In times of Crisis, Bring on the Technocrats

This article first appeared on the Globe and Mail

Is the European Union’s supposed “democratic deficit” now spreading to individual European countries in the wake of the sovereign-debt crisis? The rise of unelected technocrats to political power in Greece and Italy suggests, at least superficially, that the old taboo against technocratic governments pursuing an EU-dictated agenda has been shattered.

Consider Italy. Most Italians breathed a collective sigh of relief that three-time Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi is being replaced by a technocrat par excellence, former European Commissioner Mario Monti, a respected economist. Greece, too, is turning over the reigns of government to an unelected, and supposedly apolitical, technocrat, Lucas Papademos, a former vice president of the European Central Bank.

Of course, there are many things wrong with the EU nowadays, but a widening of its so-called “democratic deficit” is not one of them. Indeed, that perceived deficit is something of a politically convenient canard. Scholars such as Princeton University’s Andrew Moravcsik have long argued that the EU’s legitimacy comes not from the ballot box, but from its ability to provide concrete benefits to citizens. What the EU achieves through integrating markets – or even eliminating passport controls – underscores the benefits of its “delegated democracy.”

Indeed, it is precisely the Eurocrats’ detachment from everyday politics that has enabled the EU to deliver. Contrary to the ranting of Euroskeptic politicians in Britain and, increasingly, in eurozone member countries, the growing disenchantment of voters with politics reflects the distance that has grown between promises and results, not the distance between EU officials and member states’ citizens.

According to an alarming poll published recently by the leading Italian newspaper La Repubblica, more than 22% of Italians find no great differences between an authoritarian and a democratic system of government. Another 10% believe that an authoritarian regime is better and more effective than a democratic political system.

This disturbing decline of faith in democracy, which is not confined to Italy, brings us back to the powerful rationale underlying Europeans’ growing reliance on technocratic governance: security. From the end of World War II to the collapse of the Soviet Union, what brought Europeans closer together was not the dream of a Europe-wide, democratic polity, but, above all, their desire to be safe and secure.

Throughout the post-war years, the narrative of European integration almost always focused on the quest for political, social, and economic security. With violent demonstrations in the streets of Athens, Madrid, and Rome, it is not hard to understand why some people may once again choose to give priority to their security, particularly their economic security.

Europe’s technocrats worked in the service of security ahead of the EU’s enlargement in 2004 to the former communist states of Central Europe. The EU’s bureaucracy played a key part in helping those countries to navigate the complex transition from socialist autocracy to capitalist democracy. At the time, few people acknowledged this, because Eurocrats rarely make headlines. But their success in applying technical standards to countries seeking EU membership earned them huge legitimacy.

The unwritten rule in Europe seems to be that, the more depoliticized the process, the more legitimacy technocrats can earn. Conversely, whenever politics gets in the way of a decision, bureaucrats lose credibility.

One objection to delegating political authority to technocrats is that such appointments amount to a humiliating constraint on sovereignty. In normal times, that is unacceptable to most citizens. But in times of crisis, the voice of the neutral technocrat gains greater legitimacy.

Monti, for example, was among the first to sound the alarm about Italy’s dire finances. But, attesting to the technocrat’s neutrality, back in August he also warned about the implications of demands by non-elected international institutions (in this case, the European Central Bank) for particular policies in exchange for support of Italian bonds in international markets. Monti called this podestà forestiero, something of a foreign overlordship based in Brussels, Washington, and Frankfurt, as well as Berlin and Paris.

The EU is a voluntary pooling of national sovereignty, but the demands now being made of Italy (and Greece) are the diktat of other sovereign nations. A national-unity government run by a technocrat in place of an administration run by elected politicians does not qualitatively change the fact that outsiders are demanding reforms. But voters in a time of crisis may be wiser than most politicians: for the past two decades, Italy’s most popular statesman has consistently been Carlo Azeglio Ciampi, a former central banker called in to run an emergency interim government in the mid-1990’s.

Of course, a technocratic government is an anomaly to the extent that it constitutes a damning verdict on the performance of a country’s entire political class. But voters in the battered lands of the eurozone seem to have reached their own damning conclusions about their elected leaders months ago.

Lao Tzu, the founder of Taoism, wrote that “a leader is best when people barely know he exists.” With Europe’s crisis-stricken governments increasingly turning to unelected technocrats, one can almost see citizens nodding in agreement.

Tunisia's Evolutionary Revolution

This article, co-written with Rasmus Boserup, appeared on CNN.com

Ten months after the collapse of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali’s authoritarian regime, Tunisia has produced a remarkable balancing act between the revolutionary urge for change and a pragmatic need for continuity. With elections for a constitutional assembly due to take place on October 23, the country that ignited the “Arab Awakening” is emerging as a regional paradigm for a stable democratic transition.

A number of preconditions have smoothed Tunisia’s path. Whereas Egypt struggles with the need to assert civilian control over the military, the Tunisian army has stayed out of politics. And, in contrast to Libya, the Tunisian population never took up arms during the protests. The economy does not run on hydrocarbons. And, notwithstanding serious inequalities between Tunisia’s littoral and inland areas, this small country of 10 million people is, according to the World Bank, an upper-middle-income economy.

Above all, civil institutions have proven to be resilient. A “Higher Council,” made up of notables of different backgrounds and political orientations, has been established to steer the transition. For all of the previous regime’s misdeeds, Tunisians are proud of their country’s liberal institutions, such as women’s rights and a progressive family code, adopted in 1956. Betraying some nostalgia, senior members of the administration speak privately of a “remarkable continuity” in the Tunisian transition.

