NATO: The Power of Partnerships (New Security Challenges)

New Security Challenges Series General Editor: Stuart Croft, Professor of International Security in the Department of P...

Author: Hakan Edstrom | Janne Haaland Matlary | Magnus Petersson

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New Security Challenges Series General Editor: Stuart Croft, Professor of International Security in the Department of Politics and International Studies at the University of Warwick, UK, and Director of the ESRC’s New Security Challenges Programme. The last decade demonstrated that threats to security vary greatly in their causes and manifestations, and that they invite interest and demand responses from the social sciences, civil society and a very broad policy community. In the past, the avoidance of war was the primary objective, but with the end of the Cold War the retention of military defence as the centrepiece of international security agenda became untenable. There has been, therefore, a significant shift in emphasis away from traditional approaches to security to a new agenda that talks of the softer side of security, in terms of human security, economic security and environmental security. The topical New Security Challenges series reflects this pressing political and research agenda. Titles include: Jon Coaffee, David Murakami Wood and Peter Rogers THE EVERYDAY RESILIENCE OF THE CITY How Cities Respond to Terrorism and Disaster Tom Dyson NEOCLASSICAL REALISM AND DEFENCE REFORM IN POST-COLD WAR EUROPE Håkan Edström, Janne Haaland Matlary and Magnus Petersson (editors) NATO: THE POWER OF PARTNERSHIPS Christopher Farrington (editor) GLOBAL CHANGE, CIVIL SOCIETY AND THE NORTHERN IRELAND PEACE PROCESS Implementing the Political Settlement Kevin Gillan, Jenny Pickerill and Frank Webster ANTI-WAR ACTIVISM New Media and Protest in the Information Age Andrew Hill RE-IMAGINING THE WAR ON TERROR Seeing, Waiting, Travelling Andrew Hoskins and Ben O’Loughlin TELEVISION AND TERROR Conflicting Times and the Crisis of News Discourse Paul Jackson and Peter Albrecht RECONSTRUCTION SECURITY AFTER CONFLICT Security Sector Reform in Sierra Leone

Håkan Edström, Janne Haaland Matlary and Magnus Petersson

Bryan Mabee THE GLOBALIZATION OF SECURITY State Power, Security Provision and Legitimacy Janne Haaland Matlary EUROPEAN UNION SECURITY DYNAMICS In the New National Interest Michael Pugh, Neil Cooper and Mandy Turner (editors) CRITICAL PERSPECTIVES ON THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PEACEBUILDING Brian Rappert and Chandré Gould (editors) BIOSECURITY Origins, Transformations and Practices Brian Rappert BIOTECHNOLOGY, SECURITY AND THE SEARCH FOR LIMITS An Inquiry into Research and Methods Brian Rappert (editor) TECHNOLOGY AND SECURITY Governing Threats in the New Millenium Ali Tekin and Paul A. Williams GEO-POLITICS OF THE EURO-ASIA ENERGY NEXUS The European Union, Russia and Turkey Lisa Watanabe SECURING EUROPE

New Security Challenges Series Series Standing Order ISBN 978–0–230–00216–6 (hardback) and ISBN 978–0–230–00217–3 (paperback) (outside North America only) You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with your name and address, the title of the series and the ISBN quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England


NATO: The Power of Partnerships Edited by

Håkan Edström Lecturer and Researcher, Norwegian Defence University College, Norway

Janne Haaland Matlary Professor of International Politics, Department of Political Science, University of Oslo, Norway

and

Magnus Petersson Senior Research Fellow, The Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies, Norway


Selection and editorial matter © Håkan Edström, Janne Haaland Matlary and Magnus Petersson 2011 All remaining chapters © respective authors 2011 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion 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, Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2011 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN 978–0–230–27377–1 hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne


Contents List of Tables and Figures

vi

Acknowledgments

vii

About the Authors

viii

List of Abbreviations

x

1 Utility for NATO – Utility of NATO? Håkan Edström, Janne Haaland Matlary, and Magnus Petersson

1

2 Partnerships and Power in American Grand Strategy Sean Kay 3 The ‘Natural Ally’? The ‘Natural Partner’? – Australia and the Atlantic Alliance Stephan Frühling and Benjamin Schreer

18

40

4 Partnerships to the East and South: A ‘Win-Win’ Policy Janne Haaland Matlary

60

5 Political and Military Utility of NATO for Ukraine Tor Bukkvoll

83

6 NATO and the EU ‘Neutrals’ – Instrumental or Value-Oriented Utility? Magnus Petersson

112

7 Sweden and NATO – Partnership in the Shadow of Coalitions and Concepts Håkan Edström

131

8 Potential NATO Partners – Political and Military Utility for NATO Ryan C. Hendrickson

163

9 Political and Military Utility of NATO for Argentina Federico Merke

181

Index

209 v


List of Tables and Figures Tables 1.1 Research design on perspectives of alliance partnership 5.1 Summary of empirical findings

7 105

Figures 7.1 Views of the NATO partnership in the Swedish parliament: the four non-socialistic parties are enthusiastic, the Social Democrats’ pragmatic, and the two other red-green parties skeptical 7.2 Two possible extreme positions when it comes to NATO’s future direction

vi


135 153

Acknowledgments The editors would like to thank Alexandra Webster, Christina Brian, and Liz Blackmore at Palgrave Macmillan, for their excellent cooperation and support. Their professionalism has, with gentle hands, guided us throughout the publishing process. We also wish to thank the NATO in a Changing World Research Programme, funded by the Norwegian Ministry of Defence, for financial support. The environment provided by our employers – the Department of Political Science at the University of Oslo, the Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies and the Norwegian Defence Command & Staff College at the Norwegian Defence University College – has been a great source of inspiration. The academic discussions we have enjoyed with our colleagues have provided a strong foundation for this book. Finally, we would like to express our gratitude to the panel at ISA’s 51st annual convention, New Orleans, LA, USA, 17–20 February 2010. We truly appreciate the insights we gained there from discussion with international experts in the field.

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About the Authors

Dr Tor Bukkvoll Senior Research Fellow and head of the Russia program at the Norwegian Defence Research Establishment, former lecturer of International Relations at the Norwegian Military Academy, and former researcher at the Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO). Dr Bukkvoll is an expert on Russian and Ukrainian defense and security politics. Dr Håkan Edström Lecturer and researcher at the Norwegian Defence University College, and Lieutenant Colonel in the Swedish Army. Between 2003 and 2007, Edström served at the Department of Strategic Analysis in the Headquarters of the Swedish Armed Forces. Dr Stephan Frühling Lecturer in Graduate Studies in the Strategy and Defence Program, Strategic and Defence Studies Center (SDSC), Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies at the Australian National University in Canberra, and managing editor of the journal Security Challenges. Dr Ryan C. Hendrickson Professor of Political Science, Eastern Illinois University. Professor Hendrickson teaches courses in International Relations, American Foreign Policy and International Organization. His research focuses on American military action abroad, congressional–executive relations over the use of force, and various aspects of NATO, including NATO expansion and leadership in NATO. Dr Sean Kay Professor of Politics and Government, Chair of International Studies Ohio Wesleyan University, and Associate, Mershon Center for International Security Studies at the Ohio State University. Dr Kay specializes in international politics, international security, globalization, international organizations, and US foreign and defense policy. viii


About the Authors

ix

Dr Janne Haaland Matlary Professor of International Politics at the Department of Political Science, University of Oslo, and former State Secretary for Foreign Affairs of Norway (1997–2000). Her main fields are the European Union as a political system, its foreign and security policy, European security at large as well as the importance of human rights, ‘soft law,’ and public diplomacy. Dr Federico Merke Researcher at the National Council for Scientific and Technological Research (CONICET) and Lecturer of International Relations at the Universidad de San Andrés, Buenos Aires, Argentina. His research interests include IR-theory, International Politics and Security, Latin American international relations, and Argentine and Brazilian foreign policy. Dr Magnus Petersson Senior Research Fellow at the Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies, and former Research Fellow, Director of Studies, and Head of Research and Development at the Swedish National Defense College. His research interest is on NATO, military theory, and strategic theory. Dr Benjamin Schreer Senior Lecturer, Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, School of International, Political and Strategic Studies at the Australian National University in Canberra. His research interest is on NATO, Australian and Asia-Pacific strategic policy, and strategic theory.


List of Abbreviations

ABACC ABCA NATO ACAK ADF ANZUS ASCC ASEAN ASG AWACS B&H CC CCEB

CENTO CFE CoE COIN CSD DP EAPC EC ECLAC ENP EU

Argentine–Brazilian Agency for Accounting and Control members America, Britain, and Canada with Australia Argentine Joint Grouping Australian Defence Force Australia, New Zealand, and US Security Treaty Air Standardization Coordinating Committee Association of Southeast Asian Nations Abu Sayyaf Group Airborne Warning and Control System Bosnia–Herzegovina Contact Countries AUSCANNZUKUS Naval C4 Organization, Combined Communications Electronics Board Central Treaty Organization Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe Council of Europe Counterinsurgency Operations South American Defense Council Distinctive Partnership Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council European Communities Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean European Neighbourhood Policy European Union x


List of Abbreviations xi

FARC

FMF FPDA FTAA GCC

HAW ICI ID IFOR INTERFET IOs IPAP IPP IR ISAF JI KFOR MAP MD MERCOSUR MNNA MNTF-S NAC NACC NATO NDP NPA NPT OAS OSCE PARP PfP PRT

Spanish: Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia, English: The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia Foreign Military Financing Five Power Defence Arrangements Free Trade Area for the Americas Cooperation Council for the Arab States of the Gulf, often referred to as ‘Gulf Cooperation Council’ Heavy Airlift Wing Istanbul Cooperation Initiative Intensified Dialogue Implementation Force International Force for East Timor International Organizations Individual Partnership Action Plan Individual Partnership Program International Relations International Security Assistance Force Jemaah Islamiya Kosovo Force Membership Action Plan Mediterranean Dialogue Spanish: Mercado Común del Sur, English: Southern Common Market Major Non-NATO Allies Multinational Task Force South North Atlantic Council North Atlantic Cooperation Council North Atlantic Treaty Organization New Democratic Party New People’s Army Non-Proliferation Treaty Organization of American States Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe Planning and Review Process Partnership for Peace Provincial Reconstruction Team


xii List of Abbreviations

PSE QDR RSM SAC SACEUR SAF SCEPC SEATO SFOR SHAPE SOFA STANAGS START TTCP UAV UNASUR UNPROFOR UXO WMD WNP

Partnership Staff Elements Quadrennial Defense Review Rajah Solaiman Movement Strategic Airlift Capability Supreme Allied Commander Europe Swedish Armed Forces Senior Civil Emergency Planning Committee Southeast Asia Treaty Organization Stabilization Force in Bosnia–Herzegovina Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe Status of Forces Agreement Standardization Agreements Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty Technical Cooperation Program Unmanned Aerial Vehicle Union of South American Nations UN Protection Force Unexploded Ordnance Weapon of Mass Destruction Washington NATO Project


1 Utility for NATO – Utility of NATO? Håkan Edström, Janne Haaland Matlary, and Magnus Petersson

The problem and the purpose of the book In the aftermath of World War II, the Truman doctrine and a strategy of containment was adopted. A central element of this containment strategy was the US-centered alliance system; while the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) was the European part of the system. There were similar alliance formations in other parts of the world. What makes NATO unique, however, is the fact that it is the only treaty organization that survived into the new millennium. The Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) was dissolved in 1977 after the Vietnam War, the Central Treaty Organization (CENTO) was dissolved in 1979 after the revolution in Iran, and the Australia, New Zealand, and US Security Treaty (ANZUS) as such lost its relevance in 1986 when the US suspended its commitments towards New Zealand.1 It can be argued that the reason for NATO’s ‘survival’ is that the alliance, in addition to its standing organization, has managed to stay relevant as a tool for managing modern conflicts while being open and inclusive, not only for new members but also for different kinds of partnerships. When studying NATO, the focus is often on the member states, their policies, differences, and conflicts. In contrast to research on the European Union (EU), relatively little has been written on the institutions within NATO and the dynamics of its decision-making.2 This is also true for NATO’s partnership structure. Although large and complex, it has not received any significant scholarly attention. We 1


2

Utility for NATO – Utility of NATO

do not know whether NATO’s partnerships are the result of a political strategy and design or whether partnerships have evolved as a pragmatic and perhaps ad hoc response to problems that have presented themselves. Neither do we know whether NATO has an overall plan for all the different types of partnerships that have developed – from those with states that are potential members to those with states that are close to the US, but not necessarily to NATO. Today NATO has several partner countries that can be clustered into different kinds of categories. In addition there are states which recently have established a relationship with NATO, such as Pakistan and Argentina, that might develop into a full partnership. Do these states have anything at all in common in terms of their relationships with NATO? Does NATO make security policy through an extensive partnership strategy, or is there no such plan behind it? What is the utility for NATO of all these partnerships, and what do partner states seek to achieve? Framing the problem In the EU, there is a political plan behind membership policy as well as a ‘partnership policy,’ which entails several types of relationships, from the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) to global trade agreements. These ‘partnerships’ have also received scholarly attention. When it comes to NATO, this is not the case. In this study we propose to investigate NATO partnerships: Are they based on a policy, and if so, to what end? We will also present case studies from the perspective of the partner countries: What does partnership status bring? Hypotheses about both these questions evolve around the question of security: Is it true that a partner state derives security benefit from such a status? If so, such a state may achieve such benefits rather easily, without the politically cumbersome process of membership. Similarly, NATO can extend its security ‘sphere of influence’ easily, without political cost. It would seem that partnership can be a win-win option in general security policy terms. The political utility seems mutual: Few strings attached, yet a clear signal to the outside world that NATO’s influence extends to the partner state. But what about the military utility? Sometimes the partner state really contributes heavily on the military side, like Australia in Afghanistan. Why? Here the utility for NATO is obvious. But what



3

is the objective from the partner state’s perspective? Perhaps it lies in the closeness to the US that is achieved, and that the bilateral relationship is what is desirable. If so, is NATO used as a vehicle for alignment with US security policy? Another aspect is related to time. The concept of partnership was – more or less – introduced on an ad hoc basis to handle the chaotic situation in the aftermath of the Cold War. In NATO’s strategic concept from 1999 the rationality of partnerships was explicitly articulated. The strategic concept could not, however, foresee the new strategic setting caused by the events of 11 September 2001. How has the concept of partnership developed over time? What impact have changes in the global security situation had during the last 15 years? And what about the future? Will the trend toward global partnerships continue? Will the concept of partnership fade away if most of the current partners become members? Thus, there are important questions raised by NATO’s large partnership portfolio. In the following we will go into these questions in greater detail. In the Euro-Atlantic region, NATO has, step by step, created new mechanisms for cooperation. The North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) was created in 1991, and the Partnership for Peace (PfP) in 1994. The decision in 1997 to create the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC) can be seen as a sign of NATO’s desire to move even further in this type of partnership cooperation. In the Eastern European region, NATO has taken other steps in addition to EAPC. The Individual Partnership Action Plan (IPAP) is such a step and was launched at the Prague Summit in 2002. Furthermore, special relationships with the Ukraine have been developed since 1997. The signing of the NATO–Ukraine Charter on a Distinctive Partnership (DP) is the latest step in this bilateral cooperation. Another example from Eastern Europe is the special NATO–Georgia Commission set up after the Russian intervention in 2008. In addition, there is a NATO–Russia Council. The council, however, serves other purposes than all other partnerships. The NATO–Russia partnership can, as Martin A. Smith has argued, be described as mainly ‘pragmatic,’ in some ways as ‘strategic,’ but definitely not as ‘normative,’ that is, shaped by ‘agreement on a common set of behavioral norms, values and standards’. All other NATO partnerships contain such an element, in addition to the pragmatic and


4


strategic feature (Smith, 2006, p. 12). The NATO–Russia partnership will therefore not be elaborated on in this volume. In the region of the Greater Middle East, NATO’s Mediterranean Dialogue (MD) was initiated in 1994, and the Istanbul Cooperation Initiative (ICI) was launched at the Istanbul Summit in 2004. ICI aims to offer countries of the region security partnership with NATO. In the region of the Western Pacific, significant steps were taken at the Riga Summit in 2006. The steps intended to increase the relevance of NATO’s cooperation with other partners, not only in the Euro-Atlantic region, but across the globe. These steps were reinforced by decisions at the 2008 Bucharest Summit, which defined a set of objectives for these partnerships and created possibilities for enhanced political dialogue. Often referred to as ‘Contact Countries’ (CC), these partners and NATO share similar strategic concerns (most states would claim to share democratic norms and values). What political and military relevance do all these types of partnerships have for the alliance and for the partners? What is their goal – is it strategic, operational, or tactical?3 Are the partnerships a tool of burden-sharing or are they a manifestation of a new ‘global’ NATO? And what about the key members? What is it, for example, that the US wants from partnerships as opposed to the bilateral mechanisms it has established beyond NATO? And, finally, what about the partners? Is the utility of cooperation the same for partner countries as for the alliance? And if not, is that a problem? To sum up, this book uses an inductive approach to scrutinize and illuminate the function of different forms of partnership between NATO, on the one hand, and non-member countries that have some kind of formal connection with NATO on the other. Which political and military utility do the different forms of cooperation have for NATO? Which political and military utility do the different forms of cooperation have for the connected states? Answering these research questions will teach us more about how NATO functions, and, in addition, how alliances interact with the external environment in general. Research design An overarching problem, touched upon above, that has to be dealt with is how to explain the logic behind the actor’s preferences and behavior. Is it built on a ‘rational’ or ‘non-rational’ foundation?



5

Could it, for example, be explained from an idealistic/liberalistic or realistic – that is, ‘rational’ – perspective? Does it, hence, rest on an ambition to reach a ‘democratic peace’ and a safe world order built on international law (liberalism), an interest-based strategic and/or geopolitical calculation (realism)? In that case, is the process driven mainly by internal or external forces? Or is it rather an uncontrolled bottom-up bureaucratic process – that is, a lack of rational/strategic thinking – that best can explain the behavior of the actors? Maybe the ‘logic’ behind the partnership policy is best explained through a constructivist perspective? Another important question is who the key actors are: are they the same in different contexts? There are not many answers to these important questions in the existing scholarly literature.4 We will therefore return to them – and discuss them in greater detail – when we present the findings later in this chapter. As noted above, there are many types of partnership arrangements between NATO and non-member countries. We have chosen to divide them into three different categories: The first can be called ‘NATO as a complement to the US.’ In this category we find countries that are so called major non-NATO allies (MNNA) of the US and have some formal connections with NATO. This category includes CC-, MD-, and ICI-partners such as Australia, Bahrain, Egypt, Israel, Japan, Jordan, Kuwait, Morocco, New Zealand, and South Korea. The second category can be called ‘potential NATO members.’ We are aware of the fact that the may be potential NATO members in the other categories as well, but in this category we find countries that are neither MNNA nor EU members, but are partners to the alliance within the frame of IPAP or DP. Many, if not all, of the countries in this category might be hoping to become a full NATO member in the future.5 The category includes Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bosnia–Herzegovina, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Moldova, Montenegro, Serbia, and Ukraine. The third category can be called ‘NATO as a complement to the EU.’ In this category we find partners that are EU members and take part in the EAPC, but have no immediate plans of membership. The category includes Austria, Finland, Ireland, Malta, and Sweden.


6


The research design for the book is to present a country perspective and a NATO perspective from each category, focusing on the political and military utility of partnership, and further, to compare the results both with regard to a country and NATO perspective and between the different partnership categories. Regarding the first category, ‘NATO as a complement to the US,’ we have chosen an Australian perspective on the utility of partnership. Australia is, together with Japan, both NATO’s and the US’s most important partner in the ‘East’ (Jain and Bruni, 2004), and since Australia, but not Japan, is contributing with forces to NATO’s military operations, it is useful to pick Australia as a case study – the country contributes to combat operations, unlike many partner states. In this case, NATO seems to benefit, yet we do not know how Australia benefits politically, especially perhaps from the US. This will be further elaborated in the chapter on the NATO–Australian partnership. Regarding category two, ‘Potential NATO members,’ we have chosen to study the political and military utility of NATO from a Ukrainian perspective. Ukraine has participated in several NATO operations, but above all, it is a key country, along with Georgia, in the debates in NATO about potential members. The analysis of the NATO perspective on this category of states is general and not connected to the Ukraine case in particular. Regarding the next category, ‘NATO as a complement to the EU,’ we have picked Sweden as a case study. The motive is that Sweden, compared with the other partners in the category, seems to have made the largest efforts to transform its defense forces in a way that is relevant to the NATO expeditionary warfare. We will, however, also include an analysis of a fourth category of states interested in NATO, but without any formal affiliation to the organization, here labeled as ‘Potential NATO partners.’ In this category we find MNNA countries that might become partner countries. The category includes Argentina, Pakistan, the Philippines, and Thailand. Here we have chosen Argentina as a case study. The reason is that Argentina seems to have closest relations with NATO; the country has, inter alia, contributed with forces to NATO operations in the Balkans. Table 1.1 gives an overview of the various partnership categories:



Table 1.1

7

Research design on perspectives of alliance partnership

Categories of partnership arrangements

Internal (NATO) perspective

External (country) perspective

‘NATO as a complement to the US’ (Australia, Bahrain, Egypt, Israel, Japan, Jordan, Kuwait, Morocco, New Zealand, and South Korea)

Political and military utility for NATO of the category as such

Political and military utility of NATO for Australia

‘Potential NATO members’ (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bosnia–Herzegovina, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Moldova, Montenegro, Serbia, and Ukraine)


Political and military utility of NATO for Ukraine

‘NATO as a complement to the EU’ (Austria, Finland, Ireland, Malta, and Sweden)


Political and military utility of NATO for Sweden

‘Potential NATO partners’ (Argentina, Pakistan, the Philippines, and Thailand)


Political and military utility of NATO for Argentina

To be able to fully evaluate the external value of the different NATO partnerships, the utility of NATO, the context of each of the four categories will serve as a natural point of departure. The partnership is hereby approached with the non-NATO security arrangements in mind. The added value of the NATO partnership, compared to the co-existing arrangement, is hence a critical question. Also, when it comes to the evaluation of the internal value of the different NATO partnerships, the utility for NATO, existing security arrangements can serve as points of departure. One option might, for example, be to explore the utility for NATO in cooperating with individual states compared with the utility of regional organizations. In some cases NATO might even have established cooperation with other organizations, hereby indicating that a critical question is related to the value the specific country partnership might add.6 Our ambition is to shed as much light as possible on different aspects of the NATO partnership phenomenon. Therefore, we do


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not intend to provide a set list of research questions to be answered in each chapter. Instead, we leave chapter authors some leeway in defining how military and political utility can be understood. In that sense, the overarching research method is inductive. The individual chapters will bring valuable knowledge on specific aspects of partnership, and a comparative aggregated knowledge on general aspects of partnership. There is no rationale for generalization for each of the partnership categories, yet it may be possible to generalize about NATO partnership policy when we see the empirical findings as a whole. The study of both internal and external perspectives will, we hope, lead to a deeper understanding of how political and military utility is calculated and evaluated from country and NATO perspectives. In addition, it will shed light on the logic behind the policy and actions of the alliance on the one hand, and the policy and actions of the different countries on the other.

The findings What, then, is the function of NATO’s different forms of partnership? Which political and military utility do the different forms of cooperation have for NATO? Which political and military utility do the different forms of cooperation have for the partners? From a NATO perspective, the political and military utility seems to differ not only between the different kind of partnerships but also within each specific arrangement and over time. In Chapter 2, Sean Kay discusses partnerships as a key mechanism for American grand strategy. His findings indicate that NATO partnerships have been crucial for promoting American interests since the Cold War. The utility of the partnerships has, however, changed over time. During the 1990s, the principal utility was political; initially ‘signaling strategic restraint,’ evolving into ‘a mechanism for extending American primacy via alliance expansion.’ After 11 September 2001 the character of the partnerships has gradually transformed, serving both political and military needs. Hence, the principal utility has been more instrumental, ‘a tool of achieving responsibility sharing in security management’ worldwide. Kay’s findings indicate that this transformation will continue as the US global power declines.



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In Chapter 4, Janne Haaland Matlary, analyzes the utitility for NATO of having partners that is potential members (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bosnia–Herzegovina, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Moldova, Montenegro, Serbia, and Ukraine). She introduces two hypotheses about NATO’s policy regarding these states; ‘NATO seeks to extend it geo-political power through memberships and partnerships to the East’ (hypothesis 1) and ‘NATO’s membership and partnership strategy is based on the idea that democracies ensure peace, and is aimed at domestic socialization’ (hypothesis 2). She finds that NATO’s policy contains both elements, but that the ‘democratic peace’ hypothesis is prevalent. She also finds that these states contribute with troops and logistical help to NATO connected to ISAF operation, which generates military utility for NATO. Nevertheless, it ‘seems clear,’ she argues, ‘that there is no NATO strategy towards membership in these cases.’ Partnerships carry no risk for NATO, but do not bring much geopolitical influence. Yet NATO seems to be content with piecemeal influence through projects with partners, she argues. In Chapter 6, Magnus Petersson discusses the utility for NATO of the partnership with the EU ‘neutrals.’ His findings indicate that NATO’s relationship with this group of states is mainly ‘ad hoc driven’ and that it is focused on military rather than political utility. Petersson argues that since there is a ‘strategic commonality’ between NATO and these states the partnership is unproblematic from a political perspective. The consequence of this is that more focus can be put on developing practical military cooperation. Although the group is politically homogenous, the states differ when it comes to ‘the “hard” objectives of the PfP program’; Sweden and Finland seem to be more willing to contribute to NATO’s military efforts than the other countries in the group. According to Petersson, Sweden and Finland are ‘very eager to do “everything” as a loyal partner except security guarantees.’ In Chapter 8, Ryan C. Hendrickson’s findings correspond well with the findings of both Kay and Petersson. Hendrickson, who is analyzing four of America’s MNNAs (Argentina, Pakistan, the Philippines, and Thailand), that is potential NATO partners, strengthens Kay’s finding on an increased use of partnerships by the US, even beyond the NATO context. From a NATO perspective, however, the utility is not always very obvious. A closer relationship between NATO and each of the four countries might even raise ‘new diplomatic and


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human rights questions for the Alliance to consider,’ Hendrickson argues. The utility for NATO seems to be military and related to the global struggle against terrorism and instability. According to Hendrickson, the potential lies primarily in ‘each MNNAs’ military capabilities and proclivities toward international peacekeeping.’ The fact that these military capabilities differ corresponds well with the patterns in Petersson’s chapter. From a partner country perspective, the picture is also differentiated. In Chapter 3, Stephan Frühling and Benjamin Schreer demonstrate that the principal utility of the NATO partnership for Australia ‘lies in its function as a temporary complement to the US.’ They conclude, however, that partnership with NATO is only one strategic option in the US–Australia context. Other options include partnership with and/or membership in other organizations serving Australia’s national interests. In that sense, Australia’s partnership with NATO after 11 September 2001 ‘reflects more a continuation of a previous pattern of pragmatic and practical cooperation.’ According to Frühling and Schreer, the limit of the partnership from an Australian perspective is defined by the degree of ‘overlap of strategic interests.’ As long as NATO maintains its ‘customer approach,’ the political utility of the partnership for Australia is obvious. The military needs of Australia will most likely continue to be managed through Anglo-Saxon cooperation. In Chapter 5, Tor Bukkvoll analyzes the utility of the partnership with NATO for Ukraine from the perspective of three different domestic political forces; the politicians, the military and the defense industry. By using different analytical levels and different types of motivation, Bukkvoll concludes that the European identity-oriented motivation is most relevant when explaining the general Ukrainian approach to NATO. Without overlapping motives ‘it is questionable,’ according to Bukkvoll, ‘whether it would have been possible to muster the elite consensus necessary to engage in the presently very active partnership policy.’ A precondition for Ukraine’s relationship with NATO is, however, a preservation of functioning relationships between Ukraine and Russia. In addition, Bukkvoll points out that, even if Ukraine officially aims for NATO membership, ‘there is no elite majority willing to push for membership today.’ Bukkvoll’s findings indicate that the main utility of the partnership for Ukraine is neither political, nor military, but rather cultural.



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In Chapter 7, Håkan Edström follows Bukkvoll’s example by analyzing the utility of the NATO partnership for different domestic political forces. Edström, however, offers a more in-depth analysis of one of these forces – the political parties represented in the Swedish parliament. His findings indicate that parties to the left (including the Green Party) tend to be skeptical of the partnership and antiAmerican in their approach, while parties to the right tend to be enthusiastic about both NATO and the US. According to Edström, parties to the left tend to evaluate the utility of the partnership from an idealistic standpoint, while parties to the right tend to use a realistic point of departure. For leftist parties, Edström argues, the utility of the partnership is foremost political; it ‘provides a forum for dialogue and consultations, mainly between the West and Russia, and primarily related to disarmament, arms control and non-proliferation of WMD.’ Parties on the right, on the other hand, see the utility on both the political and the military level. As in the Australian case, these parties tend to relate the utility to Sweden’s national interests. In Chapter 9, Federico Merke discusses the utility of NATO for the potential NATO partner Argentina. Merke uses three levels of analysis: the global, the regional, and the domestic. At the global level, both political utility, ‘to participate in an active way in the reshaping of the international security agenda,’ and military utility, ‘the participation of Argentine troops in the NATO-led missions,’ are to be found, according to Merke. At the regional level the utility is mainly political and has ‘to do with prestige and balance of power patterns’ in Argentina’s relationships with Brazil and Chile. At the domestic level, Merke, like Bukkvoll, connects the utility of the relationships with NATO to the cultural dimension rather than to the political or military. Naturally, in the Argentine case, it is not to a European but to a Western identity Merke relates his findings. However, as in case of Australia, the most important relationship is not with NATO as such, but with the US. Merke’s results thus agree with the findings of Frühling and Schreer. Conclusions and suggestions for further research The picture of NATO’s political and military utility of NATO partnerships presented above is complicated, disparate, and not all exhaustive. Some answers to the general and particular research questions we have proposed can, however, be suggested. It can, for example, be


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argued that some (positive) utility can be found in all types of NATO partnerships investigated, both from a NATO perspective and from the partner or potential partner state’s perspective. This is, however, not a very important or unexpected finding. Although there does not seem to exist a NATO partnership strategy, as underscored in several chapters, the utility for NATO in having all these partnerships appears obvious. They ‘provide’ more security than they ‘consume.’ But, as mentioned above, the utility for NATO of partners seems to change over time; several of the chapters demonstrate that political utility was more prominent in the 1990s, while military utility seems to have been more important after 11 September 2001. This is not only connected to strategic or global terrorism, but also to the decline of the US as hegemonic power. The US cannot carry out several operations alone over a sustained period of time, as we see in the cases of Iraq and Afghanistan. There is a real need for military input from others across the spectrum of operations. The need for military burden-sharing is set to continue, and this makes the partnership concept increasingly important. From a partner or a potential partner state perspective, the chapter findings strongly support earlier research that partners have a quite strong position, and significant room for maneuver. In the ‘absence’ of a clear NATO partnership strategy or ‘demanding’ policy, the partnerships seem to be quite ‘partner driven’ or ‘consumer driven.’ That can also, at least partly, explain the differences between the partner’s and potential partner’s behavior and perceived utility of the partnership with NATO. The ‘partner-driven’ partnerships also seem to give the partners or potential partners great possibilities to shape the partnership according to their own national interests – to take and give ‘what they want’ from NATO and to prioritize other relationships when it is considered convenient. For Argentina and Australia, the US relationship is far more important than the NATO relationship; for Sweden, EU membership has priority over the NATO partnership; and for Ukraine, the relationship with Russia is, as Bukkvoll writes, ‘a precondition’ for the relationship with NATO. A more specific question proposed above is the role of NATO’s dominant actor, the US, in NATO’s different partnerships. The chapters in this book show, not surprisingly, that the role of the US is central – from both a NATO perspective and a partner country perspective.



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As Kay demonstrates in his chapter, the use of partnerships ‘as a tool for managing the international security environment’ has been central in US policy since the end of the Cold War, and that has, naturally, heavily influenced the development of NATO’s partnerships. The rational for partnership arrangements has moved from political inclusion and security-building in Europe in the 1990s to military burden sharing in global operations after 11 September 2001. It can be argued that this development has ‘served’ partners’ interests more than members’ interests, since it has blurred the distinction between member and partner as contribution to a NATO operation becomes more important than formal affiliation. A heavily contributing partner can be more valuable for the alliance than a reluctant member. As already mentioned, the role of the US is very important, but varying with partners. For Argentina the relationship to the US seems to be intertwined with the relationship to NATO. As Merke argues in his chapter; when the relationship to the US became closer in the 1990s, the relationship to NATO developed along the same pattern, and when the relationship to the US became more distant after 11 September, Argentina also retreated from NATO. In the case of Australia the relationship to the US seems to be essential; Australia ‘exchanges,’ as Frühling and Shreeer clearly demonstrate in their chapter, military contribution to the US/NATO operations for US political support. The role of the US in the Swedish and Ukrainian partnership seems important, but more vague and indirect. As indicated in Edström’s chapter, the ideological preferences of different political parties might impact on their views on the role of the US and hence also NATO. A second, more specific, question proposed above is the military relevance of the partnerships for the alliance and for the partners on the strategic, operational, and tactical levels. However, as the discussion above has already indicated, it is not always simple to distinguish between political and military utility. As Merke, and Frühling and Shreer show in their chapters, the Argentine troop contribution to NATO’s operations in the Balkans, and the Australian contribution to the operation in Afghanistan, is not primarily of military relevance for these countries. The answer to the question also depends on the perspective. From a NATO perspective, it can be argued that the military utility of the


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partnerships was more connected to the strategic level in the 1990s; it was seen as important to reform, and democratize the defense forces in the former Warsaw Pact countries that became partners, both per se as well as to prepare them for future membership. But when NATO started to conduct ‘sharp’ military operations, first in the Balkans and then in Afghanistan, the operational and tactical levels became increasingly important. Troop contribution to ongoing military operations are, as Kay, Matlary, and Hendrickson show in their chapters, essential to the US and NATO. This picture can, however, be nuanced. The military utility for NATO of the EU ‘neutrals’ was mainly their contribution on the operational and tactical level in the former Yugoslavia even in the 1990s. Also, when applying a partner perspective, it can be argued that the operational and tactical levels have been important over the whole period for the EU ‘neutrals.’ Since NATO standards have become close to universal in peace operations, these countries have been eager to adapt to these standards. As Petersson argues in his chapter, The ability to develop interoperability through the PfP program, aiming at being a better peace keeper can, in sum, be a distinct feature for the relation between NATO and the EU ‘neutral’ partner countries (plus Switzerland), compared to many of the Eastern European countries who sees the PfP program, first and foremost, as a way of becoming a NATO member. The military relevance from a partner perspective can also, as Edström shows in his chapter, be seen as strategic. For the Swedish government, the NATO partnership seems to be a strategic tool for modernization, reform, and transformation of the armed forces. The question of the military utility of the partnerships is therefore a case of sophisticated interplay between the military and political spheres, as well as within the military organization (that is strategic, operational, and tactical levels). A final, more specific question proposed above is how to explain NATO partnerships from a meta-theoretical perspective. Will the development of the partnerships be explained first and foremost from a realist, a liberal, or a constructivist perspective? Or do we need other tools for explanation? As already touched upon, it can be argued that all three perspectives have explanatory power in this case.



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NATO’s own partnership policy might best be described as mainly liberal in the 1990s and mainly realistic since 11 September 2001. As Hendrickson shows in his chapter, the establishment of global partners and potential partners for contribution in global military operations, and to handle the terrorist challenges after the turn of the millennium can be seen as typical realistic behavior. The multilateral security architecture that was built up by the US and NATO in the 1999s that included the PfP program, that Kay describes in his chapter, can be seen as typical liberal behavior. From a partner perspective, realist behavior seems to dominate more clearly. Argentina and Australia have already been mentioned, but also the previous Swedish center-right cabinet seems, as Edström shows in his chapter, to base its partnership with NATO mainly on quite clearly formulated national interests. There exists, however, also quite strong institutional arguments as well, not least the interest in contributing to UN-sanctioned peace operations that are shared by all the parties in the Swedish parliament. As Bukkvoll shows in his chapter, the Ukrainian partnership is clearly in line with constructivist theory on national as well as sectoral and individual level. There is some explanatory power from a rationalist/realist perspective, but the European identity, according to Bukkvoll, ‘has the strongest explanatory power.’ As shown in Merke’s chapter, one can also trace constructivist elements in the Argentine case, but – as mentioned above – stemming from a Western rather than a European identity. What are the main conclusions of this book? How are these relevant for our knowledge about alliances and partners to alliances in a wider sense? The concept of political and military utility has been central in this introduction, and the authors of the chapters below have discussed it in depth from eight different perspectives. A fundamental question is whether the utility of the partnerships is mutual, and if not, if that is a problem. The short answer is that the partners seem to gain more utility from NATO than NATO gain from its partners. But that is not necessarily a problem as long as the overall political and military utility for NATO in having partners provides security for, rather than consumes security from, the alliance. As Frühling and Schreer have recently suggested, NATO could benefit even more from its partnerships if the alliance establish ‘a clearer conception of what


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the policy instrument of NATO “partnerships” entails in functional terms’ (Frühling and Schreer, 2010, p. 54). This is most certainly true, but we also need more research – analytical, comparative, and empirical – on partnerships, and not least because it is quite reasonable to believe that we will have to live with partnerships for a long time, or as Kay puts it in his chapter: The chapter concludes by demonstrating that, due to a dramatic decline in American power and significant overseas military burdens, a new phase of partnership is emerging with serious implications for global and regional security in the twenty-first century. Kay argues that partnerships can be ‘the key transition point’ into a new multi-polar7 international system. If he is right, it will be of great importance to understand, in depth, the power of partnerships.

Notes 1. The US-Australia and the New Zealand-Australia legs are, however, still operative and have arguably become much closer. 2. There are some exceptions from this ‘rule,’ for example Hendrickson (2006) and Deni (2007). 3. For a thorough analytical discussion on that specific topic, see Betts (2000) and Luttwak (1987). 4. There are, however, a few very good exceptions, for example Moore (2010a, b) and Frühling and Schreer (2010). 5. Since this book focuses on different partnerships, we will not, though, pay any further attention to problems related to the applications and procedures for membership. 6. For example GCC in category 1, EU in category 3, and ASEAN and MERCOSUR in category 4. 7. For a further discussion on multi polarity, see for example Kissinger (1994), Craig and George (1995) and Deutsch and Singer (1999).

Bibliography Betts, R. K. (2000) ‘Is Strategy an Illusion?’, International Security, Fall, Vol. 25, No. 2, pp. 5–55. Craig, G. and George, A. (1995) Force and Statecraft (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Deni, J. R. (2007) Alliance Management and Maintenance: Restructuring NATO for the 21st Century (Aldershot: Ashgate).



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Deutsch, K. W. and Singer, J. D. (1999) ‘Multipolar Power Systems and International Stability’ in P. Williams, D. Goldstein and J. Shafritz (eds) Classic Readings of International Relations (Orlando: Harcourt Brace College Publishers). Frühling, S. and Schreer, B. (2010) ‘Creating the Next Generation of NATO Partnerships’, The RUSI Journal, Vol. 155, No. 1, pp. 52–7. Hendrickson, R. C. (2006) Diplomacy and War at NATO: The Secretary General and Military Action after the Cold War (Columbia: University of Missouri Press). Jain, P. and Bruni, J. (2004) ‘Japan, Australia and the United States: Little NATO or Shadow Alliance?’, International Relations of the Asia-Pacific, Vol. 4, pp. 265–85. Kissinger, H. (1994) Diplomacy (New York: Simon & Schuster). Luttwak, E., N. (1987) Strategy – The Logic of War and Peace (Cambridge: Belknap Press). Moore, R. R. (2010a) ‘Partnership Goes Global: The Role of Nonmember, Non-European Union States in the Evolution of NATO’ in G. Aybet and R. R. Moore (eds) NATO in Search for a Vision (Washington: Georgetown University Press). Moore, R. (2010b) ‘NATO’s Partners in Afghanistan: Impact and Purpose’, UNISCI Discussion Papers, No. 22, January, pp. 92–115. Smith, M. A. (2006) Russia and NATO since 1991: From Cold War Trough Cold Peace to Partnership? (London: Routledge).


2 Partnerships and Power in American Grand Strategy Sean Kay

Introduction and overview This chapter demonstrates the relationship between American national security objectives and the use of partnerships as a tool for managing the international security environment. Partnerships emerged in American grand strategy during the 1990s as a way to signal reassurance to new friends and old adversaries about American power. This policy of restraint shifted, however, into one of expansion in which partnerships played an important role in an offensive orientation of American grand strategy. Partnerships were also utilized to manage coalitions for military engagements led by the US. These trends are demonstrated in this chapter through the use of partnerships developed by the US via the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). The chapter concludes by demonstrating that, due to a dramatic decline in American power and significant overseas military burdens, a new phase of partnership is emerging, with serious implications for global and regional security in the twenty-first century.

Partnerships and American grand strategy The partnership framework originated in bilateral contacts between the US and the Soviet Union in 1990 during discussions over how to manage post-Cold War European security. The notion of a strategic partnership was advanced by the Soviets with the objective of maintaining influence for Moscow over European security architectures.1 18


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Following from this, the concept emerged in the language of American decision-makers as they sought to engage via former adversaries who were aligning with Western norms. Other similar phrases have included strategic dialogue, special relationships, enhanced relationship, constructive strategic partnership, comprehensive partnership, long-term comprehensive partnership, long-term stable constructive partnership, and good-neighborly mutual-trust partnership. Conceptually, there are three general applications of the partnership concept that the US and other states developed: consolidating post-Cold War stability, strategic reassurance and restraint, and balancing. Consolidating post-Cold War stability Partnership concepts are consistent with an effort by the US to use bilateral and multilateral relationships to consolidate American primacy in the international system. The concept fits with realist explanations of international security relationships, which assess both offensive and defensive theories of state behavior relative to their position of power in the international system. To offensive realists, partnerships are consistent with expanding American power and influence. By using partnerships to consolidate international cooperation according to the American traditions of political, trade, and security relations, the US position in the world would be enhanced (Brown et al., 1997; Glaser and Kaufmann, 1998; Van Evera, 1998). To defensive realists, the partnership mechanism was a way to extend the range of allies and potential allies in the event of future conflicts or the need to organize coalitions to manage threats. In a more benign assessment, partnership was a mechanism of building cooperative architectures for advancing state interests in peace and security, which was consistent with the new dominant liberal order after the Cold War (Ikenberry, 2001; Deudney and Ikenberry, 2009). In this sense, partnerships were important procedural mechanisms for using institutionalized security relationships to consolidate peace and promote liberal Western principles and norms after the Cold War. By 2010, NATO had moved beyond partnership and had instead incorporated new members (and made commitments to include more as allies such as Ukraine and Georgia). Washington was not eager in the early 1990s to expand the NATO alliance to former Warsaw Pact


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Partnerships and Power in American Grand Strategy

countries. It was willing, however, to extend a hand of partnership to them. This outreach laid a framework for the eventual enlargement of NATO while, at the same time, assuaging Russian opposition to the encroachment of American power. These outcomes were consistent with the argument that great powers seek, absent balancing, to acquire as much influence as they can and thus expand primacy (Mearsheimer, 2001). Meanwhile, those states that opted into the partnership model would make gains by adapting to criteria set forth by the US. Such activity reflects ‘bandwagoning,’ which is the tendency of states to gravitate toward the power that can best distribute political, economic, or military gains (Walt, 1985; Schweller, 1994). NATO’s approach did have significant strategic consequences, however, that were not always favorable. In particular, there emerged an embedded perspective in Russia that the US had broken its commitment to restraint that had helped ensure a peaceful end to the Cold War. As Deudney and Ikenberry write: [M]uch of this souring is the result of American policies [ . . . ] American foreign policy, so successful at the moment of settlement, has pursued goals contrary to the settlement’s principles. This occurred through the administrations of both Bill Clinton and George W. Bush as the United States pursued short-term and secondary aims at the expense of more fundamental interests. (Deudney and Ikenberry, 2009, p. 49) Partnerships can be a grand scheme for managing systemic change, but they may also simply be a rhetorical device used by diplomats to work grey areas of international relationships. American officials value the concept’s lack of clarity because partnerships can justify flexible bilateral and multilateral architectures. The partnership concept can help to facilitate bilateral relations with countries whose relative power forces a relationship out of ‘Realpolitik.’ For example, partnership has been used to describe the US–China relationship. This relationship reflects close economic interdependence. Yet, fundamental political differences and disputes over issues like human rights create difficulties for defining that relationship as too friendly. In November 1996, US Secretary of State Warren Christopher delivered a speech at Fudan University in Shanghai. The initial draft had the word ‘partnership’ in the text to define the US–China


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relationship. However, according to Winston Lord, Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs, the word was removed because it was ‘a little too positive, naïve sounding.’ According to Lord ‘partnership can suggest an alliance if you’re not careful [ . . . ] So you don’t want to overuse that term [ . . . ] You need to reserve it for good friends’(Quoted in Opall-Rome, 1997). Nonetheless, a year later, Lord’s successor, Stanley Roth, told reporters that regarding US–China relations: (W)hat we’d really like to do is to try to achieve a [ . . . ] strategic partnership [ . . . ] Meaning a relationship that – rather than just being based on a series of bilateral problems, whether it be trade, human rights, non-proliferation, market access – has a broader framework to it, one in which we identify areas where we can work and cooperate together. (Quoted in Opall-Rome, 1997) By late 1997, President Bill Clinton and Chinese President Jiang Zemin agreed to a joint statement stating that they were ‘determined to build toward a constructive strategic partnership between the US and China through increasing cooperation to meet international challenges and promote peace and development in the world’ (White House, 1997b). The ‘constructive strategic partnership’ was inherently vague. When asked what the term implied in a US–China context, a Pentagon official directly involved in crafting US–China policy said: ‘We don’t know what it means and we would never use it at the Department of Defense’ (Quoted in Opall-Rome, 1997). Unease over implications of the US–China ‘constructive strategic partnership’ intensified when President Clinton visited China in summer 1998. Japan had specific cause to wonder whether the US was now giving a higher priority to its partnership with China rather than its traditional alliance with Japan. While the ongoing presence of US forces in Japan (and South Korea) remained the key indicator of this traditional commitment, the emerging US–China partnership introduced uncertainty into the regional security architecture. Early in the administration of President George W. Bush, the idea of partnership with China was dropped in diplomatic language. A new tone emphasized that China was a ‘strategic competitor’ of


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the US. Even then, a sense of ‘Realpolitik’ would pervade the Bush administration as its China policy reflected one of stability and generally good relations.2 The ‘Realpolitik’ behind this relationship was underscored by US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, on her first official visit to China in early 2009. Secretary Clinton made it clear that the US would press China on issues involving human rights: ‘But our pressing on those issues can’t interfere on the global economic crisis, the global climate change crisis, and the security crisis’ (Agence France Press, 2009). The labeling of a relationship as a partnership also caused confusion as to the nature of the alliance between the US and Turkey. In the 1990s, in order to broaden the bilateral relationship and to compensate for Turkey’s lack of EU membership, the US and Turkey began talking in terms of partnership. In April 1998, Secretary of Defense William Cohen stated that the US and Turkey: (H)ave a strong strategic partnership with shared interests that include preventing Iraqi aggression, promoting stability in the Middle East, and working together for stability in the Balkans, where Turkish and American soldiers stand shoulder to shoulder. (Department of Defense, 1998) The nature of this relationship, however, was confused by the fact that the US and Turkey are also treaty-based allies in NATO. The US also would simultaneously develop a strategic partnership with Egypt. The US–Egypt partnership was even more institutionalized, with specific committees addressing comprehensive and just peace, regional stability, and economic development and progress as well as by a ‘strategic dialogue’ between the US Department of State and the Egyptian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.3 Meanwhile, the US developed a strategic partnership with Israel, which included architectures for substantial military ties between the two country’s armed forces, technology upgrades, and intelligence sharing. Turkey followed suit by building its own strategic partnership with Israel and another one with Ukraine to address concerns about security in the Black Sea (British Broadcasting Service, 1998). Thus, in the case of Turkey, the meaning of partnership had a range of applications, since the US first raised the concept in its bilateral relations with Ankara. Turkey has turned the partnership concept to


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its own advantage beyond its historical alliance role in NATO (Kay and Yaphe, 1997). Strategic reassurance and restraint Partnerships also emerged as a tool to spread reassurance in the international system to states seeking to align with American national security priorities, while also signaling restraint to Russia. The US used this partnership concept to link with states from Central and Eastern Europe, and, more broadly, into Eurasia. In addition to multilateral concepts like NATO’s Partnership for Peace, the US built bilateral partnership programs to reassure Romania (which eventually became a NATO member), Ukraine, and Georgia about their eventual path toward an alliance commitment. The US used such architectures to consolidate these relationships without extending security guarantees. Romania was the first to receive this architecture after it was rejected for NATO membership in 1997. President Bill Clinton travelled to Bucharest and declared that the US and Romania had ‘agreed to establish a strategic partnership between our nations, a partnership important to America, because Romania is important to America – important in your own right, important as a model in this difficult part of the world’ (White House, 1997a). While the US–Romanian partnership established a path toward NATO membership for Romania, the case for Ukraine and Georgia was less clear and more complicated. The US–Ukraine partnership began in September 1996 as an effort to bolster Ukrainian sovereignty. This was a similar purpose to that which was behind the US–Georgia Strategic Partnership Commission established in 2009. Both relationships evolved as bilateral processes and were seen as important in Washington, given the significant lack of consensus in NATO for these countries’ membership.4 NATO, meanwhile, had also developed special partnership commissions with both Ukraine and Georgia while signaling that eventually they will become members, even if the consensus on this outcome was elusive. The NATO– Ukraine relationship added a new phrase to the partnership lexicon, described officially as the ‘Charter on a Distinctive Partnership.’ The US also used the partnership framework to keep Russia engaged positively. Russia sought reassurance and guarantees that the West did not seek to take advantage of its weaknesses. Despite major disagreements on issues like Kosovo, human rights, and Russia’s


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behavior in its former Soviet space (especially the 2008 war with Georgia) partnership remains a vital ingredient the US–Russian relationship. Russia has generally failed to take advantage of various institutional opportunities to deepen the partnership principle, especially with NATO. Nonetheless, even when there have been difficulties involving relations, such as during the Kosovo conflict and the Russia–Georgia war, these differences were often quickly papered over in the name of a cooperative architecture. By 2009, the US was seeking mechanisms to ‘reboot’ its relationship with Russia. Balancing The partnership concept has become embedded as a tool in the international system as other states have adopted the approach, and to counterbalance American interests. The partnership model has been applied by potential adversaries of the US to signal diplomatic messages, constrain American influence, or even as nascent balancing coalitions against American power. For example, in July 1998 just weeks after the initial US–China partnership architecture was announced, the Russian and Chinese foreign ministers met and hailed their ‘cooperative strategic partnership at the helm of the United Nations’ (BBC, 1998). This partnership would become formalized in the creation of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, which further embedded Russian and Chinese cooperation in a range of issue areas including the pursuit of a more multipolar world order (Kay, 2003a). Further complicating the dynamic, China also established a ‘long-term comprehensive partnership’ with America’s NATO ally France, a ‘comprehensive partnership’ with Britain, a ‘long-term stable constructive partnership geared to the twenty-first century’ with the EU, and a ‘good neighborly mutual trust partnership’ with the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) (Kay, 2000).

