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On June 15 of this year, the armies of India and China clashed in the Galwan valley region of the Himalayas, resulting in the death of 20 Indian soldiers. While India and China share a long and contentious border, this clash was of vital importance for a number of reasons.

First, this was the first time in decades that the India-China border has seen this level of violence, as well as an increase in the buildup of Chinese troop numbers at multiple points along the border. Second, the clash shattered trust between India and China built carefully over years through agreements dating back to 1993, confining “the entire border architecture to the heap of history.” Third, while India continues to be a secondary concern in China, public opinion in India has decisively shifted to viewing China as a major security threat. Many in New Delhi believe this crisis reflects an inflection point that will fundamentally change the trajectory of India-China relations.

A Pattern of Border Tensions

India and China share an extremely long border running more than 3,000 kilometers, which is divided into sectors—western, middle, and eastern. After the last major boundary war between India and China in 1962 this border wasn’t clearly defined but a Line of Actual Control (LAC) was established. There are several disagreements and the LAC is vague, but both India and China agreed to not alter or re-define it unilaterally.

It was in the western sector in the remote mountainous region of Ladakh that Chinese and Indian soldiers clashed in the Galwan river valley on June 15^th. This violent attack was unprecedented, even on this contested border, representing the first violent deaths on the border since 1975 and the most fatalities in the region since 1967.

This begs the question why now and why this area? This region is strategically important to both countries. As Dhruva Jaishankar of the Observer Research Foundation (ORF) notes, in the 1950s China constructed a vital highway through the region claimed by India to connect to the critical regions of Xinjiang and Tibet. For India this region is important for supplying Indian forces along the disputed border with Pakistan, thus making the area critical for Indian security and “the geopolitical balance of power across a large part of Asia.”

Over time both sides have been building critical infrastructure including roads and airfields in the region, which have led to an increasing number of incidences—at the Depsang plains in 2013, then again in 2014 when Chinese troops crossed the border at Chumar coinciding with President Xi Jinping’s visit to India, and finally in 2017 at Doklam where Chinese troops entered a region they had “only patrolled sporadically before.” Galwan differs from these incidents not only because of the scale of the violence, but because this time Chinese troops “came in larger numbers, amassed troops and artillery ranged all along the boundary in Ladakh.” While both sides have blamed each other for sparking the incident most analysts conclude that China unilaterally altered the status-quo on the border by stationing a large number of its troops in the region.

The implications of this incident are bound to be significant. First, whatever the motives, it is evident that China is making more aggressive territorial claims in the region. Second, trust between India and China is at an all-time low. Since 1993, India and China had negotiated a series of agreements and operational procedures to prevent such skirmishes, known as the Border Peace and Tranquility Agreement but that has now essentially been voided. Most observers in India believe this was a pre-meditated and well-thought-out action on China’s part, making it very difficult to rebuild trust between the two countries and definitively turning the tide of public opinion against China.

An Inflection Point

While in the short-term, India’s priority will be the restoration of the status quo at the border, in the long term a rethink of India’s China policy seems imminent. Former National Security Advisor Shivshankar Menon argues that “the reset of India-China relations is now inevitable and necessary,” while C. Raja Mohan, director of the Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore, writes that any illusions Indian policy makers might have had about Asian and anti-Western solidarity with China have now been crushed.

This shift has certainly been accelerated by the border crisis, but it has been a long time in the making. As India and China grow in economic size and geopolitical ambition, a clash in policy between the two was in some ways inevitable. For example, Menon notes that freedom of navigation in the South China Sea has become an important issue for India just as China started doubling down on its claims in the region. Tanvi Madan, senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, points to other long standing problems in India-China relations—the widening trade deficit, limited market access for India, the growing proximity between China and Pakistan, China’s increasing activities in India’s neighborhood, and Beijing working against India at international forums such as the Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG) and United Nations Security Council (UNSC).

While a reset is certainly being called for, realistically in the short-term India’s relationship with China will take three parallel tracks—cautious engagement, internal strengthening, and external balancing. India’s engagement with China will continue but with some clear differences. Military balance on the border will be a crucial factor in determining how India-China relations evolve. But as both countries continue to build border infrastructure and roads, such clashes are bound to increase. In economic terms, there are growing calls for India to “decouple” from China. This would be difficult to implement since China is currently India’s largest trading partner, and second only to the US once services are added. Chinese economic investments in crucial sectors like start-ups and fintech in India are estimated to be around $26 billion.

While decoupling is not an option, India will limit Chinese investment in critical infrastructure particularly 5G, telecom, power grids etc. Huawei being included in India’s 5G infrastructure is now certainly out of the question. India recently also banned 59 Chinese apps stating security concerns. The more difficult task is for India to build its domestic capacities and resilience, which would need sweeping policy reform, something that is often difficult to implement in an electoral democracy. For example, to strengthen its economy India needs to be better aligned with the global economy. However, protectionist tendencies run deep, and the Modi government has not delivered on promises of economic reform despite having a clear majority in the Parliament. Similarly, India’s defense sector is in desperate need of reform, but progress has been slow so far.

Diversifying Partnerships

As India aims to bridge its massive economic and military asymmetries with China, it will continue to follow a policy of external balancing by building “issue-based coalitions” with a number of partners. Stronger US-India ties are a prime example. In this crisis the US provided India with “rhetorical support, diplomatic cooperation, the use of military equipment acquired from the US and, reportedly, intelligence sharing.” While India is wary of becoming a pawn in US-China competition, aiming to forge closer ties with the US is part of a broader policy of diversifying its partnerships. It is important to note that over the last few years India’s relationships with Japan and Australia have strengthened tremendously—two partners who have also followed a policy of cautious engagement with China. As part of its broader Indo-Pacific policy, India has also increased security and economic engagement with Vietnam, Singapore, Indonesia and other ASEAN countries. In this new constellation of partnerships while India-Russia ties might seem to have taken a backseat, they are still important as most of India’s major weapons platforms are Russian, and that is unlikely to change in the short term. As part of this logic, India’s approach towards Europe has also shifted, though India-France ties have been the biggest beneficiaries. It is important to note that the China question also figured prominently in the recent EU-India summit which took place in July 2020 and instituted dialogues on 5G, connectivity, maritime security, and on deepening the Europe-India trade relationship.

Lessons for Europe and Germany

The Galwan valley border crisis didn’t make headlines in Europe, partly because of the confusing topography and history of the LAC but also because the conflict is essentially seen as far away. However, this isn’t one isolated incident. Over the last few months, coinciding with the coronavirus crisis, China has engaged in military intimidation towards several countries in the South China Sea, Taiwan, and Japan. It introduced the national security legislation in Hong Kong. It has issued threats of economic retaliation in response to domestic debates in Australia and New Zealand. These moves are important to note as they give an indication of what kind of international actor a rising China wishes to be.

Europe is in the middle of a debate on its new China strategy. Under the German Presidency of the EU Council, Germany’s Foreign Minister Heiko Maas has called for a unified European approach to China. A new approach and strategic assessment of China will not be complete and effective if it doesn’t take into account how China behaves outside of European borders and with Europe’s partners. Especially because, while Europe doesn’t face a territorial threat from China, on a number of questions of economic security and political interference the dilemmas faced by Europe are the same as many countries in the Indo-Pacific. India, Japan, and Australia are all reconsidering their dependence on China in strategic sectors, in many ways mirroring the debate in Europe.

Second, while the conflict might seem far away, Europe has a stake in the security of the Indo-Pacific. The EU is the largest trade and investment partner of many countries in the region including India. The dynamic economies of the Indo-Pacific will continue to be extremely important for export-focused countries like Germany. In the wake of coronavirus crisis as Europe looks to diversify supply chains, this region will be central. Hence keeping an eye on the security dynamics in the region, which could quickly disrupt supply chains and have an impact on European economies and security, is crucial. And finally, as Europe is diversifying its partnerships beyond China, and strengthening relations with India, Japan etc. it cannot forever stay on the sidelines of these conflicts and developments, refusing to take positions. Political agnosticism has its costs too.

In the past, border crisis between India and China have had two kinds of outcomes. They have either derailed the relationship significantly, as seen in the aftermath of the 1962 war. Or they have served as an opportunity to reset and revitalize the relationship. The latter looks increasingly unlikely especially since altering and questioning territorial status-quo seems locked into Chinese foreign policy choices—whether in the South China Sea or the Himalayas.

Given the geostrategic importance of this region, border tensions are not going to go away. Recent reports show the conflict is still very much active and de-escalation hasn’t taken place. This crisis also comes at a time when India is already struggling to grapple with another external shock—that of the coronavirus pandemic. In a speech last year, India’s External Affairs Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar noted that these disruptions in the past have led to a rethink and start of new phases in Indian foreign policy and that India has advanced its interests most “when it made hard-headed assessments of contemporary geopolitics.”

By all current assessments, unless Chinese behavior changes or there is a framework for de-escalation agreed upon, the path of engagement seems more constrained and India will focus on making issue-based coalitions and diversifying its partnerships to strengthen its internal and external position vis-à-vis China. These tensions will remain and external players like Europe will no longer be able to ignore these in their foreign policy calculus.

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Can a leader be incompetent and lacking in ideas—while at the same time be convinced that he is a revolutionary? In the case of Boris Johnson, the answer seemingly is “yes.”

