From Many, One European Union Foreign Policy Decision-Making

From Many, One
European Union Foreign Policy Decision-Making
Lowell West
Haverford College, Political Science Department Senior Thesis
Professor Barak Mendelsohn
April 24, 2013
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
iii
Chapter One: The Common Foreign and Security Policy
1
Chapter Two: Analyzing the European Union
6
Chapter Three: Research Design
39
Chapter Four: Blacklisting
48
Chapter Five: The European Neighborhood Policy
76
Chapter Six: Conclusion
109
Bibliography
127
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Acknowledgements
When I was in the sixth grade, we visited our local newspaper, The El Paso Times, for a
field trip. Since the people at the newspaper were not exactly ambitious folks, they took six of us
aside and did small profiles of “gifted and talented” students. In mine, I said my favorite subject
was math and that I wanted to be an engineer. Oh my, how far have I fallen and, oh my, what a
wonderful fall it has been.
I would first like to thank Haverford College and the Haverford College Political Science
Department for taking me in from my wayward high school youth and educating me. I especially
would like to thank my advisor, Professor Barak Mendelsohn, who has always asked for my best
and was always willing to work with me to get there. I would also like to thank Peter Boal,
Matthew Cebul, Bailee Donahue, Rupinder Garcha, Aaron Schwartzbaum, Nazzi Soroush,
Travis Taylor and Malina Toza for being a part of my thesis group and giving me so much feed
back and camaraderie while we all went through this together. I also would like to thank IES
Abroad for introducing me to the wonderful, insane world of European Union politics.
Beyond my department, I would like to thank all of my friends and family for their
support these last four years. I would especially like to thank Andrew deVillier, Nathaniel
Sergay, Hannah Schultz and Rebecca Schwartz for always having faith in me, even when I did
not have faith in myself. Finally, I would like to thank my mother and father for everything they
did to raise me, send me to college and make me curious about the world around me. If only
every child had parents that so eagerly encouraged them to read, as mine did for me.
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For Grandpa George, and his unending desire to learn new things
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Chapter One
The Common Foreign and Security Policy
In June 1967, the leaders of the six member states1 of the European Communities (EC)
were meeting in Rome as part of their periodic summits regarding the European Economic
Community, the European Coal and Steel Community and the EURATOM, a European
consortium on the use of atomic energy. At the same time, war was breaking out in the Middle
East, as Israel and Egypt began fighting the Six-Day War that would lead to massive Israeli gains
in Gaza and the Sinai Peninsula in June 1967. During the war, the European Communities
membership would face the very awkward truth that no common statement could be made from
Rome because the six member states had significantly divergent opinions on how to respond to
the crisis. France scoffed at using the EC as a platform for foreign policy declarations while
Germany saw it as a rare opportunity to show European independence from the United States
and the Soviet Union (Smith 2004, 63). The summit passed without a declaration, a dark moment
for Europe.
Today, such a debate over whether or not the EC, now known as the European Union,
should be used as a forum for foreign policy declarations seems anachronistic and absurd. The
EU not only is used as a forum to discuss foreign policy issues; it has its own foreign policy. The
Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), established with the Treaty of Maastricht in 1992,
gave the EU a single voice with which to make foreign policy decisions. In doing so, it appeared
to create one of the world’s most formidable actors. The EU is the world’s largest single market
with a GDP of US$16.6 trillion and contains 28 of the world’s 79 most important global
financial centers, including by far the world’s largest in London (European Commission; Z/Yen
1Belgium,France,Germany,Italy,LuxembourgandtheNetherlands.
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Group 2013). To be sanctioned by the EU is to be removed from much of global commerce.
This reality makes it important to study the EU as a global actor and explain why it
makes the foreign policy decisions it makes. The problem is that the existence of such a foreign
policy at all defies many of the expectations of international relations. States are meant to be the
units of analysis, not supranational organizations. A whole new strand of literature has had to be
created to apply international relations theory to the EU, either in the form of explaining how EU
member states come together to make a common foreign policy decision or by simply regarding
the EU as a single actor within the international system. Since the CFSP is so new and there has
only recently been a large enough body of empirical evidence to study, this new literature
explaining EU foreign policy decisions has gaps, missing key elements that impact the EU’s
decision-making.
These gaps define the broad goal of this thesis: to apply important, but neglected
elements of international relations theory to the EU. More specifically, this thesis will argue that
EU foreign policy decisions are made with the actions and reactions of great powers within the
international system in mind. As I will demonstrate, current literature either ignores the external
environment’s affect on EU foreign policy decisions, focusing on the internal dynamics of
decision-making within the EU, or it treats the EU’s relations with all states in the international
system equally.
It is absurd to think of foreign policy decisions being made without regard for the
external environment. Actors do not act within a vacuum where all things are held equal, even
when acting within an international organization like the EU. They feel the pull of external
events and actors and factor these issues into their decision-making within international
institutions.
2
It is equally deceptive to consider all other states equal in how an actor views its foreign
policy. Every time the international system and regional systems are characterized, they are
characterized by the number of powerful actors involved: the multipolar world of the Concert of
Europe in the nineteenth century, the bipolar world of the Cold War and the unipolar world
following the collapse of the Soviet Union are only a few examples of how international
relations theorists have conceived of the international system. In every case, some actors matter
more for the international system and the states within it than others. The same should be true for
any EU foreign policy.
Within the context of this broad goal of bringing in the importance of great powers into
explaining EU foreign policy decision-making, this thesis also has the narrower goal of
explaining the EU’s decision-making for the application of economic and financial sanctions.
This will take the EU’s most powerful foreign policy tool and show that external great powers
are the single most important factor in how it is used. It will also try to determine how this factor
manifests itself, as there are many ways in which an external great power could affect the EU’s
decisions in sanctions. This thesis will therefore seek to answer the following question: What
determines the EU’s use of economic and financial sanctions? In the answer, it will show how
external great power influence makes its strongest appearance in EU foreign policy decisionmaking.
It is important to note what this thesis is not. First, it is not a study of the use economic
and financial sanctions in general; it only tries to determine why the EU chooses to use or not use
economic and financial sanctions. Second, it does not make a claim for why the CFSP exists at
all. While theoretical discussions on what determines EU foreign policy decision-making may
include explanations stemming from the EU integration literature on why the EU and the CFSP
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exist, this thesis takes no position on this question. It is focused solely on explaining EU
sanctions decision-making as an informative study on how the EU decides its foreign policy in
general.
In this effort, the remainder of this thesis is divided into five chapters. Chapter Two
examines the current literature on EU foreign policy decision-making. It notes how scholars are
divided into camps over how to analyze the EU and how these camps divide into schools of
thought. It also discusses how each viable explanation presented by previous authors ignores the
effect of great powers on EU foreign policy decision-making. The chapter then shows how these
viable explanations can be modified to better reflect the effect of great powers on EU foreign
policy decision-making and provides hypotheses for how this effect may manifest itself in the
EU’s specific decision-making on economic and financial sanctions.
Chapter Three provides a guide to how I will prove or disprove these hypotheses. This
thesis will seek an answer to the question of what determines the EU’s use of economic and
financial sanctions through qualitative study, determining indicators supporting and disproving
each hypothesis and then searching case studies for these indicators. Chapter Three will discuss
what these indicators are and then will discuss the logic behind selecting cases.
Chapters Four and Five include the four case studies that will seek to answer the question
of what determines the EU’s use of financial sanctions. Chapter Four will discuss the EU’s
counterterrorism blacklist that places financial sanctions on what the EU determines to be
terrorist organizations. The chapter will examine the case of Mujahedeen-e Khalq, which the EU
sanctioned, and Hezbollah, which the EU did not sanction. These terrorist groups hold in
common a long association with Iran, which regards Mujahedeen-e Khalq as an enemy of the
state and Hezbollah as a loyal ally. The chapter will examine how the EU’s relationship with Iran
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affected its decision-making on whether or not to label each group a terrorist organization.
Chapter Five will discuss the EU’s sanctions in states under its near abroad initiative, the
European Neighborhood Policy. The EU has declared its neighborhood to be an area it cannot
ignore and has taken great interest in two of its neighbors: Belarus and the Ukraine. In both
states, opposition against the government has been suppressed, but sanctions have only been
instituted in Belarus. I examine both decisions and try to determine how the EU’s relationship
with the two states’ large neighbor Russia may have affected them.
In Chapter Six, I provide concluding remarks, synthesizing the information from the four
case studies into an answer to the question of what determines the EU’s use of economic and
financial sanctions. I then discuss how the thesis provides theoretical and empirical support for
focusing on how great powers affect EU foreign policy decision-making and how they are
factors that must be considered when explaining the EU’s decisions under the CFSP.
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Chapter Two
Analyzing the European Union
Studying the EU as an international actor creates special problems, most importantly in
choosing a unit of analysis: the EU as a whole or its member states. On the one hand, the EU
established a foreign policy with the Treaty of Maastricht in 1992, its own foreign minister2 with
the Treaty of Amsterdam in 1997 and a defense policy at the Cologne European Council in 1999.
On the other hand, all 27 member states retain their foreign ministries and often squabble over
foreign policy issues. Given these contradictory behaviors, scholars often have to make judgment
calls over whether the EU is a single actor or a block of 27 actors.
This decision creates a fundamental divide in the literature and leads scholars to radically
different potential explanations for EU foreign policy decision-making. Considering the
importance of this divide, this chapter will focus on it first, discussing why scholars choose one
unit of analysis over the other while noting the trade-offs and assumptions that come with each
choice. I will then discuss how scholars within these two camps diverge into schools of thought
on how the EU acts, starting with those scholars who argue that the EU is a collection of many
actors and then discussing scholars who believe the EU works as a single actor. In these
discussions, I will identify which explanations are the most viable and their potential
weaknesses; most importantly, I will discuss their omission of how external great powers can
affect EU decision-making. I will then add my modifications to the most viable explanations to
include the influence of external great powers and distill hypotheses for determining when the
EU institutes sanctions.
2
The High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, currently
Catherine Ashton of United Kingdom
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Choosing a Unit of Analysis
The question of whether to view the EU as a single actor or an institution of many actors
starts with how to view the practice of unanimous decision-making. While the Treaty of
European Union has made allowance for less than unanimous voting—i.e. qualified majority
voting (QMV)—in areas where a common strategy has been adopted, in practice all decisions on
the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) are made unanimously (Smith 2004, 214). In
the view of scholars who believe the EU is an institution containing many actors—who Christian
Kaunert (2010) calls “structuralist” scholars—the process of how this unanimity is achieved is
the vital to explain European foreign policy. Member states in the EU, according to structuralists,
may have a common foreign policy, but it is still subject to the whims of those member states
and their negotiation of foreign policy needs to be the focus of study (Thomas 2009). Scholars
who believe the EU is a single actor—or “individualists”—believe the process of unanimity
needs to be seen as an internal matter and the real focus of study should be how the Union acts
and affects the international system (Kaunert 2010). These scholars see the EU as having a
coherent body of interests and a specific impact on the international system.
The appeal of structuralist explanations is clear. First, they do not stray very far from
orthodoxy in international relations theory. States remain “the units of international-political
systems” and they remain, for the most part, “like units” (Waltz 1986, 87). Individualists on the
other hand, have difficulty trying to define the EU as a unit. Sandra Lavenex and Frank
Schimmelfennig (2009) sidestep the problem, focusing on how “systems of rules” are exported
from the EU to third states through external governance3. The EU does not have an active
3
This trick allows Schimmelfennig to write on both sides of the divide both discussing the EU
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foreign policy in this sense, but a set of rules that it feels would be useful for other states. Ian
Manners (2002) insists that scholars look away from the policies of the EU and consider its
cognitive properties as an actor. Chiara Ruffa (2011) hedges, writing that “the EU needs to be
studied using different categories than those used to study a state’s foreign policy”, but it also
“can be studied as an actor in IR” (Ruffa 2011, 565). As Kaunert describes, individualists make
the assumption “because Europe acts, it is an actor” (Kaunert 2010, 43), but cannot give a
concept of what this actor is. Individualists show much more comfort with a concept of the EU
simply causing displacement in the international system. It causes effects in the international
system, but it lacks the raison d’être of states.
Stucturalists second advantage is that they can build on an existent body of literature
determining why the CFSP exists at all4. Since these explanations rely on member states, they
can be folded into how structuralists’ explain EU foreign policy actions. Individualists must take
for granted that these original motivations have either been integrated into the foreign policy
priorities of the EU as a whole or have been satisfied to the point that they are no longer relevant.
Andrew Moravcsik (2009) gives the argument that the EU has come to realize the common
interests of its members and therefore works as a single unit. Manners (2002) argues that
European identity and the norms that come with it have created an independent actor. Lavenex
and Schimmelfennig (2009) completely separate their concept of European action from
integration, viewing the extension of rules as having completely different motivations from the
working as a single actor with Lavenex and as a group of multiple actors learning EU norms for
use in foreign policies (Schimmelfennig 2005). For the most part, however, scholars tend to
make a decision on how they analyze the EU.
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These explanations include, among others, balancing against American power (Posen 2006);
constraining German power (Jones 2007, 33); increasing global influence (Jones 2007, 24);
spilling over policy due to “the inherent functional linkages of tasks” (Nye 1970); developing
European identity (Parsons 2003); and building an institution to realize common interests
(Keohane 1984, 245)
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original concept of integration. All of these arguments unmoor EU foreign policy literature from
past integration literature and force individualists to declare that an incomplete process has
reached an appropriate threshold to consider the EU as a single actor. This is not necessarily a
bad thing, as structuralists such as Thomas (2009) and Jeffrey Checkel (2005) provide no
threshold at which integration is sufficient for a truly unified foreign policy, but it does take a
huge leap of faith to assume the unity of EU foreign policy.
Structuralists, however, fall into a trap by focusing on how to apply this old integration
literature further. Structuralists often justify their focus on member states by declaring how
unlikely it is for such a large number of states to have aligned interests. Thomas (2009) argues
that member states need to be analyzed as separate units since “easy harmony of preferences is
rare” (Thomas 2009, 341) while Jan Zielonka asserts, “It is not the alleged conflict of national
interests but the reassertion of national identities that drives common policies apart” without
addressing the question of whether or not focusing on failure is a flawed method for defining
how successful coordination is achieved (Zielonka 1998, 220). These statements violate Kenneth
Oye’s (1985) dictum, “When you observe conflict, think Deadlock—the absence of mutual
interest—before puzzling over why a mutual interest was not realized. When you observe
cooperation, think Harmony—the absence of gains from defection—before puzzling over how
states are able to transcend the temptations of defection” (Oye 1985, 7). Thomas and Zielonka
fail to abide by this rule of studying cooperation, preferring to puzzle out the problem of
cooperation or conflict. They believe they need to explain cooperation after dismissing the most
obvious explanation for cooperation.
In addition, structuralists narrow the scope of interests and policies that EU member
states could possibly be pursuing within the EU framework. Since structuralists’ explanations
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focus on how cooperation within the EU for a common foreign policy could be possible while
rejecting the simple explanation of an alignment of interests, all of their explanations rely on the
internal dynamics of the EU. In effect, the EU cannot have common external interests under
structuralist explanations since every EU foreign policy measure has to have an explanation of
internal cooperation.
Individualists suffer from neither of these faults. Since they have determined that the EU
has reached the apex of cooperation, they do not need to enter the theoretical discussion on how
cooperation is achieved and because they are focused on the EU as an actor within the
international system, they are able to focus on the EU’s potential external interests. In fact, they
have to focus exclusively on the EU’s external behavior since they have eliminated internal
discussion as an explanatory factor.
Where does this division leave us with respect to EU decision-making? First, it has to be
accepted that any explanation for EU foreign policy decision-making will make imperfect
assumptions about how to analyze the EU. All explanations will struggle with the question of
how integrated EU foreign policy is, either overlooking the incomplete nature of the integration
process in individualist explanations or providing no threshold where integration will have
turned the EU into a single actor in structuralist explanations. Each explanation will also either
opt for the structuralist framework of many actors that ignores the most obvious explanations for
cooperation or for the individualist framework of a single actor that cannot give a raison d’être
for its unit of analysis. Second, it gives an opening question for the analysis of any case study:
does the EU decide to use sanctions based on the interests of and interactions between member
states or based on the external interests of the Union as a whole? If it is the former, the most
compelling explanation will be structuralist. If it is the latter, the best explanation will be
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individualist.
Accepting Structuralism
If we forgive the faults of the structuralist claim that the EU is a group of multiple actors
interacting with a common foreign policy, the next step would be to consider what guides
member states’ interactions regarding foreign policy within the EU. There are many explanations
regarding EU decision-making as made by a group of member states, but only a few are truly
viable. Some simply do not accord with the nature of the EU and others are so weakly
structuralist that they cannot be analytically separated from individualist conceptions of EU
foreign policy and are redundant. I will first go through these weaker explanations before
discussing stronger ones for explaining EU foreign policy decision-making.
Individual States Acting on Their Own
At the extreme end of structuralism is the belief that EU member states do not, in
practice, share a common foreign policy. Oldrich Bures (2010) argues that EU decisions only
give the veneer of institutional legitimacy to individual states’ foreign policies. Member states
pick and choose what policies they support and then choose to implement only the ones they
believe serve their interests. Bures bases his belief on EU counterterrorism policy, writing that
member states do not actively debate the labeling of groups as terrorist organizations and that
actual implementation of sanctions measures against these groups is patchy at best.
However, Bures’s argument runs into many problems. First, at an empirical level,
Jacobson and Levitt (2007) point out that the EU deliberates the labeling of terrorist groups quite
vigorously. Second, lack of implementation is very different from contravening EU policy. If
only lack of implementation is an issue, then EU decisions must have enough authority over
member states that they would at least not dare countering those decisions. This indicates that
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Bures’s observations are closer to the member states feeling the pull of the “logic of
appropriateness” (see below) demanding that they support EU policy than a lack of EU authority.
Third, Bures conflates implementation with decision-making, believing that since
implementation could be spotty, it shows that individual states make decisions that are rubberstamped by the EU Council. Lack of implementation, however, could mean any number of
things, ranging from disagreement with the policy that could not be aired publicly to simple lack
of capability. Lack of implementation does not have to be intentional and even when it is, it does
not mean that the state refusing to implement the policy was apathetic during the decisionmaking process.
Power Relations
If Bures’s explanation is the most extreme of the structuralist explanations, the idea that
the most powerful states dictate foreign policy decision-making is the most intuitive. According
to Robert Keohane, “[International regimes] will be shaped largely by their most powerful
members, pursuing their own interests” (Keohane 1984, 63). This idea gives a clear picture that
any foreign policy measure will reflect the interests of the most powerful member states.
To a certain extent, power is an important factor in EU foreign policy decision-making.
Diana Panke (2012) points out that larger states have greater variety and greater breadth of
interests than smaller states. They also have a greater capacity for side payments than smaller
states, meaning they can more easily mollify member states that object to their policies.
Therefore, in the aggregate, powerful states will have influenced overall EU foreign policy the
most.
While this discussion is analytically useful, as it shows there is value in studying the
policies of the most powerful member states in every case study, it does not follow that the most
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powerful member states will hold the most weight in individual policy decisions. In her
statistical analysis of negotiation effectiveness within the EU, Panke shows that power is an
inaccurate measure of effectiveness in negotiations. If one takes two rough measures of power,
population and GDP, the correlation between power and weight in negotiations quickly breaks
down. By far the most effective state in EU negotiations is the UK, in spite of only having the
third largest population and GDP (European Commission; Panke 2012). More shocking, Sweden,
with the fourteenth largest population and sixth largest GDP, was the second most effective state
and Ireland, with the twentieth largest population and the fourteenth largest GDP was the fourth
most effective, behind France (European Commission; Panke 2012). Italy, with the fourth largest
population and GDP, is universally derided for its lack of effectiveness and is far behind smaller
states such as Denmark and Finland (European Commission; Lewis 2006; Panke 2012). In a
specific case regarding the CFSP, Annika Björkdahl (2008) shows that diplomatic skill and
dedication allowed Sweden to enshrine conflict prevention into the EU foreign policy in place of
a competing French proposal that would have made crisis management paramount. Small
member states, when dedicated to an issue, can clearly change the direction of foreign policy and
are not overly handicapped by their size. Power, therefore, does not provide a compelling
explanation for EU foreign policy decisions.
Policy Learning
If power does not give states control of EU foreign policy decisions, perhaps simple
experience with the issue does. After all, the EU introduces many of its member states to foreign
policy issues that they most likely never had to encounter before. When studying citizenship
norms in the Council of Europe, Jeffrey Checkel (2001), concluded, “Preexisting norms were
key in affecting agent willingness to comply with the injunctions of European understandings.
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The presence of such cognitive priors hindered compliance…whereas their absence promoted it
through persuasion and learning” (Checkel 2001, 581). States with little knowledge of an issue
will be much more amenable to signing onto foreign policy issues brought up by more
knowledgeable states simply because they trust them to know the issue better. Thomas (2009)
terms this process “policy learning” where states, faced with a vote on an issue for which they
have little to no comprehension, approach other states to teach them the fine details of the issue.
Learning the technical details for why the policy is being determined, most likely learning in a
way that favors the teaching state, the state chooses to comply with the wishes of the more
knowledgeable states. It is this act of compliance that distinguishes policy learning from Bures’s
apathy. States, using Checkel’s term, “role play” their role as informed, compliant voters on an
issue and approve the position of the most informed state or states (Checkel 2005). States reflect
very little on what that compliance means, choosing to simply go through the motions as directed
by more informed states.
EU foreign policy would thus be a compendium of the foreign policies of the most
informed states. If an issue had more informed member states, cooperation would be more
difficult and would become less likely that foreign policy decision would be made since more
informed member states would increase the likelihood of divergence in policy preferences.
While this explanation provides an important piece of analytical information that
uninformed member states will likely approve the positions of more informed states, it suffers
from lack of definition and is analytically indistinct from other explanations. First, more
informed member states do not automatically cause divergence. If ingrained assumptions are
common across member states, there will not be conflict and a common foreign policy will be
easily achieved. Therefore, there must be something about those ingrained beliefs that cause
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more informed member states to conflict with each other over of individual interests or
individual interpretations of norms. These concepts can be considered as analytically distinct
explanations from policy learning, making a policy learning explanation redundant.
Additionally, even if foreign policies were simply a compendium of the most informed
states’ policies, policy learning would be indistinguishable from an individualist explanation
where the EU was treated as a single foreign policy actor. The EU could set out a series of
guidelines and simply delegate the technical policy formation to the most informed states
something that occurs in individual states’ foreign policy bureaucracies as well. Checkel’s
explanation of a lack of knowledge leading to decisions within an institution provides a useful
analytical tool in informing us of the necessity to avoid examining states that are simply
disinterested, but cannot provide a useful explanation on its own.
Cooperative Bargaining
Absent a dominant logic for determining policy such as power or information, states may
simply bargain behind close doors until a common foreign policy is reached. Thomas (2009)
calls this process “cooperative bargaining”, where states enter with interests, but accept that there
will be a single foreign policy when a discussion ends. In cooperative bargaining, states
intentionally avoid making issues public and ensure that negotiation occurs in the appropriate EU
forums. These measures are taken to make sure that member states do not take advantage of each
other by applying pressure by other means. In return, states are expected to negotiate towards a
common position and are discouraged from vetoing proposed policies. The resulting policies
tend to be compromises among the interests of the many member states.
