Tag Archive for: European Union

The EU needs fiscal union

European economic policymakers have had a packed schedule lately. First, the European Central Bank’s governing council gathered to deliberate on what would become its 10th consecutive interest-rate hike. Then, the European Union’s Economic and Financial Affairs Council met for an as-yet-inconclusive negotiation about reforms to EU fiscal rules. Finally, European ministers, central-bank governors and regulators held their traditional informal meeting to discuss economic governance and fiscal and monetary policy coordination. Unfortunately, however, none of these meetings is likely to bring the changes Europe needs.

When the Covid-19 crisis erupted, European authorities and central bankers moved quickly to implement a powerful, innovative response that few would have thought possible. But the resulting increase in public debt, together with the recent bout of inflation, has spooked policymakers. Now, some EU member states—particularly those that had reservations about the pandemic spending—are advocating a return to austerity, and the ECB has once again embraced a hawkish stance. Will this be a transient episode of reform fatigue, or is Europe poised to return to its old ways for good?

The European Commission, along with many central bankers and finance ministers, recognises that an asymmetric federation with one central bank and many fiscal authorities, each operating according to national fiscal rules, has a deflationary bias. But even though this tendency clearly puts the EU at a disadvantage compared to the United States—which can respond to crises with a far more supportive mix of policies—the political will to counter it is nowhere to be found.

The European Commission’s proposal for reforming EU fiscal rules is a case in point. Despite being less stringent than the stability and growth pact that is now in place, it includes many undesirable pro-cyclical elements. The implication is that today’s weakening growth will be accompanied by a sharp fiscal consolidation. If adopted in their current form, the proposed changes would require the EU to increase its overall structural primary surplus by an estimated 0.65% of GDP annually from 2025 to 2028. That is a significant figure—and it’s even higher in the cases of France (1.1%) and Italy (0.9%).

To achieve that level of surplus, the EU would have to undertake a coordinated fiscal tightening. And, in fact, the European Commission is already forecasting that scenario in 2024, just as the ECB has announced that monetary policy will remain in restrictive territory.

The problem, of course, is that excessive tightening under these conditions will have serious negative consequences. By 2025, at which point the ECB will probably have started its next easing cycle, one can expect monetary–fiscal crosswinds that will hamper growth and increase the likelihood of below-target inflation, as occurred in 2013–16. At the same time, the lack of fiscal space will limit public investment in critical strategic areas such as defence, energy, climate mitigation and adaptation, and technology.

Make no mistake: without some form of fiscal federalism that supports common expenditures to advance shared objectives, the EU is doomed. If the new fiscal rules are to be credible, more fiscal space must be created at the federal level. Recognising this is the first step towards breaking the EU’s longstanding political impasse (which has been reinforced by a lack of mutual trust and courageous leadership) and guiding the negotiations that follow.

On an optimistic note, the need for closer fiscal union and cohesion in tackling looming challenges is now widely recognised. However, reforms to achieve such outcomes are still viewed as tasks for the future rather than as urgent priorities. As long as the can is being kicked down the road, European fiscal and monetary policy will continue to do harm, potentially killing the patient before the cure arrives.

To be sure, macro policies aren’t everything, and the EU has a full plate in dealing with other urgent issues such as migration, market competition, banking regulation and the fallout from Russia’s war in Ukraine. But as long as there’s an excessive emphasis on stability over growth, Europe will remain mired in stagnation, convergence on common solutions will be difficult to achieve, and popular support for the EU will be at risk. This matters because economic integration without political support is neither desirable nor possible.

Next year’s European Parliament elections will be an important test, demonstrating the extent to which Europeans support a meaningful reform agenda and reject a return to the EU’s old ways. We can only hope that they choose wisely, and that it’s not too late.

The return of EU enlargement

Strange as it sounds, the European Union’s most successful policy ever has been deeply unpopular in Brussels for the past decade. But now, the view from the bloc’s political and governing institutions is changing. EU enlargement is back on the agenda, and it will remain there.

The EU’s enlargement and evolution have radically changed Europe. The bloc has grown from six members to the current 27. While it was originally meant to facilitate Franco-German reconciliation in the mid-20th century, it soon became a vehicle for securing democracy in southern Europe after the fall of the dictatorships in Greece, Portugal and Spain. And then, after the fall of communism, EU enlargement fundamentally transformed much of Central and Eastern Europe.

The EU owes its prosperity to its vast internal market, where people, goods, ideas and capital can move freely, and where many old borders and barriers have gradually disappeared. European enlargement and integration have not always been easy, nor is the process complete. Yet it has been a monumental success, overall.

But enlargement has rarely been popular. Within the political bubbles of the European Commission and the European Parliament, there has always been murmuring about the attendant institutional challenges, budgetary problems and disruptions to the status quo.

Such complaints—which are echoed by some key member states—help to explain why the EU enlargement process stalled around a decade ago. The last new member to be admitted was Croatia, in 2013. Meanwhile, the rest of the Western Balkans have been left out, despite the official invitation they received two decades ago (admittedly, some of them haven’t been particularly helpful in advancing their own accession).

Russia’s war against Ukraine has changed the situation. Ukraine applied for EU membership just days after the invasion started, and the EU recognised its status as a candidate in record time. What had previously been unthinkable suddenly became a strategic necessity. Following the elections to the European Parliament in June 2024, the next European Commission will be expected to make enlargement one of its top priorities.

