European Foreign Policy in an Evolving International System: The Road Towards Convergence (Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics)

European Foreign Policy in an Evolving International System The Road Towards Convergence

Edited by

Nicola Casarini and Costanza Musu

Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics Edited by: Michelle Egan, American University USA, Neill Nugent, Manchester Metropolitan University, UK, William Paterson, University of Birmingham, UK Editorial Board: Christopher Hill, Cambridge, UK, Simon Hix, London School of Economics, UK, Mark Pollack, Temple University, USA, Kalypso Nicolaïdis, Oxford UK, Morten Egeberg, University of Oslo, Norway, Amy Verdun, University of Victoria, Canada Palgrave Macmillan is delighted to announce the launch of a new book series on the European Union. Following on the sustained success of the acclaimed European Union Series, which essentially publishes research-based textbooks, Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics will publish research-driven monographs. The remit of the series is broadly defined, both in terms of subject and academic discipline. All topics of significance concerning the nature and operation of the European Union potentially fall within the scope of the series. The series is multidisciplinary to reflect the growing importance of the EU as a political and social phenomenon. We will welcome submissions from the areas of political studies, international relations, political economy, public and social policy and sociology Titles include: Nicola Casarini and Costanza Musu (editors) EUROPEAN FOREIGN POLICY IN AN EVOLVING INTERNATIONAL SYSTEM The Road Towards Convergence Ian Bache and Andrew Jordan (editors) THE EUROPEANIZATION OF BRITISH POLITICS Derek Beach and Colette Mazzucelli (editors) LEADERSHIP IN THE BIG BANGS OF EUROPEAN INTEGRATION Morten Egeberg (editor) MULTILEVEL UNION ADMINISTRATION The Transformation of Executive Politics in Europe Isabelle Garzon REFORMING THE COMMON AGRICULTURAL POLICY History of a Paradigm Change Heather Grabbe THE EU’S TRANSFORMATIVE POWER Katie Verlin Laatikainen and Karen E. Smith (editors) THE EUROPEAN UNION AND THE UNITED NATIONS Hartmut Mayer and Henri Vogt (editors) A RESPONSIBLE EUROPE? Ethical Foundations of EU External Affairs

Lauren M. McLaren IDENTITY, INTERESTS AND ATTITUDES TO EUROPEAN INTEGRATION Justus Schönlau DRAFTING THE EU CHARTER Rights, Legitimacy and Process

Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics Series Standing Order ISBN 1–4039–9511–7 (hardback) and ISBN 1–4039–9512–5 (paperback) You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with your name and address, the title of the series and one of the ISBNs quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England

European Foreign Policy in an Evolving International System The Road Towards Convergence Edited by

Nicola Casarini Jean Monnet Fellow Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies European University Institute, Italy

and

Costanza Musu Assistant Professor of Public and International Affairs University of Ottawa, Canada

Editorial matter, selection and introduction © Nicola Casarini and Costanza Musu 2007 All remaining chapters © respective authors 2007 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2007 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan
is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 9781403996077 hardback ISBN-10: 1403996075 hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 08 07 Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents

vii

Illustrations

viii

Acknowledgements

ix

Notes on Contributors Abbreviations and Acronyms

xiii

Introduction Costanza Musu and Nicola Casarini

xvi

Part I

The EU in the International System

1 ‘European’ Foreign Policy: A Realistic Aspiration, or an Unattainable Goal? William Wallace 2 Europe’s Grand Strategy: The Search for a Postmodern Realism Pascal Vennesson 3 EU Co-ordination in International Organizations: The Case of the United Nations General Assembly and the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva Part II

3

12

27

The EU and the Great Powers

4 European Positions and American Responses: ESDP–NATO Compatibility Bastian Giegerich

43

5 Engaging China – Uniting Europe? EU Foreign Policy towards China May-Britt Stumbaum

57

6 EU Relations with Russia: Partnership or Asymmetric Interdependency? James Hughes

76

v

vi

Contents

Part III

The EU and the Management of Conflicts

7

European Union Foreign Policy towards the Balkans Eva Gross

8

The EU and the Arab–Israeli Peace Process Costanza Musu

9

Congruence without Strategy: Explaining EU Policies towards the Cyprus Conflict Nathalie Tocci

128

The European Union and the Western Sahara Conflict: Managing the Colonial Heritage Jordi Vaquer i Fanés

144

10

97 112

Part IV The EU’s Regional Policies 11

‘Conditionality-lite’: The European Neighbourhood Policy and the EU’s Eastern Neighbours Gwendolyn Sasse

163

12

The EU and the Baltic Sea Area Nicola Catellani

181

13

The EU and Euro-Mediterranean Security: A New Departure? Sven Biscop

195

14

The Making of the EU’s Strategy Towards Asia Nicola Casarini

209

Conclusions Spyros Economides

226

Bibliography

232

Index

248

Illustrations

Tables 3.1 3.2 6.1 6.2

Distance from the EU majority, all votes Distance from the EU majority: different issue areas in 2002 Structure of EU–Russia trade 2000–4. EU exports (%) to Russia Structure of EU–Russia trade 2000–4. EU exports (%) from Russia 10.1 Votes in the UN General Assembly resolutions about Western Sahara, 1984–88 14.1 The global economy in 2006 and beyond

31 33 86 86 154 215

Figures 3.1 Percentage of recorded votes in the UN General Assembly with consensus among EU member states 14.1 The world economy at the time of the first ASEM in 1996

vii

30 214

Acknowledgements

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. John Donne (Meditation XVII) It is only when you reach the end and look back that you realize how many people have supported your project. We have enormous gratitude for the continuing support and encouragement given by William Wallace, who has provided constructive comments and critical observations, and has helped to keep the entire project in perspective as well as focused on the goal. Two research workshops held at the London School of Economics provided a stimulating intellectual environment in which to present the initial ideas of this book. In this context we thank Christopher Hill for his kind support and insightful suggestions during the early stages of this project. This book would never have been possible without the enthusiasm and commitment of the contributors. We would like to take the opportunity to thank them all warmly for their excellent scholarly work, but also for their understanding of the strict deadlines that such an edited volume entails. What started as professional collaboration turned into rewarding and longlasting friendships. Our editors at Palgrave Macmillan, Alison Howson and Amy LankesterOwen, offered their expert guidance and timely advice, helping us through the production process and making this a precious learning experience: for this we are very grateful. Finally, we would like to thank our families and friends for their support throughout this undertaking. After many sleepless nights, endless editorial debates and lengthy discussions on the concept of ‘convergence’, they are probably as happy as we are to see the results of this work. NICOLA CASARINI COSTANZA MUSU

viii

Notes on Contributors

Editors Nicola Casarini is Jean Monnet Fellow at the Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies, European University Institute (Florence). He obtained his PhD from the London School of Economics where he also teaches courses on international relations and international political economy. He has been Junior Researcher at the Istituto per gli Studi di Politica Internazionale (ISPI) in Milan and visiting fellow at the European Union Institute for Security Studies (EUISS) in Paris. His research interests focus on EU–Asia and EU–China relations and on transatlantic issues. Among his recent publications are The Evolution of EU–China Relations: From Constructive Engagement to Strategic Partnership. Costanza Musu is Assistant Professor of Public and International Affairs at the University of Ottawa, Canada. She obtained her PhD from the London School of Economics and has been a Jean Monnet Fellow at the Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies, European University Institute (Florence). She has been a consultant for the Military Center for Strategic Studies – Center for Advanced Defense Studies (CeMiSS–CASD), the think tank of the Italian Ministry of Defence. Her publications include ‘The Madrid Quartet. An Effective Instrument of Multilateralism?’, in R. Nathanson and S. Stetter (eds) The Monitor of the EU–Israel Action Plan, and (with William Wallace) ‘The Focus of Discord? The Middle East in US Strategy and European Aspirations’, in John Peterson and Mark A. Pollack Europe, America, Bush: Transatlantic Relations After 2000.

Contributors Sven Biscop is a Senior Research Fellow in Egmont – the Royal Institute for International Relations in Brussels and Professor of European Security at Ghent University. With the Belgian Royal Defence College he co-organizes the Higher Studies in Security and Defence, and he represents Egmont in the Executive Academic Board of the EU’s European Security and Defence College (ESDC). He has lectured world-wide and he is editor-in-chief of Egmont’s journal Studia Diplomatica. His recent research and publications have focused inter alia on the European Security Strategy, on which in 2005 he published The European Security Strategy: A Global Agenda for Positive Power. ix

x Notes on Contributors

Nicola Catellani is Research Fellow at the Institute for Central Eastern, and Balkan Europe, Bologna University. In 2004 he completed his PhD in International Relations at the London School of Economics and Political Science. He has been visiting research fellow at COPRI, the Swedish Institute for International Affairs, the Center for European Integration Studies (ZEI) in Bonn and the Department of Political Science at Carleton University (Canada). His research and publications focus on the European Union’s common foreign and security policy, with particular attention to the Northern Dimension and the relations between the EU and its neighbours. Spyros Economides is Senior Lecturer in the European Institute at the London School of Economics and Deputy Director of its Hellenic Observatory. He has been a Research Associate at the International Institute for Strategic Studies in London and acted as Specialist Adviser to (and drafted) the House of Lords EU Committee in its report, ‘Responding to the Balkan Challenge: The Role of EU Aid’. His publications include UN Interventionism: 1991–2004 (edited with Mats Berdal), and The Economic Factor in International Relations (with Peter Wilson). He is currently writing on the EU’s Balkan experience since 1991. Bastian Giegerich is a Research Associate at the International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) in London and Director for Security and Defence at the Düsseldorfer Institut für Au
en- und Sicherheitspolitik (DIAS), Düsseldorf, Germany. He was educated at the University of Potsdam, Germany, the University of Maryland, USA, and the London School of Economics. Giegerich is the author of European Security and Strategic Culture and has published widely on European and transatlantic security issues in such journals as International Politics, Security Dialogue, and Survival. Eva Gross is Senior Research Fellow at the Institute for European Studies, Vrije Universiteit Brussel. She holds a PhD from the London School of Economics and Political Science. She was visiting fellow at the Centre d’Études et de Recherches Internationales (CERI) in 2005 and the Center for European Policy Studies (CEPS) in 2006. Her dissertation research was funded by the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) and the VolkswagenStiftung, Germany as part of the ‘European Foreign and Security Policy Studies Program’. Research interests include the Europeanization of national foreign policy, CFPS/ESDP and European crisis management policies. James Hughes is Reader in Comparative Politics at the London School of Economics. He has written widely on Russian and post-communist politics, and on the politics of EU enlargement. His most recent book is Chechnya: From Nationalism to Jihad.

Notes on Contributors

xi

Paul Luif has a doctorate in law and is Dozent in political science. He was assistant professor for international relations at Salzburg University, 1974– 1980 and has been a member of the scientific staff of the Austrian Institute for International Affairs in Vienna since 1980. He is also lecturer at the University of Vienna. His main topics of research are the European Union (in particular the Common Foreign and Security Policy as well as Justice and Home Affairs) and the foreign policies of small states. Among his publications are On the Road to Brussels: The Political Dimension of Austria’s, Finland’s and Sweden’s Accession to the European Union and ‘EU cohesion in the UN General Assembly’ (EUISS). Mariyana Radeva is currently an Associate Project Officer at the International Centre for Migration Policy Development in Vienna, where she is part of the anti-trafficking team and focuses on projects in south-eastern Europe. She obtained a Master’s in European Studies from the Center for European Integration (ZEI) in Bonn, Germany, and holds a Bachelor’s degree from Tufts University, USA and a post-graduate diploma from the Diplomatic Academy Vienna. Gwendolyn Sasse is Reader in Comparative Politics, Nuffield College, University of Oxford. Previously she was Senior Lecturer in Comparative European Politics in the European Institute and the Department of Government at the London School of Economics. Her research interests include post-communist transitions, ethnic conflict, minority rights, migration, EU enlargement, the European Neighbourhood Policy, and Ukrainian politics. Among her publications are ‘A Research Agenda for the Study of Migrants and Minorities in Europe’, Journal of Common Market Studies (with Eiko Thielemann); ‘Securitization or Securing Rights? Exploring the Conceptual Foundations of Policies towards Minorities and Migrants in Europe’, Journal of Common Market Studies; Europeanization and Regionalization in the EU’s Enlargement to Central and Eastern Europe: The Myth of Conditionality (co-authored with James Hughes and Claire Gordon). May-Britt Stumbaum is a Resident Fellow at the German Council on Foreign Relations (DGAP) where she focuses on European Foreign and Security Policy with a particular focus on the relations with China. She has been Visiting Fellow at the Silk Road Studies Programme, Uppsala, Sweden, the European Institute for Asian Studies and the European Policy Centre in Brussels, Belgium. She covers the German site of Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessments of the Jane’s Information Group. From 2002 to 2006 she was Head of the DGAP’s Forum European Foreign and Security Policy. She has published mainly on ESDP and EU–China relations. May-Britt Stumbaum is president of Women in International Security Deutschland.

xii Notes on Contributors

Nathalie Tocci is a Senior Fellow at the Istituto Affari Internazionali, Rome, and an associate fellow at the Centre for European Policy Studies, Brussels. Her research interests include European foreign policy, conflict resolution, the Middle East and the Mediterranean. Her major publications include The EU and Conflict Resolution: Promoting Peace in the Backyard; EU Accession Dynamics and Conflict Resolution: Catalyzing Peace or Consolidating Partition in Cyprus?; Towards Accession Negotiations: Turkey’s Domestic and Foreign Policy Challenges Ahead (with A. Evin) and Europeanization and Conflict Resolution: Case Studies from the Divided Periphery (with B. Coppieters et al.). Jordi Vaquer i Fanés obtained his PhD in International Relations from the London School of Economics. He taught at the LSE and at the Open University of Catalonia and he has published several book chapters and articles in international journals such as Mediterranean Politics and the European Foreign Affairs Review. He worked at the Secretariat for International Relations of the Government of Catalonia for eight years. He is currently the co-ordinator of the Europe programme at CIDOB Foundation (Barcelona). Pascal Vennesson is Professor of Political Science, chair Security in Europe, European University Institute–Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies. He is the author and editor of several books on defence policy and military strategy and recently published Dictionnaire des Relations internationales (with Marie-Claude Smouts and Dario Battistella), and ‘European Worldviews: Ideas and the European Union in World Politics’ (RSCAS). William Wallace is Professor Emeritus of International Relations at the London School of Economics and a member of the House of Lords. He has been Director of Studies at the Royal Institute of International Affairs 1978–1990, and then Walter Hallstein Senior Research Fellow at St Anthony’s College, Oxford until 1995. He has published widely on American Foreign Policy, European Integration, European International Politics, Transatlantic Relations. His publications include The Transformation of Western Europe, ‘Europe: The Necessary Partner’, Foreign Affairs, and edited with Helen Wallace, Policy-Making in the European Union, now in its 5th edition.

Abbreviations and Acronyms

ABM AC AEPS AFSOUTH ALTHEA AMM AP APEC ARF ASEAN ASEM BEAC BSRI CAEC CARDS CBC CBSS CEC CEEC CEFTA CFE CFSP CIS CJTF CNPC CODUN CONUN CONUP COREU CSCAP CSCE CSP DG DPA DRC EAEC

Anti-Ballistic Missile Arctic Council Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy Allied Forces Southern Europe EU Military Operation in Bosnia and Herzegovina Aceh Monitoring Mission Action Plan Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation ASEAN Regional Forum Association of South East Asian Nations Asia–Europe Meeting Barents Euro-Arctic Council Baltic Sea Region Initiative Council for Asia–Europe Co-operation Community Assistance for Reconstruction, Development and Stabilization Cross-Border Co-operation Council of the Baltic Sea States Commission of the European Communities Central and Eastern European Countries Central European Free Trade Agreement Conventional Forces in Europe Common Foreign and Security Policy Commonwealth of Independent States Combined Joint Task Forces Chinese National People’s Congress Council working group on global disarmament and arms control Council working group on the UN Council working group on non-proliferation Correspondant Européen Council for Security Co-operation in Asia Pacific Conference for Security and Co-operation in Europe Country Strategy Paper Directorate-General Dayton Peace Accord Democratic Republic of Congo East Asian Economic Caucus xiii

xiv Abbreviations

EAEG EAS EC ECHO ECJ EEA EEC EFP EFSP EIDHR EMP EMU ENP ENPI EPC ESDI ESDP ESS EU EUFOR EUPM EUROMARFOR EuroMeSCo FDI FEER FPDA FRY FSU FYROM GAERC GAM GDP GNP GPG ICCPR IFOR IMF IPTF KEDO KLA MINURSO MONUC NAC

East Asian Economic Grouping External Action Service European Community European Community Humanitarian Aid Office European Court of Justice European Economic Area European Economic Community European Foreign Policy European Foreign and Security Policy EU Human Rights and Democracy Programme Euro-Mediterranean Partnership European Monetary Union European Neighbourhood Policy European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument European Political Cooperation European Security and Defence Identity European Security and Defence Policy European Security Strategy European Union European Union Force in Bosnia and Herzegovina EU Police Mission European Maritime Force Euro-Mediterranean Study Commission Foreign Direct Investment Far Eastern Economic Review Five-Power Defence Arrangements Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Former Soviet Union Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia General Affairs and External Relations Council Free Aceh Movement Gross Domestic Product Gross National Product Global Public Goods International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights Implementation Force in Bosnia and Herzegovina International Monetary Fund International Police Task Force Korean Energy Development Organization Kosovo Liberation Army United Nations Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara United Nations Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo North Atlantic Council

Abbreviations

NAFTA NAS NATO ND NGO NIP NLA NRF OSCE PASOK PC PCA PHARE PfP POLISARIO PPP PRC PSC QMV RRF RoC SAA SAP SACEUR SCO SFOR SHAPE TACIS TEU TREATI UK UN UNGA UNIFIL UNPREDEP UNPROFOR US WEU WMD WTO

xv

North America Free Trade Area New Asia Strategy North Atlantic Treaty Organization Northern Dimension Non-Governmental Organization National Indicative Programmes Albanian National Liberation Army NATO Response Force Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe Panhellenic Socialist Movement Permanent Council (of the OSCE) Partnership and Co-operation Agreement Poland and Hungary: Assistance for Restructuring Economies Partnership for Peace Frente Popular de Liberación de Saguía el Hamra y Río de Oro Purchasing Power Parity People’s Republic of China Political and Security Committee Qualified Majority Voting Rapid Reaction Force Republic of Cyprus Stabilization and Association Agreement Stabilization and Association Process Supreme Allied Commander Europe Shanghai Co-operation Organization Stabilization Force in Bosnia and Herzegovina Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe Technical Aid to the Commonwealth of Independent States Treaty on European Union Trans Regional EU–ASEAN Trade Initiative United Kingdom United Nations United Nations General Assembly United Nations Interposition Force in Lebanon United Nations Preventive Deployment Force United Nations Protection Force United States (of America) Western European Union Weapons of Mass Destruction World Trade Organization

Introduction Costanza Musu and Nicola Casarini

We argue about fish, about potatoes, about milk, on the periphery. But what is Europe really for? Because the countries of Europe, none of them anything but second-rate powers by themselves, can, if they get together, be a power in the world, an economic power, a power in foreign policy, a power in defence equal to either of the other superpowers. We are in the position of the Greek city states: they fought one another and they fell victim to Alexander the Great and then to the Romans. Europe united could still, by not haggling about the size of lorries but by having a single foreign policy, a single defence policy and a single economic policy, be equal to the great superpowers. (Harold Macmillan, former British Conservative Prime Minister, The Listener, London, 8 February, 1979) Member States shall ensure, through the convergence of their actions, that the Union is able to assert its interests and values on the international scene. (Art.I-40.5 of the proposed European Constitution) Much has been written and said about the process of political integration that has taken place among the member states of the European Union (EU) in the course of the last few decades, and particularly in the last 15 years. Undeniably this process has experienced – since its first timid inception in the 1970s with the introduction of European Political Co-operation (EPC) – a strong qualitative leap that has led Europe to add a defence dimension to its Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) and to set itself the headline goal of forming a Rapid Reaction Force, that is, a transnational military force managed by the European Union and utilized to carry out peace-keeping and humanitarian tasks. But there are two sides to the story: one is that told by the creation of an ever closer Union, of the progressive, incremental construction of the edifice of the CFSP, of the stratification of the instruments at its disposal, of the overcoming of old taboos with the introduction of the military dimension. The other, however, draws a different picture: that of the persistence of the primacy of national foreign policies, of the difficulty for member states to overcome differences and harmonize interests, of their continuous struggle to keep foreign policy at a European level within the limits of national control. xvi

Introduction

xvii

Scholars have often struggled with the issue of EU as an international actor (Rosecrance 1997, Bretherton and Vogler 1999); linking the construction of a European foreign policy mechanism with the formation of a European identity (Whitman 1998); analysing its functioning and the causes of what has been referred to as its ‘paralysis’ (Zielonka 1998a); examining its capabilities in relation to the expectations of external interlocutors (Hill 1993); and the effects of institutional constraints on EU policies (Rummel and Wiedemann 1998, White 2001, Smith M.E. 2004). The difficulty of analysing European foreign policy (EFP) is in fact already evident in the definition of the object of study itself. What, after all, is the European Union? Over the years, the criteria adopted for conceptualizing the nature of the European Union and the existence (and effectiveness) of a European foreign policy have differed profoundly. William Wallace has defined Europe as a ‘partial polity’, that is, a political entity which however lacks many of the features that we might expect to find within a fully developed democratic political system (Wallace 1990). Simon Hix has argued that the EU is ‘a political system but not a state’, since it does not have a monopoly on the legitimate use of coercion, and it is therefore not a ‘state’ in the traditional Weberian meaning of the world (Hix 1999). On the other hand, there is no doubt that the EU is an economic superpower with significant influence in international relations: according to Christopher Hill and Michael Smith, the EU ‘poses major challenges by virtue of its status as something more than an intergovernmental organisation but less than a fully-fledged European “state” ’ (Hill and Smith 2005: 4). It is therefore clear that European foreign policy cannot easily be contained within a traditional state-centred analysis with relatively clear boundaries between internal and external policy environments. According to Brian White, EFP must be the object and the subject of analysis in a way that is qualitatively different from the analysis of national foreign policies (White 2001). Roy Ginsberg has defined it as the activity that ‘refers to the universe of concrete civilian actions, policies, positions, relations, commitments and choices of the EU in international politics’ (Ginsberg 2001: 3). In sum, EFP is a complex and unique policy domain both in terms of context and types of activity, as it emerges from this unique type of international actor discussed earlier – ‘a partial polity’. An analysis of EFP must therefore include what Christopher Hill has called ‘the sum of what the EU and its member states do in international relations’ (Hill 1998). While this volume is largely empirical in its approach, the concepts illustrated above both inform and constitute the basis of this study. The present book intends to contribute to our understanding of European foreign policy by analysing the ability of Europe to formulate and implement a common external posture towards different issues/areas. In particular, the chapters focus on the problematic dynamics between the member states’ foreign

xviii

Introduction

policies and the elaboration of a common European stance, and on whether this process has brought about a convergence of national policies capable of producing a truly collective policy, expression of the emergence of a unitary European political strategy and of shared norms and notions of European interests (Wong 2005). This volume aims to provide the reader with a comprehensive and updated array of case studies of EFP in crucial areas and regions of the world, some of which have often been neglected. Our intention is to offer a comprehensive assessment of how the Union has projected its power and influence abroad in the last years and, at the same time, to analyse two opposite trends that are clearly identifiable in the process of European political integration: a) the convergence of the member states’ policies and b) the concurrent persistence of profound differences between national interests. While the cases selected address highly diverse experiences of European foreign policy, all the contributors have been asked to follow a common analytical framework that focuses on identifying recurrent patterns of behaviour in order to assess the level of policy convergence achieved by EU member states. By analysing the dynamics of the relations between national policies and policy at the EU level, the contributors attempt to ascertain whether the driving force behind the formulation of a distinct European foreign policy is more congruence, defined as the compatibility of the policy actors’ preferences as a basis for establishing a shared policy regime (H. Wallace 2000), or a real convergence capable of producing a collective policy. In sum, the overall objective is to establish what has encouraged convergence among member states’ policies and on which issues/areas a collective policy has been achieved, and what – on the other hand – has kept national policies separate and clearly distinct from one another. The importance of the notion of convergence has recently been acknowledged by the drafters of the European Constitution, as the quotation at the beginning of this book demonstrates. The Constitution in fact – whose ratification at the time of writing seems quite unlikely – stresses the need to encourage ‘convergence of actions’ as a way to enable the EU ‘to assert its interests and values on the international scene’. Unlike what has happened in the economic sphere, however, in the intergovernmental framework within which the EU elaborates its Common Foreign and Security Policy, EU member states have hitherto displayed little desire to set out binding foreign policy convergence criteria that might limit their freedom of action, and time and again decisions have been reached through compromises between national foreign policies. In other words, it could be argued, CFSP has often really been another name for what is frequently referred to as the ‘minimum common denominator’ between the different preferences of the member states, something very different from the ‘single foreign policy’ mentioned by Harold Macmillan in the first quotation, which – according to the former Conservative British Prime Minister – could make Europe ‘equal to the great superpowers’.

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We have to acknowledge, however, that in the sphere of foreign policy, co-ordination – albeit in an informal, incremental and not codified fashion – does take place (Carlsnaes et al. 2004; Wallace 2005; Hill and Smith 2005). Thus, the main question that this book poses is whether collective action has been triggered by true convergence or by congruence. Accordingly, each chapter discusses whether it is possible to identify a common ‘European approach’ on a certain issue/area of the world, that is, an approach which in appearance if not in substance is different from that of other international actors, and to what extent behind the façade of a common approach there lies the enduring reality of distinctly different national perspectives, conflicting priorities and diverse and sometimes diverging interests. As Helen Wallace has pointed out, ‘different policy actors may have different preferences, but none the less choose the same collective action. Congruent preferences imply conditional commitments to collective regimes. Convergence of preferences may produce longer term stability of policy regimes’. (H. Wallace 2000: 58; emphasis added). This collection of essays endeavours to identify the cases in which real convergence has been achieved, and those in which a collective action has been undertaken exclusively on the basis of different but congruent preferences.

The structure of the volume The book is divided into four parts. The first, ‘The EU in the International System’, analyses the issue of the emergence of the EU as a global actor as well as the characteristics – and limits – of Europe’s international role. In Chapter 1 William Wallace provides the reader with an evaluation of the past 35 years of European foreign policy. He underlines how in many ways the foreign policy structures through which the European Union coordinates national foreign policies today have not changed in character since these first hesitant meetings of 35 years ago. Governments remain the key players, with consensus – rather than majority voting – as the basis for common policy. In Wallace’s view it is a real achievement that the EU has created a network, which now provides the foundation for a (limited) number of common external policies. The weight of authority on foreign policy, however, remains at the national level, within 27 diverse member states. The governments of these member states have repeatedly declared their aspirations to achieve a common foreign policy; but they have not yet educated their parliaments or publics of the shifts in resources or assumptions necessary before such a goal can be attained. Following on Wallace’s analysis, the contribution by Pascal Vennesson (Chapter 2) focuses on the interpretation of the making and content of Europe’s grand strategy. His aim is to provide the reader with a better sense of Europe’s international role, its characteristics and its limits. Vennesson asks how European policy-makers define European interests in the world; what

xx Introduction

threats they perceive to those interests; what they want Europe to accomplish in the light of those interests and threats; and how they justify their objectives and responses. Vennesson’s intention is to shed light on the reasons for Europe’s international efforts, particularly their security dimensions, by focusing on European policy-makers’ beliefs and preferences regarding an ‘activist’ foreign policy and a greater involvement of Europe in world affairs. With regard to the latter, Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva in Chapter 3 analyse Europe’s engagement with international organizations. In particular, they look at EU co-ordination in international organizations, examining how member states have co-ordinated their voting behaviour in the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) and in the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE). Co-ordination among EU member states in the United Nations and in the OSCE has accompanied the EU foreign policy co-operation from its initial stages in the 1970s. However, as Luif and Radeva’s contribution shows, the co-ordination process among the EU member states is very cumbersome and time-consuming and it sometimes seems that finding a consensus is more important than proactively influencing international organizations. Part II addresses the issue of the ‘EU and the Great Powers’. This examines the Union’s relations with the United States (US), the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and the Russian Federation. The three contributors highlight how the Union is, indeed, a great power in economic terms, but it still lacks the capacity to translate this economic clout into political influence, given the resistance of EU member states – in particular the Big Three (Germany, France and the United Kingdom) – to relinquish control over national foreign and security policy. The chapter by Bastian Giegerich (Chapter 4) examines the current state of the transatlantic relationship. In particular, he focuses on the capacity of the EU to emerge as an autonomous partner of the US in security and defence matters. Giegerich underlines how the development of an autonomous European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) has provoked discussions and divisions both in Brussels among the EU member states, and in Washington. By examining the divide between Atlanticists and Europeanists among the 27, Giegerich provides the reader with a comprehensive assessment of the different views regarding the desired role of the US in European security and the relationship between NATO and ESDP. The chapter tackles a crucial question for the future of transatlantic relations by exploring the issue of how autonomous Europe should be from the US in the field of European security. Moving eastwards, the contribution by May-Britt Stumbaum (Chapter 5) examines Europe’s engagement with a rising strategic power: the People’s Republic of China. After an analysis of the EU’s policy towards China, Stumbaum argues that instead of striving for an overarching European approach and thus strengthening Europe’s negotiating power vis-à-vis

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China, EU member states, and in particular Germany, Britain and France (the member states that have been most influential in shaping the EU’s China policy) rather use the European Union as an additional tool to further their national interests, at the expense of a coherent – and common – European approach. The EU is thus used not only to create favourable framework conditions for (bilateral) trade, but also to deal with issues (such as democratization and human rights) that the Union’s member states – in particular, the Big Three – are less interested in tackling directly in order to maintain a climate of sympathetic co-operation with Beijing. Following up on the above, Chapter 6 by James Hughes examines the EU’s policy towards Russia. Relations with Moscow remain crucial for the EU, given both Russia’s geographical proximity – even more so after the 2004 enlargement – and its key position in providing Europe with muchneeded energy resources. By analysing EU–Russia relations since the collapse of communism, Hughes tests the extent of convergence achieved by EU member states in their policy on Russia. He argues that the underlying issue dimensions of the EU–Russia relationship have been consistent from 1991. It is a relationship that is shaped on both sides by calculated utility and norms, by logics of consequences and appropriateness. He argues that the EU–Russia relationship is heavily loaded with pragmatic calculations about the costs and benefits of an interdependency of trade that trumps concerns over other more value-based issues, such as democratization and human rights (especially for the EU as regards the conflict in Chechnya). Hughes concludes that EU policy convergence, consistency even, on relations with Russia has been weak for two main reasons: first, convergence has been hindered by poor co-ordinating technique on the part of the EU; and secondly there has been a preference for bilateralism rather than multilateralism by the key member states. In the third part of the volume, ‘The EU and the Management of Conflicts’, the contributors examine the effectiveness – and the limitations – of the EU’s policies towards conflicts in areas of particular relevance for the Union: the Balkans, the Middle East, Cyprus, and Western Sahara. Given their geographical proximity, most of these conflicts have the potential to significantly affect the economic and security environment of EU member states, and are a dramatic test of Europe’s ability to manage instability and failed states. The conflicts analysed in this book offer the possibility to assess EU conflict management policies under very different circumstances, and to investigate the dilemma of the harmonization of the different member states’ policies and interests, the continuation of separate national debates in parallel with convergent Common Declarations, as well as the problem of the self-contained structure of CFSP, its mechanisms and its institutional and political limitations. In Chapter 7 Eva Gross examines the crucial issue of EU policy towards the Balkans. As Gross argues, after the initial failure to develop a coherent policy to

xxii Introduction

deal with instability and war in the former Yugoslavia, the EU has finally put in place a comprehensive approach towards the region. This approach is characterized by two aspects: first, the EU’s efforts at political mediation and stabilization are embedded in a broader strategy of economic assistance and integration with the prospect of eventual EU membership. Secondly, the Stability Pact and the Stability and Association Process for South Eastern Europe focus on long-term conflict prevention and represent a comprehensive approach linking political and economic policies that are in line with the EU’s policy priorities and capabilities. Policy instruments used in the Western Balkans span across pillars and involve CFSP, as well as Community instruments, and reflect the increasing complexity of EU foreign policy in the region. According to Gross, however, significant problems remain and the EU now faces the challenges of living up to expectations created by the integration perspective, of co-ordinating the different and partially overlapping policies and instruments into a coherent and effective whole in order to address these regional challenges, and of turning its policies of stabilization and integration into a truly ‘common’ and effective foreign policy. Again moving eastwards, Chapter 8 by Costanza Musu analyses EU policy towards the Arab–Israeli peace process, an issue that has been among the most strongly debated by member states and the subject of innumerable joint declarations and joint actions on the part of the EC/EU, remaining always a high priority in the European foreign policy agenda. As Musu underlines, the EU member states are directly and indirectly implicated in the process because of their geographic proximity, dependence on Middle Eastern oil, and security needs, as well as because of the historical role played by several of them in the region. Musu argues that it is ultimately possible to identify a ‘European approach’, broadly speaking, to the Arab–Israeli conflict. This approach is based on some basic principles that are shared by almost all member states and which is, in appearance if not in substance, different from that of the United States. However, in many respects national approaches to the issue remain different, as do priorities and sometimes interests. Member states often turn to the EU and encourage the elaboration of common European policies prompted by totally different reasons and agendas. The combination of centripetal and centrifugal forces – compatible national interests and convergent shared interests vs. strong and diverging national interests – on the one hand generates growing pressure for the development of an effective European common policy towards the Middle East which would allow the EU to take on an active role in the protection of its interests and an adequate say in the peace process. On the other hand, however, it wields a restraining effect on the full development of this policy, pushing it towards the notorious target of a minimal common denominator, which has haunted EU foreign policy for over 30 years. After the Arab–Israeli question, Nathalie Tocci in Chapter 9 explores the issue of the Cyprus conflict. Tocci argues that the case of Cyprus casts a

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different light on the problems involved in mobilizing the EU’s multi-level framework of governance in the field of external relations, particularly in situations of active or latent crisis, typical of ethno-political conflicts. The EU collectively was not a mediator in Cyprus, nor were the member states or the Commission in close contact with United Nations mediators. Although the EU collectively did not (and perhaps could not) mediate in Cyprus, EU actors agreed in assuming that the accession process created the scope for the effective use of leverage and conditionality towards the principal parties involved in the conflict. However, the difficulties of the EU to act as a coherent, let alone single, actor in the field of foreign policy raises the critical question of whether the Union had the capability of mediating in the conflict. Tocci’s analysis of the EU’s Cyprus policy shows how the European Union framework could have added important incentives for a settlement and resolution of the conflict by providing an alternative context within which to address the basic needs of the principal parties, but failed because of the lack of internal coherence. Finally in the last chapter of Part III, Jordi Vaquer I Fanés (Chapter 10) examines the EU’s policy towards the Western Sahara conflict. The accession of Spain – the colonial power responsible for the administration of the Western Sahara – to the EC in 1986 brought the issue of the Western Sahara conflict into the agenda of the Twelve. Since then a common EC/EU position has emerged based on the support for UN efforts, the provision of humanitarian aid to the Western Saharan refugees and the ‘neutrality’ in the dispute. Common declarations – even within the frame of the UN – have substituted the open divergences that characterized European positions on the conflict in the late 1970s and early 1980s. However, Vaquer I Fanes argues, the lack of a common understanding of the conflict and the existence of opposed interest among EU member states have prevented the emergence of a common policy, and the EU – despite having important strategic, political and economic interests in the region – has been relatively inactive in the search for a settlement. Part IV explores ‘The EU’s Regional Policies’. The chapters here assess and analyse the capacity of the EU to project its power and influence towards regions and areas of the world of major strategic interest for the Union: Central and Eastern Europe; the Mediterranean; the Baltic Sea Area; and Asia. Beginning with Europe’s ‘neighbours’, Gwendolyn Sasse (Chapter 11) examines the European Neighbourhood Policy. She points out that the ENP has been an attempt to formulate a coherent EU-wide approach to the Union’s neighbouring countries. The ENP expresses three related concerns of the member states and the EU as a whole: a concern for political stability on the EU’s borders, the wish to counter perceived or real negative implications of the recent round of eastward enlargement for the ‘outsiders’ to the East, and an attempt to define the endpoint of enlargement by devising an alternative to membership. Already in the early stages of policy formulation, the focus of ENP was widened rather than deepened to include ‘the

xxiv Introduction

ring of friendly countries’ around the EU. As a policy package ENP is still in the making, and its future seems uncertain. At the same time, ENP tries to emphasize the congruence of member states’ interests but cannot conceal the diverging national priorities associated with the countries and issues subsumed under ENP. As such, the policy reality of ENP directly reflects the shortcomings of CFSP; i.e., a consensus-driven foreign policy that is likely to fail in the implementation of its own objectives, which tend to be very general and hard to operationalize. Heading north, the contribution by Nicola Catellani (Chapter 12) deals with the development of the external policy of the EU towards the Baltic Sea area in the period between the two enlargement ‘waves’ of 1995 and 2004. Catellani argues that there has been an evident overlap between the foreign policy interests of Sweden and Finland, the Nordic countries that joined the EU in 1995, and the collective interests reflected in the two main policy initiatives launched by the EU, the Baltic Sea Region Initiative in 1996 and the EU’s Northern Dimension in 1998. Both initiatives aimed at complementing the bilateral relations with the neighbours through the creation of an extra regional channel of dialogue and co-operation based on an inclusive approach vis-à-vis Russia and an important role attached to the regional organizations operating in the area. In particular, as the case of the Northern Dimension shows, the EU foreign policy-making process towards the Baltic Sea region has been characterized by a ‘convergence’ of interests of a small group of member states around which a substantial ‘congruence’ has been achieved with the other actors involved in the foreign policy-making process. Moving southwards, Sven Biscop (Chapter 13) examines the EuroMediterranean Partnership in the context of the European Security Strategy. After outlining the fundamental characteristics of ESS, the chapter assesses its implementation in the Mediterranean, and looks at the prospects for the future of Euro-Mediterranean relations. The main argument put forward by Biscop is that the concept of comprehensive security as elaborated and tested in the context of the EMP helped to gradually forge a common European view that, after the shock of the Iraq crisis, ultimately led to the adoption of a general European strategy, representing a high degree of convergence between the member states on the basic underpinnings of foreign policy, including visà-vis the Mediterranean. The difficulty, however, lies in implementing this comprehensive approach, which demands a degree of co-ordination and integration of all dimensions of external action within member states and within the European institutions that has not yet been achieved. Finally, Nicola Casarini in Chapter 14 analyses the making of the EU’s strategy towards Asia by focusing on the EU’s New Asia Strategy and the Asia–Europe Meeting, the two main initiatives through which the EU and its member states have engaged Asian countries since the early 1990s. He finds that there has been a convergence of EU members’ policies towards Asia, which has produced a common Asia strategy, in particular on matters

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of competence of Pillar I (i.e. trade and aid). However, with regards to CFSP matters, the picture is more nuanced. On multilateral issues, such as the EU’s participation in Asian security consultation mechanisms, or Europe’s involvement in peace-keeping and peace-building operations in East Timor and Aceh, there has been a congruence of interests that has allowed EU members to formulate and adopt a common approach. In other cases, EU members have tended to pursue independent – and sometimes profoundly different – strategies. The case of the EU’s China policy, in particular the arms embargo issue and arms sales to China, well illustrates this point. The large EU members (Germany, France, the United Kingdom and Italy) have tended to pursue their national interests, preferring to cash in on the lucrative Chinese defence market instead of working for a EU common approach towards China and, more generally, Asia.

The road towards convergence? The conclusions reached by the contributors in their chapters are quite mixed in their evaluation of the ability of the EU to produce an effective and coherent collective foreign policy: an apparent convergence of policies often hides a reality of different – if congruent – interests. The EU member states do recognize that their interests can often be better protected through a common European action that is able to project into the international arena the combined weight of the 27 members of the Union. However, they are reluctant to relinquish control over their foreign policy and continue to utilize the CFSP framework to advance interests defined in terms of national interests rather than collective interests. This inability to translate the economic weight of the EU-27 into political clout remains the biggest obstacle to the capacity of the EU to emerge as a great superpower. In his concluding remarks Spyros Economides brings together the guiding threads of the book. He argues that while the cumulative experience of the last 35 years has had a significant impact on the ability of the EU to develop a foreign policy, the biggest learning curve has occurred in the period since 1990. He lists a few reasons for this. First and foremost the EU experience in Yugoslavia’s wars and subsequently the Western Balkans, which has pointed out all the political and institutional weaknesses of the EU in the area of foreign policy. Secondly, there is the fluctuating transatlantic relationship characterized, in the post-Cold War period, by growing divergences in transatlantic interests. Thirdly, the changing international system post-1990 has also brought to the fore a series of other challenges for the EU, which the latter has met with differing degrees of success. Some of these are ‘neighbourhood issues’, others are more distant. Economides concludes by raising some crucial questions as to whether the concepts of convergence and congruence will dominate the future debate on European foreign policy and supersede the existing divide between collective/shared policy and the individual interests of sovereign member states.

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Part I The EU in the International System

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1 ‘European’ Foreign Policy: A Realistic Aspiration, or an Unattainable Goal? William Wallace

States have foreign policies. International organizations struggle to define and maintain common positions, with member governments suspicious either that their secretariats will gain too much autonomy in implementing common decisions, or that the most powerful member state or group of states will succeed in converting the organization into a vehicle for their hegemonic objectives. The European Union operates, often uneasily, between these two ideal types: not a state, lacking many of the attributes that statehood provides as a basis for national foreign policies, but with notably more authority to operate collectively in the world system than any international organization, including a wider degree of autonomy for its collective services, the European Commission, the Council Secretariat, and its various ‘High’ and ‘Special’ Representatives. In the 35 years since the first meeting in 1970 of the ‘Conference of foreign ministers in the framework of European Political Cooperation’, the intensity of co-operation on foreign policy among member governments of the European Union has grown exponentially. There was, from the outset, a deep ambivalence among five of the six member governments about this French initiative. The Fouchet Plan, launched by President de Gaulle in 1960, had been a direct challenge to American leadership of the Atlantic Alliance; its failure had been followed by the Gaullist attempt to co-opt Federal Germany in support of French ambitions, through the 1963 Elysée Treaty, and then by French withdrawal from the integrated structures of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. All other member governments of the six-member European Communities remained within NATO, consulting on foreign policy issues with the United States through NATO’s Political Committee. The Hague Declaration of December 1969, which registered the agreement of the six heads of state and government to launch European Political Cooperation (EPC), spoke of paving the way for ‘a united Europe capable of 3

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assuming its responsibilities in the world of tomorrow and making a contribution commensurate with its tradition and its mission’, but instructed the six ministers of foreign affairs only ‘to study the best way of achieving progress in the matter of political unification’. The foreign ministers’ report, nine months later, ‘felt that efforts ought first to concentrate specifically on co-ordination of foreign policies in order to show the world that Europe has a political mission’. This modest and hesitant agreement to co-operate ‘to ensure, through regular exchanges of information and consultations a better mutual understanding on the great international problems’ indicates the degree of scepticism in several national capitals, both about French motives and about how limited ‘the harmonization of their views, the co-ordination of their positions, and, where it appears possible or desirable, common actions’ might prove. The agenda for the first foreign ministers’ conference contained three main items: transatlantic relations, the Middle East, and how to respond to the Soviet proposal for a conference on European security. Given sharp divergences on relations with the US, and the sensitivity of Middle East policies in transatlantic relations, it proved possible to make progress only on the third of these (Wallace and Allen 1977).

1. How much progress has been made? In many ways the foreign policy structures through which the European Union co-ordinates national foreign policies today have not changed in character since these first hesitant meetings of 35 years ago. Governments remain the key players, with consensus – rather than majority voting, now the formal decision rule on most issues within the ‘first pillar’ European Community – as the basis for common policy. Working groups of officials prepare ministerial meetings, and follow up their conclusions. Co-ordination of ‘second pillar’ foreign policy with ‘first pillar’ external relations remains imperfect, within national administrations as well as in Brussels and in the distinctive roles and competences of Commission Representations and national embassies in third countries. Co-ordination with ‘third pillar’ policies, on immigration control and anti-terrorism, is also poor. Procedures are slow, responses to crisis often inadequate. Implementation is the responsibility of each national government, as are the costs of actions taken. On the other hand, the structure has developed far beyond the expectations of the six foreign ministers who met together in 1970. The handful of initial working groups has expanded to cover almost every region and issue with which national foreign ministries are actively engaged. Foreign ministries themselves are in close and constant contact – through secure communications far more sophisticated than the telex network initiated in 1972–73, to replace the intermediary role that embassies had previously played in communications among European governments. The Political and Security Committee, in Brussels, set up under the Amsterdam Treaty of 1997,

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has partly displaced the role that diplomats travelling out from national capitals played with a collective body of senior officials resident in Brussels, interacting with the Council Secretariat and the Commission. The Council Presidency rotates in embassies within third countries as well within the EU, with regular meetings of staff, occasional joint representations to host governments, and some joint reporting. The EU operates as a caucus within wider international organizations, as Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva describe in Chapter 3. There is a small, but expanding, common CFSP budget. A significant proportion of the Council Secretariat works on foreign policy issues, under a Secretary-General designated the ‘High Representative for Common Foreign and Security Policy’. Even further from the cautious expectations of 1969–70 have been recent developments in defence co-operation within the EU framework. Since the divergence between the United Kingdom and France over the relationship between the EU and NATO was reconciled – at least in part – by the St Malo Declaration of November 1998, a Military Committee has been established, supported by a Military Staff within the Council Secretariat. Slowly and hesitantly, a modest capacity for common military operations is being built, learning from the bitter experiences of earlier failure in Bosnia, and of failure to act in Rwanda-Burundi. In the summer of 2004 an EU-flagged force, predominantly French in composition, deployed in Eastern Congo within days of a request from the UN Secretary-General. In Bosnia itself, a European military command (EUFOR) took over from NATO the same year, working in parallel with an EU police contingent and the EU’s powerful special representative. National and multi-national ‘battle groups’, 1500–2000 strong, were taking shape across the EU, their operational readiness rotating among different contingents: ready for rapid deployment in response to external crisis – provided the national governments from which they were drawn would provide rapid consent. No other group of states has dreamed of achieving any comparable degree of shared structures and capabilities for common foreign policy. Yet the limitations to current structures remain painfully apparent. Co-ordination across the three pillars is poor, as several of the following chapters illustrate. There has been deep suspicion within the Commission’s External Relations Directorate-General about the growth of the Council Secretariat, as representing an intergovernmental challenge to the Commission’s supranational ambitions in foreign policy. The Commission’s extensive network of missions in third countries parallels, and to some extent duplicates, the activities of national embassies, to the continuing confusion of third governments; the subtleties of Community competence alongside sovereign national policies are, after all, hard to explain. European Community and national programmes in third countries operate in parallel, often only loosely co-ordinated, promoting democracy, human rights, judicial or educational reform, technical or economic development.

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The provisions of the Constitutional Treaty to establish a ‘European Foreign Minister’ and an ‘External Action Service’ (EAS) offered institutional answers to sensitive, and unresolved, political questions. Ratification would have been followed by battles for precedence between national foreign ministers, jealous of their turn in the presidency limelight, and the new EU foreign minister, as well as between the Commission, the Council Secretariat and national foreign services over the role and staffing of the new EAS. Repeated enlargement has further complicated the pursuit of common, or at least convergent, policies. The six West European governments who launched the EEC and the procedures of European Political Co-operation could, in principle, claim to share core international priorities – although the French government was far more sensitive about sovereignty than its partners, the German government more preoccupied with Central and Eastern Europe, the Dutch more Atlantic-oriented, and the French and Italians concerned about the international politics of the Mediterranean. The 25 member states of 2004–5, with two-three more due to join before the end of the decade, had far more diverse interests and assumptions. The EU from 2004 had more member states round the Baltic than facing the Mediterranean – with the prospect after the anticipated accession of Romania and Bulgaria in 2007–8 of also facing the Black Sea. Spanish fishing interests around the coast of Africa cut across French and British interests in the political and economic development of Africa’s coastal states. Distinctive immigrant communities, and distinctive continuing flows of legal and illegal immigrants, make for greater or lesser attention to Latin America, North Africa, Southern Asia and South-East Asia in national capitals. Historical legacies, of former empire or (in the case of German policy towards the Middle East conflict) of former wrongs, shape national perceptions. The arrival of eight new member states from the former Soviet ‘Bloc’, close and wary neighbours of post-Soviet Russia, has cut across German and French assumptions about partnership with Russia – as James Hughes notes in Chapter 6. That member governments nevertheless manage to vote together most of the time within wider international organizations, that they succeed in acting together on a number of international issues and openly disagree with each other on only a few, begins in these circumstances to look like a significant achievement.

2. By what standard should we assess what has been achieved? By comparison with an established major state, the modest achievements of European efforts to define and implement common foreign policies look pitiful. The EU collectively punches below its weight in the international system. Its member governments as a group provide nearly 40 per cent of the UN’s budget, nearly 70 per cent (as Chapter 3 notes) of the budget of the

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OSCE: yet the United States and Russia play more decisive roles within both organizations. Member governments of the EU constitute the overwhelming majority of NATO members; yet, as Bastian Giegerich notes in Chapter 4, the United States sets the strategic direction of the alliance, and Turkey – and, indirectly, non-member Cyprus – contribute disproportionately to poor institutional relations between NATO and the EU. Only within the World Trade Organization (WTO) does the EU operate as a coherent and key player, because of the clear allocation of competences over trade policy to the Commission. Even in this field continuing disputes over decisions in areas of ‘mixed competence’, such as trade in services, environmental and labour-related aspects of trade, make the collective European Union an unwieldy and often inflexible actor. The transformation of the EU’s immediate neighbourhood over the past 30 years, through a strategy of conditional enlargement, has similarly demonstrated both its particular strengths and their limited reach. The attempt to extend conditional diplomacy to Europe’s wider neighbourhood, without the incentive of promised membership at the end of the process of adaptation, has proved far more difficult to implement, as Gwen Sasse argues in Chapter 11. Should our standard for comparison, however, be that of a state’s marshalling of its combined resources for foreign policy – or rather, since many smaller states do not attempt to pursue active foreign policies, should our standard of comparison be with the United States and with other historical great powers? It is easy to criticize the many failings of European foreign policies; but comparison with the indirection of Russian foreign policy over the past 15 years, or the self-centred economic focus of Chinese foreign policy, suggests that its shortcomings have not been unique. The European Union has not learned to behave like a traditional great power. Its member governments have not reached a collective understanding of their preferred global order or of Europe’s appropriate role within it. Its spending on ‘hard’ military power is small – but we should bear in mind that it is not directly threatened, and that the mobilization of substantial expeditionary forces for deployment to other continents would require a shared sense of mission and responsibility that neither EU governments (with the possible exception of the British and French) nor their national publics have learned to imagine. Its collective investments in ‘soft power’ – economic, technical and educational assistance to third countries, support for international institutions, contributions to peace-keeping, national-building and the promotion of stable governance – are high, if blunted in their impact by the looseness with which they are co-ordinated. Comparison with any other collective state entity suggests, however, that this collective European enterprise has developed ways of working together far beyond those of other groups of states. ASEAN, the Association of South-East Asian Nations, operates as a useful caucus on a very limited number of issues. It has the collective attraction to mount occasional heads of government meetings with the EU, and to form the basis for

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The EU in the International System

wider regional co-operation (through ‘ASEAN + 3’) with China, Japan and South Korea. But its main achievement has been to limit the influence of outside powers in South-East Asia, rather than to increase the influence of its member states beyond that region. The African Union and the Shanghai Co-operation Organization (SCO) are too new to assess their effectiveness; the Arab League is in disarray. Viewed as a collective enterprise among 25 previously sovereign states, cautiously pooling part of their sovereignty to achieve limited common aims, the EU has real but modest achievement to its credit – the more significant if the observer concedes that some member states (Germany, Italy) began with an aversion to power politics and active diplomacy, from their historical legacies of two generations ago, and that many small member states had only modest and local ambitions in foreign policy. A collective foreign policy is, as Dr Samuel Johnson said in another context, ‘like a dog’s walking on its hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all’. American dismissal of Europe’s collective weakness partly rests on an assumption that hard power is the only power that counts: that a focus on ‘soft’ power is unmanly, preferring the persuasive charms of Venus to the strong arm of Mars. But it is also based on a dismissal of the United States’ own limited foreign policy capabilities for much of the first hundred years of federation. American calls, after the Second World War, for a ‘United States of Europe’ envisaged the emergence of a federation comparable to what the US had by then become, capable of sharing the burden of Atlantic partnership and world leadership that the US had reluctantly shouldered after 1945 (Cleveland 1966; Grosser 1978). Yet until the Civil War the US controlled only a tiny army and a limited navy, relying primarily on the British to provide the global order from which Americans benefited. American leaders, from George Washington onwards, warned against an over-ambitious foreign policy, as a potential threat to the delicate balance of the federation; the fear persisted, as late as President Eisenhower’s farewell speech, that the growth of strong international capabilities and the ‘military-industrial complex’ to support them would subvert the decentralized democracy of the American federation. Suspicion of Washington remains a powerful undercurrent in contemporary American politics, despite the strong perception of a shared external threat and the appeals to national unity in the face of that perceived threat. European publics did not perceive a shared external threat throughout the 1990s. Anxieties over immigration, in particular about Europe’s Muslim minorities and about Europe’s intricate links with the Muslim world, had not converged into any comparable narrative of European solidarity in the face of a common enemy within the first five years after September 2001. There were terrorist attacks, in Madrid and London; but there had been terrorist attacks, from a variety of internal and external sources, before. Suspicions of Brussels, of the perceived remoteness and non-democratic character of Europe’s common institutions, remained strong across the EU, even

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within its founding member states. Officials and diplomats, military officers and intelligence services, therefore operated together within tight limits of popular understanding or support, reporting to national governments that attempted, uncertainly, to mediate between the two levels.

3. What are the limits to convergence? European integration was designed to be an elite process, in which enlightened elites upgraded the common interest on behalf of publics who granted, in return, their passive consent (Haas 1958; Lindberg 1963). European Political Co-operation was designed, in turn, as an intergovernmental process, without the mediating role of the Commission to lead national officials to understand how best their interests might be shared. On French insistence, it was also designed so as to exclude a supervisory role for the infant European Parliament; nor were any mechanisms developed to report progress regularly to national parliaments or to meetings of representatives from national parliaments. This was a confidential process, among officials responsible to foreign ministers and heads of government; these in turn would tell their press and parliaments as much, or as little, as they thought wise about what had been agreed. The chapters that follow illustrate the limits of this elite convergence. Officials in Brussels lack the authority to present the case for common action, except in those limited fields for which Community competence is clear. Multiple voices lay claim to some authority in setting priorities: the President of the Commission, the various Commissioners responsible for different aspects of external relations, enlargement, association and development policies, the ‘High Representative for CFSP’ and his ‘special representatives’ for specific issues, the President of the Council of Ministers – now often physically represented by the presidential ‘troika’ of previous and current ministers and the next in line – and varying groups of ministers of the larger member states. The officials who make this complex system operate have the skills to negotiate its different dimensions; but few outsiders, within member states or in third countries, can avoid confusion. An unavoidably opaque structure for making and implementing policy obstructs wider understanding. More than this, there is no common discourse, no shared elite debate across national boundaries on foreign policy or on wider issues of European responsibilities in global politics. Each national debate draws primarily on national traditions, historical myths and cultural assumptions. Distinctive national media interpret international news through the perspective of familiar points of reference: one country’s Catholic heritage, another’s memories of past threats from Turkey, or from Russia. Different languages act as barriers to common discourse: the intellectual audience that Die Zeit commands in Germany overlaps only marginally with those who read

10 The EU in the International System

Le Monde Diplomatique. Different colonial links, and different minority communities, make Portuguese journalists and politicians more sensitive to East Timor, British more sensitive to Sierra Leone and Cyprus, Dutch to Surinam, Italians to Somalia, French to Algeria and Cote d’Ivoire. National ministers contribute to the shaping of common foreign policy against the background of the domestic audiences to whom they are politically responsible. Long-serving ministers become socialized into working with their colleagues on shared international interests; but their careers depend on them remaining attuned to domestic preoccupations. Pascal Vennesson, in Chapter 2, traces the emergence of a loosely-defined liberal approach to international order, and its articulation in the European Council’s 2003 ‘strategy’ document: A Secure Europe in a Better World. Agreement on a common statement of principles for foreign and security policy, 35 years after the launching of European Political Co-operation and over 45 years after the launch of the EEC’s external relations and development policies, was a useful advance. It was drafted within the Council Secretariat, under the direction of Javier Solana as High Representative for CFSP, as much for an American as a European audience, in the wake of the bitter disagreements over intervention in Iraq. Between the publication of its first draft, in June 2003, and adoption of a revised draft by the European Council the following December, it attracted little comment from Europe’s media, and no serious enquiry from any national parliament. Three consultative sessions were held, in policy institutes in Paris, Stockholm and Rome, engaging almost 200 foreign policy professionals from think tanks, planning staffs and universities: the tiny elite of multilingual ‘professional Europeans’ who follow the evolution of common policies. The final document, as Vennesson notes, expresses a consensual understanding of European governments’ preferred structures for international order – although the accompanying stress on European obligations in maintaining and strengthening international order had been watered down since the first draft. But no member government promoted a national debate on the implications of what had been agreed, or encouraged its parliament to address the issues raised. Community regulations, European Parliament debates, the interventions of Commissioners and the responses of Councils of Ministers provide visibility for the operations of the European Community within national politics. Much common foreign policy, however, operates beyond the echoes of these sounding boards. The hard-won success of EU policy towards the Western Balkans, which Eva Gross traces in Chapter 7, has attracted much less public attention than the crises and policy failures of earlier years. The successful despatch of a European battle group to the Eastern Congo, in the summer of 2004, in response to an appeal from the UN Secretary-General, received only passing coverage in the European press – except in France, which provided the largest number of troops to the force sent. The evolution of European Security and Defence Policy since 1998 has seemed almost to be a secret

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shared among participating defence ministries, hesitant to admit to their parliaments the implications of the commitments they had agreed. Even the number of forces deployed by different member governments outside the EU, on European, UN and NATO missions, is a matter which outside researchers may dig out with difficulty, rather than a shared public statement of how EU member governments contribute to global stability (Giegerich and Wallace 2004). National foreign policies rest on shared assumptions, common myths and memories, strong institutions and – in most cases – strong leadership. European foreign policy can rely only on weaker institutions and leadership, looser assumptions, and diverse myths and memories. The intensity of interaction that has developed over the past 20–30 years, gradually extended from trade and development to diplomacy, intelligence, threat assessment and military deployment, has built a convergence of working practices – and often of working assumptions – among the officials involved. Small communities of outsiders, in Europe’s foreign policy think tanks, university international relations departments, even to a limited extent within the EU scrutiny committees and foreign affairs committees of member state parliaments, follow developments at European level, downloading documents from the Council Secretariat’s website and reading specialized reports on the Internet. It is a real achievement that the EU has created this elite network, which now provides the foundation for a limited number of common external policies. As the rest of this book explains, however, the weight of authority on foreign policy remains at the national level, within 25 diverse member states. The governments of these member states have repeatedly declared their aspirations to achieve a common foreign policy; but they have not yet educated their parliaments or publics of the shifts in resources or assumptions necessary before such a goal can be attained.

2 Europe’s Grand Strategy: The Search for a Postmodern Realism Pascal Vennesson1

Introduction: can the EU think and act strategically? In international relations what does the European Union want? To answer this question, and get a better sense of Europe’s international role, its characteristics and its limits, I seek to interpret the making and the content of Europe’s grand strategy: A Secure Europe in a Better World: Europe’s Security Strategy adopted in December 2003 (European Council 2003). A grand strategy is a polity’s conception of its security goals and of the ways it plans to insure its security. How do European policy-makers define European interests in the world? What threats do they perceive to those interests? What do they want Europe to accomplish in the light of those interests and threats? How do they justify their objectives and their responses? My intention is to shed light on the reasons why Europe’s policy-makers formulated this grand strategy the way they did by focusing on their beliefs and their preferences regarding Europe’s involvement in world affairs. This is significant for both theoretical and empirical reasons. From a theoretical standpoint, while grand strategies are important policy documents and the formalization of a grand strategy is an intriguing political move, analysts often take official documents formulating grand strategies either too seriously, or not seriously enough. This paradoxical record reflects the relative lack of analytical frameworks for the systematic study of grand strategies. Furthermore, Europe’s grand strategy is a blind spot for both some structural realists – but not necessarily for structural realism as a theory – and for approaches more attuned to the EU’s specific characteristics. They both dismiss Europe’s policy-makers’ attempt to define a security strategy, albeit for different reasons. On the one hand, some structural realists argue, Europe is not a nation-state yet, and therefore cannot have a grand strategy worthy of the name. Writing one – when fundamental preconditions, notably a genuinely common decision-making process, are not met – is bound to remain a futile exercise. On the other hand, some Europeanists claim, Europe is not, does not pretend to be, and perhaps 12

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should not be, a supranational state having a conventional foreign policy. Since it is a new form of polity, old-fashioned realist notions and standards commonly used to evaluate foreign policies do not apply, and should not be applied. Hence, the classical notion of grand strategy is inadequate in making sense of Europe’s international role. I argue that both views are wrong and provide an alternative framework on which to analyse Europe’s grand strategy. A Secure Europe in a Better World adopted at the December 2003 European Council meeting in Brussels is empirically significant as well. Since the beginning of the 1990s the European Council produced external relations documents labelled ‘strategy’ usually limited to a country or a region. Yet this is the first time in the history of Western Europe’s integration that the High Representative – in the name of the European Union – and member states’ leaders, have defined and approved a grand strategy. The goal of A Secure Europe is to define a grand strategy for the European Union and to shape the grand strategies of its member states. It seeks to identify European interests and intentions and to relate ends and means. The importance of Europe’s grand strategy goes beyond academic and policy circles. During the Iraqi crisis of 2002–3, more than 20 million Europeans demonstrated against the war. Major European intellectuals, such as Jürgen Habermas and Jacques Derrida, claimed that Europe should have its own foreign policy (Habermas and Derrida 2003: 44–6). Since the mid-1990s annual Eurobarometer polls show that the European public strongly supports the European security and defence policy (between 70 and 75 per cent) and the Common Foreign and Security Policy (between 63 and 67 per cent). In June 2003, 70 per cent of Europeans thought that the EU ‘should become a superpower like the United States’ (Eichenberg 2003: 627–59; Eurobarometer 2004: 22–5; Reynié, 2004: 105–8). The Dutch and French ‘no’ to the referendums on the European constitution in 2005 showed, however, the persistence of deep disagreements, even if Europe’s international role had not been the most salient issue during the referendum campaigns. A better understanding of Europe’s grand strategy is therefore significant both internally and externally. First, I define grand strategy and explain how and why the notion is useful in making sense of the EU’s international role. Then I outline the main characteristics of European leaders’ combination of constructivist and liberal ideas and assumptions about Europe’s world interests and its security strategy: globalization, the building of a wider security community based on the democratic peace, and the effort to erode sovereignty and promote institutions to foster European security. Finally, I offer a critical discussion of European policy-makers’ postmodern realism: their attempt to define how the Euro-security community might survive in the international jungle.

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1. Europe’s grand strategy: mission impossible? 1.1 What is grand strategy, and why does it matter? Grand strategy is a crucial but contested notion (Gaddis 1982; Kennedy 1991; Rosecrance and Stein 1993). I define grand strategy as a polity’s conception of its security goals and of the ways it plans to insure its security (for different definitions see Beaufre 1963; Posen 1984: 13; Kennedy 1991). When it is formally specified a grand strategy defines, in broad terms, priorities and criteria for policy choices regarding security so that ends and means can be balanced (May 1962). It clarifies what the main international problems of the polity are, what ought to be done about them and how. It defines the rules of conduct that decision-makers should observe as well. Grand strategies include a justification of the polity’s approach to international affairs and of the ways it is supposed to work, it identifies threats and responses to them, and establishes priorities. Decision-makers and analysts disagree over the impact of grand strategic principles and assumptions on foreign policy choices. On the one hand, some doubt that strategy, least of all ‘grand’ strategy, is possible or even desirable (Jervis 1998; Betts 2000). On the other, however, other analysts and some decision-makers differ: they believe that grand strategy is a fundamental element of foreign policy. In what follows I suggest a way to conceptualize grand strategies and make sense of their own intrinsic importance without overestimating their influence. 1.2 Grand strategy and foreign policy preference formation To analyse the ability of the Euro-polity to survive in an anarchic environment, why should we care about its grand strategy? I argue that grand strategies, and the making of grand strategies, are important because they are an exercise in foreign policy preference formation (my argument is adapted from Wildavsky’s theory of policy analysis: Wildavsky 1973, 1979, 1987). Foreign policy preferences are identified, formalized and revised through the formulation of grand strategies. The formation of these preferences comes from the continuing confrontation between objectives and resources, which is at the heart of the formulation of a grand strategy. Formulating a grand strategy is an attempt to close the gap between what policy-makers wish to do and what they can do. Important for any international actor, this process of preference formation is particularly complex and sensitive for the EU, since it has to accommodate a greater number of actors with conflicting preferences. The EU’s international presence and its roles have been a resultant, the cumulative consequences of many disparate initiatives in various areas, some by member states, others by the commission. Making the EU’s international role into a matter of self-conscious choice is a major undertaking. Grand strategies in general, and Europe’s grand strategy specifically, has four aspects: the search for problems that can be solved, the manipulation of constraints, the self-conscious rationalization of past

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actions, and the establishment, and/or adaptation, of an institutional identity in a context of intense bureaucratic politics. First, a grand strategy is not about listing objectives, usually multiple, conflicting and vague, but about finding and defining problems for which a polity has the solution (Wildavsky 1979: 215). International problems – defined as a relation between resources and objectives – are man-made, they are identified and shaped by the actors. Finding relevant problems that can be solved by using factors under policy-makers’ control is a key element of the making of grand strategies. Second, a grand strategy is an attempt to manipulate constraints. If everything is perceived as possible, a grand strategy is not really needed since it seeks precisely to balance ends and means. Constraints are not only obstacles but opportunities that stimulate the policy creativity and leads to the conceptualization of new problems (Wildavsky 1979: 56–60). For example, with A Secure Europe in a Better World, the EU tries to exploit its comparative advantages in pursuit of status and international identity. Since its portfolio of capabilities is weak in some classes of power assets, EU policy-makers try to enhance the premium on other kinds of assets. Third, a grand strategy retrospectively gives meaning to action (Wildavsky 1979: 135–9). The choice of objectives is not only done before, but after the action as well. Policy-makers use selectively past events and past actions to give meaning to the past, in order to pursue future objectives. To increase the coherence of past actions is to give meaning to the past to contribute to future objectives and needs. For example, before the adoption of Europe’s Security Strategy in 2003, the EU already was an international actor, had acted in various domains and had expressed a set of values and perceptions of international relations. Yet the document is significant because: ‘By attributing new motivational meaning to what we have done, we try to learn what we ought to be doing’ (Wildavsky 1979: 136). Fourth, grand strategies have an important institutional dimension linked to bureaucratic politics (Selznick 1949: 47–82). This is particularly true for the EU, a complex international actor caught in the pulling and hauling of many different forces. European bureaucratic politics, specifically the changing role of the EU High Representative as an institution and the inter-institutional rivalries between the Commission and the Council, as well as between member states, played a role in the formulation of Europe’s grand strategy (Buchet de Neuilly 2002: 13–31; Merritt 2004: 6).

