© Frank Augstein/Pool via REUTERS

After the Brexit negotiations is before the Brexit negotiations. The first phase was difficult enough. The major difficulties stemmed from the UK’s side: Theresa May suffered more parliamentary defeats than her five predecessors together, and Boris Johnson also lost his theoretical majority within a few weeks. Only the snap elections at the end of 2019 provided clarity, after which the United Kingdom was able to leave in an orderly fashion after all on January 31, 2020.

The EU-27, on the other hand, were characterized by unusual unity. The Withdrawal Agreement secured the rights of EU citizens in the UK and the British commitments to the EU budget, and set a transition period until the end of 2020 and how to deal with the special situation in Northern Ireland. However, only the divorce issues of this complex separation are sorted out, with the exception of Northern Ireland. Now the real question of the Brexit needs to be answered: under what conditions should the EU cooperate with this ex-member, Europe’s second largest economy and a close NATO partner?

The political context for the next negotiations has changed significantly. First, Brexit has become irreversible, at least in the medium term. Until the end of January, remaining within the EU was still a possible outcome for the UK. According to the ruling of the European Court of Justice, London could have withdrawn the withdrawal notice at any time before the country had formally left the EU. The opponents of Brexit therefore focused on a second referendum: time and again, MPs in the House of Commons fought over whether Brexit should happen at all, and less about what should happen afterwards. This political struggle has now been decided.

Second, the negotiations are taking place under even greater time pressure than before. Article 50 set a two-year deadline for the withdrawal negotiations, which because of the internal political blockade in London had to be extended three times in order to prevent a no-deal Brexit. Partly because of these extensions, the transition phase set for the end of 2020 shrank to just eleven months, during which the future relationship is now to be negotiated. This is very ambitious compared to the average duration of about five years in EU free trade negotiations.

Moreover, the post-Brexit agreement is intended to regulate many more complex areas: economic cooperation in all its facets (goods, capital, services including financial ones, data, energy, mobility of persons, transport, aviation, fisheries), internal security (operational cooperation, data exchange), external security (foreign policy coordination, sanctions, CSDP operations) and a common institutional framework. Nevertheless, Prime Minister Johnson has publicly rejected the legally available option of extending the transition period and had it anchored in law that the UK shall not use it.

Danger of a No-Trade-Deal Brexit

The negotiators will thus have to finish a new accord within the remaining few months. At the end of the transition period, however, the threat is no longer a chaotic “no-deal Brexit”—after all, the UK has already left the EU in an orderly fashion. Instead, “only” a no-trade-deal Brexit looms, i.e. the UK leaving the EU single market and customs union without a trade agreement in place. It would be possible to avoid major chaos, but the economic consequences of the reintroduction of customs and border controls between the EU and the UK would be significant, in particular for the UK. However, London is playing down concerns about this outcome: Johnson now speaks of an “Australia model” as an alternative to a trade agreement. Australia does not have a fully-fledged trade agreement with the EU, but it does have arrangements for regulated dealings, for example regarding aviation. The political conclusion is paradoxical: precisely because the consequences of a no-trade-deal Brexit are less than those of a no-deal Brexit, political inhibitions are lower so the scenario has become more probable

Last but not least, the domestic political conditions in London are completely changed. Until December 2019, the British government, parliament, and society were deeply divided on Brexit and could not agree on a clear negotiating position. Compromises agreed by the UK government in Brussels rarely survived the infighting in the Conservative Party. The House of Commons in particular rejected a no-deal Brexit, but also voted down the Withdrawal Agreement, a second referendum, or any other Brexit option.

No Tory Rebels Left in Power

Although British society is still divided—a narrow majority now views Brexit as a mistake—the Brexiteers have achieved a resounding domestic success. With the slogan “Get Brexit Done,” Johnson captured the mood of the British electorate and won a clear majority in parliament. The much-contested ratification of the Withdrawal Agreement became a formality. At the same time, Johnson decisively triumphed in the Conservatives’ internal power struggle over their European policy, which has lasted for over 30 years. All members of the government and Tory deputies have had to subscribe to a policy of hard Brexit. Since the latest reshuffle, all major ministerial offices in cabinet were given to politicians who supported Brexit before the 2016 referendum.

It is symbolically important that none of the Tory rebels who pushed through the anti-no-deal legislation against the will of the government in autumn 2019 made it back into the House of Commons. Domestically, Johnson now has a largely free hand to set his Brexit policy. The only restraint may come from Northern Ireland and Scotland, as a hard Brexit would exacerbate the pressure on the union of the British state. Nevertheless, the direction for the UK government seems clear—a full break with the EU, with a regular free trade agreement but no conditions that would prevent the UK from setting its own standards, laws, or autonomous trade policy.

The EU and the United Kingdom are thus facing a different round of very critical negotiations. Unlike before, the line of conflict will no longer run through the British Parliament, but between London and Brussels. Although many structural factors are similar, this different political dynamic will fundamentally change the next phase of the Brexit negotiations. Therefore, the EU should not make the mistake of uncritically maintaining its—so far successful—approach. In the short time available for the negotiations, the EU-27 face four strategic challenges.

Developing a UK Model

The overarching challenge is to find a new model for cooperation with a large European third country that does not want to integrate into the EU. Until February 2020, the EU has avoided defining this model and retreated to the position that future relations with the United Kingdom could only be negotiated after the United Kingdom has withdrawn. Politically, the chaos in London and the possibility of a second referendum contributed to the fact that the EU-27 did not have to answer this question. In consequence, the most crucial matters of Brexit remained ambiguous in the first phase of negotiations, with the legally non-binding “political declaration” only sketching in what areas the UK and the EU want to cooperate in the future.

Now Johnson has clearly expressed a preference for a model with the greatest possible distance from the EU. He has also distanced himself from May’s ambitions to negotiate at least frictionless trade in goods, if not services. All the “soft” models of Brexit, from a customs union to deeper access to the internal market, are thus politically off the table. The EU member states, in their mandate for the next phase of the Brexit negotiations, are also aiming for a regular free trade agreement.

Viewed positively, there is thus common ground to start from. However, due to the UK’s geographic proximity, its economic size, and its close economic links to the EU after almost 50 years of joint membership, the EU and its member states want stricter provisions in terms of a level playing field than in other comparable trade agreements. Within the short time frame, the negotiators will therefore have to develop a new “UK model” of partnership―a new balance between close partnership, British and EU sovereignty, more limited access to the common market and to EU programs, and corresponding obligations.

Expanding the Barnier Method

Closely related to this is the second strategic task: to preserve the unity of the EU-27. In the first phase, the EU-27 succeeded in asserting their interests in part because they were more united than ever before. This unity was based on two factors.

On the one hand, the EU institutionally developed a clear, consistent negotiating line with the “Barnier method.” The European Commission and its chief negotiator Michel Barnier were given sole responsibility for the negotiations, and national governments did not conduct their own bilateral negotiations with London. At the same time, Barnier kept everyone on board with high transparency, a lot of technical coordination at the working and political level as well as very regular reassurances of support from the national capitals. On the other hand, the EU-27 also benefited from the political framework of the Article 50 negotiations, in which they were able to agree on a common objective—to protect the integrity of the EU and the internal market—with solidarity toward the special concerns of individual member states (Ireland in regards to its border to Northern Ireland, Central and Eastern Europeans in relation to their citizens in the UK, and so on).

In the negotiations now to come, the Commission will continue with the same method, as Barnier has been re-appointed and given a new mandate. Technically, the EU-27 are again very well prepared. However, it will become more difficult to maintain political unity. The EU-27 will have to make a dual strategic choice— both in terms of the trade-offs outlined above, but also of the priorities to be negotiated in the short transition period. The mandate that the EU states have given to the Commission is extensive, partly because they have not yet been able to decide between different priorities of the member states. Should the focus be on fisheries (important for North Sea countries), the level playing field (important for EU countries with strong economic ties to the UK) or security cooperation (important for Central and Eastern Europe)? Confronted with a British government that is strengthened at home and prepared to play off and promote differences between EU member states, the EU-27 therefore needs, in addition to good technical preparation and negotiation management by Barnier, stronger political coordination of the national governments.

Triangular negotiations

The third strategic challenge lies in a potential struggle with the United States over Britain’s trade, but also foreign and security policy anchoring. With Brexit, the UK is losing its already weakened role as a “transatlantic bridge.” Instead, London needs to reposition itself. From a European perspective, it is important to prevent London from turning fully toward the US.

In trade policy, triangular negotiations are on the agenda for 2020—the UK wants to negotiate simultaneously with Washington and Brussels, and the EU and the US government have also begun talks on a (less ambitious) trade agreement. Although the UK trades much more with the EU than the US, a quick agreement with Washington is of the utmost political importance for the Brexit proponents. US President Donald Trump also has an interest in a success before the US elections in November 2020. Publicly known US negotiating goals include opening up the UK markets for US products that would not be admissible under current EU regulatory standards. Similarly, the EU wants to establish level playing field provisions to ensure that existing European standards are maintained in the UK, if not—as demanded by some national governments—a “dynamic” alignment to EU standards. London wants to use these triangular negotiations to its advantage. The EU will thus also have to consider the global dimension in the negotiations with the British government. Protecting existing standards, for example, may be more in the European interest than a very hard negotiation stance insisting on dynamic alignment, and thus driving London into the arms of Washington.

Albeit under different circumstances, this also applies to foreign and security policy. Remarkably, since 2016, the British government has taken a stronger European stance on foreign policy issues where the Trump government and the majority of Europeans differ. This applies, for example, to dealing with Iran, the Paris Climate Accords or, most recently, Huawei in 5G infrastructure. So far it has also been possible to separate tensions in the Brexit negotiations from foreign policy cooperation. Even after Brexit, the EU states, above all Germany and France, have an interest in involving London in foreign and security policy. This will not, or only to a very limited extent, be achieved through the EU institutions, where the UK as a third country cannot have a seat. What is needed here is close bilateral and multilateral cooperation such as the E3 group on Iran, without undermining the EU framework.