Britain’s prime minister, courtesy of Eton College and Oxford University, makes for an unlikely agitator against the Establishment. But this master of reinvention and marketing is determined to go down in history as one of the greats who will change his country – and the world. Like his lodestar, Winston Churchill, Johnson thinks he is battling to save his nation from the enemy.

It is, of course, all nonsense, a figment of his ever-fertile brain. But it matters because he believes it, and a worrying proportion of voters believe him too.

What therefore is the grand plan? Johnson doesn’t do detail—his chaotic handling of the coronavirus pandemic attests to that. But he does have a sharp eye for the popular (and populist) and has spent a career constructing a persona around that. He identified from early on, from the mid-late 1980s, the benefits he would accrue from euroskepticism. He then pursued it relentlessly. Many interlocutors attest to the fact that he didn’t actually believe it. But that wasn’t the point.

His entire identity has been artfully constructed—his shambolic appearance, his unfortunate turns of phrase, his ostentatious unpunctuality. It has allowed him to stand out from the crowd, to build a base. Like US President Donald Trump, he turned conventional wisdom on its head. Personality traits that mainstream members of public life regard as weaknesses, he saw as a strength. Like Trump, he has not trimmed these back since taking office, defying those who predicted that he would.

Hitting Easily Identifiable Targets

Like Trump, Johnson has not learnt gravitas in the face of the biggest global crisis for 75 years. He stumbles around, suggesting laws, changing his mind, blithely indifferent to the effect the shambolic leadership style is having on ordinary lives. What is remarkable, however, is how his opinion poll ratings have dropped only slightly—and in line with a normal first year in office for a leader.

He must therefore be doing something right. I scratch my head to see what exactly it is. But I will attempt to deconstruct the underpinnings of an agenda for the Johnson premiership.

First of all, he is good at hitting easily identifiable targets. He said he would “get Brexit done,” come what may, and unlike his predecessor, the dithering Theresa May, he did just that. He had no idea what would follow, but he deduced that decisiveness was, in voters’ minds, more important than content. Even as the negotiations floundered over the spring and summer, he declared that he would not delay the deadline for transition —deal or no deal—whatever the consequences.

Throwing Money Around

COVID-19 may have diverted him from his post-Brexit reveries; it may have exposed his failings, but, bizarrely for a crisis as existential as this one, it has also allowed him to luxuriate in his customary optimism—and to invite the Great British Public to do the same. How so? As with other countries, the economic exigencies have required the Treasury to throw the rule book into the bin. He can now throw money around with abandon, giving expression to his preferences and his prejudices. It did not go unnoticed around the world that pubs in Britain opened earlier than schools.

Like the British children’s television character, Bob the Builder, he has allowed himself to be termed Boris the Builder. “Build, build, build” was the slogan pinned to the lectern when he gave a speech in the English Midlands recently. Not content with being compared to Churchill, Johnson now likens himself to Franklin D. Roosevelt. Promising a “New Deal” to “rebuild Britain,” and blaming his predecessors for Britain’s woes, he vowed to use the coronavirus crisis “to tackle this country’s great unresolved challenges of the last three decades.” He continued: “To build the homes, to fix the National Health Service, to tackle the skills crisis, to mend the indefensible gap in opportunity and productivity and connectivity between the regions of the UK. To unite and level up.”

Much of the money will be spent in the North of England, which he is right to say has been starved of investment for decades. Johnson recognizes that many people in poorer, non-metropolitan parts of the country, the so-called “Red Wall” of traditional Labour voters, enabled his big majority in December’s general election by “lending” him their support. They did so because of Brexit, antipathy towards the then Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn—and his promises to “level up” the country. At the same time, Johnson’s people believe that they can keep a portion of the younger, more environmentalist, voters on side by pushing ahead with a green agenda. This could include incentives towards jobs and projects that help meet or even accelerate the country’s net zero carbon targets.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi Sunak—the only member of the cabinet to have emerged from coronavirus crisis with his standing enhanced—will announce a National Infrastructure Strategy as part of his budget in October. By then, unemployment in the UK will have soared as the well-received salary deferral scheme comes to a close. And most likely a second wave of the pandemic will have led to either a second national lockdown or more selected local ones. The atmosphere will be one of frustration and anxiety.

Taxes or Spending

Longer term, Johnson faces two interlinked dilemmas. With the UK having spent the best part of a decade under David Cameron paying down the deficit, he will have accrued one that dwarfs all previous challenges. Public opinion and economic thinking have long since moved away from ultra-austerity, but this current government will, within a few years, have to start addressing the problem. If Johnson refuses to cut spending, he will have to raise taxes. Which brings me to his underlying philosophical dilemma—if that isn’t too fancy a term to give it. How does he reconcile the dreams of many Brexiteer ideologues of creating a low-tax, low-regulation Singapore on the Thames, with his high-spending, earthy, nostalgic view of Britain? Could he create both? Could he have his cake and eat it. It is highly unlikely, but not impossible. He will try.

He has a certain amount of wriggle room. The Conservatives’ standing on the economy remains considerably above that of Labour, a traditional advantage they have almost always enjoyed over the years. Yet the steely and forensic approach of the still-new Leader of the Opposition, Keir Starmer, is beginning to unnerve Downing Street.

Even if Johnson’s ratings for economic competence begin to suffer, he has something else to fall back on. Again, in a mirror of Trump, he plays the culture war whenever he feels he is having a bad week.     

His agitator-in-chief, Dominic Cummings, having ignored the condemnation of his breaking lockdown rules and driving 400 kilometers from London to his parents’ home in the city of Durham, is back at his voracious best (or worst). Johnson’s right hand man loves to be noticed. This Rasputin-meets-Richelieu is even creating a new fashion, of dress-down tracksuit with shepherd’s walking stick. His call at the start of 2020 for “misfits and weirdos” to apply to work with the new government attracted the attention that was no doubt intended.

English Exceptionalism 2.0

Cummings likes to identify enemies and then remove them. He has already got rid of the government’s most senior civil servant, the Cabinet Secretary, and his equivalent in the Foreign Office. He wants wholesale reform of Whitehall and has also set his sights on the defense sector and the intelligence agencies. The assault on the BBC is incessant.

The plans have two aims. One is to create greater efficiency, which is to be applauded. Many a prime minister, not least Tony Blair, lamented the bureaucracy’s ability to stop fresh thinking. Alongside this is a more pervasive idea to create an English Exceptionalism 2.0. This borrows from nostalgic notions of an island nation, freed from the shackles of unprincipled Europeans, a nation of true-born and free Englishmen where liberties are uppermost. Foreign Secretary Dominic Raab has recently taken to attacking Russia and China for their human rights records, gliding over the fact that a parliamentary report into Russian influence, which Johnson refused to publish for nearly a year, revealed the extent to which the government deliberately failed to investigate Kremlin involvement in the Brexit referendum or the 2019 election.

Just as COVID-19 has turned all governments’ plans on their heads, so other events will also intervene. Two are easy to predict. Scottish parliamentary elections in May 2021 could produce a further uptick in support for the Scottish National Party. That will encourage Nicola Sturgeon to push hard for a second independence referendum. Johnson will seek to refuse it, leading to an epic struggle.

The single most important event will be the US presidential elections. If Trump wins (God forbid), Johnson’s role as the president’s best buddy will be enhanced. A trade deal with the US will be easier to negotiate (albeit more on the Americans’ terms). Yet it will cement a US-UK relationship that will be seen by much of the world as dangerously toxic. If Biden prevails, Johnson will have lost his prop. He will have to operate in a world that may, just may, be returning to the mainstream. How would he operate then? Would he be capable of another reincarnation? Such is his hubris, he would certainly try, suggesting all along that he was never the nationalist-populist that he was so “unfairly” accused of being.

John Kampfner’s new book Why the Germans Do It Better (Altantic Books) is out now.

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Belarus is an example of a country that made one wrong decision, and then for three decades its citizens have had to live with that choice—or in some cases die or languish in prison as a result. In Belarus, the death penalty is carried out with a shot to the back of the head. This is the case with politically motivated verdicts, too, only then the bodies are never found. The KGB is still called the KGB. It is Belarus that is the real heir to the USSR, or Soviet Union, with Russia coming in second. In 1991, when Belarusians voted on whether they wanted independence or preferred to stay in the USSR, 83 percent replied that they did not want independence. They got it against their will. After several years’ experience with democracy, they elected Aleksander Lukashenka in 1994 and allowed him to rule in true Soviet fashion, or at least did not put up too much of a fight. Belarusian society has repeatedly committed the sin of omission. And the opposition committed the sin of disintegration.

When Lukashenka came to power in 1994, he did so completely democratically. But then he seized control of the Constitutional Tribunal, then the public media, and then he subjugated the security services, the police, and the Central Election Commission. He staffed them with loyal underlings and took care of their salaries, and they made sure he was reelected. Maria Kolesnikova, the only one of the three opposition leaders who is still in Belarus (Svitlana Tsikhanouskaya is in Lithuania and Veranika Tsepkalo is in Russia), admitted openly that aside from the most recent election on August 9, Lukashenka would have won all previous presidential elections—democratically. Other opposition figures hold a different view, but do not deny that the president long enjoyed substantial support from the public. But he falsified this year’s electoral results, because a win of 55 percent would mean he is not the only leader, that he has some competition. And that’s out of the question. There was no opposition in the USSR.