2. Making the world safe for the Euro-security community: A liberal-constructivist worldview In June 2003 at the European summit of Thessaloniki Javier Solana, the European Union High Representative for the Common Foreign and Security Policy, made public the first draft of A Secure Europe in a Better World. Between June and December 2003 the so-called Solana paper went through

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a process of discussion and revision, including three workshops: in Rome (19 September), Paris (6–7 October) and Stockholm (20 October) under the co-ordination of the EU Institute for Security Studies, and was adopted in December 2003. A Secure Europe in a Better World is organized in three sections. The first identifies the security environment of the European Union and key threats; the second defines the strategic objectives of the EU (countering new threats, extending the zone of security around Europe, and strengthening the international order); the third lays out the policy implications of these objectives. While many European official documents are scorned for their length and technocratic obscurity, this one is comparatively short, clearly written and to the point. The European Security Strategy combines a broad set of liberal internationalist and constructivists assumptions about international relations, about European interests in the world, and about potential threats and responses. This blend of liberal and constructivist ideas leads to a coherent and original conception rooted in the European project. This worldview stems from the issues that European decision-makers usually tackle, as well as the policy methods and choices they commonly use within Europe. Since the EU construction and its enlargement are largely about governance, norms and institutional issues, the EU’s decision-makers are inclined to use this as a framework and apply it to a different subset of issues and conflicts, namely disputes over values, territory, status and influence. These liberal and constructivist assumptions not only reflect the EU’s decision-makers’ selfperceptions, they are likely to shape their subsequent perceptions of international security and their responses to challenges and threats. Constructivist and liberal international theories are multifaceted, and the transition from assumptions and preferences to specific foreign policy decisions is not direct. It depends on interaction with foreign actors and domestic negotiations. However, constructivist and liberal approaches of international relations are a relatively well-identified body of ideas and practices that constitute a broadly coherent set of ideas and policies (on liberal internationalism see Zacher and Matthew 1995: 107–50, Moravcsik 1997: 513–53, Doyle 1997: 205–311; on constructivism see Wendt 1999). These ideas are close to those of the founders of the EU, and of the theoreticians of functionalism and neo-functionalism. Whatever else one might think, policy-makers in Europe do not see constructivism and neo-liberal institutionalism as competing paradigms (Sterling-Folker 2000). 2.1 Globalization, domino dynamics and Europe’s vulnerability Globalization is European policy-makers’ mental image of today’s world. Europe’s security policy is designed to deal with a globalized international system, which they perceive as a mixed blessing. On the one hand, globalization brings positive consequences, such as freedom and prosperity (p. 2). On the other hand, however, many problems remain unresolved and

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some have gotten worse. ‘A number of countries and regions are caught in a cycle of conflict, insecurity and poverty’ (p. 2). Globalization leads to a fragile international system, often instable and disrupted. A strategic belief in domino dynamics is embedded in Europe’s grand strategy (on domino dynamics beliefs see Jervis and Snyder 1991). Unfavourable developments anywhere can cascade rapidly and have an impact on European interests. As a consequence, how far does the European sphere of interest and responsibility have to extend in order to ensure Europe’s security? The European grand strategy answers that even distant regional conflicts, such as in Kashmir, the Great Lakes Region or the Korean Peninsula ‘impact on European interests directly and indirectly’ (p. 4), like crisis taking place closer geographically to the EU (notably in the Middle East). Such conflicts ‘destroy human lives and social and physical infrastructures; they threaten minorities, fundamental freedoms and human rights’ (p. 4). For its energy supply, particularly oil and gas, Europe is dependent from the Gulf, Russia and North Africa (p. 3). Terrorists and criminals operate worldwide, and ‘their activities in central or southeast Asia may be a threat to European countries or their citizens’ (p. 6). Furthermore, with globalization, come global security issues like global warming that aggravate competition for natural resources, particularly water. These dynamics ‘create further turbulence and migratory movements in various regions’ (p. 3). Finally, globalization is not just about material changes and concrete security issues. The public’s security perceptions matter more than before, and these perceptions will weigh on strategic calculations. ‘Global communication increases awareness in Europe of regional conflicts or humanitarian tragedies anywhere in the world’ (p. 6–7). In a globalizing international system distance is no longer a decisive characteristic of international relations, nor an exclusive criterion in evaluating threats. Threats might appear distant, but ‘in an era of globalization, distant threats may be as much a concern as those that are near at hand’ (p. 6). The threat of invasion is an outdated expression of Cold War thinking. ‘With the new threats the first line of defence will often be abroad’ (p. 7). However, when clarifying Europe’s objectives, A Secure Europe notes that ‘even in an era of globalization, geography is still important’ (p. 7). European countries’ immediate neighbourhood remains a priority. In Europe’s grand strategy, geographically, both the immediate and the wider security environment are important. Globalization is not the only security environment for Europe. The European Security Strategy acknowledges today’s unipolar international system, but with an important caveat: if the United States is in a dominant position ‘as a military actor’, ‘no single country is able to tackle today’s complex problems entirely on its own’ (p. 1). In short, European policy-makers’ security perceptions and grand strategy stem from globalization, a powerful, seemingly unstoppable, historical trend. Globalization enlarges the scope of action of the EU for two reasons. First,

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since distance does not help to identify priorities among interests and threats, virtually anything that happens internationally can become crucial. Second, commitments appear to be more and more interdependent. Inaction in one area could mean a loss of credibility elsewhere. Domino dynamics are an important element of the European worldview. As a consequence, A Secure Europe is based on an activist conception of security. The need for action, specifically for early and preventive action, is frequently repeated. European leaders believe that ‘The European Union has been active in tackling key threats’ (p. 6), like terrorism and nuclear proliferation. The potential dangers of international security do not stem from action, but from inaction or late action. Only energetic action can efficiently confront various threats and dangers. ‘Left alone, terrorist networks will become ever more dangerous’ (p. 7). Inaction will lead to disastrous consequences and therefore ‘conflict prevention and threat prevention cannot start too early’ (p. 7). European policy-makers think that the future will depend ‘partly on [(their)] action’ (p. 6). In a pointed reference to the US pre-emptive action – including, but not limited to, the use of military force – the March 2003 draft version argued that: ‘Pre-emptive engagement can avoid more serious problems in the future’ (p. 10). While this would not have made pre-emption a policy, in the final version, European leaders reformulated this claim and deleted the reference to pre-emption: ‘We need to be able to act before countries around us deteriorate, when signs of proliferation are detected, and before humanitarian emergencies arise. Preventive engagement can avoid more serious problems in the future’ (p. 11). 2.2 Exporting the Euro-security community? The European grand strategy is grounded in a combination of security community beliefs and democratic peace perspective (Deutsch et al. 1957; Russett et al. 1993; Ray 1995; Adler and Barnett 1998; Weart 1998; Lipson 2003). Thus, A Secure Europe relies on an important assumption of constructivism and liberal international theory regarding co-operation and security, which is embedded in the internal politics of the EU. The European Security Strategy explains that ‘the quality of international society depends on the quality of the governments that are its foundation’ (p. 10). ‘Good governance’ is a key factor because it is supposed to reduce the costs and risks likely to impair international agreements, and put security in jeopardy. Specifically, fighting corruption, eliminating abuse of power, establishing the rule of law, and protecting human rights favour stability, transparency, and ease co-operation. On the other hand, violent domestic conflict, weak states influenced by organized crime, ‘dysfunctional’ societies and exploding population growth ‘all pose problems for Europe’ (p. 7). Promoting good governance is in Europe’s interest because it will allow Europe to ‘enjoy close and co-operative relations’ with those countries (p. 7). Once changed domestic political systems have been put into practice, the international

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system will be seen as ‘offering justice and opportunity for everyone’ and therefore it will be ‘more secure for the European Union and its citizens’ (p. 10). In short, the root causes of security and insecurity are domestic. This constructivist-liberal view, while relying on globalization, is also a ‘second image’ perspective (Waltz 1959: 80–123): thanks to globalization factors located at the state and society level cascade, reverberate and affect European security. European policy-makers argue that the European Union should build security in its neighbourhood by promoting good governance. The EU should ‘promote a ring of well governed countries to the East of the European Union and on the borders of the Mediterranean with whom we can enjoy close and co-operative relations’ (p. 8). Stability, good governance and integration into Europe are all used in the Balkans to build and extend security. Trade and development policies are important tools to promote reform (p. 10). ‘Contributing to better governance through assistance programmes, conditionality and targeted trade measures remains an important feature of our policy that we should further reinforce’ (p. 10). A Secure Europe claims that the European zone of peace, the methods and framework of Europe’s security community, should be extended, or at least provide some meaningful co-operation in different areas, economics, security and culture. This promotion of good governance includes the resolution of the Arab–Israeli conflict, ‘a strategic priority for Europe’ (p. 8). The EU involvement in the Mediterranean through the Barcelona process should be enlarged in a ‘broader engagement with the Arab World’ (p. 8). In short, for the leaders of the EU, ‘the best protection for our security is a world of well-governed democratic states’ (p. 10). 2.3 Eroding sovereignty and promoting institutions To achieve its long-term objectives, EU policy-makers seek to change the rules of the game in various international issue areas. The Euro-security community would like to be surrounded by other security communities regrouped in region, promoting different forms of supranational authority (Rabkin 2000). European leaders perceive a multilateral system of interlocking and expanding institutions and a rule-based international order as desirable, and as favouring security. They value a multi-level institutional framework that erodes sovereignty, in order to regulate and to stabilize international relations. It shapes the transatlantic relationship with NATO, it structures many regions, like Europe with the OSCE and the Council of Europe, Asia, Latin America, and Africa under the broader United Nations umbrella. ‘Strengthening the United Nations, equipping it to fulfil its responsibilities and to act effectively, is a European priority’ (p. 9). Europe’s grand strategy emphasizes that, as an institution, the European Union has been ‘central’ in the creation of a zone of prosperity, peace and stability on the continent. Although not using the expression, A Secure Europe

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makes the case that the European Union is a regional security community (Deutsch et al 1957; Adler and Barnett 1998). Members of this security community solve peacefully their conflict of interest and they co-operate through common institutions (p. 1). Furthermore, the institutionalized European security community had an important socializing effect: authoritarian regimes became ‘secure, stable and dynamic democracies’ (p. 1). A Secure Europe also admits that the United States ‘has played a critical role’ in this evolution. The EU has an interest in the development of existing institutions, such as the World Trade Organization, and in supporting new institutions like the international criminal court (p. 10). Europeans consider that the record of institutions regarding conflict prevention has been satisfactory. ‘Our own experience in Europe demonstrates that security can be increased through confidence building and arms control regimes. Such instruments can also make an important contribution to security and stability in our neighbourhood and beyond’ (p. 10). Institutions are effective to deal with proliferation. For example, ‘The international treaty regimes and export control arrangements have slowed the spread of WMD and delivery systems’ (p. 3). International law is influential as well (on the legal approaches to international relations see Jones 1989; Boyle 1999). European policy-makers ‘are committed to upholding and developing International Law’ (p. 9). They acknowledge that to make international organizations, regimes and treaties effective in confronting threats to international peace and security, Europe should be ‘ready to act when their rules are broken’ (p. 9). Those countries who stay outside of the ‘good governance’ area, and outside of the institutionalized zone because they seek isolation or because they violate international norms (of domestic governance or international behaviour) ‘should rejoin the international community’ (p. 10) with the assistance of the EU, or pay the price. This primer on multilateral cooperation in international organizations is strongly emphasized in the effort to face new challenges and threats. Overall, for European policy-makers international relations already are, and should be even more, institutionalized. Relations, negotiations, engagements should be continuous not episodic. A change in the ways international actors reach goals should be sufficient to produce mutual benefit and therefore promote security (Jervis 1999: 50–1). When Europe’s grand strategy mentions specific measures implemented by the EU to tackle the threats of terrorism, proliferation and failing states/organized crime, they all fit in the institutional and the security community types of action. For example, regarding the 11 September, 2001 terrorist attacks, A Secure Europe mentions the creation of a European Arrest Warrant, measures to attack terrorist financing, and an agreement with the US on mutual legal assistance (p. 6). Counter-terrorism is considered as primarily a law enforcement, judicial, intelligence, diplomatic and financial activity. The EU anti-proliferation policy is mostly based on the strengthening of the International Atomic and Energy Agency (p. 6), and the EU is

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heavily involved in state building or state saving. In all these areas, the EU’s strategic document considers that an early engagement, through conflict prevention and threat prevention (p. 11), is crucial. The EU ‘should be ready to act before a crisis occurs’ (p. 7).

3. The European security community in the international jungle 3.1 From sounding the tocsin to uncertain trumpeting? Europe’s threat perception Regarding threats Europe’s grand strategy considers that the continent is, at first sight, in a paradoxical situation. The first sentences of A Secure Europe emphasize peace and prosperity: ‘Europe has never been so prosperous, so secure nor so free. The violence of the first half of the 20th century has given way to a period of peace and stability unprecedented in European history’ (p. 1). However, for Europe’s policy-makers, this sense of security and wealth is misleading. Europe remains confronted by threats and challenges (p. 1). The immediate illustration is the conflict in the Balkans. True, large-scale aggression against member states is improbable. But a whole range of ‘new threats’ are ‘more diverse, less visible and less predictable’ (p. 3), but no less pressing. European policy-makers believe that they ‘live in a world that holds brighter prospects but also greater threats than we have known’ (p. 6). Threats and challenges to the European Union and member states are broader. The introduction mentions the frequency of civil war in the last ten years. ‘European forces’ – which is to say the armed forces of EU member states – have been deployed in Afghanistan, the Democratic Republic of Congo or East Timor, and one could add Iraq. The document distinguishes ‘global challenges’ on the one hand, from ‘key threats’ on the other. The document sketches the contours of a threatening, or at least unstable and dangerous, international environment. The challenging environment partially overlaps with the threats, notably regarding ‘failed states and organized crime’ (p. 4). A Secure Europe mentions five different threats. First, terrorism ‘poses a growing strategic threat to the whole Europe’ (p. 3). A new brand of terrorism seems less constrained than older types of terrorist organizations. Efficient and thoroughly up to date in their equipment and tactics, terrorist groups ‘are willing to use unlimited violence to cause massive casualties’ (p. 3). To achieve their objectives they might acquire nuclear weapons. ‘In this event, a small group would be able to inflict damage on a scale previously possible only for States and armies’ (p. 4). As a base and target for such terrorists, often linked to violent religious fundamentalism, the European Union is especially concerned. Second, the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction is ‘potentially the greatest threat to our security’ (p. 3). Despite the constraining effect of an international anti-proliferation regime, the possibility of a WMD race (in the Middle East in particular) and

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the spread of missile technology are worrisome. Third, regional conflicts – such as Kashmir, the Great Lakes Region, the Korean Peninsula as well as the Middle East – threaten regional stability. ‘The most practical way to tackle the often elusive new threats will sometimes be to deal with the older problems of regional conflict’ (p. 4). This threat is all the more acute because it leads to two other threats, ‘state failure’ and organized crime. Fourth, state failure, which stems from corruption, abuse of power, weak institutions, and lack of accountability, as well as civil wars, leads to alarming instabilities. Because of the collapse of state institutions, political authorities lose control over their boundaries and criminal activities affect European security, for example through ‘organized crime or terrorism’ (p. 4). Finally, ‘Europe is a prime target for organized crime’ (p. 4), particularly crossborder trafficking in drugs, women, illegal migrants and weapons. In the end extreme terrorism, the availability of weapons of mass destruction and the failure of the state system are interrelated and Europe could be ‘confronted with a very radical threat indeed’ (p. 5). From the June 2003 draft to the December 2003 final version, the threat identification has been toned down. From somewhat sounding the tocsin in the draft version, A Secure Europe becomes an uncertain trumpeting in the final version. For example, terrorism is not a strategic threat, but a ‘growing’ strategic threat, and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction is not ‘the single most important threat to peace and security among nations’ (June 2003 draft p. 5) anymore, but ‘potentially’ the greatest threat to ‘our’ security (p. 3). External challenges, particularly following the 11 March, 2004 terrorist attacks in Madrid, and the 7 July, 2005 attacks in London, lead to some changes in that regard. Some intellectuals, such as Oriana Fallaci in Italy, demanded a complete revaluation of the threat assessment (Battistelli 2004: 43–58). Part of the uncertainty of Europe’s threat perception is rooted in another uncertainty about who or what is the actual source of insecurity. Is there a threatening actor? 3.2 From enemies to emergencies? Europe’s grand strategy acknowledges that war and violence associated with Europe’s past, during the first half of the twentieth century, have not disappeared (p. 1). ‘European countries are committed to dealing peacefully with disputes and to co-operating through common institutions’ (p. 1). Political theorist Catherine Guisan argues that the meaning of the European project, the identity of Europe, is to win the peace, to go beyond the logic of war and to refuse power, force, and political violence (Guisan 2003). Senior British diplomat Robert Cooper, who played a key role in the drafting of A Secure Europe, emphasized the changing perception of war: ‘Whereas in the modern world, following Clausewitz’ dictum war is an instrument of policy in the postmodern world it is a sign of policy failure’ (Cooper 2002). However, A Secure Europe recognizes that war has not disappeared from the European

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continent as the conflicts in the Balkans made clear. Despite the end of the Cold War ‘Europe still faces security threats and challenges’ (p. 1). During the past decade, no region of the world escaped armed conflict. These wars have often been internal and civilian populations have been victims (p. 2). A Secure Europe presents, if not a theory of war, at least a conception of the causes of war, particularly civil wars, in different regions of the world today. This conception points to a broader conception of the causes of insecurity that underplay the existence of enemies. Poverty, hunger, population displacement and the absence of economic growth more generally favour violent conflict, or a general sense of insecurity, particularly for civilians. These causes of war are mostly domestic and stem from ‘bad governance’: corruption, abuse of power, weak institutions, lack of accountability (p. 4). These domestic crises ‘corrode states from within and adds to regional insecurity’ (p. 4). In such situations wars become more likely. According to A Secure Europe, poverty generates different forms of insecurity likely to trigger conflicts. Once such conflicts begin they reinforce insecurity in the area and increase poverty. If war remains one of the major characteristics of international relations, European policy-makers do not connect war with the aggressive characteristics and intentions of an enemy. A Secure Europe identifies threats and challenges, but does not identify any enemy. Processes are threatening, not actors: terrorism (even if the text mentions terrorists movements, p. 3), proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, regional conflict, state failure and organized crime. Whereas the draft version mentioned the danger of failed states, the final version only mentions state ‘failure’. Among these challenges A Secure Europe evokes the disturbing role of environmental degradation that can trigger migratory movements (p. 3). It also mentions Europe’s energy dependence as a serious source of concern. In short, Europe’s grand strategy does not identify specific actors as enemies. Emergencies are the real danger, and crises need to be managed. Since Europe’s policy-makers do not perceive the existence of an enemy, there is no zero sum game: conflict prevention is possible. Europe’s strategic perceptions seem consistent with a game against nature more than with strategic interaction. Policy-makers do not believe that the main danger in international security comes from the fact that an enemy is ready to use force if an opportunity arises. Various kinds of risks, crises and natural disasters seem to be the kind of dangers that Europeans have in mind, and they tend to merge together enemies and emergencies. 3.3 Military force in the name of peace Like most grand strategies, A Secure Europe does not incorporate a military strategy that would explore specifically and systematically its military implications. The general orientation of strategic preferences seem to imply a relatively frequent resort to military power, but oriented towards the vague

24 The EU in the International System

notion of crisis management and associated to non-military capacities. The military capacities envisioned are significant because Europe must have a capacity to sustain several operations simultaneously. Furthermore, one has to plan early, rapid, and when necessary robust intervention. The Secure Europe document also recommends more resources for defence and less duplication, as well as an improvement of crisis management capacities: integration of civilian and military efforts, stronger diplomatic capability, shared intelligence, and enlargement of the spectrum of missions, beyond the ‘Petersberg tasks’. However, A Secure Europe is short on how military means could achieve Europe’s political ends. The military part of Europe’s grand strategy appears budget-driven and primarily a function of resource allocation. This reflects the under-specified vision of military power pervasive in many EU official documents and analysis about Europe’s external actions. One can judge a certain defence budget sufficient or insufficient only in relation to a certain military strategy. The constabulary force and the indirect approach could provide the basis of such a military strategy. There is, however, in this conception one underlying trend: since none of the new threats is purely military, none can be tackled by purely military means (p. 7). Military power is not absent from this grand strategy, but since European security issues are multi-dimensional, military power should be systematically combined with other instruments. When explaining how to counter the ‘new’ threats, the European Security Strategy emphasizes that military power is just an instrument among others, and probably not the most important. The new situation has nothing to do with the Cold War, when, A Secure Europe argues, the threat was purely military and could be tackled by purely military means. ‘In contrast to the massive visible threat in the Cold War, none of the new threats is purely military; nor can any be tackled by purely military means’ (p. 7). To respond to multifaceted situations a mixture of instruments is needed: export control, political and economic pressures, intelligence, economic instruments, civilian crisis management and occasionally military power. The involvement of both military and civilian capabilities should be the area in which the EU could add particular value. However, military force is not necessarily a last resort. For example, in ‘failed states’ ‘military instruments may be needed to restore order’ (p. 7); this presupposes that military force should be used initially. From the European Security Strategy’s point of view the problem is not so much if and when military power should be used, but in combination with what. According to Europe’s policy-makers military force alone would not be able to control outcomes or, by itself, to eliminate threats, and it would be useful only in combination with other instruments. Finally, capabilities matter. The existing EU instruments and capabilities should be integrated in a coherent whole. Furthermore, according to European policy-makers, this coherence among EU instruments should extend to the co-ordination of the external activities of the individual member states (p. 14).

Pascal Vennesson

25

3.4 Democracy and peace or good governance and stability? Europe’s grand strategy does not make an explicit reference to the promotion of democracy per se. The notion of ‘good governance’ is ambiguous. Good governance refers to the institutionalization of a limited, but effective, pluralism that favours negotiated compromises. Legitimacy comes from the outputs and risk prevention is a key component (Hermet 2004: 159–78). European policy-makers believe that A Secure Europe’s primer on ways to reach goals might potentially be put to the task in a wide variety of situations: in the Balkans, in Ukraine, Moldova and Belarus, in Southern Caucasus, in the Arab–Israeli conflict, in the Mediterranean area and perhaps elsewhere. The underlying assumption of A Secure Europe seems to be that on security issues ‘some outcomes will always be acceptable to both sides absent change in power’ (Jervis 1999: 51). What is somewhat missing are the situations in which a change in ways to reach goals is not enough because the issue is change in preferences over goals or outcomes. Vital interests sometimes do clash. And when they do an attempt to change ways to reach goals might appear insufficient, if not counter-productive. A Secure Europe does not acknowledge that security issues might be, in large part, conflicts about goals and outcomes. The willingness to risk war to expand, or the incompatibility of security requirement, is also part of international politics as well as domestic conflict. Because the preferred EU way to envision action is through changes in ways to reach outcomes, A Secure Europe does not focus on the need for a diagnosis of each specific situation, and of each actor’s objectives. This does not seem to be a critical and difficult step, since the type of action that is envisioned – mostly the promotion of good governance – does not really depend on the nature of the situation. In turn, this blanket statement of promotion of good governance might bring several problems. The rationale seems to promise vast longterm commitment with inadequate resources. The problem of failed states and wars of the ‘third kind’ are serious and pervasive, and the question is often how to choose among many potential interventions (Holsti 1996: 123–49, 183–209). This may lead to relative ineffectiveness and disappointment because of a gap between expectations and capabilities (Hill 1993: 305–28). Furthermore, such a perspective does not result in criteria leading to a definition of priorities. Yet, this is what a grand strategy is supposed to do.

Conclusion The EU’s grand strategy is seeking to define a postmodern realism. It is grounded in a conception of international relations, and of the EU as an international actor that combines elements of constructivism and neoliberal institutionalism. For European policy-makers the challenge is to find compatibility between this worldview and an international environment

26 The EU in the International System

shaped by anarchy, in which security is a first-order concern. The EU as a postmodern polity is constrained to exist and to act in the international jungle as it is, even if it seeks to transform this jungle in the long term. To rationalize and formalize what the EU already is internationally and invent what it could become, Europe’s policy-makers strive to invent a postmodern realism, notably formulated and condensed in A Secure Europe in a Better World. Further inquiries on Europe’s grand strategy can take several paths. While no grand strategy is fully implemented in a naïve way, revisions and adjustments are an important part of the continuing effort to define the EU’s goals and wants. A Secure Europe and further thinking on Europe’s grand strategy might help policy-makers to get a better idea of the costs and difficulties associated with some objectives. When a grand strategy helps an organization become self-evaluating, policy-makers can formulate new hypotheses, clarify what they really want by choosing and modifying ends and means (Wohlstetter 1967: 122). In addition, the military dimension of this grand strategy could be refined and grounded in strategic theories, and the actual military doctrine of the member states. Furthermore, European conceptions of international relations and of the EU as an international actor are not only summarized in a specific document. We need to know more about European worldviews as they are articulated by different policy-makers in Europe.

Note 1. An earlier version of this chapter was presented at the 100th Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association in Chicago, 2–5 September, 2004. I thank Kimberly Marten and the participants, as well as Cathleen Kantner and Angela Liberatore for their helpful comments. I gratefully acknowledge the intellectual and material support of the Institut supérieur des affaires de défense (ISAD)-University Panthéon-Assas, Paris II, and of the European University Institute, Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies.

3 EU Co-ordination in International Organizations: The Case of the United Nations General Assembly and the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva

Introduction The co-ordination among EU member states in the United Nations (UN) and in the CSCE/OSCE (Conference/Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe) has accompanied the EU’s foreign policy co-operation from its initial stages in the 1970s. The analysis of the cohesion of the EU members in the UN General Assembly will be conducted in this chapter in a quantitative way by studying the voting behaviour of EU countries. This quantitative approach allows us to show how cohesion among the EU states has changed over time. In addition, we can examine different issue areas and are able to show the configuration of cohesion by calculating the ‘distances’ of each EU member state from the EU ‘mainstream’. Decisions in the OSCE are made by consensus, so we use a qualitative approach in examining the activities of the EU states to achieve common positions in the OSCE.

1. The EU and its member states in the United Nations General Assembly The General Assembly of the United Nations, one of the six principal organs of the UN, is the place where the ‘sovereign equality’ of states (Article 2(1) UN Charter) is most visible. There are 192 states (and only states) that are members of the General Assembly, each state having one vote. The General Assembly can deal with any matter of international affairs, but it can basically only pass recommendations (called ‘resolutions’, sometimes also ‘decisions’) and not legally binding texts. These rules are in glaring contrast 27

28 The EU in the International System

to the UN Security Council, which has only 15 members, among them five permanent members endowed with a veto power. The Security Council can make binding decisions, in particular under Chapter VII of the UN Charter concerning international peace and security. The EU and its member states are important players at the United Nations (Luif 2003, Ortega 2005). The EU itself, acting for legal reasons in the name of the European Community, has been an observer at the UN since 1974. The EU member states are the largest financial contributors to the UN system. The EU-25 pay some 38 per cent of the UN’s regular budget, more than twofifths of UN peace-keeping operations and around half of all UN member states’ contributions to UN funds and programmes.1 Co-ordination among the EU countries at the United Nations in New York is regarded as part of the EU’s CFSP. Although there are economic topics that belong (partly) to the supranational first pillar of the EU, all subject matters at the General Assembly (and the Security Council) are dealt with by using the CFSP method. The European Commission takes part in all aspects of this co-ordination process, but it does not have the exclusive right of initiative as in first pillar procedures. One can compare its position to that of a member state. The primary role for managing the co-ordination process rests with the EU Presidency (Farrell 2006). The preparations of the EU for the General Assembly start in the first half of the year when the Presidency prepares the ‘Priorities Paper’ for the upcoming UN General Assembly. The Paper is discussed in the Council working group on the UN (CONUN). After the discussion in the Political and Security Committee, the foreign ministers approve the Paper in the General Affairs and External Relations Council. The preparation for the ‘Priorities Paper’ is only the beginning of intensive EU co-ordination on common statements, joint positions on resolutions and negotiations with third countries during the General Assembly. This is done mostly in New York; special important matters are also discussed in Brussels, in the working groups of the Council. In-depth exchanges on matters concerning, for example, the General Assembly’s First Committee (Disarmament and International Security) often take place in Brussels in two Council working groups, CODUN (Global Disarmament and Arms Control) and CONOP (Non-Proliferation). Yet, as with regard to the OSCE, speed, flexibility and division of labour compel the EU to do most of the co-ordination process in New York. In the second half of each year, during the main part of the General Assembly session, there are about 600 meetings of EU representatives in New York (EU member states’ missions, Commission Delegation, Liaison Office of the EU Council). They are held at three levels: the level of the UN ambassadors of the EU member states, the deputy chief of missions level and the expert level. Between September and December, several meetings take place each day, usually before the UN bodies meet.

Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva 29

Co-ordination among the EU countries is a ‘fairly demanding and timeconsuming co-ordination mechanism’,2 also in view of the ever increasing scope of CFSP topics. One way of reducing the workload for the Presidency has been the increasing use of the ‘silence procedure’ by e-mail or COREU (Correspondance Européen), where a statement is regarded as accepted unless a member raises an objection to it before a specified deadline. The Portuguese Presidency (during the first half of 2000) tried to solve the problem of being overburdened by employing individuals from other member states to take responsibility for a particular area of policy co-ordination (Taylor 2006: 147).3 This proposal has not been fully implemented in the UN context; the overall responsibility for co-ordination still rests with the Presidency. But in some areas, for example in human rights, officials from other member states carry out the co-ordination task. 1.1 The degree of consensus among EU member states In contrast to the OSCE consensus decision-making (see the second part of the chapter), the outcome of co-ordination efforts at the UN can be ‘measured’ by looking at the voting behaviour of the EU member states. Each year a large number of resolutions is passed by consensus in the General Assembly; that is, all states in the Assembly accept the text. If one takes all resolutions passed in the General Assembly the EU cohesion has stood at around 95 per cent of all resolutions passed by the General Assembly since the mid-1990s.4 But some 20 to 30 per cent of the resolutions in the General Assembly each year are passed by a ‘recorded vote’ where each UN member votes openly with ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘abstaining’ (or is ‘absent’ from the vote). This voting behaviour is published and will be used here. It is a more substantial indicator for calculating the cohesion among EU member states than using all resolutions passed in the General Assembly.5 Figure 3.1 shows how often the EU member states voted identically in relation to all recorded votes. The solid line indicates that in 1979 the EU states voted identically in almost 60 per cent of all recorded votes. The consensus then declined quite steeply, reaching a low of 27 per cent in 1983. Reasons for that decline could be on the one hand the new Cold War of the early 1980s. On the other hand, the new socialist government in Greece had its own foreign policy agenda, with little regard to the other EU states. But as Greece slowly adjusted to the mainstream of the EU (cf. Table 3.1) and the Cold War receded, the EU consensus increased again. From the early 1990s the consensus among EU member states steadily grew until 1998. After a decline in 1999 and 2000, the consensus votes have increased again, and reached about 75.5 per cent of the recorded votes in the General Assembly in 2002.6 In Figure 3.1 there are two dotted lines for voting on two different issue areas that have been intensively debated over a long period in the General Assembly. Since the Venice Declaration from 1980 the EU has

30 The EU in the International System 100 75 50 25

All recorded votes

Middle East

2002

2000

2001

1999

1998

∗

1997

1996

1995

1994

1993

1992

1991

1990

1989

1987

1985

1983

1981

1979

0 ∗∗

Security

Notes: ∗1996 EU without Greece; ∗∗ until 31 December 2002. Source: Luif 2003 : 28.

Figure 3.1 Percentage of recorded votes in the UN General Assembly with consensus among EU member states

attempted to ‘speak with one voice’ in Middle East affairs, concerning the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Figure 3.1 demonstrates that the EU consensus has almost always been above average in this field. The opposite is true for security matters like various armament questions and in particular nuclear disarmament. Here the cohesion of the EU member states has been below average – not really surprising since the EU includes two nuclear powers, France and the United Kingdom. Other EU countries, such as the Netherlands, Ireland and Sweden have been strong supporters of disarmament and rather critical of nuclear arms (Johansson-Nogués 2004a). 1.2 The positions of individual EU member states Since the EU states do not always vote identically, one could also analyse the voting data to find EU countries that contribute more to the consensus and to look for those EU states that have a more ‘idiosyncratic’ behaviour. A method of locating the EU ‘mainstream’ is to determine the voting behaviour of the (absolute) majority of the EU member states.7 This EU majority position can then be used to calculate the ‘distance’ from it for each of the EU members. To make the numbers comparable over time, the greatest possible distance (i.e. the maximum distance) from the EU majority position for each year will get an index number ‘100’, the minimum distance, when a country always votes identically with the majority, will get a value of ‘0’ (Luif 2003: 30–1). Table 3.1 gives the distance indices from the EU majority for all recorded votes in the UN General Assembly. In 1979 the distances from the majority for each EU member state were relatively small, France showing the greatest

20

28

10 9 9

13 8 5 9 1 1

Greece

Ireland Denmark UK

France Italy Germany, FR Netherlands Luxembourg Belgium

8 3 7 3 2 2

18 13 12

35

20 12

26 25 21

11 4 3 2 1 0

17 11 9

32

20 6

27 27 25

7 1 4 2 1 1

15 11 9

24

13 1

19 21 21

8 1 3 0 0 0

17 11 10

22

13 2

23 21 22

14 1 1 0 0 0

17 11 15

15

14 2

22 18 21

7 1 3 1 0 1

10 4 10

12

10 4

11 7 7

Notes: Maximum distance from the EU Majority = 100, minimum = 0; one-third of the votes. Source: Luif 2003.

8 3 5 3 3 1

11 14 9

20 14

26 17

Portugal

Spain

15 18 14

17 21 20

Finland Sweden

Austria

∗

9 0 1 1 0 1

7 2 9

8

7 1

8 5 7

12 1 0 1 0 0

5 0 10

2

3 0

5 1 5

8 0 2 5 1 1 ∗∗

2 0 13

4

2 1

2 4 1

1996 EU without Greece;

6 0 1 0 0 0

5 3 10

8

7 2

6 5 6

6 0 1 2 2 1

5 2 7

1

1 1

4 4 4

10 0 1 1 1 1

3 1 10

1

1 1

1 1 2

13 1 2 1 1 1

4 1 9

1

1 1

2 1 4

13 2 1 1 1 1

4 0 9

1

2 1

2 1 2

9 3 1 1 1 0

5 2 9

1

2 1

2 1 4

8 2 2 2 1 1

5 1 8

2

3 4

3 1 4

∗∗

until 31 December 2002; n/a: absent in more than

7 1 2 3 1 1

6 2 7

n/a

3 2

5 2 6

1979 1981 1983 1985 1987 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996∗ 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002

Table 3.1 Distance from the EU majority, all votes

31

32 The EU in the International System

distance with an index number of 13. The EU countries had a somewhat diverse voting behaviour, only Belgium and Luxembourg casting their votes almost always with the majority. The future member states (indicated by a grey shade in the cells of Table 3.1) displayed a greater detachment from the EU majority than the EU countries themselves. When Greece joined the EU in 1981 it adjusted its voting behaviour slightly to the EU mainstream. But in 1983 Greece noticeably moved away from the EU majority. As already mentioned, the change to a socialist government seems to be the causal factor for this change, since most other EU member states did not alter their distance from the EU majority. Greece then moved slowly closer to the EU mainstream (the other countries more or less maintaining their positions) and the overall cohesion of the EU increased, as can be seen in Figure 3.1 above. Spain and in particular Portugal had already adjusted their voting behaviour to the EU majority before they became members of the EU in 1986. Neutral Ireland, on the contrary, moved away from the EU majority during the 1980s. This could have been caused by the renewed Cold War. In the late 1980s one can clearly identify a ‘core’ group of countries, almost always voting with the majority: five of the six original members (France being the exception) plus Portugal. In the early 1990s, the more ‘peripheral’ countries, in particular Denmark, Ireland and Spain, noticeably moved closer to the EU majority. Since the mid-1990s only two EU countries clearly have stood out any further, France and the United Kingdom. This structure was not changed by the accession of three ‘neutrals’, Austria, Finland and Sweden, which joined the EU in 1995. They had already noticeably adjusted their voting behaviour to the EU mainstream. Thus, the cohesion among the now 15 EU member states did not decrease; in fact, it rose until 1998, as Figure 3.1 shows. In 1999 and 2000 France moved slightly away from the EU mainstream, causing a reduction in EU cohesion. The distance index numbers for the two final years in Table 3.1 (2001 and 2002) show that France and the United Kingdom display a slightly reduced but still notable ‘distance’ from the EU majority. Ireland and Sweden, both neutral/non-aligned countries, also deviate a bit more from the mainstream than the rest of the EU countries, whereas the other neutrals, Austria and in particular Finland, have moved close to the EU mainstream.8 Table 3.2 uses the voting behaviour at the 57th UN General Assembly (September–December 2002) and distinguishes among several issue areas. According to Table 3.2, the greatest cohesion among EU member states was in the votes on the Middle East, as Figure 3.1 shows.9 In contrast, security issues voted in the General Assembly evidently divided the EU countries. The United Kingdom and France as nuclear powers clearly voted differently from the rest of the EU member states. Ireland and Sweden as neutrals also differed from the mainstream. The few votes on decolonization show again the United Kingdom and France as EU ‘outsiders’. In human rights issues

Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva 33 Table 3.2 Distance from the EU majority: different issue areas in 2002 EU member states

All votes

Middle East

Security

Decolonization

Human Rights

Austria Finland Sweden

3 1 4

0 0 0

4 3 8

5 0 5

3 0 0

Spain Portugal

3 4

0 0

3 3

5 n/a

5 5

Greece

2

0

0

5

5

Ireland Denmark UK

5 1 8

0 0 0

10 0 15

5 5 25

2 0 0

France Italy Germany, FR Netherlands Luxembourg Belgium

8 2 2 2 1 1

0 0 0 0 0 3

15 1 3 0 0 0

15 0 0 5 5 0

3 3 2 2 0 0

Notes: Maximum distance from the EU majority = 100, minimum = 0; data for the 57th General Assembly, September–December 2002; n/a: absent in more than one-third of the votes.

the distribution of divergent votes was rather atypical, with Greece, Portugal and Spain voting in a slightly different way than the EU majority. Data for the states that joined the EU in 2004 show that they – as in earlier enlargements (see Table 3.1) – had already adjusted to the ‘mainstream’ of the EU before joining the EU. In fact, the voting convergence between the new member states and the old ones has been ‘well beyond expectation’ (Johansson-Nogués 2006: 109; Luif 2003: 37–48).

2. The EU and its member states in the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe10 At the time of writing the OSCE has 56 participating states and is the largest regional security organization (Kemp 2004; Zellner 2005). It conducts a wide range of activities related to its three dimensions of security – the human, the politico-military and the economic-environmental. The Permanent Council (PC) is the forum for exchanging views and decision-making. It consists of the member states’ representatives (ambassadors) and is located in Vienna, Austria. It is at the PC meetings that the 25 EU member states usually put forward a single statement to represent the EU’s position on the issues at stake. National contributions to the OSCE budget (for its institutions and missions) are an element of influence. These contributions are made on a

34 The EU in the International System

voluntary basis, payments are not based on GDP or other factors. In 2005 the EU countries paid about 70 per cent of the OSCE budget, the larger EU member states (Germany, UK, France and Italy) contributed 41 per cent and the remaining 21 EU states 28 per cent. The United States contributed slightly more than 12 per cent, Russia only some 5 per cent. In 2004 and at the beginning of 2005, Russia actually refused to agree to the OSCE’s 2005 budget, arguing that the organization paid too much attention to election monitoring and other activities in countries ‘east of Vienna’ and not enough to security concerns. In April 2005 a deal was reached between the United States and Russia establishing that OSCE members will contribute to the organization’s budget in the same proportions as in 2004.11 In the year 2006 the financial situation of the organization has improved again and allowed for the normal operating of the OSCE. 2.1 Overview of the EU co-ordination in the OSCE EU members usually present a single position in the OSCE, summarized in one statement, presented by the OSCE ambassador of the country holding the EU Presidency on behalf of all member states. Between the meeting of Heads of Missions on Monday afternoon, through the discussion of the Preparatory Committee on Tuesday, to the last-minute talks on Thursday morning, before the Permanent Council meeting, there are meetings on different levels between different representatives of the EU member-state missions to the OSCE in Vienna. The procedure to co-ordinate the positions is based on the intergovernmental method of the CFSP and requires consensus among the EU 25. There are different opinions as to how much discussion takes place at the co-ordination meetings; the time and effort needed for reaching a single position seem to be contingent upon the issues at stake. EU membership presupposes that the 25 EU members already share a set of values and political positions and – according to interviews conducted with different representatives of EU member states – consensus is easily achieved in about 95 per cent of cases. The remaining 5 per cent usually includes issues that are of particular importance to one or more EU member states, which specifically insist on the recognition of their position.12 The back door in such cases is the possibility of the member state concerned expressing its reservations after the common EU statement is made at the PC meeting. In those rarely occurring situations the contesting member state declares its affiliation with the common EU position, while retaining certain considerations on the issue. The position of the EU also depends on whose competency the particular issue falls into – Community or member state. That is why there is usually strong agreement on the issues within the scope of the third OSCE dimension, the human dimension. As in every situation where decisions are made on a consensual basis among a significant number of participants, on certain occasions compromises have to be made particularly on the wording of a statement. As a result

Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva 35

a number of negotiations are concerned with single words that do or do not correspond to the exact position or expectations of some of the member states. These vocabulary deliberations are done at different levels; at each stage of the negotiation process the 25 states accept the wording reached at a lower level. It can then happen that the outcome is a rather general statement, catered to the preferences of all 25 members. The danger of broad and less substantial statements therefore exists. Yet this is an inevitable by-product of the consensual nature of the OSCE and the attempt of the EU to put forward a single position. In the eyes of EU members in fact a common – if generic – statement is a more desirable option than showing internal division. In addition to the 25 EU member states and the accession countries Bulgaria and Romania, who attend all EU co-ordination meetings, there also exists a group of the so-called ‘like-minded’ states, which, although not members of the EU, share to a large extent the views of the Union. Those states include Norway, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Iceland and Canada; regular co-ordination meetings take place between them and the EU. The EU-aligned members thus have gained a significant numerical prevalence in the OSCE.13 Because of the rigid process of co-ordination between EU member states prior to Permanent Council meetings, and the desire of all parties to come to a consensus as a Union, non-EU countries, in particular Russia, have blamed the Union for ‘killing’ the politically productive dialogue within the organization. Some vocal non-EU ambassadors (for instance, a Russian and an American representative at the Permanent Council) have expressed their discontent with the limited political discussion that takes place after a joint EU statement. However, officials from EU member states’ missions to the OSCE firmly believe that not only is there enough left to be said by non-EU countries, but that these countries usually use this opportunity for dialogue to the fullest. A single European Union statement, they argue, saves a significant amount of time during PC meetings: instead of listening to 25 similarly or equivalently formulated statements, the members of the PC only hear one such statement on behalf of the EU.14 The major weakness of the tight co-ordination between EU member states is not the lack of a political dialogue, but rather its overabundance. Because of unexpected developments during all-OSCE talks the EU sometimes needs to revise its position, which in turn requires the 25 to convene frequently to debrief each other and come to a new single position. This process increases both the amount of time and work for the EU states and inevitably causes them to lag behind other OSCE participating states with their position. This is of particular significance during OSCE Ministerial Councils, where the risk of running behind negotiations is real. 2.2 Chefs de file Research shows that in the OSCE the European Union usually comes forth with, at least, a common position on most of the issues discussed. The

36 The EU in the International System

Union also contributes through negotiations to the setting up of the agenda. The ‘troika’ of the EU in the OSCE, made up of the current and upcoming presidencies and a representative of the European Commission, regularly attends consultations with the Chairman-in-Office of the Organization. The co-ordination becomes particularly complex when the Chairmanship is held by an EU country, which has to maintain a high level of impartiality with both the EU and the other member states of the OSCE. This occured towards the end of 2006 when the Belgian Chairmanship tried to uphold its right on initiative without letting the EU interfere too much with its planned proposals. As the number of issues on the agenda varies and potentially increases every year, the EU member states have designed a way of using their number to increase the level of the EU’s effectiveness within the OSCE. Having 25 members means that the work can be distributed among 25 teams of specialists. The EU in the OSCE has developed a system in which each state takes over at least one field of competence. The person in charge of that field, or the so-called chef de file, has the responsibility of exploring the field, keeping track of developments and discussing it with other members when and if need be. The chefs de file also draft the common EU statements in their respective fields, which are then brought to the attention of the ambassadors of the member states who have to agree on a common position on those texts. The chefs de file are distributed rather randomly, based either on previous expertise that a particular state or a member of a delegation has, or based on certain national interests of the member states. Because of the abundance of issues on the OSCE agenda, each member state usually takes over more than one field of responsibility. At the beginning of each semester the Presidency of the EU circulates a list with its agenda topics, open to discussion and to the individual choice of member states. The fields of expertise vary from regional themes such as countries, to specific issues, such as border management. As the EU Presidency changes every six months, so does the distribution of chefs de file. The EU member states that acceded to the Union in May 2004 were initially reluctant to take up the role of chefs de file, either because of the lack of experience or the lack of expertise and resources. With time and a greater cohesion within the EU the division of labour has improved and the new EU member states are now contributing equally to the work of the Union in the OSCE. 2.3 The role of Brussels The foreign ministries of all OSCE participating states are directly involved in the making of the policies discussed at the Permanent Council meetings. We found, however, that most of the work is done on the ground in Vienna by the officials at the missions of the OSCE states. As the circumstances can quickly change, the people in each delegation are expected to make decisions

Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva 37

for which they bear responsibility. They also regularly brief their respective capitals and people in charge back home, but – according to our interviews – they usually do not expect to receive highly specific instructions. The OSCE Working Group in the EU Council in Brussels provides the general guidelines for the EU member state delegations at the OSCE headquarters in Vienna. Those guidelines, along with the specific country agenda of each individual member state, shape the position of the EU countries. Yet, OSCE Working Group meetings take place only once a month, which prevents the Group from taking action on every issue that might unexpectedly come up. Therefore, the actual work is largely done by the delegations in Vienna. Negotiations on different issues also depend largely on the personality of the ambassadors conducting them. This is especially true at the EU co-ordination meetings within the OSCE. Following broad agenda guidelines from the capitals, the ambassadors choose how to present their country’s position at the meetings. According to our research, Brussels does not dictate the rules of conduct of the EU within the OSCE. The European Commission plays a special role in the process of EU co-ordination. A representative of the Commission attends all EU coordination meetings with the Chairman-in-Office, the candidate and likeminded countries, and the US and Russia. The representative works closely with the Directorate General External Relations in Brussels, reporting back all developments from the OSCE headquarters. Some EU Presidencies have been more active with regards to the relation between the EU and the OSCE,15 for example, during the Dutch EU Presidency in the second half of 2004 when an ‘Assessment Report on the EU’s role vis-à-vis the OSCE’ was circulated to all EU missions to the OSCE. The report affirmed that the ‘EU should seek to re-enforce its contribution to the peace and stability in the Euro-Atlantic area through the OSCE’. In the report the importance of EU consensus is stressed: ‘Speaking with one voice’ along agreed lines is essential for EU credibility, influence and effectiveness in the OSCE. Acting along agreed lines with regard to OSCE institutions and field missions is also crucial to achieving EU goals. 2.4 Differences among EU member states In a formal sense the opinions of Germany, France, the United Kingdom and Italy have the same weight as those of Estonia, Slovenia or Luxembourg. As may be expected, however, not only do the interests of the larger states encompass more areas in the world and more activities of the OSCE, but their delegations also possess greater human, financial and informational resources. Basically, the involvement of each individual EU member state within the OSCE depends to a large extent on the importance the foreign

38 The EU in the International System

ministry attaches to the OSCE as an organization: some EU countries with more limited resources at their disposal prefer to concentrate their foreign policy on other, more influential organizations than the OSCE. Furthermore, there seems to be a fault-line within the EU in the context of the OSCE as the cliché of ‘Old Europe’ and ‘New Europe’ turns out to have some significance: the May 2004 enlargement brought in eight former communist countries, each with its own agenda and foreign policy priorities. For these countries what matters most in the framework of the OSCE are their relations with Russia. The OSCE is indeed a forum for engaging Russia in a co-operative and effective dialogue; it is the willingness to compromise and to keep the dialogue going that sustains the OSCE as such. As the EU would like to cater to the interests of its own member states and continue to stand behind a shared position, co-ordination on issues involving Russia proves particularly difficult. The two dialogues taking place, one among the EU member states and the second between the EU as a whole and Russia, are a tough test for the cohesion among EU member states. 2.5 OSCE reform At the end of 2006 the debate on the reform of OSCE is drawing to an end. Diverging, in fact sometimes diametrically opposed, positions have prolonged the discussion testing the negotiating power of the EU in the OSCE as a balancer between the US and Russia. The EU has finally come out with a common position on each of the identified points for reform.16 Most importantly, the EU supports the proposal for giving the OSCE a legal status and does not see the need for changing the mandate of the Secretary General. It was expected that the discussion would be concluded with several ministerial decisions at the beginning of December 2006 in Brussels.

Conclusions The voting behaviour in the UN General Assembly clearly indicates that there has been a move by the EU states towards more uniform positions in international organizations. But the quantitative data and the qualitative analysis of the co-ordination process at the OSCE also revealed that EU cohesion is not perfect. There continue to be limits for ‘speaking with one voice’, which will be difficult to overcome in the foreseeable future. One of these limits seems to be external security issues where France and the United Kingdom still insist on their national interests. This problem is magnified by their membership in the UN Security Council. France and the United Kingdom, as permanent members, still do not fully co-ordinate their activities in the Security Council with the other EU member states.17 The efforts of Germany to become a permanent member of the Security Council could reinforce this differentiation among EU countries.

Paul Luif and Mariyana Radeva 39

There is another element of separation among EU states – the small-big divide. The smaller countries have less influence in EU foreign policy since they often lack adequate resources to participate actively in EU decisionmaking – they simply do not have the manpower and sufficient information. The small neutral and non-aligned EU member states participate fully in the CFSP, but at least in external security matters (except perhaps for Finland) they position themselves slightly outside the EU mainstream. The European Union is in a rather strong position in the OSCE and to a lesser extent in the UN General Assembly, since the EU and its members are big contributors to the respective budgets and the EU speaks on behalf of at least 25, soon 27 countries. The EU position is usually based on an agreement among a significant number of countries and thus can be regarded itself as a ‘compromise’ point of view. Therefore, it is not completely surprising that the EU places itself in the UN General Assembly somewhere between the countries of the Third World and the only superpower, the United States. This makes it an important interlocutor for most members of the General Assembly. But can the EU really use this influence? The co-ordination process among the EU member states is very cumbersome and time-consuming. It sometimes seems that finding a consensus is more important than proactively influencing international organizations. When EU countries have finally reached agreement, negotiations on their position with third countries often become impossible, since no EU state will be eager to open up the (hard won) consensus. In addition, the attainment of consensus has to be distinguished from achieving substantial agreements which would be capable of producing a truly collective policy (Musu 2003). There are some institutional instruments available to member states to further strengthen the EU voice. The already mentioned November 2004 Dutch Presidency ‘Assessment Report on the EU’s role vis-à-vis the OSCE’ suggested the following division of labour: The EU co-ordination remains focused on the definition of priorities, guidelines and positions – further handling of practical issues can be left to the discretion of the EU Presidency, in co-operation with the European Commission and the Council Secretariat, while keeping the member states informed of all relevant developments in a transparent way. The Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe proposed the creation of a Minister for Foreign Affairs to express the Union’s positions in international organizations. Given the stalemate on the Constitution question, and the lack of political will for giving up sovereignty in foreign affairs, it remains to be seen if the EU will be able to play a proactive role in international organizations as long as its decision-making continues to be intergovernmental and consensus oriented.

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Notes 1. See The Enlarging European Union at the United Nations: Making Multilateralism Matter. Agreed by the Troika and Member States in New York, January 2004. Luxembourg: Office for Official Publications of the European Communities, 2004: 6. 2. These are the words of Ernst Sucharipa, ‘Die Gemeinsame Außen- und Sicherheitspolitik (GASP) der Europäischen Union im Rahmen der Vereinten Nationen’, in Frowein, Scharioth, Winkelmann and Wolfrum (eds) (2003): 773–97, here p. 786. Ambassador Sucharipa was head of the Austrian Permanent Mission to the United Nations during Austria’s EU Presidency in the second half of 1998. 3. This so-called chefs de file system had already been introduced by the EU in the OSCE, see below. 4. Enlarging European Union (note 1): 11. 5. In addition to votes on passed resolutions, votes on rejected resolutions, on parts of resolutions and on motions and decisions are included also (Luif 2003: 22–3). Owing to a protracted strike by Greek diplomats in December 1996, Greece was absent from most of the votes in 1996. Therefore, Greece has been eliminated from the calculations in 1996. 6. There were several dubious ‘absent’ votes by EU states in 2002; in correcting these ‘mistakes’, the cohesion of the EU countries would have been somewhat higher than 75.5 per cent in 2002. 7. Most of the time there will be such a majority position, except in cases when there is an even number of EU countries and each half votes differently, or there could be a ‘three-way’ split among EU member states. 8. Portugal was absent in four votes during 2002 and thus has a bigger distance to the EU majority than in the years before. 9. The index ‘3’ for Belgium comes from being absent at one vote in the General Assembly. 10. The analysis of EU co-ordination in the OSCE is based on interviews by Mariyana Radeva with Deputy Heads of Missions and other official representatives of national delegations to the OSCE in Vienna. 11. See Daniel Dombey, ‘Russia and US reach OSCE deal’, in Financial Times, 11.4.2005. 12. Such issues may refer to the relation of EU member states to Russia or their interests in the Western Balkans. 13. Upon the accession of Bulgaria and Romania, the EU number 27 out of the 56 participating states in the OSCE. Including the five like minded-countries and the three candidate states, Croatia, Macedonia and Turkey, countries with aligned to the EU positions will be 35 out of 56, or more than 62 per cent of OSCE participating states. 14. Interviews conducted by the author in 2004–5. 15. On EU–OSCE relations in general see the background paper ‘The OSCE’s External Relations’, published by the OSCE Secretariat, Vienna 2003. 16. These points, or the so-called ‘11 Ticks’, were outlined in the first part of the Ljubljana Ministerial Decision MC.DEC/17/05. 17. The Treaty on European Union (Art. 19(2)) in fact recognizes the special position of the permanent members.

Part II The EU and the Great Powers

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4 European Positions and American Responses: ESDP–NATO Compatibility Bastian Giegerich

1. Introduction The divide between Atlanticists and Europeanists among members of the EU is partly based on different views regarding the desired role of the US in European security and the relationship between NATO and ESDP. First, I will evaluate British, French and German positions on the issue of ESDP–NATO compatibility to arrive at an initial assessment of convergence in this area. Secondly, I will analyse the US response in detail. This chapter contributes to our understanding of obstacles to – and degrees of – convergence in one of the most dynamic areas of European integration: security and defence policy. ESDP was supposed to strengthen the EU’s CFSP by equipping the Union with civilian and military crisis management capabilities. The institutional arrangements were set up in 2000 comprising a Political and Security Committee, an EU Military Staff and an EU Military Committee. The EU has successfully initiated and concluded its first civilian and military crisis management missions under the ESDP heading, including a long-range operation in the Congo. It took over SFOR in Bosnia from NATO at the end of 2004. At the time of writing a total of 16 missions had been launched under the ESDP heading. Furthermore, after two years of protracted negotiations, NATO and the EU have agreed on assured access to NATO assets and capabilities for the EU. In December 2003 the EU has also agreed its first Security Strategy (European Council 2003). Although not under the EU flag, throughout 2003 the EU member states collectively deployed and sustained forces in more than 20 military crisis management missions all around the world whose total size approached the 60 000 strong headline goal (Giegerich and Wallace 2004). In February 2004 France and the UK – quickly joined by Germany – called for the formation of national and multinational rapid-deployment Battle 43

44 The EU and the Great Powers

Groups of 1500 troops apiece. From January 2007 on the EU will have the capacity to conduct two nearly simultaneous Battle Group deployments at any given point in time. Since Battle Groups are on call for six months, there are four slots to be filled for each year. At the time of writing, all slots up to 2010 have been assigned with the exception of one slot in 2009. Actions have also been taken in the area of institutional development. In December 2003 France, Germany and the UK reached an agreement on the issue of an independent EU civil – military planning cell. The agreement stipulates that the cell, while technically independent from NATO, will only be used as a last resort and will not develop into a fully-fledged headquarters. However, from January 2007 on the Operations Center, which is part of the planning cell, can be reinforced per Council decision and thus grow to a size that enables it to plan and run operations of up to 1800–2000 troops. A European Defence Agency has been set up to help member states to reach their capability targets. Overall, a number of the developments mentioned above suggest that ESDP may be moving in the direction of stronger autonomy from NATO. At the same time there was growing awareness that the EU had to focus more on qualitative rather than quantitative aspects of the military headline goals.

2. European attitudes towards autonomy: convergence or congruence? Have EU member states’ attitudes towards ESDP and transatlantic security cooperation converged or not? Traditionally, EU member states were divided into the two camps of Atlanticists – those, led by the UK, who see their security interests best represented in NATO and would like to strengthen the Alliance through ESDP – and Europeanists – those, led by France, who would like to use ESDP to gain greater independence and autonomy from the US. Yet, there have always been those EU member states, such as Germany, whose governments traditionally tried to bridge this divide.1 The Blair government, supported by the United States, had argued that formal contacts between the EU and NATO should be set up early in order to avoid duplication of NATO planning capabilities and any development of new EU bodies that could harm NATO. The desire to ensure NATO’s primacy can be seen most clearly in the interpretation of what exactly an ‘autonomous’ European crisis management capability means. Pressured by Washington the Blair government lobbied its European partners in late 1999 to get rid of the very concept of autonomy in the EU’s ESDP related documents (Howorth 2000c: 47). The declaration produced at the British– French summit in November 1999 also reflects an attempt to clarify the formula by inserting language that hints at a NATO right of first refusal in military operations. The UK has tried to unmistakably link EU missions to NATO decisions. As Howorth concluded, ‘London’s preferred scenario would be one in which the EU acts as an “intelligent consumer of NATO’s

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military services” ’ (Ibid.: 42). Defence policy papers published during the Blair administration routinely assert NATO’s vital role for European and British security and defence as well as for binding the US to Europe and ensuring a strong American commitment. Perhaps the most disarming one can be found in a Ministry of Defence policy paper: ‘Whatever we do in Europe, the UK is in no doubt that NATO is and must remain the cornerstone of Europe’s collective defence’ (UK MoD 2001: 8; par. 37). In the House of Commons senior policy-makers proclaimed NATO’s preeminence as far as security co-operation in Europe was concerned. Then Secretary of State for Defence Robertson suggested that the St Malo declaration meant that France ‘for the first time    is conceding that NATO is the cornerstone [of European security]’ (House of Commons Select Committee on Defence 1999). Strengthening the European pillar of NATO through ESDP was framed as a response to American calls for better transatlantic burden-sharing. In this sense, ESDP was thought both to respond to American demands and, at the same time, help to curb isolationist tendencies in the United States, the rationale being that the US would find an Alliance with more capable allies a more attractive proposition (House of Commons 2000, 22 Nov., Col. 320). The rhetoric about better burden-sharing must not distract from the fact that concerns about US disengagement were clearly visible and had been growing since the Bosnia crisis in 1992. Apparently the prospect of not having an institutional alternative to NATO created a certain degree of anxiety rooted in a perceived growing reluctance of the US to get involved in European crisis management. While on the one hand eager to impress the point that NATO would remain the preferred arena for co-operation, government representatives had to carve out room for an institutionalized back-up for when NATO would not be able to act on the other. By definition this position had an in-built tension. ESDP was both the price to be paid for continued US engagement and hence the viability of future NATO relevance, as well as the insurance policy for limited military action in case the US proved to be reluctant. Very much the self-proclaimed guardians of the transatlantic alliance, the Conservatives attacked the government’s case for ESDP. The most straightforward line of reasoning was simply that, by virtue of being organized outside of NATO structures, ESDP would weaken the alliance. Here, Conservative MPs took their cues from a long string of American statements expressing this concern.2 Then Shadow Defence Secretary Jenkin, proclaimed that it was ‘absolutely clear that NATO is the cornerstone of our security in the widest sense    [and that it is] the superior alliance in European security’ (House of Commons 2003, 16 October, Col. 277). The sentiment that the NATO-only option might no longer suffice, clearly present in the Labour discourse, was not visible in the contributions of Conservative MPs. While it was a shift in the British position under Tony Blair that enabled the dynamic development of ESDP in the first place, the government of the United Kingdom remains

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concerned about a creeping expansion of ESDP structures and mandate. Most recently this could be witnessed in a row with France over the budget envelope for the European Defence Agency.3 French policy-makers saw ESDP as a means of bridging the gap between their aspirations and their abilities. After the end of the Cold War ESDP was a way to compensate for loss of national influence dictated by the need for cooperation in the security realm. On the other hand, while acknowledging the importance of NATO, ESDP was a means of gaining greater autonomy from the US and rebalancing the transatlantic alliance. Negating any competition between the two frameworks, French President Jacques Chirac presented ESDP as a demonstration of new-found European responsibility for security and defence and an instrument to be used in crisis situations in which the US did not want to be involved. Juxtaposing NATO against ESDP would hence be an artificially constructed view (Chirac 1999a, b). In a subtle way Chirac defined NATO mostly in terms of collective defence rather than military crisis management. He repeatedly referred to NATO as being essential for the collective defence of Europe without directly addressing NATO’s move into crisis management (Chirac 2000). Speaking to an American audience, then Minister of Defence Alliot-Marie drove home the message the French government was promoting: ‘The development of the ESDP is the only real chance for the US to see the Europeans accepting at last their full share of responsibilities and increasing their capabilities’ (Alliot-Marie 2002: 17 Oct). As Tiersky has argued in the context of the French rapprochement with NATO, ‘ “rebalancing” is also    a French code word for limiting American domination’ of NATO and European security (Tiersky 1997: 49). However, one must not discount the belief that a European label might motivate some European governments to increase their defence reform and financial efforts in their own right. In addition, Andreani, then himself a French official, argued that French policy-makers thought ESDP would contribute to preventing a major US–European divide on the use of force (see: Andreani 2002: 999). The fact that Chirac and other French policy-makers were presenting ESDP as complementary to NATO should not distract from the strong emphasis on European autonomy. Autonomy could only be defined in relation to NATO and the United States: ‘it is in the interest of the French and the Europeans to be able to weigh in on their destiny and to have the capacity to act together, without necessarily depending on decisions taken elsewhere’ (Chirac 1999c). Elsewhere could safely be translated into Washington, DC. French policy-makers were concerned about the influence of American interference on European autonomy. The successful French attempt to block early discussions on a formalized link between NATO and the nascent ESDP is an example (see: Howorth 2000b: 392). Discussions initiated by the US eventually lead to the creation of the NATO Response Force (NRF) in late 2002 and also triggered mistrust and hostile responses from French policymakers (see: Assemblée Nationale 2002). President Chirac travelled to Prague

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to state repeatedly that the NRF had to be coherent with ESDP, a theme that he continued to mention after the summit (see: Chirac 2002a, b; 2003). French leaders were much more concerned about institutional competition coming from NATO rather than the other way around and continue to argue for an expansive interpretation of European autonomy. ESDP introduced an element of choice into the security and defence realm. This made it potentially more difficult for Germany to maintain its dual preference for a strong transatlantic bond through NATO and a strong European vocation through her partnership with France as the engine of European integration. The German discourse on the relationship between ESDP and NATO rested on the two ideas of alleged compatibility and strengthening of NATO. Compatibility became the catch phrase that German policy-makers used to promote ESDP as a tool to help produce a stronger transatlantic alliance. Interestingly the 2003 defence policy guidelines, after making one of the strongest reassertions of German loyalty for NATO, offered a very openended definition of ESDP’s tasks. In two instances the paper described NATO as the backbone of European security and German membership of the Alliance as the ‘cornerstone of its security’ (BMVg 2003: 10, par. 46; also: 9, par. 40). However, in the same section, when the issue of European autonomy vis-à-vis NATO comes up, ambiguity found its way into the paper. After reiterating that ESDP is based on a strategic partnership between the EU and NATO, its raison d’être is defined as enabling ‘the Europeans to act independently where NATO as a whole is not willing or there is no need for NATO to become involved’ (Ibid.: 9, par. 40, emphasis added). Staunch Atlanticists like Volker Rühe (CDU/CSU) explained that only a Europe that is capable of some independent crisis management can succeed in keeping the US engaged in Europe, and later insisted that ESDP was necessary to create a more balanced sharing of the transatlantic burden (see: Bundestag 1999: 14/35-2769B; 2000: 14/134-12790C). For the FDP, Wolfgang Gerhardt contended that if Europe had any ambitions to play a global role, it could only hope to do so in conjunction with North America (see: Bundestag 2002: 15/16-1196B). Several speakers from the governing coalition highlighted the perceived connection between ESDP as a supplement to NATO that would ultimately strengthen NATO. By framing ESDP within this NATO context, these speakers indirectly reinforced NATO loyalty, since strengthening NATO was used to give ESDP legitimacy in the German debate (see: Bundestag 1999: 14/41-3486D; 14/35-2772A-B; 14/35-2793D). German policy-makers clearly attempted to build rhetorical bridges between the EU’s initiative and NATO. Then Foreign Minister Fischer (B90/Gr) claimed credit on Germany’s behalf for actively de-conflicting EU–NATO relations. He proposed that Germany had, since ESDP’s inception, worked to create an atmosphere of trust by fostering close co-ordination through EU– NATO working groups, and making sure that non-EU members of NATO

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had a voice in ESDP (see: Bundestag 2000: 14/108-10137B; 2001: 14/15815376A). When, however, the US floated ideas for the NRF the issue of compatibility got a new twist. This time, the question was whether NRF was compatible with the EU’s plans for developing a rapid reaction force as defined in the 1999 Headline Goal. Just as German policy-makers had tried to make ESDP conditional on its positive effects on NATO, support for NRF was initially conditioned on NRF not undermining ESDP by speakers of all mainstream parties (see: Bundestag 2002: 15/10-535A; -548B; -543A; -550D-551A, transl.). The grand coalition government, in power since November 2005, under the leadership of Chancellor Angela Merkel (CDU) has yet again strengthened the role of NATO in its rhetoric but, in light of demanding (and, for German policy-makers, uncomfortable) operations in Afghanistan, finds it difficult to translate this rhetoric into action. Overall, however, the conclusion at this stage has to be that the Atlanticist– Europeanist divide still matters. The poles may be narrowing and the middle ground is becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but it would be premature to speak of a convergence of views among EU member states. Rather, the whole enterprise of ESDP seems to be an example of congruence. The 2004 EU enlargement was expected to reinvigorate the Atlanticist–Europeanist debate because of the influx of a whole group, led by Poland, of fiercely proAmerican member states. However, the experience to date suggests that once in the EU these new members gravitate towards more moderate positions as well. To be sure, there are different views on how autonomous ESDP should be from NATO but these persistent differences do not stand in the way of ESDP as a whole as long as both Atlanticists and Europeanists find their positions reflected in official discourse. Two fringe positions, which would pose severe obstacles even for congruence, would be to demand an institutionalized subordination of ESDP – and hence the EU – under NATO on the one hand, and the attempt to use the EU to counter-balance US influence. To say that the former is the position of the UK and the latter the one of France would be a gross distortion of these countries’ policies. In fact, the driver of congruence with regards to ESDP is the realization prompted by the lessons of the Balkan wars of the 1990s: the EU member states need to improve their crisis management capabilities. This entails both improved military capabilities and an institutional framework within the EU. This consensus bridges the Atlanticist–Europeanist divide as is evidenced by the fact that France and the UK are the main political forces behind the whole ESDP process.

3. The Clinton administration responds to ESDP: 1998–2000 In principle, US policy towards the emerging ESDP could reinforce the divisions among Europeans and thereby undermine congruence by appealing

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to the pro-NATO instinct of some EU members. At the same time, a strong endorsement of the US government would mitigate the impact of Atlanticism. President Clinton, elected on a platform that emphasized domestic issues, did not have a clearly defined position on European security and NATO adaptation when he entered office in 1993. The first visit of Clinton to NATO Headquarters in Brussels in January 1994 marked an important development in this regard with the birth of the European Security and Defence Identity (ESDI). As a military-technical arrangement ESDI allowed for the WEU to use NATO collective assets and the North Atlantic Council was instructed to work out a mechanism to implement this arrangement. The summit also endorsed the concept of Combined Joint Task Forces (CJTF) as a means of adapting the alliance. The next critical step was the June 1996 NATO ministerial meeting in Berlin. The development of ESDI within NATO, using the new CJTF concept for missions directed under the WEU heading, was declared one of the fundamental principles guiding NATO adaptation. The CJTF would facilitate ‘the use of separable but not separate military capabilities in operations led by the WEU’ (NATO 1996: par. 6). Taken together, the 1994 and 1996 decisions make up what the US representative to NATO at the time, Ambassador Robert Hunter, called a ‘grand bargain’ (Hunter 2002: 13). The Clinton administration had agreed to make the WEU into a potentially effective military organization as a way to help build ESDI within NATO. Aside from the surprise factor there are two issues that are important in understanding why the US government felt the need to publicly express its concerns about the St Malo statement and lay out the boundaries of what was to develop into ESDP (Albright 1998). First, the Clinton team, despite briefings by British officials, had not immediately understood that Blair had undertaken a major revision of British security policy. On the one hand the US ‘believed that it still could trust the United Kingdom not to do anything that would hurt the Alliance [but on the other hand    ] officials felt that the British had not been one hundred per cent transparent about the likely outcome’ (Sloan 2000: 15–16). One US official described the initial confusion as follows: ‘There was a preconceived notion in the US that the British and Tony Blair are the co-owners of the holy grail, of NATO, and Blair had violated that presupposition, which led some people to ask whether Britain is changing its allegiance.’4 Second, the mindset of individuals within the Clinton administration is also important. Key figures perceived the Clinton administration as being one of the most pro-European administrations in a long time, committed to revamping the transatlantic alliance and decidedly supportive of further European integration. ‘We thought: how can anybody question the pro-European credentials of this administration?’5 Against this background, Secretary Albright’s article was seen as defining a rather large space for the St Malo initiative to develop in. The April 1999 summit communiqué and the new strategic concept adopted at the NATO summit are important documents with regards to

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how the Clinton administration attempted to define the rationale for ESDI. The summit communiqué makes no less than three references to the fact that ESDI is supposed to be built within the Alliance (NATO 1999: pars. 4; 5; 41). Furthermore, the communiqué entailed language that was designed to further impress the point that NATO should be the institution of choice. The EU’s aspiration to acquire a capacity for autonomous action should enable it to ‘take decisions and approve military action where the Alliance as a whole is not engaged’ (Ibid.: par. 9a). The communiqué even included a version of the list of American concerns expressed in Albright’s December 1998 article (Ibid.: par. 9c-e). After analysing the Presidency Conclusions adopted in June 1999 at the EU’s Cologne summit, the Clinton team ‘concluded that the European Union had broken trust’ (Hunter 2002: 57). First, whereas the allies at the Washington summit had determined that NATO should remain the instrument of choice for crisis management and collective defence tasks, the Presidency Conclusions suggested a division of labour. Stressing that the EU’s military effort is geared towards crisis management, the conclusions described NATO mainly in collective defence terms (European Union 1999). Second, the NATO summit in Washington – much in the same spirit as the 1996 Berlin agreement – saw NATO as enabling the EU to conduct certain missions by making assets and capabilities available if the alliance as a whole was not engaged. This suggested a certain hierarchy lost in the Presidency Conclusions, which instead announced that ‘the European Union will have to determine, according to the requirements of the case, whether it will conduct: EU-led operations using NATO assets and capabilities    or EUled operations without recourse to NATO assets and capabilities’ (European Union 1999). This was interpreted by the Clinton administration as treating both options as co-equal. Third, the Cologne EU conclusions did not explicitly state that NATO would have a so-called right of first refusal in crisis situations. This, however, had been alluded to in NATO’s Washington communiqué (NATO 1999). The document adopted in Cologne stated that the EU ‘must have the capacity for autonomous action, backed up by credible military forces, the means to decide to use them, and a readiness to do so, in order to respond to international crises without prejudice to actions by NATO’ (European Union 1999). This wording was perceived in Washington as signalling a weakening of NATO as the institution of choice. Taken together these three concerns led the Clinton administration to conclude that the overall balance between European autonomy and increased European capabilities tilted in the wrong direction: ‘There was a sense that we were getting all the autonomy without the capabilities when we wanted it the other way around.’6 This assessment, after a series of internal communications on the issues, was widely shared throughout the Clinton administration. By the end of August 1999 a new strategy based on this

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conclusion was blessed at senior working level stressing that the US position should be redefined in a more positive light and that an intense diplomatic effort should be launched to achieve this.7 Then US Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott, in a crucial speech in London, restated US support in principle and then laid out the US position as follows: ‘We would not want to see an ESDI that comes into being first within NATO but then grows out of NATO and finally grows away from NATO’ (Talbott 1999). Then Secretary of Defence Cohen argued that the European ‘allies will have to spend more on defence, if they are to measure up to NATO’s military requirements and establish a European Security and Defence Identity that is separable but not separate from NATO’ (Cohen 1999). However, from the Clinton administration standpoint, the EU’s December 1999 Helsinki Presidency Conclusions reintroduced crucial language that addressed the most prominent concerns. After Helsinki, therefore, the Clinton administration thought ESDP had been realigned with the language on ESDI adopted at the Washington summit in April 1999.8 Public statements throughout 2000 confirm that the European initiative was back on track from a US standpoint (Albright and Cohen 2000). The Clinton administration now focused on establishing strong links between NATO and the EU. Secretary of Defence Cohen, in the second half of 2000, made forceful attempts to place planning for EU-led military missions firmly into NATO’s domain. Cohen even suggested creating a unitary NATO–EU defence planning system to avoid inefficiency and ensure complementarity between NATO and EU goals. In the same speech Cohen also stated that the US agreed with the development of ESDP ‘not grudgingly, not with resignation, but with wholehearted conviction’ (Cohen 2000). Barely eight weeks later Cohen travelled to the NATO headquarters in Brussels to deliver a stark warning that NATO would become irrelevant if ESDP developed as an autonomous institution in competition with NATO. In the words of former US Representative to NATO Robert Hunter, ‘no senior US administration official had gone so far before in publicly criticizing ESDP    It was the moment of maximum transatlantic strain’ (Hunter 2002: 107–8). What had happened to the positive approach the Clinton administration had adopted? First, the rephrasing of the American position in more positive language did not alter the degree of US concerns. Second, Secretary Cohen, after reaching out to the EU in his October speech, felt that the fall and winter of 2000 had brought more roadblocks than progress on a variety of issues (see: US Department of Defence 2000). Despite increasingly confident rhetoric on the part of the Europeans, ESDP had yet to yield tangible results in terms of military capabilities. The December 2000 remarks reflected a significant degree of frustration about this state of affairs, which, however, did not amount to a shift of policy of the Clinton administration.