NATO’s partnerships: Political and military utility to the US NATO has been central to the American approach to building regional and global partnerships. There are three distinct phases and outcomes associated with this effort. The first phase was consistent


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with the effort to expand the institutional architectures of the EuroAtlantic community while signaling restraint toward Russia. The second phase was the more operational mechanism of facilitating eventual membership in NATO for aspiring candidate countries. The third was to use partnerships to enhance coalition military operations led by NATO. All three of these approaches reflected shifting and evolving roles for partnerships in American grand strategy, and in terms of objectives were generally successful. NATO partnerships and strategic restraint Soon after the Cold War ended, NATO adjusted to a view that it would go ‘out-of-area or out-of-business’ (Asmus et al., 1993). Recognizing that new missions were necessary to sustain the institution and that an opportunity existed to consolidate stability in emerging democracies of Central and Eastern Europe, the NATO allies crafted partnerships. This approach was, however, initially developed as an alternative to the enlargement of NATO and was consistent with the post-Cold War settlement of restraint relative to Russia. In October 1993, the NATO allies agreed to defer decisions on enlargement and instead adopted the Partnership for Peace as a gradual, slow, and deliberative process of engaging all interested countries from Central and Eastern Europe, including Russia, in cooperative relationships. The idea was to ‘pick up NATO’s standard operating procedures, habits of cooperation, and routines of consultation’ (Aspin, 1993). This policy would eventually lead to new members joining the Alliance, while also signaling this would occur as part of an evolutionary process, taking into account political and security developments in the whole of Europe (NATO Office of Information and Press, 1994). Meanwhile, specialized relationships would open up between NATO and interested partners, who could demonstrate their ability to contribute to security (and perhaps eventually join NATO) via the Partnership for Peace. This program included engaging with NATO to develop [T]transparency in defense budgeting, promoting democratic control of defense ministries, joint planning, joint military exercises, and creating an ability to operate with NATO forces in such fields as peacekeeping, search and rescue and humanitarian operations. (NATO Office of Information and Press, 1994)


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The Partnership for Peace was consistent with an effort by NATO to use its institutional mechanisms to consolidate peace and stability in the new European security environment. The program was cooperative, inclusive, and reassuring in nature (Sens, 2001). For some states seeking NATO membership, the Partnership for Peace was, however, evidence of Western weakness in the face of Russia. Describing the program, a senior advisor to Polish President Lech Wał˛esa invoked memories of Britain’s appeasement of Hitler when he complained: ‘We’ve gone from Chamberlain’s umbrella to Clinton’s saxophone’ (Quoted in United Press International, 1994). Nonetheless, over two dozen countries quickly engaged in the program. It eventually involved hundreds of direct or ‘in the spirit of’ NATO or bilateral programs. The Partnership for Peace helped to prepare interested partners for NATO’s multilateral planning norms, thus easing the costs of military restructuring and possible NATO integration. As one senior US defense official asserted: ‘(S)hould the situation deteriorate in the East and Russia, and it became necessary at some step to draw the line between Eastern and Western [ . . . ] the Partnership for Peace would put us in a better position to do that’ (White House Information Service, 1994). This model of partnership through NATO would have an important impact on security provision in the Balkans. When NATO agreed in 1995 to engage in peace support operations in Bosnia–Herzegovina, the mission was enhanced by the Partnership for Peace initiative. Eager to contribute to a NATO operation and thus (for some) to enhance prospects for membership in NATO, 13 of 27 partners joined the mission. These countries were a force multiplier to the Americanled NATO operation, IFOR. Exercises that the partner countries had conducted with NATO paved the way for the integration of contingents from partner countries, which contributed nearly 10,000 of the total 60,000 IFOR forces organized by NATO. For example, in October 1995 (just prior to IFOR deployment) staff officers from nine Partnership for Peace countries participated in operation ‘Cooperative Light’ as a command post exercise simulating the establishment of a buffer zone between two warring parties. Meanwhile, via the Partnership process, these same countries took operational lessons learned from the multilateral integrated force environment and fed that back into their own national security architectures and planning. This period of partnership culminated in a strong signal of inclusiveness and restraint, with genuine efforts to include Russia in the


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development of European security architectures. Russia was pleased that the Partnership for Peace signaled a gradual and transparent process toward enlargement. Moscow also insisted that it should have a ‘special status’ in NATO’s cooperative mechanisms in addition to the actual Partnership for Peace program. In spring 1994, Russia signed the Partnership for Peace framework document and also a joint NATO/Russian declaration stressing Russia’s unique role in European security. Yet, by late 1994, the American rhetoric on NATO enlargement had shifted toward a more precise commitment so that the question of new members in NATO was not a question of ‘whether’ but rather ‘when.’ To this, Russia’s President Boris Yeltsin stated in December 1994: A system of blocs, that is to say something we have left behind, is now coming back – the NATO bloc on the one hand – and Russia on the other [ . . . ] Without compromise on the issue between NATO and Russia, there would be no point in continuing a partnership [ . . . ] Otherwise we will go our own ways, and why have a partnership at all? (Quoted in Reuters, 1994)

From NATO ‘partnership’ to ‘enlargement’ Post-Cold War NATO enlargement began with invitations to negotiate membership being sent to Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic in 1997. These three finalized membership accession in spring 1999. After this first round, the question of partnership became diluted as a race to join NATO began for Bulgaria, Romania, Slovenia, Slovakia, and the three Baltic countries (Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia) who received invitations in fall 2002, followed by Albania and Croatia in 2008. Once enlargement began, NATO shifted from partnership to an individualized Membership Action Plan (MAP) for remaining candidates. While the Partnership for Peace remained a mechanism for association with NATO (especially for European neutral states), the MAP became the key association for states awaiting membership invitations. The issue became contentious for Ukraine and Georgia, which each sought MAP arrangements unsuccessfully. NATO hedged around this issue by announcing that these countries would eventually join NATO, though did not identify any timeline. Russia responded in private


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statements questioning the legitimacy of Ukraine to even exist as a state.5 More overtly, Russia responded with a military invasion of Georgia. The Ukraine and Georgia issues exposed important questions which had emerged about the difference between membership and partnership in the NATO context. First, ironically, some NATO partners in the 1990s, like Albania and Macedonia, had American troops stationed on their territory while new NATO members did not, thus raising a question of which had a more credible security guarantee, partner or ally? As the Polish Prime Minister said in August 2008 ‘Poland and the Poles do not want to be in alliances in which assistance comes at some point later – it is no good when assistance comes to dead people’ (Quoted in Shanker and Kulish, 2008). Second, did ‘partnership’ status increase or decrease security vulnerability? This question became significant in summer 2008 during the shooting war between Russia and Georgia. The images of Russian troops operating within the sovereign territory of a Western-leaning country seeking NATO membership raised alarm among several NATO members about the credibility of security guarantees. In this view, the failure to extend NATO invitations to Georgia signaled weakness to Russia and thus invited the invasion. Alternatively, the fact that NATO was even considering Georgian membership might have provoked the war. NATO partnership and coalition military operations During the presidency of George W. Bush, the US placed value in NATO mainly to integrate coalitions-of-the-willing in support of American-led military operations outside Europe. This shift began after the terrorist attacks by al Qaeda against the US on 11 September 2001. On 12 September 2001, the North Atlantic Council declared the terrorist attacks to be attacks on all of its members. The Alliance’s military response, however, was limited to providing a few AWACS aircraft to monitor US airspace. NATO was left out of the subsequent Afghanistan invasion, even though the European allies wished to contribute. NATO assumed a lead role in Afghanistan peace operations in 2005, but only after the US-led coalition and the UN established initial operations. NATO was not engaged in the US-led invasion and occupation of Iraq because many member governments and most European publics did not support the war. Overall, NATO’s


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role in the international campaign against terrorism was limited to relatively small initiatives like naval patrols in the Mediterranean and helping with the Olympic security in Greece in 2004. In this context, the significance of ‘member’ versus ‘partner’ status was less important than the ability of states to contribute to US-led operations. NATO command structures and operational experiences were thus an important, but not necessarily essential, component of this new model of coalition warfare. The limits were clear in how NATO would contribute. For example, the US gathered political support from what Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld called ‘new Europe’ for the invasion of Iraq in 2003. ‘Old Europe’ reflected the traditional members of NATO like Germany and France, who were opposed to the Iraq war. Using NATO as an operational mechanism, or even new NATO allies, however, proved problematic as a means of achieving force projection. This was especially true as numerous small force contributions are much harder to integrate into a common military command structure than very large national armed forces. As an extreme example, Estonia was praised for providing political encouragement to the US invasion of Afghanistan and as being among those East European countries who endorsed the invasion of Iraq. However, when it came to sending troops to Afghanistan for peace support operations, Estonia’s initial total military commitment was limited to five men and three dogs (Kay, 2003b). When NATO agreed to send troops to Afghanistan in summer 2004, the initial total was 7000 forces. Also in 2004, NATO agreed to send 300 military instructors into Iraq. However, only 16 of 26 members agreed to actually participate in this training mission. The Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR), General James Jones, called this trend ‘disturbing.’ He said that once NATO decides on a mission it is ‘essential that all allies support it [ . . . ] when nine, 10, or 11 countries in the Alliance will not send forces the burden falls on the other 14’ (Quoted in Burgess, 2004). Despite these limitations, some influential advocates of an enlarged role for NATO saw the institution as a foundation of a new ‘global NATO’ (Daalder and Goldgeier, 2006). In this vision, NATO’s role since 2005 combined with a network of relations with like-minded non-members such as Australia and Japan to facilitate integration into command structures. Indeed, a broad range of partnerships have demonstrated unique value as a complement to NATO operational


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activities. The relationships developed between the US with Australia, Japan, New Zealand, and South Korea have had particular value for facilitating these countries into NATO operations in Afghanistan. Meanwhile, states like Bahrain, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, and Morocco have been essential to a broader outreach in integrating like-minded states into a broader architecture for security in the Middle East and North Africa, and for information sharing on counterterrorism and anti-piracy activity. In this more ‘global’ context, NATO retains its core mission of territorial defense, but at the same time serves as a mechanism for coordinating global security management. This approach had, by 2010, demonstrated limitations as European members of NATO were substantially undersupplying troops to Afghanistan and public opinion in both the US and Europe focused inward. Two additional problems within Europe also challenged this broadened partnership vision for the Alliance. First, newer NATO members preferred to see NATO refocus priorities on territorial collective defense, not on global operations. Second, most of all European countries, either for global projection or for collective defense commitments, were cutting military spending. Overall, the European NATO members spend about two-thirds of what the US does on defense, but only have about one-third of the capabilities. Furthermore, there is a disconnection between the types of military operations the European allies are prepared for. The US emphasizes power projection and, increasingly, counterinsurgency warfare. Yet Europe has little doctrine, training, or experience with either. The US might thus find it necessary to go beyond NATO to find new partners for extended military operations.

Strategy and partnership: The implications of American decline The initial concept of partnership was designed in the American perspective to expand its engagement in world affairs (Kay, 2006). This view pervaded the American national security apparatus during both the Clinton and Bush administrations. The primary difference was that the Clinton administration chose ‘enlargement and engagement’ via multilateral forums while the Bush administration tended toward unilateral actions such as the invasion of Iraq. By


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2010, however, global economic crisis and substantial military overreach pushed the US into a serious crisis requiring a major strategic reassessment. Partnership remained important, but as a tool of facilitating a handover of American power to share burdens or to reduce overseas commitments. America’s strategic disconnect As Robert Pape has shown, the US’s relative economic position has been in rapid decline in the early twenty-first century while the economic capacity of China has grown consistently (Pape, 2009). Pape uses comparative economic data to show that America’s share of gross world product is one of the largest declines in modern history. This decline is only surpassed by the collapse of the Soviet Union. The US might be forced to retrench and reorient its strategic objectives to better reflect the emerging distribution of power (Gilpin, 1981). New American vulnerabilities became clear even before the fall 2008 economic collapse. According to former US Treasury Secretary, Hank Paulson, when Russia invaded Georgia in 2008, he was informed that a high-level Russian overture was made to co-opt China in a plan to simultaneously sell holdings in Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (large US government holdings). This move would have forced the US to spend massive amounts of government treasuries to shore up these domestic holdings (Krishna Guha, 2010). China rejected this Russian overture. However, by 2010, a new attitude had taken hold in China. In response to an American announcement of $6.4 billion in arms sales to Taiwan, China said that it would cease military-to-military partnership cooperation with the US and that it would impose economic penalties on related American companies. China accused the US of ‘rude,’ ‘arrogant,’ and ‘Cold War thinking’ in selling these weapons to Taiwan. A leading daily newspaper with close ties to the governing Communist Party of China indicated that: It’s time the US was made to feel the heat for the continuing arms sales to Taiwan [ . . . ] It would be folly to underestimate the Chinese unity over the Taiwan question [ . . . ] Punishing companies that sell weapons to Taiwan is a move that would be supported by most Chinese. (BBC News, 2010)


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Meanwhile, the US had continued to increase defense spending, even when major global security challenges were not amenable to mainly military solutions. The 2010 US budget proposal included a 3.4 per cent increase in regular defense spending plus an increase in funding for Iraq and Afghanistan operations. The total US defense budget for 2010–2011 was $708 billion including an additional $159 billion for ‘overseas contingencies operations.’ President Obama would also ask Congress for a supplemental increase of $33 billion to pay for an increase of 30,000 troops he opted to send to Afghanistan in late 2009 (Whitlock, 2010). The regular defense budget and new allocations for Iraq and Afghanistan would come on top of the other costs already totaled in the Iraq war, including over 4000 American soldiers killed and over 30,000 wounded. The Iraq war alone had cost $700 billion by 2010 and one credible study shows that it will eventually cost the US economy $3 trillion as a ‘conservative’ estimate (Bilmes and Stiglitz, 2010). The most serious threat to American national security over the long-term are global economic trends and, in particular, its $12 trillion debt. Yet, Washington trended toward increased international commitments and more defense spending. As one estimate by Kori Schake suggests, the annual defense budget could be cut by $35.4 billion and still maintain global technological and conventional supremacy. Democrats, however, fearful of being labeled weak on security have seemingly been unwilling to cut defense budgets. Thus Schake (who was a principle foreign policy adviser to John McCain’s presidential campaign in 2008) argues that ‘[C]onservatives need to hearken back to our Eisenhower heritage, and develop a defense leadership that understands military power is fundamentally premised on the solvency of the American government and the vibrancy of the US economy’ (Schake, 2010). While American military commitments were growing exponentially, the American willingness to sustain them was in freefall. According to Pew Research public opinion polling released in December 2009, the US public had moved sharply isolationist (Pew Research Center, 2009). According to the survey, 41 per cent of Americans believe the US plays a less important role in world affairs than it did ten years previously. This was the highest number ever recorded in a Pew Research survey. Some 44 per cent of the American public viewed China as the world’s leading economic power and


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only 27 per cent identified the US as the world’s leading economy. A year previously, 41 per cent had identified the US and 30 per cent China as the leading economic power in the world. Most Americans, 57 per cent, believe that the US should sustain its position as the world’s sole military superpower. Yet the number of Americans who said that the US should ‘mind its own business internationally and let other countries get along the best they can on their own,’ a measure of isolationist sentiment, was an all-time high of 49 per cent. In December 2002, only 30 per cent of Americans agreed with this perspective. There has been a significant disconnect between elite views and the American public over time as a huge majority of members of the Council on Foreign Relations strongly support the US playing an assertive role in global affairs. Partnerships and American defense planning In February 2010, the Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR) was released by the US Department of Defense. This review emphasized partnerships in overseas military operations. It was, however, unclear if these were to support a continuation of expansive American primacy, develop burden-sharing responsibility, or create a means of transitioning security management to allies and partners. Partnerships are now seen as a key transition point whatever direction might be needed as the international system evolves. For example, in the QDR draft of December 2009 it is stated that: The rise of China, the world’s most populous country, and India, the world’s largest democracy, will continue to shape an international system that is no longer easily defined, one in which the US will remain the most powerful actor but must increasingly rely on key allies and partners if it is to sustain stability and peace. (Department of Defense, 2009 – Emphasis added)6 Partnership has continued value in that it can enhance burdensharing and make military-to-military relations more efficient as the global security environment shifts. Meanwhile, partnership allows for continued ‘Realpolitik’ with transitioning countries, such as China and Pakistan. Significantly, partnership would also be important in places like Pakistan and Yemen where the US had national security interests in combating terrorism but which are places where


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visible American presence fuels local resentments. In the QDR it is also indicated that: The ability of the United States to build the security and governance capacity of key partners and allies will be central to meeting 21st century challenges [ . . . ] Building the capacity of allies and partners, together with efforts to prevent and deter conflict from beginning or escalating, can help reduce the need for large and enduring deployments of U.S. forces in conflict zones. (Department of Defense, 2009) In this sense the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and the heavy force presence that each continued to require by 2010 was an indicator that capacity building among partners could also be a very expensive and long-lasting engagement with a heavy overseas military footprint. The QDR appeared drafted, however, in a vacuum that took little account for America’s relative decline in the global economy. For example, in its core mission, the Defense Department is: ‘Extending a global defense posture comprised of forward-stationed and rotationally deployed U.S. forces, prepositioned equipment and overseas facilities, and international agreements.’ This activity is generally achieved via foreign military sales and financing, officer exchange programs, and educational opportunities at the lower end. Security force assistance missions provide ‘hands on’ efforts ‘conducted primarily in host countries to train, equip, advise, and assist those counties’ forces in becoming more proficient at providing security to their populations. Models of this kind of partnership outreach include US forces working in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Philippines, Africa, Columbia, and Pakistan, under the rubric of counterinsurgency (COIN) operations. Traditionally, as noted in the QDR, such missions have involved special operations forces. However, this goal is largely mission dependent, as the decision to increase the US force commitment in Afghanistan in fall 2009 demonstrates. COIN lies at the heart of an expanded American global military engagement in the QDR. Major mission initiatives to support building partner capacity for COIN includes: 1. institutionalizing general purpose force capabilities for security force assistance, 2. enhancing language, regional,


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and cultural ability, 3. strengthen and expand capabilities for training partner aviation forces, 4. strengthen capacities for ministerial-level training, and 5. creating mechanisms to facilitate more rapid transfer of crucial material. Missing from this assessment is the common refrain about wars like Afghanistan: they are not conflicts that will be resolved militarily, but rather through diplomacy, economic progress, and especially civilian capacity. Beyond operations in Afghanistan and Iraq, the US peacetime forces include approximately 400,000 military personnel either forward-stationed or rotationally deployed to ‘help sustain U.S. capacity for global reach and power projection.’ At the same time, it is indicated in the QDR that the US must be prepared to respond to changes in the international security environment. In addition, it is indicated that the US cannot accomplish its goals alone given the diffusion of power in the world. Thus, the Department of Defense would ‘seek a new architecture of cooperation, one that generates opportunities for the US to work together with allies and partners on shared regional and global security opportunities and challenges.’ In particular, the US will ‘continue to develop its defense posture to enhance other states’ abilities to solve global security problems.’ The assumption is that the US force presence overseas provides a ‘powerful catalytic effect in promoting multilateral security cooperation and regional security architectures that serve both the U.S. and partner states’ interests.’ This assumption does not test the proposition that this presence simultaneously promotes security dependence and substantial costs for the US, depletes its resources in strategic reserve, and does long-term damage to its economic security. As US Ambassador to Afghanistan (and retired Army General and NATO Commander) Karl Eikenberry argued in the fall 2009, US troop increases would bring ‘vastly increased costs and an indefinite, largescale, US military role in Afghanistan.’ Eikenberry concluded that the expanded US role will ‘increase Afghan dependency, at least in the near term, and it will deepen the military involvement in a mission that most agree cannot be won solely by military means’ (Quoted in The New York Times, 2010). Most disconcerting was that a core requisite for COIN operations in Afghanistan was that there should be a reliable partner in the Afghan government, which by fall 2009 did not exist.


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Conclusion Partnerships have served as a key mechanism for American grand strategy since the end of the Cold War, and NATO has been at the core of a growing and complex partnership dynamic. Initially, partnership facilitated post-Cold War outreach to former adversaries while signaling strategic restraint. Partnerships evolved into a mechanism for extending American primacy via alliance expansion. Subsequently, partnership became a tool of achieving responsibility sharing in security management. By 2010, partnership reflected strategic confusion as the US faced growing pressures to reduce its global commitments. The central conceptual question is whether the next phase of partnership is one that focuses on a major handoff of international security responsibility so that partners become the ‘lead party.’ In the European context this means that capacity building might focus more on building conditions for the EU to take a lead role in regional security management. The central challenge will be how the US will use partnerships to manage the pressures for American disengagement and global trends toward multilateralism. If handled well, partnerships could become the key transition point of stability in a multipolar world. The challenge will lie in whether Washington is capable of making substantive changes in its national security priorities to better reflect the realities of the evolving international security environment.

Notes 1. This statement is based on an off-the-record interview with a high-level American defense department official involved in this process. 2. The author is grateful to Thomas Christensen, former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Asia in the second Bush Administration, for a detailed elaboration of this point in a public talk moderated by the author at Ohio Wesleyan University, January 2009. 3. Press statement by James P. Rubin, spokesman, US Department of State, 15 July 1998. The US–Egypt Strategic Dialogue was initiated on 10 July 1998 at a meeting between Secretary of State Madeleine Albright and Foreign Minister Mahmoud Moussa. The initial agenda focused on the status of the peace process in the Middle East, counterterrorism, developments related to Iraq and Iran, and African regional issues. 4. The US–Ukraine relationship evolved substantial bilateral commissions and committees meeting on a regular basis to discuss issues that included


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promoting Ukraine’s external security by strengthening its military, Ukraine’s integration into European and transatlantic security structures, and US–Ukrainian military-technical cooperation and defense-industry conversion, and compliance with international arms agreements and nonproliferation norms. See US Department of Defense ‘U.S.–Ukraine Security Committee Report,’ 15 November 1996 and Department of Defense (1997b) ‘Remarks Prepared for Delivery by U.S. Secretary of Defense William S. Cohen,’ Academy of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, 12 July 1997. The US–Georgia relationship included a $1 billion package of bilateral US assistance to Georgia with the stated goal of reducing vulnerabilities to internal security and external economic and political pressure by assisting in the resettlement of displaced persons; supporting core infrastructure, including energy and transportation; investments; restoring border security and law enforcement capabilities; and strengthening democratic institutions and processes, and the rule of law. See Voice of America ‘U.S.–Georgia Partnership,’ 29 June 2009. 5. Off-the-record conversation with senior US official from the Department of State, Council on Foreign Relations, April 2008, Washington, D.C. 6. In the final published version, the word ‘rely’ was dropped and replaced with ‘cooperate.’ The official version is published at http://www.defense. gov/QDR/.

Bibliography Agence France Press (2009) ‘Activists Shocked on Clinton Stance on China Rights’, 20 February 2009. Asmus, R. D., Kugler, R. L. and Larrabee, F. S. (1993) ‘Building a New NATO’, Foreign Affairs, 4, pp. 28–40. Aspin, L. (1993) ‘Partnership for Peace: Remarks as Prepared for Delivery by Secretary of Defense Les Aspin to the Atlantic Council of the United States’, Marriott Hotel, Washington, D.C., 3 December 1993. BBC News (2010) ‘China Accusses US of Arrogance over Taiwan Deal’, 1 February 2010. BBC World Service (1998) ‘Russian Foreign Minister Begins Asian Tour’, 23 July 1998. Bilmes, L. J. and Stiglitz, J. (2010) ‘The Iraq War Will Cost Us $3 trillion and Much More’, Washington Post, 9 March 2008. British Broadcasting Service (1998) ‘Ukraine and Turkey Move Closer’, 13 February 1998. Brown, M. E., Cote, Jr. O. C., Lynn-Jones, S. M. and Miller, S. E. (eds) (1997) America’s Strategic Choices (Cambridge: MIT Press). Burgess, L. (2004) ‘Jones Failure of Some NATO Nations to Join Iraq Training Effort is “Disturbing” ’, Stars and Stripes, 24 November 2004. Daalder, I. and Goldgeier, J. M. (2006) ‘Global NATO’, Foreign Affairs, 85: 5, pp. 105–13.


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Department of Defense (1996) ‘U.S.–Ukraine Security Committee Report’, 15 November 1996. Department of Defense (1997a) ‘News Briefing’, 17 April 1998. Department of Defense (1997b) ‘Remarks Prepared for Delivery by U.S. Secretary of Defense William S. Cohen, Academy of the Armed Forces of Ukraine’, 12 July 1997. http://www.defense.gov/releases/release.aspx?releaseid=1347, date accessed 26 April 2010. Department of Defense (2009) ‘QDR Report: Draft as of December 3, 2009’ http://www.politico.com/blogs/laurarozen/0110/QDR_draft_leaks.html, date accessed 27 January 2010. Deudney, D. and Ikenberry, G. J. (2009) ‘The Unraveling of the Cold War Settlement’, Survival, 51: 6, pp. 39–62. Gilpin, R. (1981) War and Change in World Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Glaser, C. L. and Kaufmann, C. (1998) ‘What Is the Offensive-Defense Balance and How Can We Measure It?’, International Security, 22: 4, pp. 44–82. Ikenberry, G. J. (2001) After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press). Kay, S. and Yaphe, J. (1997) ‘Turkey’s International Affairs: Shaping the US– Turkey Strategic Partnership’, INSS Strategic Forum, no. 122, pp. 1–4. Kay, S. (2000) ‘What is a Strategic Partnership’, Problems of Post-Communism, 47: 3, pp. 22–3. Kay, S. (2003a) ‘Security in Eurasia: Geopolitical Constraints and the Dynamics of Multilateralism’ in J. Sperling, S. Kay and S. V. Papacosma (eds) Limiting Institutions?: The Challenge of Eurasian Security Governance (Manchester: Manchester University Press). Kay, S. (2003b) ‘Putting NATO Back Together Again’, Current History, 102: 662, pp. 106–12. Kay, S. (2006) Global Security in the Twenty-first Century: The Quest for Power and the Search for Peace (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield). Krishna Guha (2010) ‘Paulson Claims Russia Tried to Foment Fannie-Freddie Crisis’, Financial Times, 29 January 2010. Mearsheimer, J. (2001) The Tragedy of Great Power Politics (New York: W. W. Norton). NATO Office of Information and Press (1994) ‘Partnership for Peace Invitation’ (Issued by the heads of state and government participating in the meeting of the North Atlantic Council held at NATO Headquarters, Brussels, 10–11 January 1994). New York Times (2010) ‘Ambassador Eikenberry’s Cables on U.S. Strategy in Afghanistan’, 26 January 2010. Opall-Rome, B. (1997) ‘US–Sino Slogan Elicits Confusion’, Defense News, 10 November 1997. Pape, R. A. (2009) ‘Empire Falls’, The National Interest Online, 22 January 2009. Pew Research Center (2009) ‘U.S. Seen as Less Important, China as More Powerful’, 3 December 2009.


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Reuters, 5 December 1994. Rubin, J. P. (1998) ‘Press Statement, U.S. Department of State’, 15 July 1998. Schake, K. (2010) ‘Stop Spending So Much on Defense’, ForeignPolicy, 20 January 2010. Schweller, R. (1994) ‘Bandwagoning for Profit: Bringing the Revisionist State Back In’, International Security, 19: 1, pp. 72–107. Sens, A. (2001) ‘From Collective Defense to Cooperative Securty?: The New NATO and Nontraditional Challenges and Mission’ in S. V. Papacosma, S. Kay and M. Rubin (eds) NATO After Fifty Years (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources). Shanker, T. and Kulish, N. (2008) ‘Russia Lashes out on Missile Deal’, New York Times, 15 August 2008. United Press International, 12 January 1994. Van Evera, S. (1998) ‘Offense, Defense, and Causes of War’, International Security, 22: 4, pp. 5–43. Voice of America (2009) ‘U.S.–Georgia Partnership’, 29 June 2009. Walt, S. (1985) ‘Alliance Formation and the Balance of World Power’, International Security, 22: 4, pp. 3–43. White House (1997a) ‘Remarks by President Clinton and President Constantinescu to Citizens of Romania’, 11 July 1997. White House (1997b) ‘Joint U.S. China Statement’, 29 October 1997, http:// clinton6.nara.gov/1997/10/1997-10-29-joint-us-china-statement.html, date accessed 26 April 2010. White House Information Service (1994) ‘Background Briefing’, 27 May 1994. Whitlock, C. (2010) ‘Obama 2011 Budget Request: Defense Department’, Washington Post, 1 February 2010.


3 The ‘Natural Ally’? The ‘Natural Partner’? – Australia and the Atlantic Alliance Stephan Frühling and Benjamin Schreer

Introduction: Utility is a two-way street Among the long list of states with which NATO intensified its relations after September 2001, Australia appears to be a ‘natural partner’ for the Alliance (Myrli, 2008). As a Western liberal democracy rooted in the Westminster tradition, it is culturally and politically close to both European and North American countries. Throughout its history, it has been closely allied to the UK and, since World War II, to the US. Through the ANZUS Treaty, the US and Australia have exchanged pledges of mutual assistance. Australia also has a significant number of troops deployed to the NATO-led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan, most of which are operating in Oruzgan province in Regional Command South. With 1550 personnel, Australia was the largest non-NATO troop contributor to ISAF in 2010, ranking 10th out of 43 troop-contributing nations overall (NATO, 2010a). Political and military ties between Australia and the Alliance have been strengthened in recent years. Since 2006, NATO recognizes Australia as a ‘global partner’ or ‘partner across the globe,’ and the Australian government posted a defense attaché to Brussels. NATO and Australia have deepened information sharing arrangements, and Australian personnel participate in select activities of the Partnership for Peace (PfP) ‘toolkit.’ Finally, some commentators have even mentioned the possibility of full NATO membership for Australia (Daalder and Goldgeir, 2006). This idea fell short of consensus within the 40


Stephan Frühling and Benjamin Schreer

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Alliance, but there is general agreement among NATO allies that the relationship with Australia is important and should be strengthened. However, while from a NATO perspective Australia’s attractiveness after 2001 as a contributing nation in Afghanistan, a close ally of the US, and a highly capable force provider is clear, little research has so far been conducted on the utility of NATO for Australia.1 Against this background, this chapter analyses whether Australia really is a ‘natural’ partner for the Alliance. What are Australian strategic priorities, and how do they influence its relations with NATO? What are the prospects for deeper relations between Australia and the Atlantic Alliance? And to what extend do Australian strategic decision-makers perceive cooperation with NATO as a complement or substitute to direct cooperation with the US? In order to answer these questions, the chapter is laid out in six sections. This introduction places the chapter’s main questions within the context of the book. The second section examines NATO’s approach to partnership with Australia. The third section reviews NATO-Australia cooperation activities before 2001, including during the Cold War, and the fourth examines the pattern of increased cooperation that followed the terror attacks of 11 September 2001. In doing so, it will identify both changes and continuities in the political and military relationship between NATO and Australia. The fifth section analyses the priority order of Australian strategic interests, derived from its strategic debate and several strategic reviews since 11 September 2001, which will serve to demonstrate the particular context within which the closer cooperation between Australia and NATO after 2001 has arisen. The sixth and final section will draw conclusions and highlight future prospects for cooperation between Australia and NATO. In doing so, the chapter will examine the utility of NATO for current and future Australian defense policy; to what extent the Alliance could become more relevant for Australia; and whether the increased cooperation after 2001 was a product of the particular circumstances at the time, or a harbinger of things to come. With a population of just 22 million on an island the size of the continental US, Australia traditionally pursues a policy of defense ‘self-reliance,’ the ability to defend the country without direct assistance from US combat troops. This position consistently leads the country to focus defense investment and policy decisions on their consequences for Australia’s volatile region. This was true during the


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The ‘Natural Ally’? The ‘Natural Partner’?

last decades of the Cold War, when Australia hosted US intelligence facilities but otherwise did not focus its defense effort on the global balance. And it remains so today, when the majority of Australian forces are earmarked for their own neighborhood, and deployments beyond the region are motivated by US alliance considerations as much as by a desire to be a ‘good international citizen.’ In this chapter, NATO’s utility for Australia will therefore be examined on the basis of the concept of strategic interests, rather than shared values. For the purpose of long-term planning in Australian security and defense policy, strategic interests are best understood as those factors in the international system that reduce the likelihood of a direct threat to Australia developing, or factors that would reduce the severity of any such threat. This concept of strategic interests has shaped the development of Australian defense policy since the early 1990s (White, 2008), and continues to be applied explicitly as the basis of current defense policy guidance. In addition, however, the Alliance’s approach to engagement with Asia–Pacific partners, including Australia, determines NATO’s relevance with regards to these strategic interests. In this context, NATO’s difficulties to find consensus on its future role in general have also affected its ability to define clear goals and strategies for the development of substantial partnerships ‘across the globe.’ This has led the Alliance to adopt a ‘customer-driven’ approach to its partnerships (Frühling and Schreer, 2010), which, however, obscures the fact that not all partnerships will be ‘demand-driven’ by partners reaching out to the Alliance. In fact, as this chapter will show, the emphasis on issue-based cooperation in the partnerships, particularly in the framework of the operation in Afghanistan, has served Australia’s interest in a military-technical exchange focused on practical benefits, rather than on political-level dialogue with European NATO members. Australia’s pragmatic approach did not change significantly after September 2001 despite increased cooperation in the context of the Afghanistan mission. Increased cooperation with NATO, especially in Afghanistan, was due to changed circumstances, namely joint military operations and increased engagement by both sides on global issues, and not due to a fundamental change in Australian strategic policy or interests. In this sense, the utility of NATO in the early twenty-first century for Australia could be classified as a ‘temporary complement’ to its alliance with the US, conditional on



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circumstances and not rooted in shared strategic priorities that could form the basis for a long-term and more substantial partnership. Attaining a different quality of relationship would depend on the Atlantic Alliance’s ability and willingness for credible and substantial engagement in the Asia-Pacific region.

NATO’s policy debate on partnerships: More debate than policy After the end of the Cold War, NATO developed a whole array of partnership formats to underpin its changing role as an alliance that took on security roles beyond the treaty area. As NATO expanded its operational reach after 2001 to include Central Asia, the Middle East, and Africa, the need to forge closer political and military ties with countries beyond the traditional Euro-Atlantic area further increased. In the Asia-Pacific region, nations like Australia, Japan, New Zealand, and South Korea appeared particularly attractive to the Alliance, given their military capabilities and shared values with NATO allies, and it is in the context of NATO’s transformation from a regional to a more multifunctional, globally oriented security organization that the issue of a partnership with Australia first arose. However, despite a general consensus within the Alliance to seek closer relations with countries as far as the Asia-Pacific region, the aim and scope of these relationships became subject to intense debate. At the heart of the dispute was, and still is, the political question of whether NATO should assume a global ordering function. Allies such as the US, Canada, and the UK tend to argue for a more global role for NATO. In this context, Anglo-Saxon allies lobbied for the establishment of an institutionalized ‘global partnership forum’ with other US allies, especially Australia and Japan, in 2006 (Kamp, 2006). However, many continental European allies, including Germany and France, have tended to reject such an approach, insisting that security in the Euro-Atlantic area remain the top priority for the Alliance. In fact, the divide among allies on this issue is but one in a whole set of strategic issues on which allies find it difficult to reach consensus in an Alliance of now 28 members (Noetzel and Schreer, 2009a). The difficulties of allies to find consensus on how far relations with countries like Australia should go is reflected in NATO’s official language. The analysis of declarations at summit meetings is particularly


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useful since these documents provide insight into allied consensus or disagreement on strategic issues, including relations with Australia. The first NATO summit declaration after the 11 September attacks, in November 2002 in Prague, did not mention Australia or any other Asia-Pacific nations; it vaguely spoke about the need for new partner initiatives (NATO, 2002). The summit focused on defense transformation aspects, and the NATO operation in Afghanistan was still in its early stages. The next meeting in Istanbul in 2004 was more specific. While the summit declaration made reference to, inter alia, Central Asia, and the broader Middle East, it did not mention Asia-Pacific as a region with which to build deeper relations (NATO, 2004a). In the summit communiqué, the allies ‘welcome the interest shown by several countries who are developing individual, mutually beneficial dialogues on security matters’ and single out Australia as a particular example of ‘contact country’(NATO, 2004b). Not identifying any NATO goals or strategies for these relationships, the communiqué was a clear indication of NATO’s ‘customer approach’ toward these new partners. NATO’s next summit in Riga again mentioned ‘contact countries’ and opened the PfP ‘toolbox’ to these partners. As the only specific benefit to the Alliance, the summit declaration stated that participation in Alliance operations had ‘demonstrated the political and operational value’ of working more closely with partner countries (NATO, 2006). NATO allies perceived the contribution of troops, especially to the Afghanistan operation, identified as the Alliance’s ‘key priority,’ as the most important function of the partnerships with countries like Australia. Before the summit, allies had disagreed about the US initiative to establish institutionalized partnership formats at the political level of NATO, in particular a ‘Global Partnership Forum.’ NATO Secretary General, Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, had named Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, and Japan as those countries to build ‘global partnerships’ with, given that their values and security interests reflected those of the Alliance (de Hoop Scheffer, 2006). However, the agreed declaration itself did not identify any specific country. At the next meeting, the 2008 Bucharest Summit, NATO’s focus was again on the ISAF operation in Afghanistan (NATO, 2008a). The summit declaration made it clear that the predominant value of what it now called ‘relations with other partners across the globe’ continued to lie in these countries’ contributions to the operation in



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Afghanistan, stressing that NATO did ‘particularly welcome significant contribution by Australia, Japan, New Zealand and Singapore to NATO-led efforts in Afghanistan.’ The document reemphasized that it was up to the partner countries to individually determine their degree of relations with NATO in the context of ‘Tailored Cooperation Packages’ (NATO, 2008b). Finally, the latest, 2009 summit communiqué of the meeting in Kehl and Strasbourg reiterated the new term ‘partners across the globe’ and their ‘significant contributions [. . .] to NATOled operations, and in particular those by Australia, Japan, New Zealand and the Republic of Korea to our mission in Afghanistan’ (NATO, 2009). For nearly a decade, NATO has, thus, still not formulated a clear and coherent policy on what it seeks to achieve with its ‘partnerships across the globe,’ other than valued support to operations in Afghanistan and elsewhere. NATO allies remain divided on whether relationships with countries like Australia should primarily be burden-sharing exercises for operations in Afghanistan, or whether the Atlantic Alliance should use them to ‘become the hub of a globespanning web of various regional cooperative security undertakings among states with the growing power to act’ (Brzezinski, 2009). Consequently, NATO’s ‘customer-driven’ approach to partnerships has largely left it to the partners to decide on areas of interaction, which has made it possible for NATO to advance partnerships at a practical level without facing its own disagreements on the more fundamental aspects of its relationships with partner countries. When examining the utility of NATO for Australia, this leads to an important caveat: Under the ‘customer approach,’ most practical areas of cooperation are demand-driven by the partner state. However, cooperation is not the same as ‘partnership’ and its political connotations, which implies ‘an undertaking with another or others, especially [ . . . ] with shared risks and profits.’2 The Alliance is far from developing a strategy of how to engage the Asia-Pacific region (Frühling and Schreer, 2009b), which remains the region of foremost concern to Australia’s security. In this context of NATO’s indecision about the nature of its global partnerships, Australian demand for practical cooperation cannot automatically be taken as an indicator of demand for a broader ‘partnership’ that implies a level of political commitment. This is especially the case as practical cooperation between NATO allies and Australia long predates the current debate.


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Australia and NATO allies during the twentieth century For the first 150 years of its existence, the defense of Australia was intimately linked to its status as part of the British Empire: first as individual colonies on the Australian continent, and from 1901 as a federated, self-governing dominion. While Australia looked to the Royal Navy to protect it from European naval powers and, in the early twentieth century, Japan, Australian forces participated in most of the Empire’s wars from the second half of the nineteenth century, including both World Wars. They remained deployed in South East Asia until the end of the Vietnam War alongside larger US and UK forces. Participation in far-flung conflicts alongside its Anglo-Saxon allies has thus formed an important part of Australian strategic culture during the twentieth century, and remains important to this day (Evans, 2005; Kilcullen, 2007). Australia was an important participant in the fighting on the Western Front of World War I. During World War II, however, the Japanese threat, and the inability of the UK to prevent the fall of Singapore, led Australia to focus its strategic attention on its own region, and look to the US as its main ally. Both shifts were firmly ensconced in policy and practice by the early 1950s (Frühling, 2009). Unlike Canada, Australia thus did not participate in the Allied effort to defend Western Europe against the Soviet Union. It remained outside the political commitments of the Washington Treaty, and the technical and operational integration through NATO. In the Asian context, however, Australia did build links with several countries that were also NATO members. The flagship among Australia’s strategic commitments is the ANZUS Treaty with New Zealand and the US, signed in 1951. It commits all partners to assist each other in the case of attacks in the Pacific area, albeit in a somewhat weaker formulation than that of the North Atlantic Treaty.3 At the multilateral level,4 Australia was a founding member of the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) in 1954, together with NATO members France, the UK, and the US. Hopes that SEATO might evolve into the equivalent of an Asian NATO proved misplaced, however, as the organization and treaty suffered, inter alia, from an incongruous membership (which included the Western powers as well as Pakistan, Thailand, and the Philippines); sagging commitment to the region by France and, later, the UK; and the fact



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that there were little political or practical incentives for the US to work through the organization when it engaged itself militarily in Indochina (Buszynski, 1983). SEATO was finally abolished in 1977. Australia, however, remained engaged in the region through the Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA), which commit Australia, New Zealand, and the UK to assist in the defense of Malaysia and Singapore. As part of FPDA, Australian and UK military personnel continue to be part of the international staff manning the Integrated Air Defence System on the Malay Peninsula. In parallel with this history of political commitments with NATO member countries in Asia, Australia also cooperated at the technical level. In the political shadow of the ANZUS Treaty, Australia formalized the habits of wartime cooperation of NATO members America, Britain, and Canada with Australia, in the ‘ABCA’ format. ABCA arrangements allow exchange of information and personnel, and coordination and standardization across a range of fields. They include formal programs such as the Air Standardization Coordinating Committee (ASCC), the AUSCANNZUKUS Naval C4 Organization, Combined Communications Electronics Board (CCEB), or the Technical Cooperation Program (TTCP), as well as numerous informal exchanges and contacts, especially at the service level. There is a close correspondence between ABCA and NATO’s Standardization Agreements (STANAGS), in that STANAGS are often based on earlier ABCA definitions, and in turn are often re-badged as ABCA documents (Young, 2003). Through ABCA, Australia thus benefits from NATO’s standardization efforts especially at the service level, but it can do so while working in the culturally more homogenous, and less formalized, environment of Anglo-Saxon cooperation. In contrast, relations with continental European powers were more limited, and focused nearly exclusively on the procurement and sustainment of major defense equipment, including Frenchdesigned Mirage III aircraft, German Leopard tanks and ANZAC frigates, Swedish-designed Collins-class submarines, and Italiandesigned Huon-class minesweeping vessels. In this context, Australia cooperated in a very limited form with NATO as well. For example, in 1990 the NATO Council approved Australia’s participation in the NATO Sea Sparrow Consortium, as the only non-NATO member to date (NATO SEASPARROW Project Offices, 2010). When NATO established standardized principles for the storage and transport of


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ammunition and explosives, Australia adopted these in 1981 for reasons of interoperability as well as best practice considerations (Auditor-General, 1988; Joint Committee of Public Accounts, 1990). Since 1994, Australia has been a full member of NATO’s Insensitive Munitions Information Centre, now the Munitions Safety Information Analysis Centre (Phillips, 1996), with observer status in the relevant Conference of National Armaments Director’s Ammunition Safety Group (AC 326). In practice, Australia is represented in these forums through exchange officers posted to the UK Ministry of Defence (Auditor-General, 2003). After a long hiatus following the Vietnam War, Australia began to deploy forces overseas again in the late 1980s. Support to US military deployments to the Persian Gulf became one of the few visible Australian contributions to the US alliance, beginning with an (aborted) minesweeping mission at the end of the Tanker War in 1988 (Beazley, 2008). Australia has had a presence alongside US forces in the Gulf from 1990 to this day. Following the British withdrawal from ‘east of Suez,’ however, and despite the close ABCA relationship at the service level, there were no close relations with any European country at the strategic level: Unlike New Zealand, for example, Australia did not send naval forces to the Falklands War in 1982, while France’s status as a South Pacific power – with nuclear tests and regional resentment of colonialism – was, overall, a hindrance rather than boon to cooperation with Australia. Since the early 1990s, Australia participated in several UN operations alongside European NATO members, without, however, making such deployments a policy priority in, for example, the 1994 Defence White Paper (Department of Defence, 1994). Rather, in Namibia (1989–90) it fulfilled a commitment made several years earlier; in Cambodia (1991–93) regional considerations were paramount; while in Somalia (1992–93) and Rwanda (1994–95) it was motivated primarily by humanitarian considerations. When Yugoslavia disintegrated, New Zealand sent forces to participate in the UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR), in line with the internationalist defense policy set out in its 1991 White Paper (New Zealand Ministry of Defence, 1991). Australia, again, did not. Besides the absence of US requests, concerns about tensions in the Australian Yugoslav community played a role in this decision, which meant that Australia was also not involved in NATO’s subsequent intervention in Kosovo.



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That said, the increased frequency of joint intervention operations during the 1990s led to technical initiatives such as the Multinational Interoperability Council formed in 1996 by the US, the UK, France, Germany, Canada, and Australia, outside the NATO framework. When NATO members including Canada, France, Germany, and the UK participated in the Australian-led INTERFET intervention in East Timor in 1999, they again did so outside the NATO framework. But with the exception of the former colonial power, Portugal, they did not maintain a long-term presence while Australian and New Zealand forces remain deployed to East Timor to this day. By the beginning of the twenty-first century, Australia thus displayed neither a political aversion to engagement with NATO, nor a particular preference for using NATO to engage with its member countries. The overlap of activities by NATO and Australia was simply very small: Australia was not involved in any of the security issues in the Euro-Atlantic area that preoccupied NATO’s attention, especially in the Balkans, and it had alternative fora, especially through ABCA, to engage in much of the more mundane, technical activities of NATO’s various agencies. This was the context in which both NATO and Australia had to adjust to the new security environment following the 11 September attacks in 2001.

A new era? Australia’s cooperation with NATO after September 2001 The message of the Australian conservative Coalition government under the then Prime Minister John Howard to its US ally after the 11 September attacks was one of full support. Just as NATO for the first time invoked Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty, the Howard government invoked Article 4 of the ANZUS Treaty. Australia sent troops to participate in US-led operations in Afghanistan and in Iraq. Additionally, strategic guidance was adjusted to emphasize the threat posed by global terrorism and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. The Department of Defence went so far as to declare that ‘Australia’s vital interests are inextricably linked to the achievement of peace and security in the Middle East’ (Department of Defence, 2005, pp. 8–9), and there was academic speculation of a ‘paradigm shift’ in Australian strategic policy that would raise the importance of global security affairs over regional ones (Hirst, 2007).


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As NATO simultaneously expanded its operational reach and activities far beyond the Euro-Atlantic area, increased political, operational, and technical cooperation between the two sides seemed to be a logical evolution. Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer declared in a speech to the North Atlantic Council in 2004 that Australia and NATO shared common interests in the global fight against terrorism and should, therefore, seek enhanced cooperation (Downer, 2004). This view was met with approval by Jaap de Hoop Scheffer during the first official visit of a NATO Secretary General to Australia in April 2005, when both sides agreed on the exchange of classified information (NATO, 2005a). On this occasion, Australia announced the appointment of a military attaché to NATO to facilitate political and operational cooperation with the Alliance (NATO, 2005b). The Alliance also offered Australia participation in activities from the PfP program ‘toolkit.’ Australia thus expanded its low-level, technical engagement with Alliance activities and bodies, and has since taken part in, for example, exchanges relating to civil–military coordination; chemical, biological, nuclear and radiological incident management; logistics conferences; and the submarine commanders’ conference. In 2007, the 2005 Exchange of Letters on information sharing was superseded by a formal treaty on the security of information, which eventually entered into force in May 2009 (Australian Treaty Series, 2009). From 2006, the Australian contribution to a Dutch Provincial Reconstruction Team in the Oruzgan province in Afghanistan – part of the NATO-led ISAF operation in Afghanistan – provided an additional impetus to cooperation between the Alliance and Australia. Australian liaison officers are embedded in ISAF and higher NATO headquarters, and Australian government officials have participated in political discussion within NATO at the ambassador and ministerial level. For example, current Foreign Minister Stephen Smith, like his predecessor Alexander Downer, has addressed the North Atlantic Council, and Prime Minister Kevin Rudd participated in the Afghanistan-related discussions at the NATO Summit in Bucharest in April 2008. While these steps certainly reflect a growing overlap between Australian and NATO activities after September 2001, the operation in Afghanistan has became the focal point of the relationship, especially at the political level. In this context, NATO, with its



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political as well as military capabilities, has become a complement for Australia to the US alliance relationship. However, this has not always worked in favor of a more positive portrayal of the relationship as Prime Minister Rudd and his ministers repeatedly and publicly demanded increased commitment to the operation by NATO’s continental European allies (Myrli, 2008; Shanahan, 2008). On the one hand, this was a reflection of the difficulty of NATO allies to agree on strategy and to commit more resources to the struggle against the Afghan insurgency, which exposed the limits of NATO’s utility for Australia. On the other hand, however, criticism of NATO also served to obscure the fact that Australia’s own contribution is also strictly limited in terms of numbers and national caveats (Epstein, 2010). Hence, increased cooperation and joint operations in Afghanistan after September 2001 were not necessarily indicative of a potential for future cooperation between Australia and the Atlantic Alliance. This became even clearer as defense policy resumed the traditional focus on Australia’s Asia–Pacific strategic interests in the 2009 Defence White Paper.

Australian strategic interests and the Atlantic Alliance Like the previous government’s White Paper from 2000, the Rudd Labor government’s White Paper of 2009, ‘Force 2030,’ provides strategic guidance for Australian defense policy on the basis of a hierarchy of four strategic interests, which are firmly rooted in Australia’s regional geography in the Asia-Pacific region (White, 2009). Foremost of these is the enduring interest in the defense of the country itself. This requires the ability of the Australian Defence Force (ADF) to defend the Australian continent and its maritime approaches without relying on the combat troops of its US ally. The second priority is to support the internal stability and freedom from external threat of countries in Australia’s neighborhood, that is in the south-west Pacific and in Indonesia. The third priority is to maintain strategic stability in the Asia-Pacific region, especially in South-East Asia. Only the fourth and last strategic objective concerns Australia’s contribution to a rules-based, liberal global order, including the Middle East (Department of Defence, 2009, pp. 41–4). The continuity of Australia’s strategic focus on the Asia-Pacific region – in the context of a rising China that is seen as challenging


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the regional balance of power – has also been underlined by recent ADF capability developments. Australian long-term defense planning is focused on a significant expansion of the country’s air and maritime capabilities, with the planned procurement of up to 100 F-35 Joint Strike Fighters, a doubling of the submarine fleet to 12 boats, and the replacement of eight frigates with much larger vessels with increased anti-submarine warfare capabilities. Despite recent operational experience in Iraq and Afghanistan, the expansion of the army will remain capped at eight battalion-sized battle-groups, and in the 2009 White Paper it is explicitly stated that the ADF would not be developed to participate in combat in urban areas outside the AsiaPacific region (Department of Defence, 2009, pp. 70–81). There is thus an enduring focus on regional sea denial and power projection capabilities for contingencies in the Asia-Pacific region. Given Australia’s enduring strategic interests, two main issues stand out with regard to NATO’s utility for Australia: NATO’s contribution to strategic stability in the Asia-Pacific region, and Australia’s and NATO’s role in global security affairs. As regards NATO’s role in the Asia-Pacific, it must be noted that the Alliance so far has failed to formulate any policy of how to approach the region. Despite the fact that their most powerful ally, the US, assigns ever greater emphasis to the region, with significant consequences for the Alliance as a whole, most European allies do not support any role of NATO in Asia-Pacific security. Therefore, without a major disruptive event in the region, NATO’s impact on regional security and the areas of Australia’s priority interests will remain very limited. NATO’s limited role in the Asia-Pacific, and Australia’s increasing concerns about the regional order have important ramifications for the practical relevance of NATO for Australia. The first implication is that apart from the alliance with the US, a number of other defense relationships are much more important for Australia than the EuroAtlantic Alliance. For instance, Australia maintains commitments and close cooperation with New Zealand under the ANZUS Treaty and the ‘Closer Defence Relations’ agreements. In recent years, New Zealand and Australian troops have deployed together to a number of operations in the South Pacific, including in Bougainville, East Timor, Solomon Islands, and Tonga. In South-East Asia, the FDPA continues to play a useful role in maintaining defense cooperation and fostering regional stability (Thayer, 2007). Moreover, important bilateral



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defense relations exist with Indonesia, Thailand, the Philippines, and Japan. Therefore, Australia can make use of a substantial set of formal defense relationships within the Asia-Pacific region which, unlike NATO, do contribute to the country’s three main strategic interests. This leaves Australian contributions to a rules-based, liberal global order as the area where Australia’s and NATO activities are most likely to overlap in the future. In this context, however, it is important to note that, political rhetoric aside, Australia’s contribution to the ISAF operation in Afghanistan is still predominantly a means to demonstrate its commitment to the bilateral defense relationship with the US (Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, 2009). Just like some of NATO’s East European members, Australia is thus ultimately operating in Afghanistan for reasons that lie much closer to home: ANZUS remains Australia’s ultimate guarantor of defense against an existential threat, and the close relationship with the US in terms of access to technology, logistical support, and intelligence underpins the ADF’s ability to operate independently in Australia’s immediate neighborhood. Australia’s engagement in Afghanistan and Iraq after September 2001 was thus more the consequence of alliance solidarity with its ‘ultimate protector,’ the US, than a sign of any intention to increase the country’s role in global security affairs. Despite the post-11 September operations in Afghanistan and Iraq, stability in the immediate neighborhood and the broader AsiaPacific region remained the dominant concern in Australian strategic thinking. The primary utility of NATO for Australia in global operations has, therefore, been that of a temporary complement to the US in a specific operation, namely Afghanistan. Cynics might see the main benefit for Australia of working with the Atlantic Alliance as providing a political opportunity to hide behind NATO allies when it comes to justifying a relatively limited troop contribution vis-à-vis its US ally. Whatever increased exchanges at the technical level will persist into the future, any de-emphasis of NATO’s role in global security affairs, as advocated by many European allies (Noetzel and Schreer, 2009b), would certainly reduce the political relevance of NATO for Australia even further. In other words, the momentum for increased political and military cooperation between Australia and NATO may well have peaked already.