History Unfolding

Why would Lukashenka have won? Because although he is a bandit, he is also a very skillful political player. Twenty-six years of dictatorial rule, maintaining independence from Russia and the West, and above all, a pretty good standard of living in Belarus—these are real achievements. Hardly anyone travels to Belarus, so few people know anything about the country, outside of a few specialists. Now that history is unfolding here, there are a handful of foreign journalists. Most did not receive accreditation and therefore did not come, but several journalists from Poland and Ukraine came without accreditation. I stayed in several places in Minsk, touring nearby towns and villages, and I was surprised by the quality of highways all across Belarus (funded by a special tax imposed for this purpose), the cleanliness and orderliness of the cities, the complete absence of traffic jams (they only happen when protesters try hampering the police), and the selection of goods in stores. Even in small towns, you can buy a hundred kinds of fish, and even sushi, despite the fact that Belarus is the largest landlocked country in Europe. These goods are too abundant to be destined for the oligarchs, because the Belarusian model gives the dictator a monopoly on corruption. Lukashenka controls corruption just as he controls election results or television programming. Of course, there is a group of rich people, but this is a society completely unlike Ukraine or Russia.

Four-fifths of GDP is generated by the state. Wherever citizens of other post-communist countries such as Poland buy clothes, food, or equipment produced by Western brands, Belarus has its own brands, factories, and advertisements in every market segment. Of course, they are usually of worse quality, but they work, look decent, and function as respectable “replacements.” At purchasing power parity, GDP per capita amounts to $22,000. For comparison, in Ukraine the figure is $10,000. If the Belarusian people succeed in overthrowing their dictator and opening their country to the world, they will be in a vastly better position than the Czech Republic, Hungary, or Poland in 1989. We won’t see Western capital swooping in and buying up whatever it wants and introducing its own brands. Belarusians won’t be relegated to cheap labor, and enterprises won’t collapse. Belarus not only has its own retail chains, restaurants, cars, and clothes, but also a very strong IT sector that Lukashenka cares deeply about and gives almost complete freedom. Of course, the “Belarusian economic miracle” or “Belarusian autarky” is largely financed by Russia, but it is also the result of independent development, good education, good management, and a strong work ethic.

Even Lukashenka’s greatest critics, including those whom he tortured like Ales Mikhalevich (a candidate in the 2010 presidential election), speak approvingly of the standard of living in Belarus. According to Mikhalevich, Belarus belongs to Northern Europe, which is why the country is characterized by cleanliness and a strong work ethic. And you see that everywhere. Lukashenka with all his quirks would not have survived for nearly three decades if Belarusians were starving, if they had nowhere to work and no opportunities to pursue. They emigrate for political rather than economic reasons. The current protests are taking place with slogans demanding freedom, not social improvements, although Belarusians are aware that the economy has for several years been consumed by a crisis.

No Soviet Nostalgia

The Belarusian diaspora has now become as active as its Polish counterpart used to be in the 1980s, and it consists mainly of students, academics, musicians, and corporate employees, not Uber drivers or retail workers. I am working with many emigrés who have come back to help. Others are unable to return to Belarus, but are doing their part from abroad. They are essential for newsgathering—they often have a better idea of what is happening just around the corner because they have the Internet at a time when Lukashenka has been shutting it down within Belarus (the country’s internet service provider is state-owned, although some people use private companies). The emigrés say that they are fed up with Lukashenka because he makes it impossible for them to live in Minsk. Whereas one fourth or one fifth of young people have left countries like Bulgaria and Lithuania, that has not happened in Belarus, and with good reason. Minsk, like any major city, is overflowing with young people and is already as modern as Warsaw or Prague were four or five years ago. In the IT sector the gap is even smaller.

Lukashenka’s problem is that a generation has grown up that no longer remembers the Soviet Union, but knows the West and its values very well. For them, the green and red Soviet flag is a form of treason; they carry the white-red-white flag adopted by the independent Belarusian state in 1918. Like Lukashenka himself, the Soviet flag is only popular among older people who spent their best years in the USSR, want stability, and enjoy regular, decent pensions. For the young generation, the former collective farm director who has ruled the country for 26 years is a freak of nature. They grew up outside the system. That is why nobody has to teach them about democracy or new technologies today.

The authorities have complete control of the official media, so a kind of second media sphere has arisen online. Independent media outlets do exist in Belarus today, mainly as internet portals, and their readership has grown by 300-400 percent in recent weeks, assuming mass scale. The most important of these are Nasha Niva, Radio Svaboda, and TUT.by. Popular channels on YouTube and Telegram (including, for instance, the one run by Siarhei Tsikhanouski, the jailed presidential contender whose wife Sviatlana replaced him on the ballot) also play a role. The most famous video bloggers have as many as several hundred thousand subscribers (Belarus is a country of nine million, with six million eligible voters). Independent media messaging is already reaching a large segment of society, and unofficial media outlets are considered credible. People see them as mainstream news sources where they can get information on issues such as the COVID-19 pandemic.

A Bungled Coronavirus Response

Lukashenka is mentally stuck in the 1990s, or even the 1980s. He hasn’t learned anything in terms of his messaging or his worldview, and he is unable to make effective use of the state-run media to counter independent reporting. All he can do is block the internet and cellphone networks at opposition rallies. On Sunday and Monday, the internet was effectively completely shut down. The IT sector and the economy more broadly are suffering as a result, and Belarus has lost some of its credibility with foreign partners. The opposition has ways to get around the internet shutdown using proxy servers and encryption applications. If you use a VPN and Psiphon, sometimes you can manage to connect.

Like some other world leaders, Lukashenka bungled his coronavirus response. When he denied the threat and failed to intervene, it seemed like a moral abdication. That was especially disappointing for the generation who feared for their parents. Belarusians had to deal with the threat of COVID-19 on their own and began to join together to buy masks and equipment, to help the sick and medical personnel. The regime lost ground, and civil society gained it. Bonds of solidarity were formed. People began to get to know each other and communicate with each other. The regime lost its legitimacy because it could no longer guarantee a basic level of security, and the economic crisis was making itself felt. When Lukashenka himself fell ill, instead of evoking sympathy, he merely further discredited himself.

Lukashenka also disregarded the political potential of women, who are propelling the opposition forward. The opposition’s electoral campaign was led by three women, and now it is women who form the backbone of the protests. A president who placed his wife under house arrest, had a son with his personal physician, and is famous for spending money on prostitutes, evokes disgust. The opposition’s women leaders quickly came to an understanding, united the opposition, and organized an exceptionally effective campaign staff. If a German or Polish politician were to visit the opposition’s campaign headquarters, a conversation with their social media specialists, event planners, and sociologists would give them an inferiority complex. I have observed several election campaigns in Poland and Germany, and there is really no comparison. This surplus of modernity is a reaction to the country’s political backwardness. The Polish opposition would do well to learn that it takes unity to overthrow a dictator. In Belarus, the opposition’s success took much more effort than winning an election in an ordinary democratic country. Breaking the government’s monopoly on information required IT specialists, very good social research, and the best social media specialists.

A Distinctive Identity

Another error by Lukashenka was losing his Russian guarantor. Russia, of course, prefers Lukashenka to the opposition and will not let Belarus out of its sphere of influence, but it no longer intends to make his life easier. Lukashenka can be satisfied that he was able to take advantage of Moscow for so long. He received raw materials at a steeply reduced rate, keeping the economy and the standard of living in Belarus at a much higher level than, for example, in Ukraine, but he was supposed to pay by surrendering independence. Meanwhile, integration with Russia has not taken place at the economic, legal, or political level. Belarus was supposed to adopt the Russian ruble, a common judiciary system, and a common parliament; state-owned enterprises were supposed to be handed over to Russia. Nothing like this ever happened, or if it did, only on a semi-fictitious basis. Even cultural Russification has begun to regress instead of solidifying. The independent media is bilingual, the Belarusian language is slowly recovering. Few dream of joining Russia anymore. Paradoxically, it was Lukashenka who created the Republic of Belarus as a country with a distinctive identity, even if it is linguistically Russified.

How will Russia react if Belarus breaks free of the dictator’s shackles? It will release its closest ally from its sphere of influence. That does not seem up for debate at all, and yet it is not an obvious point. I asked a number of excellent experts on the region, both inside Belarus (Valer Bulhakau) and abroad (Adam Michnik and Timothy Snyder), and all agreed that Russia would not intervene. There will be no Ukrainian scenario, because that has simply not paid off for Russia. It gained the Donbass and Crimea—meaning it gained only problems—and lost Ukraine. Before 2014, Ukrainian society was favorable to Russia and largely spoke Russian. Russia had economic influence and an ally. And now the Russian language is disappearing in Ukraine, the economy is slowly recovering, the military is arming, and Russia is the country’s primary enemy in the eyes of Ukrainians. Anyone who claims otherwise is just ashamed to admit it.

If Russia were preparing something, we would already see the groundwork being laid by the Russian press. There would be propaganda slandering the opposition, Putin would be inventing conspiracy theories and amassing troops at the border. Green men would not have gotten caught like the Wagner Group mercenaries who were mocked and shown half naked on TV. Lukashenka would be waxing poetic about Slavic unity, not shouting at Russia and accusing the mercenaries of attempting to take over his country. Nothing like that is happening. Russia is waiting for Belarus to define itself so that it can deal with whoever is in power. Putin is probably hoping that the Belarusian people will soon start quarreling internally, gas and oil can be sold to them at market prices, and the West will offer Belarusians little more than scholarships. That is better for Russia than seizing Vitebsk and then holding it at an astronomical cost while facing further Western sanctions. Belarusians would turn away from Russia, and in a few years Russian would cease to be their language.

