The Boundaries of EU Enlargement: Finding a Place for Neighbours (Studies in Central and Eastern Europe)

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The Boundaries of EU Enlargement Finding a Place for Neighbours

Edited by

Joan DeBardeleben

Studies in Central and Eastern Europe Edited for the International Council for Central and East European Studies by Roger E. Kanet, University of Miami, USA Titles include: Thomas Bremer (editor) RELIGION AND THE CONCEPTUAL BOUNDARY IN CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE Encounters of Faiths Joan DeBardeleben (editor) THE BOUNDARIES OF EU ENLARGEMENT Finding a Place for Neighbours Graeme Gill (editor) POLITICS IN THE RUSSIAN REGIONS Roger E. Kanet (editor) RUSSIA Re-Emerging Great Power Rebecca Kay (editor) GENDER, EQUALITY AND DIFFERENCE DURING AND AFTER STATE SOCIALISM Stanislav J. Kirschbaum (editor) CENTRAL EUROPEAN HISTORY AND THE EUROPEAN UNION The Meaning of Europe Katlijn Malfliet, Lien Verpoest and Evgeny Vinokurov (editors) THE CIS, THE EU AND RUSSIA Challenges of Integration John Pickles (editor) STATE AND SOCIETY IN POST-SOCIALIST ECONOMIES Stephen Velychenko (editor) UKRAINE, THE EU AND RUSSIA History, Culture and International Relations Forthcoming titles include: John Pickles (editor) GLOBALIZATION AND REGIONALIZATION IN POST-SOCIALIST ECONOMIES Common Economic Spaces of Europe Stephen White (editor) MEDIA, CULTURE AND SOCIETY IN PUTIN’S RUSSIA Stephen White (editor) POLITICS AND THE RULING GROUP IN PUTIN’S RUSSIA Stephen Hutchings (editor) RUSSIA AND ITS OTHER(S) ON FILM Screening Intercultural Dialogue

Studies in Central and Eastern Europe Series Standing Order ISBN 0–230–51682–3 hardcover (outside North America only) You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with your name and address, the title of the series and the ISBN quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England

The Boundaries of EU Enlargement Finding a Place for Neighbours

Edited by

Joan DeBardeleben

Editorial matter, selection, introduction and conclusion © Joan DeBardeleben 2008 All remaining chapters © respective authors 2008 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published in 2008 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–52124–7 hardback ISBN-10: 0–230–52124–X hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 08 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents

List of Tables and Figures

vii

List of Abbreviations

viii

Acknowledgements

x

Preface

xi

Notes on the Contributors

xiii

Introduction Joan DeBardeleben Part I

1

EU Enlargement and the New Neighbours

1 The New Neighbours of the European Union: The Compelling Logic of Enlargement? Tom Casier

19

2 The European Neighbourhood Policy and Why the Northern Dimension Matters Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi

33

Part II The EU and Russia 3 The EU’s Policy toward Russia: Extending Governance Beyond Borders? Stefan Gänzle

53

4 Public Attitudes toward EU–Russian Relations: Knowledge, Values, and Interests Joan DeBardeleben

70

5 Regulatory Convergence and Global Partnership: Another Phase in EU–Russian Relations Helena Rytövuori-Apunen

92

6 Russia and the New Europe: Strategies for an Evolving Relationship Norma C. Noonan

v

111

vi

Contents

Part III The EU, Ukraine and Moldova 7 Ukraine and the European Neighbourhood Policy Charles C. Pentland 8 Security Concerns in the EU Neighbourhood: The Effects of EU Immigration and Asylum Policy for Ukraine Lyubov Zhyznomirska 9 The Bologna Process: Exploring Mechanisms of European Enlargement in Ukraine Tetyana Koshmanova 10 Whither Moldova: East or West? Robert Weiner Part IV

129

147

165 182

The EU and South East Europe

11 The Europeanization of ‘Defective Democracies’ in the Western Balkans: Pre-accession Challenges to Democratic Consolidation Lenard J. Cohen

205

12 The EU in South East Europe: Peace Consolidation and Differentiation Annegret Bendiek

222

13 From Petersberg to Pristina: ESDP Operations in South East Europe Charles C. Pentland

238

Conclusion Joan DeBardeleben

256

Bibliography

263

Index

273

List of Tables and Figures

Tables 4.1 Russian evaluations of EU and NATO enlargement, and of the Euro 4.2 Would it be useful for Russia to establish closer economic ties with the countries of the European Union? 4.3 Should Russia strive to join the EU? 4.4 Accuracy of knowledge about EU enlargement 4.5 Accuracy of knowledge about EU enlargement by region 4.6 Predictors of support for Russian efforts to join the EU 11.1 State of democracy in the western Balkans

74

75 75 82 82 84 215

Figures 11.1 Citizen attitudes in EU member states regarding the prospective admission of the western Balkan states

vii

208

List of Abbreviations BEAC BiH BTI CARDS CBSS CEEC CES CFSP CIS CIVCOM CMEA CSCE CSFSJ EAPC EC ECSC EEA EHEA ENP ENPI ESDI ESDP EU EUBAM EUFOR EUMC EUMS EUPM FSU FYROM IFOR IGO IMF IPTF IR

Barents Euro-Arctic Council Bosnia-Herzegovina Bertelsman Transformation Index Community Assistance for Reconstruction, Democratization and Stabilization Council of Baltic Sea States Central and East European Countries Common Economic Space Common Foreign and Security Policy Commonwealth of Independent States Committee for the Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management Council for Mutual Economic Assistance Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe Common Space of Freedom, Security and Justice Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council European Community European Coal and Steel Community European Economic Area European Higher Education Area European Neighbourhood Policy European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument European Security and Defence Identity European Security and Defence Policy European Union European Union Border Assistance Mission European Union Force European Union Military Committee European Union Military Staff European Union Police Mission Former Soviet Union Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia Implementation Force International Governmental Organization International Monetary Fund International Police Task Force International Relations viii

List of Abbreviations ix

JCC JHA MID NATO NDI NEGP NGO NIS NPI OHR OSCE PCA POF PPC PSC RCC RNC RRM SAA SACEUR SAP SECI SEECP SES SFOR SHAPE SIS SSPM TACIS TAIEX TCN TEU UK UN UNDP UNMIK US WEU WMD WTO

Joint Control Council Justice and Home Affairs Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Russia North Atlantic Treaty Organization Northern Dimension Initiative Northern European Gas Pipeline Non-governmental Organization Newly Independent States Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument Office of the High Representative Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Partnership and Cooperation Agreement Public Opinion Foundation Permanent Partnership Council Political and Security Committee Regional Cooperation Council Russia-NATO Council Rapid Reaction Mechanism Stabilization and Association Agreement Supreme Allied Commander Europe Stabilization and Association Process Southeast European Cooperative Initiative South-East European Cooperation Process Single Economic Space Stabilization Force Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe Schengen Information System Security and Stability Pact for Moldova Technical Assistance for the Commonwealth of Independent States Technical Assistance and Information Exchange Office Third-country National Treaty of the European Union United Kingdom United Nations United Nations Development Programme United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo United States Western European Union Weapon(s) of Mass Destruction World Trade Organization

Acknowledgements The production of this volume would not have been possible without the encouragement and assistance of the series editor, Roger Kanet, who provided both intellectual input as well as practical advice through every stage of the process. I am also particularly grateful to Margaret Watts, my ever patient copy-editor, who contributed countless hours and an attentive eye in preparing each and every chapter. This project benefited from support from Carleton University, particularly the Institute of European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies and the Centre for European Studies (European Union Centre of Excellence), which receives support from the European Commission. My own research related to contributions to this volume has received support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. Finally, I thank all of the authors, who so faithfully responded to my numerous, no doubt sometimes annoying, inquiries and suggestions in a timely manner, and who worked together to create a coherent approach to a complex issue.

x

Preface by General Editor When the International Council for Central and East European Studies (ICCEES) was founded at the first international and multidisciplinary conference of scholars working in this field, held in Banff, Alberta, Canada, on 4–7 September 1974, it was given the name International Committee for Soviet and East European Studies (ICSEES). Its major purpose was to provide for greater exchange between research centres and scholars around the world who were devoted to the study of the USSR and the communist states and societies of Eastern Europe. These developments were the main motivation for bringing together the very different national organisations in the field and for forming a permanent committee of their representatives, which would serve as an umbrella organization as well as a promoter of closer co-operation. Four national scholarly associations launched ICSEES at the Banff conference: the American Association for the Advancement of Slavic Studies (AAASS), the National Association for Soviet and East European Studies in Great Britain (NASEES), the British Universities Association of Slavists (BUAS), and the Canadian Association of Slavists (CAS). Over the past three decades six additional Congresses have been held: in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany, 1980; Washington, USA, 1985; Harrogate, UK, 1990; Warsaw, Poland, 1995; Tampere, Finland, 2000; and Berlin, Germany, 2005. The next Congress is scheduled for 2010 in Stockholm, Sweden. The original four national associations that sponsored the first congress have been joined by an additional seventeen full and six associate member associations, with significantly more than a thousand scholars participating at each of the recent congresses. It is now a little over three decades since scholars felt the need to coordinate the efforts in the ‘free world’ to describe and analyze the Communist political systems, their societies and economies, and East– West relations in particular. Halfway through this period, the Communist system collapsed, the region that was the object of study was reorganized, and many of the new states that emerged set out on a path of democratic development, economic growth, and, in many cases, inclusion in Western institutions. The process turned out to be complex, and there were setbacks. Yet, by 2004, the European Union as well as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization had welcomed those postCommunist states that had met all of the requirements for membership. xi

xii Preface by General Editor

Not all of the applicant states achieved this objective, but the process is ongoing. For this reason, perhaps even more than before, the region that encompassed the former Communist world demands study, explanation, and analysis, as both centripetal and centrifugal forces are at work in each state and across the region. We are most fortunate that the community of scholars addressing these issues now includes many astute analysts from the region itself. ROGER E. K ANET

Notes on the Contributors Annegret Bendiek (Dr.rer.pol) is Research Associate at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs in Berlin, Germany. Christopher S. Browning is Assistant Professor of International Studies at the University of Warwick, UK. Tom Casier is Assistant Professor and Programme Director of the M.A. European Studies at the University of Maastricht, The Netherlands. Lenard J. Cohen is Professor of International Studies at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Joan DeBardeleben is Professor at the Institute of European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies and Director of the Centre for European Studies at Carleton University in Ottawa, Canada. Stefan Gänzle is Visiting Assistant Professor (DAAD) at the Institute for European Studies and the Department of Political Science at the University of British Columbia (UBC), Canada. Pertti Joenniemi is Senior Research Fellow at the Danish Institute for International Studies (DIIS) in Copenhagen, Denmark. Tetyana Koshmanova is Assistant Professor of the Department of Teaching, Learning and Educational Studies at Western Michigan University, USA. Norma C. Noonan is Professor of Political Science and Director of the M.A. in Leadership Program at Augsburg College in Minneapolis, MN USA. Charles C. Pentland is Professor of Political Studies and Director of the Centre for International Relations at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Helena Rytövuori-Apunen is Senior Research Fellow at the Tampere Peace Research Institute (TAPRI), University of Tampere in Finland. Robert Weiner is Professor of Political Science and Graduate Program Director of International Relations at the McCormack Graduate School of Policy Studies, University of Massachusetts/Boston, USA. Lyubov Zhyznomirska is Doctoral Candidate in the Department of Political Science at the University of Alberta, Canada. xiii

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Introduction Joan DeBardeleben

Following the collapse of the communist system, the European Union (EU) embarked on a bold and ambitious project of enlargement that, by January 2007, would encompass twelve new member states,1 with several others slated for eventual accession.2 Among the goals of this enlargement project has been the assurance of a stable and secure environment for the existing Union; the European leaders supporting the process recognized that a Europe of better-off insiders and poor outsiders could breed division, resentment and international instability. Among the 12 new members are ten post-communist countries of central and eastern Europe. For these countries, which faced many challenges as they embarked on processes of economic and political reform in the l990s, the goal of accession provided not only a direction for change, but also concrete incentives and assistance from the EU in undertaking it. These historic enlargements posed challenges for the EU as well as for acceding states, evidenced by the struggle to adapt internal governance arrangements to the new size of the Union, a process that resulted in the rejection of the proposed constitutional treaty in the French and Dutch referenda in 2005. ‘Enlargement fatigue’ raised doubts about whether additional hopefuls could expect early admission after 2007. Enlargement has reshaped not only the internal contours of the EU, but also has redefined the EU’s external neighbourhood. Countries formerly one step removed from the EU’s external border are now immediate neighbours; five additional European countries now shared a common border with an EU member state – Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova, Serbia, and Croatia. Other neighbours have acquired expanded borders with new member states, including two former communist countries – the Russian Federation and Macedonia,3 along with Turkey. The EU’s 1

2

The Boundaries of EU Enlargement

new external boundary has raised the prospect of altered border regimes, new visa requirements and changed economic relations. In embracing the new member states of central and eastern Europe, the EU hoped to expand the area of stability, security and well-being in Europe. But the move of the EU’s perimeter further eastward brought the EU into direct geographical contact with countries that were considerably less stable (and in most cases poorer) than their former neighbours, which were now member states. The new neighbours are, in many cases, significantly less advanced in their progression toward fulfilling the political and economic criteria that the EU understands to be ‘European’; these include both political standards (democracy, human rights, rule of law, minority protection) as well as economic ones (progress toward a market economy). In 2007, after the January enlargement, Russia seemed to be on a political backslide, deviating from the democratic commitments embarked upon in the l990s, while also becoming increasingly self-assertive in its relations with western partners. Ukraine’s commitment to a European path seemed set after the repeat elections following the Orange Revolution of November 2004, but renewed dissension within the Ukrainian government in early 2007 made the country’s ability to move forward along that trajectory as unclear as ever. The situation in Moldova was also unsettling, with the status of Transnistria still a source of division and instability. Even in the western Balkans, slated for eventual EU membership, significant problems still remained. Croatia has progressed the furthest, now in accession negotiations, with Macedonia also a candidate country. Other countries faced significant challenges. For example, Serbia’s progress was clouded by conflict over Kosovo’s status, and Montenegro was just establishing itself following the successful referendum leading to independence in 2006. Given these complications, a new division in Europe, this time running along the new EU external border in the east, appeared not an unlikely outcome. Even if further enlargements were to occur, they might just push this boundary further to the east or southeast, admittedly farther removed from the historic core of the European Community, but nonetheless within the historic space that had been the scene of so many European conflicts. The possibility of a new ‘curtain’, even if not an ‘iron’ one, is not a happy prospect for the EU, as the continent has only recently emerged from a half century of division. Images to describe the new division range from a relatively permeable ‘lace’ curtain to a more transparent but harder ‘glass’ curtain, or a socio-economic ‘golden’ curtain.

Introduction 3

EU leaders are deeply cognizant of the risk of a new European divide; even before the 2004 enlargement, the European Commission proposed new policies aimed at heading off division, particularly the ‘Wider Europe’ Communication of 2003.4 Following this, the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) was developed as a means to deal with neighbouring countries that did not have prospects for EU membership but could nonetheless be accorded certain benefits of a closer relationship with the Union. The intended result would be to surround the EU with a ‘ring of friends’, thus creating a constructive and stable environment for the enlarged EU to prosper (and possibly grow). The declared objective of the initiative is to share the benefits of the EU’s 2004 enlargement with neighbouring countries – i.e. stability, security and well-being – in a way that is distinct from EU membership. It is designed to prevent the emergence of new dividing lines between the enlarged Union and its neighbours and to offer them an increasingly close relationship with the EU involving a significant degree of economic integration and a deepening of political cooperation.5 Designed to encompass a whole range of countries on the eastern and southern perimeter of the EU’s new external (land and water) borders, the shape of the ENP has had to adapt to changing circumstances as well as to the reactions of the target countries. For example, Russia expressed objections to being given equal status with a whole range of smaller countries, many of which Russia saw as being more legitimately within its own sphere of influence. In response, the EU accorded Russia the status of ‘strategic partner’ outside of the ENP, placing it on an equal international footing with the EU in the relationship, in a category distinct from other neighbouring countries. Ukraine presents a different situation. Over time, Ukraine has become more assertive in pushing its membership aspirations, and thus has found it irritating to be relegated to a status similar to that of such unlikely future members as the north African countries, also included in the ENP. While not explicitly rejecting inclusion in the ENP, Ukraine clearly aspires to more. Belarus poses particular problems because of the authoritarian nature of the regime and the government’s failure to respect basic precepts of the rule of law and human rights. Because of these issues, Belarus is not accorded many of the benefits of the ENP. The EU’s mandate in relation to Belarus is to ‘support the needs of the population and democratization, notably by humanitarian, regional,

4


cross-border cooperation and by projects supporting directly or indirectly democratization and democratic forces in Belarus’.6 Key tools are specified for developing relations with each country involved in the ENP. Through country reports the EU assesses each country’s economic and political situation, as well as possibilities for developing closer relations. An action plan designed specifically for each country provides specific avenues in particular areas for realizing goals set out in a previously-signed Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA). On 1 January 2007, the European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (ENPI) provided a unified basis for providing funds to support projects with ENP countries, as well as Russia. As Russia does not participate in the ENP, a set of additional tools, including Four Common Spaces and Road Maps, were developed. Other countries not immediately proximate to the EU also fall under the ENP, including, among the Soviet successor states, specifically Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan. Furthermore, the ENP includes not only post-communist states of eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, but also Mediterranean countries (Algeria, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Libya, Morocco, Palestinian Authority, Syria and Tunisia), within the framework of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, in which Libya has observer status. The successor states to the former Yugoslavia were excluded from ENP because of their potential EU membership in the future. Instead, the EU has developed a variety of different instruments to assist these countries in their efforts to meet the Copenhagen criteria and thus become eligible for membership. These are carried out within the conduct of the Stabilization and Association Process (SAP), which includes conclusion of Stabilization and Association Agreements (SAA) with individual countries (with Macedonia and Croatia in 2001, with Albania in 2006). SAA negotiations were opened with Bosnia and Herzegovina in November 2005 and with the newly independent Montenegro in September 2006. Negotiations with Serbia and Montenegro (the latter now independent) were initiated in October 2005 but suspended in May 2006 due to Serbia’s failure to cooperate with the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia.

Issues in dealing with the EU’s direct neighbourhood In establishing policy frameworks for dealing with its European neighbours, the EU faces particular challenges. The authors of Chapters 1 and 2 of this volume identify several of these. T. Casier discusses the underlying

Introduction 5

‘enlargement dilemma’, namely the difficulty of defining the limits of enlargement. This question presents a dilemma because application of criteria for enlargement set out by the EU might well lead to a situation in which the EU becomes incapable of digesting the expanded membership. The current deadlock on the proposed constitutional treaty is the tip of the iceberg, since ‘digesting’ the new members has multi-faceted dimensions that go beyond revision of the treaties. These include consequences of new migration patterns, economic demands resulting from enlargement, securing external borders, and building popular identification with the enlarged Union. Casier also points to two paradoxes in the situation. First, the ‘Schengen paradox’ (p. 21) refers to the tendency for deepening of internal integration to make closer relations with neighbours more difficult. For example, as internal borders between EU member states dissolve, external borders become even more important for the security of the Union. Second, the ‘insider/outsider paradox’ (p. 21) refers to the increasing costs, specifically to post-communist states of eastern Europe, of not being a member of the EU as the EU expands. That is, as membership extends to neighbours, the risks and disadvantages of exclusion, isolation and marginalization increase for outsiders. C. Browning and P. Joenniemi, in Chapter 2, analyze further problems with the ENP as a tool for promoting stability beyond the EU’s external border. Among the key weaknesses of the approach is a continued reliance on methods that are more appropriate to acceding states (such as conditionality, discussed below), combined with a discourse of threats. Underlying this contradiction is the ‘integration-security dilemma’ (p. 35), namely the fundamental difficulty in attempting to achieve security through expanding the scope of integration. To do so the EU must either attempt to extend its own governance relations beyond its borders or protect itself from outside intrusions through a ‘fortress Europe’ mentality. Browning and Joenniemi suggest an alternative approach to that embodied by the ENP, one that would look to the principles involved in the Northern Dimension Initiative (NDI), which is modelled around notions of cooperation and inclusiveness, with security conceived as a common and shared goal, rather than as a response to mutual threat. Underlying these dilemmas are three key issues that run through the chapters in this volume. These issues are: first, the underlying principles that govern the EU’s relations with its neighbours; second, the ‘Russian factor’; and, third, the EU’s approach to security. What principles should govern the EU’s relations with its neighbours? A long-standing tool that the EU has used to influence neighbouring states, particularly membership aspirants, is conditionality.

6


Conditionality ties specific rewards to fulfilment of defined conditions; it is closely linked to the EU’s self-definition as a normative actor, i.e., an actor that promotes the dissemination of certain values, notably democratization, human rights, protection of minorities and rule of law.7 M. Vachudova has demonstrated the effectiveness of conditionality in terms of the EU accession countries in the 1990s,8 and other studies also indicate that concrete carrots and sticks work better than moral suasion in encouraging desired political and economic reforms. But can conditionality work effectively to induce desired change in neighbouring countries if the reward of membership is not offered? In the ENP, the EU clearly has not backed off from its use. Applied sometimes in terms of ‘benchmarking’, conditionality was identified as a principle underlying the EU’s Wider Europe policy articulated in 2003, and was undoubtedly an irritant to Russia. The EU policy set out ‘to anchor the EU’s offer of concrete benefits and preferential relations within a differentiated framework which responds to progress made by the partner countries in political and economic reform’. In articulating the ENP, the Commission again emphasized the importance of ‘shared values’, designated to include ‘respect for human dignity, liberty, democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights’. In terms of implementation, the communication stated that ‘the level of the EU’s ambition in developing links with each partner through the ENP will take into account the extent to which common values are effectively shared’.9 The problem with this approach, as several authors in this volume point out, is that, except for the states in the western Balkans, no reward of membership is implied for the European neighbours. In fact, on the contrary, the premise of the ENP is that it applies to countries that are not prospective members. Would the incentives offered by the ENP be adequate to motivate the type of response in the neighbouring countries that the EU is looking for? This raises the question of the suitability of the conditionality approach in general and of the adequacy of the ‘toolbox’ that the EU has assembled to achieve its goal of producing a stable, secure, and friendly neighbourhood environment. An additional concern is whether EU policies may have unintended consequences that may actually be detrimental to efforts to spread European values. A second issue has to do specifically with Russia. In the l990s, suffering from severe economic depression, Russia was the weaker partner in an asymmetrical relationship with the EU and with the West more generally. Russia, sometimes reluctantly, acceded to many requirements set by donor countries or agencies under the principle of conditionality.

Introduction 7

With the economic turn-around beginning in l999 and with Russia’s increasing importance as an energy supplier to Europe, the situation fundamentally changed. Russia became more assertive in its relations with the EU. Thus ‘conditionality’ has largely lost its efficacy or legitimacy in EU relations with Russia. Increasingly, the EU has had to rely on new approaches, embodied in the decision to accord Russia the status of a ‘strategic partner’. In defining the relationship as a ‘strategic partnership’, the EU has responded to Russian objections to the asymmetry discussed above; in such a partnership relationship, it can be expected that negotiation and bargaining, traditional tools of international relations, would override conditionality. Not only does the EU face the challenge of adjusting its Russia policy to new circumstances, but the ‘Russian factor’ also has a significant impact on relations with other neighbours. Most importantly, this applies to Ukraine. Ukraine’s position ‘between Europe and Russia’ is an important and enduring fact that affects both Ukrainian domestic and foreign policies. Because of the historic, often ambivalent, relations between Ukraine and Russia, as well as the deep intertwining of the two cultures and populations, relations with Russia will remain a limiting factor in Ukraine’s relationship with the EU. Europe cannot entirely ignore Russia’s concerns; nor will Ukraine entirely accede to them. While the nature and strength of the ‘Russian factor’ may vary over time, the two issues cannot be effectively disentangled. This does not mean that Ukraine will never be able to join the EU, but rather that if that occurs, that process will impact on the EU’s relations with Russia, and vice versa, in a fundamental way. Likewise, the problem of Transnistria, a break-away region of Moldova with strong Russian ties and a majority of the population being of Russian and Ukrainian ethnicity, creates another critical linkage between the EU’s Russian policy and its relationship with other neighbours. Belarus poses a different situation. Belarus did not ‘stray’ from Russia toward Europe in the period leading up to and following the eastern enlargements of the EU, and in fact a Russian-Belarusian union was under discussion for several years. However, more recently, tensions between Belarus and Russia have emerged. Belarus strongly protested increases in prices of energy imports from Russia; disruption of the transit of Russian oil exports through Belarusian territory to Europe introduced further strains into the relationship in 2007. Those tensions and associated actions impacted European energy consumers, again entangling Europe’s relations with other neighbours with its Russia policy.

8


A third factor affecting the EU in formulating its policies toward the new neighbours has to do with Europe’s own security concerns. While the EU projects itself as a promoter of progressive values in the realm of democratization and human rights, these commitments can at times clash with the search for security. Nowhere is this potential conflict more marked than in addressing external border controls. The EU’s external border serves both as a barrier to perceived and real threats from the outside as well as a point of potential constructive interaction with neighbours. The erection of Schengen borders between the new member states and neighbouring countries poses the dilemma most graphically through its inevitable impact on neighbouring countries. Cross-border ‘shuttle’ trade is disrupted, communities can be ruptured, even families are divided, and, more generally, the socio-economic differentiation between ‘insider’ and ‘outsiders’, neighbours who live just across the border from one another, will likely grow if the goal of EU enlargement, namely to expand the area of European well-being, succeeds. With ‘secure’ borders comes the risk of creating a ‘fortress Europe’ mentality, or at least the perception that one exists. Will the EU, with its border and immigration policies, externalize security threats, preserving the zone of prosperity, freedom and security for its own citizens at the expense of outsiders, even if this is not the intent? One particular feature of the EU’s policies toward neighbours since 2000 is a particular combination of bilateral and multilateral approaches. Neighbouring countries are differentiated by categories, but at the same time relations with ENP countries and with the western Balkan states are essentially bilateral in their particular features. This volume focuses specifically on the EU’s policies in relation to direct neighbours of the post-communist world (thus the exclusion of Turkey from the analysis, which is a direct neighbour as well). The premise underlying this choice is twofold. First, these countries are indisputably European (even as Russia also has an important Asian component). As such, they meet the first criterion for potential EU membership, thus affecting the normative context within which the EU structures its policies. Second, as postcommunist countries they share common transition dilemmas that affect the manner in which they respond to the EU’s overtures; they also share a common history of close relations, which means that the inclusion of some of these countries in the EU while others remain outside has a particularly important impact on social, economic and political relationships that were built up over decades of Soviet dominance. The authors in this volume explore how the EU has structured its relations with its immediate European neighbours, and how its policies

Introduction 9

have responded to the key questions we identify above. Without realistic (or, at least for many western Balkan countries, short-term) prospects of accession, will neighbouring countries accept the EU’s normative model? How does the EU balance its need for security with its desire for good neighbourly relations and for the promotion of European values? Are the policies adequate to avoid the emergence of a new dividing line in Europe, with Russia notably on the other side? The book explores a continuum of categories of countries in this light. First, Russia stands as a case on its own, and as the outlier. Not aspiring to EU membership and a powerful actor in its own right, Russia is in the strongest position to resist EU pressure. Next are those neighbours that are within the ENP, Ukraine and Moldova, both of which, at least in principle, aspire to membership but to which the EU so far has not given a green light to proceed. Both of these countries are, as noted, also significantly impacted by the ‘Russian factor’. The third section of the volume deals with the countries of the western Balkans, where the EU has expressed an intention for eventual accession, but both the timing and the scope of this region’s inclusion in the EU remains undetermined, not only because of problems these countries face in meeting EU conditions, but also because of ‘enlargement fatigue’ and possible limits to the absorption capacity of the EU itself. As one moves through this continuum of types of countries, the leverage that the EU exercises increases because membership (the ultimate ‘carrot’ for meeting conditions set out) becomes more credible.

Countries and regional variations In Part II, the volume explores the EU’s evolving relationship with the Russian Federation. S. Gänzle opens the section by observing the divergent modes of governance characterizing the EU and the Russian Federation. He examines the extent to which the EU has succeeded in externalizing its governance approach into its relations with Russia, focusing on particular areas such as trade, the energy dialogue and security. Gänzle concludes that the EU has largely failed to bring Russia into its governance orbit, in part because Russia has resisted these efforts, seeing them as a form of subordination to the EU’s authority. J. DeBardeleben also analyzes the differing approaches of the EU and Russia to their relationship with one another. Drawing a distinction between value-based policy and interest-based policy, she concludes that the EU has declining leverage as a normative actor in its relations with Russia. Rather, the politics of interest are taking precedence over

10 The Boundaries of EU Enlargement

the politics of values, in large part because Russia is no longer willing to accept the principle of conditionality as the basis of its relationship with EU, but also due to Russia’s stronger economic and geopolitical position since l999. Based on analysis of original public opinion data, she concludes that Russian citizens are likely to accept their leaders’ interest-based approach and that EU criticism of Russia’s failure to meet European expectations in areas such as human rights and democratization are unlikely to trigger public activism such as occurred in Ukraine during the Orange Revolution. H. Rytövuori-Apunen utilizes the notion of regulatory convergence to analyze developments in EU-Russian relations. Like DeBardeleben, she considers it unrealistic to expect Russia to accept the EU’s normative positions and sees efforts to impose value positions on Russia as counterproductive. In her view, diplomatic discourse, which skirts conflicts over value questions, is a normal process, reflecting the effort of actors with differing priorities and value orientations to nonetheless proceed in reaching consensus in order to develop pragmatic responses to common concerns. Looking at many of the same aspects of the EU-Russia relationship as Gänzle (i.e., trade, border issues, energy), RytövuoriApunen makes a case for ‘the potential of communications and “listening” ’ (p. 106) in contributing to the realization of shared interests. Finally, N. Noonan, echoing the attention to Russian national interest present in other chapters, argues that Russia may have more to gain than to lose by staying out of the EU (and NATO). The strategic independence of an ‘outsider’ allows Russia to pursue multiple options as a Eurasian power. The next section of the book focuses on EU relations with two neighbouring countries that are participants in the ENP, Ukraine and Moldova. C. Pentland provides a lucid and detailed account of Ukraine’s experience with the ENP, seeing the EU’s efforts to develop its ‘Ukraine policy’ as a critical dynamic leading to the articulation of ENP. In other words, Ukraine’s situation is a paradigmatic case of the dilemma the EU has faced in trying to fashion a policy for its new European neighbours. Mediating its ‘in between’ position next to both the EU and Russia remains a key dynamic affecting both Ukrainian domestic and foreign policy. Pentland expresses uncertainty about whether, in the aftermath of the Orange Revolution, Ukraine has set a credible European trajectory. He concludes the chapter by referring to the ENP as a ‘ramshackle construct’ (p. 143), marked by its assertion that target countries have no prospect of membership while trying to motivate them to act as if they did. He speculates on the durability of the ENP as a framework for the EU’s eastern policy.

Introduction 11

The two other chapters on Ukraine strike, respectively, a negative and a positive note. L. Zhyznomirska examines the manner in which aspects of the EU’s immigration and asylum policy have affected Ukraine. One impact has been the externalization of the EU’s security concerns regarding immigration into neighbouring countries. Thus a ‘security discourse’ relating to immigration has, in Zhyznomirska’s view, been imported into Ukraine from the EU, involving a preoccupation with ‘control ... , policing, surveillance, and containment’ (p. 147). More generally, some of the EU’s problems in dealing with migration pressures from non-member states beyond its eastern border have been laid at the door of neighbouring countries, presenting them with a burden that they are ill-equipped to handle. The implementation of the Schengen policies by the new member states is a critical element of this process. If one applies Gänzle’s framework to this question, Zhyznomirska seems to be suggesting that aspects of the EU’s governance approach have been effectively externalized through the securitization of migration policy, but that this stands in contradiction to the EU’s efforts to export its normative values. In her chapter, T. Koshmanova provides a more positive example of the externalization of governance in terms of the reach of the Bologna Process in Ukraine. While the Bologna Process is not specifically an EU initiative, it is supported by the EU and, as such, seems a reasonable focus for examining the broader impact of Europeanization efforts in Ukraine. Koshmanova takes a positive view of the impact of Bologna, but also emphasizes the significant obstacles to its integration into Ukrainian practice, due largely to old ways of thinking and entrenched stereotypes. She analyzes reasons why some Ukrainian teachers react to Bologna with scepticism, but also observes that the overriding reception has been positive on the part of educational institutions and educational experts. She herself concludes that the Bologna principles are an important component in developing civic values critical for the democratization process in Ukraine. In the final chapter in this section, R. Weiner examines the unique case of Moldova. Weiner provides a detailed examination of the evolution of Moldovan policies toward Europe and Russia in the previous decade, with particular attention to the Transnistrian problem. He recounts the efforts of the EU to resolve this ‘frozen conflict’, as well as other aspects of Moldova’s participation in the ENP. In particular, he notes difficulties Moldova has had in meeting European standards of liberal democracy and outlines the manner in which Moldova is constrained in its position by actions of Russia as well as neighbouring

12


Ukraine in seeking to influence the outcome of the Transnistrian situation. While Moldova appears to be undertaking an increasingly European orientation in recent years, the complications of its external relations with Russia and the intransigence of the Transnistrian problem seem to belie expectations that Moldova will easily become ‘Europeanized’ or that it will be an early candidate for EU accession. The final section of the volume focuses on the western Balkans. L. Cohen suggests that several of the states in the region are ‘defective democracies’. He notes significant scepticism among European populations regarding the possible admission of these countries to the EU, despite the official EU position that they are all potential members. An underlying problem involves inadequacies in the adoption of democratic norms and processes, many involving deep historical roots, including ethnic nationalism, which underlies a ‘crisis of stateness’ (p. 210). Conditionality and democracy promotion are important tools utilized by the EU to further the rule of law, human rights, and proper treatment of minority groups. Cohen concludes that progress is being made, but slowly. A. Bendiek’s chapter focuses more specifically on the difficult issue of peace consolidation in the western Balkans and the EU’s role in developing an effective security regime in the region. Beginning with the Stability Pact, a strategy adopted in 1999 to achieve conflict prevention in the region, Bendiek dissects the manner in which the EU’s various tools to bolster peaceful resolution of conflicts rely on the fundamental notion of differentiation. Through outward differentiation, the EU has applied a flexible approach to the various countries in the region, also through devolution of certain areas of aid and reconstruction implementation to the national and sub-national levels. Through inward differentiation, various EU member states have taken on lead roles in pushing the EU’s peace consolidation agenda. Finally, in his chapter, C. Pentland examines the operation of the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) in the western Balkans and gives the EU a positive evaluation for setting modest goals that have met with considerable success. The remaining weak point in bringing the western Balkan countries on a European trajectory is Serbia and the associated problem of Kosovo. Pentland sees an important continuing role for the ESDP in the region.

Conclusion: A way forward? Several authors of this volume express considerable scepticism about the adequacy of the ENP as a basis for the EU’s continuing relations

Introduction 13

with its European neighbours. The policy has already been rejected as the basis of relations with Russia; regarding other countries, its central flaw seems to be the contradiction between its basic premise that target countries will not become members and its continuing reliance on conditionality. Some authors in this volume point at alternative approaches. Browning and Joenniemi suggest looking to precepts of the NDI as a possible model, a conclusion apparently consistent with RytövuoriApunen’s analysis as well. Zhyznomirska calls for approaches that involve ‘joint ownership’ (p. 160), a principle of the NDI. One might also ask, could the positive Finnish experience with Russia, developed over years and adapted after Finland’s EU accession, be applied to other European neighbours of the EU? The NDI suggests another tried-and-true approach in Europe, namely variable integration. While countries like Russia may be outside of the EU and NATO, they are inside several other European institutions, including the NDI, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the Council of Baltic Sea States (CBSS), and the Council of Europe; the same applies to other countries discussed in this book, although the specific organizational affiliations vary. Organizations that generate a sense of ‘joint ownership’ may be particularly appropriate to produce commitment and common purpose for those outside of the EU. Another issue concerns the suitability of conditionality as a continuing tool for managing neighbourhood relations. Research indicates that conditionality is effective with prospective member states. The western Balkan experience offers a ‘strong’ case to test the proposition because of the apparently intractable nature of some of the ethnic conflicts in the region. Progress thus far offers provisional support for the utility of conditionality, even under these difficult circumstances. No doubt, in some cases countries will not bow to incentives offered by the EU; Serbia’s position on several issues, including Kosovo, may prove to be such a case. But these instances appear to be exceptions. It is a different question, however whether the EU can effectively apply conditionality in relations with countries that are not at least ‘potential members’? And without conditionality can the EU find other ways to project its normative authority? Here the example of the relationship with Russia may be instructive. While steering away from conditionality in important parts of its relationship with Russia, EU leaders and institutions, along with the Council of Europe, have continued to articulate criticisms of Russian human rights violations and perceived deviations from democratic practices. The efficacy of these declarations

14


seems somewhat doubtful and has often elicited charges of hypocrisy directed at the EU by Russian leaders. Leading by example may be the best way for the EU to pursue its normative agenda, an approach that the Union has applied assertively and persuasively in areas like climate change policy; indeed, the very process of sharing prosperity through enlargement is itself a strong and bold normative statement. This, of course, brings us squarely back to the dilemma that Casier identifies at the outset. If enlargement is one of the EU’s strongest normative statements, then will limiting future enlargements undermine the EU’s normative authority with European neighbours who want in but are kept out? One way to respond would be to try to address the paradoxes that Casier points to. The Schengen dilemma is a difficult one to resolve, and it relates closely to the issues that Zhyznomirska addresses in her chapter. EU efforts to support crossborder initiatives seem a good step to ameliorate the local difficulties created by Schengen borders. Russia proposes visa-free travel as another response to the problem; visa facilitation seems a more likely outcome. The social construction of the situation may also be as important as the policies themselves; here the EU might consider how to de-securitize the discourse about the subject. A response to the second ‘insider-outsider paradox’ calls for measures to limit the costs of exclusion. The ENP does try to do this by offering benefits to neighbours but short of membership. Another approach would be for the EU to encourage other forms of regional cooperation between neighbouring non-member states. This approach could contribute to the emergence of a bi-polar or multi-polar Europe, with one pole undoubtedly centred around Russia. While this might be seen as a risk to the EU’s dominant role on the continent, it may be a necessary corollary of the need to restrict the scope of the enlargement process. The EU’s current bilateral approach suggests a world in which all roads lead to Brussels. A bi- or multi-polar Europe with variable integration could, in the long run, be another vision of stability.

Notes 1. In May 2004 the Czech Republic, Cyprus, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Poland, Slovakia and Slovenia were admitted; in January 2007 Bulgaria and Romania were admitted. 2. The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM) was given candidate status in December 2005, and Croatia began accession negotiations (along with Turkey) in October 2005. The EU describes other states of the western Balkans (Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, and Serbia) as potential members.

Introduction 15 3. The term ‘Macedonia’ in this chapter refers to the FYROM. 4. Commission of the European Communities, ‘Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament. Wider Europe – Neighbourhood: A New Framework for Relations with Our Eastern and Southern Neighbours’. Brussels, 11 March 2003. COM(2003) 104 final, http:// ec.europa.eu/world/enp/pdf/com03_104_en.pdf (Accessed 21 April 2007). 5. Website of the European Union, http://ec.europa.eu/comm/external_ relations/ceeca/news/ip04_848.htm (Accessed 20 April 2007). 6. Website of the European Union, http://ec.europa.eu/comm/external_relations/ belarus/csp/index.htm (Accessed 20 April 2007). 7. Commission of the European Communities, Communication. ... Wider Europe – Neighbourhood Wider Europe, pp. 4, 16. 8. M. A. Vachudova, Europe Undivided: Democracy, Leverage, and Integration after Communism (Oxford University Press, 2005). 9. Commission of the European Communities. Communication from the Commission. European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper. Brussels, 12 May 2004. COM(2004) 373 final, pp. 12–13.


Part I EU Enlargement and the New Neighbours


1 The New Neighbours of the European Union: The Compelling Logic of Enlargement? Tom Casier

Introduction Whereas European integration started off as a limited project confined to six countries in western Europe, the European Union (EU) today covers most of western and central Europe. The EU is no doubt a giant, impacting on the politics and economies of its direct neighbours. At least by its sheer economic weight and the impact of its trade activities the EU casts a shadow on the countries in its geographic proximity. But with the great enlargement of 2004, the accession of Romania and Bulgaria in 2007, the candidate status of Croatia, Turkey and the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia and a growing negative public attitude toward enlargement, this neighbourhood increasingly appears to pose a fundamental problem for the EU: how should the EU proceed to involve its new neighbours more closely into the European integration process without opening the doors for future membership? The EU is confronted with an ‘enlargement dilemma’. On one hand, as an international community defending liberal and democratic values and committed to stability in Europe the EU has few ‘moral’ arguments to refuse membership to neighbouring countries who respect its founding principles. On the other hand, since the EU is still ‘digesting’ the 2004 enlargement there is a growing feeling that the enlargement process should somehow be confined in space. In order to escape from this dilemma the EU developed a European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP). This is a specific, geography-based form of European foreign policy which aims at creating privileged and differentiated relations with the states surrounding the enlarged Union. The objective of this policy is to create stability1 (‘a ring of friends’2) around the EU by offering the new neighbouring states the opportunity to share the benefits of European 19

20


integration without offering them the prospect of accession. The ENP is an attempt to escape the dilemma of either enlarging without confines or abruptly stopping enlargement, thus withholding from some European states the fruits of the integration process. If the ENP is successful, the pressure on the EU for further enlargement is expected to diminish. Presented in this way, this policy reflects a rationalist approach in which the EU as a rational actor calculates utility and tries to maximize its benefits. One could wonder whether the ENP will follow this rational course. Some authors such as F. Schimmelfennig3 describe the process of enlargement as a function of a compelling logic rather than pure rational interest formation. As the ENP is based largely on similar principles of conditionality as the enlargement process, this chapter investigates the hypothesis that the ENP toward its eastern European target countries might create a comparable compelling logic eventually making it very hard for the EU to refuse membership to those states who have successfully fulfilled the conditions. This hypothesis is founded on the assumption that a similar logic based on conditionality underlies both enlargement policy and the ENP. Moreover, this chapter argues that enlargement as such has created fundamental paradoxes in wider Europe which make it very hard to resist the pressure to further enlarge eastwards if the EU wants to remain loyal to its most fundamental values and commitments. Enlargement has produced certain external effects that seem to run counter to the EU’s founding principles. These adverse effects of enlargement for the new neighbours will give extra weight to the ‘moral’ sense of duty of the EU to put the door ajar for neighbouring countries who successfully respect the Union’s founding principles. The analysis in this chapter is based on a study of the ENP toward eastern Europe, using Ukraine as an example. Whether the conclusions could apply to ENP as a whole awaits further research.

The paradoxes of enlargement: Impact on new neighbours Intergovernmental organizations, especially when they embody a high degree of integration, are not the pure outcome of the convergence of national preferences. To a greater or lesser extent they form communities in which an identity, ideas, meanings and values are shared and produced through interaction. As such, the EU can be regarded as an international community of democratic-liberal states.4 Even if bargaining and national interests may have a high impact on the day-to-day decisionmaking process, the EU remains a community of states based on a shared commitment. Most basically, the states have committed themselves to

The New Neighbours of the European Union

21

democracy and liberal values and, as a founding commitment, to stability and structural peace in Europe. Here precisely appears the ambiguity of enlargement. The expansion of the EU has made the sharing of these values and the extension of stability to the whole of Europe more difficult. Enlargement is characterized by two fundamental paradoxes. The first paradox, the Schengen paradox,5 is intrinsic to the deepening of integration: more integration inside the EU makes a close involvement of third countries more difficult. The disappearance of internal borders inevitably means that external borders are reinforced and obstacles are placed between the EU and third countries. This is particularly clear in the case of free movement of persons. As internal borders disappear and free movement within the passport-free Schengen zone becomes easier, the external borders are reinforced, better secured and harder to cross. The accession states had to integrate the Schengen acquis into their legislation. Countries like Poland, for example, had to impose a visa obligation for Ukrainians travelling to its territory, whereas in the past the latter could cross the border without many formalities. The consequences of the extension of the EU’s visa regime to the new member states’ eastern borders are considerable. It is estimated that around 30 million people cross the Polish eastern border yearly.6 Many Ukrainians travelled to Poland for tourism, studying, small scale trade. It is estimated that ‘Poland generates a trade surplus of around $1.5 billion from its unofficial border trade with Ukraine every year’.7 As a result of enlargement and the consecutive introduction of a visa requirement the number of border crossings is due to diminish drastically. A second paradox, the insider/outsider paradox, is related to the eastern enlargement specifically. With the accession of ten new member states, it becomes more and more problematic not to be part of the Union. The outsider states inevitably undergo profound effects of European integration.8 As the EU grows larger, their alternatives diminish and it becomes harder (or more costly) to escape the impact of the EU. There are fewer non-EU countries in the immediate neighbourhood to trade with or to travel to without visa. With an EU of 25, 27 or 28 members, neighbouring countries have little choice but to orient their export toward the EU. New tariffs apply to trade with countries that have recently joined the EU, which may have serious consequences in some sectors. Moreover, the effects will be far-reaching simply because third countries will have little choice but to accept the standards that the EU has set. If a company wishes to export manufactured goods to the EU, it will have to respect the technical, safety and environmental standards of the EU. If the country at stake is quite dependent on

22


exports, EU standards may well become the norm for its domestic economy as well.

The EU’s answer: The ENP Enlargement thus produces side-effects for the ‘other’ European states that run against the basic and founding commitments of the Union. These effects may be largely unintended, the result of a pure proximity effect of the EU on its immediate environment. Yet their impact is no less real. If enlargement comes to a halt, the risk is real that new dividing lines will be created–dividing lines between a more and a less affluent Europe, between a more and a less stable Europe, between a Europe where free movement is possible and one where it is restricted. Such new divides not only violate the EU’s fundamental values but also threaten its crucial interest in stability on its eastern borders, not least in view of associated trade and investment opportunities. The EU is very conscious of the paradoxes that enlargement has created. Driven by fears of instability around the enlarged EU and by the danger of new dividing lines in Europe it has developed its own specific, differentiated policy oriented toward its new neighbours around the Mediterranean and in eastern Europe. The first step was the launch of the Wider Europe/New Neighbours initiative in May 2002. This initiative was the first stage in the development of a more coherent policy baptized ‘European Neighbourhood Policy’ in the European Commission’s Strategy Paper of May 2004.9 The policy is an attempt to develop a privileged relationship with neighbouring states without offering them the prospect of membership. The objective of the ENP is to share the benefits of the EU’s 2004 enlargement with neighbouring countries in strengthening stability, security and well-being for all concerned. It is designed to prevent the emergence of new dividing lines between the enlarged EU and its neighbours and to offer neighbours the chance to participate in various EU activities through greater political, security, economic and cultural cooperation.10 The ENP will build on ‘mutual commitment to common values’ and depart from a ‘common set of principles’ but will differentiate among the partner countries.11 ‘Country Reports’ prepared by the European Commission assess the political, institutional and economic situation in a country. At the next stage, tailor-made ENP ‘Action Plans’ are set up for each country.12 They outline the priorities and serve as a point of reference for the next three to five years. The Action Plans are proposed by the European Commission and negotiated with the target country,


23

thus adding an element of bilateralism to the process. They define an agenda of political, social and economic reforms in the target country and provide incentives in case of successful implementation (e.g., better access to the internal market, increased assistance, participation in European programmes). Progress in implementing the reforms is monitored by periodic reports. According to the Commission Strategy Paper on the ENP, the process could lead to the negotiation of European Neighbourhood Agreements, replacing the current generation of bilateral agreements.13 Assistance will be provided by a new European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (ENPI).14 As of 2007 the ENPI will replace, as a single instrument, existing assistance programmes such as TACIS. The ENP covers both eastern and southern neighbours of the EU. It also is aimed at countries around the Mediterranean: Algeria, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Libya, Morocco, Syria and Tunisia, as well as the Palestinian Authority. Libya will join upon acceptance of the Barcelona acquis. In the case of Syria the ENP can only be activated upon the ratification of the Association Agreement. In eastern Europe the ENP covers Ukraine and Moldova. Belarus will only benefit from the ENP once it has established a democratic form of government. In 2004 three countries from the southern Caucasus – Armenia, Georgia and Azerbaijan – were added. The Balkan states are not included because it is likely they will become members of the EU at some point in the future. It is interesting to note that – in contrast to earlier blueprints on Wider Europe – Russia is not formally included. Moscow has always been lukewarm to the Wider Europe initiative, which it considered to be too much of a one-way street, primarily reflecting the interests of the EU rather than mutual interests. The Russian Federation is therefore granted a special status as ‘key partner of the EU’.15 The Strategy Paper recognizes that ‘Russia and the enlarged European Union form part of each other’s neighbourhood’,16 thus acknowledging the equivalence of both. By recognizing explicitly that the EU and Russia belong to each other’s neighbourhood, Russia is recognized as a fully equal partner of the EU.17 Instead of including Russia into the ENP, the EU and Russia decided to further develop mutual cooperation in the framework of four ‘Common Spaces’.18

The nature of the ENP The main strategic objective of the ENP is to replace ‘an arc of instability’ by a ‘ring of friends’.19 Its aim is to avoid both instability on the EU’s


borders and new forms of polarization. No doubt there are also hidden strategic objectives. The ENP is a way to create new opportunities for trade and investment. What are the main characteristics of the EU’s proximity policy that set it apart from other forms of foreign policy and from the process of integration as such? First of all, the ENP is a prototypical example of structural foreign policy.20 In contrast to traditional foreign policy, structural foreign policy proactively shapes its external environment. Its aim is to create a favourable or stable external environment by – in the words of G. J. Ikenberry – socializing third countries by stimulating common values and cooperation.21 In contrast to a traditional possession-goals oriented foreign policy, the time frame is long-term. The EU, in other words, shapes its immediate external environment in its own image. It is an explicit attempt to structure the immediate neighbourhood along the dominant principles and norms of the EU. The goal is to involve the new neighbours in a selected number of policy areas, thus socializing them in the longer term into an extended form of European cooperation. Secondly, the ENP as a differentiated policy approaches countries in very different ways.22 The extension of certain forms of EU cooperation across the border in a differentiated way is nothing new.23 The European Economic Area, for example, extends most of the Single European Market to third countries without the other benefits and duties of membership. In the same way the Schengen zone includes non-EU members Norway and Iceland. A customs union involving Turkey was already provided for in the Association Agreement of 1963 but was only established in 1996. There has thus been a long tradition of associating countries closely to the European integration process. Often these countries are linked to EU cooperation through agreements, financial aid and the awarding of all sorts of benefits such as preferential trade tariffs or the granting of market economy status. A multi-speed Europe exceeding the borders of the EU has thus been a reality for a long time. What is a major innovation, though, is that the ‘one size fits all’ approach in which a similar policy was developed for a whole area (e.g., the central and eastern European candidate member states) has been replaced by a tailor-made approach. This is not surprising considering the high diversity of the countries involved, specifically in terms of size, economic strength, political systems and culture. Understandably, one approaches Ukraine in a different way than Syria, Israel or Morocco. Thirdly, the ENP is characterized by a low level of institutionalization. In the words of former President of the European Commission Romano


25

Prodi, the new neighbours would ‘share everything but the institutions’.24 The proximity policy and the priorities laid down in the different Action Plans are developed by the EU in dialogue with the neighbour state but generally try to avoid the establishment of new institutions. Fourthly, the ENP is in essence an EU-centric policy. It reflects the norms and values of the EU and aims at exporting them to third countries. This appears clearly from the European Neighbourhood mechanisms, which mainly involve conditional financial assistance and regular country reports. The latter aim at monitoring progress in bilateral relations and the evolution of the political, economic and social situation of the country involved. Finally, the ENP is a dynamic policy. It provides a flexible framework for developing privileged relations with the new neighbours. Not only will the policy be different from country to country; it will also evolve over time. As countries become more successful in fulfilling the conditions imposed on them by the EU, the policy will further develop and change its form. It is important for our hypothesis that the mechanism underlying enlargement and the ENP are basically the same. In both cases the EU tries to steer reforms in third countries by imposing certain conditions on them and rewarding (or punishing) them if the conditions are (not) fulfilled. This instrument of ‘conditionality’25 is at the heart of the EU’s structural foreign policy. It is a cornerstone of many agreements the EU concludes with third countries not only in the form of clauses on democratization or respect of human rights but also on economic reforms. The basic framework of conditionality in the enlargement process is formed by the Copenhagen criteria on which accession to the EU was dependent. Whereas the mechanism behind the ENP and enlargement is in essence the same, the final outcome or reward is different. In the case of enlargement membership awaits the good pupils. In the case of the ENP the reward is much vaguer: countries will be more closely connected to the European integration process but will not enjoy the full benefits of membership.

The ENP: A solution to the paradoxes of enlargement? If the ENP is an attempt to escape from the enlargement dilemma, to what extent can we expect it to be successful? In other words, will the ENP be able to both create stability around the EU and solve the


paradoxes of enlargement? What are the chances of ENP conditionality being successful? As F. Schimmelfennig and U. Sedelmeier suggest, the success of ‘rule transfer’ (‘the adoption of EU rules in non-member states, i.e., their institutionalisation at the domestic level’26) is determined mainly by the external incentives given by the EU. The instrument of conditionality is a way of providing external incentives for complying with EU norms. According to the ‘external incentives model’ of Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier, ‘a state adopts EU rules if the benefits of EU rewards exceed the domestic adoption costs’.27 Whether this is the case will depend on different factors such as the determinacy of the conditions, the size and speed of the rewards offered, the credibility of conditionality, the domestic adoption costs and the role of domestic veto players.28 Since enlargement and the ENP are based on the same instrument of conditionality, this model can also be used for the latter. Five elements taken from the study of Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier29 are of crucial importance to evaluate whether the ENP has good chances to be successful and may form a viable alternative to enlargement. The case of Ukraine, as the major eastern neighbour of the ENP framework, will serve as an example in our evaluation. First, the credibility of the conditionality is important in order for the ENP to be successful. In particular, the EU has to be credible in its promise to deliver the reward. Prodi put the stakes very high, promising the new neighbours that they would share ‘everything but the institutions’.30 Not only does this statement suffer from vagueness; it is also not very credible. There are several contentious issues where it remains very uncertain whether the EU will be willing to share all benefits. Visa-free travel is a case in point, and such a crucial one that Ukraine likely would be willing to make quite some concessions to achieve it. However, recent developments such as the failed constitutional referenda in France and the Netherlands suggest that a cautious European public may be less receptive to such a bold opening of the EU’s eastern border. Secondly, the size of the reward matters. Since the ENP does not offer the prospect of membership, it is doubtful whether the reward is sufficient to motivate major reforms. ‘Whereas in the case of the CEE countries the conditionality approach acted as a leverage also for unpopular adaptations, the lack of membership prospects [ ... ] poses serious limits to external governance’.31 Especially when it comes to political conditionality, where domestic adoption costs tend to be high, the reward of establishing only ‘privileged relations’ may be insufficient.


27

Thirdly, the timeframe is determining. If the speed with which rewards are offered is too slow, conditionality will lose its effectiveness. The ENP as a form of structural policy is per definition long-term. Moreover, in the aftermath of the 2004 and 2007 enlargements both the European public and politicians may require a breathing space before future expansions are considered feasible. This time lag has additional implications. Governments currently in power in the ENP target country are expected to respond to the EU’s expectations by delivering reforms now, while rewards may be reaped by only future governments. This reduces the incentives to respond to the EU’s conditionality requirements. Fourthly, the domestic adoption costs – especially in the case of political conditionality – have a huge impact on the chances of success. These costs are not only related to institutional adaptation, but also involve opportunity costs and the division of power in the target country. In the case of Ukraine, for example, the domestic adoption costs seemed to have decreased considerably right after the Orange Revolution, bringing a more reformoriented government to power. However, with the return of Viktor Yanukovych to power, appointed as Prime Minister on 4 August 2006, it remains doubtful whether domestic adoption costs have actually changed. Finally, the ENP is expected to be successful only if no similar rewards are available from other sources at lower costs.32 Despite trade interdependence with the EU some ENP target countries do have other options because the eastern geographic area of the ENP overlaps with the Near Abroad of the Russian Federation. Kyiv, for example, remains highly dependent on Russia (inter alia for its energy) and has no other choice but to look both to Moscow and Brussels. Whatever government is in power this double dependency will remain unchanged. Thus the ENP’s success will be fundamentally linked to the development of EU–Russia relations.33 Additionally, alternative integration processes might affect the chances of success for the ENP, although it is unlikely they will be determinant. The Commonwealth of Independent States is a weaker form of integration based mainly on bilateral relations with Moscow. Other integration processes such as GUAM (the regional group of Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova) or the Black Sea Cooperation are also incapable of delivering the same rewards as an economic giant like the EU.

An unexpected outcome? ENP and the ‘logic of appropriateness’ In his study of enlargement Schimmelfennig states that liberal intergovernmental theories of European integration cannot sufficiently explain

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the decision of the EU-15 to enlarge.34 Liberal intergovernmentalism, most famously articulated by A. Moravcsik,35 regards the convergence of national preferences between member states as a crucial condition to move forward in the process of interstate bargaining. At the onset of the enlargement process, however, this convergence of national preferences was not present. Schimmelfennig explains the change of attitude of certain member states and the growth of consensus about enlarging the EU from a constructivist point of view. He argues that reluctant states developed a more positive stance toward enlargement because they wanted to conform to the values and identity of the international community (i.e., liberal norms, democracy and stability). The decision to proceed with enlargement was thus not so much the result of national preferences but of a ‘logic of appropriateness’:36 states felt compelled to be respectful to the norms and values they claimed to represent. Once the states of central and eastern Europe had left communism behind and had successfully embarked on the road of democratization and market reforms, the EU saw it as a moral duty to extend the stability created by European integration to these neighbouring countries. The commitments that member states made, for example, by publicly supporting reforms in the candidate countries ‘rhetorically entrapped’37 them and committed them to the principle to enlargement. Moving beyond Schimmelfennig this chapter argues that the ENP is likely to trigger off a new compelling logic of appropriateness, at least in the case of east European neighbours who have made accession to the EU a strategic priority and successfully carry out democratic and economic reforms. This ‘compelling logic’ is the result of the combination of several factors: the paradoxes created by enlargement and the limited chances of the ENP to form a viable alternative to enlargement; the logic inherent to the mechanism of conditionality; and the condition/ reward ratio of the ENP specifically. First of all, the paradoxes of enlargement (the Schengen and the insider/ outsider paradoxes) reinforce the logic of appropriateness. If the external effects of enlargements produce outcomes running against the fundamental principles of European integration, it becomes the moral duty of the member states to take away these negative effects. In case the ENP does not succeed in resolving the paradoxes created by the 2004 enlargement, opening the door for new accessions might prove to be the only solution. Second, the mechanism of conditionality itself creates a compelling logic. It sets in motion a process that potentially leads to an outcome on which there is currently no consensus among member states. As ENP


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target countries fulfil more and more conditions, expectations over enlargement will rise up to the point where opening the door for accession may appear as the next logical step and the appropriate thing to do. Third, the compelling logic of conditionality may be even stronger in the case of the ENP. The highest reward a target country of the ENP may receive is to ‘share everything but the institutions’. The conditions to be fulfilled in order to achieve this highest reward will no doubt be very demanding and will likely approach the Copenhagen criteria. This implies that the condition/reward ratio will likely be higher than in the case of enlargement: to achieve lower benefits (as membership is in principle excluded), similar conditions will have to be fulfilled. In combination with a failure to solve the paradoxes of enlargement it will thus become very hard in the longer term to refuse membership to other (European) countries who successfully fulfill the criteria. Again, moral arguments might compel member states to leave the door ajar for accession. This will be particularly true because the ENP will increase the EU’s profile as an international actor and thus its responsibility for creating stability in its neighbourhood.38 Crises in neighbouring states might function as a trigger for increased enlargement pressure. This may be illustrated in the case of Ukraine. Before the Orange Revolution the EU explicitly kept the door closed to Ukraine. Günter Verheugen, Commissioner in charge of enlargement in the Prodi Commission, explicitly stated: ‘Membership perspectives are not on the table. Full stop’.39 During the events of December 2004, when the EU played a prominent role in solving the crisis in Kyiv, the tone changed. External Relations Commissioner Benita Ferrero-Waldner, supporting the reformist course of Viktor Yushchenko, left the door ajar for a potential membership of Ukraine at some point when she stated: ‘The question of Ukrainian entry into the EU is not on the agenda. But it is clear that we are not closing any doors’.40

Conclusion The whole European integration project, including enlargement processes, has been built on the premise that integration would lead to structural peace and stability. The European Council of Copenhagen in 1993 very explicitly chose to export stability and security to central and eastern Europe by offering the former communist satellite states the prospect of membership. This prospect was made dependent on clear conditions – the Copenhagen criteria. The ENP, however, explicitly rules out membership. This is a break with the past. The ENP is an attempt to export stability and


security in a new way rather than create it by expansion. The EU no longer waves a ticket to enter the club in order to convince third countries to carry out reforms but tries to involve neighbours through new forms of cooperation and partial integration. The EU wants to escape from the dilemma between eternally enlarging the Union, on one hand, and establishing a new wall between an integrated, stable and affluent Europe and a non-integrated, unstable and much poorer Europe, on the other. This chapter has raised doubts about the chances of the successful transition from a strategy of expanding stability to a strategy of exporting it. Because of the policy’s ‘moral’ justification it is unlikely that the ENP will solve the paradoxes created by enlargement. Indeed, the ENP may trigger a new compelling logic pushing the EU toward a new round of enlargement. The policy has created hopes and expectations in the new neighbour countries. By imposing tough requirements as conditions for sharing the benefits of European integration the EU may be incurring an obligation if these states successfully fulfil the conditions. As reforms in target countries proceed and as international pressure on the EU to take up its responsibility as an international actor rises, the EU might be drawn into an escalation of commitments. In this case the ENP may simply create some breathing space and provide a test lab for current or future candidate states before the next round of enlargement unfolds.

Notes 1. Creating stability around the EU is also one of the core objectives of the European Security Strategy. See European Council, A Secure Europe in a Better World. European Security Strategy, 2003, http://ue.eu.int/uedocs/cmsUpload/78367.pdf, (Accessed 9 January 2006). 2. R. Prodi, ‘A Wider Europe – A Proximity Policy as the Key to Stability’, speech at the Sixth ECSA-World Conference, 5–6 December 2002, http://europa.eu/ rapid/pressReleasesAction.do?reference=SPEECH/02/619&format=HTML&ag ed=1&language=EN&guiLanguage=en, (Accessed 1 September 2006). 3. F. Schimmelfennig, ‘The Community Trap: Liberal Norms, Rhetorical Action, and the Eastern Enlargement of the European Union’, International Organization, 55:1 (2001) pp. 47–80. 4. F. Mayer, and J. Palmowksi, ‘European Identities and the EU – The Ties that Bind the Peoples of Europe’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 42:3 (2004) pp. 573–98; Schimmelfennig, ‘The Community Trap’. 5. T. Casier, ‘The EU’s Proximity Policy and Governance beyond the Borders’, paper presented at the ECPR conference in Bolgona, June 2004, www.jhubc. it/ecpr-bologna/docs/299.pdf, (Accessed 9 January 2006). 6. J. Batt, The EU’s New Borderlands. Working Paper (London: Centre for European Reform, 2003), p. 12.


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7. Batt, The EU’s New Borderlands, pp. 14–15. 8. On ‘external governance’ see, for example, L. Friiss and A. Murphy, ‘The European Union and Central and Eastern Europe: Governance and Boundaries’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 37:2 (1999) pp. 211–32 and S. Lavenex, ‘EU External Governance in “Wider Europe” ’, Journal of European Public Policy, 11:4 (2004) pp. 680–700. 9. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper. Brussels, 12 May 2004. COM(2004) 373 final. 10. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper, p. 3. 11. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper, p. 3. 12. As of September 2006 Action Plans have been adopted for seven countries: Israel, Jordan, Moldova, Morocco, Tunisia, Ukraine and the Palestinian Authority. 13. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper. 14. European Commission, Paving the way for a New Neighbourhood Instrument. Brussels, 1 June 2003. COM(2003) 393 final. 15. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper, p. 4. 16. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper, p. 6. 17. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper, p. 4. This follows the line of the medium-term strategy on relations with Europe as presented by the Russian government in 1999. This document proposes a strategic partnership between the EU and Russia, which is a leading force in the CIS countries surrounding it. See Russian Government, Medium-term Strategy for Development of Relations between the Russian Federation and the European Union (2000–2010), October 1999, http://www.delrus.ec.europa. eu/en/p_245.htm, (Accessed 1 September 2006). 18. In St. Petersburg in 2003 Russia and the EU agreed to establish the following Common Spaces: a common economic space; a common space of freedom, security and justice; cooperation in the field of research and education; and cooperation in the field of external security. In May 2005 the Road Maps for the four Common Spaces were adopted at the EU–Russia summit in Moscow. 19. Prodi, ‘A Wider Europe’. 20. S. Keukeleire, Het Buitenlands Beleid van de Europese Unie [The Foreign Policy of the European Union] (Deventer: Kluwer, 1998), p. 169; K. Smith, ‘The European Union: A Distinctive Actor in International Relations’, The Brown Journal of World Affairs, 9:2 (2003) p. 107. 21. G. J. Ikenberry, quoted in Keukeleire, Het Buitenlands Beleid, p. 170. 22. M. Emerson describes this highly complex policy as ‘a matrix’. See M. Emerson, The Wider Europe Matrix (Brussels: CEPS, 2004), p. 5. 23. Lavenex, ‘EU External Governance in “Wider Europe” ’, p. 683. 24. Prodi, ‘A Wider Europe’. 25. K. Smith, European Union Foreign Policy in a Changing World (Cambridge: Polity, 2003). 26. F. Schimmelfennig and U. Sedelmeier, ‘Governance by Conditionality: EU Rule Transfer to the Candidate Countries of Central and Eastern Europe’, Journal of European Public Policy, 11:4 (2004) p. 662. 27. Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier, ‘Governance by Conditionality’, p. 664. 28. Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier, ‘Governance by Conditionality’, pp. 664–7. Several elements from the study by Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier are


29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

36. 37. 38.

39. 40.

mentioned in other publications as well. See in particular H. Grabbe, ‘How does Europeanization affect CEE Governance? Conditionality, Diffusion and Diversity’, Journal of European Public Policy, 8:6 (2001) pp. 1013–31. Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier, ‘Governance by Conditionality’. Prodi, ‘A Wider Europe’. Lavenex, ‘EU External Governance in “Wider Europe” ’, p. 694. Grabbe, ‘How does Europeanization affect CEE Governance?’, p. 1014 and 1025. R. Aliboni, ‘The Geopolitical Implications of the European Neighbourhood Policy’, European Foreign Affairs Review, 10 (2005) p. 14. Schimmelfennig, ‘The Community Trap’. A. Moravcsik, ‘Negotiating the Single European Act: National Interests and Conventional Statecraft in the European Community’, in B. F. Nelsen and A. Stubb, eds, The European Union. Readings on the theory and practice of European integration (Hampshire: Palgrave, 1998), pp. 217–40. Schimmelfennig, ‘The Community Trap’, p. 58. Schimmelfennig, ‘The Community Trap’, p. 48. R. Aliboni, ‘The Geopolitical Implications of the European Neighbourhood Policy’, p. 13; European Council, A Secure Europe in a Better World. European Security Strategy. G. Verheugen quoted in M. Emerson, ‘EU Neighbourhood Policy “Too Low Gear” ’, European Voice, 10:19 (2004) p. 15. B. Ferrero-Waldner, ‘Situation in Ukraine’, speech at the Plenary Session of the European Parliament, 1 December 2004, http://ec.europa.eu/comm/ external_relations/news/ferrero/2004/speech04_506_en.htm, (Accessed 1 September 2006).