Like policy learning, however, cooperative bargaining can be folded into individualist
explanations. It reduces member states to interest groups advocating for particular policies the
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explanation slips into the individualist belief that the EU acts as a single actor. Individualists
such as Adrian Hyde-Price (2006) and Moravcsik do not preclude the possibility that the EU will
represent the interests of its member states5. They merely assume that the EU will take on a
united, externally interested foreign policy position. Cooperative bargaining fits this idea,
making individualist explanations discussed later more compelling if it is the correct model.
Three Logics
Having dismissed the weaker explanations for EU sanctions decision-making, I can now
move onto the viable structuralist explanations that can provide hypotheses. James March and
Johan Olsen (1998) define two logics for communicative actions within institutions: the logic of
consequences and the logic of appropriateness. The logic of consequences can be defined as
seeing “political order as arising from negotiation among rational actors pursuing personal
preferences or interests in circumstances in which there may be gains to coordinated action”
(March and Olsen 1998, 949). The logic of consequences thus follows the neoliberal
institutionalist paradigm of international institutions where “institutions that facilitate
cooperation do not mandate what their governments must do; rather, they help governments
pursue their own interests through cooperation” (Keohane 1984, 246). Institutions exist because
member states believe they will be able to realize common interests more effectively through the
institutions. When states communicate with each other within institutions, they are simply
revealing interests to each other to see if there is overlap between interests that can be pursued.
The logic of appropriateness pushes states to act “in accordance with rules and practices
that are socially constructed, publicly known and accepted” (March and Olsen 1998, 952). This
logic follows a more constructivist line of thought where “an evolution of cooperation might lead
5
Hyde-Price explicitly states at several points that the EU represents the interests of various
member states.
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to an evolution of community” with actors “learning to identify with each other—to see
themselves as a ‘we’ bound by certain norms” (Wendt 1994, 390). Continuous cooperation will
soon create norms strong enough that they will affect the behavior of states. This leads to two
effects. First, as Checkel argues, following the logic of appropriateness allows states to “adopt
the interests, or even possibly the identity, of the community of which they are part” (Checkel
2005, 804). States will have their identity shaped by the norms of the institution, changing their
norms and interests to be closer to those of the institution. Second, according to March and
Olsen, having this new identity and these new interests makes it so a state’s “action involves
evoking an identity or role and matching obligations of that identity or role to a specific
situation” (March and Olsen 1998, 951). With the logic of appropriateness, the community and
the institution become paramount, far above the interests and beliefs of the individual members.
Thomas Risse (2000), however, argues that the logic of appropriateness as defined by
March and Olsen actually contains two logics: the logic of appropriateness where “actors
regularly comply with norms that they have thoroughly internalized and that, therefore, are
‘taken for granted’” and the logic of appropriateness where states adopt “rule-guided behavior as
a conscious process whereby actors have to figure out the situation in which they act, apply the
appropriate norm, or choose among conflicting rules” (Risse 2000, 6). In the latter logic,
according to Risse, if the definition of a norm is contested or it is uncertain which norm is
applicable, “actors try to challenge the validity claims inherent in any causal or normative
statement and to seek a communicative consensus about their understanding of a situation as well
as justifications for the principles and norms guiding their action” (Risse 2000, 7). Relabeling
this second logic of appropriateness the logic of arguing, Risse peels it off as an analytically
separate explanation for decision-making within an institution. Unlike the logic of
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appropriateness, states do not merely offer up compliance under the logic of arguing, but seek
greater truth and clarity over what a norm actually means. States conceive of their roles
differently and decide that they have to come to a consensus if they are to form a foreign policy.
They choose to do this through deliberation and attempts at persuasion, trying to argue their way
to the correct action.
These three logics—consequences, appropriateness and arguing—are not mutually
exclusive and it is likely all three will be found in any interaction between member states of an
institution6. According to Risse (2000) and March and Olsen (1998), it is not a question of which
logic is present when a decision is made, but a question of which logic is dominant. Thus to
explain EU sanction decision-making using these logics, it is important to determine what will
occur when each logic is dominant.
The Logic of Consequences and the EU
From the definitions above, it is clear that the logic of consequences is the only one that
does not allow for a member state’s interests to change endogenously. If the member states of the
EU are guided by the logic of consequences, they will break before they bend. According to
Zielonka, member states within the EU do realize common interests and that the Union allows
for “skillful political engineering, legal arrangements, and procedural tricks” which help member
states find that common ground (Zielonka 1998, 83). These maneuvers can include side
payments, further political dialogue within the institutions and face-saving measures, but they
There are some scholars who choose to view two of the logics as consistently subordinate to the
third. March and Olsen (1998) find examples of scholars who view the logic of appropriateness
as simply a special subset of the logic of consequences and vice versa. Harald Müller (2004)
argues that the logic of arguing and the logic of consequences are both part of the logic of
appropriateness as both accept certain rules. This thesis will accept March and Olsen’s
justifications that explanations drawn from the logics of consequences and appropriateness are
separable enough that they should be treated as different categories as well as Risse’s separation
of the logic of arguing from the logic of appropriateness.
6
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only work when they mollify the interests of all the states and allow for common positions. If
this is not possible, Zielonka argues, “specify and shaping the Union’s profile is bound to be a
conflict-ridden operation” (Zielonka 1998, 83). If EU member states can realize common
interests, they will, but when they do not, the EU will become paralyzed.
The Logic of Appropriateness and the EU
If the logic of appropriateness is dominant within the EU, however, such paralysis is
impossible. As Thomas (2009) points out, under the logic of appropriateness, “although the
policy preferences of EU Member States may diverge on particular issues, they value ‘coherence
and consistency’ in EU foreign policy and value being seen as acting in accordance with the
community’s normative and policy commitments” (Thomas 2009, 345). Like the explanation of
“Cooperative Bargaining” above, EU member states are expected to come out of foreign policy
discussions with a single foreign policy for which they will advocate as a unit. However, unlike
“Cooperative Bargaining”, it provides for a possibility where one or more member states can
create a EU policy that other member states would normally reject. This process, which Thomas
calls “entrapment”, requires five conditions: clarity over what norm or policy commitment
applies to a situation; a precedent of EU investing resources and reputation into that norm or
policy commitment; the issue is relevant at the time of entrapment; the issue is brought up in an
EU forum; and the issue is discussed publicly (Thomas 2009, 346). These conditions put so
much pressure on the states that would vote against it to accept the new policy out of the desire
to maintain “coherence and consistency” that they vote for it and implement it so as to maintain
the strength of the institution.
The frequency of how often member states use entrapment to push through a policy
preference in the case studies will determine how relevant the logic of appropriateness is in
19
explaining EU decision-making. If member states rarely or never use entrapment, the logic of
appropriateness suffers the same problem as “Cooperative Bargaining” in that it is easily folded
into individualist explanations that also expect member states to act in a coherent and consistent
manner. If member states use entrapment often, then the logic of appropriateness becomes more
compelling as the dynamics of which member states are more aggressive will have a tremendous
effect on the EU’s foreign policy.
The Logic of Arguing and the EU
The dichotomy of the logic of consequences—where member states are self-regarding
and will conflict with each other whenever necessary—and the logic of appropriateness—where
coherence of the institution is paramount—leaves plenty of room for the logic of arguing. The
logic of arguing allows the institution and persuasion to change member states’ decisions, but
also allows them to contest norms and policies in search of the best decision for the EU. If the
logic of arguing is dominant, states will prove flexible to persuasive arguments, but will also try
to push their particular norms and definitions in an argument over the common foreign policy.
EU foreign policy decision-making is thus a process of truth seeking with states trying to
persuade each other of the best action on the way to reach a “reasoned consensus” (Risse 2000).
Unlike the logic of appropriateness, it allows for disagreement and has the goal of forming an
EU foreign policy is to find correct norm, definition of a norm or policy for the whole EU,
instead of simply seeking coherence and consistency. Unlike the logic of consequences, it allows
for interests to change endogenously. It also can be distinguished from the failed cooperative
bargaining explanation in that it allows for failure to reach a consensus.
Like entrapment in the logic of appropriateness, there are several preconditions for the
logic of arguing to take precedence. First, there must be a “common lifeworld” consisting “of a
20
shared culture, a common system of norms and rules perceived as legitimate, and the social
identity of actors being capable of communicating and acting” (Risse 2000, 10). In the case of
the EU, this common lifeworld is apparent and incontestable: the Treaty of European Union
defines a shared “European” culture; member states have agreed to follow a particular set of
norms and rules; and actors have chosen to participate in something that forces them to interact.
Second, member states must be able to empathize with each other, a quality lacking in the other
two logics as it runs counter to the self-interested nature of the logic of consequences and the
absolute obedience required in the logic of appropriateness (Risse 2000). While empathy is
incredibly difficult to test, it manifests itself in the ability of states to allow disagreement and
change their positions as described in the logic of arguing. Third, member states must recognize
each other as equals, something that can be said to be true within the EU foreign policy as
unanimity is required in all actions (Risse 2000). Given that two of the three preconditions
appear to automatically to be met and the third can be tested, the logic of arguing appears to
viable.
Modifying the Three Logics for EU Foreign Policy
As noted in the “Choosing a Unit of Analysis” section, one of the great weaknesses of
structuralist explanations for EU foreign policy decision-making is their reliance on internal EU
dynamics for explanations. This remains true with the three logics, which, while superior to the
other structuralist explanations put forward, still lack recognition for how actors external to the
EU decision-making process may affect states’ actions. This is problematic in considering EU
foreign policy decision-making since the EU interacts with extra-EU actors and if individual
member states are the most important deciders of EU foreign policy, their relationships with
those extra-EU actors are very important. Under the logic of consequences, external actors are
21
treated like any other exogenous factor determining states’ interests, preventing the reality that
external states are likely the deciding factor in states determining consequences. Under the logic
of appropriateness, the only reason states would move to entrap would be set EU policy towards
an external actor. External actors give a reason for entrapment in foreign policy that would not
exist otherwise. Finally, under the logic of arguing, to ignore external actors’ impact on
arguments between member states would ignore a crucial factor on what could be giving weight
to particular arguments. Given these realities, it is vital to account for external actors in EU
foreign policy decisions. After discussing individualist explanations for EU foreign policy
decisions, I will discuss how this accounting should be done and which actors should be
considered.
Accepting Individualism
If we assume the individualist claim that the EU acts as a single actor, then we have to
find a way to describe how this new actor acts. Since, as discussed above, scholars have a
difficult time defining what kind of actor the EU is, how it acts is not intrinsic to its definition as
a unit. However, since these explanations focus more on the displacement caused by EU actions
in the international system, they can be sorted according to their expectations for the EU’s
interaction with the international system. More specifically, an important question to consider
when finding explanations for EU actions in scholars’ work is whether the EU is able to define
its role in the international system or not.
This question is not specific to the EU and forms a major dividing line in international
relations theory. According to constructivist Alexander Wendt (1992) postulates, “People act
toward objects, including other actors, on the basis of the meanings that the objects have for
them” (Wendt 1992, 396-397). In the constructivist framework, actors will approach the system
22
differently based on what the system means to them. This process allows for an actor to be “selfreflective” on how it wants to act within the international system and interact with other actors.
Several authors give the EU this capability. Dimitar Bechev (2011) sees the EU as trying
to take a “gatekeeper” role, one that allows it to use its large market to grant legitimacy to some
states, but not to others. Lavenex and Schimmelfennig (2009) give the EU more activity, looking
at the EU as a rule exporter, a prescriber of remedies for the ills of other states in the
international system, particularly its neighbors. Manners goes even further, declaring that the EU
has the “ability to shape conceptions of ‘normal’ in international relations” (Manners 2002, 239).
All of these authors, though, grant the EU the power to shape its interactions with the external
environment.
According to Kenneth Waltz (1986), however, this view does not recognize how strong
the norms of the international system are. According to Waltz, the international political system
is “formed by the coaction of self-regarding units” and since these units—states in the case of the
current international system—will not “participate in the formation of a structure by which [they]
and others will be constrained”, the system will take on an anarchic structure in which states
must act in a self-help manner (Waltz 1986, 84-85). Whether or not states can cooperate in such
a system is up for debate, but regardless they will seek to improve their lot by working through
the system since “the game one has to win is defined by the structure that determines the kind of
player who is likely to prosper” (Waltz 1986, 87). Even if a supranational actor enters into the
system, Waltz argues that it will either “acquire some of the attributes and capabilities of states”
or will realize its “inability to act in important ways except with the support, or at least the
acquiescence, of the principal states concerned with the matters at hand” (Waltz 1979, 88).
These rationalist beliefs are common among individualist scholars. Moravcsik views the
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EU acting quite like any other actor within the international system, playing by the rules of the
system to increase its power and succeed. Hyde-Price explicitly rejects Manners’s belief that the
EU is a normative power, stating that the EU as actor can best be described “as an instrument for
collectively exercising hegemonic power, shaping its ‘near abroad’ in ways amenable to the
long-term strategic and economic interests of its member states” (Hyde-Price 2006, 226-227).
Stephen Brooks and William Wohlforth (2008) view the CFSP and its defense component, the
European Security and Defense Policy (ESDP), as the result of a new actor asserting itself to
increase its security after the withdraw of the American hegemon. All of these conceptions give
the idea that the EU acts much like a state would in the international system, reacting to systemic
pressures and attempting to gain security and achieve interests.
These differences create an important question to consider when working through the
case studies: if the EU acts as a single actor, does it approach the system anew or does it conform
to the rules of the system? If the EU defines how it interacts in the system, it would act on a
reflective belief of what the EU should strive to be: a protector and promoter of norms. If the
opposite is true and the EU merely reacts the old international system, the expected behavior
would not be unlike a state trying to ensure security and advance its power.
The Normative EU
When considering the EU approaching the international system as a reflective actor, two
main explanations come up for EU actions: the EU as a normative actor and the EU as a legal
actor. When I state that the EU is a normative actor, I mean that the EU acts according to and
seeks to project norms that it believes to be the standards by which all states should act. This
process blends three approaches to EU action: the concept of “normative power Europe” pushed
by Manners; external governance as described by Lavenex and Schimmelfennig; and the
24
assigning of blame argued by Oded Löwenheim (2008).
It should be noted that these scholars explicitly try to distance themselves from each
other. Manners, as noted is above, is uncomfortable with more mundane issues of EU actions and
focuses more on an overall trend of the EU’s commitment to making its external relations based
on a set of norms. Lavenex and Schimmelfennig explicitly state that the export of EU rules is
their focus, not the EU itself. They call this approach “external governance”, focusing on the
“prescriptive scope of EU policies and rules beyond formal membership” (Lavenex and
Schimmelfennig 2009, 795-796). Löwenheim, a critical theorist, focuses much more on how
actors like the EU, as a legitimate holder of norms, creates methods of evaluation to punish and
place responsibility on less powerful actors. The goals of the EU, therefore, are less wholly
normative than Manners would claim and are much more an intentional attempt to create a
power relationship than Lavenex and Schimmelfennig’s external governance approach.
These differences, for the purpose of this thesis, are unimportant. No matter the motives
to demonstrate hierarchy and control described by Löwenheim, a normative EU still determines a
set of norms by which it wants other actors to obey. Lavenex and Schimmelfennig may want to
focus on sets of rules, but they cannot escape the reality that a normative EU intentionally tries to
export these norms to other states. Finally, if Manners’s claims are to be operationalized and
tested, the focus cannot be on a potential general trend of behavior, but a series of identifiable
actions that fit into that trend. If the EU is as a normative actor, it must declare a set of norms
and prioritize those norms in foreign policy actions.
According to Manners, those norms would be seen in the EU pursuing “the consolidation
of democracy, rule of law, and respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms” in
accordance with the European Convention on Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms and the
25
Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Manners 2002, 241). The most efficient way the EU has
found for pursuing these norms, according to Lavenex and Schimmelfennig, has been to export
EU standards to other actors, trying to use the EU as a template to teach other actors how to
behave properly. This education process occurs through a series of mechanisms, the most
important being “transference” where the EU uses its financial and economic power either to
help an actor achieve EU norms or to punish an actor acting outside of norms (Manners 2002,
245). The key to this transference process is that it is a universal, unconditional goal of the EU.
There is no resource too precious and no relationship too important to keep the EU from
enforcing its norms.
There is an element of control in this behavior, as Löwenheim points out, where the EU
explicitly tries to direct the conduct of other actors. It also puts the EU in the position of the
objective “examiner”, able to decide without bias whether or not an actor is behaving properly
and makes an assumption of hierarchy of norms that places the EU at the top. The EU, under this
normative framework sets out to punish regressive behavior and behavior that intentionally
violates EU norms. The EU interprets these transgressions and determines which ones deserve
sanctions as a neutral arbiter of norms.
While Lavenex and Schimmelfennig and Löwenheim focus on the relation between
powerful actors like the EU and weaker actors like small states, Manners makes the salient point
that a normative EU, if it operated under the need to spread norms at all costs, it would focus on
all states in the system, not just the states it could easily pressure. In fact, taking this logic a step
further, the EU would likely prefer to change more powerful states to its norms than the ones it
could easily punish since this could be more effective in ensuring that the system is defined by
EU norms.
26
Manners also brings in the possibility, in his discussion of the EU’s campaign to abolish
the death penalty, that the EU will compete with other normative systems represented by actors
who also believe themselves to have normative authority. Since the EU believes itself to be an
objective authority under this formulation of the EU as a normative actor, it will try to displace
other normative systems, regarding them as illegitimate. It will thus believe itself to be within its
rights meddling in other states so as to roll back illegitimate normative frameworks.
A Legal EU?
The question becomes, however, if the EU is so dedicated to these norms, does it even
have a choice in how it acts? Manners cites several ostensibly binding documents as his source
for the EU’s norms. Why does he not take the next step and declare that the EU is not just a
normative actor, but a legal actor—i.e. an actor that acts in the international system due to a legal
obligation to act in a particular way? Source documents for the EU’s legal authority within the
union and could plausibly determine its actions outside it as well.
This idea would fit with what Kenneth Abbot and Duncan Snidal (2000) call “hard law”.
Hard law requires “legally binding obligations that are precise…and that delegate authority for
interpreting and implementing the law” (Abbot and Snidal 2000, 421). Assuming that the norms
in the treaty are legally binding, the Treaty of European Union passes the first part of this
definition. It also has the Council of the EU, which is responsible for creating foreign policy,
giving the EU a body to implement the law.
However, it quickly breaks down after that. For example, the Treaty of European Union
requires the EU “to preserve peace, prevent conflicts and strengthen international security, in
accordance with the purposes and principles of the United Nations Charter” (European Union
2010). In 2001, the UN Security Council passed Resolution 1373, obligating UN members to
27
prevent the movement of terrorists and to deny them access to resources (UN Security Council
2001). The EU interpreted these mandates to mean that it must define terrorism and label foreign
terrorist organizations (Council of the EU 2001b). However, the groups that were labeled
terrorist organizations were never given actual criteria for why they were specifically labeled
terrorist organizations and when the European Court of Justice, the alleged interpreter of the law
under Abbot and Snidal’s definition, challenged the labels, the Council of the EU refused to
remove the groups from the list of terrorist organizations (European Center for Constitutional
and Human Rights 2011). The EU’s foreign policy decisions in this case were not precise in their
legal support and, in practice, did not delegate the practice of interpretation. The EU’s foreign
policy obligations cannot fall under hard law and thus the EU cannot be considered a legal actor.
The Rational EU
Unlike the authors arguing that the EU acts as a normative actor, Ruffa, Hyde-Price and
Moravcsik argue that the EU is a rationalist actor, following Waltz’s argument that supranational
organizations only gain traction in a world of states when they start to take on the characteristics
of states. The primary concern for the EU in this view is security and stability on its near abroad,
represented in the European Neighborhood Policy (see Chapter Five) (Hyde-Price 2006; Ruffa
2011). These states could provide entry points for criminal organizations, refugees and terrorists,
making them security risks with which the EU has to engage and ensure remains secure.
Beyond the near abroad, rationalist scholars generally agree that the EU interacts in a
larger international system with many great powers, such as the United States, China and Russia.
Michael E. Smith (2011), Joslyn Howorth (2010) and Moravcsik see the EU as a liberal actor
searching for positive-sum outcomes in interactions with these great powers. The EU, according
to these authors, is searching for a “global grand bargain” that will lead to cooperation between
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the great powers over global issues that affect the EU (Howorth 2010). This viewpoint should
not be confused for idealist notions of global governance, but is similar to the logic of
consequences described above. The EU would seek common interests with these great power
states so as to advance goals for mutual gains in areas such as protecting the environment,
liberalizing global trade and fighting terrorism (Howorth 2010).
Ruffa and Hyde-Price take the opposite view that the EU is competing with these other
great powers for security and influence, not just in the neighborhood. The EU thus becomes
something of the typical realist actor that is mostly concerned with distribution of capabilities
and views the world in zero-sum interactions.
Missing from any of these declarations of the EU’s need to secure and influence its
neighborhood while it competes or cooperates at the systemic level is any connection between
the two areas of interest for the EU as an actor. Ruffa makes the only acknowledgement that the
EU may have larger actors in mind than the small ones in its neighborhood when it makes
decisions when he writes that EU actions in Lebanon involves “balancing with the United States”
(Ruffa 2011, 576). However, in the same paragraph, he fails to make the connection that the
EU’s lack of action towards Hezbollah may relate to the EU’s relations with Iran. Hyde-Price
acknowledges that the EU and Russia backed different parties in the Ukrainian presidential
elections, but treats this as mere happenstance where EU policies in the Ukraine were not made
with any regard for Russia. Considering that either view of the EU trying to cooperate with
Russia to solve global issues or competing with Russia turns Russia into a very important factor,
this is an egregious oversight.
Keeping the issues of security, stability and EU influence separate from the issue of the
EU’s interactions with other large states seems foolish and limiting on research. It can lead to
29
awkward questions, such as in Ruffa’s piece, where the EU’s attitude towards Hezbollah goes
unexplained. It also allows authors such as Hyde-Price to leave alone arguments that can
strengthen their position such as linking the EU’s push for influence with its competition with
Russia. As an analytical tool, analyzing the EU’s policy towards target states or organizations in
terms of how that policy may affect the EU’s relations with a great power can add a great deal to
any study of EU decision-making.
Bringing in Powerful External States
So far in this chapter, I have discussed the basic division in the EU foreign policy
literature between strucutralist and individualist scholars and discussed various explanations for
EU foreign policy decision-making within these two camps. Within the structuralist camp of
scholars who believe that EU foreign policy decisions must be studied by considering the
dynamics among the individual member states, the most compelling explanations for how
decisions were made came from three logics suggested by March and Olsen and Risse: the logic
of consequences suggesting that member states agree to foreign policies based on their
assessments of consequences for themselves; the logic of appropriateness suggesting that
member states agree to foreign policies in order to retain unity in the community and maintain
community norms and that some member states may use that need to retain unity to push through
a foreign policy other with which other member states may not agree; the logic of arguing
suggesting that member states engage in truth-seeking behavior to find the most appropriate
definition of a norm, norm or policy for the EU’s action. However, these three logics all failed to
address the weakest part of the structuralist position on how EU foreign policy decisions should
be explained in that they generally ignore external influence on EU decisions.