But overall stability has not prevented cracks from emerging in more contentious areas. The security sector remains largely unreformed. The rough, transitional justice that often follows a change of regime has not taken place, at least not yet. In what is arguably the most striking change since the fall of Ben Ali, Tunisia has witnessed the swift rise of an Islamist movement that was banned from the country for decades.

The ascent of Nahda (Renaissance), the leading Islamist party, is less a reflection of latent ideological support among a newly liberated people than it is a testament to the party’s remarkable ability to fill the post-revolutionary political vacuum. Since January, Nahda has opened more than 200 offices. Scores of volunteers are deployed in electoral campaigning at a grassroots, door-to-door level. The party’s imposing headquarters in the suburbs of Tunis symbolize its position as the most effective political operation in the country by far.

While opponents ominously recall the involvement of party cadres in the deadly bombings of tourist targets in 1991, Nahda has gone to some lengths to appease its critics. Its electoral program calls for constitutionalism, separation of powers, citizenship-based rights, and the protection of women’s rights. Adherence to such tenets would place Nahda in the same league of moderate Islamist parties as the Turkey’s Justice and Development Party and its Moroccan counterpart.

Much like the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, Nahda will have to marginalize the more militant fringes of Islamist politics, such as the salafis – and is likely to lose some of its supporters in the process. But Nahda’s ambition to win over – and, ultimately, stably occupy – the mainstream of Tunisia’s democratic politics requires nothing less.

There is no silver bullet to democratization. In Algeria in 1991, it was civil-society activists who called for a military intervention against the Islamists; in Tunisia in 2011, all political actors seem to accept that the Islamists’ democratic credentials must be tested through elections, and that the outcome must be respected. If Islamists are to be brought into the democratic fold and encouraged to move towards the political mainstream by getting their hands dirty in the give-and-take of day-to-day politics, then Tunisia may be the right place to try it.

Moreover, if there is such a thing as a Tunisian “model” of democratic revolution, its distinctiveness consists in its evolutionary character: the state administration has continued to function, and a cross-party consensus has emerged around basic social and economic policies. The middle class has taken charge, while a long-repressed Islamist contender has entered the fray of electoral politics.

Once a corrupt regime is removed, the road ahead often proves bumpy, as has been true in all of the countries affected by the Arab Awakening. But in Tunisia, what has also emerged is a lively nascent democracy that deserves the West’s support.

Tunisia: wasn't this what we were hoping for?

This article, co-written with Rasmus Boserup, appeared on openDemocracy

John Maynard Keynes once wrote that: “It is not sufficient that the state of affairs which we seek to promote should be better than the state of affairs which preceded it; it must be sufficiently better to make up for the evils of the transition”. The people of Tunisia have been doggedly focused on their quest for a better 'state of affairs' since January, when they ousted the regime of president Zine El Abidine Ben Ali. As elections for a constitutional assembly take place on 23 October, Tunisia’s institutions, parties and society have proven keenly aware of the 'evils of transition'. The result is a remarkable balancing act between the revolutionary urge for change and a pragmatic need for continuity.

The nation that ushered in this year’s 'Arab Spring' has experienced a process that distinguishes itself markedly from its Egyptian and Libyan neighbours. Whereas Egypt struggles with finding an adequate role for the military, the Tunisian army has kept out of politics. In contrast to Libya, the Tunisian population never took up arms during the protests. While facing a number of serious challenges, including how to include the country’s re-emerging Islamist contenders, westerners can be forgiven for hoping that Tunisia will represent a much longed-for role model of a stable and peaceful transition.

Remarkable continuity
Is there a silver bullet to democratization? The experience of this corner on the northern tip of Africa is that a smooth transition process requires a number of preconditions. Unusual for the regional context, Tunisia does not run on hydrocarbons. Notwithstanding serious inequalities between the littoral areas and the inland, this country of 10 million inhabitants is relatively wealthy and qualifies, according to the World Bank, as an upper-middle-income economy.

Above all, civil institutions have proven to be resilient: The Higher Council for the Achievements of the Goals of the Revolution, a transitional representative body made up of notables of different backgrounds and political orientation, has steered the transitional process. One of the Council’s key achievements is arguably the compromise on Tunisia’s constitutional system, which will shift from presidential to prime ministerial in order to limit concentration of power in the executive branch. Betraying nostalgia for Tunisia’s regime of Habib Bourguiba (1956-1987), senior members of the administration speak openly of “remarkable continuity” in the Tunisian transition.

Behind this resilience of the state is a culture of moderation and pragmatism that is frequently presented as a uniquely Tunisian quality. Even for those social and political forces calling for a radical break with the past, 'change' often amounts to wiping out the corruption that was endemic amongst the high echelons of Ben Ali’s clan. Other than that, there is a broad consensus on the economic and social challenges facing the nation. Unemployment and disparities among the country’s different regions require a degree of redistribution. Yet, as a small and resource-poor country, Tunisia has thrived on trade and openness, which does not require the visible, intrusive hand of the state. In an echo of continental Europe’s welfare model, political operators, including those of an Islamist persuasion, speak of Tunisia as a 'social market economy'.