2 The European Neighbourhood Policy and Why the Northern Dimension Matters Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi1

Introduction In the build up to the 2004 enlargement of the European Union (EU) debates about the nature and extent of (EU) Europe became widespread. Questions as to whether the 2004 enlargement would be the last major expansion of the EU were hotly debated, and the different candidate countries made great efforts to ensure they did not miss the departing boat toward membership. Within the EU, concerns about the enlargement focused on issues such as the need to avoid any dilution of the significant gains of the European project, as well as fears that the EU’s expansion to 25 members would turn the Union into a bureaucratic dinosaur and further undermine its democratic legitimacy. In this context, a desire to draw the final borders of (EU) Europe has become pronounced, with the perceived threat being that unchecked expansion will not only make the Union unworkable, but may actually pose an existential threat to it. Although it is clear that much disagreement exists on where the final borders of (EU) Europe should be drawn (e.g., should Turkey be in or out), the belief that Europe’s finalité should soon be decided has become widely held. Importantly, the issue of borders is also linked to questions of security. Central here is the fact that the EU has explicitly used the promise of future membership in order to promote stability along its borders. Drawing ‘final’ borders therefore poses the EU with a dilemma of how it will promote stability and security in its neighbouring regions if the carrot of enlargement is no longer available. The EU’s current answer to these issues of where to draw the final borders of the Union and how to 33

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promote security and stability beyond those borders has been presented in its developing European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP). The EU’s optimism that this policy framework can achieve these goals is evident in the policy’s proclaimed ambition that the neighbouring countries – once they come to reflect the EU’s own set of values – will constitute a benevolent and stable ‘ring of friends’.2 In this context, this chapter addresses three issues. First, it challenges the view that the ENP will, as a projection of an ‘ideal’ EU, solve the Union’s security concerns regarding its external borders. In this respect, despite proclamations to the contrary, we argue that the ENP fails to extricate the EU from a logic that links external security with the need for further integration of outsiders. One reason for this is the fact that the ENP remains premised on the mechanism of conditionality. Another, however, is that the ENP remains infused with discourses of threat. Thus, although the ENP talks of building bridges to the EU’s new ‘ring of friends’, the discursive logic of the ENP rather emphasizes these ‘friends’ as a potential security problem for the EU and mandates dealing with these ‘friends’ on a less than equal basis. Therefore, whether the ‘ring of friends’ will characterize the relationship with the EU as one of friendship (rather than as colonial, for example) is questionable. Second, the chapter further highlights these points by comparing the ENP with the EU’s Northern Dimension Initiative (NDI) and by arguing that the generalization of the ENP to the North and the NDI’s consequent subordination to the ENP are undermining key developments in the North. Thus, although various statements within the ENP proclaim that the more dialogue-based and less value-oriented NDI should be seen as a model for the ENP, with the ENP integrating its most positive elements, the actual relationship between the two policies is quite problematic. Indeed, we argue that the idea that aspects of the NDI can be included in the ENP fundamentally misunderstands that the NDI and ENP operate according to very different logics when it comes to thinking about the nature of political space, borders and subjectivity.3 In short, while the NDI has entailed a vision of a regionalized and decentred Europe in which power and subjectivity are allowed to disperse to the margins and various multilateral forums, the ENP emphasizes bilateral relations with its neighbours and the centralization and homogenization of the EU’s border policies, all of which is illustrative of an imperial bent within the EU. This leads to a third argument, namely that differences between the ENP and post-Cold War developments in northern Europe are also indicative of the existence of different logics when thinking about how to

ENP and the Northern Dimension

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achieve security. In the North a rather traditional Cold War ‘common security’ approach has been the driving force of regional and cross-border cooperation. According to this logic, security is about building stability, trust and understanding with outsiders (who may or may not be like us) in a spirit of dialogue, partnership and compromise. In this respect, within the NDI, Russia can be an EU ‘friend’ while retaining its sense of difference and distance. In contrast, in the ENP a more radical ‘liberal security’ discourse is evident, where EU security and threat perceptions are seen as dependent upon the neighbourhood conforming to EU values, norms and practices. Put simply, to qualify for inclusion in the ‘ring of friends’, one should become like ‘us’ and accept unconditionally EU preferences as the right path to the good life. Difference and distance in this scheme appear suspicious in not conforming to the EU’s own image and are likely to close oneself off from the category of ‘friend’. However, whereas the ENP stands for an effort to create a cooperative and yet securitized external sphere, as yet the policies have not been implemented in a categorical manner. As such, space for diversity and learning remains within the ENP, making it important to reflect upon experiences in northern Europe, where the neighbourhood still appears to remain one negotiated with outsiders, rather than the external sphere being shaped unilaterally by the EU as appears the case in the ENP. This latter perspective makes it crucial to probe the unfolding of the ENP, particularly in northern Europe.

ENP and the integration-security dilemma With the 2004 enlargement, with concerns growing over the unwieldiness of the EU and with fears evident as to how the EU should relate to its neighbours, future enlargement (not including that already agreed to regarding Bulgaria and Romania and that was realized in 2007) has dropped off the EU agenda. Instead, the EU has felt compelled to make a radical departure in how it approaches its neighbours. Thus, whereas the Treaty of Rome proclaimed the EU to be a club open to all the nations of Europe that wanted to join and met the values of the Union, the ENP proclaims a non-negotiable final border of ‘Europe’, at least for the foreseeable future. While the ENP promises willing neighbours that they can develop a closer economic relationship with the EU, future membership is not in the cards. In the current phraseology of the day, it is ‘everything but institutions’. The ENP is a radical departure for the EU that challenges traditional EU policies that have been performative of particular notions of ‘Europe’s’


self-identity. For example, notions of the EU as a peace project possessing a ‘peace mission’ to bring stability throughout the European continent have traditionally been tied to the carrot of future membership. Europe’s peacefulness and the spread of ‘European values’ have therefore been performed through its openness to enlargement and its unwillingness to draw definitive borders of exclusion. With its bar on future membership, the ENP undermines this approach of demonstrating (EU) Europe’s peacefulness and inclusiveness and therefore calls for alternative means by which the EU might live up to its peace project identity narrative and the inclusiveness deemed to be evident in the concept of ‘European values’. However, entailed within the peace project identity and the desire to spread ‘European values’ have also been endemic security concerns that have pushed the EU to adopt an expansionary approach toward its outside. As F. Tassinari has framed the issue, the EU has traditionally been stuck in a dilemma between balancing desires for further integration with those of ensuring the Union’s security.4 The point is that the EU has tended to see its outside as a source of instability and insecurity. This has resulted in two policy responses. First, there have been attempts to preserve the security of the inside by asserting the need for the Union to develop impermeable borders to keep the danger excluded at the gates of a fortress Europe. To some extent this has been the logic behind the Schengen visa regime.5 Second, however, to overcome the external threat and to live up to EU ideals of an open peace project, policies have also been developed to extend EU systems of governance to those beyond its borders. This has been achieved through a variety of measures from the Association Agreements to the Balkans Stability Pact, to the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, to the NDI. Central to the effectiveness of most of these policies has been the conditionality mechanism by which states that comply with EU reform goals are rewarded with a closer relationship with the EU. The ultimate carrot in this respect has been EU membership, at which point, however, the integration-security nexus begins all over again in relation to the EU’s new neighbours. However, whereas previously the EU has postponed this dilemma and deferred the question of the EU’s final borders by pushing forward with another round of enlargement, with enlargement now off the agenda, the ENP has been created as a policy designed to cope with (and hopefully overcome) this ‘integration-security dilemma’ – that is, how to promote stability and security without having to rely on the carrot of future enlargement. Unfortunately, however, and despite Commission protestations to the contrary, we argue the ENP is unlikely to succeed in


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this goal for the simple reason that the ENP fails to transcend the ‘integration-security dilemma’ that has driven the EU’s approach to its border states in the past. There are a number of reasons for this. Of initial concern is that the new neighbourhood created by the 2004 enlargement has primarily been conceived as a source of threats to the EU.6 The documents that initiated the process of formulating a more explicit neighbourhood policy stressed needs such as avoiding ‘the risk of negative spillover’, with such ‘threats’ most notably conceived in terms of illegal immigration, terrorism, organized crime, communicable diseases and social problems associated with poverty, etc.7 These external threats are then to be countered by attempts on the part of the EU to order the space beyond its borders through the export of EU norms and practices.8 Thus R. A. Del Sarto and T. Schumacher argue that while socio-economic benefits for the new neighbours ‘may’ accrue from the ENP, the driving motivation for the establishment of the ‘ring of friends’ has been the security concern to create a buffer zone between the EU’s inside and its outside. Ironically, this is to be achieved to some extent by blurring the external border with its immediate neighbours in some areas in order to make those neighbours responsible for effective control of their borders with neighbours even further to the East and South, thereby pushing the threat of the outside away from the EU’s own borders.9 Interestingly, this ‘buffering logic’ does not result in a modernist, Westphalian approach to the EU’s borders, but rather sees the EU’s governance as ‘fading out’ into the space beyond. Nevertheless, the underlying logic is one of exclusion and threat rather than inclusion. The outside remains a security concern, precisely because it is not integrated. The emphasis on exporting EU norms beyond its borders leads to the second point that confirms the ENP’s failure to transcend the ‘integrationsecurity dilemma’. The point here is that the mechanism by which the EU will achieve these aims remains premised on the principle of conditionality. In terms of substance, the ENP rests on promises to upgrade political and economic relations with the partner countries (to the extent that the EU’s Four Freedoms might be extended to them in their entirety10) in return for tangible progress in implementing internal reforms. The previous logic behind enlargement therefore remains intact, except now emphasis lies on the fact that everything is possible bar institutions (i.e., membership). There are, however, a number of key problems with the continued reliance on the conditionality mechanism. First, the conditionality mechanism is only likely to work to the extent that the neighbours actually aspire for membership and perceive this to be possible. These

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points can be taken in turn. First, the ENP’s assumption that outsiders desire membership (and therefore need to be staved off by policies such as the ENP) only partially correlates with reality. Thus, while the eastern neighbours are desirous of membership, Russia has explicitly rejected the idea, while along the southern Mediterranean borders membership is also generally rejected as an option. Indeed, for many of the authoritarian regimes of the region the EU’s emphasis on the values of liberal democracy is perceived as potentially threatening and as something to be kept at bay.11 In such situations, where countries may desire a closer relationship with the EU, but where membership is explicitly rejected, the hierarchical conditionality mechanism seems unlikely to be overly attractive. Arguably, policies premised on genuine partnership rather than a straight-forward projection of the EU’s own image would be more profitable. Second, even if neighbours do aspire to membership, it seems the conditionality mechanism will only work to the extent that membership remains perceived as possible in the future. Thus, although the ENP is rhetorically designed to enhance certain levels of engagement and integration, but with the ultimate aim of keeping the EU’s new neighbours on the outside, the very logic of the policy actually requires that full integration remains at some level a possibility. As K. E. Smith notes, the ENP remains highly ambiguous as to the form, extent and depth of integration that may be attainable through the ENP. Thus, despite protestations to have solved the integration-security dilemma, as Smith puts it, the ghost of enlargement remains hovering over the policy.12 To restate, though, this ambiguity is central to the very operation of the conditionality principles that underlie the ENP and that justify the hierarchic nature of the policy and its imperial vision of European political space. Without this ambiguity, it is questionable whether the partner countries would be prepared to stick with the sacrifices entailed in the policy.13 As such, the ENP does not solve the dilemma over further enlargement, but perpetuates it, with the result being that the ENP remains firmly entrenched in the logic of the ‘integration-security dilemma’ that it is actually supposed to escape. This conclusion is further supported by more material issues. Key here is that, at the level of practicalities and resources, it may be wishful thinking to assume that through the ENP the EU can act as a regional pacifier and magnet for economic, social and political change in its immediate periphery. As H. Haukkala argues, in reality the ENP is likely to slip from the main agenda in an EU increasingly driven by concerns over its very future – e.g., concerns over the constitution, its future


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budget, how to deal with Turkey and, not least, problems of transatlantic relations.14 While the EU may continue to serve as a beacon of hope for those on the outside, it is questionable whether the ENP will serve as an adequate substitute given that the EU’s time and resources are very likely to be devoted to other issues higher up the EU agenda. Indeed, whether the EU can even make good on those incentives that it has already promised is also open to question. For example, while the Commission has offered the possibility of being fully integrated into the Four Freedoms (‘everything but institutions’ – or what is sometimes referred to as the EEA [European Economic Area] model) it is also clear that not all the member states feel so convinced about this offer. For example, the idea of free movement of people raises considerable concerns throughout Europe about mass and uncontrolled immigration, with its attendant fears over competition for jobs, national instability and the possible infiltration of Islamic terrorists. It is notable, therefore, that limits in this regard are already appearing. Thus, in a speech in October 2005 Benita Ferrero-Waldner, the Commissioner in charge of the ENP, essentially limited free movement from the neighbours to business executives, officials, students and tourists and emphasized the need for managed migration.15 Similar examples also exist with regard to the other of the Four Freedoms.16 Furthermore, Haukkala argues that if the EU project is understood to be in significant trouble, then in future it may in fact find that its neighbours simply no longer aspire to membership or to get as close to the EU as possible. As such, the conditionality principles underlying the ENP and the current asymmetric nature of the policy may lose all attractiveness.17 Put another way, what if the neighbours rather shift to a Russian type of stance? How useful will the ENP be then? In its present guise the ENP simply lacks flexibility to deal with such a potentially changing situation.

The ENP’s challenge to the North If the ENP faces significant problems at the general level of overcoming the integration-security dilemma, then when applied to more specific regional contexts, and in particular to northern Europe, a number of these problems are magnified. In short, the problem relates to the subordination of other regional policies to the standardized and hierarchic logic of the ENP, which in the North threatens to undermine a number of key developments in a region that has rather been characterized by decentralization and relations premised on equality with partner countries.


To understand the issue, it is first necessary to reflect a little more on the role of conditionality in the ENP. The key point here is that in the rhetoric of the Commission the conditionality mechanism is understood to have made the ENP open to ‘differentiation’ and as indicating that the policy is founded on ideas of ‘partnership’. In the Commission’s terms, the ENP process is one of ‘joint ownership’ ‘based on the awareness of shared values and common interests’18 between the EU and its partners. Thus, although the established institutional borders are to remain untouched without the option of any further enlargement, the approach outlined by the Commission is presented as rather inclusive with the stress on making borders fluid and mobile. In short, it is stressed that the conditionality mechanism means that some states (those closer to the ideal EU) will integrate further than others. In this respect, the conditionality mechanism is designed to enable the Union to extend parts of the acquis communautaire to the non-member states. This process is becoming formalized with the partner countries expected to sign Action Plans as a basis upon which their performance can then be evaluated through country reports covering progress on implementation.19 However, despite notions of ‘differentiation’, ‘interdependence’, ‘joint ownership’ and ‘shared values’, the ENP rather seems to be driven by a desire for standardization and homogeneity and for asserting the EU’s hierarchical position. For example, the emphasis on standardization and homogeneity is clear in the ENP’s overall aim, which is concerned with consolidating the Union’s policies toward its near abroad. Thus, instead of having a variety of policies such as the NDI and the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership and so forth, these are to be subordinated to the single ENP, a move that, as G. Gromadzki et al. contend, creates the ‘misleading perception that a similar (although differentiated) relationship model suits all the countries’ and glosses over the fact that such a ‘broad strategy does not respond to the specific aims of the neighbours’.20 However, hierarchical elements in the ENP also stem directly from the emphasis on conditionality, which means that notions of ‘joint ownership’ add up to little. Ultimately, the relationship aspired for is not premised on dialogue as it is the EU that is setting the goals of the specific ENP Action Plans and that will decide whether they have been implemented.21 It is also naïve to think that the parties to each Action Plan will have an equal voice. As Del Sarto and Schumacher note, the various ‘benchmarks’ being established that will become a precondition for an enhanced partnership with the EU are being imposed by the EU. As they put it, ‘The Commission does not leave any doubts that the “commitment to shared values” – such as democracy, liberty, rule of


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law, respect for human rights and human dignity – refers to the values of the EU and its Member States’.22 Similarly, the hierarchical nature of the ENP and the EU’s dominance over the partners is also evident in that no new institutions are being established to coordinate it. The Commission has argued that there is no need for the establishment of a separate (and neutral) Secretariat to oversee the implementation, operation and evaluation of the ENP agreements. Instead, the Commission has asserted that it will take on these coordinating roles, thereby further undermining the level of ‘ownership’, ‘equal partnership’ and ‘dialogue’ possible in the ENP.23 Moreover, conditionality, of course, also entails that the EU retains the right to ‘punish’ partners for insufficient progress through partial or total suspension of assistance. Finally, it should also be stressed that the ENP is premised on bilateralism rather than multilateral or regional approaches. In other words, the new neighbours are targeted individually rather than encouraged to coalesce as a group in negotiating with the EU. The justification for such an approach is that it enables the Union and its partners to tailor cooperation to the specific needs of individual countries. However, from a more Realpolitik perspective, bilateralism accentuates the power asymmetries that exist between the Union and its weaker neighbours and makes the stress on ‘bilateralism’ appear little more than a cover for EU unilateralism.24 As such, bilateralism appears premised on hierarchical structures that may undermine the possibilities for decentralizing governance by stressing local and regional endeavours. In short, the ENP’s emphasis on conditionality not only poses problems as to whether the EU will be able to transcend the integrationsecurity dilemma, but also entails a hierarchical and centralized vision of what (EU) Europe is about. Embedded in the ENP is a self-confident notion that the EU has found the true path to progress and the good life, with the role ascribed to the neighbours being that of students receiving wisdom and guidance from their EU teacher. Although the aim of the ENP is precisely not to alienate the EU’s neighbours or to define the external borders as lines of exclusion and othering, the operative logic of the policy and its embeddedness in pre-set values may mean it fails. Since the end of the Cold War, and in contrast to this rather imperial vision of the EU, things have developed rather differently in northern Europe. Regional cooperation in northern Europe has operated according to a fundamentally different logic to that evident in the ENP. Instead of centralization and hierarchy, the emphasis has been on decentralization and equal partnership through various multilateral forums like the Council of Baltic Sea States (CBSS), the Barents Euro-Arctic Council

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(BEAC) and various city, town, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and issue-based networks. Indeed, in rather idealized fashion it has become common for people to refer to northern Europe, and in particular the NDI, as an example of the possibilities of developing alternative forms of governance and re-conceptualizing borders and subjectivity in more open and inclusive ways.25 For instance, it has been argued that the NDI has promoted a rather neomedieval geopolitical vision of European political space as a result of its emphasis on decentralizing, developing a regional space that transcends the EU’s borders, and being rather flexible about boundaries of inclusion/exclusion across different issue areas.26 Within this space Russia and other regional actors have been understood as equal partners in the formulation and implementation of projects – as opposed to the EU dictating the policies and standards to be met. The vision of the NDI, therefore, has been one of contributing to a rather decentralized Europe, where regions might become constitutive entities in their own right and where space can be provided for outsiders to have a genuine voice in European border policies. The ENP’s emphasis on creating more standardized policies in regard to the EU’s neighbours, and not least its emphasis on bilateral over multilateral relations with the neighbours, has therefore narrowed down space for the more overtly regionalist NDI. The potential problems of the generalization of the ENP to the North and the NDI’s subordination to it are evident in a brief comparison of the different position of Russia in regard to the eastern and northern neighbourhoods. Indeed, starting with the eastern neighbourhood, it should be noted that part of the reason for the emphasis on bilateralism in the ENP actually stems from concerns about the potential influence of Russia in the eastern neighbourhood, and desires to limit this. The point is that when the ENP was being developed it was only targeted at the eastern borders, Belarus, Moldova and Ukraine, while Russia was also initially included.27 Ultimately, Russia became uncomfortable with the ENP, as it would have meant accepting the other neighbours as equals, which would have undermined Russia’s aspirations of devising a privileged ‘strategic partnership’ with the EU.28 In the end, therefore, Russia withdrew, opting instead for a separate bilateral relationship ‘outside’ the ENP premised on the development of the four ‘Common Spaces’.29 From Russia’s perspective, this is important as signalling Russia’s distinctiveness and greater importance in comparison to the ENP countries. Moreover, it implies a more genuinely equal relationship with the EU since the ‘Road Maps’ promoting the Common Spaces are to be based on principles of reciprocity, rather than EU-dictated conditionality.30


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However, on the EU side there were also doubts about the inclusion of Russia, especially if a multilateral approach was adopted in the ENP. For the EU, the issue was that pursuing a multilateral strategy would have compelled it to define the position of Russia in regard to the other partner countries in the ENP. The worry was that Russia might come to dominate the regional relationship in the East, or at least inhibit the options available for the other countries of the region to get closer to the EU. In other words, in promoting a multilateral approach, the EU may have ended up legitimizing Russian dominance of the regional setting on the eastern borders.31 The point, however, is that while the subsequent solution (the exclusion of Russia and the focus on bilateralism) would seem to work in the context of the challenges faced in the East, whether this solution goes down well in the North is another matter. Thus, while the East was a problem in need of a solution from the centre, the North has not been in need of any new, more centre-directed policies, since Russia has not been perceived as an actor creating problems in a multilateral context. This notwithstanding, the fact that the ENP is conceived as a ‘grand design’ applicable to the Union’s neighbourhoods in general means that it is also impacting on the North, despite Russia’s self-exclusion. The reason is that even though no country in the North is party to the ENP (Iceland and Norway remain in the EEA, while Russia has excluded itself), the general applicability of the ENP to the EU’s neighbours is reinforced by the fact that all neighbourhood policy funding will now be directed through its financial instrument (the European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument [ENPI]), thus implying that ENP principles (including that of conditionality) are likely to apply also in the North. As such, whether Russia really has escaped the conditionality mechanism of the ENP remains to be seen. Notably, it is stated on the Commission’s europa website that the development of the strategic partnership through the four Common Spaces must occur ‘in consistency’ with the ENP and its financial instrument.32 Accordingly, the EU’s apparent application of ENP ‘benchmarks’ to the Common Spaces is causing further frustration in Moscow. One concern here is that unless the EU can think in more open terms with regard to Russia, then the Common Spaces initiative will become nothing more than a damp squib.33 The previous emphasis on decentralizing governance within the region, through stressing the importance of the local and the regional, therefore seems doomed to be overtaken by the salience of European-level decision making characteristics of the ENP. However, the ENP’s emphasis on bilateral relations (and its implicit downgrading of multilateral ones)

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is ill-suited for Europe’s North, where dealing with Russia in multilateral forums has been relatively unproblematic. In fact, this has been a core element of the NDI approach and the region’s various multilateral vehicles – not only NDI, but also the CBSS, BEAC, the Arctic Council and various trans-border and cross-border arrangements, including several Euroregions – have been working rather well and largely predate EU involvement in the North. Thus, while the Northern Dimension experience has been presented as entailing significant lessons for the ENP,34 acknowledgement of the benefits of the NDI’s regionalist approach is contradicted by assertions of the need for standardized policies and the development of a single common approach toward Russia premised on high level political dialogue. In short, therefore, whereas the Union’s impact on efforts in northern Europe to further a multilateral approach used to be relatively modest, this appears to be changing with the introduction of the ENP, which involves applying in the North and South a general policy which responds mainly to concerns relating to the EU’s eastern neighbours. Put more specifically, this entails, for example, fears about Russia’s possible dominance in the eastern setting impacting on the more cooperative methods worked out with Russia in the North of Europe. The question emerges, therefore, of whether there is enough flexibility in the EU approach to grant Russia the position of a near-insider in the context of one region-specific arena (the North), while refusing Russia a similar position in another (the East).

Common security versus liberal security Notably different security discourses are invoked by the EU in the different policies and regional settings. In the North a rather traditional approach to security is the driving force for regional and cross-border cooperation. In this context, the North’s contribution to European security involves downplaying the ‘threat of the other’ and rather focusing on the opportunities presented by the end of the Cold War and by prospects for a shared future. Consequently, ‘hard’ (statist) security concerns have been largely ignored in favour of developing socio-economic cooperative endeavours, seen as engendering security and stability over the longer run.35 Such a strategy has entailed a rather inclusive approach, providing all actors with a legitimate voice and ability to influence the regional debate and agenda.36 More generally, in the North there has been considerable willingness to think of security as something that is held in common with others.


45

This ‘northern’ approach contrasts with the understanding of security that underlies the ENP. The latter remains focused on an us–them distinction, viewing the external border as a line of exclusion and control. As discussed above, the rationale for the ENP is critically rooted in a view that sees security as a fundamental problem in handling relations with countries outside of the EU’s eastern border. Unlike the ENP, the northern model does not validate the integration-security nexus. Regional and cross-border cooperation in the North is not designed to ward off further enlargement, since such questions have been treated as largely irrelevant (in the case of the Baltics and Poland, regionalization has prepared them for membership, whereas Russia is not interested). Instead, NDI is about creating spaces for interaction, dialogue and action in realms of common interests. As such, as Tassinari notes, regionalism in the North has been far more inclusive and less focused on security concerns than seems possible in the ENP.37 As a result, the North has largely escaped the unilateralism implicit in the ENP, favouring regional forums such as the CBSS and BEAC (with their separate Secretariats) in which the EU is only one actor amongst others. Another distinction has to do with compromise. In the ENP compromise on the part of the EU is largely off the agenda, for the reason that in the ENP’s ‘liberal security’ discourse it is precisely the EU’s values, norms and practices that have become securitized and are seen as potentially under threat. Threats to security, in this context, arise from the failure to export EU principles and practices into the neighbourhood. Neighbours that meld themselves to EU preferences and assimilate into the ‘European identity’ are positioned positively as ‘friends’, while recalcitrant neighbours reluctant to conform are, in this discursive framework, liable to be designated as potentially threatening the EU. Thus, while in the context of the NDI Russia can be an EU ‘friend’, in the discursive liberal security logic of the ENP such difference is transformed into a security problem.

Conclusion Can differences evident in the northern experience of regional cooperation be maintained in the face of the EU’s new neighbourhood policy? Analysis in this chapter suggests that the EU is projecting itself in a rather uncompromising manner into its external environment. This is ironic given that the ENP is designed precisely as a policy to avoid further enlargement. In the North we have argued an alternative vision of the EU has been evident that has provided more space for engaging in

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an open dialogue with the external environment, but which is now challenged by the different logic of the ENP. However, despite the homogenizing tendencies evident in the ENP, room for a more openly negotiated approach in the North remains evident. At a meeting in November 2005 foreign ministers of NDI partner countries decided that the initiative ‘requires some reshaping in order to better fit into the new operational environment’. They referred to ‘a new NDI’, viewed as a regional expression of the four Common Spaces between the EU and Russia. The ENP was absent from the discussion, except in reference to the ENPI as the EU’s financial instrument in this context. The discussion emphasized open dialogue between parties, with particular stress on Russia’s equal role in the process.38 The participation of the Russian foreign minister in the meeting and the drafting of the guidelines was, as such, regarded as reflecting something quite important, because for a period Russia had been rather passive vis-à-vis the NDI.39 Notably, further negotiations on ‘a new NDI’ premised on the guidelines approved jointly in 2005 have taken hold among civil servants, and a framework document has been drawn up that was approved at an EU–Russia ministerial level summit in November 2006. The framework document states that the NDI in future will not only be one part of the external policies of the EU, but will also be a common policy of ‘four equal partners – the EU, Iceland, Norway and Russia’.40 As such, given the approval of ‘the new NDI’ in November 2006, one might conclude that Europe’s North is still largely premised on a dialogical approach. In other words, at least along this border the EU has refrained from projecting itself into the region in an unconditional manner. As such, this also indicates that the EU can contribute to the formation of political space in a non-imperial, negotiated manner. Indeed, the fact that the northern experience demonstrates the EU’s capacity to act in different ways under different conditions is of particular significance. However, whether lessons will be learned from this experience and then applied to the EU’s broader neighbourhood policy appears much more questionable.

Notes 1. We would like to thank Pami Aalto, Marko Lehti and Viatcheslav Morozov for helpful reflections in preparing this chapter. 2. The concept is used, among other places, in the Commission’s March 2003 communication on the Wider Europe: ‘The EU should aim to develop a zone of prosperity and a friendly neighbourhood – a “ring of friends” – with whom the EU enjoys close, peaceful and co-operative relations ...’. European Commission, Wider Europe Neighbourhood: A New Framework for Relations


3.

4.

5. 6.

7.

8.

9. 10.

11.

12. 13.

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with our Eastern and Southern Neighbours. Brussels, 11 March 2003. COM(2003) 104 final, p. 4. Importantly, a number of analyses assess the impact of the ENP on the EU’s regional policies in the Mediterranean region. Several arguments made in these analyses are also applicable to the northern context. However, our contention is that developments in the North stand out as rather unique and raise a number of important questions for the implementation of the ENP. On the ENP and the Mediterranean, see R. A. Del Sarto and T. Schumacher, ‘From EMP to ENP: What’s at Stake with the European Neighbourhood Policy towards the Southern Mediterranean?’ European Foreign Affairs Review, 10:1 (2005) p. 17–38.; S. Pardo and L. Zemer, ‘Towards a New Euro-Mediterranean Neighbourhood Space’, European Foreign Affairs Review, 10:1 (2005) pp. 39–77. F. Tassinari, ‘Security and Integration in the EU Neighbourhood: The Case for Regionalism’, CEPS Working Document No. 226/1 (July 2005). See also K. E. Smith, ‘The Outsiders: The European Neighbourhood Policy’, International Affairs, 81:4 (2005) pp. 757–73. H. Grabbe, ‘The Sharp Edges of Europe: Extending Schengen Eastwards’, International Affairs, 76:3 (2000) pp. 519–36. J. Jeandesboz, ‘The European Neighbourhood Policy: Analysing the Securitisation(s) of the Union’s “External Border” ’, paper presented at the COST Doctoral Training School, Critical Approaches to Security in Europe, Centre Européen, Institut d’Études Politiques, Paris, 16–18 June 2005. The UK letter that sparked off the process in 2002 underlined that ‘(w)ithin three years, Ukraine and Belarus will border the EU – with all the attendant problems of cross-border crime, trafficking and illegal immigration. Moldova will not be an EU neighbour until later [ ... .] but it already faces grinding poverty, huge social problems and mass emigration.’ Letter from Jack Straw to Josep Piqué (Foreign Minister of Spain), Foreign and Commonwealth Office, London, 28 January 2002. Whereas the UK letter was mainly premised on perceptions of threat, the letter sent somewhat later by the Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs (Regeringskansliet, Stockholm, 8 March 2002) emphasized the duty of the EU to formulate policies in view of the ‘Big Bang’. For an analysis, see Jeandesboz, ‘The European Neighbourhood Policy’. As S. Pardo puts it, the aim has become one of keeping the chaos on the outside, while at the same time trying to enhance security by keeping the outside friendly. S. Pardo, ‘Europe of Many Circles: European Neighbourhood Policy’, Geopolitics, 9:3 (2004) p. 735. Del Sarto and Schumacher, ‘From EMP to ENP’, pp. 25–6. The Four Freedoms relates to the freedom of movement of goods, capital, people and services. European Commission, Wider Europe Neighbourhood, p. 10. H. Malmvig, Cooperation or Democratisation? The EU’s Conflicting Mediterranean Security Discourses (Copenhagen: DIIS Working Paper, 2004). Paper available at www.diis.dk. Smith, ’The Outsiders’, pp. 772–3. G. Gromadzki, R. Lopata and K. Raik, Friends or Family? Finnish, Lithuanian and Polish Perspective on the EU’s Policy Towards Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova, FIIA Report 12 (Helsinki: Finnish Institute of International Affairs, 2005), p. 15.

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14. H. Haukkala, ‘A Rocky Ride for the EU and its European Neighbourhood Policy’, OSCE Review, 13:2 (2005) p. 11. 15. B. Fererro-Waldner, ‘The European Neighbourhood Policy: Helping Ourselves through Helping Our Neighbours’, speech presented at the Conference of Foreign Affairs Committee Chairmen of EU Member and Candidate States, London, 31 October 2005. Speech available at http://europa.eu.int/comm/ external_relations/news/ferrero/2005/sp05_31-10-05.htm (Accessed 8 November 2005). 16. For an overview, see Del Sarto and Schumacher, ‘From EMP to ENP’, pp. 30–2. 17. Haukkala, ‘A Rocky Ride’, p. 11. 18. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy: Strategy Paper. Brussels, 12 May 2004. COM(2004) 373 final, p. 3. 19. On the ENP, see, for example, M. Emerson and G. Noutcheva, ‘From Barcelona to Neighbourhood Policy. Assessments and Open Issues’, CEPS Working Document, No. 220 (2005). As Smith notes, the actual criteria for assessment are far from clear. For example, often it is unclear who is responsible for undertaking an action or exactly how progress will be judged. See Smith, ‘The Outsiders’, pp. 764–5. 20. Gromadzki, Lopata and Raik, Friends or Family?, p. 14. See also R. Albioni, ‘The Geopolitical Implications of the European Neighbourhood Policy’, European Foreign Affairs Review, 10:1 (2005) p. 2. 21. Gromadzki, Lopata and Raik, Friends or Family?, p. 16. 22. Del Sarto and Schumacher, ‘From EMP to ENP’, pp. 23–4. 23. See Pardo and Zemer, ‘Towards a New Euro-Mediterranean’. 24. M. Vahl, ‘Lessons from the North for the EU’s ‘Near Abroad’’, in C. S. Browning, ed., Remaking Europe in the Margins: Northern Europe after the Enlargements (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), p. 57; Tassinari, ‘Security and Integration’, p. 5. 25. C. S. Browning, ‘Complementarities and Differences in EU and US Policies in Northern Europe’, Journal of International Relations and Development, 6:1 (2003) p. 23–50.; M. Filtenborg, S. Gänzle and E. Johansson, ‘An Alternative Theoretical Approach to EU Foreign Policy: “Network Governance” and the Case of the Northern Dimension Initiative’, Cooperation and Conflict, 37:4 (2002) p. 387–407. 26. P. Joenniemi, ‘Changing Politics along Finland’s Borders: From Norden to the Northern Dimension’, in P. Ahponen and P. Jukarainen, eds, Tearing Down the Curtain, Opening the Gates: Northern Boundaries in Change (Jyväskylä: SoPhi., 2000), pp. 114–33.; S. Medvedev, Russia’s Futures: Implications for the EU, the North and the Baltic Region (Helsinki and Berlin: Finnish Institute of International Affairs and Institut für Europäische Politik, 2000). 27. European Commission, Wider Europe Neighbourhood. 28. On Russian attitudes toward the ENP see D. Averre, ‘Russia and the European Union: Convergence or Divergence?’, European Security, 14:2 (2005) pp. 175–202. 29. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy, p. 4. 30. N. Zaslavskaya, paper on the EU Neighbourhood Policy presented at The Fourth Northern Dimension’s Network Meeting, St. Petersburg State University, Russia, 19–20 September 2005.


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31. Smith, ‘The Outsiders’, p. 772. 32. European Commission, The European Neighbourhood Policy, http://europa. eu.int/comm/world.enp/faq_en.htm. (Accessed July 2005). 33. Averre, ‘Russia’. 34. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy, p. 21. 35. C. Archer, ‘The Northern Dimension as a Soft-Soft Option for the Baltic States’ Security’, in H. Ojanen, ed., The Northern Dimension: Fuel for the EU? (Helsinki and Berlin: Finnish Institute of International Affairs and Institut für Europäische Politik, 2001), pp. 188–208. See also H. Moroff, ed., European Soft Security Policies: The Northern Dimension (Helsinki and Berlin: Finnish Institute of International Affairs and Institut für Europäische Politik, 2002). 36. C. S. Browning and P. Joenniemi, ‘Regionality Beyond Security? The Baltic Sea Region after Enlargement’, Cooperation and Conflict, 39:3 (2004) pp. 233–53. 37. Tassinari, ‘Security and Integration’, pp. 16–17. 38. See ‘Guidelines for the Development of a Political Declaration and a Policy Framework Document for the Northern Dimension Policy from 2007’, adopted at a ministerial conference held in Brussels, 21 November 2005. 39. See A. Rettman, ‘EU and Russia to Cement Their Relations in the New Northern Treaty’, EUobserver, 1 September 2006. 40. Joint Press Statement by the European Union, Iceland, Norway and Russia, from the Northern Dimension Senior Officials Meeting, Imatra, Finland, 22 September 2006. Available at http://www.ue2006.fi/news_and_documents/ press_releases/vko38/en_GB/168958/.


Part II The EU and Russia


3 The EU’s Policy toward Russia: Extending Governance Beyond Borders?* Stefan Gänzle

Introduction The history of relations between the European Union (EU) and Russia can be read as the permanent quest of two partners to engage in a longterm relationship without subscribing to any serious long-term commitment. In 1997, the paramount Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) – the cornerstone of the bilateral relationship – entered into force. In 2005, an agreement – the so-called ‘Road Maps’ – was signed to deepen cooperation in the fields of economic integration, freedom and justice, external security, as well as education, research and development. Finally, in 2007, both the EU and Russia were set to negotiate the terms of a new far-reaching agreement replacing, supplementing or superseding the PCA of 1997.1 Although policy makers of both the EU and Russia describe the mutual relationship as a ‘strategic partnership’, neither of them has made an effort to define the long-term perspective of this particular relationship in bold substance. Thus, some pessimists argue that EU–Russia relations neither constitute a ‘partnership’, nor are they ‘strategic’ in substance.2 In any case, the relationship is far from smooth and easygoing. In fact, since 2000, wearing and contentious single-issue debates have over-shadowed the relations on a rather regular basis: transit to the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad in 2001, various aspects of EU enlargement in 1999 and 2003, the Russian

* This chapter is based in part on interviews conducted in Brussels (European Commission, EU Council and Russian Mission to the EC) in May and June 2005. 53

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claim for unified EU veterinary certificates, the extension of provision of the PCA to the ten new member states, the issue of visa-free travel, as well as the most recent presidential elections in Ukraine in late 2004 and the implications of Russia’s energy disputes with Newly Independent States (NIS) in 2005–07 have lingered on EU–Russia relations. Although EU officials affirm that EU–Russia relations constitute one of, if not the most important part of the Union’s foreign policy today, the same people also like to qualify the relationship as ‘complex’ and ‘full of mutual distrust and misunderstandings’.3 Since the EU and Russia signed the PCA in 1994, their relationship has evolved considerably. The PCA was designed in the hope that Russia might consider the provisions as a template for its transition toward a western-style democracy and market economy. This transition was to be bolstered with technical and financial assistance, as outlined in the Washington Consensus. This approach ultimately did not hold true: today, Russia has, to a large extent, consolidated politically and economically, albeit some – critics would say many – of Russia’s means in achieving internal stability are questionable. The direction of change in terms of domestic governance has been captured by Russian President Vladimir Putin himself, who described Russia’s political system as a ‘managed or directed democracy’.4 Besides this, Russian (state-owned) energy producers can rely both on sustained high energy prices and a relative energy dependence of western European countries (in particular with regards to natural gas). Furthermore, the Russian government is more than willing to use political goals with economic means. Overall, the domestic consolidation immediately translates into a much more self-assertive Russian foreign policy, particularly vis-à-vis the EU.5 This chapter argues that a clash between the EU and Russia is inevitable given the divergence of modes of internal governance and interstate relations exhibited by both ‘partners’.6 While Russia is about to consolidate as a modern nation state with a strong trend toward defederalization and central authority, the EU is about to gradually decentralize and ‘federalize’. Since the EU’s foreign policy is relying heavily on ‘external governance’,7 the shift in Russian foreign policy has made the EU’s policy toward Russia an increasingly intricate task. First, this chapter discusses the conceptual approach of governance in the field of EU foreign/external policy. Second, it sets out the major contextual developments and institutional framework of EU–Russia relations. Third, it explores the governance approach in three case studies provided by the EU’s policy toward Russia.

The EU’s Policy toward Russia 55

EU ‘external governance’, boundaries and conditionality In political science, few terms have attracted such a wide range of connotations throughout time as ‘governance’.8 From an international relations perspective, it can be understood as a ‘system of rule at all levels of human activity [ ... ] in which the pursuit of goals through the exercise of control has trans-national repercussions’.9 In comparative politics and (its sub-field) public administration, emphasis is put on governance as ‘self-organizing, inter-organizational networks characterized by interdependence, resource exchange, rules of the game, and significant autonomy from the state’10 and ‘measures that involve setting the rules for the exercise of power and settling conflicts over such rules’.11 Similarly, in its White Book on European Governance, the Commission maintains that governance means ‘rules, processes and behavior that affect the way in which powers are exercised at European level, particularly as regards openness, participation, accountability, effectiveness and coherence’.12 Governance cannot be grasped as a regime or cooperation, as it also implies the internalized and, consequently, durable recognition of a system of rules as well as the internalization of values and norms.13 The governance approach challenges state-centric views in both international relations and comparative politics; it even implies treating international or non-state actors on par with state actors. For example, in the process of EU enlargement, supranational actors such as the European Commission achieved a pivotal role and a great leverage in its interactions with the candidate countries.14 Although the term does not explicitly account for its relations with the concept of ‘government’, one may sum up that governance refers to rule formulation, making and implementation in complex political environments composed of multi-actor and multi-layered configurations. Until recently, the governance approach had not yet been applied to the field of the EU’s external relations, as it is primarily viewed as a theory of domestic relations in federal-like political systems. In the field of EU studies, the governance approach was applied to regional policy-making in the 1980s and 1990s after the European Community (EC) had launched its Single Market programme, providing for a major impact of EU policymaking on its members’ domestic policies (e.g. regional policy). More recently, EU enlargements (1995 and 2004) triggered a number of studies exploring the governance approach in terms of the EU’s interaction with accession states and countries of the immediate vicinity.


One of the central claims of the governance school of European integration is that it can provide the analytical lenses necessary to overcome the assumption that the internal and external relations of states are separated. Thus, it contributes to our understanding of the interplay of EU internal policies with the world outside.15 The governance approach assumes that the geopolitical, cultural, transactional, legal and institutional boundaries between the EU’s inside and outside can – to a certain extent – be blurred, henceforth developing governance beyond the EU, or ‘EU external governance’. M. Smith has identified a set of four boundaries in terms of the EU’s relations with the outside world: (1) a geopolitical boundary which, during the Cold War, was producing a dividing line between the EC zone of peace and the threatening outside world of Europe’s East; (2) an institutional as well as legal boundary defining the institutional and legal framework within which the EU operates, generating an image of a ‘community of law’ and the promoter of civic statehood; (3) a transactional boundary by which the EU regulates market accession for third countries; and, finally, (4) a cultural boundary that is relatively permeable, as established between the inside and the outside on grounds of democratic and political values and human rights.16 As it ultimately may provide major impulses for the transformation of internal governance structures, external governance is more than the mere management of (security-related) externalities. Either the EU is in a position to substantiate its external interest, for instance on the basis of the principle of conditionality,17 or the EU is itself – in terms of a power relationship – in a considerably weaker position than the third country and, consequently, has to accept – at least to a certain extent – to play by foreign rules. Following the concept suggested by F. Schimmelfennig and U. Sedelmeier, studies applying the concept of ‘external’ governance would have to demonstrate that the EU’s external action is shaped by multi-level organizations, that they vary with the institutional context of policy-making, and that they have transformative effects on both the EU and external actors.18 In fact, the multi-level character of the EU imposes severe constraints on the overall EU–Russia relationship in terms of horizontal and vertical coordination in the conduct of the EU’s ‘three-level foreign policy’.19 From a holistic perspective, EU foreign policy is generated by a considerable number of actors both at the European and at member state level, which often reflects S. Hoffmann’s ‘logic of diversity’.20 As a consequence, a serious coordination problem exists within and among these various levels and actors. The main (horizontal) coordination problem results from the fact that EU member states maintain their national foreign policy. Bigger


member states, such as Germany and France, maintain strong bilateral links with Russia. Since 1997, there are also regular tripartite consultations among these governments. It goes without saying that many EU member states – especially some of the new member countries (Estonia, Latvia and Poland) are very distrustful vis-à-vis this sort of country-focused directoire. Recently, the Spanish government (and not Poland) joined such a directoire format, thus giving rise to the image that EU foreign policy is not only bypassing the European institutions of foreign policy-making, but also that it is exclusively geared toward the specific needs of a variable group of major EU member states.21 EU foreign policy, moreover, is generated within several distinctive polities of the EU itself, following different logics of policy and decisionmaking (intergovernmental vs. supranational) and stretching from EC external relations (first pillar) to Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP)/European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) (second pillar) and justice and home affairs (third pillar). Thus, vertical (cross-pillar) policy coordination presents a major challenge for producing overall consistency in EU policies. Last, but not least, an increasing number of issueoriented platforms has been initiated, such as the ‘energy dialogue’ launched in 2000, which involves regular meetings of experts, as well as high-level political discussions during the EU–Russia summits. With regard to the institutional setting in the field of the EU’s external action, we may distinguish between those areas where the European Commission occupies a central place in policy formulation and making (TACIS, Energy Dialogue, Common Economic Space) and those fields where the European Council and General Affairs Council are paramount (external security). Per definition, we may expect external governance to play only a minor role in those areas dominated by the intergovernmental bodies of the EU. Ultimately, transformative effects within the EU will translate into shifts of boundaries of governance, allowing non-EU members a ‘stake’ within a particular area such as the Single European Market (transactional boundary) or within European research and student mobility programmes (transactional and cultural boundary). Transformative effects in the third country can be measured as adaptation processes either in a structured and consistent manner (Europeanization) or as a diffuse process of policy learning and best practices.

The development of EU policy toward Russia The EU’s immediate response to the dismantlement of the Soviet Union was to set up a financial assistance programme (TACIS) in 1991–92 in


order to support the Newly Independent States (NIS) in their transition to democracy and a market economy. In general, approximately 60 per cent of all foreign aid to Russia comes from European countries. Since 1991, over € 2.5 billion have been channelled to Russia via TACIS, making this country the main target of this programme. While it has been aiming at the promotion of privatization and a market economy in conjunction with support of democracy, subsequent reforms of TACIS put more emphasis on the principle of ‘rule of law’ and, most recently, the support of ‘civil society’ in Russia. In addition, TACIS has increasingly been used to support the implementation of the PCA which Russia and the EU signed in 1994 and which came into force in December 1997.22 Although the EU might have hoped for more, this mixed agreement, covering matters which fall both within the Community’s purview and within the jurisdiction of its member states, is essentially not a political agreement, but an economic and commercial one. Like all EU agreements with third countries since 1992, the PCA contains a suspension clause which may be invoked if the partner does not comply with the agreed upon rules. After long disputes, the signature of a protocol extending the provisions to cover the ten new member states was secured in April 2004. The PCA grants most favoured nation status and suppresses most qualitative restrictions (with the significant exception of steel, which accounts for 5 per cent of Russian exports to the EU and nuclear materials) and supports Russia’s accession to World Trade Organization (WTO). Central matters of the EU–Russia partnership are: transport, energy, environment, education, science, technology and the fight against organized crime. The Common Strategy on Russia adopted by the Cologne European Council in June 1999 remained in force until 2004. It was the first of its kind since the creation of this instrument by the Treaty of Amsterdam. It was a further attempt in the realm of EU foreign policy to establish greater consistency in the EU’s policies toward Russia by combining the member states’ and the EU’s policies. Whereas the PCA attached greater importance to economic relations, the Strategy laid more emphasis on political action concerning the consolidation of democracy, respect for the rule of law and public institutions, stability and security in Europe (management of crises and regional conflicts on Europe’s doorstep in particular), and challenges common to the whole continent (environmental problems, organized crime). In 2001, the High Representative of the CFSP, Javier Solana, criticized the Common Strategies as being void of detailed proposals and, hence, useless foreign policy tools.23 In December 2001, the EU put together a Country Strategy Paper on Russia,


specifying the objectives and priorities in EU policy for 2002–06. Hence, the main instruments for implementing its goals remain the PCA, the member states’ assistance programmes and the TACIS programme. Semi-annual summits of heads of state and governments between the EU and Russia provide opportunities for strengthening relations and determining the direction to be given to the PCA. At the St. Petersburg Summit in May 2003 it was decided to strengthen the Cooperation Council by transforming it into the Permanent Partnership Council (PPC). The first meeting of the PPC took place on 27 April 2004, and it intends to hold meetings more frequently and in different ministerial formations. The EU–Russia Summit on 10 May 2005 in Moscow finally adopted a comprehensive package of Road Maps for the development of the four ‘Common Spaces’. These Road Maps, which set out shared objectives for EU–Russia relations as well as the actions necessary to make these objectives a reality, determine the agenda for cooperation between the EU and Russia for the medium-term. Throughout the negotiations Russia has focused primarily on the economic as well as internal security side of the agreement.24 The EU, however, attempted to bring Russia in line with its approach of civilian power and democracy projection beyond its external borders. Using the principle of conditionality, the EU was in a good position to shape the central and east European countries’ foreign and domestic policies. This approach has, by and large, been spurred on by the EU’s enlargement experience of the 1990s, as well as by the fact that the EU and especially the European Commission enjoyed a pivotal role in designing EU–Russia relations throughout the past decade. As there is no prospect for Russia to join the EU, the EU hoped that asymmetry in trade and its role as partner for modernization might suffice to create the same kind of dynamic and to assure the EU’s patronage. From mutual dependencies to managing interdependence: the case of asymmetrical trade relations between Russia and the EU For Russia, trade is an important aspect of relations with the EU, as the EU is Russia’s largest trading partner. Russia is now the EU’s fifth largest trading partner (after the United States, Switzerland, China and Japan). Following enlargement, the EU’s share of Russia’s total external trade has risen from around one-third to more than one-half. EU–Russia trade has more than doubled between 1995 and 2003: in 1995, EU trade with Russia amounted to € 38 billion; in 2003 EU trade amounted

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to € 85 billion with an EU trade deficit of around € 20 billion. In terms of trade structure patterns, Russia’s manufacturing and trade continue to be unbalanced. In 2003, energy and fuels accounted for around 57 per cent of Russian exports to the EU. 25 EU enlargement has simplified and enhanced access for Russian operators to the markets of the enlarged EU, notably of the ten new member states. Other studies, however, point to the fact ‘that long-term consequences of enlargement are to a great extent predetermined by how Russia–EU co-operation priorities are ranked and what legal and organizational model they will choose for the short run’.26 This is basically why Russia keeps seeking a more fixed institutional arrangement for its relations with the EU. External governance in energy policy: EU–Russia energy dialogue After the EU’s Common Strategy had called for ‘enabling Russia to integrate into a common economic and social space in Europe’,27 the impulse for the EU–Russia energy dialogue was launched by Putin, French President Jacque Chirac and the Head of the EU Commission Romano Prodi during the EU–Russia summit of October 2000. Hence, the dialogue should ‘provide an opportunity to raise all the questions of common interest relating to the sector, including the introduction of co-operation on energy saving, rationalization of production and transport infrastructures, European investment possibilities, and relations between producer and consumer countries’.28 Although the energy dialogue fell under the umbrella of the PCA, the energy partnership soon revealed some distinct features. Involving regular meetings of experts, as well as high-level political discussions during the EU–Russia summits, the energy dialogue was highly personalized from the outset. Both Putin and Prodi promoted career bureaucrats as sole interlocutors to preside over it, Vice-Prime Minister, Victor Khristenko, and the Director-General of Directorate-General Energy and Transport, François Lamoureux, respectively. Thus, the institutional format converts the dialogue into a ‘sui generis bilateral initiative’,29 focusing on issues of common interest. Enlargement to encompass eight new members from central and eastern Europe has considerably increased the EU’s dependence on Russian energy supplies. Today, the EU 25 imports 30 per cent of oil and 50 per cent of gas from Russia, becoming the final destination for two-thirds of Russia’s oil and gas exports. Aware of its own limited energy resources, the EU furthermore anticipates a shift of consumption toward gas, thus fostering its reliance on Russian gas supplies.30 Consequently,


Russia is likely to play a vital role in the future of the EU’s energy policy, with the energy dialogue serving as an institutional ‘clearinghouse’ which is focused on the ‘resolution of problems’.31 In this respect, the Commissioner for External Relations, Chris Patten, and the Commissioner for Trade, Pascal Lamy, have suggested using the dialogue as a ‘pioneer for wider relations’.32 Briefly put, the main purpose of the energy dialogue was to establish and to maintain durable links of a particular aspect in EU–Russia relations. Ultimately, in terms of mutual perceptions, the energy dialogue should contribute to the conversion of mutual dependency into interdependence. The progress both partners have (not) made is regularly monitored by so-called ‘progress reports’. The title of the documents clearly mirrors the ‘enlargement jargon’ of the EU; yet, the reports are drafted and presented jointly by the administrative heads of the energy dialogue. From its outset, industrial representatives were invited to take part in bilateral thematic groups on energy strategies, technology transfer, investments, environmental questions and energy efficiency. These groups, composed of Russian and EU experts from the private and public sector, examined areas of common interest and recommended priorities for the dialogue. Furthermore, the EU–Russia Industrialists’ Round Table has created a ‘pilot group on energy’ in 2003, comprised of senior representatives of major European and Russian companies. The record of progress since 2000 has been mixed. There have been notable successes, such as the establishment of a joint Energy Technology Centre in Moscow in November 2002, discussions on an investment guarantee scheme funded by the EU, and the launch of several pilot projects for energy-saving measures. Yet, as K. Barysch observes, the EU and Russia remain divergent on a number of central issues such as pipelines, gas supply contracts, the restructuring of the electricity sector and nuclear fuel supply.33 The EU’s acceptance of Gazprom’s monopoly on gas pipelines in May 2004 proved to be a watershed. While EU countries have been committing themselves to further liberalize their energy markets for industrial and household users, the Russian supplier is allowed to sell gas to different EU countries at different prices. It is clear that such behaviour is not favourable for the development of an EU-wide gas market. Most importantly, the energy dialogue has so far not decreased opposition by the Russian energy business to the European Energy Charter of 1994. Although the Charter was signed by Russia, it is highly unlikely to be ratified by the Duma.34 Taking into account that the EU is to large extent a demandeur in this particular policy field, the energy dialogue is not easily dismissed. The


recently signed Road Map document emphasizes the importance of the energy dialogue in the overall framework of EU–Russia relations. Yet the EU is not in a position to shape unilaterally Russia’s energy policies. While the European Commission called for the acquis communautaire to become a reference framework for a reform of the energy sector to be implemented in Russia, the Road Maps emphasize the promotion of ‘regulatory convergence’.35 Throughout its existence, the energy dialogue has clearly been shaped in a multi-actor environment comprising public and private actors from Russia, the EU and various member states. However, the extent to which the EU has actually had an impact on Russian lawmaking remains to be seen. In turn, Russia has been able to trigger some transformative effects on the institutions of the EU; the format of the energy dialogue has served as a model for promoting flexibility in EU–Russia relations. Being a net demandeur in this particular area, the EU is, for various reasons, ready to accept the ‘exception russe’. Still, it is clear that this leverage cannot easily be transferred to other sectors of EU–Russia relations. External governance in the economic sector: From the free trade area to common economic space While the PCA set out to ultimately achieve a free trade area between the EU and Russia,36 a first reference to a Common European Economic and Social Space was made in the EU’s Common Strategy on Russia in 1999; finally, the St. Petersburg EU–Russia Summit in 2002 renamed it the Common Economic Space (CES). Although the PCA clearly asked Russia to ensure ‘the approximation of legislation’37 along the lines of the Community’s acquis communautaire in order to strengthen economic links, the following agreements were less explicit in terms of Russia’s commitment to adapt unilaterally to the EU’s accumulated rules. Within the Road Maps package, the CES is the most detailed one. Interestingly, it ‘proceeds through the standard agenda of all EU negotiations with its accession candidates and other neighbours and association partners:’38 hence, it covers industrial standards, competition and public procurement policies, investment climate and enterprise policy, cross-border cooperation, financial services, accounting standards and statistics, agriculture and forestry, customs procedures, transport and telecommunications networks, energy, space and environment. The CES encourages cooperation and dialogue between both partners in almost every policy area. In terms of substance, there are two remarkable


features: first, the long-term objective of establishing a free trade area does not find a single mention. This might be attributed to the very fact that the creation of a free trade area, as spelt out in the PCA, does not properly serve Russian interests, since Russian exports to the EU are mainly tariff-free goods such as gas and oil. Some economists are convinced that it would only be beneficial for Russia to implement smaller parts of the acquis communautaire – notably the four freedoms (which is why Russia shows such a profound interest in achieving visa-free travel with the EU and its member states). In contrast, higher standards in environmental and social issues may hamper Russia’s socio-economic development. Although Russia has been assured that it is not necessary to take over the whole acquis, it is clear that especially the new member states will not allow Russia any sort of ‘cherry-picking’ among those parts of the acquis. The new EU members are very much aware of the difficulties in adopting and implementing the acquis; furthermore, they are, for historical and political reasons, less willing to foster a privileged role for Russia in the context of European integration. Second, the Road Map for the CES does not explicitly call on Russia to bring its legislation in line with EU norms and standards; instead, the language of the agreement emphasizes the need for two-sided convergence and harmonization of both Russia and the EU without saying who is converging or harmonizing on whom. Russia’s insistence on the principle of equal partnership has made it almost impossible to refer to EU legislation and the acquis communautaire. Ultimately, this touches upon the question of which cooperative model is most valid in EU–Russia relations. A fully-fledged CES would require Russia to adopt large parts of the EU’s acquis similar to the states that are part of the European Economic Area (EEA). While countries such as Norway and Iceland are obliged to implement the acquis in all relevant areas, the EEA gives full access to the single market and denies EEA members a stake in the law-making process. In contrast, Russia favours a somewhat more balanced approach to the approximation of legislation. External governance in the field of external and internal security Because of the embryonic state of the EU’s CFSP, Russia did not regard the EU as a credible actor in the field of foreign and security policy until the late 1990s.39 This attitude changed when, in 1998 at a bilateral summit in St. Malo, France and the United Kingdom decided to add a defence component to CFSP under the name of European Security and

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Defence Policy. With the backdrop of NATO’s campaign in Kosovo in 1999, Russia started to reassess its European security policy, shifting its emphasis on cooperation with Europe in the framework of ESDP.40 Thus, Russia hoped to further reduce the role of NATO and the USA in Europe. By this move, EU–Russia cooperation under the umbrella of ESDP gained an anti-American flavour. During its EU Presidency in 2000, France also launched a security dialogue with Russia. Since then, and especially after the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001, the number of meetings and agreements in the political and security area has substantially increased. A Russian officer cooperates closely with the EU military staff in Brussels, and the head of the Russian mission to the EU regularly meets representatives from the EU’s Political and Security Committee. Furthermore, Russian and EU experts exchange views on topics such as anti-terrorism, the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD), and so on. In early 2003, Russia sent a small number of officers to the first EU police mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Russia has clearly sought to exert influence on the development of ESDP. Thus, Russia stresses the need for the EU to operate only within a United Nations’ mandate; furthermore, Russia attempted to achieve a stake in the decision-making process of ESDP. While the EU is ready to accept Russian involvement in military planning and in operations, it does not want to blur the institutional boundary in a way that would allow Russia to shape ESDP. In particular, the EU has resisted the Russian suggestion to create a distinct EU–Russia Council similar to the NATO– Russia Council. Because of the general lack of progress in ESDP, and particularly because of Russia’s limited role as an equally footed partner41 of ESDP, Russia has increasingly lost interest and enthusiasm since 2002. Furthermore, divergence amongst EU members on the war in Iraq clearly demonstrated the structural impediments of ESDP. The Road Map covering a Common Space of External Security is silent on the issue of ESDP. Instead, it outlines an agenda for cooperation over terrorism, crisis management, non-proliferation and civil protection. The Road Map is not very detailed as far as ‘the settlement of regional conflicts, inter alia in regions adjacent to EU and Russian borders’.42 In this respect, Russia was not ready to engage in a more concrete plan for common action in Russia’s troubled neighbourhoods, such as the Caucasus. Contrary to the field of external security, the Common Space of Freedom, Security and Justice (CSFSJ) exhibits a wide range of common commitments made vis-à-vis combating international crime, drug and


human trafficking, as well as the fight against terrorism. Measures for concrete cooperation involve various Russian security agencies and a number of EU bodies such as Europol or Eurojust. It is striking that the CSFSJ contains a preamble referring to the relevance of common interests, equal partnership and common values such as democracy, rule of law and the respect of human rights. To some extent, this mirrors the provision concerning these core values as they are outlined in the Action Plans launched under the umbrella of the ENP. It is likely that the EU was in the position to obtain this reference only because Russia, in general, is a demandeur under the provisions governing the second Common Space, as it was trying to get visa-free travel for its citizens. This led to difficult negotiations, as the EU was demanding, for its part, a strengthening of Russian border controls, including the proper demarcation of its external borders, as well as the conclusion of readmission agreements. The latter presents huge difficulties for Russia, as its eastern borders are vast and porous. Yet, ultimately, an agreement on visa facilitation and on readmission was signed at the EU–Russia Summit at Sotchi on 25 May 2006.43

Conclusion Against the backdrop of the changing geopolitical environment in Europe, this chapter has assessed the EU’s policy approach toward Russia by building on the concept of external governance. The EU has tried to tie Russia into selected areas of European integration; however, it fails to make Russia subscribe to the underlying dynamic of EU modes of governance. External governance is described as the (conditional) extension of the EU’s norms, rules, and practices by blurring its institutional, legal, transactional, cultural and geopolitical boundaries, as well as potential repercussions in the European Union. This approach definitely helps to elucidate the close inter-linkages between the EU’s internal and external environment. Subject to the policy area and institutional context, the level and scope of external governance varied. EU external governance was assessed in the context of energy policy, ‘market integration’ (CES), as well as internal and external security. In all three areas the EU has aimed to project its values, norms and practices toward a non-EU country by blurring parts of its boundaries. In the field of internal security, it was clear that the EU was ready to accept Russian participation in some EU bodies such as Europol and Eurojust. However, even in the case of a selective modification of the institutional boundary, the EU is not willing to accept a third country on an equal footing in

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terms of decision-making. Yet, Russia insists on being recognized as an equal power with the right to participate in policy formulation and policy-making on the same terms as the EU and its member states. Contrary to the east European NIS neighbours (in particular, Ukraine and Moldova), Russia is unwilling to accept external governance in foreign policy, which, ultimately, is being perceived as a way to subjugate Russia by Europeanizing it. Thus, two Russian policy analysts summarize: ‘The EU’s “new” model for Russian–European relations features the same dual nature between the parties which they have had in the last decade. On the one hand, the EU declares its wish to create, together with Moscow, something really common. In order to achieve this goal, Russia must adopt European values. In reality, however, when it comes to practical issues that are of importance to the Europeans, the official EU bodies treat Russia as an outside partner, whose interests often do not coincide with those of Europe. The bargaining between the parties would be more appropriate for EU relations with non-European China, or perhaps Japan, than for its relations with a country which ten years ago proclaimed its fundamental choice in favour of Europe.’44 Russia does not subscribe to the idea of unilaterally converging toward EU standards in full. Thus, ultimately, EU external governance only affects a few selected policy areas of EU–Russia relations: issuecentred negotiation and bargaining will prevail in this form of a partnership and are unlikely to yield any progress in comprehensive integration between Russia and the EU.45

Notes 1. By the end of 2007 the initial ten-year period of the current PCA expires. Unless a new agreement is negotiated to replace it, the PCA will remain in force unchanged. 2. See D. Danilov, ‘Russia and the ESDP: Partnership Strategy versus Strategic Partnership’, in S. Gänzle and A. Sens, eds, Europe Alone. The Changing Patterns of European Security (London: Palgrave, 2007) pp. 135–58. 3. Assemblée Nationale, Rapport d’information déposé en application de l’article 145 du Règlement par la Commission des Affaires Etrangères sur les relations entre l’Union européenne et la Russie et présenté par MM. René André et Jean-Louis Bianco, députés, N° 1989, 14 December 2004, Paris, p. 41. 4. See e.g. A. Wilson, Virtual Politics: Faking Democracy in the Post-Soviet World (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005). 5. This is Irina Kobrinskaya’s concept of ‘pro-Russianness’, see I. Kobrinskaya, Russian Foreign Policy in the Post-Soviet Space: New Priorities for New Challenges?, Ponars Policy Memo 332 (2004). 6. Cf. J. DeBardeleben, ‘Multilevel Governance and Centralization in Russia: Implications for EU–Russia Relations’, in S. Gänzle, G. Müntel and E. Vonokurov,


7.

8. 9.

10.

11.

12. 13. 14.

15.

16.

17.

eds, Adapting to European Integration? The Case of the Russian Exclave of Kaliningrad (manuscript). Please note that this paper does not intend to establish ‘external governance’ as a concept distinct from ‘internal governance.’ To the author’s understanding, ‘external governance’ relies on the externalization of the EU’s modes of governance. See S. Gänzle, ‘Presence and Actorness of the EU in the Baltic Sea Area: Multilevel Governance Beyond the External Borders of the European Union’, in H. Hubel, ed., EU Enlargement and Beyond. Russia and the Baltic States (Berlin: Spitz, 2002).; M. S. Filtenborg, S. Gänzle and E. Johansson, ‘An Alternative Theoretical Approach to EU Foreign Policy. “Network Governance” and the Case of the Northern Dimension Initiative’, Cooperation and Conflict, 37:4 (2002) pp. 387–407; L. F. Lykke and A. Murphy, ‘The European Union and Central and Eastern Europe: Governance and Boundaries’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 37:2 (1999) p. 211–32; S. Lavanex, ‘EU External Governance in “Wider Europe” ’, Journal for European Public Policy, 11 (2004) pp. 680–700. A. M. Kjær, Governance, (Cambridge and Malden: Polity, 2004) p. 3. J. N. Rosenau, ‘Governance, Order, and Change in World Politics’, in J. N. Rosenau and E.-O. Czempiel, eds, Governance without Government Order and Change in World Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 13. R. A. W. Rhodes, Understanding Governance. Policy Networks, Reflexivity and Accountability (Buckingham and Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1997) p. 15. G. Hyden, ‘Governance and the Reconstitution of Political Order’, in R. Joseph, ed., State, Conflict, and Democracy in Africa (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1999) cited in Kjær, Governance, p. 3. European Commission, European Governance. A White Paper. Brussels, 25 July 2001. COM(2001) 428 final, p. 8 (fn1). See S. Lavanex, ‘EU External Governance in “Wider Europe” ’, p. 682. Until 2004, the ENP was part of Directorate General (DG) Enlargement. When the new Commission stepped into power, it merged with DG External Relations (Relex). The author was told in an interview at the Council Secretariat that in the post-enlargement restructuring of the Commission resources and expertise from various groups of DG Enlargement became available for DG Relex. L. Friis and A. Murphy, ‘The European Union and Central and Eastern Europe: Governance and Boundaries’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 37:2 (1999) p. 212; M. Jachtenfuchs, ‘The Governance Approach to European Integration’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 39:2 (2001) p. 249. M. Smith, ‘The European Union and a Changing Europe: Establishing the Boundaries of Order’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 34:1(1996) p. 5–28; M. Smith, ‘Negotiating New Europe: The Roles of the European Union’, Journal of European Public Policy, 7:5 Special Issue (2000) pp. 806–22. Cf. K. E. Smith, ‘The Use of Political Conditionality in the EU’s Relations with Third Countries: How Effective?’, European Foreign Affairs Review, 3 (2001) pp. 253–74: Political conditionality entails the linking by a state or international organization of perceived benefits to another state (such as aid) to the fulfilment of conditions relating to the protection of human rights and the advancement of democratic principles. Positive conditionality

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18. 19.

20. 21.

22. 23. 24. 25.

26.

27. 28. 29.

30.

31.

32. 33. 34.

The Boundaries of EU Enlargement involves promising the benefit(s) to a state if it fulfils the conditions; negative conditionality involves reducing, suspending, or terminating those benefits if the state in question violates the conditions. Political conditionality differs from the Cold War practice of ‘linkage’ in that it is broader in its objectives (general political reform) and is not applied only to a certain group of (communist) states. See F. Schimmelfennig and W. Wagner, ‘Preface: External governance in the European Union’, Journal for European Public Policy, 11 (2004) p. 658. H. Hubel even speaks of a three-level game involving the domestic, intraand extra-European level. See H. Hubel, ‘The EU’s Three-level Game in Dealing with Neighbours’, European Foreign Affairs Review, 9 (2004) p. 349. See S. Hoffmann, ‘Obstinate or Obsolete? The Fate of the Nation State and the Case of Western Europe’, Daedalus, 95 (1966) p. 864. However, the coordination problem also persists on the level of the individual member state. For example, in November 2003 the Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi proposed Russian EU membership; in the summer of 2002 French President Jacques Chirac recommended visa-free travel for Kaliningraders. From 2007 onwards TACIS has been replaced by the European Neighbourhood Partnership Instrument. D. Lynch, Russia faces Europe, Chaillot Paper, 60 (Paris: Institute for Security Studies, 2003) p. 85. Author’s interview with a member of the European Commission on 26 May 2005. For the EU’s trade relations with Russia, see Directorate General for Trade, http://ec.europa.eu/comm/trade/issues/bilateral/countries/russia/index_ en.htm (Accessed 20 June 2006). National Investment Council, The Effect of the EU Enlargement on Russia’s Economy, Study with support from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation, (Moscow: 2004) p. 66. European Council, Common Strategy on Russia (Brussels: June 1999) p. 2. European Council, Presidency Conclusions (Nice: December 2000). EU–Russia Energy Dialogue, Fifth Progress Report, presented by Russian Minister of Energy and Industry Victor Khristenko and European Commission Director-General François Lamoureux (Moscow/Brussels, November 2004) p. 2. European Commission, The Green Paper. A European Strategy for Sustainable, Competitive and Secure Energy, Brussels, 8 March 2006. COM(2006) 105 final, p. 3. European Commission, Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament. The Energy Dialogue between the European Union and the Russian Federation between 2000 and 2004. Brussels. 13 December 2004. COM(2004) 777 final, p. 2. Cited in K. Barysch, The EU and Russia. Strategic Partners or Squabbling Neighbours (London: Centre for European Reform, 2004) p. 32. Barysch, The EU and Russia, p. 32. See Itar-Tass, ‘Russia Won’t Ratify Energy Charter – Shuvalov’, Moscow (20 June 2006) http://www.itar-tass.com/eng/level2.html?NewsID= 10549637& PageNum=0

The EU’s Policy toward Russia 69 35. Road Maps 2005, p. 14. 36. Article 1 of the PCA states that ‘(t)he objectives of this Partnership are: [ ... ] the necessary conditions for the future establishment of a free trade area between the Community and Russia covering substantially all trade in goods between them, as well as conditions for bringing about freedom of establishment of companies, of cross-border trade in services and of capital movements’. 37. Article 55 of the PCA. 38. M. Emerson, ‘EU–Russia. Four Common Spaces and the Proliferation of the Fuzzy’, CEPS Policy Brief, No. 71 (2005) p. 2. 39. D. Mahncke, ‘Russia’s Attitude to the European Security and Defence Policy’, European Foreign Policy Review, 6 (2001) p. 428. 40. T. Forsberg, ‘The EU–Russia Security Partnership: Why the Opportunity was Missed’, European Foreign Policy Review, 9 (2004) p. 251. 41. At the Russian Mission to the EC, there were complaints that ‘Russia had no voice in the process of ESDP’. (Author’s interview on 1 June 2005). 42. Road Maps 2005, p. 39. 43. Council of the EU, 17th EU–Russia Summit, Sotchi, 25 May 2006, 9850/06 (Presse 157), Sotchi, 25 May 2006, p. 2. 44. T. Bordachev and A. Moshes, ‘Is the Europeanization of Russia over?’, in Russia in Global Affairs. Journal on Foreign Affairs and International Relations (Moscow, 2004), http://eng.globalaffairs.ru/ (Accessed 20 June 2006). 45. Lavanex, ‘EU External Governance in “Wider Europe” ’, p. 695.