True, this change comes with risks. Ukraine’s accession process could end up stalled, like the Western Balkan countries’ process did after the post-Yugoslav wars of the 1990s. Yet there is good reason to think that this time is different. After all, failing to bring Ukraine into the fold would jeopardise European security and amount to a strategic disaster for the EU.

But EU accession is not a simple affair. It entails lengthy, detailed talks that are best understood as a negotiated surrender to all the rules and regulations encompassed in the 35 chapters of the acquis communautaire (the body of EU law). The process is tedious, complicated and unavoidable. There are no shortcuts. The countries that joined after the original six members negotiated for an average of four years. While Finland and Sweden closed all chapters in a record-setting two years, Portugal and Spain each took around six years, owing to complications concerning their agricultural policies.

The European Commission is now assessing what the next step should be, with a report expected in October. If it recommends moving ahead with accession negotiations, and if the European Council agrees to do so when it meets in December, talks with both Ukraine and Moldova could start sometime in 2024. And if that happens, there’s a chance that the negotiations could be concluded within the next commission’s five-year term.

But hurdles abound. Ukraine must sustain its reform momentum, and the EU will need to manage the various institutional issues and budgetary challenges that come with enlargement. With preparation, these should be surmountable. Spain’s accession in 1986, and Poland’s in 2004, required lengthy transition periods and careful management of sensitive issues, but both ultimately succeeded.

For its part, Ukraine is geographically large, but it’s small in many other ways. In terms of population, it is significantly smaller than the (recently departed) United Kingdom, but close to Poland and Spain. Its economy, however, is significantly weaker. Even prior to the war, its per capita GDP was less than one-third the EU average. Since the invasion, it has lost roughly a third more. Incorporating Ukraine into the EU thus would represent a significant budgetary burden, underscoring the need for sufficient preparation and political will.

Looking ahead, launching accession negotiations with Ukraine and Moldova may also lead to calls for renewed talks with the Western Balkan countries. If that impasse is broken, the EU could suddenly be on track to include 35 member states within a decade.

It’s worth remembering that previous waves of enlargement have always been accompanied by fears of weakening the EU. Yet, in each case, the bloc has grown stronger. As the EU has expanded, it has become more relevant and important on the world stage. There’s no reason to think that adding new members today would yield a different result. But the process must be managed carefully to uphold European principles and standards. How the next phase of EU enlargement is handled will determine Europe’s fate for decades to come.

Europe’s ammunition will help bring a just peace in Ukraine

Ukraine has been forced into a high-intensity war where its freedom and national survival are at stake. To fight back and be able to push out the Russian invader, Ukraine needs not just political support and money. Crucially, it needs weapons and ammunition. Weapons without ammunition are useless.

Russia’s stocks of artillery shells, and their use, are much higher than Ukraine’s—and the price for this difference is paid in Ukrainian lives. We have said repeatedly that the defence of Ukrainian sovereignty is existential, for Ukraine and for the rest of Europe. We cannot want this goal without giving Ukraine the means to achieve it.

Since Russia launched its war against Ukraine, the EU has shown that it gets what is at stake and is ready to break taboos when the need arises. One year ago, we began to finance, for the first time ever, the supply of lethal military equipment to a country under attack. Then in the autumn we started to train Ukrainian soldiers on our soil, under the EU flag. We are on track to train 30,000 Ukrainian soldiers by the end of this year. Now we are taking another big step by working together to supply Ukraine with the ammunition it so urgently needs.

On 20 March, European leaders agreed to a three-track proposal that I put forward, together with Thierry Breton of the European Commission, to finance the urgent provision of artillery ammunition from existing stocks or pending orders, to jointly procure new artillery shells, and to work with the EU defence industry to increase production capacity to address our own needs and sustain our support for Ukraine.

In the past 20 years Europeans have reduced their investments in defence industrial capacity, which we now need to ramp up again because of the radically changed security environment.

Concretely, we aim to provide Ukraine with 1 million rounds of artillery ammunition within a year, using a total of €2 billion under the European Peace Facility. With a reimbursement rate of 50% to 60%, this new package will enable us to leverage roughly €4 billion.

This decision demonstrates the EU’s ability to act quickly when we need to, and it is proof that we remain determined to give Ukraine the means it needs for its legitimate self-defence. Like-minded partners play a key role in this collective effort. I thank Australia for its unwavering support to Ukraine’s defence. It has never been more vital to step up, and the EU and Australia have promptly answered the call.

This decision will raise the question of how giving ever more weapons can bring an end to this horrible war. The answer is that to defend itself and to end the war, Ukraine needs both weapons and ammunition—for as long as Russia keeps attacking and bombing Ukraine.

We, of course, like Ukraine, want peace. But we do not seek any kind of peace. We want a just and sustainable peace, based on the UN charter, where Russia withdraws its troops from all the territory of Ukraine that it currently occupies. This is also why we support President Volodymyr Zelensky’s peace formula.

In other words, how the war ends matters—not just that it ends per se with Russia making territorial and other gains from its war of aggression.

We also want accountability, and that is why the indictment by the International Criminal Court of President Vladimir Putin is important. He must pay for the war crimes he is responsible for, including the forced abduction of so many children from Ukraine.

In this war, history and justice are on the side of Ukraine. But we need to accelerate the march of history. Our military support and our decision to buy ammunition together serve the cause of a just peace in Ukraine. It is the right decision and a necessary one.

Poland’s Ukrainian rehabilitation

Russia’s war against Ukraine has been reshaping European politics. The former Soviet bloc countries of Central and Eastern Europe—all now members of the European Union and NATO—have proved to be a major force in shaping the West’s strategy for preserving Ukraine as an independent nation-state. And none more so than Poland.