Crackdown Backfires

A better scenario, for both sides, is to pursue something akin to the status of Armenia—a relatively independent, democratic state, generally favorable to Russia, that remains outside NATO and EU structures. This would suit the democratically-minded political elite, which does not want war. That creates a kind of geopolitical window of opportunity for the opposition at a time when the dictator’s authority is collapsing. At a time when the world is being flooded by a wave of authoritarianism, democracy could be spectacularly successful in the place one would least expect, that is, in Belarus, which had been forgotten by everyone.

Both experts and the people on the street estimate support for Lukashenka at no more than 15-20 percent, mainly in the provinces. There I encountered very sharp disputes between Lukashenka’s supporters and his opponents. Everyone talks about politics. You can feel that history is unfolding before our eyes. The situation is changing daily. Election day and the following day saw demonstrations. The opposition formulated a plan long before the election so that everyone would know what to do, even if the internet was shut off. Last Sunday’s protest, on August 9, took place at Minsk’s Victory Square, as planned. Lukashenka sent in the riot police, who managed to take control of the square bit by bit. The next day, people started to organize themselves around metro stations. A barricade was erected at the intersection near the Riga shopping center, but the sharpest confrontation took place at the large intersection by the Pushkinskaya metro station. There, the riot police were not content with taking control of the area. At one point, without warning, they attacked, shooting rubber bullets (photos and recordings were published on Facebook). The authorities moved from defensive to offensive operations. The internal troops armed with shields and clubs disappeared, replaced by riot police armed with rifles and undercover agents tracking down and arresting journalists.

Stun grenades, flash bangs, and water cannons were only a prelude to rubber bullets (including some produced in Poland, something the Polish Ministry of National Defense has failed to explain, even though is obligated to monitor sales by third countries), beatings, and combing the area for dispersed demonstrators. Thousands of people were arrested and then tortured in jail. Some 40-50 people were locked up in an eight-person cell. In Gomel, people were kept in police vehicles due to a lack of space at the detention center. As a result, one young man died. The independent press also documented the first instances of live ammunition being used.

Opposition Rebounds

Lukashenka’s security services moved on to a new phase the next night. They no longer waited for the demonstrators to show up, but began to demonstratively punish anyone who came out onto the streets. Cars were beaten with truncheons, and their drivers were pulled out and beaten. I drove past several such situations, and I saw one victim being resuscitated. On two separate nights, I saw 60-80 armored vehicles driving along Minsk’s main street, Independence Avenue. The sadistic violence had an effect. The demonstrations stopped. After 7,000 people were arrested, it seemed that Lukashenka would survive.

And then a miracle happened. On Wednesday, August 12, women and girls took to the streets en masse, wearing white, holding flowers, and showing the V sign. They lined the streets and demonstrated against violence. They demonstrated all day. It brought tears to one’s eyes. The car horns howled again. In the afternoon, the doctors who tended to the victims of police beatings joined in, saying they had never experienced anything like this before. The next day, Thursday, workers began to go on strike. One factory after another joined the strike. It began with the country’s largest and most prestigious industrial enterprises: the BelAZ truck factory, the nitrogen plant in Grodno, and tractor manufacturing plants in Minsk. Then the railroad joined, followed on Friday by the Minsk Metro. The workers stood with the women.

The security services were at their wits’ end. They had not foreseen something like this. How could they shoot and beat women, doctors, and workers armed with heavy machinery? The opposition regained the streets, restoring control of the situation and regaining political effectiveness. Social media was flooded with photos and videos of police officers throwing their uniforms into the trash and their torn-off epaulets into the toilet. Paradoxically, the lack of leaders strengthened the protest, because Lukashenka did not know whom to arrest. The protesting women were not afraid of anything. They stood in front of KGB buildings, they seized every street. Fifty soldiers were stationed in front of the National Assembly, and they symbolically lowered their shields. Women started adorning them with flowers and embracing the soldiers. This further discredited the Lukashenka regime, and served as a disarming example for other members of the security services.

Regime Teetering?

On Saturday, August 15, the staff of Belarusian state television (primarily technical staff, but also some presenters) began to show solidarity with the protestors. On Sunday, state television reported on the protests for the first time. This was yet another breakthrough. Natalya Kachanova, chairwoman of the upper chamber of the Belarusian parliament, showed up, but she was not able to mollify the crowd. She was joined by Natalya Eismont, Lukashenka’s press secretary and wife of Ivan Eismont, head of the state television company. The next breakthrough came when Belarusian diplomats began to oppose Lukashenka, beginning with the ambassador to Slovakia.

Lukashenka responded with a rally on Independence Square on August 17, with some 5,000-7,000 supporters who had been bussed in. Two hours later, the opposition showed that it was able to mobilize between 200,000 and 500,000 people. Lukashenka ordered paratroopers from Vitebsk to the western border. Officially, this was a reaction to actions by Lithuania and Poland. Lukashenka stated that the army had the strength and the means to quell peaceful protests. He also added that he had reached an agreement with Russian President Vladimir Putin regarding Russian assistance in pacifying the demonstrations. According to Lukashenka, Russia would respond as soon as it received a request from authorities in Minsk. He announced that the opposition would not come to power even after his death.

Speculating about the possible collapse of the regime in Belarus, we can rule out all scenarios that involve an agreement between Lukashenka and the opposition. The so-called the Spanish road to democracy or a round table scenario is out of the question. Lukashenka can end up either like Yanukovych or like Ceausescu—in exile (living off the fortune he stole) or shot in the same manner in which he killed his political opponents. His closest allies will face either the same fate, that, or international justice.

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© REUTERS/Vasily Fedosenko

A new generation of Belarusians has clashed violently with the security forces this week in reaction to what is widely perceived as a rigged presidential election on Sunday. The incumbent, Aleksander Lukashenka, was officially declared the victor on August 14, with 80.1 percent, while the promising challenger, Svitlana Tikhanovskaya, was attributed just 10.1 percent. These results, which had been provisionally published earlier, have been vehemently disputed.

Electoral observer reports have severely criticized the electoral process, the system of early voting and the counting of votes. A survey conducted by the Berlin-based Centre for East European and International Studies (ZOiS) prior to the elections found that less than 10 percent of young Belarusians said they intended to vote for Lukashenka.

The online survey was conducted from June 22 to July 4 among 2,000 respondents aged 18-34 who live in the country’s six largest cities and offers some insights into current developments in the country. Events since the election demonstrate that the regime has severely misjudged the public support that Tikhanovskaya and her team have gathered. Protests, strikes, and solidarity chains illustrate the growing distance between the paternalist regime, entirely dependent on its power structures, and society.

Worsening Economy and Decreasing Trust

Discontent has been on the rise and contradicts Belarus’ self-image as a stable welfare state caring for the well-being of its citizens in exchange for political freedoms. Russia’s generous energy subsidies have ended, real incomes have fallen and the official unemployment rate (2.3 percent) is widely perceived as fiction. Not much is left of the so-called “Belarusian model.”

The authorities’ mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic has now added to the already growing societal grievances. Young people have been hit particularly badly by the pandemic. Nearly 40 percent of the respondents in our survey stated that their employment situation had changed due to COVID-19—some were forced into unemployment and most into part-time employment. 53 percent of the young people surveyed were in full-time employment.

Trust in key state institutions has been eroding in the first half of 2020 in the context of the pandemic. In February 2020, young people expressed on average neutral trust ratings for the president and the security forces and positive ratings for the army. These numbers had deteriorated remarkably by the summer with 75 percent of young people expressing no trust in the president and the security forces. The numbers will likely have evolved further over the six weeks since the survey was carried out.

Today’s low approval rates are moreover a culmination of a gradual erosion of the relationship between youth and the establishment. In 2017, as part of the so-called parasite law, the authorities introduced a special tax for the unemployed. This triggered a wave of social protests across the country, leading to its revocation. Other measures included the tightening of a law penalizing the possession of (even light) drugs and the de facto abolition of deferments for young male conscripts to solve the armed forces’ recruitment problems.

Politicization of Youth

During the electoral campaign, young people had joined the large opposition rallies early on and they have been at the forefront of the post-election protests. Usually, protest participation among young Belarusians is low, on average below 5 percent, given the dangers to personal safety. This time threats to personal well-being have not stopped people from taking to the streets and expressing their frustration about the rigged election and the system in place.

A major factor in this mobilization has been social media. The Warsaw-based telegram channel NEXTA (nearly 2 million subscribers) and the channel of the independent news portal tut.by have turned into the main conduit through which people abroad and in the country communicate by means of encrypted traffic. For long, the internet has absorbed young people’s frustration and these digital natives have now turned into keyboard warriors. However, with the periodical internet shutdowns, activism has taken to the street.

Clashes with Police

Immediately following the presidential elections, it was predominantly young people who clashed with the special police force OMON and the Belarusian internal troops. The clashes have so far led to the arrest of more than 6,000 people, 250 hospitalizations and two confirmed fatalities. Young people on the streets are not, as Lukashenka suggests, criminals and unemployed people, but instead—our data suggests—they are a diverse group, including women and men, people with different economic backgrounds and from different cities. A heightened political interest and dissatisfaction with the status quo are the factors that unite them.

The brutal crackdown by the police force against activists and ordinary citizens alike are not new. The results of previous presidential elections in 2006 and 2010 have been equally contested when security forces violently quashed protests. Belarus under Lukashenka has always been a police state—with Europe’s highest police density rate. The security apparatus has proved to be particularly reform-resistant.

