On October 30, 2025, Latvia’s parliament made headlines across Europe by voting to withdraw from the Istanbul Convention, a landmark Council of Europe treaty designed to combat violence against women and domestic abuse. After a marathon 13-hour debate, 56 lawmakers voted in favor of withdrawal, 32 opposed, and two abstained. If the decision is ratified by President Edgars Rinkēvičs, Latvia will become the first European Union member state to formally renounce the convention, which it had only ratified in November 2024.
The Istanbul Convention, signed by 45 countries and the European Union as of 2019, obliges governments to enact laws and provide services aimed at preventing and addressing all forms of violence against women. It defines such violence as a human rights violation and calls for comprehensive measures to support victims. When Latvia ratified the treaty in 2024, it joined a growing list of European nations committed to tackling gender-based violence. However, the journey from ratification to withdrawal has revealed deep divisions within Latvian society and its political establishment.
The push to exit the convention began in September 2025, when opposition lawmakers, citing concerns echoed by ultra-conservative groups across Europe, initiated the withdrawal process. They argued that the treaty promotes what they call “gender ideology,” encourages sexual experimentation, and threatens traditional family values. The Union of Greens and Farmers (ZSS), an agrarian party and a member of the tripartite ruling coalition, broke ranks with Prime Minister Evika Siliņa’s center-right Unity party and sided with the opposition, giving the withdrawal movement the numbers it needed to pass.
Gunārs Gūtris, a ZSS lawmaker, defended the decision in an interview with Reuters: “This will not have the slightest impact on domestic violence. Protections against domestic abuse already existed in Latvian law even before the Istanbul Convention.” Many opponents of the treaty maintain that Latvia’s national laws are sufficient to address gender-based violence, and they object to the convention’s language around gender as a social construct, which they see as undermining traditional understandings of sex and family.
Prime Minister Evika Siliņa, who came to power in 2023 with a pledge to ratify the Istanbul Convention, has been an outspoken critic of the withdrawal effort. She even joined thousands of protesters outside parliament earlier in the week, declaring, “We will not give up, we will fight so that violence does not win.” Siliņa later wrote on social platform X, “Those who have been brave enough to seek help are now witnessing their experiences being used for political battles. It is cruel.” Her stance reflects the deep disappointment among many Latvians who saw the convention as a vital step forward for women’s rights.
The withdrawal vote has also exposed fractures within the governing coalition. The alliance between opposition and some governing lawmakers has highlighted tensions ahead of the next parliamentary elections, scheduled for autumn 2026. Another coalition member, the liberal Progressives party, has not ruled out appealing the decision to the Constitutional Court, suggesting the fight over the convention is far from over.
The public reaction has been intense. On the night before the vote, over 5,000 people gathered outside parliament in Riga to protest against the withdrawal, according to the Baltic News Service. The demonstration was one of the largest in recent Latvian history, signaling broad public concern. By contrast, only about 20 people rallied in favor of withdrawal the following day. In addition, 22,000 people signed a petition urging lawmakers to remain in the treaty, and the women’s rights group Centrs Marta called for further protests, accusing parliamentarians of ignoring the will of the people.
International condemnation was swift. The head of the Council of Europe’s parliamentary assembly, Theodoros Rousopoulos, described Latvia’s move as “an unprecedented and deeply worrying step backwards for women’s rights and human rights in Europe.” He cited Turkey’s withdrawal from the treaty in 2021, which was followed by a sharp rise in femicides and violence against women, as a cautionary tale. Tamar Dekanosidze of the international women’s rights organization Equality Now warned, “This decision not only endangers women and girls in Latvia, it emboldens anti-human rights movements across Europe and Central Asia, and supports authoritarian tendencies of governments moving away from the rule of law, international justice and democratic values.”
Supporters of withdrawal, however, have framed the issue in starkly different terms. Ainars Slesers, leader of the Latvia First party, urged citizens to choose between a “natural family” and “gender ideology with multiple sexes.” This rhetoric has resonated with some segments of the population who view the treaty as a threat to traditional values, even as critics argue that such claims are based on misinformation and fearmongering.
The legal and political future of the withdrawal remains uncertain. President Edgars Rinkēvičs, who has expressed his opposition to the move, now faces a pivotal decision. Under Latvian law, he can either sign the withdrawal into effect, return it to parliament for further consideration, or, under certain circumstances, trigger a national referendum. On October 30, Rinkēvičs stated on X that he would assess the decision “taking into account state and legal, rather than ideological or political, considerations.” The lack of a two-thirds majority in the parliamentary vote gives the president some leeway to send the bill back for another reading if he finds it unconstitutional.
Latvia’s move stands in contrast to developments elsewhere in Europe. Poland’s previous right-wing government had begun the process of withdrawing from the Istanbul Convention in 2020, but the plan was scrapped last year by the centrist administration of Prime Minister Donald Tusk. The Czech Republic’s parliament narrowly failed to ratify the convention in 2023, while Turkey’s 2021 withdrawal drew widespread criticism from the European Commission and human rights advocates.
Statistics from the European Institute for Gender Equality (EIGE) underscore the stakes of the debate: in 2022, 142 incidents of intimate partner violence against women were reported in Latvia, up from 109 in 2021. While these numbers are below the totals recorded during the COVID-19 pandemic, they highlight the persistent challenge of violence against women in the country.
As Latvia waits for President Rinkēvičs’s decision, the country finds itself at a crossroads—torn between competing visions of national identity, the rule of law, and its place within the European community. The outcome will not only shape the future of women’s rights in Latvia but may also set a precedent for other nations grappling with similar debates.