When discussions about imposing a price cap on Russian seaborne crude oil stalled last year, it was Poland, Lithuania and Estonia that the United States lobbied to break the impasse. These governments had dug in their heels to demand an even lower price (of US$30 per barrel), in order to cut more deeply into the Kremlin’s oil revenues. Then, at the start of this year, US Treasury officials turned to Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia and Poland again, to see what maximum price level they would accept for additional caps on Russian refined petroleum products.

Before the war, Poland and the Baltic states were often portrayed as being irrationally intransigent when it came to dealing with Russia. Owing to their memory of Russian imperialism, occupation and oppression, they had long exhibited a ‘Russia realism’, in stark contrast to the pragmatic, economically minded stance of Germany and France.

This divergence in perspective prevailed up until Russia’s full-scale invasion last February. Even though the US intelligence community had presented compelling evidence that Russian President Vladimir Putin was about to send in his forces, most other Western governments continued to insist that such a move was ‘irrational’ and thus ‘improbable’. By contrast, Poland and the Baltic states took the reports at face value and braced for the worst.

One year later, their strategic posture has become the new Western standard. Central and Eastern European governments now enjoy significant influence in Brussels, London and Washington, especially when it comes to designing policies to punish Russia. Some have demonstrated unwavering resolve, even as their bigger, more powerful EU neighbours have made half-hearted efforts and dragged their feet.

For example, Poland has provided more military, humanitarian and financial assistance to Ukraine than most other Western countries. It has welcomed 1.5 million Ukrainian refugees (more than any other country) and increased defence spending to a record 3% of GDP this year, putting the Polish army on track to become one of Europe’s finest.

Of course, not all Central and Eastern European countries are on board. Most notably, Poland’s formal ‘illiberal’ ally, Hungary, has adopted an openly pro-Russian stance. Its anti-EU propaganda and obstruction of sanctions against Russia have been a major a headache for both the EU as a whole and its Visegrad neighbours (the Czech Republic, Poland and Slovakia). Poland and Hungary used to be in lockstep when they would break with the EU on issues such as migration and the rule of law. Now, they find themselves in opposite corners.

This falling out leaves the Visegrad Group in a tough spot. Both the Czech and Slovak governments are among Ukraine’s top supporters globally, in terms of total bilateral aid as a percentage of donor GDP. They have also shown solidarity with Ukraine by welcoming hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian refugees and providing heavy weaponry. Moreover, Slovakia has used its position as the president of the Visegrad Group to mute foreign policy cooperation with Hungary. But this clear foreign policy orientation could have been bolstered by closer alignment in other policy arenas, notably, on energy policy. The EU’s oil embargo last year was a case in point: the Czech Republic, Hungary and Slovakia all negotiated exemptions allowing them to continue importing Russian oil through the southern Druzhba pipeline.

While the commitments from some Central and Eastern European states remain patchy, Poland has continued to rise to the challenge. But to emerge decisively as a new force in the EU, it will have to do more to win the confidence of other Western governments. That means shaking off its image as Hungary’s illiberal fellow-traveller and addressing its own democratic shortcomings head-on.

After the right-wing populist Law and Justice (PiS) party came to power in 2015, Poland’s reputation nosedived. Once the EU’s leading economic success story, the country ceased to be viewed by its partners as offering largely constructive positions. Under its chairman, Jaroslaw Kaczynski, PiS has stripped the judiciary of its independence, smeared independent media outlets, curtailed access to legal abortion, ended state funding of in vitro fertilisation, and—as recently as last October—harassed LGBT and women’s rights activists.

Poland’s democratic backsliding came fully under the spotlight during the pandemic, when it ended up in a standoff with the European Commission over a rule-of-law requirement for receiving EU recovery funds. Poland’s government is now pursuing limited reforms designed to free up the funds that were allocated for it.

Looking ahead, one hopes that the 73-year-old Kaczynski’s influence will diminish, enabling PiS to undergo a political facelift. Many now regard Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki—a former banker and economic adviser to former Polish prime minister Donald Tusk—as being more modern, competent and independent (from Kaczynski) than his PiS predecessors. Later this year, a general election will offer a fresh opportunity for a reset and revival of democratic institutions.

Poland’s geostrategic importance is undeniable, and its response to Russia’s war of aggression has improved its international standing. With leaders who understand the nuances and complexities of dealing with Russia, it can serve as an effective broker for Central and Eastern European interests in Brussels, and for Europe’s interests in the world. But to be taken seriously, Poland must defend democratic values and freedoms at home with the same resolve it has shown in standing with Ukraine.

Making Ukrainian victory possible

Almost one year after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the war is entering a new phase. Following the failed attack on Kyiv last year and the Ukrainians’ stunning counteroffensive that liberated Kharkiv in the north and Kherson in the south, Russian President Vladimir Putin has embarked on a punitive campaign targeting civilians and energy infrastructure with drones and missiles. Stymied on the battlefield, Putin is seeking to maximise the number of Ukrainians forced to spend the northern winter in the cold and the dark.

The front line has not moved much in recent months. But the fighting remains fierce (with many casualties) and Russia seems to be preparing for a major spring offensive. The Russian economy is on a war footing, and the Kremlin propaganda machine has gone into overdrive, peddling a mix of apocalyptic threats and imperial delusions. Russia’s last independent news outlet, Meduza, and its last human-rights organisation, the Sakharov Center, are being forced to close. The mood in Moscow is defiant.