Dignity and disruption
For all the flowers sold as souvenirs on Avenue Bourguiba, Tunis’ central thoroughfare, nobody in Tunisia speaks of a Jasmine Revolution, as the western press have dubbed it. Tunisians rather savour the reach and depth of social mobilization around the fundamental quest for social justice. The first real indignados of 2011 were not those who hit the streets of Madrid and Athens, but those who ousted Ben Ali’s calcified autocracy. Its political forces have maintained a remarkably united front. Tunisia’s was above all a 'revolution of dignity'.

This consensus, however, has not prevented cracks from emerging in other, more contentious areas of governance. The transition surrounding security and justice is a case in point. While the army has played no role in the transition (itself another unusual feature of the Tunisian revolution) the security sector remains largely unreformed. Transitional justice that follows a regime change, of the kind experienced in Central Europe or South Africa, has simply not taken place in Tunisia. Another issue that caused disruption, and eventually a deadlock in the transitional Higher Council, was the proposal to regulate party financing, with leading parties refusing to disclose their resources.

For all the misdeeds of the previous regimes, Tunisians are proud of their liberal institutions: freedom of women and a progressive family code, adopted in 1956. Yet, in the run-up to the elections, the debate concerning morals has become particularly heated. Senior members of Nahda, the leading Islamist party, are accused of being ambiguous on the matter of polygamy. Some secular politicians are being singled out for their alleged consumption of alcohol. The growing attrition around the discourse on values underscores what is arguably the most complex challenge facing the fledgling Tunisian democracy.

Islamist renaissance
The most obvious disruptive element in the Tunisian transition concerns the role played by the quickly expanding, but young and unknown, Islamist movement. Weakened by decades of intense state repression orchestrated by Ben Ali’s notorious Ministry of Interior, Tunisia’s Islamists were largely spectators at the toppling of the president. Much has changed since then: after the return of Rachid Ghannouchi, the historic leader of Hizb al-Nahda (or 'Renaissance Party'), after twenty years in exile, the Islamists have displayed a remarkable ability to rebuild their organization and affirm their presence in Tunisia’s political and social realm. Different independent polls point to an electoral outcome in October in which Ghannouchi’s party will dominate parliament with up to 25% of the votes cast, almost twice as many as its nearest contenders from the secular-leaning liberal and socialist parties.

The swift rise of Nahda is less the story of default ideological support by a newly liberated electorate, than it is one of remarkable ability to fill the post-revolutionary political vacuum. Since the fall of Ben Ali’s regime, Nahda has opened more than 200 offices in Tunisia. Scores of volunteers are deployed in electoral campaigning at a grassroots, door-to-door level. The party’s imposing headquarters in the suburbs of Tunis symbolises its position as the most effective political operation in the country.

Nahda has gone to some lengths to appease its critics. Opponents recall Ghannouchi’s celebratory speeches about the Iranian revolution in 1979 (from which he later distanced himself) and the involvement of some party cadres in the deadly bombings of tourist targets in 1991. But today Nahda’s electoral program spells constitutionalism, separation of powers, citizenship-based rights and the preservation of women’s rights. Such tenets arguably place Nahda in the same league as moderate Islamist counterparts such as the Moroccan Justice and Development Party and Turkey’s AK Party.

Will it last?
There is more to Nahda’s success than sheer organizational capacity and political wits. In the light of its uncompromising opposition to Ben Ali, for large segments of the Tunisian electorate the party also embodies the clearest and cleanest alternative to the survivors of the old regime. But what might be perceived as a strong advantage in the short run, could potentially turn into a serious challenge to the party’s long-term cohesion.

At present there seems to exist at least three sociological groups inside the Nahda. There are the political activists who, like Ghannouchi, fled the repression in the late 1980s and have just returned from exile. Then there are the tens of thousands of political prisoners who spent much of the past two decades in detention. Finally, there is a less homogeneous '1980s generation' whose members stayed silent in Tunisia during Ben Ali’s regime. It remains to be seen whether Nahda will be able to reconcile these different experiences and networks, or whether the party will split into several competing parties as has recently happened with the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. The recent ousting from Nahda of the respected Islamic thinker and co-founder of the party, Abdelfattah Mourou, underscored the relevance of such speculation.

Not unrelated is Nahda’s relation with the more radical and conservative elements of the Islamist movement. Much like the Muslim Brothers in Egypt, the party is under pressure from a small increasingly active Salafi movement, whose rise is generally attributed to the influence of Saudi Arabia’s satellite TV-preachers and labour migration. While lack of interest in electoral participation makes its political appeal limited for now, the Salafi tendency has been known to exist in Tunisia for a while, and its presence is being increasingly felt in public life. Locals recall gloomily an episode from July this year, when salafi activists physically prevented a cinema in central Tunis from screening “Neither Allah, Nor Master”, a documentary film that they had deemed 'immoral'.

Much like the Muslim Brothers in Egypt, Nahda will have to distance itself from the more radical fringes such as the salafis. In doing so, the party is likely to lose some of its supporters. But Nahda’s ambition to win over, and ultimately stably occupy the mainstream of Tunisia’s democratic politics, requires nothing less.

A great Tunisian evolution
Before this year’s Arab awakening, Islamists offering a strategic and ideological counterweight to secular autocracies proved to be a recipe for ruthless repression. Today, the tables have turned and it is rather Islamists who respond and reject the liberal-secular dogma. Ominously, a controversy over whether the full-faced veil can be worn in Tunisian universities led last weekend to violent clashes between salafis and the police.
But the fact that Nahda promptly condemned these and other recent protests sustains a broader point: if Islamist movements are to be brought into the democratic fold, encouraged to move towards the centre of the political spectrum, and get their hands dirty in the endless bargaining that is day-to-day politics, then Tunisia may be the right place to try it. In Algeria in 1991, several civil society activists called for a military intervention against the Islamists; in 2011 Tunisia, the political forces seem to accept that the Islamists’ democratic credentials must be tested through elections.

