Euro-Mediterranean Relations After September 11: International, Regional and Domestic Dynamics

Euro-Mediterranean Relations After September 11 Of Related Interest JEWS, CHRISTIANS AND MUSLIMS IN THE MEDITERRANEAN...

Author: Annette Junemann

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Euro-Mediterranean Relations After September 11

Of Related Interest JEWS, CHRISTIANS AND MUSLIMS IN THE MEDITERRANEAN WORLD AFTER 1492 edited by Alisha Meyuhas Ginio NORTH AFRICA, ISLAM AND THE MEDITERRANEAN WORLD From the Almoravids to the Algerian War edited by Julia Clancy-Smith GREEN CRESCENT OVER NAZARETH by Raphael Israeli DEMOCRACY AND PLURALISM IN THE MUSLIM REGIONS OF THE FORMER SOVIET UNION edited by Yaacov Ro’i THE EUROPEAN UNION AND DEMOCRACY PROMOTION The Case of North Africa edited by Richard Gillespie and Richard Youngs

Euro-Mediterranean Relations After September 11 International, Regional and Domestic Dynamics

Editor

ANNETTE JÜNEMANN

FRANK CASS LONDON • PORTLAND, OR

First published in 2004 in Great Britain by FRANK CASS AND COMPANY LIMITED Crown House, 47 Chase Side, Southgate, London N14 5BP, England and in the United States of America by FRANK CASS c/o International Specialized Book Services, Inc. 920 NE 58th Avenue, Suite 300, Portland, OR 97213–3786 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Copyright © 2004 Frank Cass & Co. Ltd British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data World Congress for Middle Eastern Studies on The Mediterranean in the New Evolving International Order— Domestic, Regional and International Interests (1st: 2002: University of Mainz) Euro-Mediterranean relations after September 11: international, regional and domestic dynamics 1. Euro-Mediterranean Partnership—Congresses 2. European Union—Congresses 3. National security—Mediterranean Region—Congresses 4. Human rights—Mediterranean Region— Congresses 5. Mediterranean Region—Politics and government —21st century—Congresses 6. European Union countries— Foreign relations—Mediterranean Region—Congresses 7. Mediterranean Region—Foreign relations—European Union countries—Congresses 8. Middle East—Foreign relations— European Union countries—Congresses 9. European Union countries—Foreign relations—Middle East—Congresses I. Title II. Jünemann, Annette III. Mediterranean politics 320.9’1822 ISBN 0-203-49872-0 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-58231-4 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0 7146 5512 0 (cloth) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Euro-Mediterranean relations after September 11: international, regional, and domestic dynamics/editor, Annette Jünemann. p. cm. ‘This group of studies first appeared in a special issue of

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Mediterranean politics (ISSN 1362-9395), Vol. 8, Nos. 2–3 (Summer-Autumn 2003) [Euro-Mediterranean relations after September 11: international, regional and domestic dynamics]’—T.p. verso. ISBN 0-7146-5512-0 (Print Edition)—ISBN 0-7146-8475-9 (Print Edition) 1. Europe-Foreign relations—Mediterranean Region. 2. Mediterranean Region—Foreign relations—Europe. 3. European Union countries-Foreign relations—Mediterranean Region. 4. Mediterranean Region—Foreign relations—European Union countries. 5. September 11 Terrorist Attacks, 2001. I. Jünemann, Annette, 1959–II. Title. JZ1570.E918 2003 327.40182’2–dc22 2003016392 This group of studies first appeared in a Special Issue of Mediterranean Politics (ISSN 1362-9395), Vol.8, Nos.2–3 (Summer—Autumn 2003) [Euro-Mediterranean Relations After September 11: International, Regional and Domestic Dynamics]. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of Frank Cass and Company Limited.

Contents

Acknowledgements Security-Building in the Mediterranean After September 11 Annette Jünemann

viii 1

Reshaping the Agenda? The Internal Politics of the Barcelona Process in the Aftermath of September 11 Richard Gillespie

20

Repercussions of the Emerging European Security and Defence Policy on the Civil Character of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership Annette Jünemann

36

Gender and Security in the Mediterranean Cilja Harders

53

The EMP and Morocco: Diverging Political Agendas? Said Haddadi

74

A Two-Level Game: Spain and the Promotion of Democracy and Human Rights in Morocco Laura Feliu

91

The External Dimension of Sub-national Governments: Dealing with Human Rights at the Barcelona and Valencia Euromed Civil Fora Eduard Soler i Lecha

114

Loss of Guiding Values and Support: September 11 and the Isolation of Human Rights Organizations in Egypt Angela Grünert

137

Democratization without Democracy? The Assistance of the European Union for Democratization Processes in Palestine Stephan Stetter

157

The EU and the Middle East Conflict: Tackling the Main Obstacle to Euro-Mediterranean Partnership Muriel Asseburg

178

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Arab Regional Integration as a Prerequisite for a Successful EuroMediterranean Partnership Béchir Chourou

198

Israeli Policy Perspectives on the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership in the Context of EU Enlargement Alfred Tovias

218

Abstracts

237

Notes on Contributors

243

Index

244

Acknowledgements

This collection emerged from an international conference on ‘The Mediterranean in the New Evolving International Order: Domestic, Regional and International Interests’, which was held on the occasion of the ‘First World Congress For Middle Eastern Studies’ (WOCMES), 11–13 September 2002 at the University of Mainz. Not all contributions to the conference feature in this collection because the approach of the conference was far too broad to be summarized in a single book. The focus we selected for this collection is on two interrelated aspects, security-building and democratization in the Mediterranean after September 11. International, regional and domestic dynamics are discussed in this context. The project is indebted to many people. First of all, I want to thank Richard Gillespie who was not only co-chair of the conference, but also a permanent source of inspiration, knowledge and experience throughout the whole project, including the time-consuming phase of editing. Furthermore, I want to thank all my co-authors for their contributions and for their patience in revising papers in light of our vivid discussions in Mainz. These discussions benefited hugely from the input of all the participants. Since the conference was organized in co-operation with the Arbeitskreis Europäische Integration/ECSA-Germany (AEI) and the Friedrich Ebert Foundation (FES), I owe many thanks to Andrä Gärber, Hermann Bünz and Edith Tapsoba of the FES and Michèle Knodt, Meike Leube and Matthias Heddenhausen of the AEI for their fruitful and uncomplicated co-operation. Further thanks go to Jörn Thielmann of the WOCMES secretariat and to Helke Dreier who helped with the editing. Last but not least, I wish to thank the sponsors of the conference, the European Commission, the FES and the Centre for Research on the Arab World for their generous support. Without all this assistance and support the project would never have materialized. Annette Jünemann Summer 2003

1 Security-Building in the Mediterranean After September 11 ANNETTE JÜNEMANN

This collection sets out to analyse the development of politics in the Mediterranean against the background of a paradigmatically changing international environment. The terror attacks of 11 September 2001, the most decisive event determining international relations in recent times, have shifted the coordinates of the complex system of Euro-Mediterranean relations; they have shaken up intra-regional relations and have influenced the evolution of domestic politics within the region. Most of these developments are to the disadvantage of political and socio-economic processes that had started to prosper in the aftermath of the cold war. Only two years ago Fulvio Attinà and Stelios Stavridis published a book on Euro-Mediterranean relations that offered a refreshingly optimistic outlook on the future prospects of security-building in the region [Attinà and Stavridis, 2001]. The book was based on the assumption that war was losing its importance as an instrument to settle conflicts, thus giving room to more innovative forms of multilateral security co-operation. Unfortunately, new realities force us to reject this assumption. Instead of global pacification, the reappearance of the military has to be faced, manifesting itself in the militarized fight against international terrorism, the targeting of Iraq and a new discussion on ‘preventive wars’. From an ex post facto perspective, the 1990s appear to have been a window of opportunity for the civilianization of international relations that closed in the aftermath of September 11 without having been used sufficiently. Opportunities were lost, especially with regard to the Mediterranean. However, since Mediterranean politics have always been determined by the relations between international, regional and domestic dynamics, other factors have to be taken into consideration too. Regional developments such as the outbreak of the Al-Aqsa Intifada and the change of political elites in some of the Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs), but also the evolution of a unilateral European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) and the process of EU enlargement, have a decisive impact on the evolution of politics in the Mediterranean too. In other words, September 11 has not ‘changed everything’. This notion, which has become a commonplace since that date, is not only a simplification but even a mistake: September 11 has

2 EURO-MEDITERRANEAN RELATIONS AFTER SEPTEMBER 11

triggered a lot of developments, but it has also enhanced processes that were already under way and therefore need other explanations. To start with, it is necessary to explain the great impact of September 11 and its aftermath on the theoretical discourse on security. During the cold war, the scientific community of security studies had been a rather exclusive club of experts on military affairs, concentrating on global threats rather than dealing with security issues possessing a regional or domestic range. Only when the East-West conflict came to an end did this community open up to other sectors within the social sciences, including among others regionalists, conflict and peace researchers and feminists. They all reacted to a new generation of risks that had emerged, not least as a result of the intensification of the globalization process. The more the states had to cope with the effects of social, economic or environmental processes transcending national borders, the more they were forced to develop innovative and transnational approaches based on co-operation. As a result, security was discussed for almost a decade in an ever-widening context. New theoretical approaches challenged the traditional dominance of neo-realism, thereby establishing a much more comprehensive understanding of security and security-building. The EU adopted this new kind of thinking and new approaches to foreign and security policy-making, especially with regard to its ‘near abroad’. Stabilization through co-operation was the new formula, combined with a forceful attempt to export the west European security model based on democracy and the market economy. The EU enlargement process has to be mentioned as the most successful implementation of this policy approach, but also the stability pact in the Balkans and—with particular interest in the context of this collection—the EuroMediterranean Partnership (EMP). September 11 seems to have turned the wheel back, at least to a certain extent. Although the importance of ‘soft’ security issues is not rejected altogether, priorities have clearly been shifted back to ‘hard’ security issues. The urgent need to cope with the new threats of international terrorism resulted in an upgrading of short-term counter-strategies, relying on the military, the police and the secret services. Compared to them, ‘soft’ strategies addressing the roots of terrorism appear to be too uncertain, too lengthy and therefore too risky to be placed at the top of the agenda. Against this background it is not surprising that issues which only a few years ago had been discovered to be important in the context of securitybuilding, such as the promotion of democracy and economic development, are now rated much lower. But not only that. What we observe is, to use the words of Barry Buzan, the securitization of international terrorism. Securitization according to Buzan starts when an issue is presented as such an existential security threat that top priority has to be given to tackling it, allowing even the

SECURITY-BUILDING AFTER SEPTEMBER 11 3

breaking of existing rules. The process of securitization is completed if and when the audience accepts it as such: If one can argue that something overflows the normal political logic of weighing issues against each other, this must be the case because it can upset the entire process of weighing as such: ‘If we do not tackle this problem, everything else will be irrelevant (because we will not be here or will not be free to deal with it in our own way).’ Thereby, the actor has claimed a right to handle the issue through extraordinary means, to break the normal political rules of the game [Buzan et al., 1998:24]. ‘Breaking the normal political rules of the game’ might provide security for the acting country in a short-term perspective. Viewed in a long-term perspective, however, securitizing international terrorism can become a threat to the world’s security itself. The main reason why the world had become more secure in the aftermath of the cold war was the success of international regimes and the reinforcement of international law. However, since all attempts to civilianize the international system through the establishment of overriding rules challenge the notion of national sovereignty [Dembinski, 2002], there are strong forces working against them. The first time this new trend was successfully disturbed was when the newly established Bush administration repudiated international regimes such as the Kyoto protocol and started its campaign against the setting up of the International Criminal Court—steps that were tacitly approved of by many governments that did not dare to oppose the court themselves. Securitizing international terrorism has to be seen in this context because it is another step in the downgrading of internationally-binding rules, leaving a vacuum to be filled by mere power politics. However, differentiation is necessary. Securitizing international terrorism is a process that can be clearly observed among policy-makers and, as a tendency, also within the academic community of security studies. In the US it is more strongly developed than in Europe, partly because of the US having been the target of the terror attacks, partly due to the status of the US as the only remaining superpower and partly due to different political cultures. This collection concentrates on the EU, where the tendency to securitize international terrorism is counterbalanced to a certain extent by a civilian tradition of foreign policy-making. Another kind of differentiation concerns the effects of securitizing international terrorism, which are not the same everywhere. It is obvious that central and eastern Europe and the Balkans are less affected by changes in European security policies than the MPCs, because the roots of international terrorism are traced back to the realm of radical Islamism, regionally assigned to the Arab world and Muslim countries in the Far and Middle East and Asia.


This collection will not discuss the process of securitizing international terrorism as such, nor all its effects world-wide. Neither the question of war as a means of fighting terrorism nor violations of international law (which have already taken place) are focused on here, although they are key issues in the context of securitizing international terrorism. Our approach is much more modest, concentrating on the geographically limited area of Europe and the southern Mediterranean. We want to find out what impact the process of securitizing international terrorism has on: • Euro-Mediterranean relations with special regard to the EMP; • Regional developments with special regard to the Middle East conflict; and • Domestic developments with special regard to processes of democratization. Thus, the collection is a contribution to the specialized field of Mediterranean studies with a particular focus on Euro-Mediterranean relations. At first sight, this approach might seem to be rather narrow when viewed against the background of the global effects that September 11 has triggered, challenging no less than the world order. However, we believe that it is not sufficient to deal with the issue on the macro level alone. The time seems right to add detailed research on the regional and domestic level, not least to overcome the simplifications dominating the current discourse. The EMP is a suitable object for such a comprehensive approach. Originally, the EMP was a European initiative, inspired by the Helsinki Process which had helped to overcome the East-West conflict. The window of opportunity to launch the project opened when the global bloc rivalry came to an end, when the Oslo agreements seemingly paved the way for an irreversible Middle East peace process (MEPP) and when subtle processes of democratization seemed to be taking root in some of the Maghreb countries. Thus, the evolution of the EMP was right from its beginning determined by international, regional and domestic developments alike, although most of them turned out to be less sustainable than had been hoped [Jünemann, 1999]. Since 1995, when the EMP was inaugurated in Barcelona, EuroMediterranean relations have been organized exclusively in this institutional framework. The EU and its 15 member states, together with 12 MPCs, committed themselves through the Barcelona Declaration to the task of transforming the Mediterranean into a region of ‘peace, stability and prosperity’. To put this ambitious aim into practice, the EMP has followed a concept that combines the setting up of bilateral association agreements between the EU and each MPC with various forms of multilateral co-operation on the political, economic and cultural levels. The EMP’s special value, however, emanates from its normative dimension,


based on the values of democracy and human rights. It is this normative dimension that matters in the context of this collection, first of all because the struggle for democratization is—in the long term—one of the most important prerequisites for the development of political and economic stability, and secondly because the (weak) initiatives towards democratization in the region seem to be highly endangered by the securitization of international terrorism. This is the hypothesis explored in this collection. The nexus between democratization and security has been conflict-ridden ever since the EMP was set up, due to the diverging interests in the game. For the EU, the project was predominantly an attempt to deal with the new security environment that had emerged after the end of the cold war. During the cold war, West Europeans had feared the strength of their adversaries in the East. When this threat gradually crumbled towards the end of the 1980s, they started to feel increasingly threatened by the weakness of their neighbours in the South. The lack of stability in the entire region of North Africa and the Middle East was perceived as a new challenge that could neither be addressed by single countries alone nor by military means. The innovative approach to cope with the new security environment was the development of a comprehensive partnership, the EMP, based on the new and much broader understanding of security that had emerged in the 1990s. By setting up the EMP, the EU aimed in the long term to establish a Euro-Mediterranean security community. The concept of regional security communities was developed back in the 1950s [Deutsch et al., 1957], but experienced an unexpected revival in the aftermath of the cold war. In many parts of the world, among them Asia, Africa, Latin America and the Arab world, regionalism has been rediscovered as a useful approach to counter processes of globalization that are too challenging to be tackled by single countries alone. However, according to the theoretical concept, regional security communities are based on certain essential preconditions, among others a shared set of values. When the EU initiated the EMP as a framework to tackle the manifold problems faced by countries bordering the Mediterranean, it was well aware of the fact that the partners to this project did not meet this precondition. Despite the declaratory commitments made in the Barcelona Declaration with regard to democracy and human rights, the EMP is in reality characterized by a lack of common values. All MPCs are—albeit to different degrees—authoritarian, with the only exception of Cyprus and Malta (the two EU accession candidates) and —with certain qualifications—Israel. Thus, the EMP can be characterized at best as a security community in the making. This, however, is what the EU had in mind when it transferred the procedural character of the Helsinki Process to the new framework of the EMP, a context that is better expressed by the term ‘Barcelona Process’. According to this concept,


stability and security in the region are to be achieved through the gradual dismantling of the political, socio-economic and environmental causes of instability. One of the main causes of instability that was identified in the majority of the MPCs was the absence of democracy. In other words, the EMP is based on the conviction that democratization and security are two sides of the same coin. In correspondence with the assumptions of the democratic peace hypothesis, a theoretical approach that also emerged in the immediate aftermath of the cold war, the EU came to the conclusion that the external promotion of democracy was in its own best interest: Starting from the observation that no two democracies have ever gone to war with each other, a number of grounds could be advanced for expecting the proliferation of democracy to lead to a more generally harmonious international system. In balancing contending views, political pluralism tended towards moderation. Governments held accountable to their own populace would be encouraged to devote resources to social and economic betterment rather than external aggression. Transparent systems of governance would make the evolution of policies more predictable, while procedural checks and balances and the rule of law would reduce the scope for arbitrary acts, undertaken with an autocrat’s personal prestige in mind [Gillespie and Youngs, 2002:8–9]. Thus, Europeans push the MPCs to not only commit themselves to democratic values on the declaratory level, but to put them also into practice. In exchange, the EU offers support in the fight against underdevelopment and poverty, the other—no less important—cause of instability. To fill this concept with life, conditionality clauses were inserted into the Euro-Med association agreements and the MEDA regulation, linking economic and financial co-operation with the MPCs to institutional reform, the rule of law, good governance and respect for human rights. Complementing this top-down approach of democracy promotion, the EU also pursued a bottom-up approach by launching various cooperation programmes at the level of civil society. Democratic forces in the South have taken up these initiatives with great enthusiasm [Jünemann, 2002]. However, high expectations were soon disappointed by the EU’s unexpected reluctance and caution when putting these programmes into practice. Human rights NGOs observed with disappointment that EU policies to promote democracy and human rights proved to be rather inconsistent. Not even the conditionality clauses, the EU’s strongest weapon in the struggle for democratization, have been coherently implemented.


To understand this inconsistency, one has to bear in mind that for the Europeans democratization is less a goal in itself than a means of attaining prioritized security goals. The promotion of democracy in third countries combines ethical and pragmatic concerns, but one must not forget that the latter is decisive. This becomes obvious as soon as the goal of democratization comes into conflict with security interests, something very likely to happen in the unsteady process of transformation. In most of the MPCs it is expected that a rapid process of democratization will most probably lead to an extremely unstable period of transition, carrying the risk of violent upheavals or even civil war. Furthermore, democratization can bring Islamist parties to power, as almost happened in Algeria in 1992 [Jünemann, 2000]. Since the EU’s main interest is stabilization, it wants neither revolutionary developments nor the coming to power of antiWestern Islamist parties in the MPCs. Thus, the EU promotes democratization processes only to a limited degree and wants them to remain under the control of the existing governments. European demands for democratization are therefore restricted to rather low standards of ‘market-compatible’ democracies. To sum up, one can say that the nexus between democratization and security has always been one that favours the prior goal of security, whereas the promotion of democracy is a means (to promote security) rather than a goal in itself. This ‘democratization-stabilization dilemma’ is nothing new, but rather a structural deficit of the EMP that has been in the focus of academic research for many years [Jünemann, 1998; Gillespie and Youngs, 2002; Panebianco, 2003]. However, since the terror attacks of September 11, the nexus between democratization and security has undergone further changes. First of all, due to the tendency to redefine security in traditional terms, upgrading ‘hard’ security issues at the expense of ‘soft’ security issues, but also due to the securitization of international terrorism. Since most MPCs are perceived as indispensable partners in the alliance against international terrorism—no matter if they are democratic or not—security in the Mediterranean is gradually becoming detached from its democratic prerequisites. For the authoritarian regimes among the MPCs it is very tempting to misuse the logic of securitizing international terrorism to legitimize the postponement of political reform and the violation of human rights. Thus, it becomes more and more contradictory to build an anti-terror alliance with authoritarian regimes and, at the same time, to ask them to respect the values of democracy and human rights in the framework of the EMP. It is this contradiction that has overshadowed Euro-Mediterranean relations since September 11.


The Structure of the Collection The various contributions to this collection take a deeper look at the developments outlined above, analysing the international, regional and domestic dynamics in Euro-Mediterranean relations following September 11. Divergent theoretical approaches are introduced that shed new light on seemingly known facts; as does the confrontation of northern and southern perspectives and the combination of views from different scientific disciplines. We have refrained from subdividing the collection into sections because all the contributions are highly interrelated. Their arrangement follows a concept that puts those contributions together that overlap in content, thereby connecting theoretical and empirical research on specific aspects of our common issue. Taken together, the contributions update the state of the art regarding the study of Euro-Mediterranean relations. At the same time, they offer a starting point for further research, since—as always —more questions are raised than answers given. Due to the importance that we attach to the EMP as the exclusive institutional framework of Euro-Mediterranean relations, the collection starts with a detailed analysis by Richard Gillespie of recent developments within the EMP. Gillespie devotes special attention to the EMP’s third basket, the partnership in social, cultural and human affairs, which has attracted unexpected interest in the aftermath of September 11. Unexpected, because the third basket has always been perceived as something less important: an ‘appendix’ added to the pivotal baskets for political and security co-operation (Basket I) and economic and financial co-operation (Basket II). Since the EMP was initiated by the EU to deal with a new security environment, Europeans tend to prioritize the first basket. In contrast, most MPCs perceive the second basket to be decisive, and accept the other two only because they had no choice but to take the whole package. The main reason why the third basket was neglected by both sides has to do with the democratization-stabilization dilemma mentioned before: the EU’s contested bottom-up approach to democratization is organized within the framework of the third basket. Authoritarian regimes in the South naturally dislike all programmes sponsoring civil society and therefore either undermine them indirectly or attack them openly. But the EU and its member states have also become increasingly reluctant to push these programmes because of the problems they create at the more important governmental level of co-operation. Against this background it is indeed astonishing that the third basket has just now been rediscovered. According to Gillespie there are several reasons for this change of agenda: the EU’s desire to address issues that have proved difficult to deal with in the context of the first (political/security) basket of the Barcelona Process; the growing importance of the EU’s justice and home affairs agenda;


European responses to the worsening Middle East conflict; and—last but not least— the need to respond to September 11. An upgrading of the long neglected third basket could open new ways to reinvigorate the stalled Barcelona Process. However, it could also generate counter-productive effects because the more attention the third basket gains at the level of high politics, the more it is being transformed into something new. Efforts to reinforce dialogue between civilizations and cultural co-operation, up to now one of the core issues within the third basket, risk being overshadowed by the current preoccupation of governments with security controls, thereby disturbing the development of mutual trust and the process of Euro-Mediterranean rapprochement. A lack of mutual trust is, as everyone knows, the most decisive reason why Euro-Mediterranean relations are so fragile. Against this background, Annette Jünemann analyses the repercussions of the newly evolving and strictly unilateral ESDP on the EMP. Since the setting up of the EMP can be classified as a positive example of the EU’s civilian political culture, the issue is treated in the broader context of the challenges that ESDP provides for the concept of a European ‘civilian power’ [Duchêne, 1972; Hill, 1990; Jünemann and Schörnig, 2002]. In the context of this collection, it is important to note that September 11 had less influence on the development of ESDP than might have been expected. Since there is widespread scepticism in Europe with regard to the usefulness of military means in the fight against terrorism, the main contribution of the EU to this fight is taking place in the framework of justice and home affairs (see Gillespie, this collection). Nevertheless, divergent perceptions, interests and national security cultures within the EU have prevented the development of a coherent strategy that defines ESDP’s concrete aims and objects. Thus, critical questions about whether ESDP will remain within the framework of a civilian security culture, or whether it will open the way to a more ‘realistic’ approach to foreign policy-making, have not yet found a definite answer. This question is of particular importance for the MPCs since their territories are potential destinations for future ESDP missions. The lack of a coherent ESDP strategy leaves room for misgivings concerning the possible intentions of the EU and her member states—a context that anti-European forces could easily exploit. To dissolve the growing distrust among MPCs, most experts rightly plead for more transparency and for the participation of MPCs in a framework that would merge Euro-Mediterranean security policy—and with it the EMP’s first basket—to a certain extent with the larger framework of ESDP [Biscop, forthcoming]. On the one hand, this concept would help to enhance the EMP’s underdeveloped partnership spirit. On the other hand, however, it would challenge the civilian character of the EMP, and with it its normative dimension. It can be expected that intergovernmental co-operation in the field of hard security issues will


gradually marginalize the tackling of politically touchy soft security issues like democratization, although the latter is pivotal for the development of sustainable stability in the region. A similar approach to security-building is used by Cilja Harders, who explores security issues in the Mediterranean from a feminist perspective. As mentioned earlier, feminists have also developed a broad and dynamic understanding of security and insecurity, challenging the comparably narrow concept of neo-realism. The EMP framework with its focus on soft security issues comes very close to the feminist approach, although genderdemocratic relations between men and women are not mentioned explicitly. Harders argues that gender sensitivity, as an additional potential for the establishment of peace and stability in the region, is not sufficiently used and should therefore be added to the EMP’s agenda. Her demand goes beyond the scattered projects for the support of women that have been launched in the context of civil society promotion. Women enjoy special attention within the EMP, like youth, minorities and other weak target groups. However, this has little to do with the promotion of gender-democratic relations, as demanded by Harders and other, especially southern, feminists. Such demands would have farreaching political implications that nobody seems really willing to address. On the contrary, women’s projects are—rightly or wrongly—perceived as politically less challenging. ‘Women’s education’ or ‘family planning’ are typical issues for gender-related projects that can be carried out in any MPC without governmental restraint. One reason for this tolerance is that women’s projects are expected to counter the growing popularity of radical Islamism. This strategy, however, is a double-edged sword because it opens up the discourse on women’s rights and with it the demand for genderdemocratic relations, thus going beyond the limited degree of openness to democratic reform that most southern regimes are prepared to entertain [Daoud, 1993]—especially given their need to keep in line with moderate Islamist forces. Women’s rights NGOs have developed various strategies to adapt to their limited room for manoeuvre, instrumentalizing as much as possible governmental rhetoric on their own behalf. To a certain extent they can rely on EU support, not least because the EU traditionally favours elitist—and western oriented—groups within civil society. This said, we have to bear in mind that gender equality has not been achieved in the EU and its member states either, although results are generally speaking better than they are in most of the MPCs. Harders provides important indicators of ‘Gendered Human Security’ in all the EMP countries, arguing that it is important to address the huge gaps in Gendered Human Security in order to strengthen the civil and security dimension of the EMP. Her contribution finally explores the possible positive effects of women’s participation in the armed forces, for instance through the establishment of alternative models to masculinity.


An in-depth analysis of the domestic developments within one particular country is provided by Said Haddadi, who analyses the process of political reform in Morocco and how it is influenced by the EU’s democratization policy. Compared to the majority of authoritarian Arab MPCs, Morocco has taken remarkable steps towards political reform, although one cannot talk yet about democratization. Nevertheless, Morocco is an interesting case to study the interrelations between internal and external factors determining the process of political reform. Whatever the impact of external democracy promotion might be, it must not be forgotten that it is impossible for the EU or any external actor to insert democracy from outside. What matters is the country itself, its political, military and economic elites, and last but not least civil society. That is why this collection cannot do without a case study that focuses on the internal dynamics of political reform, thereby adopting a different perspective on the EU’s external contribution. A second reason why Morocco is an especially interesting case to study is the fact that in recent years a new king, Mohamed VI, has come to the throne. Thus, Morocco has already undergone a change of political elite, something that the majority of Arab MPCs still await [Perthes, 2002]. While political leaders in democracies come and go, according to the voters’ will, most Arab countries have been ruled for decades by one man, one party or one clan. Against this background, it is understandable that a lot of significance is attached to the change of elites in MPCs; hope for democratic progress on the one hand and apprehension about the country’s stability on the other. According to Haddadi, the arrival of King Mohamed VI to the throne in 1999 proved orderly and appeared to some rather promising. With various gestures Mohamed VI presented himself as a modernizer, allowing a certain degree of political liberalization. However, this process fell short of democratic reform, especially since the outstanding role of the monarchy remained untouched. Furthermore, many of the positive reforms completed by Mohamed VI had been initiated by his father, King Hassan II, and therefore cannot be ascribed to the change of elite. In other words, Morocco has not entered into a new era of democratization, but rather follows the path of limited political reform King Hassan II had already initiated. This ‘change in continuity’, often praised in Morocco, is also welcomed in the EU. As said before, the EU has a prime interest in stability and therefore willingly accepts the limitations of a reform process that proceeds under strict governmental control. But where are the limits to such tolerance? In the aftermath of the September 11 events, when many southern Mediterranean regimes exploited the mood to become more rigid, suppressing all kinds of opposition in the name of the fight against terrorism, Morocco reacted comparatively moderately. Nevertheless, an


increase in repression and a certain stalemate in the process of political reform could be observed after the Casablanca bombing in May 2003; a change for the worse which the EU seems to tolerate. Haddadi warns that the EU’s softly-softly approach could be exploited by certain political forces, leading to further suppression of political freedom and the delaying of sensitive and genuine reforms, especially following September 11 as the ‘legitimized’ pretext to fight terrorism. Morocco is also in the focus of Laura Feliu’s contribution on Spanish foreign policy and the external promotion of democracy and human rights. She highlights the bilateral dimension of Euro-Mediterranean relations, where relations are often more intense than in the overarching framework of the EMP, yet have a considerable impact on the Partnership. Morocco is a country of vital importance for Spain, which fears that its interests could be affected by the implementation of coercive policies by the EU. Spain therefore opposes the use of negative instruments such as sanctions and advocates, at least on the declaratory level, the route of incentives and rewards for a positive political evolution. However, Feliu’s empirical research proves that not even actions of a positive character have been fully executed. Feliu explains Spanish reluctance towards external democracy promotion with various domestic reasons, on the one hand, and the so-called ‘foreign policy paradox’, on the other: the closer the relations between two countries, the more possibilities of influencing the practice of the other state but, at the same time, the more reticence in applying the instruments available, due to the interests at stake. The result is that, in general (as is the case with Morocco), other considerations neutralize the promotion of human rights. Given the geographical proximity between southern and northern Mediterranean countries, the ‘foreign policy paradox’ as defined by Feliu can be applied to France, Italy, Portugal and Greece too. For the future of the EMP it is most worrying that those countries that are closest to the southern Mediterranean, and which have a lot of national interests there, question the EMP’s normative dimension the most. This trend follows its own logic and was not initiated by the terror attacks on Washington and New York. However, the need to build an international alliance to fight terrorism provides good arguments for all those EU member states that have a national interest in downgrading political conditionality within the framework of the EMP. Only when a severe case of human rights violation in Morocco, the Lmrabet case, shook up public opinion in Spain, a critical debate was released that seems to slowly spread to the political elite. Eduard Soler i Lecha continues where Feliu ends, adding the subnational level to the analysis on Spain. Soler i Lecha compares the two Euromed Civil Fora that have been held in Spain, the first in Barcelona in 1995 and the last in Valencia in 2002. He emphasizes the fact that local


and regional actors can also contribute to the external promotion of democracy, for example, by hosting civil society conferences like the Euromed Civil, Fora. However, his empirical research proves that their room for manoeuvre is limited, since it is determined by the complex interrelations between local, regional, national and supranational interests. In Barcelona, civil society had to cope with heavy governmental, regional and local interference, forcing it to exclude various politically sensitive issues from the agenda. Compared to that, there was a much wider room for manoeuvre in Valencia, due to a lack of political interest in the event— despite September 11. Thus, it is not external factors alone that matter, but also domestic dynamics at the meso and micro level—often far away from high politics. Empirical research on the sub-national level is complemented by Angela Grünert’s contribution on human rights organizations in Egypt and the repercussions of September 11 on their external support. In contrast with Morocco, the Egyptian government has excessively exploited the securitization of international terrorism in order to fight its domestic opponents. Islamists especially are repressed with all means and little respect for human rights. Democratic human rights organizations defending them—in spite of manifest political divergence among them—are increasingly being accused of Islamist leanings and therefore persecuted. Against this background, it has become more and more difficult for external donors like the EU to maintain support for these democratic organizations. The time when Egypt—although unwillingly—tolerated external democracy promotion seems to have come to an end. What was tacitly accepted in the past, with Egypt committing itself through the Barcelona Declaration to the values of democracy and human rights, is now denounced as interference in domestic affairs. To avoid serious conflict with the government of Egypt, one of the most important countries in the region and therefore also a major player in the fight against terrorism, the European Commission (along with many other international donors) has withdrawn its support for many human rights organizations. By doing so, the Commission not only left its particular partner organizations in the lurch, but also undermined Europe’s credibility as a trustworthy partner among democratic forces in general. September 11 has thus helped the Egyptian government to put an end to the contested alliances between human rights organizations and European donors, thereby gradually undermining the EMP’s bottom-up approach to democratization. At the same time, it has set a precedent, inviting other authoritarian MPCs to follow suit. Empirical research findings on external democracy support are also provided by Stephan Stetter, although from another perspective and with regard to another country. His contribution on EU assistance for


democratization processes in Palestine opens with the provocative question of whether it is possible to promote democratization without democracy. According to Stetter, the EU fails to take into account both the lack of democracy in the Arab MPCs and its own problems in implementing democracy promotion policies. By supporting the Palestinian Authority without linking this support to a set of political preconditions, the EU tried to consolidate a democratization process that in reality had not even started. This strategy, however, proved to be counterproductive with regard to the democratic build-up of the Palestinian state and with regard to a re-launch of the Middle East peace process. Adopting an institutionalist perspective, Stetter discusses the implications of the EU system of governance for the implementation of these policies on the ground. The special value of this contribution is amongst other things that the analysis of institutional deficits is complemented by useful recommendations on how to overcome them. Muriel Asseburg’s contribution has the same sub-regional focus in analysing European attempts to overcome the Middle East conflict, the main stumbling block for further progress on the part of the EMP It was the Oslo Process that once paved the way for the setting up of the EMP because without a foreseeable end to the Middle East conflict it would have been impossible to bring such a comprehensive partnership project into being. The idea of integrating the Middle East into the group of MPCs—a purely unilateral decision taken by the EU—was that the Barcelona Process would help to stabilize the MEPP. Israel was to overcome its isolation and to integrate into a newly evolving ‘Mediterranean region’. At the same time, the new Palestinian state was to gain a regional context to make it less dependent on its close—but conflict-ridden—relations with Israel. The construction of a Mediterranean security community including the hot spot of the Middle East was an attempt to promote political and economic stability in the EU’s periphery—in its own best interests. Southern perspectives on regionalism in the Mediterranean are slightly divergent, but this is discussed at the end of this collection. The unexpected breakdown of the MEPP postponed all visions of a peaceful Mediterranean region anyway, diverting dynamics in the opposite direction. Since the Netanyahu years (1996–99) and particularly since the outbreak of the Al-Aqsa Intifada (September 2000), the Middle East conflict has been paralysing the EMP. So far, all attempts to decouple the two issues have failed due to Arab resistance. There is no field of cooperation within the EMP that is not affected in one way or another by the stalemate in the MEPP. The EU does have other frameworks than the EMP to pursue a European Middle East policy, but even though its room for manoeuvre remains limited. Asseburg identifies three factors that have long impeded successful EU policy-making in the Middle East: the negative conduct of the two


conflicting parties; diverging perceptions within the EU; and the incoherence between EU and US strategies. After September 11, the situation has deteriorated dramatically and with it Europe’s role in the game. The aftermath of September 11 has given Israel the opportunity to justify its excessive reactions to Palestinian terror attacks by equating them with the fight against international terrorism. If securitizing international terrorism annuls binding rules such as human rights and international law, then why should Israel restrict itself in its fight against Palestinian terrorism? Until the end of the Iraq war the US administration seemed to have accepted this logic and relieved Israel from further pressure to moderate. Thus, securitizing international terrorism has set a fatal precedent and broken taboos that will be difficult to re-establish. Against this background, it has become more difficult than previously to stop the spiral of violence in the Middle East, the task of the newly set up ‘road map’ under the auspices of the US, UN, Russia and the EU. This does not mean ignoring the earlier shortcomings of EU policies. According to Asseburg, the EU’s major failure lay in its strategy of maintaining peace in the Middle East although no peace had been achieved. Maintaining peace and promoting a peace process are two different things, each demanding its own strategies and instruments. Having finally realized that, the EU has shifted its priorities and has become more active in crisis intervention. It has assumed an ever more active diplomatic role—searching for a way out of the impasse and for a political solution to the conflict. However, chances of a successful pacification of the Middle East conflict remain poor, due to a multitude of factors that are beyond the influence of European policy, but also due to the continuing inability of the EU to harmonize diverging national perceptions of the Middle East conflict. Vanishing hopes for a foreseeable end to the Middle East conflict justify critical questions with regard to the composition of the ‘Mediterranean region’ in its present form. As long as the Middle East conflict is not resolved, Israel remains the most difficult security problem for Arab MPCs —and vice versa. Against this background, the construction of a Mediterranean security community including both partners to the conflict appears to be rather utopian. But this is not the only factor that raises doubts with regard to the EMP’s composition. The forthcoming EU enlargement, especially the accession of Cyprus and Malta, will have an even greater impact: it will further increase the asymmetry of EuroMediterranean relations in favour of the EU, and it will leave Israel isolated in a group of only Arab countries. Against this background, Béchir Chourou and Alfred Tovias question the concept of a Euro-Mediterranean region as constructed by the EU. According to Chourou, the EMP in its present structure is not conducive to greater welfare in the MPCs, due to the asymmetrical relations between


the integrated and prosperous EU on the one hand and the less developed and heterogeneous group of MPCs on the other. Since this is a structural problem, there is no possibility of solving it within the existing framework. As a way out, Chourou suggests the setting up of a southern sub-region within the EMP, bringing together partners that are more homogeneous with regard to their economic, financial and political powers. To improve their joint position vis-à-vis the EU, they would first of all have to start integrating among themselves. According to Chourou, an overarching interregional partnership like the EMP can only lead to political and economic development if two approximately equal regions co-operate within it. Free trade should therefore be postponed until this interim result has been achieved. Taking the Arab League or the Arab Maghreb Union as a starting point for South-South integration, Chourou opts for the opening of the EMP to all Arab countries. With or without an extension to other Arab countries, the changes in the map of Europe and of the EMP also call for a rethinking by Israeli policymakers of Israel’s place in the EU’s system of external relations. Since the gap between Israel and its Arab neighbours has grown economically, culturally and politically, Alfred Tovias does not locate Israel in a new evolving southern Mediterranean region. Instead, he draws attention to the increasing similarities between Israel and the EU. Israel is becoming more and more European, not only with regard to its political system and its economic development, but also culturally, due to the ongoing immigration of Jews from the former USSR. At the same time, EU enlargement brings the EU closer to Israel. Tovias leaves open the question of what form of Euro-Israeli rapprochement would be best for both sides, discussing the pros and cons of various models between the status quo and EU accession. Conclusions Taken together, the contributions to this collection make more than clear that the EMP in its present form is severely challenged: with regard to its normative dimension, based on the values of democracy and human rights, but also with regard to its geographical composition, which appears to some as a rather artificial construction. To start with the first point, empirical research has verified the thesis presented in the introduction: the (weak) approaches towards democratization in the region are highly endangered by the securitization of international terrorism. Since the logic of securitization annuls the normal political rules of the game, authoritarian MPCs can easily misuse it to criminalize and persecute all kinds of opposition inside their country. Some of them, like Egypt, do so excessively; others, like Morocco, remain within the limits of political moderation. Notwithstanding such differences, September 11 has given all MPCs an elegant pretext to escape from the normative framework of the EMP.


But it is not only MPCs that are taking advantage of the paradigmatic changes in international security policies. Some EU member states, especially in southern Europe, are tacit allies in the attempt to undermine the EU’s external policy of democracy promotion. Since the fight against international terrorism has gained top priority, demands to reduce political conditionality within the EMP have been brought forward by Europeans too. Their motivation derives not so much from the proclaimed partnership spirit, but rather from the fear that sanctioning instruments might have negative repercussions on their national interests in the region. Apart from these direct repercussions, more subtle developments have been observed that can also be traced back to September 11 and its aftermath. It is well known that European perceptions of the southern Mediterranean have always been overshadowed by vague, diffuse fears. After all, the EMP was initiated to tackle new security problems that had emerged (or were discovered) with the passing of the cold war and the increase of globalization processes. The EMP was a forward-looking approach to the objective of overcoming mutual distrust through dialogue and co-operation on the ground. However, since the roots of international terrorism are traced back to the realm of radical Islamism, the process of gradual rapprochement has come to a halt and has perhaps already gone into reverse. European co-operation in the EMP’s framework is dominated increasingly by security concerns, reviving latent feelings of mutual rejection. The way migration problems are currently treated is only one, though representative, example to illustrate this point. Taken together, September 11 and its aftermath have had the effect of Europeans solving the ‘democratization-stabilization dilemma’ increasingly in favour of the latter. In a long-term perspective, however, this strategy might prove wrong. As stated in the introduction, the promotion of democracy in third countries combines ethical and pragmatic concerns. The pragmatic concerns are based on a set of very clear—not to say ‘realistic’— assumptions: since democracies are comparatively stable in their domestic policies and are much more likely to solve their external conflicts peacefully than in the case of authoritarian regimes, it is advantageous for the EU to be surrounded by democracies. However, only democracies with a welfare orientation, taking on an active, creative role in the field of economic management, redistribution of wealth and social security, are capable of establishing or maintaining the social harmony that is necessary for a country’s economic and political stability [Boeck, 1993]. If it is the EU’s prime goal to establish sustainable stability in its southern periphery, two consequences can be drawn from that: the EU should take its foreign policy of democracy promotion seriously, and it should stick to the comprehensive approach of tackling the manifold causes of conflict and instability in the Mediterranean. Although September 11 has added new security risks that cannot be ignored, the tackling of so-called soft security


issues remains pivotal for the development of a peaceful and prosperous Mediterranean region. However, the EU cannot shoulder this task unilaterally: it needs its partners on the southern side. Since the EMP is far away from meeting the preconditions necessary to establish a Euro-Mediterranean security community, alternatives to this concept are being searched for. The two suggestions presented at the end of this collection are both implicitly based on the assumption that peace in the Middle East cannot be expected in the short- or medium term. Therefore, the authors of each of them have both given up the idea of a Mediterranean region including Israel. Furthermore, they document a rather high degree of disappointment with regard to the poor results the EMP has produced in the southern countries of the Mediterranean. Not only the MPCs, but also the EU and its member states are neglecting the obligations they undertook at Barcelona. The main reproach against the EU is, apart from a general lack of partnership spirit, Europe’s persistent protectionism, which disregards the requirements of fair trade relations. The EU should take this criticism, which has repeatedly been brought forward, much more seriously, in its own best interests. Nevertheless, the main stumbling block for progress through the EMP remains the Middle East conflict, which might even put an end to the whole concept. The logic of including the Middle East in the newly evolving Mediterranean region was to create a broader framework that would stabilize the fragile peace process. If the MEPP cannot be relaunched in time, this logic will be reduced to absurdity. Then Europeans would have to face the fact that Arab MPCs and Israel perceive each other as the main security problem, more important to them than all the security concerns the EU associates with the region. Indeed, a new framework would then have to be constructed—together with the southern partners. In a long-term perspective, it is desirable to have a Euro-Mediterranean region that is integrated to such an extent that it becomes almost irrelevant whether a country belongs to the northern or to the southern side of the partnership. This might sound utopian from our present vantage-point, but given the ongoing necessity to cope with problems affecting both shores of the Mediterranean, there is no alternative to intense Euro-Mediterranean co-operation. REFERENCES Attinà, F. and S.Stavridis (eds.) (2001): The Barcelona Process and EuroMediterranean Issues from Stuttgart to Marseille, Milan: Giuffrè. Biscop, S. (2003): Euro-Mediterranean Security: In Search of Partnership, Hampshire: Ashgate (forthcoming).


Boeck, A. (1993): ‘Entwicklungstheorien—Eine Rückschau’, in D.Nohlen and F.Nuscheler (eds.), Handbuch der Dritten Welt, Bd. 1 Grundprobleme, Theorien, Strategien, 3. Aufl., Bonn: Dietz. Buzan, B., O.Waever, and J.de Wilde (1998): Security: A New Framework for Analysis, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Daoud, Z. (1993): Féminisme et Politique au Maghreb (1930–1992), Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose. Dembinski, M. (2002): Unilateralismus versus Multilateralismus. Die USA und das spannungsreiche Verhältnis zwischen Demokratie und Internationaler Organisation, Frankfurt: HSFK. Deutsch, K.W. (1957): Political Community in the North Atlantic Area, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Duchêne, F. (1972): ‘Europe’s Role in World Peace’, in R.Mayne (ed.), Europe Tomorrow: Sixteen Europeans Look Ahead, London and Basingstoke: Fontana & Collins. Gillespie, R. and R.Youngs (2002): ‘Themes in European Democracy Promotion’, in Gillespie and Youngs (eds.). Gillespie, R. and R.Youngs (eds.) (2002): The EU and the Promotion of Democracy: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Hill, C. (1990): ‘European Foreign Policy: Power Bloc, Civilian Model—or Flop?’ in R.Rummel (ed.), The Evolution of an International Actor: Western Europe’s New Assertiveness, Boulder, CO and Oxford: Westview. Jünemann, A. (1998): ‘Democratization—Reflections on the Political Dimension of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in P.G.Xuereb (ed.), The Mediterranean’s European Challenge, Valetta: European Documentation and Research Centre, University of Malta. Jünemann, A. (1999): ‘Europas Mittelmeerpolitik im regionalen und globalen Wandel: Interessen und Zielkonflikte’, in W.Zippel (ed.), Die Mittelmeerpolitik der EU, Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlag. Jünemann, A. (2000): ‘Support for Democracy or Fear of Islamism? Europe and Algeria’, in K. Hafez (ed.), The Islamic World and the West: An Introduction to Political Cultures and International Relations, London: Brill. Jünemann, A. (2002): ‘From the Bottom to the Top: Civil Society and Transnational Non-Governmental Organizations in the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in Gillespie and Youngs (eds.) [2002]. Jünemann, A. and N.Schörnig (2002): ‘Die Sicherheits- und Verteidigungspolitik der “Zivilmacht Europa”. Ein Widerspruch in sich?’ HSFK-Report 13/2002, Franfurt: Peace Research Institute. Panebianco, S. (ed.) (2003): A New Euro-Mediterranean Cultural Identity, London and Portland, OR : Frank Cass (forthcoming). Perthes, V. (ed.) (2002): Elitenwandel in der arabischen Welt und Iran, SWPStudie, Berlin: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik.

2 Reshaping the Agenda? The Internal Politics of the Barcelona Process in the Aftermath of September 11 RICHARD GILLESPIE

The Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) was criticized during its early years, among other things, for an uneven development of the three baskets of the Barcelona Declaration of 1995. While the second basket, outlining plans to develop an economic and financial partnership, was pursued with the greatest vigour, and the first basket, concerning a political and security partnership, became the subject of regular meetings between senior foreign ministry officials, the third basket—devoted to a partnership in social, cultural and human affairs—was pursued only half-heartedly. Why this was so is not firmly established, but probable reasons that led to this relative neglect of the third basket include: the assumption that economic liberalization was the key to the success of the whole Barcelona Process (thus prioritizing the second basket); the top-down approach taken to partnership-building, which lent itself much more easily to the development of the first two baskets; and the EU’s relative lack of practical experience with the cultural dimension of partnership envisaged in the third basket. Nevertheless, the third basket did feature in the Barcelona Declaration, both as a result of the genesis of EU approaches to partnership-building across the Mediterranean, which in terms of methodology can be traced back to the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), and because of the importance acquired by human rights in the Community’s ideological baggage by the 1990s. In the new millennium, however, the third basket of the EMP agenda has begun to acquire a more substantial script. While there is still a lack of consideration among policy-makers of how the different baskets should interact in order to serve the Barcelona objectives, there is now a more serious attitude to the idea of a partnership in social, cultural and human affairs. This began to emerge well before September 11, as a reflection of the expansion of the EU’s own justice and home affairs (JHA) agenda, but it has been reinforced since then as part of general efforts to ‘reinvigorate’ the EMP and more specific attempts to develop inter-cultural dialogue and co-operation in the wake of the September 11 attacks and the challenge they represent.

THE INTERNAL POLITICS OF THE BARCELONA PROCESS 21

This study looks at how the third basket has developed and with what significance for the EMP. It examines a process that is still unfolding and about which only provisional observations may be made at the present time. Nevertheless, some useful indications have been provided by the Action Plan approved at the conference of Euro-Mediterranean foreign ministers in Valencia in April 2002 [Gillespie, 2002] and more generally by the evolution of policy initiatives within the EU during the period of the Spanish Presidency of the European Council (from January to June of 2002). In the analysis that follows, the first section is devoted to the changing international context within which the agenda of the Barcelona Process has developed, and how this has served as pressure on EMP policy-makers to upgrade the third basket. Subsequent sections focus on the two major policy dimensions that now feature in the third basket of the EMP, namely JHA and cultural dialogue (although the former not so neatly as the latter, given that JHA references are present in both the first and the third baskets whereas cultural dialogue is fully accommodated in the third one). Finally, some tentative conclusions are offered as to the significance of the recent policy initiatives for the Barcelona Process. The Changing International Context For the EU in general, changes in the external environment and in relations between Europe and the outside world have been crucial in convincing policy actors of the need to take the third basket more seriously, their earlier ambivalence having been demonstrated by the chequered existence of the EMP’s Civil Forum [Jünemann, 2003]. The upgrading of the third basket can be seen as the fruit of three separate processes. First, since the early 1990s, and especially since the Tampere Council of the European Council in October 1999, with immigration concerns foremost, the EU had been developing its own JHA agenda [Monar, 2001; Huysmans, 2000]. So far as migrants were concerned, the European Union began to differentiate more categorically between immigrants who were legally present in Europe, in whose case the policy objectives aimed at fostering social inclusion, and immigrants who were present without authorization, who in future were to be the subject of a combination of preventive and exclusionary police measures. Although this agenda was pushed largely in the name of new ‘security’ concerns (and thus bore relation to the first basket of the EMP), the EU’s desire to engage Mediterranean Partner countries (MPCs) in collaborative efforts to regulate migratory flows tended to lead the EU to locate the new JHA element primarily in the third basket of the Barcelona Process. Hitherto, whenever the Europeans had raised the question of migration for debate within the EMP, southern partners had responded by expressing grievances over the xenophobia and racism encountered by migrants in the EU, while


calling for greater human mobility across frontiers to be achieved through the Partnership. In other words, the response had involved linkage by MPCs of ostensible first basket issues with third basket issues. Seeking to facilitate a more positive southern response, to ‘legitimize’ the very idea of security co-operation and to overcome the total blockage of progress on security issues caused by southern objections to the proposed Charter for Peace and Stability (see below), the Europeans eventually came out in favour of locating the emerging migration agenda in the third basket of the EMP. That this was not altogether a coherent strategic decision is perhaps best indicated by the fact that in the Commission communication adopted in February 2002, in preparation for the Valencia Conference, JHA matters were given their own section, separate from the sections of the document devoted to the three traditional baskets of the EMP. Commission officials were aware of North-South divergence on several JHA issues and the highly sensitive nature of this policy domain [Mira Salama, 2002:16– 17]. While the preparations for Valencia were being made (chiefly by the Commission and by a working group based in the Spanish Ministry of Foreign Affairs), the perception of linkages between migration policy, cultural tensions and electoral competition was becoming more prevalent within the EU. By the time of the Valencia Conference, public controversy in Europe over asylum seekers and economic migrants had grown, and had found reflection in a shift to the right in various western European elections. Indeed, the atmosphere of the Valencian ministerial conference was charged by the particularly dramatic success of Jean-Marie Le Pen the previous day, in the first round of the French presidential elections (Financial Times, 23 April 2002). Second, the diversion of activity away from the first basket, as efforts to build a security and political partnership became bogged down against a background of protracted collapse of the Middle East peace process (MEPP), was a factor in itself. The aspiration to build up from modest confidence-building measures to the establishment of collective security arrangements fell victim to a combination of structural and conjunctural impediments: the former constituted by the contrasting national security concerns of the EMP-27 [Attinà, 2002], the latter by the deteriorating situation in the Near East. These obstacles had brought the EMP to a moment of real crisis at the time of the Euro-Mediterranean foreign ministers conference in Marseilles in November 2000 [Spencer, 2001]. Boycotted by the Syrians and Lebanese, earlier hopes of adopting a Charter for Peace and Stability at this meeting were dashed, notwithstanding considerable efforts in Paris to drive the Barcelona Process forward during the French Presidency. None the less, with the Middle East conflict looming large, the need for confidence- and partnership-building now seemed clearer than ever.


Increasing numbers of European policy practitioners came to see the third basket as a context within which to broach security issues that could not, for the moment, be addressed in the first basket, and/or to undertake a more sustained cross-cultural dialogue, involving greater contact and cooperation at the level of civil society. Moreover, a new emphasis on the third basket was seen as a means of maintaining or regaining some momentum within the Process at a time when the overall project was threatened by delays and blockages affecting not only the proposed Charter but also some crucial negotiations on certain EMP association agreements. Third, there was the increased pressure for the EMP to respond to new security challenges around the Mediterranean, initially in the form of the resurgence of Israeli-Palestinian political violence and then with the advent of a more global yet decentralized and diffuse form of terrorism heralded by the attacks on 11 September 2001 (followed since by alleged Al-Qaeda activity in countries such as Morocco and Tunisia). In terms of policy responses, an unprecedented urgency began to surround European and other efforts to engage in direct forms of collaboration against immediate existential threats from terrorism. In addition to new forms of international and European security collaboration, EU policy actors saw the third basket of the EMP as a ready-made framework within which to develop new cultural initiatives in response to the deep alienation and burning sense of injustice, focused on the Middle East, that was seen to lie behind much of the Islamist radicalism and violence. The new interest in the EU undertaking such initiatives was heightened by European concerns at the militaristic fashion in which the Bush Administration had announced its ‘war on terrorism’ and was beginning to target an ‘axis of evil’. European officials had broadly rejected Huntington’s ‘clash of civilizations’ thesis when it was first articulated. Following September 11, however, it appeared to some to be a rather more plausible scenario, although not an inevitable one—indeed one that could be averted partly by making conscious efforts through the EMP, both in the form of reinforced security co-operation and of enhanced dialogue and cultural co-operation, aimed at challenging cultural stereotypes and gradually constructing a security community in the Mediterranean [Adler and Crawford, 2002]. Whereas, prior to September 11, Spanish thinking on the development of the third basket had revolved around the idea of giving it a JHA content, with an emphasis on migration, after this date there was a considerable shift towards developing the cultural agenda, chiefly through proposals to establish a Euro-Mediterranean Foundation. Thus there are a number of factors that have influenced European policy practitioners in recent years, prompting them to rethink their objectives within the EMP. It was by no means certain, however, that their responses to new challenges would be sufficiently similar to permit a consensus to


emerge, substantial enough to reshape the EMP policy agenda in a particular direction. After all, officialdom in the countries involved in the Partnership already possessed nationally differentiated profiles in relation to various aspects of the Barcelona policy agenda (democracy promotion, human rights, agricultural export access for the South). Although the immediate impact of September 11 was to suppress national differences and sensitivities in the search for effective forms of international cooperation against terrorism, there was none the less the possibility that fresh controversies would arise as the third basket was given content, with disagreements arising within the EU as well as between member states and MPCs, or between MPCs themselves. Nevertheless, the Valencia Conference was able to take new programmatic initiatives, not simply as a response to impersonal contextual influences but also as a result of the activity of certain policy actors, the constraints inhibiting others and the existence of a spirit of compromise. The Spanish hosts deserve credit in the first place for the very fact that the conference took place, despite some expectations that it would have to be postponed as a result of escalating violence in the Middle East. The event was only one of several activities envisaged by the Spanish Presidency [2002b] as a contribution to the EU’s development as a global actor, yet was perceived in Madrid as one of relatively few items on the EU policy agenda over which member states were likely to entertain Spanish initiatives. Besides enjoying the prestige derived from having provided the birthplace of the Barcelona Process, Spain was in a rare position to exert influence within the EU: on the one hand, the Aznar—Blair relationship had reached unprecedented heights; on the other hand, the traditionally influential Germany and France were behaving cautiously owing to electoral competition at home. In relation to the EMP agenda, Spain had also found at least one new European ally for its purposes through converging with the Swedes on the importance of cultural dialogue. Sweden is the only EU member state to have seen the third basket of the EMP as a priority from the very start of the Barcelona Process. It organized joint conferences with Jordan and Egypt on third basket themes in the late 1990s, both held in Stockholm, before establishing the Swedish Institute in Alexandria in October 2000 as a centre for cultural dialogue [Schumacher, 2001]. Although the possibility of an EMP policy initiative during the Swedish Presidency of the EU (during the first six months of 2001) was knocked sideways by the fallout from the Al-Aqsa Intifada, the Swedes eventually found a southern European interlocutor and collaborator in Spain. The two countries worked together on ideas to develop a ‘dialogue between cultures and civilizations’, which eventually would be adopted as part of the Action Plan during the Spanish Presidency.