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4. The Bush administration and ESDP The George W. Bush administration shared many of the concerns of the Clinton administration, but ESDP was less of a priority. Therefore, for the first two years, it was not a very active player after it had formulated its initial position of conditional support. This changed briefly in 2003 when the transatlantic debate about military intervention in Iraq and a series of events in Europe caused the American administration to revisit its assessment of ESDP. These new transatlantic dynamics reinforced the concerns that had been present all along regarding ESDP. When British Prime Minister Blair travelled to Washington to visit the new President in early 2001 the two leaders published a joint statement that, among other things, addressed the US position on ESDP: The United States welcomes the European Union’s Security and Defense Policy, intended to make Europe a stronger, more capable partner    This involves working with other EU members to establish and provide resources for an ESDP that improves Europe’s capabilities and enables the EU to act where NATO as a whole is not engaged; developing EU capabilities in a manner that is fully coordinated, compatible and transparent with NATO; providing for the fullest possible participation of non-EU European Allies in the consideration of EU-led operations. (White House 2001a) During his visit to the NATO Headquarters in Brussels in June 2001 Bush in essence repeated a position which clearly resembled earlier statements of both the Clinton and Bush Sr administrations (see: USIS 1991; Albright 1998): A strong, capable European force integrated with NATO would give us more options for handling crises when NATO, as a whole, chooses not to engage. NATO must be generous in the help it gives the EU. And similarly, the EU must welcome participation by NATO allies who are not members of the EU. And we must not waste scarce resources, duplicating effort or working at cross purposes. (White House 2001b) Looking at the Bush administration’s position on ESDP, observers agree that it is more positive than the position of the Clinton team. Schake argues that ‘despite misgivings about ESDP, [the Bush administration] has chosen not to fight about it’ (Schake 2003: 111). Sloan, while insisting that the Bush administration is largely passive on the issue, nonetheless labels its approach ‘benign neglect’ (Sloan 2003: 181). The assessment advanced by these scholars tracks with the administration’s own view of its policy on ESDP. A senior official explained it as follows: ‘We have the same concerns as

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the Clinton administration did, [but]    what this administration is trying to do is to take out its part of the ideological debate [about ESDP].’9 Why would the same concerns produce a more positive policy vis-à-vis ESDP when compared with the Clinton administration? It is important to point out that ‘what [Bush] endorsed is a very limited vision of ESDP – a backup peacekeeping force for cases where the United States does not want NATO involved’ (Schake 2003: 110). Accepting that the spring 2001 statements of President Bush define a guidepost for policy on ESDP, one observer argued that ‘the [Bush] administration was for once rather subtle    saying let’s be positive and support [ESDP] rather than saying no to the Europeans all the time.’10 Other scholars argued that the Bush administration was trying to focus on the substance of ESDP, that is, on the question of military capabilities. According to this view, the possibility of ESDP generating more European capacity in the military realm made the Bush administration welcome the initiative (Moens 2003: 35). The problem with this reasoning was that there were no meaningful signs of this taking place. Therefore, the capabilities argument seemed more likely to support the third line of thinking, which suggested that the Bush administration simply did not care enough about ESDP to fight about it. Precisely because ESDP did not yield significant increases in European military capabilities, the administration did not deem it worth its time. ESDP was not a big issue: ‘It is an egghead issue    It is an exercise in photocopying machines. Words on paper. So far, very little capabilities have been created.’11 This third line of thought clearly has to be located within the overall security priorities of the Bush administration. Europe never was the strategic centre and focus of the Bush administration. The 11 September, 2001 terrorist attacks on the US and the subsequent campaign against global terrorism have caused ESDP to slip further down the agenda. Given that the US is preoccupied with the nexus between international terrorism, rogue nations and weapons of mass destruction, ESDP, even if yielding military capabilities, was not seen as being able to address what the US is concerned about. The conclusion to be drawn is that the initial response to ESDP formulated by the Bush administration did not portray the ultimate parameters of the administration’s approach. In 2003 French and German-led resistance to a US-led invasion of Iraq as well as difficulties in securing the deployment of defensive capabilities to Turkey through NATO, caused the Bush administration to re-evaluate who was leading ESDP and for what purposes. The fact that countries like France, and to a lesser extent Germany, were willing to undertake what was perceived as actions undermining NATO in order to check US power raised a significant concern. The suspicion that ESDP could turn out to be a French-designed plot to undermine NATO regained adherents in the US government.12

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When the heads of state and government of Belgium, France, Germany and Luxembourg met on 29 April, 2003 on the heals of the divisive debate over Iraq to discuss ideas of how to advance ESDP, the situation worsened. Given the timing of the meeting and the composition of the group bringing together the Iraq-critics in Europe, the meeting turned into a public relations disaster in the United States. The context of the meeting mattered more than the substance of the proposals made. As one observer explained, ‘from an American point of view, [the four countries] were both trying to be rude to America and being weak    That is the worst thing to be in international politics, both weak and secretly despise your patron of the last 50 years.’13 Perhaps more surprising, the French-led EU mission, Artemis, in Congo was also seen as reinforcing existing concerns in some quarters of the Bush administration. Then US ambassador to the EU, Rockwell Schnabel, intervened repeatedly in Brussels to demand closer consultations with Washington on the question of the Congo mission (Didzoleit and Koch 2003). According to interviews with US officials these interventions were to remind the EU members of the existence of the Berlin Plus agreement and of the fact that the US would have agreed to an EU-led mission using NATO assets. The fact that ESDP was becoming less abstract in general – symbolized by the first civilian and military missions under the ESDP heading – was welcomed in Washington and mitigated other US concerns. The Bush administration judged the police mission in Bosnia and the military mission in Macedonia to be marginally helpful. The EU Security Strategy, formulated by Javier Solana, represented the only development in 2003 that was clearly perceived to be positive from an American point of view. Officials and experts alike argued that the document demonstrated to the US government that there was potential to agree on a common framework for threat analysis. The EU opened the door to preventive action thereby providing for transatlantic agreement on the point that some threats, like international terrorism, might not be ‘deterrable’.14 The developments of 2003 discussed above raised ESDP to a higher level of attention for policy-makers in Washington after the issue had slipped off the agenda during 2002. However, most of this increased attention had a negative connotation. When the US Ambassador to NATO, Nicholas Burns, called European plans for greater autonomy in security and defence policy ‘the most significant threat to NATO’s future’, Europeans – irritating as the dramatic language was – should not have been surprised (quoted in EvansPritchard and Helm 2003). During 2004 and into 2005 this pattern by and large continued. With messy post-combat operations in Iraq and the 2004 US election, ESDP was clearly not a primary concern. On the other hand, continued advances in ESDP remained a constant irritation. When EU member governments decided to establish the nucleus of an autonomous military planning cell, US policy-makers feared a negative impact on NATO – despite the fact that the

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cell was very limited in size and furthermore physically located at SHAPE. The so-called battle groups initiative – as such actually a sign that EU governments focused more on creating capabilities – received a mixed blessing for the same reason (Romic 2004; Strange 2004; Walker 2004). When French leaders insisted on an independent EU role alongside NATO in airlift operations in Sudan, US officials were appalled (Wielaard 2005). Overall, these developments made EU autonomy a less abstract and more palpable concept. The fact that the EU took over peace-keeping duties from NATO in Bosnia at the end of 2004 fits the pattern as well, but can be counted on the side of positive developments as far as American perceptions are concerned. However, wider issues in the security and defence realm do reinforce the underlying American concerns. Before French and Dutch voters put a hold on the EU constitution in the 2005 referenda, the American debate about the potential negative impact of the constitutional treaty on NATO because of its defence policy implications spiralled widely out of control (see: Cimbalo 2004; Callanan 2005). The prospect of the EU lifting its arms embargo on China ran into strong American opposition both in the administration and in Congress (US Department of State 2005). The two examples demonstrated a mutual lack of understanding and low appreciation of policies and processes on both the American and European sides.

5. Concluding remarks American concerns with regards to ESDP proved to be remarkably stable over time, regardless of who occupied the White House. The substance was shared by all American governments dealing with the issue in spite of variations in rhetorical support for ESDP and the intensity with which US concerns were presented. Different levels of rhetorical support or concern seemed to be more dependent on the priority attached to ESDP and Europe in the conception of US foreign and security policy rather than a perceived solution or mitigation of American misgivings. Ambivalence is created by the underlying contradiction in the overarching US goal: to have a stronger European partner in security affairs who does not question the primacy of the transatlantic framework – and thus by extension the United States – in the military security and defence arena. Hence, As an external stimulus for the development of ESDP, the American response was not pointing into a clear direction because of this inherent ambiguity in the American position. However, as of late 2005 the Bush administration seemed to have finally concluded that, barring significant events or changes in European attitudes, ESDP is not important enough to loose sleep over. Together with the newfound desire for co-operation in transatlantic relations on both the European and the American side, this development makes it unlikely that President George W. Bush’s second term in office will witness allied shouting matches over ESDP.

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From the perspective of European foreign policy, ESDP seems to be an issue area where it would be more appropriate to speak of congruence rather than convergence for some time to come. The divide between Atlanticists and Europeanists makes for European ambivalence and causes American interlocutors to sift through competing rationales for ESDP. As such, ambiguity is not necessarily an insurmountable obstacle to progress as will be clear to most students of the European integration process. However, when travelling down the road to convergence, both European divisions and American concerns will continue to cause detours for ESDP.

Notes 1. This section makes use of various primary sources. All parliamentary protocols referred to in the cases of Britain and Germany can be found on the webpage of the House of Commons (http://www.parliament.uk/hansard/hansard.cfm) and the German Bundestag (http://www.bundestag.de/bic/plenarprotokolle/index.html). Given the dominance of the President in French security and defence policymaking, I have relied mostly on speeches by Jacques Chirac in the French case (all speeches cited are available at: www.elysee.fr). 2. See for examples: House of Commons 1999, 10 June, Col. 815–17; 22 November, Col. 379–81; 388; 400; 422; 2000, 22 November, Col. 320; 325; 2001, 11 July, Col. 877. 3. See Financial Times (2006): Paris hits out at UK ‘haggling’ on military funding, 14 November, p. 9. 4. Interview, Washington, DC. 5. Interview, Washington, DC. 6. Interview, Washington, DC. 7. Interview, Washington, DC. 8. Interviews, Washington, DC. 9. Interview, Washington, DC. 10. Interview, Washington, DC. 11. Interview, Washington, DC. 12. Interviews, Washington, DC. 13. Interview, Washington, DC. 14. Interview, Washington, DC.

5 Engaging China – Uniting Europe? EU Foreign Policy towards China May-Britt Stumbaum

In the next years we should focus particularly on developing strategic partnerships with [    ] China. These partners play an increasingly important role in their respective regions and beyond. European Security Strategy: 15 With the European Security Strategy adopted by the European Council in December 2003, ten years after the Maastricht Treaty came into force, the EU is clearly acknowledging China1 as a rising key player in the global arena and thus a major target of the European Union’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) (European Council 2003). The rapid rise of China challenges the EU’s economic power and competitiveness as well as its political influence: China is now the EU’s second biggest trading partner behind the US, with exports almost tripling between 1999 (E19.6 billion) and 2005 (E51.7 billion), and a massive trade deficit of E106 billion in 2005 (European Commission 2006). Furthermore, China is still the main beneficiary of European development aid, as well as a major competitor in industrial manufacturing, thus placing the European labour market under pressure. What is more, China is an increasingly confident, emerging global actor, and the recent arms embargo has proved that relations with China cannot be dealt with through a solely economic prism:2 by overlooking the security implications of lifting the arms embargo, the EU found itself engaged in an acrimonious discussion with its major ally, the US, leaving the world with the impression of a disunited European Union, prone to acting rashly. Thus, the case of China highlights to what extent incoherent European policies may damage long-standing strategic interests of the EU and weaken the EU’s stance at the global level. A common foreign and security policy towards China should therefore be an essential part of the EU’s effort to become a global player. The reasons for the EU’s inability to implement a coherent foreign policy towards China are multifold: as all functions other than trade are jealously 57

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guarded by the member states, the EU’s approach towards the People’s Republic of China (PRC) is biased towards economics, but lacks an overall political vision. Business, on the other hand, is one of the major fields of competition among member states that perceive China primarily as a huge business opportunity. However, such competition prevents better coordination of European efforts and therefore undermines achievement of an influential European Foreign and Security Policy. European policy so far originates from a congruence of interests, rather than from a convergence of the foreign policies of individual EU member states. Hence, despite the ambitious declarations, the EU is struggling to build a Common Foreign and Security Policy capable of encompassing and co-ordinating the member states’ activities, and of exploiting the full potential of Europe. Relations between the EU and China provide a good example of how national interests prevail in a European Union without a superseding supranational government, partly undermining a coherent common foreign and security policy. In theory, the EC has adopted a progressive co-operation strategy that transcends the more ‘traditional’ approach of development assistance that focuses more narrowly on reducing poverty. Making the most of its limited resources, the EU’s strategy aims at engaging China by supporting the country’s transition in areas in which the Union can offer unique expertise, gained from its own experience, such as managing reform (institutional reform and human resources development), co-operation on the environmental front and on issues related to the rule of law, good governance, and human rights. It is also geared to creating synergies with individual EU member states pursuing initiatives along the same lines, albeit often parallel, to those of the Commission of the European Community (CEC). While smaller and new member states tend to participate actively in CEC strategies, the Big Three (Germany, France and the UK) frequently stray from the European route in order to pursue national goals. Co-ordination between member states’ activities and EC programmes still appears to pose a difficult challenge as member states perceive the Union not as a means in itself but as just one more tool at their disposal with which to pursue their specific interests.3 Inconsistent policies and the inability to co-ordinate the activities of the EC and of individual member states make it very difficult to turn economic weight into political influence, to transform the economic giant into a global political actor. Although recent experiences of trade conflicts, forced technology transfers, the unresolved question of Intellectual Property Rights (IPR) and other issues has triggered off more sober re-assessments on the EU and the member states’ side, the European Union is still an ‘easy catch – easy to read, easy to manipulate, and difficult to take seriously in the long run’ (Sandschneider 2002: 44). After a brief historical introduction and an overview of the communications and programmes underpinning EU–China relations, this chapter will present three case studies in the dominant fields of Sino-EU relations: trade,

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security and the promotion of human rights. As the ‘Big Three’ are not only the most influential countries within the EU framework, but also the most active in China and those that face the strongest temptation to go their own way, the case studies will focus on the interplay between the activities of the EU, through the CEC, and those of the ‘Big Three’.

1. Historical background Ties between Europe and China date back several centuries (Algieri 1999) and were shaped by colonialism (the British colony of Hong Kong was returned in 1997, the Portuguese colony of Macao in 1999) and, more recently, by the systemic confrontation of the Cold War. The former Warsaw Pact states of Central and Eastern Europe recognized the People’s Republic of China only a few days after its foundation, on 1 October, 1949 but the rapidly intensifying co-operation came to a halt with the Sino-Soviet split in 1960, only to resume after 1989. As regards Western European countries, the UK, Sweden, Denmark, Finland and Norway recognized China in the 1950s, but ambassadors were not exchanged until the 1970s. France was the first country to establish full diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic in 1964. Exchanges between the PRC and the European Economic Community (EEC), as part of the European Political Co-operation, increased steadily in the early 1970s leading to the establishment of official relations by European Commissioner Sir Christopher Soames in Beijing in May 1975, four years after China’s admission to the United Nations in 1971. SinoEuropean co-operation led to the first Sino-European Trade Agreement in 1978, later completed and replaced by a Trade and Economic Co-operation Agreement in 1985.4 Following a period of regular contacts within the framework of the EEC’s Political Co-operation with the PRC, the European Community opened its official Delegation of the Commission in Beijing on 4 October, 1988. As a reaction to the Tiananmen Square massacre the European Community froze its relations with China and imposed sanctions5 against the country at the European Council of 4 June, 1989. Following strong pressures by EU member states (France had unilaterally breached the sanctions already in December 1989), most sanctions were gradually lifted and EU – China relations were re-established in October 1990. Only the arms embargo has remained in place. The Big Three and the People’s Republic of China Germany is the PRC’s largest trading partner in the EU and views China first and foremost as a huge business opportunity. The German Federal Republic established relations with China originally in 1972. Relations developed smoothly until the German government reduced the rapport to routine contacts and imposed sanctions in response to the crack-down against

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the Tiananmen Square student protests in June 1989. A meeting on the side of the UN General Assembly in 1990 led to full restoration of diplomatic contacts. In 1993 Germany bolstered the PRC’s ‘One-China’ stance by preventing the sale of submarines to Taiwan. Despite the blossoming relationship, different opinions on human rights lead to setbacks from time to time, although Germany takes great care to avoid openly attacking China in order not to compromise mutual economic advantages. The relationship is underpinned by regular state visits, including an annual visit to China by the German Chancellor. Besides trade Germany and the PRC co-operate intensely in the technological sector, encouraging joint projects between the various national governmental bodies and research institutes. ‘European Year’ for China’s diplomacy in 2004 saw the upgrading of the Sino-German relationship to ‘strategic partnership’, as officially declared, and the opening of a hotline between heads of state, following in the steps of France’s previous agreement with the PRC. Since 2003 regular meetings between the countries’ Prime Ministers are also a fixture. At the parliamentary level Germany and China have established an increasingly active dialogue forum. France sees China as a great business opportunity, but also as a strategic partner within its vision of a multi-polar world, although China’s and France’s definitions of a multi-polar world differ. France was the first country to establish full diplomatic relations with China at the ambassadorial level in January 1964, but the smooth relationship suffered a severe setback when France sold Mirages 2000-5s and La Fayette-class frigates to Taiwan in the early 1990s. Economic exchange is highlighted by the sale of Airbus aircraft to China, and France’s co-operation in technological sectors such as atomic power, renewable energy sources, and artificial intelligence. Traditionally weaker cultural ties were recently intensified by the ‘Chinese Culture Year’ declared in France in 2003–4, the largest cultural exchange between China and Europe to date. First among European countries France established its ‘strategic partnership’ with the PRC in 1997 and has since set up a hotline between the heads of state. The UK sees China through the prism of its global ambitions as a strategic partner. However, Sino-British relations were dominated, and are still influenced, by the issue of Hong Kong. Although Britain was one of the first Western European states to recognize the PRC (in 1950), full diplomatic relations were not commenced until March 1972. In the run-up to the 1997 handover of the former British crown colony of Hong Kong to the PRC, under the ‘one nation – two system principle’, relations came under strain owing to the different political visions of Hong Kong’s future. Relations eased under the Blair government. The UK perceives China as not only an important trade partner but also as holding very high strategic relevance given that both countries sit permanently on the UN Security Council. In May 2004 Tony Blair and Wen Jiabao officially announced the upgrading of Sino-British relations to ‘strategic partnership’, implementing a mechanism

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of mutual visits by the respective heads of government and foreign ministers. Complementing the government’s initiative the UK–China interaction group of the British parliament has also started to plan activities.

2. Scope and drivers of EU–China co-operation Driven by the experience of the ‘Japanese Challenge’ dating back to the early 1970s, and by new momentum in the aftermath of the Maastricht Treaty to promote the EU as a global actor, the Union has elaborated its China policy over several strategy papers and is interacting with China bilaterally as well as regionally on numerous programmes. The overall strategy of the EU pursues five goals: further engaging China, both bilaterally and multilaterally, through upgraded political dialogue; supporting China’s transition to an open society, based on the rule of law and on respect for human rights; encouraging China’s integration in the world economy by bringing it fully into the world trade system; supporting the process of ongoing economic and social reform in China; and, finally, raising the EU’s profile in China. Papers, programmes and high-level summits: creating lasting momentum Despite the recent proliferation of Communiqués on China the main legal basis for the relationship is still the 1985 four-page bilateral trade and economic co-operation agreement,6 heavily trade-biased, which established a joint committee as the central body guiding Sino-EU relations. This committee meets twice a year and, although it has proved efficient in addressing economic issues, it is clearly insufficient when considering the increasing political scope of the relationship (Barysch 2005: 9). The Commission’s strategy is built on national papers, in particular on the German ‘Asienkonzept’ of 1993, and the EU’s Asia strategy paper of 1994. After adopting a strategy paper on ‘A Long-Term Policy for China-Europe Relations’ in 1995, the Commission issued a further policy paper in 1998 on ‘Building a Comprehensive Partnership with China’, and a Communication in 2001 on ‘EU Strategy Towards China: Implementation of the 1998 Communication and Future Steps for a More Effective EU Policy’, followed by the 2003 Communication ‘A Maturing Partnership: Shared Interests and Challenges in EU–China Relations’. On 24 October, 2006 the Commission issued its most recent Communication to the Council and the European Parliament on ‘EU–China: Closer Partners, Growing Responsibilities’ that mirrors the spreading disenchantment on the European side. As a multi-annual planning and strategy document, the Commission approved the ‘China Country Strategy Paper’ (CSP) 2002–6 on 25 February 2002. Its objectives and projects are contained in the National Indicative Programmes (NIP) 2002–4 and 2005–6. The latter reflects the lessons learned from the mid-term review of the first three years of the CSP programme. The

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European Union’s objectives are translated into action in the ‘China Country Strategy Paper’, which still serves as the most comprehensive document on EU–China relations and contains concrete programmes to turn declarations into deeds. It also serves for subsequent evaluation to measure the progress in EU–China relations. Its programmes are geared to supporting China’s transformation process by means of a variety of projects at the bilateral, regional and global level. Building on the 1998 and 2001 documents, and within the framework of the ALA Regulation for developing countries in Asia and Latin America,7 the European Commission has adopted a ‘Country Strategy Paper 2002–6’ for China with a budget of around E50 million, indicatively allocated to support EU programmes in China between 2002 and 2006 (CSP 2002: 51). The ‘Country Strategy Paper’ is used as an instrument for guiding, monitoring and reviewing EU assistance. Within this framework the European Union is pursuing three major goals in its efforts to assist the Chinese transformation process: economic and social reform, sustainable development and good governance. With the mid-term review of the CSP and the NIP, the Commission has identified three priority areas for the remaining years until 2006: first, support of the social and economic reform process, focusing primarily on China’s integration in the world trading system, on providing expertise in information and communications technology, on social security (pensions, health, unemployment insurance), and on the development of human resources through the exchange and training of managers and the participation of Chinese students in the ‘Erasmus Mundus’ programme; secondly, the EC is providing its outstanding expertise on the environment and sustainable development; finally, good governance and strengthening of the rule of law. While the latter is a core issue for the EC, it has proved to be one of the most difficult issues to take on, owing to the unwillingness of the Chinese. In addition to this bilateral EU–China co-operation programme, the EU entertains several regional assistance programmes that are also open to China. Furthermore, the EU offers assistance through its worldwide thematic programmes, from which the People’s Republic can also benefit. In the framework of the EU Human Rights and Democracy Programme (EIDHR), four projects address China, while eight other projects in the country are currently being supported through the Community’s non-governmental organization (NGO) co-financing programme. Also, emergency aid has been granted by the European Community Humanitarian Aid Office (ECHO). The EU is now the largest development aid supplier, China’s biggest trade partner (and China, in turn, is the second biggest for the EU), and the fourth largest originator of Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) (Eurostat 2006). EU–China relations are now underpinned by regular high-level summits and, for the first time in the history of the People’s Republic, by foreign policy papers on both sides. Since the first EU–China Summit in the course of the

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second ASEM meeting in London in 1998, the EU and China have met on an annual basis at a high level, on occasion of bilateral EU–China summits. In the run-up to the sixth EU–China summit, which took place in October 2003 at the highest level for the first time, the European Commission endorsed a new policy paper on ‘A Maturing Partnership: Shared Interest and Challenges in EU-China Relations’. On occasion of the eighth Sino-EU summit in Beijing, a new EU–China strategic dialogue was established at the vice ministerial level, and the first official meeting took place in London in December 2005. The Chinese government has underlined its appreciation of the EU’s efforts and of the sound development of bilateral relations by publishing ‘China’s EU Policy Paper’, the first official foreign policy paper ever to be published by the People’s Republic of China. Although the wording of this document is rather vague, the symbolism counts: in addition to showing that it values the EU as a partner and is willing to intensify co-operation, the People’s Republic of China also sends a signal of increasing transparency and predictability to the European Union. Beijing is now unambiguously supporting a stronger Europe (although not strong enough to challenge China) as part of its policy of pursuing a multi-polar world, and hence a balancing bloc against the United States, the sole surviving superpower and the first priority of Chinese foreign policy. Despite increasingly close-knit co-operation, and although one of the major goals laid out in the EU’s ‘China Strategy Paper’ of 2002 is ‘making better use of European resources by improving co-ordination between EU assistance and bilateral spending by member states’, co-ordinating the EC and individual member states still remains a difficult task. Moreover, Europeans seem to lack a comprehensive political vision of the SinoEuropean relationship: hence, for instance, albeit not surprisingly, no reference is made to a Common Foreign and Security Policy in the ‘Country Strategy Paper’ on China.8 As the US–China Congress Commission puts it, ‘although the European Union will continue to play a greater role in shaping a common foreign and security policy among member states, implementation of any comprehensive policy, especially for China, is complicated by the fact that while the EU has assumed significant responsibility for management of external trade relations, member states have retained final authority over security and foreign policy. While the EU is moving toward developing more common foreign and security policies, the most critical security-related decisions will be determined at the national level.’ (US China Economic and Security Commission 2005: iii). In terms of congruence and convergence, European policy will be showed below to derive from a congruence of interests, as opposed to a convergence, in the three most prominent areas of EU–China relations: trade and aid as the EU’s biggest claim to power, security as the core element of foreign policy, and the promotion of human rights as a major aspect of European foreign policy, as enshrined in Article V of the Treaty of Amsterdam.

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3. Three case studies: trade and aid, security and the promotion of human rights In the following paragraphs, EU–China policy will be investigated focusing on three areas: first of all, the area in which the EU has the most competence and experience, the so-called ‘low politics’ of trade and development aid; secondly, the ‘high politics’ of security, an increasingly important area for a post Cold War Union that is coming of age; and, finally, human rights, often considered a core value of Europe’s foreign policy, as expressed in the Amsterdam Treaty. 3.1 Low politics: trade and aid With trade being the most integrated policy field within the European Union, the EU’s leverage due to its economic weight should be substantial. However, as long as member states actively try to prevent the Commission from crossing the tight borders of its competence in the first pillar, such economic weight can hardly translate into political influence on China. Furthermore, as trade is the major interest in China of the larger European countries, European potential is undermined by the unilateral actions of the Big Three, more interested in gaining short-term economic advantages than in avoiding weakening the EU’s stance in the longer term. Fitting examples are the handling of issues such as the arms embargo, or human rights declarations at the United Nations. Within the strict confines of its competence, the Commission therefore tries to focus on the expertise the EU is best able to provide in support of China and European trade with the country, and thus on gaining political influence through the involvement of China in a broad range of assistance activities. The recent Communication, however, goes a step further and harbingers a slight change of tone in EU–China relations. The Commission, mainly driven by Peter Mandelson, underlines the EU’s intention to – if necessary – forcefully encourage China to play by the rules set by the WTO and to actively support and defend European interests vis-à-vis the People’s Republic (COM 2006). The European Union is China’s largest trade partner, and China the EU25’s second largest. Exports almost tripled between 1999 (E19.6 billion) and 2005 (E51.7 billion), and the massive trade deficit accounted to E106 billion in 2005 (European Commission 2006). Projects within the framework of the EU–China Co-operation Programme accommodate the strong economic focus of the relationship by supporting China’s transformation into a market economy in five areas: 11 projects under the heading of ‘Economic and Social Reform’ (the largest section) are currently taking on China’s integration into the world trade system, and putting in place adequate conditions in China itself through initiatives such as a business reform project, the China-Europe International Business School, vocational training, interpreter training, and so on. Following the recent mid-term

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review, these projects will be complemented by two initiatives on the front of the development of human resources: the EU–China Manager Exchange and Training Programme, and a China Window as part of the EU’s ‘Erasmus Mundus’ programme. Projects under the heading ‘Rule of Law and Good Governance’ also focus primarily, though not exclusively, on improving business conditions; programmes include co-operation in the area of intellectual property rights (a prickly topic in Sino-European relations) and the legal and judicial realm, as well as programmes geared to improving public administration. ‘Environment and Sustainable Development’ projects focus on emissions control, waste management, forest management, and energy and environmental issues, attempting to mitigate the impacts of fast-paced economic growth. Furthermore, co-operation projects are also included in ‘Regional Programmes’ such as ‘Asia-Invest’, ‘Asia Information Technology’ and ‘Communication Programme’. Central elements of EU–China co-operation are bilateral agreements (maritime transport, customs co-operation, and science and technology), sectoral dialogues in key economic areas (the environment, telecommunications and information society, energy, enterprise policy and regulation, Galileo satellite navigation, competition policy, intellectual property rights, education/human resources) and the EU–China Co-operation Programme. The main objectives of the EU’s Country Strategy Paper 2002–6 on China were reiterated on occasion of the mid-term review for 2005-6: the EU–China Co-operation Programme, worth a total of E250m (E140 remaining for the last two years), will focus on economic and social reforms (E75m, ∼50 per cent), sustainable development (E45m, ∼30 per cent) and good governance and civil society (E30m, ∼20 per cent) (CSP 2002: 51; NIP 2005: 4–6). Trade and aid relations: the Big Three Germany is China’s largest trade partner in Europe, and China is Germany’s main trade partner in Asia. In 2004 Germany exported goods to China for a total worth of E21 billion, ranking first among EU member states and accounting for 44 per cent of the EU-25’s total exports to the PRC (Eurostat 2005). This share declined in 2005, as German exports to China rose only slightly to E21.3 billion, whereas the EU25’s exports increased from E48.2 billion to E51.8 billion (Federal Statistical Office 2006/European Commission 2006a). Like all other EU states except Finland, Germany is faced with a mounting trade deficit, which rose in 2005 to E18.61 billion (Federal Statistical Office 2006). As pointed out by Prime Minister Wen, Sino-German trade currently accounts for 40 per cent of total trade between China and Europe. Since 1993 German Chancellors have regularly turned into commercial travellers immediately upon setting foot on Chinese soil. Despite Gerhard Schröder’s claims in 1998, when he took office, that he would deal differently with China, Germany’s openly declared goal is still to sign as many contracts as possible. What’s more, the economic exchange is

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hardly leveraged in a broader framework to promote the respect of human rights (see the final section). The German Chancellor and his top ministers visit the People’s Republic at least once a year, and no other country outside Europe has been visited as often as China by the Chancellor. Furthermore, today Germany is the most important EU donor to China. Its programmes are now concentrated on supporting economic and structural reform (including vocational training), protection of the environment and resources, water and waste management, and rail-bound transport (CSP 2002: 21). France follows Germany in the ranking, albeit with only E6.5 billion in exports and E14.5 billion in imports, and a share in 2005 of 4.7 per cent of the EU-25’s total exports to the PRC (Eurostat 2006). China is the main cause of France’s trade deficit, estimated at E5 billion in 2005. The main sectors of exchange are energy, automobiles, chemistry, light industry, and food processing. The flagship of Sino-French business is Airbus. As regards aid and co-operation programmes, French activities encompass science and technology, education, legal and judicial projects, and cultural and audiovisual projects. Trade contracted in the wake of France’s sale of military equipment to Taiwan in the early 1990s but rose back up after France pledged in 1994 to prohibit further French arms exports to Taiwan. The United Kingdom is the EU-25’s fourth largest exporter to China and ranks second as importer, reporting the largest trade deficit with the PRC, of E20.6 billion in 2005 (Eurostat 2006/UK Trade and Investment 2006). The UK’s main economic gateway to China is still Hong Kong, and the Special Administrative Region still features prominently in the strategic co-operation between the two countries, emphasized on occasion of the meeting of SinoBritish heads in May 2004. In its comprehensive co-operation with China, the UK focuses primarily on the development of human resources (including education and healthcare), the environment, and the support of economic and administrative reforms. All three member states (as well as all the other EU member states with major interests in China) fuel their efforts with frequent high profile trips to China, very often accompanied by large delegations of national industrialists, while forsaking co-ordination with other EU partners. As put by an official of the German foreign office, European partners are ‘informed’ of the planned trips of national delegations, but there is no co-ordination: ‘Our main interest in China is economic, and on the economic front we are still competitors’.9 This tendency is confirmed by the proliferation of Chambers of Commerce and delegations to China. In addition to the European Chamber of Commerce and the extensive activities of the EC delegation in Beijing, including a well-developed website, most member states have very active national Chambers of Commerce in Beijing, and some have already established special Chinese Business Councils with bilingual web portals10 to support their activities, once again, not surprisingly, with no co-ordination with, or cross references to, their EU partners.

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While the activities of member states and of the European Commission are understandably focused on economic aspects, given the sheer scope of the Chinese market, and assistance programmes geared to the market as a result, such inconsistency makes European countries easy to be played against each other. China’s skill on this front, aimed at obtaining better prices and high-tech transfers to the PRC, is fittingly proved by bidding on large infrastructural projects such as the Beijing–Shanghai high-speed railway, with the French TGV, the German ICE, and the Japanese Shinkansen racing against each other. Furthermore, several incidents prove that where the Europeans underline the division between the economic and the political sphere, the Chinese use economic baits to achieve political goals. When Denmark, following consultations with its European partners, proposed a motion with the UN Human Rights Commission to condemn the People’s Republic for its ongoing violations, the action was blocked by France (not without the support of other countries), which was subsequently rewarded with an extensive Airbus deal, while Sino-Danish relations subsequently cooled (Sandschneider 2002: 40). However, if the Commission and individual member states act in concert, as was exemplarily the case with the rapidly intensifying textile conflict in the spring of 2005, China often proves ready to soften its stances when confronted with coherent and strong demands from the EU, and the clear will and capacity to act (Barysh 2005: 45). Lack of coherence, on the other hand, prevents economic power from translating into political leverage. 3.2 High politics: co-operation in security affairs Despite the ambitious wording of the European Security Strategy, security considerations are lacking in the EU’s approach towards China. Deferent to the member states’ sensitivity to crossing competences, the Commission made no reference to security policy in the Country Strategy Paper, where grand words could have been used, despite China’s increasing exchange with NATO, bilateral military exchanges between member states and China, and ambitious business projects with security implications. Although the EU is actively engaged in security arrangements in the region, for instance through CSCAP, the security impacts of some of the EU’s actions, such as lifting the arms embargo, or of business projects such as Galileo, are not openly addressed, if at all. Co-operation without co-ordination Since the mid-1990s the EU has intensified foreign and security policy co-operation at the government and expert level within the track-one framework of the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), and the Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM), as well as on track two with the Council for Security and Co-operation in Asia-Pacific (CSCAP), and the Council for Asia– Europe Co-operation (CAEC). Furthermore, the EU has also set up a SinoEU bilateral dialogue on disarmament and arms control and, in 2005, a

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‘strategic dialogue’ at vice-ministerial level. However, overall references to bilateral security co-operation remain rather weak.11 Military exchanges and joint manoeuvres, which would underpin the declarations with practical measures, are already a reality, but strictly on a bilateral basis, and lack co-ordination. Germany has held several rounds of high-level consultations on security and defence issues with China, underpinned by visits of high-ranking military including the German Chief of Defence Staff, and civilian representatives such as the Inspector General of the Armed Forces and the German defence minister. Germany has also been training Chinese military officers at its Hamburg-based Academy. The first seminar with high-ranking generals from Germany and the PRC took place in Germany in 2005 and the second in China in October 2006. Furthermore, the two countries have put in place a regular anti-terror mechanism. In 1997 France and China established a strategic dialogue and have held annual consultations ever since, complemented by the training of Chinese military officials and a Sino-French joint military exercise in the Yellow Sea in March 2004, the first ever joint naval manoeuvre between China and a Western country. France tops the rank of military exchanges between EU member states and the PRC. Since 2003 the UK entertains annual strategic security dialogue rounds with the PRC, and has also been training Chinese military officials (see Shambaugh 2004). Following France’s example the UK engaged in a Sino-British joint maritime search-and-rescue exercise in June 2004. While these initiatives are increasing the total number of Sino-European exchanges, they lack the necessary co-ordination to be integrated into a broader European strategy, which could full exploit these efforts. The EU’s plans to begin military exchanges will remain on the drawing board and not only prove the lack of a detailed strategy, but reveal another of the European Union’s shortfalls, in terms of the cautious development of European military capabilities and expertise: whom should it set forth in exchanges with the People’s Liberation Army (PLA)? In line with national sensitivities in the field of defence, member states prefer to conduct exchanges bilaterally, therefore retaining command of the exchange, and profiling their individual interests vis-à-vis China. Apart from lack of co-ordination, the missing link between increasing activities in this area and an overall strategy, also belies the extent to which EU member states and the Commission underestimate the implications of EU actions, such as lifting the arms embargo, on security policy. Lifting the arms embargo: simply a symbolic action? Of all the EU sanctions imposed in 1989 following the bloody Tiananmen Square crackdown, only the provision ‘and an embargo on trade in arms with China’12 is still in place. Engaged in drastically modernizing its army, China

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has increased its defence budget at a pace of 10 per cent a year over the last 15 years. Its military spending stood at US$36–70 billion in late 2005, based on market exchange rates, or US$150–190 billion at like-for-like purchasing power. Depending on the set of data considered, the PRC’s defence budget is respectively the world’s third and second largest. Because of the sanctions China has been forced to develop its own weapons and to buy from the Russians, meeting 80 per cent of Chinese requirements (Umbach 2005).13 As the ‘strategic relationship’ between China and the EU becomes progressively sounder, China has intensified its requests that the arms embargo be lifted. The debate over lifting the arms embargo has openly divided EU member states. While some countries, led by France and Germany, demand that the embargo be lifted, other countries such as Denmark and Sweden have opposed the action, pointing out the grave situation of human rights in the country. The UK has played an ambiguous role, first remaining silent in order not to anger the US, and then expressing a favourable view on the lifting of the embargo in the spring of 2005, in order to prevent the issue being taken on under the UK presidency in the second half of 2005. During their respective visits to the PRC Germany and France both declared unilaterally that the embargo was obsolete and should be lifted. Germany emphasized that lifting the embargo would not lead to an increase of European arms sales to China as the EU member states would be bound by the 1998 EU Code of Conduct. However, this Code of Conduct is only binding in political, and not legal, terms. Furthermore, it does not cover dual-use high technology, which can be used for military as well as civilian purposes, and serve as ‘force multiplier’ by increasing the capabilities of older weapon systems.14 Finally, European efforts to allay US fears over a Chinese weapons build-up, were contradicted by the French minister of Defence Michèle Alliot-Marie, who argued that the Europeans should hurry up and lift the embargo as otherwise China would begin developing arms itself, acquiring the necessary technological know-how (Smith 2005: 3). Moreover, the mere prospect of the arms embargo being lifted has already helped China in its negotiations with Russia to acquire sensitive technology, formerly made unavailable by Russia owing to geo-strategic concerns. The focus of opponents of the action on the grave human rights situation in China misses the point that the EU as an emerging global actor must define its interests beyond the important but limited area of human rights. Rather than aggravating the domestic situation in China the kind of weapons China requests would modify the security scenario in East Asia as a whole, with particular reference to the Taiwan Strait. While calling for an end to the embargo the EU is vague in terms of what the European response would be to an escalating conflict between China and Taiwan. Similarly, supporters claim that lifting the embargo would be a ‘mere symbolic act’ with no practical consequences. To quote US Deputy Secretary of State Robert Zoellick: ‘As Europe becomes a larger player on a global stage, we urge it to consider some

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of the messages it sends. Why would Europe want to send that symbolic message to China at this point?’ (Bowley 2005). This highlights the impact these issues have on already strained US–European relations. In a report to the President of the US Senate and the Speaker of the House the US China Economic and Security Review Commission noted ‘the different level of priority and focus Europeans appear to place on the security dimensions of their overall relationship with China as compared to the United States’ (US China Commission 2004: iii). US strategic interests in the region15 have led to forceful threats of sanctions against the EU if the embargo is lifted. The European arms industry is heavily dependent on co-operation and exports, and would be severely hit by sanctions from the US. Only following intense lobbying from the business world, which feared repercussions on US companies, did the US Congress vote in July 2005 against an act that would have enabled the White House to sanction European companies selling arms to China. By assuming a more important role on the global stage the EU also has to take into account how its actions will be received by its major ally. This does not imply an automatic acceptance of US demands, but a clear concept of why certain frictions are provoked. In sum, the debate over lifting the embargo uncovers several aspects of the problematic nature of European security policy-making: the lack of a concerted approach by EU member states has weakened the European voice as the EU is now considered an unreliable partner by both China, which has been counting on French and German promises, and the United States, which protested vehemently against the lifting of the embargo. The bad handling of the case left a feeling of disappointment on both sides of the partnership, with the Chinese blaming the Europeans to be the ‘hostages of US pressure’. It also reveals the absence of a strategic concept for the EU’s role as a security actor, beyond the mantra of human rights. Lastly, it also sheds light on the lack of consideration on the impact such a move would have on the region, on what the EU’s stance would be if the Taiwan Strait conflict escalates, and what the impact would be on transatlantic relations. 3.3 The ‘European core value’: promoting human rights Human rights are often quoted as signalling a value-oriented European policy. The Commission’s 1995 China Strategy Paper clearly states that ‘human rights must be at the core of all EU foreign policy’. The question of human rights is also one of the prickliest in the ‘very serious engagement’ (former Commission President Romano Prodi) between China and the EU. Three policy guidelines can be observed in European politics: the Big Three prefer to deal with the question in non-public bilateral ‘human rights dialogues’ or leave the issue to the Commission. Smaller member states with smaller trade exchanges with China support human rights projects. European institutions suffer from a lack of influence, with the Commission

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having to bow to pressures exerted by both China and individual member states, and the European Parliament taking the opportunity to sharpen its profile in an area in which it has no competence. Human rights and the Big Three: business first Although France provided refuge to many Chinese dissidents after the Tiananmen crack-down, it was also the first unilaterally to breach EEC sanctions only six months later, in December 1989, opting to ‘change China through engagement’ and support blossoming business relations. As mentioned above, the priority of business interests over the promotion of human rights was also evident when Denmark, following an internal agreement in the EU, set forth a motion for a Resolution of the UN Human Rights Committee condemning the People’s Republic of China for human rights abuse in 1995. France, concerned not to jeopardize a profitable Airbus deal during Chinese Prime Minister Li Peng’s visit to Paris, blocked the anti-China EU resolution and any further initiative in that direction, subsequently gaining the support also of Spain, Italy, Greece and Germany (Schubert 2002: 21–8). Germany also concentrates most of its efforts on bilateral human rights dialogue, seeking to support change by training lawyers, and thereby pragmatically promoting the rule of law. Although public opinion is highly critical towards human rights violations and the situation in Tibet, human rights issues are regularly struck off the agenda of the Chancellor’s visits to China. The divide between public opinion and business opinion is mirrored by the different actions of the German Foreign Minister and Chancellor, with the then red-green government straying little from the path set out by its predecessors. Joschka Fischer, who very rarely visited China, was the only Minister to address human rights violations, only to receive, before an audience of journalists on occasion of his last visit in July 2004, an ad hoc 18-minute response from his Chinese colleague Li Zhaoxing, who asserted that China is not willing to be lectured by Germany. For his part, Gerhard Schröder, Chancellor at the time, tried to push the lifting of the arms embargo through against the stern resistance of his own Parliament. It remains to be seen to what extent the Grand Coalition might deviate from this policy of benign neglect with regards to human rights issues. The UK’s concern over the situation in Hong Kong makes for a separate case. Accordingly, the UK supports projects aiding NGOs and on occasion publicly declares its concern about the ongoing limitation of civil rights in Hong Kong. Apart from Hong Kong, the UK also prefers a discreet bilateral human rights dialogue, or in the words of a Beijing-based British diplomat, speaking off the record: ‘We do not talk about human rights. That would only harm our bilateral relations.’ Human rights issues are generally left to the EU, with the European Parliament seizing the opportunity, and the European Commission lacking the

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tools to motivate an unwilling Chinese counterpart. However, the most recent published Communication of the Commission harbingers some deviation from this path with the Commission openly complaining about the narrow limitations and output of the human rights dialogue (European Commission 2006: 4). Over the years, the European Parliament has skilfully responded to public opinion, making some headlines with its initiatives on Tibet and human rights issues, including the 1998 resolution calling for the appointment of an EU Special Representative for Tibet. The European Parliament, formally powerless in the second pillar of the European Union, has extensively seized the opportunities offered by critical aspects of the EU’s foreign relations, such as the human rights issue in Sino-EU relations, to enhance its profile in the eyes of the public. After the 2003 Summit, European parliamentarians expressed their ‘disappointment over the failure to mention Tibet and the ongoing human rights abuses there in the joint press statement issued after the conclusion of the sixth EU–China Summit held in Beijing’. Hans-Gert Pöttering, leader of the European People’s Party, added: ‘EU leaders have not raised the issues of [   ] Tibet, but we cannot airbrush the problems out’ (EUObserver 2003). Although a budget has already been allocated for the appointment of an EU Special Representative for Tibet, it is unlikely that the Commission and the Council will make any further moves in this direction, as an immediate angry reaction on China’s part would be inevitable. With regards to the lifting of the arms embargo the European Parliament has declared its opposition, exercising its purely moral power in second pillar decision-making. Not the best, but the only way? In spite of all the criticism, the response to Joschka Fischer’s remark in 2004 raises the question of what the most effective way of engaging China should be. The Chinese government has signed two fundamental UN pacts on economic, social and cultural rights (signed October 1997, ratified March 2001) and on civil and political rights (signed in October 1998, albeit excluding the critical point of establishing trade unions), and has committed to ratify and implement the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Under the new leadership the respect and protection of human rights has been included in the Chinese Constitution, at least on paper. By pursuing a strategy of engagement as opposed to confrontation, the EU and China set up a bilateral human rights dialogue in 1996, by Chinese initiative. Also, the third priority of the Country Strategy Paper is to improve on the current situation by promoting good governance and the rule of law, also through an EU–China Civil Society Co-operation Programme. However, the human rights dialogue, as well as individual member states’ bilateral human rights dialogues, are marred by the same difficulties: the very rigid

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format of the sessions, absence of high-level participants on the Chinese side, Chinese evasiveness when questioned on concrete issues, deficiency of follow-up actions, and the lack of any clear progress made on the field following up on the declarations made in the meetings (Barysch 2005: 59). In the CSP co-operation programmes the unwillingness of the Chinese to cooperate has led to a contraction of the programme on Civil Society, from E20 million to E10 million (NIP 2005: 6). This decrease underlines the inability of the CEC to force China to co-operate on issues they are less willing to confront (this is also true with regards to the reduction from E10 million to less than E1 million (NIP 2005: 6) of the budget allocated to a programme on Illegal Migration and Trafficking), as the CEC lacks the competence and the ability to conditionally link to such issues the benefits deriving from other EU programmes.

Conclusion The Sino-European relationship pays full testimony to the fact that the European Union, despite its status as an economic heavyweight, is at present structurally unable to transform the political dwarf into an adequate global player. China represents one of the biggest economic challenges and opportunities for Europe, but is also one of the most skilful countries in connecting business opportunities with political demands. With its strict separation between the supranational trade sector and the intergovernmental foreign and security policy on the one hand, and the lack of sanctioning power to force member states to conform to EU policies on the other, the European Union finds itself unable to translate the accumulated potential of European activities towards and in the People’s Republic of China into a coherent European policy, and hence into political influence. The promotion of human rights is just one of many examples of the persistent structural weakness of European efforts: EU strategies cannot be underpinned by attaching conditions to projects, due to the separation of competences within the EU and the lack of a more binding commitment of member states to adhere to the EU’s policies. One example, among many others, is the Commission’s inability to push forward Sino-EU co-operation in the fields of ‘Promotion of Civil Society’ and ‘Illegal Migration and Trafficking’, because of a lack of support from member states, as mentioned above, and hence leverage to enforce Chinese co-operation. However, being China’s biggest trade partner, the EU should have sufficient leverage to attach conditions to its programmes in order to promote its overall objectives in China. The textile quota conflict in spring 2005 showed that the EU is perceived as a strong trade body when it makes a display of unity. This was possible as the area in question fell within the Commission’s competences, and was hence supranational. Other examples, such as the UN resolution on human rights, show how easily the EU is weakened as a credible global

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actor if China manages to divide and reign by individually tempting member states with large business contracts. Instead of striving for an overarching European approach that would strengthen European negotiating power vis-à-vis an increasingly strong China, member states, and in particular the Big Three, will rather use the European Union as an additional tool at their disposal to further their own national interests, even at the expense of a coherent European approach. The European Union is used to create favourable framework conditions for (bilateral) trade, but also to deal with issues the member states are less interested in, so as to safeguard a climate of sympathetic co-operation with the PRC. Accordingly, the activities of the European Union originate from a congruence, rather than a convergence, of member states’ interests. Moreover, the debate over lifting the arms embargo and the resulting confrontation with the US, proved that the EU lacks the comprehensive political vision necessary to make the EU-25 a global actor. With its economic power and its reach the EU’s decisions obviously do have global repercussions, even if individual member states may feign otherwise. However, the ongoing disenchantment among the member states, that is reflected in the Commission’s October 2006 Communication, may give the impetus to close ranks and to work on a common approach. Forced by its own potential, by external expectations, by previous bitter experiences resulting from weakness, and by the manifest incapability of individual member states unilaterally to handle global challenges of such scope as China, the European Union will have to find a way to overcome its structural weakness. Indeed, as put by Javier Solana, the EU is ‘like it or not, a global actor’.

Notes 1. The EU, and all member states, adhere to the ‘One-China’ principle, that recognizes the People’s Republic of China and not the Republic of China. As a result, China is used here as a synonym for the People’s Republic of China (PRC), while the Republic of China (RoC) is referred to as ‘Taiwan’. 2. See also the overview of the embargo debate and on the necessity to have strategic dialogues (Casarini 2006: 37). 3. This impression derives from various interviews held with representatives from the embassies as well as from the European Commission in Beijing in April– May 2004. An interesting insight into the EC’s attempts to co-ordinate activities can be found in the annex to the Mid-Term Review of the National Indicative Programme, 2005–6, China, which entails protocols of the meeting between member state Councillors and the European Commission in Beijing. 4. This Agreement still serves as the basic framework for Sino-EC co-operation and has only recently been the object of renegotiation (see Barysch 2005: 9). 5. Sanctions included a ban on arms sales, suspension of high-level contacts and financial aid, reduction of cultural, scientific and technical co-operation, and extension of visas to Chinese students seeking asylum.

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6. At the ninth EU–China summit held in Helsinki on 9 September, 2006 the EU and China agreed to negotiate a new, comprehensive ‘Partnership and Co-operation Agreement’ to replace the 1985 EEC China Trade and Economic Co-operation Agreement (Council of the European Union 12642/06, § 4). 7. The ALA Regulation has been adopted as Council Regulation (EEC) 443/92 (25 February, 1992) on financial and technical assistance to, and economic co-operation with, the developing countries in Asia and Latin America. Guidelines for programmes are submitted by the Commission to a Committee of member state representatives (the ALA Committee) for its opinion. 8. The 2006 Communication hints in the right direction by offering a rather comprehensive approach encompassing trade and economic relations, sustainable development, people-to-people exchanges, bilateral and international/regional co-operation and security issues. The paper demands factoring ‘the China dimension into the full range of EU policies, external and internal’ ensuring a ‘close co-ordination inside the EU [for] an overall and coherent approach’ (p. 2). However, the Commission has called for more coherence before. Being still confined to the first pillar, the impact of its demands needs to be seen. 9. Quoted from a German diplomat, who had just returned from serving several years in Beijing, in a discussion shortly after Schröder’s visit to China in December 2003. 10. For instance France: www.ambafrance-cn.org ; Berlin: www.berlin-china.net 11. In the Country Strategy Paper China 2002–6, the EU uses vague wording to declare that engaging China more in the international arena ‘remains a priority for the Union’ (p. 12). Such vagueness is also present in the Communiqué of the seventh Sino-EU summit, which included the signing of a Joint Declaration on Non-Proliferation and Arms Control. 12. The full text of the sanctions can be found at http://projects.sipri.se/expcon/ euframe/euchidec.htm. 13. Figures taken from Frank Umbach (2005); differences stem from the limited reliability of the figures issued by the PRC. 14. The PRC is expected to spend E10 billion on these technologies over the next 5–10 years, see Umbach (2005: 74). 15. Apart from seeing China as a strategic rival the US is also committed by the Taiwan Relations Act of 1979, which guarantees US assistance to Taiwan in case of an aggression by the PRC.

6 EU Relations with Russia: Partnership or Asymmetric Interdependency? James Hughes

Introduction Policy convergence is often seen as an end in itself that is ubiquitously positive. The core theoretical assumption that underpins convergence is that the stronger the co-ordination of policy among co-operating states, the greater are the benefits and the more powerful will be the impact of the policy. Theory also suggests that optimum co-ordination requires a unitary actor. This norm is inherent in the deterministic logic of integration theory in regard to the erosion of national sovereignties and interests by multilateral convergence or congruence within the EU. To the normative and theoretical dimensions of integration we must add the role of contingency. Temporally contemporaneous and linked developments impelled the drive for greater integration in Europe: the collapse of communism, and the complex regime transitions and conflicts of the former communist states were accompanied by the acceleration of the EU’s transformation from an economic to a political union in the 1990s. The evolution of the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) is generally seen as one of the key institutional developments in the strengthening trend of convergence in response to changes in the regional and global order. But how much convergence has there been, and to what effect? The analysis of EU–Russia relations since the collapse of communism allows us to test the extent of foreign policy convergence by member states in a crucial external relationship. We begin by identifying the main contours of the issues that have shaped the EU’s policy on Russia, and then we evaluate the extent of policy convergence and the effectiveness of the institutional architecture that emerged in the EU to manage policy on Russia. The argument presented here is that EU policy convergence, consistency even, on relations with Russia has been weak for two main reasons: first, convergence has been hindered by poor co-ordinating technique on the part of the EU; and secondly, there has been a preference for bilateralism rather 76

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than multilateralism by the key member states. Furthermore, the EU–Russia relationship is heavily loaded with pragmatic calculations about the costs and benefits of an interdependency of trade, that trumps concerns over other more value-based issues, such as democratization and human rights (especially for the EU as regards the conflict in Chechnya). Moreover, over time the pragmatism in the relationship has become more pronounced, as policy interactions increasingly focus on the promotion and management of economic co-operation at the expense of more normative issues. Consequently, the EU–Russia relationship has become increasingly characterized by asymmetric interdependency over time due to the high degree of EU dependency on Russian energy exports and the EU’s need for security and stability in this policy domain. In contrast, Russia’s policy toward the EU is shaped less by the material benefits of this regional trade, since energy is a global market, but is also concerned with bolstering the broader geostrategic role of the EU as a counter-balance to US power in Europe and globally, and of instrumentally developing a strong relationship with the EU as a means of achieving recognition and legitimacy for post-communist regime changes in Russia.

1. Stages in EU–Russia relations The impetus for greater convergence in EU foreign policy-making was given an enormous boost by the fall of the Soviet Union in late 1991. The Treaty of Maastricht (1992) was agreed at the historical juncture when communism was collapsing eastward from Central and Eastern Europe to shatter the USSR itself. Consequently the Maastricht treaty was designed with the problems of the EC of the 1980s in mind, rather than to address the institutional changes that would be required in the EU to meet the challenges of a post-communist Europe. The framework of EU–Russia relations after 1991 has been dominated by geo-strategic changes in their relative power, illustrated principally by the twin processes of the expansion of Western influence into what was the former ‘Soviet bloc’ through the EU and NATO enlargements (processes that were completed in 2003 and 2004). Moreover, the enlargements of the EU to Finland in 1995 and the Baltic states in 2004 gave the EU and Russia a territorial interface, thus literally making them neighbours. The policy response of the EU to post-communist changes in Russia may be considered as developing in three overlapping stages, though it is important to note that this staged development was reactive rather than being a planned strategy by the EU. In the first stage, the period immediately following the collapse of the USSR in 1991, EU policy was formulated on the basis of a conceptual re-division of post-communist Europe. To manage the post-communist transitions, the EU decoupled the central and eastern European states, which were regarded as likely candidates for EU membership in the near term, from Russia and the Former Soviet Union

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(FSU) states, for whom membership was not considered or was seen as a very distant prospect. The EU developed very different policy agendas for the two zones – aid and integration for the former, and aid and co-operation for the latter. After Maastricht, however, the perception grew in the EU that a more co-ordinated policy at the European level was required to consolidate the changing nature of bilateral relations with Russia and the successor states. In the second stage, from 1994, the change in the territorial balance of power in Europe was masked, at least rhetorically, by the EU emphasis on ‘partnership’ with Russia. This emphasis became more sustained in the late 1990s as the EU began to formulate policy to address its growing energy dependency on external sources by focusing on the relationship with Russia. In this period new instruments were developed, such as the Partnership and Co-operation Agreement (1994), and the Common Strategy (1999), to improve the co-ordination of EU policy on Russia. The third stage from 2000 has seen a more assertive Russian leadership under Putin, and an increasing dissonance within the EU between the ‘old’ member states, whose foreign policy goals prioritize stable economic relations in a post-enlargement ‘strategic partnership’ with Russia, and the ‘new’ member states, whose historically rooted resentment and suspicions of Russia, combined with a much greater susceptibility to US influence, leads their foreign policies towards Russia to focus on more normative factors such as democratization and human rights.

2. Dividing aid In the early 1990s EU policy on the post-communist states concentrated on aid dispersion and ‘technical assistance’ for the promotion of market reforms and democratization. Following the development aid models there was a strong emphasis on the funding of Western-based expertise and consultants with the result that much of the aid was wasted (Wedel 1998). A strategic re-division of the former Soviet bloc was entrenched by aid policy, which was overwhelmingly determined by the then EC and the USA. First, the remit of the Poland and Hungary Assistance for Restructuring their Economies (PHARE) aid programme, which had originally been established in 1989 by the G24 to fund assistance to Poland and Hungary, was expanded to the Central and Eastern European Countries (CEEC) group. This group included six of the former ‘Soviet bloc’ states in the region (Poland, Hungary, Czech and Slovak Republics, Romania and Bulgaria), and to which were added the three former ‘Baltic republics’ of the USSR (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania), and one former republic of Yugoslavia (Slovenia). It excluded all the other post-communist states of the FSU/CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) and the Balkans (Mayhew 1998). Secondly, all the other countries of the FSU/CIS zone were included under the aegis of a new EU-funded Technical Aid to the Commonwealth of Independent States

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(TACIS) aid programme in 1991, although in practice the EU channelled most of the aid to the Russian Federation and Ukraine, with the vast bulk of it being directed to infrastructure, environmental security (nuclear) and market-oriented reforms.1 The relative prioritisation by the EU of these two groups of post-communist states is indicated by the size of its aid funding commitments. The TACIS countries received much less than half the level of funding committed to PHARE, and over 50 per cent of those funds were directed to Russia and Ukraine.2 The EU viewed the geographically proximate CEECs as an immense potential new market, where states were perceived to be more dependent and compliant with the EU’s conditionality for reforms, and where domestic pressures for democratic and market reforms were very strong (Hughes et al. 2004). Some of these states, such as Poland and Hungary, were from the beginning considered to be prospective new members of the EU. The FSU/CIS region, in contrast, was considered to be one of vital economic and security importance to the EU, but where the prospect of EU membership was remote, if not inconceivable, although this has been consistently fudged in the case of Ukraine. Moreover, given the EU’s dependency on Russian energy resources (especially the gas transiting Ukraine and Belarus), and potentially also from the Caspian Basin, the power asymmetric relationship essential for effective conditionality on reform processes was largely absent, and to some extent even reversed against the EU. The second phase beginning in 1991–92 marked the critical turning point in the EU’s external relations with the post-communist states when the bifurcated policy toward the CEECs and Russia/CIS was institutionalized. For the key CEECs, whose accession into the EU in the near term was seen as highly likely, ‘Europe Agreements’ were concluded that bound them to economic structural reforms and market liberalization, the consolidation of democracy and the rule of law. These elements formed the core of the EU’s conditionality for membership set by the Copenhagen Summit in June 1993. For the CIS states, who were unlikely ever to become members but who, at the same time, were vital economic trading partners, EU policy was directed toward securing and stabilizing trade. A decision by the European Council in 1992 led to the replacement of the EU Trade and Co-operation Agreement with the USSR (1989) by a new bilateral instrument to give ‘mostfavoured-nation’ treatment – the Partnership and Co-operation Agreement (PCA). Ukraine became the first post-Soviet state to sign a PCA with the EU on 14 June, 1994 followed by Russia on 24 June, although the PCA with Russia was the first to be ratified by EU member states in December 1997.3 The delay in implementation was due to a temporary reluctance to ratify the agreement from some member states who were opposed to Russia’s war in Chechnya.4 The signing of the PCA with Russia in 1994 marked a watershed in the increasing divergence of EU policy towards the two regions of postcommunist Europe. In the case of the CEECs EU policy focused on their

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negotiations for membership and the technical requirements for the adoption of the acquis communautaire. Russia and the FSU states were placed in the category of ‘outsiders’ which, although they shared ‘common values’ with the EU, would form the enlarged EU’s strategic eastern periphery and for whom ‘partnership’ became the new policy motif. As an international treaty the PCA provided a legal mechanism for regulating the new strategic ‘partnership’ in bilateral relations (article 1). Although the consolidation of democracy was one of the key declaratory policy objectives of the PCA, it was primarily an instrument for managing economic relations, with a concentration on trade co-operation, investment, liberalization, competition and regulation issues. The PCA includes also provisions for co-operation in the areas of ‘soft’ security: managing environmental problems, and combating transnational crime. One of the most important developments to emerge from the PCA was an institutionalized framework of dialogue via regular meetings between the EU and Russia. It provided for biannual high-level summits and regular joint meetings of ministers and lower-level officials. The strategic goal of the PCA was ‘rapprochement’, leading to ‘economic convergence’, an ‘increasing convergence of positions’ in international affairs, and co-operation on democracy and human rights issues (article 6). One of the most tangible results of the PCA was symbolic. By pushing through a major treaty of this kind with Russia, despite the misgivings of some member states over the faltering reform process and the systematic abuse of human rights in Chechnya, the EU sent a signal of pragmatic intent for ‘business as usual’. The PCA’s routine of meetings and dialogue helped to consolidate the perception of the legitimacy of post-Soviet Russia as a democratizing and market-oriented country. It provided fora where interests and policies could be aired, opinions shaped, and bargains struck. Given that many of the most powerful member states such as Germany, France and Britain had strong bilateral relations with Russia, with different historical, economic, and security interests at stake, how could a foreign policy convergence on policy toward Russia be realized? The instrument that was initially devised to achieve EU foreign policy convergence was the ‘Common Strategy’.

3. The EU’s common strategy on Russia The Common Strategy instrument emerged from the IGC of 1996–97 as one of the key tools for the construction of the second pillar (CFSP) under Article 13 of the Treaty on European Union (TEU) of 1997, in conjunction with the creation of the Secretary General of the Council/High Representative for CFSP, and the Policy Planning and Early Warning Unit (Haukkala and Medvedev 2001: 14). The idea of the Common Strategy came from a French proposal at the deadlocked IGC and was part of the compromise to secure

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the introduction of Qualified Majority Voting (QMV) into the CFSP domain (Haukkala 2001). The function of the Common Strategy was to frame and blueprint policy co-ordination by member states. In effect, it was intended to be a vehicle for ‘operationalizing the European discourse on foreign policy, both internally and externally’, thus, overcoming national interests by developing EU foreign policy convergence in key areas, subject to inputs from all member states and approved by consensus (Haukkala and Medvedev 2001: 17). At the Vienna Summit of 1998 the Council decided to create four Common Strategies towards the key strategic borderlands to the East and the South of the Union: Russia, Ukraine, the Mediterranean and the Balkans. It was envisaged that the Common Strategy would insulate broad strategic decisions based on unanimity from the smaller tactical foreign policy steps approved by QMV (De Spiegeleire 2001: 106). In practice, however, this instrument has been largely declaratory in nature as it has neither been significant for the strengthening of the CFSP, nor has it promoted improved co-ordination in the EU’s external relations. The weakness is a ‘genetic’ one for, in contrast to the CFSP, which was embedded by the TEU in ‘hard’ law (although outside the jurisdictional scope of the European Court of Justice), there was no substance to the Common Strategy instrument and, in particular, there was no guidance as to how it should or would be implemented. As is clear from paragraph two of Article 13 TEU, there were no sanctions for non-compliance by member states.5 The initiative and decisional power in foreign policy were retained by the European Council, and this also included the formulation of the proposed ‘joint actions’ and ‘common positions’ that were to be the substantive elements of any Common Strategy. Consequently, foreign policy co-ordination and convergence at the Union level was overtly subordinated from the outset to the national interests of member states. The first Common Strategy to be created was on Russia. Adopted under the German presidency of Chancellor Schröder at the Cologne Summit on 4 June, 1999, and with a sunset clause time-limiting it for an initial period of four years, it declared that the EU and Russia must develop ‘ever-closer co-operation’ and ‘strengthen the strategic partnership’. Accordingly, the EU and member states were to ensure the ‘co-ordination, coherence and complementarity of all aspects of their policy’ towards Russia, including their work in regional and international organizations such as the UN, OSCE, Council of Europe and international financial institutions.6 The process of implementation for the Common Strategy was to be determined by each EU presidency according to its own priorities and in work plans presented to the Council. The Common Strategy on Russia set a precedent for the ‘Christmas tree method’ of policy-making. Rather than work to a simplified consensus on core issues, member states added more and more ‘decoration’ to the document according to their own national interests. It demonstrates how the logic of convergence results not in improved effectiveness but in a race to

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the bottom, to the lowest common denominator of the most vague strategic policy pronouncements in order to avoid QMV. In sum, it was a rag-bag of member states’ interests and declaratory vacuousness with regard to Russia. It not only lacked precision, but also did not even provide any specific allocation of resources to implement the objectives. The absence of funding is a strong indication of the pre-eminently declaratory character of the Common Strategy and the resistance of member states to the building up of foreign policy capacity at the Union level. The document outlined EU ‘visions’, ‘principal objectives’, and ‘specific initiatives’, but distinguished only two extremely vague strategic goals: maintaining a stable democracy in Russia, and ‘intensified co-operation’ on common challenges. There was so much mention of the PCA and activities covered by it that the Common Strategy was derided by officials both on the EU and Russian sides for lacking added value. The so-called ‘objectives’ and ‘means’ were viewed as essentially a menu of problems and existing activities rather than a forward-looking strategy to generate a policy convergence. The four principal ‘objectives’ that were identified were very broadly stated.7 For those Commission officials that were engaged in the routine management of relations with Russia, there was little credibility attached to the Common Strategy, and their focus remained on the implementation of the PCA. According to one Commission official, the Common Strategy was simply ‘an encyclopaedia of generalities’.8

4. The question of co-ordinating technique An examination of some of the case-specific problems relating to the Common Strategy on Russia illustrates some of the general flaws and obstacles to foreign policy convergence within the European Union. Many, but far from all, of the problems were clearly identified in the EU’s major review of the instrument in general in late 2000. On 9 October, 2000 the General Affairs Council noted ‘the importance of common strategies for the co-ordination, coherence and effectiveness of external action’ and called on the Secretary General of the Council and High Representative for CFSP, Javier Solana, to submit an evaluation report on the operation of the existing Common Strategies and ‘on ways of making optimum use of this instrument in the future’.9 Solana’s report, declassified on 30 January, 2001, admitted that the Common Strategies suffered from several flaws. First, he admitted that there was a credibility problem as they had ‘not yet contributed to a stronger and more effective EU in international affairs’.10 He recognized that the Common Strategies were not valued as an internal working tool, and were of limited value, in particular in time-sensitive crisis situations.11 It was unclear, Solana noted, how the Common Strategies related to the already existing instruments, most notably the PCAs.12 The fact that the Common Strategies were published documents had diluted their effect and

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caused uncertainty in the target countries. Russia had become uncertain as to the precedence of the existing contractual agreements (the PCA). Rather than promoting QMV the ‘lowest common denominator’ approach in the formulation of the Common Strategies allowed member states to avoid it. The lack of consistency in the presidency work plans also created an impression of ‘stop–go’ policy, or they became ‘routine exercises’ and ‘inventories of existing policies and activities’.13 Solana’s report recommended that if the Common Strategies were to promote ‘coherence’ in EU foreign policy, then they must be transformed into primarily internal EU policy documents (viz. secret documents: author) that could be sharpened up and be ‘used to develop a limited, specific foreign policy objective with the priorities and value added identified in advance and the necessary budgetary and policy means linked directly with it’. On this basis, Solana argued, they would also inform the activities of member states in other international institutions. Such measures were essential, he believed, if the EU was to overcome the credibility problem in its CFSP.14 It was a classic case of Hill’s ‘capability-expectations gap’ in EU activities, where the high expectations generated by the CFSP starkly contrasted with the actuality of poor delivery in the Common Strategy instrument.15 Solana’s report failed to specify some of the institutional and political obstacles. In particular, he failed to spell out how the implementation of the Common Strategy on Russia was impaired by a technical synchronization problem in the EU’s structuring of its own activities into separate institutional cycles. As the EU presidency changes every six months, each presidency was obliged to draw up a separate work plan on how to implement the Common Strategy. This makes for an in-built tendency to restate the goals of the Common Strategy every six months. In contrast, TACIS programming, the EU’s main aid delivery mechanism to Russia and the CIS, operates on 4–7 year cycles. The priorities and projects identified by TACIS and the Commission, therefore, tend a priori to shape the work plans formulated by the presidencies and not vice versa. The TACIS regulations of December 1999 (covering the period 2000–6) only mention that ‘applicable provisions of assistance    should take due account of the Common Strategies adopted by the European Council’.16 The TACIS draft indicative programme 2000–3 repeated the general objectives of the Common Strategy on Russia noting the fact that the Common Strategy covered the same four-year period and mentioning the possibility that the six-month work plans ‘may include initiatives which involve bilateral or TACIS technical assistance. In this way, priorities under the Common Strategy contribute to the TACIS programming process.’17 While, therefore, there was some overlap with the objectives of the Common Strategy on Russia and TACIS, it is clear that the presidency work plans were informed more by TACIS priorities and the existing structures of TACIS, the PCA, other initiatives and bilateral programmes (De Spiegeleire 2001: 81–4). Despite

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the fact that TACIS was one area the Commission controlled and where, in theory, policy convergence was maximized, the European Court of Auditors evaluation of TACIS in early 2006 found that the programme was characterized by waste and ‘low effectiveness’.18 Moreover, presidencies usually liaise very closely with the officials in the Commission and normally the work plans relating to Russia would be drafted under the supervision of the Commission officials dealing with Russia. In their daily work these Commission officials are focused on the activities falling under the PCA and TACIS programme priorities, and thus the presidencies are briefed accordingly. The country desks at the Commission are also anxious to ensure that the presidencies do not set unrealistic goals in their work plans, or goals that are not consistent either with the Common Strategy or the Commission’s views. In this manner, according to Commission officials, the potential for a strategic foreign policy convergence on Russia to be elaborated around the Common Strategy by a presidency is largely substituted by a convergence around pre-existing interests, and longterm aid priorities.19 This is particularly the case for member states that have weak foreign policy capacity and few resources devoted to policy on Russia, who may, in any event, be overloaded or stretched by the work plans. Correspondingly, those member states that have strong foreign policy capacity and have historically invested in their relations with Russia will tend to be more proactive in the agenda-setting on Russia for their presidencies. The more powerful member states have a general preference for bilateralism and have their own institutional capacity for pursuing their national interests irrespective of the EU.20 There is no comprehensive system for pooling resources or sharing information among member states to improve co-ordination. Indeed, in practice it may not be in a member state’s national interests to pool information relating to Russia, especially if it has vital economic or security interests at stake. The sporadic element in the practice of the Common Strategy is evident from the final conclusions of the presidencies, which tend to reflect the gloss of the national priorities of the presidency and its bilateral activities. Many of these flaws were similarly evident in the EU’s ‘Northern Dimension’, a programme that emerged from the PCA as a Finnish initiative at the Luxembourg European Council in 1997. Designed to address the specific problems of the EU’s cross-border relations with North-West Russia, the Baltic Sea region and the Arctic Sea region, the implementation of the Northern Dimension has reflected the problems of synchronizing TACIS with Common Strategy goals and presidency work plans. It has generally only been the presidencies that have a material interest at stake as members of the regional sub-group, such as Finland and Sweden, that have attached high importance to the Northern Dimension in the work plans, and in securing TACIS funding (Vahl 2001: 1–55).21 If the Northern Dimension was a substantive EU priority then we would expect that the entry of Poland and

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the three Baltic states as members in 2004 would give added momentum to it. In fact, as is clear from the priorities of the Irish, Dutch, Luxembourg and UK presidencies since enlargement in early 2004, the Northern Dimension has slipped into the policy netherworld.22 Moreover, the Northern Dimension has become a source of competition as it is perceived by some of the new member states as a vehicle to project Finnish interests within the EU, while Poland is more interested in forging and presiding over a new ‘Eastern’ dimension (Kononenko 2004: 20–1).23 Russia responded to the EU’s Common Strategy by issuing its own ‘MidTerm Strategy 2000–10’ in October 1999 (Gowan 2000: 11–13).24 In contrast to the complex multi-actor EU, Russia had the capacity to achieve what the EU had intended by focusing in on specific national interests and strategic goals, such as counter-balancing ‘NATO-centrism’, the discrimination against the Russian minority in the Baltic states and Russia’s special interests in the CIS, as well as outlining a plethora of specific areas for co-operation. By the time President Putin’s new foreign policy concept emerged in July 2000, however, Russia recognized that the EU’s Common Strategy was largely fictitious. Consequently Putin stressed the importance of Russia’s relations with the EU on the basis of the PCA (and as part of its goal of a ‘multi-polar system of international relations’), and ignored the Common Strategy.25

5. The ‘Strategic Partnership’ and energy: pragmatism trumps norms The EU–Russia relationship that developed in tandem with the EU’s eastward enlargement (and indeed the parallel expansion of NATO), concentrated on stabilizing good relations in order to secure the most important aspect of the relationship for the EU–the supply of energy from Russia. During the 1990s the trade relationship between the EU and Russia increasingly assumed the characteristics typical of that between the developed and developing countries. With trade to a value of just over E126 billion in 2004, Russia is the EU’s fourth major trade partner (after the US, China and Switzerland). In the main Russia supplies the EU with energy products. Mineral fuels and related products account for just under 60 per cent of total EU imports from Russia. In contrast the EU is a major exporter of finished products to Russia. Manufactured goods accounted for just under 85 per cent of EU exports to Russia in 2004. Moreover, the character of this interdependency of trade is strengthening over time (Tables 6.1 and 6.2). The collapse of Russian GDP after 1991 was largely caused by a crash of its manufacturing industry, and output has only begun to recover since 2000. The bulk of Russia’s economic growth since 2000, however, is due to increased oil and gas exports and higher world prices for these products. Consequently the EU has become increasingly dependent on more costly Russian oil and gas, while Russia draws in EU manufactured goods without the constraints of the Cold War on West–East technology transfers.

