"Everyone Who Wanted To Found a Job." How Belarusian IT Specialists Live in Latvia

Devby.io asked an IT specialist who moved to Latvia after 2020 to assess the job market in general and the IT industry in particular.

— Belarusian emigrants are very diverse. Among them are alcoholics, those who have served sentences, people with many life problems, people with disabilities, the elderly, girls who got married, IT specialists, farmers, a very famous blogger-mechanic, artists, businessmen, scientists from the Academy of Sciences. It is very difficult to generalize how well or poorly they feel in the Latvian labor market.

The job market in Latvia is generally small: for a specific specialty, there might only be a choice of two to four enterprises, or none at all. But there's a shortage of people, and it seems everyone who wanted to found a job. Perhaps not in their profession, perhaps with a lower salary (although salaries are decent), but it's possible to find a job.

As an IT specialist, I can tell you about my industry. The banking software sector is very developed in the Baltic countries; there are many international companies here, including banks. Salaries are good: for example, a business analyst earns an average of 3-4 thousand euros gross (subtract a third for taxes). I myself work in an international company that creates various products, and my division specializes in developing software for processing card payments.

Until recently, there was a wide selection of vacancies. I myself changed jobs twice, and both times the search took no more than a month. True, the last time was a long time ago — in 2021. Nevertheless, until this year, no crisis was felt in the industry: I heard nothing about layoffs or salary freezes; on the contrary, salaries grew by 6-10% per year (although after the high inflation of 2022, they never returned to 2021 levels in real terms).

But in 2026, due to AI, everything has slumped. Companies don't know what future awaits them, so they are holding back on hiring new employees and salary growth. This even applies to those AI specialties that artificial intelligence does not affect in any way.

— If I had to look for a job now, it would not be easy. Perhaps I would have to sacrifice salary or go to another EU country — like Poland or Lithuania, where the market is larger.

But the problem here is not with Latvia — it's just the current global situation. Everyone is thinking about how to restructure their companies to integrate AI into their processes. Until they understand how to do this and find investments, hiring will not resume. The AI bubble needs to burst, and a real understanding of the situation needs to emerge.

For other professions, war and sanctions have a much greater impact than AI. Transit and trade in the north-south, west-east directions were among the most important economic drivers for the Baltic countries. With the start of the war, they no longer exist. Because of this, economic growth has slowed down, prices for many goods have risen, and as a result, industries that previously benefited from trade and transit earnings are suffering.

Restaurants, construction, even the Rail Baltica project and the national airline airBaltic are in crisis, as they relied on passenger traffic from Belarus and Russia. At the same time, the defense industry is growing.

As for migrants from Belarus, in many cases, they have no choice. Latvia is not Poland (a completely different language, a smaller market); most Belarusians came here not for earnings but to ensure personal safety for themselves and their families.

"There is high intolerance towards migrants in society in general"

Here's what a reader-programmer who moved to Latvia in 2018 says:

— Latvia indeed has a special situation: there are restrictions on real estate acquisition by citizens of Russia and Belarus, and there are difficulties with bank accounts.

At the same time, legalization is quite standard. For new migrants, the biggest difficulty is initially getting into Latvia: companies no longer consider the relocation of citizens of Belarus or Russia. But for those who entered on a Blue Card between 2020 and 2022, everything is quite smooth. They continue to live and work. After five years of legal work and a successful Latvian language exam at A2 level, you transition to the status of a permanent resident (ПМЖ), and this largely solves your legalization problems forever.

After another five years, if you wish, you take a naturalization exam (you need to know the language at B1 level) and wait for a decision on citizenship — up to one year. There are no living examples in my circle yet: no one has reached the second five-year mark.

The language situation is indecently dualistic. On the one hand, you can live peacefully in Latvia without Latvian — English and Russian are enough. But if you have children, you have to choose: either you go for deep immersion, or you look for more expensive education options.

At the time of the move, my elder son was finishing school, and it was impossible to prepare him for university admission in Latvian. So, he initially went to a paid college where instruction was in English and Russian. He then pursued higher education in another European country.

And the younger child was born in Latvia, and after kindergarten, they are absolutely ready for school. They speak Latvian like a native, even though neither my wife nor I, nor our nanny, speak Latvian. And for their education, I see fantastic opportunities here: my son attends a sports school and many clubs for free, even though we don't live in Riga.

Yes, the Latvian language is very difficult, but there are so many textbooks, courses, YouTube channels here that passing the A2 exam is not hard. I dedicated three months to learning the language: I studied every day for two to eight hours (on weekends) and passed the exam on the first attempt with plenty of room to spare.