An important novelty of the Spanish Presidency lay in its determination to establish a broad North-South consensus around new EMP initiatives. Here, the Spaniards departed from the traditional EU practice of negotiating a European consensus first and then seeking MPC endorsement. Even before the Valencia Action Plan existed in draft form, Spanish diplomats (during the latter months of 2001) made visits to the capitals of the MPCs in an attempt to reconcile the various aims and aspirations of each country. The Spanish claim is that the Valencia Action Plan represents the first EMP document adopted by consensus among all its members [Montobbio, 2002:17].1 The Action Plan eventually presented to the foreign ministers in Valencia was thus one that had already been approved by the EMP at senior official level. The Spaniards themselves contributed to the compromise package by finally back-peddling on one of their own major proposals, that of creating a Euro-Mediterranean Bank, despite the fact that originally this had been envisaged by Partido Popular leaders in Madrid (with their characteristic emphasis on the economic aspects of external relations) as their ‘big idea’ for progress at Valencia. Spain had to be satisfied with an assurance that this proposal would be reconsidered in a year’s time. Though the idea was popular among MPCs, some northern member states saw the proposal as ill-conceived and unnecessary. Several European countries sought to establish ‘red lines’ in advance of Valencia, ruling out—in different cases— approval of any new resources or new institutions, or any policy innovation relating to agriculture, aid or debt. Nevertheless, a degree of compromise emerged with, for example, certain northern member states and Commission officials acceding to Spanish desires to play down the democracy promotion agenda of the Barcelona Process. Consensus at Valencia was assisted too, in a paradoxical way, by the absence of Syria and Lebanon, and by skilful management of discussion on the Middle East conflict [Gillespie, 2002]. The result was sufficient consensus and compromise to secure the adoption of a new framework for co-operation in the third basket, but with very little definition of the specific ways in which either JHA or cultural cooperation might be enhanced. While opening the door to the discussion of enhanced co-operation, the conference provided no guarantee that such cooperation would ensue. Transferring or Adapting the JHA Agenda? Developments in the EMP policy agenda must be understood in the first instance in the context of European integration advances, most directly the rapid growth of JHA co-operation from 1999 in response to diverse ‘soft’ security concerns in Europe. The migration and other JHA concerns registered at the Tampere meeting of the European Council in Autumn


1999 found reflection in the Common Strategy on the Mediterranean adopted by the EU in Santa Maria da Feira in June 2000, a whole section of which was devoted to issues that had received only passing mention in the Barcelona Declaration [European Council, 2000] (Euromed Report 10, 20 June 2000). The same document committed the EU to a review of the Barcelona Process, ‘with the aim of reinvigorating the Process and making it more action-oriented and results-driven’ (Euromed Report 10, p.3). Responding to this mandate, in September the Commission produced proposals for ‘Reinvigorating the Barcelona Process’, aimed at the approaching conference of Euro-Mediterranean foreign ministers in Marseilles. Among these proposals was the idea of developing a regional JHA programme embracing issues such as asylum and refugees, illegal immigration, social inclusion, judicial co-operation and organized crime [European Commission, 2000]. The Marseilles Conference itself called on senior officials to expand their work on both migration and terrorism, but it achieved desperately little in concrete terms owing to the impact of the sharp deterioration in the Middle East conflict (which affected Arab participation) and the preoccupation of the French EU Presidency with the adoption of the—for the moment ‘unadoptable’—Charter for Peace and Stability. From spring 2001, JHA went on to become ‘one of the main domains’ of EMP activity, seen most clearly in the establishment of regular meetings of JHA senior officials, parallel to the meetings of senior officials on political and security matters [Bicchi, 2002]. The first such meeting was held in Montpelier in June 2001 and began a dialogue in preparation for a regional JHA programme (Euromed Synopsis 144, 8 June 2001). The focus on terrorism was sharpened considerably by the events of September 11, yet was to be accompanied, at the EMP foreign ministers’ meeting in Brussels early in November, by an emphasis on ‘dialogue between cultures and civilizations’ and the need to combat racism and xenophobia. Commission information bulletins reporting the event referred to the ‘high significance’ of the third basket ‘in the present international situation’ (Euromed Report 31, 31 Oct. 2001). Whereas enhanced anti-terrorist co-operation had been the dominant chord in EU-focused post-September 11 deliberations (immediate approval of the European arrest warrant, enhanced intelligence sharing, the listing of terrorist organizations whose assets might be frozen), in the EMP context—with work on the Charter stalled—the emphasis was much more on third basket reinforcement. In practice this meant that existing JHA themes would be imported from the EU and placed alongside the idea of a cultural dialogue, where the immediate priorities were programmes relating to youth, education and the media. This strategic approach was endorsed in April 2002 at the Valencia Conference, whose agenda was shaped by largely convergent proposals


emanating from the European Commission and the Spanish Presidency [European Commission, 2002; Spanish Presidency, 2002a]. A framework document was endorsed at the Conference, anticipating a ‘regional cooperation programme in the field of Justice, in combating drugs, organised crime and terrorism as well as cooperation in the treatment of issues relating to the social integration of migrants, migration and movements of persons’ (‘Presidency Conclusions’, Euromed Report 42 W, 26 April 2002; Euromed Report 44, 29 April 2002). The title itself (which hardly rolls off the tongue) is clearly a product of bargaining between the EU and the MPCs. It implies that the introduction of this new policy dimension may not represent an instance of effective policy transfer by the EU, as originally intended by the Europeans [Bicchi, 2002]; indeed, the title suggests more a process of policy adaptation within the asymmetrical multilateral context of the EMP. Of course, considerable scepticism is in order here, given the way in which EMP policy content was shaped almost exclusively by the Europeans during the early years of the Barcelona Process, and the relatively modest results of Arab attempts to co-ordinate their input into the policy process. The practical consequences of this programme are not yet clear. It would seem from the contents of Commission information bulletins that initially there was a greater MPC readiness to expand third basket cooperation in the social and cultural fields than in relation to terrorism. Of course, there has been ad hoc anti-terrorist collaboration between EU and MPC interior ministries since the late 1990s, with some suggestion of greater co-ordination since September 11 (notably the ad hoc meeting of senior officials and experts on terrorism held in Brussels in late March 2002). But as was seen at the Valencia Conference itself, structured cooperation in this field is prevented by the lack of a common definition of terrorism among the partners with, for instance, the Arab states unwilling to include the activities of militant Palestinian organizations under this heading. A clear sign of the basic lack of consensus in this area was the way in which the Conference, rather lamely, looked primarily to the UN— rather than regional initiatives—for a response to global terrorism (El País, 24 April 2002). Even over migration, where prima facie the foundations exist for NorthSouth co-operation (improved treatment of MPC citizens legally present in the EU in return for MPC collaboration with the EU in combating irregular migration), the outlook is not entirely positive. Despite the much larger resources that the EU now seems ready to invest in a Common Migration Policy (significantly overshadowing its modest investment in CFSP), it remains far from certain that the prerequisites for effective North-South cooperation are present. In recent years, there have been considerable benefits (reduced pressure from unemployment, financial remittances) as well as losses (in human capital) for the MPCs from emigration, and thus few


incentives for them to invest their scarce resources in the policing of approach routes to Europe. Moreover, as one saw shortly before the European Council meeting in Seville in June 2002, the readiness of certain EU member states (Spain, Britain, Germany) to contemplate sanctions against any Third Countries refusing to enter into readmission agreements with the Union (Financial Times, 21 June 2002) provokes real concern in countries such as Morocco, which has been in dispute with Spain partly because of this very issue. Even in the domain of migration, where the Barcelona rhetoric about a partnership in ‘social, cultural and human affairs’ could conceivably be approached through genuine partnership-building efforts, there still appears to be a knee-jerk tendency within the EU to rely upon its economic muscle in order to impose its own agenda on others. Towards a Cultural Partnership? Besides heralding future innovations in the field of JHA, the Valencia Conference has done more than any previous conference of EMP foreign ministers to establish a political basis for development of the cultural component of the Barcelona Process. Although there were some steps taken in the first basket (the introduction of defence matters into a reinforced political dialogue; support for the creation of a Euro-Mediterranean Parliamentary Assembly) and in the second (an enhanced European Investment Bank facility for the MPCs; strong support for the Agadir initiative in horizontal sub-regional integration), the dominant theme was provided by the moves to give content to the third basket. The shift of agenda focus between Barcelona IV (Marseilles) and Barcelona V (Valencia) which this represented sought to minimize the negative fallout from the Middle East conflict, despite the further deterioration of the same. It was calculated to bring progress notwithstanding the continuing absence of the Syrian and Lebanese partners from the ministerial gathering—neither of which, in any case, had questioned the document to be approved at Valencia [Montobbio, 2002:14]. In fact the Valencia Action Plan contains a ‘plan within a plan’. All new initiatives approved at Valencia are outlined in the Plan, and within the section devoted to the third basket there is a specific ‘Action Plan on Dialogue between Cultures and Civilizations’, with particular focuses on youth, education and the media. In this context, the extension of the Tempus programme to the MPCs promises to significantly multiply contacts among EMP universities from 2003. At the same time, the decision to establish a Euro-Mediterranean Foundation could be important in several respects: as an instance of EMP institution-building; through the decision to adopt the principle of ‘co-ownership’ (between North and


South); and through implying a more continuous programme of intellectual, cultural and ‘people to people’ exchanges than in the past. However, it is one thing to establish new institutions and programmes and another to make them function in the manner and spirit intended or required. At the time of the Valencia meeting, no consensus had emerged as to how the new Foundation would be structured. This left wide open the question of how or whether ‘co-ownership’ was to be introduced into the new project in practice, and the issue of the respective roles to be played in the Foundation by states and by civil society. The degree of commitment of the EU to this project has been called into question by member state responses to a Commission proposal that the Foundation be funded by a €1 million contribution from each of the member states and the Commission, while MPCs would be invited to make voluntary contributions. This was agreed upon in principle at Valencia but, as Chris Patten revealed in a speech shortly afterwards, there was ‘some reluctance among the Member States to make the 1m Euro contribution as requested from each of them’ (Euromed Report 43, 26 April 2002). In fact, it was not simply northern European parsimony and reservations about EMP institutionalization that prevented a rapid implementation of the Foundation project:2 some countries, including Spain, protested that it was impossible to establish an appropriate budget for the Foundation without clarifying first the structure it would have. While the Spaniards advocated the creation of a substantial new foundation, the Italians preferred a model according to which the new body would be just the centrepiece of a network of foundations, based in Italy. Thus, while the idea of cultural dialogue was given fresh impetus by the Valencia Conference, its development is surrounded by a number of questions and the innovations introduced at the programmatic level could prove just as contentious as previous initiatives in the first basket. Though one of the reasons for increasing the emphasis on the cultural component has been the belief that there are less obstacles to co-operation in this field than elsewhere, the cultural domain has not been immune to political controversy: witness the campaign by some academics to persuade the EU to suspend funding for Israeli universities in protest over military actions by the Sharon government in Palestinian-controlled areas (The Guardian, 27 May 2002); or the way in which cultural dialogue within the EMP thus far has been circumscribed severely by an official exclusion of Islamist currents [Youngs, 2002:50–51]. Moreover, by introducing JHA as a theme in the third basket, there is the potential for disputes over migration or responses to terrorism to ‘spill over’ and thwart the attempt to reinforce the cultural dialogue, especially if the European approach to migrants from MPCs continues to emphasize policing rather than welfare and mutual economic interests. The third basket could become an incoherent hotchpotch, and one can imagine


circumstances in which southern partners might decide to block constructive projects in the field of cultural dialogue in order to demonstrate dissatisfaction over northern immigration policies. Consequences for the EMP What does the mild refashioning of the EMP agenda outlined above signify for the Barcelona Process? If the plans are implemented and the new policy frameworks acquire real content, policy will extend into relatively virgin territory, reflecting new priorities that have emerged or have been reinforced since September 11. It could even be that the emergent JHA agenda may lead to more sophisticated strategic thinking about the EMP as a whole, given the linkage that it implies between the first and third baskets [Bicchi, 2002]. However, experience thus far has demonstrated the difficulty of developing cross-pillar approaches to security issues within the EU context and the inadequacy of existing inter-ministerial co-ordination mechanisms at the national level [Gillespie, 2001]. Moreover, for the moment at least there are few signs of movement around first basket cooperation (as opposed to dialogue). While promising to introduce new forms of co-operation in the field of JHA along with a more sustained and extensive cultural dialogue, the initiatives approved at the Valencia Conference are largely confined to one basket of the Barcelona Process and seem unlikely to do much to ‘reinvigorate’ the first basket (at least in the short term) or the second. The significance of several of the plans approved at Valencia will depend on how they are implemented in practice and on the degree of real resonance they prove to have in the South. The degree of commitment of the MCPs to these plans will be a test of the generalized, essentially bilateral,3 Euro-Med consultations that took place in preparation for the Valencia Conference, through visits conducted by the Presidency, Commission and Council General Secretariat to MPC capitals. Will the apparent consensus around the new initiatives hold up as policy actors get down to the detail of implementation? It is worth noting here that, in the short distance between Valencia (the EMP Conference) and Seville (the European Council meeting held in June 2002), at least one crucial element in European migration policy objectives—readmission agreements—almost came unstuck, when Spain and the UK started to speak of the possibility of sanctions being used against Third Countries that refused to co-operate with EU measures in this area. Equally, there is scope for the narrow consensus achieved at Valencia to be overwhelmed by the discordant notes that were simply written out of the script of the Conference—that is, the areas of disagreement within the EMP that led to various proposals being dropped before the final version of the Action Plan was produced. Even the limited consensus that existed


at the time of Valencia may prove fragile following the US-led war against Iraq, as governments in the Arab world come under pressure from below to distance themselves from the military occupation and the countries involved in it. Another concern about the development of the third basket must be that it will tend to reinforce the elitist nature of the Barcelona Process. Hitherto, the partnership in social, cultural and human affairs has been seen as the component most amenable to decentralized co-operation and the involvement of civil society. Yet large parts of this basket are now susceptible to being developed in the same top-down manner as the other two, not least because cultural co-operation is mixed in with JHA issues in which security perspectives seem likely to privilege an elitist approach. The fact that the Observatory on Employment and Migration, approved at Valencia as part of the social dimension, is to be established in authoritarian Tunisia, a country where genuine NGOs are simply not tolerated, is hardly very reassuring in this regard. Equally, it may be significant that the Conference on Migration and Social Integration of Emigrants, approved for 2003, is to be based at ministerial level. In principle, there is still considerable potential in the decision to create the Euro-Mediterranean Foundation (a decentralized body), but it remains unclear whether in practice this entity will be dominated by government institutions or permitted to develop a certain autonomy and become a focus of opportunity and initiative for civil society bodies. While the preValencia Commission document placed emphasis on the Foundation’s purpose being to promote intellectual, cultural and ‘people to people’ exchanges, the final declaration of the IV Meeting of the EuroMediterranean Parliamentary Forum, which took place in Bari in June, contended that the main players in the Foundation should be governmental and parliamentary institutions of the 27, plus public and private bodies. Of course, it is important that governments do commit themselves to developing this initiative, but it will surely fail if they are too dirigiste. Even if the new initiatives approved at Valencia prosper, it is worth recalling that a number of other ‘reinvigoration’ proposals were blocked, rejected or ignored at Valencia. Above all, the ideas that had been floated for political reform and institutional innovation in the Barcelona Process were paid little more than lip-service and then left for future consideration. The far from revolutionary idea of establishing a Euro-Mediterranean Parliamentary Assembly was supported by the foreign ministers, and left for examination by senior officials in conjunction with the parliamentary bodies of the 27 and the European Parliament. Similarly, European Commission ideas to promote ‘co-ownership’ of the Barcelona Process, such as joint preparation of the Euro-Mediterranean Committee (EMC) agenda [European Commission, 2002:17], were left by the foreign ministers for further consideration in the future. The outcome was simply a


decision to examine ways and means of restructuring the EMC. Of course a huge practical constraint remains in the asymmetrical nature of the EMP and the continuing lack of political integration among southern partners, notwithstanding the existence of the Agadir Process at the economic level. The modesty of the Valencia innovations is seen when one considers some of the proposals that failed to make it into the Action Plan. The EMP continues to lack a dynamic co-ordinator, Spanish ideas for the introduction of a ‘Mr Med’, funded by the EU but representing the 27, having been blocked by Chris Patten in the run-up to the conference. Moreover, while the European Parliament welcomed the Commission proposals shortly before the Valencia Conference, it also mentioned issues where it wanted to go further-for instance, through the innovation of annual EMP summits at head of government/state level and the adoption of a special travel visa for business people, academics, researchers, students, journalists and trade unionists involved in Partnership activities (Euromed Report 41, 12 April 2002). Particularly disappointed by the conference outcome was the EuroMediterranean Human Rights Network, which had expressed concerns that the new JHA agenda would lead to security priorities overshadowing EMP promotion of the rule of law and human rights [EMHRN, 2002]. The Network saw how the poor performance of many MPCs in relation to their democracy and human rights commitments failed to receive any response under the Spanish Presidency—indeed, Spanish relations with Algeria were reinforced.4 The Commission had called for the creation of joint working groups with each MPC to focus on these issues, and for greater conditionality to be introduced into MEDA allocations. All that it secured here was a mandate for senior officials ‘to study the setting up of a more structured dialogue on this sensitive topic’ (Valencia Action Plan, II. 3). Also ignored were some of the more challenging proposals generated by an international seminar held in Barcelona during the preparations for the Spanish Presidency: for instance, the idea of using co-operation over migration issues as an opportunity for cultural dialogue, or the proposal to establish a human rights observatory in an MPC [Generalitat de Catalunya, 2001]. It seems doubtful that the decisions taken at Valencia will bring about the kind of decentralized co-operation that is required to avoid a ‘monopolisation of the Barcelona Process by governments and elites’ [ibid.] and in this respect also reinvigorate the Partnership. At present, the structure of the EMP still provides ample opportunities for defensive partners to veto or water down any proposals that they find unpalatable, leaving progress towards the vision of the future embodied in the Barcelona Declaration of 1995, at best, exceedingly slow. The Valencia Conference has not dramatically altered this reality, but has created some openings


whereby ‘people to people’ contacts could grow, gradually, first and foremost through new forms of cultural exchange. This will be assisted by the approach adopted in relation to the youth, education and media programmes, which the Spaniards have always insisted must be based on the principle of ‘voluntary participation’ [Spanish Presidency, 2002a:17], thus exploiting ‘sub-regional’ opportunities to overcome or bypass resistance. At least in the context of these programmes, individual countries or small groups of countries will not be able to veto initiatives taken by ‘coalitions of the willing’ within the EMP, that involve less than the full 27 partners. There has been no decisive shift yet in this direction, however. In its markedly inconclusive ‘institutional provisions’, the Valencia Action Plan (section V) noted that senior officials would study and put forward proposals leading to the holding of ‘likeminded’ exercises and meetings. Thus, the steps forward taken at Valencia remain tentative and partial, and are lacking in overall strategic coherence. A start has been made to the attempt to reinforce the third basket, long seen as crucially important by many academic observers, yet it has been done in a manner that prompts many question marks and risks bringing new contradictions into the Barcelona Process. In the context formed by increased European concerns about migration issues and by the post-September 11 preoccupation with international terrorism, the simultaneous attempt to introduce a regional JHA programme into the EMP could overshadow, and ultimately thwart, the efforts being made towards civilizational rapprochement in the cultural sphere. The likelihood of this happening will be increased if the balanced approach (between security and cultural initiatives) taken by Spanish officials fails to be maintained by subsequent European Council presidencies.5 Moreover, in the near future, with the EU grappling with its largest enlargement since its foundation, and with most of the newcomers located in the East, it will be difficult for member states to maintain even the existing limited European consensus vis-à-vis the South, let alone integrate the South into the building of a broader consensus surrounding the further development of the Barcelona Process. Thus, realistically it is hard to see the good intentions surrounding the development of ‘co-ownership’ within the institutional structures of the EMP amounting to very much in practice. NOTES The author is grateful for perceptive comments by Oliver Schlumberger on an earlier draft and for conversations with Spanish diplomats, especially Euro-Mediterranean ambassador Eudaldo Mirapeix, who played a central role in preparations for the Valencia Conference of April 2002.


1. While this may be substantially true, the limits to the consensus were reflected in the lack of a common commitment in relation to the search for peace in the Middle East (referred to only in the Presidency Conclusions). 2. Several northern member states argued that the funding for the new Foundation should be found within the existing MEDA budget. 3. ‘Bilateral’ here refers to the EU-15+individual MPC nature of the consultations. Tunisian efforts to co-ordinate the Arab MPCs also featured in this process, but it would be an exaggeration to suggest that it acquired an inter-regional dimension. 4. Amidst much talk of enhanced co-operation in the fields of energy and security, and with Hispano-Moroccan relations extremely troubled, Spain and Algeria proceeded to sign a Friendship Treaty in October 2002 (El País, 8 Oct. 2002). 5. At present the sustainability of EMP policy initiatives suffers from the current arrangements surrounding the EU Council Presidency, which rotates between member states on a six-monthly basis. There are some indications, however, that Spain’s own diplomatic efforts to promote a dialogue between civilizations has persisted beyond its EU presidency on a more global level. In October 2001, Spanish officials welcomed statements by Iranian President, Mohamed Khatami, during a state visit to Spain, in which he suggested that Iran’s ‘democratic Islamism’ could play a role in dialogue between Islam and the West (El País, 31 Oct. 2001). Spain is also among the EU countries that have called for Turkey to be given a target date for entry to the Union.

REFERENCES Adler, E. and B.Crawford (2002): ‘Constructing a Mediterranean Region: A Cultural Approach’, paper presented at a conference on ‘The Convergence of Civilizations’, Convento de Arrábida, Setúbal, June 2002. Attinà, F. (2002): ‘Comparing Security Building in the Mediterranean Area with Security Partnership Building in other Areas’, paper presented at the Conference on ‘The Mediterranean in the New Evolving International Order: Domestic, Regional and International Interests’, forming part of the First World Congress for Middle Eastern Studies, University of Mainz, 11–13 Sept. 2002. Bicchi, F. (2002): ‘From Security to Economy and Back: Euro-Mediterranean Relations in Perspective’, paper presented at a conference on ‘The Convergence of Civilizations’, Convento de Arrábida, Setúbal, June 2002. EMHRN (2002): ‘Euro-Mediterranean meeting in Valencia. The EMHRN requests that human rights are put on top of the agenda’, statement issued 19 April. European Commission (2000): Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament, ‘Reinvigorating the Barcelona Process’, Brussels, 6 Sept., COM(00) 497 final. European Commission (2002): Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament, ‘To Prepare the Meeting of EuroMediterranean Foreign Ministers, Valencia, 22–23 April, 2002’, Brussels, 13 Feb., SEC(2002) 159 final.


European Council (2000): ‘Common Strategy of the European Council of 19 June 2000 on the Mediterranean Region’, 2000/45 8/CFSP, Official Journal of the European Communities, 22 July, L 183/5–10. Generalitat de Catalunya (2001): ‘Institut Català de la Mediterrània, EuroMediterranean Seminar on ‘Ideas to Relaunch the Barcelona Process’, Barcelona, 30 Nov. and 1 Dec., Policy Paper (Recommendations and Proposals for the Spanish Presidency of the EU). Gillespie, R. (2001): Spain and the Western Mediterranean, Economic and Social Research Council, ‘One Europe or Several?’ Programme, working paper 37/01, Brighton: University of Sussex. Gillespie, R. (2002): ‘The Valencia Conference: Reinvigorating the Barcelona Process?’ Mediterranean Politics 7/2. Huysmans, J. (2000): ‘The European Union and the Securitization of Migration’, Journal of Comon Market Studies 38/5. Jünemann, A. (2003): ‘The Forum Civil EuroMed: Critical Watchdog and Intercultural Mediator’, in S.Panebianco (ed.), A New Euro-Mediterranean Cultural Identity, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass (forthcoming). Mira Salama, C. (2002): ‘Madrid and Valencia: Latin America and the Mediterranean in the Spanish Presidency: The Latin American and Mediterranean Agendas Compared’, paper presented at the Conference on ‘The Spanish Presidency of the European Union’, Europe in the World Centre, University of Liverpool, 12 Oct. 2002 (www.liv.ac.uk/ewc). Monar, J. (2001): ‘The Dynamics of Justice and Home Affairs’, Journal of Common Market Studies 39/4. Montobbio, M. (2002): ‘The Spanish Presidency of the Council of the European Union 2002 and the Relaunching of the Barcelona Process’, paper presented at the Conference on ‘The Spanish Presidency of the European Union’, Europe in the World Centre, University of Liverpool, 12 Oct. 2002 (www.liv.ac.uk/ewc) Schumacher, T. (2001): ‘The Mediterranean as a New Foreign Policy Challenge? Sweden and the Barcelona Process’, Mediterranean Politics 6/3. Spanish Presidency (2002a): ‘Proyecto de Intervención del Secretario de Estado de Asuntos Exteriores ante la Comisión de Asuntos Exteriores del Parlamento Europeo sobre las prioridades de la Presidencia en el ámbito de las relaciones euromediterráneas (Bruselas, 24 de Enero 2002)’, España 2002, Presidency website, www.ue2002.es. Spanish Presidency (2002b): Más Europa, Programa de la Presidencia Española de la Unión Europea, 1–1/30–6–2002. Presidency website, www.ue2002.es. Spencer, C. (2001): ‘The Euro-Mediterranean Partnership: Changing Context in 2000’, Mediterranean Politics 6/1. Youngs, R. (2002): ‘The European Union and Democracy Promotion in the Mediterranean: A New or Disingenuous Strategy?’ in R.Gillespie and R.Youngs (eds.), The European Union and Democracy Promotion: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass.

3 Repercussions of the Emerging European Security and Defence Policy on the Civil Character of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership ANNETTE JÜNEMANN One of the most important integration projects being developed by the EU at present is the pursuit of an autonomous European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP). As the world’s largest exporter and second largest importer, the EU can already be defined as a leading international economic power [CAP, 2002:4]. Once achieved, ESDP might result in an equivalent role for the EU in the sphere of foreign, security and defence policy. Although it will presumably take quite a long time before ESDP functions fully, those countries and regions that maintain special relations with the EU, among them the Union’s Mediterranean Partner Countries (MPCs), can already begin to assess the forthcoming changes. European efforts to develop ESDP started shortly after the end of the East-West conflict, when a new era emerged and international relations were no longer determined by the zero sum game of global bloc rivalry. However, it was not until the end of the 1990s that the development of ESDP gained momentum. Having abandoned the paradigm of cold war foreign relations, the EU first of all rediscovered her identity as a ‘civilian power’. A reshuffle of priorities gave room for a comprehensive and predominantly civil foreign policy approach, especially towards Europe’s eastern and southern neighbours. The theoretical concept of a ‘Civil Power of Europe’ had already been developed during a phase of détente in the beginning of the 1970s [Duchêne, 1972], but lost significance when the global conflict intensified in the 1980s. When the cold war was over and Francis Fukuyama announced the ‘end of history’ [Fukuyama: 1993], it seemed for a while as though the world was heading towards more peaceful times. Political discussions focused rather on the use of an expected peace dividend than on security issues. Thus, time seemed to be ripe to reinvigorate the civilian power concept. However, the wars in the Balkans and the emergence of new threats have proved that the world is still far away from civilianization. New potential threats, which no longer come from states and cannot be defined militarily either, are considered to include increasing drug trafficking and organized crime, latent and acute regional conflicts, anti-Western Islamist

EMERGING EUROPEAN SECURITY AND DEFENCE POLICY 37

movements, environmental problems, unchecked population growth in the ‘Third World’, the influx of migrants and, not least, international terrorism. In consequence, security soon re-emerged as a key issue in international relations—though differently defined. The following discussion will take a closer look at the way the EU reacted to the challenges of the post cold war era. It is argued that foreign policy guidelines were first inspired by the—rather idealistic—civilian power concept, but then gradually gave way to a more ‘realistic’ approach. The early phase was characterized by an innovative linkage of the European Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) with foreign trade, EU development policy and the external promotion of democracy and human rights. In parallel, however, the EU pressed ahead with its project of an autonomous ESDP, not least in reaction to Europe’s failure during the Balkan wars. After the British-French summit at St Malo in 1998, when the United Kingdom finally approved the project, ESDP gained a strong momentum of its own: a tendency that has been reinforced by the followup to the terror attacks against the United States on 11 September 2001 and the Iraq war March/April 2003. The Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP), which was initiated in the early 1990s, is an ideal case study to analyse the way in which the EU responded to the fundamental changes within the international system. With the EMP, the EU reacted to destabilizing tendencies in the southern Mediterranean region, which were perceived as a threat to Europe’s own welfare and security interests. The qualitatively new potential threats, no longer triggered by individual nations and escaping military definitions, were identified to have their main common roots in the economic underdevelopment of most MPCs and in the growing prosperity gap between southern and northern states bordering the Mediterranean Sea. To tackle these problems at root, fundamentally new problem-solving strategies had become a necessary requirement. The EMP relies both on close co-operation with MPCs in the areas of politics, economy and culture and on a normative orientation of the entire partnership project towards democracy, the rule of law and respect for human rights. Taken together, the concept of the EMP proved to be progressive in many respects in comparison with earlier approaches to EU Mediterranean policy [Jünemann, 1999]: • The complexity of the approach takes into account interdependencies between economic and political stability problems in the region; • The long-term perspective adopted from the Helsinki Process provides for the creation of a stable framework in which lasting problem-solving strategies can be developed;


• The declared belief in democracy and human rights established a normative point of reference, undermining the principle of noninterference in the domestic affairs of states; and • The attested spirit of partnership aims at a fair balance of interests regardless of the power imbalances existing between southern and northern states bordering on the Mediterranean. Military aspects were deliberately excluded from the EMP agenda. First of all due to a broader definition of security which focuses on political and socio-economic causes of instability rather than on ‘hard’ security issues, and secondly due to the inter-regional frictions, especially in the Middle East, that did not allow the tackling of hard security issues at the time when the EMP was established. Despite various deficits in the process of implementation that should not be played down, the EMP as a concept can be assessed as a positive model of civil foreign relations, corresponding to the specific problems of the Mediterranean region. Against this background two questions arise: What impact will the further development of ESDP have on the civil character of EU foreign relations? And what will be its repercussions on the EMP and its character as a model for civil foreign relations? The following analysis tries to find an answer to these questions. It is structured in four sections. To start with, the theoretical ‘civilian power’ concept will be introduced. Against the background of these theoretical assumptions, the second section scrutinizes whether ESDP is a challenge for the ‘Civil Power of Europe’. Building on that, the third section analyses ESDP’s repercussions on the EMP, and in the last section a few final conclusions will be drawn. The Civilian Power Concept: A Theoretical Model Difficult to Implement The civilian power concept, expounded by François Duchêne in 1972, has inspired many political scientists to further develop it in the context of changing international environments [Kirste and Maull, 1996; Lofthouse and Long, 1996; Hill, 1990; Tewes, 2002]. According to the overall consensus among theorists, the aim of a civilian power is to contribute to the civilianization of the international system. To do so, a civilian power strives for harmonious and constructive relations with other countries, cooperates with international organizations or within international regimes and supports the authority of international law. To assert its national interests, a civilian power voluntarily restricts itself to the use of political and economic means. With its support of democracy, the rule of law and respect for human rights, the civilian power concept not only has a normative connotation, but also similarities with the theory of democratic


peace, according to which democracies do not fight wars against one another [Risse-Kappen, 1993; Müller, 2002]. A crucial disagreement among theorists concerns the legitimacy of humanitarian military interventions. While Lofthouse and Long argue that a civilian power should possess military capacities only for defence purposes, others such as Kirste and Maull argue that humanitarian interventions are legitimate for a civilian power too, provided that military capacities are only used as ultimo ratio in a humanitarian crisis—that is, after all diplomatic and economic means of conflict management have failed to achieve the desired result, and provided that any military action is overarched by a comprehensive civil strategy. According to this definition, ESDP in the framework of the three Petersberg tasks (humanitarian and rescue tasks, peace-keeping and peace enforcement) does not contradict the EU’s civilian character. However, with regard to ‘peace enforcement’, there remains a certain ambiguity, since there is ‘no agreed EU definition of what the upper level of the Petersberg Tasks should be’ [Kemp and Hill, 2001:25]. For a peace enforcement mission in the framework of the civilian power concept, a UN mandate should be imperative; a matter the EU is of course still rather vague on. Pre-emptive military actions, as currently discussed in the context of a NATO Response Force (NRF), are not yet on the ESDP agenda.1 A solidarity clause which was inserted into the ‘Treaty for a Convention for Europe’, guaranteeing mutual support in cases of terror attacks or catastrophes, does not contradict the civilian power concept since this kind of military action belongs in the realm of legitimate defence.2 This contribution is based to a great extent on the definition offered by Kirste and Maull, arguing that the civilian power concept should neither be confused with altruism nor pacifism, nor with a new kind of ‘soft power policy’. Although civilian powers pursue national interests just like every other state, these interests—and the instruments used to achieve them—are different to those emerging from ‘realistic’ assumptions: ‘Civilian Power is about exerting influence. Its objective is the civilianisation of the international environment, which means that…the use of military force is tamed in order to guarantee the rule of law, prosperity and legitimate governance’ [Tewes, 2002:2]. Furthermore, and in contrast with Kirste and Maull, it is argued that the civil power concept should be seen as an ideal model. Since no real state can ever fully meet the (ideal) criteria of a civil power as described above, a close approximation should be recognized as sufficient to qualify a state as a civilian power. Qualifying the EMP as a model for civil foreign relations follows this logic: the positive assessment is based on an evaluation of the EMP’s concept, neglecting the failures that occurred during the implementation process. Following the findings of Tom Dyson, it can be stated that the concept of the EMP was clearly inspired by the


civilian power concept, whereas the implementation process is overshadowed by the national dominance of many EU member states, in line with a more ‘realist’ approach to foreign relations [Dyson, 2002]. Too much European dominance, however, brings the risk that the partnership spirit may be violated, undermining the special quality of the EMP as a prototype of civil foreign relations. This brings us to the more general question of how sustainable the EU’s profile is as a civilian power. Is it part of the EU’s international ‘identity’? Or is it merely a concept that can easily be replaced by some new concept, in the course of adaptation to changing international environments? ESDP: A Challenge to Europe’s Civil Profile? As early as 1973 the foreign ministers of the European Community (EC) agreed upon a ‘Document on a European Identity’ in which the civilian power concept was implicitly adopted as a normative guideline for the Community and its role in the international system.3 Its norms have primarily influenced Europe’s development policy but have also played a role in the ensuing EPC and CFSP respectively.4 Although CFSP has never been perceived as a success story5—due to its many failures in acute conflicts like the Balkan wars—it can not be denied that this policy contributes quite a lot to the civilianization of international relations in the less spectacular daily routine of foreign policy-making: the international system is not constantly being moved onwards by military force alone, so that other kinds of activity are nullified. In fact the broad framework of diplomacy changes comparatively slowly, and it is arguable that the really important structural developments are created by long-term trends… This means that precisely the kinds of attributes possessed by the European Community—the intellectual impact of a new model of interstate relations, the disposition of considerable economic influence over the management of the international economy, the possession of a vast network of contacts and agreements with every region of the international system—are those most capable of influencing the very environment which determines whether or not military strength will be used [Hill, 1990:43]. It is in this context that mention must be made of the EU initiatives (including the EMP) developed after the end of the cold war to support democratic and economic development in the countries bordering the Community to the East and South.6 Furthermore, and to underline the identity of the EU as a community of shared values,7 an article on basic rights was introduced into the Maastricht treaty,8 together with two new


articles declaring support for democracy and human rights to be obligatory aims of CFSP and EU development policy.9 To put these principles into practice, so-called ‘conditionality clauses’ became part of all EU cooperation agreements signed with third countries or regions from 1991, including the MEDA regulation and the association agreements between the EU and individual MPCs. In case of grave violations of human rights or severe deficits in the democratization process, these clauses allow the EU, either partially or fully, to suspend the agreement.10 Taken together one can therefore state that the EU has gradually improved her performance as a civilian power, particularly during the last decade. Does the newly evolving ESDP support this tendency or is it, on the contrary, a challenge to the EU’s civilian profile? The concept of ESDP is rather comprehensive, comprising a military and a civilian dimension, the latter focusing on the building up of new capabilities of conflict management and conflict prevention. With this approach, ESDP is obviously based on the broad definition of security that is typical of the security perception of a civilian power. What is worrying, however, is the growing imbalance between the two dimensions. Although there can be no doubt that the military dimension of ESDP is still in an embryonic state,11 the necessary efforts to overcome its deficits should not be used as an excuse for neglect of the civil dimension. In the first half of 2001, the Swedish Presidency of the EU was very active in promoting the civil dimension of ESDP, in line with its traditional national profile of a civilian power. The European Commission supported this approach and came out with a guiding document on conflict prevention [European Commission, 2001]. In addition to this document, which was very well received by the EP, the parliamentarians developed further proposals to improve EU conflict management in the framework of ESDP’s civil dimension [European Parliament, 2001]. Taken together, these initiatives contributed to the maintenance of a civil profile in the newly evolving ESDP. However, when Belgium took over the EU Presidency in July 2001, this strategy was not continued. What could be observed was an upgrading of ESDP’s military dimension, together with a shift of priorities within its civilian dimension towards Justice and Home Affairs (JHA). Spain, Denmark and Greece, which held the subsequent presidencies, followed suit. Of course, this change of strategies has a lot to do with the terror attacks since September 11. Security has re-emerged on the top of the political agenda and a redefinition of security in traditional terms seems to gradually be replacing the broad definition of security that determined the civil foreign policy approaches of the 1990s. This does not signify a simple return to a purely military doctrine; if it did, there would be less disagreement in Euro-Atlantic relations.


In contrast with the attempt of the United States to fight international terrorism predominantly with military means, the EU has come to the conclusion that following September 11 CFSP and ESDP cannot be limited any longer to just one pillar of the European treaty framework. JHA has become another central topic in the security debate.12 At the same time, however, the former emphasis on economic and political factors of security seems to gradually be losing significance in EU security perceptions. Last but not least, in times of limited resources, it is a question of priorities. Nevertheless, these developments are too embryonic to draw any conclusions concerning the EU’s profile as a civilian power yet. All one can conclude for the time being is that there is a lack of strategic vision. When ESDP was first introduced, it was in the context of humanitarian disasters like the ones experienced in the Balkans. The EU wanted to develop the ability to autonomously prevent or, if conflict prevention failed, to manage similar catastrophes in future. After September 11, ESDP gained an additional dimension that so far has not been translated into a strategic concept. The reason for ESDP’s severe strategic deficits has to do with the insufficient incompatibility of perceptions, interests and security cultures among EU member states. France and the United Kingdom, both front-runners of a strong ESDP especially with regard to its military dimension, are two countries with an identity and security culture that is shaped by their status as former ‘Great Powers’, their membership of the UN Security Council and their possession of nuclear weapons. Both countries possess a rather ‘realistic’ style of foreign policy-making and therefore can hardly be classified as civilian powers. Despite the fact that France opts for an autonomous ESDP and the UK for an ESDP functioning in close co-operation with NATO, both share the vision of a robust and powerful ESDP. This vision, however, only partly matches the perceptions of ESDP held by Sweden and by other neutral EU member states, countries with a national security culture that is much closer to the civilian power concept. The divergence is not over having an ESDP or not, it is rather about: • Priorities between ESDP’s civil and military dimensions. • ESDP’s geographical scope—in and around Europe or world-wide? • ESDP’s tasks—within the Petersberg spectrum or beyond it?13 Among academics and practitioners alike, there is widespread agreement that the lack of a strategic concept is ESDP’s severest deficit. Nevertheless it would be unrealistic to expect a solution to this problem in a short- or medium-term perspective.14 ESDP’s core problem is that it cannot be detached from the open debate on the future of Europe. Against this background the question remains open of whether ESDP challenges the EU’s civil profile. The development of ESDP in itself does


not contradict the civilian power concept, nor does ESDP’s military dimension. As stated above, what counts is not the quantity of military capabilities, but the political intentions military activities are based on. What is problematic, however, is the lack of a strategic concept. It is not at all clear what purposes—what intentions—ESDP is to serve once its buildup is concluded. Provided that the military dimension of ESDP is only used in ultima ratio and not as a standard instrument of problem solving, and provided that military capabilities are not misused to pursue mere power politics, ESDP can be integrated into the civilian power concept. The focus of ESDP would then clearly have to be placed on ESDP’s civil dimension, the potential of which has not been fully developed yet. Equally important to JHA—presently in the focus of political activities in the context of the fight against terrorism—is the development of higher standards in the field of conflict prevention and conflict management [Jünemann and Schörnig, 2002]. However, due to tremendous deficits in both dimensions of ESDP on the one hand, and the already mentioned lack of strategy on the other hand, it is not at all clear in which direction ESDP is heading. What conclusions can be drawn from this for the future of the EMP? The EU’s neighbouring countries have to cope with a situation that they find difficult to assess. So long as the EU itself has not decided in which direction Europe is heading with its newly evolving ESDP, the MPCs will find it difficult to interpret what is going on and to react adequately. The following section will analyse perceptions and reactions in the MPCs in more depth. Repercussions of ESDP on the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership Many experts on conflict and peace research follow the development of ESDP with scepticism. They fear that in neighbouring countries ESDP might provoke a loss of confidence with regard to the EU, thus creating counterproductive effects of insecurity.15 Since experts on the EMP share these concerns, Euromesco, a network of Euro-Mediterranean research institutes on foreign and security policy, conducted a comprehensive empirical research project focusing on all the MPCs, querying representatives from the political elites and various parts of civil society about their perception of ESDP [Euromesco, 2002]. According to this study, Arab political elites received ESDP with surprisingly open minds. Surprisingly, because the introduction of two multilateral European rapid reaction forces in the mid-1990s, Eurofor and Euromarfor, had at that time provoked severe irritation among the MPCs. They rightfully complained that the EU had violated the EMP’s partnership spirit because MPCs appeared neither as partners of a common security architecture nor as citizens who might have to be rescued from natural


disasters, but merely as a potential theatre of operations for evacuating European nationals.16 Against this background, the Euromesco project on ESDP concluded: ‘What is clear is that European fears of a deep and generalised anxiety in the Mediterranean countries over the objectives of the proposed Rapid Reaction Force and of the ESDP in general are exaggerated’ [Euromesco, 2002:17]. Nevertheless, caution is still advisable, owing to four factors: • The reason for the generally positive reaction to ESDP among political elites in Arab MPCs has a lot to do with high—and rather unrealistic— expectations in the context of the Middle East conflict. • Among nationalistic and Islamist sectors of society, ESDP is perceived as a potential Western threat directed against the Arab world. Therefore, they unequivocally reject ESDP as a new element of Western dominance. • The absence of a strategic concept for ESDP leaves room for speculation —a vacuum that could easily be filled by anti-European forces. • Scepticism prevails also among democratic elites within civil society. They fear that Euro-Mediterranean intergovernmental co-operation in the security sphere might lead the EU to downgrade its support for democracy and human rights. In most Arab MPCs, there is little knowledge of what exactly ESDP is about. Among the political elites, hope was expressed that the EU will use its new capabilities to take a more independent stand vis-à-vis the United States, resulting in pro-active support of the Palestinians. What is hoped for on the Arab side, is feared in Israel: although Israel does not attach too much attention to ESDP, doubting the EU’s ability to become a serious international actor in the field of security and defence policy, Israel would clearly reject any EU operation that is perceived to be one-sided. Now, as ever, Israel looks to the United States and Turkey as its major defence partners in the Mediterranean area. Owing to the heterogeneous perceptions of the Middle East conflict among EU member states and to the importance most EU member states attach to their transatlantic relations (in spite of European dissatisfaction with growing US unilateralism), it is rather unlikely that Arab hopes of ESDP in the context of the Middle East conflict will be fulfilled. All one can realistically hope for is that the EU will enhance its political and economic commitment to the Middle East peace process (MEPP). Meanwhile, a joint EU military intervention is unlikely to happen, at least in the near future. Ongoing passivity on the side of the EU might, however, lead to a feeling of severe disappointment among Arab elites, especially if the escalation of the Middle East conflict does not come to a halt (see Asseburg, this collection). Such a development, furthermore, would make it difficult for Arab political elites to justify their positive stand towards ESDP in public


debate. Although there is not much public debate on security issues in most Arab countries due to the authoritarian systems prevailing in the region, it would be a mistake to think that there is no political discourse at all, or that Arab political elites could completely ignore public opinion. If there is a change of mood, they have to react. In the absence of successful EU intervention in the MEPP, nationalist and/or Islamist groups would see their negative perceptions of Europe and the West confirmed. Since most people in Arab countries follow the development of the MEPP carefully, public opinion might then easily be influenced by those opinion leaders who accuse the EU of conducting an anti-Arab policy in complicity with the United States and Israel. This risk should not be underestimated, since public confidence between European countries and MPCs is already generally low. Europeans are not really perceived as ‘friends’ and relations are so fragile that they could easily be disturbed. In this context, it is important to note that not all MPCs have gone along with the fairly positive response given to ESDP. In Algeria, for example, there seems to be a more intense sense of European defence strategies and capabilities as entailing a risk of intervention in the Mediterranean [Euromesco, 2002:15]. It is quite possible that this negative perception may gain ground in other MPCs too, if European postures give rise to a decrease in confidence there. Against this background, the non-existence of a strategic concept which clearly defines aims and objects of ESDP is a real risk for EuroMediterranean relations. It gives room for misgivings concerning the possible intentions of the EU and her member states—a context that antiEuropean forces could exploit. The experience of the mid-1990s, when Eurofor and Euromarfor were introduced, shows how easily distrust can be provoked, with far reaching consequences for bilateral and multilateral relations. Therefore, the most important recommendation that can be addressed to the EU is to promote a better knowledge of European policies among the MPCs, to enhance transparency and to press ahead with NorthSouth co-operation in the field of security policy, including hard security issues [Biscop, 2003]. However, coming back to the initial question concerning the repercussions ESDP will have on the civil character of the EMP, all efforts mentioned above would not be sufficient to guarantee the survival of the normative ‘Barcelona spirit’.17 Well known human rights organizations like Amnesty International and, closer to the area, the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Network, have raised awareness about the negative sideeffects that the international fight against terrorism has had on the cause of human rights protection, both world-wide and especially in the southern Mediterranean [EMHRN, 2001; AI, 2001]. ESDP can not be separated from the fight against terrorism, since there is a strong tendency to expand ESDP’s civil and military tasks to include precisely that. Therefore, the


warnings of these organizations have to be considered in this study on ESDP’s repercussions on the EMP and its normative dimension. Indeed, it cannot be denied that intergovernmental co-operation in the field of security, including hard security issues, might weaken the EU’s political will to pressure MPCs towards political reform. To prove their partnership spirit, the EU and its member states might be tempted to downgrade their support of democracy, the rule of law and respect for human rights.18 All the more, since the MPCs have gained bargaining power vis-à-vis the Europeans since September 11. Regimes in the MPCs know very well how much they are needed in the international alliance against terrorism. Since the new kind of global terror obviously has its roots in Islamist circles, MPCs claim that they were the first to react firmly to an evolving Islamist threat. Against this background it has become very difficult for the EU to protest against the unlawful treatment of Islamists in many MPCs. Another subject that will presumably have to be downgraded in future is the disagreement between the EU and its southern Partners concerning the political role of the military in many southern regimes. In its efforts to support democratization, the EU demands that the military should not dominate the political class, especially if the latter has been installed through free elections. However, since security in most MPCs is the exclusive responsibility of the military, EU representatives will find it more difficult to stress this point if they want to encourage, at the same time, Euro-Med security co-operation. Even the positive attempt to extend the fight against terrorism to other areas than the military field has not only positive repercussions for the EMP. Richard Gillespie describes in his contribution to this collection how the third basket of the EMP, which was originally dedicated to cooperation in social, cultural and human affairs, is gradually being transformed into something like the third pillar of the EU Treaty, dealing predominantly with JHA. The positive attempt to include the wide range of policy and secret service operations in the fight against terrorism is thus being overshadowed by a negative tendency to marginalize the participation of civil society in the EMP. Since the sensitivity of JHA is similar to that of hard security issues, JHA is the subject of largely intergovernmental co-operation. Thus, the EMP’s third basket runs the risk of becoming another domain of predominantly intergovernmental cooperation, at the expense of civil society representation. Last but not least there is a conflict of resources that might affect the EMP also. The acquisition of military capabilities to fulfil the headline goals as defined at Helsinki in 1999 [European Council, 1999] presupposes for most EU member states quite a financial burden. Therefore it is not at all clear whether financial support for the MPCs will be maintained in the future.19 Without sufficient financial support to buffer the hardships of


economic transformation, however, most MPCs will find it extremely difficult to carry on with the economic reform process, necessary to overcome the socio-economic problems that have been identified as one of the main causes of instability in the region. Taking all these reflections into consideration, one comes to the conclusion that—at least with regard to the EMP—the maintenance of a civil profile in EU foreign relations cannot be taken for granted. With an unbalanced focus on security issues—in a rather traditional and narrow sense—the EMP runs the risk of gradually losing its normative dimension and being deprived of the comprehensive and long-term approach that used to be its special characteristic. The EMP could then no longer be called a positive model for civil foreign relations. Conclusions The development of ESDP is a big challenge for the EU, perhaps even a bigger one than the introduction of the monetary union. What makes the task so difficult is not only the enormous backlog in technical terms but— even more—the lack of consensus among EU member states concerning the aims and objects of ESDP. As long as this problem remains, EU member states will not be able to develop a coherent strategy for the evolving ESDP. For the time being, it is not at all clear in which direction ESDP is heading. The lack of strategy makes it difficult for the MPCs to react adequately, and this gives room for speculation and misgivings concerning EU intentions. To prevent a loss of confidence between the two shores of the Mediterranean, it is the EU’s task to convince the MPCs that ESDP should be seen as an additional instrument of Euro-Med security cooperation. Due to the surprisingly positive reception of ESDP among Arab political elites, this should not be too difficult a task, provided that the introduction of ESDP is integrated in a more complex approach to Mediterranean politics: To preserve the confidence of most Arab political elites concerning ESDP, the EU has to take southern security perceptions seriously and to become more active in the MEPP. Should the EU remain passive in the face of a further escalation of this conflict, changing moods in the Arab countries are likely to materialize. However, activity does not mean military activity. Provided that the EU intends to stick to its civil identity, diplomatic and economic instruments will remain the standard means of EU foreign policymaking. What the EU should do is use its international influence to balance the one-sided approach of US Middle East policy. This does not mean, however, to take a one-sided stance against Israel. Without Israel on board, there is no future, either for the MEPP or for the EMP. Furthermore, MPCs will have to be actively included in EU security policy in the Mediterranean. One of the most serious deficits of the EMP, as pointed out again and again by many experts, is the fact that MPCs feel


that they are more an object than a partner in EU security perceptions. To reinvigorate the EMP, especially its paralysed first basket, enhanced transparency is needed, through information, consultation and—last but not least—participation on equal terms. Joint efforts (especially in the framework of ESDP’s civil dimension) could result in new conflict prevention and conflict management strategies, whereas a careful inclusion of ESDP’s military dimension could gradually contribute to confidencebuilding between North and South as well as—in a long-term perspective— among the MPCs. However, there are obvious limits to the prospects of a fully-fledged equality among the EU and the MPCs. Since stability in the Mediterranean is challenged more than anything else by political and economic problems, it is self evident that stability in this region can never be obtained without fundamental political and economic reform. The EU has made her financial support in the framework of the EMP dependent on the willingness of the MPCs to democratize and to develop free market economies. In doing so, the EU has created a dilemma almost impossible to be resolved: on the one hand, the EU offers partnership, based on mutual tolerance and dialogue; on the other hand, it wants to generate economic and political adjustment to European standards. Closer co-operation in the field of security, including JHA, will aggravate this dilemma, since MPCs will insist more than ever before on being treated on equal terms. Nevertheless it is of the utmost importance that the EU sticks to the values and norms laid down in the Barcelona Declaration. Without democracy, the rule of law and full respect for human rights on the one hand and economic development on the other, there is no chance of a sustainable stabilization of the region. A security partnership based on a narrow definition of security and conducted in co-operation with authoritarian regimes alone can only provide repression and stalemate, while the political and socio-economic causes of instability remain untouched, creating fertile ground for the recruitment of terrorists. To achieve sustainable stability in the region, the active involvement of civil society in all three baskets of the EMP is today more important than ever [Jünemann, 2002]. To sum up, this case study on the EMP suggests that it will be in the EU’s own interest to maintain its profile as a civil power. An unbalanced focus on hard security combined with JHA is not an answer to the growing potential threats, nor is the focus on political and military elites alone. Even in the post-September 11 era a comprehensive and long-term strategy has to be maintained, including all three baskets of the EMP, to combat socioeconomic and political shortcomings in the region. This said, it is apparent that the path outlined here is not an easy one to pursue. Quite the contrary, EU Mediterranean politics will become more than ever before a matter of walking a tightrope: on the one hand, the EU


has to move to develop a credible Euro-Mediterranean Partnership spirit in the field of security policy; on the other hand, it should not lower standards concerning the political and economic reform that MPCs already agreed to in 1995. This creates a field of tension which has been part of the EMP since its very beginning. The EU could reduce this tension considerably by showing greater respect for the justified interests of the MPCs. Thus, the EU could—and should—show more sensitivity towards southern security perceptions, especially in the context of the Middle East conflict. Furthermore, it should acknowledge the worries of some MPCs that they might become losers within the projected free trade area.20 However, as long as the MPCs have not transformed their regimes into full democracies, the EU is entitled to use its influence—not to say dominance— to support political reform in the region. To reiterate what Henning Tewes said: ‘Civilian Power is about exerting influence. Its objective is the civilianisation of the international environment…in order to guarantee the rule of law, prosperity and legitimate governance’ [Tewes, 2002:11]. NOTES 1. Although such matters would be definitely incompatible with the civilian power concept, Javier Solana, EU High representative for the CFSP, mentioned pre-emptive EU engagement in his paper ‘A Secure Europe in a Better World’ [Solana, 2003:10]. 2. See ‘Entwurf eines Vertrags über eine Verfassung für Europa’, CONV 850/ 03, Brüssel, 18 July 2003, Art. 42. 3. See ‘Dokument über die europäische Identität’, adopted by the Foreign Ministers of the European Community, 14 Dec. 1973, in Gasteyger [1994: 302–5]. In this document, the fight against underdevelopment and the pursuit of harmonious and constructive relations with all Third Countries are described as major tasks of the EC. 4. It was in the framework of ‘European Political Co-operation’ (EPC) that the EC undertook its first attempts to harmonize European foreign policy. ECP was replaced by CFSP in 1993. 5. On the deficits of CFSP, see Regelsberger et al. [1997:1–15]. 6. The corresponding financial instruments are PHARE for the central and eastern European countries, MEDA for the MPCs in the framework of the EMP, and TACIS for the Community of Independent States. The EU’s contribution to the stability pact in the Balkans should also be mentioned in this context. 7. For the development of the EU as a community of shared values, especially with regard to EU foreign relations, see Jünemann [2003, forthcoming]. 8. See Art. F paragraph 2 EUT (Maastricht); Art. 6 EUT (Nice). 9. For CFSP see Art. J.1 paragraph 2 EUT (Maastricht); Art. 11 (2) EUT (Nice). For EU-development policy see Art. 130u paragraph 2 ECT (Maastricht); Art. 177 (2) ECT (Nice).


10. For the political dimension of the EMP, see Jünemann [1998:S. 89–118]. 11. With regard to the EU’s military capabilities, there is a threefold deficit: capabilities are lacking in numbers, they are not appropriate for the new tasks and they do not complement each other. Therefore, most experts believe that the EU will need about ten to 15 years to develop a fully functioning ESDP, corresponding to the headline goals as defined at the Helsinki summit in 1999. ‘There is need for stronger efforts concerning military forces, e.g. protection of forces deployed, commitment capabilities and logistics, and concerning strategic capabilities, e.g. command, control, communications and intelligence resources’ CAP [2002:35]. 12. See Conclusions adopted by the Council (Justice and Home Affairs), Brussels, 20 Sept. 2001, SN 3926/6/01, REV 6; Report from the Commission; Conclusion and Plan of Action of the Extraordinary European Council Meeting on 21 Sept. 2001, SN 140/1, gra/MM/ptm. For a comprehensive analysis, see Monar [2002]. 13. According to the current discussion, ESDP shall be limited to a geographical area of 4,000km around Brussels. Discussions on the future of ESDP, however, go beyond this temporary agreement. Since the geographical restriction did not follow political but rather technical considerations, bearing in mind ESDP’s limited capabilities for the time being, ideas to include Africa within ESDP’s geographical scope are not out of question. And with regard to the Petersberg tasks, Germany and France had agreed at their bilateral summit in Nantes in November 2001 to include the fight against terrorism among ESDP’s responsibilities. See ‘Erklärung des Deutschfranzösischen Verteidigungs- und Sicherheitsrates’, Nantes, 23 Nov. 2001, in http://www.bundesregierung.de/dokumente/Artikel/ix_63567.htm (1 April 2002). See also Solana [2003]. 14. See the results of the Gugelhof-Group’s meeting on 22 July 2002. The Gugelhof Group is a loose network of German experts on ESDP, organized by Reinhardt Rummel of the Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik in Berlin. The meeting took place at the Centre for Applied Policy Research in Munich. 15. This was the result of a lively debate during a symposium organized by the Evangelische Akademie Iserlohn in co-operation with the German Association of Peace and Conflict Research, ‘Macht Europa Frieden?’ Iserlohn, 22–24 Feb. 2002. 16. See ‘Communiqué commun annonçant la signature de l’EUROFORCE opérationelle rapide (EUROFOR) et de la Force maritime européenne (EUROMARFOR) (Paris, 15 mai 1995)’, Documents d’Actualité Internationale 13, ler juillet 1995, p.407. 17. The ‘spirit of Barcelona’ refers to the idea of creating an equal partnership, but also to the democratic values that were adopted in the Barcelona Declaration when the EMP was founded in 1995 [Jünemann, 2002:62]. 18. Roberto Aliboni [2000:13] suggests that trade-offs with MPCs could be made in the field of human rights too. Although Aliboni is absolutely right that European dominance within the EMP has to be revised, human rights have to be kept out of any trade-off with authoritarian MPCs. 19. The budget for MEDA I (1995–99) consisted of aid worth €4.7 billion, plus €2.3 billion in loans from the European Investment Bank over a period of


three years. The MEDA II period (2000–6) has a budget of €5.4 billion, excluding loans from the Investment Bank. See Stephan Stetter in this collection. 20. So long as the EU sticks to its protectionist agricultural policy, the projected Euro-Mediterranean Free Trade Area (FTA) has little attraction for those MPCs who rely on the export of agricultural products. Furthermore it is well known that structural adjustment—a precondition for the FTA—has negative side-effects on the labour market, thus increasing the already worrying socioeconomic problems of many of the MPCs. See Béchir Chourou’s contribution in this collection.

REFERENCES Aliboni, R. (2000): Building Blocks for the Euro-Mediterranean Charter on Peace and Stability, Euromesco Paper 7, Jan. Amnesty International (2001): Caught in the Backlash: Human Rights Under Threat Worldwide in Aftermath of September 11 Attacks, AI Index ACT 30/028/ 2001—News Service Nr. 174. Biscop, S. (2003): Euro-Mediterranean Security: In Search of Partnership, Hampshire: Ashgate (forthcoming). CAP (2002): Reassessing EU Foreign Policy Challenges and Tasks in the Post September 11 Era, Munich: Centre for Applied Policy Research, working paper. Duchêne, F. (1972): ‘Europe’s Role in World Peace’, in R.Mayne (ed.), Europe Tomorrow: Sixteen Europeans Look Ahead, London and Basingstoke: Fontana Collins. Dyson, T. (2002): ‘Civilian Power and “History-Making” Decisions: German Agenda-Setting on Europe’, European Security 11/1, pp.27–48. ‘Entwurf eines Vertrags über eine Verfassung für Europa’, CONV 850/03, Brüssel, 18 July 2003, Art. 42. EMHRN (2001): ‘Human Rights Attacked’, press release of the Executive Committee of the Euro Mediterranean Human Rights Network, Copenhagen 8 Oct., www.euromedrights.net/ english/emhm-documents/pressreleases/08_l 0_2001.htm (July 2002). Euromesco (2002): European Defence—Perceptions vs. Realities, Working Group III, First Year Report, Paper 16. European Commission (2001): ‘Communication from the Commission on Conflict Prevention’, COM(2001)211 final, Brussels, 11 April. European Council (1999): Schlussfolgerungen des Vorsitzes, Kapitel II. Gemeinsame Europäische Sicherheits- und Verteidigungspolitik, Absatz 28, http://presidency.finnland.fi (2 March 2000). European Parliament (2001): ‘Entschließung des Europäischen Parlaments zu der Mitteilung der Kommission zur Konfliktprävention’, KOM(2001)211, vorläufige Ausgabe vom 13.12.2001. Fukuyama, F. (1993): Das Ende der Geschichte: Wo stehen wir? Munich: Kindler Verlag. Gasteyger, C. (1994): Europa zwischen Spaltung und Einigung 1945–1993, Bonn: Schriftenreihe der Bundeszentrale für Politische Bildung, Bd. 321, pp.302–5.


Hill, C. (1990): ‘European Foreign Policy: Power Bloc, Civilian Model—or Flop?’ in R.Rummel (ed.), The Evolution of an International Actor: Western Europe’s New Assertiveness, Boulder, CO and Oxford: Westview. Jünemann, A. (1998): ‘Democratisation—Reflections on the Political Dimension of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in P.G.Xuereb (ed.), The Mediterranean’s European Challenge, Valetta: European Documentation and Research Centre, University of Malta. Jünemann, A. (1999): ‘Europas Mittelmeerpolitik im regionalen und globalen Wandel: Interessen und Zielkonflikte’, in W.Zippel (ed.), Die Mittelmeerpolitik der EU, Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlag. Jünemann, A. (2002): ‘From the Bottom to the Top: Civil Society and Transnational Non-Governmental Organizations in the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in R.Gillespie and R. Youngs (eds.), The EU and the Promotion of Democracy: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Jünemann, A. and N.Schörnig (2002): ‘Die Sicherheits- und Verteidigungspolitik der “Zivilmacht Europa”: Ein Widerspruch in sich?’ HSFK-Report 12/2002, Frankfurt: Peace Research Institute Frankfurt. Jünemann, A. (2003): ‘Die Demokratie und Menschenrechtspolitik der Europäischen Union: Zwischen normativem Anspruch und interessengeleiteter Umsetzung’, in G.Thiemeyer and H.Ullrich (eds.), Perspektiven der Demokratie in Europa, Frankfurt a.M: Peter Lang Verlag (forthcoming). Kemp, I. and L.Hill (2001): ‘Europe on Standbye’, Jane’s Defence Weekly, 12 Dec., pp.24–7. Kirste, K. and H.Maull (1996): ‘Zivilmacht und Rollentheorie’, Zeitschrift für Internationale Beziehungen 3/2, pp.283–312. Lofthouse, A. and D.Long (1996): ‘The European Union and the Civilian Model of Foreign Policy’, Journal of European Integration 19/2–3, pp.181–96. Monar, J. (2002): ‘Die EU als Raum der Freiheit, der Sicherheit und des Rechts und die Herausforderung des internationalen Terrorismus’, Integration 25/3, pp.171–86. Müller, H. (2002): ‘Antinomien des demokratischen Friedens’, Politische Vierteljahresschrift 1, pp.46–81. Regelsberger, E., P.de Schoutheete and W.Wessels (1997): ‘From EPC to CFSP: Does Maastricht Push the EU toward a Role as a Global Power?’ in Regelsberger et al. (eds.) [1997]. Regelsberger, E., P.de Schoutheete and W.Wessels (eds.) (1997): Foreign Policy of the European Union: From EPC to CFSP and Beyond, London: Lynne Rienner. Risse-Kappen, T. (1993): ‘Demokratischer Friede? Unfriedliche Demokratien? Überlegungen zu einem theoretischen Puzzle’, in G.Krell and H.Müller (eds.), Frieden und Konflikt in den Internationalen Beziehungen. Festschrift für ErnstOtto Czempiel, Frankfurt a.M.: Campus Verlag. Solana, J. (2003): ‘A Secure Europe in a Better World’, European Council, Thessalonika, 20 June. Tewes, H. (2002): Germany, Civilian Power and the New Europe: Enlarging Nato and the European Union, Chippenham: Palgrave.

4 Gender and Security in the Mediterranean CILJA HARDERS

‘Hard’ security issues are at the centre of most policies within and between states and they figure highly in international relations (IR) debates. Usually, scholars and politicians draw a sharp line between hard security issues, that is, those concerning the military, weaponry and strategy and socalled ‘soft’ security matters such as humanitarian aid, development, diplomacy and social questions [King and Murray, 2001; Tickner, 1992; Peterson, 1992; Enloe, 1990]. Interestingly, EMP policies seem to address both hard and soft issues, thus pursuing a broad understanding of security. Official security concepts of the EMP display two contradictory tendencies: (1) The EMP framework is adopting a broad approach towards security acknowledging ‘that financial, economic, cultural, and security issues cannot effectively be tackled separately’ [EU, 2000:7]. Thus, questions of justice, human rights, sustainable development and genderdemocratic relations between men and women can be addressed as security issues. This comes close to feminist concepts of security [Enloe, 2000; Peterson and Runyan, 1999; Tickner, 1992; Peterson, 1992; Enloe, 1990] and to the debate about human security [Ogata, 2002; Sen, 2000; UNDP, 1994]. The Barcelona Declaration itself does not explicitly mention gender issues: it refers to ‘sex’ once in the context of non-discrimination. As a result, the gender-sensitive potential of the declaration’s security concept has remained unused until now. (2) In an evaluation of the activities in the political and security partnership programme, the authors state that until now only soft measures have been taken. Hard security measures such as ‘information on military capabilities, de-mining, joint peace-keeping, mutual monitoring of military exercises and verification missions’ should be considered after a breakthrough in the Middle East peace process [EU, 2000:18]. Thus, even though the EU adopts a comprehensive view on security, at the same time it maintains a realist differentiation between soft and hard security issues. Soft issues seem to be the second choice. They should be pursued until ‘real’ security

54 GENDER AND SECURITY IN THE MEDITERRANEAN

questions can be tackled in a way that is intimately related to military policies. These tendencies have been strengthened since the September 11 attacks [Young and Hegelich, 2001]. A strong reorientation towards militaristic policies and direct military intervention endangers the pursuit of common security goals that stress individual security, co-operation and conflict prevention rather than unilateralist national security strategies. Processes of militarization often weaken human and civil rights and they endanger gender-democratic relationships between women and men to the detriment of human security [Enloe, 2000; EMHRN, 2001; AI, 2001; Peterson and Runyan, 1999:113ff.; Jünemann, this collection]. I therefore argue from a feminist perspective that EU policies that stress soft security issues offer more sustainable and at the same time realistic ways of establishing an ‘area of peace and stability in the Mediterranean’ than those that stress hard security issues. In what follows, I shall first explore different security concepts focusing on those feminist and developmental debates that substantially broadened our understanding of security as a basic human need. I will then proceed to develop the feminist argument in more detail. In considering domestic security threats such as sexualized violence against women and children,1 feminists have come to the conclusion that a state- and institution-centred perspective on security ignores gender-specific security threats. In merging feminist concepts with the human security approach, I refer to crosscountry data concerning the gendered human security situation in EMP countries. I argue that it is important to address the huge gaps in gendered human security in order to strengthen the civil dimension of the EMP. These efforts can be severely hindered by strengthened militaristic logics of action on national and international policies. Such aspects are discussed in the last section of the study where I explore the effects of increasing female participation in formerly male institutions, such as the military. Gender and Security Security is usually understood as the absence of danger and threats. In realist thinking, security entails a state’s capability to maintain territorial integrity by military means [Ogata, 2002:1; Dettke, 2002; King and Murray, 2001:588; Tickner, 1992; Peterson, 1992], Feminist scholars criticize the fact that in international relations ‘the discipline’s focus on direct violence has been at the expense of attending to structural violence and the insecurities generated by structural inequalities’ [Peterson and Runyan, 1999:115]. Consequently, this rather narrow perspective has been challenged by both development studies and feminist studies [Sen, 2000; UNDP, 1994; Tickner, 1992; Enloe, 1990]. Since 1994, the United Nations

EURO-MEDITERRANEAN RELATIONS AFTER SEPTEMBER 11 55

Development Programme (UNDP) has fostered the broad concept of ‘human security’. It addresses the multi-layered challenges that societies in the South and in the North face in the age of globalization. At the end of the cold war, many experts expected that a more co-operative new world order would soon emerge. Instead, environmental degradation, natural disasters, increases in violent conflicts and poverty have led to a substantial questioning of mainstream concepts [Ogata, 2002:2]. Human security has become both a new measure of global security and a new agenda for global action. Safety is the hallmark of freedom from fear, while well-being is the target of freedom from want. Human security and human development are thus two sides of the same coin, mutually reinforcing and leading to a conducive environment for each other [Human Security Network, 1999:1]. Human security is a people-centred vision of security. It stresses common security rather than national security and the individual level instead of the institutional level. Human security is thus broadly defined as ‘freedom from fear and want’ [UNDP, 1994:28f.].2 Human security is universal. Its components are interdependent and it is best ensured by prevention [Ogata, 2002; King and Murray, 2001:589; Young, 2001; Sen, 2000]. The concept is gender sensitive and takes up many issues that have been brought onto the agenda through the international women’s movement [Ruppert, 1998; Wichterich, 2000]. A feminist perspective on security entails a critique of a state-centred understanding of international matters. By taking up seemingly ‘private’ issues, feminists explore the individual and collective consequences of gendered insecurity. Domestic violence and sexualized violence against women are the main starting points for this endeavour. As Cynthia Enloe, one of the most original scholars of feminist IR, once put it: ‘The private is international’ [Enloe, 1990:195]. Feminist methodology connects the microlevel of individual actions and perceptions with the meso-level of national institutional arrangements, as well as the macro-level of the international system. Hence, feminists were among the first who contributed evidence for the hypothesis that ‘even successful examples of territorial security do not necessarily ensure the security of citizens within a state’ [King and Murray, 2001:588]. Transnational security threats such as global environmental disasters, growing poverty, terrorism, violence against women and violent state dissolution inevitably touch upon EMP policies, too. They need to be addressed in a comprehensive way if a sustainable security partnership between EU countries and MPCs is to be reached.


Gendered Security Threats: Taking Domestic and International Disorder Seriously In his first report on women, peace and security, issued in October 2002, the UN secretary-general stated: ‘Women do not enjoy equal status with men in any society’ [UN, 2002:1]. Gender matters as being a man or a woman globally marks a difference in access to resources and rights. Thus, a comprehensive view on EMP security questions entails taking gender into consideration too. Gender as an analytical category describes those social processes that shape the attributes of ‘maleness’ and ‘femaleness’ of human beings. ‘Gender refers to the social, cultural, and psychological constructions that are imposed upon the biological differences of sex’ [Nanda, 2000:2]. A person’s gender is not a natural consequence of his or her sex. Instead, people constantly ‘do’ gender. ‘Doing gender’ includes the conscious and unconscious, direct and indirect processes of the individual and collective social production of gender [Lorber, 1999; Peterson and Runyan, 1999]. Very often these processes of ascribing gendered meanings to bodies, behaviours and experiences tend to be naturalized. This renders invisible the multi-layered and constant individual and collective efforts that are needed to produce properly gendered ‘women’ and ‘men’ [Sylvester, 2002]. IR scholar Christine Sylvester states: ‘Masculinity and femininity are political acts of classification and enforcement that impose meanings on bodies without seeming to do so’ [Sylvester, 2002].3 As both women and men are constantly engaged in ‘doing gender’, gender relations can be described as social power relations. They lead to culturally, historically, politically, economically and socially specific gender orders and gender regimes [Gildemeister, 2001; Nanda, 2000; Enloe, 1983; Connell, 1999].4 These gendered systems regulate access to, or exclusion from, material and non-material resources. ‘Hegemonic masculinities’ [Connell, 1999; 2002] and—I would add—‘hegemonic femininities’ represent mainstream role-models for both genders.5 Even though different ideas and practices of ‘maleness’ and ‘femaleness’ evolve within diverse contexts, all existing gender orders turn out to be severely unbalanced to the detriment of women [UN, 2002:1].6 Consequently, security issues too are shaped and influenced by these unequal gender relations. This leads to gendered types of insecurity which have to be addressed in order to reach sustainable security. The UN report affirms: Women and children are disproportionately targeted in contemporary armed conflicts and constitute a majority of all victims.7 Women and children also constitute the majority of the world’s refugees and internally displaced persons… During conflict, women and girls are vulnerable to all forms of violence, in particular sexual violence and exploitation, including torture, rape, mass rape, forced


pregnancy, sexual slavery, enforced prostitution and trafficking [UN, 2002:1]. Gendered security threats to women and girls are obvious in cases of war, conflict, violent crisis and humanitarian catastrophes. Feminists argue that these insecurities are related to other gendered insecurities that prevail world-wide in situations of peace [UN, 2002:1; Enloe, 2000; Pettmann, 1996; Enloe, 1993; Cooke and Wollacott, 1993; Tickner, 1992; Petersen, 1992].8 ‘Feminist perspectives on security would assume that violence, whether it be in the international, national, or family realm, is interconnected’ [Tickner, 1992:53]. Widespread and continuous domestic violence against women renders a nation state an insecure place if it does not interfere with such gendered human rights abuses because of their assumed ‘private’ nature [Zwingel, 2002:177; WHO, 1997a; 2000].9 IR scholar J.Ann Tickner argues that ‘Family violence must be seen in the context of wider power relations’ [Tickner, 1992:58]. The ‘rule of right’ in the modern nation state is thus a rather partial one. Instead, the ‘rule of might’, which realist IR scholars attribute to the ‘anarchic’ international sphere, stretches out to the private homes of citizens [Tickner, 1992:58; Mordt, 2001:104]. This type of gendered insecurity is an international cross-class and cross-cultural phenomenon. It is accelerated in times of war and strong militarization of societies [Cockburn and Zarkov 2002; Zwingel, 2002; Brandewiede, 2000]. It has increased since the end of the cold war. Ethnic strife, warlordism, state dissolution and civil wars accounted for much of the armed violence in the 1990s. Instead of armed conflicts between two or more nation states, we have witnessed ‘new wars’ [Kaldor, 2000; and, for a critique of this perception, Schmidt, 2002]. These blur the line between soldiers and civilians and produce new types of gendered insecurities [Braig, 2000]. Armies providing for national security can become a serious threat to women’s personal security, too. Mass rape, forced prostitution and other types of sexualized exploitation dramatically increase in times of violent conflict and war [UN, 2002; Enloe, 2000].10 Consequently, Tickner argues that ‘any feminist definition of security must include the elimination of all types of violence, including violence produced by gender relations of domination and subordination’ [Tickner, 1992:58]. Combining this broad concept with the idea of human security allows us to consider all types of inequality as important indicators of a region or a state’s people security. A gendered human security perspective looks at ‘hard’ national security as provided for by national armies and at ‘soft’ personal security. It merges a personal and a structural approach taking poverty, illiteracy and political exclusion as well as all types of sexualized violence into account.