Under these circumstances, Ukraine’s allies are right to scale up their military assistance, including by providing battle tanks. The goal is for Ukraine to prevail against its aggressor. But we cannot wish for that end without giving Ukraine the means to achieve it. The alternative is a prolonged war of attrition, leading to more deaths in Ukraine, greater insecurity for Europe and continued suffering around the world (owing to Russia’s weaponisation of energy and food supplies).

Ukraine’s partners had already committed to provide advanced air defences like the US-made Patriot missile system, more capable howitzers and additional armoured combat vehicles. But before the recent big breakthrough, there was an intense debate about whether to supply tanks like the German-made Leopard 2 or the US-made M1 Abrams. I, for one, have long argued that we must provide Ukraine with the means to push Russia out. Tanks are necessary for Ukrainian forces to break through the current stalemate of trench warfare and to regain the momentum they had last year when they retook Kharkiv and Kherson.

Reaching the ‘tank agreement’ took time and intense discussions, including at the European Union Foreign Affairs Council. The breakthrough came when Germany agreed to deliver Leopard 2s, in coordination with the United States, which will provide some 30 M1 Abrams. Although delivery of these assets will take time and require intensive training and maintenance, the result is not confined to the battlefield. We have sent another powerful signal to Russia that Putin was wrong—once again—to doubt our resolve.

Of course, some will argue that more weapons will prolong the war and risk further escalation, and that diplomatic negotiations are the only solution. But while Europeans will always remain open to anyone who is serious about seeking a negotiated and just end to the war, Russia so far has made clear that it intends to persist with its war crimes. Everyone who has tried to negotiate with Putin has come back emptyhanded. Until that changes, we must conclude that the only way to end the war is to give Ukraine the means to drive out the invader.

The EU’s task, therefore, is to do everything in its power to support Ukraine. And that is what we are doing. Together with EU member-state governments, we have already mobilised €12 billion ($18.5 billion) worth of weapons and related supplies for Ukraine, €3.6 billion of which is coming from the European Peace Facility. When also accounting for macro-financial and humanitarian aid, our total support comes close to €50 billion.

The EU is now the leading provider of military training for Ukrainian personnel. Through the EU Military Assistance Mission in Poland and Germany, we are on track to have trained 15,000 troops by April, and we are prepared to double the effort and train another 15,000—including in the use of tanks such as the Leopard 2.

The EU is also working on a 10th package of sanctions, having already cut our dependence on Russian energy imports within the space of just a few months. And make no mistake: the sanctions are working. Russian oil is selling at a US$40 per barrel discount to Brent, and its daily energy revenues are expected to fall from around €800 million to €500 million after our latest measures kick in this month. The war is costing the Kremlin dearly, and these costs will only rise the longer it lasts.

Last January, just before the invasion, I visited the Donbas region and saw the front line. For obvious reasons, that trip has stuck with me. On my way back through Kyiv, Ukrainian Prime Minister Denys Shmyhal acknowledged that ‘the invasion is coming, and we know you will not come to fight on our side’. But, he hastened to ask, ‘Will you give us the weapons we need to defend ourselves?’

Frankly, I was not sure how to respond, because I did not know how strong European resolve would be. Today, the answer comes easily. Ahead of today’s EU–Ukraine Summit in Kyiv, no one doubts that Europe has risen to the occasion. Now, we must continue to give Ukraine the means to defeat the aggressor, restore its sovereignty and find its place in the European Union.

Russia-proofing Europe

Ukraine will enter 2023 with wind in its sails. Against all odds, it repelled Russia’s initial attempt to take Kyiv, then recaptured extensive territory around Kharkiv and Kherson, and inflicted heavy losses on the invading forces. Speaking just after Politico named him the most powerful person in Europe, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky sounded an optimistic note for the winter, predicting that Ukrainians would be enjoying ‘peacetime’ by next year.

Yet, as former Polish foreign minister Radek Sikorski has pointed out, it’s hard to imagine a compromise that would allow for peace. If Russian President Vladimir Putin wants Ukraine to remain ‘non-aligned’, he will have to withdraw from all Ukrainian territory, effectively admitting defeat. But that would be a non-starter for him. Similarly, Zelensky is unlikely to consider conceding any Ukrainian territory unless Ukraine is also offered NATO membership. Because these scenarios remain unlikely, there’s every reason to anticipate a protracted conflict.

With the prospect of a Russian military victory receding, Putin has been focusing on breaking the unity of the Western coalition that is supporting and supplying Ukraine. He is thus engaged in an ‘omni-conflict’ that extends beyond the battlefield to include a multi-pronged offensive against the European Union.

For example, Russian terrorist tactics in Ukraine, including recent persistent attacks on civilian infrastructure such as power plants, are obviously intended to make life in Ukraine increasingly unbearable and generate another wave of refugees leaving for EU countries. Already, 30% of Ukrainians are unemployed, and Zelensky has asked refugees not to return this winter—an ominous sign.

The 14 million Ukrainians who have been displaced this year represent the largest number of refugees in Europe since the end of World War II, and the eight million who have fled to the EU have already made the 2015 ‘refugee crisis’ look like a warm-up act. Europeans’ generosity towards Ukrainian refugees has been heartening. But will it last?