For this reason, I suggested a modification of the structuralist arguments to specifically
30
consider how external actors affected the three logics. I suggested that, if member states follow
the logic of consequences, they would consider the consequences of the EU’s actions on their
relations with external states. I also suggested that, if the logic of appropriateness were the
dominant logic, relations with external states would give member states the reason to entrap
fellow member states. Finally, I suggested that, if member states followed the logic of arguing,
external states’ influence could place weight on which arguments were considered more valid.
In my discussion of individualist arguments, I divided individualists’ approaches to the
EU’s behavior as a single actor into constructivist and rationalist camps. From the constructivist
discussion, the most viable explanation proposed was that the EU acted as a normative actor,
seeking to promote and enshrine EU norms in the international system and made foreign policy
decisions based on those goals. In its interactions with external states, a normative EU most
commonly uses a mechanism called transference to cajole other states into acting according to
EU norms. While most scholars focus on how a normative EU uses this process to cajole weak,
small states into acting according to EU norms, Manners points out that the EU would seek to
change the norms of large, powerful actors as well and would compete with rival normative
systems. I extended this discussion further by suggesting that a normative EU might even place a
higher priority on extending its norms to larger, more powerful states, since this act would make
it more likely that such norms were integrated into the workings of the international system.
Within the rationalist discussion, there appeared to be a consensus that the EU acts for
two broad interests: security and stability in its neighborhood and greater global influence among
great powers. On this second issue, the rationalist scholars were divided. One group of rationalist
scholars, including Moravcsik, Smith and Howorth, believes that the EU worked with other great
powers of the international system to see if they could come together to solve particular issues
31
about which the EU was concerned. These scholars, working from a more neoliberal perspective,
believe that the EU is mostly concerned with absolute gains and seeks to cooperate with other
great powers in the international system. The other group of rationalist scholars, comprising of
Hyde-Price and Ruffa, see the EU’s actions as coming from a more realist perspective. The EU,
according to these scholars, competes to increase its own power and influence at the expense of
other states.
None of the rationalist scholars made the connection between the two broad EU interests
where the EU would consider the reactions of other great powers when making decisions in its
neighborhood. None of them broadened it to a larger policy where the EU might be more
concerned about the reactions of great powers in the international system than any other issue. I
found this omission to be a critical one, as it left many of the scholars, especially Ruffa, with
unanswered questions. It appeared that this discussion of how the EU reacted to other great
powers should be taken into account when discussing EU foreign policy decision-making.
Through this summary, we can see a clear evolution in the discussion of how external
actors affect EU foreign policy decision-making. It started with the addendum to the structuralist
arguments stating that EU member states take external actors into account when voting for a
foreign policy measure, continued to the normative notion that the EU cared more about the
norms of powerful states than weak states and competed against other norm systems and finally
evolved into the modification of the rationalist discussion that the EU cares more about great
powers when it makes foreign policy decision-making than anything else. I argue that this final
position, where external great powers matter the most, can be applied backwards to all of the
explanations for EU foreign policy decision-making. When considering the structuralist
arguments, it makes sense that of all the external influences, great powers would affect member
32
states’ considerations of foreign policy the most, regardless of the logic, as these great powers
could give the greatest benefits and inflict the greatest costs on individual member states. When
considering a normative EU, if the goal is truly to change the nature of the international system
according to EU norms, changing the norms of great powers would matter much more than
changing the norms of a small, insignificant actor and great powers’ rival normative systems
would pose a far greater threat to EU norms than the deviation of small actor. For these reasons,
the most valuable way to study EU foreign policy decisions is through the frame of how they are
affected by powerful external states, since it is this mechanism that can provide the most
explanatory power for EU decisions.
Explaining EU Sanctions Decision-Making
Given this new addition that the EU foreign policy decision-making is affected most by
the influence of great powers, it is now important to apply this addition and the explanations
discussed above to the subject of this thesis, EU sanctions decision-making. In this section, I will
take the viable explanations in their now modified form and create hypotheses for what
determines the EU’s decision to sanction an exterior actor.
Structuralist Hypotheses
Starting with the three logics from the structuralist camp, the emphasis on member states’
individual decisions suggests that individual member states will each approach an external great
power in different ways. States that value their relationship with that external great power will
show sympathy towards the interests of that external great power. In contrast, states that have a
hostile relationship with that great power will either disregard the interests of that external great
power or actively try to hurt that external great power. States that do not have friendly or hostile
relations are discounted as not being invested in the issue.
33
Applying these categories to the logic of consequences, friendly member states will only
support sanctions on the target state if they have no negative consequences for their relationship
with the external great power interested in the target state. Hostile member states will support
sanctions without regard for the consequences of their relationship with that external great power
or to actively damage that external great power. From these two viewpoints, the following
hypotheses can be deduced:
Hypothesis 1: Given that the logic of consequences dominates EU member states’ foreign policy
decision-making:
1) If at least one member state has friendly relations with an external great power interested
in the target actor, sanctions against the target actor will only be instituted if they do not
hurt that member state’s relationship with the external great power
2) If all member states have hostile relations with that external great power, the decisions on
whether or not to institute sanctions against the target actor will be made without regard
for the external great power or to damage that external great power.
The logic of appropriateness explanation approaches the issue of hostile and friendly
member states differently, since it only manifests itself when member states choose to be active.
Under the logic of appropriateness, a member states will defer to individualist behaviors by
default. It is only in cases where member states have divergent opinions on whether to impose
sanctions where the logic of appropriateness becomes a factor. In these cases, states may try to
push through their policies through entrapment, given that the necessary conditions have been
met (see “Logic of Appropriateness and the EU”, p. xx). Since entrapment is an aggressive,
active step and member states care most about how EU foreign policy affects their relationships
with external great powers, the entrapping member state must care about the consequences of
that policy on its relationship the external great power. This reality leads to these hypotheses:
Hypothesis 2a: Given the logic of appropriateness dominates EU members’ decision-making,
the decision on whether or not to impose sanctions on the target state will be deferred to
individualist interests if there are not sufficient conditions for entrapment.
Hypothesis 2b: Given the logic of appropriateness dominates EU members’ decision-making
34
and there are sufficient conditions for entrapment:
1) If the entrapping member state(s) is friendly with an interested external great power, it
will only entrap other member states to push through sanctions against the target actor if
it believes these actions will have positive consequences for its relationship with the
external great power.
2) If the entrapping member state(s) is hostile towards an interested external great power, it
will only entrap member states to push sanctions against the target actor if it believes
these actions will damage the external great power.
Under the logic of arguing, whether or not a member state is hostile or friendly will
determine how they view the interested external great power’s weight on the truth-seeking
debate. Friendly member states will find external great power’s positions on sanctions to be a
compelling factor to accept a decision that they otherwise believed to be a poor decision, while
hostile member states will find the external great power’s positions to be a perturbing factor from
accepting a decision they otherwise find compelling. This external great power becomes the key
factor in deciding what is truth and what is not under the logic of arguing. This is helpful in
reaching a consensus if all member states have the same relationship with that external great
power, but is more likely to cause paralysis if they have differing relationships, giving three
hypotheses:
Hypothesis 3: Given the logic of arguing dominates EU members’ decision-making:
1) If member states have friendly relations with the interested great power, they will place
sanctions on the target actor only if the interested great power approves.
2) If member states have hostile relations with the interested great power, they will decide to
place sanctions on the target actor if sanctions damage the interested great power.
3) Member states will not sanction a target actor if they have differing relationships with an
interested great power.
Individualist Hypotheses
Individualist explanations lend themselves better to hypotheses in that only the EU is
considered and with configurations of member states. They are also more developed towards the
discussion of how the EU will change policy based on an external great power, meaning the
35
translations from the schools of thought to hypothesis require fewer mechanisms like considering
hostile or friendly relations with an external great power. If the EU is a normative actor, it will
use sanctions in a way that will expand its norms and counter the spread of opposing normative
frameworks. It will prioritize the spreading of its norms to external great powers, but, failing this,
it will try to guard against these great powers spreading their norms. This leads to three
hypotheses:
Hypothesis 4: Given the EU acts as a normative single actor:
1) The EU will sanction or not sanction a target actor if it helps the proliferation of EU
norms in an external great power.
2) The EU will sanction a target actor if the target actor is regressing from EU norms
towards the norms of another great power.
3) The EU will not sanction a target actor adopting its norms over the norms of an external
great power, whatever other violations of norms occur.
If the EU acts in a more rationalist framework, whether or not it imposes sanctions on the
target actor will depend on its approach towards other great powers. If it is trying to cooperate
with other great powers for absolute gains in EU interests, it will use sanctions in a way that will
make this cooperation more feasible. If it is competing with these great powers, it will use
sanctions in a way that will expand its power and influence at the expense of those other great
powers. This leads to two sets of hypotheses. First, if the EU is trying to cooperate with other
great powers other great powers for absolute gains:
Hypothesis 5: Given the EU acts as a rational actor for absolute gains:
1) The EU will place sanctions on target actors in order to promote cooperation with great
powers for EU interests and will not place sanctions on target actors if they jeopardize
that cooperation.
Second, if the EU is competing with external great powers for relative gains:
Hypothesis 6: Given the EU acts as a rational actor for relative gains:
1) The EU will place sanctions on target actors that are loyal to other great powers in the
hope of causing a change in the target actor’s behavior to reflect EU interests.
36
2) The EU will not place sanctions on target actors that are friendly to EU interests out of
fear that they will turn to other great powers.
With these six sets of hypotheses, we have a series of possible explanation that can be
tested for explaining EU sanctions.
37
Table 1: Explanations and Hypotheses
Camp
School of Thought Hypotheses
Hypothesis 1-1: If at least one member state has friendly relations with an
external great power interested in the target actor, sanctions against the
target actor will only be instituted if they do not hurt that member state’s
Logic of
relationship with the external great power
Consequences
Hypothesis 1-2: If all member states have hostile relations with that
external great power, the decisions on whether or not to institute sanctions
against the target actor will be made without regard for the external great
power or to damage that external great power.
Hypothesis 2a: Given the logic of appropriateness dominates EU
members’ decision-making, the decision on whether or not to impose
sanctions on the target state will be deferred to individualist interests if
there are not sufficient conditions for entrapment.
Hypothesis 2b-1: If the entrapping member state(s) is friendly with an
interested external great power, it will only entrap other member states to
Logic of
Structuralist
push through sanctions against the target actor if it believes these actions
Appropriateness
will have positive consequences for its relationship with the external great
power.
Hypothesis 2b-2: If the entrapping member state(s) is hostile towards an
interested external great power, it will only entrap member states to push
sanctions against the target actor if it believes these actions will damage
the external great power.
Hypothesis 3-1: If member states have friendly relations with the
interested great power, they will place sanctions on the target actor only if
the interested great power approves.
Hypothesis 3-2: If member states have hostile relations with the interested
Logic of Arguing
great power, they will decide to place sanctions on the target actor if
sanctions damage the interested great power.
Hypothesis 3-3: Member states will not sanction a target actor if they have
differing relationships with an interested great power.
Hypothesis 4-1: The EU will sanction or not sanction a target actor if it
helps the proliferation of EU norms in an external great power.
Hypothesis 4-2: The EU will sanction a target actor if the target actor is
The Normative EU regressing from EU norms towards the norms of another great power.
Hypothesis 4-3: The EU will not sanction a target actor adopting its norms
over the norms of an external great power, whatever other violations of
norms occur.
Individualist
Hypothesis 5-1: The EU will place sanctions on target actors in order to
The Cooperative
promote cooperation with great powers for EU interests and will not place
Rationalist EU
sanctions on target actors if they jeopardize that cooperation.
Hypothesis 6-1: The EU will place sanctions on target actors that are loyal
to other great powers in the hope of causing a change in the target actor’s
The Competitive
behavior to reflect EU interests.
Rationalist EU
Hypothesis 6-2: The EU will not place sanctions on target actors that are
friendly to EU interests out of fear that they will turn to other great powers.
38
Chapter Three
Research Design
Having gone through the literature on EU foreign policy decision-making, it now
becomes important to test the explanations and hypotheses gleaned from the literature. This
chapter will focus on how this testing can be accomplished through a two-step process. First, it
will discuss possible indicators for the explanations and hypotheses summarized in Table 1.
These indicators will try to describe conditions where explanations can be supported or refuted,
helping our understanding of what to look for in individual cases. Second, it will discuss the
process of case selection to test the hypotheses in this thesis. This section will essentially
describe why the four case studies of Chapters Four and Five were chosen to test the hypotheses.
Indicators for Hypotheses
Since these hypotheses are quite convoluted, reflecting the complicated nature of this
question, it is important to point out indicators that will appear in the case studies if particular
explanations are correct. The most obvious and important divide being between structuralist and
individualist explanations, indicators for each camp could be very useful, especially since clear
confirmation of whether the EU acts a single actor or a group of actors could eliminate three
hypotheses from discussion. For this reason, I will start with a discussion of indicators that
would point towards one of the two camps and then move on to discussing indicators for
individual explanations within the each camp.
Showing Individualism and Structuralism
Ostensibly, the distinction between whether the EU acts according to strucutralist logics
or individualist explanations should be very easy to tell. Clear signs of divisions between the
39
member states over whether or not to impose sanctions on a target actor should indicate
structuralist behavior and the absence of those signs should indicate individualist behavior.
However, this is only partially true in the structuralist logics and is not necessarily true under
individualist explanations. Clear divisions between member states only indicate the logic of
consequences if the result is deadlock and no sanctions are imposed or an exogenous event
changes how a member state views the consequences of sanctions and makes them cooperate
with the other member states. Divisions only support the logic of arguing if there is deadlock or
the influence of the external great power on the argument papers over those decisions and allow
for a decision to be made. Divisions can support the logic of appropriateness, but only as long as
the display of divisions does not undermine the EU’s image as a single foreign policy actor. The
same is true under individualist explanations. Thus, divisions can be indicators of structuralism,
but only if they are precursors to deadlock, unity after an exogenous event or unity after the
influence of an external great power on the argument.
Perhaps a more telling indicator will be what EU member states do if they are in a role of
leadership within the EU, specifically the Rotating Presidency of the EU Council. The Rotating
Presidency places a single member state in charge of the EU Council’s agenda for six months
and makes its officials some of the leading negotiators for the EU abroad outside of the High
Representative. If a member state used its position to provide a continuous EU position, this
would indicate that individualist explanations would be the most useful. If EU foreign policy
behavior changed with each member state in the Rotating Presidency, it would indicate that
structuralism would be stronger.
There exists the possibility that either of these indicators will not show up in the case
studies. This would occur for two reasons. First, the only times I would be able to see divisions is
40
if they were public. Private divisions behind close doors in Brussels could also hold tremendous
explanatory power, but may not be reported. The lack of divisions in a particular case study also
does not rule out the strucuralist logics. It just would mean that there would be no tangible proof.
Second, case studies may have few interested states that held the Rotating Presidency during the
time under examination. These member states’ behavior can serve as an indicator, but could be
unreliable, meaning that I will have to rely on the indicators of particular explanations if these
particular indicators are of no help.
Structuralist Indicators
If it can be established, or at least not refuted, that the EU should be analyzed through a
structuralist framework, it will become important to find indicators of which logics may be
dominant. This will be analyzed by looking at the member states, but, importantly, not all of the
member states. As established in Chapter Two7, what states make decisions in EU foreign policy
if structuralism is correct will likely depend on two factors: power and interest. Since powerful
states have the greatest breadth of foreign policy interests, they are more likely to affect foreign
policy decisions than other actors, though not necessarily be the primary decision-makers. For
this reason, in every case study, I will discuss the decisions and behavior of the four states that
have both the largest populations and GDPs in the EU: Germany, France, the UK and Italy. In
addition to these states, I will also discuss the decisions and behavior of states that show acute
interest in each particular case study. These states will vary from case-to-case, but there may be
overlap.
As discussed above, divisions between member states that lead to deadlock would
support both the logic of consequences and the logic of arguing. Since the logic of
See “Power Relations” on page 12 and “Policy Learning” on page 13
7
41
appropriateness relies on member states wanting to maintain the image of a united foreign
policy, deadlock would disprove the logic of appropriateness being dominant.
The simple agreement to institute sanctions or not institute sanctions would mean nothing
for any of the three logics. All three allow for the possibility that member states simply agree on
an issue and will not conflict. This event would neither prove nor disprove any of the hypotheses,
but would open the possibility that if an individualist explanation finds support, it would be more
compelling than any strucutralist explanation. If a clear decision has been reached on whether or
not to impose sanctions after a public disagreement has been established, however, the
mechanism for how that occurred is vital.
If the logic of consequences is dominant, an exogenous event must have occurred to
change how a member state evaluates the consequences of sanctions in its relationship with the
external great power interested in the target state. Otherwise, states are changing their positions
due to endogenous processes, violating the logic of consequences.
If the logic of arguing is dominant, the interested external great power will have made a
clear position that will have helped break the potential deadlock, as this statement will weigh on
what is the superior position for the EU to take. Notably, while the logic allows for
circumstances to change positions like the logic of consequences, if circumstances are the only
defining factors, there would be little need for the logic of arguing. Therefore, only if there has
been a clear truth seeking effort can the logic of arguing be proven, eve if that process is simply
solved by the opinion of the interested external great power.
If the logic of appropriateness is dominant, the state(s) that originally opposed the final
decision, but found itself entrapped will make a change in position, but will not explain why. The
entrapping state(s) will have made the decision to entrap based on its evaluation of what
42
sanctions will do to its relationship with the external great power.
Individualist Indicators
On the other hand, if it individualist explanations remain viable, certain indicators must
be present for them to be supported. If the EU is a normative actor, the necessary, if cosmetic, act
will be the citation of norms when pressing sanctions against the target actor or describing why
the target actor does not violate norms in a meaningful enough way to induce sanctions. This is
not sufficient to prove the EU acts normatively—talk is cheap—but it is needed to show that the
EU cognitively thinks of itself as a normative actor.
Another indicator of the normative EU will be if the interested external great power
reforms itself or discusses reforms in some way to show that it is moving towards EU norms
after a decision on sanctions is reached. The target actor is frankly irrelevant in this indicator as
the EU is more interested in great powers reforming themselves since that would help EU norms
penetrate the system far more effectively. This is not necessary for the EU to be considered a
normative actor, but it would be a powerful show of support for the explanation that the EU acts
in a normative fashion.
Finally, the normative EU will sanction target actors that adopt the norms of a rival great
power, hoping to subvert their authority. The EU seeks to punish states that regress from EU
norms or show constant defiance of EU norms in preference for another normative framework.
The EU may even use sanctions to collapse a regime in the target actor so as to allow the rise of
a regime that will further comply with EU norms.
The rationalist frameworks give simpler indicators. If the EU is a cooperative rationalist
actor focused on absolute gains, it will try to avoid conflicts with other great powers. It will
decide whether or not to sanction target actors based on the positions of those other great powers
43
and will avoid being on the opposite side of a conflict in the target actor from an external great
power. Conflicting with other great powers could impede cooperation with the EU on issues of
greater global interests and issues over the target actor are simply too trivial for the EU to
sacrifice greater interests.
However, if the EU is a competitive rationalist actor focused on relative gains, it will
actively try to conflict with other great powers, trying to lessen their influence and gain more for
its own. It will also contest any attempt by other great powers to lessen the EU’s influence,
trying as hard as it can to hold on to its influence and power.
The triangle relationship that these indicators create mean that it will be important to
study three broad relationships at the time of sanctions or potential sanctions in each case study:
the relationship between the EU and the target state; the relationship between the target state and
the interested external great power; and the relationship between the external great power and the
EU. All three of these relationships can refute or support each individualist explanation and need
to be examined.
Case Selection
The universe of cases for this study includes all states and organizations that have been
placed under economic or financial sanctions since 1999. I am choosing 1999 as the moment that
one could truly speak of an EU foreign policy, as in May 1999 Javier Solana, the first holder of
the Office of the High Representative, began service as an EU “foreign minister”. I am also
choosing economic and financial sanctions because, as discussed in Chapter One, the EU’s
greatest power lies in its economic and financial strength. These criteria eliminate sanctions
before the EU had a specified international representative, sanctions against individuals without
an official association with an organization or state, sanctions against the freedom of movement
44
of particular leaders such as those of Transdniestria and arms embargoes against states like
Eritrea. Since the purpose of studying EU sanctions decision-making is to evaluate the decisionmaking behind its most impactful foreign policy tool against international actors—preventing
access to the EU’s economy and major financial markets—these cases will not help this study.
Potential cases can be further culled by the need for negative cases—cases where
sanctions were not instituted—comparable to positive cases—cases where sanctions were
instituted. This is due to structuralist explanations require negative cases for the appearance of
some indicators—especially deadlock—and individualist cases needing to be robust enough to
explain why the EU did not implement sanctions as well as when the EU did implement
sanctions. To prevent case-specific variables from creating difficulties, there should be some
similarity between positive and negative cases. Therefore, all positive cases that do not have a
parallel negative case cannot be used as case studies.
The need for parallel cases has several implications. First, the behavior of the target actor
that provoked or potentially could have provoked sanctions must be the same across the positive
and negative cases. While EU sanctions against Iran due to its nuclear program may give insights
into how the EU determines how to use sanctions, the lack of a parallel negative case in the
specified timeframe makes it inappropriate for this study. Second, the two cases should have
similar past relationships with the EU and its member states. For example, in both Zimbabwe
(positive) and Rwanda (negative), opposition forces have repeatedly been repressed and jailed by
Presidents Robert Mugabe and Paul Kagame respectively, but Rwanda is a former Belgian
colony that has entered the British Commonwealth while Zimbabwe is a former British colony
that has left the British Commonwealth. Third, neither case should be dealt with under a different
EU policy area than the other. Syria (positive) and Bahrain (negative) after the Arab Spring both
45
provide cases of authoritarian regimes using violent means to put down protests against their
rule, but Syria is included under the European Neighborhood Policy (ENP)—a policy
specifically targeting development of the EU’s neighborhood—while Bahrain is merely another
state according to the EU.
Beyond these requirements, the pairs of case studies should be differentiable enough that
results across the pairs cannot be narrowed down to a narrower explanation, but to a broad
discussion of EU behavior. For this reason, I have chosen two pairs of case studies that come
from two very different policy areas: counterterrorism and the ENP. First, I will compare
Mujahideen-e Khalq (MEK) (positive) and Hezbollah (negative), two groups that have been
labeled as terrorists at some point by some state that are of great interest to Middle East regional
power Iran with members living in the EU, but active in the Middle East. Second, I will compare
Belarus after the 2006 presidential election (positive) and Ukraine after the jailing of Yulia
Tymoshenko in 2011 (negative), two ex-Soviet, gas transporting states under the ENP that are
also part of the Commonwealth of Independent States directed by Russia where governments
suppressed opposition forces. Patterns across these two disparate pairs should be compelling
enough to assert a strong, generalizable trend in EU sanctions decision-making.