Gendered Human Security in the EMP Seen from a gendered human security perspective, building an area of ‘peace and stability’ in the Mediterranean must thus imply a strengthening of those policies that tackle security issues in the broadest sense. For example, huge income disparities and huge differences in women’s status are threats to human security and should be addressed accordingly. Using established UNDP indices as cross-country indicators of the gendered human security situation enables us to see some of the structural insecurities within the EMR.11 The Human Development Index (HDI) describes the general human security conditions. It combines life expectancy at birth, adult literacy rate, enrolment ratio and estimated earned per capita income as indicators of high or low human development. The Gender Development Index (GDI) weighs the HDI in a gender-specific way. Both, HDI and GDI index figures are ranked by country. The Gender Empowerment Measure (GEM) can be used as an indicator of gendered human security. GEM measures gender inequality in three basic dimensions: economic participation and decisionmaking, political participation and decision-making power over economic resources [UNDP, 2002]. GEM counts economic participation and decision-making by using the number of female professional and technical workers. It measures political participation by counting seats in parliament held by women, the number of female legislators, senior officials and managers. Finally, it measures economic decision-making power as the ratio of estimated female to male earned income. Table 1 shows the respective HDI, GDI and GEM rankings in a comparative perspective. In addition, it puts the EU member states and MPCs in an international context [UNDP, 2002:222–9]. Comparing the EMP countries, huge differences in HDI and GDI indicators reveal a severely unbalanced human security situation. The difference in HDI between Sweden, Belgium and the Netherlands (2–8) and Morocco, Egypt and Syria (108–123) is immense. Aside from these extremes, similarities exist as well: for example, Israel, Cyprus and Malta have HDI indicators better than, or close to, Portugal, Italy and Greece. The same pattern emerges for the gender-weighted GDI with its extremes between Belgium (2) and Morocco (102) and mid-range countries like Italy (20), Israel (22), Greece (25), Cyprus (26), Portugal (28) and Malta (30). Unfortunately, the GEM figures are rather partial due to the lack of data, but we can assume that more or less the same pattern would evolve. Sweden, Denmark and Finland score high in GEM, whereas Portugal (20), Italy (31) and Greece (41) on the European side and Israel (22) and Cyprus (34) on the Mediterranean side represent the middle range. The third group comprises countries like Egypt (65) or Turkey (63). Taking into account the single indicator of women’s representation in national parliaments, a similar


TABLE 1 GENDER-SENSITIVE DEVELOPMENT INDICATORS OF EMP COUNTRIES

Note: Some countries do not provide the necessary gender-specific data and this leads to gaps in gender-sensitive measurement of the main indicators of human security [UNDP, 2002: 222–9]. Part.%=female political participation as indicated through percentage of female MPs. Source: UNDP [2002:149ff.].

pattern emerges. Northern European countries have the highest representation quotas (Sweden 42.7 per cent). Middle ranges lie between 13.3 per cent and 8.7 per cent (Israel, France, Cyprus, Malta, Italy, Portugal) and low representation is found in Morocco (0.5 per cent) and Algeria (four per cent). Poor political, economic and social representation of women is an important indicator of their security situation. Huge differences in GEM and in other indicators of well-being and development will have repercussions on other areas of co-operation and development. Seen from a gender-sensitive perspective, the development of a security partnership would firstly entail supporting all measures that allow countries with a high GDI ranking to enhance their population’s, and especially their women’s, situation. Even though gender orders are culturally and historically specific, they still produce structurally similar types of discrimination. Such inequalities produce severe insecurities for women and men: ‘these gendered divisions are not only harmful to women because they produce and reproduce the power imbalance of gender inequality but are also harmful to all of us because they contribute to global crises’ [Peterson and Runyan, 1999:115]. These contexts have to be taken into consideration if the objective of the Barcelona Process is to be comprehensively reached.


Gender, Security and the Military Strengthening the civil and social dimensions of the EMP can be severely hindered by strengthened militaristic logics of action in national and international policies. The social and political legitimacy of militaristic perceptions of national security policies, security cultures and security perceptions often works to the detriment of a broad and civil perspective on security. From a feminist perspective, this is true for both EU member states and MPCs, even though the degree of military influence on policymaking varies widely. Taking the differing but lastingly low integration of women into the armed forces as an example, I will argue that militarized gender orders are structurally similar. The armed forces are an important institutional producer of a specific type of militarized masculinity, which often hinders more co-operative and inclusive approaches to security. These gendered ideas about the importance and predominance of militarized male- and femaleness are deeply influencing security cultures and thus political strategies within the EMP [Attinà and Guichang, 2001]. In relation to the case of Israel, Uta Klein states: ‘The dominance of security and of the military discourse leads to gender inequality in society at large’ [Klein, 200 la: 203]. At the same time the armed forces are challenged by gendered modernization processes. Will these processes change militarized security cultures towards a more comprehensive security approach? As for the MPCs, Kamrava argues that ‘few if any of the contemporary states of the Middle East have been able to fully overcome their military past, with the armed forces continuing to be politically powerful’ [Kamrava, 2000:68]. In EU countries, too, the armed forces and weaponry are at the core of both ‘hard’ security perceptions and actions. Especially after the attacks of September 11, such tendencies have been increasingly regaining legitimacy to the detriment of civil and co-operative policies in both EU member states and MPCs. ‘The traditional militarized gender system is rightly identified as generating a form of masculinity, hegemonic in all too many societies, that is deeply oppressive of women and also of many men’ [Cockburn and Zarkov, 2002:13]. The ‘sexual division of violence’, as Cynthia Cockburn calls it, ascribes dichotomized and complementary roles to ‘men’ and ‘women’ [Cockburn, 2001], Both genders carry a civilian and a militarized identity, intimately linked to their access to political and social rights. Structurally, two complementary gender constructions are central for the development of militarized security cultures. The idea of the citizen-soldier links maleness to the capability and willingness to fight and die for one’s nation. This willingness was historically rewarded by full citizen rights. These rights are in turn denied to those ‘beautiful souls’ of the ‘weaker sex’ that need to be protected, as well as to other men because of class and ethnicity.12


The complementary militarized female identity is that of the ‘Spartan mother’ [Elshtain, 1995]. Women have fought as warriors, have supported their warring men or have been otherwise actively involved in violent acts, as for example the female ‘cheerleaders of genocide’ in Rwanda [Zdunnek, 2002] or the female war criminals of Nazi Germany [Kretzer, 2002], Women’s involvement in war and violence has often been perceived in terms of deviance and abnormity [Kretzer, 2002; Peterson and Runyan, 1999]. The predominant gender stereotypes stress the idea that women are essentially peaceful whereas men are biologically prone to violence. But there is nothing ‘natural’ about militarized maleness and femaleness as Enloe rightly stresses [Enloe, 2000].13 Taken to their extremes, constructions of maleness and femaleness that stress complementary, essential and strictly different gender roles prevail in nationalist, Christian fundamentalist and Islamist ideologies [Moghaddam, 1994; Cockburn and Zarkov, 2002]. These gendered constructions of militarized ‘maleness’ and ‘femaleness’ legitimize existing gendered mechanisms of exclusion, discrimination, suppression and militarized insecurity. All EU countries have admitted women to their armed forces. With more and more women entering the armed forces, traditional notions of ‘maleness’ and ‘femaleness’ are being challenged. In addition, the military itself is confronted with new tasks such as peace-keeping and supporting nation-building after devastating civil wars. Modernization and democratization of the military come with new gender regimes within the formerly male-only institutions [Cockburn and Zarkov, 2002; Cohen, 2000; Van Crefeld, 2000; DeGroot, 2002]. Is the inclusion of women in national armies and international peace-keeping forces changing both male role-models? Does it change practices of reproducing insecurity through fostering ideas of aggressive and violent ‘maleness’? Research on the integration of women into armies indicates that the armed forces react with deep resistance towards these gendered modernization processes. Their resistance results in a lastingly low representation of women in the armies concerned, in constant cases of sexual harassment and other forms of gender discrimination [Eifler, 2002; Eifler and Seifert, 1999; Carreiras, 2002]. Consequently, European and Mediterranean armies include women at low levels ranging between eight per cent in France and 0.1 per cent in Turkey. In the first comprehensive study on women’s participation in NATO forces, Carreiras finds ‘such variation [in the integration of women], ranging from an almost total absence, rank limitation, segregated training and severe functional restrictions, to relatively open career patterns, full integrated training and access to combat roles’ [Carreiras, 2002:1ff.]. Eifler in her study of the integration of women into the US, Russian and German armies shows that by allowing women in, processes of doing gender within the institution become more intense and contradictory [Eifler, 2002; Sion, 2001]. Women


TABLE 2 THE PARTICIPATION OF WOMEN IN THE ARMED FORCES OF EMP COUNTRIES (2001)

Notes: * Forty per cent women as conscripts, 40 per cent as regular professional soldiers [Klein 2001b: 150]. Data on women’s participation in Middle Eastern armies are extremely scattered and difficult to obtain. Historically, the participation of women in national liberation movements attracted some interest [Moghadam, 1994] although no systematic numerical accounts of female participation appeared. For contemporary Middle Eastern countries, the only country that has been studied to a greater extent is Israel (Klein, 200 la; Klein 2001b; Cohen, 2000; Yuval-Davis, 1999], followed by Libya [Graeff-Wassink, 1990] and Egypt [Ahmad, 1989]. Information is available on the United Arab Emirates [Mookerji, 1998] and on Turkey [NATO, 2001]. Sources: IISS [2001]; NATO [2001]; ZEITPunkte [2000:35]; Nielsen [2001].

are often found in marginal or marginalized positions within the supply and support forces. Most combat and elite units remain closed to them [NATO, 2001; Nielsen, 2001; Peterson and Runyan, 1999:117, 120–24; Yuval-Davis, 1999]. Because of their small numbers, they are treated as tokens. Still, the integration of women challenges the notion of war and combat as a purely male activity. Female integration into MPC armies is also very partial and can be linked to the type of civil-military relations that prevail in the region. Kamrava distinguishes four main types:14 (1) ‘Military Democracies’, in which the public sphere is dominated by politicians but the military is still highly influential (Turkey, Israel);


(2) ‘Inclusionary states’, in which the regular military’s aspirations are kept in check and are neutralized by a highly ideological, largely voluntary militia (Iran, Iraq, Libya); (3) ‘Exclusionary states’, in which former officers have become ‘non ideological, civilian autocrats’ (Algeria, Egypt, Syria, Sudan, Tunisia, Yemen); and (4) Monarchies, which rely either on foreign military manpower (Bahrain, Oman, Qatar, UAE) or on loyal tribal forces (Jordan, Kuwait, Morocco, Saudi Arabia) [Kamrava, 2000:68]. Even though the military democracies, like Israel and Turkey, include women in their armies as symbols of modernity, they do so on an uneven footing [NATO, 2001; Klein, 2001a; Yuval-Davis, 1999:24]. In Turkey, the percentage of women is as low as 0.1 per cent [NATO, 2001]. Israel is an interesting case because even though women are conscripted, they are not integrated on an equal basis,15 as Uta Klein in her important study on gender and the military in Israel argues: The centrality of the military and of security in society leads to a marginalization of women on a symbolic level (because they are not regarded as capable of defending the country and taking part in security discourse) and on a practical level: Jewish Israeli men gain from their military service for their professional careers (networking) and by achieving material and symbolic benefits [Klein, 2001a:206]. Inclusionary states sometimes allow women into their militias for reasons of broad civilian mobilization, as the example of Libya shows [GraeffWassink, 1990]. Since 1978 women have been allowed to enter the people’s army. In 1979 a Women’s Military Academy was founded. The Academy educates between 170 and 410 rank and file and some 8.210 officers a year [Graeff-Wassink, 1990:79].16 Exclusionary states do not accept women at all except Tunisia, as far as data is available [IISS, 2001]. The same is true for the monarchies where, in the framework of conservative gender regimes, women are taken as symbols of national culture and traditions [Moghadam, 1994]. Still, in Jordan and Morocco there are women in the military. Jordan set up a women’s corps with King Hussein’s daughter Princess Aisha at its head [van Crefeld, 2000:141; Jordan Embassy, 2002].17 Even though the degree of women’s integration in national armies varies greatly between EU and MPC countries, the structural problems and barriers tend to be very much the same. Within the EMP framework, Annette Jünemann characterizes the EU as a ‘civilian power’ in contrast to other more militaristic perceptions. Seen from a gender perspective though, similarities in militarized security cultures and concepts can be discovered.


The deep resistance to the integration of women into the military is a sign of lasting militaristic perceptions that often prevent the development of sustainable security policies, as Uta Klein for example showed in the case of Israel: ‘In spite of the participation of women in the military, the Israeli experience shows that ideologies of manhood and the dominant position of the military in society are deeply intertwined’ [Klein, 2001a:206]. In male dominated organizations women must cope simultaneously with symbols and behaviours, which perpetuate and maintain male ideology and develop identities as women which satisfy the organizational culture. At the same time, male identity of the organization is strongly evident through sexualized behaviours and norms [Sion, 2001:240]. Sion, in her study about female peace-keepers in the Dutch army, holds that women need to constitute at least 15 per cent of a group in order to be integrated on an even footing. But at the same time the sheer presence of women deeply challenges dichotomized gender orders that reserve the means of violence to men [Eifler, 2002; Klein, 2001a].18 This will have repercussions: armies will either react with accelerated processes of remasculinization or with measures to promote democratization of the military. A tendency toward a more unbalanced relationship between the military and the civil dimension of the EMP will be accelerated by shared conceptions of the importance and relevance of militarized maleness and femaleness. The resistance and steadfastness of these role-models and practices are constraining the building of a comprehensively secure environment for both genders. It remains a highly controversial issue, not only among feminists, whether institutions like the military can actually be democratized and if women can and should play a role in such processes [Mathis, 2002; Enloe, 2000; Cockburn and Zarkov, 2002; Peterson and Runyan, 1999]. Some scholars do not expect any substantial changes. So far, much of the empirical evidence does not indicate substantial changes in gender stereotypes and actions through women’s participation in the armed forces [Klein, 2001b:295; Eifler, 1999; Barrett, 1999]. Still, as long as the military is an important institution, the equal participation of women in the armed forces must be part of all formal democratization processes. In many societies, having been part of the armed forces also has an impact on access to high-profile jobs and to resources. Women will be excluded from these recources so long as they are excluded from equal participation in the military. In addition, feminist scholars like Cynthia Cockburn and Meliha Hubic have thought about how gendered modernization of the armed forces could be used as a starting point for changing armies and peacekeeping forces. Taking the Bosnian experience, they have looked to


changing gender orders in the armed forces as a method of supporting cooperative security policies [Cockburn and Zarkov, 2002]. Conclusions Without democracy, the rule of law and full respect for human rights on the one hand and economic development on the other, there is no chance of a sustainable stabilization of the region. A security partnership based on a narrow definition of security and conducted in co-operation with authoritarian regimes alone can only provide repression and stalemate, while the political and socio-economic causes of instability remain untouched, creating fertile ground for the recruitment of terrorists [Jünemann, this collection]. I would like to add that security can only be achieved by adopting a gender-sensitive approach that takes the different roles and experiences of ‘men’ and ‘women’ into consideration. Security issues are deeply gendered as both men and women are exposed to violence, war and insecurity. However, the effects of this exposure are quite different for men and women: the ‘sexual division of violence’ [Cockburn, 2001; Peterson and Runyan, 1999] ascribes gender-differentiated roles and experiences to women and men. Dichotomized complementary gender stereotypes greatly influence IR theory. An active ‘protector-perpetrator’ role is attached to ‘men’, whereas a passive ‘victim-supporter’ role is ascribed to ‘women’. These gender perceptions often underlie our understanding of security issues. Gender regimes [Connell, 1999] determine inclusion and exclusion, for example, in terms of access to citizenship or in terms of the differentiation between public and private sphere. The military is an important institutional producer of a specific type of militarized masculinity that often hinders more co-operative and inclusive approaches to security. Feminists have developed a broad understanding of security. Their approach stresses a multidimensional perspective on security including questions of social and economic justice, democratic gender relations, care of the environment, the ‘interconnectedness’ of actors as well as the absence of structural and personal violence for both women and men [Tickner, 1992; Peterson, 1992; Wasmuht, 2002; Mathis, 2002]. The achievement of peace, economic justice, and ecological sustainability is inseparable from overcoming social relations of domination und subordination; genuine security requires not only the absence of war but also the elimination of unjust social relations, including unequal gender relations [Tickner, 1992:128].


This kind of security can be achieved through contesting violent masculinities. Connell suggests supporting alternative models of masculinity that are peaceful, open to negotiation and co-operation: The goal should be to develop gender practices for men which shift gender relations in a democratic direction. Democratic gender relations are those that move towards equality, non-violence, and mutual respect between people of different genders, sexualities, ethnicities, and generations [Connell, 2002:16]. Thus, achieving a comprehensive security and an ‘area of peace and stability in the Mediterranean’ needs to take the gendered dimensions of security and insecurity into account. NOTES In addition to participants in the WOCMES conference on which this collection is based, the author owes special thanks to Annette Jünemann, Stefania Panebianco and Una Harders whose important questions and comments greatly contributed to this text. 1. It is important to note that battering, rape, forced prostitution and abuse of women and children as well as trafficking in human beings result from power imbalances rather than from sexual motives as, for example, the terrible ‘rape camps’ showed during the Bosnian war [Nikolic-Ristanovic, 1996:197; Brandewiede, 2000]. 2. King and Murray develop a very interesting international Human Security Measure which allows for cross-country comparisons. They operationalize seven categories of main threats to human security: economic, food, health, environment, personal, community and political. The measurement of human security is then indicated by ‘the number of years of future life spent outside a state of “generalized poverty”. Generalized poverty occurs when an individual falls below the threshold of any key domain of human well-being’ [King and Murray, 2001:585]. They conclude that a ‘small increase in wellbeing across the generalized poverty threshold produces a considerably larger change in utility than all but the most extreme changes in human well-being at other levels. If this is true, then the priority of human security over human development is an automatic consequence’ [King and Murray, 2001:607]. 3. Poststructuralist theorizing drew our attention to the fact that both sex and gender are socially produced categories within the ‘heterosexual matrix’ that imposes the idea of two sexes. The theoretical and practical implications of this critique have been heatedly debated among feminists [Benhabib et al., 1993; Gildemeister, 2001]. Cross-cultural research on gender diversity shows ‘that there is no simple, universal, inevitable, or “correct” correspondence between sex and gender and that the Euro-American privileging of biological sex (anatomy) is not universal’ [Nanda, 2000:2].


4. The term ‘gender order’ describes a particular structuring of gender relations. Institutionally these orders manifest themselves in ‘gender regimes’ [Connell 1987:120; 1999]. According to Connell a ‘gender regime’ means ‘the state of play in gender relations in a given institution’ [Connell, 1987:120]. 5. Connell develops four interdependent models of masculinity: hegemonic, subordinate, compliant and marginal masculinity. Most men do not live up to the ideal of hegemonic masculinity. Within a hierarchical and patriarchal gender system, they can benefit from these structures through a patriarchal dividend [Connell, 1987:120; 2002:16]. Robert Connell argues that ‘transnational business masculinity’—and, I would add its counterpart, ‘supportive family oriented femininity’—are today’s dominant complementary gender constructions. 6. It is important to note, though, that social practice never meets the ideals of social construction. Women and men have always consciously or unconsciously subverted prescribed gender models [Elshtain, 1995]. 7. It seems to be more precise to speak about women and children as the major civilian victims of war and conflicts as male soldiers die too. In addition, women are also actively involved in wars as soldiers, members of militias or as civilian supporters of conflict-related atrocities [Kretzer, 2002; Zdunnek, 2002; Peterson and Runyan, 1999; Elshtain, 1995]. The report rightly highlights the role of women as victims as well as that of active peacemakers. Still, it is important to stress the fact that women are not the ‘naturally peaceful’ gender. 8. According to feminist and critical social science research it is difficult to draw a clear line between war and peace. Some researchers speak about floating war zones including post-and pre-war situations that account for ongoing violence against women after peace treaties have been signed [Cockburn and Zarkov, 2002; Braig, 2000; UN, 2002]. 9. Even though it is very difficult to gain reliable data on the issue, UN research indicates that between ten and 50 per cent of women report that they have been physically abused by an intimate partner in their lifetime [WHO, 2000: 1]. For Egypt the rate given is 34 per cent, for Turkey 58 per cent and for the UK 30 per cent of women [UN, 2002]. 10. Enloe develops a model of ‘institutionalized militarized rape’: ‘“recreational rape”—the assumption that soldiers need constant access to sexual outlets; “national security rape”— when police forces and armies use rape to bolster the state’s control over a population; and “systematic mass rape” as an instrument of open warfare’ [Enloe, 1993]. 11. All indices can be criticized because of their restricted use of combined indicators which describe the multi-faceted situation in countries all over the world. Nevertheless they offer the possibility of cross-country comparison. They allow for a structural perspective on the basic dimensions of human well-being. It is important, though, to enrich and differentiate these indicators qualitatively. 12. Maleness and the willingness to fight for ones’ country have been theoretically and practically linked to citizenship rights. Yet Nira YuvalDavis points to the fact that these structures have never been inclusive: ethnic origin, class, age, and qualification have been important factors for excluding


13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

18.

non-elite men from military service and full citizenship rights [Yuval-Davis, 1999:21]. For example, the features of militaristic maleness combine ‘male’ and ‘female’ characteristics. The soldier is driven to kill because of his capability to love his country. He accepts the idea of dying for a community or an ideology. According to Mordt, aggression, autonomy, rationality and physical force have to be accompanied by a deep emotion in order to produce proper soldiers [Mordt, 2002]. But whereas ‘men’ translate this emotion actively into fighting, ‘women’ are ascribed the role of the passive civilian victims of fights. I present the whole typology even though only some of the countries are EMP countries. EMP countries are included in all four types. Women can be excluded from conscription because of religious or family reasons (being mothers, pregnant, or married [sic!]). They serve two years instead of three. Only 60 per cent of women as compared with 90 per cent of men are conscripted. Eighty per cent of the male soldiers serve three years whereas only 15 per cent of the females conclude their two years of duty. ‘The military in Israel is the main force in shaping male identity; military service can be understood as a rite of passage to male adulthood’ [Klein, 2001a:203, 205]. Unfortunately, since Graeff-Wassink did her comprehensive study interviewing students of the academy in the 1980s no other studies or data have been made available. In addition to women in the armed forces, she also describes briefly the women of the female personal guard of Muammar alGadhafi (established in 1980) and the female ‘religious revolutionaries’ (rahibat thawriya, established in 1981). Princess Aisha graduated from the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst, UK. In 1995, she became director of the Directorate of Women’s Affairs in the Jordanian Armed Forces [Jordan Embassy, 2002]. Even though the Jordanian Army’s official homepage mentions women in the military, it gives no precise quantitative data [Jordan Government, 2002]. According to the IISS, there are men and women to be found in the paramilitary civil militia ‘People’s Army’ [IISS, 2001:137]. This deep resistance is also voiced in academic writings as, for example, by Martin van Creveld who objects to female participation in armies because of its disturbing effects [van Crefeld, 2000].

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Barrett, F.J. (1999): ‘Die Konstruktion hegemonialer Männlichkeit in Organisationen: das Beispiel der US-Marine’, in Eifler and Seifert (eds.) [1999]. Benhabib, S. et al. (eds.) (1993): Der Streit um Differenz. Feminismus und Postmoderne in der Gegenwart, Frankfurt: Fischer. Braig, M. (2000): ‘Das Private sichtbar machen: Feministische Perspektiven auf Kriegs- und Friedensprozesse’, in Ratsch, Mutz and Schoch (eds.), Friedensgutachten 2000 (Münster: Lit Verlag, 2000). Brandewiede, J. (2000): ‘Zur gesellschaftlichen Anerkennung des Vergewaltigungstraumas in der BRD’, Femina Politica 1, pp.57–65. Carreiras, H. (2002): ‘Gender Integration in the Armed Forces: A Cross National Comparison of Policies and Practices in NATO Countries’, http://www.nato.int/ ims/2002/cwinf-02.htm (31 July 2002). Cockburn, C. (2001): ‘The Gender Dynamic’, Peace News 2443, pp.10–11, 19. Cockburn, C. and M.Hubic (2002): ‘Gender and the Peacekeeping Military: A View from Bosnian Women’s Organizations’, in Cockburn and Zarkov [2002]. Cockburn, C. and D.Zarkov (eds.) (2002): The Postwar Moment: Militaries, Masculinities and International Peacekeeping: Bosnia and the Netherlands, London: Lawrence & Wishart. Cohen, S.A. (ed.) (2000): Democratic Societies and their Armed Forces: Israel in Comparative Context, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Connell, R.W. (1987): Gender and Power, Cambridge: Polity Press. Connell, R.W. (1999): Der gemachte Mann. Konstruktion und Krise von Männlichkeit, Opladen: Leske & Budrich. Connell, R. (2002): ‘Masculinities, the Reduction of Violence and the Pursuit of Peace’, in Cockburn and Zarkov (eds.) [2002]. Cooke, M. and A.Wollacott (eds.) (1993): Gendering War Talk, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. DeGroot, G.J. (2002):‘“Wanted: A Few Good Women”. Gender Stereotypes and their Implications for Peacekeeping’, http://www.nato.int/ims/2002/cwinf-01.htm (31 July 2002). Dettke, D. (2002): ‘Militärpolitik/Sicherheitspolitik’, in W.Woyke (ed.), Krieg und Frieden, Schwalbach: Wochenschau-Verlag. Eifler, C. (2002): ‘Soldatin—ein neuer Job für Frauen? Geschlechterkonstruktionen im Vergleich USA, BRD und Russland’, in Harders and Roß (eds.) [2002]. Eifler, C. and R.Seifert (eds.) (1999): Soziale Konstruktion, Militär und Geschlechterverhältnis, Münster: Westfälisches Dampfboot. Elshtain, J.B. (1995): Women and War, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Elwert, G., S.Feuchtwang and D.Neubert (1999b): ‘The Dynamics of Collective Violence: An Introduction’, in Elwert, Feuchtwanger and Neubert (eds.) [1999a]. Elwert, G., S.Feuchtwang and D.Neubert (eds.) (1999a): ‘Dynamics of Violence: Processes of Escalation and De-Escalation in Violent Group Conflicts’, Beiheft zu SOCIOLOGUS, Zeitschrift für empirische Ethnosoziologie und Ethnopsychologie, Heft 1. Enloe, C. (1983): Does Khaki Become You? The Militarization of Women’s Lives, London: Pandora Press. Enloe, C. (1990): Bananas, Beaches and Bases: Making Feminist Sense of International Politics, Berkeley, CA: Oxford University Press.


Enloe, C. (1993): The Morning After: Sexual Politics after the Cold War, Berkeley, CA: Oxford University Press. Enloe, C. (2000): Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women’s Lives, Berkeley, CA: Oxford University Press. Forum International (2001): The Challenging Continuity of Change in the Military: Female Soldiers—Conflict Resolution—South America 22, Strausberg: Sozialwissenschaftliches Institut der Bundeswehr. Graeff-Wassink, M. (1990): La femme en armes. Kadhafi feministe? Paris: Colin. Hagemann, K. and R.Pröve (eds.) (1998): Landsknechte, Soldatenfrauen und Nationalkrieger, Frankfurt and New York: Campus Verlag. Harders, C. and B.Roß (eds.) (2002): Geschlechterverhältnisse in Krieg und Frieden. Perspektiven der feministischen Analyse internationaler Beziehungen, Opladen: Leske u. Budrich. Harris, M.G.M. (1997): ‘Recognising the Role of Women in NATO’s Military Forces’, NATO Review, web-edition 45/5, pp.25–16, http://www.isn-lase.ethz.ch/ cgi-bin. Hedinger, S. (2000): Frauen über Krieg und Frieden: Bertha von Suttner, Rosa Luxemburg, Hannah Arendt, Betty Reardon, Judith Ann Tickner, Jean Bethke Elshtain, Frankfurt: Campus Verlag. Human Security Network (1999): ‘A Perspective on Human Security: Chairman’s Summary, 1st Ministerial Meeting of the Human Security Network’, Lysøen, Norway, 20 May 1999, http://www.humansecuritynetwork.org/menu-e.asp (30 Oct. 2002). IISS (2001): The Military Balance 2001–2002, London: International Institute of Strategic Studies. Joffé, G. (1999): ‘The European Union and the Maghreb in the 1990s’, in Zoubir (ed.) [1999]. Jordan Embassy (2002): ‘Her Royalhighness Princess Aisha Bint A1 Hussein’, http://www.jordanembassyus.org/new/jib/monarchy/hrhpa.shtml. Jordan Government (2002): ‘Jordan’s Military’, http://www.kinghussein.gov.jo/ government5.html. Jünemann, A. (1999): ‘Europas Mittelmeerpolitik im regionalen und globalen Wandel, Interessen und Zielkonflikte’, in W.Zippel (ed.), Die Mittelmeerpolitk der EU, Baden-Baden: Nomos. Jünemann, A. (2002): ‘Six Years After: Reinvigorating the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in C.P.Hanelt et al. (eds.), Europe’s Emerging Foreign Policy and the Middle Eastern Challenge, Munich, Gütersloh: Bertelsmann Foundation. Kaldor, M. (1999): New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kamrava, M. (2000): ‘Military Professionalization and Civil-Military Relations in the Middle East’, Political Science Quarterly 115/1, pp.67–92. King, G. and C.J.L.Murray (2001): ‘Rethinking Human Security’, Political Science Quarterly 116/4, pp.585–611. Klein, U. (2001a): ‘The Gender Perspective of Civil-Military Relations in Israeli Society’, Forum International (2001), pp.201–10. Klein, U. (2001b): Militär und Geschlecht in Israel, Frankfurt: Campus-Verlag.


Kretzer, A. (2002): ‘She Who Violates the Law of War… Hauptkriegsverbrecherinnen im Hamburger Ravensbrück-Prozess 1946/47’, in Harders and Roß (eds.) [2002]. Lomsky-Feder, E. (ed.) (1999): The Military and Militarism in Israeli Society, Albany, NY: State University. of New York Press. Lorber, J. (1999): Gender-Paradoxien, Opladen: Leske u.Budrich. MacDonald, M., E.Sprenger and I.Nubel (1999): Gender and Organizational Change, Amsterdam: Royal Tropical Institute. Mathis, S. (2002): ‘Ein- und Ausblicke feministischer Friedensarbeit’, in Harders and Roß (eds.) [2002]. Moghadam, V. (ed.) (1994): Indentity Politics and Women: Cultural Reassertions and Feminism in International Perspective, Boulder, CO and Oxford: Westview Press. Mookerji, S. (1998): ‘Subjugated to what Extent? Women in the Workplace Today in the United Arab Emirates’, ISIM Newsletter (Leiden) 1. Mordt, G. (2001): ‘Staat, Nation und Geschlecht: Überlegungen zum Zusammenhang von Sicherheitspolitik und Geschlechterpolitik in der Neuen Weltordnung’, in C.Rademacher and P.Wiechens (eds.), Geschlecht—Ethnizität— Klasse. Zur sozialen Konstruktion von Hierarchie und Differenz, Opladen: Leske & Budrich. Mordt, G. (2002): ‘Das Geschlechterarrangement der klassischen Sicherheitspolitik’, Harders and Roß (eds.) [2002]. Moskos, C. (2000): ‘Towards a Postmodern Military?’ in Cohen (ed.) [2000]. Nanda, S. (2000): Gender Diversity: Crosscultural Variations, Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press. Nielsen, V. (2001): ‘Women in Uniform’, NATO Review 49/2, pp.26–7, http:// www.nato.int/ docu/review/2001/0102–09.htm. Nikolic-Ristanovic, V. (1996): ‘War and Violence against Women’, in J.Turpin and L.A. Lorentzen (eds.), The Gendered New World Order: Militarism, Development, and the Environment, London: Routledge. Ogata, S. (2002): ‘From State Security to Human Security’, Ogden Lecture, Brown University, 26 May, http://www.humansecurity-chs.org/doc/ogata_ogden.html. Peterson, S.V. (1992): ‘Security and Sovereign States: What is at Stake in Taking Feminism Seriously?’ in S.V.Peterson (ed.), Gendered States: Feminist [Re]Visions of International Relations Theory, Boulder, CO and London: Lynne Rienner. Peterson, S.V. and A.S.Runyan (1999): Global Gender Issues, Boulder, CO and Oxford: Westview Press. Ruppert, U. (1998): ‘Perspektiven internationaler Frauen(bewegungs)politik’, in Ruppert (ed.), Lokal bewegen—global verhandeln. Internationale Politik und Geschlecht, Frankfurt and New York: Campus. Sen, A. (2000): ‘Why Human Security?’ presentation at the ‘International Symposium on Human Security’ in Tokyo, 28 July, http://www.humansecuritychs.org/doc/Sen2000.html. Sion, L. (2001): ‘Dutch Female Peacekeepers in Bosnia and Kosovo: Between Marginality and Acceptance’, Forum International (2001), pp.233–45. Sylvester, C. (2002): ‘Über Weiblichkeit, Männlichkeit und das Un-Ordnen von IBOrdnungen in Korea’, in Harders and Roß (eds.) [2002].


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5 The EMP and Morocco: Diverging Political Agendas? SAID HADDADI

The need to make the Mediterranean a region of peace, prosperity and understanding between cultures and peoples has become more pronounced and more pressing in the aftermath of the September 11 terrorist attacks on New York and Washington. Enhanced political dialogue and cultural cooperation have been called for amongst various measures to combat terrorism and to promote further democracy and peace in the region. These objectives have constituted an integral part of the political and security basket of the Barcelona Declaration establishing the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) since its inception in November 1995. Indeed, one of the several proclaimed aims of the EMP’s political and security basket has been to promote democracy and democratic principles and respect for human rights and the rule of law in the southern Mediterranean. To this end, a number of initiatives were put in place in support of the EU’s role as a donor and a promoter of democracy in the region. EU financial assistance and economic co-operation with third countries have become conditional on respect for democracy and the building of democratic institutions—elements that have been introduced as both condition and objective in most agreements with third countries. Civil society and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) have been deemed by the EU as credible partners with which to conduct co-operation for the implementation of such goals. On the other hand, the political liberalization that has taken place in Morocco since the early 1990s has been considered by some (not least the European Commission) as a significant step and a ‘declared will’ of the North African country to democratize. Within the EMP framework, in February 1996 Morocco and the EU signed a bilateral association agreement as an endorsement of the Barcelona Declaration, thus expressing their will to work together towards achieving its economic, political and socio-cultural objectives. Against the background of this co-operation, the present contribution examines the political agendas of the EU and Morocco with regard to the democratization process in the latter. It first outlines EU policies designed with the aim of promoting democracy in the Mediterranean. Second, it

THE EMP AND MOROCCO: DIVERGING POLITICAL AGENDAS? 75

looks at the political reforms undertaken in Morocco, with a particular focus on developments since the arrival of King Mohamed VI in 1999. Third, it seeks to evaluate the EU’s and Morocco’s political agendas in the light of the EU-funded projects with the purpose of enhancing democracy and respect for human rights in the North African country. EU Democracy Promotion within the EMP The entering into force of the Maastricht Treaty in 1993 and the establishment of a European Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) helped to enshrine human rights and democratic principles more markedly as a cornerstone and instrument of the EU’s external relations and as an integral part of its development and co-operation policies towards third countries [Clapham, 1999:632–6]. Indeed, in May 1995, six months prior to the signing of the Barcelona Declaration, a European Council decision set out the modalities and conditions of co-operation with third countries, injecting a clause on respect for human rights and democracy as a major foundation and condition of the EU bilateral trade and co-operation agreements. In an attempt to take the conditionality clause beyond mere rhetoric, a suspension clause was also appended in 1996 to most agreements with the EU, stipulating the cessation of co-operation and assistance in cases of ‘serious and persistent’ violations of human rights and democratic principles by a third country. In cognizance of this new acquis, the ‘human rights’ or ‘conditionality’ clause has been included as a central component of the political dialogue the EU is conducting with Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs) under the Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements (EMAAs). The EMAAs clearly contain, in Articles 3, 4 and 5, provisions for the establishment of a political dialogue between the EU and the signatory countries that is based on respect for democratic principles, human rights and the rule of law. In addition, Article 3 of the MEDA1 Regulation governing the EMP added a suspension clause to EU co-operation with MPCs.2 Thus, with the signature of the association agreement (and its political dialogue), cooperation as well as its continuation consequently became contingent, at least in theory, on good human rights records and an indication to move forward with a further consolidation of democratic principles [Youngs, 2002:Ch.3]. To sustain these objectives, in 1996 the EU developed, within the framework of the European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR) of 1994, the MEDA-Democracy Programme (MDP) as a major component of the EMP’s third basket on social, cultural and human affairs. The MDP’s chief purpose was to grant financial support to civil society members and public bodies with projects aiming to develop democracy and the rule of law. The legal framework of the MDP was


anchored in a number of texts, notably the Barcelona Declaration, the association agreement, Council Regulations (No.975/1999) and the MEDA Regulation and their reforms under the MEDA II programme. In this framework, since 1995 the European Commission has sent a number of communications to the European Council and the European Parliament (EP) with the aim of improving EU approaches to the promotion of human rights and democratization. In particular, a communication of 8 May 2001 focused mainly on the role of the EU as a democracy promoter in third countries [European Commission, 2001a]. Taking into account recent developments with regard to the treaties of Amsterdam and Nice together with the provision of the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights of December 2000, the Commission sought to provide some guiding principles for the development of a coherent strategy for EU external relations in fields relevant to the support of human rights and democratization. The communication also called for an enhanced strategic approach to promote the EIDHR and render it more able to link up the various programmes of the EU. Within this spirit of strategic coherence, the work of the MDP was transferred to the EuropeAid and Cooperation Office (EACO) in 2000. The EACO has thus become responsible for the democracy-related project cycle, from identification to implementation. The Directorate-General for Development and that for External Relations have continued to hold responsibility for the programming of external assistance. This strategic planning is reflected in the amendments made to the MEDA I Regulation and the introduction of country strategic papers (CSPs) to complement and guide national indicative programmes (NIPs). Indeed, the MEDA II Regulation has sought to strengthen the link between MEDA programmes and, on the other hand, the implementation of reforms initiated by the MPCs under the association agreements, thus intending to take full account of the broader strategy for each country as well as for the Mediterranean as a whole (Euromed Special Features 21, 3 May 2001). Political Reform in Morocco By the time of the signing of the EMAA in February 1996, Morocco had already begun a series of reforms with the aim of allowing for further political overtures. Against the political violence simmering in Algeria and a sclerosis paralysing political life in Tunisia in the 1990s, Morocco’s political balance sheet appeared somewhat positive, not least from the European Commission’s point of view. The release of political prisoners, the constitutional reforms of 1992 and 1996, the establishment of political alternance between the socialist opposition Koutla, and the nationalist Wifaq [Khatibi, 1999], the arrival in government of the socialist opposition


headed by the veteran leader Abderrahmane Youssoufi as prime minister, after long, protracted negotiations with the Palace and the participation of some moderate Islamists in Parliament after the 1997 legislative elections, all represented signals of a qualitative political reform that was much needed in the face of the deteriorating medical condition of King Hassan II and alarmist speculation about a tragic aftermath in the country following his death. The succession of Hassan II—which was awaited with a great deal of apprehension considering the country’s fragile socio-economic and political situation—and the arrival of King Mohamed VI to the throne in 1999 proved calm and appeared, to some, rather promising. The sacking of Driss Basri, interior minister and a symbolic figure of King Hassan’s era, the introduction of a ‘new concept of authority’ based on respect for individual liberties, the rule of law and the preservation of social stability,3 and the release from house arrest of the Islamist leader Sheikh Abdessalam Yassine, all constituted gestures that punctuated the first years of Mohamed VI’s reign. They conveyed a move away from the practices of the past. These moves were later reinforced by the setting up of a royal consultative commission to reform the civil personal code (the Moudawana), the establishment in July 2001 of regional ‘super-walis’ (governors) with greater power to boost decentralization, and the creation of a royal institute for Amazigh culture, granting official recognition to the Berber language as part of the Moroccan cultural identity and future integration in the school system. These reforms showed the determination of the new King to continue with the political openings initiated by his father in the early 1990s, and the speed with which he introduced them has remarkably ‘fascinated’ both domestic and international public opinion alike. However, though these moves were welcomed as a break with the past and a step towards a more equitable future, the way in which they have been taken has not ceased to cause concern about the prospects of a real democratic change in the country. Most of the reforms carried out since 1999 were royal initiatives, which led to the role of the government being undermined.4 As a result, the Youssoufi government was criticized as an alternance consensuelle, looking for continuity with (slow) change and evading important questions related to constitutional change and real democratic reforms. Though the government programme was primarily more socio-economic than political, its consensual policy has conveyed a sense of political lethargy, thus giving an added significance to the elections of September 2002 (see below). Notwithstanding the above reforms, political life in Morocco, particularly in the field of human rights, is still in need of improvement.5 A number of human rights issues still remain absent or weakly present on the domestic agenda. For example, a lot of progress has been made in respect of


the dossier of the ‘disappeared’ in terms of the establishment in July 2000 of an arbitration commission to decide on compensation for the material and psychological damage suffered by victims of ‘disappearance’ and their families. Though compensation was granted in hundreds of cases, the issue still occupies centre stage as some victims and their families ask for truth and justice as the only way of achieving settlement and reconciliation [Amnesty International, 2002]. Meanwhile, the setting up of the previously mentioned royal commission in charge of the reform of the Moudawana, the government’s adoption of ‘the national strategic plan for the integration of women in development’ and the implementation of a ten per cent quota in favour of women’s participation in Parliament have all contributed to improve the situation of women’s rights in the country. However, efforts to promote other civil rights for women need to be concerted, especially in relation to domestic violence, marriage, penal law and labour. The lengthy process of certain reforms has generated frustration in political parties and civil society alike. This has been, in particular, the case of the reform of the law on public liberties and the deontology of the press. Against this background, political reform in Morocco seems to be moving at variable speeds: a relatively high speed for political liberalization and a lower one with regard to democratization. True, royal initiatives have constituted further gestures of political liberalization, but they have remained short of triggering clear moves towards more democracy and the consolidation of a democratic political life. Their content has been limited to symbolic social politics rather than daring practical reforms with direct consequences for democracy in the country. Indeed, the focus of both Mohamed VI and of the government programme has been primarily on economic and social development: the King mentioned the need for an ‘economic State’ (L’État économique), and Prime Minister Youssoufi referred to the alternance as a ‘transition’ towards democracy. In a country with over 20 per cent of unemployment in urban areas, a job market unable to absorb newcomers, and fears of Islamists filling more of the ‘vacuum of discontent’ separating citizens from the state, a policy focusing on socio-economic development is justified to the extent that it is successful. However, with the arrival of the opposition government, the socio-economic situation did not change a great deal. Rather, signs of lethargy started to show and some observers warned against the dangers of an attentisme (wait-and-see attitude) that prevailed in the country (Le Monde, June 2001). With the events of 11 September 2001, the violence in the Middle East, large Islamist demonstrations in Morocco in April 2002 and the arrest of some Islamist members following a number of massacres five months later (see below) have all prompted scenarios of a landslide victory for the Islamists and Moroccan elections turning into an Islamist experience à l’algérienne (Le Monde, Sept. 2002).


In the face of this attentisme, the elections of 27 September 2002—the first since the accession of Mohamed VI to the throne—were awaited as a harbinger that was to reveal the truth about the democratic development the country has (or has not) achieved under the reign of the new king. Indeed, though the elections were described, in the now-too-familiar phrase, as ‘the first free and fair elections’ and the continuation of public disenchantment with politics, they were an opportunity to persuade the Moroccan population of the qualitative political changes occurring in the country and reconcile them with politics.6Relatedly, and more important, the fact that they were held under Mohamed VI’s reign made them a decisive test and a time to take stock of the democratization process the country has undergone since the establishment of the first government of alternance following the 1997 legislative elections. The result of the 2002 elections reflected the growth of a certain balance between the political influences present in the country. The elections did not bring any surprise in relation to the historic parties of the Union Socialiste des Forces Populaires (USFP) and the Istiqlal Party (IP), which won 50 and 48 seats respectively. A certain element of surprise was present in relation to the results registered by the moderate Islamist party, the Parti de la Justice et du Développement (PJD), which tripled its parliamentary seats from 14 in the previous parliament to 42 in the present one, thus positioning itself as the third party in the country. These results become even more impressive against the fact that the PJD presented candidates in only 56 of the total 91 constituencies. The other novelty brought about by these elections was the presence of 31 seats for women (11 per cent), slightly more than the ten per cent quota reserved for them. Set aside the large number of seats gained by the first four parties (the Rassemblement National des Indépendents [RNI] won 41 seats), the results of the elections showed a fragmented party political scene, allowing for a number of party coalitions to take place. Indeed, the new government was formed around a mix of six different parties, the PJD, however, prefered not to participate in the new government and, thus, formed the largest single party in the opposition. However, despite the elections having been hailed as a ‘Moroccan exception’ (Le Monde, Oct. 2002), a noticeable absence was that of the ‘Al-Adl wal-Ihasan’ (Justice and Charity), an Islamist group headed by Sheikh Yassine. Moreover, the elections registered a low turn-out. According to official records, only 51.61 per cent of eligible voters turned out to vote, lower than the rate registered in 1997 elections (58.3 per cent). None the less, this difference in percentage between the two elections seems to be dwarfed by the number of electoral irregularities registered in 1997. Despite the results of the 2002 elections confirming a certain maturity of the political life in the country, at same time they seem to have reinforced the view of ‘change in continuity’ that is dear to EU officials and often


proclaimed in Morocco. So to what extent does this translate in relation to the political agendas of the EU and Morocco? An examination of the projects funded by the EU to enhance democracy in the North African country provides insight into this question. To this end, the following section looks at projects financed in the period 1996–2001 by the EU within the EMP framework to benefit democracy in Morocco. EMP and Moroccan Political Agendas If the recent political changes in Morocco have been viewed by the EU as more promising in comparison with its North African neighbours, the situation was somewhat different at the beginning of the 1990s. Indeed, EU —Moroccan relations proved strained in the early years of the EU’s efforts to promote democracy as part of its external relations policies. Shortly after the adoption of the European Declaration on Human Rights in June 1991, the EP refused, in January 1992, to give assent to the fourth financial protocol (1991–96) for Morocco on grounds of human rights abuses in the Western Sahara and the appalling conditions of political prisoners (some of them just released). None the less, the EP’s decision proved embarrassing and generated strong reactions both from Morocco and some EU governments [Sutton, 1992:64–5].7 The embarrassment also owed much to the fact that this rejection proved somewhat inopportune as it coincided with the beginning of a series of political openings in Morocco and highlighted the lack of dialogue between the two parties. This unexpected incident drew attention to the adverse effect that strictly applying ‘negative’ conditionality could have on relations with third partners as well as on EU governments possessing special ties with them. The strong reactions occasioned by the freezing of the financial protocol for Morocco informed the subsequent toning down of references to democracy and human rights. Indeed, the formulation of the Barcelona Declaration remains quite cautious as to the kind of democracy to be developed, ‘recognizing…the right of each of [the partners] to choose and freely develop its own political, socio-economic and judicial systems’. The need for such a softly-softly reformulation of the democracy clause was propelled by the need to launch the Barcelona Process but also, and more importantly, to keep it floating with all the initial partners on board. With such an attenuated reference to democracy and human rights in the Barcelona Declaration, together with the economic and financial stakes involved in the EMAA, Morocco signed the association agreement establishing economic, political and socio-cultural co-operation with the EU. The signing of the EMAA was a declared endorsement of the principles enshrined in the Barcelona Declaration and an expressed will to work together towards achieving all its goals, including political ones. In the framework of this political co-operation, the EU has capitalized on the


catalytic role that civil society and NGOs can play in promoting democratic principles, good governance and the rule of law. For this reason, it has decided to channel its programmes and activities through partnership with NGOs and civil society members. Civil society, along with the involvement of non-profit-making organizations, has flourished as an important element in the political life of Morocco since the early 1990s. The relative retreat of the state from certain economic and social domains during the 1980s encouraged a spring in associational life in socio-cultural and economic spheres. Associational life in its modern form started during the mid-1980s with cultural regional associations such as ‘Ribat Al Fath’, ‘Fes-Saiss’, ‘Bou Regrag’, ‘SoussCasablanca’, and so on [Layachi, 1998]. Most of these associations were created and headed by individuals close to the Palace. Their objectives and activities were limited to socio-cultural development, the environment, arts and sports. Progressive political liberalization in the 1990s led to a burgeoning of associations with a more active spirit in the spheres of human rights and democratic development. The present map of civil society in Morocco spans a variety of areas such as human rights, women and children, development, civic education and Islamic associations. The political opening of the 1990s constituted both an opportunity and a challenge for civil society as it was trying to broaden its political agenda to include human rights, democracy and social and economic justice, without however upsetting the state. This surge in civil society has been positively perceived and encouraged by the EU as it started to develop programmes geared towards the promotion of democracy in partnership with civil society and NGOs as major vectors. The Democratization Projects in Morocco, 1996–2001 Under the MDP-EuropeAid, Moroccan public as well as non-governmental bodies could apply for the EU to fund projects intended to enhance respect for human rights and to promote democratic principles. In the period 1996–2001, the EU financed a total of 48 projects in Morocco: 33 centred directly on Morocco, while 15 others involved the country indirectly as a partner at the regional level [Haddadi, 2002:160–65].8 Of all the 33 direct operations, only nine went directly to national NGOs, 18 were handled by international NGOs, four projects were designed by the ministries of human rights and education (that is, governmental bodies) and only two were co-managed by Moroccan and international NGOs. From this distribution of projects, national NGOs have seemed less successful (or less skilful?) in filing applications.9 In comparison, international NGOs with programmes centred on Morocco did well both in terms of the number of projects successfully presented and the amount of funds allocated for their implementation. This distribution also reflects


the novice character of the majority of civil society in Morocco, not least its lack of experience in dealing with foreign donors as well as of adequate infrastructure.10 Moreover, despite the application procedure having been made seemingly more straightforward and information on how to apply for funds easily accessible on the website of the EACO since 2000, this change has not altered the situation a great deal;11 the dominance of international NGOs has continued. The direct project financed in 2001 in order to strengthen civil society in Moroccan rural areas was designed by a French NGO (Migrations et Développement); and a regional one aiming to promote an independent press in the southern Mediterranean has been managed by the International Federation of Journalists. In addition to MDP-EuropeAid funded projects, very few democracyrelated projects benefited directly from MEDA funds. Amongst these was the ‘integrated programme for the support of developmental associations’. The interaction between the MEDA programme and democracy promotion objectives can also be found in projects such as ‘support for basic education’ aiming at the education of young girls, and ‘support for the ministry of social development’ seeking to contribute to the integration of women in development [European Commission, 1999].12 With such projects Morocco has been one of the first countries to have integrated the development of civil society as an essential recommendation of the Barcelona Declaration in its NIP. In accordance with the strategic approach suggested by the European Commission in relation to the EU’s promotion of democracy and human rights, the tendency to make use of MEDA funds to benefit democracy-related projects has been reinforced under MEDA II through the use of 28 million for the reform of the justice system and another 150 million for immigration-related projects. Thematic Areas of Intervention: What Agendas for Democratization in Morocco? An examination of the projects financed in Morocco reveals the orientation of the democratization efforts deployed by the EU in the country and, on the other hand, the intervention areas in which Moroccan civil society and international NGOs have been active. It also shows the kind of civil society acceptable to the EU and sheds light on the extent of divergence/ convergence between the EU and the Moroccan government in respect of their political agendas. In general, the democracy promotion policy of the EU focuses on thematic areas such as ‘democratization and the rule of law’, ‘development of pluralist civil society’, ‘confidence-building to restore peace’ and ‘initiatives for target groups’. In Morocco, the building of a ‘pluralist civil society’ appears top of the list, having absorbed 46 per cent of the total MDP-EuropeAid funds (which largely conforms to the orientations of the EU world-wide). Another 37 per cent went on


‘democratization and the rule of law’ and 17 per cent on ‘initiatives for target groups’.13 The amount allotted to ‘pluralist civil society’ was centred mainly on ‘encouraging NGOs’ with a total of five projects accounting for 19 per cent of the total funds; one regional project for ‘equal opportunities and nondiscrimination’ accounted for 13 per cent; 12 per cent went on ‘human rights education and public awareness’ with eight projects; and the remaining two per cent was devoted to ‘freedom of expression and the media’. Another regional project was financed in 2001 to promote independent journalism. This was mainly a training and capacity-building programme over 30 months for seven countries from the southern Mediterranean.14 Though it is an important addition to ‘freedom of expression and the media’, its impact might be limited because of its small budget and the number of countries involved. In the intervention area of ‘democratization and the rule of law’, defence of human rights came at the top with 22 per cent. None the less, the great lump here came as part of perhaps the biggest regional programme in terms of funds so far with 1.6 million for 2000 and covers Algeria, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco and Tunisia as the applicant countries. Elections, which are vital to any democratic development, received only four per cent of the funds with three projects, including training seminars for electoral observers organized by the Organisation marocaine des droits humains (OMDH) and the Hellenic Foundation for European and Foreign Policy (ELIAMEP). The area of ‘initiatives for target groups’ suffered from a scarcity of projects, especially for children and judicial staff. Indeed, out of the 17 per cent that this area absorbed, only one per cent each went to both children and judicial personnel. Some attention was given to the condition of other target groups under projects financed for 2000 and 2001, notably migrants. The promotion of the rights of migrants benefited from a project set up by the International Organization for Migration for the creation of a migrant resource centre in co-operation with the Moroccan Ministry of Human Rights and national NGOs with similar interests. Another project designed by the French NGO Migrations et Développement, came to reinforce this; it covered programmes for the development of poorer regions, the channelling of legal migration and a better control of irregular migration. Migration also figured as one of the four priority sectors for Morocco under MEDA II [European Commission, 2001:4].15 Though the intervention areas absorbed significant funds under the MDP-EuropeAid, they still lack support in some sub-areas. For instance, despite the restrictive nature of the directives regulating the press in Morocco, only two per cent of the total MDP funds were invested in promoting more freedom in this area. This has been the case also of election-related projects. Similarly, the rights of prisoners remain


underrepresented though it received a relative boost in 2000 with a regional project by Penal Reform International for the support and promotion of national reforms in the fields of penal and penitentiary matters. Judicial reforms were also envisaged as part of the MEDA II programme, even though their remits, within the general framework of the country’s strategic paper, appear directed towards institutional economic reforms to ensure more governance and transparency, rather than towards reforms with significant consequences for democracy. Thus, the intervention areas that benefited from funds under the MDPEuropeAid reflect the priorities of co-operation between the EU and Morocco within the framework of a softly-softly approach. It is true that MDP-EuropeAid projects for Morocco were financed because they were put forward by members of civil society and thus, arguably, they simply reflect areas where this civil society is active. This, however, should not lead one to exclude the influence of the EU as a donor, which allows it to favour applications for funds that correspond most closely to its strategic priorities. Although a direct influence of the Moroccan government cannot be unequivocally asserted over particular projects, the need for a comprehensive approach to democratization in the country entails a certain selection of the areas of intervention to be focused on and the programmes to be financed. This selection appears to be carried out in line with the strategic approach adopted by the EU in this respect and stressed through the CSP. Indeed, the CSP has been the result of consultation and a series of discussions between the Commission and the Moroccan government on the strategies of the latter and the priorities of co-operation. True, the CSP and NIP centre largely on economic and development issues; this does not, however, exclude certain links to the socio-political field. A comprehensive and coherent strategic planning presumably entails an enhanced communication between the EU as a donor and the government with regard to the priorities to be borne in mind while agreeing on the thematic areas under which projects could be financed. None the less, an enhanced co-ordination might sometimes have adverse consequences for the promotion of democracy and the rule of law in the decentralized manner proclaimed in the Barcelona Declaration, not least in the delay of sensitive democracy projects that might compromise co-operation in other sectors. It might also lead to the southern governments exerting an influence on the kind of intervention areas and programmes not to be funded. This co-operation has been clear in the involvement of the Moroccan ministries of Human Rights and Social Development in a number of democracy and human rights projects financed under the MDP. It seems equally obvious in the striking absence of projects under thematic areas that might be sensitive to the regime in Morocco. For example, this has been the case of non-secular pacific groups in setting up associations, not least as


part of the cross-cultural co-operation that is often presented within the EMP as supportive of political co-operation. The right of non-violent nonsecular Islamist groups to establish organizations remains the sticky issue par excellence. The call for freedom of association for Islamist non-violent associations is still absent from the effort of national and international civil society. A number of religious associations are still denied the right to establish an organization or are not officially recognized, which renders them ineligible for EU funds. The most obvious case has been the Islamist group, ‘Al-Adl’. This raises the question of whether the EU can or is willing to sponsor civil society members and NGOs that are not officially recognized by the Moroccan government, or even finance projects in intervention areas that are deemed sensitive. The other case relates to organizations with interests in introducing serious institutional and constitutional reforms in Morocco as major steps to promote democracy and the rule of law. From the above observation, two propositions can be drawn. First, and less probable, is that both Morocco and the EU have the same vision of democratization in the country without any prior co-ordination at the political level and that the EU has the freedom to decide on which projects and areas to prioritize. The second proposition seems more credible in view of the co-ordination and consultation in which both parties are engaged through the association council and association committee in line with the need for strategic and comprehensive planning. There seems to be a ‘tacit agreement’ between the EU and Morocco on the kind of priority areas to be financed. This tacit agreement is encouraged and made easier owing to the softly-softly approach of the EU on the one hand, and Morocco’s will to democratize in a staccato fashion on the other. That is, the demonstrated will of the Moroccan government to push forward with political reforms renders the EU soft-handed policy more productive. The willingness of Morocco to open up in certain areas has led to the EU supporting projects pertaining to these intervention areas without getting closely involved in the sensitive issues, such as some human right abuses in connection to the Western Sahara, abuses which have often been strongly denounced by Amnesty International. A Post-September 11 Agenda? In the aftermath of the September 11 events, the need for further concerted co-operation with governments where terrorism has the potential to come into being has become more pressing. The apprehension of civil society members and NGOs with interests promoting democracy, however, has been that such co-operation might occasion a return, from the European side, to a certain complicity with and support for the incumbent regimes in the southern Mediterranean. This apprehension is equally expressed in


relation to the southern Mediterranean regimes exploiting the mood of post-September 11 to become more rigid and less willing to open politically, suppressing all kind of opposition in the name of the fight against terrorism. Indeed, some southern governments have already done so. They have seized on the events of September 2001 not only to condemn the atrocity of the attacks on New York and Washington, but also to point fingers of blame at Western countries for harbouring opposition leaders in the name of democracy and for Europe’s past insensitivity to their ‘vulnerability’. Furthermore, some members of international NGOs have been accused of support for terrorism through their defence of the human rights of some Islamist members (see Grünert, this collection). However, some nuance is called for in the case of Morocco. Unlike the situation in Egypt, cases of mass arrests and mediatized prosecution of Islamists have been rare in Morocco. This makes the involvement of human rights organizations in the defence of Islamists quite limited and thus their accusation of co-operation with, and support for, them less vivid than it is in Egypt. The arrests of members of alleged Islamist radical groups in August 2002 following a number of massacres,16 together with the seizure of some Islamist literature on sale in the country, might be understood as a reaction to the international ‘securitization’ [Buzan et al., 1998] of Islamism and the call to clamp down on terrorism. None the less, these events have simply rendered more conspicuous an old practice in the country, and the members that were arrested had been known to the authorities since 1998. Thus, the government’s reaction merely corresponds to its need to show its belonging to the international community in the aftermath of September 11 and its engagement in the fight against terrorism, as witnessed by the Agadir Declaration of October 2001. Moreover, though the massacres were strongly condemned by the OMDH as pure acts of barbarism and a violation of human rights, the organization insisted on the legal right of those detained to have a fair trial, and it decided to follow their prosecution closely. On another level, apart from being a sign of maturity in the political life of the country and the continuation of the democratization process, the results registered by the moderate Islamists of the PJD during the 2002 elections demonstrated the absence of a securitization of moderate Islamism in Morocco against the backdrop of events on the international scene. These results highlighted rather an urgent need to differentiate between moderate and radical forms of Islamism in the country, between violent and non-violent. Such differentiation, however, did not put an end to the continuous banning of the non-violent Islamist group Al-Adl. Following the terrorist attacks on Casablanca in the night of 16 May 2003, another distinction is also called for in relation to small Islamist groups with a more radical and extremist makeup and less presence at the national scene. The activities of these groups may indeed contribute to nurture public as well as


government suspicions over the agendas of the two principal Islamist organizations of Al Adl and the PJD, despite their continued assertion of and commitment to non-violence. Conclusion The projects described above, together with their thematic areas of intervention, reflect the manner and degree with which the country is democratizing, but also the areas in which a reluctance to go ahead with serious democratic reforms persists. The examination of these projects has uncovered the relationship between the EU’s and Morocco’s political agendas in respect of the promotion of democracy. From these observations, a number of conclusions can be drawn. First, a lack of divergence in the political agendas of the EU and Morocco has been manifest through the kind of project funded under MDP-EuropeAid. None of the democracy-related projects has been in opposition to government projects and none of the NGOs benefiting from EU money has been banned or suspended by the Moroccan government for doing so. Most of these projects fall under thematic areas that have been accepted, if not encouraged, by the Moroccan government, as witnessed by the involvement of governmental bodies in some of them. The absence of any known friction about the projects funded reflects the close cooperation between the EU and Morocco in respect of the general lines to be followed, leaving little room for divergence about which areas are to be prioritized. Second, this lack of divergence is also the outcome of the EU’s softlysoftly approach to human rights and democracy in Morocco. EU policy is still too cautious, worried about upsetting the government and persistent in its attitude of ‘change within continuity’. Indeed, to circumvent some issues and avoid a direct involvement in the country’s sensitive democratization agenda, priority is sometimes given to projects designed by international NGOs as well as big local NGOs that are known and recognized by the Moroccan government. For the same reason, the EU sometimes finances regional projects, even if their effectiveness tends to be compromised especially in areas where the countries involved have varying degrees of political (lack of) openness. However, from the EU’s point of view, regional projects have the advantage of reaching more countries without making any of them feel singled out as particularly deficient in the areas these regional projects are seeking to address. Third, with the entry into force of the association agreement, the economic stakes involved in the EU-Morocco co-operation are becoming bigger. This growth only reinforces the need for enhanced co-operation with the purpose of setting up strategic and oriented planning. The political fruit of close co-operation remains contingent on the openness of


the country and its will to democratize. It can be beneficent in cases where the government is convinced, for its part, of the need for democratic reform, as is the case to a certain extent in Morocco. On the other hand, this cooperation and the EU’s softly-softly approach can be exploited by less open governments as it might lead to further suppression of political freedom and the delay of sensitive and genuine reforms, especially following the events of 11 September 2001 and the ‘legitimized’ pretext to fight terrorism. In general, co-operation between Morocco and the EU with regard to the promotion of democracy has been without major friction, thanks to a certain agreement over general political priorities. This policy largely defines the kind of projects that will receive EU money, ensuring ‘change within continuity’ and putting the democratization process in a slow lane. None the less, at the same time, it obstructs various civil society and NGOs from obtaining EU funds, thus blocking sensitive projects promoting reforms that could have serious institutional as well as constitutional consequences for democracy. Such a slow attitude towards promoting democracy in Morocco as well as in other MPCs might risk discrediting democratization itself in the eyes of the population as a never-ending process and another form of political lethargy. NOTES 1. MEDA stands for Mesures d’Accompagnement (accompanying measures). It is a programme designed to provide financial aid in support of the implementation of economic transition in the MPCs. 2. Indeed, Article 3 stipulates that ‘this Regulation is based on respect for democratic principles and the rule of law and also for human rights and fundamental freedoms, which constitute an essential element thereof, the violation of which element will justify the adoption of appropriate measures’. 3. ‘Nous voudrions à cette occasion expliciter un nouveau concept de l’autorité et de ce qui s’y rapporte, un concept fondé sur la protection des services publics, des affaires locales, des libertés individuelles et collectives, sur la préservation de la sécurité et de la stabilité, la gestion du fait local et le maintien de la paix sociale. Cette responsabilité ne saurait être assumée à l’intérieur des bureaux administratifs qui doivent, au demeurant, rester ouverts aux citoyens, mais exige un contact direct avec eux et un traitement sur le terrain de leurs problèmes, en les associant à la recherche des solutions appropriées’. Speech by King Mohammed VI, 12 Oct. 1999, Casablanca. 4. For example, the sacking of Basri was announced when Prime Minister Youssoufi was on mission abroad. 5. Morocco has still to ratify the protocol relating to the international treaty on civil and political rights as well as the international convention against torture. 6. For this purpose, a national campaign on radio and television financed by the government was organized to urge the public to vote and denounce


7.

8.

9. 10.

11.

12.

13.

