Designing Democracy: EU Enlargement and Regime Change in Post-Communist Europe

Designing Democracy EU Enlargement and Regime Change in Post-Communist Europe Geoffrey Pridham Designing Democracy ...

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Designing Democracy EU Enlargement and Regime Change in Post-Communist Europe

Geoffrey Pridham

Designing Democracy

Also by Geoffrey Pridham BUILDING DEMOCRACY? The International Dimension of Democratisation in Eastern Europe (co-editor with E. Herring and G. Sanford) THE DYNAMICS OF DEMOCRATISATION: A Comparative Approach EXPERIMENTING WITH DEMOCRACY: Regime Change in the Balkans (co-editor with T. Gallagher) PROSPECTS FOR DEMOCRATIC CONSOLIDATION IN EAST-CENTRAL EUROPE (co-editor with A. Ágh)

Designing Democracy EU Enlargement and Regime Change in Post-Communist Europe Geoffrey Pridham Professor of European Politics University of Bristol

© Geoffrey Pridham 2005 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 author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published in 2005 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: 978–1–4039–0318–1 ISBN-10: 1–4039–0318–2 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Pridham, Geoffrey, 1942– Designing democracy : E.U. enlargement and regime change in post-communist Europe / Geoffrey Pridham. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1–4039–0318–2 1. Democratization – Europe, Eastern. 2. Europe, Eastern – Politics and government – 1989– 3. European Union – Membership. 4. European Union – Europe, Eastern. 5. Post-communism – Europe, Eastern. I. Title. JN96.A58P75 2005 320.94⬘097171⬘709049—dc22 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 14 13 12 11 10 09 08 07 06 05 Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

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Contents Preface

vii

1 Theoretical Perspectives on European Enlargement and Democratisation 1.1 The democratising effects of European integration 1.2 Focussing on international factors in democratisation: historical and conceptual perspectives 1.3 EU enlargement and post-Communist democratisation: theoretical approaches 1.4 EU enlargement and democratisation: an interactive approach 2 The EU’s Conditionality Strategy: its Development before and after the Fall of Communism 2.1 Expanding the democracy test: the EU in context 2.2 The EEC/EC and democracy requirements: reluctant conditionality 2.3 Formulating the EU’s conditionality in the post-Communist period: a case of bureaucratic incrementalism 2.4 Applying the EU’s political conditions: from formality to reality 2.5 Designing democracy in Central and Eastern Europe 3 EU Enlargement, Democratisation and Domestic Politics in Post-Communist Europe: Patterns and Problems of Motivation 3.1 Comparative perspectives on the domestic politics of EU accession 3.2 Motivation and domestic politics in past enlargements 3.3 Political commitment and elite understanding in post-Communist accession countries 3.4 The ‘return to Europe’ and the four imperatives 3.5 Motivation and democratisation in post-Communist Europe 4 Post-Communist Accession Governments: Policy Orientation, Institutional Adjustment and Implementing Democratic Conditionality 4.1 Europeanisation and democratic governance 4.2 Democratisation and external policy reorientation

v

1 1 3 11 22 25 25 29 35 51 60

63 63 69 78 84 95

97 97 100

vi

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4.3 EU accession, institutional adjustment and reform of the state 4.4 Post-Communist governments and implementing the EU’s political conditions: efficiency or democracy? 4.5 Better democratic governance? 5 The Political Arena and Intermediary Actors in Candidate Countries: Political Parties, Opinion-makers and Public Impacts 5.1 Intermediary actors and enlargement politics 5.2 Political parties as domestic actors in the accession process 5.3 Political parties as transnational actors in the accession process 5.4 Opinion-makers and public impacts during EU enlargement 5.5 Intermediary actors and conditionality effects

115 130 142

145 145 147 164 174 187

6 The Socio-economic Arena and Deepening Democracy: Economic Transformation, Civil Society and Ethnic Minorities in Candidate Countries 6.1 European integration and the socio-economic arena 6.2 EU accession and economic transformation 6.3 EU accession, civil society and minority rights 6.4 Deepening democracy in accession countries?

191 191 194 203 216

Conclusion: Europeanisation and Democratisation – Convergent, Parallel or Conflicting Processes?

219

Notes

230

Sources and Selected Bibliography

263

Index

278

Preface This book draws on research carried out for a Leverhulme Fellowship for twoand-a-half years during 2002–04. I wish to acknowledge this support from the Leverhulme Trust which allowed me to take generous time out to visit selected countries from Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) during the final stage of their accession process before joining the European Union (EU) in the spring of 2004. But it is also based on earlier research on the same theme of the European Union’s democratic conditionality for a University Fellowship from Bristol University during 2000–01, with field trip costs met by a research grant from the Nuffield Foundation. My original empirical interest in this theme arose in the mid-1990s as an outcome of an ESRC funded project under its East/West Change Programme with work on the then difficult case of Slovakia and its complicated relations with the European Union (EU) over the latter’s political conditions. Research has thus been able to follow the application of the EU’s democratic conditionality during the whole of the accession period including the membership negotiations. However, the theme of this book also derives from long-standing research and intellectual interests. Having worked for two decades on democratic transition and democratic consolidation, both theoretically and empirically on Southern Europe, a special concern grew with the role and influence of international factors in regime change. For example, I coordinated a team project on Southern Europe for the Centre for Mediterranean Studies (CMS) at Bristol University. The results of this were published as Encouraging Democracy: the International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (1991). A similar project on Central and Eastern Europe together with colleagues at the Department of Politics at Bristol University followed half a decade later. In the course of time, this general interest in international factors became focussed on democratic conditionality of the EU which had by now become a more important policy approach. But there is an even longer intellectual interest behind this present work which comes from a wish to help bridge the academic disciplinary gap between international affairs and comparative politics (conventionally focussed on domestic developments). Most of all, this has been reflected in my particular angle on European integration studies, namely linkages wih domestic politics and especially the effects of transnational party cooperation on national party systems. Work on the latter switched a decade ago to looking at applicant countries rather than member states of the EU. The principal intellectual aim of this research on democratic conditionality has been to move the study of international factors in democratisation away from the discussion of probabilities into evaluating actual impacts on vii

viii Preface

regime change, using comparative tools and empirical research especially through elite interviews. The political conditions of the EU as they were elaborated in the 1990s represented the strongest example of such conditionality because of their specificity, the regular monitoring of candidate countries not to mention the leverage enjoyed by Brussels because of the prize of EU membership if these countries satisfied those conditions. Note has been taken, where necessary, of parallel conditionality exercised by other international organisations while concentrating on the paramount example of the EU. The focus has therefore been mainly on the domestic systems of candidate countries in CEE from Chapter 3 and especially in the last three chapters (4–6) – the second half of this book – on the different levels of these systems: governmental, intermediary (the political arena) and the socio-economic arena. In the first half, Chapter 1 sets out the theoretical concerns and develops the interactive approach applied throughout the book; Chapter 2 discusses the evolution of the EU’s democratic conditionality and that of its predecessors; while Chapter 3 presents a comparative discussion of the domestic politics of EU accession and analyses problems of motivation on the part of applicant states. The decision to concentrate on candidate countries came from the wish to see through the effects of conditionality to the end of the accession process with the achievement of EU membership. This made it possible to research the theme of the dynamics of enlargement as driving the implementation of conditionality. However, it is recognised that a more diverse picture of problems in meeting the EU’s political conditions would come from comparing the most advanced candidate states with some CEECs that failed to be invited to negotiate (as indeed Slovakia was in 1997 precisely on these grounds) or were still struggling to win favour in Brussels as future candidate countries. To some extent, this diversity is satisfied when looking at the earlier responses to conditionality of some countries selected for this book. While the chapters are comparatively written, there has nevertheless been a selection of case studies from CEE for in-depth work. The project funded by the Nuffield Foundation covered five such countries (Slovakia, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Romania and Bulgaria); while that for the Leverhulme Fellowship initially chose the three countries of Slovakia, the Czech Republic and Romania and later added Latvia. Clearly, the selection of country case studies has been determined with sub-regional representation in CEE in mind. These countries were chosen for the purpose of conducting an extensive programme of elite interviews which have been the main primary source although official documentation both from the EU and the candidate countries has been used as well as reports and studies from policy institutes. These interviews are listed at the end in the note on Sources and Selected Bibliography, the latter containing a selection from the books and articles cited in references in the different chapters.

Preface ix

Finally, I would like to express appreciation for all the help from and informed discussions with, over these research years, academic colleagues from the UK and the accession countries as well as practitioners in the world of enlargement and democratic conditionality whether at conferences or seminars – when critical and helpful comments were forthcoming on earlier draft versions of sections of this book – or in the more stately surroundings of government or parliamentary offices. In particular, I would like to thank the following for regular conversations and suggestions during my many visits: John Fitzmaurice and Geoff Harris in Brussels; Lykke Andersen, Vladimír Bileík, Pavol Demes, Olga Gyárfásová, Grigorij Meseznikov, Tom Nicholson, Andrej Skolkay, Sona Szomolányi and Michael Winfrey in Bratislava; Florin Lupescu in Bucharest; Attila Ágh in Budapest; Vladimír Handl and Vladimír Leska in Prague; and Michael Lake when in Bristol. Also, I wish to acknowledge generally the lengthy discussions I had in both Brussels and the various CEE capitals with elite interview respondents, who gave generously of their time. All of them are listed at the end of the book in the note on Sources. David Coombes, who had worked in two post-Communist countries for the United Nations Development Programme, kindly read and commented on the drafts of Chapter 4 and the Conclusion. And, last but not least, Vieda Skultans gave encouraging support throughout the writing of this book.

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1 Theoretical Perspectives on European Enlargement and Democratisation

1.1 The democratising effects of European integration It has for long been held that European integration facilitates, encourages and promotes democratic consolidation in countries engaging with it and undergoing regime change. This belief is widely held in EU institutions and among governments and parties of member states as well as among political and economic elites in states seeking admission to the EU. It is particularly evident in the political rhetoric of leaders on both sides. And, there is a historical pattern behind such a view. The ruling elites in postwar West Germany saw the emerging European unity as not only a framework for turning away from the discredited recent Nazi past but also for helping to secure the country’s, then still fragile, new parliamentary democracy for the future. Top figures from the Southern European new democracies in the 1970s, notably Constantine Karamanlis of Greece, took a similar view. And, more recently, leaders from countries in Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) have contended, as with Gyula Horn, that European integration means ‘hope for the strengthening of Hungarian democracy, the guarantee of national independence and our international security’.1 Thus, the European Union (EU), following its predecessors in the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), the European Economic Community (EEC) and the European Community (EC), has become commonly regarded as the prime benefactor of new democracies in Europe. The beneficial effects of European integration for the consolidation of new democracies have also featured in the academic literature on transitology. However, such effects have invariably been seen as gradual and long term as a result of actual membership. Thus, full membership of the EU, in Laurence Whitehead’s summary, generates powerful, broad-based and long-term support for the establishment of democratic institutions because it is irreversible, and sets in train a cumulative process of economic and political integration that offers 1

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incentives and reassurances to a very wide array of social … forces. In other words it sets in motion a very complex and profound set of mutual adjustment processes, both within the incipient democracy and in its interactions with the rest of the Community, nearly all of which tend to favour democratic consolidation. … In the long run such ‘democracy by convergence’ may well prove [to be] the most decisive international dimension of democratisation, but the EU has yet to prove that case fully.2 This argument is taken further by Philippe Schmitter who concluded on the same theme that more than any other international commitment, full EU membership has served to stabilise both political and economic expectations. It does not directly guarantee the consolidation of democracy; it indirectly makes it easier for national actors to agree within a narrower range of rules and practices.3 Both statements express some caution about the actual effects of European integration, although they are essentially optimistic about the outcome for democratisation. The common theme is that of locking still relatively new democracies into an institutionalised international framework based on a permanent process of European unity. But, while agreeing with this general hypothesis concerning the beneficial effects of European integration, some qualifications are necessary; and these have a general bearing on international factors in democratisation. First, integration effects cannot be only long term although, conceivably, their deeper impact may well be. Democratic consolidation admittedly takes some time to be achieved – in the view of some transitologists, a couple of decades if not longer, depending on the case in question. But it is also quite possible that integration effects on democratisation emerge much earlier if not from the start of that process, thus impacting too on democratic transition. We thus have to consider the lengthy pre-accession period which includes both extensive negotiations for membership and also, before then, enveloping integration effects especially of a commercial and transnational kind that may commence in the early days. In this period, we are talking about new democracies which are still vulnerable, probably at a formative stage and far from consolidated. The question then is whether European integration mainly fortifies an already positive development in a country’s democratisation or whether, more decisively, it tips the balance between positive and negative dynamics both of which are commonly present in unconsolidated democracies. Second, it cannot always be maintained that integration effects are automatically positive given the considerable pressures deriving from accession. Still fragile new democracies have to undertake a crippling overload of

Theoretical Perspectives and Democratisation 3

implementing change through having to meet the economic conditions and adopt the now vast acquis communautaire. Moreover, increasing evidence within the EU itself of a strengthening of executive and bureaucratic power at the cost of popular involvement may well, when applied to accession countries, widen the already somewhat controversial gap between elites and mass publics and hence strain the legitimacy of their new democracies. The ‘democratic deficit’, now an issue of increasing concern among EU member states, may be exported to countries demanding admission and willing without argument to adjust to the elaborate terms of membership. This may be at some cost to their democratisation or, at least, to the quality of the democracies they are constructing. Thus, the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation may be more complicated than assumed in the general literature on transitology. Finally, it should be noted that academic work in this field has rarely or only recently turned to evaluating actual integration impacts on democratisation either in terms of specific effects or by way of case studies to test the depth of such externally promoted change.4 It is necessary to develop this approach systematically by focussing on interactions between domestic and external factors. This is more possible now there is recognition of the need to move on from generalising about the international context of democratisation to demonstrating its particular influences and their consequences.5 In doing so, the concern should be with identifying and investigating both the areas of scope for EU influence and the limitations on this as a context to such analysis. Altogether, the assumption about European integration as democratisation’s benefactor raises many pertinent questions that remain to be answered regarding how, when and why. To pursue these further we first consider historical perspectives on and conceptual approaches to international factors in democratisation studies, as an introduction to discussing EU enlargement, and then review theoretical perspectives on the EU and its relationship with democratisation – drawing on regime change and integration theories – as well as specifically democratic conditionality. In this way, the interactive approach of this study is developed.

1.2 Focussing on international factors in democratisation: historical and conceptual perspectives As a rule, historical evidence has substantiated as well as exemplified the impact of international influences in political change as well as providing new insights and inside information on the course of events. This has applied not only to postwar Europe – where the Cold War and its chief exponents had a determining influence on regime change after Fascism – but also to Latin America, where the United States of America (USA) habitually intervened in domestic politics though not always in favour of supporting

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democratic regimes. Or, if Washington did so, then security interests were to the fore and democracy promotion a nervous secondary motive. In the Southern European democratisations from the mid-1970s, on which historical work is beginning to appear, external factors were perhaps less blatant but nonetheless decisive at key moments, whether in directly stimulating the shift to transition (as the colonial wars in Portugal and the invasion of Cyprus in Greece) or in affecting the substance of transition politics (as the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation [NATO] issue as well as EU pressures in Greece and Spain). In particular, the external environment provided a supportive framework for eventual democratic consolidation through membership in the EC. More often than not, the broad picture of events has been confirmed by historical research while enlightening details on motives, manoeuvres and sometimes surprises have emerged. Most importantly, as we shall see, historical evidence contests the traditional view in comparative work on regime change that international factors are at best of second-order importance and essentially subordinate to if not dependent on domestic change factors. The work of historians simply shows that such bald assumptions rarely carry empirical weight if only because close analysis with documentary and other sources reveals interactions between external impacts and domestic responses as too complex an area to support this explanation. Moreover, cross-national diversity may be considerable with international factors playing a decisive, if not crucial, role in some cases and a weak or peripheral role in others. Apart from that lesson, three historical perspectives may be utilised for our purposes. First, it is helpful to periodise the analysis. In general, the state of international relations may vary over time notwithstanding continuity in the types of external actors. For instance, the inception of the Cold War in Europe at the time when Italy and West Germany were embarking on postFascist democratisation was far more unsettling as an international context than that surrounding the Southern European transitions a generation later when East–West relations were stabilising through detente. Again, the postCommunist democratisations have occurred when international relations have themselves been in the process of being reconfigured. The end to Iron Curtain structures, the effects from the launching of many new states in Europe not to mention the experience of wars in the former Yugoslavia and the outbreak of regional centres of international tension have all made for a new international instability and helped to account for the sometimes close connection between security demands and regime change. Time contexts therefore matter in understanding the salience and influence of international factors in democratisation, although they tend to caution against an overall diachronic and perhaps incremental progression when comparing successive sets of democratisations in a given region like Europe. Second, however, it is clear that international factors have for certain reasons had a more pervasive and diverse impact but also enjoyed more


institutionalised channels in the 1990s and beyond than before. International and transnational mechanisms and networks for multilateral cooperation have increased and developed markedly. And, they tend to be more interventionist in the post-Cold War context, especially with reference to good governance and democratic standards. This also goes for international financial institutions as well as more obvious international organisations with a political mission. One significant feature to note in this respect is the changed balance between hard security interests and the promotion of democracy. The former enjoyed greater priority during the Cold War especially on the part of the USA but the collapse of Communist systems has relaxed, somewhat security policy considerations allowing greater scope for the latter. The ‘war against terrorism’ has of course raised security concerns again but this time they have been linked by the USA with ‘regime change’ in non-democratic settings such as Afghanistan and – controversially – Iraq. In recent times, global actors have indeed come more to the fore and only illustrate the limitations of the power of the state especially in economic affairs; while developments in new technology have undoubtedly added to the internationalisation of public affairs as well as private communications. Only recently has the internet come to be recognised as playing a significant and new part in events related to democratisation.6 Pro-democracy regime change has itself been a major development not least as it has become a worldwide phenomenon and not one, as before, confined to a few countries in one particular region at a certain point of time. Altogether, therefore, the international environment is more embracing of democracy and in more diverse ways than in any previous period in postwar Europe. Third, the process of European integration has continued to expand and to some extent deepen. Its policy concerns have enlarged to engage with virtually all identifiable sectors of public activity and interest. Its dictates and requirements have become, over time, more overtly political although political motivation was always evident in the economic content of its policy concerns. And, not least through its previous enlargements, it has acquired more international weight and presence than ever before. These developments are well demonstrated by the greater and more demanding political conditions placed on accession countries but also now member states (with the Amsterdam Treaty of 1997 and the EU Constitution). During the 1990s, the EU and its member states developed an extensive portfolio of support mechanisms for the new democracies to the East, while articulating a more precise and insistent form of democratic conditionality. Their capacity for democracy-building is far more extensive and influential than was the case with the Southern European new democracies only two decades earlier. It follows that EU enlargement to the East, compared with accessions during previous decades, is both more demanding and more likely to affect profoundly countries seeking membership. In the case of the transitions in CEE, the EU has also played a more prominent role from early days. This

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took the form of managing international aid programmes, such as the Poland and Hungary Action for the Reconstruction of the Economy (PHARE) Programme launched in 1989, regular coordination with other international organisations and the active pursuit of the three aims of supporting the CEE countries’ movement to a market economy, pluralist democracy and international integration.7 This change has even more scope for influencing such countries if, as is the case with post-Communist ones, they are still undergoing multiple transformations – economic as well as political, if not also through state- and nation-building. The broad thrust of historical experience, especially of more recent trends in the role of international factors, is rather at variance with conventional academic thinking over the establishment of new democracies. Regime change theory’s main merit is that, as a virtual sub-field of comparative politics, it has some relevance for exploring the domestic dimension of EU enlargement and mapping the processes of domestic change in this context. But theoretical work on democratisation has in the past notoriously neglected the importance of international factors, despite the recognition by some in this field of the basic effects of European integration. This is a deficiency belatedly recognised largely as a result of events since 1989 in CEE insisting on this.8 But little has been done to develop mechanisms for exploring their salience and actual impact. The reasons for this lie partly in turning a blind eye towards historical evidence but more, in particular, in those approaches in comparative politics that have persisted in viewing external influences as essentially secondary at best, if not largely peripheral, to the transition game based in and mainly played out in the domestic arena. Broad explanations of democratic change long held on to the view that domestic factors dominated in regime change,9 even though comparative theorising about democratisation was strongly influenced by the experience of Latin America and Southern Europe where international impacts were only too evident. Sadly in democratisation studies there has been little real exchange of ideas between historians and transitologists (and consolidologists). This is unfortunate as historians have much to contribute empirically, and insightfully, to the study of international factors in political change although – admittedly – they tend not to conceptualise along lines familiar to transitologists.10 Essentially, this neglect of international factors lies in the standard approach of academic disciplines and methodologies. Regime change theory derived from sociological and then comparativepolitical provenance.11 Conventional approaches in comparative politics have usually seen the international arena as primarily a backdrop to what ‘really’ matters which is governance domestically defined. And, therefore, notions of regime change have proceeded on the implicit and sometimes stated notion that the dynamic focus of transition from authoritarian rule remains the domestic arena although international factors or events were acknowledged as occasionally decisive.


Furthermore, much theorising about regime change from the 1970s was primarily about democratic transition. Since transition is usually a brief period, this tended to highlight international events as ad hoc occurrences within that short time frame but usually to the neglect of longer-term international developments with a more persistent influence. The latter admittedly entered discussion about democratic consolidation, but then it goes without saying that international factors should be a principal component of the consolidation process – more than ever before in our interdependent world. The question is how to treat them conceptually and analytically. The habit of combining all external factors in one conceptual basket (usually called the international dimension) has not only not failed to do justice to such factors – which are highly diverse – but has inhibited their analysis. It has furthermore encouraged an artificial distinction between the domestic and the international which has been harmful to assessing reality where the two intermix often routinely but sometimes quite powerfully. As a consequence, the treatment of international factors has tended to be rather broad and imprecise. Different regime change theories may be classified showing their various merits and defects with respect to international factors. As a whole, they tend for post-Communist democratisations to suffer from a narrowness of focus neglecting, for example, historical influences and legacies much highlighted as a theme after 1989. Such influences often help to determine the chances of countries in transition as well as the duration of the consolidation process. In particular, these theories provide limited scope for exploring CEE’s multiple transformations and how these may affect democratisation, since they were largely constructed on the basis of Luso-Hispanic experience in Southern Europe and Latin America where the concern was mainly democratisation alone.12 But while they obviously hold no particular brief for explaining European integration, some of their approaches may be adapted for that purpose. Genetic theories have emphasised the unpredictability of the transition process and the importance of political choice by key actors. While conceivably this approach should be open to considering international influences, especially perhaps ad hoc events in regime change, in practice its concern for ‘political crafting’, the role of elite pacts and path-dependent analysis have dwelt – sometimes exclusively – on domestic trajectories of change, while in effect concentrating on democratic transition. On the other hand, functionalist theories, which have looked to socio-economic development as enhancing democracy’s chances, suggested an avenue for exploring the international context, although this was not as such advanced to any particular degree. Przeworski has however drawn attention to the process of modernisation through internationalisation with respect to postCommunist states’ strategies of adopting forms of organisation (democracy, market economies and consumption-oriented culture) already existing

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elsewhere in the advanced capitalist world.13 Clearly, this modernisation theme may be adopted with reference to EU accession. More recently, the globalisation literature has drawn attention to internationalising effects in productive processes and capital markets and the liberalisation of trade barriers. It has also emphasised the decline in state authority, the consequent increase in political opportunities for international organisations and the expansion in transnational forces – all of which raise important issues about how these might impact on domestic change in the light of European integration. Transnational theories on regime change have in a different way acknowledged the importance of the international context by virtue of identifying ‘waves’ of democratisation, where clearly room is allowed for individual transitions in the same period and geographical area to impact on each other.14 This approach has generated different concepts along similar lines like ‘demonstration effect’ (setting an example or precedent for successful transition), ‘contagion’ (a more diffuse form of this), ‘control’ (promotion of democracy by one country in another with use of sanctions) and ‘consent’ (the generation through international processes of new democratic norms) but also – elaborating on the ‘wave’ syndrome – ‘diffusion’ and ‘emulation’.15 Some of these have a vague relevance for integration effects and especially those emanating from the same regional environment. However, the difficulty lies in applying these concepts as a means for estimating cause and effect. Furthermore, they tend to suggest one-way effects rather than interactive forms of influence. Rather different, however, are the concepts of ‘convergence’ and ‘conditionality’ which have a more direct and appreciable meaning for integration and EU accession in particular. They tend to point towards democratic consolidation and they also provide a notional means for exploring interactions between external effects and domestic developments. Furthermore, they highlight the need to focus on the regional context, which is now increasingly recognised as the most effective international context in which external impacts and influences may be identified and measured.16 Convergence underlines gradual movement in system conformity based on a grouping of established democratic states that has the power and institutional mechanisms to attract transiting regimes and to help secure their democratic outcomes. The EU is the most ambitious example of this kind of grouping, all the more as its promise of incorporation (i.e. EU membership) gives a direction and purpose to convergence and, of course, it reinforces significantly its power to attract. Depending on the determination of new democracies to accede, this provides the EU with a compelling leverage over their elite groups and a channel of influence over their socio-economic interests and even at a certain distance, public opinion. There is thus a temporal link between convergence and incorporation, with the promise of the latter much underscoring the former over a period


of what is likely to be at least a decade. While convergence is less binding and routinely impactive than incorporation, it moves through a series of stages involving policy orientation towards Brussels leading to a membership application, the formalisation of links (notably with an Association agreement), various pre-negotiation consultation procedures and, then finally, negotiations for entry. Hence, convergence increasingly acquires features similar to incorporation – without the latter’s guarantees and obligations – and these point towards the consolidation of new democratic regimes. The most obvious way in which convergence affects prospective member states is through policy choice, content and commitment and of course through economic activity; but, perhaps more telling is the impact and influence on elite mentalities in new democracies in countries emerging from international isolation as these are likely to be. Such influence, deriving from ever closer contacts with political and other elites in established democracies, may well be system-reinforcing in new democracies. Prospective entrant countries have to satisfy basic requirements and of these the most visible is the democracy test. New democracies, which are still likely to be in transition at the time they apply for membership, have to demonstrate they are moving in the right direction, have a potential for political stability and meet a range of particular democratic criteria. Of all the transnational concepts, conditionality is however the most suggestive of deliberate efforts to determine from outside the course and outcome of regime change, excepting of course ‘control’ through foreign occupation. Democratic conditionality is achieved by specifying (pre-)conditions for support, involving either a promise of material aid or political opportunities. It usually requires regular political monitoring of domestic developments in the countries under discussion. It is a method adopted increasingly by international and European organisations, paralleling the greater international attention to human and minority rights since the collapse of Communism in CEE. However, it is the EU that has come to be most associated with democratic conditionality since the eventual prize is no less than eventual membership for compliant new democracies. Democratic conditionality is, however, to a significant degree dependent on the responsiveness of domestic actors, with their European commitment being the decisive factor. Here, one limitation on conditionality may arise in relation to transition paths being played out in individual countries. This problem most appears in the case of ‘hybrid regimes’ which meet only minimum standards for democracy and operate in some way contrary to normal democratic practice and can acquire pariah status. It is likely that the scope for European influence through convergence on such regimes is constrained unless they are particularly vulnerable to international pressures.17 Apart from this problem, a circular form of behaviour may be evident since transnational elite socialisation – including the increasing participation of new democratic personnel in EU institutional forums – may affect political

10 Designing Democracy

attitudes, so elites may become more disposed towards external pressures. But there are also limits to this form of Europeanising dynamic and in the case of CEE that must reside most of all in nationalist tendencies within emerging liberal democracies. In general, conditionality trades more on persuasion and temptation (over accession) than coercion. However, an element of constraint does gradually arise nevertheless once agreements are made (notably over Association) and entry negotiations start to produce decisions. Hence, while convergence has its gradual and mildly intensifying pressures, conditionality plays along in a more immediate way and adds a sharpness to the prospects of convergence. But there are also wider or indirect pressures linked to conditionality for there are routine reasons why applicant countries need to strengthen their democratic acts. Whatever the real problems of the ‘democratic deficit’ in the functioning of the EU, applicant countries are entering a form of political system in which the rule of law is respected and the European Court of Justice asserts its authority in the legislative process. It is also one in which democratic government is practised through participation in the Council of Ministers and the European Parliament.18 Such systemic constraints or influences, though of a milder kind, even begin to affect countries once they demonstrate a serious interest in joining the EU. Since there is an apparent complexity in interactions between the external and the domestic in regime change, as emphasised in historical work, it is important to develop an approach that allows one to integrate the nationalspecific with the general in applying these concepts. This must start with recognising the diversity of international factors and therefore the need for some form of differentiation in evaluating their role in the process of democratisation, such as by accommodating successive phases of the democratisation process but also by focussing on different levels of new democracies still undergoing consolidation. Altogether, the argument is compelling for integrating international factors with comparative approaches to democratisation. Some critical accounts of standard approaches to democratisation have in recent years noted this need.19 It becomes obvious too that the boundaries between a set of factors called ‘domestic’ and another called ‘international’ are difficult if not impossible to maintain contrary to previous assumptions in regime change theory. For this reason, the best means for proceeding is through focussing on interactions, and therefore two-way effects, between sets of international and domestic factors that may well straddle the conventional boundary between them. Such an approach combines political choice and structural factors in a way that captures the dynamics of democratisation at different levels of the regime change process. This means abandoning the notion of an ‘international dimension’ as such, as simply one level alongside others like democratic institutionalisation


and the emergence of civil society. It is a collective term for highly diverse external factors and influences and a wide array of actors that happen to be located or originate outside a country’s borders. While external factors may emerge as geographically separate from domestic developments in a country undergoing regime change, in other ways – especially political, cultural and attitudinal – it is unrealistic to view them as absolutely separate from these in our interdependent world. It is one rather more interdependent than when Southern Europe abandoned authoritarian rule, and certainly very much more so than when Fascism was defeated and replaced by new or restored democracies. It has often been claimed that external factors are a variable dependent on openings and opportunities in the domestic arena for impacting on regime change. However, the external environment can in its different forms impose a set of confining conditions for internal regime change. These confining conditions may derive from either multilateral linkages (membership in international or regional organisations) or bilateral linkages with other states be they contiguous, regional or superpower (where the linkages may vary in quality between one of client or subordinate status and one of partnership based on common membership of multilateral organisations). The state of the regional or international political economy or common systemic trends, that may be said to ‘spill over’ national boundaries, can also influence internal political developments. The prevalence of liberal democratic norms in a region like Western Europe, for instance, can reinforce the democratic option in new regimes, thus contributing positively to democratic consolidation. These various lessons about the study of international factors in democratisation can be applied readily to the area of European integration. That is particularly true of the complexity of interactive effects, international confining conditions and the lack of separation between the domestic and the external. Furthermore, European integration has certain characteristics which make these more likely – with a fusion between the external and the domestic in both policy-making and policy content. The EU presents the most institutionalised, and hence most confining, international framework not only in Europe but across the world. European integration does not merely involve external affairs even though there is a pattern in most member states for foreign ministries to predominate in its bureaucratic management. It above all embraces to an already marked degree areas of policy concern traditionally regarded as domestic.

1.3 EU enlargement and post-Communist democratisation: theoretical approaches Regime change theory has conventionally distinguished within the overall democratisation process between ‘transition’ and ‘consolidation’. Defining


these allows us to place European integration impacts in terms of both the timing and the evolving problems of democratisation. Above all, this moves discussion in the direction favoured above by establishing a temporal relationship between EU enlargement and democratisation and it helps to identify the focus of integration impacts. This leads to considering other theoretical work and its relevance to post-Communist democratisation and EU enlargement. Democratic transition: It commences at the point when the previous non-democratic regime begins to collapse, leading to a situation when, with a new constitution in place, the democratic structures are formally settled and political elites are prone to start adjusting their behaviour accordingly. Signs, therefore, of elite consensus or the formation of elite consensus are a significant indication of transition being accomplished. Transition tasks involve especially negotiating the constitutional settlement and settling the rules of procedure for political competition as well as dismantling authoritarian agencies and abolishing laws unsuitable for democratic life. These attributes are seen as characteristics of transition but not as absolutes. For example, delayed constitutional settlements may – or may not – bear witness to difficult transitions. In reality, as a very crude average, transitions have in the pre-postcommunist era taken around half a decade and in some cases, rather less. But there are indications that in some CEE states transition has in some respects taken rather longer due to the special burdens of postCommunist change. Democratic consolidation: This is not only a much lengthier process but also one with wider and usually deeper effects. It involves in the first instance the gradual removal of the remaining uncertainties surrounding transition (e.g. the constitutional ones, elite behaviour, the resolution of civil–military relations). The way is then opened for the institutionalisation of a new democracy, the internalisation of rules and procedures and the dissemination of democratic values through a ‘remaking’ of the political culture. Much depends in achieving this on the weight of historical inheritances and problems. It is notably on these grounds that one may expect post-Communist countries to take a long time, all the more considering the effects of the multi-transformation process, for democratisation has been taking place in CEE since 1989 in conjunction with both economic system transformation as well as, in several cases, also nation- and state-building.20 It goes without saying that interactions between all three parallel processes are likely to be significant. In other words, are such interactions beneficial or detrimental to democratisation? While ‘transition’ and ‘consolidation’ are generally seen as distinguishable phases of the overall democratisation process, they should be distinguished


qualitatively and not necessarily diachronically. They are not strictly divisible as successive phases although invariably consolidation is completed after transition if not long afterwards, since it is a much longer part of the overall democratisation process. Conceivably, consolidation may start at one or more levels while transition is still in progress. For instance, civil society may emerge as viable soon after authoritarian collapse due to developments under the predecessor regime while elites are still tussling with transition tasks. In any case, democratic consolidation is viewed as a multilevel process where different levels may develop at variable paces and, notionally, consolidation may be achieved at different points of time. There are, therefore, areas of overlap between transition and consolidation especially where, in individual country cases, transition may not yet be complete but some consolidation has already commenced. From the foregoing definitions, it is obvious that EU accession actually takes place when democratic consolidation is under way although its outcome may not be clear. The transition years were spent before negotiations for membership commenced with some but not all Central and Eastern European countries (CEECs) in 1998 and many of the others following in 2000. In any case, prospective candidate countries have had to satisfy the Copenhagen political conditions whereby they should have ‘achieved stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities’ before being invited to negotiate for membership. This means that, in effect, they should have completed transition and moved convincingly towards consolidation. Admittedly, relations between the EU and the CEECs developed fairly speedily after the fall of Communism with diplomatic relations established where they did not already exist, with trade and cooperation agreements signed and in three cases with Europe Agreements for associate status concluded – all at the start of the 1990s. In other words, this early form of convergence occurred during the transition years of post-Communist development. The coming into force of the Europe Agreements, involving an institutionalisation of relations, from the mid-1990s notionally therefore took place once transition was largely over. At the other end of the time scale, democratic consolidation is, interpreting our definitional analysis, likely to take a minimum of two decades as from 1989 and, in some country cases, nearer three. This places the notional achievement of consolidation within the early membership period, if not possibly its first decade for the late developers. In other words, movement towards EU accession has been encompassed at both ends by the ongoing democratisation process in CEE. It should, therefore, have significant if not considerable scope for influencing progress in, as well as, the outcome of that process. It is also possible from the definitions to draw conclusions about integration impacts regarding the different levels of democratisation.


Clearly, constitutional decisions – as the main task of transition – lie usually outside the scope of these impacts even though a pressure is exerted later over the political conditions which include institutional requirements. But at the Copenhagen summit of 1993 these were phrased very generally allowing much detailed scope for actual constitutional mechanisms so long as they obeyed familiar democratic principles. However, the subsequent institutionalisation of democratic procedures – a central feature of consolidation – is undoubtedly open to EU influences because of the need to manage accession, adapt the state machine to EU procedures before membership and satisfy Brussels over capacity and efficiency in implementing European policies. Monitoring of this is almost continuous with the annual progress reports of the European Commission on candidate countries. Furthermore, given the intensity of accession business, it becomes clear that most direct contact with the EU is by political elites, especially governmental ones, while indirectly economic elites are involved by virtue of the pressure exerted on them via negotiating governments to meet the economic conditions (a functioning market economy, the capacity to cope with competitive pressure and market forces). From this, one may infer that integration impacts are most likely on elite behaviour patterns. Intermediary actors like political parties and non-governmental organisations (NGOs) do become involved in integration activity through their own transnational linkages – which in the case of parties are now fairly developed – but they are less continuous and intensive than official links in this period. It follows, too, that deeper levels of consolidation – notably, the societal – are, being rather more distant from the everyday concerns of integration, less open to such outside influences. It is at this level that consolidation invariably takes longest such as in democratising political culture. It is, therefore, to be expected that if integration does have any such profound effects here these occur after membership has already taken place. But we need to explore more fully the relationship between European integration and democratisation in accession countries. Different but complementary ideas have featured in European integration theory, theory on transnational relations in the field of international relations and recent work on Europeanisation. As before with democratisation theories, these will be reviewed for drawing lessons for understanding EU enlargement and its possible effects on post-Communist countries and responses to these. In this way, two-directional interactive effects will be developed further as a framework for exploring that relationship in this study. Integration theory has ranged from grand theory in earlier times to, more recently, a greater emphasis on middle-level approaches. The former produced diverse models including the core theories of functionalism and neofunctionalism as well as key concepts like federalism and confederalism and also transnationalism and interdependence.21 In none of these was the question of enlargement as such considered for the concern was with conceptualising,


and hence explaining the nature, structure and dynamics of the ongoing process of European integration. Nevertheless, enlargement may conceivably affect its character by opening membership to new countries with perhaps different notions and cultural predispositions about integration, not to mention that such additions were bound in some way to modify decision making within the EU and its predecessors. Admittedly, before the current Eastern enlargement, widening has embraced only a small number of new members at any one time – three in 1973 and in 1995, one in 1981 and two in 1986. Moreover, new entrants have been required to accept without question the current structure of the EU and its whole corpus of legislation. In other words, enlargement has never been viewed – rather short-sightedly – as a sufficiently dramatic development to attract the attention of integration theorists. Much the same is true of later theoretical approaches like the new institutionalism and especially multilevel governance which unmistakably focus on the functioning of the system within the EU.22 However, some new thinking on enlargement has now emerged although this has focussed either on what drives this on the EU side or on Europeanisation effects on accession countries especially relating to governance. Schimmelfennig offered ‘rhetorical action’ to explain the decision to open enlargement negotiations since rationalist and other theoretical approaches in international relations did not appear to help. He suggested that actors on both EU and CEE sides argued strategically for enlargement in terms of conforming to European political norms.23 That has a bearing on democratic conditionality which is thus placed in the centre of this dynamic. Similarly, applying the notion of Europeanisation to accession states is relevant because of its argument that European forms of governance are being extended territorially.24 Nevertheless, it is important to go further and relate enlargement to integration as well as democratisation theories for grasping more effectively and fully the question of democratic conditionality. Integration theory, mainly that of recent provenance, offers together with comparative insights some lessons that are pertinent to enlargement and, contextually, to democratic conditionality. They are threefold. First, the EU is treated as a political system rather than as a state and one in regular evolution at both institutional and policy levels to a degree not normally witnessed at the national level. It is, above all, complex and diffuse in its decision making with member countries being crucial for administering coercion and other forms of state power.25 The theory of multilevel governance in particular captures this complexity, describing EU decision making as ‘characterised by mutual dependence, complementary functions and overlapping competencies’.26 More specifically, this approach accepts a significant loss of control by national governments and argues that the different political arenas are interconnected and that, above all, there is no real separation between domestic and international politics.27 In short, therefore, accession countries are entering a system which in due course they


will come to influence but which, already much institutionalised and having some supranational features, has the capacity to affect their own national systems in different ways and to a degree that may be decisive.28 The fact EU membership is conceived as long-term and permanent adds much force to this argument. Second, while strong attention is centred on European and national institutions, questions of informal integration should not be neglected. Neofunctionalist theory long ago drew to our notice the role of non-state actors – such as economic interests and political parties – rather than sovereign states in its hypothesis about the ‘spillover’ process of integration.29 Whatever the disappointments of those who placed a faith in such arguments, these elements have played an ever more institutionalised part in integration alongside official institutions and indeed they form part of the EU system. Parties and interest groups and NGOs lobby both national governments and EU institutions – increasingly so as a result of progressive policy transfer to the European level – and they now have articulated transnational linkages, while unwritten rules and routines as well as personal relationships carry significant influence in such informal networks.30 Indeed, neofunctionalist theory had foreseen that one political spillover effect would be by means of transnational elite socialization.31 Such non-official actors at the European level – parties in particular – are significant intermediary agents, although they do not enjoy the same status and influence normally found at the national level. Equally, their own developing involvement in integration when they come from accession countries is an area that needs exploring as a significant influence through the transnationalisation of new democratic elite groups. Theory on transnational relations emphasises the importance of international organisations, the EU especially, in providing a heavily institutionalised environment for such transnational actors. Much more than in a milieu unregulated by international agreements, these organisations allow them scope for policy impact, facilitate their access to national policy processes and help to legitimate their actions.32 In a study of the development of economic and monetary union, for instance, the very existence of the EU was seen as encouraging and facilitating the activity of transnational actors to a far greater extent than might exist among a random collection of sovereign states. In this case, such actors crucially included central bank governors from member states.33 In general, transnational relations are judged in terms of the importance of internal political structures for interstate relations as well as for mediating and filtering the policy impact of transnational actors. Keohane and Nye, for instance, saw five possible effects of transnational relations on interstate politics that may be readily applied to accession countries. These comprise: attitude changes through new perceptions of reality being promoted with possible consequences for altering state policies; the encouragement of international pluralism coming from,


for instance, coordination between national interest groups; the creation of dependence on transnational organisations (such as for networking, information or other services) as well as the general growth of interdependence in this respect; the formation of new instruments for policy influence although sometimes states may seek to exploit or manipulate these; and, finally, the presence of transnational organisations as autonomous or quasiautonomous actors in world politics thus putting them potentially in conflict with national governments.34 In an organisation like the EU, these various transnational effects may be considerable with the basic commitment to it on the part of member states, the acceptance that membership is not conditional but perpetual and the elaborate system of networking channels within the framework of integration. Clearly, these effects apply rather less to accession compared with member states but this difference reduces with time and the approach of membership. In any case, some of these transnational effects may already be of some significance at this stage for democratisation. For instance, Sidjanski’s study of Southern European interest groups around and after their countries’ accession illustrates the effects of international pluralisation. In particular, their insertion into integrative structures, namely EC interest groups, contributed enormously to their own development and education as well as confidence-building in relation to national governments, some of which had not entirely cast off authoritarian mentalities then towards such autonomous activity.35 One can witness this same development occurring with interest groups from CEECs, all the more once the latter become locked into integration through actual membership. Third, integration theory has with its interest in the formation of a European polity focussed on EU structures to the neglect of within-state conditions. However, insights into member states may be gathered from comparative political studies on integration. Some have usefully dwelt on how far this is an elitist process which is of course highlighted by accession itself. Departing from the simple observation that elites (or, originally, elite figures like pan-European idealists) were crucial in driving forward European integration from its early days, Slater has noted the largely passive compliance of public opinion.36 This identification of a problem in elite/mass relations within the context of integration is one that questions the viability and legitimacy of the EU system. This is a matter that has come repeatedly to the fore over the past decade such as, notably, on the occasion of member states’ referenda on integration treaties or projects. Direct consultation of electorates before membership commenced has not always been the practice by accession countries. It was followed by the Scandinavian states, Ireland and Austria but not by the United Kingdom (UK) and the Southern European countries in the 1980s. However, all CEECs held referenda before accession, thus placing the legitimation of their negotiations squarely on the agenda. Against a background of public disillusionment with


public institutions in these new democracies this seemed a risky exercise at the time in some of these countries. While empirical work on the European policies of given member states is now available, comparative theory on the domestic politics of European integration is limited. Bulmer’s essay on this very theme was an exception when first published in the 1980s. Criticising the over-attention in integration literature to ‘the upper tier’, that is, the formal institutional framework of the EU, Bulmer argued for examining the domestic sources of national negotiating positions among member states. This involves looking at policy styles and positions, the role and influence of different domestic actors as well as their relationship with governments in the policy process. In general, this domestic politics approach assumes that each national polity ‘has a different set of social and economic conditions that shapes its national interests and policy content’ as well as ‘ideological cleavages which determine the extent of consensus’; that European policy only represents one facet of a national polity’s activity, thus arguing against separating this from its other domestic behaviour; and, that in formal terms the national governments ‘hold a key position at the junction of national politics and Community politics’.37 Bulmer’s main contention that domestic politics essentially determines progress in European integration must however now be questioned. As he put it, ‘it should be clear – without resorting to concepts such as “spillback” – that the policy-making process does not follow the logic of integration but rather that integration follows the logic of decision-making processes; these processes have their roots in the power structures of the nation states’.38 Clearly, in the two decades since he first posited his thesis much has happened to advance integration: the dynamic policy drive during the Delors Commission, the Single Market, the Single European Act and the Maastricht and Amsterdam Treaties and – perhaps, most radically – the introduction of a single currency and very recently the agreement on an EU Constitution (subject to ratification by member states). Both policy expansion with its possibly deepening influences as well as institutional strengthening at the European level, albeit of an uneven incremental kind, have served to tighten the confining conditions imposed by the EU on individual countries and especially those seeking membership. Thus, the integration logic is enhanced, so that the dynamics set by European policy-making are less straightforwardly driven by national factors. At the academic level, this question has featured in the debate and the growing literature on Europeanisation, which has indeed addressed the domestic implications of integration in a more systematic way than before. Europeanisation has come to have different meanings especially when also applied to CEE, where it has been associated with the basic policy redirection of the ‘return to Europe’. It has accordingly acquired there a historical ring as well as some cultural connotations but the main application in the context of integration proper has been in reference to policy (especially in


member states) and economics (especially in the CEECs where this means marketisation). Recent research has looked at the EU’s governance and, therefore, the effects on domestic structures and their adjustment to them. For Cowles, Caporaso and Risse this involves concentrating on institutional frameworks although change or resistance to Europeanisation are affected strongly by institutional cultures and the embedment of national organisations. Of special interest is the role of elite learning which has facilitated such adjustment; but in general integration impacts have varied much across the member states.39 Also, according to Goetz and Hix, the direct impacts on domestic institutional structures have so far not been strong apparently notwithstanding EU constraints on national policy-making, especially economic, although they identify indirect impacts as greater deriving from the requirements of policy implementation.40 At the same time, recent interest in Europeanisation has broadened out to include domestic political impacts other than just the institutional.41 So far, research on Europeanisation has been confined to member states with little attention to accession countries and how they react. And, yet, there is a strong case for arguing that it is precisely such countries, in the process of joining the EU and undergoing fast-track adoption of European legislation , which are most likely to reveal intensive Europeanisation. They are relatively new to the integration game; and, integration impacts are more likely to be identifiable there than in member states, especially longstanding ones, because they are more abrupt.42 But this is an area of EU enlargement that is much under-researched. The growing literature on Eastern enlargement has concentrated on official links between Brussels and respective national capitals, particular policy sectors and especially on the economics and costs and benefits of eventual accession. Little attention has been given to the domestic politics of accession but the available literature is especially useful for case study material.43 It is important, therefore, to develop this area more comparatively for analysing the interactive dynamics that may develop between Europeanisation and domestic pressures in candidate states. When applied to democratisation, this entails looking at the broad convergence patterns and stages of EU relations with new democracies. These constitute the wider integration process of which the accession process forms a part, the latter being defined as active movement by countries towards the target of EU membership whether in the pre-negotiations phase, when they seek to satisfy the political conditions of the EU, or during negotiations when the dynamic of accession takes on a new momentum. It is therefore worth summarising the broad types of influences exerted by the EU on democratisation in applicant and candidate countries. These may be seen as signposts in the process of convergence: ● ●

the symbolic: the identification of the EU with liberal democracy; the development of early forms of convergence, notably in the commercial field with its political influences;

20 Designing Democracy ●

●

●

●

●

the prospect of eventual EU entry, with energising effects on prospective member states and impacts on their policy direction, a motivation that becomes heightened once the invitation to negotiate arrives and negotiations for membership commence; the gradual involvement of political elites in the EU institutional framework, such as through membership negotiations and preparations for entry but also mechanisms linked to intermediary stages such as Association; the pressure exerted from the application of democratic conditionality by the EU (and other international organisations), including through economic aid programmes; the growing participation of political and economic elites and groups in transnational networks linked to the EU and other European organisations; the binding policy commitments from the adoption of the acquis communautaire with possible effects – direct and indirect – on further progress towards democratic consolidation.

Of course, this succession of broad influences which may sooner or later run in parallel and indeed overlap is dependent for its momentum on accession actually taking place. In the event that enlargement is delayed or even aborted, then clearly that momentum will be affected negatively. The asymetrical nature of negotiations for membership is ultimately driven by the expected prize which, if not forthcoming, threatens to unwind what is usually a fragile domestic consensus.44 Depending on the actual nature of such a crisis, the consequences could be to complicate the democratisation processes in accession countries, although that in turn depends on how far individual countries have already become consolidated. One other qualification of this theme of dynamic convergence is the differential attraction of the EU for countries interested in joining. Countries which are already negotiating successfully with strong chances of completion are those most likely to demonstrate a positive dynamics (assuming, that is, that enlargement is not complicated by late reluctance or a basic crisis in the EU), followed by those behind in negotiations who still have a hard grind ahead in talks with Brussels. This differential momentum has accordingly different degrees of pull on the part of such countries when it comes to satisfying and implementing the political conditions for membership (democratic conditionality). One may further distinguish between countries not yet negotiating for membership, but which may in the long run have a chance, and those for which EU membership is an unlikely scenario. It follows too that the incentive to democratise for reasons of European strategy to meet European standards is again variable and much weaker among them than in the first two groups.45 In other words, convergence is not overwhelming and depends much on a complementary dynamics from domestic change.


Compared with the EU, other European organisations offer less promise, although they also exercise a democracy test to a lesser and variable extent and there has, over the 1990s developed a growing tendency for this to happen. Nevertheless, some of them have a distinct focus in their promotion of democracy which should not be underestimated for its effectiveness. The Council of Europe, for instance, is a much less ambitious organisation than the EU, but it highlights human and minority rights and membership of it has a certain prestige. The Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) also defends human and minority rights and aims at building democratic institutions, while playing a monitoring role especially at election time. However, its obligations unlike those of the Council of Europe are not legally binding.46 The defence organisations have democracy requirements by association (the Western European Union with the EU), or they have bland requirements, that is, NATO’s standards include civilian control over the armed forces, the resolution of outstanding ethnic disputes as well as a market economy and a constitutional state. Then there are various financial organisations like the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD), all of which have exercised a form of political conditionality although usually written up as ‘good governance’ rather than specifically geared to a list of democratic criteria. One should bear these other organisations in mind as their activity has tended to complement or buttress the democratic conditionality set by the EU. The European Union is different from other international bodies because it has been more comprehensive in detailing democratic criteria concerning the countries from CEE. Increasingly, these criteria have moved from mainly procedural conditions of formal democracy (e.g. the rule of law, the separation of institutional powers, free elections, freedom of expression) to include also criteria of substantive democracy, such as the role of political parties as a vehicle for political participation, the pluralism of the media, the importance of local government and an involved civil society.47 This greater concern on the part of the EU with significant areas of substantive democracy has inevitably brought that organisation more centrally into the debate about external influences on democratic consolidation. Through conditionality, therefore, the EU may exercise more immediate pressures than is sometimes supposed by those who argue that European integration can only have long-term effects on the consolidation process. This pressure from Brussels has been complemented – in a way analogous to the carrot-and-stick syndrome – by support mechanisms for democracybuilding. Of the various aid programmes, the most pertinent has been the PHARE Democracy Programme administered by the Human Rights Foundation in Brussels. Its brief has been to promote ‘a stable open society and good governance’, and it focusses support on ‘political reform and democratic practice, where local advocacy bodies are weak and professional


expertise is particularly lacking’. In doing so, it seeks to further many of the criteria of both procedural but even more so of substantive democracy. Altogether, exploring different theoretical approaches and developing them with respect to EU enlargement provides us with a better conceptual handle on the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation in looking at the post-Communist world. It tells us, for example, that the trajectories of accession and democratic consolidation are inextricably linked and that differentiation is the gateway to analysing EU impacts. Moreover, it throws light on how political the EU has become but, more pertinently, it tells us that the EU’s special power over democratic conditionality lies in the enlargement dynamic and that this is best assessed by focussing on interactive effects between accession pressures and the domestic politics of candidate countries.

1.4 EU enlargement and democratisation: an interactive approach Such interactive dynamics over the EU accession process – and within this the application of and responses to the EU’s democratic conditionality – require an assessment of the relative logics of European integration on the one hand and of domestic politics – meaning the domestic politics of many different post-Communist countries in parallel – on the other. Taken together, the foregoing review of various theoretical or comparative approaches can, when applied with reference to EU enlargement, give us both a better understanding of and insight into external influences and domestic responses as well as different conceptual signposts for evaluating the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation. This is evident in different ways; and these may help in elaborating this study’s interactive approach and the thinking behind it. Regime change theory and integration theory are broadly complementary in that the first focusses essentially on the domestic but offers some mileage for grasping the external while the second focusses on the external (the European level) with a limited potential for embracing the domestic. Regime change theory may be developed by integrating political choice and structural concerns, where clearly international structures play a major part, and by applying more carefully such concepts as convergence and conditionality which have an obvious relevance for enlargement. It is also inescapable that any systematic analysis should differentiate among external influences. Meanwhile, integration theory helps us to define the increasingly pervasive system to which the new post-Communist democracies have been relating, but it also emphasises that any viable study of enlargement must embrace informal and not simply official processes. When combined with lessons from the Europeanisation literature, there is a compelling argument for analysing European processes in interaction with domestic


ones in order to draw conclusions about the impacts of European integration. This is now unavoidable since, as periodisation of the discussion shows, not only have international factors in general become more extensive as well as more diverse but also, more particularly, European integration has expanded and deepened considerably. This sets the context for understanding the engagement of post-Communist countries with the EU and its effects on their parallel democratisations. Timing is an important methodological device in other ways too, especially in disaggregating both the democratisation process and the enlargement processes into stages and turning-points and how these interact. On the crucial question of such interactions, the other literature examined provide useful lessons. Historical evidence tells us simply, with the benefit of detailed and sometimes behind-the-scenes hindsight about past democratisations, that brash and somewhat dismissive assumptions about external impacts as rarely central are just not tenable. Theory on transnational relations has dwelt precisely on such interactions between the external and the domestic with special reference to policy choice; and, it emphasises the institutionalised nature of European integration as making a decisive difference. Of all approaches in the international relations literature such theory may be readily applied to EU enlargement and incorporated in any discussion of democratisation. From the above, it is now possible to draw conclusions about the scope for but also the limitations on EU influence over new democracies. It is clear, first, on diachronic grounds that this influence is greater than ever before and it has to be seen too against the background of an increasingly interdependent world. Moreover, one should bear in mind that there is a wider integration process of which accession forms a part and that, when considered together, it is necessary to identify both direct but also indirect impacts and influences on the democratisation process. We describe the outcome of these developments as confining conditions that indeed may have a determining effect on domestic choice but also on some domestic developments in general. Second, accession occurs well within the period of democratic consolidation. Therefore, given the pervasive effects of both, there is likely to be a strong mutual relationship once a dynamic develops with membership negotiations. This may be explored most effectively in terms of different levels of domestic change in line with research on democratic consolidation. As discussed later in Chaper 3, these constitute the three domestic arenas of governance (institutions – especially governmental – and policies), the political arena (parties and the media as intermediary actors and also public opinion) and the socio-economic arena (different interests, pressure groups and civil mobilisation). It has already been suggested that influences are likely to be earlier and probably most extensive on institutions and elites than on deeper levels of the polity like civil society. At the same time, it is here in such differentiation that limitations on EU influence are exposed.


Third, crucial to the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation is whether there emerges a positive or a negative dynamics. This may be assessed by reference to two-way effects but in a differentiated manner that encompasses again the main levels of political systems in the new post-Communist democracies. A short-term perspective may also tell us that some effects may complicate regime change even if the long-term outcome is likely to be positive. However, it is the ongoing chances of accession actually taking place and of a permanent link with the EU that provide the significant environment for assessing the effects of its conditionality on these new democracies. In short, therefore, the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation may be viewed in push and pull fashion. Above all, this must be seen within the dynamic of the EU’s accession process where compliance with political conditionality is driven forwards by the prospects of membership. Interactions that derive from this dynamic will be examined under different headings which are set within the domestic politics context of EU enlargement. In doing this, key research questions include the following: has the push/pull dynamics of EU accession dominated, or has its asymmetrical nature caused domestic problems? since political elites; have probably been the most affected by integration impacts, have they been constrained by pressures from other levels of their political systems?; and, have there been any significant conflicts between Europeanisation and democratisation in candidate countries, or have interactions between them been mainly positive? At the same time, as the discussion of international factors in democratisation shows, there is a strong need to differentiate by accommodating the diversity of pressures on both sides in order to demonstrate particular impacts; and here domestic politics may either facilitate or inhibit such interactions. After looking at the development of the EU’s conditionality policy in order to contextualise this study, patterns of EU enlargement and domestic politics are introduced before assessing motivational factors that led political elites in CEE towards joining the EU. In the second half of the book, attention then focusses in depth and detail on accession countries comparatively and in turn their governance, their political arenas and their socio-economic arenas will be discussed with reference to the interactive dynamics of EU enlargement. Thus, the interactive approach is applied successively to different levels of the new democracies in CEE in order to assess the scope for and the limitations on the EU’s capacity for designing their further development.

2 The EU’s Conditionality Strategy: its Development before and after the Fall of Communism

2.1 Expanding the democracy test: the EU in context The ‘triumph of democracy’ is a contested term when applied to the changed global environment from the early 1990s, suggesting a somewhat simplistic and arrogant view of events; but in one way it is perhaps applicable. The undoubted growth in democracy promotion (DP) and democratic conditionality (DC) in this recent and current period underlines the priority now accorded to that area. This is evident when looking at the increase in support for democracy through non-governmental organisation (NGO) activity, the greater emphasis on political conditions on the part of a wider range of international organisations and – significantly – the extent to which national governments now give attention to fostering new and fragile democracies and to insisting on democratic requirements in their aid programmes abroad. Support for democracy has therefore moved unmistakably up the order of foreign policy concerns. And, it has combined with a growing acceptance of international involvement in the internal affairs of sovereign states as well as with a proliferation of instruments and of actors involved.1 Democracy requirements have at the same time expanded, though not uniformly, to include not merely the formal but also increasingly the substantive, the latter concentrating on qualitative features of new democratic regimes. And, these requirements have become more specific in contrast somewhat with the bland requirements of previous decades. Nevertheless, it should not be assumed that DP and conditionality have absolutely triumphed for, while now a greater priority, they cannot be exclusive of other concerns that arise in post-authoritarian situations. These may intermix with democracy requirements but in some cases they may conflict with them or even threaten to push them back down the order of external priorities. That is notably true of the linked concerns of stability and security. As is well known, regime change 25


may – initially at least – have unsettling effects on the wider region in which it takes place and indeed it may release unwelcome problems previously suppressed by authoritarian rule. The sheer extent of regime change in the postCommunist world – with some 27 national cases in question, some of them so far with uncertain outcomes – emphasises this point. The current literature on DP certainly recognises the importance of the changed international environment in the 1990s as providing new opportunities as well as stimulating fresh thinking by the actors involved. Important factors include the changed international situation since the end of the Cold War, ending the dominance of old-fashioned security rationales and allowing a more relaxed approach to DP, but also simply the presence of so many new democracies seeking promotion and not merely in Europe but across the world. Also relevant has been a change in conceptualising DP making it less dependent on economic dictates or developmental preconditions and therefore more straightforwardly political. As a result of these different factors, DP has in Peter Burnell’s words, ‘taken off’ during the 1990s.2 In this context, the term democracy promotion is preferred to that of democracy assistance, which is one part of the former, as it is the more generic term.3 It may or may not be coupled with DC in carrot-and-stick fashion. The question then is whether DP is more effective when combined with DC; but the answer must in part depend on the political and institutional backing given to the latter. As we shall see, it is this crucial aspect that now most of all differentiates the EU from virtually all other external actors involved in either activity or both of them. This difference comes across when turning to criticisms that have surfaced in the literature on DP. This tends to be rather sceptical about its real effects and the priority it enjoys in relation to other external policy concerns. Some assessments are quite critical of the working assumptions of DP programmes, their evident lack of strategy, the over-concern with top-down methods (such as the fetish over training activities) and the often fragmented way of conducting implementation.4 Other criticism has dwelt on the lack of effectiveness and related to this – an aspect that has attracted adverse publicity – the political tourism of Western donors, who fly in and fly out and are lodged in expensive luxury hotels in stark contrast with the poverty of the recipients.5 Donor bashing has sometimes combined with donor bragging, that is, hyperbolic claims about programme outcomes. Clearly, there have been difficulties in making thorough and perhaps objective assessments of effects and results, while consequences too often escape the short-term mentality of many aid programmes. A further problem lies in a lack of coordination between different donor agencies, arising from the increased involvement of different actors. This may be serious when efforts are duplicated and cause confusion, although in fact there is much scope for complementary activity between different organisations. Two questions in particular arise here that have a general application today and are especially relevant when looking at CEE. First, there are significant

Development of EU’s Conditionality Strategy 27

differences between the conceptions of democracy and expectations about progress towards it on the part of different external actors. To simplify these differences, the main distinction drawn is between those promoting the ‘procedural minimum’ or just electoral democracy or some other version of formal democracy and those concerned with qualitative and especially nonelitist criteria (which come close to what in democratisation research is known as substantive democracy). This distinction has become all the more pertinent because of the phenomenon known as ‘democracies with adjectives’, that is, limited, partial, semi-, quasi- or pseudo-democracies. The recent global wave of democratisation has brought with it a great diversity of post-authoritarian regimes thus placing this issue centrally on the agenda.6 But the debate over what is acceptable has been paralleled by a certain lack of clarity on the part of official agencies. Second, there are differences in the basic approach between the top-down and the bottom-up which reflect on the chances for success. While some mechanisms, such as political and electoral training, might be much in demand in the early stage of democratisation, questions have arisen about the sustainability of DP programmes if they remain top-down thereafter. There is, for instance, the argument that positive results are directly proportional to the degree of involvement of local actors and that such a bottomup approach is necessary for externally driven democratisation to take root.7 Such an approach may counter the perhaps inevitable tendency for recipients to become donor-dependent, for outside assistance can have such a political influence in shaping people’s expectations that its withdrawal can bring negative effects.8 Local involvement may also help with inputs into project design and make for better or better informed and certainly more consensual DP. Thus, assistance to political parties has been criticised for being too often based on Western models rather than being related to the actual conditions of emerging democracies.9 Such judgements in the literature on DP, it should be pointed out, are commonly oriented towards Third World experience. The EU has also been confronted for its deficiencies, such as its convoluted procedures, lack of accountability and transparency but usually in relation to its programmes to developing countries.10 But criticism of the EU’s deficiencies in its DP vis-àvis African, Caribbean and Pacific (ACP) states – including problems of democratic deficit in its procedures – apply much less to Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) applicant states because the procedures of DP, which go hand-in-hand with DC, are with the latter far tighter. There is an even greater differential in terms of the pull exerted by the EU and its consequent democratising effects. This is not only a matter of the more institutionalised nature of EU relations with accession countries but also the approach adopted. In contrast say with American official aid programmes, EU assistance to CEE was structured to compel input from recipients as well as from in-country representatives. This practice of EU representatives working alongside their local


counterparts has usually produced a situation of collegiality. EU officials were often aware of the need to treat their host officials as equals, for as one remarked: ‘One day he [the host official] may well be my boss [in the EU structure]’.11 Moreover, accession provides a much greater incentive to carry DC into practice because the ultimate prize is no less than membership; and, once this is granted, new members become locked into a permanent integration process that makes it increasingly difficult to reverse democratisation. In other words, the enlargement experience contrasts with the short-termism of some other international actors. One may of course make the fairly obvious point that it is complementarity between the push of DC and its twin activity of DP in particular and the pull of EU accession in general that accounts for the special effect of European integration as an external democratising force. This is broadly true, for no other international organisation (IO) can match the EU’s detailed and persistent conditionality demands and its much broader political embrace as well as its superior promise of membership. Given the EU’s distinctiveness with its heavily institutionalised framework, it is necessary to focus on the actual scope for and limitations on the EU’s conditionality strategy. Four propositions will, therefore, guide the discussion in this chapter: ●

●

●

●

the complementarity between the push and pull effects should be related to the actual priority given DC and DP within the EU’s approach towards enlargement, accepting that accession is not identical with democratisation (despite all the official rhetoric implying that it might be so); the pull of the EU should be treated as a dynamic, thus hypothesising that the better and closer the prospects for membership then the stronger the pull effects, and conversely so, though not forgetting the crucial factor of the commitment and willingness of governments in candidate countries; the factor of timing in the relationship between democratisation and EU accession (identified as relevant in Chapter 1) may be examined in terms of three successive stages – pre-negotiations, the period of negotiations, and post-accession – with their different demands and pressures and their different forms of dynamics; the push effects or EU impacts are best evaluated by differentiating between levels of the new CEE democracies which also allows for identifying indirect as well as direct effects.

We follow this line of discussion by, first, looking briefly at the history of EU conditionality both to compare with how it has expanded in the postCommunist period as well as, where relevant, to identify any problems in its evolution and the priority it was accorded. Second, we look closely at how the EU’s conditionality was formulated in the recent period and the means it has established for carrying this through. And, third, the possibilities for implementing this conditionality strategy and the problems facing it will be


discussed from the Brussels perspective. Altogether, this allows us to outline the development of EU thinking behind conditionality and to focus historically on the push/pull dynamics in interactions between integration pressures and domestic politics.

2.2 The EEC/EC and democracy requirements: reluctant conditionality Democratic conditionality, and with it DP, was far less developed strategically and methodologically by the EU’s predecessor organisations, the European Economic Community (EEC) and the European Community (EC). It was also less centralised then in the European institutions, although the European Parliament (EP) began to develop what became a traditional interest in democracy concerns from early on. The member states played at that time a more dominant part but in a somewhat diffuse manner. Underlying these differences compared with today were official attitudes that explicitly or implicitly viewed European integration as essentially an economic more than a political process. Democracy was certainly made a sine qua non for membership of the EEC, not to mention other European organisations then, given the Cold War environment, but this also dictated that stability and security concerns were closely related. As a result, democracy requirements tended to be phrased rhetorically rather than specified concretely. It was not at that time a general practice for international organisations to do otherwise. In fact, the 1951 Treaty of Paris, which inaugurated the first integration organisation the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), was more concerned with preventing the reoccurrence of war than with encouraging democracy. According to its preamble, its members aimed to ‘substitute for historic rivalries a fusion of their essential interests’ and to ‘establish, by means of an economic community, the foundation of a broad and independent community among peoples long divided by bloody conflicts’. This neglect of the democracy factor may seem, in retrospect, surprising, given that two of the six founding states had had recent Fascist systems and were still strictly undergoing democratic transition – namely, Italy and the new Federal Republic of Germany – while the other four had experienced Nazi occupation and were therefore technically refounded democracies, in France’s case with a new Fourth Republic. However, the Rome Treaty of 1957 establishing the EEC vaguely noted in its preamble that member states ‘resolved by thus pooling their resources to preserve and strengthen peace and liberty and calling upon the other peoples of Europe who share their ideal to join their efforts’. The real beginnings of conditionality thinking only came in the early 1960s, when new membership was first under discussion although it did not actually take place until a decade later. It was the EP which took the initiative through its Political Committee to issue a report on the necessary political


and institutional conditions for membership and association status of the EEC. Approved by the EP in January 1962, this report named thenceforth after the Member of the European Parliament (MEP) who presented it, Willi Birkelbach, stated: ‘Only states which guarantee on their territories truly democratic practices and respect for fundamental rights and freedoms can become members of the Community.’ It warned that ‘states whose governments do not have democratic legitimisation and whose people do not participate in government decisions, either directly or through fully elected representatives, cannot aspire to be admitted into the circle of nations which form the European Communities’. This report became a reference point for the later history of political conditionality in European integration. Subsequent developments in the 1960s proved influential in helping to define a form of DC on the EEC’s part. They were interesting for two reasons: they focussed on the current problems of defining relations with authoritarian systems in Southern Europe; and, they demonstrated the absence of a clear consensus on the matter. Some member states were more concerned than others over questions of democracy both by tradition but also on the basis of political ideology. Parties and governments on the Left were rather more sensitive to democratic criteria than those on the Right. It was no coincidence, for instance, that Birkelbach was a Socialist just as the Socialist group in the EP was the driving force behind that institution’s line on DC at this time. Furthermore, DC tended to be defined in reaction to developments rather than representing an active strategy in the making aimed at changing the politics of prospective or actual member or associate states. The first case which arose was Franco’s Spain which from the early 1960s showed an interest in a link with the EEC, established a few years before, essentially at the economic level. The government in Madrid saw this as part of its new economic approach abandoning autarky and opening up to European markets in line with its liberalising and modernising of the national economy. To this end, Spain had already joined a number of international organisations like the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank and the Organisation for European Economic Cooperation (OEEC).12 Then, in February 1962 an application was made by the Spanish Foreign Ministry for association status with the EEC. Until shortly before this time Spanish policy-makers had underestimated the political aspects of a link with the EEC. Admittedly, this was before the Birkelback Report which among other things highlighted these aspects with respect to associate members.13 The response and the handling of the matter showed that there was no clear procedure on conditionality matters. Initial reactions among member states were diverse. France, the country most sympathetic to Franco Spain’s search for an EEC link, and West Germany – both under conservative governments – had guaranteed support to Madrid. But the three Benelux countries, then ruled by Socialist majorities, were not supportive and their publics were strongly hostile to the Franco regime.14 As a result there was a dilemma


compounded by a strategic problem. On the one hand, a rejection of Spain’s application would compromise the EEC’s pressure on the Franco regime to evolve and liberalise and, on the other, an acceptance would suggest that the political dimension of an EEC link was at best secondary or open to compromise. Consequently, there was no clear response from the EEC which was tempted to procrastinate.15 At the same time, the EEC institutions were somewhat divided. The EP inclined towards rejection with some differences apparent between the firm line of the Socialists and the milder one of the Christian Democratic and Liberal groups, where the view carried some weight that economic cooperation was the priority and democratisation would come from subsequent pressures. However, the Commission President – Walter Hallstein, a Christian Democrat and close associate of Chancellor Adenauer – congratulated the Spanish government on its decision to apply.16 At this point, Spain appeared to hope that the issue of political conditions would somehow be circumvented. However, it was soon evident that opposition to the Spanish case was on the increase, especially in the EP where the Socialists (with Birkelback featuring prominently) persisted with their hostility. This had the effect of strengthening caution among EEC governments. A major publicity event, which stiffened resistance to the Spanish cause, was the congress of the European Movement in Munich in June 1962 with the participation of Spanish opposition groups. This raised the pressure for democratising the Spanish system, acerbating a crisis in the Franco regime which in making the application had had to draw a balance between hardliners and European-minded regime ‘liberals’ who advocated economic modernisation.17 It was not until the end of 1962 that the EEC Council of Ministers began to consider seriously formulating a position. Exploratory talks were opened with Spain but eventually the idea of association was dropped for political reasons and instead simply a commercial agreement was reached in 1970.18 This matter had two consequences. First, the indecision and scarcely veiled embarrassment of EEC governments reinforced the need for advance thinking on DC. However, at least it was now officially realised that political incompatibility with European democracies prevented associate not to mention full membership of the EEC. Arguments that integration – including its associated version – was primarily if not essentially economic were weakened. So was the Spain-specific argument that the Franco regime represented stability and that allowance should be made for this.19 Second, this issue served to encourage the Spanish opposition to Franco with some wider effects, all the more as European pressure over democracy and the disappointing EEC response for Madrid inflamed differences within the regime as well as helped to drive a wedge between the regime and sectors of Spanish society. As a result, the symbolic association between Europe and democracy became strengthened in Spanish eyes and especially on the political Left.20 This association was to play an influential part in building domestic consensus for EEC accession after the Spanish transition to democracy.


The second case was more poignant because it involved an already established association, namely that with Greece. This had been agreed upon in 1962 when that country was under democratic rule, but in 1967 the Colonels’ coup inaugurated a military dictatorship. The EEC decided to ‘freeze’ the association in the sense that further talks for policy harmonisation ceased although trading obligations under the agreement continued.21 This decision was taken with the aim of trying to influence the internal affairs of Greece; but it is difficult to prove the effects. In Coufoudakis’s view, the ‘freezing’ contributed to the eventual collapse of the Colonels’ regime in 1974 because it created economic pressures and particularly as it reinforced the regime’s isolation in Europe, undermined its credibility and encouraged domestic opposition.22 Admittedly there were other factors like the lack of the regime’s institutionalisation, its vulnerability to sustained pressures and, of course, the impact of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in the summer of 1974 on the Greek situation. The EEC’s line of ‘freezing’ certainly caused the regime concern, not least because the Council of Europe simultaneously took a hard line, criticising repression and human rights violations in Greece and moving towards expulsion. But, unlike the Council of Europe (COE) which was freer to adopt a position of pure moral condemnation, the EEC encountered problems in holding on to its ‘freezing’ line. Maintaining a distinction between the ‘administration’ and the evolution of the association agreement proved awkward to manage in the face of mounting evidence of repression in Greece and arguments for abrogating the agreement especially from the EP. Furthermore, differences emerged among member states over future action, thus inhibiting a revised position. This difficulty remained unresolved when the regime collapsed after seven years in power.23 Once again, the EEC learned a lesson about the complications of DC. The collapse of the Colonels’ regime got it this time out of a dilemma, but the message was obviously the need to develop a less reactive line. By and large, the Greek case reinforced the decision reached over Franco’s Spain that conditionality is best exercised in advance of membership, whether associate or full. This almost certainly influenced reactions to Turkey which in 1980 succumbed to a military coup, following which relations with the European Community (EC) became very troubled and came to a standstill. Although the 1983 constitution, granted by the military, commenced a slow return to democracy, there were continuing violations of human rights during the 1980s not to mention that the military retained a formal and quite influential institutional presence. Nevertheless, from the mid-1980s Ankara pressed for eventual EC membership and exploited Turkey’s strategic importance as well as the argument that a positive response would secure the return to democracy.24 But doubts and a feeling of scepticism among some member states, notably West Germany, remained.25 Responses to Turkey’s application for membership in 1988 were largely cool and these were confirmed in the European Commission’s unenthusiastic statement on the issue at the end of 1989.26


One other lesson from the Spanish and Greek cases was the basic need to coordinate the EEC position on conditionality more effectively. But this meant deciding where the main institutional responsibility was and that was not easy. The late 1970s and the first part of the 1980s were marked by the three post-authoritarian accession processes of Greece, Spain and Portugal. Although they were successfully achieved, this need for coordination on DC was not really met despite the Declaration on Democracy at the Copenhagen summit in April 1978.27 Following the experience with the Colonels, there were some reservations in the now renamed EC over Greek membership. However, Prime Minister Karamanlis, following the country’s return to democracy, argued eloquently for membership being granted on political grounds and he lobbied EC capitals relentlessly on this basis. At a meeting with EC ambassadors in Athens, Karamanlis proclaimed: ‘I would like to emphasise that Greece does not seek integration solely for economic reasons; it is primarily on political grounds that our application rests, reasons related to the consolidation of democracy and the destiny of our nation’.28 This line was pushed consistently by Greek government leaders throughout negotiations as a means of pressure to secure success, just as Foreign Minister Mitsotakis announced on the eve of Greek entry that ‘our own democratic institutions will be reinforced through constant contact and interchange; but mainly because from now on Greece will share the destiny of its Community partners’. According to him, prospective dictators were ‘bound to know that the abolition of democracy entails immediate ostracism from the Community’, which would bring ‘grave internal and external consequences’.29 Greece was remarkably insistent about the politics of its drive for EC membership. This was less true of Spain where the theme of modernisation, especially economic, played an important part too. Given Spain’s evolutionary transition to democracy, the EC was particularly cautious because the absence of a deliberate and abrupt break with the Franco past meant that from the Brussels perspective it was difficult to assess such progress. There was also the fact that authoritarian rule had lasted so much longer than in Greece, for over a generation since the end of the Spanish Civil War in 1939, with accordingly deeper effects. In January 1976, shortly after Franco’s death, the EC Foreign Ministers agreed that a Spanish application would not be entertained until the country was well down the road to democracy, with subsequent warnings that this would take time.30 The EC’s attitude began really to change once the first free parliamentary elections were held in June 1977; and an application for membership was made by Madrid shortly afterwards. After some delay, negotiations commenced in 1979 and extended over six years. The only major political disruption was dramatic and brief following the attempted coup in Madrid in February 1981. This produced expressions of solidarity with Spain and relief for the way in which the coup had been checked. However, this


was soon after accompanied by warnings that a non-democratic country could not enter the EC.31 Evidently, confidence in the Spanish model of transition had been somewhat shaken; and, it was followed that summer by stagnation and crisis in the negotiations with the EC. The Portuguese transition differed from that of Spain in a number of ways. Starting with an abrupt overthrow of the authoritarian regime, this transition then embarked on a disruptive course during 1975, including attempts from both reactionary Right and hard Left to challenge the option of a liberal democracy. The EC delayed granting aid to Portugal until the autumn of that year and then with the stipulation that Portugal must have a multiparty democracy. And reservations remained until the first free election of April 1975 revealed the unexpected strength of the moderate parties. Thereafter, EC relations with Lisbon began to develop more normally.32 Despite other concerns about Portugal, notably over the country’s economic development, the country did enjoy several advocates among EC member states, including West Germany and Britain both of which had Socialist governments at this time – and for whom the argument about supporting fledgling democracies carried weight. In this context, Mario Soares – the Portuguese leader who had fostered good European links through the Socialist International – utilised the argument, similar to Karamanlis’s, that EC entry was vital for buttressing Portugal’s new democracy, as did various government representatives.33 This line was also advocated by some EC figures, including the President of the Commission, Roy Jenkins, and senior government leaders in some member states.34 Altogether, the Southern European accessions illustrated various patterns and problems relating to DC. First, it was clear, there remained a lack of coordination over this matter. The EC Council of Ministers was here the most important single decision-making institution, but it obviously reflected fairly common differences among the member states which were sometimes subject to changes in governments.35 By comparison, the European Commission did not play a major role although statements of solidarity by its presidents could influence decisions if well timed. It was in fact the European Parliament that proved the strongest advocate of the political dimension of enlargement even though party-political differences over this were present within it. It should be added at this point that transnational party organisations played quite an influential role at times in moving along accession and in pressing for democratic conditions.36 Second, factors which could be called high politics intervened in determining when and how political requirements could be applied and even waived. It is clear, for instance, that candidate countries had a better chance of success on the political level when they enjoyed the support of key advocates within the EC. This meant either a major member state or two, as the UK in the case of Portugal, or sometimes an influential political figure. (Greece, for instance, enjoyed the patronage of France’s President Giscard


d’Estaing.) Such factors helped to account for the different ways in which the three Southern European candidates were handled, although these also related to differences in their democratic transitions. In this connection, too, national images – to some extent coloured by historical memory – could at the edges influence decisions or at least attitudes. For instance, memories of Spain in the 1930s – when the Civil War mobilised European opinion in a very divisive way – to some extent affected reactions, especially on the Left, to Spain in the early post-Franco years, all the more as the political Right with some former Francoist figures at the helm was running the transition and governing the country. Third, while there was an agreement that democracy was essential as a precondition for EC membership, democracy tended to be regarded in official quarters as a single entity and not as a polity consisting of different elements. Applicant countries were viewed as either approved or not on political grounds. At the same time, various minimal conditions were required and these included free elections, a constitution in place, the right balance of party strength (with pro-democracy parties in the ascendant), and a reasonably stable government led if possible by figures credible in European circles.37 These were largely formal criteria although with a dash of personalism (a characteristic that was quite significant in the operation of the EC’s conditionality in this period). These criteria were often expressed blandly in official statements. Moreover, they were not subject to any formal and regular monitoring. The EC’s DC at this time was marked by a distinct lack of procedure and its operation by ad hoc approaches and a continuing tendency to react to events rather than trying to determine their outcome. This situation remained basically unchanged until the fall of Communism.