With a somewhat more daring leap of faith, the pragmatism characterizing the Tunisian transition can be taken a step further. Tunisians are surprisingly indulgent about the realpolitk behind the decades-long engagement of European governments with corrupted autocracies in the region; “we blame them,” a top operator told us, “but we understand them.” On the other hand, the transition so far is remarkably aligned with the objectives of longer-term, and lower-profile, policies that institutions such as the European Union have been carrying out for the past twenty years. In this sense, if there is such a thing as a Tunisian 'model', it lies in its evolutionary as much as its revolutionary character: the state administration has continued to run, the middle class has taken charge, and a cross-party consensus has emerged around basic social and economic policies - at the same time as a long repressed Islamist contender has entered the fray of democratic politics.

As for the other countries involved in the Arab awakening, once the top layers of a corrupt regime have been removed, the road ahead is nevertheless destined to be bumpy and uphill for some time to come. But in Tunisia, what has emerged is also a body politic that deserves the west’s unreserved support.

The Arab Summer and Europe's Umpteenth Hour

This article, co-written with Pawel Swieboda, appeared on E!Sharp

As the Arab spring turns into a politically hot, Indian summer of transition, Europeans interrogate themselves on what kind of support they will be able to provide. For better or for worse, territorial vicinity and a long history of relations have already marked the response to these multiple crises in a uniquely European way. The EU has much to offer to the brave peoples that toppled corrupt regimes or are pushing them to reform all across the region: from institution building to civil society support and everything in between. Yet, the uprisings have exposed severe constraints on the vision of a genuine European foreign policy.

The upheaval took place over one year after the entry into force of the Lisbon Treaty reforming the EU, whose principal innovation was indeed the creation of an EU foreign minister in everything but name, in the person of Catherine Ashton, and of a putative diplomatic corps. Yet, leadership on Libya has come from two national capitals, London and Paris, while the Brussels establishment was often prominently absent from the decision-making process. European governments were united in not seeing a role for the EU’s fledgling defense policy. In the cases of the Egyptian and Syrian uprisings, France, Britain and Germany have displayed more convergent responses; yet, their joint statements calling for transition barely made a reference to their common EU allegiance.

To be fair, some of the growing criticisms of Europe’s foreign policy ineffectiveness lack perspective. It is not plausible that a larger number of bureaucrats fielded on the ground will fundamentally alter Europe’s position in any reshaping of the world order. Her generous shuttle diplomacy notwithstanding, it is not realistic to expect that the number of miles covered by Lady Ashton will arrest Europe’s relative decline.

Even so, the reasons why Europe has so far punched below its weight are real and profound. As a consensus-based organization, the EU is typically slow in reacting to crises. Moreover, while Brussels may have earned some legitimacy on the basis of the policies that it implements, its largely technocratic apparatus lacks the kind of ‘input legitimacy’ that a democratic selection of political representatives can provide. The disconnect between a slow-moving bureaucracy and the higher profile role of key governments is mutually detrimental and hinders the great many things that the EU already does on the ground. The deepening crisis of the Euro and much-feared waves of migrants further exacerbate European introspection.

The Arab spring may yet turn into another “hour of Europe”, where, as in the Balkans in the 1990s, the EU fails to grasp challenges occurring in its backyard. It can equally well turn into a formative experience pushing the EU to display a greater sense of responsibility for its immediate neighbourhood. The EU’s foreign policy will remain the lowest common denominator of what European governments already agree upon—or let the EU do. But Europe’s collective responses must be viewed as a kind of variable geometry, with some things done by Brussels, others done by groupings of selected European countries, some issues best being tackled multilaterally, and others being left to bilateral negotiation.

The EU orthodoxy tends to see such trends as a sign of fragmentation, but there is nothing wrong in delegating decision-making to the actors and mechanisms that are best suited to address individual issues, as long as someone in Europe actually does take charge.
A case in point is offered by Poland. As the largest of the new member states that entered the EU in 2004, Warsaw is the current holder of the rotating EU presidency and an increasingly influential player. Also, it is the only European country to have escaped the recession since 2008. Holding the rotating presidency, it must now invest more in teamwork rather than its individual clout in the field of foreign policy.

Yet, Poland has made a point in using its first-ever presidency to provide leadership in the EU’s external affairs. As the Foreign Minister Radoslaw Sikorski put it, he is acting as a ‘loyal deputy’ to Lady Ashton, a phrase that it would be hard to imagine coming from the lips of any of his counterparts from larger European countries.

More than that, Poland is using its own recent history, untainted by colonial ties and characterised by a successful transition to democracy, to present the European case in North Africa and the Middle East. Senior Solidarnosc personalities, including former President Lech Wałęsa, headed Polish government delegations in Tunis and Cairo. Sikorski was the first Western minister to visit Benghazi. In cooperation with Al-Jazeera, Warsaw has in store a programme to recount the Polish experience of democratisation. It is too early to tell whether this approach will bear fruit. At the same time, by being bold about what Europe can deliver and realistic about what it cannot, the Polish experience may point the way towards the kind of enlightened self-interest which Europe sorely needs.