Forging a New Partnership

The forthcoming negotiations with London will be difficult and again tie up a lot of political energy and attention in the EU. The pressure on the unity of EU-27 will increase. The changed political dynamic in London also means that the risk of a domino effect is returning. Until now, the chaos in London encouraged a perception of Brexit as a deterrent in other EU countries. Now Johnson is the political winner, at least domestically, whereas negative economic consequences have not (yet) materialized to such a large extent. In the medium to long term, the UK can become a close partner, but also an economic and political counter-model to EU integration. Even now, hard-core Brexit supporters argue that London should support euroskeptics across Europe.

The EU’s response to this challenge cannot be to “punish” Britain by making negotiations as tough as possible. While the EU should draw a clear dividing line between membership and partnership, it has a vested interest in placing the partnership with London on a lasting and successful footing. The fourth strategic task is therefore ultimately the most important one for the EU: strengthening itself and increasing the attractiveness of EU membership. After all, the best response to the challenges posed by the Brexit would be to demonstrate the advantages of the successful model of European integration.          

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© United States Library of Congress via REUTERS

Since the election of Donald Trump in 2016, the transatlantic relationship has been severely shaken. Diplomatic and security structures that dated back to 1945 have looked to be suddenly in danger of collapsing.

On climate change and Iran policy, the United States and Europe have parted ways: US actions have undermined European strategy in these areas. On trade, there is the potential for a real collision given President Trump’s rhetoric, but the key change since 2016 has been atmospheric. The tone has altered and with it, the expectations for the future. The United States has proven not so much an intransigent partner as an unreliable ally, leaving Europe with the difficult job of navigating its way to military autonomy on a timeline that leaves it dependent on the United States (whoever its president is) for decades to come.

The greatest analytical challenge of the Trump era is to break free from the day-to-day turbulence and to identify the underlying patterns. Yesterday’s crisis fades into today’s and tomorrow’s, many of them meaningless. Politics is subordinated to the theatrical imperatives of a theatrical man. Placing the Trump White House to the side of the larger narrative, there are three historical patterns that have defined the deterioration in transatlantic relations since the end of the Cold War. Because they pre-date the Trump presidency, they will outlive the Trump presidency.

No Need for Pessimism

The first is an uncertain commitment to Europe, and a lack of clarity on Europe’s place vis-à-vis the economic and strategic interests of the United States. The second is the extreme partisanship of American politics, to which relations with Europe can easily fall victim. The third is the transformation of the cultural foundation for the transatlantic relationship. Taken together, these three patterns may amount to an American abandonment of the West in a second Trump term or with a Democratic successor to Trump. This scenario is hardly implausible. It haunts much of the contemporary policy writing and thinking on the transatlantic relationship.

Yet Europeans interested in preserving the transatlantic relationship need not be fatalistic or even pessimistic. Historical patterns can be converted into lessons, and lessons into policies, helping to establish conditions for the survival of the transatlantic West.

To forestall a crack-up of the West, and regardless of who is elected in November 2020, “Atlanticist” European policymakers should pursue three lines of effort toward the United States. They should emphasize the many interests shared by the United States and Europe, since these are no longer self-evident in the United States. They should build relationships with Americans on both sides of the political spectrum, so as not to be too closely aligned with the fortunes of the Democratic Party, and they should invest in a cultural diplomacy that evokes the open-ended future rather than the Cold War past.

The Cold War Alliance

World War II and the early Cold War brought the United States to Europe, making the case for the United States as a European power. An intertwined set of interests set the US strategy. Hitler demonstrated the damage that could be done when a single power, hostile to the United States, gained control of continental Europe’s economic assets. A remilitarized Nazi Germany rapidly seized territory between 1939 and 1941, making it a nightmare for the United States to defeat. The US was forced to partner with an unsavory ally like the Soviet Union and, even then, the push into Europe’s South, through Italy, and into Europe’s West, through Normandy, was immensely costly. The fear that what had been required after Pearl Harbor would be required again, were the Soviet Union to advance into Western Europe, spooked American policy makers, from Harry Truman to Dwight Eisenhower. The United States stayed in Europe after 1945 in order to deter the Soviet Union from dominating the territory that for several centuries had been the center of global military and economic power. The urgency of such interests for Washington resulted in the Marshall Plan and in the NATO alliance, both initiatives that demanded sacrifice from the United States.

The economic situation highlighted another kind of American interest in postwar Western Europe. Europe was an excellent market for American goods—from Coca Cola to Hollywood films. Prior to the outbreak of war in 1939, Europe and the United States had a symbiotic relationship in economics and finance, a measure of which was a long-standing willingness of Europeans to invest in the American economy. In 1945, much of Europe lay in ruins, but that turned into an economic opportunity. A reconstituted Western European economy represented an array of interconnected advantages for the United States. It minimized the chances for another world war. It kept the Soviet Union at bay, and it contributed to a virtuous cycle of economic growth in Europe and the United States.

A Londoner and a Berliner

Awareness of these interests helped to solidify bi-partisan support for a “pro-European” American foreign policy in Washington. The Democrat Woodrow Wilson had pioneered this foreign policy in theory after World War I. He had failed, however, to convince the Republican Party to come along. It was a lesson Wilson’s Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, could not forget. Nor could Roosevelt’s Wilsonian Vice President, Harry Truman. World War II was so grave and so enormous an operation that it could never have been handled by the Democratic Party alone. Truman devoted substantial political resources to getting Republicans on Capitol Hill behind the Marshall Plan.

Meanwhile, Dwight Eisenhower, NATO’s first commander, was so distressed by the prospect of an isolationist Republican Party that he decided to run for president in 1952. When he was elected, Eisenhower did not break from the foreign policies of Democratic administrations that had been in power since 1932. Although he changed emphasis here and there with US Cold War strategy—on covert action and on using nuclear weapons—this was a question of fine tuning the strategy, not reversing it. Eisenhower, who had declared himself a “Londoner” in a 1945 speech in the United Kingdom, put the American commitment to a transatlantic West at the center of his foreign policy. When John F. Kennedy much more famously declared himself a “Berliner” in the summer of 1963 he was speaking and acting in an established political tradition.

While interests directed American strategy toward Europe, bi-partisanship strengthened a Europe-oriented American foreign policy. Culture was part of the mix as well. The political elite that created American foreign policy in the 1940s and 1950s was the product of an extremely europhile and eurocentric higher education. Students were educated to believe in the goodness of the West and in the notion that the United States was an integral part of the West. This education furnished figures like Acheson and Dulles with a vocabulary for justifying American “leadership” of the West, which, if it meant anything tangible at all, meant the security commitment to Western Europe. When he was assassinated in 1963, President John F. Kennedy earned the high praise of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, which stated in its obituary that studying at Harvard had made him into “a European.”

Who Is Illegitimate?

In each of these domains—perceived interests, bi-partisanship, culture—the end of the Cold War was the beginning of a new era. Centers of economic power diversified in the 1990s, the heyday of globalization. It was no longer possible to claim with such strategic certainty that the economy of Western Europe was the key to global power. By the 1990s, there were at least a dozen economic keys to global power, which was hardly contained in individual nation states but in the form of multi-national companies that made a mockery of national borders. This put Europe into a new kind of foreign-policy equation for the United States, one that was less geographically concentrated than in the past.

Meanwhile, by the 1990s and beyond, Europe had succeeded beyond the most elaborate fantasy of American policymakers in the 1940s. It was no hotbed of great-power militarism but, in the form of the European Union, it was expanding peaceful structures that were quite welcoming to American companies and that, as in the past, were conducive to European investment in the United States: richer Europe, richer United States. Indeed, by the outset of the 21st century Europe was so rich that the American military commitment to Europe was strategically sensible but nevertheless something of an anachronism, a legacy of the past that was a less and less rational construct—if not for Europeans, then in the eyes of the American taxpayer.

Internally, American politics would never recover from the Vietnam War, which saw the United States split into at least two competing parts. However, discontent did not boil over in the 1970s and 1980s, and for all the high drama of the Watergate scandal and its aftermath, there was considerable foreign-policy continuity during the presidencies of Richard Nixon, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush. But the seething discontent did not recede either. Without the Soviet enemy there to superimpose some order on domestic American politics, warring factions started to collide in the 1990s.

The impeachment of Bill Clinton suggested that for Clinton’s Republican opponents, he was in some way an illegitimate president. After an initial burst of patriotism immediately after 9/11, George W. Bush emerged as an illegitimate president in the estimation of his political opponents. Republicans mounted ferocious attacks on Barack Obama. The first phase of Donald Trump’s presidential campaign was to argue that Obama was not a citizen of the United States. In office, the clearest indication of what President Trump will do is whether or not he can reverse something that President Obama had done. If Trump can be the anti-Obama, he will be—especially where foreign policy is concerned. The Democratic candidates for president are currently positioning themselves as the anti-Trump on foreign policy, and so it goes.

Trump and the Cultural Wars

American culture of the past few decades has little in common with the culture of the 1940s and 1950s. Conservatives have moved away from Eisenhower’s pro-Europe posture, many of them embracing an ethnonationalist sensibility that is one part anti-EU and another part anti-immigrant, anti-internationalist. This coincides with similar movements among European populists, hearkening the death of the transatlantic West or the birth of an entirely new West, as espoused by the likes of Steve Bannon. Meanwhile, in the 1960s, multiple political movements affirmed a fact of American life that had been obvious but had not always been accepted: that as much as the United States had a European patrimony, an inheritance of religion and political philosophy and art from Europe, the European strain was only one of several in American history. The European strain also coincided with the ideology of whiteness in American life, a legitimizing tool for governing elites over the generations.

Over time, American universities became vehicles of social change as they shifted away from espousing “Western civilization” and adopted curricula that tended to associate Europe with empire and with whiteness. Europe is no longer the cornerstone of American higher education, and the rise of the West that McNeill wrote about has yielded to Provincialization Europe, in the title of an important recent book on global history. These changes have been contested at every point, leading to the culture wars of the 1980s and 1990s, which mirror the erosion of bi-partisanship in American politics. (And no president has ever so visibly enjoyed the culture wars, and profited from them politically, as President Trump.) Still, the basic transition that began in the 1960s has been unstoppable. American multiculturalism is here to stay, but Europe does not fit comfortably into the American scene, as it once did, which is a problem for the transatlantic relationship.

