Launching “Global Britain” after the United Kingdom leaves the European Union has always been part of the Brexiteers’ dream. Thus some heads were turned when the Irish government presented the “Global Ireland 2025” initiative in the middle of 2018, at a time when Brexit negotiations in Brussels where going through yet another nervy patch. Dublin wants to “double the scope and impact of Ireland’s global footprint.” The twist is, it is doing so from within the EU.

The initiative includes setting up new embassies and revamping existing missions in the “Ireland House” format, which brings trade promotion agencies and Government officials under one roof. A commensurately large recruitment process for diplomats is nearing completion. Public outreach efforts have included a documentary painting the Irish diplomat as the “thin green line” protecting Irish interests abroad. Schoolchildren are regularly invited into Iveagh House, the seat of the diplomatic service. Officials are lobbying strongly in support of Ireland’s bid for a seat on the UN Security Council in 2020.

Of course, Brexit provides the background to this move, which Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Leo Varadkar has told parliamentarians could cost €300 million by 2027. Throughout the torturous negotiations, Irish officials have worked feverishly to prevent a hard border on the island and protect the Good Friday Agreement. Bilateral institutions set up under the 1998 treaty have once again found themselves on the front pages as old channels of communication between Dublin and London are dusted off. For any Irish Government, a hard border represents a legacy-defining failure. The UK’s departure from the EU represents the crystallization of Irish fears about a backlash against an international order that has benefited the country in many ways.

Ireland’s trade ambitions

This is not really about finding new international partners after being abandoned by Mother Britannia, though. Tánaiste and Minister for Foreign Affairs Simon Coveney has clearly distinguished between Brexit and his department’s expansion. In early January, he warned, “while cognizant of the immense challenges our country faces with Brexit, it is critical that we plan for our future.” This hints that the underlying motive behind the “most ambitious renewal and expansion of Ireland’s international presence ever” is to future-proof Ireland’s ability to protect its interests.

The economic imperative to diversify Ireland’s trade makeup thus represents an equally important factor. Ireland’s existing trade partners are turning inwards, as new markets open themselves to outside competition.

In the United States–the destination for just over 25 percent of Irish exports–President Donald Trump is urging his citizens to turn away from foreign-made goods and services. The specter of a US-EU trade war looms, a conflict in which Irish business would suffer deeply. And the UK’s trading relationship with the EU—if it is to be formalized at all—remains to be determined. Uncertainty is rife.

On one hand, then, Irish exporters are facing reduced access to existing markets. On the other, the EU continues to prize open new markets with trade deals. Global Ireland seeks to take advantage of a trend noted in a 2015 policy review, which remarked that “an expanding global economy offers opportunities for exports [and] increased competition.” The Taoiseach has noted a desire to build stronger ties across Asia in response to a southward and eastward shift in “global economic and political power.”

The EU-Japan free trade deal, which came into effect last week, has warranted the biggest-ever capital investment in a new building in Tokyo. It is telling that the new Irish representation in Tokyo will house not just the embassy, but the gamut of state agencies: where goes Irish business, so goes the Irish Government. There is also a desire to take advantage of the MERCOSUR-EU trade deal that is in the works; thus the new missions in Santiago and Bogotá.

Underpinning this is a desire to protect the liberal international order, particularly with Brexit having demonstrated the value of international institutions to a small state. One commentator has derided the UNSC campaign as an “exercise in vanity”. From a strategic perspective, however, such a view disregards the utility of such organizations in today’s world, where international organizations amplify the voices of weak actors and restrain would-be hegemons. Amid the possible fraying of the US’ once-ironclad security guarantee in Europe and a global backlash against free trade, Dublin is taking a proactive stance in defense of multilateralism and its accoutrements.

In Support of the International Order

In this context, Global Ireland has two aims: to counteract the disintegration of international order and to shore up the state’s capacity to deal with similar challenges in future. Irish engagement with the New Hanseatic League provides an example of the first: Dublin has enthusiastically embraced the grouping of fiscally-conservative Northern EU states who have banded together after the loss of London’s restraining influence on Brussels.