The number of refugees in Poland is so high—8% of the country’s residents were born outside of Polish territory—that some commentators now refer to it as a ‘binational country’. This transformation from a country of emigration to one of immigration will have profound consequences. Poland has already spent more than twice as much on hosting refugees than it has on providing military, financial and humanitarian aid to Ukraine. Nor is it alone. Germany, for its part, has now taken in more than a million Ukrainians.

In addition to weaponising migration, Putin will also continue to use energy supplies to weaken Western resolve, and food and fertiliser supplies to gain political leverage internationally. A recent analysis by The Economist shows that the price hikes provoked by Putin’s energy war could cause more than 100,000 excess deaths across Europe this winter, possibly exceeding total battlefield deaths so far.

Moreover, inflation, a direct result of Putin’s energy war in Europe, is likely to contribute to political instability around the world by further straining economies that were already weighed down by low growth, labour shortages and the effects of ongoing trade disputes.

To deepen the effects of his energy war, Putin will continue to use sabotage and cyberattacks to degrade critical infrastructure such as pipelines, undersea cables, railroads and communications networks. He also will step up his efforts to compete for influence and distract Western policymakers in fraught regions such as the Western Balkans, the Middle East and Africa.

The goal of all these ploys is more political than economic. Putin believes that his best—and perhaps only—path to victory lies in fragmenting the West. Through social-media disinformation and other subterfuge, the Kremlin is using all the tools at its disposal to interfere in European politics and pry open transatlantic rifts.

Transatlantic unity has been, and will remain, critical to Ukraine’s survival and European security more broadly. But it will come under increasing strain. In the United States, political forces on both the right and left are complaining about their country’s disproportionately large financial commitment to European and Ukrainian security. And there is deep disagreement about what should follow—the endgame—from Ukraine’s battlefield successes.

To confront the Kremlin’s multi-pronged assault, the EU must not only maintain its own unity, but also step up its support for Ukraine to demonstrate that Europe is not a free-rider, and it must start formulating a shared long-term Russia policy. That will not be easy, given the low trust between member states on the issue.

At a minimum, Western European countries will have to abandon the dream of building a European security architecture that includes Russia. At this point, a stable European order can be achieved only in opposition to Putin, rather than in partnership with him. At the same time, frontline countries such as Poland will need to accept that even a European security order oriented against Russia will have to maintain diplomatic channels for talks on some issues.

Escalation and diplomacy both have important roles to play in sustaining public support for aid to Ukraine and sanctions against Russia, especially in those countries that feel less directly threatened by the Kremlin. The EU needs a comprehensive policy package—addressing everything from energy and migration to critical infrastructure and domestic politics—to defend itself against Putin’s omni-conflict. Europeans came together in new ways to confront the Covid-19 crisis. Now they must do so again to develop herd immunity against Russian aggression, pressure and skulduggery.

Are Europe’s sanctions on Russian energy doing it more harm than good?

It seems obvious that sanctions—an increasingly important tool of Western foreign policy—should inflict significant pain on the target without exacting unsustainably high costs from the country imposing them. But the European Union’s sanctions on Russia—intended to punish the country for its brutal war of aggression against Ukraine—do not meet this condition.

At the centre of the EU’s plan to punish Russia is an effort to eliminate its dependence on the cheap Russian energy that long powered its growth, including by increasing its reliance on liquefied natural gas imported from the United States and elsewhere. But LNG has long been an overpriced (and carbon-intensive) alternative to piped gas: before Russia invaded Ukraine, it was four to five times more expensive. Now, it’s even more exorbitantly priced: since the war began, the cost of LNG has more than doubled.

But with the Kremlin slashing gas flows to Europe, in order to ensure that it—not the EU—dictates the timetable for phasing out Russian supplies, European countries have had little choice but to rely increasingly on LNG imports. This is creating serious challenges for Europe’s manufacturing base, to the point that some European firms are now considering shifting production to the US, which offers not only cheaper fuel, but also massive subsidies and tax credits under its new Inflation Reduction Act.

Already, Europe’s decision to turn its back on Russian gas has increased the likelihood of a deep recession. Skyrocketing gas prices—which are a staggering 14 times higher than two years ago—have fuelled inflation and destabilised eurozone financial markets. So, just when Europe’s economies are on the brink of contraction, the cost of living is spiking—and the threat of rolling power outages looms.

European policymakers’ adoption of desperate measures like price caps and regulated tariffs could well exacerbate the situation. To conserve gas, some European governments have even turned to coal. European leaders like French President Emmanuel Macron have pleaded with US President Joe Biden to ease pressure on their economies by adjusting some controversial provision in the Inflation Reduction Act. Months after an agreement to strengthen and expand NATO, transatlantic relations are beginning to fray.

The one thing the EU appears unwilling to consider is changing course on sanctions. Just this month, it imposed an embargo on imports of Russian crude and joined its G7 partners in introducing a US$60-per-barrel price cap.

Europe’s sanctions recall America’s 1930 Smoot–Hawley Tariff Act, which substantially raised import duties on more than 20,000 goods. Far from protecting US industry, the tariffs prompted other countries to retaliate, deepening the Great Depression and contributing to the rise of political extremism, especially in Europe.

Today, too, many European countries’ politics are lurching rightward. Italy’s current governing party traces its roots to Benito Mussolini’s fascist movement; likewise, the Sweden Democrats has neo-Nazi roots. In Poland and Hungary, right-wing governments show increasing authoritarian tendencies. If soaring energy prices and runaway inflation worsen economic conditions—a likely scenario in the short term—far-right forces could gain further ground across the continent.