4 Public Attitudes toward EU–Russian Relations: Knowledge, Values, and Interests Joan DeBardeleben

Introduction In May 2003, during his annual address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation, Russian President Vladimir Putin put forth his strategic position regarding Russia’s choice to integrate with Europe: ‘... this is our historical choice. It has been made’. Recognizing the complexities and long-term nature of the goal, Putin referred to shared interests: ‘It is also obvious that our interests, and the interests of “Greater Europe” require that serious steps be made towards each other’.1 This declaration was followed in his 2005 address to the Federal Assembly by an affirmation of Russia’s commitment to European values, referring to ‘the ideals of freedom, human rights, justice and democracy’ as ‘our society’s determining values’.2 In his 2006 speech, after giving priority mention to the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), Putin identified the European Union (EU) as ‘our biggest partner’, promising the potential for ‘mutually beneficial economic ties’.3 Putin’s declarations appeal both to common values and to shared interests as the basis for Russia’s ‘European choice’. Yet in fact, the relative importance of these two foundations represents an underlying tension in the relationship between the EU and Russia. The EU’s self-perception emphasizes the primacy of values, and the EU in many instances takes the position of a normative actor in relations with its neighbours. As stated by the European Parliament and Council in October 2006 in the regulations governing the Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (NPI), ‘the privileged relationship between the European Union and its neighbours should build on commitments to 70

Public Attitudes toward EU–Russian Relations

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common values, including democracy, the rule of law, good governance and respect for human rights, and to the principles of market economy, open rule-based and fair trade, sustainable development, and poverty reduction’.4 However, even as Putin proclaims support for European values, the Russian approach is grounded more clearly in the notion of interests, rooted in a defence of Russian state sovereignty. Even when Putin does speak about values, he places it in the context of national interest. In referring to Russia’s ‘civilizing mission’ in Eurasia, he defines the mission as ‘ensuring that democratic values, combined with national interests, enrich and strengthen our historic community’.5 In asserting both common values and shared interests with Europe, Putin may, however, be opening a Pandora’s Box. While the assertion of Russian national interests is a basis of Putin’s domestic popularity, his proclaimed support for European political values (democracy, rule of law and human rights) could feed popular doubts about Russian domestic policies and recent institutional changes in relation to these very values. European leaders and institutions have issued repeated public criticisms of Russia’s record in relation to democracy and human rights; furthermore, neighbouring Ukraine’s Orange Revolution provided a potential model in linking national interest, a ‘European choice’ and a challenge to undemocratic practices. Based on public opinion surveys carried out in Russia, this chapter explores popular attitudes toward the EU among Russian citizens, with the intent of assessing the importance of political values and interests in shaping support for Russia’s stated commitment to developing closer ties with Europe. It will thus clarify whether Putin’s ‘European choice’ is likely to nurture doubts among the Russian population regarding those Russian policies criticized in European circles as contradicting European values. The survey research was conducted at a time when the EU was in the news, just after the 2004 enlargement, which affected Russia’s former allies and some of its closest neighbours. The survey sample covered three Russian regions, each with a different level of EU ‘exposure’.6 Nizhegorodskaia oblast, while relatively far from the European border, has, since the collapse of communism, nurtured significant European and EU contacts. A second region, Orlov oblast, lies in the heart of European Russia’s more conservative (and formerly Red Belt) area, but is relatively close to Ukraine. Orlov oblast has less extensive, but developing, contacts with European institutions. In November 2003 the European Commission announced the opening of a regional support bureau of TACIS (Technical Assistance for the Commonwealth of Independent States) in Orel, the eighth of its kind, less than a year after


the seventh such office opened in Nizhegorodskaia oblast. Other offices are in St. Petersburg, Petrozavodsk, Kaliningrad, Ekaterinburg, Novosibirsk and Rostov-on-the-Don.7 Stavropol, the third region where the survey was conducted, while the beneficiary of some EU funds, has relatively less widespread European contacts. Located in the South of European Russia, Stavropol krai has been impacted and preoccupied by unrest in the Caucasus. While not representative of Russia as a whole, the sample also allows examination of regional differences in attitudes and, in aggregate form, provides a basis for examining relationships between various attitudes.

Russian attitudes toward the EU: Mass and elite Ambivalence to the West has its roots not only in Russian culture, but also in the particular experience of the post-communist period. Despite the attractiveness of western affluence, many Russians saw the dismal results of economic reform policies as reflecting, to a significant degree, the influence of western donor agencies or governments and international financial institutions. The majority of Russians also reacted negatively to NATO enlargement in central and eastern Europe, which took on particular significance when Russia’s role as an important regional actor was given only belated recognition by the West in dealing with the Kosovo issue. These occurrences suggested to many Russians that the West still regarded Russia as more of a security risk than a security partner. Despite the honeymoon in United States (US)–Russian relations following 9/11, in the last five years new tensions have developed in that relationship, stemming from American initiation of the Iraq war, further NATO expansion into Russia’s immediate neighbourhood and the increasingly critical public statements about Russian internal developments made by American officials. Putin’s speech at the 43rd Munich Conference on Security Policy in February 2007 revealed the intensity of Russia’s objections to the emergence of a uni-polar world in which ‘one state and, of course, first and foremost the United States, has overstepped its national borders in every way. This is visible in the economic, political, cultural and educational policies it imposes on other nations’.8 Alongside US–Russian tensions, Russian leaders and citizens have been more positive about European connections, even if there are significant problems facing that relationship as well. Russian objections to American global monocentrism have caused Russian leaders to be supportive of European efforts to counterbalance and offset American


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international dominance, although Putin implied in his Munich speech that these efforts may not have been assertive enough. Russia has become progressively more involved in European endeavours. While expressing no intention to seek EU membership, Russia became a member of the Council of Europe in 1996 and participates in European initiatives such as the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the Northern Dimension and the Council of Baltic Sea States. In 1997 Russia and the EU concluded a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) which, with some Russian resistance, was extended to the new EU member states in 2004. At the St. Petersburg summit in 2003, the EU and the Russian Federation agreed to the formation of four ‘Common Spaces’ of cooperation (economy; freedom, security and justice; external security; and research, education and culture) within the context of the PCA. Since 1991 Russia has been markedly less sceptical of EU enlargement than of NATO enlargement, despite concerns about the securitization of the new external EU border and worries about potential economic impacts of enlargement,9 particularly in relation to the new member states. Agreements with the EU on facilitated visa application processes (a Russian priority) and a readmission agreement (a European priority) were signed in May 2006 and approved by the European Parliament on 15 February 2007; President Putin signed the law ratifying the readmission agreement on 4 March 2007. These measures are to be staged in their implementation. As such, the extent of their impact is still undetermined, but they reflect a willingness on the part of both Russia and the EU to engage each other constructively. Meanwhile, negotiation of a new PCA, in the face of the lapse of the 1997 agreement scheduled to occur in 2007, was delayed after the Polish government vetoed the start of its renewal at the EU–Russia summit in Helsinki in November 2006 in reaction to a Russian embargo on the import of Polish meat products. The lack of a unified position taken by member states in relation to Russia also hinders EU engagement with Russia, as does the perception in Russia that the relations with the EU may restrict Russia’s independence. Nonetheless, attitudes of the Russian public toward Europe also are substantially more positive than attitudes toward the US. 10 Respondents in all three regions surveyed view Europe as a more important partner than the US (31 per cent as compared to 3 per cent), although nearly half the respondents were not prepared to choose and 18 per cent did not designate either as important (data not shown.) Results from surveys conducted by the Russian Public Opinion Foundation (POF) are consistent with these findings. The POF asked respondents about the


relative importance of good relations with the US and the EU; in March 2001 46 per cent of respondents favoured the EU. In June 2005 the question was given a more personal focus, i.e., ‘Do you feel better overall about Europeans or Americans?’. Here, 58 per cent favoured Europeans and only 6 per cent Americans.11 Russian respondents in the three-region survey generally evaluated EU enlargement positively (51 per cent positive or rather positive), compared to only 15 per cent giving a positive evaluation of NATO enlargement. The Euro was seen even more favourably, with 66 per cent giving a positive evaluation (see Table 4.1). The vast majority of respondents depicted the establishment of closer economic relations with the EU as beneficial to Russia (89 per cent), with minimal differences across regions (see Table 4.2). Finally, 24 per cent of respondents indicated that Russia should definitely strive to join the EU, and another 34 per cent were inclined to favour this approach (see Table 4.3). These positive evaluations are consistent with survey results from the Russian POF. POF surveys, carried out between 2001 and the present on the basis of a Russia-wide sample, have indicated high rates of support for Russian efforts to join the EU. In March 2001 59 per cent of respondents favoured such efforts, 55 per cent in 2003 and 48 per cent in 2005. POF analysts attributed lower support in 2005 to a more widespread perception in that year that European leaders did not sympathize with Russia (34 per cent saying ‘yes’, and 48 per cent saying ‘no’ in 2005, compared to 37 per cent and 34 per cent respectively in November 2003). However, survey results from 2006 reveal continuing positive attitudes about Europe. Thirty-nine per cent of respondents saw relations as improved compared to a year earlier, while only 9 per cent felt they had worsened. While 52 per cent acknowledged tensions, 68 per cent felt Russia should seek closer ties with leading European nations, and 57 per cent felt those nations were seeking closer ties with Russia

Table 4.1 Russian evaluations of EU and NATO enlargement, and of the Euro, Row percentages Positive or rather positive NATO enlargement EU enlargement Introduction of Euro

14.9 50.6 65.6

Negative or rather negative

Do not know about it

52.5 13.1 16.1

32.7 36.4 18.3

Weighted N 1800 1800 1800


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Table 4.2 Would it be useful for Russia to establish closer economic ties with the countries of the European Union? Row percentages, missing data removed

Region

Yes

Orlov Nizhnii Novgorod Stavropol Total

40% 35% 40% 39%

More yes than no 46 55 52 51

More no than yes

No

7 6 3 6

7 4 5 5

Weighted N 527 455 456 1438

Cramer’s v = .075, p < .05

Table 4.3 Should Russia strive to join the EU? Row percentages

Region

Definitely yes

Orlov Nizhnii Novgorod Stavropol Total

30% 19% 24% 24%

More yes than no 33 31 37 34

More no than yes 8 11 6 8

Definitely Hard to no say 10 7 7 8

20 32 28 27

Cramer’s v = .117, p < .001

(only 17 per cent disagreed). The main reasons given for seeking closer ties had to do with maintaining peace or improving the economy.12 Russian public opinion: A value gap? What are the underlying dynamics of this popular support for closer EU–Russia ties? To what extent are common values responsible for these positive attitudes? Previous western research provides evidence of a ‘value gap’ between Europe and Russia, and this seems to apply at the level of state policy as well as at the level of popular attitudes. Based on public opinion surveys carried out in late 2003 and 2004, S. White, M. Light and I. McAllister found that ‘there are consistent and often substantial differences in these respects between Russians and their counterparts in EU member countries’.13 The particular values they examined were support for democracy, for the principles of a market economy and for minority rights. While most Russians supported democracy as a principle, a significant proportion of respondents nonetheless preferred the Soviet system or more authoritarian decision-making processes. The survey results indicated that tolerance of minority rights was lower than in


western countries, and even support for market principles was mixed, depending on the indicator.14 Likewise, a POF survey in 2005 provided additional evidence of a values gap; 63 per cent of respondents said that European and Russian culture and values differ significantly, with only 5 per cent saying they do not differ. Only 11 per cent found it hard to answer, with the remainder (21 per cent) finding differences to be insignificant. Other public opinion surveys show that a large proportion of Russians do not consider themselves to be European.15 In considering the likelihood of an Orange Revolution in Russia, former Russian Prime Minister Yegor Gaidar offered insights that may help to explain these findings. In Gaidar’s view, Russia suffers from a ‘post-imperial syndrome’ in which ‘people tend to recall the greatness of the former empire, its prestige and grandeur, its invincibility, and its betrayal. There is a sentiment and a desire to restore this former greatness’.16 Stated differently, in the Russian mindset, it is not easy to link Russian nationalism to a European orientation or European democratic values. Rather, asserting Russianness may involve an insistence on Russia’s distinctive path and power vis-à-vis Europe, and a challenge to the notion that Russia is simply a backward European country or failed European empire. Despite this evidence of a values gap, both former President Boris Yeltsin and Putin have publicly asserted that Russia shares Europe’s values. While Yeltsin accepted the European path wholesale, Putin expresses a more nuanced approach, i.e., European values, but po-russkii (i.e., à la Russe). European leaders, however, do not seem to agree with Putin’s interpretation of European values; they have been outspoken in highlighting Russia’s deviations from European value positions.

Value conflicts The EU’s goals in relationship to Russia have not only involved an effort to stabilize the international system in Europe, but also to ‘Europeanize’ Russia, as the country has undergone processes of radical transformation since the demise of the communist system. C. M. Radaelli’s broad definition of Europeanization applies well in considering EU intentions toward Russia: ‘Europeanization refers to: Processes of (a) construction (b) diffusion and (c) institutionalization of formal and informal rules, procedures, policy paradigms, styles, “ways of doing things” and shared beliefs and norms which are first defined and consolidated in the making of EU decisions and then incorporated in the logic of domestic discourse, identities, political structures, and public policies’.17 Thus an


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important component of Europeanization involves value convergence. Conditionality, the tying of specific conditions to benefits, has been a tool the EU has consistently used to try to achieve this value convergence, not only in relation to prospective member states, but also in relations with other neighbouring countries. In the l990s (i.e., the early post-communist years) there was considerable optimism in Europe that Russia would indeed undergo a value shift in a European direction. Adoption of market reform measures, of a multi-party system, of competitive elections and of a constitution that embedded rule of law and human rights reinforced these hopes. Like many other international actors, including individual European governments and international financial organizations, the EU put in place assistance policies (e.g., TACIS) that encouraged this trajectory. Concerns over human rights abuses in Chechnya were raised by European governments and leaders in the l990s, but since Putin’s election in 2000, and particularly since 2004, doubts have intensified about whether Russia’s path represents convergence with European values. A variety of value-based issues cloud the EU–Russia relationship, rooted in EU concerns over inroads against fledgling democratic processes, incursions on media freedom, controls on NGOs and human rights violations in Chechnya. European leaders express discomfort with recent policy and institutional changes undertaken by Putin, which they perceive as contravening key European values relating to human rights and democracy. Resolutions of the European Parliament have repeatedly flagged these concerns. One adopted on 26 May 2005, while stressing the strategic importance of the EU–Russia partnership, ‘expresses its concern about the apparent weakening of Russia’s commitment to democracy, market economy and protection of human rights; regrets restrictions on the operation of free and independent media; reiterates its criticism of the use of the judicial system in the apparent pursuit of political goals; notes that these developments affect both the situation of the Russian people and Russia’s foreign relations, and that as long as they are not reversed, development of the EU–Russia partnership will be more difficult’.18 In January 2006 the European Parliament passed a resolution calling on the European Commission and Council to respond actively to prevent human rights violations in Chechnya.19 In February 2007 Benita Ferrero-Waldner, European Commissioner for External Relations and European Neighbourhood Policy, weighed in on the issue, indicating that ‘the Commission has been and will continue to emphasize to Russian authorities that our strategic partnership is based on common values’.20

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The Council of Europe has also taken a vocal stance in responding to political and legal changes in Russia. In joining the organization, Russia committed itself, over time, to complying with associated obligations in the fields of democracy, rule of law, and human rights. While several commitments have been fulfilled (e.g., adoption of a new criminal and civil codes, ratification of the Human Rights Convention, the AntiTorture Convention and the Charter of Local Self-Government), others have not.21 On 21 June 2005 Rudolf Bindig, who presented a report to the Monitoring Committee of the Parliamentary Assembly, expressed concerns about the independence of the judiciary and aspects of Putin’s centralization efforts.22 Likewise, Terry Davis, the Secretary General of the Council of Europe, noted human rights issues in Chechnya.23 A report issued by the Monitoring Committee on the Honouring of Obligations and Commitments by Member States of the Council of Europe (prepared by David Atkinson and Rudolf Bindig) criticized institutional changes in Russia, suggesting that Russia ‘should adjust the direction of some of the recent political, legislative, and administrative reforms. This is particularly important with regard to changes affecting the normal functioning of pluralist democracy which requires the organization of free and fair elections, guaranteeing appropriate rights to the opposition, accountability of the executive power and the independence of the media’.24 A resolution passed by the Parliamentary Assembly identified Putin’s efforts to establish a ‘vertical of power’ as ‘a cause for considerable concern’ as it might ‘undermine the system of checks and balances’ needed for democracy. The resolution also questioned whether the new electoral system for the State Duma may ‘severely restrict political competition in Russia’ and called the new procedure for selecting regional governors and implications for selection of the Council of the Federation ‘clearly not compatible with the basic democratic principle of separation of power between legislative and executive bodies’. Other issues were also raised, related to biased media coverage in the most recent federal elections, judicial appointments, the failure to abolish the death penalty and human rights violations in Chechnya.25 On 27 May 2005 Alvaro Jil-Robles, Human Rights Commissioner for the Council of Europe, also delivered a report to Putin that was written for the attention of the Council of Europe’s Committee of Ministers and Parliamentary Assembly. The report noted numerous accomplishments but also delineated serious shortcomings relating to a wide range of human rights issues including media freedom, prison conditions, minority rights, and treatment of immigrants, NGO activity, Chechnya and health care.26 While projecting a constructive approach in outlining needed action, the


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report suggested that government interference in the media and pressure on NGOs is significant, particularly at the regional level.27 In short, the issue of a value gap between Russian practice and European norms has become an increasingly frequent point of discussion. As an apparent rejoinder, Putin expressed his own views about the value issue in his 2005 speech to the Federal Assembly, implying possible hypocrisy on the part of the EU in criticizing Russian human rights violations while inadequately defending the rights of Russians abroad, presumably in the Baltic states, now EU member states: ‘We consider international support for the respect of the rights of Russians abroad an issue of major importance, one that cannot be the subject of political and diplomatic bargaining. We hope that the new members of NATO and the European Union in the post-Soviet area will show their respect for human rights, including the rights of ethnic minorities, through their actions’.28 While affirming Russia’s commitment to democratic values, Putin increasingly emphasizes the specific conditions and traditions that shape the Russian understandings of these values. At the same time, the ability of European institutions to enforce its value judgments has been minimal. The Council of Europe has primarily the power of moral persuasion, and the EU’s instruments of conditionality have waning effectiveness in encouraging value convergence.

The evolving EU–Russian relationship: From values to interests Gradually, therefore, the concern with value convergence seems to be making way for recognition, on both sides, that the relationship can be pursued more realistically in terms of common interests. While shared beliefs and norms may play a role, more likely Europeanization will require a convergence of interests in adopting common or congruent policies. Accordingly, greater emphasis is placed on ‘Road Maps’, ‘Action Plans’ and ‘dialogue’ to realize common interests or to find an accommodation between conflicting ones.29 The relationship is increasingly characterized by negotiation and bargaining. An important Russian document, the 1999 ‘Strategy for the Development of Relations of the Russian Federation with the European Union for the Mid-Term (2000–2010)’,30 sets the terms of the Russian approach to the relationship, making clear that Russian state sovereignty will not be compromised to achieve a closer relationship with Europe; this notion underlies Russia’s insistence on an equal ‘strategic partnership’ as the basis of the EU–Russia relationship. The insistence

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on full state sovereignty is expressed in the formulation that ‘Russia must preserve freedom in defining and carrying out its internal and foreign policy, its status and advantages as a Eurasian state and the largest country of the CIS, the independence of its positions and activity in international organizations’. The goal of the Strategy is defined as ‘ensuring of national interests and increasing the role and authority of Russia in Europe and the world ...’.31 In terms of interests, EU enlargement has posed new geopolitical challenges for Russia. On the one hand, the process formalized central and eastern Europe’s drift away from Russia toward western Europe. Russia’s initial reticence in extending the partnership agreement to the new member states and in recognizing EU requirements regarding transit to Kaliningrad were the first obstacles; no doubt these issues again reminded Russia that, at least on these matters, the EU held the strong hand of cards. As the 2004 events in Ukraine suggest, enlargement can also serve as an additional ‘pull’ toward Europe for other post-Soviet countries, even as Russia seeks to maintain its geopolitical sphere of influence. Russia’s energy policies have generated other sparks in the EU–Russia relationship, as many in the EU interpret Russia’s actions in relation to Ukraine and Belarus as involving the use of energy resources for political purposes. Russia’s refusal to ratify the Energy Charter also highlights differing understandings of fair market access and energy transit practices. An examination of Putin’s annual addresses to the Federal Assembly (a sort of State of the Union address) reveals the importance of economic interests in the Russian view of the relationship. In his inaugural speech in 2000, shortly after his first election as president, Putin cited the Treaty of Rome as a positive example of economic integration that Russia might emulate in securing greater internal integration.32 The 2001 speech referred, admiringly, to ‘dynamic processes’ underway in Europe and to integration with Europe as ‘one of the key areas of our foreign policy’.33 The reference to Europe in 2002 was cryptic, mentioning ‘our consistent position and numerous steps towards integration with Europe’, with special reference to formation of a single economic space.34 In 2003, as noted above, Putin also referred to shared interests: ‘It is also obvious that our interests, and the interests of “Greater Europe” require that serious steps be made towards each other’.35 In 2004 the emphasis continued to be economic integration, but Putin also introduced the notion of spiritual integration (with no elaboration): ‘The expansion of the European Union should not just bring us closer geographically, but also economically and spiritually’.36 Only in the 2005


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speech was the ‘value’ theme put at the fore, but, as noted above, with a particular understanding of the link between national interest, history and democracy.37 In 2006 concern again shifted back to Russia’s interests in its partnership with the EU, placing the relationship at the top of non-CIS linkages: ‘Our biggest partner is the European Union. Our ongoing dialogue with the EU creates favourable conditions for mutually beneficial economic ties and for developing scientific, cultural, educational and other exchanges.’38

Russian public opinion: Values or interests? If Russian leaders place interests above values, what about the Russian public? If public support for close European ties is rooted strongly in an assessment of Russian interests, integration with Europe can more easily be combined with a rejection or indifference to European values. If, on the other hand, support for European values is a strong predictor of support for Russia’s integration with Europe, then the Russian leadership’s evocation of ‘the European choice’ may nourish doubts about Russia’s own domestic path. Multiple regression analysis using the survey data can help in clarifying the relative importance of values and interests in public assessments of the EU–Russia relationship. The data allow us to operationalize ‘values’ and ‘interests’ to assess their relative strength in explaining whether Russia should strive for closer ties with the EU. The dependent variable in the analysis is support for Russia’s efforts to join the EU. While this is not a current goal of Russian state policy, there are generally high levels of support for it, with over half of respondents positively oriented and only 16 per cent against. Indeed, 38 per cent of respondents indicated that they found Russia’s accession more likely than not within five years, a boldly incorrect assessment. As many respondents were evidently confused about EU accession, the question acts as a more general inquiry about Russia’s European linkages. Therefore the dependent variable represents a general expression of support for closer EU–Russia ties. The independent variables utilized in this analysis are divided into four blocks: (a) socio-demographic variables; (b) knowledge about EU enlargement and assessment of it; (c) European values, and; (d) Russian economic interests. Comment is warranted on the latter three blocks of variables. The second block of variables involves measures of the respondents’ knowledge and evaluation of the EU. This block is included because these factors may have an independent impact on attitudes toward the


EU–Russia relationship, apart from the assessment of values and interests. Both the three-region survey and other data suggest that Russians are poorly informed about the EU. White, Light and McAllister found in a 2003 survey that a much smaller proportion of Russians had knowledge about the EU and its institutions than do citizens of the central and

Table 4.4 Accuracy of knowledge about EU enlargement: (Several countries have already entered the EU, others may enter in the future. What do you think, how likely is it that the following countries will enter the EU in the next five years?)

Entered

Likely

More likely than not

Less likely than not Unlikely

Estonia

22.7%

15.0

9.8

4.4

0.4

47.7

Poland

20.1%

16.1

11.7

4.1

0.6

47.6

Bulgaria

6.7%

16.1

17.2

7.3

1.8

50.7

Ukraine

1.3%

13.5

16.2

17.1

5.6

46.3

Russia

1.5%

19.0

17.1

16.0

7.2

39.2

Hard to say

Correct answer 22.7 (col 1) 20.1 (col 1) 16.1 (col 2) 5.6 (col 5) 7.2 (col 5)

Correct + close to correct 47.5 (col 1+2+3) 47.9 (col 1+2+3) 33.3 (col 2+3) 22.7 (col 4 +5) 23.2 (col 4+5)

Row percentages

Table 4.5 Accuracy of knowledge about EU enlargement by region: Percentages

Accurate answer Estonia Poland Bulgaria Ukraine Russia Accurate and close to accurate Estonia Poland Bulgaria Ukraine Russia

Orlov oblast

NN oblast

Stavropol krai

Overall

19.7 19.3 21.0 10.5 10.6

23.5 22.5 15.0 4.2 8.3

25.0 18.5 12.3 2.2 2.7

22.7 20.1 16.1 5.6 7.2

51.4 52.4 38.3 32.0 27.2

45.7 49.5 33.7 21.9 27.0

45.5 41.5 28.0 14.4 15.2

47.5 47.9 33.3 22.7 23.2


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east European candidate states. In 2006 the Russian-based POF found that 56 per cent of respondents had not previously heard anything about the PCA between the EU and Russia.39 Survey data from the three regions confirm these findings in relation to knowledge about EU enlargement. The survey asked respondents about the status of several former communist countries in relation to current or prospective EU membership. Analysis of the accuracy of responses showed that following the May 2004 enlargement knowledge was fairly low in the regions surveyed, albeit highest in the region closest geographically to the EU (Orlov oblast). Respondents from Nizhegorodskaia oblast are more knowledgeable than residents of Stavropol krai, which has weaker European contacts. Overall, only 23 per cent of respondents knew that Estonia had entered the EU and only 20 per cent knew Poland had entered, whereas 48 per cent were not prepared to hazard a guess on each of these questions. As noted above, 36 per cent of respondents considered it likely or more likely than not that Russia would become a member of the EU within the next five years, while 39 per cent could not answer at all. Only 23 per cent accurately considered this outcome unlikely or more unlikely than not. In terms of self-evaluation, only 19 per cent of respondents indicated that they were very familiar or fairly familiar with EU enlargement, whereas 44 per cent felt familiar with the introduction of the Euro. In sum, respondents in all three areas had fairly limited knowledge about EU enlargement and often had an inaccurate understanding of the degree to which they were accurately informed. Regarding knowledge, the hypothesis is that a more complete and accurate understanding of the EU will be associated with greater support for closer EU–Russia ties. To measure EU knowledge, we created an Index of EU Enlargement Knowledge based on the accuracy of responses to questions about the current and likely membership status (within five years) of Estonia, Poland, Bulgaria and Russia. The index gives full credit for a correct answer and partial credit for an answer close to the correct one. Likewise, one would expect that a positive evaluation of EU enlargement would have the same effect; responses to a survey question about the respondents’ positive or negative assessment of EU enlargement are accordingly included in the regression analysis. As noted above, EU enlargement was a prominent issue at the time of the survey, and it was an issue affecting countries historically close to Russia where many Russians would have friends, colleagues or even relatives. Thus these questions focusing on EU enlargement serve as good indicators of general knowledge and assessments of the EU.

84 The Boundaries of EU Enlargement Table 4.6 Predictors of support for Russian efforts to join the EU summer/fall 2004

Socio-demographics and economic attitudes Age (older) Education (higher) Positive economic prospects for Russia Knowledge and evaluation of the EU Enlargement Knowledge index Positive evaluation of EU enlargement European values Support for the idea of democracy Support for foreign capital Russian interests Closer economic ties to EU helpful to Russia Economic independence will help region R squared

Model 1

Model 2

2.07* 2.02 .19**

2.05 2.02 .13**

.08** .40**

Model 3

2.02 2.05 .07*

Model 4

2.03 2.06* .05

.11** .36**

.13** .26**

.11**

.03

.15**

.08** .41** .04

.04

.20

.23

.37

Ordinary least squares multiple regression, cases with missing data excluded pairwise * significant , .05 level ** significant , .01 level

The third block of variables includes two indicators of European values. The first involves support for the idea of democracy. While democracy may be an ambiguous term in Russia, it is something that both the EU and Putin clearly associate with European values. The second value indicator, i.e., support for investment of foreign capital, measures attitudes toward western market values as opposed to the autarkic position taken in the Soviet period or a more modern protectionist orientation, both of which stand in contrast to the EU’s liberal economic approach to regional integration. This question serves as a surrogate measure of support for the type of regional market integration that the EU stands for, and which is an integral part of the current Europeanization approach. Together these two variables provide an indicator of the respondents’ support for the EU’s underlying economic and political values. Finally, the fourth block of variables relates to Russia’s interests, again consisting of two measures. The first question asks respondents whether


85

greater economic independence for the region in which the respondent lives would help the regional economy; the second asks whether closer economic ties to the EU would help Russia. These two approaches suggest various routes to realizing Russia’s economic interests. Both imply a loosening of control over the economy by the Russian central state, one in the direction of regional (European) integration, and the other in the direction of more regional autonomy within Russia. While the question about European economic integration is of primary importance in this analysis, inclusion of the variable about regional independence within Russia gives us an additional measure of how the respondent believes Russia’s economic interests can be realized, providing a counterpoint to the European integration approach. Based on the regression results, socio-demographic variables do not show a sustained or strong influence on the dependent variable. Only education (a lower level!) has a minimal but statistically significant positive association with support for Russia’s accession efforts once other variables are taken into account. A positive assessment of economic prospects for Russia in the coming year has a positive influence in models one to three, but is not significant when the interest variables are taken into account. Knowledge of EU enlargement and evaluations of it, on the other hand, do have a sustained impact. Those who have a more accurate understanding of EU enlargement are, as hypothesized, more likely to support Russian accession aspirations. Even more important is a respondent’s positive evaluation of the 2004 enlargement. Intuitively, this is not surprising, since viewing the accession of Russia’s former allies to the EU positively might suggest that the same path would also be good for Russia (although this is not Russian state policy). Underlying both of these ideas is a view that European integration does not pose a threat to Russia, but rather an opportunity. It is the next two blocks of variables (i.e., the values and interest variables) that may reinforce this assessment. The impact of European values is significant in the first three models presented in Table 4.6. Those who support the idea of democracy and who support foreign investment in Russia are more likely to support Russian efforts to join the EU. This suggests that sharing values with the EU is associated with support for closer relations, even membership. Since both values are widely distributed in the population (70 per cent of respondents support the idea of democracy, and about 60 per cent support foreign investment at least to some degree), these are potentially important influences on attitudes toward EU–Russia relations. However, in model four, the impact of the democracy question is no longer statistically significant. Once the interest questions are added,

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the democracy ‘value’ loses its power as a predictor of support for Russia’s EU aspiration. The belief that closer ties to the EU will be useful to Russia (or in Russia’s interests) is the most powerful predictor of support for Russia’s EU accession efforts. Since this independent variable is correlated at the .52 level with the dependent variable, it not surprising that its inclusion increases the power of the explanatory model significantly. Its inclusion is, however, important because it permits an examination of the interaction between the respondents’ value and interest assessments. The other variable relating to economic interest, that involving increased regional independence, is not statistically significant, so the issue is not simply one of loosening central state control; rather, it has specifically to do with European integration. Even more significant is the fact that, as noted above, the democracy variable disappears as a significant predictor and the impact of support for foreign investment declines in its predictive power once the interest variable is added. Assessments of economic interests trump value congruity. To be sure, assessments of economic interests are related to political and economic attitudes (with a correlation of .30 level and .28 respectively, in terms of support for the idea of democracy and for foreign investment), so value propositions may affect economic judgments. Nonetheless, these findings suggest that support for closer ties to the EU (even membership) are largely dependent on accurate knowledge about the EU, an overall positive assessment of EU enlargement and a positive judgment about Russia’s interests in relation to the EU; bridging the ‘values gap’ is of considerably less importance. Accordingly, if things go well for the new member states, specifically in the economic sphere, Russians may well draw the conclusion that Russia should seek to be more involved with the EU. If this is the case, then Russians will likely be observing what goes on ‘next door’ when considering options for their own country. The possibility of a ‘contagion’ effect may be a real one even if a values gap remains.

Conclusion Values play a lesser role than judgments about interests in both elite and popular attitudes toward the EU in Russia. Nonetheless, EU leaders continue to point to Russia’s deviations from western values as an obstacle to closer relations. In practice, however, more and more the EU is adapting to Russia’s definition of the ‘rules of the game’. Steps in this process include the EU’s acquiescence to Russian demands to


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be granted a special status among the EU’s European neighbours, acceptance of the relationship with Russia as a ‘strategic partnership’ and a declining application of conditionality as a principle governing the relationship. As the nature of the game shifts from values to interests, the Union will have to rely increasingly on economic incentives and other nourishing ‘carrots’ to ‘Europeanize’ its neighbour. Bargaining, negotiation and compromise will be more important than value proclamations. In its relations with Russia, the EU may well begin to behave more like a traditional international actor acting on the basis of Realpolitik, rather than as a self-defined agent of normative change. While acknowledging Russia as an equal partner has not engendered significant resistance within the EU, de-emphasizing conditionality to achieve value congruence is more controversial. On the one hand, this may be a strategically wise approach, as long as Russia does not seek EU membership, since EU policies that force sub-national elites or the public to choose between the goals stated by their own national leadership and benefits offered by cooperation with the EU could feed resistance to a closer relationship. Incentives to cooperate, on both a regional and central level, will be reinforced to the extent that sovereignty, value difference and Russian domestic political relationships do not become issues of contest. While it seems unlikely that European leaders and institutions will forego comment on Russia’s ‘value’ choices, if these judgments do not lead to concrete sanctions or disincentives, they may be only minimal obstacles to continued EU–Russia engagement, while still gradually and subtly affecting the Russian political environment. Meanwhile, Putin or his successor may continue to pay lip service to European values and dismiss disagreements over Russia’s policies as a reflection of differing contexts and an ‘agreement to disagree’, justified as part of the practice of democratic discourse. The fact that Russian public opinion seems to be driven more by assessments of Russia’s interests than by value positions may also mean that the Russian leadership risks relatively little in proclaiming Russia’s European choice. That choice need not nourish political dissent, as long as that European choice is clearly justified on the basis of Russia’s national interests. Russian insistence on the inviolability of Russia’s national sovereignty may both reinforce Russian pride in its own distinct identity vis-à-vis Europe and also highlight the primacy of interests over values in the relationship. Whether the EU can move beyond traditional state-to-state (or state-to-Union) diplomacy in its desire to Europeanize this particular


European neighbour is doubtful because Russia likely has the economic clout, based on its energy resources, to enforce its preference for interest-based relations in the near to medium future. Of greater uncertainty is whether Putin’s successor will be able to finesse the values question as adeptly as Putin has.

Notes 1. V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 16 May 2003, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2003/05/16/0000_type70029 type82912_44692.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). 2. V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 25 April 2005, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2005/04/25/2031_type70029 type82912_87086.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). 3. V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 10 May 2006, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2005/04/25/2031_type70029 type82912_87086.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). 4. ‘Regulation EC 1638/2006 of the European Parliament and the Council, 24 October 2006, on laying down general provision establishing a European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument’ online, http://ec.europa.eu/ world/enp/pdf/oj_l310_en.pdf (Accessed 9 March 2007). 5. Putin, ‘Annual Address’ (2005). 6. The research was conducted by regional partners in each of the three regions, headed by the Russian field director, Victor Khitrov, who also oversaw the Stavropol survey. In other regions the survey was organized by Irina Chernova (Nizhnni Novgorod) and Vera Uvarova (Orel). The sample size in each region was 600 respondents. The survey involved face-to-face interviews conducted at the respondents’ place of residence. A multi-stage stratified random sampling procedure was utilized, except in Orel (2004) where sampling discrepancies required supplementation by a randomized quota sampled supplement. In 2004 the surveys were carried out in spring, except in Orel (2004), where the sample supplement of additional respondents was carried out in September. In 2004 the Orel sample was weighted for education and student status to assure an accurate reflection of the sampled population. Tables 4.1 to 4.6 rely on data from these surveys. 7. See press releases, ‘Evropeiskaia komissiia ofitsial’no otkryvaet v Orle Biuro Podderzhki Tasis’ [The European Commission officially opens TACIS support office in Orel], 21 November 2003, www.delrus.cec.eu.int/en/news_529.htm (Accessed 14 March 2007). Also announced on the website of the Delegation of the European Commission in Russia ‘Evropeiskaia komissiia ofitsial’no otkryvaet v Nizhnem Novgorode Biuro Podderzhki Tasis’, 4 December 2002 (no longer accessible on-line). 8. Speech by Vladimir Putin, 43rd Munich Conference on Security Policy, l0 February 2007, www.kremlin.ru/appears/2007/02/10/1737_type63374type 63376type63377type63381type82634_118109.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). 9. See M. Light, S. White and J. Löwenhardt, ‘Wider Europe: The View from Moscow and Kyiv’, International Affairs, 76 (2000), pp. 81–2.


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10. See the summary of results of a recent survey undertaken by the EuropeRussia Centre (Brussels) and the Levada Center (Moscow) on 14 February 2007, ‘Russian perceptions of European values’, on-line www.levada.ru/ press/2007021501.html (Accessed 14 March 2007). 11. POF, ‘European Integration and Russia’, 9 June 2005, see the link at http:// bd.english.fom.ru/cat/frontier/blocks/russ_europe; and ‘Russia, the EU, and WTO,’ 20 November 2003, see the link at http://bd.english.fom.ru/cat/frontier/blocks/russ_europe. See also ‘Russian on Europeans and Americans’, 9 June 2005. 12. Public Opinion Foundation, ‘Russia’s Relations with the Leading European Nations’, based on a survey carried out on 3–4 June in 44 regions, with 1500 respondents, plus 600 http://bd.english.fom.ru/cat/frontier/blocks/russ_europe. 13. S. White, M. Light and I. McAllister, ‘Russia and the West: Is there a Values Gap? International Politics, 42 (2005), p. 330. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid., pp. 320–2. 16. Y. Gaidar, ‘The Economic and Political Situation in Eurasia: Why Russia is not Ukraine?’, summary of a talk at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 21 April 2005, online at www.carnegieendowment.org/ events/index.cf m?fa= event Deta il& id=770&& prog=z r u& proj=z npp (Accessed 14 March 2007). 17. C. M. Radaelli, cited in R. Eising, ‘Europäisierung und Integration: Konzepte in der EU-Forschung’, in M. Jachtenfuchs and B. Kohler-Koch, eds, Europäishce Integration, 2nd edn (Opladen: Leske + Budrich, 2003), p. 390. 18. Resolution of the European Parliament, ‘EU–Russian Relations’, www.europarl. e u ropa.e u/sides/get D o c.do? pubRe f= -// E P// T E XT+TA+P6 -TA -2 0 05 0207+0+DOC+XML+V0//EN (Accessed 8 March 2007). 19. European Parliament, ‘Chechnya after the elections and civil society in Russia,’ 19 January 2006, www.europarl.europa.eu/sides/getDoc.do?pubRef=-// EP//TEXT+TA+P6-TA-2006-0026+0+DOC+XML+V0//EN (Accessed 6 March 2007). 20. Benita Ferrero-Waldner, Statement to the European Parliament plenary session, ‘EU-Russia Visa facilitation and readmission agreements’, Strasbourg, 14 February 2007, online at http://europa.eu/rapid/pressReleasesAction.do?r eference=SPEECH/07/80&format=HTML&aged=0&language=EN&guiLang uage=enxxx (Accessed 5 March 2007). 21. See Parliamentary Assembly, Opinion No. 193 (1996) on Russia’s request for membership of the Council of Europe online, http://assembly.coe.int/ Documents/AdoptedText/TA96/Eopi193.htm (Accessed 29 June 2005). 22. R. Bindig, interview, ‘Putin’s “controlled democracy” imperils apportionment of powers in Russia’, www.coe.int/t/e/com/files/interviews/20050621_ interv_bindig.asp#TopOfPage (Accessed 29 June 2005). 23. ‘Russia Fails to Fulfill Council of Europe Commitments – Terry Davis’, MoscNews, 15 May 2005, www.mosnews.com/news/2005/05/15/davisrus. shtml (Accessed 29 June 2005); also Russian-European Center for Economic Policies (RECEP) report for February 2005, www.recep.ru/en/euinpress.php? subaction=showfull&id=1110957720&archive=&start_from=&ucat=17&. 24. Report by D. Atkinson and R. Bindig, ‘Honouring of obligations and commitments by the Russian Federation’, Doc. 10568, 3 June 2005 to the


25.

26.

27. 28. 29.

30.

31. 32.

33.

34.

35. 36.

37. 38. 39.

Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, http://assembly.coe.int/ Documents/WorkingDocs/doc05/EDOC10568.htm (Accessed 29 June 2005). ‘Honouring of obligations and commitments by the Russian Federation’ Resolution 1455 (2005), provisional edition, Parliamentary Assembly, 22 June 2005, http://assembly.coe.int/Main.asp?link=http://assembly.coe. int/Documents/AdoptedText/ta05/ERES1455.htm. Office of the Commission for Human Rights, Council of Europe, ‘Report by Mr. Alvaro Jil-Robles on his visits to the Russian Federation, 15–20 July 2004, 19–29 November, 2004’, www.coe.int/T/E/Commissioner_H.R/ Communication_Unit/Documents/pdf.CommDH%282005%292_E.pdf (Accessed 30 June 2005). Ibid., pp. 90–3, 116. V. Putin, ‘Annual Address’ (2005). For example, in reporting on an upcoming meeting of European and Russian foreign ministers in February 2006, a Commission press release refers to these concerns in an almost perfunctory manner near the end of the release: ‘As usual in meetings with Russia, the EU side will underline the importance it attaches to human rights and fundamental freedoms, in line with the commitments Russia has entered into in the Council of Europe and the OSCE.’, http://europa.eu/rapid/pressReleasesAction.do?refe rence=IP/06/162&format=HTML&aged=0&language=EN&guiLanguage=en (Accessed 14 May 2006). ‘Strategiia razvitiia otnoshenii Rossiskoi Federatsii s Evropeiskim Soiuzom na srednesrochnuiu perspektivy (2000–2010 gody)’, available at the site of the Finnish Presidency of the EU, http://presidency.finland.fi/doc/liite/russiaru.rtf. Ibid., translation by author. V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 8 July 2000, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2000/07/08/0000_type70029 type82912_70658.shtml (Accessed 23 February 2007). V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 2 April 2001, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2001/04/03/0000_type70029 type82912_70660.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 18 April 2002, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2002/04/18/0000_type70029 type82912_70662.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). V. Putin, ‘Annual Address’ (2003). V. Putin, ‘Annual Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation’, 26 May 2004, www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2004/05/26/1309_type70029 type82912_71650.shtml (Accessed 14 March 2007). V. Putin, ‘Annual Address’ (2005). V. Putin, ‘Annual Address’ (2006). Public Opinion Foundation, ‘Russia, Poland and the EU’, survey 2–3 December 2006, http://bd.english.fom.ru/report/cat/frontier/blocks/ russ_europe/etb064811 (Accessed 14 March 2007). The website provides a detailed description of methodology and the sampling frame. Surveys are based on a nation-wide sample of 1500 respondents in 44 regions, using multi-stage stratified random sampling in the place of residence; a separate


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sample of 600 respondents in Moscow is also included. This is a similar sampling method to the one we used, however our survey was limited to three regions. The POF website is at http://bd.english.fom.ru/ and survey data on Russian and Europe is at http://bd.english.fom.ru/cat/frontier/ blocks/russ_europe.

5 Regulatory Convergence and Global Partnership: Another Phase in EU–Russian Relations* Helena Rytövuori-Apunen

Introduction Regulatory dialogue is a key policy instrument of the ‘Road Maps’ shaping the EU–Russia partnership. Guidelines for establishing a set of dialogues in relevant fields include: setting up a formal framework, determining the areas and sectors for the harmonization of legislation and practices, determining priorities, and identifying procedures for conformity assessment, including systems of quality assessment. Regulatory convergence of policies and strategies is the instructive principle and expected outcome. The four spaces provide horizons of action, and long-term goals are defined by the ‘single’ areas – among these a free trade area and visa freedom – outlining a vision of ‘Europe without dividing lines’.1 Although the process, in its concrete goals, is open-ended, it entails an unarticulated rationality, which policy texts paraphrase as ‘the best internationally recognized practices’. Regulatory convergence is a technical term for making parts of the Russian economy complementary with the European Union’s (EU) norms and institutions – ‘Europeanization’ and ‘globalization’ are its more politically loaded synonyms. While convergence is logically about the interfaces and conformity between two systems, regulatory convergence in the EU–Russia context entails a

* This paper is part of the research project ‘New and Old Russia in the Transition Discourses of Finnish-Russian Relationships’, which participates in the Academy of Finland research programme ‘Russia in Flux’. Special thanks to Corinna Wolff at the University of Tampere. 92

Regulatory Convergence and Global Partnership

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direction based on the logic of the EU’s enlargement as a political value community – although the conclusion to what extent and how successfully European political values can be planted in Russian soil is an open question and an outcome dependent on the process. Optimistic assessments emphasize that Russia has signed on to the basic partnership values – democracy, rule of law, and principles of market economy – and has never contested them. The question is how best to help Russia move toward the realization of these ideas. This chapter argues that expecting Russia to commit itself to the value community proposed by the EU is not only naïve, but also pragmatically counterproductive in the present situation. At the same time, it has become clear amid negotiations on the new Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) that political conditions are no longer the same as they were when the first Partnership Agreement was negotiated in the 1990s. During the tumultuous aftermath of the breakdown of the Soviet Union, Russia did not object to – and therefore can be argued to have implicitly accepted – the conditionality that tied financial contribution to institutional reform. In hindsight, the World Bank system’s developmentalism did not work in Russia: contributions were welcomed, but the principle of conditionality often was not heeded, and particularistic interests were let loose when central control vanished. Russian President Vladimir Putin’s policies for the reconstitution of the state have sought to correct these tendencies and, through the mechanism of the ‘power vertical’, to prevent western normative schemes, with their regional approaches, from undermining the unity of Russia. By 2005, representatives of Russian foreign policy were ready to emphasize that making relations with Russia dependent on how the reforms advance had been a ‘mistake in principle’ on the part of the EU and the United States, as the contributions were not directed at supporting serious reforms.2 Russia has also made it clear that it is ‘neither an object, nor the subject’ of the EU’s Neighbourhood Policies.3 Meanwhile, Putin’s actions to limit the autonomy of the federal subjects, increasing the control over western NGOs, the Yukos affair and measures to control the media have led to intensified concerns in the West about authoritarian and autocratic policies. On both sides of the border there is now serious doubt whether convergence of political values – the development of democracy and the rule of law – is possible in the foreseeable future. In spite of the scepticism, the quest for mutual cooperation lingers on. Gaining access to the European market and inviting European money to contribute to Russia’s economic recovery have been key elements in Putin’s policies for reconfiguring Russian national power


since the beginning of his term of office in 2000. The EU’s growing dependency on Russian gas, oil and, in the case of northern Europe, perhaps also electricity has been repeatedly highlighted in policy documents and the media. Starting with the notion that cooperation, in the long perspective, is determined by mutual economic interest, the EU faces the question of how to advance its political values in a situation in which the ‘pedagogical’ approach of the immediate post-Soviet years has lost its rationality. How can economic and social interdependencies be created in ways that will also facilitate the development of democratic institutions in Russia? One approach argues for the use of ‘new forms of soft power’, but this approach either offers a limited perspective extrapolating from an idea of coercive power predominant in the North-American discourse on international relations, or is meaningless when power is simply synonymous with influence and attraction.4 A more fruitful point of departure is to look at the actual policy dialogue between the two parties. Russia has signed on to the shared values of the partnership, while emphasizing the necessity of applying the ideals on the basis of the needs of Russian society and against the background of Russian traditions. ‘Democracy is not a potato’ that can be transplanted from one place to another, Minister of Defence Sergey Ivanov has famously argued. Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov has similarly emphasized that although ‘there is no alternative to democracy and the market as key foundations of social development’, the ‘speed and forms of transformations should be predicated on the specific conditions of a particular country’.5 Russian leaders have stated the intention to develop relations with the EU in a future-oriented manner, pragmatically and based on common values. Sharing words without necessarily sharing their meaning is a basic technique of diplomacy. Without it the winners of the Second World War in Yalta in 1945 would not have been able to talk about democracy, and the Helsinki Act of the Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) (predecessor of the present Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe [OSCE]) in 1975 would also not have been possible. In the contemporary situation of EU–Russia relations, it is also interesting to note that both parties speak about the ‘normalization’ of their mutual relations, yet with a difference: while the EU terminology speaks about a shift from the specific aid-oriented post-Soviet approach to normal sectoral cooperation, Russia refers to interaction between sovereign entities and expresses the desire to be treated as a normal (sovereign) state. Rather than defined common values, Russia emphasizes the ‘constructive work on the four spaces’ and the ‘development


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of a new legal basis for the relations’.6 While the EU depoliticizes and treats as ‘low politics’ what has already been politically defined (through the overall EU scheme), Russia’s approach toward the multilateral EU is the opposite: to make political – i.e., declare as a Russian interest – what the EU proposes to treat as ordinary issues to be solved in the working order of its bodies. Examples are the issues relating to the rights of the Russian population in Estonia, Latvia and Kaliningrad, and also the recent reformulation of the Northern Dimension policies. The Northern Dimension, formulated from the Finnish initiative proposed in 1997, is to be an integral part of the four spaces. The point of departure for Russian policies is that the Northern Dimension is a ‘regional realization of the EU–Russia global partnership’ and includes also Norway, Iceland and even Belarus.7 The evolution of policies shows how the Russian response to the EU’s regional and functional cooperation brings the meaning of mutual cooperation to the level of cooperation between sovereign entities and interprets it in a(n ever) more global context, in this way positioning Russia as a world political actor. The mechanism of diplomatic language for creating an initial consensus also explains why the quasi-rational language about the means of the cooperation (basically a professional western project management terminology) is so dominant in the Road Maps and other policy documents on EU–Russian cooperation. Agreeing about the means without knowing about the ends is a sign of the political willingness to cooperate – a strategic choice and a long-term perspective. The notion of the vehicle is preliminarily shared, but a joint plan as to where the road is to take the passengers remains elusive. Market mechanisms are an element that Russia arguably has accepted; Russian leaders have also clearly communicated preparedness to build up the normative consensus of the international community concerning the principles of a free market. Like the United States, Russian spokespersons refer to the liberal freedoms – freedom of trade and economic activity, freedom of the seas – where they serve Russian interests. But unlike the United States, Russia openly declares ‘national interest’ as the point of departure for its policies. Rather than examining the four spaces as new schemes of cooperation to be implemented, this chapter explores controversial issues which, already for some time, have been subject to a policy dialogue between the two parties and which would give concrete substance to the four spaces. The purpose is to clarify how normative consensus and convergence of interests might take shape in the actual interactive practices between the two parties. The focus is on Russian responses to EU policies in two areas: first, central to economic cooperation are energy and transit issues;

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a second set of issues relates to borders – freedom of movement and security – which are integral to economic cooperation and position the powers in relation to each other. The opposed strategies of interpreting issues as ‘low’ versus ‘high’ politics – that is, as questions of functional cooperation versus national interest and strategic decision – provide heuristic points of departure for reviewing the EU–Russia policy dialogue beyond the level of political declarations. One purpose of the study is to provide a more realistic assessment of the EU’s policies toward Russia as a vehicle for enhancing democratic development – an issue of considerable importance for the EU’s identity as a political value community. A new outline for the EU’s Russian ‘project’ is necessary, but this does not mean one should throw the baby out with the bath water. In the EU, there is growing awareness that Putin’s Russia is very different from that of former President Boris Yeltsin’s. A wake-up call in this respect is the growing reliance on bilateral cooperation in energy issues between Russia and Germany in particular, as well as other bilateral arrangements that have materialized when multilateral solutions have been slow to emerge. The Commission conceives Russo–German cooperation (importantly the Northern European Gas Pipeline project) as complementary to EU multilateral policies toward Russia. Critics have argued, however, that such bilateral agreements undermine the leverage of those policies. Furthermore, a gap seems to be emerging between the interestoriented approach of the Commission, on the one hand, and a principled normative approach of European ‘civil society’ represented by the media, NGOs and the EU’s parliamentary bodies, on the other hand. By suggesting a dichotomy between values and interests, and also between ‘words’ and ‘deeds’, this gap increases the psychological distance of the EU’s domestic audiences from the policy-making bodies in Brussels. Rather than viewing political language as mainly manipulative, it is also important to understand how international and foreign policy discourse constructs partnership and community between Russia and the EU. The analysis draws from the basic insights of the so-called ‘new rhetoric’ by arguing that form (words) and content are mutually constitutive.8 Accordingly, the normative boundaries of our world – political identities, conceptions of international community and so on – are outlined by the regularities of rhetorical strategies in serious speech acts. From the point of view of this analysis, the serious acts are the institutionally authorized statements of foreign and international policies, which make (rather than describe) policies and positions in international interaction and have the practical consequences which distinguish them from mere symbolic representation.9


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There is a pragmatic thrust to this approach. Russian efforts to be recognized as a reliable international partner (not only as an energy supplier) and a respected member of the international community signal an opportunity for building up long-term cooperation and stability across the EU’s external borders. Many commentators and leaders in the EU and the United States have not been sufficiently open to listening to what Russia really has to offer as a basis for an initial consensus. Philosophers such as R. Rorty and H.-G. Gadamer offer a corrective by arguing that the metaphors of the ‘eye’ and the ‘ear’ stand for two different ways of knowing. The modernist (Cartesian) ‘I see (I vision)’ opposes the older (scholastic) tradition of listening, which, for example, in the German language connects etymologically with ‘respect’ (hören, cf. honour).10 Serious dialogue requires also this last-mentioned notion, even when dialogue is not based on consensus, but, instead, entails a promise about convergence of different interests and the concrete meanings of values.

Imperatives of economic cooperation In this analysis, political identity and the notion of international community, by extension, are examined by focusing on statements about demands, expectations, and objects of identification. Demands relate to goals and states of affairs argued for and against, about preferences and aversions. Expectations are about tendencies and developments as they have occurred and are predicted to occur without any active interference on the part of the speaker – a sort of ‘meteorology’ of international relations from an observer point of view. Identification is about primary symbols (we/us) and secondary symbols (what is ‘ours’ – people, territorial and cultural objects). These tools are borrowed from H. D. Lasswell’s symbolic interpretation, which Lasswell used for explaining collective identity and political myth.11 Here, these three dimensions are applied for analyzing the arguments of Russian foreign policy and the ways of constructing Russian participation in world politics in statements responding to European policies. Energy deposits are Russia’s emerging international assets and power components. Russia is the largest exporter of gas worldwide and ranked second or third in oil during the post-Soviet years. Representatives of Russian foreign policy have repeatedly emphasized this ‘objective basis’ for EU–Russia energy cooperation. Furthermore, the volume of Russian energy exports will likely rise in the coming decades, depending on the pace with which the main alternative, the North Sea resources, is exhausted and whether entirely new sources will be found. Construction


of ports and pipelines, especially the Russo-German Northern European Gas Pipeline (NEGP), are symbols of growth and new economic strength. They also contribute to the realization of Russia’s concrete economic goals and to the revival of national prestige. The main bottlenecks for Russia’s growth in the energy sector are the need to improve the transport infrastructure and to secure free and effective transport.12 Resolving these bottlenecks requires decreasing dependency on the ‘blackmail’ of ‘politically unstable transit states’.13 Poland and the Baltic States have argued both for the maintenance of the land routes by which they gain revenues and for some leverage over Russian export traffic. Russia hopes that these controversies remain ‘superficial incidents’ in the EU–Russia context and has emphasized every state’s right to pursue economic efficiency and to diversify transport routes.14 Vladimir Yakunin, the Head of Russian Railways, a listed stock exchange company, states the intention clearly: ‘We will increase this competition. Russian and Western investors should have no illusions regarding our plans. And we will win in this competition.’15 Russia’s advice to neighbouring transit states is to depoliticize their thinking and make their land routes attractive to Russian companies – and also to catch up with the European states in maintaining ‘standards of international behaviour’.16 Free competition receives its meaning not only from the market, but also the rivalry and race which, during the Cold War, was ideologically justified and, in contemporary Russia, has a strong national context. This aspiration, together with the feeling of being unjustifiably – especially in the sub-regional Baltic context – an object of politically motivated criticism is the background for expectations that European policies apply ‘double standards’ to Russia. Hence, argumentation to the effect that Russian economic activities in the Baltic Sea are ecologically hazardous is often supposedly directed toward undermining Russia’s competitive capability. Policies and practices are defended by emphasizing that Russia fulfils global international standards such as the requirements of the IMO.17 Freedom of economic activity, paralleled by the traditional freedom of the seas, is the declared principle, and the legitimate constraint of activity exists only in the agreed norms of international law. Legality of conduct is the constitutive principle of international community and the rule by which Russia is prepared to play.18 The emphasis of universally accepted rules and standards serves the purpose of making international relations more predictable and strengthens the claim of legitimacy of Russian policies. Arguably, traditional international law, which recognizes sovereign equality as the basis of


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the international community, to an extent compensates for a lack of feeling of political recognition. Under Putin’s leadership, national interest is the unquestionable point of departure for foreign policy. This policy line is best described as realist pragmatism.19 Realism means that national interest aimed at the reconstitution of state power is the normative guideline, and pragmatism emphasizes that different options are weighted in the light of this interest. On this basis, the policy advocating economic and transit freedoms is evoked where it serves specific state interests. Russia also articulated that freedom of economic activity and the protection of Russian agriculture (e.g. in the context of World Trade Organization [WTO] negotiations) are in its national interest. The circumstantial calculation also means that Russian interests in Europe can be compensated for by building relations in Asia – for example, the energy dialogue with Europe can be paralleled and contested by a similar opening with industrializing China. Strategic flexibility in the determination of interest is also known as ‘multivectoral’ policies. With this point of departure, it is unthinkable that Russia should subsidize the European and transatlantic approaches of the states formerly part of the Soviet Union. Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov has stressed that Russia has no obligation to deliver energy to Ukraine at below-market prices. The ‘old, nostalgic Commonwealth’ has, allegedly, been replaced by policies that treat all states as ‘equal and truly sovereign’.20 The borderline that Russia drew with Ukraine under the presidency of Viktor Yushchenko signalled a decision to place that country outside of what H. Bull calls a solidarist circle of states; until recently, Belarus was an example of a country inside the circle, but conflicts in early 2007 over energy costs and transit seem to have placed that in question. The solidarist concept means that policies can be justified by referring to common substantive goals and shared values. By contrast, a pluralist international society is based on reciprocally accepted ‘rules of the road’.21 Keeping contracts is a constitutive procedural principle of international law, and the reputation of being an unreliable partner is especially harmful to economic relations within this framework. Western criticism of Russia’s Ukraine policy has made it necessary for Russia to argue, in the strongest possible terms, that ‘Russia is a safe partner, and never, not even in the most difficult periods of her economic development, did she let her partners in Europe down’.22 The trade war with Belarus – as Russia’s Deputy Economic and Trade Minister Andrei Sharonov commented to the media – signalled a reconstitution of the Soviet-style solidarist relationship to suit the new


geo-economic rationalities of Russian policies. The abrupt stoppage of oil delivery through the 2500-mile ‘Druzhba’ (‘Friendship’) pipeline in Belarus in January 2007 further damaged Russia’s image in the West. Contrary to the calculations of President Alexander Lukashenko, Russia demonstrated its coercive power in the bilateral dispute at the cost of harming its reputation in the West. This cost was openly admitted by Sharonov, who explained the temporary suspension of oil exports via the Druzhba pipeline as force majeure.23 Russia is well aware that recognition as a reliable economic partner and as a state respecting internationally agreed norms is necessary for the success of its European orientation and economic policies. The former German Chancellor Gerhard Schröder is among those who have emphasized Russia’s reliability as an energy supplier; the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Russia (MID) claims that the Finnish Foreign Minister takes the same view.24 For Russia, such statements play an important part in the performative acts of good neighbourly relations. The damage caused by the commercial dispute with Minsk was not ignored, but Russia also knew that the EU would not be sympathetic to Lukashenko’s Soviet-style economy. While the free market and lower prices for the consumers are Russia’s argumentative weapons in the normative discourse, claims about unpredictability and risk are Russia’s greatest vulnerabilities. Given the Russian interest in improving its image regarding performance, the legal, economic and social infrastructure needed for a stable increase in economic interaction is an argument the EU can emphasize in its normative policies toward Russia. Instead of sanctions (which are the basis of ‘soft power’), the success of EU policies depends on how effectively it can appeal to and find resonance in Russian policies and their background discourses. On the declaratory level, Russia has agreed to common values, while pointing out that the EU’s policies are not consistent with their own premises. In particular, the ‘Baltic apartheid’ – i.e., standards different for Russians ‘just because they are Russians’25 – contrasts with the EU’s concerns about minority rights in the Balkans and the interests of notably Finland, Hungary and Estonia in dealing with the rights of historical minorities in Russia. The presidential envoy for relations with the EU, Sergey Jastrzhembskiy, considers the status of Russian ‘non-citizens’ in Latvia and Estonia to be ‘first of all, the EU’s problem, not ours’.26 The issue, arguably the most sensitive question in Russia’s relations with the EU, is posed as undermining the credibility of the EU as a normative community. In the Russian domestic context, there is an abundance of commentary questioning the consistency of the EU’s policies as a value community.27


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The basic problem in the EU’s relations with Russia today is that the EU assumes a common structure of values which is actually its own selfprojection. A pluralist concept of the relationship – of an international society between the EU and Russia – offers a more realistic point of departure, also for policies seeking to facilitate democratic development. In fact, diplomatic and cultural sensitivity demands recognition of Russia’s quest for ‘equal partnership’. Furthermore, democracy cannot be ‘taught’ or imposed; institutional reform based on an external set of values may not resonate with the deep-seated moral attitudes of the society and, thus, remain superficial and open to abuse. Thus, the pluralist notion of international society, which M. Wight metaphorically explains as based on the experience of the ‘merchant’ (rather than the ‘soldier’ or the ‘human rights activist’), can provide a working reference point.28 President Putin sees the NEGP as a vehicle for Russia’s engagement with its European partners. While European companies are allowed to extract gas in Russia, Russian partners gain access to the European networks of distribution.29 For Russia, economic cooperation that facilitates the country’s industrialization and technological capabilities corrects the ‘neocolonial’ division of labour in which Russia remains a supplier of raw materials.30 In the same vein, educational projects that bring industrial and technological know-how are more appealing to Russia than invitations to participate in the construction of European education ‘spaces’ that promote normative values.31 Such ‘win-win’ approaches that involve the exchange of practical capabilities create interdependencies at the same time that partners realize their own goals. Border issues are another potential area important in achieving this type of economic cooperation and partnership.

Boundaries of identity and bordering the powers An agreement in principle about moving toward a visa-free regime was reached at the EU–Russia summit in May 2003; facilitated visa procedures were later agreed to be the first step. Russia signed bilateral agreements regarding facilitated visa procedures with Germany and France in late 2003 and during 2004, and the issue was also on the agenda of Russian–Italian relations. The European Commission linked further progress on the issue to a full readmission agreement, which created a political deadlock until the spring of 2006. This linkage generated expressions of frustration from the Russian side, for both procedural and substantive reasons. Jastrzhembskiy, representing the Russian viewpoint, argued that fears that a visa-free regime would open doors for

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illegal immigration are exaggerated. He noted that, contrary to the expectations in the EU that people would ‘jump off trains to stay in Lithuania’, not a single readmission case has occurred in connection with the Kaliningrad arrangement.32 Speaking in October 2005, Jastrzhembskiy acknowledged ‘an absolute understanding that the EU is right’ in its requirement that Russia needs to first solve the readmissions problem at its southern borders. At the same time, Russia was not ready for a comprehensive arrangement but proposed a partial readmission agreement (responsibility for one’s own nationals only) as the first step. In May 2006, Russia signed an agreement which – within three years from entering into force – realizes full readmission. Throughout this process, Russia communicated a principled readiness for agreement and an understanding of the EU’s concerns. The EU’s normative requirements also relate to conflict spots on Russia’s borders and to Chechnya. The latter issue has, apparently, not hindered efforts to reach agreement on visa questions; furthermore, the EU has also allotted € 20 million for the reconstruction of Chechnya. The diplomatic restraint shown by the EU in relation to Chechnya may reflect progress in the reconstruction of the region and an understanding that global terrorist threats may be extending into the Caucasus region.33 President Putin has repeatedly emphasized that ‘the plague of the twenty-first century’ did not begin on 11 September 2001 and that many Russians wonder why terrorist actions in Russian cities, which have taken many lives, do not in Europe receive attention similar to that given to explosions in Madrid and London. Disputably, ‘double standards’ are in use when asylum in the EU member states and the US is given to people whom Russia considers terrorists.34 Russian diplomacy in other areas reflects its efforts to realize a more plurivocal concert of powers. In the post-Soviet states of central Asia and the Caucasus region, Russia accepts the legitimacy of ‘the reasonable interests of the EU and the US’ – interests connected to the fight against terrorism and access to energy sources. However, ‘we would like the means of advancing these interests to be transparent and understandable ..., and [to] recognize the legality [‘zakonnost’] of our interests in the territories, which are in the direct proximity of our borders, and which fifteen years ago constituted the same country as the Russian Federation’.35 The format of international peacekeeping in the frozen conflicts of South Ossetia, Abkhasia, Nagorno-Karabakh and Transnistria is an issue which Russia is closely watching in order to secure its interests.36 Russia’s emphasis on the differing interests conveys the message that Russia’s relationship with the EU is separate from its policies in the Commonwealth


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of Independent States area and the post-Soviet space beyond the Union’s borders.37 An emphasis of mutual sensitivity and recognition of spheres of interest in EU–Russian relations suggests a notion of power politics as politics of powers, which has its historical sources in the late nineteenth century continental European ‘Machtpolitik’ associated with the ‘Iron Chancellor’ Otto von Bismarck. A parallel between Putin’s foreign policies and this historical approach of ‘Machtpolitik’ is evidenced in the use of alliance politics and power blocs to prevent isolation and reduce the likelihood of open conflicts with other major powers.38 For example, in the Caucasus and in central Asia, Russia recognizes the ‘reasonable interests’ of the EU and the United States (US) but signals that its reaction will be strong should Georgia become a base for extending NATO’s influence toward areas of Russia’s strategic interest. A parallel to Bismarck’s policies is that this notion of power stands in contrast to expansionist ‘Welt(macht)politik’, which has a missionary element based on the notion of a great power character. Russia’s aspirations for recognition as a world political power are partly instrumental, with important economic aspects, but also entail a strong element of status and prestige. Russia, much like the Soviet Union during its détente, seeks a position of parity with the US; this time, however, within a broader circle of leading powers, including the EU. Russia’s present world political agenda is basically conservative. Goals include the maintenance of stability, joining forces against terrorism, and strengthening Russia’s international position by developing economic and defence capabilities. Putin’s policies are a mixture of regionally focused ‘Machtpolitik’ (Europe–Asia), alongside a limited sense of ‘Weltpolitik’ that emphasizes prestige and Russia’s rightful place among the world’s largest powers. We will now turn to the bilateral Russo-German energy project, which is an example of the type of initiative that might serve as a locomotive in the gradual implementation of an EU–Russian free trade area (the single economic area agreed on at the EU–Russia Summit in May 2003), for which serious negotiations can begin after Russia has gained WTO membership.