There are indications that such a response has been prepared in advance to prevent domestic destabilization. Nevertheless, there have been several online testimonies by members of the security forces quitting an apparatus perceived as oppressive.

The president has up to now been able to rely on the unfailing loyalty of Belarusian elites and state employees. This loyalty is grounded in their socialization. Most of them built careers under the current president, who represents continuity. For many commentators, the election this year raised hopes that this loyalty could dwindle, since it had become clear that elites, especially in the regions, are no monolithic bloc. But whether high-rank officers will abandon their loyalty and turn against the regime remains doubtful.

Europe’s Response?

Reactions by the European Union and Germany, as current holder of the EU Council presidency, to the events in Belarus have so far been muddled. There are two major hurdles to an adequate response.

First, Europe lacks a coherent Belarusian policy, because there was no need to have one. For many European policy-makers, Belarus played only a marginal role as it seemed dominated by Russia. The politicians who are now horrified by the events in Minsk and elsewhere are mostly the same ones that supported the lifting of sanctions in 2016—against the appeals of Belarusian civil society.

Second, formulating a coherent policy under current conditions is difficult given internal splits. Poland and Lithuania have been the first to condemn the elections and were joined by several other European countries and the EU. Whereas Lithuania seeks a leading position, Poland lacks credibility to advocate for human rights given its own conflicts with the EU over the rule of law. Other EU members, notably Hungary, have been less vocal, has been largely silent due to vested interests.

On the other hand, if Europe stays on the sidelines and only expresses compassion with Belarusians, this will lead to justified criticism. Not acting in such a moment of crisis is also a statement. It is important that the EU provide every support possible for the Belarusian opposition and stays engaged beyond the election period, something it has failed to do in the past.

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Source: Ember/Agora Energiewende

The public discourse about the energy transition tends to focus on the additive side: can we add enough wind turbines so that they produce a quarter of our electricity? From a climate protection point of view, however, it is the subtractive side of the transition that is relevant. The objective is to avoid burning fossil fuels, and it doesn’t matter to the atmosphere whether we do so by running the dryer on renewable power, making it more efficient, or not turning it on at all.

It’s a bit like tobacco, another product we burned for a long time before we were aware of the health effects. You might have no hope of giving up cigarettes unless you exercise, meditate, or vape. But doing all of those things, as nice as they might be, will do little to reduce your risk of lung cancer if you still smoke a pack a day.

This irksome fact—that we need to stop consuming still-valuable resources—is what makes the low-carbon energy transition different from previous transitions and coal exits such an important part of EU climate policy.

Coal’s Dying Embers

The good news is coal is on the way out in Europe. In 2019, wind and solar generated more electricity than fossil fuels for the first time ever, as EU-27 power plants burned 339 million tons of coal, down from 586 million tons in 2012. The pandemic-blighted year of 2020 has seen a further drop, with EU coal power generation down nearly a third thanks to a mild winter, low demand during lockdown, and the falling cost of renewables.

Though the trend line is clear, the Europe-wide statistics mask major differences between countries. Sweden, Austria, and Belgium have already closed down their last coal power plants. Coal is increasingly irrelevant for power production in the United Kingdom, Italy, and France, which all plan to quit coal completely over the next few years. Lagging behind are Slovenia, Bulgaria, Greece, and the Czech Republic, which all generate a sizable share of their electricity from coal but do limited damage to the climate because of their relatively small economies.

Then there’s Germany and Poland. Each generated about as much electricity from coal as the rest of the EU combined in the first half of 2020, and each plans to burn coal for many years to come.

The Kohleausstieg

In July, Germany adopted a law to ensure the end of coal power by 2038 at the latest. Unfortunately, the Kohleausstieg will happen so slowly that it is incompatible with the Paris Agreement goals—to reach those targets, the German Institute for Economic Research found, Germany would have to quit coal by 2030. Critics also argue that the law will give power companies too much compensation for running coal-fired plants that won’t be profitable anyway.

On the other hand, the process has been a shining example of how to steer and manage the decline of an important industry, with power companies, coal miners and coal regions, and a majority of the Bundestag able to reach a compromise. The €40 billion set aside for coal-dependent regions is a sign that the government realizes the scale of the job. And the coal exit could go faster in the end: the German Federal Network Agency, for one, expects it to be wrapped up by 2035. An expensive date that arrives too late is better than none at all.

Light at the End of the Mine

Poland has set no date for its coal exit. Deputy Prime Minister Jacek Sasin recently said, “We believe that Poland’s dependence on coal energy will come to an end in 2050 or even 2060,” a timeline that makes Germany’s plodding exit look like a hundred-yard dash.

While the nationalist-conservative PiS government is especially close with the coal industry, politics is not the only obstacle to rapid change. Poland is wary of replacing some coal with Russian gas (as Germany has done) and also has no nuclear power plants (a soon-to-be-realized German objective). Ahead of the 2019 parliamentary elections the biggest opposition group, the European Coalition, proposed 2040 as an end date for coal. It appears Poland’s coal replacement will be a slow one, whoever is in charge.

It’s not as if Polish decision-makers are unaware that the future for coal is not bright. The CEO of state-owned coal giant PGG, Tomasz Rogala, admits that “the situation is critical.” The Ministry of State Assets, which Sasin leads, reportedly planned to introduce a restructuring plan for PGG in late July. The plan would have closed several loss-making mines this year, temporarily cut miners’ salaries, created a fund for miners who quit to receive retraining, and perhaps even set a coal exit date of 2036.

In the face of pressure from powerful trade unions, however, the government had to walk back its restructuring plans. (Poland is going ahead with a plan to combine its three utilities in two groups, one for coal and one for non-coal energy, which could pave the way for more changes to come.) It now wants to set up a commission, including union representatives, to find a solution acceptable to all.

Coal miners will benefit from the government’s recent creation of a strategic reserve of hard coal worth €30 million, the latest installment of state support for an industry that has come to rely on it. Polish miners are having to dig deeper and deeper to access coal, which makes it more expensive. In fact, Polish firms have been importing huge quantities of Russian coal because it is cheaper and higher quality, quite a contradiction for a country with such concerns about becoming dependent on energy from the east.

Angry Neighbors

Higher costs for mining, pressure from citizens upset about foul air—in 2016 Poland had 33 of the 50 most polluted cities in Europe—these are the internal forces working against the Polish coal industry. But there is external pressure too, mostly from Brussels. The rising cost of EU emissions permits over the last three years has only added to coal-fired plants’ expenses. And one reason that Polish utilities have risked miners’ fury to import Russian coal is because its sulfur content is low enough to comply with EU regulations, unlike the Polish stuff.

As European climate regulations get stricter and the EU budget gets larger, these external pressures will grow. For instance, according to the EU budget and recovery package agreed last month under Germany’s EU Council presidency, Poland will receive only 50 percent of the funds it is eligible for under the EU’s €17.5 billion Just Transition Fund because it has declined to sign up to the EU goal of net-zero emissions by 2050.

Missing out on a small share of that money, meant for the EU’s most vulnerable fossil fuel-dependent regions, won’t fundamentally change the coal equation for Polish leaders. Yet the fact that the EU is making some funds conditional on climate action (if not adherence to the rule of law) sets a precedent that could be costly for Warsaw. If the EU approves the European Commission’s proposal to increase the 2030 emissions reduction target from 40-55 percent, Poland would have real difficulties meeting its obligations.

Unsatisfying Council Conclusions

By the time of the next EU budget negotiations in 2027, coal will face an even more unfavorable environment. EU politics will be even more Europeanized, perhaps even with transnational lists for European Parliament candidates. The next budget will likely represent a bigger share of member-share revenue and be more conditional on climate action—and pressure from international bodies and trading partners will weigh heavier too.

We could even look ahead to Germany’s next European Council presidency, sometime around 2034. Greta Thunberg will be 31, the next generation of youth climate activists will be even less compromising, and EU consumers will demand more information about the carbon footprint of their products. Poland and Germany, however, will still be burning coal for electricity. Coal may be in decline in Europe, but there is still a lot of work to do to ensure we aren’t having the same debates about coal exits in seven years, or in fourteen.

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© REUTERS/Fabrizio Bensch

Try to picture what Angela Merkel would be like as a man, slightly younger and of West German origin. But just as solid, rational, and pragmatic as the woman who has governed Germany for the last 15 years. Unimaginative, yet endowed with a wicked sense of irony (mostly kept private). Combining political flexibility with a lot of experience and a deft hand at power play.

You are bound to end up with Olaf Scholz, 62, current vice-chancellor and finance minister. In terms of character and politics, he is Merkel’s twin—and so far, also her most important ally in the cabinet. And if it was up him—and now his party, too—Scholz would become her successor as well.

In a surprise coup, Germany’s Social Democrats on August 10 nominated Scholz as their candidate for the chancellery in the 2021 elections. The surprise was in the timing, a very long 13 months away from the likely polling day, and in the unanimity of the decision. But not in the choice itself: in a party that has used up leaders at a crazy rate, Scholz is the last popular, well-known figure (read our 2018 profile of him here.)

He owes this popularity in equal parts to his own talent, his excellent working relationship with Merkel, and the appeal of his sober pragmatism during the coronavirus crisis. Yet as a nominee, he will now be exposed to much closer and more unforgiving attention.