86 The EU and the Great Powers Table 6.1 Structure of EU–Russia trade 2000–4. EU exports (%) to Russia 40.0 35.0 30.0 25.0 20.0 15.0 10.0 5.0 2000

2002

Agricultural production Transport equipment Textiles and clothing

2004

Energy Automotive production

Machinery Chemicals

Source: DG Trade, 2005 http://europa.eu.int/comm/trade/issues/bilateral/datapdf.htm

Table 6.2 Structure of EU–Russia trade 2000–4. EU exports (%) from Russia 70.0 60.0 50.0 40.0 30.0 20.0 10.0 2000 Agricultural production Transport equipment Textiles and clothing

2002

2004

Energy Automotive production

Machinery Chemicals

Source: DG Trade, 2005 http://europa.eu.int/comm/trade/issues/bilateral/datapdf.htm

Securing stable energy flows became the key goal of EU policy towards Russia in the late 1990s, and has dominated the agenda as oil prices rocketed after 2001 and other main external sources for the EU such as the Middle East and Algeria have become more unstable. Fossil fuels (oil, gas, coal) make up over four-fifths of the EU’s total energy consumption, two-thirds of which are imported. Currently the EU imports about 80 per cent of its oil and about 45 per cent of its natural gas, but the Commission projects that the figures will be 90 per cent and 70 per cent respectively by 2020. Russia accounted for about 20 per cent of natural gas consumption in the EU-15 in 2002, and enlargement will have increased the EU dependency in this sector significantly.

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One of the key ‘dialogues’ that emerged from the EU’s Common Strategy was the EU–Russia ‘energy dialogue’, launched in October 2000 at the sixth EU–Russia Summit in Paris, almost simultaneously with a Green Paper on energy issued by the Commission in late November 2000. The Green Paper stressed that the strategic partnership with Russia is a key dimension to the EU’s future energy security and envisaged a long-term contractual relationship with Russia that would include joint infrastructural projects, such as the new gas pipeline via Belarus and Poland started in 2001, to enlarge the transport and pipeline distribution networks for energy.26 The inexorable trend of increasing EU dependency on Russian energy is driving a debate in the Commission over ‘diversification’ and how to manage the political aim of securing ‘control’ of external energy supply.27 The instrument that emerged to achieve this goal was the Common European Economic Space, which is an attempt by the EU to lock Russia into a long-term economic relationship, cloaked by the term ‘convergence’, and to create bilateral fora and policy programmes through which it can influence Russian policy. The concept of the Common European Economic Space emerged from the discussions of the High Level Group set up at the seventh EU–Russia Summit held in Moscow in May 2001, under then EU External Relations Commissioner, Chris Patten, and then Russian Federation Deputy Prime Minister (and Energy and Industry minister), Viktor Khristenko. Over the next four years EU–Russia summits were dominated by negotiations over how to realize this concept not only as a long term strategy for mutual interests into the twenty-first century, but also more immediately in the short-term context of EU enlargement, the problem of access to Kaliningrad, and the negotiations over EU support for Russia’s entry into the World Trade Organization (WTO).28 The nature of the dialogue between the EU and Russia was such that it was as if the EU-15 wanted to establish a new pattern in the relationship before the enlargement to the CEECs, among whom there were many countries that were suspicious of good relations with Russia and after enlargement they would have a veto on such developments. The issues were resolved step-bystep. Whereas the PCA referred to Russia as an ‘economy in transition’, the EU finally accorded Russia ‘full’ market economy status at the nineth summit in Moscow in May 2002. Although Russia sought a wider agreement on visafree travel between the EU and Russia, the Kaliningrad issue was solved by local and provisional measures at the tenth EU Russian Summit in Brussels in November 2002 by an agreement on the use of a ‘Facilitated Transit Document’ – a multiple entry visa, and a ‘Facilitated Rail Transit Document’, a visa applicable only for train journeys. The need for Russia to conclude final status agreements on its common borders with the incoming member states of Estonia and Latvia was put on the agenda at the twelfth summit held in Rome in November 2003, but remain outstanding. The ongoing and tough negotiations over the conditions for Russia’s WTO entry, were finally

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concluded at the thirteenth summit in Moscow in May 2004, just after EU enlargement. An important new stage in EU–Russian relations came at the eleventh EU– Russia Summit, held in Putin’s home town of St Petersburg on 31 May, 2003. The summit became part of highly symbolic exercise in political theatre by Russia to stress its ‘Europeanness’ by drawing on the emotive power of St Petersburg as a grand European capital city. At the summit the EU and Russia confirmed their commitment to further strengthen their strategic partnership by giving substance to the concept of the Common European Economic Space. They agreed to reinforce co-operation by creating four ‘Common Spaces’ in the areas of Economy; External Security; Freedom, Security and Justice; and Education, Research and Culture. These were understood as long-term objectives within the framework of the existing PCA and would be shaped by ‘common values and shared interests’. The institutional forum for dialogue was strengthened in order to develop agreements on the ‘Common Spaces’ as the existing Co-operation Council became the ‘Permanent Partnership Council’. Its role was to act as a clearing house for all issues and to ‘streamline’ agendas so that agreements could be reached in advance and then be taken forward to summits for approval. The tempo of the dialogue was accelerated, with more frequent meetings across different formats.29 As in the PCA the issue of the consolidation of democracy was played down. From an institutional perspective, the process of negotiating the ‘Common spaces’ followed the by now standardized EU approach shaped by a decade of enlargement negotiations with post-communist states, which was to view negotiations through the prism of ‘road maps’. The purpose of the ‘road maps’ was to set out the shared objectives for EU–Russia relations, to define the ‘actions’ (usually in the form of a ‘plan’) necessary to make these objectives a reality, and to determine the agenda for co-operation between the EU and Russia for the medium term. A single package of road maps for the creation of the four Common Spaces was finally agreed at the fifteenth EU–Russia Summit held in Moscow on 10 May, 2005.30 The centrality of the energy question to EU–Russia relations was reinforced by the high policy priority attached to it under the UK presidency in the second half of 2005, and by the short interruption of EU supply caused by the Russian–Ukrainian ‘gas dispute’ in late December–early January 2005–6. Given the importance of energy corporations in the UK, and the preference for Russian corporations to network in and out of London, the UK presidency promoted a burgeoning institutionalization of joint discussions on energy security. The first meeting of the EU–Russia Permanent Partnership Council on Energy held in London on 3 October, 2005 around four thematic working groups (on energy efficiency, trade, infrastructure and investment) was composed of experts from the European Commission and EU member states, Russian government, and EU and Russian business. Declining North Sea gas output has also helped to shift British perceptions of its national

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interests from opposing EU control of energy policy to a position where the UK presidency placed energy security high on the agenda at the Hampton Court meetings of EU leaders in late September and late October 2005. It called for stronger European co-ordination of energy policy, including the formation of a single power grid and co-operation on gas storage. The British keenness for EU co-ordination of energy policy is also a result of underlying political tensions arising from the fact that some EU countries, particularly Germany, are proceeding quickly to strengthen their energy relationship with Russia on a bilateral basis.31 The emphasis on energy security continued under the Austrian and Finnish presidencies in 2006. This policy discussion occurs in a climate where EU insecurity about the stability of gas supply from Russia has been further stirred by the short Russia–Ukraine gas dispute. The dispute arose when Gazprom decided to make Ukraine move from a highly subsidized pricing regime to world prices without a transition period, thus effectively quadrupling Ukraine’s costs. The dispute was undoubtedly linked to the recent political changes in Ukraine which have seen a more pro-West foreign policy under president Yushchenko, including a strong push to join NATO and the EU. Inevitably the policy change has made Russia less inclined to provide subsidized energy to Ukraine, especially when its industries are competing with Russia’s for market share. The dispute was resolved by the political intervention of Putin who imposed a complex agreement that essentially doubled the price and included a short transition period. The fact that several EU member states saw a short interruption of gas supplies forced the Commission to call an emergency meeting of the EU’s Gas Co-ordination Group on 4 January, 2006.32 Paradoxically, while the Russia–Ukraine gas dispute highlighted the energy dependency of the EU on Russia and also regenerated the policy debate about the need for diversification of the EU’s energy supplies, it occurred immediately in the wake of a major new energy Russo-German bilateral infrastructural project that will further lock in the EU countries to Russian gas supply. An agreement between Russia’s Gazprom and the German concerns BASF and Ruhrgaz saw construction start on a 1200 km-long North European Gas Pipeline directly linking Vyborg in Russia and Greifswald in Germany via the Baltic Sea.33 When completed in 2010 the pipeline will triple gas supplies to Europe. The pipeline deal has considerably strengthened Russian– German bilateral economic and political ties, but given that it will also reduce Russia’s dependency for gas transit on Ukraine, it has caused strains with Poland. Consequently, in its bargaining with Russia over energy, the EU has increasingly stressed its interpretation of the Energy Charter, which demands that Russia commit itself to ‘non-discrimination’ (viz. the opening up to outside interests) in access to its pipeline system. The debate within the EU over the weighting between a cost–benefit versus normative approach to policy on Russia has been most pronounced over the

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issue of human rights abuses, in particular during the conflict in Chechnya. As noted earlier a few member states delayed the ratification of the PCA in protest at Russia’s policy on Chechnya, but the delay was short, and full ratification was achieved by the end of 1997. Criticism from Western governments, including the EU, peaked in 1999–2000, after the start of the second Russian–Chechen war. The criticism denounced Russia’s use of ‘excessive’ force and called for negotiations towards a political solution. At the EU summit in Helsinki in December 1999, the ‘strategic partnership’ with Russia was frozen in protest at the Russian military intervention in Chechnya, and the EU put on hold its funding for TACIS, the Northern Dimension and other forms of co-operation. The EU also took the opportunity to impose a self-interested form of sanctions by cutting import quotas for Russian steel products by 12 per cent in March 2000. Rather than confront Russia directly over Chechnya, however, the EU tended to operate through its significant presence in other international organizations. In particular the EU used its overwhelming presence (including candidate states) in the OSCE and Council of Europe, where the EU presidency presented the common positions of the member states. On 8 December, 1999 there was a rare joint declaration by the United Nations, the OSCE and the Council of Europe urging Russia to respect human rights in Chechnya. Even before 9/11, however, there were signs of a refocus on pragmatism in the EU’s relationship with Russia. While Putin consistently presented Chechnya as a problem of ‘terrorism’ from the outset of the second war, the term had little resonance in the EU prior to 9/11, with the exception of the UK. On a visit to Moscow in March 2000, Prime Minister Blair adopted Putin’s rhetoric about ‘terrorism’ in Chechnya. The turning point, however, came in June 2001. Having secured what appeared to be a military victory over the rebels, Putin made concessions to Western views and allowed the return of the OSCE Assistance Group to Chechnya. The pragmatism of the West towards Russia was most obviously revealed at the US–Russia summit in Slovenia, which saw Chechnya sidelined by the Bush administration in its rush to secure Russian agreement to abandon the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty. At the EU–Russia summit and the European Council summit at Goteborg, the Swedish presidency, unprecedented before or since, made EU–Russia relations a separate heading in its work-plan. Sweden placed a high priority on restoring co-operation with Russia and refocused the EU’s agenda on the core issues of mutual interest with Russia – enlargement, Kyoto, the Northern Dimension, and trade.34 Consequently, even prior to 9/11, pragmatism had a firm grip on EU and US policy towards Russia. The new environment was confirmed in September 2001. When Putin addressed the German Bundestag, and held one of five bilateral summits in this period with Chancellor Gerhardt Schröder, the latter spoke of the need for ‘world opinion’ to take a more understanding and ‘differentiated approach’ to Russia’s conflict in Chechnya.35 The attacks of 9/11 led to

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an abandonment of the common EU strategy of freezing its relations with Russia and a new divergence towards stronger bilateralist approaches, with some states such as Germany, France, Italy, and the UK, together with the US, overtly accepting Putin’s framing of the Chechnya conflict as a problem of ‘terrorism’. Partly this divergence was also a product of a prolonged diplomatic strategy by Putin to fracture the common EU position by targeting these ‘Great Power’ leaders. For example, at the EU–Russia summit in Rome in November 2003, Italy’s Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, brusquely intervened against journalists’ questions and defended Putin’s policy against ‘terrorists’ in Chechnya, and at a trilateral summit between Putin, Chirac and Schröder in Sochi in August 2004, Chirac defended Putin’s Chechnya policy and supported the Russian-supervised presidential elections in the region. The decline of Chechnya as a salient issue in EU–Russia relations has nothing to do with any dramatic change in the abuses of human rights in the region, as Putin’s policy of Chechenization under the Kadyrovtsy means that the abuses are now institutionalized within the ruling apparatus within Chechnya, in addition to the Russian security forces. We can attribute the change to two main developments. First, Putin’s successful navigation of international relations led him to forge strong personal relationships with a number of key European leaders such as Schröder, Chirac, Blair and Berlusconi (in contrast with Yeltsin, who when sober tended to focus more on the relationship with the US). Secondly, the agendas of the biannual summits became steadily dominated by the pragmatic negotiations over major economic issues and the broader strategic relationship from the tenth EU–Russia Summit in Brussels in November 2002. EU leaders, in particular those who laid claim to a moral code, were highly sensitive to criticisms of the primacy of pragmatism.36 Moreover, from 2002, Russia became much more proactive in criticizing the EU for tolerating systematic discrimination against the Russophone minorities in Estonia and Latvia. By the time of the fourteenth EU–Russia Summit in The Hague in November 2004, there was mutual agreement effectively to sideline such issues to a new and separate round of EU–Russia ‘consultations’ on human rights, and in this way prevent them from contaminating the summit forum. For as German Economics Minister, Michael Glos, declared during the Russo-German bilateral summit at Tomsk in February 2006, it was important that normative issues such as Chechnya did not ‘spoil the atmosphere’ of relations.37

Conclusion The development of EU foreign policy in the 1990s grew out of the need to develop key international relationships, such as that with Russia, with whom the EU had to engage under conditions of asymmetric interdependency because of its energy reliance on Russian oil and gas. What is striking,

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however, is that the most consistent institutional basis for EU foreign policymaking on Russia was the PCA of 1994, an instrument that preceded the CFSP and the defunct Common Strategy, and to a large extent served to undermine them. The durability of the PCA was reflected in its prominence in the agreement on the four ‘Common Spaces’ of May 2005. It is the PCA that provides the institutional basis for the EU–Russia ‘dialogue’, through the regular ministerial meetings and other official fora, and most obviously in the biannual summits, where the presidencies take the lead. Throughout much of the period under discussion EU–Russia relations were informed by calculations of an oil price band of around $20–30 per barrel. Following the war in Iraq and rising consumption in the US and China the price has since soared to over $70 per barrel. Oil price pressures will force a shift away from oil to natural gas use but the consequences of such a shift for the EU are that it will increase its dependency on Russian energy in coming decades. Given this highly probable scenario how might the EU–Russian relationship evolve? The enlargement of the EU to the CEECs has introduced a discordant note in EU policy on Russia. Many of the new member states have historic suspicions of Russia and are hostile, if not unenthusiastic, about closer relations, even at quite petty levels such as customs procedures. This is despite the fact that they also have economic dependencies on Russian energy. Arguably, in time they too will adjust to the realities of the benefits of co-operation with Russia. The question is whether the EU can surmount the institutional flaws and political obstacles to foreign policy convergence within its own system. The failure of the Common Strategy on Russia demonstrates that the calculus of member states is that the political and economic benefits of bilateralism outweigh any potential benefits of serious multilateralism. Moreover, the failure of TACIS suggests that even if convergence were to be achieved we should not assume that it will produce more effective policy. In any event Russia’s authoritarian drift under Putin, in the absence of stable institutional procedures for a leadership alternance, makes for a more unpredictable and insecure environment. Having all but abandoned the normative dimension of its foreign policy towards Russia for a pragmatic emphasis on business and security, the EU’s scope for shaping domestic politics in Russia in a democratic orientation, whether bilateral or multilateral, is very limited.

Notes 1. For aid to Russia see the TACIS website http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_ relations/ceeca/tacis/ 2. In 1990–99 the EU committed just over E10.2 billion to PHARE, but in the period 1991–99 it committed only about E4.2 billion to TACIS. See: http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/ceeca/tacis/figures.pdf and http:// europa.eu.int/comm/enlargement/pas/phare/pdf/phare1999.pdf

James Hughes 93 3. For the text of the EU–Russia PCA see: http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_ relations/ceeca/pca/pca_russia.pdf 4. The most reluctant to sign were Austria, Sweden, Finland and Portugal whose ratification followed the Russian–Chechen truce of August 1996 and peace treaty of May 1997. 5. Treaty of Amsterdam 1997, Article 13, Paragraph 2 states: ‘The European Council shall decide on common strategies to be implemented by the Union in areas where the Member states have important interests in common. Common strategies shall set out their objectives, duration and means to be made available by the Union and the Member states. The Council [of Ministers.] shall recommend common strategies to the European Council and shall implement them, in particular by adopting joint actions and common positions.’ 6. For the text see: http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/ceeca/com_strat/ russia_99.pdf 7. The four ‘objectives’ were: 1. Consolidation of democracy, rule of law and public institutions; 2. Integration of Russia into a common European economic and social space; 3. Co-operation to strengthen stability and security in Europe and beyond; 4. Common Challenges on the European continent. 8. Author’s interviews with Commission officials, Brussels, 27–29 March, 2001. 9. Council Meeting, General Affairs, Luxembourg, 9 October 2000; http://ue.eu.int/ newsroom/main.cfm?LANG=1 10. Secretary General/High Representative, Common Strategies Report, Brussels 21 December, 2000, declassified 30 January, 2001, 14871/00, CAB 21, Paragraph 3. 11. Ibid., Paragraph 11–12. 12. Ibid., Paragraph 13–14. 13. Ibid., Paragraph 21. 14. Ibid., Paragraph 22–3. 15. See Hill 1993: 305–28. 16. Council Regulation No. 99/2000, 29 December, 1999 concerning the provision of assistance to the partner States in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, Official Journal of the European Communities, 18 January, 2000; http://europa.eu.int/ comm/external_relations/ceeca/tacis/reg99_00.pdf 17. See: http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/ceeca/tacis/ip2003_russia.pdf 18. Press Statement by Mr Jacek Uczkiewicz, Member of the European Court of Auditors, on the Special report concerning the performance of projects financed under TACIS in the Russian federation, Brussels, 20 April, 2006. 19. Author’s interviews with Commission officials, Brussels, 27–29 March, 2001. 20. Britain, for example, maintains a newly built embassy in Moscow that has offices for 250 staff, dwarfing the EU’s Delegation. 21. See: http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/north_dim/index.htm 22. See the priorities of these presidencies on the relevant websites at http://ue.eu.int/ cms3_fo/showPage.asp?id=695&lang=EN&mode=g 23. The author thanks Margot Light for bringing this source to his attention. 24. Medium-Term Strategy for the Development of Relations Between the Russian Federation and the European Union (2000–2010). http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_ relations/russia/russian_medium_term_strategy/ 25. Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation, 28 June, 2000: http://www.ln.mid.ru/Bl.nsf/0/1EC8DC08180306614325699C003B5FF0? OpenDocument

94 The EU and the Great Powers 26. Green Paper, Towards a European Strategy for the Security of Energy Supply, 29 November, 2000 http://europa.eu.int/comm/energy_transport/docprincipal/pubfinal_en.pdf; Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament, Final Report on the Green Paper ‘Towards a European Strategy for the Security of Energy Supply’, Brussels, Commission of the European Communities, 26 June, 2002 http://europa.eu.int/comm/energy_transport/ en/lpi_lv_en1.html 27. Report on the Green Paper on Energy, Directorate-General for Energy and Transportation, Luxembourg: Office for Official Publications of the European Communities, 2005. 28. For the EU–Russia summit agendas and joint statements see: http://europa. eu.int/comm/external_relations/russia/intro/summit.htm 29. For the joint statement of the St Petersburg summit see: http://europa.eu.int/ comm/external_relations/russia/sum05_03/js.htm. Permanent Partnership Councils on Justice and Home Affairs issues and on Environment issues were later established at the thirteenth summit in May 2004. 30. For the ‘road maps’ see http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/russia/ summit_05_05/#1 31. These bilateral ‘interconnections’ were referred to rather tetchily by prime minister Blair at his joint press conference with European Commission President José Manuel Barroso at the EU informal summit, Hampton Court, 27 October, 2005. http://www.eu2005.gov.uk 32. The group was established under Council Directive 2004/67/EC 26 April, 2004 concerning measures to safeguard security of natural gas supply. 33. The Russian–German North European Gas Pipeline Company is 51 per cent owned by Gazprom, while German E.ON and BASF hold 24.5 per cent each. 34. For the Swedish work plan see http://eu2001.se/static/pdf/program/ordfprogram_ eng.pdf. See also the Swedish Presidency Conclusions, Goteborg European Council, 15–16 June, 2001. http://ue.eu.int/ueDocs/cms_Data/docs/pressData/ en/ec/00200-r1.en1.pdf. Leif Pagrotsky, Sweden’s Minister for Foreign Trade was particularly active in pushing the EU–Russia agenda. 35. Reported in the Guardian 26 September, 2001. 36. See, for example, the Declaration by the Rt Hon Chris Patten, CH at the European Parliament Development Committee 12 November, IP/02/1655 – Brussels, 12 November, 2002 at http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/ news/patten/ip02_1655.htm 37. Reported in Financial Times Deutschland, 28 April, 2006.

Part III The EU and the Management of Conflicts

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7 European Union Foreign Policy towards the Balkans Eva Gross

1. Introduction The countries of the former Yugoslavia1 occupy an important place in the foreign and security policy of the EU. The violent conflicts in the Balkans throughout the 1990s, and the absence of an effective European response, were an important impetus in the evolution of the EU Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) and the creation of the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP). The experience in the war in Bosnia and the conflict in Kosovo led to an alignment of views among EU member states, most significantly Britain and France, that the EU should have autonomous defence capabilities to respond to future security challenges, particularly those arising from the Western Balkans. Since the end of the conflict in Kosovo and the evolution of CFSP and ESDP instruments, the EU has indeed achieved some success in crisis management in the region: in 2001 EU mediation efforts played an important role in preventing the outbreak of war and led to a relatively peaceful settlement of the crisis in the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM). Starting in 2003 ESDP has taken over tasks of stabilization from NATO through military and police missions in Bosnia and FYROM. A rule of law mission in Kosovo, which is currently in planning and likely to be implemented after the resolution of the status question sometime in 2007, constitutes the most ambitious civilian crisis management operation the EU has undertaken to date both in terms of its size as well as the complexity of the task to be undertaken. These efforts at political mediation and stabilization are part of a broader strategy of economic assistance and integration with the prospect of eventual EU membership. Enlargement and economic co-operation have become the focus of EU policy towards the Western Balkans, and the EU is by far the most important financial donor in the region. Policy instruments used in the Western Balkans span across pillars and involve CFSP as well as Community instruments, reflecting the increasing complexity of EU foreign policy in the region. 97

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Based on the developments of EU involvement in the region over the past 15 years, this chapter puts forth two sets of arguments and identifies a number of challenges facing EU policy towards the region. First, with regard to the existence of a ‘European approach’ to the Western Balkans, the broader EU policy towards the region certainly reflects at least a congruence of national positions especially with regard to the development and application of CFSP and ESDP instruments. Given the number of EU actors and activities on the ground both for stabilization and integration, it is appropriate to speak of a common foreign policy in so far as there is consensus on the broad policy goals. Member states do retain distinct national attitudes and preferences, particularly with regards to the role of NATO and the US in European security. It is, however, becoming increasingly clear that the role of NATO and the United States in the Western Balkans is going to diminish further in light of new security priorities in Iraq and Afghanistan, and there is a shared understanding among member states that the EU will fill this void. Second, even though the EU has become a more effective actor in the Western Balkans and the situation is by far not as dramatic as it was during the 1990s, significant problems remain. They include first and foremost the unresolved status question in Kosovo but also Bosnia, which is far from becoming a self-governing state. Economic progress across the region has been uneven at best and – with the exception of Croatia2 – EU membership for the individual countries in the region remains a distant possibility. Two challenges arise from these observations. One is that the EU has to live up to the expectations created by the prospect of eventual EU membership among the countries in the region in order to continue to influence economic and political reforms. The second challenge relates to co-ordinating the instruments employed in the Western Balkans: EU institutions and member states must co-ordinate the different and partially overlapping policies and instruments in order to address these regional challenges, and to turn the dual policies of stabilization and integration into a truly ‘common’ and effective foreign policy.

2. The hour of Europe? European responses to the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia during the 1990s Before the 1990s EU involvement with the former Yugoslavia and Albania was marginal and reflected the low geopolitical priority of the region. In 1980 the then-EC signed a co-operation agreement with Yugoslavia to encourage the country to remain independent from the Soviet Union, and concluded a co-operation and trade agreement with Albania in 1992. Following the death of Tito in 1980 and the end of the Cold War the moves towards secession and the resulting conflicts turned the Western Balkans into a central concern for the EU and the international community as a whole. Although

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the EU was quick to claim responsibility for restoring stability after the first military confrontations following the secession of Slovenia and Croatia in June 1991, a series of diplomatic initiatives was not only unsuccessful in stopping the conflict but also exposed significant differences among the member states on how to deal with the emerging conflict. Despite European ambitions for turning the EU into a credible international actor, member states’ fragmentation soon demonstrated that the EU was far from being able to intervene effectively in the conflicts. The absence of congruence, let alone convergence, of member states’ positions towards the wars in the former Yugoslavia in turn reinforced Europe’s continued reliance on the United States for regional security. Differences among member states’ positions initially centred on the recognition of Slovenia and Croatia: while the EU took the position that the territorial integrity of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia should be preserved, Germany, backed by public opinion and the press, insisted on the unilateral recognition of Slovenia and Croatia to the detriment of EU unity. Following an increasingly assertive campaign on the part of Germany the EU followed suit and recognized Slovenia and Croatia as independent states in January 1992, a move that accelerated the outbreak of violent conflict in BosniaHerzegovina and led to severe international criticism of the German position (Maull 1995: 99–130). The war in Bosnia once more exposed differences among EU member states, this time with regards to the use of military force to stop the conflict. The eventual direct military involvement of NATO further reduced the EU’s role in the region in favour of the UN Security Council and the Contact Group (Schwegmann 2000).3 Fighting erupted after the 1 March, 1992 referendum on independence and, as in the case of Croatia, the EU made efforts to reach a political settlement of the conflict. The International Conference on the Former Yugoslavia (ICFY), co-chaired by the British EU presidency and the UN, opened on 26 August, 1992 establishing an international agenda for the former Yugoslavia that included the supervision of Serb artillery around Sarajevo, tightening sanctions against Serbia and the declaration of an air-exclusion zone throughout Bosnia. The resulting Vance–Owen Plan, drafted by Europe’s peace envoy David Owen and UN envoy Cyrus Vance, foresaw the division of Bosnia into ten ethnically defined geographic regions under a confederate roof but was rejected by the Bosnian Serbs and, importantly, lacked US support. Similarly, the objectives set out in the international agenda on the former Yugoslavia proved difficult to enforce, particularly without a credible threat of military force. Among EU member states, diplomatic initiative increasingly rested with Britain and France. Both countries contributed contingents to the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) that had been established in 1992 to ensure the demilitarization of designated areas in Croatia and was extended to Bosnia and Herzegovina to support the delivery of humanitarian

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relief, to monitor no fly zones, and protect safe areas established around a number of Bosnian towns including Sarajevo, Goražde and Srebrenica. The shelling of a Sarajevo market place in February 1994 and the resulting deaths of 69 civilians not only galvanized public opinion but also led thenUN Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali to request NATO to take all necessary measures in support of a withdrawal of Serb heavy artillery from around Sarajevo. Serb aggression and policies of ethnic cleansing in Bosnia triggered a debate within NATO about the use of military force, but met with the strong objections of France and the UK motivated by their concern for the safety of their UNPROFOR contingents, and with a general reluctance to commit ground troops on the part of the US. Policy differences were exemplified in the ‘lift and strike’ debate, where the US favoured the lifting of the arms embargo and robust air-strikes against Bosnian Serbs, while Britain and France not only feared for the safety of their military personnel but also felt that this policy would widen the war (Woodward 1995: 238). Divisions over the scope of international intervention beyond peace-keeping and the delivery of humanitarian aid continued in the face of an escalating humanitarian catastrophe that culminated in the fall of Srebrenica and the killing of an estimated 7000 Bosnian Muslims in July 1995 under the watch of UN peace-keepers. Negotiations carried out by US Assistant Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke eventually led to talks in Dayton, Ohio and the Dayton Peace Accord (DPA), which was formally ratified in Paris on 14 December, 1995. The DPA had two goals: to end the fighting and to rebuild a viable Bosnian state. The NATO-led Implementation Force (IFOR) and subsequent Stabilization Force (SFOR) were put in place to take on the military aspects of implementation, while the civilian aspects were addressed by High Representative Paddy Ashdown.4 The crisis in Kosovo reinforced the experience of European military ineffectiveness and US dominance. The political resolution of the conflict also depended on US diplomatic leadership during negotiations conducted in the framework of the Contact Group. As fighting between FRY (Federal Republic of Yugoslavia) security forces and the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) intensified in 1998, the issue moved up on the political agenda. An agreement brokered in late 1998 between Holbrooke and Milosevic that called for a cease-fire, the withdrawal of security forces and talks between the conflicting parties, began to unravel by the beginning of 1999 as FRY authorities began to move forces back into Kosovo. Final diplomatic efforts at Rambouillet outside Paris in January 1999 did not result in a settlement and led to NATO’s decision to use coercive airpower. NATO Operation Allied Force was launched on 24 March, 1999 and relied heavily on US military technology. Although the bombing campaign lasted longer than initially expected and the use of ground forces was in the end considered, Milo˘sevi´c did indicate his acceptance of international demands

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in early June, and agreed to withdraw its security forces and accept a NATOled peace-keeping force and a UN international administration mission in Kosovo. These points were incorporated into Security Council Resolution 1244 which was, however, deliberately ambiguous on the future status of Kosovo. The experience in the 1990s demonstrated that the EU and its member states were ill-prepared to respond to violent conflicts at the EU’s borders. It also showed that any decisive European contribution was precluded by a lack of political will among the member states to engage in the crisis, coupled with different perceptions of the nature of the conflict and the lack of effective institutional mechanisms and capabilities. The conflicts in Bosnia and Kosovo, however, gradually led to an alignment of views among individual member states with regard to the broader policy goals in the Balkans, and to the evolution of CFSP and the creation of ESDP.

3. The position of the member states: Britain, France and Germany The changing positions of member states – in particular Britain, France, and Germany – towards the conflicts in the Balkans, and the evolution of European security institutions are important factors in the evolution of CFSP and ESDP instruments in general, as well as in their application in the Western Balkans. The conflicts in the Balkans led to a rethinking and adjustment of national positions that made possible the creation of ESDP in 1999. Attitudes towards the conflict were initially informed by historical experience, both in relation to the Balkans, and by the general need to rethink the use of military force in the post-Cold War era. This reflects congruence in the sense of an emerging consensus on the need for European security institutions, even if the underlying preferences – strong transatlantic ties in the case of Britain and autonomy in the case of France – remained unchanged (Howorth 2000b). With respect to the Western Balkans, however, the creation of ESDP meant that the EU could begin to realize its ambition of becoming a regional security actor. Britain played a central role throughout the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia even though the Conservative government’s initial perception of the conflict as ‘ethnic’ and ‘historical’ – and thus not one where outside involvement was bound to be effective – resulted in allegations that its policy stance was not only pro-Serbian, but also one of appeasement (Gow 1997: 174). Events on the ground modified views during 1992 and 1993 but Britain and other member states’ reluctance to commit ground forces meant that no credible military threat could be mounted. As long as no direct national interests were considered to be at stake in Bosnia there was also no appetite for a peace enforcement role, even if British forces were deployed under the UNPROFOR mandate, reaching up to 3600 troops in 1995.

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The election of a Labour government under Tony Blair in 1997 proved to be a key factor for the future development of CFSP and ESDP (Whitman 1999). Along with Tony Blair’s commitment to a greater British role within Europe and frustration with the US because of policy differences over Bosnia, the positive experience of Franco-British military co-operation on the ground in Bosnia was a key factor in the bilateral initiative with President Chirac at St Malo to promote closer EU defence co-operation in a wider European framework. In the recognition that European autonomy did not have to mean emancipation from NATO but improvement of European means inside the alliance, Britain dropped its objections to an autonomous European defence for the first time and made possible the creation of ESDP (Howorth 2000d: 33–55). For Blair European commitment to burden-sharing with the US in security policy was a way not only to improve the strategic partnership with the US, but also to improve leadership within the EU and to shape the development of what was to become ESDP. At the Anglo-French summit at St Malo in December 1998 Britain and France issued a Joint Declaration on European Defence that called for the establishment of autonomous capacities backed by credible military force. Blair’s personal moral convictions, coupled with strategic consideration about the region, also led to a more hawkish stance in the war in Kosovo (Bartlett 2000: 131–46) whereas the Conservative government had been perceived as not being forceful enough with the Bosnian Serbs. Britain under the Labour government was the strongest advocate of the use of force, going as far as arguing for military commitment on the ground. For France the end of the Cold War and changed geopolitical realities raised the issue of the role of the EU in European security and the preservation of France’s status, particularly in light of a reunified Germany and the resulting concerns over the geostrategic marginalization of France. Paris played an active role in the various attempts at mediation first through the EC and UN and later through the Contact Group. Bosnia demonstrated to France that its European partners not only lacked the political will but also the confidence for Europe to act alone in security matters (Treacher 2001: 22–44). Neither the EU and the WEU nor the UN could assume a definitive role as security organizations in the post-Cold War era. To avoid marginalization in Europe France modified its vision of the European security architecture, particularly with regards to NATO. Although this did not mean the abandonment of the idea of building an autonomous European defence structure, it did signal a more pragmatic approach, particularly to Britain. Beyond these broader considerations French objectives in the management of the crisis were to put an end to the violence, to assert French role in the peace process and to prevent the conflict from spreading (Lepick 1996: 76–85). France’s initial position towards the conflict was to promote the unity of the Yugoslav state and was marked by a reluctance to blame Serbia for aggression. This stemmed from geopolitical considerations, from the

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historical French–Serbian friendship and from the calculation that France’s mediation would promote its regional and international role in the peace process. Developments in Bosnia, and particularly the siege of Sarajevo by the Bosnian Serbs in June 1992, soon forced a re-evaluation of France’s pro-Serb position. France’s military engagement centred on the delivery of humanitarian aid through UNPROFOR: by February 1993, France had deployed over 4600 troops, more than any other country. Like Britain, France opposed the US proposal of lifting the arms embargo and conducting robust air strikes as it regarded these actions, rather than contributing to a solution, as leading to a wider and more intense war in the Balkans. Still, France took a more assertive stance towards military intervention. The conservative government initiated the creation of safe areas and called for a threat to use air power against Bosnian Serbs following the massacre in the Sarajevo market square. This resulted in the NATO ultimatum to the Bosnian Serbs on 10 February, 1994 to withdraw or place under UNPROFOR control heavy weapons within the 20-kilometre radius ‘heavy weapons exclusion zone’ (Gow 1997: 147). France regarded the conflict in Kosovo as a further test case for European security and illustrative of the need for Europe to have its own military capability independent of the US, a position strengthened by the change in the British position following the election of Tony Blair. Berlin’s international engagement in the Balkans, finally, was guided largely by the principles of post-Second World War German foreign policy – a normative outlook focused on multilateralism, and a culture of restraint with regards to the use of military force. The end of the Cold War and the re-unification, however, had created the need to rethink the degree of international responsibility and role of force in foreign policy (Calic 1996). In light of the close relationship between Germany and the former Yugoslavia based on geographic proximity, close economic relations and the presence of over 700 000 guest workers, Germany had a strong interest in resolving the conflicts in Yugoslavia, and consequently took an active role in the management of the crisis in 1991. Following the international criticism of Germany’s push for early recognition of Slovenia and Croatia, Germany adopted a low profile for the remainder of the conflict and kept in line with its major partners, even if Bonn continued to participate in efforts to settle the war in Bosnia through the Contact Group. As international crisis management shifted to selective military action in Bosnia, Germany for constitutional reasons was unable to contribute military forces. However, the historical taboo against the use of force increasingly eroded in light of post-Cold War realities, starting with allies’ expectations in the first Gulf War, and increasing doubts over whether Germany could remain a credible partner in the transatlantic alliance. On a normative level the humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in Germany’s immediate neighbourhood raised the question of whether pacifism was the only historical lesson to draw from the experience of the Second World War. The conflict

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in Kosovo crystallized these conflicting pressures. German reactions to the crisis marked a watershed in post-war German policy as Berlin for the first time since the end of the Second World War took part in offensive military operations against a sovereign state. Remarkably, this took place under a redgreen coalition government and without a clear UN mandate. The domestic debate over German participation in the war, as well as pressures from its NATO allies to participate in the military campaign, forced the incoming Schröder government to realize that Germany had to take seriously its leadership role. European integration had moved to the top of the list of German national interests, even if the justifications for participation in the military intervention were drawn primarily from an evocation of the German past, not just future European interests (Hofmann 1999). Against the backdrop of the Rambouillet negotiations and subsequent NATO bombing campaign in the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, the German EU presidency in the first half of 1999 worked to turn the British–French bilateral initiative at St Malo into a European reality. At the European Council of Cologne in 1999 Javier Solana was appointed as the first CFSP High Representative, and leaders agreed to limit the defence capacity of the EU to the ‘Petersberg Tasks’. By the end of the decade, in fact, views among the three member states had sufficiently converged to allow the creation of autonomous security institutions as well as agreement on the broad policy objectives towards the region, which would focus both on the region’s economic development and on prospects of eventual EU membership.

4. EU crisis management and ESDP operations in the Western Balkans: FYROM, Bosnia and Kosovo Despite – or because of – the inadequate performance of the CFSP in the Balkans throughout the 1990s, it has been argued that policies towards the region present ‘an opportunity (    ), a test of [the EU’s] commitment to the region, to a wider Europe, and to a mature common foreign and security policy’ (Solana 2000). The Balkans are also explicitly mentioned as a priority area in the European Security Strategy (European Council 2003) and are considered a test ground for the new capabilities under ESDP. Since the creation of CFSP and ESDP instruments the EU has indeed achieved some success in crisis management in the Western Balkans and has launched a number of ESDP missions in the region. The crisis in FYROM in 2001, while much smaller in scale than the conflicts in Bosnia and Kosovo, was a particularly urgent issue for EU member states because of the previous experience in the Western Balkans and the potential repercussions of another regional conflict for European security as a whole. The EU was active in FYROM early on in the crisis and successfully employed economic as well as political incentives in the resolution of the conflict and the eventual signing of the Ohrid Framework Agreement on 8 August, 2001.

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The emerging division of labour had NATO broker security arrangements between the NLA and the government security forces and generally provide the military deterrent, whereas the EU and US encouraged political dialogue and confidence-building measures (Eldridge 2002: 65). With respect to the EU CFSP, the new institutional framework that had been created with the Treaty of Amsterdam and the Cologne European Council was put into use in FYROM during the first half of 2001. The creation of the Policy Unit, and therefore the presence of a permanent representative in Skopje even in the absence of Javier Solana, provided continuity. Javier Solana played a visible and effective role in managing the crisis through frequent visits to Skopje and, in conjunction with NATO Secretary General Lord Robertson, was crucial in mediating cease-fires, establishing a government of national unity and bringing political leaders – Albanian as well as their Macedonian counterparts – to the negotiating table to work out a political agreement. As for the use of Community instruments in resolving the crisis, the Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA) with FYROM, proposed by the EU contingent on political dialogue on reforms between the two ethnic groups and signed on 9 April, 2001, also proved to be an important political and economic incentive for the resolution of the conflict. Apart from the successful political mediation leading to the Ohrid Agreement in August 2001 and NATO Operation Essential Harvest on 27 August, 2001 the EU also expressed an interest in an ESDP takeover of the NATO mission, reflecting member states’ increasing convergence towards an EU role in the stabilization of the Western Balkans. Given the scale of the operation, the relative lack of risk involved, and the operation’s symbolic character for EU crisis management, ‘the question was not if, but when, the EU would take over the NATO operation’.5 At the Barcelona Summit in March 2002 the European Council announced its willingness to take over NATO’s operation in FYROM, although the dispute between Greece and Turkey over EU access to NATO assets prevented the formulation of a timetable for EU troops to assume the mission. After the EU and NATO reached the ‘Berlin-plus’ agreement that gives the EU access to NATO assets for crisis management, EU foreign ministers formally approved the first EU military mission in FYROM, which was to contribute to a stable secure environment and to allow the implementation of the August 2001 Ohrid Framework Agreement.6 Operation Concordia was launched on 31 March, 2003 with Admiral Rainer Feist, the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR), as Operation Commander. EU liaison officers were working alongside their NATO colleagues in the NATO command structure, both at the strategic level in a EU cell at the Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) in Mons, Belgium, and at regional level at Allied Forces Southern Europe (AFSOUTH) in Naples, Italy.7 It was the first EU operation to draw on the ‘Berlin-plus’ agreement and it involved 350 lightly armed military

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personnel. Initially expected to last six months its mandate was extended until 15 December, 2003 after which a police operation (Operation Proxima) succeeded Concordia to help FYROM authorities develop their police forces.8 Despite some practical operational difficulties, Concordia helped build stability and confidence, and, together with continued international engagement of OSCE as well as NATO, demonstrated the continued international interest in FYROM. Operation Proxima, whose mission was extended until December 2005, consisted of 200 unarmed policy plus local staff and has produced some results (Ioannides 2006: 69–87).9 The ESDP operations in FYROM have accomplished a number of goals: they have established the EU as a security actor on the ground and in Brussels; and have tested civilian and military planning and chain of command procedures. The security situation in FYROM has improved as a result of the operations carried out. Whereas Concordia established and tested ESDP military structures and established the EU as a security actor in the region,10 Proxima contained useful lessons in the planning of a mission as well as in questions pertaining to the chain of command and overall political oversight. However, the local conditions and constraints on the ESDP operation were exacerbated by the fragmented nature of the EU’s presence in FYROM (composed as it was of the head of the ESDP mission, the EU Special Representative and the head of the EU Commission delegation). Unsurprisingly, there were charges of poor co-ordination between these individual institutional actors and also between the members of Proxima and those of the Commission police reform project of the European Agency for Reconstruction in FYROM.11 The double-hatting of Erwan Fouéré as EU Special Representative and Head of Delegation decided in late 2005 has gone some way in rectifying this. Other than in the case of FYROM, where both ESDP missions have been relatively successful, the picture is more complicated in Bosnia. As in FYROM, the EU intends to demonstrate its capability as an international actor but faces a challenging task. The main security challenges facing the country have changed since 1995 and now include organized crime, the apprehension of war criminals, extremist religious groups, and border security (International Crisis Group 2004). Apart from stabilization and implementation of the Dayton Agreement, in Bosnia the EU is also engaged in state building and the challenge is for Bosnia to achieve a transition from its current status as a protectorate to a sustainable self-governing state. The EU Police Mission (EUPM), the first ESDP mission ever, replaced the Dayton-mandated International Police Task Force (IPTF) on 1 January, 2003 and marked an important step in the assumption of greater responsibility for Bosnia’s security by the EU. EUPM has some 879 personnel, 476 seconded police officers, 67 international civilians and 336 local staff from Bosnia.12 EUPM has four strategic priorities: police independence and accountability, organized crime and corruption, financial viability and sustainability, and

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institution and capacity-building at management level. Like Operation Proximal it seeks to provide guidance and a framework for reform and policing. Through political guidance of the Office of the High Representative for Bosnia and Herzegovina and advice from other organizations in Bosnia, EUPM has claimed some successes, but there are strong indications that Bosnia is a long way from having the sort of law-enforcement system laid out in EUPM’s mission statement (International Crisis Group 2005). With respect to the military ESDP operation in Bosnia, the Copenhagen summit in 2002 expressed the ‘Union’s willingness to lead a military operation in Bosnia following SFOR’.13 The operation undertaken in the framework of the Berlin Plus agreement was given the green light by the foreign ministers on 26–27 April, 2004, and NATO’s Istanbul summit in June 2004 confirmed it for implementation in December. The EUFOR–Althea operation, launched on 2 December, 2004 as a Chapter VII mission under the UN Charter, is by far the biggest operation the EU has undertaken. With around 7000 troops, a number that is presently to be gradually reduced, EUFOR–Althea far exceeds any current ESDP mission. Its responsibilities include assisting Bosnian defence and security reforms, carrying out anti-terrorist activities and pursuing individuals indicted by The Hague Tribunal.14 The last two tasks are performed by both NATO and EU forces. Given Bosnian scepticism about the EU, continued US support and NATO co-operation will be vital for the success of the EUFOR Operation. In addition to Althea’s official mandate,15 Althea should also indirectly pave the way towards the negotiations and the eventual signing of a Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA) between Bosnia and the European Union.16 With the deployment of Althea the EU is now in a better position to coordinate activities, in particular between the police forces, the military and the reconstruction programmes. At the same time these improvements also mean that there is now a greater need to co-ordinate activities of European institutions in Brussels as well as the various security actors on the ground. The division of labour between the EU and its international partners is not entirely defined. On the one hand, there has been pressure to reduce the number of the troops deployed in Bosnia both in Washington and Brussels, and the war on terror has shifted the priorities of the US and its closest allies to Afghanistan and Iraq. Many US and EU officials believe that SFOR has achieved its core military task in Bosnia, and the Bush administration was reluctant to involve NATO in state building projects. On the other hand, Washington’s overall aim is to preserve European and transatlantic institutions from the threat of a failed state in Bosnia. This means that there have to be guarantees that the results obtained will not be lost after a US withdrawal from the region. As a result neither NATO nor the US seem ready to leave peace-keeping exclusively to the EU. NATO retains a small headquarters of 200 personnel in Sarajevo, whose responsibilities include providing advice on defence reform, to enhance Partnership for Peace (PfP)

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capabilities, to provide assistance in counter-terrorism and in the detention of persons indicted for war crimes. As in FYROM, the ESDP missions in Bosnia fulfilled a dual function: that of putting the EU ESDP on the map as a regional security actor in a more challenging environment, and to improve the policing and security environment in Bosnia itself. However, the concurrent police and military missions initially were not ideally co-ordinated: the initial mandate of EUPM was not entirely suited for conditions on the ground whereas EUFOR–Althea was faced with having to fill the void in the fight against organized crime, even if the military is arguably not the best instrument for doing so, as was recognized by members of EUFOR themselves.17 In addition to issues of general problems of inter-pillar coherence, which poses a general problem of ESDP operations,18 coherence between the two ESDP operations was, at least initially, not achieved. However, a strengthened EUPM mandate is to improve co-ordination and better implementation in the future.19 Still, the EU must prove it can co-ordinate complex civil and military matters. With respect to the impending ESDP operation in Kosovo the key challenges for the EU concern the size of the mission and the right mandate, which is to be ‘as light as possible and as robust as necessary’. In the planning and execution of this operation it is key that the EU absorbs the lesson learned from previous ESDP missions.

5. From stabilization to integration: economic initiatives, regional co-operation and integration Over the past five years the EU has obtained some successes in crisis management in the Balkans, a fact that supports the argument that convergence has taken place with respect to the application of ESDP instruments in the Western Balkans. However, the challenges posed by the region well exceed those that can be mediated by CFSP and ESDP instruments – and this demonstrates that a successful EU foreign policy towards the Balkans must include Community instruments as well as CFSP/ESDP instruments. Economic cooperation and the promise of European integration, therefore, not only constitute important incentives for regional reforms and stability, but also underpin the stabilization efforts and provide the broader policy framework in which EU action takes place. Since 1999 the EU has not only assumed a bigger role in the political mediation of crises and in addressing the various security threats in the region, but has also engaged in economic reconstruction and integration by adopting a larger regional approach designed to stabilize and offer a European perspective to the countries of the region. Following the Dayton Peace Accord in 1995 the EU extended the regional approach used towards the accession countries in Central and Eastern Europe

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to the Western Balkans.20 The concept of conditionality was added for the Western Balkans in order to improve relations between the individual countries and the EU. After the end of the Kosovo crisis two additional economic and political processes were implemented in the Western Balkans. Germany, which held the EU Presidency in the first half of 1999, initiated the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe. Although the idea of a Stability Pact itself was not new, the novelty of the German approach was to offer the countries of the Western Balkans the perspective of membership in the Euro-Atlantic structures. Organized into three units, or so-called Working Tables, the Stability Pact brings together more than 40 partner countries and organizations to strengthen the countries of South Eastern Europe ‘in their efforts to foster peace, democracy, respect for human rights and economic prosperity in order to achieve stability in the whole region’.21 Despite some concern about offering membership perspective to the individual Balkan countries, EU member states responded positively to the idea, mainly because the EU had to act quickly and had to assert its capacity to lead, especially as leadership in the military operations in Bosnia and in the Kosovo crisis had been conceded to the US (Friis and Murphy 2000: 767–86). Parallel with the Stability Pact, the EU at the Zagreb Summit in November 2000 also created the Stabilization and Association Process (SAP) for the Western Balkans that for the first time used association with the EU as an instrument for the strengthening of the stability of the region. The EU– Western Balkans Summit of Thessaloniki on 21 June, 2003 affirmed the perspective of integration and eventual EU membership for the countries of the region.22 The Community Assistance for Reconstruction, Development and Stabilization (CARDS) programme is the most important instrument for the release of funds. Overall the EU is by far the most important financial partner for the Western Balkans: over the period from 2002–6 the five countries in the region stand to receive E4.65 billion through CARDS and SAP. While the number of initiatives and the financial commitments to the Western Balkans are considerable and do offer a long-term perspective towards the region, there are some inherent risks in these initiatives. With regards to integration the prospect of eventual EU membership is arguably the most important incentive for political and economic reform in the individual countries and represents a significant engagement on the part of the EU. However, with the exception of Croatia, with whom the EU has decided to start membership talks,23 other countries in the region are far from fulfilling the Copenhagen Criteria. The sheer number of financial programmes implemented through the SAP as well as through the Stability Pact poses the problem of coherence particularly as the SAP has fostered co-operation between the individual countries and the EU, but has not succeeded in building regional economic and political co-operation.

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Conclusion: a common foreign policy? Outstanding challenges The European Security Strategy adopted in December 2003 is very explicit in its characterization of the importance of the Balkans in European regional security. Noting the success of the EU and its international partners in reducing the risks of further outbreaks of conflicts in the region, the ESS adds that ‘the credibility of [EU’s] foreign policy depends on the consolidation of our achievement [in the Balkans]. The European perspective offers both a strategic objective and an incentive for reform’ (European Council 2003). The experience of the 1990s has indeed forged a broad consensus among EU member states, as well as between the EU and US, on long-term policy objectives for the region, supporting the argument of member states’ convergence on the view that the EU is to assume responsibility for the security in the Western Balkans. However, there still exist significant challenges that have the potential to threaten regional stability, for example, resolving the status question of Kosovo (an issue in which active US involvement will be of critical importance), building a viable state in Bosnia, the fight against organized crime and the reform of the security sector in the Western Balkans. For the EU this means the necessity for a strengthened commitment, particularly with regards to the process of accession for the individual Western Balkans countries. Meeting these challenges in turn has implications for the EU’s effectiveness and credibility on the ground. A degree of ‘enlargement fatigue’ on the part of existing member states, and the rejection of the EU Constitution in France and the Netherlands in the summer of 2005, have raised doubts over the prospects of eventual EU membership for the individual Western Balkan countries. In addition the number of EU actors and initiatives in the region means that there is no clear image of the EU as a unitary political actor, a fact that can prove damaging to the EU’s political impact and its effectiveness. Furthermore, the problem remains of co-ordination between economic, political, diplomatic and military instruments. In order to move ‘from state-building to memberstate building’,24 the broad consensus forged over the course of the 1990s and the policies adopted for stabilization and integration must not only prove sufficiently durable to address these problems, but must be further invigorated in order to face the challenges ahead.

Notes 1. Since the end of the conflicts in the region, the EU has grouped the countries of the former Yugoslavia under the broader geographical term Western Balkans, which includes Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Serbia and Montenegro, and the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM). 2. Although FYROM was granted candidate status on 17 December, 2005 no date for the start of membership talks has been specified.

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3. The Contact Group was formed in 1994 and comprised of senior officials from Britain, France, Germany, Russia and the US in order to better co-ordinate policy towards the Balkans. 4. From 2002 Paddy Ashdown also acted as EU Special Representative. He was succeeded by Christian Schwarz-Schilling in January 2006. 5. Interview with EU official, July 2005, Brussels. 6. Council Joint Action 2003/92/CFSP, Brussels, 27 January, 2003, http://ue.eu.int/uedocs/cmsUpload/COUNCIL%20JOINT%20ACTION%202003% 2092%20CFSP.pdf 7. Council of the European Union, Appointment of the Operation Commander and the Force Commander for the EU force in the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, 6158/03 (Presse 38), Brussels, 7 February, 2003. 8. Council Joint Action 2003/681/CFSP, 29 September, 2003 on the European Union Police Mission in the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (EUPOL ‘Proxima’), http://ue.eu.int/uedocs/cmsUpload/Council%20Joint%20Action%202003%206 81%20CFSP.pdf 9. Operation Proxima was succeeded by a six months EU Police Advisory Team (EUPAT) to facilitate the transition between an ESDP operation and a Commission-led police reform project. 10. As well as in Brussels – as the first ESDP military mission also served to familiarize/socialize EU institutions with military procedures and components. Interview, member state official, 22 May, 2006. 11. See Yusufi (2005). 12. See Fact-sheet EU Police Mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina (EUPM)http:// www.eupm.org/MissionOverview.asp 13. Copenhagen European Council, Presidency Conclusions. 12 and 13 December, 2002,http://ue.eu.int/ueDocs/cms_Data/docs/pressdata/en/ec/73842.pdf 14. See fact-sheet on EU military operation in Bosnia and Herzegovina (Operation EUFOR–Althea) – December 2005, http://ue.eu.int/uedocs/cmsUpload/ 051210Althea7.pdf 15. See Council Joint Action 2004/570/CFSP of 12 July 2004, http://europa.eu.int/eurlex/pri/en/oj/dat/2004/l_252/l_25220040728en00100014.pdf 16. SAA talks formally opened in January 2006. 17. Interview with member state official, Brussels, May 2006. 18. On this point see House of Lords Select Committee on the European Union (2003). 19. Interview with member state official, Brussels, May 2006. 20. The regional approach consists of contractual relations between the EU and individual countries as well as programmes aimed at financial co-operation. 21. For details see www.stabilitypact.org 22. See EU–Western Balkans Summit – Thessaloniki, 21 June, 2003, Declaration 10229/03 (Press 163) http:// ue.eu.int/ueDocs/cms_Data/docs/pressData/ en/misc/76291.pdf 23. Accession negotiations were launched on 4 October, 2005 after Zagreb was found to be ‘fully-co-operating’ with The Hague war crimes tribunal. 24. This point is stressed in the April 2005 report of the International Commission on the Balkans, The Balkans in Europe’s Future,http://www.balkancommission.org/activities/Report.pdf

8 The EU and the Arab–Israeli Peace Process1 Costanza Musu

Introduction. European foreign policy and the Arab–Israeli peace process: the paradox of ‘converging parallels’? The objective of this chapter is not to offer an historical reconstruction of the role of the EU in the Arab–Israeli peace process, but rather to use the Arab–Israeli peace process as an instrument to conceptualize European Union foreign policy. European policy towards the Middle East in fact, and in particular towards the Arab–Israeli conflict and peace process, constitutes an ideal case study for the problem of political integration in the EU (Soetendorp 2002). The Middle East has been one of the most widely debated issues among member states in the past 35 years and was one of the items discussed at the first EPC meeting in 1970. European countries are directly and indirectly involved in the Arab–Israeli conflict because of their geographical proximity to the region, their dependence on Middle Eastern oil, their fears of an insecurity spillover, but also because of the special relationship that many member states have with the region as a consequence of their past as colonial powers (Greilsammer and Weiler 1987) and because of historical memories from the complex patterns of persecution of European Jews, and of occupation and collaboration during the Second World War. The study of European Middle East policy offers the opportunity to test the ability of member states to harmonize their distinct foreign policies, to identify common interests and to proceed along the road of further integration and towards the elaboration of a common European foreign policy. The central question the chapter attempts to answer is the following: has convergence between the EU member states reached such an advanced qualitative level as to allow the formulation of a truly collective policy towards the Middle East, or is the EU’s policy simply one of ‘converging parallels’?2 To anyone familiar with the Euclidean system of geometry the idea of ‘converging parallels’ will immediately come across as a geometrical impossibility. The word ‘parallel’ designates ‘two or more straight lines that 112

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do not intersect [    ] being an equal distance apart everywhere’. Parallel lines have the same tendency or direction but never converge. Conversely, further research will determine that the meaning of the word ‘converging’ is ‘to tend toward an intersecting point or a common conclusion or result’.3 It appears then that converging parallels cannot, indeed, exist; but in effect what seems to be a paradox in the world of geometry actually appears to be a reality in the world of European foreign policy, and even more so in the policy towards the Middle East. For over 35 years the member states of the EC and then of the EU have debated the Middle East, have issued declarations of all sorts, but have also engaged in more practical initiatives, geared to financing the Palestinian Authority, arguably not very successfully or very effectively. It is ultimately possible to identify a ‘European approach’, broadly speaking, to the Middle East conflict – an approach that is, in appearance if not in substance, different from that of the United States and that, after having been clearly set out in the Venice Declaration of 1980, in many respects has not been appreciably modified since (Ortega 2003). But behind the façade of this common approach there lies the enduring reality of distinctly different national approaches to the issue, conflicting priorities and diverse and sometimes diverging interests. It is the dynamics of the relation between national foreign policies and foreign policy at the EU level towards the Arab-Israeli conflict that this chapter attempts to analyse, with the objective of establishing what has encouraged convergence and to what extent a collective policy has been achieved; and what, on the other hand, has kept national policies ‘parallel’ and therefore separate and clearly distinct from each other.

2. Some reflections on the concept of convergence Before analysing the specific problem of EU Middle East policy, it is worth considering the issue of convergence itself. As Helen Wallace has pointed out, ‘much of the literature about EU policy integration and much of the discourse of practitioners, and indeed the formal EU texts, talk about policy convergence as either a prerequisite for agreement or a desired outcome of agreement’ (H. Wallace 2000: 58). On the economic front the EU set out in the EC Treaty four convergence criteria – price stability, government finances, exchange rates and long-term exchange rates – that reflect the degree of economic convergence member states had to achieve: each member state was called to satisfy all four criteria in order to become part of the euro area. However, in the intergovernmental framework within which the EU’s CFSP is elaborated, member states have hitherto displayed little desire to set out binding foreign policy convergence criteria that might limit their freedom of action. Acknowledging the fact that nevertheless co-ordination and convergence – albeit in an informal, incremental and not codified fashion – does take place in the

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sphere of foreign policy, it remains to be seen what factors can encourage or impede them. A first set of factors are what could be referred to as the ‘exogenous variables’, which include: • Pressure for collective or at least co-ordinated EU action coming from the international arena as a consequence of external expectations linked to the EU’s perceived role as a global actor. The increasing presence of the EU as a relevant actor on the international scene and its undeniable relevance in economic terms cannot but raise expectations with regards to a potentially significant influence of the Union on the course of events. • Pressure exerted on the EU by external interlocutors who are also actors involved in the issues at stake (in the case of Middle East policy the Arab states, the United States, Israel and the Palestinian Authority). It must be noted, however, that pressure from the actors involved may be of very diverse, if not openly contradictory, nature: pressure for increased EU involvement and action (e.g. from the Palestinians), countered by pressure for the EU to remain uninvolved (e.g. from the United States). The second set of factors are what could be called the ‘endogenous variables’, which include: • The similarity/dissimilarity of what member states come to define as their interests, which inform national political agendas and priorities. • The existence of common institutions at the EU level that are responsible for the implementation of certain aspects of a given policy, decided upon in the intergovernmental framework and which in turn also shape the policy itself. • The progressive harmonization of the political discourse through the practice of continuous political discussion and bargaining within the various working groups and committees and the constant contacts between diplomatic services that have worked together for a number of years. • The development of a common political vision, a fairly similar approach to a given geographical region, the tendency to privilege a certain diplomatic style that distinguishes the EU from other international actors. But if these are the factors that may encourage convergence in the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy, nevertheless one crucial point should not be overlooked: collective action might be triggered not by a true convergence, but rather by congruence. As Helen Wallace has put it, congruence can be defined as ‘the compatibility of the policy actors’ preferences as the basis for establishing a shared policy regime. Different policy actors may have different preferences, but none the less choose the same collective

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action. Congruent preferences imply conditional commitments to collective regimes. Convergence of preferences may produce longer term stability of policy regimes’ (H. Wallace 2000: 58). In analysing convergence in EU Middle East policy we shall endeavour to identify the cases in which real convergence has been achieved, and those in which a collective action has been undertaken exclusively on the basis of different but congruent preferences. In the next section an analysis of the above mentioned endogenous and exogenous variables and of their interaction will be conducted, in order to establish if, and to what extent, their combined pressure have brought about a true convergence in the European member states’ policies towards the Middle East.

3. Elements of convergence in EU’s policy towards the peace process 3.1 Exogenous variables: external pressures The EU’s policy towards the Arab–Israeli peace process is subject to pressures of very different kinds: there is first of all the ‘general’ international pressure deriving from the growing role of the EU as a global actor and consequently from expectations for an effective EU role in an area of high political instability. This pressure, in turn, generates internal EU expectations in relation to the CFSP and a demand for greater activity and decisiveness in foreign policy. As Christopher Hill put it, ‘the need to deal with powerful or problematic countries such as the United States or Israel has to some extent already imposed discipline and caution on the European group’. (Hill 1997: 38). Member states have also been subjected to pressures for increased European involvement in the peace process by the international community through the United Nations: if, on a political level, the UN General Secretary wants to work with the US, the EU’s involvement is nonetheless very positively perceived, both from an economic point of view and because of the prospect that the EU might contribute to mitigate the United States’ unilateral approach. Europe has supported the idea of the United Nations as the proper forum to discuss the peace process in a multilateral framework from the beginning, a position in line with the EU’s political culture of multilateralism and its inclination to support multilateral rules and institutions (Pollack 2003: 116). Secondly, there is the specific pressure coming from some of the main actors involved in the Arab–Israeli dispute, namely the Arab states (Roberson 1998; Ortega 2003). Since the early days of EPC, Arab states have tried to involve Europe in the peace process hoping that EC/EU policy could counterbalance American policy, which they see as being biased in favour of Israel. Following the 1973 oil crisis this pressure was exercised mainly using the card of European dependence on Middle East oil, and at first resulted not only in a shift of the EC towards a more pro-Arab stance, but also in strong

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competition among the member states themselves to ensure oil supplies. After 1973 and the Europeans’ full realization of their dependence on oil imports, the EC/EU has undertaken a number of initiatives to institutionalize its relations with the region: from the Global Mediterranean Policy to the Euro–Arab Dialogue, the EC–Gulf Dialogue, the Barcelona process, the Common Mediterranean Strategy and the European Neighbourhood Policy. The EU has attempted to focus these initiatives mainly on the economic dimension or on wider issues of regional security, whereas the Arab states have exerted all possible pressure to widen their political significance and to force the EU to assume a more proactive role in the Arab-Israeli peace process. However, if these are pressures for a deeper EU involvement in the peace process, pressures of an exactly opposite nature are exerted on Europe by other actors involved: the United States and Israel. The US, which is and wants to remain the main mediator between the Arabs and the Israelis, opposed a European involvement in the peace process from day one, especially once the strong differences between American and EC/EU positions on the issue became clear. The US has often accused the Europeans of being unable to resist the pressure coming from the Arabs and of seeking to eliminate obstacles to commerce through political accommodation (Musu and Wallace 2003). The EU takes a completely different view on the matter, arguing that commerce may be viewed as a means of gaining political influence, and that trade and co-operation are to underpin peace; nonetheless, it has very often had to give in to American pressures and downscale the contents of its initiatives to avoid excessive damage to transatlantic relations, which after all are more important to the EU than its Middle East policy. In the dilemma of Europe’s double dependency – on the Arab countries for energy, investment capital and export markets, and on the United States for protection and diplomatic progress – it is usually transatlantic relations that have priority over other considerations. Recently the US seemed to have modified its attitude towards a formal European involvement in the peace process: in 2002 Colin Powell announced the formation of a ‘Middle East Quartet’, formed by the US, the EU, Russia and the UN. The focus of this approach was on pursuing a twostate solution of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, with the active engagement of outside actors. The Quartet’s three-phase implementation ‘Roadmap’, however, which was meant to achieve a final settlement by 2005, has failed and, at the time of writing, it remains unclear to what extent the US administration is seriously committed to this ‘multilateral exercise’, or if the Quartet is supposed to give an illusion of international involvement in the peace process while the US maintain its primary role in the negotiations. Parallel to the United States’ hostility to EU involvement in the peace process comes the Israeli opposition, which took shape as early as 1967,

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immediately after the Six Day War, when for the first time European public opinion – especially from the left – became critical of Israel and shifted its support to the Palestinians. The fracture between Europe and Israel became deeper with the accession to power in 1977 of the Likud party, which had much stronger ties with the United States than the Labour Party, which had been traditionally much closer to Europe. Perceiving Europe’s position as biased in favour of the Palestinians and influenced by the Arab states and by economic considerations, Israel has opposed EU political involvement in the peace process and made every effort to keep it within the boundaries of economic support to the Palestinian Authority. In 2005 Israel, at American insistence, accepted the EU’s offer to supervise the Rafah border crossing between Gaza and Egypt at the conclusion of Israel’s unilateral withdrawal from the Gaza Strip. Furthermore, during the hostilities with Hezbollah in August 2006, Israel accepted (and encouraged) the deployment of a large interposition force to reinforce the existing UN mission to Lebanon (UNIFIL) as a condition for a ceasefire. On 25 August, 2006 EU foreign ministers met for a so-called troop-generating conference and agreed to deploy a total of almost 7000 troops to Lebanon as a peace-keeping force. The mission is run under the aegis of the UN, but the most significant military presence is European. Indeed, Italy and France lead the force and have sent 3000 and 2500 troops respectively. These developments might indicate an improvement in Israel–EU relations, but it is far from signifying a full acceptance on Israel’s part of an official involvement of the EU in the negotiations (Musu 2006). In the eyes of the Israeli government Europe has over the years made three tactical errors that have doomed its role as an acceptable mediator in the peace process: it demanded that Israel make concessions to the Palestinians in advance of direct peace negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians; it made concessions to the Palestinians that prejudged Israeli interests in advance of direct peace negotiations; and it insisted on the United Nations as the appropriate forum for negotiations towards a comprehensive peace settlement, knowing that this was totally unacceptable to Israel (Ginsberg 2001). In Israel’s view, the EU should have a secondary role and seek to achieve complementarity of policy initiatives with the United States.4 It is plausible to say that, given the opposite nature of the converging – or rather diverging – external pressures hitherto described, which would probably in the end nullify each other, and the natural tendency of the EU to inaction or to limited and irresolute action in foreign policy, the final result might quite easily have been an absence of initiative on the EU’s part and a lack of motivation in searching for policy co-ordination in the Middle East,5 were it not for a number of other endogenous factors that came into play and forced the EU to try to co-ordinate its policy towards the Middle East.