2.3 Formulating the EU’s conditionality in the post-Communist period: a case of bureaucratic incrementalism These deficiencies in the operation of democratic conditionality by Brussels threatened to set a pattern, for basic features of European integration – institutional diffusion together with the jealous role of the member states – were evidently at work here. In this sense the operation of DC proved to be a very dependent variable, for which reason any major improvement had to follow fundamental changes involving the EC (soon to be termed the EU from the earlier 1990s), both internally and externally. The internal change resulted from the expanding integration agenda in past decades and the regular process of institutional reform; whereas the external change derived from the radically altered international environment following the fall of Communism. The internal change was already occurring before the 1990s, as witnessed by the establishment of the Single European Market, enhanced EC intervention


in a number of policy areas (such as environmental, later justice and home affairs), the Single European Act (SEA) of 1986 – which strengthened European institutional procedures – and greater activism on the part of the European Commission especially under the Delors Presidency from 1985 to 1995. From the early 1990s, institutional reform in the EU became more regular through successive integration treaties – Maastricht in 1992, Amsterdam in 1997 and Nice in 2000. This trend was capped by the Constitutional Convention on the future of Europe which met during 2002–03 and the European Constitution agreed in 2004. These treaties showed a growing attention to political conditions and in particular human rights. Already the SEA had included a reference to the promotion of democracy on the basis of fundamental rights; while the Maastricht Treaty moved the issue along by incorporating as a general principle of European law respect for fundamental rights, as guaranteed by the European Convention of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms of 1950 and ‘as they result from the constitutional traditions common to the member states’ (article F). But it was the Amsterdam Treaty which first really gave bite to the EU’s role in this area. This strengthened the Maastricht provision by ‘stating unequivocally’ that the EU was ‘founded on the principles of liberty, democracy, respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms and the rule of law, principles which are common to the member states’; and, it provided for ‘more effective action’ to be taken to combat all forms of discrimination. Characteristic of this treaty was the greater detailed attention to this area. Also new was the procedure laid down for dealing with a ‘serious and persistent’ breach of the EU’s principles by a member state. Decisions on the matter were to be taken by the European Council (heads of state or government), where the vote of the offending member state would be disregarded. The Amsterdam Treaty, therefore, represented a qualitative jump in conditionality. It was in line with the growing practice of applying tight and regular conditionality to accession countries at this time. A tougher approach had already been in evidence over the case of Turkey at the end of the 1980s, as seen above, but this had now become written into European constitutional law. It was also, as we shall see, to be institutionalised through new procedures with respect to countries from CEE. The external change initiated by the dramatic collapse of Communist regimes across CEE and soon after in the USSR had various consequences for the promotion of democracy. As a context to this, some change concerning the priority accorded to security compared with that accorded to democracy was likely. Security concerns were now of a different order and less intense compared with the Cold War period, when DP was given a hard antiCommunist edge notably in the later 1940s when democratic rule was restored after Fascism. DC was not then regarded as necessary because fulfilling basic democratic requirements was seen as sufficient, since attention was focussed less on these in terms of close scrutiny and more on the


negative factor (the threat from Communism). At that time, democracy requirements, especially qualitative ones, were sometimes subordinated to security concerns, although this was more blatantly obvious in say Latin America than in Western Europe. After Communism collapsed, security was indeed still present as a factor behind advancing integration but it was less focussed on military threats and democratic subversion. Security concerns were now expressed more over fostering neighbourly relations, checking nationalism and stabilising the new democracies. But the new international environment carried its own new risks. The ‘balance of terror’, typical of the Cold War, had been replaced by the imbalance of uncertainty, where for instance the possession of nuclear weapons is far less concentrated than before and more open to use by rogue states (i.e. non-democracies). The latest twist in this story of relative priorities is the current period when a much increased security problem in the form of al-Qaeda driven international terrorism seems to threaten to reverse the new balance between democracy and security priorities. Paradoxically, however, this current threat has been used as a high politics argument for enlargement, certainly of North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) but in a milder form of the EU as well. There has as a whole seemed from the early 1990s to be more compatibility between democracy and security as priorities. However, in the case of the western Balkans, war dominated the agenda of several countries in this region in the first half of the 1990s making security the overriding concern. Furthermore, some countries like Serbia and Croatia were at this time no longer transiting to democracy and were excluded from programmes like PHARE. That particular situation lasted until the end of Tudjman and the fall of Milosevic in 1999–2000. Combined with the fact that the EU had initially given priority to relations with East-Central Europe (ECE), it was not surprising that the EU lacked a considered approach to the Balkans for some time and generally found it difficult to cope with the complex and fragile security environment there.38 The very fact that the new agreements now being negotiated by the EU with Balkan partners are titled Stabilisation and Association is itself indicative. Pushing democracy higher up the international agenda, the external change that came with Communism’s fall created an enormous demand for both DC and DP with the release of so many new democracies. DP was initially the greater priority because of the urgency to maintain the then fragile course of democratisation. However, political and other forms of conditionality came more to the fore eventually, with growing attention to the outcomes of this regime change and once the prospect of enlargement to the East became a growing possibility. The realisation that the EU, shortly to expand to 15 from 12 in 1995 (with the addition of Austria, Sweden and Finland), could enlarge to as many as 25 was enough to compel more serious efforts at coordinating the EU’s response to this momentous challenge.


This time, the informal and somewhat ad hoc approach to DC – as shown with the Southern European candidate countries – would not suffice. Already, the European Commission had been given the responsibility for coordinating international aid for post-Communist countries, including that from international financial institutions, this amounting to an important de facto extension of its role towards CEE. In other words, the indirect effect of this external change was to reinforce the tendency already happening in the EU of strengthening its institutions and centralising procedures. The external factor, therefore, created a new dynamic that drove the demand for both DC and DP. But it is crucial to view its impact within the context of the EU’s evolving political system that had itself acquired a new momentum. For there emerged a form of bureaucratic incrementalism whereby DC became subject to established, albeit evolving, institutional procedures. In this way, DC remained still a dependent variable, as before, only this time the independent variable (the way the EU political system functions) had changed considerably. Thus, the process whereby DC now worked was governed more by bureaucratic dictates than simply by political will. The former had not existed previously to any significant degree, while political will had previously appeared at times but not consistently so and in any case it remained rather weak as a driving force behind the early operation of DC. Taken together, these changes amounted to a very different situation for conditionality compared with the previous three decades. However, while the scope for EU activity on democratisation undoubtedly expanded, it still remains to be seen how far this has actually occurred. At the same time, it has also to be established where the limitations to this influence now lie. To begin with, it is necessary to clarify the priority in fact accorded to democratic conditionality in this new climate. This is generally evident both in the greater prominence given it in the EU strategy of enlargement as well as the persistence with which it now was monitored. It has become a strict precondition both for opening membership negotiations and for accession. One might add that the combination of DC with DP, highlighted from early on with the inauguration of the Poland and Hungary Action for Reconstruction of the Economy (PHARE) Programme in 1989, demonstrates further this priority. This has made DC less subject to intervention by high politics, although there have been instances where this has occasionally happened over CEE, that is, in the decision to invite Romania and Bulgaria to open negotiations in 1999 despite political reservations, because of their contribution to the NATO effort in the Kosovo War. More typical is the relentless way in which DC has been pursued as with Turkey over some years. But this approach has been mainly applied to CEE from the time of the Commission’s avis in 1997 and by means of its annual regular reports on the progress of accession countries. It does not, therefore, follow, with the more conducive environment, that DC has been a consistent priority. In the early 1990s, the balance between the EU’s three aims for CEE of promoting market economies, supporting new


pluralist democracies and advancing integration was somewhat different from that which prevailed later with greater attention at this stage to the first. This was simply because of the urgency of economic transformation but, also, it reflected still an element of the old integration thinking about economics first. The view that constitutional democracy was not possible without a functioning market economy, that indeed the latter formed the essential basis of the former, carried weight then in EC thinking.39 As from the Copenhagen criteria of 1993, the political and economic conditions were presented as twin objectives and were accompanied by a third set of conditions known as the ‘ability to take on the obligations of membership’, that is, the capacity for integration of prospective members. In the immediate period before the first invitations to CEE to negotiate, made in 1997, the political conditions (i.e. DC) gained a certain prominence although this was also country-variable. Some candidates presented no serious obstacle, while notably Slovakia was regarded as a difficult case because of the authoritarian inclinations of Meeiar. It was precisely for political reasons that Slovakia failed to be included in the first selection of countries for negotiations. Once these included other CEECs, from 2000, and advanced closer to actual accession from 2001, it followed that the third set of conditions became a more prominent concern. This obviously reflected a growing awareness that enlargement on this unprecedented scale was likely to take place and that the EU could be adversely affected if candidate countries had not sufficiently upgraded their capacity for prospective membership. In order to explore more exactly the EU’s scope for influence over regime change, five aspects are examined in turn with respect to the operation of its conditionality: the definitional handling of DC, whether this allowed for more of a strategy to be pursued and the changing content of DC, with a shift towards substantive democratic requirements; the changed role of EU institutions in the operation of DC; the process of monitoring DC; pre-accession institutional mechanisms and how far they reinforced DC; and, support programmes and how therefore DP related to it when combined with DC. Finally, attention will turn to other international organisations which have in this post-Cold War period responded to the growing acceptance of DC. Comparison with them will help to cast additional light on the enhanced role of the European Union as an external agent of democratisation in CEE. Definitions of democracy have not been conceptually driven nor have they strictly been influenced by a political doctrine. They have rather been pragmatically conceived and handled. As an illustration, the term ‘democratic consolidation’, familiar in regime change studies, is used rather loosely in official EU documents. It is now fairly common currency in EU circles (e.g. it is often used in the annual regular reports of the Commission on applicant states), but this does not presuppose a well-conceived approach to conditionality. Interviews with Commission and other EU personnel in Brussels involved directly with enlargement matters have suggested that


they do not have an integral view of ‘democratic consolidation’. Most knew of the term, which in a vague way is easily understandable, but few demonstrated a systematic awareness of its full implications. They did not conceptualise the term and if anything were very matter of fact about its application. This tends to reveal a distinctly bureaucratic mentality towards DC and its implementation.40 This pragmatic approach is typically shown by the informal way in which the original Copenhagen criteria were drawn up by a few people at the European Council meeting in that city in June 1993.41 Nevertheless, they became the basis for the subsequent elaboration of the EU’s political conditions. They were briefly and simply phrased: Membership requires that the candidate country has achieved stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities, the existence of a functioning market economy as well as the capacity to cope with competitive pressure and market forces within the Union. Membership presupposes the candidate’s ability to take on the obligations of membership including adherence to the aims of political, economic and monetary union. These Copenhagen criteria have commonly been held to be vague, perhaps conveniently so thus allowing for some flexibility in their application on high politics grounds.42 However, the subsequent interpretation by the Commission of the criteria has strengthened their specificity and tightened up their application. Additions were made later to the Copenhagen political criteria in the light of the experience of accession and new or increasing concern about its future impact on the EU itself. This was notably true of the increasing emphasis on the fight against corruption, prompted by growing evidence of widespread corruption in most post-Communist states. Not among the original criteria, corruption was included in the first progress reports of the Commission on candidate countries as it was seen as relevant to respect for the rule of law and the functioning of the market economy, in the latter instance as conducive to a good business environment and therefore foreign investment.43 Also, from the 2000 reports onwards, there was greater attention to a range of particular socio-economic rights such as trafficking in women and children and gender equality. In a similar way, the economic criteria became divided into six sub-criteria in the progress reports. These included price and trade liberalisation, the absence of significant barriers to market entry, a suitable legal system, macroeconomic stability, broad policy consensus and a developed financial sector as the test of the existence of a functioning market economy.44 The European Commission’s approach to the political conditions has thus evolved considerably. It has over time become more precise, prompted by


the need to improve analysis of how DC is being met. This followed criticisms of the first regular reports in 1998 that they lacked a clear methodology for objective cross-national comparisons between applicant states. That change explains the seeming ambiguity in the annual regular reports which invariably say that given countries ‘fulfil the Copenhagen political criteria’ but still need to make further progress in meeting particular stated conditions. This evolution in the Commission’s approach has led to other criticisms that it has been ‘moving the goalposts’ over political conditions. Such criticisms have been against a background of a common view among CEECs that the EU is demanding higher political conditions of candidate states when compared with member states. At the same time, the Commission has tightened up the requirement that the conditions be met before accession takes place. This demand above all marked off the Eastern enlargement from previous enlargements when Brussels had been more relaxed about their implementation after accession. As successive sets of annual progress reports have indicated, the Commission has become ever more concerned about implementation in general in the case of post-Communist countries. This was particularly evident over the third criterion relating to the ability to assume the obligations of membership. Significantly, as from 2000, this section in the progress reports was subdivided into the 29 negotiating chapters and it was now reported in far greater detail. In other words, the evolving definition of political conditions since the Copenhagen summit of 1993 has at best been incremental, at times ad hoc and is essentially bureaucratic. In effect, the Commission adopts what is known in the DP world as the ‘checklist approach’. This has sometimes been linked to the argument that there is a lack of strategy and coherence in the EU’s approach to Eastern enlargement.45 And it has certainly been one major reason cited for advocating a clearer articulation of EU standards, as for instance proposed by the Open Society Institute with respect to minority protection and judicial independence in particular.46 The absence of a comprehensive approach in the formulation of the EU’s political conditionality is undeniable. This is shown by various obvious gaps in its focal points, such as political parties and civil society in general – both key elements in the democratisation process. Parties in the new democracies are admittedly subject to their own transnational conditionality through their European party organisations while supported by both these and political foundations from EU member states. Civil society is a startling omission although the term appears in some EU official documents like the PHARE Democracy Programme, where the development of NGOs is one item; but there is usually no clear meaning attached to it and, in practice, the term is used to refer to certain specific conditions like civil rights. There would appear to be a form of elitist or hierarchical attitude behind this omission.47 It is thus difficult to argue that the EU’s political conditions represent a composite view of liberal democracy let alone offering any conceptual idea


of what kind of liberal democracy is in mind. This is perhaps hardly surprising since the EU itself, when seen as a form of political system, is distinctly sui generis – in fact, it is the product of institutional incrementalism, not of any grand constitutional design. Nevertheless, with all its deficiencies, the content of EU’s democratic conditionality has compared with the Southern European accessions certainly broadened in scope. It has moved decisively from the then essentially formal criteria, concentrating on institutional matters, to embrace areas of substantive democracy involving political society.48 This is particularly noticeable over human rights, which have in general become more of an EU concern over the past decade. The other four aspects may be treated in turn but also together in terms of push and pull effects of the EU. That is, the role of EU institutions and the monitoring process will be discussed as push effects for DC; while preaccession institutional mechanisms feature as possible pull effects. Of course, it may be that this notional distinction is muddied by complex reality; but at least this dual process offers a handle on dynamic qualities in the institutional framework for conditionality – which had essentially been lacking during the Southern European accessions. Then, we turn to support programmes as a way of focussing on DP in an effort to establish its evolving relationship with conditionality. One would expect from the enlarged EU policy agenda and its politicisation of integration as well as institutional reform to see EU institutions playing a rather important role over enlargement generally and DC specifically. This is largely true of the period since the fall of Communist rule forced a response to democratisation in CEE and with it, eventually, raised the prospect of enlargement. What, however, is interesting is the changed balance between the EU institutions over enlargement’s political dimension. Compared with the earlier accessions, the striking difference was the much enhanced role of the European Commission in determining the more regular aspects of enlargement and in controlling the DC process and its monitoring. Moreover, the Commission had been important in formulating the Europe Agreements, defining and carrying into effect the Copenhagen criteria and in operating the Accession Partnerships on the basis of its evaluation of the candidate countries. It was furthermore instrumental in introducing the principle of differentiation between them with respect to negotiations for membership. This principle allowed the Commission to use conditionality before opening the different policy chapters depending on the ‘preparedness’ of the individual candidate countries.49 This was not an exclusive role for the final or high political decisions that were taken by the European Council, where considerations other than conditionality – notably, geopolitical ones – could be decisive.50 Also, individual or groups of member states could play an influential part in determining the pace of events, notably through holding the EU Presidency and in developing closer links with, and even promoting, particular accession countries


for historical or geographical reasons. Furthermore, the Commission, although the central actor here, did not monopolise DC monitoring for the EP also produced annual progress reports on the different candidate states and in some instances these impacted on membership prospects. The EP has traditionally taken a strong interest in DC with respect to countries interested in joining the EU; and this has very much continued in this recent period of Eastern enlargement. In this way, it has tended to highlight the political over the other Copenhagen criteria and has therefore followed closely the development of democracy in accession states through its individual country rapporteurs. For this reason, it has, for example, given strong support to the PHARE Democracy Programme. In following this line, the EP demonstrated rather more than the Commission an interest in matters of civil society, such as homosexual rights in Romania and the rights of minorities in Hungary and often the role of the media in the new democracies as well.51 In September each year from 1997, the EP published an annual report on each accession country. These were much shorter and less detailed than the Commission Regular Reports and tended to concentrate on certain issues. And they tended to have a more political flavour than the reports of the European Commission, being drafted by country rapporteurs who were relatively free to develop their political views. Rapporteurs were usually well informed and became somewhat specialist about their countries. They drew on many different sources for their information and quite often visited the countries two or thee times a year.52 The Commission sometimes discreetly encouraged the EP to take up certain issues that the former might find difficult to handle. This happened over giving more emphasis than the Commission felt it could on the problem of the Roma in CEECs and over difficult political questions like publicly criticising Meeiar’s authoritarian practices in Slovakia from the mid-1990s.53 MEPs are able to intervene in a political or party-political way while officials of the Commission feel less freedom in this respect. In the words of one of the latter, the EP and for that matter Joint Parliamentary Committees with accession countries ‘can more easily flag issues’ than the Commission.54 Also, occasionally and rather informally, some EU member states made an issue of certain political conditions in particular CEECs (described by one Commission official as ‘unwritten conditionality’). Their leverage here was the ultimate weapon of a veto of a candidate state which in one case (the Czech Republic) was made explicit. This practice has focussed on a number of special issues among which that of nuclear reactors has been prominent such as those in the Czech and Slovak Republics and in Bulgaria. Austria for instance made a persistent issue of the Temelin reactor in the neighbouring Czech Republic to a degree that caused ill feeling between the two countries; and, in the end, after a succession of technical meetings, the matter was resolved through high-level Commission intervention at a meeting between Commissioner Verheugen and the heads of the two governments.55 Opinion


in Austria is particularly sensitive to matters of nuclear safety, so that geographical proximity was a factor, although populist tendencies there played a part too in acerbating doubts about enlargement in general. With the Czech Republic historical issues have been raised by Germany as well as Austria, notably the Benes Decrees, although Commissioner Verheugen and the EP eventually made it clear that this issue – which was not officially a political condition of the EU – would not affect the Czech Republic’s prospects for accession.56 Because of its authority and control over key aspects of enlargement, the Commission could, therefore, exert a relentless pressure on candidate countries over conditionality all the more as failure to meet its stated conditions could affect their progress in accession. It was, without qualification, in the category of push effects of the EU. The centrepiece of the Commission’s activity over DC was its monitoring of the political and other Copenhagen criteria through the annual regular reports on the progress of the accession countries. Following the Commission’s avis of July 1997, they were issued every autumn as from 1998 and they became increasingly detailed and lengthy (the average length of the 1998 reports was 50–60 pages of A4; while from 2000 onwards they averaged at over or well over 100 such pages). Over time more and more other international institutions or organisations were involved in their formulation. The reports were drafted in committee style and centralised by the Commission, especially the country desk in question and the EU delegation accredited to that country. But consultation with outside bodies became more extensive reflecting the growing thoroughness with which these reports were processed. By and large, their preparation took about half a year beginning in the late spring and ending with their publication in October or, more usually, November. Experts were brought together but the core role was played by a fairly small number of people working under a tight schedule. Those involved played on the side of caution, and the outcome was essentially bureaucratic in nature reflecting the working ethos of Commission officials. The process soon became more routinised and the reports more extensively prepared than the first ones issued in 1998.57 What most changed in the drafting procedure of the regular reports was the extent of outside involvement. Other international organisations have been directly engaged in providing material for parts of these reports according to specialism, such as the World Bank and the IMF on the economic conditions, the Council of Europe on human rights and Transparency International (TI) on the section dealing with anti-corruption under the political conditions. In addition, think tanks, institutes and NGOs in the countries themselves were brought into the consultation process.58 Sometimes even the government of the accession country was consulted where appropriate, although this was not a general rule.59 Other parts of the Commission were consulted, as over the negotiation chapters, or were involved in drafting sections especially on the economic conditions.60


Over time the active involvement of the Commission and the EU delegation in question varied but basically work on the regular reports was a cooperative effort with the country desk in DG Enlargement of the Commission playing the lead role.61 While the EU delegation was in regular local contact with national authorities and obtained information about the country in question from a variety of sources, the country desk kept in touch with the country’s affairs in different ways. It was usual for desk officers to follow the national press – many knew and were learning the language of the country in question. A regular source of information was the monthly reports sent from the head of the EU delegation. These tended to pay much attention to political matters, such as activity by political parties, ministerial changes and scandals.62 They were addressed to Commissioner Verheugen, the DirectorGeneral for Enlargement, the director of the country team, other directors in DG Enlargement as well as those responsible for PHARE and information strategy, the head of the DG for External Relations, the Secretary-General of the Council and the EU High Representative, that is, they were widely circulated at a top level.63 They were graded as confidential. It is evident, then, that the Commission and other EU institutions kept in close contact with developments in the accession countries. There was also some cooperation between them over exchanging information usually in the form of reports. This pattern tended to strengthen their, and in particular the Commission’s, role in political monitoring for they were able to keep in close touch with developments using a variety of sources which were mainly independent of the national governments negotiating membership or seeking to open negotiations. Country desk officers usually relied not only on daily press reviews, the EU Delegation’s monthly reports and but also material from a variety of NGOs on the country in question. Commission officials took pains to emphasise that their exercise of monitoring the political and other conditions was objective and not political.64 Nevertheless, it has to be remembered that applying political criteria is to a large extent qualitative rather than ‘scientific’ and more so than with the economic and administrative criteria set out at Copenhagen. This left open some room for political decisions about candidate countries which could be influenced by subjective or perhaps impressionistic considerations. So far we have examined essentially push factors with the EU in effect imposing conditions on accession countries. We now turn to institutional mechanisms involving both EU and CEE elites. The most relevant sought to promote ‘political dialogue’ under the Europe (i.e. association) Agreements which came into force in the mid-1990s. This required regular institutional meetings at executive and parliamentary levels, including Association councils at the ministerial level and Joint Parliamentary Committees (JPCs) between selected members of the accession country parliaments and selected MEPs. The latter met on a country-by-country basis, usually twice a year alternating between Brussels and a city in the country in question. The general


idea behind these mechanisms was to foster ‘structured relations’ and to create ‘a pre-accession atmosphere’ through the progressive involvement of the new democracies in the business of the EU. Meetings of the JPCs were intended to review implementation of the Europe Agreements and to debate issues related to the country’s accession process. The question is whether their operation had a reinforcing effect on DC or even played some part in DP. They have over the past seven and more years been a means whereby CEE parliamentarians gained expertise in EU affairs, both general and policy-specific; while the practice of meeting with MEPs has through political socialisation and networking strengthened links that would be valuable once CEECs joined as member states. To some extent, it is evident that West European parliamentary procedures and perhaps mentalities have become more familiar to elites from post-Communist countries.65 There has in fact been cross-national variation in how far and fast this has developed with some countries’ deputies slower at, for instance, making a distinction between political hostility and critical observation as in the parliamentary questioning of statements by national ministers.66 But as a whole JPC participation may be seen as a form of political experience with likely beneficial effects for democratic practices if not democratic understanding in the new democracies of CEE. Beyond that, the state of democracy in certain countries has arisen as a theme at some JPC meetings, notably at those with Romania and Slovakia in the past.67 In short, one could say that the JPCs have provided more pull than push in terms of EU effects. Support programmes from the EU are varied and also include national programmes of assistance where DP of one kind or another – such as involvement in policy fora or parliamentary training programmes – may feature. But the obvious case of outright DP is the PHARE Democracy Programme. This set out, with its twin the TACIS Programme for former Soviet republics, as a pure form of DP, although it has in recent years been adapted to preparation for EU accession. Its original aim was to support the activities and efforts of non-governmental bodies promoting a stable open society and good governance and focus support on the difficult or unpopular aspects of political reform and democratic practice, where local advocacy bodies are weak and professional expertise is particularly lacking (PHARE Democracy Programme). For a long time administered by the European Human Rights Foundation in Brussels on behalf of the Commission, this programme provided for training in a variety of political tasks, including parliamentary techniques and organisation; improving the transparency of public administration; the development of NGOs and independent, pluralistic and responsible media; the transfer of expertise about democratic practices and the rule of law to professional groups; promoting public awareness about democratic concepts


and, furthering minority rights, equal opportunities and non-discriminatory practices.68 Furthermore, its financial assistance was tied to political conditions like human rights and political stability. In other words, it aimed at furthering democratic experience at elite levels but there was a strong emphasis on aspects of civil society. In short, it was focussed strongly on substantive democracy. A salient feature of the PHARE Programme was its bottom-up approach. That is, its projects did not require approval from recipient governments and it has operated on the basis that ‘potential applicants are likely to have a better understanding of their own society than outsiders’. As the final report for the 1992–97 period noted, ‘the composition of applications tends to reflect the priorities for democracy as seen from within society’.69 Indeed PHARE was particularly successful in the development of NGOs. It was also found that ‘the EU label is very important; it raises the prestige and credibility of the recipient projects; it represents a stamp of legitimacy’ and that ‘this has been especially important in the PHARE countries, the aspiring members of the EU’,70 is an acknowledgement of the dynamic pull of the accession process so far as DP was concerned. PHARE did have its managerial problems along the way. It also had limited resources. However, relatively small sums – as seen in Western eyes – were often much appreciated among resource-starved political activists in CEE. This was, for instance, true of the Robert Schuman Institute for Developing Democracy for Central and Eastern Europe, a Christian Democratic training academy based in Budapest. For this, the PHARE Programme was ‘one of the most important financial resources necessary for the functioning of the Institute’.71 As the final report for PHARE concluded, ‘democracy assistance is a comparatively minor instrument in assisting the process of democratisation’ for ‘of its nature, such assistance can never be more than enabling, helping those individuals in society who already are working for democracy’.72 In this context, it was noted that PHARE had been more successful in CEE than had TACIS in former Soviet republics. Apart from the greater amount of funds involved, one reason was that ‘because indigenous NGO capacities are greater in the PHARE countries, the multiplier effect of democracy assistance is also greater’.73 While DP was thus managed separately from the EU’s DC process, although PHARE had its own inbuilt monitoring scheme, the two activities were nevertheless by and large complementary. This was partly because the societal concerns of PHARE complemented the more institutional concerns of the Commission’s monitoring of the EU’s political conditions. One might also add that the common context of the accession process, with its pressures and dynamic effects, tended to strengthen this complementarity. Finally, we look briefly at the role of other European international organisations with respect to democracy requirements as a way of putting the EU into comparative perspective. They vary in terms of focus but also emphasis; while,


generally, they tend to demonstrate how different the EU is both in the extent of its conditionality but also, especially, in its push and pull characteristics. The EU has so much more to offer through membership and this provides an enormous power of attraction, giving Brussels considerable leverage over accession countries. The Council of Europe (COE), notwithstanding its record in stressing human rights, has been less ambitious and rigorous in applying democratic criteria to aspiring member states. This has accordingly weakened its leverage over countries in CEE for furthering democratisation. The COE has enjoyed a certain prestige, rather more in CEE than in Western Europe. This was all the more so in the first half of the 1990s when post-Communist states successively – and, in most cases, successfully – sought its membership, which was the first serious international recognition of their movement into the democratic world. Moreover, its membership soon came to be considered as an antechamber leading through a long and winding corridor to acceptance into the EU. During the course of the 1990s these two organisations cooperated more regularly over legislation on common themes and especially on matters of human rights. In 1993, the COE set out membership conditions which until then had been only implicit. It was also responding to the growth of political conditionality after the fall of Communism. These conditions included free and fair elections, freedom of expression especially of the media, minority rights and signing up to the European Convention on Human Rights.74 However, the view has tended to prevail within the COE that it is better on balance to admit rather than refuse an applicant with defective political conditions, since socialisation into Western democratic practices is regarded as more fruitful than the possible political leverage from exclusion. This is in effect the opposite of the EU approach and it undoubtedly reflects on the COE’s much weaker position vis-à-vis applicant states. Its DC has even been criticised for lack of seriousness after admitting countries like Albania, Croatia, Russia and the Ukraine in 1995–96.75 Accordingly, the Parliamentary Assembly has increasingly attached a list of specific conditions to new members, although the accessions of Russia and Croatia in 1995–96 nevertheless caused controversy.76 Belarus has however been firmly refused membership in recent years, as too blatant an example of abuse of political and human rights. COE officials have in recent times repeated their demand that Belarus show a more convincing record of political reform before membership can at all be considered.77 It might be said that the COE carries a certain moral authority and through this it can exert pressure. But it does not possess the EU’s elaborate institutional mechanisms and networks that both formally and informally can have a significant influence on developments in the new democracies. Moreover, the possibility that countries that revert to authoritarian rule may be expelled (as was Belarus as observer member in 1997) and then later


readmitted, if democracy returns, shows how limited its integration capacity is in comparison with the EU. The Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) also defends human and minority rights and it has indeed been in recent years the sole IO directly involved with their abuse in Belarus by virtue of being uniquely located in Minsk. Otherwise, it places a special emphasis on monitoring especially at election time, as during 2002 for example in Ukraine, Hungary, Slovakia and Macedonia. But it continues to play a part in applying public pressure on different countries over the advancement of human and minority rights, such as in warning Croatia (February 2002) about possible retrograde steps over media freedom and calling on Latvia (March 2002) to consider granting language status to Russians.78 In short, the OSCE has a very focussed strategy and as such enjoys a certain prestige. While not a powerful organisation as such, it accords the stamp of international recognition to countries which carry out fair and free elections and observe strictly other democratic procedures. Its main weakness, a lack of political weight, has been evident at times in the Balkans where the OSCE’s limited focus has not been adequate for meeting the severe problems of democratisation in some countries there.79 The North Atlantic Treaty Organisation has democracy requirements but these have traditionally played a secondary role after security matters. As is well known, some member states have been authoritarian (Greece and Turkey briefly; Portugal for a long time). Since the Cold War, the military dimension of security has been somewhat downgraded.80 However, this has not led to a more systematic conditionality on NATO’s part where the political conditions are, vaguely, civilian control over the armed forces, a constitutional state, a market economy and the resolution of outstanding ethnic disputes. Western interests over NATO enlargement are above all a matter of underpinning political stabilisation within the framework of regional security.81 In this sense democratic consolidation is given more attention than it was a decade and more ago; but it is sometimes selectively applied. The American and NATO position on Slovakia in the period before the September 2002 parliamentary election concentrated exclusively on the possible return of Meeiar to power; and it was stated in black-and-white terms (and more crudely so than the EU position) to the exclusion of other democratisation factors in Slovak politics. It is clear, however, that the security motive remains uppermost. This is evident from the debate in Washington linking NATO enlargement to the ‘war against terrorism’ since 2001. Finally, international financial institutions (IFIs) have in the 1990s exercised a more decided political conditionality although this is usually presented as part of a broader concept of ‘good governance’, where policy effectiveness and institutional stability are key requirements. The organisations in question are the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD). Of these the last is perhaps the most insistent on democratic conditions through its political mandate of 1990.


Only countries that are committed to and apply the principles of multi party democracy and pluralism are eligible for loans. But even so these are subordinated to economic considerations; and, no beneficiary country has had its loans suspended on political grounds. The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD) has tended to argue that its loans are granted to private enterprises rather than governments, as in the case of Belarus.82 Altogether, there is a certain lack of clarity – if not hesitancy – in its political strategy. It is definitely in the game of a loose form of conditionality and does not engage properly speaking in DP. In summary, most of these other IOs (with the exception of the Council of Europe) follow models that are in effect those of formal or procedural democracy. This is notwithstanding the growth of democracy requirements since the early 1990s. The same may be broadly said of the USA, which of foreign powers is by far the most important actor involved in DP. But there are differences here between successive United States administrations and the considerable effort made by American NGOs. At best, it appears that American authorities tend to work with a narrow definition of formal democracy commonly called ‘electoral democracy’. Somewhat by contrast, the active world of American NGOs has among other things a very strong focus on promoting civil society through NGO development and in this capacity has played a vital part in several post-Communist countries. This activity certainly lies within the area of substantive democracy but it is of a very sectoral kind and not based on an overall model of democracy. Interestingly, too, it involves a projection of the American way of political life where, relatively speaking, NGOs play a more influential role compared with political parties than is the case in the European experience. The difference between the EU and these other IOs may be illustrated schematically by focussing on the scope of DC and DP and categorising this as either top-down or bottom-up or both. The following table summarises this with respect to the IOs already discussed: Scope and mechanisms for democratic conditionality and democracy promotion Scope and mechanisms

Top-down

Bottom-up

(1) Political-systemic (holistic approach, incl. political elite training, local government)

EU/NATO/USA/IFIs

EU(PHARE) – local government

(2) Party-political (training, transnational elite socialisation)

Transnational party Cooperation (EU)

Some very limited involvement of activists

(3) Election monitoring (pressure on governments, on-theground monitoring)

OSCE/COE

OSCE

Continued

Development of EU’s Conditionality Strategy 51 Continued Scope and mechanisms

Top-down

Bottom-up

(4) Political-societal (concern with civil society, focus on NGOs)

Some cooperation with national governments

American and international NGOs/EU (PHARE)/some EU member governments/private foundations esp. Soros

(5) Political-cultural (political education, human and minority rights)

EU/COE/political foundations (e.g. German)

private foundations (e.g. Soros)

A number of features highlighted here are evident and to some extent confirm previous discussion. First, the EU is unlike other IOs present in almost every category and combines the top-down with the bottom-up, although the former is the stronger of the two. Second, there are some IOs that are exclusively top-down in their approach and they include NATO and the IFIs. Third, there is one organisation which combines both but is relatively weak in its role, albeit focussed, and that is the OSCE. In other words, election monitoring is basically top-down but it also relates to locality within countries when the OSCE’s presence allows territorial observation. Fourth, there are some external actors that are essentially bottom-up and these are usually NGOs and private foundations. Thus, overall, the greater pull but also push of the EU compared with these other IOs is highlighted; and this in turn underlines its greater potential for influencing the new post-Communist democracies.

2.4 Applying the EU’s political conditions: from formality to reality Having examined the evolution, formulation and operation of the EU’s democratic conditionality, attention now turns to problems of its implementation. This means focussing on the domestic systems of the accession countries as seen from the Brussels perspective. That will, as before, concentrate on push and pull factors although this time by incorporating the domestic dimension of EU enlargement. In particular, more attention will be paid to differences between the main stages of the accession process. The principal dynamic points here are seen as the shift to membership negotiations, hence the distinction between the period before and after these commence, but also once negotiations move towards achievement. We look in turn at impacts from EU conditionality on the domestic levels with the push factor in mind; and, then, turn to the domestic scene properly by considering pull effects here but also resistance to these as well as possible negative effects from applying the EU’s DC and the risks faced from importing its ‘democratic deficit’. Finally, the differential pull of the EU is considered with


respect to countries which have less immediate prospects of joining the EU and in particular where their political regimes are offensive to the EU’s political conditions. In the first instance, the push factor has come – as seen in the previous section – from the forces of bureaucratic incrementalism buttressed by tight procedures of monitoring. One should add to these the relentless pace of membership negotiations combined with the considerable burden of adopting and implementing an acquis communautaire on a scale much vaster than that of any previous enlargement of the EU. Obviously, this was almost as true of the 1995 enlargement with the addition of Austria, Sweden and Finland; but, these were all established democracies and they also boasted fairly competent and efficient public administrations. Almost by contrast, the countries of CEE have in accession been still young democracies and their administrations generally did not have the capacity for coping well with the heavy and persistent demands of integration. It is necessary at this point to differentiate between the political conditions of the EU as to their implementation demands.83 Some political conditions may be accomplished relatively quickly. Thus, Slovakia’s new government from autumn 1998 was, following the loss of power by the authoritarian-inclined Meeiar Government, under great pressure to reverse that country’s failure at this level. Necessary measures included the holding of municipal elections (December 1998), a charter on local self-government, the institution of direct elections for state president (held in May 1999), and the involvement of opposition parties in parliamentary appointments. On minorities, various formal decisions were taken such as appointing a deputy prime minister for human rights and national minorities as well as establishing a parliamentary committee and a government council for the same. Finally, in July 1999 a law on the use of minority languages was adopted as a final precondition to be satisfied for opening membership negotiations.84 In short, these changes were brought about within the space of just over eight months. In other cases, institutional changes may be more complicated because they involve not just formal measures but rather elaborate procedures and personnel improvements which may take time. In the Czech Republic, reform of the judiciary was for a time slow as highlighted in the 1999 Progress Report. Following these criticisms, a whole range of further measures were planned under different headings: short-term priorities (e.g. improving the qualifications of judges and training them in the application of European law); medium-term priorities (e.g. modernising public administration in the field of justice and measures to promote judicial self-administration); and, institution building needs (e.g. rationalising the court workload and simplifying proceedings in court).85 The 2000 report on the Czech Republic acknowledged this ambitious programme but noted that ‘certain key parts of the reform remain to be adopted’. These included amendments to the


criminal code and criminal procedure code as well as constitutional amendments concerning judicial self-administration. It also noted the extraordinary length of judicial proceedings and the lack of systematic training of judges.86 The regular reports of 2001 and 2002 on the Czech Republic praised respectively the regained momentum and the further progress in judicial reform. But some political conditions are not satisfied merely by institutional or legislative changes. This particularly applies to the anti-corruption drive, human rights and the protection of minorities. In all these cases, satisfactory conditions include ultimately changes in human behaviour which are much more difficult to bring about. In virtually all post-Communist states corruption is a serious problem deriving in part from the previous regimes but also the way in which economic marketisation had operated often involving close links between economic oligarchies and public agencies and political elites. A survey of opinion in applicant states in CEE in autumn 1998 identified the weakness of the rule of law and corruption as the greatest problems facing them during accession.87 Furthermore, the EU has a strong concern for minorities and the Roma in particular has become a constant issue that is monitored. As the Commission’s strategy paper for 2000 recorded the Roma continue to face widespread discrimination and difficulties in social and economic life … In most countries where this situation occurs, measures and programmes have now been adopted, supported by PHARE funding and, in some cases, national budgetary resources. These programmes, which need to be supported by budgetary means in all countries, should be implemented in a more sustained manner, in close cooperation with Roma representatives.88 At the same time, the Commission came to realise that the problem of the Roma which is based on deep social prejudice is not going to be resolved completely before accession takes place. What it required was sufficient progress in the right direction, as indicated by statements from Commissioner Verheugen.89 But how far can the EU really promote the satisfaction of its various political conditions? Some problems are not easily rooted out and fine laws alone are in many cases not a sufficient response. Generally, national governments were under immediate and strong pressure to respond to criticisms made in the regular reports of the Commission, provided they were strongly committed to joining the EU and preferably sooner rather than later (a drive that is enhanced, in some cases acerbated, by competition or rivalry among the accession countries to be first in line). But it soon became evident that domestic factors come to play a part because of parliamentary opposition


politics and especially because of the handling of such criticisms by the media. Several national examples illustrate these points as well as some cross-national variation. As elsewhere, the press in the Czech Republic tended to follow the annual regular reports and their publication became ‘a highly political affair’ especially over some issues, according to a high official in the Foreign Ministry in Prague.90 This was particularly true of the 1999 report mentioned above, for its criticisms of the Czech Republic produced a storm of legislative action but also had a strong resonance outside government circles. Political elites, the media and to some extent also the public took it far more seriously than the previous 1998 report for this reason, but there was an element of national pride under challenge. As an EU affairs expert on one of the main daily newspapers admitted, the press usually selected the negative parts of the regular reports for this made better news; but it also, somewhat in contradiction with this, drew comparisons with other accession countries ‘to show that the Czech Republic is doing better than the others’.91 Clearly, the 1999 report made the latter difficult. As he explained, there was a problem in conveying EU matters to a fairly ignorant public, for ‘the people in general don’t understand the complex matter of enlargement’.92 Unfortunately, sensitive issues have sometimes arisen in relations between the Czech Republic and the EU or some of its member states, such as the question of Roma segregation in the north-western town of Usti nad Labem in the autumn of 1999. The Czechs received a very negative press in European countries and this added to official pressure as a result of which the local authority withdrew this measure which had been in response to local antiRoma feeling there. With Hungary, reactions have been rather different to criticisms of the country’s progress in meeting the EU conditions, at both government and media level. National pride had again been present but in a more confident if not arrogant way. As on other occasions, Hungarian elites considered their country in the forefront of the CEE accession process if not the leading candidate. The 1999 report on Hungary in fact was distinctly positive about the satisfaction of the political conditions, more so than with most other countries but the Roma and especially corruption were singled out for criticism.93 There were also EU criticisms over the freedom of the media which had been a sensitive issue in the first years after Communist rule ended. But the Government acted somewhat negatively to these, expressing some irritation.94 Two years later, the 2001 report was less critical on political grounds, although – as is usual in these reports – various detailed bad notices were given over areas of the acquis communautaire’s adoption.95 Different Hungarian newspapers reacted with marked disappointment if not disapproval of strictures from Brussels. According to the daily Magyar Hirlap in a front page article, there was a political reason behind these for criticisms about Hungary’s problems in matching up to competition in the European


Single Market were made ‘to avoid creating jealousy between Central and Eastern European states’. Meanwhile, the pro-government daily Magyar Nemzet went further in questioning the EU’s sincerity about accession; while other papers asserted Hungary’s advance position compared with other CEE states undergoing accession.96 Somewhat by contrast, regular report criticisms in the case of countries that are less advanced compared with those from ECE – such as the two in the Balkans, Bulgaria and Romania – caused anxiety and some resentment that they are being discriminated against. This has notably happened over the issue of institutionalised children in the case of Romania. These cases show, therefore, that the domestic impact of the Commission’s regular reports could be strong although selectively so; but reactions tended not to last a long time as, predictably, the media soon turned to other issues. Nevertheless, there was pressure on governments to respond to criticisms from the Commission. Debates and negative feelings over the reports, couched as they often are in national identity terms, mattered only when they affected a government’s standing or, depending on timing, came at a moment when the government in question was vulnerable on other grounds. Such episodes were a reminder that the EU’s conditionality could easily get sucked into domestic politics. There are various procedures should accession countries seriously fail to deliver on the political conditions. Here the difference between the period before and after negotiations commence is relevant, simply because in the former case the promise of negotiations is fulfilled only after due satisfaction of the Copenhagen criteria. Some CEECs felt they were victims of this requirement when they were not included among the selected countries to negotiate at the Luxembourg summit in 1997. This happened with Latvia and Lithuania because the third Baltic country, Estonia, was indeed favoured (primarily for better satisfaction of the economic conditions). It is essentially because of this pressure to succeed with opening negotiations that the EU’s procedures over serious failure have hardly been used. The exception is Slovakia under Meeiar. The EU has a range of instruments for exercising what may be called negative conditionality. They are as follows in order of severity and are addressed to the offending countries: a note verbale, which is a fairly standard (in fact, written) procedure; a démarche (meaning ‘intervention’ in French diplomatic parlance), which is a strong diplomatic message, stronger than the first; a diplomatic note, which has an even higher status; and, then an official protest, which is the most severe reprimand that the EU can issue.97 In addition, the European Parliament may issue its own resolutions over serious violations of the political conditions. Slovakia is the one case among the CEECs which failed to be invited to negotiate for EU membership (in 1997) for political reasons (which also put an end to the country’s NATO membership prospects at the same time).


Several démarches, were issued in 1994–95 by the EU through member state embassies, the EP and also the USA. These all quoted instances of undemocratic developments in the Slovak Republic usually involving misuse or violation of democratic institutional procedures and political tension in the country, as in the words of the American démarche in October 1995: ‘growing intolerance of the ruling coalition towards opposition views, an atmosphere of political intimidation and jeopardised market reform by concealed, party-based decision making in privatisation’.98 Lack of policy compliance with the elementary principles of human and minority rights and the state of law featured strongly in the resolution (November 1995) of the EP. These warnings were supplemented at intervals by public statements of Western leaders such as members of the US Government and European Commissioners along the same lines. The persistent issue throughout the Meeiar government of 1994–98 of conflict between prime minister and president featured frequently in international complaints and press coverage. Sparked by revenge over President Kováe’s part in bringing down Meeiar’s second government in spring 1994, this became very personalised and focussed on institutional powers and Kováe’s role as a de facto opposition figure in what was a polarised state of affairs in Slovak politics. Meeiar’s evident aim was to create a more presidential system. His hardly concealed glee when he constitutionally assumed most presidential powers on Kováe’s retirement in March 1998, with the parliament’s failure to appoint a successor, caused alarm and distaste abroad. Human rights reports produced by the OSCE during these years were repeatedly critical of the unsatisfactory situation inside the country. Warnings gradually conveyed the message that Slovakia’s chances for both EU and NATO membership were waning. In July 1997, the European Commission issued its avis which confirmed, in restrained language, that the country failed the EU’s political conditions ‘because of the instability of Slovakia’s institutions, their lack of rootedness in political life and the shortcomings in the functioning of its democracy’.99 In the face of this and other criticisms, Bratislava tended to be reactive rather than responsive with no attempt to rethink Slovak positions.100 The main lesson to be learned from this case is that any weakening of the determination to receive an invitation to negotiate for membership, or its absence, only undermines willingness to meet DC. By contrast, the Dzurinda Government which followed Meeiar’s gave top priority to satisfying the EU’s political conditions in an overriding determination to make up for lost time in relations with the EU.101 During actual negotiations, political conditions continue to be monitored in parallel through the regular reports. They are normally more in the background compared with the period before negotiations start. However, a really serious violation of some or all of these conditions can lead to the termination of negotiations. The procedure for dealing with this ultimate situation is slow and suggests that such violations would have to be persistent.


According to an official in DG Enlargement (European Commission), there would be advance warnings in the annual regular report, and the Commission would then set up an official visit to the offending country at the highest level. There would follow a period allowing for suitable action by the government. Failure here would be recorded in the next annual report (i.e. a year after the matter was originally raised). Eventually, if still no correction of the political violation is made, then the matter would go to the European Council which would be responsible for deciding on whether to halt negotiations for membership.102 In other words, the country’s commitment to joining the EU would be really tested. If, as is likely, this is confirmed, then the matter would not get that far. Using unsatisfactory political conditions for stalling a country’s progress with European integration was therefore more difficult once negotiations for membership were underway compared with the pre-negotiations period. Turning directly to the domestic arena, it is quite obvious then that national governments are the key actors in relations between Brussels and national elites and publics. As noted in the Slovak case, it is above all the commitment to EU accession of national governments that is the most decisive factor for, if unqualified, this drives through political conditions and it may seek to overcome counter-pressures, such as resistance from professional or corporate interests or bureaucratic lethargy though not always with success. As shown by the case of the Czech judiciary, criticisms in the 1999 progress report prompted the Zeman government to act for the sake of not halting the accession process. It is for this general reason that the EU is sensitive to instability or policy discontinuity on the part of governments in candidate countries. The 2001 annual report of the European Commission on Romania noted with disapproval that before the 2000 election ‘the legislature had been effectively paralysed by the weakness of the ruling coalition’, with inevitable repercussions on that country’s accession capacity.103 In Slovakia’s case, the instability of the incohesive multiparty coalition led by Dzurinda became an intermittent concern which surfaced in the Commission’s progress report of November 2000. This referred to tensions in this government ‘which have negatively affected the smooth progress of some politically sensitive elements of the pre-accession legislative agenda, including reform of the constitution’.104 It also mentioned the threat by the Hungarian party (SMK) to leave the coalition over the issue of administrative reform; and this issue became the main cause of the coalition crisis which followed in the summer of 2001. Thus, while the EU was pleased with the policy commitment of the Dzurinda Government it was concerned about its implementation capacity even though Slovakia’s membership negotiations continued to advance impressively alongside these political tensions. Clearly, the Commission’s growing emphasis on implementation – as in the series of 2000 and 2001 regular reports – necessitated involvement in


domestic politics, and, this raised the question of the different levels of the new CEE democracies. Very important here is cross-party consensus over EU accession for that strengthens a government’s position both in relation to Brussels but also domestic opinion. This does not in the eyes of Brussels have to exclude opposition criticisms over the government’s handling of negotiations. By and large, consistently high support on the part of national publics was seen as likely to favour the political conditions although whether it also acted as a stimulus to their implementation is another matter. It is understandable that the stage of the accession process may well matter in this respect. This is because progress and pace in relations with the EU can help to carry along and even create a dynamic in domestic political developments. Equally, any lapse in these relations may have the opposite impact of providing an opening to nationalist forces or undemocratic influences that had remained in the background or below the surface. Risks may also arise from possible negative effects of the accession process, deriving in particular from its asymetric character whereby the vast array of terms of membership as well as detailed conditions are determined by Brussels. It is up to the candidate countries concerned to accept these and to put them into force as effectively as possible. The terms are not really open to real negotiation, although a limited number of transition periods may be bargained for towards the end of the talks. This asymetric process tends to reinforce elitism or the power of executive structures, since governments being under intense pressure – indeed, continuously so – over some years may be tempted to abbreviate legislative consultation and also because the mastery of EU business encourages specialism and is essentially an elite preserve. Its effects at least during the accession negotiations period are to favour administrative values over democratic ones. For this reason, the question arises whether the EU is then exporting its own ‘democratic deficit’. However, this rather basic issue hardly featured at all in the accession countries from CEE, seeing their governments were determined to join the EU and were simply too busy managing the negotiations to complicate their chances by tackling this somewhat futuristic issue.105 Also striking was the absence of any discussion as to whether the EU model of governance – with its complex institutional structure, its strong regulatory character and its administrative ethos imbued with West European values – was at all suitable for still relatively uninstitutionalised post-Communist countries with their different historical backgrounds. CEE elites were essentially following the lines of West European conditionality, at least given the absence of any spelling out of their own conceptions of democracy.106 In other words, the pull of the EU, growing anticipation about actual accession and no doubt closer commercial and economic links not to mention aid programmes, joint ventures and cultural exchanges have together served to buttress EU conditionality. There has been simply too much at risk by pursuing alternative variations of democracy; and, for that


matter, political elites have been far too immersed in the burden of accession negotiations on top of normal government and political overload to find the time for this. This problem of overriding concentration on the business of accession has had a systemic significance for these still new democracies in postCommunist Europe. Such effects of accession have the potential for widening the gap there between elites and publics. The latter were in most of these countries already strongly cynical about the behaviour of their political elites, all the more as awareness of corruption was widespread. Whether the existence of this gap, magnified by closer relations with the EU, develops into a danger remains to be seen. Strong public support for EU entry in most of these countries suggested that the matter would not become critical before EU membership occurred; and, by then, these new democracies would have moved further along the road to their consolidation. In the event of some of these countries failing to pass the final hurdle into membership, such as the referenda, then another scenario might have developed. Attention so far has focussed on the push and pull effects with regard to accession countries invited to negotiate, therefore those with the best chance of being admitted to membership of the EU. They are the principal concern of this study; but it is nevertheless important to consider briefly those countries with no immediate or little such prospect. Difficulties arise when the EU needs to define its position towards ‘outsider’ countries where criteria can be used rather selectively especially when the media make great play with particular issues. In other words, the EU has not had an obvious strategy for dealing with defective democracies except in a negative sense of refusing progress with official links, that is, they either satisfy the political criteria or they do not. Problems arise, however, in the grey zone between those countries on track for eventual membership on the one hand and really defective democracies on the other. This is all the more awkward when EU member states are through their membership of other IOs required to accommodate transgressing countries. This happened, for instance, with NATO/American deals with the then Tudjman regime in Croatia during part of the 1990s, on grounds of stabilising or containing conflict in the Balkan region. Similarly, Western backing of Sali Berisha in Albania – including by EU representatives – involved turning a blind eye to his autocratic ways and election rigging for the sake of safeguarding strategic and economic interests there.107 It is quite clear, taking these examples, that DP was downplayed as a consequence of the Balkan wars and their effects. The category of seriously defective democracies also demonstrates the EU’s limitations, not to mention those of other IOs, as the example of Belarus shows. Relations between the EU and Belarus are virtually non-existent based on mutual estrangement, given provocation from Lukashenka’s authoritarian ways.108 Brussels has over the past few years issued occasional


statements reproving the regime but with no effect in encouraging democratic changes. Lukashenka has chosen to ignore the EU, scorning Western pressure and opinion, but has vented most of his ire on the OSCE, the only IO stationed in that country. He has placed a priority on relations with Russia as his preferred alternative. However, Putin’s closer relations with the EU (and NATO) together with signs of his hardening of attitude towards Lukashenka do not bode well for Belarus’s current position. In hard cases of democratic deficiency, marked by regime recalcitrance, there is not much Brussels can do but wait for possibly better times when the situation begins to change internally or some other dynamic sets off change. But not all cases are the same and one has to differentiate. Relations with Ukraine are in a different category from Belarus, for EU officials have maintained some kind of dialogue with Kiev. It has been one admittedly accompanied by concern in Brussels over abuses of democratic standards, while relations have been marked by some mutual misunderstanding as well as bitterness and frustration on the Ukraine side because of EU coolness about membership prospects.109 But a key variable has been the restated aim of President Kuchma that his country should join NATO and the EU. Furthermore, the IFIs give assistance to Ukraine but are reluctant to do so for Belarus. Democratic consolidation in Ukraine is a long way off but if it ever transpires international influences are quite likely to have played a significant part as became dramatically clear in the crisis over the presidential elections in the autumn of 2004. In short, both the pull and the push of the EU are considerably weakened by the absence of serious integration prospects and the difficult political state of affairs in the countries concerned. Once again, in a perverse way, the key role of national governments is demonstrated and it may be complicated by lack of elite rapport between both sides – a phenomenon that was also evident in Slovakia during the Meeiar years. And, yet, the very event of enlargement to CEE in 2004 will force the issue of relations between the EU and these ‘outsiders’, not least as there will be common borders between them. Already, the EU has begun to think about this changed situation with its ‘New Neighbourhood’ policy which offers closer cooperation with countries outside the enlarged EU without the promise of membership.

2.5 Designing democracy in Central and Eastern Europe While democratic conditionality emerged within the EU’s predecessor organisations from the 1960s, this did not become a strategy central to the enlargement process until the 1990s and then not clearly so until the second half of that decade. This followed in part from the gradual politicisation of European integration as well as changes in the powers of its institutions; but it also reflected the changed international atmosphere concerning this


conditionality and DP. Nevertheless, this was not the full explanation, for it was the magnitude of the impending enlargement of the EU together with particular legacy problems in post-Communist Europe, as seen from Brussels, which provided real motive power in pushing this conditionality strategy to a degree that was quite unprecedented. This development also distinguished the EU more than before from other international organisations, even though in their different ways they also pursued conditionality aims more than previously. It is clear too that the democratic standards contained within this conditionality strategy were determined by West European models of parliamentary democracy as well as West European views about CEE. The designing of their democracies as future member states was conducted in Brussels and was barely influenced by notions of democratic values and procedures in Warsaw, Prague or Budapest or wherever else in CEE. The drive behind the accession process, due not in the least to the ambitions of these new democracies to join the EU, explained their acquiescence here, not that they showed much evidence of alternative systemic thinking in this period. And, yet this designing of prospective members’ political systems had its faults for it was bureaucratically managed and not based on any deep thinking about the nature of liberal democracy. Furthermore, the designing was incomplete by any normal conceptions of democracy; but in the end this did not matter seriously as the deficiencies were to a large extent compensated for by transnational activity on the part of political parties and the role of international NGOs in DP at the level of civil society. Furthermore, the EU’s approach had to accommodate early democratic development in the CEECs after the fall of Communism. What gave this strategy particular force was, therefore, the prospect of membership negotiations in the first instance but then, especially, the momentum accession acquired after they commenced. The EU enjoyed, therefore, through this process an increasing pull effect with candidate countries to observe the political conditions, although the context of these clearly changed between these two successive periods. Without this pull, the ability of the EU to push such countries along the democratic path would have been far weaker. And, it was backed by a combination of relentless monitoring and DP. However, for this strategy to be really effective, the state of democracy in post-authoritarian situations needs to have advanced sufficiently in the right direction. In other words, the European designing of democracy follows rather than precedes the establishment of and first efforts in creating new liberal democracies. In that early stage of democratic transition, the pull factor is a distant prospect and the push factor is not yet in operation. This initial situation is still seen in the case of those postCommunist countries where democracy is seriously defective; and, so, the EU’s scope for pull and push is severely limited all the more when their ruling elites are dubious about the European option.


At the same time, it is obvious that domestic factors may complicate the implementation of the EU’s conditionality despite the weight on candidate countries to conform to the Brussels design of democracy. It is also true that some of the EU’s particular conditions are difficult to put into effect at least in the relatively short time frame before accession. In that event, what is required is evidence of continuing movement in the right direction in the optimistic expectation that this movement becomes irreversible once membership occurs. Overall, much depends on the unqualified commitment of national governments to European integration but even then domestic pressures and influences from the evolving position of political parties or public opinion trends can intervene. But the dynamic that comes with the very prospect and approaching reality of accession can help to contain them provided this leads to the promised aim.

3 EU Enlargement, Democratisation and Domestic Politics in Post-Communist Europe: Patterns and Problems of Motivation

3.1 Comparative perspectives on the domestic politics of EU accession Attention now shifts to the other side in the interactive dynamics of EU accession, namely the domestic politics of candidate countries. As argued in Chapter 1, pressures from here may either help or hinder national governments in their pursuit of membership; and, these are best analysed by differentiating between levels of political systems in Central and Eastern Europe (CEE). The scope for such interactions is well summarised by an early text on European integration: The [European] Community process is not confined to what takes place within the formal framework of the Community institutions. Rather it embraces a network of relationships and contacts among national policy-makers in the different member states, both directly through involvement in the Community arena and indirectly as that arena impinges on national policy processes. Consequently, the Community process … can be analysed only as the tip of a much larger iceberg formed by the domestic contexts that set constraints on each member government. In addition national policy-makers are caught up in other kinds of transnational activities including other international agencies and a variety of informal links both multilateral and bilateral. These arenas of discussion sometimes complement or reinforce the Community process, but on occasion may complicate or undermine it.1 This statement draws attention to two important and still somewhat neglected areas of European integration research: the important effects – both direct and indirect – from the interlink between EU policy activity and developments at the national levels in member states; and, the significance of 63


‘informal integration’ parallel to official EU activity, including transnational networking of not only policy-makers but also non-governmental actors. However, since 1977 when his statement was made, the scope of integration has much increased and national decision making has to a greater degree than ever before been penetrated by the EU. This has set off a dynamic process whereby growing ‘Europeanisation’ pressures may harmonise or conflict with domestic ones thus questioning Bulmer’s thesis that the logic of European integration follows the logic of decision-making processes in the member states.2 The interactive dynamics have become both more extensive and more intense and also rather more complex to allow any longer for such a one-sided judgement. Such an approach to European integration ‘from below’ is rarely systematically applied to prospective member states where an historic decision about accession is about to be made. It may be supposed that the balance between both sets of pressures is different in applicant states since they are not yet formally and fully integrated into the EU. Hence, it would seem likely that domestic pressures are more uppermost or at least play a significant part during entry negotiations because of the decisive influence of domestic policy-making structures and attitudes. Governments in applicant states have to maintain a political consensus behind their European policies, pass through elaborate parliamentary procedures and deal with different and sometimes conflicting interests as well as maintain public support. However, the asymetrical nature of accession negotiations means that governments in applicant states do not have much room for manoeuvre in playing off domestic pressures against EU demands and so have to confront all these themselves.3 Furthermore, they are under considerable urgency to adopt the whole corpus of EU legislation and that in effect is high-pressure Europeanisation. Particularly applicable to them, in this respect, is Bulmer’s other argument that national governments hold a key position at the junction of national and of EU politics and that negotiations at the EU level are between so many dependent, not independent, variables.4 Since accession governments are the central and pivotal domestic actors, it follows that their commitment to the process is crucial. For this reason, this chapter focusses on their motivation over accession to the EU and relates this to domestic contexts. Ideally, accession requires a unity of purpose with no basic reservations about a country’s future course in embracing European integration and its consequences. In other words, motivation and strategic thinking should not be seriously qualified if the drive towards accession is not to lose momentum. In reality, however, domestic pressures tend to complicate matters. Motivation needs, therefore, to be viewed both ideationally and politically. On the one hand, it is important to explore forms of motivation as encompassing a leading idea of policy direction (idée directrice) that captures the imagination of political leaders or simply fills their policy void at a time when early regime change casts aside previous assumptions about a country’s role

Patterns and Problems of Motivation 65

in the world. Of course, the post-authoritarian situation might virtually dictate the main foreign policy direction of the future, thus reducing the scope for choice on the part of new democratic elites with no real alternative. Nevertheless, there is some advantage in exploring beliefs and patterns in policy thinking because these usually reflect on the nature and strength of motivation behind the drive to join with European integration and they may cast some light on the link made with democratisation. A post-authoritarian European strategy involves a major external policy redirection involving four imperatives. It amounts to a momentous departure in a country’s politics so that motivation must include the historical imperative. This is evident in the stress on grand issues during accession and in the rhetoric of political leaders, especially those committed to EU entry. But there are other imperatives that determine motivation behind seeking EU membership, including the security imperative, the democratic imperative (the EU and other Euro-Atlantic organisations together provide a structure for guaranteeing the chances for new democracies) and also the modernising imperative (especially economic but with implications for cultural modernisation). It is clear then that democratisation is not an exclusive concern. It may of course be a major priority at least at certain stages of the process; and it is of interest how the different imperatives relate and support each other or not. On the other hand, it is necessary to contextualise domestically such a policy commitment for its pursuit may, in individual countries, be facilitated or obstructed by domestic factors or, alternatively, affected by a combination of positive and negative influences that may vary over time. Under the pressures of everyday affairs central policy ideas may become at times compromised or neglected because other policy concerns, such as domestic ones, demand urgent attention. It follows too that a government’s own standing – meaning its policy performance and how this is perceived and thus influences its popularity – is bound to impact, sometimes decisively, on external policy pursuit notably with electoral deadlines in the offing. Furthermore, one should not discount calculation or opportunism behind policy motivation; and this may be determined either by such domestic pressures or by a wish to make an impression abroad. The following three chapters will therefore concentrate in turn on the domestic political contexts in which the business of accession is conducted. Taking a standard comparative approach, one should differentiate between domestic pressures in terms of levels of political involvement and interest within candidate countries. This may be done by focussing on government and institutions and also the wider political arena, involving intermediary actors, as well as the socio-economic arena where different interests and pressures are expressed. The emphasis should be on those actors and influences that are relevant to consensus building, contention and mobilisation over EU accession. This will provide a measure of how far an applicant country’s European strategy is elite-driven, as is often assumed, or whether it has


a wider motivation or deeper forms of support. It will, furthermore, make it easier to identify from which quarters domestic problems derive during the course of what are usually lengthy and complicated negotiations for accession. From the above, a sequential structure for this and the following chapters may be devised, based on disaggregating the domestic politics of applicant states and looking at motivation as well as key actors within different interlocking arenas. It is structured as follows: (a) motivational factors; (b) governance, comprising policy approaches and institutional aspects; (c) the political arena, including parties, the media and public opinion and (d) the socio-economic arena, including different interests, pressure groups and civil mobilisation. In looking at Europeanisation pressures, it may be supposed that at the public and societal level Europeanisation pressures are least apparent and possibly more difficult to identify than those at the institutional level because they are likely to be more diffuse, given also the generally low level of information about the EU among accession publics in past and present cases. Since joining Euro-Atlantic organisations has effectively been ‘the only external game in town’ for post-authoritarian countries, this may mean that real political debate is limited. When, however, attention moves to specific issues, then the scope for mobilisation may increase since different economic or social interests can become affected by the prospect of accession. Much then depends on their own lobbying capacity and public links but clearly too the handling of issues by the media is also important. This framework postulates interactions within domestic politics as well as between that and the EU in a two-directional sense: inner-directed, with Europeanisation pressures impacting on the domestic front; and, outerdirected, with domestic pressures responding to inner-directed ones as well as originating internally. Conceivably, too inner-directed pressures may stimulate intensified interactions among different domestic actors and influences. In order to take some qualitative measure of such pressures, one may distinguish between those which are policy-substantial, instrumental or opportunistic and polemical or populist – which distinction does not of course exclude some combination of these. It goes without saying that democratic transition and movement towards liberal democracy’s consolidation is a virtual precondition of this framework. If, however, regime change persists as a problem, then we can expect some disruption of domestic politics with outer-directed impacts on Brussels, which in turn might make severe demands on any such difficult applicant state. Regime change is normally still in progress during membership negotiations with new democracies. It is a clear prerequisite that an applicant state should be on course for an unambiguous liberal democracy. Any developments that contradict this are almost certain to stall negotiations if not prevent them from being opened.


But Central and Eastern European countries (CEECs) are undergoing other transformations than the political, economic as well as in several cases stateand nation-building. Developments here may have various effects on EU membership prospects. On the economic front, severe or persistent difficulties in any key aspect – whether macroeconomic stabilisation, price liberalisation or structural reforms – may call into question future EU membership or certainly when that may take place. Given the economic dislocation that persisted in CEE after the fall of Communism, with public concern about differential effects (gainers and losers), any trend of discontent displacement against the EU becomes significant, that is, Brussels begins to be blamed for economic ills whether directly responsible for these or not. The potential for this is enhanced by EU pressure for satisfying the conditions of a functioning market economy. This phenomenon may be called exaggerated policy interlinkage where there is some justification in blaming Brussels but it becomes overstated either through the way economic policy concerns overspill into EU affairs or because of their exploitation by oppositional forces. Such circumstances may conceivably impact on the democratisation process. As to the third transformation, state- and nation-building, the risk is that this remains predominant for a time and perhaps occasions problems of national identity or provokes nationalist tendencies which might conflict with the ethos of European integration and of course of liberal democracy. While the EU has much less of a direct role to play here compared with economic change, its sensitivity to issues of minority rights does provide an area where pressure can at times be quite intense and domestic responses accordingly swift or reactive depending on the outlook of the government in power. Once again, accession concerns may have an indirect effect on democratisation. Linking regime change with the European/domestic-political dynamic involves asking how much real scope there is for external influences in general and integration pressures in particular to determine the essentials of post-authoritarian democratisation. It may be initially supposed that basic systemic choice is usually determined before Europeanisation impacts begin to count. The exceptions to this hypothesis may be twofold. First, where basic systemic choice is not made in early transition but protracted – such as when this choice is contested or controversial – then there may be more scope for outside preferences to have a direct influence. And, second, the European option may come into play early on and well before integration impacts become regular because key transition actors make a crucial link between that option about future external policy direction and their systemic commitment. These two scenarios may of course be related in individual cases, for transition actors may need to look to outside support to strengthen their systemic choice where the outcome of transition is far from clear because systemic alternatives are engaged in a struggle for supremacy. Cases in CEE that come to mind are Slovakia under Meeiar until 1998 and Romania until alternation in power in 1996 opened the way for


reforms to buttress the democratic transition that had stalled in the years before. However, if the basic systemic choice has already been made, there may still be scope for external influences in determining the way it is shaped. In other words, there may be an accepted agreement on liberal democracy but there remain different models to choose from, notably presidential, semipresidential and of course parliamentary, with another set of structural options available between centralism or federalism or versions in-between. But the EU institutions are not really in the game of dictating the secondary choice of type of liberal democracy, as is evident in the Copenhagen political conditions. Nor could they do so for the obvious reason they would never agree on any clear-cut model, as is demonstrated by the EU’s own laborious effort at its own institutional reform. Moreover, the EU member states themselves offer institutional diversity in terms of the centralism/federalism dimension while one major member state (France) is an exception to the prevalence of parliamentary forms of government within the EU. The conclusion, then, is that integration has no direct say in this secondary choice, although a case may be made that indirectly its influence comes via certain EU member states whose own systems are an object of emulation. In Europe, this is likely to encourage a preference for parliamentary over presidential government. Over time, foreign institutional models have become more and more of a reference point for constitution-makers in new democracies; but this is usually over limited institutional mechanisms or constitutional devices rather than models of government.5 There is a different and rather pertinent question that relates much more directly to the scope for European integration impacts. Under what domesticpolitical conditions in accession countries is democratic conditionality (DC) most effective; and, especially, how does the latter engage with the dynamics of ongoing regime change? This requires us to look at precisely those factors in accession countries which are central to the above-mentioned framework for discussion: the commitment of ruling elites; the effectiveness of the political system; the influence of intermediary actors; and, the – at least passive – support of society. This once more points towards the present and subsequent chapters in this book. In this chapter, we first look therefore at motivation in earlier EU enlargements and then compare patterns with the recent Eastern enlargement. These can throw light on pressure points from European and domestic directions and how interactions between them develop. At the same time, they may reveal significant differences between these and the CEE accession processes which may qualify any lessons from the past. Attention then moves on to questions of political commitment and elite understanding of European integration in post-Communist states. Finally, the four imperatives are then considered in some detail by way of assessing their motivation behind their drive to ‘return o Europe’.


3.2 Motivation and domestic politics in past enlargements The four sets of previous enlargement cases comprise founding member countries in the early 1950s as well as the enlargements in 1973, the 1980s (1981 and 1986) and 1995. We note their own differences as to the four imperatives in explaining motivation and relating these to basic trends in domestic politics in the countries concerned. The cases are grouped into, first, new democracies and then established democracies for comparing and contrasting as well as for identifying significant differences with respect to CEE. The historical imperative was decidedly strong following postwar West Germany’s escape from its recent traumatic experience of Nazism and the national shame this brought. This was also true of post-Fascist Italy, although the pain from Mussolini’s regime had been alleviated by the national uprising of the Resistance in the northern part of the country. At the same time, the security imperative was very strong now that the Cold War had embraced European politics by the late 1940s in a severe way. To some extent, this imperative was for a time more predominant than the democratic imperative, all the more as countries like Italy and the Federal Republic were frontline states in the Cold War as well as founding states in the integration process and not then subject to the kind of conditionality that affected later enlargements. The six original EEC member countries, all refounded democracies after Fascism or restored democracies after occupation in the Second World War, were therefore strictly not accession countries. They were simply required to be ‘democratic’. Furthermore, the modernising imperative at this time was not salient given that attention was mainly focussed on economic reconstruction in the first postwar years. For the newly founded Federal Republic of Germany, a fundamental link was made between European unity and the rejection of nationalism and, by extension, with the compelling need to make democracy work in a country where no viable democratic traditions had taken root. The weak attachment to national sovereignty following the collapse of the Third Reich was a factor in this outlook and it was accompanied by some support for European federalism in the political elite. But, as matters transpired with the Cold War’s impact on this frontline state’s domestic politics, there also developed a pronounced anti-Communist motive behind this complex of factors. This approach was personified in the figure of Konrad Adenauer, first Chancellor from 1949, whose own tenacious personal commitment to integration was a decisive factor in establishing this postwar external policy direction.6 The cause of European unity was built into the value system of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU)/CSU which remained the main ruling party for two decades. Such political considerations were predominant and were used by Adenauer to overcome divisions concerning the economic arguments where


the main sceptic was his own Economics Minister Ludwig Erhard.7 Adenauer’s will was all the more decisive in securing West Germany’s involvement in integration as his authority isolated doubts within his own party – particularly over the European Defence Community proposal requiring rearmament – and, given his own enduring popularity, this stemmed the then resolute opposition of the SPD to integration on grounds it would prejudice German reunification.8 In other words, Germany’s new external policy – one of Europeanism combined with Atlanticism – was launched in the early 1950s in the absence of cross-party consensus. The latter developed only once the SPD formally accepted the Euro-Atlantic policy direction in 1960. Similarly, the European and Atlanticist options provided in Italy the twin foreign policy pillars of the ruling Christian Democrats and their government partners from the late 1940s. The Fascist experience had similarly discredited the idea of national sovereignty just as European federalist ideas prevailed in some elite circles. There was also an anti-Soviet/anti-Left dimension to this policy line because of the Cold War imprint on postwar Italy’s polarised politics. This intense linkage between Euro-Atlanticism and domestic politics was more pronounced than in postwar Germany since Italy’s main opposition force was the Communist Party, which still remained loyal to Moscow although its leader Palmiro Togliatti had begun slowly to develop ideas which led eventually to the ‘Italian road to socialism’ marking an autonomous position for his party in the Communist world. This situation explained the view widely held on the centre-Right that the Euro-Atlanticist option was crucial to maintaining a democratic order. As Norman Kogan put it, in his study of Italian foreign policy in the early postwar period, the key objective here was ‘to protect the domestic social structure from internal dangers’.9 A more blatant expression of this motive came from Taviani, a Christian Democratic leader, that the ECSC could provide ‘a united front against the spread of Soviet totalitarianism’. This intense linkage between European/national policy outlooks remained strong in elite thinking among the ruling parties. In the words of Andrea Chiti-Batelli, a prominent official of the Italian Parliament, ‘European integration was not conceived as an appendix of national policy – a sort of sector, more or less removed, of the foreign policy or foreign trade of our country – but as an integrated part and priority of national policy, and first of all of the domestic sphere.’10 Hence, there developed the thesis of the ‘internalisation’ of Italian Euro-Atlantic policy after the Second World War, one linked to persistent instabilities in the Italian system.11 A parallel version of this was the belief among Italian elites that European integration was necessary to counter the ineffectiveness of the Italian state. Vital to understanding postwar Italy’s strong attachment to the security imperative was the conversion of Prime Minister Alcide De Gasperi, and of his Foreign Minister Carlo Sforza, to the Euro-Atlantic option. Thereafter, ‘Atlantic fidelity’ became a touchstone of any coalition between the


Christian Democrats and other parties notably of the Left. These political considerations neutralised doubts about the first integration projects on economic grounds especially on the part of business, doubts that were overcome by pressure through state control over some sectors of the economy and by concessions won at the European level for Italian interests.12 More than in the German case, ‘alternative addresses’ to Brussels (i.e. alternative external policy directions) were considered for a while. The main parties of the Left in opposition, including the Socialists (PSI), retained a feeling of solidarity with the Soviet Union; and there were also some neutralist tendencies on the Left (and for a time as a minority idea among progressive circles in the Christian Democrats).13 However, over the course of the 1950s the PSI, and then during the 1960s the PCI, gradually converted to European integration as a consequence of their general strategic evolution and a realisation of beneficial economic effects from Italy’s place in the EEC. Similarly, the PCI’s official acceptance of NATO came in 1976, when the party was on the verge of entering a parliamentary coalition with the Christian Democrats. Thus, Italy presents a striking case of the European/national dynamic. Overall, one may speak of a long-term convergence between the parties over European integration. It was one linked to the Left parties’ growing interest in national power (the PSI’s own change on the Euro-Atlanticist option preceded its coalitions with the Christian Democrats from 1963); and it paralleled and contributed to the very slow consolidation of Italy’s post-Fascist democracy. As in other matters of Italian politics, the parties were the basic instruments of such change for they both influenced the outlook of different socio-economic interests and played a decisive part in moulding public opinion. Thus, party-political convergence was important in extending and solidifying public support for integration which has tended to provide what has been called an ‘impressionistic commitment’ to European integration while displaying an ignorance about the details of EU matters.14 Altogether, then, the security imperative – and, to a diminishing degree, the historical imperative – remained for long the predominant factors in Italy and only eventually did the democratic and modernising imperatives come into play. The new democracies of Southern Europe, that transited to democracy in the later 1970s and joined the EC in the first half of the 1980s (Greece in 1981, and Spain and Portugal in 1986), showed some differences of motivation from the postwar cases. A more explicit and early link was made with post-authoritarian democratic transition and consolidation in these countries in their adoption of a European policy strategy. Furthermore, the European and Atlanticist options were much less closely related. This was partly because there was a strong policy continuity over defence with Portugal and Greece already NATO members while Spain had a bilateral defence agreement with the USA, so that policy initiative or redirection did not apply so much in this respect. Furthermore, NATO and the American link were controversial in post-junta Greece and post-Franco Spain because


of US support for the now disgraced dictatorships. Also, more generally because of more relaxed international East/West relations compared with the immediate postwar period, the security imperative was not nearly so strong a motive force behind the new commitment of these countries to European integration.15 The democratic imperative was present virtually from the beginning. In Spain’s case, this link with European integration was already made in Franco’s last years when it became clear that the regime’s ambitions for closer relations with the EC stalled because of the lack of democracy in that country. As a result, the EC became something of a symbol of democracy and freedom especially on the political Left, although this attitude embraced the centre-Right too during the transition years. Significantly, the Spanish government’s decision to apply for membership was made soon after one crucial democratic condition was satisfied with the holding of the first free parliamentary elections in June 1977. A similar decision to link the European option with the aim of democratic consolidation was made by political elites in Portugal and by Karamanlis in Greece. In the latter country, the European choice was adopted explicitly as a signal and deterrent to would-be dictators indicating that attempts to reverse the democratic transition would lead to Greece being ostracised internationally.16 Only in Greece was this democratic imperative qualified – by the opposition Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK) and for a particular reason coloured by the historical imperative. The party took the view, because of its somewhat ‘Third-Worldist’ ideology, that EC entry would exacerbate the country’s dependent status in relation to the West. This also reflected a special Greek complex about foreign intervention in the country’s affairs, based on historical experience – most recently, of the British after the Second World War and then of the USA. In PASOK it was also held that West European governments had not done enough to undermine the Colonels’ regime.17 This line must be seen as part of PASOK’s leftist populism at this time. A less virulent version of this outlook towards Western Europe, though one that largely remained below the surface during these years, was a certain anti-German feeling that derived from the bitter occupation years in the Second World War.18 In general, the Southern European countries were strongly motivated by the desire to escape from international isolation caused by the pariah status of their authoritarian regimes. This formed part of political elite thinking with regard to integration and democratisation and it featured as a theme in the internal debates in all three countries.19 Greece and Spain sought to put aside international isolation in opening up to Europe both economically and politically while aiming to buttress their still fragile regimes through joining an integrative organisation. For Portugal, the feeling of international isolation was less strong by virtue of the country having been a member of both NATO and European Free Trade Association (EFTA) during the dictatorship.