The strategic vision: One step back, two forward The Russo-German North European Gas Pipeline consortium (NEGP) was founded in September 2005, bringing together the Russian company Gazprom (51 per cent of the shares) and two companies dominating the

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German gas market, E.ON Ruhrgas and BASF/Wintershall (each with 24.5 per cent of the shares). The German companies are structurally interlinked with Gazprom through shareholding and joint ventures, and energy companies from Norway, France and Finland are also involved in the consortium. The 1200 kilometre undersea pipeline – the first of its kind from Russia to Germany – should be in use in 2010. Onethird of German oil imports and a little more than one-third of German gas imports come from Russia; gas consumption is also rising. For Russia, the NEGP is a symbol of growing international economic strength. Within the framework of the NEGP, Gazprom plans to branch out into Poland, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom and even Ireland.39 Energy pipelines and grids symbolizing Russia’s interconnectedness with Europe are also under construction in the Black Sea area (oil) and across the Gulf of Bothnia to Sweden (electricity). In Europe, particularly in Germany, the image of the NEGP has floundered due to Gerhard Schröder’s role in the project. In late 2005, Schröder (then the outgoing Chancellor) was nominated – and, in practice, already selected – as chairperson of the board of the Russo-German company. Earlier in the autumn, he had arranged a German state guarantee for an investment project worth € 4-5 billion to be realized outside of the territory of Germany. Schröder’s much-publicized personal friendship with Putin and the lack of transparency in the process led critics to charge that the project contradicted democratic values at home, as well as efforts to promote democracy in Russia. Critics in Poland – the country that loses most from the abandonment of overland transit – called the project the ‘Schröder-Putin Pact’, suggesting an analogy with the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of 1939. They argued that the project distributes future shares of economically smaller states to the larger powers.40 Schröder, on the other hand, has emphasized that NEGP serves the aim of creating ‘an energy alliance’ between the EU and Russia.41 Indeed, it seems plausible to identify parallels between the NEGP and the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) founded in 1951 by France, West Germany, Italy and the Benelux countries.42 In that case, energy resources were pooled in a strategically important field between parties that were adversaries during the previous war. After the Second World War, the ECSC meant reconciliation between Germany and France, both of whom had an interest in the Ruhr region. Russia and (former West) Germany were adversaries during the Cold War, and both share an interest in the Siberian gas fields. To be sure, the transnationalization of business reflected in the NEGP does differ from the


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embryonic federalism of the ECSC; however, the ECSC did create the dynamism needed for a peace project between countries recently emerging from an era of international conflict. This parallel may suggest that such large-scale economic endeavours are helpful in improving political relations, particularly when other efforts have failed. Strong economic interest, as Jean Monnet envisioned,43 can generate breakthroughs where development otherwise is blocked by ideas of sovereignty and diverse concepts of identity. Although it is hardly realistic to predict that, within the next decades, there will be a common free gas market with freely set prices and without import/export duties or subsidies, it is historically significant that it is now Russia that argues for a free market. ‘Europe without borders’ has taken on a concrete meaning in this context. Like the earlier ECSC, the approach underlying the NEGP reflects a functional approach (i.e., cooperation built on practical achievements) rather than a supranationalist decision-making approach (i.e., an emphasis on developing common institutions). In this context, EU policies may focus on building the infrastructure needed to create the legal and social basis for long-term economic cooperation. The challenge for multilateral policies is to facilitate societal reliability, which is a precondition for functioning economic cooperation and is needed particularly when strategic fields such as energy are involved. The commercial dispute between Russia and Belarus in early 2007 shows how bilateral conflicts can endanger wider European cooperation. Resolution of conflicts in the post-Soviet space is in the political interest of the EU, especially when its energy security and vital economic interests are involved. Joint projects with co-funding and joint decision-making structures, mobility schemes and internship arrangements can be identified by using the technical ‘Road Maps’. Guidelines for responsible entrepreneurship and good partnership practices are among the policy tools. Here we return to the concept of ‘regulatory convergence’, which refers to activities that have a low political profile but simultaneously create organic links with ‘spill-over’ or ramification effects. Although no doubt difficult to realize in a market context, such an incremental approach is politically more realistic than the ‘pedagogical’ approach based on efforts to spread political values. Perhaps the EU, in the enthusiasm of the Soviet collapse, too quickly adopted a normative approach, which, ultimately, it does not have the means to implement and which is too closely modelled on NATO’s normative turn. Although justifiable within the EU, this policy undermines the pluralism outside EU borders,

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which is also an important element of the ‘European’ tradition and an important foundation for its relationship with Russia.

Conclusion: The big scheme is dead – long live the idea! Russia’s Deputy Foreign Minister Alexander Grushko suggested in late autumn 2005 that his country would have been quite different had the West taken a different approach, namely support for the Russian leadership’s efforts to establish a market economy, to rebuild society, and to remove barriers to trade, education and travel.44 The deputy minister’s argument seems to be aimed at legitimating Putin’s policies, i.e., it is not primarily a claim about past events as such. Simultaneously, it points to a certain failure of western policies and reminds us that there still, today, is no credible alternative to the approaches adopted in the immediate aftermath of the breakdown of the Soviet Union. The chapter has made a case for the potential of communication and ‘listening’ (as respect); these practices enhance possibilities for harmonization at the interfaces of practices affecting the EU and Russia. Communicative interfaces cannot open if the problems and grievances articulated by one party are not heard or acknowledged to exist, and, in such cases, not only the problem, but also the position to speak is denied. For example, an obvious ‘non-starter’ for communication between Russia and the EU is the proposition that the status of the Russian population in the Baltic countries has ‘already been solved’.45 The effect of popular and media reactions in Russia, which are often laced with ironic and sarcastic remarks about Europe’s hollow values, should not be underestimated in their capability to generate unfavourable attitudes toward European cooperation. A positive image of the EU in Russia would be a critical asset in advancing democratic development in that country. Generating such an image requires the endorsement of measures that decrease the barriers to movement and that increase options in education, work and leisure. Criticism of Putin’s authoritarian measures often contributes to anti-EU sentiments without actually promoting democratic development. From the EU’s point of view, cooperation based on economic interests through trans-national business cooperation can be a fruitful, if incremental, approach. For those who are not primarily interested in normative policies, the instrumentalist thrust of this strategy is easy to justify: shared economic interests with Russia will reduce the likelihood that Russia will turn away politically.


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Notes 1. At the St. Petersburg Summit in May 2003, the EU and Russia agreed to create four ‘Common Spaces’ in the framework of the Partnership and Cooperation Agreement. The Moscow Summit in May 2005 adopted Road Maps for the Common Economic Space, the Common Space of Freedom, Security and Justice, the Common Space of External Security, and the Common Space on Research and Education, including Cultural Aspects. 2. Deputy Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation A. Grushko, Interview to RIA-Novosti Agency, 22 November 2005. 3. Deputy Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation Vladimir Chizhov at the 11th Session of the Russian-Finnish Intergovernmental Group on Development of the Adjacent Regions, Moscow, 2 February 2005. 4. See, for example, Friends of Europe Evening Debate Report, ‘Defining Europe’s “Soft Power” ’, 25 April 2006, http://www.friendsofeurope.org. 5. Minister of Defence Sergey Ivanov, 5 February 2005, in connection with an international security conference in Munich; Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov, ‘Russia in Global Politics’, Moscow News, 3 March 2005; Interview of Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov to the BBC, Moscow, 10 November 2005. 6. Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the European Communities in Brussels Vladimir Chizhov, ‘Meeting the Demands of a Special Relationship’, The European Voice, 23 February 2006. 7. Deputy Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation Vladimir Chizhov, cited above on 2 February 2005; Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov, Ministerial Conference on the Northern Dimension, Brussels, 21 November 2005 (speech and answers to the media). 8. C. Perelman, The Realm of Rhetoric (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1982). 9. J. L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962); John R. Searle, The Construction of Social Reality. Middlesex: Allen Lane, 1995. 10. R. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (Princeton and New York: Princeton University Press, 1980); H.-G. Gadamer, Philosophical Hermeneutics, D. E. Linge, ed. and transl. (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1976). 11. H. D. Lasswell, Daniel Lerner & Ithiel de Sola Pool, The Comparative Study of Symbols: An Introduction (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1952). 12. Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the European Communities in Brussels Vladimir Chizhov, interview for Russia media in Brussels, 26 September 2005; Minister for Industry and Energy of the Russian Federation V. Khristenko, interview in Rossiiskaia gazeta, 10 April 2006. 13. Head of the Russian Federation Duma International Affairs Committee Konstantin Kosachev, ‘Dictate of Incompetence’, Russia in Global Politics, 4:1 (2006). 14. Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the European Communities in Brussels Vladimir Chizhov, cited above on 26 September 2005; President Putin, cited above on 4 October 2005; Representative of the


15. 16. 17.

18.

19.

20. 21.

22. 23.

24.

25. 26. 27.

presidential administration of the Russian Federation M. Kolerov, conference on ‘Baltic Transit and Economic Security’, St Petersburg, 27 October 2005. Head of the Open-Stock Company Russian Railway Vladimir Yakunin, press conference in St. Petersburg, 23 December 2005. President of the Russian Union of Businessmen and Industrialists A. Shokhin, interview to Portnews Agency, 27 October 2005. Head of the Russian Federation Duma Committee for Energy, Transport and Communications V. Jazev, press conference in Moscow, 13 December 2005; President of the Russian Union of Businessmen and Industrialists A. Shokhin, cited above on 27 October 2005. The legality argument becomes problematic if Finland and Estonia use their legal right to extend their territorial waters from the present 6 to 12 nautical miles and, in this way, create a situation in which part of the undersea pipeline project would be on the territory of either of them. Presently, Russia seems to trust that Finland will not resort to such an unfriendly act and that Estonia, in turn, cannot do it while the border issue with Russia remains unsettled – luckily for Russia’s interests in this question, the Estonian parliament tied its own hands by blocking the ratification of the border agreement in June 2005. See, for example, the speech by E. Soroko, Head of the Vyborg and Visotsk Sea Port Administration at the Leningrad Region’s Sea Council, 16 December 2005; Novye izvestiia, 19 December 2005; Regnum News Agency, 13 September 2005. By using this term, one can argue that ‘pragmatic realism’, which suggests a flexible application of realist principles, is not an adequate description. Realist pragmatism is a circumstantial prudence which instructs action in the light of an ideal goal, very much in the fashion the realist classic H. J. Morgenthau prescribed in his Politics Among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1973 [1948]). Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov, cited above on 3 March 2005. H. Bull, ‘The Grotian Conception of International Society’, in H. Butterfield and M. Wight, eds, Diplomatic Investigations: Essays in the Theory of International Politics (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1966). President Putin, press conference in London in connection with the EU–Russia Summit, 4 October 2005. ‘Europe Caught in Middle of Russia–Belarus Oil Dispute’, 9 January 2007, www.EurActive.com ; T. Parfitt, ‘Belarus Cuts Off Russian Pipeline in Bitter Gas War’, The Guardian, 9 January 2007; Associated Press, ‘Russia Says It Has Been Forced To Halt Oil Exports to Europe via Belarus’, International Herald Tribune, 8 January 2007. Der Spiegel, 29 November 2004, p. 24; Remarks and Replies to Media Questions by Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation Sergey Lavrov following his meeting with Finnish Minister for Foreign Affairs Erkki Tuomioja, Moscow, 20 June 2006. Head of the International Affairs Committee of the Russian Federation Duma, Konstantin Kosachev op. cit. 2006. S. Jastrzhembskiy, interview for the radio station ‘Echo of Moscow’, 11 October 2005. For example Konstantin Kosachev, Head of the International Affairs Committee of the Russian Federation Duma, asks ‘Why should it be Russia


28. 29. 30.

31.

32. 33. 34.

35. 36.

37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42.

43.

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who persuades her Western partners about facilitating visa procedures and mutual interaction – rather than sets up “iron curtains” near the walls of consular departments in Moscow?’ in K. Kosachev, ‘Following False Leading Lights’, Moscow News, 10 March 2006. See also Kosachev’s ‘Dictate of Incompetence’ (2006), op. cit. M. Wight, International Theory: The Three Traditions, G. Wight and B. Porter, eds (Leicester and London: Leicester University Press, 1991). President Putin, cited above on 4 October 2005. Speech by Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov at the Ministerial Conference on the Northern Dimension, Brussels, 21 November 2005; Spokesman of the Foreign Ministry of the Russian Federation A. Yakovenko, answers to mass media, Moscow, 1 August 2005. In Russia, mobility alone is feared to increase brain drain, and the introduction of European institutional models is often argued to degrade the quality of education relevant for Russia. Presidential Envoy Sergey Jastrzhembskiy, interview for the radio station ‘Echo of Moscow’, 11 October 2005. Presidential Envoy Sergey Jastrzhembskiy, interview for the radio station ‘Echo of Moscow’, 14 May 2005. President Vladimir Putin, interview to the Indian newspaper Hindu, Delhi, 3 December 2004; Statement on the occasion of the terrorist attacks in London, 7 July 2005; Meeting with the residents of Beslan, 2 September 2005. See also Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov, interview for the BBC, Moscow, 10 November 2005, and Special Envoy of the President of the Russian Federation, Victor Ivanov, interview in Nezavisimaia gazeta, 17 February 2006. Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov, cited above on 10 November 2005. Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the European Communities in Brussels Vladimir Chizhov, interview in Nezavisimaia gazeta, 12 September 2005; Head of the International Affairs Committee of the Russian Federation Duma and Head of the Russian delegation to the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe Konstantin Kosachev, interview for the Radio station ‘Echo of Moscow’, 7 February 2006. Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov, cited above on 10 November 2005. The old European sense of ‘power’ is an adequate term, because its meaning is not limited to the state in the modern sense. See, for example, M. Wight’s Power Politics (Royal Institute of International Affairs [London]: Lester University Press, 1978). The title, in effect, means ‘politics of powers’. Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the European Communities in Brussels Vladimir Chizhov, cited above on 26 September 2005. The Polish magazine WProst, mentioned in Die Zeit (‘Wenn Putin Gas gibt’), No. 37, 8 September 2005. Handelsblatt 8.9.2005, German Embassy, Moscow. The ECSC served as the foundation for the later development of the European Economic Community (renamed the European Community by the Maastricht Treaty), and then the European Union. In 1950 Jean Monnet proposed to the French Foreign Minister Robert Schuman joining together the French and German coal and steel production,

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and this proposal led to the establishment of the ECSC. Jean Monnet worked as the president of its governing board until 1954. 44. Deputy Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation Alexander Grushko, cited above on 22 November 2005. 45. For example ‘Comments to the Finnish answer to the question of the Russians in the Baltic States’ by Ivan Preobrazhenskiy, 2 August 2005, www. strana.ru.

6 Russia and the New Europe: Strategies for an Evolving Relationship Norma C. Noonan

Introduction: Russia in the new Europe An impartial but well educated observer analyzing international relations in contemporary Europe might conclude that Russia has been isolated from the new Europe after the dual enlargement of the European Union (EU) and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and that containment, first defined in 1947, has been fully achieved. Not only has the Soviet ‘empire’ dissolved into fifteen independent states, but the core state, the Russian Federation, is not a full member of either of the two permanent standing bodies of Europe – the EU and NATO – although it is a member of some all-Europe agreements. While the Russian Federation involves itself with NATO through the Russian-NATO Council (RNC),1 all former Warsaw Pact states except Russia are now full members of NATO. While Russia has a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) with the EU,2 four former members of the Soviet-led Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (CMEA) are now EU members, and two have achieved candidate status. Moreover, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, the three Baltic republics of the former Soviet Union (FSU), independent since 1992, are full members of NATO and the EU. Thus dual enlargement has incorporated most of Russia’s key neighbours; Ukraine, the second largest nation of the FSU, is actively campaigning for EU and NATO membership. The overall effect of these developments could be interpreted as a greater containment of Russia than ever envisaged during the Cold War. The expansion of the EU in terms of function and membership has created a super entity that in theory makes a united Europe closer to reality than ever before, despite the setbacks on the proposed EU constitutional treaty in referenda held in France and the Netherlands in 2005. Although Russia is a member of the Organization for Security 111

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and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the Council of Europe, and the G8,3 Russia appears to be the major ‘outsider’ in Europe; neither a new nor novel status for the most eastern nation of Europe. Non-membership in these arrangements, however, does not necessarily limit Russia’s options or isolate it. It is the thesis of this chapter that the Russian Federation, in fact, is freer to act in international relations as an ‘outsider’ than if it were a full member of either NATO or the EU. In negotiations with the EU, for example, Russia as well as the EU can set the preconditions and parameters.4

Russia as an independent actor in Europe The Russian Federation, operating outside of these alignments, is essentially an independent actor with considerable freedom to develop or rebuild its military, reconstruct its economy, and pursue economic and military arrangements with other states where and when Russian leaders choose, without seeking prior approval or conforming to restrictive international agreements. In 1999 Vladimir Putin, then Prime Minister of the Russian Federation, attended the EU–Russian summit. In his speech, he stated Russia’s approach: ‘... partnership between Russia and the European Union will be based on the treaty relations, i.e., without an officially stated objective of Russia’s accession to or “association” with the EU. As a world power situated on two continents, Russia should retain its freedom to determine and implement its domestic and foreign policies, its status and advantages of a Euro-Asian state and the largest country of the CIS and independence of its position and activities at international organizations’.5 This statement might be interpreted as Russia’s declaration of independence from entangling alliances or, alternatively, as putting the best interpretation on a bad situation. It is more likely the former rather than the latter. Russian foreign policy has exercised considerable initiative during the Putin administration. Among countries with whom Russia has sought specific partnerships are China, Japan, Iran, India and the United States (US). Russia and Japan have steadily improved relations, putting aside their long-standing differences insofar as possible, and further economic cooperation is envisaged. Both countries understand that their cooperation is important to stem the rising tide of Chinese economic and political power.6 Furthermore, as an oil, gas and arms exporter, Russia has considerable leverage in international relations, especially with the EU. Russia’s oil exports have increased almost 50 per cent since 1999, at a time when oil prices have been very

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favourable for exporters.7 About 40 per cent of the natural gas imported by the EU comes from Russia.8 Since 9/11, in particular, Russia has been part of the global anti-terrorist drive, cooperating with both the EU and NATO.9 Contemporary Russia is not content with being a second-rate power on the periphery of international politics. Through its dominant position in the Soviet Union, Russia for decades saw itself as a superpower; a return to this status is a likely goal in the current period. Russian leaders view the country’s relative decline in international relations as temporary, not permanent. Russia’s increasing self-assertion in the international arena is evidence of this intention. How does Russia’s status as an outsider affect those aspirations? The hypothesis of this study is that Russia’s path to maximizing its influence in the world depends on membership neither in the EU nor in NATO. Russia can achieve the goal of a renewed international status outside of these major alignments by pursuing effective strategies, while rebuilding the country’s domestic economy. How deep is the Russian desire for great power, even superpower status? The desire for power appears to pervade the thinking of ordinary Russians, as well as the government leadership.10 A major survey in 2000 reflected popular longing for the days when the Soviet Union was a superpower.11 Results from another poll carried out in late 2003 suggest that Russians place a high standard of living ahead of great power status by 54 per cent to 43 per cent, but they still maintain a strong desire for Russia’s revival.12 Putin himself expressed his vision for Russia’s international role at a meeting with Russian ambassadors abroad in June 2006: ‘Pursuing an active foreign policy is becoming an increasingly important component of national development for any country. Effective use can be made of foreign policy to establish new positions in the world’s division of labour and to pursue political and humanitarian objectives.’13 Russia’s reassertion as an international force has been facilitated by favourable prices. Oil has spurred economic growth, as has a rise in labour productivity.14 Part of Putin’s popularity may be attributable to the widely-held perception that he is unwilling to accept second-class status for the Russian Federation. Putin’s forceful and lucid presentations of the Russian perspective and his unwillingness to accept conditions put forth by European states are illustrated by his demands to the OSCE to give Russia better conditions in their interactions.15 V.-Y. Ghebali argues that Russia opposes both NATO enlargement and the EU’s Neighbourhood Policy as part of its quest to ‘restore a lost superpower

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status’.16 Putin’s domestic reforms and the improved economy during his administration have rekindled a spirit of optimism, which previously seemed lost. Whether there is formal recognition of Russia as a superpower is less significant than the reality of Russia’s increasing influence in the international sphere. In their efforts to re-establish Russia’s international position as a key political force, Russian leaders have available several strategic options. Russia may pursue one or several, but not all, of these strategic options at any given time: 1. Russia can pursue a strategy of continued, more or less permanent, independence from the new Europe, working with European states or the EU in a partnership of equals. This strategy includes selective alignment with the EU and NATO on issues where interests coincide. This is probably the preferred strategy of the Russian leadership in dealing with Europe. 2. Russia might pursue a long-term strategy to enter the EU and/or join NATO – a strategy in which Russia conforms to EU and/or NATO policy. This strategy is unlikely to be a Russian preference since it suggests subservience to the EU and/or NATO in order to achieve membership. 3. Russia can focus on non-European partnerships, primarily with Asian and Middle Eastern states on or near its borders, such as India and Iran. This strategy is always part of the Russian toolbox but currently not its main focus. It is a strategy that Russia has used in the past and may use in the future to persuade the West to cooperate. If this option were to become Russia’s primary strategy, it might be evidence of a failure of Russia’s European policy. 4. Russia can exercise influence in selected states of the Near Abroad (the FSU), winning some issues and losing others. This strategy can be pursued concurrently with other options outlined here and is likely to be a component of Russian policy since it is difficult to conceive of Russia forfeiting its regional leadership role. 5. Russia may try to maximize its overall leverage by virtue of size and location, strategically moving between a European and Asian focus, depending on the situation. Russia has always been conscious of its dual identity as both a European and an Asian nation, historically looking both to East and West. The simultaneous pull toward Europe and toward Asia remains a significant influence on Russian foreign policy.


Russia is most likely to pursue some variant of the fifth option, which would incorporate the first and third strategies in relations with Europe and Asia. The fourth option will likely be continued as part of Russia’s pursuit of its own version of the Monroe Doctrine. The second option is not realistic, given attitudes in Europe about absorbing Russia into the EU and given the wide-spread view in the West that it would be inappropriate to incorporate Russia into NATO. In his time in office, President Putin has attempted to devote time and attention to Europe, the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) and Asia, conducting an activist foreign policy that attempts to restore Russia’s participation and prestige in the world.17

Russian policy toward Europe The European dimension of Russian foreign policy is crucial and the focus of this analysis. Aleksei Likhachev, a Deputy to the Duma affiliated with United Russia, the pro-administration party, wrote: ‘Europe is an indisputable priority in foreign economic diplomacy strategy of Russia, which lies in Europe and Asia’.18 Likhachev continued: ‘The European Union is and will be Russia’s main trade and economic partner ...’19 Furthermore, Likhachev alluded to removing ‘some of the negative consequences’ of the eastern expansion of the EU.20 Some problems between Russia and the EU were resolved during meetings held in 2004 and 2005, but others remain.21 Europe is important in Russia’s exports, especially the export of energy, and Russian energy is perhaps critical for Europe.22 F. S. Larrabee believes that Putin has been more focused than his predecessor on Russia’s ‘European orientation and its integration into an expanding European economic space’.23 At the same time Larrabee discerns numerous issues which may preclude closer cooperation between Russia and the EU.24 Russia’s strategy toward Europe will not develop in a vacuum. The contextual framework involves, at a minimum, Europe, the US and China as principal players. Russia’s options depend, in part, on the policies and actions of other major players in international relations. Aleksandr Orlov of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs reveals some concerns: ‘The main thing that cannot be longer ignored [sic] is a gradual and persistent erection of a new curtain or a wall between Russia and the “Euroatlantic world” that has been going on for several years now’.25 Orlov further maintains that enlargement has spread the EU to the ‘vast territory that for centuries or at least decades was the zone of Moscow’s

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special economic interests’.26 Orlov laments NATO expansion, while recognizing that the West at present does not pose a threat to Russia. Orlov argues that ‘Russia will never accept the role of a poor relation’ to the West; his solution is to seek greater integration of the CIS in order to curb the eastern expansion of the EU and NATO.27 The statements by Orlov support the argument that Option One is a preferred strategy, but Option Four is also important.

Russia’s fears regarding the EU and NATO Russia has been – and will remain – concerned about the eastern expansion of Europe into its traditional spheres of influence. Russia has always feared isolation from Europe, and its fear takes different forms. 28 J. L. Black traces these fears back to the Napoleonic Wars and argues that Panslavism is an important manifestation of Russia’s tendency to differentiate its culture and civilization from that of Europe.29 Black also details the opposition to NATO expansion that was a persistent theme in Russia in the 1990s. Public opinion data suggest that although a majority of Russians believe themselves to be ‘European’, there is also an awareness of Russia’s separateness.30 Russian leaders have tried to emphasize stronger ties among the CIS states, especially greater economic and security cooperation. Yet contextually, that cooperation is set against the larger arena of European and Asian politics and the fear of encroachment. There is not only a fear of isolation, but also a belief that the major European states, and the West generally, want to keep Russia in a subordinate position. This belief is a major reason that Russia is not likely to pursue Option Two. EU or NATO membership would involve acquiescence to Europe rather than cooperation with Europe. Concerned about the expansion of NATO and the EU, Russia for a time put its hopes in the OSCE as the all-European security agency. A Charter for European Security was signed in 1999, but its impact was disappointing to Russia. After Putin became president, he attacked the OSCE’s policies and asked for a new security policy that included antiterrorism, anti-missile defence, opposition to political extremism and other issues.31 Unable to persuade the OSCE to respond to Moscow’s specific concerns, Russia gave up its efforts and focused instead on working directly with the EU and NATO.32 Although President Putin has taken the initiative in pronouncing a more assertive foreign policy, there remain some fears among the Russian people about the intentions of other countries vis-à-vis Russia.


A survey carried out in 2004 suggests that the population is divided about foreign intentions toward Russia. Forty-five per cent of the respondents indicated that they believe, to some degree, that the world conspires against Russia – 14 per cent indicated that there definitely is and 31 per cent that there probably is a conspiracy.33 Suspicions of NATO in particular remained strong as late as 2000, ten years after the end of the Cold War. Fully 30 per cent of those polled saw NATO as antiRussian. When asked why the countries of eastern Europe were entering NATO, 46 per cent saw western pressure as the major reason. Only five per cent of those polled in 2003 had any desire to see Russia join NATO, but a plurality did wish to cooperate with NATO.34 Is there justification for Russian fears of Europe? Is there a western strategy to isolate Russia or keep Russia at a disadvantage? Within the EU, it would be hard to find evidence of consensus on how to handle Russia. The EU itself is in a state of flux, trying to integrate its new members. Several analysts argue that the EU is a post-modern actor in international relations, that is, it is neither a state nor a superpower, but a major actor.35 Whether one labels the EU as post-modern, trans-national or super-national, there is recognition that the EU is a somewhat fluid entity. At present the EU does not appear to have a united policy toward Russia. Is NATO expansion, on the other hand, intended to isolate Russia? Larrabee argues that a major goal of NATO expansion is directed toward forming partnerships with Russia.36 The formation of the Permanent Joint Council (1997) and, later, the NATO-Russia Council (2002) reflect interest in keeping Russia as an active partner in the North Atlantic arrangements. The adoption of these measures suggests that NATO had relative consensus in its policy toward Russia and that the policy was designed to include, rather than exclude, the Russian Federation in its decision-making. The rift that erupted among NATO members over the initiation of war in Iraq in 2003, with the US and the United Kingdom, on one side, and France and Germany, on the other, has reduced the possibility of developing a North Atlantic peacekeeping force that might respond to international crises within the North Atlantic region and possibly elsewhere in the world. Russia might become an important partner in a NATO peacekeeping operation in the future, but such cooperation appears less likely than a few years ago. In the US there has been less attention to NATO since the onset of the war in Iraq, and within Europe there is intermittent dissatisfaction with the US’ unilateral foreign policy. Differences between NATO members

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are a reality that reduces possibilities of cooperation on anything other than routine matters. NATO, it may be argued, is treading water rather than swimming toward a defined destination. The lack of direction in NATO has negative and positive implications for Russia. A positive implication is that there is less reason for Russia to worry about NATO expansion, since NATO is disunited and appears to have declining significance. On the negative side, there is less opportunity for Russia to develop a working relationship with the NATO countries, thus potentially reinforcing Russia’s ‘outsider’ status, despite the RNC and the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC). Within Russia there exists a fear that NATO’s expansion can be potentially threatening to Russia. Russian Minister of Defence Sergey Ivanov strongly expressed this view shortly before Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania became part of NATO in 2004: ‘If NATO continues to keep to its offensive military doctrine, then Russia’s military planning and the principles of Russia’s military procurement – including in the nuclear sphere – will be adequately reevaluated’; according to Ivanov, ‘Russia is carefully observing the process of NATO’s transformation’37 Ivanov’s statements are congruent with a 2003 public opinion survey, in which 46 per cent of those polled thought NATO posed a threat to the Russian Federation.38 Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov held a press conference after the RNC talks in April 2006. In that discussion, he echoed Russian concerns, including anxiety about the course of NATO expansion, the role of the RNC and the American military presence in Romania and Bulgaria.39

Can Russia become a member of NATO or the EU? The original purpose of NATO was principally, but not solely, to contain the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union is now history. Why not include Russia as a full member of NATO? Scholars have debated this controversial issue for years. R. Daniels argues that if Russia were a part of NATO, then NATO would have to ‘extend its joint defense guarantee to Russia’s Asian frontiers’.40 NATO has 26 members at present; far larger than the original organization. It includes former Warsaw Pact countries and three former Soviet republics, a de facto situation that makes Russia uneasy, even though a larger NATO means a more diluted NATO. In addition, 20 countries, including Russia and 11 other constituent republics of the FSU, belong to NATO’s EAPC, thus bringing total membership (i.e., both levels of membership) to 46.41


A. G. Troyan and G. V. Grigoriev expressed Russia’s anxiety about NATO in their analysis of the 1999 Strategic Concept of NATO and NATO’s subsequent further expansion into eastern Europe. They argue that ‘the Alliance [NATO] has obtained substantial military-political and strategic advantages over the Russian Federation. The admission of practically all states of Central and Eastern Europe to NATO has considerably disturbed the military-strategic balance on the continent and undermined the basic accords on the postwar settlement of Europe [author’s emphasis added]. The bloc’s new members enlarged its military capability by nearly 30 per cent in all the three principal components – scientifictechnical, military-economic, and military. This has effectively turned the North Atlantic Alliance into the West’s main military-political instrument in upholding its interests, further weakening Russia’s influence in the political, economic and military sphere’.42 Their perception probably reflects the potential of NATO more than present reality in the aftermath of the Iraq conflict. An underlying Russian concern appears to be that NATO can extend its activity beyond situations in which a member nation is under threat to do peacekeeping operations anywhere, especially if such operations would occur among the republics in the ‘post-Soviet area’.43 What lies in the near future for Russia and the EU? Is EU membership for Russia a possibility? On one hand, there is significant mutual dependency since the EU states buy the largest share of Russia’s exports, especially oil and gas. On the other hand, the expansion of the EU, especially the integration of the recent east European entrants, remains a daunting task and a challenge to the viability and further progress of the Union. Four candidate members and the announced intention of Ukraine to join the EU will further strain resources. Given the current complexities of expansion, it is unrealistic to expect that the EU would admit Russia with its enormous, unevenly developed economy in the foreseeable future.

Foreign policy in the Putin era In the past, Soviet/Russian leaders often had a conscious strategy of trying to encourage rifts within the capitalist world, for example, between the developed countries and the Third World or between Europe and the US.44 The origin of the strategy was the Leninist theory of imperialism that contradictions within the capitalist camp would worsen over time. This was manifest in Stalin’s foreign policy during the Second World War and in Khrushchev’s policies during the Cold War. It was also a


conscious strategy the détente of the Brezhnev era. During that time, Brezhnev played the Federal Republic of Germany against its economic partner, the US, until the US decided it had enough of the ‘game’ and opted out of détente in the mid-1970s. Daniels argues that Putin, unlike some of his predecessors, does not overtly try to divide Europe and the US.45 Putin strategically looks for opportunities to enhance cooperation and to collaborate with numerous nations. This policy seems to resonate with the Russian people, even though in 2004 the people appeared somewhat divided as to where Russian emphasis should be in foreign policy. While a slight majority believed that western Europe should be a priority area, the responses were wide-ranging and sometimes contradictory. Almost half the population polled believed that Ukraine, Belarus and the CIS should be Russia’s primary partners. Almost one-third of those polled believed that the US was the most important for Russian foreign policy.46 In foreign policy, Putin is pragmatic and responsive to the changing winds of international politics. Putin’s statements at the adoption of the RNC in 2002 illustrate his flexibility. While expressing reservations about NATO, he openly embraced the opportunity for greater cooperation between NATO and Russia: ‘Our present meeting with the NATO heads of state and government really opens, in our estimation, an entirely new chapter in relations between Russia and the North Atlantic bloc. ... The Rome Declaration on the new quality of the relationship is a very important step toward the creation between Russia and NATO of truly partner-like relations, based on the mutual respect of the interests of each other.’ 47 Putin’s foreign policy has not lost sight of Russia’s key geopolitical position between Europe and Asia. This is often brought to the world’s attention in clear but understated language, such as in some of the statements made in 2002 at the Press Conference that followed the formation of the RNC: ‘Russia by virtue of its geopolitical position, as a European country, intends to pursue a balanced policy both in the East and in the West’.48 Later at the same press conference, Putin clearly indicated that Russia intends to play a major role in the world: ‘Russia always played a substantial role in world affairs. But, the problem for our country was that over a long period of time a situation had developed in which Russia was on one side, and on the other – practically the rest of the world. There was also a time when we spoiled relations even with our great neighbor in the East, with the People’s Republic of China. ... Russia is now returning to the family of civilized nations. And


it needs nothing but that its voice will be heard, that it will be reckoned with, and that its national interests will be considered and duly recognized’.49 Later in 2002 during his visit to China, Putin not only reinforced the significance of Russian relations with China, but also talked about cooperation with NATO against terrorism, suggesting strongly that Russia will defend its interests alone, if necessary.50 Russia’s hosting of the G8 conference of the major industrial powers in June 2006 is a concrete indication of the desire to be heard and considered. The G8 conference was a significant international event for Russia in its quest for a global position. Shortly before the conference, President Putin met with former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger in Moscow. The Russian press focused on Kissinger’s comments on the appropriateness of Russia’s inclusion among the G8.51 After the conference, Dmitry Orlov, Director of the Russian Political and Economics Communications Agency, pointed to the significance of the Russian voice at the St. Petersburg meeting of the G8: ‘Russia imposed its agenda upon the G8, and Vladimir Putin spoke out at the summit as the main newsmaker’.52 Putin’s activist approach to foreign policy is well demonstrated by a speech made in a meeting held with Russia’s ambassadors and permanent representatives in June 2006. Putin indicated that he had asked the Foreign Ministry, the Economic Development and Trade Ministry and the Finance Ministry to work on a plan for a ‘national mechanism’ to provide international development assistance and the Foreign Ministry to conduct a review of Russia’s foreign policy and present proposals by the end of 2006. Putin stated: ‘we should not simply take part in work on the “global agenda” but should make a real contribution to its formation. I can see from my international meetings ... that there is growing demand from our partners abroad for Russia to play a more active role in world affairs.’53 After presenting a variety of ideas about cooperation and avoidance of confrontation, Putin indicated that in the contemporary world ‘cooperation and competition are closely interwoven’.54 Putin continued: To be honest, not everyone was ready to see Russia begin to restore its economic health and its position on the international stage so rapidly. Some still see us through the prism of past prejudices and ... see a strong and reinvigorated Russia as a threat. Some are ready to accuse us of reviving “neo-imperialist” ambitions or ... have come up with the accusation of “energy blackmail”.55


When looking for areas in which to engage in partnerships, Russia looks to the South and East, as well as to Europe, including the erstwhile southern republics of the FSU. Client states such as Kazakhstan have a continuing, close relationship with Russia both because of economic dependency and because of the substantial Russian population residing there. Russia looks to India, Iran, China and Japan as important states with whom to engage in economic agreements, including trade, oil pipelines, joint development efforts in energy and other areas, and military cooperation. Putin specifically pointed to China, India and Japan as important partners. With respect to China, he noted that ‘Russia’s friendly ties with the People’s Republic of China have become allencompassing in nature. We see our main task as being not to preserve what we have achieved thus far but to take new steps in order to further expand the partnership between Russia and China’.56 Important comments were also made about India and Japan. The comments on Asia concluded with the following: ‘The Asia-Pacific Region in general is becoming increasingly important for Russia today. It is in our interests to take maximum part in regional integration through the region’s forums and institutions, including APEC, ASEAN and other forums’.57 This statement reminds the world that Russia is an Asian nation participating in the integration of the ‘region’. The Shanghai Cooperative Organization is playing an increasingly large role in Russian foreign policy. Non-membership in the EU and NATO may afford Russia greater negotiating space since agreements with Asian states or any other states have to be cleared neither with the EU nor with NATO. Flexibility to manoeuvre in Asia, as well as Europe, may hold the key to any expansion of Russian influence in the near future. Option Five, practiced with flexibility and dexterity, can be the ‘ace’ in Russian efforts to increase its influence in world politics. Europe arguably remains more important than Asia in Russia’s foreign policy strategy in the near future. Russia, as part of Europe, continues to engage the Russian leadership and political elite. To some extent, involvement in Asia, while important, is often a fallback position when Russia does not achieve its goals in Europe. F. Lyukanov, editor of the journal Russia in Global Politics, analyzed the situation in Europe as follows: ‘We are witnessing an economic slowdown, contradictions about reforming the EU and lagging behind the leaders – the USA and East Asia – which is becoming insurmountable’. Lyukanov thought the solution would be the creation of a ‘big Europe’ that includes all the countries that are part of European civilization; he specified that Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova should be part of


that entity.58 Lyukanov’s is an interesting, though unlikely, scenario, but it illustrates the Russian sense of belonging to Europe.

Conclusions What does contemporary Russia want? Russian policy documents and speeches made by Putin and other top officials reveal that the goals include enhancement of Russia’s influence in world affairs based on a strengthened economy, thus allowing Russia to resume great power, possibly even superpower status. To achieve these goals, formal membership in the two major European organizations is not essential. Although some Russian analysts raise concerns about being shut out of European affairs, those statements are simply correctives to the predominant thinking. Russia’s strategic geopolitical position may be the key to understanding its foreign policy. Acknowledging Russia as a Eurasian state that can maintain critically important partnerships in both Europe and Asia may enhance comprehension of Russian foreign policy in the foreseeable future.

Notes 1. The Permanent NATO Council was created in 1997 as a vehicle for negotiation with Russia. It was revised and modified in 2002 as the RNC. 2. The Agreement was modified to include the ten new members of the EU in 2004, most of whom were formerly part of the Soviet Union or of the CMEA. D. Litvinovich, ‘Russia Twitchy as NATO Expansion Date Nears’, Transition Online, 29:3 (2004). 3. The G8 includes the major industrial powers. Russia was added to the G7 in 1990, recasting it as the G8. 4. See T. Romanova and N. Zaslavskaya, ‘EU–Russia: Towards the Four Spaces’, Baltic Defense Review, 2:12 (2004) pp. 84–103. 5. Putin’s speech cited in J. Gower, ‘EU–Russian Relations and the Eastern Enlargement: Integration or Isolation?’, Perspectives on European Politics and Society, 1:1 (2001) p. 76. 6. J. Brooke, ‘Japan and Russia, With an Eye on China, Bury the Sword’, New York Times (13 February 2005). 7. See P. Lavelle, ‘What Does Putin Want?’, Current History, 103:675 (2004) pp. 314–18. 8. D. Johnson, ‘EU–Russian Energy Links: A Marriage of Convenience?’, Government & Opposition, 40:2 (2005) pp. 256–77. 9. V. Morozov, ‘Russia in the Baltic Sea Region: Desecuritization or Deregionalization?’, Cooperation and Conflict, 39:3 (2004) pp. 317–31. 10. On foreign policy issues in the 1990s, see A. Arbatov, ‘Russian Foreign Policy Thinking’, in V. Baranovsky, ed., Russia and Europe: The Emerging Security Agenda, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004, pp. 135–59.

124 The Boundaries of EU Enlargement 11. Nostalgia for the past in Russia is evident from public opinion surveys. There has been a positive reassessment of the Brezhnev era in public opinion surveys. See E. Bacon and M. F. Sandle, 2003, Brezhnev Reconsidered. During the Brezhnev era the Soviet Union was a superpower and life was relatively comfortable, due in part to the export of natural resources during the 1970s. The resurgence of Russia as a key oil exporter in the present decade appears to be a repeat of the 1970s and has also helped boost the economy. 12. New Russian Barometer, XII (12–22 December 2003), http://www.russia votes.org. 13. V. Putin, ‘Speech at Meeting with the Ambassadors and Permanent Representatives of the Russian Federation’ (27 June 2006) http://www.mid. ru/brp_4.nsf/e78a48070f128a7b43256999005bcbb3/8a7ede84facbb284c32 5719b0046dca6?OpenDocument. 14. See P. Kranz and J. Bush, ‘Putin’s Game’, Business Week (7 June 2004), pp. 54–8. Gross Domestic Product was up 7 per cent, and labour productivity was up 14 per cent. 15. V.-Y. Ghebali argues that President Putin has used this instrument to put forth Russia’s case to Europe since Russia is not a member of NATO or the EU. V.-Y. Ghebali, ‘Growing Pains at the OSCE: The Rise and Fall of Russia’s Pan-European Expectations’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, 18:3 (2005) pp. 375–88. 16. Ibid., p. 387. 17. In 2000, his first year in office, Putin visited China, India, Japan, Mongolia, Vietnam, North Korea and South Korea. J. L. Black, Russia Faces NATO Expansion: Bearing Gifts or Bearing Arms? (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000), p. 297. 18. A. Likhachev, ‘Russia’s Economic Interests in an [sic] United Europe’, International Affairs (Moscow), 50:5 (2004) p. 75. 19. Ibid., p. 75. 20. Ibid., p. 76. 21. Concessions agreed upon on 27 April 2004 included resolution of some transit problems and of quota issues on steel exports and custom duties. 22. Likhachev, ‘Russia’s Economic Interests’, p. 80. 23. F. S. Larrabee, NATO’s Eastern Agenda in a New Strategic Era (Santa Monica: Rand, 2003), p. 145. 24. Ibid., pp. 146–7. 25. A. Orlov, ‘Russia Will Never Accept the Role of a Poor Relation’, International Affairs (Moscow), 50:4 (2004) p. 28. 26. Ibid., p. 28. 27. Orlov does not indicate how Russia will achieve greater integration of the CIS since he admits that Russia cannot financially duplicate Germany’s economic investment in reunification after 1990. Ibid., pp. 31–2. 28. Morozov differentiates between various conceptions of Europe that emerge from Russia – a good Europe and a bad Europe. V. Morozov, ‘Russia in the Baltic Sea Region: Desecuritization or Deregionalization?’, Cooperation and Conflict, 39:3 (2004) p. 320. 29. J. L. Black maintains that Nikolai Danilovskii’s Panslavism, which posits the unity of Slavs to counter the cultures of western Europe, remains alive and well. See Black, Russia Faces NATO Expansion, p. 5.

Russia and the New Europe 125 30. New Russia Barometer, VIII (19–29 January 2000), http://www.russia votes.org. 31. Ghebali, ‘Growing Pains’, p. 381. 32. Ibid., p. 388. 33. A 2004 poll by the Levada Centre in Moscow reveals a lack of consensus about other countries’ policies toward Russia, although a significant group believes in a conspiracy against Russia. Levada Centre Nationwide Survey (24–7 September 2004), http://www.russiavotes.org. 34. VCIOM Nationwide Survey (24–7 January 2003), http://www.russiavotes. org. 35. Romanova and Zaslavskaya, ‘EU–Russia’ pp. 84–103.; H. Hubel, ‘The EU–Russia Relationship: Managing Partnership and Dissent’, Baltic Defence Review, 2:12 (2004) pp. 104–110. 36. Larrabee, NATO’s Eastern Agenda, p. 174. 37. Ivanov was quoted by Interfax Agency in the article, ‘Russia Warns NATO with Nuclear Option’, Space War, http://www.spacewar.com/2004/04032516 2354.83lui ww8.html. 38. VCIOM Nationwide Survey. 39. S. Lavrov, ‘Transcript of Remarks and Replies to Media Questions by Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov at Press Conference Following Informal Russian-NATO Council Meeting, Sofia (Bulgaria)’ (28 April 2006), http://www.mid.ru/bul_ns_en.nsf/kartaflat/en01. 40. R. V. Daniels, ‘Putin’s Patient Strategy’, New Leader, 85:4 (2002), p. 7. 41. All members of the Russian-led CIS are on the EAPC. 42. A. G. Troyan and G. V. Grigoryev, ‘NATO’s Strategic Concept: Basic MilitaryPolitical Aspects’, Military Thought, 13:3 (2004) p. 212. 43. Ibid., p. 214. 44. The post-Stalinist Soviet leadership encouraged differences in opinion among the western leaders, much as Stalin had successfully done during the Second World War. R. Donaldson and J. Nogee give several examples in their chapter on the Cold War in The Foreign Policy of Russia: Changing Systems, Enduring Interests, III (Armonk: ME Sharpe, 2005), p. 83. 45. Daniels, ‘Putin’s Patient Strategy’. 46. Levada Centre Nationwide Survey (9–13 January 2004), http://www.russia votes.org. 47. V. Putin, ‘President of the Russian Federation Vladimir Putin Remarks and Answers to Questions During Joint Press Conference with NATO Secretary General George Robertson and Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’, Rome (28 May 2002), http://www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/e78a48070f128a7b4325 6999005bcbb3/5f0e597882d720ea43256bc9003382d2?OpenDocument. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid. 50. S. Gutterman, ‘Putin Eager to Cooperate with NATO’, Associated Press (3 December 2002). 51. ‘Putin-Kissinger Meeting Emphasizes US–Russian Relations’, New York Times (7 June 2006). 52. D. Orlov, ‘G8 Summit Changes West’s Perception of Russia’, Nezavisimaia gazeta (28 July 2006). Reported in Johnson’s List. 2006- 172, (31 July 2006) www.cdi.org/russia/johnson/.

126 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58.

The Boundaries of EU Enlargement V. Putin, ‘Speech at Meeting’. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. F. Lyukanov is editor of the journal Russia in Global Politics. These views were expressed to Ekho Moskvy news agency and cited in a BBC news release, 28 September 2005. The interview was carried in Johnson’s Russian List, No. 9258 (29 September 2005) www.cdi.org/russia/johnson/.

Part III The EU, Ukraine and Moldova


7 Ukraine and the European Neighbourhood Policy Charles C. Pentland

Introduction The European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) was crafted in the late stages of the European Union’s (EU) eastward enlargement once it had become clear that ten new members would be joining. That impending event served to concentrate EU officials’ minds on two related questions: first, how to respond to further requests for membership that could be expected from states in eastern Europe and perhaps elsewhere; and, second, how best to manage the effects of the coming enlargement on the EU’s immediate neighbourhood. This chapter examines the EU’s relations with Ukraine in the context of the emerging ENP. First, it suggests that the unique challenge posed by Ukraine’s persistent campaign for membership explains much about the creation of the ENP. Second, it examines how Ukraine’s position between Russia and the Euro-Atlantic world has shaped its domestic and foreign policies and, hence, its response to the ENP. And third, it questions whether, in the wake of Ukraine’s Orange Revolution, the ENP will remain adequate to the task of containing the stresses and managing the needs of the EU–Ukraine relationship.

The European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) To an EU in the throes of its largest expansion, the eastern European states of the former Soviet Union presented a mixed picture. Not all wanted to follow the central Europeans into the EU, and those that did were far from ready. Russian membership was inconceivable to most, either in Brussels or in Moscow; while there was some early debate about whether to consider it a ‘neighbour’ like the others, agreement was soon 129


reached that it was in a category of its own – a ‘strategic partner’. Belarus, under its illiberal regime, was a non-starter – if anything, a candidate for sanctions, not closer ties. Moldova, on the other hand, had a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) with the EU, and the government in Chisinau aspired to membership. But the country was poor, corrupt and divided, with a separatist enclave across the Dniester River occupied by Russian ‘peacekeepers’. Ukraine, too, had a PCA, which successive governments in Kyiv had seen as a staging point on the road to full EU membership – a view not widely shared in Brussels. Circumstances in eastern Europe (and the Caucasus) thus seemed to require a framework to manage the consequences of the last enlargement while deflecting demands for membership from European states that were in principle entitled to apply. In the genesis of the ENP, another group of neighbouring states to the South came to play a fortuitous role. The Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (often referred to as the Barcelona Process) was formed in 1995 between the EU and 12 (now ten) states of the southern and eastern Mediterranean littoral. The Barcelona Process is a framework for regional cooperation embracing bilateral Association Agreements between the EU and each of the partner states. The Association Agreements are tailored to reflect the unique characteristics of each bilateral relationship. The regional framework seeks a zone of peace and security, a zone of shared prosperity through liberalization, and a ‘social, cultural and human partnership’. As non-European states, the partners are not eligible for membership in the EU. To the EU, the notion of a common framework superimposed on a set of parallel but distinct bilateral agreements seemed a promising model for bundling together the diverse states of the former Soviet Union. The idea of a European ‘neighbourhood’ saw its first full expression in the EU Commission’s Wider Europe proposal of March 2003, which laid the foundations of a new framework embracing both the Mediterranean and the former Soviet republics in eastern Europe.1 In the ensuing 14 months the Commission refined its ideas with the support of the Council and in consultation with the two groups of states concerned. In May 2004 it issued a comprehensive Strategy Paper on what it now called the European Neighbourhood Policy. According to the Strategy Paper, the objective of the ENP is to promote stability, security and prosperity in the neighbourhood to the east and south of the newly enlarged EU. It is designed ‘to prevent the emergence of new dividing lines between the enlarged EU and its neighbours and to offer them the chance to participate in various EU activities,

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through greater political, security, economic and cultural co-operation’.2 The intention is to build on, and add value to, existing bilateral agreements – PCAs in the case of Moldova, Ukraine and the Caucasus, and Association Agreements in the case of six of the ten Mediterranean countries. With each partner, an Action Plan is to be jointly designed, embodying a set of agreed priorities in these areas. The Action Plans ‘will draw on a common set of principles but will be differentiated, reflecting the existing state of relations with each country, its needs and capacities, as well as common interests’.3 Indeed, differentiation is inevitable given the enormous variation among the EU’s neighbours. Each country’s progress with respect to the priorities is to be monitored. The better a country does, the more assistance and access it is likely to get. The ultimate reward could be a European Neighbourhood Agreement, a new form of bilateral pact that would supersede the PCAs and Association Agreements and embody more advanced forms of integration.4 The vision, then, is a set of close, privileged relationships between the EU and its neighbours, creating a zone of security, stability and prosperity around its eastern and southern frontiers. This vision is based on two critical assumptions. The first is that this vision can be realized through ‘Europeanization’ – a combination of attraction and persuasion through which the neighbours gradually adopt EU norms and practices, including democracy, the rule of law, human rights, market economies and a range of social and cultural freedoms.5 The second assumption is that this can be achieved in the absence of any promise of future EU membership. Rather, as one EU official writes, ‘[t]he foundations on which the ENP’s success will be built are the credibility of the EU’s own integration process, in other words the normative power of the acquis communautaire’. He goes on to suggest that in this respect the ENP ‘nicely defines the nature of the EU’s soft power’.6 Indeed, it may do so better than the celebrated instance of enlargement, where the asymmetries of power and purpose between the EU and its suitors often gave the negotiations a somewhat coercive character.

Ukraine and the genesis of the ENP The EU’s admission of ten new members in May 2004 raised numerous issues of security and border management along its new eastern frontiers. It also left Belarus, Moldova and Ukraine in a lonely and vulnerable position: not only part of a dwindling band of non-EU Europeans, but also geopolitically and culturally situated between an expanded EU and


a resurgent Russia. A British proposal in April 2002 to give them a ‘special status’ had found support in Germany, the Nordic states and the acceding central Europeans; it was a first cut at ‘normalizing’ the status of the three outsiders – drawing them away from Russia and closer to the EU orbit without promising membership. In effect, this proposal was largely about Ukraine, as was the ‘Wider Europe’ concept into which it morphed over the following 12 months. In the absence of regime-change, which seemed a remote possibility, nothing much could be done about Belarus. President Alexander Lukashenko resisted both threats and promises from the West, preferring to pursue union with Russia in some sort of Slavic commonwealth. In the case of Moldova the problem was not so much will as capacity. The PCA was languishing as the secessionist forces in Transnistria continued to hobble the government. While the situation might change once Romania entered the EU in 2007, for the moment Moldova remained marginal – small, poor and perhaps better handled as an adjunct to the Balkans. Ukraine, however, was another story. A large, strategically-located and potentially prosperous country, it had combined regular proclamations of its ‘European vocation’ with domestic and foreign policy actions at odds with that aim for years. This was particularly true during President Leonid Kuchma’s second term (1999–2004), which raised the cultivation of ambiguity in these matters to a high art. To many observers, what Kuchma sometimes called his ‘multi-vector’ foreign policy, balancing between Russia and the EU, seemed to consist of little more than a string of confusing and contradictory declarations. Viewed from the West, however, Ukraine mattered most among the three former Soviet republics; it had more, and bigger, problems than the other two, and the stakes for Europe’s security and prosperity were higher. For the EU, putting its Ukraine problem in a broader multilateral context could have at least two advantages. First, reframing the issues might provide a face-saving way of reducing the strain on the bilateral relationship from Kyiv’s unrealistic expectations. Membership might not be on offer through the ENP, but most things short of it would be; thus hard work in moving toward EU norms and practices could be hugely rewarding. Second, if properly designed with the right incentive structure, such a framework could more than offset any attractions Ukraine might find in closer relations with Russia. In the view of EU policy makers, the alternative – leaving Ukraine adrift to continue on its hopeful but erratic trajectory while subject to pressures and blandishments from Moscow – would not serve Brussels’ longer-term interests, let alone Kyiv’s.


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It is plausible, therefore, to see the Ukraine question as the main inspiration of the EU’s ‘Wider Europe’ initiative. Indeed, as the idea developed in Brussels from the spring of 2002 to the formal announcement of the new programme in March 2003 – most notably with the addition of the Mediterranean dimension – the EU became ever more convinced of the wisdom of its new strategy. Kuchma’s approach to the West and to multilateral institutions – the EU, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the World Trade Organization (WTO) – continued to appear both muddled and devious. As Ukraine’s relations with the West deteriorated over the course of those 12 months, EU officials missed few opportunities to dampen Kyiv’s expectations.7 In March 2003 the EU finally announced its new strategy for ‘Wider Europe’: to embrace, as expected, the then 15 countries of eastern Europe and the Mediterranean. As with accession to membership, the strategy envisaged the application of conditionality and the assessment of each country’s progress in approximating European norms and adopting elements of the acquis. On the other hand, the ‘new relationship’ resulting from this process of gradual integration ‘would not, in the medium term, include a perspective of membership or a role in the Union’s institutions. A response to practical issues posed by proximity and neighbourhood should be seen as separate from the question of EU accession’.8 The Ukrainian government’s initial reaction was cool. Kuchma complained that the concept of ‘neighbour’ was vague, did not recognize Ukraine’s recent efforts at reform, and fell short of the ‘associate membership’ to which it aspired. Shortly thereafter, however, at the sixth annual EU–Ukraine Cooperation Conference in Brussels Prime Minister Viktor Yanukovych accepted that the Wider Europe plan offered much to Ukraine in the way of trade liberalization, investment and the freer migration of people. The EU–Ukraine Cooperation Committee also issued a relatively upbeat report on Ukraine’s progress in implementing provisions of the PCA.9 It thus seemed as if Kyiv was prepared to soldier on under these new arrangements and that, indeed, it might have begun to close the gap between its European rhetoric and its performance. However, Kuchma was still seeking to balance between the EU and Russia. Early in 2003, even as relations with Brussels began to improve, he was promoting the idea of a Single Economic Space (SES), embracing – initially at least – Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan in a sort of hybrid common market. By September, when the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) summit took place in Yalta, the concept was sufficiently developed so as to be formally adopted. The same


government that had just produced an impressive Action Plan seeking an Association Agreement with the EU was now waxing enthusiastic about a scheme that was probably incompatible with it. The contradiction went unnoticed neither in the West nor among Kuchma’s critics.10 The sixth EU–Ukraine summit was held, also in Yalta, in early October 2003. On the surface there seemed to be a degree of convergence concerning the direction of the relationship. Kuchma acknowledged that Ukraine was not ready for full membership and that it should rely less on declarations and timetables for accession and more on hard work to meet the EU’s standards.11 In turn the EU leaders assured Kuchma – somewhat cynically perhaps – that membership for Ukraine was not inconceivable in the longer run, that the impending enlargement could be a positive development for it, and that Ukraine’s closer ties with Russia were not necessarily incompatible with its links to the EU. The first few months of 2004 saw the EU preparing for the formal induction of its ten new members, while putting the final touches on what it now officially called the Neighbourhood Policy. Consultation on ENP Action Plans had already begun with the seven partner states that had Association Agreements or PCAs, of which Ukraine was one. These monthly consultations quickly evolved into negotiations. In Ukraine’s case they began in January and concluded in September, with the Commission approving the Plan in December. In large measure these consultations simply extended and intensified the structured exchanges that had been taking place since 1998 under the auspices of the PCA. Viewed from either side the issues had not changed. While recognizing Ukraine’s progress in some areas of human rights and the rule of law, in matters of regional security and defence, in macroeconomic management and in privatization, the EU continued to stress the urgency of reforms in democratic governance, the market, media freedom, regulation and many sectors of domestic policy, including transport, energy and environment.12 The Ukrainian side’s concerns were that the EU was offering little beyond what was already in the PCA, that financial assistance was paltry compared to what the new members were getting, and that the EU was proposing no longer-term perspective beyond the 2008 expiry date of the Action Plan and the PCA. As the negotiations moved into the end-game in the spring of 2004, Kuchma reverted to the familiar contradictions of his multi-vector policy. At the end of March Ukraine agreed with relative ease to extend the provisions of its PCA to the ten new members of the EU.13 In April, on the other hand, the Rada ratified the SES agreement. Kuchma vented his frustrations with the EU on several occasions. In Warsaw, at


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a meeting of the European Economic Forum, he once more urged the EU to define Ukraine’s long-term prospects for membership. ‘Over the past few years’, he said, ‘we have not received any clear signals that Ukraine is welcome in the European Union.’ Later he commented that the failure of the EU–Ukraine ‘Troika’ meeting of foreign ministers in Dublin to decide on market-economy status for Ukraine meant that they were ‘still chasing the hare around’. With another earthy metaphor he compared Ukraine to a young bull chasing a red flag waved by the EU, adding that ‘the red cloth has faded somewhat in the sun, and is not as bright as it used to be, so we are not rushing so eagerly toward it’.14 By June Ukraine was threatening to reject the Action Plan unless it included the promise of a further agreement on significantly closer ties, keeping the door open for future membership. Within the EU, Ukraine’s position continued to find support, particularly from Poland, Hungary, the United Kingdom and the Baltics, while France and the Benelux countries were reluctant to encourage thoughts of further enlargement. Having won no concessions at the seventh EU–Ukraine summit in July, Kuchma delayed signing the Action Plan. Later that month he seized the occasion of a visit by Russian President Vladimir Putin to Kyiv to issue a decree that references to EU and NATO membership in Ukraine’s defence doctrine be replaced by vaguer language about ‘deeper relations’ and ‘Euro-Atlantic integration’.15 Partly driven by Russian pressure, and partly in response to criticisms from NATO members at the Istanbul summit, Kuchma’s move was another piece of tactical symbolism largely free of substance. Of greater concern in Brussels was evidence that the more pro-Western ministers were either resigning or being dismissed by Kuchma.16 Such changes at the highest level seemed to confirm a gradual drift toward Russia as Ukraine approached presidential elections in the fall. Public opinion was less clear. Polls showed that Ukrainians preferred the EU to NATO, but not necessarily to the CIS and the SES. A Razumkov poll taken in July found that 51 per cent agreed that Ukraine had to join the EU, with 24 per cent opposed, but a KIIS-DIF poll taken in August found that while 29 per cent thought Ukraine would be better off in the EU than in a union with Russia (and Belarus), 49 per cent thought the opposite.17 The questions, of course, are different – a respondent might conceivably accept that joining the EU was inevitable while still preferring the Russian option. Indeed, Kuchma’s multivector policy reflected – and, to an extent, shaped – not just the regional division over this issue, but also this internal ambivalence in many individual Ukrainians.


The Orange Revolution and the ENP The final stages of the presidential election campaign in the fall of 2004 and the dramatic events surrounding the subsequent three rounds of voting mark the beginning of a new phase in Ukraine’s relations with the EU. In the euphoria following the Orange Revolution many believed that a corner had been turned. It now seems that conclusion was at least premature. The EU’s intense involvement in the political upheaval in Kyiv from November through January did not alter the essentials of its Ukraine policy. More importantly, by mid-2005 the new government was driven by internal contradictions, while the EU itself was beset by ‘enlargement fatigue’ and preoccupied with the failure of the French and Dutch referenda on the Constitutional Treaty. EU–Ukraine relations encountered new uncertainties. Officials from the EU and its member states monitored the election campaign closely and commented frequently on its deviations from European norms. As the first round of voting approached, the EU repeatedly linked Ukraine’s prospects for closer relations under the ENP to the conduct of a free, fair and transparent election.18 Beyond this, however, its involvement in the campaign was minimal. In contrast, Russian politicians were not shy in exercising rhetorical pressure, underlining Ukraine’s increased economic dependence on Russian energy and investment and invoking traditional ties. On 26–28 October President Putin made plain Russia’s preference for Yanukovych, the ‘government candidate’, during a highly publicized visit to Ukraine. The outcome of the vote on 31 October precipitated protest from the opposition and criticism from abroad. Professional exit polls had showed Yanukovych running second behind Viktor Yushchenko, the leading opposition candidate, but after several days of delay and deliberation the Central Election Commission announced that he had won by less than one percentage point. As neither had gained an outright majority, there would be a second ballot on 21 November. Yushchenko’s supporters, as well as the International Election Observation Mission, pointed to abuses in the campaign, manipulation of voter lists and irregularities in polling procedures. It was clear that the second round would take place under a cloud of suspicion. During the two-week campaign the EU was again scrupulous not to intervene directly in favour of the ‘pro-European’ Yushchenko. Its official comments continued to stress that Ukraine’s conduct of the election would be taken as evidence of its fitness for closer relations, although Brussels still offered nothing that went beyond the bounds of the ENP.


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Russia proved less inhibited. On 12 November Putin met with Kuchma in southern Russia and travelled with him to meet Yanukovych in Kerch, where amid general bonhomie they signed two agreements. The opposition declared the visit to be a blatant intervention on behalf of the Prime Minister. The Election Commission’s announcement that Yanukovych had won the runoff by just under three percentage points was greeted with incredulity and outrage by Yushchenko’s party, by his supporters massing in the Maidan and by most western observers. The EU’s engagement intensified. The President of the European Commission, Jose Manuel Barroso, said there would be consequences for the EU–Ukraine relationship if there were not ‘a serious, objective and balanced review of the electoral process and the electoral results’. Part of the EU’s concern was certainly for the fate of democracy in Ukraine, but the implications for relations with Russia and a new divide in Europe were also evident.19 Accordingly, the EU began to move beyond rhetoric to active intervention as part of a multilateral negotiation to find a diplomatic settlement to the crisis. The EU’s High Representative for Foreign and Security Policy Javier Solana along with the Polish and Lithuanian presidents and the Speaker of the Russian Duma made several trips to Kyiv between 26 November and 3 December to meet with Kuchma and to mediate between the two candidates and their teams. At the same time, Russian commentators continued to question the West’s right to intervene in Ukraine’s affairs, characterizing the EU as a giant whirlpool drawing Russia’s neighbours away from it and EU aid as a form of bribery. They began to conjure up the vision of a divided Ukraine; almost on cue, both Crimea and the eastern region of Donetsk – Yanukovich’s Russian-oriented political base – floated the idea of a referendum on separation. If the notion of this presidential election as a struggle between Russia and the West for Ukraine’s ‘soul’ had seemed simplistic and over-wrought earlier in the autumn, it now seemed to have some traction. Ukraine’s central institutions eventually responded to immense international and domestic pressure, taking critical decisions that pointed the way to a resolution of the political crisis. First, the Rada passed a resolution declaring that the vote of 21 November had not represented ‘the will of the people’. Then, the Supreme Court ruled that there should be a rerun of the second round on 26 December. The EU welcomed the decision, and the European Parliament immediately proposed to send a much larger delegation of election monitors than it had mustered for previous rounds. Finally, on 8 December the Rada passed a series of bills


as a compromise that might stabilize the domestic situation and ensure a freer and fairer vote on 26 December. A constitutional reform bill shifted significant powers from the president to the Rada – a concession by Yushchenko that did not sit well with all his supporters. On the other hand, the electoral laws were strengthened against corruption and manipulation, and the members of the Central Election Committee were replaced.20 To this point, roughly two weeks before the rerun vote the EU had limited its engagement in the Orange Revolution to general exhortations in favour of a clean election and participation in the international mediating team. Now it was to be asked for more. On 10 December Yushchenko proposed a four-stage plan in which Ukraine would, first, be granted its long-sought market-economy status; second, be admitted to the WTO; third, become an associate member of the EU; and, finally, join as a full member.21 It was one thing for the EU to dismiss such demands when they came from the discredited Kuchma. Could it afford, in Ukraine’s new circumstances, to do the same to Yushchenko? The response of the Council of Ministers, meeting on 13–14 December, was cautious. The Council welcomed political developments in Ukraine over the previous two weeks, once more underlining the importance of democratic elections, and invited Solana and the Commission ‘to propose ways to strengthen EU cooperation with Ukraine, making full use of the Action Plan ...’22 A summit meeting three days later confirmed that any proposals to develop the relationship would have to be framed by the existing Action Plan. In the short-term the EU was not prepared to reward Ukraine or risk provoking Russia by expanding its vision of the relationship. Its view did not change substantially even with Yushchenko’s decisive victory on 26 December. Early in the new year those who considered this position ungenerous and short-sighted began to recommend specific actions the EU might take to signal its support for the ‘new’ Ukraine without immediately opening the door wide. These included easing travel restrictions for Ukrainians to EU countries, expanding financial and technical assistance, helping speed entry to the WTO, and generally seeking to transcend the limits of the ENP. Concerning the last point, on 13 January the European Parliament passed a non-binding resolution calling for Ukraine to be given ‘a clear European perspective, possibly leading to EU membership’.23 In a speech to the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe in Strasbourg, newly inaugurated President Yushchenko picked up and elaborated on all these demands, insisting that the Orange Revolution showed that ‘European values have taken


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root in my people’s mentality’.24 The Foreign Minister spoke of a plan to start accession negotiations as early as 2007.25 By the end of January the EU had budged a little. On the joint recommendation of Solana and the Commission, the Council agreed to enrich the ENP Action Plan, speeding up trade liberalization (notably in textiles and steel), easing travel restrictions, increasing aid and intensifying political and security cooperation. But the EU’s Commissioner for External Relations stressed that these concessions were all within the framework of the ENP. The Action Plan, she insisted, had no bearing one way or another on Ukraine’s aspirations for membership. First, Ukraine had a lot to do before even thinking about accession. Second, having just taken in ten new members, the EU had to consider its capacity to absorb more.26 At the signing of the Action Plan in Brussels on 21 February, reference to membership was studiously avoided – even by the Ukrainian side. Attaching to the plan a ten-point list of their recent concessions, EU officials framed the exercise as support for Ukraine’s bold turn toward genuine democracy and economic reform. The EU’s response to Ukraine’s Orange Revolution seemed to some unimaginative, to others, appropriately cautious. At the outset its public rhetoric was confined to linking the future of EU–Ukraine relations to the free and fair conduct of the election. In the month between the second and third rounds it played a creative role in the negotiations that resolved the crisis; its preference known, it was nevertheless able to deploy its economic and political weight in the service of mediation. Once Yushchenko was in power, however, it resisted calls to reward his supporters by opening up the prospect of membership. Usually the case for sticking to the strict terms of the ENP was based on Ukraine’s lack of progress in ‘Europeanization’. Since the most recent enlargement, however, a new consideration had come to the fore – the EU’s ‘absorption capacity’. By May 2005, the first anniversary of the ‘big bang’, there was much second-guessing of that event among EU leaders and public opinion had turned against accepting more new members beyond Romania and Bulgaria in 2007. Turkey was, of course, the looming question. Paradoxically, the triumph of ‘Europe’s man’ in Ukraine had made things worse; Kuchma was no longer there as an excuse to tune out Ukraine. Now, an EU already beset with ‘enlargement fatigue’ would have to face not one but two large, poor countries knocking at its door. Turkey was already an issue in the French and Dutch campaigns for their referenda on the Constitutional Treaty. EU officials’ firm response to Ukraine’s demands for a ‘European perspective’ stemmed partly from their determination not to add to the troubles of the ‘yes’ campaigns.

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In the end, of course, those campaigns still failed. The defeat of the two referenda cast the EU into a period of ‘reflection’. In such circumstances Ukraine’s prospects were unlikely to improve. Moreover, by the end of the summer the country had entered a new period of political upheaval which threatened even its more modest European prospects.