The second goal–to improve the state’s reactive capability–is pursued through the re-organization of its apparatus: more missions will follow the “Ireland House” format, enabling closer cooperation between agencies and departments. The ECFR’s coalition calculator shows a disconcertingly isolated Ireland in a post-Brexit EU. By reinforcing embassies in Berlin and Paris with mid- and senior-level diplomatic talent, Dublin hopes to improve bilateral links with domestic powerbrokers, improving communication channels during crises.

The biggest risk facing Global Ireland is that political pressure will lead to its truncation. The Government may face pressure to lower spending on it in a worst-case Brexit scenario, which is now projected to lower Irish GDP by 4.25 percent by 2023. Assuming this pitfall is avoided, what would success for Global Ireland look like? Irish businesses continue to expand across the globe through 2025. A successful term on the UN Security Council sees Dublin emphasize openness and condemn intolerance across the globe. The island’s border remains peaceful and open as today. A fractious EU becalms itself and the storm of populism subsides.

As a small state, Ireland can hardly ever ensure these outcomes alone. But Global Ireland 2025 will maximize the country’s impact.

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© REUTERS/Sergei Karpukhin

In late July, President Vladimir Putin signed law 276-FZ , which amended the federal law “on information, information technologies, and information protection.” With a stoke of his pen, he tightened the net of censorship in Russia even further. The law bans anonymous messaging applications and the use of virtual private networks (VPNs), both of which are used to communicate and browse the internet free from government snooping. While wildly popular with young Russians, one such encrypted messenger was reportedly used by the perpetrators of April’s terrorist attack in St. Petersburg – and the Telegram app’s founder, Pavel Durov, has been locked in a power struggle with authorities, having refused to provide them with backdoor access to the app’s databases.

There are therefore legitimate concerns over the role such technology plays in terrorist attacks. On the other hand, the timing and nature of Law 276 indicates a purpose beyond making life difficult for potential terrorists. In recent months, independent media outlets have also come under increased pressure: at the popular Vedomosti daily, a new editor-in-chief has been brought in from state-run TV, while the Moscow Times has also experienced editorial reshuffles. Such crackdowns had been relatively infrequent in the months prior, making these two all the more unusual.

It would be naive to assume that these events are not linked. The government is facing a level of domestic unrest not seen since the 2011 protests at Bolotnaya Square. Populist firebrand Alexei Navalny is mounting a ferocious political campaign on an anti-corruption platform, organizing several marches throughout the country, and anti-regime bloggers have become so prominent that they are being doused with fluorescent antiseptic by pro-regime activists as a method of public intimidation.

In light of this, two explanations exist for the introduction of this law. The most obvious is that the Kremlin has realized the need to re-assert its grip on the information sphere. From this perspective, Law 276 should be interpreted simply as updating the Kremlin’s legal toolkit. Packing editorial boards with cronies helps to control the narrative in print media, but there are few such boards in the deep web; the tech sector has inserted itself into the media and communication sphere, rendering almost useless the state’s previous playbook for controlling public narratives. Just as the SORM initiative was introduced as the internet exploded in popularity in the 1990s, Law 276 represents a riposte to the advance of technology in the late 2010s.

Russia is far from alone in fighting against encrypted messaging – the pitched battle between WhatsApp and US law enforcement is evidence of this. Yet intelligence services are – or should be – loath to conduct their business in the open. If the FSB or CIA can access these ostensibly secure services, the public would surely not be informed; in any case, introducing new legal tools will not help the state to crack encryption.