La strage che infrange l’utopia scandinava

Questo articolo è apparso su AffariInternazionali

“Non credere di essere più speciale degli altri o che tu sia migliore di noi”. In Scandinavia, diverse versioni di questo principio sono comunemente note come “la legge di Jante”: un modello di condotta sociale secondo il quale successi e conquiste sociali sono raggiungibili solo dalla collettività e qualsiasi individualismo è visto con sospetto. La “legge” è qualcosa di cui gli scandinavi vanno particolarmente fieri, ma non fornisce alcuna spiegazione agli attacchi terroristici in Norvegia, che venerdì scorso sono costati la vita ad oltre 70 persone. Allo stesso tempo, offre il quadro di riferimento di un cambiamento piuttosto radicale in corso in questi paesi. Così come sarebbe profondamente fuorviante stabilire una causalità diretta fra gli orrendi crimini di Oslo e il tono del dibattito pubblico, è altrettanto difficile ignorare l'aumento dell’intolleranza sociale e politica nell’Europa settentrionale.

Apertura e coraggio
Originariamente, Jante si riferisce alla storia di una cittadina creata nel 1933 dalla penna del romanziere danese-norvegese Aksel Sandemose. In quel paese immaginario furono codificate, in vena satirica, le regole ispirate all’onestà, al contegno e all’uguaglianza che definiscono la vita civile della Scandinavia moderna. Nei decenni successivi, la regione si è distinta per l’applicazione di queste regole, se non nella lettera quantomeno nello spirito: uno stato sociale efficiente e generoso che si è posto come obiettivo la riduzione delle diseguaglianze economiche, una statura internazionale imperniata sulla neutralità e il pacifismo.

Dopo il crollo del muro di Berlino, invece di rimanere appollaiati in cima all’Europa in splendido isolamento, gli scandinavi si sono lanciati a capofitto nella globalizzazione. Hanno aperto le loro economie e il mercato del lavoro, hanno prodotto innovazione e creato alcuni dei marchi più popolari dell’ultimo ventennio - dall’Ikea alla Nokia. Senza mai perdere di vista la sostenibilità del modello di sviluppo e il mondo che verrà lasciato alle prossime generazioni. E, soprattutto, senza mai perdere d’occhio quella combinazione di modestia ed efficienza che ha continuato a costituire la stella polare del successo nordico. La maggioranza silenziosa dei danesi, norvegesi, svedesi e finlandesi non ammetterà mai di essere “più speciale” o “migliore” degli altri, anche se da fuori sembrerebbe un’osservazione perfettamente giustificabile. Ma anche grazie a quest’atteggiamento, i paesi scandinavi sono riusciti a trasformarsi e a prosperare.

Multiculturalismo e integrazione
Negli ultimi anni, questa preziosa eredità è andata pericolosamente erodendosi. I segnali sono molteplici: molti istituti di credito hanno alimentato bolle speculative o si sono esposti ad operazioni finanziare azzardate, in modo non dissimile ad alcuni dei paesi più colpiti dalla crisi. L’individualismo, non poco influenzato da format televisivi identici al resto dell’Europa, è andato gradualmente crescendo. Ma soprattutto, come altrove in Europa occidentale, queste società etnicamente omogenee incontrano difficoltà ad accettare un multiculturalismo disordinato e spesso fuori controllo.

Da questo punto di vista, la peculiarità di paesi come Danimarca, Norvegia e Finlandia sta forse nel modo in cui i partiti della destra populista riescono a condizionare il dibattito politico. Programmi elettorali che promettono ripristino di frontiere e sovranità nazionale hanno fruttato in anni recenti risultati non inferiori al 15% (e quasi un quarto dell’elettorato in Norvegia). I governi vengono poi incalzati al punto di dover accettare alcune delle richieste più estreme della destra.

La recente esperienza in Danimarca è illuminante al riguardo. Il Partito popolare danese, formazione di destra che ha assicurato sostegno esterno al governo liberal-conservatore per oltre un decennio, ha ottenuto due mesi fa la reintroduzione delle dogane alle frontiere per contrastare il crimine transfrontaliero. A nulla sono serviti studi indipendenti che evidenziano la scarsa incidenza del ripristino delle dogane sulla lotta alla criminalità. Men che meno sono state ascoltate le veementi proteste europee, e tedesche in particolare, sulla possibile infrazione danese del trattato di Schengen. Il governo aveva bisogno di voti per approvare la riforma delle pensioni, ed ha ceduto alla destra populista sulle frontiere senza batter ciglio.

Risveglio amaro
Gestire i flussi migratori o superare la congiuntura economica sono sfide che tutto l’Occidente deve affrontare. E si potrà obiettare che, in entrambi i casi, i paesi scandinavi abbiano mostrato eccessi che devono essere in qualche modo riequilibrati. Riequilibrare, però, significa per questa regione anche e soprattutto preservare istituzioni che hanno servito egregiamente i cittadini, costituendo un modello per tanti altri paesi. L’ironia amara di retorica e prassi della destra populista è che la soluzione alla crisi deve ricercarsi in strategie spesso opposte a quelle che hanno funzionato finora: bisogna difendersi, chiudersi, proteggersi, anche a costo di essere meno tolleranti. È improprio e semplicistico definire la strage di Oslo come il sintomo di un male più profondo ed oscuro. Ma è un segnale forte e positivo il fatto che, dal giorno della tragedia, la maggioranza silenziosa degli scandinavi non discuta d’altro.