In the Spotlight

The Wirecard scandal—a huge case of fraud in a now-bankrupt German payments system company that should have been uncovered and stopped by financial regulators reporting to the finance minister years earlier—may provide a first taste of the changed atmosphere. Politicians from every other party will now try to lay the blame at Scholz’s door.

Even apart from Wirecard, Scholz will have to perform a multiple balancing act until the 2021 elections. It begins with his own party, a divided and self-destructive organization, where Scholz is respected but not liked. Just nine months ago, Germany’s Social Democrats (SPD) passed him over for the party leadership and chose two relatively unknown politicians from the left wing instead.

In any case, the SPD has been moving much further left as its election results have deteriorated–yet Scholz appeals to voters precisely because he is a moderate. As a candidate, he will need to motivate his party to campaign for him while reassuring centrist voters that they need not fear drastic changes. That may not be easy: the SPD’s most plausible claim to the chancellery means entering a coalition with not only the Greens, but the socialist Left Party.

New Rifts

In the meantime, Scholz will be facing new rifts within the grand coalition with Merkel. Earlier this year, Scholz could rely on the Christian Democrats (CDU/CSU) to support the enormous spending programs he designed to help the German economy survive the COVID-19 crisis. But what happens if the pandemic continues and the slump gets deeper? Merkel’s conservatives will hesitate to endorse further deficit spending for ideological reasons. But they also won’t want to hand Scholz another victory.

The same is true at the European level, only more so. Scholz is a European integrationist. Even before coronavirus, he broke with some of the taboos set by his predecessor in the finance ministry, Wolfgang Schäuble, by backing, for instance, a European deposit insurance scheme. When the pandemic set in, Scholz worked closely with his French counterpart to push for more generous European support to those member states that were hit hardest by the virus.

As candidate for the chancellery, Scholz said that a European Union based on more solidarity was going to be one of his main concerns. Such a stance is bound to lead to conflict within the current coalition. Merkel did put her considerable political weight behind financial support for weaker EU countries this summer. But many in her party quietly disagreed.

Tensions over Europe

Such tensions are certain to rise to the surface now as the race to succeed Merkel heats up within the conservative bloc. It is lucky for Europe that the EU budget deal was finalized in the early weeks of the German EU presidency; during the remaining four months, the emerging domestic differences are going to be much more of a hindrance.

Just before Scholz’s nomination, the SPD stood at 15 percent in the polls, behind Merkel’s conservatives (38 percent) but also the Greens (18 percent). Scholz does not lack self-confidence; he believes that a good candidate can add 10 percent to the score. But even then, and even if SPD remains united behind Scholz, the math remains uncertain.

Much depends on the future course of the pandemic. Politically, the COVID-19 crisis has boosted both Merkel’s and Scholz’s approval ratings. When Merkel leaves office next year, will German voters turn to her closest political look-alike? It’s possible. But so is the reverse. A German public that is fed up with the pandemic and its effects on everybody’s life may want to opt for change.

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© REUTERS/Annegret Hilse

Seven years ago DIE ZEIT foreign editor Jörg Lau provocatively wrote of the “German love of dictators,” pointing to Germany’s uncritical embrace of autocracies, kleptocracies, and theocracies in the name of smoothly doing business, be it China, Russia, or Iran. Lau criticized the German tendency to value “stability” above all else and to characterize the alternative to dictators like Vladimir Putin always as “chaos, separatism, nationalism or even Communism.” Attempts at criticizing regimes like Putin’s was regularly denounced as “hyper-moralism”—and who are the Germans to play the school master of the world given their history?

Strikingly, this approach remains dominant in the case of Germany’s relationship with China, too. Peter Altmaier, the Economy Minister and close confident of Chancellor Angela Merkel, gave an interview on July 15 to Politico Europe defending Berlin’s refusal to take a hard line over China’s repression of Hong Kong. Altmaier argued that those advocating a more strident approach were ignoring the economic consequences of confronting Beijing. He sounded like many of his Social Democratic (SPD) predecessors, making the case for Wandel durch Handel (“change through trade”), stating, “I have always been convinced that change can be achieved through trade.” He argued that this strategy had worked with the former Soviet Union and remained the core of the German approach to the Middle East, Africa, and Asia.

Dangerous Misconception

This answer and approach are mistaken and are quite dangerous in the longer term. The phrase of Wandel durch Handel came out of the earlier formulation of Egon Bahr of Wandel durch Annährung, or “change through rapprochement.”  This was the original concept behind the shift in the West German strategy toward the Soviet Union in the early 1970s under Chancellor Willy Brandt from one of a policy of strength to one of dialogue.

Many Germans, especially Social Democrats, believe to this day that this was the primary factor behind the peaceful reunification of Germany in 1990. It’s true that West Germany’s acceptance of the postwar territorial order and the renunciation of claims for the lost lands in the east were crucial to Mikhail Gorbachev’s acceptance that Germany was no longer a threat to the Soviet Union. Without the support of the United States, however, both with its extended deterrent and diplomacy, German unification would not have happened the way it did.

This way of thinking also downplayed the major political and ideological differences between the West and Communist East to the point that Chancellor Helmut Schmidt agreed with the East German Communist leader, Erich Honecker, that martial law was necessary in Poland in 1981. Stability trumped ideological differences, democracy, and human rights. This was a form of realism to be sure and another example of the German love of stability.

The Primacy of Economics

The reasons behind Germany’s passivity lie in the nature of the its geo-economic approach to foreign policy, which is grounded in its political economy. Germany is the most export driven economy in the world, with close to half of its GDP deriving from exports. It also has the globe’s largest per capita current accounts surplus, is heavily dependent on industry and on the import of energy and other raw materials to fuel its industrial core. The business of Germany is business and despite the importance of Moralpolitik and the need to atone for the crimes of the Third Reich, economics is seen as the foundation of both German democracy and Berlin’s international role.

This approach was adapted to Putin’s Russia from 2008 under the “partnership for modernization” of then-Foreign Minister Frank-Walter Steinmeier during the first Merkel Grand Coalition government. This concept argued that change would come through economic interdependence, or Verflechtung. The growing authoritarianism of the Putin regime and the Russian invasion of Ukraine shook, but did not break this illusion. To this day, however, German investment and trade with Russia has done practically nothing to open up the political and judicial system of Russia or to reduce its rampant corruption. Based on data compiled by Transparency International, Russia ranks 137 out of 198 countries in terms of corruption and its score of 28 out of a possible 100 has not changed since 2012. There is little evidence of much Wandel here.

Tough on Trump, Soft on Xi

China is a much more different and more important matter, given its much greater economic weight. Both China and Russia have violated international agreements with impunity, Russia in Ukraine and China in its agreement with the United Kingdom on the “one country, two systems” concept for the status of Hong Kong. Like many other Western corporations, German companies like Volkswagen, Siemens, and BASF are manufacturing in Xinjiang province where Uyghurs and other Muslims are being held in interment and labor camps.

Chancellor Merkel has been silent and Altmaier argues that it might be “too risky to pursue a confrontational course” against China. Yet, there is more risk in dealing with a country which openly violates its international agreements and lies without any attempt at pretending they are doing so. Accommodation conveys weakness and invites further pressure and blackmail, undermining the economic and political objectives of the strategy.

While German leaders have been rightly critical of US President Donald Trump’s disregard for democracy and human rights, they have their own version of value free transactional policies with regard to China, Russia, Hungary, and other illiberal regimes. Merkel’s and Altmaier’s Christian Democrats (CDU) continue to welcome Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz into the European People’s Party caucus in the European Parliament; and the government has no qualms about German car makers continuing to invest in Hungarian plants.

Thus, Berlin is not likely to use its EU presidency in the second half of 2020 to stand up to Orbán and to the consolidation of illiberalism in Poland. The current discussions in the EU about a COVID-19 fiscal stimulus package raised the issue of tying economic support to the rule of law, specifically in regard to Hungary, but this was kept out of the European Council’s final agreement.

Time to Change the Tune

With Germany presently at the EU’s helm, this would be the time to show that the EU stands for more than just economic power. Non-governmental organizations like Transparency International and German foundations have promoted a more values-based approach including support for democratic reforms, but so far Merkel’s government has fallen far short of expectations that Germany can be a leader for liberal values.

This is the more troubling since Germany’s geo-economic position is under threat from both China and Russia. The issue of intellectual property rights, equal and reciprocal access to the Chinese market, and the role of Chinese investment and takeovers of German companies in key sectors is central to Germany’s continued economic power and independence. This was pointed out last year in a major study by the German Confederation of Industry, the BDI. Russian investments, like Nord Stream 2, pose the prospect of Wandel in Germany rather than in Russia with the export of corruption and political influence buying in Germany itself, not to mention the continued waging of hybrid war by Putin in Germany.

As Lau pointed out in his 2013 article, demand for German products, investment, and expertise will survive a more balanced and critical approach. The Chinese will continue to demand German automobiles and German technology even if the chancellor meets with the Dalai Lama or is critical of the suppression of democratic rights in Hong Kong. Putin will continue to pump gas and provide oil to the German market.

Germans need to learn the lessons of their neighbors. The UK spoke of a new “golden decade” of relations with China under David Cameron, but now Boris Johnson’s government has reversed course banning Huawei from the UK 5G network and sharply criticizing China’s violation of the agreement on Hong Kong. The French government under Emmanuel Macron has also taken a tougher line on Beijing (see also “Pariscope: Macron’s Entente Cordiales Against China”).