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Australia and NATO: Temporary utility but lasting familiarity? In conclusion, NATO’s main political and military utility for Australia lies in its function as a temporary complement to the US in the context of the ISAF mission in Afghanistan. In general, though, Australia’s increased cooperation with the Alliance after September 2001 reflects more a continuation of a previous pattern of pragmatic and practical cooperation, than a decisive shift in Australian strategic thinking. From Australia’s point of view, the limited overlap of strategic interests is largely confined to the Afghanistan operation, and does not warrant greater political integration. Consequently, NATO issues still do not rank highly in strategic debate among Australian strategic decision-makers and security pundits. At the end of the day, NATO is but one among a number of partners to work with when it comes to serving the Australia’s ‘wider strategic interests.’ This is reflected in the latest Defence White Paper of 2009, which only briefly mentions the partnership with NATO: In fact, the document devotes equal attention, and the same formulations, to cooperation with the EU (Department of Defence, 2009, p. 100. See also Markovic, 2009). What does this imply for the future of Australian–NATO relations? For the time being, Australian strategic decision-makers will be perfectly satisfied with the country’s current status as one of NATO’s ‘partners across the globe,’ without formal institutional access. They do not have any interest in joining an ‘alliance of democracies,’ neither today nor in the foreseeable future. Participation in an institutionalized political NATO format would not correspond to Australia’s primary focus on the Asia-Pacific, and may in fact reduce Australia’s policy flexibility in the face of a highly dynamic Asia-Pacific security architecture (Grey, 2006, p. 30). Already, the Australian government needs to strike a delicate balance between its traditional orientation toward the ANZUS alliance with the US and increased economic integration with China. In recent years, Australia was thus, for example, a very hesitant participant in the so-called ‘quadrilateral’ dialogues with the US, Japan, and India (Medcalf, 2008), and deeper political relations between China and the Atlantic Alliance would therefore certainly be a precondition for Australia to substantially increase and deepen political ties with NATO (Fogh Rasmussen, 2010).5



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Increasing NATO’s utility for Australia will ultimately depend on a commonality of core strategic interests. For Australia, these remain wedded to regional instability and shifting relativities in the balance between Asia’s great powers. In light of these challenges closer to home, there is very little support on either side of the political aisle for a more substantial global role. As long as NATO has no substantial and credible strategic role in the region of greatest concern to Australia’s security, close political engagement with NATO provides little added value. And in the light of the rise of China and India, Australia’s traditional focus on stability in the Asia-Pacific region will only increase. Thus, any new impetus for developing the relationship must come from NATO itself. The Alliance would need to develop a strategy for its future engagement in the Asia-Pacific and to move beyond the current focus on troop contributions (Lyon, 2008). Alas, it is difficult to conceive NATO allies agreeing on such a course. More likely, NATO will maintain its ‘customer approach,’ in which the Alliance largely leaves it up the partners to define their desired areas of cooperation. Such an approach does not entail significant political, military, and financial commitments for NATO. But it would allow Australia to continue the increased level of more mundane technical exchanges and cooperation of recent years. Somewhat paradoxically, however, one of the effects of increased familiarity and engagement with NATO for Australia was to create a host of new bilateral defense relationships, for example with the Netherlands over Afghanistan, and the Czech Republic over weapons of mass destruction incident response, that are taxing the limited resources of the international policy department in the Australian Department of Defence. Hence, when the 1st Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment participated in a month-long training exercise in 2008 at the US Army’s Joint Multinational Readiness Center in Hohenfels, Germany, it did so not in the framework of NATO, but of the Anglo-Saxon cooperation in ABCA (Department of Defence, 2008). Australia may be a ‘natural partner’ for NATO, but that does not mean that the reverse is true as well.

Notes 1. Exceptions include Grey, 2006; Lyon, 2008; Frühling and Schreer, 2009a. 2. Definition of ‘partner’ in The Oxford Dictionary of English.


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3. Article IV of ANZUS states that ‘Each Party recognizes that an armed attack in the Pacific Area on any of the Parties would be dangerous to its own peace and safety and declares that it would act to meet the common danger in accordance with its constitutional processes.’ See Australian Treaty Series, 1952 no. 2 (Canberra: Department of External Affairs). 4. The ANZUS Treaty is a tripartite treaty between the US, Australia, and New Zealand. The US suspended its treaty obligations toward New Zealand in 1986 after that country did not allow access to New Zealand ports by nuclear-powered US Navy vessels, but the treaty remains in force between Australia and New Zealand, and Australia and the US. 5. At the 2010 Munich Security Conference, the new NATO Secretary General, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, advocated for the Alliance to become a global forum for consultations on security issues. In his view, China should be part of such a forum.

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Downer, A. (2004) ‘Enhanced Cooperation with NATO in a New Security Environment’, Speech to the North Atlantic Council, Brussels, 19 May 2004, http://parlinfo.aph.gov.au/parlInfo, date accessed 11 March 2010. Epstein, R. (2010) ‘Rift with US over Curbs on Diggers’, The Age, 9 March 2009, http://www.theage.com.au/national/rift-with-us-over-curbson-diggers-20100308-psqe.html, date accessed 15 March 2010. Evans, M. (2005) ‘The Tyranny of Dissonance’, Study Paper, no. 306 (Canberra: Land Warfare Centre). Fogh Rasmussen, A. (2010) Speech at the Munich Security Conference, 7 February 2010, http://www.securityconference.de/Rasmussen-AndersFogh.459.0.html, date accessed 19 March 2010. Frühling, S. (2009) A History of Australian Strategic Policy (Canberra: Defense Publishing Service). Frühling, S. and Schreer, B. (2009a) ‘Australia’s Last Priority: Lessons for the Future of NATO’s Global Partnerships’, IP Global Edition, Vol. 10, pp. 46–50. Frühling, S. and Schreer, B. (2009b) ‘NATO’s New Strategic Concept and US Commitments in the Asia-Pacific’, RUSI Journal, Vol. 154, No. 5, pp. 98–103. Frühling, S. and Schreer, B. (2010) ‘Creating the Next Generation of Partnerships’, RUSI Journal, Vol. 155, No. 1, pp. 52–7. Grey, J. (2006) ‘Future Directions for NATO: An Australian Perspective’ in R. Asmus (ed.) NATO and Global Partners: Views from the Outside, Riga Papers (Washington, DC: The German Marshall Fund of the United States). Hirst, C. (2007) ‘The Paradigm Shift: 11 September and Australia’s Strategic Reformation’, Australian Journal of International Affairs, Vol. 61, No. 2, pp. 175–92. de Hoop Scheffer, J. (2006) ‘Reflections on the Riga Summit’, NATO Review, Issue 4, http://www.nato.int/docu/review/2006/issue4/english/art1.html, date accessed 8 March 2010. Joint Committee of Public Accounts (1990) Review of Auditor-General’s Efficiency Audits-Department of Defence: Safety Principles for Explosives and RAAF Explosive Ordnance, Report 202 (Canberra: Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia). Kamp, K-H. (2006) ‘ “Global Partnership”: A New Conflict within NATO?’, Analysen und Argumente der Konrad-Adenauer Stiftung, no. 29, Berlin: KonradAdenauer Foundation. Kilcullen, D. (2007) ‘Australian Statecraft: The Challenge of Aligning Policy with Strategic Culture’, Security Challenges, Vol. 3, No. 4, pp. 45–65. Lyon, R. (2008) NATO, Australia and the Future Partnership (Canberra: Australian Strategic Policy Institute). Markovic, N. (2009) Courted by Europe? Advancing Australia’s Relations with the European Union in the New Security Environment (Canberra: Parliamentary Library Research Service). Medcalf, R. (2008) ‘Squaring the Triangle: An Australian Perspective on Asian Security Minilateralism’ in W. Tow, M. Auslin, R. Medcalf, A. Tanaka, Z. Feng and S. Simon (eds) Assessing the Trilateral Strategic Dialogue, Special Report (Seattle: National Bureau of Asian Research).


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Myrli, S. (2008) Contributiosn of Non-NATO Members to NATO Operations, 159 DSCFC 08 E (Brussels: NATO Parliamentary Assembly). NATO (2002) Prague Summit Declaration, 21 November 2002, http://www. nato.int/docu/pr/2002/p02-127e.htm, date accessed 17 March 2010. NATO (2004a) The Istanbul Declaration: Our Security in a New Era, 28 June 2004, http://www.nato.int/docu/pr/2004/p04-097e.htm, date accessed 17 March 2010. NATO (2004b) Istanbul Summit Communiqué, 28 June, http://www.nato.int/ docu/pr/2004/p04-096e.htm, date accessed 8 March 2010. NATO (2005a) ‘Speech by NATO Secretary General, Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, at the Australian Defence College’, 1 April 2005, http://www.nato.int/docu/ speech/2005/s050401b.htm, date accessed 11 March 2010. NATO (2005b) ‘NATO and Australia Enhance Cooperation’, http://www. nato.int/docu/update/2005/03-march/e0331a.htm, date accessed 11 March 2010. NATO (2006) Riga Summit Declaration, 29 November, http://www.nato.int/ docu/pr/2006/p06-150e.htm, date accessed 8 March 2010. NATO (2008a) ISAF’s Strategic Vision, 3 April 2008, http://www.nato.int/ cps/en/natolive/official_texts_8444.htm?mode=pressrelease, date accessed 17 March 2010. NATO (2008b) Bucharest Summit Declaration, 3 April, http://www.nato.int/ cps/en/natolive/official_texts_8443.htm, date accessed 8 March 2010. NATO (2009) Strasbourg/ Kehl Summit Declaration, 4 April 2009, http:// www.nato.int/cps/en/natolive/news_52837.htm?mode=pressrelease, date accessed 8 March 2010. NATO (2010) ISAF ‘Placemat’, http://www.nato.int/cps/en/natolive/index. htm, date accessed 8 March 2010. NATO SEASPARROW Project Offices (2010) https://www.natoseasparrow.org/ history.aspx, date accessed 22 March 2010. New Zealand Ministry of Defence and New Zealand Defence Force (1991) The Defence of New Zealand 1991 (Wellington: New Zealand Government). Noetzel, T. and Schreer, B. (2009a) ‘Does a Multi-tier NATO Matter? The Atlantic Alliance and the Process of Strategic Change’, International Affairs, Vol. 85, No. 2, pp. 211–26. Noetzel, T. and Schreer, B. (2009b) ‘NATO’s Vietnam? Afghanistan and the Future of the Atlantic Alliance’, Contemporary Security Policy, Vol. 30, No. 3, pp. 529–47. Oxford Dictionary of English, second, revised edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Phillips, P. G. (1996) ‘Can a Country with Limited Defence Resources Mix It with the Big Boys in the International IM Arena?’, Paper for DDESB Seminar, Las Vegas, 20–22 August 1996, http://www.dtic.mil/cgibin/GetTRDoc?AD=ADA498066&Location=U2&doc=GetTRDoc.pdf, date accessed 22 March 2010. Shanahan, D. (2008) ‘Kevin Rudd in Bucharest for NATO Summit on Afghanistan’, The Australian, 3 April, http://www.theaustralian.com.au/



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news/rudd-commits-more-to-afghanistan/story-e6frg6t6-1111115968963, date accessed 12 March 2010. Strategic and Defence Studies Centre (2009) Australian Interests and Strategy in Afghanistan, Canberra, 5 March 2009, transcript at http://rspas.anu.edu. au/papers/sdsc/TranscriptSDSCAfghanistanconference.pdf, date accessed 10 March 2010. Thayer, C. (2007) ‘The Five Power Defence Arrangements: The Quit Achiever’, Security Challenges, Vol. 3, No. 1, pp. 79–96. Young, T-D. (2003) ‘Cooperative Diffusion through Cultural Similarity: The Postwar Anglo-Saxon Experience’ in E. Goldman and L. Eliason (eds) The Diffusion of Military Technology and Ideas (Stanford: Stanford University Press). White, H. (2008) ‘Strategic Interests in Australian Defence Policy: Some Historical and Methodological Reflections’, Security Challenges, Vol. 4, No. 2, pp. 63–79. White, H. (2009) ‘A Wobbly Bridge: Strategic Interests and Objectives in Force 2030’, Security Challenges, Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 21–9.


4 Partnerships to the East and South: A ‘Win-Win’ Policy Janne Haaland Matlary

Introduction In this chapter we analyze the effects of NATO partnerships in the European rim, to the south (Balkans) and to the east (Central Europe and beyond). The states included are: Bosnia-Herzegovina, Serbia, and Montenegro in the Balkans, and Moldova, Armenia, Azerbadijan, Kazakhstan, Georgia, and the Ukraine in the Caucausus and Central Asia. For the first group there exists a political commitment toward eventual membership for all these states, provided that the conditions stipulated by NATO are met: the partnership is, therefore, a step on the way to membership. For the Caucasians and Central Asians, however, the situation is different: Although NATO has an ‘open door’ policy, not all these states want membership. Only Georgia among them still desires membership. The Ukraine, after the presidential election of pro-Russian Janukovich in 2010, announced that partnership suffices, as discussed in Bukkvoll’s chapter. Kazakhstan and Armenia explicitly do not aim for membership, probably due to close relations with Russia (McDermott, 2008, p. 616). Partnership in this part of the world is, therefore, not a step toward membership. The partnership–membership dynamic is a very important one in terms of its effects for NATO because the latter can put pressure on states that aim for membership, but not those who are satisfied with being partners. I analyze this political dynamic later in the chapter. 60


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The question of utility also depends on the strategic vision that NATO has, if any: Does NATO aim for a specific political or military utility in its partnership policy? In this chapter we first discuss what strategic thinking regarding partnerships to the east and south means. Then we ask what kinds of effects strategic assumptions imply. Does NATO seek certain effects in these states? Or are the effects more spontaneous results that may or may not materialize? Are they primarily political and less military? Turning to the empirical analysis, we give an overview of the partnership activities of the countries in this group, highlighting the most important states, and looking at strategy and effects.

Strategy vs. policy Is there a partnership strategy in NATO? There is a partnership policy in NATO.1 It consists of a hierarchy of partnership stages,2 policy goals, and ways of reaching them. But a policy is not a strategy. Strategic thinking is goal-oriented, that is, it specifies a clear goal and the means to reach it. But unlike policy, which may also do both these things, a strategy is also marked by its interactive character: it takes into account countervailing powers and adversarial actors, and calculates which moves should be made in light of this interaction (Baylis and Wirtz, 2007). This would mean that possible opposition to NATO partnership or membership is considered, that is, that NATO considers how Russia may or may not react to its plans. A strategic vision of, for example, Georgian membership would imply that NATO foresees a Russian military reaction and plans for its own reaction, and that NATO has considered the relevance of Article 5 in the case of Georgian membership. Does NATO have a membership–partnership strategy in this sense? During a series of interviews in October 2009, I posed this question to NATO officials and diplomats at NATO headquarters in Brussels. They all agreed that there was no clear strategy behind the development of partnership policy. Both enlargement and partnership were driven more by commitments than by strategy, said one; the possibility for extending NATO to new states opened up after the Cold War, and the process of both partnership and later membership was driven by the demands of the states that wanted to join rather than by NATO. ‘The processes were driven by events,’ said one official, ‘there


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was no plan for memberships as a result of membership, but NATO wanted to build bridges.’3 As pressure for admitting the Visegrád states increased in the 1990s, the partnership policy has to evolve as well, and MAP was created. In security and defense studies, realism and variants of this strategic tradition have traditionally been the key point of departure (Collins, 2007). Central concepts are balance of power and ‘Realpolitik’ (Collins, 2007, chapter 2). On such a view, partnerships are useful in order to balance against a potential enemy state, either as a geo-political factor in creating a ‘buffer’ zone, and/or in ensuring that the partner brings military assistance to bear. Partnerships on NATO’s rim bordering on Russia will be useful in this ‘buffer state’ respect and ensure that NATO’s geo-political reach increases, to the extent of actually bordering on Russia. Enlargement, including the Ukraine and Georgia, would increase NATO’s geo-political scope, and this would seem to be a interesting strategy for a military alliance as long as Russia remains a source of potential insecurity for NATO states. In the Soviet era such a strategy was of course impossible, but after the Cold War NATO enjoyed a decade and more of a very weak Russia, and memberships and partnerships to the East were created at a rapid pace (Solomon, 1998). It would, therefore, seem to be a reasonable hypothesis that NATO followed a realist strategy of extending partnerships in this period: Hyphothesis 1: NATO seeks to extend its geo-political power through memberships and partnerships to the east But partnerships have not only been extended in the direction of Russia, but also to Balkan states. Indeed, NATO memberships and partnerships seem to follow the same pattern as do new memberships for the EU, OSCE, Council of Europe (CoE), and so on. All these organizations have absorbed new members after the Cold War at a brisk pace, in a way that is oftentimes called ‘therapeutic membership policy’ (Matlary, 2002). The strategy has been to include new states as members before they were really ready to make this move, on the philosophy that they would educate themselves in democratic norms and secure a democratic development through being granted membership. As discussed below, NATO memberships were, roughly speaking, decided at the same time, as was EU membership for the Central European states; NATO partnership often coincides with CoE



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and/or OSCE membership. EU and NATO membership are the hardest and most prestigious to achieve, whereas almost every state may join the OSCE and the CoE, which is the ‘outer circle’ (Matlary, 2002). To create stable peace through democratization is the major contending theory to that of realism. The ‘democratic peace’ theory is well established as a basis for empirical research (see Østerud, 2010, for a critical survey). The major conclusion is that democracies do not wage war on each other. The idea that democratization is the very key to security policy has also become extremely prominent in Europe after the Cold War, to such an extent that coercive military diplomacy seems outdated (Buzan and Wæver, 2004). Memberships and partnerships for NATO as well as other international organizations (IOs) logically seem to result from this desire to socialize new states into a democratic framework. Alexandra Gheciu’s case study of the role of such socialization in the NATO membership process toward Central Europe shows that the role of socialization was deemed very important on the part of NATO and that it formed the basis of membership policy toward the Czech Republic and Poland (Gheciu, 2009). In her case studies Gheciu found that NATO worked on the assumption that socialization into liberal-democratic norms is the key to peace and security. The same conclusion is very evident in Rebecca Moore’s study of NATO after the Cold War (Moore, 2007). In this book Moore traces the development of membership and partnership policy and aptly calls NATO’s policy ‘a vehicle for democracy promotion.’ In Moore’s analysis there is no trace of strategic thinking on the part of NATO in these years: everything is centered on the development of liberal democracy in formerly Communist states. She makes a convincing case for the ‘democratic peace’ theory, but works primarily from official documents and does not attempt to test a realist hypothesis, something which is a weakness when we know how sensitive such strategic considerations are in a military alliance, and that they are thus generally not a topic for open discussion. We can, therefore, formulate a second hypothesis: Hypothesis 2: NATO’s membership and partnership strategy is based on the idea that democracies ensure peace, and is aimed at domestic socialization.


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When MAP-status for Georgia resulted in strong Russian reactions in 2008, to the extent that Russia invaded Georgia when given a plausible reason – to be discussed below – it seems clear that NATO states had not thought much about the consequences of extending the Article 5 guarantee to Georgia as part of the planned membership. From a realist strategic angle, this is the main issue: Am I prepared to defend a new member of the alliance militarily? But from the ‘democratic peace’ angle, Article 5 is no longer the main priority. In Europe, it was as if the Russian reaction in the Georgian case were one of surprise; as if the use of military power in Europe and its vicinity had been superseded for good. It seemed as if NATO had granted the promise of membership for Georgia without considering the Article 5 implications. This indicates that hypothsis 2 is more plausible than hypothesis 1. In sum, under a H1 realist security strategy NATO would prefer membership of new states only where the obligation of Article 5 seems theoretical, and here NATO will benefit both militarily and politically from many members and many partners. It may prefer partners in terms of contributions, as members have an equal say in NATO decision-making. Partners have no say and may even be interested in membership and therefore contribute much. What about H2 effects? If NATO’s strategy toward the east and south is based on the ‘democratic peace,’ how will partnerships fare? Here it is a matter of influence on the domestic structures of the state in question. A democratic state is assumed to be a peaceful state, and the main point of security policy is to develop and deepen the structures of rule of law, democracy, and balance of power. NATO, like the EU, can wield maximum influence when a state is a candidate for membership, as the findings of Sedelmeier (2001) shows. Once a state is a member, it has equal rights to that of other states; if a state is not intending membership, neither the EU nor NATO have any leverage over it. As we gather, the difference is one of power: Both as a member and as a partner, the ‘new’ state has equal power to EU or NATO states. But as a candidate, the EU or NATO wields power over it.

Effects of partnerships: How important is membership? The political dynamics of partnership–membership are of key importance. From research on EU membership conditionality we know



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that states without a membership prospect are unmotivated to effect changes (Sedelmeier, 2001). Studies of EU enlargement show that rational utility calculations play a greater role than learning and socialization: The work by Schimmelfpennig and Sedelmeier (2005) is an empirical study into how conditionality works. They find that candidate states for membership can be leveraged into change. But this form of power disappears once a member. In short, ‘the hope of EU membership is a major incentive for reform among prospective members’ (Barnes, 2010, p. 434). They also found that the motivation is instrumental rather than value-driven. Does NATO pursue a strategy of turning partners into members? A natural starting point is to look at the EU’s expansion east- and southwards after the Cold War. There is a stated parallel between NATO and the EU in terms of which states that became members: the two organizations have followed the same pattern of expansion. They also have similar philosophies about membership, that is to spread certain values that amount to liberal democracy: human rights, democratic process, the rule of law. This includes the civilian control of military forces in the case of NATO, and also the premise that democracies lead to peace. Building peaceful Europe through democratization is the raison d’être of the EU. In the EU, the criteria for membership are the so-called Copenhagen criteria of 1993, consisting of rule and law, human rights, democracy, and the market economy, and there is also provision for the peaceful settlement of disputes and good neighborly relations. Similarly, NATO’s Membership Action Plan (MAP) states that aspiring members are assumed to ‘settle their international disputes by peaceful means, demonstrate commitment to the rule of law and human rights, settle ethnic disputes or external territorial disputes including irredentist claims or internal jurisdictional disputes by peaceful means in accordance with OSCE principles and pursue good neighborly relations, establish appropriate democratic and civilian control over their armed forces, refrain from the threat or use of force [ . . . ]’ (NATO, 1999, pp. 1–2). The EU has had five rounds of enlargement since 1950, but only after the Cold War with enlargements to the east did it begin it apply conditionality: ‘the Copenhagen criteria (of 1993) indicated that the EU was prepared to go much further than it had done in the past to influence the applicant states’ (Barnes and Barnes, 2010, p. 420).


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In the latter part of the 1990s, conditionality also became common in development aid and trade agreements (Matlary, 2002). By contrast to the EU, NATO has not exercised conditionality in its projects under the PfP.4 On the contrary, participation in such projects has been voluntary. The EU also has a ‘neighborhood policy’ (ENP) which would be the counterpart of NATO’s partnership policy. It was developed further into an Eastern Partner’s Initiative, launched by the Council of Ministers in May 2008. The ENP is not aimed at potential members, but is an alternative for those states that may never apply for or achieve membership. It is the EU’s ‘mechanism for ensuring the maintenance of shared values beyond its borders’ (Barnes and Barnes, 2007, p. 433), and includes Moldova, Georgia, and the Ukraine. In sum, the EU has a clear membership policy in terms of what prospective members must conform to, and it has an actor capacity in the form of the Commission and its powers that can put pressure on candidate countries. The impact of the EU on these states has been formidable. The same is not true, however, when it comes to the EU’s partnership policy, the ENP. Turning now to the NATO-partner state, how is that relationship? As we have seen in the case of the EU, the Commission has a lot of leverage over candidate countries throughout the period of adaptation. In the case of NATO, there is no such leverage: ‘Fewer levers than that of the EU,’ says one official.5 Both enlargement and partnership are, in the main, the results of demands by states that want these commitments, and not the result of NATO strategy to get new members. Further, the content of the partnership relationships varies very much, unlike in the EU where there is a number of areas that have to be negotiated in the candidacy process. In NATO partnerships, the states themselves decide which projects they want to undertake even when they aim at membership. The very active partners Sweden and Finland, called ‘non-NATO allies,’ are maximally present in all partnership activities as well as in international operations (see Petersson’s chapter), followed by Austria, Switzerland, and so on. For these states the interest is not in prospective membership, but in modernizing the armed forces. NATO offers professional military interoperability and training possibilities as well as actual experience in multinational operations. Thus, there is the paradoxical situation that partners that do not aim at membership are extremely active in their partnership relations with NATO



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whereas others that may become members, such as the Balkan states, are not so eager to ‘perform.’ There is not necessarily a partnership– membership dynamic in the NATO-candidate relationship because there is not such a specified program of adaptation to follow as in the EU case. The MAP-process has, however, resulted in more detailed annual reports from partner states than before. These reports used to be very general and uninteresting, said one NATO official,6 but with MAP they became more orderly and focused. There is an ‘inspection’ by NATO: a visit from HQ that lasts about a week, where problems are discussed and where one talks with other representatives from organizations such as the EU, OSCE, and so on. There may be cooperation between NATO and the EU on the ground, so to speak, said another official, but centrally, in Brussels, there is no coordination. The EU takes no interest in what NATO does in the states where it has candidate processes going on. There is thus no exploitation of the potential of common action, pressure, or leverage from the EU and NATO combined. Instead, they both have their own processes. There is no indication of a common effort to influence partner states on the part of European IOs. The EU wields influence because it has a comprehensive program for potential members and is a unitary actor with major powers over the applicant state. But NATO has no membership plans for the partner states, no comprehensive program, and no central actor in Brussels that can drive processes of change and influence. In conclusion, NATO may exercise power over membership candidates, but not to the same extent and with the scope of the EU. In the case where membership is not the specified goal, NATO has much less leverage over the partner country. Based on interviews with NATO officials it seems that there is no strategic reasoning about this at NATO headquarters. Partners are offered projects and assistance, but not arm-twisted into accepting these.

Effects of partnerships for NATO When asked about effects, one ambassador to NATO from a partner state replied that NATO achieves general political influence in a democratic direction and gets some troop contributions, while the partner states sometimes derive simple benefits like learning English,


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modern, democratic control of the armed forces, interoperability, and so on.7 The NATO ‘footprint’ in the partner states is weak. If we think along the lines of the two hypotheses outlined above, the expected effects of memberships and partnerships will vary with the assumptions made. Given H1, we can deduce that membership will entail a major risk in terms of having to defend the new member according to Article 5, but that the threshold for manipulating a member will be much higher than manipulating a partner because the latter does not enjoy the Article 5 guarantee. From the point of view of the potential member, membership is preferable if it fears its neighbors, but from the point of view of NATO, membership carries very high risk in terms of obligation to defend a new member. NATO therefore can be assumed to prefer partnerships with states that are at risk unless NATO itself has major security interests in these new states. Given this logic, NATO should prefer partnership and not membership for states such as Georgia and the Ukraine, given that NATO willingness to risk Article 5 defense of these states is small if not nonexistent. The cost-benefit calculus is such that NATO’s security gain from a larger geo-political ‘footprint’ on Russia’s border is less than the obligation incurred by Article 5. Yet when we look at NATO history regarding these two states, they were both declared to be in the process for membership. This indicated that H2 rather than H1 was the basis for NATO policy, as argued above. There is no indication that NATO aimed to achieve the effect of a larger geo-political reach. With regard to other and more country-specific effects of partnership, we can divide these into military and political effects. The military effects are here defined as contributions to operations with modern training and equipment. Few new members or partners have substantial offers here, except for Poland and the Ukraine, but we note that all sorts of contributions can be useful in Stabilisation & Reconstruction operations that are long-lasting and comprehensive. Provincial Reconstruction Teamss in Afghanistan are but one example. As most operations are non-Article 5, it does not matter whether the state is a member or a partner, although it may be much more important for a prospective member to contribute than for a state with less commitment to NATO. The political legitimacy that rather unimportant military contributions represent is also useful. When a partner state makes a token contribution to, for example, ISAF, it



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counts as one more country in the large coalition. To have a large coalition of states behind an operation is increasingly important, especially if some of these are Muslim states and the operation is linked to anti-terrorism causes. Thus, partnerships bring political advantages to NATO, both in terms of contributions to operations and in terms of domestic change in the liberal-democratic direction of the partner state. To the state in question, the advantages are military in a direct sense of project assistance and learning, but this also counts as a political advantage inside the state, in the democratic direction, and as a great political advantage abroad, as the partner state becomes part of the international community that ‘counts.’ Regarding the political effects of partnerships under H1, the preferences of the political elite decides. If the state wants a Western and European orientation, the move toward NATO and EU membership is the way. If not, partnership may still entail the international political advantages mentioned above. A partner may seek its primary security relationship with Russia, yet reap benefits from being a NATO partner, as Bukkvoll discusses in his chapter. Military modernization is necessary regardless of political orientation, and NATO is the fount of learning and money. The military effect that NATO can derive from partners under H2 assumptions lies in the reform of the armed forces and in complete civilian control of these. This in turn can lead to useful military contributions to international operations. Further, the main effect both politically and militarily is that the state in question becomes a true democracy, thus ensuring a postulated ‘perpetual peace,’ to paraphrase Immanuel Kant. In sum, the main difference between H1 and H2 is that H1 is concerned with traditional military security and defense policy, taking into account the ‘Realpolitik’ and the importance of the balance of power. According to this perspective, Article 5 is of paramount importance, and there is a major difference between membership and partnership. In H2, however, the only relevant concern for NATO is the extension of democratic values. The effects that NATO derives from partnership therefore differ in how they are viewed by NATO, according to which hypothesis we start from. It thus seems that NATO has pursued a H2 strategy toward both the east and the south: partnerships that focus on reform with an ‘open


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door’ toward membership if the partner so wishes. In the Balkans this seems to be a workable way forward, as all the states desire membership, with the possible exception of Serbia. However, to the east, Russia has a clear stance against Ukrainian and Georgian membership. NATO has an equally clear stance on its right to admit all states that are ready and desirous of joining. Yet we witnessed the intervention in Georgia. This means that NATO finds itself in a realist logic, regardless of its own will. Internal reform, according to the criteria of NATO enlargement, is therefore a necessary but not sufficient condition for joining NATO, just as it is in the EU; as pointed out, the level of such reform is very varied, so there is no objective standard against which to measure preparedness for membership. Without ‘Grosspolitik,’ we see that the normal political process of enlargement proceeds from partnership to membership in both organizations, but when the question becomes one of great power politics, this political dynamic grinds to a halt. The most spectacular case of this in NATO is Georgia, where there was a political commitment to eventual membership given at the Bucharest Summit in April 2008, a subsequent Russian military attack on the country in August the same year, and a careful backtracking on the membership promise on the part of NATO in the aftermath. Although the wording on potential Georgian membership is retained in documents, as we shall see, there is no political will to continue with this process on the part of NATO today. While the US is in favor, most European states are opposed. The same is true in the EU. Turkey is a candidate country and, although negotiations continue, it is clear that the issue of membership is a political one at the highest international level, and two EU states, France and Austria, have already voiced negative views on Turkish membership. Thus, great power politics and security balancing override internal reform processes, which of course always remains the only one voiced by the official political process. The official process does not speak about power balancing or spheres of geo-political interest, but only of creating democratic peace through the dissemination of liberaldemocratic norms. But H1 trumps H2 in the cases where other states see themselves as affected, in this case Russia. This very important factor naturally makes up the most important ‘effect’ factor when discussing the power of partnerships and memberships.



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Partnerships to the east and south: Effects for NATO The EU and NATO extended membership to approximately the same states in the post-1990 period: All the Central-European states are members of both organizations today, and there is a process toward eventual membership of the Balkan states. The initial debates about enlargement were tough and quite conscious of a ‘Realpolitik’ logic, as Solomon’s study shows (Solomon, 1998). NATO extended membership to the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland in 1999, and to seven new members in 2004 – the Baltic states, Slovakia, Slovenia, Rumania, and Bulgaria. In 2009 Croatia and Albania were admitted, and Macedonia was told that it may join NATO as soon as it has resolved the name question with Greece. The EU extended membership to all ten East-Central Europeans in 2004 with Bulgaria and Rumania joining in 2007, while negotiations with candidate countries Croatia, Albania, and Macedonia are far advanced. It was expected that Croatia could join in 2009, but this has not happened yet. Yet the pattern is similar in both organizations: Membership of the East-Central European states was accomplished by mid-2000; the Balkan states are in a process toward membership and in state of partnership for the most part, whereas the connection between partnership and membership in the CIS-area is much less clear. With regard to NATO, Montenegro has achieved MAP-status while Bosnia and Serbia are in the IPAP. Georgia and the Ukraine have a special set-up, so-called Georgia-NATO and Ukraine-NATO commissions. The Georgia-NATO Commission was set up after the Russian attack on Georgia in August 2008, on 15 September the same year, and ‘expresses grave concern over the military conflict in Georgia, its genesis, and Russia’s actions’ (NATO 2008a). It also reaffirms that Georgia may become a NATO member. NATO has also extended partnerships to Central Asia and the other states in South Caucasus. All the five ‘stans’ are partners: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. They have been members of PfP since 1994, with the exception of Tajikistan, who joined only in 2002. A NATO special representative for these partnerships, Robert Simmons, was appointed in 2004. Each state’s cooperation with NATO differs, as it is the states themselves that


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select projects they want to participate in. Kazakhstan has a wide array of partnership projects, and agreed on an Individual Partner Action Plan (IPAP)8 in 2006. The other three states have less cooperation, but all five have assisted in the ongoing ISAF-operation. A number of projects on security sector reform, disaster relief, modernization of the armed forces, and so on have been carried out (See NATO, 2009, for details). All these states retain their major security orientation toward Russia, despite NATO partnerships. In the case of the one state with IPAP in this group, Kazakhstan, a study concludes that despite all Western military aid and cooperation, ‘it merely scrathes the surfaces when considered in the context of Kazakhstan’s innately Russian leanings and security dependency’ (McDermott, 2008, p. 640). Looking at partners in South Caucasus, we find three states: Armenia, Azerbadijan, and Georgia. They joined NACC in 1992 and PFP in 1994, and soon thereafter started planning and review processes with NATO. In 1999, Azerbadijan and Georgia contributed forces to KFOR, and in 2002 Azerbadijan contributed forces to ISAF. There have also been also joint exercises in Georgia (‘Cooperative Partner 2001’ and ‘Cooperative Best Effort 2002’) and in Armenia (‘Cooperative Best Effort 2003’). At the Istanbul summit in 2004 there was special emphasis placed on Central Asia and the Caucasus, and in the same year Georgia finalized the IPAP, Armenia contributed some troops to KFOR, and ISAF was allowed use Georgian territory for transit. In 2005, Armenia and Azerbadijan finalized their IPAPs, and all three states opened information centres on NATO in collaboration with the latter’s Public Policy Division. There is also the same special representative for this region as for Central Asia (NATO, 2007a). But, as Moore points out, there is limited cooperation between NATO and these states, and such as there is mainly on a bilateral project basis between some states in NATO and the partner (Moore, 2010, p. 100). In 2006 NATO opened the so-called ‘Intensified Dialogue’ with Georgia, and in 2007 the country hosted a joint air exercise, ‘Cooperative Archer 2007.’ In April 2008, at the Bucharest Summit, Georgia was promised MAP status and the issue of membership was discussed. In August 2008 Russia intervened militarily in Georgia. In mid-September the same year a NATO–Georgia Commission was established at a meeting in Tbiblisi (NATO, 2008a). Georgia has



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offered 1000 troops to ISAF, but on the issue of membership NATO remains deeply divided. France and Germany are opposed, the US is in favor. The official description of Georgia’s relationship with NATO states that ‘NATO and Georgia actively cooperate on democratic, institutional, and defence reforms, with the aim of preparing Georgia for eventual membership in the alliance, as agreed by Allied leaders in Bucharest in April 2008’ (NATO, 2010a). At that summit, Georgia has achieved a very clear commitment to membership, in a language that left nothing ambiguous. It bears quoting in full: NATO welcomes Ukraine’s and Georgia’s Euro-Atlantic aspirations for membership in NATO. We agreed today that these countries will become members of NATO. Both nations have made valuable contributions to Alliance operations [ . . . ]. MAP is the next step for Ukraine and Georgia on their direct way to membership. Today we make clear that we support these countries’ applications for MAP. Therefore we will now begin a period of intensive engagement with both at a high political level to address the questions still outstanding pertaining to their MAP applications. We have asked our Foreign Ministers to make a first assessment at their December 2008 meeting. Foreign ministers have the authority to decide on the MAP applications for Georgia and the Ukraine. (NATO, 2008b, Paragraph 25) This is very different diplomatic language from the normal cautioned approach to partnership and membership. Here there is no stress on conditionality. On the contrary, the issue of membership has been decided already, regardless of the developments in these two states. Not only are the heads of state decided on the speedy granting of the MAP, as stated, mandating the foreign ministers to speed ahead on this, but the heads of state declare that both states will become NATO members. The language of the whole paragraph is unusually strong in terms of diplomatic discourse. One gets the clear impression that membership will be rushed for both states, not depending in any way on their domestic development, and that nothing will stop NATO from pushing ahead here. In light of this, the fact that there was a Russian reaction is not surprising. There was evidently a strong wish on NATO’s part


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to underline that Russia would not be able to dictate the alliance regarding membership for these two states. Yet this is exactly what happened when Russia attacked Georgia some months later, under the pretext of aiding Russian nationals in breakaway republics South Ossietia and Abkhazia. President Shakasvilii made a major mistake when he let Georgian forces intervene against separatists in South Ossietia, seizing Tskhinkvali. This resulted in a major Russian response, the first use of force in a foreign state since the invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 (Giragosian, 2008). The NATO reaction was slow and weak. Instead of an official response from NATO, the EU High Representative at the time, Javier Solana, travelled to Tbiblisi. There were reactions from individual states, but NATO did not address the situation at first. Later on it resorted to the process of MAP with Georgia, but there was no further talk of membership. The attack and disproportionate use of force was condemned, and the plan for Georgian membership reiterated: ‘At an emergency meeting of the NAC on 19 August 2008, Allied foreign ministers called for a peaceful and lasting solution to the conflict based on Georgia’s independence, sovereignty, and territorial integrity’ (NATO, 2008a). At this time the MAP was dropped and the NATO–Georgia Commission created instead. The ‘Realpolitik’ of the Russian reaction was clear, and NATO looked the other way and did not respond. The Georgian case illustrates the difference between H1 and H2: NATO was unprepared for Russian action based on ‘Realpolitik,’ and had no real response to this. As regards the Ukraine, there has been a special NATO–Ukraine Commission since 1997, when the heads of state signed a Charter of Distinctive Partnership. In 2000, the Status of Forces Agreement was signed (SOFA), and in 2002 then-President Kuchma announced Ukraine’s intention of membership in NATO. There has been an action plan from that time onward, and the Ukraine contributes to various NATO operations. After the Orange Revolution there was intensified cooperation toward the goal of a MAP, while the thenPrime Minister Janukovich tried to slow the process, announcing in 2006 that the people were not ready to consider NATO membership (NATO, 2007b). When he was elected President in 2010, he reiterated this, opting for continued partnership, but making it clear that membership was not on the agenda.9 On 27 April 2010, there was a major uprising in parliament during the decision on the renewal of the



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Russian right to use the Sevastopol naval base, which involved physical fighting among the politicians (Aftenposten 2010). This shows the deep divisions within the Ukraine regarding the security orientation toward Russia. What can we conclude about effects for NATO of these partnerships? First, the effects are not very major ones. There is improvement in terms of military modernization and political values, we may assume, as a result of the various projects between NATO-states and these partners, but several of them retain their allegiance in security policy to Russia. With regard to the Georgian case, the effect for NATO is extremely negative: the process of Georgian membership has been halted by the Russian intervention. This has implications for the balance of power and the deterrent effect of NATO. The question that remains unanswered is this: Will NATO dare to admit Georgia?

The nuts and bolts of partnerships Let us now look at some partnerships in more detail in order to see if there are effects that are of interest. Starting with the Balkan partners, it makes sense to look at the partnership with Bosnia–Herzegovina (B&H) because this is the country where NATO was engaged in military operations in 1994–95. The fact that the country today is a NATO partner testifies to the important development that has taken place in Europe in the last few years. B&H is a relatively new PfP partner, joining in 2006. From 2008 the country has been ‘engaged in an Intensified Dialogue with NATO in its membership aspirations since April 2008’ (NATO, 2010b). This is a partner that works toward membership. The NAC also agrees; it decided that the country would get a MAP (Membership Action Plan) in 2009, however, ‘the extent of cooperation ultimately depends on the country’s willingness to continue its democratic, institutional, and defense reform process. The country is also expected to cooperate fully with the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia’ (NATO, 2010b). Thus, membership depends on conditionality, and NATO has a lever to apply. The language from the NAC is much more reserved than in the Georgian case and explicitly states conditions for membership. The actual cooperation consists of the standard themes for partnerships. Internal reform in the country and preparedness for interoperability with NATO members in international operations.


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As of 2009, B&H deploys some few officers in ISAF, as part of the Danish and German contingents, after having signed the SOFA (Status of Forces Agreement) and provided overflight rights to NATO as well as the use of Mostar, Banja Luka, and Tuzla as reserve airports. There is also military capability in the field of UXO and demining. Although not a NATO operation, in Iraq B&H deployed both such a team and an infantry platoon. In sum, there is a modest beginning in military contributions to international operations. In terms of domestic defense reform, the three ethnically based entities of the federation have now been consolidated into one defense structure. In the army, the former enemies Bosniacs, Croats, and Serbs have now been integrated into one structure, under a single command. This is no small accomplishment, and is one that can be attributed to NATO. Yet NATO has had the power to enforce military change in B&H since the Dayton Agreement was signed in 1995. This enforcement role has gradually become one of cooperation for modernization, headed by NATO’s military headquarter’s in Sarajevo. This case is a unique one in the class of partnerships. From a situation of full-scale civil war in the period 1991–95, B&H has been under total NATO domination militarily until 2002, when the EU took over the military operation, while NATO continued to work in the country along the stages of partnership: IPP from 2006, PARP from 2007, IPAP from 2008, and MAP promise as soon as feasible, with membership also a promise, given enough progress. In this case we see rapid, concerted action on the part of NATO, transforming a wartorn country toward a democratic state with a modern armed force as soon as possible. Furthermore, the cooperation on war criminals has by now become satisfactory, thanks mainly to American pressure that brought both Milosevic and other criminals to the Hague. The arrest of Radovan Karadži´c also testifies to this. Thus, the goal of membership is not only desired by both NATO and B&H, but is also possible as soon as reforms are implemented. The ‘democratic peace’ theory appears to be very applicable in this case: A backlash in the country is a risk as long as it is not firmly embedded in Western liberal structures. Partnership in this case is a practical vehicle for bringing the country to a stage of military and democratic development which is sufficient for granting membership. NATO’s interest is in stable, democratic government in the



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Balkans, and membership is the way to ensure this. H2 applies in this case. Azerbadijan and Armenia: Let us now take a look at two of the partnerships in Southern Caucasus, the foes Azerbadijan and Armenia. Azerbadijan joined NACC in 1992, PfP in 1994, at its founding, and IPAP in 2005. Neither Azerbadijan nor Armenia seeks NATO membership, and this is stated clearly in the NATO presentation of Armenia, which is a country that traditionally seeks close security cooperation with Russia. Azerbadijan contributes to international operations: it sent a unit to KFOR in 1999 and participates with approximately 45 officers in ISAF. The security cooperation with NATO ranges from conversion of a dangerous rocket fuel oxidizer into fertilizer, reform of the armed forces and learning how to develop civilian control of the military, improving military education, and so on. About 30 cooperative projects have been funded by NATO states (NATO, 2010c). In this case, there are advantages for Azerbadijan in terms of concrete projects, and some advantage for NATO in terms of military contributions to ongoing operations. However, the latter is negligible. For NATO, the political effect of contributing to change in a democratic direction must be said to be the important one. Small democratic developments under the tutelage of the Council of Europe, NATO, the EU, and the OSCE all work in the same direction. Yet Azerbadijan retains the power to control the process; as it does not seek membership, NATO has no leverage over it. H2 would seem to apply also here: the gradual democratization and learning process of liberal norms create the conditions for peace. We should also note that the long-standing conflict between Armenia and Azerbadijan over Nagorna-Karabakh is entirely outside NATO influence. It is officially handled by the OSCE, but there has been no progress on this issue for many years despite the willingness of the OSCE to present land-swop proposals that could make up a sensible solution. The fact that Azerbadijan has refused this indicates that it is not very interested in terminating the conflict. This in turn indicates that the country prefers to decide on security and defense issues alone, and hence has no interest in a larger role for NATO in Azerbadijan. What about the partnership with Armenia? This country was in PfP from the beginning, joined PARP in 2002, and IPAP in 2005.


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Armenia contributed to KFOR from 2003 onward with approximately 85 officers. There is discussion about an ISAF contribution. In the Armenian case, the official description of the partnership states that membership is not the goal (NATO, 2010d). A key priority is to ensure democratic control of the armed forces. A number of projects dealing with modernization and civilian control of the armed forces have been started. These are clearly in Armenia’s political and military interests, and they are certainly in the interest of NATO in a general political sense. H2 seems to apply in this case as well. The NATO impact does not extend to major geo-political security policy through these projects, but NATO can effect piecemeal change in the country. Summing up, we see that NATO has a partnership as preparation for membership policy for the Balkan states, but one that only aims at domestic reform for several of the Caucasian and Central Asian republics. NATO can influence the states that seek membership much more than those that only want partnership. The political dynamic of this relationship is discussed below. Further, we have seen that NATO had a very active and determined policy toward offering membership to Georgia and the Ukraine. In the former case, all serious talk of membership was gone after the Russian intervention in the country in August 2008, and in the Ukrainian case the new political leadership does not want membership.

Conclusions Which utility for NATO from these partners? So far it seems that NATO can influence domestically with good results in terms of reform, modernization, and control of the armed forces. These are the goals of partnership stated in the official booklet on partnership (NATO, 2005). But beyond this kind of influence it is very clear that NATO has a major impact both geo-politically and as a lever on domestic affairs if a partner country also seeks membership. If H2 applies, that is, that NATO seeks to influence the domestic situation in order to help a state and to make it democratic, thereby ensuring security; there is also scope for H1 in the cases of Georgia and the Ukraine. The eagerness on the part of NATO for underlining that these states were to be admitted indicates that H1 was in play, and, as we have witnessed, it was certainly perceived in this way by Russia. However, the surprise with which NATO met the



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Russian attack shows that H1 must have been strangely absent from the deliberations of the NAC. First, there seems to be little degree of strategic thinking behind NATO’s partnership policy. There is no evidence of a policy that sees partnership and membership in connection, and NATO headquarter’s does not exercise leverage over partners as a conscious strategy, even if they are in a partnership where membership is desired as the outcome. There is no one actor in NATO that can conduct policy actively akin to the European Commission. Rather, partner states design their own partnership agenda by selecting which project they wish to participate in. There does not seem to be any strategy behind these partnerships apart from the hope that H2 may work. Second, there is no indication that NATO has thought in H1 terms about membership and partnership. The continuous extension of partnership and membership to all interested states in the Central Europe and to the Balkans, but also to the Ukraine and Georgia, has continued without discussions about Article 5 obligations and the risk involved in extending this guarantee to new states without much stability, situated near or next to Russia, and without much modern military capacity. The only strategy that seems to have played some part is the hypothesis of the ‘democratic peace.’ Third, partnership policy has not been driven by considerations of which military and/or political effects these partnerships would bring to NATO or of how they fit in with the policy of other IOs, like the EU. There has been and is minimal contact between these two IOs. On the contrary, interested states have simply asked for partnerships, and these have been granted in all cases. The guiding star of membership and partnership policy appears to have been the general idea of extending the values of democracy, as Gheciu also finds (Gheciu, 2009). Only with the return of Russian strength and ‘Realpolitik’ did NATO have to reconsider this policy. Fourth, the military utility to NATO is primarily related to the ISAF operation: It has been helped by bases in some of these states, like the ones at Manas airport in Bishkek, in Dushanbe, and Termez. In addition, these states have granted overflight rights. Kasakhstan is also assisting a PRT in Afghanistan. The political legitimacy of large coalitions behind multinational operations is more important to NATO than these military contributions. Fifth, on the political side, NATO also benefits from these partnerships in terms of extending its influence through values and concrete


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projects. The multilateral meeting structure is important, 28 NATO states meet the 26 partners at ambassadorial level each month in Brussels in the EAPC, annually at ministerial and chief of defense levels. The five ‘stans’ all have ambassadors to NATO, and three of them are represented in the partnership ‘cell’ in SHAPE. The H2 of ‘democratic peace’ fares badly when it comes to the ‘stans,’ as Rebecca Moore points out (Moore, 2010, p. 98). There are very considerable democratic problems in all these states, as also evidenced by the coup d’état in Kyrgyzstan in 2010. NATO has needed and still needs bases and overflight rights from these states in connection with ISAF, and derives military utility from this. Moore cites both lack of democracy and Russian reactions as reasons for NATO’s careful approach to these states (Moore, 2010, p. 98). It seems clear that there is no NATO strategy toward membership in these cases, as several of these states are strongly oriented toward Russia. There have been several problems relating to the air base Manas in Kyrgyzstan, probably a reflection of tug-of-war between pro-NATO and pro-Russian domestic actors. Of these states, the cooperation with Kazakhstan is the most developed, and it is developing interoperability with NATO where securing energy interest has been of particular importance to the US (McDermott, 2008). In conclusion, in ‘good weather’ politics NATO benefits from the dissemination of democratic values and know-how about military reform in the partner states. In the long run, such effects may amount to a major geo-political effect in terms of the ‘democratic peace.’ Partnerships that are planned to lead to membership allow NATO much more leverage over the partner state than in a mere partnership relation, but in ‘rough weather,’ the obligation of Article 5 to members may become a major risk and problem. Hence, on the part of NATO, in such cases partnership is preferable to membership. Partnerships are ‘win-win,’ but oftentimes NATO does not win very much.

Notes 1. See NATO’s booklet (NATO, 2005) on partnership policy, ‘NATO: Security Through Partnership.’ (This booklet has evidently not been updated for several years.) 2. The partnership ‘hierarchy’ consists of an IPP (Individuals Partnership Plan), which is where Serbia is at present. Above this is the PARP, the



3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

9.

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Planning and Review Process, which consists of annual reviews of member states’ activity, delivered by the states themselves. Above this is the IPAP, the Individual Membership Action Plan, instituted in 2002, which is where Georgia and Azerbaijan are. At this point we get to the ID-level, Intensified Dialogue, which is the pre-stage to MAP. Only those states that want membership can enter this stage, although the MAP does not lead to membership. Georgia entered the ID in 2005 and was granted MAP in April 2008. Official working on partnerships to the south and east in Europe, 28 September 2009, NATO HQ. Interviews, NATO HQ, 12–13 October, 2009. Interview, NATO official, October, 2009. Interview, NATO official, October 2009. Interview, diplomat from Western partner state, Brussels, October 2009. The IPAP was agreed as a NATO policy in 2004, aimed at creating a focused action plan with advice from NATO. Kyrgyzstan has a low level of cooperation with NATO, but participates in the PfPs Planning and Review Process (PARP) as of 2007. The reader is referred to Tor Bukkvoll’s chapter for further analysis of this case.

Bibliography Aftenposten, 27 April 2010. Barnes, I. and Barnes, P. (2007) ‘Enlargement’, in M. Cini (ed.) European Union Politics (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Barnes, I. and Barnes, P. (2010) ‘Enlargement’, in Cini, M. and Borragan (2010) European Union Politics, 3rd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Baylis, J. and Wirtz, J. (2007) ‘Introduction’, in J. Baylis, J. Wirtz, E. Cohen and C. S. Gray (eds) Strategy in the Contemporary World (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Buzan, B. and Wæver, O. (2004) Regions and Powers: The Structure of International Security (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Collins, A. (ed.) (2007) Security Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Gheciu, A. (2009) NATO in the New Europe: The Politics of International Socialization after the Cold War (Stanford: Stanford University Press). Giragosian, R. (2008) ‘Georgian Planning Leads to Failure’, Asia Times, 21 August 2008. Matlary, J. H. (2002) Intervention for Human Rights in Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). McDermott, R. (2008) ‘US and NATO Military Cooperation with Kazakhstan: The Need for a New Approach’, Journal of Slavic Military Studies, Vol. 21, pp. 615–41. Moore, R. R. (2007) NATO’s New Mission: Projecting Stability in a Post-Cold War World (Westport, CT: Greenwood).


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Moore, R. (2010) ‘NATO’s Partners in Afghanistan: Impact and Purpose’, UNISCI Discussion Papers, No. 22, January, pp. 92–115. NATO (1999) ‘Membership Action Plan’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2005) ‘NATO: Security Through Partnership’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2007a) Partners in Southern Caucasus (NATO: Brussels). NATO (2007b) NATO-Ukraine: A Distinctive Partnership (NATO: Brussels). NATO (2008) ‘NATO-Georgia Commission’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2008b) ‘Bucharest Summit Declaration’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2009) Partners in Central Asia (NATO: Brussels). NATO (2010a) ‘NATO’s Relations with Georgia’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2010b) ‘NATO’s Relation with Bosnia–Herzegovina’, http://www.nato. int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2010c) ‘NATO’s Relations with Azerbadijan’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. NATO (2010d) ‘NATOs Relations with Armenia’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 20 April 2010. Schimmelpfennig, F. and Sedelmeier, U. (2005) The Politics of EU Enlargement: Theoretical Appraoches (London: Routledge). Sedelmeier, U. (2001) ‘The Path to Eastern Enlargement’, paper presented to ISA, Chicago. Solomon, G. B. (1998) The NATO Enlargement Debate, 1990–1997 (Washington: CSIS, The Washington Papers). Østerud, Ø. (2010) Hva er krig (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget).