It was inevitable that the solution of this problem of isolation lay through acceptance by the EC, with Council of Europe membership (in Greece’s case a restored membership of this organisation) a less ambitious prize on the road to Brussels. The pursuit of the EC relationship was all the stronger because of the discredit attached in Greece and Spain to the US/NATO link – a position that also PASOK came to accept. In addition, the modernising imperative was present and it came to acquire more importance over time although more following accession than as a precondition for this. Focussed on the need to modernise economically, it was initially evident mainly in Spanish elite thinking but took hold in Portugal from the mid-1980s and rather later in Greece.20 Significantly, in Greece, the modernising imperative through integration was related to the need to overhaul the Greek state which was seen as long overdue in the eyes of reformers in the ruling New Democracy and other pro-European parties.21 Eventually, PASOK came round to adopting the modernising imperative during the 1990s but rather in its own way of defining this in institutional, cultural liberal and social justice terms.22 PASOK had already accepted European integration with its rise to power and acquisition of national office in 1981, not least because of the advantages for Greek society it found in EU resources.23 While forms of motivation varied significantly taking these different enlargements, with political considerations tending often to overcome economic reservations, broad political support for accession from all the main forces was often lacking during negotiations and this did not as a rule develop until after membership. In Portugal, for example, the Communists (PCP) opposed the EC as well as NATO membership for some time but were relatively isolated domestically. It was in Portugal particularly that ‘alternative addresses’ to Brussels were presented for a while after the 1974 Revolution. Many members of the Armed Forces Movement were attracted by a Third World orientation while others preferred closer links with the USSR and Comecon, just as obviously did the PCP. This led to accusations from Mario Soares, the Socialist Party leader, that isolation from the EC would mean Portugal ending up as the Puerto Rico or Cuba of Europe.24 Similarly, in Greece, the orthodox Communist Party (KKE) sternly favoured moving to the Soviet model since in its eyes the EC pursued relentless capitalism where accession would be ‘an international act by which Greece would decisively turn its back on the Socialist world and Socialist ideas’.25 Only in Spain did the Communist Party (PCE) take a different line but then it had in 1977 just declared itself the exponent of Eurocommunism, claiming autonomy from Moscow for parties operating within the West European context. But, then, the PCE formed part of the consensual transition process in Spain in contrast with fraternal parties in the other two countries. The link between these divergent policy lines and regime change was fairly obvious, making it all the more urgent in the eyes of democratically minded


transition actors that EC membership should help secure eventual democratic consolidation. The absence of cross-party consensus in two of the three countries meant that, with systemic considerations in mind, an enormous onus was placed on success in accession negotiations. On the other hand, in the short term, this domestic problem could be turned to advantage by versatile leadership, as in fact happened in the Greek case. The existence of PASOK’s anti-EC populism was used by Karamanlis as a negotiating pressure to move ahead to completion, all the more as the Greek public’s traditionally strong interest in external relations made Papandreou’s line all the more threatening.26 As a whole, though, public support in the three countries for European integration was markedly strong although slow in developing in Portugal.27 Turning to established democracies, the first enlargement of 1973 took in a number of established democracies so that the dictates of conditionality did not apply. Nevertheless, attention will be paid to them as well as to the three 1995 entrants (also established democracies) by way of contrast in looking at factors of motivation and national politics since that may highlight some pertinent differences from our sets of new democracies seeking EU membership over the whole postwar period. Small states like Ireland and the Scandinavian countries have sought to both gain enhanced international status but also some protection and hence security, while several in this group had to debate their traditional neutral status. In all cases, a basic policy redirection occurred which could also be called historical. In Ireland’s case, economic factors were rather important especially with regard to agriculture but the political arguments were compelling, especially the desire to break free from the over-dependent bilateral relationship with the UK.28 Accession in Ireland as in Spain was relatively consensual but not in Denmark where cross-party support was long checked by a vibrant anti-EC movement. In Britain, despite a quarter century of membership, still no real political consensus between the parties has emerged. Over time, therefore, domestic support in the 1973 accession countries has gradually but sometimes with difficulty spread across the political spectrum, though more subsequent to than in advance of accession and usually excluding the political extremes. Applying our schema of the four imperatives, it becomes clear why the British case has proved to be so difficult. Clearly, the democratic imperative did not come into play, nor did the security imperative given the UK’s embedment in NATO and the importance of the Anglo-American partnership. In fact, the last was at least in de Gaulle’s eyes an obstacle to EEC entry for Britain. The modernising imperative was present to a mild extent among pro-EEC circles, notably on the part of Heath, although given a special construction in terms of the need to modernise the British state. However, the historical imperative did not have a role comparable to that of the new democracies, which sought to escape from historical problems and legacies through the new international legitimacy accorded by EC membership. For Britain rather


it was a question of breaking with traditional alignments, such as the preferential relationship with the Commonwealth, made necessary by the UK’s rather painful search for a new international role with the loss of world power status. In other words, the UK had to abandon or downgrade its ‘alternative addresses’; and, in the view of some, this also involved a less close relationship with the USA. It required, therefore, a redefinition of the three interlocking circles of traditional British foreign policy, to use Churchill’s concept – namely Europe, the USA and the Empire/Commonwealth. The British case is instructive since it revolved around an elaborate external policy redirection in which domestic politics played a vital part. Originally, this took place in the years preceding Macmillan’s announcement of the decision to apply for membership made in July 1961 and followed agonising reappraisals of Britain’s position with a succession of milestone developments, as over the Suez crisis, the abandonment of an independent military deterrent, sterling crises together with a demand for faster economic growth and growing scepticism about the relationship with the USA.29 Undoubtedly, the fact that the young EEC, set up by the Rome Treaty of 1957, had been established successfully with evidence of strong economic growth among the member states played a part, although political arguments relating to the UK’s international role were stronger as Macmillan made clear in his statement.30 Looking back on Britain’s second attempt to negotiate EEC membership a decade later, it is clear that – again – the political commitment of the government leader, in this case Heath, was decisive. Based on his own experience of the critical international situation in the 1930s and the Second World War and a personal affinity with the Continent, Heath’s powerful commitment allowed him to drive through this policy and help overcome resistance from traditionalists inside his own Conservative party (where paradoxically he exploited traditional loyalty to the leadership).31 But, all the same, domestic constraints were considerable and included public hostility or scepticism and a growing antagonism to entry on the part of the Labour opposition. Unlike in other new member states, however, partypolitical consensus has failed to develop around the new reality even after the 1975 referendum confirmed decisively Britain’s participation in the EEC. The dynamics of government/opposition confrontation is one factor, but behind this lie persistent public reservations and also political or cultural attitudes which are immovably traditional and not readily open to new departures in national life. The idea of national sovereignty has played rhetorically a major part in this context. The UK offers, thus, an interesting case of elite preferences and public mentalities interacting in a way that inhibits the consolidation of an external policy redirection. The basic explanation of this problem is to be found in domestic politics. With the 1995 enlargement, Austria, Sweden and Finland were free to join once their neutrality constraint was relaxed after the end of the Cold War, so


that a changed international environment presaged a policy redirection. Nevertheless, a rethinking process occurred with, as in previous cases, its calculations of policy strategy and national interests as well as attitudinal and cultural factors in play. There was a recognition that neutrality no longer had the same strategic meaning as an insurance policy in security terms but, at the time of accession, there was no clear agreement on whether it was simply outdated or could be adapted. In Sweden and Finland arguments favoured the view that neutrality need not necessarily be impaired by treaty links with Brussels; while in Austria there was a more decided rejection of neutrality, which was secured by the 1955 state treaty ending the postwar occupation.32 For a time Vienna considered a revival in new form of the old Habsburg vision of a Mitteleuropa role; but the political instability and economic chaos in post-Communist countries at this time encouraged government leaders to seek a part in integration.33 As Alois Mock, Austrian foreign minister 1987–95, described his aim in office, it was important that Austria should become ‘a political factor in united Europe’ for only this could guarantee general peace against a background of the past century of international conflict, for European integration was ‘after all a synonym for peace’.34 Interestingly, there was some passing debate about national identity which focussed on Austria being an independent member state not too closely allied with Germany. This was couched in historical terms with a desire that there should be no ‘second Anschluss’, a popular fear in some quarters that was played down by government leaders.35 With the Scandinavian applicants, historical-cultural perceptions focussed on matters of Nordic identity and this became relevant in that the most characteristically Nordic-minded part of their electorates tended to be more anti-EC.36 This proved fatal in Norway’s case where it was the semi-isolated north of the country that voted decisively against membership in the November 1994 referendum, and so defeated Prime Minister Gro Harlam Brundtland’s European strategy to turn the country’s back on the similarly negative referendum vote of 1972. A strong concern about national independence carried much influence; and, an attempt by the pro-campaign to portray the issue as a battle between modernisers and traditionalists failed to make enough headway.37 Thus, historical factors, if they appeared, tended to play into the hands of the anti-EU opposition; while security considerations were vaguely present but were not strong enough to be called an imperative except possibly in Austria’s and to some extent Finland’s case. Much of the debate actually revolved around the disadvantages of not joining the EU now that the single market was operating. But it is not, on the other hand, conceivable in the Scandinavian cases to speak of either a modernising or a democratic imperative; but, rather, of the contrary. There was an element of doubt, especially among Swedes, due to the belief that their country did things differently and better than in the rest of Europe and that the Swedish ‘cradle’ of security, safety and the welfare state would be dismantled or that the


country’s high environmental, social and welfare standards might suffer. This was coupled with a concern that the advanced Swedish economy might actually suffer from joining the EU.38 In Norway, separateness retained a special appeal not only because of an aversion to the term ‘union’ (identified with national history of first Danish and later Swedish rule until 1905) but also because of the complacent idea that ‘We’re fine as we are.’39 The attitude to democracy was in effect the reverse of the imperative that operated in post-authoritarian situations. Both in Norway and especially Sweden there was a strong sense of democratic self-determination and an attitude, critical of the EU’s bureaucratic procedures, which argued that membership might conflict with national democratic traditions of open debate, public information, parliamentary accountability and popular consultation.40 In other words, a concern about national sovereignty was directly linked with the democracy question or rather, as it is now better known, the ‘democratic deficit’ in the EU.41 It is especially in the Scandinavian cases difficult to distinguish entirely between motivation at the elite level and motivation in terms of popular attitudes. This is perhaps significant as the two affected each other especially during the referendum campaigns. This illustrated how much domestic politics came to the fore at this stage of the accession process. Looking back over past enlargements of the EEC/EC/EU, it is soon apparent that vital differences – some of them predictable – are present between new and established democracies. For instance, the historical imperative is much greater with new democracies, allowing them to draw a line under the discredited past and to seek a brighter future within European integration. This suggests that expectations might in their cases be rather optimistic, certainly compared with established democracies where historical factors have tended more to act as a disincentive for the policy departure that comes with applying for membership. It is obvious, too, that the democratic imperative applies to new democracies but cannot do so to established ones. But there are also differences within these two groups. To some extent, these come from different time contexts, for the security imperative was much more powerful in the postwar regime changes after the fall of Fascism than three decades later in Southern Europe, where the priority was reversed with the democratic imperative taking priority. Among the established democracies, motivation can be quite nationally variable with, in the 1973 entrants, national sovereignty being regarded as an obstacle to membership for the UK while Ireland by contrast sought membership almost as an assertion of national independence, in this case in confronting the historical relationship with the UK. And, the Scandinavian countries stand apart with their particular concerns about losing their standards of life and way of governance as well as, in the 1995 cases, their neutral status. Moving on to CEE, it becomes clearer that differences are stronger than any similarities. First, EU accession in CEE has been accompanied from early


on by a broad consensus in applicant countries. This has undoubtedly facilitated Eastern enlargement at the national levels. Second, this consensus is perhaps all the more fortunate since the CEE applicants have undergone a more arduous change process than applicants in previous enlargements so that the pressures on domestic opinion have been heavy. The Mediterranean accessions involved new democracies that were primarily concentrating on political change, although they had also to undergo some economic restructuring and modernisation but at a pace much less intensive than that recently witnessed in post-Communist countries. Furthermore, CEECs have had to accept far more European legislation than in the southern enlargements, simply because in the intervening two decades so much EU policy expansion and action had occurred. Third, on the EU side, the whole business of Eastern enlargement has been on a scale which is quite unprecedented. Whereas previous enlargements have entailed usually three countries (1973 and 1995) or three in two stages (Mediterranean enlargement in 1981 and 1986), Eastern enlargement has involved initially eight entrants (plus two new Mediterranean member countries) with other CEECs countries like Bulgaria and Romania and perhaps Croatia and others in the offing. This has meant a much greater competitive pressure between candidate countries and rather less room for manoeuvre as the EU, under this unprecedented challenge, could not be too lenient. Thus, this burden of accession magnified the risks for accession countries from CEE and intensified their fears of the consequences of any delay in accession and thus their ability to hold the momentum and consensus behind the drive for accession. Fourth, while motivation has shown some similarities with that witnessed in the case of earlier new democracies, the very different international environment surrounding the accession of CEECs has dictated some different priorities among the four imperatives but also different perceptions of them. While historical and democratic imperatives are certainly strong, as one would expect in new democracies, the security imperative is rather pronounced in CEE but in a very different way compared with post-1945 Europe. At the same time, the modernising imperative has taken on a distinct systemic quality with economic transformation from state-run to market economies, a change reinforced by the EU as a precondition for accession. This major development tends to disinguish the CEECs from the earlier new democracies in Southern Europe.

3.3 Political commitment and elite understanding in post-Communist accession countries From the analysis of previous enlargements, two features are however salient: the importance of personal commitment on the part of key political figures – usually heads of government – and elite understanding of European


affairs. Both have some relevance to regime change politics; and, both will be explored in turn with respect to Central & Eastern Europe as an initial component in our analysis of motivation there over European integration. It is arguable that individual figures enjoy more scope in transition situations because they have the opportunity for determining and establishing a new external policy direction; and, also, as they may play a more decisive personal part in early democratic governments compared with later when policy procedures have become more routinised. In short, they may be typed as ‘policy pioneers’, of which there are several instances in previous cases of new democracies – Adenauer in the Federal Republic, De Gasperi in Italy, Karamanlis in Greece and Soares in Portugal. As we have seen, personal commitment may also play a significant part in established democracies that wish to join the EU, but they are usually much more subject to domestic constraints (as the case of Heath showed during British negotiations in the early 1970s). Elite understanding is quite vital in directing a country’s accession. This is not simply a question of grasping the complexities of integration in both its institutional and its policy dimensions, essential to negotiations, but also of understanding the diverse mentalities in the EU institutions and its member states. There is a connection here with an understanding of democratic values and procedures in general. In CEE, it is possible to identify heads of governments or other leading figures with an adamant commitment to Euro-Atlantic integration. They may include Mikulas Dzurinda and Eduard Kukan in Slovakia, Alexander Kwagniewski and Bronislaw Geremek in Poland, Adrian Nastase in Romania and Simeon Saxecoburggotski in Bulgaria to name just a few. But none of these, whatever their intrinsic qualities, could claim to be commanding charismatic figures comparable with the four examples mentioned from previous enlargements, who used their public authority to broaden the appeal of this policy direction, with the possible exception of Kwagniewski during the Polish referendum on EU entry in 2003. Their commitment to integration was shown in their official statements and the relentless consistency with which they pursued this aim for their countries. In general, political elites in CEE accession countries were suitably committed to the objective of integration, as will be shown below by default when looking at the limited purchase given alternative external policy directions. There are nevertheless some prominent cases of figures who evidently did not share the ideological or historically inspired motivation to engage in European unity similar to that found among political figures in Western Europe. But Vladimír Meeiar in Slovakia, Václav Klaus in the Czech Republic and Victor Orbán in Hungary present somewhat different examples, reflecting perhaps certain national differences. Meeiar’s cultural background (e.g. his lack of knowledge of West European languages), his provincial populism and his rebellious and occasionally explosive temperament made it difficult for him to relate easily to EU elites. While his government formally pursued


integration, he lacked a strategic sense here while instrumentally recognising advantages for Slovakia. On several occasions, he abrasively asserted national sovereignty and allowed domestic political considerations to interfere with his European policy sometimes for short-term reasons.42 Meeiar’s approach to EU elites showed at times an inferiority complex, but underlying this was a failed appreciation of political mentalities on their side which essentially explained some of his misjudgements. At the same time, Meeiar’s incomprehension at some reactions he produced among Western leaders revealed the same lack of mental engagement with them.43 Václav Klaus, often typed as East-Central Europe’s most prominent Eurosceptic, had some advantages over Meeiar in his command of English and his affinity with things American, especially the entrepreneurial spirit. He was unusual among CEE leaders who blessed Euro-Atlantic integration in toto, in that he distinguished between membership of NATO, which he did not question, and of the EU, with which he had serious intellectual and political problems as an organisation. Sometimes he liked to compare European integration to socialism and Brussels to the distant rule from Soviet Moscow, meaning the loss of recently acquired national sovereignty.44 His scathing and increasingly negative attitude to European integration showed contempt for its ideology45 and was combined with an assertion of the idea of the nation in a manner that recalled de Gaulle in the 1960s.46 So far as he represented any Czech trait, it was his self-confident and cynical discourse; although, admittedly, President Václav Havel represented a very different approach on the same question. Victor Orbán, prime minister of Hungary 1998–2002, was from a younger generation than the other two national leaders and represented for some a certain elite arrogance associated with his country. This featured in his somewhat youthful impatience with the EU’s delay with Eastern enlargement and the belief that Hungary was, as it should be, ahead of all other CEE applicants and should not have to wait for them. His style of semi-nationalist rhetoric and his pushy pursuit of Hungarian interests did not fit easily with integration ideology. That was apparent in the fervour with which in 2002 he obstinately advocated the Hungarian status law, granting privileges to Hungarians in other European countries, despite the tension this caused with both Brussels and CEECs like Slovakia and Romania. In effect, Orbán was not so easy to read as Meeiar and Klaus being somewhat ambiguous in his approach to the EU, although there was no doubt about his desire to see Hungary in the EU as soon as possible.47 The other noticeable feature about political figures in CEE is that there were many cases of heads of state who played both a rhetorical but also diplomatic and influential part in their countries’ evolving relations with the EU. This is despite the fact that they were working in parliamentary systems where they do not possess executive power.48 But this is relevant in that presidential incumbents have tended to hold national office longer


than prime ministers, given the fairly regular alternation in the new democracies of CEE, and they therefore provided a factor of continuity. Cases in point are Václav Havel in the Czech Republic, Vaira Vik¸e-Freiberga in Latvia, Alexander Kwagniewski in Poland, Emil Constantinescu in Romania and – surprisingly – Ion Iliescu in Romania in his reelected capacity from 2000. Commitment to integration, and generally to their country’s full acceptance back into the international community, becomes clear in their major public statements like Kwagniewski’s remark that NATO membership for Poland had been his main achievement in his first term so EU membership would be his main aim in his second term; or, in their very regular visits to EU institutions, member states and other European countries as in the case of Vaira Vik¸e-Freiberga, president of Latvia from 1999, to name one among many such examples.49 The two cases of Havel and Iliescu are symbolic as the first was a dissident and the second a former Communist leader albeit one who broke with Ceaubescu’s policy line during the Communist regime. This illustrates, taking prominent examples, of how the strategy of Euro-Atlantic integration gained conviction among figures from contrasting backgrounds. Havel was particularly active in foreign policy during his long tenure as first Czechoslovak and then Czech President 1989–2003.50 For him, European unity soon became a central concern as expressive of European civilisation, as representing ‘a democratic community of democratic states’ and, not least, as a force for overcoming nationalism. There was a distinct historical sweep to his ideas and views about integration.51 While Havel’s commitment followed readily from his dissident role when he maintained discreet international contacts, that of Iliescu was slow in coming. There was no evidence of this during his first presidential term until 1996, but Iliescu changed significantly during the following four years of opposition when he read widely and reflected.52 This resulted in a changed mentality about the EU for, according to a close observer, ‘he’s no longer puzzled by the apparently non-logical priorities that Brussels surprised Romania by earlier’, such as institutionalised children and adoptions, over which earlier ‘he got irritated’ while now ‘he has mellowed a lot on that’.53 This revealed a more open-minded attitude towards political issues as generally about world affairs.54 There is evidently some awareness of his place in history colouring the outlook of a septuagenarian; but, however mixed his motives, Iliescu showed in his second term as president 2000–04 a more positive attitude towards the Hungarian minority and one more tolerant of political opposition as well as being willing to add weight to the government’s negotiations for EU membership and to travel abroad as a high-ranking advocate of this cause.55 One obvious factor in political leaders’ capacity to relate to European integration is linguistic skill. This clearly makes for easier transnational elite communication but it also is mentality forming on the basis of language’s link with culture; although admittedly it cannot be taken as an absolute


indicator of elite understanding of European affairs. Meeiar’s lack of knowledge of Western languages (he knows Russian well and has a weak understanding of German) is in his case related to his inability to comprehend EU elites. By contrast with the Meeiar government of 1994–98 (few of whom spoke foreign languages and more often than not Russian rather than a Western language), quite a few ministers in Dzurinda’s first government spoke several foreign languages, such as Foreign Minister Kukan (English, Czech, Russian and Swahili).56 Kukan’s diplomatic experience in the Communist period and after explained this skill, but that was itself typical of many Communist officials who had greater freedom and opportunity to travel abroad before 1989 and subsequently became politicians in the new democracies of CEE. President Iliescu of Romania is another example, being fluent in English, French, Russian and Italian.57 However, not all linguistically versatile leaders in CEE are fully reconstructed Communists, such as the former dictator of Serbia, Milosevic, who ironically speaks good American English.58 It is now evident that linguistic ability, especially a command of English, has become more and more widespread among political elites and senior civil servants in post-Communist countries. This is directly related to the EU accession process, with for example Brussels helping with funds for language training such as for national members of parliament in CEECs. While linguistic ability undoubtedly facilitates communication and networking at different levels of government, including the bureaucratic, with EU institutions and member states, its deeper effects are difficult to assess. In the absence of research on the wider elite understanding in CEE of integration affairs, one is left with the impressionistic and anecdotal. Studies of elite understanding about European integration in CEECs are few. They suggest a serious lack of such understanding; but most are dated being based on evidence from the start of membership negotiations if not before. Thus, a study of attitudes to integration in CEE, published in 1999 (based on data no later than 1998, therefore at the point of the first negotiations with just five of these countries), concluded that ‘there is widespread and deep ignorance and lack of understanding about the EU, including among the policy elites’.59 Nevertheless, some cross-national variation was already evident at this stage. Comparing two of the Luxembourg group of states that commenced negotiations early in 1998, Poland evidenced in the same study ‘substantial ignorance about the EU across different groups and many misunderstandings’ whereas in Estonia there seemed ‘a good understanding within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the nature of EU bargaining and the strategies available to a small state’.60 Estonia’s edge here seems to come from both having prepared better for negotiations but also, as suggested, from being a small country – it is simply easier to adapt a state administration in terms of size of personnel than in a much larger country. However, it should be remembered that


policy experts in EU affairs are usually a relatively limited group in accession countries taking into account relevant civil servants, parliamentary committees of European integration and experts in policy institutes. Other nationalspecific explanations are worth mentioning. For instance, it was noted before their negotiations commenced that in Bulgaria and Romania political rhetoric was more in evidence than a true understanding of what integration entails. This feature of elite behaviour was seen as helping to account for highly positive public expectations of EU accession, especially in view of the tradition of étatisme and dirigisme in both countries.61 One however relevant feature is the appointment to influential positions in European policy of younger personnel, given they are less likely to be tainted with the Communist experience and generally show a greater facility with foreign languages and partiality for travel abroad. For instance, Alexander Herlea, Romanian minister for European Integration 1996–99, designedly brought young people into the state administration and provided training programmes for them precisely because of what he saw as the ‘problem of mentality’ from the totalitarian period (which in Romania was severe).62 The author’s own contacts with European integration departments of different ministries in Bulgaria showed a prominence of young, intelligent and well-educated people in key positions.63 This generally limited understanding of integration in CEE should be qualified in two ways. First, an ignorance among elites in previous accession countries suggests this is a common problem at this stage although, conceivably, it is greater in post-Communist countries because their elites were in most cases more isolated from Western Europe before regime change compared with Southern European countries at the same stage (e.g. Spain began to ‘open up’ certainly to greater economic links in the final decade of Franco’s rule). And, CEE elites were obviously more isolated than established democracies in Western Europe before they started the long process of seeking EU membership. Second, regular elite contact and networking with EU circles may provide a vaguely linear progression in European political learning; but it undoubtedly intensifies once membership negotiations start simply because of the heavy procedural demands and preparatory work involved. There is, notably, a shift from the general to the specific. Eduard Kukan, Slovak foreign minister, expressed this just before EU negotiations commenced in early 2000 that the first year of the Dzurinda Government culminating in his country’s EU’s invitation to negotiate was ‘the year of poetry’ but that 2000 would be ‘the year of prose’, that is, relations with Brussels would be more mundane.64 The context, content, pace and expectations of relations with the EU are different, forcing greater realism about integration matters on the part of elites directly involved in negotiations which last several years – in the case of CEECs between less than three and less than five years, taking the Luxembourg and Helsinki groups together.65 Whether the consequently


greater expertise in EU affairs also leads to a better understanding of integration is likely but is difficult to measure.66 One should remember that the acute time pressures dictated a focus on the everyday with limited opportunity to reflect. One may almost speak here of a procedural form of motivation. Thus, it is evident that there has been a trend of political learning about European affairs among CEE government elites although with some variation. This shows a growing familiarity with institutional procedures and policy-making inside the EU. Political commitment and elite understanding of European affairs clearly have an important bearing on motivation behind the CEECs in their drive to join the European Union. We now explore this motivation conceptually in reference to the four imperatives discussed above with respect to earlier enlargements.

3.4 The ‘return to Europe’ and the four imperatives In post-Communist states, the dominant theme has been of a ‘return to Europe’ to the virtual exclusion of alternative orientations (which in effect meant continuing to look eastwards for a preferential relationship). Developing a relationship with the EU and its member states has been seen as the best means for overcoming the ‘artificial’ divide in Europe between its western and eastern halves over the previous four decades. Remaining uncertainty over the geopolitical intentions of Moscow also compelled these newly released countries to look westwards. Furthermore, the systemic collapse and the geostrategic reordering of international relations at this time virtually determined this reorientation in the external policy of CEE states. The two linked factors of domestic change and international reassessment provided the logic in this reapprochement with democratic Europe. This fundamental and fairly early reorientation of external policy by CEECs is therefore reasonably clear in terms of overall outlook. It does, however, become more complex and thereby interesting when examined more closely. In turn we take first the historical imperative, then the democratic, followed by the security and, finally, the modernising and economic. They will be discussed in terms of motivational drive and their relative importance while account will be taken where necessary of cross-national variation in their salience. The historical imperative The historical imperative behind the basic policy redirection from east to west has been present from the beginning. It has been highlighted in speeches and statements by leaders from both the EU and CEECs about the historic importance of Eastern enlargement. In a speech in Bonn early 1999, Slovak Foreign Minister Kukan remarked: We also see an integrated Europe as a guarantee of the peaceful, secure and stable development of our continent. For Slovakia, the current


development is a historic chance to become permanently one of the developed European democracies with which our country is closely connected, geographically, historically, culturally and, in particular with regard to values. Slovakia has not always been on the sunny side and more events have happened to us than we have made happen. But that was in the past; now Slovakia lives for today and especially for the future.67 On the EU side, historical-style rhetoric was invariably found. It formed part of the appropriate diplomatic discourse during accession negotiations although there were other motives sometimes. This rhetoric could be driven by special bilateral relations, for example, statements from Schröder, the German chancellor, about the historic importance for Poland to be included among the first entrants in any enlarged EU reflected the need to draw a line over historical problems between the two countries. It was also used at times when negotiations looked difficult and the deadlines unrealistic. Such an occasion was in the summer of 2002 when the final stage of enlargement before the Copenhagen summit threatened to unwind. Prime Minister Rasmussen of Denmark, shortly to take over the EU presidency in this crucial stage, issued an impassioned plea: Even a small delay in a decision on enlargement might result in a long postponement of enlargement. Can you imagine the disappointment in the new democracies in Central and Eastern Europe which have liberated themselves and prepared themselves? … We have the historic opportunity to unite the continent by finalising enlargement negotiations in December. We cannot afford to miss it. We have an historic and moral obligation. I urge all responsible politicians in Europe to grasp the historic chance of reuniting Europe. The time has come to deliver on promises.68 This kind of grand political rhetoric has sometimes being linked to geo-strategic and security concerns as well as the need to reinforce democratisation. As shown in reference to the ‘return to Europe’ theme, it involves both a rejection of the recent Communist past but also an attempt to recapture the further past in the sense of pan-European connections albeit in a rather different setting from the interwar period. This historically conditioned will to make up for past mistakes was above all led by Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. It featured in the argument debated during the 1990s about Central Europe being European in a way that demarcated this region from countries both further east (especially Russia) and to the south in the Balkans (where culturalist viewpoints were voiced pointing to a Catholic vs. Orthodox/Muslim divide). To some extent, it was a case of ‘history’ being utilised for new political purposes. This mixture of negative and positive motives is particularly evident in some Balkan countries, which have viewed the EU as offering a political if not economic and geo-strategic escape mechanism – and a permanent one – from


that region’s troubled past and present. Slovenia quickly and successfully extricated itself from its Yugoslav entanglements in the early 1990s and insisted rigorously on its Central European identity, a self-perception deeply felt in Slovene politics and society.69 ‘Escaping’ from the Balkans is now unmistakably a theme among political elites in Bulgaria and Romania, which have been negotiating for EU membership since 2000 and in November 2002 received invitations to join NATO in 2004. In Bulgaria, the consensus among political actors about national interests being met by Euro-Atlantic integration has remained overwhelming and such historical imperatives help to reinforce this. Romania has more than Bulgaria felt concern about being left outside this process and stuck in a ‘grey zone’ between west and east.70 This comes from the common view that Romania is the laggard in the accession process (for which reason Bulgaria has refused to be too closely linked with Romania in EU membership talks) which has encouraged a fear of marginalisation and some sense of inferiority in relation to West European elites.71 This concern in Bucharest of being excluded was painfully evident over the European Commission’s avis of 1997 on the basis of which decisions were made to select some CEECs for EU membership negotiations and not others. The shock in not receiving an invitation was due partly to unrealistic Romanian expectations and a failure to understand Brussels’s mentalities.72 But it was also affected by national pride and the view that Romania was subject to unfair criticism abroad (even though the avis had duly noted progress made by the country in meeting the Copenhagen conditions).73 Issues of national identity have arisen in some cases and have acquired a historical dimension. But, as a whole, they have not been presented in conflict with the values of European integration. Occasionally, the view was voiced that national sovereignty, recently regained after Communist rule ended, will soon be ceded to Brussels, but this is most common in those states that were previously part of a larger political system such as Slovenia in Yugoslavia and Estonia in the USSR. In Slovenia, initially, integration was the main goal per se but subsequently questions of identity came into the debate and sometimes featured over specific issues such as in relation to land ownership from abroad and therefore ‘foreign interference’.74 But this has not seriously harmed the political consensus there over accession. There has also been some official thinking accepting the view that European integration may help to reshape national identity. According to Foreign Minister Rupel, in an article about national identity in the EU, it was important for Slovene values to be recognised but the EU will help his country to ‘drop some of our negative traits and adopt positive ones’ including entrepreneurial initiative, broad-minded attitudes and human solidarity (‘that would replace traditional Slovenian vindictiveness and envy’).75 In Estonia’s case, cautiousness about compromising national independence came from its experience under the USSR as shown in suspicion towards the


term ‘union’ in reference to the EU.76 Such concerns about national sovereignty have usually remained unfocussed and are rarely politically driven in an anti-EU direction. Political consensus in Estonia has been strongly pro-accession; and only in Lithuania among the Baltic states has there been a small Eurosceptic movement which argues that EU membership would be detrimental to national identity and independence.77 Poland is by far the largest of the CEE applicants but there consensus among main political elites accepted that the country’s interests and identity will be enhanced through membership. Only in fundamentalist Catholic circles were reservations expressed in terms of Western liberal and secular threats to traditional Catholic values, but such sentiments were not always channelled politically.78 The desire to ‘Europeanise’ national identity was also found among countries whose identity did not need defining. The Czech Republic was formally a new state but one with fairly strong self-confidence where continuity with the Czechoslovak state (and its institutions and buildings in Prague) helped. In the discourse of its first democratic leaders ‘Europeanisation’ was synonymous with coming to terms with the wider international environment.79 On the other hand, the thinking of Romanian elites was vaguely similar to that in the post-Fascist new democracies. A frequently cited motivation for joining the EU was to leave behind the most painful moments in Romania’s history and especially the now strongly discredited Ceaubescu period of excessive personal despotism.80 As the Romanian foreign minister put it, ‘it is a moment when the historic chance is opening in front of Romania for a stable identity, together with Western Europe, and cannot be missed’.81 Historical legacies and memories have also complicated European policy in some cases, notably vestiges of anti-German feeling in the Czech Republic. They appeared, most painfully, over the issue of the Benes Decrees and the expulsion after the Second World War of Sudeten Germans; and, as revived discussion after 1989 of the Munich Agreement of 1938 showed, historical memories were very painful. Attempts were made at reconciliation early on, such as through the establishment of a bilateral commission of historians and efforts by President Havel to promote reconciliation and fashion a new type of relationship.82 However, this historical legacy has not seriously affected broad support among the parties for Czech integration into Europe. It helped that in 1997 a Czech/German Declaration of Mutual Relations was signed to rid the two countries’ bilateral relations of past tensions and to show a political will to break with the past.83 Indeed, the EU is widely perceived as the optimal framework for coming to terms with past issues and for bilateral reconciliation.84 Relations between Poland and Germany have been rather less fraught because of past hostility once outstanding issues like confirming their border were resolved in the early 1990s. There has been a drop in the feeling in Poland of being threatened by Germany and there is a recognition that the Federal Republic is fully integrated in Western structures and is firmly democratic.85 Relations between


Warsaw and Berlin have developed significantly, have been institutionalised and are now underpinned by extensive local twinning arrangements, and there is thinking in both capitals influenced by the example of the FrancoGerman special relationship within the EU.86 The systemic significance of the historical imperative for regime change comes from the frequent link made in political statements between concurrent and concordant change in domestic and external spheres. In other words, these countries were, in seeking EU accession, consciously joining the democratic community of nations. There was also an expectation that Euro-Atlantic integration would promote cosmopolitan over provincial outlooks and thus indirectly favour new democracies in the face of nationalist feelings. The democratic imperative Official statements by leaders from CEECs have tended to make a strong link between this and the other three imperatives. This has come from a sense that rooting democracy is interdependent with other concurrent forms of systemic change, notably the economic. As Bronislaw Geremek, Polish foreign minister, remarked at the time Poland commenced EU negotiations early in 1998: ‘Poland accedes to the negotiations with the conviction that our membership in the European Union is the most profitable choice for reasons of national security, stability of the democratic order, quick and stable economic development and the building of a modern civil society.’87 As a whole, Polish European policy has been marked by a wide variety of motives ranging from the pragmatic (like ensuring foreign direct investment and facilitating prosperity) to the idealistic (such as embracing European values, anchoring the country in Western civilisation and making democracy more solid) where democratisation is certainly a priority but is not necessarily an overriding concern.88 This pattern highlights a difference from Southern Europe’s democratisation in the late 1970s and the way leaders there conceived of the political effects of European integration for their countries. In Southern Europe, leaders like Karamanlis in Greece, Soares in Portugal and Juan Carlos underlined consistently the democratic imperative, above all, in seeking EC membership even to the extent (notably in Karamanlis’s case) of using this as an argument for banishing doubts in EC circles about taking in these countries with their then much lower socio-economic development. This compelling rhetoric was not entirely absent in CEE elite circles, especially in the first years after the collapse of Communist rule (as on the part of Czechoslovak leaders until 1992) but it was as a whole not so prominent. This difference may have been influenced by the fact that Southern European leaders were already much more networked than their later CEE equivalents in the established democracies of Western Europe before regime change commenced. Karamanlis lived in exile in Paris during the Colonels’


dictatorship, while Soares was regularly present at Socialist International gatherings before the 1974 Revolution. Exceptions in post-Communist countries were former dissident figures like Havel who had kept open some links with Western countries or some among the new political elites who had been exiled in Western Europe or North America. There was otherwise initially after Communism fell a sense that different understandings of democratic thinking, not strictly in line with standard liberal democracy, influenced some thinkers and groups in CEE, especially in ECE.89 But this early tendency did not significantly influence political elites who eventually came to accept and not question EU’s version of democratic standards. Finally, one should remember that quite common in many post-Communist countries were former Communist elites who, reconstructed to a greater or less extent, came from a rather different background of political socialisation however much they now observed the rules of political pluralism. But, that apart, the main reason for this difference over highlighting the democratic imperative compared with the Southern European situation was that the latter was for much of the time (and certainly until EC accession) concerned almost exclusively with democratisation. Economic change in the form of modernisation rather than systemic transformation came largely after EC membership occurred. By contrast, the CEECs have been undergoing multiple systemic change before accession because the demands and dynamics of economic transformation to marketisation have demanded early attention; but also because of the EU’s own conditions which have to be satisfied before EU membership negotiations begin. In other words, these different forms of concurrent change meant that CEE leaders were very conscious of them all and also of their possible interactions. In turn, the blackmail factor – also present earlier in Southern Europe – was used to threaten that, unless Brussels granted membership, then these fragile new democracies would be endangered but so would their other systemic aims. In early 1997, for instance, the Hungarian Prime Minister Gyula Horn expressed concern over the prospect of delay in EU accession by reminding Brussels that European integration means ‘hope for the strengthening of Hungarian democracy, the guarantee of national independence and our international security’.90 When however attention turned to direct links with European integration as distinct from indirect effects on democratisation from the other imperatives, there was a widespread perception among CEE political elites (government leaders, opposition politicians but also policy advisers, policy institutes and the epistemic community) that the EU and its ongoing enlargement were central in their process of democratisation if not crucial to its successful outcome. Thus, key Polish government documents about European policy in the latter half of the 1990s conceived of it as a strategic goal or even anchor of the transformation process for consolidating democracy as well as securing systemic reforms and accelerating economic development.91 But


another difference from Southern European elites is at the same time apparent. This is the much greater degree to which liberal democracy has been a received model of politics in post-Communist countries, essentially because of Brussels being much more demanding about more extensive political conditions compared with two decades before, as discussed earlier in Chapter 2. This outlook may be read from both official statements and more informal discussions with political elites, as conducted in research for this book.92 One consequence of the EU’s relentless conditionality policy is that moving along the democratisation path has come to be viewed to some extent as a means to the end of gaining EU accession; although the opposite mentality of undergoing the grind of accession for the sake of democracy was also encountered.93 Such attitudes reflected a certain logic of appropriateness that the right way to conduct political affairs was to conform with official European standards. This could easily be matched with the failure of CEE elites to conceptualise their own form of democracy or think aloud about alternative forms of democratic procedures or democratic behaviour.94 Pleasing Brussels was evident here as was, in particular cases, perhaps a lack of confidence among some CEE elites. Furthermore, the EU provided an important mechanism for political learning (acquiring or honing democratic skills as well as offering informational advantages), a channel for influencing indirectly domestic actions through European policy impacts on domestic choice, an eventual opportunity for career advancement (via EU institutional posts following accession) and, not least, a framework within which new democratic elites could become more easily legitimated especially if integration received widespread approval within a given country’s political and socio-economic arenas.95 All these factors reinforced elite commitment to integration and its political requirements. Altogether, then, the democratic imperative was very present but it was far from being exclusive of or even superior to the other imperatives in the minds of CEE elites. In a sense, this expressed a realism in that rooting new democracies in their post-Communist settings required parallel attention to both security and economic considerations. At the same time, the democratic imperative was also instrumental. ‘Convergence’ with European standards of democracy was undoubtedly a means for achieving EU accession but also this was crucial more immediately to opening negotiations for membership. This instrumentality behind the democratic imperative did not have to have detrimental consequences for these countries’ democratisation paths. As acknowledged in the democratisation literature, elite adaptation is fairly important as a precondition for democratic consolidation and inevitably this contains an element of calculation and opportunism.96 Furthermore, once these countries have joined the EU and become locked into its activities and procedures any lack of conviction about what has happened becomes increasingly irrelevant to the future of their new democracies.


The security imperative A distinction should be drawn here between direct or military security as provided for by NATO membership and the broader sense of security, including ‘soft’ security matters, that comes from joining the EU such as in relation to questions of justice and home affairs. This distinction has a bearing on political consensus as NATO has been more contentious than the EU in several countries (such as the Czech Republic, Slovakia and Bulgaria), all the more after NATO action over Kosovo; but not in those where the security imperative is high such as the Baltic republics and Poland. But how much linkage has been made between NATO and the EU and does controversy over the first affect the second in domestic politics? Political actors have not greatly exploited this linkage because of their strong consensus over the EU and wish not to disturb this, except for some extremist parties hostile to NATO. Given public opinion being in many cases more antipathetic to NATO, they ran a risk of losing control over opinion in the event of too much instrumental linkage between these parallel issues. Moreover, no CEE country has prioritised NATO over EU entry – although this was true earlier of the Baltic republics – nor obviously have any of the three new NATO members of 1999 lessened their efforts to join the EU.97 Nevertheless, EU and NATO memberships have tended to be bracketed for many CEE elites in the concept of Euro-Atlantic integration. This comes from an overall sense of security – or, rather joining a ‘security community’ – deriving from dual membership of these to some extent complementary organisations. Security advantages related to EU membership include a strong commitment by Brussels of political solidarity with new members. This is seen widely as a de facto form of security guarantee. The securing of the EU’s enlarged borders containing successful CEE applicants, direct participation in the EU’s common foreign and security policy and the fact that, with enlargement, relations with further post-Communist countries located just outside these new borders are likely to change, probably in a positive direction are all seen as favouring international security in a more pan-European way.98 In general, the security imperative behind integration has been very strong due to the new instability in Europe that has come with the end of the East/West division. Systemic change, both political and economic, of the magnitude witnessed after 1989 creates its own uncertainties about effects and outcomes, so that this imperative was obviously present from the beginning. It is also much recognised that new democracies are more likely to survive when embedded in the new European security architecture.99 By and large, these precepts have been held by ruling elites in all CEE applicant countries; but there are some cross-national variations as to the intensity with which the security imperative has been pursued and as to specific reasons for doing so. In Poland’s case, a historically vulnerable geopolitical location was bound to explain a strong security motive behind the drive for integration and it


unsurprisingly related to the resolution of the ‘German factor’ in Polish politics.100 The similar location of the Baltic republics, together with historical memories of Nazi and Soviet occupation in the Second World War as well as postwar Sovietisation, has meant that the security imperative has been accorded a special if not sometimes overriding priority in integration thinking to an extent that EU membership has become ‘securitized’ there. The power of this motive was shown at the time of 1997 decision to invite Estonia but not the other two countries to negotiate for membership – which alarmed Latvia and Lithuania because of the considerable value they placed on the EU.101 Security was also a significant enough factor there in domestic politics to discourage opposition on other grounds such as national sovereignty to EU accession.102 It is also not surprising that the security imperative has been pronounced on the part of Bulgaria and Romania, the two accession countries in the Balkans – a region that experienced brutal warfare in the half decade following the changes of 1989. Romanian policy-makers were, for instance, very conscious in the later 1990s of their country’s sensitive geopolitical location between the recently war-torn former Yugoslavia and less stable republics from the former Soviet Union. For Bucharest, therefore, acceptance into the EU as well as NATO had a special poignancy for stabilising and consolidating the new democracy and market economy, both of which had been regarded as rather precarious in recent years.103 In both Balkan countries, the security imperative was enhanced because of a special expectation among their political elites that external support was essential to seeing their countries through their processes of transformation. One obvious characteristic of nearly all these CEECs enhanced the security imperative behind their pursuit of Euro-Atlantic integration. This was their status as small states, with Poland and Romania being exceptions in terms of population size. Some of the CEE states, like Slovenia and the Baltic republics had populations of just a couple of million; Slovakia had more than five million; while others like Bulgaria, Hungary and the Czech Republic ranged between eight and ten million. Clearly, joining an influential and closely knit international organisation like the EU has a security meaning which is especially compelling for small states.104 This in turn provides an additional reason why, in contrast with some established democracies in Western Europe, the post-Communist candidate countries have not made a special issue of national sovereignty during their accession processes.105 At the same time, countries like Poland and Hungary have ambitions to play an influential part in the EU.106 The modernising/economic imperative This imperative has taken several different forms and has occasioned some ambiguities on the part of some CEE applicant states – more so than with the other imperatives. There is also the question of priority accorded this


imperative. Whereas in past enlargements, political arguments for accession have usually outweighed – in some cases, far outweighed – economic arguments; in post-Communist countries the economic imperative has been rather more to the fore because of the systemic transformation in this sphere. This has naturally enhanced expectations attached to the supposed benefits from European integration in terms of material outcomes and approximation to Western standards of living. The theme of modernisation may have many faces and, to some extent, they have appeared in the context of Eastern enlargement. An association with newness, the modernisation of the state and of economic governance and even varieties of socio-economic modernisation have all surfaced here.107 By and large, modernisation has been associated with economic development and the chances offered for this by European integration. Typical of this way of thinking is the summary of Slovenia’s interest in this respect in integration by that country’s foreign minister: Joining the EU will speed up Slovenia’s development. Slovenia will be given an opportunity to make up its developmental lag and overcome its small size. Adapting to EU standards will enhance rationalisation and reduce costs. By integrating into the EU and adapting to its standards, we will boost economic growth and increase national income … Slovenia’s integration into the EU will greatly assist its economic progress and the modernisation of key activities.108 But there are limits to this modernising discourse in CEE notably in areas of civil modernisation and with respect to ecological modernisation. In the latter respect, the EU’s ideology of sustainable development, which it adopted officially in 1992, has not really had much effect in post-Communist countries. This is in part simply as the question of environmental costs has surfaced quite heavily in negotiations over the EU’s environmental chapter. Otherwise, traditional features of their societies which have occasionally appeared in debates about European integration have in the least advanced cases discouraged a commitment to sustainability. Economic advantages envisaged from embracing European integration include access to markets and trade development, a positive if not powerful stimulus to foreign direct investment, a greater sense of economic certainty and a reinforcement of the practices of the market economy.109 As before with southern enlargement, a strong desire for EU financial transfers is present and is particularly found with the two poorest Balkan countries of Bulgaria and Romania.110 Above all, too, there is the compelling desire to achieve prosperity – an expectation created by the much higher living standards enjoyed by EU member states. The growth in trade between post-Communist states and the EU during the course of the decade and more since Communist rule ended has of course


provided an extra dynamic to this imperative although here cross-national contrasts in economic development between some of them – such as between Slovenia on the one hand and Romania on the other – should be noted. It is no surprise that economically more fragile new democracies like Romania have also seen a protective purpose behind joining the EU. A concern about membership as a mechanism for controlling the effects of globalisation has appeared in some recent policy thinking in Bucharest, as indicated by the foreign minister’s statement: There is an increasingly obvious concern of the world leaders to minimise the negative effects of globalisation. The European Commissioner Pascal Lamy reminded us recently of a new concept, that of ‘controlled globalisation’, showing that the EU, through its structure and functions, is a real lab for controlling globalisation. Logically, the integration into the EU represents one of two strategic objectives for Romania. The membership of the EU assures us protection against the negative effects of this phenomenon.111 Also particularly noticeable in the two Balkan countries is the expectation that Brussels should assume an outside responsibility for these countries’ development. Shortly after his election as Bulgaria’s president in 1996, Petar Stoyanov warned the European Commission that his country faced financial ruin in his appeal for help which was couched in terms implying that the EU should be morally responsible for Bulgaria’s plight.112 In Romania’s case, the country’s medium-term economic strategy of 2000 was worked out in close cooperation with the EU as well as the IMF and the World Bank. This was a remarkable example of direct outside intervention in central national policy-making dictated by Romania’s economic legacies from the Communist period and inability to master the necessary economic reforms.113 No reservations were expressed in Romania about this manifest qualification of national sovereignty. In general, though, the main immediate focus of the economic imperative with regard to EU accession has been on carrying through and completing economic transformation from state-run to market economies, as required by the Copenhagen condition about post-Communist countries each having ‘a functioning market economy’. While all these countries had already embarked on marketisation, although Bulgaria and Romania less successfully than the others, the dynamics of EU accession undoubtedly provided a strong pressure to speed up this change. This has in turn acerbated economic hardship in these countries as well as creating a more painful awareness of the distinction between winners and losers in economic transformation. However, the extent to which the EU has in effect contributed to this hardship has not been realised so widely although political and economic elites are only too aware of the connection.


Altogether, therefore, the modernising/economic imperative has its negative as well as positive aspects. Its longer-term consequences in terms of civil and economic modernisation should, taking the important precedent of Southern Europe, eventually provide depth to regime change in the new CEE democracies. However, the shorter-term inconvenience deriving from it may, particularly if economic transformation effects remain harsh, have some slowing down effect on democratic consolidation. This comes from the overriding priority of these countries in securing EU membership – one might say at almost any cost.

3.5 Motivation and democratisation in post-Communist Europe There is significant scope for the EU to influence democratisation trends in post-Communist countries, although this is limited by their regime change developments before integration really impacts. This influence comes essentially from the EU’s leverage over accession countries. The asymetrical nature of membership negotiations, with these new democracies accepting the rules of the European integration game, namely the Copenhagen conditions as well as the whole legislative corpus of the EU, provided the pressure through which this influence was exerted. For CEE applicant countries, implementing the political conditions became a means to a strategic end. But that does not have to mean that leaders of these countries lacked conviction about European democratic standards. For central to this enlargement process was the momentum provided by elite motivation in Central & Eastern Europe. On balance, therefore, pressures over accession were decidedly in favour of the EU compared with those from domestic sources; but this was not without the consent of policy-makers in applicant countries. A crucial factor was the commitment and will of governments there over joining the EU and staying the course of membership negotiations. Cross-party consensus matters as does consistently high public support for an optimum scenario; but committed governments still possess advantages domestically because interests and publics engage slowly with the specifics of integration and these advantages may hold for some time provided the accession process does not stall. Furthermore, in CEE the EU enjoyed during the accession years strong prestige and legitimacy and this tended to inhibit outright opposition to membership. Any deeper understanding of the accession process has therefore to confront the question of motivation behind enlargement, especially on the part of accession countries. Motivation is invariably multifaceted and, as we have seen in focussing on the four imperatives, it may vary considerably when considering the different waves of enlargement and especially when comparing the CEECs with previous new democracies but also with established democracies that have sought to join the EU’s predecessors.


As demonstrated, this variation in motivation is much greater between waves of enlargement than among countries seeking accession at the same time. From this, it is possible to see differences between earlier accession countries and the post-Communist states. Supporting democratisation has been central to CEECs seeking admission to the EU, as was also the case with the then new democracies in previous enlargements. Obviously, the democratic imperative most distinguished all these cases from established democracies on the accession path; and, it is possible to argue that this imperative – buttressed by the desire to escape international isolation (as with Southern Europe) or international separation (as with CEE) – provided the decisive motivation that was really lacking with the established democracies examined above. But, despite the CEECs’ strenuous efforts to meet the EU’s strict democratic standards, this imperative was far from being exclusive or consistently dominant if only because there were times when their priorities between the imperatives varied cross-nationally as well as temporally. Beyond that, it was sometimes difficult to separate or isolate the four imperatives and – this being so – they tended rather more to reinforce than conflict with each other. Suffice it to say therefore that, taken together, they provided a very compelling motivation for CEECs to achieve membership above all else. One may furthermore note that the uncertainties of the new and not yet settled structure of international relations after the collapse of Communist rule and the dissolution of the Soviet Union gave added force to this motivation and to a degree not present with the new democracies in Southern Europe which encountered a more relaxed international environment. These considerations help to explain why consensus over accession has been much broader in CEECs compared with accession states in previous enlargements. At the same time, they faced a much more demanding process of accession since the EU’s conditions have been decidedly more stringent and less predominantly political while the European legislation they had to accommodate was much vaster than during earlier enlargements. Altogether, the accession process in CEE provided an insightful case study in how long-term strategic objectives combined with the sheer grind of negotiations and their concentration on the minutiae of policy matters. How these Europeanisation pressures related to the different levels and the complexities of domestic politics in CEE accession states – with their national governments balancing these opportunities and constraints – is the grand theme of the following chapters.

4 Post-Communist Accession Governments: Policy Orientation, Institutional Adjustment and Implementing Democratic Conditionality

4.1

Europeanisation and democratic governance

It is sometimes maintained that distinguishing between Europeanisation and democratisation is really impossible.1 But that overstates the problem if one accepts that: (a) the two processes are autonomous and originally separate for post-Communist democratisation commenced in 1989–90 before integration impinged seriously over accession; and (b) a distinction is possible between direct democratising effects which are more easily distinguishable (notably through implementing the EU’s political conditions) and indirect ones which may be more difficult to isolate. The latter may, for example, arise from participating in EU institutional mechanisms such as the joint parliamentary committees ( JPCs) and from the involvement of Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) ministerial personnel in the EU’s decisionmaking processes, whether through their presence at European Council summits or most of all their immersion in membership negotiations. Indirect effects are, of course, more likely to occur once Central and Eastern European Countries (CEECs) are member states. Such reasoning about the Europeanisation/democratisation relationship raises again the question of what is meant by the former. In a broad sense, Europeanisation should include democratisation since this embodies ‘European values’ even though, as explained earlier in Chapter 2, the definition of the EU’s political conditions is not equivalent to a rounded interpretation of democratic consolidation for that was bureaucratically formulated rather than politically (or, for that matter, academically) conceived. But, in practice, Europeanisation more often than not – at least in EU parlance – refers more narrowly to executive institutions and particularly policy-making and policy harmonisation as became evident in the increasing emphasis on state capacity during accession by CEE. 97


When applied to enlargement, Europeanisation involves adjusting to EU governance in terms of institutional procedures – already dictated by the compelling need to organise membership negotiations – and, more basically, of strengthening state capacity as highlighted by the EU’s ‘third condition’, namely ‘the ability to assume the obligations of membership’. The pressures exerted by the latter could be seen as reinforcing democratisation through the institutionalisation of democratic governance. In other words, the basic institutions of new democracies have already been determined, but their elaboration in terms of secondary rules and procedures and their embedding through effective practice have still to be accomplished. Clearly, the EU has much to offer here to prospective member states by way of procedural ideas and rules, institutional templates and in general the experience of governance in Western European societies. But Europeanisation also impacts through the adoption and implementation of the vast corpus of European legislation as set out in the acquis communautaire, not to mention the EU’s parallel economic conditions with its institutional implications. In other words, the political conditions are indeed an important component of the accession process – and one that can at times be rather visible – but there are other priorities which may not always harmonise well with the dictates of democratisation. So much change coming from Europeanisation, conducted invariably at a rapid pace – what Ágh calls ‘forced-course development’2 – creates enormous governmental if not systemic overload at a time when new democracies are not yet settled or perhaps robust enough to withstand such pressures. Given that accession shifts attention very decidedly to governments and elites, one immediately observes where Europeanisation could have possible negative effects on democratisation. This question is necessary in view of the shift in the relationship between democratisation and Europeanisation that comes with moving from the first stage of pre-negotiations (when the political conditions are in the forefront) to the following stage of membership negotiations and their increasing pressures to deliver on efficiency and effectiveness by candidate countries. The danger comes thus from the bureaucratisation of relations with Brussels and the effect this might have on the domestic political process through the possible distortion of decision making at the cost of political involvement and consultation.3 This tendency may or may not have lasting effects on post-Communist democratisation. Hence, the question of efficiency versus democracy is posed. The distinctly top-down process of accession, favouring elitist tendencies, has occurred at a time when political institutions and political elites in CEE have lacked credibility. This is due to Communist period inheritances (associating the state with the now discredited one-party system) but also to widespread public perceptions in the subsequent period of regime change that the new democratic political class have looked to their own interests above all else. That creates potential problems for still new and as yet unconsolidated

Post-Communist Accession Governments 99

democracies in CEE where the governing elites have been only too eager to please Brussels for the sake of accession (and who have either not found the time or had the inclination to devise their own views on democracy). Hence, it is conceivable – at least in this important respect of legitimating political authority – that Europeanisation may help to delay the achievement of democratic consolidation. There are further considerations when debating how the relationship between Europeanisation and the institutionalisation of democratic governance may not always run smoothly. The EU’s political conditions are constructed with essentially Western norms of parliamentary government in mind, so the question arises as to whether these conflict in any way with the patterns of democratisation as established in CEECs or whether the fairly mechanical transfer of institutional procedures is less problematic than expected. Thus, it is important to view the pursuit and application of such conditionality within the wider context of the politics of EU enlargement within a dynamic setting. At the same time, such a focus can demonstrate that the pull/push effects of convergence and enlargement are not always straightforward, for they can as a matter of course run into difficulties and constraints from routine government business. Seen in this light, it is not just a simple question of the EU backing and strengthening democratic consolidation – which is its official aim – for, as theory on transnational relations underlines, integration pressures are invariably subject to mediation and filtering by domestic political structures. Furthermore, the EU itself operates by means of different institutions, programmes and networks and it does not always follow that they relate well to each other, for they may contain mixed and conflicting elements that may or may not seriously impact on the overall dynamics of change. Hence, different tendencies are often present when applying the concept of Europeanisation to enlargement and taking account of its impact on regime change. At a higher level of discussion, these kind of broad considerations – representing different and sometimes contrary tendencies – are important to bear in mind when attempting to extend European integration theory to the field of enlargement studies. How much is the wish to satisfy conditionality deep rooted in CEECs or is it essentially driven by circumstances and the sheer pull of European integration? Initially, this depends on prior progress in democratisation and in particular the degree of democratic commitment and experience acquired by ruling elites. It is also supposed that governments are willing to undergo temporary inconvenience and short-term sacrifices for the sake of the ultimate goal of EU membership, indicating a strategic approach. At the same time, the success of governments in achieving this goal is significantly enhanced or seriously constrained by domestic factors like state capacity, the current political standing of the government in question and the nature of different national-level pressures. Accession governments thus find


themselves at the point of concentration between EU demands and pressures and domestic responses whether in the form of compliance or resistance. In noting this, it is worth recalling that other domestic actors often do not share the same strategic sense as governments; and so, the onus on the latter to maintain domestic consensus while coping with the monumental overload deriving from accession is considerable. It follows that the momentum of negotiations and the real prospect of achieving entry to the EU can prove decisive in maintaining this strenuous act of operating between two sets of pressures on the European and domestic fronts. With these background themes in mind, this chapter considers in turn external policy reorientation in CEE, its evolution and the link with democratisation (thus developing from the discussion of motivation in Chapter 3); institutional adaptation and reform of the state within the period of accession (in effect, focussing on the theme of Europeanisation) and problems of implementing the EU’s political conditions within the domestic context (i.e., focussing on the theme of democratisation). As in Chapters 5 and 6, we shall look at what facilitates convergence with the EU as viewed from the vantage point of domestic politics in accession states.

4.2 Democratisation and external policy reorientation Altogether, there was much scope for the EU to operate leverage over CEE states concerning its conditionality because the European policies of CEE states were at the accession stage essentially responsive. That is, the European option having been taken in external policy by these states, it was this that largely drove acquiescence with conditionality demands. The commitment to liberal democracy and to European integration were bound up with each other in terms of policy motivation, as we have seen. The action of implementing the changes required by Brussels was a direct consequence of the ‘return to Europe’; and this action had various influences on the course of democratisation and certainly through the speed with which they occurred. As shown earlier in Chapter 3, the democratic imperative was not exclusive in driving that policy reorientation after the collapse of Communist regimes. It therefore remained a significant but not always a dominant consideration and an instrumental approach lay behind satisfying the EU’s political conditions which were essential to achieving the ultimate prize of membership. What we consider here is the degree to which this particular motivation affected policy direction in the period before and during accession negotiations and how it actually connected with the enlargement dynamic. As a whole, the democratic imperative was always present and provided an essential legitimacy to the drive towards Europe. However, various patterns in elite thinking in CEE cast some doubt on the general depth of this link between the external policy option and systemic choice. Political


elites generally understood from early days that the first entailed the second, namely that the ‘return to Europe’ went hand in hand with securing liberal democracy. That was obvious from the EU’s political expectations; but it was also likely on the part of these new democratic elites who were themselves beneficiaries of recent regime change. However, a certain polarity was evident with the pro-Western/pro-liberal democracy combination finding its virtual counterpart among that minority of elites in CEE states who apparently had some reservations about democratisation or were suspected of doing so. This alternative policy preference was either present in the form of political sympathy which looked east – as in the case of the first Romanian governments after Ceaubescu4 – or it featured in an emphasis on economic links with Russia with an EU-unfriendly undertone. Such economic interests and networks with Russian connections, often manipulated by former Communist apparatchiks, carried political influence in some quarters in many CEECs, thus sometimes qualifying the overwhelming desire to ‘return to Europe’. Significantly, however, the consensual rhetoric about the ‘return to Europe’, the international credibility of the EU and the widespread discredit attached to the former Communist regimes prevented such policy alternatives from being voiced strongly or openly. Rarely were violations of European political norms through domestic practices carried to a point of rupture with European organisations, as was notably evident – among CEECs aspiring to join the EU – on the part of the Meeiar government in Slovakia in the mid-1990s. More blatantly, the Lukashenka regime in Belarus uniquely based its Eastward orientation (and growing personal despotism) on a nostalgia for the old Soviet Union; but then Belarus was not a serious prospect for EU negotiations. More to the point, these alternatives were gradually discredited by the growing drive towards the EU, the operation from the mid-1990s of the Europe Agreements and the various influences, informal as well as formal, that derived from membership of other European organisations like the Council of Europe (COE) and the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) and Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) and from growing economic and political links with the USA. This became only too clear, for instance, after the fall in 1997 of the EU-hesitant Videnov Government in Bulgaria as a result of the economic disaster there following its reluctance to implement economic reform, for it was succeeded by a reformist-minded government with a pro-EU agenda. Also dramatic was the redirection of Slovak European policy after Meeiar’s electoral defeat in Slovakia in 1998, replaced as he was by a much more decided and unambiguous approach on the part of the Dzurinda Government towards the EU and NATO. However, the growing sense that there was no real alternative to the European option often discouraged reflection on the consequences. When Slovenia formally adopted EU membership as the strategic goal of its foreign


policy as early as March 1991 – known as ‘The Basis of Slovenian Foreign Policy’ – there was no comprehensive analysis of the costs and benefits; and this was also true of the signing of the country’s Europe Agreement in 1996. Decisions were simply taken in the general political belief that Slovenia had no alternative but to ‘join the club’. In any case, as the Slovene case shows, the concern at this stage was primarily with economic and security benefits and not particularly with political questions like democratic conditionality.5 Exceptionally, political issues relating to European links came to the fore and could force attention to the democracy issue in the first years after Communism. In June 1990, Romania obtained a bad name for the violent suppression by miners of opposition groups which had demonstrated in the centre of Bucharest. This action by the miners was provocatively praised by President Iliescu; and there followed international condemnation which extended beyond Europe to the USA. Romania had only just opened diplomatic relations with the EU in February and was therefore at the outset of Euro-Atlantic integration; but the reaction among the Romanian authorities was hardly one of collective regret. The Romanian foreign minister at the time, Sergiu Celac, asked for a special meeting of the cabinet but encountered opposition from the prime minister. Together with the defence minister, he put pressure on Iliescu to force such a meeting at which the prime minister made an intransigent statement about not exaggerating the event which was ‘instigated by a dark Fascist group’. According to Celac, this crisis set back Romania’s opening to Europe ‘by at least six months’ but it did not appear to have caused much reflection among ruling circles about democratic conditions in that country. He also added that the EU had not in any case at this time developed its political conditionality in the specific way it did later in the 1990s. However, the Council of Europe provided then an important international pressure for democratic conditions and joining that organisation (which Romania did not achieve until 1993) was thus the government’s top priority.6 In fact, international pressure over democratic conditions in the very new post-Communist democracies was at this time expressed mainly by way of principles rather than exerted through institutional procedures that required timed and specific responses. There were various other reasons as from the mid-1990s for the absence of reflection about democratic standards and the virtually automatic acceptance of political requirements determined in Brussels. First, there was a general lack of discussion or debate about EU affairs including their political dimension because of the broad cross-party consensus over European integration in nearly all CEECs seeking accession. This discouraged differences being aired publicly out of a concern that could be detrimental to a country’s EU chances or even its image abroad, an attitude that revealed a certain self-subjection to Western European demands but also, perhaps, a lack of understanding of and experience with the practice of pluralist politics at this early stage. It was particularly noticeable then in Hungary, an accession


country that became noted for the tight way in which it effectively managed its process towards the EU. As noted within the parliamentary committee on European Integration Affairs, the attitude prevailed there that inter-party divisions over foreign policy should remain under control as an internal matter lest foreign leaders view Hungary as unstable. One member of the committee put it frankly: ‘Hungarian policy dealing with European Community relations must be founded on a consensus; the absence of a consensus harms the interests of the entire country.’7 The main exception then to this attitude that causing problems over the EU’s political conditions could damage the chances of receiving an invitation to start membership negotiations was found in Slovakia during the Meeiar Government of 1994–98. But this exception really proved this rule and provided a warning to other CEECs. It was precisely the politicisation of democratic conditions in that country – both internally between government and opposition, but also externally between Bratislava and Brussels – that blocked any chance of an invitation to negotiate coming from the Luxembourg summit in late 1997. In the year before Slovakia’s negotiations commenced in early 2000, the EU’s political conditions were discussed much in that country’s parliamentary committee on European integration. This was hardly surprising since these were at the forefront of Bratislava’s relations with Brussels following Meeiar’s ejection from power in the autumn of 1998. But, once negotiations started, there was a shift in the committee’s business with much less attention to these conditions and more to the various EU chapters that were now on the negotiating table.8 Once negotiations were in train in these countries, then political conditionality became focussed around the annual regular reports of the Commission which could indeed produce a reactive debate on the lines of the specific issues where CEE states were seen as being guilty of non-fulfilment. Second, political elites in CEE proved exceptionally open in their basic attitudes to advice from Western European organisations and governments on political matters. There was a sense that, somewhat overwhelmed by the extent and speed of systemic change, they were only too willing to draw on the experience of tested European parliamentary government for mechanisms and techniques as well as institutional models. There was a somewhat naïve expectation earlier that these would, in being transferred to postCommunist soil, be automatically legitimate for an enormous political and institutional gap remained to be filled by the sudden collapse of Communist systems; but at least such political transfers had international approval. This habit of looking to the West developed as from 1990 with the rapid move to the first free elections, requiring instant advice in both electoral and parliamentary methods; and it became thereafter a distinct tendency, being extended to government management as well as, notably, economic reform approaches. For the first half of the 1990s, at least, this openness of CEE elites was dictated by need and marked by emulation.


Increasingly during the later 1990s, this habit of seeking institutional transfer, now well established, became harnessed to the business of conditionality on the part of those states seeking admission to the EU. Even the style of Eurocratic terminology was adopted often wholesale in political agenda-setting in these countries.9 In other words, the EU had far less of a problem in influencing such accession states than it did with its own member states when pushing for institutional reform where invariably issues linked to national sovereignty and national interests more easily surfaced. Moreover, diplomatic means were used informally to support the EU’s conditionality policy notably through regular contacts – often with an element of assistance – between accession governments and EU member state embassies as well as EU delegations. The post-Communist states were simply in a different category here from their future partners within the EU. Third, European policy matters – including the business of conditionalities, whether economic or political – were largely the preserve of small groups of policy-makers or policy specialists in CEE, meaning – apart from the relevant ministers – officials in foreign ministries and European integration departments of other ministries as well as members of parliamentary committees on Europe and on foreign relations. Discussion of the EU’s democratic conditionality did take place in accession states on a regular basis, but usually within parliamentary European committees. Questions relating to democratic conditionality became therefore ‘captured’ by a small number of institutions and these tended to be led by personnel already well committed to accession. Accordingly, EU affairs became largely managed and dominated by governments and parliamentary specialists; and this tendency only increased once negotiations commenced and these affairs shifted onto a distinctly more micro-administrative plane. EU accession therefore reinforced executive control within the institutional structures of CEE states seeking membership and this gave governments added political weight. That undoubtedly strengthened in turn executive control and dominance over, for example, parliamentary accountability in these new democracies. EU enlargement could be seen as having some systemic consequences in the sense of exaggerating institutional development. The close relationship between European policy aimed exclusively at accession and meeting democratic conditionality requirements therefore tended to dissuade policy-makers in CEE from considering – independently, as it were – the systemic effects for democratic consolidation in their countries. Although they invariably took advice from policy institutes and to some lesser extent from academic circles, government leaders gave no special priority to considering such effects above all because of the immediate responsibilities and burdens they faced with the accession business. One should not forget that in the everyday perspective accession did not seem inevitable or a foregone conclusion; and this created a reluctance to disturb progress with conditionality problems. This is why any doubts cast on the


EU’s sincerity over opening up to membership from the east – even if this amounted in the end to little more than media speculation – could readily cause nervousness in CEE capitals. All the heroic efforts made by these countries were on the understanding that Brussels would keep faith and grant the end purpose of all this activity. The fact that a final answer could not be given until the end of the process (at the Copenhagen summit, December 2002) left an area of uncertainty despite declaratory encouragement along the way from various EU member state leaders and figures from Brussels like Commissioner Verheugen. Key figures in the European policy of accession states emphasised in the light of their own experience how important progress and prospects were in driving forward compliance with European legislation, sometimes involving certain sectoral interests being overriden, but also with meeting the continuing demands of conditionality. In answer to the question about the importance of European integration for democratisation, the vice-chairman of the European Committee in the Bulgarian National Assembly argued that the dynamic of EU accession was indeed crucial for securing democratic consolidation. He concluded by pointing out that any stalling in this process – the nightmare scenario, as it were – would have damaging consequences in this respect: I think it’s vital. The prospect of membership for a country like Bulgaria, and it’s the same for all CEE countries but especially for a country like Bulgaria, the prospect of membership has been vital in making sure that democracy is stable. It has provided not just a road map for development, but it is the philosophical framework, the promise of development; and that has been clearly linked into the policies of government. And you can trace it because of accession – because of the political criteria, for example – that provided the support, the right environment in society to address a lot of issues relating to the Roma … because of the accession prospect. So that prospect has clearly supported democratisation. And, you can see it not just within government policy, but also within civil society – the opening up of various EU exchange programmes or funding programmes, strengthening the links between non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and state institutions … [If accession were stalled] that would create a lot of problems, that would create discontent, it can create problems for society. Inevitably, accession demands a lot of efforts, it demands that people go through some difficulties. Having said that, you need to have the prospect there to make sure that all the efforts that have been undertaken are clearly going to lead to the end.10 In turning therefore to examining the enlargement dynamic, one has to focus on two successive and somewhat different scenarios for democratic conditionality: the period leading up to the invitation to negotiate; and, the


subsequent period of actual negotiations for EU membership. In the first case, the EU’s political conditions are in the forefront and therefore the pressure can become intense to fulfil these to secure an invitation to negotiate. With those countries that moved fairly smoothly into the second stage – namely, the Luxembourg group of CEE states that started their negotiations in early 1998 – the shift from the one period to the other only confirmed their democratisation paths. Following the Commission’s official opinions on applicants ( July 1997), on which basis the Luxemburg group were selected, these so far successful countries were seen as presenting – in the Commission’s wording – ‘the characteristics of a democracy, with stable institutions guaranteeing the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities’, as well as possessing ‘a functioning market economy’. In other words, the start of negotiations had no dramatic effect but rather a confidence-boosting influence on democratisation in countries like Hungary, Poland and the Czech Republic. But what about those countries that failed to be invited in the first round? The selection of one Baltic state in 1997 for negotiations was a highpolitical decision by the EU which wanted to convey the message that it was not afraid of expanding into ex-Soviet territory. This was contested within the EU, especially by Germany, which was concerned about relations with Russia, but nevertheless the decision was carried and Scandinavian states such as Finland were influential in the option for Estonia. Estonia was seen as ahead of Lithuania and Latvia in being a functioning market economy and being able to cope with competitive pressures; and was more adept than the other two Baltic states in diplomatic lobbying beforehand. In other words, Estonia was not superior to its neighbours in its progress towards democratisation, for all three were urged to make more effort to integrate minorities especially Russian speakers. Nevertheless, the avis of 1997 and the Luxembourg decision had a shock effect on the other two Baltic states which proved to be positive in stimulating both Latvia and Lithuania to improve their accession acts. In Latvia, for instance, a decision was taken within weeks of the avis to produce an action plan and to improve the structures of European policy such as increasing the role and greatly enlarging the staff of the European Integration Bureau responsible for coordinating government efforts over accession and overseeing the harmonisation of legislation.11 In both Latvia and Lithuania political debates on accession intensified as a result of their exclusion from the first group of negotiating countries. To some degree the Commission was blamed for its decision and its methodology but with some criticism rebounding on the government especially in Latvia leading to the replacement of the minister for European affairs.12 But these fairly strong reactions, although expressing disappointment, did not in any serious way affect the state of democracy in these two countries. In fact, the shock effect proved positive for their management of accession, as came to be seen once they started negotiating from early 2000.


With the two Balkan countries of Romania and Bulgaria the reaction to their exclusion in 1997 was more severe with stronger repercussions on their somewhat unstable politics at the time. These two countries were commonly regarded as the least prepared of the CEECs for accession, being in the eyes of Brussels neither democracies with stable institutions nor functioning market economies. Yet, this did not dampen their expectations which were linked to international recognition factors and therefore by extension to national pride or, especially in Romania’s case, a feeling of national inferiority. In both countries the judgement of the avis came as a major jolt to their European policies. The reaction in Bucharest was a feeling of being shut out with some bitterness felt towards the Commission’s ‘overcritical’ officials and its methodology for selecting candidates. The judgement was particularly painful for the new reformist Ciorbea Government which, following its election in late 1996, had not yet effected much change. Although some of those in policy circles understood the reasoning – which essentially blamed the previous governments for their lack of reform – the wider political arena, including public opinion, did not do so insofar as it was engaged with such matters. In this way, there developed a view that Brussels was guilty of unfair criticism towards the current government. And the feeling of discrimination against Romania was enhanced by a parallel failure to be invited to join NATO. Unfortunately, while the failure to be invited by the EU had a ‘wakening effect’ on the government, the shock did not serve to overcome its internal divisions among the coalition partners.13 As a result, unlike in the Baltic countries, there was no marked improvement in Romania’s accession effort. By extension that raised some doubts about the prospects of Romanian democracy insofar as this depended significantly on external support and encouragement and in particular stimulus from prospective EU accession. Furthermore, there was a noticeable tendency during the second half of the 1990s for a relapse in moving beyond the nationalist agenda in domestic politics whenever there was lack of progress in foreign policy goals and especially EU accession.14 In Bulgaria, which has often been bracketed with Romania, reactions were similarly those of disappointment combined with blaming the previous government – in this case with much justification given the financial chaos into which Videnov had brought the country (for which reason some European policy-makers in Sofia were not totally surprised by their country’s exclusion from the list of candidate states). Shock combined with a concern about international isolation. However, there were also some more realistic reactions than in Romania with a feeling that this represented ‘a clear sign that something went wrong in the country and [there was a need] to design a programme to meet both political and economic criteria’ (a former Bulgarian ambassador to the EU). In fact, Bulgaria’s accession effort speeded up as a result during 1998/99 when relevant institutions were strengthened and


parliament made special efforts to pass many laws for adopting the acquis communautaire (a former Bulgarian foreign minister).15 In both countries, therefore, exclusion from the first group of candidates occurred at a time of domestic weakness following alternation in power with promise attached to reformist governments (as recognised in the avis on both countries). There was a potential danger at this time – more evident in Romania than in Bulgaria – that the dynamic of enlargement could unwind with worrying effects on domestic politics and therefore on progress towards democratic consolidation. However, there was not at this stage much debate or even politicisation of the accession question and certainly not over its implications including those of conditionality. The shock effect of the 1997 judgement was felt most painfully in political elite circles while public opinion in favour of EU membership remained particularly high in both countries. All this had a neutralising effect on possible political and certainly deeper repercussions from the exclusion. Moreover, it took two years before an invitation came to negotiate and this further deadline had the effect of remobilising government efforts to some extent, especially in Bulgaria. Further progress reports were issued by the Commission in 1998 and 1999, which in Romania’s case documented the continuing lack of preparedness over both political and economic conditions. It was, therefore, especially lucky for Romania that the decision to invite to negotiate made in late 1999 was on grounds of high politics relating to the Kosovo War. During that war both Bulgaria and Romania made strategic efforts to support NATO in an effort to improve their EU chances, providing thus one important example of Euro-Atlantic linkage. According to the then chairman of the Foreign Policy Committee in the Bulgarian National Assembly, there was conscious linkage thinking – ‘positively, categorically and definitely yes’, with Prime Minister Kostov realising very clearly that this represented a turning point and opportunity for the government.16 As in Bulgaria, public hostility to the NATO campaign was also ignored by the Romanian government for the sake of this strategic opening over EU accession. There was also some complementary linkage thinking among West European leaders with strong pressures from the USA, concerned immediately about maintaining a united anti-Milosevic front and in the long term about stability in the Balkans. The breakthrough came with Prime Minister Blair’s speech to both Balkan parliaments supporting the EU candidatures of Bulgaria and Romania. In Romania’s case, the response to his speech was euphoric as well as one of relief; and it tended to influence positively attitudes in other EU capitals.17 Thus, while this initiative was made with immediate Balkan security matters in mind, it served indirectly to give a lift to democratic prospects in Bulgaria and Romania for, by their entering negotiations, these were automatically enhanced by the greater promise of eventual success.


Finally, Slovakia differs from these various national cases in looking at the pre-negotiations period. The Meeiar Government stood out as an example of intransigence over the political conditions which, despite official claims of Bratislava’s good intentions towards Brussels, were progressively breached on several counts. International opinion was offended by domestic developments like the hostile treatment of the opposition parties and press as well as hostility towards the Hungarian minority and the government’s persistent conflict with the president who became a doughty advocate of democratic procedures. Slovakia was excluded from the Luxembourg group on these political grounds – the one clear case of this – but this rejection produced no genuine rethinking on the part of the government. In fact, it stiffened resistance to EU pressure inside the cabinet for the various de´marches issued against Bratislava produced a ‘purely negative reaction’ in cabinet discussions.18 Nationalist responses largely accounted for this. Slovakia at this time thus illustrates the limitations on EU leverage due to Meeiar’s prioritisation of domestic concerns over EU affairs but also a mentality – revealed by Meeiar’s own defensiveness in European diplomatic circles – that basically failed to understand EU affairs.19 The European Parliament rapporteur on Slovakia described this mentality as similar to that of the Communist period: ‘they were in a mindset that was for me incomprehensible; it reminded me of discussions with SED people before 1989’, in a reference to the then ruling party in East Germany.20 The Slovak case was significant from the point of view of democratisation in that country. The official EU (and American) protests against Meeiar’s abuses of power not only gave this matter an international visibility but also lent credibility and encouragement to the effort of the opposition parties which, together with international NGO support aimed at increasing electoral participation, contributed towards the defeat of Meeiar in the parliamentary election of September 1998. Moving on to the second period of actual negotiations for EU membership, some differences may be noted with respect to political conditionality. First, this conditionality is less dramatically related to accession prospects now that the cherished invitation to negotiate has arrived. Accession governments accordingly have less reason to feel a nervous sense of urgency that the state of their democracies – or, certain salient features of them – could check their progress towards membership. Infractions of the political conditions would no longer lead to an immediate decision but rather a protracted procedure within the EU involving different institutions over whether to break off negotiations – a procedure that has never in fact been utilised.21 Second, EU pressure nevertheless does not relent on this conditionality, the difference being that it becomes more strictly routinised around the Commission’s annual regular reports on each country. This creates a certain procedural constraint for compiling the reports takes invariably a half year during which the accession governments are put under pressure to meet requirements under all three conditions in time for the final versions of the


reports. Then, depending on the actual criticisms made, governments are put on the defensive to improve matters – clearly in time for the subsequent reports, for a failure to act in time could then raise doubts about accession. This was notably the case with the Czech Republic’s slowness over judicial reform as highlighted in the 1999 report but also on several occasions with Romania concerning the sensitive issue of institutionalised children. Also, in May 2001, for instance, the draft report of the EP on Romania listed a whole set of failures to act on this particular issue and ended with a semi-veiled threat that further inaction could threaten Romania’s negotiations.22 Third, and finally, starting negotiations represents a major shift in the balance between Europeanisation and democratisation – to put it somewhat grandly. This comes from the fact that accession government efforts are now overwhelmingly focussed on the content of European legislation parcelled out between the thirty negotiation chapters. One may say that high-political perspectives as evident at times in the first period become subordinated now to micro-political and administrative concerns, as typified by the remark of one newspaper report that ‘for months the delegations of the applicant countries have exchanged e-mails each day with officials in the European Commission, on subjects ranging from tobacco taxes to suckler cow premiums’.23 This does not have to mean that democratisation concerns become pushed aside – as shown above – but rather that Europeanisation matters become the dominant factor in everyday government policy-making on the EU. This is significant insofar as tensions arise between these two thematic concerns, as will be shown in the next two sections of this chapter. Given this change in the scenario for conditionality, it is useful to highlight those variables that have a particular bearing on the political dimension of accession without engaging in special discussion of the actual negotiations. These concern policy continuity and alternation in power; government commitment to both democracy and European integration and how symbolic issues relating to national interest and identity are handled; the importance attributed to success in negotiations on the part of key government leaders in this second period; and, how domestic difficulties especially internal government differences interact with accession prospects. Policy continuity is crucial both in convincing Brussels of an applicant country’s good intentions but also in terms of the domestic dynamic that helps to drive accession forward. As it was, the CEE applicants were virtually all known for their strong cross-party consensus on integration so that continuity of approach was virtually assured. There was no case comparable to that of Malta where the opposition Labour Party threatened to halt negotiations being as it was still firmly against joining the EU. Soft Eurosceptics there were such as Klaus’s Civic Democratic Party in the Czech Republic – which remained out of power during the negotiations – and Orbán’s Fidesz in Hungary but that party in fact performed more than adequately over the negotiations during its period of office in 1998–2002.