Trump has proven a salient truth about the transatlantic West. It must not be taken for granted. It is not a self-perpetuating mechanism, an engine put together in 1945 that will keep on running indefinitely. A United States unsure of the interests that bind it to Europe, mired in partisan division, and moving culturally away from Europe could well abandon the West in coming years. Trump’s talent as a politician, often buried behind his personal bluster and behind the incoherence of his administration’s foreign policy, is his knowledge of his electorate. It did not care when he proclaimed NATO obsolete. It was not horrified by Trump’s disdain for Chancellor Merkel. It agrees with the president that Europe needs to be forced into spending more on defense, while being coerced into trade deals the president says are more favorable to the American economy. It finds persuasive Trump’s contention that Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are members of a selfish global elite, that their belief in the “liberal international order” was a smokescreen for an assault on American nationhood, and that the foreign-policy tradition of democracy promotion, going back to Woodrow Wilson, is either irrelevant or it is nonsense. Much as Trump has struggled to change the course of American foreign policy, failing more often than succeeding at the task, he has tapped into feelings and grievances that he did not have to fabricate on the campaign trail in 2016. He activated divisions and disagreements that will endure and that will certainly imperil the future of the transatlantic relationship.

Seek Out US Conservatives

To address this problem, Europe can remind the United States of the interests held in common and that are prone to deepen over time. The crucial point here is not so much economic, though the regulation of a productive commercial and financial relationship between Europe and the United States is a shared interest. The basic strategic imperative concerns Russia and China. Both of these powers are benefitting from a divide-and-conquer approach. They can accomplish much more bilaterally than they can if they have to deal with a united transatlantic front.

Conversely, on trade, on the stability of Europe’s borders and on international order generally the United States and Europe can more than double their influence by working together. Whatever the short-term imperatives are for competition, for rivalry, and for the narcissism of small differences, Europe and the United States must recognize that they live in a world that is far more eager to transform the West than to be transformed by the West. The days of hubris, when the United States thought it could democratize the Middle East and Europe thought it could Europeanize Eastern Europe, Russia, and the Caucasus, are over. Internal reform and the prudent maintenance of the transatlantic relationship are big enough challenges. They also reflect hard-edged and long-term interests in both Europe and the United States.

Tactically, Europe should try to reach out to as many American conservatives as possible. Trump has cast the EU as a “liberal” entity. He has been able to do so in part because many European nations and the EU find it easier to work with Democrats. Leading Democrats tend to rhapsodize about the EU. Democrats have positions on gun control, abortion, climate change and international order that tend to accord more closely with majority opinion on these matters in Europe. But if Democrats come to own the transatlantic relationship, it could prove fatal to the relationship.

Europe as such is not unpopular among American conservatives. To the contrary, but the case for the transatlantic relationship has to be made to them. European heads of state and European diplomats should seek out conservative audiences to find points of transatlantic cooperation that appear bi-partisan to those Americans who are not Democrats.  The approach could be called “Operation Eisenhower” in memory of the Republican President who played such a prominent role in the Allied victory, who was a stalwart defender (and employee) of NATO and who saw no alternative to a robust transatlantic relationship. This is not a technique of managing relations with the Trump administration. It is an investment in the future.

Make Use of Cultural Diplomacy

Finally, Europe should make the United States an object of its cultural diplomacy, not as an ornament but as an aspect of its overall foreign policy. This might seem beside the point among allies, but it is essential at the present moment. Accentuating the historical ties between Europe and the United States is insufficient. A creative European cultural diplomacy would take into account the complicated multiculturalism of the United States, encouraging tolerance and openness not as the genetic possession of anyone but as a legacy of the transatlantic relationship at its best. It would also seek to persuade—as all cultural diplomacy does. Assuming that the hard US interests in the transatlantic relationship have been clearly articulated, Europe’s cultural diplomacy could be aimed at persuading Americans that isolationism and unilateralism are wrong turns and that cooperation and multilateralism, refined into a foreign policy that reflects democratic deliberation and the rule of law, constitutes the best way forward. Cultural diplomacy could be deployed to remind Americans that when the West crashed in the 1930s it was not just Europeans who suffered. It was Americans who found themselves in uniform as well. Likewise, when the West was reconstituted after the war, when the Marshall Plan was conceptualized and the NATO treaties were signed, it was not just good news for (Western) Europeans. It eventually made the United States safer and more prosperous. These examples are not merely academic history. They frame the decisions that will be made on both sides of the Atlantic, in and after 2020, determining whether the bottom of the West falls out for good or whether a renewal is still possible.

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Reducing net greenhouse gas emissions to zero is such a daunting task that one is disinclined to think about the side effects of success. But these have to be considered. Ditching fossil fuels will have a dramatic impact on world trade and geopolitics.

In order for the world to limit global warming to two degrees Celsius, global greenhouse gas emissions should reach net zero by around 2085, and emissions should already start declining this year, in 2020. (In the 2010s, they rose at a rate of 1.5 percent annually.)

In the process, oil and gas, the source of most emissions, will become less important as tools of foreign policy. In the past, both importers and exporters have used energy as a foreign policy lever, implementing embargoes or sanctions (OPEC against Western states in 1970s, many states against apartheid South Africa, the P5+1 against Iran), playing pipeline politics (Nord Stream 2), and offering benefits to friends (Russia’s discounted oil deliveries to Belarus).

The New Map of World Power

Alliances built on fossil fuels, e.g. that between the United States and Saudi Arabia, will weaken in a decarbonizing world, according to a major new report from the International Renewable Energy Agency (IRENA). In the eyes of the major powers, smaller petro-states like Azerbaijian will lose relevance. Oil and gas will cease to be at the center of quite so much conflict and disagreement in places like Libya and Iraq, to name just two currently in the headlines.

With the scrambling of alliances come new geographies of trade―electricity is a regionally traded commodity, whereas oil is shipped all around the world. Sources of renewable power are also less geographically concentrated than oil and gas fields, so energy production will become less concentrated in states blessed (or cursed) with hydrocarbon deposits, and strategic oil choke points like the Strait of Hormuz will become less crucial to world trade.

As a report from the Belfer Center at Harvard University points out, there is a risk of political instability for fossil fuel exporters that are unable to maintain government spending and standards of living. Look at Venezuela, where falling oil prices have contributed to the country’s recent economic and social collapse. Or Nigeria, where fossil fuel reserves make up 40 percent of the country’s total assets.

The flip side of this is that today’s energy importers will save money. The EU, for example, expects to significantly reduce the €266 billion it spends annually on importing fossil fuels.

To Zero, To Hero

The EU will likely be the first of the major powers to achieve carbon neutrality, making it an interesting test case. It hopes to decarbonize by 2050.

2050 is 30 years away, not a long time compared to previous energy transitions. These are, as the great energy historian Vaclav Smil has written, “gradual, prolonged affairs”; it tends to take 50 to 75 years for a new resource to capture a large share of the global energy market. Humans used traditional biofuels (mostly wood) and animate energy (horses, oxen, biceps and hamstrings) from the discovery of fire until about 1800, when coal power started to become significant and humans began to enjoy the modern industrial world.

It took coal until 1900 to become the dominant energy source, a position it retained until the 1960s, when oil overtook it. Since then, the major trend has been not the takeover of solar and wind power but rather the rise of natural gas, which is now about as important to world energy as oil and coal. In 2017, low-carbon sources, including all types of renewables and controversial nuclear power, provided only 28 percent of primary energy consumption in the EU. That leaves a lot of fossil fuels to transition away from.

Nevertheless, 30 years is long enough that EU fossil fuel demand will decline gradually. The International Energy Agency (IEA) projects that, if the world undertook a “major transformation” of the energy system to tackle climate change, European oil demand would decline by 61 percent from 2018 to 2040. Even though the IEA tends to underestimate the growth of renewable energy, it appears that Europeans will still be buying loads of oil in 20 years.

Meanwhile, European gas demand is expected to decline by 38 percent from 2018 to 2040, though analysts expect gas imports to actually increase in the short term as domestic production declines and coal power plants are shut down. A great deal of the previous progress towards decarbonization is thanks to the switch from coal to natural gas, which emits about half as much carbon dioxide per unit of released energy as does coal.

The (Slow) Death of the Salesmen

One country’s savings are another’s lost business. What will happen to the EU’s fossil-fuel salesmen?

Russia and Norway sell more hydrocarbons to EU customers than any other countries, and thus have the most to fear from EU decarbonization. It’s a real problem for both; no country could simply shrug off the loss of its biggest customer in its biggest industry. Most Russian gas and oil is sold to the EU, and fossil fuel sales provide about 40 percent of Russian federal budget revenues. Fossil fuels are also the backbone of the Norwegian economy.

Norway is “highly resilient” against decarbonization, according to the IRENA report. Being rich helps: Norway’s sovereign wealth fund has about $200,000 for every person in the country. But Norway is also shoring up its defenses. Bård Lahn, a researcher at the Norwegian climate think tank CICERO, says there is “an increasing awareness that Norway needs to prepare for a decarbonized Europe and reduce its exposure to oil and gas market fluctuations.” A government-appointed commission recently recommended stress-testing the economy against declining fossil fuel demand. But so far, “oil and gas policy focuses on maximizing production and exports. In particular, the Norwegian government and oil industry association has made considerable efforts to persuade Brussels about the advantages of natural gas as a ‘bridge fuel.’”

Russia is less resilient. Tatiana Mitrova, a senior research fellow at the Oxford Institute for Energy Studies, says the country is “not well prepared for decarbonization, especially EU decarbonization.” In fact, most stakeholders regard it as an “existential threat” to Russian hydrocarbon export revenues.

However, Russia is still less exposed than some other petrostates. Andreas Goldthau, a professor at the Willy Brandt School of Public Policy at the University of Erfurt and Associate Fellow at the German Council on Foreign Relations (DGAP), says that this is in part because Russia’s fossil fuels are comparatively cheap to exploit. “Russia has relatively low lifting costs for oil, so it is likely to stay competitive even in a market that is set to turn softer against the backdrop of decreasing demand for hydrocarbons.” Russia is also expanding petrochemical production and diversifying its gas exports, in particular by betting big on China. It recently began shipping gas to its mega-neighbor through the Power of Siberia pipeline, the largest gas project in Russian history.