Summer 2005 to Summer 2006: Momentum lost? If the immediate aftermath of the Orange Revolution had generated a measure of optimism among Ukrainians seeking closer ties with the EU, by the summer of 2005 the failure of the French and Dutch referenda and the growing tensions in the new Ukrainian government introduced a new phase of uncertainty in the relationship. The ensuing 12 months saw Ukraine’s political class consumed by a series of power struggles and embroiled in new crises with Russia. And while Russia’s actions handed Ukraine some opportunities for closer political and security cooperation with the EU, Kyiv got little encouragement in its quest for upgraded economic ties. Nevertheless, there were indications by mid2006 that within the EU some had begun to share Ukraine’s view that the ENP was in need of re-thinking. This is not the place to analyze the tensions that emerged in the new Ukrainian government in the summer of 2005. Suffice it to say that there were growing divergences over economic policy between Yushchenko and his prime minister, the charismatic and populist Yulia Tymoshenko, cross-cut by issues of corruption both inherited and new. To observers in the EU all this was of concern to the extent that it affected the Ukrainian government’s capacity to move ahead on its European agenda. Its making and conduct of policy tended to be sporadic and erratic; bold decisions on internal security and re-privatization were offset by budget-stretching social expenditures and slippage in attaining EU and WTO benchmarks. When the infighting culminated in Yushchenko’s dismissal of Tymoshenko on 8 September and the appointment of Yuriy Yekhanurov in her place, the EU limited its official comment to a delphic expression of ‘full confidence’ in the president.27 In the fall of 2005 the EU–Ukraine dance appeared to return briefly to its traditional choreography – mixed messages from Brussels and multi-vector diplomacy from Kyiv. In early October, countering the discouraging language of some of his colleagues, Commission President Barroso reassured Yekhanurov that the door to Europe remained open.28 This may have been a reaction to the fact that the new Ukrainian Prime


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Minister’s first visit abroad had been to Moscow. In late November Barroso repeated that ‘the future of Ukraine is in Europe’. In the interim, however, the Commission had issued a major paper on enlargement strategy that exuded caution and emphasized the new mantra of the EU’s ‘absorptive capacity’. Focused entirely on Turkey, Croatia and the western Balkans, it made no reference whatsoever to Ukraine – even as a prospective candidate.29 The ninth EU–Ukraine summit met in Kyiv on 1 December 2005. Somewhat against the grain of the previous few months, it turned out to be an encouraging occasion. The EU finally agreed to grant Ukraine market-economy status, effectively removing the threat of anti-dumping measures against its exports to Europe and advancing it toward WTO membership. The Joint Statement referred to a commitment to begin consulting on a ‘new enhanced agreement’ to succeed the PCA in 2008, assuming the Action Plan’s provisions would be met by then. Its goals would include promoting ‘deep economic integration’ by means of a free trade area. This was certainly more positive language than Ukraine’s leaders had heard for some time, even if the EU’s comment on their plea for membership was simply that it ‘welcomed Ukraine’s European choice’.30 The other significant feature of the summit was its recognition of the growing importance of political and security cooperation. Ukraine was working closely with the EU in matters of regional security, especially in European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) crisis management operations. Of particular note was collaboration over the Transnistria conflict, including the EU Border Mission launched on 30 November, to monitor the border between Ukraine and Moldova. In March 2006, when Ukraine imposed new customs rules to block illegal exports by the separatist regime in Tiraspol, the EU was quick to back it up – much to Russia’s displeasure.31 The timing of Yushchenko’s move may be explained partly by his need to demonstrate sound customs practices to both the EU and the WTO and partly by domestic considerations, with legislative elections approaching. The conflict in Moldova was one instance of Russian policy inadvertently bringing the EU and Ukraine closer. A more dramatic and farreaching case was the crisis over gas prices that developed in late December, precipitated by Gazprom’s proposal to quadruple the price paid by Ukraine. Many read the move toward real market prices – defensible in strictly economic terms – as Moscow punishing the new government in Kyiv for its westward shift.32 But before the crisis was temporarily resolved by a January agreement to double prices it had led

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western Europe and Ukraine to recognize the energy interdependence imposed on them by the pipeline network and their shared vulnerability to Russia. Energy had been on the joint agenda for some time; this gave it a new urgency, leading to proposals that Ukraine become an integral part of the EU’s emerging common energy strategy.33 In the first few months of 2006 Ukraine’s government tried to build on the momentum from the summit and on the positive image it continued to have in the West. Conscious of the potential electoral value of a breakthrough with the EU, the government began to call again for the EU to make some concession to Ukraine’s ‘membership aspirations’. Brussels, however, also reverted to form, responding that indeed the relationship would be ‘upgraded’ according to the newly enriched ENP Action Plan, that talks might begin soon for a new agreement to succeed the PCA in 2008, but that it was still premature to talk of a ‘membership perspective’. It also issued the familiar reminder that a free and fair Rada election would confirm Ukraine’s western credentials. The results of that election, held on 26 March, dominated Ukrainian politics for the next four months, during which little progress was made on the European agenda. Reluctant to see Yanukovych’s Party of Regions, which had won the most seats, assemble a governing coalition, Yushchenko’s supporters in Our Ukraine (which had come a distant third) spent three months trying to form an ‘Orange’ coalition with the Yulia Tymoshenko Bloc and the Socialists, while also trying to deny Tymoshenko a return to the prime-ministership. During these offand-on negotiations some pro-Russian regions (favouring Yanukovych) re-ignited the sensitive national language debate by declaring Russian a ‘regional language’. In addition, anti-NATO protests flared up in Crimea over a naval exercise involving ships from the US and other allies and partners. Some detected the hand of Russia once again reaching into Ukrainian domestic politics.34 An ‘Orange’ coalition finally emerged on 22 June only to collapse in recriminations shortly after, plunging the Rada once more into chaos and Ukraine’s European project into doubt. It then appeared likely that the Party of Regions would combine with the Socialists and the Communists. While none of those three parties could be described as pro-western, most observers suggested that such a government could not turn its back on the EU (NATO might be another matter). At the same time it might remove some of the pressure on Brussels to give ground on the issue of membership. As if to confirm this, in June the EU Council refused to permit Commission negotiators even to state that ‘the EU recognizes the European aspirations’ of Ukraine.35 Although


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negotiations might proceed on the proposed new agreement to replace the PCA, the combination of Ukraine’s political shift and Europe’s enlargement fatigue did not seem conducive to a creative breakthrough in their relationship. The power struggle was finally resolved on 3 August by an agreement among Our Ukraine, the Socialists and the Party of Regions, and Yanukovych was nominated by Yushchenko and approved by the Rada as Prime Minister. Some suggested that this compromise placed Ukraine’s European destiny in doubt, others that this was the ultimate betrayal of the Orange Revolution.36 A more positive interpretation was that the governing coalition was a fair representation of Ukrainian voters’ preferences and that to have excluded the Party of Regions would have sent a message to its supporters that the Orange Revolution had been a partisan exercise, not a victory for democracy. The agreement negotiated between Yushchenko and Yanukovych reaffirms Ukraine’s goals of membership in the WTO and the EU, while pledging a referendum on joining NATO. The first two points correspond with Yushchenko’s policies and Yanukovych’s public avowals. The third is a concession not only to Yanukovych, but to Ukrainian public opinion, which has consistently been much less keen on NATO than on the EU. The referendum is unlikely to be held any time soon.

Conclusion For the EU’s approach to Ukraine a Ukrainian government of this colouration raises hope and challenges. Hope stems from the likelihood of political stability and the prospect that Kyiv can maintain some consistency in its policy, at least toward Europe. The challenges include keeping Ukraine’s government focused on completing the tasks laid out under the Action Plan and negotiating an agreement for deeper integration to replace the PCA while continuing to finesse the issue of membership. It will not be just a matter of keeping Ukraine motivated in the absence of the ‘magical carrot’ of accession, difficult though that may be. It is also a matter for political imagination within the EU itself, some of which must be devoted to rethinking the ‘neighbourhood’ concept. The ENP was created as a device to move Ukraine closer to the EU while constraining its ambition to join. The affirmation of diversity among the EU’s neighbours could not disguise their one common feature under the ENP – no prospect of membership. Even at the outset, however, the ENP seemed a ramshackle construct, and it has done little since to dispel that impression. Meanwhile, Ukraine’s political trajectory

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since the Orange Revolution has only confirmed and deepened its exceptionalism. It has little in common with the Mediterranean states, and none of the other European neighbours compares in political, economic or strategic weight, or in the distance it has moved toward Europe. With the formation of the new government in Kyiv, Ukraine’s advocates within the EU have been making this argument with increasing urgency: now is the time to reward those who kept the leadership on its European course. Germany, which assumed the EU presidency in January 2007, proposed scrapping the ENP and placing its European members in a distinct group, acknowledging and indeed encouraging their membership aspirations.37 The completion of the Action Plan and the inauguration of a successor to the PCA in 2008 thus might well see the quiet termination of the ENP. It would be fitting if Ukraine should figure as prominently in its demise as in its creation.

Notes 1. European Commission, Wider Europe – Neighbourhood: A New Framework for Relations with our Eastern and Southern Neighbours. Brussels, 11 March 2003. COM(2003) 104 final. 2. European Commission, European Neighbourhood Policy: Strategy Paper. Brussels, 12 May 2004. COM(2004) 373 final, p. 3. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid., p. 5. For early assessments of the ENP, see K. Smith, ‘The Outsiders: The European Neighbourhood Policy’, International Affairs 81:4 (2003) pp. 757–73 and M. Emerson, ‘European Neighbourhood Policy: Strategy or Placebo?’, CEPS Working Document 215, November 2004. 5. On the concept of ‘Europeanization’, see K. Featherstone and C. Radaelli, eds, The Politics of Europeanization (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 6. E. Landabaru, ‘Hard Facts About Europe’s Soft Power’, Europe’s World, 3 (2006) pp. 31–2. 7. See for example Enlargement Commissioner G. Verheugen’s rebuff of Kuchma at a conference in Salzburg: Financial Times (17 September 2002). 8. European Commission, Wider Europe. 9. EU–Ukraine Cooperation Committee, Joint Report on the Implementation of the Partnership and Cooperation Agreement Between the EU and Ukraine. Brussels, March 2003. 10. See T. Silina, ‘The SES Choice’, Zerkalo Nedeli, 36:461 (20–26 September 2003) http://www.mirror-weekly.com/ie/print/42213. 11. A. Krushelnycki, ‘Ukraine: Kuchma Acknowledges EU Membership Must be Earned’, RFR/RL Feature Article (8 October 2003). 12. For details see Commission Staff Working Paper, European Neighbourhood Policy Country Report: Ukraine. Brussels, 12 May 2004. COM(2004) 373 final. 13. This was in contrast to Russia, which linked the extension of its PCA to a variety of trade issues where it demanded concessions from the EU and which took the negotiations down to the wire.


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14. RFE/RL (30 April 2004). 15. A. Lobjakas, ‘EU Shrugs off Kuchma’s Strategic Maneuverings’, RFE/RL Feature Article (27 July 2004). 16. Pro-NATO Defence Minister Yevhen Marchuk resigned on 22 September, apparently under pressure from Kuchma. See M. Gryshchenko, ‘Ukraine: The Fall of a Lone Wolf’, Transitions Online (29 September 2004). Earlier in the year two other ministers, advocates of closer ties with the EU and NATO, also left the cabinet. See A. Beatty, ‘Ukraine Threatens to Reject New EU Deal’, EUobserver (11 June 2004). 17. Quoted in O. Ivanov, ‘Ukraine: All By Itself’, Transitions Online (29 October 2004). 18. See for example Dutch FM Atzo Nicolai and Commissioner G. Verheugen, addresses to the European Parliament, as reported in A. Lobjakis, ‘Ukraine: EU Says Free Elections are Key to Closer Ties’, RFE/RL Feature Article (28 October 2005). 19. D. Saunders, ‘Election Issue Sparks EU Fear of new Iron Curtain’, The Globe and Mail (25 November 2004). 20. J. Maksymiuk, ‘Analysis: Who Won Ukraine’s Orange Revolution?’, RFE/RL Feature Article (9 December 2004). 21. ‘Yushchenko Urges EU to Admit Ukraine’, Financial Times (10 December 2004). 22. Press Release 15461/04 (Presse 344), 2631st Council Meeting, General Affairs and External Relations, 13–14 December 2004. 23. See for example J. Kucharczyk, ‘Ukraine and the EU: Sustaining the Momentum’, Transitions Online (12 January 2005). 24. Financial Times (25 January 2005). 25. See M. Ruuda, ‘Ukraine Repeats EU Membership Calls’, EUobserver (9 February 2005). The same article notes that Justice Minister Roman Zvarich said that Ukraine’s commitment to the SES would need to be reconsidered since he could not see how it could be squared with admission to the EU. 26. A. Lobjakis, ‘Ukraine: EU Commissioner Pours Cold Water On Kyiv’s Immediate Membership Hopes’, RFE/RL Feature Article (16 February 2005). 27. A. Rettman, ‘EU Backs Yushchenko as Ukraine Returns to Normal’, EUobserver (22 September 2005). 28. Financial Times (9 October 2005); A. Tully, ‘Ukraine: Is Kyiv on Stable Path Toward Integration with World Economy?’ RFE/RL Feature Article (12 October 2005). 29. M. Beunderman, ‘Blow to Kiev as Brussels Closes Door to Further Enlargement’, EUobserver (9 November 2005). See O. Rehn, ‘Speaking Points: 2005 Enlargement Strategy Paper’, Enlargement Package (Strasbourg: European Parliament, 15 November 2005). 30. Council of the European Union, ‘EU–Ukraine Summit, Kiev, 1 December 2005’, Press Release Pres/05/337 (1 December 2005). 31. J. Maksymiuk, ‘Ukraine: Kyiv Tightens Customs Controls on Transdiester’, RFE/RL Feature Article (9 March 2006); Andrew Rettman, ‘Russia Critical of EU Role in Moldova as Transniestria Tension Mounts’, EUobserver (13 March 2006). Russia argued that both Ukraine and the EU had compromised their positions as part of the international conciliatory group overseeing the talks between Moldova and the separatist regime in Tiraspol.

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32. A. Rettman, ‘Ukraine Pays Gas Price for Pro-EU Stance’, EUobserver (9 December 2005); P. Zeihan, ‘Russia’s Gas Strategy: Turning Up the Heat on Ukraine’, Stratfor Geopolitical Intelligence Report (4 January 2006). Zeihan notes that the gas crisis served Yushchenko’s needs both for an issue that underlined EU–Ukraine solidarity and for a ‘Russia’ crisis in the lead-up to the legislative elections. He adds, however, that to keep the gas flowing, Europe might urge Ukraine to accommodate Russia. 33. See for example S. Mueller-Kraenner, ‘Ukraine and Europe’s Energy: Prospects for Ukraine’s Inclusion in EU Energy Policy’, Internationale Politik (Atlantic Edition), 7:3 (2006) pp. 72–6. 34. B. Lombardi, ‘Russia, Ukraine’s NATO Aspirations, and Demonstrations in Crimea’, Issue Brief, Ottawa, Directorate of Strategic Analysis, Department of National Defence (8 June 2006). 35. V. Mite, ‘Ukraine: Kyiv’s Pro-Western Policy in Doubt’, RFE/RL Feature Article (12 July 2006); and A. Rettman, ‘Ukraine Chaos Poses Questions on EU Enlargement’, EUobserver (13 July 2006). 36. J. Maksymiuk, ‘Ukraine: Has Yushchenko Betrayed the Orange Revolution?’, RFE/RL Feature Article (30 September 2005). 37. N. Watt, ‘EU to Downgrade Relations with Middle East Partners’, The Guardian (17 July 2006).

8 Security Concerns in the EU Neighbourhood: The Effects of EU Immigration and Asylum Policy for Ukraine Lyubov Zhyznomirska

Introduction The securitization of migration – that is, the discursive construction of migration as a security issue in political discourse – in the European Union (EU) since the 1980s has received a great deal of attention from scholars.1 From nationalists to welfare chauvinists, immigrants are blamed for undermining national unity, ethnic purity and social cohesiveness, and for abusing social security programmes. The depiction of immigration as a threat to societies in EU member states has blurred distinctions between immigrants and asylum seekers, as well as between legal and illegal immigrants.2 More recently, the figure of ‘the foreigner’ has been associated, through security discourse, with Islamic fundamentalism and the threat of terrorism. Such discursive linkages have resulted in a highly defensive and exclusionary approach to European migration management, with an emphasis on control (both internal and external), policing, surveillance and containment.3 Faced with difficult decisions in managing migration, European governments have sought international cooperation on the issue. The EU migration regime, created through harmonization of immigration and asylum policies among member states, can be understood as an ‘entirety of formal and informal directives, regulations, practices, and conventions adopted at the level of EU institutions that regulate the movement of persons across borders and the entry and stay of non-EU nationals in the common territory’.4 Such a regime, some argue, 147

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affects policy-making in the Union’s member states, candidate states and non-candidate states. Since the 1990s, the EU has gradually been transferring the burden of securing its internal border from illegal immigrants, terrorists, criminal groups and other ‘threats’ to its neighbouring countries, using policy transfers and foreign relations mechanisms. As a result, the EU’s neighbours have been under pressure to adopt policies and institutions that would secure EU borders and control its unwanted immigration.5 A new European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) (2004) emphasizes the importance of reaching the Union’s goals in the area of Justice and Home Affairs (JHA) through cooperation with and assistance to the EU neighbouring countries. In the ENP Strategy Paper, the Commission says: ‘The ENP can also help the Union’s objectives in the area of JHA, in particular in the fight against organized crime and corruption, money laundering and all forms of trafficking, as well as with regard to issues related to migration. It is important for the EU and its partners to aim for the highest degree of complementarity and synergy in the different areas of cooperation’.6 This chapter focuses on how the EU policies on immigration and asylum, as well as intensified cooperation among member states in the area of JHA, produce external policy effects on non-member states. The term ‘Europeanization’ is used here to denote the EU’s impact on states, not bilateral pressures between them.7 The premise of this analysis is that ‘Europeanization’ encompasses ‘securitization’ because among the ‘externalities’ of EU integration and enlargement is the generalization of the EU’s security concerns – at least as these are perceived by the dominant groups in EU policy-making. The hypothesis is that the EU, seeking to create an ‘area of freedom, security, and justice’, exports the burden of migration management to its neighbouring countries and thus creates security risks – if not real, then perceived – for the countries to the East of the EU. The EU migration regime is extended to bordering countries, which are turned into gate keepers to protect ‘Fortress Europe’ from illegal immigrants. These states must also share the burden of asylum seekers with the EU. As much attention in the literature on Europeanization and the effects of EU enlargement has been devoted to the study of member states or candidate countries, it is worth exploring what effects EU governance has produced in the neighbouring non-accession countries. Thus this chapter utilizes a case study of Ukraine, a new eastern neighbour of the EU, in order to explore whether shifting the responsibility of international migration management can destabilize neighbouring countries that lack experience and the institutional capacity to effectively deal with

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the problem. Transit countries frequently do not have the infrastructure, resources or the juridical norms and institutions necessary to guarantee the protection and security of immigrants and asylum seekers. This results in the securitization of immigration as a way to attract resources to deal with unwanted migration. Therefore, cooperation and assistance, rather than the off-loading of responsibility onto the neighbouring states, should be a priority for the EU if the area of freedom, security and justice is to be shared on the European continent. The next section briefly sketches the changing nature of member states’ cooperation on immigration and asylum issues. Thereafter follows a review of the existing literature on the externalities of the EU migration regime. The final section provides the case study of Ukraine.

EU cooperation on immigration and asylum The beginning of cooperation among EU member states on the issue of immigration-as-security can be traced to the mid-1980s. The Single European Act (1986) aimed to achieve freedom of movement for goods, capital and labour within the European Community (EC). It also reaffirmed the member states’ commitment to establishing a Single European Market, which necessitated the creation of a common security regime. The Schengen Agreement, signed in 1985 by five EC countries (France, West Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands), was drafted to eliminate internal border checks between the signatory states. Order and security were to be reconciled with freedom of movement for EU nationals and third-country nationals (TCNs) legally residing in the territory of a member state by means of increased and improved coordination among the police, customs and the judiciary of the signatory EU states and third countries. The EU external borders were to be strengthened through the sharing of best practices of border checks and surveillance, the provision of common training and education for border personnel, as well as the introduction of measures necessary to combat terrorism and organized crime, illegal migration, and trafficking in goods and human beings. The Schengen Information System (SIS) was introduced to share information on asylum claims, illegal migrants and any other required information. The fortification and increased policing of external borders was justified on the grounds that threats were emanating from organized crime, terrorists, illegal migrants and traffickers of drugs, goods and humans. Similarly, immigration was criminalized by linking the entry of illegal immigrants into the EU with the cross-border activities of organized crime networks. European


governments sought to cooperate on border control and illegal entry measures, framing them as collaboration on internal security.8 From 1957 to 1986, immigration policy was a national prerogative.9 The next period (1986–1993) was characterized by informal intergovernmental cooperation with confidential negotiations held outside of the institutional framework of the EU. In 1990 the Dublin Convention was drafted and negotiated, introducing new asylum processing measures and the ‘safe third country’ status, allowing the negotiation of readmission agreements with third countries. In A. Geddes’ view, the Dublin Convention facilitated the ‘off-loading’ of responsibility for managing migration to ‘a Central and Eastern European “buffer zone” ’.10 Approved measures on asylum processing had a significant effect on central and eastern European countries that had to adapt these measures as one of the requirements for EU membership, without being able to partake in the negotiation process, and with no option to opt out. Thus the Dublin Convention turned these countries into ‘buffer zones’ that were created to control migration and absorb immigrants from the EU; asylum seekers entering the EU from these ‘safe countries’ could be turned back in accordance with readmission agreements. Securitycentred measures to combat immigration were prevalent during this period, resulting in highly restricted access to the European space. Since 1993, the member states have started formal intergovernmental cooperation on asylum and immigration policies. The Maastricht Treaty (1992) established an intergovernmental pillar dealing with JHA, as well as the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). The Maastricht Treaty recognized the issues of common concern for the EU member states, such as asylum policy; external frontiers; immigration policy and policy regarding TCNs; conditions of TCNs’ entry and movement within the EU; and combat against unauthorized immigration, residence and work by TCNs.11 The 1997 Treaty of Amsterdam declared the EU ‘an area of freedom, security and justice’ and created a DirectorateGeneral for Justice and Home Affairs.12 The Treaty incorporated the Schengen acquis as part of the EU legal framework under a separate Title IV. The Amsterdam Treaty also stipulated that applicant countries must accept the Schengen acquis in full and conferred the authority for negotiating readmission agreements to the European Commission. An essential step forward in the development of a common approach was the first European Council Meeting on JHA in Tampere in 1999. The summit meeting of heads of government called for a common approach to asylum and migration issues, with an emphasis on partnership with countries of origin and transit of migrants, improved and effective


asylum measures, and fair treatment for third country nationals who legally reside in the member states. It was agreed to incorporate standard readmission clauses as a part of all association and cooperation agreements concluded with third countries. Since then, in its international cooperation, the EU has focused, on the one hand, on the development and implementation of common policies and approaches to deal with JHA, and, on the other hand, on ‘cooperation with migrant-sending or transit countries to control, contain or prevent migration and refugee flows’.13 The Hague Programme (2004) has further developed the common management of migration, the setting up of a common asylum regime, the equitable treatment of the TCNs, and the partnership with third countries in managing migration. The European Commission and member states have focused on the development of EU policies to halt unauthorized immigration (i.e., internal security) and to eliminate the root causes of both legal and illegal immigration through external policies of assistance and humanitarian aid (i.e., external security). The European Commission emphasized prevention as a viable option for addressing the causes of immigration and forced displacement through development assistance and humanitarian relief efforts and through bilateral agreements with immigrant sending, refugee producing and transit countries.14 Indeed, as C. Lindstrøm is right to point out, ‘current policy methods and instruments work to establish legitimacy for the denial of protection and the conclusion of readmission agreements, with a view to shifting responsibility away from the European territorial core’.15 C. Bowsell, in turn, distinguishes three types of policy goals pursued by European national governments through international cooperation in the realm of international migration: firstly, control of illegal entry and human trafficking; secondly, ‘burden-sharing’, and; thirdly, migration prevention. While European governments have been working to harmonize their immigration and asylum policies in order to distribute responsibilities for illegal migrants and asylum seekers between member states, in their relations with third countries the EU and member states have been mainly focused on border control and law enforcement issues. Lindstrøm suggests that ‘migration control and law enforcement may be described as having been outsourced to third countries in exchange for intensified trade and development cooperation’.16 This characterization is accurate in light of the ENP and the development of bilateral agreements and action plans with each of the neighbourhood countries because conditionality and assistance have become the main tools in bilateral relations. The external dimension of maintaining the


EU’s ‘area of freedom, security and justice’ has become increasingly important in EU governance.17

The externalities of the EU immigration and asylum policy European integration is strongly founded on the idea of common security – political, economic and cultural. Viewing immigrants as a threat to the existing European social order has resulted in a highly defensive and exclusionary approach to policy-making in this area when the preference is given to ‘lowest common denominator dynamics when it comes to migrants’ rights, the focus on technical police solutions such as databases and biometrics, and the externalization of migration control outside of the EU’.18 Governments fear having border controls less stringent than their neighbours, lest their countries become attractive destinations for refugees and illegal immigrants. J. van Selm observes that the movement of people across geopolitical frontiers can be viewed either as strengthening or weakening regional security, but the movement of EU nationals within the EU is not subjected to the same degree of critical scrutiny or suspicion as the entry into the EU space by non-nationals.19 Nationalistpopulist discourse has associated ‘non-European’ immigrants, in particular, with a host of societal risks, from increasing unemployment to terrorism. S. Lavenex and E. M. Uçarer provide a convincing account of the externalities of the EU migration regime, arguing that EU immigration policies produce external effects on non-EU states that deal with the Union. Although Europeanization has been narrowly defined as ‘“the impact of European integration at the national level of the Member States” (Knill and Lehmkuhl, 2002: 255), its dynamics can also be extended to states outside of the EU in so far as they refer to “a process of change in national institutional and policy practices that can be attributed to European integration” (Hix and Goetz, 2000: 27)’.20 In this regard, EU immigration policies have implications for destination countries of asylum seekers and immigrants, as well as for the countries of their origin and transit. The question then is: how can one determine that changes happening in the policies of non-member states can be attributed to European integration and/or pressures from the EU? As Lavenex and Uçarer point out, EU policies can be designed intentionally to have external effects on third countries (i.e., to purposefully export common policies through bilateral or multilateral agreements). They may also reflect ‘unintended


consequences of other intentional activities’ and cause the extension of EU policies to the countries with which the Union cooperates.21 In turn, another important dimension is whether the effects in third countries occur because of states’ voluntary action or as a result of coerced adaptation and change. Lavenex and Uçarer suggest, from an institutionalist perspective, that non-member states’ established institutional linkages with the EU ‘indicate the content and scope of [policy] transfer intended on the part of the EU’.22 These linkages correspond to the geographic proximity of a country to the EU and determine the scope of externalities felt by each country. EU policies directed at the management of migration flows will necessarily affect both the countries of destination and the countries of origin of the migrants: ‘Changes in the immigration policy of one country have implications for the immigration policy of other countries: a more permissive policy may lead to a reduction of immigration flows in neighbouring countries, while a more restrictive policy may increase the number of migrants seeking entry in other countries. ... Both the territorial scope of the EU and its importance as a major destination for voluntary and forced migrants imply that common policies aiming at the extension or reduction of immigrant inflows will necessarily have implications for other countries, both countries of destination and of origin’.23 As has been mentioned in the Europeanization literature,24 a country’s aspiration to EU membership provides the EU with significant leverage for the transfer of European rules, norms and policies, as well as for the shaping of that country’s administrative and institutional structures, a pattern widely studied in the context of the recent accession of the central and eastern European countries (CEECs). While conditionality played a great role in the European Commission’s negotiations with the acceding CEECs, its effects were less significant in the case of former Soviet countries (excluding the Baltic states). With regard to such neighbouring states as Moldova, Belarus, Russia and Ukraine, where accession has not been put on the table for discussion, the EU does not have the same leverage to impose its internal policy agenda. The ENP, however, was designed to ‘take the opportunity offered by enlargement to enhance relations with its neighbours on the basis of shared values’ and ‘to avoid drawing new dividing lines in Europe and to promote stability and prosperity within and beyond the new borders of the Union’.25 As J. Kelley suggests, the European Commission, viewing enlargement as the most successful EU foreign policy, drafted the ENP using the model – and sometimes the content – of the previous accession agreements.26

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Yet, the fact that there is no promise of institutional association can be viewed as an attempt ‘to find a substitute for the leverage provided by the promise of membership’.27 The reality, nevertheless, is that following the last enlargement to the East, the EU now borders countries that are viewed as ‘soft’ security threats – as countries of both the origin and transit of illegal or irregular migrants, asylum seekers, criminals, and drug and human traffickers.

The externalization of European migration management: A case study of Ukraine The case of Ukraine is interesting and important because Ukraine is a country of transit for illegal immigrants and asylum seekers and also a source of both legal and illegal immigrants. Its close geographic location to the EU and the opening of borders since Ukraine’s 1991 independence has turned the country into a transit area for illegal immigrants and asylum seekers from Africa, Asia and the Middle East.28 Ukraine has liberalized its borders for the legal movement of people, and economic crises have pushed some Ukrainians to seek jobs and earnings abroad. Ukraine’s long and poorly guarded frontiers (with corrupt officials engaged in the illegal transportation of migrants) and the absence of readmission agreements with neighbouring countries make it a widely used transit country.29 After the May 2004 enlargement Ukraine’s western border has become the eastern frontier of the strictly guarded EU area. This, in turn, has led the EU to place additional pressure on Ukraine to guard the European territory, as well as to keep the Ukraine’s external borders secure. Official statistics and estimates of the numbers of illegal non-Ukrainian migrants transiting through Ukraine vary greatly. L. Polyakov points out that the number of illegal migrants detained by Ukrainian border guards has increased from 148 persons in 1991 to approximately 14,646 in 1999.30 He mentions Afghans, Indians and Chinese among the most frequently detained groups. According to the 2004 Migration Report of the State Committee on Nationalities and Migration, the number of people trying to cross Ukrainian borders illegally in 2004 for migration purposes was 2918 persons (of these: 610 Chinese, 532 Russians and 319 Georgians). The largest number (1548 persons) of illegal migrants was detained crossing the Ukrainian-Slovak border. Elsewhere, 769 were arrested on the Ukrainian-Polish border and 391 on the UkrainianRussian border.31 The Report also mentions that, according to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, 12,271 persons were deported from Ukraine


in 2004. However, some authors (e.g., Polyakov) refer to government estimates of illegal entrants as high as 35,000 to 50,000 per year. O. Malynovska, in turn, points out that between 1991 and 2003, Ukrainian border guards detained about 100,000 illegal migrants trying to cross Ukraine’s western border.32 While it is hard to argue about the intention of ‘people on the move’, some studies show that many illegal migrants detained crossing Ukraine’s borders had no intention to stay in Ukraine.33 As the control of the common EU–Ukraine border becomes stricter and it gets harder to cross into the EU, illegal migrants, intending to enter the EU, are forced to stay in Ukraine waiting for the better time to reach their points of destination.34 Ukraine is thus turned into a transit zone through which routes for illegal migrants into the EU are laid. Also, it becomes a space for stopping the illegal migrants and asylum seekers unwanted in the EU. Ukraine, faced with the problem of migration management, adopted its first laws to control immigration from the former Soviet countries and to regulate the status of citizens, foreigners and persons without statehood in the early 1990s. In 1993 the Ukrainian parliament, reacting to an increasing number of asylum seekers from the former Soviet republics, passed the ‘Law on Refugees’. It was later replaced by a new law on refugees, which allowed Ukraine to accede in 2002 to the 1951 United Nations Convention on Refugees and its 1967 Protocol. In addition to that, other major laws in the realm of migration management were adopted (e.g., ‘On Immigration’, a new law ‘On Citizenship’, the amendments to the law ‘On the Legal Status of Foreigners’, and ‘On the State Borders of Ukraine’). All of these laws were adopted in full compliance with EU standards. According to V. Chumak, such convergence of the Ukrainian law with the related European law on the management of legal migration was voluntary, but also necessitated by the communitarization of the Schengen acquis in 1999.35 In addition, some requirements (e.g., to improve the law on refuge and asylum issues; to establish a single governmental body responsible for migration-related issues; to improve border management) were stipulated as a part of the EU–Ukraine Action Plan on JHA. Therefore, such policy transfer can be viewed as a mix of voluntary and involuntary adaptation and as a response to the externalities of EU migration policies. EU–Ukraine cooperation has been based on the following major agreements: the Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) of 14 June 1994; A Common Strategy on Ukraine of December 1999; the

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EU–Ukraine Action Plan on JHA (December 2001); and the EU–Ukraine Action Plan (February 2005) adopted in the framework of the ENP. Both the PCA (1994) and The Common Strategy on Ukraine (1999) emphasize support for democratic and economic transition in Ukraine, cooperation to ensure stability and security on the European continent, and increased political, economic and cultural cooperation. The priorities of cooperation in the framework of the EU–Ukraine Action Plan on JHA (2001) were determined at the Ministerial level in 2002. They included such issues as the negotiation of an EU–Ukraine readmission agreement, better migration management, improvement of border management, judicial reform, implementation of the rule of law, and elimination of organized crime and terrorism.36 The 2001 Action Plan was incorporated as a part of the EU–Ukraine Action Plan agreed upon in the framework of the ENP in February 2005.37 In EU–Ukraine cooperation, significant efforts have been directed at the harmonization of legislation, maximization of government capacity, and promotion of cross-border cooperation. Measures to ‘combat’ irregular migration have also received a great deal of attention. In the framework of the EU–Ukraine Action Plan on JHA (2001), ‘migration and asylum’ and ‘trans-border cooperation and visa policies’ were listed as two first areas of cooperation.38 The EU and Ukraine have closely cooperated on such issues as visa regulation, border management, irregular migration, asylum regulation, human trafficking, and return and readmission policies. Using the principle of conditionality, the EU has made a readmission agreement a prerequisite for Ukraine to be granted a simplified visa regime for its citizens. As a country of both origin and transit of migrants, Ukraine, evidently, will not benefit from signing such an agreement. Nevertheless, it might be forced to comply in order to get its reward – a simplified visa regime for its citizens. To lessen this conditionality and the negative consequences of a readmission agreement, the Ukrainian government seeks the support of the European Commission and EU member state governments to negotiate readmission agreements with its neighbours.39 It is also interested in the increased financial and technical support from the EU to build up the infrastructure suitable for readmission of non-Ukrainian illegal migrants and potential asylum seekers and refugees. Similarly to the newly admitted CEECs, because of its future prospect for European integration and its national interests, Ukraine is willing to trade freedom of movement of its citizens for restrictive measures for citizens of those countries which are on the EU’s ‘black’ visa list. As of October 2006 the European and Ukrainian sides


have initialled the readmission agreement and have agreed on the conditions of the simplified visa regime for Ukrainian nationals at the October 2006 EU–Ukraine summit. As these agreements will have to be ratified by the parliaments of Ukraine and EU member states, domestic power coalitions, especially in Ukraine, may play a significant role in whether these agreements are ratified ‘as is’, or even ratified at all. Willing to join the EU, Ukraine’s new leadership seeks to repair a relationship of mistrust that had developed as a result of Ukraine’s inconsistency in democratizing and transforming the country since the 1990s. Ukrainian authorities focus on improving the legislative base, strengthening border cooperation with neighbouring countries, and improving the organizational and institutional framework for dealing with illegal immigration. More attention has been paid to increasing the state’s capacity in assisting individuals detained while transiting through Ukraine. Restrictive measures, however, are on the rise, and detention and deportation are used by Ukrainian authorities as the main policy instrument to halt immigration.40 It is important to note that the securitization of immigration in Europe has created a narrow understanding of immigration as a law enforcement issue.41 As a result, immigrants are perceived by the European public as posing societal risks. Although the situation with immigrants in Ukraine has not yet been thoroughly studied, the issue of immigration is also interpreted by some officials and bureaucrats as a ‘security concern’. Polyakov, for example, emphasizes the criminal nature of transit illegal immigrants and describes them as a significant challenge for Ukraine: ‘In general, growing illegal migration to Ukraine contributes to the growth of criminality and corruption, and to overloaded social support systems and infrastructures. It threatens cultural identity and can bring social and ethnic tensions. It is not a fantasy any more to conclude that illegal migrants could well have terrorist backgrounds and intentions. In the end, the settling of illegal migrants in Ukraine does not support economic development of the country (unlike the case of the European Union, where cheap labor is in demand), and it generally threatens Ukraine’s relationship with the EU in future’.42 Such a negative portrayal of a generalized ‘illegal’ is not unique in Ukraine. Mass media frequently report stories on immigrants from Asia and Africa bringing unknown diseases and ‘exotic’ religions and customs, or being involved in drugs or contraband business.43 In its report, the State Committee on Nationalities and Migration reports on crimes committed by illegal immigrants, threats to public health, and the number of detentions and administrative fines.44 These claims have not been


substantiated by research on the situation and activities of immigrants. As G. Uehling points out, xenophobic and discriminatory statements about asylum seekers and refugees were made during her interviews in Ukraine, even by state officials who deal with these groups.45 Combined with its policies, the EU exports its social construction of immigrants as inherent ‘threats’ who must be combated, stopped at the borders, and deported. Because immigration is dealt with on the level of justice and internal affairs officials, border guards and police officers, the Ukrainian public receives its information about immigrants from these law-and-order authorities. Ukrainian officials, who cooperate with EU authorities in the area of migration and asylum management, learn and adopt both positive and negative practices for dealing with migration. They partake in the discursive construction of an immigrant as a ‘threat’ to Ukrainian society, while little effort is being made to distinguish between legal and illegal migrants. Concurrently, whereas the Ukrainian state seeks the support of the EU in combating illegal migration throughout its territory, it portrays Ukrainian labour migrants (either legal or illegal) as hard-working individuals undergoing hardships abroad in order to provide for their families. Such ‘doubled’ construction of ‘immigrants’ merits further study. Evidently, it is not appropriate to consider Ukraine a ‘blank page’ on which the EU discourse on immigration (hardly homogeneous but, nevertheless, heavily influenced by populist anti-immigrant rhetoric) is easily written. Nonetheless, one could argue that EU practices and policies set models for other countries to follow. As for indigenous influences on the Ukrainian national discourse on immigration, it should be remembered that Ukraine is an immigrant-sending country and it does not yet have a need for low-paid immigrant labour. Refugees and asylum seekers, however, pose a problem to the state because of the state’s lack of resources and institutional capacities to provide these people with the level of support to which Ukraine has committed. Ukraine violates the human rights of returned immigrants and asylum seekers.46 There are no satisfactory institutional, legal and material resources to guarantee the security of either illegal immigrants or genuine refugees and asylum seekers, nor is the assistance from the EU adequate. As some research shows, there is hostility toward foreigners in Ukraine, especially toward Chechens and Afghans, who face discrimination and deportation even when they have circumstances to become UNHCRrecognized refugees.47 Unlike in western Europe, immigration has not yet become the issue in electoral campaigns, and it is hardly debated by the Ukrainian


public.48 Nevertheless, the Ukrainian press has a tendency to focus mainly on negative aspects of immigration, connecting it to crime, drug use and public health issues. In addition, political elites’ willingness to show Ukraine’s ability to fight illegal migration leads politicians to focus on the association between immigration and ‘security threats’; little distinction is being made between asylum seekers and economic immigrants. The discursive construction of ‘the threat’ posed by ‘illegals from warm countries’ may cause negative perceptions, fear and intolerance to racially and ethnically different populations. This may cause hostility, intolerance and violence against ethnically different immigrant groups present in the country. These developments are worthy of scholarly attention. As mentioned above, a country’s aspiration to membership in the EU provides the latter with significant leverage for transferring rules, norms and policies, as well as in shaping administrative and institutional structures. While the ENP can be viewed as a process of bringing Ukraine closer to the EU in terms of cultural and economic cooperation, the ENP does not satisfy the Ukrainian goal of political association. The EU–Ukraine Action Plan in the framework of the ENP is not considered by the Ukrainian side to be an adequate foundation for the development of EU–Ukraine cooperation, as it does not acknowledge Ukraine as an integral part of a united Europe. Rather, the ENP is viewed as only one of the strategies that will prepare Ukraine for European integration and will allow it to enter into a qualitatively new legal framework of relationships with the EU. According to the ex-Minister of Foreign Affairs of Ukraine, Borys Tarasyuk, the ENP should be replaced by the association agreement that would set clear perspectives for Ukraine’s membership in the Union.49 There is a clear divergence of interests between the EU and Ukraine; while the EU wants Ukraine to put resources into the policing of its western borders, Ukraine is interested in demarcating and maintaining control of its eastern borders, which are the main access points for illegal migrants and criminal groups. At the same time, Ukrainian authorities do not want to allow for new ‘curtains’ or ‘walls’ to be built on its western frontiers. For Ukraine, the Schengen acquis must mean not only border security, but also the opening of doors to Europe for its citizens and businesses. Though more restricted with regard to mobility of Ukrainian citizens, the EU is willing to facilitate cross-border cooperation in order to avoid new dividing lines being erected across the borderland European communities. As Benita Ferrero-Waldner, the European Commissioner for External Relations and European Neighbourhood Policy, says, ‘Borders

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cannot be solely about barriers and obstacles. They must work flexibly as a facilitator of economic, social and cultural exchanges’.50 In this aspect, the interests of both sides converge. Although the neighbourhood association may illustrate ‘the limits of a strong unilateral approach favoring one-sided EU interests’,51 the ‘joint ownership’ of the action plans and individual approaches to each of the neighbours create a virtual space for dialogue and cooperation. As Europeans ‘want stability in [our] neighbourhood and thus added security for ourselves’,52 development of democracy and human rights protection will be encouraged and rewarded, providing good incentives for the neighbours to reform. As the ENP develops to accommodate bilateral relationships with each of the EU neighbours, further developments into how non-member and non-accession countries adapt to European integration will be interesting to follow, especially in light of the new environment of international security concerns and the debates about the future of the EU project.

Conclusion This chapter exemplifies that, as in the case of Ukraine, intensified cooperation and communitarization of EU immigration and asylum policies, as well as increased importance attached to JHA policy, have been impacting countries of origin and transit of migrants. Harmonization of immigration and asylum policies between member states affects non-EU countries, which have to adapt to the changing conditions of access for TCNs to the EU territory. EU bordering countries, in particular, are turned into transit zones through which the flows of illegal migrants are channelled. Gradual externalization of migration control outside of the EU, achieved by policy transfer and foreign relations mechanisms, might endanger the social security of countries that lack experience, financial resources and developed infrastructure to deal with the challenges of illegal migration. In addition, these countries frequently lack resources to provide security and protection for those seeking refuge and asylum. By exporting the burden of migration management to its neighbouring countries and thus keeping potential immigrants out of its territory, the EU will not necessarily achieve its goal of creating a free, secure and just space for its citizens but will be threatened by unsecured neighbours unable to cope with the growing insecurities of their citizens. These insecurities have to do with a perceived competition for scarce resources (i.e., welfare, education, health) between the local population and immigrants treated as


‘occupants’; with government’s inability to protect its territory; and with the growing perception that Ukraine has to deal with the problem ‘created’ for it by the EU. Blurred distinctions between illegal and legal immigrants and the absence of public dialogue about the positive role of immigrants in Ukrainian society create few openings for accommodation of the ‘racially’ and ethnically different population groups that are legally present in the country. The EU migration regime extends to bordering countries, which voluntarily (or not) adapt to the policies of the EU. The pressure that the EU puts on its neighbours to implement similar practices for securing frontiers impels the expansion of an immigration regime that is discriminatory and exclusionary. Positive results in managing international migration may only be achieved if the interests of both immigrant-sending and -receiving societies can be reconciled.

Notes 1. See J. Huysmans, ‘The European Union and the Securitization of Migration’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 38 (2000) pp. 751–77; V. Mitsilegas, J. Monar and W. Rees, eds, The European Union and Internal Security: Guardian of the People? (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003); A. Tsoukala, ‘Looking at Migrants as Enemies’, in D. Bigo and E. Guild, eds, Controlling Frontiers: Free Movement Into and Within Europe (Aldershot, England: Ashgate Publishing, 2005), p. 161–92; O. Wæver et al., Identity, Migration and the New Security Agenda in Europe (London: Pinter Publishers, 1993); O. Wæver, ‘European Security Identities’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 34 (1996), pp. 103–31. 2. In this paper, the author uses the concept ‘migration’ in its general meaning as the movement of people from one country to another. Consequently, the concept ‘migrant’ generally denotes the categories of ‘people on the move’ – immigrants, asylum-seekers and refugees. 3. On this ‘spatial approach to security and control’, see E. Bort, ‘European Borders in Transition: The Internal and External Frontiers of the European Union’, in H. N. Nicol and I. Townsend-Gault, eds, Holding the Line: Borders in a Global World (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005), pp. 63–89. 4. S. Lavenex and E. M. Uçarer, ‘The Emergent EU Migration Regime and Its External Impact’, in Lavenex and Uçarer, eds, Migration and Externalities of European Integration (Oxford: Lexington Books, 2003), p. 3. 5. Lavenex and Uçarer, ‘The External Dimension of Europeanization: The Case of Immigration Policies’, Cooperation and Conflict: Journal of the Nordic International Studies Association, 39 (2004) pp. 417–43. 6. Commission of the European Communities, Communication on European Neighbourhood Policy. Strategy Paper. Brussels, 12 May 2004. COM(2004) 373 final, p. 6. 7. H. Grabbe, The EU’s Transformative Power: Europeanization through Conditionality in Central and Eastern Europe (Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006).

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8. See C. Boswell, European Migration Policies in Flux: Changing Patterns of Inclusion and Exclusion (The Royal Institute of International Affairs, European Programme: Blackwell, 2003); Mitsilegas et al., The European Union and Internal Security. 9. A. Geddes, The Politics of Migration and Immigration in Europe (London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi: Sage, 2003). 10. Ibid., p. 136. 11. Ibid., p. 135. 12. C. Lindstrøm, ‘European Union Policy on Asylum and Immigration. Addressing the Root Causes of Forced Migration: A Justice and Home Affairs Policy of Freedom, Security and Justice?’, Social Policy and Administration, 39 (2005) p. 591. 13. Boswell, European Migration, p. 99. 14. Commission of the European Communities, Communication on European Neighbourhood Policy Strategy Paper. 15. Lindstrøm, ‘European Policy’, p. 588. 16. Ibid., p. 592. 17. A Strategy on the External Dimension of the Area of Freedom, Security and Justice was developed by the European Commission in October 2005 at the request of the European Council of 16–17 June 2005 as a part of the Hague Programme aimed at strengthening freedom, security and justice in the European Union. According to this Strategy, cooperation with third countries on migration, asylum and border management is among the top political priorities of the EU. Further, the Commission has developed The Thematic Programme for the Cooperation with Third Countries in the Areas of Migration and Asylum (January 2006) ‘to provide support for third countries so that they can better manage migratory flows’. Funding of this programme will be allocated to eligible countries taking into account respect for democratic principles and the rule of law and records on human and minority rights. See Commission of the European Communities, Communication on A Strategy on the External Dimension of the Area of Freedom, Security and Justice. Brussels, 12 October 2005. COM(2005), 491 final; Commission of the European Communities, Thematic Programme for the Cooperation with Third Countries in the Areas of Migration and Asylum. Brussels, 25 January 2006. COM(2006), 26 final. 18. V. Guiraudon, ‘Drawing the EU’s Borders: Immigration Policy’, in N. Jabko and C. Parsons, eds, With US or Against US? European Trends in American Perspective (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 326. 19. See J. van Selm, ‘Immigration and Regional Security’, in E. Guild and J. van Selm, eds, International Migration and Security: Opportunities and Challenges (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), pp. 11–27. 20. Cited in Lavenex and Uçarer, ‘The External Dimension of Europeanization’, p. 419, with reference to C. Knill and D. Lehmkuhl ‘Europeanizing Domestic Regulatory Policies’, European Journal of Political Research 41 (2002) pp. 255–280; and S. Hix, Simon and K. H. Goetz. Europeanised Politics? European Integration and National Political Systems (London: Frank Cass Publishers, 2000). 21. Ibid., p. 420. 22. Ibid., p. 423. 23. Ibid., p. 425.

EU Immigration and Asylum Policy for Ukraine 163 24. See H. Grabbe, ‘Stabilizing the East While Keeping Out the Easterners: Internal and External Security Logics in Conflict’, in Lavenex and Uçarer, Migration and Externalities, pp. 91–104; H. Grabbe, The EU’s Transformative Power; F. Schimmelfennig and U. Sedelmeier, ‘Introduction; Conceptualizing the Europeanization of Central and Eastern Europe’, in F. Schimmelfennig and U. Sedelmeier, eds, The Europeanization of Central and Eastern Europe (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2005), pp. 1–28. 25. Commission of the European Communities, Communication on Wider Europe – Neighbourhood: A New Framework for Relations with Our Eastern and Southern Neighbours. Brussels, 11 March 2003. COM(2003), 104 final. 26. J. Kelley, ‘New Wine in Old Wineskins: Promoting Political Reforms through the New European Neighbourhood Policy’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 44 (2006) pp. 29–55. 27. Lavenex, ‘Justice and Home Affairs and the EU’s New Neighbours: Governance Beyond Membership?’, in K. Henderson, ed., The Area of Freedom, Security and Justice in the Enlarged Europe (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), p. 105. 28. O. Malynovska reports that during the Soviet times, immigration into Ukraine was prevalent over emigration and was predominantly composed of former Soviet nationalities. In the early 1990s the repatriation of nationalities that lived in the former Soviet republics, as well as the inflow of refugees fleeing armed conflicts and civil wars in some post-Soviet states, dominated the migration patterns. Since the mid-1990s the ethnic constitution of people immigrating to Ukraine has changed in favour of those groups that had not historically resided there (i.e., ethnically and culturally different immigrants from Asia, Africa and the Middle East). See Malynovska, ‘Caught between East and West, Ukraine Struggles with Its Migration Policy’, Migration Information Source, http://www.migrationinformation.org/Profiles/display.cfm?ID=365. 29. Ukraine has a border of 103 kilometres with Hungary, 526 kilometres with Poland, 97 kilometres with Slovakia, and 169 kilometres to the south and 362 kilometres to the west with Romania. On some cases of involvement of Ukrainian officials and border guards in transportation of illegal migrants, see V. Pavlyukh, ‘Ne Kozhen Nelegal Dijde do Europy ... Prote Bazhauchykh Tysyachi’, Dzerkalo Tyzhnya (Mirror Weekly), 12:387 (29 March – 5 April 2002) and V. Martyn, ‘Shlyakh na Zakhid – Cherez Zakarpattya’, Dzerkalo Tyzhnya (Mirror Weekly), 42:621 (4–10 November 2006). 30. L. Polyakov, ‘Illegal Migration: Ukraine’, European Security, 13 (2004) pp. 18–19. 31. Derzhavnyy Comitet Natsional’nostej ta Migratsii Ukrainy (DCNMU), Migratsijna sytuatsia v Ukraini za 2004 rik (Migration Situation in Ukraine in 2004), http://www.scmn.gov.ua/ua/a?migration_way. 32. It is difficult to predict the total number of illegal migrants when many of them enter the Ukrainian territory legally but then violate their status and become illegal (i.e., without a proper documentation and allowance to stay). Furthermore, Ukraine has no single government body responsible for all migration-related issues. Rather, migration-related responsibilities are divided among several executive agencies. 33. See G. Uehling, ‘Irregular and Illegal Migration through Ukraine’, International Migration, 42 (2004) pp. 77–109.

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34. See Martyn, ‘Shlyakh na Zakhid – Cherez Zakarpattya’. 35. V. Chumak, ‘Zaprovadzhennya Shengens’koi Ugody v Krainax CSE ta Baltii: Naslidky dlya Natsional’noi Migratsijnoi polityky Ukrainy’ (Accession to the Schengen Agreement by the CEECs and the Baltic States: Consequences for the National Migration Policy of Ukraine), Perspektyvni Doslidzhennya, 20 (2003) pp. 2–18. 36. Commission of the European Communities, EU-Ukraine Action Plan on Justice and Home Affairs (2001) (in Ukrainian), http://ukraine-eu.mfa.gov.ua/ eu/ua/publication/print/2233.htm. 37. Commission of the European Communities, ENP EU/Ukraine Action Plan, http://ec.europa.eu/comm/world/enp/pdf/action_plans/ukraine_enp_ap_ final_en.pdf. 38. See Commission of the European Communities, EU–Ukraine Action Plan on Justice and Home Affairs. 39. Although Ukraine has signed such agreements with Georgia and Moldova, it has not been successful in completing such agreements with its largest suppliers of illegal migrants – Belarus, Russia, China and Uzbekistan. It aimed to work out the agreement with Russia before signing an agreement with the EU, as Russian un-demarcated borders with Ukraine pose the largest concerns regarding illegal transit migration. 40. Human Rights Watch, ‘Ukraine: On the Margins. Rights Violations against Migrants and Asylum Seekers at the New Eastern Border of the European Union’, Human Rights Watch, 17:8 (2005), http://hrw.org/reports/2005/ ukraine1105/ukraine1105.pdf. 41. See Uehling, ‘Irregular and Illegal Migration’; Guiraudon, ‘Drawing the EU’s Borders’. 42. Polyakov, ‘Illegal Migration’, p. 28. 43. See Martyn, ‘Shlyakh na Zakhid – Cherez Zakarpattya’; Pavlyukh, ‘Ne Kozhen Nelegal Dijde’; Uehling, ‘Irregular and Illegal Migration’; and I. Pidluska, ‘Borderland or Direct Neighbourhood: Ukraine–EU Relations in the Field of the JHA Beyond the EU Enlargement,’ http://www.policy.hu/pidluska/inna1.html. 44. DCNM, Migratsijna sytuatsia v Ukraini za 2004 rik. 45. Uehling, ‘Irregular and Illegal Migration’. 46. See Human Rights Watch, ‘Ukraine on the Margins’. 47. See, for example, Uehling, ‘Irregular and Illegal Migration’ and Human Rights Watch, ‘Ukraine’. 48. It should be mentioned, however, that in the 2006 parliamentary campaign in Ukraine some marginal extreme right parties such as ‘Freedom’ and UNA-UNSO, did campaign using anti-immigrant slogans and attracting the public’s attention to the presence of ‘foreigners’ and ‘occupants’ in Ukraine. It will be interesting to follow whether and how these issues will develop into the topic on which electoral campaigns will be built in Ukraine. 49. B. Tarasyuk, speech at the International Conference ‘Ukraine and European Integration: Challenges and Opportunities’, Kyiv, 6 July 2006. 50. B. Ferrero-Waldner, ‘The European Neighbourhood Policy: The EU’s Newest Foreign Policy Instrument’, European Foreign Affairs Review, 11 (2006) p. 140. 51. Lavenex and Uçarer, ‘The External Dimension of Europeanization’, p. 434. 52. Ferrero-Waldner, ‘The European Neighbourhood Policy’, p. 142.

9 The Bologna Process: Exploring Mechanisms of European Enlargement in Ukraine Tetyana Koshmanova

Introduction The process of European integration in education is no longer simply a western European endeavour, nor is it new to Ukraine. Discussions on European integration have taken place in Ukraine, with changing intensity, for approximately one decade.1 However, it has only been since the Orange Revolution that Ukrainian educators have become convinced of the real necessity of belonging to European integration structures. Despite recent changes, there remain significant obstacles to Ukraine’s adaptation to European approaches to education and educational reform as embodied in the Bologna Process. The formal acceptance of Ukraine into the Bologna Process in Bergen, Norway on 19–20 May 2005 generated debate among educators about improving the compatibility of Ukraine’s system of higher education with European approaches.2 This led Ukrainian experts to study their system’s adequacy vis-à-vis the Bologna objectives, the result of which has been increased levels of institutional autonomy characterized both by moderate successes and disappointments.3 Adaptation problems are connected with economic challenges and rigid control from the Ministry of Education and Science, but they also stem from the fear of losing a distinct national identity by substituting Moscow’s control with control from Brussels. This chapter discusses the creation of a European dimension in Ukrainian teacher education as promoted by the Bologna Process. Grounded in qualitative research conducted at one of the major Ukrainian teacher education universities (Ivan Franko National University of L’viv), the 165

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study reveals both challenges and successes in changing mentalities of Ukrainian educators and concludes that the Bologna Process is an effective political and economic mechanism supported by the European Union (EU) for European integration in the educational sphere. The applicability of the study’s results relate not only to the Ukrainian case, but also to other post-socialist nations engaged in European integration through developing common standards of higher education consistent with the Bologna reforms.

Background to the Bologna Process European enlargement is promoted by the Bologna Process, a mechanism conducted outside the formal decision-making framework of the EU, though ‘close in its make up and inspiration ... and both build[ing] on and contribut[ing] to EU policy objectives’.4 As the most significant and wideranging reform of higher education in Europe, this Process was launched officially in 1999 when Ministers from 29 European countries met in Bologna and signed a Declaration on Higher Education. This Declaration was aimed at the formation of the European Higher Education Area (EHEA) by 2010, with a view to improving the attractiveness and competitiveness of European higher education in relation to that found in the United States. To do so, European universities are expected to introduce more market-driven strategies, putting student demand at the centre in order to compete more effectively for global consumers. Informally, the Process had started in 1988 when the Magna Charta Universitatum, a ‘text of high moral value but no legal force’,5 was issued at a meeting of university rectors celebrating the 900th anniversary of the University of Bologna. The document addressed European cultural values and the notion of institutional autonomy, freedom of intellectual inquiry, and the moral and intellectual independence of research as cornerstones of higher education.6 These fundamental principles gained legal status some ten years later when they were laid down in the Bologna Declaration.7 Since 1999, Ministers have met three times to assess progress toward the creation of the EHEA: in Prague (2001), in Berlin (2003) and in Bergen (2005). Forty-five countries are now signatories to the Bologna Declaration.8 To establish the EHEA, the Bologna Process gave its support to the idea that higher education should serve as an effective means for promoting major top-down social reforms for global educational values and to the standardization of European university programmes. Both of these steps are necessary for effective competition with the universities of the United

The Bologna Process in Ukraine

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States. In addition to these steps, the Bologna Process identifies six objectives: the adoption of a system of easily readable and comparable degrees; the adoption of the university structure based on two cycles – undergraduate and graduate; the establishment of a system of credits (European Credit Transfer System – ECTS) as a means of ensuring student mobility; the promotion of cross-border mobility by overcoming obstacles, with particular attention to students, teachers and researchers; the promotion of European cooperation in quality assurance; and the promotion of a European dimension in higher education.9 The Ministers also affirmed the importance of the social dimension, recognizing higher education as a public good and responsibility. However, the question remains open as to how well higher education can serve as a public good amid the economic challenges experienced by participating countries facing declining public subsidies and increased globalization of higher education as a market product.10 This was a particularly hot topic in the follow-up meetings conducted in 2001–05, which gave a new impetus to the Process by addressing the areas of lifelong learning, quality assurance, recognition of degrees and periods of studies. Those meetings also resulted in an important step forward in further interpretations of the social dimension; students were recognized as active partners, and special attention was given to the importance of higher education for democratic values and cultural diversity in Prague (2001), Berlin (2003), and Bergen (2005). The idea of lifelong learning received attention at the 5th Ministerial Conference held in London on 17–18, May 2007 as well. An analysis of the interpretation of scores given by the Secretariat of the Bologna Process to each of the participating countries on the basis of their reports shows that there has been significant progress by participants in their efforts to establish the EHEA. According to this report, by 2005, ‘more than half of the participating countries had quality assurance structures in place; and international participation and networking feature in many of the systems’.11 To achieve more tangible results in quality assurance, the European Commission called for ‘a more systemic approach to education reform in Europe’12 and stressed that ‘Bologna cannot be implemented à la carte, it has to be done across the board and wholeheartedly. If not, the process will leave European higher education even less strong and united than before’.13 This naturally caused a certain degree of resistance on the part of the academic community, especially in eastern Europe.14 The idea of developing the global innovation knowledge societies as launched by the Bologna Process has triggered on-going debate in Europe and beyond, sometimes producing mixed messages in

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education circles. On one hand, these ideas are supported internationally by educational communities. Recent eastern European examples of this include the Moscow Declaration15 and the G8 Summit Declaration,16 in which Bologna ideas found further interpretation and support among the participants. These innovative ideas are positively changing the national educational discourses in the post-Soviet space; the conferences between 2003 and 2006 in Poland, Russia, Ukraine, Georgia and Latvia in one way or another dealt with the Bologna reforms.17 On the other hand, especially in eastern Europe, the Bologna Process has elicited much criticism. Many of the fundamental ideas underlying the process pose challenging tasks for east European university faculty, who are completely unprepared to grasp these concepts easily or change themselves quickly to match the new expectations.18 Such ideas include market-driven strategies that put student demand at the centre of education, viewing students as educational consumers, and seeing one’s teaching as an educational product. However, the greatest source of frustration is connected with cultural pan-Europeanism, or fostering a common European cultural identity, and the consequent fear of losing educational distinctiveness and uniqueness in favour of universal European ‘extraordinary cultural and scientific traditions’.19 For this reason, influential universities in Russia, such as St. Petersburg University or Moscow State University, prefer not to speak much about the ‘Bologna’ reforms, which ‘are aimed at solving problems of European education, but not the Russian one’.20 These universities even display disappointment with educational uniformization, viewing it ‘as a danger for the elite institutions’ status’,21 while others choose to focus on progress toward European integration rather than on the positive achievements in Bolognization.22 The situation in Ukraine looks somewhat contentious. Although Ukraine has ‘chosen Europe’, movement toward the Bologna goals so far has been largely superficial. According to V. Zhuravsky, Ukraine cannot avoid educational transformation on the principles of the Bologna Process, despite controversial debates on the danger of losing educational distinctness: ‘If we don’t conduct this reform, or ignore it, our country will only strengthen the phenomenon of isolation both from the side of Europe and Russia, and further promote socio-economic crisis’.23 V. Tomusk provides a different perspective, calling the cultural policy underlying the Bologna Process ‘intellectually naïve and socially irresponsible’. Tomusk sees the unification of national institutions as a form of ‘cognitive fascism’, with its homogenization around a singular European educational system. He believes that the Bologna Process is


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‘abused by governments that perceive it either as another “membership” to be collected to pave the way to full EU membership ... or as a step to be taken to secure legitimacy for a particular political regime’.24 Similar ideas often emerge in educational discussions in post-Soviet countries such as Russia, Moldova, Georgia or Kazakhstan.25 Challenges are often rooted in varying interpretations of the Bologna basics (qualification levels, academic credits, degrees) in different east European nations. According to G. Cogliandro, the ‘Bologna Process opens unexpected opportunities for the reinforcement of the European cooperation ... However, its concrete implementation logic ... still has some difficulties in being adopted and understood by the academic circles all over Europe’.26 Another package of challenges is related to a widespread authoritarian mentality among east European members of the Bologna Process, which is strengthened by political instability or disorder in these countries. Generally, the participating countries of eastern Europe, especially former Soviet states, face difficult decisions and have undertaken substantial reforms in changing national laws on higher education. Among these changes are the following: a reduction in the power of national ministries of education in order to meaningfully introduce university autonomy, the recognition of students as full members of the higher educational community, the rooting out of authoritarianism at all the levels of education and governance, and the introduction of independent national professional associations as quality assurance systems. If these reforms are realized, the Bologna Process could help accelerate economic transformation for European integration. Despite all of the challenges, the Bologna Process manages to survive in the post-Soviet world, serving as a source of dialogue between professionals from different countries and in turn as ‘an inspiration and recipe for educational reforms’.27 One of the bigger achievements of this process in eastern Europe has been the promotion of democracies in post-conflict societies.28 More and more intellectuals believe that the internationalization of education and the standardization initiatives supported by the Bologna Process have the positive potential to act as a proactive trans-national tool for preparing a mental and social base for potential EU member states.

The pedagogical legacy of Ukrainian higher education Higher education in Ukraine is a complex phenomenon, full of contrasts to and commonalities with other European educational systems.


As is common in Europe, Ukrainian pedagogical culture is built on traditions from Ancient Greece and Rome and is associated with the names of outstanding European educators such as Czech educator John Amos Comenius (1592–1670), English philosopher John Locke (1632– 1704), Swiss educators Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–78) and Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi (1746–1827), German educators Johann Friedrich Herbart (1776–1841) and Adolf Disterweg (1790–1866), and others whose educational heritage is thoroughly studied in every teacher education programme in Ukraine. Typical of eastern European nations, Ukraine’s history was marked by a high degree of discontinuity in terms of how the system dealt with concerns of national identity. In the Middle Ages, the Mongols dealt Kyivan Rus’ a crippling blow. Its territories, especially in the West, were subsequently absorbed by Lithuania and annexed by Poland for about six centuries, followed by three centuries of Austro-Hungarian rule. In the middle of the seventeenth century, Ukraine rose against Polish domination and the Cossack State came into existence, the autonomy of which was destroyed by the Russian Empire by the second half of the eighteenth century. Despite several years of independence for its western territories in the early 1920s, Ukraine did not possess territorial unity until 1991. Under each of the two great empires, Russia and Austria-Hungary, Ukrainian educators developed pedagogies that were consistent with global educational trends,29 but with a special emphasis on patriotic movements for national independence. Throughout history, no issue facing Ukrainian educators was more ominous than the dilemma of choosing between assimilation into other nations or assertion of a separate national identity. This has significantly impacted contemporary visions of humanism and democracy in the teaching of humanitarian sciences and continues to influence the minds of contemporary educators and their students as they discuss the issue of European integration promoted by the Bologna Process. Typically, contemporary Ukrainian educators interpret modern Bologna concepts by searching the past, looking for old securities in the face of an uncertain future in a common Europe. One such old security is the Cossack Pedagogy, which educators believe promotes a Ukrainian identity based on spiritual values, previous experiences in education, and the importance of parental guardianship from early childhood through to adulthood.30 Grounded in Christian ethics and the unwritten laws of the so-called ‘Code of Knight’s Honour’, the Cossack Pedagogy advocated a love for one’s parents and mother tongue, loyalty in love and friendship, a willingness to defend the weak (children, orphans), a


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noble attitude toward women of all ages, and unswerving devotion to the ideas of justice, modesty and industriousness.31 In addition to the desire to preserve a Ukrainian identity based on old securities such as the Cossack Pedagogy amid present educational reforms,32 researchers also define the following ideas from the history of pedagogical humanism: first, the idea of free development of a personality (the Renaissance, the ‘Prosvitnytztvo’, social utopianism); second, Kant’s idea of categorical moral imperativism, which determines the essence of humanism in an educational process (a person is not a means, but rather the goal of education); third, the adjustment of the system of education to the person, not the other way around (Rousseau, L. Tolstoy); fourth, the idea of the ‘philosophy of heart’, i.e., developing a person’s positive dispositions toward other people and the world according to the biblical ‘Golden Rule’ (G. Skovoroda, P. Yurkevych, N. Gogol). These ideas, so typical of traditional European culture, were on the agenda of the first National Programme for Education, ‘Ukraine of the 21st Century’, adopted immediately after Ukrainian independence in 1991. Based predominantly on a traditional model, contemporary Ukrainian higher education provides knowledge of a variety of subjects in the broadest sense, with special attention to theory and history. Even when introducing new qualification levels consistent with the Bologna standards, Ukrainian educators ground their judgments in this paradigm. The view that teaching good theory is important even during the early stages of an undergraduate degree is acknowledged as the main cultural value of education and is held widely among Ukrainian educators. European Orthodoxy and Catholicism, which are mainly associated with the development of spirituality (or religion), also have had a strong impact on Ukrainian educational culture. In Ukrainian spirituality, there is an unquestioned pre-eminence of an ideal and abstract moral tendency over all that is everyday, practical and earthly. The development of students’ spirituality, along with morality and profound knowledge, has always been a goal of Ukrainian education;33 whenever this emphasis was in decline, educational critiques considered the situation an educational crisis.34 In higher education, the development of professional habits and skills by means of teaching different subject areas seems to be subservient to teaching general principles, moral truths and ideas. That is why the Ukrainian higher educational culture could be called a culture of thinking and contemplation. This educational culture differs substantially from that of the Bologna Process, which has its foundation in the Protestant ethic and in the notion of global competition with American universities.

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The uniqueness of Ukrainian educational culture also has roots in the historical absence of market pressures in Ukraine; Ukrainian educational culture has been exposed to neither the atmosphere of market relationships nor the concept of marketable products. Historically, a lack of emphasis on practicality resulted in an underestimation of vocational knowledge. This has had a profound impact on the teaching of the humanities in Ukrainian universities. The traditional appreciation for learning for its own sake has been one of the most important factors for Ukrainian educational survival during the uncertainties of social transformation since 1991. Since then, however, pioneers of contemporary Ukrainian school reform have been asking basic questions about the goals of education in the new millennium and about the prospect of coming back to the European community.35 In formulating answers to these questions, they have drawn on a humanistic stream in Ukrainian pedagogy, preserved and developed in the works of Anton Makarenko (1888–1939), Vasyl Sukhomlyns’ky (1918–1970) and Vladimir Bibler (1918–2000), whose classical pedagogical concepts represent a notable Ukrainian contribution to the legacy of European educational thought.