It should be noted that these case studies do not control for number of member states.
MEK was sanctioned as a terrorist group in 2002 when there were 15 member states; the period
where Hezbollah came under the most scrutiny spanned two enlargements taking the EU from 15
to 27 member states; the sanctions after the 2006 Belarusian presidential election involved 25
member states; the cases of the jailing of Yulia Tymoshenko; and all sanctions that happen in the
future will involve at least 28 member states with Croatia joining on July 1, 2013 and candidates
for membership including Iceland, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia and Turkey.
46
For the purposes of this thesis, the number of member states will be treated as a
negligible variable. There are several reasons for this decision. First, controlling for number of
member states constricts the number of possible cases. Cases could only be drawn after January
1, 2007—Romanian and Bulgarian accession—between May 1, 2004 and January 1, 2007—the
period after the Eastern Enlargement of 10 member states, but before Romania and Bulgaria
joined—or between May 1999 and May 1, 2004—before the enlargement from 15 to 25
members. These are very small periods to draw cases from and could prevent analytically useful
cases from being usable.
Second, all hypotheses are robust against changes in the number of member states. The
three structuralist logics only focus on powerful and interested member states. The four powerful
member states are kept constant and the interested member states would fluctuate across case
studies no matter what. The individualist explanations intentionally ignore dynamics between
member states, meaning that new member states would not change the EU’s behavior in any way
besides creating an exogenous change to the EU’s border.
47
Chapter Four
Blacklisting
The EU’s relationship with terrorism is an odd one. The Union contains several member
states that were plagued by terrorism for decades, but it took an attack against the United States
to force the EU to adapt a common counterterrorism policy. Before the September 11, 2001
attacks, in spite of the terrorism that had plagued the UK, Spain and Germany among others for
much of the post-World War II period, terrorism was a low-priority issue on the EU level. The
main counterterrorism cooperation agreement in Europe before 2001, the Trevi Agreement of
1976, was intentionally kept outside of the European Communities’ framework (Argomaniz
2009). It was mostly treated as a default policy that EU member states that believed
counterterrorism to be a priority would legislate against it and those who did not would ignore it
(Argomaniz 2009). On September 10, 2001, only six member states out of fifteen had
counterterrorism legislation; there had been a total of one informal meeting on the issue since the
signing of the Treaty of Maastricht in 1992 (Argomaniz 2009).
After the September 11, 2001 attacks by al Qaeda in the United States, the EU quickly
brought its counterterrorism frameworks up to speed. An extraordinary meeting of the Justice
and Home Affairs formation of the EU Council was held on September 20, where the 15 member
states agreed to form “a common definition of a terrorist act and laying down common criminal
sanctions” for terrorist groups and individuals (EU Council 2001a). On December 27, the EU
Council approved Common Position 2001/931/CFSP, which defined terrorism as “intentional
acts, which given its nature or its context, may seriously damage a country or an international
organization” and are committed to intimidate, coerce or destabilize a country or international
organization (EU Council 2001b). It also created a common list of individual terrorists and
48
terrorist organizations to label individuals suspected of participating in terrorist acts as defined
above. Individuals and groups on this list would be subjected to the freezing of assets in the EU,
denied economic and financial services within the EU and monitored by all EU member states
(EU Council 2001b). While member states could have their own lists to supplement the EU’s
list, they were required to implement financial sanctions against groups that were on the EU list.
Like all sanctions, however, “blacklisted” groups had to be accepted as terrorist groups by all
member states.
This list will be the concern of this chapter. While the definition would appear to be quite
clear, it is not universally applied to violent groups and can have an oddly arbitrary quality to it.
The two case studies in this chapter reflect this inconsistency. The first group under study,
Mujahedeen-e Khalq (MEK), had renounced violence 15 months before it was sanctioned in
May 2002. The second group, Hezbollah, has never been blacklisted, in spite of its frequent
violent acts within its native Lebanon and internationally, most commonly against Israel.
The two groups have two features in common and one crucial difference that makes them
important case studies for the research question of this thesis. First, both have significant
presence in Europe, meaning they have the ability to lobby the EU and its member states and the
EU is quite aware of their existence. Second, both are closely tied to Iran, MEK being an Iranian
organization and Hezbollah receiving much of its funding from the Islamic regime. However, as
a crucial difference, MEK is an opposition group trying to overthrow the Islamic Republic of
Iran and institute a secular state, while Hezbollah is a staunch ally of Iran and will frequently
serve as Iran’s proxy in attacks against Israel and other states.
Thus this chapter will consider the EU’s decision on whether or not to label the two
groups as terrorist organizations and how Iran may have affected that decision. The section on
49
MEK will mostly focus on the relationships between the EU and its member states, MEK and
Iran leading up to the 2002 sanctions. Since the non-labeling of Hezbollah has gone on for a
longer period, it will be more general, speaking broadly of the relations between the EU,
Hezbollah and Iran over the last decade. The chapter will conclude by analyzing the two cases to
discern how Iran affected the EU’s decision on blacklisting these two organizations.
Mujahedeen-e Khalq
Tehran University students founded MEK to resist the government of Shah Mohammad
Reza Pahlavi in 1965. The group’s ideology at its founding was a blend of Marxism and
Islamism8, distinguishing it from other leftist Iranian resistance groups in its belief that the
government of Iran should be Islamic (Abrahamian 1989, 93). The group became active in 1971,
performing various attacks against government and business targets (National Consortium for the
Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism (START).
The relationship between MEK and other Islamic rebels was always uneasy. Especially
fraught were its relations with the anti-regime clerics led by Ruhollah Khomeini. While both
resisted the Shah, Khomeini found MEK’s criticisms of the clergy as an ally of the upper classes
to be intolerable (Abrahamian 1989, 150). He also found the Marxist elements of their ideology
to be misguided and out-of-line with his own views of the world (Abrahamian 1989, 150). The
meetings between the MEK leadership and Khomeini caused a rift within MEK between
Marxists who had become disillusioned with Islam and the members who were unwilling to give
up the Islamist element (Abrahamian 1989, 162-163). After a falling out, the two sides split into
two different organizations with the Marxists inherited the MEK title and turned the organization
in a more secular direction (Abrahamian 1989, 163).
The name Mujahedeen-e Khalq reflects this blend, translating roughly to the “People’s Holy
Warriors”
8
50
It was at this point that Masoud Rajavi would become the leader of MEK and drive it in
the direction of an opposition personality cult as opposed to an ideological movement. When
Rajavi took over in 1979, the movement rewrote its agenda, emphasizing Marxist elements while
changing its Islamist background into a support for Marxist principles (Abrahamian 1989, 184185). This Marxist agenda would inevitably bring the group into conflict with Khomeini,
culminating in a fight over the new constitution where MEK called for a boycott of the
referendum in December 1979 approving the constitution and Khomeini stated that all “good
Muslims” should vote for it (Abrahamian 1989, 197). The two sides continued to publicly clash
through June 1981 when mass protests were put down by the Islamic regime and Rajavi fled to
Paris (Abrahamian 1989, 243).
Once in Paris, MEK became more and more unmoored from its original ideology and
concentrated around Rajavi’s leadership. Rajavi played down both the Marxist and religious
elements of the group’s founding in Western newspapers so as to appeal for Western support
(Abrahamian 1989, 245). Rajavi slowly made the group more hierarchical and more dependent
on his authority, so that, by 1987, Rajavi held unlimited power over the group’s activities. The
nature of the group’s activities changed with the change in leadership. Solely attacking targets in
Iran before, the group expanded to Iranian diplomatic targets abroad and started using more
bombings as opposed to assassinations (START). Most glaringly, a movement that had always
prized domestic support within Iran and sought to free Iran from entangling alliances before
began appealing to Western audiences and allied itself with Saddam Hussein during the Iran-Iraq
War (Abrahamian 1989, 245-251).
After the Iran-Iraq War ended in 1988, MEK began a fight to stay relevant. Dependent on
Hussein for basing, weapons and funds, they became a useful tool for the Iraqi regime to bother
51
its hostile neighbor (Peterson 2002). In Europe, the group’s leadership coalesced in exile in Paris
while holding a significant presence in Germany, the UK and Italy, advocating the governments
of all these states to support their efforts (Drozdiak 1997). In February 2001, MEK performed its
last attack before publicly renouncing violence later that year, before the September 11, 2001
attacks that would led to the creation of the EU blacklist (Norris 2008).
This renunciation of violence could only have made it more surprising when the EU
updated its list of terrorist organizations to have it include MEK in May 2002. While it had not
been long since MEK’s last attack, it still had been nonviolent for 15 months and had not
attacked a target on European soil since 1992 (START). This case study will examine the
process by which these sanctions were placed on MEK, starting with the EU’s relationship as a
whole with MEK, important individual member states’ relationship with MEK and the EU’s
relationship with MEK’s powerful target state, Iran, leading up to the designation. Unlike other
case studies, this one will not include a more detailed discussion of the relationship between the
target actor and the great power because, in this case, it is mostly self-explanatory: MEK wants
to overthrow the Islamic regime in Iran and the Iranian state wants MEK quashed.
The EU and MEK
Before September 11, 2001, it is difficult to gauge the EU’s relationship with MEK. As
discussed at the beginning of the chapter, the EU’s counterterrorism policy before the September
11 attacks was non-existent. However, since some of the EU member states had long histories
with MEK (see below), meaning that it was an issue with which the EU had to deal every time it
interacted with Iran. Iran alternated between seeing the EU as indifferent to MEK acts and
accusing the EU as hypocritical for stating that it was against terrorism, but harboring MEK from
Iran (Islamic Republic News Agency (IRNA) 1998a; IRNA 2001b). In all likelihood, neither of
52
these visions was completely true. The EU did denounce MEK attacks against assaults against
Iranian diplomats in 1998 and the group was a frustrating roadblock for the EU when dealing
with Iran (IRNA 1998b). As for harboring terrorists, the EU had little to no control over this
reality, as there was no counterterrorism law. The attitude of the EU during this period could
then probably be fairly described as passive for lack of capability, but frustrated with the
problems MEK created.
When given the capability with Common Position 2001/931/CFSP, the EU acted quickly,
labeling MEK a terrorist group on May 3, 20029. The EU has never publicly explained the
decision. EU Commissioner for external relations Chris Patten stated simply that Common
Position 2001/931/CFSP “contains a number of criteria that have to be met and, as a result, the
Mujahedeen-e Khalq have been included on the list in May 2002” (IRNA 2003). In arguments
before the European Court of First Instance in 2006, the EU Council’s counsel argued that the
common position “lists the criteria on the basis of which the persons, groups and entities are
included” that serve as justification for why groups are labeled as terrorist organizations and that
the MEK could “hardly claim that it is not a terrorist organization” (Court of First Instance
(Second Chamber) 2006). It would appear that, in spite of MEK’s declaration of nonviolence in
early 2001, the EU argued that it still violated parts of the Common Position.
EU and Iran
The default state of EU-Iran relations leading up to the labeling of MEK as a terrorist
organization was the EU trying to engage Iran diplomatically. After a change in government
9
This was the first update of the list after the first version was released at the end of 2001. It is
not surprising that MEK was not included on the first list. The only two non-European terrorist
groups sanctioned were Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Hamas. In context, the Kurdistan Workers’
Party, a terrorist organization targeting an EU candidate country, was put on the list at the same
time as MEK (EU Council 2001b, EU Council 2002b).
53
Iran, when Mohamed Khatami took over the presidency from the combative and anti-EU Akbar
Hashemi-Rasfanjani, the EU hoped for a rapprochement with the Iranian government. On
February 23, 1998, the EU Council of Ministers agreed to open a dialogue to improve relations
with Iran, but added that success would depend on Iran’s willingness to address concerns such as
Iranian support for international terrorism, consideration of weapons of mass destruction and
abuse of human rights (Smyth 1998). Over the next two years, the two sides came to agreements
to cooperate in counter-narcotics operations and developing Iran’s energy sector (IRNA 1998e;
Europe Energy 1999). In September 1999, Ayatollah Khamenei, previously thought to be
reluctant to consider reforms and negotiations with the EU, received Austrian President Thomas
Klestil and declared Iran’s desire to enter a close relationship with Europe (IRNA 1999).
After a brief hiccup during the French Presidency of the EU, when the French sent a low
level diplomatic mission to meet with the Iranians, causing the Iranians to walk out, the
European Commission continued pushing to support for Khatami’s new openness to the West
and reform (VIRI 2000b; DDP 2001). In September 2001, the EU High Representative Javier
Solana met with Kharrazi, marking the highest-level diplomatic relations between the EU and
Iran (Castle 2001). At the meeting the EU raised the possibility of trade agreements, though
stating that the agreements would rely on human rights improvements (Castle 2001).
Two months before the labeling of MEK as a terrorist organization in May 2002, a flurry
of activities occurred between Iran, the EU and EU member states. In March, Khatami went on a
tour of Europe, culminating with a meeting with Solana where the High Representative
reasserted EU commitment to engagement with Iran (Black 2002). In April, Austrian and Iranian
defense ministers met in Iran to discuss the threat of terrorism, the latest in a series of dialogues
between the EU, its member states and Iran on combatting the threat of terrorism (IRNA 2002b).
54
In all of these dialogues, Iran was clear in its complaints about MEK members being at large in
EU member states (IRNA 2001b). Two months later, after MEK had been designated a terrorist
group, the EU Council agreed to open trade negotiations with Iran, as long as they were linked to
progress in human rights and counterterrorism, terms accepted by the Iranians (Xinhua 2002).
Member States and MEK
France
France has had the longest relationship with MEK, serving as asylum and command
center for MEK after the crackdown of the June 1981. France is suspected to have helped the
establishment of MEK’s forward location in Iraq by brokering a deal between Saddam Hussein10
and MEK during the Iran-Iraq War and certainly sheltered MEK fighters fleeing the Iran-Iraq
front (New York Times 1983). Over the next two decades, France alternated between
sympathetic host and grudging landlord for MEK. It would give Rajavi’s wife Maryam asylum
in 1993 up through MEK’s designation as a terrorist group (IRNA 1993b). France would also
ban MEK from demonstrating during the visit of Iran’s President Mohamed Khatami to Paris in
1999 and did periodically attempt to expel MEK members before grudgingly letting them return
(IRNA 1993b; Marlowe 1999). While the EU-Iran rapprochement occurred after 1998, France,
for the most part, stayed quiet on the issue of MEK. As discussed above, the French did go out of
their way to insult the Iranians during their term as President of the EU Council, but neither
spoke for or against the labeling of MEK as a terrorist group. It did consent to the update of
Common Position 2001/931/CFSP that labeled MEK a terrorist group.
10
The details on this link are mostly circumstantial. Deputy Prime Minister of Iraq Tareq Aziz
visited in France in January 1983 to negotiate an increase in arms supplied in exchange for an
increase in Iraqi oil shipments. During the same trip, Aziz met with Rajavi to discuss political
ties, potentially pointing to France pushing MEK and Iraq together as allies (New York Times
1983).
55
United Kingdom
The UK’s relationship with MEK was much less fraught than France’s, though it was
never nearly as close. The UK mostly gave MEK a free hand to operate as necessary within the
UK, allowing it to broadcast a Persian radio station and base some of its exiles in London
without fear of extradition (IRNA 1994; Percival and Kirkup 2000). However, this was balanced
with condemnations of MEK attacks in Iran and a general recognition that the group was a
terrorist organization (IRNA 2000). The UK made its position clear by labeling MEK a terrorist
organization under its own counterterrorism laws in early 2001 and pushed to label the group
within the EU’s framework (Booker 2008).
This action appears to have been done, to some degree, to appease Iran. MEK had never
threatened the UK and the UK, while aware that the group utilized terrorism, never cracked
down before. The UK had pressed for the rapprochement between the EU and Iran during its
presidency from January to June 1998, achieving an agreement to open up negotiations (IRNA
1998c). When Iranian Foreign Minister Kamal Kharrazi visited with UK Prime Minister Tony
Blair in 2000, Iran insisted the group be listed as a terrorist organization, (Percival and Kirkup
2000). At this point, the rapprochement between the EU and Iran included the removal of the
fatwa against British citizen Salman Rushdie as a favor to the UK government. It was natural for
the UK to pay back in kind (Percival and Kirkup 2000).
Germany
Germany’s policy towards MEK followed a similar pattern to the UK’s. Sympathetic to
the plight of the exiled resistance, the German government allowed MEK to set up a
communications base in Bonn and Germany expelled Iranian diplomats in 1997 over the killing
of Iranian dissidents in Germany by Iranian assassins (IRNA 1993a; Drozdiak 1997). However,
56
Germany was always clear-eyed about MEK’s tactics, condemning MEK terrorist attacks and
helping the EU’s rapprochement with Iran during its term in the EU’s Rotating Presidency
(Vision of the Islamic Republic of Iran (VIRI) 2000a). The main difference between Germany
and the UK might simply be that Germany was far more forthright in associating its
condemnation with the EU’s rapprochement with Iran. When Hans Ulrich Klose, chairman of the
German Parliamentary Commission on Foreign Affairs, declared that Germany considered MEK
a terrorist group and would prosecute its activities in Germany, he did so at a meeting with
Iranian officials in Tehran (IRNA 2002a).
Italy
Italy never had the warmth or sympathy for MEK that the other three powerful states had.
While Italy provided asylum for MEK members after their exodus in 1981, the Italians soon
regretted it. After repeated MEK protests whenever Italian officials met with Iranian officials,
the Italians believed MEK meddled in their foreign policy and was something of a plague on its
relations with Iran (IRNA 1993c). Far ahead of the other EU member states, Italy agreed to curb
MEK’s activities and cooperate with Iran on the issue of terrorism (IRNA 2001a).
Spain and Austria
Spain and Austria did not have the experience of hosting MEK asylum-seekers like the
four largest EU member states, but they found MEK to be a nuisance. Austria vigorously helped
accelerate rapprochement with Iran during its Presidency of the EU in the second half of 1998
and felt that MEK was a constant embarrassment for its heckling of Iranian diplomats (IRNA
1998d). Spain similarly felt that MEK was getting in the way of improved relations with Iran and
condemned the group (IRNA 1998b). In 2002, when the group would labeled a terrorist
organization, Spain specifically backed the British effort to be able to say that the MEK had been
57
blacklisted during the Spanish Presidency of the EU (Iran News 2002).
Hezbollah
A Lebanese Shia Islamist group founded in 1982, Hezbollah11 finds its roots in the Shia
political activism that emerged in the Middle East in the 1960s. During this period, a Shia cleric
named Musa al-Sadr began pushing for greater representation of Shias in the Lebanese
government, believing that the consociational system in place gave the Shias too little of a voice
in the state12 (Azani 2011, 54). Al-Sadr would form the heart of the first coherent Shia political
movement in Lebanon—the Movement of the Deprived—that sought to serve as the main voice
for Shia Muslims in Lebanon (Azani 2011, 55). After his disappearance in 1978 and the Islamic
Revolution in Iran in 1979, the Shia community in Lebanon would be inflamed into greater
political activity, but also would be divided into moderates seeking to reform the political system
and extremists seeking to overthrow it (Azani 2011, 56-57).
Hezbollah would be formed from these extremists in 1982 in response to the Israeli
invasion attacking Palestinian Liberation Organization camps in southern Lebanon (Norton
2007, 34). At first, the organization was a rather chaotic umbrella group for Shia extremists to
fight the Israeli invaders (Norton 2007, 33). However, over time Hezbollah began to congeal as
an organization, developing relationships and control mechanisms for its membership. It proved
a difficult force to resist, attracting support in the Shia community for its social work, innovative
Literally translated, the “Party of God”.
12
The National Pact that founded the modern Lebanese state reserved the presidency for the
Maronite Christian community in Lebanon, the prime minster’s portfolio for the Sunni Muslim
community and the Speaker of the House (legislative body) for Shia Muslims. It also fixed
representation in the Council of Ministers of the government at six Christians and five Muslims.
It was this combination of all Muslims into one group as opposed to dividing it among Shias and
Sunnis that al-Sadr found particularly objectionable. (Najem 2012). This model fit with the idea
of consociational democracy, which tries to keep peace in divided societies through the
negotiations of elites (see Lijphart (1969) for more on consociationalism, Najem (2012) for the
creation of the modern Lebanese state).
11
58
tactics and attractive ideology (Azani 2011, 66-70).
This ideology holds Shias to be part of a global Shia Muslim community led by
revolutionary Iran (Azani 2011, 56). It was, therefore, their duty to spread the Shia Islamic
Revolution to Lebanon, where their Shia Muslim identity had always been oppressed anyway
(Azani 2011, 56-57). Their beliefs and goals were not restricted to Lebanon, however. They
divided the world into the oppressed and the oppressors. On the side of the oppressors were the
United States, the Soviet Union, France and Israel, as well as any allies these states may have
(Norton 2007, 37-38). On the side of the oppressed were Shia Muslims and the Third World in
general (Norton 2007, 37-38). It was their solemn duty to turn back the tide of the oppressors,
freeing Lebanon and destroying Israel (Norton 2007, 38-39). Importantly, it was the duty of
these extremists to represent the oppressed, an attitude that created intra-community tensions
with the moderates when Hezbollah was formed and tried to take the mantle of the party of Shia
Muslims in Lebanon.
Hezbollah proved flexible in how it implemented its ideology after Israel retreated in
1985 and Hezbollah had to turn its focus to the rest of Lebanon (Azani 2011, 67-70). It continued
to attack Israeli targets, but it also expanded its campaigns against the “oppressors”, kidnapping
Westerners, attacking foreigners in Lebanon and hijacking passenger jets (Azani 2011, 70-71).
When these tactics became unpopular in the 1990s and its feuds with moderates became
distasteful to the Shia community, Hezbollah changed into a pragmatic political force (Azani
2011, 101-102). It gave up the rhetoric of violent Islamic revolution and started pushing more
practical policies within the Lebanese political system for the end of consociational politics
(Azani 2011, 101-102). This effort coincided with a narrower, more disciplined approach to
military action against Israel, where Hezbollah, for the most part, limited its attacks to Israel’s
59
occupation force in southern Lebanon (Norton 2007, 83-88). It was also during this period that
Hezbollah began its prodigious fundraising activities in Europe (Azani 2011, 205).
When Israel withdrew completely from Lebanon in May 2000, Hezbollah lost much of its
raison d’être. The development of a political wing focusing on winning seats in parliament and
gaining influence in the Lebanese parliament had created something of a split identity for the
group: on the one hand, a Shia Islamist political party trying to gain headway in the Lebanese
government and, on the other, a violent revolutionary movement trying to remove the
“oppressors” from the Middle East and spread the Islamic Revolution (Norton 2007, 90). The
two parts of Hezbollah’s identity had been complementary while Israel had occupied Lebanese
territory, but now a decision had to be made. In the end, Hezbollah chose to continue its
resistance against Israel, using the pretext of Israel’s presence in the disputed Golan Heights to
continue attacks (Norton 2007, 90).