Can I Interest You in Some Hydrogen?

Even if energy exporters can’t sell as much oil and natural gas to the EU in the future, they won’t just give up on the energy trade. At present, the EU imports 55 percent of its energy. In its 2018 long term climate strategy, the Commission projects that this “energy dependency” figure will fall to 20 percent by 2050. Those 20 percent will still represent a lucrative market.

What will future EU energy trade look like? “Member states decide on their own energy mix,” a Commission spokesperson said, while also pointing out that official EU documents give a pretty good idea of what the remaining imports might be. (The usual caveats about predicting anything 30 years from now apply.)

The 2018 EU strategy assumes some residual imports of fossil fuels in 2050. Much of these fuels will be for industrial use, like the natural gas used as a feedstock by the chemical industry. Some fossil fuels will be imported to power long-distance ships and planes, which are hard to decarbonize. The EU will try to offset these emissions with negative emissions elsewhere.

Some share of future energy imports will be low-carbon. A decarbonizing EU will continue to import biofuels, like wood, or diesel derived from plants, though these will be a small part of overall consumption. More significant is the possibility of importing electricity from countries than can produce cheap renewable power, like the sunny nations of North Africa. With EU support, member states are laying power lines across the Mediterranean to the Maghreb.

Hydrogen is the most promising low-carbon energy source for Norway and Russia to pivot to. According to Goldthau, even a decarbonizing EU will likely keep importing energy from Russia. At first, it would be “blue” hydrogen made from natural gas, where the carbon emissions are stored underground or reused. Eventually it should be “green” hydrogen, made by using renewable electricity to split water molecules into hydrogen and oxygen atoms.

Lahn says that some Norwegian industry actors are getting more interested in hydrogen exports, though it remains “an experimental idea.” One advantage here is that hydrogen could be delivered through existing natural gas infrastructure, and Norway and Russia would have a climate-friendly use case for their large natural gas reserves.

Full of Energy

Humans will still need enormous amounts of energy to get through the day in a decarbonized world. But they will no longer be able to take advantage of all the energy stored in plants and animals that died hundreds of millions of years ago and became oil, coal, or gas through exposure to heat and pressure. (In the end, almost all energy is solar energy.)

Decarbonization will reshape foreign affairs; and yet in some ways the new geopolitics of energy will resemble the old one. There will continue to be major trade in energy, whether hydrogen or electricity or biofuels. There could be new resource curses, not with fossil fuels but with rare earth metals essential for clean energy technologies. New inequities will arise as major powers hoover up clean energy patents. Countries will still have balance-of-payments problems with regard to energy imports.

Of course, this will only happen if humans are able to break the mold of previous energy transitions, not merely adding new fuel sources but breaking their addiction to the old ones, thus avoiding catastrophic climate change. These geopolitical developments would be the side effects of success.

The post Carbon Critical: International Relations, Decarbonized appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

Artwork © Dominik Herrmann

After almost a decade in office and 14 years at the helm of his party, the liberal-conservative People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD), Prime Minister Mark Rutte remains the dominant figure in Dutch politics. Each of his governments have had a completely different make-up. The first was a minority government together with the Christian Democrats (CDA), the second a grand coalition with the center-left Labor Party (PvdA), and the current is a four-way center-right coalition. In each case, however, Rutte managed to keep everyone together by networking incessantly, deploying his disarming smile and willingness to compromise. The question now is whether he will run again next year or whether he will, for instance, take on a high-level position in the EU instead.

A Bit Boring

Mark Rutte was born in The Hague in 1967, the youngest in a large family. As a child he spent a lot of time playing the piano and even dreamed of attending a conservatoire.  But by the age of 16 his interest had shifted to politics and he joined the VVD’s youth organization, the JOVD, although by his own account he wasn’t a convinced liberal yet (this came later). Studying history at Leiden University, he gradually worked his way up in the JOVD and spent three years as its national head, learning the art of managing many and varied stakeholders along the way.

After belatedly graduating—due to all his political activities, it took him eight years to complete his studies —Rutte went to work for Unilever, in the human resources department. In his early years in politics he would pride himself on having strong opinions about the best laundry detergent brands and would quip that he would go back to the peanut butter factory if his political career didn’t work out.

He is a life-long bachelor who describes himself as “a bit boring” and, surprisingly for someone who leads a party that stands up for the entrepreneurial class, has little interest in material possessions, often proclaiming that “possession is ballast.” His personal life was a talking point only during his first election campaign in 2006, when there was some media speculation about his lack of a partner. Since then, it has mostly vanished as a topic of discussion.

Political scandals never seem to do him much harm, even the significant number revolving around cabinet members from his own party. His jovial mannerisms—one of his catch phrases is pointing out how much of a cool country the Netherlands is—his willingness to deflect incoming attacks by rapidly apologizing for any wrongdoing, and his debating skills have meant that any difficulties usually slide off him. He has earned the nickname “Teflon Mark.”

Fragmentation Manager

The political system in the Netherlands fragmented earlier than in many other countries: the Dutch have experienced the decline of traditionally dominant mainstream parties, the rise of right-wing populism, and an increasingly volatile electorate since the 1990s. As a result, large coalitions, often consisting of ideologically disparate parties, are common. Rutte has thrived in this political environment.

Straight after he was plucked away from his desk at Unilever and installed as state secretary for social affairs and employment, he demonstrated his political skills by using his charm and willingness to engage directly with political opponents in order to push through controversial social welfare reforms. Putting his apparently infinite energy to good use in a strategy that would become his hallmark, he spoke to everyone involved and used his jovial style and approachability to get people on board through constant engagement with all stakeholders.

Even political opponents rarely leave a room after a meeting with Rutte without the feeling that they have built a special relationship with him. He subsequently cultivates these relationships by staying in touch with a large number of people he has met over the years, spending more time on his phone than the average teenager.

Following a stint as state secretary for education (a pet portfolio), he ran for the party leadership in 2006 against the popular minister for integration and asylum affairs, Rita Verdonk. The support he had built up within the party through the years of networking helped him win the nomination.

However, it took him until the election of 2010 to  craft a political profile that resonated with Dutch voters. Having initially charted a more progressive course, including a political strategy dubbed “GreenRight,” referencing the name of the Dutch green party GreenLeft, he moved his party to the right. Setting personal ideological considerations aside, he made the VVD the largest political force in the Netherlands, winning just over 20 percent of the popular vote. This pragmatism would become the hallmark of his political career.

The Wilders Challenge

He managed to become the first liberal prime minister of the Netherlands in almost a century by creating a minority government with the CDA, supported in parliament by the far-right populist Party for Freedom (PVV), led by Geert Wilders. Cooperating with Wilders, who had broken away from the VVD in 2004, led to severe criticism, both domestically and internationally. With the PVV refusing to take on government responsibility, it also meant having to placate Wilders all the time. Eventually, the government fell when the PVV refused to accept a new budget, Rutte turned to the centrist opposition and successfully passed a spending plan including significant cuts and tax increases before the next election.

The subsequent election turned into a contest between Rutte and the leader of the center-left PvdA, Diederik Samson. Voters on the left flocked to Samson, hoping to keep Rutte out of office, while those on the right opted for Rutte over Samson. The end result was a coalition of the two main protagonists. As Rutte’s VVD was still the largest party with a (by Dutch standards) whopping 26 percent of the vote, he remained prime minister. Although his coalition had a solid majority in the lower chamber of parliament, its lack of a majority in the upper chamber meant passing legislation still required constant deal-making with the opposition. Rutte’s interpersonal skills and, possibly even more importantly, his ideological flexibility and willingness to compromise made it happen.

Managing a difficult coalition has become even more important during his current term. In the 2017 election campaign he fought off the challenge from Wilders, whom he described as representing the “wrong kind of populism.” He did so by moving further to the right on issues such as integration and immigration. After 225 days of government-building talks, he formed a four-party coalition, resting on a one-seat majority. In part thanks to the rise of a second right-wing populist challenger, the Forum for Democracy (FvD) led by Thierry Baudet, Rutte’s new coalition lost its majority in the upper chamber halfway through its term. This has forced him to again use all his process management skills to get anything done and keep his government together until the next election in 2021.

European Player

Rutte’s political style is one that could be taken as a model for many other European leaders faced with increasingly fragmented political systems. According to his biographer, Dutch columnist Sheila Sitalsing, he manages the decline of previously dominant mainstream parties of the center-left and right by taking the ideological contest out of politics. He combines a willingness to compromise with an ability to push through large chunks of his party’s program at the expense of coalition partners—something the PvdA can attest to after losing three-quarters of its seats in 2017 because it was seen as having enabled VVD policies. Rutte, meanwhile, retained his core support.

Within the EU, Rutte has played less of a connecting role. He has always been a soft supporter of European integration, preferring to focus on the economic benefits it brings, and he has often relied on his finance ministers to act as the bad guys in Brussels for him. More recently, he moved himself into the firing line by seeking to prevent any significant further integration and especially any fiscal transfers.

Following the Brexit vote, the Dutch realized that they were about to lose an important liberal and pro-free trade ally within the EU, one that the Dutch have often hidden behind. In response, they are now taking the lead at the helm of a group of fiscally conservative countries, the so-called New Hanseatic League. This group played a large role in torpedoing the introduction of a eurozone budget, which France had pushed for, after suggestions that Germany might back the idea. Recently, Rutte became the informal leader of the even more pithily named Frugal Four, a group of net contributors to the EU budget (the Netherlands, Austria, Sweden, and Denmark) that opposed higher spending.

His often controversial positions within the EU notwithstanding, there was much speculation last year that Rutte could be in line for an EU top job. As a liberal from one of the Benelux countries, who is held in high regard by many colleagues, including German Chancellor Angela Merkel, he appeared to be perfectly suited for Council president in particular. However, the fact that early on he put his weight behind compatriot Frans Timmermans for the commission presidency suggested Rutte did not actually want the job.