Dilemmas of educational reform After achieving independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, Ukraine required profound educational reforms, including the structural reorganization of secondary schools, universities, curricula, and teacher and educational administrator training programmes at all levels. Educational reforms followed economic, political and cultural transformations. The first State Programme of Reforming Education (1993) aimed, on the one hand, at perpetuating Ukrainian ethnic values and traditions in education to all the Ukrainian citizens, and, on the other hand, at adopting international educational experience congruent with the needs of civil, democratic society. The 1990s was a time of on-going educational debate, rapid change and a passionate struggle to decide the shape of the new Ukraine. Since Ukrainian self-determination required a new national identity, the major issue surrounding educational reforms in the 1990s was radical changes in language policy. A second major issue concerned structural changes in education. Between 1996 and 2006, educational reformers in Ukraine argued for the humanization and democratization of teaching, curriculum diversification and the development of students’ critical thinking abilities consistent with global educational trends. Unfortunately, the innovative educational reforms were never pursued


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deeply enough to transform Ukrainian education profoundly; thus, educational reforms are only starting today, promoted by top-down ministerial reforms in the context of the Bologna Process. Despite structural changes, the Ukrainian educational system faces many unsolved dilemmas and constraints. First, market pressures accelerated by Bologna require the education of specialists who are capable of flexible, critical and creative thinking, who are self-sufficient and self-actualizing, and who will practice life-long learning. Second, the democratic society emerging in Ukraine needs responsible, active, selfaware and confident individuals who respect human rights and people’s dignity, who trust people and who are tolerant of diverse human identities and cultures. Despite all attempts by educational reformers to humanize teaching and to increase educational equality and equity in Ukraine36 the current educational system is not designed to prepare the types of specialists needed for the country’s democratic future in Europe. Educational reforms in Ukraine have resulted only in external transformations of teacher education curricula and the introduction of some innovative methods courses consistent with the Bologna expectations. Though instructors have accepted the philosophy of Bologna standards verbally, their values and beliefs remain autocratic, grounded in behavioural pedagogies.

Method and findings A study of attitudes among educators who are trying to operate according to Bologna standards was undertaken in June 2005 with the goal of analyzing educators’ visions for teaching about civil society and European integration.37 The analysis involved interviews with ten faculty of a Ukrainian national university, a review of documents and participant observations. The responses of seven instructors were similar and posed a considerable challenge to innovative approaches to European education such as the realization of a student-centred curriculum, cooperative learning and the creation of learning communities. The study shows that the majority of faculty is doubtful about the successful implementation of change. Another group of respondents approach innovations critically, fearing that the introduction of European approaches will invite chaos into the classroom and instructional process.38 Some teachers are reluctant to endorse any of the Bologna changes and consider the traditional system more suitable, as it protects them from being dependent on the students’ needs and interests and from the pressure of having to make continuous choices and decisions while teaching.

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Teachers’ reactions to educational reforms in Ukraine are shaped by firm psychological dispositions or stereotypes.39 Instructors supporting Bologna education often lack a profound understanding of the basic philosophy of democracy (social-constructivist, post-modern, multicultural approaches) and lack the skills needed to make student learning more effective by applying innovative techniques and by being flexible and creative when making decisions in non-standard situations. So, not seeing positive changes in student learning, motivation and achievement, these teachers do not attempt to find alternative explanations to replace the stereotypes they have come to rely on. The results of our study reveal three common stereotypes governing the attitudes of educators: Stereotype I: Knowledge of pedagogical theory and practices is not necessary for teaching the natural sciences and mathematics. One interviewee expressed it this way: To make mathematical concepts clear, the instructor should explain the logics of the science. Here a student should observe and model his instructor’s actions. The level of an educator’s mastery of pedagogical theory and the peculiarities of his/her influence on students (prospective teachers of mathematics) are not really significant. Besides, I do not see any connections between teaching mathematics and democracy, or European integration. Stereotype I provides evidence of authoritarian thinking and reduces learning to a student’s reproduction of the teacher’s basic knowledge and skills. This belief is especially strong among Ukrainian math and science instructors: for them, truthful knowledge can be clearly defined. This is unlike the situation in social studies and humanities, where understandings of truth may depend on one’s personal perception of reality. Apart from this, the interviewee’s use of a singular instruction mode for teaching mathematics contradicts global trends of teaching mathematics for understanding, which draws on multiple pedagogical strategies and aims to foster a love for life-long learning among students.40 Stereotype II: Ukrainian patriotism is an appropriate starting point for building civil society and European integration. One interviewee put it this way: Civil society in Ukraine should start with its citizens, who must be Ukrainian-speaking patriots. We have to develop the Ukrainian nationalistic consciousness in every teacher candidate, who will do the same


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with his own students. Our students should study Ukrainian ethnic traditions and be proud that they belong to the Ukrainian ethnos. Stereotype II reflects common misconceptions Ukrainian educators hold about democracy and citizenship education in teacher preparation. The interviewee reduces the roles teachers can play in civic education to those of being a patriot and of lecturing about ‘Ukrainian humanism and democratic ideas’ as well as other nations and democratic society. Stereotype III: Soviet education was authoritarian, and the Soviet heritage should be rejected wholesale. One interviewee captures the idea in this way: They were ideologically grounded. We have enough humanistic, really patriotic ideas in our history, which were ignored in the Soviet era ... . Times have changed. We have new ideas, and we will build our new independent Ukraine without the Soviet legacy. We do not need anything from the totalitarian past; we will build everything by ourselves. In minimizing the significance of the educational ideas that were popular in Soviet society, many interesting educational innovations have been removed from the history of pedagogy, excised from all modern textbooks for prospective teachers and substituted by unknown names from the history of Ukrainian education, who are often of minor and local importance. This stereotype ignores ideas of educational thinkers such as of L. Vygotsky, A. Leontiev, A. Makarenko, M. Bakhtin and V. Bibler, who introduced concepts such as activity theory, learning environments, education for promoting friendly relations in the classroom, community development, peace education, academic service learning and participatory learning, which may be worth attention today in the context of the Bologna reforms.

The Bologna Process: A case study for democracy in Ukraine? The ideas of democracy, entrance to the family of European countries and the adoption of global educational experiences congruent to the needs of civil, democratic society have been on the agenda of Ukrainian educational reformers for more than a decade. At the beginning of the 1990s, Ukraine’s introduction to democracy and a pre-market economy took the form of a radical westernization at all levels of social life. In education, the focus

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was more on democratizing the educational process than on democratizing governance. Many educators believed that the main difficulty lay in the authoritarian style of teachers’ relationships with students and suggested new ‘democratizing’ and ‘humanizing’ strategies for teacher training.41 However, as I. Froumin42 concluded from his experience in retraining Russian teachers, ‘more than half of the teachers who have undergone democratizing and humanizing revert to their former methods and instructional styles even as they continue to speak the new jargon’.43 The research cited in this chapter confirms these findings, which can be explained by the dominance of authoritarian thinking among teacher educators and unchanged structures of school life. Though formally the socialist ideology has ceased to be dominant, it still prevails in the minds of educators in the social and political systems. Moreover, the contemporary Ukrainian understanding of democracy still includes old socialist ideological orientations, aspects of the Soviet mentality, or, in the best case, is built on interpretations of democracy taken from the history of education discussed earlier. Doctoral dissertations defended in Ukraine during the 1990s reveal this trend, as 90 per cent of them were devoted to the history of Ukrainian education, especially the lives of its personalities. Despite these challenges, educational globalization represented by the Bologna Process has reached Ukraine and occurs against the background of complex phenomena and challenges to social transformation. Though the Bologna Declaration was signed in 1999, the first articles about it in Ukrainian educational journals appeared three years later.44 These publications enthusiastically describe the advantages of the Bologna Process, such as the creation of favourable conditions for student and faculty exchanges. The first successes were achieved in 2003–04: the two-level qualification system (Bachelor and Master degrees) was introduced in the majority of higher educational institutions; the Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine began elaborating new standards for higher education; educational researchers and officials began to improve the list of specialties compatible with the Bologna Process; universities were instructed to improve student assessment on the basis of ECTS; and universities started to improve the quality of educational services. In Ukraine, interest in the Bologna Process has grown dramatically, especially since the Orange Revolution in December 2004. Educators emphasize the ‘historical significance’ of this process and describe it as the ‘highest European educational priority’45 for European integration. Currently, the Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine, in cooperation with the Academy of Pedagogical Sciences in Ukraine, is introducing


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ideas from the Bologna Process in special publications, thematic conferences, formal regulations and presentations in mass media.46 Educators actively discuss the new terms, history and ideas of the Bologna Process,47 view Ukrainian education within European traditions, describe dispositions and traits needed for becoming a ‘global citizen’,48 and compare global educational trends with the features of Ukrainian education.49 To integrate with Europe’s educational structures successfully, Ukraine must take three crucial steps: first, it must raise the budget and status of higher education; second, it must improve the quality of higher education, strengthen its practicality, introduce new teaching strategies and eliminate authoritarianism; and, third, it must change its system of assessment and accreditation. Some critics suggest that the system of higher education in Ukraine has remained nearly unchanged since the Stalinist times. They also suggest that the process of introducing innovations like the two-tier model of Bachelor and Master degrees involves little more than re-naming old institutional degrees rather than changing their content and process.50 Other educators do not hide their disappointment with the Bologna Process and European integration, feeling that these developments may undermine Ukrainian national identity. Such educators argue that the ‘common educational space’ initiated by the Bologna Declaration is not something that Ukrainians really need and that this process is reminiscent of Soviet top-down approaches. According to K. Kosak,51 the people most interested in disseminating the Bologna ideas are in the Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine, as well in university rectories. He argues that educational centralization plays an important role in popularizing this idea; in countries with the most rigid control, like Ukraine and Russia, the Bologna Process theme rings loudest. Despite resistance, the idea of belonging to a common Europe is starting to change people’s mentalities. Though many educators in western Ukraine continue to defend Ukraine’s threatened distinctiveness and national identity, some of them do recognize the necessity of reforming traditional education in the direction of openness and democratic citizenship values.52 Since the Orange Revolution, the Bologna Process has contributed to identity transformation and generated a new social direction founded on the principles of democracy, tolerance, inclusion, human and minority rights, and the rule of law. The Bologna Process provides a basis for conceptualizing Ukrainian national identity based on a European model. Though support for national distinctiveness is still strong in Ukraine, the pro-European orientation of Ukrainian teacher education is already changing the themes of doctoral dissertations defended in


2004–05, which show increased attention to topics relating to the importance of tolerance, inclusion and civic education in teacher preparation.

Conclusion Integrative processes characterizing European education in the twentyfirst century are influenced by the Bologna Process, which is rapidly leading to deep changes in the essence of higher education in eastern Europe. Reforms can be effective, provided that society clearly envisions their goals. In Ukraine’s case, the process of moving toward democracy is extremely difficult and controversial, but noticeably effective. Despite resistance from faculty, top-down Bologna reforms supported by the Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine are changing not only educational policies and standards, but also the identity and mentality of students and teachers. The main contradiction in the development of higher education in Ukraine lies in the inadequate reflection of European educational values in professional training. Another contradiction concerns the influence of the authoritarian educational paradigm, echoed in the three stereotypes discussed in this chapter. This study shows that negative stereotypes of authoritarian education inherited from the Soviet period are deeply ingrained in the minds of Ukrainian teacher educators at the level of philosophy, theoretical assumptions, teaching methods and strategies. A further obstacle to educational reforms is an insufficient understanding of democracy. In the face of European integration, the complex issues of equality, human rights and justice are acquiring a new dimension and constitute challenging goals for educators.53 The difficult tasks teachers now confront are how best to help young people participate in an increasingly pluralistic world and how to instil the tolerance and empathy necessary for them to deal with ethnic, racial and class differences. The mission needs to be extended to include the teaching of independent, critical thinking so that young people can compete in the market economy effectively and contribute to the common good within a united Europe, a concept promoted by the Bologna Process.

Notes 1. L. Pukhovs’ka, Професійна підготовка вчителів у Західній Європі [Professional Preparation of Teachers in Western Europe: Commonalities and Divergence] (Kyiv: Вища школа [Higher School], 1997).


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2. A. Artyomenko, ‘Live and Learn: Or about Terms and Essence’, Zerkalo Nedeli, 24:552 (25 June – 1 July 2005), http://www.zerkalo-nedeli.com/nn/ show/552/50405 (Accessed 1 December 2005). 3. K. Kosak, ‘Myths about the Bologna Process’, Zerkalo Nedeli, 39:567 (8–14 October 2005), http://www.zerkalo-nedeli.com/nn/show/567/51424 (Accessed 25 November 2005). 4. V. Reding, ‘We Need to Implement Wholeheartedly the Bologna Process’, Conference on Higher Education, Berlin (18 September 2003), http://www. uc3m.es/uc3m/gral/IG/NOR/UNIV/comiss.pdf#search=%22Reding%2C% 20Viviane%20(2003)%22 (Accessed 18 August 2006). 5. P. Nyborg, ‘Institutional Autonomy and Higher Education Governance: Implication of the Bologna Process in South East Europe’, Council of Europe Conference, Strasbourg (2–3 December 2003), http://www.bologna-bergen 2005.no/Docs/ (Accessed 20 August 2006). 6. Association of European Universities (CRE), Magna Charta of European Universitatum (18 August 1988), http://www.bologna-bergen2005.no/ Docs/00-Main_doc/880918_Magna_Charta_Universitatum.pdf (Accessed 12 August 2006). 7. The Bologna Declaration of 19 June 1999 (Joint Declaration of the European Ministers of Education), www.bologna-berlin2003.de/pdf/bologna_declaration. pdf (Accessed 29 July 2006). 8. P. Nyborg, The Bologna Process from Berlin to Bergen (Coibra Group, EPET Task Force) (1 June 2005), http://www.bologna-bergen2005.no/ (Accessed 29 July 2006). 9. The Bologna Declaration. 10. Nyborg, The Bologna Process. 11. Ibid., p. 4. 12. Reding, ‘We Need to Implement’. 13. Ibid., p. 2. 14. S. Mitrofanov ‘Plusses and Minuses of the Bologna Process’, Russian Journal (July 2003), www.russ.ru/ist_sovr/sumerki/30030497_mitr.html (Accessed 17 June 2006). 15. G8 Ministerial Meeting on Education, Moscow Declaration, 1–2 June 2006, http://www.dfes.gov.uk/bologna/index.cfm?fuseaction=news (Accessed 15 August 2006). 16. G8 Summit Declaration, Education for Innovative Societies in the 21st Century (St. Petersburg), 16 July 2006, http://www.dfes.gov.uk/bologna (Accessed 15 August 2006). 17. T. Koshmanova, ‘Transformation of the Ukrainian Education in the Context of the Bologna process’, in N. Lobanov and V. Skvortsov, eds, Lifelong Education for Sustainable Development (St. Petersburg: UNESCO, InterParliament Assembly of Eurasian Economic Community, Russian Academy of Education, Leningrad University n.a. A. S. Pushkin, 2006), pp. 99–106. 18. T. Koshmanova, ‘Neo-pragmatism as a Contemporary Philosophy of American Education’, in V. Hromoviy, O. Demianchuk, S. Klepko and T. Koshmanova, eds, American Philosophy of Education from the Ukrainian Researchers Point of View (Poltava: Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine, 2005), pp. 80–98. 19. The Bologna Declaration, pp. 2–3. 20. N. Lobanov, personal communication with author (2 June 2006).

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21. O. Bichenkova, ‘Болонский процесс, или Дорога с односторонним движением (Беседа с доктором философских наук, профессором, деканом философского факультета НГУ Владимиром Диевым)’ [Bologna Process, or One-Way Road (Conversation with the Dean and Professor Vladimir Diev)], Университетский Проспект: Независимая студенческая газета, 58:15 (15 April 2004). 22. G. I . Gladkov, ‘Об актуальных проблемах включения российских вузов в Болонский процесс’, [About Significant Problems of Including Russian Higher Educational Institutions in the Bologna Process], http://www.bologna.mgimo. ru/mgimo.php?doc_id=45 (Accessed 25 November 2006). 23. V. Zhuravsky, ‘Global Problems of Educational Development and Their Specificity in Ukraine’ [Глобальні проблеми розвитку освіти та особливості їх прояву в Україні], in I. Timoshenko, ed., The Problems of Modernization of Ukrainian Education in the Context of the Bologna Process (Kyiv: European University, 2004), p. 8. 24. V. Tomusk, ‘Three Bolognas and a Pizza Pie: Notes on Institutionalization of the European Higher Education System’, International Studies in Sociology of Education, 14:1 (2004) pp. 75–95. 25. A. Stefarta, ‘The Assessment of Student Knowledge’, paper presented at the Third Vittachi International Conference on Education Rethinking Educational Change 1–5 July 2006 (Ifrane, Morocco: Al Akhawayn University, 2006); S. Mitrofanov ‘Plusses and Minuses of the Bologna Process’. 26. G. Cogliandro, ‘Sharing Experiences in Cultural Education, Realizing the Bologna Process’ (SECEB: Socrates Projects -1), http://www.dfes.gov.uk/bologna/ (Accessed 27 August 2006). 27. Nyborg, The Bologna Process. 28. T. Koshmanova, ed., Pedagogy for Democratic Citizenship (Contributing authors: T. Koshmanova, L. Brice, G. Holm, L. Nations Johnson, T. Ravchyna and S. Rao) (L’viv: Ivan Franko National University, 2005). 29. T. Koshmanova, ‘The Impact of the World’s Pedagogical Tendencies on the Education of Western Galicia at the End of the 19th – Beginning of the 20th century’, in C. Majorek and A. Meissner, eds, Educational Thought in Galicia: 1772–1918, VIII (Rzeszów: Higher Pedagogical School, 1995), pp. 115–33. 30. I. Gutnyk. ‘Козацька педагогіка як складова системи національного виховання молоді’ [Cossack Pedagogy as a Component of Youth Education], Початкова школа, 10 (2003) pp. 47–9. 31. L. Petrovsky, ‘Козацька педагогіка: виховуємо нових українців’ [Cossack Pedagogy: Educate New Ukrainians], День, 93 (8 June 2006), http://www. day.kiev.ua/163563/ (Accessed 15 August, 2006). 32. I. Ziaziun, ‘Гуманістична парадигма в освіті: Реаліїї, тенденції, перспективирозвитку’ [Humanistic Paradigm in Education: Realities, Trends and Perspectives], in I. Ziaziun, ed., Вища освіта в Україні: Реалії, тенденції, перспективи розвитку, I [Higher Education in Ukraine: Realities, Trends and Perspectives] (Kyiv: Ukrainian Ministry of Education, 1996), pp. 8–12; I. Pidlasyi, ‘Ідеали українського виховання’ [The Ideals of Ukrainian Upbringing], Рідна школа [Native School], 1 (2000) pp. 6–13. 33. H. Avdiyants, ‘Форування освітянської інтелигенціїї у духовному просторі України’ [‘Formation of Educational Intelligentsia in Spiritual Space of Ukraine’]. Рідна школа [Native School], 10 (2002) pp. 33–5.


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34. I. Pidlasyi, Педагогіка [Pedahohika] (L’viv, Ukraine: Svit, 2002). 35. I. Ziaziun, ‘Гуманістична парадигма в освіті’. 36. ‘Ukrainian Law on Higher Education’, Osvita Ukrayiny, 17 (26 February 2002) pp. 2–7. 37. Koshmanova, Pedagogy for Democratic Citizenship. 38. Y. Syavavko, Українська етнопедагогіка [Ukrainian Ethnopedagogy] (L’viv: University of L’viv Publishers, 2002). 39. W. Lippmann, Public Opinion. (New York: Macmillan, 1922). 40. M. Kennedy, Inexact Sciences: Professional Education and the Development of Expertise (East Lansing: National Center for Research on Teacher Learning, 1991). 41. I. Ziaziun, ‘Гуманістична парадигма в освіті’. 42. I. Froumin, I. ‘Democratizing the Educational Process: Achievements and Setbacks’, in B. Eklof, L. E. Holmes and V. Kaplan, eds, Educational Reform In Post-Soviet Russia (Tel Aviv: The Cummings Center Series, 2005), pp. 129–52. 43. Ibid., p. 137. 44. K. Kosak, ‘Myths about the Bologna Process’. 45. L. Surzhyk, ‘The Bologna Process Has Started’, Zerkalo Nedel (28 May 2005), http://www.zerkalo-nedeli.com/nn/show/548/50132 (17 (Accessed 15 October 2005). 46. Olha Sukhomlyns’ka, personal communication (22 October, 2005). 47. V. Buryak, ‘Розвиток Болонського процесу в європейських країнах’ [The Development of the Bologna Process in European Countries], Рідна школа [Native School], 8 (2005) pp. 6–8. 48. V. Hromovyi, ‘Україна–США: Тенденції розвитку освіти’ [Ukraine–U.S.: Educational trends], Завуч [Associate Principle], 25:247 (2004) pp. 4–10. 49. O. Lyubar, M. Stelmakhovych, D. Fedorenko, Історія української педагогіки [History of the Ukrainian Pedagogy] (Kyiv: Higher School, 1999), p. 77. 50. A. Artyomenko, ‘Live and Learn: Or About Terms and Essence’, Zerkalo Nedeli, 24:552 (25 June 2005), http://www.zerkalo-nedeli.com/nn/show/552/50405 (Accessed 1 December 2005). 51. K. Kosak, ‘Myths about the Bologna Process’. 52. T. Ravchyna, ‘Democratic Learning Environment’, in Koshmanova, Pedagogy for Democratic Citizenship (L’viv: Publishing House of Ivan Franko National University of L’viv, Ukraine, 2005), pp. 124–47. 53. Koshmanova, Pedagogy for Democratic Citizenship.

10 Whither Moldova: East or West? Robert Weiner1

Introduction Recently, there have been some dramatic shifts in the political and geopolitical situation in the Black Sea region. Initially, these shifts appeared to weaken the efforts by Russia to maintain influence and control as the major regional hegemony in the area. In sort of an Orange Revolution in reverse, the victory of the Party of Communists of the Republic of Moldova in the parliamentary elections of 6 March 2005 and the re-election of Vladimir Voronin as president on 4 April seemingly added yet another anti-Russian regime to the new political forces brought to power in Ukraine and Georgia by the Orange and Rose revolutions respectively.2 What were the factors that brought about this rather surprising turn of events in Moldova, which was considered to be a pro-Russian regime in 2001 and which now has engaged in a significant reorientation of its foreign policy toward Europe?

Moldova and the European Union Moldova assumes even more importance in the grand strategy of the West as the European Union (EU) and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) press further eastward. The EU has included Moldova within its European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) initiated in 2003, opened an office in Chisinau, and, on 23 March 2005, appointed a special representative, Adriaan Jacobovits de Szeged, to Moldova to focus on the resolution of the crisis in Transnistria.3 The European Commission also opened up a new office in Moldova on 6 October 2005, headed by Cesare De Montis.4 The major strategic priority of Moldova, according to Chisinau, is now membership in the European 182

Whither Moldova: East or West? 183

institutions.5 Moldova does not want to be relegated to the periphery of Europe, among the EU’s ‘ring of friends’ included in the framework of Brussels’ ENP. But, as of 2007, the EU prefers that Moldova concentrate on implementing the EU–Moldova Action Plan signed on 22 February 2005, still within the framework of the ENP. President Voronin has argued that Moldova’s European orientation dates to November 2002, when it created a National Commission for European Integration by presidential decree to prepare for EU membership.6 Following that step, in October 2003 Moldova drew up a concept of European integration, which focused on the harmonization of its laws with the EU’s acquis communautaire. Before this, Moldova had concluded a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) with the EU in 1994, which became operational in 1998.7 Moldova’s avowed European orientation gives the European institutions some leverage as external actors to try to steer the process of democratization there, such as it is, in the direction of the benchmark of ‘European standards’. The ENP also provides Moldova with increased financial aid to engage in a complex series of internal measures that hopefully will measure up to the European benchmarks.8 The implementation of the EU–Moldovan Action Plan signed by the EU and Moldova on 22 February 2005 and approved by the Moldovan parliament on April 2005 is to last for three years, and the Moldovan regime cites it as proof of its new western ‘reorientation’. It is now seen as unfolding within the context of the EU’s ENP, which, from Brussels’ perspective, aims to stabilize the new eastern frontiers of the EU, with particular attention to the Transnistrian segment of the Moldovan– Ukrainian border.9 This fits in with the EU’s security policy, which was elaborated in 2003. The EU is especially interested in helping Moldova to solve the ‘frozen conflict’ in Transnistria, which separated from Moldova. This is because Brussels believes that democratic reform in Moldova is not possible without the peaceful resolution of the conflict, as the two issues (Transnistria and democratic reform) are interrelated. Moldova needs to democratize in order to make reintegration more attractive to the population of Transnistria. Additionally, under the new Neighbourhood Policy, the EU continues to provide aid to Moldova through the Technical Aid to the Commonwealth of Independent States (TACIS) programme (scheduled to have ended on 1 January 2007) to help Chisinau make the political and economic reforms necessary to implement the plan.10 Between 1991 and 2003 the European Commission provided Moldova with about € 238 million in aid.11 Some of the more important areas emphasized in TACIS include harmonizing Moldova’s

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laws with those of the EU (helped by the EU’s Technical Assistance and Information Exchange Office [TAIEX]), developing a rule of law state, rooting out corruption, strengthening control of its borders and privatization.12 About a year after the signing of the EU–Moldovan Action Plan, it was clear that Moldova needed further help in implementing it and in harmonizing its legislation with that of the EU. Despite criticism by the EU that it was moving too slowly on economic and political reform, Moldova (rather optimistically) hoped to be granted associate status by the EU in 2007.13 However, even associate membership in the EU for Moldova may be pushed further into the future (and full membership may not be a realistic option for another 20 years, if ever) given the current ‘enlargement fatigue’ in the EU. Moldova, of course, has also been affected by the relationship between Romania and the EU, with the signing of an accession treaty between Romania and the EU in 2005 bringing Moldova further into the orbit of the EU.

Moldovan political developments and foreign policy Coming to power in 2001 after the Moldovan population had grown weary of the inability of the post-communist democratic parties to resolve the country’s economic problems, the Party of Communists of the Republic of Moldova also seemed like a throwback to the Soviet era of politics. It stood out as an anomaly to the trend of ‘decommunization’ that had been underway in the former communist world since 1989. In his first year in office, Moldovan President Voronin met frequently with Russian President Vladimir Putin. After assuming office, Voronin said ‘Russia and Moldova synchronize their steps on major issues of foreign policy.’14 Voronin seemed to take a classic Marxist– Leninist view of Moldova’s position in the international hierarchy of power when he described Moldova as an east European version of Cuba and stressed his admiration for the political systems of Vietnam and China. He supported the idea of Moldova’s joining the Russia– Belarus union (subject to approval in a referendum which was never held). The Voronin administration also advocated the use of Russian as a second official state language. It focused on the development of the concept of ‘Moldoveness’ in an effort to delineate a Moldovan national identity, which was distinct from a Romanian national identity – a policy reminiscent of similar efforts during the darkest days of Stalinist totalitarianism.


European reorientation of Moldovan foreign policy The major turning point in the deterioration of relations between Moldova and Russia, and a more significant European reorientation in its foreign policy, stemmed from heavy-handed efforts by Moscow to impose by diktat a settlement of the Transnistrian issue. The Russian proposals were drawn up in November 2003 in a plan known as the Kozak memorandum. Voronin was ready to sign the Kozak memorandum, which ostensibly would have provided Russia with a military presence as a guarantor in Moldova for 20 years. The memorandum would also virtually have given the separatist region of Transnistria equal status with Moldova in a new federal arrangement, which fell short of the Moldovan model of an asymmetrical federation.15 But, at the last minute, Voronin refused to sign the plan, having been forced to back off by pressure from the streets, with demonstrations led by Iurie Rosca, the leader of a significant rightcentre opposition (the Christian Democratic Popular Party). There was also pressure from the United States (US) and European institutions such as the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) not to go along with the Russian plan for the federalization of Moldova (although both the OSCE and the US had supported previous versions of federalization). A major reason for Moldovan refusal to sign was that Voronin may also have feared that he would be ousted by a Georgianstyle Rose Revolution. Instead, he was shrewd enough to co-opt the antiRussian democratic opposition at the time and play the nationalist and pro-western card as a strategy for ensuring victory for the Party of Communists of the Republic of Moldova in the parliamentary elections in March, as well as his re-election as president in April 2005. The Moldovan elections Consequently, the Party of Communists of the Republic of Moldova was re-elected in 2005, winding up with 45.98 per cent of the vote and 56 of the 101 seats in the unicameral National Assembly.16 Despite the drop-off of support from the previous election, the victory of Voronin’s party could be partly attributable to the fact that he astutely focused on anti-Russian sentiment, thereby finessing the opposition forces.17 For example, in a surprise visit to Kyiv four days before Moldova’s parliamentary elections, Voronin said that ‘Russia needs to renounce its imperial ambitions and to treat these states [former Soviet republics] as independent states.’18 Voronin rather cleverly supported the Ukrainian opposition presidential candidate Viktor Yushchenko during the Orange Revolution and attended his inaugural ceremony. Voronin also met

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with Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili, who had been brought to power by the Rose Revolution which tumbled Gorbachev’s former Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze from power.19 Even though it is evident that Moldova faces a number of obstacles in extricating itself from the communist legacies of the past and in consolidating a truly democratic system, international observers from the West all concluded that although there were some problems such as access to a biased state controlled mass media by the opposition forces and government control of the Central Election Commission, the 2005 elections had met ‘European standards’.20 There had been a turnout of about 65 per cent of the eligible electorate, while a 50 per cent turnout was needed for the election to be considered valid.21 With 56 seats, the communists had sufficient control of the parliament because only 52 seats were needed to constitute a simple majority and form a government. The Moldovan Parliament elects the president. When the presidential elections took place on 4 April 2005, Voronin, after some prevaricating about whether he would run, easily won with 75 votes out of 101, as just 61 votes were required to win. Voronin was inaugurated as president on 7 April 2005. In his inaugural speech, he referred to the ‘inspiration and moral support which he derived from the Rose and Orange revolutions’. An illiberal democracy Moldova faces a number of problems in meeting the European standards associated with a liberal democracy. The Voronin administration is allegedly quite corrupt – hardly a model for meeting the criteria of a rule of law state necessary for associate status with the EU. For example, according to the Moldovan media, one of Voronin’s sons, Oleg Voronin, allegedly has extensive interests in the Moldovan economy in areas such as the timber and sugar industries, among other things.22 Furthermore, the Voronin administration has not shrunk from using its resources to control the state media, although there are a number of relatively independent newspapers in Moldova such as Jurnal de Chisinau and Timpul, which are critical of the regime. In 2005 the regime supposedly divested itself of control of Moldova Suverana and its Russian-language version, which had served as an instrument of the administration but, in reality, still seems to reflect official policy. Furthermore, it has been a struggle to reduce state efforts to control electronic media, such as TeleradioMoldova, and enact a law which would result in the creation of an Audiovisual Council not subject to the control and pressure of the administration.23 In early May 2006 a number of embassies posted to Chisinau, as well as representatives of the EU, the OSCE and the Council


of Europe, urged the Moldovan government ‘to make real progress in reforming the media’.24 The US, in the section of a recent annual human rights report dealing with Moldova, drew attention to the harassment of political opponents, media repression and the need to develop the rule of law.25 A statement by an EU spokesman indicated that Moldova, along with Ukraine, would not be ready for EU membership for a long time, perhaps even longer now that the movement for a European constitution has been stalled.26 The uppermost question was whether Voronin, after his re-election as president in 2005, would really proceed to further democratize the illiberal regime which has been functioning in Moldova since 2001.27 Leaders of the opposition parties that decided to support Voronin for the presidency because it was in the national interest to do so originally expressed their belief that reforms were being instituted in such areas as the justice system. But by 2006 Dumitru Diacov, the leader of the Democratic Party, and Oleg Serebrian, the leader of the Social Liberal party, expressed their dissatisfaction with the lack of progress in reform and felt that Voronin had not lived up to his end of the bargain. Serafim Urecheanu, leader of Our Moldova Alliance – a significant opposition party which had never supported Voronin – spoke of ‘pseudo-reforms’.28

The Transnistrian conundrum Moldova’s aspirations to join the EU also depend on a resolution of the Transnistrian conflict, and Moldova would not want to join the EU without Transnistria. Chisinau had proposed unsuccessfully in June 2004 that the major actors involved in the Transnistrian negotiations sign a Security and Stability Pact for Moldova (SSPM), which could be used as a basis for the settlement of the Transnistrian problem.29 There was little support for such a treaty in the West, Russia or Romania, but both the EU and the US were willing to support the issuance of a Declaration on Security and Stability, rather than adhere to a treaty.30 Part of Moldova’s problem in negotiating guarantees for its security stemmed from its dissatisfaction with the negotiating structure that had been devised to deal with Transnistria. The negotiations since 1992 had taken the shape of the so-called Pentagon, including Russia, Moldova, Ukraine, Transnistria and the OSCE. This arrangement had worked well to serve Russian interests. In the pentagonal format, the Russians to some extent could control the Kuchma regime in Ukraine, the regime in Transnistria and even the OSCE (given that all OSCE decisions are made by consensus, although Moscow is not happy with

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the role of the OSCE meddling in human rights problems in the former Soviet space, especially in connection with the ‘frozen conflicts’). But following the ‘coloured’ revolutions in Ukraine and Georgia and his re-election, Voronin wanted to further internationalize the negotiating process format by bringing in the EU and the US. After discussions on 14 July 2005, the new Ukrainian President Yushchenko and Transnistrian leader Igor Smirnov issued an invitation to the EU and the US to participate in the negotiations. An agreement was reached on 27 September 2005, whereby the EU and the US would participate as observers in the negotiations dealing with Transnistria in a format known as ‘5+2’. However, to date (2007) the expanded negotiations format has not resulted in a solution to the Transnistrian problem, and Moldova has subsequently proposed that the EU and the US be raised from the status of observers to full participants. The Ukrainian peace initiative Ukraine presented a plan for a settlement of the Transnistrian question at a summit meeting of the Organization for Democracy and Economic Development (GUUAM)31 in April 2005, in the form of ‘Seven Steps’.32 The plan was to be implemented over a period of 18 months, whereby the borders of a reintegrated Moldova would be those of the Moldavian Soviet Republic as of 1 January 1990. The original version of the Yushchenko plan was drafted without consultation with Romania. Furthermore, Romania was not included as one of the guarantors in the Yushchenko plan, while Ukraine and Russia were. This gave the Ukrainian plan a distinctly pro-Russian tenor, even though there are of course elements of competition between Russia and Ukraine in the Black Sea region as well. Therefore, it should also be pointed out that there was some Russian criticism of the plan.33 It appeared that proRussian elements in Ukraine, left over from the old Kuchma regime and led by President Yushchenko’s former national security advisor, Petro Poroshenko, played a major role in the drafting of the plan (Poroshenko allegedly has economic interests in Transnistria). Romania, also keenly interested in the negotiations, noted that the Ukrainian plan did not call for the withdrawal of Russian troops from Transnistria.34 Russian withdrawal is, of course, currently unacceptable not only to Moscow, but also to the leaders in Tiraspol. On 15 June 2005 a deputy spokesperson for the Russian Foreign Ministry stated rather ominously that Russia had maintained troops in Transnistria since 1791 and would keep a military force there as long as necessary to protect its interests.35 In a press conference on 20 March 2006 the Russian Ambassador to Moldova


reaffirmed the fact that ‘Russia has permanent interests in the area’.36 This resulted in Moldova recalling its ambassador, Vasili Sturza, from Moscow at the time. Russian spokespersons did not exclude the possibility of military options in the case of a threat to Russian ‘peacekeepers’ in the area.37 Critique of the Ukrainian peace plan Moldova and Romania were both critical of the fact that the Ukrainian plan initially called for holding elections for a new supreme soviet in Transnistria in the fall of 2005 according to Transnistrian, not Moldovan, laws and rules and under international electoral supervision. Moldova also objected to references in the plan to the idea of ‘self-determination’ of the Transnistrian people. The OSCE had originally volunteered to supervise parliamentary elections in Transnistria based on its experience in conducting elections in such tension-ridden areas as Kosovo.38 Tiraspol favoured this approach because it was based on the model of Kosovo, which is evolving in the direction of some form of sovereignty beyond the United Nations’ mandated status of substantial autonomy for the Serbian province. Tiraspol has been further encouraged by the example of the Montenegrin referendum of 21 May 2006, which led to its independence, as well as the Russian position that there is a universal principle of self-determination that ostensibly could be applied to such separatist entities as Transnistria, Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia. The regime of Transnistrian President Smirnov took the position that elections should be held under Transnistrian laws, but it had stated earlier that it was amenable to an arrangement to be worked out by the Council of Europe’s Venice Commission or the OSCE itself.39 The Venice Commission (The European Commission for Democracy through Law) has worked for years with Moldova on such questions as constitutional reform, electoral reform and the status of minorities.40 However, Moldova believed that the Ukrainian plan did not provide sufficient time to prepare for elections; furthermore, Moldova argued that a number of conditions had to be met before any elections in Transnistria were held, such as the release of political prisoners, the demilitarization of Transnistria, the dismantling of the secret police apparatus there, the creation of conditions in which free political parties and non-governmental organizations could function and the guarantee of a free press, among others.41 Tiraspol decided to go ahead and hold scheduled parliamentary elections itself anyway on 11 December 2005, despite Moldovan objections. The elections, in which over 50 per cent of the eligible electorate

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participated, were not recognized as legitimate by the international community.42 The Smirnov group apparently did not do well. A group of business executives and ‘liberal’ economic reformers belonging to the Renewal (Obnovlenye) Party reportedly tied to the Sheriff company, which wields vast interests in the Transnistrian economy but whose connection to the Smirnovs is still not entirely clear, won 23 out of the 43 seats in the single chamber Transnistrian Supreme Soviet.43 However, it should be pointed out that the ‘reformers’ are just as pro-Russian as Smirnov and the pro-government party. Smirnov’s Respublika Party finally wound up with 13 seats.44 The leader of the Renewal Party, Yevgeny Shevchuk, who had also been linked to the Sheriff company, was elected speaker of the Transnistrian parliament.45 The Smirnov administration would have the rest of the world believe that the results of the elections illustrate how democratic the system in Transnistria really is. Nonetheless, the OSCE, according to Chisinau, should come up with an arrangement to oversee the withdrawal of Russian troops from Transnistria.46 Moscow’s position is that it will not withdraw its troops until a political settlement is reached between Transnistria and Moldova. In June 2006 Belgian Foreign Minister Karel De Gucht, Chairman-inOffice of the OSCE, called for the deployment of an international force to replace the current peacekeeping arrangement in the security zone of Transnistria. After meeting with Smirnov, the OSCE official proposed that the organization would even be willing to finance the withdrawal of Russian military forces from the area.47 Moldova’s negotiating position is also influenced by the fact that the Moldovan parliament adopted a law delineating the special autonomous status of Transnistria on 22 July 2005 to further strengthen its negotiating position and provide the basis for a political settlement, from its perspective.48 Moreover, the Moldovan regime had indicated that it would be willing to concede to Tiraspol a ‘broader autonomy’ greater than what the autonomous Turkic region of Gagauzia in Moldova currently enjoys.49 Barring a negotiated solution, there is always the possibility that the regime in Tiraspol could declare its independence and be recognized as a sovereign state by Russia, although thus far Moscow has displayed a reluctance to do so. There is also some support in the Russian Duma for the Transnistrian entity to become a part of Russia. On the other hand, the West rather optimistically hopes that it is possible that the more ‘reformist’ elements in Transnistria mentioned earlier in connection with the December 2005 parliamentary elections could bring about a


regime change and engage in effective negotiations with Moldova.50 However, the Smirnov administration announced that it would hold a referendum dealing with the relationship between Transnistria and Russia and Moldova on 17 September 2006.51 On that date the Transnistrian population overwhelmingly voted in favour of independence and some form of association with Russia. Russia in the past has not officially endorsed such referendums in Transnistria, but recently the Russian position seemed to have shifted to a more favourable stance in support of the application of the ‘universal principles’ of selfdetermination to entities like Transnistria. However, in spite of some speculation to the contrary, the Russian government, in the person of Vladimir Putin, did not officially recognize the results of the referendum, apparently keeping a commitment made to Voronin to continue to recognize the territorial integrity of Moldova (although different elements of the Russian government, such as the Duma, may take different approaches to Transnistria, sometimes depending on the economic interests which are involved). Moldova did not recognize the results of the referendum, nor will it recognize the results of the Transnistrian presidential elections of 10 December 2006, which was won by incumbent President Smirnov. The EU, the US and the OSCE also did not recognize the referendum as legitimate.52 In 2006 Chisinau stated that it will not negotiate with the current leadership in Tiraspol, which it regards as rogues, but is willing to talk to other unspecified representatives of Transnistria, presumably such as ‘foreign minister’ Valery Litskai.53 As of the beginning of March 2007 Moldova was prepared to resume negotiations with Transnistria within the ‘5+2’ format.

Whither Moldova? The analysis that Moldova is irreversibly moving toward Europe in the aftermath of the ‘coloured’ revolutions and Voronin’s re-election may seem overly optimistic given the pressure that Russia can exert on Chisinau. Clearly, Moldova’s reorientation toward Europe since 2003 did intensify beyond expectations. However, the EU is now going through a period of soul-searching and taking stock in the aftermath of the failure to secure approval of the EU constitution. The EU may not want to jeopardize its relations with Russia by becoming too heavily involved in Transnistria, resulting in a confrontation with a newly assertive Moscow. In mid-June 2005 the special EU representative for Moldova stated that the EU did not have a plan for the settlement of Transnistria, but

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this was belied by increased EU involvement. For example, the EU sent a European Border Assistance Mission (EUBAM) to monitor the Transnistrian section of the Ukraine–Moldovan border. EUBAM was created in response to a joint letter sent by Voronin and Ukrainian President Yushchenko on 2 June 2005 to the Secretary-General of the EU and the President of the European Commission. In particular, the two presidents asked for financial help from the EU to strengthen Ukrainian customs control over the Transnistrian segment of the Moldovan–Ukrainian border, which stretches for about 286 miles.54 A tightened, honest, effective customs regime (barring substantial Russian assistance) would, it was assumed, strike a serious blow at the ability of the Transnistrian elites to survive financially. But one of the unintended consequences of the customs regime has been to promote the further Russian economic and financial penetration of the Transnistrian economy. On 7–8 June 2005 Voronin also travelled to Strasbourg and Brussels and appealed to the European Parliament and NATO for help.55 In October 2005 the EU reached an agreement with Moldova and Ukraine to send the Border Assistance Mission to help in securing the frontier between Moldova and Ukraine. The mission has expanded its operations since it began on 1 December 2005, and Chisinau has urged that the mandate of the mission be renewed.

Economic sanctions A major development occurred on 3 March 2006, when, after some hesitation beforehand, Ukraine introduced a new customs regime. This step was facilitated by greater EU involvement in the Transnistrian problem, the resolution of which is viewed by Brussels as critical to Moldova’s prospects for European integration. The introduction of the new customs regime required that all goods and products exported from Transnistria to Ukraine needed to bear a Moldovan customs stamp. The new system was not only specifically aimed at stopping the flow of illegal, criminal smuggling activities along the border between Transnistria and Ukraine, but also perhaps hopefully bringing about the economic collapse of the Smirnov regime, or at least promoting regime change which would enhance the prospects for a negotiated settlement.56 However, the Smirnov administration, with Russian support, argued that the new Ukrainian customs regime amounted to an economic blockade, and Tiraspol subsequently withdrew from the ‘5+2’ negotiations that had been underway. Furthermore, there was some concern that the collapse of the Orange Revolution coalition in Ukraine


after 2004 and the poor showing of Yushchenko’s Our Ukraine Party in the March 2006 elections would also undermine the new customs regime, given Voronin’s lack of support for Viktor Yanukovich. However, as prolonged negotiations to form a new Ukrainian coalition government stretched out in 2006, Ukraine continued to maintain the new customs regime as vowed by President Yushchenko. Moscow and Tiraspol also claimed that the customs regime was a violation of a 1997 agreement (the Primakov Memorandum) concluded by the parties to the dispute, which supposedly allowed Transnistria to engage in external economic activity, an interpretation of the agreement which was rejected by the Moldovan government. Moscow further argued that Ukraine, by instituting the new customs regime, had lost its position as a ‘guarantor’ of the cease-fire settlement that had been reached in 1992.57 There are elements in Moscow that have a vested economic interest in maintaining the status quo in Transnistria and are interested in blocking any settlement that would change it. The European institutions (especially the EU and the OSCE) urged Tiraspol to return to the ‘5+2’ negotiations, which it had boycotted in protest against the introduction of the new customs regime, as Transnistria also engaged in a ‘self-blockade’ limiting the movements of goods from Ukraine. Tiraspol claimed that the new customs rules had created a ‘humanitarian crisis’ and were causing significant economic damage to the Transnistrian economy. The Smirnov regime stated that a precondition for returning to the ‘5+2’ negotiations was the lifting of the customs regime. Tiraspol and Moscow also called for a ‘transit protocol’ that would allow Transnistria to export goods to Ukraine.58 In the meantime, Russia placed its approximately 1500 troops in Transnistria on alert, while Tiraspol urged Moscow to increase its number of ‘peacekeepers’ in the region. Furthermore, the Russian Ambassador to Moldova stated at a press conference on 20 March 2006 that Russia would protect its interests in the former Soviet sphere, sparking a reaction of outrage in Chisinau. The Russians also provided humanitarian, economic and financial aid to help Transnistria survive the economic blockade.59 However, Chisinau scored somewhat of a victory in requiring enterprises in Transnistria to register in Moldova in order to be able to do business, probably in part because Transnistrian and Russian business interests did not want to absorb further economic losses that resulted from the new customs regime. Most Transnistrian enterprises eventually registered in Moldova, including the Rybnitsa steel works, one of the most important enterprises in the separatist entity.60

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The Russian reaction Rather than celebrating what may have been a pyrrhic victory, however, it is clear that Moldova’s somewhat bolder reorientation toward Europe can be constrained by the principles of classic realism as Russia applies its power against Chisinau. The ‘irreversible integration’ with Europe touted by Chisinau will not be easy because Russia is Moldova’s biggest trading partner. Even before the introduction of the new customs regime, Moldova faced the prospect of economic sanctions from Russia to bring Chisinau’s European reorientation back into line with Moscow’s efforts to maintain and even enhance its influence in the former Soviet space.61 This obviously raises the question as to whether the EU and the US can provide Moldova with enough economic and financial support to counter Russian economic pressure. For example, in March 2005 the Russian Duma adopted a resolution calling for the imposition of sanctions against Moldova to punish Chisinau for its anti-Russian policies and economic pressure against Transnistria.62 Also in March 2005 the Deputy Russian Foreign Minister discussed plans underway by the various Russian ministries to apply economic leverage against Moldova.63 On 1 January 2006 the Russian energy giant Gazprom did increase the price of natural gas exported to Moldova from $80 per 1000 cubic metres to $110.64 Further negotiations have led to an increase in the price of natural gas to $160, with more increases expected. Gazprom also wanted to increase its share of control in a joint Russian–Moldovan gas company (Moldovogaz) from 50 per cent to 100 per cent, reflecting a consistent Russian policy of enhancing its ‘energy power’ by gaining control over the energy infrastructures of the states in the former Soviet space.65 Chisinau first viewed the price rises of natural gas as an effort to punish Moldova for shifting to a more EU-oriented policy, moving further out of Moscow’s sphere of influence, a view also shared by the EU.66 Moscow certainly is also interested in making money.67 Russia has also applied economic pressure on other Moldovan exports. By May 2006 Russia had imposed restrictions against the importation of Moldovan meat, requiring negotiations with Chisinau to ostensibly certify that the meat fulfils European health standards.68 The Russian Duma has also restricted the export of fruits and vegetables from Moldova to Russia,69 and at the end of March 2006 there was a shutdown in the flow of Moldovan wine and other alcoholic products to Russia, which served as a major source of export earnings for Chisinau. The Russian ban on Moldovan wine, supposedly for health reasons, was levied after the Ukrainian introduction of the new customs regime in


Transnistria in the spring of 2006. The outbreak of a ‘wine war’ between Russia and Moldova caused yet another severe economic blow to the Moldovan economy. The EU supported Moldova symbolically (but not as much as Chisinau wanted it to economically) as Brussels urged Chisinau to seek more diverse markets for its alcoholic products.70 The response of the West to increased Russian economic pressure on Moldova has been a reduction of Moldova’s debt to the Paris Club and the renewal of International Monetary Fund (IMF) aid to Moldova (which had been stopped in 2003).71 The World Bank may also provide supplemental aid to Moldova to soften the impact of the external shocks (i.e., the rise in the price of natural gas and the ban on exports of wine to Russia) which the country’s economy experienced in 2006. Transnistria, which has also been subjected to economic pressure from Moldova, can apply economic sanctions as well as military pressure against Chisinau in turn. Transnistria can block railway connections with Moldova and cut off electrical power and the supply of natural gas.72 There are also more direct forms of pressure that can be applied by Tiraspol against Moldova. Moldova temporarily withdrew from the Joint Control Council (JCC) in 2005 and 2006 in protest against the Commissions inability to prevent Tiraspol from engaging in provocative military actions. Chisinau called for an international force of military and civilian observers to replace the Russian peacekeepers that had been operating in the security zone that had been supervised by the JCC since 1992.73 Maintaining equidistance between East and West President Voronin, even though insisting that integration with Europe is irreversible, has tried not to burn all of his bridges to Russia. For example, Voronin attended the sixtieth anniversary celebration of VE Day in Moscow in May 2005, even though the presidents of Georgia and Azerbaijan boycotted the celebrations. Speaking on Russian radio on 8 May 2005, Voronin was careful to stress that Russia remains one of Moldova’s ‘strategic partners’ and that the only problem separating the two states was the problem of Transnistria.74 Voronin observed that Moldova ‘cannot sever its historic relations with Russia’ which ‘is in Moldova’s genetic code’. Consequently, the EU should view developments in Moldova and the Black Sea region with a strong dash of realism, cognizant of the fact that Moldova, which is still an illiberal democracy, continues to pursue a policy of balance of power politics based on astute calculations as to where its national interests lie between Europe and Russia.75 For instance, Voronin attended an

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‘informal’ Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) summit in Moscow in July 2006, stressing that Moldova would not withdraw from the CIS at that time but also criticized Russia for supporting the separatist movement in Transnistria in violation of the Basic Treaty signed in 2002 by Moscow and Chisinau.76 But Voronin also reportedly submitted a plan at the summit for improving Russian–Moldovan relations and was finally invited to a bilateral meeting with President Putin on 8 August 2006. Voronin’s plan supposedly called for complete Russian withdrawal of its troops from Transnistria. In return, Moldova would reach an agreement with Transnistria, which would provide it with autonomous status within the country. Moldova would also maintain its constitutionally guaranteed status of permanent neutrality. One could be certain that the Russians would counter with their own plan based on elements of the Kozak memorandum, the Yushchenko plan, and the 1997 Primakov memorandum. Subsequently, the Russian–Moldovan Intergovernmental Commission on Trade and Economics, which had not met since 2003, was also revived to deal with the outstanding economic issues between the two countries.77 The US is now involved along with the EU as an observer in the negotiations regarding Transnistria as part of the ‘5+2’ arrangement, and it supports the territorial integrity of Moldova, backing the efforts of the EU and other European institutions to find a solution to the ‘frozen conflict’ in Transnistria. When Vice-President Richard Cheney met with President Voronin in Vilnius, Lithuania within the framework of a regional meeting in early May 2006, he stated that ‘Moldova has many friends ready to help it’.78 Finally, the ‘coloured’ revolutions in the Black Sea region which can become stalled or subject to reversals of fortune, as seen in the case of Ukraine in 2006, means that an easy solution will not be found to the conundrum in Transnistria. One must also appreciate the extent to which Russia can inflict real economic pain on Moldova, or, alternatively, provide Moldova with positive economic incentives through an increase in economic aid within the framework of the CIS or on a bilateral basis. Finally, the ability of Europe to resolve the conflict in Transnistria as the critical step in Moldova’s path toward European integration and internal democratization (both the EU and Moldova recognize the interrelationship between the two) has been damaged by the current identity crisis which the EU is experiencing, which could adversely affect the EU’s efforts at stabilizing the security of the Black Sea region and surrounding areas.


Notes 1. The author gratefully acknowledges the research assistance of Jason Stiener of the John W. McCormack Graduate School of Policy Studies, University of Massachusetts/Boston. 2. The victory of the Rose Revolution in Georgia was later followed by a Russian–Georgian agreement in which Moscow agreed to withdraw its troops from its bases in Georgia. See ‘NATO Hails Russia–Georgia Troop Withdrawal Deal’, Interfax in World News Connection (hereinafter cited as WNC), 23 June 2005. 3. See Council of the European Union, Appointment of an EU Special Representative for Moldova. Brussels, 23 March 2005. 7023/05 (Presse 53), http://eurojournal. org/files/EUSR_mandate.pdf (Accessed 8 June 2006). 4. See ‘The European Commission’s Delegation to the Republic of Moldova’, http://www.delmda.cec.eu.int/en/index.htm (Accessed 8 June 2006). 5. See ‘The Foreign Policy Priorities of Moldova for 2003’, http://www.mfa.md/ en/policyelements/policypriorities%html (Accessed 31 July 2006). 6. President Voronin has claimed that this marks the beginning of Moldova’s European orientation. See ‘Vladimir Voronin: Ireversibilitatea Cursului European Al R. Moldova Reprezinta Garantia Reglementarii Transnistrene’ [Vladimir Voronin: The Irreversible European Course of the Republic of Moldova Represents the Guarantee for Transnistrian Rule], 16 May 2006, http://www.pca.md/news/959 (Accessed 5 June 2006). 7. For the text of the agreement, see ‘Partnership and Cooperation Agreement’, http://ec.europa.eu/comm./external_relations/ceeca/pca_moldova.pdf (Accessed 27 July 2006). 8. The above section relies very heavily on R. Weiner, ‘The Foreign Policy of the Voronin Administration’, Demokratizatsiya, XII (2004) pp. 541–56. 9. See S. Cara, ‘13 Anila Straja Hotarului’ [13 Years of Border Watch], Moldova Suverana, 10 June 2005, http://www.moldova-suverana.md.articol.php? id= 4753, (Accessed 11 June 2005). 10. A branch office of TACIS was set up in Moldova in 1999. See ‘TACIS Branch Office’, http://www.delmda.cec.eu.int/eu/about_us/2.htm (Accessed 27 July 2006). 11. See European Commission, ‘Commission Approves EUR 25 Million Package of Technical Assistance to Support Moldova’s Transition to a Market Economy’, 17 July 2003, http://ec.europa.eu/comm./external_relations/moldova/intro/ ipo3_1036.htm (Accessed 27 July 2006). 12. For a discussion of efforts by Moldova’s Commission for European Integration to implement the Moldovan–EU Action Plan, see ‘Guvernul Examinat Procesul De Implementare A Planul De Actiuni RM-UE’ [The Government Has Examined the Process of Implementing the RM-EU Action Plan], Moldova Suverana, 10 June 2005, http://www.moldova_suverana.md/articol. php?id=4748 (Accessed 11 June 2005). 13. For a Moldovan version of its ‘irreversible’ efforts to comply with EU conditions, see ‘Integrea Europeana Este Optiunea Ireversibilia Si Prioritara A Societetii Moldovenesti’ [European integration is the Irreversible Option and Priority of Moldovan Society], Moldova Suverana, 10 June 2005, http:// www.moldova-suverana.md/articol.php?id=4744 (Accessed 11 June 2005).

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14. See ITAR-TASS in WNC (20 November 2001). 15. For the text of the Kozak Memorandum, see ‘Russian Draft Memorandum on the Basic Principles of the State Structure of a United State in Moldova, Kozak Memorandum’, http://www.eurojournal.org/more.php?id=107_0_6-M5 (Accessed 27 July 2006). 16. For more information on the results of the elections, see http://www. elections2005.md (Accessed 1 August 2006). 17. For more details on the programme of the Party of Communists of the Republic of Moldova, see C. Mihalache, ‘PCRM Si-A Prezentat Lista Electorala’ [The PCRM Has Presented Its Electoral List], Moldova Suverana, 14 January 2005, http://www.moldova-suverana.md/articol.php?id=3879 (Accessed 14 January 2005). 18. ‘Ce A Cautat Saakasvili La Voronin’ [What Saakashvily Wanted From Voronin], Timpul, 4 March 2005, http://www.timpul.mdl.net/article.asp?idi ssue=968idRubric=1425+idArticle=3764 (Accessed 6 March 2005). 19. See ‘Vladimir Voronin and Mikhail Saakashvily Intend to Fight Against Europe’s “Black Holes” ’, 5 March 2005, http://www.azi.md/news?id=33284 (Accessed 23 March 2007). 20. For the importance of the ‘legacies of the past’ approach or path dependency to the study of the evolution of post-communist transitions, see P. G. Roeder, ‘The Revolution of 1989: Postcommunism and the Social Sciences’, Slavic Review, LXVIII (1999) p. 750. 21. ‘OSCE/ODIHR Election Observation Mission Final Report’, 3 June 2005, http://www.osce.org/documents/odihr/2005/06/14919_en.pdf (Accessed 10 April 2006). 22. See http://politicom.moldova.org/articole/=Rom/421/ (Accessed 6 March 2005). 23. See K. Nyman-Metcalf, ‘Comments on the Draft Audiovisual Code of the Republic of Moldova’, 26 July 2006, http://www1.osce.org/documents/ rfm/2006/04/18723.en.pdf. 24. ‘Joint Statement on the Occasion of World Press Freedom Day 2006’, 5 May 2006, http://www.azi.md/tribune?10=39110 (Accessed 10 May 2006). 25. See ‘Moldova, 2005 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices’, http:// www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2005/61664.htm (Accessed 10 June 2006). 26. See ‘Moldova Will Not Enter the EU Within Next 20 Years – EU Commissioner for Enlargement’, Moldova Azi, 20 February 2006, http://www.azi.md/ news?id=38117 (Accessed 20 February 2006). 27. For example, Voronin’s celebration of Lenin’s birthday, in April 2006, seemed to mark somewhat of a reversion to Leninism. 28. ‘Moldovan Opposition Party Rallies Against Europe’s Last Communist Regime’, Basapress in WNS (13 March 2006). 29. For a summary of the basic principles of the proposed pact, see http://www. infoukes.com/rfe-ukraine/2004/0602.html (Accessed 4 June 2006). 30. For initial EU reaction to the proposed Declaration, see ‘Javier Solana Thinks Declaration Signature is Possible’, Moldova Azi, 29 October 2004, http:// www.azi.md/news?ID=31577 (Accessed 4 June 2006). 31. Comprised of Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Moldova. Uzbekistan withdrew in May 2005, and the organization’s name was changed to GUAM.

Whither Moldova: East or West? 199 32. See ‘Yushchenko Presents Ukraine’s Plan of Transnistrian Conflict Settlement’, Moldova Azi, 22 April 2005, http://www.azi.md/print/33949/en (Accessed 25 May 2005). 33. See ‘Margelov: Attempt at Separate Settlement in Dniester Doomed to Failure’, ITAR-TASS in WNS (8 June 2005). 34. See ‘Belarus, Ukraine, and Moldova’, RFE/RL Report, Vol. 7 No. 22 (15 June 2005), http://www.rferl.org/reports/pbureport/default.asp. 35. See V. Soloviev, B. Volkhonsky, ‘The Plan of Victory Over Moldova’, Kommersant in WNS (8 June 2005). 36. See V. Socor, ‘Russia–West Standoff in Transnistria: Overall Post-Soviet Order at Stake’, 24 March 2006, http//:politicom.moldova.org/comentarii/ eng/551/ (Accessed 23 March 2007). 37. ‘Russian Envoy Regrets EU and USA Joining Dniester Talks’, RIA-Novosti in WNS (13 March 2006). 38. See Moldova Reporter.md (17 June 2005), available at www.reporter.md/en/. 39. According to a statement by Valery Litskay, Transnistrian ‘foreign minister’. See ‘Moldova: Dniester Foreign Minister Says Elections To (Be) Held Under “Own Laws” ’, Kiev Interfax Ukraine in WNS (18 June 2005). 40. See Council of Europe, ‘Venice Commission. Cooperation with Moldova’, http://www.venice.coe.Int/site/main/coop_MDA-E.asp (Accessed 10 April 2006). 41. See ‘Declaratia Associata Pentru Politica Externa Cu Privire La Planul Reglementare A Problemei Transnistrene Propuse Ucraina La 16 Mai 2005’ [Declaration of the Foreign Policy Association Concerning the Plan for Resolving the Transnistrian Problem Proposed by Ukraine on 16 May 2005], Moldova Azi, 30 May 2005, http://www.azi.md/tribune/id=34419. 42. See ‘Opposition Wins Democratic Election’, http://priednestrovie.net/1 dec2005Selection.html (Accessed 15 July 2006). 43. The Sheriff company has its own website. 44. See British Helsinki Human Rights Group, ‘Transnistria 2006: Is Regime Change Underway?’, http://www.bhhrg.org/CountryReport.asp?CountryID= 16&ReportID=260 (Accessed 9 April 2006). 45. For some background on Yevgeny Shevchuk, see ‘Reformer Yevgeny Shevchuk, New Head of Parliament’, http://pridnestrovie.net/evgeny_shevchuck_ bioprofile.html (Accessed 23 March 2007). 46. See ‘Russia Slams Moldova Parliament’s Move on Transnistria’, Interfax Russian and CIS Diplomatic Panorama for 16 June 2005 in WNS (16 June 2005). 47. See RFE/RL Newsline, Vol. 100 No. 100 (2 June 2006), http://www.rferl.org/ newsline/4-see.asp (Accessed 23 March 2007). 48. See V. Socor, ‘Moldovan Law Changes the Logic of Settlement of Transnistria, Eurasia Daily Monitor, 26 July 2005, http://www.jamestown.org/publications_ details.php?volume_id=407+issue_id=3414+article_id=2370063 (Accessed 3 June 2006). 49. According to Deputy Minister of Reintegration, Viktor Postolaki, http:// politicom.moldova.org/stiri/eng/33281. 50. For an unsuccessful effort by the opposition in Transnistria to challenge Smirnov’s power, see Novoia gazeta in WNS (22 June 2005). 51. Transnistria has held several referenda since separating from Moldova.

200 The Boundaries of EU Enlargement 52. For the EU position that it would not recognize the results of the referendum on 17 September 2006, see http://politicom.moldova.org/stiri/eng/17929. 53. According to the Speaker of the Moldovan Parliament. See ITAR-TASS in WNS, 16 June 2005 (Accessed 24 June 2005). 54. See S. L. Myers, ‘Ukraine Battles Smugglers As Europe Keeps Close Eye, The New York Times (28 May 2006), p. 4. 55. ‘Vladimir Voronin S-A Intretinut La Strasbourg Cu Presidentele Parliamentului European’ [Vladimir Voronin Has Met with the President of the European Parliament], Moldova Suverana, 10 June 2005, http:// moldova-suverana.md/articol.php?id=4745, (Accessed 11 June 2005). 56. See the report of the International Crisis Group, ‘Moldova’s Uncertain Future’, http://politicom.moldova.org/stiri/eng/16472 (Accessed 17 August 2006). 57. ‘Dniester Crisis Should Be Discussed Jointly-Lavrov’, ITAR-TASS in WNS (14 March 2006). 58. ‘Transdniestr Foreign Minister: Signing Transit Protocol May Resume 5+2 Negotiations’, 9 June 2006, http://www.regnum.ru/English/652631.htm (Accessed 23 March 2007). 59. On 23 May 2006, Tiraspol and Moscow signed a protocol which promoted further cooperation between Russian and Transnistrian business interests. See ‘Further Promotion Of Mutually Advantageous Economic Relations Between PMR and RF As Well As Cooperation In Other Spheres’, 23 May 2006, www. president-PMR.org/English/news/lenta_day (Accessed 18 July 2006). 60. ‘EU Helping To End Moldova Conflict, Says President’, 23 June 2006, http:// www.europa.md/eng/innfto/82 (Accessed 16 July 2006). 61. See D. Trenin, ‘Russia Leaves the West’, Foreign Affairs, 85:4 (2006) p. 95. 62. ‘Duma Ready to Consider Sanctions Against Moldova’, Moldova Azi, 18 February 2005, http://www.azi.md/news?id=33115 (Accessed 18 February 2005). 63. For more about an alleged Russian plan to maintain its influence in Moldova, see ‘Moscow Drew Up a Plan for Keeping Moldova Under Russia’s Influence’, Moldova Azi, 8 June 2005, http://www.azi.md/news?id=34553 (Accessed 8 June 2005). 64. Moldova Azi, 25 October 2005, http://www.azi.md/news.id=36528 (Accessed 28 October 2005). 65. Russia controlled about 50 per cent of Moldovagaz, Moldova about 34 per cent, and Transnistria about 13 per cent. 66. ‘Moldovan President Says Russian Sanctions Price to Pay for Independence’, Interfax in WNS, 23 June 2006, http:toolkit.dialog.com.ezp1.harvard.edu/ intranet/cgi/present (Accessed 23 June 2006). 67. M. N. Katz, ‘Exploiting Rivalries for Prestige and Profit: An Assessment of Putin’s Foreign Policy Approach’, Problems of Post-Communism, LXII (2005) p. 27. 68. See Moldova Azi, 8 February 2006, http://www.azi.md/news?id=37955 (Accessed 8 February 2006). 69. ‘Motivul Sanctiunilor Este Cusut Ata Alba’ [The Motive for the Sanctions is Sewed with White Thread], Moldova Suverana (24 May 2005). 70. See ‘Declaratia Privind Embargo-ul Impus Vinurilor Moldovene Estide Rusia’ [Declaration Concerning the Embargo Imposed on Moldovan Wine by Russia], 3 June 2006, http:www.pca.md/news/9332.

Whither Moldova: East or West? 201 71. ‘IMF Approves New Arrangement for Moldova’, Moldova. Azi, 10 May 2006, http://www.azi.md/news?id=39186 (Accessed 10 May 2006). 72. ‘Transdniester Threatens to Block Moldova Traffic to Ukraine’, RFE/RL Newsline, 17 June 2005, http://www.rferl.org/newsline/4-see.asp (Accessed 17 June 2005). 73. See ‘Moldovan Peacekeepers in Dniester Region Refuse to Obey Russian Joint Command’, ITAR-TASS (16 June 2005). 74. ‘Europeanization is Not a Deadly Sin: President of Moldova Professes Friendly Relations with Moldova’s Northern Neighbour’, Nezavisimaia gazeta in WNS, 11 April 2006, http://toolkit.dialog.com/espl.harvard.edu (Accessed 12 April 2006). 75. Of course, domestic considerations may also play a role in Voronin’s efforts to try and maintain a semblance of good relations with Moscow. 76. Voronin is a proponent of reforming the CIS. 77. See ‘Perspective Noi In Reglementarea Transnistreana si “Dezghetarea” Relatiilor Economice Moldo-Ruse’ [New Perspectives In Resolving Transnistria and ‘Unfreezing’ Moldovan-Russian Economic Relations], 9 August 2006, http://www.moldova-suverana.md/ (Accessed 10 August 2006). 78. ‘U.S. Says Moldova Has Many friends Ready to help It’, 9 May 2006, http:// www.politicom.moldova.org/stiri/eng/12709 (Accessed 23 March 2007).