Following a 2006 war with Israel over its incursions into the Golan Heights and other
disputed territories, Hezbollah’s electoral fortunes in Lebanon improved, while its violent
activities against the “oppressors” expanded. After an embarrassing 2005 showing in Lebanese
elections, Hezbollah rebounded with a strong showing in 2009 (Azani 2011, 254-255). On the
international scene, Hezbollah supported Shia groups in Iraq resisting American occupation,
expanded its operations in Muslim states and stepped up criminal activities worldwide (Azani
2011, 255-257). Following the assassination of Imad Mughnieyeh, the head of Hezbollah’s Jihad
Council, in 2008, Hezbollah stepped up its global operations against Israel, planning and
executing attacks far away from the traditional battleground of the Lebanese-Israeli border
(Azani 2011, 255-257). Hezbollah has also taken on the duty of proxy for Iranian interests,
attacking Israeli targets in retaliation for Israel’s covert campaign against the Iranian nuclear
60
program (Warrick 2012).
Given this long history of violence, it would seem indisputable that Hezbollah falls under
the EU’s definition of a terrorist organization. Its acts are certainly intentional and it has badly
damaged the security of Israel and its citizens around the world. It has also proven to be a violent
destabilizing force in Lebanon, as well, while building global campaigns against Israeli targets
all over the world. All of these actions are done in an effort to eliminate Israel and foment an
Islamic Revolution throughout the Middle East. However, the EU has never sanctioned
Hezbollah as a terrorist organization. In the rest of this section, I will discuss the EU’s
relationship with Hezbollah, Hezbollah’s relationship with Iran, the EU’s relationship with Iran
after 2002, and the relationship of interested member states with Hezbollah.
EU and Hezbollah
The European Commissioner for External Affairs Benita Ferrero-Waldner probably best
summed up the EU’s policy towards Hezbollah when she demurred in 2005 that the status of
Hezbollah was “something for EU members to decide” (Cashman 2005). While the MEK case
showed that even when a terrorist group was sanctioned that the EU was reticent about giving the
reasons why, in the case of Hezbollah, the EU as a body usually demurred, deflected or just
avoided the question altogether. While both Israel and the US put constant pressure on the EU to
place sanctions on Hezbollah, the EU failed each time to do so (Weisman 2005). The reason is
quite simple: a consensus cannot be achieved. Even after an attack was made in an EU member
state, Bulgaria, in July 2012, and a member of Hezbollah was convicted of plotting to commit
attacks against Israelis in another EU member state, Cyprus, in February 2013, the best High
Representative Catherine Ashton could give was that the EU would engage in “reflection” during
the EU Council meeting (Eyal 2013). In the meantime, the EU has acted as if Hezbollah is
61
simply a political party in Lebanon and a player in the region, occasionally meeting with
members of Hezbollah as part of discussing stability in Lebanon or as part of “constructive
engagement” with Iran (The Daily Telegraph 2005). These meetings have given some amount of
legitimacy to Hezbollah, though acknowledging the Hezbollah-Iran connection.
Hezbollah and Iran
The relationship between Hezbollah and Iran has a long history and has been central to
both actors since Hezbollah’s founding in 1982. As discussed above, part of the inspiration for
Hezbollah’s establishment came from the Islamic Revolution in Iran in 1979. The founders of
Hezbollah believed themselves to be the vanguard bringing that Islamic Revolution to Lebanon,
both by resisting Israeli invasion and by fighting for control of the Lebanese state. While
Hezbollah rose independently of Iran’s attempts to export the Islamic Revolution, the two actors
soon began collaborating with Iran underwriting many of Hezbollah’s activities (Louër 2012,
56). Neither Hezbollah nor Iran view this collaboration as optional. As Iran’s proxy closest to
Israel, Iran always acknowledged its support for Hezbollah as necessary to fight the Israelis and
the United States when the US intervened in Lebanon (Louër 2012, 58). For its part, Hezbollah
expected Iran to give logistical and strategic support, since Hezbollah was a fellow traveler in
promoting the Islamic Revolution and helped promote Iranian interests (Louër 2012, 58). This
attitude gives Hezbollah’s actions an ambiguous tinge where it is never quite certain if Hezbollah
is acting out on its own, in the interests of Iran or both (Norton 2007, 174).
In the 1990s, Iran began to rely on Hezbollah more heavily in its campaign against Israel.
Hezbollah focused on Israel and combating its military presence in Lebanon—often at Iran’s
behest—with attacks against Israelis and Jews throughout the Middle East and the world in the
early 1990s (Azani 2011, 189). This campaign contrasted with the peace negotiations occurring
62
between the Palestinians and the Israelis and the Syrians and the Israelis, affirming that only Iran
really had any influence over Hezbollah (Azani 2011, 189-191). Even though Syria generally
supported Hezbollah, it found its attempts to rein in the group to be futile as Iran supported
Hezbollah’s continued campaign and Iran was the most important backer (Azani 2011, 191).
In 2000, Hezbollah showed perhaps its highest level of fealty to Iran. The group, unsure
of how to act after Israel’s withdrawal, went to Iran to ask if resistance against Israel should
continue and received a blessing from Ayatollah Khameini to continue (Norton 2007, 90). This
helped blossom the continuing relationship where Hezbollah follows the direction of Iran and in
return receives support for its resistance against Israel and its own goals in Lebanon (RostamiPovey 2010, 115). This support, while still significant at between 60 and 100 million dollars a
year, has become less important as Hezbollah has consolidated control over southern Lebanon
and found other sources of funds (Rostami-Povey 2010, 115). The ideological commitment,
however, remains and Hezbollah still works as a proxy for Iran against Israel, most recently in
the shadow war between Iran and Israel over Iran’s emerging nuclear program (Birnbaum 2013).
In terms of other states labeling Hezbollah a terrorist organization, Iran is naturally
opposed to the idea and critical of any state that questions Hezbollah’s legitimacy. While
conceding the movement’s violent nature, Iranian politicians argue that, in supporting Hezbollah,
they are supporting a resistance movement, not a terrorist organization (IRNA 2012b). Ending
Iran’s support for Hezbollah appears to be non-negotiable, as representatives of the Khameini
dismissed any direct negotiations with the US over its nuclear program since “they will ask Iran
to stop its support for Hezbollah of Lebanon” (IRNA 2012b). The movement is too ideologically
close to Iran and useful in attacking Israel to be given up. The two appear to be indivisible.
Outsiders who sanction Hezbollah are guilty of “global arrogance” (IRNA 2012a).
63
EU and Iran After 2002
The EU’s relationship with Iran after the rapprochement described in the “Mujahedeen-e
Khalq” section can be divided into two phases: the “constructive engagement” phase and the
“sanctions” phase. In the first phase, the EU sought to distance itself from the hostile US policy
marked by US President George W. Bush labeling Iran a member of the “axis of evil” (Binyon
2003). The revelations of Iran’s burgeoning nuclear program in 2002 tested the EU’s
commitment to this policy as the US pressed for greater pressure on Iran. However, at first, the
EU was accommodating to Iran, trying to broker a deal that would ease tensions between Iran
and the US and keep Iran from acquiring a nuclear capability (Macaskill, et al. 2003). The belief
within the EU was that friendlier relations with Iran could bring the Iranians in from the ledge
and keep proliferation from occurring (Vick 2004). By the end of 2004, however, the EU began
to have doubts about the policy of constructive engagement, as Commissioner for External
Affairs Chris Patten admitted that the policy had “gone backwards” in terms of Iran’s
cooperation over human rights, terrorism and its nuclear program (Staunton 2004).
Over the next three years, the EU gradually lost confidence in Iran’s willingness to
cooperate over the nuclear issue and on issues of human rights and regional stability. EU Council
Conclusions from 2005 to 2007 show a visible trend of growing disappointment and agitation
with Iran’s actions. What starts out as encouraging diplomatic efforts to engage with Iran and
pursue the economic and political reform outlined in the 2002 agreement quickly becomes
irritation at Iran’s increasingly destabilizing role in the region, its worsening human rights record
and its belligerent continuity of its nuclear program (EU Council 2008).
This led into the “sanctions” phase of the EU’s interactions with Iran. The two overlap to
a certain degree as the EU began adopting UN resolutions in 2007 to ban the shipment of
64
materials that could be used for nuclear weapons as well as arms and information security
systems (EU Council 2013). These would turn into broader measures such as financial sanctions
against government officials involved in the repression against demonstrators in 2009, financial
and trade sanctions against Iran in 2010 and finally sanctions against Iranian oil shipments in
2012 (EU Council 2013).
It should be noted that the EU has never supported cutting off diplomatic relations with
Iran and often sees it as a necessary force. The current E3+313 force negotiating with Iran over its
nuclear has been most fervently pushed by the EU and the EU has been certain to put
“confidence building” proposals on in the hope of Iran reciprocating (Eyal 2013). The EU also
believes that antagonizing Iran could have negative side effects for regional stability, especially
in solving the Syrian crisis (Eyal 2013).
Member States and Hezbollah
France
Though it is hardly alone in the EU in its resistance to adding Hezbollah to the EU’s list
of designated terrorist organizations, most outsiders attach the EU not labeling Hezbollah a
terrorist organization to French intransigence. Part of this hesitancy comes from France’s desire
to keep some amount of influence in Lebanon, a former colony. Hezbollah already directly labels
France an oppressive force in Lebanon and France believes that, to retain any influence in
Lebanon, it must accept Hezbollah as a legitimate political force to blunt criticism (Keinon
2005a). France is not blind to the fact that Hezbollah is a violent movement—Foreign Minister
Philippe Douste-Blazy said in 2005 that France wanted Hezbollah to give up violent means of
Germany, France, the UK, the US, Russia and China. More commonly referred to as the P5+1
(Permanent five members of the UN Security Council plus Germany, but labeled the E3+3
within the EU.
13
65
action—but believed that democratic change in Lebanon and the influence of external forces
such as Syria and Iran could rein in the group while labeling it a terrorist organization would be
counterproductive (Al-Arabiya 2005; Chulov 2008a).
Beyond Lebanon, France has argued that stability in the Middle East, especially in
relation to Iran and Syria, must include Hezbollah. During its Presidency of the EU Council from
July to December 2008, France used its position to try to achieve a rapprochement between Syria
and the EU while requiring little in return, in spite of Syria’s clear declaration that it would
continue its close ties with Iran and Hezbollah (Marlowe 2008). Hoping to broker a deal with
Iran to stop the Iranian nuclear program, the French argue that sanctioning Hezbollah will only
antagonize Iran and take them away from the table (Rice-Oxley 2006). In Syria, during the
current civil war, France argues that Iran and Hezbollah prop up the regime and that they must be
convinced to let it fall for their to be an end to the conflict (Birnbaum 2013). No deal can come
in these two areas, according to the French, if the EU sanctions Hezbollah.
However, France’s position could soon change if this thesis is overtaken by events. After
the July 2012 suicide bombing of a bus full of Israeli tourists in Bulgaria, Christophe Bigot, the
French ambassador to Israel, said, “We will be able to make the decision [on Hezbollah’s status]
when we have a result” of the Bulgarian investigation into the bombing (Naharnet 2012). While
France eventually demurred on the report of this investigation when it pointed to Hezbollah as
the responsible party, the pressure increased with the conviction of a member of Hezbollah who
was arrested in Cyprus (Weinthal 2013). Everything from France’s history suggests that they will
continue to resist pressure to sanction Hezbollah, but the pressure has never been as high as it is
currently. An attack on European soil and the arrest of another Hezbollah member in connection
to a terrorist attack in a EU member state could be enough.
66
Italy
Though much less excoriated publicly for its resistance to Hezbollah being sanctioned as
a terrorist organization, Italy is just as opposed to such an action as France. This is not due to
lack of admission of Hezbollah’s violent tendencies; in an Interior Ministry report in 2002, the
Italian government emphasized that Hamas and Hezbollah were more likely to carry out attacks
in Italy than al-Qaeda (Di Robilant 2002). Italy has not, however, chosen to sanction Hezbollah
and ignored the issue only a year later during its EU Council Presidency from July to December
2003. Instead, like France, Italy has stated its faith that Iran and Syria can rein in Hezbollah
(Tisdall 2006). It also supports the notion that stability in the region and in Lebanon must mean
talking with Iran, not taking actions that could antagonize Iran such as sanctioning Hezbollah
(Tisdall 2006). Italy also believes the current Syria crisis requires careful handling of Iran and
Hezbollah to bring an end to the civil war (Eyal 2013). Italy’s history also suggests that recent
pressure to label Hezbollah a terrorist group will not be enough, but, as with France, pressure has
never been higher and events could overtake this thesis.
Germany
While Germany has been noted as being on both sides of the debate over Hezbollah since
the EU established a counterterrorism policy, it would be perhaps more accurate to say the
Germany mostly wishes to avoid the issue entirely. As it became clear that France would not
concede to Hezbollah being labeled a terrorist organization, Germany decided to let the issue be
tabled for later discussion (Lefkovits and Associated Press 2005). The Germans also appear to
have been nervous about antagonizing the estimated 900 full-time, active Hezbollah members in
Germany (Kirschenbaum 2007b). During the German Presidency of the EU Council from
January to June 2007, Germany’s reticence about Hezbollah was fully on display. German
67
Chancellor Angela Merkel travelled to the Middle East allegedly to discuss the EU’s role in
Lebanon, Israel and Palestine, but went to none of these places and tried to avoid any
expectations for the trip (Dempsey 2007). There also has been a sense in Germany that
antagonizing Hezbollah could antagonize Iran, hurting negotiations to halt to Iran’s nuclear
program, Germany’s trade with the Islamic Republic and possibly extending the Syrian crisis
(Weinthal 2012).
However, Germany’s attitude changed with the results of the investigation of the
bombing Bulgaria. While it is only possible to conjecture on how Italy or France will react to the
increased pressure to sanction Hezbollah after an attack on European soil, it proved to be too
much for the Germans. Merkel called for Hezbollah to be sanctioned under the terrorism policy
almost immediately after the report came out (Spiegel Online 2013).
United Kingdom
Similar to Germany, the UK originally dithered between sanctioning and not sanctioning
Hezbollah. While never credited as being opposed to sanctions against Hezbollah, the UK tried
to avoid the issue, at first, accepting France’s opposition (Lefkovits and Associated Press 2005).
This became more difficult in October 2005, when the UK accused Iran and Hezbollah of aiding
in the deaths of eight British soldiers in southern Iraq, but the UK did not recommend sanctions,
preferring to continue “constructive engagement” with Iran (The Daily Telegraph 2005). In fact,
the British ambassador to Lebanon met with Hezbollah officials at the height of the crisis, filling
the UK’s role as president of the EU in continuing engagement with Iran and the Iranians’ allies
(Keinon 2005b). However, in July 2008, the UK lost its patience with the engagement process
and Iran’s deferring on negotiations over its nuclear program, criticizing the Iranians for
68
obstructionism and labeling the military wing of Hezbollah a terrorist organization14 (Chulov
2008b). The UK has pushed for the EU to label Hezbollah’s military wing a terrorist
organization ever since.
The Netherlands
No state may be as militantly anti-Hezbollah as the Netherlands. The Dutch have
consistently pushed for Hezbollah to be labeled a terrorist organization and refer to it as a
terrorist organization in all of its national communications15. The Netherlands notably made the
decision to do this during its presidency of the EU in December 2004 (Lazaroff 2004). The
Netherlands is the only member state that declares that all of Hezbollah, both its political wing
active in the Lebanese government and its violent wing, is a terrorist organization and has been
the strongest advocate for the EU’s blacklisting of Hezbollah (Kirschenbaum 2007a). The
Netherlands also tars any actor that consorts with Hezbollah with the label of terrorist
organization or sponsor of terrorism, with the Dutch parliament recommending the labeling of
the Iran Revolutionary Guard Corps as a terrorist organization due to its support of Hezbollah
(Weinthal 2009). Curiously—and admittedly problematic for this thesis—the Netherlands has
continuously argued that engagement with Iran is the best policy to resolve the dispute over
Iran’s nuclear program and bringing an end to the war in Syria (IRNA 2011). The Dutch have
generally kept up amiable relations with Iran and have tried to keep dialogue from ending.
14
The UK distinguishes between Hezbollah’s violent arm attacking Israel and its political arm
sitting in the Lebanese parliament.
15
The nature of the Netherlands’s condemnation of Hezbollah is often confused. The
Netherlands refers to Hezbollah as a terrorist organization, but Hezbollah is not on the Dutch list
of entities and persons that are subject to financial sanctions (Alle Dorhout, Head, Political
Section, Netherlands Embassy to the United Nations, personal communication, November 12,
2012).
69
Analysis
The most striking aspect of the two cases discussed in this chapter is the failure of
individualist explanations for explaining EU blacklisting decisions. First, the breakdown of
decision-making in the Hezbollah case goes against all individualist expectations. Italy and
France were very public in their opposition to the British and Dutch desire to list Hezbollah as a
terrorist group. No effort was made to make the EU appear united once the disagreement became
public. While this happened, the EU institutions and their leaders simply foundered, waiting for
member states to make a decision. Second, when considering the MEK case, France tried to use
its presidency to trip up the rapprochement with Iran while its fellow member states were trying
to usher in better relations. Always of two minds when it came to MEK, the French tried to keep
their options open by using the EU Council Presidency to sabotage the growing relationship
between the EU and Iran. The lack of consistency during each EU Council Presidency in the
MEK case and the paralysis occurring during the Hezbollah case both indicate structuralist
explanations.
If one excludes the Netherlands, which I will discuss below, the issue of which
structuralist explanation is most compelling becomes quite complex. The logic of arguing does
not appear very compelling. France gives most of the reason why, showing a consistent
opposition to truth seeking across both cases. In the MEK case, France keeps silent, appearing to
prefer subterfuge to engaging in open argument over whether or not blacklisting MEK was a
good idea. By itself, these actions cause a violation of Hypothesis 3-316, as France had a different
relationship with Iran than the other member states, yet sanctions were still implemented. In the
Hezbollah case, France changes the goalposts over when it would consider Hezbollah a terrorist
For full list of hypotheses, see Table 1 on page 38
16
70
organization. France states that it will consider sanctions after the results of the investigation into
the July 2012 bombing in Bulgaria, but then deferred action to later, waving aside the results of
the investigation. It would appear that France has deemed Iran’s presence in Lebanon and Syria
as well as the need to halt Iran’s nuclear program to be too important to consider for argument
within the EU.
Even going beyond France, the logic of arguing is a very weak explanation. Iran’s
positions on MEK and Hezbollah were constant throughout the cases. Only outside events
appeared to change member state attitudes in the Hezbollah case. The British changed their
attitudes after Iran broke the UK’s confidence one too many times in negotiations over the
Iranian nuclear program and Germany believed that Hezbollah’s attack on European soil was a
step too far. This is not unacceptable under the logic of arguing, but it shows that circumstances
are more important considerations for EU member states than arguments or truth seeking.
Circumstance-based behavior would suggest the logic of consequences, not the logic of arguing.
There did appear to be a very strong logic of appropriateness in both cases. In MEK case,
France never publicly declared disapproval of Iran or support for MEK. While silence and
subterfuge may have run counter to individualist explanations, the lack of open conflict and the
preservation of at least the appearance of a common EU foreign policy by meeting with Iran at
all shows an acute awareness of what behavior was appropriate. France found itself caught
backing a group that had been a violent terrorist group in the past, violating the EU’s new
Common Position, which the EU had made quite public while investing resources to upgrade its
counterterrorism legislation. Additionally, terrorism was still an important issue so soon after
September 11, 2001 and France was forced to vote on it in a EU forum. France appears to have
71
been very skillfully entrapped17 by states with a positive relationship with Iran who hoped to
warm relations with Iran, fitting the conditions described by Hypothesis 2b-1.
In the Hezbollah case, the logic of appropriateness also makes an appearance. Recalling
the conditions for entrapment, they appeared to be working against Germany and the UK in the
case of Hezbollah. The EU had committed itself to trying to reform Iran, a project that
sanctioning Hezbollah would have endangered. It was also not clear whether the EU’s
commitment to fight terrorism or reform Iran applied to the Hezbollah case. These factors put
immense pressure on Germany and the UK to avoid appearing opposed to Italy and France, no
matter what they actually believed. Other actions would have broken the unity of the EU and
would not actually accomplish anything other than a public row. These factors can explain why,
after accusing Hezbollah and Iran of being complicit in the death of UK soldiers, the UK
continued its EU Council Presidency obligations to the point of meeting with Hezbollah officials
and repeating the need for constructive engagement with Iran. They also explain Germany trying
to avoid the issue at all costs, to the point of sending Merkel on a trip to the Middle East during
the German Presidency of the EU Council to discuss Israel, Lebanon and Palestine without
visiting any of those states. The conditions for entrapment were not ripe and the logic of
appropriateness put enough pressure on both states to force them into the EU line.
However, it would be impossible to call the logic of appropriateness dominant, as
Germany and the UK broke out of these restrictions. The UK could not continue turning a blind
eye to Iran’s nuclear program and believed it had accommodated Iran enough, sanctioning
Hezbollah and recommending the EU do so as well. For Germany, an attack on European soil
proved to be a step too far. Before the attack, when Iran and Hezbollah had confined Hezbollah
See “The Logic of Appropriateness and the EU” subsection on page 19
17
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from placing attacks in Europe, the consequences of sanctions were too high to insist upon them.
Afterwards, the consequences of not acting became too high to not voice support for sanctions.
However, for France and Italy, the calculations of consequences appear not to have changed, as
they prefer to keep Hezbollah off of the EU’s blacklist to avoid antagonizing Iran. This accords
with Hypothesis 1-1 under the logic of consequences, as the presence of states with friendly
relations with Iran has prevented sanctions against Hezbollah that might antagonize Iran.
Hypothesis 1-1 can be used to interpret the MEK case as well, even if the logic of
consequences may have been more muted in this case. Most interested member states believed
sanctions against MEK to be necessary to improve relations with Iran. The consequences of
implementing sanctions were preferable to the consequences of not implementing sanctions.
France may have gone along with the sanctions because it did not care how the consequences
affected Iran. It may have calculated the logic of consequences based on how its attitude may
have been received within the EU. France tried to derail negotiations with Iran, but when its
rather timid faux pas was ignored, it went along with the other states, deciding its relations with
EU members was more important than preventing positive consequences for Iran.
This attitude, though, would indicate that France was working under the logic of
appropriateness, as I pointed out as a possibility above. France’s not acting combined with the
high apparent threshold Iran and Hezbollah had to cross to force the UK and Germany to
advocate for sanctions against Hezbollah. This would suggest that the logic of consequences is
dominant, but it is not the preferred logic for member states that would rather work as a unit
within the logic of appropriateness. This is not impossible—Risse’s discussion of the three logics
explicitly states that all three are present within international institutions—but it gives strength to
a second, non-dominant logic that was not accounted for in the forming of hypotheses.
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It would be inappropriate to leave this chapter without considering the bizarre outlier of
the Netherlands in the Hezbollah case. Strictly speaking, there is no hypothesis for this thesis that
predicts such an action, where a member state advocates for sanctions that antagonize a great
power with which it was pursuing dialogue and friendly relations. Such an action would be
conceivable before the addendums added in Chapter Two that tied EU member states’ actions to
their perceptions of how those actions would affect external great powers, since the Netherlands
might simply have separated its relations with Hezbollah and Iran, viewing the consequences in
its actions towards either as unrelated. This would invalidate much of the theoretical argument
for considering great powers’ affect on EU sanctions decision-making.