In any case, these Eurosceptic forces could hardly be accused of lacking democratic commitment even though they caused irritation in Brussels. Meeiar’s Government in Slovakia was, as noted above, the one obvious case of lacking convincing democratic credentials; but that was voted out of power before negotiations started. Indeed, that was clearly a precondition for the invitation to negotiate that eventually came Bratislava’s way at the end of 1999. This crucial change in Slovakia in 1998 of course draws attention to the question of alternation in power. EU reactions to the outcome of the 1998 election in Slovakia hailed this as an important step towards securing democracy as well as opening up better chances for inclusion in the next round of candidate states.24 This indeed it was for it confirmed the way for eventual democratic consolidation as well as, incidentally, showing that pluralist politics could work through the very act of alternation. In some other cases, however, alternation has for a time caused unease. This was notably the case with Romania following the election of 2000 which brought back to power the Social Democrats, who before 1996 had shown reluctance to implement economic reform and were, with Ion Iliescu as their chief figure, regarded with suspicion in European circles as not fully committed to the democratic game. Even though the new Prime Minister Adrian Nastase represented the reformist wing of his party, the EU remained cautious for a while wanting to see proof of the government’s policy promises over political reforms like judicial independence and minority rights.25 In fact, the EU had been momentarily more scared by the impressive showing of the nationalist politician Corneliu Vadim Tudor in the Romanian presidential elections of late 2000. His involvement with the Ceaubescu regime and his habit of making outrageous statements were viewed as offensive to democratic standards. But the fact that he was not actually elected meant that Romania’s negotiations which started early that year were not affected. As it turned out, the Nastase Government proved far more effective than its centre-Right reformist predecessors in managing accession because it lacked their internal differences. One may also add broadly speaking that once negotiations have actually started, a country’s state system becomes locked into a dynamic and this in turn acts as a constraint on new parties in office as well as affecting the balance of domestic political debate. Commitment on the part of key government leaders during this second period both to accession and with it democratic consolidation is clearly of some relevance to the priority given to negotiations with the EU. Here, symbolic issues may reveal basic attitudes towards accession such as whether elites are more inclined towards integrationist or nationalist arguments – which are invariably associated with pro- or anti-democracy sentiments. At the same time, they are also engaged in the micro-business of these negotiations when in effect Brussels starts intervening both in wide areas of policy – which could conceivably provoke nationalist sentiments – but also through its persistent pressure on candidate states to meet the economic and political


conditions. That is, pro-European rhetoric might well gild the public statements of national leaders but more significant is how this is tested against the tough reality of actual accession. Issues like constitutional powers including the transfer of national sovereignty acquire more meaning once accession proceeds and the advent of membership appears visible. In the case of CEE, the later stages of negotiations coincided with the European Convention in Brussels during 2002–03; hence, such issues moved more to the fore for these countries which sent representatives there. Some CEECs like Poland had formally recognised the decrease in national sovereignty that came with full integration through a constitutional provision for this, like the postwar constitutions in Italy and the Federal Republic of Germany. In Poland’s case, this read: ‘The Republic of Poland may, by virtue of international agreements, in relation to certain matters delegate to an international organisation or international institution the competence of organs of state authority’ (1997 Constitution, article 90). In practice, however, Poland showed as the largest accession country some national assertiveness in negotiations though at times this was influenced by Eurosceptical pressure from back home. In some other countries, the transfer of national sovereignty was a more sensitive issue, namely in those countries which had newly acquired their independent status such as the Baltic states. For them, terms like ‘Union’ and ‘Federation’ had an unhappy association with the USSR experience, although elites usually understood the distinction between the Soviet past and the European present in this respect – at least, much more than their publics. In none of these different cases, however, did reservations about losing national sovereignty seriously rebound on the prospects for democracy. In Latvia, for example, which had the largest single national minority among the CEE accession states (with a Russian minority of 32 per cent of the population), European pressure for integrating this minority through citizenship – coming as much from the OSCE as from the EU – could have acerbated nationalist resentment given Latvian feelings towards the former ruling power and historical memories of suppression going back to the traumatic Soviet occupation of 1940–41. But the careful handling of this issue by Latvian political elites, their commitment to European integration and respect for international institutions as well as their positive response to European pressure over introducing new citizenship legislation prevented that from happening.26 The result was of undoubted benefit to that country’s democratic consolidation. The fear of international isolation as an ultimate risk if negotiations should fail was certainly present though not so often expressed. It was loosely linked with the idea of national identity becoming somewhat redefined in European terms. This factor could also apply to a new state like Slovakia particularly as recent international exclusion had created a national sense of determination to compensate for the Meeiar years and catch up in


the accession process – and, with it, a return to unambiguous democratisation. For Slovak ruling elites from 1998 this very success helped to encourage a new national self-confidence that came with international recognition and the real prospect of Euro-Atlantic integration.27 And this was in a country that had shown since independence in 1993 a close interlinkage between domestic politics and external policy orientation. The importance attributed to success in the membership negotiations, especially on the part of government leaders, contributed undoubtedly to the enlargement dynamic in driving forward the process especially at times of domestic difficulties. This is evident over procedural targets like accession deadlines as well as diplomatic lobbying alongside the negotiations. All candidate countries announced and quite regularly repeated their own deadlines for EU entry. These easily raised the onus placed on success but also somewhat sharpened the competition between different CEECs with their parallel negotiations. The reasons for an accession deadline, as given by one deputy chief negotiator (for Romania), were several: technical, to keep control over the adoption of the acquis communautaire and as a reference point when requesting transition periods; diplomatic, to prevent accession from being pushed back in time; and, bureaucratic, to create a persistent pressure on the national administration to ‘do its homework well’.28 Some in government circles then were prepared to admit that in Romania’s case the choice of 2007 was possibly unrealistic and that the date had not been chosen with much analysis of the different factors behind it. But, once stuck with a date, an accession country felt compelled to do its utmost to keep to the deadline even though meeting that depended as much on the EU’s own timetable. The competitive factor of course reappeared at a late stage over the successive referenda on EU membership in CEE states during 2003, when in several cases the argument was made by the pro-entry forces that since other post-Communist states had pronounced in favour it would result in international isolation if their own public rejected this historic opportunity. Diplomatic lobbying took several forms. It was of course the formal responsibility of the missions to the EU based in Brussels to facilitate accession and act as a routine channel between the EU institutions and their national governments. But a further, less visible, method was to exploit the importance of bilateral links in the working of the EU. For accession states, cultivating such links usually involved settling any outstanding bilateral problems with certain member states and if possible seeking a sponsor among the – preferably more influential – ones. Bilateral problems proved manageable in most cases but occasionally there were severe disputes notably between the Czech Republic and Germany and Austria over the Benes Decrees, concerning the immediate postwar treatment of nationals from those two countries, and with Austria over the Temelin nuclear reactor not far from the common border. Sponsors were cultivated in many cases, such as Germany in favour of Poland, Finland for Estonia, Denmark for


Lithuania and Sweden for Latvia as well as France for Romania (although the French connection – seen as historically and culturally significant in elite circles in Bucharest – proved less influential in the end than UK support of that country’s candidacy following the Kosovo War). Berlin’s support of Poland was especially helpful in the final stage of negotiations when it looked for a while as if that country might just be left out of the first enlargement to the East. These special bilateral relations were also influential in other ways such as through regular and fairly intensive exchanges among parliamentarians but also for developing closer economic links. Such exchanges invariably contributed towards political learning by accession countries and a growing affinity and socialisation between elites on both sides. In Latvia’s case, parliamentary contacts were particularly close with Denmark as well as Sweden and revolved around studying how to deal with EU issues as well as parliamentary administration; and these formed part of a general tendency of developing extensive contacts across the Baltic region.29 Close links also developed inevitably between national parliaments in CEE and the EP through the twiceyearly JPCs that met right up to accession. While their official purpose under the Europe Agreements was to institutionalise ‘political dialogue’, they also acted as a forum for the learning and practice of democratic procedures. This enlargement dynamic therefore had a push/pull effect on the political dimension in a number of ways. However, there were also phases in which this dynamic was hindered by domestic political difficulties. This was most evident when the standing of governments reached its low in the cycle of parliamentary periods affecting the ability or willingness of governments to accept the ‘medicine’ of accession. That was notably true of the Miller Government in Poland which both before the Copenhagen summit of 2002 but also in the months before the 2003 referendum found itself on the defensive in the face of voluble Eurosceptic forces but also inhibited by internal divisions leading to the collapse of the SLD coalition with the Peasant Party (PSL). But in both cases the outcome proved positive for accession because of sustained efforts by the government. Previous Polish governments had also faced internal tensions over accession including reservations towards European integration or certain of its aspects, including the preceding centre-Right coalitions. Polish governments faced severe difficulties at times partly owing to conflict with the European Commission on a number of issues but also especially because EU accession was more politicised there domestically than in other CEECs. As a whole, cross-party consensus tended to hold and so did the general popularity of the EU. This made life easier for most governments, including for example the first Dzurinda Government in Slovakia (1998–2002) which was ideologically diverse – and at times very fractious over domestic issues, including economic reform – but united on EU accession. This latter factor helped to keep that government on track right up to the end of its


parliamentary term contrary to most expectations. However, in summer 2001 a serious coalition crisis erupted over decentralisation required for administering EU structural funds. The Hungarian party, the SMK, threatened to leave the cabinet because two other government parties sided with the opposition to pass a formula for regional government structures unfavourable to Hungarian minority interests. This crisis persisted through July and most of August and looked like bringing the government down. That would have called Slovakia’s accession prospects into question because of the perceived threat from Meeiar, the main opposition leader, whose name in Brussels was tantamount to political death for these prospects. Then, in late August a series of blunt warnings from EU and American leaders about the effects of the government’s collapse on that country’s EU and NATO chances tipped the balance of argument inside the SMK in favour of staying in the government. It was made clear that long-term national interests relating to both EuroAtlantic integration and democracy should not be sacrificed for the sake of short-term political discord. There followed an agreement on a cooling-off period of one month, which allowed Dzurinda – skilled at mediation – to work out a deal to satisfy SMK demands and feelings.30 In conclusion, there proved to be a fairly close interconnection in practice between the democratic imperative and accession prospects in both successive periods before and during membership negotiations with the EU. It seems clear that the EU’s influence over post-Communist democratisation through its pressure and leverage over the political conditions was to a very large degree a dependent factor in relation to accession prospects. This is not to say that the democratic credentials of political, and especially governmental, elites in these countries were in doubt or exclusively instrumental. What it does show is that their willingness to act to implement specified democratic conditions was much greater within a relatively short time span than would normally have been the case and above all evident when problems over these conditions looked like affecting the success of negotiations. In other words, while the second period of actual negotiations saw a shift in the balance of the relationship between democratisation and Europeanisation, such was the nature of that close relationship that this did not lead to any serious downplaying of the democratic imperative even though it was now less decisive in political decisions driving along accession. One should furthermore add that the very habit of managing these difficult negotiations provided those elites involved from CEE with first-hand experience in the art of pluralist politics at the supranational level.

4.3 EU accession, institutional adjustment and reform of the state The two parallel processes of Europeanisation and democratisation are closely related in a number of ways on institutional matters. Reform of the


state, as brought about by accession, has implications for democratisation both in terms of dismantling remaining features of the predecessor regime and strengthening its own democratic nature. But also the proclaimed aim of introducing greater efficiency in its operation may conceivably affect the credibility of institutions in new democracies. We have to consider at the same time how this institutional adjustment under EU pressure related to post-Communist institutional design, remembering that the new democracies in CEE had already moved well down the path of formal regime change before the EU’s conditionality started to take effect. The story is therefore one of European effects on the institutionalisation of new democracies whereby political institutions become established and new democracies become embedded in their institutional frameworks or what Huntington calls ‘the process by which organisations and procedures acquire value and stability’.31 In other words, this process is a major component of democratic consolidation. The role of the state – now highlighted by Europeanisation through accession – as distinct from that of regime has been underplayed in democratisation studies due to the predominant concern with elite behaviour and political choice.32 But fresh interest has developed along with the ‘new institutionalism’ literature which argues that ‘political democracy depends not only on economic and social conditions but also on the design of political institutions’.33 There is the added problem of the legacy from the state’s role in non-democratic systems, especially totalitarian ones, where the state and regime are invariably merged through one-party control. Accordingly, mistrust towards the state may remain at the public level well into the new democratic period; and this legacy provides one challenge for formal regime change in democratisation.34 The role of the state has in post-Communist democratisation been especially salient because regime change has in many instances been combined with state-building, such as in Slovakia, the Baltic States and those new states which were formerly part of Yugoslavia (not to mention all former republics in the USSR). State-building has its own demands which are creating and establishing new state structures and, sometimes more controversially, promoting nation-building which has often raised problems with respect to ethnic minorities. In these cases, where the transformation is more extensive, more complicated and invariably more time-consuming, the EU has had more opportunity for a formative influence than in other cases where the state machine is already established. When referring to Europeanisation effects on governance, one may speak of structural or institutional convergence which occurs when institutions interact frequently within the same environment – namely, among EU member states – or, as here, when conditionality takes over and the EU exerts pressure at the institutional level on prospective member states during accession.35 It is obvious in the latter instance that push/pull dynamics are


present as part of the ongoing enlargement process, although clearly with institutional adjustment there may be problems with weak or ineffective states or where organisational cultures are not predisposed towards such change. One may regard such problems as illustrating the kind of mediating or filtering factors identified in theory on transnational relations. So far as the EU is concerned, there are two forms of institutional adjustment involved during accession. First, there is the management of the negotiations themselves whereby the state machine has to focus in a rather far-reaching way on inter-ministerial coordination – given the wide scope of the acquis communautaire – and where a lead ministry is usually necessary. This may not as such entail reform of the state, although some new institutions may have to be formed, but rather its efficient operation for the sake of speed and success in negotiations. Second, there is what is called the EU’s third condition, namely, the ‘ability to take on the obligations of membership including adherence to the aims of political, economic and monetary union’, as defined at Copenhagen in 1993. This is closer to reform of the state and was explained as follows in the 1999 Regular Reports of the European Commission on candidate countries: The adoption of the acquis involves a process of transposition, implementation and enforcement. It needs to be set in a strategic context with realistic timetables established in relation to administrative and budgetary resources. The importance not only of incorporating Community legislation into national legislation, but as well of ensuring its effective application through appropriate administrative and judicial structures … is a central feature of the accession negotiations. It is a key aspect of preparation for membership and an essential pre-condition for creating mutual trust indispensable for future membership. A well developed civil service and judiciary is central to the candidate countries being able to assume the obligations of membership and to make effective use of EU structural funding. In order to effectively implement and enforce the acquis, existing institutions need to be strengthened and new institutions created. The appropriate human and financial resources need to be made available. Training and career development programmes are key features of this process.36 Thus, the third Copenhagen condition was policy-related and increasingly placed an importance on administrative capacity with a view to the future new member states’ ability to implement European legislation, which already was problematic among current member states in some areas of policy, such as in the environmental area. The motive was, hence, one of how to make the enlarged EU function or at least prevent present implementation problems from worsening. It was not primarily aimed at democratisation’s cause, although one can see links with this in terms of system performance


and its wider impacts. Furthermore, one other requirement of Brussels was introducing regional administration for the purpose of managing the structural funds; and this had a relevance for democratisation with the de-concentration of power after Communist rule. These two forms of institutional adjustment will be discussed in turn with comparative references to illustrate cross-national variation and the reasons for this, including obstacles to reform and factors which limited Europeanisation’s impact. At the same time, attention will be given to political and administrative learning and what this reveals about elite behaviour in these new democracies. Also, did this fairly intense and rather hasty process of state adaptation to accession needs and prospective membership create any disharmony in the operation of state structures and cause any serious governmental overload at a time when these new democracies in CEE, being as yet unconsolidated, were still notionally fragile? Regarding the management of negotiations for EU membership – which began with two sets of countries in 1998 and 2000 and were completed by the end of 2002 – the key operating principle was inter-ministerial coordination. This was evident in the composition of the negotiating teams (called delegations) and the missions of the CEECs in Brussels; but it was particularly crucial back in the national capitals for making these negotiations effective. This was because the subject of negotiations, the acquis communautaire, affected virtually every policy area and required effective and often speedy coordination between all the ministries responsible (when their ‘chapters’ were on the negotiating table) and the lead ministry. This presented a unique challenge to post-Communist administrations which had not been used to such a practice, although they were helped by adopting West European models of coordination such as the French cabinet structure at prime-ministerial and ministerial levels.37 In line with this, different ministries in CEE capitals tended to form European integration departments if they did not already exist or if they did these were strengthened to cope with the mounting business of accession. At the same time, a lead ministry or equivalent body was necessary for concentrating this effort and giving it drive. In CEE, there were two principal models: either it was the Ministry of Foreign Affairs as in most cases (such as in the Czech Republic, Hungary and Estonia), though sometimes also involving the prime-ministerial Government Office (such as in Slovakia, where the MFA coordinated the negotiations and the Government Office coordinated the domestic front); or, a special structure was created such as a Chief Negotiator’s Office subordinate to the Prime Minister’s office (such as in Poland and Slovenia) or exceptionally, as in Romania, a separate Ministry of European Integration was formed.38 In the latter event, the MFA in Bucharest remained responsible for normal EU business outside the negotiations. In any case, inter-ministerial committees were necessary to manage this monumental effort which at times placed an immense strain on the


government machine, especially when EU negotiations and their tight deadlines were given a priority in the everyday context over other government affairs. Furthermore, additional agencies were often created to facilitate aspects of the accession business, such as the European Institute of Romania in Bucharest which coordinated the translation of the acquis communautaire and provided impact studies on policy harmonisation.39 In Latvia, the European Integration Bureau established as far back as 1994 developed into a central coordinating unit to facilitate the harmonisation of legislation with the EU by giving special advice to the different ministries and monitoring their progress. Originally part of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, it was later placed under the direct authority of the prime minister.40 In short, accession produced an articulation of government structures. If called ‘Europeanisation’, this involved more often than not an elaboration on the basis of pre-existing structures rather than any radical rethinking of state management. In new states, however, the organisation of negotiations could make more of a difference. There the bureaucratic structures were still quite inchoate so that accession had the effect of hastening their development. In Slovakia, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had to start virtually anew with independence in 1993 and was for a time located in different small buildings around Bratislava including in a former dormitory. It was only in 1998 that it moved to one renovated building which was more central. The ministry had a far more difficult task than its Czech equivalent in Prague in developing because, when Czechoslovakia was divided, Slovakia inherited few experienced diplomats and so had to build up its diplomatic corps from scratch. It was for a time inhibited in acquiring political and bureaucratic weight because of frequent changes of foreign ministers under Meeiar.41 But from the change of power in 1998 Eduard Kukan provided continuity and saw through the whole negotiations with the EU. This process undoubtedly added to its strength as well as requiring it to develop considerably its policy expertise. This Euro-focussed institutionalisation was replicated at the parliamentary level by the formation of committees of European integration which, alongside the old foreign relations committees, were responsible for monitoring the parliamentary application of European legislation as well as supervising the expenditure of European funds.42 In Slovakia, such a committee was formed in 1997 although it did not become really active until after the 1998 election. In the Czech Republic, the European Integration Committee was set up in the Chamber of Deputies in 1998 – the year negotiations began with the EU – to cover all aspects of the enlargement process. Over time, its members – who as in other CEECs often overlapped with those of the Foreign Relations Committee – developed appreciable expertise in EU affairs and their work involved much travel to Brussels and different EU states. The sources of routine information for the Committee were usually the Czech


mission in Brussels, the EU delegation in Prague, various NGOs and university centres specialising in European affairs as well as the German political foundations.43 In Bulgaria, on the other hand, the European Affairs Committee was not formed until January 2000, just a few weeks before negotiations began with Brussels. Its functions were to oversee negotiations, to follow legislative harmonisation and to provide public information.44 Thus, the onset of negotiations promoted this parliamentary specialisation through committee work. If such a European committee existed before, then its work increased tremendously with negotiations. It is important to remember that EU affairs were no ordinary policy sector but very multidimensional in their policy concerns. The vast amount of micro-legislation required developing a great deal of technical competence and specialism in EU affairs among governing and parliamentary elites for CEECs to be effective in their negotiations with Brussels. During elite interviews conducted by the author during this very period from 1998 to 2003 the lack of sufficient expertise, meaning often the number of people involved rather than the quality of those already with EU expertise, was a regular refrain. This was, however, indicative of a feeling of frustration sometimes at the sheer weight of EU affairs – reflecting, indeed, the unprecedented experience for public administrations previously unversed in such matters only a few years before (although the operation of the Europe Agreements from the mid-1990s had begun this long and arduous process of learning for CEE elites). In fact, there were regular training courses for officials engaged in work on accession.45 It followed too that continuity of personnel was an important factor in building and maintaining expertise.46 In some countries, there developed a practice of appointing new and especially young people to positions of responsibility in the new business of European affairs. The fact that they had not been employed under the Communist regime made them – it was regarded – more flexible in their working methods than older personnel.47 Implied here was that European integration was not a traditional policy activity and that it required particular skills including the ability to adapt. Clearly, language skills was one essential component here with a knowledge of English increasingly proving to be the favoured priority among CEE elites. There was evidence at this time during negotiations (from these elite interviews) of some thinking ahead to eventual EU membership when national bureaucracies would have to compete in the rough game of participation within European institutions. Government structures in CEE did with some cross-national variation show evidence of limited modernisation specifically in those units directly involved in the business of EU accession. These have become known as ‘islands of excellence’,48 implying of course that other parts of public administrations were not so advanced or rather forced perhaps reluctantly to adapt to a new and difficult exercise in public affairs. The reasons for this


improvement were several but the key one was the experience of regular and first-hand dealings with the EU together with the sheer pressure for effectiveness in handling negotiations. As a secretary of state for EU affairs in one Romanian ministry put it, people in integration departments in national ministries ‘work in a different style’ partly because as often being young they are familiar with using computers and the internet, are used to working in French or more often English, show flexibility and have to respond rapidly to Brussels’s schedules, so that in the case of a required response ‘Brussels may have it early in the morning.’49 One may add that a significant number of young people working on EU affairs in accession states have enjoyed some training at the EU level or benefited from that provided in their own countries under the PHARE Programme. According to one senior official involved in EU affairs in Bucharest such learning and the transnational socialisation and consultations that go with it have produced a mentality change that represents a modernising impact although in limited areas.50 In other words, the generational difference but also a different bureaucratic ethos set these cohorts of civil servants versed in EU matters apart from traditional bureaucrats. However, it was the unrelenting drive behind accession that really prevented the former from being constricted by the latter even though tensions certainly arose between them under the pressure of state business. In practice, some ministries were always more EUmodernised than others in CEE capitals depending on their own bureaucratic traditions as well as the extent of their actual involvement in negotiations. And, there were some cross-national differences too with Romania often identified as the weakest case in managing negotiations, so that any evidence of – albeit belated – change in that particular country is perhaps significant of wider trends in CEE. In short, therefore, EU accession has made some difference to governance in candidate countries in CEE through the experience of membership negotiations; but this was both limited and focussed. How much this change in bureaucratic culture – involving greater transparency and accountability such as through EU-linked monitoring of performance – could spread further through public administration in post-Communist countries depended obviously on the deeper effects coming from future membership as well as increased generational turnover. This leads us straight into considering the third Copenhagen condition of ‘the ability to take on the obligations of membership’ and its relevance for reform of the state. The third condition amounts in the eyes of Brussels to candidate countries becoming effective democracies – that is, unqualified democracies (thus satisfying the first Copenhagen condition) but where the primary concern is how well they function as presumptive member states. This requirement was increasingly an issue with the EU as evident in the ever more detailed attention to the transposition and implementation of the acquis communautaire in the Commission’s progress reports on candidate countries as from


2000. Often described as comprising 80,000 pages in its English version and some 10,000 European directives, it was the size of this European legislation together with the very magnitude of the forthcoming enlargement to the East, not to mention the unease felt by Brussels about post-Communist state capacity, that drove pressure over the third condition. The aim was to reduce this problem as far as possible in the new member states-to-be before they actually joined the EU. However, this demand for enhancing state capacity was not accompanied by any official model. In this sense, there was a serious limitation on this third condition being associated with reform of the state. This absence of a model was hardly surprising since the EU itself was not sufficiently developed as a political system to set an example. Nor could the various member countries provide any model seeing they themselves represented somewhat different state traditions and looked back to different administrative practices. Insofar as they projected their own national systems, they were thus unlikely to agree while the Commission would not choose to intervene on such a sensitive political matter. What happened though was a transplantation of ideas and procedures for strengthening administrative and judicial capacity and implementing the acquis communautaire through twinning arrangements whereby current member states lent their experts for specific projects. This both bypassed any notion of an ‘EU model’ and fitted with the pattern since 1989 where new post-Communist systems had looked to individual Western European countries for institutional models.51 Meanwhile, the CEECs had their own cross-national differences of state tradition which were becoming apparent again after Communism in the 1990s; and these did not necessarily fit easily with ‘European’ approaches to public administration. Instead of a model, the EU formally offered operative principles or European standards for modernising if not building the post-Communist democratic state. These involved transparency, accountability, professionalism and effectiveness, reflecting a concern in Brussels over post-Communist public administrations and distinguishing them from those in member states. The latter had not been monitored in this way and that included the Southern European entrants of the 1980s before accession, despite cases of notorious inefficiency notably in Greece. But this lack had no doubt contributed to the growing problem of implementation of European legislation among member states which, together with special doubts about state effectiveness in CEE, lay behind the third condition. At the start of the first wave negotiations in 1998 the Commission remained particularly critical of the state of public administrations in post-Communist states (with Hungary seen as more efficient than the others), warning that ‘this aspect of preparation for membership is crucial and an essential precondition for creating the mutual trust indispensable for future membership’.52 Four years later, however, the Commission was rather more positive about improvements in


this respect for in the report of 2002 it was concluded that ‘steady progress has also been made in building up the administrative and judicial structures required for implementing and enforcing the acquis and most countries are well advanced towards reaching an adequate administrative capacity in a considerable number of fields’.53 Was this too optimistic and what had actually happened in the four years in-between? There has been some hope among young and committed administrative reformers that the EU-driven ‘islands of excellence’ discussed above might actually work as ‘agents of change’ and create a dynamic for a broader transformation of administrative structures, with accession providing the momentum and coordinative procedures the means.54 Given the relative brevity of time allowed by accession, at best half a decade, some scepticism is allowed about turning around ineffective administrations – if not weak states – in any root-and-branch manner. Above all, one has to bear in mind here the extent of the problem and the legacies from the Communist period. In general, post-Communist public administrations in CEE were noted for their poor performance due to a culture of patronage, low professional competence, a weakly developed work ethic, a lack of civic responsibility, arrogance and corruption.55 The contrast this presented with European standards of governance was obvious; and it was clear that this amounted to a basic set of problems that were not going to be erased all that quickly. Some of these were historical. Countries from the former Habsburg empire were seen as having much more of a tradition of a public service than those that had experienced Ottoman patrimonial rule, although in all cases the Communist systems had induced a practice of party-political administration and clearly one that was closed to view and open to corrupt tendencies. But even in Hungary, invariably presented as the model pupil of Brussels, some defects of the former regime remained throughout the accession period as obstacles to administrative modernisation, including institutional fragmentation, the separation between policy-making and implementation as well as politicisation.56 As a whole, the emergence of a professional and de-politicised civil service has been slow in post-Communist states.57 In another former Habsburg area, Slovakia, difficulties in changing an administration that was simply not modern before administrative reform was initiated included a flawed system of control, sheer inefficiency due to poor organisation and petty battles over institutional turf, the lack of professional training as well as problems arising from the territorial division.58 Such regime legacy problems were particularly evident in former Soviet territory such as the Baltic states. In the first year of negotiations Latvia was strongly upbraided in the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP)’s human development report for a closed decisionmaking environment marked by seclusion and strong influence on the part of the ‘grey cardinals’, especially those representing economic interests, over policy decisions, thus providing a setting ripe for corruption. However,


even there some successful cases of decision making were noticeable including significantly all important decisions linked to the EU process.59 Notwithstanding these problems, the greatest reservations over the state of public administration in the candidate countries were directed towards the Balkan states. The two cases in question, Bulgaria and Romania, were not due to become members until 2007, allowing for some more time for improvement. Romania was even the object of censure in the European Parliament’s draft report of May 2001 – more than one year after negotiations started – for a public administration capacity that ‘is very limited and represents a major constraint in the accession preparation’ although ‘a small number of ministries are well managed and are staffed by qualified professionals’.60 The European Commission was usually well informed about these difficulties and efforts to overcome them or resistance to these. There were no serious illusions in Brussels about the extent of the problem. Hence, the real expectation behind the stringent pressure for reform expressed in the progress reports was that an accession country should have moved significantly in the right direction with evidence of real progress. This realism was matched by a pragmatic position on the question of bureaucratic appointments from the Communist period. The Commission adopted a light touch, recognising that candidate countries held responsibility on the matter, but it encouraged rather than demanded change.61 With Romania, a notorious case because of the extent of penetration of the state by the nepotistic Ceaubescu regime, the matter was raised well in advance of negotiations in 1999, seeing that this country unlike some others in CEE had no law on lustration. The EU had no official position on the matter although there was a sensitivity to prominent cases that could be controversial (and Romania has had several such cases) but as a whole Brussels was content if such officials performed adequately within the newly defined frameworks for reform.62 Any wholesale turnover in bureaucratic personnel was clearly impossible to achieve by the time these post-Communist countries reached accession negotiations; and, in any case, the Commission had many other concerns to monitor in them. Essentially, it was much more exercised by the incompetent behaviour of old-time bureaucrats – as shown by its stress on corruption in public places – than it was by their actual background. Notwithstanding the constraints deriving mainly from the past, the Commission applied continuous pressure for the adaptation of state administrations to the needs and requirements of accession. This intense pressure was put directly on national governments in CEE so that the necessary legislation and formal structures were instituted and then implemented. This placed an enormous burden on most post-Communist democracies which were nearly all small states and therefore had limited capacity and small civil services which, in the case of new states like the Baltic republics, Slovakia and Slovenia, were much less established. In Latvia and Lithuania,


for example, enlargement created immense pressures on their as yet poor state capacity which only multiplied excessive government overload that in turn slowed the pace of reform.63 This is not to mention other forms of state adaptation relating to NATO accession, such as in the organisation of security services as well as the military, but also the pressure coming from International Financial Institutions (IFIs) over such matters as fiscal discipline. In essence, the EU followed a carrot-and-stick approach since the pressures to adapt were combined with various support programmes. The basic motive was to inculcate the notion of a public service which involved changes in both procedures and mentalities as well as necessary structural adaptation. In the first instance, this meant passing civil service acts which began to be adopted from 1995 in a few countries like Estonia and Poland but mainly in the period of actual membership negotiations. There is furthermore evidence that EU pressure proved decisive in this respect given the lack of consensus or the reluctance over civil service reform in some countries.64 Whereas these acts provided the formal framework, much work remained to be done both in carrying this legislation into practice as well as bringing about behavioural changes to strengthen professionalism; but these deeper changes advanced less decisively than hoped. However, accession has also brought with it a significant growth in EUpromoted assistance and training possibilities such as through PHARE and the twinning arrangements instituted by the Commission in 1998. The PHARE Programme aimed to strengthen administrative structures through helping with reform strategies and training civil servants and offered various projects for institutional development and learning managerial techniques. Its support was not confined to executive institutions for parliaments in CEE could also apply for support in developing parliamentary expertise on EU affairs including the skill in dealing with European legislation.65 Political and administrative learning progressed in a rather more focussed and specialised way through the twinning procedure that involved secondment of civil servants from EU member states to accession countries according to projects designed by the Commission. It was sectorally based, that is secondments were made from a said ministry in say Copenhagen or London to the equivalent ministry in Riga or Bratislava. During the period 1998–2002, there were altogether 684 twinning projects financed by PHARE, with the greatest number being devoted to public finance (164), followed by justice and home affairs (144), agriculture (113), environment and social policy (each 71) and regional development (67).66 The emphasis was on building up effective and efficient implementation of the acquis communautaire; and, this on-the-job education and training included visits by officials from CEECs to member state capitals to witness implementation there of European legislation at first hand. It also provided a real opportunity for fostering bilateral contacts between established and future EU member states. Assessments of these twinning arrangements have been


fairly positive although mixed with some variation in their effectiveness according to the zeal of accession countries and the commitment of ministerial personnel from member states. Some criticisms have highlighted over-bureaucratic procedures imposed by the Commission and the cost of the exercise as well as the lack of preparedness of seconded officials, especially as regards language skills. But the most interesting lesson has been that twinning has been most relevant and effective when specifically tailored to the needs of, and worked out in close cooperation with, the candidate country in question rather than when seconded personnel sought to impose their own national experience or Western European norms on CEE.67 Whatever its defects, the twinning procedure has been primarily successful in knowledge transfer.68 As to the general picture of administrative reform on the eve of enlargement, one might say that there was progress when viewed diachronically within candidate states; but this was not really satisfactory when viewed with regard to their effectiveness as future member states and clearly not really comparable with the more efficient member states. However, there was considerable cross-national variation, as already suggested by the readiness or lack of it with which CEECs had already enacted civil service legislation. It is possible to argue that the more advanced cases compared well if not better than the less efficient member states in the EU like Greece and in some respects Italy. Some analogy might be drawn here with the similar varied incidence of corruption – a factor relevant to the prospects of introducing a professional civil service.69 But basic problems still remain in the more advanced cases, with Hungary – known for its reasonable record of administrative reform – still featuring a hidden form of politicisation behind the new formal rules due to the reluctance of politicians in power to relax control over personnel policy.70 A similar story was found in Poland where, despite suitable legislation, there were problems in overcoming the tradition of patronage from the interwar period and Communist rule.71 This obviously pointed to a regime legacy problem and one familiar to students of post-Fascist systems in Italy and Federal Germany with the ‘occupation’ of the state by party-political appointees. As a whole, administrative reform remained incomplete with some positive achievements like the introduction of strategic planning, the creation of institutes for public administration as well as new or revised legislation setting up the legal framework. There was evidence in some cases of decisions being taken in too much of a hurry to meet accession deadlines or to please Brussels, so not allowing for considerations of efficiency to dominate or consensus to be formed.72 There were also some familiar problems in implementing civil service legislation relating to resistant bureaucratic cultures, the scarcity of financial resources including for adequate salaries to meet professional requirements, the absence of suitable or sufficient skills at the level of human resources and difficulties in introducing the values and


methods of management.73 In this light, the Commission’s more optimistic conclusions on the matter, as in the 2002 progress reports, seem somewhat misplaced given the basic nature of these problems. Its scope for promoting change through reform of the state in these new democracies was in fact rather restricted, since it had no direct authority on the matter and had to use persuasion with accession governments. At best, one could say that reform of this kind takes time and that much remains to be done after CEE’s accession in May 2004. This could also be said of regionalisation required as part of accession for the purpose of administering regional development funds. Thus, ‘regional capacity’ became the operative term for Brussels. There has also been an understanding there that de-concentrating power after the experience of Communist rule can only be beneficial for the prospects of democracy in these countries.74 This latter motive was especially evident in the case of Slovakia for regionalisation would structurally reinforce democracy’s survival there after the drama of Meeiar and his authoritarian tendencies in power up till 1998.75 Regionalisation within accession has been a case of the EU actually prodding candidate countries into a potentially significant measure of state reform, although it has to be said that this has been for a largely functional reason. Once again, the EU has presented no model for such regionalisation, leaving matters like regional competences, the mode of election to these new bodies and the definition of centre–periphery relations to the countries themselves.76 There has emerged a diversity of models of sub-national government among EU member states themselves. In fact, in planning the regional units accession countries did look to Western European examples for ideas. However, this reform has not usually been carried out in the most considered way not least because of the very pressure of accession deadlines. Introduced in a top-down fashion, regionalisation has not always carried conviction or aroused interest among political elites. Moreover, national governments in CEE have usually resisted pressure to actually devolve regional policy to sub-national authorities.77 In the case of Slovakia, the severe conflict in the ruling coalition in 2001 over the number of regional units helped to undercut popular interest in the ensuing regional elections of December 2001 when turnout was exceptionally low. The lack of political and financial consensus has been evident in other CEECs; while resistance from entrenched local government interests has furthermore complicated regionalisation.78 Nevertheless, the EU has played an influential, albeit limited, role in instigating this process and has probably been decisive in overcoming initial domestic reservations and opposition to it.79 The process of regionalisation is new and so it remains to be seen how this new level of administration will develop in the years to come which will see early EU membership and the further underpinning of these still relatively young democracies.


Two particular problems have inhibited institutional adaptation and reform for EU accession. The first is a general mistrust towards political elites and political institutions in post-Communist countries. This arises from the ‘abuse’ of the state by Communist rule – which carried over into the democratic period – but also from frustration with the continuing post-Communist transformation and a scepticism towards the new political elites who are seen as narrowly partisan. The continuing politicisation of bureaucracies has encouraged this view, but particularly important too has been the widespread awareness of corruption in political and public life. In Latvia, the UNDP report noted in 2001 that less than one-fifth of those surveyed trusted the parliament, the cabinet and the parties; although professional experts were rated much more highly, suggesting that indeed the professionalisation of public authorities as promoted by the EU could produce a positive response. The reason is ‘related to the fact that people are far from convinced that decisions made by the country’s executive institutions are competent, honest and fair’ as well as the perceived lack of opportunity to influence public policy through democratic openness.80 The problem in Latvia was sufficiently strong for the national organisation of the referendum on EU membership to play down the role of political figures, placing instead an emphasis on popular cultural figures to get out the vote in favour of accession in September 2003.81 The European Commission was certainly aware of this problem although it was hardly in a position to solve this alone or directly. It took the view that the pressure it exerted in favour of professional administration and efficient government would eventually help to reduce this problem.82 The EU’s prestige within accession countries has remained quite high; and, in the course of time this might or might not make national institutions less suspect depending on how much with CEECs as member states the EU comes to be seen as part of their governance. Meanwhile, accession states had adopted the practice long found in member states whereby the EU was used by governing elites as a legitimating factor or argument for pushing through reforms and policy change that met resistance; although there was also an obvious risk in this tactic for the EU could also become an object of blame. The other problem was somewhat ambiguous. The question of ‘fit’ between EU institutional and administrative requirements, essentially based on Western European practice, and CEE systems surfaced in reference to Europeanisation and its adaptational pressures on domestic structures.83 European Commission thinking has not been very receptive to this line of discussion for it is concerned with precisely these countries’ ‘ability to assume the obligations of membership’, that is, to put in place suitable EU-blessed administrative procedures and implement the whole acquis communautaire as decided over a long period of time by established member states.84 On the CEE side, governing elites have tended to be rather pragmatic if not eclectic in their attitude on the matter if only because conceptions of


institution-building have not been successly present on their part. In fact, however, some CEECs have a tradition of links over administrative culture with certain Western European countries, like French influence over Romania’s public administration going back to the creation of the Romanian state in the nineteenth century.85 But, more importantly, CEE governments have given such a priority to accession business that criticism of Western European institutional preferences has not been openly voiced. Of course, the European Convention of 2002–03 provided a first and somewhat limited outlet for CEECs to have a say over future institutional development in the EU; and their influence will naturally grow after enlargement in 2004. In short, the EU is not actually being prescriptive about institutional models for post-Communist Europe. It is more – narrowly – concerned about streamlining, efficiency and effectiveness in pressing for satisfaction of the third condition for accession states. This essentially bureaucratic rather than political concern has allowed some flexibility and diversity among candidate countries as it does among member states. In conclusion, the EU exploited to the full the leverage it enjoyed over accession countries from Central & Eastern Europe with respect to administrative reform, as it had also done over imposing political and economic conditions because of the prospect of actual membership if these countries complied. It certainly hastened such reform and gave it a visibility it would not otherwise have achieved as well as providing some legitimation for such change. But the process was distinctly top-down, working as the EU did through governing elites where the pressure of time did not usually allow for adequate consultation and consensus-building. There were indeed signs of limited or partial modernisation in both administrative procedures and cultures, not surprisingly where national bureaucracies had the most regular contact with Brussels over accession matters, because the priority and intensity accorded these made it possible for new types of personnel to come forward. Wider effects were, however, not yet in evidence although it has to be remembered that the time taken so far for this reform has been relatively short. Clearly, questions remain for the future – one in which the CEECs are new member states of the EU. Furthermore, the reform has been limited by not being particularly radical in its attempt to change accession countries. But then this would in any case not have been realistic given the nature of legacies from the past and basic decisions already taken earlier in the 1990s with regard to establishing democratic institutions in CEECs. As a whole, therefore, the pressures of accession over institutional development in these countries, both concerning the management of negotiations and implementing the third Copenhagen condition, did involve some progress towards making them more effective democracies and institutionalising democratic governance. At the same time, this exercise also highlighted the


serious obstacles to the Europeanisation of domestic structures in countries that had not yet joined the European Union notwithstanding their commitment to doing so. Clearly, there were limits to the push/pull dynamics that drove institutional convergence with the EU.

4.4 Post-Communist governments and implementing the EU’s political conditions: efficiency or democracy? Drawing from previous discussion of problems of institutional adaptation during accession, we turn now directly to the question of implementing the EU’s democratic conditionality. While accession governments remain the central actors here, nevertheless – as transnational theories have emphasised – domestic factors may have a mediating or filtering effect which can complicate the push/pull effects within the accession process. Such domestic factors may facilitate as well as hinder the implementation of conditionality. In answering this question, comparative themes are presented concerning the implementation of conditionality as well as domestic patterns that affect this. Discussion then turns to examining four concrete case studies of different political conditions. The latter allows us to focus more closely on variable implementation problems as well as – obviously – taking note of cross-national differences. There are broadly three different ways of conceptualising the approach to implementing the EU’s political conditions: 1. The Eurocratic: apart from the EU’s own political motives for enlargement, this approach is mainly concerned about the consequences of enlargement for the operation of the EU. Hence, the stress is on the third condition of Copenhagen and on effectiveness in implementing the political and economic conditions. This Eurocratic focus is shown for instance by including the problem of corruption among the political conditions. Notwithstanding arguments this is linked with respect for the rule of law as central to liberal democracy, this condition is driven by a concern over how the EU operates in the future since importing wholesale corruption through enlargement would add immeasurably to the fraud problem with repercussions on the EU’s credibility. This approach views national governments in accession countries almost as ‘transmission belts’ for effecting the three conditions. It is obviously based on the notion of Brussels setting the rules for joining the EU ‘club’ and that these are not open to discussion. The Commission is indeed aware of domestic complications but, implicitly, there is a sense of impatience with these given the tight deadlines of accession. 2. The national-level top-down: basically hierarchical in outlook, this approach sees national governments as the principal actors of importance in this exercise. Viewing conditionality in strategic terms for achieving the goal of EU


membership, national governments understandably prefer a process of implementing democratic conditionality that is relatively uncomplicated. There is some similarity with the Eurocratic approach in that accession governments, assuming they are unreservedly committed to making a success of enlargement, accept the rules of the EU ‘club’ uncritically, as it were – although there have been occasions when CEE elites have experienced frustration with the Commission’s tight conditionality.86 As with the European Commission, national governments are working to the same tight deadline for accession and they veer towards a top-down approach particularly for reasons of time pressure. National governments show, however, less concern than Brussels about the problems of managing the enlarged EU in the event of failures in meeting the conditions if only because their almost exclusive attention is on accession itself. Furthermore, given their role, they are directly confronted with domestic pressures unlike Brussels which views these at a distance. 3. The national-level bottom-up: notwithstanding elitist tendencies in the enlargement process, this approach is relevant because of the importance of compliance for implementation. Compliance at the sub-national or societal levels is quite vital when looking at some political conditions, namely those dealing with human and minority rights rather than say the accountability of democratic institutions. Obviously, too, this approach has a special affinity with the needs of democratic consolidation and its reliance on societylevel developments (the growth in autonomy of non-state actors and the emergence of a democratically-inclined political culture). While the bottom-up approach is the polar opposite of the first two approaches, in practice it is complementary to them although sometimes in conflict especially with the second. This leads us to look more at interactions involving these different approaches; and that in turn reminds us of the role of intermediary actors in the political arena as well as interests and pressure groups in the socio-economic arena. Although the first approach carries the greatest weight – given the EU’s leverage over accession states – a convergence between the three approaches would be the best scenario for implementing conditionality. There is already a continuous convergence between the first two approaches as noted above, but this may not always hold if the national bottom-up approach is in conflict rather than complementary. In reality, however, the chances for such an overall convergence is likely to vary between the different political conditions. For instance, national governments need cooperation from some other domestic actors over some areas of implementation – notably, from NGOs with regard to human and minority rights. On another condition, the public in Central & Eastern Europe are usually aware of the extent of corruption in their countries and they tend to disapprove strongly of this. For that reason, they could be viewed


as possible allies for Brussels on this matter where dual pressure from ‘above’ (Brussels) and ‘below’ (public opinion) could be unbeatable in forcing national governments to act; although, obviously, in reality, no such alliance is easy to construct except passively due to the prestige of the EU or temporarily due to the fact that it can, as through the Commission’s regular reports, make an issue of certain failures in implementation that are guaranteed to win attention domestically. The issue of corruption may of course be complicated where it extends into government circles such as through close links between political figures and economic interests. Again, differently, on the matter of the Roma, Brussels together with some NGOs provides virtually the only real pressure for the public in post-Communist countries are hardly engaged on this issue; on the contrary, they evidence quite some prejudice towards the Roma. Governments, seeking to achieve some progress with the matter not least for the sake of accession, thus run the risk here of coming into conflict with public tendencies. Playing an influential part in these different scenarios are both political parties and the press insofar as they give attention to conditionality or, perhaps, show an interest in certain conditions over others. At this point, we may briefly characterise as follows the main domestic patterns that in general affect the role of national governments in their implementation of democratic conditionality: 1. System effectiveness: while this is meant to be upgraded for prospective membership, the actual state of institutional capacity is decisive in the implementation of conditionality as well as, of course, the acquis communautaire. Included here is the ability of the ministries responsible to carry through particular conditions, such as the Justice Ministry for judicial reform as well as special agencies such as those for fighting corruption. As discussed earlier in this chapter, an onus was correspondingly placed on effective inter-ministerial coordination but also especially on efficiency within each administrative entity involved in carrying through political conditions. This was crucial in responding to the annual pressure that came during negotiations from the Commission’s progress reports. This discussion may in the case of some conditions extend to local government which is closer to the ground than national government and may therefore have a special influence when it comes to actual compliance. It has been found in Latvia, for example, that ‘little politics’ at this level is more open to public involvement and hence to consensus-building, all the more since links between parties and economic interests are much less present here.87 From the systemic point of view, the role of NGOs may also be important at the local level and may be all the more influential when there is public mistrust in (usually national) political institutions which might affect the willingness of people to observe conditionality, for NGOs tend to enjoy rather more credibility in the public domain.


2. The situational: this refers primarily to a current government’s political standing which may well affect its capacity or influence or even immediate determination to push through conditionality. This may include the state of internal cohesion especially in coalition governments, continuity in the commitment to European integration; but also government popularity or unpopularity and the influence of levels of support for EU accession. Higher or lower levels of public support may make an incumbent government that much freer or less free in its handling of conditionality matters as well as accession business. Obviously, too, the proximity of election dates is a factor which distracts from other matters (although membership negotiations continue) and may even require some tactical sidestepping. Much depends on developments in the party system and whether its main actors continue to support the cause of accession or in populist fashion exploit government decisions, especially relating to those conditions – or chapters of the acquis communautaire – that could offend popular tendencies or sectoral preferences. By and large, situational factors form part of the context of implementation and they may or may not impinge directly on this. What they normally do is to dictate the scope within which governments seek to drive though conditionality and encourage compliance with it. 3. The empowerment of domestic actors and the dynamic of membership negotiations: this question has been raised in some work on European integration and domestic politics. It argues that opportunities are provided to domestic actors that may not otherwise exist, thus affecting the balance of power between them and other actors not so privileged or who may lose out in the accession process.88 We have already noted how the drive towards accession generally favours executive institutions in line with the routinisation and bureaucratisation of accession business. From this perspective, the focus is on national governments as the driving force behind the implementation of conditionality in their own countries. For instance, how much does accession favour reformers and modernisers at the national level, meaning ruling political elites – including individual political parties – but also bureaucratic ones (as shown in the previous section on Europeanisation effects on national civil services)? This particular question has certainly been present in the thinking of Commission officials in their calculation about the domestic politics of enlargement.89 A pertinent example is Slovakia where the first Dzurinda Government (1998–2002) carried through EU accession despite differences over the pace of economic reform among the coalition parties with the (ex-Communist) Party of the Democratic Left (SDL) resisting change on grounds of its social effects. Because of the government’s overall commitment to EU accession and Dzurinda’s mediating skills, this problem did not really damage its European policy and the government lasted through to its re-election in 2002. In other words, the reformers managed to pull through in a difficult situation with the EU factor almost certainly proving decisive.90 Strong and consistent public support for


EU entry as well as a general consensus at the elite level provided an influential background to this success. It may be inferred that the EU has some empowering effect on domestic actors which is greater once membership negotiations are in train because of the dynamic they create. Of course, as the literature on empowerment notes, EU affairs may also release opportunities for non-executive actors – whether opposition parties, economic interests or powerful pressure groups – to politicise these affairs or pursue their own causes at the European level. Alternatively, one may say that the EU can have a ‘tipping effect’ where the balance between domestic actors is finely drawn. In any case, reformers have to win support for their policy strategy and this includes convincing voters to re-elect them to national office. In turn, a government’s commitment and the dynamic of negotiations allow national leaders, if they have the necessary skill, to win over hesitant or reluctant opinion; and this tends to facilitate compliance with the EU’s conditions and the outcomes of negotiations. Such domestic scenarios will be explored later in much greater detail in Chapters 5 and 6. Meanwhile, we look now at concrete examples of different political conditions and their particular problems of implementation to complement the previous discussion. These illustrate the actual realities facing conditionality, highlight interactions between the three approaches to conditionality and, of course, help to illustrate cross-national variation. The four examples chosen are judicial reform, corruption, the Roma and the special question of institutionalised children. 1. Judicial reform: by securing the independence of the judiciary and making it a really professional body, this reform is one of the vital political conditions, for it is fundamental to the rule of law which is central to the functioning of liberal democracies. Judicial reform involved overcoming the legacy of the Communist period when judges were closely linked with the old regime. This usually presented problems concerning their understanding of their role in a democratic society for which their past training was not suitable, as a prominent human rights lawyer in Bulgaria noted: The transition from a totalitarian principle of social organisation towards a democratic principle, where the roles are clearly distinguished, is particularly painful for the third – judicial – power as it is unable to reform itself. It does not have the tools to adopt laws that would make it independent, nor does it have the resources needed to ensure the efficient functioning of the judicial system. In addition to these self-evident hurdles, very few members of the judiciary clearly realise the role of their system in a democratic society. The traditional education and understanding of lawyers in former socialist countries – that they should act as ‘counsel for the state’ – predetermines the lack of any concept for the reform among the members of the judiciary.91


In other words, the initiative and drive for reform had to come from the governmental level. Given however the rootedness of the problem, was the role of the EU little more than that of pressing accession governments to move, albeit slowly, along the road of reform? There has from the 1990s been an enormous growth in international rule-of-law assistance. However, the results have as a whole been disappointing due to the gap between the small scale of this assistance and the enormity of the problems which have beset judiciaries in transition countries. These include inadequate salaries, the lack of infrastructure and suitable support personnel as well as poor training and archaic practices.92 One should add that the problem is magnified by the considerable growth in demand for legal services in the new democratic framework. The matter can be further complicated by a reluctance among the political class to act on judicial reform partly as this involves ceding a form of political patronage and control. However, the EU does much more than other international organisations and aid agencies possess a powerful leverage over countries seeking its membership. How has this worked out? One revealing instance is the Czech Republic which in the Commission’s progress report of 1999 was strongly criticised for its failure to make any progress in judicial reform over the previous year. This had the intended shock effect and resulted in the Zeman Government adopting a reform programme for the judiciary to rectify the situation. In the words of a senior official in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Prague, the 1999 report was ‘a cold shower’ for attitudes there which had blamed the previous government in office till 1998; and there were ‘genuine fears now that the Czech accession could go wrong’. Not only were EU laws given a fast track but there also followed a government reorganisation to make the Czech effort more effective with a new coordinative committee chaired by the prime minister.93 In other words, the connection between failures in democratic conditionality and the prospects for negotiations creates a powerful pressure for action. It took however some time and further pressures from the Commission to effect the promised improvements in judicial reform in that country. Progress in judicial reform can indeed be slow, as was seen in Latvia. Even as late as 2002, the Commission’s progress report complained: ‘while most of the deficiencies of the judicial system have been identified, only part of them have been addressed’ so that ‘efforts in this field need to be multiplied in order to ensure a thorough systemic reform, based on political support for modernising the judiciary and sufficient funding’.94 Nevertheless, in EU eyes, there is scope for influence as pressure from Brussels ‘helps those who are trying to get a more responsible judiciary’. In this case, the state president of Latvia had taken a strong line over judicial reform and ‘this opened discussion’ over the matter which provided a stimulus.95 What came across was that passing laws to promote reform – where the EU pressure could be most decisive – was far from enough to remedy the situation after the Communist experience.


As shown by the case of Romania, political control was a major problem which referred to the powerful position of the Ministry of Justice notwithstanding detailed improvements in the condition of the judiciary. This was highlighted by the 2002 progress report on that country which concluded that ‘the executive’s involvement in judicial affairs has not been reduced in practice’.96 The Romanian government did indeed respond to that report with ‘a comprehensive strategy’ for dealing with outstanding problems;97 but there was evidence of a lack of strong political will on the part of the Nastase Government to force through change.98 Clearly, the main problem here is that the implementation of judicial reform involves – in addition to a range of practical difficulties – changing the mentality of judges and training them in new areas like human rights, anti-corruption, environmental protection and banking law as well as European law itself – all of which were unfamiliar to Romanian judges.99 The combination in Romania’s case of continuing political influence from above with these deeper problems of human resources and the general complexity of judicial reform suggested that this process of judicial reform will in that country at least be a long one. 2. Corruption: fighting this is very likely to be another long process of change but one where the scope for the EU by itself to force the pace is much less than with judicial reform. This is because, whatever the complexities of judicial reform, there are clear ways forward which given time are likely to produce some success, that is, through establishing new professional structures and through personnel and especially generational turnover. With corruption, special agencies may be created and anti-corruption laws passed but with the best political will governments continue to confront practices which are long-standing, fairly widespread and somewhat deep-rooted. But political will is usually weakened in CEE by close links between politicians, especially those in power, and special interests and corrupt practices. There is also the matter of perception that may appear to exaggerate this problem, for as a senior official in Romania remarked: ‘if everything [in the system] is not working, people blame corruption’.100 The public in CEE are as a whole very conscious of the widespread practice of corruption in their countries; and this raises the potential for deeper disillusionment with the political class, with possible implications for democratic consolidation. On the other hand, this public awareness has provided a sort of passive pressure that together with active pressure from the EU from above can help to encourage some effort at finding a solution. Corruption is regularly monitored by different international sources, including the World Bank, the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD), sometimes the IMF, the Open Society Institute (OSI) and of course Transparency International (TI). All this activity provides a regular means of exposure but that by itself does not suffice. It is the EU that above all possesses the most powerful form of pressure because its influence is more compelling than the other international actors. It has leverage over political but also


economic elites in candidate countries because of the accession process, adding force to the firm condition that candidate countries have to set in place effective anti-corruption mechanisms through suitable strategies, anticorruption agencies and legislation. There is furthermore the link between corruption and other EU conditions such as judicial and administrative reform which lends further pressure over the former issue. While corruption is rife in CEE, it is reasonable to suppose that without the EU incentive its condition there would definitely be worse and possibly of ‘Wild East’ proportions comparable to countries from the former Soviet Union and, for that matter, some Balkan countries like Albania and Macedonia that have no serious prospects in the foreseeable future of moving through the accession process. The EU not only applies the pressure of exposure but through its visibility and influence it engages with domestic politics. Opposition parties use this EU pressure, such as through the progress reports, to attack governments over the issue; and it is in such ways that the vicious circle may be broken or at least shaken. According to a Czech member of the TI Board, the EU’s impact is not minimal. It is important not only because it ‘forces us to make institutional changes and without institutional changes you can’t fight corruption’; but also as the EU much more than other international organisations compels implementation and enforcement (on which advice is provided by member states through twinning arrangements). In the Czech case, EU pressure helped to break the ‘corrupt triangle’ between politics, finance and the media because it was EU pressure that persuaded newspaper owners to overcome their reluctance to cover and even campaign against corruption in high political places, including the Klaus Government whose fall in 1997 owed much to exposure of its corrupt behaviour.101 It goes without saying that media exposure also promotes public disquiet about corruption. In Latvia, an EU source noted that incentives for corruption were diminishing because ‘Latvians are embarrassed by corruption’ which had acquired more notoriety. In fact, Prime Minister Repse had been elected in 2002 as head of the New Era party, a new force committed to fighting corruption; and to this end had among other things strengthened the role of the Finance Ministry and raised ministerial salaries (presumably to make corrupt tendencies less likely) although, admittedly, ‘there was little EU influence here’.102 But persistence is important in exercising political will over this matter. Clearly, while common to post-Communist countries, there are also cross-national differences in the degree and to some extent the form of corruption, as indeed shown in the TI ratings. These have tended to put Slovenia and Estonia at the top in terms of better performance and Romania as by far the worst in Europe. Corruption in Romania has been a persistent problem of some magnitude. According to the Commission’s 2001 progress report, it is a ‘widespread and systemic problem that undermined the legal system, the economy and public confidence in the government’.103 That


year the Romanian government adopted a National Programme for the Prevention of Corruption and the National Action Plan against Corruption, followed in 2002 by measures to accelerate the implementation of the National Anti-Corruption Strategy combined with a series of laws or conventions against corruption in 2002–03. Thus, the Romanian government at last made a real effort to achieve the first aim which is to set in place the legal framework, although the country has a reputation in EU circles for producing fine-sounding documents that remain on paper. The essential problem is one of implementation which is generally very difficult in this area. As the 2002 progress report concluded, ‘corruption remains a widespread and systemic problem in Romania that is largely unresolved. Despite a legal framework that is reasonably comprehensive, and which has been expanded over the last year, law enforcement remains weak. New institutional structures have been created but are not yet fully operational’.104 One of the real difficulties is the lack of trained staff especially in the National Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (NAPO) where special skills such as in information technology, economic crimes and fraud are required.105 Some assistance is available through twinning arrangements, notably with Spain which can provide lessons from its own experience of fighting corruption in the past. It remains therefore to be seen how much real progress Romania makes before that country’s projected accession in 2007. 3. The Roma: this question faces a rather different scenario for, while it has been common to several CEECs seeking admission to the EU, public opinion is invariably indifferent if not hostile towards this minority. Yet, it is the EU that is the driving force on the matter and not just the Commission but also the EP that has, among other things, made a cause of their situation as evident at regular meetings with CEE representatives of the JPCs. Furthermore, NGO activity has been important in responding to this problem especially at the local level in countries like Slovakia. One may speak of a certain empowerment through accession of NGOs in this area which have received funds from the EU as well as from some private foundations. The EU puts pressure on the political elites in accession countries and expects their governments to take remedial action. But there is no domestic advantage for them in doing so even though responding to pressure from Brussels obviously eases their countries’ paths towards membership. As a study in Slovakia – which has a large Roma population – pointed out, ‘given the great social distance the majority continues to keep from the Roma, attempts to solve Roma problems have not yet produced tangible results for politicians, in terms of an increase in their popularity’ and, it was noted, ‘many are trying to avoid the issue’. Yet, the same study identified the core question so far as democratic consolidation is concerned: If Slovakia is to be transformed into a developed country with a liberal democratic regime, the Roma issue must be perceived not as a matter of


obeying the recommendations of international organisations, but as an increasingly serious problem of social exclusion that has to be addressed by every post-industrial society.106 By 2001, as the Commission progress reports recorded, national action plans were in place in all accession countries with sizeable Roma communities while in 2002 some progress had been made with their implementation. This was certainly an advance on the situation in 1999, when the Commission’s progress report had complained that: Deep-rooted prejudice in many of the candidate countries continues to result in discrimination against the Roma in social and economic life. There has been an increasing incidence of racially motivated violence against the Roma which has not received the unequivocal response from the authorities which it demands. Roma communities suffer unemployment, slum-like living conditions, poor health and education and increasing dependence on social welfare (where it exists). Roma children are segregated in some school systems and many are street children. While there have been encouraging developments in some of the candidate countries with the adoption of specific programmes aimed at improving the situation of the Roma, a concerted effort is still required to ensure that these programmes are actually implemented.107 Three years were obviously not long enough for resolving what is a deeprooted problem. The accession process is spread over a relatively short time but EU leaders have made a point of giving visibility to the problem. For instance, Commissioner Verheugen literally went out of his way – in company with Prime Minister Dzurinda – to visit Roma settlements in eastern Slovakia in February 2001. He reported on his visit rather enthusiastically to the joint parliamentary committee ( JPC) in Brussels the following month when he described his visit as an ‘important signal’ in solving the problem of this ‘important minority’. Verheugen also commented significantly that Brussels could not expect the Roma issue to be resolved before accession actually took place. According to the record of the meeting, Verheugen ‘welcomed the commitment to improving the conditions of the Roma minority while stipulating that he did not expect the issue could be completely resolved prior to accession, an effective strategy would, however, be required’.108 It was decided to hold the next JPC at Kosice in eastern Slovakia in October so that MEPs could then also visit neighbouring Roma communities. The ultimate question is whether this distinctly top-down pressure has any deeper effects, so that Verheugen’s optimistic expectation is realised with no serious relapse in Roma conditions after accession occurs. As one Bulgarian politician put it in reference to the Roma question, the EU is ‘not an artificial stimulator to change Bulgaria’ for ‘if Bulgarians are not


stimulated themselves, the EU would not carry influence here’.109 As to neighbouring Romania, where there was a large Roma population, it was felt that the EU was influential in the process of change but progress there was slow. The government now had a Roma strategy finalised in 2001 with support from EU funds; and, the EU’s anti-racism directive of 2000 was an important reference point for civic leaders.110 All the same, the 2002 Commission progress report on Romania took the country to task for inadequacies in making the legal framework fully operational and for serious failures in implementation of the Roma strategy.111 4. Institutionalised children: this issue is peculiar to Romania, being a legacy of the Ceaubescu regime that sought to boost population growth, compelling families to produce more children at a time when economic standards were declining so that many were not able to cope with the consequences of meeting this demand. Accordingly, when the regime fell in 1989, nearly 100,000 children were discovered living in miserable conditions in state orphanages. This emotive issue has attracted at times much international publicity and there has been pressure from different international organisations, including the EU, as well as from various European countries, as well as the media and some NGOs. The pressure from abroad is therefore not just official but this in a way only adds to the pressure that the EU can exert. As the Commission report on Romania of 1999 asserted: ‘The issue of child protection is a matter of human rights under the political criteria of Copenhagen.’112 This issue is of particular interest since it was one of the few cases of a political condition being directly linked to whether or not membership negotiations should be halted. The draft report of the European Parliament of May 2001 posed this question for it took the view that the ‘smooth development of the negotiations will necessarily depend upon Romania’s capacity to bring her child welfare fully inside the UN Convention for the Rights of the Child, since this forms part of the acquis communautaire of Justice and Home Affairs which chapter’s opening is planned for autumn 2001’.113 The issue had been building up for several years. Already in 1999 the Commission’s progress report had been highly critical of Romania urging that ‘it is now of crucial importance that the Government, as it has been repeatedly requested by the Commission, gives top priority to child protection and accepts that it has primary responsibility for the well-being of all children in care’.114 In the end, the pressure from the EU was somewhat personalised for it reflected the fierce commitment to the issue of Emma Nicholson, rapporteur on Romania in the EP who had a facility for promoting this cause. Her provocative threat in the draft report was a deliberate attempt to force the hand of the Romanian authorities, who had up till then been reluctant to embrace the matter fully. It worked simply because Romania’s very ambitions to ‘return to Europe’ were placed in jeopardy and because Nicholson’s timing was perfect.


The move had the desired effect, not least because of Romanians being sensitive to international opinion about their country. There was intense coverage in the Romanian press; and the reaction among government circles was immense (as evident in the author’s interviews in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and with EU specialists in the Parliament at this very point in time). There was some irritation in Bucharest over the way the issue had been provoked but the overwhelming concern was to prevent Romania’s accession process from being derailed. Looking back on the event, the general director of the EU department in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs recalled that ‘it was a powerful signal and it was understood in Bucharest’; while the deputy Chief Negotiator with the EU noted in a more downbeat way that ‘we were a little bit concerned’ for a short period of time.115 The prime minister immediately responded by stopping international adoptions, introducing new legislation and increasing funds. There was a substantial increase in the budget allocation for institutionalised children, an increase in alternative childcare services and measures were introduced to strengthen local government responsibility in this area, as noted by the European Commission in its progress report at the end of 2001.116 By the time of the 2002 progress report, ‘significant progress’ was recognised and so the issue had ceased to be linked with Romania’s accession prospects. It was in any case a rather easier problem to resolve than say that of the Roma for much less prejudice was involved and the solution depended so much more on simply legal provisions and public expenditure. For this reason, it was a straightforward example of where EU pressure worked in a far less complicated way than with other political conditions examined which tended to become strongly intermixed with domestic politics. In conclusion, these four examples show indeed that not only are the EU’s Copenhagen political conditions varied but also face rather different problems and scenarios when focussing on the question of their implementation. Some like ensuring institutional accountability at the national level (not examined here) are easier to implement because they depend essentially on passing new institutional rules to satisfy Brussels; while the question of the stability of political institutions concentrates above all on the continuity and cohesion of those in power, that is, this condition has a distinctly executive focus. The cases chosen above have a less exclusive institutional focus although in all of them action depends at least in the first instance on introducing suitable legal frameworks; and they express the diversity of experience when assessing problems of implementing democratic conditionality. Overall, they tend to demonstrate that the EU has been a crucial influence. While the EU is most effective when pressurising national governments, exploiting their overriding desire for acceptance as future member states, these cases also illustrate that interactions between EU pressure and different


domestic actors can be decisive but in different ways. Whereas over corruption it is the dual pressure of the EU from outside and public disapproval over elite behaviour from below that explains national responses, with the Roma there is no such ally for Brussels in public support and so progress here is much harder notwithstanding complementary action by NGOs. Essentially, Brussels has to make fairly crude use of its leverage over accession to produce action by governments together with some diplomacy and persuasion. The problem of getting a response, much belated, from Romania on the issue of institutionalised children was essentially a one-off problem, although continued pressure has been necessary to keep the Romanian authorities locked into producing improvements. In other words, the influence of the EU has been fairly decisive in spurring accession governments into action – albeit sometimes slowly – over implementation. And, yet, these same cases also illustrate the limitations to the EU’s role. First and foremost, the EU was not able to bring about early or immediate change even in the case of institutionalised children for that issue suffered neglect for some years. It has to be content with getting accession countries to think ahead by adopting strategies and to move along in the right direction. There is a possible risk here that actual accession might relax efforts on the part of the new member states from CEE, but much depends on progress made meanwhile in meeting conditionality demands. It is also obvious that the EU in the form of the Commission is basically very dependent on the political will of national governments through which it has to operate. However, the case of corruption is interesting as it shows the Commission siding with the national public in the face of reluctant or sometimes recalcitrant political authorities; but also important has been parallel pressure over and exposure of corruption by other international organisations or agencies. In general, a combination of the stick via the progress reports and the carrot through the focussed use of European expertise and funds can help with some of the political conditions; but in the end, as shown by our discussion above of the three ways of conceptualising the application of democratic conditionality, the EU and national governments had somewhat different concerns within the same intensive time schedule to meet the enlargement deadline. This can produce problems in relations between accession governments and Brussels for the former inevitably have to deal with different domestic actors and domestic pressures from which problem the European Commission is basically free.

4.5

Better democratic governance?

From the above analysis, it appears that efficiency has often been a dominant motive on the part of the European Commission. This is obviously clear when considering administrative reform and state capacity, where EU concerns


unmistakably looked beyond accession to how the EU would function once enlarged – dramatically – to 25 member states. It is also somewhat evident in the construction of democratic conditionality which in true bureaucratic fashion adopts the ‘list system’ for facilitating its monitoring procedure. Nevertheless, this concern with efficiency – however much justified – is not exclusive, for the EU has over the past decade greatly upgraded its strategy on democratic conditionality concerning new democracies that wish to accede and, as its growing concern with human rights shows, there is also a democratic sensitivity on its part. So, given that the EU does not in fact operate with a clear conceptual vision of democratic governance, what have been its effects on Central and Eastern Europe in pushing for a better form of that governance? A cautious answer would be that the EU has indeed benefited institutionally the post-Communist countries in their difficult regime changes and transformations. After all, Brussels provided a powerful carrot as well as a relentless stick over institutional adjustment and implementing conditionality although the actual amounts of aid alongside training and expertise were not that large. But, in fact, the positive benefits were more extensive than at first appear. One can appreciate this negatively by asking what would have happened if the EU had not intervened in the process of transformation in CEE. As the case of corruption suggests, the situation would have been distinctly and possibly decidedly worse. In general, the Commission has been successful in urging accession states to adopt strategic plans and to introduce new institutional mechanisms and procedures; but the failings of conditionality were most evident in implementation on the ground and rather more over certain political conditions than others. However, a positive answer has to broach the dynamic question, namely that it was essentially the overall accession process that most of all carried forward the implementation of democratic conditionality. This is underlined by examining in turn the two successive phases of pre-negotiations and then actual membership negotiations. Even though the EU’s political conditions were more visible in the former phase, because their satisfaction was decisive in persuading the EU to invite countries to negotiate, it was the enhanced dynamics that accession then acquired through the shift to these negotiations – together with the progress these made – that contributed much to propelling forward the implementation as distinct from the observation of democratic conditionality. This is shown in many instances and not just when the two parallel processes – negotiations and the continued monitoring of the political conditions – became ominously intertwined, as happened over the special issue of institutionalised children in Romania or momentarily over judicial reform in the Czech Republic. Thus, one may refer again to the push/pull dynamics that marks accession to the EU from fairly early on. Undoubtedly, this is marked in the overriding


motivation to join the EU on the part of accession governments, where democratisation is an important though not exclusive consideration. But, beyond that, the story is not usually so simple due to short- term and other domestic pressures. For in the end, the process of implementing democratic conditionality has to undergo a filtering effect through such domestic pressures; but, it goes without saying that this is itself a sign of the democratic process at work and, therefore, in principle a heartening indicator for new democracies – even though one perhaps not easily accommodated by the rather bureaucratic view of democratic consolidation espoused by EU officials. The wider and possibly deeper effects of democratic conditionality remain to be seen, although provisional indicators are drawn from the following discussion of the political and socio-economic arenas. However, judging by this examination of institutional adjustment and problems of implementing democratic conditionality before membership occurs, the negative effects with EU links becoming bureaucratised had not yet at least been as harmful as once feared earlier during accession; nor had the imposition of West European institutional ideas caused any apparent disharmony. But this conclusion must remain tentative subject to further developments during early EU membership. Altogether, then, the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation was more or less complementary during accession when viewed in the broad and more long-term perspective of institutional change. But, when viewed in a more short-term perspective, which understandably often dominates the thinking of democratic elites, then the relationship was marked by difficulties and frustration. Overall, this means that European integration has tended to reinforce democratic consolidation institutionally – a process set in train prior to EU accession becoming a realisable prospect – but that it has also contributed much to the government overload of these new post-Communist democracies at some cost to executive stability and hence democratic performance.

5 The Political Arena and Intermediary Actors in Candidate Countries: Political Parties, Opinion-makers and Public Impacts

5.1

Intermediary actors and enlargement politics

While national governments in candidate countries of Central and Eastern Europe have been the key gatekeepers in determining the implementation of the EU’s democratic conditionality, they have nevertheless acted under domestic constraints while subject to direct pressure from Brussels. Within this interactive dynamic, the filtering role of intermediary actors in domestic politics and their influence in facilitating or, alternatively, complicating the impact of conditionality becomes obviously important. In particular, attention is given to the central part played by political parties in these new democracies as well as the media and – in line with the approach of this study in focussing on interactions within the dynamic of enlargement – the impacts they have on public opinion, not to mention the influence the latter may have on the former. At the same time, the pressures of the accession process and its Europeanising effects will be taken into account. How did these intermediary actors fit into the push/pull dynamics of EU enlargement? Clearly, such intermediary actors while essentially non-governmental are to some degree subject to governmental influence. This is particularly true of political parties holding national office during accession and it is also applicable to areas of the media, especially the electronic – which has indeed been a matter of controversy in some Central and Eastern European (CEE) states as being detrimental to competitive politics. Nevertheless, the virtue of looking at these intermediary actors is that they are instrumental in determining acquiecence with if not contributing to the real impact of EU conditionality, alongside the direct influence that governments possess through institutional outlets and official organs. For together they are the principal regular mechanisms of communication between the state and the public. Since parties generally enjoy some potential as legitimating actors over political issues, they are 145


likely to affect compliance with EU accession and hence democratic conditionality whether this be through supporting government efforts in that direction (as in the case of government parties or a basically pro-EU media), indirectly influencing this question by helping to create the political environment in which conditionality is pursued effectively or, rather differently, by opposing government policy here in a way that weakens consensus behind the accession process and with it the prospects for conditionality. Political parties are especially crucial in this dynamic because they usually represent multiple linkages between the public and the state, including not just the electoral but also the participatory (in the sense of inter-electoral activity), the controlling such as over the allocation of resources, the educative as in the propagation of values and the clientelistic as in the preference shown towards some interests. As Lawson puts it neatly, ‘the political party is the one agency that can claim to have as its raison d’etre the creation of an entire linkage chain, a chain of connections that runs from the voters through the candidates and the electoral process to the officials of government’.1 This argument may be taken further by including the linkages that parties establish with other political, economic or social actors or elite groups, although the degree to which this occurs is usually cross-nationally variable but also variable between parties within the same country. However, it must be remembered that party systems in CEE are by and large not so developed as those in Western Europe so their ability to perform these multiple functions is accordingly weaker. But also they have in most cases remained unstable and unconsolidated right through the accession period. The media are obviously a different kind of intermediary actor – one that may be informative, awareness-raising, provocative or tendentious about the meaning and image of European integration. They may have considerable short-term impact and an influence which rivals that of parties given the strong reliance by people on the media for regular political news and information.2 The potential for the media’s role with regard to enlargement has been enormous given the low level of public information and understanding about the EU in the CEE accession countries. In EU member states, such a lack of knowledge has resulted in the public employing ‘proxies rooted in domestic political considerations (government, party and system support) when responding to questions about the integration process’3 – a generalisation even more applicable to accession states with their shorter experience of integration and their absence so far of direct effects of membership. It is possible to view this dynamic between parties, the media and the public as reflecting on the ongoing democratisation process which has evolved concurrently with that of EU accession. That is, these actors clearly play an important, albeit variable, part in determining the effects of political conditionality; but their own way of handling this matter and accession politics in general is itself an indicator of the new democratic game as it

The Political Arena and Intermediary Actors 147

progresses. This connection is all the more important since opinion research has tended to emphasise the strong link between support for European integration and satisfaction with democracy in the post-Communist CEE.4 In noting this, one needs to recall that the structures and procedures of democracy are themselves subject to modification and change as well as possible erosion during the accession process. In other words, these various domestic actors are operating in a system or framework that is becoming increasingly Europeanised as discussed earlier in Chapter 4. For this reason, we have to consider two-way effects: how these actors affect the impact of the EU on their countries; but also how far they are themselves affected by that organisation and the possibilities that open up for transnational networking. This theme is explored by assessing political parties as in turn domestic and then transnational actors before looking at the media as opinion makers and their own interactions, together with those of the parties, in relation to national publics. This last section will finish by paying attention to the series of referenda on EU membership in the CEE candidate countries which really brought to an end the politics of enlargement.

5.2 Political parties as domestic actors in the accession process Europeanisation effects on political parties in member states of the EU is not a well-developed theme, although the European policy lines of individual parties have received attention in empirical work. Recent efforts to interpret such effects have been exploratory and somewhat sceptical. For instance, Mair has argued that there has been little direct impact on the format (the number of key players) and the mechanics (how parties interact) in their party systems due primarily to the lack of spillover from the European to the national electoral arenas. At the same time, he acknowledges that indirect effects may be important and refers to the depoliticising influence from domestic consensus on integration and the hollowing out of political competition which, together with the lack of democratic accountability at the EU level, risks adding to political disillusionment among national publics.5 Remembering that party systems in EU member states have by and large remained relatively stable (with occasional exceptions like the Belgian in the 1970s and the Italian in the 1990s), it may be suggested that the still unconsolidated party systems in the new democracies of post-Communist Europe have in fact been rather more open to outside influences, especially from the neighbouring European environment.6 Moreover, their continued evolution and all the difficulties of individual party unsettledness and fragmentation, the sudden appearance of new party actors and the general lack of party system institutionalisation have occurred within the context of the EU accession process with its intensities and unrelenting time pressures.