Interviews I conducted 13 interviews at NATO HQ and in partner and member countries’ embassies in Brussels. The interviewees included: Ambassadors from two NATO member states and from one partner state, two senior diplomats from Nordic missions to NATO, one NATO assistant secretary general, two NATO officials working on public affairs, and five NATO officials working with partnerships on a full-time basis, many of whom had been in these positions since partnership policy begun. The interviewees talked on condition of anonymity. They were interviewed at NATO HQ in late September 2009. My colleague, Magnus Petersson, IFS (Norwegian Institute of Defence Studies) and I are very thankful to Marlene Arboe-Rasmussen, Liason Denmark-Norway in NATO’s Public Diplomacy Division, for setting up these interviews for us. We are naturally also very grateful to all the interviewees.


5 Political and Military Utility of NATO for Ukraine Tor Bukkvoll

Introduction Ukraine has been an active participant in NATO partnership activities almost since the country became independent in 1991. The intensity of Ukraine’s cooperation with NATO increased markedly throughout the 1990s, and even more after Ukraine’s announcement in June 2003 of its ambition for NATO membership. While the motives behind both the partnership and membership policies are numerous and complex, the main argument of this chapter is that Ukraine’s desire to build a strong European identity is the most important. Thus, in terms of the scholarly debate on the sources of states’ foreign policies, this study provides empirical evidence in support of the constructivist claim that states’ identities have significant explanatory power (on this claim, see for example Wendt, 1999, especially pp. 231–3; Katzenstein, 1996, chapters 2, 8, 9, 10 and 11; Ashizawa, 2008, pp. 571–98; Checkel, 1993, pp. 271–300). Parts of the Ukrainian political elite have come to support integration with NATO, both because of a fear of Russia and because they see an eventual Ukrainian NATO membership as a natural part of restoring the country’s European identity. However, despite the June 2003 decision, there is currently no majority for NATO membership either within the population or within the elite. On the question of partnership, on the other hand, there is a majority in favor in both. Only about 20 per cent of the Ukrainian population support NATO membership in most opinion polls (Razumkov Centre). The popular skepticism to membership has made the NATO issue more a bone 83


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of contention within the political elite than it otherwise would have been. Anti-NATO rhetoric and slogans win many votes in eastern and southern Ukraine, and some of the NATO skepticism now voiced by Ukrainian politicians, especially belonging to the eastern and southern elites, is probably at least as much motivated by electoral opportunism as it is by political conviction. There are fewer opinion polls on the popular attitudes toward partnership with NATO. One survey from February 2002 found 33.6 per cent in favor of partnership but not membership, and 20 per cent in support of membership (Kiev International Institute for Sociology). Since it is reasonable to assume that those in favor of membership also support partnership (while waiting for membership), this survey indicates a slight popular majority in favor of partnership at that time. Furthermore, since popular opinions on the NATO issue have tended to be relatively stable since 2002, it seems fair to conclude that roughly half the Ukrainian population support partnership with NATO. In the mentioned opinion poll only 19 per cent explicitly opposed any cooperation with NATO (Kiev International Institute for Sociology). This chapter seeks to identify and explain why, since 1993, Ukraine has sought partnership with NATO. The question is difficult to answer without also discussing the membership issue. Ukraine represents the ‘potential NATO member’ category of countries in this book. As will be clear from the analysis and the conclusion, this is a very fitting label for Ukraine. Still, given that one of the main aims of the book is to bring forward empirical and theoretical insights on ‘partnership with military alliances’ rather than ‘membership in military alliances,’ more focus will be on partnership than membership. Since many more Ukrainians want partnership than membership, there must be other motives for partnership than just seeing it as a preparatory step for membership. Thus, one of the crucial aspects to be explained in this chapter is the motives of those who support partnership but oppose membership. The variety of perspectives on NATO partnership and membership in Ukraine indicate that a unitary actor model would not be the best choice in order to explain policy. Thus, the ‘black box’ will be opened. Motives will be discussed at three levels: the national level (unitary actor, national interests), the sectoral level, and the individual level. At all three levels expectations of utility drive the partnership


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and membership policies. Three types of utility will be discussed: identity-oriented, collective action-oriented, and rationalist. These roughly correspond to three of the main schools of theory within international relations (IR), constructivism, liberalism, and realism. However, because this is not a unitary actor-based analysis, using the more basic human conduct concepts of identity-oriented, collective action-oriented, and rationalist seems more appropriate than using the systemic IR concepts. Identity-oriented utility should be understood as how NATO partnership is seen by Ukrainian politicians as useful for the identity formation of the Ukrainian state and for individual Ukrainian politicians. Collective action utility should be understood as how improved security can be achieved through cooperative rather than unitary action. Rationalist utility should be understood as a selfish search for benefits in terms of material resources, power, and security. Each main type of utility will be discussed on each of the three main levels of explanation. The chapter consists of a short history of Ukrainian NATO relations in addition to three analytical sections and a conclusion. Each of the analytical sections discusses one of the three main types of motivation identified above. The parts that discuss identity-oriented and collective action-oriented types of utility are considerably shorter than the one discussing rationalistic utility. This does not mean they are less relevant or necessarily have weaker explanatory power. Instead they reflect the simple fact that there is less empirical detail to be found about those two types of utility.

History of Ukrainian–NATO relations There are in particular six defining moments in the relationship between Ukraine and NATO: 1. in February 1994 Ukraine became a member of the Partnership for Peace program; 2. in May 1997 NATO opened an information centre in Kiev; 3. in July 1997 a NATO–Ukraine Commission was established; 4. in November 2002 the first NATO–Ukraine action plan was adopted; 5. in June 2003 the Ukrainian parliament adopted, with 319 against three votes, a new law on national security that for the first time stated that the country was striving for full membership in NATO; and 6. in April 2008 Ukraine together with Georgia as denied Membership Action


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Plan (MAP) status at the NATO Bucharest Summit. At this summit, nevertheless, NATO declared that the two countries at some point in the future will become members. Despite this declaration, pro-NATO politicians in Kiev tend to see the April 2008 decision against MAP status as a Western prostration to Russia. The entrance of Ukraine into the Partnership for Peace program in 1994 was largely uncontroversial both in the elite and the population. Russia did not officially object to Ukraine entering this framework, but suspicions already ran high in Moscow that the initiative was little more than a preparation for NATO eastward expansion. Russia herself, after long internal debates, hesitantly joined the program four months after Ukraine. In 1997 discussion was heating up between pro-NATO and antiNATO forces in Ukraine, and also between Ukraine and Russia. Russia protested heavily against NATO’s plans for eastward expansion whereas Ukraine took a neutral position. Although both Russia and Ukraine negotiated agreements with NATO more or less in parallel (in fact, if anything Russia was ahead of Ukraine in formalizing relations with NATO), the two countries did this for very different reasons. Russia wanted to influence NATO. Ukraine wanted to be influenced by and, potentially in the longer run, protected by NATO. Additionally, Ukraine wanted its own agreement with NATO because the country feared that the Russia–NATO agreement would divide Europe into spheres of influence. President Kuchma made this worry explicitly clear during a trip to Washington in May 1997. Russia has since harbored few illusions about what it sees as ‘the true intentions’ behind Ukraine’s NATO policy. Anxiety about possible Ukrainian NATO membership has been a constant in Russian Ukraine policy ever since, and especially after the 2004 Orange Revolution. The main Russian reading of much of Ukrainian NATO policy is that some Western countries in an unholy alliance with a small nationalist segment of the Ukrainian elite are trying to pull Ukraine into NATO against the wishes of the vast majority of the Ukrainian people. In parallel with striving for membership, Ukraine has cooperated with NATO in international operations (Iraq), involved NATO heavily in the domestic defense reform, and at least partly supported NATO on controversial international issues. The partnership policy is likely


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to continue even if the membership issue now temporarily is put on ice. For example, in January 2010 it was announced that Ukraine and Finland, as the only non-NATO countries, have declared their willingness to commit forces to NATO Rapid Reaction Forces for the 2015–16 period (Ukrayinska Pravda, 2010b). In the Ukrainian political elite there are today three broad strands of thought with regard to NATO, each of them connected to one of the three main political forces in the country. The pro-NATO camp, connected first of all to the now disintegrating political block Our Ukraine, wants membership as soon as possible. Our Ukraine’s disintegration does not mean that this strand of thought will disappear. There will continue to be a significant part of the Ukrainian political elite, pro-Western, mostly with a political background from western and central Ukraine, who will continue to argue forcefully for NATO membership. The second strand of thought, the wait-and-see camp, is for membership in principle but would like to postpone the issue because of the divisive effect it has on the Ukrainian population. This strand of thought is first of all represented by former Prime Minister Yulia Timoshenko and her Biut political block. According to the Biut program, they understand ‘the benefits of Euro-Atlantic integration and that no country can confront new challenges alone. However, the reality is that the issue of NATO membership is not an immediate priority for the majority of the people.’ Thus, Biut concludes that ‘Accession of Ukraine to NATO cannot happen before the majority of Ukrainians understand all the benefits of membership in comparison with non-alliance status or accession to the Tashkent Pact’ (The Basis of Byut Foreign Policy, 2009). The third strand of thought, the anti-NATO camp, argues for Ukrainian neutrality, and is connected first of all to the Party of Regions and to the Ukrainian left (the Communist Party, Socialist Party, and Progressive Socialist Party). It should be noted here that a majority of the representatives from the Party of Regions voted in favor of the June 2003 amendments to the law on national defense that proclaimed membership a goal. According to the Ukrainian weekly Zerkalo Nedely, when asked about the discrepancy between their voting in 2003 and their later opposition to membership they say with a smile that ‘at that time nobody took the issue seriously because nobody believed in the possibility of Ukrainian NATO membership’ (Silina, 2006).


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This statement suggests that Party of Regions opposition to membership is not necessarily deeply rooted in ideology. Rather, it seems to be an issue of little importance to many of these politicians, and thus something that can easily be changed based on which stance is likely to give the most benefit in terms of electoral support and political power. The no-membership stance is clearly stated in the party program, but it is interesting to note that the wording in the program is that the party ‘at the present stage’ considers a nonaligned status to be the best (Party Program, Section VI). Thus, there is a small opening for the possibility that this could change in the future. While the views on membership, as demonstrated above, are very different, the views on partnership are not. Except from some marginal politicians on the Ukrainian left, all major political forces in Ukraine support partnership with NATO. There are occasional disagreements about the content of the partnership, and how far it should go, but the fact of its existence, as will be explained in greater detail later, enjoys very broad support. One other point of importance for this analysis needs to be mentioned as well. Defense and security policy is not high on most Ukrainian politicians’ agenda. For most of them, even though they might declare otherwise, this is a very secondary issue area. One of the most important causes, among several reasons for the low political interest in defense policy, is probably the fact that the military is of little relevance in the domestic power struggle. The security services on the other hand, because they have a more direct role to play here, are much more on the political agenda and also significantly better funded. Ukraine is, together with Kazakhstan, one of the countries in the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) that spend the lowest proportion of its GDP on defense (Bukkvoll and Koren, 2007, p. 17). This lack of political attention has two consequences in particular. First, defense and security matters, if they are suitable, often become tools in political struggles about domestic affairs. Second, the Ukrainian military is underfunded but also given great autonomy to decide its own development. In relation to the partnership with NATO this means that aspects of the partnership are sometimes disturbed because they are used in political struggles. For example, several naval exercises in the Black Sea have been cancelled because


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the Ukrainian parliament, the Rada, has not ratified the foreign troops’ right to training on Ukrainian soil. There are good reasons to believe that these non-ratifications had more to do with the political infighting among different political forces than they had to do with principled political opposition against foreign troops. On the other hand, the secondary status of defense policy means that much of the partnership remains below the political horizon. This gives the Ukrainian military a relatively free hand to form and give content to the partnership.

Identity-Oriented utility Ukraine was a partner to NATO for eight years before declaring its intention to become a member. The partnership was perhaps especially important in the first years after independence, because it was seen domestically as a symbolic recognition of Ukraine’s Europeanness. Both partnership and membership in NATO are often motivated by reference to civilization identity. Former Defense Minister Yurii Yekhanurov called Ukraine’s close relations with NATO a ‘civilizational choice’ (Yekhanurov, 2008, p. 46), and another previous Defense Minister, Anatolii Hrytsenko, has even gone as far as to state that ‘if the aim was only military security guarantees it would not matter whether we chose NATO or The Tashkent Treaty, but if we take defence of individual humans as our point of departure, then there is no question that we need to go to Europe,’ by which he meant the EU and NATO (Vedernikova, 2009). On the desirability of partnership with NATO, Biut and Our Ukraine are, as expected, very positive in what they write in their programs, but even the main antagonist of membership, the Party of Regions, is positive on the partnership issue. According to their program, ‘Ukraine is currently developing a comprehensive cooperation with NATO both in this organization’s capacity as a political and as a military block. This cooperation is taking place in full accordance with Ukraine’s national interests, and in agreement with the norms of international law laid down in the statutes of the UN and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe’ (Party Program, Section VI). In early 2010, party leader, and now President, Viktor Yanukovych, reaffirmed his support for partnership with NATO. However, at the same time he also stated that the present


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level of partnership is sufficient, that is there was no need to expand it further (Ukrayinska Pravda, 2010a). On the national level, the main political forces in Ukraine all stress the cultural/civilizational belonging of Ukraine to Europe. The Party of Regions, Biut, and Our Ukraine all have Ukrainian membership in the European Union as their goal. The pro-European positions of Biut and Our Ukraine are no surprise, but the strongly pro-European language in the program of the Party of Regions is notable: Ukraine is a European democratic country which bases its development and actions on contemporary European values. [ . . . ] Ukraine never was, and neither is the country today, just a ‘new neighbour’ to the European Union. Our country is an inseparable part of European history and culture, and a strategic member of the European system of security on its eastern flank. (Party Program, Section VI) For a party that is often portrayed as pro-Russian, and that, at least in times of elections, does nothing to discourage this impression, the European emphasis in the party program is striking. In the runup to the 2010 presidential elections, the Party of Regions actively tried to portray itself as the Ukrainian partner of Russia’s dominant United Russia party. The ways in which these two parties see their respective countries in relation to cultural/civilizational belonging is, nevertheless, markedly different. In United Russia’s program there is no mention of Europe or European values. On the contrary, in that party’s program Russia is said to be a country with a unique and ‘non-repeatable’ (nepovtorimyi) cultural-historical inheritance, and the party sees as one of its main priorities to ‘repel attempts to force alien values upon Russia’ (Rossia). United Russia’s position here is strongly supported by Russian popular opinion. When asked by the Levada centre in 2008, ‘Would you like to live in a country that actively defends its culture and traditions or a country open to the whole world and all modern trends?,’ only 18 per cent of the respondents preferred the second option, whereas 77 per cent preferred the defense of culture and traditions option (Sedov, 2009). It should be stressed here that the above analysis is based on the Ukrainian parties’ programs, rather than on any investigation of what policy moves they have made. It is a well-known fact that politicians


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representing these forces in daily politics do things that far from promote the European course. They easily diverge from the European course to pursue more parochial ends. It is essential to keep in mind that the social basis for most Ukrainian political parties is made up of business clans and not broader sections of society. Nevertheless, the party programs do indicate what the dominant discourse is on these issues within the political forces. Sectoral and individual levels The two most important sectoral actors in Ukraine that have substantial stakes in the issues of partnership and membership with NATO are the Ukrainian military and the Ukrainian military industry. One could easily imagine these two sectors as lobbyists for both Ukrainian partnership with and membership in NATO. Potential rationalist utility for such lobbyism will be discussed later, but identity-oriented utility is also possible to imagine. For example, both sectors could have been motivated by a desire to see themselves as being parts of the European military establishments and European/Western arms industries respectively in the future. Many individuals from both these camps no doubt also do that. For example, in 2005 the then Deputy Head of the General Staff, General Hryhorii Sakovskyi, concluded in an essay that the main goal for defense reform in Ukraine should be to make the country able to ‘on equal terms take a seat in the great family of European nations’ (Sakovskyi, 2005, p. 23). Still, as will be detailed later, neither of these sectoral actors have become strong pro-NATO lobbyists. There is probably more of a case for arguing that ideational factors have explanatory power on the drive for NATO integration on the individual rather than on the sectoral level. In the 1990s, especially, partnership with NATO opened up an opportunity that would otherwise not be there for top rank Ukrainian politicians to act on the international arena and to feel internationally important and as if they were members of a prestigious club. This is not to suggest that their only motivation for integration with NATO was to individually bask in the sun of international attention. Most likely, they were also motivated by the opportunity to influence NATO–Ukraine relations. Still, the attraction to Ukrainian politicians of being seen as one among equals with European and Western leaders should not be underestimated as an explanation for the Ukrainian partnership


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policy. One should keep in mind that the elites in the non-Russian republics prior to the fall of the Soviet Union were only ‘local dignitaries’ that after the dissolution suddenly found themselves in charge of independent states. They had had almost no time to establish their identities as statesmen, and therefore eagerly embraced most opportunities that presented themselves. In addition, when these leaders travelled to Moscow, they often found that they were still treated as the provincial satraps they had been instead of the leaders of independent states that they now were. In the West, on the other hand, they often felt they were being treated in the way they were entitled to. Thus, there was little question where it was best to go in order to feel respected and statesman-like. The argument about individual identity-oriented reasons for promoting partnership with NATO is admittedly more difficult to substantiate empirically than some of the other claims for explanatory power in this chapter. However, there is at least one incident that clearly seems to support the claim. In November 2002, Ukrainian President Leonid Kuchma was not invited to the NATO summit in Prague, although he had been invited many times before and had expected to be invited this time, too. The reason for his noninvitation was that Kuchma, according to US sources, personally had cleared a sale of Kolchuga radar systems to Iraq. Still, Kuchma so wanted to be present at the summit that he decided to show up uninvited, thus creating a minor diplomatic scandal. The exact reasoning behind this move is, of course, known only to Kuchma himself, but it is still evidence of how important participation at such venues has been and probably continues to be for Ukrainian political leaders.

Collective action utility Collective action utility should here be understood as cooperative activities aimed at increasing security for all. In the case of Ukraine, it is fruitful to distinguish between the global and the regional contexts. In the global context, Ukraine has, in partnership with NATO and other international organizations, taken part in a number of international peace operations. According to the Ukrainian Ministry of Defense, Ukraine was for several years the largest European contributor of troops to UN peace operations (The History of the Armed Forces, and Woronowycz, 2001). Forces have been sent on


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missions to numerous places: Congo (UN), Ethiopia and Eritrea (UN), Kosovo (UN and KFOR), Moldova (common peacekeeping forces in Pridnestrovia), Georgia (UN), Lebanon (UN), Liberia (UN), Sudan (UN), and Iraq (Woronowycz, 2003; Chernyshov et al., 2007). All in all since 1992, a total of 34,000 Ukrainian troops have taken part in various international missions, and 47 soldiers have been killed (The History of the Armed Forces . . . ). According to the State Program for development of Ukraine’s armed forces for the period 2006–11, Ukraine can at any time participate in 4–5 peace operations with one tactical battalion group in each, or alternatively in 1–2 missions with one tactical brigade group in each (Tsymbaliuk, 2006). The economic burden of this activity is further evidence of the Ukrainian elite’s commitment to international collective action. The US for a period covered some of the Ukrainian forces’ expenses in Kosovo, but in May 2005 the Ukrainian political leadership decided to cover all costs (US $3.2 million annually) themselves. Major General Sergei Bezlushchenko, head of the administration of Ukraine’s peace operations, argued that Ukraine should stay on in Kosovo at its own expense because of the ‘state’s prestige, the experience gained from peacekeeping operations and the consequent training of personnel’ (Tsymbaliuk, 2006). The Ukrainian strategy for peace operations, adopted by presidential decree on 15 June 2009, reads as follows: In acknowledgement of its responsibility to support international peace and security, and in recognition of the country’s commitments as a member of the United Nations and the OSCE [ . . . ] Ukraine considers participation in international peace operations as an important element of its foreign policy. (‘Pro stratehiiu mizhnarodnoyi diialnosti Ukrayiny’) Similar quotes can probably be found in the official documents of most NATO member and partner countries. It is inevitably the politically correct thing to say, and as such can hardly be taken as evidence of a dominant collective action utility. In general, both the presence and absence of collective action utility can be hard to substantiate by evidence. It might be that the only case in which one, with some degree of certainty, could say that such motives were dominant, would be if there were no apparent unitary


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benefits to gain, neither rationalist nor identity-oriented on any of the three levels of analysis. In short, if no other plausible explanation could be found, that would leave a genuine desire to make a contribution to global security as the only option. Since the absence of such rationalist and identity-oriented utility is not the case here, a genuine desire to participate in collective action on the global scale in order improve international peace and security will be hard both to corroborate and refute by evidence. Moreover, it should be noted that Ukraine is a country that still sees itself as in the process of recovering from 80 years of Communist rule, and it is located in a very uncertain and unstable part of the world. This means that Ukrainian politicians, although they often will not say so, are likely to think that because they do not yet have the economic and political abilities of Western democracies, less can reasonably be expected of them in terms of efforts ‘to save the world.’ Internationally, Ukrainian politicians still probably see the country more on the receiver than the donor side. In the regional context, the main collective action argument would be that NATO’s eastward expansion through partnership and membership broadens a ‘zone of democracy, peace and stability,’ thus increasing security for all. Despite the sometimes high-flown language in which this claim is made, it might actually be part of the explanation for why Ukraine wants partnership with, and possible membership in, NATO. One example here could be Polish–Ukrainian relations. These demonstrated a significant potential for conflict in the early 1990s, mostly for historical resons. Later, on the other hand, relations greatly improved, and Polish prospects for and finally fulfillment of NATO membership seem to have played an important part in that positive change of atmosphere (Spero, 2002, pp. 155–77). One could, of course, argue that this would have taken place irrespective of Ukraine’s partnership with NATO, and thus that it cannot be used as an example of how Ukraine has been motivated to seek partnership out of a desire to promote regional security through collective action. However, it is likely that the presence of NATO partnership fora as venues for dialogue and promoters of common values has helped in cementing and further improving the good relationship between Poland and Ukraine. On the other hand, Ukrainian observers see few of the same effects in the relations with another


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NATO member, Romania. Some Ukrainian observers even think that NATO membership made Bucharest feel it had an even freer hand in putting pressure on Ukraine in bilateral territorial conflicts (Kulyk, 2009). Thus, the Ukrainian experience is mixed in terms of how collective action through NATO partnership might improve regional security. The collective action motivation is probably also connected to the identity motivation. If reference to collective action, both within NATO and in the wider world, is an important discourse in NATO, then participation in this discourse as well as action to back it up both become necessary in order to promote the European identity of Ukraine. Consider the following statement by General Mykola Tsitsiurskii, first Deputy Head of the Ukrainian General Staff: Taking into account the future membership prospects, the Ukrainian armed forces must [ . . . ] become able to offer a significant contribution to NATO capabilities. Their restructuring must therefore give priority to the type of capabilities that are most needed in NATO and that Ukraine has special abilities to provide. (Tsytsiurskii, 2008, p. 63) General Tsitsiurskii here goes notably far in his willingness to structure the Ukrainian armed forces for collective action rather than for the unitary action of preparing for Ukraine’s territorial defense.

Rationalist utility On the national level, the 2003 declaration of membership as the ultimate goal is relatively easy to explain from a rationalist perspective. It is a classic case of balance-of-power politics vis-à-vis Russia. Membership would provide Ukraine with Article 5 guarantees. These would not only give Ukraine access to foreign military assistance in case of a conflict with Russia, but more importantly make Russia more careful in its policy toward Ukraine in peacetime. Given the differences in size between the two countries’ military capabilities, many in Ukraine doubt that the country by its own efforts will ever be able to afford a sufficient deterrence against Russia. And even if that should be possible, it would most likely place an intolerable burden on the


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Ukrainian economy. Thus, NATO membership might be the only economically sustainable way to achieve a satisfactory level of deterrence against Russia. In addition, central promoters of Ukrainian NATO membership also mention the possibility to influence NATO’s Russia policy as an advantage that membership would bring (Horbulin, 2007, p. 9). The politicians Our Ukraine’s and Biut’s support for both partnership and membership can, therefore, in addition to identity-oriented and collective action-oriented utilities, be easily explained by rationalism on the national level. However, the Party of Regions’ support for partnership cannot, since they do not see partnership as a step toward membership. Therefore, for the Party of Regions the explanation of their support for partnership must be sought elsewhere. As already stated, it is likely that for them an identity-oriented utility appears to have been most important on both the national and individual levels, because of their aim to have Ukraine’s European identity confirmed. In addition, the fact that Russia has no principal objections to Ukrainian partnership with NATO is, of course, crucial for this party. They think Russian approval is decisive for Ukrainian national interests, and they, furthermore, see this approval as of vital importance to their own political party. Supporting membership would have put the party’s relations both with the Russian leadership and with large parts of the population of eastern and southern Ukraine, at risk. Furthermore, there is no reason to think that, on the individual level, politicians from the Party of Regions have any less desire to be seen as European statesmen by partaking in NATO partnership activities than politicians from the other two main political camps. Representatives of the Party of Regions have, in a rationalistic manner, also pointed to the possibility of using the partnership as a source for extra funding for the military. In August 2009, Party of Regions representative and Deputy Chairman of the Rada’s (the Ukrainian parliament) Committee for European Integration, Dmitrii Vecherko, gave the following motivation for partnership with NATO: Ukraine may limit itself to cooperation with NATO in order to make some money out of it. Russia is a good example here. This


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country has been able to make about 3.5 to 4 billion USD in profit on the cooperation with NATO, whereas we so far only have been able to get headaches and shit. (Geda, 2009) Thus, simply saving budget money by getting financial assistance can also be one of the rationalistic reasons for wanting partnership with NATO. The Ukrainian military The question here is as follows: Are there sectoral actors in Ukraine that support and promote NATO partnership and/or membership because they expect certain benefits to accrue from these types of association for their own sector? As already identified, the only really relevant such sectoral actors are the Ukrainian military and the Ukrainian military industry. On the question of how and to what extent partnership with NATO has had an impact on the development of the Ukrainian military it is difficult to get a comprehensive overview. Much of the assistance and guidance has come in the form of bilateral agreements between Ukraine and the different NATO countries. Still, it is possible to piece together a reasonably representative picture based on information provided by the Ukrainian MoD website, and by statements from Ukrainian military and other officials. The effects of partnership can in particular be seen in three areas: 1. changes in military mindsets as a result of interaction among Ukrainian and NATO officers and training of Ukrainian officers in NATO countries; 2. changes in military organization; 3. and simply the fact that NATO assistance has made Ukraine financially able to initiate activities it otherwise not would have initiated. Many Ukrainian officers have returned for duty after receiving military education in the West, and observers have commented that Ukrainian military curricula now are ‘increasingly Euro-Atlantic in orientation’ (Sherr, 2002). This means that a new generation of more modern officers is now slowly taking office, including some in high office. Military commentator Valentin Badrak mentions, in particular, Generals Leonid Holopatiuk and Valerii Muntian as representatives of the new ‘Western’ type of officers (Badrak, 2004). Thus, it is likely


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that the partnership with NATO has at least contributed to the creation of a core of officers with a new military mindset. However, this process is probably only in its initial stage. One of the main architects behind Ukrainian defense and security policy since the mid-1990s, Volodymyr Horbulin, admitted in December 2005 that despite progress in reforming the Ukrainian military according to Western standards, ‘the organization is nevertheless internally dominated by a post-Soviet mindset. In content this mindset is much closer to the Russian, or even Soviet mindset than it is to the mindsets of NATO countries’ (Horbulin, 2005, p. 3). As for the Soviet military culture, Anatolii Pavlenko sees some of its most disturbing effects to be the absolute subordination to your immediate superior, the necessity to hide your own point of view, and the tendency to adapt to present conditions rather than to change them (Pavlenko, 2003). All of these cultural norms will be problematic for an organization that needs to change. The dominance of the old mindsets and cultural traits might be eroding slowly, but this depends on the Ukrainian military’s ability to hold on to the new generation of officers, which is already a big problem. Unless modernminded officers become a more numerically significant force, the old Soviet mindset might continue to dominate and even partly renew itself. In terms of organization it can be said that ‘Westernization’ became the buzzword for the direction of military reform. Despite considerable indecisiveness in the general Ukrainian foreign policy orientation, especially under President Leonid Kuchma, ‘Westernization’ remained the model for military reform at both rhetorical and practical levels. Military cooperation with Russia in certain spheres has continued, and is still valued by many Ukrainian officers, but no serious efforts have been made in Ukraine to try to turn military reform in the direction of a Russian blueprint. The two political forces that could potentially have been expected to do so, the Soviet-educated Ukrainian military elite and – at least rhetorically – the pro-Russian eastern Ukrainian political and economic elite, have never tried anything like that. Defense officials from NATO countries working in Ukraine are often frustrated by what they perceive as unwillingness or inability to carry out organizational reform, but Ukrainian officers, on the other


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hand, can often be very optimistic in this respect. Deputy Chief of the General Staff, General Mykola Tsitsiurskii, for example, claims that [T]hanks to the continuous methodological assistance from military professionals from the NATO countries, the leadership of the Ukrainian armed forces has been able forcefully to change the country’s systems of defence planning, military education and force generation. (Tsytsiurskii, 2008, p. 60) When it comes to more direct financial assistance, there is no way to get overall figures on how big this assistance has been and how efficiently the funds have been spent. The Ukrainian MoD’s own website contains much evidence of such assistance, but the bullet points below should still only be seen as examples and not as in any way representing the overall volume of NATO assistance to Ukraine: • Since 1994 more than 200 joint exercises with NATO have taken place with the participation of Ukrainian military personnel under the Partnership for Peace program • Since 1995, more than 20,000 Ukrainian officers have taken part in various seminars, conferences and courses organized by NATO • 400 Ukrainian scientists have taken part in various exchange programs with NATO • Ukraine has received 200 scientific grants from NATO for research to be done in Ukraine • NATO has donated about ¤500,000 to Ukrainian universities for the purchase of computer equipment • In 2007 NATO donated ¤265,000 to a project for the rehabilitation of land for civilian use at closed Ukrainian military bases • In the years 2001–07 about 4000 former Ukrainian officers took courses financed by various NATO countries in order to qualify for civilian jobs, and this cooperation continues (‘Spivrobnitstvo Ukrayiny z Nato’). In addition to these data, it can be added that according to First Deputy Commander of the Ukrainian Navy, Vice-Admiral Viktor


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Maximov, NATO funding for joint naval exercises now has a decisive effect on the training standards of the Ukrainian Navy. There are very few other funds available for the conduct of such exercises (Samus, 2009). One of the main dilemmas in the relationship with NATO as seen by many Ukrainians is this: Should the country, under a presumption of NATO membership at some point in the future, structure and equip its armed forces so as to fit within a military alliance? Or, should it not take this chance, and instead prepare for unitary territorial defense? Many pro-NATO Ukrainian politicians and military officers fear that by choosing the latter course Ukraine might become less attractive to NATO in the sense of having fewer and less adequate military resources to bring into the Alliance, and thus reducing the chances for membership. In many ways, Ukrainian military planning until the 2008 Bucharest Summit was based on an underlying assumption about future NATO membership. But, after Bucharest, and even more after the Russia–Georgian war, there has been a significant reemphasis on deterrence and territorial defense. This has necessarily had to come at the expense of developing capabilities that could fit within NATO structures for missions other places in the world. For example, in January 2009 it was decided to maintain conscription for another five years and halt the reductions in the number of troops. Originally, the plan had been to reduce the number of troops to 143,000 by 2011, but according to the new decision the number in 2011 (and possibly later) was to be 162,000 troops. This meant more money to maintain a larger level of troops and less money to train professional forces that would have been welcome in NATO. Ukrainian experts saw this decision at least as partly resulting from rising skepticism in the presidential administration toward the membership prospects (Kastelli et al., 2006, p. 29; Kucherk, 2009). Military reform in Ukraine was largely haphazard and without direction during the first seven to eight years of independence. Basically, all that happened was that the number of troops fell drastically, mostly due to financial constraints. In the years 1997–2001, on the other hand, a number of important NATO-inspired concepts and documents were adopted. These laid the foundation for more serious and guided reform. The documents furthermore indicated that


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the political leadership of the country had finally turned its eyes to the military. Thus, at the beginning of the new century there was considerable optimism, even among long-time critics of Ukrainian defense policy. In the words of Ukrainian military expert Valentin Badrak, ‘the ice has broken’ (Badrak, 2002). Deputy General Secretary of NATO John Colston said in July 2007 that Ukraine today has armed forces of which it can be proud, because they are much more modern and capable than they used to be. Ukraine is today the only partner country that wants to and is able to make contributions in all NATO missions. (‘Ukraina mozhet gorditsia svoimi vooruzhennymi sylami [ . . . ]’) Military reform was moving ahead most notably in military education, organization, training, and convergence to NATO standards. The drivers behind this progress seem to have been occasional support and active help from the president, entrepreneurship and dedication among progressive Ukrainian officers, and, what is particularly relevant here, advice and material support from Western countries, bilaterally as well as through NATO. Thus, given this far from trivial impact on the development of the Ukrainian military one could easily imagine that the military had become an actor who, motivated by its own sectoral interest, had become a promoter of Ukrainian integration with NATO. That, however, does not really seem to be the case, at least in terms of membership. There are two reasons for this. First, the Ukrainian military lacks political clout. In contrast, for example, to the Russian military, the Ukrainian military have more or less totally stayed out of high politics. Second, although the Ukrainian military are more positive toward NATO than the general population, opinion polls indicate there is no majority for membership here either. A February 2009 opinion poll among personnel in the Ukrainian MoD, General Staff and National Military Academy (a total of 2127 respondents) revealed a number of interesting findings. On the question of Ukrainian NATO membership 40 per cent were in favor and 50 per cent against, and only 15 per cent saw NATO membership as an urgent issue. This was the case despite the fact that a majority saw NATO as a positive force in the world (45 per cent against


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35 per cent who thought it was a negative force); a generally very positive attitude toward the current cooperation (partnership) with NATO (44 per cent would like to expand the current cooperation, 28 per cent would like to maintain the cooperation on the current level, and only 17 per cent would like to reduce the cooperation), and despite the fact that a majority thought membership, if it should happen, would prove beneficial for Ukrainian military capabilities (44 per cent thought membership would be beneficial for capabilities, 22 per cent thought it would have no effect, and 14 per cent thought it would reduce military capabilities). Those who did not favor membership in NATO mentioned 1. worsened relations with Russia, 2. risk of having to fight the wars of the USA, and 3. deterioration of the Ukrainian military industrial complex as their most important reasons (‘Stavlennia viiskovosluzhbovtsiv [ . . . ]’). In addition, when asked about whether they thought their own career prospects would better with NATO membership, 43 per cent expected neither a positive nor a negative effect, 22 per cent thought they would profit personally, and only 9 per cent thought they would lose personally (‘Stavlennia viiskovosluzhbovtsiv [ . . . ]’). The majority perspective in the Ukrainian military establishment seems to be that NATO is both good in itself and good for Ukraine, but that in terms of membership the advantages still do not outweigh the disadvantages of destroying relations with Russia. The military industry The Ukrainian military industry was until the end of the Soviet Union an integral part of that country’s military industry, and the ties to the Russian military industry especially are still strong. Leonid Kuchma, who was elected Ukrainian President in 1994, made his career within this industry. He was elected on a pro-Russian platform, but his illusions about Moscow’s willingness to treat Ukraine as an equal partner were soon gone after his first few visits to Moscow. He then shifted to his ‘multivector’ foreign policy. One of the reasons for this policy shift was a change of attitude in the Ukrainian military industry in direction of a more pro-Western stance. In the latter half of the 1990s, the Ukrainian military industry became one of the sectoral actors arguing for closer relations with NATO (Bukkvoll, 2002, pp. 131–53). Over the years this opening to the West has given a number of positive results. The book Ukrayina–NATO: Oboronno-promyslova


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perspektyva (Ukraine–NATO: The Military Industrial Perspective) lists a total of 27 examples of successful military-technological and military-industrial cooperation between Ukraine and NATO (Zhurets et al., 2008, pp. 110–201). The main attraction of NATO for the Ukrainian military industry is that it can ease access to Western technologies. Sergeii Bondarchuk, director of the state Ukrainian arms trader, Ukrspetseksport, sums up much of the thinking in the Ukrainian military industry in this respect when he states that ‘our company has for a long time (after the fall of the Soviet Union) exploited the technological base that was created during the Soviet period. Today, though, we feel that this base has been exhausted’ (Bondarchuk, 2008, p. 50). The Ukrainians never had any doubt that the West had more to offer in this respect than Russia (Zhurets et al., 2008, p. 6), and it was additionally noted in Ukraine that the new NATO members from the former Eastern bloc at times scored significant offset agreements after joining NATO (Badrak, 2008, p. 78). Those in the Ukrainian military industry who favor closer relations with NATO know, of course, that there is no direct link between close partnership or membership on the one hand, and new orders for their companies on the other. But, partly based on their own experience, they hope and think that close Ukraine–NATO relations can open new arenas where these companies have better opportunities to demonstrate and sell their products and services. The Ukrainian military industry has, for instance, gained increased understanding of these processes due to the Ukraine–NATO Joint Working Group on military-technological cooperation that was established in 2004. Moreover, this raises the question of whether the difference between partnership and membership is of any importance for increasing military-technical cooperation. It is perhaps a paradox for leaders in the Ukrainian military industry that Russian companies at present have more cooperation with NATO than their Ukrainian colleagues (Shekhovtsov, 2008). This reality is of course a reflection of the fact that the Russian military industry is much larger than that of Ukraine, but it must still be a thing to ponder that the very different political relations to NATO that Russia and Ukraine have seem to have so little significance for the prospects of technical-industrial cooperation. The relative successes Russia has had in establishing industry-to-industry cooperation seem to suggest


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that partnership could be enough. However, membership would probably have opened doors that partnership does not. The mentioned offset successes of the new member countries point in this direction. The difference in opportunities between partnership and membership is also noted by representatives in the Ukrainian military industry. For example, Yevgenii Borisov, director of a major military ship-building design bureau in Mykolayiv, has complained in connection with the joint Ukrainian–French corvette project that ‘unfortunately, unless Ukraine becomes a member of NATO, she will never get access to the full range of NATO standards. The secret parts of the NATO standards are as of today unavailable to Ukraine’ (Borisov, 2008, p. 89). Thus, the military industry has, because of hopes that this will increase access to new technologies and new markets, a potential motive as a sectoral promoter of partnership and/or membership. For a brief period in the late 1990s, this seems to have been the case, and some of the industry’s representatives are still very pro-NATO. Nevertheless, today it would almost certainly be wrong to argue that the Ukrainian military industry is a sectoral lobbyist for NATOintegration. First of all, it seems as if the majority of industry leaders have lost faith in the perspective of broad-based cooperation with the defense industries of NATO countries. According to one source, a majority of the managers of the Ukrainian military industrial complex now, in contrast to the late 1990s, look with skepticism at the prospects for military-technical and industrial cooperation with the West and with NATO countries (Zhurets et al., 2008, p. 6). Not that they do not want it, but they doubt it is going to happen. Second, the Ukrainian military industry today has relatively limited abilities to impact on policy as a sectoral lobby. Ukraine inherited about 30 per cent of the Soviet military industry. At the time when Ukraine gained its independence, 1.3 million people were employed by companies that only produced military equipment in Ukraine. Therefore, in the early years of independence the military industry was a significant part of the Ukrainian economy. But, due to little or no orders from the national armed forces up until today, more or less only enterprises with export potential were able to survive. In 2008, the 170 remaining companies of the Ukrainian military industry employed in excess of 250,000 people. That amounts


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to about 1.2 per cent of the labor force and about 4.3 per cent of the industrial labor force.1 The export income from arms sales in 2008 was about $1.2 billion, which amounted to about 1.8 per cent of total export earnings (Bogdanov, 2009, p. 4). Thus, the military industry cannot claim to be a major economic player in Ukraine as it is in Russia, neither in terms of the number of companies, people employed, nor contribution to the country’s export earnings. And, if you are not a major economic player you are also less likely to be a major political player. The Ukrainian military industry might have more political influence than its size would suggest because it is one of the very few high-tech export industries, and because of its significance for national security, but this is not enough to make up for its limited size.

Conclusion The motives behind Ukraine’s partnership policy with NATO, as discussed in this chapter, are multifaceted. The following Table 5.1 summarizes the main findings (aggregated interpretation of the empirical findings with page references): Table 5.1

Identityoriented

Collective actionoriented

Summary of empirical findings National level

Sectoral level

Individual level

European identity for Ukraine

European identity for the armed forces and for the military industry

European and statesman identity for Ukrainian politicians

Strong explanatory power (pp. 6–7)

Weak explanatory power (p. 8)

Strong explanatory power (pp. 8–9)

Improve Ukrainian security through cooperation with other states on the global and regional levels

Not relevant

Not relevant

Medium explanatory power (pp. 9–11)


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Table 5.1

(Continued) National level

Rationalist For some: increase oriented chances of membership that in turn will increase Ukraine’s deterrence capability For others: get organizational and financial assistance in the development of the country’s armed forces

Sectoral level

Individual level

For the armed forces: improve the quality of their sector

For Ukrainian politicians: pro-NATO opinions will yield few extra votes to individual politicians because of popular disinterest in the partnership issue, and resistance to membership

For the military industry: access to new technologies and possibly new markets Medium explanatory power (pp. 13–19)

Medium explanatory power (pp. 11–12)

For Ukrainian military: some benefits in terms of foreign education and so on Weak explanatory power (pp. 1–2, 12 and 17)

As the study has indicated, of the three types of motivation presented in the beginning, the European identity-oriented motivation (both on the national and on the individual levels) has the strongest explanatory power. Without this motive, shared by all three major political forces, it is questionable whether it would have been possible to muster the elite consensus necessary to engage in the presently very active partnership policy. Ukraine–NATO relations could then instead have been similar to the present very low level of Belarus– NATO relations. However, a precondition for the European identity utility to have had this effect has been that partnership with NATO could be pursued without destroying relations with Russia. Acting upon the European identity utility by seeking partnership with NATO does not come with unacceptable political costs. By introducing the concept of political costs we are already moving from identity-oriented to rationalistic utility.


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There is a very significant part of the elite that on rationalistic grounds would like membership as soon as possible because it would entitle Ukraine to Article 5 guarantees, and thus deter Russia both in times of peace and war. The cost, however, would be seriously deteriorating relations with Russia. This is a cost both the Ukrainian population and a majority of the elite at present are not ready to pay. The resistance to membership in the population is relatively stable, whereas, as detailed in this chapter, the resistance in the elite is more contingent. Nevertheless, because of the popular resistance there is no elite majority willing to push for membership today. Thus, aspiration for future membership is an important but far from sufficient explanation for Ukraine’s partnership policy with NATO. Partnership is also based on other rationalistic utility calculations such as help in reforming and even funding the armed forces (national level), and provision of benefits for the Ukrainian military and/or the Ukrainian military industry (sectoral level). Examples of such utilities have been presented in this chapter, but their explanatory power on the partnership policy is probably weak. The very limited interest in defense policy in much of the Ukrainian political elite seems to indicate that concern for the future of the armed forces has not been a strong motive for the partnership policy. Some representatives of the Ukrainian military and military industry appear motivated both by sectoral self interest and a desire for a European identity for their sectors, but in none of these two sectors do these representatives seem to be in a majority. In addition, neither the Ukrainian military nor the Ukrainian military industry has much political clout as lobby groups. The collective action utility of increasing security for all through partnership cannot be dismissed, but it is difficult to demonstrate empirically. On the global scene, Ukraine has been a very active participant in peace operations, and on the regional scene, at least, relations with Poland seem to have profited from both countries’ close relations with NATO. However, since one can also easily find rationalist and identity-oriented explanations for much of what Ukraine has done in the global and regional arenas, collective actions utility becomes difficult to disentangle from the two other types of utilities. Collective action utility might have a rightful place in


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the explanation of Ukrainian partnership policy with NATO, but the explanatory power is very hard to determine. In the short term, Ukraine is likely to continue its active partnership with NATO but without pushing for membership. In the longer term, though, the membership issue might very well bounce back. It is my reading of the situation that those in the elite who are in favor of membership are committed to this view, whereas many of those who are against hold this view mainly in order to gain electoral support in times of elections. Popular resistance to NATO membership can at least partly be explained by the fact that those politicians who argue for membership are the same politicians that are responsible for the absence of political reform and progress in the country as such. If Ukraine was to get a political leadership that actually moved the country forward in terms of efficient economic policies, battled corruption, and streamlined the state apparatus and so on, and at the same time were in favor of NATO membership, this could potentially make many current opponents of NATO membership see things differently. This could especially be the effect among the younger generations of Ukrainians.

Note 1. Bogdanov (2009, p. 4, plus author’s own calculations based on statistics from the Ukrainian State Committee of Statistics, http://www.ukrstat. gov.ua/, date accessed 22 December 2009.

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Borisov, Y. (2008) ‘Standarty Nato – ne samotsel, a progressivnyi shag k razvitiu nashei promyshlennosti, nauki I tekhniki’ in S. G. Zhurets, V. V. Badrak, M. M. Samus, O. O. Nabochenko, V. I. Kopchak, A. A. Kramar and I. S. Riabchyi (eds) Ukrayina–Nato: Oboronno-Promyslova Perspektyva (Kiev: Defense Express Library). Bukkvoll, T. (2002) ‘Defining a Ukrainian Foreign Policy Identity: Business Interests and Geopolitics in the Formation of Ukrainian Foreign Policy 1994–1999’ in T. Kuzio, J. Moroney and M. Molchanov (eds) Ukrainian Foreign and Security Policy – Theoretical and Comparative Prespectives (Westport: Praeger Publishers), pp. 131–53. Bukkvoll, Tor and Koren, Knut Magnus (2007) Military Reform in Ukraine 2000–2007, http://rapporter.ffi.no/rapporter/2007/02192.pdf, date accessed 22 March 2010. Bondarchuk, S. (2008) ‘Ukraina mogla by znachitelno rasshirit svoi vozmozhnosti postavshchika oruzhia za schet primenenia offsetnykh soglashenii’ in S. G. Zhurets, V. V. Badrak, M. M. Samus, O. O. Nabochenko, V. I. Kopchak, A. A. Kramar and I. S. Riabchyi (eds) Ukrayina–Nato: Oboronno-Promyslova Perspektyva (Kiev: Defense Express Library). Checkel, J. (1993) ‘Ideas, Institutions, and the Gorbachev Foreign Policy Revolution’, World Politics, Vol. 45, No. 2, pp. 271–300. Chernyshov, Oleg, Adams, Barry, Glover, Stephen, Greene, James and Kovalenko, Hennadiy (2007) Ministry of Defence White Book 2006 – Defence Policy of Ukraine (Kiev: Ministry of Defence of Ukraine). Geda, E. (2009) ‘Ukraina ne proshla voennoiu podgotovku’, KommersantUkrainy, 4 August 2009. Horbulin, V. (2005) ‘Perevooruzhenie vooruzhennykh sil Ukrainy i strategia sderzhivania’, Defense Express, December. Horbulin, V. (2007) ‘Ukrayina–Nato: Stahnatsiia chy povilna intehratsiia’, Stratehichni priorytety, No. 2. Kastelli, V., Green, J., Jones, D., Balabin, V., Melnik, O., Sungurovskiy, M. and Chernyshov, O. (2006) Ministry of Defence White Book 2006 – Defence Policy of Ukraine (Kiev: Ministry of Defence of Ukraine). Katzenstein, P. J. (ed.) (1996) The Culture of National Security (New York: Columbia University Press). Kiev International Institute for Sociology: Poll from February 2002, http://www.kiis.com.ua/db/index.php#5, date accessed 22 March 2010. Kulyk, V. (2009) ‘Mosty kvitiv pidirvani . . . Ale vidnovlenniu pidliahaiut’, Dzerkalo Tyzhnia, 13–20 April 2009. Kucherk, V. (2009) ‘Viktor Yushchenko dal otsrochku’, Kommersant-Ukrainy, 12 January 2009. Party Program, Mizhnarodna Bezpeka, http://yanukovych.com.ua/program party.html, date accessed 22 December 2009. Pavlenko, A. (2003) ‘Voennaia demokratia ili o kadrovykh problemakh reformirovania armii’, Defense Express News, 1 October 2003. ‘Pro stratehiiu mizhnarodnoyi diialnosti Ukrayiny’, http://www.mil.gov. ua/index.php?part=peacekeeping&lang=ua&sub=435_2009, date accessed 3 February 2010.


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Razumkov Centre: ‘How Would You Vote If the Referendum on Ukraine’s Nato Accession Was Held the Following Sunday?’, http://www.uceps.org/ eng/poll.php?poll_id=46, date accessed 22 March 2010. Rossia: ‘Sokhranim i Priumnozhim! – Programmnyi Dokument Partii Edinaia Rossia’, http://edinros.ru/er/text,shtml?10/9535,110030, date accessed 22 December 2009. Sakovskyi, G. A. (2005) ‘Vtilennia suchasnykh pryntsypiv viiskovoho budivnytstva v Zbroinykh sylakh Ukrayiny u protsesi yikh reformuvannia’ in O. S. Bodruk (ed.) Aktualni Problemy Reformuvannia Sfery Bezpeky I Oborony Ukrayiny (Kiev: Logos). Samus, M. (2009) ‘Si Briz kak diagnos’, Defense Express News, 1 July 2009. Sedov, L. (2009) ‘Tradition Breaks Reform’, Russia in Global Affairs, No. 4, October–December, http://eng.globalaffairs.ru/numbers/29/1315.html, date accessed 22 March 2010. Shekhovtsov, V. (2008) ‘Rynkova transformatsiia OPK Ukrayiny ta yevroatlantychna intehratsiia’, Defense Express News, 13 June 2008. Sherr, J. (2002) ‘Country Briefing: Ukraine: A State of Reform’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 10 July 2002. Silina, Tetiana (2006) ‘A kurs yakshcho ye, to yoho vidrazu nemaie . . . pro naslidky kompromisiv u teksti universalu’, Dzerkalo Tyzhnia, 16–22 September 2006. Spero, J. B. (2002) ‘The Polish–Ukrainian Interstate Model for Cooperation and Integration: Regional Relations in a Theoretical Context’ in T. Kuzio, J. Moroney and M. Molchanov (eds) Ukrainian Foreign and Security Policy – Theoretical and Comparative Perspectives (Westport: Praeger Publishers), pp. 155–77. ‘Spivrobnitstvo Ukrayiny z Nato – Vidnosyny Ukrayina–Nato v tsifrakh I faktakh’, http://www.mil.gov.ua, date accessed 21 November 2009. ‘Stavlennia viiskovosluzhbovtsiv I tsyvilnoho personalu tsentralnoho aparatu ministerstva oborony Ukrayiny, Heneralnoho Shtabu Zbroinykh syl Ukrayiny ta Natsionalnoyi Akademiyi Oborony Ukrayiny do yevroatlantichnoyi intehratsiyi Ukrayiny’, Tsentr Voennoyi Polityky ta Polityky Bezpeky, http://defpol.org.ua/site/index.php/uk/2009-09-10-14-29-32/1662009-09-11-05-15-02, date accessed 20 December 2009. ‘The Basis of Byut Foreign Policy’, http://wwwibyut.com/platform.html, date accessed 16 December 2009. ‘The History of the Armed Forces of Ukraine in Peacekeeping Operations’, http://www.mil.gov.ua/index.php, date accessed 16 December 2009. Tsymbaliuk, R. (2006) ‘Ukrainskoe mirotvorchestvo. realii i perspektivy’, Defense Express News, 29 August 2006. Tsytsiurskii, M. (2008) ‘Viiskova transformatsia Zbroinykh syl Ukrayiny’ in S. G. Zhurets, V. V. Badrak, M. M. Samus, O. O. Nabochenko, V. I. Kopchak, A. A. Kramar and I. S. Riabchyi (eds) Ukrayina–Nato: Oboronno-Promyslova Perspektyva (Kiev: Defense Express Library). ‘Ukraina mozhet gorditsia svoimi vooruzhennymi silami – Zamestitel Genseka Nato John Colston’, Defense Express News, 10 July 2007.