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3.2 Endogenous variables: national interests As previously mentioned, European countries are directly implicated in the Arab–Israeli conflict because of their geographic proximity, their dependence on oil and security needs, as well as the historical role played by several of them in the region. Harmonizing the EU’s member states’ viewpoints on the Arab–Israeli conflict is a task that has always proved difficult. As a brief overview of their approach to the Middle East demonstrates, the specific individual interests of the member states differ appreciably, and very often policy co-ordination has been obtained not on the basis of convergence but rather on the basis of congruence, that is, of a sufficient compatibility of member state preferences allowing the elaboration of a common policy. The analysis will focus on four countries that have been particularly active in trying to influence EU Middle East policy: France, Germany, the UK and Italy. The objective is to show how, albeit for totally differing reasons, EU member states have come to support, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, the idea of a common European policy towards the Arab–Israeli peace process. France. It is France that has most often taken the lead in European initiatives in the Middle East. Since the late 1960s, France’s policy has been characterized by a clear pro-Arab stance and its priority has clearly been the promotion of closer relations with Arab states. Many common declarations of the EC and then of the EU bear the clear mark of France’s influence and reflect the acceptance of the political line suggested by France, particularly with regard to the Palestinian question. This contributed, Israelis argue, to creating the first deep fractures between Israel and the EU.6 French governments have promoted the EU’s international activity as a vehicle for those initiatives France alone cannot accomplish, and which are intended to supplement French efforts at a national level. The European presence is particularly useful in those areas of the world where French influence is weak and American hegemony is strong, where memories of France’s colonial past are still strong, and where the scale of economic aid and investment required is beyond the scope of French bilateral capabilities (Blunden 2000). France has sought to project a strong European political voice, to complement and amplify its national voice. Nicole Gnesotto has argued that ‘Europe is to France what the United States is to Britain, the optimum multiplier of national power’ (Gnesotto 1998). On the other hand, as France’s former Foreign Minister Hubert Vedrine underlined: ‘the political construction of the Union as an amplifier of French power does not oblige France to abandon sovereignty’.7 It may be said that, for France, in general terms Europe is about ‘adding’ not ‘subtracting’. And in specific terms it is about asserting independence from the United States. As for the Middle East, French governments have utilized a multilateral, European approach to promote French interests. Following the Gulf War in 1991 France accelerated the Europeanization of its foreign policy

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in the Arab world. It supported and promoted European initiatives in the Mediterranean to counterbalance the shift of the European centre of gravity towards the North East determined by the enlargement process, as well as to compete more effectively with the dominant American position in the region. However, this has not ruled out simultaneous and complementary invocations of privileged bilateral links with a number of countries in the Mediterranean area. To France the EU offers effective leverage and a vehicle for reasserting French influence in the region: substantial EU aid to the Palestinian Authority has amplified the by no means insignificant French bilateral protocols. France’s policy of providing financial and diplomatic support to the Palestinians has become European policy, thus placing European means at the service of a French vision of the Arab-Israeli conflict and its solution. Parallel with France’s desire to protect the interests it deems more relevant for the nation is also the desire to develop a different and independent policy from that of the United States: this objective has long been an important priority for France and has been pursued at times by pushing for greater European assertiveness, but on other occasions by launching autonomous French initiatives with no prior consultations with the other EU member states, as in the case of Chirac’s 1996 tour of the Middle East,8 therefore causing tensions with the European allies and embarrassment to the EU as a whole for its inability to express a coherent policy. In August 2006, the war in Lebanon gave France ‘the chance to shine again on the world stage’.9 France had a central role in helping to negotiate the text of the UN Security Council resolution aimed at ending the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon. Having initially committed to send up to 5000 troops to Lebanon as a contribution to the UN interposition force, France became very hesitant however when the moment came to put ‘boots on the ground’. Wariness of the unclear rules of engagement resulted in France changing its offer to only 200 troops. Only after several days, and lengthy diplomatic discussions with Italy (who had committed to send the second largest contingent to Lebanon), did France announce that it would send up to 3000 troops. Germany. Germany has made a fundamental contribution in steering integration and shaping the EU’s rules and agenda priorities, as part of its attempt to shape its regional milieu (Bulmer et al. 2000). However, for obvious historical reasons, Germany’s relations with Israel are a highly sensitive issue and German governments have often hesitated to criticize Israeli policy too harshly: to use the words of Lord Weidenfeld, on the issue of Middle East policy Germany is ‘torn and confused’.10 Germany has clear interests in the achievement of stability in the Middle East, but it hesitates to exert its diplomatic clout, especially against Israel towards which it feels a sense of special responsibility (Perthes 2002). For Germany the possibility of shifting national positions under the guise

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of a search for a common European position has been attractive: taking advantage of a sort of ‘shield effect’, it has initiated a rapprochement to the Arab world claiming this to be an ‘unavoidable price’ to pay for the achievement of a unified European position and solidarity, while at the same time avoiding upsetting domestic public opinion. Given the reconciliation and the special relationship Germany has developed with Israel since the Holocaust, this remarkable reorientation of policy would not have been conceivable outside the framework of EPC/CFSP (Overhaus et al. 2002). Germany has recently been able to capitalize on its good relations with Israel by launching peace initiatives independently or under the aegis of the EU, initiatives that would otherwise have been difficult to realize given the strained relations between Israel and the EU.11 The United Kingdom. The UK is somehow torn between two different tendencies: on the one hand, given its historical past as colonial power, it has a natural inclination to encourage European initiatives in the peace process and is very reluctant to accept the secondary role to which the EU is relegated. On the other hand, its close ties with the United States and the high priority given to transatlantic relations prompt the UK to exercise caution in encouraging the development of an independent EU policy towards the peace process that so often not only differs from the American policy, but goes openly against it. More than 20 years ago Geoffrey Edwards argued that ‘there has been an essential duality of purpose in British policy irrespective of the political complexion of the government; this has been to influence the Arabs as far as possible to take a more conciliatory attitude and to influence the Americans to press the Israelis to the same end’ (Edwards 1984: 49). This is still largely true today. In an interview with the author, former British Secretary of State for Defence and Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, Sir Malcolm Rifkind, underlined how the member states – including Britain – share a genuinely common view of the preferred settlement of the Arab– Israeli conflict: security for Israel, creation of a Palestinian state, cessation of the use of terrorism on the part of the Palestinians, and of the expansion of the settlements on the part of the Israelis.12 However, he argued, the British position differs from that of some other member states (France in particular) in that it sees increased EU involvement in the political negotiations as a ‘distraction’ in a domain that should be left to the Americans. The EU’s involvement should be limited to those activities that are welcomed by the Arabs, the Israelis and the Americans, first among them the economic support provided to the Palestinian Authority. Italy. Italy supports a strong European involvement in the peace process mainly within the framework of a broader Mediterranean policy, which should be one of the top European priorities from the Italian point of view,

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not to be neglected in favour of a policy more concentrated on the Northern dimension and on enlargement problems (Silvestri 1998). Italy’s perception of the risk of being marginalized owing to the EU’s eastward enlargement has indeed increased, promoting what Gianni De Michelis, former Italian Foreign Minister, has defined as ‘the conscious adoption of a well-defined geopolitical perspective qualifying Italy’s actions and initiatives in Europe and in the world’,13 namely, the so-called Mediterranean dimension of the European Union. This was to be a complementary and balancing element to the Baltic configuration resulting from the decision to expand the Union to 27 members. Europe taking on a Baltic configuration threatened to relegate Italy to a more marginal role, making even Northern Italy a peripheral region and sentencing the Mediterranean to a future of instability, conflict and under-development. On the other hand, explicit affirmation of Europe’s Mediterranean dimension would make the exclusion of Italy from the group of guiding countries unthinkable. Good relations with most Arab states and with the Palestinians remain by and large a constant factor in Italy’s policy, but its relations with Israel have been ambivalent. Italy’s policy towards Israel has spanned from the colder and critical attitude of the Forlani and Andreotti governments, to the stance of the Berlusconi government, which advocated Israel’s accession to the European Union. The idea of opening to Israel the possibility of accession to the EU dates back to 1991. In the aftermath of the Gulf War, and on the eve of the Madrid talks, Italy made a proposal at the European Union level by which, once an agreement had been reached by the parties, the EU would have offered Israel the opportunity of taking part in the European integration process. The first step would have been to concede to Israel, as had previously been the case with Austria, Norway, Switzerland and Sweden, the status of country belonging to the so-called European common economic space. Mr De Michelis has thus described Italy’s view of Europe’s potential role in the peace process: In the past decades, in phases of conflict Israel has been able to count on the Americans for economic and military support. However, when it comes to the peace process, the United States are too distant, and guarantees for Israel can only come from Europe. And this would be the most important aspect of the prospected integration at the European level, on the one hand offering European citizens the possibility of holding a European passport and of moving freely within the continent; on the other, of drawing advantage from economic integration, and the opportunities offered by a market of such considerable dimensions as the European. To the Palestinians, on the other hand, Europe should offer economic support in the form of a Marshall Plan of sorts, and a Euro-Mediterranean, Euro-Arab co-operation leading to the creation of advantageous general conditions.14

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In August 2006, as already mentioned, the diplomatic action of Italy’s Prime Minister Romano Prodi was instrumental in convincing France to send a large military contingent to Lebanon to reinforce the existing UN interposition force UNIFIL. Italy also committed a large number of troops – up to 2500 – and offered to take over from France the command of the operation in 2007. This initiative is clearly in line with Italy’s ambition to play an important role in the region, and efforts to ensure that the Mediterranean remains a high priority on the agenda of the EU’s policy-making. To sum up, all these member states, for deeply different reasons, have encouraged the development of a common European Middle East policy: France in an effort to strengthen the EU’s (and its own) international role vis-à-vis the United States, Germany in order to develop its relations with the Arab states without harming its relations with Israel, Italy in the context of its continuous insistence on the importance of a Mediterranean dimension for the EU, the UK for historical reasons but also as a way of taking on the role of mediator between the EU and the US in order to ease transatlantic tensions. In addition to these specific national interests, unification is being strongly prompted by interests that are shared by all EU member states, namely the free flow of oil at a reasonable price to grant energy supplies to Europe; the political stability of the area to avoid an insecurity spillover and uncontrolled migration flows; regional prosperity to create a market for European products. The combination of these centripetal and centrifugal forces – compatible national interests and convergent shared interests vs. strong and diverging national interests – generates growing pressure for the development of an effective European common policy towards the Middle East that would allow the EU to take on an active role in the protection of its interests and an adequate say in the peace process, commensurate to its economic weight; on the other hand, though, it wields a restraining effect on the full development of this policy, pushing it towards the notorious target of a minimal common denominator, which has haunted EU foreign policy for over 35 years. 3.3 Endogenous variables: the trans-governmental network and the common institutions In over 35 years of European political co-operation, EU member states have developed an intensive transgovernmental network that has profoundly changed the framework within which European governments make foreign policy: it has become normal practice within EU foreign ministries to work with diplomats seconded from other states, even in planning staff and defence policy departments. Information and intelligence are widely shared and foreign ministers meet several times a month, formally and informally (Forster and Wallace 2001).

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Policy towards the Middle East is discussed at all levels of the EU foreign policy mechanism; furthermore, it is discussed both in the intergovernmental framework of Pillar II, and in the framework of Pillar I, not only because Pillar I instruments are used to implement decisions taken in Pillar II, but also because the Commission is responsible for the developing and running of long-term projects of economic assistance to the region (Monar 1998). The Middle East was actually one of the first policy areas (together with the CSCE) for which the boundaries between the EC and the EPC were broken down in the 1970s: the Euro-Arab Dialogue, for instance, had for the first time a special inter EPC-EEC working group, which reported to both the Committee of Permanent Representatives and the Political Committee of the EPC; this EPC procedural innovation was then institutionalized with the Amsterdam Treaty 20 years later. All this has not been without effect: in fact, it has led to a gradual harmonization of the political discourse and the progressive softening of national differences in approach. Immersed in a process of socialization, foreign ministries have slowly shifted their preferences to make them at least compatible with those of the other governments. Through constant interaction at innumerable levels member governments are part of a complex network of institutions and procedures that makes up EU decision-making. That interaction and the institutional network itself inevitably play a part in determining government strategies and in influencing the goals and objectives of governments both at the national as well as the European levels. Parallel to this informal process of socialization and to these incremental changes in working practices, a more formal process of institution building and a stratification of the instruments at the CFSP’s disposal have taken place. It is important here to underline the relevance of these institutions as both a vehicle and an obstacle to furthering political integration. On the one hand ‘all evidence points to the fact that institutions do matter, if only because they can create crucial incentives to moderating divergence and inconsistency and facilitating a common output’ (Dassù and Missiroli 2002); on the other hand, undeniable institutional complexity (or rather confusion) continues to handicap the EU as a global actor; the diffusion of authority within the Union and the permanent intergovernmental bargaining produces inertia, resistance to change, and artificial compartmentalization of policy. The most significant innovations affecting EU policy towards the Middle East are undoubtedly the introduction of two new figures: the Special Envoy and the High Representative for the CFSP. The appointment in 1996 of Miguel Angel Moratinos as the first EU Special Envoy (now ‘Special Representative’) for the Middle East Peace Process provided the EU for the first time with a single interlocutor for dealing with other regional actors in an attempt to reduce the difficulties and inconsistencies of the CFSP due

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to the rotating EU Presidency system. The potential of this innovation, however, has been marred by the very nature of the Special Representative’s mandate which, if formally quite broad, does not include the possibility of committing the member states to any step not previously agreed upon.15 His action must take place in a strictly intergovernmental framework: he is guided by, and reports to, the Presidency (and more recently to the High Representative), and his scope for autonomous initiative is very limited and tightly bound to the indications received from the Council. As a consequence, Moratinos (and his successor since 2003 Marc Otte) has encountered great difficulties in creating for himself a role beyond that of ‘facilitator’ of the peace talks, although he has taken part directly in many stages of the negotiations, earning the trust and respect of all the main actors involved. In 1999 the EU agreed to appoint Javier Solana High Representative for the CFSP, a role to be added alongside that of Secretary General of the Council. Since his appointment Solana and his Policy Planning Unit have been closely involved in the Middle East peace process, representing the EU’s position in the negotiations and contributing autonomous initiatives. But the familiar pattern has repeated itself, and Solana’s action has been hampered by the political limits of his mandate and trapped within the limits of intergovernmental consensus. A fitting example of the EU’s enhanced role as a result of the introduction of a High Representative is the inclusion of Solana in the already mentioned ‘Quartet’, formed by the US, the UN, Russia and the EU. However – perhaps not surprisingly – the cumbersome structures of EU diplomacy have managed to squeeze the Commissioner for External Relations and the Foreign Minister of the member state holding the Council Presidency into the ‘single’ EU seat. In other words, once again the member states have revealed their ‘schizophrenic’ attitude ( Jorgensen 2002),16 encouraging convergence through informal socialization processes and formal institution building on the one hand, while on the other trying their best to block convergence by limiting the powers attributed to the new institutions and the continuous reliance on mutual trust and consensus. 3.4 Endogenous variables: the EU’s strategic culture and political vision The paragraphs above have produced ample evidence of how difficult it is to generalize when dealing with EU foreign policy. Nonetheless – with due caution – it is indeed possible to identify certain basic principles on which the EU’s stance towards the Middle East is based and that are shared by almost all member states. First of all it must be stressed that, for Europe, Middle East policy overlaps with Mediterranean policy. The EU considers the Mediterranean as a coherent geo-strategic region and in this perspective it sees political

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instability in the Middle East as a potential danger to the political stability of the whole region. Indeed, ‘the European discourse alternatively emphasizes Europe’s common destiny with the peoples of the region and its responsibility for furthering peace, democracy and development among its neighbours, or European security and economic interests, which require both socio-economic development and political progress in the region including, prominently, the peaceful regulation of the Arab–Israeli conflict’ (Perthes 2000). There is a clear link between the Middle East peace process and the EU’s interest in building a safer Euro-Mediterranean regional environment. Focusing more closely on Europe’s approach to the peace process itself, it is possible to identify a number of fundamental principles on which the EU has based its policy since the signing of the Venice Declaration in 1980: • The EU has constantly insisted on the need for all the relevant issues to be taken on simultaneously, and has repeatedly supported the idea of international peace conferences where regional actors meet in a multilateral framework. This position is consistent with the EU’s political culture of multilateralism, and its emphasis on the primacy of negotiation and diplomacy over the use of force. • The EU appeals regularly to United Nations resolutions and underlines the importance of respecting international law. • The EU has always emphasized the ‘legitimate right of the Palestinians’ – well before the Palestinian question was recognized by the Israeli and the Americans as being central to the resolution of the Arab–Israeli dispute.17 • The EU is a strong supporter of the two states solution and of the principle that the PLO is the legitimate representative of the Palestinian people.

Conclusion: ‘The birds and the bats’ or ‘The phenomenon of the common European foreign policy’ The purpose of this chapter has been to illustrate and analyse the problematic interrelation between two opposing trends in the evolution of European Foreign Policy: the development of a stronger convergence of member state policies as a result of the influence exercised by a number of exogenous and endogenous variables, and the undiminished strength of specific national preferences and priorities that pose a challenge to the consolidation of this convergence. With this objective in mind the chapter focused on the case of European Middle East policy – and in particular of the policy towards the Arab–Israeli peace process, given its political relevance for the European Union and the long-standing involvement of the EU in the process. The case study has shown how EU Middle East policy could be said to generate a paradox of converging parallels. In other words, EU Middle East policy shows clear signs of convergence as a result of:

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a) Converging external pressures. b) The similarity of member states’ interests. c) The existence of a transgovernmental network and of common institutions, which contribute to the harmonization of the different policies. d) The development of a European perception, in broad terms, of the issue. On the other hand, however, the attainment of a real convergence, capable of producing a truly collective policy, has been consistently hampered by the persistence of differences in the individual member states’ preferences, which remain clearly distinct from, and only occasionally similar to, those of the other member states. Therefore, this being the situation, how can convergence in European foreign policy be described? A very suggestive idea comes to us from a search in the English Language Dictionary: the fifth meaning of the word ‘convergence’ is in fact given as follows: ‘Convergent evolution: the evolutionary development of a superficial resemblance between unrelated animals that occupy a similar environment, as in the evolution of wings in birds and bats’.18 This description fits EU policy towards the peace process very nicely indeed; in fact, it strikes as being appropriate for European foreign policy in general. EU member states have maintained, and struggle to maintain, tight control over their foreign policy in order to protect what they consider to be their national interests; nonetheless, they find ever more frequently that those interests can be better protected through a common European action that is able to project into the international arena the combined weight of the 27 members of the Union. As a consequence, more and more national governments, often prompted by totally different reasons and agendas, turn to the EU and encourage the elaboration of common European policies, creating precisely the effect of a convergence of policies that in most cases, however, will not intersect and will remain an ‘equal distance apart’.

Notes 1. An earlier version of this chapter was published as an article in the European Foreign Affairs Review (Musu 2003). 2. In a speech to the Italian Parliament in July 1960, Christian Democrat Aldo Moro spoke of what he called ‘parallel convergences’, referring to the parallel abstention of a left and a right party (i.e. the Socialist Party and the Monarchic Party), which had allowed the formation of a new centrist government in Italy under the leadership of Mr Fanfani. Italian Parliamentary Acts, Stenographical Reports, 20–26 July, 1960. 3. The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Fourth Edition. 4. Author’s interviews with Harry Kney-Tal (Israeli Envoy to the EC and to NATO) and Yehuda Millo (Israeli Ambassador to Italy and the Holy See) in 2001 and 2002 and with senior Israeli diplomats in 2005 and 2006.

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5. In a private communication with the author Andrew Moravcsik has argued that ‘we cannot entirely dismiss the “null hypothesis”, namely that – absent a tie as close as US–Israel – ultimately European countries just do not care that much, which is why they do little and can afford to indulge parochial national interests’. 6. Author’s interview with Harry Kney-Tal, Israeli Ambassador to the EC, May 2002. 7. Vedrine 1996. 8. In October 1996 France’s President Chirac visited Israel, the Palestinian Territories, Egypt, Jordan, Syria and Lebanon; during one of his speeches he suggested that the European Union should stand alongside the United States and Russia as co-sponsor of the peace process, and that the increased involvement of France and the EU would help restore confidence in the process. His trip was as much welcomed by the Arabs as it was received coldly by both Israel and the United States. 9. See Alasdair Sandford, ‘France uneasy about mandate’, BBC News, Paris, 16 August, 2006, available at http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/1/hi/world/middle_ east/4800185.stm 10. Author’s interview with Lord Weidenfeld of Chelsea, member of the House of Lords and Vice-Chairman of the Europe–Israel Group (September 2003). 11. See, for example, Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer’s shuttle diplomacy between Israel and Arafat after the June 2001 suicide bombing of a Tel Aviv nightclub and his 2002 seven point ‘idea paper’ for peace in the Middle East; more recently, see the intermediary role played by Germany in 2004 when Israel exchanged over 400 prisoners for an Israeli businessman and the remains of three Israeli soldiers held by Hezbollah (the exchange took place on German soil). 12. Author’s interview with Sir Malcolm Rifkind, former British Secretary of State for Defence and Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs (September 2003). 13. Author’s interview with Gianni De Michelis (2003). 14. Author’s interview with Gianni De Michelis (2003). 15. The annual mandate, successively prolonged by the Council of Ministers until today, gives wide-ranging responsibilities, which include among others: • • • •

To establish and maintain close contact with all the parties to the peace process, and all other key regional and international countries and organizations. To observe negotiations and to be ready to offer the EU’s advice and good offices should the parties request this. To contribute, where requested, to the implementation of agreements reached between the parties, and to engage with them diplomatically in the event of non-compliance with the terms of these agreements. To engage constructively with signatories to agreements within the framework of the peace process in order to promote compliance with the basic norms of democracy, including respect of human rights and the rule of law.

16. The former President of the European Commission, Jacques Delors, referring to the institutional set-up of the CFSP, has used the expression ‘organized schizophrenia’. Quoted in Jorgensen (2002). 17. Joint Declaration of the Nine Foreign Ministers on the Situation in the Middle East, Brussels, 6 November, 1973. 18. Collins English Dictionary, Glasgow: Harper Collins Publishers, 2000 (emphasis added).

9 Congruence without Strategy: Explaining EU Policies towards the Cyprus Conflict Nathalie Tocci

Introduction Between 1993 and 2004 the European Commission and the governments of EU member states raised the expectation that Cyprus’s EU accession would catalyse a settlement of the island’s conflict. Yet, as the accession process progressed during the 1990s, the divisions between the principal parties widened. The prospect of a consolidated partition on the southeastern borders of an enlarged EU became increasingly likely by the turn of the century. Indeed, with the rejection of the UN-sponsored ‘Annan Plan’ by the Greek Cypriot community in April 2004, the divided island joined the EU in May 2004. The Turkish Cypriots, who instead had accepted the Plan, were left on the other side of the divide. Since then the Greek Cypriot Republic of Cyprus has been using its newfound leverage within the EU, unchallenged by its fellow member states, to reverse to its advantage the compromise parameters of a solution established by the UN since 1974. The conflict in Cyprus emerged in the 1930s when the Greek Cypriot community supported by Greece articulated its struggle for selfdetermination in terms of enosis, or union between Greece and Cyprus. Fearing Greek domination and spurred by the British, the Turkish Cypriot community and Turkey mounted a reactive counter-enosis campaign. By the late 1950s this counter-mobilization crystallised in the diametrically opposed position of taksim, or partition. In 1960, through heavy-handed pressure from Greece, Turkey and the UK, a compromise was found. Cyprus would become an independent bi-communal Republic. Yet the Greek Cypriot leadership remained implicitly devoted to enosis and by 1963 the bi-communal Republic had collapsed. With its breakdown both community leaderships lost their limited commitment to the 1960 arrangements. Little international effort was exerted to prevent the 1974 Greek coup in Cyprus and the ensuing 128

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Turkish military intervention and occupation of the island. The decades that followed the 1974 partition witnessed a series of failed negotiations and rejected proposals, mainly mediated by the UN. Neither the Greek nor the Turkish Cypriot leaders were ready to abandon the status quo for the establishment of a genuine bi-zonal and bi-communal federal Republic. Both parties articulated their claims through the mutually exclusive language of absolute statehood and sovereignty. Within this context, EU actors argued that Cyprus’s accession process could have triggered a breakthrough. But why, contrary to official expectations, did the accession process fail to catalyse the reunification of Cyprus? EU actors did not expect to induce a settlement by replacing the UN as the official mediator in Cyprus. In the case of Cyprus the role of the Union was not strictly speaking within the confines of CFSP. It was rather a ‘first-pillar’ involvement within the context of accession. EU actors expected the accession process to complement the UN’s mediation efforts by altering the incentive structure underpinning the conflict. Incentives would alter as a result of EU-related ‘carrots’ and ‘sticks’ that would be conditional on progress in the peace process. The incentive on offer was that of membership itself, that is, the most appetizing carrot at the EU’s disposal. Moreover, the prospect of membership was ostensibly valued highly by all the conflict parties. However, this approach required a clear and consistent EU-strategy based on a convergent assessment of the conflict and its structure. Its successful implementation also depended on close co-operation between the UN and the EU. Scratching beneath the surface the expectation of a ‘catalytic effect’ was ridden with fundamental flaws (Tocci 2004). First, member governments neglected the fact that the Turkish and Turkish Cypriot sides viewed the Union as structurally biased against them, and were sceptical of Cyprus’s EU accession process initiated and conducted exclusively by the Greek Cypriot side. Second, EU actors overlooked the reasons motivating the Greek Cypriot drive for membership, reasons that were inherently linked to the aim of strengthening their position in negotiations. Finally, and most critically, member governments misjudged the complex make-up of the principal parties, each of which included different players aiming to achieve radically different outcomes. As such the incentives for some players perversely acted as disincentives to others. On several occasions, and most dramatically at the culminating moment of the UN’s peace efforts in 2004, the accession process strengthened the hand of those wishing to stall a solution. But what explains these flaws? Were EU policies the product of a consistent European strategy, which nonetheless led to unintended effects? Or was the failure the result of empty EU rhetoric compounded by the very absence of a strategy? In other words, were EU policies the result of ‘congruence’ without ‘convergence’ in the positions of EU actors? And if so, what precisely did ‘congruence’ mean in the case of Cyprus?

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1. The changing role of Greece While Greece was by no means the only driving force in EU policies, its role was crucial in determining EU policies towards Turkey and Cyprus. Greece was the only member state with a clear view on the conflict, and on the role of the EU in contributing to a solution. With the rise to power of the socialist PASOK (the Panhellenic Socialist Movement), under the leadership of Andreas Papandreou in 1981, Greece began pursuing an internationalization strategy as a means to restore the status quo pertaining before 1974. Within the EC, internationalization took the form of pressing the Community for its condemnation of Turkey and of vetoing financial aid to Turkey. Over the course of the 1980s, as PASOK became increasingly aware of the economic and political benefits of EU membership, it began actively encouraging the accession of Cyprus to the Community. More specifically, during Greece’s second EC Presidency in 1988, Yannis Kranidiotis, the Cyprus-born deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, attempted to persuade Greek Cypriot President George Vassiliou to apply for membership. Accession was viewed as the most effective means of internationalizing the problem, and thus seeking a more active European involvement in peace efforts. EC membership would also strengthen the Greek Cypriot bargaining position given Turkey’s aspirations to join the Community. Short of a settlement, membership would safeguard Greek Cypriot security by raising the costs of Turkish expansionism. Following the Macedonian debacle in the early 1990s Athens began pushing vigorously the Cyprus dossier in Brussels. Yet, unlike its early years of membership, the Greek government no longer simply blocked EU–Turkey relations. It rather made its consent conditional on EU steps to further Cyprus’s membership. The most notable examples of this were in 1995 and in 1999. In 1995, after years of stagnation, most member states felt the need to upgrade EU–Turkey relations. The approval of the final stage of the EU–Turkey customs union was the obvious candidate for deepened integration. So in March 1995, at a General Affairs Council meeting, the Greek government consented to the customs union and the release of the previously blocked financial aid to Turkey. However, its consent was linked to the Council’s commitment to begin accession negotiations with Cyprus six months after the completion of the 1996 Intergovernmental Conference. A similar story can be told of the 1999 Helsinki European Council. EU–Turkey relations were under severe strain in the aftermath of the December 1997 Luxembourg European Council, which accepted the launch of accession negotiations with Cyprus but refused to extend candidacy to Turkey. Most member states were keen to re-establish ties with Ankara. Particularly in view of Greece’s efforts to enter the eurozone, the Greek government could not afford to stand out against the rest. By December 1999 the Simitis government was willing to accept Turkey’s candidacy. Nevertheless it strived to

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obtain concessions in return. The most important was the removal of EU conditionality on the Greek Cypriot government regarding a settlement of the conflict. Another way in which Greek negotiators used their leverage to pursue Cyprus’s accession was to link the Greek ratification of EU enlargement to progress in Cyprus’s EU accession. This form of leverage was first exerted at the 1994 Corfu European Council, when the Greek government persuaded the member states to include Cyprus in the fifth enlargement by threatening not to ratify the accession of the Scandinavian countries and Austria. It was used again in 1997–98, this time linking Greek consent to the eastern enlargement to Cyprus’s inclusion in it. The threat to veto the fifth enlargement generated strong incentives among other EU actors to set aside their reservations about negotiations with a divided Cyprus. The replacement of the Andreas Papandreou with Costas Simitis in 1996 marked another key shift in the Greek government’s positions on Turkey and Cyprus. In 1999, and particularly after the replacement of Theodoros Pangalos with George Papandreou as Foreign Minister, the government’s attitudes towards Turkey and EU–Turkey relations transformed. The Simitis government shifted from advocating ‘conditional sticks’ to pressing for ‘conditional carrots’. The most striking example of this turnaround was in the run-up to the December 2002 Copenhagen European Council. Both the Commission and the majority of EU member states were largely sceptical of Turkish demands for a ‘date’ to begin accession negotiations. By September 2002 Simitis and Papandreou stood out as the sole vocal supporters of the Turkish request. In the autumn of 2002 Greek diplomacy had turned 180 degrees from the early days of Greek membership, as it appeared to have become one of Turkey’s principal spokespersons in the Union. Greece’s turnaround was also linked to the emerging Greek–Turkish rapprochement. From the summer–autumn of 1999, Greek Foreign Minister Papandreou spearheaded a rapprochement with Turkey that, while cautious, was comparable with that between Mustafa Kemal Atatürk and Eleftherios Venizelos in the 1920s. The policy of rapprochement has persisted despite the government change in Athens with the election of Costas Karamanlis’s New Democracy in March 2004. Indeed Greek–Turkish relations were not a matter of dispute during the 2003–4 election campaign, in view of the general agreement between the two main contenders. However, the New Democracy government has approached the rapprochement with Turkey with far greater caution than its predecessor. The Greek–Turkish rapprochement and Greece’s policy shift on EU–Turkey relations are intricately linked. The rapprochement facilitated Greece’s shift on EU–Turkey relations. By the autumn of 2002 the developing relationship with Turkey allowed the Greek government to act as the main supporter of Turkey’s EU bid. In turn, Greece’s policy shift on EU–Turkey relations, while initially met by Turkish scepticism, gradually became a major confidence building measure between the two countries.

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2. The other member states: the policy vacuum Turkey and the Turkish Cypriots externally viewed EU policies towards the Eastern Mediterranean as being driven by member state Greece. Indeed the (changing) role of Greece was pivotal in the EU policy-making process regarding Cyprus and Turkey, particularly before Cyprus’s EU accession. Since then Greece has been happy to play second fiddle to the Republic of Cyprus in its policies towards Turkey and conflict within the EU. But how could Greece, as a small member state, play such a key role in both driving EU decisions on Cyprus and providing the dominant reading of the conflict and its resolution? Greece’s role was determined by the interaction between the Greek government’s positions and those of the other member governments. EU policies affecting the conflict were driven by Greece because of the general neglect of the conflict by the other member states. Neglect of the conflict and ambivalence towards Turkey created a policy vacuum, which enabled Greece to play a pivotal role in the EU’s approach towards the conflict. In other words, congruence, rather than convergence, emerged as the result of the relative neglect of other EU actors. 2.1 Member states’ positions towards the conflict and Cyprus’s EU accession Only one other member state had relatively strong interests in the Cyprus conflict. The UK, as a former colonial power with two sovereign military bases on the island, as a guarantor power and as a permanent member of the UN Security Council, paid marginal albeit consistent attention to the conflict. However, the UK, contrary to Greece, believed that the EU should keep out of conflict resolution efforts. The UK’s strong preference for the UN rather than the EU in mediation did not entail its rejection of Cyprus’s EU accession. On the contrary, since the mid-1990s London actively supported Cyprus’s membership. While stating its preference for a settlement before membership, the UK never voiced serious objections to the ongoing accession process. Officially its support for Cyprus’s membership was due to its belief that the accession process would create new incentives for a solution. However, the UK supported accession also in view of the Greek Cypriot government’s acceptance that this would not jeopardize the status of the British bases. Indeed, while in 2004 Cyprus acceded to the Union, the two military bases remained extra-EU territory. With the exception of the UK, the other member states did not have strong interests in the conflict. They were generally supportive of the UN’s efforts to reach a settlement, which would increase stability in the Eastern Mediterranean and encourage peace between strategic ally Turkey and member state Greece. Some member states were marginally more concerned with the conflict than others. France, as a permanent UN Security Council member, and Germany, in view of its strong ties to Turkey, paid occasional attention

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to the conflict. However, like the UK, when France or Germany turned to the conflict, they did so outside the confines of the EU. With the exception of Greece, no member state was keen to see an active EU involvement in the conflict. Throughout the accession process, the member states persisted in paying sporadic attention to Cyprus. None had a consistent strategy to settle the conflict through accession. Furthermore, the UN’s involvement justified the EU’s non-involvement. The member states claimed that there was a ‘division of labour’ between the EU and the UN. While the former dealt with accession, the latter attempted to mediate a settlement.1 Until the late 1990s there was minimal contact between Commission officials and UN mediators. The unspoken assumption behind this approach was that accession and conflict settlement were separate and independent issues. Similar dynamics persisted after Cyprus’s EU accession. Indeed post accession, an additional justification has motivated the EU’s hands-off approach towards the conflict. The fact that the conflict represents the ‘internal affair’ of an EU member state has led to EU-wide support for the Republic of Cyprus (RoC) without unheeded interference in the evolution of the conflict. This has meant that without a convergent set of positions, over time, the member states accepted Greek/Greek Cypriot preferences concerning EU– Cyprus relations. In particular, they accepted the lifting of conditionality on Greek Cyprus. Congruence, or the compatibility of member states’ positions, emerged over time but without a genuine process of convergence. A set of decisions was taken over time, which entailed the progressive lifting of conditionality on the Greek Cypriot side. The 1993 Commission Opinion on Cyprus reflected the initial divisions within the Union. The Commission and the member states (excluding Greece) were reluctant to enter into the dynamics of the intractable conflict by giving a green light to the accession process. Arguments in favour of non-involvement were particularly compelling given that at the time the UN was engaged in an unprecedented effort to unblock the impasse. However, Greece lobbied heavily in favour of Cyprus, and the Republic was indeed an eligible candidate for membership. The resulting Opinion reflected these contrasting forces. The largely uninterested member states gave in to Greek pressures, but ensured that the Opinion included a fairly explicit form of conditionality on the Greek Cypriot Republic. Accession negotiations were expected to begin only following a settlement of the conflict. The next key step was taken at the Corfu European Council in 1994, in which the member states unanimously agreed to include Cyprus in the fifth enlargement, without mentioning any specific conditions. In Corfu the member governments made their bids: Germany and Belgium supported Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia and Hungary; the UK and Denmark supported the Baltic states; France supported Romania; Italy supported Malta and Slovenia. And Greece slipped Cyprus into the bargain (Ioakimidis 1997). In Corfu, there was not a coherent enlargement strategy or a full awareness of

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the strategic implications of EU actions. There was rather a problem-solving atmosphere in which the member states cast their bids and negotiated an overall package. Enlargement was still a long way away and the member states paid insufficient attention to the specificity of Cyprus to raise serious objections to the Corfu decision. Raising objections would have imperilled the entire bargain. Then came the March 1995 Council decision to extend the customs union with Turkey while deciding to open accession negotiations with the RoC (Brewin 2000). The French Presidency pushed for the compromise principally as a means to enhance EU–Turkey ties, in dire need of a boost. Cyprus was the ‘price’ to pay for Greek consent. Again, references to conditionality regarding the conflict were conspicuously absent in the decision. Cyprus resurfaced on the EU agenda in 1998 at the instigation of the French and under the British Presidency. Britain and France were concerned about the possibility of Cyprus’s accession without a settlement. In the autumn of 1998, a few weeks before the launch of negotiations, France warned that Cyprus’s accession was not automatic and questioned the legitimacy of negotiations without the Turkish Cypriots. The French government then tabled a declaration under the CFSP chapter of negotiations together with the Germans, the Dutch and the Italians, stating that a settlement must be urgently found, not least because ‘the process of negotiations will give rise to serious problems for the functioning and coherence of the CFSP’ (Council of Ministers 1998). Implicit in the declaration was the concern that negotiations would severely strain EU–Turkey relations. But EU–Turkey concerns were set aside when the Greek government deftly linked its consent to the entire enlargement with Cyprus’s membership. As soon as enlargement as a whole came into play, the Greeks created strong German incentives to settle the deadlock. Indeed in October 1998, the German government unblocked the impasse, insisting that ‘under no circumstances is there an issue of blocking enlargement’ (Kathimerini 1998b). Over the next two years, as accession negotiations proceeded, the remaining reservations were swept aside. Indeed at the December 1999 Helsinki Council when, at the eleventh hour, the Dutch Premier Will Kock objected to the explicit lifting of conditionality on Cyprus included in the Presidency conclusions, it was French President Jacques Chirac who stood firm in opposition to the Dutch, arguing that the entire package involving also Turkey’s candidacy would be at stake otherwise. Since December 1999 one last factor that encouraged congruence of member state positions around Greece’s initial strategy was the decision that member states would ratify enlargement as a single Treaty of Accession for the ten new members. The decision was not taken for Greece–Cyprus reasons. It was taken to have the greatest possible assurance that ratification of the historic eastern enlargement would proceed smoothly. The idea of resisting the accession of Cyprus thus became highly unlikely. Member

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state reservations on Cyprus were certainly not strong enough to forsake the entire fifth enlargement. 2.2 Member states’ positions towards Turkey and EU–Turkey relations Compared with Cyprus, member state positions towards Turkey are far more complex. European countries have several inter-linked interests in good relations with Turkey. Turkey’s geostrategic position, its key role in NATO, its strong relationship with the US and its large and growing market call for strong ties with Ankara. The presence of large Turkish immigrant communities in Germany, Holland and Belgium reinforces the imperative not to alienate Turkey. Finally, particularly in the aftermath of the 11 September, 2001 attacks in New York and Washington, the argument that Turkey’s EU inclusion would refute the alleged thesis of a ‘clash of civilizations’ between the ‘West’ and ‘Islam’ also gained increasing salience. This does not mean that the member states have had a concerted strategy towards Turkey. Up until 1999 they did not address the issue of Turkey’s full EU membership. To date there is not a consensus yet within the Union concerning the desirability of Turkey’s membership. The official reasons for EU scepticism are the serious flaws in Turkey’s democracy and economy. The Commission’s successive Progress Reports since 1998 indicated Turkey’s diminishing yet still fundamental shortcomings. Yet other unspoken factors also explain the reluctance of EU governments to accept the idea of Turkey’s EU membership. Turkey’s demographic growth would entail that it would represent the largest member state, with evident implications on voting rights and representation in EU institutions. The country’s size and location would entail the largest member state falling beyond the geographical borders of the European continent and would result in a Union neighbouring the volatile Middle East and Caucasus. Turkey’s low level of economic development would entail significant redistribution of EU funds towards Anatolia and away from the current recipients. It would mean also that while economic disparities persisted, Turkey’s EU membership could induce accelerated Turkish immigration to wealthier member states. Least noble of all, and to varying degrees underlying all of the above-mentioned concerns, is the reluctance to integrate a country with an allegedly ‘different’ culture and religion. This does not mean that the member states decided against Turkey’s membership and merely used the Copenhagen criteria as a pretext to fend Turkey away. The debate within EU-15 on Turkey has existed for years behind closed doors. However, since the late 1990s, as Turkey slowly progressed along the path of reform and Greece no longer acted as the alibi for the hidden scepticism of other member states, the debate on Turkey was forced into the open. But regardless of the relative strength of the different views in this debate, the fact that an unresolved debate exists explains the absence of

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a clear and consistent medium/long-term EU strategy towards Turkey. The absence of a strategy has meant that little thought was devoted to how EU policies towards Turkey could raise Turkish and Turkish Cypriot incentives to reach an agreement. This implied that EU–Turkey relations since the late 1980s developed in ebbs and flows. In 1989 Turkey’s application for membership was rejected by the Community. By 1994, with the lack of progress in EU–Turkey relations, Turkey’s reaction to Cyprus’s accession process, and its drift towards political Islam, the majority of member states felt that a positive step towards Turkey was imperative. Germany, France, the UK, Italy, Spain and Holland felt that a customs union, foreseen in the 1963 Association Agreement, was the natural candidate for such a step. The customs union would embed Turkey within the European sphere, lessening its tendencies to drift to the ‘East’. At the same time, it would not entail full membership and it would not cover agricultural goods or the free movement of persons. Turkey was not satisfied with the customs union and persisted in seeking full membership. It received a cold shower in Luxembourg in 1997 when the European Council refused to include Turkey in the enlargement process. The concept in Luxembourg was that Turkey should be kept within the orbit of enlargement in principle, but in practice the member states should seek closer ties through alternative means. This concept was met with complete Turkish resistance. In view of the change in Greece’s position, the member states accepted Turkey’s candidacy at the 1999 Helsinki European Council. However, this did not include a shared willingness of the member states to develop a consistent strategy towards Turkey, and to recognize the long-term implications of their decisions. The acrimonious debates that took place prior to the December 2002 European Council in Copenhagen and the December 2004 European Council in Brussels illustrate this point. On both occasions there was no consensus between the member states on the decision to be taken on Turkey. In 2002 the absence of a unified EU position was due to the schism between the Franco-German axis supported by Austria and the Scandinavian countries on the one hand, and Greece, Italy, Spain and the UK on the other. The former group of countries resisted a clear conditional signal to Turkey concerning the launch of accession negotiations, and preferred a rendezvous clause to decide the next steps in Turkey’s EU accession path. The latter group was more supportive of Turkish demands. Greece supported Turkey in the light of its policy of rapprochement, while Italy, Spain and the UK focused on the importance of EU–Turkey relations in the context of transatlantic relations and the looming war in Iraq. After much debate the member states converged on a variation of the Franco-German stance. Once again the final decision indicated a process of drift and postponement of key decisions highlighting the absence of a consistent strategy towards Turkey.

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In 2004 the internal balances within EU-25 had shifted. Berlin had turned to support the launch of Turkey’s accession negotiations, not least because of the rising appreciation by the Social Democrat government of the electoral importance of the Turkish community’s vote. The Scandinavian countries also appeared far more positive towards Turkey’s membership bid on the grounds of its visible progress in political reform. Britain, Spain, Italy and Greece also firmly backed Turkey’s bid, as well as the majority of the new member states. Leading the sceptics’ camp was France and Austria, backed by Denmark and the Dutch Presidency. The sceptical member states ultimately accepted that accession negotiations with Turkey would begin in October 2005. However, they succeeded in inserting relatively strong language in the Presidency’s conclusions regarding the uncertain, long-term and conditional nature of Turkey’s negotiations. Finally, in view of the positions of the Greek Cypriot government (by then in the EU), the 2004 European Council’s conclusions also specified that Turkey would need to amend its Customs Union Protocol to include the ten new member states, including the Republic of Cyprus, by October 2005. An agreement was finally reached in December 2004 and accepted by Turkey. Yet only a few months later, in view of the crisis generated by the French and Dutch rejection of the Constitutional Treaty, uncertainty concerning Turkey’s EU prospects mounted again. This reached new heights in the autumn of 2006 following the Commission’s proposal to suspend negotiations with Turkey on eight chapters of the acquis. In so far as the 2006 EU–Turkey dispute focused on the extension of the EU–Turkey customs union to the RoC rather than to issues strictly related to Turkey’s accession process, it has seriously damaged trust between the parties. On the one hand, Turkey-sceptic member states such as France and Austria have suspiciously discovered their strong sympathies towards the Greek Cypriot cause, rallying behind the RoC in calling for the imposition of strong negative conditionality on Turkey. On the other hand, Turkey has read the ongoing realignments within the EU as a shift from using Greece to using Greek Cyprus as a shield to hide age-old discriminatory attitudes towards Turkey.

3. EU institutions and decision-making If congruence rather than convergence characterized the trends among member states, what role did EU institutions, and in particular the European Commission and Council play? What effect did the structures and modes of operation of EU institutions have on the EU’s default policies towards the conflict? Given the national positions analysed above, how did their articulation within EU institutions affect EU decisions towards Cyprus and Turkey? In assessing the impact of institutions it is crucial to bear in mind that very few officials dealt with the conflict. This was linked to the main argument

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made above, that is, that relative neglect characterized the attitudes of most member states. Sparse resources, together with the fact that EU institutions act in a remarkably autonomous and uncoordinated way, led to key decisions being taken without an overall strategy towards the conflict. 3.1 The Council of Ministers, the European Council and the Presidency Cyprus was rarely the focus of high-level discussions within the Council of Ministers or the European Council. Since 1974 the conflict was seldom discussed beyond working group level in the Council, apart from when EPC statements supported UN resolutions and plans. Even following the launch of the accession process in 1990 the conflict was not upgraded on the General Affairs Council’s political agenda, less still in European Council discussions. Since the establishment of the High Representative’s post, no one in Javier Solana’s policy planning unit has dealt with Cyprus or the Eastern Mediterranean. The Council simply left the matter to the Commission, without giving it either a mandate or the resources to act outside the confines of the first pillar and propose an EU political stance on the conflict. The six-monthly Presidency made matters worse. With the exception of Greece, all Presidencies neglected Cyprus. The conflict was far too intractable and entrenched for any Presidency to expect a quick success over the course of six months. Furthermore, the conflict did not present an immediate threat or crisis calling for rapid EU action. Despite the desirability of unification before accession, the member states did not consider the stalemate on the island as an immediate threat to peace and stability in the region. Notwithstanding good intentions at the start of each six months, time and time again the Cyprus ‘hot potato’ was passed on from one Presidency to the next. The opposite was true for Greece. Like many member states and small member states in particular, Greek governments viewed its Presidencies as opportunities to upgrade Greek national interests on the EU agenda (Tsakaloyannis 1996). Cyprus was on the top of the Greek agenda in all its Presidencies. The role of the Greek Presidency was crucial both in January– June 1988, when political dialogue with Cyprus was launched, and at the 1994 Corfu Council, when the European Council decided to include Cyprus in the fifth enlargement. 3.2 The Commission Between 1993 and 2004 the Commission dealt with Cyprus’s accession. However, while the Commission was empowered to deal with enlargement, it was not given a mandate to actively promote a settlement. Following Cyprus’s accession, a small unit in the Commission dealing with northern Cyprus was established. But again its mandate was not strictly related to the peace process. It was rather linked to the implementation of the promises made by the European Council on the eve of the fifth enlargement

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to lift the isolation of the Turkish Cypriots in view of the 2004 referendum results. What effect did the exclusion of the ‘Cyprus conflict’ from the mandate of the Commission have on its positions? The absence of an explicit mandate to deal with the conflict meant that the Commission was not called to substantiate how the accession process was intended to catalyse a settlement. When it referred to the ‘catalyst’ effect, DG Enlargement overplayed the importance of economic incentives to the isolated Turkish Cypriots. It did so primarily because the Commission has an ideological bias towards economic carrots, in view of the fact that these are the primary instruments at its disposal. Aid, technical assistance, trade agreements and accession negotiations are the Commission’s natural domain, which did have significant impact on reforms in the CEECs. But economic incentives have rarely if ever solved (alone) ethno-political conflicts, especially ones like Cyprus, centred on an entrenched identity-security discourse (Diez 2002). The absence of a mandate to deal with the conflict also entailed a relative lack of knowledge of it. The Commission’s exclusive focus on the accession of a small and relatively unproblematic candidate (once the conflict is sidelined) implied that relatively few officials dealt with Cyprus in the Commission. Since accession negotiations were launched the Cyprus unit included eight to ten people, most of whom also worked on ‘horizontal issues’ covering other candidate countries. While Commission officials dealing with Cyprus informed themselves as best they could about the conflict and its history, their official dossiers kept them away from the issue.2 The Commission also lacked a professional diplomatic service and so its delegations in Nicosia, Athens and Ankara operated without specific training on the complexities of the conflict. Relative lack of knowledge about the conflict in turn made officials unaware that many of their statements played into Turkish Cypriot stereotypes and fears of the Union. For example, in the 1998 Progress Report on Cyprus, when referring to the institutions of the Republic of Cyprus, the Commission stated that ‘the fundamentals of these provisions still apply but without the power-sharing element’ (Commission 1998b:8). To Turkish Cypriots, the power-sharing element was the core of the 1960s arrangements and the absence of that ‘element’ is precisely what makes the current RoC illegitimate and illegal. If a reunified Cyprus were to accede to the Union without Turkey, would the Commission brush aside in the same way a hypothetical new constitutional breakdown? As the accession process proceeded the knowledge gap narrowed, but another factor emerged further complicating the Commission’s role. With the opening of negotiations in 1998 Commission officials increasingly accepted the Greek Cypriot discourse. With an exclusive mandate to deal with the accession process the Commission had minimal contact with Turkish Cypriot officials. Instead contact with Greek Cypriots intensified,

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leading to the Commission’s increasing acceptance of the Greek Cypriot narrative of the conflict. The more the Commission heard the Greek Cypriot line, the more it became intertwined with its own thinking. These attitudes emerged visibly in the Commission’s Progress Reports on Cyprus. The reports rightly criticized the status quo in northern Cyprus. Yet they hardly mentioned evidence of Greek Cypriot intransigence. As the Commission accepted the view that the blame fell squarely on the Turkish Cypriots, it espoused the view that a settlement should not be a precondition of Cyprus’s accession. On the contrary, pressure on Ankara and the Turkish Cypriot leader Rauf Denkta¸s was imperative. It is in this context that when the Annan Plan was ultimately rejected by Greek Cypriot President Tassos Papadoloulos, Enlargement Commissioner Guenter Verheugen indignantly declared that he felt ‘cheated’ by the Greek Cypriots. The Commission thus proceeded with the accession process of the candidate countries. By doing so it became increasingly adamant about not seeing the historic fifth enlargement stall due to the Cyprus impasse. Particularly in the last years of negotiations Commission officials repeatedly warned Turkish and Turkish Cypriot officials that 110 million people in eastern Europe would not await a settlement in Cyprus. In addition, as the negotiations unfolded without attention paid to the conflict, the accession process became increasingly irreversible. The more irreversible the process became, the less tenable were the weak objections of several member states to the accession of the divided island. Following the launch of negotiations in 1998 the Commission’s inertial progress in the conduct of negotiations carved an increasingly entrenched path, to which the member states became gradually bound.

4. External factors So far this chapter has focused on the internal factors affecting EU policies towards the conflict. However, it is equally important to assess how external developments interacted with internal EU elements, determining EU policies towards the region. 4.1 Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot diplomacy and the views of the UN In the early and mid-1990s the Commission and the member states were highly sceptical of the prospect of Cyprus’s EU membership. Many felt that the presence of ‘two Greeces’ in the Union would complicate the delicate EU–Turkey balance. However, as time elapsed, noting the Greek Cypriot preparation for membership and its ostensible goodwill in peace efforts, the Commission and the member states felt increasingly uncomfortable in excluding Cyprus from the fifth enlargement.

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Under the Vassiliou and Clerides presidencies the Greek Cypriot south made rapid and remarkable progress in its preparation for membership. Once accession negotiations began Cyprus was consistently among the best performing candidates. In December 2002 it was the first candidate to formally close all negotiation chapters and in so doing Greek Cypriot performance won the support and sympathy of many EU policy-makers. Particularly between 1999 and 2003 the Greek Cypriot government also succeeded in presenting itself as the compromising party in the conflict. In November 2000 proximity talks had not ended out of Greek Cypriot will, but were due to the walk-out of the Turkish Cypriot side. In the year that elapsed before direct talks were launched Greek Cypriot diplomacy successfully portrayed its side as the party seeking a solution. When in December 2001 Denkta¸s invited Glafcos Clerides for direct talks, the latter readily accepted the invitation and throughout 2002 the Greek Cypriot team never hinted at abandoning the process. With the failure of the talks in 2003 the UN Secretary General praised the Greek Cypriot team for its constructive positions (UNSG 2003, paragraphs 35 and 136). Indeed the Greek Cypriot leadership’s negative stance in April 2004 towards the Annan Plan came as an unpleasant shock to many within the EU. On the other hand, particularly since the mid-1990s, Turkish Cypriots were labelled as the ‘intransigent’ party by the UN Secretary General. For example, in 2003, with the failure of the direct talks, Kofi Annan’s condemnation of the Turkish Cypriot leadership was unequivocal: ‘(i)n the case of the failure of this latest effort, I believe that Mr Denkta¸s, the Turkish Cypriot leader, bears prime responsibility’ (UNSG 2003, paragraph 129). As a result the consensus within the Union on the apportionment of blame for the status quo drifted closer to the positions of the Greek Cypriots. This simplified the Greek/Greek Cypriot task of garnering support for their views on conditionality. EU actors were gradually persuaded that conditionality on the Greek Cypriot Republic could hamper the search for a settlement, in so far as it would give Turkey the power to prevent both a settlement and Cyprus’s EU membership. Following the Greek Cypriot line it was considered unjust to make the Greek Cypriots ‘hostage’ to Turkish intransigence. It is in this context that one has to interpret the EU’s manifest shock at the 2004 referendum results in Cyprus, where the would-be intransigent Turkish Cypriots accepted the UN plan that was overwhelmingly rejected by the Greek Cypriot public, strongly incited by its leadership. 4.2 The limits of US pressure A final external factor affecting EU attitudes towards Turkey and Cyprus was the role of the United States. The principal preoccupation of the US was that of anchoring Turkey to Europe. American administrations pressed EU member states to engage Turkey in the integration process and raised Turkey’s expectations concerning EU accession. Yet while the US encouraged the member states to be more forthcoming towards Turkey, it could

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not press the Union to accept Turkey as a member state. In pursuing its aims US administrations frequently displayed insufficient understanding of the importance of fulfilling the Copenhagen criteria as a prerequisite of membership. It was one thing to push the member states to accept a customs union with Turkey, and quite another for the US to persuade the Europeans to accept Turkey as a member. The US played a key role in affecting EU–Turkey relations in 1995, 1997, 1999 and 2002. In 1995 the Clinton administration successfully pressed EU member states to extend the customs union to Turkey. In 1997 it failed to persuade the member states to upgrade Turkey’s status to that of EU candidate, and contributed to Turkey’s over-reaction to the Luxembourg European Council’s decision by having raised hopes in Ankara prior to the Council. Thereafter American officials pressed EU member governments to reverse their stance. The pressure mounted in 1998 when, relying on their closest European ally, the Americans pressed the British Presidency to enhance EU–Turkey ties at the June 1998 Cardiff European Council. Because of Greek resistance the Cardiff Council failed to mark a categorical turn in EU–Turkey relations. Greece remained firmly opposed, despite heavy American pressure (Kathimerini 1998a). However, by the autumn of 1999, US pressure was critical in securing the decision to extend candidacy to Turkey. While pressure contributed to the 1999 decision to extend candidacy to Turkey, excessive pressure at times proved detrimental to Turkey–EU relations. The starkest example was in the run-up to the December 2002 Copenhagen Council, when the US was particularly keen to further Turkey’s cause also because of its own war plans in Iraq. As widely reported in the press on 13–14 December 2002, excessive American pressure and aggressive Turkish tactics proved counter-productive to Ankara’s cause (Psyllides 2002; Dempsey 2002). Throughout the 1990s American involvement in the Cyprus conflict was sporadic and largely a function of its interests in Turkey as well as in the stability of the island, not least because of the importance of the British bases there. The US supported Cyprus’s EU accession, while at the same time emphasizing the link between progress in EU–Turkey relations and a settlement in Cyprus. These US attitudes were reinforced during George W. Bush’s Presidency and most critically since the 11 September, 2001 attacks. American appreciation of Turkey’s importance rose until the 2003 war in Iraq. However, this did not entail greater American attention to Cyprus. There was no high-level American input in the 2002–3 mediation efforts. Indeed, unlike his predecessor, Bush did not send a high-ranking Presidential Envoy to Cyprus like Richard Holbrooke in 1996–98. In the run-up to the war in Iraq American attention to Cyprus reduced further, to the extent that some defined Cyprus as the first casualty of the war.3

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Conclusions The EU failed to contribute positively to the search for peace in Cyprus in the 1990s because it was not a single and coherent actor. While the official rhetoric suggested that a well-thought-out policy towards Cyprus and Turkey was designed to catalyse and complement the UN mediation efforts, in practice the EU’s decisions were the result of an aggregation of internal and external actors and factors. The same dynamics persisted and exacerbated following the accession of the divided Cyprus to the EU in 2004. This chapter has analysed how over the course of Cyprus’s accession process member state positions became increasingly congruent. Increasing congruence meant a rising compatibility with the views of the only member state with a strategy towards the conflict, namely Greece. Yet Greece was also a party to the conflict and not an impartial third party. Increasing congruence did not entail convergence, as the member states persisted in their neglect of the conflict. On the contrary, congruence increased precisely because most other member states tended to ignore the approaching prospect of a divided Cyprus into the Union. With the exception of Greece, no member state was willing to see more active EU involvement in conflict resolution, and all were content with the exclusive UN role in mediation. EU policies were carried out without a consistent strategy based on a convergent reading of the conflict and of the most appropriate strategy to contribute to its resolution. The EU institutional structure exacerbated these trends. The Commission tended to overplay its economic instruments, attempting to generate incentives particularly on the Turkish Cypriot side. But while presenting the façade of a typically European civilian-power approach, without an appropriate mandate the Commission did not have a strategy towards the conflict. The Council and the European Council largely ignored the issue, with the exception of Greece, which used all its Presidencies to pursue its aims. External factors, and most notably the positions of the two communities and of the United States, in turn interacted with internal EU national interests and institutional predispositions. As the 1990s proceeded these different forces crystallized into an increasingly irreversible ‘default strategy’ culminating in the accession of a divided island in 2004 and the entrenchment of the status quo thereafter.

Notes 1. Interview with Commission official, London, May 2002. 2. Interview with Commission officials, Brussels, March 2003. 3. Contribution by Christos Stylianides during the conference ‘Cyprus’s EU Accession and the Greek–Turkish Rivalry’, organized by Yale University, 4–6 April, 2003.

10 The European Union and the Western Sahara Conflict: Managing the Colonial Heritage1 Jordi Vaquer i Fanés

1. The origins and the relevance of the Western Sahara conflict The Western Sahara, known in Arabic as Saqiat el-Hamra, is a deserted strip of land located in north-west Africa, where the great Sahara desert meets the Atlantic Ocean. It comprises about 266 000 square kilometres, an area between that of the United Kingdom (244,000 km2 ) and Italy (301,023 km2 ), for a population estimated around 265 000 people, slightly less than Iceland. Sparsely populated throughout history because of its harsh weather conditions, the Western Sahara started to be colonized by Spain in 1884, a task which was not completely achieved until 1936. The territory became known as Spanish Sahara. The territory entered the UN’s decolonization agenda in 1963 and Spain undertook the first steps in 1965. But the slow progress of decolonization caused frustration among the Saharawi population; the harsh repression of those among them that protested convinced a group of Saharawis of the need to resort to violence. Thus, in May 1973, they formed the ‘Frente para la Liberación de Saqiat el Hamra y Río de Oro’ (Front for the Liberation of Saqiat el Hamra and Río de Oro), henceforth known as ‘Frente Polisario’. While the Saharawis started to organize resistance to the Spanish occupation, their neighbours claimed the territory of Western Sahara as their own. The governments of both Morocco and Mauritania claimed that the Western Sahara was a historical part of their territories that had been severed by Franco-Spanish treaties, and which should be immediately annexed to their territory. All North African players agreed that the territory should be decolonized at once, but whereas Morocco and Mauritania advocated the principle of territorial integrity, the Frente Polisario, backed by Algeria and Libya, demanded a strict application of the principle of self-determination. Having failed to reach an agreement, Mauritania and Morocco brought the issue to the International Court of Justice in The Hague. The Court’s 144

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opinion, issued in October 1975, was that neither Morocco nor Mauritania had sovereignty links in the past that would justify a right to the territory, despite the existence of some historical ties, and thus it advocated the self-determination of the local population, which coincided with the Spanish intentions. But Spain itself was in a difficult position as its dictator, General Franco, was agonising, and his regime was paralysed. King Hassan II saw an opportunity and took the initiative in November 1975, one month after the International Court of Justice issued its judgment. During the ‘Green March’ 350 000 Moroccans marched across the border and forced Spain to negotiate. The Spanish regime, in the last days of the dictator’s rule, was totally unable to react and was convinced by Morocco and Mauritania to transfer its administering responsibility to a temporary joint administration of Morocco, Mauritania and the tribal assembly of the Saharawis, known as Yamaa. Moroccan and Mauritanian occupation of the territory followed, with no opposition from the Spanish army, but resisted by the Frente Polisario, starting a long war in the desert. The war had its most active phase in the late 1970s and early 1980s. In 1979 Mauritania withdrew from the war after the regime changed following a coup that was partly the response to a series of defeats at the hands of the Frente Polisario. The initial support from colonel Ghadaffi’s regime and, especially, Algeria helped Polisario resist the Moroccan efforts (with French and American backing) to consolidate its hold on the territory. If by the early 1980s Morocco prevailed in most of the territory, a second confrontation took place in the diplomatic arena, where both Morocco and the Frente Polisario strove to obtain the support of countries and institutions to their cause. Thus, the Organization of African Unity, the Arab League and the United Nations witnessed the emergence of pro-Moroccan and pro-Saharawi coalitions trying to gain legitimacy for each side. The conflict of Western Sahara was the central topic of the international politics of north-west Africa throughout the 1970s and 1980s, accentuating the rivalry between Morocco and Algeria and polarizing the rest of the actors in changing coalitions around those two actors. The war between Morocco and the Polisario Front lasted until September 1991, when a UN-sponsored cease-fire came into operation. Nevertheless, the successive UN plans failed to find an agreement that satisfied both parts. Still today the open wound of the Western Sahara issue is the main obstacle to the timid efforts to achieve some sort of unity in the greater Maghreb area. Thus, it is a factor of instability in an area that is a direct neighbour of the European Union, and it has negative effects on every effort to achieve political stability and economic growth in the region.

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2. The positions of the EU member states The EU has kept a very low profile in the search for a solution to the Western Sahara conflict, compared with that shown in other conflicts in the Mediterranean basin where the UN is also involved, such as the Israel–Palestine, Kosovo or Cyprus issues. In all those conflicts EU policy has gone well beyond supporting the role of the UN. The main reason for this low profile is the different positions of the member states. Two of them have been directly involved in the Western Sahara, France and Spain, and still nowadays have a strong interest in its solution. Their positions in the UN and within the EU have often diverged. But they are by no means the only member states interested in the question. Indeed, most member states do have positions and follow the issue with interest. The issue is divisive, but it is not a chasse gardée of which the 25 refuse to talk (Koulaimah 1995: 104). Spain Spain, the former colonial power and still considered under international law as the ‘administering power’, is necessarily concerned by the future of the one among its former colonies that is still on the UN decolonization agenda. Ángel Ballesteros identifies the Western Sahara as one of the three open contests for Spanish foreign policy (Ballesteros 1998), together with Gibraltar and Ceuta and Melilla. Many democratic Spanish politicians never accepted the validity of the Tripartite Madrid Agreement of 1975 that transferred the administration of the Western Sahara to Morocco and Mauritania, and still now feel responsible for the fate of the Western Sahara and its people, abandoned to Moroccan and Mauritanian occupation by a crumbling dictatorship. However, Spain never had the opportunity to take decisions freely on the matter because it has very substantive issues in its relations with Algeria and, in particular, with Morocco. In the late 1970s and early 1980s Spain was subject to pressures from Morocco, the Polisario Front and Algeria that heavily conditioned its policy towards North Africa (Aguirre 1991: 180–7). The first elected, centre-right governments played a strategy of aligning themselves with either Algeria or Morocco in order to counter hostile positions, but the only rewards that policy got them were further retaliation and threats (Gillespie 2000). Subsequently the Socialist administrations from 1982 tried to develop a global approach in which good relations with all the players, and in particular with Algeria and Morocco, were the priority. The specific interests in Morocco, together with the greater stability and better disposition of the Alawi Kingdom, meant that by 1991 this country had acquired an eminent place in the hierarchy of Spanish bilateral relations,2 a position that it kept throughout the 1990s even after the accession of the Popular Party to the Spanish government. At the turn of the millennium, the Spanish stance on Western Sahara contributed to a rapid deterioration in the relations with Morocco, which led

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(between October 2001 and January 2003) to an open crisis between Madrid and Rabat, while relations with Algeria improved rapidly. A change in the Spanish government in March 2004 brought a clearly friendlier attitude in the new socialist government towards Morocco. Thus, Spain’s position on the Western Sahara issue has at times been an indicator of the state of its bilateral relationship with the southern neighbour. Morocco exerts pressure in two main areas: fisheries negotiations and sovereignty claims. Important parts of the Spanish fishing fleet depended heavily on fishing in Moroccan banks, and Morocco could create social unrest in dependent regions by putting obstacles to that access. The claim over Ceuta, Melilla and the smaller Spanish possessions in North Africa can also be activated or de-activated in order to influence the Spanish position.3 By and large, that pressure was always strong enough to keep Spain from denouncing the Tripartite Agreement and championing the cause for the independence of Western Sahara, but not to the extent that democratic Spanish governments will support the official Moroccan theses. The Spanish public is not only well aware of the situation in the Western Sahara but largely supportive of the Polisario Front and the independence option, and the political cost of supporting the Moroccan claim over it would be very high for any Spanish government. The Spanish government has the additional advantage of keeping links with the Polisario and the Saharawi population (a majority of whom speak Spanish). These have allowed Spain some minor diplomatic successes, such as convincing the Polisario Front to release some hundreds Moroccan prisoners as a gesture of goodwill (El País, 12 February 2003). This counter-balances to a certain extent the diplomatic clout France has over Morocco. The strong pro-Saharawi feelings of the Spanish population have not translated into open support of the Polisario, but have inspired a policy of staunch support for the UN initiatives and the constant flow of humanitarian aid for the refugee camps in the Algerian desert. France France is the other member state with a strong interest in the issue. It supported Morocco and Mauritania in their invasion not only through diplomatic means, using its privileged position in the UN Security Council, but also selling weapons and, between November 1977 and June 1978, with troops that participated directly in the war supporting the Mauritanian government fight against the Polisario Front.4 Before the withdrawal of the troops back to Senegal, France seemed to accept the Moroccan thesis that the conflict was not about self-determination but a bilateral Algerian–Moroccan issue. After the Mauritanian withdrawal from the conflict in 1979 president Giscard d’Estaing and the Quai d’Orsay declared that the conflict was an issue of decolonization, and recognized the right of Saharawis to selfdetermination, a thesis defended by the French left but rejected by important sectors of the right, including people like Michel Debré and Jacques Chirac.