This would fit with Rutte’s earlier claims that he will leave politics behind after his stint in the “little job”—as he likes to refer to the Dutch premiership. However, it would not be the first time that he has changed his mind if he does eventually decide to leave The Hague behind for Brussels, possibly after the election in 2021.

The post Close-Up: Mark Rutte appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

In fact, “we all” witnessed something else entirely.

The Moscow-backed President Viktor Yanukovych fled the country after failing to subdue peaceful demonstrators by brute force. In response, the Kremlin sent its “polite people” to Crimea–well-equipped special forces without insignia who prepared the ground for Russia’s annexation of the strategically important peninsula. It also started waging a bloody war in eastern Ukraine, which so far has cost 13,000 mostly Ukrainian lives and displaced almost two million people.

Since this breaking of international norms, Vladimir Putin’s Russia seems to have gone from strength to strength: threatening Europe militarily, waging hybrid war against the West, intervening decisively in Syria and most recently in Libya. But is the country really going from strength to strength? And how should Europe, and Germany in particular, deal with it?

Putin’s Russia is an erstwhile superpower in decline, argues Anders Åslund—an authoritarian kleptocracy caught in an anti-reform trap. Recent constitutional changes notwithstanding, the question of whether Putinism can continue to function without Putin will need to be answered, one way or other, during the 2020s. And Maxim Trudolyubov reminds us that Russia will also be facing a societal change of great consequence: the bequeathing of assets to the next generation.

A Russia in decline is no less dangerous, on the contrary. As Heinrich Brauss, until 2018 NATO’s deputy secretary general, reminds us, it is turning into an ever more threatening neighbor, even though many in Germany prefer to close their eyes to this.

Meanwhile, it has been obvious for some time that Germany’s Russia policy makes no sense. It consists of little more than post-2014 sanctions and pressing on with Nord Stream 2 regardless–an absurd combination, as Liana Fix writes. Now that Emmanuel Macron has started to reach out to Putin, that’s even more true.

In the country of “Putin-Versteher”, it probably needs to be spelled out: a more active Russia policy requires the exact opposite of “understanding Putin,” of forgiving and forgetting, of appeasing and abetting corruption and criminality. Together with Paris and the rest of Europe, it’s time to find new, more convincing, more creative answers to the question of how to deal with the mighty and often destructive power next door.

The post Editorial: Strong on the Outside appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

Source: Eurostat

As European governments debate whether to allow Huawei to build critical 5G infrastructure, fears of economic retaliation by China play a major role in their thinking. While this is a legitimate concern, it would be a mistake if such concerns were allowed to dominate decision-making on strategic issues.

China certainly has serious economic weight, and its market is increasingly important to some European countries, but its real retaliatory power is often overstated. Governments across Europe tend to overlook an obvious fact: the EU single market—not China—is by far their most important source of economic growth.

Following the Chinese Call

As part of accelerated Chinese Outbound Foreign Direct Investment starting around 2012, Europe began to emerge as a preferred investment destination. A surge in Chinese companies’ activities to diversify their portfolio abroad resulted in mergers and acquisition of technology assets in the wealthiest European countries, and infrastructure investment in Europe’s periphery.

Against this backdrop, China sought to institutionalize political and economic cooperation with EU members, both bilaterally and through sub-regional formats. In the aftermath of the eurozone crisis and in the context of rising euroskeptic movements, Beijing benefited from the perception that China could offer attractive economic opportunities in the face of weak GDP growth and be an alternative to Brussels. The launch in 2013 of China’s global trade and infrastructure project, the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), further reinforced this perception. This has prompted European governments to sign Memoranda of Understanding (MoUs) with Beijing in hopes of securing economic benefits.  At the same time, they made sure to avoid criticism of China for fear of losing out on such opportunities.

Now, the threat of Chinese retaliation if governments decide to exclude or limit the role of telecom equipment provider Huawei in their countries’ 5G is making countries that are more dependent on the Chinese market think twice. However, a look at the numbers shows that European nations have less reason to be afraid than one might expect.

A Narrative of Dependency

In 2018, the EU single market accounted for on average 66.1 percent total exports of the individual EU 27 members plus the United Kingdom, against an average of 2.4 percent going to China.  For member states (and the UK) exports outside the single market, the share of exports to the US was on average 9.3 percentage points larger than those going to China.

These figures should help put the importance of the Chinese market for European economies in perspective and debunk the narrative that China is a source of unlimited economic opportunities. By the same token, these figures show the limits of China’s retaliatory power vis-à-vis European countries and indicate an untapped potential for the EU to leverage its economic power in relations with Beijing. In some states, the narrative about economic dependency on China is likely driven by an over-exposure of some large corporates, such as the German automotive industry, which is heavily invested in the country.

Despite this reality, the economic opportunity/retaliation argument is still disproportionately affecting how governments think about China, including on issues that have strategic and national security implications. It is possible that Chinese ambassadors’ activism across Europe is contributing to this perception.

Ambassadorial Pressure

In December 2019, Beijing’s envoy in Berlin, Ambassador Wu Ken, said that “If Germany were to make a decision that led to Huawei’s exclusion from the German market, there would be consequences. The Chinese government will not stand idly by.” Members of the Bundestag are convinced that in case of an unfavorable decision on Huawei, Beijing would go after the German car industry in China.

It turns out that Germany–which along with France has promoted itself as a leading force behind a coordinated European China policy—may be the EU member state most vulnerable to Beijing’s pressure in bilateral economic relations. In Europe, Germany has the highest share of exports to China (7.1 percent of its total exports, and 17.3 percent of its exports outside of the EU in 2018 according to Eurostat), far above the EU member state average of 2.4 percent and 7.3 percent respectively. German investment in China is also the highest in the EU. The Chinese market is particularly vital to German carmakers. Volkswagen, for example, generates almost half of its revenue in China. All together BMW, Daimler, and Volkswagen made over one-third of their car sales in the People’s Republic in 2018. In January 2019, the influential Federation of German Industries (BDI) urged companies to reduce their dependence on the Chinese market in response to China’s selective market opening and its ambitious industrial policy, which aims at reducing its reliance on foreign companies.

However, while China and the US are Germany’s single most important export markets outside the EU (7.1 percent and 8.7 percent respectively), its export markets are highly diversified, with the EU single market accounting for 59 percent of exports in 2018. So even though Germany is far more exposed than other member states to both the United States’ and China’s retaliatory power, its overall economic dependency on China is smaller than it is often made out to be, and not enough to justify an accommodating position on strategic issues.

Growing Disappointment With China

For years, European governments’ China policies were based on the premise that maintaining friendly political relations, even at the expense of standing up for their own values and interests, was key to unlocking special economic treatment in bilateral relations. Euroskeptic governments have been especially keen on showing Brussels that they had an economic alternative in China. This has made them  cautious not to upset Beijing—an approach that has occasionally extended to economic policy, for example when the previous Italian government worked to water down and eventually abstained from voting on the EU investment screening framework that its predecessors in Rome had asked the European Commission to draw up.

Different European countries are now starting to be more clear-eyed about the gap between China’s promises and the trade and investment reality. For example, the Chinese market still only plays a minor role in the economy of the twelve eastern EU states that are part of the 17+1 framework for cooperation with China. They all joined the China-led format and signed BRI MoUs to cash in on Beijing’s promises for trade and investment. But on average, exports to China still only account for 1.4 percent of their total exports, and Chinese investment has continued to flow to western Europe, neglecting their region. Some of the format’s members, like Poland and the Czech Republic, have voiced their disappointment. Importantly, an average of 72.4 percent of these 12 countries’ total exports go to the EU internal market.

Italy finds itself in a similar situation. The previous euroskeptic government signed a BRI MoU with the stated goal of exporting more to China. However, Italian exports to China declined in 2019, and the Chinese market still accounts for just 2.8 percent of its total exports, compared with 56.6 percent of exports that go to the EU single market. Rome is now also taking a more realistic approach to China and has joined Berlin, Paris, and Warsaw in the push to revise EU competition policy to stand up to China and the US.

Learning from China’s Neighbors

While countries like Germany, the UK, and Finland are slightly more reliant on the Chinese market, lessons from Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan show that economic dependency does not have to translate into an accommodating position toward China.

Beijing’s East Asian neighbors depend much more strongly than European countries on China (individually, their export share to China was between 20 and 30 percent in 2018). However, they are forced to adopt a comprehensive approach that goes far beyond economic interests and factors in national security considerations, not least because of their proximity to China, which they see as a strategic rival. When Beijing weaponized its economic power against them in the past—for example over the Senkaku/Diaoyu islands dispute with Japan or over South Korea’s deployment of the THAAD missile shield—they took measures to foster economic sovereignty in response, effectively limiting China’s economic leverage instead of giving in to Chinese pressure.

European governments should learn from East Asian nations. They should put strategic considerations first and not be overly worried about China’s economic retaliation. This requires growing more comfortable with compartmentalizing the relationship into areas of cooperation and competition. In addition, while the Chinese backlash temporarily hit individual companies (e.g. South Korea’s Lotte), economic ties between China and the three East Asian nations have remained stable overall.

Indeed, another lesson from China’s immediate neighbors is that while Beijing would quickly take advantage of a Europe that was being too accommodating, it is unlikely to substantially follow through on its threats. If Europe took more measures to promote economic sovereignty, China would most likely adapt its own approach in order to continue profiting from good relations with the EU and its members instead of jeopardizing this crucial relationship.

After all, European countries shouldn’t forget that close economic ties run both ways: the EU is China’s most important trading partner. China needs the EU bloc economically and geopolitically in its competition for global leadership with the United States. As Brussels works to rebalance its economic and political relationship with Beijing, leveraging the EU’s economic power should be part of the solution.

The post Exposure to China: A Reality Check appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

Artwork © Claude Cadi

What do German Financial Times columnist Wolfgang Münchau, French sociologist Didier Eribon, and Brexiteer-in-chief Nigel Farage have in common? They all think France is ripe for a takeover by the far-right Marine Le Pen.