The Unraveling of Europe's Peace

This article first appeared on Project Syndicate

The European Commission recently unveiled long-awaited measures to bring neighboring countries in the Mediterranean and the former Soviet Union closer to Europe. On the same day, another department of the same Commission presented proposals aimed at curbing visa-waiver programs for some non-European nationals. Few missed the irony of formulating two plans that pointed in opposite directions.

Attracting neighbors has long been a noble aspiration – and something of a European specialty. The European Union’s embrace of post-communist republics in Central Europe represented a most powerful symbol of the reach of Western liberal democracy.

In today’s neighborhood, where EU expansion is not in the cards, Europe hopes to shore up its presence by opening its huge internal market and increasing assistance. Crucially, the Commission’s recent proposals include the creation of “mobility partnerships” with Tunisia, Morocco, and Egypt, aimed at facilitating travel for local students and businesspeople.
By contrast, the proposed restrictions on the visa-waiver program include “safeguard clauses” that would temporarily suspend access to Europe’s Schengen area, most likely for those from Balkan countries. This is controversial enough: the decision is motivated by a large influx of asylum-seekers, often offering frivolous reasons, originating from Serbia. But visa liberalization has been the main concrete signal of Europe’s goodwill towards this neglected backyard, which dreams of joining the EU. Whatever this plan’s impact in practice, the political message is clear: when in doubt, Europe is better off sealing its borders.

The same Janus-faced approach is evident in Europe’s response to the Arab Spring. After a lukewarm reaction to the uprisings, Europe was eager to show its support for democratic movements in the region. At the same time, with boatloads of migrants arriving from Tunisia, some rather drastic measures have been adopted. A recent dispute between Italy (the main port of arrival) and France (the principal final destination) ended with the French reintroducing border controls.

In an unrelated move, Denmark did the same, ostensibly to prevent cross-border crime. To its credit, the European Commission also issued strong calls to member states for better legislation and practices concerning migration. But there is a clear correlation between unrest at the EU’s doorstep and Europe’s irresistible instinct to keep trouble at arm’s length.

For once, the rot is not in Brussels, but rather in a growing number of European capitals. The case of Italy is instructive: “human tsunami” is the unfortunate phrase used by senior policymakers to warn against the possible flood of migrants. But, almost six months into the North African upheavals, the number of arrivals on the southern island of Lampedusa has reached roughly 30,000. By comparison, Sweden, with one-sixth the population of Italy, accepted the same number of asylum-seekers in 2009. Italian officials privately confirm that the current figures are not unmanageable.

The problem for Italian officials, as for the other governments concerned by the recent migration flows, is the pressure of right-wing populist parties, which no longer need to be on the defensive. The case for openness, inclusion, and diversity in European societies has become much harder to make. Not coincidentally, mainstream leaders, from German Chancellor Angela Merkel to British Prime Minister David Cameron, have caught up with the current mood by deeming European multiculturalism a failure.

This turn of events comes at a price. The genius of modern Europe has consisted in linking long-term stability to the pursuit of ever-deeper economic and political integration. For the past half-century, this has represented Europe’s revolutionary recipe for peace, and has served as something of a microcosm of globalization. The ever-freer and faster flow of capital, labor, goods, and ideas found in the EU a model and a forerunner. Free movement of people within Europe constitutes this visionary project’s most tangible feat.

One unintended effect of the Arab revolutions is that the link between security and integration that forms Europe’s foundation is decoupling. The advantages of pooling sovereignty and resources ring increasingly hollow to ordinary Europeans. Governments find it more politically rewarding to pursue security by erecting administrative or physical barriers.

As election campaigns beckon in some of the countries that are now debating immigration controls, this trend is unlikely to be reversed any time soon. But Europeans should make no mistake about the consequences. Opposing Europe now means not only standing up to an unelected behemoth in Brussels, as Euro-skeptics would have it. Nor is it merely about questioning the sources of Europe’s influence in a fast-changing world. Unraveling the nexus between security and integration means nothing less than rejecting the formula of Europe’s peace.

Taming Libya's Mad Dog

This article co-written with Daniel Korski, appeared on the website of the European Council on Foreign Relations

Each new protest in the Middle East has confronted the West with a different kind of challenge. Tunisia was primarily a test for the former colonial power, France, which had cosied up to Ben Ali's regime, in part to avoid sea-borne migration. Egypt, meanwhile, challenged the United States and its fifty year-old policy of backing the region's strongmen in exchange for policy agreements - for example on Israel and Iran. The protests in Yemen, Al Qaeda’s ancestral home, threw up problems for Britain in its fight against Islamist terrorism.

Now, protests and an unusually violent crackdown in Libya has presented an altogether new test for the West. In some ways it is easier, in some ways harder. Ever since he gave up Libya's WMD program in 2003 and claimed to end support for terrorism, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi has played the West largely by his own rules. Sitting on vast reserves of untapped oil has enabled him to cultivate ever closer relations with Western powers.

Newly-declassified documents show that British officials advised the previous government that they should "work actively but discreetly" for Lockerbie bomber Abdelbaset al Megrahi's release in a deal thought to have included commercial motivations. Libya is the 11th largest exporter of goods into the EU, a higher place than Canada and Taiwan. Its most notable exports are of petroleum and petroleum products - Libya accounts for 6.9% of EU energy imports, just behind Norway and Russia on the list. No doubt with these figures in mind, Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi of Italy, Libya's former colonial power, said of the ongoing repression that he did not wish to "disturb" Gaddafi.