14. 15. 16.

corruption. Slogans such as ‘He who buys your vote today will sell it tomorrow’, ‘Your vote is your right!’ and ‘Your vote is your choice!’ were advertised to raise awareness of political rights amongst the public. The embarrassment was due to the fact that the refusal came more by accident rather than as the result of a real majority view on the part of the Parliament’s members. By virtue of the Single European Act (1986), the signing of the fourth financial protocol required not only the unanimous endorsement of the Council of Ministers but also the absolute majority of the EP’s component members (rather than a majority of those sitting and voting), that is, 260 out of 518 votes. Due to poor attendance of the EP on 16 Jan. 1992, only 245 members of the EP voted for the Moroccan financial protocol. The number of projects is calculated from material published by the Delegation of the European Commission in Morocco (for 1996–99 projects) as well as documents received from the Commission’s Human Rights and Democratization Directorate (for projects approved in 2000). I would like to thank Julia Savage (Relex B1, Human Rights and Democratization) for providing me with data on projects financed in 2001. Unfortunately, data concerning unsuccessful applications has not been available because it is said to be confidential. Faced with the EU’s requirement of reports on the progress of the projects it finances, some NGOs find they do not have enough staff or cannot afford the costs associated with regular and efficient reporting to the EU. After the Commission’s report COM (2000) 726 final, the procedure of applications for funds has changed and application forms are now made available on the internet. These are, respectively, projects number 19, 15, and 20. See ‘MEDA au Maroc’, Bulletin of the European Commission Delegation in Morocco 165 (1999). The classification of projects under the MDP was based on the area of activities as outlined in the European Commission’s ‘European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights: Compendium 2000’. The areas chosen here are those where there are numerous projects with relevance to Morocco. Despite the use of the Commission classification, it remains difficult sometimes to put certain projects in a particular area owing to thematic overlap. These countries are Algeria, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco, the Palestinian Authority and Tunisia. The other priority areas are: support for the reform of public administration, the implementation of the association agreement and the environment. These members belong to groups with denominations such as Al Salafia Al Jihadia, Al takfir wa Al Hijra, Jamaat Al Suna Wa Al Jamaa and Al Amr Bilmarouf Wa Al nahiou An Al Mounkar.


REFERENCES Amnesty International (2002): ‘Morocco/Western Sahara: Day of the “Disappeared”: Families Still await Truth and Justice’, Press Release AI-index: MDE 29/003/2002, 30 Aug. 2002. Buzan, B. et al. (1998): Security: A New Framework for Analysis, London: Lynne Rienner. Clapham, A. (1999): ‘Where is the EU’s Human Rights Common Foreign Policy, and How is it Manifest in Multilateral Fora?’ in P.Alston (ed.), The EU and Human Rights, Oxford: Oxford University Press. European Commission (2001a): Communication from the Commission to the Council, ‘The European Union’s Role in Promoting Human Rights and Democratisation in Third Countries’, COM (2001) 252 final, Brussels, 8 May. European Commission (2001b): Partenariat Euro-Med. Maroc: Document de stratégie 2002–06, Brussels. European Commission, Delegation in Morocco (1999): ‘MEDA au Maroc’, Bulletin 165. Haddadi, S. (2002): ‘Two Cheers for Whom? The European Union and Democratization in Morocco’, in R.Gillespie and R.Youngs (eds.), The European Union and Democracy Promotion: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Layachi, A. (1998): State, Society and Democracy in Morocco: The Limits of Associative Life, Centre for Contemporary Arab Studies, Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. Khatibi, A. (1999): L’alternance et les partis politiques au Maroc, Casablanca: Eddif. Sutton, M. (1992): ‘Euro-Maghreb Partnership: A New Form of Associations?’ Economist Intelligence Unit: European Trends 3. Tozy, M. (1999): Monarchie et islam politique au Maroc, Paris: Presses Sciences Po. Youngs, R. (2002): The European Union and the Promotion of Democracy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

6 A Two-Level Game: Spain and the Promotion of Democracy and Human Rights in Morocco LAURA FELIU

During recent decades, and particularly since the 1970s, a number of states have incorporated the promotion of human rights and democracy into their foreign policy goals. This integration goes beyond mere discourse and has been reflected in a series of institutions and mechanisms and in certain practices [Forsythe, 2000; Vincent, 1989]. Spain is no exception to this evolution. Its entry into the European Community in 1986 was decisive in developing this field of action. But although human rights have been incorporated into the foreign agenda, we can hardly speak of a true ‘policy’ that has been planned in a comprehensive manner, nor can we claim that it embraces all of the spheres of foreign action. True, progress has been made in the (weak) institutionalization of this field of policy, actions are being carried out as a result of international obligations in multilateral forums and certain isolated initiatives of promotion can be detected: a ‘selective indignation’ decided on a case-by-case basis.1 But in general, all of this falls far short of making human rights an axis of foreign policy. Here, the expression ‘human rights foreign policy’ will be used for convenience to refer to the set of considerations and actions by the state in this field, or to ‘a choice among priorities’. As Baehr says: ‘It means that a government will have to decide whether and when it will give a higher priority to human rights over other foreign policy considerations, such as national security, foreign trade and development cooperation. Such policy considerations may conflict with each other’ [Baehr, 1996:23]. This study analyses how the government of the People’s Party (PP—the conservative party, which has governed since 1996) has tackled the question of respect for human rights—particularly civil and political rights, which are central to human rights foreign policies—and democracy in Morocco since the enthronement of Mohamed VI in July 1999.2 The PP’s 1996 manifesto declared that Spain should take into consideration the human rights situation in its relations with the Maghreb, and various official declarations cite the promotion of human rights and democracy as an objective of Spanish relations with Morocco. Both concepts (democracy and human rights) are interconnected in the governmental discourse.

92 DEMOCRACY AND HUMAN RIGHTS IN MOROCCO

It is in diverse interviews with the communications media that more explicit statements are made. For example, the former Spanish foreign minister, Josep Piqué, described the promotion of democracy in Morocco as being of ‘vital interest’ for Spain (El Mundo, 4 June 2001) and committed the government to supporting this process with all manner of instruments and with a long-term vision (El Mundo, 6 Sept. 2001). Furthermore, he stated that there is no one more interested in this than Spain (ABC, 1 Sept. 2001). All these declarations set out the government’s intentions very clearly. The analysis of Spain’s actions regarding the democratization of Morocco must begin with the consideration of two factors, both rejecting at the outset the possibility of Morocco becoming the object of a forceful human rights foreign policy, incorporating public denunciation and the use of coercive instruments. (1) The human rights situation in Morocco. Since the 1990s, Morocco has experienced a process of political liberalization that represents progress in the enjoyment of public liberties, but which has not resulted in democratization of the political system. During the current reign of Mohamed VI, few improvements have been introduced, while national and international human rights organizations warn of the danger of political regression. In their latest reports, national and international human rights NGOs have underlined some serious facts: the harassment of foreign and local journalists, the banning or seizure of newspapers because of critical commentaries, the failure to clarify the cases of several hundred people who disappeared in previous years, the imprisonment of human rights defenders and sympathizers of the nonlegalized Islamist association Al Adl Wal Ihsan. Nevertheless, Morocco is held up as the country with the best human rights record in North Africa and even in the Arab world. This fact reduces the urgency of activating instruments to promote democratization. (2) Spanish-Moroccan bilateral relations. Morocco is a country of vital importance for Spain, and the various governments of democratic Spain have reiterated the desire to establish privileged relations with it. Both countries have shared a long and turbulent common history, as the colonization and decolonization episodes showed in the twentieth century. It must be remembered that Spain is the only EU country still in possession of territory in a Mediterranean Partner Country (MPC): the towns of Ceuta and Melilla, plus some small islands. The importance for Spain of economic, security, cultural and human links with Morocco has increased in a very significant manner since the early 1980s, when the Socialist Party arrived to power [López García, 1992; Gillespie, 2000]. This proximity between the two countries impedes the implementation of certain promotional action,


owing to the hypothetical short-term damage that could be caused to Spanish interests. Taken together, both factors point towards a low profile of Spanish human rights foreign policy, moving in response to external stimuli instead of developing proactive measures to support the process of democratization and respect for human rights. On the other hand, and if we take into account the positive evolution during the last decade of Hassan II’s reign (the ‘reformist decade’), Morocco does appear to be an ideal candidate for a policy of incentives, of a positive conditionality that rewards reforms considered satisfactory. In the following analysis, the first section is devoted to Spain’s interests in Morocco and the possibility that these interests could be damaged by a human rights foreign policy. The next two sections concentrate on factors obstructing all actions of a sanctioning nature. These include a whole set of interacting international and internal circumstances that, taken together, shape Spain’s human rights foreign policy. The fourth section concentrates on factors preventing the execution of policies based on incentives, stressing Spain’s declared confidence in King Mohamed VI. Finally, a number of reflections are made with regard to the future. Morocco as an Object of Spain’s Human Rights Foreign Policy The literature on foreign policies promoting human rights establishes a series of rules designed to help with analysis of specific cases. There is no doubt that one of the foremost and most basic of these considerations is the ‘foreign policy paradox’. According to this, the closer the relations between two countries, the more possibilities of influencing the practice of the other state, but at the same time the more reticence in applying the instruments available, owing to the interests at stake. The result is that, in general (as in the case of Morocco), other considerations neutralize the promotion of human rights. Inversely, the weaker the links between the two countries, the more margin of manoeuvre for acting, but also the smaller the impact produced. In the case that concerns us here, the interests shared between the two parties are considerable. It was particularly during the long period of government by the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party (PSOE) from 1982 to 1996 when a ‘cushion of interests’ was promoted to help put an end to the cycles of conflict that had periodically hampered relations between Spain and Morocco [Hernando de Larramendi and Núñez, 1996]. This effort did, indeed, lead to a strengthening of bilateral relations. This remains relevant, even though the performance of the PP since its reelection with an absolute majority in 2000 would appear to contradict the repeated


presentation of Morocco as a priority for Spanish foreign policy. This second term of PP government has seen a serious bilateral crisis initiated by Morocco on 27 October 2001 with the recall of its ambassador for consultations following, according to the official discourse, a ‘series of antiMoroccan attitudes by Spanish authorities’. The crisis worsened following the Moroccan occupation of the disputed islet of Perejil in July 2002 and the consequent Spanish military response. Inevitably, it had had negative consequences for some aspects of bilateral relations, such as the blocking of new aid programmes and the freezing of new private investments. Yet the bilateral relationship continues to be very important to both countries and the damage done has been more at the level of the ‘spirit’ of the relationship than its contents. Having said this, there are a series of factors that would appear to neutralize, in part, the paradox mentioned earlier: the inverted relation between human rights promotion policies and the interests at stake. One such factor is the reformulation of national interest on the part of certain actors in the international system: in many countries democracy has been incorporated as an essential element in the prevention of violent conflicts and in the free development of economic relations. Another factor is the evolution, at the doctrinal and operational level, of state security concerns towards a more people-centred ‘human security’ concept.3 The Spanish discourse takes note of these changes through the reformulation of the concepts of stability and security. The concern for the maintenance of stability on the southern frontier (understood as maintenance of the status quo) has been the major axis of foreign policy towards the Maghreb [López García, 1992:28; Hernando de Larramendi and Núñez, 1996:36]. In the mid-1990s the concern for preserving stability was transformed into the promotion of ‘dynamic stability’, a concept that abandons immobilism and incorporates a gradual evolution towards democratic formulae.4 Nevertheless, we will see that the Spanish discourse towards the Maghreb has accepted these changes only in a very rhetorical manner. With regard to Spanish-Moroccan bilateral relations, questions could also be raised about the presence of a pro-Morocco lobby. Although the matter has not been studied in any depth, everything seems to indicate that the sectors that are pressing most forcibly for the maintenance of close relations with Morocco, that emphasize aspects other than human rights and that might be opposed to a policy promoting the process of democratization, do not possess the strength of similar interest groups in other countries. Most of the 800 Spanish companies acting in Morocco are of medium or small size, and seem to be more worried than French firms are about the absence of good governance and the existence of corrupt practices, because they are more vulnerable to these practices. These firms do not seem to act as an organized lobby that could block a hypothetical governmental action of human rights promotion.


In spite of these factors that qualify the validity of the paradox, the latter is applicable to the case that concerns us here. The studies carried out by Bernabé López and Miguel Hernando de Larramendi [2002] (for Spain) and Richard Youngs [2002] (for the EU) show that, despite the reformulation of goals, in reality there has been no abandonment of the traditional approaches in which initiatives have been paralysed by a fear of provoking instability and damaging the respective interests. It is to be expected that the current securitization of the Euro-Mediterranean process, in parallel with that of international relations, will reinforce this tendency [Buzan, Wæver and de Wilde, 1998]. Human Rights Foreign Policy: A Two-Level Game The International Dimension Any human rights foreign policy is the result of a two-level game which combines elements, some stronger than others, of internal and international politics [Forsythe, 2000:2]. In Spain’s case, the external sphere, specifically the EU, is the more essential one. Spain’s acceptance of the Community heritage and the obligations arising from entry into the organization have pushed it towards the institutionalization of a human rights foreign policy, fostering commitments and practices, and establishing certain routines. However, although important progress has been made at the European level in this matter, one cannot speak of a communitarization of human rights foreign policy, owing among other reasons to the limitations of the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) itself [Pi, 2000; Feliu, 2001]. Nevertheless, international and EU activity are central elements to the development of Spanish human rights policy. Spain’s entry into the European Community coincided with the initial period when a European policy of human rights promotion was formulated. At that time, some countries had already accumulated great experience in this area, whereas the Spanish contribution was small due to its democratization process being so recent. Nevertheless, Spain quickly accepted the Community heritage in full, and displayed the enthusiasm of the new arrival. Spain’s ideal action towards the promotion of human rights is therefore based on a policy of ‘bridges’ that will enable it to request certain things in return for others. In the interviews conducted, Spanish officials situated Spain at a mid-point between the most ‘fundamentalist’ countries, such as the Scandinavian states and Holland, and the large European powers Germany and France, which are much more reluctant to apply coercive instruments of democracy promotion. Nevertheless, one can also argue that Spain has a number of points in common with the French model:5


(1) An ambitious discourse in respect of the role both countries want to play —leadership in the human rights field; (2) A significant protagonism of the Executive, which has a broad margin of manoeuvre while Parliament occupies a secondary position; (3) A ‘realistic’ praxis, which prefers to build bridges rather than exert direct pressure, and rejects public condemnation; and (4) A preference for multilateral channels, as this implies burden-sharing, greater efficiency and less risk. It is no surprise, then, that a large number of studies refer to France and Spain as the countries most reluctant to incorporate human rights into Euro-Mediterranean relations.6 The explanation for the pre-eminence of external factors in Spain’s human rights foreign policy must also be sought in the internal sphere. During the transition, the interest of politico-social actors was centred on the consolidation of democracy which, combined with the long political isolation which the Spanish population had experienced, tended to produce a public opinion with little interest in international issues.7 Moreover, civil society, which is essential for constituting a lobby in favour of an active human rights policy, has to date shown a very low level of articulation [Subirats, 1999]. The political parties have likewise shown little concern for external human rights matters and few NGOs have taken an overall interest in the question. Parliamentary activity, concentrated in the Foreign Affairs Committee of the Congress of Deputies (the lower house of the Spanish Parliament), is irregular and there is no detailed monitoring by it of the subject. On repeated occasions during interviews, I was told that the government had a wide margin of manoeuvre in this matter because there was no strong pressure being applied by society as a whole. As an official at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs told me: ‘nobody forces us against the ropes.’ However, this weakness and lack of interest appears to be changing now, on the part both of political parties and NGOs. Witness the activity of the parties in passing a bill on human rights promotion in June 1999 with the objective of consolidating the presence of this subject in Spanish foreign policy. However, the bill included no reference to fixed mechanisms to control governmental performance. Its aim was more modest: to contribute to the institutionalization of a human rights foreign policy, especially through meetings of the Foreign Affairs Committee held both before and after the UN Human Rights Commission sessions, or after the respective President of the European Council has submitted the EU’s annual report on human rights to the European Parliament.8 With regard to NGOs, examples of their growing militancy are the Arms Control Initiative co-ordinated by the UNESCO Chair on Peace and Human Rights,9 and the work of the Spanish section of Amnesty


International, which has drawn up a monitoring report on the issue since 1999.10 Although modest, this evolution has led the executive to show greater receptivity to their work. There has been a move away from the complete indifference towards NGOs shown by former foreign minister Abel Matutes in the late 1990s towards a certain collaboration under his successor Josep Piqué, and greater NGO-ministry contact during the Spanish Presidency of the EU [Soler i Lecha and Weltner-Puig, 2002]. But in spite of all of these steps, the internal impulse continues to be limited. This is true in general, but there are cases in which, for a variety of reasons, pressure from political sectors and Spanish society does exist. One of the few cases is, precisely, Morocco. The interest stems from activism over the Western Sahara, which has materialized in associations supporting the Polisario Front, in initiatives vexatious for Morocco such as the simulated referendum held in Seville in November 2001, the passing of a parliamentary motion on the issue in 1997,11 and the launching of an association of parliamentary groups in 2001, called ‘Peace for the Saharawi People’, in which the PP does not participate.12 This defence of, and solidarity with, the Saharawi people’s cause implies not only criticism of Moroccan official policy, but also a much deeper rejection of Moroccan society, for almost all Moroccans believe that Western Sahara belongs to their country.13 Given that Spanish human rights foreign policy is driven generally by external factors, but in this case also by domestic pressure, we need to examine whether the two poles point in the same direction. In this case, international and especially European pressure on Morocco is practically non-existent, since most EU member states have been reluctant to put pressure on a country that is not perceived as problematic in the international sphere. Even the European like-minded countries, the northern ones, have excluded Morocco from their priority list. While discharging its respective European obligations, including Spain’s participation in the monthly meeting of the Maghreb-Mashreq group for the CFSP, its participation in the political dialogue based on the EuroMediterranean Association Agreement, contributions to the European Union Human Rights Report and, in general, contributions to all the EU’s human rights mechanisms, Spain always tries to achieve a consensus among the European partners. In this context, some interviewers use the expressions ‘lowest common denominator’ and ‘the search for a balanced position’. It seems as though the conviction about the need to deploy an active human rights policy becomes further diluted in the process of reaching consensus, since neither Spain nor France presses for the introduction of human rights issues onto the agenda. Following the circle, the European attitude is acquiescent, so that retroactive pressures from the EU on Spain’s conduct are practically non-existent.


The Internal Dimension Given that European passivity makes the possibility of an active Spanish policy more remote, the analysis of internal dimensions, pushing for or against a more vigilant human rights foreign policy towards Morocco, is all the more important. In France, for example, the human rights movement succeeded against governmental opposition in introducing the subject of human rights violations on to the French-Moroccan bilateral agenda. Nothing similar has occurred in Spain. Human rights have remained a nonissue, even during the recent bilateral crisis of 2001–2. This is surprising, since the government could have used the human rights issue as a resource against Morocco in a context of the exchange of reproaches. The fact is that the Spanish government has opted to take a position of minimization and even denial of the gravity of the situation—except during the military intervention over Perejil—and both before and after this episode has used conciliatory language [Feliu and Salomón, 2003]. In this context it is not surprising that the current foreign minister, Ana Palacio, has stated explicitly that she will not exploit the human rights issue (La Vanguardia, 26 July 2002). Obviously, the concept of ‘dynamic stability’, despite being introduced into the official discourse, has succeeded in concealing the continuation of a traditional vision based on the dangers of change: pressures on regimes that violate political and civil rights could destabilize fragile balances. At the same time, there is a recent tendency to emphasize the economic dimension of foreign policy and this increases the weight of other interests to the detriment of the human rights promotion objective. During the latter months of 2002, various official documents, such as the Strategic Plan for Foreign Action submitted to the Foreign Affairs Council, emphasized the economic dimension of Spain’s foreign policy. The growing importance of the Asia-Pacific region for Spanish trade and investment points in the same direction. It seems that economic success has become such a high priority that political considerations are losing ground. According to some policymakers’ statements, it seems as though authoritarian regimes are perceived as less authoritarian if their economies are dynamic and open. Another factor that hampers internal encouragement of a proactive human rights foreign policy is the impossibility of converting the demands of different politico-social actors into effective policies. No suitable and formalized channels exist for activism to materialize in concrete pressures (the informal ones need more resources and mobilization). Significant progress has been made in recent years in the assumption of principles, and the institutional apparatus has begun to adapt to the new goals. The best example is the Human Rights Office (HRO) formed in 1983, which takes the lead on questions of foreign policy and human rights and concentrates its work on the legal obligations under the human rights instruments to


which Spain is a party. Despite this, there are still many unresolved matters that directly affect the case in question. Spanish foreign policy lacks a focal point to provide an impetus to democracy and human rights promotion. There is no central document that systematically sets out how to act—a document that could be discussed and invoked in the manner, for instance, of the Dutch Human Rights and Foreign Policy Memorandum issued in 1979, which contains the basic elements of government policy in this field.14 The PP has outlined the principles of its human rights foreign policy in several individual documents: some interventions in parliamentary sessions, especially before UN Human Rights Commission meetings at Geneva, some oral and written answers to parliamentary questions and some vague references in speeches by King Juan Carlos and the foreign minister.15 Nor is there an event that serves to centre activism around the issue, such as the presentation of an internally-generated document on the state of human rights in the world, that could be used as a shaming instrument, as it is already in several western countries.16 A considerable lack of co-ordination is evident. The HRO, which should be central to this undertaking as a co-ordination mechanism within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, has scarce resources (a small staff of no more than a dozen even at times of special circumstances) and concerns itself mainly with multilateral issues. The work in multilateral fora is important, but this is only one part of human rights foreign policy. In fact, the HRO covers major meetings on human rights at the United Nations (for example, the Human Rights Commission sessions), European Union, Council of Europe and Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), but the bilateral aspects are neglected. Consequently, there is no integral approach that co-ordinates aspects as varied as arms sales, Official Development Aid (ODA) and investment promotion, for example. There are no formalized channels through which officials from different ministries and departments can meet regularly to discuss these issues. The HRO organizes some meetings to deal with its multilateral obligations, but not in order to guarantee the coherence of Spanish human rights foreign policy. In cases like Morocco, where bilateral relations are very rich and complex, this defect becomes crucial. There is no mechanism that guarantees co-ordination between ministerial departments, comparable —for example—to the former US ‘Christopher Group’, an inter-departmental committee that dealt with the co-ordination of human rights policy [Maynard, 1989]. Another problem is the impenetrability and lack of information that hampers action and conceals what is in reality a passive attitude. The government does not provide any information about the treatment of human rights issues at the bilateral meetings. No less important, the Spanish model has expressly rejected conditionality: there is no legislation


linking aspects of foreign policy with the state of human rights. This is all the more striking seeing that a democracy clause was included in the EuroMediterranean Association Agreements (EMAA) between the EU and Morocco, and in the MEDA Regulation, although the application of this type of instrument is exceptional in the EU’s external relations and has not yet been applied in the Mediterranean.17 This absence of any democracy clause in the Spanish-Moroccan bilateral Friendship Treaty of 1991— which, on the other hand, made some general references to the human rights issue—stresses the lack of coherence between both foreign policy domains. The Spanish case, like many others, embodies only retrospective parliamentary control, whereby government ministers or officials must account for their performance; it excludes any kind of control ex ante. Besides all these characteristics of Spanish human rights foreign policy, a second element that contributes to the blocking of Spanish civil society initiatives is the absolute majority achieved by the PP in the year 2000 and its arrogant attitude since then. The handling of relations with Morocco directly by the Moncloa (the Prime Minister’s Office) reduces the possibility of influence of other political actors over the policy-makers. However, more influence of Spain’s main opposition party would not change a lot, since the PSOE has close ties with the Moroccan Socialist party, the USFP, which until recently headed the coalition government in Morocco. Thus, the Spanish Socialists have also avoided criticism and have supported the USFP at all costs, ignoring the evidence of governmental antidemocratic decisions by the Moroccan government. Constructive Dialogue and Confidence in Mohamed VI What, then, is the concrete expression of Spain’s human rights foreign policy applied to Morocco? As we will see below, and as is suggested by the elements described so far, Spain does not appear to have a comprehensive approach to the question. The official Spanish discourse opts for a so-called ‘constructive dialogue’ as an instrument to foster human rights and democracy. Sanctioning instruments are rejected, since Morocco is not considered a serious case that justifies the employment of such harsh instruments. Spain has officially opted for a policy that combines firmness with the offer of ‘bridges’. Official Spanish Discourse and Practice on the Ground Spanish officials transmit a benevolent image of the situation in Morocco, which avoids all criticism and, perhaps more surprisingly, demonstrates absolute confidence in the ‘unbreakable will’ of the new King to democratize the country and promote greater social justice,18 despite the fact that experience so far has not confirmed this wishful thinking.19 In


appearances in Parliament and in interviews, officials commonly attribute to Mohamed VI many of the changes that in fact were carried out by his father, thus distorting the information offered and even providing false data.20 The new King’s most highly valued characteristics are his support for the modernization process, no doubt with the idea of containing the Islamist movement,21 and for economic development, which is always mentioned before democratization, and is associated with economic liberalization (Piqué, quoted in El Mundo, 6 Sept. 2001). The violations of human rights are ‘accidents along the way’; what counts is the evolution of the whole. Consequently, the Spanish government does not condemn repressive practices in Morocco and refrains from any action that could be perceived as interference in domestic affairs, as Piqué explicitly insisted (El Mundo, 6 Sept. 2001). Even during the bilateral crisis at the end of 2001, it continued to assess the situation positively,22 and the question of democratization was not included on the bilateral agenda. Above all, it seems as though the government has not even deployed a confidential or silent diplomacy through the existing channels, for example on the annual summits envisaged in the Spanish-Moroccan Friendship Treaty.23 The non-conditioning of Spain’s foreign relations to the human rights situation is especially evident in the case of the arms trade with Morocco. Spain is one of Morocco’s main weapons suppliers and Morocco is Spain’s seventh largest client in this sector. The UNESCO Chair places Morocco among the group of countries that should be subject to strict surveillance and various groups have called for a blockade on arms sales to Morocco.24 They argue that Morocco is still involved in an open conflict in the Sahara and that the political system is characterized by a considerable level of militarization,25 with an opaque army—see the Captain Adib case26 —and with growing military influence on the King. Despite the importance of the issue, the government does not offer detailed lists of what types of armaments it sells and continues to sell material amenable to dual purposes. In conformity with this acquiescent vision of things, the Spanish embassy in Rabat has followed a low profile policy. References to the human rights situation, to be included in the political chapter of the embassy’s annual Memorias of activity, depend exclusively on the will of the official in charge, who has no obligation to conduct a specific fact-finding process. The interviews conducted in 1993 and 2002 reveal a decrease in dealings regarding specific human rights issues. Although it is true that political repression has lessened, there is also evidence that no action has been taken over particularly disturbing cases.27 At least one can observe that a few practices aimed at strengthening the human rights movement have become consolidated as routine embassy tasks, practices such as meeting all the human rights associations when a new political officer arrives at the


embassy, including a section in the annual embassy Memoria on human rights diplomatic initiatives and promoting co-ordination with other European embassies.28 This statement must be qualified in relation to a particular case that occurred after the initial draft of this essay had been written. In 2003 the Moroccan journalist Alí Lmrabet was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment and the magazines he directed, Demain Magazine and Douman, were closed. The sentence arose within the context of a campaign against freedom of expression and of a regression in the human rights situation.29 Reactions to this case in Spain would call for a detailed analysis which cannot be included in this essay. Nevertheless, the case confirms some of the observations made in earlier pages: • The increasing interest shown by Spaniards in matters relating to human rights abroad, and more specifically in Morocco. This is the first case of a human rights breach (unrelated with the Western Sahara issue) that has been widely followed by Spanish media and society.30 • In relation to the political parties, two things are shown. On the one hand, a growing interest in human rights issues abroad. Many questions were tabled to the government by MPs belonging to Izquierda Unida, Convergencia i Unió, Bloque Nacionalista Gallego and Esquerra Republicana de Cataluña. However, the two main parties remain reluctant to commit themselves to any action in this sphere. PSOE (socialist) continues to take a line of avoiding any public criticism of the Moroccan authorities, declaring itself in favour of discreet approaches (in the end, the leader of the opposition, Zapatero, sent a number of confidential letters to the King of Morocco and to the Minister of Justice). The governing party, PP, has shown no interest in the case, simply reacting to the policies of the other groupings.31 On the other hand, a certain lack of co-ordination among the parties continues; Parliament has not undertaken a co-ordinating role, as there is no committee entrusted with the matter. There has been no serious monitoring of the dossiers within the parties themselves (with MPs unaware of the work of colleagues in their own parties, initiatives that are not followed up, and so on). • The Spanish government has shown itself reluctant to place the human rights issue on the Spanish-Moroccan bilateral agenda. At a time when relations between the two countries are returning to normal, the government is willing to take some minor steps out of humanitarian concern and due to Lmrabet’s links with Spain (he is from Spanishspeaking northern Morocco and his girlfriend is Spanish), as well as to reflect the concern the issue has raised in Spanish society. Although several sources state that prime minister Aznar raised the issue with his counterpart Dris Yettú during the latter’s first visit to Spain following


the bilateral crisis, there is nothing to indicate that it was a formal intervention.32 (President Chirac of France, on the other hand, did make an open statement in the course of a visit of the same type.) The foreign minister, Ana Palacio, repeated on several occasions that the judicial decision of a friendly country had to be respected and the independence of Moroccan justice accepted,33 this despite the criticisms from international organizations who denied such independence (Amnesty International, Reporters Without Frontiers, FIDH (Federation Internationale des Ligues des droits de l’Homme), LDH (Ligue des droits de l’Homme), Committee to Protect Journalists, Human Rights Watch, etc.). The Spanish Embassy has been very active in this case, monitoring events closely, drafting notes and reports for the Foreign Ministry and suggesting various alternatives. Such interest was not shown with other human rights dossiers, and goes to show the importance of the human factor —the people in charge at the Embassy—in these issues. In the absence—as in the Spanish case—of an action protocol laid down for embassies on such matters, the sensitivity of the incumbents is crucial. Positive Instruments and their Limits Since Spain has obviously discarded the use of negative instruments, it is worth scrutinizing to what extent the route of incentives has been taken. Incentives and rewards for positive evolution entail fewer risks for the promoter country and therefore seem reasonably appropriate in the case of Morocco.34 An indicator to measure the success of this strategy is the development of bilateral relations in terms of institutional and civil society co-operation. Spain’s development co-operation with Morocco is a very recent phenomenon, compared for example with its co-operation with Latin America.35 In 1998 only 16 per cent of Spanish NGOs were working in Morocco [Andreo Tuleda, 2002:136], contrasting with a long presence of French and ‘Anglo-Saxon’ organizations [Barreñada, 1998:105]. It is legitimate to consider whether the sympathy of Spanish civil society for the Saharawi cause may have contributed to postponing and weakening cooperation with Morocco [Barreñada, 1998:106], The absence of SpanishMoroccan co-operation at the level of civil society may have debilitated this important channel of contribution to democratization processes. It is surprising to observe that Spanish NGOs, although they had been very active in Latin America, were practically absent from Morocco until recently, although Morocco had been highlighted as an official foreign policy priority from the early 1990s.


The figures are clear. In the chapter devoted to co-financing projects with NGOs during 1987–97 (in both modalities: tax income—IRPF—and ordinary income) aid to the Saharawi population represented 40 per cent of the SECIPI36 funds for the Maghreb.37 In contrast, only two NGOs had a permanent presence in Morocco before 1993: Manos Unidas and the Spanish Red Cross. To give an idea of the volume of this aid, the total amount of direct bilateral aid for the Tindouf camps in Algeria in 1995 was 175 million ptas. (approximately 1 million). This is an important amount if we consider the overall population of about 165,000 people compared with other destinations. Saharawis are also the major recipients of decentralized aid (in 1997, 81 per cent of all decentralized funds for the Maghreb). The co-operation with both entities (Morocco and the Saharawi camps) should not be considered mutually incompatible. In the past, it would seem that it was, but the situation is now changing. Owing to Spain’s historical responsibility in the area, both entities need Spanish collaboration. In this sense, it is important to maintain the volume of aid to the Saharawis and to extend co-operation with Morocco. In effect, co-operation with Morocco has increased significantly in recent years, and Morocco has become a leading recipient. The change of official geographical priorities began in 1990, when Morocco was included as a priority for programmes financed by income tax (IRPF) returns and in 1995 for the ordinary one.38 The SECIPI assignation of resources for cooperation in the mid-1990s had a direct influence on the massive arrival of NGOs in Morocco. The amount of resources increased in all the modalities: bilateral39 and multilateral.40 The Moroccan projects represent 34.6 per cent of the total funding for the Maghreb (between 1988 and 1997, 1,356 million ptas., more than 8 million), even though the contributions to the Western Sahara continue to be higher (39.4 per cent). As a whole, the evolution has been so impressive that currently Morocco occupies fourth place in the ranking of countries that receive Spanish bilateral ODA (after China, Honduras and Indonesia).41 This spectacular increase is due more to government incentives than to a change of mentality. Nevertheless, the massive arrival of resources for NGOs wanting to work in Morocco has brought a radical and indirect change in NGO activity. Other factors that have contributed to this change are: • The political liberalization in Morocco which facilitates the strengthening of civil society (the necessary counterparts for the Spanish NGOs); • The growing interest among Spanish youth in solidarity projects and strong public support for co-operation; • The increased capacity of Spanish NGOs in the 1990s owing to a healthier economic situation; and • The recent presence in Spain of Moroccan immigrants.


What has been the place of democracy and human rights promotion in this co-operation? In spite of the government affirmation that human rights must be a ‘horizontal paradigm’ of co-operation,42 the initiatives directed towards the promotion of good governance, institution-building and other democracy-related matters have been scarce in the case of the Arab world,43 while this type of co-operation is significant in the case of Latin America.44 In relation to Morocco, the status of this aspect of the various programmes refutes the affirmation that democratization is a ‘vital’ objective for Spain. In conformity with the general characteristics of Spanish co-operation policy, what is observed in the Moroccan case is: • An exorbitant weight of aid tied to Spanish commercial interests;45 • An over-representation of FAD credits;46 and • The conversion of debt into Spanish private investments.47 An excellent example of the link between development co-operation and economic interests is the large ‘Integrated Action Plan for the Planning and Development of the Mediterranean Region in Morocco’ (PAIDAR-Med) Project devoted to developing Morocco’s northern region.48 Co-operation projects designed directly to foster democratization and reinforce institutions are very limited and this objective is not listed among the main priorities sector by sector (although of course there is a reference to it). In spite of this, some modest initiatives have begun to be developed. In 1997 Spain gave technical and financial assistance for the preparation of elections.49 The 2000 report of the IV Mixed Commission on Scientific and Technical Co-operation (which plans direct bilateral co-operation) mentioned several departments of the Moroccan administration with which it would be convenient to co-operate, and a project of the Spanish General Council of the Judiciary and the Ministry of Justice to support the modernization of the Moroccan judicial system will soon be launched. In 2001 the overall amount spent on this subject was significant, according to official sources: 309 million ptas. (1.86 million), plus some 131 million ptas. for the empowerment of women (0.79 million).50 With reference to the co-financed modality in Morocco, another positive aspect is the existence of small and specific programmes aimed at strengthening civil society and developing institutions and good governance.51 The examples are not numerous but they are significant, especially the projects to reinforce associationalism. The issue of gender crosscutting represented 4.55 per cent of the co-financed projects during 1989–99, a modest but growing volume [Andreo Tuleda, 2002:143]. This positive tendency contrasts with signs of government reluctance to fund projects in more sensitive fields.


Perhaps it is within these projects that incongruities of the policy appear most clearly, due to the fact that different levels of action cannot be separated: the positive approach needs to be accompanied by signs of political will. Can it be effective to invest in reform of the judiciary if one fails to condemn specific cases of unfair trials? Can one collaborate with the independent press if one fails to protest when publications are banned or when a retrogressive press code is passed? Is it coherent policy to finance feminist associations while remaining silent about the reform of the Mudawana?52 What Spanish human rights foreign policy obviously needs is comprehensive planning with fixed priorities. The positive measures that have been taken are not effective by themselves, isolated from a more complex context. Conclusion This case study has served to focus on some of the main problems of Spain’s human rights foreign policy. The goals of this policy appear very ambitious in view of the low degree of institutionalization and consolidation of its mechanisms. Obviously there is a lack of consistency between the objectives declared and the policy implemented. For its part, the policy applied towards Morocco does not seem to be the most appropriate route to foster democratization in the country. The Moroccan political system stands at a decisive juncture, with grave deficiencies regarding the existence of political prisoners, the persistence of political trials, a failure to resolve the question of missing persons and the impunity of law-breakers. It is therefore essential to send its leaders a strong signal that Europe is not satisfied with the current situation, and that the road to be taken is that of full democratization. The exclusive use of positive instruments does not seem sufficient to promote this development. It has already been seen that, even with regard to these less risky instruments, there are important deficits that have begun to be corrected only recently. The future prospects do not appear to be much better. On the part of Spain, the tendency detected towards an ‘economization’ of foreign policy seems to relegate human rights still further as a driving force. At the international level, the securitization of international relations and, specifically, of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, seems to reinforce outdated images of the importance of maintaining the status quo and once again relegates the possibility of a more bold and dynamic approach to the question of democratization in the Mediterranean.


NOTES 1. Two examples are Cuba and Equatorial Guinea. During the first term of the People’s Party’s government (1996–2000), the official discourse relating to Cuba was very critical of Fidel Castro’s regime; the Spanish Ministry of Foreign Affairs announced in November 1998 a system of ‘permanent consultations’ on human rights with its Cuban counterpart. In the Equatorial Guinea case, some Spanish coercive measures were taken in response to human right violations by the Guinean regime, but the discovery of new oilfields in the African country led to a change of orientation of Spanish foreign policy. 2. The information used in this study is based on 12 interviews conducted in 2002 with four Ministry of Foreign Affairs officials (one from the Human Rights Office, the Secretary of State for European Affairs, an official from the Mediterranean, Middle East and Africa Directorate and the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs), four officials in the Spanish embassy in Rabat (interviewed in 1993 and 2002), two parliamentarians (from the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, PSOE, and the Catalan nationalist party, Convergence and Union (CiU), one NGO representative (from Amnesty International in Spain) and one businessman. 3. The concept of human security recognizes the interrelationship between the various elements of insecurity, including human rights violations. In essence, human security means freedom from pervasive threats to people’s rights, their safety or even their lives [Sánchez Cano, 1999]. 4. According to Francisco Villar, Secretary General for Foreign Policy, in Boletín Oficial de las Cortes Generales (BOCG), Congress of Deputies, 21 Dec. 1994. 5. Although both countries can be considered middle powers, the main differences between the Spanish and the French models are the resources available, and the major presence of an active civil society in France. 6. In 1992 the governments of both Spain and France opposed the freezing of the fourth financial protocol with Morocco as demanded by the European Parliament on the grounds of human rights abuses (Western Sahara policy, political prisoners). Both countries also rejected a human rights maximalist approach in the Barcelona Declaration in 1995 and in the Common Strategy of the EU on the Mediterranean Region, in 2000. 7. According to a public opinion poll conducted by the Centre for Sociological Research (CIS) and published in Boletín 20 (April-June 1999), 36 per cent of those interviewed declared that they had little or no interest in foreign affairs. 8. Informe de la Subcomisón relativa al 50° aniversario de la Declaración Universal de Derechos Humanos (BOCG, 25 June 1999), núm. expediente 154/000023. I. 9. After a broadly-based campaign directed by Amnesty International, Greenpeace, Médicos sin Fronteras and Intermón, and sustained by several hundreds of associations, the Junta Interministerial Reguladora del Comercio Exterior de Defensa y de Doble Uso (JIMMDU, an inter-ministerial committee made up of representatives of the ministries of Economics and


10. 11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

Foreign Affairs and other departments) reports annually to Parliament on the overall volume of the Spanish arms trade, classified in broad categories. Amnistía Internacional, Informe de política exterior y derechos humanos del gobierno español, Madrid: AI. This motion stated that the solution to the Western Sahara conflict must be based on self-determination as stipulated in the United Nations peace plan of 1991, and that both parties must accept the solution. In other words, it rejected any imposition of a solution on the Polisario Front, even though the correlation of forces is now against it. Moreover, the PP has not shown itself to be as active regarding the Sahara as other parties, even though in the present international conjuncture it is seen as being opposed to the Moroccan positions. See Eloy Martín Corrales’ well-documented study on Spanish perceptions of Maghreb inhabitants throughout recent history, especially the chapters devoted to the Western Sahara [Martín Corrales, 2002]. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Netherlands, ‘Human Rights and Foreign Policy’, memorandum presented to the Lower House of the States General of the Kingdom of the Netherlands on 3 May 1979 by the foreign minister and the minister for development co-operation. The memorandum has been updated several times. One of the most complete documents is the text of the speech by the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Miquel Nadal, at a reception for Spanish ambassadors, 10 Sept. 2001. Such reports can be produced by official departments, like the Country Reports on Human Rights Practices in the USA, or by private institutions, like the reports written in the Scandinavian countries. The European Union Human Rights Report cannot be considered a document of the same type as it does not describe the human rights situation in the EU’s partner countries. Taking into consideration that these clauses might tarnish the European image if they are not going to be applied, for example in the case of Israel, Youngs suggests that the clauses are a ‘a priori value conditionality’ [Youngs, 2002:49]. Foreign minister, Abel Matutes, at a meeting of the Foreign Affairs Committee (CAE), Congreso de los Diputados, Diario de Sesiones 754, 29 Sept. 1999, p.22159. The 2000 confidential Memoria of the Spanish embassy states that although there have been positive improvements in recent years, ‘the many advances experimented have been occasionally disturbed by measures that must be interpreted as a clear retrogression’, and describes the Moroccan regime as authoritarian. The discourse attributes to Mohamed VI the promulgation of a general amnesty and the release of the political prisoners. Furthermore it assesses positively the new press code, although this retains prison sentences for press offences. This positive perception of the King does not consider, for example, the role of the Ministry of Religious Affairs in 2001 in blocking the government’s plan to reform the status of women. This ministry is directly connected to the Palace.


22. See the statements of the newly appointed foreign minister, Ana Palacio, at a meeting of the Commission on Foreign Affairs in the Congreso de los Diputados (La Vanguardia, 24 July 2002). 23. Quiet diplomacy cannot be verified, but the press is a good indicator of the temperature of official meetings. 24. See, for example, the manifesto of the communist-led United Left (IU). 25. Morocco does not give information on its arms sales to the Conventional Arms Register nor to the UN’s Military Expenditure Register. In 1999, Morocco spent five per cent of its GNP on military items while its foreign debt stood at 60.3 per cent of GNP. The Armed Forces represent 0.71 per cent of the population, a high figure compared with other developing countries. Morocco has not signed the Treaty of Ottawa banning landmines and is buying a lot of antipersonnel mines in the context of the current conflict over the Western Sahara [Luz Alvarez, 2001:126–7]. 26. Captain Mustafa Adib wrote a letter in 1998 to King Mohamed VI to inform him of corruption among some army high commands. An initial inquiry led to the dismissal of those involved and cleared Adib of any wrongdoing, but subsequently in December 1999 he was arrested, after being quoted in the French daily Le Monde. A trial in February 2000 led to his conviction and a five-year prison term on charges of ‘insulting the Royal Armed Forces’. After Adib went on hungar strike in May, the Supreme Court finally acted on his appeal; the court sentenced him to two-and-a-half years of imprisonment. 27. I have access to the confidential embassy report (Memoria) of 2000. It mentions the concern of the Embassy over the imprisonment of members of the Moroccan Human Rights Association (AMDH), nowadays the most active and credible human rights association in Morocco. This seems to contradict the statement of Miquel Nadal in Parliament that no one should judge the judicial decisions of another country. ‘Comparecencia del señor Secretario de estado de Asuntos Exteriores, Miquel Nadal Segala, ante la Comisión correspondiente del Senado para contestar a las preguntas del senador José Cabrero Palomares. Del Grupo Mixto’ (BOCG 182, 15 Oct. 2001). In the same Memoria there is no reference, for example, to the closing down of the three most important independent magazines, Le Journal, Demain and Assahifa at the end of 2000. 28. In June 2001 the Foreign Ministry decided to create the figure of a ‘human rights officer’ in all Spanish embassies, but failed to provide them with additional funding and staff. Nevertheless, the instruction given to these new officials could be a positive step for the promotion of human rights. 29. The terrorist attacks in Casablanca on 16 May 2003 were used to justify the regime’s authoritarian stance. A new anti-terrorist law was approved as a matter of emergency and the first death sentences have been handed down for Islamic militants who had been in prison several months before the events and played no direct part in violent crimes. 30. An Alí Lmrabet support committee was formed in May and staged various demonstrations in front of the Moroccan Embassy in Madrid and the consulates in Seville and Barcelona, as well as taking a number of initiatives (manifestos, letters to authorities, gathering of signatures, organization of an exhibition, publication of a book, etc.). The journalists’ professional


31.

32.

33. 34.

35. 36.

37.

38. 39.

associations and trade unions (particularly in Catalonia and Andalusia) have been particularly active, as have the Reporteros sin Fronteras sections in Spain, among others. The issue has featured on the front page of several Spanish daily newspapers (on 22 May, following the first-instance sentence), and El País, ABC, El Mundo and Avui have devoted several editorials to it. The PP agreed to ask the Moroccan Ministry of Justice to be allowed to visit Alí Lmrabet on 25 July (at the Rabat hospital, where he has been convalescing after coming off a 50-day hunger strike) together with representatives from PSOE, IU (Izquierda Unida—communist party) and CiU (Convergencia i Unio —Catalan party), taking advantage of a stay in Morocco at the invitation of the Istiqlal Party. The Moroccan authorities did not reply to the request. The PP in Catalonia made their support for an institutional declaration of support for Alí Lmrabet at the plenary meeting of Barcelona City Hall dependent upon inclusion also of the case of imprisoned Cuban journalists. In the end, however, after a stormy council session, it agreed to sign the declaration in its original form. At the meeting of 5 June in Toledo, the two leaders stated their wish to ‘set relations between the two countries back on a firmer footing’ following a profound crisis that had lasted 20 months. After the meeting, at which there was discussion on terrorism and the Western Sahara issue, Aznar recognized that there had been a climate of understanding, although that ‘does not mean that we share the same views on everything’ (El País, 6 June 2003). EFE, 4 June 2003. See Fernando Villalonga, Secretary of State for International Co-operation and for Latin America, at a meeting of the CAE, Congreso de los Diputados, Diario de Sesiones 819 (15 Dec. 1999), p.24363. Spain was a recipient of foreign aid until 1977 and joined the Development Assistance Committee (DAC) of the OECD as recently as 1991. The State Secretariat for International Co-operation and Latin America (SECIPI) of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) is responsible for the management and co-ordination of international co-operation policy. AECI is the main executive agency responsible for the management of the major part of ODA grants and micro-finance loans. The AECI (Spanish Agency for International Co-operation) is attached to the MFA through SECIPI. According to Barreñada it has become more difficult for NGOs from 1997 onwards (under the PP) to get access to public resources directed towards the Western Sahara [Barreñada, 1998:106]. In Spain a proportion of personal income tax returns may be destined to finance co-operation projects, if the taxpayer so wishes. With regard to bilateral co-operation, we must distinguish between direct, cofinanced and decentralized co-operation projects and programmes. Direct ODA for Morocco amounted to 1,000 million ptas. in 2000 (6 million), a figure double the amount earmarked for co-financed projects. With respect to such projects, the list of NGO projects (ordinary and tax income IRPF) has grown spectacularly since 1995. The overall co-financing increase has been from 3,200 million ptas. and 143 projects in 1994 to 10,000 million and 321 projects in 1995, a spectacular increase of 216 per cent. The figures subsequently reached 13,000 million in 2000.


40. Mulitlateral co-operation is conducted mainly through the EU, and more recently through international financial institutions (IFIs). 41. DAC, Development Co-operation Review: Spain, 2002, p.25. 42. The main Spanish co-operation documents include the promotion of human rights and democratization as a core objective. See the Law for International Development Co-operation of 1998, or the Management Plan for Spanish Cooperation for 2001–4. 43. The 2002 DAC Report on Spain puts the proportion of ODA directed to democratic improvement at seven per cent (DAC, Development Co-operation Review: Spain, p.25). 44. One in six AECI projects in Latin America is related to good governance and institutional development: judicial and legislative reform, administrative reform (including decentralization), tax administration and financial sector reform and the training of police forces. These kinds of projects have been supported in some eastern European countries and in African countries such as Mozambique. 45. Spain has one of the highest rates of tied aid although its proportion has fallen from 74 per cent in 1998 to 53 per cent in 2000. 46. The FAD (Development Aid Fund) loans provide developing countries with soft loans tied to the purchase of Spanish goods and services. This instrument has a dual nature and is generally combined with export credits offering less favourable conditions. After criticism from Spanish civil society groups and from the Development Assistance Committee of the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (which considers the FAD to be an instrument mainly aimed at export promotion rather than development), the Ministry of the Economy has reduced the overall amount of the FAD component and has increased the grant element. 47. Debt relief, non-existent prior to 1993, has become an increasingly important part of Spanish ODA in recent years. In 1996 it reached ten per cent, twice the DAC average. Since 1996 both Spain and France have authorized debtequity swaps extending to 20 per cent of Morocco’s eligible Club of Paris debt. 48. On 8 May, during a ceremony, Aznar presented Moroccan prime minister Youssoufi with the results of Spain’s PAIDAR study. The Moroccan authorities have accepted the plan as a basis for government projects in the area with the participation of Spanish companies. 49. BOCG 125, 26 Jan. 2001, in Revista de Actividades, textos y documentos 2001, Madrid: Oficina de Información Diplomática, p.893. 50. BOCG 286, 22 Nov. 2001. 51. Privileged sectors of the co-financing projects in Morocco have been capacitybuilding, health, integral development and rural development. 52. The Mudawana is a Moroccan code that regulates private relations in accordance with religious law.


REFERENCES Andreo Tuleda, J.C. (2002): ‘Nuevos espacios de solidaridad: la intervención de las ONGD españolas en el marco de la cooperación con Marruecos’, Revista Española de Desarrollo y Cooperación 10, pp.133–51. Baehr, P.R. (1996): The Role of Human Rights in Foreign Policy, London: Macmillan. Barreñada, I. (1998): ‘La cooperación no gubernamental española en el Magreb’, Revista Española de Desarrollo y Cooperación 2, pp.101–25. Buzan, B., O.Wæver and J.de Wilde (1996): Security: A New Framework for Analysis, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Donnelly, J. (1998): International Human Rights, Boulder, CO and Oxford: Westview. Feliu, L. (2001): ‘Human Rights and the Barcelona Process’, in F.Attinà and S.Stravidis (eds.), The Barcelona Process and Euro-Mediterranean Issues from Stuttgart to Marseille, Milan: Giuffrè. Feliu, L. and M.Salomón (2003): ‘Territorios en aguas turbulentas: La crisis entre España y Marruecos’, Revue Paix et sécurité internationales (Morocco) 1, pp.79–90. Forsythe, D.P (ed.) (2000): Human Rights and Comparative Foreign Policy, Tokyo: United Nations University Press. Gillespie, R. (1995): ‘España y el Magreb: una vía posible de política regional’, in R.Gillespie, F.Rodrigo and J.Story (eds.), Las relaciones exteriores de la España democrática, Madrid: Alianza. Gillespie, R. (2000): ‘Spain and Morocco’, in Gillespie, Spain and the Mediterranean: Developing a European Policy Towards the South, Basingstoke and New York: Macmillan/St Martin’s Press. Gillespie, R. and R.Youngs (eds.) (2002): The European Union and Democracy Promotion: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Gillies, D. (1996): Between Principle and Practice: Human Rights in North-South Relations, Montreal and Kingston: McGill/Queen’s University Press. Hernando de Larramendi, M. and J.A.Núñez (1996): La política exterior y de cooperación de España en el Magreb (1982–1995), Madrid: La Catarata, IUDC/ UCM. Hill, D.M. (ed.) (1989): Human Rights and Foreign Policy: Principles and Practice, Basingstoke: Macmillan. López García, B. (1992): ‘España-Magreb: el porvenir de una vecindad’, in López García (ed.), España-Magreb, siglo XXI: el porvenir de una vecindad, Madrid: Mapfre. López García, B. and M.Hernando de Larramendi (2002): ‘Spain and North Africa: Towards a “Dynamic Stability”’, in Gillespie and Youngs [2002]. Luz Álvarez, D. (2001): ‘La venta de armas a Marruecos. A Marruecos no se le ayuda vendiendo armas’, El vuelo de Ícaro 1, pp.115–30. Marquina Barrio, A. (2000): ‘Las relaciones con los estados del Magreb, 1975– 1986’, in J. Tusell, J.Avilés and R.Pardo (eds.), La política exterior de España en el siglo XX, Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, UNED. Martín Corrales, E. (2002): La imagen del magrebí en España, Barcelona: Bellaterra.


Maynard, E.S. (1989): ‘The Bureaucracy and Implementation of U.S. Human Rights Policy’, Human Rights Quarterly 11/2, pp.211–32. Pi, M. (2000): ‘Los derechos humanos en la acción exterior de la Unión Europea’, in E.Barbé (ed.), La política exterior de la Unión Europea, Barcelona: Ariel. Sánchez Cano, J. (1999): El Debate sobre el concepto de seguridad (1980–1997), Barcelona: Institut de Ciències Polítiques i Socials. Soler i Lecha, E. and R.Weltner-Puig (2002): ‘Diálogo euromediterráneo: ¿Una segunda oportunidad?’, paper for the Instituto de Estudios Europeos, Barcelona, UAB. Subirats, J. (ed.) (1999): ¿Existe sociedad civil en España? Responsabilidades y valores públicos, Madrid: Fundación Encuentro. Vincent, R.J. (1989): ‘Human Rights in Foreign Policy’, in D.M.Hill (ed.), Human Rights and Foreign Policy: Principles and Practice, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Youngs, R. (2002): ‘The European Union and Democracy Promotion in the Mediterranean: A New or Disingenuous Strategy?’ in Gillespie and Youngs (eds.) [2002].

7 The External Dimension of Sub-national Governments: Dealing with Human Rights at the Barcelona and Valencia Euromed Civil Fora EDUARD SOLER I LECHA The Barcelona Declaration of 1995, the founding act of the EuroMediterranean Partnership (EMP), formalized a widely accepted link between the promotion of human rights and the existence of a wellorganized civil society. Recognition of the role of civil society has been one of the most original features of the Barcelona Process. The reference to civil society in the Barcelona Declaration suggested that neither states nor international organizations are the sole legitimate actors in international politics. It also made it easier to introduce new issues such as those relating to human rights promotion onto the Euro-Mediterranean agenda. Among the emerging actors in international relations, there are not only non-governmental organizations (NGOs) but also actors like sub-national governments (of regions and cities), whose nature or behaviour is sometimes closer to that of states and at other times closer to that of civil society. They are part of the state but they can act autonomously of central government. Although they are often confused with civil society by some decision-makers,1 and sometimes have mutual interests or use similar instruments, they are not part of civil society, at least not in the narrowest sense of the term.2 This hybrid character is a factor that might favour the process of democratization in the Mediterranean area. On the one hand, they introduce the idea of pluralism when thinking about the structure of the state and, on the other hand, they facilitate the relationship between civil society and central government. The first part of this contribution explores the theoretical basis of subnational governments’ ‘actorness’ in the international arena and the challenges of democratization and decentralization in the Mediterranean region. The second part concentrates on two case studies: the two Civil Fora celebrated in conjunction with two Euro-Mediterranean Conferences, the first held in Barcelona in 1995 and the most recent in Valencia in 2002.3 An attempt will be made to identify the key factors that resulted in two different views on the role of civil society and the place of human rights being adopted by the Catalan and the Valencian regional administrations during the respective Civil Fora. The results of this study


reveal that there is a significant gap between theory and reality and also between sub-national governments’ rhetoric and their real policies. Some Preliminary Ideas about the Role of Sub-national Governments in International Relations Sub-national governments, as well as NGOs, have been defined as emerging actors, even as new actors, in international politics, posing a threat to the nation-states’ monopoly of international relations. Some have attempted to explain this as a result of the crisis of the nation-state model, or more specifically as a result of the erosion of the principle of national sovereignty through the increasing distribution of competencies between ‘national’, ‘supranational’ and ‘sub-national’ levels [Duchacek, Latouche and Stevenson, 1988]. Some have interpreted this phenomenon as being a consequence of the extension of decentralization processes within states in order to satisfy autonomy claims [Keating, 1999]. Others believe that this new situation has emerged from the contemporary political context: the end of the cold war and the growth of identity demands [Laïdi, 2001] or from the economic structure of a globalized world [Ohmae, 1996]. Whatever the causes, at the present time sub-national governments are broadly recognized as actors in the international system, although their external activities never reach the level of foreign policy because of their partial and functional nature. In this sense, some scholars have introduced new terms such as ‘paradiplomacy’ [Keating, 1999] to define the phenomenon.4 Even though the international engagement of sub-national governments is more important nowadays than it was a few decades ago, there are important historical precedents, such as the campaigns undertaken by some municipalities against the Vietnam War or against the apartheid regime in South Africa [Alger, 1990:505–12]. One specific form of international activity by non-central governments has been their interaction with international NGOs, which are paradigmatic examples of decentralized cooperation [Hocking, 1999:22]. All parties benefit from this relationship: on the one hand, NGOs have diversified and increased their public income; on the other hand, the strengthening of this kind of co-operation has allowed sub-national governments to operate more effectively in the international arena. Although the latter was not legally allowed in countries like Spain, central governments proved incapable of hindering such popular action. The assumption of international tasks by some sub-national units has been possible owing to a number of factors: the existence of a real demand for international projection by these units, especially in non-homogeneous states; pressure from supranational bodies like the EU; and the political willingness of some states to share the political space with regional and

116 HUMAN RIGHTS AT BARCELONA AND VALENCIA CIVIL FORA

local governments, even in the international arena. However, nation-states have retained their monopoly on high politics, including areas such as defence and juridical accords. Hence, the historical background and the lack of involvement of sub-national governments in these complex issues have usually moulded their positive approach to human rights and civil society issues. The EMP has not been an exception to this general trend, but it does present some particularities. Democratization and Decentralization in the Mediterranean All the phenomena described above are limited to democratic systems. In direct contrast to this trend, authoritarian regimes strictly control dissident voices and prevent the emergence of autonomous centres of power within their countries. Thus, when a democratization process begins, the centralized character of the state often tends to be reduced and some plurinational countries even take the path of dismemberment. Many indicators in the economic, social and political fields show a growing gap between the northern and southern countries of the Mediterranean. The ‘common sea’ seems to have become a ‘geopolitical fault’ [Barbé, 1999b: 221] and this is particularly true when analysing democratization standards. Moreover, while democratization is often perceived as an objective in itself, it is also a factor that has important effects on economic growth, investment attraction and stability [Jerch and Lorca Corrons, 2002]. Thus, the interdependence between the three baskets of the Barcelona Declaration seems quite clear. During the last 30 years, democratization processes have reached southern and eastern Europe, Latin America and some African countries. However, most Arab countries, with few exceptions, have not experimented the same evolution [Schmitter, 2001]. In fact, authoritarian regimes rule in most parts of the Arab world, although there are important differences, for example, between Saudi Arabia and Morocco, the latter having experienced democratic advances since the 1990s. In some parts of the Arab world, violations of human rights have increased since the last decade and many obstacles have been put in the path of the emergence of an autonomous civil society.5 At the same time, authoritarian regimes are usually suspicious of the threat that could arise from strong local and regional powers. This partially explains the weakness or lack of subnational governments in the southern and eastern countries of the Mediterranean basin. Nevertheless, this does not mean that it is impossible to develop civil society or local power in Arab countries. On the contrary, although some authors dismiss the potential for evolution of Arab civil societies because of their political culture, the facts show that, for example, NGOs have grown


in number and importance since the 1970s.6 However, it is not a common characteristic of the Arab countries: some have strong civil society networks that are growing, while in other cases NGOs are tightly controlled by the governments or, quite paradoxically, even ‘created’ by them. While totalitarian regimes would not allow any civil society at all, authoritarian ones like Arab ruling governments would tolerate its emergence, but only in some fields and under strict governmental control. Local and regional powers in the Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs) have experienced a varied evolution. For example, regionalization projects, where they have existed, have been conceived just as instruments to improve state control over the country.7 Besides this situation, ethnic and linguistic groups, such as the Kabyles (Berbers) from Algeria, still challenge their central governments by practising civil disobedience, even adopting their own forms of government which are not recognized by the state.8 This kind of revolt recalls the debate about nation-building and the pertinence of assabiya9 models in social and political organizations in the Arab world [Salamé, 1994: 16–21], In this debate, the very specific characteristics of Arab states are quite relevant Modern Arab states face several problems such as the challenge of a heterogeneous population, the lack of legitimacy of a certain elite, the transposition of the administrative colonialist heritage through the Arab tradition of consensus (ijma) and so on.10 All these factors might tend to reinforce a model of unitary and centralized states with strong control over all dissenting voices within their societies. Along the northern shores of the Mediterranean the evolution has been quite different. Parallel to a civil society that has grown in the European countries and has attained a political and social role, decentralization processes, more or less deep, have become a constant element in their political evolution. Examples include Spain, where sub-national governments have important competencies and have developed an active international projection,11 and France where, in spite of being the paradigm of a centralized state, a regionalization policy has been implemented since 1982. Furthermore, during recent decades an increasing tendency to launch cross-border organizations involving these sub-national governments can be observed in the northern Mediterranean countries,12 while its extension to the MPCs has been more difficult and slower.13 The MPCs’ authoritarian regimes mistrust Euro-Mediterranean cooperation at the level of civil societies and local governments. They are afraid that this could undermine their control of the public and private spheres. In contrast, this kind of co-operation is very much appreciated among decision-makers in southern Europe because it can support democratization processes in the MPCs [Giraudon: 1999]. Decentralization processes in these countries are considered useful instruments to favour the development of real democracies using a bottom-up approach [Bekkouche,


2000:150–51]. More specifically, decentralization is one of the elements included in the definition of ‘governance’; a term which, however, has been criticized by some authors when applied to Arab societies because of its normative and prescriptive character [Ben Néfissa, 2000]. The Link between Sub-national Governments and Human Rights in the EMP Before the Barcelona Declaration, the main contribution of non-central governments to Mediterranean relations was their participation in the MED-Urbs projects [Rahmani and Bekkouche, 1995]. Even if the MED programmes, MED-Urbs included, did not focus on the promotion of human rights or democracy, this was subtly implied by their efforts to strengthen municipal powers, export local democracy models and improve personal contacts between municipal decision-makers around the Mediterranean. However, Med-Urbs was suspended after a negative report by the Court of Auditors of the European Community on the grounds of management difficulties, this being one of the cases that sank Santer’s Commission. While some authors [Balta: 2000:72] considered that these programmes had produced excellent results, others held the view that ‘democratization cannot realistically be conceived of as an objective of these programmes. On the contrary, the extension of civil liberties by the governments of the recipient countries is a precondition for these programmes to be implemented’ [Giammusso, 1999:26]. As has already been said in the introduction, the Barcelona Declaration represented an important innovation in the external relations of the EU because human rights reached a prominent place in the political basket and also because civil society was envisaged as making an essential contribution to the EMP. In particular, since the main aim of the third basket of the EMP is to ‘bring people closer, to promote understanding between cultures and to improve the perception of the other’ [Panebianco, 2001:106], it promises a strengthening of decentralized co-operation projects. Nevertheless, in the Barcelona Declaration there was no specific reference to sub-national units because they were, and often still are, considered part of civil society. This simplification may be perceived as a great mistake, for like central governments, sub-national governments are a part of the state structure, contributing to the heterogeneous and complex character of the state. This perception has been corrected somewhat in the Valencia Action Plan adopted in 2002, which contains a specific reference to co-operation involving local units.14 Within the EMP framework, sub-national governments and civil society can be allies, for example when trying to find a space in a traditional state system or when trying to improve human rights in the Mediterranean region.15 However, sub-national governments may also be allies or even


instruments of the central government, especially if they are in the hands of the same political party or have weak powers. Moreover, some subnational units are deeply conditioned by economic interests and when allied with these interests the commitment to human rights promotion may be weaker. Sub-national commitment to the promotion of human rights has been motivated mainly by two factors: their consciousness of development and democratization challenges in the region and, more important, their wish to acquire an international reputation. However, those sub-national administrations that do try to implement a human rights policy vis-à-vis the MPCs lack the instruments of the state and therefore have to search for other channels to act in the Mediterranean arena, for example, through the Euro-Med Civil Forum. The Civil Forum was originally a project of both the Catalan government and the European Commission designed to bring Mediterranean civil society actors together. One of its aims is to discuss Euro-Mediterranean issues from the perspective of civil society and to present proposals to the Euro-Mediterranean authorities; another aim is to increase contacts between Euro-Mediterranean civil society actors, for example through the constitution of thematic networks. The first Civil Forum, held in Barcelona in November 1995 and organized and coordinated by the Institut Català de la Mediterrània, was the main contribution of the Catalan regional government to the Spanish EU Presidency of 1995. Since that Forum, other European regional and local governments have engaged in the organization of similar events: in Naples and Malta in 1997, in Stuttgart in 1999, in Marseille in 2000, in Brussels in 2001 and in Valencia in 2002. Since 1995, the Civil Fora have experienced an interesting evolution.16 Step by step they have become more independent of public powers, especially since the Stuttgart Forum in 1999.17 It was at this Forum that the agenda gained a more political slant compared to the economic and cultural perspectives that had dominated in Barcelona, Naples and Malta. Moreover, it was at Stuttgart that some thematic networks, for example in the realm of human rights protection, were strengthened [Jünemann, 2002: 98–101]. However, Stuttgart can be described as a highpoint, that is to say, no Forum since has reached a similar level of concern regarding human rights, or such a degree of political autonomy. Since Stuttgart, co-ordination with public powers has weakened, as seen in the Brussels Forum,18 and the budget of the Civil Forum has decreased to the same extent. Moreover, the fact that some administrations have tried to organize new forums alongside the Civil Forum, as was the case of Valencia, shows an increasing distancing between public administrations and officially-endorsed civil society, on the one hand, and autonomous civil society, on the other hand.


A complete overview of Mediterranean activities at the sub-national level cannot be provided without mentioning also certain activities that take place beyond the multilateral framework of the Civil Forum and the MED programmes. The most visible and frequent examples of bilateral cooperation are agreements on city twinning. But there are other much more controversial bilateral activities, at sub-national level, which may shape or influence the bilateral relations between countries at the national level. In recent times, Spain has experienced two such situations, which endangered its relations with Turkey and Morocco: first, when the Basque Parliament invited members of the Kurdish separatist movement PKK to visit and, more recently, when Andalusia’s regional and local authorities collaborated with a non-official referendum on self-determination for the Western Sahara.19 Sometimes, sub-national actors undertake these kinds of initiatives in response to the demands made by associations. Two Case Studies The cases studied in this contribution are the Catalan and the Valencian involvement during two Euro-Mediterranean ministerial conferences in 1995 and in 2002, mainly in so far as the organization of the Civil Forum was concerned. In spite of some similarities, they also displayed patterns of behaviour that were quite different. The Catalan authorities were more independent than the Valencian ones vis-à-vis the Spanish government. Furthermore, comparing the two cases, a significant difference may be observed between the involvement of the two regions in the Mediterranean area. Catalonia and Valencia also had different perspectives on cooperation with civil society actors and this influenced agenda-setting, particularly with regard to human rights topics. To complete the analysis, some contextual factors will also be taken into account in what follows below. After describing the context of both events, the analysis will focus on three main aspects: (1) Do the two sub-national actors have a Mediterranean policy and if so, what are their interests? (2) What kinds of interactions are there between sub-national governments and the associative movement, the economic sector and other governmental actors? (3) How have all these factors influenced the place given to human rights issues in the Civil Fora?