Part IV The EU and South East Europe


11 The Europeanization of ‘Defective Democracies’ in the Western Balkans: Pre-accession Challenges to Democratic Consolidation Lenard J. Cohen

Nothing is irreversible. If someone says to me, ‘is it now irreversible that Bosnia will make the transition to becoming a stable state?,’ I would say no it is not inevitable, but it is highly likely . ... If the EU suddenly decides that the commitment it made in Greece in 2003 that the Western Balkans would come into Europe is not going to happen, then everything would be reversible. The prospect of joining Europe is the only glue that holds the region together. ~Paddy Ashdown, Former High Representative in Bosnia and Herzegovina (March 2006)1 Europe’s borders are defined rather by values than by geographical guidelines. Certainly, geographical borders set out the framework but values define the borders . ... Any European country that respects values like democracy, human rights, and rule-of-law, can apply to be a member [of the EU]. That does not mean that we have to accept every country. But it would be wrong to close the door forever by drawing a line in a map that forever sets the borders of Europe. ~Olli Rehn, EU Commissioner for Enlargement (April 2006)2

Introduction In the wake of disintegrated state units throughout eastern European and Eurasia, new modes of rule and new perceptions of political authority have replaced communist authoritarianism. Elites and publics in transitional post-communist societies have also experienced a profound 205


transformation in their values and modes of behaviour. The tensions and problems of adjustment accompanying such changes have presented daunting challenges. They have also accounted for the fluid character of individual and collective identities in post-communist states, as well as the marked alteration of their political cultures. Leaders and citizens in post-communist societies have been compelled to adopt new national and state loyalties and to re-examine their beliefs and behaviour regarding political life. Emerging and altered political identities and political cultures do not reflect an instant or stark discontinuity with prior loyalties and commitments; rather they involve a blending or juxtaposition of old and new values, an either comfortable or more troubled admixture of both well-established and new forms of political behaviour. Identity changes and the evolution of political cultures also have been profoundly influenced by a variety of factors, including the political dynamics emanating from current domestic, regional and global settings. This chapter is particularly concerned with the manner in which political cultures and political identities in the western Balkan region (comprised of Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia, Serbia, Montenegro, Albania and Kosovo) are transforming in response to the process of European integration. For example, to what extent has ‘Europeanization’ – that is, measures taken by a country to accommodate the requirements of potential EU entry or pre-accession processes – had a significant impact on elite and citizen political identities and political changes in the western Balkans? That question has clearly elicited quite different views on the part of decision-makers and members of the public within the 27 member states of the European Union (EU). For example, during 2005 contending perspectives in the EU regarding the benefits from the mid-2004 enlargement, which included eight east central European post-communist states, and the potential continuation of that process in south east Europe and the so-called EU ‘neighbourhood’ were to some extent associated with the failure of referenda in France and the Netherlands on a proposed EU constitution. Indeed, EU enlargement has remained highly controversial throughout 2006 as the member states have paused for an ‘extended period of reflection’ on the future size and dynamics of the EU. Thus recent Eurobarometer polling indicates that European citizens trust the EU more than ever before despite the EU’s difficulties. But public opinion in favour of enlargement has dropped during 2005–06. For example, support for enlargement throughout the EU was 49 per cent in the autumn of 2005 but had fallen to 45 per cent by the spring of 2006. And in Germany,

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Luxembourg, France, Austria and Finland some six out of ten citizens reportedly oppose future enlargement.3 Citizens in new EU member states from post-communist eastern Europe were more willing to keep EU doors open. In Slovenia support was 73 per cent and in Poland 72 per cent, while the equivalent figures were also high in Lithuania (60 per cent), Hungary (59 per cent), the Czech Republic (58 per cent) and Slovakia (58 per cent). However, the mood overall in the EU was not very welcoming for expansion beyond the admission of Bulgaria and Romania in January 2007. In recent years surveyed citizens in the EU have been highly sceptical about the admission of the western Balkan states. For example, as recently as the fall of 2005 Eurobarometer data indicated that the majority of the respondents in the EU states were not in favour of admitting Albania, Serbia and Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina or Macedonia, and only a bare majority (51 per cent) favoured the admission of Croatia.4 More recent Eurobarometer data (July 2006)5 indicates a significant change and that the majority of the EU-25 respondents expressing an opinion supported the accession of the western Balkan states except for Albania, providing the countries of the region comply with all the conditions stipulated by the EU as mandatory for membership (Figure 11.1). If undecided respondents are taken into account, the extent of support for accession of these states is quite shallow (Macedonia – 49 per cent; Bosnia – 48 per cent; the former Serbia and Montenegro – including Kosovo – 47 per cent) except in the case of Croatia (56 per cent). EU citizens are also closely divided on the entry of Albania, with 47 per cent against and only 41 per cent in favour. According to the EU citizens surveyed the major challenges facing all of the Balkan countries are respect for human and minority rights (43 per cent); reconciliation and cooperation with neighbouring countries (31 per cent); and democracy (30 per cent). Scepticism in the EU regarding the advantages of admitting the western Balkan states in particular derives from a variety of factors, including the kinds of economic issues and anti-immigrant stereotyping that arose during the referenda in France and the Netherlands. But along with the current situational factors that shape citizen attitudes in the EU states there is a persistent and warranted perception in the EU that the western Balkan states continue to significantly lag with regard to the Europeanization of political values. Also prevalent is the perception that those states suffer from a profound democratic deficit both in comparison to the old member states and to those that entered in mid-2004.


QD16.1 Once each of the following countries complies with all conditions set be the European Union, would you be strongly in favour, fairly in favour, fairly opposed or strongly opposed to the accession of each of them to the European Union?

EU25

60% 50%

49%

48% 41%

40%

56% 47%

44% 37%

36%

33%

30%

30%

20% 10% 0%

The former Albania Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia

Bosnia and Serbia and Herzegovina Montenegro

In favour

Croatia

Opposed

Figure 11.1 Citizen attitudes in EU member states regarding the prospective admission of the western Balkan states Source: ‘Attitudes Towards European Union Enlargement’, Special Eurobarometer 255 (July 2006), p. 67. © European Communities, 1995–2007.

The Democratic deficit in the western Balkans Underlying factors Several factors have contributed to the difficulties of democratic consolidation faced by the western Balkan countries. Some of these problems have been of a long-term nature, while others are more clearly linked to the recent issues of post-communist transition. Considered together, these negative dimensions account for the fact that one can characterize the western Balkan regimes – through at least a portion of their post-communist evolution and, for the most part, their current stage of development – as democracies with an adjective, i.e., democracies that one can term – to a greater or lesser extent depending on the regime in question – ‘unconsolidated’, ‘hybrid’, ‘defective’, ‘illiberal’, ‘reduced’, ‘low intensity’, etc. For example, deeply embedded and often religiously promoted traditions of patriarchal and patrimonial rule in south east Europe provide a


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less hospitable environment for the development of the rule-of-law and participatory politics than the historically more pluralist political cultures of southern Europe or east central Europe. Patrimonial practices – with sultanism as its least constrained extreme form – were reinforced during several centuries of Ottoman domination in the Balkans (except in most of Croatia) and accounted for a dominant pattern of state-society relations characterized by the highly personalized exercise of power, capriciousness, corrupted forms of governance and administration, as well as weakened civil society and serious deficiencies in organizational coherence and capacity.6 The adverse or limiting repercussions of such traditions for the process of democratic consolidation are discernable in the western Balkan states during the twilight and aftermath of the dictatorial regimes over the last two decades. The western Balkan states have also suffered from an unfavourable ‘developmental sequence’ with respect to the installation of democratic procedures on the one side and the establishment of the rule-of-law on the other. Thus one can make a rather credible argument that states which have been able to incorporate the rule-of-law into their political and societal dynamics prior to the elaboration of democratic pluralism have had a better chance of consolidating democracy. In other cases, as in south east Europe, where rule-of-law development generally parallels or follows the initiation of democratic procedures, the consolidation of democracy is far less successful. The law-precedes-democracy developmental sequence has proved favourable to the establishment of sustained and stable democratic rule in western and northern Europe, but also in southern and central Europe.7 Long-term or historically based issues such as the prolonged domination of the Balkans under imperial-patrimonial rule, domestic authoritarianism and the unfavourable developmental sequence regarding legal institutions account for and have been reinforced by the relatively short experiences with democratic rule in the region. The virulent and exclusivist forms of ethnic nationalism which have been especially apparent in the western Balkans over the last century have also contributed to the intolerance and violence often directed at minority groups in the region. During Ottoman rule the most salient identity in the Balkans was confessional beliefs. Such identity was only slowly replaced in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by the more strongly nationalist outlook of insurrectionary movements attempting to overturn imperial rule by both the Turks and AustriaHungary. Such emergent nationalist resistance would eventually prove critical to identity formation in the region, and the violent character of

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the nationalist anti-imperialist struggle strengthened the ‘gun culture’ and the virtues of military prowess as permanent features linked to political struggle in the region.8 Ethnicity as a basis for national identity in the Balkans assumed a heightened role during the interwar period when ethno-nationalism became a prime strategy either for the political integration or the legitimization of anti-state movements in each of the Balkan states. In multinational Royal Yugoslavia competing ethno-nationalisms challenged each other and the central authorities, thereby impeding state legitimization and setting the stage for the state collapse and savage inter-ethnic struggles during the Second World War. Later, during the last decade of communist rule – after the failure of the ostensibly de-nationalized one-party ideologies that were intended to discredit and transcend competing sub-national loyalties – aggressive ethno-nationalism experienced an effervescence owing to the policies of former communists who out of either opportunity (e.g., Slobodan Milosevic in Serbia) or conviction (Franjo Tudjman in Croatia) became ethnic entrepreneurs. These leaders, like many others in the disintegrating socialist Yugoslavia and throughout south east Europe, found the nation and national symbols useful as a legitimating formula to advance their political dominance. This trend significantly contributed to the disintegration of Yugoslavia and helped to impede the adoption of civic forms of identity throughout the western Balkans.9 Following the disintegration of Titoist Yugoslavia many of the new states in the region have also suffered from a ‘crisis of stateness’ owing to the salience of border issues, internal identity cleavages and other problems of territorial and cross-ethnic cohesion. Such stateness deficiencies have seriously undermined the ability of polities in the region to become embedded or durable democracies with pluralist political cultures and predominantly civic identities. Simply put, serious conflicts surrounding identity or bonds of cultural loyalty and allegiance – national, ethnic, religious and linguistic – can play an important role in both stimulating and obstructing the process of state-making and democratization. Ironically, the same kinds of identity issues that may promote state creation and the ‘liberation’ of repressed nationalities in an ethnically heterogeneous authoritarian state can also impede democratization in the established successor states. The western Balkan states that have been the most insufficiently consolidated throughout their post-communist evolution, from a democratic perspective, have also been the countries suffering from very apparent ‘stateness problems’: Albania, which imploded and reached a


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situation approaching anarchy (1996/1997); Macedonia, where division between the Slavic majority and the Albanian minority resulted in warfare (2001); Kosovo, with its continuing problems of unresolved status and delinquent state building owing to Albanian-Serb ethnic distance before and after the 1999 war; Bosnia, where continuing struggle and ethnic segmentation between its entities and among the three constituent ethnic communities contributed to a failure at constitutional reform in 2006; and Serbia, with its ongoing ‘crisis of identity’ that has resulted in part from Montenegrin sovereignty seeking (that was only concluded in May 2006 by a referendum and Montenegro’s declaration of independence), and also the problem of Kosovo and other manifestations of inter-ethnic and inter-territorial tension (in Vojvodina, Sandzak and southern Serbia).10 Not surprisingly, Croatia, the western Balkan state exhibiting the highest level of stateness (minor border issues with Slovenia notwithstanding), is also the region’s relatively most democratically consolidated state (see below). Beyond their long-term problems with democratic consolidation and stateness challenges the western Balkan region has had to cope with various problems associated with the legacy and termination stage of one-party authoritarian rule, as well as the difficult and initial introduction of democratic regimes. For example, the wars in the first half of the 1990s severely disrupted the successor states to the former Yugoslavia, as well as neighbouring countries in south east Europe. Corruption flourished during the wars of the Yugoslav succession and permitted criminal networks to become deeply embedded in the political structures of several states (particularly Serbia, as well as neighbouring Bosnia and Herzegovina). The early period of democracy formation and postcommunism in the region was also typically dominated by incumbent members of the previous communist regime who endeavoured to perpetuate their control of power and resources within the new, ostensibly democratic, order. More genuinely democratic forces were weaker than self-proclaimed democrats who had served in various capacities under the old regime. Thus in east central Europe authentically democratic forces proved stronger than in south east Europe, both before and after the end of the communist regime. Moreover, in most of the east central European cases a situation prevailed where political actors capable of supporting reform programmes constituted a sizeable ‘liberal constellation’ that assisted a relatively smooth process of democratic consolidation. In contrast, in the western Balkans and other south east European states a mixed constellation of both liberal and anti-liberal parties have generally competed for power. The anti-liberal political parties

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(nationalist, populist or communist) have espoused or flirted with ideologies and policies that perpetuate authoritarian practices. As one observer put it, typically in such countries ‘democratic transformation has developed in a stop-and-go or up-and-down pattern’.11 Clearly the countries of the western Balkans have exhibited regional peculiarities that help account for their lag in political development. Because these states have faced challenges that have imposed special ‘parameters on democratic consolidation’, they qualify, to different extents, to be characterized as ‘defective democracies’.12 The critical issues are whether such defects can eventually be overcome, and how long that process will take. In view of such considerations, there remains also the question of whether the western Balkan regimes should have to wait for EU entry until they rest firmly on a foundation of democratic values and standards which at least approximate those of the postcommunist new member states in east central Europe. The EU and western Balkan state building In large part the EU procedures and requirements for the accession of new members – or what this study refers to as the process of Europeanization – are designed to initiate the reversal, if not the total elimination, of the democratic deficits or illiberal traits that have traditionally troubled acceding member states. The framework of Europeanization in terms of a model of governance specifying the values, norms, and principles of the EU is outlined in various EU guidelines for membership, including the wellknown ‘Copenhagen criteria’ for accession adopted in 1993; the ‘Agenda 2000’, further specifying criteria for membership eligibility; the ‘Thessalonika Agenda for the Western Balkans’ of June 2003, which delineated mechanisms to implement the Stabilization and Association Process (SAP) through ‘European partnerships’; and other measures for harmonization with the 35 chapters of the acquis communaitare for countries seeking accession to the EU. The EU pre-accession process is one of the most ambitious democracy-promotion efforts ever attempted, and the endeavour relies upon a toolbox of mechanisms to condition or lever acceptance of the Europeanization process. In brief, the EU, as most international organizations, utilizes a reward-based approach in which target governments must comply with certain conditions and introduce certain pro-integration reforms in order to obtain resources and be deemed to have met the criteria set for stages of pre-accession progress. M. A. Vachudova has usefully outlined four mechanisms through which the EU exercises leverage aimed at domestic political change in countries engaged in the pre-accession process.13 Two of the mechanisms


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are most apparent immediately following the end of the one-party communist order, when illiberal elites or pre-democratic constellations of political forces are still in partial control of the post-communist political process: first, the role played by European institutions as a ‘focal point for cooperation’ among opposition forces to the illiberal elites, and, secondly, the creation of incentives for opposition politicians to ‘adapt’ their agendas to the EU and other international organizations. Two other mechanisms usually become more significant after the so-called ‘watershed elections’ that result in the political ascendancy of reform democrats who are committed to a more fundamental break with the communist past: ‘straight-forward conditionality’ that is reward-based, and the process of ‘credible commitment to reform’ itself. For example, elections such as those in Romania (1996), Bulgaria (1997), Slovakia (1998), Croatia (2000), Bosnia and Herzegovina (2000), Serbia-Montenegro (2000) and Macedonia (2002) can be viewed as the kinds of turning points (although some subsequent setbacks have occurred) when reformist forces are elected and begin to evince a ‘credible commitment to reform’ that makes democracy more irreversible. Moreover, such elections make the regime more susceptible to the kind of conditionality that has positive consequences for the long-term Europeanization process. How effectively has the EU applied its Europeanization programme for the western Balkan region? Since a comprehensive analysis of political development trends in each of the western Balkan states and political entities is beyond the scope of this chapter, this study utilizes the analysis of governance trajectories in the region based upon the highly respected Bertelsmann Transformation Index (BTI).14 Evaluating the process of democratic development in the western Balkan countries, the 2006 BTI classified four of the five countries as ‘defective democracies’ (Macedonia, Serbia and Montenegro – prior to its dissolution in May –, Albania, and Bosnia and Herzegovina). Kosovo, which is preoccupied with state building without statehood and which one can certainly classify as defective in terms of democratic consolidation (see below), was not included in the Bertelsmann study. Croatia was classified as a functioning democracy, making headway in the process of democratic consolidation. The defective democracies, as assessed in the BTI, are affected most by problems related to stateness (i.e., the state’s capacity to govern, its legitimacy and fundamental agreement about who should qualify to be considered a citizen), the rule-of-law (i.e., guarantees of civil liberties, measures to punish abuse of power by officials, existence of an independent judiciary and workable

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separation of powers), institutional stability (i.e., acceptance and support of democratic institutions, performance of democratic institutions) and political and social integration (i.e., a stable, moderate and socially rooted party system, a network of non-governmental institutions to mediate between citizens and the state, capability for citizens and groups for self-organization and the accruing of social capital). The most democratic progress made by the western Balkan states appears to be in the area of political participation rights, i.e., the voting population’s determination of who governs by means of free and fair elections, as well as the ability of citizens and organizations to organize and express themselves freely. The BTI also examined trends and development of the market economy in the western Balkan countries, with the findings corresponding closely to the ratings for democratic development. However, if one considers economic performance, Albania falls behind Bosnia. The BTI additionally evaluated various aspects of political management, including, among other factors, the regime’s ‘steering capability’ (i.e., the leader’s capability to implement reform policies) and ‘consensus building’ (i.e., the extent of cleavages within the elite on basic democratic and free market rules-of-the-game, and reconciliation between the victims and perpetrators of past injustices). The ratings on political management were very similar to the findings with respect to the spheres of democratization and free market principles: Croatia was in the lead, and Bosnia ranked lowest on the management dimension. The difficulties of consensus building in ethnically segmented Bosnia were starkly apparent, as they were in Serbia, where the issue of dealing with the recent past remains outstanding. Overall, there was considerable variety among the five western Balkan countries included in the BTI with regard to the development of democracy and the market economy. Moreover, when compared to Bertelsmann data for other south east European and east central European countries, Croatia’s aggregate rating for democratic and market development ranked higher than those results for Bulgaria and Romania. Croatia’s position more closely resembles the east central European countries than the states of the western Balkans. Meanwhile, in 2006 Turkey’s position was quite close to the ratings for the four defective and weakly democratic western Balkan cases. As far as democratic development is concerned, the gap between the western Balkan countries and the east central European states is particularly apparent in the area of the rule-of-law, as well as in the


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Table 11.1 State of democracy in the western Balkans

Stateness

Political Participation

Rule-of-Law

Institutional Stability

Political and Social Integration

Croatia Macedonia Serbia & Montenegro Albania Bosnia & Herzegovina Total Western Balkans

9.5 8.0 8.8

10.0 9.0 8.5

8.3 7.0 6.8

9.5 8.0 7.0

8.3 5.8 6.0

8.0 7.0

8.0 8.5

5.5 6.5

7.5 7.0

7.3 5.0

8.3

8.8

6.8

7.8

6.5

ECE, Bulgaria, Romania

9.6

9.7

8.8

9.3

7.8

Best Score = 10 Worst Score = 1 Source: Adapted from Bertelsmann Transformation Index (BTI).

economic sphere with respect to matters necessary to improve the quality and competitiveness of a market economy (i.e., privatization, regulatory frameworks, educational reforms, etc.). The western Balkans also lagged behind east central Europe in terms of political management capabilities. Overall, when one compares BTI trends for the western Balkan states to ratings for other areas of the world, it seems that the states of the region have more in common with the problems of governance, weak state structure, political representativeness and populism in many Latin American democracies than with the Europeanization process that has been underway since 1989 in east central Europe. It appears that establishing a strong foundation of electoral support for liberal reform policies and creating the socio-political basis for sustained liberal party constellations present substantial difficulties ahead for the defective democracies of the western Balkans. The states of the region must also confront the problem of widening social disparities and the shadow economies which weaken market institutions, as well as the difficulty of transcending ethno-cultural cleavages. Although Kosovo, as a protectorate under international administration, was not included in the BTI, its problems are substantially similar to the rest of the western Balkans. Thus serious governance and economic challenges clearly locate Kosovo in the family of ‘defective democracies’, particularly with respect to rule-of-law and minority rights. As status

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talks continue, Kosovo is likely to be accorded some form of ‘conditional independence’ but will certainly confront the same, if not a heavier, load of challenges to democratic consolidation as the protectorate is dismantled and future status becomes clarified. Indeed, the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) reported that between March 2005 and June 2006 public satisfaction in Kosovo with the Provisional Institutions of governance decreased by 40 per cent!15 The mid-July 2006 report of the Ombudsperson Institution in Kosovo concluded that: ‘The judiciary remains weakened by allegations of widespread corruption and lack of funding ... Kosovo does not have a strong and independent judiciary to fall back on and ... most of the judges in Kosovo only started exercising judicial functions after 1999 ... . In Kosovo at the moment the governing structures still resist recognition and support of the rights of minority communities, especially the Serbian and Roma communities, while certain minority groups, including the Serbian community, refuse to recognize the Kosovo institutions’.16 A recent report also found that the situation of minorities in Kosovo was the worst in Europe, with the highest degree of segregation and harassment of people on an ethnic basis.17

Conclusion EU enlargement policy has been a major factor in unifying Europe and promoting democracy in the post-communist states of east central Europe. But, as a result of their own problems and malaise, and also the inter-state differences and rivalries among EU member countries regarding whether and how best to proceed with European integration, there is considerable scepticism in Europe about the urgency of moving forward with the accession of new countries. At the summit of EU leaders in June 2006, a declaration suggested that constitutional momentum – derailed by the 2005 French and Dutch ‘no’ votes – was again a high priority and set the end of 2008 for the conclusion of the present debate on further European integration. But European support for further expansion of the EU is highly problematic. For example, large segments of the public in France (54 per cent), Germany (52 per cent), Luxembourg (50 per cent), Finland (47 per cent), Austria (45 per cent), the Netherlands (44 per cent) and Belgium (41 per cent) indicate that they feel frustration, annoyance or fear when they hear discussions about EU enlargement.18 And, on a general level, a systematic qualitative analysis of attitudes in the EU countries conducted in February–March 2006 reveals a climate of uncertainty and anxiety about the future.19 The basis for such concern lies in fears


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about job security, the impact of globalization, and a weakening of the social protection systems. There are also widespread concerns about the existence of threats to the integrity of the ‘social fabric’, including worries about traditions being lost. In some states, such as Germany, the United Kingdom, Cyprus and Estonia, there appears to be a strong sense of ‘defensive anxiety’, while in some new member states of the EU large segments of the population express a ‘rejection of the “westernization” of society’ or a ‘dispossession of the natural economic heritage’. Throughout the EU a great many respondents express concern about a number of EU failures, including ‘the lack of a collective spirit’, concern that enlargement has been ‘too great and too rapid’ (and often a concern for the future potential entry of Turkey), and ‘the absence of a “European identity” able to attract people’s support’. When asked to explain the gap between EU ideals and reality, those Europeans surveyed noted a number of different reasons, including the different interests among the 25 countries, the significant economic and cultural difficulties among countries, inefficient EU governance, and hostile feelings and national resistance in the course of Europe’s complex history. Bulgaria and Romania entered the EU in January 2007, but the schedule of further enlargements to include other candidate countries (i.e., Croatia and Macedonia) and the so-called ‘potential candidates’ in the western Balkans remains unclear.20 There is widespread recognition that Bulgaria and Romania remain incompletely ‘Europeanized’, particularly with respect to corruption and the reform of their judicial systems. Clearly, the western Balkan political systems identified above as defective democracies have reason to be concerned with the current trends in EU public opinion and in EU policy. All the western Balkan regimes can expect to be subjected to very rigorous or strict scrutiny as they move through the pre-accession process prior to their likely eventual EU entry. EU officials are, of course, very cognizant of the potential dangers that might arise from an extended accession process in the western Balkans, particularly the frequently mentioned dark scenario in which south east Europe would become not only a ghetto separated from the rest of Europe, but also fertile soil for radical Euroscepticism, Euro-phobia, nationalism and xenophobia. Indeed, leaders from the western Balkans frequently remind EU officials of the prospects for such problems, particularly when it is politically useful in attempting to avoid the pressures of conditionality measures advocated by Brussels. Thus there is a good deal of political realism within EU elite circles regarding the advantages of moving ahead expeditiously with the integration of the western Balkans. Indeed, one argument maintains that it


may be more productive and efficient to address or try to conclude the Europeanization of defective or imperfectly consolidated democracies after they join the EU rather than to pay the high costs and suffer the complications that may arise from substantially slowing down the enlargement process. Meanwhile, the western Balkan elites are also realistic with respect to their own perceptions. By and large, they are anxious to accommodate EU conditionality in order to gain access to the EU and not precipitate any prolonged delays of the European integration process.21 This mood of accommodation in western Balkan decision-making circles to facilitate EU entry has had a generally stabilizing influence on the region. For example, the EU was able to end the 2001 Macedonian conflict between Albanian insurgents and the central government; to broker an agreement between Serbia and Montenegro in 2003, establishing a weak state ‘Union’ (that was eventually peacefully dissolved after a Montenegrin independence referendum in May 2006, but with the EU’s blessing of the voting procedure); to persuade Croatia to disclose the whereabouts of General Ante Gotovina, who was indicted by The Hague War Crimes Tribunal; and to prod Serbia – which contains highly Eurosceptic political forces that remain keenly devoted to traditional ethnic notions of political identity – to adjust, albeit very slowly, to EU (and international) conditionality on a variety of matters critical to moving ahead with the EU pre-accession process. During the late summer of 2006 it appeared that the ‘reward’ of advancement as a potential EU candidate country might eventually persuade Serbia to become more accommodating of the arrest of General Ratko Mladic, and also to accept a compromise solution to the Kosovo status issue.22 The Europeanization of the western Balkans is proceeding. Democratic consolidation is gradually moving ahead in the region, and political culture and notions of identity are slowly changing. Democratization, and societal value change is, more generally, an intermestic process, critically involving external actors but highly dependent on domestic elites and public activists.23 Democracy may not yet be the ‘only game in town’ – a condition which is sometimes viewed as the threshold for democratic consolidation –, but today other political games have a diminishing opportunity to undermine regime stability and the fundamental legitimacy of pluralist rule. The process of democratic consolidation is a complex and prolonged one that is likely to have ups and downs both in terms of the achievement of regional transformation and also with respect to the extent of present EU member states’ enthusiasm for the western Balkan experiment.


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Notes 1. Quoted by epolitix.com, 10 March 2006, http://www.epolitix.com/EN/ Interviews/200603/e2742071-947d-4c21-9880-101a8ebbb1ae.htm (Accessed 6 October 2007). 2. Originally from an interview (in German) at welt online (10 April 2006) http://www.welt.de/ 3. European Commission, Eurobarometer 65. Public Opinion in the European Union: First Result. Brussels, July 2006, pp. 26–7. 4. European Commission, Eurobarometer 64. Brussels, December 2005. 5. European Commission, Attitudes Toward European Union Enlargement: Special Eurobarometer 255. Brussels, July 2006. 6. For a good overview of Balkan political cultures, see P. N. Diamandourous and F. S. Larrabee, ‘Democratization in South-Eastern Europe’, in G. Pridham and T. Gallagher, eds, Experimenting with Democracy: Regime Change in the Balkans (London: Routledge, 2000), pp. 24–64. 7. P. N. Diamandourous, ‘The Role of the Ombudsman in Strengthening Accountability and the Rule of Law’, speech at the Constitution Unit, University College, London, 29 November 2005. 8. ‘The Rifle Has the Devil Inside: Gun Culture in Southeastern Europe’, Southeastern and Eastern European Clearing House for the Control of Small Arms and Light Weapons (United Nations Development Programme, 15 June 2006). 9. L. J. Cohen and J. Dragovic-Soso, eds, State Collapse in Southeastern Europe: New Perspectives on the Disintegration of Yugoslavia (West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, forthcoming 2007). 10. S. Vucetic has argued that ‘stateness’ is probably the ‘most pertinent conditioning variable’ for explaining the extent of democratization in the Balkans. ‘From Southern to Southeastern Europe: Any Lessons for Democratization Theory?’, Southeastern European Politics, 5:2–3 (2004) pp. 115–41. 11. F. Schimmelfennig, ‘European Regional Organizations, Political Conditionality and Democratic Transformation in Southeastern Europe’, Club de Madrid-IV, General Assembly and Annual Conference, Prague, 10–12 November 2005, p. 6. 12. S. Schmidt has observed that defective democracies are systems of governance with a working electoral system, but with defects which substantially impede other core democratic features relating to freedom, equality and accountability. Although liberal democracies are also affected with such deficits, their problems are not extensive enough to ‘affect the very logic of democracy’, or threaten a deterioration of authoritarianism. ‘New Kids on the Block: Embedded Democracy, Defective Democracy and Failing States: A Discussion of Concepts and Typologies’ in Democratization: A Central Task of Media Development Cooperation (Bonn: Catholic Media Council, May 2005). For a good overview of the voluminous literature on democratic consolidation, see A. Hadenius, ‘Democratic Consolidation in Third Wave Democracies’ in S. Eliason, ed., Building Democracy and Civil Society East of the Elbe (London: Routledge, 2006), pp. 265–88. H. J. Puhle has observed that a defective democracy is more than a ‘reduced’ or ‘inconsistent’ form of

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13.

14.

15. 16. 17.

18. 19. 20.

21.

The Boundaries of EU Enlargement democracy but can acquire considerable civility and become a ‘gray zone’ of the democratic species. ‘Democratic Consolidation and “Defective Democracies” ’, Estudio/Working Paper 47 (13 May 2005). See also W. Merkl, ‘Embedded and Defective Democracies’, Democratization, 11:5 (2004) pp. 33–58. ‘Promoting Political Change and Economic Revitalization in the Western Balkans: The Role of the European Union’, Slovak Foreign Policy Affairs (Fall 2005), pp. 67–73. See M. Brusis and P. Thiery, Comparing Political Governance: Southeastern Europe in a Global Perspective (Munich: Centre for Applied Policy Research, January 2006), CAP Policy Research, No. 1. Fast Facts on Kosovo Early Warning Report No. 13 (Pristina: United Nations Development Programme, June 2006). Ombudsperson Institution in Kosovo, Sixth Annual Report, 2005–2006 (Pristina: Assembly of Kosovo, 11 July 2006). C. Baldwin, Report: Minority Rights in Kosovo under International Rule (London: Minority Rights Group International, July 2006). See also Kosovo Future Status Process, Knowledge-Attitudes-Practices (KAP) Survey Final Report (Pristina: KIPRED, 19 July 2006); Report Submitted by the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo to the Human Rights Committee on the Human Rights Situation in Kosovo Since June 1999 (New York: United Nations, 13 March 2006), CCPR./C/UNK/1; and Not on the Agenda: The Continuing Failure to Address Accountability in Kosovo Post-March 2004 (New York: Human Rights Watch, May 2006), Vol. 18, No. 4. European Commission, Eurobarometer: The Future of Europe. Brussels, May 2006. European Commission, Eurobarometer: The European Citizens and the Future of Europe, Qualitative Study in the 25 Member States. Brussels, May 2006. In June 2006 European Enlargement Commissioner Olli Rehn observed that after the accession of Bulgaria and Romania planned for 2007, there will be no further EU enlargement ‘before the end of the decade’ (2010). After the entry of Bulgaria and Romania, he said, ‘the next country in the list will probably be Croatia ... . Beyond that, any forecast is impossible’. AFP in World News Connection (6 June 2006). Croatia’s Prime Minister Ivo Sanader has tried to separate his country from the future and as yet unscheduled western Balkan wave of accession: ‘We, of course, see that the EU is preoccupied with itself, undergoing selfexamination, and wondering whether or not there is a danger that enlargement will slow down. However, we believe that Croatia belongs to the fifth wave of enlargement by 13 countries ... . I am referring to the ten newcomers from 2004, Bulgaria and Romania, plus our own country. Croatia has strong and deep traditions of European culture ... . We have taken note of two unsuccessful referendums on the European Constitution. However, I believe the EU will resolve its internal problems by 2008’. Bratislava Pravda in World News Connection (28 May 2006). Chairman of the European Parliament’s Committee on Foreign Affairs Elmar Brock has also promoted the 10+2+1 formula that Sanader alludes to in his remarks. HINA (25 August 2006).


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22. Serbia’s complex problems of adjusting domestic traditions to EU values is explored more fully in L. J. Cohen, ‘Identity Formation and Political Development in Serbia: Blending Traditions and a “European Perspective” ’, paper prepared for the 2006 ASN Conference on ‘Globalization, Nationalism, and Ethnic Conflicts in the Balkans and its Regional Context’, Belgrade, Serbia, 28–30 September 2006. 23. M. A. Vachudova has aptly observed that ‘the EU’s leverage cannot work alone but only in synergy with the efforts of domestic elites ... . [W]hat stands out on final analysis is the diversity that stems from the nature and competence of domestic elites and, quite forcefully from the domestic conditions that these elites have to address’. ‘Democratization in PostCommunist Europe: Illiberal Regimes and the Leverage of International Actors’, International Speakers Series, Department of Political Science, Yale University, 11 April 2006. See also S. Levitsky and L. A. Way, ‘Linkage and Leverage: How do International Factors Change Domestic Balances of Power?’ in A. Schedeler, ed., Electoral Authoritarianism: The Dynamics of Unfree Competition (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2006), pp. 199–219.

12 The EU in South East Europe: Peace Consolidation and Differentiation Annegret Bendiek

Introduction: The role of the European Union in south east Europe On 10 June 1999, at the initiative of the European Union (EU), the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe (hereinafter ‘Stability Pact’) was adopted in Cologne as part of the agenda of the German Presidency of the European Council. The Stability Pact was the first long-term structural conflict-prevention policy initiated by the EU.1 More than 40 partner countries and organizations undertook to promote stability in the region by assisting the countries of south east Europe in their efforts to foster peace, democracy, human rights and economic prosperity. As a contribution to the Stability Pact and an interim step toward EU membership, the Union set up a new generation of Stabilization and Association Agreements (SAA). These were aimed at the then five, since May 2006 six, south east European countries that so far had no contractual relationship with the EU, namely, Albania, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM), Serbia and Montenegro. The EU signed the first SAA agreement with Macedonia in April 2001. A similar agreement with Croatia was signed in October 2001, and negotiations with Albania started in late 2002.2 Respecting the criteria set by the Copenhagen European Council in 1993 and the Stabilization and Association Process (SAP) conditionality, the EU’s approach applied the principles of ‘own merits’ and ‘catch up’ introduced by the Zagreb Summit of November 2000 in parallel with the regional approach, which remains the essential element of EU policy in this geographic area. 222

The EU in South East Europe

223

Three years after the signing of the Stability Pact, the Copenhagen and Thessalonika European Council meetings in December 2002 and June 2003, respectively, confirmed the EU’s perspective of viewing the countries of the western Balkans as potential candidates for membership. In February 2003 Croatia applied for EU membership. The European Council decided on 17 December 2005 to grant the status of candidate country to the FYROM. The overall enlargement perspective for these countries was renewed at the EU–Balkan meeting in Salzburg in March 2006. Increasingly, however, discussions within the EU about future enlargements reference concerns about the Union’s own ‘absorption capacity’.3 Furthermore, the enlargement process in the region is confronted with new challenges. For example, in May 2006 the European Commission rejected talks with Serbia and Montenegro on a SAA because the Serbian government failed to arrest Ratko Mladic, whom the war crimes tribunal in The Hague had accused of being responsible for genocide in the former Yugoslavia. Negotiations over the ‘final status’ of Kosovo and the post-conflict peace building process are far from being finalized. In general, a well-known mantra regarding the EU’s foreign policy success is that it is dependent on the EU-membership prospects of the countries involved. The SAP is an interim step toward membership and a step-by step approach based on aid, trade preferences, dialogue, technical advice and, ultimately, contractual relations. The intention is to increase cooperation between the EU and the SAP countries through the assistance programme referred to as CARDS (Community Assistance for Reconstruction, Democratization and Stabilization), which will be replaced by the Pre-Accession Instrument within the new financial framework 2007–13.4 This chapter goes beyond discussion of these crucial background conditions to assess the evolution and performance of capacity building by the EU in post-conflict peace building. A key conceptual tool in this analysis is the policy of differentiation. The analysis is rooted in the idea that the EU is creating a differentiated institutional structure in order to act as a security regime. The construction of a European security regime involves differentiation of decision-making and implementation processes both within the EU as well as in connection with external actors. These processes of differentiation reinforce the quality of the EU’s status as an actor in south east Europe. Outward differentiation is connected to the EU’s nature as an agent that exports norms and democratic principles with the expectation of future stability. This process involves a strategy including both deconcentration and decentralization. Furthermore, outward differentiation relies on inward differentiation.


Inward differentiation refers to the distribution of power between various players involved in EU foreign policy decision-making, on the one hand, and in EU foreign policy implementation, on the other. One aspect of inward differentiation relates to tensions between intergovernmental and supranational characteristics of the EU system. The building of a European security regime is characterized by a linkage of outward and inward differentiation. An additional element of the EU’s efforts to build a security regime in the region is the application of conditionality. To assess the capacity of the EU in peace consolidation, the chapter first examines relevant theoretical constructs as well as past patterns of European peace consolidation.

Building security regimes: Drawing a hypothesis from the literature Various theories in the international relations (IR) field provide guidance in explaining the logic and methods of post-conflict peace building through the construction of security regimes. However, none is fully adequate to explain the emergence and functioning of these efforts in south east Europe.5 Europe’s policy of peace consolidation in south east Europe is largely in line with the tradition of ‘idealism’ in IR theory. The policy is rooted in the spirit of international liberalism as a strategy for conciliation and peace based on the precept that war is now both futile and economically wasteful. A large number of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and international governmental organizations (IGOs) are involved in post-conflict efforts to construct a durable security regime, reflecting the ‘empowerment of civil society’. These processes echo efforts after the Second World War, which considered the building of a so-called ‘security community’; such a ‘security community’ would involve groups of states that do not physically fight each other, but settle disputes in other ways.6 The question is whether the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe can be regarded as a security community in this sense.7 K. W. Deutsch’s approach is state-centric and does not consider the role of IGOs. In contrast, a ‘security regime’ is governed by rationally founded individual interests rather than by states exercising community building.8 From this viewpoint, the desire to solve urgent practical problems and to avoid a spill-over of instability from the former Yugoslavia drives the building of a security regime in south east Europe; these motivations


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led to the formulation of agreements, rules, norms and decision-making procedures under the Stability Pact in 1999. The Pact sought to encapsulate Balkan conflicts through legalizing their modes of resolution (civilization of conflict). In this way, security regimes stand above the spheres of competence of traditional states through their cooperation in a complex multi-level system of political decision-making among interlocking institutions. This emphasis on institutionalization and normative regulation of conflict draws on interdependence theory9 and neoliberal institutionalism.10 At the same time, the notion of a security regime maintains the image of the international system as a system of regulated anarchy in which a central authority is absent. The notion also rejects the idea that it is the system’s structure alone that determines the behaviour of states. The purpose of security regimes is to prevent or overcome conflict through the creation, maintenance and extension of cooperative frameworks facilitating collective action and interstate bargaining. In other words, institutions not only change the context within which states make their self-interested decisions; under a number of circumstances, they might even be necessary for the effective pursuit of a state’s policy. In contrast to interdependence theory, intergovernmentalism11 seeks to analyse the EU as the result of strategies pursued by rational governments acting on the basis of their preferences and power, especially in ‘high politics’. This is coupled with foreign policy alliances with other actors: ‘states such as the UK have favoured “Atlantic ties”; those such as France and Germany remained ambivalent about the future of CFSP [Common Foreign and Security Policy] based on pure cost-benefit analysis and concerns regarding the loss of foreign policy “neutrality” ’.12 Moreover, the transfer of sovereign power is turned into a calculated instrument that serves a specific purpose to regain governments’ capacity of control and to increase their autonomy vis-à-vis domestic actors.13 EU institutions strengthen the power of the member governments and increase the efficiency of interstate bargaining. For instance, when ethnic conflict broke out again in FYROM in 2001, no member state deviated unilaterally from the common position agreed on at the EU-level.14 From this perspective, it is argued that governments create regimes ‘to look in and consolidate democratic institutions, thereby enhancing their credibility and stability vis-à-vis non-democratic political threats’.15 Each of these theoretical approaches highlights some aspects of postconflict peace building in south east Europe. For instance, ‘crisis situations can kick-start the EU’s negotiating system and create windows of opportunity which counteract the usually protracted nature of its

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negotiations’.16 As an example, the EU managed to agree on the Stability Pact with its basic idea of ‘peace by integration’ during the 1999 Kosovo crisis. Without the Kosovo conflict, the EU would likely not have embarked on the SAAs; likewise, Bulgaria and Romania might not have been included so early in the enlargement timetable. The prospect of EU membership became the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ and a stimulus to overcoming the ‘vicious cycle’ of regional destabilization in south east Europe. ‘Peace by integration’ became the political concept underlying the construction of a security regime for south east Europe. Once the integration process had been started, additional integrative measures (spill-over effects) followed.

Security regime building in south east Europe through differentiation Differentiation in post-conflict regime building in south east Europe has been directly connected with the European integration process. However, differentiation has not involved a de-coupling of processes occurring in one state from those occurring in others. Rather, diverging security interests appeared more easily reconciled in formats of differentiated cooperation. Differentiation arguably has allowed for a flexible integration of the western Balkan countries by making the boundaries between members, non-members and not-yet-members more permeable. Consequently, the EU’s approach might appear highly fragmented in geographical, functional and institutional senses. One tool of differentiation has been the method of deconcentration of external aid and reconstruction measures through the delegations of the Commission in various countries. Delegations have held responsibility for conditional and operational tasks such as project identification and appraisal, contracting and disbursement of community funds, and project monitoring and evaluation. Where conditions have allowed, the deconcentration process has accompanied decentralization to authorities in the partner countries, making recipient governments more responsible for their own internal development. Decentralization consists of a transfer of public functions from higher tiers to lower tiers of governance. Decentralization can be administrative (transfer of civil servants and public functions to the local level), fiscal (devolution of fiscal resources and revenue generating powers), political (devolution of decision-making powers) or a mixture of these. For each SAP country the EU has offered a specific bilateral policy mix when applying the criterion of conditionality.


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The EU’s capacity for long-term conflict prevention also benefited from an institutionalist perspective rooted in the evolution of the CFSP, beginning in 1991. Likewise, the development of institutions and instruments in the context of the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) also reinforced this capacity. The ESDP emerged out of the European Security and Defence Identity (ESDI), brought up at the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) summit in Washington in April 1999 to refer to a future European pillar within the alliance. The fear of a spill-over effect from the crisis region in south east Europe, combined with Europe’s military dependence on the United States during the previous Balkan wars, prompted the EU to decide in June 1999 that ‘the Union must have the capacity for autonomous action, backed by credible military force, with the means to decide to use them, and the readiness to do so, in order to respond to international crises without prejudice to actions by NATO’.17 Following the Helsinki European Council (1999), it was agreed that the EU would develop a crisis management capability to take on the full range of Petersberg Tasks, defined as ‘humanitarian and rescue tasks, peacekeeping tasks and tasks of combat forces in crisis management, including peace-making’.18 The decision incorporated both military and civilian aspects. Crisis management essentially falls within the remit of the second pillar, the CFSP, but many of the civilian aspects of crisis management are within the first pillar (the European Community), with some even spanning the third pillar (Justice and Home Affairs). In June 2000 the Feira European Council identified four priority areas for developing civilian crisis management: police, the rule of law, civilian administration and civil protection. Concrete targets for the police were identified in Feira. In 2001 the Swedish Presidency, in cooperation with the Commission, gave considerable impetus to the conflict prevention function of the EU through the EU Programme for Conflict Prevention.19 The new machinery required for crisis management ranges from the Council’s Political and Security Committee (PSC), which is composed of ambassadorial-rank diplomats of the 27 member states, through to specialist units such as the EU Military Staff (EUMS), the Military Committee (EUMC), the Committee for the Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management (CIVCOM) and the Situation Centre. The Council Secretariat had also been reinforced by a Police Unit. In December 2001 at the Laeken summit the European Council declared the ESDP operational in the form of the so-called Rapid Reaction Mechanism (RRM) and Rapid Reaction Forces to carry out crisis-management operations over the whole range of Petersberg tasks, which have been in place since


the Treaty on the European Union (TEU), representing the principle goals for use of military forces by the EU.20 The ESDP was put to the test for the first time in the former Yugoslavia. Six countries of the western Balkans represent the closest match so far between EU aid and conflict prevention objectives, subject to the overall SAP. In December 1995, shortly before the Dayton Agreement, the EU’s first initiative aimed at stabilizing south east Europe was the Royaumont Process on Stability and Good Neighbourliness in South Eastern Europe, launched in December 1996 under the French EU Presidency with the aim to support the implementation of the Dayton Peace Agreements. It focused on promoting regional projects in the field of civil society, culture and human rights, and it was party to the so-called American initiative, i.e., the Southeast European Cooperative Initiative (SECI). The Royaumont Process is now responsible for inter-parliamentary relations under the Stability Pact. While implementation of the latter was a priority for international engagement in the former Yugoslavia, bureaucratic problems and a lack of coordination on the part of international donors and IGOs led to unsuccessful implementation of the Royaumont process. In late 1998 the Council agreed to launch a so-called common strategy within the framework of CFSP. The escalation of the Kosovo conflict in 1998–99 resulted in the loss of thousands of human lives, wide-scale injuries and hundreds of thousands of refugees and displaced persons in the region, leading NATO to expel Yugoslav forces from Kosovo. As a result, the multilateral approach of the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe was initialled and put in place in June 1999 under a German chairmanship. The role of the EU was reinforced by establishing the SAAs. After the Belgrade, Dayton and Ohrid Agreements, the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1244 created a legal framework for EU foreign policy capacity-building in south east Europe. The former European Stability Pact for Central and Eastern Europe, the Royaumont Process, and the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe represent crucial deconcentration measures in supporting the evolution of peace, stability and prosperity throughout the region, while providing a context for euroatlantic cooperation.21 The Stability Pact is based on key experiences and lessons from worldwide international crisis management. These lessons suggest that conflict prevention and peace building can be successful only if they start in parallel in three key sectors: the creation of a secure environment, the promotion of sustainable democratic systems and the promotion of economic and social well-being. Modelled on the three baskets of the former Helsinki process of 1975 – known today as the Organization


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for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) – the Stability Pact is organized around three working tables: first, Working Table I– Democratization and Human Rights; second, Working Table II– Economic Reconstruction, Co-operation and Development, and; third, Working Table III–Security Issues (with two Sub-Tables: Security and Defence, and Justice and Home Affairs).22 A Special Coordinator chairs the Regional Table, which is the general assembly of all Stability Pact participants and its decision-making body. In theory, the decisionmaking process is driven by consensus, and all beneficiary countries of the western Balkans take part on an equal footing. No doubt this structure of ‘interlocking institutions’ is, however, cumbersome. The Stability Pact was specially mandated to coordinate donor activities in the western Balkans. The EU is by far the largest single assistance donor. Since 1991, the EU has provided more than 6 billion Euros to the region through its various aid programmes, without including Romania and Bulgaria. In addition, Romania and Bulgaria together received approximately 900 million Euros per year in pre-accession aid. An amount of 4.65 billion Euros was allocated for the period 2002–06 to accompany and support the reforms of the countries concerned. Therefore, the European Commission and the World Bank were appointed to coordinate the economic assistance measures for the region. They both chair a High-Level Steering Group, in which the finance ministers of the G8 countries and the country holding the EU presidency work together with representatives of international financial institutions and with the Special Coordinator.23 The EU’s SAP within the Stability Pact created three different zones of intervention in south east Europe: the SAP region as a regional approach, the bilateral approach between the EU and SAA countries, and the Stability Pact approach between EU and non-SAA countries. In order to sign an SAA with the EU, south east Europe countries are obligated to fulfil the Copenhagen Criteria of 1993 and must promote reforms and regional cooperation among neighbouring countries in the region. The yardstick for measuring success is established within the framework of regional dimension of the Stability Pact. In order to install these capacities in the Balkans, the Pact encourages the differentiation of Euroregion-type set-ups across national borders, which can only become operational if capitals delegate some of their competencies to the lower level. The Euroregions Sofia, Nis, Skopje or OhridPrespa, involving Macedonia, Greece and Albania, are active examples within the Stability Pact framework. Within 15 months after the Stability Pact was initialled, 21 bilateral free trade agreements between seven


countries were negotiated, thereby enlarging small markets of national economies of between two million (Macedonia) and 22 million (Romania) consumers into a tariff-free market of 55 million consumers.24 In sum, security regime building in south east Europe is characterized by the geographical and functional differentiation of ownership, on the one hand, and by the implementation of a coherent deconcentration and decentralization strategy, on the other. Differentiation is therefore a promising tool to improve capacities and institutional quality in postconflict peace building. Differentiation also has involved transforming the nature of the EU itself.

Inward differentiation of the EU’s foreign policy making Outward and inward differentiations of the EU’s role as an actor in postconflict peace building efforts are integrally linked to one another. In practice, the EU is present in the Balkans.25 First, in the field of security, the EU fulfils or coordinates military and police responsibilities in Bosnia-Herzegovina (EUFOR [European Union Force] and EUPM) and in Kosovo (KFOR and UNMIK [United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo] Police). Second, in civil administration through the Office of the High Representative (OHR) in Bosnia-Herzegovina and under the auspices of UNMIK in Kosovo. From an analytical point of view, inward differentiation refers to the distribution of power between various players involved in EU foreign policy decision-making, on the one hand, and in EU foreign policy implementation, on the other. When it comes to the implementation of CFSP decisions, the EU needs to strengthen its presence in the SAP region. The question, thus, is which EU country will be most successful in pursuing national interests in post-conflict peace building in the Balkans. For instance, which country will nominate EU Special Representatives, guide CFSP and ESDP missions, and send the most NGOs and other IGOs into the region? In recent years Germany, for example, has been visibly and intensively engaged both in funding and personnel. When we consider selected moments of the EU’s decision-making processes in its policies toward south east Europe, the importance of inward differentiation becomes clear. Here we will focus on just four examples: first, the agenda shaping undertaken by the German Presidency in 1999; second, the secondment of Special Representatives to the region; third, the German EU Presidency 2007, and; fourth, Germany as G8 leader in 2007 and member of the Contact Group.


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In the first example, Germany held the rotating presidency of both the EU and G8 in 1999. At that time there was a danger that the newly established German red–green coalition would fall apart because of differences of opinion on the conflict between NATO and Yugoslav forces in 1998 and 1999: ‘Such a development would not only have weakened the international community’s response to Milosevic, but could also have triggered similar developments in other coalition governments, such as Greece and Italy, where the military action was hotly disputed’.26 On the other hand, the overlapping interests of France and Germany and the fact that the Pact was supported by a core group of EU countries were very important to the success of the Stability Pact. In addition to the role of the EU itself, countries such as Germany, France, Austria, Greece and Italy demonstrated particular commitment because of ‘their specific interests in South East European stability and security’.27 The fact that these countries had been most affected by the four wars between 1991 and 1999 in south east Europe – which had resulted in some of the worst atrocities and highest numbers of refugees and displaced persons since the Second World War – forced decision-makers to realize that there had never been a coherent, long-term policy of conflict prevention for the region. In a Common Position of 17 May 1999 the Council stated that a political solution to the Kosovo crisis must be embedded in a determined effort geared toward stabilizing the region as a whole and that therefore a Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe should be prepared.28 In the second example, as a kind of reward for the successful German Presidency, the former consultant of the German government, Bodo Hombach, was appointed as the Special Coordinator of the Stability Pact by the Council of the EU, as endorsed by the Chairman in Office of the OSCE. In 2001 the EU appointed Erhard Busek – expert on the region, Austrian Vice-Chancellor from 1991–95 and Austria’s enlargement representative from 2000–2001 – as the second Special Coordinator of the Stability Pact. Other examples of special secondment occurred at earlier stages of the conflict in the former Yugoslavia. The position of High Representative was created under the General Framework Agreement for Peace in Bosnia-Herzegovina (BiH) (Dayton Peace Agreement) of 14 December 1995 to oversee the implementation of the civilian aspects of the Peace Agreement. The mission of the High Representative of the Office of the High Representative, Christian Schwarz-Schilling, is also the EU’s Special Representative. His task is to work with the people of BiH and the international community to ensure that Bosnia-Herzegovina will become a peaceful, viable state on course to European integration.


In the third example, the Stability Pact was basically a German invention and was strongly supported by Germany. The actual conversion of the Pact into the form of the Regional Cooperation Council (RCC) under the South-East European Cooperation Process (SEECP) will commence during the German EU Presidency in 2007. In the RCC the EU will be the only non-regional member alongside the ten countries of the region, but it will also be an actor within the RCC through Bosnia, which is to be overseen by the EU Special Representative, and Kosovo, where the EU will take on monitoring tasks and administrative responsibilities. The German EU Presidency is expected to create a closer working relationship between the RCC and the EU’s SAP. In the fourth example, in 2007 a status solution for Kosovo should have been found through a process set in motion to impose an externally defined solution via the Contact Group, the UN Security Council and, ultimately, the UN General Assembly. During this time Germany occupied the EU Presidency of the Team-Presidency (Germany, Portugal, Slovenia), the G8 Chair, and it was also a member of the Contact Group as an individual state alongside the EU. Its voice therefore carried double weight. As far as the Council’s institutional structure is concerned, the process of inward differentiation is accompanied by a process of centralization in EU decision-making. Inward differentiation involves contestation over how particular actors are involved in CFSP policy-making and implementation. Currently, the role of Germany is predominant in post-conflict peace building in south east Europe. In CFSP practice, the High Representative for CFSP, Javier Solana, has also managed to use its functions extensively in close cooperation with the presidencies, in particular in managing the Macedonian crisis in 2003 or in appointing Special Representatives for the Balkans.

Conclusions This chapter has highlighted the EU’s post-conflict peace building capability under the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe after the 1999 Kosovo crisis. However, the EU’s capacity for conflict resolution faces a ‘rocky road ahead’ despite ‘the perception [that] had begun to emerge that the EU could act as a full-fledged foreign policy actor around the world’.29 The EU’s conflict resolution capability in other parts of the world is far more limited than it is in neighbouring regions like south east Europe.30 Following a decade of reactive crisis management, the Stability Pact was a turning point in the relationship between the EU and the south


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east European countries. The very proximity of the western Balkans to the EU meant that instability there posed an urgent task for the Union; in another sense this very proximity presented a crucial tool for EU efforts in building the security-regime, namely, the magnetic attraction of EU and NATO and the prospect for future membership. The EU’s ability to apply its conflict resolution formula to other areas in the world is weaker, precisely because this tool is absent. Therefore, the EU’s capacity to act as a collective actor in foreign policy is highly dependent on the contingent factors in any particular context. This chapter provides a more comprehensive and coherent model of how the EU, through differentiation, could build up its foreign and security policy capacity. The analysis suggests that building a security regime involves a linkage of outward and inward differentiation, which may contribute to foreign policy capacity building. The chapter has identified contexts that have an impact on how, and how successfully, these different ways of differentiation operate. First of all, post-conflict peace building in south east Europe has been implemented within the institutional framework of an EU cross-pillar security regime. A security regime is a set of actors (e.g., nations, international organizations and so on) interacting with one another in established patterns and through designated structures. A crisis is a situation that disrupts the regime or some part of the regime building. The structures and processes that have worked to maintain the EU security regime in south east Europe were subject to the sudden stress imposed by the 1999 Kosovo crisis. Geographical proximity or a specific geopolitical interest that would have led to potential spill-over effects into the EU’s territory was an important motivation for collective problem solving. At the beginning of the integration process actors formally agree (i.e., make contractual arrangements) to solve problems within small sector-based issue areas (i.e., low politics) in a technocratic way. As cooperative management and problem solving prove to be successful, they expand to other related functional areas and will finally spill over into genuinely political (i.e., high politics) issue areas, where they also initiate a gradual process of integration. It basically reflects the idea of ‘peace by integration’. Secondly, the building of a cross-pillar security regime is an effect of differentiation of the institutional structure of the EU. Foreign policy capacity building is pushed forward by outward and inward differentiation. Differentiation can follow an inward or an outward logic. Differentiation is the result of different plans and actions of diverse actors within the cross-pillar security regime structure, which leads to a distribution of


power among institutional actors operating in the same policy field. The impact of differentiation is dependent on the existing linkages between outward and inward differentiation. Outward differentiation is accompanied by the emergence of new policies and policy instruments. Meanwhile, differentiation contributes to the recombination of policies and policy instruments in the foreign policy sphere. Outward differentiation is dependent on deconcentration and decentralization strategies in external aid policy. Deconcentration implies the transfer of responsibility to the EU delegations in third countries, and decentralization consists of a transfer of public functions from the centre to the periphery. Thirdly, inward differentiation of decision-making procedures involves the distribution of power within the institutional setting of the EU. In post-conflict peace building in south east Europe, Germany’s role and the role of the High Representative for CFSP dominated. Fourthly, differentiation in post-conflict peace building in south east Europe does not mean decoupling the SAP countries from one another, but rather involves advancement in different group formations to approach the EU structure under and across each pillar of the EU. Differentiation also means transforming the nature of the EU itself, since the EU is also a part of the security regime. Differentiation allows for the flexible inclusion of the western Balkan states in EU structures by making boundaries between members, non-members and not-yet members more permeable in a functional sense. An accompanying upor down-grading of the membership status improves the EU’s capacities for the governance of a security regime in south east Europe. Each of these four arguments highlights factors that influence the way in which the building of a security regime has taken place in south east Europe. European security regime building provides a sound basis for studying EU post-conflict peace building in other parts of the world, despite the limitations noted above. In the case of south east Europe, the influence of an exogenous factor such as a crisis situation was critical. In this context, instead of being conceived of as a goal, the transfer of sovereign power was turned into a calculated instrument that served a specific purpose in creating a common institutional framework to improve the cooperative capacity to respond to the crisis. Drawing on the development of geographical, functional and institutional differentiation in post-conflict security regime building, four arenas of EU actorness can be sketched out. The first arena encompasses the EU; the second, the enlarged EU; the third, neighbouring countries of the enlarged EU, and; the fourth, the EU’s global role.


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Notes 1. M.-J. Calic, ‘Der Stabilitätspakt für Südosteuropa. Eine erste Bilanz’, Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, 51 (2001) pp. 13–14. 2. The conditions for the start of negotiations on such agreements are defined as follows: rule of law, democracy, compliance with human rights and minority rights, free and fair elections, full implementation of results, absence of discriminatory treatment, implementation of first steps of economic reform, proven readiness of good neighbourly relations and compliance with the Dayton Agreement. See http://stabilitypact.org. 3. J. Fischer, ‘Vom Staatenverbund zur Förderation. Gedanken über die Finalität der europäischen Integration’, http://www.uni-kassel.de/fb5/frieden/themen/ Europa/fischer-rede.html. 4. A. Bendiek and H. Whitney-Steele, The Financing of the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (Berlin: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik, 2006), (SWP Comment C 16). 5. A. Bendiek, Der Konflikt im ehemaligen Jugoslawien und die Europäische Integration. Eine Analyse ausgewählter Politikfelder (Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 2004). 6. K. W. Deutsch et al., Political Community and the North Atlantic Area. International Organization in the Light of Historical Experience (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), p. 5. 7. E. Adler and M. Barnett, eds, Security Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 3. 8. E. Adler and M. Barnett, Security Community. 9. R. O. Keohane and J. S. Nye, Power and Interdependence, II (Boston: Harper Collins, 1989). 10. R. O. Keohane, ‘Neoliberal Institutionalism. A Perspective on World Politics’, in R. O. Keohane, ed., International Institutions and State Power. Essays in International Relations Theory (Boulder: Westview Presse, 1989), pp. 1–20. 11. S. Hoffmann, ‘Obstinate or Obsolete? The Fate of the Nation-State and the Case of Western Europe’, Daedalus, 95:3 (1966) pp. 862–915; A. Moravcsik, ‘Negotiating the Single European Act. National Interests and Conventional Statecraft in the European Community’, International Organization, 45 (1991), pp. 651–688; A. Moravcsik, ‘Preferences and Power in the European Community. A Liberal Intergovernmentalist Approach’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 31:4 (1993) pp. 473–524; A. Moravcsik, ‘Taking Preferences Seriously: A Liberal Theory of International Politics’, International Organization, 51:4 (1997) pp. 513–53. 12. S. Hoffmann, ‘Towards a Common European Foreign and Security Policy’, Journal of Common Market Studies, 38:2 (2000) pp. 191–2. 13. A. Moravcsik, Why the European Community Strengthens the State: Domestic Politics and International Cooperation (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University, Centre for European Studies, 1994) (Working Papers Series, 52). 14. W. Wagner, ‘Why the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy Will Remain Intergovernmental: A Rationalist Institutional Choice Analysis of European Crisis Management Policy’, Journal of European Public Policy, 10:4 (2003) p. 583.

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15. A. Moravcsik, ‘The Origins of Human Rights Regimes: Democratic Delegation in Postwar Europe’, International Organization, 54 (2000) p. 220. 16. L. Friis and A. Murphy, Negotiating in a Time of Crisis. The European Union’s Response to the Military Conflict in Kosovo (Firenze: Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies, European University Institute, 2000) (EUI Working Paper, No. 2000/20), p. 17. 17. European Council Conclusions, Cologne (June 1999). 18. Article 17.2 of the Treaty of the European Union (Consolidated Version). 19. Original EU activities and organizations which concentrate on conflict prevention and management have evolved from a series of other activities and statements beginning in 1995 in the institutional context of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), especially within the Development Assistance Committee on conflict prevention, in which the EU played a crucial role. International Crisis Group (ICG), EU Crisis Response Capability. Institutions and Processes for Conflict Prevention and Management (Brussels: ICG, 2001), (ICG Issues Report No. 2), pp. 1–54. On the EU level, the first Common Position on ‘Conflict Prevention and Resolution in Africa’ was passed by the European Council in June 1997. Further policy papers have been launched in November 1998 as part of the Council’s reaffirmation of the ‘Role of Development Cooperation in Strengthening Peace-Building, Conflict Prevention and Resolution’. Moreover, in Nice in December 2000 the European Council agreed on ‘Improving the Coherence and Effectiveness of the European Union Action in the Field of Conflict Prevention’. Then, in April 2001, the Commission tabled a relevant Communication on ‘Conflict Prevention’, which paved the way for establishing a new policy field in CFSP. European Commission, Communication from the Commission on Conflict Prevention. Brussels, 11 April 2001. COM(2001) 211 final. 20. European Council Conclusions, Annex II, Laeken (December 2001). 21. H.-G. Ehrhart, ‘A Good Idea, But A Rocky Road Ahead: The EU and the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe’, in D. Carment and A. Schnabel, eds, Conflict Prevention: Path to Peace or Grand Illusion? (Tokyo et al.: United Nations University Press, 2003), p. 113. 22. Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe, The Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe (Brussels 2002), p. 2. 23. Ibid. 24. E. Busek, ‘Five Years of Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe: Achievements and Challenges Ahead’, speech at the London School of Economics, 8 March 2004, http://stabilitypact.org/pages/speeches/detail.asp?y=2004&p=4 (10 March 2004). 25. L. Altmann, ‘Reconstruction and Stabilization in the Western Balkans’, in V. Perthes/St. Mair, eds, European Foreign and Security Policy. Challenges and Opportunities for the German EU Presidency, RP 10 (Berlin, October 2006) pp. 25–28. 26. L. Friis and A. Murphy, Negotiating, p. 17. 27. H.-G. Ehrhart, ‘A Good Idea’, p. 124. 28. L. Friis and A. Murphy, Negotiating, pp. 1–34. 29. C. Heusgen, ‘Eine gemeinsame Außen- und Sicherheitspolitik der Europäischen Union’, Die politische Meinung, 401:4 (2003), pp. 19–26; A. J. K. Bailes,


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‘Reaktionsstreitmacht der NATO. Eine Herausforderung für Europas Eingreiftruppe’, Internationale Politik, 58:1 (2003) pp. 49–54; D. P. Calleo, ‘Balancing America: Europe’s International Duties’, Internationale Politik and Gesellschaft, 1 (2003) pp. 43–60. 30. Whether or not the EU is able to develop into a unified and effective foreign and security policy actor, especially when it comes to conflict resolution, is dependent on internal conditions, as P. Gordon pointed out in ‘Europe’s Uncommon Foreign Policy’, International Security, 22:3 (1997) pp. 74–101. S. Brüne and G. Quillien, ‘Ambitions et Réalités de la PESC en Afrique. À Travers l’Analyse des Crises à Madagascar et en Côte d’Ivoire’, Nord-Süd Aktuell, 16:4 (2002) pp. 605–12.

13 From Petersberg to Pristina: ESDP Operations in South East Europe Charles C. Pentland

Introduction In the framework of the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) the European Union (EU) has completed two operations in the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM). It is currently engaged in four more in south east Europe – two in Bosnia and Herzegovina, one in the FYROM and one on the margins of the region, the border between Moldova and Ukraine. These operations range from fairly modest exercises in police training and security-sector reform, on the one hand, to the major commitment represented by the 7000 troops of EUFOR [European Union Force], the successor to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s (NATO) Stabilization Force (SFOR) in Bosnia, on the other. Although the experience of the ESDP in south east Europe is not long, the region accounts for six of the 16 operations undertaken thus far – surely a measure of the region’s relative importance among the EU’s security priorities, as well as an indication of the new division of labour in security matters between the EU and the United States (US). It is not too early for a preliminary assessment of these operations given the likelihood that in the event of an agreement on the future status of Kosovo the EU will take charge of a police and rule-of-law mission there. Accordingly, this chapter examines the record of ESDP operations in south east Europe to date and what lessons it may hold for the various forms of mission that might be undertaken in a post-UNMIK [United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo]. It will provide first a brief overview of the ESDP – its origins, purposes and structures. Second, it will describe and assess each of the six missions undertaken in south 238

ESDP Operations in South East Europe 239

east Europe. Third, it will offer some general reflections on the experience of the ESDP in the region and some speculation as to the nature and prospects of an operation in Kosovo.

ESDP The ESDP has its roots in the Maastricht Treaty, which came into force in 1993, creating the EU and laying the foundations of its Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). The Treaty referred to ‘the eventual framing of a common defence policy, which might in time lead to common defence’. The Treaty of Amsterdam (in force since 1999) strengthened many of the provisions for the CFSP and incorporated the ‘Petersberg Tasks’ hitherto assigned to the Western European Union (WEU). These tasks, named for the site near Bonn where they had been agreed in 1992, include humanitarian and emergency rescue operations, peacekeeping and crisis management. A critical breakthrough for the ESDP came with a Franco-British initiative in December 1998. The St. Malo Joint Declaration on European Defence had its origins in a shift earlier in 1998 in the British government’s thinking on the institutional framework for a European defence. The Declaration stated the importance of achieving ‘full and rapid implementation of the Amsterdam provisions on CFSP’, including ‘the progressive framing of a common defence policy’. The EU, it said, ‘must have the capacity for autonomous action, backed up by credible military forces, the means to decide to use them, and a readiness to do so, in order to respond to international crises’. Being able to so decide and act where NATO as a whole might not be engaged would require the EU to have its own means of intelligence, analysis and planning, as well as access to the assets and capabilities of the WEU and NATO where appropriate.1 At its Cologne European Council in June 1999 the EU formally adopted the St. Malo objectives and sketched in their logistical and institutional requirements. In December the Helsinki European Council adopted the ‘Headline Goals’ of a European intervention force of up to 60,000 troops on 60-day readiness, to be in place by 2003. Over the next two years the new EU institutional structure, including a political and security committee, a military committee and a military staff, was established, not without controversy over how autonomous it should be (vis-à-vis NATO) with respect to objectives, planning, institutions and resources. Issues of resources were particularly fraught: under what conditions could the EU make use of NATO assets, and how much were the Europeans prepared to invest in the capabilities they might need?


By the middle of 2003 most of these issues had been settled. EU-NATO consultative mechanisms were in place, as well as a joint declaration on cooperation in strategic crisis management. In March 2003 the ‘Berlin Plus’ arrangements were agreed, whereby the EU can have ready access ‘to the collective assets and capabilities of the Alliance, for operations in which the Alliance as a whole is not engaged militarily’. Berlin Plus embraces cooperation in planning and command of operations, as well as ‘the presumption of availability’ to the EU of a specified range of NATO assets.2 Early on it was recognized that the Petersberg Tasks potentially reached beyond the military. In 2000 the EU established a Committee on the Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management and identified four key areas for civilian ESDP missions: police training, rule of law (justice systems), civilian administration and civil protection. It emulated the military side in setting ‘Headline Goals’ for police officers to be available for many of these tasks.3 Thus within five years of the St. Malo declaration the EU had – in the face of considerable scepticism and some outright opposition – gone a long way to establishing a credible presence in matters of security and defence. In fact, by the end of March 2003 it had already launched its first two ESDP missions – one civilian and one military. Both of them, as it happened, were in south east Europe.