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Even after the recognition of the right to self-determination and the subsequent improvement of relations with the Algerian and Mauritanian regimes, France’s main ally in the region remained Morocco. France, like the conservative Arab monarchies of the Gulf, feared that a Moroccan military defeat in the Western Sahara would destabilize a moderate and friendly regime threatening buoyant economic relations and the largest French community abroad. The arrival of François Mitterrand to power opened the door to the establishment of a Polisario office in Paris, but recognition of the SADR5 was ruled out as it would mean severing all links to Morocco. France continued to abstain in the UN votes for resolutions calling for direct talks between Morocco and Polisario and a referendum. Moreover, Paris continued to be the main supplier of funds and weapons for the war: the raison d’etat prevailed over ideological premises, just as it did in Spain. In the following decade the disastrous evolution of the Algerian crisis and the arrival of Jacques Chirac6 to power reinforced the role of Morocco as the privileged partner for France in the Maghreb (de la Gorce 1995: 145– 50). French support to Morocco was always clear, but at the declaratory level France remained committed to a solution within the UN and never went as far as recognizing Moroccan sovereignty over the Western Sahara. Within the European Union France continued to champion the Moroccan interest, in particular after the retreat of Spanish diplomacy that followed the Barcelona Conference and the change of government in Spain. France, with strong links to both Morocco and Algeria, would be in the strongest position to mediate in the conflict, but that would mean risking the good relations, in particular with Rabat. If officially the French position has been one of neutrality, some official gestures have shown open support for the Moroccan theses. Charles Pasqua, Minister of Interior, visited the Moroccan occupied Western Sahara in 1993, and a delegation of the French Senate did the same in a tour organized by the Moroccan authorities in 1996, the chairman declaring to Moroccan parliamentarians that ‘we are completely with you on the Sahara issue’ (de Saint Maurice 2000: 154–5).7 President Chirac, in an official visit to Rabat, referred to the Western Sahara as the ‘provinces of south Morocco’ (BBC News Online, 3 December, 2001), contradicting France’s official stance. Unlike in Spain, and despite the important implication of the country in the conflict, civil society remains by and large ignorant about the conflict and pro-Saharawi groups remain relatively marginal (de Saint Maurice 2000: 158). Nonetheless, it must also be noted that lately France has provided generous levels of humanitarian aid to the Saharawi refugees in Tindouf (Algeria).8 Other member states The fact that Spain and France have such particular interest in the conflict should not suggest that the deliberations on the topic of Western Sahara

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in the Council of the EU have only two participants and 23 spectators. On the one hand, relationships with Morocco are important from the strategic, political and economic point of view not only for the EU as a whole, but also for a number of member states. On the other hand, many member states have been following and participating in the debates about the Western Sahara issue in the UN and the EU. Finally, in the domestic arena of many member states the Western Sahara has managed to retain the attention of politicians, parliaments, pressure groups, non-governmental organizations and sections of the interested public throughout the last 30 years. Some member countries have supported the Saharawi cause from the start and have voted in the United Nations in favour of the right of the Saharawis to self-determination. Greece, among the oldest members, and Sweden, Finland and Austria have been in that position; Ireland joined them in 1987. Sweden, for example, was very active in the UN from the start of the conflict, the Swedish Social Democratic party (like many other Social Democratic parties in Western Europe) became a champion of the cause that still today is widely supported in Parliament, and the country has become one of the main donors of bilateral aid to the Saharawi refugees. The extent to which some of those countries are attached to the Saharawi cause was proved by Ireland’s resolute opposition in the UN Security Council to the UK and US supported proposal of autonomy, and to considering options other than self-determination via a referendum.9 Other countries have been more wary of upsetting Morocco and have generally abstained in UN debates. The most relevant of them is the United Kingdom because of its permanent seat on the UN Security Council. Unlike France and the United States, the UK never participated directly in the conflict, even though it may, by and large, share their strategic analysis. The UK parliament is particularly active in monitoring British policy on this issue,10 and the government has made great efforts to prove that it has not taken sides over all these years. Nonetheless, it reportedly supported the American backed resolution that opted for the autonomy plan (El País: 25 April, 2002), an option also favoured by Morocco and France, but rejected by the Polisario, Algeria, Russia and other countries, which was never approved. Other countries like Germany, Italy or Belgium have tried to keep a low profile in order to maintain good relations with Morocco and to avoid a split within the EU. In all of these countries the pro-Polisario movement has important defenders in parliament, local and regional authorities and among the NGOs. The ten countries that became EU members in May 2004 have also kept a low profile in this issue since accession. Two of them came from the generally pro-Saharawi, non-aligned group, and Slovenia was part of another non-aligned (Yugoslavia was one of the few European countries to recognize the SADR), while all other seven where part of the Soviet Bloc (which never recognized SADR). However, their foreign policies had changed enormously by the time they became EU member states, and so far they have not shown any will to become major players in the issue.11

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The capacity of the EU member states to influence important decisions in relation to the Western Sahara was tested in early 2006 when a fisheries agreement signed between Morocco and the Commission had to be ratified by the Council. Although some countries, such as Denmark, Britain or Germany, expressed initial reservations because of the legal implications of indirectly including Western Saharan waters, France and, in particular, Spain pushed hard for the agreement and in the end only one country, Sweden, voted against the final text, with three other, Finland, Ireland and the Netherlands, supporting the Swedish position, but not voting against the agreement. The fact that the EU member states have not taken sides in the way that many African, Arab and Latin American12 countries have does not mean that they have completely ignored the conflict. Some European countries have taken active part in the UN deliberations. The MINURSO has been staffed to a large extent by EU member countries and a majority of the force and police commanders since 1992 have been Europeans.13 Moreover, the main individual suppliers of humanitarian aid to the Saharawi refugees (excepting Algeria) have been EU member states, often through NGOs that have long-running programmes in the camps.14

3. The other actors Although the main focus of this book is on the analysis of the CFSP and the evolution of the positions of the member states, in order to understand the evolution of the EU policy towards the Western Sahara it is important to make reference to the other actors. In particular, the European Parliament has been very active, much more than the European Commission, which only reluctantly started to deal with the conflict. A number of NGOs and civic campaigns have also played a role with their tenacious involvement and interaction with European institutions and member states. Although the impact of all those actors on CFSP has not been decisive, it had enough influence to shape the overall outlook of the European policy. The European Parliament The most active EU institution in the Western Saharan issue has been the European Parliament, which became the only institutional voice within the EU to speak openly for the right of the Western Saharans to selfdetermination and to blame Morocco for its failure to co-operate with the UN in the settlement of the issue. This position only developed over time. The first time the European Parliament debated the issue the terms used by the ‘Lalor report’ prepared by the Political Committee went from ambiguity to an uncritical acceptation of the Moroccan perception of the conflict. Despite the vigorous protests of the

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Socialists and Communists, the final report only included a vague amendment mentioning the right to self-determination and was approved by the solid centre-right majority.15 This resolution was the only major sign of activism in the issue in the whole 1975–85 decade, apart from some scattered parliamentary questions. The 1984 elections and the Iberian enlargement changed the situation considerably: the Socialists became the largest group and 60 new MEP aware of (and in some cases, with a strong compromise over) the issue entered the European Parliament. Simultaneously a combined action of all the pro-Saharawi civil groups in Europe took advantage of the momentum in order to encourage the creation of all-parliamentary groups in many national parliaments. In this context the EP saw the birth of the inter-group ‘Peace for the Saharawi people’, that meets every month and has been crucial in order to keep the EP active in the defence of the right to self-determination of the Western Saharans. From 1986 the issue is included in several resolutions as well as in a growing number of parliamentary questions. The change of position in the European Parliament crystallized in 1989 when a ‘Resolution on the political situation in Western Sahara’16 was approved. This time the European Parliament defined the issue as a problem of decolonization, which must be resolved by granting the right to self-determination of the Saharawi people. It urged the member states to use their influence in order to implement a referendum and to encourage Morocco and the Polisario Front to enter into direct negotiations, and called on the European Commission to increase its humanitarian aid to the refugees.17 The EP achieved a crucial impact in 1992 when it did not give its consent to the fourth financial protocols with Morocco. The protocols needed the votes of a majority of MEP, and that was not obtained, so even though there were more votes for (246) than against (110) the protocols, they were not approved.18 Moreover, the vote was preceded by a resolution calling on the Commission not to start the implementation of the protocols ‘until those countries meet the [   ] conditions concerning human rights and the UN Security Council resolutions’,19 and including a direct reference to UN resolution 690 about the referendum of self-determination in Western Sahara. During the following decade the EP kept constant interest in the Western Saharan dispute, producing a large number of declarations,20 including references to the Western Sahara and the human rights issue in almost every single text mentioning Morocco21 and asking parliamentary questions. However the vote of the crucial texts of the 1995 EU–Morocco Fisheries Agreement and the EU–Morocco Association Agreement were not affected by the issue. The EP keeps a constant pressure in favour of the exercise of the right to self-determination of the Western Saharans and has been calling on the Council and the Commission for an increase in the levels of humanitarian aid. As a result, the EP is largely viewed as the most pro-Saharawi EU institution.

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There is one issue, however, in which the EU Parliament has not used its leverage in favour of the Saharawis: that of Fisheries agreements with Morocco (signed in 1988, 1992, 1995 and 2005). Despite the fact that those agreements, in a serious breach of international law, include Western Saharan waters, the majority of the European Parliament voted in favour of the last agreement (the United European Left, the Greens, the ‘Peace for Saharawi People’ Interparliamentary Group and some individual parliamentarians voted against),22 prioritizing the interest of the EU (mainly Spanish) fleet in the rich waters off the Western Sahara coast over their own concern for International Law.23 The European Commission The European Commission has carefully been trying to avoid getting involved in the Western Sahara dispute and, in contrast with its attitude in other areas such as Palestine, it has refrained from adopting any initiatives that might look biased towards one of the sides in conflict. Often involved in difficult negotiations with the Moroccan authorities, the Commission claims that the co-operation and the generous amounts of aid to Morocco, as well as the different agreements signed since 1975, should not be interpreted as a sign of political backing for its stance in the conflict. However carefully the Commission has tried to proceed, it could not avoid facing some difficult dilemmas. The first time the Commission was forced to make difficult choices on the Western Sahara was during the negotiations of the 1988 EEC–Morocco fisheries agreement.24 The rich waters of Western Sahara were a traditional area of activity for the Spanish fleet, but the Twelve were not ready to recognize the Moroccan annexation of the territory by the back door, which was an objective of the Moroccan diplomacy. Eventually the agreement talked about ‘waters subject to sovereignty or jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Morocco’ and the Commission hoped to have avoided the issue. However, there is no doubt that the waters of Western Sahara were included in the agreement (Juste Ruiz 1988: 753–5). The same thing in other forms, by the way, happened with the 1992, 1995 and 2005 agreements, all of which were negotiated by the Commission and duly ratified by the Council and the Parliament. In 1988 the Commission took most of the criticism from the European Parliament despite the fact that the member states in the Council fully supported their less than ambiguous stance. In response to the EP declarations the Commission started a humanitarian programme in order to support the 150 000 refugees in the Algerian desert. The European Commission’s Humanitarian Aid Office has been providing humanitarian aid to the Saharawi refugees since its creation in 1993, in collaboration with the World Food Programme and the High Commissioner for Refugees. The budget has been growing steadily since, and in the period 1997–2001 it more than doubled, from E7 million in 1999 to E15.6 million in 2002.25 This generous contribution is justified by the fact that the Saharawi have

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become ‘forgotten refugees’ and there are clear signs of donors’ fatigue: UN agencies have enormous difficulties since the late 1990s in covering the most basic needs. Today ECHO finds itself as the largest international donor and the EU with its member states have become the main source of humanitarian aid to the camps. The sub-national and non-institutional actors If Morocco has been by and large successful in securing the neutrality of the EU and its main institutional actors, with the exception of the European Parliament, this has not been the case with the non-institutional actors. Despite the lack of political activity and media interest the civil societies of EU member countries have kept the pro-Saharawi feeling alive to a surprisingly constant level of intensity over the last 30 years. In every member country there are associations of ‘friends of the SADR’ that co-ordinate their actions in the European Conference of Co-ordination of support to the Saharawi people that meets every year. The impact of their activities has been significant with elected politicians, in particular parliamentarians who form pro-Saharawi all-parliamentary groups in the member states and in the European Parliament. Rather than progressively dying off, the parliamentary groups have kept active. Many local authorities have also been engaged in the cause. Nowhere has this phenomenon been as widespread as it has in Spain, but Italian, Swedish, German and other regions and cities have been active at both political and humanitarian levels. Political parties at national and international level that have adopted positions in favour of the exercise of the right to selfdetermination by the Saharawis span the whole political spectrum, in particular parties of the left. Finally, many non-governmental organizations have taken an interest in the Western Sahara. Those organizations have conducted numerous assistance programmes that go beyond just food aid, which is the main issue tackled by governmental organizations.

4. EPC, CFSP and the Western Sahara Despite its crucial implications for the stability and prosperity of a region, the Maghreb, that the European Community defines as a priority both in terms of security and of politico-economic influence,26 during the first years of the war the EC kept an extremely low profile. The Nine declared their neutrality27 in a conflict that they defined as African, and by and large ignored the question28 for the following ten years. No other declaration mentioned the issue until 1988 after a first peace agreement between Morocco and the Polisario Front had been reached in the United Nations. In September 1988 the Twelve expressed their determination to support the efforts of the UN in order to hold a referendum and called the parties to contribute to a ‘just and lasting peace in the region’.29 Although this could be

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considered simply ‘declaratory diplomacy’, it was significant enough given the fact that only Spain, Greece and Ireland had voted in favour of the referendum in the United Nations, while the rest of the member states abstained (see Table 10.1). The Luxembourg declaration of 1991 confirmed the position of the Twelve: welcoming the UN achievements and confirming ‘their firm support for the Secretary-General’s efforts to implement the final stages of his plan’.30 In an issue that was divisive among member states, support for the UN actions had become the lowest common denominator and the basis for all future declarations. This position was reflected in declarations about the Maghreb31 and also in the answers to the questions asked by members of the European Parliament. The latter were all answered with similar statements about the support to the UN efforts whether they dealt with the EC role in promoting a peaceful solution to the conflict,32 arms deliveries to Morocco33 or the imprisonment of Saharawi militants.34 The support to the UN efforts and calls upon the parties to fully cooperate with the UN remained the basis of all following declarations. The declarations became longer and more detailed, making direct references to outstanding issues and to specific UN resolutions.35 In 1999 the first EUTable 10.1 Votes in the UN General Assembly resolutions about Western Sahara, 1984–88 A/RES/39/ A/RES/40/ A/RES/41/ A/RES/42/ A/RES/43/ 40 50 16 78 33 05-21-1984 02-12-1985 31-10-1986 04-12-1987 22-11-1988 Belgium Denmark France Germany Greece Ireland Italy Luxembourg Netherlands UK Portugal Spain Austria Finland Sweden

A A

A A

A A

A A

A A

A A Y A A

A A Y A A

A A Y A A

A A Y Y A

A A Y Y A

A A A A Y Y Y Y

A A A A Y Y Y Y

A A A A Y Y Y Y

A A A A Y Y Y Y

A A A A Y Y Y Y

Note: Y = Yes; A = Abstention. EC member states votes are in shaded cells, non-member states in white cells. Source: www.un.org

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specific content was introduced: a request for confidence-building measures and the humanitarian concern about the issue of prisoners of war, disappeared people and family visits, all of them consistently upheld by the EU and some of the member states.36 Most importantly, the EU started to speak with one voice37 in the yearly debate at the UN’s General Assembly Fourth Commission and produced a joint declaration (seconded by the candidate and the EEA countries) about the issue of Western Sahara. Although the content of these declarations introduced no novelty to the text of the contemporary EU Presidency declarations, it is significant that agreement was eventually found in the UN, where the states had cast different votes in the five controversial declarations signed between 1984 and 1988. After five years of resolutions adopted without a vote, a new vote was called to adopt resolution A/RES/59/131 on 10 November, 2004. Although the content of the resolution was very similar to that of the ones adopted between 1984 and 1988, all EU countries, including not only the newest members but also Austria, Finland, Greece, Ireland, Spain and Sweden – who had voted yes in the 1980s – abstained. Therefore, a degree of harmonization at the formal level had been achieved. This, however, did not mean that the EU had a unanimous voice in New York on the Western Sahara, as the divergences in the Security Council between France and Britain on the one hand and Ireland and Spain on the other proved in 2001. France made a clear point of its support for Morocco on 31 October, 2006 when it prevented the Security Council from including a plea that Morocco do more to safeguard human rights in the territory in the resolution that renewed the MINURSO mandate, despite all the European Council and European Parliament resolutions on the issue, against the opinion of the other 14 members of the Security Council. And in the Fourth Committee (Special Political and Decolonisation), where the EU managed to vote together in 2004 and 2005, when the EU position of promoting an agreed text between Morocco and Algeria became untenable, the vote split again.38 Having seen how crucial differences among member states remain, as well as the disagreements in the UN Security Council, the minimum formal consensus achieved may seem irrelevant. But we must not forget that there are potential benefits of this common ground, which basically amounts to limiting disagreement between member countries at least in the formal aspects, and undertaking a modest action in a number of areas (support for the efforts of the UN Secretary-General, humanitarian aid, joint statements in the UN), from the point of view of allowing the EU to play a role in the solution of the conflict, or at least to prevent it from playing a central role in its relations with the countries of the greater Maghreb. If we compare that situation with the one in the Arab League, where member states have openly taken sides39 and antagonize one other so much on that issue that it cannot even be debated, we can see how the contention of divergence places the EU in a better position to contribute to a settlement.

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The EU has also avoided taking sides, hiding behind UN resolutions in order to avoid antagonizing any of the parts externally and to cause more divisions internally. This contrasts with the Organization for African Unity (OAU), where countries took side either for Morocco or the SADR and eventually admitted the latter as a member state, to which the former responded by leaving the organization. Ever since the OAU (now AU) has been seen as partial in favour of the Saharawis and has lost all possibility of acting as mediator in the dispute. Even if EU member states disagree in many respects, they are certainly better placed than the Arab or African countries to play a catalyst role in the solution of the conflict. The European Union is seen by both Morocco and the Polisario Front as a neutral to potentially friendly organization. It is, moreover, already involved in the dispute even if it does not intend to be. The negotiations of the fisheries agreements, the European Parliament resolutions and actions, the member states’ contributions to UN efforts and humanitarian aid, ECHO’s job in the Western Sahara – all of them draw the Union closer to the conflict and give it a role, albeit a very secondary one. Since 1989 the EU defines the Maghreb as one of its geographical priorities.40 In a time of turmoil in the Eastern part of the Arab World, where the EU has proved inefficient and divided, stability in the Arab Maghreb seems an objective more at hand. Some developments in the area are encouraging. Libya’s co-operation in the Lockerbie affair has been the main of a series of steps that have brought Libya into the Euro-Mediterranean framework, opening the door to increasing co-operation with the EU and its member states. The stabilization of the Algerian internal situation and the newly reinforced links with the EU, France and Spain have coincided with some steps towards political liberalization. Further democratization has been witnessed in King Mohammed VI’s Morocco. But there are two barriers to the role of the European Union. The first one is external: the issue is firmly in the hands of the United Nations, and any effort to conduct an initiative outside that frame would expose the EU to additional pressure from the conflicting parts, compromising the new neighbourhood policy. The second barrier is internal: it is difficult to think of the EU taking a proactive role before a joint ‘European approach’ has emerged. The limited congruence has allowed for the emergence of a certain common ground, and a number of modest joint initiatives. This cannot hide the fact that divergences among member states still exist and their analysis of the situation and objectives differ considerably.

Conclusion: can there be a decisive European policy towards the Western Sahara? If the EU is to play any significant role in the solution of the conflict of Western Sahara, it will need a clear policy with an ambition to facilitate and

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shape the final settlement. It is obvious that the EU has the instruments but lacks the political will. When it comes to short-term interests, the EU is still unwilling to use its weight to produce effective pressure, and is indeed very sensitive to Moroccan demands, even compared with relatively proMoroccan countries. As a pro-Saharawi observer put it in relation to the latest fisheries agreement, ‘if the United States can preclude Western Sahara from its Free Trade Agreement, there is no excuse for the EU failing to make a similar preclusion’.41 This will only happen when the member states’ views converge not just at the formal level, but also at the level of the analysis of the situation and their objectives. What then are the conditions under which a real convergence can be achieved? Clearly discussion and even joint initiatives have not been enough to shape the member states’ positions in that direction. In the absence of any radical change in the situation on the ground or in the regional geopolitics, there seem to be three conditions that would make the emergence of an influential EU position possible. The first one is a rapprochement between Spain and France, whose strategic rivalry in north-west Africa dates back to colonial times. The rivalry was most obvious during the 2001–2 Hispano-Moroccan bilateral crisis, for example, when French criticism of Spain’s position in the Parsley island conflict with Morocco strained the already tense relations with the Aznar government. Relations subsequently worsened even more following Aznar’s participation in the US-led coalition that invaded Iraq against France’s opinion. The 2004 elections in Spain gave power to the Socialist party led by José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, whose foreign policy changed considerably, most notably regarding relations with the northern neighbour, France, and the south-western neighbour, Morocco. If direct talks between Spain and France on the issue have started since the change of government in Madrid, there is so far no public evidence that this has led to any substantial change of position in either side. France and Spain being the two member countries ready to invest most effort and resources to this issue, it is hardly imaginable that a joint European position will emerge before they have agreed in both the definition and the acceptable outcomes of the conflict. A second condition for the emergence of a European approach is the existence of a clear UN plan that at least the permanent members of the Security Council are ready to see implemented. That has not been the case with the Baker I and Baker II plans, which, not having gained the approval of both parts, have not been endorsed by all five permanent members. Consensus in the EPC/CFSP could only emerge around the UN-approved texts and principles, and it is highly unlikely that a European approach would depart from what has been so far the basis for consensus. Thirdly, the solution advocated by the EU should take account of at least the basic preoccupations of the member states in relation to the conflict. For example, France, Spain and a number of member states such as Belgium, Italy

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and Germany are most probably not ready to opt for a solution that would involve imposing a plan on Morocco against its will. Similarly, it is unlikely that Sweden, Ireland and other pro-Saharawi member states or, again, Spain, would agree to a solution that did not make some concessions to the Polisario positions, including a reference to the right to self-determination, possibly in the form of a referendum. Until such a solution is found, presumably by way of intensive bilateral and multilateral negotiations, it is highly unlikely that the member states will agree within the CFSP to use EU’s influence over either or both sides to make them accept a solution. Indeed, the renewed efforts of the Spanish diplomacy since the change of government are directed to finding a solution that would be agreed by the parts and subsequently confirmed in a referendum, rather than precluding any sort of referendum, or holding an open referendum in which there would be a winner and a loser. If those conditions are met, and the EU has a common approach, it will have all the assets and might be able to play a role in the solution of the conflict. Discussions within the CFSP framework have reduced divergence among member states and preserved at least some formal points of agreement. The EU has the economic and political weight to contribute to the implementation of a UN sponsored agreement. The question is now whether or not its member states are ready to transform this potential into action.

Notes 1. This chapter is partly based on one prepared for the ECPR Workshop on European Foreign Policy, Edinburgh, 28 March–2 April, 2003, which was published, after some amendments, in the European Foreign Affairs Review, Volume 9, No. 1 Spring 2004. 2. With the signature of the Treaty of Friendship, Good Neighbourliness and Cooperation Morocco became officially a first-rank partner. Yearly summits at cabinet level were foreseen in the Treaty, a feature that Spanish foreign policy reserves only to Portugal, France, Italy and Germany, in addition to Morocco. 3. We do not imply here that those two issues are not important per se to Moroccan diplomacy. However, we agree with John Damis’s observation that the Western Sahara issue has relegated all other issues to a position of secondary importance (Damis 1987: 188–211). 4. The kidnapping of French citizens by the Polisario in Mauritania served as the excuse for an intervention to protect the iron mines at Tazadit and the railroad that connected them to the port of Nouadhibou, but also to preserve the failing pro-French Mauritanian regime, which would fall to a military coup one month after the French withdrawal. The French intervention included scouting and attack missions against the Polisario columns in Mauritania and some air attacks, in particular in Zueratt. 5. The Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR) was proclaimed by the Polisario Front on the same day that the Spaniards left the Western Sahara. It is nowadays recognized by 66 countries, mainly developing countries. 6. M. Chirac chose Rabat for his first official visit abroad as President in July 1995.

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7. Incidentally, this is an exception to the rule in Europe, where the overwhelming majority of parliaments have been largely sympathetic to the Saharawi cause. 8. World Food Programme/ UNHCR News Releaser ‘Western Saharan Refugees await aid in desert camps’, 8 June, 2001. 9. Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, 31 October, 2002. 10. As proves the lengthy polemics in the Foreign Affairs Committee about the refurbishment of Moroccan guns by a British firm. See in paricular the House of Common Hansard of 30th January, 2001. 11. In the UN some of these countries, such as Hungary and Slovenia, made explicit reference to their attachment to the right to self-determination. 12. Although they not have been in the first line of the diplomatic conflict, like Arab and African countries, Latin American nations have shown a great interest in the issue of this Spanish-speaking ex-colony. Whereas some countries have made pro-Moroccan declarations clearly contradicting all UN resolutions (Argentina, Chile, Colombia and Peru), others have been among SADR’s main supporters (Ecuador, Mexico, Venezuela, etc. and in particular Cuba). 13. Today Austria, France, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Poland, Portugal and Sweden contribute troops and/or police to MINURSO. Belgian (twice), Austrian, Portugese and Hungarian officers among others have commanded the military part, whereas Austrian and German officers have held the police command. 14. See ECHO Global Plan 2002. 15. Some parliamentarians of the right defended in the debate the most extreme Moroccan theses qualifying the war as an Algerian aggression, the Polisario Front as a ‘foreign legion in the pay of the Libyan tyrant Gaddafi’ and its actions as ‘terrorism’. See Official Journal. Annex: Debates of the EP 1980–1981 session. Report of Proceedings from 10 to 13 March, 1981. 12 March 1981 (pages 167–78). Direct quotes about Polisario come from the interventions of M. Von Habsburg (p. 167) and Fergusson (p. 176). See also in the same publication the Proceedings from 9–13 February, 1981. 16. Texts adopted by the European Parliament, March 1989, Doc.A2-374/88 of 15 March, 1989, pp. 20–2. 17. If the radical change of position in contrast with the 1981 resolution can largely be explained by internal reasons, it is also true that the first agreement on the Pérez de Cuéllar plan in 1988 and the emergence of a UN consensus had made the question less politically sensitive. 18. Poor attendance was only a part of the explanation: in the same sitting, the EP approved protocols for Israel, Jordan, Lebanon and Egypt, and only the Syrian protocol was rejected like the Moroccan one. 19. Official Journal C 39, 17 January, 1992, pp. 4 and 26. 20. See in particular declarations RSP/1995/2553 of 16 March, 1995, RSP/ 1999/ 2505 of 14 January, 1999 and RSP/2000/2533 of 16 March, 2000. 21. For example RSP/1995/2629 of 13 July, 1995, RSP/1996/2598 of 6 June, 1996 and RSP/1998/2248. 22. The main achievement of the Pro-Saharawi side was the inclusion of a clause allowing the agreement to be suspended if international obligations are contravened,. The result of the vote was 409 votes for the agreement, 167 against and 66 abstentions. 23. That the agreement could go against International Law was confirmed by the European Parliament legal services advice issued on 20 March, 2006 warning that the formulation of the agreement made it possible for European vessels to fish in the Western Saharan waters.

160 The EU and the Management of Conflicts 24. Official Journal L 181/1, 12 July, 1988. 25. ECHO Global Plan 2002. The data are in Euro. This is the highest per capita allocation of any ECHO operation. 26. Bulletin EC, 12–1989, point 1.1.5. 27. See Official Journal C 276, 22 November, 1976, p.4. 28. For example in 1976 in a declaration about Africa and the OAU the Nine reaffirm the right of the Namibian and Rhodesian peoples to self-determination, ignoring the open conflict in the Western Sahara. Bulletin EC, 2–1976, pp. 85–6. 29. Bulletin EC, 9–1988, point 2.4.1., p. 60. 30. Bulletin EC, 5–1991, point 1.4.6, p. 84. 31. Bulletin EC, 6–1989, p.14. 32. Question H-534/86 by Mr Bandrés Molet (EP Debates, n. 2–346, 10 December, 1986, p.231). 33. Question H-726/86 by Mr Pranchere (CPE, volume 1, 1987, p.98). 34. Question H-554/86 by Mrs Lizin (CPE, volume 2, p.227). 35. See the 1998 Vienna Declaration in Bulletin EU, 12–1998 CFSP 19/23. 36. Bulletin EU, 6–1999 and Bulletin EU, 11–2001. 37. Conveyed by the representative of the country holding the EU Presidency. 38. 17 EU countries voted in favour of the Algerian-backed resolution (Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Latvia, Netherlands, Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Sweden and United Kingdom), five abstained like Morocco did (Czech Republic, France, Luxembourg, Morocco, Portugal and Spain), and three were absent (Cyprus, Lithuania, Malta). 39. If no member of the Arab League has recognized Moroccan annexation of the Sahara, some countries, and in particular the Gulf Monarchies, have been supportive of Morocco not only at the rhethoric level but also in financial terms, especially Saudi Arabia. On the other hand, five members of the League (Algeria, Lybia, Mauritania, Syria and Yemen) recognize the SADR as an independent country. 40. Bulletin EC, 12–1989, point 1.1.5. 41. Carlos Wilson, from Western Sahara Resources Watch in Launch of Fish Elsewhere: No EU fishing in Western Sahara in www.fishelsewhere.com, 6 February, 2006.

Part IV The EU’s Regional Policies

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11 ‘Conditionality-lite’: The European Neighbourhood Policy and the EU’s Eastern Neighbours Gwendolyn Sasse

Introduction1 The European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) has been an attempt to formulate a coherent EU-wide approach to the Union’s neighbouring countries. It expresses three related concerns of the member states and the EU as a whole: a concern for political stability on the EU’s borders, the wish to counter perceived or real negative implications of the recent round of eastward enlargement for the ‘outsiders’ to the east, and an attempt to define the endpoint of enlargement by devising an alternative to membership. Already in the early stages of policy formulation the focus of the ENP was widened rather than deepened to include ‘the ring of friendly countries’ around the EU. The ENP provides a good case study of the EU’s external relations and the aspiration to a Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). As a policy package the ENP is still in the making, and its future seems uncertain. The first ENP countries have already declared EU membership their strategic objective, a powerful illustration of the fact that the EU has become a victim of its own success: enlargement has effectively reduced the incentives the EU can offer as part of its external relations. This chapter has three objectives: first, it traces the rationale and evolution of the ENP. Secondly, it discusses the scope and limitations of the ENP with reference to the EU’s eastern neighbours Ukraine, Moldova and Belarus. Thirdly, this chapter aims to contribute to a more general assessment of CFSP. Does the ENP mark continuity or change in CFSP? To what extent does it reflect a foreign policy congruence or convergence among EU member states? Congruence of priorities and policy preferences defines the bottom line of a common policy, although – compared with convergence – the commitment to collective policies remains conditional and unstable (Wallace 2000; Musu 2003). Empirically, the line between congruence and convergence is difficult 163

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to draw. Moreover, the existence of congruence or even convergence per se does not guarantee effective foreign policy outcomes. The ENP attempts to project a single ‘EU voice’ into neighbouring countries but Europe and the EU ‘look’ different when seen from the north, south, west or east. The concept of ‘neighbourhood’ is an extremely large and malleable one. It loosely ties together a range of diverging national policy priorities. A minimum degree of convergence was required to formulate the ENP, but the shared recognition of a need for policy might be hard to translate into effective EU foreign policy. The ENP is clearly modelled on the institutional and procedural experience of the EU’s recent round of enlargement, which was hinged on the notion of conditionality. In this context the ENP may appear as a form of conditionality ‘lite’ for noncandidate countries. Within the ENP the EU’s commitment to a membership prospect is missing, but an ENP country’s type of relationship with the EU depends on the compliance with conditions modelled on the Copenhagen criteria for EU accession. The power asymmetry that characterizes the relationship between the EU and candidate countries is thereby enhanced within the ENP, while the incentive structures are less clear-cut. At the same time, the EU’s scope to apply leverage is limited from the outset. In the early Commission Communications about the ‘Wider Europe’ and ENP the incentive structure of the ENP was explicitly built around a country’s prospect to fully participate in the four freedoms (freedom of movement of goods, services, capital and persons). This model of ‘sharing everything but institutions’ is similar to that of the European Economic Area (EEA). In particular the extension of the freedom of movement of persons, however, blurs the distinction between the end point of the ENP and EU membership.2 Accordingly, the reference to the freedom of persons has disappeared from Council documents – it has been replaced by references to visa agreements, for example.3 The EU’s emphasis has switched to an emphasis on the creation of a free trade area and the offer of a ‘stake’ in the EU’s internal market as the primary incentive structure underpinning the ENP. The EU is reluctant to bring accession into the ENP, not least due to the fact that the consensus on future enlargement has become fragile. For a number of countries, most importantly Ukraine and Moldova, the ENP represents an interim step on the way to EU membership. Ukraine has emerged as an early test case of the ENP, pushing it to its limits from within. Given the apparent conceptual and empirical weaknesses of the ENP, it will be argued here that the main function of the ENP has to be seen in a cognitive change on the part of the EU and the member states. The formulation and implementation of ENP contributes to a greater awareness of all member states of the variety of neighbouring countries and a re-conceptualization of the EU’s borders. The Schengen agreement and the popular notion of the ‘Fortress Europe’ project an image of ‘hard’ external

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borders. In reality, however, the EU’s borders are best conceived of as a complex regime of different and overlapping territorial, functional and conceptual borders (Zielonka 2001). The ENP is the EU’s most explicit recognition of this political reality.

1. The evolution of the ENP During its eastward enlargement the EU did not systematically engage with the future eastern neighbours of an enlarged EU. The relations with Ukraine and Moldova (and Russia, but not Belarus) were based on Partnership and Co-operation Agreements (PCAs). In the case of Ukraine and Russia (and the Mediterranean) a so-called EU ‘Common Strategy’ was added in 1999. It primarily represented a rhetorical device asserting the EU’s commitment to a constructive relationship with the two countries, but as a one-sided EU document it failed to achieve a qualitative shift in EU–Ukrainian or EU– Russian relations. Its formulation of objectives remained vague and thereby reflected the different viewpoints among the member states (Sasse 2002). These different priorities (or lack thereof) also shaped the activities each EU presidency had to plan for as a sign of engagement with the Common Strategy. Overall, it added little in substance to the PCA and, in the case of Russia and Ukraine, the Common Strategies had run their course within their four-year lease of life.4 The EU High Representative for CFSP, Javier Solana, emerged as one of the instrument’s harshest critics. Apart from its shortcomings in concrete policies vis-à-vis the recipient countries, internally the Common Strategies were created as a CFSP instrument enhancing Qualified Majority Voting (QMV) in the Council. In practice decision-making by consensus has remained the rule, an apt illustration of the limits to the communitarization of foreign policy. With the accession of the first eight Central and East European countries, the EU faced the challenge of having to define its relationship with the new eastern neighbours. ENP is an expression of the fact that the EU has become the victim of its greatest success story in its external relations: EU membership has pushed other types of EU engagement into the background, leaving the EU with a long queue of potential membership claims and a concern for the political, economic and social consequences of inclusion/exclusion (White et al. 2002; Aslund and Warner 2004; Smith 2005). The future relationship with the eastern neighbours was at the heart of the initial Commission and Council documents on the ENP. The national interests of the new member states are more closely associated with the eastern neighbours than those of the old member states.5 The EU’s perception of a need to formulate a policy was nurtured by a concern for political instability or (semi) authoritarian regimes in the EU’s direct neighbourhood, security concerns related to migration pressures, and a wish to minimize the negative effects of enlargement on ‘outsiders’. Moreover, many EU member states were keen

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to pre-empt future claims to membership by offering an alternative type of relationship with the EU. In April 2002 the General Affairs Council requested that the Commission and the High Representative for CFSP think about the EU’s relations with its neighbours. Their initial thoughts, presented at an informal meeting of foreign ministers in September met with little interest (Wallace 2003: 5). Commission President Romano Prodi kick-started a more intensive discussion with a speech in December 2002. He talked about the enlarged EU’s need for a ‘ring of friends’ and summed up both the scope and dilemma of the ENP: ‘We have to be prepared to offer more than partnership and less than membership, without precluding the latter’.6 The ENP’s eastern focus was counter-balanced by the inclusion of the Mediterranean countries.7 Their inclusion was the logical consequence of ‘neighbourhood’ as a geographical concept. It also paid tribute to the interests of the EU’s southern member states and balanced ‘southern’ and ‘eastern’ interests. Thus, the evolution of ENP reflects the typical reflex of intergovernmentalism: national interests have to be balanced and matched, in foreign policy even more so than in other policy areas. The eastern and southern dimension of the ENP pull in different directions, not least because of the fact that a southern neighbour like Morocco has seen its membership application refused on grounds of not being a ‘European’ country, whereas this argument does not hold with regard to the eastern neighbours, such as Ukraine and Moldova. The Copenhagen European Council in December 2002 focused on the conclusion of the accession negotiations with ten candidate countries, among them the first eight Central and East European countries. The Presidency Conclusions includes a passing reference to the idea behind the ENP: ‘The Union remains determined to avoid new dividing lines in Europe and to promote stability and prosperity within and beyond the new borders of the Union’ (Council of the European Union 15917/02: 6). The Commission’s Communication to the Council and the European Parliament in March 2003 contains the first policy proposals (COM (2003) 104 final). The governments of Great Britain, Sweden and Denmark were among the driving forces behind the EU Commission’s Strategy Paper ‘Wider Europe/Neighbourhood’ (Timmermann 2003: 5). An internal Patten–Solana paper also shaped the concept of a ‘new neighbourhood’. It was based on the idea of a step-by-step deepening of relations with the neighbours on a case-by-case basis based on each country’s implementation of internal reforms. The EU Strategy Paper ‘A safe Europe in a better world’ of June 2003 re-emphasized the need to prevent new dividing lines in Europe. In July 2003 a Task Force under Günter Verheugen, then Commissioner for Enlargement, was set up to develop the strategy and process behind the ENP. The involvement of DG Enlargement is significant in itself. ENP is modelled on the accession process, most importantly in terms of the monitoring of the progress achieved by the countries in question. From the beginning Russia’s position vis-à-vis ENP has been

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cautious. In the early stages the Commission, supported by some of the member states, thought of including Russia, but this idea was dropped after Russia’s immediate negative reaction.8 Instead, the EU has been eager to reiterate its special strategic partnership with Russia. The EU–Russia relationship now hinges on the four so-called ‘common spaces’ (economic; freedom, security and justice; external security; research and education). Some of the recommendations and objective resemble those formulated under the ENP, and on the whole the realization of these ‘spaces’ has been a slow process. The first official documents on the ENP read like rough sketches of a policy idea born of necessity. The vagueness of these first steps allowed the policy to go forward but it also made it hard to flesh it out once expectations had been raised. The ENP is located somewhere in the undefined space between the EU’s partnerships and membership and is aptly described as ‘politics of the half-open door’ (Timmermann 2003: 8). At the core of the ENP is the offer of closer economic relations along the lines of the European Economic Area (EEA). Among the more opaque incentives are a ‘more effective political dialogue’, ‘enhanced cultural co-operation’, ‘perspectives of integration into transport, energy and telecommunications networks’ and ‘enhanced and improved assistance’. The vague wording running through Commission proposals, Country Reports and Action Plans indicates the need for compromise among the member states. The references to financial assistance are particularly cautious and prominently refer to other international financial institutions. The ENP includes a new financial instrument (ENPI) and a streamlining of existing programmes, such as PHARE, TACIS and Interreg. Their structure had been an obstacle to cross-programme targeting, and ENPI is meant to be a flexible policy-driven instrument. Its emphasis is on ‘administrative capacity’, mirroring the EU’s key concern during the accession of the Central and East European candidates. The ENP has a clear security dimension: the EU is concerned about illegal migration, organized crime, the non-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction and environmental disasters or ethnic conflicts spilling over its borders: ‘the choice for Europe is    whether to export security and stability to these new neighbours, or risk importing instability from them’ (Wallace 2003: 4). Good governance on the EU’s borders and increased trade and investments in the region are in line with the EU’s security and economic interests. The ENP actively links the EU’s internal and external security concerns and cross-cuts the EU’s pillar structure. Accordingly, the European Security Strategy of December 2003 makes a secure neighbourhood one of the EU’s strategic objectives.9 With reference to conflict-prevention and crisis management ENP offers the neighbours close co-operation within CFSP and ESDP on the condition that they consolidate democratic institutions. The ENP potentially creates a way into the European integration project via CFSP. The structure of the ENP and its monitoring process mimic the accession process, thereby reflecting the type of expertise the Commission has

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gained through eastward enlargement. The Action Plans under the ENP are by and large drawn up by the Commission, although overseen by the Council. In the early stages of the ENP there was a working group each on the eastern and southern dimension of the ENP, meeting with both the Commission and the Council. By now working groups on specific countries have been set up.10 The institutional hub of ENP inside the Commission is DG External Relations. Nevertheless, the policy design was shaped by the experience of the recent round of enlargement and, in parts, by the same people involved, for example from DG Enlargement. This explains the difficulties in giving the ENP its distinct policy edge and the overall similarity to the accession process of approximation and monitoring.11 In structure and content the individually tailored bilateral Action Plans between the EU and an ENP country resemble the Accession Partnerships with the candidate countries. A Commission official referred to the ENP as a mechanism of ‘cumulative conditionality’ – different conditions have to be complied with for different types of integration or association with the EU.12 Given that in the case of the EU’s eastward enlargement the record of conditionality is mixed across accession countries and policy areas (Hughes et al. 2004; Jacoby 2004; Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier 2005), this model raises immediate concerns as to its scope and effectiveness, in particular in the absence of the ‘carrot’ of membership. Conditionality in its widest sense has been most effective in CEE in the early transition phase before the actual EU accession process began. In cases like Slovakia and Romania it has contributed to regime change, potentially its biggest success (Vachudova 2005). Whether the Action Plans can fulfil a similar function in countries like Ukraine or Moldova remains open, but they are generally seen as a reform anchor by the domestic elites in favour of reforms. The Commission’s ENP Strategy Paper of May 2004, as endorsed by the Council in June 2004, sets out the objectives, principles and geographical scope of the ENP (including the South Caucasus) and the methods of implementation (European Commission 2004a). This Paper was supplemented by the Commission’s Country Reports on Ukraine, Moldova, Israel, Jordan, Morocco, the Palestinian Authority and Tunisia. These reports on the political and economic situation in a specific country are a variant of the Commission’s ‘Opinions’ on the applicant countries in the most recent round of EU enlargement. These Country Reports formed the basis for the Commission’s draft Action Plans which, in turn, were accepted by the Council in December 2004 and are still in the process of being adopted by the individual countries. The Ukraine Action Plan was adopted first on 21 February, 2005 at the EU–Ukraine Co-operation Council, followed by the Moldova Action Plan at the EU–Moldova Co-operation Council a day later. As of December 2006 three Action Plans have been finalized by the EU (with Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia) and a fourth has been sent to the Council for approval by the Commission (Lebanon).13

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The common administrative structure of the ENP makes it easier to compare cases, although the Council conclusions of 25 April, 2005 reinforced the notion of differentiation between ENP countries: ‘the ENP action plans to be negotiated with each of the partners will be on a level of intensity and ambition reflecting the real extent to which common values are shared, the state of relations with each country, its needs and capabilities, and common interests’ (Council of the European Union, 8035/05 (Presse 86): 12). The Council also noted ‘that possible difficulties which could arise in the joint preparation of an action plan with a partner should not impede on the adoption of action plans with the others’ (ibid.). Despite the individual tweaking of the Action Plans, they share a common structure, in particular those of the eastern neighbours, which cover political and economic reforms, co-operation in the area of justice, liberty and security, infrastructure networks and people-to-people contacts. Structurally the PCAs remain the basis of the EU’s relationship with Ukraine and Moldova. The Action Plans are meant to ‘bring into sharper focus the established agreements, refine and add to the Partnership and Co-operation Agreements and Association Agreements’ (Ferrero-Waldner 2005a), especially concerning fast-growing areas like Justice and Home Affairs, security and access to markets in Central and Eastern Europe.

2. The scope and limitations of the ENP The early response to the ENP among policy-makers and analysts was generally positive. The ENP has been seen as a way to counter the EU’s instinct to concentrate on internal affairs in the aftermath of enlargement. In this context a strategy towards the EU’s immediate neighbours has been called ‘the basis for any coherent common foreign policy’ (Wallace 2003: 1). Assessments of the thinking behind the ENP and the policy design have so far been cautiously optimistic, although they point to inherent difficulties and the need for political and financial commitment on the part of the EU and clearer incentive structures for the ENP countries (Wallace 2003; Smith 2005). Despite the wide range of issues the ENP countries bring to the EU there are a number of important commonalities: most of the countries share a GDP per capita below E2000 a year (Israel is the big exception in this regard), the EU is already the main trade partner for most of the ENP countries, whose FDI is mostly generated in the EU area. Their prospects of economic development depend largely on access to the single market, and they share a strong interest in the EU labour market as well as issues of border control (Wallace 2003: 8–9). Lynch emphasizes the strong focus of ENP on the EU’s political and security role, the promise of constant engagement through the Action Plans and the inclusion of a future prospect beyond the PCAs as the main new ideas embodied in the ENP. However, he adds several critical open-ended questions: does the ENP solve the exclusion/inclusion

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dilemma? Is the EU good at differentiation? Is there enough money for the ENP? Is the EU up to the task of monitoring and adjusting the Action Plans? Is the right incentive structure in place for each country? Is the Russia factor addressed? (Lynch 2004: 97). The bigger underlying question is whether or not the ENP constitutes a serious EU priority. Within the broad framework mapped by these questions some of the limitations of the ENP are all too apparent. It comprises a large number of countries associated with different policy challenges and different types of links with the EU or individual member states. The inclusion of the Mediterranean countries and the inclusion of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia in 2004 illustrate two key problems of the EU’s external relations: first, the national interests of individual (or groups of) member states effectively define or alter a policy area. Secondly, the EU finds itself in a position where it is hard to refuse a country’s (or region’s) bid for inclusion, especially in the wake of events like the ‘Rose Revolution’ in Georgia. The centrepiece of the ENP are bilateral, individually tailored ‘Action Plans’. This emphasis on bilateralism distinguishes the ENP from the EuroMediterranean partnership. The Action Plans are a joint venture between the EU and an individual country. This ‘joint ownership’ is supposed to correct an obvious weakness of the Common Strategies as a reform anchor. To some extent the individual nature of the Action Plans goes against the overarching idea of a neighbourhood policy covering all of the EU’s neighbours. A set of differentiated bilateral relationships appears to be another echo from the enlargement process: the accession countries, especially the front runners, were keen on being evaluated on their own terms. As part of the ENP the Commission will also issue regular progress reports on the basis of which the EU can decide to upgrade the contractual relationship with a particular country. These second-generation agreements – a constant point of reference in the discussions with Ukraine – could be the functional equivalents of the Europe Agreements or the Stabilization and Association Agreements. For the time being the Action Plans are political documents, while the PCAs form the legal basis of the relationship with the EU. The Action Plans contain ‘a rather ample dose of EU self-interest’ (Smith 2005: 765), such as the request of a readmission agreement with Ukraine and Moldova or the EU’s use of Ukraine’s air transport capacities. Moreover, the pitfalls of the Action Plans and the monitoring process around them are reminiscent of the Regular Reports in the case of the candidate countries. The priorities are often phrased in very general terms and often the addressee, the specific time-frame and concrete actions are not spelled out. The benchmarks for judging progress are not always clear, for example, in the area of ‘institutional and administrative capacity’. This area had also remained under-defined in the EU’s eastward enlargement. In connection with the ENP the Commission proposed not only the streamlining of funding through ENPI, but also an increase in resources for

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the 2007–13 budget to about E15 billion. This would almost double the amount available for 2000–6, although it would still account for only about 15 per cent of the total spending on external action. In the end the instrument was assigned a budget of about E12 billion. For the EU to be serious about its ENP objectives its financial commitment has to be increased significantly, but in the context of the recent budget disputes such a commitment proved limited. The early ENP documents do not mention a potential clash with Russian interests in the region or the interaction with existing co-operation frameworks in the region (e.g. CEFTA). An assessment of the geopolitical implications of the ENP has generated a sceptical view pointing to the EU’s more direct and more extensive involvement in regional and local crises, the need for a stronger military policy component, as well as fault lines built into the neighbourhood framework, most notably a potential tension between the ENP’s eastern dimension and EU–Russian relations, a potential tension between ENP and transatlantic relations due to an increased EU involvement in the Middle East and crisis management more generally. Thus, there is a possibility that the ENP ‘could diminish rather than increase EU security’, in particular with regard to the southern dimension of the ENP (Aliboni 2005: 6).14 The ENP might be best described as the member states’ consensus on the need ‘to do something’. However, there is no consensus as to which eastern or southern neighbours to prioritize or how to define the EU’s relationship towards them. Thus, the ENP does not mark a serious break with past experiences with EU foreign policy. Potentially the ENP commits the EU to a number of sensitive policy areas and a gradual opening of its market. Internally these issues will remain highly controversial and a subsequent toning down of the incentive structures or time horizons is the logical consequence. The EU’s eastern neighbours Ukraine and Moldova (and to some extent Belarus) provide a good overview of the scope and limitations of ENP. In the summer of 2003 the Commission started talks with Ukraine and Moldova about their respective Action Plans. In both countries elite and mass attitudes have been generally favourable towards Europe and the EU, although awareness of and engagement with the EU as an institution has grown only gradually (White et al. 2002). Ukraine: de facto recognition of a membership perspective? The EU’s enlargement of 2004 turned Ukraine into the EU’s most important eastern neighbour. To date Ukraine’s relationship with the EU has been fitful. Ukraine was the first post-Soviet state to sign a PCA with the EU in 1994, but it took the member states until 1998 to ratify it. In 1999 Ukraine became the second country with a Common Strategy (after Russia). For the last few years the EU and Ukraine have continuously talked past each other (Sasse 2002). Ukraine’s declared ‘European choice’ by and large remained a pragmatic rhetorical device at the elite level that had little concrete resonance

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and meaning at the mass level (Light et al., 2000). The EU continuously bemoaned the patchy implementation of the PCA, which was presented as the first step towards any new type of relationship. Ukraine, in turn, has complained about the EU’s anti-dumping measures against its chemical and steel products.15 Ukraine’s foreign policy has been characterized by a balance between a pro-Western and pro-Russian ‘vector’. President Leonid Kuchma (1994–2004) referred to Ukraine’s EU aspirations whenever it seemed politically necessary or lucrative. Under the new regime of President Viktor Yushchenko, who came to power during the ‘Orange Revolution’ in late 2004, EU integration became a cornerstone of the country’s foreign policy and domestic reform path. Yushchenko reintroduced EU and NATO membership into Ukraine’s foreign policy doctrine. His predecessor Kuchma had removed these objectives when he drew closer to Russia in the final stage of his presidency. Russian President Vladimir Putin has not publicly objected to the idea of Ukraine’s EU membership. As the ongoing Russian–Ukrainian gas dispute illustrates, Ukraine’s energy dependence on Russia and Russian business interests in Ukraine will always maintain a de facto Russian influence in Ukraine. Even Ukraine’s accession to the EU would not change this reality. The Commission’s Country Report on Ukraine of 2004 summed up the relationship between the EU and Ukraine so far and provided an overview of key political, legal, social and economic developments, including human development, privatization, regulation, sustainable development, relations with the international financial institutions and donors, trade, transport, energy, information society and research (European Commission 2004a). On the basis of the Commission Report the EU–Ukraine Action Plan was drafted and negotiated under the old Kuchma regime. At that stage the political clauses and the emphasis on human rights and media freedom proved to be the sticking points. The EU’s ‘Ten Points’, added to the Action Plan in the aftermath of the ‘Orange Revolution’, emphasized the EU’s commitment to Ukraine’s reform path and the speedy implementation of the Action Plan, a promise that it will ‘respond’ if Ukraine implements the Action Plan, and a commitment to an increase in financial assistance. The emphasis was on securing Ukraine’s WTO membership, followed by the prospect of free trade with the EU, including negotiations on trade and steel products. The substance of the Action Plan did not change. The ‘Ten Points’ are best understood as a ‘goodwill gesture’ on the part of the EU and a means to prevent a deadlock at a time when Ukraine was pushing for an explicit membership prospect. The Action Plan covers a period of three years – initially, the EU had envisaged a five-year period. The PCA is up for review in 2008; therefore the Action Plan adds to the momentum for a new contractual relationship at that stage. In the context of a new agreement it will be difficult not to give a clear signal to Ukraine whether or not membership is a prospect.

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The priority areas laid out in the Action Plan include the further strengthening of the stability and effectiveness of institutions guaranteeing democracy and rule of law (a variation on the first Copenhagen criterion for accession), ensuring democratic elections, media freedom and freedom of expression, enhancing EU–Ukraine consultations on crisis management, co-operation in the field of disarmament, non-proliferation and regional security, including a solution for the Transnistria conflict, WTO accession, the gradual removal of trade restrictions, improving the investment climate, tax reforms, a visa facilitation agreement, the gradual approximation of Ukrainian legislation, norms and standards with those of the EU, a dialogue on employment issues, including non-discrimination of migrant workers, and the full implementation of the Memorandum of Understanding on the closure of the Chernobyl nuclear power station (European Commission 2004b: 3). There is only a brief reference to the fact that these priorities will be monitored by the bodies established under the PCA, without providing further details on benchmarks, timing and follow-up. The remainder of the Action Plan details sub-topics under each of the priorities listed above. On the political issues the steps to be taken remain particularly broad and focus on ‘improving’ methods of consultation and co-operation. The concrete commitments of the EU are, on balance, smaller and less defined than those confronting the Ukrainian authorities. In addition to the new ENP Action Plan, an EU Action Plan on Justice and Home Affairs with Ukraine has been in force since December 2001. Compared with the ENP Action Plan the Ukrainians had little input into it. It defines priorities for co-operation, including readmission and migration, border management, the fight against money laundering, trafficking in human beings and drugs as well as corruption and the prevention of the sexual exploitation of children. The implementation of this mini-Action Plan is monitored by a detailed point-based scoreboard, which is regularly updated in co-operation with the Ukrainian authorities. As a consequence of this more specific Action Plan the new ENP Action Plan is brief on Justice and Home Affairs.16 ENP and the Action Plans have merged the substance of the PCAs with the rhetoric of the Common Strategies, the language of ‘integration’ and a stronger focus on security issues. In the words of a Commission official, the door for Ukraine ‘is neither open nor closed’.17 Nevertheless, there seems to be widespread agreement in the corridors of the Commission and the Council that the Action Plan has de facto acknowledged Ukraine’s membership prospect. The loose ENP framework provided at least an institutional and procedural element preventing a potential deadlock in EU–Ukrainian relations in the aftermath of the ‘Orange Revolution’ when Ukraine’s claim to membership gained a powerful momentum. The ENP (without the reference to the term ‘neighbour’) helped to shift the debate from a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to membership to a process of gradual approximation and integration.

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The Commission’s ENP Progress Report on Ukraine of December 2006 (European Commission SEC 2006) singled out the Memorandum of Understanding on Energy Co-operation, the opening of negotiations on visa facilitation, the EU’s granting of Market Economy Status to Ukraine and the EU Border Assistance Mission on the Ukrainian–Moldovan border as the key achievements. Ukraine’s ‘Orange Revolution’ was followed by an as yet inconclusive internal political struggle, which stalled domestic policymaking and decreased the immediate pressure on the EU to enhance its relations with Ukraine. Ukraine’s parliamentary elections on 26 March 2006 emerged as the most important domestic and international test of the country’s reform path since independence. Although a new attempt at making the ‘orange coalition’ of President Yushchenko and former Prime Minister Yuliya Tymoshenko and Socialist Party leader Oleksandr Moroz seemed within reach after the elections, the coalition talks dragged on for four months and brought Ukraine to the brink of a constitutional crisis. The EU and EU member states had expressed their hope for a reform coalition, but the domestic failure to form a parliamentary majority and government has reflected negatively on the country’s credibility. On 3 August Yushchenko signed a coalition deal with Viktor Yanukovych, his former arch-rival in the 2004 presidential elections. Thus, the legacy of the ‘Orange Revolution’ seems uncertain at the moment, as does effective policy implementation under the ENP. Moldova: following in Ukraine’s footsteps? Like Ukraine post-Soviet Moldova is a new, independent state facing a multitude of transition challenges resulting from the Soviet legacy. Moldova’s state- and nation-building, as reflected in the conflict over Transnistria, has proven an even greater challenge than that of Ukraine. Against the background of unfavourable socio-economic starting conditions this conflict has postponed vital transition policies. Moldova signed a PCA in 1994 that was ratified in 1998, but it has repeatedly fallen through the cracks of EU policy. It missed out on the symbolic value of a Common Strategy and it did not immediately become part of the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe of 1999. When it became a participant within this framework in 2001 its inclusion was disputed because of the unresolved issues connected to Transnistria, namely the de facto state structures, organized crime and arms and drugs trafficking. Russia and Romania represent the two poles of Moldova’s historical-political orientation. Thus, it is not surprising that the EU has only gradually emerged as a policy focus. Moldova’s ‘Principal Directions of Foreign Policy’ for 1998–2002 listed integration with the EU as a ‘strategic objective’. Romania’s accession to the EU plays a role in this re-orientation. Based on the ongoing conflict in Moldova and the country’s extremely low level of economic development, analysts deemed only a ‘most superficial form of European integration’ possible and drew comparisons with Belarus’s

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lack of scope for closer relations with the EU despite the fact that the EU is Moldova’s largest trading partner (Löwenhardt et al. 2001: 606). In the case of Moldova a vague framework like ENP can mark the beginning of more serious policy-based discussions with the EU. A change in political will, albeit under a Communist Party leader, has proven sufficient to change the tone in EU–Moldovan relations and present the EU as a reform anchor in the domestic political context. The fact that membership is not on the cards for the time being is an advantage rather than an obstacle for Moldova to gradually build a closer relationship with the EU within the framework of ENP. The EU–Moldova Action Plan also covers a period of three years. It was adopted in February 2005 and lists a number of specific priority areas next to those identical or similar to Ukraine’s Action Plan. These include a viable solution to the Transnistria conflict, the strengthening of the stability and effectiveness of institutions guaranteeing democracy and the rule of law; democratic elections, freedom of the media and freedom of expression, reinforcing administrative and judicial capacity, resuming co-operation with the international financial institutions, poverty reduction, private sector led growth, improving the investment climate through structural reforms and anti-corruption measures, an efficient system of border management (including Transnistrian ‘sector’), working towards the EU granting Autonomous Trade Preferences by ensuring effective control of the origin of goods from Moldova; the fight against organized crime and the trafficking in human beings; ensuring the efficient management of migratory flows with a view to a readmission agreement (European Commission 2004c:3). Compared with Ukraine’s Action Plan, the overall emphasis on political stability and security issues is stronger. The EU has only recently become a player in the Transnistria conflict. In early 2003 the EU imposed a travel ban on the Transnistrian leadership, which came as wake-up call and triggered a greater Moldovan commitment to the withdrawal of troops from Transnistria. Alongside the Council of Europe’s Venice Commission, the EU also became an observer to the Joint Constitutional Commission, which is trying to define a constitutional arrangement of power-sharing. The 2001 election victory of the Communist Party, followed by the election of its leader Vladimir Voronin as president, initially did not convince the EU of Moldova’s declared EU orientation. However, when President Voronin’s attempt to co-operate with Moscow failed, his focus shifted to the EU. His pro-EU platform provided the momentum for the Action Plan under ENP. The parliamentary elections on 6 March, 2005, which according to the OSCE corresponded generally to democratic standards, did not bring any significant political change in Moldova: the Communist Party saw its share of the votes reduced, but it still holds the majority in parliament. The centrist Democratic Moldova Bloc obtained almost twice the amount of votes (just under 30 per cent) than one of its bloc members (Braghis Alliance) in 2001. Modova’s integration

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with the EU has been among the parliament’s declared goals, and the new parliament re-elected Voronin as president in April 2005. An EU Special Representative for Moldova with a mandate to contribute to the settlement of the Transnistria conflict was appointed in March 2005, and a European Commission delegation opened in Chisinau in October 2005. The relationship between the EU Special Representative and the Action Plan remains unclear. ENP also provides a new institutional focal point for a more active engagement on the part of Ukraine in Transnistria, as it is mentioned in the EU–Ukraine Action Plan. This new framework underpins the EU’s first Border Assistance Mission on the Ukrainian–Moldovan border. The hope to turn ENP into a stepping stone towards EU membership underpins a new incentive structure for Ukraine vis-à-vis Moldova. The Action Plans on Ukraine and Moldova both call for a constructive relationship between the EU and the OSCE, highlighting recent efforts to pool inter-institutional expertise and leverage. The envisaged ENP co-operation between the EU, the OSCE and the Council of Europe echoes the reality of the recent round of enlargement where the EU’s accession condition to respect and protect minorities was anchored in OSCE and Council of Europe recommendations. Through ENP the EU has voiced a greater commitment to Moldova and a solution to the Transnistria conflict, and it has created a new incentive structure for Ukraine to support conflict resolution. An enhanced role of the EU in Transnistria, however, does not immediately change the dynamics of the frozen conflict, as the initial negative Transnistrian responses to the EU’s involvement and its co-operation with the OSCE demonstrate (Vahl and Emerson 2004). Despite the emphasis on the bilateral nature of the Action Plans, the overarching ENP framework encourages comparisons among the participating countries, especially when their declared strategic objectives are similar. Moldova effectively uses Ukraine as a yardstick and, as a result, ended up with an Action Plan which ‘is too big’ and for the time being resembles ‘a virtual reality’.18 So far the general commitment of the leadership of Moldova to the EU has not been matched by the capacity to implement the Action Plan. The cases of Ukraine and Moldova illustrate the limitations of the ENP and effectively redefine the ENP as a first step towards EU membership – against the initial intentions of the EU.19 The ENP was designed to address the eastern neighbours in the first instance; now the eastern neighbours are actively trying to reshape the ENP. Belarus: a role for ENP in contributing to regime change? As of now, Belarus has no official relationship with the EU. It signed its PCA in 1995, but this agreement has not entered into force because of the EU’s refusal to recognize President Lukashenka’s referendum and constitutional amendments of 1996. However, a consistently hard line against the regime in Belarus would rid the EU of any chance of encouraging democratization. Therefore, the EU is attempting a dual strategy of simultaneously

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maintaining basic contacts with government representatives and supporting opposition groups. Some member states, such as Germany, insisted on references to Belarus within the ENP, and the Council has repeatedly underlined that Belarus has the ‘opportunity to become an active partner of the EU in the framework of the European Neighbourhood Policy’ (Council of the European Union, 14724/04). For President Lukashenka a closer relationship with the EU presents a risk, as it could undermine his own regime and signal a departure from its only political ally – Russia. Nevertheless, parts of the Belarus political elite, namely Foreign Minister Sergei Martynov, welcomed the EU neighbourhood concept in 2003 and called its economic dimension compatible with Belarus’s interests (Timmermann 2003: 17). Despite a potential opening for some economic links, no concrete steps have followed this initial statement. Lukashenka has so far refused to accept conditional offers by the OSCE and the Council of Europe, which could pave the way for a new economic relationship. Indirectly, EU project funding through ENPI could affect Belarusian border regions and tie their population and enterprises to those on the other side of the EU border. These contacts could foster greater interaction with the EU at a non-governmental level. The opposition to Lukashenka has grown somewhat, and the isolation from Europe (apart from Russia) is a feeling shared by a bigger cross-section of society. Inside the European Commission there is talk about a ‘shadow Action Plan’ for Belarus, but its contours are vague, as there is little to offer at the moment apart from a prospect for closer co-operation through ENP under a different political regime. It is feasible that the ENP performs a certain anchoring function for opposition forces in Belarus. The parliamentary elections of October 2004 and the related attacks on opposition leaders and journalists were condemned by the EU and the OSCE. They were followed by EU visa restrictions on the individuals responsible for the fraudulent elections and human rights violations. Since then the EU has concentrated on co-ordinating international support for NGOs in Belarus and on financing an international broadcasting initiative that aims to facilitate citizens’ access to information. The presidential elections, brought forward by several months to March 2006, once again sidelined the opposition to Lukashenka.

Conclusion The EU projects an image of ‘hard’ external borders, although a layered set of relationships across these borders already prevails (Zielonka 2001). The ENP is the best illustration of this political and economic reality. Therefore, the most important contribution of the ENP might be its cognitive shift with regard to the nature of the EU’s borders. By definition the ENP prescribes fuzzy and overlapping borders and rests on a definition of centre–periphery relations rather than a specific geographical axis. The ENP also reflects a

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shift in the perception of the EU’s policy challenges and priorities, especially vis-à-vis the EU’s eastern neighbours. In a policy area dominated by the member states, the inclusion of diverse eastern and southern neighbours goes some way towards forcing each member state to think about all of the ENP countries, thereby going beyond their immediate neighbours and traditional areas of national interest. Such an engagement is the precondition for any type of foreign policy convergence. The lack of a strategic vision in CFSP has often been criticized, and although the operationalization of the ENP is hampered by conceptual and practical weaknesses, the ENP is one of the first attempts at formulating such a vision. The ENP is located in between the EU’s traditional external relations and a new outlook for CFSP. It is a co-production of the Commission and the Council and can be described as ‘the communitarization of foreign policy towards specific countries’.20 The Commission took a lead in designing the ENP, but the Council and individual member state representations have played a greater role – partly in an attempt to limit the Commission’s foray into the sphere of foreign policy – than during the process of eastward enlargement when the Commission became almost the sole interlocutor for the candidates. The ENP tries to emphasize the congruence of member state interests but cannot conceal the diverging national priorities associated with the countries and issues subsumed under the ENP. As such, the policy reality of the ENP directly reflects the shortcomings of CFSP. In its initial stages the ENP has not been controversial among the member states. Its wide remit combines convergence in terms of a realization of the importance of the EU’s neighbourhood with a vague policy outlook. Follow-up actions, in particular in the area of conflict resolution and with regard to the question of adding a membership perspective to some of the Action Plans, are likely to bring out divisions among the member states. New issues, in which the EU and the member states have not had a prior stake, such as the Transnistria issue, could become a new focal point for a common policy. Thus, any convergence within the ENP will be issue-based. The policies towards the neighbouring countries will remain an important test case of CFSP: ‘A common foreign and security policy that did not have at its core a coherent strategy towards the EU’s immediate neighbours would be a contradiction in terms’ (Wallace 2003: 27). The success or failure of the ENP is tied to the credibility of the EU. If no serious alternative to membership can be formulated for some or all of the ENP countries, and if the most serious issues facing individual ENP countries are not addressed effectively the EU’s credibility as a foreign policy actor will suffer. Moreover, the ENP raises the stakes and expectations of the countries involved. Any frustration with a half-hearted policy will either increase the pressure for membership promises or introduce a new element of tension into the EU’s relations with its neighbours. The ENP adds a new momentum to the EU’s commitment to conflict resolution, for example in Moldova, but a failure to ‘deliver’ bears the risk of further alienating the conflicting sides.

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Measured against its own objectives, the chances for the ENP to become a coherent and successful foreign policy initiative are slim. Ukraine has emerged as the first serious test. In its current format the ENP will only work in those countries that either do not aim for membership or see the ENP as an opportunity to build closer relations on the way to a prospect for membership (e.g. Moldova, possibly Belarus in the future). The ENP resembles previous attempts of the EU at formulating an alternative to full membership (e.g. European Economic Area, the European Political Area or the European Conference). None of these models put a stop to the attractiveness and goal of membership. At best, the ENP will buy the EU time to formulate a response to potential membership claims. However, the scope for such a response is shrinking, as the ENP countries are adopting EU norms and legislation and are being socialized into EU networks. Ultimately, the ENP increases the pressure on the EU to spell out where enlargement will end or what the treaty criterion for membership – being a ‘European’ country – entails.

Notes 1. The research for this chapter has been supported by a Leverhulme Research Fellowship. 2. This has led some analysts to describe the projection of the free movement of people as a ‘myth’; see Del Sarto and Schumacher 2005: 30. 3. Author’s interview with a Commission official from DG External Relations, Brussels, 12 April, 2005. 4. In contrast to the Common Strategies on Russia and Ukraine, the Common Strategy on the Mediterranean Region of 2000 was extended by the European Council in 2004. 5. Poland was involved in the development of ENP almost from the start, thereby shaping CFSP before officially being an EU member (EU Enlargement Watch, Brussels, 2003, 121, S.III, 5–12). 6. Romano Prodi, Speech to the Sixth ECSA World Conference, Brussels, 5–6 December, 2002. 7. Solana’s office criticized this decision by pointing to the dilution of the initial idea and the overly complex bureaucracy the southern dimension would add. Author’s interview with an official from the Policy Unit, General Secretariat, Council of the European Union, Brussels, 12 April, 2005. 8. Author’s interview with an official in the General Secretariat, Council of the European Union, Brussels, 12 April, 2005. 9. European Council, A Secure Europe in a Better World: European Security Strategy, Brussels, 12 December, 2003. 10. Author’s interview with an official from the General Secretariat, Council of the European Union, Brussels, 12 April, 2005. 11. Author’s interview with a Commission official from the Unit European Neighbourhood Policy, DG External Relations, Brussels, 12 April, 2005. 12. Ibid. 13. No Action Plan has been finalized for Egypt yet.

180 The EU’s Regional Policies 14. With regard to the Southern Mediterranean, the assessment of the ENP has generally been more detailed and sceptical. The experience of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) has informed this assessment. EMP is generally seen as not having lived up to its expectations and as having had a very modest impact on socio-economic developments and stability in the Mediterranean. Although ENP avoids some of the design flaws of EMP, namely the multilateral approach, a new role for conditionality and a clearer definition of the EU’s security interests, it is not deemed capable of contributing to social and economic development or connecting the EU’s southern neighbours to the EU in a sustainable way. See Del Sarto and Schumacher 2005. In fact, analysts focusing on the Southern Mediterranean fear that polices ‘will disintegrate into relatively meaningless political exercises’; see Pardo and Zemer 2005: 41. 15. For a discussion of the ambiguities surrounding Ukraine’s legal approximation to the EU within the PCA framework, see Petrov 2003. 16. The Commission’s Country Report (2004) sums up the Ukrainian legislation in this area, the demilitarization and transfer of the Ukrainian border troops to the State Border Service and enhanced monitoring capability in the context of trafficking and laundering. 17. Author’s interview with a Commission official from DG External Relations, Brussels, 12 April, 2005. 18. Ibid. 19. This impression was widely shared among Council and Commission officials working on the ENP interviewed by the author in Brussels, 12–13 April, 2005. 20. Statement by a Commission official from the Unit European Neighbourhood Policy Unit in DG External Relations, interviewed by the author in Brussels on 12 April, 2005.