Certainly, there is no question that Europeanising effects have been considerable in terms of policy focus and activity. This is obviously very true for parties holding government responsibility in this period. But it also applies, only to a lesser extent, to parties in parliamentary opposition which have had to respond to accession deadlines and the whole range of acquis communautaire issues through committee work and plenary sessions and of course develop their own expertise on EU affairs to keep pace competently with the flow of EU business. A marked shift therefore came once negotiations started and parties, in particular their parliamentary groups, were compelled to move beyond policy declarations and to deal with the flood of concrete and often very technical issues embodied in European legislation. For some parliamentarians at least, this shift amounted to a cultural change and even shock especially for those whose stand on the EU had previously been little more than rhetorical. For others, like national Members of Parliament (MPs) who were regular attenders at the biannual sessions of the joint parliamentary committees with MEPs, the meat of EU policies was somewhat more familiar but even so discussion of them at JPC meetings was essentially platonic. Almost by contrast, decisions made in negotiations with Brussels were set in most cases to have a decisive impact on policy output in candidate countries. Some of the accession issues have been very visible and at times quite controversial like agricultural policy and EU resources in Poland, the salience of historical issues relating to past relations with Germany in the Czech Republic and the question of administrative reform, demanded by accession, which nearly brought the downfall of the Slovak coalition government in the summer of 2001. There is, furthermore, the whole area of European transnational party activity – not considered in Mair’s analysis – which in the case of CEE has had a significant influence on party-political learning and professionalisation and party elite socialisation. These different effects – the one nationalinstitutional, the other transnational – may be counted as direct in terms of party development in post-Communist states. While transnational activity is examined separately in the next section, we look further here at particular effects of EU accession on party systems in CEE rather than be content with bland discussion of Europeanisation effects. This allows for better analytical testing in view of the point already made in the sparse literature on Europeanisation and parties that this is a complex area and thus difficult for teasing out conclusions. The first effect may be called conceptual or cultural. It is best defined by Risse who referred to the emergence of transnational European discourses with implications for the perceptions of political elites, such as in challenging collective nation-state identities following the continuous transference of competences to the EU level. Admittedly, the response to or accommodation of what is acceptable as ‘European’ is likely to vary between different national contexts which determine what (new) identity ideas in this respect


become useful in say winning elections.7 Thus, cultural factors relating to European integration may feed into domestic arenas and become instrumentalised or at least provide new opportunities for some domestic actors. It is conceivable that the intensity of EU accession provokes or acerbates such a tendency all the more once EU membership looks increasingly probable. In terms of party alignments, one may distinguish among political forces between those which are ‘cosmopolitan’ (meaning open to outside, specifically European or Western influences) and those which stress the ‘national interest’. Such a distinction has been made with respect to especially Poland, a country where national consciousness has been buttressed by fundamental Catholic values, thus emphasising a cultural approach on the matter of integration with the EU.8 But it may be applied to other CEE candidate countries where there are relevant parties which are either nationalist (thus advocating the historical antithesis to the value of European unity) or espouse value-based reservations about the purpose of enlargement. Such parties would include Meeiar’s Movement for a Democratic Slovakia (HZDS) especially during his third government in Slovakia (1994–98) as well as Tudor’s Greater Romania Party (PRM) in the earlier 1990s in Romania. But, generally, it is Eurosceptic parties that fall into the ‘national interest’ category. Of importance here is how much the pressures of accession actually produce a change in their strategy or behaviour. In the cases of the HZDS and PRM at least, there has been a softening of their expressed reservations about integration in recent years. Clearly, electoral politics and political opportunities have played a relevant part in this change given that in these two countries public support for EU membership remained consistently high through the accession period. Obviously, political leaders drew on the consequences. One other variation on Risse’s theme of changing perceptions among political elites is to apply the four imperatives of the ‘return to Europe’ presented in Chapter 3. Clearly, this concentrates our attention on those parties that are basically pro-EU (in fact the vast majority of main parties in CEE) by virtue of their espousal of one or more of these imperatives. However, such differentiation could reflect on variations of commitment to integration and the degree to which parties allow European considerations to affect their strategies and policy lines. This could furthermore illustrate cross-party variation within candidate countries, thus moving the discussion beyond that in Chapter 3 which dwelt on cross-national variation in this respect. Furthermore, it would be useful to ascertain whether attachment to such imperatives is intrinsic deriving from parties’ value systems or is opportunistic or instrumental in response to accession’s progress towards success. This is obviously a difficult area to research, being dependent on close empirical analysis of party-political motivation case by case. For the moment,


at least, some cases are fairly self-evident. The historical imperative clearly features in those parties whose leaders have regularly employed the rhetoric about the ‘return to Europe’, redefined national identity with European colours and also paradoxically emphasised the need to break with the historical, especially the Communist, past. The last certainly involves those parties whose pronounced anti-Communism is channelled into the European cause, such as centre-Right parties in Poland (like AWS) and in Romania. But, generally, the historical imperative is likely to identify those parties which are most straightforwardly pro-EU since in a way this imperative is somewhat all-embracing. Cases that come to mind are Dzurinda’s Slovak Democratic and Christian Union (SDKU) in Slovakia, the Christian Democratic Union/People’s Party (KDU/CSL) in the Czech Republic and the Union of Democratic Forces (UDF) in Bulgaria, not to mention other centreRight or Christian Democratic parties in most of these countries. The democratic imperative may be found virtually everywhere on Left and Right but it is usually pronounced where the transition to democracy has remained under domestic threat and the link with Europe is used to counter this threat. An outstanding case in point is the Slovak situation during 1994–98. The then parties in opposition to Meeiar, now in government, felt themselves defenders of that country’s new democracy in the face of growing authoritarian practices under Meeiar. They sought support and encouragement from their transnational partners in the EU as well as informal contacts with EU circles.9 In this instance, the democratic imperative was very much Europeanised. And, one might add, this experience of transnational party support before 1998 strengthened the commitment and determination of these Slovak parties to pursue EU membership once they were elected to power in that year. The security imperative is most in evidence among parties which emphasise Euro-Atlantic integration and not just European integration and which pursue close links with the USA and have a strong anti-Russian motive in their policy line. This imperative embraces many parties on the centre-Right and is particularly strong in the Baltic states; but also some of the centre-Left parties including those, like in Poland and Hungary, which originated in reformed Communism. But some surprising cases feature here, like the Romanian PRM for which Euro-Atlantic integration offers an outlet for anti-Russian feeling due to the party’s advocacy of unification with Moldova and opposition to Russian influence there.10 Clearly, parties which have drawn mainly on support from the Russian minorities in the Baltic states have been the least inclined to embrace the security imperative whatever other factors influence their positions on the EU. Finally, the modernising/economic imperative is most evident among those parties that have most fervently supported economic reforms which are of course a precondition for EU accession. This refers, in particular, to centre-Right parties for those on the centre-Left have often stressed the need


to consider the social costs of economic transformation and if necessary to slow this down. However, some parties do not easily fit into this categorisation. The Civic Democratic Party (ODS) in the Czech Republic has been a clear advocate of marketisation – indeed, its former leader, Václav Klaus gained his reputation as an economic reformer – and yet the party’s line has not officially followed the logic of European integration. From this brief glance at parties in CEE, it is not possible to draw a definite picture about their intrinsic or opportunistic espousal of the four imperatives, save to remark that in several cases a value or even ideological attachment to European integration evidently harmonised quite well with domestic advantage, especially in countries with high levels of popular support for EU entry. However, it is this last factor that most of all locates parties with an opportunistic position. This is most likely among those labelled Eurosceptic that wish to survive and flourish electorally and which, in addition, begin to adjust in advance to the growing truth that their countries are going to become member states of the EU. They will be examined below when we turn to the domestic arenas of these candidate countries. Second, there are various effects relating to the EU’s monitoring of domestic politics and democratic standards so far as parties are concerned. But these must be considered an informal element in that conditionality. Notwithstanding the central or less central role played by political parties in the new democratic politics of candidate countries, the European Commission does not pronounce officially on political parties which are excluded from the annual progress reports (except indirectly insofar as they may affect the stability of governments and therefore their effectiveness in pursuing accession).11 It is however one that features regularly in the monthly political reports that heads of EU delegations (EU ambassadors) send to Brussels; while members of the country desks in the Commission have usually been well informed on party developments in the countries they are covering in CEE and have kept detailed files on political figures and individual parties. During the Slovak coalition crisis of summer 2001, the Commission had direct contacts with the Hungarian party (SMK) which was threatening to leave the government because of differences over the formula for regional government structures; but this was done discreetly. Pressure was put on the SMK to reconsider its threat as the fall of the government could favour Meeiar; and all parties in the Slovak government were told ‘to cool off’.12 The Commission sees itself as basically dealing with accession governments in its own capacity as an executive body of the EU; and, as relying on other organisations like the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) for monitoring elections and party activity. There are, moreover, the European transnational parties which cater precisely for parties from applicant states. In practice, however, EU delegations to these countries exercised some discretion over direct contacts with political parties. There is a convention that one either meets leaders of all parties or none at all. To some degree, the


first option is dictated by protocol factors such as appointments with political figures who hold high positions in the state like parliament presidents, ministers and of course heads of government. The problem arises with some political figures qua party leaders, especially with leaders of opposition parties which are in disrepute (such as over the flouting of European political standards). In that instance, caution rules for bilateral meetings could cause embarrassment. Meeting in the EU delegation’s office is regarded as more risky than, say, in a national institutional setting like the parliament; or, meeting with all party leaders in a round-table fashion might be preferred as a more neutral procedure.13 Sometimes, the reputation of a particular party might be such that, in diplomatic fashion, top leaders are avoided and ‘third rank contacts’ are preferred.14 At the highest level, however, political pressure has occasionally been exerted more openly. European Commissioners feel less restrained than Eurocrats working under them because they are largely political figures and more often than not have national political careers behind them. The previous Enlargement Commissioner Hans van den Broek visited Bratislava in June 1998 while Meeiar was still in power and only a few months before the crucial election in Slovakia – that was seen abroad as a test of democracy’s survival in that country. The visit was official involving, among other things, a 45-minute meeting with Meeiar as prime minister; but the highlight of the visit was a speech van den Broek gave on the second day at the invitation of the Civil Society Development Foundation. It was understood by the organisers of the meeting, which included NGO people from all over Slovakia as well as some politicians, that van den Broek would deliver a political message. He used this opportunity to emphasise in general terms the importance of civil society and human rights as central to the commitment to democracy, to warn that the forthcoming election would ‘be followed closely by Slovakia’s partners in the EU’ and to urge that ‘weaknesses’ in the protection of minority language rights be addressed. According to Pavol Demes who chaired the meeting, it was ‘one of those memorable events when the EU was not ambiguous’. Van den Broek then met at his own invitation with all parties including the democratically inclined opposition party leaders. On his departure, van den Broek commented rather bluntly on his visit that: ‘All members of the EU share fundamental values regarding democracy and the protection of minorities. We expect no different from those countries that wish to join the EU. I therefore regret democracy does not yet appear sufficiently deeply rooted in Slovakia.’15 Gunter Verheugen, van den Broek’s successor, has on a number of occasions warned against extremist parties in CEE candidate countries, usually in the context of elections. He did this both on grounds of democratic conditions but also for the sake of stability in these new party systems, seeing the rise of extremist parties as unsettling. For instance, in the case of Hungary, he expressed satisfaction at that country’s election result in April 2002 because


of the ‘rejection of extremist forces’ and in particular the failure of the radical nationalist Justice and Life Party (MIEP) to enter the parliament.16 At other times, Commission concern over a forthcoming election has been visible enough to create a pressure on the country in question. This was noticeable before the Romanian election in late 2000 when the (EU favoured) reformist coalition looked like losing and there was a growing threat from Tudor’s nationalist PRM. But there was also uncertainty over the PDSR, the main opposition party, because of its lack of enthusiasm about reform policies in government before 1996 as well as lingering doubts about its own transformation as the former Communist regime party. Early in 2002, the PDSR even went to the extent of consulting Verheugen for ‘clarification’ in the event of its coming to power, this being prompted by nervousness over the current crisis then between the EU and Austria after sanctions were imposed following Haider’s right-wing party joining the government in Vienna.17 In general, it was nationalist parties that most aroused anxiety and hostility in Brussels; although, occasionally, concern was also expressed about Eurosceptic parties getting close to power, as over the ODS’s chances in the Czech election of 2002 which was preceded by a public quarrel between Klaus and Verheugen over the former’s views on integration. It is difficult to estimate the actual effect of such public interventions. They were certainly deliberate attempts to influence domestic developments in the cause of enlargement; and the timing was carefully chosen as before elections. There was certainly an audience for impacting on, given public support for EU accession was generally high in the Central and Eastern European countries (CEECs) and as the EU enjoyed much prestige there and a credibility distinctly higher than that of national institutions. These interventions were a form of public or open influence. The other way adopted, as indicated by the Slovak example, was to work more discreetly behind the scenes in helping opposition parties that were moderate and democratically committed against governments that were nationalist inclined or otherwise were seen as offensive to European standards of democracy. This approach of advising and assisting such opposition forces was repeated a few years later in both Croatia and Serbia where, in the latter case, the EU conveyed to the public in the year before Milosevic was ousted the message that his continuation in power would preclude prosperity by way of eventual EU membership.18 This was accompanied by active support from NGOs in other European countries for the opposition to Milosevic in Serbia. It is possible to speak of a third direct effect from EU accession on party systems in CEE relating to cross-party consensus in favour of EU membership. Passing reference has been made to cases where some Eurosceptic parties have modified their positions apparently as an outcome of the accession dynamic; but this needs to be explored more carefully and best forms part of the discussion of the domestic arenas in candidate countries to which we now turn. They will now be assessed comparatively, looking at three dimensions of party development: the institutional; party system


dynamics; and, finally, problems of cross-national variation but also with some attention to intra-party differences over accession since this can sometimes influence individual party behaviour. First, the focus on parties as institutional actors highlights not only the question of consensus among those represented in parliament but also government/opposition relations as well as variations of opposition politics. As a whole, there has been a high degree of political consensus on the matter of EU accession in post-Communist countries; but what did this amount to and what effects did it have? One useful distinction that may be made is that between broad or principled support for European integration and the idea of EU membership on the one hand and support for the specific conditions of accession on the other.19 Thus, it is possible to argue that consensus is very much based on the first form of support while, nevertheless, political competition and the government/opposition dynamic concentrates more on the second form. The main exception comes with Eurosceptic parties in opposition taking a principled line against integration affairs or expressing a preference for a different kind of EU from that which is currently developing as over monetary and also political integration, including the concurrent debate over the European constitution. This focus on high EU political issues was often a proxy for taking the principled line. There was a certain inevitability about consensus on EU membership given the lack of a viable alternative in foreign policy direction. Moreover, there was a systemic dimension since EU membership was strictly conditional on meeting democratic standards. The reverse side of this linkage in external policy thinking was a priority attached to alternative ‘political addresses’, namely in the East, which suggested a lack of sympathy with democratisation and economic reform. Very few parties openly took this line but they included Milosevic’s Socialist Party of Serbia and for a time Meeiar’s HZDS in Slovakia both through special inter-governmental contacts (such as Milosevic’s with Lukashenka in Belarus) and dubious transnational partners. This dichotomy helped explain the strong and lasting consensus in candidate countries of CEE, for no self-respecting party wanted to be identified with being anti-democratic. Hence, the frequent occurrence of cross-party agreements or parliamentary votes on accession, such as in the Czech Republic ( January 2000) and Slovakia (February 2000) and Poland (July 2000 and November 2002). However, in Hungary (as in November 2002) the new opposition leader Orbán refused the prime minister’s request for an agreement over accession evidently because of the high level of tension in government/opposition relations since the election the previous spring. As a whole, though, the prevalence of parliamentary consensus over accession was consistent with strong public support for integration and accession. Nevertheless, opposition parties attacked governments on what may be called secondary matters notably for the way they handled negotiations and


also over actual terms agreed. This approach obviously became much more possible with the shift to concrete policy matters once negotiations commenced. In Bulgaria, for example, there was agreement on the principles of accession and the wider policy issues but differences between the main parties over the priorities of action with respect to certain issues. For instance, the Socialist Party stressed social questions more than freeing up the market with the centre-Right UDF’s priority being the other way round.20 In Poland, however, political debate became more emotive and polarised from the late 1990s against a background of declining public support for EU entry. Growing party-political diversification tending to modify the strong consensus was already apparent from the mid-1990s, with some parties adopting a position of ‘critical acceptance of the EU’; although it was only on the two extremes that explicitly anti-European parties in Poland were found.21 Soon after negotiations with Brussels began in early 1998, it was noticed, that this diversity of views was now able to find an outlet over particular issues for ‘as negotiations continue and as accession preparations develop, the more detailed implications of joining the EU will become clearer’.22 Parliamentary debates in Poland on accession could at times become heated and expose serious party-political differences.23 This heightening of domestic debate in Poland had one effect of putting the Government under more pressure in dealings with Brussels. With public opinion increasingly doubtful, Government leaders felt compelled to push more strongly for Poland’s interests and bargain hard for better terms, as notably happened when Prime Minister Miller went to the Copenhagen summit in December 2002.24 It could, therefore, be said that this shift with negotiations from the abstract to the concrete over integration actually allowed more scope for party-political differentiation over the ‘national interest’ but also sectoral interests. At the level of principle, European integration represented something of a ‘motherhood question’ in the context of post-Communist Europe where the ‘return to Europe’ acquired a convincing and prestigious aura that was virtually unbeatable. Only if parties made an issue of national sovereignty, as happened in a few states like Poland and the Baltic countries, or represented strong Catholic objections to ‘insidious’ liberal influences from the West, was there any approximation to an ideological objection to accession. But now the ‘national interest’ could be voiced if political opposition found any case for charging the government with failing to negotiate the best deals with Brussels; while sectoral interests found opportunities for their defence, notably agricultural ones, with the Polish Peasant Party (PSL) for instance consistently following this line during the negotiations whether it was in government or opposition. This tendency varied, however, across CEE states where the key variable was usually the general state of government/opposition relations. In Hungary, for instance, these turned abrasive after Fidesz lost power in the


spring of 2002 and Orbań used EU accession among other questions to follow an opposition line that was tough and conditional so far as accession was concerned but remained in favour of EU membership. In a series of statements in September and October 2002, Orbán outlined this approach by announcing that he would support the government over constitutional changes required for EU membership but only if it met his party’s demands which included ‘drastic and speedy’ wage increases, support for Hungary’s small and medium-size enterprises and greater subsidies for agricultural producers.25 More than a week later, Orbań clarified his position by saying that Hungary’s accession to the EU can be resolved ‘either well or badly, but staying out of the EU is not an option for the country’ for ‘I am tough, but pro-EU’.26 A few days afterwards Orbań continued by asserting that he advocated speedy accession but, as the EU had adopted a tough negotiating stance, Hungary should also resort to ‘as tough a negotiating position as possible’: ‘I never said that Hungary should not join the EU … [I] only wanted to point out that we must act to make sure that the competitiveness of the Hungarian economy improves by protecting farmers and small and medium-sized enterprises with low-interest credits and by defending farmland from the onslaught of foreign purchasers.’27 Clearly, Orbán was finessing his opposition role in a way that at times fudged the difference between the abstract (attachment to integration) and the concrete – a form of opposition tactics with a nationalist undertone. In some cases, opposition politics could go further with for instance Klaus’s ODS becoming distinctly harder in its approach towards the EU and accession after it went into opposition in 1997 where it has remained since. This period has coincided with that of Czech negotiations with Brussels over which the ODS’s line asserted and defended the Czech national interest, using patriotism as a theme and voicing sharp concern over the EU’s political integration. This became presented as a ‘Eurorealist’ concept of integration which argued that national and sectoral self-interests lay behind the process of EU enlargement.28 But Government/Opposition dynamics was not the same in every country seeking EU entry. In Slovakia, for example, Meeiar’s HZDS eventually softened its opposition line towards EU accession after losing power in 1998. This had to do not only with the start of negotiations in early 2000, requiring the HZDS to move from pure rhetoric to the subject matter of the 30 EU chapters, but also Slovak national credibility following Meeiar’s worsening relations with the EU while still in government. The Dzurinda Government now had the initiative over relations with the EU, which improved markedly, while the Government pushed ahead determinedly to catch up in accession. This put the HZDS on the defensive and Meeiar made repeated statements during the 1998–2002 legislature to the effect that his party was fully committed to Slovakia’s membership of the EU. This softer line in opposition continued even more after Meeiar’s further defeat (and substantial loss of


votes) in the 2002 election. This could be seen as a case of a major political party in a candidate country being driven along by accession together with more adverse domestic pressures. In general, one could say that the government/opposition dynamic almost inevitably embraced EU accession once the policy implications or consequences of this became more evident and different interests were challenged. Arguments from opposition politicians that the governments of the day were not defending their countries to the best effect were easy to make when negotiations with the EU were essentially asymmetrical with very limited scope for changing the EU legislative agenda. Furthermore, every few years in each country the logic of electoral politics surfaced – entailing parties underlining their differences – and this was not a comfortable fit with the consensual logic of EU accession. No doubt for this reason, EU officials tended to feel troubled when national elections in candidate countries were on the horizon. Second, turning to party system dynamics, attention focusses on party development outside the institutions. Bearing in mind that parties are not necessarily unitary actors, depending on the state of their internal discipline, it follows that their approach to issues like the EU may at the extraparliamentary level be less constrained by the official business of negotiations with Brussels. Hence, they are more likely there to voice criticism and dissent over accession than their representatives holding down government responsibility; while opposition parties are clearly freer to pursue confrontation anyway if they so choose. It should be remembered that the countries of CEE have featured more widespread Euroscepticism in their party systems than those in Western Europe though usually of the soft than the hard variety.29 While some Eurosceptic parties in the former have been main parties in their countries, even at times in government, there have been many more Eurosceptic parties without parliamentary representation especially on the extremes. Given the rigours of accession business, but also the continuing distress caused by economic transformation in many of these countries, it follows that there was a potential for politicisation. On the other hand, the publics in these candidate countries were not as a whole well-informed about the EU. This could either produce apathy or resignation or it could produce uninformed apprehension. We take this question of party system dynamics further by considering the question of cleavages, the role of Eurosceptic parties and then the problem of elite/mass linkages. The question of cleavages is raised mainly to test a different angle on EU accession and domestic politics, although it is clear from the prevalence of consensus that this may be almost irrelevant. Moreover, party-political differences in candidate countries over accession were rarely of the cleavage order in the sense of societal or culturally based contrast. The main examples of anti-European (as distinct from soft Eurosceptic) parties in CEE were in Poland (Self-Defence and The League of Polish Families, the latter linked to


fundamental Catholic objections to integration) and in the Czech Republic (the Communist KSEM) as well as right-wing nationalist parties like the Justice and Life Party (MIEP) in Hungary, the Greater Romania Party (PRM) in Romania and the Slovak National Party (SNS) in Slovakia. These certainly played a ‘nuisance’ role for accession; but, except momentarily with the PRM, they did not promise a bright political future.30 If anything, most of them showed signs under pressure of accession of bending to the integration wind. For instance, there was nothing really comparable to the Left/Right antagonism and polarisation that had appeared over integration in some of the original member states like the Federal Republic of Germany and especially postwar Italy (which was particularly noted for international politics deeply dividing that country) and, during later enlargements, such as in the UK and Greece. This was simply because the alternative to integration was not convincing and really non-existent for CEE. This involved either taking up a not very viable non-aligned position or turning back to links with the East. At the same time, it could be said that the issue of EU accession related to or overlayed the main cleavages that tended to predominate in postCommunist countries. These were the regime legacy cleavage, with its implications for democratisation; the socio-economic cleavage now, surfacing more, that was comparable to the predominant cleavage in West European politics; and, cultural cleavages which are cross-nationally quite variable like the ethnic and religious. At the same time, it has to be noted that these cleavages possessed nothing like the ‘frozen’ quality that was for long attributed to party systems in Western Europe.31 Communist rule had in its four decades too deep a disrupting effect on such continuities; and, in any case, party development since 1989 took a long time to settle down. It is noticeable that these main sets of cleavages were almost equivalent to the three transformations that had been taking place during regime change since 1989 – namely, the political (with democratisation), the economic (with marketisation) and the cultural (with nation-building, although the religious which was not in any case very strong did not fit well here). As such, the question of EU accession fitted rather well with each although in a special kind of way. It obviously related to democratisation for the EU visibly demonstrated through its own conditionality that it was on the side of moving on from the authoritarian past; it was also a forceful proponent of economic reforms and marketisation (again one of the Copenhagen conditions); while nation-building, though not a direct concern of the EU, was affected by its strong insistence on ethnic minority rights and citizenship for all. In other words, the EU was quite evidently allied with the ‘cosmopolitan’ rather than ‘traditional’ forces in these countries. This put the pro- EU forces in the virtuous position of speaking for the future where the past was not credible, again emphasising the lack of convincing alternative among the


anti-EU opposition. Few parties were prepared to risk their fortunes by being labelled as anti-democratic, for instance. On the other hand, the EU could be vulnerable where traditional attitudes were strong or where cleavages were buttressed by popular discontent. There was a strong correlation between support for (or opposition to) economic reform and support for (or opposition to) EU membership.32 The partial identification of the economic ‘winners’ with EU-inspired change was one sign of discontent linking with the accession question. Furthermore, ethnic politics could in some countries make it difficult to conform with European standards, although in other accession states like Poland and the Czech Republic this was not a serious problem. In general, this usually unspoken association between the EU and the ‘cosmopolitan’ in candidate states implied a sort of cleavage function indicating for instance that support for EU membership was likely to be much stronger in urban than rural areas. However, accession was not presented from above in such stark terms by the political elites because of the very consensus behind the drive to accede to the EU (and here rivalry between the various candidate states reinforced that tendency). But how much did this work when parties operated more as societal than as institutional actors? There was indeed more party-political diversity over European integration and accession outside national parliaments than within them. In one sense, this simply reflected the fact that many Eurosceptic parties were small or on the extremes, that is, too small in popular support to surmount parliamentary thresholds. To that extent, they were not popular forces although they nonetheless could volubly express viewpoints that departed from the consensus over the EU. And, yet there were a significant number of larger parties in CEECs that presented a Eurosceptic interpretation. Kopecky and Mudde establish a congruence between party families in CEE and positions on Europe (which in turn should make for a meaningful debate at the level of European transnational parties). Thus, centre-Left parties are cross-nationally supportive of the ideas of European integration as are also left-inclined liberals; while all extreme Right parties and also unreformed or hardline Communist parties take the opposite position. However, conservative liberal parties and Christian Democratic ones while supportive of European integration ideas are – illustrating the distinction between positions on integration in principle and the EU in particular – varied in their positions on support for the EU with, for example, the Czech Christian Democrats (KDU-ESL) more positive about the EU than the Slovak ones (KDH). The one party family that does not fit this scheme for categorising parties are the agrarians, but then their political base is an economic interest rather than an ideology.33 This leads us to consider the motivation behind Eurosceptic parties. From Kopecky and Mudde’s analysis, it would appear that ideology is the predominant factor in determining their positions. Some parties’ stands on


integration and the EU were distinctly ideological. In the Czech Republic, for instance, this was true of both the Communist KSEM – with its traditional ideological reservations about capitalist market economies – but also the centre-Right ODS though for a different reason. Insofar as the latter’s position on EU accession was determined by Václav Klaus, who has held rather distinctive ideas about the EU, then it could be termed ideological; although in reality it was rather divided on the issue. Clearly, anti-European views on the extreme Right were driven by nationalism if not in some cases ethnic hostility; but one should also recall that extremist parties were inevitably not part of the establishment consensus on their countries’ joining the EuroAtlantic organisations. Nevertheless, ideology can only rarely be considered as a sole or exclusive factor in party behaviour. Other determinants like political roles, electoralism or populism and sectoral interests are usually also important in explaining this. Political roles in terms of being in government or opposition have not been as decisive as they might be. This must be related again to the broad cross-party consensus in CEE parliaments on EU accession. But, beyond that, different national contexts have played some part, for as noted above the Czech ODS and the Slovak HZDS moved in opposite directions when they lost power and went into opposition. However, parties without parliamentary representation were free from elite consensus constraints if they chose to make a cause of their Euroscepticism. Tendencies in public opinion have been influential here. Electoralist or populist motivation behind Euroscepticism is an obvious consideration. It is, however, one perhaps more applicable to certain EU member states where opinion trends have been very divided or unenthusiastic about integration (as in the UK) or disillusioned following accession (as in Sweden and to some extent Austria). There were also sometimes cultural or national identity influences present in party systems, such as Nordic attachment in the Scandinavian member states. However, these considerations – especially the electoralist – do not easily apply to CEECs where public support has remained consistently high. The main potential source of populism in these CEECs countries has been nationalism, but it has been restrained by the EU’s popularity and accession pressures. Otherwise, it has been tactically based populism with opposition parties using the EU question to exploit government unpopularity among the public as in some of Orbań’s statements in opposition from 2002, such as on the unpopular Benes Decrees, ‘losing’ national sovereignty to the EU and the Hungarian Status Law about Hungarian minorities in other European countries. One may also include what may be called primadonna populism where individual party leaders choose in a showmanlike way to take a Eurosceptic course. Tudor fits this description quite well in Romania, although his populism changed course when he responded to the EU’s continuing high popularity there and began to adopt a cosmetic Europeanism


in his political appeal. Another case would be in Poland with Lepper whose sometimes outrageous anti-EU rhetoric was more individualistic than ideological although there is also a link between his party, Self-Defence, and the interests of small farmers.34 It is not surprising that sectoral interests have come more to the fore in party politics once negotiations with Brussels produced the shift to concrete issues and successive EU chapters became highlighted. To some extent, this motivation behind Euroscepticism overlaps with the electoralist or populist. That is, different parties have sought to exploit but also sometimes mollify rising sectoral concerns over the consequences of membership. Sometimes, an opposition party claimed that the government had not achieved the best deal for certain sectors, such Orbán’s speaking of behalf of farmers and small and medium-sized businesses. However, a difference should be drawn between parties that draw their mass appeal from a variety of sectors and those, like notably agrarian parties – which are much more common in CEE than in Western Europe – whose appeal is actually sector-based. The Polish Peasant Party (PSL), while generally favourable to EU accession among its elite, has at times taken a hard line over the negotiations and has in small-holding peasants a rather Eurosceptic-inclined electorate concerned about the future.35 This leads straight to the question of elite/mass linkages. This has some systemic importance since, as already mentioned, the gap between political elites and the mass public has remained wide and marked with mistrust in post-Communist new democracies. Such a problem creates difficulties for party system consolidation. While EU accession was not at the root of this problem, some feared that this might actually increase the gap and hence create additional potential for public disillusionment with the political elites,36 or perhaps come to the fore once membership has taken place. The reasons given usually revolve around accession business being elitist in nature with the terms of membership dictated ‘from above’ by Brussels and with little time for popular consultation (although eventually that came at the end with the referenda in these countries). In fact, there has been significant cross-national variation which makes generalising about EU accession difficult. Moreover, on a question like EU membership which has implications for virtually all policy areas, there is a considerable potential for differences to emerge – such as, for example, with parties that appeal to different sectors of interest or opinion. As Kopecky and Mudde show, there are several cases in East-Central Europe of where elite consensus and public inclinations do not match comfortably. For instance, in Hungary there has been a particularly pro-EU public although over time the political elite has become relatively less pro-EU mainly due to Fidesz’s tough line in opposition; while Poland has had a fairly strong elite consensus around the EU although the public has become more critical of the EU than in other East-Central Europe (ECE) states.37 In Slovakia, the country’s problem with Brussels (during Meeiar’s third government of 1994–98) was


really one of elite problems in conducting EU affairs for the public there has not offered much scope for Eurosceptic exploitation outside extremist circles such as of the Slovak National Party (SNS). If anything, Meeiar’s electoral defeat in 1998 was to a significant degree explained by public concern over the course his government was taking the country in external relations. This could be seen therefore as a case of mass concerns correcting the mistakes of a political elite through the democratic mechanism of the ballot box. One other tendency has been for political parties, which have adopted or flirted with Euroscepticism, to take note of persistent public trends of high support for EU membership. The more negotiations have advanced and created a growing probability of actual membership, then such parties have often begun to recognise the reality of integration. One might say, therefore, that the changing political environment as it impacts on national political arenas has affected the gap between elites and masses. It is therefore too simplistic to speak of parties as behaving over accession in a way damaging to elite/mass relations. That does of course not mean that publics continue to perceive such a gap probably as a result of the domestic factors which have been the cause of it. Finally, by way of summary, we turn thirdly to the question of cross-national variation in party systems and the EU and, more particularly, to cross-party variation within countries as well as internal-party variation – to continue the discussion about different party levels. It is possible to identify some countries as more Eurosceptic than others judging by the importance in them of Eurosceptic parties as well as by trends of public opinion, especially insofar as the latter may express some cultural reservations about integration. On this count, the Czech Republic is usually – in East-Central Europe, at least – considered to be the most Eurosceptic of the accession countries,38 with various key parties in the Eurosceptic camp, an evident concern about equal treatment as an EU partner state and the impact of a number of historical issues like the Benes Decrees that tended to alienate public opinion. However, image factors do colour CEE country reputations at the European level. It goes without saying that the prominence of Václav Klaus as an arch Eurosceptic (maintaining this public line also since his elevation to the Czech Presidency in 2003) has enhanced the Czech Republic’s reputation as a Eurosceptic country. In truth, all these countries have their own forms of within-country variation on EU affairs so there is limited value in generalisations of this kind. This variation may be briefly pursued in two ways. First, in countries where party alignments on integration and accession are not uniformly consensual or where they evidence some ambiguity (which is in fact the most common characteristic of Eurosceptic parties), then we may expect this to affect political competition with some potential for arousing debate or controversy. In Poland, parties have ranged from the clearly pro-European through those representing ‘critical acceptance of the EU’ to those on the


extremes which are explicitly anti-European.39 Two qualifying points need to be made: there is also variety within these groups as to particular party reasons for positions adopted (which may be ideological, interest-linked or related to particular issues or concerns); and, account has to be taken of change over time, an obvious point really given the onset, progress and the bite of negotiations. In Poland’s case, the party scene has diversified on EU affairs since the mid-1990s and all the more since negotiations commenced in 1998. This helps, together with decreasing public support for accession, to explain why debate and controversy has had a sharper edge in Poland than in other CEE candidate states over the past half-decade. Similarly, political competition in Hungary in the past few years has affected accession business though not because of any underlying public doubts about future EU membership. Second, variation within countries may be extended to internal party matters. This can have different effects, for it may both restrain party leadership behaviour out of a concern for party unity or it may put leaders under pressure from party bases. A linked matter is territorial where varying economic structures across the country, with consequently different particular concerns over the impact of EU legislation, may affect individual party behaviour according to local electoral strengths and prospects. Most parties in Poland have, despite their different ideological affiliations, to compete for the votes of small-town rural voters as well as in some areas church-going traditionalists and people, especially older ones, who remain hostile to Germany and through association to the EU.40 Parties of the Left usually contain radical elements that are unsympathetic with integration and, as in the case of the Czech ruling party (ESSD), that balance a largely pro-EU leadership with a fairly Eurosceptic electorate (though less so among this particular party’s membership).41 Internal-party differentiation is particularly evident in the Czech Republic, where not only is there a pro-EU minority within the KSEM – that helps to explain some of its laborious ambiguities over accession – but the Eurosceptic-labelled ODS has an electorate that is in fact more pro-EU than that of the ESSD. The ODS also contains a significant, albeit muted, pro-EU element in the leadership; but its foreign policy line has been mainly determined by Klaus and Jan Zahradil, former ODS international secretary and now first deputy chairman. The latter is known as the author of the 2001 Manifesto of Czech Eurorealism which expressed opposition to any further erosion of national sovereignty and voiced the possibility of not joining the EU.42 As Zahradil admitted, this manifesto proved useful as ‘it provoked debate at home and abroad’ and helped his own profile to become ‘sharper’ in European politics which was useful for his ambitions to enter the European Parliament.43 In other words, whatever viewpoints on integration there may be among political elites, the approach of EU accession provided opportunities for political career advancement.


In conclusion, there has developed during the accession period crossnational variation in opposition styles as well as in government/opposition dynamics and political competition concerning EU affairs. To some extent, party development has in this way reflected different national concerns and mentalities just as cross-nationally variable patterns of public support have impacted on political choice or tactics. In a sense, all this provides evidence of politicisation from integration where a crucial turning-point was the shift to negotiations which opened up scope for more party-political differentiation over national prospects inside the EU notwithstanding continued consensus over EU membership. It is difficult, therefore, to agree with the proposition that somehow integration has depoliticised or reduced competition between parties. Parties in post-Communist countries have as a whole performed reasonably as intermediary actors in managing the accessions of their countries, although there has sometimes been a mismatch between party elite positions on the EU and the inclinations of party supporters or the public as a whole. Furthermore, in their capacity as multiple linkages, parties in CEE have sometimes encountered divergences between their different levels of activity; but that may be seen as a normal feature of democratic party life. At the same time, various Europeanisation effects have been already visible before EU membership commenced. Most of all, this was evident in the parties’ growing involvement in EU policy concerns focussed on the EU’s successive negotiating chapters, the overall outcome of which will be a considerable Europeanisation of policy-making and content in these new member states. Party elites have more and more come to make their political calculations with the EU in mind, particularly once accession came to be seen as close at hand; and, transnational perspectives are more evident in party outlooks but this is quite party-variable. But there have so far been limits to the deeper effects of such change for the real impact on elite/mass links remains to be seen once membership has occurred.

5.3 Political parties as transnational actors in the accession process The most institutionalised form of party Europeanisation has come from transnational party cooperation (TPC), whereby parties from accession countries joined their respective European organisations well ahead of their countries’ membership of the EU. While this has not allowed them any major intermediary role between European and national levels, it has nevertheless been relevant with respect to Europeanising and democratising pressures with consequences for domestic politics. From the early days of post-Communist democratisation transnational party links were opened up between Western and Eastern Europe and, in some cases like Poland and Hungary, discreet and mainly personal contacts developed in the last years of Communist rule. These links very quickly


responded to the general demand for political training and expertise transference that marked official and non-official East/West relations in these first years. Subsequently, transnational party links became part of the gradual move towards the European integration of these still fragile new democracies so that, from the mid-1990s, these began to be institutionalised with associate membership of parties from CEECs in the transnational organisations, whether the traditional party internationals or the EU-based transnational parties. From the later 1990s, these organisations increasingly were used by political elites in CEE as a networking mechanism for furthering their countries’ accession chances. Transnational party cooperation has traditionally taken various forms in organising national parties of the same ideological tendency. Most visible are the transnational party groups which play a dominant role in the procedural life of the European Parliament (EP). These are related as parliamentary parties to their respective European party federations, the most important three being the Party of European Socialists (PES) – successor to the previous Confederation of Socialist and Social Democratic Parties of the EC, the centreright European People’s Party (EPP) and the European Liberal, Democrat and Reform Party (ELDR). There are similar federations for some smaller forces like the European Federation of Green Parties (EFGP), but some minor groups in the EP do not possess such extra-parliamentary structures. In addition, the party internationals (Socialist, Liberal and Christian Democratic) have played a parallel and sometimes overlapping role in European transnational activity, although they have memberships from across the world. TPC activity, existing since the inception of European integration, has over time acquired more political influence. This is essentially as a dependent variable benefitting from the EP’s enhanced constitutional status as a result of successive integration treaties. At the same time, the party federations have autonomously asserted themselves such as in attempting to influence policy decisions at the European Council by holding prior summits of party leaders. But there have always been problems in defining a European party system within the complex institutional structure of the EU system. The EP, albeit now more of a recognisable parliamentary institution, is still one without a viable relationship with executive power in the EU which is, in any case, fragmented. Moreover, the member parties of the TPC organisations remain embedded in national politics however much they become committed to the cause of integration. Nevertheless, as a form of transnational networking, TPC has intensified and acquired ever more political influence not least as senior party politicians (some of them in government leadership) are now more involved and there has emerged a European multiparty elite which is usually well linked with national party structures. It is this that has provided an important opening for party elites in post-Communist democracies. Transnational party cooperation offers therefore a pertinent mechanism for estimating the dynamic of direct Europeanisation effects on national


parties within the context of the accession process. It provides a special channel for European-level activity by, but also for European pressures on, political parties from accession countries as well as member states. As an avowedly political form of transnational networking, TPC has the further advantage of exemplifying informal or non-official integration, thereby incorporating virtually all principal parties from these countries whether in government or opposition. This is relevant since many parties, including Eurosceptical ones, have remained outside national office and hence the handling of membership negotiations. In other words, it is through TPC that political parties from CEECs relate qua parties to the EU system of governance, even though parties play a more distant part in this compared with national systems. Altogether, a distinction may be drawn between this activity’s relatively weak constitutional position (formal integration) and its significant political networking capacity (informal cooperation). But this very distinction is particularly relevant for political parties and their elites from the accession countries. Coming from states not yet members of the EU and therefore not yet participating directly in its main institutions, they may gain status in TPC organisations in advance of actual accession. Accordingly, CEE party elites have tended to lend TPC a somewhat greater importance than do party elites from EU member states. It has been in the latter half of the 1990s onwards, with EU membership actively sought and negotiations underway, that TPC has increasingly been regarded and utilised as a channel for furthering accession chances as well as party-political networking. For CEE party leaders and officials, TPC activity has given them relatively easy access – on the basis of ideological fraternity – to top politicians in EU member states, some of them holding influential positions in government. Even political bonds established with opposition politicians might become useful in the event of their elevation to national office, hence with some possible control over EU enlargement decisions. This networking facility of TPC for higher political motives has also been recognised by high government officials in CEE candidate states who are more constrained by official procedures and appreciate the freedom that party contacts allow. In short, TPC has provided an effective channel for parties in these countries to perform as intermediary actors between the European and national levels. It follows that TPC had quite some potential for influencing the attitudes, behaviour and decisions of parties in the new post-Communist democracies. We explore this now with reference to three types of influence: the democratising; the ideological; and, the integrative. The democratising influence: a number of different influences may be identified under this heading. There is the formal vetting procedure that focusses in particular on the democratic commitment of prospective member parties. This procedure is quite thorough and takes time. It may be seen as


complementary to the democratic conditionality operated by the EU at the governmental level of candidate states. Once admission is granted, democratic conditionality although no longer applied as a procedure can be reactivated in the case of new members that in one way or other transgress European democratic standards. This has in practice been applied by the EPP to a handful of parties of the Right who have, perhaps for reasons of domestic populism, played with nationalist ideas. New member parties then become generally involved in different ways in the transnational organisation’s activities, including policy discussion forums, general and business meetings and a range of activities alongside or in conjunction with other member parties, including of a bilateral kind. There has been one practical constraint on this involvement by CEE elites, namely the cost of travelling to and attending meetings say in Brussels where accommodation costs are high. The then international secretary of the Czech Social Democrats (ESSD) noted that she travelled by overnight bus to Brussels from Prague to attend Bureau meetings of the Socialist International (SI) and Party of European Socialists (PES) to save on party costs (air flight, one hotel night) and referred to the very high cost of hotels in Brussels.44 Unlike government officials from CEE states, party officials are inhibited by the usually tight state of their party finances. Although the common justification for all these activities is basically ideological, in various ways they have had some reinforcing effect on the democratic commitment of the new member parties from CEE, at least in terms of elite attitudes and behaviour. Those most directly and regularly involved in these activities are party international secretaries and international office staff, sometimes top party leaders time allowing, policy experts according to the policy areas under discussion and also, now and then, selected party activists such as for training programmes (e.g. some programmes of the British Westminster Foundation have included weekly visits to the UK for learning about local government if not observation of local elections). The Socialist International (SI) was in the forefront of advancing democratic vetting compared with the other transnational organisations. Furthermore, the Socialists tended to be that much stricter than the other federations in their conditionality. According to the then chairman and secretary-general of the SI’s European Forum for Democracy and Solidarity, accepting basic values like those of democracy, freedom of speech, freedom of religion and of the media was not enough for behavioural patterns were also considered important. These were usually tested through regular contacts with aspiring member parties and their leaders. At the same time, evidence was collected on the state of internal party life while a variety of sources was used for investigating the attitudes of key party figures, such as reports by Forum personnel, by SI member parties which had special contacts with the candidate party in question and even embassy reports. How they ‘handle their past’, that is,


their role during and subsequent attitude towards the Communist regime – a factor that applied especially to parties interested in joining the SI – was given some emphasis.45 The SI performed this vetting role for the PES for it was necessary to join the former before applying for membership in the latter. Subsequently, the other main European parties – the EPP and the ELDR – adopted similar vetting procedures for establishing the democratic qualities of parties from the new post-Communist democracies interested in joining their organisations. While the main problem on the centre-Right was to draw a line against nationalist forces claiming to be conservative or even liberal, the main problem on the Left – especially in the mid-1990s – was how to deal with former Communist regime parties that were pressing for membership in the SI. In several cases, parties from CEE have faced an elaborate vetting process before acceptance into the SI. Some former regime parties have taken much longer than others due to doubts about their democratic credentials on the part of some (more centrist-minded) member parties from EU states – this being the case with the Bulgarian Socialist Party – or, with the Romanian PSD whose candidacy was in any case blocked by a rival Romanian party that was already in the SI. Trying to assess Communist regime legacies ran into problems of political culture that were not easily resolved as they affected also parties other than those ruling in the former regime . They were, for instance, evident in the one example of a major traditional Social Democratic party from CEE, namely the ESSD from the Czech Republic, which contained a significant number of former Communists among its membership. Furthermore, according to its international secretary in the mid-1990s, the party suffered from internal tensions between those who had gone into exile and those who remained in the country during the Communist period as well as between old members who had conservative ideas and younger ones who had been involved in dissident activity.46 In the first years especially, the lack of democratic experience showed when CEE party elites engaged with SI personnel. At heart, this was a problem of political mentality including at this early stage among top leaders. As the secretary-general of the European Forum remarked, the ESSD chairman Zeman had recognised political skills like his speaking ability but had been ‘educated in a Communist country, with all the influences of the Communist ideology and system’.47 This special problem of a cultural divide between East and West in European party politics (remarked on by transnational actor interview respondents in the mid-1990s) has however diminished somewhat with time and especially generational turnover. As an official from the European Liberals commented more than a decade after the end of the Communist regimes, ten years ‘is a long time’ and ‘people no longer say “when I was in gaol”; rather, “last week I was in the USA.” ’48 In other words, the cohort of dissidents has begun to be replaced – at least in transnational party


activity – by younger party elites who give a priority to transatlantic networking. These younger elites are generally more at ease with routine democratic procedures in politics including those at the EU level. Time has certainly helped in strengthening democratising influences once member parties from CEE participated and became active in the transnational European parties. Once EU membership occurred in May 2004, parties from new member states became full members both of the European party federations and their groups in the EP so that their formal integration was therefore completed. The ideological influence: this question is more straightforward and is easier to establish, at least in terms of party programmes in CEECs reflecting ideas and policy preferences from the transnational European parties – or not as the case may be. For the European Left, initially the SI, there were not the problems of ideological matching with possible partners in the new democracies of CEE that plagued the Liberals and the centre-Right European People’s Party. After the fall of Communism it was in many cases difficult for European Liberals in particular to identify which parties were really their equivalents in postCommunist countries, all the more as Liberal forces were generally weak in CEE while the label ‘Liberal’ was sometimes abused. At this stage, the fluidity of party identities there was especially problematic for the Right and some parties were difficult to type as they were in effect personal vehicles for political figures. For the EPP and ELDR, the confusion of party names without transnational associations and the risk of nationalist links on the part of some aspiring candidate parties made choosing a partner in CEECs open sometimes to embarrassing mistakes. Apart from the problem of how to respond to the interest of former regime parties in joining the SI, there was no real difficulty in identifying parties of the Left if only because they tended to use the familar nomenclature, although in some countries a variety of parties with similar labels could cause a problem of choice, as was for a time the case in Romania. In that event, the PES has usually pressed for merger between smaller parties of the Left and acted as a sponsor and intermediary for this purpose. It clearly followed that adopting a centre-Left or Social Democratic programme was a sine qua non for serious consideration in the Left transnational organisations. Ex-Communist parties already had their own domestic reasons to move down this programmatic path in line with democratic transition and the need to adjust accordingly. Thus, admission to the SI and later the PES tended to confirm or reinforce this choice. Invariably, the key policy principles here were economic reform and European integration (seen among other things as proof of adherence to Western or European values) although some parties offered a milder version of the former. Sometimes, however, programmatic caution on these issues could reflect a lack of reform commitment within a party or also internal divisions over strategy. Thus, the


Bulgarian Socialist Party’s programme in the later 1990s advocated as the central objective of economic reform a social market economy where economic efficiency would be balanced by social and economic security. It was conceived of as a mixed economy where private and state forms of ownership were treated equally. Its economic policy section pledged a gradual transition to a market economy in which determinedly ‘no one would suffer’ and was strongly opposed to the kind of shock therapy imposed in Poland on grounds of ‘Bulgarian specificities’ and costliness.49 It was clear that the PES represented and pushed for the Social Democratic model rather than one more leftist. Joining that transnational organisation involved subscribing visibly to its own programme and, as was normally expected, promoting this in European elections – the first of which for CEE occurred in June 2004 – if not voluntarily in national elections too. Then, there is the common practice especially among European Socialists in the SI and PES of conducting policy discussions on specific themes. Parties of the Left in CEE have to varying degrees, depending on their own status within these transnational organisations, been involved in such events since the mid-1990s. So, altogether, these parties have been subject to much European-level policy exposure and pressure for over a decade or the best part of a decade. In most cases, their strong motivation to belong to and play an active part in TPC has underscored their readiness to conform to West European Social Democratic values. The same has been broadly true of the EPP and ELDR with respect to centre-Right and Liberal values during the accession period. One interesting phenomenon is the response to TPC of ethnic parties in CEE. They have tended to place much importance on their transnational contacts as a significant support factor and, to that end, have adapted or retooled themselves ideologically in joining TPC organisations. That is, for transnational purposes, they have placed the Left/Right dimension above the ethnic cleavage which is important in the domestic politics of some of these countries. This is true, for instance, of the Slovak Hungarian Coalition (SMK) which as an associate member of the EPP and EDU has come to redefine itself more and more as a centre-Right force. Its interest in transnational links developed originally as a defence mechanism in the mid-1990s against the hostility of the then Meeiar Government towards the Hungarian minority. As the international secretary of the Hungarian Christian Democrats (MKDH), one of its original three component parties, put it in late 1995, transnational party linkages were of utmost importance to us, as we represent not only Christian Democratic values in this country but also the special interest of the Hungarian minority. There are quite intense tensions in Slovakia concerning the national question. One of the ruling parties in the government is the Slovak National Party, which attacks the Hungarian


minority every day. For this reason, international contacts are very important for us, as we feel the support, the moral support of the Christian Democratic parties of Western Europe, the EUCD, which has held a lot of conferences, of meetings, dealing with the minority problem in Europe, and has adopted several resolutions. One of these meetings was held in Bratislava. And, in this way, we can use these contacts when representing the interests of the minority at the international level, which has a positive attitude towards national minorities’.50 However, since Meeiar’s defeat in 1998, the SMK has become somewhat more relaxed about the ethnic divide in Slovakia – all the more due to being in government since then – and it has seen advantages in the centre-Right identity, also for attracting non-Hungarian voters there in the future. In broad terms, ethnic parties’ polar opposite position to that of nationalist parties is determined by the EU and its associated organisations, including TPC, being viewed as an influential and welcome international protector for their minority rights. Sometimes, particular national conditions have played a part in ideological choice at the transnational level. The Movement for Rights and Freedoms (DPS) in Bulgaria is a largely Turkish party. It made a decisive shift from an ethnic party to a liberal party for two reasons: because that would ‘enlarge our political base and to fight our place in the normal European political spectrum’; and, because liberal ideas were seen as emphasising the freedom and rights of minorities and ‘we think that accession to the EU will help to guarantee human rights’.51 This choice was also influenced by memories of the past, for SI membership was not seriously considered because of the Communist regime’s attitude to the Turkish minority – ‘our people don’t like Communists and Socialists’.52 There are, however, not only advantages from but also some limitations to the importance of TPC that should be mentioned in this respect. Very broadly, the main transnational organisations provide in a unique way a European institutional framework for expressing the traditional European party families in different real ways, whether programmatically or by means of parliamentary activity. Parties from the same ideological provenance have a fairly regular opportunity to measure themselves against each other. Their interactions can have influential effects on elite socialisation, especially significant for parties coming from still relatively new democracies which are still learning the democratic game and acquiring expertise (including policy expertise in the dense field of European integration and its many areas of policy concern) and seeking other advantages from such transfer networks. On the other hand, one should remember that TPC is not a full-time business, is far less demanding than national party activity and does not require the same degree of policy consequentiality necessary at the national level where parties seek governmental responsibility. One should furthermore


bear in mind that there are recognisable barriers to the impact of TPC whether over ideological impact, policy formulation or other forms of transnational activity. This has to do with the fact that the European parties operate mainly through party leaders and national organisations, above all their international secretariats, and only to a limited extent involve national parties in a wider sense. The exceptions are when groups of activists are engaged in mutual visits or training programmes or in the now growing habit of bilateral exchanges between individual parties from the former two parts of Europe, including at the level of regional and local branch organisations – a habit modelled on the postwar European pattern of town twinning. Integrative Influence: there are two levels where European integration may have an impact on political parties in accession states – the indirect (or institutional) and the direct (or partisan). The first refers to such parties holding national office especially during membership negotiations when relevant ministers are required to immerse themselves in the massive detail of European legislation; while opposition parties have to upgrade their competence in EU affairs to cope effectively with parliamentary work in this area. For the moment, it may be noted that the policy consequences, especially intermediate and long-term, from adopting and implementing European legislation could in some respects be far-reaching for socio-economic development in countries that successfully negotiate membership of the EU. This may well in the course of time have significant effects on attitudes and expectations of at least some sectors of the public and, therefore, in turn on the voting prospects of political parties in new member states. Meanwhile, EU membership of course also imposes constraints on policy choice of parties in government, whether of the Left or the Right. To some extent, the answer about the direct integrative influence overlaps with the preceding discussion of the ideological with respect to European policy programmes and their influence on CEE parties, not to mention the limitations on TPC’s importance. But, two further points may be made here. First, there is a strong link between parties’ European policies (hence, their acceptance or criticism of European integration) and their success in pursuing transnational party-political links and integration in these transnational organisations. Evidence shows that basic reservations about the first hamper the second – hardly surprising since strong adherence to the precepts of European integration is a precondition for membership in the main European parties as well as a key factor governing effective participation in them. The problems encountered by the basically Eurosceptical British Conservatives serve as a salutary illustration of this problem, although new developments in TPC have opened up possibilities for groupings of Eurosceptical parties outside the principal transnational formations, as evident after the June 2004 European elections. Because of the more common presence of Eurosceptic parties in CEE compared with Western Europe,


Euroscepticism is likely to have a greater presence at the transnational party level following EU enlargement in 2004. Second, it is possible to detect party-political reservations about European integration in relation to the other half of Euro-Atlantic integration, namely membership of North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO). This is because EU accession is something of a ‘motherhood question’ in view of the generally high prestige of the EU in CEE as well as its general popularity among the national public there. NATO has usually been less popular, as shown continuously in opinion survey results over a long period, particularly so during times when NATO or the USA has been involved in war in Europe, namely in Kosovo in 1999 and Iraq in 2003. NATO is a more emotive issue and one that draws, paradoxically, on a legacy from the Communist era when NATO represented the international enemy and therefore a potential threat. Given the strong policy-level linkage between accession to the EU and to NATO, as indicated in the term ‘Euro-Atlantic integration’, it follows that reservations or even hostility to the one (i.e. NATO) can reflect hidden opposition to the other. The vast majority of political parties in CEE have subscribed to this linkage in a positive way; but some exceptions are apparent. On the Left, the Bulgarian Socialist Party again stands out as an interesting case for, while supporting EU accession unconditionally, it maintained an anti-NATO stance during the 1990s and emphasised the need for friendly relations with Russia.53 This fitted with this party’s difficulties over some areas of European policy. In conclusion, this threefold influence of TPC on political parties in the accession countries of CEE has been substantial although probably not so deep given the limitations on the importance of this kind of activity. As a result, in at least the case of the main parties they have had to strengthen their own democratic modes of practice, define more clearly their own identities in Left/Right terms and confirm or strengthen their commitment to European integration. In particular, the vetting procedures of the European parties and also participation in their various activities have much complemented the democratic conditionality of the EU as applied through the Commission’s progress reports on candidate countries which omit political parties. Furthermore, one is inclined to argue that involvement in transnational activity has reinforced or even changed the perceptions of party elites in CEE; and, that this development has of course derived much force from the wider accession process. Eventually, this transnational experience of party elites feeds back into national institutional roles with the progressive interweaving of national and European political careers that will develop in these new EU member states. Indeed, this has already begun to be noticed in some countries like Slovakia, where the Dzurinda governments since 1998 have included parties but also political leaders who learnt much from and were appreciative of their transnational party linkages at a time


before that when they were under political attack from nationalist circles in the Meeiar Government.

5.4 Opinion-makers and public impacts during EU enlargement In settled democratic political life, opinion-makers have an important and at times crucial role to play in providing political information for the general public and in influencing its opinions, tendencies and short-term moods. But this role is never an exclusive one because of competition between rival sources of information. Moreover, there is the invariably competitive, sometimes collusive and often antagonistic relationship between political parties on the one hand and the, especially printed, media on the other. At the same time, in established democracies, there are usually limitations on the influence of opinion-makers deriving from aspects of political culture including the public’s level of political interest and awareness as well as independent knowledge of public affairs. Clearly, too, broader characteristics like public cynicism or expectations come into play and help determine how people respond to politicians and journalists. In new democracies, there are differences as open political life is still unsettled with legacies and complexes if not some fears from the experience of the former regime. Political parties often adjust more quickly as institutional than societal actors. In the latter respect, parties usually require more time to put down roots and consolidate their areas of the electorate. The media, the press in particular, depend on many factors for their emergence and survival including available expertise and skill, the right legal framework for exercising their freedom, of course sufficient finance and, ultimately, a large enough appreciative audience to maintain their role in society. The electronic media have suffered from constraints if not control placed on them by governments in some countries, although that may also be witnessed in some established democracies. In Central and Eastern Europe, these challenges have been pronounced because the ongoing economic transformation, which has accompanied democratisation, has presented both opportunities but also many difficulties – economic and societal – for these two categories of opinion-makers. There has remained a fluidity of political allegiances which inevitably has slowed down democratic consolidation in most post-Communist countries. Additionally, there has been an aversion to the idea of involvement in political parties much remarked on by interview respondents in the transnational parties in the mid-1990s. This was an understandable reaction to regimentation under Communist rule, although it appears to have diminished in recent years – at least in the experience of transnational party officials. These general considerations about opinion-makers are relevant to EU accession for its wider effects have inevitably been affected by their key role


in political communication. Furthermore, there are two interlocking background factors at work here – the length or brevity of integration experience and national predispositions of a cultural kind that incline the public towards or away from integration or create a greater or lesser potential for them to tune into what is happening at the European level. One should stress that there are serious general difficulties in explaining the EU’s operation to the public in member states and that, therefore, these must be worse in accession states. During the accession process, there was a sense that the EU remained a somewhat abstract entity for most people. As a report on the mass media and integration concluded with respect to Romania, ‘it is vital that the information transmitted to the public about the integration process be useful from the point of view of their everyday life’.54 Clearly, this had been really difficult before membership negotiations produced the switch to concrete European issues; although appreciably the realities of integration would take time to filter through to the public domain. Given the public’s ultimate role in sanctioning the decision of political elites negotiating EU membership through the device of referenda in accession states, there was at times an understandable concern especially in government and party circles that their great cause might not make real sense to ordinary voters. As one prominent European policy expert in Lithuania put it back in 2000, ‘we need to use the language of the people and not Brussels jargon’ in reference to the challenge from Eurosceptic groups which could exploit the sheer ignorance of the public then about the EU.55 Nevertheless, EU representatives took pains to try and overcome this problem. As one high European Commission official with experience in two CEE candidate countries remarked, EU delegation heads played an important part in helping to educate the public in CEE about their future membership of the EU and much effort was put into preparing such appearances.56 Then there was the Commission’s own Communications Strategy for Enlargement. Drawing on the EU’s past experience with communications strategies in member states, this sought in accession states to ‘transform an emotional feeling to a rational feeling’ about EU membership, by working on emotional predispositions or pro-EU feelings and educating people about the realities of integration.57 Conceivably, the EU had for a particular reason more general influence in accession states than member states for, despite the former’s shorter experience of integration, the EU represented a national hope factor and an emphasis on the future rather than on the past. This was enhanced by the generally high prestige of the EU but also, more to the point, the much greater trust in it and in international organisations as a whole than in national political institutions. Such a tendency was common to CEECs, but it was pronounced where regime change had been particularly difficult or chaotic and where the political class was perceived widely as corrupt. In Romania, evidence pointed to a ‘growing mistrust of political leaders’ linked to the lack of


internal reform in and consolidation of political parties.58 The country’s very negative corruption rating by TI – as the worst in Europe – also had a bearing on this problem. Accordingly, in the words of the head of an opinion survey institute, ‘the public believe these international organisations [like the EU, IMF and the World Bank] know better than Romanian politicians’ and this meant that these organisations ‘had public opinion behind them’.59 The result was that people in that country made a connection with EU pressure for reform of the state and therefore with better times in the future.60 On cultural predispositions, it is necessary to remember that in new democracies only a limited number of people possess the relevant political know-how and probably also self-confidence to take an independent line on public affairs. A certain fatalism and political cynicism of a corrosive kind has persisted in most post-Communist countries, although NGO development has been an important and often healthy antidote in some of them. In Slovakia, for example, the Slovak European Forum is an umbrella organisation for a wide range of NGOs including centres of European policy and of European studies, university institutions or institutes, citizens’ fora and various foundations and associations, with some of these possessing diverse expertise on EU affairs.61 In some countries, notably Latvia, experts had a much higher public standing than representatives of the political class for instance.62 However, the involvement of these kinds of expert circles was envisaged in the European Commission’s own Communications Strategy for Enlargement. Among its other promotional activities, support was given to NGOs in these countries in the period leading up to accession including for the referenda. The EU’s wider effects through accession is now explored more exactly by looking at the role of the media, trends of public opinion and then the series of referenda held on EU accession during 2003. In each case impacts and interactions will be noted with respect to accession and Europeanisation trends, while special attention will be paid to how this reflects on the ongoing democratisation process and whether it contributes in any way to the EU’s own democratic conditionality (DC). In doing so, it is worth bearing in mind that most opinion-makers – political parties included – tended in CEE accession countries to be more positively inclined towards the EU than their national public notwithstanding the high level of popular support in most of these countries for joining the EU. Obviously, this difference owed much to the education level of the national elites as well as their metropolitan focus. The mass media’s intermediary role found an opportunity in the widespread ignorance of EU affairs in the accession countries together with some evidence of a desire on the public’s part for more information about the EU.63 One might add that the potential for the media was greater in view of the lack of trust and credibility attached to the political class and hence to parties as a channel for communicating political information.64 In general, it has been found in surveys of the media during accession that the quality


press has been quite varied in its attention to and coverage of EU affairs but as a whole more assiduous than radio or television. In Romania’s case, a few quality papers were relatively serious in dealing with European integration while other newspapers hardly showed an interest or only when something sensational could be published; while there was one radio station that was professional about the EU, none of the television stations was particularly informative. However, the Romanian media were at the same time acutely lacking in analyses of EU affairs but as a whole acquiescent, if not positive, about Romania eventually joining the EU.65 There was a tendency for some journalists on such newspapers to acquire more expertise in EU affairs. A key factor here was whether newspapers actually appointed Brussels-based correspondents – which promised an immediacy and greater accuracy in reporting but cost money – or relied instead on the news agencies which were less likely to provide in-depth coverage. In the case of the Czech Republic, in 2000, both Mlada Fronta Dnes, Hospodarské Noviny and Pravo had Brussels correspondents but Lidové Noviny preferred to spend the same amount of salary on two journalists based in Prague and this was still true three years later.66 Of course, internet information could help to bridge the gap providing journalists with access to official information but also other newspapers’ coverage of EU affairs. However, the official news agency CTK had its own Brussels correspondent from early on and his material was used by different newspapers in the Czech Republic. According to Barták, who held this post for many years, his regular sources were confidential information on the negotiations, material from the European Council of Ministers and the Czech negotiating team as well as direct contact with the chief negotiator Telicka from whom he ‘learned a lot’. Based in Brussels since 1996, Barta´k commented that when he first arrived ‘we were considered as some sort of intruders; now with negotiations, people are willing to talk to us.67 In the middle of these negotiations, the situation regarding Brussels correspondents from accession countries was quite varied: Poland had the most with about 8 journalists; the Czech Republic had one radio and one television correspondent as well as the CTK person; Bulgaria only one journalist; Lithuania and Latvia, one or two each; while Slovakia had the correspondent of the official agency TASR and also radio and television correspondents but none from the newspapers as that would be too expensive.68 A significant change came with the onset of membership negotiations, paralleling the effect this had on the political elites. The press, albeit rather selectively, began to take the EU more seriously and to focus on specific aspects, not least for their potential impact on domestic politics and life. This tended to divide those countries invited in the first wave to start negotiations in early 1998 and those that started theirs two years later. In Estonia, one of the first group, the media debate gathered momentum once its talks over membership commenced with now more attention to the practical


consequences of membership, such as the possibly negative effects of EU regulations on Estonia’s liberal economic system (already a source of national pride over its performance) and Brussels’s pressure over Russian minority rights which caused some resentment over ‘interference’ from the EU bureaucracy. Such exposure had some effect in inducing a Eurosceptic tone in reporting.69 Negotiations, with their attendant pressure over and publicity for the policy chapters, had a similar mobilising effect on the media in other accession countries. Czech television had a permanent Brussels correspondent from 1995 but this post only became really active in EU coverage from the late 1990s following negotiations starting in 1998.70 The same change happened in the CEECs invited at the Helsinki summit once they started their negotiations in early 2000. The press in these countries varied considerably from expert coverage to poor quality journalism. Sometimes, it focussed on the big events to the neglect of the mundane issues of the negotiations even when Brussels-based correspondents were well informed on the latter. Accordingly, EU coverage could fluctuate, all the more since sustained coverage of what is perceived as a fairly complex area of governance was difficult. In the Czech case, there was much interest in the press at the start of negotiations but this declined later when matters became more technical but then revived again once big issues surfaced once more on the table. As a result, as a Brussels based journalist commented frankly, ‘we don’t have the possibility through the media of grasping a sense of the whole exercise’ given commercial constraints and assumptions about readerships.71 Again, in the Czech case, it has been found that while reporting increased and improved with negotiations it tended to be more negative than positive in its news and commentary on the basis that ‘bad news is good news’.72 This is also encouraged by the information vacuum on the EU which has largely remained despite the growth in media coverage. Sometimes, wild stories got reported such as that in the press in the Czech Republic that once accession occurred German policemen would be able to arrest Czech citizens – clearly playing on anti-German feeling in that country.73 According to an official in the Communications Strategy Department of the Czech Foreign Ministry, there has remained a lack of exact news on detailed EU affairs in the Czech media so that sensational stories easily spread; although in his experience the media generally took note when the Ministry issued corrections in its press releases to the media.74 Similar problems arose in the countries that started negotiations in 2000. Early in that period, it was observed in Romania’s case that media reports on accession, both printed and televisual, were quite factual such as over EU assistance programmes and diplomatic developments in member states, although coverage was still limited with rare connections made between accession issues and domestic reform efforts.75 A few years later, media coverage in that country had intensified, was found to be from the qualitative point


of view ‘a source of neutral, out-of-context and non-systematic but also subjective informative information, handled singularly, with a certain penchant to have the sensational prevail over the informative’.76 One of the main problems was the complexity of EU affairs. As one official in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs put it, press coverage of these was ‘very distorted not because of bad intentions but because of the difficulty in understanding EU affairs’.77 However, the basic problem was the lack of preparedness of the media in Romania for dealing with the magnitude as well as complexity of EU business. Furthermore, the president of the Monitorul media group (interviewed in 2001) also noticed an underlying lack of interest in EU matters despite the widespread pro-EU attitudes which he saw as ‘a purely emotional reaction to accession’. In his experience, the EU question was even considered boring by some people: ‘although a must to be interested in the EU, it is not considered an issue that will bring large audiences; there is no high commitment to that not because of opposition but because of a lack of real interest’. It was his view that the penetration of media coverage by the EU would take time as well as special efforts such as opening up to different professional group for ‘we are only in the first stage’.78 Another evident tendency is that of a distinct national orientation in reporting EU business; but, then, this is a common feature of the media in EU member states. It reflected a growing awareness in CEECs of national interests being affected by integration. Furthermore, whatever the various deficiencies of media reporting on the EU in CEE accession states, these were usually familiar to member states as well. All this suggests that the role the media plays in post-Communist societies – at least concerning EU affairs – is probably a rather limited one, particularly as the quality press (in which these are primarily reported) has a restricted circulation being especially read in urban areas – where, in fact, pro-EU feeling is stronger than out in the countryside. Accordingly, it has not really fulfilled the potential set by the lack of public information about the EU, although in the course of time – stretching well into the early membership period – this may be more fully achieved. Meanwhile, it could be said, the media in these accession countries has through their exposure to EU affairs received an extra education not only through opening up to other European countries – on which reporting has also increased – but through direct contact with decision-makers in the EU itself. Moreover, in the process, a small number of journalists have benefitted from training programmes funded through the PHARE Programme precisely for accession purposes. Turning to public opinion, the focus will again be on impacts and interactions with respect to accession to the EU. From discussion so far the lack of public information about the EU suggests broad but shallow support for EU membership. At the same time, the fairly wide cross-party consensus in most of these countries could not help but impress in favour of pro-EU rather than anti-EU tendencies, particularly as party supporters usually take


guidance from their parties’ positions on integration (as is commonly the case in EU member states, partly due to the very complexity of EU affairs). However, public cynicism about political elites tended to strengthen the tendency of publics in CEE accession countries to look to the media for information notwithstanding its deficiencies. Another question is how far people made a connection between accession and other major developments related to it. Limited evidence available so far suggests indeed a linkage was made, albeit rather vaguely, both between economic transformation and accession and between the latter and government performance. Strong correlations of sympathy and support were evident in both cases.79 Furthermore, there was a significant relationship not only between democratic satisfaction and pro-integration support but also with reference to democratic hopes. It was found in a 1996 survey that those satisfied with democratic development were almost 20 per cent more likely to support European integration than their unsatisfied counterparts. But perhaps more indicative of a potential EU influence is the data suggesting that people look to the EU to help strengthen democracy in the hope that their dissatisfaction on this count might be quelled.80 This is now a dated survey but its significance is in the attitude at a time when the postCommunist new democracies were more vulnerable and also in the perception of the EU’s relevance here even before the Commission started highlighting its application of the Copenhagen political conditions from the following year. The usually intensive media exposure given each year to the Commission’s progress reports on candidate countries (in which achievement of the political conditions is detailed) will only have increased public awareness of the EU’s positive influence on democratisation. Looking at public opinion on the EU, various patterns are evident. First, there has been an overall tendency in CEE for pro-EU attitudes to outweigh easily anti-EU attitudes from the early years of the post-Communist regime change although eventually there was some decline in this great advantage. Second, there has been considerable cross-national variation in levels of support for the EU – whether this involves general support for EU membership, the image of the EU or voting in a hypothetical referendum about accession. As a rule, the two Balkan countries of Romania and Bulgaria have shown extraordinarily high support as has also for a time Poland and in the past half decade Slovakia. At the other end of the scale have usually been found the Baltic states grouped together as featuring the lowest levels of support. Even so, as in Latvia, as the data for 1998–2002 showed, the pro-EU vote most often had the edge though usually this was small; but interesting was the consistently high proportion there of the undecided.81 The Baltic states’ different background as part of the Soviet Union played a part here for a fairly marked sensitivity about their national sovereignty, only recently regained from Moscow, affected attitudes towards Brussels even though – at a rational level – many people, especially the more educated, were aware of the crucial differences between the EU and the USSR.


Third, different factors weighed in explaining popular inclinations – some of which were common to CEECs. Anderson’s summary of the reasons for mass support for European integration in member states has some applicability also to CEE: ‘economic performance evaluations, domestic political affiliation, approval of government policies, changing political values or a general goodwill in the form of what has been termed a permissive consensus’.82 In other words, largely domestic factors or perceptions dominate even though integration impacts on all of these factors, albeit often in subtle and less obvious ways. And, this domestically focussed perception obviously fits in accession states with the low level of information and understanding of EU affairs. However, particularly important, there was a general interest in politics as well as party affiliation for both opened the way for seeking political information on EU affairs. In Hungary, it was found back in 1997 that those interested in politics and with a definite party commitment (60% of the population) supported EU membership; and of the remaining 40 per cent the vast majority were undecided rather than against it.83 In Slovakia, there has long been a strong correlation between party affiliation and attitudes to the EU; but then strong polarisation there has tended to strengthen that tendency.84 As a whole, public support in CEE has revolved around a combination of political value and utilitarian factors;85 and, it is here that one sees differences between countries in that region and EU member states. Especially salient is a close relationship between a pro-Western orientation and pro-EU attitudes but also decisive are economic and material prospects coming from joining the EU.86 The latter clearly relates to the link made between economic transformation and integration and is marked in CEECs which are poorer – and are perceived as poorer – than EU member states. It is especially pronounced in accession states that have undergone severe economic difficulties like Bulgaria with its financial crisis in the later 1990s. In early 2002, a survey even indicated that Bulgarians wanted to join the EU more because of high living standards in the EU than because accession was good for democratic values.87 At the same time, there were also national-specific issues that had to be taken into account as these sometimes mobilised opinion more than the broad themes. In Bulgaria, there was one issue that had this effect, namely the question of granting visas to Bulgarian citizens to visit the EU: The general attitude towards the Europe Agreement and the EU was not motivated by the concrete provisions and articles of the Agreement which are difficult to be assessed by public opinion … The general attitude is much more influenced by every day life problems connected mainly with the embarrassing and humiliating queues for visas at the doorsteps of the Western embassies. Thus, the expectations of prompt integration in the European structures including expectations for freedom of movement became an unrealistic dream.88


This illustrated how a concrete issue could touch an emotional chord especially when it implied a second-class status for people from CEE. That in turn suggested how, once membership negotiations started, some issues made popular sense and others did not. Accession countries showed a tendency for opinion in favour of joining the EU to decline in this period of negotiations though in most cases from a high level. One should add too that the strain on public expectations, geared to earlier accession, increased with time through the years of these arduous talks on the nuts and bolts of integration. Opinion surveys recorded during this time cycles of Euro-fatigue and a cooling of opinion with some loss of the idealism about returning to Europe that marked opinion in the first half of the 1990s.89 In the Czech case, the loss of Euro-enthusiasm in a country where the ‘return of Europe’ had a particular resonance in the early 1990s just after the fall of Communism owed something to the influence of Euroscepticism among the parties and especially the pronouncements of Václav Klaus identified in the popular mind as the architect of economic reforms. There are various ways of interpreting this change in public opinion. It was more qualitative than quantitative, for it resulted less in a dramatic loss of support for accession than in a more realistic if not wary grasp of the consequences. It could be seen as moving away from a platonic phase or even a honeymoon period; or, it could be viewed as reflecting a vulnerability or brittleness or, alternatively, a shallowness in previous support for the EU. All these rather simple explanations have a certain truth but they do not quite capture the nature of the shift which involved a sometimes awkward translation of ideas into practice. This did not necessarily mean that the reality envisaged was disillusioning for there has been evidence from CEECs that a greater knowledge of EU affairs actually promotes pro-EU attitudes. This question may be explored in two ways: by disaggregating their public and referring briefly to groups in society which favoured or not the EU; and by looking more closely at the problem of lack of information about the EU. By and large, economic sector, status and prospects but also education level as well as age and locality were influential factors. That is, those in industry and business rather than agriculture have been more pro-EU, although in some countries small entrepreneurs have been fearful of accession; while higher levels of income are strongly associated with clear support for accession. There is also much evidence that those who have benefited from the post-Communist economic transformation are much more pro-EU than are the so-called ‘losers’ from this change. This also shows up in regional variation with poorer areas in these countries, like Latgale the impoverished eastern region in Latvia, being the least enthusiastic area there about joining the EU. In Slovakia, the most pro-EU region has been the most western one of Bratislava which not only includes the capital but has the highest standard of living in the country. Farmers are particularly sceptical and concerned about change once membership occurs, although this overlaps with


the fact that rural areas are in general less enthusiastic than are urban areas and especially cities. There are generational differences also, with young people usually more inclined to favour accession than older people this linked with a general attitude towards opportunity and change although the picture here is sometimes complicated in some countries with generational differences less stark. One factor that stands out however is education, for those with higher education are very much more pro-EU than those with just basic or secondary education.90 Clearly, education relates to information on and understanding of the EU to which we now turn. This question is interesting because it not only reflects on how the EU is perceived as a reality but also presupposes a rationality about joining the EU. In other words, people have positive or negative feelings about returning to Europe with some of those on the anti-side perhaps even coloured by nostalgia for the Communist period, such as older people. But in making calculations based on a more precise awareness of what this is about opt in favour, perhaps thereby confirming the idea that there is really no alternative to Euro-Atlantic integration. There is some case for this hypothesis, since surveys have tended to show that people experience less emotion about the EU than about NATO (because of its association with Cold War and, in the light of Kosovo and Iraq, military conflict in recent times) and are therefore cooler in their judgements. However, one should not dismiss cultural predispositions which may well interact with rational and informational factors. For instance, one study of public opinion on EU accession comparing Poland and the Czech Republic concluded that, whereas Czech support is based on a good amount of information and is fairly rational, Polish support is considerably more emotional and hinges on expectations that are likely to prove unrealistic.91 This maybe picks up national cultural patterns and possibly styles of approach to integration issues. However, the difference between the two sets of responses is not necessarily an objective reflection of the countries’ relative situations during accession, that is, it did not follow that the Polish prospects for membership were substantially worse than those of the Czech Republic. The point is that greater information may promote greater rationality on the EU but this does not have a free rein as emotional factors still carry influence. Furthermore, greater knowledge about how the EU works and its policies may do more to strengthen already existing pro-EU inclinations – thus serving to deepen them – than win over opponents, although conceivably the undecided may be affected by this as much as they are won over by rhetorical arguments. Surveys during accession repeatedly recorded low levels of information about the EU among CEE publics, while often indicating a public appetite for more of this – which in itself suggested a positive inclination. There was furthermore no dramatic rise in knowledge about the EU at any point in time, although the annual event of the publication of the Commission’s progress reports certainly created an intensive albeit brief exposure of the


current state of play but it was reported mainly in the quality press which had a restricted readership. At best, we are looking at a long and gradual process of EU information percolating down well into early membership, while bearing in mind that there are similar problems of information diffusion in member states. An important distinction is between acquiring information (such as through the informative glossy brochures of EU delegations and the European Movement) and understanding the EU, for already in CEECs evidence has surfaced on the intrinsic difficulties of understanding it as a type of system let alone its many policy concerns as represented by the 30 negotiating chapters (which have in some states admittedly been the subject of special features in the national press).92 One might add that much public information, especially that coming from the two opinion-makers of parties and the media, is presented with particular political interests in mind or is hardly comprehensive or explanatory in terms of background. There is of course the internet for EU information but its influence depends on public patterns of internet use in these countries. This is growing but is cross-nationally variable but also sub-nationally variable. There are also stark regional differences in information levels and awareness of the EU within CEECs, such as between the Bratislava region and the isolated area of NE Slovakia. Geography matters but so does the urban/rural divide for the level of knowledge is distinctly higher in urban environments than in rural areas in Slovakia’s case.93 Further differentiation should be drawn about the type of information. It was, for instance found in the Slovak example that the general level of knowledge was good (with as many as 70 per cent in 1998 correctly identifying Brussels from five cities as the location of many EU institutions) but poor concerning less simple matters like the Europe Agreement (in operation for over three years) and the EU’s political conditions – even though the latter were quite visible in Bratislava/Brussels relations at this time in the last year of the Meeiar Government.94 In short, public opinion in CEE had problems adjusting to European integration and what it meant for individual countries; but this was not so devastatingly problematic when compared with similar tendencies in EU member states. From this, the patterns described above suggest support for the proxy phenomenon whereby people’s responses to European integration are largely rooted in domestic political considerations such as government and party.95 All the same, whatever fluctuations there were in levels of EU support over time and qualitative changes in its nature, the fact was this support remained impressively high and easily over 50 per cent (except in the Baltic states) and well ahead of opposition to membership. This undoubtedly affected the calculations of political elites although in most cases the parties in CEE had their own reasons for favouring accession.96 A series of referenda on membership were held in CEE accession states from Slovenia in March through to Latvia in September 2003. These provided the


most important occasion so far for political parties and the media to engage with the public on the now long-standing question of joining the EU – or not. They also provided a unique opportunity for upgrading the information levels of the CEE public on EU affairs; and, of course, they were a means for legitimating the decisions taken over preceding years by political elites concerning the conditions under which CEECs actually entered the EU. How, therefore, did the referenda perform by these criteria? First, the cross-party consensus in favour of accession held up through these referenda. There were even signs in some countries of this consensus broadening, with for example in Latvia the nationalist TB/LNNK and the leftist Equal Rights Party adopting more EU-friendly positions.97 This basic agreement did not prevent party-political points being made during referendum campaigns, such as by opposition parties criticising the terms negotiated by governments, as happened notably in Hungary and the Czech Republic (where the newly installed President Klaus went so far as expressing a lack of enthusiasm for EU entry). Altogether, this meant that the ‘Yes’ campaigns were often overweighty with elite support and represented diverse political viewpoints. In Hungary, for example, the ‘Yes’ camp consisted of all four parliamentary parties – which ran their own individual campaigns – and the Foreign Ministry with its EU-backed information campaign but also business and employers’ organisations, trade unions, the major churches and an EU communication foundation (which ran its own advertising campaign). Almost by contrast, the ‘No’ camp consisted mainly of extremist parties on the right and left and a collection of anti-EU groups joined together in the Movement for a Free Hungary.98 The same was true in the other states such as the Czech Republic where the ‘Yes’ campaign dwarfed the ‘No’ one in both resources and effectiveness even though the opposition ODS was not very engaged and the Communist KSEM adopted a belated anti-accession position.99 Even in Estonia, where some Euroscepticism had developed in the past few years, all the parliamentary parties except the Centre Party (which was badly divided on the EU question) campaigned for a ‘Yes’ vote with the peripheral parties working for the ‘No’ campaign.100 The campaigns were also marked by an active part played by NGOs and in some countries the churches. With the media largely in support of or sympathetic towards EU membership, it was hardly surprising that electorates were overwhelmed by the range of opinion stacked in favour of accession. Even in Slovakia, where in past years government/opposition relations had remained antagonistic, there was a demonstration of cross-party affabilility when old political enemies like Meeiar and former President Kováe sat publicly together in a café along with current leaders like Prime Minister Dzurinda and President Schuster. The public’s engagement with parties and the media there certainly was in the referenda in CEE, but it was essentially one-sided all the more as the ‘No’ campaigns tended to run unconvincing


operations. The consequent lack of real excitement about a political choice was reflected in turnout figures which ranged from 45.6 to 63 per cent, except for Latvia where the figure of 72.5 per cent was the same as that in the last parliamentary election of 2002. The referendum campaigns moreover offered a golden opportunity for EU information campaigns, run by governments and NGOs as well as the EU itself. This focus on information was unprecedented in its extent and intensity in the CEECs and, in many cases, this began in advance of the formal campaigns on accession. In Latvia, for example, the European Movement’s Europe Week, with events in different cities, was organised in early May and became the point of departure for the unofficial campaign. It warmed up the ‘Yes’ effort that developed during the summer and reached its final phase in the five weeks from mid-August. The board which ran the government campaign issued material like special brochures produced by the European Integration Bureau (a government coordination unit) and structured in the form of questions and answers. These were on themes of concern to the public identified early on such as: the maintenance of state sovereignty and national independence; possible changes in material welfare; stability and safety as well as the future of the countryside. Fact sheets were produced for special interests, for example 29 on particular agricultural issues alone (reflecting both the EU’s importance in this area as well as the strong rural character of Latvia), with other series for groups like youth, parents, consumers and employers. All these materials were made available in libraries and on the internet while there were info-bus tours especially in rural areas.101 However, as the campaign progressed the simplistic level of argumentation was more in evidence than information promotion, with an emphasis on security and economic as well as historical and futuristic (‘Your Choice, Our Future’) arguments on the pro-EU side. The fragmented anti-EU forces had some potentially powerful arguments, such as over the sensitive issue of national independence, but they failed to exploit these convincingly.102 This shift from information to broad arguments typified the course of other campaigns, such as in Slovenia where the ‘Yes’ debate concentrated on the necessity of close political, economic, cultural and security relationships with the EU with consequences for democratic consolidation, socio-economic development and Slovenia’s international status.103 However, there was evidence of a growth of interest in the EU also in advance of the referenda; and, no doubt, the public desire to learn more about the future in the EU was to some extent met. In Latvia, a growing interest was evident already in the spring of 2003 mainly through watching television or listening to the radio, especially among young people, who were also partial to reading information on EU-related issues.104 Whether this had a lasting effect remains to be seen, although efforts to educate the public about the EU did not cease once the referenda were over. In Slovakia, the government mounted a further


information campaign leading up to accession in spring 2004. The campaigns for European elections in June 2004 provided yet another opportunity, although with that event party-political viewpoints predominated and the very low turnout in CEECs undercut the impact of these elections. Finally, did the referenda legitimate the EU accession process? In formal or minimal terms, the answer is a positive one for all the CEECs produced clear majorities in favour of joining the EU. These ranged from 66.9 per cent in Estonia to 93.7 per cent in Slovakia. Taking such figures, the vote was overwhelmingly ‘Yes’; and, it accorded with trends over some years in the Eurobarometer surveys and also national ones (with, in the Baltic states, the votes surpassing markedly the levels of support previously recorded in surveys). However, the low turnout in a few cases cast some shadow over their results, notably in Hungary as the one case where it fell below 50 per cent (at 45.6 per cent). This disappointment, due to complacency about the ‘Yes’ vote and a general lack of interest, caused mixed feelings in Hungary and nervousness in neighbouring Slovakia where a 50 per cent participation requirement had to be met (it was, although the prime minister indicated that failing a valid referendum, accession would be approved by a parliamentary vote). Altogether, one could say that the electorates in CEE gave their consent more than decisive approval for EU enlargement to go ahead. The referenda of 2003 did not reflect in any deep way on public opinion trends in CEE. They were essentially a further demonstration of both the difficulties in explaining the EU as a system of governance and also its generally high prestige in countries there.