However, the Netherlands is a distant outlier in the context of both cases. In the MEK
case, the UK, France, Germany, Italy, Spain and Austria all viewed sanctions against MEK in
terms of their relationship with Iran. In the Hezbollah case itself, France and Italy are constantly
focused on Iran in their resistance to sanctions against Hezbollah. The UK did not sanction
Hezbollah after an attack against British soldiers, but after a further act of noncompliance by Iran
in developing its nuclear program. Germany shared some of France’s and Italy’s concerns as
well as wanting to avoid an image of discord within the EU over Hezbollah, but after a
potentially Iran-sponsored attack in Europe, this position was no longer acceptable. That makes
ten out of eleven member states acting with Iran in mind, with the Netherlands being the only
outlier. Since this is a qualitative work with a small number of cases, it is impossible to do a
statistical analysis on how much of an outlier the Netherlands is that would actually reveal any
worthwhile information. However, given how different the Netherlands acted from every other
member state in the two cases, I will regard the result of the comparison of the two cases as
strong support for the dominance of the logic of consequences due to their affirmation of
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Hypothesis 1-1 and conditional support for the strength of the logic of appropriateness due to
their affirmation of Hypotheses 2a and 2b-1, given no extraordinary change in consequences.
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Chapter Five
The European Neighborhood Policy
In 2002, it became imminent that the EU would add 12 new members within the next six
years. This enlargement would completely remake the EU’s neighborhood. When Finland joined
in 1995, it was the only EU member state that bordered Russian territory. In 2007, it was one of
five. In 1995, Greece was the closest member state to both Moldova, with their borders at a little
under 600 kilometers apart at their closest respective points, and Syria, at a little under 700
kilometers by sea from Rhoades to the Syrian coast. In 2007, the EU bordered Moldova and new
member state Cyprus was less than 200 kilometers by sea from Syria. Finally, the closest
member state to Belarus and the Ukraine at independence in 1991 was a reunified Germany. In
2007, Belarus had three EU neighbors and the Ukraine had four.
Realizing that the EU’s neighborhood was about to change rapidly, the EU Council
decided that it needed a policy to address the new change. At a meeting of the General Affairs
formation of the Council in April 2002, the Council tasked Javier Solana, the High
Representative for the CFSP, and the European Commission to propose a policy for the new
European neighborhood (EU Council 2002a). In an open letter responding to the Council in
August, Solana and European Commissioner for External Affairs Chris Patten divided the EU’s
new neighborhood into three regional groupings—the Eastern Neighbors, the Mediterranean and
the Western Balkans18—and stated that the EU had four core interests in these areas: “stability,
prosperity, shared values and rule of law along our borders” (Solana and Patten 2002).
These interests would form the core of the European Commission’s proposal for the
18
The Western Balkans would eventually not be part of the ENP. As part of the Stability and
Association Agreement negotiations between the EU and Western Balkan states, all of these
states are considered potential members, while ENP states are not (EU Council 2003).
76
European Neighborhood Policy (ENP). Eligible states19 could participate in “Action Plans”
where the EU would provide aid, technical assistance and fund cultural, scientific and cultural
links while holding out the carrots of lower tariffs and visa-free travel within the EU in exchange
for political and economic reform (European Commission 2004b). The Commission notes that its
neighbors are all signatories of UN human rights conventions and that the EU seeks to promote
commitment to shared values, especially those EU values of “respect for human dignity, liberty,
democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights” (European Commission
2004b). While mechanisms like the Action Plans were drawn up to facilitate engagement with
these neighbors, there was no consideration that the EU could seal its borders and just ignore its
neighbors. The EU feels powerfully compelled to recognize and engage with what is going on in
its neighboring states.
This draws the EU deep into conflict with Russia. The Eastern Enlargement of the EU in
2004 infuriated the Russians who saw the EU as entering its sphere of influence (Casier 2007). It
protected the three Baltic States from Russian pressure over the status of Russian minorities; it
brought the ENP into ex-Soviet states such as Belarus and the Ukraine that Russia believes it has
a sovereign right to dominate; and it began crowding traditional realms of Russian interest, such
as the Black Sea, with EU members and potential EU members (Fak 2004; Vahl 2007; Casier
2007). The Eastern Enlargement also made it so Russia would not be dealing solely with the
somewhat friendly western EU member states such as Germany and Italy when it met with the
EU, but also the more hostile new eastern EU member such as Poland and Lithuania (Timmins
2005). Since Russia and the EU are highly interdependent due to Russia’s high share of the EU
The states mentioned in the Copenhagen European Council as well as the three southern
Caucasus states that were added with the Commission’s proposal and its approval by the EU
Council.
19
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gas market and the EU’s high share of Russia’s gas sales, this meant Russia would have to
consistently negotiate with a body that included hostile states (European Commission). The EU’s
actions in its eastern neighborhood thus constantly find a very paranoid, irritated great power that
sees the EU as both an encroaching organization and a vital gas market. This makes it highly
likely that Russia will have an influence on EU sanctions decisions in its eastern neighborhood.
Within this context, I will present two case studies for the use of EU sanctions against
ENP eligible states: Belarus and the Ukraine. Belarus, the positive case of this chapter, never
entered into an Action Plan under the ENP and was sanctioned in 2006 after Alexander
Lukashenka, the state’s president, suppressed the opposition after winning an election that was
widely considered fraudulent. The Ukraine negotiated and settled on an Action Plan with the EU
in 2005, but raised the concern of the EU with the jailing of former Prime Minister Yulia
Tymoshenko, the leader of the opposition to the ruling Party of Regions, in 2011 (European
Commission 2012). However, no sanctions were imposed. As I will show below, Russia had a
tremendous impact on these two decisions. It will be the purpose of the final, analytical section
to determine what that impact was.
The Belarusian Presidential Election of 2006
If there was ever an accidental state, it was Belarus. Suffering from weak leadership and
divided opinion, Belarus gained independence in 1991 due to bullying from a Russia that was
barely holding itself together and a newly independent and confident Ukraine20 (Wilson 2011,
150-154). The Belarusian leadership quickly collapsed, creating a scramble for power leading up
to the 1994 presidential election that brought Alexander Lukashenka to power (Wilson 2011,
158-163). Lukashenka started in power with the titles of populist and reformer, but to call him
20
Ukraine is noted for holding a popular referendum on independence on December 1, 1991
where 90.1 percent of the population voted for independence (Wilson 2011, 151)
78
either would have been fallacious to the point of denial. In his first two years he skillfully played
divide and conquer with the opposition. He used a referendum in 1995 raising Russian to the
equivalent status as Belarusian as the national language to divide a society already deeply
ambivalent about its separation from Russia (Wilson 2011, 173-174). He then coopted a
parliamentary movement in 1996 to amend the constitution to rein in his power by forcing
through counter-amendments that greatly expanded it (Wilson 2011, 177-185). What followed
was a period of unprecedented corruption with Lukashenka using the state to reward supporters
and punish opposition (Wilson 2011, 185-192). Many opposition leaders disappeared and the
opposition became weak, divided and leaderless (Wilson 2011, 196-198).
However, the lead-up to the 2006 presidential election was much more tense than
previous elections ever were. Lukashenka sought a third term after amending the constitution in
2004 to remove term limits. Lukashenka’s ex-Soviet authoritarian peers in Georgia, the Ukraine
and Kyrgyzstan had all fallen to peaceful, democratic revolutions. There was a sense in Belarus
that these states could provide a guide to overthrowing Lukashenka. However, the opposition
encountered familiar problems. A dearth of strong, notable candidates led to infighting and
abstentions from various opposition groups and the nomination of a relative unknown, Alexander
Milinkevich (Wilson 2011, 210-211). Lukashenka was also able to tie these opposition activists
to Poland and Lithuania (see “Member States and Belarus”) and tar them with the title of foreign
lackeys (Bennett 2011, 193). Finally, a populist Russophile candidate, Alexander Kazulin,
divided the opposition vote (Wilson 2011, 211-213). Faced with long odds created by divisions,
Lukashenka’s smear campaign and the inevitable electoral fraud during the election in March
2006, the Belarusian opposition prepared to protest the results.
As expected, Lukashenka won in another landslide, capturing 82.6 percent of the official
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vote tabulation (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) 2006). The postelection protests also went mostly as expected. Kazulin and Milinkevich cried fraud and
Milinkevich demanded another election, but none came (Weir 2006). The opposition protested
the results in Minsk, but many were arrested and riot police beat many others, including Kazulin
and Milinkevich’s aides (The Economist 2006; Belapan 2006d). Within a week, the protests had
been completely dispersed (Chivers 2006).
The EU and Belarus
The relationship between the EU and Belarus has traditionally been a distant and strained
one. The two sides signed off on a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement in 1995, but the EU
failed to ratify the agreement due to Lukashenka’s growing authoritarianism (Wilson 2011, 168).
Over the next nine years, relations between Belarus and the EU ranged from cold to openly
hostile. If Belarus particularly piqued the EU’s ire in its flagrant disregard for democratic norms
or its suppression of the opposition, travel bans were issued against top Belarusian government
officials, but were always eventually repealed (The Independent 2002). For its part, Belarus
expressed frustration that the EU refused to change its attitude towards Belarus and start
negotiating for greater economic and political cooperation. Lukashenka and his minsters
alternated between raging at EU meddling and calling for greater cooperation with the EU
(ITAR-TASS 2001; Sovetskaya Belorussiya 2002). It became something of an article of faith
between the two sides that Belarus would likely never change and the EU would never apply
meaningful sanctions to Belarus (Belapan 1999; ITAR-TASS 2001).
The referendum in 2004 abolishing term limits for President Lukashenka proved to be a
step too far for the EU. The EU Council passed travel bans on members of Lukashenka’s
government and extended those travel bans in 2005 when the situation in Belarus failed to
80
improve (EU Council 2005). Communication between the EU and Belarus was restricted to EU
institutions and the EU council president state in 2004 (European Commission 2006). Finally,
the EU essentially declared that it had had enough with the Lukashenka regime, officially
reaching out to non-governmental civil society actors in Belarus, a coy euphemism for the
opposition that already had taken shelter in EU member states, most notably in Lithuania (see
“Member States and Belarus”) (European Commission 2006).
By the beginning of 2006, the EU was threatening financial sanctions if Belarus failed to
hold a free and fair election (The Independent 2006). When the inevitable happened and
Lukashenka rigged the election for an easy victory, the EU roundly condemned the action
(Blomfield 2006). Once Lukashenka started beating and arresting members of the opposition the
EU determined that it had to act. On May 18, 2006, they passed Common Position
2006/362/CFSP, freezing the funds of many members of the Belarusian government, including
Lukashenka (EU Council 2006). In the Common Position, the EU condemned the Belarusian
government for “arresting peaceful demonstrators exercising their legitimate right to free
assembly to protest at the conduct of the presidential elections held in Belarus on 19 March
2006” (EU Council 2006).
Belarus and Russia
Relations between Belarus and Russia are marked by the incredible ambivalence with
which the two states regard their divorce in 1991. As described above, Belarusians were deeply
ambivalent about independence. In his early years, Lukashenka was able to play upon this
ambivalence, describing Belarus as both a Slavic bulwark, defending Russia against EU and
NATO expansion and as a central, undeniable part of Europe with a unique culture separate from
Russia (Wilson 2011, 138-139). If Lukashenka’s vacillations between attacking and trying to
81
engage the EU frustrated his Western counterparts, his alternating Belarus between loyal ally and
rebel client state has been infuriating for Russia, which sees a friendly Belarus as vital for its
interests. Both Boris Yeltsin and Vladimir Putin, Russia’s presidents between Belarusian
independence and the 2006 Belarusian presidential election, have alternated between trying to
bring Belarus closer and punishing a wayward ally. The result is that relations between the two
states can range from discussing the formation of a “new Union state” that would unite the two
states to cold spells where Belarus looks West for help and Russia cuts off natural gas through
the Northern Lights Pipeline, which provides most of Belarus’s energy supply.
The ups and downs of the relationship are well described by Putin’s dealings with
Belarus after coming to power in Russia in 2000. Putin dabbled in the idea of sponsoring a more
reliable candidate in the 2001 presidential election before backing off when Lukashenka
pressured that candidate out of the race (Wilson 2011, 172-173). Putin found other ways to
pressure Lukashenka, though. After it became clear that Lukashenka would not keep a promise
he made to Putin in 2001 to open up Belarusian state-owned enterprises to Russian investment,
Putin decided to use his gas leverage on Belarus to try to extract concessions. Tired of providing
Belarus with virtually free natural gas while being faced with transit fees, Gazprom, the Russian
state petroleum giant, cut off gas to Belarus in 2002 and then tried (and failed) to take over
Beltransgaz, the Belarusian state gas transport company, before eventually restoring service
(Wilson 2011, 238). Lukashenka reacted by manufacturing a Belarusian nationalism that focused
on Belarus’s “pure Slavism” as opposed to Russia, a move to accustom the population to more
anti-Russia policies (Wilson 2011, 204-205).
As always, however, Russia-Belarus relations regained their warmth in 2004, fortuitously
aligning with the EU’s criticism of both states. After the deaths of 396 people during a Russian
82
“rescue” at a Chechen school in Beslan in September 2004, Lukashenka came out in support of
the Russian government, a stark contrast to the critical EU (see below) (Wilson 2011, 206-207).
A day after announcing his condolences, which were combined with his announcement of
proposed constitutional amendments allowing him to seek another term, Russia called for
noninterference in the constitutional referendum in Belarus, saying it was a Belarusian affair
(ITAR-TASS 2004).
Three months before the election, the two sides appeared to be settling their biggest
issues. On December 28, 2005, Lukashenka finally let Gazprom buy out Beltransgaz, in
exchange for continued cheap gas for Belarusian use and modest transit fees (Dempsey 2005). In
greeting a new Russian ambassador, Lukashenka assured him that, even amidst the turmoil
leading up to the presidential election, that Belarus was “stable and normal”, an assertion the
Russians were prepared to accept (Belapan 2006c). Predictably, Russia affirmed the results and
Putin congratulated Lukashenka on his victory (Interfax 2006). Russian support came with a
price, however. Gazprom quickly took advantage of the weakened, though still powerful
Lukashenka, by raising the rates on gas sold to Belarus, breaking the December 2005 agreement
(Chivers 2006). Additionally, while Lukashenka restated the need for “equality” between
Belarus and Russia in Union state, he did not make his usual demands for better treatment
(ITAR-TASS 2006b). Weakened and more dependent on Russia, Lukashenka appeared to try to
tread water in the relationship until he could gain some amount of leverage.
Russia and EU around the 2006 Belarusian Presidential Election
While Russia was able to create divisions between the friendly western EU members and
the hostile eastern EU members on a daily basis, Russia could never make the divisions deeper
than differences of approach and bickering. When crises hit, the EU unified against Russia and
83
they hit often. In the eighteen months before the Belarusian presidential election in 2006, the
EU-Russia relationship was badly undermined three times. In September 2004, after the Russian
siege at Beslan, the Foreign Minister of the Netherlands, Bernard Bot, speaking for the EU
Presidency, demanded to “know from Russian authorities how this tragedy could have
happened” (Maddox 2004). Some EU states, most notably Germany and the UK, tried to ease the
situation by saying that the Russian authorities had few options, but it broke a long policy of
silence on behalf of EU states towards Russian action in Chechnya (Maddox 2004).
While the two sides were able to paper over differences over Chechnya, the conflict over
the presidential election in the Ukraine in 2004 put the EU and Russia on opposite sides of a
struggle for power in the country. The election itself will be discussed in greater length in “The
Jailing of Yulia Tymoshenko” section below, but, in short, Russia backed the Ukrainian prime
minister running with the support of the business oligarchs in the Ukraine while the EU refused
to recognize his election, arguing that there had been massive fraud (Dempsey 2004). The
Russian foreign ministry, Duma and president all condemned EU interference in the electoral
process, since Ukraine belonged in Russia’s sphere of influence (Dempsey 2004). The EU
countered that it had four current and future member states bordering the Ukraine and therefore
had an interest in democratic elections in the Ukraine (Dempsey 2004). Unlike after the Russian
storming of the school in Beslan, there was no attempt to paper over differences by the more
sympathetic large EU member states (Dempsey 2004). Germany was especially strident in its
support for the Ukraine, backing the three Baltic States (Baltic News Service 2004c). This
struggle reopened the wounds of the Eastern Enlargement as Russia once again worried about the
EU encroaching on Russian power.
While the two sides tried to build up relations again to their normal position, the Ukraine
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wound continued to fester, undermining relations again in January 2006. Russia drastically
reduced the pressure in gas pipelines going through the Ukraine on January 1, 2006, immediately
causing a gas crisis within the EU (Kramer 2006). Russian minister of industry and energy,
Victor Khristenko, said that the EU should lean on the Ukraine, not Russia, to restore the supply,
stating, “We hope the EU’s reaction will be appropriate” (ITAR-TASS 2006a). The EU did not
bite, blaming Vladimir Putin geopolitical aims for the crisis and gas was restored on January 3
(Parfitt and Harding 2006). Entering the Belarusian election, the EU worried about whether or
not it could trust Russia to provide gas and Russia saw the EU as a threat to its regional power
and a meddler in its internal affairs. The EU’s timing of sanctions against Belarus would magnify
this impression: the week before the EU-Russia summit (The Irish Times 2006).
The Member States and Belarus
Germany
Belarus’s relationship with Germany is likely its most important of the EU member
states. Germany at the time of the 2006 election was Belarus’s second largest trading partner
after Russia and was instrumental in helping build the Yamal Pipeline connecting Germany to
Russian gas supplies (European Commission; Interfax 1997). Germany and Belarus also in arms
control and the German army helped train Belarusian troops (Belapan 2004b). Finally, Germany
proved reluctant to criticize Belarus after a crackdown against the Polish minority in Belarus,
much to Poland’s consternation (Podolski 2005).
However, Germany was never comfortable with Belarus and it showed more often than
not. The frequent disappearances of the Belarusian opposition led to Germany making several
complaints to Belarusian officials on behalf of the families of many opposition leaders (Wines
1999). It hosted several Belarusian opposition groups and watchdogs monitoring fraud in
85
Belarusian elections and German ambassadors participated in workshops on how to bring
democratic change to Belarus (Belapan 2004c). Germany also funded and provided facilities for
pro-democracy broadcasters to push for democratic revolution in the state (Belapan 2005a).
It should be noted that there were suspicions that Germany collaborated with Russia to
interfere in Belarusian politics before the 2001 presidential election (Belapan 2000). It was not a
secret at the time that Germany valued its relationship with Russia much more than it valued its
relationship with Belarus and construction of the Yamal Pipeline required cooperation between
all three states. The accusation was made before the 2001 presidential election, a time when
Russia, as noted above, was very active in Belarusian politics. Whatever the case, Germany and
Russia sharply disagreed over whether or not fraud was committed during the 2006 election and
Germany was very public in its support for the Belarusian opposition (Belapan 2006e).
Italy
Similar to Germany, Italy had some economic and defense cooperation with Belarus, but
proved hesitant to fully embrace Lukashenka’s authoritarian regime. Italy specifically helped to
train Belarusian police in counterterrorism and signed agreements to avoid double taxation and
ease investment between the two states (Belarusian TV; Belapan 2005b). Italy was also more
dovish on Belarus than most EU member states on the issue of Belarus before the election,
suggesting that the EU should step up dialogue with Belarus instead of ignoring it (Belapan
2006b). However, Italy was not prepared to ignore Lukashenka’s habit of suppressing the
opposition and stated that these problems needed to be addressed for further cooperation to be
realistic (Belapan 2006b).
United Kingdom
The UK’s relationship with Belarus was never much more than frosty. Though the two
86
states trade extensively, the UK was keen to emphasize that it was more interested in reaching
out to the Belarusian population than out to Lukashenka (Skachko and Yurchuk 2006). The UK
also criticized Belarus heavily for the disappearances of opposition members (Wines 1999).
During the UK’s EU Council Presidency in 2005, it maintained its icy relationship with Belarus,
through it did not make a priority out of the issue. The UK criticized the 2006 election harshly
and stated its support for the opposition, while recommending financial sanctions against
Belarusian leaders (Skachko and Yurchuk 2006). The UK was also critical of Russia failing to
back the assessment that the election was fraudulent (Skachko and Yurchuk 2006).
France
Of the four most powerful states in the EU, France was perhaps the least interested in
Belarus. It never cultivated the trade, investment or defense ties the other three did. The French
found the Lukashenka regime’s attitude towards democracy to be disappointing, but the issue of
Belarusian suppression was never as important as other ENP issues (Belapan 2004a). They were
glad simply to support a more interested state, showing solidarity with Poland over the
oppression of ethnic Poles in 2005 (PAP 2005a). During the run-up to the 2006 election, France
hosted Milinkevich and the French ambassador to Belarus visited the opposition in prison after
the election, but France preferred to defer to the other states (Belapan 2006a; Belapan 2006e).
Poland
Poland was, at first, much more resistant to EU pressure on Belarus than most other
member states. While Poland also criticized the Lukashenka regime’s democratic record, it
remained concerned for the Polish minority within Belarus and insisted that it needed to keep
contact with the Belarusian regime for border cooperation. Polish Foreign Minister Wlodzimierz
Cimoszewicz protested against the EU’s narrowing of communications with Belarus in 2004 and
87
advocated the setting up of a European Commission office, but both were rejected by the General
Affairs and External Relations formation of the EU Council and the Common Position passed
without a Polish veto (Rzeczpospolita 2004).
Poland’s position quickly changed in July 2005, but not due to apparent EU pressure. The
Belarusian government performed a raid against opposition ethnic Poles near the Poland-Belarus
border. Outraged, the Polish government recalled its ambassador and formally submitted for EU
sanctions against Belarusian leadership (McLaughlin 2005). It also linked the crackdown to a
similar attack on Polish embassy employees in Russia, believing Russia and Belarus jointly
cracked down on ethnic Poles (PAP 2005b). In response, the EU extended the travel ban on
Belarusian officials within the EU and threatened sanctions against Belarus if it engaged in
repression again. Poland began openly supporting the Belarusian opposition and speeded up
development of a EU-funded radio station to broadcast news into Belarus (Baltic News Service
2006a). After the 2006 elections, Poland proved to be the most hawkish of EU states, demanding
that companies associated with Lukashenka receive sanctions and government members’ assets
being frozen (Rennie 2006).
Lithuania
The opposite of Poland, Lithuanian had little tolerance for the Belarusian regime.
Believing Lukashenka to be too close to Russia, Lithuania actively attempted to foment
revolution in Belarus, something about which Lithuanian officials were quite candid21 (Wilson
2011, 214-215). The Lithuanian parliament censured Lukashenka in 2004 after the referendum
allowing him to run for a third term and Vilnius was welcoming to any and all Western
There may have been a cultural element to this interference as well. Lithuania and Belarus
share a common history stretching to Lithuania’s height as the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and
had been intimately tied to Belarus for centuries (Bennett 2011, 178-179). Besides Russia, it is
hard to imagine a state that felt so at ease in interfering in Belarusian politics as Lithuania.