12 The EU and the Baltic Sea Area Nicola Catellani

Introduction This chapter deals with the development of the external policy of the European Union (EU) towards the Baltic Sea area in the period between the two enlargement ‘waves’ of 1995 and 2004. The chapter argues that there was an evident overlap between the foreign policy interests of Sweden and Finland, the Nordic countries that joined the EU in 1995, and the collective interests reflected in the two main policy initiatives launched by the EU, the Baltic Sea Region initiative (BSRI) in 1996 and the EU’s Northern Dimension (ND) in 1998. Both initiatives aimed at complementing the bilateral relations with the neighbours through the creation of an extra regional channel of dialogue and co-operation based on an inclusive approach vis-à-vis Russia and an important role attached to the regional organizations operating in the area. Even if the development of an EU foreign policy towards the Baltic Sea area has been characterized by some competitive dynamics among the Nordic countries, the chapter will underline how, in the framework of the CFSP, the national interests of the Nordic countries have substantially converged towards a set of ‘regional’ interests that have been successfully projected at EU level. In particular, as the case of the Northern Dimension has demonstrated, the EU foreign policy-making process towards the Baltic Sea region has been characterized by a convergence of interests of a small group of member states around which a substantial congruence has been achieved with the other actors involved in the foreign policy-making process. It will also be argued that the creation of a convergence around a number of elements characterizing the EU foreign policy towards the Northern neighbourhood has been influenced by the presence of regional organizations such as the Council of the Baltic Sea States (CBSS), the Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC) and the Arctic Council (AC). While their role was neglected in the early 1990s, some of these organizations have been acquiring importance and centrality as interfaces between the Northern member states and 181

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the EU and between ‘insiders’ (EU members) and ‘outsiders’ (candidate countries and EEA countries and neighbours). Such elements need therefore to be taken into account when discussing of the EU foreign policy towards the area.

1. The presence of the EU in the Baltic Sea area: from the Baltic Sea Region Initiative to the Northern Dimension The incremental presence (Allen and Smith 1990) of the European Union in the Baltic Sea region since the early 1990s has been the result, on the one hand, of a gradually increasing number of instruments, financial resources and initiatives developed by the EU towards the area and, on other hand, of the creation of a dense network of institutional links among the states in the area, which grew in parallel to the process of enlargement (1995 and 2004). In order to fully understand the dynamics underlying the increased attention devoted by the EU to the area, one has to look at the parallel developments that unfolded in the Baltic Sea region in terms of regional co-operation. The presence of the EC/EU in the Baltic Sea area before the membership of Sweden and Finland in 1995 was rather marginal. This was the result of a number of elements that can be related to the geopolitical situation, which characterized the area until the early 1990s, to the lack of attention attached by Germany to the Baltic Sea area as a strategic area, and to the scarce activism of Denmark in the context of the European Community. Until the 1980s, the Baltic Sea was seen as one of the areas in which the efforts of the Nordic countries to keep the tension low had substantially succeeded. The so-called ‘Nordic balance’ had worked substantially well during the 1960s and 1970s. The 1980s, however, saw a renewed tension as a result of the redeployment of Russian troops to the Kola peninsula and to the naval bases of the Baltic. Therefore, despite some attempts at lowering tensions in the framework of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE), the regional environment in security terms was characterized by division and insecurity. As already mentioned an important element at the basis of the absence of the EC from the area is the low priority that the region had for Germany in strategic terms. The political attention of the German decision-makers was in fact oriented eastward rather than northward, and this trend was strengthened by the reunification process. At the same time one could argue that it was precisely because of German insistence at the EU level for more attention to Central and Eastern Europe that it was difficult for Bonn to push also for an enhanced presence of the EC/EU in the Baltic Sea area.

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1.1 The agenda of the Northern neighbourhood The regional co-operation that developed in the Northern neighbourhood of the European Community/European Union during the 1990s was the result of a number of concerns that were not only related to the disintegration of the Soviet Union in 1991. A number of issues, particularly in the field of the environment, had already acquired priority in the foreign policy agenda of the Nordic countries since the mid-1980s. The disaster at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant in 1986 caused serious long-term damage to the ecosystems of the northern parts of Scandinavia, and openly put in question the safety not only of civil nuclear power plants but also of all the military facilities and equipment deployed both in the Barents and Baltic Sea areas. Finland and Norway were, for geographical reasons, more directly affected by the environmental threats originating from the Kola peninsula, but all Nordic countries attached a high priority to the issue. A second issue that was on top of the regional agenda after the break-up of the Soviet Union was the consolidation of a confidence-building process between Russia and the three Baltic countries. The two main obstacles in Russian–Baltic relations have been the recognition of borders and the treatment of the large Russian minorities present in Estonia and Latvia.1 Both elements are still on the agenda of the bilateral relations between the Baltic states and Russia. However, as a result of EU membership of the two Baltic countries in 2004, the issues have become part of the broader EU–Russia relations. These issues obstructed the development of a region-wide process of co-operation for many years now, and they still represent a matter of political friction between Moscow and the Baltic states. The creation of the Council of the Baltic Sea States was partially aimed at developing an institutional mechanism to improve relations between Russia and the Baltic states. It could be argued that the overall lack of effectiveness of the organization in its first two years of activity was precisely due to tense Russia–Baltic states relations.2 Another element which acquired increasing significance after the EU enlargement to Poland and the Baltic countries was related to the Russian oblast of Kaliningrad. The Russian enclave, surrounded by Poland and Lithuania, has attracted a great deal of attention for a variety of reasons. First of all, Kaliningrad is a ‘hard security’ question. As a result of the breakup of the Soviet Union, and the loss of the important Baltic port of Tallin, Russia has been strengthening its remaining Baltic strategic assets, particularly Kaliningrad which, as a result of a continued build-up of forces in the late 1990s, is 25 per cent over its arms limitations as defined by the Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE) treaty (Brillantes 1997). Furthermore, there were a number of problems identified as ‘soft’ security issues that perhaps represent a more imminent and tangible danger, such as health threats derived from the spread of communicable diseases, drug trafficking and the fight against organized crime (Pursianinen 2002).

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In sum, the agenda that emerged during the 1990s, and that was brought forward into the new century, was quite substantial and covered a number of policy areas. In this context, the response of the Nordic countries took the form of a closer and more active participation in the European integration process, which ultimately led to increased European attention towards the area. This policy strategy adopted by the Nordics resulted in a multi-faceted process of institution-building at the regional level, aimed at involving the neighbours into a permanent setting of co-operation through the creation of a set of regional organizations. 1.2 The Baltic Sea Region Initiative The BSRI was the first active step that the European Union took to strengthen political stability and economic development in the Baltic Sea area. It largely built on ‘the potential for stronger concerted effort to enhance development and increase synergy through a regional integrated approach for co-operation in the Region’ (European Commission 1995b). The initiative focused on four key areas – infrastructure, the environment, energy and Cross-Border Co-operation (CBC) – and represented the first effort made by the EU to approach the area comprehensively. By launching the initiative within the framework of the CBSS,3 the Commission implicitly recognized the strategic importance that the area as a whole (i.e. beyond the territory of the member states) had for the economic and political interests of the EU. At the same time, the BSRI could be seen as a sort of formal endorsement of the fact that the Union was already, as a matter of fact, a key player in the region, especially in financial terms, as demonstrated by the doubling of the amount of EU resources allocated to the region following the enlargement northwards (European Commission 1995b). The Commission underlined that the BSRI did ‘not require funding additional to the existing Community program’: its objective was rather to boost the coherence of the EU in the area through enhanced co-ordination of existing instruments (European Commission 1996). Interestingly the BSRI recognized for the first time that the ‘complementarity between the work of the CBSS and the Union is an important objective of future co-operation’ (European Commission 1996: 6). Although this element might seem secondary, it highlights an interesting point, that is, the recognition of some kind of a role for a regional, non-EU, actor in the management of the external relations of the EU. The novelty of this element should not be underestimated. As also pointed out by Ojanen, the EU has never allowed external institutional actors, or ‘outsiders’ in general, to have a say in the elaboration of its policies or strategies towards the neighbouring areas, as the case of the EU’s policy towards the Mediterranean demonstrates. Along these lines the involvement of the CBSS, a regional organization, implied a certain discontinuity with the approach that the Commission had traditionally applied to the implementation of its external policies (Ojanen 1999).

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The launch of the BSRI initiative within the framework of the CBSS should be read as an indication that the Swedish efforts to involve the European Union more actively in the Baltic Sea area through the active participation of the Commission in the work of the regional organization were largely successful. However, Sweden’s approach, in contrast to Finland’s, was aimed less at using the EU as a vehicle for its own foreign policy towards Russia. In other words, from a Swedish perspective, the involvement of the European Commission in securing greater attention to the Baltic Sea area on the part of the EU was only a complement to its own bilateral relations with Russia and the other countries in the area. Despite the fact that the BSRI was formally an initiative of the European Commission in the framework of a regional organization, it is difficult to detach it from the position taken by the EU Council in 1995 on the policy of the EU towards the Baltic Sea region. 1.3 The Northern Dimension The Northern Dimension initiative can be considered as the main attempt made by the European Union to frame its relations with the neighbours in the North. Launched in 1997 by the Finnish Prime Minister Lipponen, the Northern Dimension landed on the agenda of the EU Council of Ministers in 1998 and it became formally a policy of the Union in 1999. In 2000 an Action Plan (AP) covering a wide number of policy areas (infrastructure, natural resources, environment, nuclear safety, education, research, public health, cross-border co-operation, cross border trade and investment, fight against crime) was launched with the aim of streamlining the activities of the European Union and strengthening the coherence of the external policies targeting the area. The second AP (2004–6), approved under the Danish Presidency in 2002, focused on five broad priority areas: 1) economy, business and infrastructure; 2) human resources, education, culture, scientific research and health; 3) the environment, nuclear safety and natural resources; 4) cross-border co-operation and regional development; 5) justice and home affairs. Finally, in late November 2006 during the Northern Dimension Summit the EU and the Russian government4 signed the Northern Dimension Framework document that, together with a joint political declaration, has marked a new phase for the policy.5 The ND embodies three main innovative elements in the panorama of EU policies towards the neighbouring area: 1) The full involvement of the regional organizations (the Council of the Baltic Sea States, the Barents Euro-Arctic Council, the Arctic Council and the Nordic Council) in the implementation of an EU policy. 2) An enhanced horizontal co-ordination of the actions of the Commission’s Directorates General to improve the effectiveness of the EU instruments in targeting the area.

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3) The involvement of the ‘outsiders’/neighbours (i.e. Russia in particular and, the EEA countries i.e. Norway and Iceland) in the decision-making process through dedicated ministerial conferences and indirectly through the active participation of the regional organizations to the process. The initiative does represent, de facto, a regional expression of the EU/Russian ‘four spaces’ and it does represent the first real attempt to implement the notion of ‘joint ownership of the process’ that has characterized the development of the European Neighbourhood policy. The ND has indeed worked as a catalyst for several foreign policy priorities of the EU Nordic members. The flexible nature of the initiative – that allows for a wide number of areas to be included as priorities – as well as its rather low degree of institutionalization (compared, for example, with the EuroMediterranean Partnership) have indeed contributed to make the ND an instrument through which convergence has been encouraged and achieved. In the early stages of its development elements like the absence of a dedicated budget for the initiative contributed to making the ND attractive even to the most economical minds: the initiative received the full support of the Council as soon as the initial frictions (between the Nordics on the one hand, and some of the net contributors and Spain on the other) about the possibility of equipping the ND with a budget of its own were solved. It has to be underlined that despite the efforts made by the Nordic countries, and in particular Finland and Sweden, to involve the non-Nordic members of the EU in the development and implementation of the initiative, the whole process has been driven by those members directly involved. With the only exception of Spain, the Southern members of the EU played a rather marginal role in the development of both the EU initiatives aimed at the Baltic Sea region, that is, the Baltic Sea Region Initiative and the Northern Dimension. The main reason can be found in the lack of a political position and/or interest in matters related to an area, the Baltic Sea, which was never really considered a source of direct threats or security problems for the Southern members. In other words, one could argue that the ND case shows that there exists a substantial gap between the collective policy statements issued through the formal declarations, and the actual policy initiatives emerging from within the Council where the decision-making process is driven by one or at best a group of interested actors, while the others take only a marginal role in shaping the decision-making process.

2. The Nordics and their approaches to the presence of the EU in the area As mentioned above, when the Nordic countries began to shift their political attention and interest from the European Economic Area (EEA) project to

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full European Union membership in the early 1990s, the question of what kind of approach to develop in order to deal with the Northern ‘near abroad’ landed on the EU agenda for the first time. Also, at the regional level the prospects of EU enlargement gave rise to a kind of ‘soft’ and ‘constructive’ competition among the Nordic states and the prospective EU members – Norway, Sweden and Finland (Herolf 2000). For the Nordic countries, despite their cautious attitude towards the European integration process, taking a leading role in shaping the priorities for the Northern neighbourhood of an enlarging European Union meant the opportunity not only to maximize their influence and further their national interests within the EU, but also to play a role as privileged referents for Russia within the EU, or, to put it differently, to function as a political interface between the EU and Russia. 2.1 Denmark and Germany At the beginning of the 1990s Denmark was on paper the Nordic country that was best positioned to lead such a process. Nearly two decades of European Community (EC) membership, a good knowledge of the workings of the EU and the increasingly active stand that the country had taken towards the process of European integration following the fall of the Iron Curtain meant that Denmark was the EU member country ideally placed to lead the expansion of the EU presence in Northern Europe. The launch of the Council of the Baltic Sea States (CBSS) in the spring of 1992 should be seen as an attempt by Denmark to involve the EU, and in particular the Commission, in the Baltic Sea area. In the context of a more proactive attitude that the Danish government was showing generally towards European integration, the CBSS initiative became of particular political significance, since for the first time it brought the Commission, Russia, Germany, Poland, the three Baltic republics and the Nordic countries under the same co-operative umbrella (Petersen 1996; Joenniemi 1997).6 The Danish government did indeed appear to be the driving force behind the CBSS initiative, and the fact that the organization was launched after a bilateral meeting in Copenhagen supports that view. But closer analysis indicates that the idea of setting up the regional organization was not Danish but came instead from Germany, or more precisely from the government of Schleswig-Holstein, one of the German Länder. However, the German foreign minister of the time, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, was not in a position to launch such an initiative. At that point in time – in early 1992, 18 months after the reunification of Germany – a German initiative in the Baltic Sea area, with Russia as a partner, could easily have been misinterpreted at transatlantic level or, at best, could have sent the wrong signals at European level, reinforcing the fears of Southern members about a shift in the focus of the Union northwards.7 In this light, the Danish activism appears less ambitious in scope and seems to have been largely influenced by external determinants (i.e., Germany’s

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request not to appear as the main promoter of the initiative). Uffe Ellemann Jensen, the Danish foreign minister in the early 1990s, has been considered a key figure of those years. He contributed substantially both to the creation of the CBSS and, in a more general way, to the development of a more assertive stand by Denmark within the framework of the European integration process. However, the importance of his activism should not be overestimated, especially in the light of the role Germany played in connection with the launch of the initiative.8 The role played by Germany in Northern Europe seems in fact to be rather controversial. Both the launch of the CBSS, and, more recently, its active presidency of the EU in 1999 seem to go against the prevailing view that the Baltic Sea area has only a marginal position in Germany’s foreign policy agenda (Krohn 1998: 505).9 In late 1992 the Danish people unexpectedly rejected the ratification of the Maastricht Treaty. This dealt a decisive blow to Denmark’s ambitions to play a pivotal role in the Northern neighbourhood of the EU and led its political elite and foreign policy-makers to adopt a less assertive stance at both regional and EU level. There was a return, to a degree, to the pre1980s attitude, marked by a low profile and pragmatism. Such an attitude has characterized Denmark’s foreign policy in the context of the EU until now. A confirmation of such an attitude has come from the rather marginal role that the Danish government played in the Northern Dimension. In fact, throughout most of the policy-making process that led to the creation of the ND (1997–2001), the Danish government had been supportive of the positions of Finland and Sweden, the two pivotal actors in the process, within the EU Council but without being able to acquire a distinct profile of its own. 2.2 Sweden Sweden’s approach to the opportunity opened up by the enlargement of the EU to the North had some similarities with, but also many differences from, the approaches of the other Nordic countries. While in the case of Denmark and Norway – both members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) – it was the result of a referendum that de facto altered their foreign policies, in Sweden the change in foreign policy attitude came about as a consequence of a change in government. Especially after 1994 and the return to power of the Social Democrats, Sweden seemed to be less eager than Norway and Finland to carve out a political space – a role as an intermediary – between the EU and Russia. Some of this attitude has its roots in the Social Democrats’ understanding of the role of Sweden in Northern Europe, and in a more general way of their perception of Sweden’s place in the European security setting. The policy of non-alignment, maintained even after the fall of the communist bloc, had a major influence on Sweden’s vision of a neighbourhood policy. It was focused mainly on the management of regional

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‘soft’ security threats and centred on a pragmatic profile, devoid of any clear commitment or responsibility sharing – for instance, the obligations derived from collective defence – in broader or controversial security issues. Between 1991 and 1994, and in particular during the accession negotiations, the Conservative government of Carl Bildt developed a more dynamic position that led him in 1991 to call for a ‘Northern Dimension’ of the Common Foreign and Security Policy10 – a concept that seemed to entail a more proactive stand on key security issues and, in a more general way, a position aimed at gaining centrality within the framework of the European integration process. However, the focus of the Social Democratic government which came to power in 1994 was instead on the Baltic Sea area, and that was where the country wanted to redefine its post-Cold War identity. Sweden’s strategy was aimed at shaping the agenda of the EU in the Baltic Sea area and, in the same way as Norway had used the BEAC to involve the EU in the Far North, Sweden politically ‘adopted’ the CBSS (given Denmark’s lower profile after the referendum in 1992) as a tool for influencing the agenda of the EU in the region. In other words, the Swedish government was keener on having the EU as a complement to its national foreign policy towards the Baltic Sea area rather than as the main actor driving the dynamics of co-operation in the area. The results of Swedish efforts in Brussels to enhance the presence of the EU in the Baltic could be seen one year after Stockholm joined the EU, in 1996, when the European Commission launched the Baltic Sea Region Initiative (BSRI) at the CBSS’s first heads of government summit meeting. The fact that it was launched could be read as an attempt by the Swedish government, and in particular by Prime Minister Göran Persson, to profile Sweden – and himself – at both the regional and the EU level. The content of the proposal was particularly interesting in the framework of the EU’s overall approach towards the North as it highlighted for the first time some elements that were to emerge again in 1998 at the core of the Northern Dimension. In the context of the Northern Dimension, Sweden has played an important role since the initiative became part of the agenda of the EU. Stockholm has been successful, particularly during the Swedish Presidency, in shaping the initiative according to its own priorities, namely the following issues: environment; the fight against organized crime; and the Kaliningrad issue. The extent to which Sweden has been able to influence the development of the initiative can be measured by the actual changes in the dynamics that have characterized the process of development of the initiative. In particular, Sweden has been able to shift, on the one hand, the geographical focus of the initiative from the Barents Sea and the Arctic (Finnish priorities) to the Baltic area, Kaliningrad and the Northwest Russia. On the other hand, Stockholm has been able to grant a more central role to the regional organizations (CBSS in particular) in the process of implementation of the initiative.

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2.3 Finland Within the framework of the competitive dynamics described above, Finland’s role was rather marginal. Its low profile in the regional co-operative processes derived, on the one hand, from a different approach to the process of European integration and, on the other hand, from the centrality that relations with Russia had on its own foreign and security policy agenda. The Northern Dimension initiative, launched in September 1997, could be seen as a coup de théâtre in a regional setting which, after the launch of the BSRI in 1996, was finding its own political and institutional equilibrium. At the same time, however, it could also be argued that, unlike the BSRI, the Northern Dimension was an issue that could enhance Finland’s profile within the EU. In the Finnish domestic context two background elements deserve particular attention. The first is related to Finland’s reaction to the regional dynamics described above (Arter 2000). The second is linked to the emergence domestically of a notion of the Northern Dimension that identifies a gap affecting Finland’s foreign policy in the mid-1990s. The risk of being left without any distinct role to play in Europe’s North led the Finnish government to give substance to a concept – the Northern Dimension – that could re-launch its own interests and position within the regional setting. The Finnish notion of the Northern Dimension originated from the domestic context, but it had one element in common with the idea of a ‘Northern Dimension of the CFSP’ which Carl Bildt, then Swedish Prime Minister, mentioned in his Bonn speech in 1991. Bildt seemed to understand the CFSP as the primary instrument through which the foreign policy interests of the EU countries could be fostered. In the same way, the Finns interpreted the Northern Dimension as a tool with which to promote their own interests within the EU by fostering a convergence between national and EU foreign policy interests. If we look at the situation in terms of the regional co-operation that characterized Northern Europe immediately after the accession of Finland and Sweden to the EU in 1995, the Northern Dimension could be interpreted, first of all, as the Finnish response to the fear of possible marginalization in the ‘Western European club’, which Helsinki had recently joined (Arter 2000). This was due to the fact that, at the regional level, Finland was lagging behind its Nordic neighbours in terms of institutional ‘entrepreneurship’ (Mouritzen 1993: 389). In this context, the launch of the BSRI in 1996, within the framework of the (then Swedish-chaired) CBSS becomes significant, especially if we consider that the BSRI was the first initiative that originated from the European Commission – not the states of the area – and represented a substantial change in the attitude of Brussels which, until then, had kept a fairly neutral profile on the future actions to be taken in the area.

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In the Finnish domestic political debate the notion of the Northern Dimension, even before its launch at the EU level, was an umbrella concept that merged several bits of Finnish foreign and domestic interests, namely: (a) Nordic co-operation ‘as the closest circle of internationalization for Finland’; (b) Finland’s activities ‘in security policy and especially confidence building measures’; (c) Finland’s new Russia policy, established in 1992; (d) the multilateral co-operation in the Baltic Sea area; (e) the development of the (Finnish) High North; and (f) last but not least, Finland’s Arctic policy and in particular the Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy (AEPS) adopted in 1991.11 The ‘multilateralization’ of Finland’s relations with Russia coincided, on the one hand, with the country’s participation in the regional organizations in which Finland was involved (the CBSS and the BEAC) and, on the other hand, with the strengthening of relations between the EU and Russia. The issue of identification between Finland’s and the EU’s relations with Russia was repeatedly mentioned in speeches by key policy-makers. In particular, the questions of how to involve Russia more closely to the European integration process and, in a more general way, how to help Russia to link to the world economy were those most often addressed.12 The three geographical areas of strategic importance to Finland’s bilateral relations with Russia – North-West Russia, the Barents Sea area and the Baltic Sea area – had been kept somehow separate from each other during the early 1990s as a result of the different co-operative processes at the regional level. Efforts to ‘multilateralize’ relations with Russia were not therefore lacking at the regional level, but rather at the EU level. The lack of a comprehensive policy at the EU level dealing with relations with Russia opened up the possibility of bringing together these distinct geographical areas under the same policy umbrella within the framework of the EU. Finland, in other words, sought the chance to further its key security interests by attempting to shape first and foremost the EU agenda towards Russia, and to a lesser extent the agenda towards the other Northern neighbours of the EU. In this light the Northern Dimension initiative emerges as an umbrella concept through which the Finnish government created a substantial overlap, in the very early stages of the initiative and both during the Finnish Presidency of 1999 and the one of 2006, between its own foreign policy interests and the foreign policy priorities of the EU in the area. The Finnish strategy has been successful for two main reasons: first, because the Nordic countries have been involved in a constructive manner mainly by stressing the space for manoeuvre offered by the ND as a framework for furthering multiple sets of interests and priorities; secondly, because Finland has been able to create a substantial congruence between the Finnish position and those of the other non-Nordic members.

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3. The EU and the Baltic Sea region: convergence or congruence? As it has been shown above, the dynamics related to the presence of the EU in the Baltic Sea region has been characterized by a mixture of competitiveness among the Nordics vis-à-vis the opportunities emerged in conjunction with the two enlargement waves in 1995 and in 2004, and a pooled effort to increase the presence of the Union in the area. This is demonstrated clearly by the launch of the Baltic Sea Region Initiative (European Commission and Sweden) and the Northern Dimension (Finland). From what was discussed above the picture emerging is rather complex. The case of the Baltic Sea region represents an interesting example of how the foreign policy of the Union towards its Northern periphery is built upon a sort of collective ‘regional interest’ that is prevailing at the EU level over more distinct approaches and priorities at the regional level. One could argue that, despite a divergence of views among the Nordic members in the context of the regional institutional setting, a collective approach has been gaining ground and it is has been then projected and promoted at the EU level, in particular in the context of the EU Council of Ministers (and its working bodies) and of the European Council. An example of such an approach can be found in the co-ordinated efforts of the Nordic members and Germany to keep the Northern Dimension as an issue on the agenda of their Presidencies (Germany and Finland 1999, Sweden 2001, Denmark 2002) allowing, therefore, the initiative to reach, ‘only’ three years after it was included formally on the EU agenda in late 1998, the implementation phase (approval of the Action Plan during the Swedish Presidency) and that of the follow-up phase (during the Danish Presidency). As outlined above, the competitive approach of the mid-1990s has left space to a new and more ‘realist’ behaviour characterized by a prioritization of common objectives ‘as a group’ in the context of an enlarged EU. In essence, such policy objectives have pertained, on the one hand, the strengthening of the institutional and financial attention of the EU towards the Northern periphery and, on the other hand, the support at the EU level for the development of a regional approach towards the Baltic Sea region along inclusive lines. The role of the regional fora of co-operation in the Baltic Sea area in the development of a ‘regional set of interests’ should be given special attention. In fact, as demonstrated with the approval of the Northern Dimension Framework Document, such organizations (CBSS, BEAC, AC), together with the Nordic Council, from the position of outsiders in the early stages have been able to acquire an increased centrality in the context of the EU foreign policy-making process as actual key actors in identifying ‘needs for development and co-operation in their respective areas and support project

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implementation’13 of the priorities identified at the ND ministerial meetings. They have been successful also in acquiring a role as incubators of regional interests and, at the same time, they have managed to become a core element of the regional approach fostered at the EU level (collectively) by the eight EU members around the Baltic Sea. The case of the Baltic Sea region discussed in this chapter has also demonstrated that the CFSP and, more generally, those aspects of the EU’s foreign policy that pertain to the sphere of the neighbourhood policy, are to a great extent designed by regional (Baltic and Mediterranean) constellations of interests within the EU Council. The period between 1995 and 2004 has been characterized by the incremental capacity of the Nordic countries to identify the basis for collective Northern interests going beyond the mere attraction of new funding to the North or the defence of the existing balance of interests within the EU Council. It can be argued that the Nordic countries, Finland and Sweden in particular, have been able to influence the development of an inclusive approach to the neighbourhood policy of the EU through the Northern Dimension. In this context, the dichotomy convergence/congruence seems therefore to reflect effectively the dynamics that have characterized the Baltic Sea region. The key questions that are now open relate to how the dynamics of an EU at 27 will influence and affect the workings of the EU’s common foreign and security policy in the coming years. To what extent will the new EU members influence the interests and the priorities of the Northern members? Will they change the set of dynamics that have characterized the development of the policies towards the neighbourhood? The first elements that emerged after 2004 indicate that the capacity of the new members to influence the development of the neighbourhood policy of the EU has so far been difficult to assess or measure. On the other hand, the fact that eight members out of the 25 are actively involved in the Northern Dimension, and that the three Nordic and the three Baltic countries hold regular meetings in preparation of some of the EU Councils and European Councils, indicate clearly that these countries have the possibility to strengthen the role of the North in the EU Council and to foster further the convergence of their national interests in order to promote their collective regional priorities at the EU level.

Notes 1. The question of the borders is still an open issue. In 1997 a Russian–Lithuanian agreement was signed and, more recently, Latvia and Estonia signed a border agreement with Russia, mainly as a result of the enlargement process and of political pressure by the EU. However, to date, the agreements have not been ratified by the Russian parliament, the Duma. The slow pace of the ratification process has been, to a great extent, the result of concerns expressed both by the Duma and the Russian government about the alleged discriminations taking place

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2. 3. 4.

5.

6.

7. 8.

9. 10.

11.

12. 13.

in the Baltic countries against the Russian minority, particularly in Latvia and Estonia where there are about 400 000 and 790 000 Russian citizens respectively. This element emerged from an interview with Lars Gronbjerg, CBSS Secretariat, Stockholm, 2001. The European Commission took part in the workings of the organization since its launch in 1992. The EU was represented by the Finnish Presidency, the President of the European Commission and the High Representative for the CFSP. The documents were also signed by the Norwegian and Icelandic governments. See The Northern Dimension Policy Framework Document, and the Political Declaration on the Northern Dimension Policy, http://ec.europa.eu/comm/ external_relations/north_dim/doc/frame_pol_1106.pdf The members are Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Iceland, Latvia, Lithuania, Norway, Poland, Russia, Sweden and the European Commission. The organization has a permanent secretariat in Stockholm and is formally involved in the implementation of the ND. For more detailed information about its current activities see: http://www.cbss.st Author’s interviews with senior policy-makers at the European Commission and diplomats of the Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The CBSS was established in March 1992 when the Danish and German foreign ministers invited the foreign ministers of Estonia, Finland, Latvia, Lithuania, Norway, Poland, Russia and Sweden, and a member of the European Commission, to meet in Copenhagen in order to strengthen co-operation among the Baltic Sea states. See Archer 1999. C. Bildt, Schweden: vom zögernden zum begeisterten europär (Sweden: from hesitating to enthusiastic European partner), speech delivered at the Office of the European Commission in Bonn on 13 November 1991, document obtained directly at the Bonn Office of the Commission, 1991. In September 1989, at the initiative of the government of Finland, officials from the eight Arctic countries (Canada, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden, the USSR and the US) met in Rovaniemi, Finland, to discuss co-operative measures to protect the Arctic environment. They agreed to set up a regular meeting of ministers from the circumpolar countries responsible for Arctic environmental issues. The September 1989 meeting was followed by preparatory meetings in Yellowknife, Canada, in April 1990; Kiruna, Sweden, in January 1991; and Rovaniemi, Finland, in June 1991. The AEPS has dealt mainly with scientific research and protection measures towards the Arctic. Ahtisaari M., ‘The global role of the European Union’, speech at the Institute of International Affairs, Rome, 29 January 1997. See note 1.

13 The EU and Euro-Mediterranean Security: A New Departure? Sven Biscop

Introduction The Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) is the framework for relations between the EU and ten partner countries: Algeria, Egypt, Jordan, Israel, Lebanon, Morocco, Syria, Tunisia, Turkey and the Palestinian Authority.1 Its creation in 1995 was prompted by a strong plea from the EU’s southern member states, which demanded a greater European effort towards the Mediterranean in order to balance the EU’s external relations in view of its massive involvement in Central and Eastern Europe after the end of the Cold War. As the EU had become an exporter of stability on the European continent, this ‘Mediterranean lobby’ wanted it to assume a similar responsibility towards its Southern periphery. The EMP was a new departure. Whereas until then Euro-Mediterranean relations had been almost exclusively economic in focus, the Barcelona Declaration, the EMP’s founding document, envisaged a comprehensive partnership, modelled on the OSCE, comprising three baskets: political and security, economic and financial, and social and human. This represented a double innovation: for the first time, security and defence were included in the remit of Euro-Mediterranean relations, but as an integral part of a broad partnership. In 2003 this comprehensive approach formed the basis of the first common strategic document for the whole of EU external action, the European Security Strategy (ESS) (European Council 2003). This chapter aims to outline the fundamental characteristics of the comprehensive approach, to assess its implementation in the Mediterranean, and to look at the prospects for the future of Euro-Mediterranean relations. The argument is that the concept of comprehensive security as elaborated and tested in the context of the EMP helped to gradually forge a common European view that after the shock of the Iraq crisis ultimately led to the adoption of a general European strategy, representing a high degree of convergence between the member states on the basic 195

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underpinnings of foreign policy, including vis-à-vis the Mediterranean. The difficulty, however, lies in implementing this comprehensive approach, which demands a degree of co-ordination and integration of all dimensions of external action within member states and within the European institutions that has not yet been achieved.

1. A choice for comprehensive security The starting point of the comprehensive approach is the recognition of the interdependence between all dimensions of security – political, socioeconomic, cultural, ecologic, military – hence the need to formulate integrated policies on all of them (Biscop 2005). In the ESS, this approach is translated into the overall objective of ‘effective multilateralism’: ‘a stronger international society, well functioning international institutions and a rulebased international order’. At the global level the EU seeks to pursue this mainly through the UN. In its neighbourhood, the EU will itself assume a leading role in promoting ‘a ring of well governed countries to the East of the European Union and on the borders of the Mediterranean with whom we can enjoy close and co-operative relations’. ‘Even in an era of globalization, geography is still important’, the ESS points out; while the security issues arising in the vicinity of the EU are global phenomena that are not specific to this region, their potential effects on the EU can still be greater because of geographic proximity. The EU and its neighbourhood can be considered a ‘security complex’ (Buzan 1991): ‘a group of States whose primary security concerns link together sufficiently closely that their national securities cannot realistically be considered apart from one another’. It is but logical therefore that here the EU takes the lead, for a stable neighbourhood is a necessity for Europe’s own security. The same approach is to be followed at the global and regional levels: dialogue, co-operation and partnership in all fields of external action, putting to value the whole range of instruments at the disposal of the EU. In fact, the ESS really is more than a security strategy – it is a strategy for the whole of external action. This approach amounts to promoting effective global governance, which can be understood as a system that ensures access to the core public goods to which everybody is entitled. These global or universal public goods (GPG) can be summarized as: peace and security (‘freedom from fear’), an open and inclusive economic system (‘freedom from want’), political participation and an enforceable legal order, and social well-being (health, education, environment). At a certain level of inequality in terms of access to these core GPG, the resulting political instability and extremism, economic unpredictability and massive migration flows risk becoming uncontrollable. This gap between haves and have-nots therefore represents the ultimate systemic threat to international security. GPG are not explicitly mentioned in the ESS, but ‘spreading good governance, supporting

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social and political reform, dealing with corruption and abuse of power, establishing the rule of law and protecting human rights are the best means of strengthening the international order’. But partnership cannot be unconditional. States violating the norms of behaviour vis-à-vis the international community or their own population ‘should understand that there is a price to be paid, including in their relationship with the European Union’. Partnership with the EU can be cut back or enhanced according to performance. The use of force is not excluded, but implicitly the ESS considers it as an instrument of last resort, in principle to be applied only with a Security Council mandate. The ESS emphasizes positive objectives: GPG. ‘What for’ rather than ‘against whom’ is the question that determines policy. ‘Securitization’ of policy fields other than ESDP, i.e. treating issues as politico-military or ‘hard’ security problems and consequently applying politico-military instruments to them, is avoided. The politico-military is just one dimension of external action, at the same level as the other fields; issues should only be put in a politico-military or security perspective when they entail a threat of violence. Even though until December 2003 no formal strategic concept existed a distinctive European approach to security had already been emerging over recent years, in particular towards the EU’s neighbouring states, including the Mediterranean. Obviously there have been and will continue to be exceptions – in the Mediterranean the conclusion of an Association Agreement with Algeria regardless of ongoing violence was a case in point. Nevertheless comprehensive security has now been rubber-stamped as the European approach to security. In that sense, the ESS has confirmed the conceptual acquis of the EMP.

2. From confirmation to implementation Simply reaffirming the ‘spirit of Barcelona’ in the ESS is insufficient; the partnership is in need of revitalization. The ESS itself states that the Mediterranean generally continues to undergo serious problems of economic stagnation, social unrest and unresolved conflicts. The European Union’s interests require a continued engagement with Mediterranean partners, through more effective economic, security and cultural co-operation in the framework of the Barcelona Process. In a communication issued on the EMP’s tenth anniversary, the Commission confirmed this lack of progress (European Commission 2005). The new European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) offers an opportunity to achieve this objective. Its aim is to achieve ‘an area of shared prosperity

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and values’ by creating as close partnerships as possible without offering membership with the neighbouring States, which should lead to in-depth economic integration, close political and cultural relations and a joint responsibility for conflict prevention (European Commission 2003a). To that end, the EU is to offer very concrete ‘benefits’, basically a stake in the internal market, that is, freer movement of persons, goods, services and capital – ‘the four freedoms’. Through a process of ‘positive conditionality’ these benefits will be linked to political and economic reform. The ENP thus has a wide stabilizing and preventive scope with the ultimate objective of: • preventing conflicts in the EU’s neighbourhood and acts of aggression against the EU itself; • settling ongoing disputes and conflicts; • establishing close economic and political partnerships based on shared values, prosperity and security; • controlling migration and all forms of illegal trafficking into the EU; • protecting the security of EU citizens living abroad. The ENP does not aim to replace existing frameworks like the EMP, but to supplement and build on them. The idea is to strike a balance between bilateral Action Plans, so that benefits and benchmarks for progress can be tailored to specific needs and circumstances, in agreement with the individual partner countries, and multilateral partnerships like the EMP, in order to deal with regional issues and to promote regional integration. The latter is the key to mending the institutional unbalance within the EMP, which sees a closely integrated EU facing ten partner states that are only loosely involved in any kind of regional consultation. Among the first batch of Action Plans approved by the EU in December 2004 were those for Israel, the Palestinian Authority, Jordan, Morocco and Tunisia (next to those for Ukraine and Moldova). True to the ‘tailor-made principle’, these Action Plans reflect the differences in their state of development and their willingness to reform and deepen relations with the EU. In the field of democratization, for instance, objectives are decidedly more ambitious, and more concrete, in the Action Plans for Jordan and the Palestinian Authority than in those for Morocco and Tunisia. The Action Plans have to be approved by the joint bilateral bodies established under the existing bilateral Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements, which will be responsible for advancing and monitoring their implementation. The Commission will draw up periodic reports on progress. The next step, if Action Plan priorities are met, could be the conclusion of European Neighbourhood Agreements to replace the current Association Agreements. The Action Plans are not very operational however: they remain vague on which kinds of reform will be rewarded by which specific additional aid. The degree

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to which they are ‘tailor-made’ should not be overstated either: they do not allow distinguishing between the main obstacles to reform in the different states (Youngs 2005: 6). Actually most of the measures proposed in the ENP framework are already among the objectives of the EMP. This holds true for both substance and progress. In the Barcelona Declaration partners already agreed to create ‘an area of shared prosperity’, to be based on ‘the progressive establishment of a free trade area’, economic co-operation and ‘a substantial increase in the EU’s financial assistance to its partners’. The EMP already comprises a mix of multilateral regional activities and bilateral Association Agreements. The ENP’s emphasis on the bilateral Action Plans should not lead to a dilution of the multilateral dimension (Johansson-Nogués 2004b: 244). There has certainly never been a lack of ideas to advance the EMP – it is their implementation that has been problematic. That reform has not advanced much further in the Arab states in the EMP than in those outside it, i.e. in the Gulf, highlights the Partnership’s limitations (Youngs 2005: 10). There is a lack of ‘cross-pillar’ functioning in the EMP: each basket is run in a more or less autonomous way. The Association Agreements include provisions on political dialogue, human rights, rule of law, and so on, but these have remained very general, and even then have never been invoked. The regulations on the MEDA Programme, the financial instrument of EU Mediterranean policy, link economic support to the promotion of human rights, fundamental freedoms and good-neighbourly relations, but in practice conditionality has been very limited if not non-existent (Lannon et al. 2001; Schmid 2003). The EU’s uncritical response to the Tunisian President Bin Ali’s 96 per cent election victory in October 2004 can serve as an example (Youngs 2005: 3). Not unimportantly, regimes have adopted the discourse of democracy, but tangible results are very limited. As a result the comprehensive approach, which in theory links all the dimensions of Euro-Mediterranean relations together, has been insufficiently translated into practice. The impression created is that the EU prefers stability over democratization and reform. On the other hand, for positive conditionality to be effective, a real ‘carrot’ should be offered. Currently, it seems as if the Mediterranean partners are suffering all the hardships entailed by the economic reforms necessitated by the projected free trade area, but without gaining many effective benefits. The most sensitive area in this regard is the EU’s agricultural policy, the protectionist character of which produces major negative effects for its Southern partners – not to mention for the EU budget. In the textile sector as well, limits have been imposed; real free trade applies only to oil, gas and industrial products. In this regard, internal European divisions render progress very difficult. Also, the level of foreign direct investment from the EU has not significantly increased. It has been argued that the result of these half-hearted policies has actually been a worsening of socio-economic conditions (Tanner 2004). For this to be mended, a substantial effort is needed on

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the part of the EU. Today, the predominant feeling in the South seems to be resentment of an EU that imposes difficult reforms but is perceived as not living up to its side of the bargain. It should not be forgotten though that bad management by local authorities, including excessive defence expenditure, and obstacles posed by traditional structures have equally contributed to the worsening of the economic situation, as was forcibly demonstrated by the Arab Human Development Reports. To the extent that local elites manage to control how the resources made available by the EU are applied, these can be made to reinforce the political and economic status quo rather than induce reform (Volpi 2004: 149).

3. Re-launching the EMP With regard to the Mediterranean, the real added value of the ENP is not in the substance of the measures, nor in the working methods. Care should instead be taken to preserve the EMP acquis so as not to lose its rich and varied approach to the many dimensions of Euro-Mediterranean relations (Ortega 2003). What the ENP does offer is an opportunity to re-launch the EMP. To fully grasp that opportunity the EU will have to address a number of major remaining challenges. First, the member states will have to muster the political will to invest sufficient means and offer real benefits (Wallace 2003). Even if membership is not on offer – except for Turkey – other, ‘silver’ carrots can be devised (Missiroli 2004). Opening up to agricultural exports, subsidizing major infrastructure projects and free movement of persons can be powerful incentives (Youngs 2005: 5). To be credible, these benefits ought to be formulated in a sufficiently concrete way. In the longer term perhaps a ‘Marshall Plan’ for the Mediterranean could be the next grand project of the EU after enlargement, a major scheme as the only way to durably improve socio-economic conditions on the southern shore (Ortega 2003). Secondly, allocation of these benefits should truly be conditional on the implementation of political reform if progress is to be achieved within the – per definition non-coercive – partnership approach. According to Youngs (2004), ‘The European approach might be likened to a desired “third way” between regime change and undimmed support for autocrats; one focused on gradual, step-by-step political reform’ – but this cannot work without effective conditionality. This requires the definition of clear benchmarks, in order to measure progress, as part of a phased and dynamic process of reform and reward, including a timetable. The ENP Action Plans should thus be supplemented by a true roadmap for reform. In the political field respect for basic human rights and the rule of law must be the minimum condition to be fulfilled, a step that need not directly affect the current regimes’ power base, before moving on to gradual but effective democratization. If it does not become more operational EU policy will not be able to escape the situation described by Youngs (2004):

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European democracy policy resembles a man trying to learn to swim without letting go of the riverbank: keen to reach the deep, rewarding waters of political transformation but reluctant to let go of the supportive engagement built up with Middle Eastern regimes. Thirdly, the EU must address the question of with whom to co-operate. With the regimes? With reformist actors in civil society? With moderate Islamists? Islamist actors are the backbone of civil society (Aliboni 2004; Fuller 2004; Volpi 2004) and can hardly be ignored – if in Europe Christiandemocracy is an acceptable political current, then certainly ‘Muslimdemocracy’ should be equally acceptable. This requires careful mapping of the political and civil society landscape. The EU must also avoid that its reformist partners have to face imprisonment or other forms of harassment by the regimes. An inclusive policy allowing the input of local actors to be taken fully into account seems to have the largest chance of success. The question of co-operation with democratic Islamists was finally raised by the Commission on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the EMP (European Commission 2005). Perhaps the basic question is: how far does the EU aim to go? What is the ENP’s ultimate objective? If, eventually, full democratization is the aim, are the partnership approach and EU instruments, i.e. the financial-economic ‘carrot’, sufficient? As Youngs (2005: 5) notes, even the states that are most desirous of economic integration, such as Tunisia, ‘show few signs of willing to trade this against improvements in human rights’. Is the EU willing to cope with the potential instability and with the Islamist victories that elections might bring? Or will the EU be satisfied with a certain minimum level of respect for human rights, with a modus vivendi that is reconcilable with European consciences and the rhetoric of democratization as well as the aims of the regimes? But is that really an option – would it not be contradictory to the fundamental philosophy of the comprehensive approach to consciously ignore part of the gap in access to the basic GPGs that lies at the root of instability and frustration in the region? Without a substantial effort the ENP will suffer the same fate as the EMP: well-intentioned principles, but very limited implementation. Promises only of the proverbial carrot and mere declarations about democracy will be insufficient, for they have been made too often already.

4. The politico-military dimension Even though no direct ‘hard’ security threats to the EU emanate from the Mediterranean, the EMP and the ENP cannot do without a politico-military dimension as a necessary component of a comprehensive approach. On the one hand, politico-military co-operation is an aspect of the long-term stabilization and conflict prevention that the comprehensive approach aims

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for: exchange of information and liaison officers, observing exercises, joint manoeuvres and eventually joint operations, arms control, non-proliferation and disarmament all increase mutual trust, both in North–South and South–South relations. Secondly, in the event of crises that may require military intervention, involving the threat or use of force or not, established politico-military co-operation provides a much more effective framework for consultation and, preferably, joint action than ad hoc arrangements or unilateral initiatives on the part of the EU or one or more of the Mediterranean partners. It could be argued that the successful implementation of the ENP will further increase EU entanglement with its neighbouring countries and thus also the need to act in case of crisis (Aliboni 2005). As ESDP continues to develop, the EU becomes an ever more capable actor in this field. However, in the already difficult context of the EMP, the politico-military dimension has certainly been the most difficult to give substance to. Proposals to enhance the security dimension of the EMP are abundant (Biscop 2003). In its 2000 Common Strategy on the Mediterranean Region the EU already stated its intention ‘to make use of the evolving common European policy on security and defence to consider how to strengthen, together with its Med partners, co-operative security in the region’. From the beginning, however, all efforts to add substance to this dimension have failed in the face of the Mediterranean partners’ unwillingness. Consequently political dialogue has remained at a low level and only a few partnership measures have been implemented: a network of contact points for political and security matters; training seminars for diplomats; the EuroMeSCo network of foreign policy institutes; a register of bilateral agreements among partner countries; exchange of information on partner countries’ adherence to international conventions on terrorism, human rights, arms control and disarmament, armed conflict and international law; and a pilot project on natural and man-made disasters. These measures are limited in number and scope: they are mainly declaratory and deal with neither military co-operation nor crisis management. Measures regarding arms control, disarmament or nonproliferation are conspicuously absent, even though these are among the region’s most important ‘hard’ security issues. The Valencia Action Plan adopted by the fifth Euro-Mediterranean Conference (22–23 April, 2002), an important attempt to define concrete actions to further the EMP, called for ‘effective dialogue on political and security matters, including on the ESDP’. Subsequently, on 19 March, 2003 the Council endorsed a set of proposals aiming to open up ESDP to the Mediterranean partners. An enhanced dialogue has been created, including meetings between the troika of the Political and Security Committee (PSC) and the Brussels heads of mission of the Mediterranean partners once each Presidency, as well as meetings at expert level; partners can also establish contact with the Secretariat General of the Council and with the Commission. Flexibility has been introduced – partners can themselves decide on the scope

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and intensity of their participation – and progressiveness. The initial aim is to familiarize partners with ESDP objectives and procedures. In a mid-term perspective partners that are willing can be invited to observe manoeuvres, to appoint liaison officers to the EU Military Staff and to participate in EU training courses. This gradual process should pave the road to participation in EU-led crisis management operations, to which the Council can invite partners on a case-by-case basis.2 In spite of this offer on the part of the EU, partner countries have remained extremely reluctant, however. Foremost in explaining this is the Middle East conflict, the main stumbling-block for an enhanced security partnership between both shores of the Mediterranean. One cannot expect partners to engage in far-reaching security co-operation when they are divided on the question of an armed conflict that clouds the whole region, and when, moreover, a number of them criticize EU policy on the issue for being too passive. Furthermore, authoritarian regimes abuse the conflict as a ground of legitimacy. Significant steps towards a resolution of the conflict are a prerequisite for a security partnership to really progress. Since EU enlargement on 1 May, 2004 the importance of the Middle East conflict for the EMP has become even more pronounced, for with the accession of Cyprus and Malta, and with Turkey having a special status as a candidate member and NATO ally, the partners comprise only the Mediterranean Arab countries and Israel (Tanner 2004: 140). The ESS stresses that resolution of the Arab – Israeli conflict is a ‘strategic priority’, for indeed ‘without this, there will be little chance of dealing with other problems’. Reaching a ‘permanent two-state solution’ is listed among the topics for political dialogue and co-operation in the Action Plans with Israel and the Palestinian Authority, but it is doubtful whether this will be translated into operational objectives and benchmarks – until now, the EU has never been willing to utilize the economic instrument to press the parties in the conflict, in spite of its enormous potential, at least if put to use in conjunction with a similar US initiative. The dissatisfaction with the EU’s limited investment in the financial and economic chapter is a second reason. It is often felt that the EU puts undue emphasis on the security aspects of the EMP, to the detriment of the economic basket which the Mediterranean partners consider to be the field for priority action. Thirdly, there is distrust with regard to ESDP itself. With Iraq and Kosovo in mind there is a fear of ‘Western interventionism’. In the mid-1990s the formation of two multinational military units, EUROFOR and EUROMARFOR, by the EU’s southern member states was already viewed with considerable suspicion. States on the southern shore of the Mediterranean considered the units to be mainly directed against them. In view of the initial absence of a strategic concept, it was easy to see the development of ESDP in a similar light. It is not difficult to imagine how the debate on ‘pre-emption’ can fuel this fear of ‘interventionism’. Research shows, however, that more important than

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actual distrust is a generalized lack of information about ESDP – which can of course easily be abused to create distrust. This lack of information either leads to scepticism regarding the ability of the EU to become an effective international security actor or, quite the opposite, to unrealistically high expectations regarding a potential EU role in the Middle East conflict. There are positive views of ESDP also, however, because its development is seen as evidence of multilateralism and as a way of balancing the US (Jünemann 2003; de Vasconcelos 2004). These positive sentiments must be built upon. The large-scale development of European forces in Lebanon in the autumn of 2006, even if under UN rather than EU command, has certainly reinforced the EU’s credibility, as has the deployment of an EU border assistance mission on the Gaza–Egypt border in Rafah. Fourthly, on a more fundamental level, in the partner countries there is limited interest in the Mediterranean as an organizing concept of policy. The EMP is mostly seen as a way of addressing bilateral relations with the EU; regional dynamics and South–South regional integration between the Mediterranean partners receive far less attention. From the perspective of the EU, its southern neighbourhood constitutes an obvious grouping, but for the partner countries ‘Mediterranean security in itself does not seem to have an autonomous raison d’être’ (Soltan 2004), hence their lack of enthusiasm for multilateral security co-operation at the regional level. The ENP’s emphasis on bilateral relations might increase this tendency (Del Sarto and Schumacher 2005). It should also be acknowledged that Mediterranean partners are less familiar with notions such as comprehensive security and confidence and security-building measures. Finally, it must not be ignored that, with regard to those partner states that have authoritarian forms of government and where the armed forces play an important part in politics, politico-military co-operation with the EU is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it could serve to enhance the status of the current regime – which may in some cases run counter to EU objectives in the field of democratization, human rights and the rule of law. On the other hand, co-operation that is conditional upon reform in precisely those fields would undermine the position of these regimes, which explains why they are not very forthcoming. Furthermore, large parts of public opinion are often not in favour of security co-operation with ‘the West’, which again would have negative consequences for the regimes’ internal power base.

5. Enhancing the politico-military dimension: an incremental process Obviously, in view of the reluctance of the Mediterranean partners, enhancing the politico-military dimension of the EMP cannot but be a very incremental process. Effectively establishing contact points with the ESDP bodies, a deepened dialogue and exploring the possibilities for actual participation

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in ESDP exercises and operations are mentioned in the Action Plans for Israel, Jordan, Morocco and Tunisia. This seems to indicate that politico-military co-operation is more acceptable if part of a wider, comprehensive framework. Since November 2004 the dialogue on ESDP has been fully integrated in the EMP bodies rather than taking place separately with the heads of mission in Brussels. In the framework of the Action Plans, politico-military co-operation could thus also be promoted through ‘positive conditionality’. This increased willingness may also be related to a quest for support in view of the international context, in which terrorism and proliferation – particularly with regard to Iran – continue to be high on the agenda, as well as the fear for the potential spill-over effects of the conflict in Iraq – all of them issues with which the southern states are most directly confronted. In fact, the framework of the Action Plans is absolutely necessary to preserve the comprehensive nature of the approach, i.e. to maintain the link between politico-military co-operation, political reform and economic support. In the absence of conditionality, politico-military co-operation may be counter-productive for democratization, respect for human rights and the rule of law. Security sector reform should be among the explicit objectives of the EU, especially in the context of the fight against terrorism, the label of which is all too easily abused to silence legitimate opposition. The Commission (2003b) issued a warning to that effect: A tension between internal security concerns and the promotion and protection of human rights can result in negative consequences in human rights terms, particularly apparent under the umbrella of the ‘war on terror’. To what extent the Action Plans will succeed in giving substance to the politico-military dimension remains to be seen. The EU could consider accompanying initiatives to enhance the chance of success. First, the EU could step up its efforts to communicate information on the aims and nature of ESDP. The absence of a strategic concept was an important cause of suspicion. Now that the ESS has filled this strategic vacuum, it should be publicized much more than it is. Even within the EU the ESS is little known outside the small circles of policy-makers and experts. The EU could consider an outreach exercise, not only in the limited framework of the EMP dialogue on ESDP, but also to academia, journalists and NGOs in the partner countries. The EuroMeSCo network could play an important role in this regard. Perhaps at a later stage this could lead to a truly joint reflection on the specifics of the Mediterranean region, along the same lines as the ESS – the challenges posed by the security environment, the objectives, and their policy implications – in order to arrive at a common document at the regional level, like the bilateral Action Plans, which could establish guidelines for co-operation and serve as a framework for an enhanced

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security partnership similar to the way the ESS does – or should – for EU external action. By tackling it from this new angle, the debate on the EuroMediterranean Charter for Peace and Stability, which has been moribund ever since it was decided at the 1999 Stuttgart Ministerial to postpone its adoption until ‘political circumstances allow’, could be given new impetus, even if not in the short term. Secondly, the EU need not wait for the dialogue on ESDP to have advanced further to invite partner countries to participate in its operations. The takeover of SFOR by EU Operation Althea in 2004 presents an excellent opportunity for the EU to invite its Mediterranean partners, for a number of them have already taken part in NATO operations in the Balkans. Morocco, which in the first half of 2004 had 350 troops in SFOR and a field battalion in Kosovo (KFOR), participated in Althea from the start. Egypt and Jordan too have in the past taken part in IFOR, SFOR’s predecessor, while the latter has also participated in KFOR. For these countries at least taking part in an EU operation using NATO assets, i.e. in a very similar framework, on familiar terrain, ought to be politically feasible. The EU and NATO could very well take a joint initiative to put the proposal to all the states involved in NATO’s Mediterranean Dialogue – Algeria, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Mauritania, Morocco and Tunisia – and to the other Mediterranean partners of the EU. Taking part in an actual EU operation and witnessing ESDP functioning in the field should go a long way to improving the credibility of the EU. Participation would of course be on a voluntary basis, open at all times to the Mediterranean partners that are willing. As Ministers noted at the Naples Euro-Mediterranean Conference (2–3 December, 2003), ‘some of the Mediterranean partners already work with the EU in peace-keeping activities (Balkans, Africa) under the UN aegis’. For example, in 2004 Algeria, Egypt, Jordan, Morocco and Tunisia all contributed to MONUC, the UN mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo. On the EU side in that same period Sweden was present with a military contingent, while Belgium, the Czech Republic, Denmark, France, Ireland, Poland, Portugal, Sweden, Spain and the UK contributed observers and/or police. From June to September 2003 the EU at the request of the UN also implemented an operation of its own, ‘Artemis’, to secure the area around the city of Bunia in the Eastern province of Ituri. Such common participation in a UN operation could be the subject of a fruitful exchange in the framework of the EMP dialogue on ESDP, on lessons learned, best practices, and so on. It could also lay the foundations for involvement of Mediterranean partners in future EU operations, in Africa for example, particularly operations at the request of the UN. Would an intervention in crises such as that in the Darfur region of Sudan, that is, if the international community could muster the necessary political will, not lend itself to Euro-Mediterranean co-operation? As the EU gradually takes on a more ‘expeditionary’ role, taking on more responsibility for international peace and security and implementing the ESS, those Mediterranean partners that are willing could easily be involved.

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These very concrete steps would all contribute to increasing confidence between both sides of the Mediterranean and to enhancing the credibility of the EU as an international actor, thus preparing the ground for a deepening and institutionalization of the security dimension of the EMP in the longer term. Further-reaching steps can then be imagined, which should take into account the need for a strong multilateral dimension, as an important South– South confidence-building measure: • Standard procedures for joint crisis management in the event of crises in the EMP area, to allow for joint decision-making and action; taking into account partners’ sensitivities, it is preferable to provide at least for automatic consultation whenever the EU considers an intervention in the region; an automatic invitation to participate in any EU operations in the Mediterranean could perhaps follow at a later stage. • A Euro-Mediterranean situation centre, to collect and analyse data – provided on a regular basis by partners on both sides of the Mediterranean – on a number of agreed items, and to monitor developments with crisis potential (Calleya 2002). • Multinational forces including contingents from the Mediterranean partners, e.g. on the basis of EUROFOR and EUROMARFOR. • Joint action on landmines and air/sea search and rescue. • A wide range of confidence and security-building measures, e.g. prior notification of major manoeuvres, participation in the UN system of standardized reporting of military expenditure, an encyclopaedia of terminology on security. Finally, and more generally, in the longer term an update of the Common Strategy on the Mediterranean Region can be considered. A concise new text, along the lines of the ESS but also more precise, to be elaborated in much closer consultation with the Mediterranean partners than the current document, could summarize the new approach, based on the ESS, the ENP and the joint reflection on security proposed above, and translate this into operational objectives.

Conclusion The comprehensive approach to external relations as expressed in the ESS constitutes a major conceptual acquis of the EU. Although the ESS is not equally outspoken or detailed on every single issue, it does contain a number of strategic policy choices, which can be seen as an indication of a high degree of convergence between the member states on the core issues of external relations. A distinctive European approach emphasizing structural prevention through a broad range of instruments has emerged, which clearly differs from, for example, the National Security Strategy of the US, which

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puts more emphasis on short-term action and the military instrument; whereas the latter strategy is threat-based, the ESS has a much more positive tone to it. As the ESS is founded, inter alia, on the conceptual underpinnings of the EMP, this convergence extends to the basic principles of the EU’s Mediterranean policy. No major policy differences seem to exist and the EMP is integrated in the programme of every EU presidency – rather the degree of interest for the region differs greatly between member states, which results in a varying degree of activity of each successive presidency. The implementation of the comprehensive approach on the ground, however, has proved very cumbersome and results have indeed been disappointing. First and foremost this is due to obstacles that are inherent to the region. There is also a need for more co-ordination, not only between member states, but also within each member state and within the European institutions, between the different dimensions of external action covered by the EMP, in order to implement a truly integrated policy. But the lack of progress is also partly due to differences between the EU member states on measures needed to translate the principles of the EMP into practice, notably with regard to the liberalization of the agriculture and textile sectors and the free movement of people. These differences are not so much related to the specifics of the EU’s Mediterranean or neighbourhood policies, but are linked to different internal divisions running through the EU (e.g. on the Common Agricultural Policy), to domestic politics (e.g. the sensitivity of the migration issue), and to the willingness of the member states in general to make available the necessary financial means for EU external action. Finally, on a number of issues the policy debate has yet to start and choices have yet to be made. This concerns issues related to the means of operationalizing the strategic choices of the ESS, for example in the field of democratization. In order to realize the potential of the ESS, the EMP and the ENP, the EU will thus have to elaborate the existing policy consensus and make the necessary choices. The Commission’s recommendations issued on the occasion of the tenth anniversary address all of the relevant issues (European Commission 2005). Now it is up to the member states to take action: otherwise, the well-intentioned strategies will remain without effect in the real world of the Euro-Mediterranean area.

Notes 1. Until their accession to the EU in 2004 Cyprus and Malta were Mediterranean partners too; as a candidate country, Turkey too will eventually move to the other side of the table. Libya has been invited to join the EMP on the condition that it accepts the acquis. 2. The situation is different for Turkey: like all non-EU European members of NATO, it is already involved in a close dialogue on ESDP, is automatically invited to participate in all EU operations using NATO assets and can be invited to EU-only operations on a case-by-case basis.

14 The Making of the EU’s Strategy Towards Asia Nicola Casarini

Asia accounts today for nearly 60 per cent of world population, for more than one-third of world output and almost 50 per cent of economic growth since 2000. Its share of global trade has increased from 11 per cent to 26 per cent between 1960 and 2005. Since the early 1990s Asian countries have become increasingly significant for Europe’s welfare. Asia as a whole is currently the EU’s largest regional trading partner and one of the major outlets for European goods and investments. In a context of global interdependence the prosperity of Europe could be jeopardized, more than ever, by economic and/or political instability in the Asian region. From this linkage stems the interest of the EU and its member states in enhancing relations with the thriving Asian economies. This chapter investigates the following: is there an EU strategy towards Asia? What is its nature and what are its characteristics? And have EU member states converged towards shared notions of Europe’s role and interests in Asia? These questions can be answered by analysing the main policy initiatives adopted by the EU and its member states towards Asian countries since the end of the Cold War. The aim is to assess whether and to what extent (and on which issues) EU members have been capable of producing a collective policy towards Asia, expression of a unitary political strategy and of shared notions of European interests vis-à-vis that region. This chapter focuses in particular on the EU’s New Asia Strategy (NAS) and the Asia–Europe Meeting (ASEM), the two main initiatives through which the EU and its member states have engaged Asian countries since the end of the Cold War. After an examination of the development of the EU’s Asia strategy since the early 1990s, we will move to a closer examination of the economic dimension, which remains the backbone of EU–Asia relations. We will then assess recent developments of the EU’s Asia policy by focusing on security-strategic issues and on Europe’s growing involvement in Asian security affairs. At the 209

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end we will draw some conclusions on whether there has been convergence – and to what extent – in member states’ foreign policies towards Asia.

1. The development of the EU’s New Asia Strategy In 1993 Germany became the first EU member state to elaborate a strategy towards Asia. In the Asien Konzept der Bundesregierung, the German government outlined the new significance of the Asian markets for Europe. This had become evident since 1992 when the EU trade with Asia overtook EU– US trade for the first time. The German concept paper stated that Germany – and Europe as a whole – had to face the challenge of an economically thriving Asia and ‘strengthen economic relations with the largest growth region in the world’ (Government of the Federal Republic of Germany 1994: 2). The view was held in Bonn that Germany’s economic interests would increasingly depend on the ability of German companies to enter into Asian markets. Because of the sheer magnitude of Asia, it was felt that the Federal Republic had necessarily to work through the EU in order to increase its political and economic leverage vis-à-vis the region. Moreover, the German document acknowledged Asia’s increasing economic and political assertiveness. As a consequence Bonn pointed out the need for Germany – and the EU – to engage Asian countries in a more constructive way and step up high-level visits to the region. While the United Kingdom (UK) and France had been traditionally known for their ‘leaning’ towards Asia resulting from their past involvement in the region, this German interest was something of a novelty. Following up on Germany other EU members started to give Asia a higher priority. For instance, the French Minister for Industry, Gérard Longuet, while visiting Beijing and Hong Kong in 1994, launched a new French strategy called Ten Initiatives for Asia. Furthermore, France’s Foreign Minister, Hervé de la Charette, announced in 1995 that Asia would receive special attention as the nouvelle frontière of French diplomacy. In the same period, the UK, Italy, and the Netherlands also started to prioritize the development of economic relations with Asian countries. Concurrent with initiatives by individual EU member states, in 1994 the European Commission released its Communication EU’s New Asia Strategy (NAS). The document outlined the following objectives for the Union: (i) strengthen the Union’s economic presence in Asia; (ii) contribute to stability in Asia; (iii) promote the economic development of the less prosperous countries and regions in Asia; (iv) contribute to the development and consolidation of democracy and the rule of law, and respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms in Asia (European Commission 1994: 2). The overall strategy of the EU’s policy in Asia is related to economic matters which, according to the Commission, need to be presented ‘in the framework of the political and security balance of power in the region’ (European Commission 1994: 4). But, what does Asia mean for the EU? The 1994 Commission’s

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paper covers 26 countries grouped according to three geographic regions: the eight countries and economies of East Asia (China, Japan, North and South Korea, Mongolia, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macao); the ten countries of South-East Asia (Brunei, Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, and Burma/Myanmar); and the eight countries of South Asia (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bhutan, Maldives and Afghanistan). The rationale that the Commission gives for the EU’s new engagement towards this vast and complex region is very clear: ‘To keep Europe in its major role on the world stage it is imperative to take account of the emergence of these new Asian powers    It is therefore essential that the Union develops the capacity to play its proper role in the region’ (European Commission 1994: 6). The aim of the NAS is to place the EU member states’ relationships with Asian countries into a single integrated framework. Given Asia’s size and weight the Commission calls for ‘enhanced co-ordination between the Union and its member states in order to achieve critical mass and the desired impact’ (European Commission 1994: 5). Moreover, the NAS clearly points out that the Union needs as a matter of urgency to adopt more pro-active strategies towards Asia. The further upgrading of EU–Asia relations came into being in 1996 with the establishment of an institutional mechanism: the Asia–Europe Meeting (ASEM).

2. The Asia–Europe Meeting With the establishment of ASEM in 1996 the EU clearly indicated that the priority was the development of relations with the economically thriving East Asian countries. Since its inception ASEM has become the most important interregional forum for discussion and co-operation between the EU and East Asia. The first ASEM summit took place in Bangkok in 1996 with the participation of 25 countries: on the European side, the 15 EU member states (plus the Presidency of the European Commission); on the East Asian side, ten countries: Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Philippines, Indonesia, Brunei, and Vietnam (ASEAN 7) plus China, Japan and South Korea (i.e. the so-called ASEAN + 3). As a result of the enlargement of the EU in May 2004 the ASEM 5 summit in Hanoi in October 2004 decided to enlarge ASEM to the ten new EU member states, as well as three new ASEAN countries (Cambodia, Laos and Burma/Myanmar) that were not yet part of the process. As stated in the conclusions of the General Affairs and External Relations Council (GAERC) of 13 September, 2004 the participation of Burma/Myanmar was accepted with the expectation that the participation of the Burmese government at the ASEM summits would be lower than head of state/government level. The ASEM paramount objective has always been the enhancement of economic exchanges between the two regions. In 2005 the ASEM countries

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accounted for 43 per cent of global trade and produced 52 per cent of global output.1 With regard to the political dimension, since the first ASEM summit in 1996, there have been Summit-level (head of state/government) meetings every second year, foreign ministers’ meetings in the intervening years, annual or biannual sectoral ministerial meetings plus a range of meetings and activities at the working level. The ASEM process includes three main pillars: political, economic-financial, and cultural-intellectual. In the political field the areas under discussion include the fight against terrorism, the management of migratory flows, human rights, global environment challenges, and the impact of globalization. In the economic and financial field the areas of common concern are related to co-operation on reducing barriers to trade and investment, on financial and social policy reform, and on issues relating to the World Trade Organization (WTO). In the cultural and intellectual field, the ASEM process aims to foster the development of a dialogue of cultures and civilizations based on a wide range of enhanced contacts and dialogue between the two regions, and co-operation in the field of culture and higher education. At the more strategic level the ASEM process aims to bridge the gap between the EU and East Asia. At the time of the first ASEM in 1996 North America and East Asia had established an institutional mechanism – the Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC) – for deepening interregional co-operation and North America and the EU had adopted a New Transatlantic Agenda. In this context it was perceived that there was a glaring missing link as far as the relationship between the EU and East Asia was concerned and that the ASEM process would serve to furnish this missing link in the triangular relationship: North America–EU–East Asia. The establishment of the Asia–Europe Meeting is the result of the realization of the economic importance of East Asia and the weaknesses of EU involvement in the region. For both sides ASEM is an occasion to send a message to the United States. ASEM allows Europe to avoid the risk of being isolated by too close a collaboration among the Asia-Pacific countries and it also gives East Asia the opportunity to counter-balance the US presence by opening up to EU’s economic interests (Casarini 2001: 52). Furthermore, ASEM has acknowledged the de facto diplomatic existence of the East Asian Economic Caucus (EAEC) proposed by Malaysian Prime Minister Mohammad Mahathir in 1990 and strongly opposed by the US because it is meant to exclude non-Asian powers. Launched in 1990 as East Asian Economic Grouping (EAEG), it was envisaged as a Japanese-led counterweight to the perceived emergence of trade blocs in Europe and North America. Because of strong resistance in the US it has remained a concept far from formal implementation. Therefore, it is noteworthy that East Asian countries have begun to act as a de facto group in the interregional ASEM framework. In the end, ASEM has upgraded the international status of East Asia. While the US continues to oppose East Asian countries’ plan to appear

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as a regional grouping vis-à-vis North America in APEC, the EU has recognized the East Asian grouping by acknowledging that these same states represent ‘Asia’ in ASEM. From an Asian perspective the goal is not only to have East Asia recognized as the third pole of the world economy, ASEM is also seen as an opportunity to reassert a sense of equality between Europe and Asia against an historical background tainted by colonial relationships and a more recent history of donor–recipient ties. The principle of a ‘dialogue on an equal basis’ has been reiterated at all ASEM summits.2 From an international political economy perspective ASEM is based on the underlying assumption that an economics-driven tri-polar international order has emerged in the aftermath of the end of the Cold War. In other words, a new tri-polar system based on the three major regions of the world economy – the Triad – has come to substitute the Cold War bi-polarism between the United States and the Soviet Union (Casarini 2001: 28). Traditionally the concept of the Triad entailed the notion of the trilateral relationship between the US, Europe and Japan. At the onset of the 1990s some European observers hoped for the formation of an effective European– Japanese–American trilateral, global concert system (Winstein and Leuenberger 1992: 3). By the mid-1990s, however, the perception of the US–EU– Japan triad as the basic configuration of the new world economic order had lost much of its appeal. In a context of expanding regionalism in North America and Europe and of the economic rise of East Asia, in particular in the four (old) ‘tigers’ (South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore), in the (new) ‘tigers’ of South-East Asia (Malaysia, Thailand and Indonesia), and in mainland China, the old concept of the ‘Triad’ had to give way to a new image based on the ‘Triad regions’: North America, the EU, and East Asia. This image would find evidence in the lasting high growth performance of East Asian economies, initially acknowledged by the World Bank in 1993 in The East Asian Miracle (World Bank 1993a) and, more recently, by the International Monetary Fund in its 2006 World Economic Outlook (IMF 2006). The idea of a tri-polar world economy underpinning the ASEM process has been, traditionally, very attractive to the Chinese leadership and some EU policymakers – in particular the French political elite and some elements within the Commission – as it is perceived as an additional factor contributing to the trend towards the multi-polarization of the international system.