5.5

Intermediary actors and conditionality effects

Our analysis of the political arena in candidate countries in Central and Eastern Europe has revealed a number of broad developments concerning the role of intermediary actors and the domestic dimension of EU enlargement. First, the pressures coming from the accession process and in particular those exerted by Brussels over meeting schedules, not to mention the eventual deadline of EU entry itself, had various effects on political actors in these countries. Even though they were clearly much less constrained by Brussels than were governments immersed in membership negotiations (except for those parties actually holding national office), these actors were forced to come to terms with the accession dynamic such as adapting to the rigorous business of negotiations and their subject matter as well as the requirement for legislators, party organisers and media people to obtain EU expertise in order to perform their roles adequately if not effectively. Second, patterns identified suggest more of a politicisation than a de-politicisation effect coming from accession. Admittedly, it could be argued that the wide cross-party consensus in CEECs – which tended to strengthen as the ultimate deadline approached – had a limiting influence on principled


or basic debate about accession and its consequences. In some countries, indeed, this admittedly had an emasculating influence on party-political competition at least for a while. Nevertheless, the commencement of negotiations produced a fairly decisive shift in attention from general abstractions about integration to more concrete aspects of eventual membership. It focussed minds just as time pressures concentrated them. The result was a much more intensive engagement of parties with EU affairs, although this had begun albeit rather platonically at the level of transnational party involvement once parties from CEE began to be accepted into the European parties initially as associate members. This shift was apparent too among the media although the acquisition of EU expertise proved to be confined to a small number of interested, committed journalists or those suitably located in Brussels. Altogether, this pointed to a qualitative change in domestic responses to integration in the accession countries. Third, there were limitations to how far the accession process could penetrate downwards. This was shown in a number of ways, such as in comparing different levels of party activity as well as the surface effect this process had on cleavages (despite the EU cause being identifiable with the cosmopolitan over the national). That was also evident in the party systems in CEE which continued to remain rather unstable notwithstanding the consensus over European affairs established at the parliamentary level. But most of all the limitations to the domestic political effects of accession were evident at the level of public opinion which, despite intensified efforts through official or non-official information campaigns, continued to be largely ignorant of EU matters. It was domestic political considerations that mainly determined people’s reactions to European integration even though there was public awareness of the grand themes set out by the campaigns in the referenda of 2003. All this tends to confirm the picture of accession being a mainly elite exercise politically. Finally, we turn to the two main questions which have guided this study. What about Europeanisation and democratisation effects portrayed by this examination of the political arena of accession states? And, what lessons may be therefore drawn over two-way effects and the push/pull dynamics of EU enlargement? Europeanisation trends were in fact much more evident among the political parties than either among the media or at the level of public opinion. Parties underwent forms of Europeanisation at both the domestic and transnational levels in parallel. At the domestic level, they were compelled to immerse themselves in EU affairs in both a broad sense but also in considerable detail – when speaking of their parliamentary parties. Furthermore, the growing impact of accession together with the increased sense of the inevitability of it taking place had a noticeable effect on party elites and their calculations about the future. Despite frustration sometimes with the demands of Brussels and a reluctance of the EU to formally and finally commit itself to


Eastern enlargement, domestic leaders willed themselves into thinking it could not fail. At the transnational level, policy-oriented Europeanisation was again apparent although much less intensive than at the domestic level. At the same time, CEE parties underwent ideological pressure once they moved into European party politics and in some cases – notably, ethnic parties – they even redefined themselves ideologically for transnational purposes. Moreover, the transnational parties operated their own democratic conditionality which complemented that of the European Commission. Transnational party procedures for democratic vetting of new members, but also the latter’s subsequent experience within the European parties, had a significant influence when looking at democratising effects. Practices learned in TPC had some impact back home even though direct involvement in TPC was limited to relatively small numbers of party personnel. The European Commission certainly took a quiet interest in the democratic commitment and nature of parties in candidate countries, although they were not part of the agenda of the official political conditions. In a few problematic cases, leaders from the Commission did however intervene diplomatically although it is difficult to say this had much effect. While the media reported on the EU’s democratic conditions this was only occasional and most of all visible at the time the Commission’s progress reports were issued once a year. By and large, the national publics were not very aware of the specific political conditions monitored by the European Commission. But they were more vaguely conscious of the beneficial promise in this respect coming from joining the EU, such as a belief that EU membership might improve domestic institutions (especially in those CEECs where domestic institutions had a particularly bad reputation). At least, a link was made in people’s minds between European integration and democratic satisfaction although often more subconsciously than consciously. But it is difficult to speak of impacts on democratic conditionality coming from intermediary actors and their interactions except in indirect and rather diffuse ways. On a more specific but crucial matter, that of relations between political elites and mass opinion, the more pessimistic expectations of some observers of the accession process were not fulfilled. Membership negotiations were an elite-driven process, leaving politicians often little time for the niceties of democratic consultation outside parliamentary circles, but the much remarked-on gap between elites and masses in these still relatively new postCommunist political systems seemed not to worsen as a result of accession. This was partly due to the high prestige and credibility of the EU but it also owed something to the fact that the dynamic of accession carried through to the end and did not unwind (which would certainly have happened if enlargement had run into severe difficulties at the EU end). By and large, political elites involved in their accessions were far from complacent and this showed in public. Whether this relatively positive situation holds after


membership commences, with perhaps some disillusionment among CEE public, remains to be seen. As to indicators on the state of democracy from the experience of accession, two final points may be made. First, CEE governments managed the accession process imperfectly but as a whole competently and this was perceived at the public level. If this answered some of the hoped-for promise among public opinion that joining the EU would improve the performance of domestic institutions, then that could be interpreted as a positive development for democratic consolidation. Second, the way both political parties and to a lesser extent the media handled the business of accession pointed to a certain professionalisation but also to an ability to rise to what was an historical occasion. Third, EU accession had various effects on political competition. The wide consensus on what was a major and rather overarching question served in general to reduce polarisation and fundamental opposition. The consensus over accession and integration set certain systemic boundaries – directly in terms of accepting the EU system, indirectly in the implicit acknowledgement of the importance of the EU’s political conditions – but this still left open scope for political competition over a whole range of particular EU issues as well as the success of governments in meeting their targets in the negotiations.

6 The Socio-economic Arena and Deepening Democracy: Economic Transformation, Civil Society and Ethnic Minorities in Candidate Countries

6.1

European integration and the socio-economic arena

The deeper effects of European integration are often assumed to be either very limited or not very perceptible or, at best, long term and therefore more discernible after a certain period as a member state. This owes something to the perception of the EU institutions as distant from society (meaning, essentially different national societies); but it is important to distinguish between such perceptions and the real effects of integration. This chapter is concerned with the socio-economic impacts of EU accession and how these have affected democratisation in post-Communist states as well as how perceptions of the EU might also have influenced political attitudes in that process. In general, one would expect integration’s socio-economic impacts to be less extensive in accession countries compared with already existing and especially long-established member states. However, European integration has in more recent times – and increasingly so from the 1980s – much broadened its policy scope with greater potential for influencing the socioeconomic arena, as evident in the extent of the acquis communautaire. And, one should add that the intensity with which – as distinct from the brevity of time in which – the acquis communautaire has been adopted and implemented by CEECs justifies looking at how this has affected this socioeconomic arena. The EU has been a major external force pushing for economic reform in accession countries. This has been evident in the agenda of such reform but also especially in the pace with which it has been pursued. Although satisfaction of the Copenhagen political conditions was made a special priority before membership negotiations could be opened, the economic conditions nevertheless had to be sufficiently met beforehand and they continued to be monitored in parallel to negotiations in the 191


Commission’s annual progress reports. There are different ways of pursuing the economic and social effects of EU accession. First, the whole acquis communautaire – the central concern of negotiations – has a considerable potential for impacting policy-wise on the socioeconomic arena. The various EU negotiation chapters affect the relevant sectors though more so in those policy areas most Europeanised (notably agriculture) rather than say small and medium-sized undertakings, although how soon depends in part on transition periods negotiated. But the key question is that of implementation meaning compliance and enforcement which must precede real effects. Implementation involves governmental commitment to enforcement such as through the allocation of resources, especially for some EU chapters where heavy costs are involved (notably in the environmental sector), as well as to constructing social agreement for the sake of compliance. In this respect, the socio-economic arena comes to play an important part in the process of policy Europeanisation. In other words, the overall effects of the acquis communautaire should be considerable but these are likely to take time to filter down to society; while perceptions of such change might take even longer or, alternatively, be cross-sectorally variable. Second, the integration impacts on this arena are vastly more economic in nature than social. This is evident from the subject matter of the chapters with over half devoted to economic areas, including financial matters and, of course, the four freedoms (of the provision of services as well as free movement of capital, goods and persons); while social affairs account for four or five of the 30 chapters. However, implementing European economic legislation will in many cases have eventual social consequences. The social impacts of accession are by and large more diffuse than the economic except where specific issues have immediate effects on ordinary people, as for instance the question of entry visas for citizens of some CEE states (Romania and Bulgaria) wishing to go to EU member states. This particular question was also one where the link with EU accession was widely perceived. But, in general, it is likely that many people in Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) will not be aware of how much joining the EU will influence their lives. Together, the final satisfaction of the Copenhagen conditions and the gradual implementation of the acquis communautaire will have diverse impacts on life in the new member states that joined in May 2004. One can mention such changes as: economic opportunities and of course losses for different sectors but also different groups within them; the raising of environmental standards which is costly for business but beneficial to society (representing a marked change from the Communist period when industrial performance was pursued to the ruthless exclusion of environmental considerations); a probably safer situation in localities where old-fashioned nuclear reactors have continued to operate but are being decommissioned under EU pressure as an additional political condition for membership; better

The Socio-economic Arena and Deepening Democracy 193

possibilities for regional development including the sustainable variety; a much predicted and already occurring rise in energy prices and the cost of living although not necessarily in harmony with a rise in incomes; and, such openings for greater international contact as educational exchanges. The dire predictions about problems like migrant labour and asylum seekers that accompanied the entry of Central and Eastern European Countries (CEECs) into the EU in the spring of 2004 missed the significance of all these developments. Third, one may speak of economic and social effects of EU accession in the wider context of post-Communist transformation. This refers to the concurrent systemic changes that have occurred since 1989 and are still not fully complete. Of the eight CEECs that joined the EU in 2004 all except Poland and Hungary have been undergoing what is termed the ‘third transformation’ of state formation and nation-building, economic system change being considered the second one and democratisation the first. Therefore, the impact of the EU on the socio-economic arena should finally be judged in relation to the effects of systemic changes that as from the early 1990s preceded the most important impacts of European integration on CEE and from the second half of this same decade continued to accompany them. Furthermore, the EU was by no means the only important external actor in this respect. The international financial institutions (the World Bank and the IMF as well as the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development [EBRD]) played a key role over economic reforms with the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) financing projects in human development; while the Council of Europe and the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) were a determining influence over promoting human and minority rights. By and large, cooperation between these different organisations improved over the years but it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between their separate effects. Once membership negotiations started with the EU, it became more possible to identify that organisation’s own impact because of the gradual effects of the acquis communautaire now at the centre of attention with negotiations and because the Commission from 1998 annually featured the different conditions and progress over them in each candidate country. Interactions between the three transformations provide the basis for assessing the relevance of EU impacts on the socio-economic arena for postCommunist democratisations in CEE. With economic transformation, which was given a decisive additional push by EU accession, there has been short or medium-term social dislocation with losers as well as winners and this has caused political tensions; while the outcome – if successful with restructuring and modernisation – should lay the basis for economic growth for these countries, now locked into the international economy and embarking on EU membership. Growth and modernisation (which is very much part of the EU agenda for accession countries) may ultimately change political


mentalities. In short, economic transformation may cause some interim problems for democratic consolidation, but in the long run it has a fortifying potential and, once EU membership is secured, economic transformation and democratic consolidation are likely to interact positively and finally to run together. On present form, however, this outcome will in its timing be very variable among the CEE accession countries with Slovenia virtually at this point already and Romania continuing to be the probable latecomer. With the third transformation, the EU’s role is much less central for its brief does not strictly involve matters of state formation and nation-building. It is possible to say that European values encourage new perceptions of national identity, especially when the ‘return to Europe’ allows new democracies to shuffle off more easily associations with the dictatorial past. But there is one specific area where the EU together with some other international organisations provides a consistent pressure for improvement and that is over minority rights. The EU comes to act as an agent here for social integration and political tolerance and hence, in a wider sense, as a direct influence to the benefit of democratisation and the quality of these post-Communist systems. Hence, European integration acts as a powerful external force for change, exerting the leverage it has over accession countries. At the same time, Brussels is dependent on their governments but also other domestic agents like economic elites and local non-governmental organisations (NGOs) for policy effectiveness and, ultimately, on elements of political culture for compliance. In other words, the EU’s socio-economic impact should be judged ultimately in relation to developments in civil society in the accession states. In particular, how much did EU accession help in this respect to legitimate what are still largely unconsolidated democracies in Central & Eastern Europe? Since this was a long-term process, leading beyond the date of actual accession, this present analysis has to be seen as interim. It will concentrate in turn on economic transformation and civil society and NGO development in the post-Communist new democracies.

6.2

EU accession and economic transformation

Economic transformation causes economic hardship and social dislocation with probable political effects. However, the timing of this process in relation to European integration pressures, which intensified with negotiations, has to be taken into consideration. This shows that in most cases the first process was well underway, if not its worst effects already evident, before the EU’s economic conditions and legislation began to impact strongly and visibly in the later 1990s. Meanwhile, trade with the EU was already growing immensely in the first half of that decade and this continued into the accession period – in Latvia’s case, more than doubling both during the first years of independence 1992–95 and then again with the EU of 15 states during 1995–2002. The ‘return to Europe’ began in the commercial field with


all its benefits and this in turn influenced the attitudes of economic elites, especially business and industry, usually positively towards the possibility of EU accession for their own countries. In some accession countries, however, economic transformation was delayed and thus came to be more combined with accession. This applied mostly to Bulgaria and Romania, especially the latter; but cross-party consensus and the consistently high level of public support in both countries for EU entry meant this linkage did not become a controversial political issue. Concern and discontent among voters in CEE usually expressed iself through a fairly regular alternation in power between government and opposition parties without uneasy systemic consequences and without a threat to EU accession. All this points to a limited impact on democratisation all the more since actual accession, locking these countries into the EU system, was seen widely as reinforcing the prospects of democratic consolidation. If economic reform did not substantially affect the prospects for EU membership in CEECs, this was also a matter of perception. Public opinion did not fully grasp the significance of accession for their economic situation partly out of ignorance – notwithstanding some publicity in the quality press about rising prices – but also as political parties tended not to highlight economic issues in a negative light. Poland was perhaps the main exception where, for instance, the League of Polish Families focussed on unfavourable economic impacts for particular sectors such as agriculture. But even in Poland, several years into negotiations, there was still among ordinary Poles little sense of the connection between EU accession and the process of economic modernisation.1 Eurosceptic parties usually concentrated on politically symbolic or nationalist themes like the consequences for national identity or the threat to national values from the seemingly irrational bureaucracy of Brussels. It is true, as in the referendum campaigns, that opposition to membership did not ignore economic factors. In Latvia, for example, it drew attention to that country being the poorest of the new EU member states and the problems it would suffer inside the EU from competition with economically much stronger member states. But here as elsewhere the opposition did not make effective use of their arguments, mainly through bad organisation and a lack of resources. And so the economic dimension of accession failed really to get across to ordinary people at this final and decisive stage. The promembership forces meanwhile emphasised the economic advantages of joining the EU, made publicity about EU funds already received and the prospect of increased funds with membership, while referring to the likelihood of greater foreign direct investment (FDI) and the boost this would give to jobs and economic growth. Notwithstanding the truth in such positive arguments, there remained, nevertheless, quite some scope for public disillusionment with the EU


following accession not least because ignorance about its economic realities would diminish with time and direct experience of being inside the EU would accordingly grow. A probable reaction could be enhanced electoral punishment for ruling parties and the possibility of nationalist or populist figures and forces coming to power. That would undoubtedly place a strain on relations between Brussels and the new member states in question, albeit, within the constraints on policy-making set by the rules of membership. Moreover, political pressures from the EU as well as from interested parties within these countries are likely to come into play if such forces threatened EU membership. One factor that will be influential after accession are the attitudes and behaviour of economic elites and interests. What, therefore, has been their position during the accession process and has this been relevant in any way to democratisation in post-Communist countries? This question is examined with respect to their response to EU accession, their involvement if any in membership negotiations and their efforts to ‘Europeanise’ their activity and engage with EU level organisations. Finally, differential economic effects are considered including the issue of winners and losers from accession with special attention to agriculture and trade unions. First, business and industry were broadly speaking very favourable to EU membership because of the appealing opportunities this presented of wider markets and strengthened international contacts. This motive was all the stronger since most of the CEE candidate countries were small so joining the EU and its single market would dramatically change their prospects. Such a positive attitude was based on macroeconomic considerations and related to trade, of course, as well as growth possibilities – encouraged by an increase in FDI – and general prosperity in the future. In the Czech Republic, for instance, one survey concluded that 85 per cent of the business community’s representatives agreed with EU membership for that country.2 This was not so true in less developed and dynamic economies like Romania’s where certain interests such as state-owned enterprises remained resistant to economic reform and in turn to the challenges of EU membership.3 Clearly, there are major differences between such CEECs as the Czech Republic and Romania as to the degree to which interests have broken away from obsolescent economic practices and industrial structures deriving from the Communist period.4 It is conceivable too that public attitudes play some part in the responses of economic interests with, for example, evidence of a higher proportion of people inclined to support social transformation and modernisation in the Czech Republic than in Slovakia (21% of those economically active compared with 16.8%).5 This is not surprising given that the Czech Republic has more clearly embraced entrepreneurial values and that Slovakia is a more traditional society. In Romania’s case, evidence of a reluctance to abandon non-competitive behaviour persisted into the period of membership negotiations due to the monopolistic approach of many


enterprises, non-loyal competition and state permissiveness towards such practices. Significant, too, in this arduous process of economic change in Romania have been ‘weak mechanisms of political representation and mediation, coupled with an emerging civil society’. That still allowed certain professional groups or unions to have ‘preferential treatment when it comes to income and wages’, whereby ‘government officials, in spite of low productivity rates, almost always accepted the claims presented by these pressure groups on the grounds of avoiding further conflict’.6 Altogether, despite their proneness to supporting EU membership, companies in CEE were largely unprepared for this major development. The 2002 report of the European chambers of commerce found that, while 93 per cent of Central European firms wanted enlargement, almost 90 per cent of the 2,500 firms surveyed felt insufficiently informed about EU legislation with more than 30 per cent having no information at all or were not concerned with the acquis communautaire with which they must comply.7 A couple of years before, it was found in a survey of SMEs in the Czech Republic – one of the more advanced economies in CEE – that only one-third had started preparations for joining the EU;8 and that was nearly two years after negotiations had begun. From the evidence available, it follows economic interests were generally not in a good position to estimate their possibilities and cope with competition in the EU insofar as ‘knowledge was power’ in this respect. At best, they were rather slow in adapting to accession which helps to explain their lack of a very active part in the negotiations. Second, while their interest in EU matters increased with the onset and progress of membership negotiations economic groups were not involved regularly in these. But this was as much, if not more, due to governments failing to consult with them than it was a result of their lack of preparedness, although there was some cross-national variation here. In Slovakia, a Consultative Committee operated during accession consisting of employers’ associations and trade unions as well as NGOs and scientific institutions. This met once every quarter of a year and showed an interest admittedly more in certain EU negotiating chapters over others, with the activism of certain groups varying according to whether they had a direct interest in individual chapters. The Chief Negotiator found the Chamber of Commerce especially active while participants were as a whole well briefed.9 It has to be said here that this particular Chief Negotiator’s generally consultative style during the negotiations helped in this respect. The situation was different in the Czech Republic where Telicka as Chief Negotiator proved not so open to dealing with economic interests during the negotiations, except in those sectors dominated by foreign investment. This was despite pressure from such bodies as the Euro-Czech Forum, representing chambers of industry and commerce, whose aim was to initiate debate on the reform of the legal-business environment in the Czech Republic to make it comparable to that in EU member states.10 Some difference emerged


between the two Balkan candidate countries with the Bulgarian authorities showing more conscientious effort to consult formally with interests over negotiation chapters than was the case in Romania, although generally organised economic interests were rather less developed in South-East Europe than in East-Central Europe (ECE). In Bulgaria, the chambers of commerce were active and informed although other parts of business were less inclined to lobbying. They worked closely, for instance, with the Ministry of Economy as did different industrial associations which provided technical advice on such matters as the chemical industry and cosmetics. According to a senor official in that Ministry, this involvement gave Bulgarian interest associations more self-confidence as they were beginning to develop links with European associations and thereby learn how the latter ‘work with the Commission and with national administrations’ so that ‘their attitude is different; their level of knowledge is different; they are better acquainted with what their role should be’.11 But in general a lobbying culture was not well developed in Bulgaria, for as the European Economic and Social Committee found revealingly Genuine consultation on economic and social policy is something new for Bulgaria. This must be taken into account when evaluating consultation practices with regard to accession so far. Under the old regime, the so-called economic and social interest groups were mere mouthpieces of the party and the political elite. Though today’s government is a democratically elected one, their views of interest groups and their expectations of value-added by consulting them may still be coloured by the more than forty years’ old culture of the Communist past. Many representatives of the interest groups, similarly, will to a certain degree be prisoners of the past. One cannot expect employers’ federations, trade unions, consumers’ associations, organised farmers etc. to function already in the same way as their colleagues in countries with a long tradition of democracy and tripartite and bipartite dialogue.12 Thus, the legacy of state management under Communist rule continued to inhibit the development of independent interest group activity. An attitude persisted in CEECs of regarding the government as the main actor providing ideas and solutions without realising enough that policy elaboration may be influenced at different stages.13 Furthermore, interest groups have a potential for influencing public opinion; but as a whole this has not happened much with respect to accession to the EU. Change will come gradually with time and especially generational turnover. Younger economic leaders, preferably with training abroad in business administration, should play an important part in such change in the new EU member states. Inevitably, these problems of interest group activism in relation to accession were reflected in emerging links with European organisations. This


is a phenomenon with precedent in Southern Europe, where newly established interest groups in the then recently established young democracies found European organisational channels a welcome possibility for bypassing governments reluctant to consult with them over policy-making. In this direct way, groups’ involvement in European interest organisations helped eventually to prise open policy formulation in Spain, Greece and Portugal and thus made a small but significant contribution to their democratic development.14 In CEE, such a development has begun but so far the indications are that it is more laborious than in Southern Europe and is certainly taking longer to establish. Partly this is due to a lack of political experience – in fact, the same reason that inhibited their domestic involvement in accession business – but also the lack of funding for what can be a fairly costly activity (and which, as seen in Chapter 5, had similarly inhibited the transnational involvement of political parties from CEE). Several interest group respondents referred to this problem, including in the case of the large organisations. Some chose therefore to operate through their country’s mission office in Brussels and several were able to take advantage of some limited financial support from the PHARE Programme and the European Commission for developing European contacts, although even then opening offices proved prohibitive both because of the permanent cost involved and complicated Belgian laws.15 However, the potential benefits could be considerable ranging from networking possibilities and immediate access to useful information (on EU policy matters as well as on the activity of groups in other European countries) to acquiring political know-how from established groups in Western Europe. On the EU side, the motives for encouraging such contacts with prospective partners in CEE have basically to do with enlargement. European interest groups have been concerned to strengthen democracy in CEE as well as, primarily, to influence the policy thinking of CEE interest groups and thus enhance the capacity and cohesion of these enlarged Euro-groups following accession.16 The Euro-groups have provided something of an organisational model for interest groups in CEE, although the extent to which the latter have developed European strategies for the purpose of putting pressure on their own national governments has been cross-nationally quite varied. It has been noticeable already by the late 1990s in countries like Hungary and Slovenia.17 Failing this, interest groups in CEECs have sometimes lobbied EU delegations in their national capitals over detailed policy changes, a practice that has tended to be ad hoc rather than forming a pattern. Third, differential economic effects of economic transformation have begun to be apparent in the context of EU accession. While some fear of the socio-economic consequences of EU membership has surfaced, due mainly to press coverage, it has usually been of a diffuse kind at the public level. Among economic interests, there has been a slow realisation of sectoral impacts but most of all this has occurred among the agricultural sector. This


question has focussed on ‘winners’ and ‘losers’ from European integration; but this debate has tended to be mainly confined to experts including economists, policy institutes and sometimes informed journalists.18 ‘Winners’ have usually included the following: entrepreneurial people and the more highly educated; urban dwellers and those living in dynamic regions and national minorities with links to mother countries: the younger generation more likely to enjoy the benefits than face the costs of adjusting to EU membership as well as those versed in major foreign languages. ‘Losers’ on the other hand were to be found often among: the unskilled, deprived minorities unable to cope with adjustment, people living in depressed areas and older people without convertible assets as well as those losing out from increasing transparency due to strict EU regulations (such as mafia entrepreneurs and interests linked to corruption).19 It has also been noted in some countries that economic transformation has given rise to a ‘new poverty’ due to the increasing cost of living created by price liberalisation, an inability to adapt to market conditions and unemployment through restructuring. This is particularly true of the once-secure urban proletariat affected among other things by the reduction of state subsidies on rents, foods and transport.20 But it is significant that the political expression of socio-economic discontent has remained domestically focussed, being vented against national governments thus contributing considerably to executive instability in many accession countries. This may have harmed the performance of what are still unconsolidated new democracies; but it has not substantially impacted on EU accession. There has, however, been one sector that has reacted very sharply to its membership prospects but not in all accession countries and at a late stage in membership negotiations. This sector was agriculture which is not really surprising given this is the one most Europeanised in terms of EU competence compared with national policy responsibility. Agriculture has been a sensitive political issue in the accession process because of the size of this sector in CEE – much greater than in the 15 established EU member states – and because in some countries agricultural interests are voiced by agrarian parties. For Brussels, on the other hand, this sector raised problems of the consequent strain on the European budget. But a full appreciation of this issue was slow in coming among agricultural populations in accession countries partly because of a reluctance of government politicians to explain how difficult adjustment would be due to their overriding concern to achieve membership as soon as possible. Here the national obsessions with EU entry deadlines proved inhibiting to domestic dialogue, although this was also partly because of ignorance about EU affairs among farmers.21 But this scenario was somewhat cross-nationally variable. In countries like Poland, where the farming lobby was politically aware and well organised, there was a greater likelihood of mobilisation over the terms of EU accession.


The Polish agricultural sector is notably large, even by CEE standards, with 26 per cent of those employed in the national economy. Of these the majority, consisting of elderly or poorly educated owners of smallholdings, will encounter severe problems adapting to EU membership while a minority of market-oriented farmers look likely to benefit from higher EU agricultural prices.22 Furthermore, there is one party – the Polish Peasant Party (PSL) – which specifically represents this sector fairly volubly – while the countryside has been seen as having a special significance for Polish culture, so that it is not too far a step for EU pressure over agricultural matters to be presented in some farming circles as a threat to national values as well as their economic interests. Indeed, one PSL deputy prime minister and agriculture minister went so far as saying that the agricultural sector was ‘the last bastion of Polishness’ in the national economy: ‘Polish land will remain in Polish hands’ and his party would ‘make sure that our farmers will be treated the same as farmers from the EU and so that after our entry to it they will have identical opportunities to compete in the market’.23 This was a clear application to sectoral interest of the general criticism in some accession countries that Brussels was treating candidate countries as second class. Moreover, EU bureaucratic procedures were beginning to cause irritation with the requirement that also smaller farmers would have to compose ‘business plans’, leading many to fear that Poland would be exchanging the tyranny of Moscow for that of Brussels.24 The issue that sparked off protests both in Poland and elsewhere was the European Commission’s non-negotiable decision in early 2002 over EU funds. On grounds of severe pressures on the EU budget, this limited direct payments to CEE farmers to 25 per cent of that received by present EU states, rising to 100 per cent only after ten years. This led immediately to vociferous complaints from farmers in Poland that they were being sold short by the EU, having expected – and encouraged by the PSL to expect – ‘equal treatment’ with farmers in Western Europe.25 From this moment onwards, farmers in different accession countries expressed intermittent anger over the question of EU subsidies.26 It was one clear example of where a sectoral interest perceived a serious threat to its future from joining the EU. While the Polish case was somewhat exceptional for its political energy over the agricultural issue, the impact of the Commission’s announcement was widespread not least because political leaders had played down the problem or some parties had raised sectoral expectations to an unrealistic level. But the issue as it developed, and it continued to engage farming opinion right up to the Copenhagen summit in December 2002, was rather unique in the accession process. One other general factor that helped to explain the absence or low awareness of EU effects on sectoral interests was precisely the low degree of articulation of these interests in the CEECs. Associational development there was seriously hampered, among other reasons by both the Communist


legacy – producing a mistrust, especially of trade unions – and the sharp effects of economic transformation itself over the past decade and more. Structural change and the reduction in the active employed debilitated such organisations even though their legal status had improved with the transition to democracy; although in Poland and Hungary trade unions have showed more political and organisational muscle than in other countries.27 But while there have been signs of trade unions and employers’ associations seeking to influence government decisions, the rather exclusive method of operating by negotiation teams in some countries together with the general ignorance of EU affairs on the part of both sides of industry detracted from a role of influence over accession. Ultimately, the impact of European integration on socio-economic interests in CEECs will become clearer after they have joined and will depend on how they adapt economically and whether growth occurs and at what rate. Only then will it become possible to speak of real winners and losers, although the broad patterns of these evident so far are likely to remain. One vital factor will be the growth in FDI which is both confidence boosting but also a major source of new employment. So far, FDI has over the past decade concentrated on ECE countries that most impressively embarked on economic reform shortly after Communism ended and were included in the first group of countries invited to negotiate EU membership – namely, Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic – with, for instance, the two Balkan candidate countries way behind. But acceptance into international organisations helped to encourage FDI, such as in Slovakia’s case after its invitation to join the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) in 2000. EU membership should give a major push to FDI possibilities given the opening of the single market to CEE. These countries, attractive to investors for their cheap skilled labour, will no longer suffer from their market smallness. Political stability is also an influential factor and rating agencies tend to be impressed by the perceived security of EU (and NATO) membership. It is a question of EU membership offering promise and potential. A similar development occurred in Southern Europe when FDI there took a sharp upturn around 1985 at the time the new democracies of Spain and Portugal joined the then EEC.28 In conclusion, one could say that by and large the link between postCommunist economic transformation and EU accession failed to crystallise as a clear and salient political issue before EU membership occurred, even though the potential for this was quite considerable. The reasons included political elite caution, public support for accession and limited involvement and a low state of understanding of EU affairs on the part of interest groups. There were some national or sectoral exceptions to this; but, as a whole, it is possible to conclude that accession was not much politicised in the socioeconomic arena. The result was that EU accession avoided many serious possible threats to its eventual successful outcome.


But what about the meaning of this for post-Communist democratisation? Of course, one could argue that the easy ride EU accession was given at this level had an indirect consequence, for it facilitated EU membership, which, now achieved, would act in different ways as a powerful reinforcing factor behind democratic consolidation. As to more direct effects of relevance, the failure to consult interests by governments in some of these countries over accession matters was not a hopeful sign. Furthermore, the lack of articulation and development of socio-economic interests was an indicator of weakness in these still new democracies. At the same time, the fairly new phenomenon of Europeanisation of some interest group activity held out the possibility of a strengthening of interest groups in CEE both organisationally and politically. Altogether, the impact of EU accession on the economic level was rather limited so far as democratisation was concerned in the pre-membership period. It remains to be seen whether or how much this situation will change after EU accession.

6.3

EU accession, civil society and minority rights

The societal effects of European integration are usually difficult to determine not least because they tend to be diffuse but also often indirect, such as resulting from EU pressures over economic reform. Furthermore, as in member states, the societal effects of integration may be somewhat invisible for their salience ‘disappears’ within domestic affairs except when they become controversial. According to some evidence, the impact of external democracy promotion on the societal level in post-Communist countries has been minimal if not negligible. For instance, Quigley’s report on democracy assistance to East-Central Europe (published in 1997) found that in most cases there was little impact on society at large partly due to limited resources on the part of outside foundations but also as the emphasis was on promoting economic restructuring and organisations like NGOs.29 A more recent report has confirmed this broad pattern by concluding that Western NGOs ‘have played a large and important role in many formerly Communist states helping to design and build [civil society] institutions associated with democratic states; they have done little as yet to affect how these institutions actually function’.30 However, it should be remembered, that the EU has a greater capacity for societal impacts than any other international actor. Attention will focus first on the general state of civil society in postCommunist countries as this highlights the magnitude of the problem and places the EU role in context. That forms a background to discussing in particular the role of NGOs with respect to international support under democracy programmes but also especially their role over EU accession. It has to be remembered though that, in parallel to EU accession, other outside actors played a crucial part in NGO development and so notice has to be taken of their relevance for EU accession. Finally, attention turns to the


question of minority rights where the EU has provided a consistent outside pressure for improvement alongside other international organisations like the OSCE and the Council of Europe. Rather more than in other areas of civil society, this is one problem where it is possible to estimate some impact from the process of EU accession. The role of civil society is generally recognised as taking different forms in democratic consolidation. These include: reinforcing the limits on state power and governmental accountability, thus helping to undermine remnants of authoritarian power that might have continued after regime change began; developing associational life as an infrastructure of new democratic life but also as intermediary networks for promoting different interests and causes; and, furthering civil awareness and attachment to democratic values including political pluralism and political tolerance. However, it does not follow that these standard attributes have all to be fully developed for a new democracy to be hailed as consolidated.31 For civil society is often weak at the outset of democratisation and especially following totalitarian experiences where, unlike in some authoritarian settings, there has been no final liberalisation phase allowing for some restricted emergence of societal activity opening the way for civil society to emerge with transition. What is required for consolidation’s prospects is evidence of significant change with some awakening of civil engagement and signs that political elites are taking note of bottom-up pressures over key political issues. Civil society development has, however, been laboured and rather problematic in CEE due to a combination of different factors. The heavy repression of the Communist period is a major one that leaves deeper effects than just an initial pattern of low participation for it has occasioned widespread political cynicism and mistrust, further encouraged by corrupt practices among new democratic elites. As a result, new institutional design with the coming of democracy has not yet at least brought about the embedding of democratic values inculcated largely from above. Moreover, neo-liberal notions like self-reliance and self-motivation are starkly inconsistent with people’s prior conditioning under Communism.32 Given the weight of legacies from Communism, hardly enough time has elapsed since 1989 for fundamental change; and, it is conceivable in some countries at least that building an engaged civil society will take a long while and possibly a couple of decades. For instance, the pervasive Communist legacy is especially noticeable in Romania where there was no dissident movement worth mentioning and where a psychology of resignation has persisted.33 This weakness of civil society so far in post-Communist Europe is the most serious deficiency in the democratisation process there, since it suggests a lack of real depth which comes from democratic habits and skills being fostered at this level through associational networks.34 For this reason, outside assistance to civil society has been all the more crucial; although that top-down mechanism may in turn create an over-dependence on donors


and encourage a rather elitist ethos of democracy. Indeed, so many civil society organisations in CEE have been almost completely dependent on Western grants and support that this is a real potential problem.35 One asks what will happen when international NGOs pull out from accession countries now that they have achieved the ultimate prize for their efforts of EU membership. Generational turnover with new personnel taking over leading positions in civil society is one probable way out of this trough of underdevelopment, particularly if they have benefited from networking experience and socialisation at the European level. The EU has at times been criticised during the accession process for its lack of adequate involvement of civil society representatives although admittedly such criticism has also been directed towards accession governments. This criticism has come notably from the Open Society Institute (OSI) which, committed strongly as it is to precisely this task, has argued for the EU and candidate countries encouraging civil society input into programme design, implementation and evaluation as well as providing independent monitoring of government performance.36 This is of course a standard expectation of civil society’s role in democracy; but in the circumstances of postCommunist CEE it is possibly too much to expect of the EU at this stage. Certainly, there are limits as to how far the EU itself, with its multiple obligations, can carry an outside responsibility for civil society development, even though international NGOs and organisations like the OSCE (notably in the Baltic states over the Russian minorities) have in their much more focussed way contributed towards this. There is one variant on this which views the EU as balancing a weak civil society by offering the prospect of being part of a modern, democratic Europe as a way of reinforcing a commitment to democracy, thus providing a bridge in the relationship between (weak) civil society and the state.37 However, the example of post-Franco Spain – quoted in this argument – is not really paradigmatic for post-Communist CEE because of the greater severity of the non-democratic experience there (all the more since Spain underwent forms of liberalisation in Franco’s final decade) and because of the much greater extent of transformation in CEE with consequent social dislocation. While the EU’s credibility and the hope it offers for the future similarly provide a reference point in CEE for democratic commitment, the problems that remain there – including the lack of rooted party systems and of viable civil societies – are such that this symbolic association with European integration has only limited societal effects. International actors, including the EU, which have promoted civil society development have chosen to equate this with furthering NGOs. In the words of Carothers, they have assumed ‘that the growth curve of NGO proliferation is a good measure of civil-society development’.38 There are of course other important civil society actors including professional, religious, educational and cultural associations as well as, not least, political parties in their societal


capacity at the grass roots (although the Soros Foundation has provided significant support to some of these other actors). Clearly, this somewhat narrow interpretation of civil society in most cases is bureaucratically convenient, for NGOs provide a tangible entity and one often managed by ‘Westernised’ personnel in CEE. For the European Commission, there is the added advantage in seeing NGOs as relevant to the implementation of the acquis communautaire in areas where accession governments were not sufficiently active.39 Commission thinking of this kind is reflected in the operative principle of the PHARE Democracy Programme that NGO assistance does not have to be approved by governments of recipient countries.40 This is useful with countries like Meeiar’s Slovakia where governments are reserved or hostile towards European political standards. The evaluation report on PHARE encapsulated the argument about the operational value of the EU’s credibility: The high visibility of the programme as well as seminars, round tables and conferences aimed at explaining and promoting the programme also contributes to the visibility of the European Union. In every country the importance of the EU label was emphasised for a number of reasons. First of all, the EU label adds to the prestige of the project. It is a kind of stamp of legitimacy which helps to attract funding and other kind of support. In Poland particularly, it was argued that the EU label greatly increases the credibility of the NGO sector. In all countries but especially in those countries with an authoritarian past, there is a tendency for the elites to dismiss citizen groups as unserious and not worth listening to. Democracy is understood in formal terms and citizen groups are often considered a nuisance interfering in the normal parliamentary processes. Support from the EU helps to change those attitudes which is an important element in the evolving political culture. Secondly, the EU label offers a form of protection in countries with authoritarian tendencies. This has been very important in Romania before the 1996 elections, in Slovakia, in Belarus and in Kazakhstan. In Belarus, the government has tried to interfere in the NGO sector particularly as regards youth organisations and humanitarian organisations and has actually succeeded in closing down the Soros Foundation. But it has not been able to interfere with EU funded projects … Thirdly, and very importantly, the PTDP [Phare and Tacis Democracy Programme] offers a signal about the character of the EU – its values and goals. The PTDP is probably more visible at a local community level than other EU programmes. The fact that it is independent of the government and that it is clearly seen to support civic activities helps to popularise the EU as a democratic, multicultural organisation (even though this is sometimes offset by the negative image resulting from bad experiences with contracts and payments).41


The PHARE Democracy Programme was driven in top-down fashion from Brussels through bureaucratic management and political push. However, the direct involvement in planning of societal and local actors, bypassing accession governments, was a healthy gesture towards bottom-up approaches. Furthermore, PHARE projects promoted cooperation and networking among agreed partners in different countries in both parts of Europe. Projects for Slovakia in 1996 included one for the defence and promotion of trade union rights in CEE – where the lead organisation was the International Confederation of Free Trade Unions (ICFTU) with partners in the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, Bulgaria and Romania – and one for improving democratic mechanisms in the Slovak Syndicate of Journalists, with partners in Austria and Belgium.42 Nevertheless, whatever its merits and significance, the PHARE Programme was based on restricted financial resources by international standards. This also reflected the fairly limited role of the EU with respect to NGOs generally during the accession period, certainly when compared with other international assistance they received. NGOs in CEE have in this period depended considerably on international funding for their activity and indeed survival – in Latvia’s case, this amounted to 80 per cent of their total funding – but the EU provided only a small amount of this. In Slovakia, a case of strong NGO development, much more funding and assistance came from US sources than the EU institutions, although some EU member state embassies in Bratislava were also helpful as were the German political foundations. The Dutch Embassy, for example, gave funds for projects on the Roma, marginal groups, social services and the media and information systems. US donors were also preferred by many Slovak NGOs because their approach was seen as more flexible than the slow, somewhat heavily bureaucratic procedures of Brussels.43 Nevertheless, the Commission provided welcome extra funding of 100,000 Euros under its communications strategy to Slovak NGOs to promote turnout in the parliamentary election of 2002. While the Commission does not engage directly in party politics, this support was recognised as having an indirect political purpose for low turnout had traditionally favoured Meeiar’s party over others. This was combined with separate messages emanating from Brussels (and the USA) that voting the reformist government of Dzurinda out of power could endanger the forthcoming invitations to join the EU and North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO).44 Slovakia was rather exceptional in CEE in a number of ways. Its NGOs were decidedly political due mainly to domestic developments surrounding Meeiar’s rule and the anxious polarisation this engendered in Slovak society. They filled a necessary political space and in doing so linked up with oppositional elites.45 What, however, explained the success of international assistance to Slovak NGOs was the combination of this domestic environment of political crisis, the proactive approach of politically versatile NGO leaders and their talent for transnational networking as well as the pressure from international actors who proved highly professional in their way of


operating.46 It was therefore this complementarity of roles that proved so effective there that eventually became something of a model for other CEECs at a later stage in post-Communist democratisation. In particular, lessons from the successful NGO role in the Slovak election of 1998, when turnout increased by more than 8 per cent, were used the following year for elections in Croatia and Ukraine; while in the autumn of 2000 Slovak expertise was employed in NGO activiy in Serbia in mobilising public support against Milosevic leading to his downfall.47 A whole range of international actors had been involved in helping Slovak NGOs in the 1998 election but few of them actually came from the EU, although some PHARE money was available and two member states gave some funds.48 The other special feature of the Slovak NGO world, reflecting again its political inclinations, was its strong espousal of EU and NATO membership. In fact, no NGOs in Slovakia were against joining either organisation unlike in Slovenia, for instance, where some important NGOs were anti-NATO. The reasons were again their politicisation in the defence of Slovak democracy against Meeiar in the mid-1990s and the fact that many Western-educated young people were in charge of some of these NGOs, especially think-tanks. As a result, according to Pavol Demes, director for CEE of the German Marshall Fund of the US, NGOs in Slovakia were ‘very good messengers of European values and European integration in particular … the best advocates for EU accession’.49 By comparison, NGOs in the Czech Republic were not so active politically, concentrating rather on social and educational matters as was also the case in Hungary, while in Romania there lacked a critical mass of NGOs – due to a slow learning of civic engagement – as a starting point for civil society activity.50 But no national NGO world was exclusively concerned with European integration, even in Slovakia where they have for instance cooperated with local governments as in some other CEECs. Moreover, once Slovak NGOs ceased to be a largely urban phenomenon and spread throughout the country in the mid-1990s they came to play an important part in civic awareness at the local level.51 In some countries, as Bulgaria, NGO involvement in EU affairs started late.52 It was therefore not surprising that NGOs did not make much progress with Europeanising their networks, although as with interest groups there was some cross-national variation. Polish NGOs, especially the large ones, were more advanced than most in this respect due to their strategic sense and capacity for research and they already had their own representation in Brussels by the end of the accession period.53 But NGOs in CEE as a whole had not made much progress in this direction by this time including those in the vibrant Slovak third sector.54 Apart from their intrinsic slowness, influenced by a concern to concentrate on civil society in these still new democracies, they were also short of the necessary funding, indeed more so than many interest groups. But, the likelihood is that this incipient pattern of Europeanisation of links will continue and really develop more after EU membership starts.


There was a similar parallel as to NGO involvement in membership negotiations of their countries. As with interest groups, there was quite some cross-national variation not least because in some cases NGOs worked alongside economic interests and other representatives in the relevant bodies, like the Consultative Committee in Slovakia. One Slovak NGO leader involved in some of the working groups under this structure saw this as positive but remarked on the enormous pressure created by the negotiations: ‘the timing is terrible; the amount of legislation is more than terrible’.55 In Bulgaria, negotiations from early 2000 saw an increased interest on the part of NGOs with regard to accession business in that country and they were invited by the government for consultation where relevant, this leading to a growth in contacts between NGOs and the state.56 Certain key ministries in Sofia established regular cooperation with relevant NGOs for the purpose of the negotiations. The Ministry of Environment, for example, was by autumn 2001 constantly working with environmental NGOs, with representatives of 20 of the largest (out of 300 active on the environment) in a working group which discussed the harmonisation of legislation. Certainly, such consultation with environmental groups intensified as a result of negotiations, although the quality of discussion was not regarded as high in the ministry and sometimes it became polemical on the bigger issues.57 Environmental NGOs were generally among the most active in contacts with accession governments. Even in Romania, where consultation with groups was not well developed, the Chief Negotiator found environmental NGOs provided useful analyses on such matters as energy policy and specific cases of environmental monitoring (e.g. over the failure of the city government in Constant¸a to implement the EU directive on this question).58 Another practice that developed during membership talks was direct contacts made by NGOs with the EU delegation offices in CEECs, although this tended to be ad hoc. It did of course offer an easier and much less expensive, albeit more limited, means of establishing direct EU institutional contact than lobbying in Brussels. In Latvia, few NGOs had a direct link with Brussels but the well-known Human Rights Centre relied on contact with the European Commission office and EU member state embassies as well as working closely with the OSCE mission in Riga. However, the head of this Centre did not advertise these European contacts publicly as ‘international pressure was resented by the Latvian public’.59 Contact was invariably about special issues, with groups rather than the EU delegation taking the initiative although the latter was usually keen on such contact as a source of useful information. In Romania, it was noted by one member of the EU delegation: ‘we constantly take note of civil society – NGOs etc.’. The motive on the part of NGOs was often, he noted, to put pressure on the national government to go ahead with changes, as in the Romanian case over child protection and liberalising the penal code on homosexuality.60


As a whole, in CEE, NGO involvement in European integration is a new development held back by general problems of civil society in post-Communist Europe. Undoubtedly, membership negotiations have been the main stimulant to this development although the degree to which it has happened has varied considerably between accession countries – partly because it has been also dependent on the openness to consultation of national governments – but also between sectors. It follows that, as with economic interests, NGO impacts on the policy content of membership negotiations has been limited but also rather uneven as far as the different EU chapters are concerned. This discussion is taken further by looking at two concrete examples – namely, corruption (one of the political conditions) and the environment (one of the major and most complicated of these chapters). Although pressure from the Commission has had a major impact on legal and institutional frameworks in the fight against corruption, its influence on policy follow-up in accession countries has been limited. Nevertheless, the Commission’s progress reports encouraged some debate especially in the media and after a while this increased public awareness, while other international actors like TI and the OSI – not to mention nagging pressure from some EU member state governments – contributed to this laborious opening up of the issue. It is in this gradually changing context that one should judge the activity of NGOs on this issue. In Slovakia, real improvements over the accession period since TI was established there in 1998 were primarily due to NGO interactions with the government. But this owed much to the energy of the Slovak NGO world, compared for instance with Hungary where the NGOs were less developed and people were reluctant to open up about corruption under the Orbán Government.61 In Romania, the severe problems of corruption are due to their rootedness; but the strong weakness of the NGO world in that country does not help.62 In other words, NGO possibilities over corruption depend partly on the more favourable environment created by EU accession but also, crucially, on the vitality of NGOs together with public receptiveness. Clearly, it is a long process and, significantly, the European Commission sees NGOs as playing a vital part in the future over fighting corruption in the new member states from CEE in conjunction with continuing pressure from international organisations.63 Similar thinking is found on the part of some NGOs too. In Latvia, the head of the Human Rights Centre said their planning strategy was focussed on the changed situation once accession occurred. He was aware that the political elite there wanted above all to join the EU and that democratic conditionality would ‘end soon’ and so pressure on the government to maintain its record here would have to come from NGOs using new legal tools.64 Some scepticism was however felt by one NGO leader (and former minister) in Latvia about this new scenario for political monitoring actually working with driving forward anti-corruption not least because of the shortage of funds for this kind of task.65


There is indeed some truth in the argument that the success of European integration ultimately depends on NGOs and civil society involvement.66 In terms of the depth of integration impacts, it is obvious that it is not just public awareness that may in some diffuse way cause some pressure but rather organised and focussed pressure which is issue-oriented. Seen diachronically, there have been major advances in environmental policy-making since 1989, before when this received a low priority compared with overriding economic policy dictates and Communist rule concealed environmental pollution. The opening up on this issue with the coming of democracy has undoubtedly created a better political atmosphere for the discussion of environmental issues, notably in the media (for Green political parties are generally weak in CEE). In this new context, environmental NGOs have emerged and in some accession states such as Estonia they have played a significant part in helping to push through strategies of sustainable development.67 As a whole, environmental groups tended to be among the most active NGOs in CEE and even had some influence over government policy in Romania where generally civil society was still rather weak.68 This difference from most other NGOs owed something to the fact that the environmental cause had been written into the protest factor that contributed to the fall of Communism in some countries in the region. While the environment subsided as a policy priority after 1989, due to the predominant concerns of economic transformation, this experience nevertheless contributed to the evolution of environmental activism. In Slovakia, environmental groups benefited from dissent before 1989 as well as the politicisation of NGO activity there from the mid1990s and generally featured strong advocacy skills and commitment.69 But, as the environmental area shows, it is not always a straightforward matter of such bottom-up pressure complementing the top-down demands from Brussels. Various factors have tended to restrict the scope for environmental groups to mobilise and take advantage of the accession process which has, among many other issues, highlighted environmental standards. First, there are policy conflict problems emanating from Brussels itself deriving from the dual concerns of developmental projects on the one hand and environmental standards on the other. The Via Baltica, planned to run all the way from Warsaw to Helsinki, has been funded by the EU as one of its star projects for the European transport network for accession countries; but there were conflicts with several environmental interests including preserving the Biebrza National Park in Poland, designated a wetland of international significance. Villages and local governments in the area have been much engaged in the issue and there is a clear polarisation there between interests linked to having the motorway and conservationist pressures.70 A similar case has arisen in the Czech Republic over the construction of the new D8 motorway connecting Prague with Dresden. This is being funded jointly by the EU and the European Investment Bank, but it cuts through the Eastern Ore


Mountains Nature Park on the Czech-German Border. Several Czech NGOs filed an official complaint to the European Commission, arguing that the motorway would destroy several bird reservation sites and so conflict with the EU habitats directive and demanding that alternatives be investigated.71 Second, there are also problems of environmental policy priority at the national level in the accession countries and these affect the scope for NGOs. The difficulty is long-standing in the sense that from 1989 economic transformation became the superior task and inevitably overshadowed environmental concerns notwithstanding the severe degradation left by Communist rule. Inevitably, governments have been accused by environmental groups of ignoring the environment although this is not strictly true as some useful legislation has been passed.72 In Poland, the forerunner of economic shock therapy after Communism ended, it was noted more than a decade later by an environmental expert at Warsaw University: ‘In Poland, environmental protection is still considered a luxury; but both politicians and voters must change their way of thinking and begin to understand that environmental protection is important both for the quality of life and for economic development.’ Third, there are various problems facing the implementation of European legislation which are usually familiar to member states. While the CEE accession countries have negotiated transition periods in several environmental areas, they are still relatively new to the whole elaborate business of setting up the necessary infrastructure for ensuring environmental standards. But there has been some European money to assist with this. In autumn 2002, Bulgaria for example set up an environmental monitoring system under the PHARE Programme.73 Altogether, environmental NGOs are looking to EU programmes for improving environmental protection once their countries become member states. But there is one problem that has already made its presence felt and will continue to do so given these countries are relatively poor in European terms; and that is the problem of environmental costs. For example, there are very few firms in Poland that deal in environmental technology which will require enormous investment.74 The CEECs basically lack the resources for ensuring that EU environmental laws are respected. An audit of twinning schemes showed up the limited financial and administrative means of their environment ministries, this not being helped by a brain drain of underpaid environment officials leaving their ministries for more lucrative jobs in the private sector. And, yet, the CEECs are required to put into effect some 140 EU directives on issues from water quality to industrial pollution control. Moreover, it is estimated that they (including Bulgaria and Romania which plan to join in 2007) will have to spend up to 110 billion Euros over a decade on carrying into effect the whole corpus of European environmental legislation.75 It is not surprising that these countries are looking to increased EU funding under the cohesion and structural funds after they became member states; but even that will not be enough to meet the total of costs envisaged.76


In this situation, environmental NGOs face an enormous constraint on their possibilities for policy influence on national governments in CEE which are burdened by severe budgetary problems. At the same time, there is likely to be more differentiation between environmental sectors, some being far more costly than others when implementing European directives. The most visible sector has been that of nuclear power because of political controversy over old-fashioned reactors usually driven by EU member states concerned at the geographically close threat they present. EU money has been decisive for meeting the cost of decommissioning these reactors. In such cases, environmental NGOs in accession states have had their work done for them. Much therefore depends on the international salience of NGO causes which then allows pressure groups in CEECs to apply their talent and take advantage of outside assistance. One area where this has been evident is that of human rights where transnational networks are well developed and where the EU has alongside other international organisations come to adopt the human rights discourse increasingly in the 1990s.77 But the EU’s impact so far has tended to be much more apparent in design than in practice – which repeats the story of other areas of the socio-economic arena in accession countries. Persuading post-Communist countries to adopt legal and institutional frameworks for human rights is one thing; but getting them to change mentalities and political culture in this respect is far harder. Conflicting values, very limited public understanding of and support for the human rights discourse and, in some CEECs, the incidence of nationalism all serve to inhibit movement in that direction and the internalisation of these – for such societies – very new values.78 In Slovakia, this problem was identified in a report on progress during 2001 which concluded that that country met its formal obligations as a member of the EU and other organisations like the OSCE and the Council of Europe but that on the scope and quality of human rights Slovakia’s performance in this new respect is uneven. In some human rights areas it is below the European norm, while in others it ignores the human rights of groups that have full protection in other European countries (e.g. homosexuals). Slovakia is also behind in human rights education. Unless the country responds to shifting international trends by focussing more on the nuts and bolts of rights protection, it will win increasingly unfavourable evaluations of its approach to human rights.79 A year later, the annual report from the same source emphasised the importance of informal indicators of how people viewed the human rights situation in that country: Through their everyday experiences, citizens test official guarantees of their human rights; what really matters to them is not the often remote human rights standards of European bodies, but rather their own feeling


of security and confidence in domestic human rights guarantees. These subjective impressions, in all their complexity, may be understood as the level of human rights culture that has been achieved in Slovakia. They may also be understood as expressing dissatisfaction with that culture, and with the country’s sometimes purely formal fulfilment of human rights norms.80 There is obviously much scope here for NGO activity given the gap between the new international rhetoric and mundane reality on the ground in postCommunist Europe. Human rights NGOs tend to be among the more active like environmental ones, and they have some access to government ministries with scope for policy influence. In Latvia, the Human Rights Centre developed a cooperative relationship with the Ministries of Justice and of Foreign Affairs in Riga as its way of securing improvements.81 This approach of becoming a semi-official body was probably wise in a country where nationalist feelings over minorities made the situation still somewhat fragile. In the post-Communist countries, semi-official NGOs are often the best financed whereas in some areas – notably, the environmental – NGO strategy is perhaps better geared to public mobilisation. But for that groups need both independent (i.e. non-official) resources and a receptive public. By comparison, issues of human rights can be divisive especially when it comes to minority rights. It is in this respect that the EU together with other international organisations plays such a vital part. Left alone, governments in the new democracies of CEE might well have opted for less policy action if only because they ran some loss of popularity and electoral support. In such a hypothetical vacuum, active NGOs would not have found a very sympathetic hearing; but the existence of and sustained public pressure from the EU has made a decisive difference. It has to do up to a point with the EU’s credibility but that is far from enough. EU legislation and statements on minority rights outlawing discrimination – and here the European Parliament carries a special influence – are an important reference point for political elites and of course NGOs; but even more telling is the dynamic of the accession process. The Open Society Institute (OSI) has on some occasions been rather critical of the European Commission’s monitoring methods in the annual progress reports. Nevertheless, it has acknowledged that in general ‘the accession process holds great potential to serve as a catalyst for further advances in the area of minority protection throughout Europe’. This was noticeably true of the Baltic republics once the move towards accession to the EU replaced the previous dynamic set by independence which had involved the restitution of prewar citizenship policies which were restrictive. In the Latvian case, at least, a vital factor proved to be a sharp learning curve and a sense of conviction over human rights among enough of the political elite, which internationally oriented and in unofficial alliance with international actors


(including human rights organisations) and Latvian NGOs, managed to win over others to liberalising legislation in conformity with relatively high European standards.82 However, the OSI also noted, in reference to CEE accession countries as a whole, ‘the difficulty candidate governments have had in marshalling political will on behalf of sometimes unpopular reforms; and the failure of official bodies generally to harness the human and technical resources available in civil society organisations’. There is clearly much work to be done for opening up possibilities for NGO activity. The one area of minority rights that has proved very difficult to move along the road of improvement has been that of the Roma in virtually every accession country where they exist in significant numbers. But it has been the EU that has above all driven this issue by combining high political pressure with concrete assistance. NGOs working in this field certainly appreciate EU financial assistance acknowledging that there can be local improvements with relatively small amounts of money.83 But the difficulties facing any solution are considerable and are essentially threefold. They tend to demonstrate that, while NGO activity may indeed be effective at the local level, the scope for their making a general difference is very restricted. First, the Roma situation is fundamentally – though not exclusively – one of severe socio-economic deprivation, brought about in part after the collapse of Communism by their virtually absolute lack of marketable skills. It is therefore not a more simple matter of protecting human rights but of lifting the Roma up out of a state where this deprivation leads to rising involvement in crimes, prostitution and fraud. Second, prejudice against the Roma is widespread in CEECs. As the OSI report noted, ‘opinion polls regularly document the depths to which anti-Roma sentiment penetrates’ with some political leaders voicing rather than condemning such anti-minority viewpoints.84 In the Czech Republic, this attitude has been described as a ‘political culture of “colour blindness”, in which officials and citizens claim to be neutral but practise forms of discrimination and separation based on racist assumptions’.85 Third, there is a lack of political commitment by national governments which is only just below the surface. Sometimes, governments have made valiant gestures as when Bulgaria announced in 1999 a programme for equal integration of the Roma although this was not followed by action.86 In addition, there is a complexity of policy-making involving local governments also. In Romania, there were some more progressive local authorities that employed special advisers on Roma problems.87 However, there was very little development in CEE of local governments setting up direct links with the EU in Brussels; and, in any case, on Roma matters they had to operate via national governments. Fourth, the Roma themselves were not very versed in making their own political representation effective. In Slovakia, for example, this is highly fragmented with some 17 different Roma parties. There was nothing like the


concentrated political action of other minorities through the medium of one well-run political party as with the Hungarians in Romania and Slovakia and the Turks in Bulgaria. Political engagement is discouraged by a certain passivity and fatalism about their condition but there are also cultural problems. In Bulgaria, it was noted that ‘the Roma tend to manifest the highest reliance on the state among the ethnic communities’ in that country. They featured widespread expectations that ‘the state should take care of them’ with more than two-thirds sharing the extreme form of that conviction.88 All of these factors made for a political and social environment in which NGO activity found itself operating on fairly stony ground. EU pressure together with focussed NGO activism proved not enough to eradicate the basic problem set by the Roma situation; but that in itself was indicative. It showed that any alliance between top-down European integration activity and bottom-up NGO work had also to rely on the intermediary agent of national governments when the problem was deep-set and when public opinion was so unfavourable. The dynamic between political elites and political culture was clearly a negative one in the area of the Roma; whereas in other areas of civic engagement like the environment and corruption public interest was more easily aroused to action; and, so accordingly, the possibilities for combined top-down and bottom-up pressures were much greater (although in the case of corruption complicated by political elite involvement). Altogether, there have in the accession process been some significant initial developments with regard to civil society and NGOs even though, generally, civil society has continued to display serious weaknesses in CEE. They include first efforts at establishing European links as well as some ad hoc involvement in the negotiations. Clearly, the momentum from the latter has provided the most important stimulus to such changes, although the effects have been rather uneven between the many different areas of civil society engagement. As shown, the limits for impacts by the EU have been considerable at least in the accession period notwithstanding parallel support for NGO development from other international organisations and agencies.

6.4

Deepening democracy in accession countries?

This analysis of the socio-economic arena in the accession countries of Central & Eastern Europe has shown some positive signs of change; but also many problems that have surfaced in the context of European integration. It is possible to say that the latter has begun to provide a positive influence in this arena if not a necessary antidote to less comfortable features of these post-Communist countries, including occult economic activity and corruption as well as environmental degradation and ethnic intolerance. The EU is undoubtedly a force for improving the quality of life and for social


integration; although as shown in this chapter its effects have come late. The best message is about a more hopeful future than the largely disappointing present and recent past. In the area of social or civil problems at least so much of the discussion has demonstrated that, with minimal progress so far, much remains to be achieved following rather than prior to EU membership. That in turn raises the question about the continuing effects of democratic conditionality once the EU leverage weakens or even disappears now that, with accession, CEECs have achieved what they aimed at with their ‘return to Europe’. Will early membership see a lessening of conditionality’s effects; or will the sustained pressure that operated from Brussels during the accession period have some lasting effects? Here, some clues have arisen from this analysis. The EU’s monitoring system officially ceases and political pressure over democratic quality in CEECs cannot be as strong notwithstanding provisions for safeguarding this in the Amsterdam Treaty and the EU Constitution. Nevertheless, some patterns – those described as incipient – become more important, such as indications from both European Commission and NGO circles that civil society engagement is going to be a vital factor. Of course, this remains to be seen; but one additional influence may continue to be public exposure of lapses in conditionality observation where the media as well as NGOs could play an important joint part. In other words, the signs are that, following this intense period during membership negotiations of Europeanising pressures, the baton will be passed more to domestic actors. That naturally places an onus on the state of democratisation in these CEECs following their success in moving into the EU as new member states. In that respect, the societal effects of integration, limited as they have been, have begun to contribute towards the underpinning of democratic politics in these post-Communist countries. At the same time, it should be pointed out that, somewhat by contrast, EU accession has in the area of economic transformation been a force indeed for serious change. However, it is one that in the short or medium term has with some cross-national variation somewhat acerbated the severe domestic effects of this process and therefore indirectly enhanced social tension which arises from rapid economic change. But the linkage between the EU here and the already advanced process of economic transformation was hardly noticed outside policy circles in these candidate countries. The marked gap between perception and reality proved in this area to be an advantage for EU accession. However, economic frustrations may grow in the years to come; and, this could produce some disillusionment with being in the EU among the new member states; but by then they are likely to be more secure as relatively new democracies. Finally, it has to be said as a way of putting the discussion of the socioeconomic arena into a wider perspective that the kind of problems discussed in this chapter have a pre-history as far as European integration is concerned (in the sense of integration beginning to have a serious impact on these


countries). That is, the weaknesses of civil society in CEE are a legacy from the force of Communist rule; while economic transformation had already been embarked upon before the EU began to embrace the young postCommunist democracies as prospective member states. In other words, the EU cannot be expected to solve these problems alone or in any relatively short period of time such as represented by the accession process. The main concern is that its limited impact so far should have set the CEECs in the right direction; and, the tentative indications so far are that this has in fact happened. The prospects for European integration helping to legitimate the new democracies of CEE are still there but that is a task for the enlarged EU with the other half of Europe joining with the existing member states of Western Europe.

Conclusion: Europeanisation and Democratisation – Convergent, Parallel or Conflicting Processes?

The period since the early 1990s has proved to be a new era in democratic conditionality (DC) across the world. A wide range of different international organisations and agencies have adopted or developed it further. And there is the influential role played by some of these organisations but also international non-governmental organisations (NGOs) in promoting and assisting democracy in countries where it has emerged after dictatorial rule or has remained fragile. DC has therefore come of age as a mechanism for influencing political developments in such countries. It previously existed but its use was much less widespread and its methods much less elaborate. The EU and the candidate countries from post-Communist Europe have been at the centre of this phenomenon. This development has occurred essentially since the end of the Cold War which made it easier for international powers to give attention to democratic standards rather than to supporting ideologically loyal regimes some with dubious democratic credentials. At the same time, other tendencies in this period have also furthered the possibilities for democratic conditionality, including the burgeoning international discourse of human rights and the new, albeit somewhat controversial, ethos of international intervention against dictatorial regimes and over humanitarian crises. All this has happened against the background of advances in new technology and the rise of global actors with their internationalising effects. The new democracies of Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) have indeed emerged in a very interdependent world where international and transnational networks for multilateral cooperation are in the forefront of change. Some predict that this most recent ‘wave’ of democratisation, of a magnitude unprecedented, will run its course and perhaps even witness some democratic inversion with some turning back of the wave. Regime change has indeed led so far to certain doubtful cases of democracy or additions to the group of ‘hybrid regimes’ where this outcome may either harden or with 219


instability persisting lead to a second stage of regime change or even reborn transitions to democracy. Much of course depends on what is understood by ‘democracy’; and it is here that defining democratic standards by credible international organisations is important. In this period since the early 1990s one salient feature of DC has been its growing attention to substantive or qualitative and not just formal criteria for liberal democracy. That obviously puts the spotlight on those cases of democratisation that are ambiguous. At the same time, regional environments matter much in the spread of liberal democracy despite post-dictatorial regime change becoming a global phenomenon. Their importance is hinted at by such concepts on international influences in regime change as ‘contagion’, perhaps ‘demonstration effect’ and probably ‘diffusion’ and ‘emulation’. Regional environments provide a powerful encircling influence particularly if they consist largely of established or even recently consolidated democracies or where there is a distinct trend in recent times of structural factors, circumstances or contingencies which favour new democracies. Apart from national governments which might seek to promote democratic transitions in line with their own interests within a region, there are semi-visible and often persuasive bilateral links as well as all kinds of cross-border activities and influences that may come into play (and represent a more concrete variation of ‘contagion’). Additionally, regional organisations may exercise an immense influence over regime change depending though on their own ambitions and the attractions they offer to the countries in question. Of all the regions in the world, it is Europe that most boasts such an environment. Europe has not been the heartland of successful liberal democracies for such a long time in the span of history, given the interwar period when the trend was towards Fascist or authoritarian regimes. But since 1945 it has increasingly become so especially after the consolidation of the now 30-year old democracies in Southern Europe and dramatically in recent years with the historic shift to the democratic model following the collapse of Communist rule in Europe a decade and a half ago. Europe has benefited during post-Communist regime change from a variety of regional organisations like the Council of Europe (COE), the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) and North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) – all of which practise their own versions of DC – not to mention non-regional international organisations (like the International Financial Institutions [IFIs]), the USA, private foundations (notably Soros) and of course international non-governmental organisations (NGOs). But, of all these outside actors that have contributed towards furthering democratic consolidation in CEE, the EU has been the most visible, prestigious, ambitious, articulated and influential. It is institutionally the closest there is to a European political system and it is accompanied by an enormous and complex set of transnational networks. Most of all, its offer of membership with all its opportunities for policy influence and welcome resources (especially

Conclusion 221

welcome for poor countries in CEE) is the most prized objective for European states seeking to put their international isolation behind them. For small countries especially, these opportunities are really compelling; and, CEE consists very largely of small countries by European standards. This superior influence of the EU points to the main conclusion of this study. EU pressures over, national responses to and general possibilities for implementing and also complying with DC have to be seen within the context of movement and progress in the accession process. It was the dynamics of enlargement and the promise of actual accession that actuated the post-Communist new democracies to agree unquestioningly with the political conditions of Brussels and to pursue them assiduously. And, yet, the status of these conditions changed especially between the phase of prenegotiations, when their observance was crucial to receiving an invitation to negotiate, and the following phase of actual negotiations. During the latter, the conditions continued to be monitored annually but, with some notable exceptions, were rarely used to threaten an end to such talks. This unrelenting procedure again distinguishes the EU from other regional organisations where acquiring membership is not nearly such an elaborate, lengthy and testing business and where DC is not exercised in such a strict way. Indeed, with the Council of Europe it has been applied much less rigidly in the form of preconditions for membership with its expectations that reforms will be implemented subsequently. These dynamics have been examined in this study in terms of push/pull effects of the EU – that is, push over conditionality and pull in terms of the promise of eventual membership. These effects are set within the overall process of convergence towards European integration by applicant and candidate countries. This may take various forms, including the commercial and economic, with possible indirect influences on political attitudes. At the same time, push and pull effects may be evident on the part of prospective member states in the sense of pushing for an invitation to negotiate (and thus making extra efforts to satisfy the political conditions) as well as eventually for accession to take place. Pull effects may be seen in the case of negotiating governments trying to win over support and opinion on the domestic front. The attraction of EU membership and of negotiations succeeding is a powerful incentive. National governments perform a difficult balancing role between coping with the devil in the detail of the EU’s chapters and avoiding disaster in the deep blue maelstrom of domestic politics. In other words, there is also a within-country dynamics that is clearly affected by the ongoing dynamics between the European and national-governmental levels. Serious setbacks in enlargement would have run the risk of the process perhaps unwinding on both fronts, so that it was above all movement that counted and this helped much in carrying forward persistence with satisfying the EU’s (ever more elaborate) political conditions originally presented as the Copenhagen criteria in 1993 which simply stated that candidate countries


needed to achieve ‘stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities’. This interactive approach in explaining the course of democratic conditionality leads us to consider the question of the scope for as well as the limitations on the EU’s influence here. This starts with contesting the assumption in earlier work on the domestic politics of European integration that it has been the logic of national decision-making that has held sway over the dictates of integration. This study questions that assumption, not least because of the considerable expansion of policy concerns but also of political weight of Brussels over the past two decades. This makes the EU of the 1990s and beyond very different from its predecessor the European Community (EC) during the time of the Southern enlargement. The EU therefore carries far more push and pull potential because of these changes and this we term confining conditions. Furthermore, as frequently noted during the accession of CEE, negotiations for membership were distinctly asymmetrical and so the political ball was largely in the EU’s court and that went too for conditionality. The accession process was rather top-down and elite-driven whether from Brussels or from the various CEE national capitals; but, all the same, the push/pull dynamics were invariably complicated by domestic factors even though the accession process ended successfully in the achievement of membership in May 2004. The prospects for the EU’s political conditions depended much on the commitment of national governments to accession for their countries. Their motivation was therefore a sine qua non – their pull towards the EU, as it were – and this is examined in Chapter 3 with reference to the four imperatives. From this, it emerges that the democratising imperative is by no means exclusive nor necessarily dominant although it was widespread as indeed it had been with the previous enlargement of the 1980s that brought in new democracies from Southern Europe. But, this time with CEE, acceding countries were not just undergoing political change but also crucially economic transformation. It is also clear from the evidence that political elites in CEE hardly developed their own ideas about democratic development and were seemingly content with embracing the EU version effected by means of bureaucratic incrementalism (although some politicians from CEE expressed at times a quiet frustration with the relentless approach of the European Commission on this matter). But these elites especially if in government chose not to question conditionality for they saw it as a necessary route into the EU. In other words, it was treated strategically so that sometimes attitudes towards the political conditions were rather instrumental. This did not have to matter if in the end these conditions, when implemented, promoted the quality and consolidation of the new postCommunist democracies. Clearly, national governments played a crucial role in the observance and the implementation of DC. If they wavered in their commitment to integration then this could well be reflected over democratic standards, as was famously shown in the case of the Meeiar Government in Slovakia.