One might be able to argue that the sanctions’ large costs were worth shouldering if they were significantly hampering Russia’s war effort. But while Russia has certainly suffered, and Ukraine has achieved some high-profile military victories, nearly a fifth of Ukrainian territory remains under Russian occupation. If the EU is enduring so much pain, while Russia’s aggression proceeds apace, sanctions become tantamount to self-flagellation. This is why moral outrage, however justified, should never drive policy.

To be sure, the EU’s international image has long rested on its reputation as a force for democracy, human rights and a rules-based order, which strengthens the case for a bold, if costly, response to Russian aggression. But, had cooler heads prevailed, it would have been obvious that a rapid transition away from Russian energy supplies would undermine the EU’s global standing by denting its sustainability credentials—the turn to coal is a case in point—and causing a global energy crisis, which is hurting poorer countries.

Given that the EU accounts for 11% of global energy consumption, its quest to secure replacement supplies was bound to disrupt the entire global economy. After all, the alternative supplies the EU secured were not idle. International oil and LNG supplies were already tight, and there was inadequate production capacity to compensate for the loss of Russian supplies.

As a result, when the EU rejected Russian energy, the world suddenly faced energy scarcity, with countries in Asia, Latin America and elsewhere losing access to some supplies on which they had previously depended. In fact, soaring European gas prices have encouraged some shippers to divert LNG cargoes from Asia to Europe.

For far too long, the EU believed that economic and trade relations could be managed without regard for foreign-policy and security considerations. The Ukraine war made that approach untenable. But that should have prompted a more considered debate about what should come next, rather than an abrupt transition away from Russian energy supplies. This was a huge decision directly bearing on Europe’s socioeconomic security; by making it rashly, the EU committed a major strategic blunder.

Russia’s actions in Ukraine are clearly both unjustified and unconscionable. But it makes little sense for Europe to respond by damaging its own competitiveness and global standing. It will take years for Europe to recover from the unprecedented energy crisis that it has helped to create.

The contradictions holding Germany back

Just days after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz declared that Germany’s approach to defence and foreign policy would undergo a Zeitenwende (epochal change). And in various commentaries and speeches since then, he has reiterated his commitment to deeper European security integration and economic coordination. Then, in September, German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock announced that the country would adopt a more values-based feminist foreign policy to defend the liberal order against autocracy.

The intended message is that Germany will abandon a foreign policy that many others have criticised as being too passive, intransigent and ambiguous. For many decades, Germany was all too willing to do business with autocrats, despite its professed commitment to a foreign policy based on European liberal values. It was a free-rider in matters of hard power and it frequently failed to consult its allies or pay due attention to their legitimate concerns. It clung to this ambiguous position because there were massive economic benefits in doing so.

From Helmut Kohl in the 1990s to Scholz today, German chancellors have consistently believed that trade policy and dialogue would improve ties with actual and potential adversaries. Defying key allies such as the United States and France, Germany fostered economic dependencies that ultimately could be used against it. By the time Russia invaded Ukraine, Vladimir Putin had an iron grip on Germany’s natural-gas supply, and by the time Xi Jinping succeeded in turning China into a de facto dictatorship, Germany’s massive export sector had become critically dependent on China.

Is the current German government serious about adopting a more assertive and less ambiguous foreign policy? Unfortunately, the early evidence suggests otherwise. The same old gap between Germany’s stated aspirations and its actions remains. After announcing support for Ukraine, the government has been slow in granting military and logistical aid, and its promised strengthening of the Bundeswehr (armed forces) is already far behind schedule.

And by moving unilaterally to soften the blow from higher energy prices, Germany is increasingly isolated within the European Union. This lack of consultation has increased Franco-German tensions to a worrying degree.

As for the values-based feminist foreign policy, Baerbock’s office already failed its first test by being too slow to respond to the women-led protests in Iran. And Scholz added to the ambiguity of Germany’s position with his visit to China this month. He said his goal was to convince China to pressure Russia not to use nuclear weapons. But if that was really the point of the visit, why did he also bring a host of German corporate executives with him?

More broadly, why has Germany constantly managed to alienate its closest allies while going soft on adversarial powers like Russia and China? I see four interrelated reasons. First, there is Germany’s lack of long-term strategic thinking in foreign policy, which blinded it to a fundamental rule of geopolitics: conditions can—and often do—change radically.

Until Putin’s attack on Ukraine earlier this year, Germany had no ‘plan B’. It had scarcely even considered the possibility that there might be some alternative to the post-Cold War dispensation of endless economic globalisation driving the spread of liberal values and democracy. The German foreign ministry remained beholden to groupthink through the rise of Trumpism, illiberal democracy, Russian bellicosity and a thoroughly autocratic China.

The second reason is the close connection between German corporate interests and German foreign policy. It is only a slight exaggeration to say that what Germany calls its foreign policy is in fact primarily a trade policy. That is how it ended up so precariously dependent on Russian energy and exports to China. The governments of Gerhard Schröder and Angela Merkel were pushed that way by corporate interests.

It was German big business that wanted the Nord Stream 2 pipeline, with its promise of cheap Russian gas, and it is German exporters that have made the country even more dependent on the Chinese economy than on Russia. Some of the same corporations that want Russian gas shipments to recommence also had representatives traveling with Scholz to Beijing, with chemical giant BASF as a prime exemplar. The German government’s unhealthy proximity to big business consistently compromises its other commitments to national and European interests.