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6 NATO and the EU ‘Neutrals’ – Instrumental or Value-Oriented Utility? Magnus Petersson

Introduction It has been underscored several times that NATO partnership policy is, and has always been, something more than a preparation, or a waiting room, for NATO membership. In a speech in Munich in February 1995, for example, NATO Secretary General Willy Claes described the PfP program as a political project: ‘The fact that former neutrals such as Sweden, Finland (and soon also Austria) are part of this endeavor only serves to underline the unique role of our Alliance as an agent of political change’ (Claes, 1995). The group of EU ‘neutrals’ within NATO’s PfP program – Austria, Finland, Ireland, Malta, and Sweden – is perhaps more than any other group of NATO partners representing that fact, as they see NATO partnership not as a way of becoming NATO members, but as a complement to EU membership. As Roisin Doherty points out, their relationship with NATO ‘is not motivated by insecurity and remains bounded by a wish to remain outside the alliance.’ ‘These countries,’ she continues, ‘do not see PfP as the slippery slope towards NATO membership’ (Doherty, 2000, p. 73). They want to borrow another metaphor from Laura Ferreira-Pereira, to be ‘inside the fence but outside the walls’ (Ferreira-Pereira, 2006). But why, then, do NATO and the NATO members want partners that do not want to be members in the foreseeable future? What is the political and military utility in such an arrangement? 112


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In this chapter the group of EU ‘neutrals’ will be scrutinized in three ways. First, it will be investigated if these states can be viewed as a homogenous group of states that can be dealt with in a similar way. Second, the political and military contribution to NATO from these states will be analyzed. The five main objectives for the PfP program will be the point of departure in that analysis, namely 1. transparency in defense planning and budgeting, 2. democratic control of defense forces, 3. non-combat operations under UN or OSCE authority, 4. cooperative military relations with NATO in joint planning, training and exercises, and 5. force interoperability over the longer term with NATO members, including through participation in Combined Joint Task Forces. Third, and perhaps most importantly, the rationality behind NATO’s policy and attitude toward these states will be discussed. The utilizing of Max Weber’s distinction between instrumental rationality (Zweckrationalität) and valuerationality (Wertrationalität) can be a useful tool for that reason. Instrumental rationality is, in a literal sense, instrumental and focuses on practical results. Value-rationality, on the other hand, is expressive and focuses on the realization of the symbolic meaning of the activity in itself (Weber, 1947, pp. 115–18). It is easy to imagine that NATO partnership policy against the EU ‘neutrals’ can be categorized in these terms. Is, for example, NATO policy against Malta mainly value rational, not so focused on the results, but rather than on the symbolic meaning of, for example, inclusiveness? And is, as another example, NATO policy against Sweden mainly instrumental, focused on the results rather than on the activity of having a partnership with Sweden in itself? Applying Weber’s typology of rationality when discussing NATO’s and the member states policy toward these states can hopefully help to identify interesting patterns that can make us better understand the rationality (and/or non-rationality) behind the NATO partnership concept in general, and the partnership with the EU ‘neutrals’ in particular.

The EU ‘neutrals’ – A homogeneous group? It might not be totally fair to define all five countries in the group of EU ‘neutrals’ as neutrals. The historical differences between the countries policies are important and so are the different developments of


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the policies since the Cold War ended. During the Cold War, it was fair to say that all five countries practiced a neutrality policy, but the policies rested on different ground: the Finnish, Irish, and Swedish were clearly political in nature, the Austrian legal (that is entrenched in the constitution), and the Maltese was first political and then legal. After the Cold War it can be argued that the Finnish and the Swedish neutrality policies were abandoned and replaced by a policy of non-alignment (that is the word ‘neutrality’ is not in use anymore), that the Irish policy was still expressed as a policy of military neutrality, and that the Austrian and Maltese neutrality policies were still incorporated in the constitution (for an overview, see Atack and McCrum 2009; Newby and Titley, 2003). Despite the differences, it can be argued that the EU ‘neutrals,’ as a group, still is analytically useful when studying NATO partnership policy. The group is, compared to other partner countries, or groups of partner countries, in many important respects a homogeneous and distinct group of partners that can be dealt with in a similar way. They can, for example, in general be seen as exemplary partner states fulfilling the ‘soft’ objectives of the PfP program. The defense planning and budget process has, and has long been, transparent in these countries and none of them lacks democratic control of the armed forces. Nevertheless, considering the ‘hard’ objectives of the PfP program: Non-combat operations under UN or OSCE authority; cooperative military relations with NATO in joint planning, training and exercises; and force interoperability over the longer term with NATO members, including through participation in Combined Joint Task Forces, the picture is more nuanced. Already when looking at ‘facts and figures,’1 it can be argued that within the group of EU ‘neutrals,’ there have been, and still are, more or less reluctant partners: Finland and Sweden stand out as the least reluctant ones, followed by Austria, Ireland, and Malta. One important reason for that can be, as mentioned above, that the neutrality policies of Finland and Sweden have transformed into a non-alignment policy after the end of the Cold War. When the PfP program was launched in 1994, Finland and Sweden immediately joined in. By December the same year, the countries had, together with the soon to be members – the Czech Republic, Bulgaria, Hungary, Lithuania, Poland, Romania, and Slovakia – also


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managed to conclude their first Individual Partnership Program, IPP, that is, a bilateral agreement of cooperation between the partner state and NATO (Borawski, 1995, p. 239). Austria and Malta submitted to the PfP program in 1995 – although Malta suspended in 1996 due to its neutrality policy – and Ireland in 1999. Further, when looking at the ‘primary tool’ for achieving interoperability, the PfP Planning and Review Process (PARP), the same pattern appears: Finland and Sweden joined the process in 1995, Austria in 1996, Ireland in 2001, and Malta is still considering future participation after reactivating its PfP membership in 2008. A third indicator of the level of reluctance to partnership among these countries is their contribution to NATO operations. In general, it can be argued that Sweden contributes most, followed by Finland, Austria, and Ireland. (Malta is, naturally, a special case. With its population of approximately 400,000 citizens, and the fact that the country have not for very long been a PfP member, its present ambitions are, at present, restricted to develop and improve the ability to contribute to peace-support operations in the future.) In 1996, Austria, Finland, and Sweden contributed to the NATO-led peacekeeping force in Bosnia–Herzegovina – Austria with a transport element, Finland and Sweden with an infantry battalion each. From 1997, Ireland (not yet a PfP country), contributed with a military police company headquarters, a military police platoon, and a national support element. In other words, it can be argued that both the quantity and the type of forces sent mirror the signals of reluctance to contributing to NATO operations between the countries: Finland and Sweden sent relatively large, combat (or combat-like) forces while Austria and Ireland sent relatively small support (or support-like) forces. And that pattern continued. From 1999, Austria, Ireland, Finland, and Sweden participated in the NATO-led peacekeeping force in Kosovo (KFOR); Finland and Sweden in a similar way as in Bosnia–Herzegovina (that is battalion level), Austria now for the first time with combat forces comparable to the Finnish and Swedish, including five small maneuver task forces with a total strength of approximately 450 soldiers. From May 2008 to May 2009, Austria also had a leading role in KFOR; it contributed with the biggest non-NATO member contingent (at most up to 700 personnel), and commanded KFOR’s Multinational Task Force South (MNTF-S). In the KFOR operation, Ireland also replaced


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its support units with combat units; at the beginning of the operation Ireland contributed with a transport/logistics company, which later, in October 2004, was replaced by an armored infantry company. Meanwhile, as the contribution to the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan increased, Sweden downsized its forces in Kosovo. Since 2006, Sweden has instead led a Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) in Mazar-i-Sharif in the northern part of the country, and contributed with approximately 450 troops to the ISAF operation. Finland’s contribution to ISAF was approximately 100 personal, mainly in the Swedish-led PRT. Austria and Ireland have contributed to ISAF with a few staff officers. Additionally, Finland and Sweden are the only non-member countries participating in NATO’s Strategic Airlift Capability (SAC) initiative, which was established in 2008 and is under the command of a multinational military structure – the Heavy Airlift Wing (HAW) – led by a US Air Force officer. That can be interpreted as a quite unusual commitment for two non-aligned states and a clear signal from Finland and Sweden that they are prepared to be deeply integrated in NATO’s defense structures, even though they do not want to be members. In sum, it can thus be argued that the EU ‘neutrals’ – from a NATO perspective – in important respects, such as ideological/bureaucratic ‘reliability’ and ‘maturity’ in general, are a homogenous group of NATO partners that can be dealt with in a similar way. But when it comes to the degree of reluctance to ‘harder’ issues in the partnership, such as contributing troops, there are both qualitative and quantitative differences among these partners. It is, therefore, tempting to differentiate between the EU ‘neutrals’ political and military integration in the NATO PfP structure: Politically they stand out as homogenous but militarily they are a heterogeneous group of partners. This impression is strengthened by interviews with NATO civil servants as well as civil servants from partner countries. The European partner countries Austria, Finland, Ireland, Sweden, and Switzerland (not an EU member) are both seen as and perceive themselves as a front group within the PfP program. Within that group, Finland and Sweden stand out as the most willing countries, who cooperate on all levels and on all areas. In some ways they act as they were members, according to several of the interviewed, and sometimes they,


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informally, are even called ‘non-NATO allies.’ Austria, Ireland, and Switzerland have a more restrictive policy, according to the interviewees, but are also seen as very valuable partners for NATO. All the EU ‘neutrals’ are, from a NATO perspective, seen as reliable, and easy to communicate and cooperate with (Interview 1; Interview 3; Interview 4).

The EU ‘neutrals’ – A contributing group? Formally, the PfP program was founded on – and still rests on – ‘NATO centric’ conditions: PfP is under the North Atlantic Councils authority, partner countries can only contribute to policy decisions indirectly (for example through silent diplomacy, consultation, influencing agenda setting, and so on) and the bottom line principal has always been that partners – especially partners that want to become members – must show that they can be providers, not only consumers, of security (see, for example, Borawski, 1999, pp. 325–6). How the principal of the balance between ‘providing’ and ‘consuming’ security has been followed in practice is, however, widely debated. Zoltan Barany, for example, argues that the seven former partners that wanted to be members, but did not live up to membership standard (that is Bulgaria, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Slovakia, and Slovenia), were warmly welcomed as members in the aftermath of 11 September. He argues that the US ‘needed all the potential allies it could get, regardless of their deficiencies’ and that ‘some NATO aspirants jumped at the chance ingratiate themselves with Washington by offering sympathy and solidarity while continuing to neglect the implementation of real reform’ (Barany, 2009, p. 172). Even though it might not be fair to suggest that the balance of security providing and consuming is the only dimension of NATO partnership, it might have something to say on a structural level. Partner countries that contribute much and consume little would most likely be seen as more valuable partners. Contribution in relation to the five objectives of the PfP program can, as suggested in the introduction, be a good point of departure when ‘measuring’ the degree of contribution. Following the pattern that appeared in the section above, it seems reasonable to believe that Sweden – all in all – is the biggest contributor, followed by Finland, Austria, Ireland, and


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Malta. The discussion of the countries’ contribution will, therefore, be structured in that order. According to Ryan Hendrickson, Sweden’s ‘activities in Afghanistan, Kosovo, in NATO training operations and in force modernization mean Sweden has both the political will and the military capabilities to be a real “security provider” for the Allies’ (Hendrickson, 2007). The picture given by Hendrickson is well founded. Immediately after Sweden had joined the PfP program it started to engage in all sorts of activities, both ‘soft’ and ‘hard.’ In September–October that year, Sweden – together with Russia, Lithuania, Poland, and ten NATO members – took part in the maritime Exercise Cooperative Venture 94 in Skagerrak, within the frame of PfP. The exercise was ‘[d]esigned to familiarize maritime forces of NATO and Co-operation Partners with each other and to enhance their capability to work together in future peace-keeping operations’ (NATO, 1994b). In 1994 Sweden also, for example, took part in a NATO-sponsored meeting in Turkey in July on technology transfer – particularly intellectual property rights and patent legislation (NATO, 1994a) – and a NACC/PfP workshop on material, technical, and operation standardization in December (NATO, 1994c). In July 1996, Sweden hosted a PfP seminar in Stockholm on the conversion and use of civil aircraft for aero-medical evacuation (NATO, 1996b), and in November that year it hosted a Civil Emergency Planning seminar, with a focus on civil and democratic principles, structures, and legislative framework for emergency planning (NATO, 1996c). Besides that, Sweden soon took initiatives to develop the PfP. In December 1996, in connection to the meeting of the North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) in Brussels, Under Secretary of State, Jan Eliasson, proposed a regional PfP center for pre-exercises, training, and courses, and offered facilities for such a center in Sweden to get a quick start. Another example was the Swedish minesweeping operations in Baltic territorial waters in the 1990s, which included training in minesweeping for the Baltic countries ‘in the spirit of PfP’ (Eliasson, 1996). Representatives for the Swedish Armed Forces have also been eager, it seems, to describe the forces as adaptable, modern, and – not least – interoperable with NATO forces (Ericsson, 2004; Kihl, 2005; Grenstad, 2006). In an article from 2005, Major General Jan Andersson (Chief of the Swedish Air Force), put it in the following


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way: ‘For almost a decade, ongoing internationalization has put the issue of interoperability at top of the agenda; achieving EU, NATO and US interoperability in all perspective is a guiding objective’ (Andersson, 2005, p. 174 – Emphasis added). And in another article from 2006, the Supreme Commander of the Swedish Armed Forces, General Håkan Syrén, argued as follows: Interoperability is a key concern in the further modernization of the Swedish forces. As a partner to NATO we are using the PARP as main tool for interoperability development. Our aim is to give almost all our forces the capability to operate efficiently in a multinational environment. NATO standards are broadly used within our forces, not only in terms of equipment, but also in training and in the command system. (Syrén, 2006, p. 116) Finland’s contribution to NATO is quite similar to Sweden’s and it contains ‘soft’ as well as ‘hard’ components (Interview 6). Finland also, early on, took an active part in all sorts of activities within the PfP program. In December 1994 Finland attended the above mentioned NACC/PfP workshop on material, technical, and operation standardization in December (NATO, 1994c), and – together with Austria, Slovenia and Sweden – sent observors to a meeting of the NATO Committee on the Challenges of Modern Society (CCMS) in April 1995 (NATO, 1995). Finland also, on an early stage, was open to further developing and deepening PfP cooperation. A statement by the Under Secretary of State, Mr. Jakko Blomberg, in connection to the NACC meeting in December 1996, underscored – inter alia – that Finland supported increased regional cooperation in the Baltic Sea region, participation in NATO’s command structures for interested partner countries for crisis management planning purposes, and expanding and developing the PARP (Blomberg, 1996). In an article from 2001, Tuomas Forsberg and Tapani Vaahtoranta characterized Finnish and Swedish contributions to the Alliance in the following way: ‘In short, with regard to the cooperation with NATO, everything else seems to be acceptable except the mutual security guarantees of Article 5’ (Forsberg and Vaahtoranta, 2001, p. 75). That seems like an accurate interpretation. And just like in the case


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of Sweden, representatives of the Finnish Defence Forces seem eager to argue that the defense forces are modern and useful for NATO purposes. In an article from 2006, Admiral Juhani Kaskela, Chief of Defence Staff, argued that the PfP program had been ‘a remarkable mutual success,’ that the aim was to ‘continually improve Finland’s already high level of interoperability,’ and that Finland, with more than 500 troops in Kosovo and Afghanistan, hardly could be accused of ‘freeriding’ (Kaskela, 2006, p. 76). In another article from 2008, Finland’s Minister of Defence, Jyri Häkämies, argued that Finland’s main interest in the PfP program had been ‘participation in the NATO-led crisis management operations and thus the need to develop our interoperability and crisis management capabilities’ (Häkämies, 2008, p. 135). Austria is also contributing much to NATO with regard to both ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ issues. The actions taken by the Austrian’s within the frame of the PfP program can nevertheless – as mentioned above – be characterized as more restrained, less demonstrative, and less pro-active than those of the Swedish and Finnish. During the first years of the Austrian partnership with NATO, Austria was, in principal, engaged in ‘soft’ issues, such as hosting a workshop on the use of military and civil defense assets in disaster relief in 1996 (NATO, 1996a), and participating in an exercise to test and evaluate procedures for exchange of information on detection and monitoring of radiation in 1997 (NATO, 1997). The subtle terminology used to describe the development of Austria’s participation in the PfP in December 1998 is quite typical: [ . . . ] Austria is now prepared to cooperate with NATO, its members and the other PfP-participants in the full range of peace support operations, that is to say in areas beyond peace keeping. (Schüssel, 1998) Instead of declaring its willingness to participate in peace enforcement operations, the Austrian government chose to express its engagement in terms of ‘areas beyond peace keeping.’ This more cautious, and less demonstrative, approach to cooperation with NATO is also evident when representatives of the Austrian Armed Forces make statements. The focus is rather on the transformation of the forces as


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such, than that the transformation – as in the Finnish and Swedish cases – makes the forces interoperable and relevant in a NATO context (Entacher, 2006; Darabos, 2008; Höfler, 2008). Among the four ‘big’ partners in the group of EU ‘neutrals,’ Ireland seems – as already been discussed – to be the most reluctant, cautious, and ostentatiously ‘neutralistic’ NATO partner. Sometimes it seems that Ireland is doing its best to dissociate from the organization that it is formally associated with. The Irish arguments for joining the PfP program in the late 1990s was focused on to being ‘in keeping with Ireland’s role in the European Union’ and on the necessity to become an effective peacekeeping nation, rather than on being a solid and reliable contributor to the North Atlantic Alliance (Moran, 1996; Horgan, 1999). Doherty argues that ‘the importance of PfP as a forum for regional peacekeeping’ was ‘the primary reason’ for Irish membership. The changing nature of peacekeeping, she continues, made it necessary for Ireland to join if it wanted to keep its reliability as a peacekeeping nation. Since planning and conducting peacekeeping missions – also in an EU context – was made with NATO’s instruments and standards (the PARP, and so on), the PfP became necessary as an instrument for a country that wanted to be a better peacekeeper. However, according to Doherty, it also helped the Irish to overcome the domestic debate on PfP and neutrality (Doherty, 2000, p. 64). Malta, lastly, seems to be very careful in connection to cooperation with NATO. At the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council in Bucharest in 2008 – when Malta reactivated its partnership with NATO – the Prime Minister of Malta, Lawrence Gonzi, underlined that the PfP membership was ‘fully consistent with the Maltese Constitutional provisions on neutrality,’ and that it was a instrument to develop civilian and military interoperability to be more effective in UN sanctioned crisis management and peace support operations (Office of the Prime Minister, 2008). In a draft to Malta’s IPP for 2008–09, the Maltese cautiousness is even more prominent. It ‘reiterates’ that Malta ‘has no intent’ to become a member of the Alliance, and it excludes ‘participation in peace enforcement operations’ (Maltese Parliament, 2008). According to the newspaper Malta Today, the main reason behind the reactivation of the PfP membership was that Malta had been excluded from discussions between the EU and NATO, ‘because of confidentiality


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agreements between PfP countries and NATO over security policy documents.’ The reactivation was, remarkably, necessary for the EU member Malta to be able to ‘participate fully and unconditionally in EU organs,’ according to the author (Vassallo, 2008). Despite the Maltese reluctance toward NATO partnership, it can be argued that, from a NATO perspective, it is ‘geo-politically’ important to have Malta as a partner country. With the words of John E. Tunbridge, ‘few other places on earth, proportionately to size, have been so greatly impacted by military geographies for so long as has Malta.’ Its strategic location, between Sicily and Africa in the centre of the Mediterranean, has, as Tunbridge puts it, ‘virtually guaranteed its early human occupation and progressive influence or takeover by every major power that sought to pass that way’ (Tunbridge, 2008, pp. 449–51). In sum, it can thus be argued that the EU ‘neutrals’ all are providers of security to NATO through their partnership. Among the four ‘big’ partners a rough division can be made between Finland and Sweden on the one hand, and Austria and Ireland on the other. Finland and Sweden are very active and urgent partners contributing relatively heavily and trying to develop the PfP program further. Austria and Ireland are both great contributors, but have a much lower, and more restrictive, profile. Malta is a very special case, since it is so small and has not been part of the PfP program for a long time yet, but its actions up till the present can be seen as rather moderate and expectant. But what, then, is NATO’s approach to these states?

NATO and the EU ‘neutrals’ – Instruments or symbols? As outlined in the introduction, Weber’s concept of instrumental rationality vs. value-rationality can be used as an analytical instrument when trying to get a grip on NATO’s partnership policy in general, and policy against the EU ‘neutrals’ in particular. Weber’s distinction between value-rational and instrumentally rational action is based on intentions, that is ‘action is defined by the meaning the actor ascribes to it;’ ‘commitment to a binding conviction in the former case, commitment to calculability in the latter’ (Oakes, 2003, p. 38). Instrumentally rational action is, in principal, based on the assessment of relative costs and benefits, that is ‘the assessment is elaborate,


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covering the means of performing the action in comparison with other available means as well as the consequences of the action performed by the means selected, again in comparison with alternatives.’ Value rational action, on the other hand, is defined by the conviction of actors that a value can be ascribed to the act independent of the outcome. As Guy Oakes puts it: Weighing alternative means, comparing and assessing consequences, judging the impact of conduct on any range of objectives or values, even considering immediate prospects for success, are all irrelevant to value rationality. The imperatives of value rationality are categorical, not hypothetical; they are independent of all contingencies that might have any bearing on results. (Oakes, 2003, p. 39) There is not much evidence that NATO has a very clear, structured, and systematically implemented policy toward the EU ‘neutrals.’ The development of the ‘relation’ between NATO and its partners in general seems rather to be driven by the partners. As Stephan Frühling and Benjamin Schreer put it: ‘The lack of political consensus on the scope and limits of many of its partnerships has led NATO to adopt a “customer approach:” NATO largely leaves it up to its partners to define their desired areas of co-operation’ (Frühling and Schreer, 2010, p. 54). The EU ‘neutrals’ seem not to be an exception to that rule (Interview 3; Interview 4; Interview 6). Strictly speaking, if NATO does not have any intention at all for its partnership activities, there can be no rationality behind it – at least not in the Weberian sense. However, that is not really the case. There are elements of both value rationality and instrumental rationality in NATO’s actions against its partners, although it might not always be so explicitly formulated. According to Frühling and Schreer, for example, there are ‘particularly strong political and strategic commonality’ between NATO and the EU ‘neutrals’ (Frühling and Schreer, 2010, pp. 55–6) And the general impression is that the EU ‘neutrals’ are seen by NATO and NATO members as unproblematic, reliable states, easy to communicate and cooperate with – in short the type of partners that NATO want and need. The relation to the EU ‘neutrals’ is, however, by NATO civil servants characterized as mainly instrumental rather than value-oriented


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(Interview 3; Interview 4). That picture is strengthened by interviews with civil servants from partner countries. The overall interest from a NATO perspective is, according to several actors interviewed, practical military cooperation and contribution of forces to NATO operations based on common interests (Interview 1; Interview 2; Interview 5). It seems, all in all, that the mainly instrumental rationality that characterizes NATO’s relation to the EU ‘neutrals’ differs – principally – from the relation to the Central and Eastern European former and present partners. Research has shown that PfP membership at the prospect of NATO membership has promoted, for example, democracy (Barany, 2009). In the Polish case, as an example, Rachel Epstein argues that ‘the alliance’s engagement of Polish domestic reform [ . . . ] affected outcomes in everything from civil-military relations to defense planning’ (Epstein, 2005, p. 66). In sum, value rationality might have been a quite strong driving force for NATO in its approach to the Central and Eastern European partners that wanted to be members, many of them present members (Groves, 1999; Barany, 2009). But that seems not to be the case in connection to the EU ‘neutral’ partners. NATO seems to have a quite instrumental approach to these countries. They are, from a military perspective, seen as reliable contributors to NATO operations and other activities and they are, from a political perspective, seen as both a useful interface between EU and NATO, and as a leading group that develops the PfP concept (Barany, 2009, Interview 1). Laurent Goetschel suggests that enhanced participation of PfP states, ‘especially neutral ones [ . . . ] support NATO’s ambition to evolve into something more than a military alliance’ (Goetschel, 1999, p. 130). It seems quite clear that NATO standards and procedures for crisis management and peace operations is the only alternative today, and that states that want to take part in such arrangements must adapt to these standards and procedures. The PfP program is, for that purpose, a necessity. In that sense, the PfP program makes NATO something more than a military alliance, and for the EU ‘neutrals,’ and especially for Ireland, that aspect seems to be very important. The ability to develop interoperability through the PfP program, and aiming at being a better peacekeeper can, in sum, be a distinct


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feature for the relation between NATO and the EU ‘neutral’ partner countries (plus Switzerland), compared to many of the Eastern European countries who see the PfP program, first and foremost, as a way of becoming a NATO member.

Conclusion As this chapter has shown, NATO does not seem to have a particularly articulated strategy for developing its relations with the EU ‘neutrals.’ The relations seem mainly ad hoc driven and rather developed from a partner country perspective than from a NATO perspective. These results correspond well with earlier research on the topic. It is often argued that NATO partnering after the Cold War has been a very successful project (see, for example, Salonius-Pasternak, 2007, p. 23). But it is very seldom defined how this comes about. The focus has mainly been on the positive results as such, and not on the process and the strategies behind these results. NATO’s relation to the group of EU ‘neutral’ partner countries – Austria, Finland, Ireland, Malta, and Sweden – has been scrutinized in three ways in the chapter. First, it was investigated if these states could be seen as a homogenous group of states that could be dealt with in a similar way. The answer to this question was yes and no. Yes because the states share the same ambitions not to be NATO members, because there exists a ‘strategic commonality’ between NATO and the EU ‘neutrals,’ and because all the countries can be seen as quite similar in relation to the ‘soft’ objectives of the PfP program (democratic institutions, transparency in defense planning, and so on). No because their reluctance to contribute to the ‘hard’ objectives of the PfP program is quite different; Finland and Sweden are the least reluctant, followed by Austria, Ireland, and Malta. Second, the political and military contribution to NATO from these states was analyzed, and the same pattern appeared: Sweden is the biggest contributor to both ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ objectives of the PfP program, followed by Finland, Austria, Ireland, and Malta. Again, Sweden and Finland can be seen as a group within the group – very eager to do ‘everything’ as a loyal partner except security guarantees – that leads and develops the PfP cooperation even further. Austria and Ireland are more restrictive and passive. They contribute much, but do so often without speaking so loud about it. Malta is a special


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case; the country is small and has not been a partner for so long. It is, anyway, quite cautious in its relations with NATO so far. Third, the rationality behind NATO’s policy and attitude toward the EU ‘neutrals’ has been discussed. Max Weber’s distinction between instrumental rationality (Zweckrationalität) and valuerationality (Wertrationalität) has been used as a tool in that connection. NATO has been ‘accused’ for not having a strategy at all or – at least – a quite unarticulated strategy toward its partners in general. There seems to be a lot of truth in that, but while there is some clear evidence that NATO’s partnership policy against the Central and Eastern European partners, some of them present members, can be said to be built on a good portion of value rationality, it is hard to find that pattern when looking at NATO’s policy and attitude against the EU ‘neutrals.’ It rather seems as if the NATO policy is driven mainly by instrumental rationality, especially contribution to NATO operations. Goetschel argues that NATO could take advantage of the existence of neutral states: ‘by staying outside the organization’s formal hard core, these states can contribute tremendously to opening the alliance strengthening its non-collective defense tasks, which would ultimately ease the way for a move toward collective security’ (Goetschel, 1999, p. 133). The development of NATO’s relations to the EU ‘neutrals’ so far strongly supports Goetschels argument, whether it has been a policy or not. Frühling and Schreer suggest a more comprehensive and policyoriented program to how NATO partnership policy should be formulated and developed to be more trustworthy and appropriate for the Alliance, and at the same time create more security in general: namely, to focus on creating global collective goods in general, and develop the different types of partnership so that they are, in particular, more explicitly in line with NATO’s strategic interests. The logic of Frühling’s and Schreer’s general approach, to create global collective goods, is connected to practical defense assistance and cooperation as well as a wider security dialogue reducing the risk for conflicts in the international system. The logic of this particular approach, to work more systematically and differentiated against partner countries and groups of partner countries with the Alliance strategic interests in focus, is connected to collective defense, deterrence, and stable global relationships, regional stability (especially


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in the south-eastern flank), and cooperation with other important institutions to minimize the risk for armed conflicts. In connection to the latter, Frühling and Schreer argue, the EU ‘neutrals’ should warrant: [A] dedicated partnership programme: It should comprise the full gamut of functional partnership activities, with a special focus on political dialogue on questions of common security, on increased interoperability and even eventual integration. (Frühling and Schreer, 2010, pp. 56–7) If implemented, the suggestions of Frühling and Schreer would mean a more structured and focused NATO policy against the EU ‘neutrals’ with quite visible value oriented and instrumental components. The big question is, however, if these partners want such a rational, focused, and visible NATO policy. It can be argued that the reluctance from all countries – and especially Austria, Ireland, and Malta – to be ‘too’ integrated with and steered by NATO indicates that they are more comfortable with a partner-country driven ‘customer approach.’

Note 1. The ‘facts and figures’ in this section is mainly collected from the web pages of NATO and the EU ‘neutrals’ ministries of defence and defence forces.

Bibliography Andersson, J. (2005) ‘Future Role & Capabilities’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. III, pp. 172–8. Atack, I. and McCrum, S. (eds) (2009) Neutrality: Irish Experience European Experience (Dublin: Irish School of Ecumenics). Barany, Z. (2009) ‘NATO’s Post-Cold War Metamorhosis: From Sixteen to Tweny-Six and Counting’, International Studies Review, Vol. 8, No. 1, pp. 165–78. Blomberg, J. (1996) ‘Statement by Mr. Jaakko Blomberg, Under Secretary of State, Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Finland’, 11 December 1996, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. Borawski, J. (1995) ‘Partnership for Peace and Beyond’, International Affairs, Vol. 71, No. 2, pp. 233–46. Borawski, J. (1999) ‘Partnership for Peace “Plus”: Joint Responsibility for Euro– Atlantic Security’, Defence Analysis, Vol. 15, No. 3, pp. 323–32.


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Claes, W. (1995) ‘Speech by the Secretary General at the Munich Security Conference’, 3–5 February 1995, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. Darabos, N. (2008) ‘Implementing the Reform – Austrian Armed Forces 2010’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. 1, pp. 130–3. Doherty, R. (2000) ‘Partnership for Peace: The sine qua non for Irish Participation in Regional Peacekeeping’, International Peacekeeping, Vol. 7, No. 2 (Summer 2000), pp. 63–82. Eliasson, J. (1996) ‘Statement by State Secretary for Foreign Affairs of Sweden, Mr Jan Eliasson’, 11 December 1996, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. Entacher, E. (2006) ‘The Army’s Evolution within the Transatlantic Context’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. 1, pp. 24–6. Epstein, R. A. (2005) ‘NATO Enlargement and the Spread of Democracy: Evidence and Expectations’, Security Studies, Vol. 14, No. 1, pp. 63–105. Ericsson, J. (2004) ‘Undertake New Threats and Challenges’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. V, pp. 218–19. Ferreira-Pereira, L. C. (2006) ‘Inside the Fence but Outside the Walls: Austria, Finland and Sweden in the Post-Cold War Security Architecture’, Cooperation and Conflict, Vol. 41, No. 1, pp. 99–122. Forsberg, T. and Vaahtoranta, T. (2001) ‘Paradoxes of Finland’s and Sweden’s Post-Neutrality’, European Security, Vol. 10, No. 1, pp. 68–93. Frühling, S. and Schreer, B. (2010) ‘Creating the Next Generation of NATO Partnerships’, The RUSI Journal, Vol. 155, No. 1, pp. 52–7. Goetschel, L. (1999) ‘Neutrality, a Really Dead Concept?’, Cooperation and Conflict, Vol. 34, No. 2, pp. 115–39. Grenstad, A. (2006) ‘Deal with Known and Unknown Situations’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. II, pp. 122–7. Groves, Jr., J. R. (1999) ‘PfP and the State Partnership Program: Fostering Engagement and Progress’, Parameters, Vol. 29, No. 1, pp. 43–54. Hendrickson, R. C. (2007) ‘Sweden’s Partnership with NATO’, NATO Review, Autumn issue. Horgan, J. (1999) ‘Ireland & NATO: Dublin to Enlist?’, Commonweal, 26 February 1999. Häkämies, J. (2008) ‘A Two-Way Street Cooperation’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. I, pp. 134–7. Höfler, G. (2008) ‘The Reform Process of the Austrian Armed Forces’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. II, pp. 8–13. Kaskela, J. (2006) ‘Solid National Defence, Improved Interagency Support and State-of-the-art Crisis Management’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. III, pp. 76–9. Kihl, J. (2005) ‘Network Based Defence from a Swedish Viewpoint’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. 1, pp. 92–3. Maltese Parliament (2008) ‘Draft Individual Partnership Program of Malta for Partnership for Peace (PfP) for 2008–09’, http://www.parliament.gov.mt (home page), date accessed 10 February 2010.


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Moran, M. (1996) ‘Neutral Ireland Eyes NATO Partnership, and En End to an Era’, Christian Science Monitor, Vol. 88, No. 9, 92, p. 6. NATO (1994a) ‘NATO Promotes Technology Transfer’, 18 July 1994, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1994b) ‘Exercise Cooperative Venture 94’, 28 September 1994, http:// www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1994c) ‘NACC/PfP Workshop on Materiel, Technical and Operation Standardization’, 8 December 1994, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1995) ‘Meeting of the NATO Committee on the Challenges of Modern Society (CCMS) with Cooperation Partners’, 26 April 1995, http://www. nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1996a) ‘PfP Workshop on the Use of Military and Civil Defence Assets (MCDA) in Disaster Relief’, 8 May 1996, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1996b) ‘PfP Seminar on the Conversion and Use of Civil Aircraft for Aeromedical Evacuation to be held in Stockholm Sweden, 1–3 July 1996’, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1996c) ‘Civil Emergency Planning Seminar with Co-Operation Partners’, 18 November 1996, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (1997) ‘Exchange of Radiation Information Exercise Intex 97’, http:// www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 2 February 2010. NATO (2008) ‘Strategic Airlift Capability: A Key Capability for the Alliance’, 27 November 2008, http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 30 March 2010. Newby, A. and Titley, G. (2003) ‘The “War on terror” and Non-alignment’, Peace Review, Vol. 15, No. 4, pp. 483–9. Oakes, G. (2003) ‘Max Weber on Value Rationality and Value Spheres’, Journal of Classical Sociology, Vol. 3, No. 1, pp. 27–45. Office of the Prime Minister (2008) ‘Statement by the Hon Lawrence Gonzi, Prime Minister at the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council’, Bucharest, Romania, 3 April 2008, http://www.opm.gov.mt (home page), date accessed 10 February 2010. Salonius-Pasternak, C. (ed.) (2007) From Protecting Some to Securing Many: NATO’s Journy from a Military Alliance to a Security Manager (Helsinki: The Finnish institute of International affairs). Schüssel, Wolfgang (1998) ‘Austrian Declaration’, Ministerial Meeting of the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council, 8 December 1998 http://www.nato.int (home page), date accessed 26 April 2010. Syrén, H. (2006) ‘The Transformation of the Swedish Armed Forces’, NATO’s Nations and Partners for Peace, No. III, pp. 114–17. Tunbridge, J. E. (2008) ‘Malta: Reclaiming the Naval Heritage?’, International Journal of Heritage Studies, Vol. 14, No. 5, pp. 449–66. Vassallo, R. (2008) ‘Malta Reapplies for Partnership for Peace’, Malta Today, 23 March 2008.


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Weber, M. (1947) The Theory of Social and Economic Organization, translated by A. M. Henderson and T. Parsons, edited with an introduction by T. Parsons (New York: The Free Press).

Interviews Interview 1 (civil servants from partner country, Brussels, 28 September 2009). Interview 2 (civil servants from partner country, Brussels, 29 September 2009). Interview 3 (NATO civil servant, Brussels, 30 September 2009). Interview 4 (NATO civil servants, Brussels, 30 September 2009). Interview 5 (Swedish civil servant, Stockholm, 5 October 2009). Interview 6 (Swedish civil servants, Stockholm, 19 October 2009).


7 Sweden and NATO – Partnership in the Shadow of Coalitions and Concepts Håkan Edström∗

NATO in the Swedish context When the Berlin Wall fell Sweden had no formal, defense-related, relations with the EC (European Communities) or NATO. Now, more than 20 years later, the EC has developed into a union (EU) with a proactive agenda on security and defense. Sweden has become a member of this union and has, in addition, entered into a partnership with NATO. Mindful of the EU membership, what is the utility of this partnership? This chapter focuses on how the Swedish partnership with NATO has developed and how it is likely to develop in the future. Sweden’s relations with NATO during the 1990s have been subjected to research by, among others, Ann-Sofie Dahl (1999) and Ulla Gudmundson (2000). How the relationship has developed after 11 September 2001 is, however, relatively unexplored. This circumstance can probably be explained by the fact that neither security policy nor NATO relations are to be found at the top tier of the Swedish political agenda. On the contrary, the partnership seems to be a political non-issue. Not a single reference to the partnership can be found in the programs of the seven parties represented in the Swedish parliament. Moreover, three of the seven parties do not even mention NATO. The remaining four parties can be categorized along a scale. At one extreme is the Left Party. This party perceives NATO as a threat. At the other extreme is the Liberal Party. This party seeks a prompt Swedish NATO membership. The Christian Democrats and the Moderate Party 131


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are positioned in between these extremes. The former envisions that ‘An open and close cooperation with NATO should be a natural part of Swedish security policy’ (Christian Democrats, 2001, p. 18). The latter is striving for membership but not at the same pace as the Liberal Party: The cooperation with NATO should be further developed and given more depth. A Swedish membership of NATO would improve our influence as well as our own security. Such a decision demands, however, a popular support and a broad parliamentary support. (Moderate Party, 2007, p. 31) The Moderate Party points to the cognitive remains of the former neutrality-doctrine. A Swedish NATO membership requires not only approval from the citizens but also support from a majority in the parliament. Since it is unlikely that one party will obtain such a majority in the foreseeable future, it is more relevant to analyze how different coalitions might design their policy. The main purpose of this chapter is to outline the major alternatives to Swedish NATO policy for the future. Policy formulation on security matters, including NATO relations, does not only consider domestic factors, developments within NATO might also influence the design. Hence a secondary purpose of this chapter is to highlight how the outcome of NATO’s strategic considerations may affect the organization’s external relationships, exemplified with its partnership with Sweden. The chapter continues with an analysis of the Swedish parliamentary context. The section presents the past Swedish views on the utility. In the subsequent section an analysis of the NATO strategic choices is presented. In the fourth section, two alternative Swedish NATO policies are outlined. In the last section, conclusions related to the Swedish views on future utility are drawn.

The parliamentary context When the Berlin Wall fell Sweden had a Social Democratic (S) minority cabinet. There was no concerted opposition. The situation provided the S-Cabinet with opportunities to seek support not only from the Left Party, but also from any of the non-socialistic (nS)


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parties or the independent Green Party. After the election in 1991, a centre-right minority cabinet took office. The Green Party lost all its mandates while two new parties won representation: the non-socialistic Christian Democrats and populist New Democratic Party (NDP). The latter came to act as a passive supporter to the nS-Cabinet. After the elections in 1994, NDP lost its relevance whereas the Green Party regained representation. The Social Democrats could form a minority cabinet with support from the ex-Communists in the Left Party. In the area of security politics, however, the S-Cabinet chose to cooperate with the non-socialistic Centre Party. The 1998 elections led to a new parliamentary situation in Sweden. The Green Party gained a pivotal role since none of the previous cabinet alternatives won enough support to form a majority. The Social Democrats achieved consensus with the Left Party and the Green Party and formed a minority cabinet. Security policy was not, however, included in the cooperation. Since the Centre Party no longer supported the Social Democrats, security issues became an open question. The 2002 election did not change the situation. Ahead of the election in 2006, the four non-socialistic parties agreed on a common manifesto. Previously, such a platform had only been presented after the election. The initiative might have contributed to the first majority cabinet since 1981. Inspired by the success of the centre-right coalition, the Social Democrats joined forces with the Left Party and the Green Party and established a red-green coalition. This indicates that Sweden will be governed by a majority cabinet, at least until 2014, unless the Sweden Democrats hold the balance.1 The question is how the alternatives, that is the two coalitions, will formulate their respective NATO policies. At least three important methodological aspects – time, actors, and arguments – have to be taken into account before conducting the examination. The Swedish entry into the EU took place in the mid-1990s, that is concurrent to the establishment of the partnership. The lack of experience that characterized the political debate on the membership in the 1990s has today been replaced by a more nuanced discussion. My interpretation is that the situation is similar with regard to the partnership. The NATO partnership is not, however, being debated to the same extent as EU membership. The rhetorical development is, hence, not that obvious, but is nevertheless partly justifies my omission of the 1990s as a period of study.


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More importantly, the international relations changed significantly after the events in September 2001. Another factor considered is the existing research. As mentioned, the 1990s has been object of research while the period 2002–09 remains relatively unexplored. Since the coalitions consist of several parties, and since the NATO policies of the two coalitions have not taken shape yet, the main actors are considered to be the individual parties. The red-green cabinet in Norway indicates that the parties, while in opposition, adopted a strong rhetorical position when NATO was debated. Once in office, the argumentation was more nuanced. Despite this observation I intend to include all statements in the empirical material. The main argument for this standpoint is my assumption that the coalitions are, to some degree, bound by all statements. The statements, in other words, frame the freedom of action in designing the NATO policy. These three overarching considerations determine the quest for empirical material. In addition to the party programs, I have explored the debate in parliament and protocols from the party conventions. Furthermore, I have studied the NATO reports presented by the cabinet to the parliament in 2004 and 2009. Finally, I have studied the Individual Partnership Program (IPP) decided by the cabinet in 2003, 2005, 2007, and 2009. In addition to the text analysis, I have carried out interviews with spokespersons for security politics of all parties. The analysis generated extensive results. For the purpose of this chapter the presentation is limited when it comes to the result of the first step of the analysis. Each of the parties’ approach to the partnership has been categorized. A model introduced by Niklas Eklund in his study of the Swedish EU membership (Eklund, 2005, pp. 32–41) is applied to categorize the findings. I approached the question of utility by studying how the parties argue for the necessity and the desirability of the partnership. It turned out that the parties’ argumentation in the written material does not always make a distinction between partnership and membership. This finding underlines the importance of using interviews. Figure 7.1 below reflects the outcome of this first step. The views in the figure above serve as an introduction to the next section in which the past argumentation is presented. The presentation follows the structure used by the cabinet in its reports to parliament in 2004 and 2009.


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hhhh hhhNECESSITY Yes hhh DESIRABILITY hh h Yes

Moderate Party, Liberal Party, Centre Party, Christ. Democrats

No

Social Democrats

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No

Left Party, Green Party

Figure 7.1 Views of the NATO partnership in the Swedish parliament: the four non-socialistic parties are enthusiastic, the Social Democrats’ pragmatic, and the two other red-green parties skeptical

The red-green coalition Sweden’s participation in the EAPC and subsequently PfP was, according to the previous S-Cabinet, based on the principles of military non-alignment. The S-Cabinet clarified that the partnership should not be seen as a precursor for NATO membership. The most fundamental national security interest, which the S-Cabinet considered to have met with the partnership, was to increase the Swedish influence in NATO (S-Cabinet, 2004, p. 3). There is, however, an important difference between the Social Democrats’ reference to non-alignment and the Left Party’s demands of neutrality. Different starting points for the considerations have impact on the conditions for the partnership. The Left Party, for example, expressed demands for an independent Swedish security policy, including an immediate withdrawal from the PfP cooperation (Left Party 2008/09: U17). To be or not to be a partner seems to be the crucial question. Indeed, this fundamental consideration eclipses the subordinate aspects discussed below. NATO-led operations The previous S-Cabinet played down NATO’s specific importance in international operations. Instead, the general relevance of regional organizations was emphasized. The experience from international missions was considered to contribute in developing the capability of the Swedish Armed Forces (SAF) to participate in international operations, regardless of which organization was providing the framework (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 10–11). In opposition, the Social Democrats argued slightly differently. The reason why NATO was given the task from the UN to provide the


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command structure depends, according the party, on NATO’s ability to lead complex operations. Sweden’s cooperation with NATO is thereby closely linked to the UN and hence important (Social Democrats 2008/09: U18, U349). The party has an ambition to reduce SAF troops abroad. It also strives to balance the participation in UN-, EU-, and NATO-led operations. A Swedish participation in an Article 5-based NATO operation is, according to the spokesperson Anders Karlsson, considered to be completely out of the question (Karlsson, 2009). In contrast to the Social Democrats, the Left Party sees no merit in participating in NATO-led operations. In its extreme, the party’s arguments seem to be based more on a negative approach to the USA than on NATO skepticism as such. The party relates, for example, the Swedish participation in ISAF to the American presence in Afghanistan and Iraq. Sweden should, therefore, according to the party, immediately withdraw its military contribution to ISAF (Left Party 2006/07: U226). The party’s spokesperson, Gunilla Wahlén, is arguing that Sweden should not provide troops to NATO-led operations at all (Wahlén, 2009). The Green Party holds a position between its coalition partners. The party argues that undisputed facts, showing the necessity for Sweden to cooperate with NATO, have to be presented before Sweden should even consider providing troops to NATO-led operations. A prerequisite is, according the party, that the roles of all involved organizations are clarified. If this requirement is not met, Swedish troops should not be deployed under NATO’s command. Regarding ISAF, the party argues that unless the incentives for cooperating with NATO are better explained, it may be necessary to withdraw the Swedish forces. The Green Party has elements of negative approach to the USA in its argumentation. ISAF is, for example, considered to be a part of America’s war in Afghanistan as a whole. According to the spokesperson, Peter Rådberg, it is doubtful if the American war in 2009 can be justified by a UN mandate from 2001. If Sweden cannot influence US warfare to be more defensive in nature, Sweden should not, according the party, provide troops to ISAF (Green Party 2007/08: U367; Rådberg, 2009). Transparency and influence The previous S-Cabinet stressed the importance of transparency and influence in NATO activities to which Sweden contributes.


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The Swedish mission to NATO was, in this regard, considered to be important. The S-Cabinet also observed the possibility of gaining transparency by using Partner Staff Elements (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 11–12). In opposition, the Social Democrats continue to argue for more transparency and influence. The party also emphasizes the need for access to intelligence and information. At the same time the party argues that since the defense budget is tight, it may be necessary to put additional economic restrictions upon the delegation and the Staff Elements (Social Democrats 2008/09: U18; Social Democrats 2008/09: U349). If the Social Democrats seem to be ambivalent, the Left Party is absolutely clear in its position. According to this party there is no need for a Swedish mission to NATO headquarters. These efforts should, therefore, be immediately phased out. This position might be related to the fact that the party does not acknowledge a need for transparency, influence, and sharing of intelligence and information (Left Party 2008/09: U17). The Green Party is not as dogmatic as the Left Party. This party argues that this part of the cooperation is not necessary from a military perspective and warns that it can ultimately lead to negative consequences for the SAF, not least in financial terms (Green Party 2008/09: U19). Defense planning, capability development, and interoperability The previous S-Cabinet argued that cooperation in defense planning will help ensuring the interoperability the SAF need to participate in international operations. An important second-order effect of the planning and review process (PARP) was, according to the S-Cabinet, increased transparency and confidence building (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 12–14). In opposition, the Social Democrats argue for Sweden’s right to formulate its defense policy on the basis of its own security assessments. A closer NATO cooperation might force Sweden to take undesirable aspects into considerations. The party nevertheless emphasizes the necessity of the SAF to become increasingly interoperable with NATO standards (Social Democrats 2008/09: U18; Social Democrats 2008/09: Fö293). Karlsson underscores the fact that the importance of the cooperation in these respects is based on Sweden’s non-alignment (Karlsson, 2009).


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Similarly to the Social Democrats, the Left Party focuses on the non-alignment policy. In order to make the policy credible, Sweden has to ensure, according to this party, that any speculation of a Swedish NATO accession must appear to be unfounded. Accordingly, the party opposes any military cooperation agreements that extend over long time periods and argues that Sweden should phase out general cooperation within the PfP and all specific cooperation such as the strategic airlift capacity (Left Party 2002/03: U249, 2008/09: U17). Wahlén claims that the party wants to phase out this part of the cooperation entirely. For the sake of Swedish defense industry, however, this has to be carried out in an orderly manner (Wahlén, 2009). The Green Party has a slightly different point of departure in its argumentation than its coalition partners. The party warns that this part of the cooperation can cause unintended political consequences and argues that the reaction of Russia has to be taken into account (Green Party 2008/09: U19; Rådberg, 2009). Exercises and training The role of NATO in international cooperation in exercises and training was played down by the previous S-Cabinet. The main purpose of the cooperation was said to be increased international maritime and aviation safety. The S-Cabinet stressed Sweden’s need for high interoperability. Cooperation in exercises and training were considered to address these needs. The S-Cabinet gave general approval to SAF to take part in activities open to all PfP countries. An important reservation was, however, added: the activities must be consistent with the non-alignment policy and the participation has in each case to be approved by the cabinet (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 14–15). Karlsson stresses that Sweden, according to the Social Democrats, should only participate in these activities when it is beneficial to the national interests and when Sweden can influence NATO policy (Karlsson, 2009). The coalition partners of the Social Democrats are much more critical of the collaboration. The Green Party argues that exercises can be linked to specific political issues. An example of one such issue is related to the natural resources in the Arctic. The signals various exercises send to Russia should, according to the Green Party, not


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be underestimated (Green Party 2008/09: U19). Rådberg argues that Sweden can participate in exercises with NATO, but only outside Sweden. NATO should not, according to Rådberg, be authorized to conduct exercises and training on Swedish territory (Rådberg, 2009). The Left Party demands that Sweden should not approve NATO exercises on Swedish territory (Left Party 2008/09: U17). Wahlén goes one step further and claims that Sweden should not participate in any of NATO’s exercise and training activities whatsoever (Wahlén, 2009). Dialogue and consultations The previous S-Cabinet considered the EAPC to be an important forum for dialogue between NATO and partner countries. The wide agenda of the EAPC contributes, according the S-Cabinet, to upholding the current Euro-Atlantic security system. Not least, Russian participation was considered to be of particular Swedish interest (S-Cabinet, 2004, p. 15). In opposition, the Social Democrats argue that the non-alignment gives Sweden credibility in global disarmament efforts. The party observes that the use of nuclear weapons still is a part of certain NATO countries’ defense doctrines. The party sees the EAPC as an opportunity to, through dialogue, bring claims for the revision of some NATO members’ defense doctrines (Social Democrats 2008/09: U18; Karlsson, 2009). The Green Party holds a similar position to the Social Democrats. Since the dialogues and consultations provide bridges to include Russia in the European family, Rådberg prefers to maintain this part of the cooperation (Rådberg, 2009). In addition, the party sees participation in the EAPC as an opportunity to bring up its criticism of the American offensive warfare in Afghanistan (Green Party 2007/08: U367). The Left Party also sees the Swedish participation in the EAPC as a venue to articulate its criticism of NATO’s nuclear strategy and how it addresses disarmament issues (Left Party 2006/07: U246, 2007/08: U203, 2008/09: U254). Wahlén goes, however, one step further and argues that this part of the cooperation should continue until, through dialogue, it is agreed that NATO is no longer needed, and that thereafter the organization should be replaced by new agreements between Europe and Russia (Wahlén, 2009).


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Security support The previous S-Cabinet strived to intensify cooperation with NATO in areas in which the organization’s unique competence could be used in order to promote security. As an example, the S-Cabinet mentioned NATO’s trust funds, and the destruction of mines and conversion of former military bases to civilian use. The S-Cabinet also mentioned that Sweden annually contributes to this part of the cooperation by arranging security support exercises, which are open to all EAPC-partners (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 16, 20). In opposition, the Social Democrats argue that Sweden, through its EU membership, is part of a political alliance that has significantly more tools at its disposal than NATO. When it comes to meeting the new threats and to providing security support the EU is, according to the party, a more relevant actor (Social Democrats, 2008/09: U18). Karlsson argues that this kind of activity should be carried out by the UN. Cooperation with NATO does not, however, necessarily have to be excluded (Karlsson, 2009). Both the Left Party and the Green Party are, however, striving to phase out this part of the cooperation completely (Rådberg, 2009; Wahlén, 2009). Civil emergency planning The previous S-Cabinet argued that civil contingency planning is an important part of the cooperation. Civil collaboration is, according the S-Cabinet, the part of the cooperation where partner countries are most integrated and have the greatest opportunity to influence. The S-Cabinet also highlighted the cooperation between the UN and NATO and exemplified the statement with UN/OCHA’s staff at EAPC’s Disaster Response Coordination Centre. In addition, the S-Cabinet pointed out that NATO cooperates with the EU and regularly invites other organizations to seminars and exercises (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 16–17). Karlsson argues that, as far as Sweden is concerned, it is more natural to cooperate in the EU context and with the UN. NATO might, however, also have a role to play in these kind of activities (Karlsson, 2009). The coalition partners do not agree. According to them, this part of the cooperation should be phased out (Rådberg, 2009; Wahlén, 2009).