Barcelona 1995: The Foundation Stone The Spanish Constitution gives external relations competence exclusively to the central government. Nevertheless, Spanish Autonomous Communities (or regions), as well as some important municipalities, have increasingly participated in the sphere of international activity, exploiting the fact that the concept of external relations is not defined in the Constitution. Thus, the Constitutional Court has been able in its jurisprudence to gradually shift from a centralist criterion to a more flexible one. This fact, in addition to the strong political will of some regional leaders, has put Spanish regions and cities on top of the list of those sub-national units that have an internationalization policy [García Segura, 1995]. The Euro-Mediterranean Conference in Barcelona and all its parallel events can be analysed as a framework within which the Catalan and Barcelona administrations sought to develop some kind of foreign policy. The mandate given to the Catalan regional government to organize a Civil Forum has been perceived as a reward for Catalan nationalist support for the Spanish Socialist government [Hernando de Larramendi, 1997:36]. In fact, prime minister Felipe González’s Socialist Party (PSOE) was in a parliamentary minority and needed the support of the Catalan nationalist party in order to govern.20 Elections were to be held just one year later, in 1996, and the conservative People’s Party (PP) was considered the most probable winner. Thus, the PSOE saw the Spanish EU Presidency as a ‘lifesaver’ and the Euro-Mediterranean Conference became one of its main events.21 Consequently, there was a good co-operative relationship between the central and the regional administrations. Moreover, the Catalan administration and especially its president, Jordi Pujol, had a deep international and European projection right from the beginning. Its aim was twofold: on the one hand, the promotion of a national, linguistic and cultural identity, and on the other hand, the internationalization of the Catalan economy. However, the idea of holding a Civil Forum and its final design were linked to two other major contextual factors. First, the optimism following the Oslo agreements on the Middle East and second, the coherence of perceptions and interests between the Catalan administration and the European Commission concerning the role of civil society within the EMP.22 Furthermore, Catalan civil society was and still is one of the strongest in Spain and one of those that has developed a notable international projection, particularly in the Mediterranean area. Taken together, the Euro-Mediterranean Conference and its Civil Forum were a perfect example of international co-operation at several levels of government [Morata, 1996:110–11]. Catalan, Spanish and European administrations worked together, thus avoiding direct antagonism between the Civil Forum and the ministerial conference. Nevertheless, there was


some rivalry between the regional and the local administration, even at a personal level. Jordi Pujol and Barcelona’s former mayor, Pasqual Maragall, were the torch-bearers of two different, opposing visions of Europe: a Europe of regions and a Europe of cities.23 The EMP conference in Barcelona also became a site for this competition. While the regional government organized the Civil Forum, the City Council hosted a parallel conference of Euro-Mediterranean cities. Officially, the two events were presented as complementary but in practice there was real competition to obtain the attention of the media. It thus makes sense for this contribution to devote attention to the analysis of regional strategies. The reason for this choice is the fact that regional governments have been behind the design of the Civil Forum, and its meetings have been considered the main arena—or at least one of the most significant—when dealing with civil society and human rights in the EMP. In this context, it is interesting to ask what specific place the Catalan administration has allocated to the Mediterranean on its international agenda. The Catalan government has developed a Mediterranean policy at least since the creation in 1989 of the Institut Català de la Mediterrània.24 However, the Mediterranean dimension of Catalan’s external activity has been generally centred around its north-western zone, particularly southern France, northern Italy and Spain’s other Mediterranean regions, that is, the so-called ‘Latin Mediterranean’. This area was seen as a space that shared a body of values, a lifestyle and a cultural heritage—an idea that can be seen as the recreation of a Latin community of destiny with a long tradition, on both sides of the Pyrenees, during the nineteenth century and the first decades of the twentieth.25 This sort of cultural tradition had been inspired by the Greco-Roman heritage and saw the Arabs (or Moors) as strangers who brought dislocation to this inner sea.26 This clear construction of ‘otherness’ has tended to be substituted by an increasing interest in the Maghreb and by an ambiguous Mediterranean-oriented discourse, whose culmination was the 1995 events. Despite the importance of these historical and cultural elements, other factors such as economic interests or the quest for political prestige have been even more decisive. Catalonia has an open economy with strong commercial activity. Europe and Latin America are the priority areas of its economic activity. Thus the Mediterranean (at least its southern and eastern shores) is only a secondary objective of Catalonia’s commercial activity. Nevertheless, some advances have been made, albeit concentrated in Morocco and, to a lesser extent, Tunisia.27 The coincidence of three factors, a common ‘Mediterranean’ cultural background, economic interests and a strong political will to act in the international arena, explains the particular design of the Barcelona Civil Forum. The Catalan government asked the Institut Català de la Mediterrània, one of its dependent bodies, to organize the event. Despite its


governmental character, this institute tends to consider itself as part of civil society, in the broader sense of the term.28 It was also a centre that had developed an important level of activity in the Mediterranean (especially in the western basin) already and that had built up an important network of contacts, which facilitated the organizational aspect of the Forum. The fact that in 1995 there had been no previous Civil Forum can be seen as a handicap, but also as a perfect opportunity since it gave the organizers the chance to design the gathering according to their own interests. The Catalan government decided to invest a lot of supplementary resources and efforts in this event, in order to maximize impact and publicity. Some big enterprises decided to support it too and, as a consequence, a significant number of the workshops dealt with economic issues and accounted for most of the financial resources.29 Two ideas favoured this economic bias: on the one hand, the conviction that economic development was absolutely necessary for the success of the Barcelona Process and, more generally, for the future and security of the Mediterranean basin; and, on the other hand, the hope that Catalonia would be able to expand its economic interests in this area, thus favouring the links between economic sectors around the Mediterranean. The emphasis placed on economic issues pushed into the background subjects like human rights and democratization. However, they were present in workshops addressing issues such as cultural dialogue, the situation of women and migration. A case in point was the proposal of the workshop on cultural dialogue to organize a special conference on human rights the following year. Dissatisfied with the economic slant of the Barcelona Civil Forum, and also with the dominant role of the Catalan government in the event, some organizations decided to organize a Mediterranean Alternative Conference. Unlike the official EMP Forum, debates in this forum concentrated on social and political issues and it was organized and presented as a strictly civil affair.30 Thus, two different forums were held. In the official one, human rights topics received very little emphasis, while in the alternative event they occupied a prominent position. It seemed as though there had been a sort of division of labour arranged between the two events. What interested the Catalan government did not interest the Alternative Conference promoters and vice versa. The Catalan administration had decided to get involved in the newly evolving Euro-Mediterranean Partnership. It had interests in the Mediterranean, considered itself part of this vast region and, moreover, was capable of mobilizing Catalan and Spanish firms behind the Civil Forum project. But, returning to one of the central questions posed in this study, was the Catalan government an ally of civil society? Certainly yes, if we define civil society in the broader sense of the term, that is to say, if it is not restricted to the associative movements. Moreover, the Civil Forum


combined this alliance with close co-operation with the central and the European administrations and with the economic sector. All of this, in conjunction with the contextual elements, helps explain the low priority of human rights in Barcelona’s Forum discussions. Seven Years Later: Valencia 2002 Seven years after the first Euro-Mediterranean Conference, Valencia was the city designated to host the fifth such event. If Barcelona had coincided with the second Spanish EU Presidency, Valencia coincided with the third. However, both the internal and the European context were quite different this time. The Mediterranean optimism of 1995 was almost forgotten, the ruling party in Madrid had changed and so too had its foreign policy. We have described the Mediterranean policy of the Catalan government, but does something similar exist in Valencia as well? If so, what objectives would a Valencian Mediterranean agenda have? Certainly, the regional and municipal governments have tried to enhance the presence of Valencia both at the national and international level. This strategy has had the support of central government—headed from 1996 by the same political party as the regional government of Valencia, the PP—and also of some important businessmen. The city has attempted to become Madrid’s main exit to the Mediterranean Sea, an area traditionally very important for Valencia’s prosperity. Furthermore, Valencia has tried to acquire a central place in the western Mediterranean region, often called the Mediterranean Arc.31 Thus, Valencia and Barcelona, two cities that have often been rivals, are in part disputing their centrality in the Mediterranean basin. However, there is an important difference between their Mediterranean policies. Catalan policy should be understood as an internationally-oriented strategy, which despite not being holistic has gradually tried to embrace new areas and issues. In contrast, the Valencian strategy towards the Mediterranean area might be described as a partial policy, designed to enhance the region’s position in the national context rather than develop an international role. In other words, if Catalonia is trying to make Barcelona a Mediterranean capital, Valencia is trying to become Madrid’s main port. Apart from the factors that lead a region to develop a Mediterranean policy, other elements such as the internal and external political context have to be taken into account when analysing how a Forum is organized and, in particular, its outcomes. If there was an optimistic atmosphere at Barcelona owing to the Oslo agreement, Valencia’s Forum took place after a difficult period marked by a new era of anti-globalization riots, the consequences of September 11, the revival of the Middle East conflict through the outbreak of the second Intifada, the growth of right-wing parties in some EU member countries and the arrival of migration-related topics at the top of the Euro-Mediterranean agenda.32 Consequently,


academic and social circles had been engaged in a deep debate on misperceptions, global imbalances and democratic deficits. The Civil Forum of Valencia was no exception: a sort of Mediterranean concern had arisen, although some of the associations that organized the event had never had a Mediterranean vocation previously, nor did they have Mediterranean partners. This is an important point because the question of whether there is an organized civil society network in the host city, and particularly if this associative milieu has already developed some Mediterranean activity, is quite pertinent to the comparison of different Civil Fora. In the case of Valencia, there has been a recurrent debate among social scientists about the strength or weakness of its civil society. For example, faced with the classic thesis of the historian Joan Fuster, who stated that Valencia was not an ‘articulated society’, sociologists like Rafael Ninyoles or Manuel García Ferrando have introduced elements, when analysing the associative, political and economic milieu, which qualify such a categorical affirmation.33 This debate emerged in the early stages of the organization of the Civil Forum: was there a strong enough civil society in Valencia to be able to carry out such an important event? Moreover, Valencian associations have not had, in general, significant involvement in so-called ‘Mediterranean affairs’, nor have they been engaged in Euromed networks such as the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Network (EMHRN).34 Thus, their capacity to organize the forum was a matter of serious concern. Regarding the internal political context, there were important differences with Barcelona. While there had been different ruling parties in the Catalan and national governments back in 1995, by 2002 the same political party ruled at the national and at the sub-national Valencian regional level. The conservatives controlled both governments with an absolute majority, which created quite a co-operative (even subordinate) dynamic between Valencia’s regional government and Madrid. Moreover, rumours suggested that Valencia’s regional president Eduardo Zaplana aspired to a ministerial post, preferably in foreign affairs, in a foreseeable government reshuffle.35 Therefore, he was seen as needing to provide Aznar with a successful outcome from the organization of Euro-Mediterranean events. Comparing both fora, in Barcelona the regional government had more leverage vis-àvis the central government, whereas in Valencia it was the other way round. Whether this element has been a determining factor in the inclusion of human rights on the agenda is debatable. The key factors that placed human rights on top of the agenda of Valencia’s Forum are several. They include the lack of interest of regional governmental actors in the Civil Forum and the consequent margin for manoeuvre given to the associative movement; the specific characteristics of the organizers; and, finally, the legacy from some previous fora that had already dealt with political issues such as human rights.


In the aforementioned Stuttgart Forum, political issues and human rights had been dealt with specifically for the first time.36 Valencia continued the Stuttgart pattern by devoting a workshop exclusively to human rights— something that had not happened in Marseilles or Brussels in spite of the political character of both these fora. However, there were some discontinuities, the most evident being the fact that most of the groups that organized the Stuttgart Forum were not invited to Valencia. Was this due to organizational problems or were there deeper reasons? In truth, Valencia’s Forum suffered from important organizational problems. Most evident was that until very late it was not at all clear who would be in charge of organizing such a big event. From October 2001, a few months after the decision to host the Euro-Mediterranean conference in Valencia was made, some associations in the Valencia region began to work together with the aim of organizing the Civil Forum. They constituted a Comité de Pilotaje (Steering Committee) and a Comité de Coordinación (Co-ordination Committee). Although several organizations, among them some left-wing trade unions and radical movements such as the Movement of Global Resistance, took part in these committees, two large groups had a particularly prominent role: the Committee of NGOs for Development and a foundation indirectly linked to the regional government. This gave the Valencia Forum a very heterogeneous character. The presence of leftist movements was quite paradoxical because, as already indicated, the region and the state were both governed by the conservatives. So, what led the regional and central authorities to give such a valuable platform to these kinds of associations? Fearing that Valencia might become the scene of anti-globalization riots, the strategy of both governments was probably to contain radical groups by integrating them within a framework of co-operation with moderate associations. But what persuaded the leftist movements to accept integration into the official Forum? To a great extent, the latter was seen as a great opportunity to increase their external contacts but they were also convinced by the regional government’s promise to allow a large degree of freedom of action to the organizers. Hence, the heterogeneous composition of the Civil Forum organizers led to frequent discussions on the link between public powers and ‘civil society’. These passionate debates caused some doubts about the likely content and form of the Forum. Two months beforehand, even the dates were not clear.37 However, there was a broad consensus around the idea of fusing the official and the alternative forum. This idea received the name of the ‘Spirit of Valencia’. Compared to Barcelona’s official Civil Forum, the Valencia Forum was much more politicized: special workshops were prepared to discuss politically sensitive problems in the Mediterranean, similar to the workshops of Barcelona’s Alternative Conference, and in particular, a workshop was arranged to deal exclusively with human


rights. The economic dimension was also altered as a result of the organizers’ nature, leading to a greater social content.38 As had happened at Marseilles two years earlier, the Palestinian conflict monopolized all the discussions. None the less, every workshop was able to work and produce its own conclusions. The human rights group was no exception and its final document expressed a position quite different to that of the Spanish EU Presidency. The Aznar administration, which had focused its activities on the fight against terrorism and illegal immigration, had marginalized democratization issues when dealing with the EMP during the Presidency.39 Despite the unifying will of the ‘Spirit of Valencia’ to fuse different sensibilities, other fora were held in Valencia. The most relevant one was the Fòrum de la Valldigna, which was directly organized by the regional government and had an academic profile. Among its conclusions the Spanish press highlighted the proposal to create a Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory,40 without the aim to supplanting the EMHRN.41 Analysis of the presence of human rights in the debates of the Civil Forum and the Fòrum de la Valldigna shows that they acquired a more important place on the agenda than in Barcelona. But was this due to an interest of the Valencian or Spanish governments to do so? In my opinion, this may not be the right interpretation. Was it due to the fact that human rights had become an unavoidable topic in Mediterranean politics? This is not a coherent argument either because the subject was absent from the discussions at the foreign ministers’ conference. Thus, it seems that it was an official Valencian lack of interest in the Civil Forum, along with the desire to prevent anti-globalization riots, that may explain the room for manoeuvre that the associative movement of Valencia was granted and, consequently, the prioritization of human rights on the Forum agenda. After all, for Zaplana’s political ambitions, the most important thing was that the organization of the Euro-Mediterranean Conference be a success, or at least not a disaster.42 The first reward was to be the central government’s promise to install in Valencia a ‘Casa del Mediterráneo’.43 Perhaps Zaplana also dreamt of the future installation of a Foundation for Cultural Dialogue in the city.44 Conclusions This analysis has attempted to show how sub-national governments have dealt with human rights in the context of the EMP on two different occasions: Barcelona 1995 and Valencia 2002, two meetings, seven years apart, with some aspects changing, such as the agenda, while others remained unaltered, like the involvement of regional administrations. Regardless of considerations about whether these fora were well organized or which was more civil than the other, we can state that the issue of


human rights was more central to the Valencia Forum than to the Barcelona one. What put political questions, including human rights, on the top of the agenda of the Valencia Forum? What is the particular place of sub-national governments in this evolution? As we have seen, the international context is significant in the construction of the EMP and Civil Fora agenda, but some aspects of the internal politics of host countries are also quite important. This study shows that focusing analysis on the level of the state is not enough. Especially in decentralized countries like Spain, regional politics as well as their interactions with central governments and civil society actors also have to be taken into account. Although human rights have been the focus of the present study, this might well be the case for other subjects too. In this case it has been quite clear. Regional governments have a major role in the development of the Civil Fora and these are privileged arenas for discussions about human rights. Even though the Mediterranean has traditionally been central to the history of Catalonia and Valencia, the strategies of their regional governments have been noticeably different. To put it in a nutshell, Barcelona is a case where sub-national governments gave importance to the Mediterranean area in practical and symbolic terms and where the Forum was directly organized by a centre, the Institut Català de la Mediterrània, directly controlled by the regional government. In contrast, the autonomy that was given to associative circles in Valencia reflected a lack of interest on the part of the regional government in controlling the event. This might be explained by the low priority of Valencian Mediterranean policy and by the governmental aim of avoiding trouble during the official ministerial conference by integrating radical movements into a loose framework dominated by moderate and cooperative movements. Thus, we reach the paradoxical conclusion that, in this case, the weaker interest of a sub-national government in the Mediterranean and in Euro-Mediterranean issues indirectly facilitated the promotion of human rights on the agenda.45 Hence, this contribution reveals that there is a big gap between theory and practice. Even if sub-national governments could have a privileged position in human rights promotion, as public actors enjoying good relations with civil society networks and free from some of the constraints of central government, in practice some of them have taken no advantage of this position. This does not mean that a more concerned sub-national actor will not be able, in the future, to promote human rights or democratization better in the Euro-Mediterranean framework. The analysis of both cases also shows that, at the present time, some elements favour the engagement of sub-national governments in the promotion of human rights. The current international context is quite different to that of 1995, for example thematic networks are now fully


developed and the issues they raise can no longer be pushed into the background. However, this study also found some evidence suggesting that sub-national governments are quite limited when designing and implementing a comprehensive policy of human rights promotion in the Mediterranean area: first because, far from the death of the nation-state system, the central governments possess most of the instruments necessary to carry out such a policy; second because the peripheral role of Civil Fora within the EMP make these fora a deficient instrument; and finally because decentralized co-operation, which might complement these fora well, has not been sufficiently developed in spite of small advances introduced through the Valencia Action Plan.46 NOTES 1. For example, Jacques Giraudon, a European Commission official, stated: ‘actors of civil society well targeted such as cities, sub-national units (collectivités territoriales), universities or mass media’ [Griraudon, 1999] (my translation). 2. The definition of civil society remains a controversial issue. There is no consensus as to what the criteria should be: Should civil society actors enjoy complete independence from public authorities? Or is it enough if they have a certain amount of economic and/or political independence? Should civil society be considered everything that is not formally a public administration? And what is the definition of ‘the state’? Does the term include only the central government or also local administrations? May radical, nondemocratic or religious groups, for example Islamist organizations, be counted as civil society? [Jünemann, 2002: 89–93]. 3. This study is based on interviews with some of the actors directly involved in the Civil Fora. These included: Helena Oliván and Gemma Aubarell (both from the Institut Europeu de la Mediterrània [IEMed], formerly the Institut Català de la Mediterrània [ICM] where the interview took place on 11 July, 2002); Rubén Martínez Dalmau (researcher at the Instituto Mediterráneo de Estudios Europeos (IMEE) of Valencia and one of the co-ordinators of Valencia’s Forum (interviewed at the University of Valencia, 3 July 2002); and José Manuel Gironès (general director in the Valencia regional government and organizer of the Fòrum de la Valldigna (interviewed in the regional government’s offices, 3 July 2002). I would like to thank them for their help and also Annette Jünemann, Richard Gillespie, Farrah Brown, Laura Feliu and Elisabeth Johansson for comments on drafts of this contribution. My thanks also go to Tito and Anna Alonso Siscar for their hospitality during my sojourn in Valencia. 4. The concept of paradiplomacy can be developed further when talking about co-operative, parallel or conflictive paradiplomacy [García Segura, 2000:292– 3]. 5. See the Amnesty International reports of the last ten years.


6. The work developed by the Ibn Khaldun Centre has been especially significant in the study of Arab civil society. On its website (www.ibnkhaldun.org) one can find some interesting essays [Ibrahim, 2000; Gilbraith, 1996] that analyse this issue and help us to imagine the depth of this phenomenon. For example, Gilbraith’s text calculates that in the 1960s there were about 20,000 NGOs in the Arab countries and more than 70,000 in the 1980s. 7. Even in Morocco, where regionalization projects are more credible, there exists an interesting debate about whether democracy and real regionalization are compatible with royal power [Sehimi, 2001; Segura, 2001]. 8. One of the last avatars of this conflict has been the riots that occurred in Kabylia during the legislative elections of 30 May 2002—elections that were largely boycotted (only 1.85 per cent participation in Tizi Ouzu, Kabylia’s capital). See ‘L’Algérie vote, la Kabylie boycotte’, Le Monde, 30 May 2002, and ‘FLN wins Algeria vote marked by malaise abstention’, Middle East Times, 31 May 2002. 9. Assabiya is a concept developed by Ibn Khaldun when analysing tribal solidarity in North Africa. 10. Martín Muñoz [2000] and Salamé [1994] are two complete and complementary studies on the Arab state and the challenge of democratization in the Arab world and within the Arab elite. Entelis [1997] and Gillespie and Youngs [2002] explore democratization challenges in North Africa. 11. The Spanish system is a hybrid case between German federalism and Italian regionalism. Since the Spanish Constitution considers the possibility of taking away the competencies of the autonomous communities, the Spanish system can not be qualified as federal. 12. Both at the regional and the municipal level. Some examples of this first group are the Euroregion (composed of Catalonia, Langudoc-Roussillon and Midi-Pyrinées) or the IMEDOC (formed by the islands of the western Mediterranean). In the second group we find, for example, C-6, an organization formed by the municipalities of Zaragoza, Barcelona, Valencia, Palma de Mallorca, Montpellier and Toulouse [Institut Català de la Mediterrània, 1999:263–85]. 13. In the southern Mediterranean countries, the intermediate level of government does not exist or is just an instrument of the central power. Consequently, European regional governments have difficulties in finding an appropriate interlocutor to carry out joint projects. To give an example, the Charte du Bassin Méditerranéen, an initiative of Provence’s Conseil Général, was first signed by some regional authorities from the Latin Mediterranean on one side, and by representatives of national government (Morocco and Tunisia) on the other. It took some time before the Gouvernaurat de Tunis and the Tetuan Town Hall could replace their central governments. 14. Valencia Action Plan, point 22. It was a reaction to the Euro-Mediterranean Cities Declaration of February in Barcelona. None the less, as usual the document does not specify which actions should be carried out. 15. When trying to promote human rights in the Mediterranean region, they cannot put into practice any negative democratic clauses vis-à-vis the


16.

17.

18.

19.

20. 21.

22. 23.

24.

25.

26.

Mediterranean partner countries because these clauses are exclusively in the competence of the EU institutions [Feliu, 2001]. The evolution from Barcelona to Brussels has been the object of the Análisis crítico del Foro Civil Euromed of the association ACSUR-Las Segovias. Other studies with a wider perspective are those by Oliván [2001], Jünemann [2003] and Reinhart [2002]. In the particular case of Stuttgart, the high degree of political independence can be explained by the desire of the Friedrich Ebert Foundation to invite only trustworthy NGOs that were known for their independence [Jünemann, 2003]. See the ‘Post Face’ of Mourad Allal in Forum Civil Euromed, Bruxelles 2001, p.95, where he expresses the participants’ frustration at the fact that no public official had come to the inauguration nor to the final session of the Civil Forum. Reinhart [2002] has also highlighted this point and has considered it a paradox that although the Commission is the Forum’s main source of funding, no Commission representative was sent to the panel discussions. The regional parliament in Seville was transformed into an improvised electoral college, a fact that infuriated the Moroccan authorities. This was one of several factors that brought a marked deterioration in the HispanoMoroccan relationship in 2001–2. Convergència i Unió (CiU). See Barbé [1999a:105–7]. Esther Barbé also holds that, although González lost the subsequent elections held in 1996, Javier Solana, his foreign minister, was able to take advantage of the Barcelona Conference in terms of internal prestige and external projection, by going on to become general secretary of NATO and then CSFP chief. Interview with Gemma Aubarell, IEMed, 11 July 2002. They even chaired two competitive institutions: the AER (Assembly of European Regions) and the CEMR (Council of European Municipalities and Regions). In 2002 this Centre changed its name and structure. The new Institut Europeu de la Mediterrània (IEMed) is a consortium of central, regional and municipal administrations. See its webpage at www.iemed.org. Henry [2000] and Fabre [1999] have analysed critically the Latin representation of the Mediterranean. Fabre stresses the contact between the Catalan and Provençal cultural and political movements during the nineteenth century and the first quarter of the twentieth century, as well as Mistral’s exaltation of a so-called Latin race in some of his texts. GonzálezCalleja [1999] has also analysed it on the Spanish side, with an interesting analysis of modernisme and noucentisme in Catalonia. This conception of the Arab presence in the Mediterranean as the main element that creates a permanent division in the ‘common sea’ was quite similar to the thesis of Henri Pirenne, who in Mahomet et Charlemagne (París: PUF, 1992) said that ‘Islam broke a Mediterranean unity that had even resisted the Germanic invasions’ (my translation). On the construction of Moors as the ‘others’ in Spain, see Martín Corrales [2002].


27. In Casablanca there is a commercial promotion office (COPCA) and several Catalan small and medium enterprises have relocated to Morocco. In Tunisia most of the Catalan investment is in tourism. 28. Interview with Gemma Aubarell, IEMed, 11 July 2002. 29. This is especially the case of commerce, investment, tourism and technology and co-operation workshops. Sponsorship by some big enterprises (Repsol, Gas Natural, Telefónica, etc.) has to be taken into account also. See Institut Català de la Mediterrània [1996]. 30. See Conferència Mediterrània Alternativa [1996] and Grasa [1997]. 31. Good examples of this policy include some of the articles published in number 36 of the Revista Valenciana d’Estudis Autonòmics, for example that by Valencia’s former regional president, Eduardo Zaplana. 32. See Gillespie’s contribution in this volume. 33. Some titles by Joan Fuster, Rafael Ninyoles and Manuel García Ferrando reflecting this debate are listed in the References. One proof of the validity of this debate is that in the interview with Josep Maria Gironés, a civil servant of the regional government, he referred to Fuster’s thesis. In Subirats [1999] the same debate is transposed to the whole of Spain. 34. Rubén Martínez (Instituto Mediterráneo de Estudios Europeos) and Gemma Aubarell (Insitut Europeu de la Mediterránia) confirmed this point in interviews. 35. He confirmed this hypothesis himself when he stated that he ‘wouldn’t change regional government for almost any ministry’, Las Provincias, 23 April 2002. However, it was the Ministry of Labour that he was subsequently allocated. 36. The Stuttgart Forum, held in 1999, was structured around three baskets and one of them, on human rights and citizenship in the Mediterranean, was organized by the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Network with support from the Friedrich Ebert Foundation. 37. Even in the Spanish Parliament, the foreign minister was asked about it (Diario de Sesiones 138, 13 Feb. 2002, pp.691–2). 38. Interview with Rubén Martínez Dalmau, Valencia, 3 July 2002. 39. In Barbé (ed.) [2002], Laia Mestres explains how the Spanish Presidency placed its own priorities on top of the EU agenda. In another chapter, Eduard Soler i Lecha and Rina Weltner-Puig analyse how these priorities were acted upon in the case of Euro-Mediterranean policy. 40. In Levante, 21 April 2002, a regional minister, Rafael Blasco, described this proposal as a basic instrument for the future International Criminal Court. 41. José Manuel Gironès confirmed this point to me in the interview on 3 July 2002. 42. Zaplana tried for example to convince Syrian leaders to attend the Valencia Conference. See ‘El embajador sirio propone a Zaplana la celebración de una cumbre euroárabe que vete la presencia de Israel’, Las Provincias, 20 April 2002. 43. A Casa de América already exists in Madrid and a Casa de Asia in Barcelona. 44. The aim of establishing this Foundation appears in the Valencia Action Plan of 2002, but no details are specified therein.


45. Concerning this thesis, see also Feliu’s contribution in this volume. 46. See the Valencia Action Plan, point 22.

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Feliu, L. (2001): ‘Human Rights and the Barcelona Process’, in Attinà and Stravridis (eds.) [2001]. Fuster, J. (1964): Nosaltres els valencians, Barcelona: Edicions 62. García Fernando, M. (ed.) (1992): La sociedad valenciana de los 90, Valencia: Edicions Alfons el Magnànim. García Segura, C. (1993): La proyección exterior de Cataluña en su dimensión mediterránea: el Arco Latino, Bellaterra: Centre d’Estudis sobre la Pau i el Desarmament. García Segura, C. (1995): ‘Comunidades autónomas y relaciones internacionales’, in R. Gillespie, F.Rodrigo and J.Story (eds.), Las relaciones exteriores de la España democrática, Madrid: Alianza. García Segura, C. (2000): ‘Relacions internacionals i sobiranies perforades’, in E.Fossas (ed.), Les transformacions de la sobirania i el futur polític de Catalunya, Barcelona: Proa. Giammusso, M. (1999): ‘Civil Society Initiatives and Prospects of Economic Development: The Euro-Mediterranean Decentralized Co-operation Networks’, Mediterranean Politics 4/1. Gilbraith, M. (1996): ‘Civil Society in the Arab World’, at www.ibnkhaldun.org/ newsletter/ 1996/oct/essay.html. Gillespie, R. (2000): Spain and the Mediterranean: Developing a European Policy towards the South, London: Macmillan. Gillespie, R. and R.Youngs (eds.) (2002): The European Union and Democracy Promotion: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Giraudon, J. (1999): ‘Coopération décentralisée et société civile en Mediterranée’, Vième session d’information et formation pour jeunes diplomates euroméditerranéens, Malta, 23–26 April 1999, at http://www.euromed.net/activities/ training_seminars/seminar6/j_giraudon. htm. González-Calleja, E. (1999): ‘Les différentes utilizations de la mare nostrum: répresentations de la Méditerranée dans l’Espagne contemporaine’, at http:// periples.mmsh.univ-aix.fr/med-representations/textes/gonzales/gonzales.html. Grasa, R. (1997): ‘La Conference méditerraneéne alternative: voix critique et plurielle à la récherche d’un espace de solidarité’, in B.Khader (ed.), La partenariat euro-méditerranéen après la conférence de Barcelone, París: l’Harmattan. Henry, J.-R. (2000): ‘Métamorphoses du mythe Méditerranéennes’, in Henry and G.Groc (eds.), Politiques Méditerranéens, entre logiques étatiques et espace civil, Paris and Aix-en-Provence: Karthala-Iremam. Hernando de Larramendi, M. (1997): ‘La Politique Méditerranéenne du gouvenement Aznar, une continuité (in) attendue?’, l’Annuaire de la Méditerranée 1997, Rabat and Paris: GERM and Publisud. Hocking, B. (1999): ‘Patrolling the Frontier: Globalization, Localization and Actorness of Non Central Governments’, in F.Aldecoa and M.Keating (eds.), Paradiplomacy in Action: The Foreign Action of Subnational Governments, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Ibrahim, I. (2000): ‘Debating Democracy in the Arab World’, at www.ibnkhaldun.org/newsletter/ 2000/feb/essay.html.


Institut Català de la Mediterrània (1996): Hacia un nuevo escenario de asociación euromediterránea, Barcelona: ICM (English, French, Spanish, Catalan and Arabic versions available). Institut Català de la Mediterrània (1999): L’espai mediterrani llatí. És possible un lobby mediterrani dins la UE? Barcelona: ICM. Jerch, M. and A.Lorca Corrons (2002): ‘Kant y el Mediterráneo: Una nueva vision de la política euromediterránea’, Revista CIDOB d’Afers Internacionals 56. Jünemann, A. (2002): ‘From the Bottom to the Top: Civil Society and Transnational Non-Governmental Organizations in the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in Gillespie and Youngs (eds.) [2002]. Jünemann, A. (2003): ‘The Forum Civil Euromed: Critical Watchdog and Intercultural Mediator’, in S.Panebianco (ed.), A New Euro-Mediterranean Cultural Identity, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Keating, M. (1996): Naciones contra el estado. Cataluña, Quebec, Escocia, Barcelona: Ariel. Keating, M. (1999): ‘Regions and International Affaires: Motives, Opportunities and Strategies’, in F.Aldecoa and M.Keating (eds.), Paradiplomacy in Action: The Foreign Action of Subnational Governments, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Laïdi, Z. (2001): Un monde privé de sens, Paris: Hachette. Martín Corrales, E. (2002): La imagen del magrebí en España: Una perspectiva histórica (siglos XVI–XX), Barcelona: Bellaterra. Martín Muñoz, G. (1996): ‘Le rôle de la société civile au Maghreb et le défi euroméditerranéen’, Annuaire de la Mediterranée 1996, Rabat-Paris: GERMPUBLISUD, pp.149–63. Martin Muñoz, G. (2000): El Estado Árabe, Barcelona: Bellaterra. Morata, F. (1996): ‘Barcelone et la Catalogne dans l’arène Européenne’, in R.Balme (ed.), Les politiques du néo-regionalisme, Paris: Economica. Ninyoles, R. (1993): El País Valencià a l’eix Mediterrani, Valencia: Eixam. Ninyoles, R. (2000): La societat valenciana: estructura social i institucional, Alzira: Bromera. Ohmae, K. (1996): The End of Nation State: The Rise of Regional Economies, London: Harper Collins. Oliván, H. (2001): ‘El Fórum Civil Euromed: balance, continuidades y cambios’, Quaderns de la Mediterrània 2–3. Panebianco, S. (2001): ‘The EMP’s Innovative Dimension of a Cultural Dialogue: Prospects and Challenges’, in Attinà and Stravridis (eds.) [2001]. Rahmani, T. and B.Bekkouche (1995): Coopération décentralisée: l’Union Européenne en Méditerranée Occidentale, Paris: Continent Europe. Reinhardt, U.J. (2002): ‘Civil Society Co-operation in the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership: From Declarations to Practice’, Euromesco working paper 15. Roque, M.À. (ed.) (1997): Identidades y conflicto de valores, Barcelona: Icária-ICM. Salamé, G. (1994): Démocratie sans démocrates: politiques d’ouverture dans le monde arabe et musulman, Paris: Fayard. Schmitter, P.C. (2001) ‘The Influence of the International Context upon the Choice of National Institutions and Policies in Neo-Democracies’, in L.Whitehead (ed.), The International Dimensions of Democratization in Europe and the Americas, New York: Oxford University Press.


Segura, A. (2001): ‘A propósito de la regionalización en Marruecos y la cuestión del Sáhara’, Quaderns de la Mediterrània 2–3. Sehimi, M. (2001): ‘La regionalización en Marruecos’, Quaderns de la Mediterrània 2–3. Subirats, J. (ed.) (1999): ¿Existe sociedad civil en España? Madrid: Estudios de la Fundación Encuentro.

8 Loss of Guiding Values and Support: September 11 and the Isolation of Human Rights Organizations in Egypt ANGELA GRÜNERT

For several decades, various private and state-financed international donors have considered Egyptian human rights organizations, with their commitment to democracy and international conventions, as the ideal partners for supporting civil society and promoting democracy. By the mid-1990s, the UN and the EU considered human rights organizations as the most qualified non-governmental organizations (NGOs) within the framework of international economic and structural adjustment programmes (ESAP). While the majority of NGOs today rely entirely on external funding, they nevertheless regard moral backing as much more important than financial aid, given the hard line taken by the government towards any kind of non-conformity. After September 11, when the donors suspended their support, leaving their partner organizations on their own in most critical circumstances, the relationship between the two parties changed dramatically. The conflict centres mainly on the government’s accusations that the human rights organizations co-operate with Islamists. Although the human rights organizations reject the charge that they are linked ideologically to Islamists, they cannot deny that Islamists—as victims of human rights violations—are among their typical clients. This connection goes back to the 1990s when, against the background of various Islamist terror attacks, the government used extremely harsh methods—including torture—to combat their strongest opponents [Gerges, 2000:592–612]. Long before September 11, the government had frequently warned that collaboration between the human rights organizations, which they regarded as radically left wing, and the Islamists constituted a serious threat to the stability of the whole region. This was one of several attempts to undermine the alliances between NGOs and their donors. The introduction in 1999 of a new law regulating or, more accurately, restricting the activities of NGOs was a further attempt to subject international co-operation to legal controls. Due to the new law on cooperation between NGOs and donors, the issue of co-operation with human rights organizations became highly uncomfortable by September 11. Consequently, the donor organizations had little or no interest in


attempting to overcome the crisis triggered by the attacks in New York and Washington. Their attitude has been one of pessimism and ‘wait and see’. For months, there was only limited communication between donors and human rights organizations and, due to the suspension of external funding, joint human rights programmes came to a standstill. Given the closeness of co-operation between human rights activists and locally based donors, the latter are well aware that their partners do not share the Islamist ideology of many of their clients. And yet they have failed to make the case for a continuation of joint projects. The reasons for their inactivity are all the more complex, as locally-based donors are generally branches of larger organizations based abroad, and for this reason lack the power to make key decisions. In a state of crisis, they have to reconcile three objects: first of all, the need to work within a limited framework, established and increasingly controlled by the Egyptian government; secondly their solidarity towards their Egyptian NGO counterparts; and thirdly their loyalty towards their headquarters. Only a small number of locally-based donor agencies decide independently about their projects. However, international co-operation is influenced both by relations between the home and the host country and by broad political developments. Although, in exploiting the security issue in order to combat its domestic opponents, the Egyptian government is evidently pursuing its own interest, it is not at liberty to act as it chooses as it depends strongly on the flow of international aid funds. Despite the fact that the crisis has reached an impasse, all parties are attempting to find their role in a newly evolving framework of international co-operation in which the old alliances no longer function. The aim of the following analysis is to shed light on the interests at play in a complex constellation. Most of the findings are based on field research carried out in Cairo in January 2002.1 With the aid of interviews with 23 NGOs and donor organizations, I aim to identify the interests and expectations behind such co-operation and the difficulties it is undergoing during the current crisis.2 In a first step the background of the sometimes diverging and frequently controversial interests of NGOs, donors and the Egyptian government is to be revealed, from the beginning of international cooperation in the mid-1990s to the aftermath of September 11. The overriding questions for that analysis are: • To what extent are broader political conditions taken into account when decisions on international co-operation are made? • On what formal and ideological basis does international co-operation take place and to what extent do the interests of NGOs and donors differ on joint projects? • In what kind of projects is the Egyptian government prepared to cooperate—and on what terms?

THE ISOLATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS ORGANIZATIONS IN EGYPT 139

Three periods of the Egyptian human rights movement will be investigated. To start with, an overview of the origins of the human rights organizations in Egypt is given, from student movement activities in the late 1970s to their transformation into ‘professional’ NGOs co-operating with international donors within the ESAP framework. In a further step, the analysis will concentrate on the impact of the implementation of Law No. 153, the new ‘Law of Associations’, which has regulated the activities of NGOs since 1999. Finally a focus will be put on international co-operation in the aftermath of September 11 and on the conclusions that donors and NGOs have drawn from their experience of co-operation in the past. The Human Rights Movement from its Origins to the Introduction of Law No.153 The Human Rights Organizations The human rights movement started in Egypt at the end of the 1970s within the political framework of Sadat’s policy of infitah,3 which saw the re-introduction of a limited number of parties in 1977 and a degree of tolerance towards an increasingly politicized student movement [Baker, 1990:243; El-Shorbaghi, 1997:1; Zaki, 1996:218]. Students of law began to press for the abolition of the numerous emergency laws and decrees, passed under the Nasser government, which were still being used to control and prevent opposition of any kind. By the mid-1980s, human rights activists had graduated from university and were beginning to set up organizations beyond the campuses. Ideologically, they were closest to the Nasserist and Marxist parties, which supported them in their demands for democratization and political liberalization. From about 1985, an increasing number of activists began to leave the political parties in order to start new careers in the human rights organizations. At the end of the cold war, the left-wing parties faced a serious crisis in which the members of the parties were completely at variance with each other. As a result, many activists became ideologically disoriented and frustrated. Against this background, they saw the new organizations as a more effective alternative for political activism, as the following statement of a lawyer, who used to work for Egypt’s first human rights organization, indicates: By the end of the 80s you hardly found anyone from the left wing who was not involved in human rights. ‘Human rights’ became the magic spell for all disappointed activists from the Left who felt strongly attracted by the human rights organizations with their challenging political approach.4


In 1985, The Egyptian Organization for Human Rights (EOHR) became the first human rights NGO to develop into a political platform accommodating politically diverse interests. This diversity received a good deal of attention, not just from broad circles of the population, but also from the local and international media. As a result, the EOHR’s activities were welcomed by the international donor community, which offered participation in joint projects. These developments, however, provoked controversial ideological discussions about the increasing politicization of human rights organizations and the acceptance of external funds. Until the mid-1990s, people working for the human rights organizations received no payment and the NGOs refused categorically to accept external funding. However, the issue was already being discussed. Those opposed to external funding argued that the organizations would no longer be able to pursue their own goals and would be unable to avoid falling in with donor strategies. Hard-liners rejected all forms of cooperation, even with international human rights organizations, on the grounds that this would require the investment of time, energy and money which would be better invested in domestic projects. By contrast, advocates of co-operation stressed the advantages of international contacts and financial aid, which would enable the human rights movement to carry out essential and sustainable projects and, in this way, address and mobilize a broader public. So controversial was this debate that it would probably have paralysed the human rights movement permanently, were it not for the fact that western international human rights organizations were already starting to establish contact with them.5 They issued invitations to various conferences abroad and, before long, Egyptian activists were entering international networks and establishing close contacts with the international donor community. Furthermore, they began to enlarge their field of activities both in Egypt and at the international level. It soon became apparent that their involvement in human rights had reached a level that could no longer be maintained solely by relying on unpaid volunteers. The EOHR’s first step towards external funding was its acceptance of the reimbursement of travel expenses for conferences abroad, a development which unleashed stormy discussion and led to a split in the organization. Between 1993 and 1994, five new human rights organizations were established, mainly by former EOHR members. All of them expressed their readiness to cooperate on the international level and accept external funding. In the context of economic depression with few, underpaid job opportunities for academics and intellectuals, the new human rights organizations, soon generously supported by international organizations, offered a lucrative alternative. However, it was not only political activists who were interested in the new, alternative jobs. A regular income, business cards with prestigious titles and—depending on one’s position—a


car, a mobile phone, a secretary and contact with the international community, enhanced the appeal of this new profession to such an extent that even some entrepreneurs began to show an interest in the field of human rights. However, the field is still dominated by committed democrats, including lawyers and social scientists. More than 15 new human rights organizations have been established since the mid-1990s, the majority being exclusively dependent on external funding. Critics often assert that most of the new human rights organizations are products of their donors and would never have been founded, and would not function, without their commitment [Luebben, 2001:7; Lutfi, 2001: 97]. More critical voices criticize the fact that NGOs generally work much more in the interests of the donors than of their beneficiaries [Bayat, 2002: 18f.]. In addition, the Egyptian state-controlled media frequently suspects the human rights activists of spying for the West.6 However, the human rights activists themselves have a much more positive picture of their relationship to the donors, as the following two statements indicate: More than the money, which is needed to carry out our projects and to spread awareness about the misery of the human rights situation in our country, is the personal support of the donors and their presence in our country. They choose our organizations and our work as eligible for funding because of common conceptions of human rights values. By spending their money, they back our engagement for civil society and make it difficult for the government to fight against us.7 The aim of the European Community and other international donors is to support development and democratization programmes. That is how we understand our role as their partners in the process to secure stabilization and security for the whole region.8 Given this understanding of partnership, the new human rights organizations faced no problems with their transformation from grassroots organizations into so-called ‘professional’ NGOs. With a regular income at their disposal, they enlarged their programmes, employed professional co-workers and assistants and opened new branches. Even their formal obligations (extensive bureaucratic requirements) to the donors were seen as a training experience in international bureaucracy. Although the human rights organizations frequently criticized the EU and UN organizations for co-operating simultaneously with the government and the NGOs and for their inconsistency on political issues, they nevertheless learned to accept this as a precondition of their asymmetrical, but highly profitable partnership. Some organizations became involved both in the lucrative projects preferred by the donors and in projects on which the donors were either unwilling or unable to co-operate, for example, support for Islamist victims of human rights violations. The NGOs


were careful not to involve the donors in such projects, so as to avoid compromising them in their role as mediators between the state and the NGOs. This was a precarious balance given that the human rights organizations still relied on the donors’ security guarantee. The fragile character of that guarantee was revealed in 1999, when the notorious Law 153 regulating NGO activities began to be enforced. The International Donors The political context of the new NGOs, which were founded in the early 1990s, differs greatly from the circumstances in which the first human rights organizations were created in the 1970s and 1980s. According to Lutfi, politically-active Arab civil society grew out of a ‘general feeling of distrust towards Arab states which failed to live up to their promises’ after the Arab defeat in 1967 [Lutfi, 2001:97]. The beginning of human rights activism on the Cairene campuses in the late 1970s was a direct response to increasing human rights violations and can therefore be interpreted as a result of a ‘general feeling of mistrust’. However, the real foundation of the Egyptian human rights movement was the ESAP. International support for civil forums became acceptable to the state because the donors made the development of a stable democracy a condition of financial assistance for Egypt’s integration into the world market. Against this background the international agencies, well aware of the precarious legal position of the Egyptian human rights organizations, took on the role of protective patrons. Given the commitment of the human rights organizations to western values and international conventions, they were perceived as ideal partners in the pursuit of common goals and were often referred to as ‘partners for the West’. Hence, by the mid-1990s, the Egyptian human rights organizations topped the list of NGOs receiving support from international donors. In the following years, more than ten new human rights organizations were established and co-operated with their international partner organizations. In seeking to strengthen the NGOs, the international donors hoped that their financial support and co-operative local presence would enable them to become long-term, autonomous and influential mediators between the government and civil society. Since this goal was far from being achieved, the donors themselves assumed the role of mediators, quite often between the different interests of their NGO partners and their host country, the Egyptian state. In addition, they are bound to decisions taken at their headquarters, which do not necessarily correspond to the needs of their local partners, as the following statement of a European Commission consultant on economic co-operation indicates:


The priority sectors are chosen in Brussels and revised on an annual basis. Therefore they do not necessary correspond with the requirements of our local partners in Egypt. Generally we have to accept that there are sensitive issues (like human rights, equality for minorities, etc.) with which we have to be very diplomatic when dealing with the government. You have also to take into consideration that political conditions for projects—what is possible and what is problematic can change from one day to the other.9 The Egyptian Government International co-operation was initially welcomed by the Egyptian government, whose official support was based on financial and political interests. Support for NGOs—specifically for those that were originally engaged mainly in welfare and social issues—was seen as a means of reducing the government’s own social responsibilities. Furthermore, the strengthening of popular secular forums was perceived as a means of counteracting the growing influence of the Islamists, the most powerful opposition force confronting the state. For a while it seemed as if financial and political considerations had convinced the government of the concept of civil society as an instrument for security and political stabilization. However, goodwill towards civil society soon reached its limits when the government itself became the target of criticism by the increasingly selfconfident and critical NGOs. With the passage of the new Law of Associations, the government had a legal basis for successful intervention in the projects of NGOs and international donors. International Co-operation on Human Rights from the Introduction of Law 153 until September 2001 The Egyptian Government Law 153, drafted by the Ministry of Social Affairs and ratified by the Egyptian People’s Assembly in May 1999, defines the new framework for the activities of NGOs. It was developed mainly to replace Law No.32, which came into effect in 1964 in the context of the repressive Nasser-era emergency regulations. The NGO community criticized the new law for being more restrictive than its predecessor (Al-Ahram Weekly, 6–12 June 2002). The main controversial aspect of the new NGO law is that all NGOs are regarded as illegal unless they are officially registered with the Ministry of Social Affairs. Activists belonging to unauthorized organizations are considered criminal offenders and can expect to be prosecuted. The NGOs have to fulfil numerous requirements if they are to obtain recognition. One


such requirement is that they join the Federation of NGOs, an institution headed by a former governor. The Ministry of Social Affairs is entitled to designate an official as a member of the NGO’s governing board, thus giving it the power to intervene directly in the internal affairs of the nongovernmental institution. Article 11 of Law 153 prohibits all activities of a ‘political nature’. Furthermore, all external funds have to be approved by and transferred through the Ministry of Social Affairs before they reach the NGOs. This means that Law 153 also directly affects the donors activities, specifically their funding decisions. When Law 153 was introduced in parliament, the NGO community responded by holding various conferences, seminars and workshops, following which representatives of different NGOs united in a joint campaign to oppose the changes. This resulted in an alternative law being presented to the People’s Assembly by independent MP, Ayman Nour. Among other suggestions for modification, Nour called for a return to the 1946 civil law, which provided for much greater accountability and transparency. Despite all of these efforts, Law 153 went through parliament. The NGO community was disappointed and shocked about the response of the ministry, which did not even try to conceal the fact that the new law aimed at restricting civil society in general and human rights organizations in particular, as the following statements of the minister of social affairs indicate: I am not allowing this [new] law for the transformation of 14,000 NGOs into political parties [Financial Times, 10 June 1999]. We believe in the work of NGOs because we know that there are certain things the government cannot do. NGOs should also realize that even without restrictions they would not be able to operate without assistance from the government. NGOs left alone are not able to function or at least would not function as effectively as when they are backed by the government [Al-Ahram weekly, 4–10 June 1998]. Although the NGOs’ campaign was unsuccessful in preventing the draft law from being ratified, they managed to arouse the interest of the international community in this controversial issue. Various governmental and private donors expressed their reservations concerning the law reform. The United States, for example, declared that Law 153 was the ‘wrong direction to go’, while the European Commission spoke of ‘a threat to the necessary support for an independent civil society’. UN Human Rights Commissioner, Mary Robinson, appealed personally to those responsible not to use the law against NGO activists and in particular against the human rights activists that it targeted (Middle East International, 14 June 2002).


In June 2000, almost a year after the official introduction of the law, the High Constitutional Court overturned the new Law of Associations on account of technicalities. Its revised version, even worse than the previous Law 153, was passed by the People’s Assembly in June 2002 by 426 out of a total of 454 votes. Like the previous version, the new law prohibits any organization from engaging in civil activity unless it has registered with the Ministry of Social Affairs. Furthermore, it passes the right to disband an association to the authority of the court of law and prohibits membership in federations or networks outside the country without prior government permission. The NGOs Even before the draft Law of Associations had passed through parliament for the first time, the new restrictive policy towards NGOs created difficulties for non-governmental organizations in general. For the human rights organizations in particular, it marked the beginning of a struggle for survival. The NGO community is now totally fragmented. On the one side are the NGOs which, mainly in order to ensure their continued existence, have decided to fall in with the new regulations and to register officially. On the other side are those NGOs that, seeking to maintain the independence they regard as essential, have refused to accept the new controls. The controversy about state licensing of NGOs has led to divisions, not only between different organizations, but also within individual organizations. One example is the Hisham Mubarak Law Centre, a human rights organization that has now split in two. The Association for Human Rights to Legal Aid decided to register officially, while the remaining Hisham Mubarak Law Centre continues its activities in the same way as before the passage of the Law of Associations, and is therefore considered to be working illegally. Employees of the once united human rights organization decided individually which of the two organizations they wished to belong to. Although their fields of activity and approaches are broadly similar, both the Hisham Mubarak Law Centre and the Association for Human Rights refuse to co-operate, and even appear to have broken off all contact with each other. This example illustrates a general tendency towards mutual distrust between the different NGOs, which have even ceased cooperating in areas such as the exchange of information. The following statement indicates that the activists, though well aware of the reasons for their loss of unity, have not yet found ways to overcome the problems arising from it: We are all convinced that in these difficult times networking is most important… Co-operating is very much influenced by internal and


external circumstances. The NGO law is the best example of where the government succeeded in dividing NGOs from the donors. Some NGOs think that they have to accept the government’s policy of control and restriction and register with the Ministry of Social Affairs. Many organizations, like our organization, oppose that opinion. The quarrels within and between the individual organizations provide the government with the power to put pressure on one side or the other, with the result that we are fighting against each other instead of fighting together as a strong opposition against the government.10 All human rights organizations decided for or against registration more or less simultaneously between November 1999 and February 2000, shortly after the official introduction of Law 153. When asked about the main reason for their decisions, the organizations that decided against registration replied that, in addition to the moral aspects, they could only take this problematic step because they counted on the support of their international partner organization in a crisis situation. Those organizations that decided for official registration explained that they took this questionable decision primarily to guarantee the survival of their organizations. The extent to which they were threatened became apparent with the state action against the Ibn Khaldun Centre in May 2001. Twenty-eight employees of this prestigious human rights organization were accused of having accepted foreign funds without permission. The charges related primarily to a $270,000 EU-sponsored programme for the observation of the parliamentary elections in the autumn of 2000, which had attracted considerable international attention to the questionable status of democracy in Egypt. Both the critical report that was produced and other activities were blamed for ‘tarnishing the nation’s image’. The chairman of Ibn Khaldun, Saad ed-Din Ibrahim, was sentenced to seven years in prison on various charges. In all probability, the aim of the prosecution was to demonstrate the power of the state and make an example of Ibrahim, a prominent professor of sociology at the American University of Cairo. By choosing Saad ed-Din Ibrahim, who holds dual American and Egyptian citizenship, the government took the chance to respond to the American criticism of an increase in the instances of human rights violations in Egypt. Charging an American citizen demonstrated the universality of the new Law of Associations, which everyone—Egyptians and foreigners, donors and NGOs—would have to respect.


The International Donors Eight months after Ibrahim was sentenced, the Court of Cassation, Egypt’s supreme appellate authority, overturned the verdict on technical grounds, but also mentioned that the original court had failed to consider the evidence and the defence arguments properly. The international donor community welcomed this decision and appealed to the responsible authorities to drop the charges against Ibrahim once and for all. The European Commission issued several statements confirming that it was satisfied with the way in which Ibrahim had made use of its money and repeatedly praised his activities in the field of human rights. But all international intervention proved to be fruitless, as Ibrahim was again sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment in June 2002. The Ibrahim case was the first occasion when the donors were confronted with a situation in which they were unable to bring their influence into play. The new Law of Associations indicates the vulnerability of the undefined legal framework within which the donor organizations operate, in particular those organizations working on bilateral contracts with the Egyptian NGOs. The case of the German political foundations is perhaps the best example of the effectiveness of the new legal regulations. They face great difficulties to register officially because they are not regarded either as state or as private institutions.11For this reason, their work is based, according to their statements, on ‘special arrangements’ or ‘personal contacts’ with institutions or influential persons who function as mediators between their offices and the official institutions.12 With the introduction of the new Law of Associations, lobbying of this kind has lost much of its former effectiveness. The clause that lays down that NGOs may receive external funding only through the Egyptian ministries also obliges the institutions providing funds to register. This means that the funding decisions of non-registered donor agencies depend completely on the goodwill of the ministries. Most non-registered organizations describe the new framework for their activities as ‘extremely fragile’ and complain about despotism and a lack of transparency in respect of the measures preventing donors from co-operating with NGOs. Even the governmental donor organizations and all those whose cooperation is based on trilateral contracts with the Egyptian government speak of increasing domination by the Egyptian government. Due to these instances of official intervention, donors began to reduce their co-operation with non-registered NGOs. It soon became apparent that both registered and non-registered human rights organizations were all in the same boat, that is, controlled by the government. Those that registered with the ministry had no advantages over those who refused to register. As a rule, the Ministry for Social Affairs has rarely approved


applications for planned co-operation projects, or has delayed their approval process for so long as to prevent the projects from being carried out. By effectively cutting off external financial support for the NGOs, the government is failing to live up to the agreements on trilateral co-operation to which it is a party. This was made clear in remarks by a consultant of the European Commission on economic co-operation, in which she referred to the Ibrahim case: Our work is based on agreements with the government. They have to guarantee that the NGOs we have chosen as our partners, will receive their funds directly in order to realize our common projects. This is how it should be, but things are changing nowadays. The Ibrahim case demonstrates that we can’t rely any more on such agreements. The government does not care about the difference between governmental or non-governmental donors, between bilateral and trilateral contracts, they decide solely in their interest. That case is addressed to all of us, but no donor will think that this demonstration of helplessness implies that our efforts have been useless. It should be the opposite, it stresses the importance of our monitoring role, besides the financial support.13 However, this monitoring role proved too demanding for most of the donor organizations and, as a result, there has been a shift of interest towards less politicized projects. All human rights organizations describe this shift as the turning point for international co-operation. They stress that the moral basis of their partnership with the donors remains unchanged, even though it has become considerably more difficult to finance and carry out projects. Only after September 11 did the human rights organizations realize that their international partners had ceased to act as sponsors in a common cause. The Newly Evolving Order for Human Rights Activism: September 11 and its Consequences The NGOs After September 11, it was the human rights organizations that dared to protest against the unlawful treatment of Islamists following the arrest of large numbers, in many cases without any sign that charges were going to be brought against them. On this occasion, they were to experience for the first time the way in which appeals to international courts were ignored by the donor community. Far more disappointing than the suspension of external funds was the discovery that they could no longer count on


moral backing and that their international partners left them on their own in most critical circumstances. Most human rights organizations have drawn their conclusions from this disappointment. While being interviewed, many activists expressed their intention to leave their organizations. They felt that their hands were tied, and that their political commitment involved too high a risk. Such reactions are comprehensible when it is borne in mind that most activists have helped build up their organizations while students or shortly after graduating from university and, in the meantime, have married and started families. It is primarily responsibility towards their families, not least financial responsibilities (as no salaries can be paid without donor funding), that has led most activists to going back to their previous occupations. Some of the lawyers have chosen this option and returned to their original professions, although they still take on individual cases of human rights violations in a private capacity. The majority of organizations have opted for the simplest way—that of developing less politicized programmes, in the sense that their programmes now avoid confrontation with the Egyptian government. A considerable number have joined a solidarity network in support of Palestine and now devote their political and practical energies largely to non-domestic issues. Another trend is the adoption of programmes adjusted to the new, less politicized agendas of the donors, such as the internationally supported programmes for the promotion of inter-religious dialogue. Only a few organizations have been unwilling to compromise and have accordingly declared that ‘they would prefer to go to prison than to comply with the provisions of the new law and the new conditions for international co-operation’ [Brouwer, 2000:11]. They are now in the process of considering how to get over the dependence on donors that cooperate with the government and to structure themselves more autonomously. Almost all see the necessity for closer co-operation both within Egypt and with other Arab human rights organizations outside the country. Most of them, however, believe this will be very difficult to achieve, especially in the light of mutual distrust which has grown since the split between the NGOs following the passage of the new Law of Associations. Some admitted therefore to aiming at smaller projects in the future, with reduced staff in order to manage with lower funding. Self-criticism focuses mainly on the fact that the human rights organizations have in the past addressed only the intellectual elite, and are therefore less securely anchored in society at large. For this reason, some organizations plan to enlarge their programmes through joint ventures with other organizations and, in future, to seek co-operation primarily with grassroots organizations from the provinces. Rural organizations are perceived to represent the broad masses and the basic problems of 75 per cent of the whole population. Some human rights organizations have begun


to regard the popularity which they gained through their assistance to Islamists as victims of human rights violations as a stepping-stone to the extension of their activities to more traditional, religious-oriented areas. There is a growing number of the already numerous community centres and welfare organizations possessing an Islamic background. Most of these centres are organized by—and situated close to—smaller ahli mosques (built and controlled by the people rather than the state), although they operate through a broader network within entire districts. Some human rights organizations regard co-operation with more liberal Islamic groups as a challenging approach to gain mass support for human rights and democratization. For a considerable time there has been informal co-operation between liberal Islamic-oriented organizations and human rights organizations. However, the established NGOs did little to intensify such co-operation, as they did not regard it as compatible with donor interest and were unwilling to endanger the flow of foreign income. Actually, the majority of the human rights organizations do not place much confidence in co-operation of this kind. The secretary general of the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights summarizes their objections, which are the result of ideological differences: On a personal level, usually connected to politics, for example, when people are accused on account of their religious affiliation, both we and the Islamists speak a common language. But when it comes to human rights on the basis of international conventions, based on western values, we are confronted with tremendous gaps. I do not see how we can bridge the differences of opinion between us on such issues as the equality of the sexes or the status of Christian and Jewish minorities in our state. The right to free expression is another issue. When it touches the topic of religious thoughts, the Islamists would never accept an agreement on the freedom of expression.14 However, all human rights organizations see the need to change the structure of their programmes, mainly in order to reach a broader public. At the time of the interviews on which this contribution is based, they had not yet set out a common strategy, although all of them saw domestic co-operation between the different human rights organizations as a top priority. The Donors Most of the donors regard the terror attacks against America rather than their attitude towards the human rights organizations as the main reason for the fundamental changes in international co-operation. When the interviews were being carried out, most of the donors were fairly


pessimistic about the degree to which they could shape new strategies, and felt largely bound by decisions taken at a higher, political level where officials based in local branches have little scope for exerting influence. Although the locally-based donors are doubtless qualified to give information on the substance and character of Egyptian human rights projects, they chose to remain silent, evidently because they did not wish to jeopardize the possibility of future co-operation. Only two of the donors interviewed expressed unreserved readiness to continue their cooperation with human rights partners. Most of the international organizations, however, adopted the position that, although support for human rights organizations remains important, the complicated political situation made it necessary to choose new areas in which to operate. The projects that they prefer are less politically sensitive, such as women’s programmes or general development programmes. By contrast, government donor agencies whose co-operation is based on trilateral contracts with the Egyptian government speak of fairly positive developments since September 11. By early 2002, the Egyptian government had given the green light to a number of projects which, before September 11, would have been regarded as interference in internal affairs and would have been met with considerable resistance. One example is a trainee programme for judges and public prosecutors in international law with a specific focus on human rights. Some of these courses are even taught by Egyptian human rights activists. However, such projects still seem to be exceptional. While discussing new co-operation strategies, the donors have begun to evaluate the successes and failures of their co-operation with the human rights organizations. The following statement is a good example of the selfcriticism being practised in relation to past funding decisions: In order to support civil society, the donor community backed an elite that does not represent even one-third of society. External funding transformed NGOs into a business, and anyone who understood how the international institutions functioned was able to launch a personal career. There have been always more funds than projects of substance on which to spend the money. Funding has become a political business… All that money has produced an entirely passive society. The so-called civil society is doing NGO business instead of struggling for its own cause.15 About 35 per cent of the donors interviewed stressed the need to initiate a dialogue and seek longer-term co-operation with institutions with the capacity to reach a wider audience, rather than concentrating exclusively on largely elite academic institutions. Originally, the beneficiaries of EU support for civil society were smaller grass-roots organizations that


operated in a more traditional setting and were closer to the everyday problems of ordinary people. In 1996, however, this strategy was abandoned following an increase in corruption and the failure of numerous projects. Since that time, the clear preference has been for co-operation with ‘professional’ NGOs, organizations which have adapted to, and often been trained by, the donor agencies’ co-operation structures. Co-operation in the field of human rights usually takes place at close quarters, and since nearly all donors are based in Cairo, their NGO partners are also based there, or have branches in the main cities. The concentration of funds in so limited an area has for years been a target of criticism. Yet although NGOs complain that little of the money distributed reaches neglected rural areas, they have hardly undertaken a critical appraisal of their own role. The majority of established urban NGOs adapted themselves to the system and accepted existing conditions. They admit that, until the introduction of the new NGO law, they themselves had no problem in finding external funding for their projects and were unworried by the fact that they have obtained the largest share of the available funds. Nevertheless, the controversial funding discussion has caused a stir and, in recent years, projects in the provinces have been considered more frequently. Co-operation with rural grass-roots organizations is regulated through the donors’ NGO partners in the cities. The established NGOs from Cairo function as mediators, either by opening branches in the provinces or by acting as umbrella organizations for the small rural grass-roots bodies. The donors were slow to discover that this umbrella system does not function quite as they had envisaged. It is certainly true that the small local institutions profit from the more experienced NGOs, especially with regard to the ‘know how’ of coping with international bureaucracies. However, there is a wide divergence between the basic interests of established NGOs working on an international level and the interest of rural grass-roots organizations. The latter complain that some umbrella organizations behave in such an authoritarian way towards their protégés that they would prefer to work under the direct control of the donors. Donors, therefore, need to reflect on new strategies for co-operation with rural organizations. Smaller donor organizations have already started to set up their own training programmes for rural activists. For the donors, co-operation with Islamic institutions was always considered complicated both because of the government’s resistance and of the risk of being accused of supporting radical Islamists. In this context, it is of interest that the donors questioned claimed to have little or no information on the structure and activities of Islamist organizations, despite the fact that most of them have been in the country for years and many of their human rights projects are concerned with religious issues (for example, women’s rights, family law, divorce and the Islamic shariah,


conflicts between Muslims and Christians, and so on). In the past, relatively few donor organizations were interested in dialogue with moderate Islamists. Since September 11, however, they have become increasingly aware of the importance of targeting such groups. Some international agencies have already started projects to promote religious dialogue. Yet even now, these projects hardly involve the lower levels of society and instead address those in leading positions—in academic or educational fields or in government. One reason for that is the hope that project participants, including the media, will act as intermediaries or multipliers. To this end, donor countries, private donors and foundations have made special funds available. As this sector is likely to be developed in the future, it is possible that some of the human rights organizations that are willing to co-operate will again be included. The Government It would be a simplification to claim that the Egyptian government has used September 11 solely in its own interest, which is to combat its main domestic opponents, the Islamists and critical human rights organizations. The mass arrest of suspected Islamists in the immediate aftermath of September 11 was a direct response to clearly formulated demands made by the United States. Here, Mubarak’s wish to co-operate in the struggle of the ‘Axis of Good’ against the ‘Axis of Evil’ was considerably more important than the question of whether those arrested had really been involved in terror networks. Only three months later, this policy was rewarded with generous financial aid from the donor community. On 3 January 2002, a White House spokesman declared that the US would spend up to $959 million on financial assistance for its ‘key partner in the peace process and the war on terror’ (Middle East International, 11 Jan. 2002). In February 2002, the international donor conference at Sinai stressed the importance of continuing co-operation on civil society programmes in order to prevent terrorism and agreed to provide special funds of up to $10 billion over a period of three years. Since that time, the number of prosecutions in Egypt has increased dramatically. A variety of opposition groups, mainly Islamists, leftists and civil society activists, have been charged on various grounds, including alleged attempts to murder government officials and overthrow the government. Recently, it has even been decided to put people on trial for seeking to support the Palestinian cause (Al-Ahram weekly, 20–26 June 2002). On the other hand, officials have signalled a new willingness to cooperate with donors working on trilateral contracts with the government and the NGOs, even on such hitherto sensitive issues as human rights, freedom of expression and structures of local government. This reflects a


policy, which goes back to the introduction of the Law of Associations, of allowing NGOs and donors to co-operate in civil society activities, provided that the government retains ultimate control. Conclusions and Outlook In the 1990s, the conditions for co-operation between human rights organizations and international donor agencies were almost ideal. The partnership within the framework of international adjustment programmes was based on western concepts and values which, because they were perceived to counterbalance the threat posed by the Islamist opposition, were acceptable to, and even welcomed by, the government. The state supported co-operation between international donors and NGOs so long as they reduced the cost of poverty alleviation and the social services. However, this approach was abandoned once the human rights organizations, backed by their international partners, began to criticize the government. Over several years, the government has attempted by different means to intervene in the alliances between NGOs and international donors which, increasingly, they came to dislike. In order to damage the reputation of the human rights organizations, the government accused them of Islamist leanings and of co-operating with radical religious groups. At the same time, care was taken not to offend the donors, whose support in relation to the economic and structural adjustment programmes was indispensable. However, prior to the introduction of the new Law of Associations, which provided a legal framework for state intervention in the relations between NGOs and international donors, these measures had hardly any impact. Yet once the law had been passed, most donors found it too difficult to cooperate with the very human rights organizations that they had previously regarded as their most competent partners in their efforts to promote democracy. In attempting to co-operate both with the government and its opponents, the donors had entered into obligations that were almost impossible to reconcile. This became apparent as soon as the new Law of Associations came into effect, in particular in the case of donors cooperating with the NGOs on a bilateral basis. By contrast, donors working on trilateral contracts enjoy significantly better conditions for co-operation with the government and even receive support and encouragement for human rights and other civil society projects. These developments indicate that both the Egyptian government and the donors have gone through a learning process. From the government’s perspective, the western concept of civil society remains unacceptable. Nevertheless, it has learned that financial support from the West depends on its willingness to allow a certain scope for democratic activity. At the same time, September 11 has provided an opportunity for


the government to influence and control the activities of donors and NGOs, of which it is making full use. This is the basis on which the Egyptian government is prepared to co-operate with the international donors on human rights projects that go further than previous civil society programmes. The donors, for their part, have learned, mainly through the experience gained in the Ibrahim case, that the government’s fear of losing political power must be taken seriously. Unless they are able to involve the government in new agendas for international co-operation, they will not be able to influence the future development of civil society. In this triangular conflict, it is the human rights organizations that appear to be the losers. But despite the various obstacles they face, the crisis also enables them to take a fresh look at their relationship with the international donors and to decide whether a partnership can succeed under radically changed conditions. More than one year has elapsed since the field research was undertaken for this study. To some extent, the findings represent just a snapshot of a crisis following the shock of September 11. In order to gain a more comprehensive picture of the status of human rights activities, it would be necessary to continue to investigate the changing conditions under which the various parties are attempting to operate. Since 2001, donor countries and the Egyptian government have been developing new directives for cooperation and have been planning specific projects to prevent and fight international terrorism. It would be of particular value to learn whether the human rights organizations have been accommodated in these new agendas, or whether, in the light of their disappointment, they have chosen to pursue the more independent alternatives that they were envisaging at the time of the field research. NOTES 1. My field research was part of the comparative study ‘The EU and the Promotion of Democracy: The Case of North Africa’. This project, under the direction of Richard Gillespie and Richard Youngs, was made possible thanks to the support of the European Commission (European Community Grant 98MAG447050). 2. Interviews were conducted with 14 NGOs active in the fields of human rights, women’s issues and worker and employee issues; seven private donor organizations, two governmental donor organizations (the United Nations Development Programme and the European Commission); three statefinanced development organizations (the Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit, USAID and International Labor Organization); and four German political foundations (the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, FriedrichNaumann-Stiftung, Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung and Hans-Seidel-Stiftung). 3. Arabic word signifying policy of (political) opening.