The argument: Emmanuel Macron has failed on all counts. The French president has gotten nowhere with his plans for EU reform. His domestic policy agenda has divided the country. In a run-off with Le Pen, left-wingers will stay at home. We’ve seen it in the United States and Italy: centrist reformers pave the way for populists. the 2022 French presidential vote could be the shock election continental Europe has not yet had.

Whether this scenario plays out or not, how you think about tomorrow influences how you act today. Parisians joke about how a Le Pen win could provoke a welcome correction to the capital’s overheated housing market. Politicians in Berlin say they are hesitant on eurozone integration because faith in protest-ridden France is low. What happens to the EU if the notoriously “pas content” French vote Le Pen into the Élysée?

Election Time

France is entering its next election cycle. Municipal elections are coming up in March. Macron’s La République En Marche (LREM) is certain to perform badly. The upstart party isn’t even fielding candidates in many of France’s 34,839 municipalities. Moreover, in Paris, LREM is facing the difficult task of trying to replace the popular outgoing mayor Anne Hidalgo, a socialist rumored to be eyeing a bid the Élysée. To make things worse, the LREM mayoral contender Benjamin Griveaux stepped down just weeks before the elections because of a sex video scandal; his replacement, Minister of Health Agnès Buzyn, faces an uphill struggle, to say the least. In the spring of 2021, regional elections will follow. Here, LREM will try to coopt or defeat the remaining heavyweights from the center-right Les Républicains who could challenge Macron in 2022.

In the dynastic Rassemblement National (RN), the rebranded Front National, Le Pen has already announced she will run for the presidency for a third time. With her niece waiting in the wings, this might be her last shot. Le Pen has been crisscrossing la douce France, trying to soften her image. No more talk of exiting the euro. No mention of her confidante Axel Loustau, who practices the Nazi salute. Instead, Le Pen now wants to change the EU from within and has commemorated the liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp 75 years ago.

In this election context, the Élysée is shifting from policy to politics. Macron has delivered the key policies of his 2017 campaign program: reforms of the labor market, unemployment insurance, taxation, and now pensions. In France, change rarely comes without a street fight. But after three years of social conflict, the country that celebrates the revolutionary myth like no other is desperate for some peace.

And Macron himself needs things to calm down so that his reforms can unfold to their full potential. Over the next two years, Macron will try to sit tight at home, conduct foreign policy, and focus on his campaign.

Unholy Alliance

Macron is starting from a passable, though not great, position to try and become the first reelected president since the late Jacques Chirac. His approval ratings (34 percent) are much higher than François Hollande’s (17 percent), but a bit lower than Nicolas Sarkozy’s (37 percent) at similar points in their presidential terms.

Just like Sarkozy, Macron is passionately hated by many. For fervent left-wingers and the far-right, the former Rothschild banker who told an unemployed man that he could easily find a job by “crossing the street” is a neo-liberal capitalist. Both groups also agree that Macron is Angela Merkel’s lackey.

At the end of the TV debate ahead of the second round of the 2017 elections, Le Pen said: “France will be governed by a woman from Sunday: it is either me or Ms Merkel—that’s the reality.” In a speech in parliament after the 2017 elections, left-wing nationalist Jean-Luc Mélenchon exclaimed: “We haven’t voted for Merkel!”

“In politics, shared hatreds are almost always the basis of friendships,” Alexis de Tocqueville said. Indeed, Mélenchon finds increasingly kind words for Le Pen. The France Insoumise (FI) leader labels Merkel as “anti-humanist,” but congratulates Le Pen for “progressing toward humanism” and joining the pension reform protests.

In the first round of the 2017 presidential elections Le Pen got 21.3 percent of the vote, Mélenchon 19.6 percent, and Gaullist euroskeptic Nicolas Dupont-Aignan 4.7 percent. So are Münchau, Éribon and Farage right? Is that the basis on which the self-declared “common-sense politician” Le Pen will accede to the Élysée this time?

Macron‘s Track Record

This narrative has a major problem. In 2017, all the conditions were in place for a Le Pen win. The economy was growing at a snail’s pace, the 2015 terror attacks had traumatized the country, and the refugee crisis—coupled with Michel Houllebecq’s novel Soumission—had fueled an absurd narrative of a “Muslim takeover” across the country. But despite this, Le Pen got only 33.9 percent of the vote in the second round.

Absent a major crisis, Macron will be the first president since Chirac to stand for reelection with a positive economic track record. France’s investment-to-GDP ratio has surpassed Germany’s. Hiring a minimum-wage worker in France is now cheaper than in Germany. Unemployment has dropped from 9.3 percent to 7.9 percent since Macron took over and is continuing in this direction. Tax cuts are boosting spending power, and ultra-low interest rates allow the Élysée to continue running fiscal deficits. Macron learned from Obama and former Italian Prime Minister Matteo Renzi that sticking to fiscal responsibility in the face of populists is self-defeating.

While having a decent economy is not enough to counter the far-right—if it were, right-wing populists in Switzerland wouldn’t get 26 percent of the vote—it certainly helps. Meanwhile, on the issue of migration, Macron is difficult to attack as he follows a hardline policy himself.

Moreover, the RN has struggled to build momentum, despite the Yellow Vests protest movement. Last year’s European election was a disappointment. The party lost 1.5 percentage points compared to 2015 and more than halved its share among French voters under 35, despite having installed the charismatic 23-year-old Jordan Bardella as its lead candidate.

A Beneficial Narrative

Lastly, France’s political landscape is evolving. A standoff between Macron and Le Pen is not a foregone conclusion. At the European elections, the Greens (13.5 percent) clearly outperformed the far-left FI (6.3 percent). Mélenchon has been drifting toward irrelevance, in large part because of his flirtation with the far-right.

It is the Greens that have caught the tailwind of the Greta-wave and are in the running to win some important cities for the first time, such as northern Rouen and southern Montpellier. In 2022, the dominant force on the left is likely to be Green and pro-European. Not the nationalist Mélenchon. This is a problem for Macron who has delivered little on his “Make the Planet Great Again” pledge.

Talking up the likelihood of a Le Pen victory in 2022 is a beneficial narrative for many. For the radical left, it supports the argument that the EU needs to become more than a “neoliberal project.” For Germans, it provides a good excuse to hold back on EU integration. For Brexiteers, it vindicates their decision to leave. And for Macron, this discourse allows him to portray himself as the only alternative to Le Pen and to sideline the Greens.

But like the gloomy picture of a collapse of the EU—which Münchau and Farage are also equally apt to evoke—the specter of Le Pen in the Élysée is unlikely to materialize anytime soon.

The post Pariscope: The Useful Le Pen Threat appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

More than nine years after the Arab uprisings started, the Middle East is still in turmoil. Syria, Yemen, and Libya are locked in brutal civil wars. Sudan, Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, and Algeria have witnessed a renewed wave of demonstrations. Tensions between Iran and Saudi Arabia are coming to a head. In Egypt, in contrast, the military-backed regime of general-turned-president Abdelfattah al-Sisi has put an end to public unrest and improved the macroeconomic situation.

Against this backdrop, many European policymakers perceive Egypt as a “stability anchor” and as simply being “too big to fail.” Take Charles Michel, president of the European Council. During a meeting with al-Sisi in Cairo on January 12, 2020, he referred to the country as “a point of security and stability in a region in turmoil,” highlighting efforts to fight terrorism and halt irregular migration in particular. (He thus pointed to two main reasons why the EU courts the Egyptian regime and turns a blind eye on al-Sisi’s unprecedentedly repressive and authoritarian style of government.)

The Egyptian regime nourishes this perception of stability by portraying itself as the only force capable of safeguarding peace and national unity. In case of major disruptions, it warns, there would be uncontrollable damage, namely with regard to migration and terrorism.

Not Sustainable, Not Inclusive

However, stability in Egypt is more fragile than thought in Brussels, and the regime is not promoting sustainable development, either.

Those who praise Egypt’s economic recovery base their assessment on macro-economic data. Since the government initiated an economic reform program in the context of a $12 billion IMF loan in November 2016, GDP growth has increased, tourism revenues and foreign currency reserves have recovered, and the budget deficit has been reduced.

These are positive trends, but al-Sisi’s government was only able to achieve them by going into debt. It borrowed dozens of billions, not only from the IMF but from several international financial institutions as well as Western and Gulf Arab states. This has sent public debt skyrocketing to an unprecedented level, and servicing debts today accounts for more than 30 percent of government expenditures.

Moreover, the regime failed to tackle the structural issues at hand, such as corruption and nepotism, insufficient competition and transparency, the military’s involvement in the economy, the large size of the informal sector, or the reliance on fossil fuels. All this does not indicate a truly sustainable economic recovery.

Even more worrisome is that this macro-economic growth has not improved living conditions for most Egyptians. The state-orchestrated mega-projects like building a new capital city, for which the regime spends billions of public funds, primarily benefit the elite. At the same time, the government is dismantling the welfare state. Spending cuts have reduced the quality of public education and undermined the public health system. Energy subsidies were cut and new (non-progressive) taxes introduced, leading to severe price hikes and putting a heavy burden on lower segments of society in particular. In consequence, poverty is increasing, and the middle class is being hollowed out.

Young and Thirsty

The deterioration of public services constitutes a severe legitimacy crisis for the regime. Since the era of another military-officer-turned-president, Gamal Abdel Nasser, Egyptian society has operated under an implicit social contract: the regime promises to satisfy the citizens’ basic needs in exchange for obedience. As long as the elite’s self-enrichment and the provision of services could be reconciled, this arrangement endured. Now, however, the regime is gradually retreating from the bargain, due to misguided policies as well as continuous population growth.

Egypt’s population is increasing by some 2 percent annually. It just reached the 100-million-mark, and is predicted to reach 128 million by 2030. This not only makes maintaining the welfare state more and more costly but also puts immense pressure on the job market. Neither state employment—for decades the main mechanism to combat unemployment—nor the private sector can absorb the 800,000 new jobseekers per year.

Egypt’s society is very young. A third is younger than 14 years, and 26.7 percent are between 15 and 29 years old. For them, the lack of social mobility and inequality of opportunity are particularly frustrating.