21
88
politicians that wanted to criticize Belarus22 (Baltic News Service 2004a; Bennett 2011, 174).
Over the next two years, Lithuania actively pushed for EU meetings on relations with Belarus,
wanting the EU to concentrate on developing relations with the opposition and not the
government (Baltic News Service 2004b). All of this was done on top of Lithuania’s long history
of funding and hosting much of the Belarusian opposition, as well as providing radio news across
the border (Baltic News Service 2005). When the attempt at color revolution failed, the Lithuania
parliament pushed for financial sanctions against Belarusian officials, holding onto the hope of
forcing a new election (Baltic News Service 2006b).
The Jailing of Yulia Tymoshenko
The politics of the Ukraine in the 13 years following independence went very much like
Belarus’s. Leonid Kravchuk and Leonid Kuchma would hold the Ukraine’s presidency,
depending on old Communist tactics such as divide-and-rule, marginalizing the opposition and
patronage for supporters (Wilson 2009, 183). Kuchma would do more damage, taking over the
media, entrenching his power and enabling rampant corruption (Wilson 2009, 193-2004). It was
under Kuchma that the infamous Ukrainian corporate oligarchs gained much of their wealth and
came to dominate the Ukrainian economy (Wilson 2005, 40).
However, in 2000, Kuchma’s grip on power began to weaken after his appointment of the
popular Ukrainian nationalist banker Victor Yuschenko as prime minister and the vocal
opposition activist Yulia Tymoshenko, as deputy prime minister. The move was meant to be
another attempt to coopt the opposition, but Yuschenko and Tymoshenko’s determination to go
after the Ukrainian oligarchs caught Kuchma off guard (Wilson 2009, 204-205). Kuchma coursecorrected, probably too much so, in 2002 by backing the bribe-fuelled candidacy of the Russia
These would include, among others, EU High Representative Javier Solana and US Secretary
of State Condoleezza Rice (Bennett 2011, 174).
22
89
sympathizer Victor Yanukovich for prime minister (Wilson 2005, 64-69). The 2002 elections
would set the stage for the dominant conflict in Ukrainian politics from 2004 onward between
Yanukovich and Tymoshenko.
In 2004, the Ukraine’s fate diverged from Belarus’s. Kuchma could no longer protect his
coterie’s interests, leading to the need for a new president. The entrenched interests chose
Yanukovich, a man known for his brutish lack of intelligence who could be easily manipulated
(Wilson 2005, 83). Importantly, however, Yanukovich’s Russian sympathies brought the backing
of Vladimir Putin, who was very popular in the Ukraine and gave several joint appearances with
Yanukovich (Wilson 2005, 94). Yanukovich and his supporters were overly confident, however
and their late attempts at lection fraud were sloppy and obvious (Wilson 2005, 122). Yuschenko
and Tymoshenko led the “orange” protests against the results, which were invalidated by the
Supreme Court (Wilson 2005, 146-147). Yuschenko won the re-run, though he had a paltry
showing in the Russophone east of Ukraine that formed Yanukovich’s support base (Wilson
2005, 153-155). The Orange Revolution had been completed23.
The political alliance between Yuschenko and Tymoshenko quickly broke down in
government. Tymoshenko’s attempts to confiscate the assets of oligarchs and resell them, control
food and energy prices and expand government assistance rankled Yuschenko’s conservative
instincts as a banker to avoid such populist tactics (Wilson 2009, 325-326). The two also ran into
trouble on the subject of political favors, as Yuschenko spent much of his early presidency
repaying the business elite who backed him and Tymoshenko, on her populist bent, tried to
investigate these dealings (Wilson 2009, 326-327). The falling out led to a brief alliance between
For fuller details on the Orange Revolution, see Wilson (2005).
23
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Yuschenko and Yanukovich, now the head of the Party of Regions24 that had been in opposition
before Yuschenko allied with Yanukovich in 2006, before Tymoshenko returned as prime
minister in 2007 (Wilson 2009, 330-336). The damage was irreparable, however, as Tymoshenko
and Yuschenko would spend the rest of Yuschenko’s presidential term in competition with each
other (Wilson 2009, 336).
It became clear that an increasingly weak Yuschenko would soon be irrelevant on
January 1, 2009 when Russia reduced gas pressure through Ukraine’s pipelines. Six days later,
Gazprom completely shut off the gas, claiming that the Ukraine was stealing gas25 (Wilson 2009,
339). Facing a continental crisis and entreaties from EU states, Putin (now prime minister of
Russia) held meetings with Tymoshenko, intentionally cutting out Yuschenko (Wilson 2009,
339). The two agreed to a deal on January 19 that would have wide-reaching implications for the
political crisis that followed in the Ukraine. Gazprom increased prices for the Ukraine and the
Ukrainian energy company, RosUkrEnergo, lost $1.7 billion worth of gas (Wilson 2009, 339340). However, the gas kept flowing, and Gazprom granted a 20 percent discount for 2006
before the price went up to the agreed level (Wilson 2009, 340).
In 2010, Yanukovich was elected president over Tymoshenko in two rounds of
presidential elections (The Economist 2010). After his win, Yanukovich slowly began tightening
his grip on the Ukraine, with his eyes set on neutralizing Tymoshenko (The Economist 2011a).
The accusation that Yanukovich’s government decided to press was that Tymoshenko had acted
illegally when she concluded the gas deal with Putin in 2009, sacrificing Ukrainian interests by
24
The name explicitly refers to Yanukovich’s base in the Russophone south and east of Ukriane.
25
An irony, as when Russia reduced the gas flow in 2006 as noted above, the Ukraine was
actually stealing gas while in early 2009, when Gazprom went further and shut the gas off, the
Ukraine had bought and built up enough reserves that it most likely was not stealing gas (Wilson
2009, 339). Both shutdowns should be considered politically motivated, as will be discussed
below, but the 2009 shutdown was blatantly more so.
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allowing a massive rise in prices for Russian gas going through the Ukraine (The Economist
2011b). The outcome of the trial was inevitable after the charges were pressed. Tymoshenko was
sentenced to seven years in prison in October 2011 on charges of gross malfeasance in the gas
deal (The Economist 2011c). She is currently in prison and faces a more charges from
Yanukovich’s government.
EU and the Ukraine
The EU first committed itself to ties with the Ukraine with the signing of the Partnership
and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) in 1994 (European External Action Service (EEAS)). The
PCA has four objectives: creating a framework for political dialogue between the two parties;
promoting economic relations and sustainable development for both the EU and the Ukraine;
providing a basis for cooperation across several sectors of government; and supporting the
Ukraine’s democratic development (European Commission 1998). This agreement, which, for
the moment, remains the basis for EU-Ukraine relations, would come into force in 1998.
Relations between the EU and the Ukraine grew steadily closer over the next six years.
The EU was the leading giver of foreign assistance to the Ukraine over this period, giving 756.1
million euros of assistance between 1998 and 2002 (European Commission 2004a). The Ukraine
and the EU developed a partnership, as intended, on the PCA and in early 2002 President Leonid
Kuchma declared Ukraine’s desire to eventually become a member (European Commission
2004a). In spite of concerns over human rights in the Ukraine, the EU continued pushing ahead
with association (European Commission 2004a).
Following the Orange Revolution that brought an even more pro-EU regime in, the EU
and the Ukraine began laying the groundwork for integrating the Ukraine further with the EU. In
February 2005, the EU and the Ukraine agreed to an ENP Action Plan to “move beyond
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cooperation to a significant degree of integration”26 (EEAS 2005). In 2006, the EU and the
Ukraine began to have annual summits, alternating between Kiev and the capital of the EU
member state holding the EU Council Presidency (EEAS). In March 2007, the EU and the
Ukraine began negotiating an Association Agreement (AA) that would go far beyond the PCA in
promoting EU-Ukraine cooperation and integration (EU and Ukraine 2007). While the January
2009 gas crisis would prove trying for the EU’s relations with both Russia and the Ukraine, the
EU and the Ukraine were able to patch up differences and begin the effort of improving
Ukrainian gas infrastructure (European Commission 2010). In July 2009, the EU showed support
for energy sector reform in the Ukraine so as to avoid such incidences in the future (European
Commission 2010). The EU would also praise the relatively free and fair presidential election in
2010 that led to Victor Yanukovich being elected president (European Commission 2011).
However, that election would be the last of the purely good feelings between the EU and
Ukraine. The European Commission (2011) noted deterioration in democratic values, freedom of
expression and anti-corruption legislation throughout 2010. In January 2011, EU Commissioner
for Enlargement Stefan Fuele warned against the potential prosecution of Yulia Tymoshenko as
the Ukraine’s prosecutors began focusing on the opposition leader (Reuters 2011). The EU
continued negotiations of the AA with Yanukovich’s government, but grew increasingly
frustrated with what it perceived as double-dealing by the Ukrainians in trying to negotiate with
both the EU and a Russia-led Customs Union (5 Kanal TV 2011).
When Tymoshenko was eventually arrested, the condemnation was fast and furious. High
Representative Catherine Ashton condemned the Ukraine for failing “to avoid any perception of
Notably, this process did not include any discussion of membership. Official, under the ENP,
no state included in the policy can be a candidate for accession. However, it has always been
unclear whether the EU would resist applicants from Eastern Europe like the Ukraine.
26
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selective justice” (ITAR-TASS 2011a). After meeting with Yanukovich on August 30, 2011,
Polish President Bronislaw Komwronski—Poland held the EU Council Presidency—said
barriers existed to further integration of the Ukraine into the EU, namely “the trial of Yulia
Tymoshenko which is received by Europe as politically motivated and not of criminal nature”27
(PAP 2011d). In September 2011, Fuele increased the pressure, saying a conviction would cause
EU-Ukraine relations to “hardly be the same” (Walker 2011). That same month, European
Commission President Juan Manuel Barroso declared that the EU would not sign the negotiated
AA with the Ukraine until there was a resolution in the Tymoshenko case (ITAR-TASS 2011f).
After Tymoshenko was convicted in 2011, the EU called off a meeting with Yanukovich to
signal its displeasure (Castle and Barry 2011).
In 2012, the drumbeat for action against the Ukraine grew louder. On March 4, five EU
foreign ministers28 denounced the trial of Tymoshenko in The New York Times (Bildt et al.
2012). In April 2012, after the head of the EU delegation to the Ukraine had not been allowed to
investigate allegations that Tymoshenko’s guards were beating her, the EU began to consider
sanctions against the Ukraine (ITAR-TASS 2012c). In the meantime, the EU also threatened to
boycott the European Football Championship tournament being co-hosted by the Ukraine and
Poland in 2012 (McLaughlin 2012). Leading up to the tournament, Tymoshenko’s reorganized
and renamed Fatherland Party asked the EU to impose sanctions on top Ukrainian officials
(ITAR-TASS 2012d). After the tournament, when Ukraine’s highest court rejected
Tymoshenko’s appeal of her conviction, the EU censured the Ukraine again (Halpin 2012).
For all the bloviating over the treatment of Tymoshenko, the EU has actually done very
Poland itself was not nearly as harsh on the Ukraine. See “Poland” subsection of “Member
States and the Ukraine” section, page 101
28
Carl Bildt of Sweden, William Hague of the UK, Radoslaw Sykorski of Poland, Karel
Schwarzenberg of the Czech Republic and Guido Westerwelle of Germany.
27
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little to punish Yanukovich’s government. No sanctions were ever imposed. The annual summits
continued, albeit with the 2012 summit being delayed until February 2013. The AA process
continued, if at a slower rate than expected. AA talks were completed in December 2011 (PAP
2011e). The AA was initialed, though not signed, on March 30, 2012 (Iwaniuk 2012). At the
meeting of the foreign ministers formation of the EU Council in February 2013, the EU declared
its expectation to sign the AA with the Ukraine in Vilinus this upcoming November during the
Lithuanian presidency (Baltic News Service 2013a).
At the same time, the Ukraine never stopped expressing confidence and conviction that it
had a place in the EU. After Tymoshenko’s arrest, Deputy Prime Minister of the Ukraine Sergei
Tigipko stated that while the Tymoshenko case impeded further association with the EU, the
Ukraine preferred eventual reconciliation with the EU to turning to Russia (ITAR-TASS 2011b).
Yanukovich intentionally chose to remain in Kiev for the conclusion of AA negotiations over
going to Moscow, saying “the united Europe project will be incomplete as long as the Ukrainian
people remain outside it” (ITAR-TASS 2011g). As for the condemnation by EU officials, the
Ukrainian government responded that the EU may not have all the facts of the Tymoshenko case
and that this condemnation was part of a dialogue process that would confirm that “the
Ukrainians belonged in the European family” (5 Kanal TV 2012). The Ukrainian government
was clearly unfazed by the EU’s threats and condemnations, expecting that negotiations would
continue regardless of the Tymoshenko case.
Russia and the Ukraine29
Any discussion of the politics of the Ukraine must include Russia’s involvement in the
29
A short discussion of the relationship between the Ukraine and Russia hardly does justice to
the incredibly complex relationship that these two states/ethnic groups/empires have had for over
a millennium. See Wilson (2009) for more details.
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Ukraine. Beyond the longstanding ties between the two states, the Ukraine is divided into two
identifiable linguistic regions: the Ukrainophone west and north and the Russophone east and
south. In the Russophone regions, Russophilia is common phenomenon as many Russianspeakers see Russia as their ethnic center and geopolitical guide (Wilson 2009, 294). After
independence, partially due to these factors, the Ukraine could not make a clean break from
Russia like the three Baltic States that are now in the EU, becoming part of the Russia-led
Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) (Wilson 2009, 170). The Ukraine, however, never
warmed up to its relationship with Russia, always allying itself with reluctant CIS states such as
Georgia, Moldova and Uzbekistan in the bloc (Wilson 2009, 296).
While relations were by no means very close between independence and the Orange
Revolution in 2004, especially if compared to the relations between Belarus and Russia during
the same period, they were still better than after the revolution. After more than a decade of
providing the Ukraine with gas at a discount rate, Russia pressuring the Ukraine by accusing it of
stealing gas in 2005 and 2006 while lowering the pressure of gas moving through the pipeline
(Wilson 2009, 326-327). In 2009, as discussed above, Russia complete cut off gas through the
pipeline. All of this maneuvered around pushing to get Yanukovich elected in 2010, which
occurred, leading to change in Russian policy (Sussex 2012). Russia became much more
cooperative on energy politics and began seeing if it would be possible to merge the Ukraine’s
transport company Naftogaz with Gazprom (Sussex 2012).
It appears there was an expectation that the Ukraine under Yanukovich would become
much more Russia friendly, which was true to a certain extent. Yanukovich was more open to the
Customs Union proposed by Russia than Tymoshenko would likely ever have been as he sought
to negotiate deals with the Customs Union and the EU simultaneously (Ukrayina 2012). The
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Customs Union, which includes Russia, Belarus and Kazakhstan, is meant to be Russia’s counter
to the EU influence now encroaching Russia’s neighborhood. Unlike the EU, the Customs Union
does not have the strict political criteria of open democracy, fair elections and human rights, as
can probably be told from the membership. However, it does come with the catch that members
have to follow Russian leadership. Russia was confident that Yanukovich would join the
Customs Union, bringing Russia back into its preferred sphere of influence (Sussex 2012).
Russia’s confidence in Yanukovich appeared to be misplaced, however. Yanukovich
appeared to mostly use the Customs Union as a tool to increase EU anxiety, stating Ukraine’s
interest in the Customs Union, but always returning to the EU being the Ukraine’s top priority
(UT1 2012). Yanukovich also attacked Russian gas interests by indicting Tymoshenko. Russia
views the allegations of malfeasance by Tymoshenko in the 2009 gas deal as an attempt to drive
the price of gas down without reciprocation in the form of membership in the Customs Union
(The Economist 2011c). Still worse, Yanukovich has personally disrespected Putin several times,
postponing his meeting with Putin in 2013 until after the Ukraine-EU summit, something that
infuriated the Russian President (Medalinskas 2013). The result of these efforts has been a
Russian government with a choice between a president in the Ukraine who sees the Customs
Union as at best a back-up, at worst a useful decoy, in negotiations with the EU and an
opposition that goes out of its way to state its opposition to the Customs Union (ITAR-TASS
2011h). While Putin and Russia may believe that the Ukraine is in its sphere of interest,
Yanukovich is running from Putin as fast as possible.
Russia and the EU Around the Indictment of Tymoshenko
EU-Russia relations around the indictment of Tymoshenko were going poorly. In the area
of gas transport, the EU’s attempt at liberalizing its gas market through its Third Energy Package
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was a sore spot for Russia. The Package, created in 2007, called for the “unbundling” of
production and supply in energy transit (European Commission 2007). This would mean that the
same company could not control both production of energy supplies and its transit to the EU
market. Since Gazprom had intentionally gone out of its way to control production and transit,
this initiative seemed to directly target the Russian firm. Indeed, in September 2011, the
European Commission raided Gazprom facilities in several EU member states, accusing the
company of violating EU anti-trust law (Moscow News 2011). Putin denounced the anti-trust
probe, which is ongoing, as “non-constructive” and stated that he regretted the EU was taking
such an action (Europolitics 2012). Gazprom accused the EU of using anti-trust rules to secure
discounts, using the EU’s proposal of collaboration with the already deadbeat Ukrainians as
proof (Interfax 2012b).
On visa-free travel, good intentions soon ran off the rails of disagreements over human
rights. In December 2011, the EU and Russia agreed on plan for visa-free travel between the
two. These “Common Steps”, however, soon ran aground due to EU criticism of the human
rights situation in Russia. Many members of the EU wanted visa-free travel to be conditioned on
Russia’s respect for human rights, a position that the Russians excoriated (ITAR-TASS 2012e).
Faced with accusations of human rights abuses by the EU, Russia responded in kind, accusing
the EU of allowing for increases in racism, xenophobia and nationalism while preventing free
competition in the media market (RIA Novosti 2012). In further discussions, Putin dragged up
the old position on the abuse of Russian minorities in the Baltic States, accusing the EU of
turning a blind eye to the abuse of the Russian population in Latvia and Estonia (Putin 2012).
Added onto this dispute was the continuing fight over EU sanctions in Belarus. Putin
accused the EU of following the American example of unilateral sanctions leading to forcible
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regime change, citing the Iraqi and Libyan examples as templates for the EU’s actions (Interfax
2012a). The EU countered that Lukashenka’s suppression of the opposition and rigging of
elections was unacceptable and could not be ignored (ITAR-TASS 2012b).
Member States and the Ukraine
Germany
Of the EU member states, Germany was the most hawkish on the issue of Tymoshenko’s
arrest. Germany never held a deep belief in the Ukraine’s eventual membership in the EU
(Wilson 2005, 191). When the 2009 gas crisis hit, German Chancellor Angela Merkel’s first
reaction was to enter into discussions with Vladimir Putin, then prime minister of Russia, not
with either Yuschenko or Tymoshenko (DDP 2009). In general, Germany was annoyed with the
Ukraine for its squabbling with Russia that was such a potential existential threat to the rest of
Europe. In November 2011, when the Nord Stream pipeline directly connecting Russia to
Germany to transit gas was inaugurated, Merkel was relieved that Europe would now be assured
a steady gas supply (Watkins 2011). Clearly the Germans had no faith in the Ukraine and blamed
it for the gas crises that had gripped the EU since the Orange Revolution.
When Tymoshenko was arrested, the Germans were relentless in their criticism. Merkel
believed that the Ukraine had crossed the boundary to the point where it was no longer
respecting European values and therefore was not worthy of closer relations (ITAR-TASS
2011c). After Tymoshenko’s conviction, Germany began demanding that AA talks slowed down,
ominously warning that further transgressions could lead to the path to Europe being closed (Der
Spiegel 2011). In the following year, Merkel would lead the charge for EU leaders to boycott the
European Football Championship and German Foreign Minister Guido Westerwelle began
threatening to sink the AA, saying it could not be ratified “if conditions for the rule of law are
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not clearly kept to” (McLaughlin 2012; Parfitt and Waterfield 2012). However, the rhetoric has
eased recently and Germany has since stopped threatening to block the AA, instead having
Westerwelle state, “The condition for the rapprochement between Ukraine and the EU is first of
all the respect to European values” (Inter TV 2013). Germany has also begun sending officials
with EU delegations to affirm the Ukraine’s readiness to potentially sign the AA this coming
November, a stark change in policy (ITAR-TASS 2013).
France
France was highly critical of the Ukraine after Tymoshenko’s arrest, but never went to
the same lengths as Germany in threatening completion of the AA. Instead, Foreign Minister
Alain Juppe stated that respect for the rule of law was important if the Ukraine was to be further
integrated into the EU (Juppe 2011). French ministers boycotted French matches in the Ukraine
during the European Football Championship, but were never as strident as the Germans in
calling for a pan-EU boycott (Topsfield 2012). In general, while France has shown concern for
the issue, it has not deeply invested itself in the crisis and has often deferred to Poland on the
issue (Lorenz 2011).
United Kingdom
Similar to France, the UK has not invested much energy in the Tymoshenko crisis. While
the British were unhappy with Tymoshenko’s arrest, they were unwilling to turn the Ukraine into
a pariah state over the issue (Booth 2012). While British ministers also boycotted English
matches in the Ukraine, they resisted the concept of a pan-EU boycott as being too extraordinary
a measure (Topsfield 2012; Booth 2012). The UK affirmed throughout the crisis its support for
the Ukraine’s bid for accession to the EU and its desire for cooperation with the Ukraine, while
noting its displeasure at Tyomshenko’s incarceration (Elder 2011; Canning 2013).
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Italy
Italy often is of two minds on the Ukraine. On the one hand, Italy was highly critical of
the Tymoshenko arrest and can be quite wary about engaging in the Ukraine. While Italy did not
boycott the European Football Championship, Italian Prime Minister Mario Monti delivered a
letter to the Ukrainian government expressing Italy’s concern over Tymoshenko’s arrest during
the tournament final between Italy and Spain (Rampino 2012). Italy also tries not to upset Russia
too much, hoping to profit from a South Stream pipeline that would deliver gas under the Black
Sea directly from Russia to southern Europe (Sforza 2013; Sunday Herald Sun 2012).
On the other hand, Italy is very supportive of the Ukraine’s integration into the EU and
movement away from Russia. Monti’s letter also confirmed Italian support of a European future
for the Ukraine and Italy often supports Poland, a state that is very unfriendly with Russia, on the
issue of the Ukraine (Rampino 2012; Polish News Bulletin 2012). Italy also recognizes that there
is some amount of competition between the EU and Russia over influence in the Ukraine and it
would prefer the EU win. In sum, Italy would prefer Ukraine’s human rights record to be better
and wants to avoid antagonizing Russia, but generally backs the EU.
Poland
Poland and the Ukraine have a long, friendly relationship, dating back to Ukraine’s
independence, which Poland was the first to recognize in 1991 (PAP 2011a). Since joining the
EU, Poland has been a proponent of the Ukraine’s integration into the EU, believing it could
stem Russian influence (Balmforth and Reuters 2011; PAP 2011a). This close relationship and
Poland’s eagerness to bring the Ukraine into the EU led both sides to hope that the AA would be
signed under the Polish presidency of the EU Council from July to December 2011 (PAP 2011b).