3. Behind ASEM: the rise of East Asia and the tri-polarization of the world economy At the time of the first ASEM summit in 1996 the image of a tri-polar international economic order was sustained by the evidence of a world economy characterized by the concentration of the economic activity within North America (NAFTA – US, Canada and Mexico), the European Union (EU-15) and East Asia (Asia 10 – Asian ASEM countries: China, Japan, South Korea,

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Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Philippines, Indonesia, Brunei and Vietnam). The Triad’s combined share of the total world GNP was around 85 per cent, while Africa, Latin America and the ‘rest of the world’ (including vast geographically separated regions such as Russia and Eastern Europe, the Middle East, South Asia and Oceania), were left to divide the remaining 15 per cent (see Figure 14.1). The basis for East Asia’s economic dynamism is fairly evident: most East Asian countries have experienced sustained real annual growth between 7 per cent and 10 per cent since the early 1990s, with an exception during the period 1997–98 when the financial crisis hit the region and many South-East Asian countries experienced harsh economic downturns. However, seen in the long-run, the sustained growth rates of the last decades have contributed to the phenomenal expansion of the productive capabilities of the region. In 1993 the World Bank, using data measured at Purchasing Power Parity (PPP), that is, stripping out the effects of the exchange rate, declared that East Asia would soon be on a par with North America and Europe in terms of economic weight and that the Chinese Economic Area had already become the world’s fourth growth pole, along with the United States, Japan, and Germany (World Bank 1993b: 9). According to more recent estimates East Asia as a region is currently outperforming North America and the Eurozone. China alone would account for 13.6 per cent of world GDP (at PPP) in 2006 and is poised to become the largest economy by 2016 (see Table 14.1). In its 2006 World Economic Outlook, the IMF acknowledges Asia’s economic upsurge stating that investment in physical and human capital and, more recently, greater efficiency, have set successful Asian countries apart from Latin America and Africa in terms of development (IMF 2006: 7). The Asian Share of the world economy (GNP) 1996 35 30 25 20 15 10 5 0 Asia 10

EU-15

NAFTA

Africa

Latin America

Rest of the world

Note: Elaboration based on data from the working document discussed at the ASEM Foreign Ministers’ Meeting in Singapore on 20–21 February, 1997 (Casarini 2001: 33).

Figure 14.1 The world economy at the time of the first ASEM in 1996

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Table 14.1 The global economy in 2006 and beyond GDP growth (average year-on-year change)

United States Euro-zone Japan China India Rest of Asia

1986–96

1996–06

2.9 n.a. 3.2 10.0 5.9 7.8

34 20 09 83 59 66

percentage of world GDP (at PPP) 1986 1996 2006

2016

22.5 n.a. 8.8 5.0 4.0 13.1

201 129 51 202 71 254

216 176 87 94 51 181

209 153 69 136 59 216

Note: Elaboration data from: IMF 2006; World Bank 2004; Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development 2005.

(in particular East Asian) successful development path has prompted regional elites into forecasting an increasing assertiveness for their countries. Since the early 1990s, and until the financial crisis hit the region in 1997–98, the dominant discourse was that East Asia would sustain its rapid economic development, would soon surpass the West in economic performance and, hence, would be increasingly powerful in world affairs. As a result economic growth would stimulate among Asian societies a sense of power and an affirmation of their ability to stand up to the West. As they became more successful economically some East Asian policy-makers did not hesitate to emphasize the distinctiveness of their culture and the superiority of their values and way of life compared with those of the West and other societies. A ‘cultural renaissance’, Ambassador Tommy Koh noted in 1993, ‘is sweeping across Asia’. It involved a ‘growing self-confidence’, which meant that Asians ‘no longer regard everything Western as necessarily the best’ (Koh 1993: 2). This renaissance would manifest itself in increasing emphasis on both the distinctive cultural identities of individual Asian countries and the commonalities of Asian cultures that distinguished them from Western culture (Ibrahim 1996: 5). In the early 1990s South-East Asian leaders, in particular, trumpeted the rise of Asia in relation to the West and contrasted the virtues of the Asian, basically Confucian, culture responsible for this success – order, discipline, family responsibility, hard work, collectivism, abstemiousness – as opposed to the self-indulgence, sloth, individualism, crime, inferior education and disrespect for authority responsible for the decline of the West. To compete with the East, the advocates of the ‘Asian values’ argued, the West ‘needs to question its fundamental assumptions about its social and political arrangements and, in the process, learn a thing or two from East Asian societies’ (Mahbubani 1994: 12). ‘Asia’s increasing prosperity’, Anwar Ibrahim, Malaysia’s former Deputy Prime Minister asserted in 1994, ‘means that it is now in a position to offer serious alternatives to the dominant global political, social and economic arrangements’.3 The exponents of the Asian values

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discourse were mainly intent on addressing a powerful message to Western policy-makers, especially those in the US and Europe who, in the post-Cold War era, had started to advocate the spread of Western style democracy and human rights as tools of foreign policy. What the advocates of Asian values meant with their assertions was that the West was rapidly losing its ability to make Asian societies conform to Western standards concerning human rights and other values. The Asian financial crisis of 1997–98, however, represented a major blow to this growing East Asian assertiveness, temporarily putting a halt to the spreading of the Asian values discourse. It also became a major test for the EU and its ability to emerge as a global actor.

4. The EU and the Asian financial crisis At the outbreak of the crisis in 1997 a clear EU response was barely apparent. EU policy-makers played down the importance for their region of the crisis since the conventional wisdom insisted that Asian ‘economic fundamentals’ remained sound (Bello 1999: 5). At the same time, US policy-makers criticized the EU for being less than supportive of international efforts, led by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the Clinton administration, to halt the spread of the crisis.4 The IMF in particular, seeking to help East Asian countries to avoid defaulting on their debts to foreign creditors, had offered an immediate infusion of foreign exchange in late 1997 (FEER 1998: 25). The governments of Thailand, Indonesia and South Korea had each agreed to an IMF structural adjustment programme aimed to open up the targeted countries fully to international business and to earn the foreign exchange necessary to pay international debts. As the crisis unfolded the EU’s response was one of full support for the IMF’s prescriptions that, in the words of the EU Trade Commissioner, Sir Leon Brittan, ‘would be an opportunity to resist protectionism and promote further liberalization’.5 In the middle of the crisis the EU started to adopt a series of policies aimed at safeguarding EU members’ economies from possible risks of contagion. The EU policy-makers’ assessment of the crisis was based on the perception that currency devaluations could provoke trade conflicts, that there could be a significant slowdown of Asian inward Foreign Direct Investments (FDI) and that European banks could face enormous losses on their lending to the region (Casarini 2001: 44). The Commission also stressed the consequences of the Asian crisis for unemployment and slower growth in EU members’ economies. Moreover, Brussels even acknowledged the potentially destabilizing effects of the crisis on the convergence criteria of the European Monetary Union (EMU).6 In these circumstances, the second ASEM summit in London in April 1998 provided the EU with the opportunity to show that it could take decisive action to respond to the developing crisis in East Asia. The London meeting thus served two purposes: it endorsed the implementation of IMF’s reform

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programmes to individual countries – felt to be vital for restoring confidence in Asian economies and financial markets – and provided the EU with a platform from which to advance its international role. More specifically Europe’s strategy was aimed at challenging US leadership of the process of global economic governance. EU policy-makers sought to exploit the resentment of some Asian elites of US behaviour, in particular over intrusive demands with regard to human rights, labour and environmental standards and the perception among some Asian intellectuals and political leaders that the financial crisis was a product of a conspiracy by the US. The European approach was seen by East Asian elites as more pragmatic and conciliatory. The EU could, therefore, present itself as a more reliable actor in advancing a regime of global economic governance. At the same time the initiatives taken in the middle of the Asian crisis allowed EU policy-makers to exploit the situation to further the development of a common EU foreign economic policy and promote the EU as a global economic power. In sum, changes in the world economy between 1996 and 1998 significantly affected the perspectives of the European and Asian partners. In the first ASEM there was a convergence of preferences among EU members with regard to the need to strengthen relatively weak institutional links between Europe and Asia with the underlying perception across European capitals that the Union needed to engage more effectively with the dynamic economies of East Asia. The ASEM 2, instead, held in the shadow of the Asian crisis, became a forum where EU members put forward a common approach based on supporting the implementation of the IMF’s reform packages and, at the same time, enhance the EU’s international role in matters related to global economic governance. Finally, the Asian crisis revealed that the EU’s economic security could be seriously affected by developments in Asia.

5. The new significance of Asian markets for Europe’s economic security As discussed earlier the rationale for adopting a more proactive strategy towards Asia is related to the need to take advantage of Asian emerging markets with the overall aim of protecting the Union’s global competitiveness and welfare. According to the European Commission the EU’s role is to ‘pursue market opening for both goods and services and to overcome obstacles to European trade and investment    [since] active participation for European companies on Asian markets    can contribute to providing qualified jobs for European workers’ and help European industry to remain globally competitive (European Commission 2001: 4). This idea of the need to maintain the EU’s global competitiveness would find support in the emergence of a new conception of European security in the post-Cold War period. Back in 1993 in the White Paper on Growth, Competitiveness, Employment – the Challenges and Ways Forward into the 21st Century, the

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European Commission stated that in this globalized world the EU’s economic security must be protected (European Commission 1993: 2). In the same year the German government had put forward a new strategy towards Asia, advancing the idea that Europe’s global competitiveness and economic security would increasingly depend on European companies’ capacity to enter into the thriving Asian markets. According to the European Commission, Europe’s economic security can be defined as ‘the long term ability to protect its (relative) welfare position by ensuring access to resources and production capability, securing market outlets and maintaining macroeconomic stability’.7 The Commission has repeatedly pointed out that Europe’s economic security is directly affected by developments in Asia, in particular by the region’s steady, sustained and environmentally sustainable economic growth. But, how in practice does Asia’s economic development affect the EU’s economic security? For instance, the EU is very sensitive to world oil, raw materials and food markets. Since Asia, due to its large population and economic needs, depends on more and more imports, world markets have to make the corresponding adjustments. Thus, if Asia could maintain a steady economic growth and a stable expansion of its imports, the possibilities for gradual adjustments could be facilitated. From a European perspective disruptive shocks from sudden oil price surges, or strongly fluctuating Asian imports of food and raw materials, should be avoided. Otherwise the world markets and, consequently, the Union’s economy, would be adversely influenced.8 Furthermore, Asia is one of the major outlets for European goods and investments. At this time of greater economic interdependence, the outside market is becoming more important for the EU than ever before. In addition, with the progress of globalization in production, more and more European businesses are benefiting from the size of Asian markets and its increasing demand for capital investment. In recent years a growing number of European companies have been relocating activities to Asia (especially China) in order to profit from its cost advantage. In the 2004 European Competitiveness Report, the European Commission argues that success in the Asian markets – particularly in China – does not only generate growth, but economies of scale, which are even more important for large enterprises in order to protect their strategic position against their international competitors (European Commission 2004d: 353–4). Since it is generally assumed that an increase in European exports, as well as the success of European companies abroad would be translated into the creation of more jobs within the EU, it follows that securing market outlets and fair competition for European industries in Asia has become a major economic interest for European countries. Because of China’s sustained growth and Japan’s economic rebound in recent years, the share of Asia’s trade on total EU external trade has increased significantly. According to estimates, in 2005 Asia accounted for

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25.6 per cent of EU exports and 30.8 per cent of imports.9 Among Asian countries, China is currently the EU’s first trading partner, followed by Japan, South Korea and Taiwan.10 Estimates of European FDI flows into Asia accounted in 2004 for some E27.9 billion, although this was still a relatively limited proportion of global EU FDI. Asia accounted for 8.9 per cent of total EU outward FDI in 2004, notwithstanding the increasing amount of FDI flowing into China. The EU is particularly concerned about China, given its size, economic weight and role in the region. According to the European Commission China’s steady economic growth is the precondition for China’s sticking to its transformation process – the transition to a market economy and integration into the rules-based world trading system – which is essential for assuring fair competition for European companies in the Chinese market. In the case of China the economic factors are closely connected to (and interrelated with) political factors. Since China plays an increasingly important role in the maintenance (or disruption) of regional security, instabilities within China (with potential regional consequences) would have a direct detrimental effect on the region’s economic performance and, therefore, on European trade and investments in the entire Asian region.11 In particular, the Commission warns of the dangers inherent in a diminishing attractiveness of the Chinese market along with an eventual closing of the country that could lead to China’s neighbours’ defiance and containment policies of the West, in particular the US.12 In contrast, China’s opening up and an engagement policy from the West would allow sustaining growth rates and the creation of a good climate for regional stability; hence the insistence of the EU and its member states on a firm policy of engagement towards China in order to help support regional stability and protect the Union’s economic interests in the area (European Commission 2003c).13 Moreover, the EU’s economic interests in the region would be damaged by disturbances in the Japanese economy, which is the world’s second largest. The Union’s interests would also be affected by turbulences in the area that may destabilize the sea lines on which Europe’s trade with the region depend, as well as by any instability in the Korean Peninsula or in CrossStrait relations (i.e. between China and Taiwan), which is likely to involve both the US and Japan.14 Given the significance of Asia for Europe’s interests, in recent years there has been a growing realization in Europe that the EU needs to engage Asian countries not only on economic and trade issues, but also on security matters.

6. The evolution of the EU’s Asia strategy: the emergence of the security dimension In the aftermath of the Asian financial crisis the EU and its member states started to review the EU’s Asia policy. In September 2001 the European Commission released its paper Europe and Asia: A Strategic Framework for

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Enhanced Partnership (European Commission 2001) with the aim of providing EU member states with a more updated, coherent and comprehensive approach to the long-standing variety of EU–Asia relations, which over the years had matured into a process of individual dialogues linking the EU with ASEAN,15 China,16 Japan,17 South Korea,18 India,19 Indonesia20 and on the ASEM process,21 energy22 and environment sectors.23 Interestingly, in the 2001 Commission’s Communication the area covered as Asia is broadened: it covers all the countries in South Asia, South-East Asia and North-East Asia that were covered in the 1994 NAS (bearing in mind the change of status of Hong Kong and Macau after their return to China in 1997 and 1999 respectively) plus Australia and New Zealand, given their geographic proximity to – and economic integration in – the Asian region. In the 2001 document the European Commission clearly states that the economic prosperity of Europe may be jeopardized not only by financial crises but also by political instability in the region. The Commission recognizes ASEAN as a key economic and political partner of the Union and emphasizes its importance for overall relations between Europe and Asia. In this vein in July 2003 the European Commission released A New Partnership with South-East Asia (European Commission 2003d), reaffirming the growing importance of the relationship and recognizing that the EU–ASEAN partnership is a ‘dialogue between equals’ (European Commission 2003d: 3). As part of the new South-East Asia Strategy, in 2003 the EU launched the Trans Regional EU–ASEAN Trade Initiative (TREATI) in reaction to the establishment of the three-pillared ASEAN Community by 2020. In line with the New Partnership with South-East Asia, the EU agreed at the margins of the ASEM 5 in Hanoi (Vietnam) in October 2004 to start negotiations for comprehensive bilateral Partnership and Co-operation agreements with Thailand and Singapore, which could pave the way for a wider EU–ASEAN free trade agreement.24 These negotiations were carried forward to the ASEM 6 in Helsinki (Finland) in September 2006. European policy-makers have increasingly been attracted by China and its growing economic significance. According to interviews conducted by this author, since the end of the 1990s China has been the Asian country that has received most of the attention (and resources) from both the European Commission and the EU member states. Since 2004 China has become the EU’s second biggest trading partner (after the US) and, according to China customs, the EU has become China’s biggest trading partner – ahead of the US, as well as Japan. If current trends continue, Beijing is poised to become the Union’s most important commercial partner in the near future. At the sixth EU–China summit held in Beijing on 30 October, 2003 the two sides established a strategic partnership and signed an agreement for the joint development of Galileo, the EU-led global navigation satellite system. With co-operation over Galileo the growing economic relationship has started to include a security-strategic dimension, in a situation of total absence of

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issues that could provoke a conflict between the two sides. In this context the proposal to lift the EU arms embargo on China, officially tabled by France and Germany (by the Schröder government) at the European Council of Brussels in December 2003, was intended to give further meaning and content to the newly established strategic partnership. The majority of the EU members converged on the Franco-German proposal to start discussions on the lifting, although the Nordic countries have repeatedly voiced their concerns, in particular with regard to China’s human rights record. At the time of writing any decision on the lifting of the EU arms embargo on China is currently postponed due to: (i) strong US opposition; (ii) China’s failure to provide clear and specific evidence on the improvement of its human rights record; and (iii) the passing of the anti-secession law by the Chinese National People’s Congress (CNPC) in March 2005, clearly aimed at Taiwan. The arms embargo issue has revealed profound transatlantic differences over China. Contrary to the US the EU does not view China as a possible military threat or as a future peer competitor. Beijing’s participation in the Galileo project and the proposed lifting of the arms embargo are seen by most of the EU members as the logical extension, in the security and strategic field, of the policy of constructive engagement that has characterized European foreign policy towards China since the mid-1990s.25 The overall aim of the EU’s China policy is to engage China in all fields and at all levels in order to support China’s development and its integration in international society. The underlying assumption behind this policy is that a firm engagement policy towards Beijing would help support the country internally and, as a consequence, contribute to maintaining regional stability, perceived as the paramount objective for protecting the Union’s interests in the area.

7. Europe’s contribution to Asian security As discussed earlier, in recent years the EU has become increasingly concerned by the spill-over effects that political instabilities in Asia may have for Europe’s overall welfare. The European Security Strategy (ESS) adopted by the European Council in Brussels on 12 December, 2003 states that ‘problems such as those in Kashmir    and the Korean Peninsula impact on European interests directly and indirectly    nuclear activities in North Korea, nuclear risks in South Asia    are all of concern to Europe’ (European Council 2003: 11). Both the ESS and the latest Commission’s Communication on Asia recognize that it is in the EU’s own strategic interests to engage Asia not only on economic and trade issues, but also – and increasingly so – on security matters. But what has the EU done in support of Asian security? Europe’s involvement in Asian security affairs dates back to the mid-1990s. For instance, the EU is a member of the multilateral security activities of the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) and the Council for Security Co-operation in Asia Pacific (CSCAP). The ARF as ‘track-one’ represents the governmental

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level (in particular, diplomats from the foreign ministries), CSCAP as ‘tracktwo’ involves regional experts of think tanks and universities, as well as government officials in private capacity. With the establishment of ASEM in 1996 a ‘track-two’ has been initiated, which also includes a multilateral security dialogue on various levels between Europe and Asia. In September 1997 the EU through the European Commission has also become a member of the Korean Energy Development Organization (KEDO), created to implement denuclearization of the Korean peninsula. Since their establishment in the mid-1990s, all the above interregional security co-operation activities have been widened and deepened. Moreover, a number of bilateral security and military co-operation agreements between EU members and Asian countries have been initiated. The EU has further contributed to peace and security in the region by assisting the establishment of democratic governments in Cambodia and East Timor and by ensuring the implementation of the peace agreement between the government of Indonesia and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM), which fights for the independence of the Indonesian province of Aceh. In order to supervise the peace process the Aceh Monitoring Mission (AMM) began its operations on 15 September, 2005 with hundred of monitors from the EU and from a number of ASEAN countries. In this context the European Commission is providing assistance to the reintegration of former GAM combatants and is funding a number of programmes to support the democratic process and rule of law in Aceh. Although Europe has no permanent military forces deployed in East Asia after the return of Hong Kong to China, the UK is still a member of the Five-Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA), a military consultation agreement with Australia, Malaysia, New Zealand and Singapore. In addition, France has an operational military presence in the Indian Ocean and the South Pacific, with thousands of troops that can be deployed in East Asia in a relative short time. The most significant contribution that Europeans are currently making to Asia’s strategic balance, however, is through their growing arms sales in the region. Arms transfers are in large part about corporate profit, but they also represent strategic decisions. In recent years Asia has become an increasingly important market for a European defence industry that depends more and more on exports for the bulk of its revenues. According to the 2005 report by the US National Bureau of Asian Research, the Asian region, driven mostly by China, India and South-East Asian countries, has emerged as the largest developing world market for arms sales, accounting for almost half of all global purchases made in the period 2001–4 (Ashley 2005). Moreover, the demand for defence and aerospace products (both civilian and military) over the next 20 years is projected to arise outside the US or Europe’s market and come mainly from Asia and, in particular, China (Crane 2005). Analysts estimate that since 2005 Beijing has become the second largest market for

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aerospace, behind the US.26 China has also become the battleground between Boeing and Airbus, which fiercely compete for the leadership of the world aerospace sector. In this context EU–China co-operation on satellite navigation and other space-based technologies along with European advanced technology transfers and arms sales to China represent huge commercial opportunities for Europe’s defence industry and aerospace sector. Although any decision on the lifting of the arms embargo is currently postponed, some EU members (in particular, France, the UK, Germany and Italy) continue to sell weapons to Beijing. In its latest Annual Report, the Council states that in 2004 EU member states exported military equipment worth more than E340 million to China, though significantly less than in 2003 (whose total amounted to E416 million). By the end of 2004 eight EU member states concluded a total of 202 deals for transferring military equipment to China. France accounted for the largest share, signing 123 contracts worth E169 million in total, followed by the UK with 38 contracts worth E148 million (Council of the European Union 2005). Thus, in spite of the embargo, some EU governments – and their arms manufacturers – have been able to circumvent it by selling components for arms or dual-use goods (with both military and civilian applications). Growing EU–China relations in the security and strategic spheres have been carefully monitored by the United States and other concerned Asian partners of the Union. According to the Bush administration China’s participation in the Galileo project and the proposed lifting of the EU arms embargo on China may contribute to help China’s military modernization and potentially tilt East Asia’s strategic balance in Beijing’s favour in a situation where there could be future tensions in US–China relations, especially over Taiwan. According to the United States, the security-related elements of the EU’s China policy do not take into adequate consideration (i) the US’s strategic interests in the Asia-Pacific and (ii) the role of Washington as the ultimate guarantor of East Asian security. This situation provides one of the most crucial challenges for the EU as European policy-makers need to find a compromise between the Union’s growing commercial (closely related to strategic) interests in China – and more generally Asia – and the traditional transatlantic relationship. The strong opposition of the US to the proposed lifting of the EU arms embargo on China has caused a serious transatlantic rift. At the same time the arms embargo issue has become a ‘wake up’ call for Europeans to think more strategically about Asia and about Europe’s role in the region.

Conclusion: towards convergence in Asia? We have seen that since the early 1990s there has been a convergence of EU members’ foreign policies towards Asia. This convergence has taken the form of a common ‘Asia strategy’, in particular on matters of competence

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of first-pillar external relations (i.e. mainly trade and aid). However, with regard to issues pertaining to second-pillar foreign policy, the picture is more nuanced. On multilateral issues, such as the EU’s participation in Asia’s security consultation mechanisms (i.e. ARF, KEDO) or Europe’s involvement in peace-keeping and peace-building operations in Cambodia, East Timor and Aceh, there has been a congruence of interests that has allowed EU members to formulate and adopt a common approach. In other cases EU members have tended to pursue independent, and sometimes profoundly different, strategies. The case of the EU’s China policy – in particular the arms embargo issue and arms sales to China – well illustrates this point. The large EU members (Germany, France, the United Kingdom and Italy) have tended to pursue their national interests, preferring to cash in on the lucrative Chinese defence market instead of working for an EU common approach towards China and, more generally, towards the region and its security environment. In sum, alongside increased co-ordination on economic and commercial matters and on multilateral security consultation mechanisms, with regard to the more traditional security and strategic matters there continues to be the reality of distinctly different national policies. This dichotomy is likely to persist for the foreseeable future, thus undermining the capacity of the EU to exercise influence in Asia commensurate to its economic weight.

Notes 1. Data from Il Sole 24 Ore, Tuesday 5 September, 2006, p.1. 2. Chairman’s Statement of the Asia–Europe Meeting, Bangkok, 2 March, 1996, point (4); see also the website of the ASEM 6 at: http://www.asem6.fi/ 3. Anwar Ibrahim, International Herald Tribune, 31 January 1994, p. 6. 4. ‘Heads Stuck in the Sand’, Financial Times, 24 November, 1997, p. 3. 5. Financial Times, 2 December, 1997, p. 5. 6. ‘Global turmoil could upset run-up to EMU’, Financial Times, 9 December, 1997, p. 2. 7. Interviews, European Commission, DG I – External Relations, Brussels. The definition has been put forward by Unit I-2 (Policy Planning). 8. Interview, European Commission, DG I – External Relations, Brussels. 9. Data from European Commission working paper and personal interviews; see also: http://trade.ec.europa.eu/doclib/docs/2006/may/tradoc_113472.pdf 10. See http://ec.europa.eu/comm/external_relations/asia/rel/eco.htm 11. Interview, European Commission, DG I – External Relations, Brussels. 12. Interview, European Commission, DG I – External Relations, Brussels. 13. See also Javier Solana, Driving Forward the China–EU Strategic Partnership, speech by the EU High Representative for the Common Foreign and Security Policy at the China–Europe International Business School, Shanghai, 6 September, 2005. 14. Interview, European Commission delegation in Japan. 15. Creating a New Dynamic in ASEAN–EU Relations, COM (96) 314 final, 3.07.96. 16. Building a Comprehensive Partnership with China, COM (98) 181 final, 25.03.98.

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17. Europe and Japan: The Next Steps, Brussels, COM (95), 73 final, 1995; and Overview of EU–Japan Relations, Brussels, 2000. 18. Framework Agreement on Trade and Co-operation with the Republic of Korea, COM (98) 147 final, 8.12.98. 19. EU–India Enhanced Partnership, COM (96) 275 final, 25.06.96. 20. Developing Closer Relations between Indonesia and the EU, COM (00) 50 final, 2.02.00. 21. The Asia–Europe Co-operation Framework (AECF) 2000, Seoul, ASEM III, October 2000. 22. Europe–Asia Co-operation Strategy for Energy, COM (96), 308 final, 18.07.96. 23. Europe–Asia Co-operation Strategy in the Field of the Environment, COM (97) 490 final, 13.10.97. 24. Chairman’s Statement, The Fifth Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM) Summit, Hanoi 8–9 October, 2004. 25. For further details on the EU’s China policy see Chapter 5 in this volume by May-Britt Stumbaum. 26. ‘La Chine: le nouvel eldorado d’EADS’, in Air & Cosmos, n. 2009, 9 December, 2005, pp. 10–11; see also Claude Fouquet, ‘La France engrange 9 milliard d’euros de contracts avec la Chine’, Les Echos, Tuesday 6 December, 2005, p. 6.

Conclusions Spyros Economides

As seen from the wide range of issue areas, regions and bilateral relations addressed in this volume, the EU’s foreign policy activities have grown dramatically since the Hague Declaration of 1969. While this growth in activity has taken place, there is still a great degree of debate as to what this activity is, what it represents, on whose behalf it is carried out, and how effective it has been. As highlighted in a variety of ways in this volume, serious questions are still asked about the nature and effectiveness of this dimension of the EU’s external relations. Should there, for example, be so confident a use of the term ‘European foreign policy’, or must we always return to the cautious and more prosaic – but much more accurate – CFSP (and more recently ESDP)? Can we speak of ‘congruence’ and ‘convergence’ in the field of EU foreign policy, independently of the omnipresent issue of state sovereignty and the national interest of individual member states? Or is there some meaning to the ideas of collective or shared interests and policy preferences? Is there deep-seated belief in the assertion that the EU has or imminently will have a proactive or activist foreign policy based on a shared vision of foreign policy interests among the EU-25 and the willingness to shape the international environment according to these interests? Or do we fall back on the perennial excuse of deficient and conflicting institutions, slow processes and lack of consensus and vision, which means that the EU will always be a reactive foreign policy player lacking an agreed strategic outlook? Finally, can we speak of the existence of productive means to achieve certain common ends in terms of EU foreign policy, or do we still remain in the realm of hoping to achieve through declaratory policy or by setting a good example to others? Perhaps the weightiest question is that of identity and foreign policy. There is a general assumption that the liberal internationalist positions espoused by the EU in framing its ‘foreign policy’ represent Europe, or at least European values. Some may not accept this, arguing that these are policies representing the EU which is not equivalent to Europe. Others could argue that the lack of agreement or consensus among the European public as to what 226

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constitutes a European identity hinders the likelihood of the emergence of a ‘European foreign policy’. In other words can the EU’s foreign relations be called European foreign policy when it is not clear whether it represents the whole of Europe, whether there are common and agreed European values, or in light of the fact there is no clear agreement as to what constitutes European identity? Let us assume, momentarily, not only that these values exist but also that they are agreed upon and represent something uniquely ‘European’, or are at least emblematic of Europeaness. Does the EU have the collective will and means to ‘operationalize’ these values, to meet these ends; or in other words does it have the capabilities to meet growing expectations? This may seem like an overly long and critical list of outstanding questions and observations on the current status of Europe’s foreign policy. Nevertheless, it underscores a reality that one has to countenance when analysing Europe’s foreign relations: while we have come a long way from the initial stages of European Political Co-operation, and we have codified a set of practices, processes and institutional alignments through a variety of treaties resulting in a CFSP and evolving ESDP, the EU – especially in is foreign, security and defence policy – is always stuck in the middle ground as an international actor. As sketched out by William Wallace in his introduction to this volume, the EU occupies that ill-defined territory between statehood and international organization; it is less than a state but more than an international organization in its foreign policy interests and behaviour. Therefore there is a continuing debate about what the EU is, and what it actually does in foreign policy terms. The parameters of this debate have been set in theoretical terms. Is the EU an ‘actor’? Does the EU have ‘presence’? Has the EU established an identity and is this identity recognizable by its interlocutors? Are the national foreign policies of member states becoming ‘Europeanized’? If the answer is ‘yes’, at least to some of the above, then the questions become ones of what kind of actor or presence is the EU and what kind of identity has been forged? In response to this latter set of questions analysts have characterized the EU – in its foreign policy actions – in a number of different ways. Is, or has, the EU been a civilian, normative or soft power? Are these characterizations accurate and apposite? In other words do the principles and norms underlying these characterizations adequately meet the interests and/or policy preferences of the EU and its member states? In turn can these interests and policy preferences then be put into action; are the expectations solidly enough founded and clearly enough defined to allow for the development of effective capabilities to meet them? For many and for a great length of time following the Hague Declaration these questions remained redundant. But with the growth of the EU through a sequential cycle of economic integration and enlargement, of deepening and widening, there was a consequential increase in the EU’s international presence if not actorness (primarily because of its commercial and economic

228 Conclusions

standing and impact). Along with this grew a sense of need and responsibility to develop an international voice and ability to affect change in the behaviour of states, regions and perhaps even the system as a whole. For the practitioner involved in Europe’s budding international role – whether s/he is in Brussels or a national capital – this was not necessarily a value based issue. The EU had growing responsibilities internationally, and to meet these responsibilities it required processes that would allow for communality and consensus of position. As a consequence, instruments would also have to be developed to be able to enforce whatever communality of voice and position may emerge from these processes. A liberal position would have it that in the debates about these instruments choices were made which represented the underlying values and principles of the EU member states and as a result we had the emergence of an international actor that relied on non-military means to achieve its external objectives; a decision reached primarily because of Europe’s turbulent and violent past and in recognition of the nature if its international standing, which was mainly determined by its economic clout. A more realist position would have it that not only did the EU not have to develop any other instruments, because of its reliance on the security provided by the US, but that it could not as it was not a state (it could neither develop the basis for a real foreign policy not for the instruments to carry out that foreign policy), or did not want to as there was no consensus to do so. In this context the academic/analyst has attempted to theorize about the nature of the EU as an international actor and its ability to project its interests effectively. The results have been extensive and revolve around some of the characterizations set out above. Increasingly the outlooks of the practitioner and the analyst have converged and there are two main causes of this. First has been the growing engagement of the EU with its international environment over the last 35 years as a result of the desire of member states to develop policies representing interests shaped by the EU’s growing economic and commercial role. Second has been the dramatic series of changes that have affected the EU’s international environment as a result of the end of the Cold War, but also in other regional and bilateral relations (including with the US), which have led to calls for or even necessitated enhanced and more effective foreign policy actions. What these, and especially the latter, have led to is a growing body of EU activity and action in its external relations which goes a long way in supporting the position that the EU has indeed got foreign relations and is in the course of developing a foreign policy. More importantly, it has allowed practitioners and analysts alike to examine the mass of empirical evidence that has grown exponentially through the physical and material involvement of the EU in a number of crises and conflicts, and ever widening sets of relations with states, regions and international organizations. It is this involvement, and the practical and organizational lessons learnt from

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it, that has enabled the emergence of a newer understanding of what the EU is and what it does in the sphere of foreign relations. For example, enlargement of the EU has occurred regularly since 1973, but it is only much more recently that enlargement has been increasingly seen as an instrument of foreign policy. Within the context of enlargement policy we have also had the opportunity to take a very close look and take on board the implications of the policy of conditionality which has become so central to a wide range of the EU’s external relations. Arguably, conditionality has provided us with the definitive ‘European’ approach; the ability to influence neighbouring states and regions through the prospect of early candidacy and membership. However we define it or whatever term we use to characterize the policy of enlargement, whether it is soft power or not, what it shows is that the EU can exert power in a particular way, over particular states with very specific, identifiable and desired results. In these terms, the EU has a foreign policy that is based on certain values (peace, democracy, protection of human rights, prosperity, etc.), and which can be successfully operationalized. This specific area may have a limited shelf life as the EU reaches its geographical, political, economic and cultural limits of enlargement, but it has come to the fore – especially with respect to Central and Eastern Europe in the post-Cold War world – as a clear example of a distinct European approach to foreign policy. In other areas and through other policies, the EU has struggled and at times succeeded and at other times failed to come up with a distinctive voice in its foreign affairs. What this volume shows is that through a sustained empirical investigation one can really add flesh to the bones of the various arguments as to whether the EU has a foreign policy or not. While the cumulative experience of the last 35 years has had a significant impact on the ability of the EU to develop and exercise a foreign policy, the biggest learning curve has occurred in the period since 1990. The reasons for this are numerous. First and foremost is the EU experience in Yugoslavia’s wars and subsequently the Western Balkans. The violent dissolution of Yugoslavia pointed out all the political and institutional weaknesses of the EU in the area of foreign policy. The nascent CFSP may have been championed as the process through which the EU would resolve the conflict spreading through Yugoslavia but it proved far too limited. Neither convergence not congruence occurred and the EU’s foreign policy instruments were found wanting in the context of Yugoslavia’s violent collapse. But, it must be emphasized, that throughout the 1990s the EU persisted in the Yugoslav and Western Balkans context and the lessons it learnt from this experience have been highly instructive in the development of the EU’s foreign policy activities. In the Yugoslav context all possible instruments were deployed – diplomatic, political, economic, even in the minimalist sense military. In the post-Yugoslavia phase, in the context of the Western Balkans, the EU

230 Conclusions

has developed new instruments the impact of which will go far beyond South-Eastern Europe. These instruments range from the politico-economic contractual arrangements embedded in the Stabilization and Association Programme, which make heavy use of conditionality but provide no guarantee of future membership, through to policing and ultimately military deployments in the form of Althea and EUFOR in Bosnia. Second is the fluctuating transatlantic relationship. This is still an enduring relationship, albeit one that was supremely strained by the Iraq affair, which yet again revealed the difficulty of painting European foreign policy in terms of convergence and congruence. The gross divisions among the EU-25 caused by the intervention in Iraq was in a way a culminating point of a growing gulf in both capabilities and expectations across the Atlantic. The foreign policy of the Bush administration may not appeal to a wide variety of EU members, but then the Bush administration will not be in power indefinitely. What will be in place for generations is the currently unassailable US position in terms of capabilities especially in the technological aspect of military force. While this is in place the EU will almost constantly have to rely on some kind of US support, predominantly through NATO, to enable the smooth deployment and operability of the budding ESDP, and the EU will constantly have to contend with this US superiority inasmuch as it has a deep impact on political relations. An added issue of course is that as interests across the Atlantic diverge, especially as the Euro-centrism of the Cold War recedes into folklore, it is not always certain that there will be a meeting of principles with other areas of conflict and concern. The EU has tried to remedy this possible divergence in transatlantic interests through the strategy document A Secure Europe in a Better World. While this ostensibly set out the EU’s vision of the international system it inhabits and the principles proposed in pursuing policies in that system, it was also clearly aimed at Washington as much as the European public. It was an attempt to highlight the broad parameters of commonality and sharing of interests with the US and rather papered over the intra-European cracks that had emerged over Iraq. Nonetheless, it showed willingness to adapt and learn, which have been the hallmarks of a flexible and evolving set of processes and policies in term of the EU’s foreign relations. Third, the changing international system post-1990 has also brought to the fore a series of other challenges for the EU which the latter has met with differing degrees of success. Some of these are ‘neighbourhood issues’, other are more distant. As pointed out in Parts II, III, and IV, the EU has invested heavily – both politically and economically – in regional issues whether European, Euro-Mediterranean or Middle Eastern. On one level this is a continuation of policies predating the end of the Cold War. Nonetheless, since 1990, neighbourhood and regional policies have taken on a new lease of life. While the Middle East ‘Peace Process’ is a known quantity, the

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development of policies towards Russia and other Eastern European states not on the path to EU accession, the furthering of policies in the ‘Euro-Med’ partnership, the tackling of the Cyprus issue and the question of Turkey’s European future, have proved extremely onerous. Russia has necessitated the creation, at least on paper, of a new type of partnership with its own set of processes and political dialogue. The European Neighbourhood Policy has been developed, to many highly unsuccessfully, to deal with those ‘outs’ who will neither be ‘ins’ or even ‘pre-ins’ in the foreseeable future. Cyprus was accepted into the fold in the hope that it would resolve the impasse of the division of Cyprus – a rather novel form of the use of conditionality which has not proved successful. Ultimately the relationship with Turkey has embarked on a long and difficult journey, which may lead to Turkish accession but is also quite likely to lead along the way to deepening division among the existing EU-25 as to what and who constitute Europe. In this volume one finds the bricks and mortar of the EU’s burgeoning sets of relations. One comes away with at least a better sense of how to begin answering some of the questions set out in the first few paragraphs of these concluding remarks. The scope of the issues covered and their topicality should enable a better understanding not only of the nuts and bolts of EU policy, but also how those policies have multiplied and become more intense in the last 15 years or so. Some of the policies have flourished, others have been less than successful and should be re-evaluated. One thing is certain, and that is that this collection gives us a better understanding of what is or could be called European foreign policy and whether it is likely that notions of convergence and congruence will dominate the future debate on European foreign policy and supersede the existing divide between collective/shared policy and the individual interests of sovereign member states.

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Index Aceh Monitoring Mission (AMM), 222 Afghanistan, 48 African Union, 8 Albania, 98 Albright, Madeleine, 49, 50 Algeria Association Agreement, 197 EMP, 195 NATO, 206 Western Sahara, 144, 145, 146, 148 Allied Forces Southern Europe (AFSOUTH), 105 Alliot-Marie, M., 46 Annan, Kofi, 128, 141 Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty, 90 Arab Human Development Reports, 200 Arab League, 145, 155 Arab–Israeli peace process converging parallels, 112–13 elements of convergence, 115–25 endogenous variables, 118–25 ESS, 203 EU ‘Big Three’, 118–20 EU policy, xxii, 19, 30, 112–27, 203, 230–1 EU strategic culture, 124–5 France, 118–19 Germany, 119–20 Italy, 120–2 Middle East Quartet, 116, 124 national interests, 118–22 Roadmap, 116 trans-governmental network, 122–4 United Kingdom, 120 United States, 116–17 Arctic Council (AC), 181, 185 Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy (AEPS), 191 Armenia Action Plan, 168 Ashdown, Paddy, 100 Asia ASEAN see Association of South-East Asian Nations Asian values, 215–16

CAEC, 67 CFSP, xxv convergence, 223–4 CSCAP, 67, 221–2 cultural renaissance, 215 East Asian Economic Caucus (EAEC), 212 East Asian Economic Grouping (EAEG), 212–13 economic dynamism, 214–15 EU policy, xxiv–xxv, 209–25 European Commission (CEC), 210–11 European economic security, 217–19 financial crisis (1997–98), 214, 216–17 foreign direct investment (FDI), 216 France, 210 Germany, 210 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 216 New Asia Strategy (NAS), xxiv, 209, 210–11, 220 Purchasing Power Parity (PPP), 214 security dimension, 219–23 Trans Regional EU–ASEAN Trade Initiative (TREATI), 220 tripolarization, 213–16 Asia–Europe Meeting (ASEM), xxiv, 62–3, 67, 209, 211–13 Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC), 212 Association of South-East Asian Nations (ASEAN) ASEAN + 3, 8 regional co-operation, 7–8 Regional Forum (ARF), 67, 221–2 Azerbaijan Action Plan, 168 Balkans Bosnia see Bosnia Community Assistance for Reconstruction, Development and Stabilization (CARDS), 109 Concordia, 106 conflicts of 1990s, 98–101 248

Index Dayton Peace Accord (DPA) (1995), 100, 106, 108 ESDP, 97, 98, 104–8 ethnic cleansing, 100 EU ‘Big Three’, 101–4 EU policy, xxii, xxv, 97–111, 229–30 France, 102–3 FYROM see Macedonia Germany, 103–4 Implementation Force (IFOR), 100 Kosovo see Kosovo Ohrid Framework Agreement (2001), 104, 105 Operation Proxima, 106, 107 Sarajevo, 100, 103 Srebrenica, 100 Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe, 109 Stabilization and Association Process (SAP), 109 Stabilization Force (SFOR), 100, 107, 206 stabilization to integration, 108–9 UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR), 99, 100, 103 United Kingdom, 101–2 Vance–Owen Plan, 99 Ballesteros, Angel, 146 Baltic Sea area convergence/congruence, 192–3 EU enlargement, xxiv, 181–94 EU presence, 182–6 Germany, 187, 188 see also Nordic States Baltic Sea Region Initiative (BSRI) (1996), xxiv, 181, 184–5, 189, 190, 192 Baltic States Russian minorities, 183 technical assistance, 78 Barcelona Declaration, 195, 199 Barcelona process, 19, 116, 197 Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC), 181, 185, 189, 191 Belarus Action Plan, 171 ENP, 163, 176–7 Berlin Plus agreement, 54, 105 Berlusconi, Silvio, 91, 121 Bildt, Carl, 189, 190

249

Bin Ali, 199 Biscop, Sven, ix, xxiv, 195–208 Blair, Tony, 44–5, 49, 52, 60, 90, 91, 102, 103 Bosnia EU Police Mission (EUPM), 106–7 EUFOR/Althea, 5, 43, 54, 55, 97, 107, 108, 203, 206, 230 International Police Task Force (IPTF), 106 Partnership for Peace (PfP), 107–8 Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA), 105 status question, 98 sustainable self-government, 106 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 100 Brittan, Leon, 216 budgets CFSP, 5 China Country Strategy Paper (CSP), 62 Common Strategy, 82 EPI, 170–1 European Defence Agency, 46 OSCE, 6–7, 33–4 United Nations, 6, 28 Bulgaria EU enlargement, 6 OSCE, 35 Burns, Nicholas, 54 Bush, George, 52 Bush, George W., 52–5, 90, 142, 223, 230 Casarini, Nicola, viii, ix, xvi–xxv, 209–15 Catellani, Nicola, ix, xxiv, 181–94 Central and East European Countries (CEECs) acquis communautaire, 80 Atlanticists, 48 conditionality for reform, 79 Europe Agreements, 79 former Soviet Bloc, 6, 77–8 G24, 78 OSCE, 38 post-communism, 77–8, 195 technical assistance, 78–80 Central European Free Trade Agreement (CEFTA), 171 Charette, Hervé de la, 210 Chechnya, xxi, 77, 79, 80, 90–1 Chernobyl disaster, 173, 183

250 Index China arms embargo, 57, 59, 68–70, 71, 221 case studies, 64–73 CFSP, 57, 58 chambers of commerce, 66 China Country Strategy Paper (CSP), 61–3, 72 China–Europe International Business School, 64 co-operation scope and drivers, 61–3 co-operation without co-ordination, 67–8 Denmark, 67, 71 development assistance, 57, 58, 62 diplomatic recognition, 59, 60 economic growth, 218–19 Economic and Social Reform, 64–5 Erasmus Mundus programme, 62, 65 ESS, 57 EU ‘Big Three’, 58–61, 65–7, 71–2 EU policy, xx–xxi, xxv, 57–75 EU–China Civil Society Co-operation Programme, 72 EU–China Co-operation Programme, 64 EU–China Manager Exchange and Training Programme, 65 European Commission (CEC), 61–2, 71–3 foreign direct investment (FDI), 62 France, 59, 60, 66, 67, 68 Germany, 59–60, 63–6, 68, 71 historical background, 59–61 Hong Kong, 59, 60, 71, 222 human rights, 67, 69, 70–3 National Indicative Programme (NIP), 62 One-China principle, 60, 74 People’s Liberation Army (PLA), 68 security affairs, 67–70, 220–1, 222–3 self-centred economic focus, 7 Sino-European Trade Agreement (1978), 59 strategic partnerships, 60 summits, 62–3 Tiananmen Square massacre (1989), 59, 60, 68 Tibet, 72 trade and aid, 64–7

trade deficit, 57, 64 Trade and Economic Co-operation Agreement (1985), 59 United Kingdom, 60–1, 66, 68, 71 United Nations, 59 United States, 69–70 Chirac, Jacques, 56, 91, 102, 119, 134, 147, 148 Christmas tree method, 81–2 civil-military planning cell, 44 Clausewitz, Karl Marie von, 22 Clerides, Glafcos, 141 Clinton, William Jefferson, 48–53, 142 Cohen, W., 51 Cold War ending, 23, 29, 195, 209, 228, 229 military threat, 17, 24 renewal, 32 Combined Joint Task Forces (CJTF), 49 Commission see European Commission Common Declarations, xxi Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) Asia, xxv Balkans, 97, 98 budget, 5 capability-expectations gap, 83 China, 57, 58 consensus-driven foreign policy, xxiv convergence, 76 defence, xvi eastern neighbours, 163 ENP compared, xxiv intergovernmental method, xviii, 34 Nordic States, 181 Qualified Majority Voting (QMV), 81, 165 self-contained structure, xxi silent procedure, 29 small-big divide, 39 UN co-ordination, 28 Common Mediterranean Strategy, 116 Common Strategy budgets, 82 Mediterranean, 195, 207 Moldova, 174 Russian Federation, 78, 80–5, 87, 92 Ukraine, 171 Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), TACIS, 78–9, 83–4, 92, 167

Index communications, foreign ministries, 4 Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE), 182 Congo Artemis, 5, 10, 21, 43, 54, 206 MONUC, 206 congruence convergence compared, xviii, xix, xxiv, xxv meaning, xviii Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE) treaty, 183 convergence Arab–Israeli peace process, 112–13, 115–25 Asia, 223–4 Baltic Sea area, 192–3 CFSP, 76 Common Declarations, xxi concept, 113–15 congruence compared, xviii, xix, xxiv, xxv converging parallels, 112–13 elite convergence, 9 ESDP, 44–8 European Constitution (draft), xvi, xviii limits, 9–11 Cooper, Robert, 22 Copenhagen criteria, 109, 135, 142, 164, 173 Correspondance Européen (COREU), 29 Council for Asian–Europe Co-operation (CAEC), 67 Council of the Baltic Sea States (CBSS), 181, 184, 185, 187, 188, 189, 190 Council of Europe, Venice Commission, 175 Council of Ministers Cyprus, 138 GAERC see General Affairs and External Relations Council lowest common denominator, 82, 83 OSCE Working Group, 36–7 summits see European Council Council Presidency embassies, 5 presidential troika, 9, 36, 202

251

Council Secretariat, High Representative for Common Foreign and Security Policy, 5, 9, 10, 15, 80 Council for Security and Co-operation in Asia-Pacific (CSCAP), 67, 221–2 Council working group on global disarmament and arms control (CODUN), 28 Council working group on non-proliferation (CONOP), 28 Council working group on the UN (CONUN), 28 Court of Auditors, 84 Croatia candidate member, 98, 109 secession, 99 Cross-Border Co-operation, 184 Cyprus accession, 128, 129, 203 Annan Plan, 128, 141 Council of Ministers, 138 enosis, 128 EU Institutions, 137–40 EU policy, xxii–xxiii, 128–43, 231 external factors, 140–2 Greece, 128, 130–1 Member States positions, 132–5 NATO, 7 policy vacuum, 132–7 taksim (partition), 128 United States, 141–2 Dayton Peace Accord (DPA) (1995), 100, 106, 108 de Gaulle, Charles, 3 De Michelis, Gianni, 121 Debré, Michel, 147 Denkta¸s, Rauf, 140 Denmark China, 67, 71 EU membership, 187–8 NATO, 188 Derrida, Jacques, 13 Donne, John, viii East Asian Economic Caucus (EAEC), 212 East Asian Economic Grouping (EAEG), 212–13 Eastern Congo, EU operations (Artemis) (2004), 5, 10, 21, 43, 54, 206

252 Index Economides, Spyros, ix, xxv, 226–31 Edwards, Geoffrey, 120 Egypt EMP, 195 NATO, 206 Rafah border crossing, 117, 204 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 8 Elysée Treaty (1963), 3 Erasmus Mundus programme, 62, 65 EU enlargement Baltic Sea area, xxiv, 181–94 complexity, 6 conditional enlargement, 7 Copenhagen criteria, 109, 135, 142, 164, 173 enlargement fatigue, 110 fifth enlargement, 133–5, 138–9 former Soviet Bloc, 6, 77–8 EU Human Rights and Democracy Programme (EIDHR), 62 Euro-Arab Dialogue, 116, 123 Eurobarometer Surveys, 13 Euro-Mediterranean Charter Peace and Stability, 206 Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) acquis, 200 European Security Strategy (ESS), xxiv, 195–208 Muslim democracy, 201 politico-military dimension, 201–7 re-launch, 200–1 see also Mediterranean Euro-Mediterranean Study Commission (EuroMeSCo), 202, 205 European Arrest Warrant, 20 European Commission (CEC) Asia, 210–11 China, 61–2, 71–3 Cyprus, 138–40 DG External Relations, 5, 168 OSCE co-ordination, 37 priority setting, 9 representative missions, 4, 5 trade policy, 7 UN co-ordination, 28 Western Sahara, 152–3 European Community Humanitarian Aid Office (ECHO), 62, 153 European Constitution (draft) convergence, xvi, xviii

political issues, 6 referenda, 13, 110, 137 European Council Barcelona summit (2002), 105 Brussels (2004), 136 Cardiff (1998), 142 Cologne summit (1999), 50, 81, 104, 105 Copenhagen summit (1993), 79, 107, 109, 166 Copenhagen summit (2002), 131, 136, 142 Corfu summit (1994), 131, 133–4, 138 Goteborg (2001), 90 Helsinki summit (1999), 51, 90, 130 Luxembourg summit (1997), 84, 130, 142 strategy document (2003), 10, 12–26 Thessalonki summit (2003), 15, 109 Vienna summit (1998), 81 see also Council of Ministers European Defence Agency budget, 46 capability targets, 44 European Economic Area (EEA), 164, 167, 182, 186 European Foreign Minister (proposed), 6, 39 European foreign policy (EFP) aspirations/goals, 3–11 assessment standards, 6–9 identity, xvii progress made, 4–6 European Maritime Force (EUROMARFOR), 203 European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (ENPI), 167, 170–1 European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) Action Plans, 167–73, 175, 176, 185, 198–9, 203, 205 Belarus, 163, 176–7 coherence, xxiii–xxiv Country Reports, 167, 168, 172 cumulative conditionality, 168 eastern neighbours, 163–80 evolution, 165–9 grand strategy, 17, 19, 20 hard conditionality, 164 incentive structure, 164

Index Mediterranean, 166, 197–9 Moldova, 163, 164, 174–6 regional security, 116 Russian Federation, 166–7 scope and limitations, 169–77 Ukraine, 163, 164 European Parliament human rights, 72 supervisory role, 9 Western Sahara, 150–3 European Political Co-operation (EPC) China, 59 conference (1970), xvi, 3, 4 Hague Declaration (1969), 3–4, 226, 227 intergovernmental process, 9 European Political Cooperation (EPC), shared priorities, 6 European security community democracy, 25 domino dynamics, 17, 18 enemies/emergencies, 22–3 exportation, 18–19 failing states, 20, 22, 24 globalization, 16–17 good governance, 18, 19, 20, 25 international jungle, 21–5 liberal constructivist worldview, 15–21 neighbourhood, 17, 19, 20 organized crime, 17, 20, 22 regional conflict, 17, 22 sovereignty erosion/institutions promoted, 19–21 terrorism, 17, 20, 21, 22 threat perception, 21–2 unipolar international strategy, 17 WMD, 20, 21–2 see also grand strategy European Security and Defence Identity (ESDI), 49–51 European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) Atlanticists, 43, 44, 47, 48 autonomy, xx, 44–8 Balkans, 97, 98, 104–8 Bush administration (2001–5), 52–5 capabilities, 53 civilian and military crisis management, 43, 46, 50 Clinton administration, 48–53

253

compatibility with NATO, xx, 43–56 convergence/congruence, 44–8 Europeanists, 43, 44, 48 France, 46–7 Germany, 44, 47–8 Lebanon, 204 Mediterranean, 202–5 Operations Centre, 44 secrecy, 10–11 see also military activities European Security Strategy (ESS) A Secure Europe (2003), 10, 12–26, 54 adoption, 57 China, 57 Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP), xxiv, 195–208 liberal constructivism, 16 military power, 24 neighbourhood, 167 pre-emptive action, 18 see also grand strategy European Union (EU) conflict management, xxi–xxiii, 97–160 great powers, xx–xxi, 43–94 international system, xix–xx, 3–40 partial polity, xvii regional policies, xxiii–xxv, 163–225 External Action Service (EAS) (proposed), 6 Fallaci, Oriana, 22 Ferrero-Waldner, Benita, 174 Finland Arctic policy, 189, 191 EU enlargement, xxiv, 190–1 first pillar see Pillar I Fischer, Joschka, 47, 71, 72 Five-Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA), 222 foreign direct investment (FDI) Asia, 216 China, 62 Fouéré, Erwan, 106 France Arab–Israeli peace process, 118–19 Asia, 210 Balkans, 102–3 China, 59, 60, 66, 67, 68 ESDP, 46–7 multiplier of national power, 118

254 Index France – continued national foreign policy, xx NATO, 3, 5, 46–7 policy assumptions, 6 Western Sahara, 147–8 Free Aceh Movement (GAM), 222 FYROM see Macedonia Galileo project, 220, 223 Gas Co-ordination Group, 89 General Affairs and External Relations Council (GAERC) Burma/Myanmar, 211 co-ordination, 28, 82 Cyprus, 138 Turkey, 130 Genscher, Hans-Dietrich, 187 Georgia Action Plan, 168 Gerhardt, Wolfgang, 47 Germany Asia, 210 Balkans, 103–4 Baltic Sea area, 187, 188 China, 59–60, 63–6, 68, 71 ESDP, 44, 47–8 national foreign policy, xx, 8 NATO, 47–8 Russian Federation, 89 Ghadaffi, Muammar, 145 Giegerich, Bastian, ix–x, xx, 7, 43–56 Ginsberg, Roy, xvii Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry, 147 Global Mediterranean Policy, 116 global or universal public goods (GPG), 196–7 globalization, EU policy, 16–17 Glos, Michael, 91 Gnesotto, Nicole, 118 good governance, 18, 19, 20, 25 grand strategy A Secure Europe (2003), 10, 12–26, 54 ENP, 17, 19, 20 foreign policy preference formation, 14–15 meaning, 14 mission impossible, 14–15 policy institutes, 10, 16 postmodern realism, 12–26 strategic action, 12–13

see also European security community Great Lakes Region, conflict, 17, 22 great powers, European Union (EU), xx–xxi, 43–94 Greece Cyprus, 128, 130–1 national foreign policy, 29, 32 Turkey, 130 Gross, Eva, x, xxi–xxii, 10, 97–111 Guisan, Catherine, 22 Gulf War (1991), 118, 121 Habermas, Jürgen, 13 Hague Declaration (1969), 3–4, 226, 227 Hassan II (King of Morocco), 145 High Representative for Common Foreign and Security Policy, 5, 9, 10, 15, 80 Hill, Christopher, xvii, 83, 115 Hix, Stephen, xvii Holbrooke, Richard, 100, 142 Howorth, J., 44 Hughes, James, x, xxi, 6, 76–94 human rights China, 67, 69, 70–3 core values, 70–3 EIDHR, 62 European Parliament, 72 Russian Federation, 90 UNGA, 32, 33 Hunter, Robert, 49, 51 immigration immigrant communities, 6 Islamic World, 8 International Atomic Energy Agency, 20 International Conference on the Former Yugoslavia (ICFY), 99 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), 72 international order, liberal approach, 10 international organizations, EU caucus, 5 international relations, war, 22–3 Iraq War demonstrations, 13 disagreement with US, 10, 53–4 Mediterranean, 195, 205

Index Israel Action Plan, 198, 203, 205 EMP, 195 Likud, 117 NATO, 206 peace process see Arab–Israeli peace process Rafah border crossing, 117, 204 Second Lebanon War (2006), 119 Italy Arab–Israeli peace process, 120–2 national foreign policy, 8 Japan, tri-polar system, 213 Jensen, Uffe Ellemann, 188 Jordan Action Plan, 198, 205 EMP, 195 NATO, 206 Karamanlis, Costas, 131 Kashmir, regional conflict, 17, 22 Khristenko, Viktor, 87 Kock, Will (prime minister), 134 Koh, Tommy, 215 Korean Energy Development Organization (KEDO), 222 Korean Peninsula, regional conflict, 17, 22 Kosovo KFOR, 206 Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), 100 rule of law mission, 97 status question, 98 Kranidiotis, Yannis, 130 Kuchma, Leonid, 172 Lebanon Action Plan, 168 EMP, 195 ESDP, 204 Hezbollah, 119 Second Lebanon War (2006), 119 UN Interposition Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), 117, 122 Li Peng, 71 Li Zhaoxing, 71 Libya, 144, 145, 156 Lipponen, Paavo, 185 Longuet, Gérard, 210

255

Luif, Paul, x, xx, 5, 27–40 Lukashenka, Alexander, 176–7 Luxembourg Declaration (1991), 154 Macedonia (FYROM) crisis management, 97, 104–6 European Agency for Reconstruction, 106 Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA), 105 Macmillan, Harold, xvi, xviii Maghreb, 148, 153, 155, 156 Mahathir, Mohammad, 212 Mandelson, Peter, 64 Mauritania NATO, 206 Western Sahara, 144–5, 147, 148 Mediterranean Common Mediterranean Strategy, 116 Common Strategy, 195, 207 comprehensive security, 196–7 confirmation to implementation, 197–200 ENP, 166, 197–9 ESDP, 202–5 Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements, 198, 199 Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP), xxiv, 195–208 Euro-Mediterranean Study Commission (EuroMeSCo), 202, 205 Global Mediterranean Policy, 116 MEDA Programme, 199 Mediterranean dimension, 121 NATO Dialogue, 206 PSC, 202 safer environment, 125 Member States ‘Big Three’, 58–61, 65–7, 71–2, 101–4, 118–20 Cyprus, 132–5 foreign policy activities, 7, 8 national interests, 6, 9–10, 11, 118–22 neutrals, 32 no common discourse, 9–10 nuclear powers, 30, 32 OSCE differences, 37–8 Turkey, 135–7 UNGA consensus, 29–30

256 Index Member States – continued UNGA distance from mainstream, 30–3 Western Sahara, 146–50 see also national foreign policy Merkel, Angela, 48 Middle East oil, 115–16 UNGA, 30, 32, 33 Venice Declaration (1980), 113 military activities Bosnia (EUFOR/Althea), 5, 43, 54, 55, 97, 107, 108, 203, 206, 230 civil-military planning cell, 44 Eastern Congo (Artemis) (2004), 5, 10, 21, 43, 54 EMP, 201–7 expenditure, 7 force/peace, 23–4 Military Committee, 5, 43 NATO assets, 43, 49, 54, 105, 206 rapid reaction/battle groups, xvi, 5, 10, 43–4 shared sense of mission, 7 Miloševi´c, Slobodan, 100 minimum common denominator, xviii, xxii Mitterand, François, 148 Mohammed VI, 156 Moldova Action Plan, 168, 169, 171, 175, 176 Common Strategy, 174 Co-operation Council, 168 European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP), 163, 164, 174–6 Partnership and Co-operation Agreement (PCA), 165, 169 Moratinos, Miguel Angel, 123, 124 Morocco Action Plan, 198, 205 EMP, 195 membership application, 166 NATO, 206 Western Sahara, 144–53, 156 Moroz, Oleksandr, 174 Musu, Costanza, viii, x, xvi–xxv, 112–17 national foreign policy France, xx Germany, xx, 8

Greece, 29, 32 Italy, 8 UNGA voting behaviour, 30–3, 154 United Kingdom, xx see also Member States neighbourhood conditional diplomacy, 7 ENP see European Neighbourhood Policy former Soviet Bloc, 6 Northern neighbourhood agenda, 183–4 security and stability, 20, 116 New Asia Strategy (NAS), xxiv, 209, 210–11, 220 New Transatlantic Agenda, 212 Nordic States CFSP, 181 EU presence, 186–91 Nordic balance, 182 see also Baltic Sea area North Atlantic Council, 49 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) Balkans, 98, 103, 104, 105, 107 Berlin Ministerial (1996), 49, 50 burden-sharing, 45 collective defence, 46, 50 compatibility with ESDP, xx, 43–56 Cyprus, 7 Denmark, 188 EU membership, 7 European autonomy, 44–8 France, 3, 5, 46–7 Germany, 47–8 Mediterranean Dialogue, 206 NATO assets, 43, 49, 54, 105, 206 Norway, 188 Operation Essential Harvest (2001), 105 Political Committee, 3 Prague summit (1999), 46–7 Response Force (NRF), 46–8 SACEUR, 105 Turkey, 7, 135, 203 Washington summit (1999), 50, 51 Northern Dimension (ND), xxiv, 84–5, 90, 181, 185–6, 189–93 Norway, NATO, 188 nuclear powers, 30, 32

Index Ojanen, H., 184 Organization of African Unity (OAU), 145, 156 Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) Action Plans, 176 CEECs, 38 Chairman-in-Office, 36, 37 chefs de file, 35–6 consensus, 34–5 EU budget contribution, 6–7, 33–4 EU co-ordination, 33–8 like-minded states, 35, 37 Member States’ differences, 37–8 Ministerial Councils, 35 participating states, 33 Permanent Council (PC), 33, 34, 35 political dialogue stifled, 35 reform, 38 Russian Federation, 7, 34, 38, 90 United States, 7, 34 vocabulary deliberations, 35 voting behaviour, xx Owen, David, 99 Palestinian Authority Action Plan, 198, 203 EMP, 195 see also Arab–Israeli peace process Pangalos, Theodoros, 131 Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK), 130 Papadoloulos, Tassos, 140 Papandreou, Andreas Georgios, 130, 131 Papandreou, George, 131 partial polity, xvii Patten, Chris, 87, 166 People’s Republic of China (PRC) see China Persson, Göran, 189 Petersberg tasks, 24, 104 Pillar I Asia strategy, xxiv–xxv Cyprus, 129, 138 external relations, 4 Middle East, 123 right of initiative, 28 Pillar II foreign policy co-ordination, 4 Middle East, 123

257

Russian Federation, 80 Pillar III, co-ordination, 4 Poland and Hungary: Assistance for Restructuring Economies (PHARE), 78, 79, 167 Policy Planning and Early Warning Unit, 80 Political and Security Committee (PSC) Mediterranean partners, 202 Priorities Paper, 28 role, 4–5 Pöttering, Hans-Gert, 72 Powell, Colin, 116 Prodi, Romano, 70, 122, 166 Putin, Vladimir Vladimirovich, 78, 85, 90, 91, 92, 172 Qualified Majority Voting (QMV), 81, 165 Radeva, Mariyana, x, xx, 5, 27–40 Rapid Reaction Force, xvi, 5, 10 regional conflict, European security community, 17, 22 regional policies Asia see Asia Baltic see Baltic Sea area European Union (EU), xxiii–xxv, 163–225 Mediterranean see Mediterranean see also European Neighbourhood Policy; neighbourhood religious fundamentalism, 21 Rifkind, Malcolm, 120 Robertson, George, 45 Romania EU enlargement, 6 OSCE, 35 Rühe, Volker, 47 Russian Federation bilateralism, xxi Chechnya, xxi, 77, 79, 80, 90–1 Christmas tree method, 81–2 Common European Economic Space, 87, 88 Common Strategy, 78, 80–5, 87, 92 co-ordinating technique, 82–5 energy, 79, 85–91 ENP, 166–7 EU policy, xxi, 76–94 EU–Russia summits, 87, 91

258 Index Russian Federation – continued Facilitated Rail Transit Document, 87 Facilitated Transit Document, 87 foreign policy indirection, 7 Germany, 89 history of relations, 77–8 human rights, 90 Kaliningrad, 87, 183, 189 Mid-Term Strategy 2000–10, 85 OSCE, 7, 34, 38, 90 partnership, 6, 85–91 Partnership and Co-operation Agreement (PCA), 78, 79–80, 165 pragmatism, 85–91 Ukraine gas dispute, 88–9, 172 World Trade Organization (WTO), 87 St Malo Declaration (1998), 5, 45, 49, 102, 103 Saqiat el-Hamra see Western Sahara Sasse, Gwendolyn, x–xi, xxiii–xxiv, 7, 163–80 Schake, K., 52 Schengen agreement, 164 Schnabel, Rockwell, 54 Schröder, Gerhard, 65, 71, 81, 90, 91, 104, 221 second pillar see Pillar II security affairs Asia, 219–23 China, 67–70, 220–1, 222–3 CSP see Common Foreign and Security Policy ENP, 116 ESDI, 49–51 ESDP see European Security and Defence Policy ESS see European Security Strategy OSCE see Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe UNGA, 30, 32, 33 see also European security community Shanghai Co-operation Organization (SCO), 8 Simitis, Costas, 130, 131 Sloan, S., 52 Slovenia, secession, 99 Smith, Michael, xvii Soames, Christopher, 59 soft power, 7, 8, 80

Solana, Javier, 10, 15, 54, 74, 82–3, 104, 105, 124, 138, 165, 166 South Eastern Europe, Stability Pact, xxii Soviet Union (FSU) collapse, 77, 183 Trade and Co-operation Agreement (1989), 79 see also Russian Federation Spain, Western Sahara, xxiii, 144–5, 146–7 Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe (1999), 174 Stabilization and Association Agreements (SAA), 105, 170 state, Weberian concept, xvii Stumbaum, May-Britt, xi, xx–xi, 57–75 Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE), 55, 105 Sweden, EU enlargement, xxiv, 188–9 Syria, EMP, 195 Talbott, Strobe, 51 Technical Aid to the Commonwealth of Independent States (TACIS), 78–9, 83–4, 92, 167 terrorism, European security community, 17, 20, 21, 22 third countries diplomatic representation, 4, 5 soft power, 7, 8 third pillar see Pillar III Tiersky, R., 46 Tito (Marshall Tito), 98 Tocci, Nathalie, xi, xxii–xxiii, 128–43 Transnistria, 173, 175, 176 Treaty of Amsterdam (1997), 4, 63 Tunisia Action Plan, 198, 205 elections, 199 EMP, 195 NATO, 206 Turkey candidate member, 130, 203, 231 customs union, 130, 136, 142 EMP, 195 Greece, 130 Member States’ positions, 135–7 NATO, 7, 135, 203 United States, 141–2 Tymoshenko, Yuliya, 174

Index Ukraine Action Plan, 168, 169, 171, 172–3, 176 Common Strategy, 171 Co-operation Council, 168 Country Report, 172 ENP, 163, 164 EU Action Plan on Justice and Home Affairs, 173 gas dispute, 88–9, 172 membership perspective, 171–4 Memoranda of Understanding, 173, 174 Orange Revolution, 172, 173, 174 Partnership and Co-operation Agreement (PCA), 79, 165, 169, 171–2 Ten Points, 172 WTO accession, 172, 173 UN budget, EU contribution, 6, 28 UN Charter, Chapter VII, 28 UN General Assembly (UNGA) decolonization, 32, 33 EU co-ordination, 27–33 EU observer status, 28 First Committee (Disarmament and International Security), 28 human rights, 32, 33 individual Member States, 30–3 Middle East affairs, 30, 32, 33 Priorities Paper, 28 security affairs, 30, 32, 33 voting behaviour, xx, 29–33, 154 Western Sahara, 153–6 UN Interposition Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), 117, 122 UN Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo (MONUC), 206 UN Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO), 150, 155 UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR), 99, 100, 103 UN Security Council, composition, 28, 38 United Kingdom Arab–Israeli peace process, 120 Balkans, 101–2 China, 60–1, 66, 68, 71 national foreign policy, xx United Nations

259

China, 59 EU policy, 19 United States Arab–Israeli peace process, 116–17 Bush administration (2001–5), 52–5, 90, 142, 223, 230 China, 69–70 Clinton administration (1998–2000), 48–53 Cyprus, 141–2 foreign policy, 7, 8 OSCE, 7, 34 transatlantic relationship, xx Turkey, 141–2 US–China Congress Commission, 63 Valencia Action Plan (2002), 202 Vance, Cyrus, 99 Vaquer i Fanés, Jordi, xi, xxiii, 144–60 Vassiliou, Georgios, 141 Vedrine, Hubert, 118 Venice Declaration (1980), 29, 125 Vennesson, Pascal, xi, xix–xx, 10, 12–26 Verheugen, Günter, 166 Voronin, Vladimir, 175–6 Wallace, Helen, xviii, xix, 113, 114 Wallace, William, xi–xii, xvii, xix, 3–11, 227 war, international relations, 22–3 Washington, George, 8 weapons of mass destruction (WMD), 20, 21–2 Weidenfeld (Lord), 119 Wen Jiabao, 60, 65 Western Balkans see Balkans Western European Union (WEU), 49 Western Sahara EU policy, xxiii, 144–60 European Commission (CEC), 152–3 European Parliament, 150–3 France, 147–8 Frente Polisario, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 153, 156 ICJ opinion, 144–5 Member States’ positions, 146–50 MINURSO, 150, 155 origins of conflict, 144–5 Saharawis, 144–5, 147–54, 157–8 Spain, xxiii, 144–5, 146–7

260 Index Western Sahara – continued Tripartite Madrid Agreement (1975), 146, 147 UNGA, 153–6 whether decisive policy possible, 156–8 White, Brian, xvii Wildavsky, A., 14, 15 World Trade Organization (WTO) ASEM, 212 China, 64

mixed competencies, 7 Russian Federation, 87 Ukraine, 172, 173 Yanukovych, Viktor, 174 Yeltsin, Boris Nikolayevich, 91 Youngs, R., 200, 201 Yugoslavia (former) see Balkans Yushchenko, Viktor, 172, 174 Zoellick, Robert, 69–70