4. Interview in 1996 with a female lawyer, former activist in the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights, in El-Shorbagi [1997]. 5. Among the donors starting to establish contacts with Egyptian NGOs were British branches of Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, the French Federation Internationale des Droits de l’Homme and the American Lawyer’s Committee for Human Rights. 6. Human rights activities were quoted as ‘human rights business’ and their organizations labelled ‘butiqat huquq al-insan’ (human rights boutiques), for example, in the Egyptian daily newspapers al-Musawwar, 17 Feb. 1995; Ruz al-Yusuf, 1 Feb. 1996. 7. Interview with Hafez Sa’ada, secretary general of the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights, Cairo, Jan. 2002. 8. Interview with Nasser Amin, secretary general of the Arab Centre for the Independence of the Judiciary and the Legal Profession, Cairo, Jan. 2002. 9. Interview with Trine Pertou Mach, adviser to the European Commission on economic co-operation, Cairo, Jan. 2002. 10. Interview with Hafez Abu Sa’ada, Jan. 2002. 11. The sole exception is the Friedrich Ebert Foundation, which operates legally on the basis of a presidential decree. 12. The Friedrich Naumann Foundation operates on working contracts with the Ministry of Youth and Education, the Hans Seidel Foundation on a contract with the Ministry of Information and the Konrad Adenauer Foundation on contracts with Cairo University. These agreements do not, however, provide a secure legal status, which can only be achieved on the basis of contracts ratified by parliament. 13. Interview with Trine Pertou Mach, Jan. 2002. 14. Interview with Hafez Abu Sa’ada, Jan. 2002. 15. Interview with Friedrich Kramme-Stermose, resident representative of the Friedrich Ebert Foundation in Cairo, Jan. 2002.

REFERENCES Baker, R. (1990): Sadat and After: The Struggle for Egypt’s Political Soul, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bayat, A. (2002): ‘Activism and Social Development in the Middle East’, International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 34/1, pp.1–28. Brouwer, I. (2000): US Civil-Society Assistance to the Arab World: The Cases of Egypt and Palestine, Fiesole, Florence: EUI working paper RSC No.2000/5. El-Shorbagi, M. (1997): ‘Menschenrechtsarbeit in Ägypten’, unpublished report for the Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit (GTZ). Gerges, F. (2000): ‘The End of Islamist Insurgency in Egypt: Cost and Prospects’, The Middle East Journal 54/4, pp.592–612. Luebben, I. (2001): ‘Demokratie als Herschaftstechnik’, INAMO 26. Lutfi, A. (2001): ‘Parliamentary Elections: A Cairene Recipee’, Mediterranean Politics 6/1. Zaki, M. (1996): Civil Society and Democratization in Egypt, 1981–1994, Cairo: Konrad Adenauer Stiftung/Ibn Khadoun Center.

9 Democratization without Democracy? The Assistance of the European Union for Democratization Processes in Palestine STEPHAN STETTER

Is ‘democratization without democracy’ not a paradox? Does this phrase suggest that democratization is impossible without democracy, in other words that a democracy can only be built within the overall political context of a democracy? In that case, democratization of autocratic regimes, such as Palestine, would seem a rather hopeless endeavour and the efforts of the European Union (EU) to support such processes would, subsequently, be quite unlikely to bear any fruit. Rather than engage in a discussion on the societal and political prerequisites for successful democracy-building, this contribution will seek to draw attention to the welldocumented democracy-reform dilemma of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP). Thus, ‘democracy promotion strategies’ faced the problem that ‘the transition from authoritarian to democratic regime was most commonly an extremely destabilizing period, during which elites were often encouraged to offset internal strains’ [Gillespie and Youngs, 2002: 9].1 International actors, such as the EU, therefore constantly have to weigh the political costs of supporting stability in Mediterranean Partner Countries (MPCs) and thereby sustaining the ruling elites and political stability, on the one hand, against the demand for democratic reforms aimed at more transparency, pluralism and freedom in these countries, on the other. It is against the background of this democracy-reform dilemma that this contribution will analyse the EU’s support for democratization processes in Palestine, one of the mainly authoritarian MPCs. It is not suggested here, however, that democratization can be steered unilaterally by an external actor. As the rich body of literature on democratization processes has convincingly argued, the establishment of a democratic regime is primarily a domestic issue. Thus, without the political will of the Palestinian leadership and Palestinian civil society a democratization of Palestine is unlikely, if not impossible. External actors, such as the EU, cannot be a substitute for indispensable internal agents. Yet, ‘the contingency of political action is also bound by the international context. And also in that case it holds true: the external environmental setting can take the shape of restrictive or enhancing options’ [Merkel, 1994:324; author’s translation]. Consequently, the


analysis that follows acknowledges that most variables relating to the democratization of Palestine are of a domestic nature and that the EU alone clearly would not be able to establish a Palestinian democracy. However, it also argues that the huge financial assistance of the EU in Palestine renders ‘external democratization incentives’ one additional enhancing option of the transformation process; it is this external democratization stimulus, provided by the EU in the framework of its MEDA assistance, which this study aims to scrutinize.2 Some of the problems that the EU faced in developing this enhancing option in support of democratization in Palestine are indeed related to the aforementioned democracy-reform dilemma, as well as to the resistance of the Palestinian leadership with regard to democratic reforms. Thus, while the EU regularly calls in its official publications for the democratization of Palestine and provides for significant financial assistance for many individual projects devoted to democratization, its policies often speak another language. Obviously, the EU has a geo-strategic interest in political stability and, therefore, in a strong Palestinian leadership. Moreover, Yasser Arafat, up to now, has been seen by the EU as the main peace partner for Israel in the staggering peace process. Given the autocratic nature of the Palestinian political system and the lack of democratization pursued by its political leadership, the EU interest in domestic stability stands more often than not in direct contradiction with the goal of supporting the establishment of a viable democracy in Palestine. Additionally, since 11 September 2001, the fear of a rise of Islamic fundamentalism, which could profit from democratization, also pushes the pendulum of EU policies towards greater emphasis on stability. Notwithstanding the problems resulting from the democracy-reform dilemma and the resistance of the Palestinian leadership in providing for democratic reforms, the support for democratization processes in Palestine has also been undermined by shortcomings of the EU with regard to the implementation of financial assistance measures. The analysis of these implementation problems forms the backbone of this study. The main argument put forward is that the European Commission, which is responsible for the management of EU assistance, faced many problems when it came to the actual implementation of assistance measures that were meant to support democratization processes in Palestine. Moreover, many of these problems can be related to factors emanating from within the political system of the EU, namely the decision-making procedures in executive policy-making between the Commission and the member states. The perspective on EU politics adopted here is an institutionalist one, based on the assumption that institutions structure political action and outcomes. Institutionalist approaches, following March and Olson’s groundbreaking study on Rediscovering Institutions [1989], characterize institutions as ‘a set of rules and procedures which define the

THE DEMOCRATIZATION PROCESSES IN PALESTINE 159

appropriateness’ of individual actions [Koelble, 1995:233]. Thus, they not only assert that institutions matter, but argue that ‘much or all of political behavior and collective decision making is an artefact of the procedures used to make decisions’ [Immergut, 1998:8]. The identification of such a ‘bias in institutions’ is, however, only the theoretical starting point from which ‘institutionalists should discuss the direction and implications of this bias’ [Immergut, 1998:8]. Such an institutionalist perspective is applied to the management of EU assistance measures in support of democratization processes in Palestine, discussing the implications of EU institutions for the implementation of these policies on the ground. The analysis is divided in three parts. The following section focuses upon the issue of how the codes ‘democracy’ and ‘democratization’ have become part of the official EU rhetoric in its relations with the MPCs in general and Palestine in particular. The second part then offers an overview of concrete assistance measures for the societal transformation process in Palestine as provided for by the MEDA and MEDA Democracy programmes. The third part then comes up with an account of why the EU faced problems in implementing its assistance policies on the ground, arguing that many of these problems can be analysed by applying an institutionalist perspective on EU policy-making. Coding Democracy Traditionally, support for democratization processes in the Mediterranean basin has not been a primary goal of the EU’s development assistance policy towards that region. It was only with the EMP, which was launched at the Barcelona Conference of November 1995, that the primarily economic outlook of the EU’s Mediterranean policy was visibly supplemented, inter alia, by a stronger focus on political issues such as democracy and human rights. It should be noted, however, that prior to the Barcelona Conference, there were some individual policies that aimed at fostering democracy and civil society in MPCs. Thus, in 1992 the EU had initiated a set of so-called Med programmes of decentralized co-operation with civil society actors in MPCs [Giammusso, 1999]. These programmes—which were halted in 1996 following a report by the Court of Auditors on the mismanagement of funds and only re-launched in 1999—did have as one of their objectives the goal to ‘reinforce democracy and regional integration in the Mediterranean non-member States’ [Court of Auditors, 1996:3]. Moreover, on an initiative of the European Parliament in 1994, the MEDA Democracy programme, which provided for EU assistance to nongovernmental organizations in MPCs, was put in place in 1996. While these initiatives were not integrated, originally, into a larger political framework, the promotion of democracy in the southern Mediterranean has become an overarching element in all official


documents of the EMP. In particular, ‘democracy’ and ‘human rights’ have developed into code-words of the EMP. This greater emphasis on the need for democratization pays tribute to the observation that democracy is a scarce resource on the southern shores of the Mediterranean. Among the MPCs only the three states with applicant status (Cyprus, Malta, Turkey) and Israel have democratic regimes.3 Yet, in contrast to these four countries, the Arab MPCs are still autocratic, albeit with significant variation regarding the actual shape and extent of autocracy [Gillespie and Youngs, 2002]. The lack of political will in most Arab MPCs for entering into a credible democratization process poses a serious threat to the various goals of the EMP, such as political stability, regional co-operation, economic prosperity and social inclusion. In Palestine, for example, recent years have witnessed increased recourse to ‘authoritarian forms of authority based on traditional and patrimonial power structures’ at the expense of democratic reforms [Jamal, 2001:25]. The EU is certainly aware of the difficulties that democratization faces in Arab MPCs. It is therefore one of the immediate results of the EMP that the EU has acknowledged its responsibility to assist MPCs in the restructuring of these countries’ political, economic and social structures and has agreed to provide huge financial assistance to the region. Aid has more than doubled compared to the period prior to the Barcelona Conference. The EU cleared grants of 4.7 billion for a period of five years (1995–99) from the EU budget and loans from the European Investment Bank of 2.3 billion for a period of three years. The MEDA II period (2000– 6) has an overall budget of 5.4 billion, excluding loans from the Investment Bank. The MEDA funds comprise the bulk of aid across a wide range of issues. Article 3 of the MEDA I and MEDA II Regulations is devoted to the issue of democracy and stipulates that ‘this Regulation is based on respect for democratic principles and the rule of law and also for human rights and fundamental freedoms, which constitute an essential element thereof, the violation of which…will justify the adoption of appropriate measures’ [Council, 1996a; Council, 2000] .4 The MEDA Democracy funds were part of a separate Council Regulation [Council, 1999]. Yet, from a legal perspective they are closely linked with the MEDA Regulation through the democracy provisions therein [MEDA Democracy, 1999:48].5 Up to 2002, the MEDA Democracy Programme supported approximately 171 projects with an overall budget of 36 million. Thus, it has been true to say that ‘funds allocated to the MEDA Democracy Programme amount to no more than about one percent of the total funds allocated by the EU to support the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’ [EMHRN, 2000:5]. Notwithstanding this small share when compared to the overall EU assistance to the region, MEDA Democracy (now subsumed in the European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights [EIDHR]) has been an important element


for the promotion of democracy since grants have been distributed directly to civil society, without the formal involvement of governmental agencies. The rationale behind the EU’s aid policy is that the achievement of the goals of the EMP require increased political openness, economic growth and welfare conditions in MPCs. Such a situation should be triggered by a combination of domestic policy reforms, economic agreements and financial assistance by the EU [Barbé, 1998]. The Barcelona Conference of 1995 agreed on a declaration that established the EMP as the multilateral framework for relations between the EU and the 12 MPCs. The Barcelona Declaration states—without conferring legal obligations on the signatories —that all participants adhere to international law instruments such as the United Nations Charter and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, that they ‘develop the rule of law and democracy in their political systems’ and that they ‘respect human rights and fundamental freedoms and guarantee the effective legitimate exercise of such rights and freedoms’ [Euromed, 1995]. In order to achieve these goals the annex to the declaration contains a short reference to bilateral ‘political dialogue’, which forms part of the provisions of the association agreements between the EU and each individual MPC, and in which both sides should elaborate in detail the specific means of implementing the various objectives of the Barcelona Declaration referring to democratization. Notwithstanding the central role that ‘democracy’ has received within the Barcelona Declaration, a closer look at the work programme provokes some scepticism regarding the political will on both sides to put the issue of democracy at the centre of bilateral relations. In fact, the work programme contains almost exclusively projects in the economic sphere and makes only few references to democracy-building. Furthermore, subsequent ministerial meetings from La Valetta in 1996 to Valencia in 2002 have not suggested concrete steps which would render democracy a prime focus of the EMP [Euromed, 2000]. Thus, with regard to the development of democracy, it is mainly the bilateral level that is meant to form the institutional basis for an improvement of the situation in most MPCs. Accordingly, the association agreements contain provisions on a political dialogue between the two sides, EU and MPC. For example, Article 2 of the Interim Association Agreement between the EU and Palestine states that relations between the Parties, as well as all the provisions of the Agreement itself, shall be based on respect of democratic principles and fundamental human rights as set out in the universal declaration on human rights, which guides their internal and international policy and constitutes an essential element of this Agreement [Agreement, 1997].


The agreement also contains a conditionality clause which allows the EU to suspend the agreement in case of serious human rights’ violations or other breaches of the agreement [Youngs, 2002]. In its Common Strategy on the Mediterranean Region of June 2000, the EU did make repeated reference to ‘democracy’, but without adding substantially new elements to the provisions of the EMP. The Common Strategy states that one of its objectives is ‘to promote the core values embraced by the EU and its Member States, including human rights, democracy, good governance, transparency and the rule of law’ [European Council, 2000]. In summary, with the Barcelona Declaration, the issue of democratization of the Arab MPCs has for the first time become an explicit goal of EU Mediterranean policies. However, the attainment of this objective is a complex process in which the EU can only provide support but not be the agent of change. In other words, democratization has to originate from, and be sustained at, the domestic level. This might to some extent be different for Palestine. Against the background of the heavy reliance of the Palestinian Authority on EU assistance, it could be argued that the responsibility of the EU to support the transformation process in Palestine is much stronger than its political responsibility towards the other MPCs. Although the lack of meaningful democratization in Palestine and other MPCs since the Barcelona Declaration undermines the credibility of the optimistic ‘democracy’ and ‘human rights’ rhetoric of the EMP,6 the goal as such is still upheld and, indeed, the EU has taken a share of the responsibility in achieving this objective by supporting MPCs in the complex and thorny restructuring of their political, economic and social systems. It should also be emphasized that the EU has succeeded in putting political issues, such as human rights and democratization, on the negotiating table between the northern and southern shores of the Mediterranean. Once there, they are likely to remain as part of a ‘hidden agenda’ and to provide access points for those actors in Arab countries interested in democratization of their societies and often in urgent need of international support and recognition [Jünemann, 2002]. Yet the lack of improvement with regard to democratic reform casts serious doubts on the impact that EU assistance can actually have on the ground. Seen positively, EU aid does support some of those actors interested in the democratization of their countries. There is, however, also a more pessimistic perspective: the lack of progress in the democratization of Arab societies documents a ‘political failure’ of the Barcelona Process [Dauderstädt, 2002:3]. Moreover, there is a striking gap between the optimistic, democracyoriented language in the official statements of the EMP, on the one hand, and the actual situation on the ground, on the other, and this gap could


provide fertile ground for yet another ‘capability-expectation gap’ in the case of EU foreign policies [Hill, 1993]. EU Support for Democratization in Palestine The situation in Palestine with regard to the fostering of democracy and human rights has hardly improved since the Barcelona Conference. On the contrary, it has worsened both as a result of domestic decisions of the Palestinian leadership and the collapse of the peace process with Israel. Yet the international situation in general and occupation in particular should not be used as an excuse for a lack of democracy [Jamal, 2001]. Notwithstanding the constraints posed by the ongoing occupation, such an approach only serves to camouflage the interest of autocratic elites in preventing the emergence of a domestic dialogue on pluralism, human rights and democracy. As Asseburg notes regarding democratization in Palestine, ‘the rule of law, a transparent and democratic process of decisionmaking and good governance are, however, even in a situation of an ongoing struggle for independence not a luxury’ [Asseburg, 2002:4; author’s translation]. Particular problems regarding the state of democracy in Palestine were seen in the areas of rule of law, freedom of expression, parliamentary democracy, women’s rights and support for civil society [MEDA Democracy, 1999:137]. The EU has supported a huge amount of projects meant to improve the social, economic and political situation in Palestine. Indeed, there is no other country in the world that has received as much assistance from the EU as Palestine. If the assistance from the EU member states is added to these figures, the EU has during 1994–99 committed more than €2 billion to the region, constituting approximately half of all international contributions [West Bank and Gaza, 2000:6]. Moreover, the funds allocated to Palestine amount to more than ten per cent of the overall MEDA budget. With regard to the MEDA Democracy funds the share is even higher at around 20 per cent of all funds committed. This is by far the greatest per capita support the EU grants to any country in the world, including those in central and eastern Europe. The ratio between per capita contributions to Palestine in comparison with the average per capita assistance for all Mediterranean countries is around 23:1 for the MEDA funds and 12:1 for MEDA Democracy. The allocation of MEDA and MEDA Democracy assistance to Palestine is regulated by a complex set of legal documents which comprises nine layers of multilateral and bilateral agreements as well as EU internal provisions. Table 1 presents an overview of the legal framework for the implementation of MEDA and MEDA Democracy assistance to Palestine. Thus, the first layer is the Barcelona Declaration which sets out the goals of the multilateral EMP. Continuity and consistency with the overall


objectives of the EMP are overseen by the Barcelona Committee of representatives of the EU Troika and the 12 MPCs. The Barcelona Committee also follows up progress with regard to the conclusion of the bilateral association agreements, which gradually have been replacing the traditional co-operation agreements. These association agreements have a more political and strategic design than their predecessors and establish an institutional framework for political dialogue between the EU and the MPCs. They entail provisions for the liberalization of trade, the improvement of social conditions in the MPCs and the promotion of regional co-operation. The association agreements also equip the EU with a suspension clause in case MPCs do not comply with the democratic requirements [Zaim, 1999]. The scope of the association agreement between the EU and Palestine is more limited than that of those between the EU and the other MPCs. Fully-fledged agreements were only concluded between the EU and states, whereas the agreement with Palestine is closer in content to the pre-Barcelona co-operation agreements. Notwithstanding the different legal scope between these two kinds of agreements, the EU decided to use the same title as for regular association agreements with other MPCs in an attempt to document its recognition of the Palestinian Authority as a government on an equal footing with the governments of the other MPCs [Paasivirta, 1999]. Consequently, the officially termed ‘economic dialogue’ between the EU and Palestine in the Joint Committee also deals with political issues, such as the Palestinian-Israeli conflict [Euromed Synopsis, 2000b:1]. For its internal co-ordination of the EMP the EU established the so-called MED Committee which comprises representatives from the 15 member states and the Commission. The main objective of the MED Committee is to control the implementation of the EU’s main assistance policy towards MPCs which takes place in the framework of the MEDA and (until recently) MEDA Democracy Regulations. These Regulations translate ‘the Barcelona Declaration into the rules that govern the Commission’s management of financial and technical measures’ for the achievement of the goals of the EMP [COWI, 1998:14]. Out of the nine layers relating to financial assistance, bilateral and multilateral modes of decision-making only relate to four of these layers. This underlines the extent to which EU external assistance depends upon unilateral co-ordination between the Commission and EU member states within the MED Committee. The main elements of assistance to MPCs in general and to Palestine in particular have been specified in the Council decision on Guidelines for Indicative Programmes, in which National and Regional Indicative Programmes are defined [Council, 1996b]. National Indicative Programmes are documents in which the Commission outlines, in cooperation with each partner country, the individual country’s particular

TABLE 1 LEGAL SET-UP OF EU ASSISTANCE TO PALESTINE


needs for EU assistance. Each National Indicative Programme is supervised by the MED Committee. For example, in its relations with Palestine, the National Indicative Programme for 2000–2 sets out reference amounts and priority sectors for financial assistance and focuses on projects in the areas of ‘infrastructure, private sector development, national resources management and institutional capacity building’ [Euromed Synopsis, 2000a:2]. On the basis of these National Indicative Programmes, the Commission then negotiates Financing Framework Conventions with the MPCs. It then presents Financing Proposals for concrete projects and programmes to the MED Committee. The latter issues its opinion on the basis of which the Commission can then negotiate concrete Financing Agreements. These agreements are the legal precondition on the side of the EU for the actual allocation of funds and are binding legal acts that set ‘out the obligations of the signatories’ [COWI, 1998:16]. In a final stage beneficiaries in the partner countries can apply for tender contracts.7 Between 1994 and 1998 the EU provided a total of €440 million of assistance to Palestine (excluding loans from the European Investment Bank). Out of this sum, some €6 million, that is, 1.4 per cent, were explicitly devoted to ‘human rights/democracy’ projects. This amount is roughly the overall share of MEDA Democracy funds in relation to overall MEDA assistance. Assistance from the MEDA budget in areas related to democracy promotion also has a considerable role to play. The EU has committed €22.5 million (5.1 per cent) of assistance to ‘institutional building’, €50 million (11.4 per cent) in support of ‘municipalities’, while the ‘private sector’ received €22 million (five per cent). ‘Elections’ were supported with €12.9 million (2.9 per cent) ‘TV/ Radio’ with €1.5 million (0.3 per cent) and ‘MED/PEACE Networks’ with €8.3 million (1.9 per cent). Support for ‘education/running costs’ comprised €114 million, that is, 26 per cent of all assistance. Thus, the various measures that directly or indirectly relate to democratization processes comprised around 231.2 million or 52.6 per cent of all assistance to Palestine in 1994–98. Notwithstanding this huge amount of democracy-related assistance, EU financial support on the ground has often stabilized existing autocratic political structures, thus providing further evidence of the existence of the democracy-reform dilemma inherent in the EMP.8 EU financial assistance in the educational sector is a good example. Assistance in this area was originally highlighted in the National Indicative Programmes as a priority area for external support measures for domestic democratization, but at the implementation level has largely aimed to cover recurrent costs, and can therefore be characterized as hidden budgetary support which stabilizes a key sector of Palestinian society, thereby releasing domestic


reform pressure from the Palestinian leadership [West Bank and Gaza, 2000]. How Successful was MEDA Democracy Promotion? The problems the EU faced in its assistance have to be seen against the background of the failure of the Palestinian leadership to engage in a meaningful democratization of Palestine. On the one hand, MEDA and MEDA Democracy projects were designed to improve, either directly or indirectly, the state of democracy and human rights in Palestine. On the other hand, the EU supported a Palestinian leadership—often uncritically— which showed in a remarkably open way its lack of interest in domestic democratic reforms. Despite their ambitious objectives, the actual implementation of MEDA and MEDA Democracy have suffered from several shortcomings.9 Various implementation problems hampered the contribution that the EU promised to make in support of the restructuring of MPC political, social and economic structures. Many of these shortcomings emanate from within the institutional structure of the EU foreign affairs’ system, mainly from cumbersome political procedures regulating relations within the MED Committee, between the Commission on the one hand and member states on the other.10 The political consequences of the difficulties with regard to the implementation of MEDA are noteworthy. Only by the end of 1998 were ‘the legal and procedural requirements for the implementation of the MEDA Programme’ available, more than three years after the announcement of the aid package at the Cannes Summit and the Barcelona Conference [MEDA, 1999:44]. Moreover, the coherence between MEDA projects and the overall objectives of the EMP remained very limited. Priority was not given to ‘EMP goal-consistent sectors’ but often to demands from MPCs. This regularly reflected governmental interest in highly visible infrastructure projects which were not outlined as priority areas in the National and Regional Indicative Programmes [MEDA, 1999: 27]. In the case where a government was not willing to embark on a project of domestic reforms, priority areas identified by the National Indicative Programmes could hardly be implemented. However, the overall consistency of projects with the MEDA requirements improved towards the end of the five-year MEDA I period. This improvement has been attributed to a learning process mitigated through intensified political dialogue between the Commission and MPCs, for example in the Palestinian-EU Joint Committee.11 A similar problem appeared also with regard to the commitments for projects and the financial requirements for effective implementation on which there was agreement between the Commission and each individual


MPC. A timely implementation of projects again suffered from the overcomplex committee procedures between the Commission and the member states [MEDA, 1999:43]. The Commission, furthermore, faced administrative problems of implementation. In particular, tender procedures for the MEDA funds were cumbersome, which rendered the implementation of MEDA projects more complex than initially foreseen. Thus, there was a need for greater monitoring from the Commission than originally planned, which, however, the Commission was not able to meet through its own human resources [MEDA, 1999:47].12 This criticism of the gap between the ambitious political goals of the EU as they were, for example, defined in the Common Strategy and the actual implementation of MEDA by the EU on the ground should not, however, lead to the conclusion that problems of staffing or inter-institutional interaction could be avoided completely. Politics is a process of complex interaction and necessarily consumes time. Nevertheless, observations from the MEDA A case show that some of the implementation problems could have been avoided without harming the inter-institutional balance between supranational institutions and member states, on the one hand, or the efficiency of policies, on the other. The critique put forward here should not be mistaken either for a general rejection of MEDA and MEDA Democracy. Actually, both programmes (the latter now subsumed in the EIDHR) have been an improvement on previous assistance measures and the overall direction of assistance for non-governmental actors. Carefully analysed priority areas in the political, social and economic realms of each partner country are an improvement on the financial assistance prior to the Barcelona Conference [MEDA, 1999]. Yet, there is some indication that the perspective from the South might be different: MED partners have so far not felt this considerable increase when it comes to disbursements received. Partners’ concern [sic] are thus based on the objective fact that from 1995 to the end of 1998, a modest MECU 732 will be spent…of the total MEDA reference figure of MECU 3,424.5 for the period 1995–99 [COWI, 1998:42]. Disbursement to Palestine in that period was higher than for other Mediterranean countries and amounted to around 48 per cent of commitments, more than double the average for all Mediterranean countries. What were the internal reasons explaining why from 1995–98 only 25.1 per cent of the promised assistance for the whole Mediterranean region and only 48 per cent for Palestine had been allocated? Implementation of EU assistance had already been criticized for its disbursement of funds during the protocol period, which pre-dated the EMP. Thus, it is striking that the much more demanding procedures for EU


assistance under the MEDA regime were not accompanied by a streamlining of institutional structures. On the contrary, more complex programmes were added to the Commission’s workload without consideration of how this would affect the operation of projects. The MEDA Regulation stipulates the different levels at which the member states, within the MED Committee, are to be involved. These are: (1) The strategic level of indicative programming by adoption of the Regional and National Indicative Programmes and their annually updated versions; (2) The operational level of Financing Decisions and amendments above financial thresholds by approval of individual Financing Protocols; (3) The implementation level concerning informational requirements for tendering procedures and the manual of tender procedures. When deciding on National and Regional Indicative Programmes, the MED Committee approves, on the Commission’s suggestion, ‘sector priorities for a Project…portfolio according to country-specific and regional sector policy criteria’ [MEDA, 1999:21]. While the co-ordination between member states and the Commission at the strategic level is important to ensure the achievement of the overall objectives of EU developmental policies, this is not to the same extent valid for involvement of member states at the operational and implementation level. Thus, with regard to commitments of the Commission concerning individual projects, the specific involvement of the MED Committee created many significant delays in implementation [MEDA, 1999:36]. Problems at the operational and implementation level are exacerbated by the lack of co-ordination between EU and member state developmental assistance to MPCs. Despite the close overviewing by the MED Committee, there is no real co-ordination at the planning stage of projects. Thus, ‘co-ordination efforts to improve coherence and complementarity among projects…are not yet integrated into the Commission’s strategic programming process’ [MEDA, 1999:37]. Moreover, the demand of the MEDA Regulation and the Guidelines to define priority sectors on a national/regional basis only applies at the EU level and not to member state policies. This decreases the effectiveness of the strategic planning approach which is undermined by the lack of ‘harmonisation and co-ordination of strategic sector policy approaches…in key sectors of common interest to the Commission and the Member States’ [MEDA, 1999:37]. Overall, the commitment procedures of the MEDA Regulations created a time-consuming workload of information and communication exercises for both the Commission and the member states. The outcome of this communication process is questionable since member states were usually only informed about the ‘intermediary status’ of projects but were not


willing or able to really engage in discussion on ‘substantial, policy-related issues’ [MEDA, 1999:38]. Nevertheless, this information exercise took the form of huge reports prepared by the Commission, which required a heavy input of human resources which were consequently not available for reducing the time delays in negotiating and implementing the necessary agreements for introducing MEDA assistance. Moreover, the involvement of the MED Committee has resulted in often inefficient ‘extra operational work-load’ for the Commission [MEDA, 1999:39]. This has actually hampered the effectiveness of the Committee system since the MED Committee was involved in micro-financing decisionmaking while losing track of ensuring the ‘coherence and consistency of strategic programming’ [MEDA, 1999:39]. A similar criticism was raised with regard to the time-consuming control by the MED Committee during the implementation stage, for example when deciding on tender procedures for individual projects [MEDA, 1999:47]. While the Commission was closely controlled in its decision-making, the reverse did not happen, ‘i.e. that Member States programmes be planned in co-ordination of complementarity with Commission programmes… It would perhaps appear to be an infringement on the Member States’ highly sensitive foreign policies’ [MEDA, 1999:90]. Effective policy-making was weakened by this strong involvement of the MED Committee at the individual project level since it reduced the capacities of the Committee to deal with proper planning of projects on the strategic level. Instead of agreeing on a joint European approach, ‘some countries…favour bilateral relations with Member States above relations with the EU’ [MEDA, 1999:98]. Relations between EU member states and individual MPCs were, consequently, also reflecting divergent interests amongst EU member states on the issue of democratization of MPCs. This has from the outset also influenced the EMP. ‘Indeed, at Barcelona southern EU states reportedly expressed a willingness to exclude references to democracy and agreed to insist on such a commitment only after northern states sanctioned new aid funding for the region’ [Youngs, 2002: 44]. It has been estimated that insufficient procedures within the MED Committee resulted in a delay of around one year with regard to the implementation of MEDA assistance [MEDA, 1999:57]. This figure points to a problematic emphasis in the workload of both the Commission (preparing interim reports for the MED Committee) and the committee itself (dealing with too many details). A shift towards more co-operation at the strategic planning level seems the more justified since the rate of approval for projects suggested by the Commission is already high. Out of 87 projects throughout the Mediterranean region in 1995–97, the committee approved 38 unanimously and another 39 with some qualified suggestions;


only nine had to be redrafted, but were then approved; and only one project was turned down [COWI, 1998:33]. A second area in which the institutional structure of the EU system caused time delays was the strict requirements for financing projects. The misuse and maladministration of funds during the protocol period explains why such a complex system as the MEDA assistance had been established. The problem of the new procedures, however, was that the Commission was now confronted with an even greater workload—negotiating financing provision with MPCs and communicating these negotiations to the MED Committee—without a real change in the human resources at its disposal. The disbursement of funds for individual MEDA projects required the conclusion of the aforementioned Financing Framework Conventions. These conventions ‘were agreed upon between the Commission and the individual Med Countries between July 1997 and 1998’ [MEDA, 1999: 34]. Although the allocation of funds depended on the prior conclusion of Financing Framework Conventions, the Commission did, owing to its workload, commence with negotiations on the conventions only in 1997 although the MEDA I Regulation had been passed more than one year earlier. This case shows that it was not only the late adoption of the Regulation and the Guidelines that hampered the disbursement, but in particular the inability of the Commission to prevent the ‘late conclusion of the Financing Framework Conventions’, which also led to delays in the conclusion of tender contracts [MEDA, 1999:44]. Of course, the delays are not entirely the fault of the Commission since MPC governments often used negotiations on the conventions, as well as tender procedures, to regain alleged losses from negotiations on the association agreements. ‘If one party feels manipulated and dominated in a negotiation due to the other party’s disproportionate advantage (in this case, the power to allocate MEDA funds), then this party will try to move the negotiation to another field where it has the upper hand. It appears that, generally speaking, the Framework Convention (FC) became this alternative field for negotiation’ [MEDA, 1999:86]. Moreover, MPCs also had to accommodate the increased quantitative and qualitative scope of EU assistance after the Barcelona Conference and simply lacked prior experience in dealing with complex project regulations such as those of MEDA. EU procedures, not only from the outside, often appeared as a labyrinth of legal and technical requirements which also rendered project implementation on the side of MPCs an arduous task. Besides the time delays and problems in co-ordination within the MED Committee, the aforementioned problems with regard to the implementation of MEDA assistance have, on several occasions, highlighted the work-load of the Commission. This is the third factor that emanates from within the EU system of governance. The MEDA case actually shows that the Commission was faced with a double dilemma


resulting from the requirements of complex and time-consuming procedures, on the one hand, and lack of human resources, on the other hand. The Commission was only able to employ additional staff for the implementation of the MEDA funds in 1998 when country-based MEDA teams were formed [COWI, 1998:41]. These MEDA teams had to deal with the allocation of funds, which tripled in comparison with the funds available during the protocol period [COWI, 1998:49]. While the MEDA teams were useful in improving facilitating work on the operational and implementation level, they could not contribute to a more effective approach with regard to the strategic level of planning. Even after the launch of MEDA assistance the Commission did little for the development of proper ‘strategic planning instruments’ [MEDA, 1999:32]. The Commission faced problems in developing clear objectives for MEDA assistance in specific sectors. There was no structured planning with regard to overall sector priorities. Moreover, the delegations were also not able to adjust projects to the ‘individual country’s “evolving needs”’ [MEDA, 1999:66]. In the light of these uncertainties and the absence of a ‘programming-and-monitoring unit of the Commission’, ‘Delegation staff … prefer to stick to what they know… The MEDA Regulation definitely underestimated the inertia of the well-established system of Protocols’ [MEDA, 1999:73]. The multi-annual programming of MEDA even supported these conservative working methods. Delegations felt under immense time pressure to inform the Directorate General about projects for fund commitments because ‘otherwise, the funds earmarked for MEDA could be “lost” for “their Country” by the end of the Financial Year, and for the General Budget by the end of 1999’ [MEDA, 1999:73]. Conclusion The implementation of MEDA assistance was severely hampered by factors emanating from within the institutional set-up of the EU’s foreign affairs system. First, the committee procedures, which were established to oversee the Commission’s executive work in negotiating and implementing MEDA assistance, reveal a control approach by member states that actually undermined the efficiency of policy-making. At the same time, the MED Committee was not able to concentrate upon elaborating jointly with the Commission clear sector priorities for each country. Moreover, the oversight procedures relating to development aid are unilateral. The cited examples show that complementarity and co-ordination are not ensured, owing to the sovereignty of member states which enables them to pursue their own developmental policies without any meaningful co-ordination at the EU level.


Secondly, implementation was also held up by cumbersome negotiations with MPCs and a parallel process of keeping the MED Committee informed. Thirdly, the Commission faced problems from too few human resources of its own, both at the desk level in Brussels and in the Delegations. This resulted in many cases in project selection similar to that during the protocol period but not according to the new MEDA requirements. In the process of implementing MEDA assistance the EU is confronted with the dilemma of trying to maintain a balance between efficiency and speed of implementation on the ground, on the one hand, and the requirements emanating from the EU internal balance of power, on the other. The results of this evaluation of MEDA and MEDA-Democracy assistance also apply to the projects funded in Palestine under these two programmes. Yet, although the EU faced many problems in delivering on its commitments to support domestic democratization, the mere existence of a political approach by the EU to the issue of democratization in MPCs in general, and in Palestine in particular, is remarkable. It should not be forgotten that the EU itself is undergoing a deep political transformation. Thus, integration at the EU level of an erstwhile entirely national policy area such as foreign affairs is an outstanding example of the political will in Europe to overcome the traditional national focus on relations with third countries. Seen from this perspective, the various pitfalls and deadlocks within the political system of the EU with regard to developmental assistance are hardly surprising and might even be a necessary institutional mechanism in a possibly transitional period towards a single European foreign policy. However, several years after the Barcelona Conference, the EU is well advised to take note both of the lack of democratization in the Arab partner countries of the EMP, and of its own problems in implementing democracy promotion policies. It is questionable whether the optimistic language of the Barcelona Declaration and subsequent official documents of the EU really reflects the situation on the ground or rather provides camouflage for autocratic regimes. Even worse, assistance to Palestine seems to have strengthened the rent-seeking attitude of a non-democratic government at the expense of domestic reform efforts [Dauderstädt, 2002: 4]. On the other hand, it also has to be emphasized that from a southern perspective the EMP is far from being an ‘ideal contract’. European demands for openness and democratization would probably have been taken more seriously if the EU itself had shown more commitment to openness and justice in its relations with Arab countries, for example in the field of agricultural trade, migratory movements, inter-cultural dialogue and support for domestic and regional economic development.


NOTES The author would like to thank Muriel Asseburg, Béchir Chourou, Dan Crowell, Richard Gillespie, Simon Hix, Annette Jünemann, Jan-Hinrik Meyer-Sahling, Alfred Tovias and William Wallace for their helpful and critical comments on this study. 1. While the EU talks in its official statements about assistance towards democratization, the reality on the ground in Palestine and other Arab MPCs is rather one of long-term democracy promotion. Developments in Palestine in recent years did, however, suggest that even democracy promotion faces serious obstacles, including the triple challenge of autocratic leadership, Islamic fundamentalism and occupation. Domestic steps towards democratization, emanating from within the Palestinian Legislative Council and parts of Palestinian civil society, as well as recent attempts to reform the Palestinian governmental structures are, however, an encouraging sign of an internal reform potential. 2. MEDA stands for mesure d’ajustement and is the legal framework for the bulk of EU aid to MPCs across a wide range of sectors. 3. It should be noted that the rights of Kurdish and Palestinian citizens in Turkey and Israel do not always meet EU standards since the dominance of one ethnic group of citizens is on many societal levels strongly institutionalized. This phenomenon has led some authors to introduce the concept of an ‘ethnic democracy’ to describe such a majority-minority relationship in democratic countries [cf. for Israel: Smooha, 2001]. 4. Henceforth MEDA I and MEDA II. 5. See MEDA I. 6. Notwithstanding the ubiquitous presence of autocracy in Arab MPCs, there is a considerable variation between these countries with regard to the degree to which they have allowed political openness, pluralism and freedom. Thus, ‘the region is marked by diverse political regimes, economic structures and societies’. Whereas Morocco and Jordan are often mentioned as countries that exhibit some signs of democratization, Egypt, Algeria, Tunisia and also Palestine are seen to show ‘various symptoms of retreat’ from democratic reforms, whereas Tunisia, Syria and Lebanon exhibit very rigid authoritarian structures [Gillespie and Youngs, 2002:4]. 7. In addition to EU support to MPCs via the EU budget, assistance takes the form of loans from the European Investment Bank. 8. In the light of the freezing of transactions by Israel of custom duties revenues since the beginning of the Al-Aqsa Intifada, the EU decided to transfer direct budgetary support of 10 million a month to the Palestinian Authority. These transactions started in July 2001 and they document the changing prioritization of the EU from project funding towards government stabilization. Investigations by the German weekly Die Zeit suggested that these transactions were used by the Palestinian leadership to support terrorist activities. This accusation was strongly rejected, however, by the Palestinian Authority and the Commission [Kleine-Brockhoff and Schirra, 2002].


9. An earlier version of the evaluation in this section was presented at the workshop on ‘Economic Policies to Stimulate Trade and Investment Cooperation among the EU’s Mediterranean Partner Countries’ at the Third Mediterranean Social and Political Research Meeting at the European University Institute in Florence in March 2002. It will be published in the Jean Monnet working paper series of the Robert Schumann Centre for Advanced Studies at the European University Institute. 10. The MEDA evaluation report looks at MEDA assistance throughout the Mediterranean region. The results of this analysis, nevertheless, also illustrate the experience of the implementation of EU assistance in Palestine. 11. Interviews with Commission officials, Brussels and Tel Aviv, May-July 2000. 12. It remains to be seen to what extent the internal restructuring process within the Commission regarding its foreign policies, as well as the establishment of EuropeAid (bringing together developmental assistance competencies previously spread across five directorate-generals), will be able to improve the implementation of assistance.

REFERENCES Books and Articles Asseburg, M. (2001): ‘Der Nahost-Friedensprozess und der Beitrag der EU—Bilanz und Perspektiven’, Die Friedens-Warte 76/2–3, pp.257–88. Asseburg, M. (2002): ‘Ein Neuanfang im Nahost-Friedensprozeß? Innere Reformen und internationales Engagement’, SWP-Aktuell 17. Barbé, E. (1998): ‘Balancing Europe’s Eastern and Southern Dimension’, in J.Zielonka (ed.), Paradoxes of European Foreign Policy, The Hague: Kluwer Law International. Dauderstädt, M. (2002): ‘EU-Mittelmeerpolitik nach dem 11. September; Vom Verfolgungswahn zur Verfolgungsjagd’, http://fesportal.fes.de/pls/portal30/ documents/mittelmeer_0.htm. Giammusso, M. (1999): ‘Civil Society Initiatives and Prospects of Economic Development: The Euro-Mediterranean Decentralized Co-operation Networks’, Mediterranean Politics 4/1, pp.25–52. Gillespie, R. and R.Youngs (2002): ‘Themes in European Democracy Promotion’, Democratization 9/1, pp.1–16. Hill, C. (1993): ‘The Capability-Expectation Gap, or Conceptualizing Europe’s International Role’, Journal of Common Market Studies 31/3, pp.305–28. Immergut, E.M. (1998): ‘The Theoretical Core of the New Institutionalism’, Politics & Society 26/1, pp.5–34. Jamal, A. (2001): ‘State-Building, Institutionalization and Democracy: The Palestinian Experience’, Mediterranean Politics 6/3, pp.1–30. Jünemann, A. (2002): ‘From the Bottom to the Top: Civil Society and Transnational Non-governmental Organizations in the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, Democratization 9/1, pp.87–105. Kleine-Brockhoff, T. and B.Schirra (2002): ‘Arafat bombt, Europa zahlt’, Die Zeit 24, http://www.zeit.de/2002/24/Politik/200224_arafat_haupttext.html.


Koelble, T.A. (1995): ‘The New Institutionalism in Political Science and Sociology’, Comparative Politics 27/2, pp.231–43. March, J.G. and J.P.Olson (1989), Rediscovering Institutions: The Organizational Basis of Politics, New York: Free Press. Merkel, W. (ed.) (1994): Systemwechsel 1: Theorien, Ansätze und Konzeptionen, Opladen: Leske & Budrich. Paasivirta, E. (1999): ‘EU Trading with Israel and Palestine: Parallel Legal Frameworks and Triangular Issues’, European Foreign Affairs Review 4/3, pp.305–26. Smooha, S. (2001): The Model of Ethnic Democracy, Flensburg: European Centre for Minority Issues. Youngs, R. (2002): ‘The European Union and Democracy Promotion in the Mediterranean: A New or Disingenuous Strategy?’ Democratization 9/1, pp.40–62. Zaim, F. (1999): ‘The Third Generation of Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements: A View from the South’, Mediterranean Politics 4/2, pp.36–52. Official Documents Agreement (1997): ‘Interim Association Agreement between the European Community and the Palestinian Liberation Organisation’, OJ L 187, 16 July, pp.3–135. Council (1996a): ‘Council Regulation (EC) No 1488/96 of 23 July 1996 on financial and technical measures to accompany (MEDA) the reform of economic and social structures in the framework of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, OJ L 189, 30 July 1996, pp.1–9. Council (1996b): ‘Council Decision of 06 December 1996 concerning the adoption of the guidelines for the indicative programmes concerning financial and technical measures to accompany (MEDA) the reform of economic and social structures in the framework of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, OJ L 325, 14 Dec. 1996, pp.20–26. Council (1999): ‘Council Regulation (EC) No 975/1999 of 29 April 1999 laying down the requirements for the implementation of development cooperation operations which contribute to the general objective of developing and consolidating democracy and the rule of law and to that of respecting human rights and fundamental freedoms’, OJ L 120, 8 May 1999, pp.1–7. Council (2000): ‘Council Regulation (EC) 2698/2000 of 27 November 2000 amending Regulation (EC) No 1488/96 on financial and technical measures to accompany (MEDA) the reform of economic and social structures in the framework of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, OJ L 311, 12 Dec. 2000, pp.1–8. Court of Auditors (1996): ‘Special Report No. 1/96 on the MED Programmes together with the Commission replies’, OJ C 240, 19 Aug. 1996, pp.1–32. COWI (1998): ‘Evaluation of Aspects of EU Development Aid to the MED Region, Final Synthesis Report’, COWI, Consulting Engineers and Planners (Denmark) in association with Netherlands Economic Institute (the Netherlands) and Andante (Sweden).


EMHRN (2000): ‘The MEDA Democracy Program: Recomrnendations by the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Network (EMHRN) to the European Commission, the European Parliament and the EU member states regarding the MEDA Democracy Programme’, Copenhagen: EMHRN. Euromed (1995): ‘Barcelona Declaration’, www.euromed.net/key-docs/ barcelona.htm. Euromed (2000): ‘Fourth Euro-Mediterranean Conference of Foreign Ministers (Marseille, 15 and 16 November 2000)’, Press Release: Brussels, Press: 439—Nr: 13434/00. Euromed Synopsis (2000a): ‘Issue 122, 8 December 2000’, MEDA Team on behalf of the European Commission (External Relations DG, Unit F.1). Euromed Synopsis (2000b): ‘Issue 123, 15 December 2000’, MEDA Team on behalf of the European Commission (External Relations DG, Unit F.1). European Commission (2000): ‘Communication of the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament for the Preparation of the Fourth EuroMediterranean Meeting of Foreign Ministers: Reinvigorating the Barcelona Process’, COM(2000) 497 fin. European Council (2000): ‘Common Strategy of the European Council of 19 June 2000 on the Mediterranean Region (2000/458/CFSP)’, OJ L 183, 22 July 2000, pp.5–10. MEDA (1999): ‘Evaluation of the MEDA Regulation, Final Report’, by W.Euchner, N.Garrigue and N.Petropoulos. MEDA Democracy (1999): ‘Evaluation of the MEDA Democracy Programme 1996–1998’, by N.Karkutli and D.Bützler. West Bank and Gaza (2000): ‘Evaluation of the European Community’s Programme of Assistance to the West Bank and Gaza Strip’.

10 The EU and the Middle East Conflict: Tackling the Main Obstacle to EuroMediterranean Partnership MURIEL ASSEBURG

Over the past few years, the Middle East (or Arab-Israeli) conflict has proven to be one of the main stumbling blocks for progress in the EuroMediterranean Partnership (EMP).1 The stalemate in the Middle East peace process (MEPP) since the Netanyahu period (1996–99) and, particularly, the repercussions of the violent confrontations between Israel and the Palestinians since late September 2000 have been felt strongly in the EMP. The Marseilles meeting of Euro-Med foreign ministers in November 2000, for the first time, could no longer assemble around the same table all the parties to the Middle East conflict (the Syrian and Lebanese representatives did not attend in protest at the Israeli military reaction to the Intifada). At the same time, the adoption of the ‘Mediterranean Charter for Peace and Stability’, anticipated to occur during this event, failed to take place. Since then, it has become ever more evident that the objectives of confidencebuilding and regional stabilization in the Mediterranean cannot be met in the absence of a genuine peace process or even a political solution to the core conflict in the Middle East. What, then, has the European Union done to overcome this stumbling block for one of its most ambitious and complex foreign policy projects, the EMP? In order to answer this question, this contribution will first assess EU policies in support of the MEPP during the early years following Oslo.2 In order to avoid the all too frequent generalizations made about the complete ineffectiveness of the European engagement, EU policies will be broken down into three main dimensions: (1) Financial and economic support for the peace process; (2) Support for Palestinian state- and institution-building; and (3) Efforts at regional stabilization and the search for multilateral solutions.3 In the second section, the assessment focuses on the recent EU engagement after the collapse of the bilateral peace process. With the collapse of the Oslo Process and the outbreak of the second (or Al-Aqsa) Intifada, there was a major shift in the EU’s approach. The Union redirected its financial


support towards emergency and humanitarian aid and assumed a more political role, both in the field of crisis intervention and of international diplomacy, as it searched for a way out of the cycle of violence. During 2002, however, these efforts did not translate into tangible progress on the ground; on the contrary, the situation rapidly deteriorated even further. The following section therefore analyses the factors that prevented a more efficient EU involvement, taking into account the parties in conflict themselves, EU policy-making and US policies in the region. The contribution concludes with a look at the prospects of a resumption of a genuine peace process in the Middle East. EU Support for the Middle East Peace Process after Oslo Following the historic breakthrough between Israel and the PLO in the Oslo negotiations and the mutual recognition in September 1993, the EU was eager to become engaged in support of the ensuing peace process. During the ‘interim period’,4 the EU concentrated its efforts on supporting the creation of an environment that would facilitate lasting peace in the region rather than contributing directly to a political solution between the conflicting parties. EU support was complementary and parallel to the political negotiations at the official level. Financial and Economic Support Since the inception of the Oslo Process, the financial and economic dimension has been at the core of the European approach. Indeed, in the period 1993–2000, the EU and its member states were the largest donors of financial and technical aid to the Palestinian Authority (PA) as well as to the MEPP in general.5 Financial aid and economic cooperation have been based on the understanding that: (1) The Palestinian population could be persuaded to support the peace process and radical positions could be neutralized through economic development which would lead to a tangible improvement in living conditions for every Palestinian; (2) The creation of a democratic and viable Palestinian state is in the interests of Israel; (3) Enmity between the two populations could be reduced and reconciliation induced through joint projects at the level of civil society [Commission of the European Union, 1995, 1997, 2002b]. Aim 1: Improving the living conditions of the Palestinian population. The bulk of European aid after Oslo went into projects aimed at improving infrastructure in the Palestinian territories, such as road networks, water

180 THE MAIN OBSTACLE TO EURO-MEDITERRANEAN PARTNERSHIP

wells and pipelines, waste and sewage disposal, Gaza’s harbour and airport, hospitals and schools, all in order to pave the way for economic development. At the same time, efforts were made to help the Palestinians establish a regulatory framework allowing for a free market economy. However, in the crucial early years of the Oslo Process, the Palestinians did not come to enjoy anything like the individual economic peace dividend that had been envisaged and which would have helped convince them of the benefits of the peace process. On the contrary, in 1992–96, per capita income in the Palestinian territories fell by about 35 per cent and unemployment rose to approximately 30 per cent. The economic setback came as a result of a combination of factors, the most important of which was the closure policy introduced in 1993—that is, the introduction by Israel of a system under which Palestinians were not allowed to enter (or work in) Israel and Jerusalem or move between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip without a special Israeli permit [UNSCO, 1997; Roy, 1998].6 In 1997, a period of comparatively few closures started and by the end of the year macro-economic indicators started to signal an improvement in the economic situation. But throughout the interim period, the one-sided economic dependency of the Palestinian territories on Israel (above all for employment opportunities and trade) was not reduced, and no basis for sustainable development was laid. In the absence of the rule of law under the PA and given the uncertainty of the development of the peace process, private investment did not increase, and public investment went mainly into unproductive sectors, such as employment in the public sector. Per capita income did not even reach the pre-Oslo level [UNSCO, 2001]. Aim 2: Building self-reliant self-governing structures. After Oslo, large amounts of European aid went into the establishment of Palestinian selfgoverning institutions with the aim of laying the basis for a viable Palestinian state. EU direct budget support was crucial for the setting up and survival of government institutions in the difficult formative years of the PA.7 From 1998, the PA was able to almost completely fund its budget through taxes, duties and the money transferred by the Israeli authorities on the basis of the Paris Economic Protocol, rather than relying on donor aid [Commission of the European Union, 2002b]. Thus, the EU was able to concentrate its efforts on development assistance rather than on direct budget support. Aim 3: Reducing enmity, furthering reconciliation. The EU has supported projects for regional and bilateral Israeli-Palestinian cooperation aimed at linking up civil societies and cross-border co-operation, mainly in the fields of water, the economy, trade and the environment. But joint projects have not led to rapprochement or reconciliation between the populations. The projects may have influenced the attitudes and behaviour of individual participants, but they have not had any tangible effect on the broader populations or on the leadership of either side. This was because


only a very small and specific spectrum of people (usually already convinced of the need for co-operation and dialogue) participated in these activities. But the underlying problem was that genuine rapprochement and equitable co-operation were simply not possible so long as the asymmetrical, hierarchical relationship between occupier and occupied continued to dominate people’s daily lives [Hassasian and Kaufman, 1999; Andoni, 2003]. It was further complicated by the fact that political relations between the two entities deteriorated drastically after the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. Too little, too late. Overall, the EU’s financial and economic support has had the intended results only to a very limited degree: the PA has become independent from donor financing for its operating budget, but continued to rely heavily on financial transfers from Israel. Reconciliation between Israelis and Palestinians has not taken place. Very little progress has been made with regard to economic development, or rather, the little economic progress that has been made has come too late to change people’s attitudes in favour of the peace process and it has been more than reversed by the recent economic breakdown and destruction of infrastructure. Even in the years before the outbreak of the second Intifada, it had become evident that sustainable economic development was not possible in the face of Israeli closure policies and the fragmentation of the Palestinian territories through the ongoing process of settlement and by-pass road construction. Economic losses due to closures have by far outweighed the international donors’ disbursements to the Palestinian areas [UNSCO, 2002:23–4]. Thus, the main obstacle to the effective use of European aid has been the continuing occupation [Gresh and Avran, 1998]. The European approach has not taken this sufficiently into account: it has been one of post-conflict peace-building—as if there were no continuing conflict, occupation or mobility restrictions hampering economic development, reconciliation and institution-building.8 Palestinian State- and Institution-Building EU support for Palestinian state- and institution-building has been based on the conviction that ‘the creation of a democratic, viable and peaceful sovereign Palestinian State…would be the best guarantee for Israel’s security and Israel’s acceptance as an equal partner in the region’, as stated in the Berlin Declaration of March 1999 [European Union, 1999]. In order to build Palestinian government institutions, financial aid, material assistance and training were provided to key ministries and agencies: the Legislative Council, the police, the statistics bureau, the Palestinian Broadcasting Corporation, the local authorities, etc. Furthermore, the EU wanted to give the PA democratic legitimacy and therefore gave massive financial and technical support for the first


Palestinian elections in 1996, deployed election monitors and organized the overall co-ordination of the election monitoring [Asseburg and Perthes, 1996; Baumgarten, 1996]. However, we can see everything but excellent results from Palestinian state- and institution-building. Even though the PA has set up a comprehensive system of governance (including ministries, a legislative council, a judiciary and a security apparatus), legitimate, viable, efficient and democratic institutions have not been created in the Palestinian territories. On the contrary, the Palestinian political system is characterized by the prevalence of informal institutional arrangements and clientelism, by authoritarian government practices and human rights abuses, and by an inflated and inefficient public sector responsible for the misuse of funds. It is also characterized by deficiencies in respect of the influence of the elected representatives, transparency, accountability, checks and balances, the rule of law and an effective monopoly of power [Asseburg, 2002a]. Over the past few years, the PA has lost a great deal of legitimacy in the eyes of its own population owing to the perceived self-enrichment and corruption of its leaders and the lack of opportunities for popular participation. Underlying the Palestinian discontent with its leadership is the PA’s failure to secure independence and to progress economically [JMCC, 2000:5–10]. The EU has to assume a special responsibility for the lack of the rule of law and democratic decision-making processes in the Palestinian territories as well as the human rights abuses of the PA, as it has been directly involved in the process of building these governing institutions through technical and financial support as well as budget support to the PA. Due to its primary interest in short-term stability and the continuity of the Oslo Process, the EU has supported Arafat as the strong and reliable Palestinian partner in the peace process, in spite of his authoritarian tendencies, his human rights abuses and the lack of popular participation —so long as he efficiently crushed the opposition to the peace process. The EU has also focused a significant amount of its aid on the technical and material aspects of institution-building, rather than on its content. It has insisted again and again on the financial transparency of the PA and accountability with regard to the use of EU aid, but it has done so much less vigorously with regard to a democratic decision-making process, local elections or the rule of law [Asseburg and Perthes, 1998; Council on Foreign Relations, 1999]. The Search for Regional Stabilization The EU has emphasized the search for regional stabilization and multilateral solutions. With these objectives, it has been active in two main frameworks: the EMP—in this section looked at as an instrument of


regional stabilization —and the multilateral working groups of the Madrid process, particularly the Regional Economic Development Working Group (REDWG). For the purposes of the present collection, the following analysis focuses on the EMP.9 The EMP was not conceptualized as a framework for solving the Middle East conflict and it does not provide specific instruments or fora for doing so. Rather, it was designed to complement the MEPP—the latter encompassing the bilateral peace processes between Israel and its neighbours (above all, the Israeli-Palestinian Oslo Process) as well as the multilateral framework of the Madrid process embracing Israel and its neighbours as well as the wider region. The EMP was, inter alia, supposed to provide a framework in which, among others, the parties to the Middle East conflict would be able to build trust and institutionalize their relations in the political, economic and societal spheres as well as in the security field. It was also supposed to serve the aim of peace-building and long-term regional stabilization by laying the foundations for economic development and regional integration.10 The Barcelona Process has brought about some achievements with regard to the MEPP such as the PA’s participation as an equal Mediterranean partner and thus a quasi-national actor—a fact of high symbolic value with regard to Palestinian self-determination—and the Arab states’ acceptance of Israel as a partner in the process, thus allowing Israel to break out of its regional isolation. For some years, the EMP indeed served as a forum for dialogue between the parties to the Middle East conflict, even at times when otherwise violent conflict prevailed between some of them. However, since both the November 2000 Marseilles meeting and the April 2002 Valencia meeting of foreign ministers of the EMP were boycotted by the Syrian and Lebanese representatives, in protest at the Israeli reaction to the Intifada, this has been the case only for a very limited period. Syrian and Lebanese representatives have resumed their participation in the foreign minister meetings only in spring 2003 following initial progress in IsraeliPalestinian relations. The EMP was not able to serve as an instrument of crisis prevention either: it has neither helped to prevent the degeneration of the Oslo Process and the outbreak of violence nor helped to reduce the violent confrontations. Confidence has not been built among the Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs) in the absence of a political solution to the ArabIsraeli conflict and in the face of a major imbalance in military and economic power between Israel and its neighbours.11 Thus, the project of a ‘Mediterranean Charter for Peace and Stability’ has seen no tangible progress for years and could not be adopted in 2000 as envisaged by the French Presidency of the EU. Even though activities and meetings at different levels (from senior officials to civil society contacts) of the Partnership are ongoing, the region has not moved closer to anything


resembling a ‘zone of peace, stability and shared prosperity’ as envisaged in the Barcelona Declaration. Very few confidence-and security-building measures (in the realm of civil defence co-operation) as well as partnershipbuilding measures (the establishment of the Euro-Mediterranean Studies Commission or Euromesco, a network of foreign policy research institutes of EMP member states) have been implemented [Perthes, 2002a: 93–8]. Thus, instead of the Barcelona Process leading to an environment conducive to peace and positively influencing the atmosphere and the negotiations between Israel and the Arab states, the stalemate in the Oslo and the Madrid processes since the Netanyahu years has had negative effects on the EMP and has blocked any tangible progress, particularly in the field of the ‘political and security partnership’. EU Engagement since the Outbreak of the Second Intifada The EU has realized that its approach, focusing on economic development, regional peace-building and Palestinian state- and institution-building, could not be effective in the absence of a genuine peace process. The EU and its member states therefore have shifted their financial and material support to pursue new aims: alleviating the humanitarian situation of the Palestinian people, preventing the collapse of the PA and reforming its institutions. The EU and its member states have become active also in crisis intervention and management and have assumed an ever more active role in the search for an internationally supported solution to the conflict. Financial and Material Support Aim 1: Alleviating the humanitarian situation. The second Intifada and the Israeli response to it have represented an additional grave setback to Palestinian economic development and living standards, and they will also have a serious impact on future economic development [UN General Assembly, Economic and Social Council, 2002; UNSCO, 2002]. The EU has reacted to the crisis by shifting its support from development activities to humanitarian aid and emergency programmes for employment, reconstruction and the rehabilitation of victims of violence. We should note that this emergency support presents a dilemma: by extending humanitarian and emergency aid to the Palestinians, the EU takes over the humanitarian duties of the occupying power—immense costs that Israel strives to avoid—and thus helps to prolong the state of reoccupation, closures and curfews, rather than working actively against it. There is no question that the EU has to extend emergency and humanitarian aid to the Palestinian population for humanitarian reasons. However, both parties must understand that this can only be a temporary measure linked explicitly to the expectation that both parties will make serious efforts to


resume the political process and to curb any violence directed against the other side. The EU should finance neither ongoing occupation nor violent resistance. Aim 2: Preventing the collapse of the PA. Since the beginning of 2001, Israel retained its financial transfers to the PA in response to the Intifada— a total sum of approximately $650–$700 million by September 2002, according to UN figures [UNSCO, 2002]. As a result of the retention of funds, in combination with the breakdown of the Palestinian economy and the consequential loss of income from taxes and duties, the PA quickly came to the brink of financial collapse. The EU helped to prevent the PA’s collapse by providing 10 million per month from mid-2001 to the end of 2002 in order to enable the PA to cover its operating costs and to ensure the payment of wages to civil servants (among them teachers and the security forces) and the delivery of basic services [Patten, 2002]. Budget support for the PA presents another dilemma: it is essential to avoid the complete breakdown of self-governing structures in the Palestinian territories, not least to prevent the spread of chaos and anarchy and a further upsurge in violent attacks on Israeli targets. However, the PA should not be allowed to perceive EU budgetary support as implicit European consent for its way of dealing with violence. Aim 3: Reforming the PA. In the course of the Intifada and the Israeli reoccupation of Palestinian cities, the legitimacy of the PA has declined further. The invasions and the destruction of the security services’ and the administration’s infrastructure have also led to a further erosion of the monopoly of power and of the PA’s capacity to govern, to secure ‘law and order’ and to provide basic services [Asseburg, 2002b]. The process of reform of Palestinian governing institutions, initiated after the Spring 2002 ‘Operation Defensive Shield’, has tried to remedy some of the shortcomings of Palestinian institution-building. With the help of the EU and other international actors, a detailed reform plan has been worked out, a new cabinet has been formed, a basic law and the law of the judiciary have finally been adopted by Arafat, and reforms are under way in the financial and security field aimed at unifying PA accounts and security forces and at clarifying competencies.12 Reform of the political system is indeed necessary and has been a Palestinian demand for years.13 Elections to the Palestinian presidency and parliament were initially scheduled for January 2003 and local elections planned for March. With violence continuing, the postponement of talks about a ‘road map’ and the holding of elections in Israel in January 2003, it became impossible to hold the Palestinian elections on time, especially since candidates were unable to conduct election campaigns and voters could not go and cast their ballots in safety. But even if the Israeli military had withdrawn from all Palestinian cities on time and Israel had been prepared to guarantee freedom of movement, it is highly unlikely that elections would have led at this time to


a new, more pragmatic and reform-oriented Palestinian leadership [Asseburg, 2002c]. Thus, under strong American pressure, the office of prime minister was created and Mahmud Abbas, known as a moderate and pragmatic figure, was chosen to form and head a new government. The EU has offered technical and financial assistance for elections. Indeed, one of the focal points of the EU’s diplomatic activities should be to ensure the necessary conditions for meaningful elections: a withdrawal of Israeli troops to pre-Intifada lines; resumption of a serious peace process; the participation of East Jerusalem Palestinians in the elections; and international monitoring of the elections. Crisis Intervention and Crisis Management In the course of the violent confrontations of the Intifada, the EU has become increasingly engaged in efforts at crisis intervention and management.14 Even though these activities have not attracted much attention from the international media, there have been quite a number of cases in which the EU was successful in reducing tensions—such as the local cease-fires that European observers were able to secure in the first year of the Intifada between Gilo and Beit Jalla, and the mediation between President Arafat and prime minister Sharon by German foreign minister Joschka Fischer after the Dolphinarium bombing of June 2001, which prevented massive Israeli retaliation and an immediate further escalation. European mediators also facilitated a solution to the crises at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem and at the presidential headquarters in Ramallah (the Muqataa) in spring 2002. In the absence of political will on the part of the conflicting parties, EU activities in this field have had only a limited and temporary impact and have not led to a sustained diminution of conflict or anything close to a durable cease-fire. The situation on the ground deteriorated even more during 2002 and the EU seemed completely powerless in situations such as the siege and almost complete destruction of the Muqataa compound in September 2002. This lack of influence has become particularly obvious in relation to Israeli retaliatory actions such as the military incursions into Nablus, Tulkarem and Gaza City in November 2002 following the attack on the Metzer kibbutz, for which the Israeli government assumed to have the backing of the US administration. Declaratory Politics The EU can take pride in a very consistent declaratory policy on the matter of Palestinian self-determination and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The European position has developed from Venice (1980) via Cardiff (1998) to Berlin (1999) in a linear fashion, becoming ever more outspoken and well-


expressed while being firmly based on international law. Lately, the EU has also developed a clearer outlook on the question of what a final settlement should look like and which principles it should be based on. According to the EU declarations of Seville (June 2002), a final solution should be based on the 1967 borders—rather than just referring to the controversial Security Council resolution 242. Particularly when compared to US policies on the conflict, the EU declarations have been much more concise, progressive and unified, different US government bodies and administrations having expressed different positions on the status of East Jerusalem, the Palestinian territories and so on.15 However, to date declaratory European positions have not been sufficiently backed up with either concrete or symbolic politics. This is the case with regard to the illegality of occupation, the annexation of East Jerusalem and the building of settlements. More often than not, European politicians have bowed to Israeli pressures not to meet their Palestinian counterparts in east Jerusalem. Goods produced in the settlements— financially almost irrelevant, but politically delicate—are still largely imported to European countries under the preferential tariff conditions granted to Israel in the association agreement even though they do not fall under the agreement’s rules of origin.16 This lack of backup for declarations is also obvious when looking at the European rejection and declaratory condemnation of the excessive use of force by Israel in countering the Intifada. The logical steps have not been taken, however. A European decision to freeze arms sales to Israel has not been made. Condemning Israel’s policy of reoccupation, human rights violations and ‘targeted assassinations’ while contributing to its military arsenal is simply not a credible policy. So far, the EU has not made it official policy to make use of or threaten to make use of the association agreements’ possibilities for (temporary or partial) suspension vis-à-vis either Israel or the Palestinians. The association agreements state (in Art.2) that relations between the EU and the MPCs ought to be based on the principles of democracy and respect for human rights, which should also govern the domestic and foreign policies of the partners. In April 2002, in reaction to the ‘Defensive Shield’ Israeli military operation, the European Parliament decided to ask the Commission and the Council inter alia to suspend the association agreement with Israel, to deploy observers to the region and to suspend arms sales to Israel and the Palestinians.17 The suspension of association agreements should serve only as a last resort and other instruments, such as the above-mentioned freeze on arms sales and the strict application of rules of origin, should be applied first.