Moreover, population growth is straining resources to their limits and creating environmental concerns. Egypt is close to meeting the UN definition of absolute water scarcity and highly depends on the River Nile, which is providing more than 90 percent of fresh water. Yet the Nile is increasingly polluted, and many fear that Egypt’s share of Nile water will decrease due to Ethiopia’s construction of a massive hydroelectric dam. Cultivable land is also getting rare, resulting in high population density and food shortages.

Angry Citizens

As a result, many Egyptians feel that the rich live in abundance while the rest is getting poorer and poorer. Small-scale but significant protests erupted in September 2019 exactly because of this perception. They were triggered by videos released by an exiled former sub-contractor of the military, who, quite tellingly, blamed al-Sisi for building palaces while letting the citizens go hungry. He clearly touched a nerve.

As the regime is no longer fulfilling its part of the bargain, it should, logically, grant the people more rights. Yet it is doing the exact opposite. Under al-Sisi, repression and authoritarianism have reached unprecedented levels. The regime is ruthlessly silencing all dissenting voices. More than 60,000 Egyptians have been detained for political reasons since the military toppled former president Mohamed Mursi in July 2013. The regime targets not only political opponents, but virtually every individual who does not share its ideals, ranging from academics and journalists to artists, atheists, and homosexuals.

One of them is 28-year old Patrick George Zaki, an Egyptian activist who is studying at Bologna University. He disappeared at Cairo Airport on February 7, when he arrived for a family visit. 20 hours later, he re-appeared in the public prosecution office and is now charged with “spreading false news” and “disturbing the public order.” Unlike most other cases, his detention caught public attention. Within a few days, almost 200,000 people, both from Egypt and abroad, signed an online petition for his release. The regime’s uncompromising approach may have ended public unrest for now, but it polarizes society and, as the case shows, angers citizens.

Al-Sisi’s Regime Is Not the Solution

Dazzled by the prospect of state collapse, a fear that is continually fueled by the Egyptian regime’s rhetoric, the EU trades away democratization for stability, which in itself is a questionable approach. Now, however, it becomes ever more evident that al-Sisi’s regime is not safeguarding stability but jeopardizing it.

Thus the EU must reconsider its short-sighted approach. Continued repression will only make Egypt more unstable.

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© REUTERS/Charles Platiau/Pool

When it comes to Europe’s Russia policy, most of the impetus seems to be coming from Paris these days. For six months now, French President Emmanuel Macron has been setting the agenda. In August he invited Vladimir Putin to a bilateral meeting at Fort Brégançon ahead of the G7 summit, followed by an exchange at ministerial level between Paris and Moscow. Meanwhile, the most recent meeting of the Normandy Format—which brings together France, Germany, Russia and Ukraine to discuss the ongoing conflict in eastern Ukraine—took place in Paris in December 2019. And November 2020 marks the 30th anniversary of the Charter of Paris for a New Europe—an occasion that Macron would like to use for talks about a new European security architecture. Paris, Paris, Paris: France is in the fast lane to Moscow.

This is a new and unfamiliar situation for Germany. Since the beginning of the Ukraine conflict six years ago, it was Berlin that defined Europe’s position towards Russia and ensured cohesion and a hard-won consensus in the EU. However, France is now attempting to redefine this consensus and by doing so is overtaking Germany, or so it seems. Is it time for Berlin to modify its policy towards Russia? Has Germany perhaps held on to its previous “post-2014” approach to Moscow for too long?

Traditionally, Germany has always been the driving force in Europe’s relations with Russia. The German-Russian special relationship flourished after reunification and the end of the Cold War. The early 2000s, after Putin’s election and when Gerhard Schröder was still chancellor, is regarded by some as the “golden age” in relations between Berlin and Moscow. However, this closeness has often given rise to mistrust, especially among Central and Eastern Europeans: during this period, Germany was happy to leave it up to the EU to criticize Russia.

In French politics, on the other hand, Russia only really played a role at times when France remembered at its own great power ambitions. This was the case during the 2008 war in Georgia, when then President Nicolas Sarkozy—on behalf of the Europeans, but on a French mission—negotiated the ceasefire between Tbilisi and Moscow. In the Ukraine conflict, France left the leadership to Germany: President François Hollande was neither striving for proximity to Russia nor looking to project French power. Macron is now returning to the same pattern as Sarkozy. And in doing so, he is following the assertion of Charles de Gaulle: “France cannot be France without grandeur.” This includes a positive relationship with the other great power on the continent: Russia.

A German Lack of Direction

Up until the Ukraine conflict, German policy towards Russia was guided by three principles: reconciliation, integration, and rapprochement. Basically, it was a variation on the Ostpolitik theme: from “change through trade” to “rapprochement through interdependence” and “partnership for modernization.” The longer Berlin adhered to this approach, the louder the accusations of German naivety towards Russia became. The annexation of Crimea and the covert war in eastern Ukraine marked a turning point, leading to a short and medium-term reorientation: Russia policy now consisted primarily of “holding the line” and defending common European positions: extending sanctions, implementing the Minsk agreements, and preventing a sell-out of Ukraine—especially in the form of a “grand bargain” between Trump and Putin.

There was a path dependency to Germany’s Russia policy before 2014 remained. Which is why, despite all the political and economic doubts, Berlin stuck with the construction of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline. From the perspective of its supporters, it was important not to sacrifice the last pillar of the German-Russian special relationship: after all, the gas business with the Soviet Union had functioned reliably even at the height of the Cold War. That is why it is still considered a stabilizing factor in East-West relations today. For critics, Nord Stream 2 is the pivotal issue that could demonstrate a serious change in German policy towards Russia. There is no doubt that Berlin has massively underestimated the political consequences of continuing with the construction: Merkel’s argument that a Russian gas molecule remains a Russian gas molecule, regardless of whether it arrives via Ukraine or the Baltic Sea, has not convinced the US Senate. The pipeline will now probably have to be completed by Russia on its own.

German policy towards Russia thus currently consists of little more than sanctions on the one hand and a commitment to Nord Stream 2 on the other, coupled with an effort to maintain political dialogue, which often leads to frustration—whether in the Petersburg Dialogue or the High Working Group on Security Policy at the level of senior ministry officials. Moreover, the contrasting approaches from the period before and after 2014 make this policy very difficult for European neighbors to understand. In short: Berlin is treading water in its Russia policy. What is missing is a long-term strategy.

An Emotional Relationship

Russia is only 13th (based on total revenues in 2018) on the list of Germany’s most important trading partners, and under the current conditions, there is little potential for growth. It is therefore unclear on what basis German-Russian relations will develop over the next ten to 15 years. At the same time, a kind of “Russia fatigue” has started to take hold in Berlin. For example, the German EU Council Presidency, which starts in July, is setting very different priorities with an EU-China Summit and an EU-Africa Summit. Even a summit on the Eastern Partnership did not make it onto the German agenda, but will take place in Brussels in June instead.

It seems that Germany’s hopes for a positive change in relations with Russia have been dashed. It is the end of a strategic partnership; at the same time, German policymakers are reluctant to see Russia as a strategic adversary, as some other European member states are advocating. Such an approach would be difficult to communicate to the German public. For them, the relationship with Russia is an emotional one. According to a survey conducted by Körber-Stiftung, Germans are consistently in favor of more cooperation with Russia. Moreover, the concept of “decoupling” or “disentanglement” is not popular in German foreign policy, which is based on the principles of multilateral cooperation and collaboration. And Russia is now indispensable in many international policy fields.

Meanwhile, Macron is hoping for cooperation: he wants to form a common front with Russia in order to survive in a new world order marked by US-China rivalry. According to Macron, Europe will not be able to assert itself as a great power if it cannot get along with its biggest neighbor on the continent. The German approach is much more pragmatic: dialogue with Russia—especially in international crises such as Libya, Syria or Iran—is still urgently needed. A geopolitical “alignment” with Russia à la Macron seems, however, absurd. Russia and China each remain challenges in their own right.

Germany, unlike France, cannot take a great power approach to Russia. At the same time, however, Berlin should not leave Russia policy entirely to Macron, but should identify areas in which it can actively advance the Russia policy agenda together with France.

The five Russia principles that the former EU High Representative Federica Mogherini set out in March 2016—the implementation of the Minsk agreements, the strengthening of relations with Russia’s neighbors, resilience, selective cooperation, and civil society cooperation with Russia—are still valid, but they need to be reviewed. An exchange with Russia on European security would be in France’s interest— in the full knowledge that when it comes to European security, Russia is part of the problem, for example because of its violation of the INF Treaty, and only to a limited extent part of the solution.

Putin’s Russia Is Here to Stay

Macron is right to have placed the issue of arms control and strategic stability high on the Franco-Russian “agenda of trust and security” led by diplomat Pierre Vimont. And he is right to argue that European security cannot be decided between the US and Russia and over the heads of Europeans, as happened with the end of the INF Treaty. However, a sense of proportion is required: the Russian offer of a moratorium on the stationing of intermediate-range missiles, which Macron would like to talk about, is a rather unhelpful suggestion if NATO partners believe that such missiles have already been stationed by Russia. Overall, however, Germany, working together with France, can make a useful contribution to this issue.

Macron has also already announced that he will attend the celebrations of the 75th anniversary of the end of the Second World War in Moscow in May 2020. Such symbolic gestures form an important part of France’s policy towards Russia. Should Chancellor Angela Merkel decide to follow Macron’s example, she will have to walk a fine line between remembrance on the one hand and rejection of Russian historical revisionism on the other. The politicization of history for the purpose of constructing a positive Russian great power idea and rehabilitating Stalin’s leadership reached a new high point in a speech President Putin gave late last year. History policy is thus also a field in which Germany—ideally together with France—should take a clear stance.

Europe’s Russia policy can only be shaped jointly and not by France alone. Germany should help define the framework conditions of the new French initiative on Russia: inclusivity before ambition, unity before great power. Without the support of other Europeans, Macron’s Russia policy will have little chance of success—and the skepticism in Central and Eastern Europe is already significant. Macron’s visit to Warsaw was a first step towards confidence-building, and others must follow. It is only by working together that the EU can exert a constructive influence on Russia and, if necessary, counteract destructive policies.