The third factor is the ‘permacrisis’ phenomenon. After coming to power a year ago, the Scholz government had no time to get into operating mode and start implementing the reforms outlined in the coalition agreement—many of which were meant to overcome the inertia of the Merkel years.

Instead, the government has been dealing with the Covid-19 pandemic, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the energy crisis, the influx of a million refugees, inflation, a slowing economy, infrastructure problems, lagging digitalisation and demands by Poland for World War II reparations. Overburdened and lacking the capacity to handle so many crises at once, Germany’s government has failed to stay on top of more routine diplomatic matters, such as coordinating weapons procurement with France.

Last, Germany has a complex, fragile coalition government that is often working at cross purposes, having been forged under the fairer-weather conditions of late 2021. Plodding debates among various sub-coalitions are delaying decisions, frustrating German voters and allies abroad, and often producing bad results.

The three main ministries involved are headed by the two coalition parties that have the least in common. With the Greens leading the foreign and economics ministries, and the Free Democrats leading the finance ministry, coordination failures have been legion. These factors were evident in the move to cap gas prices, Scholz’s trip to China and energy purchases at high prices, which crowded out other European countries.

Once again, Germany is showing a troubling lack of both empathy to allies and boldness to adversaries. There can be no Zeitenwende without both.

Italy’s new government won’t be ‘fascist’, but it will face major challenges

On 25 September, Italy went to the polls and elected a record number of far-right members of parliament. As a result, the leader of the largest party in the winning coalition, Giorgia Meloni, is expected to form a government later this month. If that happens, it will be a first for two reasons: the country will have its first far-right government since the end of World War II and its first government led by a woman.

Since these unusual characteristics apply to a G7 nation with the world’s eighth-largest economy—right in the middle of an international crisis—observers are understandably worried. While doubts abound, I’ll focus on two key aspects: the so-called risk of fascism and the foreign-policy challenges of Rome’s new government.

A far-right government, not a fascist one

Dozens of catchy headlines suggest that Rome may soon have its first ‘fascist government’ since the dark days of Benito Mussolini. Sure, Meloni herself praised the country’s dictator multiple times in her younger days. Several high-profile members of Meloni’s party, Fratelli d’Italia (Brothers of Italy), share a common past among the ranks of post-fascist organisations, and indeed the party itself rose from the ashes of a former post-fascist party, whose controversial symbol (a tricolour flame) it still bears today.

However, cries of fascism are thoroughly exaggerated, due to a number of internal and external factors.

Domestically, Meloni’s far-right coalition rests on tenuous ground. The three key parties have different views on a number of vital issues (including sanctions against Russia, which Meloni supports, unlike the two other coalition parties), and there would be no parliamentary majority if any of the three left the government.

On top of that, keeping the coalition’s electoral promises would be far too costly, and the necessity to ditch many of the proposed reforms would likely impair governmental stability, which, after all, has never been a feature of Italian politics (the country has had 67 governments in the past 76 years).

That said, Italy has a number of checks and balances that would avert any serious risk to democracy. The president of the republic acts as a guarantor of the constitution and has significant powers to that end; the Constitutional Court oversees the admissibility of all laws; and the political opposition and civil society as a whole continue to remain vigilant.

But there are many external constraints as well, since Rome has countless high-profile international engagements that inevitably influence the direction of any new government.

Italy is a founding member and a top-10 donor of many international organisations, whose prearranged obligations prevent substantial deviations from the commitments set by previous administrations—a condition known as path dependence.

It is also the number one peacekeeper of the global north, in terms of both the number of missions it leads and the number of troops it deploys. This strong commitment to the rules-based order would be virtually impossible to relinquish during the average lifespan of an Italian government (1.7 years, since 2000).

And as much as the winning coalition campaigned for regressive social policies with an abrasive rhetoric, its ability (and perhaps real willingness) to make substantial changes is limited, and so dark words like ‘fascism’ have no place in this case.

Rome’s new foreign and security policy challenges

The first major foreign policy challenge for the new government will be Italy’s military expenditure, which will rise from 1.5% to 2% of the country’s sizeable GDP ($3.3 trillion in 2021) in six years. It will have to partially decide where to allocate the large extra funds while avoiding unproductive expenses.

Within the EU, Meloni and her allies will have to demonstrate that they can effectively lead the union’s third-largest economy and second-largest manufacturer and continue to consolidate the country’s public finances. Much of Italy’s huge post-Covid-19 recovery plan, which is worth around $340 billion, depends on this.

Close to home, a volatile Mediterranean remains a significant concern, exacerbated by the ongoing Libyan civil war, very strong flows of irregular maritime arrivals (71,000 in the first nine months of 2022) and regional rivalries with France, Turkey and Egypt.

Further away from Italian shores, but still inside its Mediterraneo allargato (enlarged Mediterranean) sphere of interest, Italy’s numerous trade routes and peacekeeping missions provide ongoing strategic challenges, including the key NATO mission in Iraq that Italy has commanded since May.

In addition, the ‘enlarged Mediterranean’, which stretches to the Arabian Sea, is witnessing a growing Chinese presence through Beijing’s ‘Maritime Silk Road’ and Russian military presence through its bases in Syria, further complicating Rome’s deployments under multilateral and unilateral missions aimed at strengthening the rules-based order.

And, finally, Italy is quietly focusing on the Indo-Pacific, by virtue of its long-term engagement in the Western Indian Ocean and recent partnerships with ASEAN, India, Indonesia, South Korea and Vietnam. How Rome will engage with the world’s geopolitical and geoeconomic epicentre—and its many potential flashpoints—will be a substantial test for the new government.