As discussed above, this goal would not be achieved under the Polish presidency. While
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Poland continued to push the AA negotiations with the Ukraine, the debate and consternation
swirling around Tymoshenko’s arrest in July 2011 proved to be difficult for the Poles to bear.
Poland found itself caught between pressing the Ukraine not to jeopardize its EU prospects while
trying to deepen the relationship between a now reluctant EU and a defiant Ukraine. Polish
foreign minister Roman Sikorski emphasized that the Ukraine’s location did not give the Ukraine
“the right to ignore the basic European principles” (ITAR-TASS 2011d). At the same time,
Poland insisted that it would continue to push the Ukraine’s case in Brussels, putting Poland in
the almost untenable position of being both the Ukraine’s prosecutor and advocate from its
position in the EU Council presidency (ITAR-TASS 2011e). In the end, its prosecutor role won
out and the minimum possible progress was made on the AA: negotiations were closed.
After this apparent failure inside the EU Council presidency, Poland insisted on the need
for dialogue with the Ukraine as opposed to isolation. Tusk emphasized the need for Poland
facilitate a rapprochement between the EU and the Ukraine while arguing that any boycott of the
European Football Championship would not help the situation in the Ukraine30 (ITAR-TASS
2012a; The Independent 2012). By 2013, Poland was again advocating for the signature of the
AA, believing whether or not the agreement was signed in Lithuania this fall would determine
whether or not Polish foreign policy had a successful year (Stankiewicz 2013).
Lithuania
Forever dreading Russian encroachment, Lithuania was a consistent advocate of dialogue
and rapprochement with the Ukraine. Lithuania argued for of swift completion and signature of
the AA, believing it would help bring the Ukraine even closer to the EU (PAP 2011c). Lithuania
also downplayed the Tymoshenko trial as mistake; however, Lithuania President Dalia
30
Of course, Poland, as a co-host of the tournament, was not indifferent to the decision.
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Grybauskaite admitted that an “objective and fair trial” was necessary to “bring Ukraine closer to
the European Union” (Baltic News Service 2011). Lithuania, in general, believed that other EU
member states did not realize the risk in isolating the Ukraine, believing that the Ukraine needed
to be integrated into the EU to stem sinister Russian influence (Baltic News Service 2012). For
this reason, Lithuania vehemently opposed boycotts of the European Football Championships
and all punitive measures (Interfax-Ukraine 2012). Currently, Lithuania hopes for the AA to be
signed during its presidency this year from July to December. Lithuania has warned the Ukraine
that it could not have both the EU integration and the Russia-led Customs Union and that it
hopes the Ukraine will choose the EU (Baltic News Service 2013b).
Analysis
It is difficult to assess whether individualist or structuralist frames of reference are the
most useful in the two cases discussed in this chapter. There were disagreements among the
member states, but these disagreements were not substantive and did not prevent a united EU
position. Positions among the member states generally varied in degree of activism for sanctions,
but not in essential content. In the Belarus case, Lithuania and Poland were very active while
Italy was more cautious, though all conceded the need for sanctions against Belarus. In the
Ukraine case, Germany was very active on the need to punish the Ukraine for its treatment of
Tymoshenko while Poland and Lithuania insisted on the need to continue the Ukraine’s
integration into Europe, a position to which the Germans eventually assented. Closeness with
Russia appeared to be the defining factor of a how a state behaved: Germany and Italy had a
much better relationship with Russia than Poland and Lithuania, explaining why Italy was closer
to the Russian position for dialogue with Belarus and Germany was closer to the Russian
position for punishing the Ukraine. However, neither Germany nor Italy contested the
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assumptions of Poland and Lithuania of the need to punish Belarus and be lenient on the
Ukraine, allowing for an anti-Russia EU policy in both states. While there may have been a
variety of positions, they were all variations on the same hue that was less tolerant of pro-Russia
Belarus than it was of the pro-EU Ukraine. Lack of significant argument does not confirm or
refute structuralist explanations—it is, in fact, indicative of the logic of appropriateness—but the
lack of significant disagreement that could paralyze policy allows for individualist explanations.
In terms of how sates acted during their EU Council presidencies, there is very little on
whether structuralist or individualist explanations should be considered more compelling. The
two cases suffer from small sample size, only including one interested and/or powerful member
state holding the EU Council presidency in each case. In the Belarus case, the UK kept up the
EU’s cold relationship with Belarus during its 2005 presidency, but this position varied little
from the UK’s own position, meaning it is not useful for determining whether or not strucutralist
or individualist explanations are more compelling. The situation in Belarus also meant very little
to the UK, meaning it was unlikely to be very active. In the Ukraine case, Poland’s 2011 EU
Council presidency shows Poland reacting to EU pressure to be more hawkish on the Ukraine
than Poland wanted to be. This would indicate a strong logic of appropriateness dictating
Poland’s actions or that individualist frameworks would work better for analyzing the EU’s
decisions, but would also accord a tremendous amount of importance to a single data point that
lacks any real context. As seen last chapter, single data points can be bizarrely out of line with
other data. For this reason, I will go through all six schools of thought for these two cases.
In terms of the logic of consequences, only two EU member states could have been said
to have a truly positive relationship with Russia in these two cases: Italy and Germany. Italy,
however, did not see performing friendly actions for Russia to always be mandatory,
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acknowledging that the EU and Russia were in a competition in the Ukraine and Italy preferred
the EU to win, while simply hoping that it would not cause too much turbulence in its
relationship with Russia. Germany acted rather aggressively in Russia’s interest after the jailing
of Tymoshenko out of its own preference of its relationship with Russia over its relationship with
the Ukraine, but came back to the EU position, in spite of Russia’s continued grievances with
Yanukovich. Germany also came into direct conflict with Russia over Belarus, in spite of the
friendly relations between the states. Italy and Germany appear both violate Hypothesis 1-131,
which posits that a member state friendly to the external great power interested in the target actor
will only approve sanctions if they do not have a negative effect on its relationship with that
great power. Germany found itself fighting over the legitimacy of elections in Belarus with
Russia and Italy acknowledged that it was likely competing with Russia in the Ukraine, both
actions that would rankle a Russia that believed the EU meddled too much in its neighborhood.
Due to this violation of Hypothesis 1-1, the logic of consequences does not appear compelling.
The lack of contestation over whether or not Poland’s, Lithuania’s and the EU’s positions
in general were legitimate also defies the logic of arguing. Germany and Italy had very different
relationships with Russia than it eastern counterparts and the supranational body as a whole and
had a very different view of what positive relations with Russia meant: for Poland and Lithuania,
it meant Russian influence and control; for Italy and Germany, it meant easy access to Russian
gas and economic growth. However, there was no truth seeking in either case, with Italy and
Germany always backing the common EU policy. This behavior violates Hypothesis 3-3 that
differing relationships with the external interested great power will lead to deadlock. No
deadlock occurred and the common EU policy was accepted.
31
For all hypotheses and explanations, see Table 1 on page 38
105
In contrast, the logic of appropriateness appears to be very strong in both cases. No
member state deviated from the official EU position at any point. In the Belarus case, the only
apparent wavering was in Italy in 2006, when the Italians declared their desire for greater
engagement with Belarus. Italy, however, affirmed EU decisions and both were quick to affirm
that they remained committed to the EU’s policy. In the Ukraine case, Germany may have
threatened to stop AA negotiations over the jailing of Tymoshenko and Lithuania may have
downplayed the significance of the arrest, but both followed the EU’s position that it was
disappointed in Tymoshenko’s imprisonment, but still open to discuss the Ukraine’s integration
with the EU. Italy, in fact, explicitly deferred to the EU’s interest in the Ukraine, simply hoping
to avoid problems with Russia. It does not appear that any state wanted to entrap the others for
Russia’s sake in either case, making the question of entrapment of a moot point. All of the states
wanted a single EU foreign policy and chose to follow one set out by the EU. This affirms
Hypothesis 2a, which suggests that member states will defer to individualist interests if there are
not sufficient conditions for entrapment.
Given that the strongest of the three logics was the logic of appropriateness in its
assumption that, without entrapment, member states will defer to individualist policies, it is then
important to look at which of those individualist policies would be most relevant. The first that
can be thrown out is the explanation assuming the EU is a cooperative, rationalist actor. The EU
went out of its way to conflict with Russia, undermining a pro-Russian leader and trying to draw
the Ukraine away from Russia. The EU made no effort to cooperate with Russia in either case
and had poor relations with Russia during both cases. All of these realities show the EU has no
qualms jeopardizing cooperation with Russia, violating Hypothesis 5-1.
This leaves the explanations that the EU acted normatively in the Ukraine and Belarus or
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the EU acted as a competitive rationalist actor in the Ukraine and Belarus. If the EU was a
normative actor, its actions during the Beslan crisis in 2004 described in the Belarus case study
and its holding up visa liberalization with Russia over human rights would certainly indicate that
the EU felt an interest in reforming Russia, partially fulfilling Hypothesis 4-1, where the EU
would base its sanctions decision-making on spreading its norms to the interested external great
power. However, Russian resistance to reform may have driven the EU away from pursuing that
path towards simply trying to contain Russian norms.
However, at Hypothesis 4-2, that the EU will sanction a target actor if that actor regresses
from EU norms to the norms of an external great power, the connection between the EU’s desire
to spread norms and its sanctions decision-making breaks down. Both Yanukovich and
Lukashenka adapt tactics that would be popular in Russia, going off of the EU’s human rights
complaints: they used the state to suppress the opposition and ensure their own power so as to
retain political stability and access to resources. While hardly a set of norms exclusive to Russia,
it represented a regression for the Ukraine, though, ironically, not Belarus. However, the Ukraine
was not sanctioned while Belarus was, showing that the EU must have used other factors for
making its decision.
This leaves the competitive rationalist EU hypotheses, which fit the two cases perfectly.
First, looking at the Belarus case, the EU chose to adapt a policy of undermining Lukashenka’s
regime and supporting a democratic revolution in the state while its relations with Russia were
deteriorating due to such a revolution in the Ukraine and the gas crisis that Russia would cause in
January 2006. While correlation does not mean causation, the EU appeared to connect the two in
the timing of its sanctions, not immediately after the vote, but two months later, right before its
summit with Russia. The EU seemed to be readying itself to overthrow Lukashenka’s regime
107
and, when it failed, it put the blame on Russia for supporting a dictator. This behavior fits
Hypothesis 6-1, suggesting that the EU will place sanctions on target actors loyal to other
interested great powers in the hope of changing the EU’s behavior.
Second, in the Ukraine case, the EU appeared terrified of the idea that the Ukraine would
choose the Russia-led Customs Union over the EU, taking Yanukovich’s rhetoric seriously. The
European Commission’s frustration with the Ukraine’s apparent double-dealing between the EU
and the Customs Union and lack of sanctions seem to follow the logic that the EU desperately
wanted to keep the Ukraine oriented towards the EU and not Russia. That the EU was
undermining Gazprom, which had been such a constant thorn in the Ukraine’s side, could only
have helped relations between the EU and the Ukraine. The EU members’ unanimous declaration
of Ukraine’s eventual place in Europe only puts further emphasis on the fact that the EU wanted
the Ukraine to be within its orbit, not Russia’s. This conforms with Hypothesis 6-2 that the EU
will not place sanctions on target actors that are friendly to EU interests out of fear that those
states will turn to other great powers. Thus these two European Neighborhood Policy cases
support the logic of appropriateness and Hypothesis 2a while also strongly supporting both
hypotheses that assume that the EU is a competitive, rational actor.
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Chapter Six
Conclusion
This thesis had two purposes at its outset, one broad and one narrow. At the broader
purpose, it sought to contribute to the literature about European Union foreign policy decisionmaking. The concept of the EU having a foreign policy is still quite new and the literature
surrounding it has not quite reached its logical conclusion. This was demonstrated in Chapter
Two in the discussion of how to analyze the EU. Many of the scholars focusing on how it was
possible for the many member states of the EU to cooperate for a single foreign policy simply
did not consider how external forces impacted those member states’ actions and decisions within
the EU framework. The scholars who considered the EU to be a single actor treated its relations
with all other actors as being of equal value to the EU.
This thesis tried to fill in for these omissions and oversights. At the theoretical level, in
Chapter Two, I added addendums to the most compelling explanations for EU foreign policy
decision-making that eventually led to the conclusion that external great powers were of
tremendous importance in EU decision-making. This conclusion was borne out repeatedly
throughout the four case studies in Chapters Four and Five. In the MEK case, the EU as a whole
barely paid attention to MEK beyond it being an irritant in the EU’s attempt at rapprochement
with Iran. Among the individual member states, every member state pushing for the MEK to be
sanctioned did so in the context of trying to achieve better relations with Iran. France, the single
member state that was wary of sanctions against MEK, demonstrated its discomfort by trying to
derail this rapprochement.
In the Hezbollah case, the EU could not come up with a policy of its own due to the
differing interests of its member states in not antagonizing Iran. With the exception of the
109
Netherlands, all of the states interested in the question of sanctions against Hezbollah took their
position with Iran in mind. Italy and France objected to blacklisting Hezbollah because it could
antagonize Iran and drive the Iranians away from dialogue on their nuclear program. They also
objected to blacklisting Hezbollah because it could take away a route to ending the current civil
war in Syria. At the same time, the UK and Germany argued for blacklisting due at least partially
to Iranian behavior. In the UK’s case, it was not a Hezbollah attack that caused the UK to
advocate for blacklisting, but the advancement of the Iranian nuclear program. For Germany, the
concerns of needing to avoid antagonizing Iran were outweighed by Iran allowing Hezbollah to
use violence on European soil.
In the Belarus case in Chapter Five, Russia was the dominant force behind why sanctions
were put in place. The EU had grown tired of Russia trying to prop up pro-Russia dictators in the
EU’s neighborhood and decided to try to expand European influence into Belarus by
undermining Lukashenka. Russia-friendly states like Germany and Italy went along with this
policy as part of the interests of the EU while Lithuania and Poland sought to undermine
Lukashenka to stem the tide of Russian influence.
In the Ukraine case, Yanukovich’s EU-friendly posture protected him from sanctions
even after he jailed Tymoshenko. For the EU, a EU-oriented Ukraine was worth the price of
ignoring some human rights violations, as it undermined Russian influence and created an ally in
the EU’s fight against Gazprom. At the level of individual states, the Ukraine case played out
much like the Belarus case where Poland and Lithuania argued against sanctions to preserve EU
influence as a bulwark against Russia while Germany and Italy conceded that the EU was in a
competition with Russia in the Ukraine and it was in their best interests for the EU to win.
All of these empirical points come back to the same conclusion: EU sanctions decisions
110
were never about MEK, Hezbollah, Belarus or the Ukraine; they all were focused on Iran or
Russia. Explanations that would have ignored the EU and its member states’ relationship with
Iran and Russia would have gravely misrepresented the four cases.
As a narrower goal, this thesis sought to explain what determined the EU’s use of
economic and financial sanctions. This question was chosen for examining EU foreign policy
decision-making because the EU’s financial centers and large market is its greatest source of
power and therefore understanding it has the most impact on understanding the EU’s role in the
international system. It also provided a useful framework for showing how external great powers
can affect EU foreign policy decision-making.
Six sets of hypotheses were extracted from the Chapter Two discussion of EU foreign
policy decision-making, with one for each school of thought viable enough to modify to consider
great power influence. Of these schools of thought, three did not find support in either chapter.
First, one structualist school of thought posited that member states follow the logic of arguing
when deciding foreign policy among themselves, airing out differences to find truth, i.e. the true
definition of an EU norm or interest. Modified, this school of thought expected member states’
relationship with the external great power to affect how arguments were weighed, with hostile
member states taking the opposite position of the external power’s and friendly member states
taking the same position. However, in neither chapter did truth seeking take place. In Chapter
Four, France specifically avoided truth seeking behavior, preferring sabotage in the MEK case
and denial in the Hezbollah case. In the Hezbollah case, Italy also engaged in denial while
Germany and the UK avoided the issue. In Chapter Five, Germany and Italy did not contest
Poland and Lithuania’s reading of EU norms and interests in either case, even though they
appeared to have opposite positions and place greater value on the opinion of Russia. The lack of
111
truth seeking behavior belies the logic of arguing making it irrelevant.
The second school of thought to fail in both chapters was the individualist concept of the
cooperative rationalist EU. It posited that the EU would avoid conflict with external great powers
so that it could cooperate with those powers on EU interests. In Chapter Four, however, the
Hezbollah case invalidated all individualist explanations by suggesting that it took member
states’ agreement to sanction a terrorist group. In Chapter Five, the EU specifically sought out
conflict with Russia, going against the cooperative rationalist explanation. Since both chapters
flatly rejected the cooperative rationalist explanation, it became irrelevant.
The third school of thought failing in both chapters was the individualist concept of a
normative EU. The normative EU seeks to perpetuate EU norms throughout the international
system. It will prioritize spreading its norms to external great powers because that is the quickest
and most effective way to change the norms of the international system, but it will also seek to
prevent any regression, sanctioning states and groups that adopt an external great power’s norms.
Like the cooperative rationalist EU explanation, the normative EU explanation was rejected in
Chapter Four because of the divisions within the EU seen in the Hezbollah case. In Chapter Five,
the EU appeared to be trying to spread its norms to Russia, but it was not punishing regression in
the Ukraine, suggesting different considerations at work.
Beyond these three schools of thought, two schools of thought were validated in one
chapter, but not the other. The structualist school of thought states that member states follow the
logic of consequences when voting on sanctions found support in Chapter Four. This logic
suggested that member states who were friendly with the external great power would only vote
for sanctions if sanctions did not have negative consequences for their relationship with that
external great power, while hostile member states would either disregard the consequences or
112
would intentionally try to harm the external great power. In both Chapter Four cases, this logic
appeared to be relevant. Every member state besides France wanted to improve their relationship
with Iran by sanctioning MEK. France did not care about the consequences for its relationship
with Iran, regarding its relationship with its fellow member states as more important. In the
Hezbollah case, the consequences of sanctioning Hezbollah were intolerable for France and Italy
who wanted to maintain a dialogue with Iran to potentially freeze its nuclear program and end
the civil war in Syria. The consequences of not sanctioning Hezbollah, however, were intolerable
for Germany and the UK, creating deadlock within the EU as the logic of consequences
prevented consensus.
In Chapter Five, however, Germany and Italy, states that were friendly with Russia,
specifically ignored the consequences of sanctions against Belarus and the Ukraine in the two
case studies. The Italians even explicitly referenced the concept that the EU and Russia were in
competition in the Ukraine, which Italy hoped would not cause problems for it with Russia, but
might do so anyways. This attitude does not accord with the logic of consequences as Germany
and Italy signed off on sanctions against a state of which Russia approved and agreed to no
sanctions against the Ukraine, a state that Russia was pressuring.
The individualist explanation that the EU is a competitive rationalist actor, however,
works wonderfully in Chapter Five. This explanation posits that the EU views itself as a
competitor to other great powers and that it will seek out conflict and seek to expand, or at least
maintain, its influence. The EU in both Belarus and the Ukraine puts itself on the opposite side
of Russia, trying to undermine the Lukashenka regime while enticing the Ukraine towards the
EU. Relations with Russia during both cases are fraught with tension, some of which spills over
into how the EU interacts with Russia in both of these cases. This behavior seems to show the
113
EU is trying to expand its influence east through the ENP and potential future membership for its
eastern partners. This process necessarily competes with Russian influence and causes the EU to
try to undermine Russia in every way possible.
In Chapter Four, however, the division within the EU prevent there from being an
individualist explanation. Even if the EU did not go to pieces over Hezbollah, however, the EU’s
behavior towards Iran was cooperative, not competitive. The EU always sought to engage the
Iranians in dialogue and its policy towards Hezbollah was indicative of that fact.
The only school of thought to receive some amount of support in both chapters is the
explanation that the logic of appropriateness dominates states’ actions. The logic of
appropriateness argues that states will uphold the image of unity within the institution. This
allows some member states to push through their policies and force member states that may not
like them to follow those policies in a process called entrapment. If the conditions for
entrapment32 are not met, states will defer to an individualist position.
In Chapter Four, several member states used the logic of appropriateness to force France
to sanction MEK, a terrorist group to which it had given shelter for 21 years and it forced the UK
to hold a meeting with leaders of Hezbollah, who the UK had, days earlier, accused of planning
an attack that killed eight British soldiers. A strong need for unity held the French and the British
to policies to which they never would have agreed otherwise. The common decision of the bloc
to prioritize its relations with Iran in both cases pushed two member states to decisions they may
never have made. It is true that the UK did break from the other member states in the case of
Hezbollah, but it was only after Hezbollah’s sponsor, Iran, had repeatedly violated promises to
halt its nuclear program. Germany only did the same after it became obvious that Iran had let
See “Logic of Appropriateness and the EU”, p. 19.
32
114
Hezbollah off the leash to attack targets in Europe. The need of the UK and Germany for the
power of the bloc kept the EU from appearing disunited—with the exception of the outlier
Netherlands—on the issue of Hezbollah far longer than it would have otherwise.
In Chapter Five, the needs of the EU bloc further trumped the needs of individual
member states, to the point that all member states were deferring to the interests of this
supranational body of which they were a part. Italy publicly acknowledged that it might have
been supporting policies towards Russia that went against its own interests, but preferred
following the EU’s lead to causing paralysis. Germany also appeared to defer to the EU instead
of acting in accordance with its positive interests towards Russia. While this explanation gets
folded into the individualist explanation described above, the logic of appropriateness is still
apparent.
Put together, the two chapters and the four case studies within them provide a consistent
patter that, when dealing with issues that may affect their relations with great powers, EU
member states prefer to act as a bloc. It takes extraordinary circumstances for them to break this
bloc since doing so would paralyze the EU and make it weak. Therefore, when presented with
sanctions as a policy option, EU member states will prefer the policy that promotes unity. This
allows for entrapment, as in the MEK case, and it may cause member states to support policy
initiatives that hurt their interests, as in the Belarus and Ukraine cases. Even if the logic of
appropriateness is not dominant, as in the Hezbollah case, it weighs down heavily on the other
logics, changing the calculations of consequences and arguments. Unity is to be preserved above
all other goals.
This study is hardly exhaustive and only points to the possibility that external great
powers affect EU foreign policy decision-making by promoting unity, allowing for entrapment
115
and individualist explanations to be possibilities. Further studies would hopefully dive into how
the EU approaches the possibility of sanctioning an external great power, as in the case of Iran
and its nuclear program. They should also go beyond sanctions, where EU unity is of obvious
utility, to areas where it may be less helpful, such as in peacekeeping and global environmental
policy. Checking the robustness of the logic of appropriateness within the EU when encountering
great powers could further help our understanding of the EU’s foreign policy as a whole,
something with which this thesis has hopefully helped.
The study of EU foreign policy decision-making remains incomplete. Hopefully by
viewing the EU and its member states as actors that act and react based on their relations with
great powers, we can come to better understand how this new supranational entity works and
how it affects the international system.
116
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