Of course, attitudes towards Russian speakers have changed a lot, but this happened not only in Latvia.

In 2018, there were Russian schools here; it was such a Russian-speaking country that I felt much the same as in Minsk. However, I still feel good now.

But yes, there are things we don't like. We don't like the anti-migrant policy, not only towards Russian speakers but also towards those who came from afar.

What I see concerning people with darker complexions, I consider unacceptable for Europe. Paradoxically, this somewhat protects Russian-speaking migrants.

I have a Latvian friend with whom we walk our dogs. She says that there is now high intolerance towards migrants in society in general, especially towards newcomers from India and other Asian countries. They are so noticeable on the streets and residents react so sharply to them that suddenly people with Slavic appearance have become liked.

So, as my friend says, "everything's fine, you're already ours, but we don't like these ones."

We are not planning to leave yet: our daily life is settled, and work is not bad. Although our elder son will build his career outside of Latvia.

"If I didn't have a European passport, we wouldn't be able to live here"

Here's what EPAM co-founder Leanid Lozner, who has been living in Latvia for almost six years, says.

— Back in 2012, we bought a plot of land near the town of Cēsis. This is the heart of Latvia, surrounded by Gauja National Park, a very beautiful place.

There is a beautiful ecological village Amatciems here, conceived by a Latvian businessman during that good period when Latvia was quite friendly to Russian-speaking newcomers and actively sold them residence permits (ДНЖ). It issued documents for five years to property owners, and then continued them indefinitely.

During this time, we built a house here. Initially, we came here as a dacha (country house), and in December 2020, we moved permanently. We decided it would be better to observe from the side how quickly our homeland would return to a peaceful state. We are still waiting.

— How has the attitude towards you personally and towards Russian-speaking migrants in general changed in Latvia over the past years?

From the state's side, it has become much more difficult. Many people I communicated with after 2020 are no longer in Latvia. My IT friends mostly live in Poland or Cyprus. Some remain in Latvia but are already contemplating.

If I didn't have a European (Portuguese) passport, we wouldn't be able to live here.

In our village, the first changes became noticeable back in 2014: new Russian buyers stopped appearing because Latvia tightened real estate regulations. At that time, it only concerned Russians, but since 2022, it also applies to Belarusians.

But we have already integrated into this life. The nature here is similar to Braslaŭščyna or Naračanski Krai — my favorite places in Belarus. In this sense, I feel at home. The cultural environment is also quite close to me. But I never learned the Latvian language, as I still hope to return to my homeland.

— Does the lack of language create discomfort?

In everyday life, practically none. Still, Latvians are more tolerant towards Russian-speaking newcomers than towards their own Russian-speaking compatriots who haven't really learned Latvian. In Cēsis, there's only one place — a stationery shop — where an older saleswoman grimaced when I first asked her something in Russian. Now I address her in English. True, she doesn't speak English very well, and she doesn't want to speak Russian. So, my most problematic purchase is stationery.

In other places, I don't feel any problems. I still know a few hundred Latvian words and always start a conversation with a greeting in Latvian.

After that, with older generations, I can switch to Russian, and it is always met with friendliness. With younger people, you should speak English immediately, and everything will also be fine.

Those I've known for a long time know that I am Belarusian and would like to return to Belarus; this justifies me in their eyes. Waiters in cafes, of course, don't know this. But if they hear my wife and I speaking Russian to each other, they smile and switch to Russian if they know it.

On the other hand, they might entirely assume that we are Ukrainian refugees. In general, all these narratives in Latvia are intertwined in an incredible way.

— Summarizing the Latvian topic: are you in Latvia because of real estate, because of a similar mentality and familiar climate?

Not the climate, actually: it's great here in summer, but sad in winter. It's 500 km north of Minsk, and the short daylight hours in winter are multiplied by cloudy skies — a depressing thing.

In terms of climate, I prefer Portugal. A friendly and charming country, but peculiar: very warm-hearted people live there, poorly adapted to systematic work. I, on the other hand, was raised in a tradition of responsibility and discipline, and encountering a society where these concepts are extremely weakened is a nightmare and a misunderstanding for me. So, still Latvia.

Here we have comfortable housing, and around us is very beautiful nature. You drive from our village to Cēsis for groceries, look around and think: how beautiful! Here I feel at home, almost like in the Lagoysk district, where I lived for the last 20 years before leaving. That's why I'm here.

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