Overall, these challenges will put much pressure over the new Italian administration, which could seek not to fail by maintaining existing foreign policy postures—although we can also expect occasional controversial measures (especially when it comes to trying to stem irregular maritime arrivals). Should political divisions continue to worsen due to domestic and foreign policy divergences, however, Italian politics could always play its time-tested trick and change yet another government.

EU looks to Australia for help on fighting foreign interference

Members of a European Parliament committee examining foreign interference and economic coercion are urging the creation by the world’s democracies of a permanent system to share anti-coercion practices and information on threats.

Australia would be a key part of such a network, Raphael Glucksmann, a French member of the EU Parliament, told The Strategist.

The delegation, tasked with identifying and measuring the threat Europe is facing and mapping out a response to it, was in Canberra yesterday for talks with ministers and government officials and a roundtable discussion with ASPI.

Glucksmann said the group was going to like-minded democracies confronted with the same kind of threats and seeing how they handled them. ‘Australia is at the forefront of this fight against foreign interference, so we came here to study your legislation, your practices, to understand how you are fighting foreign interference,’ he said.

That included ways to screen foreign investment in strategic infrastructure, dealing with disinformation and examining how universities are targeted.

Ideas from Australia would be used to strengthen a European model.

To this end, Australia had developed not just legislation, but a practice, Glucksmann said. ‘It’s very useful for us, is this coordination. It’s the fact that it’s a whole-of-government approach, and also to a certain extent a whole-of-society approach. And this is key for us. We don’t have the same institutions in Europe, and I think that’s something we should bring back to our countries and to the Europe Union in general.’

The delegation has briefed Australian representatives on measures already taken in Europe such as rules for screening foreign direct investment and the EU’s General Data Protection Regulation system and Digital Markets Act.

For Europe, the main actor in foreign interference was Russia, while for Australia it was China, Glucksmann said.

‘We also have Chinese interference in Europe. Even if they don’t have the same strategy exactly, and the same methods, both are authoritarian regimes, aiming at undermining liberal democracies, so the fight is common.’

Both were practising state capture, or the ‘buying’ of former ministers and politicians and top bureaucrats through their purportedly private companies which were, in fact, part of the state system.

‘For Russia, the aim is clearly to polarise and destabilise European democracy,’ Glucksmann said. In Spain, for instance, that was attempted by Russia supporting opposite ends of the political spectrum, those seeking independence for Catalonia and nationalists in the Vox party.

‘It might look contradictory, unless you understand that their strategy is chaos, the Russian strategy; absolute chaos, that is the goal,’ said Glucksmann.

China was trying to increase its investment in critical infrastructure in several European countries.

‘It’s an increasingly aggressive actor, not to the level of Russia yet, but still quite worrying.’

China’s People’s Liberation Army was sending personnel to the best European universities to study science and technology so that they could add value to Chinese technology and its military effort, Glucksmann said. Europe didn’t want its universities to become dependent on the income from Chinese students as had happened in Australia.

Awareness was growing in Europe about the economic pressure Beijing applied to Australia over the past two years, he said. That understanding increased after China’s treatment of Lithuania over its relationship with Taiwan.

When Estonia was subjected to extensive cyberattacks by Russia, it warned that other European nations would be attacked in turn. ‘The Estonians told us to be careful because it’s a laboratory for what’s going on next, and nobody listened to them. What they told was the absolute truth and it came to other countries next.’

Glucksmann said the committee’s job was to be alert to the fact that the pressures applied to Australia and Lithuania could be applied to any other like-minded democracy and it was important for such countries to show solidarity.

‘Australian solidarity with Ukraine now, even if it’s far away, it’s showing us the path.’

Many in Europe did not take the foreign interference threat seriously until Russian President Vladimir Putin’s 24 February invasion of Ukraine: ‘a full-scale war on European soil’.

The committee’s first report came out a few days after the war began, Glucksmann said. ‘It’s amazing how quickly our recommendations were taken seriously. I’m sure that without the invasion, we would have been like cats and dogs shouting in the emptiness.’

European nations were already subjected to a form of hybrid warfare from Russia with cyberattacks on hospitals during the Covid-19 pandemic, attacks on public institutions, attempts to corrupt leaders and financing of political parties.

‘It’s not open war, we don’t have military confrontation, but it’s not peace either. It’s a state of conflict that should not, and will not, because of nuclear deterrence, materialise in an open military confrontation.’

This was part of an international conflict, Glucksmann said. ‘And the truth is that we didn’t want it; we even did everything we could not to accept and delayed and postponed, and found ways not to see what we had in front of us.’

Russia was applying pressure on European nations to reduce their support for Ukraine. Political parties that received Russian funding were now loudly supporting Putin’s war.

Russia had weakened the EU by supporting the Brexit campaign in the UK, Glucksmann said.

While they had different views on authoritarian systems, European nations had to be aware that they must never be fully dependent in any area on China.

Russia and China were out to change the international order and eliminate democracy.

‘We are facing the same threat,’ Glucksmann said. At an international level they set out to change the meaning of human rights. ‘They go inside our democracies, to use our problems, to exacerbate them and to wreak havoc in our democracy.’

Their goal was to ensure the democracies no longer functioned and gave way to authoritarian regimes.

In the days before Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, China’s Xi Jinping and Putin demonstrated their common purpose by signing an agreement to work together.

‘Our response should be common, and it should be swift, because otherwise we are not winning this battle.’