost: Civilians in the Shadow of Landmines
Yet beyond national security calculations, history offers a stark lesson for those cheering this decision. The legacy of anti-personnel landmines is not measured solely in military advantage, but in the lives upended or cut short, often years or decades after conflicts end. The Ottawa Convention was born from the horror of wars where children, farmers, and the innocent bore the cost of hasty battlefield decisions. In war-torn regions like Cambodia, Bosnia, and Afghanistan, the deadly legacy of mines endures—crippling postwar recovery, instilling constant fear, and demanding immense resources for clearance.
Dr. Rachel Stohl, a leading arms-control expert at the Stimson Center, warns that “landmines don’t recognize the end of wars—only the end of legs and lives.” The UN estimates that over 5,000 people, many of them children, fall victim to landmines globally every year, most long after the battle has moved elsewhere (UN Mine Action Service Report, 2022).
The reality is that strategic necessity should never overshadow the moral imperative to protect civilians. The renewed embrace of landmines—even under existential threat—risks re-normalizing their use, unraveling one of the most hard-fought victories of international humanitarian law. Latvia may only intend to deter Russian advances, but such moves risk setting off a cascade that undermines decades of painstaking progress in arms control.
“Landmines don’t recognize ceasefires or treaties—they keep claiming victims long after the headlines move on.”
Strategic Dilemmas and the Liberal Response: Between Security and Conscience
A closer look reveals that such policy reversals are often less about immediate necessity, and more about a broader fear-driven retreat from collective security architecture. The argument put forth by Baltic leaders—that the existential threat posed by Russia requires every available means of defense—cannot simply be dismissed out of hand. But one must ask: At what cost to our shared humanity and international credibility?
Arguments in Riga’s parliament and beyond suggest that since Russia ignores global rules, Latvia and its neighbors must too. This is a dangerously reductionist logic. Harvard security scholar Dr. Erica Chenoweth reminds us that “the power of international law lies not in perfect compliance by all, but in the collective will to set boundaries to horror.” Unilateral abandonment risks a downward spiral, a global race to the bottom, where the worst behaviors become the baseline and the world is left to pick through the aftermath.
History is replete with moments when fear trumped reason—the mass internments of the Cold War, the curtailment of civil liberties in the name of counterterrorism, the arming of proxies in the world’s shadowy conflicts. Each time, societies paid a heavy price. The lesson is clear for those who embrace progressive, rational security: national defense and humanitarian principles must coexist. Sacrificing basic human decency is not a strategic win; it is collateral damage we inflict on our own souls.
Is the cost of a fleeting sense of security really worth undoing a global commitment that has saved countless innocent lives?
Liberals and advocates of a rules-based order face a painful moment. How do you defend your home when the world’s rules feel so easily broken? The answer must be, as always, with resolve—both to resist aggression and to uphold principles of justice and collective responsibility. Precedent matters. Reinforcing international treaties, investing in smarter, more humane defensive technologies, and doubling down on diplomatic efforts to expand the circle of compliance offer a path that does not surrender to either terror or cynicism.
Latvia’s retreat from the Ottawa Convention sends ripples that will long outlast this week’s vote. Whether we see it as natural wartime prudence or a dangerous abandonment of humanitarian ideals, one undeniable truth remains: the future of global security depends not just on what we guard, but on what we refuse to abandon—even when afraid.