Dialogue and Diplomacy From the beginning of the Oslo Process, the EU was able to offer additional fora for dialogue and contacts between the parties, often away from the attention of the international community but nevertheless of added value. Most importantly, the EU and its member states have extensively supported track-two diplomacy, that is, non-official, non-public negotiations, often between academics, the results of which have already fed into official negotiations and have been (or will be in the future) essential to the creative search for solutions on issues such as Jerusalem. The EU has also helped to find solutions to day-to-day problems between the parties to the conflict. Its special envoy, for example, has established an ‘EU-Israeli Joint Dialogue’ in which European and Israeli practitioners and experts regularly discussed ways and means to overcome (Israeli) obstacles to economic development in the Palestinian territories [Peters, 2000:161]. In general, as the EU developed new instruments in the sphere of its Common Foreign and Security Policy, it was also able to achieve a stronger presence in the peace process through the activities (in 1996–2003) of its special envoy, Miguel Angel Moratinos, and the high representative Javier Solana. However, this has not helped the EU to be accepted by both parties to the conflict as a respected third party. In particular, it has not helped to overcome the deep mistrust of Israeli policy-makers as well as the Israeli public with regard to European motivations and perceived one-sided proArab stances. European representatives have been repeatedly rebuffed by the Israeli government and at times have been denied access to the Palestinian president.18 The Muqataa compound was shelled in March 2002 even while the EU special envoy was visiting President Arafat. In the course of 2002, the Europeans (under the chairmanship of the British intelligence agent and security advisor to Solana, Alistair Crooke) engaged Palestinian groups in a dialogue that aimed at their agreeing to renounce violent attacks against Israeli civilians. Clearly it is the right approach not only to condemn terrorism in countless declarations and to compel the Palestinian leadership to renounce violence, but also to engage the rank and file of Fatah (as well as the Islamists) in an inclusive process aimed at a change of mind and strategy among leadership personnel and activists in such an essential matter. The renunciation of violence against civilians by leading representatives of Palestinian society might help bring reconsideration of the widespread view among Israelis that the current conflict is an existential one and that there is no Palestinian partner with whom to talk and to clinch a peace deal.19 Particularly since the beginning of the current Intifada, even though with considerable delay, the EU has assumed a more political role and has involved itself directly in the search for a way out of the current crisis and for a political solution to the conflict. In publishing a paper on the 2001


Taba negotiations detailing the points of agreement as well as the open questions, the EU special envoy attempted to shift public debate in Israel and Palestine back to the issues to be resolved in the final status talks. Since the beginning of 2002, discussions on a way out of the crisis have taken place in EU circles, taking as their point of departure the ‘Peres-Abu Ala Understanding’ and building on the European assessment that the Israeli/ American ‘security-first’ approach would not work, since there needs to be a political vision in order for any cease-fire to be effective and lasting. Based on the German foreign minister’s ‘seven-point plan’, a three-phase ‘road map’ was finally agreed upon at the EU’s meeting of foreign ministers in Helsingör in August 2002 and had a great influence on the Quartet statement the following month in which the international community (led by the US, EU, UN and Russia) proposed a plan envisioning a Palestinian state and a peace settlement by 2005. Indeed, this Quartet statement (as well as the more detailed road map produced by the Quartet in October 2002) can be seen as an important success for European diplomacy:20 the EU has kept the US working on finding a common approach, even though there have clearly been different priorities in parts of the US administration with Operation ‘Enduring Freedom’ continuing and preparations being made for war against Iraq. The EU was also successful in pushing its comprehensive approach for a way out of the impasse—that is, the need for a realistic political perspective, a timetable and immediate gains for both parties in order for a cease-fire to be effective —and making it a joint Quartet initiative. Moreover, the EU has succeeded in convincing the US administration of the importance of protecting Arafat from physical elimination and preventing the complete destruction of the PA. Factors Hampering Effective European Political Involvement By the end of 2002, the EU’s diplomatic and declaratory achievements had not translated into progress on the ground. On the contrary, the situation in the region deteriorated even further since the outbreak of violent confrontations in September 2000 and after the first Quartet declaration. This failure can be traced back to several clusters of factors, among them (and above all): (1) The conduct of the conflicting parties themselves and their relations with the EU; (2) Difficulties in EU policy-making; and (3) US policies in the region.


The Conflicting Parties It is above all the stance and actions of the conflicting parties that have thwarted efforts at crisis management, de-escalation and finding a solution to the conflict. Neither of them has made any credible effort to reduce the violence and engage in a political process. Indeed, one of the major challenges for the EU has been the question of how to deal, on the one hand, with an Israeli government that has shown no interest in resuming final status negotiations based on the ‘land for peace’ principle and, on the other hand, with a Palestinian leadership that has lost much of its legitimacy and capacity to guarantee a cease-fire and implement a possible agreement. Policies aimed at furthering both populations’ readiness to support a future peace agreement have not been pursued sufficiently so far. The EU will need to think more creatively about incentives to further the parties’ readiness to engage in the process and it will also need to commit itself to being closely involved. This includes offering concrete help to solve the most difficult final status issues that lie ahead, such as the refugee question, as well as offering political and military guarantees for a final solution and the steps leading to it. It should also involve the continuing support of track-two diplomacy to find creative solutions for the details of the complex issues to be dealt with in a final settlement. Until now, the Europeans have not really taken into account the deep mistrust that exists in Israeli society regarding a stronger European political involvement in the region. Public diplomacy is needed to influence Israeli public opinion and explain the European stance. That does not mean acquiescing in the Sharon government’s interpretation of what the EU should or should not do, but on the contrary explaining European approaches, including the conviction that the establishment of an independent, viable and democratic Palestinian state is in the self-interest of Israel, and to underpin them with consistent and credible policies. EU Policy-Making What has prevented the EU from adopting such credible policies and backing up its declarations with concrete steps is the fact that, to date, the ‘Common Foreign and Security Policy’ (CFSP) has not in fact been a common, but only a co-ordinated policy. Europeans often disagree when it comes to the implementation of policies towards the region as there are different national approaches, interests and priorities among EU member states. The contrasting voting records of EU member states in international bodies such as the UN General Assembly and the UN Human Rights Commission have repeatedly undermined a strong common stance.


At the European summit at Feira in June 2000, a ‘Common Strategy of the European Union on the Mediterranean Region’ was adopted.21 However, actions that pertain to the MEPP have been excluded from the Common Strategy’s majority voting rules until a comprehensive peace can be reached in the Middle East. So long as there is no peaceful solution, it is most important that Europeans speak with a single voice and effectively back up their positions and declarations on human rights, democratic governance, the use of violence, occupation, annexation and settlement policies with concrete political action and symbolic steps, if they want the EU to be perceived as a credible actor and to exert influence. US Policies Last but not least, Europe has not been able to act independently of, or contrary to, US policies in the region. American administrations have been eager to emphasize that the EU must not play an independent political role in the Middle East. And, in general, European policy-makers have accepted the EU’s complementary role—and rightly so, as EU policies would not be effective if they contradicted the policies of the superpower and main powerbroker in the region [Asseburg, 2001:279–81]. With the creation of the Quartet, which took shape at the Sharm aI-Sheikh summit in October 2000 and has been meeting since April 2002, a co-ordinating mechanism for policies towards the region has been established that allows for European influence, but preserves US leadership. Ahead of the war on Iraq, however, the US administration had not fully committed itself to pushing for the implementation of a road map leading to comprehensive peace in the region. The implementation of the Quartet plans of September/October 2002 will require massive pressure on both parties to the conflict to commit themselves to initial steps as well as to its final objective—for otherwise the plan will quickly meet the same fate as the Mitchell recommendations and the Tenet agreement. It is true that the Bush administration has realized that the conflicting parties would not solve the conflict on their own and that it has slowly become more active in this regard after an initial absence as a mediating force in the Middle East. But in the wake of 11 September 2001, the Bush administration has shifted its priorities in the Middle East, deciding above all that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict should not endanger the anti-terror coalition or make the war on Iraq more difficult. Before the Iraq war, the US administration did thus not show any interest in getting deeply involved in a process aimed at a solution to the Middle East conflict, but rather tried to stabilize the situation in such a way as to ensure that it would not conflict with its own war plans. As a consequence, it apparently promised prime minister Sharon in November 2002 that it would not insist on an Israeli response to the Quartet plan until after a new Israeli government


could be formed (that is, until February 2003), or on the transfer of money owed to the PA under the Paris Protocol. Nor would it condemn Israeli retaliatory actions, reoccupations, liquidations and so on, so long as Israel adhered to some red lines: no physical harm to, or deportation of, Arafat; no massive ‘transfer’ of Palestinians; no massive escalation of violence; and restraint with regard to the neighbouring states and in response to a possible Iraqi attack [Eldar, 2002; Benn, 2002]. Future Perspectives With the presentation of the Quartet’s road map to the parties of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in April 2003 and the commitment of US President George W.Bush, the Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon and the Palestinian Prime Minister Mahmud Abbas to its implementation the peace process has entered into a new phase. Some first significant steps have been taken towards ending the cycle of violence, such as the declaration of a three-month cease-fire by Palestinian militant groups starting from July 2003 and a redeployment of Israeli troops in Northern Gaza and Bethlehem. The successful relaunch of the peace process will depend on several factors, above all the goodwill of the conflicting parties to wholeheartedly engage in such a process. They cannot be compelled to negotiate in good faith, but it has been argued above that Europeans can and should influence the readiness of the two peoples and the leadership on both sides to engage in such a process. That will not be an easy task. The January 2003 elections strengthened the right wing in the Israeli Knesset. The new Sharon government, which embraces the radical right and the settler parties, is even less likely to engage in serious peace negotiations based on the ‘land for peace’ principle. On the Palestinian side, there is a readiness to re-engage in final status negotiations. The main problem is that the longer the violent conflict continues, the less the Palestinian leadership is capable of securing law and order in the territories, controlling armed groups and implementing a durable cease-fire. Mahmud Abbas has committed himself to do so, but until now he has neither the means of power nor the necessary public support to disarm the militant groups. The successful relaunch of the peace process will also depend very much on the ‘rules’ of the process which should be based on the lessons learned from Oslo. Most importantly, that implies that: (1) the process must have a clear, agreed objective, including a two-state solution based on the 1967 borders, with the details to be negotiated between the parties; and (2) it provides a concrete, prearranged and binding timetable to reach this outcome. The process would have to (3) yield immediate gains for both parties, serving as desperately needed confidence-building measures. The process would need to (4) provide for a binding mechanism of conflict


resolution between the two parties by an impartial third party and (5) international guarantees with regard to the implementation of the steps towards a final agreement and for the final agreement itself. The road map published by the Quartet in spring 2003 ignores most of these lessons. Above all, it lacks a clear objective, binding mechanisms, a third-party role and concrete guarantees. But it is still a step in the right direction. For the Quartet initiative to become the basis of a successful peace process, the international community will need to commit itself to guarantee politically, financially and militarily the interim steps as well as a final settlement, including the deployment of a military/observer force. The Europeans cannot do this alone. It will thus be one of the challenges for the EU to insist on sustained American involvement in the road map process. The EU has a strong interest in overcoming the impasse in the Middle East as the continuation of the conflict goes directly against European interests: it implies a continuation of ineffective spending by the Union, it endangers stability in the region and aggravates threats emanating from the region, and it puts European projects such as the EMP in danger. NOTES The author wishes to thank Richard Gillespie, Annette Jünemann, Werner Ruf, Stephan Stetter, Isabelle Werenfels, Hans-Joachim Rabe and Martin Beck for valuable comments and suggestions. Besides benefiting from the WOCMES conference, valuable input was provided at a workshop on ‘The Role of the EU in the Current Crisis in the Middle East’, organized by the Institute for Security Studies of the European Union in Paris in September 2002, where policy recommendations based on this paper were discussed; these will be published as a contribution to a Chaillot Paper. 1. This is not to suggest that the Arab-Israeli conflict is the only conflict or problem area preventing a genuine partnership. It is, however, this conflict that actually threatens the continuation of the Partnership in its entirety. For other areas of conflict in the Partnership see, for example, Perthes [2002a]. 2. This contribution does not analyse the various structural, procedural and psychological factors that have led to the breakdown of the Oslo Process, on which see Asseburg [2003]; Rabbani [2001]; Slater [2001]. 3. These dimensions are, of course, in reality overlapping and less clear-cut than they are presented here for analytical reasons. This approach will present more clearly the areas in which there has been progress and the areas in which deficiencies have surfaced. 4. The interim period refers to the period of limited Palestinian self-governance, originally supposed to last from May 1994 to May 1999. In this period, a Palestinian Authority was established, Israeli troops withdrew from Palestinian population centres and a final solution should have been negotiated between the parties in conflict.


5. The EU and its member states together have been the biggest donor of financial and technical assistance to the PA, providing over 50 per cent of the international community’s finance for the West Bank and Gaza Strip between 1994 and 1998. Total EU assistance to the Palestinian territories accounted for 1.42 billion in 1993–2001, according to figures provided by the Commission of the European Union [Commission of the European Union, 2002a]. 6. Under the Interim Agreement of September 1995, the West Bank was divided into areas with different statuses and competencies for Israel and the PA (A, B and C areas). This allowed for the introduction of so-called ‘internal closures’ isolating A, B and C areas from each other and prohibiting movement between them, often in response to a suicide bombing or to prevent unrest on Jewish holidays. Internal closure and the cancelling of (almost) all entry permits to Israel have become a permanent feature since the beginning of the second Intifada. 7. For support for Palestinian institution building, see below. 8. For an analysis of additional factors hampering the effective use of aid, such as the internal mechanisms of EU policies and aid disbursements, see the contribution of Stephan Stetter in this volume, as well as Asseburg [2001]. 9. The multilateral approach of the working groups was established in Madrid. Problems that exist across borders need to be solved in multilateral frameworks taking into account the interests of all concerned parties and building on expertise in the different sectors. For the multilateral track of the Madrid process, see Peters [1996]. 10. The focus in this section is on the regional integration and confidence-building objectives of the EMP aimed at complementing the MEPP, rather than a general assessment of the progress and shortcomings of the EMP. For a recent evaluation of the EMP, see Jünemann [2002]; Perthes [2002b]; Schmid [2002]. Support for economic development, democracy and institutionbuilding given by the EU in the framework of the EMP are dealt with in the sections entitled ‘Financial and Economic Support’ and ‘Palestinian State and Institution Building’. 11. For an overview of the current military power balance in the region, see ‘Defending the Budget’, Middle East Economic Digest 46/44, 1 Nov. 2002, pp.4–5. 12. For regular updates on the state of reform see also the website of the Palestinian Jerusalem Media and Communication Center (www.jmcc.org). 13. It has also become a focus of the first phase of the so-called ‘road map’—a process to which Israelis and Palestinians have finally committed themselves under American pressure at a summit meeting in Aqaba in early June 2003. 14. Even beforehand, we have witnessed important cases where crisis prevention by the European Union was successful. For example, this was the case with the pressure on the PA not to unilaterally proclaim a Palestinian state at the end of the initial interim period in May 1999, which helped to prevent a violent Israeli reaction and annexation of territories as threatened by the then prime minister Netanyahu. It was also the case with the withdrawal of Israeli troops from South Lebanon in May 2000, which had been prepared


15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

diplomatically behind the scenes by European diplomats with Syria and Lebanon and thus could proceed smoothly [Sterzing and Böhme, 2002]. For example, US defence secretary Donald Rumsfeld in autumn 2002 referred to the ‘so-called occupied territories’, calling into question a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. President Bush signed a law authorizing the US budget on foreign affairs that contained a symbolic commitment to recognizing Jerusalem as the Israeli capital (it stipulates that in official US documents Jerusalem should be referred to as the Israeli capital); it also urged the president to immediately start transferring the US embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. At the same time, Bush stated that US policy on Jerusalem had not changed and that he regarded the provisions on Jerusalem as an impermissible interference by Congress with his constitutional right to lead in US foreign policy. The meeting of the EU-Israel Association Council in Luxembourg on 21 October 2002 could not resolve the conflict over settlement products and decided to continue to hold technical talks on the issue in early 2003, rather than transferring it to an arbitration council. See Middle East International, 25 Oct. 2002, pp.17–18. See ‘EU/Naher Osten: Parlament verlangt sofortige Aussetzung des Assoziierungsabkommens EU-Israel und ein Waffenembargo’, Europe, 11 April 2002, p.4. In April 2002, a delegation formed by the Spanish EU presidency and the high representative was ordered by prime minister Sharon not to meet with President Arafat. See ‘EU/Naher Osten. Ariel Sharon verhindert die Begegnung der hochrangigen europäischen Delegation mit Yassir Arafat’, Europe, 5 April 2002, p.4. At times, the EU special envoy Moratinos was not allowed to meet Arafat either. In autumn 2002, more than 70 per cent of Jewish Israelis thought Palestinians unready to accept the right to exist of the State of Israel [Hermann, 2002]. It must be noted, however, that the Quartet statement represents a setback when compared to the Helsingör Plan. It fails to mention the 1967 borders as a point of reference and makes the entry into each of the following phases conditional on the achievement of certain benchmarks. That makes the process vulnerable and easy for its opponents to derail. The September Quartet statement also represents a setback when compared to the Fischer plan, particularly so because it omits to mention explicitly the commitment of the international community to provide a ‘concrete, sustainable and effective security component’. See ‘ldea Paper for Middle East Peace’, by German foreign minister Joschka Fischer, submitted at the EU foreign minister’s meeting at Luxemburg, 15 April 2002, in Perthes [2002b]:173–5. ‘Common strategies’ are one of the instruments of the CFSP introduced by the Treaty of Amsterdam. EU member states can unanimously define a common foreign policy strategy toward a country or region, on the basis of which operational decisions on implementation can then be made by qualified majority voting.


REFERENCES Andoni, G. (2003): ‘The People-to-People Programmes. Peacemaking or Normalisation?’ Lisbon: Euromesco Briefs 1. Asseburg, M. (2001): ‘Der Nahost-Friedensprozess und der Beitrag der EU—Bilanz und Perspektiven’, Die Friedens-Warte 76/2–3, pp.257–88. Asseburg, M. (2002a): Blockierte Selbstbestimmung: Palästinensische Staats- und Nationenbildung während der Interimsperiode, Baden-Baden: Nomos. Asseburg, M. (2002b): ‘Ein Neuanfang im Friedensprozess? Innere Reformen und internationales Engagement’, Berlin: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (SWP aktuell 17). Asseburg, M. (2002c): ‘Arafat vor dem Aus—und dann?’ Berlin: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (SWP aktuell 37). Asseburg, M. (2003): ‘Die palästinensischen Selbstverwaltungsgebiete’, in M.A.Ferdowsi and V.Matthies (eds.), Den Frieden gewinnen. Zur Konsolidierung von Friedensprozessen in Nachkriegsgesellschaften, Bonn: Dietz. Asseburg, M. and V.Perthes (eds.) (1996): ‘Wahlen in Palästina: Hintergründe und Bedeutung’, Ebenhausen: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (SWP Informationspapier 2951). Asseburg, M. and V.Perthes (eds.) (1998): Surviving the Stalemate: Approaches to Strengthening the Palestinian Entity, Baden-Baden: Nomos. Baumgarten, H. (1996): ‘Die palästinensischen Wahlen 1996’, Orient 37/4, pp.599–618. Benn, A. (2002): ‘U.S. Agrees to Put “Road Map” on Hold Until after Elections’, Haaretz, English internet edition, 13 Nov. Commission of the European Union (1995): ‘Communication from the Commission to Council and Parliament on Future European Union Economic Assistance to the West Bank and the Gaza Strip’, COM (95) 505. Commission of the European Union (1997): ‘Community Assistance to the West Bank and Gaza Strip’, unpublished overview. Commission of the European Union (2002a): ‘The EU and the Middle East Peace Process: The Union’s Position and Role’, http://europa.eu.int/comm/ external_relations/mepp/. Commission of the European Union (2002b): ‘European Commission and EIB Assistance to the Palestinians and the Peace Process since Oslo’, unpublished information of the Commission for the EU member states. Council on Foreign Relations (1999): Strengthening Palestinian Public Institutions: Independent Task Force Report, Washington, DC: Council on Foreign Relations. Eldar, A. (2002): ‘Sounds of Slumber from Washington’, Haaretz, English internet edition, 11 Nov. 2002. European Union (1999): ‘Berlin European Council 24–25 March 1999: Presidency Counclusions’, http://www.euromed.net/eu/mepp/berlin_en.htm. Gresh, A. and I.Avran (1998): ‘Bilan et perspectives de l’aide européenne’, in Asseburg and Perthes (eds.) [1998]. Hassassian, M. and E.Kaufman (1999): ‘Israeli-Palestinian Peace-Building: Lessons Learnt’, in European Center for Conflict Prevention, People Building Peace:35 Inspiring Stories from Around the World, Utrecht: European Centre for Conflict Prevention.


Hermann, T. (2002): ‘Public Opinion in Israel: Findings by the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research’, presented on 11 Nov. 2002 in Berlin at a symposium of the Heinrich-Böll-Stiftung. JMCC (Jerusalem Media and Communication Center) (2000): Popular Trust and Distrust in Palestinian Politicians and Factions: Analysis of Palestinian Public Opinion on Politics, Jerusalem: JMCC. Jünemann, A. (2002): ‘Six Years After: Reinvigorating the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership’, in C.-P.Hanelt et al. (eds.), Europe’s Emerging Foreign Policy and the Middle Eastern Challenge, München/Gütersloh: Center for Applied Policy Research/Bertelsmann Foundation. Patten, C. (2002): ‘Statement to the Foreign Affairs Committee of the European Parliament on EU Budgetary Assistance to the Palestinian Authority’, Brussels, http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/news/patten/. Perthes, V. (2002a): ‘“Barcelona” and the German Role in the Mediterranean Partnership’, in Perthes (ed.) [2002a]. Perthes, V. (ed.) (2002b): Germany and the Middle East: Interests and Options, Berlin: Heinrich Böll Foundation/Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik. Peters, J. (1996): Pathways to Peace: The Multilateral Arab-Israeli Peace Talks, London: Brookings. Peters, J. (2000): ‘Europe and the Arab-Israeli Peace Process: The Declaration of the European Council of Berlin and beyond’, in S.Behrendt and C.Hanelt (eds.), Bound to Cooperate: Europe and the Middle East, Gütersloh: Bertelsmann Foundation. Rabbani, M. (2001): ‘Rocks and Rockets. Oslo’s Inevitable Conclusion’, Journal of Palestine Studies 30/3, pp.68–81. Roy, S. (1998): ‘The Palestinian Economy after Oslo’, Current History 97/615, pp.19–25. Schmid, D. (2002): ‘Optimiser le processus de Barcelone’, Paris: Institute for Security Studies of the European Union, Occasional Paper 36. Slater, J. (2001): ‘What Went Wrong? The Collapse of the Israeli-Palestinian Peace Process’, Political Science Quarterly 116/2, pp.171–99. Sterzing, C. and J.Böhme (2002): ‘German and European Contributions to the Israeli Palestinian Peace Process’, in Perthes (ed.) [2002b]. UN General Assembly, Economic and Social Council (2002): ‘Economic and Social Repercussions of the Israeli Occupation on the Living Conditions of the Palestinian People in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, including Jerusalem, and of the Arab Population in the Occupied Syrian Golan’, A/57/63-E/2002/21. UNSCO (United Nations Special Coordinator for the Occupied Territories) (1997): ‘Quarterly Reports. Spring 1997 Report’, Gaza, www.arts.mcgill.ca. UNSCO (2001): ‘The Impact on the Palestinian Economy of Confrontations, Mobility Restrictions and Border Closures, 1 October 2000–31 January 2001’. UNSCO (2002): ‘The Impact of Closure and Other Mobility Restrictions on Palestinian Productive Activities. 1 January 2002–30 June 2002’.

11 Arab Regional Integration as a Prerequisite for a Successful Euro-Mediterranean Partnership BÉCHIR CHOUROU

Equity and freedom are not possible between two unequal partners [Gandhi, 1942]. Following the adoption of the Barcelona Declaration in 1995, a process was launched to turn the Mediterranean into an area of peace, security and shared prosperity. Since 1995 the foreign ministers of the 27 partners of the Barcelona Process have held five conferences, the most recent one having taken place in April 2002 in Valencia and known as ‘Barcelona V’. At the end of that conference, a document was issued containing the Presidency Conclusions and the Valencia Action Plan. According to this document, the participants agreed ‘that the incomplete implementation of the main objectives of the mentioned [Barcelona] Declaration, despite the progress obtained since 1995, demands a global reassessment and a new commitment from all participants to build on the reactivation of the Process since Barcelona IV (Marseilles 2000)’ [Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, 2002:8]. The same document specifies that ‘the Valencia Action Plan includes a number of initiatives in a short and medium term perspective to give a political impetus to the Process and to make it advance substantially in the pursuit of the objectives of the Barcelona Declaration’ [Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, 2002:2]. Despite the attempt to use positive language, these two statements along with the rest of the document imply that the Barcelona Process is at a standstill and that efforts undertaken in the last two years to reinvigorate it have been fruitless. A large number of documents are available containing proposals aimed at giving new impetus to the Barcelona Process: presidency conclusions issued by Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) ministerial meetings and by the EU Council, studies prepared or commissioned by the EU Commission, research and academic institutions, think-tanks and individual scholars, and so on. No attempt will be made here to establish a comprehensive list of the problems identified and the proposed solutions relating to the stalled EMP. Instead, this contribution will focus on what it


will argue to be a major weakness of the EMP, namely, the lack of balance between its participants. All of the partnership agreements in existence involve two signatories: the EU acting as a single entity on behalf of its member states, on the one hand, and an individual MPC acting on its own behalf, on the other. In 2002 Algeria and Lebanon signed their respective agreements (leaving Syria as the only MPC not to have done so), which gives us a set of 11 agreements mutually binding for the EU and each one of its partners but not applicable to horizontal relations between MPCs. This hub-and-spokes design has been adopted largely as a result of the little disposition—if not outright refusal—of MPCs to act jointly when dealing with the EU, and despite the latter’s suggestion that some MPCs form joint teams to negotiate multilateral agreements. The shortcomings of the design were predictable, and they are becoming evident in countries where association agreements have been in effect for some time. As a result, the EU has been calling with greater insistence for more extensive South-South co-operation and has welcomed, in this framework, the recent decision taken by Jordan, Egypt, Tunisia and Morocco to form a free trade area (the so-called Agadir Initiative). However, it will be argued that any approach that is limited to free trade and that involves countries that do not constitute a viable economic space or region cannot bring major improvement on existing agreements. What is needed is a single treaty that binds the EU and current Mediterranean partners (and to which other countries in the region should be urged to accede) and that takes into account the following principles: • ‘The economic and financial partnership, based on the creation of a Euro-Mediterranean free-trade area, cannot be envisaged separately from other partnerships that need to be established in the political, security, social, human and cultural areas’ [Zaafrane and Mahjoub, 1999: para. 7]. • Greater welfare and prosperity cannot be achieved through free trade alone but require an integrated approach capable of inducing sustainable development, and a deliberate policy that incorporates region-wide plans for the creation and management of common projects and activities. Supranational institutions with legislative, executive, judicial and regulatory powers need to be set up to co-ordinate activities, adopt and enforce decisions, settle disputes and so on; their areas of competence and degree of authority should be predefined, extensive and irreversible. • Integration has become an urgent necessity. If MPCs want to avoid marginalization and to resolve the many social, economic and environmental problems that confront them, they must pool their resources and energies. The EMP, inasmuch as it can be considered a form of integration, cannot be a substitute for the integration of the

200 ARAB REGIONAL INTEGRATION

southern and eastern countries of the Mediterranean. At best, it may facilitate it, but it can just as easily delay it—perhaps indefinitely. To date, the EMP has been largely benign, except for two countries (Morocco and Tunisia) that joined it prematurely. Efforts to reinvigorate it should in fact be devoted to restructure it into a partnership of 1+1, that is, the EU and a Middle East and North Africa (MENA) union, instead of 1+12 (or, more accurately, 1+9, since three of the current MPCs—Cyprus, Malta and, perhaps, Turkey—will become EU members). To argue the need for revising the EMP and integrating the MPCs, in what follows I will present a brief overview of the theory of integration and its implications for the EMP. This will be followed by a rapid survey of the Arab economies, highlighting the areas where unresolved problems may become sources of instability. Using Tunisia as a case study, it will be argued that the association agreements in their present form either fail to deal adequately with those problems, or ignore them altogether. The third and last part of the study will suggest that the Arab world must take part in the ongoing globalization process if it wants to protect its interests and promote its welfare, but a partnership with the EU may not be the most efficient way of doing so—unless the EMP’s structure, underlying principles and instruments are suitably revised. In particular, Arab countries need to go into the partnership as a single actor if they want to protect themselves against various threats and risks, and to reduce the gap that separates them from their northern neighbours. Arab integration is not a novel idea and various attempts have been made in the last half century to achieve it. Major obstacles that have prevented, and may continue to prevent, that integration from taking place will be reviewed and it will be argued that some of them are serious but not insurmountable, while others are artificial but may prove to be intractable. The conclusion will suggest measures that may be envisioned to bring about a reformed EMP and to transform the Mediterranean into an area of peace, stability and shared prosperity. Theoretical Assessment of the EMP The concept of regional integration incorporates various forms of crossnational co-operation, ranging from eliminating tariffs and other trade barriers between nations (free trade) to merging national economies into a single market. Whatever its scope or depth, integration is considered a means of increasing the welfare of those who take part in it. Consequently, the study of integration has been intimately related to that of economic growth and development.


At the risk of oversimplification, it may be said that the theory of integration (and of free trade, of which it is an integral part) is based on two main hypotheses: first, free trade promotes specialization among nations on the basis of endowments and comparative advantage, hence a more efficient use of resources and greater welfare for all. Second, many or most economic activities can be efficient only if they can produce on a large scale. Consequently, markets that are too small should integrate in order to promote efficiency, and hence a better use of resources and greater welfare. Since its creation in 1958 what was then called the European Economic Community (EEC) has become an object of intense scrutiny to test the validity of these hypotheses as well as others related to the conditions required for starting the process of integration, ensuring its success and maintaining it on course, as well as to study the existence, measurement and allocation of the benefits of integration. Almost immediately after its creation, the EEC became an object of emulation in other parts of the world. From the early 1960s onwards, various free trade areas and common markets sprung up, especially in Latin America and Africa. However, none of them was as ‘successful’ as the EEC. This failure is attributed to several factors. Among other things it is widely held that integration can be successful (that is, lead to greater welfare) only if certain prerequisites are met, if it goes beyond trade to include co-operation in the economic, social and financial areas, and if strong and efficient supranational institutions are established. It is important to point out that early on, all the integration projects involved countries that were geographically contiguous, shared several cultural features and had achieved similar levels of material well-being. This was true in the case of the EEC and the European Free Trade Association (EFTA), and it was also true in the case of developing countries in Africa and Latin America. But because, in the latter cases, integration as it was framed failed to yield positive results, a new form of integration started to be put into practice, involving rich industrialized countries and poorer, less developed ones. The North American Free Trade Association (NAFTA) and the Euro-Mediterranean free trade area are examples of such projects. This form of integration is only beginning to be studied from a theoretical point of view and it will be some years before it can be subjected to empirical analysis. Some scholars have already gone beyond the question of integration among unequal partners to examine the entire development model on which liberalization measures (including free trade) such as those advocated by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) are based. For example, A.Sid Ahmed argues with respect to Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia that


the IMF/WB [World Bank] model of adjustment and growth implemented successively in each of the three countries [of the Maghreb] seeks mostly to re-establish major financial and monetary equilibriums, and does so at the expense of growth. Worse still, its implementation postpones further and further the re-emergence of the conditions required by growth and development [Sid Ahmed, 1995: 232; author’s translation from French]. He therefore urges that the IMF model as well as ‘new panaceas’ such as free trade within the Maghreb and between the Maghreb and the EU should be abandoned in favour of other models more likely to bring about sustainable development. The approach favoured by Sid Ahmed consists of an industrialization programme carried out with the active intervention of government in strategic sectors. In summary, a large number of failed experiments with integration among developing countries indicate that free trade had hardly any impact on growth or development, and that integration among unequally developed partners results, for the weaker members, in more losses than gains and in greater dependency of the periphery on the core. This last conclusion is corroborated by economic theory (and empirical evidence) that shows that the neo-classical model of development based on the free play of market forces would maintain or even aggravate current inequalities between rich and poor countries, and would postpone the start of sustainable development indefinitely. Let us now see how these ideas translate concretely when applied to the Arab countries in general (including those that have signed partnership agreements with the EU) and to Tunisia in particular, the first country to sign such an agreement. Effects of the EMP on Current and Potential MPCs When the Barcelona Process was launched in 1995, one of its main objectives was to set up a comprehensive partnership between the EU and the 12 MPCs, with a view to putting the latter on a path towards sustainable development. The work programme adopted at the time identified a number of areas (or baskets) where co-operation was to take place, and a variety of policy instruments to be used for reaching the defined objectives. On the basis of the premise that free trade is conducive to improved welfare, it was agreed that a Euro-Mediterranean free trade area should be created by 2010. At present, all but one of the MPCs have signed agreements with the EU towards that end. In most cases, the association agreements have been in effect for too short a period to allow their submission to a meaningful empirical assessment. Nevertheless, it should be possible to use economic theory and


preliminary trends observed in countries where the agreements have been in effect for a few years to draw some conclusions relating to the actual or potential effects of the EMP on the economies of MPCs. To avoid a lengthy review of the situation of each one of the eight Arab MPCs, and to take advantage of the recently published Arab Human Development Report (AHDR), the following discussion will focus on critical areas where remedial action in the short-to-medium run is necessary, and on the likely role that the EMP may play in those areas. In the foreword to the AHDR, the director-general of the Arab Fund for Economic and Social Development states: Arab countries have undoubtedly seen remarkable economic and social achievements during the past three decades. But with the advent of the twenty-first century, they have started to face deep and complex economic and social problems that negatively affect their present and future. These problems comprise, inter alia, high illiteracy rates, the deterioration of education, the slow-down of scientific research and technological development, poor production bases and competitive capacity, rampant poverty and mounting unemployment rates [UNDP, 2002:V]. The report examines in detail the evolution of a large number of social and economic indicators during 1978–99. Looking at the gross domestic product (GDP) of all 22 Arab countries, the report indicates that after growing at an average annual rate of 8.6 percent in 1975–80, it declined sharply to 0.7 per cent in 1982–90 and did not go above 3.3 per cent in 1990–98. On average, GDP shows a steady decline for the period as a whole. When related to population, GDP performed even worse. Thus, GDP per capita grew by only 5.6 per cent during 1975–80, then had a negative rate of •2.3 per cent in 1980–90 and only increased slightly to 0.7 per cent in 1990–97. For 1975–99, the evolution of GDP per capita was not uniform throughout the region: it declined by 1.8 per cent in the Gulf area and by 0.1 per cent in low-income countries, but increased by 0.9 per cent in middle-income ones [UNDP, 2002:85, 88]. Looking at capital accumulation measured as the portion of GDP spent on gross fixed capital formation (GFCF), the AHDR indicates that there is a strong effort towards acquiring the tools needed for production. However, that effort has been declining since 1980. Thus, the ratio of GFCF to GDP went from 27.3 per cent in 1975–80 to 25.1 per cent in 1980–90 and to 21.9 per cent in 1990–98 [UNDP, 2002:86]. Furthermore, investment tended to be inefficient as it did not improve productivity, even if one takes into account the fact that a major part was used to finance projects that are not directly productive such as roads, airports, schools


and other types of infrastructure. Finally, the report notes that foreign participation in GFCF is practically non-existent. The productivity of labour (measured as GDP per worker) in the Arab world is not better than that of capital. Citing figures provided by the World Bank, the AHDR indicates that ‘total factor productivity [that is, labour and capital productivity] in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region showed a steady decline (•0.2 per cent a year) from 1960 to 1990, compared to rapid acceleration in other parts of the world’ [UNDP, 2002:87]. Looking specifically at labour productivity, and comparing its evolution during the two periods of 1980–90 and 1990–97, the report indicates that it increased at an average annual rate of 15 per cent in China, eight per cent in Korea and six per cent in India, whereas its growth rate in a sample of nine Arab countries was limited to four per cent [UNDP, 2002:87]. Another major problem that confronts all Arab countries, including those with oil income, is double-digit unemployment. Several factors combine to make actual and disguised unemployment a structural feature of Arab economies. Sluggish or declining economic growth; population growth rates that continue to be high or that do not decline at a sufficient pace; neglect of the agricultural sector and of labour-intensive activities; emphasis on capital-intensive industries; persistently high levels of illiteracy, particularly among women; a lack of skilled workers and of training facilities: these are but a few of the factors that explain the high unemployment rates observed in the Arab world. According to the AHDR, even under the optimistic assumption that the labour force would increase by only two to three per cent per annum, 50 million jobs would have to be created by 2010 and, if unemployment rates are not brought down from their current levels, the number of unemployed will double to reach 25 million. To what extent will the EMP help its Arab participants deal with these problems? A tentative answer to this question may be deduced from an examination of Tunisia where an association agreement with the EU has been in effect for six years. Generally speaking, the agreement is less favourable to Tunisia than the co-operation instruments that existed before 1995, mostly as a result of the introduction of the rule of reciprocity. Previously, Tunisian manufactured products enjoyed free and unlimited access to European markets, while the Tunisian market was protected by tariff barriers. Under the new agreement, and in conformity with the reciprocity rule, Tunisia accepted a schedule for progressively dismantling its tariff walls and abandoning non-tariff barriers. Imports and exports of agricultural goods, on the other hand, continue to be subjected to various restrictions. Tariff dismantlement has led, as expected, to an increase in both trade and the trade deficit. As the productive sectors sought to modernize and


increase production, they imported more machines, raw materials and intermediary goods. Lower prices for these inputs should have improved the competitiveness of businesses, but quite often the gains made were offset by negative factors such as low labour productivity, low quality of finished products and obsolete management techniques. Consequently, even though exports have been increasing, their growth rate may not be sustainable, and has not kept pace with the growth rate of imports. On the other hand, consumption of imported finished goods also increased as customs duties came down, and is expected to accelerate as more and more goods are affected by trade liberalization. Therefore, most projections indicate that the growth rate of imports will continue to outpace that of exports, thereby increasing the country’s trade deficit for the foreseeable future. Tariff dismantling has also led to an important drop in government revenues.1 For 1996—one year after the EMP agreement went into effect — the loss was put at $75 million (or about 20 per cent of total state revenue) and was projected to reach $800 million by the twelfth year of the agreement, which gives a cumulative loss of $4,000 million for the whole transition period. Aware that other MPCs were likely to have similar revenue losses and other financial difficulties, the EU adopted measures designed to alleviate those problems: grants to be awarded under the MEDA programme and loans to be extended by the European Investment Bank (EIB). After the IMF-inspired structural adjustment programme (SAP) was put in place, grants to Tunisia increased substantially from $29 million in 1987 to $195 million in 1989, but they started to decrease thereafter to reach $115 million in 1994. At present, most donors consider that Tunisia has reached a sufficient level of development to look for alternative sources of financing. Overall, according to the Annual Report of the MEDA programme for 2000, ‘the 12 Mediterranean partner countries have received commitment appropriations for the period 1995–1999 of more than 4.4 billion in the form of grants, of which 3.4 billion under the MEDA I programme. The European Investment Bank has for its part granted loans of 4.8 billion for this period’ [Commission of the European Communities, 2001:18]. For 2000–6 a total of 12.75 billion will be available for Euro-Mediterranean Partnership activities, of which 5,350 million will be in the form of grants from the Community budget to be included in MEDA II. For Tunisia, 428.4 million have been committed under the MEDA programme between 1995 and 1999, but that still covered only about 30 per cent of the annual budget deficit (estimated, for example, at ECU830 million for 1996 and 1997 [EIU, 1996:9]). More generally, most MPCs estimate that the financial assistance extended to them is far below their needs.


TABLE 1 FDI INFLOWS INTO THE MEDITERRANEAN AND ELSEWHERE

Note: Figures are in US$ millions. Source: Commission of the European Communities [2001:45].

Aside from official development assistance, it was hoped that foreign direct investment (FDI) undertaken by the private sector would be the main engine of growth in MPCs. However, and as the AHDR points out, The share of the Arab world in total net flow of FDI barely comes to 1 per cent over the period [1975–98], with a steady reduction by subperiod: 2.6 per cent for 1975–1980, 1.3 per cent for 1980–1990 and 0.7 per cent for 1990–1998. The Arab world remains comparatively cut off from financial globalization although some countries such as Egypt (which receives more than half the net flow of FDI to the Arab world), Morocco and Tunisia have recently seen their share of FDI grow while remaining generally weak [UNDP, 2002:87]. Recent figures of FDI inflows into the region and other parts of the world are shown in Table 1. FDI Inflows into the Mediterranean and Elsewhere MPCs offer various incentives to foreign investors, among other things fiscal advantages, modern industrial parks, off-shore zones and free access to European markets. However, these do not seem to offset other factors that foreign investors may consider worrisome: insufficient security, political and social instability, eroding comparative advantages, insufficient infrastructure, inefficient bureaucracy and widespread corruption.


To summarize, one may quote an editorial recently published in an Arab newspaper. Describing the current Arab economies as ‘tottering into crisis’ and ‘slipping into real trouble’, the journalist asks: ‘What has happened to the overall Arab economy? Why has it failed to keep up with the rest of the world?’ His answer: Apart from raw materials, there is not much in the Arab world [that the rest of the] world wants. We managed to miss the Industrial Revolution, the information technology boom and we are now completely sidelined and marginalized in anything related to science, medicine and communication… [Arab men and women] are shackled by archaic laws, ridiculous firewalls and obstructive bureaucrats. It is time for all of these to be scrapped and those who object to be ignored. If they are not, the situation will get worse and the gap that separates us from the rest of the world will get wider [Al-Maeena, 2002]. Strengthening the EMP through Southern Integration A similar diagnosis is made by institutions and scholars from the North, for example in a ‘Strategy Paper’ published by the European Commission in December 2001 [Commission of the European Communities, 2001]. Having identified the main shortcomings of the Barcelona Process, the study suggests a number of priorities that the EMP should focus on, and concrete measures for achieving them. A detailed evaluation of the objectives and their means of implementation is outside the scope of the present contribution. However, a noteworthy new development is the emphasis that is increasingly put on one aspect of the EMP that has so far been neglected, namely, regional South-South integration. Academic studies and official documents stress the need for regional integration as a basis or prerequisite for the EMP. To cite one example, the Strategy Paper states: ‘Setting up a EuroMediterranean FTA will actually be dependent on agreements being concluded between the [Southern] partners themselves [Commission of the European Communities, 2001:12]. The idea of achieving economic integration among Arab countries is not new. In the case of the Maghreb, for example, the author of the lead article of the 1970 edition of the Annuaire de l’Afrique du Nord, the well-known French annual publication devoted to North Africa, wrote: The States of the Maghreb feel that they belong to the same family. But they know that they are economically fragile and realise that in an era of superpowers and European groupings, the only way they can play a role requires that they achieve Maghrebi unity before


TABLE 2 PARTNERSHIP PRIORITIES AND IMPLEMENTATION MEASURES

Source: Commission of the European Communities [2001:54].

joining other larger groupings. They further understand that the policy of maintaining exclusive relations with the West in general and France in particular is artificial, and they are showing signs of developing a new solidarity with the Arab world, Africa and, more broadly, with the Afro-Asian movement [Benyoussef, 1970:90; author’s translation and emphasis]. As far as it could be ascertained, this is the first time it is suggested that North African integration should precede any attempts by the Maghreb countries to join singly or collectively what was then called the European Economic Community, and that there are alternatives to an association with Europe. However, the statement may have been overly optimistic about the wisdom or farsightedness of North African leaders at that time, since there were no concrete measures, decisions or indications that Maghrebi integration was indeed seriously contemplated, or that it would be brought about as a first step towards Arab and/or African integration. Efforts to achieve North African integration go back to the preindependence period, and have continued since. The latest attempt goes back to 1989 when a treaty instituting the Arab Maghreb Union (Union du Maghreb Arabe—UMA) was signed by Algeria, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco and Tunisia. Similar efforts have been made in the framework of the League of Arab States. As the Arab Human Development Report points out, ‘many formulas have been proposed and tried for Arab cooperation in


the economic, political, social and cultural spheres. Likewise, various levels of cooperation have been proposed, including the bilateral, the multilateral on the basis of geographic proximity, the official, the national and the regional’ [UNDP, 2002:122]. However, the report notes, ‘the end result has been far from commensurate with the massive institutional superstructure that has been erected and the expectations and aspirations that have surrounded the cooperation effort over five decades of field work’ [UNDP, 2002:126]. According to the report’s authors, the failure to achieve comprehensive, coherent, integrated Arab development and the consequent reliance on limited domestic markets or integration with foreign markets have adversely affected Arab economic and social development. National efforts to promote social and economic transformation, including institution-building and raising literacy rates, have done little to ease the situation [UNDP, 2002:127]. Obstacles to Maghrebi and Arab Integration Scores of speeches have been made to decry this situation, and shelves of books and articles have been written to elucidate the failure of a process whose success seemed predestined. By and large, and on the basis of the classical theory of integration, it is commonly argued that the absence of integration is due to the lack of complementarities between the national economies of the region. This point cannot be refuted. Looking at the Maghreb, the five North African countries have little to sell to each other, as can be seen from the insignificant share that intra-regional trade represents in any one country’s external trade. In fact, not only are the economies not complementary, they are often in direct competition with each other. Furthermore, all five countries are confronted—to varying degrees—with other structural problems: high rates of demographic growth, illiteracy and unemployment; a low level of qualification of the labour force; inadequate telecommunication and transport infrastructure; outdated financial, monetary and fiscal legislation and institutions; and lack of a business culture characterized by a spirit of entrepreneurship, risk taking, initiative and innovation. More recently, the EMP has been added to the list of obstacles that are said to stand in the way of Maghrebi integration. According to the proponents of this argument, and as indicated above, MPCs have incurred or can expect to incur any or all of the following drawbacks: higher budget deficits due to loss of income from import taxes; higher trade deficits due to increased imports of cheaper European products without commensurate increases in exports to EU markets; higher unemployment as a result of the closing of inefficient firms incapable of competing with foreign businesses;


and an invasion by powerful and sophisticated suppliers of technologybased goods and services. More germane to the point at hand, the EMP is seen as leading to, or consolidating, a tendency to orient production to the European markets and decreasing or preventing efforts to create activities oriented to southern markets. These arguments are valid and supported by readily observed facts and easily obtainable figures. However, it should not be concluded that these obstacles are insurmountable and that hence Maghrebi integration is inherently impossible. In fact, it could be argued that these obstacles, serious as they may be, present at least one positive feature: unlike other factors such as climate or geography or endowment in natural resources, all of the obstacles mentioned are man-made and are therefore amenable to human intervention. Although speculation about history is hazardous, one could still affirm that integration could have been achieved at any time in the last half century had there been the political will to achieve it. Therefore, over and beyond economic or social conditions, the main and most formidable obstacle to Maghrebi integration was and remains the unwillingness of rulers to achieve it. I have argued elsewhere [Chourou, 2002] that the leaders of independence movements in the core countries of the Maghreb (Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia) had sufficient legitimacy and popular support to take their countries in any direction once independence was achieved. Therefore, they could have opted for the creation of a North African confederation or federation or even a unitary state, or at least could have championed such an idea and submitted it to their respective electorates. But they failed to do so—while continuing to pay lip-service to the concept of Maghreb unity. The most likely explanation for their attitude is that each leader realized, or knew all along, that his role and standing in a large political entity could only be inferior to those he could have on his local and secure turf. Attachment to national sovereignty is often presented as a major obstacle to integration. In the case of the Maghreb, however, there is no evidence to prove (or disprove) the validity of this hypothesis. There, as in the rest of the Arab world, rulers have considered themselves the embodiment of nations. As the above-mentioned Strategy Paper puts it, Following a period of instability after independence, over the past twenty years most partners have been strongly centralist, authoritarian and conservative in character, with the army traditionally playing a preponderant role in political life whilst the Parliaments tend to play a secondary role. The Head of State generally concentrates power in his person to a very high degree [Commission of the European Communities, 2001:9].


Therefore, if anything is seen as detrimental to the nation, it is most likely because it is detrimental to its ruling regime. This applies to power, economic interests and security. Again, this may be pure speculation, but if sovereignty is considered as an attribute of the people, then the only way to determine if it is an obstacle to integration is to ask the people whether or not they are willing to give up all or part of their sovereignty for the sake of integration. In effect, then, one has to distinguish between the lack of political will among the ruling classes to achieve integration, and popular opposition to such a project. At present, the former is officially denied but clearly evident; the latter is unconfirmed and probably non-existent. If the issue of integration were to be submitted to a democratic debate in North Africa, the focus should be on two main questions: is integration desirable and, if so, what measures should be taken to bring it about? The answer to the first question is relatively simple: integration is not only desirable, it is necessary end even inescapable. At a time when blocs are being formed and consolidated in all regions of the globe, and when national boundaries are becoming increasingly irrelevant in most aspects of international relations, no nation can hope to keep its sovereignty intact or succeed in living in autarky. The process of globalization is well known and sufficiently advanced not to require a detailed discussion here. More to the point, societies have to find the best ways to adjust to this process so as to reduce its potential negative effects and take advantage of the opportunities it may offer. Most countries of the southern and eastern Mediterranean, including some UMA members, have opted for an association with the EU in the framework of the EMP, and others are expected to follow suit. Is this an appropriate choice, and does it preclude or pre-empt the need for other alternatives such as Maghrebi or MENA integration? The UMA as an Initial Step towards a Restructured EMP The Barcelona Process has proved to be sufficiently disappointing to elicit efforts to ‘reinvigorate’ or ‘re-launch’ it, to use the terms currently in vogue. Similarly, the transformation of the Mediterranean basin into an area of ‘shared prosperity’ through the creation of a free trade area is not progressing at a satisfactory pace. For the southern partners, the EMP has failed to improve welfare and has exacerbated long-standing social, financial and economic problems. For the EU, the MPCs have failed to make appropriate efforts to take full advantage of the opportunities offered by the EMP and, in particular, have not heeded the oft-repeated advice that North—South co-operation can yield its full benefits only if it is accompanied and complemented by South—South co-operation. While the need for South—South co-operation is evident, its scope and depth have to be further specified. So far, the limited amount of horizontal co-operation in the Mediterranean does not go beyond the progressive


dismantling of trade barriers with the aim of their total elimination by 2010, to coincide with the completion of the Euromed free trade area. However, such moves may not be sufficient. The lowering or even elimination of tariffs cannot by itself yield significant results, since there is little intra-regional trade to begin with (less than five per cent of any MPC’s external trade in the best of cases). What is needed in the southern Mediterranean is a form of integration that goes beyond the creation of free trade areas or even customs unions. It has always been clear that no MPC has a sufficient size to support efficient production in any major industrial or service sector. In fact, some economists argue that even subregions such as the Maghreb with its more than 80 million inhabitants, or even all MPCs parties to the Barcelona Declaration (except Turkey) with their 160 million inhabitants, do not have the critical mass required by many economic activities. Nevertheless, any fusion of markets would be better than the current segmentation, and MPCs should implement this form of integration. But they should simultaneously undertake collective action to achieve the following objectives: • An integrated market for internal trade—Current efforts to re-launch the EMP are limited to the achievement of this objective. • Industrial integration—There is at present a large deficit in industrial production. Most MPCs have to import production goods, components and semi-finished inputs from outside the region. Local production of some of these goods may become economically justifiable if sufficient markets were available. • Agricultural integration—The southern Mediterranean shows a large deficit in food production, and imports growing amounts of basic products such as cereals (wheat, barley, corn, rice, etc.), cooking oils and sugar, as well as other food products such as meat and milk. Those imports are bound to increase as population grows and incomes improve. This food deficit creates a number of problems. It is a major source of trade deficit. It absorbs resources that could be used elsewhere. It prevents governments from devaluing national currencies to favour exports because devaluation would make food imports more expensive on local markets. Natural factors such as climate and lack of arable land make food self-sufficiency unlikely in the Arab region, but a substantial decrease of dependency is possible. In fact, even the EU considers food security as a major objective that the EMP should pursue.2 Some Arab countries lack the financial and/or the human resources to exploit their agricultural potential or to restructure and rehabilitate the agricultural sector, while others have those resources but do not have the appropriate natural environment. This is an area where South—South integration and North—South co-operation would be beneficial to all concerned.3


• Integrated infrastructure—Land, sea and air transport is inadequate and costly, when it exists at all. A dynamic economic activity without efficient means of communication is not possible. But building motorways and railroads and setting up other intra-regional links is a costly enterprise that requires co-operation and co-ordination. • Financial, monetary and fiscal co-operation—Region-wide economic activities cannot be undertaken without the free movement of all factors of production, including capital. They also require the use of convertible currencies, stable exchange rates or, best of all, the use of a single currency. Furthermore, fiscal policies must be uniform so as not to create distortions in the allocation of resources. • Harmonization of laws and regulations—If a market is to function efficiently, it must be regulated by a coherent set of laws and regulations, adopted and implemented through transparent means. • Integrated policies towards third parties—The integrated region must have common policies in areas such as foreign trade (for example, adoption of common external tariffs), foreign direct investment and negotiations with international organizations and external partners such as the World Trade Organization and the EU. This outline of the measures that need to be implemented in the southern Mediterranean is necessarily brief. Suffice it to say that their ultimate objective is the transformation of a fragmented region into a coherent economic space where growth and sustainable development are possible.4 One particular implication of the above measures is that the current structure of the EMP needs to be changed. At present, all Euromed agreements are between the EU acting as a unit and individual MPCs. This model has shown its limits. New agreements involving larger entities are needed, such as those that the EU has with the Gulf Co-operation Council (GCC) and with countries of the Africa, Caribbean and Pacific (ACP) regions. In the Mediterranean, such entities may be the UMA, or the group of Arab-Mediterranean countries, or even the League of Arab States. Until recently, the EU has done little to encourage this form of cooperation, as can be seen from the small portion of MEDA funds allocated to regional projects and from the EU’s stance concerning the application of the rules of origin contained in the trade agreements signed with MPCs. However, this attitude appears to be changing and the need for SouthSouth co-operation is brought up more frequently and with greater insistence—if not greater conviction. Of greater concern is the attitude of MPCs themselves. Obviously, adoption of the integration measures outlined above represents a formidable task under any circumstances, and most of all in the Arab world in its current state. The obstacles, profound or artificial, are numerous and daunting, but their severity has to be compared with the


consequences that current policies are bound to have. All concerned parties have to determine whether the Mediterranean can afford a continued deterioration of social and economic conditions in the South. Algeria has been the country where that deterioration has been most visible and most dramatic, but the apparent stability in other parts of the southern Mediterranean should not lull anyone into complacency. Warning signals are increasing in number and intensity, and problems are reaching a point where they will be amenable neither to a cosmetic treatment nor to repression. Europe is currently concentrating its attention on extra-Mediterranean issues and sees no immediate reasons for investing further time and effort in areas beyond its southern borders. The message emanating from Brussels appears to be that the EU has done its part and that the ball is now in the MPCs’ camp. The message is well taken but may ultimately prove to be self-defeating. It is true that change in the South cannot be imposed by outside actors, but it is equally true that it cannot come about when opposing forces are—directly or indirectly, purposefully or unwittingly— supported by external actors, including the EU and its individual member states. Conclusion The formation of regional blocs is becoming a major manifestation of globalization and it is also a direct consequence of that phenomenon. To avoid marginalization, southern Mediterranean countries have concluded partnership agreements with the EU. These agreements seek mainly to establish a Mediterranean free trade area. However, it has been demonstrated that free trade alone, especially when restricted to selective goods, is detrimental to the weak participants and does not lead to sustainable welfare improvements. Concurrently or at different periods, Arab-Mediterranean countries have also tried to create free trade areas of different configurations, bilateral or multilateral (such as the UMA, the Arab Common Market and the Agadir initiative). In so doing, they too relied on the free play of market forces to achieve integration. Despite the fact that this approach has yielded no positive results, they continue to resist efforts to adopt a proactive policy designed to create large, fully integrated economic units similar to those existing in Europe, Latin America and Asia. The Maghreb could be one such unit, although it may fall short of optimal efficiency. But however it is designed, regional integration should ensure that it neither excludes Europe entirely nor is totally subservient to it. The EMP needs to be revised in such a way that existing gaps between its two prospective members—the North which is already integrated, and the


South which will have at least set in motion its integration process— would at least be reduced. From a practical point of view, the proposed restructuring may adopt one of two approaches. The first one consists in pursuing ongoing negotiations with the Arab Gulf Co-operation Council (AGCC) and opening negotiations with the UMA and/or the Agadir group, while ensuring that a close co-ordination between the groups exists. This approach presents at least two advantages. On the one hand, the institutional framework exists already and could be used without wasting time building such a framework. On the other hand, all current Arab MPCs except Lebanon are members of one of the existing groups. However, there is the danger that any agreements that the EU may achieve with these groups may prove to be difficult to extend to other Arab countries that may wish to accede to them at a later point. The second approach would consist in starting negotiations with the Arab League. As practical and convenient as it may be, this approach may not be politically realistic, especially in view of the notorious ineffectiveness of that institution. Nevertheless, this would be the optimal method for setting up a new and genuine EMP. From a European perspective, both approaches may be perceived as failing to deal with the place of Israel in the proposed schemes. Clearly, Israel is a signatory of the Barcelona Declaration, and it was hoped that its participation in the Euromed process would pave the way towards a final settlement of its conflict with its Arab neighbours. However, its behaviour since then has been the major reason for bringing the Barcelona Process to a complete halt. Therefore, the remaining 26 parties to the Barcelona Declaration must decide whether they want to accept this deadlock, or to move forward. The Arab countries have already shown their disposition to establish normal economic and political relations with Israel, provided that Palestinian rights are respected. When that happens, Israel may choose to join the partnership that would be in existence—the same option being, incidentally, available to other countries in the region such as Iran. Of course, some may consider this new EMP idea as utopian. Others may dismiss as alarmist the suggested consequences of maintaining the status quo or adopting limited reforms. One can only hope that no one will have the uncertain satisfaction of confounding either or both of these groups. NOTES 1. The Tunisian fiscal system is described in Rejeb and Talbi [1995]. All fiscal statistics presented here are taken from this study.


2. For example, the European Parliament has declared that it is ‘convinced that one of the conditions for any sustainable development is to seek and achieve food security and insists on the fact that the necessary opening of markets must be balanced by measures designed to insure the perennial existence of the region’s agricultural and fishing sectors’ [European Parliament, 2002:8]. 3. A more detailed discussion of this question may be found in Chourou [2003]. 4. All of the points mentioned are widely discussed in the literature dealing with integration in general and with the Euromed in particular. A succinct discussion of the utility of some of the measures and their positive impact on development in some Latin American countries may be found in Sid Ahmed [1998]. Most of these measures are also discussed in the above-mentioned Strategy Paper for the EMP [Commission of the European Communities, 2001].

REFERENCES Al-Maeena, K. (2002): ‘Lack of Planning Stifles Arab Growth’, Arab News, 25 Oct, reproduced http://www.menafn.com. Benyoussef, A. (1970): ‘Recherche des fondements économiques de l’intégration au Maghreb’, Annuaire de l’Afrique du Nord 9, Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Chourou, B. (2002): ‘The Challenge of Democracy in North Africa’, in R.Gillespie and R. Youngs (eds.), The European Union and the Promotion of Democracy: The Case of North Africa, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Chourou, B. (2003): ‘Implications of Declining Food Supplies: Food Security vs. Market Economy’, in H.G.Brauch et al. (eds.), Security and Environment in the Mediterranean: Conceptualising Security and Environmental Conflict, Hexagon Series No.1; Collection STRADE-MED No.16, Berlin, Heidelberg, New York: Springer-Verlag. Commission of the European Communities (2001): Euro-Mediterranean Partnership —Regional Strategy Paper 2002–2006 & Regional Indicative Programme 2002– 2004, Brussels, 6 Dec., http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/euromed/rsp/ rsp02_06.pdf. EIU (1996): ‘Tunisia—Country Risk Service’, 3rd Quarter, London: Economist Intelligence Unit. Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (2002): Presidency Conclusions and Valencia Action Plan. Document Euromed 2/02. Brussels, DS/efz DGE V, 24 April. European Parliament, Commission for Foreign Affairs, Human Rights, Common Security and Defence Policy (2002): ‘Projet de rapport sur les relations entre l’Union européenne et l’Union du Maghreb arabe: mise en oeuvre d’un partenariat privilégié’, Doc. 2001/2027(INI) PROVISOIRE 30, Jan. Leicester, G. (1995): Turkey and the European Union: The Case for a Special Relationship, Reading: University of Reading Graduate School of European and International Studies, Papers in European and International Social Science Research, 55.