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Personnel at NATO HQs The previous S-Cabinet pointed out that the Swedish mission to NATO was part of the embassy to Belgium. The S-Cabinet described the tasks of the delegation as follows: to represent Sweden in different EAPC-committees, maintain contacts with the Secretariat concerning the Swedish contribution to NATO-led operations, and monitor the development within NATO. The S-Cabinet welcomed NATO’s offer to place Swedish officers at NATO headquarters. The S-Cabinet drew attention to the several occasions when Sweden had sent personnel to serve at the International Secretariat of the NATO headquarters (S-Cabinet, 2004, pp. 17–18). Karlsson argues that the Social Democrats consider it to be valuable to send Swedish personnel to NATO headquarters when, by so doing, this could be linked to Swedish interests. He underscores that the importance of this cooperation is being based on the Swedish military non-alignment (Karlsson, 2009). Rådberg argues that the Green Party does not exclude this kind of cooperation with NATO. Since the activities have to be coordinated, the current activities of the delegation seem to be reasonable. The party wants, however, to phase out the Staff Element part of the cooperation (Rådberg, 2009). In contrast to its coalition partners, the Left Party sees no merit whatsoever in this part of the cooperation. The party argues that the Swedish delegations to all NATO headquarters immediately should be withdrawn (Left Party 2008/09: U17; Wahlén, 2009). The centre-right coalition Providing resources for international crisis and disaster management is, according to the previous nS-Cabinet, a central Swedish interest. The nS-Cabinet considered NATO to be the organization with the best capability to coordinate and implement these efforts. Cooperation with NATO is, the nS-Cabinet argued, fundamental to developing the capabilities of the SAF. To deepen the partnership with NATO is hence, according to the nS-Cabinet, a Swedish interest in itself (nS-Cabinet, 2009, p. 22). NATO-led operations The main argument for the Swedish participation in NATO-led operations is, according to the previous nS-Cabinet, the need for further


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development of the SAF. The nS-Cabinet recalled that the parliament, in accordance with the nS-Cabinet’s proposal, had decided to increase the maximum size of the Swedish contribution to ISAF from 600 to 855 people (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 11–13). The Moderate Party argues that since the EU lacks the resources to act in more demanding peace-support operations, it warrants Swedish participation in operations under NATO’s command. With NATO, the party continues, comes the prerequisite to conduct peaceenforcement operations (Moderate Party 2002/03: U323, 2003/04: U208, 2007/08: U273). The Moderate Party‘s spokesperson, Karin Enström, believes that the partnership is fundamental for conceptual interoperability. She argues that the cooperation already has contributed to the development of the SAF, especially when it comes to the planning and evaluation of operations (Enström, 2009). When developing the SAF, the point of departure should be, according the Liberal Party, to establish closer military cooperation with NATO. Participation in NATO-led operations should, for example, not be restricted to activities outside Europe. The party considers intelligence operations in Sweden’s neighborhood as being of particular interest (Liberal Party 2003/04: U20, U329). The Liberal Party’s spokesperson, Allan Widman, is not comfortable with the developments of the partnership in these aspects. He argues that Sweden risks ending up in a dependency without reciprocity (Widman, 2009). The spokesperson of the Christian Democrats, Else-Marie Lindgren, does not exclude a Swedish participation in NATO-led operations, even without a UN mandate. Neither does she exclude a Swedish contribution to operations carried out within the framework of Article 5 (Lindgren, 2009). The Centre Party does not go quite as far as Article 5. According to the party’s spokesperson, Staffan Danielsson, situations that require an immediate response might arise and awaiting a UN resolution might, therefore, not be the proper action. He stresses that a UN mandate is preferable, but not a requirement, for Swedish participation in NATO-led operations (Danielsson, 2009). Transparency and influence The previous nS-Cabinet argued that the safety and efficiency of SAF units participating in NATO-led operations would increase if Sweden had the same influence and access to information as the participating NATO countries. In order to improve transparency and to gain


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further influence the nS-Cabinet mentioned the importance of giving Swedish officers posted to NATO headquarters better access to information, and that more positions in NATO’s command structure should be opened for Sweden (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 13–14, 23). The Liberal Party considers the Swedish representation at NATO headquarters to be important for transparency in the activities in which Sweden participates. The party argues that Sweden, in terms of volume and quality, contributes more extensively to NATO-led crisis management than some NATO members. Hence, the party argues, increased influence is a reasonable Swedish demand (Liberal Party 2002/03: U234, 2003/04: U329). The Moderate Party considers that cooperation with NATO is a prerequisite for the strengthening of Sweden’s international influence (Moderate Party 2002/03: U323). Defense planning, capability development, and interoperability The main argument for the Swedish participation in PARP is that, according to the previous nS-Cabinet, the planning mechanism provides a foundation for the development of military capabilities and interoperability. The nS-Cabinet stressed in particular the rapid reaction capacity and staff methodology and regrets that Sweden, as a partner, is not in a position to affect the design of the common standards that are a prerequisite to achieve interoperability. To compensate, the nS-Cabinet intended to let the SAF participate actively in all committees associated with the research and armaments cooperation. Air Situation Data Exchange and Strategic Airlift Capability are two tangible examples mentioned by the nS-Cabinet (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 14–17, 22–3). The Moderate Party would like to include counterterrorism and nuclear proliferation in the defense planning cooperation. The party argues that NATO remains relevant in the management of traditional threats and that Sweden cannot remain outside this part of the cooperation. The party points out the situation in the Baltic region and stresses that a Swedish participation in NATO’s defense planning would strengthen Sweden’s security. The party does not exclude the possibility that Sweden might be exposed to a military attack. The transformation of the SAF has, according to the party, led to a need of allies in case of an attack. Sweden must also consider, the party continues, to take its part of the responsibility for other countries’ security and freedom. It is therefore high time, the party argues, that a


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wide-ranging review of the Swedish cooperation with NATO is carried out (Moderate Party 2002/03: U323, 2008/09: U230, U279). Enström argues that Article 5 should not prevent Sweden from participating in NATO’s defense planning (Enström, 2009). The Liberal Party also stresses the role of NATO in the Baltic region. The party does not exclude the risks of Sweden being subject to a military attack and argues that participation in NATO’s defense planning would save Sweden from military pressure and threats. The party finds a structural coordination of Sweden and individual NATO members to be desirable, in particular regarding border surveillance. Moreover, Sweden should, according to the party, strengthen the cooperation with Norway and Denmark. In addition, the party argues for increased cooperation between Sweden and individual NATO countries in areas such as procurement and defenserelated international trade (Liberal Party 2003/04: U20, Fö243, U329). Widman warns that Sweden, with regard to capability development, has become dependent on NATO without being compensated with guarantees from NATO (Widman, 2009). According to Lindgren, the Christian Democrats prefer to develop the cooperation and argue that a strengthened cooperation would be of mutual benefit (Lindgren, 2009). The Centre Party holds a similar position and considers, according to Danielsson, this part of the partnership to be important. He argues that, not least for the Swedish defense industry, the cooperation has to be further developed (Danielsson, 2009). Exercises and training The previous nS-Cabinet viewed international exercises as an important component of capability development. In addition, exercises are, according to the nS-Cabinet, of significant value in the preparations for operations. Exercises also help to maintain readiness of individual units. Hence, the nS-Cabinet argued, participation in NATO’s exercises is important for the overall performance of the SAF. Sweden has, through the cooperation, the nS-Cabinet continued, access to a large number of relevant courses (nS-Cabinet, 2009, p. 17). The Moderate Party argues that since the EU does not provide this kind of venue, Sweden has to participate in military exercises under the leadership of NATO (Moderate Party 2007/08: U273). Enström would like to develop this part of the cooperation. According to her,


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the party sees NATO exercises on Swedish territory as an opportunity to improve Sweden’s ability to receive international support in a time of need (Enström, 2009). The Liberal Party agrees with these positions but includes, in addition, other aspects. An enhanced cooperation with NATO regarding exercises and training would, according to the party, provide important economic benefits for the SAF (Liberal Party 2003/04: Fö243; Widman, 2009). The Christian Democrats agree with the Liberal Party’s conclusions. Lindgren stresses the economic limitations and considers it necessary to prioritize Swedish participation in NATO exercises (Lindgren, 2009). In contrast to its coalition partners, the Centre Party seems to consider this part of the cooperation solely from NATO’s perspective. According to Danielsson, the party also wants to develop this cooperation. He considers it to be positive if Sweden could offer NATO good conditions for exercises and training on Swedish territory (Danielsson, 2009). Dialogue and consultations According to the previous nS-Cabinet, specific issues such as combating human trafficking and terrorism were central to the Swedish dialogue with NATO. In addition, projects to combat corruption in the participating countries’ armed forces were considered to be important. The nS-Cabinet welcomed the mutual efforts to reform former Communist countries in Sweden’s neighborhood. The nS-Cabinet considered this part of the cooperation to be vital in promoting Swedish interest to further develop the dialogue between the EU and NATO (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 18, 23). The Moderate Party warns that Sweden could be isolated if it decides not to participate in the security policy dialogue with NATO. It is in Sweden’s national interest, according to the party, to participate in all parts of the European security cooperation. The party considers NATO and the EU as the main actors in order to ensure stability and peace in Europe. It is therefore important, the party argues, to coordinate the two organizations through dialogue and consultations (Moderate Party 2002/03: U323, 2003/04: U208, U268; Enström, 2009). Both the Christian Democrats and the Centre Party hold similar positions. According to Lindgren, the Christian Democrats would like to develop this part of cooperation, particularly when it comes to non-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (Lindgren, 2009).


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The Centre Party considers, according to Danielsson, that cooperation is providing Sweden with an additional forum (Danielsson, 2009). The Liberal Party holds a more pro-American position. The party argues that Sweden should not be an isolationist. Dialogue and consultations with NATO are considered to be very important. The party believes that international security cannot be built without the US. Sweden must, therefore, according this party, participate in enhanced transatlantic cooperation. The party warns that unilateral European defense cooperation may weaken transatlantic relations. It stresses the importance of dialogue and consultations to coordinate EU and NATO activities (Liberal Party 2002/03: Fö240, U234; Widman, 2009). Security support The previous nS-Cabinet gave priority to cooperation on security assistance to Ukraine and Georgia as well as to countries in the Balkans. The nS-Cabinet believed cooperation should continue in those cases where it is considered to promote Swedish interests and when NATO’s special competence can be of benefit (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 18, 23). In this area of cooperation, the Moderate Party gives priority to the Baltic region. The party seems, however, to be more interested in the prospect of receiving support as opposed to providing it to others (Moderate Party 2002/03: U323, 2008/09: U279). Enström warns that this part of the cooperation can lead to shortage in staff personnel. She therefore suggests determining Swedish participation on a case by case basis (Enström, 2009). The Liberal Party is also concerned about the situation in the Baltic region and stresses the desirability of Sweden being included in NATO’s security guarantees. The party includes all types of military threats in its standpoint (Liberal Party 2003/04: U20; Widman, 2009). The other two non-socialist parties hold a less realistic position. The Christian Democrats would, according to Lindgren, like to develop the cooperation. She stresses the importance of continuously coordinating Sweden’s participation in EU and NATO efforts to get the optimal effect (Lindgren, 2009). The Centre Party is even more modest in its ambitions. The party prefers, according to Danielsson, to maintain the cooperation at the current level (Danielsson, 2009).


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Civil emergency planning The previous nS-Cabinet pointed out the cooperation in the Senior Civil Emergency Planning Committee (SCEPC). The modern threats imply, according to the nS-Cabinet, an increased importance of the cooperation. The SCEPC’s competence in cross-sector issues such as critical infrastructure protection is, according to the nS-Cabinet, crucial for success. In addition, the nS-Cabinet considers deepened cooperation on transport, health care, food, industrial, civil protection, and telecom issues to be desirable (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 18–19). The Moderate Party argues that the current global situation has made it necessary for Sweden to cooperate with NATO in civil matters. To prevent human trafficking and terrorism and to conduct evacuation operations after natural disasters are, according to the party, examples of such cooperation (Moderate Party 2007/08: U273). The Christian Democrats have a similar opinion. The party welcomes, according to Lindgren, NATO’s efforts and would like to develop the cooperation in this area (Lindgren, 2009). The Liberal Party seems to be less convinced of the merits of NATO. Widman says that the party considers it to be more natural to cooperate with the EU in these matters. The party does not, however, preclude cooperation with NATO (Widman, 2009). The Centre Party is even less ambitious. Danielsson says that the party prefers to maintain the cooperation on current level (Danielsson, 2009). Personnel at NATO HQs The previous nS-Cabinet also pointed out that Sweden’s mission to NATO has been reorganized, from being a part of Sweden’s embassy to Belgium to become an independent authority. In addition, the nS-Cabinet presented, in relatively detailed terms, the three PfP-programs: Partnership Staff Elements (PSE), PfP internship, and National Representation, and the options each of them brings. The nS-Cabinet stipulated an enhanced Swedish national representation and the use of voluntary national contributions (nS-Cabinet, 2009, pp. 9, 20–1). According to the Moderate Party, the intention of this part of the cooperation should be to increase the efficiency of the SAF and, at the same time, bolster security (Moderate Party 2008/09: U279). Enström explains that the party wants to develop this part of the


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cooperation. She interprets the reorganization of Sweden’s mission to NATO as an indication of Sweden’s increased ambition to develop the partnership. Since the implementation of NATO’s staff methodology is important to the SAF, Enström argues, so is Swedish presence in both allied command operations (ACO) and allied command transformation (ACT) (Enström, 2009). The Liberal Party holds a similar position. According to Widman, the importance of Sweden’s relations to NATO justifies the reorganization of Sweden’s mission to NATO. The party finds it desirable to increase the number of Swedish personnel in NATO’s military staffs. The party welcomes the opportunity for Swedish officers to gain experience from higher staffs and in senior positions (Liberal Party 2002/03: U234, 2003/04: Fö243, U329; Widman, 2009). Both the Centre Party and the Christian Democrats agree with their partners’ conclusions and want to develop these activities. They also consider it desirable to increase the number of Swedish personnel embedded and in high ranks in NATO’s hierarchy (Danielsson, 2009; Lindgren, 2009).

NATO’s strategic choices NATO is facing several strategic choices for the future. Most of them are addressed in the process of formulating and adopting a new strategic concept. The considerations below are limited to this area. NATO’s strategic concept is a document that identifies the main features of the security policy environment and specifies how NATO intends to respond to the challenges. The concept is, in other words, providing guidance for the continued political and military development. The extant concept for this study was agreed in 1999. During the NATO summit in April 2009 it was decided that the concept of 1999 would be replaced with a new concept to be agreed during the summit in the fall of 2010 (NATO, 2009). NATO’s concept of 1999 highlights partnership as an important aspect in the Alliance. It points out certain areas of cooperation that are considered of particular importance for the development of the various partnerships. These areas are very similar to the aspects addressed in the previous section (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 10, 50). Since the concept of 2010 is not agreed in the time of writing of this book, it cannot be used as point of departure for the analysis.


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I have instead used the concept of 1999 with support of secondary sources. The question is what secondary sources are most relevant to use in this context. What is actually being said about the new concept? I consider the NATO library’s bibliography as helpful to identify recently published, relevant documents.2 I limited my analysis to two documents. The first document was the Washington NATO Project (WNP). The WNP was launched in late 2008 and was a collaboration by four different American think tanks. It was supported by NATO’s Public Diplomacy Division, and was intended to initiate a debate on NATO’s future prior to the Alliance’s 60-year anniversary in April 2009. The project presented its final report in February 2009 and pointed out a number of key areas of development. The latter document is an article, published in Survival in the autumn of 2009, by the research director at the NATO Defense College, Dr. Karl-Heinz Kamp. Kamp points to a number of important issues that he believes the new concept should address. Both these documents have been drafted with links to the NATO organization, thus ensuring their validity. Furthermore, the documents are together considered to be adequate to serve the purpose of this section, that is, to highlight how the outcome of NATO’s strategic considerations can affect the Swedish NATO policy. Key areas for Sweden – and NATO? The similarity between the partnership areas highlighted in the 1999 concept and the aspects of cooperation pointed out by the Swedish cabinets allows this section to be structured the same way as the previous one. Operations The strategic concept of 1999 balances between Article 5 and nonArticle 5 operations. The concept underlines that the former plays the primary role while partners are included mainly in the latter (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 31, 41, 43, 47, 49, 52, 53, 61). The WNP argues that the Alliance in practice has come to focus on ‘out of area’ operations. The project calls for a better balance between ‘missions home’ and ‘missions away’ (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 15, 21–3). Karl-Heinz Kamp points to Article 5 as a main area to be developed in the new strategic concept: ‘Members have yet to agree on [ . . . ] how to balance the NATO role in defending NATO territory with its role in providing


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security, particularly through expeditionary operations and special missions far beyond NATO’s borders’ (Kamp, 2009, pp. 23–4). Transparency and influence The 1999 concept stresses that one of the objectives of the partnerships is ‘increasing transparency.’ The influence of the partners is not, however, mentioned at all (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 10, 34, 35, 50). The WNP argues that the NATO–EU relations are of special importance. The EU non-NATO members, implicitly including Sweden, are singled out as particularly important partners. To improve transparency between the two organizations, the WNP suggests the creation of an EU–NATO Joint Operation Command. Three partners, including Sweden, should, according to the WNP, be prioritized regarding political influence. In addition, the WNP considers a modification of the consensus rule to be necessary. This suggestion is, however, not explicitly referenced to the precedent partner countries (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 32, 35–8, 40, 43). Dr. Kamp is more focused in his approach. He argues that ‘the amount of influence over the NATO decision-making that can or should be granted to Russia is disputed.’ He does not mention any other partner country with regards to transparency and influence (Kamp, 2009, p. 25). Defense planning, capability development, and interoperability The concept of 1999 emphasizes the need to include partners in these activities. Concerning individual partners’ ‘territorial integrity, political independence, or security’ the concept does not, however, offer any common defense planning (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 34, 35, 43, 49, 52, 61). The WNP calls for the creation of a joint NATO–EU Planning Staff to better coordinate joint defense planning and doctrinal development. In addition, the WNP calls for a joint force generation mechanism and a strong NATO–EU Capabilities Group to facilitate the capability development (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 26, 37–9, 44–6, 50). Karl-Heinz Kamp argues that there may be a need for common defense planning related to the member’s territorial defense. In addition, he suggests an option to plan for preemptive actions, the use of nuclear weapons, and the development of a missile-defense. Notably, Dr. Kamp does not elaborate on interoperability (Kamp, 2009, pp. 24–6).


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Exercises and training The strategic concept of 1999 mentions the necessity of NATO forces supporting partners in their preparation to participate in NATO-led operations. The concept points out the need for exercises and training, but the participation of partners is (for implicit reasons) limited to ‘appropriate areas’ (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 29, 41, 43, 49, 61). The WNP highlights the partnership between the EU and NATO, related to defense preparations. Training and exercises related to the defense against WMD are emphasized (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 26, 31, 37). Dr. Kamp does not exclude the need to carry out military exercises based on the territorial defense of NATO’s East European members. However, his analysis does not include considerations related to training (Kamp, 2009, p. 24). Dialogue and consultations The 1999 concept points out the importance of dialogue. Generally, the argumentation concerns the need of dialogue related to arms control, disarmament, and WMD-proliferation. More specifically, the need of dialogue and consultations is related to existing agreements such as CFE and START. The argumentation often connects to the various partnerships. The concept includes a pledge of consultation with individual partners that ‘perceives a direct threat’ (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 9, 10, 12, 26, 32–3). The WNP calls for a broader dialogue between the West and Russia. This includes both the NATO-related CFE, but also other issues such as the global financial crisis. NATO is also given a role in the revitalization of the OSCE. It is considered to be suitable for the Alliance to provide a forum for consultations regarding Crisis Prevention and Response (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 18–19, 33). Dr. Kamp is exclusively focusing on the NATO–Russia Council when it comes to dialogue and consultations (Kamp, 2009, p. 25). Security support The concept of 1999 is parsimonious on comments regarding security support. The few arguments to be found are related to arms control. Partner countries should, according the concept, be given a role in this context (NATO, 1999, paragraph 52). The WNP stresses the need to take lessons from the management of the Balkan conflict in the implementation of stabilization and reconstruction missions.


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Reorganizing the police forces and strengthening the rule of law are identified as prioritized areas of support. Cooperation between NATO and the EU is considered to be important (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 25, 34–5, 39, 42). Civil emergency planning The strategic concept of 1999 recognizes preparations to manage civil disasters and accidents as being of great importance. This includes the coordination of military and civilian resources. Although the argumentation touches upon partnerships, the activities seem to be solely an internal matter (NATO, 1999, paragraphs 34, 35, 60). The WNP contains a detailed argumentation on civil emergency planning. To ‘build societal resilience’ is considered to be one of the five main tasks for the transatlantic allies to manage through partnership. The scope of this task is extensive and includes the management of natural disasters. The EU and the ‘EU non-NATO’ countries are singled out as key partners. The WNP suggests the establishment of two joint NATO–EU bodies: Civil Emergency Planning Committee and Crisis Management Centre (Hamilton et al., 2009, pp. 9–10, 12, 24, 27–32, 38). Personnel at NATO HQs The 1999 concept does not mention the option for partners to assign personnel to NATO staffs. Neither is the partner countries’ missions to NATO mentioned. As aforementioned, the WNP suggests a variety of joint NATO–EU bodies. In addition, Sweden and other EU nonNATO countries are on several occasions mentioned as key partners. Although the assignment of partner countries’ personnel to NATO’s staffs is not mentioned explicitly, the argumentation implies that the presence of Swedish personnel within the NATO hierarchy is expected to increase. NATO’s future direction The argumentation indicates that NATO is facing a number of issues related to each of the areas mentioned in section 2. The future direction of the Alliance has most likely to balance between two extremes. On the one hand there is a club focusing solely on members. On the other hand there is a society focusing not only on members but also on partners and others (Figure 7.2).


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Club Operation

Society

Article 5

Non-Article 5

Home

Away

External Relations

Reluctant transparency

Influence sharing

Internal Decision-Making

Consensus

Majority

Planning and Exercises

Members only

Partners by invitation

Armed attack

Non-armed challenge

Capabilities

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Nuclear forces

Conventional forces

Solely military

Comprehensive approach

Dialogue and Consultations

Transatlantic

Global

Security Reform/Support

Driven by self-interests

Affiliated to the UN system

NATO Staffs

Members only

Open to partners

Figure 7.2 direction

Two possible extreme positions when it comes to NATO’s future

Each of these choices may impact on the development of the various partnerships. Consequently, Sweden’s relationship with NATO – and thus the Swedish NATO policy – is also considered to be affected by the strategic choices of the Alliance.

Swedish NATO policies for the future The red-green coalition will most likely focus on EAPCs as a tool to promote a pan-European security arrangement. The coalition’s view on the partnership as an instrument to protect the Euro-Atlantic security system will probably be played down considerably. A Swedish participation in a NATO-led operation must, with the red-green coalition in power, be based on international humanitarian law and a clear UN mandate. In addition, NATO subordination to UN will probably be required. Affiliation with separate US-led operations must be avoided. At an extreme, Swedish participation might be excluded if a separate American operation is going on in the same country as the NATO operation. The greater the emphasis on Article 5


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within NATO, the less likely a red-green coalition will be eager to participate. Although the Swedish emphasis of influence, transparency, and intelligence will remain with the red-green coalition in power, most of these needs will probably have to be met in other ways than through Swedish personnel deployed at NATO headquarters. The way around the problem might be an increased focus on the political level of the cooperation. As long as the partner countries’ influence in the EAPC/PfP decision-making processes does not improve, the coalition’s incentives for participation in NATO-led operations will continue to be low or even decrease. Hence, the arguments for transparency in military activities will also decrease. The least a more positive red-green approach to the partnership demands is probably NATO activities, not only pledges, in order to increase transparency and influence for partner countries. It is reasonable to assume that the overall adaptation to NATO standards will continue with the red-green coalition in power. Specific cooperation in strategic airlift capability might, however, be completely ruled out. The focus on non-alignment might, in addition, lead to demands from the Left Party and/or the Green Party to balance the international cooperation. The coalition may, in other words, try to exchange current cooperation with NATO for new agreements with Russia. If it proves to be financially advantageous for Sweden, the coalition will probably be positive regarding an improved NATO–EU cooperation on development. There are reasonable grounds for believing that Swedish participation in NATO exercises and training activities would be reduced by a red-green cabinet. NATO exercises on Swedish territory would probably be out of the question. The participation of the SAF in exercises outside Sweden cannot be excluded. Probably, however, compatibility with the non-alignment will be required. The red-green cabinet will most likely have to approve the participation in each individual case. Exercises based on territorial defense of Eastern Europe will probably be out of bounds. The cabinet’s decision will presumably be based on the consideration of Russian reaction. The relationship between NATO and Russia could hereby be indicative. Unlike most other areas of the partnership, it is reasonable to assume that Sweden’s participation could increase regarding dialogue and consultations with the red-green coalition in power. The content


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of these consultations might, however, be quite different to what NATO presumably expects. The coalition would probably focus on disarmament issues such as the CFE and START agreements. This probably requires, however, that NATO focuses on Europe and its relations with Russia. If NATO instead takes a more global approach, the coalition will most likely focus its efforts toward the UN. Sweden’s international cooperation on security support and civil contingency planning will, with a red-green cabinet, most likely be channeled through the UN and the EU. This applies regardless of the design of NATO’s new concept in these respects. With the red-green coalition in power, the Swedish delegation to NATO will probably lose its independent role. The responsibilities will most likely be regained by the Swedish embassy to Belgium. It is reasonable to assume that the presence of SAF personnel at NATO staffs is not compatible with the Left Party’s position. The numbers of Swedes serving at various staffs will, therefore, presumably be heavily decreased by a red-green cabinet. A NATO decision to limit the opportunities for partners to assign personnel to NATO staffs would probably be welcomed by the red-green coalition as it thereby would do away with a potential internal problem. With the centre-right coalition in power the Swedish contribution to NATO-led operations might not be limited to international crisis management. Presumably participation in NRF, intelligence operations, and other types of operational cooperation will be put on the agenda. At the same time the volume of the traditional cooperation might increase. Greater emphasis by NATO on Article 5 operations and on collective defense might even be welcomed by the coalition. The centre-right coalition considers political influence as a vital Swedish national interest. NATO is viewed as a mean, along with the EU, to ensure such coveted influence. An active Swedish participation in NATO-led operations is seen as a method to gain influence but creates at the same time new requirements of transparency. It is therefore reasonable to assume that Sweden’s efforts to assign SAF personnel at NATO’s staffs will increase with the coalition in power. More focus on EU–NATO relations and on measures to increase the transparency and influence by ‘EU non-NATO’ partners would certainly be welcomed by a centre-right cabinet. There are circumstances which indicate that the coalition wishes to participate in NATO’s defense planning beyond the frames of


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international operations outside Europe. This applies to operations similar to Article 5, where Sweden can be both the recipient and donor of military support. The centre-right coalition might initiate an extensive cooperation with individual NATO countries, in particular Norway and Denmark. This may lead to organization of common units and coordination of production as well as operational planning. Air and border surveillance will hence most likely be prioritized. In a broader range of NATO countries, the coalition could try to deepen the cooperation in certain specific areas. Strategic air transport capability represents an already concluded project. Cooperation on research is another concrete example of bilateral activities which are likely to increase in scope with a centre-right cabinet. An invitation by NATO of selected partners to enhanced cooperation in defense planning would probably be endorsed by the centre-right. It seems likely that the centre-right coalition wishes to enhance Sweden’s participation in NATO exercises and training activities. The spectrum of activities will probably expand and range from military rapid reaction to civil disaster response. Most likely NATO will receive an invitation from the coalition to conduct exercises in Sweden. The relations between NATO and Russia could also in this case be indicative, although in the other direction. The more antagonistic the relations the more the cabinet would probably strive to cooperate with NATO. The cabinet would thus have an opportunity to practice, for example, military assistance in accordance with the unilateral Swedish solidarity declaration. It seems reasonable to assume that the centre-right coalition will use the cooperation on dialogue and consultations as an instrument to coordinate interorganizational NATO–EU activities. This applies in general terms but also more specifically to reforms in Eastern Europe. Mutual challenges such as terrorism will most likely be put on the agenda by the coalition. Presumably the centre-right cabinet will try to enhance the consultations with NATO regardless of the outcomes of the Alliance’s strategic choices. The centre-right coalition might come to transfer Sweden’s international cooperation on security support from NATO to the EU. The coalition might, furthermore, attempt to redirect the cooperation that nonetheless is carried out within NATO toward some form of security guarantees to selected partner countries. If NATO decides to


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reinforce the opportunities already in place in these respects, it will probably be affirmed by the coalition. If the centre-right coalition is consistent with its arguments that the EU and NATO should not overlap each other’s responsibilities, it is possible that cooperation with NATO on civil emergency planning will be phased out. On the other hand, it is possible that the general NATO enthusiasm of the coalition forces it to reconsider. If NATO decides to better coordinate its resources with partners, the coalition might hence very well be affirmative. The coalition clearly considers the assignment of SAF personnel to NATO as important. The coalition will presumably seek to increase the Swedish representation at NATO. This applies not only to military staffs but to all parts of the NATO’s hierarchy. If NATO decides to increase the opportunities for partners in this respect it would, without any doubt, be warmly welcomed by the centre-right coalition.

Sweden and the future utility of NATO The utility of NATO is in the eye of the beholder. The red-green coalition has a slight squint with a pragmatic Social Democratic approach on the one hand, and a skeptic Left/Green on the other. The red-green coalition apparently prefers to see the problems rather than the possibilities. The utility the coalition grants the partnership depends on the fact that NATO: • has the military capabilities an implementation of UN-sanctioned operations requires. NATO might even be considered to be indispensable in order to fulfill higher purposes • provides a standard that enables interoperability in international cooperation outside the Alliance • provides a forum for dialogue and consultations, mainly between the West and Russia, and primarily related to disarmament, arms control, and non-proliferation of WMD. The centre-right coalition also has problem focusing. On the one hand, the Liberal Party and the Moderate Party see a Swedish NATO membership in the horizon. On the other hand, the Christian


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Democrats and, especially, the Centre Party seem to have some difficulty in letting go of the traditional views. When they do, the coalition have a vision of the future and a common enthusiastic approach. The coalition’s inability to focus is, however, also related to the time perspective. The centre-right coalition has a tendency to be overly eager on the membership issue and forget the present. The parties are aware that the lack of civil support makes it impossible for Sweden to join NATO in the near future. In spite of that, some of them are arguing for a membership in vain. Instead, they should, according to their preferences, be focusing on what can be immediately achieved through the partnership. If they do, the centreright coalition will be in a position to develop the relationship with NATO even further. The utility the coalition already now finds in the partnership lies foremost in the fact that NATO: • offers a platform to increase Sweden’s political influence • invites to consultations on the individual partner’s national security and, at the extreme, offers a collective defense • provides opportunities to maintain and develop the Swedish military capability. To summarize, the red-green coalition seems to consider the utility of the partnership based on idealistic norms and altruistic intentions while the considerations of the centre-right coalition seems to be based on realistic values and ‘Realpolitik’ ambitions. One scenario is that NATO develops similar to the red-green perceptions of the world. A Swedish centre-right cabinet would then probably have no problem in adapting and continuing to foster the relations. Another scenario is that NATO instead affirms the centre-right conceptions. Presumably a Swedish red-green cabinet would then fall back to the principles of neutrality. A large-scale reduction of the cooperation might hence very well be the result. Finally, it is appropriate to revisit the methodological decisions I initially made. I have chosen to use the declaratory statements from the debate in the Swedish parliament. In limiting the research to 2002–09 I have probably excluded most of the controversy. There is, however, still a risk that the arguments expressed in opposition differ from those formulated in official policy. The statements made by the Moderate Party have, for example, not resulted in a Swedish


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application for NATO membership despite the fact that the party is dominating the centre-right cabinet. On the other hand, I consider it to be questionable whether the centre-right coalition actually has formulated a NATO policy. Neither the Moderate Party nor the Liberal Party has, for example, transferred their enthusiasm into any significant developments of the partnership. The extensive verbatim reuse of the previous Social Democratic cabinet’s statements reinforces the impression of the partnership being viewed as an intermission in the quest for membership. There is undeniably potential for the centre-right coalition to take a stronger position for the partnership with NATO. There are grounds for believing that the NATO skepticism of the Left Party and the Green Party may adopt more subtle shapes if the red-green coalition comes to power. The parallels with the red-green cabinet in Norway support this claim. On the other hand, NATO skepticism within the Social Democrats runs much deeper in Sweden than in Norway. This might apply for the anti-Americanism as well. If these currents are gaining ground it cannot be ruled out that the NATO policy of a future Swedish red-green cabinet may be far more modest compared with the policy of the previous Socialist minority cabinets.

Acknowledgments The author thanks Dennis Gyllensporre and Charlotte Ingalls for their comments on an earlier version of this chapter.

Notes ∗ The translation of the titles from Swedish to English is conducted by the author.

1. The new cabinet is elected to be in office from September 2010 to September 2014. 2. See http://www.nato.int/strategic-concept/strategic-concept-bibliograpy. html, date accessed 11 October 2009.

Bibliography Brzezinski, Z. (2009) ‘An Agenda for NATO’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 88, No. 5, September–October 2009, pp. 2–20.


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S-Cabinet (2004) Sveriges samarbete inom Euroatlantiska partnerskapsrådet och Partnerskap för fred (‘Sweden’s Cooperation within the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council and the Partnership for Peace’) (Skrivelse 2003/04:84, Stockholm, 11 March 2004). nS-Cabinet (2009) Sveriges samarbete med NATO inom Euroatlantiska partnerskapsrådet, Partnerskap för fred och krishanteringsinsatser (‘Sweden’s cooperation with NATO within the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council, The Partnership for Peace and Crisis Management Operations’) (Skrivelse 2008/09:137, Stockholm, 16 March 2009). Centre Party (2001) Där människor får växa (‘Where People Can Grow’) (Stockholm: Centre Party). Centre Party (2009) Ett Sverige där du kan växa (‘A Sweden Where You Can Grow’) http://www.centerpartiet.se/upload/Centerpartiet/Var%20politik/ rapporter/Valplattform2006_2.pdf, date accessed 8 June 2009. Centre Party Stämmobeslut område 8: Internationellt engagemang (‘Resolution Chapter 8: International Engagement’) http://www.centerpartiet.se/ Documents/stammohandlingar/2009/Slutprotokoll_%20Omrade8_Partist amman2009.pdf, date accessed 11 September 2009. Christian Democrats (2001) Kristdemokraternas principprogram (2001) (‘Christian Democrats’ 2001 Policy Programme’) http://www.kristdemokraterna. se/VarPolitik/∼/media/Files/VarPolitik/Principprogram/kd_principprg.pdf. ash, date accessed 8 June 2009. Christian Democrats (2002) Motion 2002/03:U280 (Stockholm, 23 October 2002). Christian Democrats (2009) Program för Kristdemokraternas riksting Västerås 25–27 juni 2009 (‘Christian Democrats’ 2009 Policy Programme’). Dahl, A-S. (1999) Svenskarna och NATO (‘The Swedes and NATO’) (Stockholm: Timbro). Eklund, N. (2005) Sweden and Poland Entering the EU – Comparative Patterns of Adaptive Organization and Cognition (Umeå: Umeå University). Foreign Affairs Committee (2004) Sveriges samarbete inom Euroatlantiska partnerskapsrådet och Partnerskap för fred (‘Sweden’s Cooperation in the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council and the Partnership for Peace’) (Report 2003/04: UU17, Stockholm, 29 April 2004). Foreign Affairs Committee (2009) Vissa säkerhetspolitiska frågor (‘Some Issues Regarding Security Politics’) (Report 2008/09: UU11, Stockholm, 2 June 2009). Green Party (2005) Grön ideologi – ett krav på handling, Miljöpartiets partiprogram (2005) (‘Green ideology – A Requirement of Action’) http://mp.se/ files/82000-82099/file_82014.pdf, date accessed 8 June 2009. Green Party (2007) Motion 2007/08:U367 (Stockholm, 5 October 2007). Green Party (2009) Motion 2008/09:U19 (Stockholm, 1 April 2009). Gudmundson, U. (2000) NATO i närbild (‘NATO in Close-up/focus’) (Lund: Studentlitteratur). Hamilton, Dan et al. (2009) The Washington NATO Project – Alliance Reborn: An Atlantic Compact for the 21st Century, http://www.acus.org/files/publication_ pdfs/65/NATO-AllianceReborn.pdf, date accessed 26 October 2009.


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Kamp, K-H. (2009) ‘Towards a New Strategy for NATO’, Survival, Vol. 51, No. 4, pp. 21–7. Left Party (2008) Vänsterpartiets partiprogram (2008) (‘Left Party’s 2001 Policy Programme’) http://www.vansterpartiet.se/index.php?option=com_ content&view=article&id=2022&Itemid=824, date accessed 8 June 2009. Left Party Motion 2002/03:U249 (Stockholm, 21 October 2002). Left Party Motion 2006/07:U246 (Stockholm, 27 October 2006). Left Party Motion 2006/07:U226 (Stockholm, 29 October 2006). Left Party Motion 2007/08:U203 (Stockholm, 19 September 2007). Left Party Motion 2007/08:U216 (Stockholm, 28 September 2007). Left Party Motion 2008/09:U254 (Stockholm, 16 September 2008). Left Party Motion 2008/09:Fö204 (Stockholm, 24 September 2008). Left Party Motion 2008/09:U17 (Stockholm, 31 March 2009). Liberal Party Frihet att växa (‘Freedom to Grow’) http://www.folkpartiet.se/ upload/Dokument/partiprogram_webb.pdf, date accessed 8 June 2009. Liberal Party Motion 2002/03:U234 (Stockholm, 19 October 2002). Liberal Party Motion 2002/03:K432 (Stockholm, 20 October 2002). Liberal Party Motion 2002/03:Fö240 (Stockholm, 21 October 2002). Liberal Party Motion 2003/04:U329 (Stockholm, 6 October 2003). Liberal Party Motion 2003/04:K419 (Stockholm, 7 October 2003). Liberal Party Motion 2003/04:Fö243 (Stockholm, 7 October 2003). Liberal Party Motion 2003/04:U20 (Stockholm, 31 March 2004). Ministry of Defence Individual Partnership Programme between Sweden and NATO for 2004–2005 (Stockholm, 16 October 2003). Ministry of Defence Individual Partnership Programme between Sweden and NATO for 2006–2007 (Stockholm, 20 October 2005). Ministry of Defence Individual Partnership Programme between Sweden and NATO for 2008–2009 (Stockholm, 6 December 2007). Ministry of Defence Individual Partnership Programme between Sweden and NATO for 2010–2011 (Stockholm, 12 November 2009). Moderate Party (2007) Vår tids arbetarparti – Moderaternas handlingsprogram (2007) (‘The Working Class Party of Our Times’) http://www.moderat.se/ web/Vart_handlingsprogram.aspx, date accessed 8 June 2009. Moderate Party Motion 2002/03:U323 (Stockholm, 15 October 2002). Moderate Party Motion 2002/03:U237 (Stockholm, 15 October 2002). Moderate Party Motion 2003/04:U208 (Stockholm, 25 September 2003). Moderate Party Motion 2003/04:U268 (Stockholm, 5 October 2003). Moderate Party Motion 2003/04:U21 (Stockholm, 1 April 2004). Moderate Party Motion 2007/08:U273 (Stockholm, 2 October 2007). Moderate Party Motion 2008/09:U230 (Stockholm, 28 September 2008). Moderate Party Motion 2008/09:U279 (Stockholm, 1 October 2008). NATO (1999) The Alliance’s Strategic concept, Approved in the North Atlantic Council meeting in Washington D.C., 24 April 1999. NATO (2009) Strategic Concept http://www.nato.int/cps/en/natolive/topics_ 56626.htm, date accessed 11 October 2009. NATO (2009) NATO’s Relations with Sweden http://www.nato.int/cps/en/ natolive/topics_52535.htm#key, date accessed 27 October 2009.


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Social Democrats Partiprogram för Socialdemokraterna (2001) (‘Social Democrats’ 2001 Policy Programme’) http://www.socialdemokraterna.se/upload/ Central/dokument/pdf/partiprogram.pdf, date accessed 8 June 2009. Social Democrats Rödgrönt samarbete (‘Red-Green Cooperation’) http://www. socialdemokraterna.se/Vart-parti/Ett-rodgront-samarbete-for-framtiden/, date accessed 18 July 2009. Social Democrats Motion 2008/09:U349 (Stockholm, 6 October 2008). Social Democrats Motion 2008/09:Fö293 (Stockholm, 7 October 2008). Social Democrats Motion 2008/09:U18 (Stockholm, 31 March 2009).

Interviews Staffan Danielsson (2009) Centre Party, member of The Defence Committee and The Defence Commission (Stockholm, 8 September). Karin Enström (2009) Moderate Party, member of The Defence Committee, chairman of The Defence Commission (Stockholm, 8 September). Anders Karlsson (2009) Social Democrats, chairman of The Defence Committee (Stockholm, 16 September). Else-Marie Lindgren (2009) Christian Democrats, member of The Defence Committee and The Defence Commission (Stockholm, 8 September). Peter Rådberg (2009) Green Party, member of The Defence Committee and The Defence Commission (Stockholm, 8 September). Gunilla Wahlén (2009) Left Party, member of The Defence Committee and The Defence Commission (Stockholm, 7 September). Allan Widman (2009) Liberal Party, member of The Defence Committee and The Defence Commission (Stockholm, 15 September).


8 Potential NATO Partners – Political and Military Utility for NATO Ryan C. Hendrickson

Introduction First implemented in 1989 as a revision to the 1961 Foreign Assistance Act, the US Major Non-NATO Ally (MNNA) distinction was formed primarily as a means to improve American bilateral relationships through improved defense trade relationships and to encourage and advance cooperative agreements for research and development on conventional weapons. To be clear at the onset, this distinction has nothing to do with NATO, provides no enhanced security guarantee between the US and its identified MNNA, and by some measures barely alters the existing relationship between the US and the MNNA (Center for Defense Information, 2004). In many respects, the injection of ‘NATO’ into this term, as well as the term ‘allies’ (at least in the Article 5 sense as understood in the North Atlantic Treaty), provides a false impression of the bilateral agreement in place. Nonetheless, the MNNA distinction has been granted by the US to 14 states from very different regions of the globe. Four of these states, however, differ considerably from the other states and NATO partnership arrangements considered in this volume. Argentina, Pakistan, the Philippines, and Thailand all have MNNA status, but do not have any partnership affiliation of any sort with the Alliance. This chapter assesses three broad facets of the US/MNNA relationship through four limited case studies of these states to evaluate their potential utility to NATO, focusing primarily on military and strategic capabilities that 163


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each MNNA could potentially offer through a future (and enhanced) partnership with the Alliance. In order to assess the potential utility of these MNNA states to NATO in the case studies that follow, the first element examined here is their existing military partnership/relationship with the US. This variable was chosen for analysis given that the MNNA status suggests a very close bilateral military relationship. Within this relationship, a key element to examine here is each state’s response to recent security challenges for the US and each MNNA’s reaction to these challenges, which includes an assessment of the MNNA’s contributions to the war in Iraq, and the US and NATO’s conflict in Afghanistan, as well as NATO’s ongoing peacekeeping presence in Kosovo. This section seeks to address how each state responded to and viewed these problems, which provides some insight on their military relationship with the US and, more broadly, how they viewed two of NATO’s central security concerns at this time. The second assessment area examines the existence of transnational terrorist threats facing the MNNA, which speaks to NATO’s calls for heightened attention to global terrorist challenges of the current era. Thus, this variable seeks to determine the MNNA’s efforts to address any terrorist challenges existing within each of these states, and how the MNNA has chosen to address this challenge. The final category for analysis is each MNNA’s ability and willingness to cooperate in peacekeeping operations. NATO has consistently called upon its current members, as well as membership applicant states, to both increase and demonstrate their ability to project force in order to meet existing and future security challenges. An analysis of this facet of each MNNAs’ foreign policy choices provides another perspective on the potential military utility of these states to NATO. In short, can these states provide a measurable and meaningful military contribution in peacekeeping that could have a consequential impact for the current NATO allies? The methodological approach adopted here clearly does not evaluate all elements of the wider strategic and diplomatic implications of a new NATO partnership with these MNNAs. Nor does this chapter evaluate the democratic development of each state or the degree of democratic civil-military relations in each MNNA, the level of domestic political support in the MNNA for such a partnership, or various European allies’ independent bilateral relationships with the MNNAs,


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all of which are legitimate measures for determining each MNNAs’ utility to NATO. At the same time, these three broad perspectives of Argentina, the Philippines, Thailand, and Pakistan provide some insight on their potential utility for an enhanced partnership with NATO. The MNNAs will be assessed in chronological order, based upon when they received this distinction from the US. Argentina, which received the MNNA distinction in 1998, will be examined first, followed by the Philippines and Thailand, who were granted MNNA status in 2003. Pakistan is the final MNNA to be examined; it became an MNNA in 2004, and has taken on heightened strategic importance given NATO’s military activities in Afghanistan and Pakistan in the Obama administration.

Research on NATO partnerships and the MNNA As has been demonstrated earlier in this volume, there has been very little research on the gamut of partnerships that NATO has created through, for example, its Mediterranean Dialogue, the Istanbul Cooperation Initiative, or through the Alliance’s ongoing relationships with ‘neutral’ countries who participate in NATO’s Partnership for Peace program.1 In contrast, much research has examined those partner states that seek and eventually have become full members of the Alliance. Much of this literature concludes that while the most recent members of the Alliance provide only marginal gains for the Alliance in terms of military force capabilities, there have been considerable gains through the promotion of democratic civil-military relations in these new members. Moreover, NATO has had some success in helping to modernize and professionalize these newly democratic militaries (Epstein, 2005; Gheciu, 2005; Barany, 2006; Moore, 2007; Polak et al., 2009). Yet it is clear that an important void exists in the academic literature on the wider impact that NATO’s various partnerships have had. Much the same can be said about the US Non-NATO Ally status. Apart from a small number of country-specific policy studies, almost no research exists on the history of this program, the political factors that continue to drive this aspect of American foreign policy, or on the goals that this program seeks to achieve (Larrinaga, 2000). The MNNA distinction came in 1989 and was intended to advance ‘cooperative research and development agreements,’ of


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its newly distinguished allies (US Public Law, Title 10, Section 2350a). The first states to be given this standing included Australia, Egypt, Israel, Japan, and South Korea. These states had already enjoyed excellent military relationships with the US, and thus the MNNA distinction did not suggest a substantive shift in American’s strategic relationship with these states. In 1996, the MNNA distinction was amended to allow the US to more rapidly export excess defense articles to an MNNA, again in a general effort to build upon and enhance an existing bilateral military relationship. The MNNA is made through a presidential determination, conditional upon a 30 day advance notice to Congress (US Public Law, Title 22, Section 2321k). In the Clinton administration, Argentina, Jordan, and New Zealand received this new status. In the presidential administration of George W. Bush, six additional states gained the MNNA distinction, which included Bahrain, the Philippines, Thailand, Kuwait, Morocco, and Pakistan. While this distinction may be semantically striking at first glance, it is worth noting the substantive limitations of the MNNA, as well as the views of senior White House officials across the administrations of Bill Clinton and George W. Bush on the MNNA distinction. First, the law requires that Congress be notified of this distinction only 30 days prior to the actual designation. While Congress has been viewed as a deferential body to the White House in foreign policy affairs by many analysts, this legislative history suggests that Congress understood the minimal strategic impact the MNNA distinction would have in both 1989 and 1996. Bill Clinton’s Secretary of Defense William Cohen largely confirmed this understanding of MNNA status when he noted upon granting Argentina this distinction in 1998: The establishment of this major, of this Non-NATO Ally status, really was a reward in a sense. A recognition that Argentina has been very helpful in peacekeeping efforts. It has been enormously helpful in Bosnia, the Gulf, and other areas. And this is just a, really a gesture on the part of the US that we recognize that and wanted to establish it on that basis. It does not convey any major status and should not be considered as such. (Department of Defense, 1998)


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In 2004, Secretary of State Colin Powell reiterated this perspective when Pakistan was in the process of receiving this distinction. Powell noted about the MNNA: ‘In some instances it is more symbolic than practical. I don’t know if Pakistan, whether they’ll be able to take great advantage of it. But it is just a sign of strength of the relationship’ (Department of State, 2004). By one account, the MNNA status is ‘a generally symbolic and placatory gesture’ (Center for Defense Information, 2004). Thus, it seems clear that the MNNA distinction says little about a new strategic direction for the US or the recipient country, but does indicate an interest upon building and enhancing a stronger bilateral relationship with the designated state, primarily for military export purposes. For this study, it is important to reiterate that MNNA status has nothing to do with NATO, the US’s relationship with NATO, or the recipient state’s interest in cooperating with NATO. We begin with an analysis of Argentina. Argentina Argentina was designated an MNNA formally on 6 January 1998, and is the first and only South American state to receive this distinction. As noted earlier, the Clinton administration provided this status in appreciation for Argentina’s troop contributions to NATO’s peacekeeping operation in Bosnia–Herzegovina and elsewhere, but also noted that the newfound status was just a ‘gesture’ of its thanks for Argentina’s support for American foreign policy and UN peacekeeping (Department of Defense, 1998). The Clinton administration noted that it hoped that Argentina would serve as a model state to others in Latin America in the hopes that the world could rely more upon Latin American states for peacekeeping assistance (Larrinaga, 2000). In 1997, in the lead up to the eventual designation, the Clinton administration notified the UK of its forthcoming decision, and also went to some lengths to assuage Chilean and Brazilian concerns that they had not been downgraded in American foreign policy importance (AFP, 1997; IPS, 1997; White House, 1997). In this regard, the distinction had a broader diplomatic impact. The much improved relationship between Argentina and the US began in the early 1990s, when Argentina provided military assistance to the US in Operation Desert Storm. Moreover, at the start of the Balkan crisis, Argentina provided some 865 peacekeepers to


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the UN Protection Force in Bosnia–Herzegovina and Croatia. In the late 1990s, these bonds continued to improve as the then Argentinean Defense Minister Jorge Dominguez sought to foster much closer diplomatic ties to NATO. In his 1999 essay published in the NATO Review, Dominguez noted: ‘Argentina will continue to serve in the unique capacity of NATO’s South Atlantic partner, facing the common challenges of the future together’ (Dominguez, 1999). And clearly, NATO appreciated the shared strategic perspectives and peacekeeping assistance (SFOR Informer Online, 1998, 2000). Despite the close bilateral relationship during the second Clinton administration, Argentina was less supportive of the Bush administration in Afghanistan and Iraq. After al Qaeda’s 11 September attack on the US, Argentina shared its diplomatic support for the US, but at the same time struggled to manage its domestic economic crisis and thus remained primarily a diplomatic, rather than military ally (Globe and Mail, 2001). In addition, Argentina, like many other Latin American states, was unwilling to support the American military efforts in Operation Iraqi Freedom. President Eduardo Duhalde noted: ‘We are against this war and we are not going to support it or take part in it’ (Quoted in Tagliabue, 2003). At this time, Argentina also has no peacekeepers in Bosnia–Herzegovina or Kosovo. Thus, some distancing is evident from the US during the Bush administration on two of its major strategic/military decisions, though joint training and naval exercises continued on an annual basis. Despite this political distancing, Argentina got high marks from the US on its counterterrorism activities. In the 2008 US State Department Country Report on terrorism, it was indicated that Argentina ‘cooperated well with the United States at the operation level.’ It coordinated its anti-money laundering efforts, and worked with the US to take additional law enforcement steps to address terrorist activities and networks that may function in its ‘tri-border’ area, which consists of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay (Department of State, 2008). In 2009, Argentina also made another judicial effort to apprehend a suspect allegedly associated with the 1994 terrorist strike that occurred in Buenos Aires (AFP, 2009). With regard to its broader participation in UN peacekeeping, Argentina continues to support a number of missions, which include small troop deployments to Western Sahara, Liberia, Cote D’Ivoire, and the UN Truce Supervision Organization in Jerusalem. Its larger


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contributions, though, are far more substantial. At this time, it has 262 troops in Cyprus and 576 troops in Haiti. In the latter mission, Argentina has been present for many years. In total, 861 Argentineans are deployed across six missions, which demonstrate an ongoing and sustained commitment to international peacekeeping (UN, 2009). In sum, Argentina’s activities across these three security matters indicate that it is capable of sustained peacekeeping operations, and cooperates well with the US in taking anti-terrorism measures at the domestic level. However, it is also the case that it no longer has as strong a bilateral relationship with the US as it did in the Clinton administration, though this situation could change rapidly in the Obama administration. Diplomatic language such as that used by former Defense Minister Jorge Dominguez, when speaking about Argentina’s desire to be ‘NATO’s South Atlantic Partner,’ no longer appears in its strategic dialogue. The Philippines The Republic of the Philippines received its MNNA distinction from the Bush administration on 6 October 2003. The distinction came in part because of the Philippines’ strong backing of the US in Iraq, and due to the existence of at least four significant internal terrorist threats, which included the Abu Sayyaf Group (ASG), Jemaah Islamiya (JI), the New People’s Army (NPA), and the Rajah Solaiman Movement (RSM). For the most part, this distinction was positively received by the Philippines, and especially its military who was enthusiastic to increase its weapons and force projection capabilities (AFP, 2003a, 2003b; Asia Pulse, 2003). After the 11 September attacks on the US, Filipino President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo offered almost immediate support to the US by offering access to Filipino air bases and sea ports. The Arroyo government also offered combat troops to the US, though none were deployed nor are any stationed there at this time. In part, Arroyo’s strong pledges of support to the US may have been motivated by the Philippine’s own desire to gain additional American military assistance to tackle its own domestic terrorist challenges (Burton and Landingin, 2001; Gerleman et al., 2001). Regardless of the motive, it was clear that the Arroyo government proved to be an enthusiastic ally of the US, and by January 2002, the US had already sent 25 counterterrorism advisors to assist the Philippine’s military.