ESDP missions in south east Europe To date there have been six ESDP missions in south east Europe, five of them in the western Balkans and one on the eastern border of Moldova. Of the five in the western Balkans, three have been in the FYROM – one military mission and two civilian police operations. The other two, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, consist of one police mission – recently extended to the end of 2007 – and a major military peace operation. In Moldova the EU is conducting a civilian border assistance mission. This section will provide a brief account of each. The former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia From the outbreak of the Yugoslav wars in 1991 observers predicted that it was only a matter of time before Macedonia went up in flames as had three of its sister republics. In fact, from the time it declared its independence in 1992 the FYROM has been a showcase for judicious international intervention. While Croatia and Bosnia burned, UNPROFOR [United Nations Protection Force] kept a wary eye on Macedonia as well. After the signing of the Dayton Accords, while NATO forces secured


Bosnia, a new United Nations (UN) preventive deployment force (UNPREDEP) helped to deter potential ethnic violence between Macedonia’s Slavic majority and Albanian minority. It was assisted in this by the fact that – again, contrary to many expectations – neighbouring Kosovo, with its ethnic Albanian majority, and Albania proper had stayed relatively quiet through the worst of the Bosnian war. Two developments in the wake of the Dayton Accords changed the FYROM’s immediate environment, with direct impact on its domestic stability: first, the breakdown in domestic order in Albania in 1997 and, second, NATO’s war on Serbia over Kosovo in the spring of 1999. The contiguity of the FYROM’s Albanian regions with both Albania and Kosovo and the porosity of those borders led to an influx of weapons and fighters and the radicalization of Macedonia’s Albanians, with their many grievances over language rights, education and economic opportunity. Rapid escalation in the number, scope and intensity of violent incidents along the ethnic fault lines and in disputed towns in western Macedonia led the government in Skopje and many in the international community to believe that the long-avoided civil war might at last be imminent. At the same time a Chinese veto in the UN Security Council in February 1999 had prevented the renewal of UNPREDEP’s mandate. Decisive diplomatic intervention by the UN and the EU led to a negotiated Framework Agreement between the government and the Albanian leadership, signed at Ohrid in August 2001. The agreement called for a NATO force to provide a secure environment for the implementation of its provisions. Operation Amber Fox began in September under German command, with a complement of about 1000 troops. It was succeeded in December 2002 by Operation Allied Harmony, with a reduced force complement and a mandate to support the peace monitors and advise the government on security sector issues. The Ohrid Agreement held, the government undertook a number of political and economic reforms, and the NATO force found itself with relatively little to do. By the end of 2002, while some narrow, specific security issues persisted, it seemed that the international military presence could safely be drawn down. For the EU the timing was opportune. The institutional structure of the ESDP was in place, and the member states had tasked themselves with meeting the Helsinki ‘Headline Goals’ by the end of 2003. They had agreed to undertake a civilian police-training operation in Bosnia, starting on 1 January 2003 (see below). Macedonia now provided a promising venue for the first ESDP military mission. The EU’s interventionary means – and its initial ambitions – might still be modest, but it was important to demonstrate that the ESDP was more than just another


set of institutions, that it could marshal resources and put boots on the ground. In early 2003, then, the government in Skopje agreed to a transfer of responsibility from NATO to the EU for keeping the civil peace. Like its predecessor, the EU mission – Operation Concordia – drew its authority from UN Security Council Resolution 1371.4 It was the first invocation of the recently agreed Berlin Plus arrangement, whereby the EU can avail itself of NATO assets both institutional and material. The EU’s planning and operational headquarters was set up at SHAPE [Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe] in Mons, Belgium, and, as Berlin Plus envisaged, the Deputy SACEUR [The Supreme Allied Commander Europe] , a German admiral at the time, was appointed operation commander. France agreed to serve as the ‘framework’ (i.e., lead) nation, with a French general taking initial command of the forces on the ground. With a complement of just over 350 troops – about 300 from 13 EU members, with France providing the largest single contingent – Concordia was of modest scale but sufficient to keep the peace in the border areas of western Macedonia. Expectations, too, were fairly modest since the worst of the ethnic tension seemed to have dissipated. The forces were lightly armed, with restrictive rules of engagement, and the mandate was initially set for six months from 31 March, although subsequently extended to December 2003. As a first test of Berlin Plus, Concordia was judged a success both by NATO and the EU. Although there were some last-minute adjustments and improvisations, the command arrangements worked well, to some extent because the operation inherited much of what NATO had already set up both at SHAPE and in Macedonia. On the ground the situation stayed calm to the point that there was really no argument over terminating the military phase of things in December. There was, however, an acknowledged need for a different form of international presence, first, to reform the national police and bring them up to European standards and, second, to assist the government in dealing with a serious surge in organized crime with trans-national ties. At the request of the Macedonian government and with the Bosnian precedent in mind the EU Council agreed in December 2003 on another Joint Action5 to set up a two-year police support mission. EUPOL Proxima, consisting of about 200 police force monitors and advisors from EU member states, began operations in December 2003, with the termination of Concordia. As in the Bosnian case, the role of the EU police was not, for the most part, to take on operational tasks, but to work with Macedonian officers and to impart to them prevailing norms and prac-


tices of EU policing. The concern with organized crime did, however, necessarily draw the EU officers into cooperation on operational matters. Both sets of tasks had to do partly with the vestiges of the civil unrest in the FYROM; they also had to do partly with the EU’s aim of moving the country closer to association and eventual membership.6 Proxima wound up, as intended, in December 2005. At the request of the government, however, the EU agreed to taper down its police operations by conducting a reduced version of the mission for a further six months under the designation EUPAT, or EU police advisory team.7 Officially, the role of the 30 officers was to continue to monitor and mentor the Macedonian police in such matters as maintaining public peace and order, building public confidence in the local police, reform of the Ministry of the Interior, establishment of a civilian border police (in the context of moving toward EU standards of border management) and measures to improve accountability, reduce corruption and fight organized crime. In addition, EUPAT would bridge the gap to the expected start-up of a police-advisory project funded by CARDS, the EU’s financial instrument for the western Balkans. It is not clear why, given the continuity of objectives, this mission was designated as separate from its predecessor rather than as its scaled-down terminal phase. Although it has undoubtedly played a constructive role, it hardly seems to have merited its distinct formal status. Bosnia and Herzegovina As in the case of the FYROM, the two ESDP missions in Bosnia are the direct descendants of missions first established by the UN and NATO. Like their Macedonian counterparts, they have benefited from lessons learned by their predecessors and inherited institutional practices, social capital and other assets developed over several years. They are also perceived as the follow-up and tail-end phases of larger and more robust international missions. The European Union Police Mission (EUPM), a civilian crisis management operation, was the first mission of any kind established under the ESDP. Authorized by UN Security Council Resolution 1396 and based on an EU Council Joint Action of 11 March 2002, the EUPM was launched on 1 January 2003.8 It was designed to take over from the International Police Task Force (IPTF) set up by the Dayton Accords. The IPTF was a component of the UN Mission for Bosnia and Herzegovina, whose mandate was terminated at the end of 2002. The breakdown in public order that accompanied the four-year civil conflict in Bosnia was manifested in the ethnicization of policing from


the municipal up to the national level, accompanied by corruption and endemic human-rights abuses. Essential to national reconstruction in the first instance and to preparation for closer integration into European institutions in the longer run would therefore be a root-and-branch reform of the administration and delivery of policing. Annex 11 of the Dayton Accords provided for an international police operation under UN auspices to monitor, observe and inspect law enforcement activities and facilities, advise and train personnel, facilitate policing, assess and advise on threats to public order, advise government on the organization of law enforcement, and accompany personnel as they carried out their duties. The IPTF was to help provide a secure environment in Bosnia not by direct application of its own forces, but by giving advice and assistance to aid in the reform of local law enforcement. The agreement gave the IPTF considerable power within the limits of its mandate while warning the Bosnian signatories not to impede its work.9 The IPTF Commissioner in charge of the mission was to coordinate with and ‘receive guidance from’ the High Representative in charge of the overall international presence in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but he reported through the UN Secretary General to the Security Council. At the height of the mission there were about 2000 civilian police personnel in Sarajevo and in various other centres around the country. The IPTF is generally acknowledged to have been one of the more successful components of the international community’s post-war reconstruction work. That said, when the UN decided to terminate UNMIBH, and with it the IPTF, Bosnia’s law-enforcement system was still well short of European standards. As it would shortly in Macedonia, the EU saw this as an opportunity to engage the fledgling ESDP in a situation which, while not without challenges, provided a legacy of established practices and achievements on which to build. Accordingly, the EUPM in effect adopted most of its predecessor’s objectives: to preserve the levels of institutional and personal proficiency achieved under the IPTF’s tutelage; to monitor, mentor and inspect Bosnian policing at the administrative and operational levels; to strengthen professionalism within the ministries and among senior officers; and to monitor ‘the exercise of appropriate political control’ over the police. To these ends it adopted three ‘strategic priorities’: operational advice and support to local police in fighting organized crime; monitoring of police conduct and accountability; and support to police restructuring. The long-term aim was ‘to establish in BiH a sustainable, professional and multiethnic police service operating in accordance with the best European and international standards’. Like the IPTF, it was not itself to have executive powers or deploy an armed component.10


Although it was to have a smaller complement – just over 500 police officers (more than 80 per cent from EU countries) and 400 support staff –, the EUPM’s structure and deployment pattern closely followed that of the IPTF. Its mandate, originally for three years, has been extended for two more years, to the end of 2007.11 Following the IPTF model, the Commissioner in charge on the ground reports through the High Representative to Secretary General Javier Solana and, ultimately, to the EU Political and Security Committee. From the outset the EUPM was given two strategic tasks. The first was to continue the IPTF’s work in implementing the provisions of the Dayton Accords with respect to institution building, democratization and the rule of law in Bosnia. In addition, unlike its predecessor the EUPM was to be an important part of the EU’s Stabilization and Association Process (SAP), whereby Bosnia was to be made ready for gradual integration into the European institutions. Its record must therefore be assessed against both of those standards. An overall assessment is, however, elusive at this stage. The IPTF was there for seven years, while the EUPM is just over three years old. There has been progress on both fronts, but how much can be credited to the latter? There is, as yet, not much literature to guide us on that.12 When the Bosnian war concluded in late 1995 it was clear that to provide the secure environment required for reconstruction a massive and robust international military presence would be needed. Accordingly, Dayton called for an initial insertion of 60,000 troops under NATO command. While some were European and Canadian – many of them re-hatted veterans of the maligned UNPROFOR – the Implementation Force (IFOR) had a notably strong American contingent, as well as contributions from non-NATO and even non-European countries. Its successor, the Stabilization Force (SFOR) which took over at the end of 1996, continued that pattern, although with a reduced complement of 32,000 troops. Over its eight-year history SFOR was able to reduce that number gradually to 12,000. Based on UN Security Council Resolution 1031, NATO’s operations in Bosnia had as their primary mission to implement the military aspects of the Dayton Accords as set out in Annex 1A. At the outset IFOR faced a daunting list of tasks: to secure and maintain the cessation of hostilities; to separate the armed forces of the Bosniac-Croat Federation and the Republika Srpska; to oversee the transfer of land between the two newly formed ‘entities’; and to move the armies’ personnel and heavy weapons into approved and controlled sites. In fact, IFOR managed to accomplish all these tasks by mid-year. From then on its main job was to patrol the

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demilitarized inter-entity boundary and inspect the cantonment sites containing heavy weapons and other equipment. In carrying out these tasks it also re-opened roads and railways, restored bridges, and brought Sarajevo airport back to full operation. IFOR’s mandate was for one year. While it had accomplished a great deal, it was clear in late 1996 that a follow-on operation would be necessary to maintain the secure environment established by IFOR by deterring or preventing a resumption of hostilities or new threats to the peace, promoting a climate in which the peace process could continue, and providing support to civilian organizations. The last of these included working with the IPTF and EUPM and providing a secure environment for UNHCR in assisting refugee returns and for the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) in overseeing a series of elections. Authorized by a new UN Security Council resolution (1088), SFOR had the same command structure as its predecessor, with the force commander under Allied Forces Southern Europe reporting to SACEUR and ultimately responsible to NATO’s North Atlantic Council. SFOR inherited the geographic areas of command into which IFOR had divided Bosnia and, like IFOR, included contingents from non-NATO countries such as Russia. Over its eight year span SFOR went through a number of modifications to its structures and activities, as well as a series of reductions in its force complement. By 2004 a number of considerations converged to compel a bigger change. First, with Bosnia having achieved a degree of political stability and taken the first steps on the long road to EU accession and with reform well along in the security sector, the consensus in the international community was that the security problem was much diminished. Second, with the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the US was anxious to extract itself from the Balkans and to take NATO ‘global’. Third, the EU was ready and willing to charge the ESDP with a task which, while more demanding than the others, had its foundations already laid and was in a region with a declared ‘European perspective’. At the June 2004 NATO summit in Istanbul the alliance therefore agreed to terminate SFOR at the end of the year. In November the UN Security Council passed Resolution 1575, authorizing the EU to launch a follow-up mission. On 25 November the EU Council agreed on a Joint Action to establish EUFOR under the rubric of Operation Althea, which took effect in December.13 EUFOR’s objectives are the same as SFOR’s – essentially, to ensure the implementation of the security provisions in Annexes 1A and 2 of the Dayton Accords. Being an EU mission, however, it is necessarily


also closely associated with the broader, long-term objective of bringing Bosnia and its western-Balkan neighbours into the EU. As was the case with Concordia, the EU Force Commander reports to Deputy SACEUR in Mons. Overall decision-making authority lies with the EU Council, while under it the Political and Security Committee exercises day-to-day political control and strategic direction and the EU Military Committee, in turn, oversees the military side of operations. Like Concordia, Althea is a Berlin Plus mission, making use of NATO institutions and assets and consulting closely with the alliance at all levels both in Brussels and in the field (where NATO retains a small delegation). Like its two NATO predecessors, finally, EUFOR includes contingents from non-NATO and non-EU countries, although most of the 7000 troops are contributed by the United Kingdom, Germany and the other larger EU member states. Althea has been up and running for about 18 months. To date it has faced no serious challenges to its authority or its capacities. It has continued, albeit on a lesser scale, SFOR’s practice of assisting with refugee returns (although that process is winding down), with electoral supervision, with policing and security sector reform and, discreetly, with the hunt for accused war criminals. It is still early to make an overall assessment, but there is general satisfaction in Brussels that this much more ambitious undertaking has so far held its own.14 The Moldova–Ukraine border Moldova is on the margins of south east Europe. Its relationship with Brussels is different from that of the western Balkan states, as it falls under the EU’s European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) along with Ukraine, Belarus, the south Caucasus and the non-European states of the Mediterranean basin. It has a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement with the EU, in force since 1998, and is working on an ENP Action Plan to bring its political, judicial and economic systems into line with EU norms and practices. Unlike the Balkan states Moldova has not yet been offered the prospect of membership in the EU. Its main links to that region are its ethnic kinship and close historical ties to Romania, which joined the EU in 2007, and its participation in the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe. Since independence in 1991 Moldova has been troubled. The poorest country in Europe, it has been plagued by political instability, porous borders, corruption and organized crime. At the time of independence civil conflict broke out as a slice of territory east of the Dniester River mostly populated by ethnic Russians and Ukrainians opted to secede.

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Ostensibly as peacekeepers, Russian forces moved in, effectively propping up the breakaway regime, and Transnistria joined the dubious fraternity of ‘frozen conflicts’ in the Black Sea area. The territory became a conduit for illegal flows of drugs, weapons, money and human beings and a haven for organized crime. The 1100 Russian troops, with their huge caches of arms and ammunition, stayed on despite an agreement on withdrawal reached at the 1999 OSCE summit in Istanbul. Since the late 1990s multilateral diplomacy has been seeking an accommodation between the Moldovan government in Chisinau and the secessionist regime in Tiraspol. The mediating group includes representatives of the US, the OSCE, Russia, Ukraine and, as a recent addition, the EU. A Russian initiative in 2003 – rejected by the US, EU and Moldova – proposed to settle the conflict by granting Transnistria a veto in a Moldovan federation and by extending the Russian military presence to 2020. Progress, it is fair to say, has been glacial. The central issue is, of course, the unity of Moldova. In addition, however, the existence of a border between Moldova and Ukraine, which has for many years not been under the effective control of the government in Chisinau, has come to constitute a wider regional problem. An opportunity to regulate it came with the election of Viktor Yushchenko as president of Ukraine in December 2004. Yushchenko looked less kindly than his predecessor on the secessionist regime and Russia’s support of it. In addition, his European and World Trade Organization (WTO) aspirations gave him an incentive to demonstrate that Ukraine’s management of its borders was up to EU standards. In June 2005 Yushchenko and the Moldovan president Vladimir Voronin (a formerly pro-Russian communist freshly re-elected with a new western orientation) sent a joint letter to the EU requesting assistance in capacity building for border management. While the letter framed the issue in terms of the whole Ukraine–Moldova frontier, its real focus was on that section controlled by Tiraspol. For that part the letter requested ‘an international customs control arrangement and an effective border monitoring mechanism’. In October a Memorandum of Understanding was signed and, based on a Joint Action of 7 November, the EU Border Assistance Mission in Moldova and Ukraine began operating in December 2005. With its headquarters in Odessa, five field offices and a staff of 120, it has an initial two-year mandate. Its task is to train and advise Moldovan and Ukrainian customs officials in order to improve surveillance and control of the border.15 Like four of the five missions in the western Balkans, this is a modest operation. Unlike them, it has not had the legacy of a previous operation


to work with. Increasingly, however, it has become embedded in broader issues affecting Moldova, Ukraine and the broader south east European region. In March of 2006, as a direct consequence of the border mission’s activities, Ukraine began refusing entry to trucks from Transnistria which lacked Moldovan customs documents. These trucks carrying goods to Odessa and other Ukrainian ports for shipping – principally to Russia – are virtually the sole means of export for steel and textiles manufactured in the territory, as well as a suspected conduit for contraband. For Kyiv this move was a demonstration both of solidarity with Chisinau and of its European bona fides and was instantly recognized as such and supported by the EU. In Tiraspol and Moscow it was seen as a hostile act – an economic blockade – potentially fatal to the secessionist regime. Tiraspol’s response was to stop Ukrainian trucks at its border and to threaten withdrawal from the multilateral negotiations. Russian officials commented darkly about possible longer-term consequences but have done little beyond protesting.16 The EU border mission and Ukraine’s adoption of the new customs rules must be seen in the context of the ENP as it applies to its south eastern frontier. First, Romania’s accession in 2007 gives a new urgency to normalizing the situation in Moldova. Second, it will be difficult for Moldova and Ukraine to complete their ENP Action Plans and move on to closer integration with the EU with their border issues unresolved and with illegal trade and organized crime continuing unabated. Third, their success in this respect would have a significant impact in the region. A more prosperous Moldova with open trade access to the EU would likely be more attractive to the ‘entrepreneurs’ of Transnistria than their present informal arrangements, probably sealing the fate of separatism. And reducing the illegal flow of drugs, weapons and people from the Black Sea westward would greatly benefit the stabilization and Europeanization of the Balkans. The EU border mission is thus a modest operation with major implications for the longer term.17

Reflections: The EU and security in south east Europe The ESDP has been in business now for just over four years. This brief span of time should induce caution in drawing too many firm conclusions from the experience of its six operations in south east Europe. They have drawn some praise, but much of that has been from those on the inside with a stake in the future of the ESDP. They have attracted little criticism, largely because – perhaps with the exception of Althea – they have been charged with narrowly defined tasks, vested


with modest resources and deployed with little fanfare. Without rushing to a global judgment on these six missions, it is possible, however, to make some preliminary observations about their meaning for the emergence of the EU as a provider of security and for the prospects of the south east European region. The first observation is that, as in the real estate business, location matters. The EU has put more significant resources for a longer time into these six missions in south east Europe than it has into the ten others. Admittedly, Althea by itself accounts for much of this, but both the EUPM and Concordia also represent longer and weightier commitments than any outside Europe. This reflects, in part, the particular demands of the western Balkan cases, but also the fact that, with the attention of the US and NATO turning elsewhere, the EU has become by default the prime security provider for Europe and its immediate neighbourhood. That the focus is on south east Europe is also understandable, as well as historically appropriate. There are, of course, other troubled places or potential flashpoints around Europe’s fringes, notably in Belarus and the south Caucasus (where there is in fact one ESDP operation in place – a rule-of-law mission in Georgia). But these cases are thought to be either intractable or unsuited at present for ESDP operations – as distinct from other forms of diplomacy conducted under the CFSP. South east Europe, on the other hand, is where the EU overreached itself in the early 1990s (the fiasco of ‘the hour of Europe’), found itself on the margins of Dayton in 1995, and played second fiddle to the US in the 1999 Kosovo campaign. This decade of compounded humiliation drove the Europeans to make the ESDP real. That this new political will expressed itself primarily in the western Balkans represents something of an exercise in redemption. For the longer run the question is whether this focus on Europe’s peripheries is a sustainable agenda for the ESDP. It is not wildly optimistic to assume that in a few years all of those areas will be drawn into the EU’s various ‘soft-power’ security frameworks: the Stability Pact and the SAPs of south east Europe, the ENP for the former Soviet states of eastern Europe and the Caucasus and, for some countries if not all, the accession process. At that point, like NATO before it, the ESDP may have to go out of area or go out of business – the difference being that it has already ventured cautiously into Africa, the Middle East and elsewhere. The second general observation has to do with timing. As we have seen, every European mission, with the exception of the border operation in Moldova, followed on the heels of a larger international operation


mounted by the UN or NATO. Given the respective capabilities of these security organizations at the time of the Bosnian and Macedonian crises and the need for the ESDP to start slowly and find its feet, this sequencing was entirely appropriate – indeed opportune – for the EU. But it does mean that we should be cautious about what successes we attribute to it, and what to its predecessors. And it means that the ESDP remains untested in the difficult business of establishing a peace operation in the immediate aftermath of war where no other body has gone before it. The EU is now more likely to have to face that scenario somewhere outside Europe. It is noteworthy that while EU member-states have sent forces to southern Lebanon, they have not done so under ESDP auspices. The third observation concerns objectives. All the ESDP missions have had well-defined short- to medium-term aims, in the five Balkan cases copied almost word-for-word from the mandates of their predecessors. These objectives have ranged from broad – providing a secure environment (Concordia, Althea) – to relatively narrow – training and monitoring police or customs officials. Providing security can thus mean anything from deterring and defending against outbreaks of violence using the instruments of hard power to instilling EU norms and practices into institutions for public order and the people who work for them. For the six European missions, however, there is also a set of objectives not relevant for the rest. While it may serve a longer-term European and international interest in peace, stability or development, an ESDP mission in Africa or the Middle East may well be a brief one-off for the EU, with no likelihood of follow-up. Indeed, the expectation may be either that the immediate problem will have been resolved (as in Aceh or the border mission in Gaza) or that a more substantial multilateral mission will have to take over at some point (as in Darfur or the Democratic Republic of Congo [DRC]). In either case the EU’s horizons may be short. The European missions, on the other hand, are the security side of a complex of relationships that is expected to become denser and closer over time. They must therefore be compatible with the broader objectives that the EU has for the country involved and for the whole region: the securing of democracy, human rights, market economies and peaceful inter-state relations – all part of a process of closer integration with the EU. In the six operations to date the arrangements for reporting and consultation between the ESDP command and the other elements of the international presence seem to have worked well to smooth out differences of views or priorities. In principle, there should not be many, but it is conceivable that in a more turbulent security environment the

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immediate imperatives of the ESDP forces might not always square with the aims of other EU institutions on the ground. A fourth observation has to do with the suite of ESDP missions that the EU has deployed thus far in south east Europe. In a short time the EU has acquired experience in running military operations under the Berlin Plus arrangements, police assistance and training, and a border assistance mission starting from scratch. It has run operations of these three kinds elsewhere as well, along with rule-of-law missions in Georgia and Iraq, monitoring missions in Aceh and the DRC, and a mission in support of the African Union in Darfur.18 Altogether, then, the EU has become well-versed in at least a half-dozen different forms of security operation falling under the rubric of the Petersberg Tasks. Potentially, this makes it an increasingly attractive security provider in situations around the globe where the UN, NATO or unilateral intervention might be unavailable or inappropriate. On the other hand, while the EU may be equipped to mount many modest policing, rule-of-law, border assistance and monitoring missions, its capacity for more demanding and robust military actions must remain in doubt. The missions in Macedonia and Bosnia, while successful in their own terms, do not constitute an adequate test; nor does the brief operation Artemis, conducted three years ago in the eastern DRC. This is not to denigrate those efforts. It is simply to suggest that the EU will have to navigate carefully between prudently sticking to relatively safe and modest missions and meeting the demands of the world to use its new assets in bolder and more consequential ways. This brings us nicely to the last observation, which concerns resources. When the ESDP was launched in 1998 sceptics suggested it would flounder on European governments’ notorious unwillingness or inability to invest in the military assets needed to make it work. Their doubts seemed to be confirmed when the EU member states admitted they would not achieve all the Helsinki ‘Headline Goals’ by the 2003 deadline. But they have, in fact, come a long way, creating a European Defence Agency to promote defence production and rationalize Europe’s spending, as well as launching the first of a dozen 1500-personnel battle groups as part of a rapid-reaction capability.19 Although national defence budgets have not increased, spending is more focused, and forces are modernizing. Less is heard now from across the Atlantic about Europe ‘free-riding’ in matters of security. That said, the EU does not command resources sufficient to sustain an ESDP military operation much beyond that presently in Bosnia. It has no military assets of its own and will have to continue relying on


NATO assets (most of which are, in fact, American) for any mission. As we have seen, Berlin Plus has worked surprisingly smoothly so far. But it is not to be taken for granted: if the US and NATO find themselves stretched, or if a proposed future ESDP military mission does not find favour in Washington, the cooperative mechanisms between the EU and NATO may break down. The ESDP may be doing quietly useful security work with its many small civilian missions, but its reliability and credibility will remain in question until the EU states generate and control the collective military means to match their new ambitions as providers of security.

Conclusion The EU can take some satisfaction in the progress of the ESDP. In a few years it has gone from a set of Headline Goals and some new institutions to a foreign policy instrument with serious assets and a respectable track-record. These achievements are the result of both prudence and creative opportunism. In contrast to the EU’s early experience in the Balkans the emphasis has been on modest projects and the gradual accumulation of assets, experience and credibility. By and large the strategy has worked. But it owes much to the circumstances of post-Dayton south east Europe, with Bosnia exhausted and largely pacified, the FYROM seemingly past its critical point, and most of the other states at various stages on the road to Brussels. The one exception is, of course, Serbia. Its domestic politics and the issue of Kosovo’s final status will be critical for the prospects of the whole region. At this point it is impossible to know how the fitful negotiations over final status will fare.20 It has, however, already been suggested that the EU might emerge as the chief provider of security for the territory in the event of an agreement. This might prove the biggest test so far for the ESDP. It would be consistent with the logic of the EU’s strategy for south east Europe and with the pattern we have observed in the FYROM and Bosnia that at some point – although not immediately – an EU force take over the role presently played by the NATO-led Kosovo Force (KFOR). There is likely to be pressure from various quarters for the EU to do so – not least from the US, anxious to liberate itself and NATO for service farther afield.21 This scenario assumes either that, as a result of an agreement, the security climate is markedly improved, or that the EU members can muster the political will to assemble a force whose strength and rules of engagement approximate those of KFOR. In the first case we might


expect the EU to focus on police monitoring and training, and possibly rule-of-law missions. That is clearly its preference. But if the settlement is precarious and requires a more robust presence, will the ESDP be up to it, or would KFOR simply have to stay on? This would be new territory – literally and figuratively. There will be those in Europe and elsewhere who will ask a local variant of Madeleine Albright’s famous question to the US military – what is the point of having this fine instrument if we don’t use it? It is becoming a fair question to ask of the ESDP. The tepid response of many European governments to the call for peacekeeping forces for southern Lebanon suggests that the EU is not yet ready to face it.

Notes 1. Joint Declaration Issued at the British-French Summit, Saint-Malo, France, 3–4 December 1998. 2. A concise account of the Berlin Plus agreements can be found in Chapter 28 of the NATO Handbook (Brussels: NATO Public Diplomacy Division, 2006), pp. 248–9. 3. For a good overview, see A. Nowak, ‘Civilian Crisis management within ESDP’, in A. Nowak ed., Civilian Crisis Management: The EU Way. Chaillot Paper, 90 (June 2006), pp. 15–37. 4. EU authorization was in Council Joint Action 2003/92/CFSP (27 January 2003). 5. Council Joint Action 2003/681/CFSP (15 December 2003). 6. For an assessment of Proxima, see I. Ioannides, ‘EU Police Mission Proxima: Testing the “European” Approach to Building Peace’, in Nowak, op. cit., pp. 69–86. 7. Council Joint Action 2005/826/CFSP (24 November 2005). 8. For the text, see Council Joint Action 2002/210/CFSP (11 March 2002). 9. For details, see General Framework Agreement for Peace in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Paris, December 1995, Annex 11. 10. See EU Council Conclusions 18–19 February 2002, ‘International Police Task Force Follow-On’, 6247/02 (Presse 30 – G). 11. Council Joint Action 2005/824/CFSP (24 November 2005). 12. But see Nowak, ‘Civilian Crisis Management’, pp. 24–8. 13. Council Joint Action 2004/803/CFSP (25 November 2004). 14. For brief assessments of this and other ESDP missions in a broader context see P. Cornish and G. Edwards, ‘The Strategic Culture of the European Union: A Progress Report’, International Affairs, 81:4 (2005) pp. 807–10. 15. European Union Factsheet, EU Border Mission to Moldova and Ukraine, December 2005; Council Joint Action 2005/776/CFSP (7 November 2005). 16. J. Maksymiuk, ‘Ukraine: Kyiv Tightens Customs Controls on Transdniester’, RFE/RL Feature Article (9 March 2006). 17. N. Popescu, ‘Moldova and the EU: A Wind of Change’, Transitions Online (2 March 2005).

ESDP Operations in South East Europe 255 18. For brief summaries of these missions, see G. Grevi, D. Lynch and A. Missiroli, ESDP Operations (Paris: Institute for Strategic Studies, 2006). 19. Cornish and Edwards, ‘Strategic Culture’, pp. 802–6. 20. For speculation, see C. Kupchan, ‘Independence for Kosovo’, Foreign Affairs 84:6 (2005) pp. 14–20; M. Glenny, ‘The Kosovo Question and Regional Stability’, in J. Batt, ed., The Western Balkans: Moving On. Chaillot Paper, 70 (October 2004), pp. 87–97; and D. Serwer and Y. Bajraktari, ‘Kosovo: Ethnic Nationalism at its Territorial Worst’, Special Report, 172 (Washington: US Institute of Peace, 2006). 21. I. Daalder and J. Goldgeier, ‘Global NATO’, Foreign Affairs, 85:5 (2006) pp. 105–14.

Conclusion Joan DeBardeleben

The 2004 and 2007 enlargements not only resulted in new European neighbours for the EU but also produced new dynamics in neighbourhood relations. From the early l990s until 2004, enlargement itself was the EU’s main foreign policy approach in dealing with the postcommunist world, a tool for spreading European norms and governance relations beyond its eastern perimeter. In the aftermath of the big expansion of 2004, the EU sought to fashion a new policy, the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP), which would achieve these same goals without the enlargement prospect being clearly articulated. Only in its relations with the western Balkan countries was membership clearly on the agenda, at an undefined time in the future. EU enlargement has brought contradictory effects on relations with European neighbours. On the one hand, economic linkages have increased dramatically; on the other hand political relationships have become more complicated. In the economic sphere, for example, the EU’s exports to Russia increased over three-fold between 2000 and 2006, while imports from Russia more than doubled. The expansion of trade was not only due to the addition of eight new member states in central and eastern Europe (traditional trade partners of Russia), but also involved large increases for countries of the EU-15 such as Germany, France, and Italy. While energy is a major import commodity from Russia for the EU, trade in services and manufactured goods has also seen steady increases on both the import and export sides. Likewise, foreign investment has seen marked increases, both in the eastward and westward directions.1 Ukraine has also seen a clear upward trend in trade with the EU, in part due to EU enlargement and in part preceding it, even though this still represents a small proportion of the EU’s external trade and is characterized by a trade imbalance in the EU’s favour. 256

Conclusion 257

Despite accelerating economic interaction, the inclusion of ten new central and east European countries in the EU has complicated political relationships between the EU and the European ‘outsiders’, also in ways the ENP did not anticipate, making it more difficult for the ENP to achieve the goals set out for it. First, Russia opted out of the approach, leading to the establishment of a unique relationship defined as a ‘strategic partnership’ between the EU and Russia. Second, the EU’s normative authority in relation to its neighbours became more difficult to realize, as the absence of the accession promise removed a powerful incentive to engender compliance. Finally, in important regards the relationship with neighbours became ‘securitized’, with concerns about the risk of security ‘leakage’ through the new external borders into the EU, involving non-traditional threats such illegal migration, drug trade, human trafficking and terrorism. But additional factors also complicate the EU’s efforts to achieve the goal of extending well-being, security, and peace beyond its new eastern border. First, some of the ‘frozen’ conflicts in adjacent or nearby countries such as Moldova, Georgia, and Serbia seem resistant to resolution, requiring a rethinking of the type of diplomacy needed to engage other actors in addressing them since the EU’s capacity to resolve these issues alone seems limited. The involvement of NATO in some of these arenas, particularly Georgia, served only to exacerbate the tensions between the West and Russia, leading to a hardening of positions and bases of political division in Europe. Second, conflicts between Russia and adjacent new EU member states, particularly the Baltic states and Poland, have been transposed into problems of EU–Russian relations. These new member states gained the right to veto critical steps in developing EU–Russia relations, such as negotiation of a new EU–Russia partnership agreement (to replace the expired Partnership and Cooperation Agreement of l997). While operational cooperation could continue nonetheless, the increased leverage of the new member states over Russia’s relations with ‘Europe’ had, by 2007, clearly engendered new distrust and irritation on the Russian side, matched by a similar sentiment in Brussels, as the Russian leadership appeared to back off from previous democratic commitments. Russia undoubtedly has found the EU to be a more difficult ‘strategic partner’ to deal with following enlargement; not only unanimity requirements, but also alleged double standards in areas relating to market access and human rights have been among the most visible irritants. The EU, for its part, must face the challenge of bringing member states on board to pursue a unified approach to Russia, while confronting the reality that Europe depends on Russia for energy as much as Russia depends on

258


Europe for trade, investment, and less tangible benefits. Many European officials are clearly uncomfortable with disbanding the EU’s normative activism and relegating relations with Russia to the realm of EU self-interest, or at best a calculation of mutual interest. While notable progress has been made in many aspects of the EU–Russian relationship (e.g., most recently, agreements of visa facilitation and progress on the readmission agreement), the ‘irritants’ frequently have taken centre stage, particularly in evidence at the EU–Russia Summit held in the Russian city of Samara on 18–19 May 2007. The lack of progress on key outstanding issues at that meeting augured poorly for progress in resolving the dilemmas in Russia’s relations with its eastern neighbours. The meeting was marked by mutual recriminations about violations of human rights; for Europeans this had to do with Russia’s limits on opposition forces, for Russia with the EU’s support for policies deemed discriminatory to Russians in the Baltic states. A continuing lack of progress in negotiating a new partnership agreement in the face of a Polish veto, itself in response to a Russian blockage of meat imports from Poland, embodied the stalemate in relations that had ensued. Emotions also flared over the recent Estonian decision to relocate a Soviet war memorial from central Tallinn. President of the European Commission, Jose Manuel Barroso, explained to the Russian leadership: ‘It is very important if you want to have close co-operation to understand that the EU is based on principles of solidarity.’2 However, the solidarity with Estonia and Poland over their squabbles with Russia masked enduring difficulties faced by EU member states in forging common positions vis-à-vis this eastern neighbour. The worsening of EU–Russia relations following the eastern enlargements has a distinct impact on neighbourhood relations in other spheres. First, the increasing tension with Russia following enlargement can feed already festering scepticism among the European public about further expansions. Many European citizens might well consider that including even more contentious cases, such as western Balkan countries, Turkey, or eventually Ukraine, could only augment the tendency of EU enlargement to complicate both the Union’s domestic and external policies. Second, the difficulties of ‘in-between’ countries like Ukraine and Moldova become more complicated in the face of EU-Russian tension. Relations between divided domestic publics and elites in these countries are likely to be even more difficult in such circumstances. Finally, conflict between the EU and Russia over the future status of Kosovo could have effects that would reverberate throughout the western Balkans. The proposal put forth by UN Special Envoy Martti Ahtisaari in February 2007

Conclusion 259

involved internationally supervised independence for Kosovo, giving an important role to the European Union in implementing the plan; the proposal was supported by the European Parliament the next month, despite hesitations among some member states.3 Russian objections to such an outcome were again articulated following the EU-Russian Summit in Samara in May 2007, with Russian Foreign Minister S. Lavrov suggesting that any resolution must be acceptable to Serbia.4 Continued conflict about the future status of Kosovo could feed uncertainty in the entire west Balkan area, further increasing European jitters about future enlargements in the region. The toolkit assembled by the EU through its European Neighbourhood Policy to deal with its European neighbours is of contested effectiveness. While arguably adequate for relations with the Mediterranean states that have no membership aspirations, the policy could, in early 2007, hardly be deemed a clear success in its eastern dimension. A first problem is that rewards for meeting commitments made in Action Plans and in Partnership and Cooperation Agreements are often too distant to motivate actions of governments that might no longer be around to reap the promised benefits. And on the ultimate reward, membership of the Union, the EU has been evasive, arguing that ‘ENP remains distinct from the process of EU enlargement’, and that ‘the ENP does not in any way prejudge the possible future development’ of ENP partners, in this regard.5 The delayed character of benefits offered under ENP and the ambiguity about eventual membership prospects have made it more difficult for leaders in countries like Ukraine to generate active commitment to required reforms among diverse domestic constituencies. Second, the principle of bilateral relations between the EU and ENP partners, suggests a world in which ‘all roads lead from Brussels’. Despite the fact that a 2006 Commission document cites ‘joint ownership’ as one of the strengths of the ENP, it might well look otherwise to the target countries. While individual Action Plans are negotiated by both parties, the frame of reference for their construction has been set in Brussels. The EU-centric nature of the ENP reinforces the partner countries’ orientation toward the EU as the raison d’être for reform, and makes unclarity about expected rewards even potentially more frustrating. In late 2006 the EU’s European Neighbourhood Policy was under evaluation. In a resulting strategy document, issued as a communication to the Council and the European Parliament, the European Commission declared the ENP to be ‘indispensable’ and that the policy ‘has already proven its worth’.6 The Commission suggested adjustments to the ENP that would address weaknesses in the policy. First, improved incentives


for partner countries to implement reforms were identified. One of the tools would be the promotion of ‘deep integration’, still short of EU membership but involving greater trade access by addressing non-tariff barriers and achieving greater regulatory convergence, leading to ‘deep and comprehensive FTAs [Free Trade Agreements].’7 Another would involve greater efforts to ease obstacles to human mobility and migration between ENP countries and the EU. European neighbours would also gain increased access to various EU programmes along with increased funding available through the European Neighbourhood Policy Instrument (with benefits also made available to Russia). These increased benefits would reinforce incentives for fulfillment of commitments made in Action Plans, but an unintended consequence might be to feed accession expectations, by eventually placing countries like Ukraine in a relationship to the EU similar to that enjoyed by Norway and Switzerland. A key, and critical, difference would be, however, that the latter have chosen not to become members, although clearly welcome to join, while Ukraine’s membership aspirations could remain in limbo. The document also suggests an eventual revision to the bilateral nature of the EU’s relations with its neighbours. The 2006 Communication on ENP mentions a ‘longer-term vision of an economic community emerging between the EU and its ENP partners’ rather than reliance on an exclusively bilateral approach.8 Themes around which multilateral cooperation might be organized include energy, environment, public health, research, financial services, and rural development.9 Without the involvement of Russia in such multilateral relations, however, many of the fundamental dilemmas facing ENP might well remain, since a multilateral approach could augment the possibility of Russian isolation. Including Russia in this multilateral arrangement could be a more constructive approach, but one that would also potentially make it more difficult to realize. In the political sphere, the document does recognize the importance of involving Russia in regional initiatives, specifically around the resolution of ‘frozen conflicts’ in countries such as Moldova and in the southern Caucasus, but also in developing cooperative mechanisms relating to the Black Sea region. These new approaches reflect an impressive process of self-reflection after only eighteen months of experience with the ENP. As such they confirm the conclusion drawn by Browning and Joenniemi in this volume, who, following an examination of the northern experience, observe that ‘the EU can contribute to the formation of political space in a non-imperial, negotiated manner’ and that ‘the EU’s capacity to act in different ways under different conditions is of particular significance’.

Conclusion 261

Nonetheless, the EU faces a continuing conundrum in how to deal with its eastern neighbours. Despite these new trajectories put forth by the Commission in December 2006, the latter continues to articulate the notion of conditionality in its relations with European neighbours: ‘The more progress a partner country makes in implementing reforms, the deeper the relationship can become, and the more support the EU can provide’.10 While acknowledging the importance of enhancing the ‘mutual ownership of the ENP’, continued reliance on conditionality suggests a continued asymmetric relationship, one which, for the time being, is largely accepted by ENP partners, but rejected by Russia and, in the west Balkans, by Serbia.11 The EU approach to its eastern and southeast neighbours, however coherent on paper, remains a ‘messy’ one. It involves at once a mix of interest-based and value-based actions; it rests on a common policy framework (the ENP) fostering primarily bilateral relations; it invokes principles of solidarity while forced to accommodate differences in member state diplomacy; and it appeals to universal values of human rights and democracy while implying authority over their proper interpretation. At the end of the day, one can say that the difficulties in the EU’s relations with its eastern neighbours are real and genuine, rooted in a long history of conflict and attempted (but often failed) accommodation. It is no wonder that the issues cannot be resolved quickly or easily. But the question remains. By expanding its own complex network of relations to the east and southeast, has the EU simply pushed the potential for instability further from its own geopolitical core? Or, might the mix of mechanisms generated by the EU to promote dialogue and creative thinking on the situation just be adequate to the task of maintaining and extending peace and stability in Europe? If so, this would reflect the victory of politics over coercion. At the moment, the optimistic variant seems more likely, for however harsh the rhetoric between the ‘strategic partners’ and surrounding the ‘frozen conflicts’, diplomacy is the dominant game in town, as one-by-one conflicts on the European continent are, for the most part, being transformed into politics as usual.

Notes 1. See ‘EU–Russia Trade and Investment Statistics’ produced by the Eurostat Press Office for the EU–Russia Summit, 15 May 2007, http://ec.europa.eu/ external_relations/russia/summit_05_07/index.htm, some data calculated for 2006 with the exclusion of Bulgaria and Romania. 2. ‘Putin wants EU trade row settled’, BBC-News, 21 May 2007, on-line, http:// news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6676457.stm

262


3. ‘MEPs strongly back Martti Ahtisaari’s proposal on Kosovo, call for it to be put under “supervised sovereignty” ’, website of the European Parliament, 29 March 2007, http://www.europarl.europa.eu/news/expert/infopress_page/ 030-4692-087-03-13-903-20070326IPR04617-28-03-2007-2007-false/default_ en.htm (accessed 21 May 2007). 4. ‘Russia’s Lavrov says Western draft resolution on Kosovo “unacceptable” ’, International Herald Tribune, 21 May 2007, http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/ 2007/05/21/europe/EU-GEN-Russia-Kosovo.php (accessed 21 May 2007). 5. European Commission. On Strengthening the European Neighbourhood Policy. Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament. Brussels, 4 December 2006. COM (2006) 726 final, p. 13. 6. Ibid. 7. Ibid., pp. 4–5. 8. Ibid., p. 5. 9. Ibid., p. 8. 10. Ibid., pp. 4, 12. 11. Ibid., p. 14.

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Index Abkhazia, 189 absorption capacity, under European Union, absorption capacity accession, under European Union, accession acquis communautaire, 40, 62, 63, 137, 183, 212 Action Plan(s), 4, 22–3, 25, 40, 65, 131, 259, 260 see also Moldova, Action Plan; Russia, Action Plan and Ukraine, Action Plan Afghanistan, 246 African Union, 252 Ahtisaari, Martti, 258 Albania, 206, 210–11, 213, 214, 215, 229, 241 EU accession of, 207, 208 Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA), 4, 222 Algeria, 4, 23 Ancient Greece, 170 Arctic Council, 44 Armenia, 4, 23 Association Agreement(s), 23, 24, 36, 130, 131, 134 see also Partnership and Cooperation Agreement(s), Stabilization and Association Agreement(s) asylum, under migration Atkinson, David, 78 Austria, 207, 216, 231 Austria-Hungary, 170, 209 Azerbaijan, 4, 23, 27, 195

Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC), 41–2, 44, 45 Barroso, Jose Manuel, 137, 140, 141, 258 Barysch, K., 61 Belarus, 1, 131, 153, 250 and the European Neighbourhood Policy, 3, 23, 42, 130, 247 democratization of, 3–4 relations with Russia, 7, 80, 95, 99, 105, 120, 122, 132 see also Druzhba pipeline, Single Economic Space Belgium, 149, 216, 242 Belgrade Agreement, 228 Benelux countries, 104, 135 Berlin Plus, 20, 241, 247, 252, 253 see also North Atlantic Treaty Organization Bertelsman Transformation Index (BTI), 213–15 Bibler, Vladimir (1918–2000), 172, 175 Bindig, Rudolf, 78 Black, J. L., 116 Black Sea Cooperation, 27 Black Sea region, 104, 182, 188, 195, 196, 248, 260 Bologna Declaration, 166, 177 Bologna Process, 165–78 see also European Union, values; external governance; Georgia, and the Bologna Process Bosnia and Herzegovina, 205, 240 ethno-nationalism, 211 EU accession of, 207, 208 European Union peace building in, 64, 230, 231, 238, 240, 241, 243–7, 252, 253 NATO involvement in, 238, 240, 243, 245, 246 Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA), 4, 222

Bakhtin, M., 175 Balkans, under western Balkans Baltic apartheid, 100 Baltic Sea, 98 Barcelona Process, under Euro-Mediterranean Partnership 273

274 Index Bosnia and Herzegovina – continued stateness of, 213, 214, 215 see also European Security and Defence Policy; NATO, involvement in Bosnia; Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, and Bosnia; Republika Srpska, Stabilization and Association Process Bosniac-Croat Federation, 245 Bowsell, C., 151 Bulgaria, 19, 118, 213, 217, 226, 229 Bull, H., 99 Busek, Erhard, 231 Caucasus, 23, 64, 72, 102, 103, 130, 131, 247, 250 see also frozen conflict Charter for European Security, 116 Chechnya, under Russia, Chechnya China, 59, 66, 99, 112, 115, 120, 121, 122, 184 Chirac, Jacques, 60 Chumak, V., 155 civil society, 58, 96, 173, 174, 209, 224, 228 see also media freedom, Nongovernmental Organization Cogliandro, G., 169 coloured revolutions, under Ukraine, Orange Revolution; Georgia, Rose Revolution Comenius, John Amos (1592–1670), 170 Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), 94 see also Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Committee for the Civilian Aspects of Crisis Management (CIVCOM), 227 Common Economic Space (CES), 57, 62 Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), 63, 150, 225, 227, 228, 230, 232, 239, 250 see also second pillar common security versus liberal security, 44–5

Common Spaces, under Four Common Spaces Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), 27, 70, 115, 116, 120, 135, 196 Community Assistance for Reconstruction, Democratization and Stabilization (CARDS), 223, 243 conditionality, under European Union, conditionality constitutional referendum, under European Union, constitutional referendum constructivism, 28 Copenhagen criteria, under European Union, Copenhagen criteria Cossack Pedagogy, 170–1 Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (CMEA), 111 Council of Baltic Sea States (CBSS), 13, 41, 44, 45 Council of Europe, 13, 73, 78–9, 112, 138, 189 Country Reports, under European Commission, Country Reports Croatia, 1, 206, 209, 218, 240 ethno-nationalism, 210 EU accession of, 2, 19, 141, 207, 208, 217, 223 Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA), 4, 222 stateness of, 211, 213, 214, 215 see also western Balkans Cuba, 184 Cyprus, 217 Czech Republic, 207 Darfur, 251, 252 Davis, Terry, 78 Dayton Accords, also Dayton Agreement, 228, 231, 240, 241, 244, 245, 246 De Gucht, Karel, 190 De Montis, Cesare, 182 de Szeged, Adriaan Jacobovits, 182 decentralization, 39, 41, 223, 226, 234 Declaration on Higher Education, under Bologna Declaration

Index deconcentration, 223, 226, 230, 234 defective democracies, 12, 212, 213, 215, 217 Del Sarto, R. A., 37, 40 Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), 251, 252 democratization, under European Union, democratization détente, 103, 120 Deutsch, K. W., 224 Diacov, Dumitru, 187 differentiation, under inward differentiation, outward differentiation Disterweg, Adolf (1790–1866), 170 Druzhba pipeline, 100 Dublin Convention, 150 Dutch referendum, under European Union, constitutional referendum Egypt, 4, 23 Energy Charter, 61, 80 energy dialogue, under Russia, energy dialogue enlargement fatigue, under European Union, enlargement fatigue Estonia, 57, 95, 100, 111, 217, 258 Euro, introduction of, 83 Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC), 118 Eurojust, 65 Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, 4, 36, 40, 130 European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), 104 European Commission and Moldova, 182, 183 and Russia, 59, 62 77, 101 as a negotiator, 22, 150, 153, 156 as a policy maker, 3, 57, 151, 153, 259 as a supranational actor, 55, 229 Country Reports, 4, 22, 25, 40 Strategy Papers, 22 European Community (EC), 2, 55, 149, 227 European Council, 29, 57, 58, 150, 222, 223, 227, 239

275

European Credit Transfer System (ECTS), 167, 176 European Defence Agency, 252 European Economic Area (EEA), 24, 39, 63 European Higher Education Area (EHEA), 166, 167 European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (ENPI), 4, 23, 43, 46 see also Technical Assistance for the Commonwealth of Independent States European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) and security, 33–4, 35 and the logic of appropriateness, 27–9 and the Orange Revolution, 136–40 as a challenge to the North, 39–46 as a response to EU enlargement, 19–20, 22–3, 25–7, 153, 256 the nature of, 3, 4, 6, 23–4, 259–61 see also Belarus, and the European Neighbourhood Policy; European Union, conditionality; European Union, values; Georgia, and the European Neighbouhood Policy; Moldova, and the European Neighbourhood Policy; Russia, and the European Neighbourhood Policy; Ukraine, and the European Neighbourhood Policy; western Balkans, and the European Neighbourhood Policy European Parliament, 70, 73, 77, 137, 138, 259 European Security and Defence Identity (ESDI), 227 European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP), 12, 57, 64, 141, 227–8, 230, 238–43, 244, 246, 249–54 see also Bosnia, FYROM, operations

276 Index European Union (EU) see also individual institutions, policies and treaties of the European Union absorption capacity, 9, 139, 141, 223 accession, 1, 9, 20, 21, 28, 81, 85, 133, 153, 212, 250, 257 see also under individual countries Association Agreements conditionality, 5, 25–8, 77, 151, 153 general effectiveness of, 6, 13, 36, 37–9, 79 and the European Neighbourhood Policy, 5, 6, 13, 20, 26, 34, 40–2, 261 see also Russia, and EU conditionality; Ukraine, and EU conditionality and western Balkans, and EU conditionality constitutional referendum, 26, 111, 206, 207 Copenhagen criteria, 4, 25, 29, 212, 229 democratization, 6, 8, 25, 28 see also Belarus, democratization of; Moldova, democratization of; Russia, democratization of; Ukraine, democratization of and western Balkans, democratization of enlargement fatigue, 1, 9, 136, 139, 143, 184 external governance, 5, 36, 37, 256 see also Russia, EU external governance policy toward insider/outsider paradox, 5, 21 see also European Union, Schengen paradox integration security dilemma, 5, 35–9, 41 Pre-Accession Instrument, 223 pre-accession process, 206, 212, 217, 218 Schengen paradox, 5, 21, see also European Union, insider/ outsider paradox

values, 6, 8, 11, 205, 206, 212, 261 and the Bologna Process, 166, 178 and the European Neighbourhood Policy, 6, 22, 24, 25, 34, 36, 153 and the western Balkans, 207, 212 in EU-Russia relations, 65, 66, 70–88, 93, 94, 100, 101, 106 versus security, 8, 9 European Union Border Assistance Mission (EUBAM), 192 European Union Force (EUFOR), 230, 238, 246–7 see also Stabilization Force European Union Military Committee (EUMC), 227 European Union Military Staff (EUMS), 227 European Union Police Advisory Team (EUPAT), 243 European Union Police Mission (EUPM), 230, 243, 244–5, 246, 250 European Union Programme for Conflict Prevention, 227 Europeanization, 57, 148 definitions of, 76–7, 152 see also Russia, Europeanization of; Ukraine, Europeanization of; western Balkans, Europeanization of Europol, 65 Euroregion, 44, 229 Euroscepticism, 217 external governance, under European Union, external governance Fererro-Waldner, Benita, 29, 39, 77, 159 Finland, 13, 100, 104, 207, 216 first pillar, 57 Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM), 222, 223, 225, 238, 240–3, 244, 252 fortress Europe, 5, 8, 36, 148 Four Common Spaces, under Russia, Four Common Spaces

Index Four Freedoms, 37, 39, 63 France and NATO, 117 relations with Russia, 57, 64, 101, 104 stance on enlargement, 135, 206–7, 216 see also European Union, constitutional referendum Free Trade Agreements (FTAs), 260 free trade area, 62, 63 see also common economic space French referendum, under European Union, constitutional referendum Froumin, I., 176 frozen conflict, 11, 102, 183, 188, 196, 248, 257, 260, 261 see also Transnistria G8, 112, 121, 168, 229, 230, 231, 232 see also Germany, G8 leadership Gadamer, H.-G., 97 Gagauzia region, 190 Gaidar, Yegor, 76 Gazprom, under Russia, Gazprom General Affairs Council, 57 General Framework Agreement for Peace in Bosnia-Herzegovina, under Dayton Accords Georgia and ESDP missions, 250, 252 and GUAM, 27 and NATO and the Bologna Process, 168, 169 and the European Neighbourhood Policy, 4, 23 Rose Revolution, 182, 185, 186 see also frozen conflict Germany and NATO, 117 EU presidency, 144, 230, 231 G8 leadership, 230, 231, 232 involvement in the western Balkans, 230, 231, 232, 247 relations with Russia, 57, 96, 101, 132 stance on EU enlargement, 206–7, 216, 217, 232

277

see also Northern European Gas Pipeline, West Germany Gotovina, Ante, 218 Greece, 205, 229, 231 see also Ancient Greece Grigoriev, G. V., 119 Gromadzki, G., 40 Grushko, Alexander, 106 GUAM, also GUUAM, under Organization for Democracy and Economic Development Hague Programme on Migration, 151 Hague War Crimes Tribunal, The, 218, 223 Haukkala, H., 38, 39 Helsinki Headline Goals, 239, 240, 241, 252 Herbart, Johann Friedrich (1776– 1841), 170 Hoffmann, S., 56 see also logic of diversity Hombach, Bodo, 231 Hungary, 100, 135, 207 see also Austria-Hungary Iceland, 24, 43, 46, 63, 95 Ikenberry, G. J., 24 immigration, under migration Implementation Force (IFOR), 245–6 Index of EU Enlargement Knowledge, 83 India, 112, 122 insider/outsider paradox, under European Union, insider/ outsider paradox, see also European Union, Schengen paradox integration security dilemma, under European Union, integration security dilemma intergovernmentalism, 28, 225 International Governmental Organization (IGO), 224, 228, 230 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 195 International Police Task Force (IPTF), 243, 244, 245, 246

278

Index

inward differentiation, 12, 223, 224, 230–2 see also outward differentiation Iran, 112, 114, 122 Iraq, 64, 72, 117, 119, 246, 252 Israel, 4, 23, 24 Italy, 104, 231, 256 Ivanov, Sergey, 94, 118 Japan, 59, 66, 112, 122 Jastrzhembskiy, Sergey, 100, 101, 102 Jil-Robles, Alvaro, 78 Joint Control Council (JCC), 195 Jordan, 4, 23, Justice and Home Affairs, 57, 148, 150, 151, 155, 156, 227 see also third pillar Kaliningrad, 53, 72, 80, 95, 102 Kazakhstan, 122, 169 see also Single Economic Space Kelley, J., 153 Khristenko, Victor, 60 KIIS-DIF poll, 135 Kissinger, Henry, 121 Kosak, K., 177 Kosovo Force (KFOR), 230, 253–4 Kosovo as a model for the Transnistrian conflict, 189 EU accession of, 207 NATO’s 1999 campaign in, 64, 228, 241, 250 stateness of, 211, 213, 215–16 status of, 2, 12, 223, 232, 238, 253, 258–9 see also Kosovo Force Kozak memorandum, 185, 196 Kuchma, Leonid, 132, 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 139, 187, 188 Lamoureux, François, 60 Lamy, Pascal, 61 Larrabee, F. S., 115, 117 Lasswell, H. D., 97 Latvia, 57, 95, 100, 111, 118, 168 Lavenex, S., 152, 153 Lavrov, Sergey, 94, 99, 118, 259 Law on Refugees, 155

Lebanon, 4, 23, 251, 254 Leontiev, A., 175 Libya, 4, 23 Light, M., 75, 82 Likhachev, Aleksei, 115 Lindstrøm, C., 151 Lithuania, 102, 111, 118, 137, 170, 196, 207 Litskai, Valery, 191 Locke, John (1632–1704), 170 logic of appropriateness, under European Union, conditionality logic of diversity, 56 Lukashenko, Alexander, 100, 132 Luxembourg, 149, 207, 216 Lyukanov, F., 122–3 Maastricht Treaty, 150, 239 Macedonia, under Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM) Machtpolitik, 103 Magna Charta Universitatum, 166 Makarenko, Anton (1888–1939), 172, 175 Malynovska, O., 155 McAllister, I., 75, 82 media freedom, 77, 78, 79, 93, 96, 134, 186, 187 migration, 5, 8, 11, 37, 102, 133, 147–61, 257, 260 Milosevic, Slobodan, 210, 231 Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine, under Ukraine, Ministry of Education and Science Mladic, Ratko, 218, 223 Moldova, 1, 131, 182 Action Plan, 183, 184, 247, 249 and GUAM, 27 and the European Neighbourhood Policy, 9, 11, 23, 42, 183 democratization of, 183, 196 elections, 185–6 EU accession of, 12 EU-Moldova Action Plan, 183, 184 Moldovogaz, 194 Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA), 130, 131, 132, 183

Index Moldova – continued relations with Romania, 184 relations with Russia, 11, 184, 185, 191, 194–5, 196 relations with Ukraine, 12 Security and Stability Pact, 187 stateness of, 183, 184, 186–7 see also European Commission, and Moldova; Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, and Moldova; Romania, relations with Moldova; Transnistria; United States, relations with Moldova Moldovogaz, under Moldova, Moldovogaz Monnet, Jean, 105 Monroe Doctrine, 115 Montenegro, 2, 4, 206, 211 see also Serbia Moravcsik, A., 28 Morocco, 4, 23, 24 National Commission for European Integration, 183 negotiations, ‘5 1 2’, under Transnistria, negotiations, ‘5 1 2’ Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (NPI), 4, 23, 43, 70 Netherlands, 26, 104, 111, 149, 206, 207, 216 see also European Union, constitutional referendum ‘no’ votes, under European Union, constitutional referendum Non-governmental Organization (NGO), 42, 77, 78, 79, 93, 96, 224, 230 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) involvement in Bosnia, 245 involvement in Transnistria, 192 new members, 111 Russian membership in, 118–19 Russian perceptions of NATO enlargement, 64, 72, 73, 74, 113, 116–18

279

Ukrainian membership in, 133, 135, 142, 143 see also France, and NATO; Georgia, and NATO; Germany, and NATO; Kosovo, NATO’s 1999 campaign in; Petersberg Tasks; Russia-NATO Council; United States, and NATO North Sea, 97 Northern Dimension Initiative (NDI), 5, 13, 34, 35, 36, 40, 42, 44, 45, 46 Northern European Gas Pipeline (NEGP), 98, 101, 103–4 Norway, 24, 43, 46, 63, 95, 104, 165, 260 Ohrid Agreement, 228, 241 operations Allied Harmony, 241 Althea, 246, 247, 249, 250 Amber Fox, 241 Concordia, 242, 243, 250 Proxima, 242, 243 Organization for Democracy and Economic Development (GUAM and GUUAM), 27, 188 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) and Bosnia, 246 and Moldova, 185 and Transnistria, 187–8, 189, 190, 191, 193, 248 Russian membership in, 13, 73, 111–12, 116 Orlov, Aleksandr, 115–16 Orlov, Dmitry, 121 outward differentiation, 12, 223, 234 see also inward differentiation Palestinian Authority, 4, 23 Panslavism, 116 paradoxes of enlargement, under European Union, insider/outsider paradox; European Union, Schengen paradox

280 Index Paris Club, 195 Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA), 4, 131, 134 see also Moldova, Partnership and Cooperation Agreement; Russia, Partnership and Cooperation Agreement; Ukraine, Partnership and Cooperation Agreement Patten, Chris, 61 peace consolidation, under western Balkans, peace consolidation Permanent Joint Council, under Russia-NATO Council Permanent Partnership Council (PPC), 59 Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich (1746–1827), 170 Petersberg Tasks, 239, 240, 252 POF surveys, under Russian Public Opinion Foundation Poland, 21, 45, 98, 104, 135, 170, 257, 258 Political and Security Committee, 64, 227, 245, 247 Polyakov, L., 154, 155, 157 Poroshenko, Petro, 188 Pre-Accession Instrument, under European Union, Pre-Accession Instrument pre-accession process, under European Union, pre-accession process Primakov memorandum, 193, 196 Prodi, Romano, 24–5, 26, 60 Putin, Vladimir addresses, 70, 72, 79, 80, 112, 123 centralization under, 77, 78, 93 foreign policy under, under Russia, as an independent international actor Russia’s European orientation, 70–1, 76, 87, 115 Radaelli, C. M., 76 see also Europeanization Rapid Reaction Forces, 227 Rapid Reaction Mechanism (RRM), 227 Razumkov poll, 135

Realpolitik, 41, 87 Regional Cooperation Council (RCC), 232 regulatory convergence, under Russia, regulatory convergence Republika Srpska, 245 see also Bosnia and Herzegovina Road Maps, under Russia, Road Maps Romania American military presence in, 118 and Transnistria, 187, 188, 189 EU accession of, 19, 184, 226, 229 relations with Moldova, 184, 247, 249 stateness of, 213, 214, 215, 217 Rome Declaration, 120 Rorty, R., 97 Rosca, Iurie, 185 Rose Revolution, under Georgia, Rose Revolution Rousseau, Jean-Jacques (1712–78), 170, 171 Royaumont Process, 228 Russia Action Plan, 79 and EU conditionality, 6, 7, 10, 13, 43, 59, 87, 93 as an independent international actor, 99, 103, 112–15, 119–23 Chechnya, 77, 78, 102 democratization of, 10 energy dialogue, 9, 57, 60–2, 99 EU external governance policy toward, 9, 54, 55–7, 60, 62, 63, 65, 66 Europeanization of, 79, 92 evolving relationship with the EU, 79–81, 92–106, 111–23 Four Common Spaces, 4, 23, 42, 43, 46, 59, 73 Gazprom, 61, 103, 104, 141, 194 Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA), 53, 54, 58, 59, 60, 62, 73, 83, 93, 111 policy toward Europe, 115–16 public opinion in, 72–4, 81–6 regulatory convergence, 62, 92, 105 Road Maps, 4, 42, 53, 59, 62, 79, 92, 95, 105

Index Russia – continued Yukos affair, 93 see also European Commission, and Russia; European Union, values; France, relations with Russia; Germany, relations with Russia; Moldova, relations with Russia; NATO, Russians membership in; NATO, Russian perceptions of NATO enlargement; Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, Russian membership in; Putin; Single Economic Space; Ukraine, relations with Russia; United States, relations with Russia Russian Public Opinion Foundation (POF), 73–4, 76, 83 Russia-NATO Council (RNC), 64, 111, 117, 118, 120 Saakashvili, Mikhail, 186 Schengen Information System (SIS), 149 Schengen paradox, under European Union, Schengen paradox, see also European Union, insider/ outsider paradox Schimmelfennig, F., 20, 26, 27, 28, 56 Schröder, Gerhard, 100, 104 Schröder-Putin Pact, 104 see also Northern European Gas Pipeline Schumacher, T., 37, 40 Schwarz-Schilling, Christian, 231 second pillar, 57, 227 see also Common Foreign and Security Policy, European Security and Defence Policy Second World War, 94, 104, 210, 224, 231 Security and Stability Pact for Moldova (SSPM), 187 Sedelmeier, F., 26, 56 Serbia, also Serbia and Montenegro, 1, 211, 218 EU accession of, 2, 207, 208

281

Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA), 4, 221, 223 stateness of, 211, 213, 215 see also frozen conflict, Kosovo, Montenegro, western Balkans Serebrian, Oleg, 187 Seven Steps, under Transnistria Shanghai Cooperative Organization, 122 Sharonov, Andrei, 99, 100 Sheriff company, under Transnistria Shevardnadze, Eduard, 186 Single Economic Space (SES), 133, 134, 135 Single European Act, 49 Single European Market, 24, 57, 149 Slovakia, 207, 213 Slovenia, 207, 211, 232 Smirnov, Igor, 188, 189, 190, 191 Smith, K. E., 38 Smith, M., 56 Solana, Javier, 58, 137, 138, 232, 245 Southeast European Cooperative Initiative (SECI), 228 South Ossetia, 102, 189 South-East European Cooperation Process (SEECP), 232 southern Caucasus, 23, 260 St. Malo Joint Declaration on European Defence, 239 Stability Pact, under Moldova, Security and Stability Pact for Moldova; Stability Pact for Central and Eastern Europe; Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe Stability Pact for Central and Eastern Europe, 228 Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe, 12, 36, 222, 224, 225, 226, 228–9, 231, 232, 247, 250 Stabilization and Association Agreements (SAA), 4, 222, 226, 228, 229 see also Albania, Stabilization and Association Agreement; Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia; Croatia, Stabilization and Association Agreement; Montenegro;

282

Index

Stabilization and Association Agreements – continued Serbia, Stabilization and Association Agreement Stabilization and Association Process (SAP), 4, 212, 222, 223, 226, 229, 230, 234, 245, 250 Stabilization Force (SFOR), 238, 245, 246, 247 see also North Atlantic Treaty Organization state building, 212–16 stateness, see under individual countries Sturza, Vasili, 189 Sukhomlyns’ky, Vasyl (1918–70), 172 Sweden, 104 Switzerland, 59, 260 Syria, 4, 23, 24 Tarasyuk, Boris, 159 Tassinari, F., 36, 45 Technical Assistance and Information Exchange Office (TAIEX), 184 Technical Assistance for the Commonwealth of Independent States (TACIS) 23, 57, 57–8, 59, 71, 183 see also European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument theories of European integration, see constructivism, liberal intergovernmentalism third pillar, 57, 227 third-country nationals (TCNs), 149, 150, 151, 160 Tomusk, V., 168 transatlantic relations, 39 Transnistria, 2, 7, 12, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187–91, 192, 193, 196, 247–9 negotiations, ‘5 1 2’, 188, 191, 192, 193, 196 Sheriff company, 190 see also frozen conflicts; NATO, involvement in Transnistria; Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, and

Transnistria; Romania, and Transnistria Treaty of Amsterdam, 58, 150, 239 Treaty of Rome, 35, 80 Treaty on the European Union (TEU), 228 Troyan, A. G., 119 Tudjman, Franjo, 210 Tunisia, 4, 23 Turkey, 1, 8, 24, 39 EU accession of, 19, 33, 139, 141, 217, 258 stateness of, 214 Tymoshenko, Yulia, 140, 142 Uçarer, E. M., 152, 153 Uehling, G., 158 Ukraine Action Plan, 134, 135, 138, 139, 141, 142, 143, 144, 156, 159, 249 and EU conditionality, 156 democratization of, 11, 172 elections, 2, 54, 136–8, 142–3 EU accession of, 3, 7, 29, 111, 139, 184 Europeanization of, 11, 139 immigration and asylum policy, 11, 147–61 Ministry of Education and Science, 165, 176, 177, 178 Orange Revolution, 29, 71, 136–40, 143, 165, 177, 182, 185, 186 Partnership and Cooperation Agreement, 130, 131, 133, 134, 141, 142, 143, 155, 156 relations with Russia, 7, 80, 99 see also Bologna Process; frozen conflict; GUAM; Single Economic Space; GUAM; Moldova, relations with Ukraine; NATO, Ukrainian membership in; Transnstria unilateralism, 41, 45 United Kingdom (UK), 63, 104, 117, 135, 217, 247 United Nations Convention on Refugees, 155

Index United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), 216 United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), 158, 246 United Nations Preventative Deployment (UNPREDEP), 241 United Nations Security Council Resolutions, 228, 242, 243, 245, 246 United States (US) and NATO, 117, 142, 246, 250, 253 relations with Moldova, 185, 187, 188, 194, 248 relations with Russia, 59, 64, 72, 73, 74, 102, 103, 112, 115, 120 Urecheanu, Serafim, 187 Vachudova, M. A., 6, 212 values, under European Union, values van Selm, J., 152 Venice Commission, 189 Verheugen, Günther, 29 Vietnam, 184 visas, 2, 14, 21, 26, 36, 53, 65, 73, 101, 156–7 Voronin, Oleg, 186 Voronin, Vladimir, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 192, 195, 196, 248 Vygotsky, L., 175 Washington Consensus, 54 Weltpolitik, 103 West Germany, 104, 120, 149 western Balkans, 6, 9, 12, 132, 141, 222–34, 238–54, 258, 261 see also under individual countries

283

democratization of, 207, 208–12, 214, 218 Europeanization of, 205–18, 249 peace consolidation, 12, 222, 224 EU conditionality, 12, 213, 218, 224, 226 see also European Union, values; Germany, involvement in the western Balkans Western European Union (WEU), 239 White Book on European Governance, 55 White, S., 75, 82 Wider Europe / New Neighbours initiative, 3, 6, 22, 23, 130, 132, 133 Wight, M., 101 World Bank, 93, 195, 229 World Trade Organization (WTO), 58, 99, 133, 248 Yakunin, Vladimir, 98 Yanukovych, Viktor, 27, 133, 136, 137, 142, 143 Yekhanurov, Yuriy, 140 Yeltsin, Boris, 76, 96 Yugoslavia Royal Yugoslavia, 210 Titoist Yugoslavia, 210 see also western Balkans Yukos affair, under Russia, Yukos affair Yushchenko, Viktor, 29, 136, 138, 139, 140, 142, 185, 188, 248 Zhuravsky, V., 168

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