The close European-Libyan cooperation has not, however, prevented the Tripoli regime from making mischievous threats to Europe, most recently that of flooding the continent with sub-saharan migrants. If the regime does not cooperate in stopping illegal migrants from crossing the Mediterranean Sea and reaching Europe, the numbers could surge to some 40,000 would-be migrants a year from a current annual rate of 7,300.

This goes to show that unlike the United States, geography represents a defining factor of the European reaction to this crisis. Only last week, Italian Foreign Minister Franco Frattini wrote in the Financial Times that 'this "arc of crisis" will lead to more illegal immigration, terrorism and Islamic radicalism.' A failed state in the horn of Africa looks less threatening than one the opposite shore of the Mediterranean. Especially one with lengthy historical links to Europe.
The economic and political embrace of Libya has made it considerably more difficult for some European leaders to extricate themselves from Gaddafi's script while his "mad dog" reputation allowed them to shrug their shoulders over his cartoonish antics. But the recent events mean European leaders can no longer look the other way. In trying to re-establish control, the Gaddafi regime have plunged to depths not seen elsewhere in the region.

Security forces have fired on protesters with high-velocity sniper rifles, machine guns and even anti-aircraft artillery. Rumours swirl that mercenaries have been recruited. Women and children were seen jumping off the Giuliana Bridge in Benghazi to get away. Many of them were killed by the impact of hitting the water, while others were drowned. Human Rights Watch reports numbers of deaths in the hundreds, since the unrest began spreading from the eastern provinces.

Yet, the fact that few conditions were attached to the post-2003 rapprochement gives the West more room for manoeuvring. In the case of Libya, which does not have a treaty with the EU, this should include the prospect of new sanctions. Inevitably, any talk of penalties will be associated with the complex historical legacies of European oppression and colonisation. But should it come to that, sanctions would not equal isolation. It was a combination of sanctions and intense dialogue with the regime that led Gaddafi's to renounce the WMD programme.

Moreover, the EU has demonstrated the ability to move rapidly into a tougher mode than a month ago in the case of Belarus. Two years of engagement with Belarus, which included substantial European investments, did not prevent EU leaders from re-imposing a visa ban on Lukashenko's regime in response to a crackdown on the opposition. As repression begins to look like carnage, the Libyan case should be treated no differently.

As a first step, the EU should impose an immediate travel ban on all key Libyan officials. At the same time, preparations should be put in place for a freeze of Libyan assets held in Europe. European governments should put forward a resolution at the UN Human Rights Council condemning Libya’s actions. To ensure that Europe’s southern flank is able to deal with a wave of migrants unleashed by a scornful regime, planning should commence for FRONTEX, the EU’s border agency, to help the states most likely to receive the flow of migrants.

If there ever was a need and an opportunity for Europe to show its muscles, Colonel Gaddafi is providing one.

Calling Europe's Bluff in North Africa

This article first appeared in openDemocracy

An old Moroccan legend has it that the people of Andalusia, in Southern Spain, once complained to king Alexander of Macedonia about the continuing pillaging at the hands of the north African Berbers. The king ordered his best engineers to dig a huge channel between Spain and Africa. The Strait of Gibraltar thus came to be and the Andalusians lived in security happily ever after.

In the face of the momentous popular upheaval shaking north Africa, Europe is still living the fairy tale. At a meeting on 31 January, EU foreign ministers reached out to the new authorities in post-Ben Ali Tunisia and expressed their support for an "orderly transition" in Egypt. But the message during recent years has been something strikingly different: Europe has neither encouraged democratic transformation nor prioritised reforms in the region. Much like the Andalusians, the paramount objective has been to keep north Africa at arm's length from Europe.

Two sets of reasons - one socio-economic, the other socio-political - have underpinned such an attitude. The socio-economic pressures include unemployment, which stands at double-digit rates in most countries in north Africa. Moreover, the demographic time-bomb has not been defused: the population of north Africa and the middle east is expected to grow from the present 280 million to nearly equal that of Europe with some 400-450 million inhabitants by 2020.

This latter figure forms the background to the socio-political challenge. The primary concern here is Europe's angst about immigration. The dehydrated boat people stranded on the beaches of southern Europe account for a minimal fraction of the migrants entering the EU every year. Yet, the Mediterranean has become the main testing ground for Europe's stance on immigration, because scenes there strike at the feeling of discord within multicultural Europe. Then there is that which the oft-quoted Arab Human Development Report has called the "freedom deficit" of the region - corrupt regimes coupled with severe restrictions of political rights and civil liberties - which is now challenged by events from Cairo to Sanaa in Yemen.

Faced with these challenges, Brussels has ended up accepting the standard alibi made by Arab autocrats, whereby opening the political system would pave the way for takeovers by Islamic extremists. The EU has thus favoured economic cooperation in the hope that more widespread prosperity would eventually spill over to political reforms. To be fair, Europe is not the only culprit here. EU countries are north Africa's largest trading partner, so economic cooperation makes good sense. Financial assistance and macro-economic programs in the Mediterranean have been co-financed by the International Monetary Fund and follow standards set by the World Bank. Still, the charge that economic support should accompany-and not precede-political reforms on the receiving end pertains to the EU, no less than to international financial institutions.

The main trouble with the EU has been in the gap between political rhetoric and operational reality. For all the European declarations, north Africa observers never had many illusions about the prospect of trade liberalization with the EU. Far more concrete has been European protectionism on, most notably, agricultural products and textiles. Add to that the bilateral oil and gas deals that continue to flow between some European countries and the likes of Libya or Algeria, and Europe's arbitrariness towards the region becomes dramatically apparent.