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However, political figures or parties with reservations about integration and/or the EU’s conditionality generally chose not to make an overt issue of this as the alternatives lacked credibility. Furthermore, as was often the case, strong public support for accession eventually tended to caution most politicians who were nationalist-inclined. Otherwise, carrying through the EU’s political conditions ran into problems of not so much political will as political capacity as the case of Romania in particular demonstrated. The management of government was at times decisive in pushing through conditionality although, as Chapter 4 shows, reform of the state machine under accession demands was limited and then not of a root-and-branch kind. Looking more closely at the domestic scene, intermediary actors are obviously important in transmitting the European option more meaningfully to domestic audiences in parallel with the activity of governments burdened with the business of negotiations. As Chapters 5 and 6 shows, both political parties and the media – though to a significantly lesser extent economic interests and NGOs – were sucked into the accession process once negotiations started if only by the need to keep abreast with developments and acquire EU expertise. At the same time, none of these actors were really direct proponents of DC well informed though they tended to be. The media did give intermittent attention to this matter, usually following the Commission’s annual monitoring reports; some NGOs were indeed active on conditionality’s behalf at least in those areas in which they were engaged; while public opinion remained largely ignorant of what conditionality entailed except when a few of the conditions became controversial or overexposed (although, as over corruption of which publics were only too aware, it did not always follow that they made a connection with the demands of Brussels). On the other hand, political parties were in their own area of activity already well networked transnationally with their European party equivalents which, very relevantly, operated their own form of DC for aspiring member parties. Since the Commission chose not to include parties among its political conditions – indeed, its relations with parties in Central and Eastern European Countries (CEECs) were usually guarded – transnational party cooperation provided a vital parallel channel for furthering democratic standards in the party systems of these new democracies. Similar transnational networking was much less evident on the part of economic interests and national NGOs, although there were some signs of developments in this direction with prospects for more progress once these countries became member states. Ultimately, socio-economic actors and civil society came into play over compliance with conditionality but this was quite variable between the different political conditions set by the EU. It was obviously less true of institutional conditions (‘stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy’) but rather applicable to such conditions as fighting corruption and especially protecting human and minority rights. But this identified the main weakness of these new post-Communist democracies which was their underdevelopment


at the level of civil society. While the EU favoured NGO development as through its PHARE Programme, it encountered considerable limitations on its influence at the socio-economic level in the face of rooted problems and legacies from the past. As a whole, the scope for EU influence over conditionality has grown over time and, given its leverage over CEE candidate countries bent on joining, this influence was immense so long as membership remained a promise and increasingly probable. The limitations on EU influence have come especially with the Commission’s dependence on the will and capacity of accession governments but they are also evident when looking at and comparing the different levels of political systems in the new democracies. As one would expect, conditionality matters cut far more ice with political elites – especially those holding government responsibility – than they do either at the intermediary level of the political arena or in the socio-economic arena. This may reflect simply the relative brevity of direct integration experience for these countries although – remembering some similar patterns in established member states – it also suggests a lack of depth to conditionality impacts. The relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation is shown to have been a largely positive one – as originally posited in the academic literature on this subject. One is tempted all the more to agree with this view in the light of EU enlargement in the spring of 2004, since this historical turning-point holds out optimism for the final stage of democratic consolidation in these countries. They are now finally embedded in the Euro-Atlantic structures with all the guarantees, support mechanisms and opportunities these offer for ever closer union, collective decision-making and transnational networking with more established democracies. However, since the purpose of this study has been to focus on DC during the enlargement process, it is necessary to look at how far these two processes were convergent, parallel or conflicting within the accession period. Following the preceding discussion, one tends towards the convergent scenario if only because conditionality has been, as emphasised here, part of the overall convergence process between accession countries and the EU. It does, however, require some qualification because democratic convergence has been incomplete and because of the limitations on EU influence and various domestic realities that have complicated the implementation of if not compliance with the political conditions. Imperfect convergence might be an apt conclusion on democratic conditionality up to 2004. But in fact there are some arguments also for the other two scenarios. There is a certain parallel method in that conditionality ran alongside other integration developments with respect to CEE, including commercial and economic and of course policy-wise through the adoption of European legislation which begins before membership negotiations start under the Europe Agreements. This point is not merely descriptive for its purpose is to

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underline that these different developments – the conditionality one included – may influence each other as they advance; and, it is too easy to assume that they are always positive. There is of course literally a parallel scenario in that the political conditions were monitored annually in parallel to negotiations although there were occasions, notably in Romania’s case, when the two interacted – in fact, ominously over that country’s prospects for making it through to actual EU entry. On questions of parallel processes, it is most important to recall that post-Communist countries have been undergoing different simultaneous transformations in which the EU has had some hand. For the aim of Brussels has been not just to promote stable democratic institutions and the rule of law in CEE but also functioning market economies as well as in a specific way – namely, over minority rights – to influence nation-building and to help steer state-building through the ‘third condition’ of the ‘ability to take on the obligations of membership’. Altogether, this is an enormous agenda reflecting again the ambitions of the EU in the 1990s. But the relevance of this lies in the effects these parallel processes have on each other and in particular how much the EU has affected the course of such interactions. Undoubtedly, the EU has had together with the Council of Europe and the OSCE a positive impact over minority rights in the sense that otherwise progress here would have been slighter not least because of societal if not cultural barriers in the new postCommunist democracies. This outside influence may be seen as furthering political tolerance and social awareness and thus it has been beneficial to democratic consolidation. On the other hand, EU pressure gave added momentum to economic transformation but also thereby enhanced social tensions. These were transmitted into greater political tensions at this troubled point in the accession process which probably inhibited movement towards democratic legitimation, although there is no evidence this problem actually detracted from democratic consolidation. In fact, such political tensions tended to be voiced through alternation in power in a way that did not challenge the consensus over EU membership. So far Europeanisation and democratisation may be seen as more or less complementary when viewed as longer-term processes (here trying not to be too impressed by the fact that enlargement took place in 2004). But in the shorter-term perspective problems have indeed arisen. They may be categorised as increased government overload deriving from the whole burden of managing accession, the inevitable frustrations for decision-makers at least from having to cope with Brussels’ endless demands and, as far as conditionality went, signs of evaluation fatigue especially in the later stages of accession. It must be remembered that other international organisations were applying conditionality pressures at the same time as the EU and that accession governments or some of them were quite regularly put under the whip of the IMF for example. However, these elite frustrations tended not


to be noticed widely outside national capitals and so it is a fair conclusion they did not have serious effects for democratisation at this level. In general, conditionality, whether political or economic, served to speed up developments that might otherwise have occurred – or, perhaps, with some political conditions, not so much or not at all. The questions that then arise are whether conditionality once carried out actually met its stated purpose of better governance or breaking with past practices at other levels of these new democratic systems. All this begins to point somewhat towards a conflicting scenario. It was hypothesised at the outset of this study that integration pressures and effects would not always be positive ones. Negative impacts could also occur notwithstanding the official commitment of Brussels to furthering democratic consolidation in Central & Eastern Europe. The most serious possible conflicting scenario did not in fact happen which was a stalling if not blocking of enlargement with probably detrimental consequences for these still somewhat fragile democracies. However, logically, that would have entailed a possible failure of Europeanisation rather than any impact through its advance. There were nevertheless some aspects of Europeanisation that posed particular problems for democratic consolidation or ones that for a while appeared to do so; but the answer in most cases is to withhold judgement and wait on further developments in early EU membership. First, the bureaucratisation of relations with Brussels could have wider institutional or procedural effects on these still unconsolidated democracies. This concern arose over the sheer immensity of the accession business with these countries having to accommodate the whole acquis communautaire at high speed with insufficient time or effort to consult where necessary. Accession certainly favoured the executive institutions over the parliamentary ones while administrative values were sometimes given a priority over democratic values. There was admittedly little real scope for changing European legislation – which had essentially been drawn up with Western European country preferences in mind – only some flexibility over the timing of its implementation through negotiated transition periods. The bureaucratisation of links and procedures with the EU is inevitable given the experience of previous member states. It remains to be seen how much this really affects the crystallisation of these new democracies as decision-making systems. Political elites in CEE expressed no wish while conducting accession to take issue with the EU’s democratic deficit at least for tactical reasons to do with their overriding priority to achieving membership. The question is whether after enlargement the governments in CEE – comprising nearly a third of the member states – choose to show more interest in these problems of the EU’s functioning as an imperfect type of political system. Some tensions already exist in that certain longer-standing member states, which admittedly did not undergo the strict conditionality imposed on post-Communist states,

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would today fail the test of some of the political conditions. It will therefore be revealing to see how the EU’s DC for current or further candidate countries develops now under the part influence of these new member states from CEE. Second, the pre-existing problem of elite/mass relations and public mistrust towards the political elites in CEECs came into view during the accession process. The fear was this gap of political credibility would worsen with the over-concentration on executive power. The signs up to accession taking place are, however, that this fear was not realised. This was partly because of the fairly high prestige of the EU itself which in some of these countries encouraged a hope that entry to the EU might actually improve public institutions. Furthermore, the wide political consensus on accession in most countries made some impression at the public level, although in some, notably Hungary, there were fierce battles over the terms while in the Czech Republic accession was imbued with a Eurosceptic debate. But, the failure of elite/mass problems to become critical through accession owed much to the ignorance of the national public concerning the realities of European integration and the consequences of membership – save when the media gave occasional attention to such matters. This delay in moving from the abstract to the concrete in understanding the EU but also further likely adjustment problems, especially economic, coming from early membership could well create potential sources of public disquiet and discontent in the years to come. The very low turnout in European elections in CEE in June 2004 – much lower than that still low turnout in the old member states – could be a first indicator of some disillusionment to be. Altogether, these three scenarios convey a more mixed picture than is usually assumed although one definitely on the positive side. In the end, the crucial question is whether the relationship between Europeanisation and democratisation acquired a positive or a negative dynamics for then, whatever the problems along the way, if they are positive then the outlook should encourage optimism. Some features of the accession process may have inhibited or even slowed down the prospects for democratic consolidation in CEE, but by and large the EU’s influence both directly through its conditionality and indirectly through the closer engagement of these new democracies with integration matters has pointed towards reinforcing and promoting consolidation there. It has to be remembered that democratisation in post-Communist countries commenced before the EU impacted politically in these different ways and that the course taken by them in regime change in the earlier 1990s had a constraining effect on the EU influence. Democratisation paths developed, constitutional agreements were reached and the formal structures of these new democracies were created at that time. Hence, the focus of EU conditionality was on ensuring that democratic institutions were really accountable and stable (which was not a problem in most cases,


Slovakia under Meeiar being then an exception), that the rule of law became entrenched and that political pluralism and minority positions were tolerated. In other words, EU conditionality was really concerned with (some but not all) requirements of democratic consolidation rather than the more pioneering tasks of democratic transition. How much, therefore, did the EU through accession contribute towards democratic consolidation in CEE? As noted early in this study, democratic consolidation involves in summary the gradual removing of remaining transition uncertainties thus opening the way for the institutionalisation of a new democracy, the internalisation of its rules and procedures and the dissemination of democratic values through a ‘remaking’ of the political culture. By this account, EU accession and its conditionality have in general achieved most with the first of these three developments, namely democratic institutionalisation (albeit with the reservation about bureaucratisation discussed above). It has to a more limited extent contributed to the other two respectively through transnational elite socialisation in particular and through programmes designed to promote civil modernisation. The constraints have broadly come from legacy problems of some depth and from the fact that in regime change societal developments do not usually keep pace with often rapid institutional developments. It is not the case that the moment of EU entry represents the final point of democratic consolidation, although this assumption is bureaucratically convenient for Brussels. What accession does is to proclaim new members’ success with democratisation through granting this much coveted international status, to transmit thereby some political confidence at least to their political elites and, most importantly, to provide an institutional framework that increasingly makes it difficult for democratisation to go wrong. In short, accession makes consolidation probable and in the best of circumstances acts as a virtual guarantee that it will be achieved. But it must be noted that cross-national variation is likely to modify to some extent any such conclusion for the newly liberated former Communist countries took somewhat different, albeit contemporary, transition paths. Countries like Hungary and Poland advanced more easily than some with their political change because of their liberalisation phases under late Communism and their clear strategies for economic transformation. Slovenia may be said to have achieved democratic consolidation before EU membership because its political change was accompanied by not only effective economic transformation but also the emergence of a vibrant civil society, even though its transition was marked by a very brief war with the truncated Yugoslavia. At the level of party systems, the Czech Republic and Hungary are the most consolidated of the CEE countries; while in Slovakia party system development has remained persistently unsettled. But then Slovakia had a difficult democratisation path in the first five years after its independence in 1993 and one that interacted controversially with EU relations. Slovakia is one particular

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case where EU entry is likely to be especially beneficial for its democratic consolidation by virtue of such a pattern of EU/domestic interactions. Latvia and Estonia still have serious problems with their Russian minorities which must qualify success there with democratic consolidation but EU influence will probably in conjunction with time help resolve this matter. Such cross-national differences are relevant in contextualising the influence of EU conditionality. Of course, all these CEE countries have been subjected to the very same political conditions in the same period of time; and so insofar as they have been effectively implemented some uniformity might be expected in the new member states over democratic standards. Variation here would come from differences between those invited to negotiate in late 1997 and those which received the invitation two years later, the latter being placed under more incessant pressure to prove their democratic credentials. And it would also come from the fact that some political conditions were more difficult to achieve in certain candidate countries than in others. Disillusionment during early membership for CEE, if this transpires as indicated, may or may not create problems for democratic consolidation. Much depends on how far the new member states have become established as democracies with a decade and a half of regime change behind them. The weakest arena for conditionality effects is clearly the socio-economic arena, as shown in Chapter 6; but whether problems here rebound either on EU membership or on democratisation itself depends to some degree on the role played by intermediary actors. Evidence used in this study demonstrates their own adaptation to accession which is unlikely to be reversed once EU membership imposes its own schedules, institutional demands and constraints at a less hasty pace than before. On the other hand, EU conditionality has ceased for these new post-Communist member states. That means that direct and regular pressures disappear unless in emergency situations sanctions go into operation. Any lapses in democratic standards will probably attract the attention of the media and more consistently of vigilant NGOs. The final big test of this conditionality therefore remains ahead. Meanwhile, indirect effects on democratic practice come more into play through the now full participation of these countries in EU institutions. As a whole, post-accession democratising influences from the EU will be less concentrated and more diffuse compared with pre-membership conditionality. However, the post-Communist democracies will become finally converged with European integration and as a result are more likely than not to have a relatively untroubled final stage before achieving their consolidation.

Notes 1 Theoretical Perspectives on European Enlargement and Democratisation 1. The European, 30 January–5 February 1997. 2. L. Whitehead, The International Dimensions of Democratization: Europe and the Americas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 19. 3. P. Schmitter, ‘The international context of contemporary democratisation’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Transitions to Democracy: Comparative Perspectives from Southern Europe, Latin America and Eastern Europe (Dartmouth: Aldershot, 1995), p. 524. 4. See G. Pridham, ‘Measuring international factors in democratisation’, in G. Mangott, H. Waldrauch and S. Day (eds), Democratic Consolidation – the International Dimension: Hungary, Poland and Spain (Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlag, 2000), pp. 53–69; and his ‘Rethinking regime change theory and the international dimension of democratisation: ten years after in East-Central Europe’, in G. Pridham and A. Ágh (eds), Ten Years After: Democratic Transition and Consolidation in EastCentral Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001). 5. A. Pravda, ‘Introduction’, in J. Zielonka and A. Pravda (eds), Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, Volume 2: International and Transnational Factors (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 15. 6. See, for instance, the special issue of the journal Democratization (vol. 7, no. 1, spring 2000), The Internet, Democracy and Democratization, edited by P. Ferdinand. There is now a growing literature on the role of the internet in both democratisation and political behaviour in general. 7. J. Pinder, ‘The European Community and democracy in Central and Eastern Europe’, in G. Pridham et al., Building Democracy?: The International Dimension of Democratisation in Eastern Europe (London: Leicester University Press, revised edition, 1997), pp. 114ff. 8. For example, Pridham et al., Chapter 1. 9. For example, G. O’Donnell, P. Schmitter and L. Whitehead (eds), Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Prospects for Democracy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), part I, p. 5: ‘one of the firmest conclusions that emerged from our working group was that transitions from authoritarian rule and immediate prospects for political democracy were largely to be explained in terms of national forces and calculations; external actors tended to play an indirect and usually marginal role, with the obvious exception of those instances in which a foreign occupying power was present’. J. Linz and A. Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), underplay international influences by dint of neglecting them in their otherwise comprehensive comparative work. 10. Some historians have for instance written extensively about the postwar democratisations in Italy and the Federal Republic of Germany. On Italy, for instance, both J.E. Miller, The United States and Italy 1940–1950: the Politics and Diplomacy of Stabilisation (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1986) and J.L. Harper, America and the Reconstruction of Italy, 1945–1948 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986) provide rich detail on the USA’s role in 230

Notes 231

11. 12. 13. 14.

15.

16.

17.

18. 19.

20.

21.

22. 23.

24.

25. 26.

influencing domestic developments in that country although democratisation, as such, is not the dominant theme. On this point, see G. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratization: A Comparative Approach (London: Continuum, 2000), chapter 1. See ibid., pp. 12–16. A. Przeworski, Sustainable Democracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 3. The most prominent exponent of this school is Huntington, for example, see S. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratisation in the late 20th Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991). See L. Whitehead (ed.), The International Dimensions of Democratisation, own chapter 1 on three international dimensions of democratisation; also, P. Schmitter, ‘The international context of contemporary democratisation’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Transitions to Democracy (1995), pp. 503ff. P. Schmitter, ‘The influence of the international context upon the choice of national institutions and policies in neo-democracies’, in L. Whitehead (ed.), The International Dimensions of Democratization, p. 40. For a discussion of pariah regimes and the question of European influences, see G. Pridham, ‘Uneasy democratisations – pariah regimes, political conditionality and reborn transitions in Central and Eastern Europe’, in Democratization, vol. 8, no. 4, winter 2001, pp. 65–94. This point is emphasised by Pinder, ‘The European Community and democracy in Central and Eastern Europe’, in G. Pridham et al. (eds), Building Europe?, p. 124. See, for example, K. Remmer, ‘Theoretical decay and theoretical development: the resurgence of institutional analysis’, in World Politics, vol. 50, October 1997, p. 53, where she argues that ‘just as economists have found open-economy models useful for addressing contemporary issues of stabilisation and adjustment, comparativists need to begin thinking more systematically in terms of “open-polity” models’. One instance of this is D. Rueschemeyer, E. Stephens and J. Stephens, Capitalist Development and Democracy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), which incorporates transnational forces alongside other variables including social class to explain the positive correlation between economic development and democracy. In CEE, this refers to new states deriving from the former Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia. As to the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), virtually all new republics have been involved in this so-called third transformation including the three Baltic states among the candidate countries. For a brief explanation of these theories, see D. Chryssochoou, M. Tsinisizelis, S. Stavridis and K. Ifantis, Theory and Reform in the European Union (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), chapter 1. Ibid., pp. 46–51. F. Schimmelfennig, ‘The Community trap: liberal norms, rhetorical action and the Eastern enlargement of the European Union’, in International Organization, winter 2001, vol. 55, no. 1, pp. 47–80. For example, A. Dimitrova, ‘Enlargement, institution-building and the EU’s administrative capacity requirement’, in West European Politics, October 2002, vol. 25, no. 4, pp. 171–90. S. Hix, The Political System of the European Union (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1999), pp. 2–5. G. Marks, L. Hooghe and K. Blank, ‘European integration from the 1980s: statecentric vs. multi-level governance’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 34, no. 3, September 1996, p. 372.

232 Notes 27. G. Marks, L. Hooghe and K. Blank, ‘European integration from the 1980s: statecentric vs. multi-level governance’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 34, no. 3, September 1996, pp. 346–7. 28. See B. Kohler-Koch (ed.), Linking EU and National Governance (Oxford: Oxford Universiy Press, 2003). 29. D. Chryssochoou et al., Theory and Reform in the European Union, pp. 21–4; S. Hix, The Political System of the European Union, p. 14. 30. See T. Christiansen and S. Piattoni (eds), Informal Governance in the European Union (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2004). 31. Chryssochoou et al., Theory and Reform in the European Union, p. 22. 32. T. Risse-Kappen, ‘Bringing transnational relations back in: introduction’, in T. Risse-Kappen (ed.), Bringing Transnational Relations Back In: Non-state Actors, Domestic Structures and International Institutions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 29–31. 33. D. Cameron, ‘Transnational relations and the development of European economic and monetary union’, in ibid., p. 74. 34. R. Keohane and J. Nye (eds), Transnational Relations and World Politics (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), their introduction, pp. xvi–xxii. 35. D. Sidjanski, ‘Transition to democracy and European integration: the role of interest groups in Southern Europe’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Encouraging Democracy: the International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1991), pp. 195–211. 36. M. Slater, ‘Political elites, popular indifference and Community building’, in B. Nelsen and A. Stubb (eds), The European Union: Readings on the Theory and Practice of European Integration (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1994), pp. 153–68. 37. S. Bulmer, ‘Domestic politics and European Community policy making’ in ibid., pp. 141–52. 38. Ibid., p. 144. 39. See M. Cowles, J. Caporaso and T. Risse (eds), Transforming Europe: Europeanisation and Domestic Change (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001). 40. K. Goetz and S. Hix (eds), Europeanised Politics?: European Integration and National Political Systems, special issue of West European Politics, vol. 23, no. 4, October 2000 (London: Frank Cass), especially their introduction. 41. M. Vink, ‘What is Europeanisation? and other questions on a new research agenda’, in European Political Science, vol. 3, no. 1, autumn 2003, pp. 63–4. 42. This point about the abrupt effects of integration on national political systems is made for new member states, and applied to the Austrian case, by G. Falkner, ‘How pervasive are Euro-politics?: effects of EU membership on a new member state’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 38, no. 2, June 2000, pp. 223–50. 43. This neglect of domestic politics is not so unusual when compared with the literature on previous enlargements. Studies of the domestic politics of accession are few and include, for instance, F. Roy Willis, France, Germany and the New Europe, 1945–1967 (London: Oxford University Press, 1968); F. Roy Willis, Italy chooses Europe (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971); U. Kitzinger, Diplomacy and Persuasion: How Britain joined the Common Market (London: Thames & Hudson, 1973) and L. Tsoukalis, The European Community and its Mediterranean Enlargement (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1981), chapter 2. However, some attention is given to domestic politics in the current accession process involving CEE in H. Grabbe and K. Hughes, Enlarging the EU Eastwards (Royal Institute of International Affairs, London, 1998), chapter 6; M. Mannin (ed.), Pushing Back the Boundaries: the European Union and Central and Eastern Europe (Manchester: Manchester

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44.

45.

46. 47.

University Press, 1999); and K. Henderson (ed.), Back to Europe: Central and Eastern Europe and the European Union (London: UCL Press, 1999), part III chapters. See also K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union (London: Routledge, 2000). The best example of this was Norway, admittedly an established democracy, but where the rejection of EEC membership in its 1972 referendum had a traumatic effect on its domestic politics notably in party development. This point of differentiation is made with respect to the international position of states by A. Pravda, ‘Introduction’, in J. Zielonka and A. Pravda (eds), Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, pp. 23–4, where he refers to ‘double insiders’, ‘insiders’, ‘outsiders’ and ‘extreme outsiders’. He argues that the power of conditionality tends to vary with perceived prospects of progress towards accession. The Economist, 8 May 1999, p. 45. Cf. discussion of these two categories in M. Kaldor and I. Vejvoda, ‘Democratisation in Eastern and Central European countries’, in International Affairs, vol. 73, no. 1, January 1997, esp. pp. 62–7. For instance, the so-called Copenhagen criteria, established at the European Council meeting in 1993, included human rights and respect for minorities as well as the rule of law and stable democratic institutions.

2 The EU’s Conditionality Strategy: its Development before and after the Fall of Communism 1. P. Schmitter and I. Brouwer, ‘Promozione e protezione della democrazia: il concetto, le richerche, la valutazione’, in Rivista Italiana di Scienza Politica, vol. 30, no. 2, August 2000, pp. 187–226. 2. P. Burnell (ed.), Democracy Assistance: International Cooperation for Democratisation (London: Frank Cass, 2000), own chapter 2, pp. 39ff. 3. Ibid., pp. 6–10 acknowledges this overlap between the two terms but makes the point that democracy assistance is more focussed on positive action and accepts that democratisation is basically internally motivated. 4. See, for instance, T. Carothers, Aiding Democracy Abroad: the Learning Curve (Washington: Carnegie Endowment, 1999); and the series of articles on debating democracy assistance in Journal of Democracy, vol. 10, no. 4, October 1999. 5. Such costs may be equivalent to the entire monthly budget of a recipient political party (I. Lasota, ‘Sometimes less is more’, in Journal of Democracy, op. cit., p. 128). See also J. Wedel, Collision and Collusion: the Strange Case of Western Aid to Eastern Europe, updated edition (New York: Palgrave, 2001), for a critical assessment of fly-in fly-out aid consultants and how the conceptions underlying programmes may undermine their stated purpose. 6. On this question, and an analytical attempt to tackle it, see D. Collier and S. Levitsky, ‘Democracy with adjectives: conceptual innovation in comparative research’, in World Politics, vol. 49, April 1997, pp. 430–51. 7. For example, Lasota, ‘Sometimes less is more’, p. 126. 8. M. Ottaway and T. Chung, ‘Toward a new paradigm’, in Journal of Democracy, vol. 10, no. 4, October 1999, p. 104. 9. Ibid., pp. 104–6. 10. See P. Burnell (ed.), Democracy Assistance, Conclusion, p. 354 and G. Crawford, ‘European Union development cooperation and the promotion of democracy’, chapter 4.

234 Notes 11. Quoted in J. Wedel, Collision and Collusion: the Strange Case of Western Aid to Eastern Europe (New York: Palgrave, 2001), p. 36. 12. P. Ortuño Anaya, ‘The EEC, the Franco regime and the Socialist group in the European Parliament, 1962–77’, in International Journal of Iberian Studies, vol. 14, no. 1, 2001, p. 28. 13. J. Crespo MacLennan, Spain and the Process of European Integration, 1957–1985 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2000), p. 52. 14. Ibid., p. 59. 15. Ibid., p. 61. 16. Ibid., pp. 3, 59, 62. 17. Ibid., pp. 51–2, 62–3 and 65. 18. Ibid., pp. 73, 75–81 and 88–93. 19. Ibid., pp. 83–4. 20. Ibid., pp. 81–5 and 87. 21. V. Coufoudakis, ‘The EEC and the “freezing” of the Greek Association, 1967–74’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 16, no. 2, December 1977, pp. 117–18. 22. Ibid., pp. 130–1. 23. Ibid., p. 127. 24. Financial Times, 16 September 1986; The Independent, 28 February 1989 and The Observer, 17 December 1989. 25. Frankfurter Allgemeine, 18 and 19 October 1988. 26. The Times, 19 December 1989. 27. This declared respect for and the maintenance of parliamentary democracy and human rights in all member states as ‘essential elements of their membership in the EC’. The Declaration was among other things motivated by the prospect of Communist participation in the governments of the three Southern European countries, then an issue in the debate about Eurocommunism (Frankfurter Allgemeine, 11 April 1978). 28. The Times, 13 June 1975. 29. The Times, 15 December 1980. 30. The Times, 21 January 1976, 3 March 1976 and 31 March 1977. 31. Crespo MacLennan, Spain and the Process of European Integration, pp. 165–9; Frankfurter Allgemeine, 12 March 1981; and, The Times, 29 May 1981. 32. G. Pridham, ‘The politics of the European Community, transnational networks and democratic transition in Southern Europe’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Encouraging Democracy: the International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1991), p. 229. 33. The Times, 10 February 1977, 11 February 1977 and 29 March 1977. 34. The Times, 19 January 1977 and 2 March 1977. 35. Crespo MacLennan, Spain and the Process of European Integration, p. 183. 36. See Pridham, ‘The politics of the European Community’, pp. 239–42. 37. Ibid, pp. 234–5. 38. D. Papadimitriou, ‘The EU’s strategy in the post-Communist Balkans’, Journal of Southeast European and Black Sea Studies, vol. 1, no. 3, September 2001, pp. 78–80. 39. J. Pinder, ‘The European Community and democracy in Central and Eastern Europe’, in G. Pridham et al. (eds), Building Democracy?, p. 116. 40. This point is developed in G. Pridham, ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy in post-Communist states – formality and reality’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 40, no. 3, pp. 957–9.

Notes 235 41. The Copenhagen criteria were apparently drawn up literally in back-of-envelope style in a bar on the margins of the Copenhagen European Council (1993) by the then Director-General (DG) for External Relations, Horst Krenzler. Those involved had been discussing the differences between the former candidates for membership and the new ones from CEE. The latter were seen as being ‘obviously different in background and experience (of democracy and economic development)’. The criteria as drafted in this informal way became official Commission thinking and were approved by the European Council (evidence supplied by Michael Lake, former Commission spokesman and EU ambassador to Turkey and Hungary, email to the author, 31 July 2002). 42. Cf. the comment of Ingrid Shikova, head of the information centre, EU delegation to Bulgaria, that this vagueness was ‘not so bad’ as it ‘leaves room for a political decision about enlargement’ (interview, Sofia, September 2001). 43. Interview with Ricardo Pascual Bremon, deputy head, Coordination Unit, DG Enlargement, European Commission, Brussels, February 2001. 44. See European Commission, Enlargement 99: Composite Paper on the Commission Reports (Brussels, 1999), p. 21. 45. For example, H. Grabbe, A Partnership for Accession? The Implications of EU Conditionality for the Central and East European Applicants, Robert Schuman Centre, working paper RSC 99/12, European University Institute, San Domenico, 1999, p. 29. 46. Article by J. Goldston and R. Guglielmo of the Open Society Institute (OSI), ‘Minority groups must not be left to fall through the cracks of enlargement’, in European Voice, 31 October–7 November 2001. 47. This is implied in the criticism of the OSI that ‘the EU and governments of candidate states should more actively involve representatives of civil society in the accession process, including in the design, implementation and evaluation of programmes’, ibid. One Commission official in DG Enlargement commented on this omission of civil society from the EU’s political conditions that ‘we are judging a government, not a society, negotiating with the government of a country’ (interview with Helen Campbell, Bulgaria Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission, Brussels, February 2001). 48. This distinction and these terms are employed in the evaluation of the PHARE and TACIS programmes, see ISA Consult, European Institute, Sussex University and GJW Europe, Final Report: Evaluation of the PHARE and TACIS Democracy Programme, 1992–97 (Brighton and Hamburg: November 1997), pp. 13, 17. The terms are explained in M. Kaldor and I. Vejvoda (eds), Democratization in Central and Eastern Europe (London: Pinter, 1999), chapter 1. Mary Kaldor is one of the co-authors of the final report. 49. K. Maniokas, ‘Methodology of the EU enlargement: a critical appraisal’, paper for conference on the Politics of Enlargement in Central and Eastern Europe: Changing Rules and Institutions, Sväty Jur, Slovakia, September 2000, pp. 4–9. 50. K. Smith, ‘The evolution and application of EU membership conditionality’, in M. Cremona (ed.), The Enlargement of the European Union (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 121–30. 51. G. Harris, ‘A European Parliament perspective’, in J. Gower and J. Redmond (eds), Enlarging the European Union: the Way Forward (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), pp. 29–30. 52. The rapporteur for Slovakia cited the following main sources on that country: material from the European Commission including the Regular Reports, regular

236 Notes

53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59.

60. 61. 62. 63. 64.

65.

66. 67. 68. 69. 70.

meetings with the country’s ambassador to the EU and visiting ministers, press information, the Joint Parliamentary Committee and informal contacts (interviews with Jan Marinus Wiersma, MEP, European Parliament, Brussels, February 2001 and December 2002). Interview with Geoffrey Harris, EP Secretariat, Brussels, February 2001. Interview with Kristin Schreiber, member of Commissioner Verheugen’s cabinet, Brussels, February 2001. Interview with Rutger Wissels, the Czech country team, Directorate-General (DG) for Enlargement, European Commission, Brussels, December 2002. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 26 July 2002 and 30 September 2002. Interview with Allan Jones, Slovakia Country Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission, Brussels, March 2001. Interview with Bernd Biervert, Slovakia Country Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission, Brussels, February 2001. For example, the Commission sent the Slovak Government Office the draft of the 1999 report. Detailed comments were sent back and these were taken into account although clearly Brussels had the final say – ‘but they are the masters’ (interview with Igor Hajdusek, head of European affairs section, Government Office, Bratislava, May 2000). Interview with an official in DG Enlargement, European Commission, December 2002. Interview with Walter Rochel, head of the EU delegation to Slovakia, Bratislava, October 2000. Interview with Mechtild May, Hungary Desk, DG Enlargement, European Commission, Brussels, February 2001. Interview with Michael Lake, former head of the EU delegations in Turkey and Hungary, Bristol, March 2002. According to Ricardo Pascual Bremon, deputy head of the Coordination Unit, DG Enlargement, European Commission, the regular reports ‘have to be drafted in a fair and objective manner, with precise guidelines’ (interview, Brussels, February 2001); while Commissioner Verheugen announced to the EP in October 2002 that the Commission’s decision about recommending membership for ten countries, drawing on the regular reports, was in his view ‘based on neutral information and not in itself a political judgement’ (EP, The Week, 9–10 October 2002, Brussels). This was particularly marked in the Slovak case for in the early years the JPC meetings had been badly affected by hostile relations between government and opposition parties during the Meeiar Government until 1998. In other words, domestic antagonism had spilled over onto the EU level to some degree in place of dialogue between the Slovak deputies and the MEPs. However, from 1999 a more harmonious situation had developed with Slovak deputies from all parties participating more positively in the EP-type procedures and airing their policy differences along conventional procedural lines (interview with Peter Weiss, Slovak co-chairman of the EP/Slovakia JPC, Brussels, March 2001). Interview with Geoffrey Harris, EP Secretariat, section responsible for JPC coordination, Brussels, February 2001. G. Harris, ‘A European Parliament perspective’, pp. 31–2. Final Report: Evaluation of the PHARE and TACIS Democracy Programme, introduction. Ibid., p. 6. Ibid., p. 6.

Notes 237 71. M. Szalai, deputy director of the Robert Schuman Institute, letter to Jan Earnogursky, leader of the Christian Democratic Movement (KDH) in Slovakia, 2 October 1995. Letter given to the author by the former international secretary of the KDH, Juraj Kohutiar. 72. Final Report: Evaluation of the PHARE and TACIS Democracy Programme, p. 76. 73. Ibid., p. 6. 74. K. Smith, ‘Western actors and the promotion of democracy’, in Zielonka and Pravda, Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, p. 41. 75. M. Nowak, ‘Human rights “conditionality” in relation to entry to, and full participation in, the EU’, in P. Alston (ed.), The EU and Human Rights (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 692. 76. Ibid., pp. 41–3. 77. For example, RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 16 September 2002. 78. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 2 February 2002 and 21 March 2002. 79. V. Stan, ‘Influencing regime change in the Balkans: the role of external factors in the transition’, in G. Pridham and T. Gallagher (eds), Experimenting with Democracy: Regime Change in the Balkans (London: Routledge, 2000), pp. 158–9. 80. R. Seidelmann, ‘International security and democracy-building’, in Zielonka and Pravda, Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, pp. 119–20. 81. Ibid., pp. 129–33. 82. K. Smith, ‘Western actors and the promotion of democracy’, pp. 40–1. 83. The following three paragraphs draw on G. Pridham, ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy in post-Communist states – formality and reality’, Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 40, no. 3, pp. 959–61. 84. European Commission, Enlargement 99: Commission Report on Slovakia (Brussels, 1999), pp. 11–17. 85. Czech Government, National Programme for the Preparation of the Czech Republic for Membership of the European Union (Prague, 1999), pp. 4–12. 86. European Commission, 2000 Regular Report on the Czech Republic’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2000), pp. 19–20. 87. R. Rose, ‘Two cheers for democracy’, in The World Today, October 1998, pp. 252–5. 88. European Commission, Strategy Paper 2000 (Brussels, 2000), pp. 16–17. 89. For example, RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 27 April 2001. 90. Interview with Ludfk Zahradníeek, department for coordination with the EU, Foreign Ministry, Prague, March 2000. 91. Interview with Petr Zavadil, EU affairs correspondent of Lidové Noviny, Prague, March 2000. 92. Ibid. 93. European Commission, Enlargement 99: Commission Report on Hungary (Brussels, 1999), pp. 11–16. 94. Interview with Peter Thelen, head of the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung office, Budapest, April 2000. 95. European Commission, 2001 Regular Report on Hungary’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2001), section 3. 96. European Voice, 15–21 November 2001. 97. Interview with Michael Lake, former EU ambassador to Turkey and Hungary, Bristol, March 2002. 98. Quoted in A. Duleba, ‘Democratic consolidation and the conflict over Slovak international alignment’, in S. Szomolányi and J. Gould, Slovakia: Problems of Democratic Consolidation (Bratislava: Slovak Political Science Association, 1997), pp. 216–17.

238 Notes 99. European Commission, Agenda 2000 (Brussels, 1997), report on Slovakia. 100. They had the effect of reinforcing cabinet solidarity around the Slovak position (interview with Olga Keltosová, then minister of social and family affairs, on discussion of the démarches in the cabinet, Bratislava, October 2000). 101. G. Pridham, ‘The European Union’s democratic conditionality and domestic politics in Slovakia: the Meeiar and Dzurinda governments compared’, in Europe– Asia Studies, March 2002, pp. 214–15. 102. See Pridham, ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy in post-Communist states’, p. 958. One Commission official in DG Enlargement commented that ‘you would have to be caught with your hand inside the ballot box’, that is, violation of the EU’s political conditions would have to be blatant. 103. European Commission, 2001 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2001), p. 16. 104. European Commission, 2000 Regular Report on Slovakia’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2000), p. 16. 105. As the former Slovak Deputy Prime Minister for European Integration commented, ‘we understand [the democratic deficit] as a fact’; and, there is no criticism of it as ‘we are concentrating on accession – we are simply pragmatic’ (interview with Pavol Hamzík, Bratislava, April 2002). 106. Exceptions would include Václav Klaus whose admiration for the USA would suggest a sympathy for the American rather than European model of government. There has been some polemical debate in Hungary about forms of democracy, with Orbán as Prime Minister preferring a majoritarian over a consensual model (see A. Ágh, ‘Early democratic consolidation in Hungary and the Europeanisation of the Hungarian polity’, in G. Pridham and A. Ágh (eds), Prospects for Democratic Consolidation in East-Central Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001), pp. 170–1. But in fact such debates remained within the West European framework if we regard British exceptionalism in its way of government as part of the EU scene. Otherwise, nationalist or populist leaders would be those most likely to present alternative models but they have tended to be unenlightening about this or tactically evasive, perhaps because the West European model has acquired received status and because usually EU accession has been popular. An answer as to intentions may be implied from their actions in power, for example, Sali Berisha’s autocratic practices in Albania, although that it not always a clear indicator. For example, it is doubtful that Vladimír Meeiar had an alternative model in mind during the mid-1990s in Slovakia since his authoritarian tendencies were strongly driven by personalistic and sometimes ad hoc considerations. 107. This happened for instance in relation to the 1996 elections in Albania. Despite OSCE criticisms of the way the election was conducted, EU diplomats made clear they would accept the result, as Berisha was seen as having provided stability in this corner of the Balkans which among other things had encouraged foreign investment (The Independent, 31 May 1996). During the campaign, representatives of the European Democratic Union (EDU) and European People’s Party (EPP) had appeared in Tirana and issued a statement praising Berisha for keeping the peace in the southern Balkans. The USA was concerned also that the opposition Socialists would not win the election as they might scare off foreign investors (The Independent, 14 May 1996). 108. C. Guicherd, ‘The EU and Belarus: from a zero to a positive sum game’, in A. Lewis (ed.), The EU and Belarus: between Moscow and Brussels (London: The Federal Trust, 2002), pp. 317–19.

Notes 239 109. M. Light, S. White and J. Lowenhardt, ‘A wider Europe: the view from Moscow’, in International Affairs, vol. 76, no. 1, January 2000, pp. 85–7.

3 EU Enlargement, Democratisation and Domestic Politics in Post-Communist Europe: Patterns and Problems of Motivation 1. H. Wallace, ‘National bulls in the Community china shop: the role of national governments in Community policy-making’, chapter 2 in H. Wallace, C. Webb and W. Wallace (eds), Policy Making in the European Community (London: John Wiley, 1977), pp. 33–4. 2. S. Bulmer, ‘Domestic politics and European Community policy making’, in B. Nelsen and A. Stubb (eds), The European Union: Readings on the Theory and Practice of European Integration (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1994), p. 144. 3. As the deputy head of the European Committee in Lithuania (which under the Prime Minister’s office is responsible for the domestic side of accession negotiations) remarked, accession negotiations are ‘not real negotiations in the classical sense’ (interview with Darius Zeruolis, Vilnius, July 2000). 4. S. Bulmer, ‘Domestic politics and European Community policy making’, pp. 145, 148. 5. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratization: A Comparative Approach, pp. 117–20. 6. This derived from Adenauer’s strong Catholic background and Rhineland roots, which helped to explain his support for Franco-German reconciliation as a central component of integration. His commitment to European unity is very evident in his memoirs, where numerous chapters in the four volumes were devoted to this theme and many of them to Franco-German relations. 7. F. Roy Willis, France, Germany and the New Europe, 1945–1967 (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), pp. 125–6. 8. Ibid., pp. 127–8. 9. N. Kogan, The Politics of Italian Foreign Policy (London: Pall Mall Press, 1963), p. 136. 10. A. Chiti-Batelli, Dalle elezioni alla federazione europea? (Florence: Le Monnier, 1979), pp. 43–4. 11. P. Vannicelli, Italy, NATO and the European Community: the Interplay of Foreign Policy and Domestic Politics (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974), p. 22, for the argument that ‘in an unstable system with stalemating tendencies, frequent government crises and constant political manoeuvring within and among parties, exploitation of foreign policy for internal purposes is almost inevitable’. 12. G. Pridham, ‘Italy’, in C. and K. Twitchett (eds), Building Europe: Britain’s Partners in the EEC (London: Europa Publications, 1981), p. 88. 13. F. Attina, ‘Socialist parties and Italian foreign policy’, in W. Feld (ed.), The Foreign Policies of West European Socialist Parties (New York: Praeger, 1978), chapter 7. 14. Vannicelli, Italy, NATO and the European Community, pp. 37–8. 15. This is not to say there were moments when the security imperative did not come to the fore, most notably in Portugal in 1975 when the transition there to democracy looked seriously threatened by internal developments, namely the challenge from the pro-Moscow Communist Party and the radical left military not to mention some reactionary circles. As a result, the pro-democracy parties united around the European option, while NATO felt intense concern over the Portugese situation and made contingency plans (G. Pridham, ‘The politics of

240 Notes

16.

17.

18.

19.

20. 21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26. 27.

28. 29.

30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

the European Community, transnational networks and democratic transition in Southern Europe’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Encouraging Democracy, the International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1991), pp. 227, 236–7. The Guardian, 28 May 1979; The Times, 15 December 1980. The latter quotes Greek Foreign Minister Mitsotakis’s comments that prospective dictators ‘are bound to know that the abolition of democracy entails immediate ostracism from the Community; this could have grave internal and external consequences, so in this respect, the EEC is a safe haven’. K. Featherstone, ‘Socialist parties and the enlarged EC’, in T. Gallagher and A. Williams (eds), Southern European Socialism: Parties, Elections and the Challenge of Government (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1989), pp. 250–1. It appeared in a number of Papandreou’s statements as PASOK leader, for example, his interview with Der Spiegel, 6 September 1976 where he was critical of Bonn’s position during the Colonels’ regime and for being too close to Washington. L. Tsoukalis, The European Community and its Mediterranean Enlargement (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1981), p. 105. According to Carlos Westendorp, the Spanish government’s secretary-general for EC affairs, ‘Europe is synonymous with democracy, synonymous with modernisation and synonymous with the welfare state, which has a moral value in this part of the world; everyone has a desire to end isolation and a desire to modernise.’ President Eanes of Portugal was also quoted, as saying: ‘After entry into the EC, there will be a revolution in the mentality of the Portuguese people; our younger generation will be more in contact with different political and economic systems; in 15 years Portugal will be a differentt place’ (The Times, 23 December 1985). On this, see D. Ethier, Economic Adjustment in New Democracies: Lessons from Southern Europe (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1997). Tsoukalis, The European Community, p. 110. See G. Moschonas, ‘The path of modernisation: PASOK and European integration’, in Journal of Southern Europe and the Balkans, vol. 3, no. 1, May 2001, pp. 11–24. See S. Verney, ‘To be or not to be within the European Community: the party debate and democratic consolidation in Greece’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Securing Democracy: Political Parties and Democratic Consolidation in Southern Europe (London: Routledge, 1990), esp. pp. 209–10, 213–16. Tsoukalis, The European Community, pp. 117–18, 119–20. Verney, in Pridham, Securing Democracy, p. 210. Tsoukalis, The European Community, pp. 159–60. Featherstone, in T. Gallagher and A. Williams (eds), Southern European Socialism, pp. 252–3. See also J. Brooks, ‘Mediteranean neo-democracies and the opinion– policy nexus’, in West European Politics, vol. 11, no. 3, July 1988, pp. 133–4. Die Zeit, 5 January 1973. U. Kitzinger, Diplomacy and Persuasion: How Britain joined the Common Market (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973), p. 27. For a detailed discussion of this policy redirection, see M. Camps, Britain and the European Community, 1955–1963 (London: Oxford University Press, 1964), esp. chapters ix and x. Camps, Britain and the European Community, p. 359. Kitzinger, Diplomacy and Persuasion, pp. 147–50 and 159. The Guardian, 16 June 1994. The Independent, 4 March 1994. Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 6 May 1995.

Notes 241 35. Die Zeit, 10 June 1994; interview with Chancellor Vranitzky in Die Zeit, 26 October 1990. 36. Financial Times, 15 November 1994. 37. The Times, 30 November 1994; Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 30 November 1994. 38. The Independent on Sunday, 25 September 1994; The Independent, 11 November 1994. 39. The European, 14/20 January 1994; The Times, 24 November 1994. 40. The Independent, 14 November 1994; Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 9 November 1994. 41. The Times, 11 November 1994. 42. Pridham, ‘The European Union’s democratic conditionality and domestic politics in Slovakia: the Meeiar and Dzurinda governments compared’, in Europe – Asia Studies, vol. 54, no. 2, March 2002, p. 211. 43. This description of Meeiar is based on several interviews in Bratislava with politicians and journalists who knew or met Meeiar personally while he was prime minister. For instance, according to Magda Vásáryová, former Czechoslovak ambassador to Vienna, Meeiar was ignorant about foreign policy although he ‘learnt easily’ (interview, Bratislava, May 2000). Meeiar could apply his undoubted intelligence, but this still did not mean he ‘tuned in’ with European political leaders. 44. J. Wallat, ‘Czechsolovak/Czech foreign and security policy, 1989–1999’, in Perspectives: the Central European Review of International Affairs, vol. 17, winter 2001/2002, pp. 20–1. 45. For example, his statement in an extended interview on the subject that ‘ “Euroism” or “Europeanism” – that starts to be a certain religion, a certain ideology and I don’t share in it’ (RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 12 and 13 March 2002). 46. This referred not only to his diction, for example, a stress on ‘national feeling’ and national identity, but also his sarcastic style when speaking about European unity and how far it should go, cf. analysis of Klaus’s view of integration in P. Bugge, Czech Perceptions of the Perspective of EU Membership: Havel vs. Klaus, EUI Working Paper, RSC No. 2000/10, European University Institute, San Domenico, 2000, pp. 25–31. 47. According to Michael Lake, former EU ambassador to Hungary, who met Orbán many times including privately, he had ‘two faces, and one shines more brightly than the others’. On the one side, Orbán ‘was instinctively more nationalist’; while, on the other, he was ‘determined to establish Hungarian identity, but in the European integration framework’ (interview with Michael Lake, Bristol, 13 March 2002). 48. There are hardly any such examples in the early enlargement cases although King Juan Carlos of Spain is a notable exception. On several public occasions abroad, he stressed the historic importance for Spain of European integration. Karamanlis did become Greek president in 1980 but by then his task was accomplished and his country was just about to join the EC. 49. Vik¸e-Freiberga’s commitment was shown by her emotional response to Latvia’s invitation to join NATO at the Prague summit, November 2002. She is also an example of a former exile now in high office, having been professor in Monteal for most of her working life. Another example of a leader with extensive contacts in the West, and especially Western Europe, in his case as a businessman based in Madrid, is Simeon Saxecoburggotski, prime minister of Bulgaria since 2001 and a former king of Bulgaria.

242 Notes 50. This helped to account for his prestigious reputation abroad while having a much lower reputation at home, as was much remarked on when he retired in February 2003. This phenomenon was also true of the president of Romania 1996–2000, Constantinescu, albeit less impressively. According to an official in the EU delegation, Constantinenscu was ‘good on the external side of Romania and the EU, but weak in understanding the domestic side; presentationally, he was like a Western politician’ (interview, Bucharest, May 2001). 51. Bugge, Czech Perceptions, pp. 10–23. 52. This is taken from interviews with two politicians who know Iliescu well; and is confirmed through many other conversations in Bucharest. According to Sergiu Celac, Romanian foreign minister 1989–90 and subsequently ambassador, Iliescu was during his first term as president still a believer in the ideas of Communism while a convert to political pluralism and ‘found it difficult to utter the word “capitalism” as a policy objective for Romania’ (interview, Halki, Greece, September 2001). In the view of Ghiorghi Pris{caru, chairman of the Foreign Policy Committee, Romanian Senate, Iliescu changed after his loss of office in 1996 – which had a powerful shock effect on him – when he became ‘more open to Western ideas and concepts … more open, more democratic, a better politician’ and read much Social Democratic political literature (interview, Bucharest, May 2001). 53. Interview with Sergiu Celac, former Romanian foreign miniser, Halki, Greece, September 2001. According to Celac, who knew him well since their student days, Iliescu’s personal development was ‘slow and painful’. 54. According to Iliescu’s adviser on the EU and NATO, Iliescu ‘doesn’t disagree with his view emphasising the need for deep economic reform and for uprooting corruption’. He added that Iliescu ‘has a vision about Romania overcoming all difficulties, and Romania adapting itself to the modern world, [which is] more and more globalised’ (interview with Florin Lupescu, Bucharest, May 2001). 55. Cf. the comments of Anton Niculescu, former state secretary for European Integration, that Iliescu ‘wants a success story in his last period in office’ (i.e. with respect to the EU), and of Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, a former Romanian chief negotiator with the EU, that Iliescu ‘wants to depict himself as a renovated personality’ (both interviewed in Bucharest, May 2001). 56. Dzurinda himself, who previously managed with French, learned English from 1996, while still in opposition, and continued to do so once he became prime minister, taking lessons from a private tutor whenever he found some spare time (interview with Miroslav Wlachovsky, foreign policy and security adviser to Prime Minister Dzurinda, Bratislava, September 2002). 57. An even more prominent example of this phenomenon is President Putin of Russia whose excellent command of German comes from his having been a KGB agent in Dresden in the 1980s. 58. It is arguable that Milosevic’s language skill allowed him to calculate Western minds more effectively, although that fails to convince for his later years in office. 59. K. Hughes, H. Grabbe and E. Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, Discussion Paper No. IGS99/3, Institute for German studies, University of Birmingham, 1999, p. 10. 60. Ibid., pp. 70–1 and 85. 61. Economic Policy Institute, Sofia, and Centre for the Study of Democracy, Sofia, ‘Bulgaria and Romania’, in H. Tang (ed.), Winners and Losers of EU Integration: Policy Issues for Central and Eastern Europe (Washington: The World Bank, 2000), pp. 99–100.

Notes 243 62. Interview with Alexander Herlea, Romanian ambassador to the EU, Brussels, February 2001. He pointed out that one compromise, ‘very painful on the moral level’, had to be made as ‘the most Western-oriented [of these young people] were sons of high-ranking Communists who travelled abroad’. Nevertheless, by the time he left the ministry 60 per cent of the staff were new and of these 90 per cent were young, that is, below 35/40. 63. An impression gained during field work in Sofia, September 2001. The policy of promoting young people to such positions was confirmed by Jivka Staneva, a head of unit in the European Integration Directorate, Council of Ministers (interview with, September 2001). 64. Interview in The Slovak Spectator, 10–16 January 2000. 65. In the Polish case, it was noted that negotiations from 1998 produced ‘a rapid transformation of perspectives’ and marked ‘a new stage in shaping opinions on integration on the part of politicians and society as a whole’ (E. Stadtmüller, ‘Polish perceptions of the European Union in the 1990s’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union (London: Routledge, 2000), p. 29. 66. Cf. the comment of an official of the EU delegation in Bulgaria that elite understanding of EU affairs was in his experience ‘more technical than deep’ in accession countries (interview in Sofia, September 2001). 67. E. Kukan, The Slovak Republic on its Way into the European Union (Bonn: Zentrum für Europäische Integrationsforschung, Discussion Paper C40, 1999), p. 4. 68. The Independent, 28 June 2002. 69. R.Vukadinovic, ‘Former Yugoslavia: international efforts to link peace, stability and democracy’, in J. Zielonka and A. Pravda (eds), Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, p. 451. 70. D. Phinnemore, ‘Stuck in the “grey zone”? – fears and frustrations in Romania’s quest for EU membership’, in Ross, Perspectives on the Enlargement of the European Union (Leiden: Brill, 2002), pp. 166ff. 71. Cf. the comment of Mircea Geoana, Romanian foreign minister, that ‘in our relationships with the Western institutions, a servile attitude is not suited and it will not bring us any economic or political benefits’ (M. Geoana, ‘Debate on the future of Europe – implications for Romania’, in A. Nastase (ed.), Romania and the Future of Europe (Bucharest: Regia Autonoma Monitorul Oficial, 2001), pp. 51–2). 72. G. Pridham, ‘Romania and European Union accession: the domestic dimension’, in The Romanian Journal of Society and Politics, vol. 1, no. 2, November 2001, pp. 30–1. 73. Very strong feelings were expressed by the president’s adviser on EU and NATO about the way the avis of July 1997 was conducted. The sense of Romania being shut out focussed on how, in preparation of the avis from May 1997, the Commission metaphorically ‘installed magnetic doors – “not to be disturbed.” ’ According to him, the French deputy general director in DG1A, who was very influential in formulating the avis, viewed post-Communist countries as ‘barbarians’ where the EU’s mission was to ‘civilise’ them (interview with Florin Lupescu, Bucharest, May 2001). 74. I. Brinar and M. Svetlicic, ‘Enlargement of the European Union: the case of Slovenia’, in Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 6, December 1999, p. 811. 75. D. Rupel, ‘National identity in the European Union’, European Voice, 19–25 September 2002. 76. K. Hughes, H. Grabbe and E. Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, Discussion Paper No. IGS99/3, Institute for German Sudies, Universiy of Birmingham, 1999, pp. 22–3, 65.

244 Notes 77. G. Herd, ‘The Baltic states and EU enlargement’, in K. Henderson (ed.), Back to Europe: Central and Eastern Europe and the European Union (London: UCL Press, 1999), p. 265. 78. Only Radio Maryja mobilised the religious Right on this issue and has provided some support for the post-Solidarity AWS in elections. In Slovakia, the former KDH chairman Jan Earnogursky, has on occasions expressed similar views critical of Western or American liberalism, but his party has remained firmly pro-EU alongside its partners in Christian Democratic transnational party organisations. 79. Bugge, Czech Perceptions, p. 1. 80. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries, p. 95. Cf. comment of a former Romanian ambassador to Germany that Chancellor Kohl’s image of Romania was affected by his ‘ugly remembrance’ of Ceaubescu, strengthened by the feeling that ‘old Communists’ were still in power (interview, Bucharest, May 2001). 81. Geoana, in A. Nastase (ed.), Romania and the Future of Europe, p. 50. 82. M. Kunstat, ‘Germany and the Czech Republic’, in V. Handl, J. Hon and O. Pick (eds), Germany and the East-Central Europe since 1990 (Prague: Institute of International Relations, 1999), p. 236. 83. Ibid., pp. 245–8. 84. V. Handl and M. Zaborowski, Comparative Czech and Polish Perspectives and Policies on the Eastern Enlargement of the EU and the Prominence of the German Factor, report, Institute for German Studies, University of Birmingham, 1999, pp. 19–20 and 31–2. 85. Handl, Hon and Pick, Germany and the East-Central Europe since 1990, pp. 180 and 203. 86. See Handl and Zaborowski, Comparative Czech and Polish Perspectives, pp. 39ff. 87. Quoted in Stadtmüller, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, p. 38. 88. A. Francis, ‘Poland: the return to Europe’, in M. Mannin (ed.), Pushing Back the Boundaries: the European Union and Central and Eastern Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), p. 296. 89. For a theortical discussion of this, see N. Rengger, ‘Towards a culture of democracy?: democratic theory and democratisation in Eastern and Central Europe’, in G. Pridham, E. Herring and G. Sanford (ed.), Building Democracy?, pp. 56–80. 90. The European, 30 January–5 February 1997. 91. M. Karasinska-Fendler et al., ‘Poland’, in H. Tang, Winners and Losers of EU Integration, pp. 162, 186. 92. Cf. the statement that ‘Bulgaria accepts from the very beginning all these principles of the European political life and thus the building of a democratic state from the very start in compliance with the European standards’ (see A. Todorov and A. Ivanov, ‘European standards in the Bulgarian political life’, in I. Bokova and P. Hubchev (eds), Monitoring of Bulgaria’s Accession to the European Union 2000 (Sofia: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 2000), p. 27. 93. This was implicit in the comment of the chairman of the Foreign Policy Committee in the Romanian Chamber of Deputies that the EU accession process was ‘a very great help for democracy … the people accept this price; democracy is associated with a higher level of life; people are prepared to make sacrifices’ (interview with Radu Podgoreanu, Bucharest, May 2001). 94. See earlier in Chapter 2(4), p. 58. 95. Some of these possibilities are identified in K. Goetz and S. Hix (eds), ‘Europeanised Politics?: European Integration and National Political Systems’, West European Politics, vol. 23, no. 4, October 2000, pp. 12–14.

Notes 245 96. For example, see G. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratisation: A Comparative Approach, p. 150. 97. The only late exception, a temporary one, was Romania’s position in the late summer of 2002 on the issue of American military personnel being exempted from charges by the International Criminal Court. For a time this caused tension between the EU and the USA, which applied fairly crude pressure on CEE applicants to NATO to support the American position. Only Romania did so out of desire to please opinion in Washington in the months before the NATO summit in Prague which decided on new members. For a while Romania received an unfavourable press for doing so. The Romanian Foreign Minister, Geoana, admitted a mistake but explained it on the grounds that Romania’s NATO entry would be decided some years before its EU entry. 98. Cf. A. Cottey, ‘The security dimension of EU enlargement’, paper for the PSA conference, London School of Economics, April 2000. 99. For example, the link made in this way between democratisation and European security in the Czech case, see report issued by the Czech Institute of International Relations, The Security Policy of the Czech Republic (Prague: Institute of International Relations, 1997), p. 48. Historical memories of the First Czechoslovak Republic in the interwar period coloured this perception: ‘the Czech state should never again become an object subject to manipulation by super-powers, bigger states or international organisations’ (ibid., p. 48). 100. Handl and Zaborowski, Comparative Czech and Polish Perspectives, p. 33. 101. G. Herd, ‘The Baltic states and EU enlargement’, in Henderson, Back to Europe, pp. 259, 261. 102. Cf. comment of Darius Zeruolis, Committee of European Affairs, Lithuanian Government, that the security question ‘acts as a barrier to voicing opposition’ to the EU, for ‘without this motive there would be greater domestic discontent over the EU question’ (interview, Vilnius, July 2000). 103. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries, p. 95. 104. Cf. the remark of the foreign minister of Slovenia that ‘the overall security of a small state is a particular problem: defence or military power is usually in proportion to a country’s size; integration into the EU and NATO would considerably enhance Slovenia’s defence capabilities’ (article by D. Rupel, Slovene foreign minister, European Voice, 19–25 September 2002). 105. Cf. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries, p. 41. 106. See Handl and Zaborowski, Comparative Czech and Polish Perspectives, p. 58; A. Ágh, ‘Europeanisation of policy-making in East-Central Europe: the Hungarian approach to EU accession’, in Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 17, December 1999, p. 841. 107. In Estonia’s case, for example, the Scandinavian model has had a powerful attraction to the extent of some leaders in Tallinn hoping for their country to become a ‘normal boring Scandinavian state’ (Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes the Central and East European Countries, p. 62). 108. D. Rupel, European Voice, 19–25 September 2002. 109. See A. Mayhew, Recreating Europe: the European Union’s Policy towards Central and Eastern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 196–8. 110. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries, p. 2. 111. M. Geoana, in A. Nastase (ed.), Romania and the Future of Europe, p. 58.

246 Notes 112. The Times, 31 January 1997. This appeal produced the stern response from Commission President Santer that help would be forthcoming so long as Bulgaria formed a stable government to overcome its crisis. 113. See Romania’s Medium-Term Economic Strategy of Economic Development (Bucharest: Romanian Center for Compared and Consensual Economics, 2000), pp. 9, 21, including an acknowledgement that ‘the Government’s appreciation for the Commission’s activity is based on the assumption that the European integration represents a major objective of the entire society’.

4 Post-Communist Accession Governments: Policy Orientation, Institutional Adjustment and Implementing Democratic Conditionality 1. For example, B. Lippert, G. Umbach and W. Wessels, ‘Europeanisation of CEE executives: EU membership negotiations as a shaping power’, in Journal of European Public Policy, special issue 2001, p. 985. ‘The context of transformation makes it difficult, however, to distinguish unambiguously between those processes that are caused by, and connected to, EU integration and those associated with democratisation and marketisation.’ 2. A. Ágh, Anticipatory and Adaptive Europeanization in Hungary (Budapest: Hungarian Centre for Democracy Studies, 2003), p. 92. 3. See Lippert, Umbach and Wessels, ‘Europeanisation of CEE excecutives’, pp. 1004–5, which draws attention to the possibility of ‘ “technocratisation” of the political process at the expense of political actors who are accountable to the electorate’ and speculates that ‘the obligations linked to EU integration could, thus, not only slow down the consolidating processes, but also lead to permanent structural handicaps for the participation of the future member states in European decision making’. 4. According to Crowther, ideological affinities between Iliescu and Gorbachev played a part here, but so did a dependence on Russian raw materials and initial diplomatic difficulties with the West, see W. Crowther, ‘The European Union and Romania: the politics of constrained transition’, in P. Kubicek (ed.), The European Union and Democratization (London: Routledge, 2003), pp. 93–4. 5. I. Brinar and M. Svetlicic, ‘Enlargement of the European Union: the case of Slovenia’, in Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 6, no. 5, December 1999, p. 810. 6. Interview with Sergiu Celac, foreign minister of Romania 1989–90, Halki, Greece, September 2001. 7. M. B. Williams, ‘Exporting the democratic deficit: Hungary’s experience with EU integration’, in Problems of Post-Communism, vol. 48, no. 1, January–February 2001, p. 30. 8. Interview with Rudolf Bauer, member of the European Integration Committee, Slovak National Council, Bratislava, October 2000. 9. W. Jacoby, ‘Ordering from the menu: how Central and East European states cope with EU demands for institutional reform’, paper for ECPR, Turin, March 2002, pp. 5–6 and 8. 10. Interview with Nikolai Mladenov, Union of Democratic Forces (UDF) vicechairman of the European Committee, Bulgarian National Assembly, Sofia, September 2001. 11. Interview with Janis Vaivads, director of the European Integration Bureau and former minister of European Affairs, Riga, May 2003.

Notes 247 12. H. Grabbe and K. Hughes, Enlarging the EU Eastwards (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1998), p. 75. 13. This paragraph is based on interviews in Bucharest in May 2001 with the following: Florin Lupescu, adviser to President Iliescu on EU and NATO affairs; Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, official of the EU delegation and former chief negotiator of Romania with the EU and Eugen Dijmarescu, Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 14. T. Gallagher, ‘Building democracy in Romania: internal shortcomings and external neglect’, in J. Zielonka and A. Pravda (eds), Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, pp. 408–10, who notes the case of positive policy initiatives towards the Hungarian minority in Romania before the NATO summit in 1997 – which offered membership to some other CEECs – but a subsequent failure of legislation in the parliament to strengthen minority rights in the wake of Romania’s rejection. 15. Interviews with respectively Evgeni Ivanov, Bulgarian Employers’ Association and former Bulgarian ambassador to the EU 1993–98, and with Stanislav Daskalov, European Institute and former Bulgarian foreign minister 1993–94, in Sofia, September 2001. 16. Interview with Assen Agov, vice-chairman of the Bulgarian National Assembly, Sofia, September 2001. 17. This paragraph draws on an interview in Bucharest, May 2001 with Florin Lupescu, adviser to President Iliescu on EU and NATO matters and at that time an official in the prime minister’s office, who summarised the Romanian political response as: ‘Tony Blair was our godfather; and we are thankful for that’. One official in the EU delegation commented that Blair’s speech to the Romanian parliament overrode British FCO reservations about the Romanian case for an EU invitation. 18. Interview with Olga Keltosová, at that time minister of Labour and Social Affairs in the Meeiar government, in Bratislava, October 2000. 19. On this, see Pridham, ‘The European Union’s democratic conditionality and domestic politics in Slovakia: the Meeiar and Dzurinda governments compared’, in Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 54, no. 2, March 2002, pp. 210–14. 20. Interview with Jan Wiersma, EP rapporteur on Slovakia, Brussels, February 2001. 21. See G. Pridham, ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy in post-Communist states – formality and reality’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 40, no. 5, December 2002, p. 958. 22. The EP report said that it ‘considers that smooth development of the negotiations will depend upon Romania’s capacity to bring her child welfare fully inside the UN Convention for the Rights of the Child, since this forms part of the acquis communautaire of Justice and Home Affairs which chapter’s opening is planned for autumn 2001’ (European Parliament, Draft Report on Romania’s membership application to the EU, 23 May 2001, p. 7). 23. The Independent, 11 December 2002. 24. J. Marusiak, J. Alner, P. Lukac, R. Chmel, I. Samson and A. Duleba ‘The foreign policy and national security of the Slovak Republic’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Ivantysyn and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia, 1998–1999: a Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 1999), pp. 178–9. 25. Crowther, ‘The European Union and Romania’, in Kubicek (ed.), The European Union and Democratisation, p. 104. 26. N. Muiznieks and I. Brands Kehris, ‘The European Union, democratisation and minorities in Latvia’, in Kubicek (ed.), The European Union and Democratisation pp. 30–55.

248 Notes 27. J. Marusiak, A. Duleba, Z. Melisova-Bates and P. Lukáe, ‘Foreign policy: main trends, bilateral relations, Visegrad cooperation’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Kollár and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia 2001: a Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 2002), pp. 231–2. 28. Interview with Leonard Orban, deputy chief negotiator of Romania with the EU, in Bucharest, May 2001. He noted that the previous Isarescu Government had chosen the country’s deadline of 2007 and that the present Nastase Government had kept to the same date. 29. Interview with Arturs Karin ¸ s, chairman of the New Era parliamentary group in the Latvian Saeima, in Riga, May 2003, who commented: ‘our country feels itself part of the Baltic region’. See also European Affairs Committee, Latvian Saeima, report 31 March 2003, p. 6, on these bilateral parliamentary links (http://www. saeima.lv). 30. Pridham, ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy’, p. 965. 31. S. Huntington, ‘Political development and political decay’, World Politics, vol. 18, April 1965, p. 394. 32. It has, however, been given emphasis as one of the five arenas of democratic consolidation as the embodiment of rational-legal authority, see J. Linz and A. Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), chapters 1 and 2. 33. J. March and J. Olsen, ‘The new institutionalism: organisational factors in political life’, in American Political Science Review, September 1984, vol. 27, p. 738. 34. G. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratization: a Comparative Approach (London: Continuum, 2000), chapter 4.1. 35. On structural convergence, see M. Green Cowles, J. Caporaso and T. Risse, Transforming Europe: Europeanization and Domestic Change (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001), pp. 16–17. 36. European Commission, Enlargement Composite Paper 99 (Brussels, 1999), p. 23. 37. K. Goetz and H. Wollmann, ‘Governmentalizing central executives in postCommunist Europe: a four-country comparison’, in Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 8, no. 6, 2001, special issue on Executive Governance in Central and Eastern Europe, p. 878. 38. See M. Brusis and J. Emmanouilidis, Negotiating EU Accession: Policy Approaches of Advanced Candidate Countries from Central and Eastern Europe, Munich: Centre for Applied Policy Research (CAP), July 2000, pp. 12–14. 39. Interview with Nicolae Idu, director general, the European Institute of Romania, in Bucharest, May 2001. 40. Interview with Janis Vaivads, Director, European Bureau, in Riga, May 2003. 41. M. Wlachovsky, A. Duleba, P. Lukac and T. Skladony, ‘The foreign policy of the Slovak Republic’, in M. Bútora and T. Skladony (eds), Slovakia 1996–97: a Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 1998), pp. 82–83. 42. Interview with Frantisek Sebej, chairman of the European Integration Committee, Slovak National Council, in Bratislava, November 2000. 43. Interviews with Jaroslav Zvfrina, vice-chairman of the European Integration Committee, and with Vladimír Lastuvka, member of that committee, in Prague, March 2003. 44. Interviews with Nikolai Mladenov, vice-chairman of the European Affairs Committee, Bulgarian National Assembly, and with Assen Agov, vice-chairman of

Notes 249

45.

46.

47.

48. 49.

50.

51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

58.

the Bulgarian National Assembly and former chairman of its Foreign Policy Committee, in Sofia, September 2001. According to Ludfk Stavinoha, acting head of the Czech mission in Brussels, there were training courses for Czech civil servants in cooperation with the European Commission and organised by the administration in Prague while the Economics University of Prague provided courses on European integration for young diplomats (interview in Brussels, December 2002). Discontinuity of personnel involved in the accession business was particularly a problem in Romania’s case, especially in certain ministries (interview with Vasile Galgau, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Bucharest, May 2001). A major factor here was the low salary level of civil servants and the far better pay prospects in the private sector especially for those with EU expertise. This was noticeable for instance in the Bulgarian public administration where young people often headed the European integration departments in different ministries. There was no deliberate policy in Sofia based on an initiative from above but rather ‘a general feeling’ that had arisen among ministers. In the case of the Foreign Ministry, young people had been encouraged to apply for posts and those appointed ‘would be the future Bulgarian [public] servants in the European institutions’ (interview with Bisserka Benisheva, director, European Integration Directorate, Bulgarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Sofia, September 2001). Goetz and Wollmann, ‘Governmentalizing central executives’, pp. 881, 883. Interview with Simona Teodoriou, secretary of state for EU Affairs, Romanian Ministry of Justice, in Bucharest, October 2003. She noted, for example, that older civil servants in her ministry were used to working in the old-fashioned way with dossiers and that it was ‘not so normal [for them] to work with computers’. Interview with Radu Dobre, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and formerly in the Ministry of the Interior, in Bucharest, October 2003. It should be mentioned that the Ministry of European Integration in Bucharest is somewhat exceptional in the high proportion of young people in the ministry as a whole. It was created as a new ministry in early 2001 and this provided an opportunity for appointing new personnel as well as transferring EU experts from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratization, pp. 117–21. European Commission, Enlargement 98: Composite Paper on the Commission Reports (Brussels, 1998), p. 19. European Commission, Enlargement: Strategy Paper 2002 (Brussels, 2002), pp. 16–17. For example, interview with Marius Profiriou, secretary of state, Ministry of Administration and Interior, in Bucharest, October 2003. A. Jablonski, ‘The Europeanisation of government in Poland in the 1990s’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union (London: Routledge, 2000), p. 136. A. Ágh, Anticipatory and Adaptive Europeanization in Hungary (Budapest: Hungarian Centre for Democracy Studies, 2003), p. 117. J.-H. Meyer-Sahling, ‘Civil service reform in post-Communist Europe: the bumpy road to depoliticisation’, in West European Politics, vol. 27, no. 1, January 2004, pp. 71–103. V. Nizmansky and M. Kmazko, ‘Public administration’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Kollár and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia 2000: A Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava, Institute for Public Affairs, 2001), pp. 104–6. An official of the PHARE Programme responsible for the modernisation of public administration, in Bratislava since 1997, commented with some frustration on the difficulty of changing the Slovak bureaucracy because there was ‘the same mentality as

250 Notes

59. 60. 61.

62. 63.

64. 65.

66. 67.

68.

69.

70. 71. 72. 73.

74.

before 1989’ (interview with Hans de Facq, PHARE Programme, in Bratislava, May 2000). Latvia: Human Development Report 2000–2001 (Riga: UNDP, 2001), pp. 25–7, 49–50. European Parliament, Draft Report on Romania’s membership application to the European Union, 23 May 2001, p. 15. A prominent example was the issue of Medgyessy’s Communist past shortly after his appointment as prime minister of Hungary in mid-2002. The European Commission spokesman on enlargement noted that Hungary’s democracy was stable and made it clear that Brussels had no stance on the matter although some EU member states had shown concern at the moral implications (RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 25 June 2002). Interviews with Vasile Galgau, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Bucharest, May 2001; and with Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU delegation, in Bucharest, October 2003. A. Evans and G. Evans, ‘Improving government decision-making systems in Lithuania and Latvia’, in Journal of European Public Policy, special issue on executive governance in Central and Eastern Europe, edited by K. Goetz, vol. 8, no. 6, 2001, p. 935. A. Dimitrova, ‘Enlargement, institution-building and the EU’s administrative capacity requirement’, in West European Politics, vol. 25, no. 4, October 2002, p. 183. For example, European Affairs Committee, Latvian Saeima, The role of Saeima European Affairs Committee in the integration process, Riga, 2000, pp. 3–4, http://www.saeima.lv European Commission, Enlargement: Strategy Paper 2002, p. 90. Interviews with Radu Dobre, Romanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Bucharest, October 2003; and with Petr Jezek, Czech Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Prague, March 2003. The latter referred to ‘people who came here [to Prague] who were successful in the West and applied some principle that did not work in the Czech Republic’. D. Bailey and L. de Propris, ‘A bridge too Phare? EU pre-accession aid and capacity-building in the candidate countries’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 42, no. 1, March 2004, pp. 86–9. The Transparency International corruption scores for 2002 placed Slovenia and Estonia in a better state than Italy, followed by Hungary and Lithuania which were better than Greece. J.-H. Meyer-Sahling, ‘Personnel policy regimes, political discretion and civil service reform in Central and Eastern Europe’, paper for ECPR, Turin, March 2002, pp. 22–8. Jablonski, ‘The Europeanisation of government in Poland’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, p. 137. On this problem in Bulgaria, see Dimitrova, ‘Enlargement, institution-building’, pp. 184–6. In Romania, a high official in charge of public administration reform noted that its main obstacle was over ‘people understanding management’ (interview with Marius Profiriou, secretary of state, Ministry of Administration and Interior, in Bucharest, October 2003). Implementing civil service legislation in Romania had been hampered by the refusal to introduce a system of indicators as well as a lack of transparency and political interference over high officials which was strictly contrary to the new rules (interview with Sorin Ionit¸{, Romanian Academic Society, in Bucharest, October 2003). H. Grabbe, ‘How does Europeanization affect CEE governance? Conditionality, diffusion and diversity’, in Journal of European Public Policy, special issue, vol. 8, no. 6, p. 1019.

Notes 251 75. On this, see M. Brusis, ‘Europeanized state building? The European Union and regionalisation in the Czech and Slovak Republics’, paper for conference of the European University Institute on Europeanization and regionalism in CEE, Florence, May 2002. 76. Ibid., p. 2. 77. Bailey and De Propris, ‘A bridge too Phare?’, pp. 94, 96. 78. A. Ágh, Anticipatory and Adaptive Europeanization in Hungary, pp. 118, 120; Jablonski, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, pp. 139–42. On the interaction of this EU-induced reform with domestic politics, see M. Ferry, ‘The EU and regional reform in Poland’, in Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 55/7, November 2003. 79. D. Marek and M. Baun, ‘The EU as a regional actor: the case of the Czech Republic’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 40, no. 5, December 2002, pp. 895–919. 80. UNDP, Latvia: Human Development Report, 2000–2001, pp. 34, 42. 81. Interview with Ramona Umblija, head of the EU referendum unit in the Prime Minister’s Office, in Riga, May 2003. 82. Interview with Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU delegation to Romania, in Bucharest, October 2003. 83. See M. Green Cowles, J. Caporaso and T. Risse, Transforming Europe, chapter 1, pp. 6–9, on the ‘goodness of fit’. 84. According to one official in an EU delegation to CEE, ‘the EU is not adjusting to candidate countries’ and the creating of the necessary state capacity ‘is objectively manageable if managed up to the end; and subjectively is dependent on those in power’ (interview with Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU delegation to Romania, in Bucharest, October 2003). 85. Interview with Marius Profiriou, secretary of state, Romanian Ministry of Administration and Interior, in Bucharest, October 2003, who as an ardent state reformer wanted to create a modern Romanian administration ‘with French influence and British pragmatism’. 86. For example, cf. the semi-jocular comment of the vice-chairman of the Czech parliamentary European Integration Committee that ‘one reason to be a member state as soon as possible’ is to get away from Commission pressure as an accession state, referring to the Commission as being like ‘His Majesty’ (interview with Jaroslav Zvfrina, in Prague, March 2003). 87. UNDP, Latvia: Human Development Report 2000/2001, pp. 33, 42. 88. For example, see Green Cowles, Caporaso and Risse, Transforming Europe, pp. 11–12 and 229–30. 89. For example, the comment of David Ringrose, DG Enlargement, European Commission, that the prospect of EU entry ‘is an enormous help to reformers within countries’ in CEE which are negotiating membership (interview in Brussels, December 2002). 90. On Slovakia, see Pridham, ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy’, pp. 963– 66. According to Jan Wiersma, rapporteur on Slovakia in the EP, ‘the pull factor from the EU is so strong that these problems [referring to “old structures” from the Communist and Meeiar periods] will diminish’ (interview in Brussels, December 2002). 91. Z. Kalaydjieva, ‘An independent judicial system in the context of EU accession’, in European Institute, Sofia, Bulgaria’s Progress towards EU Membership in 2000 – the NGOs’ Perspective (Sofia, 2001), p. 18. 92. T. Carothers, Aiding Democracy Abroad: the Learning Curve (Washington: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1999), pp. 165, 173–4.

252 Notes 93. Interview with Petr Jezek, Deputy Secretary of State for European Affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Prague, March 2003. According to a senior official in the Czech mission to the EU, judicial reform ‘was needed anyway; the EU is the accelerator’. 94. European Commission, 2002 Regular Report on Latvia’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2002), p. 34. 95. Interview with Andrew Rasbash, head of EU delegation to Latvia, in Riga, May 2003. 96. European Commission, 2002 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2002), p. 37. 97. The Judicial System Strategy of Reform, 2003–2007, Government decision no. 1052, 2003. 98. According to Sorin Ionit¸{, Romanian Academy Society, in reference to judicial reform, ‘written things are agreed with Brussels, but the reality points the other way’ (interview in Bucharest, October 2003). 99. Interview with Simona Teodoriou, secretary of state for EU Affairs, Romanian Ministry of Justice, in Bucharest, October 2003. She nevertheless commented that the push from Brussels was important for, while there was ‘also an internal need for judicial reform, the rhythm came from the EU’. 100. Interview with Simona Teodoriou, secretary of state for EU Affairs, Romanian Ministry of Justice, in Bucharest, October 2003. 101. Interview with Václav Zák, editor of Listy: Journal for Politics and Culture, in Prague, March 2003. 102. Interview with Andrew Rasbash, head of the EU delegation to Latvia, in Riga, May 2003. 103. European Commission, 2001 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress Towards Accession (Brussels, 2001), p. 21. 104. European Commission, 2002 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress Towards Accession (Brussels, 2002), p. 26. 105. Interview with Simona Teodoriou, secretary of state for EU Affairs, Romanian Ministry of Justice, in Bucharest, October 2003. 106. M. Vaseeka, ‘Roma’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Kollár and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia 2002: A Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 2003), pp. 180–1. 107. European Commission, Composite Paper: Reports on Progress Towards Accession by Each of the Candidate Countries (Brussels, 1999), p. 16. 108. Speech by Günter Verheugen, European commissioner for enlargement, Brussels, 5 March 2001 (participant observation by the author; EU–Slovak Republic JPC, Minutes of the 11th Meeting, 5–6 March 2001, p. 2). 109. Interview with Assen Agov, vice-chairman of the Bulgarian National Assembly, in Sofia, September 2001. 110. Interview with Gabriel Andreescu, director, Association for the Defence of Human Rights in Romania, in Bucharest, October 2003. 111. European Commission, 2002 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 2002), pp. 35–7. 112. European Commission, 1999 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress towards Accession (Brussels, 1999), p. 15. 113. European Parliament, Draft Report on Romania’s Membership Application to the European Union, 23 May 2001, p. 7. 114. European Commission, 1999 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress towards Accession, p. 16.

Notes 253 115. Interviews with Maria Ligor, general director, EU Department, Romanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs; and with Leonard Orban, deputy chief negotiator, both in Bucharest, October 2003. 116. European Commission, 2001 Regular Report on Romania’s Progress Towards Accession (Brussels, 2001), p. 23.

5 The Political Arena and Intermediary Actors in Candidate Countries: Political Parties, Opinion-makers and Public Impacts 1. K. Lawson, ‘When linkage fails’, in K. Lawson and P. Merkl (eds), When Parties Fail: Emerging Alternative Organisations (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 16–17. 2. For example, the survey in Latvia of July 2003 (a few months before the referendum there on EU accession) which showed that most members of the public got information on the EU from TV and radio programmes and to a rather lesser extent through reading material or discussions with personal contacts (Latvijas Fakti, Attitude in Society towards Latvia’s European Union Membership: Survey Result Analyses, July 2003, pp. 5, 17–18). 3. C. Anderson, ‘When in doubt, use proxies: attitudes towards domestic politics and support for European integration’, in Comparative Political Studies, October 1998, p. 571. 4. For example, ibid., p. 586; R. Cichowski, Choosing Democracy: Citizen Attitudes and the Eastern Enlargement of the European Union, EUI working paper RSC no. 2000/12, European University Institute, Florence, 2000, p. 27. 5. P. Mair, ‘The limited impact of Europe on national party systems’, in K. Goetz and S. Hix (eds), Europeanised Politics?: European Integration and National Political Systems, special issue of West European Politics, October 2000, pp. 27–51. 6. See the comments on Mair’s sceptical view in P. Lewis, The Impact of the Enlargement of the European Union on Central European Party Systems, SEI Working Paper No. 71, Sussex European Institute, 2003. 7. T. Risse, ‘A European identity? Europeanisation and the evolution of nation-state identities’, in M. Green Cowles, J. Caporaso and T. Risse (eds), Transforming Europe: Europeanisation and Domestic Change (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001), pp. 200–3. 8. E. Stadtmüller, ‘Polish perceptions of the European Union in the 1990s’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union (London: Routledge, 2000), p. 35. 9. See G. Pridham, ‘Complying with the European Union’s democratic conditionality: transnational party linkages and regime change in Slovakia, 1993–98’, in Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 51, no. 7, November 1999, pp. 1221–44. 10. G. Pridham, ‘Romania and European Union accession: the domestic dimension’, in The Romanian Journal of Society and Politics, vol. 1, no. 2, November 2001, pp. 41–2. 11. For example, the 2000 Commission report on Slovakia referred briefly to ‘the internal tensions within the four-party coalition government’, including the Hungarian party’s threat to leave it, which ‘have negatively affected the smooth progress of some politically sensitive elements of the pre-accession legislative agenda’ (European Commission, 2000 Regular Report on Slovakia’s Progress towards Accession, Brussels, 2000, p. 16). 12. According to a top official on the Slovakia desk in the Commission, ‘you have to be careful’ as this Internal government matter has ‘nothing to do with enlargement’

254 Notes

13.