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Filipino diplomacy prior to and during the early phases of the Bush administration’s war in Iraq was similar to its approach during the US strikes on the Taliban in Afghanistan. The government quickly lent its backing to the US and was officially listed among the Bush administration’s ‘coalition of the willing,’ the only ally studied in this chapter to publicly join this group (White House, 2003a). Their support came early and ostensibly without significant lobbying from the US (Landingin, 2003). The Philippines provided a small contribution of 100 soldiers to the mission. These forces, however, did not stay long. After a Filipino truck driver was taken hostage, the government quickly agreed to withdraw its forces in a hostage exchange. This decision prompted a temporary strain in US–Filipino relations, but no long lasting diplomatic fissure (Lum and Niksch, 2009). Along with their willingness and interest to receive military training assistance on counterterrorism measures from the US, the Philippines has actively cooperated with the US to improve its air and sea security through enhanced radar detection systems. Among these efforts is the ‘Coast-Watch South’ program, which has been highlighted by the state department as a significant step toward enhancing the Philippines’ counterterrorism capabilities. Their police forces have also undergone training programs sponsored by the US, and the most recent US state department report on counterterrorism measures indicates ‘excellent cooperation’ from the Philippines and ‘significant progress’ (Department of State, 2008). Perhaps more importantly for this analysis, the level of military cooperation between each country since 2001 has truly been significant. Two major joint military operations were conducted in 2002 and 2005. In 2002, approximately 1300 American troops teamed with Philippine Armed Forces did significant damage to Abu Sayyaf. Another major joint operation occurred in 2005, again aimed at reducing and eliminating the influence of Abu Sayyaf. Although questions over ad hoc killings conducted by the Philippines Armed Forces have been raised, and Arroyo’s decision to leave Iraq certainly created diplomatic tensions, military-to-military cooperation remains extensive (Lum and Niksch, 2009). With regard to global peacekeeping, the Philippines maintains a total of 1062 peacekeeping troops deployed across eight different missions. Its largest contingents exist in Haiti, Darfur, the Golan Heights, Liberia, and East Timor, all of which have more than 150


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troops, with the largest numbers being in the Golan Heights, where it has 337 people deployed (UN, 2009). These deployments indicate a clear and sustained interest in peacekeeping, and also demonstrate the Philippines’s global commitment to it given the wide geographical distribution of troops, though it has no peacekeepers in Kosovo. These deployments square with the previously stated strategic direction provided by Defense Secretary, Hermogenes Ebdane, in 2007, when he remarked: ‘We are looking forward to a larger Philippine peacekeeping presence in conflict areas worldwide’ (Xinhua General News Service, 2007). It also had a significant peacekeeping presence in the 1999 crisis in East Timor (Cobb, 1999; Deutsche PresseAgentur, 1999b). Though regional in this case, the deployment was quite substantive in terms of numbers and their presence has been sustained when necessary. Thailand Thailand has a long history of military cooperation with the US dating back to the Vietnam War. More recently, though, it first became public that the Bush administration was considering Thailand as an MNNA on 11 June 2003, when President Bush and Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra issued a joint statement from the White House, indicating that the US was ‘actively considering’ Thailand’s designation as a MNNA (White House, 2003b). This designation was made official on 30 December 2003. President Bush noted openly that this new status was due to the friendship between the US and Thailand, and especially because of Thailand’s close cooperation with the CIA in their joint counterterrorism activities, most notably, for the Thai’s assistance in capturing Hambali, the organizer of the major terrorist bombing in Bali. Bush also thanked Thaksin for his government’s assistance in Iraq (Sanger, 2003; White House, 2003c). Some in Thailand criticized the new relationship, and upon the announcement of Thailand’s MNNA status, the Thaksin government made some effort to downplay the significance of this decision (Macan-Markar, 2003). Much like the Philippines, the level of military cooperation between the US and Thailand, both prior to and since the MNNA distinction, has been extensive. This cooperation includes more than 40 joint training operations annually, which have also included other Asian militaries, as well as some Europeans. The most extensive of


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these missions is Operation Cobra Gold, which is the biggest joint training mission for the US in Asia. Thailand has also served as a key transportation site for the American military through the use of Thai seaports and airfields (Chanlett-Avery, 2009). Though some diplomatic tensions do exist in US–Thai relations, the 2006 domestic coup against Thaksin had little long-term impact on these joint military ventures, and cooperation and training levels remain far-reaching. In 2002, Thailand deployed 130 troops to Afghanistan, most of whom focused on their efforts on reconstruction of an air runway in Bagram. Thailand also permitted over flight rights, and allowed Thai airbases to be used for refueling. American warships also used Thai ports. Prime Minister Thaksin also assisted the US after its invasion of Iraq through the deployment of 450 troops, who worked primarily on reconstruction efforts in Karbala. Thaksin did not publicly join Bush’s ‘coalition of the willing’ prior to the war, and preferred to remain officially unassociated with the group, but soon after the war’s initiation Thailand became an active participant in the operation (Chambers, 2004). In both cases, however, Thailand no longer is deployed in either of these operations. With regard to anti-terrorism measures, Thailand has received high marks from the US Department of State. Thailand continues to experience a major separatist movement in the south, which has claimed the lives of thousands, but the separatists do not appear to have wider, transnational links with terrorist organizations. Thailand also continues to cooperate with the US through a number of antiterrorism programs, including measures to prevent money laundering, the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, and as noted above, continues to actively cooperate with the American military in a wide range of joint training and educational efforts (Department of State, 2008). With regard to international peacekeeping, Thailand has a mixed record of global deployments. During the recent Bush administration, in 2007 Thailand agreed to send 800 troops to the UN Mission in Sudan. In 2005, it also sent 175 army engineers to the UN peacekeeping mission in Burundi. The Thai’s largest peacekeeping mission ever, however, was in East Timor, when it contributed 1581 troops (Deutsche Presse-Agentur, 1999a; Associate Press, 2007). In this regard, it is clear that Thailand is willing to deploy its peacekeepers abroad and in fairly significant quantities. At the Bagram air


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base in Afghanistan, just as they did in Burundi, it is also clear that they have some technical skills that are useful to address different logistical/engineering needs in each mission. Yet it is also important to note that Thailand’s deployments appear limited in duration. As of 31 December 2009, it had only 27 troops in the UN missions in Darfur and Sudan, and only 18 troops in East Timor for a total of 45 peacekeepers deployed (UN, 2009). Thus, the Thai’s pattern of participation in multilateral peacekeeping follows a pattern that was evident in its military cooperation with the US in Afghanistan and Iraq, where these major deployments were not sustainable, and appeared to be susceptible to political pressures. In sum, however, these findings indicate the presence of a well-trained and modernized military capable of conducting meaningful and significant military and peacekeeping operations. In addition, Thailand has actively taken anti-terrorism measures that have been applauded by the US. Pakistan Given the current war in Afghanistan, as well as the ongoing military efforts in western Pakistan to capture and/or kill al Qaeda and Taliban supporters, this MNNA is significantly different from the others considered in this chapter, and arguably more difficult to assess comprehensively within this limited context. Nonetheless, this brief assessment still may provide some insight on its potential utility as partner for NATO. Pakistan received MNNA status on 16 June 2004. The politics of this distinction were markedly different from the previous three cases, in that some congressional opposition rose when this issue was first raised by Secretary of State Colin Powell. Powell noted that it was simply a sign of how strong Pakistan and American relations were, but signified nothing beyond that (Department of State, 2004). Some members of Congress maintained that Pakistan was not doing enough to address terrorist challenges from within the state, and thus did not deserve this distinction (Congressional Record, 2004). In addition, India expressed much diplomatic angst for not being consulted or even informed of the Bush administration’s decision to move in this direction (BBC News, 2004; Mahapatra, 2004). However, as noted previously, Powell went to some lengths to downplay the distinction.


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Since 11 September 2001, the level of cooperation between the US and Pakistan has been extensive, albeit significant debate exists over how closely aligned Pakistan has been with American strategic goals in the region (Fair, 2009). Pakistan provided much logistical support for the US in the first phases of Operation Enduring Freedom, but since 2008 the US has placed considerable diplomatic pressure on Pakistan to do more to root out elements of Taliban and al Qaeda that reside and operate out of northwest Pakistan, which has resulted in Pakistani military offensives. NATO cooperation with Pakistan also increased after the devastating earthquake in 2005, when NATO deployed forces in a limited capacity to assist with humanitarian relief. Some joint training followed, and by some accounts, continues to be pursued actively by the Pakistani military (Moore, 2010, p. 108). Yet, by the end of the Bush administration, despite Pakistani cooperation with the US and NATO, it was quite obvious that the security conditions in Pakistan had deteriorated rapidly as the number of suicide terrorist attacks had increased substantially, as well as the number of terrorist strikes on government buildings. By a number of measures, including the State Department’s own assessment, militant strikes and terrorist activity across Pakistan had increased measurably in 2008 (Department of State, 2008). The Obama administration has attempted to cultivate a much closer relationship with Pakistan in its overall strategy in the region, which is evident though Obama’s initial appointment of a new special envoy to Afghanistan and Pakistan, Richard Holbrooke, and his provision of major increases in American foreign aid packages aimed, in part, at civilian projects and development. In addition, the US has increased significantly the use of missile strikes from unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV) in Pakistani territory, all of which indicates enhanced bilateral cooperation between the US and Pakistan (Shane and Schmitt, 2010). Apart from its strategic challenges with al Qaeda and the Taliban, and heightened cooperation between the US during the Obama administration, Pakistan also plays a unique role in the world through its extensive commitment to international peacekeeping. For many years, Pakistan has been the largest troop contributor to UN peacekeeping missions among all UN member states. At this time, it provides 10,764 peacekeepers to 11 different missions. In


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its two largest missions, in the DR Congo and Liberia, Pakistan has 3646 and 3116 troops deployed in these operations. Otherwise, it has troops and experts in Burundi, the Central African Republic and Chad, Western Sahara, Haiti, Darfur, Sudan, East Timor, and Cote D’Ivoire. Pakistan is also the only MNNA who currently assists with the peacekeeping operation in Kosovo, though it has only one police official deployed there. Thus, Pakistan has a long and extensive history of involvement in peacekeeping.

Conclusion As noted earlier, this chapter provides only a partial assessment of the potential utility that may exist for NATO in four of America’s MNNAs. Clearly, ‘utility’ can be measured by many different standards. Political variables that are not assessed here include the level of democratic development in each state, the domestic support for NATO in each MNNA, individual European allies’ bilateral relationships with the MNNAs, each states’ human rights practices, which may not necessarily square with general norms evident across most NATO allies, or the impact of improved trade relations between the US and the MMNA related to military weaponry, which the MNNA status seeks to enhance. More specifically, a new NATO partnership with Thailand raises new diplomatic and human rights questions for the Alliance to consider, given the sometimes aggressive actions of the Thai military. Moreover, a closer NATO partnership with Pakistan invites new diplomatic tension between the NATO allies and India. Thus, for this group of MNNAs, new NATO partnerships would introduce the Alliance to a wider set of strategic concerns that the Alliance previously did not face. Nonetheless, the findings provided here provide some insight on the current strategic relationship between the US and each MNNA, the presence of terrorist challenges in the MNNA, and the MNNA’s commitment to international peacekeeping, which may provide some measure(s) of the MNNAs’ potential utility to NATO. Although each MNNA addressed here varies significantly in its current relationship with the US, a good case can be made that in each instance NATO could find political and military utility through an enhanced partnership with the MNNA. Much like former American National Security Advisor, Zbigniew Brzezinksi, maintains, NATO’s range of


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interest is increasingly global, and thus demands additional international cooperation to achieve its strategic objectives (Brzezinski, 2009). Among the MNNAs addressed here, Argentina has the least close military partnership with the US at this time. Argentina is just one of a number of Latin American states who has close military contacts with the US, but not necessarily a ‘preferred’ relationship akin to Thailand’s affiliation with the US in southeast Asia. Moreover, profound diplomatic differences were evident between Argentina and the Bush administration over Iraq, though such tensions were evident with many other states as well. Yet, despite these differences, Argentina continues to conduct joint military operations with the US on a regular basis. More importantly, the presence of terrorist activities in Argentina’s tri-border region, coupled with Argentina’s interest in peacekeeping, especially considering its past contributions to the NATO mission in Bosnia–Herzegovina, provide solid justification for NATO to foster a closer relationship with Argentina, much as previous Defense Secretary Jorge Dominguez maintained during the late 1990s. A good case for a NATO partnership with the Philippines can also be made. Though they do not participate in the operation in Afghanistan, they have taken a number of counterterrorism measures, no doubt due in part to their significant internal security challenges. In addition, their peacekeeping record demonstrates both a regional and global focus, where they have sustained their presence, much like that which NATO encouraged of its aspiring members. In addition, their recent history of joint military operations with the US demonstrates that the Philippines is truly a ‘major’ ally in the global effort to diminish terrorist threats, and thus ostensibly makes the Philippines a natural direction for NATO to gravitate toward. Thailand similarly has many qualities that suggest much utility for the Alliance. Like Argentina and the Philippines, Thailand does not have a military presence in Afghanistan. Yet their extensive military partnership with the US has proven to be a critical site for American foreign policy interests in southeast Asia, and their record in peacekeeping, though ostensibly more vulnerable to domestic pressure, suggests some military utility for NATO. Given NATO’s


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broadening scope of interests, and the excellent relationship between the US and the Thais, it would make much sense for NATO to increase its dialogue with Thailand. Pakistan too demands additional NATO attention, which has been evident for a number of years given the strategic challenge of fighting the Taliban and al Qaeda in northwest Pakistan. Along with its long record of international peacekeeping that potentially brings some utility to NATO, and the beginnings of heightened strategic dialogue and cooperation with the US and NATO, ongoing and improved cooperation with Pakistan is critical to NATO’s future in Afghanistan. Thus, in all cases, the MNNAs potentially provide different degrees of political and military utility for the Alliance given the presence of shared strategic concerns, each MNNAs’ military capabilities and proclivities toward international peacekeeping, or due to their existing domestic security challenges. As NATO takes on more global and less regional activities, the political and military utility of, at minimum, increased dialogue with these MNNAs increasingly makes strategic sense. In many ways, NATO’s decision to go ‘out-of-area’ defines the Alliance as global, which then calls for the cultivation of more partners and contributors. To remain ‘regional’ in outlook and orientation denies the existence of transnational threats that require multilateral solutions and diplomatic cooperation.

Acknowledgments The author thanks Nathan G. D. Garrett and Joshua Whitney for their research assistance.

Note 1. For two exceptions, see Moore, 2010; Frühling and Schreer, 2010.

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Gerleman, D. J., Stevens, J. E. and Hildreth, S. A. (2001) ‘Operation Enduring Freedom: Foreign Pledges of Military and Intelligence Support’, Congressional Research Service (17 October 2001). Gheciu, A. (2005) NATO in the ‘New Europe’ (Stanford, CA.: Stanford Univ. Press). Globe and Mail (2001) ‘Latin American Leaders Support U.S.’ (9 October 2001). IPS-Inter Press Service (1997) ‘Argentina–Chile: U.S. Alliance Clouds Relations’ (17 August 1997). Landingin, R. (2003) ‘Manila Braced for Terror Attacks’, Financial Times (6 February 2003), p. 6. Larrinaga, F. L. (2000) ‘Argentina, A New U.S. Non-Nato Ally’, Naval War College Review, 53, 2, pp. 125–58. Lum, T. and Niksch, L. A. (2009) ‘The Republic of the Philippines: Background and U.S. Relations’, Congressional Research Service (15 January 2009), p. 16. Macan-Markar, M. (2003) ‘Thailand: Premier Faces Storm Over Upgraded Alliance with U.S.’, IPS-Inter Press Service (30 October 2003). Mahapatra, R. (2004) ‘India Disappointed with United States for not Sharing Its Decision to Elevate Military Ties with Pakistan’, Associate Press (20 March 2004). Moore, R. R. (2007) NATO’s New Mission: Projecting Stability in a Post-Cold War World (Westport, Conn.: Praeger Security International). Moore, R. R. (2010) ‘NATO Partners in Afghanistan: Impact and Purpose,’ UNISCI Discussion Papers, No. 22, pp. 92–115. NATO (2009) ‘Strasbourg/Kehl Summit Declaration’, http://www.nato.int/ cps/en/natolive/news_52837.htm?mode=pressrelease, date accessed 4 April 2010. Polak, N. M., Hendrickson, R. C. and Garrett, N. G. D. (2009) ‘NATO Membership for Albania and Croatia: Military Modernization, Geo-Strategic Factors, and Force Projection’, Journal of Slavic Military Studies, 22, 4, pp. 502–14. Sanger, D. E. (2003) ‘Bush Yields a Bit on North Korea’, International Herald Tribune (20 October 2003), p. 1. SFOR Informer Online (1998) ‘Argentina and Romania Join MSU’, http://www. nato.int/SFOR/sfor-at-work/msu/MSU1.htm, accessed 4 April 2010. SFOR Informer Online (2000) ‘SFOR Argentinean Contingent’, http:// www.nato.int/SFOR/indexinf/100/s100p03a/t0011083a.htm, date accessed 4 April 2010. Shane S. and Schmitt, E. (2010) ‘C.I.A. Deaths Prompt Surge in U.S. Drone Strikes’, New York Times Online (23 January 2010). Tagliabue, J. (2003) ‘Start of War condemned by many Government Leaders’, International Herald Tribune (21 March 2003), p. 3. UN Mission’s Summary detailed by Country (31 December 2009) at http:// www.un.org/en/peacekeeping/contributors/, date accessed 4 April 2010. US Public Law, Title 10, Section 2350a, 1989. US Public Law, Title 22, Section 2321k, 1996. White House (1997) ‘President Clinton’s Bilateral Meetings with President Carlos Menem of Argentina’ (16 October 1997).


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9 Political and Military Utility of NATO for Argentina Federico Merke

Introduction At first glance, NATO and Argentina may not seem to have much in common. Argentina is a country far from Brussels, located at the southern tip of the Americas, which since 1865 has been at peace with its neighbors on the continent. Its security agenda is closely linked with the region and has little to do with rogue states, terrorist threats, or weapons of mass destruction. Rather, it has an agenda that shares more with the problems facing developing countries and thus is more related to territorial control, natural resources, democratic stability, drug trafficking, and organized crime. NATO, meanwhile, is a Northern security arrangement, which has transformed its identity from being a military alliance against the Communist threat to being a security community that promotes democracy and human rights, not only in NATO’s territory but also along its nearest neighborhood. Yet, Argentina and NATO have crossed paths more than once on a number of issues, from UN peace operations to humanitarian intervention, to military cooperation in the areas of planning or doctrine. The purpose of this chapter is to explore the Argentine case as a potential partner of NATO and the political and military utility that such a scenario might offer to Argentina. The general argument of this chapter is that the utility of NATO for Argentina will be conditioned by international, regional, and domestic variables. In particular, there are three elements which will shape the relationship. The first, more global, has to do with the international 181


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security agenda and its development since the end of the Cold War. The second dimension relates to the specific relationship between Argentina and the US. The third one is linked to the regional context of Argentina and the possibilities of articulating a regional security strategy with a strategy of cooperation with NATO. The chapter is organized into three sections followed by a conclusion. The first section considers the changes in the international security agenda from the 1990s onward and how they were perceived by Argentina. The second section focuses on the relationship between Argentina and the US since the end of the Cold War to the present. The third section provides an overview of the South American region from the 1990s until today and asks how it would be possible for Argentina to articulate its role in the regional security arrangements with a probable association with NATO. Finally, a brief summary of the argument will be presented together with some concluding observations on the conditions of the possibility for a closer partnership between Argentina and NATO.

International security, the role of NATO, and Argentina’s foreign policy The overall argument running through this section is that the political and military utility of NATO for Argentina depends significantly on the distinguishing traits of the international society and how it shapes Argentina’s foreign policy. This argument involves a necessary distinction between the post-Cold War international environment and the post-11 September order. Further, it also implies the need for understanding Argentina’s international role, played during the 1990s, the path that its foreign policy followed after 11 September, and its domestic economic crisis that occurred between 2001 and 2002. The liberal interregnum The end of the Cold War was supposed to bring a new order which would facilitate the action of international organizations. Further, it also assumed that the US would somehow be the guarantor of an international public good, security, on the basis of a renewed leadership. Regionally, the end of the Cold War served to consolidate democratic regimes recovered during the 1980s. It also pushed for


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the start of regional integration processes and state reforms. These changes affected the perceptions of Argentine elites in two fundamental ways. First, Argentina perceived that the most significant fact of the end of the Cold War was not US military supremacy but rather the absence of an alternative ideological referent to political and economic liberalism. This was a crucial change in a country that had tried several times to practice a kind of ‘third way’ located somewhere between American capitalism and Soviet Marxism (Paradiso, 2007). Argentina felt that this game would not be possible anymore or at least would be much harder to sustain. Second, Argentina perceived that a strengthened UN would be of greater benefit to middle states. Diplomacy and international law would go up, the balance of power/terror and the shadow of war would diminish. Thus, Argentina saw its historic diplomatic and legal traditions could be useful in negotiating a more assertive role in the new international scenario. That these changes had an impact on the international security agenda is not contested. First, the US military power developed and deployed during the Cold War was still intact. Second, the hegemonic advancement of liberalism in the international order was built on a specific notion of peace, or rather a liberal idea of peace based on democracy, economic interdependence, and respect for human rights. Third, the renewal of the UN and the transformation of NATO signaled a renewed trend toward collective security management. It was this combination of US leadership, liberal values, and collective management of security that shaped the international orientation of Argentina in general and how it would look to NATO in particular.1 One of the structural problems that had confronted the UN in implementing its peacekeeping operations was the lack of human and material resources to meet the demands of international peace and security. The increasing cooperation between the UN, US, and NATO suggested the deficit was coming to an end and now a state (US) and an organization (NATO) would help in bridging the gap between expectations and capabilities. The Gulf War of 1990–91 and the role played by NATO in the former Yugoslavia in 1992 onward pointed in this direction. Under Argentine President Carlos Menem (1989–99), the dominant trend was to think of NATO as a zone of peace and as the armed wing of the UN (Sánchez Mariño, 2005). In other words, there was the perception that international security would be addressed from a division of labor, in which the UN would


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do its job up to the peacekeeping level and NATO would do its part at the level of peace enforcement. Argentina conceived, then, that an adequate international insertion demanded, on the one hand, an active military participation in the UN and, on the other, a greater commitment to NATO (Fontana, 1998). With this picture in mind, President Menem’s foreign policy adopted the grammar of international security and placed defense policies in civilian hands. Thus, in the security field, Argentina valued its national interests to the same degree as it valued its international responsibilities. As a result, the military had to defend the country but also had to defend international law in the Persian Gulf, democracy in Haiti, and human rights in Kosovo. Menem went further saying that ‘the Argentine armed forces will be everywhere in the world where peace is threatened’ (quoted in Norden, 1995, p. 332). Compared to Argentina’s past security traditions, the change was remarkable. In 1988 Argentina had only 20 soldiers participating in UN peace operations. By 1990 there were 60, in 1992 there were 975, and for 1994 the figure would reach 1600 (Fontana, 1998, p. 229). By 1998, Argentina had already sent more than 11,000 officers to more than a dozen peace operations. By the same year, half the army had participated in a peace operation and Argentina’s share was 82 per cent of the Latin American contribution (Fontana, 1998, p. 229) and was ranked in eighth place worldwide (Larrinaga, 2000, p. 131). This substantive approach to the UN would not be made without a parallel rapprochement with NATO. In 1992 and then in 1994, Guido Di Tella visited NATO’s headquarters in Brussels. In 1993, the Foreign Ministry hosted a seminar on international security to analyze the role of NATO and Argentina’s participation in the new security schemes. This meeting was attended by Amedeo de Franchis, at that time NATO’s Deputy Secretary-General; Marcel Leroy, from NATO’s Political Directorate; Jonathan Day, NATO’s Director of Force Planning Analysis Section, and Peter Woodhead, NATO’s Deputy Supreme Allied Commander Atlantic. Opening the seminar, President Carlos Menem said that ‘the presence of NATO in these latitudes demonstrates the need of a worldwide effort in order to redesign the structures of global security’ (Menem, 1994, p. 16). Actually, it would be the first time NATO General Secretariat crossed the equator and participated in an event of this magnitude in the southern hemisphere. In this seminar, the then Defense Minister


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of Argentina, Oscar Camilión, said that Argentina was ‘interested in developing operational and political interactions’ and in having ‘more inter-operative capacities with NATO’s military structure.’ Argentina, said Camilión, was interested in participating in global security and for that reason it was ‘necessary to have some level of coordination with NATO in relation to military activities’ (Camilión, 1994, p. 33). The first opportunity to cooperate with NATO came with the decision to participate in 1998 in the Stabilization Force in Bosnia– Herzegovina (SFOR) through the Multinational Specialized Unit (MSU). On that occasion, the gendarmerie contributed 76 troops to the MSU. A year later, the air force commissioned a chief staff member of SFOR in Sarajevo, and in July 1999 the navy and the army followed suit (Larrinaga, 2000). Kosovo was perhaps the place where the relationship between Argentina and NATO reached its peak level of collaboration. Despite many legal doubts and political questions on the side of Russia and China, NATO began its attack on Yugoslavia in March 1999.2 That same year, Argentina contributed troops, doctors, and engineers under the name of ‘Argentine Joint Grouping’ (ACAK) and under the command of the Italian Brigade. Once the cease-fire was agreed, Argentina even offered troops to integrate the peacekeepers that would enter Kosovo (Corigliano, 2003, p. 75). Why has Argentina been an attractive country for NATO? According to Colonel Horacio Sánchez Mariño (2010), Argentina was requested in Bosnia–Herzegovina mainly due to its participation in the UN mission in Haiti. It was Wesley Clark, then Commander of troops in Haiti in 1995, who appreciated the work done by the Argentine Gendarmerie in that country. Arriving in Bosnia– Herzegovina as Commander of NATO forces, Wesley Clark perceived that the scenario of the region was somewhat similar to that of Haiti and thus he believed necessary to count on Argentine Gendarmerie. Argentina did not hesitate to send troops into Bosnia–Herzegovina in 1998 and thereafter it was established that Argentina should have a liaison officer in the Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE). Thus between 1998 and 2006, an Argentine officer served as liaison between NATO and Buenos Aires. This was the only liaison that Latin America had in NATO at that time. Likewise, it was agreed that the


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ambassador of Argentina to Brussels would be the diplomatic representative to NATO and the military attaché at the embassy would be the military representative to NATO. The tasks the liaison developed included: 1. represent the Argentine interests before SHAPE, 2. coordinate the work of Argentina in NATO operations, 3. attend meetings and receive NATO classified information about the state of different missions under NATO command, 4. coordinate the visit of Argentine authorities to SHAPE and the operations theaters, and 5. coordinate with SHAPE the attendance of Argentine officers to the courses offered by the NATO School in Oberammergau, Germany (Sánchez Mariño, 2010). Colonel Sánchez Mariño served as liaison to SHAPE from July 2000 to July 2002. For him, the usefulness of having a space at SHAPE was substantive and presented several opportunities. First, at the more global level, Sánchez Mariño could see how NATO is far from being solely an instrument of American power and how Europe acts as a timely counterpoint to Washington on a number of issues. In an interview, Sánchez Mariño commented that ‘We had access to an organization in which it was clear to see the interaction among its members and how political and strategic discussions always brought to surface the cleavage between “hard” and “soft” power’ (Sánchez Mariño, 2010). For him, this actually represented an opportunity for Argentina to observe these tensions within NATO, listen to different voices and make known Argentina’s interests. Further, Sánchez Mariño noted, NATO, the European pillar of NATO in particular, is an organization that continually seeks to have the greatest possible legitimacy within and outside Europe. For NATO, knowing that Argentina was present in the organization and supported its actions in Bosnia–Herzegovina and then in Kosovo was an important source of legitimacy, especially when international law did not seem to give NATO a green light for its actions in Kosovo. Second, at the regional level, Sánchez Mariño believed that Argentina’s approach to NATO was a way, together with its rapprochement with the US, to counterbalance the increasing role that Brazil was having in the region and, of course, its global reach based on the search for a permanent seat at the UN Security Council. However, this led to important costs. First, when Argentina was designated ‘Major Non-NATO Ally’ by the US, and then later when it decided to participate in NATO forces in Kosovo, the region, including Chile


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and Brazil, did not react well to such news, considering that it would affect the balance of power in the Southern Cone. Third, in the military dimension, Sánchez Mariño considered that having a hundred or more Argentine soldiers rotating every six months in Bosnia–Herzegovina was an excellent opportunity to learn to work with forces from other countries, gain greater interoperability capabilities, and learn more about NATO standards. Every year, NATO conducted two exercises in the Balkans, and the Argentine brigades regularly participated alongside German, Italian, or British troops. Moreover, while there was a liaison at SHAPE, many Argentine officers participated in seminars and training courses offered by NATO in Italy (NATO Defense College) and Germany (NATO School). In short, at the global level, the political and military utility of NATO for Argentina could be presented as follows. Politically, Argentina had the possibility of 1. directly contributing to the consolidation of democracy, rule of law, and human rights advocacy, 2. increasing the credibility of Argentina in the international community in general and the West in particular, 3. gaining a wealth of information of high quality, impossible to obtain outside of the Alliance, 4. acquiring greater political experience in managing international crises and conflicts, 5. creating a climate of confidence to advance the bilateral negotiation with the United Kingdom regarding Malvinas/Falklands and, finally, 6. providing a strategy of linkages between the military and the economic sector. On the military level, for its part, Argentina could obtain at a relatively low cost: 1. training in demanding military environments involving the use of force, 2. access to classified military information, 3. training and professional experience at the individual level for all officers involved in operations, 4. direct access to procedures and doctrines that are among the most advanced in the world, and 5. participation in courses at Oberammergau (NATO School) and Rome (NATO Defense College).3 By 1999, Argentina had an MNNA designation by the US, a liaison at SHAPE, and had participated not only in the NATO attack on Kosovo but also in the peacekeeping forces that followed the conflict. The next step for Argentina would be to ask to become a member of the Alliance, as an associate member or a similar category to be established. This initiative was expressed in a letter sent on 8 July 1999 by President Carlos Menem to both President Bill Clinton and the NATO Council. Argentina’s proposal was to adopt


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a formula of transition in which the country could access the mechanisms provided by the PFPs. The central argument was that NATO represented the vanguard of the new world order, based on a cooperative security framework that went beyond a military alliance and formed a political community based on values of democracy and human rights. The reception of this letter in NATO and in Argentine public opinion caused some surprise. On the side of NATO, it was not clear that a Northern organization was able to accept a Southern country as a member. Locally, public opinion and opposition parties did not understand why there was so much interest in joining NATO and, more importantly, why the country had not prioritized its relationships with its neighbors, and was instead focusing on the relationship with US and Europe on security issues. NATO’s response came quickly and on 23 July Solana said that NATO was pleased to know that it had a partner like Argentina, ready to work with the organization. However, he noted, NATO was a EuroAtlantic organization and it only admitted candidate members from the northern hemisphere. An admission of Argentina, said Solana, implied a reform of the NATO Charter, something which was seen as very unlikely (Corigliano, 2003, p. 103). The rejection of Argentina’s application caused intense debate in the country and even created a conflict in Menem’s cabinet. The general idea of the critics was that Argentina’s request had clearly been a misperception. The mistake was to confuse a cooperative relationship with NATO with the possibility of actually obtaining NATO membership. By all accounts, Argentina was far away from NATO (La Nación, 1999). After 11 September and Argentina’s default Shortly after the attacks of 11 September, President Bush addressed the US Congress, declaring a ‘war on terrorism.’ This war would be seen as the defining paradigm in the struggle for global order. Three months later, Argentina’s interim President Adolfo Rodriguez Saá announced the country would suspend its foreign debt payments, triggering the biggest debt default in history. The 11 September events dramatically altered the international security agenda. Argentina, in line with the international


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community, condemned the attacks and expressed solidarity with the US government and its people. It further accompanied Bush’s decision to invade Afghanistan as a form of retaliation against al Qaeda. From this moment onward, however, both countries began to see the problem differently. For the US this was a new war to be fought in a preventive manner and based on coalitions of the willing. For Argentina, terrorism had to be addressed multilaterally and through international law. This meant, in practice, a firm opposition from Buenos Aires to the invasion of Iraq in 2003. It also implied a more general criticism of the militarization of US foreign policy, particularly the increasing role of the Southern Command in Latin America vis à vis the state department. Between December 2001 and January 2002 Argentina had three interim presidents, declared default on its foreign debt, and abandoned the peg between the peso and the dollar. The US had not been part of the problem but nor would it be part of the solution. The political elites sadly perceived that ten years of privileged relations with the US had not served to avoid the financial and political crisis of the country. The US did little to intercede against the IMF or even to volunteer as a last resort lender, an offer that it had not hesitated to do in Mexico or Brazil years before. From 2001 onward, Argentina experienced a sharp deterioration in its material and symbolic resources to look at the world from a fresh organizing principle. Argentina dropped from the ‘unusual claim to discuss its membership in alliances of developed countries (for example, requests for full membership in NATO) to the situation of being a potential source of instability in the region after the events of 2001’ (Tokatlian, 2004, p. 173).4 It was Néstor Kirchner, President between 2003 and 2007, who began to outline a new foreign policy, away from the US and closer to South America. The central line was to question the domestic and international pattern adopted by Argentina during the 1990s, criticizing the Washington Consensus for putting the country on a precipice, and rejecting the Free Trade Area for the Americas (FTAA). Further, Kirchner took on both a highly critical tone of the international financial agencies and a debt reduction plan, trying to get a larger margin of autonomy and independence from the IMF and the World Bank. Finally, Kirchner made the region the priority area of


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his foreign policy, emphasizing the importance of Mercado Común del Sur (MERCOSUR, the Southern Common Market) and opening the possibility of adding up new members to the bloc (Russell, 2008). These changes in foreign policy would have an impact on the design of defense and security policies. Argentina slowly began to move away from the discussion of the global agenda, placing more of its emphasis on South America. In this new context, it was perceived, Argentina had little to do with the US in Iraq or with its NATO partners cooperating in Afghanistan. The result was that after 2006 Argentina stopped sending a liaison to SHAPE (Sánchez Mariño, 2010). The rationale behind this decision is far from clear, apart from typical budgetary matters. Today, the potential for Argentina to regain a lost space within NATO is rather low. The international context has not become friendly to multilateralism nor has Argentina’s international identity been comfortable in working with an alliance which is perceived more as the soft wing of US power than the hard wing of UN missions. Furthermore, today NATO is undergoing a period of intense discussion about its future. What kind of NATO will emerge is also a variable to consider, given what kind of utility it would have for Argentina. In particular, there are three areas of debate that Argentina should follow closely (Belkin et al., 2009). First, in defining its mission, some NATO members believe that NATO should be ready to lead ‘out-of-area missions,’ such as when a task force provided logistical support in the Darfur region upon the request of the African Union. Others, however, believe that NATO should focus on the collective defense of its own territory. Second, in terms of membership, some believe that NATO should continue to expand and include as many like-minded countries willing to commit to the preservation of a stable and democratic international order. Others fear, however, that this expansion will only bring more difficult choices in defining tasks, making decisions, and allocating responsibilities. Finally, some allies would like to include the whole social spectrum related to security and post-conflict reconstruction, electoral assistance, humanitarian aid, health emergency, and conflict management. Others believe that NATO should focus on its military dimension and hard military power.


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Depending on how this debate unfolds, there will be at least two possible scenarios. The first scenario would be a NATO as a global projection force, with a growing membership and a security management that combines hard and soft power. The second scenario would be a NATO more attached to its territory, with a more inclusive membership and a security management based primarily on hard military power. These two scenarios are in line with the analysis proposed by Håkan Edström (see this volume), who distinguishes between a NATO that functions as a ‘club’ based on Article 5 and transatlantic interests, and a NATO that functions as a ‘society’ based on more partners and global interests. It is likely that the new strategic concept will fall somewhere in between these two positions, assuming a greater interest in caring for the neighborhood but admitting the possibility of working together with the UN and various regional organizations. Although defining what is the most likely scenario exceeds the goal of this chapter, it is clear that the first option, NATO as a global force, will be viewed as having greater utility for Argentina than a defensive NATO more secluded in its territory. Regardless of the results of this hypothetical debate, the hard fact is that NATO today is practically a non-issue in the defense policy of Argentina. This fact not only has to do with the present role of NATO but also with the relationship between Argentina and the US.

Argentina, the US, and NATO as a complement The utility of NATO to Argentina was not only conditioned by the changing nature of international security but also by the bilateral relationship between Washington and Buenos Aires, in particular Argentina’s designation as a Major Non-NATO Ally. During long periods of its history Argentina defined its relationship with the US in terms of autonomy, short of direct confrontation but always seeking political independence both in domestic and foreign policy decisions (Norden and Russell, 2002, p. 1). Ever since the arrival of Carlos Menem to the presidency, however, the bilateral relationship between Argentina and the US took a turn that no one had imagined. The end of the Cold War, on the one hand, and the rise to power in Argentina of an internationalist coalition, on the other, opened the door for both countries to initiate a new stage based on dialogue and on the convergence of values.


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The liberal interregnum The Gulf War in 1990–91 was undoubtedly the opportunity for Argentina to make explicit its new orientation and ‘marked the beginning of Argentina’s military partnership with the US’ (Norden and Russell, 2002, p. 84). Argentina’s decision to join the US-led military coalition may be explained as a desire to send a message to the US rather than any material interest that the country could have on the conflict between Iraq and Kuwait. With this cooperation, more symbolic than material, Argentina began a path of rapprochement with the US in a manner never seen in its history. This partnership continued through the support of the US proposed invasion and occupation of Haiti in 1995 and was further reflected in a number of concrete moves to match words with deeds. First, Argentina significantly altered its pattern of votes at the UN. In 1989, when Menem took office, the percentage of coincidence between Argentina and the US was 13.3 per cent. In 1991 the figure would go up to 41 per cent, reaching its closest match in 1995, with almost 70 per cent of coincidence (Corigliano, 2003). Second, in the area of nuclear non-proliferation, Argentina agreed in 1991 to dismantle the Condor II missile project, a major concern in the US at that time. Third, Argentina became engaged in a number of multilateral regimes that would bind its security policies to those of the US. It thus became a full member of the Australia Group (December 1992), joined the Missile Technology Control Regime (November 1993), adhered to the group of Nuclear Supplier Countries (March 1994), and joined the Wassenaar Accord in Vienna (March 1996). Further, between November 1993 and December 1994 the Argentine Congress approved the Treaty of Tlatelolco and the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). External recognition of this transformation came from Washington when, on 16 October 1997, Bill Clinton, on a visit to Argentina, announced his intention to designate Argentina as a Major NonNATO Ally. Having been elected MNNA, Argentina became the eighth nation in the world to have this status and the first in Latin America. Jeffrey Davidow, at that time Assistant Secretary for Inter-American Affairs at the state department, justified the designation of Argentina as MNNA as a ‘recognition of the importance of Argentina’s leadership and cooperation in the field of international peacekeeping, notably during Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm, in Haiti, in


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its role in supervising the peace between Peru and Ecuador, and in nearly a dozen other international peacekeeping efforts.’ And then he commented on the implications this designation would have: ‘Argentina would be eligible for benefits such as priority delivery of excess defense articles and participation in cooperative research and development projects. I wish to stress that granting MNNA status to Argentina does not establish any mutual defense obligation, nor does it apply access to advanced weaponry, nor does it establish a strategic alliance’ (Davidow, 1997). The MNNA category was created in 1989 by the US to appoint allies who are not NATO members but cooperate very closely with Washington. Currently there are 14 states that enjoy this status.5 Countries designated as MNNA are eligible for a number of benefits. First, they are able to receive US-owned war reserve stockpiles on their territory and obtain US foreign assistance to purchase depleted uranium ammunition. Second, US Foreign Military Financing (FMF) may be used by the country for the commercial leasing of certain defense articles. Third, they can also enter into agreements with the US government for the cooperative furnishing of training, on a bilateral or multilateral basis, provided the agreements are based on financial reciprocity. Fourth, they have the right to loans of materials, supplies, or equipment for purposes of cooperative research, development, testing, or evaluation. Finally, they may enjoy expedited US export license approval, as appropriate, for US companies to deliver commercial satellites, their components, and systems (Reficco, 1998, p. 82). Reactions in Argentina to the new status granted by the US were mixed but the generally prevailing feeling was that, at the end of the day, little had changed for the country and for the US. For some it was a designation that would hardly go beyond the symbolic. For others it meant more a recognition for past achievements than a commitment toward the future. For the Argentine Foreign Minister, Guido Di Tella (1999), the granting to Argentina of MNNA status symbolized not only a shift in the bilateral relationship but also the visible mark of an Argentina that had returned to the West. NATO, thus, was neither just a military alliance nor a relic of the Cold War but represented one of the world’s leading organizations of the post-Cold War inspired by Western values. Put another way, Argentine incentives for acquiring MNNA status were not based on a logic of security, as may have been


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the case for Israel, South Korea, Egypt, or Japan, but on a logic of identity (Merke, 2008). The direct alliance with the US and the direct relation with NATO gave to Argentina an international image of a stable, predictable country which was now fully integrated into the Western structures. Furthermore, NATO was also seen as an institution that could facilitate the new identity of the Argentine Armed Forces, further away from domestic issues and closer to international responsibilities relating to collective and human security. The US, meanwhile, would have several incentives for granting Argentina the MNNA status (Larrinaga, 2000). First, Argentina had been doing an excellent job in terms of responsibilities assumed in the region and the world, particularly in the Gulf War (being the only Latin American country to send troops), in the Haitian crisis, the Peru–Ecuador conflict, Rwanda, Mozambique, Cyprus, and the former Yugoslavia. The US concluded that granting MNNA status would be an excellent way to recognize the job done by Argentina in the field of international security. Second, having an ally in the Southern Cone would be vital to strengthen the US presence in the MERCOSUR trading bloc which had grown on the backs of American leadership. Third, Bill Clinton was determined at that time to continue negotiations for the FTAA (Free Trade Area of the Americas) and the alliance with Argentina would be a good foothold in the Southern Cone. Fourth, the US felt that this appointment could motivate other countries in the region to follow the model of Argentine cooperation and commitment to the liberal international order.6 In sum, the US rewarded Argentina with MNNA status ‘at least as much for Argentina’s role in the international community as for Argentina’s loyalty specifically to the United States’ (Norden and Russell, 2002, p. 89). Further, it represented a low-cost opportunity for the US to seize its unipolar moment and extend its hemispheric grip. On Argentina’s side, receiving the MNNA designation meant less an increase in security than an opportunity to ascend to the West and join an alliance that represented the prime modernity. The external reactions to this designation were not long in coming. At the global level, the UK did not receive this designation with open arms. After conversations with Washington, however, the Foreign Office recognized that the military and political reality of Argentina had changed substantially since the war in the Falklands/Malvinas in 1982 and therefore accepted the MNNA designation. As a result,


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President Carlos Menem made use of the designation and visited UK where he was received by the Queen in October 1998. The following year, Prince Charles visited Buenos Aires. As a result of this new relationship, the British embargo of arms to Argentina was lifted. At the regional level, neither Brazil nor Chile received the designation of MNNA with enthusiasm. On the Brazilian side, concern focused on the implications of increased US influence in the region. Former President José Sarney said that it was all about a US attempt to destabilize the relationship between MERCOSUR members (Larrinaga, 2000, p. 143). On the Chilean side, the focus of concern was placed in security under the argument that the designation would cause friction and instability in the military balance. Chile’s Foreign Minister even traveled to Washington for an explanation. The response he received was that it was mainly a symbolic category, open to other countries in the region (Larrinaga, 2000, p. 143). With the designation of Argentina as MNNA, bilateral relations with Washington in the field of defense took a giant leap forward, increasing official visits, military contacts, cooperation agreements, and integration of forces at the hemispheric level. These relationships, however, did not have a correlate at the level of financial facilities, transfer of arms, or military assistance (Sánchez Mariño, 2010). After 11 September and Argentina’s default If during the 1990s the working assumption was that the best interests of the US were analogous to those of Argentina, this assumption has been gradually abandoned since Argentina’s default in 2001. In fact, the common perception within the elite was that the Bush administration had allowed Argentina to fall because it had neither the economic relevance of Mexico nor the strategic importance of Turkey. This reality helped Argentina ‘to understand better its country’s place within the US’ hierarchy of foreign interests, and the limits of the alliance shaped in the 1990s’ (Norden and Russell, 2002, p. 129). The growing gap between the interests of the two countries became apparent in November 2005, during the Fourth Summit of the Americas held in Argentina. The summit’s agenda was the discussion of a Free Trade Area, a project that had reached the summit almost dead. On that occasion, Néstor Kirchner took the opportunity


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to criticize Bush for his unilateral policies and the US for promoting an economic model that had caused Argentina’s economic crisis. On this occasion, too, Kirchner hosted a civil society summit, ironically led by Hugo Chávez, which took place while the official summit was going on, and sought to rally the nationalist and left wing forces around a deep criticism to the US and the neoliberal ideology. On the US side, Argentina started to be seen as an erratic, unpredictable country, difficult to pigeonhole in the ideological spectrum of South America. Further, in terms of material interests, Argentina is not in the migration agenda (now occupied by Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean), nor is it in the trade and investment flows (such as is the case for Mexico or Brazil) nor in the energy equation (such as Venezuela) nor the flow of drugs (such as Colombia and Mexico). Nor is it an important country in receiving help, like Colombia (Russell, 2008, p. 94). From Argentina’s vantage point, there is the perception that US is a country that ‘weighs less on the fate of the country and its international margin of maneuver’ (Russell, 2008, p. 95). As for the material interests of Argentina, the agenda is related more to the region than with Washington, as is the case for the issues of energy, infrastructure, development, production integration, or migration. Further, the increased presence of China and India in the region stimulated the idea that the international system has become more multipolar and that this is essentially something good for Argentina. In summary, for various reasons, Argentina and the US seem to agree on the desire to leave the category of MNNA alone. On the one hand, the perception in Washington is that Argentina has ceased to be a valuable ally to push an agenda of security based on liberal democracy and the war on terrorism. On the other hand, the perception in Buenos Aires is that the category of MNNA is part of a neoliberal past that nobody wants to bring back. As a result, the idea of NATO as a complement to the US has lost its significance in a new environment in which it is the very relationship with the US that is under scrutiny. Simply put, everything seems to indicate that the designation of Argentina as a MNNA was the result of the unipolar moment, read as benign hegemony, and the Washington Consensus, understood as the construction of a neoliberal political identity.


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Regional security vis à vis the relation with the US and NATO Barry Buzan and Ole Wæver (2003, p. 4) argue that most security threats travel more easily over short distances than over long ones. The Southern Cone is no exception to this logic. This means that Argentina’s security agenda has to do essentially with what happens in South America in general and the Southern Cone in particular. Thus, part of the utility of NATO for Argentina will be given by the impact that this NATO–Argentina cooperation may have in the region. Put briefly, the dynamics of interstate security in the region more immediate to Argentina have to do with two triangles of relationships (Hurrell, 2005). A first triangle is formed by Argentina, Brazil, and Chile, the three countries with the highest relative weight in South America in terms of economic development and international outreach. This triangle was historically based on cooperation between Chile and Brazil and continuing distrust between Argentina and Chile, on the one hand, and Argentina and Brazil, on the other. The distrust with Chile was based essentially on territorial disputes, which nearly ended up in war in 1978 and was only averted by Vatican mediation. The distrust with Brazil, meanwhile, was based on the struggle between the two states for regional leadership and served as the main conflict hypothesis on each side. The second triangle is formed by Argentina, Brazil, and the US. While the possibility of war never existed, very rarely have the three states converged around a shared international orientation. Simply put, the US was typically a state that balanced the relationship between Argentina and Brazil. Thus, when Argentina had more relative power than Brazil, Itamaraty (the Brazilian Ministry of Foreign Affairs) sided with Washington as a way to find an umbrella of protection and, at the same time, gain legitimacy as a regional leader. Meanwhile, when the balance of forces favored Brazil, Argentina sought to align itself with the US, as happened during the 1990s. The liberal interregnum The 1990s seemed to present a rosy picture which would enable a virtuous cycle between these two triangles. At the hemispheric level,


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the triangle with the US enhanced cooperation in the security sector (such as drug trafficking, organized crime, and terrorism), which enabled greater rapprochement between Argentina and the US. These were the years of benign hegemony, neoliberalism, the promotion of democracy, and open regionalism, all of them values which fostered greater cooperation on security issues.7 At the regional level, the 1990s consolidated the positive relationship between democracy, economic integration, and desecuritization of relations between Argentina, Brazil, and Chile (Buzan and Wæver, 2003, p. 323). With Brazil, Argentina stepped up military exchanges and combined exercises aimed at complementing capacities and building a greater scope for interoperability. On 18 June 1991, Argentina and Brazil signed at Guadalajara the Agreement for the Exclusively Peaceful Use of Nuclear Energy and created the Argentine–Brazilian Agency for Accounting and Control (ABACC). The creation of ABACC was indeed a key arrangement implemented by Argentina and Brazil, which jointly defined nuclear policy in both countries. This explains why, after the setting up of ABACC, resistances to the signing of Tlatelolco Treaty and the NPT would decline. In less than five years, Argentina and Brazil ratified both. The relationship with Chile followed a parallel course. Between 1990 and 1991, 20 border disputes were resolved, leaving two of them in the hands of international tribunals. On 9 November 1995 both countries signed a memorandum of understanding covering various topics such as confidence-building measures, mutual consultation processes, and greater transparency of information relating to defense spending. As a result, a Permanent Security Committee was established, charged with designing a work program between both countries. One concrete result of this Committee was the joint request made to the ECLAC (Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean) to come up with a methodology for analyzing the development of defense budgets in each country, and a shared mechanism for comparing them. Finally, in July 1998, Argentina announced the elimination of a conflict hypothesis with Chile. It was not easy for Argentina during the 1990s to integrate both triangles, in particular the relationship with Brazil. First, the 1990s proved to be one of the greatest moments of convergence between Latin America and the US. On the other hand, however, Brazil


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established a relationship with the region and with the US based on the search for autonomy and on the definition of Brazil as a regional power with global projection seeking a permanent seat at the UN Security Council. Thus, Argentina and Brazil did not always have the same outlook on international security. For instance, although both countries concurred on the foundations of international security such as multilateralism, respect for international law, and respect for UN Security Council decisions, Brazil was more reluctant than Argentina in working with UN in terms of humanitarian intervention. Brazil even opposed the intervention in Kosovo, arguing that use of force had been decided unilaterally. Brazil also abstained from intervening in Rwanda and Haiti in 1994, arguing in favor of sovereignty and non-intervention. While Argentina hesitated less to work under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, Brazil has always sought to resolve disputes under Chapter VI. Last, the evolution of a more liberal agenda in Argentina (with the US) as opposed to a more orthodox one (with Brazil) found its most important sticking point when Bill Clinton designated Argentina MNNA in 1997. From Argentina, the designation was used to balance the rising power of Brazil and Chile in the region. By Brazil and Chile the appointment was viewed negatively; they argued that it would further US interference in the region and block any regional design in the security sector. As I showed in the previous sections, Argentina’s rapprochement with NATO during the 1990s was furthered along two lines. The first one was related to Argentina’s participation in peacekeeping forces in Bosnia–Herzegovina and Kosovo led by the Alliance. This signaled the beginning of increased diplomatic and military cooperation which came to count on an Argentine liaison to Mons. The second line had to do with the designation by the US of Argentina as MNNA. Although this was a bilateral move, it would open up more space for dialogue and cooperation with other NATO members. Even though these two avenues of cooperation crossed at all times, Chile and Brazil made different assessments of them. On the one hand, while they did not share the enthusiasm for international security and the imposition of democracy and human rights, both countries accepted that this was a decision to be respected. On the other hand, however, upon receiving the news of the designation of MNNA, they perceived that there was more at stake than simple enthusiasm. Put


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simply, the problem was not NATO values but US power. Argentina, thus, had to pay a price for a regional alliance with Washington. It thought it would be possible to balance both wheels of its foreign policy (Brazil/Mercosur and the US) but eventually found that the upgrade issued by Washington had more regional costs than global benefits. The most important lesson to learn from these years was that the relationship with NATO will always be seen in the region through the lens of the bilateral relationship with the US. This means that every relation with NATO furthered by Argentina would be linked with a regional security design that does not involve zero-sum games. In other words, the political and military utility of NATO for Argentina will be even greater if the region perceives that this bilateral utility can be translated into a profit for the whole region. After 11 September and Argentina’s default And yet, five years after the designation of Argentina as MNNA, these lessons soon lost any ground from which they could be used. The Argentine default, the regional disenchantment with the Washington Consensus, the turn to the right in Washington and the turn to the left in the region were all factors that worked against an Argentine approach to the US, much less to NATO. There are four dynamics to consider that account for the new developments in regional security and which have constructed obstacles to a close relationship between Argentina and NATO (Merke, 2009). First, the triangle between Argentina, Brazil, and the US seems to have lost weight in its interaction logic since the appearance of a new regional player, Venezuela, which poses a profound rejection of the US presence in the region. Actually, it would be appropriate to speak of a triangle between the US, Brazil, and Venezuela, where Brazil plays the role of bridge builder as a state capable of: 1. containing the US political pressures in the region, and 2. moderating Hugo Chávez’s radical postures toward the North. Having lost power to Brazil, Argentina seems to be testing a closer relationship with Venezuela as a way to balance the rise of Brasilia. Second, because of its global war against terrorism, the US has put a greater emphasis on the military dimension of its approach to the region. Today much of the dialogue between Washington and the capitals of South America is via the Southern Command, not the state


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department. This trend partly reflects the divergent agendas between the US, focused on terrorism, rogue states, and nuclear weapons, and the agenda of the region, more concerned with development, energy, and natural resources. This gap between the US and South America is also occurring with the loss of legitimacy of the Organization of American States (OAS) to resolve conflicts and the rise of the Union of South American Nations (UNASUR), the Rio Group, and the South American Defense Council as preferred venues for solving conflicts in the region.8 Finally, the US decline in symbolic capital both explains and reflects a trend in the region that seeks to find a place under the sun of the global South. Even though it is difficult to identify a coherent, organized pattern it is possible to locate different moves that have led to the increased presence in the region of extra-hemispheric actors, such as Iran, China, India, and Russia. Although these are different countries with varying weights and sizes and therefore with distinct preferences, it is clear that the US is far from assuring its ultimate influence in the region. The third dynamic is the global rise of Brazil and its impact on the regional security agenda. As a member of the G20, a guest at the G8 meetings, IBSA member (India, South Africa, and Brazil), and part of the BRIC group (Brazil, Russia, India, and China) Brazil is expanding its presence around the world. At the regional level, Brazil has been the chief grammatical builder of ‘South America’ as a cognitive region that needs to be thought of as a whole. This vision had its practical side in late 2007 when Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva proposed the creation of a South American Defense Council (CSD) as a UNASUR Agency. Composed of 12 countries,9 the CDS was formally established in March 2009 and aims to ‘consolidate South America as a zone of peace, to build an identity on defense matters and generate a consensus to strengthen regional cooperation.’ More specifically, the CDS aims to analyze and discuss a joint vision on defense, promoting the exchange of information, putting forward joint positions in the region, and promoting military exchange and training (CDS, 2010). There are three logics to explain this regional security body. The first logic, in tune with a realist lens, has to do with the rise of Brazil in the regional arena and its desire to legitimize hegemony, prevent regional balance, and reduce the incentives for defection. With this logic, the CSD excludes the US from the region in an attempt to gain


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greater autonomy. The second approach, drawn from political economy, has to do with Brazil’s desire to boost industrial development by creating a Brazil-led regional market of defense. The third logic is more in tune with the liberal or institutionalist script. The general idea is that the CSD will channel cooperation in the defense sector, disseminate information among members, reduce uncertainty, and promote a network of collective norms about the role of the military and the use of force. In short, power, regional development, and governance seem to be three strong incentives for the design of regional security bodies. Finally, the fourth security dynamic is also tied to the creation of the CSD, although its development is further beyond the rising power of Brazil. Put briefly, although the proposed establishment of the CSD has been received positively by the various states in the region, there still remains a major problem for consolidation: the different securitization processes that hinder dialogue at the regional level. On the one hand, Brazil sees as its main security threat any external force (the US or NATO) that seeks to restrain sovereignty over the ‘green’ Amazon (the forest) and across the ‘blue’ Amazon (the Atlantic Ocean). Chile, meanwhile, has two security problems, one with landlocked Bolivia, which claims an exit to the sea, the other with Peru on sea borders in the Pacific Ocean. Further, Argentina considers it crucial to protect its natural resources in general and the Guaraní Aquifer in particular. It also has an ongoing conflict with a NATO member, the United Kingdom, for oil exploration the latter currently performs near Malvinas/Falkland Islands. Moreover, for Colombia, the main security threat is the narco-guerrillas, who are more of an internal threat than external. Hugo Chávez’s Venezuela, for its part, believes there is permanent danger of being invaded by US troops, who would enter the country through a cooperative Colombia. Finally, Bolivia is in a process of national ‘re-foundationalism’ along ethnic, economic, and political lines and, therefore, its main object of security is the very survival of the new political regime. How all these security agendas will be articulated in a regional forum such as the CSD is hard to predict. NATO had its point of cohesion in the shared securitization of the Soviet threat. With the end of the Cold War, its security agenda sought to find a consensus on the defense of democracy and human rights within and outside Europe, at least in the near abroad. It is pretty clear that the CDS will not follow NATO’s path, nor will it try to do so in the short to medium


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term. Collective security implies a shared understanding about what kind of force has been banned. It also implies a shared acceptance that the threat to peace puts the interests of all states at risk, and thus it implies the willingness, at least in theory, to enforce the law and to protect the interests of all states, even by the use of force. While the region has a high level of cooperation in security matters, it is still far from achieving the kind of fundamental agreement that the libretto of collective security requires. Put simply, NATO is far from serving as a model for the region. Although the CSD will not be a ‘Southern NATO,’ it is worth noting that today’s NATO does not look like yesterday’s NATO. The ‘old’ NATO was a collective security alliance according to the libretto explained above. However, the distinctive feature of the ‘new’ NATO is not its Article 5, but rather its regulatory power that has managed to socialize new members within a framework of democratic rules, rule of law, and desecuritization of relations among neighbor states. In this sense, the CSD could, albeit very slowly, resemble this new feature of NATO and provide a space for socialization of rules concerning the use of force, the relationship between civilians and military, transparency in military spending, acquisition of armaments, and cooperation on issues of regional and international security. At least in theory, regional organizations serve as an anchor of shared norms, provide a voice to smaller states, and can serve to restrict the preferences of the most powerful. Further, regional organizations raise costs of exclusion, particularly for smaller states. These ideas partly explain why the Brazilian proposal enjoyed wide acceptance and how different states saw in the CSD the possibility to control or restrict potential unilateral moves by major states. These dynamics are crucial to understand the utility of NATO for Argentina. The development of the CSD would serve as a regional forum to generate a productive dialogue with NATO, in particular lessons learned in institutional building, military cooperation, and interoperability in the levels of command, control, and communication.