A Political Signal

When viewed in the context of the boardroom-level struggles of recent months, it becomes clear that the Kremlin is not seeking to improve its snooping capability. Rather, the explanation lies in its desire to send a political signal. If existing ways of browsing anonymously are banned, it will surely not be long before new tools are invented. A truly determined terrorist will simply turn off his or her phone to avoid being tracked. On the other hand, a curious young Russian may not want to break the law simply to understand why Putin has a $1 million watch. The Russian public will appreciate seeing the state taking apparently concrete steps to combat terrorism. Meanwhile, protest movements – often organized through Telegram and similar apps – will now become harder to convene, with their leaders facing prosecution even before taking to a stage.

This tells us two things. First, the state is getting increasingly worried about Navalny and his ilk. Anonymous messaging and browsing existed long before the horrific attack on St. Petersburg’s underground, and limiting them will be ineffectual in preventing further violence. This law, then, is a reaction to the increasingly vocal political unrest. Introducing new legislation is a relatively cost-effective way of discouraging Russians from engaging in investigative journalism at home. Such a tactic is also politically savvy, signaling to domestic audiences that the government is tough on crime and terrorism.

Second, the Kremlin has made it clear that it is not giving up on the fight against encryption just yet. Even as it appears increasingly difficult to entirely ring-fence political opposition and limit their influence on mainstream Russian narratives, the pitched battle continues between a privacy-obsessed tech sector and a state which abhors being in the dark about its citizens’ browsing habits. For those who want anonymity online – terrorists and dissidents alike – Putin has a message for you: you’re being watched.

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© REUTERS/Raheb Homavandi

At the height of the conflict in Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea, as tensions with Europe bubbled dangerously close to the surface, a major energy crisis emerged: Ukraine and other parts of Europe are very much dependent upon Russia for oil and gas, and there were serious concerns over disruptions to that energy supply.

Moscow’s gas and oil exporting firms jockeyed for the spotlight in an expanding political drama. But the state nuclear corporation, Rosatom, took the opportunity to reassure the world market it steers clear of politics.

“Nuclear should be out of all political discussions, all temporary disagreements, because it is a very sensitive area and first and foremost it is all about safety,” Kirill Komarov, the deputy director general, told Reuters news agency.

The company has long touted its reputation as a neutral player. Executives point to Rosatom’s global customer base and expanding network of “memoranda of understanding” – primarily symbolic agreements the state can use to preserve its place within an emerging energy market and reinforce the perception of Russia as a global power.

Yet these professions of non-partisanship have begun to ring hollow. Western policymakers and experts continue to underappreciate and underestimate the role of nuclear energy in the Russian foreign policy toolkit. Rosatom is increasingly asserting its economic clout in pursuit of the Kremlin’s geopolitical interests – both in hard and soft power.

Calculated Responses

In late 2007, Russia and Iran were locked in negotiations over Iran’s nuclear program. By shipping fuel to Iran’s Bushehr power plant, Moscow sought to halt enrichment of uranium and bolster its image as a responsible international player ready to shoulder its share of the global governance burden. The Kremlin would benefit by succeeding where the United States had failed.

Yet diplomatic efforts broke down and Tehran refused to provide assurances that enrichment would be halted, so Rosatom suspended its deliveries. The official explanation – widely dismissed by Russia watchers – was that Iranian authorities had failed to pay. In reality, such indiscretions were relatively common, making the timing of Moscow’s drastic move somewhat suspicious.

Almost a decade later, the same situation arose in Ukraine – twice. Following the 2014 Ukrainian Revolution, the Kremlin  announced an embargo on the transit of fuel through Ukraine, citing the “unstable situation” as an unacceptable level of risk. With its reactors running dry, the Ukrainian government was faced with disaster on a colossal scale. Rosatom’s chief, Sergei Kiriyenko, ostensibly refused to comply with the Kremlin’s wishes, yet two years later, Rosatom’s subsidiary responsible for the fuel cycle, TVEL, announced it would no longer import spent fuel rods from Ukraine due to non-payment. Lacking appropriate disposal methods, the fuel rods were stored in precarious makeshift shelters.