Germany is in a far stronger position than the UK to exercise its economic power to speak for its values. Along with Paris, Berlin is key to the development of a strong EU position on China, Russia, and on authoritarians in Europe. As Andreas Fulda recently argued in a commentary for the British think tank RUSI, “Europe can no longer afford Germany’s unprincipled and failed China policy of change through trade… While trade clearly matters, European values need to be defended too.”

NB. Noah Ramsey contributed research to this article.

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There is no doubt that the French are a self-sufficient bunch. After all, it was a Frenchman who once wrote, “Hell is other people.”

COVID-19 or not, the French rarely travel abroad for holidays. In terms of food, most French people think they have it best. And at housewarming parties in Paris, the music playlist is usually primarily made up of chansons and French rap classics.

And despite President Emmanuel Macron’s attempts to turn Europe into a global “balancing power,” what happens abroad doesn’t seem to spark much interest at home. The evening news on the public channel on average dedicates 16 percent of its coverage to European and foreign news. By comparison, that proportion rises to 50 percent in Germany. No surprise then that polls show the average French person knows little about the functioning of the EU.

But if this cliché about French aloofness is easily backed up with data points, another common trope about the Gauls doesn’t: that of French arrogance.  At least when it comes to the present, the French are brutally self-critical.

Ruminating

In fact, France seem to be among the least chauvinistic countries in Europe. Asked whether they think their culture is superior to others, 36 percent of the French answered “yes” in a recent poll. This compares to 46 percent in the United Kingdom and 45 percent in Germany.

Or take the COVID-19 crisis: unlike other nations, the Republic’s citoyens won’t rally around the flag. Among Europeans, the French give their government the lowest grades for its handling of the pandemic. Never mind that four of France’s neighbors have significantly higher death-per-capita rates. Never mind either that France’s short-time work benefits are among the most generous, also explaining why consumption is almost back to pre-crisis levels.

Of course, one could explain the French’s dim view of the state’s COVID-19 response as being due to Macron’s unpopularity. But by French standards, the president is actually polling relatively well. At 39 percent, Macron’s approval ratings surpass his predecessors François Hollande (23 percent) and Nicolas Sarkozy (35 percent) at the same point in their terms.

The negative view the French have of their country goes far beyond the complaint du jour. As Macron put it, “We are a country that for decades is divided and in doubt.”

Livre de Plage

Claudia Senik, an economics professor at the Paris School of Economics researching happiness, might have one explanation for why the French are so downbeat about themselves.

Studying cross-national polls, she found that the French have much lower levels of life satisfaction than other countries with similar socio-economic profiles. Senik observed that even when living abroad, French expats are less happy than the local population. This led her to argue that there must be something about France’s cultural “mentality” and education that makes them less happy than their wealth would otherwise suggest.

It’s easy to see where Senik is getting her cues: The French associate intelligence with skepticism. This is still the country that gave birth to René Descartes and existentialism. Today’s best-selling authors are the likes of Virginie Despentes, Michel Houellebecq, and Édouard Louis, who depict contemporary France as a decaying and violent society. More conciliatory books are relegated to the livres de plage category: A distraction to accompany your sunbathing at the beach, but not serious literature.

Finally, there is also a “foul your own nest” premium. Actor Gerard Depardieu insults the French as “a people of idiots” and takes on Russian citizenship. He is only surpassed by comedian Louis de Funès in box office sales. The late rock’n’roll and pop icon Johnny Hallyday moved to Switzerland in the 2000s bashing France’s tax system. Still, the country’s entire political elite joined the roughly 1 million French who flooded the streets of Paris to attend the star’s funeral in 2017. The French love the ones that hate them.

Declinism

Nonetheless, there is more to France’s ruthless self-criticism and declinist tradition than intellectual vanity. Questioned about his negativism, Houellebecq wondered whether he is depressive or the world is depressing.

Indeed, the state of the world has not helped. In geopolitical terms, the former imperial power has long been in decline. And France’s dirigiste economy and society made the country look passé for much of the last 30 years of liberal hegemony.

Add to this the exceptional expectations the French have of their state, and France’s malaise is unsurprising. Frustration is a function of expectations minus reality, psychologists say. The republic’s moto of “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,” written above every school entrance, is a high bar compared to Germany’s “Unity, Law, and Freedom.”

No wonder the French see their past presidents as a succession of failures. No wonder France has been leading from behind in the OECD’s trust in government indicator for a long time. The paradox, however, is that despite the fact that politics unremittingly disappoints the French, they continue to perceive the state as the solution to each and every single economic and societal problem.

Beyond the Nation State

Another interesting finding from Senik’s research is that foreigners that move to France gradually adopt the locals’ tendency to see the wine glass half empty. It’s been a bit more than two years since I’ve moved to Paris, so please allow me to finish on a slightly optimistic note.

First, the country’s gloomy intellectual establishment is wrong-footed by their compatriots every once in a while. Houellebecq rubbed his eyes in astonishment at Macron’s election in 2017, commenting, “This is the first time I’ve seen positive thinking actually work.”

And second, because of their state-centrism the French sense more strongly the limits of the nation state in today’s world. Europe is no longer just an instrument for French great power status, as Charles de Gaulle viewed it, but a necessity for France to protect its way of life. This explains how Macron managed to get elected not in spite of, but rather thanks to his ambitious EU platform. And this change in the scale of thinking—going beyond the nation state—is what the world needs to confront most major challenges.

And now on to your livre de plage!

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© REUTERS/Annegret Hilse

In many places, left-wing parties and especially those on the center-left are struggling for their survival. The technical term for this phenomenon is “Pasokification.” The formula refers to the long-standing Greek social democratic party, the Panhellenic Socialist Movement or PASOK, which was thrown out of government in 2013 after barely achieving a vote share in the double digits. It has since served as a warning sign for the unstoppable decline of former major parties.

Observers spoke at that time of a unique shock, but Pasokification is by now (almost) everywhere. Sure, historically the center-left has always had to accept painful losses of votes. In recent years, however, the decline of the left no longer seems to be reliably followed by phases of recovery. PASOK, for example, received just 8.1 percent of the vote in last year’s elections—and that was in an alliance with several smaller left-wing parties.

But it shares this fate with many socialist and social democratic parties, some of which have shaped the fate of their societies for decades: the Labour Party in Israel, the Social Democrats in Austria, the Labour Party in the United Kingdom, and other center-left parties in Ireland, Spain, Italy, Australia, and of course Germany, where the country’s oldest party, the SPD, now seems stuck with a support of 15 percent. In all these countries, center-left parties have long been political fixtures, and yet today they face existential challenges.

A cartography of left-wing governmental responsibility leads to a world map with only a few red spots: In Portugal and Spain, in Sweden, Denmark and Finland, social democrats or socialists lead governments, and beyond Europe they also rule in Mexico and New Zealand. Otherwise the map looks conservative or liberal, if not populist-autocratic.

Victims of Fragmentation

So, what is going wrong? The analysis is complicated not only by ideological differences, but also by the fact that analytically it is almost impossible to separate the shock of the left from the more general crisis of those parties that traditionally had broad appeal to many parts of the electorate.

Yes, left-wing parties are losing not only elections but also members, and with few exceptions, worldwide. But in times of individualization this is true for conservative parties and ultimately for mass organizations as a whole: trade unions, churches, associations. One consequence is a political fragmentation, which is not least supported by the desire for ideological clarity. “I want to be part of a youth movement,” sang the Hamburg band Tocotronic many years ago. But who today longs to be part of a big political party?

The center is shrinking, the number of parties in the parliaments is increasing, and the ideological span is growing. For years, the vanguard of this development was the Netherlands, which currently has 13 parliamentary parties. But the trend can now be observed in every advanced Western democracy, with the exception of those with strong winner-takes-all voting systems, such as the UK or the United States.

So, is the crisis of the left merely part of a general malaise of the parties? The empirical evidence suggests otherwise. In fact, embedded in the distress of the parties, left-wing politics is experiencing a crisis within a crisis. Many formerly decidedly “left” parties have recently renamed themselves “progressive” or “progressive” movements. The Socialist International (SI) has been supplemented and partly replaced by a Progressive Alliance. Programmatically, the Swiss Social Democrats currently describe themselves as “the most important force for progress.” The Parti Socialiste in France also promotes “human progress,” while comrades in Austria place themselves “at the forefront of progress.” But what if progress causes concern rather than confidence? Opinion polls in the EU and the US show time and again that less than 30 percent of people are optimistic about the future. For parties that see themselves as parties of the future, this is not an optimal starting position.

Seen globally, optimism has long since migrated to the global South—despite having objectively limited life chances. In Western democracies, on the other hand, optimism about progress has found new homes: in liberal alternatives—in France, for example, with the particularly pro-European Emmanuel Macron—but also in parts of the Green movements, which have largely abandoned the culturally pessimistic criticism of progress of their founding years. Ecological movements are still a phenomenon of developed industrialized countries—in all 54 sovereign African states taken together, for example, there are only a handful of Green members of parliament. But in many OECD countries, public interest in the issue of climate protection has proven to be a powerful driver for Green parties.

The parallel success of right-wing populist forces can be seen as a significant counterbalance to this approach and is also reflected in the demographic composition of the electorate.

Even before the left started to melt, this polarization was supported by the prominence of issues that seem unfavorable for center-left parties. The eurocrisis, refugees and migration, climate protection: in none of these fields have center-left parties in European democracies traditionally shown any special competence. But can thematic trends alone explain long-term crises?