With events still unfolding on the Arab street, what should Europe do now? As we have argued in a recent policy brief, the EU's policy toolbox is comprehensive and detailed enough to ensure strong support for the reform process. While a more effective EU policy is deeply desirable, the guiding principles of governance reform are all enshrined in the existing policy framework and contain the right incentive structure. These standards are applicable to any new reform-minded government sitting in Tunis or Cairo.

At the same time, the EU will have to be smarter and stricter in how its policy instruments are implemented. Any talk of penalties or sanctions is associated with the complex historical legacies of European oppression and colonisation. However, these punitive conditions are crucial to send a signal to governments moving away from their commitments.

Above all, the dramatic events in north Africa should elicit a profound reflection inside Europe about how the EU portrays itself on the world stage, and how it is perceived by its counterparts. This is not about repeating the inward-looking exercise that characterised the EU institutional debate of the past half-decade. The reflection should be primarily about the priorities and values that the EU aims to promote, and about how these should be promoted. The ongoing review process of the EU's ailing Neighbourhood Policy is the best place to start.

At the height of America's occupation of Iraq, European diplomats were quite keen to privately remark that their more modest framework was still wiser than "regime change." It has introduced a regional praxis of dialogue and consultation where previously there was none. The north African states have not followed Iran on a theocratic path. All this is true, except that the original plan was not damage-limitation. Europe aimed at inspiring comprehensive political and economic reforms; its stated ambition was region-building, widespread stability and prosperity.
None of this has happened and the revolutions in north Africa have called Europe's bluff.

Berlusconi's Private Diplomacy

This article, co-written with Arnold Cassola, first appeared on Project Syndicate



ROME – On the Web site of the Italian Foreign Ministry, Tunisia is praised for its “ideal features” and “political and social stability.” After the popular upheaval that ousted President Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali from power, the peril of supporting Arab autocrats in exchange for flimsy stability should have once again become apparent to Western powers. In Italy, however, the Tunisian uprising is also a painful reminder of Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s tangle of conflicting private and public interests.


Many Italians remember that Ben Ali – whose rise to the presidency was directly supported by Italy – provided refuge to Bettino Craxi, the former Italian prime minister (and Berlusconi’s political mentor), who fled the country in 1994 to avoid conviction on corruption charges. Craxi died and is buried in the Tunisian holiday resort of Hammamet.


More recently, the Tunisian connection has come up in relation to one of the murkiest dossiers associated with Berlusconi’s foreign policy: Libya. In September 2009, The Guardian published an article about a company, Quinta Communications SA, owned by a Tunisian-born entrepreneur and long-time business associate of Berlusconi, Tarak Ben Ammar. The article alleged that Quinta is partly controlled by a company owned by the Berlusconi family’s investment vehicle and partly by a holding company controlled by the Gaddafi family’s investment arm. The implication that Berlusconi and Gaddafi indirectly co-own Quinta has not been refuted.


Were Berlusconi only a tycoon, such reports would not raise many eyebrows. After all, Libyan financial institutions have been investing in Italy for decades. Were Berlusconi only a statesman, one could argue that realpolitik is a justifiable prerogative of a sovereign state: strategic considerations often trump the pursuit of more noble goals, such as promotion of human rights. As Berlusconi bluntly put it, closer relations with Libya are about “fewer illegal immigrants and more oil.”


The trouble with Berlusconi is that the corporate empire that he owns, which ranges from media and publishing to insurance and advertising, can conceivably affect key foreign-policy issues. And when sensitive questions like immigration and energy security are in play, his government’s foreign policy can have an impact on other countries’ citizens, too.


Indeed, a rather straightforward pattern emerges from the American diplomatic cables released by WikiLeaks so far. American diplomats, it turns out, also have reservations about Berlusconi’s relations with Russia. They express concern at the “frequently non-transparent” business dealings between the two countries, and allege that many of Berlusconi’s “business cronies” are deeply involved in Russia’s energy strategy. The United States Ambassador at the time is repeatedly quoted as suggesting that Berlusconi has a “financially enriching relationship” with the Kremlin.


Such allegations can of course be disputed, and Berlusconi was quick to laugh them off. But the underlying question, whether Italy is trustworthy or not, cannot be dismissed so easily.
Just as US diplomats have done, the rest of the international community has a right to speculate about the Berlusconi family business’s international priorities; about whether these priorities are influencing Italy's foreign policy; and about how Berlusconi can show that they are not. Berlusconi’s undisputed survival skills, and the acrobatics of his personal life, have relegated the outside world from the attention of most Italians. But rarely has a Western country’s foreign policy been so exposed to its prime minister’s private interests.


Italy’s conflict of interest could damage more than the trust of its allies. It could undermine the credibility of Europe’s stated emphasis on the promotion of the rule of law and strengthen the charge of double standards that is so often leveled against Western policies. As Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin was reported to have quipped when confronted with routine European criticism on corruption and organized crime, “Mafia is not a Russian word.”


Anyone with access to YouTube can view the 1986 footage of Berlusconi being interviewed in one of his network’s studios by veteran journalist (and later vocal opponent) Enzo Biagi. Beneath a map of Cold War Europe, the then-entrepreneur boasts about the successes of his companies. In closing the interview, he asserts that the expansion of his television channels abroad will be pivotal to the unification of Europe.


Even if this plan has not been realized, the rationale behind it should be of no little concern to Italy’s international partners.