All this occurred, of course, as conflict raged in eastern Ukraine. Gazprom continued to offer relatively discounted prices to its Ukrainian customers, exercising what Adam Stulberg calls “strategic restraint” – and continuing a trend of relative leniency which made Rosatom’s assertiveness all the more puzzling.

Turkey has also found itself as the object of Rosatom’s displeasure, having downed a Russian SU-24M jet in disputed circumstances. Russia imposed an array of economic sanctions in retaliation, and Rosatom halted work on Akkuyu, Turkey’s first nuclear power plant. Akkuyu was not officially part of the sanctions package, but progress returned to normal after Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan issued a formal apology for the incident.

Soft and Hard Power

Coercion aside, nuclear energy has also been an effective tool of Russian soft power. The corporation builds, owns, operates, and occasionally transports a power plant to clients, reducing initial costs significantly and giving it a uniquely broad potential market. In this sense, Rosatom is a highly efficacious vehicle for Russian global influence, making excellent use of Russia’s comparative advantage over the West in the nuclear sector.

The “memorandum of understanding” is the central tool in this soft-power push. Such documents are signed between Rosatom and governments, competitors, and state agencies alike. Despite lacking legal force, a memorandum provides a public roadmap for areas of future cooperation: education and training programs on nuclear energy are announced and joint working groups are founded. If memoranda agreements fail to yield results, Rosatom has nonetheless helped construct an image of Russia as a global power. Such agreements play well to the domestic audience, too.

There is another, more practical, reason for these documents. Nuclear technology is generally not cross-compatible: Russian models cannot use American or French fuel without an element of risk. By training local engineers to use its reactors, Rosatom will have created a degree of path dependency. If Sudan is to invest in nuclear energy in the future, for example, its previous experience with Russian technology will likely influence its choice of partner company. Unlike natural gas or oil, nuclear energy provides a guaranteed source of influence that cannot be blocked off like a pipeline. The construction of a nuclear power plant creates a deeply asymmetrical relationship. The Memorandum of Understanding can also be a cost-efficient way of securing future deals.

The Paradox of Rosatom

The Kremlin has shown it does not respond well to perceived disrespect. By announcing that nuclear enrichment would not stop, Tehran undermined the work and status of Russian diplomats, for example. In Moscow’s view, the overthrow of President Yanukovych in Ukraine represented an unacceptable incursion by Western forces into the Russian sphere of influence.

And yet, Russia’s foreign policy establishment prides itself on its pragmatism. A realist world view dictates that perceptions of respect should not hold sway in the decision-making processes. Therein lies the paradox of Rosatom: the corporation is co-opted for geopolitical gain when Russia’s great power status is disrespected. This nebulous concept is difficult to reconcile with the realpolitik that often drives Russian policy.

The combination of pragmatism and idealism is a well-trodden path for Russian actors in international affairs. Just like Gazprom, Rosatom has shown an ability both to cooperate and coerce. By combining tangible goals with the soft-power offensive led by the memoranda of understanding, the corporation has demonstrated three of the most pertinent concepts to have characterized Russia’s international engagement in the last decade: pragmatism, speed of response, and zero-sum thinking.

The weaponization of Rosatom also allowed the Kremlin to avoid other, riskier methods of retaliation: another gas crisis in Ukraine would have angered Russia’s downstream energy customers, while open military conflict with Turkish forces would have trod dangerously close towards NATO’s Article V commitments. At the same time, Rosatom itself appears to be deployed in a restrained manner. The Akkuyu nuclear plant was not cancelled, but suspended; the corporation’s chief refused to suspend deliveries of fuel to Ukraine. It appears Moscow is unwilling to exceed the boundaries.

One thing seems to be clear: any component of the Russian state may be co-opted for political reasons. Even a corporation which argues fervently that it does not pursue political aims may be obliged to do so. If Russia views state-controlled assets as a potential weapon, it holds a vast array of policy tools at its disposal – and Rosatom may be the tip of the iceberg.

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