14.

15.

16. 17. 18.

19.

20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

29. 30.

(interview with Dirk Meganck, DG Enlargement, European Commission, in Brussels, December 2002). This paragraph is based on a discussion with one EU delegation head (interviews with Eric van der Linden, head of the EU delegation to Slovakia, in Bratislava, April 2002 and September 2002). At the time, he expressed great caution about a meeting with Meeiar before the Slovak election of September 2002 because of the latter’s negative reputation abroad and the possibility that Meeiar might exploit such a meeting in the heat of the election campaign. This was the case with EU delegation contacts with the Greater Romania Party (PRM) (interview with Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU delegation to Romania, in Bucharest, October 2003). This form of low-level contact with that controversial party, not least because of Tudor’s penchant for outrageous statements, was coordinated in Brussels among the EU member states (interview with Susan Laffey, British Embassy, in Bucharest, May 2001). This paragraph is based on an interview witth Pavol Demes, who chaired this meeting (interview, Bratislava, March 2004) and on material supplied by Helen Campbell, DG Enlargement, European Commission, who accompanied Commissioner van den Broek on this visit to Slovakia. This included the text of his speech, the official programme of the visit and the press release at the end of the visit. Narodna Obroda, 6 April 2002; RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 23 April 2002. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 11 February 2000. M. Vachudova, ‘Strategies for democratisation and European integration in the Balkans’, in M. Cremona (ed.), The Enlargement of the European Union (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 149. A similar distinction is employed by P. Kopecky and C. Mudde, ‘The two sides of Euroscepticism: party positions on European integration in East Central Europe’, in European Union Politics, vol. 3, no. 3, pp. 297–326, where they conceptualise party positions according to diffuse support (for the general ideas of integration) and specific support for integration in practice, that is, the EU as it is actually developing. Interview with Nikolai Mladenov, UDF vice-chairman of the European Committee, Bulgarian National Assembly, in Sofia, September 2001. R. Herbut, ‘Parties and the Polish party system: the process of structuring the political space’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, pp. 103–4. K. Hughes, H. Grabbe and E. Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, Institute for German Studies, University of Birmingham, Discussion Paper no. IGS99/3, p. 84, where it was noted that controversy had ignited during 1998 over such specific issues like gelatine, milk, steel and borders. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 15 March 2002 and 5 December 2002. The Guardian, 13 December 2002. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 20 September 2002. Ibid., 30 September 2002. Ibid., 4 October 2002. S. Hanley, ‘Party institutionalisation and Centre-Right Euroscepticism in East-Central Europe: the Case of the Civic Democratic Party in the Czech Republic’, paper presented at the ECPR sessions, Turin, March 2002, pp. 11, 13–15. P. Taggart and A. Szczerbiak, ‘The party politics of Euroscepticism in EU member and candidate states’, paper for the ECPR sessions, Turin, March 2002, pp. 9–13. Cf. Kopecky and Mudde, ‘The two sides of Euroscepticism’, p. 317.

Notes 255 31. See P. Lewis, Political Parties in Post-Communist Eastern Europe (London: Routledge, 2000), pp. 143–6. 32. Kopecky and Mudde, ‘The two sides of Euroscepticism’, p. 318. 33. Ibid., pp. 320–1. 34. Ibid., pp. 312–13. 35. Ibid., p. 311. 36. For example, see Lewis, The Impact of the Enlargement of the EU on Central European Party Systems, pp. 9, 16. 37. Kopecky and Mudde, pp. 307–13. 38. Ibid., p. 305. 39. Herbut, ‘Parties and the Polish party system’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, pp. 103–4. 40. A. Antoszewski, ‘Political competition in Poland: traditionalisation or westernisation?’ in Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, p. 82. 41. Interview with Vladimír Müller, international secretary of the ESSD, in Prague, February 2003. 42. Hanley, ‘Party institutionalisation and Centre-Right Euroscepticism in East-Central Europe’, pp. 16–18. 43. Interview with Jan Zahradil, first deputy chairman of the ODS, in Prague, February 2003. 44. Interview with Svftlana Navarová, international secretary of the CSSD, in Prague, November 1995. 45. Interviews with Heinz Fischer, chairman of the SI’s European Forum for Democracy and Solidarity and president of the Austrian Parliament, in Vienna, November 1995; and, with Bo Toresson, secretary-general of this European Forum, in Brussels, January 1996. 46. Interview with Svftlana Navarová, in Prague, November 1995. 47. Interview with Bo Toresson, in Brussels, January 1996. 48. Interview with Rune Glasberg, ELDR, in Brussels, February 2001. 49. E. Giatzidis, An Introduction to Post-Communist Bulgaria (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002), p. 56. 50. Interview with Ildikó Haraszti, international secretary of the MKDH, in Bratislava, November 1995. 51. Interview with Tchetin Kazak, DPS member of the National Assembly, in Sofia, September 2001. 52. Interview with Kemal Ejub, DPS member of the National Assembly, in Sofia, September 2001. 53. Giatzidis, An Introduction to Post-Communist Bulgaria, p. 56. 54. F. Kalambayi, ‘Position of the mass media on the map of players and problems inherent to Romania’s accession to the European Union (a summary)’, in The Map of Players and Issues of the Accession to the European Union (Bucharest: Open Society Foundation, 2003), p. 122. 55. Interview with Audrius Azubalis, chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee, Lithuanian Parliament (Seimas), in Vilnius, July 2000. 56. Interview with Christian Bourgin, deputy head of EU delegation to the Czech Republic, in Prague, February 2003. 57. Interview with David Ringrose, DG Enlargement, European Commission, in Brussels, December 2002. 58. UNDP, A Decade Later: Understanding the Transition Process in Romania – National Human Development Report, Romania 2001–2 (Bucharest: UNDP, 2002), p. 48.

256 Notes 59. Interview with Alin Teodorescu, director of the Institute of Marketing and Polls (IMAS), in Bucharest, October 2003. 60. Interview with Mircea Kivu, director, Polls Department IMAS, in Bucharest, October 2003. 61. Slovenská Spoloenost pre Zahranienú Politiku, Slovenské Európske Fórum Mimovládnych Organizácií (Bratislava, 2002). 62. G. Pridham, Latvia’s EU Accession Referendum, 20 September 2003, Referendum Briefing No. 10, 2003, European Parties Elections and Referendums Network (EPERN), University of Sussex, p. 8. 63. For example, in Slovakia it was observed that during 2001 citizens were becoming increasingly interested in the details of Slovakia’s EU entry while, at the same time, being critical of the lack of information on the issue (O. Gyárfásová and M. Velsic, ‘Public Opinion’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Kollár and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia 2001: a Global Report on the State of Society, Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 2002, p. 22). 64. This is for instance very noticeable in the Czech Republic where according to surveys the public put the media significantly ahead of government representatives, academic institutes, members of parliament and political parties as a credible and preferred source of information on EU accession (K. von Schnurbein, Der Tschechische EU-Beitritt: Politischer Prozess wider die Offentliche Meinung?, Bonn, Zentrum für Europaische Integrationsforschung, Working Paper C 105, 2002, p. 9). 65. S. Niculae, ‘Media coverage of European integration (a summary)’, in The Map of Players and Issues of the Accession to the European Union (Bucharest: Open Society Foundation), pp. 129–33. 66. Interviews with Petr Zavadil, specialist in EU affairs and later deputy editor, Lidové Noviny, in Prague, March 2000 and February 2003. 67. Interview with Karel Barták, CTK correspondent, in Brussels, February 2001. 68. Interview with Robert Sermek, TASR correspondent, in Brussels, February 2001. 69. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, pp. 64–5. 70. Interview with Adam Cerny, Hospodarské Noviny, in Prague, February 2003. 71. Interview with Karel Barták, CTK correspondent, in Brussels, February 2001. 72. K. von Schnurbein, Der Tschechische EU-Beitritt, p. 9. 73. Interview with Adam Cerny, Hospodarske Noviny, in Prague, February 2003. 74. Interview with Ludfk Zahradnícfk, deputy head of the Communications Strategy Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Prague, February 2003. 75. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, p. 97; interview with Nicola Bulte, EU delegation to Romania, in Bucharest, May 2001. 76. S. Niculae, ‘Media coverage of European integration’, p. 128. 77. Interview with Vasile Galgau, director-general, Directorate-General for the EU, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in Bucharest, May 2001. 78. Interview with Alexandru Lazescu, president of the Monitorul Media Group, in Bucharest, May 2001. 79. Cichowski, Choosing Democracy, pp. 9, 16; Anderson, ‘When in doubt, use proxies’, Comparative Political Studies, p. 577. 80. Cichowski, Choosing Democracy, pp. 15–16. 81. Pridham, ‘Latvia’s EU Accession Referendum’, p. 5. 82. Anderson, When in doubt, use proxies’, Comparative Political Studies, p. 570.

Notes 257 83. A. Ágh, ‘Europeanisation of policy-making in East Central Europe: the Hungarian approach to EU accession’, in Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 6 no. 5, December 1999, p. 847. 84. K. Krause, ‘The ambivalent influence of the European Union on democratisation in Slovakia’, in Kubicek, The European Union and Democratization, pp. 77–9. 85. Cf. Cichowski, Choosing Democracy, pp. 26–7; A. Caplanova, M. Orviska and J. Hudson, ‘Eastern European attitudes to integration with Western Europe’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 42, no. 2, June 2004, pp. 271–88. 86. C. Haerpfer, ‘New democracies barometer: attitudes towards EU accession in the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, Slovakia and Slovenia’, in Z. Mansfeldová and M. Klima (eds), The Role of the Central European Parliaments in the Process of European Integration (Prague: Institute of Sociology, Academy of Sciences, 1998), pp. 196–8; GfK Slovakia, Public Awareness Campaign: Research on EU Information Sources and Target Audiences in the Slovak Republic and a Proposal for Communication Strategy on the EU in the Slovak Republic (Bratislava, 1998), p. 40. 87. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 5 February 2002. 88. I. Shikova and K. Nikolov, The Political Economy of the Eastern Enlargement of the European Union: a Case Study of Bulgaria (Sofia: Bulgarian European Community Studies Association, 1999), p. 29. 89. E. Stadtmüller, ‘Polish perceptions of the European Union in the 1990s’, in K. Cordell (ed.), Poland and the European Union, pp. 41–2; I. Brinar and M. Svetlicic, ‘Enlargement of the European Union: the case of Slovenia’, in Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 6, no. 5, December 1999, p. 814. 90. This paragraph is based on various sources: Haerpfer, ‘New democracies barometer’, in Mansfeldova and Klima (eds), The Role of the Central European Parliament, pp. 187–96; I. Brinar, ‘Slovenia: from Yugoslavia to the European Union’, in K. Henderson (ed.), Back to Europe: Central and Eastern Europe and the European Union (London: UCL Press, 1999), p. 253; A. Bozóki and G. Karácsony, ‘Membership without belonging?: Hungary into the European Union – a historic step passively approved’, in Central European Political Science Review, Fall 2003, pp. 28–30; and, Pridham, ‘Latvia’s EU Accession Referendum’, p. 6. 91. See M. Kucia, ‘Public opinion in Central Europe on EU accession: the Czech Republic and Poland’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 37, no. 1, March 1999, p. 151. 92. For example, the series of articles on these chapters in the Slovak daily newspaper Sme during the second half of 2003. 93. GfK Slovakia, Public Awareness Campaign, p. 25. 94. Ibid., pp. 25, 32. 95. cf. Anderson, ‘When in doubt, use proxies’, in Comparative Political Studies, pp. 569–601. 96. cf. the comment of a senior pollster in Romania (where pro-EU support remained extremely high) that the level of public support ‘definitely influences party positions, for nobody dares to express negative reactions to the EU’ (interview with Mircea Kivu, director, Polls Department, IMAS, in Bucharest, October 2003. 97. Pridham, ‘Latvia’s EU Accession Referendum’, pp. 2–3. 98. B. Fowler, ‘The Hungarian EU Accession Referendum, 12 April 2003’, Opposing Europe Research Network, Referendum Briefing No. 4, pp. 5–7. 99. S. Hanley, ‘The Czech EU Accession Referendum, 13–14 June 2003’, Opposing Europe Research Network, Referendum Briefing No. 6.

258 Notes 100. E. Mikkel, ‘The Estonian EU Accession Referendum, 14 September 2003’, EPERN Referendum Briefing No. 11, p. 6. 101. Pridham, ‘Latvia’s EU Accession Referendum’, pp. 7–8. 102. Ibid., pp. 9–10. 103. D. Lajh and A. Krasovec, ‘The Slovenian EU (and NATO) Accession Referendum(s), 23 March 2003’, Opposing Europe Research Network, Referendum Briefing No. 3, p. 4. 104. Latvian Facts, Attitude in Society toward Latvia’s European Union Membership: Survey Result Analyses, Riga, April 2003, pp. 15–16.

6 The Socio-economic Arena and Deepening Democracy: Economic Transformation, Civil Society and Ethnic Minorities in Candidate Countries 1. A. Szczerbiak, ‘Polish public opinion: explaining declining support for EU membership’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 39, no. 1, March 2001, pp. 115–17. 2. Euro Info Centre, Opinions of Czech SMEs of the Situation concerning the Czech Republic joining the European Union, Prague, 7 September 1999, p. 24. 3. K. Hughes, H. Grabbe and E. Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, Institute for German Studies, University of Birmingham, Discussion Paper No. IGS99/3, pp. 97–8. 4. Cf. A. Smith, The Return to Europe: the Reintegration of Eastern Europe into the European Economy (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2000), pp. 179ff. 5. P. Machonin, Results of a Czech-Slovak Comparison: Actors of Social Transformation and Modernisation, Institute of Sociology, Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Working Paper 98:2, 1998, pp. 18–19. 6. UNDP Romania, A Decade Later: Understanding the Transition Process in Romania – National Human Development Report Romania 2001–2, Bucharest, 2002, p. 31. 7. European Voice, 2–8 May 2002. 8. Euro Info Centre, Opinions of Czech SMEs, p. 23. 9. Interview with Ján Fígel, Chief Negotiator of Slovakia with the EU 1998–2003, Bratislava, March 2004. 10. Interview with Petr Greger, Director of the Euro-Czech Forum, in Prague, February 2003; Euro-Czech Forum, Agenda 2003 (Prague: Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, January 2003), p. 5. 11. Interview with Silvana Lyubenova, director for European Integration, Bulgarian Ministry of Economy, in Sofia, September 2001. 12. European Economic and Social Commitee, Bulgaria on the Road to Accession, Brussels: CES 931/2001, 11 July 2001, p. 4. 13. N. Perez-Solorzano Borragon, ‘The Europeanisation of interest group politics in Central and Eastern Europe’, paper for UACES 30th anniversary conference, Budapest, April 2000, pp. 5–6. 14. See D. Sidjanski, ‘Transition to democracy and European integration: the role of interest groups in Southern Europe’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Encouraging Democracy: the International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1991), pp. 195–211. 15. Interviews with Petr Greger, director of the Euro-Czech Forum, in Prague, February 2003; with Václav Smejkal, director of the Centre for European Integration, Economic Chamber of the Czech Republic, in Prague, March 2000; and, with

Notes 259

16.

17. 18.

19. 20.

21.

22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

29.

30.

31. 32. 33.

34. 35. 36. 37.

Evgeni Ivanov, secretary-general of the Employers’ Association of Bulgaria, in Sofia, September 2001. D. Fink-Hafner, ‘The Europeanising role of interest organisations in the Slovenian parliamentary policy-making’, in Z. Mansfeldova and M. Klima (eds), The Role of the Central European Parliaments in the Process of European Integration (Prague: Institute of Sociology, Academy of Sciences, Czech Republic, 1998), p. 245. Ibid., pp. 247–8. See, for example, H. Tang (ed.), Winners and Losers of EU Integration: Policy Issues for Central and Eastern Europe (Washington, DC.: The World Bank, 2000), based on contributions to a conference of network institutes. Ibid., pp. 39–42. B. Newton and L. Walsh, ‘The Czech Republic: the economic road to transformation’, in M. Mannin (ed.), Pushing Back the Boundaries: the European Union and Central and Eastern Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), p. 232. Hughes, Grabbe and Smith, Attitudes of the Central and East European Countries to Integration, p. 86; A. Bulai and V. Mihailescu, ‘The peasantry – player and problem: local development strategies and communication strategies from the European integration perspective’, in Map of Players and Issues of the Accession to the European Union; Bucharest Open Society Foundation, 2003, pp. 81–2. M. Karasinska-Fendler, E. Skotnicka-Illasiewicz, K. Sobota and J. Swierkocki, ‘Poland’ in Tang, Winners and Losers of EU Integration, pp. 177–8. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 16 August 2002. The Independent, 10 October 2002. The Times, 7 February 2002. See European Voice, 14–20 February 2002 and Daily Telegraph, 14 April 2003 for reports on respectively the Czech Republic and Hungary in this regard. G. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratization: a Comparative Approach (London: Continuum, 2000), pp. 239–40. L. Katseli, ‘The internationalisation of Southern European economies’, in H. Gibson (ed.), Economic Transformation, Democratization and Integration into the European Union: Southern Europe in Comparative Perspective (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2001), pp. 104–6. See K. Quigley, For Democracy’s Sake: Foundations and Democracy Assistance in Central Europe (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1997), pp. 27, 42 and 56. S. Mendelson and J. Glenn, Democracy Assistance and NGO Strategies in Post-Communist Societies, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Washington, Working Paper No. 8, February 2000, executive summary, p. iii. Pridham, The Dynamics of Democratization, pp. 233–4. See M.M. Howard, The Weakness of Civil Society in Post-Communist Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 155 and chapter 2. For example, A. Craiutu, ‘Light at the end of the tunnel: Romania, 1989–1998’, in G. Pridham and T. Gallagher (eds), Experimenting with Democracy: Regime Change in the Balkans (London: Routledge, 2000), p. 171. Howard, The Weakness of Civil Society in Post-Communist Europe, p. 151. Ibid., p. 152. For example, see article by leading OSI figures, J. Goldston and R. Guglielmo, in European Voice, 31 October–7 November 2001. K. Hamann, ‘European integration and civil society in Spain’, in South European Society and Politics, vol. 8, nos. 1–2, summer–autumn 2003, p. 62.

260 Notes 38. T. Carothers, ‘Western civil-society aid to Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union’, in East European Constitutional Review, vol. 8, no. 4, Fall 1999, p. 61. 39. For example, the comment of a member of the EU delegation to Bulgaria that NGOs provide regular information to the EU which is ‘useful in assessing the situation over the implementation of the acquis’ (interview with Christian Stock, EU delegation, in Sofia, September 2001). 40. ISA Consult, European Institute (Sussex University) and GJW Europe, Final Report: Evaluation of the Phare and Tacis Democracy Programme, 1992–1997 (Brighton and Hamburg, November 1997), p. 77. 41. Ibid., pp. 52–3. 42. European Commission, DG External Economic Relations, The European Union’s Phare and Tacis Democracy Programme: Projects in Operation 1996 (Brussels, 1996), pp. 121–4. 43. Interviews with Iveta Radieová, SPACE Foundation, in Bratislava, April 2002; and, with Balázs Jarábik, Pontis Foundation, in Bratislava, March 2004. 44. Interviews with Eric van den Linden, EU ambassador to Slovakia, in Bratislava, April and September 2002, when among other things he commented: ‘Let’s be honest, there’s not perfect neutrality; there’s a lot at stake in this election, possibly more than in 1998.’ See also van den Linden’s interview in The Slovak Spectator, 8–14 April 2002. 45. D. Reichardt, ‘Democracy promotion in Slovakia an import or export business?’, in Perspectives: The Central European Review of International Affairs, summer 2002, pp. 12–13. 46. Ibid., p. 18. 47. Interview with Jessica Houghton, Foundation for Civil Society (NOS), in Bratislava, November 2000. 48. Reichardt, ‘Democracy promotion in Slovakia’, pp. 15–17. 49. Interview with Pavol Demes, German Marshall Fund of the US, in Bratislava, April 2002; also, interview with Balázs Jarábik, Freedom House, in Bratislava, September 2002. Several Slovak NGOs, based mainly in Bratislava, focussed specially on EU affairs. For a full list of Slovak NGOs involved in one way or another in EU affairs, see Slovak Policy Foreign Association (SFPA), Slovenské Európske Forum Mimovládnych Organizácií (Bratislava, 2002). 50. Interview with Pavol Demes, German Marshall Fund of the US, in Bratislava, September 2002. 51. Inerviews with Pavol Demes and Balázs Jarábik, in Bratislava, respectively in April 2002 and March 2004. 52. Cf. the comment of Ivan Krastev, Centre for Liberal Strategies in Bulgaria, in autumn 2001 that NGO involvement in EU affairs was ‘just starting’ (interview in Sofia, September 2001). 53. Interview with Balázs Jarábik, Pontis Foundation, in Bratislava, March 2004. 54. Interview with Pavol Demes, German Marshall Fund of the US, in Bratislava, March 2004. 55. Interview with Iveta Radieová, SPACE Foundation, in Bratislava, May 2000. 56. Interviews with Stanislav Daskalov, European Institute, Bulgaria, and with Bisserka Benisheva, head of European Integration Directorate Ministry of Foreign Affairs, both in Sofia, September 2001. 57. Interview witth Slavitza Dobreva, Directorate of Accession Strategies and EU Integration, Ministry of Environment, in Sofia, September 2001. 58. Interview with Vasile Pubcab, Romania’s chief negotiator with the EU, Ministry of European Integration, in Bucharest, October 2003.

Notes 261 59. Interview with Nils Muiznieks, head of the Human Rights Centre from 1996 and Latvian Minister of Social Integration from 2002–04, in Riga, May 2003. 60. Interview with Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU Delegation to Romania, in Bucharest, May 2001. 61. Interview with Emília Sieáková, head of TI Slovakia, in Bratislava, September 2002. 62. Cf. the comment of Codru Vrabre, TI Romania, that the EU impact on Romania over corruption was ‘not much outside government’ (interview in Bucharest, October 2003). 63. Interview with Dirk Meganck, DG Enlargement, European Commission negotiator with Slovakia, in Brussels, December 2002. 64. Interview with Nils Muiznieks, in Riga, May 2003. 65. Interview with Vita Terauda, director, Cenre for Public Policy (Providus), in Riga, April 2004. 66. This is a view invariably held by NGO leaders themselves, for example, P. Demes and K. Kostalova, ‘Slowakische Nichtregierungsorganisationen und ihre Zusammenarbeit mit deutschen Partnern’, in M. Wenig (ed.), Die Bürgergesellschaft als ein Motor der Europaischen Integration, Zentrum für Europaische Integrationsforschung, Discussion Paper C71 2000 (Bonn, 2000), p. 46. 67. A. Francis, ‘Environmental issues in CEEC transformation: environment as a challenge to enlargement’, in M. Mannin (ed.), Pushing Back the Boundaries: the European Union and Central and Eastern Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), p. 179. 68. T. Carothers, Assessing Democracy Assistance: the Case of Romania (Washington, DC.: Carnegie Endowment, 1996), p. 89. 69. Interview with Kaja Miková, Partners for Democratic Change, in Bratislava, November 2000. 70. R. Coward, ‘EU-funded road set to ruin Poland’s wildlife paradise’, in The Observer, 19 May 2002. 71. K. Carstens, ‘Czech NGOs suffer road rage’, in European Voice, 5–11 June 2003. 72. On the Czech Republic, see R. Fawn, The Czech Republic: a Nation of Velvet (Amsterdam: Harwood, 2000), pp. 116–17. 73. RFE/RL Newsline, part II, 16 October 2002. 74. Deutschland, February/March 2002, p. 33. 75. European Voice, 28 May–4 June 2003. 76. On the Polish case, see European Voice, 10–16 April 2003. 77. For an extensive assessment of the EU role over human rights, see P. Alston (ed.), The EU and Human Rights (Oxford: Oxford Universiy Press, 1999). 78. M. Zolkos, ‘The Copenhagen human rights criteria and the relevance of the post-Communist context’, paper for UACES conference, London, April 2003, pp. 7–8. 79. M. Kusy, ‘Human rights’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Kollár and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia 2001: a Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 2002), p. 125. 80. M. Kusy, ‘Human rights’, in G. Meseznikov, M. Kollár and T. Nicholson (eds), Slovakia 2002: a Global Report on the State of Society (Bratislava: Institute for Public Affairs, 2003), pp. 143–4. 81. Interview with Nils Muiznieks, head of the Human Rights Centre, in Riga, May 2003. 82. N. Muiznieks and I. Brands Kehris, ‘The European Union, democratisation and minorities in Latvia’, in P. Kubicek (ed.), The European Union and Democratization (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 51.

262 Notes 83. Interview with Iveta Radieová, SPACE Foundation, in Bratislava, April 2002. 84. Open Society Institute, Monitoring the EU Accession Process: Minority Protection (2001), p. 19. 85. M. Casle-Kanerova and B. Jordan, Local Strategies for Civic Inclusion in a European Context: the Roma in the Czech Republic, ESRC One Europe or Several? Working Paper 34/01 (Falmer: Sussex University, 2001), p. 24. 86. Open Society Institute, Monitoring the EU Accession Process: Minority Protection (2001), pp. 25–6. 87. Interview with Gabriel Andreescu, Centre for International Studies, in Bucharest, October 2003. 88. European Institute, Bulgaria’s Progress towards EU Membership in 2000 – the NGOs’ Perspective (Sofia, 2001), p. 55.

Sources and Selected Bibliography Three forms of primary material have been utilised. Most importantly, elite interviews were conducted during the project period but also several years before that from 1993 – altogether in seven countries of CEE (as well as a few EU member states) and also with EU institutions in Brussels. The main categories of interview respondents in Brussels were staff from DG Enlargement in the European Commission, staff and some MEPs as well as transnational party officials from the European Parliament and officials from some CEE missions as well as some journalists from CEECs. People interviewed in the capitals of CEECs were some prime ministers and cabinet ministers, senior officials in government offices and foreign and other ministries, relevant members of national parliaments such as the chairs of European and also foreign affairs committees, the heads or other officials of EU delegations to these countries, some party leaders and especially international secretaries of political parties, members of policy institutes and journalists specialising in EU affairs. All these interviews from 1993 are listed below for interest’s sake and as an acknowledgement of respondents’ willingness and time given (most interviews lasted 50–60 minutes). Furthermore, interview responses have influenced interpretation while writing whether cited or not. Their details are given under countries, dates of visits to these and then in chronological order. As a whole, there has been a preference for quoting the names of interview respondents for reasons of attribution and background interest, except where in the few cases there was a request not to do so (the main discretion was exercised by some European Commission officials; and the author consulted carefully with several Brussels contacts over attribution in academic work). In general, short extracts from interviews have been used in the text of this book. Nearly all the interviews were tape-recorded. Second, primary material also consisted of official documentation from both the EU and the candidate countries and also some other international organisations. Whereas the full citations are given in the chapters, a note is below provided on the main categories to give the reader a general picture. Third, news reports such as those of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty and the quarterly bulletins of the Collegium Carolinum, Munich on the Czech and Slovak Republics were a regular source of background developments; while the monitoring reports of the Open Society Institute (OSI) on minority protection, corruption and judicial independence as also the yearbooks on the state of society in Slovakia of the Institute for Public Affairs in Bratislava were invaluable. Newspaper sources consisted of four British quality dailies which were regularly monitored for enlargement news, occasional use of the German press, a subscription during this period of European Voice and also one Slovak daily was read on a regular basis. This category of miscellaneous sources also included fairly regular use of websites from some CEECs, including both government and parliamentary institutions and daily newspapers, but also of the Euractiv website on EU affairs. Some opinion poll surveys were consulted; and selected working papers of European studies institutes were used. In general, as usually happens with writing books, much more material is collected and read than is directly used in references. This book finally draws on secondary sources. These consist of books and journal articles as well as some conference papers to keep in touch with ongoing research on

263

264 Sources and Selected Bibliography related work by other scholars. A selection of these are listed below in the Selected Bibliography although complete details of direct use of such secondary sources are available in the chapter citations.

Official documentation EU material consisted of the annual progress reports of the European Commission on candidate countries, collected on ten CEECs for the years 1998 to 2003 inclusive as well as annual reports on certain CEECs from the European Parliament. Also used were the proceedings of the Joint Parliamentary Committees on different CEECs (two meetings of these were attended for observer participation, both on Slovakia) and reports on the activities of the PHARE Programme. Various sources from the transnational parties were consulted such as news bulletins of the three main European party federations, their membership lists and also manifestoes and publicity material. Documentation of other international organisations included the human development country reports of the UNDP, the regular news bulletin of the OSCE and country reports of the OECD and the EBRD as well as some country evaluation reports of the Council of Europe. Government documentation from CEECs included material from various ministries, especially the reports on progress in integration into the EU and national programmes for the adoption of the acquis communautaire. Also, the regular news monitoring reports of the official news agencies in Slovakia (TASR) and Latvia (LETA) were enjoyed for background information. Some national party documentation was collected such as programmes and some ad hoc correspondence with the European transnational parties.

Elite interviews Brussels April 1993 David Blackman, Secretariat, European Parliament

January 1996 Bo Toresson, secretary-general, European Forum for Democracy and Solidarity (Socialist International) Peter Brown-Pappamikail, Party of European Socialists Stephen Biller, adviser, European People’s Party Bo Manderup Jensen, deputy secretary-general, European Liberal, Democrat and Reform Party Geoff Harris, head of Secretariat, Joint Parliamentary Committees, European Parliament Ralph Mono, secretary-general, European Federation of Green Parties Lex Corijn, international officer, European Liberal, Democrat and Reform Party Klaus Welle, secretary-general of European People’s Party

February 2001 Geoff Harris, head of Secretariat, Joint Parliamentary Committees, European Parliament Juraj Migas, head of Slovak Mission to the EU Bernd Biervert, Slovakia Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission

Sources and Selected Bibliography 265 Kristin Schreiber, Commissioner Verheugen’s cabinet, DG Enlargement, European Commission Friedrich Roll, Party of European Socialists Stefan Pfitzner, Secretariat, European Parliament Ricardo Pascual-Bremon, deputy head, DG External Relations, European Commission Zsolt Becsey, envoy extraordinary, Hungarian Mission to the EU Mechtild May, Hungary Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Alexander Herlea, head of Romanian Mission to the EU Nicholas Whyte, Centre for European Policy Studies Daniela von Bethlenfalvy, Secretariat, Joint Parliamentary Committees, European Parliament Rune Glasberg, political officer, European Liberal, Democrat and Reform Party Martin Dawson, Czech Republic Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Helen Campbell, Bulgaria Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Antoinette Primatarova, head of the Bulgarian Mission to the EU Klaus Welle, secretary-general, Group of European People’s Party, European Parliament Christian Kremer, deputy secretary-general, European People’s Party Jan Wiersma, MEP and rapporteur on Slovakia, European Parliament Tomás Buril, second secretary, Czech Mission to the EU Robert Sermek, Slovak News Agency (TASR) Karel Barták, Czech Press Agency (CTK)

March 2001 Olga Keltoso ˇvá, MP of Movement for Democratic Slovakia and former Slovak Minister of Labour, Social Affairs and Family Allan Jones, Slovak Team, DG Enlargement European Commission

December 2002 Nigel Crook, Party of European Socialists Jonas Jonsson, Swedish Permanent Representation Christian Kremer, deputy secretary-general, European People’s Party David Ringrose, Communications Strategy, DG Enlargement, European Commission Helen Campbell, Bulgaria Team, European Commission Nancy Kontou, Commissioner Verheugen’s cabinet, DG Enlargement, European Commission Jan Wiersma, MEP and rapporteur on Slovakia, European Parliament Ludfk Stavinoha, acting head of Czech Mission to the EU Aris Vigants, second secretary, Latvian Mission to the EU Viorel Ardeleanu, deputy head of Romanian Mission to the EU Bernd Biervert, Slovakia Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Rune Glasberg, political officer, European Liberal, Democrat and Reform Party Martijn Quinn, Romania Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Rutger Wissels, Czech Republic Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Elena Prokhorova, BBC Russian Service Juraj Migas, head of Slovak Mission to the EU Geoff Harris, head of Secretariat, Joint Parliamentary Committees, European Parliament Dirk Meganck, Slovakia Team, DG Enlargement, European Commission Karel Barták, Czech Press Agency (CTK)

266 Sources and Selected Bibliography

Austria November 1995 Christian Passin, Democrat Youth Community of Europe (DEMYC) Friedhelm Frischenschlager, Liberal Forum MP and former minister Alexis Wintoniak, executive secretary, European Democratic Union Heinz Fischer, president of National Council (Parliament) and chairman, European Forum for Democracy and Solidarity George Posch, foreign policy adviser to Heinz Fischer, president of National Council Alois Mock, chairman of European Democratic Union and former Foreign Minister Rüdiger Stix, Freedom Party Susanne Gaugl, International Secretariat, Socialist Party of Austria

August 1996 Lisl Kauer, Renner Institute

Bulgaria September 1995 Dobrin Kanev, head of Parliamentary Research Department, National Assembly Ivan Krastev, programme director, Centre for Liberal Strategies Elena Poptodorova, MP of Bulgarian Socialist Party Alexander Tomov, chairman of Civic Alliance for Republic

September 2001 Assen Agov, MP of UDF, vice-president of National Assembly and former chairman of Foreign Policy Committee Tim Colley, deputy head of Mission, British Embassy Stanislav Daskalov, European Institute and former foreign minister Christian Stock, EU Delegation Josef Gruber, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Dobrin Kanev, New Bulgarian University and secretary for Research and Analysis to president of Bulgaria Elizaveta Konstantinova, Reuters Sergei Stanishev, international secretary, Bulgarian Socialist Party Nikolai Mladenov, UDF MP and vice-chairman of parliamentary Foreign Policy Committee Bisserka Benisheva, head of European Integration Directorate, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Vladimir Kissiov, European Institute and former chief negotiator with the EU Ivan Krastev, director, Centre for Liberal Strategies Kemal Ejup Adil, MP of Movement for Rights and Freedoms Margarita Petrova-Karidi, Piraeus Bank Jivka Staneva, European Integration Department, Council of Ministers Pentcho Houbtchev, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Georgi Karasimeonov, Institute for Political and Legal Studies Silvana Lyubenova, Ministry of the Economy Tchetin Kazak, MP of Movement for Rights and Freedoms Evgeni Ivanov, secretary-general, Employers’ Association of Bulgaria Irina Bokova, MP of Bulgarian Socialist Party, deputy chair of parliamentary Foreign Policy Committee, former deputy foreign minister

Sources and Selected Bibliography 267 Gergana Grancharova, MP of National Movement Simeon II Kina Andreeva, MP of UDF Ingrid Shikova, Information Centre of European Union Svetoslav Malinov, head of Analysis, UDF Slavitza Dobreva, Directorate of European Integration, Ministry of Environment

Czech Republic November 1995 Jirina Melenova, Free Democratic Party Miloslav Ransdorf, vice-chairman, Communist Party of Bohemia and Moravia Václav Zák, executive board member, Free Democrats Tomás Rubáeek, deputy chairman, Christian and Democratic Union/People’s Party Roman Joch, international secretary, Civic Democratic Alliance Jirí Holub, Left Block and former Czechoslovak ambassador to Italy Svftlana Navarová, international secretary, Czech Social Democratic Party Jan Zahradil, international secretary, Civic Democratic Party Jan Vik, Republican Party MP

March 2000 Arséne Verny, Consortium for Legal Advice on EC Law Vaćlav Smejkal, Czech Chamber of Commerce Frank Spengler, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Petr Zavadil, deputy editor in chief, Lidové Noviny Michal Lobkowicz, MP of Freedom Union Pavel Bratinka, EUR Office Jirí Vetrovsky, adviser, Ministry of Finance Jan Gregor, head of Horizontal Relations Unit, Ministry of Finance Lubomír Zaorálek, MP of Social Democratic Party Roman Joch, Civic Institute Ludfk Zahradníeek, Department for Coordination of Relations with EU, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Petr Greger, EU Delegation Vladimír Müller, international secretary, Social Democratic Party

February/March 2003 Jan Zahradil, vice-chairman, Civic Democratic Party Ludfk Zahradníeek, Communications Strategy Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Jirí Schneider, director, Analyses and Policy Planning Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Christian Bourgin, EU Delegation Petr Greger, Euro-Czech Forum Adam Cerny, Hospodarské Noviny Petr Zavadil, deputy editor in chief, Lidove Noviny Heidulf Schmidt, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Vladimír Müller, international secretary, Social Democratic Party Josef Morávek, Press Department, Communist Party of Bohemia and Moravia Jirí Pehe, director, New York University Prague Frank Spengler, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Vladimír Lastuvka, Social Democratic MP and chairman of Foreign Committee

268 Sources and Selected Bibliography Miloslav Ransdorf, MP and vice-chairman of Communist Party of Bohemia and Moravia Václav Zák, editor in chief, Listy: Journal for Politics and Culture Jaroslav Zvfrina, MP of Civic Democratic Party and vice-chairman of European Integration Committee Otto Pick, ambassador at large, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Petr Jezek, deputy state secretary for European Affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Germany November 1995 Christoph Liedtke, Department of International Relations, Free Democratic Party Franz-Josef Reuter, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Michael Däumer, deputy head of Foreign Relations Bureau, CDU/CSU Fraktion, Bundestag Gisela Nauk, Department for International Politics, Social Democratic Party Ernst Stetter, Friedrich Ebert Foundation

Hungary March 1993 Laszlo Rajk, Free Democrat MP Gabor Kerdy, chairman, Foreign Committee, Hungarian Democratic Forum Attila Ledenyi, International Secretary, Fidesz Peter Thelen, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Dick Pettinga, Alfred Mozer Foundation, Dutch Labour Party

November 1999 György Markus, Friedrich Ebert Foundation

April 2000 Vilmos Szabó, international secretary, Hungarian Socialist Party Peter Havas, international secretariat, Hungarian Socialist Party Miklós Csapody, MP of Hungarian Democratic Forum Zoltan Pezze, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Katalin Kiszely, MP of Smallholders’ Party and member of parliamentary European Integration Committee Peter Thelen, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Tamás Major, international secretary, Fidesz Gyula Molnár, MP of Hungarian Socialist Party and vice-chairman of parliamentary Foreign Affairs Committee Istvan Szent-Iványi, Free Democrat MP and chairman of parliamentary Foreign Affairs Committee Hans-Friedrich von Solemacher, Hanns Seidel Foundation Josef Duhae, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Judit Pálfalvi, Robert Schuman Institute

November 2000 Béla Béres, chef de cabinet to minister, Ministry of Agriculture Gyula Hegyi, MP of Hungarian Socialist Party György Földes, Institute for Political History Laszlo Prager, European Integration Affairs, Office of Prime Minister

Sources and Selected Bibliography 269

Latvia May 2003 Arturs Krisjanis Karin ¸ s, MP and chairman of Parliamentary Group of New Era and member of European Affairs Committee Jplija Zukovska, International Secretary, Latvia’s Way Andrew Rasbash, head of EU Delegation Janis Vaivads, adviser and former director, European Integration Bureau Ainars Dimants, president, European Movement Nils Muiznieks, Minister for Society Integration Affairs 2002–04 Dzintra Bungs, Latvian Institute of International Affairs Roberts K¸ilis, Stockholm School of Economics and member of Management Board for Referendum on EU Membership Ramona Umblija, former minister of Culture and head of Referendum Campaign for EU Membership Janis Kahanovies, deputy head, Naturalization Board

April 2004 Raimonds Olsevskis, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Daunis Auers, University of Latvia Ilmars Mezs, UN Office of Migration Elina Melngaile, European Affairs Bureau, Cabinet Office Aldis Kusk¸is, MP and deputy head of New Era parliamentary group, Saeima Andris Gorbin ¸ s, president, European Movement Aris Vigants, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Juris Bojars, director, Institute of International Affairs, University of Latvia and former chairman of Social Democratic Workers’ Party Aigars Freimanis, director, Latvijas Fakti Janis Streips, freelance journalist Guntis Vasil¸evsskis, director, Department of General Education, Ministry of Education Valdis Zagorskis, EU Delegation Guntars Krasts, Chairman of European Affairs Committee, Saeima, and former prime minister Ilze Ostrovska, SPK Europe Inese Voika, head of Transparency International – Latvia Georgs Lansmanis, secretary-general, Latvia’s Way Andris B[rzin¸s, former prime minister Andreas von Below, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Artis Pabriks, MP of People’s Party and chairman, Foreign Policy Committee, Saeima Vita T[rauda, director, Providus Centre for Public Policy Ainars Dimants, former president, European Movement Andris Piebalgs, under-secretary of state, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and former minister of Education and former minister of finance Janis Jurkans, MP and chairman of National Harmony Party Dainis Ivans, chairman of Social Democratic Workers’ Party

Lithuania July 2000 Rytis Martikonis, head of European Affairs Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Audronius Azubalis, chairman of Foreign Affairs Committee, Seimas Povilas Gylys, Democratic Labour MP and former foreign minister

270 Sources and Selected Bibliography Gintaras Steponavieius, Liberal Party Darius Zeruolis, deputy director, European Committee, Government Office

Poland September 1994 Bronislaw Geremek, chairman of Foreign Relations Committee, Sejm

Romania May 2001 Radu Dobre, European Integration Directorate, Ministry of the Interior Florin Lupescu, EU and NATO adviser to President Iliescu Nicola Bulte, EU Delegation Radu Campeanu, chairman of National Liberal Party-Campeanu Susan Laffey, British Embassy Virginia Draghici, parliamentary consultant, Senate Alexandru Lazescu, president, Monitorul Media Group Toni Niculescu, former secretary of state for European Integration Nicolae Idu, director, European Institute of Romania Constantin Ionescu, Euro-Atlantic Dialogue and former Minister of Defence Tudor Dunca, former Romanian ambassador to the German Federal Republic Simon Mordue, EU Delegation Zsuzsa Bereschi, international secretary, Democratic Alliance of Hungarians in Romania Ioana Av{dani, Centre for Independent Journalism Leonard Orban, deputy chief negotiator with the EU, Ministry of European Integration Vasile Pubcab, chief negotiator with the EU, Ministry of European Integration Gabriel Andreescu, director, Centre for International Studies Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU Delegation and former chief negotiator with the EU Eugen Dijmarescu, ambassador at large, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and former finance minister Ghiorghi Pris{caru, senator and former secretary of state for European Integration Elizabeth Galvez, counsellor, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Radu Podgoreanu, chairman of Foreign Policy Committee, Chamber of Deputies Damian Brudabcu, MP of Greater Romania Party, Chamber of Deputies Christian David, international secretary, National Liberal Party Byron Davies, twinning official seconded from the UK, Ministry of the Interior Vasile Galgau, director general for European Union, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

September 2001 Sergiu Celac, former foreign minister (interviewed in Greece)

October 2003 Florin Lupescu, EU and NATO adviser to President Iliescu Radu Podgoreanu, chairman of Foreign Policy Committee, Chamber of Deputies Gabriel Andreescu, director, Centre for International Studies Damian Brudabcu, MP of Greater Romania Party, Chamber of Deputies Radu Dobre, Department for EU Affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Marius Profiriou, secretary of state, Ministry of Public Administration

Sources and Selected Bibliography 271 Toni Niculescu, executive vice-president, Democratic Alliance of Hungarians in Romania Ghiorghi Pris{caru, senator and chairman of Foreign Policy Committee, Senate Zsuzsa Bereschi, international secretary, Democratic Alliance of Hungarians in Romania Simona Teodoriou, secretary of state for EU Affairs, Ministry of Justice Alexandru F{rcab, secretary of state for EU Affairs, Ministry of the Interior Maria Ligor, general director, EU Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Mike Reilly, British Embassy Aurel Ciobanu-Dordea, EU Delegation and former chief negotiator with the EU Nicolae Idu, director, European Institute of Romania Giovanni Ravasio, economic adviser, Office of Prime Minister Liviu Mureban, Eurisc Foundation Sorin Ionit¸{, director, Romanian Academic Society Mircea Kivu, Institute of Marketing and Polls Vladimir Pasti, National School for Politics and Administration Alin Teodorescu, director, Institute of Marketing and Polls and adviser to prime minister on administrative reform Leonard Orban, deputy chief negotiator with the EU, Ministry of European Integration Vasile Pubcab, chief negotiator with the EU, Ministry of European Integration Valentin Lazea, chief economist, National Bank of Romania and former deputy minister of Finance Christian Popa, deputy governor, National Bank of Romania Florin Pogonaru, executive president, Central European Financial Services Corina Coman, adviser to prime minister, Office of Prime Minister Richard Lucking, adviser, Ministry of Public Administration and former Aid Coordination adviser, Ministry of Finance, Latvia Christian David, international secretary, National Liberal Party Codru Vrabre, Transparency International-Romania Elke Sabiel, Friedrich Ebert Foundation

Slovakia November 1995 Eva Nocarová, Democratic Union Juraj Kohutiar, international secretary, Christian Democratic Movement Ildikó Haraszti, international secretary, Hungarian Christian Democratic Movement Istvan Batta and Laszlo Molnar, Co-existence Zora Bútorová, Focus – Centre for Social and Marketing Analysis Ján Sekaj, international secretary, Social Democratic Party Jutka Takatova, Party of the Democratic Left Grigorij Meseznikov, Institute for Public Affairs

September 1998 Robert Zanony, Party of the Democratic Left Miroslav Sipikal, Social Democratic Party Drahomír Mihálek, director, Central Electoral Staff, Slovak Democratic Coalition Ivan Puskáe, international secretary, Party of the Democratic Left Juraj Kohutiar, Centre of European Policy Ján Fígel, president, Centre of European Policy and Member of Council of Europe Parliamentary Assembly

272 Sources and Selected Bibliography Eduard Kukan, chairman of the Democratic Union and former foreign minister Dionyz Hochel, EU Delegation Andrea Kovaeiková, member of Board, Party of Civic Understanding Pál Csáky, vice-chairman, Party of Hungarian Coalition Jaroslav Riha, international secretary, Social Democratic Party

May 2000 Ján Kuderjavy, general director, Division of European Integration, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Urban Rusnák, director, Slovak Institute for International Studies Anton Serom, head of International Security Section, Ministry of Defence Eduard Kukan, foreign minister Ján Fígel, chief negotiator with the EU Madga Vasáryová, head of Slovak Foreign Policy Association and former Czechoslovak ambassador to Austria Michael Petrás, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Agáta Pesková, Konrad Adenauer Foundation Kamil Sládek, director, Centre for European Policy Lubomir Hanus, director, Department of Foreign Relations, Ministry of the Interior Augustín Marián Húska, MP of Movement for Democratic Slovakia Miroslav Wlachovsky, director, Policy Planning Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Juraj Alner, Centre for European Policy Igor Hajdusek, director general, Section for European Affairs, Government Office Iveta Radieová, director, SPACE Foundation Béla Bugár, chairman, Party of Hungarian Coalition Robert Fico, chairman, Smer Anna Malíková, chairperson, Slovak National Party Pavol Demes, director for Central and Eastern Europe, German Marshall Fund and former foreign policy adviser to President Kováe Tony Verheijen, UN Development Programme Peter Weiss, chairman of Foreign Relations Committee of National Council and former chairman of Party of Democratic Left Viktor Nizmansky, executive director, MESA 10 Hans de Facq, PHARE Programme, Government Office

October 2000 Peter Kerlik, British Embassy Jaroslav Riha, international secretary, Social Democratic Party Ivan Stefunko, international secretary, Party of Democratic Left Rudolf Bauer, MP of Christian Democratic Movement and member of Committee for European Integration of National Council Walter Rochel, head of EU Delegation Igor Hajdusek, director general, Section for European Affairs, Government Office Michal Zöldy, head of International Relations Department, Movement for Democratic Slovakia Viliam Oberhauser, deputy chairman, Slovak National Party Hans-Günter Löffler, deputy head of Mission, German Embassy Martin Simeeka, editor of Sme Michael Martin, political officer, U.S. Embassy Eva Slivková, deputy director, Office of State Secretary, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Lubomira Hromková, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Sources and Selected Bibliography 273 Jozef Skultéty, director, European Integration Cooperation, Ministry of Environment Tom Owen, twinning official, Ministry of Environment Olga Keltosová, MP of Movement for Democratic Slovakia and former minister of Labour, Social Affairs and Family

November 2000 Jessica Houghton, Foundation for Civil Society Frantisek Sebej, MP of SDK and chairman of parliamentary European Integration Committee Lindsay Lloyd, International Republican Institute Frantisek Koloeány, Ministry of the Environment Eduard Mikelka, Institute of Slovak and World Economics, Academy of Sciences Milan Zemko, Academy of Sciences and former domestic politics adviser to President Kováe Juraj Alner, Centre for European Studies Tomasz Anusiewicz, UN Development Programme Attila Agárdi, international secretary, Party of Hungarian Coalition Rudolf Ziak, Department of Foreign Affairs, Movement for Democratic Slovakia Karolina Miková, Partners for Democratic Change Ivan Puskáe, foreign policy adviser to Jozef Migas, president of National Council Pavol Hamzík, deputy prime minister for European Integration Affairs Nicolas Ruszkowski, National Democratic Institute Ludmila Novacká, Economics University

April 2002 Eric van den Linden, head of EU Delegation Veronica Lombardini, director, Department of Political Relations with EU, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Igor Hajdusek, director general, Section for European Affairs, Government Office Pavol Demes, director for Central and Eastern Europe, German Marshall Fund Attila Agárdi, international secretary, Party of Hungarian Coalition Pavol Hamzík, chairman of Party of Civic Understanding Michael Petrás, Friedrich Ebert Foundation Robert Fico, chairman of Smer Iveta Radieová, director, SPACE Foundation Frantisek Sebej, chairman of parliamentary European Integration Committee Rudolf Ziak, Department of Foreign Affairs, Movement for Democratic Slovakia Béla Bugár, chairman of Party of Hungarian Coalition Oskar Elschek, deputy head, Chief Negotiator’s Department, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Pavol Kossey, international secretary, Christian Democratic Movement Martin Fedor, international secretary, Slovak Democratic and Christian Union Juraj Alner, Pan-Europa Union Vladimír Palko, vice-chairman of Christian Democratic Movement and chairman of parliamentary Committee for Defence and Security Robert Vlasie, Pontis Foundation Balázs Jarábik, Centre for Legal Analyses

September 2002 Michal Zöldy, head of International Relations Department, Movement for Democratic Slovakia

274 Sources and Selected Bibliography Miroslav Wlachovsky, foreign policy adviser, Office of Prime Minister Pavol Kossey, international secretary, Christian Democratic Movement Tomás Kuchtík, international secretary, Party of Democratic Left Marek Kapusta, Pontis Foundation Andrej Salner, Slovak Governance Institute Eric van den Linden, head of EU Delegation Irena Belohorská, MP of Movement for Democratic Slovakia Pavol Demes, director for Central and Eastern Europe, German Marshall Fund Ronald St. John, International Republican Institute Balázs Jarábik, Freedom House Ján Kosta, Institute of Slovak and World Economy, Academy of Sciences Emília Sieáková, head of Transparency International-Slovakia Matt Baker, National Democratic Institute Attila Agárdi, international secretary, Party of Hungarian Coalition

March 2004 Juraj Alner, Pan-Europa Union Ján Psenica, director, Department of External Relations of EU, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Balázs Jarábik, Freedom House Zuzana Dzúriková, National Democratic Institute Andrej Salner, Slovak Governance Institute Lubomir Durzo, director, Department for Coordination of EU Sectoral Policies, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Pavol Demes, German Marshall Fund Beata Balogová, editor, Slovak Spectator Gabriel Klenovics, international secretary, Party of Hungarian Coalition Júlia Hurná, international secretary, Slovak Democratic and Christian Union Ján Fígel, Christian Democratic Movement MP and chairman of parliamentary Foreign Relations Committee Juraj Blanar, MP of Smer Pavol Kossey, international secretary, Christian Democratic Movement Peter Ueem, International Republican Institute Ladislav Setnicky, director general, Section for European Affairs, Government Office Ján Earnogursky, former prime minister Zuzana Wienck, Alliance Fair Play Peter Weiss, Economics University Giovanni Caprio, adviser, Ministry of Finance

United Kingdom November 1993 Nick Rodgers, International Office, British Labour Party

January 1996 Richard Normington, head of International Office, British Conservative Party

January 1997 Andrew Tyrie, European Bank for Reconstruction and Development

Sources and Selected Bibliography 275

May 1997 Pekka Hakala, Secretariat, European Parliament

February 2001 Andrew Lance, head of Central and Eastern Europe Research Group, Foreign and Commonwealth Office

February 2002 Libor Krkoska, European Bank for Reconstruction and Development Frantisek Dlhopoleek, Slovak ambassador

March 2002 Michael Lake, former EU ambassador to Hungary

October 2002 Diana Radu, deputy chief of Mission, Romanian Embassy

Selected Bibliography Alston, P. (ed.), The EU and Human Rights (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). Bulmer, S., ‘Domestic politics and European Community policy making’, in B. Nelsen and A. Stubb (eds), The European Union: Readings on the Theory and Practice of European Integration (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1994). Burnell, P. (ed.), Democracy Assistance: International Cooperation for Democratization (London: Frank Cass, 2000). Carothers, T., Aiding Democracy Abroad: the Learning Curve (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1999). Christiansen, T. and Piattoni, S. (eds), Informal Governance in the European Union (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2004). Cordell, K. (ed.), Poland and the European Union (London: Routledge, 2000). Cremona, M. (ed.), The Enlargement of the European Union (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Crespo MacLennan, J., Spain and the Process of European Integration, 1957–1985 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2000). Curzon Price, V., Landau, A. and Whitman, R. (eds), The Enlargement of the European Union (London: Routledge, 1999). Dimitrova, A., ‘Enlargement, institution-building and the EU’s administrative capacity requirement’, in West European Politics, vol. 25, no. 4, October 2002. Falkner, G., ‘How pervasive are Euro-politics?: effects of EU membership on a new member state’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 38, no. 2, June 2000. Goetz, K. and Hix, S. (eds), ‘Europeanised Politics?: European Integration and National Political Systems’, special issue of West European Politics, vol. 23, no. 4, October 2000 (London: Frank Cass). Gower, J. and Redmond, J. (eds), Enlarging the European Union: the Way Forward (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000). Grabbe, H. and Hughes, K., Enlarging the EU Eastwards (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1998).

276 Sources and Selected Bibliography Green Cowles, M., Caporaso, J. and Risse, T. (eds), Transforming Europe: Europeanisation and Domestic Change (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001). Grugel, J. (ed.), Democracy without Borders: Transnationalization and Conditionality in New Democracies (London: Routledge, 1999). Gunther, R., Diamandouros, N. and Puhle, H.-J. (eds), The Politics of Democratic Consolidation: Southern Europe in Comparative Perspective (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995). Handl, V., Hon, J. and Pick, O. (eds), Germany and the East-Central Europe since 1990 (Prague: Institute of International Relations, 1999). Henderson, K. (ed.), Back to Europe: Central and Eastern Europe and the European Union (London: UCL Press, 1999). Hix, S., The Political System of the European Union (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1999). Howard, M.M., The Weakness of Civil Society in Post-Communist Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Kaldor, M. and Vejvoda, I., ‘Democratisation in Eastern and Central European countries’, in International Affairs, vol. 73, no. 1, January 1997. Kohler-Koch, B. (ed.), Linking EU and National Governance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Kopecky, P. and Mudde, C., ‘The two sides of Euroscepticism: party positions on European integration’, in European Union Politics, vol. 3, no. 3, 2002. Kubicek, P. (ed.), The European Union and Democratization (London: Routledge, 2003). Kucia, M., ‘Public opinion in Central Europe on EU accession: the Czech Republic and Poland’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 37, no. 1, March 1999. Lewis, A. (ed.), The EU and Belarus: between Moscow and Brussels (London: The Federal Trust, 2002). Lewis, P., Political Parties in Post-Communist Eastern Europe (London: Routledge, 2000). Linz, J. and Stepan, A., Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996). Mannin, M. (ed.), Pushing Back the Boundaries: The European Union and Central and Eastern Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999). Marek, D. and Baun, M., ‘The EU as a regional actor: the case of the Czech Republic’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 40, no. 5, December 2002. Mayhew, A., Recreating Europe: the European Union’s Policy towards Central and Eastern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). Nugent, N. (ed.), European Union Enlargement (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004). Papadimitriou, D., ‘The EU’s strategy in the post-Communist Balkans’, in Journal of Southeast European and Black Sea Studies, vol. 1, no. 3, September 2001. Poole, P., Europe Unites: the EU’s Eastern Enlargement (Westport: Praeger, 2003). Pridham, G. (ed.), Encouraging Democracy: the International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1991). Pridham, G., The Dynamics of Democratization: a Comparative Approach (London: Continuum, 2000). Pridham, G., ‘Measuring international factors in democratisation’, in G. Mangott, H. Waldrauch and S. Day (eds), Democratic Consolidation – the International Dimension: Hungary, Poland and Spain (Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlag, 2000). Pridham, G., ‘Uneasy democratisations – pariah regimes, political conditionality and reborn transitions in Central and Eastern Europe’, in Democratization, vol. 8, no. 4, winter 2001.

Sources and Selected Bibliography 277 Pridham, G., ‘The European Union’s democratic conditionality and domestic politics in Slovakia: the Meeiar and Dzurinda governments compared’, in Europe–Asia Studies, vol. 54, no. 2, March 2002. Pridham, G., ‘EU enlargement and consolidating democracy in post-Communist states – formality and reality’, Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 40, no. 5, December 2002. Pridham, G. and Ágh, A. (eds), Prospects for Democratic Consolidation in East-Central Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001). Pridham, G. and Gallagher, T. (eds), Experimenting with Democracy: Regime Change in the Balkans (London: Routledge, 2000). Pridham, G., Herring, E. and Sanford, G. (eds), Building Democracy?: the International Dimension of Democratisation in Eastern Europe (London: Leicester University Press, 1997). Quigley, K., For Democracy’s Sake: Foundations and Democracy Assistance in Central Europe (Washington, DC.: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1997). Ross, C. (ed.), Perspectives on the Enlargement of the European Union (Leiden: Brill, 2002). Schimmelfennig, F., ‘The Community trap: liberal norms, rhetorical action and the Eastern enlargement of the European Union’, in International Organization, vol. 55, no. 1, winter 2001. Schmitter, P., ‘The international context of contemporary democratisation’, in G. Pridham (ed.), Transitions to Democracy: Comparative Perspectives from Southern Europe, Latin America and Eastern Europe (Aldershot: Dartmouth, 1995). Smith, A., The Return to Europe: the Reintegration of Eastern Europe into the European Economy (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2000). Szczerbiak, A., ‘Polish public opinion: explaining declining support for EU membership’, in Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 37, no. 1, March 2001. Tang, H. (ed.), Winners and Losers of EU Integration: Policy Issues for Central and Eastern Europe (Washington, DC: The World Bank, 2000). Tsoukalis, L., The European Community and its Mediterranean Enlargement (London: Allen & Unwin, 1981). Wedel, J., Collision and Collusion: the Strange Case of Western Aid to Eastern Europe, updated edition (New York: Palgrave, 2001). Whitehead, L. (ed.), The International Dimensions of Democratization: Europe and the Americas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996). Williams, M.B., ‘Exporting the democratic deficit: Hungary’s experience with EU integration’, in Problems of Post-Communism, vol. 48, no. 1, January–February 2001. Youngs, R., The European Union and the Promotion of Democracy: Europe’s Mediterranean and Asian Policies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). Zielonka, J. and Pravda, A. (eds), Democratic Consolidation in Eastern Europe, Volume 2: International and Transnational Factors (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).

Index Accession Partnerships 42 Acquis communautaire 3, 15, 20, 41, 52, 54, 95, 98, 108, 113, 117, 118, 119, 121–122, 123, 125, 128, 133, 140, 148, 191, 192, 226 Adenauer, Konrad 31, 69–70, 79, 239 Agriculture 200–201 Albania 48, 59, 137, 238 Alternation in power 110–111 Amsterdam Treaty 1997 5, 18, 36, 217 Anderson, C. 181 Austria 17, 37, 44, 52, 75, 76, 113, 160, 207 avis 1997 of European Commission 38, 44, 56, 86, 106, 243 Balkans 37, 49, 59, 85–86, 108, 124, 137, 238 Baltic states 87, 91, 92, 106, 112, 116, 123, 124, 150, 155, 180, 214 Barták, K. 177 Belarus 48, 49, 59–60, 101, 154, 206 Belgium 147, 199, 207 Benes Decrees 44, 113, 160, 162 Berisha, Sali 59, 238 Birkelbach, W. 30, 31 Birkelbach Report 30 Blair, Tony 108, 247 Brundtland, Gro Harlam 76 Bulgaria 38, 43, 55, 83, 86, 91, 92, 93, 94, 107, 120, 124, 139–140, 150, 155, 168, 173, 177, 180, 192, 195, 208, 212, 260 economic disaster 1997 101, 107 and dynamic of EU accession 105 speed up in accession effort 107–108 judicial power in 134 Movement for Rights and Freedoms 171 visa issue 181 economic interests 198 environmental groups 209

and Roma 215, 216 and European standards 244 young personnel in ministries 249 Bulmer, S. 18, 64 Bureaucratic incrementalism 38, 44, 222 Burnell, Peter 26 Ceaubescu, Nicolae 81, 101, 111, 124, 140 Celac, Sergiu 102 Centre Party (Estonia) 185 Christian Democratic parties 150, 159 Christian Democratic Union/People’s Party (Czech Republic) 150, 159 Ciorbea, Victor 107 Civic Democratic Party (Czech Republic) 110, 151, 156, 160, 163 Civil society 11, 41, 194, chapter 6.3, 224, 235 Cleavages, question of 157–158, 159 Cold War 3, 4, 5, 26, 36, 37, 39, 49, 69 Communist Party (Czech Republic) 158, 160, 185 Communist period inheritances 98, 101, 109, 123, 124, 126, 128, 134, 135, 168, 171, 183, 198, 204, 218 Constantinescu, Emil 81, 242 Convergence, concept of 8–9, 10, 19–20, 99 Copenhagen political conditions 1993 13, 14, 40, 41, 42, 45, 55, 68, 86, 95, 97, 103, 109, 121, 130ff., 141, 143, 180, 191, 221–222, 223, 233, 235 Corruption, issue of 44, 53, 123, 131, 132, 136–138, 176, 210, 261 Council of Europe 21, 32, 44, 48–49, 50, 73, 101, 102, 204, 213, 220, 221, 225 Croatia 37, 48, 49, 59, 153, 208 Czechoslovakia 85, 87, 88, 119 278

Index 279 Czech Republic 43, 54, 80, 91, 92, 110, 113, 118, 150, 154, 158, 159, 160, 163, 183, 202, 211–212, 215, 228, 245, 249 historical issues 44 and judicial reform 52–53, 57, 135 ‘Europeanisation’ and 87 European Integration Committee in parliament 119–120 corruption in 137 Euroscepticism in 156, 162, 182 media and EU accession 177, 178, 256 EU referendum 185 economic interests and EU accession 196, 197 De Gasperi, Alcide 70, 79 De Gaulle, Charles 74 Démarches 55, 56 Demes, Pavol 152, 208 Democracy promotion 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 42, 46, 59, 60, 61 Democratic conditionality, concept of 9–10, 39–40, 41–42, 58–59, 68 Democratic consolidation 2, 14, 99, 104, 105, 174, 186, 190, 194, 203, 204, 229 definition of 12–13, 228 relationship with EU accession 23 EU understanding of 39–40 Democratic imperative 65, 69, 71, 72, 73–74, 77, 88–90, 150 Democratic transition 12 Denmark 74, 113, 114 Dzurinda, Mikulas 56, 57, 79, 82, 83, 101, 114–115, 133, 139, 150, 156, 173, 185, 207, 242 Eanes, Ramalho 240 Economic elites 196–199 Economic transformation, postCommunist 39, 67, 89, 133, 151, 158, 182–183, 193, 194, chapter 6.2, 217, 225 Elite/mass relations 3, 17, 161–162, 227 Enlargement, previous cases of 15, chapter 2.2, 52, chapter 3.2

Environmental policy issue 93, 117, 209, 210, 211–213, 214 Erhard, Ludwig 70 Estonia 55, 92, 106, 113, 118, 125, 137, 229, 250 preparations for negotiations 82 concern about national sovereignty 86–87 media and EU accession 177–178 EU referendum 185, 187 and Scandinavian model 245 Ethnic parties 170–171 EU Constitution 5, 18, 36, 217 EU Constitutional Convention 36, 112, 129 EU Delegations in CEE 45, 151–152, 175, 184, 209 EU’s ‘democratic deficit’ 3, 10, 27, 51, 58, 77, 238 EU’s economic conditions 40, 44, 45, 94, 98, 158, 191–192 EU expertise 120, 125, 172, 188 Europe Agreements 13, 42, 45, 114, 184, 224 European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD) 21, 49–50, 136, 193 European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) 1, 29, 70 European Commission 18, 31, 32, 34, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 53, 56, 57, 122–123, 124, 126, 127, 128, 130, 131, 133, 135, 142, 143, 151, 152, 153, 176, 180, 206, 207, 217, 223, 251 European Community (EC) 1, 29, 32, 34, 35, 77, 222 European Convention of Human Rights 36, 48 European Council 36, 42, 57, 97, 105, 114, 178, 201 European Court of Justice 10 European Defence Community (EDC) 70 European Economic Community (EEC) 1, 29, 30, 31, 32, 77 European elections 2004 172 European Federation of Green Parties 165

280 Index European Free Trade Association (EFTA) 72 European interest groups 198–199 European Liberal, Democrat and Reform Party (ELDR) 165, 167, 168, 169, 170 European Movement 184, 186 European Parliament (EP) 10, 29–30, 31, 32, 34, 43, 44, 45–46, 55, 56, 139, 163, 165, 214, 236 European People’s Party (EPP) 165, 167, 168, 169, 170, 238 Europeanisation, notion of 15, 18–19, chapter 4.1, 116, 118 Eurosceptic parties 111, 112, 154, 157, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 172–173, 182, 185, 195 Fidesz (Hungary) 110, 155–156, 161 Finland 37, 52, 75, 76, 113 Foreign investment 40, 195, 202 Formal democracy 21, 25, 27, 42 France 34–35, 114, 251 Franco regime 30–31, 205 Geoana, Mircea 94 Geremek, Bronislaw 79, 88 Germany, Federal Republic of 1, 4, 29, 30, 32, 44, 69–70, 85, 87–88, 112, 113, 126, 158 Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry 34–35 Government/opposition relations 154–157 Greater Romania Party (Romania) 149, 150, 153, 158, 254 Greece 1, 4, 32, 33, 49, 72, 73, 74, 122, 126, 250 Greek Communist Party (KKE) 73 Hallstein, Walter 31 Havel, Václav 81, 89, 242 Heath, Edward 74, 75, 79 Helsinki group of accession states 83 Herlea, Alexander 83 Historical imperative 65, 74, 76, 77, 84–88, 150 Horn, Gyula 1, 89 Human rights 42, 44, 53, 131, 171, 213ff., 219

Hungarian Christian Democrats (Slovakia) 170–171 Hungary 1, 43, 49, 80, 85, 89, 92, 110, 118, 122, 126, 150, 152–153, 154, 158, 160, 163, 164, 181, 185, 187, 199, 202, 210, 228, 238, 250 media and EU accession 54–55 tight management of EU accession 102–103 defects from former regime 123 Fidesz opposition style 155–156, 161 Huntington, Samuel 116 ‘hybrid regimes’ 9 Iliescu, Ion 81, 82, 102, 242, 246 Informal integration 16, 64 Institutionalised children, issue of 55, 140–141 Integration theory 14–19, 22 Interest groups 17, 134, 196–199, 223 Inter-ministerial coordination 118 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 21, 30, 44, 49, 94, 136, 176, 193 Iraq War 2003 173, 183 Ireland 17, 74 ‘Islands of excellence’ in public administration 120–121, 123 Italian Communist Party (PCI) 70, 71 Italian Socialist Party (PSI) 71 Italy 29, 69, 70–71, 126, 147, 250 Jenkins, Roy 34 Joint Parliamentary Committees ( JPCs) 43, 45–46, 97, 114, 139, 148, 236 Juan Carlos, King 88, 241 Judicial reform, issue of 52–53, 57, 117, 132, 134–136, 252 Justice and Life Party (Hungary) 153, 158 Karamanlis, Constantine 1, 33, 74, 79, 88–89, 241 Kazakhstan 206 Keohane, R. 16 Klaus, Václav 79, 80, 110, 137, 151, 156, 160, 162, 163, 182, 185, 238, 241 Kogan, Norman 70 Kopecky, P. 159, 161 Kosiee 139

Index 281 Kosovo War 1999 38, 108, 114, 173, 183 Kostov, Ivan 108 Kováe, Michal 56, 185 Kukan, Eduard 79, 82, 83, 84–85, 119 Kwagniewski, Alexander 79, 81 Latin America 3–4, 6, 7, 37 Latvia 49, 55, 81, 92, 106, 124–125, 132, 135, 137, 176, 177, 180, 182, 184, 185, 194, 207, 210, 214–215, 229 response to Luxembourg decision 1997 106 European pressure for integrating Russian minority 112 Scandinavian links 114 European Integration Bureau 119 criticised for closed decision-making 122–124 mistrust towards political elites 128 EU referendum 186, 195 Human Rights Centre 209, 210, 214 media and EU accession 253 Lawson, Kay 146 League of Polish Families (Poland) 157–158 Lepper, Andrzej 161 Linguistic skills 81–82, 120, 242 Lithuania 55, 87, 92, 106, 113, 124–125, 177, 250 Lukashenka, Alexander 59–60, 101, 154 Luxembourg group of accession states 82, 83, 106 Maastricht Treaty 1992 18, 36 Macedonia 49, 137 Mair, Peter 147, 148 Malta 110 Meeiar, Vladimír 39, 43, 49, 52, 55, 56, 60, 67, 79–80, 82, 101, 103, 109, 111, 112–113, 115, 127, 149, 150, 152, 154, 156–157, 161–162, 170–171, 174, 185, 206, 207, 222, 228, 236, 238, 241, 254 Medgyessy, P. 250 Media, role of 43, 46, 54, 145, 146, 174, 175, 176–179, 223, 253, 256 Miller, Leszek 114, 155

Milosevic, Slobodan 37, 82, 108, 153, 154, 242 Minorities 53, 112, 214–216, 225 Mistrust towards political elites 128, 161, 175–176 Mitsotakis, C. 33, 240 Mock, Alois 76 Modernising imperative 65, 69, 74, 76–77, 92–95, 150–151 Movement for a Democratic Slovakia (Slovakia) 149, 154, 156–157, 160 Movement for Rights and Freedoms (Bulgaria) 171 Mudde, C. 159, 161 Nastase, Adrian 79, 111, 136, 248 Nationalism 67, 160–161 National sovereignty issue 104, 112 Negative effects of EU accession 2–3, 58, 59, 198, 225–227, 246 New Era party (Latvia) 137 ‘New institutionalism’ 116 New Neighbourhood Policy of EU 60 Nice Treaty 2000 36 Nicholson, Emma 140 Non-governmental organisations (NGOs) 14, 16, 25, 41, 45, 46, 47, 50, 51, 109, 120, 131, 132, 138, 142, 153, 176, 186, 194, 197, chapter 6.3 passim, 219, 220, 223, 229, 260 North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) 4, 21, 37, 38, 49, 50, 55, 56, 59, 60, 70–71, 73, 91, 92, 101, 107, 108, 115, 125, 173, 183, 202, 207, 208, 220, 241, 245, 247 Norway 76, 77, 233 Nuclear reactors, issue of 43–44, 113, 192, 213 Nye, J. 16 Open Society Institute (OSI) 41, 136, 205, 214, 215, 235 Opposition parties 154–157 Orbán, Victor 79, 80, 110, 154, 156, 160, 161, 238, 241 Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) 101, 202

282 Index Organisation for European Economic Cooperation (OEEC) 30 Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) 21, 49, 50, 51, 56, 60, 101, 112, 193, 204, 209, 213, 220, 225, 238 Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK) 72, 73, 74 Papandreou, Andreas 74, 240 Party of Democratic Left (Slovakia) 133 Party of European Socialists (PES) 165, 167, 168, 169, 170 Peasant Party (Poland) 114, 155, 161, 201 PHARE Democracy Programme 6, 21–22, 37, 38, 41, 43, 45, 46–47, 50, 51, 125–126, 199, 206–207, 212, 224, 249 Poland 81, 82, 91, 92, 113, 118, 125, 126, 149, 150, 154, 155, 157–158, 159, 161, 164, 177, 180, 183, 195, 202, 206, 208, 211, 212, 228, 244 relations with Germany 85, 87–88, 91–92 Polish European policy 87, 88, 89, 91–92 1997 Constitution and decrease in national sovereignty 112 government difficulties over EU accession 114 party-political positions on EU accession 155, 162–163, 195 agriculture and EU 200, 201 impact of EU negotiations 243 Political culture 14, 228 Political parties 41, 133, 145, 146, chapter 5.2, chapter 5.3, 174, 223 Portugal 4, 34, 49, 72, 73, 239, 240 Portuguese Communist Party (PCP) 73 Przeworski, A. 7–8 Public opinion and the EU 179–184, 195–196, 256 Push/pull dynamics of EU accession 24, 28, 42, 51–52, 58, 59, 99, 116–117, 143–144, 221–222 Putin, Vladimír 60, 242

Rasmussen, Anders Fogh 85 Referenda on EU membership 17–18, 113, 114, 128, 176, 184–187, 188 Regime change theory 6–10, 11–13, 22 Regionalisation, issue of 127 Regular Reports of European Commission 38, 39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 52–53, 54–55, 56–57, 108, 109–110, 132, 135, 139, 140, 223, 236 Repse, Einars 137 Risse, T. 148, 149 Robert Schuman Institute for Developing Democracy 47 Roma issue 43, 53, 54, 105, 132, 138–140, 207, 215–216 Romania 38, 43, 46, 55, 67, 83, 92, 93, 101, 108, 110, 111, 114, 118, 119, 121, 124, 140, 149, 150, 153, 160–161, 168, 175–176, 180, 192, 194, 195, 196, 198, 209, 210, 211, 215, 216, 223, 225, 242, 243, 249, 254, 257 shock over not receiving EU invitation 1997 86, 107 medium-term economic strategy 94, 246 European opinion and suppression of demonstration 1990 102 EU and prospects for Romanian democracy 107, 244 EU and elections 2000 111, 153 accession deadline of 2007 113, 248 corruption in 136, 137–138, 176, 210 issue of institutionalised children 140–141, 247 media and EU accession 177, 178–179 and NATO invitation 245 problem of public administration reform 250, 251 Rome Treaty 1957 29 Rule of law 40 Rupel, D. 86, 93 Russia 48, 60, 85, 101, 150, 173 Saxecoburggotski, Simeon Schimmelfennig, F. 15 Schmitter, Philippe 2

79, 241

Index 283 Schröder, Gerhard 85 Schuster, R. 185 Security concerns 4, 25–26, 36–37 Security imperative 65, 69, 70–71, 77, 91–92, 150 Self-Defence (Poland) 157–158, 161 Serbia 37, 153 Sforza, Carlo 70 Sidjanski, D. 17 Single European Act 18, 36 Single European Market 18, 35 Slovakia 39, 43, 46, 49, 55, 57, 60, 67, 79–80, 82, 83, 91, 92, 103, 112–113, 116, 118, 119, 123, 124, 127, 133, 149, 153, 154, 158, 160, 161–162, 170–171, 173–174, 176, 177, 180, 181, 182, 184, 185, 186–187, 196, 202, 206, 209, 222, 228, 238, 244, 254, 256, 260 effect of change of power 1998 52, 83, 101, 111, 156–157, 171 failure to receive EU invitation 1997 56, 103 EU as historic chance 84–85 violation of EU political conditions 56, 109 EU accession and government stability 114–115, 133, 253 Ministry of Foreign Affairs 119 problem of Roma 138–139, 215–216 EU and the democratic imperative 150 visit by van den Broek 1998 152 Consultative Committee 197, 209 NGO development in 207–208, 210, 211 attitude to human rights 213–214 Joint Parliamentary Committee 236 Slovak Christian Democrats 159 Slovak Democratic and Christian Union 150 Slovak Hungarian Coalition (SMK) 57, 115, 151, 170, 171, 253 Slovak National Party (SNS) 158, 162, 170–171 Slovenia 86, 92, 93, 94, 101–102, 118, 124, 137, 184, 186, 194, 199, 228, 250 Soares, Mario 34, 79, 88, 89

Social Democrats (Czech Republic) 163, 167, 168 Social Democrats (Poland) 114 Social Democrats (Romania) 111, 153, 168 Socialist International 167–168, 169, 171 Socialist Party (Bulgaria) 155, 168, 169, 173 Socialist Party of Serbia 154 Soros Foundation 51, 220 Southern Europe 1, 6, 7, 11, 17, 30–35, 42, 71–74, 83, 88–89, 90, 199, 220, 222, 234 Soviet Union (USSR) 36, 71, 86, 101, 112, 116, 137, 180, 231 Spain 30–31, 33–34, 71–72, 83, 205, 240 Spanish Communist Party (PCE) 73 State, role of 116, 122 Stoyanov, Petar 94 Substantive democracy 21, 25, 27, 42 Sweden 37, 52, 75, 76, 77, 114, 160 TACIS Programme 46, 47, 206 Telicka, Pavel 177, 197 Terrorism 37, 49 Third EU condition 39, 41, 117–118, 121ff., 129, 130 Third transformation 67, 193, 194 Togliatti, Palmiro 70 Trade unions 202, 207 Transnational elite socialisation 9–10, 16, 20, 121, 165–166, 171, 228 Transnational party cooperation (TPC) 50, 150, chapter 5.3, 189, 223 Transnational relations, theory on 16–17 Transparency International (TI) 44, 136, 137, 250 Tudjman, Franjo 37 Tudor, Corneliu Vadim 111, 149, 153, 160–161, 254 Turkey 32, 36, 38, 49 Twinning arrangements 122, 125–126, 137 Ukraine 48, 49, 60, 208 Union of Democratic Forces (Bulgaria) 150, 155

284 Index United Kingdom (UK) 17, 34, 74–75, 160 United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) 123, 128, 193 USA 3–4, 5, 49, 50, 71, 73, 101, 108, 150, 168, 173, 207, 220, 245

Westendorp, Carlos 240 Westminster Foundation (UK) 167 Whitehead, Laurence 1–2 ‘Winners’ and ‘losers’ 193, 200 World Bank 21, 30, 44, 49, 94, 136, 176, 193

Van den Broek, Hans 152 Verheugen, Günter 43, 44, 45, 105, 139, 152–153 Videnov, Zhan 101, 107 Vik¸e-Freiberga, Vaira 81, 135, 241 Visas, issue of 181

Younger personnel in ministries 121, 243, 249 Yugoslavia 86, 116, 228 Zahradil, Jan 163 Zeman, Milos 57, 135, 168

83,

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