Conclusion This chapter presented an analysis of the political and military utility of NATO for Argentina. Its main conclusions can be presented according to three levels of analysis.


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Globally, the utility of NATO for Argentina had to do with the projection of legitimacy of the country and the opportunity to participate in an active way in the reshaping of the international security agenda. Second, the presence of Argentine officers in Belgium was an excellent opportunity to closely observe the inner logic of the Alliance and Europe’s role in serving as a counterpoint to the US. Third, while the participation of Argentine troops in the NATO-led missions allowed them to gain experience in the field and get training at various levels of planning. Regionally, the utility of NATO had to do with prestige and balance of power patterns (vis à vis Brazil and Chile) and with an attempt to articulate regional dynamics in security with NATO’s agenda. Although some voices considered that the experience of NATO could serve to develop regional security mechanisms, in fact no state has been willing to go beyond a cooperative security arrangement. The relationship of Argentina with NATO, either via Brussels or Washington, only caused discomfort in Brazil and Chile, Argentina’s privileged partners in the regional integration of trade and investment. Whereas in 1990s, South America appeared headed toward a pattern of convergence with the US, structured around FTAA and inspired by a Pan-American dimension of liberal values, today the region presents a more diversified picture. And yet, public opinion in the region is still more inclined to put forward strong critiques to US imperialism, neoliberalism, free trade, and globalization. This ‘postliberal moment’ certainly does not work in favor of a rapprochement with NATO, an Alliance that is no longer seen as the vanguard of the new international order based on multilateralism and is now seen as the armed wing of an international order based on unilateralism. Regarding Argentine relations with the US, the designation as MNNA was seen as a recognition of a role that Argentina decided to play during the 1990s. Argentina used this designation as a shortcut to becoming a full member of NATO, something which was clearly very difficult to achieve. Furthermore, Argentina also used the designation to put pressure on the UK to sit at the UN table and negotiate the conflict over the Malvinas/Falkland dispute. Finally, at the domestic level, the utility of NATO had several faces. First, cooperation with NATO helped build the international identity of Argentina as a Western country committed to democracy, peace,


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and human rights. Second, NATO, along with the UN, served to channel the interest of the military beyond national security, under the framework of a democratic defense policy. This utility, however, lost weight in a country that began to shift its foreign and defense policies away from the lines of NATO and the US. In summary, the increased participation of Argentina in international security arrangements, in general, and its collaboration with the UN, the US, and NATO, in particular, was the result of two structural changes, one at the international level, the other at the domestic one. These two changes heightened the Argentine interest in the utility of NATO. As made clear throughout the chapter, today the interests of the US/NATO and Argentina seem to be on separate tracks and there are no signs that either the international environment or Argentina’s international identity will operate a change in the short term. This does not mean that NATO is no longer useful for Argentina. What it does mean is that the utility will be defined in part by the international orientation of the Alliance and in part by the country’s international orientation.

Acknowledgments The author thanks Mary Coffman for her comments on an earlier version of this chapter.

Notes 1. President of Argentina Carlos Menem (1989–99) put it this way: ‘The new direction of foreign policy turns Argentina into a fully integrated player in a world that no longer allows isolation. In this new reality the world’s problems are the problems of Argentina. And this means taking sides in favor of those who hold the principles of peace and freedom in the resolution of international conflicts [ . . . ] [because] the worst evil that we can suffer in this decade is to get isolated from the great adventure of building a universal civilization’ (Menem, 1991, p. 8). 2. By that time, Argentina was one of the 12 member countries of the Security Council that rejected the Russian draft resolution demanding an immediate halt to the NATO attacks against Yugoslavia. 3. I am indebted to Colonel Horacio Sánchez Mariño for helping me put these ideas together. 4. The title of an article in Foreign Affairs (Pastor and Wise, 2001) captured perfectly the passage from one state to another: ‘From Poster Child to Basket Case.’


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5. In 1989, Australia, Egypt, Israel, Japan, and Korea were designated as MNNAs. In 1996, Jordan; in 1997, New Zealand; in 1998, Argentina; in 2002, Bahrain; in 2003, Philippines, and Thailand; and in 2004, Kuwait, Morocco, and Pakistan. 6. In Clinton’s words: ‘We accorded the major non-NATO ally status to Argentina because of the truly extraordinary efforts that have happened just in the 1990s [ . . . ] There is hardly a country in the world that has anything approaching the record of the Argentine military in being willing to stand up for the cause of peace. We believe that we should be sending a signal that this is the policy that other countries should follow’ (quoted in Larrinaga, 2000, p. 133). 7. The Conference of Defense Ministers of the Americas held in Williamsburg in July 1995 marked somehow the positive climate in this direction by setting the principles of inter-American security in what later became known as the ‘Williamsburg Principles,’ which acted as a sort of mirror to the NATO requirements for access to the Partnerships for Peace: 1. advocacy of democracy as the basis for security, 2. reintegration of the military to democratic life, 3. subordination of armed forces to the rule of law, 4. greater transparency in defense matters (doctrines, budgets, operations, and so on), 5. negotiated resolution of conflicts in the region and, 6. defense cooperation and joint participation at the UN. 8. This became clear in the domestic political crisis faced by Evo Morales in Bolivia (discussed in the UNASUR), the conflict between Ecuador and Colombia after the Colombian incursion into Ecuadorian territory to capture FARC troops (discussed in Rio Group), the concession of Colombia to provide military bases to the US (discussed in a South American Defense Council meeting), and the civilian-military coup suffered by Manuel Zelaya in Honduras (discussed partly in the OAS and partly in the Rio Group). 9. Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, Chile, Ecuador, Guyana, Paraguay, Perú, Surinam, Venezuela, and Uruguay.

References Belkin, P., Ek, C., Mages, L. and Mix, D. E. (2009) ‘NATO’s 60th Anniversary Summit’, Congressional Research Service, 14 April 2009. Buzan, B. and Wæver, O. (2003) The Structure of International Security (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Camilión, O. (1994) ‘Argentina and NATO’, in Fontana, A. (ed.) ArgentinaNATO. Perspectives on Global Security (Buenos Aires: Grupo Editor Latinoamericano), pp. 32–34. CARI (2008) Opinión Pública sobre Política Exterior y Defensa (Buenos Aires: CARI). Corigliano, F. (2003) ‘La Dimensión Bilateral de las Relaciones entre Argentina y Estados Unidos Durante la Década de 1990: El Ingreso al Paradigma de las


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Relaciones Especiales’, in C. Escudé y A. Cisneros (eds) Historial General de las Relaciones Exteriores de la República Argentina (Buenos Aires: Nuevohacer), pp. 20–205. Davidow, J. (1997) Statement at the Hearing before the Subcommittee on the Western Hemisphere of The Committee on International Relations, House of Representatives, 8 October http://commdocs.house.gov/committees/ intlrel/hfa44953.000/hfa44953_0.htm, date accessed 15 February 2010. Di Tella, G. (1999) ‘Las Alianzas que Convienen’, La Nación, 4 July 1999. Diamint, R. (ed.) (2001) La OTAN y los Desafíos en el Mercosur. Comunidades de Seguridad y Estabilidad Democrática (Buenos Aires: Nuevohacer y Universidad Torcuato Di Tella). Fontana, A. (ed.) (1994) Argentina–NATO. Perspectives on Global Security (Buenos Aires: Grupo Editor Latinoamericano). Fontana, A. (1998) ‘La Seguridad Internacional y la Argentina en los Años 90’, in A. Cisneros (ed.) Política Exterior de Argentina 1989–1999. Historia de un Exito (Buenos Aires: Nuevohacer), pp. 275–341. de Hoop Scheffer, J. (2009) ‘The Future of the Atlantic Alliance’, Lecture given at Chatham House on 20 July 2009, www.chathamhouse.org, date accessed 15 January 2010. Hurrell, A. (2005) ‘The United States and Brazil: Comparative Reflections’, in M. Hirst (ed.) The United States and Brazil. A Long Road of Unmet Expectations (New York: Routledge), pp. 73–107. La Nación (1999) ‘El Traspié en la OTAN’, 31 July 1999. Larrinaga, F. (2000) ‘Argentina, a New US Non-NATO Ally: Significance and Expectations’, Naval War College Review, Vol. 53, No. 2, pp. 125–57. Menem, C. (1991) ‘Argentina y Estados Unidos: Una Nueva Relación’, Actualización Política, No. 1, pp. 8–10. Menem, C. S. (1994) ‘Opening Remarks at the Seminar “Perspectives on Global Security” ’, in A. Fontana (ed.) Argentina–NATO. Perspectives on Global Security (Buenos Aires: Grupo Editor Latinoamericano), pp. 15–17. Merke, F. (2008) ‘Identidad y Política Exterior. La Argentina y Brasil en Perspectiva Histórica’, Sociedad Global, Vol. 2, No. 1–2, pp. 142–61. Merke, F. (2009) ‘South America and Hemispheric Security: The Challenge of Asymmetries’, in P. Fischer-Bollin (ed.) International Security: An European–South American Dialogue (Rio de Janeiro: Konrad-AdenauerStiftung), pp. 17–21. Norden, D. (1995) ‘Keeping the Peace, Outside and In: Argentina’s UN Missions’, International Peacekeeping, Vol. 3, No. 2, pp. 330–349. Norden, D. and Russell, R. (2002) The United States and Argentina: Changing Relations in a Changing World (New York: Routledge). Paradiso, J. (2007) ‘Ideas, Ideologías y Política Exterior Argentina’, Diplomacia, Estrategia y Política, Enero/Marzo, pp. 5–25. Pastor, M. and Wise, C. (2001) ‘From Poster Child to Baket Case’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 80, No. 6, pp. 60–72. Reficco, E. (1998) ‘Argentina como Aliado extra-OTAN de la Argentina’, Revista CIDOB de Afers Internacionals, Vol. 42, pp. 79–97.


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Russell, R. (2006) ‘América Latina para Estados Unidos: ¿Especial, Desdeñable, Codiciada o Perdida?’, Nueva Sociedad, noviembre/diciembre, 206, pp. 48–62. Russell, R. (2008) ‘La Relación Argentina–Estados Unidos’, Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica, Vol. 8, No. 4, pp. 92–8. Sánchez Mariño, H. (2005) ‘Una Alianza Exitosa’, Boletín del Instituto de Seguridad Internacional y Asuntos Estratégicos, Vol. 8, No. 34, pp. 7–10. Tokatlian, J. G. (2004) Hacia una Nueva Estrategia Internacional. El Desafío de Néstor Kirchner (Buenos Aires: Editorial Norma). Vittorangeli, A. E. (2001) ‘Las Fuerzas de Tareas Combinadas y Conjuntas de la OTAN. Una Ventana de Oportunidades para las FF.AA. Argentinas’, Boletín del Instituto de Seguridad Internacional y Asuntos Estratégicos, Vol. 4, No. 14, pp. 7–9. Zawels, E. (2000) Hacia un Sistema de Seguridad Colectiva para el Siglo XXI (Buenos Aires: Nuevohacer).

Interview Sánchez Mariño, H. (2010) Colonel, Liaison to SHAPE from July 2000 to July 2002 (17 March).


Index ABACC, see Argentine-Brazilian Agency for Accounting and Control (ABACC) ABCA, 47 Abkhazia, 74 Abu Sayyaf Group (ASG), 169 ACAK, see Argentine Joint Grouping (ACAK) ACO, see allied command operations (ACO) ADF, see Australian Defence Force (ADF) Afghanistan Australia’s role in, 41, 53–5 Bagram air base in, 172–3 COIN operations in, 34, 35 ISAF’s role in, 40, 116 NATO’s operations in, 45 1979 invasion of, 74 Oruzgan province in, 40, 50 PRT’s role in, 68 QDR role in war with, 34 summit meetings attended by, 44–5 Sweden’s role in, 118 Taliban of, strikes on, 170 Thailand role in war with, 172 United States’ role in, 28, 29, 32, 34, 35 Africa, 34, 43, 122 Agreement for the Exclusively Peaceful Use of Nuclear Energy, 198 Air Situation Data Exchange, 143 Air Standardization Coordinating Committee (ASCC), 47 Albania, 27, 28, 71 Alliance Australia’s role in, 40–1, 48, 50 benefits of, 44 Finland’s role in, 119

Japan’s role in, 43 Malta’s suspension from, 121–2 NATO’s future with, 148, 149 New Zealand’s role in, 43 PfP’s relationship with, 165 South Korea’s role in, 43 Sweden’s role in, 119 allied command operations (ACO), 148 al Qaeda attacks on September 11th, 2001, 28, 168 Pakistan’s strategic challenges with, 174 United States’ mission to capture, 173 Andersson, J., 118–19 Anglo-Saxon allies, 43 Ankara, 22 anti-NATO camp, 87 anti-piracy activity, 30 ANZAC frigates, 47 ANZUS, see US. Security Treaty (ANZUS) Aquifer, G., 202 Argentina, 181–205 Balkan’s partnership with, 6 Bosnia-Herzegovina’s partnership with, 186–7 Brazil’s partnership with, 11, 197–201 British embargo of arms lifted in, 195 Chile’s partnership with, 11, 197–9, 202 counterterrorism in, 168 following September 11th, 2001, 188–91 foreign policy in, 182–8 Fourth Summit of Americas in, 195–6 209


210

Index

Argentina – continued geographical location of, 181 global peacekeeping by, 187, 192–4 IMF’s independence from, 189 Kosovo’s partnership with, 185 liaisons’ in, 185–6 as ‘Major Non-NATO Ally,’ 186–7, 191, 192 MNNA’s role within, 6, 163, 166, 167–9 NATO’s partnership, 11–2 security agenda for, 181 security threats in, 197 tri-border of, 168 United Nation’s partnership with, 168, 185 United State’s partnership with, 13, 167–8, 191–203 Argentine-Brazilian Agency for Accounting and Control (ABACC), 198 Argentine Joint Grouping (ACAK), 185 Armenia, 60 Azerbadijan conflict with, 77 IPAPs of, 72 KFOR’s contributions to, 72, 78 NACC’s role in, 72 NATO’s partnership with, 5, 72, 77–8 PfP’s role in, 72 Russia’s role in, 60 ASCC, see Air Standardization Coordinating Committee (ASCC) ASEAN, see Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) ASG, see Abu Sayyaf Group (ASG) Ashizawa, K., 83 Asia-Pacific region, 51–2 Asmus, R. D., 25 Aspin, L., 25 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), 24 Atack, I., 114


AUSCANNZUKUS Naval C4 Organization, 47 Australia ADF’s role in, 51–2, 55 Alliance’s role in, 40–1, 50 Anglo-Saxon allies of, 46 Asia-Pacific region’s relationship with, 51–2 Atlantic Alliance’s role in, 41, 51–3 defense relationships with, 55 following Vietnam War, 48 FPDA’s role in, 47 global security affairs in, 52 Insensitive Munitions Information Centre relationship with, 48 military in, 40, 41, 50, 52, 53, 54 MNNA’s role with, 166 Multinational Interoperability Council formed by, 49 NATO’s partnership with, 2, 5, 6, 10, 47, 49–51, 54–5; allies, 46–9; global, 43–5 PfP’s role in, 40 policy of defense ‘self-reliance’ in, 41–2 population of, 41 quadrilateral dialogues of, 54 Royal Navy’s role within, 46 SEATO’s role in, 46–7 self-government of, 46 strategic policy of, 49 United Kingdom Ministry of Defence’s role in, 48 United Kingdom’s partnership with, 40 United Nations role with, 48 United State’s partnership with, 30, 40, 46, 47, 52, 53, 54 in World Wars, 46 Australia Group, 192 Australian Defence Force (ADF), 51 Austria CCMS, attendance to, 119 ISAF’s role in, 116 KFOR’s role in, 115

Index

MNNA’s role in, 66 NATO’s role in, 115, 120–1 PfP’s role in, 112, 115, 117, 120 reluctancy in, 114 Austrian Armed Forces, 120 AWACS aircraft, 28 Azerbadijan, 60 conflict in, 77 IPAP’s role in, 72 ISAF’s role with, 72 NACC’s role in, 72 NATO partnership with, 72, 77 PfP’s role in, 72 Badrak, V., 97, 101, 103 Bagram airbase, 172–3 Bahrain, 5, 30, 166 Balkans, 6, 26, 70, 71, 75–6, 78 Baltic countries, 27, 71 bandwagoning, 20 Banja Luka airport, 76 Barany, Z., 117, 124, 165 Barnes, I., 65–6 Barnes, P., 65–6 Baylis, J., 61 Beazley, K., 48 Betts, R. K., 16 Bezlushchenko, S., 93 B&H, see Bosnia-Herzegovina (B&H) Bilmes, L. J., 32 Biut, 87, 90 Black Sea, 22, 88 Blomberg, J., 119 Bogdanov, D., 105 Bolivia, 202 Bondarchuk, S., 103 Borawski, J., 115, 117 Borisov, Y., 104 Bosnia, 71 Bosniacs, 76 Bosnia-Herzegovina (B&H), 26, 75–6, 186–7 Bougainville, 52 Brazil, 11, 168, 187, 195, 197–201 Britain, 47


211

British embargo of arms, 195 British Empire, 46 Brown, M. E., 19 Bruni, J., 6 Brussels, 40, 61 Brzezinski, Z., 45, 176 Bucharest Summit (2008), 4, 23, 44–5 on Afghanistan, 44–5 on Georgia, 70, 72, 73, 85–6 on Ukraine, 85–6 Buenos Aires, 168, 185, 195 Bukkvoll, T., 10–12, 15, 60, 69, 81, 83–108 Bulgaria, 27, 71 bureaucratic process, 5 Burgess, L., 29 Burton, J., 29 Burundi, 172, 175 Bush, G. W., 20–2, 28, 30, 36, 166, 168–74, 176, 188–9, 195–6 Buszynski, L., 47 Buzan, B., 63, 197–8 Cambodia, 48 Camilión, O., 185 Canada, 43, 47, 49 CC, see Contact Countries (CC) CCEB, see Combined Communications Electronics Board (CCEB) CCMS, see Challenges of Modern Society (CCMS) CENTO, see Central Treaty Organization (CENTO) Central African Republic, 175 Central Asia, 43, 44, 60, 71 Central European states, 71 Central Treaty Organization (CENTO), 1 Centre Party, 133, 145–6 centre-right coalition, 141–8, 155–7 CFE, 151 Chad, 175

212

Index

Challenges of Modern Society (CCMS), 119 Chambers, P., 172 Chanlett-Avery, E., 172 Charter on a Distinctive Partnership, 23 Chávez, H., 196, 200, 202 Checkel, J., 83 Chernyshov, O., 93 Chile, 11, 186, 195, 197–9, 202 China, 33 ASEAN’s role in, 24 Britain’s partnership with, 24 Communist Party of, 31 economic growth in, 31–3 European Union’s partnership with, 24 France’s partnership with, 24 quadrilateral dialogues of, 54 United States partnership with, 20–2, 24, 31 Christian Democrats, 131–3, 142, 144–7 Christopher, W., 20 CIA, 171 Civil Emergency Planning, 118 Claes, W., 112 Clark, W., 185 Clinton, B., 20–1, 23, 26, 30, 166–9, 187, 192, 194, 199, 206 Clinton, H., 22 ‘Closer Defence Relations’ agreements, 52 ‘Coast-Watch South’ program, 170 Cobb, A., 171 CoE, see Council of Europe (CoE) Cohen, W. S., 22, 37, 166 COIN, see counterinsurgency (COIN) operations Collins, A., 47, 62 Collins-class submarines, 47 Colombia, 202 Colston, J., 101 Columbia, 34 Combined Communications Electronics Board (CCEB), 47


Combined Joint Task Forces, 113 conditionality, 66 Condor II missile project, 192 Conference of National Armaments Director’s Ammunition Safety Group, 48 Congo, 93 contact countries, 44 Contact Countries (CC), 4 cooperation, 145, 147 Cooperative Archer 2007, 72 Copenhagen criteria, 65 Cote D’Ivoire, 168, 175 Council of Europe (CoE), 62–3 Council of Ministers, 66 Council on Foreign Relations, 33 counterinsurgency (COIN) operations, 34–5 counterinsurgency warfare, 30 counterterrorism, 30, 168 Craig, G., 16 Croatia, 27, 71 Croats, 76 CSD, see South American Defense Council (CSD) Cyprus, 169, 194 Czech Republic Australia’s defense relationship with, 55 NATO’s enlargement in, 27 NATO’s partnership with, 71 PfP’s role with, 114 socialization in, 63 Daalder, I., 29, 40 Dahl, A.-S., 131 Danielsson, S., 142 Darabos, N., 121 Darfur, 170, 173, 175 da Silva, L. I. L., 201 Davidow, J., 192 Day, J., 184 Dayton Agreement, 76 Defence White Paper, 48, 51, 52, 54 de Hoop Scheffer, J., 44, 50 democratic peace theory, 63, 76–7

Index

democratization, 63, 65 Deni, J. R., 16 Denmark, 144 Desert Storm, 192 Deudney, D., 19–20 Deutsch, K. W., 16, 171–2 Disaster Response Coordination Centre, 140 Di Tella, G., 184, 193 Doherty, R., 112, 121 Dominguez, J., 168–9, 176 Downer, A., 50 DP, see NATO-Ukraine Charter on a Distinctive Partnership (DP) Duhalde, E., 168 EAPC, see Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC) Eastern European region, 3–4 Eastern Partner’s Initiative, 66 East Timor, 49, 52, 170, 171, 172, 173, 175 Ebdane, H., 171 ECLAC, see Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC) Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC), 198 Ecuador, 193 Edström, H., 191 Egypt, 5, 30, 166, 194 Egyptian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 22 Eikenberry, K., 35 Eklund, N., 134 Eliasson, J., 118 ENP, see European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) Enström, K., 142 Entacher, E., 121 Epstein, R., 51 Epstein, R. A., 124, 165 Ericsson, J., 118 Eritrea, 93 Estonia, 27, 29, 117


213

Ethiopia, 93 EU, see European Union (EU) EU-NATO Joint Operation Command, 150 Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC), 3, 121, 135, 139, 140 Euro-Atlantic region, 3 European allies, 43 European Commission (EC), see European Union (EU) European international organizations, 67 European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP), 2 European rim, 60–70, 75–8 see also specific countries European Union (EU), 1 China’s partnership with, 24 enlargement of, 65 ENP’s role in, 66 Ireland’s role in, 121 membership policy of, 2, 65–6 NATO’s role with, 5, 66 partnerships in: to memberships, 64–5; policies on, 2, 62–3, 66 Sweden’s role in, 134 European Union ‘neutrals,’ 112–27 contributions of, 117–225 history of, 113–4 ISAF’s role with, 116 PfP’s role with, 112, 114, 115, 117, 118 rationality of, 122–5 similarities within, 113–7 Evans, M., 46 Exchange of Letters (2005), 50 Exercise Cooperative Venture 94, 118 Fair, C. C., 174 Falklands War, 48 Fannie Mae, 31 Ferreira-Pereira, L. C., 112 Filipino diplomacy, 170 Finland Alliance’s role with, 119 CCMS, attendance to, 119

214

Index

Finland – continued ISAF’s role with, 116 KFOR’s role with, 115 MNNA’s role in, 66 NATO’s role in, 115, 119 PARP’s role with, 115, 119 PfP’s role in, 112, 114, 115, 117, 119–20 PRT’s role with, 116 reluctancy in, 114 SAC’s role in, 116 Finnish, 114 Finnish Defence Forces, 120 Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA), 47, 52, 53 FMF, see Foreign Military Financing (FMF) Fogh Rasmussen, A., 54, 56 force modernization, 118 Foreign Assistance Act (1961), 163 Foreign Military Financing (FMF), 193 Forsberg, T., 119 Fourth Summit of Americas, 195–6 FPDA, see Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA) France China’s partnership with, 24 European allies in, 43 INTERFET intervention, attendance to, 49 Multinational Interoperability Council formed by, 49 SEATO, founder of, 46–7 Freddie Mac, 31 Free Trade Area for the Americas (FTAA), 189, 194, 195 FTAA, see Free Trade Area for the Americas (FTAA) Frühling, S., 10–11, 13, 15–16, 40–56, 123, 126–7 Garrett, N. G. D., 177 Geda, E., 97 geo-political power, 62, 64 George, A., 16


Georgia Bucharest Summit, issues discussed at, 70, 72, 73, 85–6 Eastern Partner’s Initiative launched by, 66 enlargement in, 62 ‘Intensified Dialogue’ with, 72 IPAP’s role with, 72 ISAF’s role with, 73 KFOR’s role in, 72 MAP’s role in, 27–8, 64, 74, 85–6 NACC’s role in, 72 NATO’s partnership with, 73 nS-Cabinet security assistance to, 146 PfP’s role in, 72 Russia’s invasion of, 64, 70, 74 United States partnership with, 23 Georgia-NATO Commission, 71 Gerleman, D. J., 169 German Leopard tanks, 47 Germany, 29, 43, 49 Gheciu, A., 63, 79, 165 Gilpin, R., 31 Giragosian, R., 74 Glaser, C. L., 19 global economic crisis, 31 Global Partnership Forum, 44 global trade agreements, 2 Goetschel, L., 124, 126 Golan Heights, 170–1 Goldgeier, J. M., 29, 40 Gonzi, L., 121 Greater Middle East, 4 Greece, 29, 71 Green Party, 133, 136–8, 141 Grenstad, A., 118 Grey, J., 54–5 Groves, J. R., Jr., 124 Guadalajara, 198 Guha, K., 31 Gulf War, 194 Hague, 76 Haiti, 169, 170, 175, 185, 192, 199 crisis in, 194

Index

Häkämies, J., 120 Hambali, 171 Hamilton, D., 149–52 HAW, see Heavy Airlift Wing (HAW) Heavy Airlift Wing (HAW), 116 Hendrickson, R. C., 9–10, 14–15, 118, 163–77 Hirst, C., 49 Höfler, G., 121 Holbrooke, R., 174 Horbulin, V., 96, 98 Horgan, J., 121 Howard, J., 49 Hrytsenko, A., 89 Hungary, 27, 71 Huon-class minesweeping vessels, 47 hypothesis, 62, 63–4 ICI, see Istanbul Cooperation Initiative (ICI) IFOR, 26 Ikenberry, G. J., 19–20, 35 India, 54 Individual Partnership Action Plan (IPAP), 3, 71–2, 76, 77 Individual Partnership Program (IPP), 115 Indochina, 47 Indonesia, 53 Insensitive Munitions Information Centre, 48 instrumental rationality, 122–3 Integrated Air Defence System, 47 Intensified Dialogue, 72, 75 INTERFET intervention (1999), 49 international campaign against terrorism, 29 International Criminal Tribunal, 75 international organizations (IOs), 63, 67 international security, 182–8 International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) Afghanistan’s role in, 40, 44–5 Armenia’s role in, 78 Australia’s role in, 40


215

Austria’s role in, 116 Azerbadijan’s role in, 72, 77 B&H’s role in, 76 European Union’s ‘neutrals’ role in, 116 Finland’s role in, 116 Georgia’s role in, 73 Ireland’s role in, 116 Left Party’s role in, 136 NATO’s role in, 77 Sweden’s role in, 142 IO, see international organizations (IOs) IPAP, see Individual Partnership Action Plan (IPAP) IPP, see Individual Partnership Program (IPP) Iraq, 28, 34, 76, 93, 171 Ireland EU ‘neutrals’ role with, 112, 115, 117 European Union’s role in, 121 ISAF’s role with, 116 KFOR’s role with, 115–6 North Atlantic Alliance’s role in, 121 PfP’s role in, 112, 115, 117, 121 reluctancy in, 114 Irish, 114 ISAF, see International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) Israel, 5, 30 Istanbul, 44 Istanbul Cooperation Initiative (ICI), 4, 165 Istanbul Summit (2004), 4, 72 Italian Brigade, 185 Jain, P., 6 Janukovich, 60, 74 Jemaah Islamiya (JI), 169 JI, see Jemaah Islamiya (JI) Joint Multinational Readiness Center (US. Army), 55 Jones, J., 29 Jordan, 5, 30, 166

216

Index

Kamp, K.-H., 43, 149–51 Karadžic, R., 76 Karlsson, A., 136 Kaskela, J., 120, 172 Kastelli, V., 100 Katzenstein, P. J., 83 Kaufmann, C., 19 Kay, S., 8–9, 13–16, 18–37 Kazakhstan, 5, 60, 71–2 KFOR (NATO-led peacekeeping force in Kosovo), 72, 77, 78, 115–6 Kiev, 85, 86 Kihl, J., 118 Kilcullen, D., 46 Kirchner, N., 189, 195–6 Kissinger, H., 16 Koren, K. M., 88 Kosovo, 23–4, 48, 93, 175, 185, 186 Kucherk, V., 100 Kuchma, L., 74, 86, 92, 102 Kulish, N., 28 Kulyk, V., 95 Kuwait, 5, 30, 166 Kyrgyzistan, 71 Landingin, R., 169–70 Larrinaga, F., 184–5, 194–5, 206 Larrinaga, F. L., 165, 167 Latvia, 27 Lebanon, 93 Left Party, 131, 133, 135–9, 141 Leroy, M., 184 Levada centre, 90 liaisons’, 185–6 liberal democracy, 65 liberalism, 5, 183 Liberal Party, 131–2, 143, 144–7 Liberia, 93, 168, 170, 175 Lindgren, E.-M., 142 Lithuania, 27, 114, 117, 118 Lord, W., 21 Lum, T., 170 Luttwak, E., N., 16 Lyon, R., 55


Macan-Markar, M., 171 Macapagal-Arroyo, G., 169 Macedonia, 28, 71 Mahapatra, R., 173 Major Non-NATO Ally (MNNA), 5, 6, 9–10, 163 Argentina’s role with, 6, 163, 166, 167–9 Australia’s role with, 166 Austria’s role with, 66 Finland’s role with, 66 Foreign Assistance Act (1989) formation of, 163 military capabilities of, 10 Pakistan’s role with, 6 partnerships with, 163, 165–75, 194 Philippine’s role with, 6 purpose of, 165–6 Sweden’s role with, 66 Switzerland’s role with, 66 Thailand’s role with, 6 United State’s role with, 163 Malay Peninsula, 47 Malaysia, 47 Malta, 113, 114, 121–2 Maltese, 114 Maltese Constitutional provisions on neutrality, 121 Malvinas/Falkland Islands, 202 MAP, see Membership Action Plan (MAP) Mariño, H. S., 185, 186–7 Markovic, N., 51 Matlary, J. H., 1–16, 60–81 Maximov, V., 99–100 McCrum, S., 114 McDermott, R., 60, 72, 80 MD, see Mediterranean Dialogue (MD) Mearsheimer, J., 20 Medcalf, R., 54 Mediterranean Dialogue (MD), 4, 165

Index

Membership Action Plan (MAP) B&H’s role with, 75, 76 creation of, 62 criteria for membership into, 65, 67 Georgia’s role with, 27–8, 64, 72, 74, 85–6 Montenegro’s role with, 71 NATO’s role with, 27–8 Ukraine’s exclusion from membership to, 74, 85–6 Menem, C., 183–4, 187, 191, 195 MERCOSUR, 194, 195 Middle East, 30, 43 Mirage III aircraft, 47 Missile Technology Control Regime, 192 MNNA, see Major Non-NATO Ally (MNNA) MNTF-S, see Multinational Task Force South (MNTF-S) Moderate Party, 131–2, 142, 143–8 Moldova, 5, 60, 66, 93 Montenegro in Balkans, 5, 60 Moore, R., 63, 80 Moore, R. R., 63, 165, 174, 177 Moran, M., 121 Morocco, 5, 30, 166 Moscow, 18, 27 Mostar airport, 76 Mozambique, 194 MSU, see Multinational Specialized Unit (MSU) Multinational Interoperability Council, 49 Multinational Specialized Unit (MSU), 185 Multinational Task Force South (MNTF-S), 115 Munich, 112 Munitions Safety Information Analysis Centre, 48 Myrli, S., 40, 51


217

NAC, 74 NACC, see North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) Nagorna-Karabakh, 77 Namibia, 48 National Representation, 147 NATO, see North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) NATO allies, 43, 46–9 NATO Charter, 188 NATO Council, 47, 187 NATO enlargement, 27–8, 29–30, 70 NATO-EU Capabilities Group, 150 NATO-Georgia Commission, 3, 72, 74 NATO-led peacekeeping force in Kosovo, see KFOR (NATO-led peacekeeping force in Kosovo) NATO partnerships concept of, 3 ‘consumer-driven’ approach to, 45 debates over, 43–5 in Eastern European region, 3–4 in Euro-Atlantic region, 3 external value of, 7, 8 geopolitical influence of, 9 in Greater Middle East, 4 internal value of, 7, 8 to MAP, 27–8 military operations with, 2–3, 8, 28–30, 69 to NATO enlargement, 27–8 phases of, 24–5 policy for, 61–4 political advantages of, 69 strategic restraint and, 25–7 structure of, 1–2 in Western Pacific, 4 see also specific partnerships NATO Rapid Reaction Forces, 87 NATO-Russia Council, 3–4 NATO-Ukraine Charter on a Distinctive Partnership (DP), 3 NDP, see New Democratic Party (NDP) neighborhood policy (ENP), 66

218

Index

Netherlands, 55 Newby, A., 114 New Democratic Party (NDP), 133 ‘new Europe,’ 29 New People’s Army (NPA), 169 New Zealand Alliance’s partnership with, 43 Australia’s partnership with, 47 global partnerships with, 44 MNNA’s role with, 166 NATO’s partnership with, 5, 45 operational reach following September 11th, 2001, 43 summit meetings, attendance to, 45 United State’s partnership with, 30, 46, 52 UNPROFOR, attendance to, 48 Niksch, L. A., 170 Noetzel, T., 43, 53 non-alignment policies, 138 Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), 192 North Africa, 30 North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC), 3, 28, 118 North Atlantic Council, 50, 117 North Atlantic Treaty, 46, 49 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) Afghanistan, operations in, 45 Alliance’s partnership with, 148, 149 Argentina’s partnership with, 2 Australia’s partnership with, 6, 10 Austria’s partnership with, 70, 120–1 B&H’s partnership with, 76–7 core mission of, 30 ‘customer approach’ of, 123 decision-making process of, 1 European rim’s partnership with, 75–8; effects of, 64–7; policy vs. strategy in, 61–4; role with, 67–70; stipulations for, 60 European Union’s conditionality with, 66


Finland’s partnership with, 119 France’s partnership with, 70 Georgia’s partnership with, 73 global partnerships with, 44 headquarters of, 61 Kazakhstan’s partnership with, 5 longevity of, 1 Malta’s partnership with, 113, 121–2 military industry in, membership of, 101–2 MNNA’s role with, 165–75, 167–9 New Zealand’s partnership with, 44 official language of, 43–4 operational reach following September 11th, 2001, 43 PfP’s role with, 117 Prague, operation in, 44 rationality of, 123 strategic concept of, 3, 148–52 summit meetings held by, 43–5, 50 Sweden’s partnership with, 118, 131–7, 141–9, 152–7 Turkey’s partnership with, 70 Ukraine’s partnership with, 74, 85–9, 90, 92 United State’s partnership with, 24–30 Yugoslavia’s role, 183, 185 Norway, 134, 144 NPA, see New People’s Army (NPA) NPT, see Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) nS-Cabinet, 144–7 Nuclear Supplier Countries, 192 Oakes, G., 122–3 OAS, see Organization of American States (OAS) Obama, B., 32, 165, 169, 174 ‘Old Europe,’ 29 Olympics in Greece, 29 Opall-Rome, B., 21 Operation Cobra Gold, 172 Operation Cooperative Light, 26

Index

Operation Desert Shield, 192 Operation Enduring Freedom, 174 Operation Iraqi Freedom, 168 Orange Revolution, 74, 86 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, 89 Organization of American States (OAS), 201 Oruzgan province in Afghanistan, 40, 50 OSCE, 62–3, 65 Østerud, Ø., 63 Our Ukraine, 90 Pakistan, 33, 173–5 al Qaeda, strategic challenges with, 174 COIN operations in, 34 international peacekeeping, role in, 174–5 MNNA’s partnership with, 6, 163, 166, 167, 173–5 NATO’s partnership with, 2 Taliban, strategic challenges with, 174 United State’s partnership with, 173–4 Pape, R. A., 31 Paraguay, 168 PARP, see Planning and Review Process (PARP) Partnership for Peace (PfP), 3, 23 Alliance’s role with, 165 Armenia’s role with, 72 Australia’s role with, 40 Austria’s role with, 120 Azerbadijan’s role with, 72, 77 B&H’s role with, 75 Czech Republic’s role with, 114 Estonia’s role with, 117 EU neutral’s role with, 112, 114, 115, 117, 118 Finland’s role with, 112, 114, 115, 117, 119–20 Georgia’s role with, 72 ‘hard’ objectives of, 114


219

interoperability in, development of, 124–5 Ireland’s role with, 112, 115, 117, 121 Lithuania’s role with, 114, 117 Malta’s role with, 121–2 members following September 11th, 2001, 117 NATO’s role with, 117 North Atlantic Council, founded by, 117 objectives of, 113 operation Cooperative Light, role in, 26 PARP’s role with, 115 partnerships with, 114 principle for membership to, 117 programs, types of, 147 purpose of, 25 Russia’s role with, 26–7 ‘soft’ objectives of, 114 strategic restraint, adoption of, 25–6 Sweden’s role with, 118, 135 Ukraine’s role with, 85, 86 Partnership Staff Elements (PSE), 147 Partner Staff Elements, 137 Party of Regions, 87–8, 89, 90, 96 Paulson, H., 31 Pavlenko, A., 98 Permanent Security Committee, 198 Peru, 193 Peru-Ecuador conflict, 194 Pew Research, 32 PfP, see Partnership for Peace (PfP) PfP internship, 147 Philippines, Republic of, 169–71 COIN operations in, 34 Filipino diplomacy in, 170 FPDA role in, 53 global peacekeeping in, role of, 170–1 MNNA’s role with, 6, 163, 166, 169–41

220

Index

Philippines, Republic of – continued Philippine Armed Forces, 170 United States’ partnership with, 169–70 Phillips, P. G., 48 Planning and Review Process (PARP), 115 Polak, N. M., 165 Poland, 27, 28, 71 Exercise Cooperative Venture 94, attendance to, 118 NATO’s enlargement in, 27 NATO’s partnership with, 71 PfP’s role within, 114 socialization in, 63 Ukraine’s relationship with, 94–5 policy of defense ‘self-reliance,’ 41–2 Powell, C., 167, 173 Prague, 44 Prague Summit (2002), 3 Pravda, U., 87, 90 Prince Charles, 195 pro-NATO camp, 87 Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT), 68, 116 PRT, see Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) Public Diplomacy Division, 149 Public Policy Division, 72 QDR, see Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR) Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR), 33–4 Rada, 89 Rådberg, P., 136, 138–41 Rajah Solaiman Movement (RSM), 169 Rapid Reaction Forces, 87 realism, 5, 62, 63 red-green coalition, 135–41, 153–5 Regional Command South, 40 reluctancy, 114–5 Republic of Korea, 45 Riga, 44


Riga Summit (2006), 4 Rio Group, 201 Romania, 27 Roth, S., 21 RSM, see Rajah Solaiman Movement (RSM) Rubin, J. P., 36 Rudd, K., 50–1 Rumania, 71 Rumsfeld, D., 29 Russia Armenia’s partnership with, 60 Exercise Cooperative Venture 94, attendance to, 118 Georgia, invasion of, 24, 28, 31, 64, 70, 74, 100 Kazakhstan’s partnership with, 60 PfP’s role within, 26–7 Ukraine’s partnership with, 75, 86, 95–6 United Russia party of, 90 United State’s partnership with, 23–4 Russia-Georgia war, 24, 28, 31, 64, 70, 74, 100 Rwanda, 48, 194, 199 SAC, see Strategic Airlift Capability (SAC) SACEUR, see Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR) Sakovskyi, G. A., 91 Sakovskyi, H., 91 Salonius-Pasternak, C., 125 Samus, M. M., 100 Sanger, D. E., 171 Sarney, J., 195 SCEPC, see Senior Civil Emergency Planning Committee (SCEPC) Schake, K., 32 Schmitt, E., 174 Schreer, B., 10–11, 15–16, 40–56, 123, 126–7 Schüssel, W., 120 Schweller, R., 20 Sea Sparrow Consortium, 47

Index

SEATO, see Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) security policy dialogue, 145–6 Sedelmeier, U., 64–5 Sedov, L., 90 Senior Civil Emergency Planning Committee (SCEPC), 147 Sens, A., 26 Serbia, 5, 60, 70, 71 Serbs, 76 Sevastopol naval base, 75 SFOR, see Stabilization Force in Bosnia-Herzegovina (SFOR) Shakasvilii, 74 Shanahan, D., 51 Shane, S., 174 Shanghai Cooperation Organization, 24 Shanker, T., 28 SHAPE, see Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) Shekhovtsov, V., 103 Sherr, J., 97 Shinawatra, T., 171–2 Sicily, 122 Silina, T., 87 Simmons, R., 71 Singapore, 45, 47 Singer, J. D., 16 Skagerrak, 118 Slovakia, 27, 71 Slovenia, 27, 71, 119 Smith, M. A., 3–4 Smith, S., 50 Social Democrats (S), 132, 133, 135–40 socialization, 63–4 SOFA, see Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) Solana, J., 74 Solomon, G. B., 62, 71 Solomon Islands, 52 Somalia, 48 South American Defense Council (CSD), 201–3 South Caucasus, 71–2, 77, 78


221

South-East Asia, 52 Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO), 1, 46 Southern Command, 200 Southern Cone, 187, 194, 197 South Korea, 5, 43, 44, 166, 194 South Ossietia, 74 Spero, J. B., 94 Stabilization Force in Bosnia-Herzegovina (SFOR), 185 STANAGS, see Standardization Agreements (STANAGS) Standardization Agreements (STANAGS), 47 START, 151 State Program, 93 Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA), 76 Stiglitz, J., 32 Stockholm, 118 Strategic Airlift Capability (SAC), 116, 143 strategic restraint, 25–6, 25–7 strategic thinking, 61 strategic vision, 61 Sudan, 93, 172, 173, 175 summit meetings, 44–5 Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR), 29 Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE), 185, 187 Sweden, 114, 131–59 Afghanistan’s partnership with, 118 Alliance’s partnership with, 119 CCMS, attendance to, 119 Denmark’s partnership with, 144 EAPC’s role within, 135, 139 European Union’s partnership with, 134 Exercise Cooperative Venture 94, attendance to, 118 following fall of Berlin Wall, 131, 132 ISAF’s role within, 142 KFOR’s role within, 115, 116

222

Index

Sweden – continued Left Party’s role within, 136 MNNA’s role within, 66 NATO’s partnership with, 115, 118, 131, 157–9; centre-right coalition’s role in, 141–8, 155–7; following September 11th, 2001, 131; IPP’s role within, 134; methodological aspects of, 133, 134; red-green coalition’s role within, 135–41, 153–5; strategic choices for, 148–9; strategic concepts of, 149–52; Swedish policies for, 153–7 Norway’s partnership with, 144 PARP’s partnership with, 115, 143 PfP’s role within, 112, 114, 115, 117, 118, 135 PRT’s role within, 116 reluctancy in, 114 SAC’s role within, 116 Swedish, 114 Swedish Armed Forces, 118, 135 Swedish parliaments, 131, 132–5, see also specific divisions of parliament Syrén, H., 119 Tagliabue, J., 168 Taiwan, 31 Tajikistan, 71 Taliban, 170 Tanker War (1988), 48 Tashkent Pact, 87 Tashkent Treaty, 89 Tbiblisi, 72, 74 Technical Cooperation Program (TTCP), 47 terrorist bombings in Bali, 171 Thailand, 171–3 Afghanistan’s partnership with, 172 anti-terrorism measures in, 172 FPDA’s role in, 53


international peacekeeping, role in, 172–3 MNNA’s role within, 6, 163, 166, 171–3 United States’ partnership with, 171, 172 Thaksin, 172 Thayer, C., 52 therapeutic membership policy, 62 Timoshenko, Y., 87 Titley, G., 114 Tlatelolco Treaty, 198 Tonga, 52 transparency, 137, 143 Treaty of Tlatelolco, 192 Tsitsiurskii, M., 74, 95, 99 Tsymbaliuk, R., 93 Tsytsiurskii, M., 95, 99 TTCP, see Technical Cooperation Program (TTCP) Tunbridge, J. E., 122 Turkey, 22–3, 70, 118 Turkmenistan, 71 Tuzla airport, 76 Ukraine, 83–108 collective action in, 92–5 Communist rule in, 94 Eastern Partner’s Initiative launched by, 66 enlargement in, 62 European rim partnerships in, 60 Georgia’s partnership in, 93 independence of, 83 MAP’s exclusion of, 74, 85–6 military industry in, 98, 100–5 national level for, 95 NATO’s partnership with, 3, 10, 27–8, 74, 85–9; action plan for, 85; with defense industry, 10; establishment of, 85; membership policy for, 86–7; with military, 10; national level for, 90; policies for, 92; political views on, 87 neutrality in, 87

Index

parliament adopted in, 85, 89 Party of Region’s role in, 90, 96 PfP’s role within, 85, 86 Poland’s partnership with, 94–5 president of, 102 as rationalists, 95–105 Russia’s partnership with, 75, 86, 95–6 sectoral actors in, 91 self-identity of, establishment of, 89–92 State Program’s development in, 93 Turkey’s partnership with, 22 Ukrainian military in, 97–102 United State’s partnership with, 23 Ukraine in Caucausus, 60 Ukraine-NATO Commission, 71 Ukraine-NATO Joint Working Group, 103 Ukrainian military, 97–102 Ukrainian Navy, 100 UNASUR, see Union of South American Nations (UNASUR) Union of South American Nations (UNASUR), 201 United Kingdom, 43, 46–7, 49 UK Ministry of Defence, 48 United Nations Mission, 172–3 UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR), 48 UN Security Council, 186, 199 United Russia party, 90 United States Afghanistan, military role in, 28, 29, 32, 35 Argentina’s partnership with, 13, 167, 168, 191–203 Australia’s partnership with, 30, 40, 46, 47, 48, 53, 54 China’s partnership with, 20–2, 24, 31, 54 COIN’s partnership with, 34–5 deficit of, 32 economic decline in, 31–3 Georgia’s partnership with, 23


223

global affairs, role in, 33 NATO’s partnership with, 24–35, 43 New Zealand’s partnership with, 30 Persian Gulf, military deployments to, 48 Philippine’s partnership with, 169, 170 QDR’s partnership with, 34 quadrilateral dialogues of, 54 Russia’s partnership with, 23–4 SEATO, founder of, 46–7 Turkey’s partnership with, 22–3 Ukraine’s partnership with, 23 US. Department of Defense, 33 US. Department of State, 22 US. grand strategy, 18–24 US. Security Treaty (ANZUS), 1, 46, 47, 49, 53, 54 US. State Department Country Report on terrorism, 168 US-Georgia Strategic Partnership Commission, 23 US partnerships, see specific partnerships UNPROFOR, see UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) UN Truce Supervision Organization in Jerusalem, 168 UXO, 76 Uzbekistan, 71 Vaahtoranta, T., 119 value rational action, 123 value rationality, 122–5 Van Evera, S., 19 Vassallo, R., 122 Vecherko, D., 96 Vedernikova, I., 89 Venezuela, 200, 202 Vietnam War, 46, 171 Visegrád states, 62 Wæver, O., 63, 197–8 Wahlén, G., 136

224

Index

Walesa, L., 26 Walt, S., 20 Warsaw Pact, 14, 19 Washington Consensus, 189 Washington NATO Project (WNP), 149–50 Washington Treaty, 46 Wassenaar Accord, 192 weapons of mass destruction, 55 Weber, M., 113, 122–3, 126 Wendt, A., 83 Westernization, 98 Western Pacific, 4 Western Sahara, 168, 175 White, H., 42, 51 Widman, A., 142 Wirtz, J., 61


WNP, see Washington NATO Project (WNP) Woodhead, P., 184 World Bank, 190 World Wars, 46 Woronowycz, R., 92–3 Yanukovych, V., 89 Yaphe, J., 23 Yekhanurov, Y., 89 Yeltsin, B., 27 Yemen, 33 Young, T.-D., 47 Yugoslavia, 48, 75, 183, 185, 194 Zemin, J., 21 Zhurets, S. G., 103–4

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