Rejeb, M.S. and B.Talbi (1995): ‘Etude rétrospective du système fiscal en Tunisie’, in Institut d’Economie Quantitative (IEQ), Politiques économiques 3; Tunis: IEQ, pp.39–50. Robert, L. (1995): Convergence, Cohesion and Integration in the European Union, New York: St Martin Press. Pace, R. (1995): Assessing Malta’s Bid to Join the European Union: The Case in Favour, Reading: University of Reading Graduate School of European and International Studies, Papers in European and International Social Science Research, 55. Sid Ahmed, A. (1995): ‘Vers une nouvelle stratégie maghrébine de développement’, in J.F. Daguzan and R.Girardet (eds.), La Méditerranée Nouveaux défis, nouveaux risques, Paris: Publisud. Sid Ahmed A. (1998): ‘Intégration maghrébine et intégration euroméditerranéenne, leçons tirées du Mercosur’, in GERM, L’Annuaire de la Méditerranée, Paris: Publisud. UNDP (2002): Arab Human Development Report, New York: United Nations Development Programme. Zaafrane, H. and A.Mahjoub (1999): Le projet de la zone de libre-échange et le Processus de Barcelone, Euromesco papers, March.

12 Israeli Policy Perspectives on the EuroMediterranean Partnership in the Context of EU Enlargement ALFRED TOVIAS

The idea of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) was launched while Israel was negotiating a new bilateral trade agreement with the EU. Thus, at the outset, Israel adopted quite a defensive position towards the initiative. After the start of the Barcelona Process, however, Israel played a more active role. With the launching of the EMP, an increasing number of Israeli policy-makers and intellectuals took the view that, in spite of its many deficiencies, Israel had a clear interest in the continuation of this process. For Israel, however, the framework of the Barcelona Process remains difficult. Israel differs from its southern neighbours in terms of its socioeconomic features, which are more similar to those of EU countries, particularly in view of the forthcoming enlargement. With the future EU membership of up to 13 countries (including Turkey) from central and eastern Europe and the Mediterranean basin, each with a GDP per capita (in $) below the Israeli level, the EU will be transformed into an economic and political entity of 27 or 28 countries that will become much closer to Israel, not only geographically but also politically, culturally and economically. As explained below, in a virtual EU including Israel, the latter would be the ‘median’ country in terms of Human Development.1 Moreover, the nature of the EMP will change as a result of this enlargement since the Partnership will be reduced to one between the EU and a group of Arab countries, with the position of Israel among the Mediterranean Partner Countries (MPCs) being called into question. Israeli Ambitions and Barcelona Realities In 1992 the Israeli government of the late Yitzhak Rabin decided that an upgrading of the free trade agreement of 1975, signed in the context of the Global Mediterranean Policy of 1972, was in Israel’s best interests. He thereby abandoned the idea of requesting anchorage in the European Economic Area, which had been suggested after the Gulf War by the Italian foreign minister but was rejected by the European Commission. Subsequently, Israel could only realistically work for simple improvements


in its relations with the EC in the realms of agriculture and rules of origin, as well as a broadening of the content to include subjects not well covered by, or absent from, the 1975 agreement, such as the right of establishment and supply of services. Bilateral negotiations leading to a new EC-Israel agreement formally started in February 1994, a few months after Israel and the PLO had signed the Declaration of Principles on mutual recognition and limited Palestinian self-rule, and thus had started the Oslo peace process. These developments took place before the European Commission came forward in October 1994 with the holistic, all-embracing and comprehensive project for the establishment of the EMP. However, it is worthwhile noting here that already in December 1994 at the European Council of Essen, at the prompting of German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, the Council decided to confer on Israel a ‘special status’ within the EMP in recognition of its advanced level of economic development. In fact, in the German version of the declaration issued at this time, the term used was ‘privileged status’.2 The bilateral negotiations continued to take their own course in early 1995, independently of talks under way between the European Commission and all the Mediterranean non-EU countries (including Israel) over the launching of the EMP. For obvious reasons, the Commission had an interest in linking the bilateral deals and its new Mediterranean project. Not surprisingly, Israel was gently pressed to sign its new agreement with the EU, packaged as a ‘Euro-Mediterranean’ association agreement, on 20 November 1995, a week before the Barcelona Conference took place. At that point, Israel did not give much thought to the name of the legal instrument (‘a Euro-Mediterranean agreement establishing an association’). Israel saw its economic place as being in Europe. In fact, by 1995 the mass immigration from the former Soviet Union, which had started in 1989 with the end of the cold war, had contributed to the rapid transformation of Israel’s economy into a modern, European-type economy, thanks to the new immigrants’ generally high formal education standards. Thus, in economic terms, Israel had become less Mediterranean by the time the EMP was established than it had been in 1972 when the Global Mediterranean Policy was introduced. In economic terms, Israel was less similar to other southern Mediterranean countries than it had been in the 1970s and 1980s with, for example, fruit and vegetables becoming of marginal importance in its exports to the EU. In its economic ‘basket’, the EMP did not address any Israeli needs that the 1995 bilateral agreement had not. There were possibly some indirect gains for Israel from the Partnership, since now it could participate in bidding for projects to be financed by the EU’s development aid programme (MEDA) within the framework of the Barcelona Process. Israel could also benefit indirectly from the funds allocated bilaterally to Arab Mediterranean countries and to Turkey, which represent around 85 to 90

220 ISRAELI POLICY PERSPECTIVES

per cent of the total allocated, and of which neither Malta, Cyprus nor Israel were direct recipients. But the choice of supplier remained in the hands of the respective country, which was thus free to reject Israeli bids for whatever reason— including political reasons. Of course Israel was eligible to participate in regional projects, but they represented only approximately ten to 15 per cent of the allotted MEDA funds. From a political point of view, the EU’s decision to place Israel in the category of the Mediterranean countries met with an ambivalent response on the Israeli side. On the one hand, economic considerations and unrelenting pressure by Israel to be seen as a special case translated into a certain reluctance to be categorized as one of the southern Mediterranean countries, even in political or geographical terms. On the other hand, some considered there to be potential political benefits from the Barcelona Process, while acknowledging that Israel as a non-EU member is indeed located on the southern shore of the Mediterranean. Israeli Foreign Ministry officials in charge of the EMP tended to adopt the latter position. After all, Israel could only agree with the EU strategy that aimed at transforming the southern Mediterranean into an area of ‘peace, stability and prosperity’, and hope to benefit from the economic development and European promotion of democratization throughout this region. Furthermore, diplomatically speaking, participation in the Barcelona Process was itself at its inception a success for Israel, since it became an equal partner along with the other participants.3 Israel’s Progressive Disenchantment with the Barcelona Process4 The Barcelona Process soon turned out to be a hostage of the Middle East peace process (MEPP). Stalemates and recurrent crises in the latter directly influenced the progress of the Partnership. Particularly during 1996–98, the Barcelona Process slowed down owing to derailments of the MEPP. The situation improved somewhat after the informal meeting of the 27 EMP foreign ministers in Palermo in June 1998. Robin Cook, British foreign secretary during his country’s EU presidency, pressed for a more pragmatic attitude, which was widely adopted by the participants. At the Palermo meeting, it was decided to unfreeze projects and to go ahead, the crisis of the MEPP notwithstanding, in view of the fact that funds for projects were still available for use. With the recurrent stalemates that occurred in Syrian-Israeli negotiations, it became clear however that the Barcelona Process was strongly dependent on the success of the MEPP. Since the outset of the EMP, Israel had been refuting the argument of other participants that the lack of progress in the peace process would necessarily contaminate all aspects of the Barcelona Process. However, Israel soon realized that


everything was measured in political terms, even the meetings within the economic basket of the EMP. Thus, even before the eruption of the Al-Aqsa Intifada in October 2000 and the collapse of the peace process, each derailment of the MEPP tended to slow down the Barcelona Process. Conversely, the EMP tended to advance at times when the peace process seemed to get ‘back on track’. This was the case after the signing of the 1998 Wye Agreement between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, and later with the restart of peace negotiations in the aftermath of the May 1999 elections, which brought to power the Labour-led government under Ehud Barak. However, by this time some Israeli officials were already questioning the value of a forum in which some participants were not willing to communicate with Israel. The latter was certainly interested in genuine Mediterranean co-operation, and some Israeli officials drew a rather positive picture of what could be achieved in the future. Indeed, even since the breakdown of the MEPP and the start of the Intifada, a number of EMP projects have continued. These are mainly projects in which no senior officials are involved, such as youth and other projects forming part of the cultural basket. While Israel was not opposed in principle to the idea of anchoring the Maghreb to the European economy and creating a European sphere of influence in North Africa, it rejected the conceptual link between the peace process and North—South problems. Israel, unlike the Maghreb and Mashreq countries, is in no need of ‘anchoring’ economic and political reforms, one of the central objectives of the Barcelona Process. In sum, Israel has been finding it increasingly difficult to see itself as belonging to the ‘South’. Israel and Mediterranean Regionalism5 The option of being part of the Mediterranean had never been seriously considered in Israel, at least not before the start of the Barcelona Process.6 This may be surprising for Europeans who visit Israel’s cities on the Mediterranean shore and cannot help but notice a similarity to the lifestyle characterizing other cities around the Mediterranean. One exception worth mentioning is the well-known Israeli novelist Amos Oz, who in 1986 wrote that Israelis were Mediterranean people. He later stated that, in the event of peace between Israel and its neighbours, ‘Ashdod is not a bad option’,7 referring to a Mediterranean town south of Tel Aviv, where Jewish Israelis originating from both Morocco and Russia coexist. Although for many Oriental Jews and Israeli Arabs, eastern European cultural patterns appear strange and alien to Israel whereas, in their view, Israeli society has a high affinity with the way people live and behave in the Middle East, this is by no means the perspective of Israel’s establishment.


In fact, the reluctance of Israeli elites to be placed in the category of the ‘South’ in political and economic terms is reflected at the level of identity. Indeed, for many Jews of European origin (Ashkenazi Jews), the LevantMiddle East option seems at odds with secular Zionism as well as with Israel’s political and economic characteristics. For others, the concept of the Middle East seems too parochial and isolated, and is also associated with wars and conflicts. The collapse of the Oslo Process has only reinforced these feelings. Israeli Foreign Ministry officials in charge of the EMP still stress that Israel is not opposed to the regional co-operative security approach on which the EMP is based. However, Israel has never relied on regional security approaches to ensure its security.8 Indeed, Israel’s approach to security has been characterized traditionally by bilateral relations rather than multilateral ventures. The Way Forward: Some Policy Options9 In view of the above, a rethinking of EU-Israel relations is necessary. The following four options are presented in a sequence extending from the least innovative to the most daring. The author will leave it to the reader to decide which of them s/he prefers. This is why no general conclusions will be drawn. Option 1: Israel in the EMP As some Israeli observers claim, since the EMP does not harm anyone for the time being, and may even yield benefits in the future, there is no reason why Israel should not continue to participate in the process. Beyond this kind of reasoning, some experts say that there are additional benefits to be derived by Israel from Barcelona. These however involve adopting a longterm perspective and accepting a broader approach to regional security, going beyond ‘hard security’ issues and their measurement in terms of military capabilities and the distribution of power. First, being a member of the Euro-Mediterranean ‘club’ is politically and diplomatically advantageous for Israel, particularly considering its diplomatic ‘pariah’ status. Moreover, in spite of all the difficulties, Israel’s participation in the process is part of the underlying rationale of Barcelona. To put it differently, without Israel there would be no Barcelona Process. Rather, the meetings would resemble the failed Euro-Arab Dialogue of the 1970s, broadened for the time being by the participation of Turkey, Malta and Cyprus, three candidates for full EU membership. But in such a forum, and without Israel’s participation, the main objective of the EMP, namely to stabilize the Mediterranean, would become obsolete.


On the other hand, Israel (it is argued by those defending this policy option) has an interest in influencing the Barcelona Process, and has a considerable contribution to make to regional co-operation in the three baskets. Second, and related to the previous point, in spite of the deficiencies of the Barcelona Process from an Israeli point of view, the EMP remains the only multilateral forum available for possible economic, political and cultural co-operation with its regional partners, since the multilateral track of the Oslo Process has been frozen now for many years. Third, the emergence and institutionalization of this type of contact and co-operation between different segments of civil society provide a vehicle for the promotion of regional security in the long term. The Barcelona Process hardly deals with the military dimension of security.10 But through the lens of an alternative approach to regional security, the EMP’s main concern is indeed security. Co-operation in the political basket of Barcelona may enhance the planning and implementation of more ‘classical’ confidence-building measures. This is clearly in Israel’s interest. Moreover, precisely because Barcelona is not dealing with ‘hard’ security issues, it permits Israel to maintain its traditional ‘hard’ security cooperation with the US, while focusing on ‘soft’ security issues in a regional context under the auspices of the EU. Fourth, given the uneasy co-existence of ‘European’ and ‘Oriental’ patterns within Israeli culture, the ambiguity of the Mediterranean idea is undoubtedly an asset, since it accommodates different interpretations of Israeli identity and may ‘over-arch’ different sub-identities. At the same time, a Mediterranean identity has the potential to bridge East and West, North and South, and may thus create and promote common themes and values between Israel and its Mediterranean neighbours, on the one hand, and between the EU and its southern periphery on the other. Summing up, for those in favour of this policy option, it is important for Israel to preserve the Barcelona Process as the only forum for multilateral co-operation with its neighbours, no matter what difficulties there have been thus far, and may be in the foreseeable future. Although the present does not offer a comforting picture, Barcelona may be able to boost EuroMediterranean co-operation for the benefit of all the parties concerned, so long as the peace process is re-launched. In this event, the already existing networks of Mediterranean co-operation and the role of civil society may be crucial for the consolidation of peace. Thus, for the supporters of this policy option, no one should expect miracles from the Barcelona Process for the time being, but it is important to bear in mind the potential benefits of the Partnership in the long run.


Option 2: Bilateral Agreements of the Swiss-EU Type Those defending this policy option argue that the only realistic alternative to the present situation is for Israel to try to obtain the degree of economic integration with the EU attained by Switzerland. Israel has been trying to follow this route for a number of years, with mixed results. It consists in negotiating bilateral sectoral agreements on the elimination of specific nontariff barriers while ignoring sectors where neither side sees any advantage in eliminating obstacles to trade. That could be the case, for example, with regard to the flow of manpower between the EU and Israel. In May 2000, for instance, Israel signed an Agreement on Good Laboratory Practices, allowing Israeli laboratories to certify the fulfillment of EC industrial standards by Israeli producers of chemicals, pesticides and food additives [Sadeh, 2002]. However, Israel has not been able yet to obtain a mutual recognition agreement regarding EC and Israeli standards. Obviously this ‘Swiss’ strategy would seek to capitalize upon the existence of the European Council’s declaration at Essen in December 1994, mentioned already, which spoke of a ‘special’ or ‘privileged’ status being offered to Israel. Those defending this option stress the flexibility of the formula [Schwok, 2001]. On the down side, however, and as shown by the negotiations of the EU with Switzerland, the EU is not keen to sign agreements ‘à la carte’ with third countries and it totally rejects what it sees as attempts at ‘cherry-picking’ by them. This formula appears realistic to its proponents because it ‘takes two to tango’. They argue that not only Option 4, below (EU membership), but also Option 3 (EEA membership) would be rejected out of hand by the European partners. In the case of Option 4, it would be rejected by EU member states, while in the case of Option 3 by the present members of the EEA, and Norway in particular. It is not only a matter of the latter wishing to remain neutral regarding the Israel-Arab conflict, but also of Norway’s ambition to play once more the role of mediator in the future (as in the past with the Oslo Process). Apparently, Norway also rejected the possibility of Slovenian accession to the EEA at a time when the former was exploring this possibility. The Swiss formula also has the advantage over the EEA one of allowing for individual opt-outs. The EEA formula is more rigid than it looks, since unwillingness by one non-EU member of the EEA to apply a particular EC directive implies a rejection of all of them. Given that Israel and Norway are not like-minded countries and have very different economic structures and interests, this is a possibility to be reckoned with.11 The basic argument against going for this option is that is does not meet the needs of Israel even minimally, in view of the quantum changes taking


place in and around the European continent. It also would leave Israel in limbo regarding its categorization and position in the EU’s system of external regionalism. This is what the two following options try to get to grips with. Option 3: EEA Membership The third policy option rests partly on the argument that the economic component of the EMP cannot in a substantial way attain its own declared objectives, namely the stabilization and growth of the Mediterranean Arab economies. This is because the EMP will not lead to the real economic integration of Mediterranean non-EU countries with the European hub, as would for example integration into the European Economic Area or the EU. As explained elsewhere,12 only membership in one of these two clubs could work as a really effective anchor for wide-ranging reforms, economic integration and economic modernization. In this respect, a mere institutionalization of the EMP, as suggested by Xenakis and Chryssochoou [2001:119], would not be helpful. On the contrary, as stated by Adler and Crawford in a recent, as yet unpublished, paper, the EMP has focused ‘too much on form and procedure and too little on content’ [Adler and Crawford, 2002]. Thus, the EMP is bound to fail sooner or later and this independently of what Israel does or does not do.13 Why should Israel continue to be associated with a failed project from which it benefits only occasionally? Meanwhile the EU is not standing still. This is a second point that would be emphasized by the advocates of Option 3. The EU is now set to admit ten new members from southern and eastern Europe in May 2004, and this has many implications for Israel. For a start, the entry into the EU of the most developed countries of central and eastern Europe (such as Hungary and the Czech Republic) is of particular relevance for Israeli light industries.14 There are other economic but also some political implications.15 For instance, the incorporation of Cyprus means that Blue Europe will be extended further in the Mediterranean towards the eastern Mediterranean. Negotiations on the right to fish in Cyprus’ exclusive economic zone waters will have to be conducted by Israel with Brussels rather than with Nicosia. The same applies to the exploitation of seabed resources such as oil and gas. In the same vein, the EU will be involved much more than before in the prevention of environmental hazards arising in the eastern Mediterranean. In more graphic terms, the sinking of an oil tanker close to Cyprus, endangering marine and tourist resources there, would become a European problem, not just a Cypriot problem. The recent catastrophe of the oil tanker Prestige along the coast of northwest Spain is an illustration of what is at stake in economic terms.


Furthermore, in trade policy terms the enlarged EU of 25 will be perceived as an even more impressive trading bloc than it is now by Israel. The latter’s trade dependence in relation to the EU will increase as has happened with every previous enlargement. The EU of 25 will have to be respected even more than it is nowadays. For instance, potential EU trade sanctions or anti-dumping investigations against Israel would bite more than now. In relation to the EU of 15, the geographic area of the EU will increase by 23 per cent, something very significant in agricultural and strategic terms. Taking into account that the expansion of the EU population will be 20 per cent, these two elements are very significant for Israeli exporters of some food, health, telecommunications and defence products. And with an even larger single market, the EU will become even more attractive to direct investors. It is not only that central and eastern Europe will attract a lot of FDI, as Spain and Portugal did in the five years following accession: the existing EU members will also receive much more FDI as a result of the addition of ten countries to the EU of 15. Politically, with the coming enlargement, the weight of EU Mediterranean member countries in EU institutions and decision-making will decrease, in spite of the incorporation of Cyprus, Malta and Slovenia. Even if one-third of its members will still be Mediterranean countries, the latter’s real economic and demographic weight and therefore their voting power will decrease in relative terms in the enlarged EU. The addition of Cyprus, which is directly affected by the EU’s relations with Mediterranean non-member countries, cannot compensate for the lack of interest of the other candidate countries in Mediterranean-related issues. Most experts predict that, in view of the Baltic and central and eastern European countries’ foreign policies, Russia, the Ukraine and south-eastern Europe will become more important focuses than now of the enlarged EU’s external relations, and that more attention will be given to the European continent. Thus, all other things being equal, the Barcelona Process will lose steam. But seen from Israel, there are also some positive political implications of the enlargement. Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic feel certain cultural and historical affinities with Israel. The latter is also regarded in central and eastern Europe as a powerhouse in research and development with which it makes sense to co-operate. More generally, the new members will be among those siding with those in the EU that are more receptive to Israel’s contention that it should be treated by the EU like an EFTA member. In particular, Hungary does not see the Mediterranean non-EU countries as a homogeneous group. In the eyes of Hungarian policy-makers and intellectuals, Israel must be singled out. In the case of the Czech Republic, regarding prospective relations of the EU with Israel, there have been and still are friendly relations between the socialist parties of both countries. By all accounts, the citizens of the Czech Republic are the least


anti-Semitic among those of the applicant countries and tend to view as very positive the contribution of Jews to their national identity. By extension, Israel is perceived as a quasi-European country, something that might lead Czech governments to view a strengthening of EU relations with Israel rather positively. Cyprus says it is a bridge between Europe and the Middle East and that it wants to continue to play this role after accession. Because of its geo-strategic location, it has a vital interest in economic and political stability in the eastern and southern Mediterranean. Israel is a good customer for the exports of Cyprus. It therefore stands to reason that once in the EU, Cyprus will back a strengthening of EU-Israeli relations (as confirmed recently by the current foreign minister of Cyprus to this author). Given these new inputs in EU policy-making and (as in the previous policy option) the EU’s recognition since the Essen Council of 1994 that Israel deserves a ‘special/privileged status’ because of its high economic development, those defending this policy option will argue that Israel should apply for entry into the European Economic Area. The latter provides for inclusion in the EU single market of EFTA countries that do not want to become full members of the EU, such as Norway and Iceland. It implies, in short, full economic integration without political integration in the EU. This model of relations might suit both sides. Because the Arab-Israeli conflict remains unsolved and may remain so for a long time, it stands to reason that many EU member states would reject an Israeli application for membership of the EU (see Option 4). In contrast, access to the single market is practically devoid of political significance. For Israel, economic anchorage with the EU seems of primordial importance. In the short and medium run, Israel would not be willing to rely on EU membership for its own security, in sharp contrast to the position of Cyprus. In fact, at this stage of national development many Israelis would oppose entry into a supranational club. Even the EEA formula might be considered too much for some, since it would imply freedom of movement of manpower between Israel and other members of the EEA. On the other hand, Israeli law-makers might prove sympathetic to the idea of both participating in the EU’s decision-shaping process (the formula adopted in the EEA) and adjusting to the acquis communautaire in the domain of trade in goods, services and capital, because in fact the effort required would be in many instances minimal. Current legislation is quite close to that of the EU in many sectors and domains (for example, competition policy). After all, Israel is a modern democratic country where the rule of law prevails and it shares many features with Europe. The reform efforts to be made by the Israeli legislator would be worthwhile since more than 40 per cent of Israel’s trade in goods and services is with the EU, and even more so after the forthcoming enlargement. For instance,


issues such as mutual recognition of professional competence and diplomas are key for the development of an Israeli economy increasingly based on the export of high-tech services. On the other hand, and this must be considered also as an advantage, EEA membership can be seen, after all, as a transitional or preparatory stage towards possible future EU membership, helping to develop trust between the EU and Israel. In this sense the EEA option would be compatible with the ‘visionary perspective of future membership’ so critical in being able to change things on the ground in the Middle East (see Option 4 below). And because EEA membership would be less controversial for EU member states, the objections of the latter to this option would be comparatively smaller. To begin with, a communication from the European Commission published in 1993 on the ‘Future Relations and Cooperation between the Community and the Middle East’ suggested that ‘the Community should offer Israel the same concept of partnership (as the Mashreq states) adopted to its situation, and should involve Israel more closely with European developments’ [Commission, 1993]. On page 6 of this document, the Commission endorses the idea that ‘Israel sees its future…closely linked to the European Economic Area and institutions’.16 This communication seems to have been forgotten since 1993, after the Commission decided to bet on the EMP in 1995, which led it to treat each Mediterranean non-EU country more or less equally. Furthermore, while Romano Prodi, the current President of the European Commission, has explicitly ruled out Israeli membership of the EU, he did speak in 2002 about the future development of a ‘proximity policy’, which would need to address all countries bordering the enlarged EU of 28, including Israel, providing for ‘the extension of principles, rules, standards and sectoral cooperation’ to the EU’s neighbours [Euromed Report, 2002:3]. In the same vein, the ‘Preliminary Draft Constitutional Treaty’ of 28 October 2002 presented by the former French president and chairman of the group drafting a constitution for Europe, Giscard d’Estaing, includes an article containing ‘provisions defining a privileged relationship between the Union and its neighbouring states’ [European Convention, 2002]. These two recent European initiatives, in addition to the aforementioned communication of the European Commission, in the view of this author allow for the development of a special relationship between Israel and the EU taking the form of EEA membership. With a GNP of less than one per cent the size of that of the EU of 15, the economic integration of an advanced industrialized country such as Israel in the EU would not present the latter with any significant problem.


Option 4: EU Membership The reasoning behind this fourth option is as follows. Since its creation the EC has been the leading trading partner of Israel. This economic relationship deepened with the successive enlargements of 1973, 1981 and 1986 and the conclusion of increasingly complex trade agreements in 1970 and 1975. But whereas until the end of the 1980s Israel could set itself as a strategic aim the objective of deepening its economic integration with an emerging trading bloc, this has not been enough for the country since 1989. The strategic changes that have taken place since then both in Europe and in the Middle East call not only for the economic but also for the political integration of Israel in the European Union, that is, membership. Economically the EC has evolved since the early 1990s into a real single market for goods, services, labour and capital, and then since 1999 into a monetary union. This change in the level of integration of markets of goods and services is bound to discriminate (whether intentionally or not) against those who remain outside the area of integration, both in terms of trade and in terms of investment. The issue of economic discrimination could be taken care of, more or less, by integrating Israel into the EEA (as in Option 3 above). However, for Israel there have been changes in the last decade equivalent to real earthquakes in the political, sociological and demographic realms: (1) The cold war is over, the Soviet Union has collapsed and Germany has been peacefully reunified. (2) Most of the neutral European countries, after some hesitation, have decided to join the EC, known as the EU since 1992. EFTA has been rolled back and has little future; nor does the EEA. (3) All the countries of eastern Europe, three Baltic and three Mediterranean countries (Turkey, Cyprus and Malta) are candidates for EU membership, with ten of them expected to join as soon as 2004. A date for the start of negotiations on the inclusion of Turkey in the EU is likely to be decided at the end of 2005. While all 13 candidates dream of ‘returning to Europe’, many of them are fiercely nationalistic, no less than Israel for that matter. (4) After 2004 with the entry of Cyprus, Israel will have a common border with the EU, and the latter’s centre of gravity will move southward and eastward, moving closer to Israel, thus increasing both Israel’s dependence on the EU and the Union’s relevance for Israel. This is even more so in the medium term in the perspective of Turkish accession to the EU.


(5) The MEPP, which started after the Gulf War and looked to the emergence of a New Middle East, has collapsed. The Oslo Process, based on developing mutual trust and integration rather than separation, appears to have ignored deep-seated animosities and cultural disparities. The Palestinians are interested in independence, not integration. Israel was interested in integration when it signed the Customs Union Agreement with the Palestinian Authority in September 1994, but only to keep control over the territories a little longer. Even assuming that peace between the Israeli and Palestinian people is achieved, the idea of a New Middle East is not welcomed by Egypt, which (rightly or wrongly) fears that Israel would then become the leading economy in the region. Moreover, scientific and other empirical evidence shows that an economically-integrated Middle East could not replace the economic ties of Israel, Turkey or Cyprus with the EU. For Israel it is better to be the ‘tail of a lion rather than the head of a fox’. This was understood by southern Europeans long ago. (6) The EMP, launched in 1995 at the height of the Oslo Process and the Algerian crisis, was conceived by the EU with the economic needs of Arab countries in North Africa in mind, and on the assumption of a New Middle East emerging with the help of Europe. Initially, in 1992, Spain and France were actually suggesting ‘only’ a Euro-Maghreb Partnership, not an EMP. Not surprisingly, neither Turkey nor Cyprus saw the Partnership as an alternative to membership. The latter is the real thing, the former a side-show. As Alejandro Lorca has stated on many occasions, the EU is trying to integrate southern Europe, not the countries to the south of the Mediterranean—a big difference with what the US is trying to do with NAFTA. Mexico for the US is like Portugal, rather than Morocco, for the EU. Many Israeli experts, including this author, would concur with this view, thinking that Israel should follow the Cypriot, Maltese and Turkish line of reasoning and not be left behind. (7) The EMP is badly conceived (see above) and sooner or later it will suffer derailment, be suspended or be transformed into something closer to the failed Euro-Arab Dialogue of the 1970s (which included Gulf countries), that is, a talking shop to prevent a ‘clash of civilizations’, in other words, a much less ambitious project than the EMP. This is even more likely in the context of regime change in Iraq. As this is undertaken, voices may be raised in the EU in favour of opening a political and cultural dialogue with all the Arab countries and not only with those bordering the Mediterranean. Others in the EU might work for the creation of free trade areas with all Arab countries. This author knows of several officials in EU member countries and the Commission who have expressed this view as a personal opinion.


(8) The EU enlargement to the East favours Israel (as explained in Option 3 above). The new EU members will be among those favouring closer relations with Israel (including membership, as spelled out for instance by former Polish foreign minister Geremek in Le Monde, 17 May 2002). They are also countries to which Israelis can relate easily. The EU will be much closer to Israel, both geographically and mentally.17 (9) The degree of involvement of the US in the Middle East is likely to diminish. High-ranking people in the US are suggesting withdrawing from Saudi Arabia and relying increasingly on oil from other parts of the world. (10 Exclusive diplomatic and financial dependence on the US is not a ) healthy feature for Israel in the medium and long run. The US vetoing of the export of Israeli arms to China (even though entirely produced internally), and of Airbus imports by El Al to the detriment of Boeing aeroplanes, are illustrations of unwelcome intervention exerted directly by the State Department in recent years [Sadeh, 2002]. Although the EU would never match the diplomatic, financial and technological assistance that Israel receives from the US, it can safely be said that with EU membership there would be more of a balance in terms of influence of the US and the EU on the State of Israel. (11 Last, but not least, demographically, large-scale immigration from the ) ex-Soviet Union has transformed Israel into a European-type society, much less culturally identified with Middle Eastern societies than only a decade ago. Paradoxically, this has happened at a time when the weight of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern migrants (both legal and illegal) has increased in the EU’s population. Thus, if anything, there has been a convergence in the demographic make-up of European and Israeli societies. On the basis of these various considerations, the solution seen from Israel seems to be to apply for membership of the EU and let the latter state if this is at all conceivable and under what conditions.18 Those backing this option in Israel would stress that the EU and Israel share the same culture and face the same challenges. Paraphrasing the Economist, where the front page of a recent issue stated that ‘Turkey belongs in Europe’,19 Israel belongs in Europe as well, if not more so. In many ways, Israel is already part of European culture, entertainment and mass media activities (for example, actively taking part in Eurovision and sports contests). Taking a step back into history, for Theodore Herzl, the founder of political Zionism, Europe was seen as an example of what the Jewish state should look like politically and culturally. Former Israeli prime minister Ben-Gurion is known to have declared to Chancellor Adenauer in one of their historic encounters that European Jewry was the basis of Israel’s creation. Other Israelis would also argue that Europe, which backed the creation of the


State of Israel for reasons that are well known, has some responsibility for its security and well-being. The geographical argument of Israel not belonging to the European continent shall not stand in the way because other countries that do not belong to it (such as Cyprus) are being considered for membership.20 The EU will have to deal in the future with other borderline cases, geographically-speaking (for example, Armenia and Georgia). Adjusting to the economic and political acquis should certainly not be more difficult for an economically-advanced democratic country such as Israel than for Turkey or Poland, not to mention Bulgaria. Israel is a functioning market economy and fulfils most of the Copenhagen criteria (although undoubtedly it would have to do more in this respect— something which a resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict would facilitate). For a number of years, Israel has been a member of the UN’s Economic Commission for Europe and has become accustomed to co-operating with European countries on a vast array of economic and social matters. All experts concur that Israel could have been an OECD member for years had it not been for political reasons. Israel would be a net donor in budgetary terms in an EU including the current 13 candidates. Israel’s GDP per capita is larger than that of any one of the latter’s.21 In an EU of 27 or 28 member states, Israel would represent the median level of income. Israel’s GDP is larger than that of 11 of the 13 candidate countries. In contrast with their cases, integrating Israel into the EU would not require European pre-accession aid. Given their relative factor endowments, both the EU and Israel would undoubtedly benefit from Israel’s incorporation into the EU system of intra-industry trade. Politically, Israeli membership of the EU would address the country’s sense of solitude and isolation, which would increase notably as a result of the eventual accession of Turkey, an important ally; and it would also improve Israel’s economic and political security, and that is even more the case should Turkey itself become a member state. Who would dare to attack an EU country? Israeli citizens worried about the future of their country’s democracy would perceive EU membership as an antidote to the threats they regard it as facing. For those in Israel who fear the encroachment of religious issues into national politics, EU membership would be a big deus ex machina, since the country would have to enact some legal reforms before accession in order to guarantee some separation of state and religion. To be sure, Israeli membership of the EU would be rejected as an option by many of its citizens once they realize that the Schengen acquis would have to be absorbed, the free movement of manpower and persons between the EU and Israel admitted, the Law of Return probably modified, the exercise of veto power in all matters where QMV prevails abandoned and


the shekel phased out. Thus, any Israeli government pushing this radical option would first have to gauge the state of opinion of its citizens, and probably explain to them what the European Union is all about and what membership implies in terms of advantages and disadvantages. This is not an impossible task, since many prospective EU members have engaged in this kind of exercise before. Of course, as indicated above, ‘it takes two to tango’, which in the present context means that the Europeans might not share all, or even any, of the arguments put forward by Israelis. But the European perspective is a subject for another paper and will not be examined here. However, independently of what Europeans might really think on the matter, they certainly might be very sensitive to what certain third countries would have to say on the matter (as in the Turkish case), more specifically the United States and the Arab countries. Contrary to what some may think, the US would support membership, just as it has supported EU entry for other close allies such as Britain and Turkey. Membership would help to reduce Israel’s strategic and financial dependence on the US, a point stressed in a recent conference by the former French minister Dominique Strauss-Kahn. Israel is part of the West and a ‘virtual’ member of NATO. Entry into the EU could be coupled with entry into NATO, something of interest to the US, the EU and Israel alike. One of the unknowns is what the Arab world would say about Israel’s integration in the EU. A priori one would be tempted to say that the reaction would be negative and even nightmarish for some, but this is not a foregone conclusion. For instance, those countries that have come to terms with the existence of Israel and at the same time admit that it should not be part of the Arab world or the Middle East even in economic terms (for example, because development levels along with labour and environmental standards are far too different) may come to see it as advantageous that Israel should be tied to the European bloc and thus have to conform to some restraining supranational rules. Not only that. Some might see in such a step a relaxation of the overwhelming ties that bind Israel to the USA, something perceived as an advantage from an Arab viewpoint. In any case, it should not be overlooked that, as a member of the EU, Israel would have to adopt the EU’s acquis communautaire in external relations which, according to the EMP, provides for free trade relations with all Arab Mediterranean countries, including the Palestinians. Arguably, for most politically-minded leaders of the latter (including Chairman Arafat), this would have the added ‘advantage’ of transforming their existing customs union relations with Israel into merely a free trade association.


NOTES The author wishes to thank Annette Jünemann, Alejandro Lorca, Raffaella Del Sarto, Dorothee Schmid, Rene Schwok, Stephan Stetter and Tal Sadeh for useful comments on preliminary drafts of the paper. 1. According to the 2002 UNDP Human Development Report, Israel ranked thirty-second in terms of GNP per capita but twenty-second in terms of Human Development. 2. ‘Israel, on account of its high level of economic development, should enjoy special status in its relations with the European Union on the basis of reciprocity and common interests’ [Commission, 1994:28]. 3. This is far from an obvious point. It was only in May 2000 that Israel was accepted into the West European and Others Group (WEOG), the UN grouping of Western states, including those of western Europe, the US, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. 4. For a thorough review of Israel’s activity in the EMP as well as Arab and European reactions, see Del Sarto and Tovias [2001:66–70]. 5. On this subject, see Del Sarto and Tovias [2001]. 6. This point has repeatedly been made by David Ohana of the Ben-Gurion Univeristy of the Negev in the framework of various conferences and seminars on the issue. 7. See Oz [1998:28]. 8. I owe this observation to Martin Kramer and Marc Heller, both of Tel Aviv University. 9. This section expands on ideas first presented in a working paper published by the Centre for European Policy Studies, Brussels, March 2003. See http:// www.ceps.be. 10. The idea of forging a ‘Stability Pact’ in the Mediterranean has remained on the agenda since the launching of the EMP, but to no avail. During the 2000 Euro-Mediterranean meeting in Marseilles, against the background of renewed violence in the Middle East, the idea was abandoned for the time being. See the speech by Chris Patten to the European Parliament— Joint Debate, Brussels, 31 Jan. 2001, at europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/ news/ patten/speech_01_49.htm#top. 11. I wish to thank Rene Schwok for having drawn my attention to this matter. 12. See Tovias [2001b]. 13. According to some unofficial sources, public officials in key EU member countries (including Germany) share the doubts of this author about the future of the EMP after Cyprus and Malta join the EU. To be sure, apart from the reason mentioned here, there are many others mentioned in the literature, such as the collapse of the peace process in the Middle East, September 11 and the future entry of Turkey into the EU. 14. See Tovias and Dafni [2000]. 15. This paragraph draws from Tovias [2001 a]. 16. I wish to thank Stephan Stetter for having drawn my attention to this document.


17. For instance, the renowned author Milan Kundera is known to believe that Israel is at the heart of Europe. 18. Although not the object of this study, it seems clear that, from a European perspective, membership is the only ‘real’ foreign policy instrument that the EU has nowadays, and for more than two decades it has proven to be highly effective in transforming things in the applicant countries even before membership takes place (for example, in southern and eastern Europe, as well as in Turkey). It is worth noting too that the EU has stated repeatedly that it wants to be a player, not only a payer, in the resolution of the IsraeliPalestinian conflict. In the past the EU has tried to use the ‘stick’ with Israel. Why not try the ‘carrot’? 19. See The Economist, 5 Dec. 2002. In the same vein, CFSP high representative Javier Solana has expressed himself in the International Herald Tribune, 7–8 Dec. 2002, saying he hopes to see ‘Turkey take its place in Europe’. 20. The Economist, 5 Dec. 2002, was right in the view of this author to ask: ‘why should geography or religion dictate who might join [the European Union]? 21. Israel’s GDP and GDP per capita rose respectively by 65 per cent and 35 per cent between 1991 and 2000. Israel’s GDP is larger than that of Ireland and twice that of Hungary or the Czech Republic.

REFERENCES Adler, E. and B.Crawford (2002), ‘Constructing a Mediterranean Region: A Cultural Approach’, paper presented at the Conference on ‘The Convergence of Civilizations? Constructing a Mediterranean Region’, Arrábida Monastery, Portugal, June. Ahiram, E. and A.Tovias (eds.) (1995): Whither EU-Israeli Relations? Common and Divergent Interests, Frankfurt: Peter Lang. Barbé, E. (1996): ‘The Barcelona Conference: Launching Pad of a Process’, Mediterranean Politics 1/1, pp.25–42. Brenton, P. (1999): Trade and Investment in Europe: The Impact of the Next Enlargement, Brussels: Centre for European Policy Studies. Chokron L. (1996): ‘The Political Background of the Negotiations toward the 1995 Association Agreement’, in M.Hirsch et al., The Future Relations Between Israel and the European Communities: Some Alternatives, Tel Aviv: Bursi. Commission of the European Communities (1993): Future Relations and Cooperation between the Community and the Middle East, COM(93) 375 fin. Brussels, 8 Sept. Commission of the European Communities (1994): ‘Extracts of the Conclusions of the Presidency of the Essen European Council, 9 and 10 December 1994’, Bulletin of the European Union, Supplement 2/95. Commission of the European Communities (1995): Barcelona Declaration Adopted at the Euro-Mediterranean Conference (November 27 and 28, 1995), Barcelona, 28 Nov. 1995, final version. Del Sarto, R. and A.Tovias (2001): ‘Caught Between Europe and the Orient: Israel and the EMP’, International Spectator 36/4, pp.61–75.


Euromed Report (2002), ‘Europe and the Mediterranean: Time for Action’, speech by the President of the European Commission Romano Prodi, Euromed Report 52. European Convention (2002): ‘Preliminary Draft Constitutional Treaty, Cover Note from the Presidium to the Convention’, Secretariat, CONV 369/02, Brussels, 28 Oct. Hirsch, M. (1996): ‘The 1995 Trade Agreement Between the European Communities and Israel: Three Unresolved Issues’, European Foreign Affairs Review 1/1, pp.87–123. Mayhew, A. (1998): Recreating Europe: The European Union’s Policy toward Central and Eastern Europe, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mira Salama, C. (2002): ‘The Political and Economic Aspects of the EuroMediterranean Partnership’, http://www.edpsg.org/dp23f.htm. Oz, A. (1998): All Our Hopes: Essays on the Israeli Condition, Jerusalem: Keter (in Hebrew). Sadeh, T. (2002): ‘Israel and a Euro-Mediterranean Internal Market’, unpublished paper. Schwok, R. (2001): ‘Switzerland’s Relations with the EU after the Adoption of the Seven Bilateral Agreements’, European Foreign Affairs Review 6, pp.335–54. Shavit, Y. (1988): ‘The Mediterranean World and “Mediterraneanism”: The Origins, Meaning, and Application of a Geo-Cultural Notion in Israel’, Mediterranean Historical Review 3/2, pp.96–117. Stavridis, S. and J.Hutchence (2000): ‘Mediterranean Challenges to the EU’s Foreign Policy’, European Foreign Affairs Review 5/1, pp.35–62. Tovias, A. (1996): ‘The EU’s Mediterranean Policies Under Pressure’, in R.Gillespie (ed.), Mediterranean Politics, Vol. 2 (yearbook), London: Pinter. Tovias, A. and I.Dafni (2000): ‘From 15 to 21: The Impact of the Next EU Enlargement on Mediterranean Non Member Countries’, Marseilles, FEMISE Research Programme, http:// www.femise.org/PDF/A_Tovias_1000.pdf. Tovias, A. (2001a): ‘On the External Relations of the EU-21: The Case of the Mediterranean Periphery’, European Foreign Affairs Review 6/3, pp.375–94. Tovias, A. (2001b): ‘EU Membership and Partnership as Anchors to Economic and Political Reforms in Europe’s Periphery’, in M.Dumoulin and G.Duchene (eds.), L’Europe et la Mediterranee, Brussels: P.I.E.-Peter Lang. Xenakis, D. and D.Chryssochoou (2001): The Emerging Euro-Mediterranean System, Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Abstracts

Security-Building in the Mediterranean After September 11 ANNETTE JÜNEMANN The collection, introduced in this first contribution, sets out to analyse the development of politics in the Mediterranean against the background of a paradigmatically changing international environment. It embarks on the hypothesis that September 11 has resulted in a worrying tendency to securitize international terrorism. The concept of securitization legitimizes the fight against a vital threat by recourse to all possible means, including the breaking of existing rules. This is perceived as worrying because it undermines pivotal factors for security-building, such as the rule of international law, respect for human rights and democracy. Empirical research verifies that since September 11, what were already weak processes of democratization in the Mediterranean have been damaged by the irresponsible depreciation of binding rules. However, since Mediterranean politics have always been determined by the interrelations of international, regional and domestic dynamics, these have to be taken into consideration too. The Al-Aqsa Intifada, the change of political elites in some Arab countries, the evolution of a unilateral European Security and Defence Policy and the process of EU enlargement all have their own political impact. Security-building in the Mediterranean needs to be analysed in the context of these highly interrelated developments. Reshaping the Agenda? The Internal Politics of the Barcelona Process in the Aftermath of September 11 RICHARD GILLESPIE The third basket of the Barcelona Declaration—which outlines plans to build a partnership in social and cultural and human affairs—is at last receiving more attention from policy-makers. This is a result of three factors: an EU desire to address issues that have proved difficult to deal


with in the context of the first (political/security) basket of the Barcelona Process; the growing importance of the EU’s justice and home affairs agenda; and European responses to the worsening Middle East conflict and to September 11. The Spanish Presidency of the European Council (held during the first six months of 2002) obtained approval for policy innovations in the third basket, partly by adopting a much more consultative approach than EU counterparts had adopted previously within the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, thereby obtaining a degree of NorthSouth consensus. However, the agenda for the third basket’s development contains considerable potential for conflict as well as co-operation. In particular, efforts to reinforce dialogue between civilizations and cultural co-operation risk being overshadowed by the current preoccupation of governments with security controls. Repercussions of the Emerging European Security and Defence Policy on the Civil Character of the EuroMediterranean Partnership ANNETTE JÜNEMANN The EU’s most important integration project in recent times is her pursuit of an autonomous European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP). Due to divergent perceptions, interests and national security identities within the EU, however, ESDP is still lacking a coherent strategy. This deficit provokes critical questions about whether ESDP will remain within the framework of a civil security culture, as developed in the theoretical concept of a European civilian power, or whether ESDP will open the way to a more ‘realistic’ approach to EU foreign policy-making. This question is especially decisive for the Mediterranean Partner Countries (MPCs), since their territories are potential destinations for future ESDP missions. So far, Euro-Mediterranean relations have been organized in the civil framework of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP). To what extent will ESDP challenge the special character of the EMP? Gender and Security in the Mediterranean CILJA HARDERS This contribution explores security issues in the Mediterranean from a feminist perspective. Feminists have developed a broad and dynamic understanding of security and insecurity. This approach takes ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ issues as interconnected on the personal, national and international level. This allows for a comprehensive perspective on the basic human need for security. It is argued that EU policies that stress ‘soft’ security issues offer more sustainable and at the same time ‘realistic’ ways of establishing an ‘area of peace and stability in the Mediterranean’ [Barcelona

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Declaration, 1995] than those that stress ‘hard’ security issues. After discussing feminist and developmental perspectives on comprehensive security concepts, the contribution presents some important indicators of ‘Gendered Human Security’ in EMP countries. It argues that it is important to address the huge gaps in gendered human security in order to strengthen the civil and security dimension of the EMP. The contribution finally explores the possible positive effects of womens’ participation in the armed forces. Will these processes change militarized security cultures and help create a more comprehensive security approach? The EMP and Morocco: Diverging Political Agendas? SAID HADDADI The signing of the association agreement between the EU and Morocco in 1996 has made the promotion of democracy and human rights an integral part of their co-operation. The comprehensive strategic approach proclaimed by the EU in this respect requires a degree of consultation as to the political priorities to be covered. Thus, the funding of democracyrelated projects in Morocco seemed to have entailed a general agreement on the thematic areas to be prioritized. This ‘tacit agreement’ has been made easier by Morocco’s will to democratize—albeit slowly—and by the EU’s soft-handed approach to democracy in the country through sidestepping sensitive issues. None the less, such an agreement impedes EU funds from reaching civil society and NGOs with sensitive programmes that could have immediate consequences for democracy. A Two-Level Game: Spain and the Promotion of Democracy and Human Rights in Morocco LAURA FELIU Spain has declared its aim to promote democracy and human rights abroad and specifically in Morocco. This goal appears very ambitious in view of the low degree of institutionalization and consolidation of Spanish human rights foreign policy mechanisms. Moreover, from the outset other factors rule out the possibility of Morocco becoming an object of forceful action: it has a better human rights situation than other North African countries and is of vital importance to Spain, which fears that its own interests could be adversely affected by a resort to coercive policies. Having discarded the use of negative instruments, the route of incentives and rewards for positive evolution entails fewer risks for the promoter country, and seems reasonably appropriate in the case of Morocco. But circumstances such as the low profile of Spanish co-operation policy and the distrust of Spanish civil society towards Morocco have also prevented greater use of actions of a more positive nature.


The External Dimension of Sub-national Governments: Dealing with Human Rights at the Barcelona and Valencia Euromed Civil Fora EDUARD SOLER I LECHA Some sub-national governments of regions and cities have developed their own external relations regardless of central government foreign policies. Mediterranean politics and human rights policy are two fields where we can observe the presence of active sub-national governments, often in alliance or co-operation with civil society actors. Two Spanish regions, Catalonia and Valencia, are among them. However, their patterns of behaviour and the extent of their involvement are quite different. While the Catalan government has developed its own Mediterranean policy, the Valencian one has not. At the same time, compared to the Valencian case, the Catalan administration has allowed less autonomy to the associational actors involved in the Euro-Mediterranean civil society events celebrated in conjunction with the official ministerial conference. Moreover, human rights featured more prominently on the the agenda of the Valencia Conference of 2002 than on that of the Barcelona Conference of 1995. Loss of Guiding Values and Support: September 11 and the Isolation of Human Rights Organizations in Egypt ANGELA GRÜNERT Since September 11, the Egyptian government has successfully exploited the argument of international security in order to fight its domestic opponents. Human rights organizations, in particular, have been accused of Islamist leanings and of supporting radical movements. As a result of these accusations, international donors have suspended their support for human rights NGOs, thereby threatening their very existence. While September 11 appears to have been the turning point, the origins of the campaign against the alliances between human rights organizations and international donors go back much further. The key to a deeper understanding of the dramatic developments in Egypt’s civil society can be found in the complex relationships between donors, NGOs and the Egyptian government.

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Democratization without Democracy? The Assistance of the European Union for Democratization Processes in Palestine STEPHAN STETTER The democratization of the Arab Mediterranean partner countries in general and Palestine in particular is one of the key objectives of the EuroMediterranean Partnership. The European Union has accepted some responsibility in supporting these countries in this transformation process and has, following the Barcelona Conference, set up a huge financial assistance programme. Out of this programme many projects are funded that directly or indirectly aim at democratization and Palestine is one of the most important recipients of EU assistance. However, the actual implementation of assistance has faced many problems. While some of these problems relate to domestic factors, they can also be explained by factors emanating from within the EU system of governance, namely the complex inter-institutional relationship between the Commission, which is responsible for the implementation of assistance measures, and committees dominated by member states, which scrutinize the Commission’s decisionmaking. The EU and the Middle East Conflict: Tackling the Main Obstacle to Euro-M Mediterranean Partnership MURIEL ASSEBURG The Middle East conflict has proven to be one of the main stumbling blocks for the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, particularly with regard to the political and security basket of the partnership. EU support for the Middle East peace process has not produced the intended results. With the breakdown of the Oslo Process and the eruption of violent conflict, the EU has shifted its priorities from economic development, state- and institutionbuilding and regional stabilization to the alleviation of the humanitarian situation, prevention of the collapse of the Palestinian Authority (PA) and the reform of its institutions. The EU has become more active in crisis intervention and it has assumed an ever more active diplomatic role— searching for a way out of the impasse and a political solution to the conflict. However, declaratory and diplomatic achievements have not been translated into progress on the ground before the war on Iraq. This can be traced back to the conduct of the parties in conflict, EU policy-making and US policies.


Arab Regional Integration as a Prerequisite for a Successful Euro-Mediterranean Partnership BÉCHIR CHOUROU The Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) in its current structure is not conducive to greater welfare in the Mediterranean Partner Countries (MPCs) because of, among other reasons, its emphasis on free trade which compounds existing social, economic and financial problems in the South, and its failure to deal adequately with long-term security risks such as scarcity of food and water, desertification, pollution, rampant poverty and authoritarian rule. This study highlights some of these problems through trends observed in the Arab world since the 1970s, and argues, using Tunisia as a case study, that the EMP has not tackled these problems effectively. It further contends that the EMP could serve the interests of Europe and the MPCs better provided that its membership is extended to all Arab countries and that the latter achieve a high degree of economic integration to justify the creation of viable productive projects and to allow an effective participation in the globalized economy. The contribution examines some of the obstacles to Arab integration and proposes measures that the Arab countries and the European Union could take in order to deal with them. Israeli Policy Perspectives on the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership in the Context of EU Enlargement ALFRED TOVIAS This contribution seeks to explain why Israel is having second thoughts about its participation in the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) and to explore the consequences of this reappraisal. Never a major champion of the Barcelona Process, Israel has increasing reasons for being disappointed about how things have evolved. Independently of this, the future EU membership of up to 13 more countries (including Turkey) from central and eastern Europe and the Mediterranean basin, each with a GDP per capita below the Israeli level, will transform the EU into an economic and political entity of 28 countries that will be much closer than now to Israel, not only geographically but also politically, culturally and economically. The nature of the EMP will change through this enlargement since all the Mediterranean non-Arab countries except Israel will then be EU members. The changes to the map of Europe and of the EMP call for a rethinking by Israeli policy-makers of Israel’s place in the EU’s system of external relations.

Notes on Contributors

Annette Jünemann is Professor of Politics and International Relations at the University of the German Armed Forces, Hamburg. Richard Gillespie is Professor of Politics at the University of Liverpool, where he is Director of the Europe in the World Centre. Cilja Harders is a junior professor of Political Science and Gender Studies at the Ruhr-Universität Bochum in Germany. Said Haddadi is a research fellow at the Governance Research Centre, University of Bristol. Laura Feliu is a lecturer in International Relations in the Faculty of Political Science, Autonomous University of Barcelona (UAB). Eduard Soler i Lecha is a Ph.D. candidate in International Relations, a research fellow of the Institut Universitari d’Estudis Europeus and a member of the Observatori de Política Exterior Europea, all at the Universitat Autonòma de Barcelona. Angela Grünert, journalist and author, is studying Politics and Middle Eastern Studies at the Free University of Berlin. Stephan Stetter is a research associate at the Institute for Global Society Studies, Faculty of Sociology, University of Bielefeld and is currently completing his Ph.D. on EU Middle East policies at the Department of Government, London School of Economics and Political Science. Muriel Asseburg is a senior research associate in the research unit on the Middle East and Africa at the Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (SWP), German Institute for International and Security Affairs, Berlin. Béchir Chourou teaches International Relations at the Institut Supérieur de Langues de Tunis, University of Carthage, Tunis. Alfred Tovias holds a Jean Monnet Chair in the Department of International Relations, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem.

Index

Abbas, Mahmud 182, 188–9 Adib, Mustafa, Captain 101, 108n26 Agadir initiative 195, 211 Al-Aqsa Intifada 15, 180–85, 217 Algeria 46, 205, 206 Aliboni, Roberto 52n18 Amnesty International 47 Arab countries democratization 114–15, 156, 158, 171n6 economic indicators 199–200, 202 and Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) 198–202 and European defence policy 45–6 integration 203–12 Arab Human Development Report (AHDR) 199–200 , 205 Arab Maghreb Union (Union du Maghreb Arabe—UMA) 205, 208– 10, 211 Arafat, Yasser 154, 178, 182, 188 armed forces, gender issues 61–6 arms trade, Spain and Morocco 100–1, 108n25 Asseburg, M. 159 Association for Human Rights to Legal Aid, Egypt 141 Attinà, Fulvio 1 Aznar, José María 125 Baehr, P.R. 90 Barak, Ehud 217 Barcelona, Euromed Civil Forum (1995) 13, 119–22 Barcelona Process

civil society 112 Euro-Mediterranean Partnership formation 5, 6 human rights 79–80, 157 and Israel 214–17, 219–20 stagnation of 194 third basket 8–9, 21–2, 24–5, 31–5, 116 see also Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) ‘Barcelona spirit’ 47 Basri, Driss 76 Brussels, Euromed Civil Forum (2001) 118, 129n18 Bush, George, W. 188, 191n15 Buzan, Barry 3 Carreiras, H. 63 Catalonia, sub-national government 117, 118, 119–22 Charter for Peace and Stability 23, 24, 174, 230n10 civilian power concept 39–41 civil society Arab countries 114–15 Barcelona Declaration 112 definition 127n2 Euromed Civil Fora 13, 117–27 Morocco 80, 82 Cockburn, Cynthia 61, 66 cold war, end of 5, 37–8 Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) 21 Connell, R. 67, 68n5 Cook, Robin 216

244

INDEX 245

Crooke, Alistair 184 Cuba, and Spain 106n1 Cyprus, and European Union 6, 16, 219, 221–2, 223, 226, 230n13 Czech Republic 222, 223 democratic peace hypothesis 6 democratization Mediterranean 114–16, 155–9 Morocco 80–87 Palestine 14, 153–5, 159–70 promotion of 4–8, 74–5, 153–70 without democracy 153 donors, and human rights organizations 133–5, 137–9, 146–9 Duchêne, François 39 Dyson, Tom 41 economic indicators, Arab countries 199–200 Egypt government and NGOs 139–41, 149–50 human rights organizations 13–14, 133–51 Law of Associations (Law 153) 139– 43, 150 Egyptian Organization for Human Rights (EOHR) 136–7, 146 Eifler, C. 63 Enloe, Cynthia 56, 68n10 Equatorial Guinea, and Spain 106n1 Eurofor 45, 46 Euromarfor 45, 46 Euromed Civil Fora 13, 117 Barcelona (1995) 13, 119–22 Brussels (2001) 118, 129n18 Stuttgart (1999) 117–18, 124, 129n17, 130n36 Valencia (2002) 13, 122–7 Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements (EMAAs) 74, 195 with Morocco 80, 99 with Palestine 158, 184 Euro-Mediterranean Committee (EMC) 33

Euro-Mediterranean Foundation 30, 32–3 Euro-Mediterranean Free Trade Area (FTA) 52n20, 208 Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Network 33, 47 Euro-Mediterranean Parliamentary Assembly 33 Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) cultural partnership 29–31 democracy promotion 4–8, 79–80, 153 and European Union (EU) 17–19 gendered security issues 59–61 and Israel 214–30 and Maghreb integration 203–12 and Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs) 198–202 membership 16 and Middle East peace process 179– 80, 216–17 security issues 38–9, 54–5 structure of 194–8, 211–12 sub-national governments 116–18 and Tunisia 200–2 see also Barcelona Process Euro-Mediterranean Studies Commission (Euromesco) 44–5, 180 EuropeAid and Cooperation Office (EACO) 75, 81, 83 European Economic Area (EEA), and Israel 220–25 European Free Trade Association (EFTA) 197 European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR) 74–5 European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) 1–2, 9–10, 37–50, 51nn11, 13 European Union (EU) civilian policy 42–4 Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) 38, 41, 74, 187 Common Strategy on the Mediterranean Region (2000) 158, 187, 191n21 democracy promotion 4–8, 74–5, 153–70, 170n1


enlargement 2, 16–17, 214, 221–3, 225–6, 230n13 and Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) 17–19 gender issues 10–11 and Israel 16–17, 184, 214–30 justice and home affairs (JHA) agenda 21–35, 42–3, 48 and Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs) 195–6, 198–202 and Middle East conflict 15–16, 174–89 and Morocco 73–4, 79–87 and Palestine 158, 159–70, 171n8, 175–89, 190nn5, 14 security policy 37–50, 54–5 and Spain 94–7 Financing Framework Conventions 162, 167–8 food security 209, 212n2 foreign direct investment (FDI) 203, 222 foreign policy paradox 12–13, 92–4 France human rights foreign policy 95, 97, 107n6 security culture 43 sub-national governments 115, 128n12 free trade areas 197, 208, 211 Fuster, Joan 123 García Ferrando, Manuel 123 Gender Development Index (GDI) 59– 60 Gender Empowerment Measure (GEM) 59–60 gender order 68n4 gender relations, security issues 10–11, 54–67 Giscard d’Estaing, Valery 224 Global Mediterranean Policy 215 González, Felipe 119 gross domestic product (GDP) Arab countries 199–200 Israel 228

hard and soft security issues 54–5, 58, 219 Hassan II, King of Morocco 12, 76, 92 Helsinki process 4 Herzl, Theodore 228 Hisham Mubarak Law Centre, Egypt 141 Hubic, Meliha 66 Human Development Index (HDI) 59– 60 human rights Morocco 77, 79, 91, 100–1, 108n27 and sub-national governments 116– 27 human rights foreign policy, Spain 90– 106 human rights organizations, Egypt 13– 14, 133–51 human security 56, 67n2, 106n3 Hungary 222, 223 Ibn Khaldun Centre, Egypt 142 Ibrahim, Saad ed-Din 142–3, 144 Institut Català de la Mediterrània 120, 121, 126, 129n24 Integrated Action Plan for the Planning and Development of the Mediterranean Region in Morocco (PAIDAR-Med) 105 integration Arab countries 203–12 theory of 196–8 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 198 Islamists Egypt 133, 144–5, 148–9 Morocco 85–6 Israel and Arab countries 212 bilateral agreements 220–21 economic status 214–16, 228 and Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) 218–19, 226–7 and European Economic Area (EEA) 220–25 and European Union (EU) 6, 16–17, 214–30

INDEX 247

and Mediterranean regionalism 217– 18 migrants 227 and United States 227 women in armed forces 64, 65, 68– 9n15 see also Middle East peace process Jordan, women in armed forces 64–5, 69n17 justice and home affairs (JHA) agenda, European Union (EU) 21–35, 42–3, 48 Kabyles (Berbers) 115 Kamrava, M. 61, 64 King, G. 67n2 Kirste, K. 40 Klein, Uta 61, 64, 65 Kohl, Helmut 215 Latin Mediterranean 120, 129n25 League of Arab States 205 Lebanon, and Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) 24, 179 Le Pen, Jean-Marie 23 Libya 64, 69n16, 205 Lmrabet, Alí 101, 102, 108nn30, 31 Lorca, Alejandro 226 Maastricht treaty 42, 74 Maghreb and Europe 217 integration 198, 203–12 Malta, and European Union 6, 16, 219, 230n13 Maragall, Pasqual 120 Marseilles, Euro-Mediterranean meeting (2000) 174, 230n10 Matutes, Abel 96 Maull, H. 40 Mauritania 205 MEDA Democracy Programme (MDP) 75, 156–7 Morocco 81, 83 Palestine 159–70 MEDA development funds 201–2, 216

MEDA Regulations 6, 74, 88n1, 99, 162, 165–6 MED Committee 161–2, 166–7, 169 Mediterranean Alternative Conference 121–2 Mediterranean partner countries (MPCs) armed forces 61, 64 democratization 6–8, 114–16, 153, 156 and European Union (EU) 195–6, 198–202, 208–12 foreign direct investment (FDI) 203 security issues 44–50 MED-Urbs projects 116 Middle East peace process (MEPP) 4, 14–16, 46, 174–89, 215–17, 226 migration European policies 22–3, 29 Morocco policies 83 to Israel 227 military, gender issues 61–6 Mohamed VI, King of Morocco 11–12, 76, 78, 91, 100–2, 107n20 Morocco arms trade 100–1, 108n25 civil society 80, 82 democratization 80–85, 86–7, 90–92 development aid 109n39 elections (2002) 78–9 and European Union 73–4, 79–80 human rights 77, 79, 91, 100–1, 108n27 Islamists 85–6 Maghreb integration 205 political reform 11–12, 75–9 post-September 11 85–6 relations with Spain 12–13, 90–106 National Indicative Programmes 162, 163, 165 Ninyoles, Rafael 123 non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and donors 133–5, 137–9, 146–9 Egypt 133–51 Morocco 81


Spain 95–6, 104 North Africa see Maghreb North American Free Trade Association (NAFTA) 197 Nour, Ayman 140 Oslo Process 175–80, 215, 226 overseas development assistance (ODA), Spain 104, 109 Oz, Amos 218 Palacio, Ana 97, 102 Palermo, EMP meeting (1998) 216–17 Palestine democratization process 14, 153–5 and European Union (EU) 158, 159– 70, 171n8, 174–89 Intifada 180–85 see also Middle East peace process Palestinian Authority (PA) 175, 178, 181–2, 190nn4, 5 paradiplomacy 113 Patten, Chris 30 peace enforcement 40 Perejil 93, 97 Piqué, Josep 91, 96 Poland 222 Prodi, Romano 224 Pujol, Jordi 119, 120 Quartet statement, Middle East peace process185, 186, 187–8, 189, 191n20 Rabin, Yitzhak 177, 214 Regional Economic Development Working Group (REDWG) 179 ‘road map’, Middle East peace process 182, 185, 187, 188, 189, 190n13 Robinson, Mary 141 securitization, of international terrorism 3–4 security community, establishment of 5– 6 security issues feminist perspective 10–11, 54–67

hard and soft 54–5, 58, 219 human security 56 see also European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) September 11 effects in Egypt 144–5, 147, 149, 151 impacts of 2, 18, 85–6 Sharon, Ariel 182, 188 Sid Ahmed, A. 198 Sion, L. 65 Solana, Javier 129n21 South-South co-operation 203, 208, 210 Spain Development Aid Fund (FAD) 109n46 EU Presidency 25–6, 33–4 Euromed Civil Fora 13, 117–27 and European Union (EU) 94–7 human rights foreign policy 90–106 Human Rights Office (HRO) 98–9 non-governmental organizations (NGOs) 95–6 overseas development assistance (ODA) 104, 109 relations with Morocco 12–13, 90– 106 State Secretariat for International Co-operation and Latin America (SECIPI) 103, 104, 109n36 sub-national governments 115, 118– 27, 128n11 Stavridis, Stelios 1 Strauss-Kahn, Dominique 229 Stuttgart, Euromed Civil Forum (1999) 117–18, 124, 129n17, 130n36 sub-national governments 13, 112–27 Switzerland, and European Union (EU) 220–21 Sylvester, Christine 57 Syria, and Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) 24, 179 terrorism, securitization of 3–4, 85–6 Tewes, Henning 50 Tickner, J.Ann 58, 67 trade, free trade areas 197, 208, 211

INDEX 249

Tunisia and Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP) 200–2 Maghreb integration 205, 206 Turkey 64, 219 Union du Maghreb Arabe see Arab Maghreb Union United Kingdon, security culture 43 United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), human security 56 United States and Egypt 149 and Israel 227 and Middle East peace process 185, 187–8, 190–91n15 securitizing international terrorism 3–4 Valencia Euromed Civil Forum (2002) 13, 122–7 Euromed Conference of Foreign Ministers (2002) 22, 23, 25–35, 179, 194 violence, gendered 58, 62 Western Sahara 96, 107n11 West European and Others Group (WEOG) 230n3 women in armed forces 62–6 Morocco 77 see also gender relations Yassine, Abdessalam 76 Youssoufi, Abderrahmane 76–7 Yuval-Davis, Nira 68n12 Zaplana, Eduardo 124, 126

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