Realistically, however, one must accept the fact that there is little prospect of any change within Russia. The constitutional amendments now being pushed through in Moscow point to a continuity of the form of rule and of the ruling elites after 2024, the end of Putin’s current term of office. Whether the Russian president chooses the “Kazakh succession model,” whereby he steers the fortunes of the country as the éminence grise in the background, or whether he finds an alternative model—Putin will in all probability not leave the political stage. This makes it all the more important for the EU to review its principles for cooperation with Russia and ensure they are given a long-term orientation. Neither France nor Germany can achieve this alone.

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© REUTERS/Ilya Naymushin

Russia’s aggression against Ukraine in early 2014, the annexation of Crimea and the war in the Donbass, was a double shock for the West. Moscow attacked a neighbor, breaking numerous international agreements. Above all, it contravened a principle that is of fundamental importance for security and stability in the Euro-Atlantic area: the inviolability of national borders. Russia has demonstrated that it is prepared to use military force if it considers this necessary to assert its geopolitical interests and the associated risk to be manageable. This breach of taboo has fundamentally changed the security of Europe. Russia’s western neighbors feel insecure, and rather than seeking cooperation with Russia they are looking for protection from it.

Intimidate the Opponent

The way Russia operated was the second shock. This was an almost perfect application of the strategy that in the West is often called hybrid warfare, a broad, coordinated campaign of non-military means, covert military measures, and subversive actions: large-scale propaganda and disinformation; mobilizing and arming rebel groups and then controlling them centrally from Moscow; cyberattacks against civil and military infrastructure; the use of masked special forces to occupy key facilities; deploying troops along the Ukrainian border to establish a threatening posture; demonstrative exercises of Russia’s nuclear forces; and tough, intimidating public rhetoric.

Meanwhile, additional elements of the hybrid spectrum have come to the fore: interference in democratic elections; attempted blackmail using oil and gas supplies; deliberate violations of the airspace of NATO states; military exercises near NATO borders; and even the voicing of nuclear threats. The full range of options are used flexibly and tailored to an evolving situation and opportunity―in peacetime, in a crisis, and in war. This “strategy of active defense” (General Gerasimov, Russia’s Chief of Defense) is designed to blur the boundaries between peace and conflict, to complicate the attribution of an aggression, to remain below the threshold of a direct military confrontation with NATO, and thus avoid triggering military resistance—and yet to achieve an effect similar to military action: surprise, insecurity, intimidation, and paralysis of the opponent.

Recently, Russia has added another element: in breach of the 1987 Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, it has deployed new ground-based, intermediate-range nuclear-capable missiles. For the first time in almost 30 years, large parts of Europe face a potential nuclear threat from Russia’s soil. As a core element of its strategy, Russia has systematically modernized its armed forces and steadily increased its defense budget in real terms until 2014. According to the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies, in 2019, the defense budget amounted to $62.4 billion, which corresponds to a purchasing power in Russia of $162 billion. Around 40 percent is invested in modern equipment. Army units of around 60,000 troops at high-readiness can be quickly deployed anywhere. Every two years, in its large-scale exercise ZAPAD, Russia rehearses the way it would wage war against the West.

Although Russia might for the time being not be able to withstand a long war against NATO, it is in the process of achieving military superiority with conventional forces in the Baltic region. This gives Russia the option to create a fait accompli with a rapid regional attack, supplemented by cyberattacks and disinformation campaigns—and backed up by the threat of deep conventional or nuclear strikes against European capitals and critical civilian and military infrastructure essential for deployment of forces and defense. Such a situation could paralyze the Europeans’ determination to live up to their collective defense commitments, convince the Americans to stay away, and then force NATO to stand down for fear of nuclear escalation. The new situation has caused great unease in NATO.

And finally, Moscow’s entry into the war in Syria has further expanded its anti-Western sphere of action. It has shown that it is capable of projecting military power even over strategic distances. It has filled a gap left by the US and has established itself permanently as a central actor in the Middle East—as a protective power of autocratic rulers, not as a peacemaker.

A Deep-Rooted Fear of Invasion

In the West, people wonder at the motives of the Russian leadership. All the more as Russian strategists, too, are aware that there is no military threat to Russia emanating from Europe. NATO and EU enlargement have stabilized and pacified Eastern Europe. NATO’s voluntary commitment made in the NATO-Russia Founding Act of 1997 is still valid: NATO has pledged not to deploy nuclear weapons or to permanently station additional substantial combat forces in its eastern member states.

According to most experts, the Russian leadership’s strategic thinking and actions are based on a combination of offensive and defensive elements rooted in Russia’s history and geography. The leadership defines itself by its political and cultural demarcation and opposition to the West. One can identify four fundamental beliefs that overlap and reinforce each other:

First, the existence of the ruling system must be secured by all means, ostensibly out of concern for Russia’s stability and security. The Russian leadership believes that democracy and economic prosperity in Ukraine, where millions of Russians live, would be an existential threat to President Putin’s autocratic rule. The so-called “color revolutions” there and in Georgia crossed “red lines”; in the end, they had to be stopped by force.

Second, because of its imperial history, size and status as a nuclear power, Russia believes it has a natural right to be respected as a privileged great power and to act accordingly, on an equal footing with its rival, the United States. “Equal security” only exists between great powers. Institutional integration of democratic nations ensuring equal security for all of them, whether great and small, as provided by NATO and the EU, is foreign to the mindset of the Russian leadership.

Third, only a strong state with a central power, the “vertical of power” (Vladimir Putin), can hold together and secure such a huge country with more than 130 ethnic groups. Law and order serve to secure power.

Fourth, Russia’s vast expanse, with a land border of more than 20,000 kilometers that is almost impossible to secure, has led to a deep-rooted fear of invasion and encirclement which has fueled an almost insatiable need for absolute security. Dangers must be averted or at least kept under control far outside the Russian heartland.

No Protective Belt

These factors have always led Russia to surround itself with a multi-level cordon sanitaire. From a geostrategic point of view, this purpose was fulfilled by the Soviet republics and the Warsaw Pact states, supplemented by “non-aligned” states in Europe. The perceived loss of these buffer states after the disintegration of the Warsaw Pact and the Soviet Union was, in Moscow’s view, further exacerbated by the accession of Eastern European countries to NATO. The possibility of maintaining Eastern Europe as a zone of influence disappeared. Moscow’s insistence on “privileged interests” in its neighborhood, the “near abroad,” went unheard. In accordance with the principle of free choice of alliances, NATO’s door remains open for other states. Thus, Russia’s expectation that the US would guarantee it geostrategic spheres of influence and take into account its special interests there, for example in the Western Balkans (Kosovo 1999) and the Middle East (Iraq 2003) failed.

Since then, Moscow has sought to achieve the effect of a protective belt by other means. What stands in the way of the expansion of Russian control in Europe are the EU and NATO. Their cohesion must be undermined, their decision-making capacity paralyzed, and their ability to act blocked. Then Russian control over Europe would unfold almost on its own. This is the aim of Russia’s policy of permanent confrontation with the West. Its instrument is Gerasimov’s “hybrid” strategy, which seeks to destabilize Western states and institutions  from within and to intimidate them from the outside.

In sum, it is safe to conclude that Russia’s security policy action also has a defensive origin, which is understandable for historical and geographical reasons. But it manifests itself in an aggressive and unpredictable manner. The transatlantic community cannot, however, trade away its values and principles, or the freedom and security of its members, in order to accommodate the geopolitical interests of an autocratic Russia.

NATO’s Deterrence

Since 2014, after more than 20 years of focusing on crisis management beyond the alliance’s borders, NATO has therefore revitalized its primary task of deterrence and collective defense. In the last six years, the alliance has implemented an array of measures to significantly improve its responsiveness and enhance the operational readiness of its armed forces. It has also strengthened its nuclear deterrence.

In developing and implementing its strategy, however, NATO is taking into account the perceptions of the Russian leadership. It has enhanced its capabilities, but kept them defensive. Its actions are balanced and proportionate, not excessive. They do not pose a threat to Russia, but they do send the message that coercion is ineffective, that an attack would not be successful, that the disadvantages would outweigh the desired gains, and that, in extreme cases, an attack could result in unacceptable damage inflicted on Russia itself.

So, for instance, instead of permanently stationing larger combat formations along NATO’s eastern border, NATO relies on rapidly reinforcing alliance members should they be threatened.

What’s more, the presence of multinational NATO forces in the Baltic States and Poland is limited to one multinational battlegroup each. However, they are immediately operational. Even in the event of a limited incursion, Moscow would immediately find itself in a military conflict with the whole of NATO, including the three nuclear powers, the United States, France and the United Kingdom—and would therefore be faced with the risk of nuclear escalation. This is the essence of deterrence.

Also, the alliance will not respond to the new Russian intermediate-range missiles by deploying  new nuclear weapons in Europe. Instead, it is focusing on defensive conventional means such as air and missile defense, which are designed to counter the threat of the Russian missiles.

And NATO maintains a regular dialogue with Russia in the NATO-Russia Council. The two military supreme commanders also exchange views. The aim is to avoid misunderstandings, minimize risks, and maintain a minimum of predictability. The alliance is also committed to reinvigorating arms control in Europe. However, there is currently no incentive for the Kremlin to enter into serious negotiations. At present, it holds all the trump cards.

The China Factor

For some time now, there has been growing evidence of increased political, economic, and military cooperation between China and Russia—a “strategic partnership.” Cooperation between the two autocratic superpowers presents the Western community with a double strategic challenge. The US regards China as its main competitor and is shifting its strategic focus to Asia. This could encourage Moscow to take a riskier approach in the West, especially if there was to be a military conflict between the US and China.

As a consequence, the Europeans must do much more for Europe’s security, both within NATO and the EU. Allies should also respond to French President Macron’s call for jointly developing a strategy for Europe’s future relationship with Russia, without legitimizing Russian revisionism and breaches of international law. Europe and Russia share a common geopolitical space. And, as Napoleon once supposedly declared, geography is destiny.

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