“The End of the Social Democratic Age”

It is characteristic of the current crisis of the left that the discussion of causes precedes the actual manifestation of symptoms by years, in some cases decades. As early as 1983 Ralf Dahrendorf proclaimed “the end of the social democratic age” and predicted the current crisis of the left, seeing it as a consequence of its success. In Western industrialized countries in particular, he said, distribution conflicts had been so completely resolved by the work of social democracy that the healing of society made it possible to stop taking medication. “In the end,” Dahrendorf stated, “we almost all became social democrats.” The diagnosis applies today to numerous Western societies and has serious consequences for the differentiation of social democratic policies.

It is difficult to contradict the broad strokes of Dahrendorf’s thesis, but there are real questions about the details. Certainly, one can hardly deny that there has been socio-political and economic progress. But the diagnosis of social saturation seems to depend heavily on one’s own perspective. For years, surveys have shown that majorities worldwide perceive the prevailing economic system as highly unjust. In addition, rising rents, insecure employment and extremely unequal opportunities in life remain such a massive problem in many places that the goal of social justice can hardly be seriously considered to have been reached.

A completely different, yet also influential approach to explaining the current crisis of the left also refers to successes, but—apparently paradoxically—to the electoral successes of left-wing parties themselves. These are the ideological reforms of left-wing parties using key phrases such as “New Labour”, “Third Way” and “Neue Mitte.” Based on the successes of Tony Blair and Bill Clinton, numerous center-left parties attempted to reinvent themselves as a force of the center in the 1990s. From the Netherlands, Finland, and Germany to New Zealand, Israel, and Brazil, party leaders relied on a credo that, according to the Schröder-Blair paper, “Europe: The Third Way/Die Neue Mitte,” “the essential function of markets must be complemented and improved by political action, not hampered by it.”

At the ballot box, this break with tradition initially proved to be a recipe for success. However, privatization, liberalization, supply-side policies and often significant cuts to state welfare services made left-wing parties attractive to the middle of the political spectrum only to the extent that they appeared to be increasingly unattractive to those further to the left. Looking back, it is hardly surprising that this economic middle course strengthened alternative offers from the far left and from a social-chauvinist new right, not only in Germany but also in Greece, France and Italy. This ideological break came in combination with political flexibility, which resulted in numerous coalition formations with center-right parties.

Neither “Neue Mitte” Nor Radical Left

Comprehensive criticism of the aberration of the “Neue Mitte” has recently almost developed into a basic consensus of left-wing Social Democrats. It is not only the leader of youth wing of the SPD, Kevin Kühnert, who calls the Schröder-Blair years a “original sin.” At party congresses in Austria, too, the social reforms of the “Third Way” have been comprehensively, ritually exorcised as a neoliberal “demon”—not to mention Great Britain and Italy, where clearly left-wing party leaders Jeremy Corbyn and Nicola Zingaretti took over the party leadership from Third Way supporters.

In this widespread, more economic reading of the crisis, center-left parties are and will remain called upon to rediscover classic redistribution positions and to bring about a renaissance not only of their own values but also of the conflict over economics as the decisive playing field for elections. In political reality, however, turns to left-wing economic purity have rarely proved successful in the long term. Lost trust is difficult to win back—especially for a left-wing party that wants to continue to participate in government. Only in crisis-ridden Portugal does a center-left party seem to have succeeded so far in assuming lasting government responsibility by adopting a decidedly leftist course. Elsewhere, clearly leftist parties seem to be fading after a brief surge.

The short-term successes of more radical left-wing hopefuls such as Alexis Tsipras in Greece, Jean-Luc Mélenchon in France, Pablo Iglesias in Spain and not least Bernie Sanders in the US appear to have evaporated, at least for the time being. Even the “Jeremy Corbyn Blueprint,” which the US magazine Jacobin still saw as a signpost “for the coming years” in 2017, seemed to have faded, at least until the outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic. One reason is probably that the forces driving anti-elitist left-wing populism are difficult to translate into sustained political support. The question is: if the key to rescuing the center-left is really turning toward the more radical left, why do the more radical alternatives that already exist fail at the ballot box—or like Bernie Sanders fail to be nominated?

New Dividing Lines?

Starting from this question, another school of thought has established itself in recent years. This line of thinking sees the current crisis as being rooted in a combination of economic blunders and cultural errors, which together led to a loss of traditional voter milieus. The British journalist David Goodhart has proven to be influential in the Anglo-Saxon discourse here, noting a division of Western societies into globalization-friendly “anywheres” and more traditionalist, more nationally oriented “somewhere.” For Goodhart, this dividing line represents a new social divide that runs through the traditional core electorate of center-left parties. In the German-speaking world, this analysis corresponds to the contrast between communitarians and cosmopolitans described in particular by the political scientist Wolfgang Merkel.

Attempts by center-left parties to compensate for the economic course of the “Third Way” through progressive flagship projects in the field of identity politics or with regard to an open attitude to immigration issues are not only unsuitable for returning alienated voters to the parties. In fact, they exacerbate the problem. Precisely because compromises are more difficult to reach in identity politics than in economics, this new line of conflict undermines the traditional voter coalition of center-left parties. In this context, my colleague at the Friedrich Ebert Foundation Ernst Hillebrand speaks convincingly of a center-left “that stands with one leg each on two ice floes that are slowly but inexorably drifting apart.” The parties are forced to decide to which segment of society they will make urgent political offers. However, since any shift in emphasis on the cultural conflict axis is likely to face considerable resistance from the remaining electorate, a shift in direction would only be possible at the price of an initial worsening of the crisis.

Perhaps because of its far-reaching implications, this interpretation has so far met with little response in progressive parties themselves. Critics of this view not only reject on moral grounds any suggestions of adapting to political opponents; they also fear that progressive parties could lose the last shred of credibility if they appear to be trying to ingratiate themselves with supporters of conservative positions. After all, in the end people will likely still choose “the original.” The question remains, however, as to how these critics explain the success of parties that are economically left wing, but more conservative in terms of identity politics. The SPÖ in the Burgenland region of Austria, the Social Democratic Party of Denmark or the Scottish National Party, ultimately achieve not only respectable successes with this orientation, but comprehensive election victories.

They thus prove that a combination of left-wing economics and rather conservative values on the cultural conflict axis can certainly attract non-voters and keep the growth of right-wing populist movements in check. It is important to note that adopting conservative values should not be misunderstood as a reactionary backlash, but rather as the preservation of progressive achievements such as equality, secularism, and sexual self-determination.

The Return of the Strong State

Will the COVID-19 pandemic now bring about party-political shifts that affect this crisis? In principle, the way Western societies are dealing with the coronavirus and the varying performances of ultimately competing systems in international comparison should strengthen left-wing political agendas in the short term. While the decisive role that nation states have played in the first phase of the virus control seems at first to run counter to multilateral convictions, it also reinforces the center-left narrative of a strong state capable of action and the primacy of politics.

This applies not only to concrete policy areas, but also, at least possibly in the short term, to a reassessment of traditionally defined work.

In this regard, the Overton window, the window of acceptable policy proposals, has rapidly shifted toward progressive policies during the pandemic. Demands that seemed controversial just months ago have become commonplace almost overnight: massive state investments, proposals for a significant deepening of European integration, an increase in the minimum wage, better pay for “systemically important professions,” growing support even for an unconditional basic income. The left, it seems, is taking to heart the advice of Barack Obama’s advisor Rahm Emanuel to “never let a serious crisis go to waste.”

Certainly, the crisis is evidence of humanitarian commitment, solidarity, and a rediscovery of community. But it gets tricky when one looks at a longer time period. Empirically, there is little evidence so far that economic crises contribute directly to long-term gains in solidarity and to the strengthening of the left.

The 1918 flu epidemic, for example—as American sociologist Lane Kenworthy points out—put an end to two decades of progressive reform in the United States, while the crises of the 1970s and 1980s did not result in the triumph of the left, but in the presidency of Ronald Reagan. Not to mention the consequences of the 1929 Great Depression: at least in large parts of Europe, Black Friday was not followed by Red Saturday but by the disastrous triumph of Brown ideologies. And the economic and financial crisis of 2008 not only allowed neoliberalism to survive but also resulted in a worldwide wave of populism.

The US political scientist Ronald Inglehart has made a significant contribution to understanding the underlying causes of these developments. Based on decades of opinion research in more than a hundred countries, his studies show that the development of progressive values has historically always depended on the perception of economic security. “Reduced job security and rising inequality encourage authoritarian reactions.” A high level of existential security, however, strengthens “openness to change, diversity, and new ideas.”

Not All Will Prosper

In view of the economic consequences of the pandemic, it can therefore be assumed that conflicts over redistribution are likely to experience an exceptional renaissance—and will compete with climate policy concepts for attention. However, in line with the historical experience of the New Deal and the development of the Swedish welfare state, known as the Folkhemmet or People’s Home, for example, left-wing parties are likely to benefit from this trend only where they see themselves in a position to play a decisive role in shaping political developments in the direction of safety nets.

Conversely, however, left-wing forces can hardly rely on an automatic impact of post-pandemic solidarity. On the contrary, there is much to be said for a feedback loop in which strong left-wing forces will tend to be further strengthened, while weak left-wing forces will tend to be further weakened. The “opportunities of the crisis,” which Dahrendorf spoke of in the context of the liberal movement, actually exist for the political left in the age of the coronavirus. It will not be strong enough everywhere to take advantage of these opportunities.

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