The past week has seen two important grace periods extended.
These periods have been used in both the TCA and WA to allow the UK and EU enough time to make necessary preparations for full implementation, or that is at least the EU’s line.
The less-remarked of the two has been the granting of data adequacy to the UK’s rules for a four-year period to 28 June 2025, meaning that data can continue to move freely across the border. However, this has come with an unprecedented sunset clause and explicit powers to revoke it should the UK change those rules, which currently remain much as they were during membership.
As such, the discussion about reforming the UK’s regime might well end up bringing adequacy back to the table sooner rather than later.
The more-remarked was yesterday’s confirmation of a three-month extension to the chilled meat products exemption for Northern Ireland (UK declaration and EU response). This is problematic in different ways from data, in that the issue has been a failure by the UK to make conspicuous movement towards full implementation and the concern that this extension might be a prelude to an effort to get a semi-permanent delay to that occurring.
As a result, the EU’s comments on conditions and expectations are worth noting.
In a sense, both cases highlight the difficult road that this relationship is following. The degrading of trust during and following negotiations leads the EU to be very attentive to compliance, even as it makes efforts to avoid looking too inflexible. In that regard, the bundling of the chilled meats extension with other work on flexibility on the Protocol is as important, even if still most promissory.
For the UK, the almost permanently aggravating behaviour of the fist half of 2021 has soften a bit. The decision to ask for the chilled meat extension, rather than just announcing one, counts as a win here. Likewise, the signing of a bilateral agreement with Germany on security points to other paths for showing good faith is possible.
However, this path will be a very long one. There are clear issues with all the remaining grace periods, plus the negotiations and reviews, in the coming six months, not least the operationalising of the new format for fisheries quotas to be completed by New Year.
And that’s not even getting into the end of the application period for EU nationals to acquire Settled Status in the UK and the scope for removals.
One swallow doesn’t make a summer, as they say.
PDF: https://bit.ly/UshGraphic65
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Nordic governments frequently broadcast their ambition to do more together on the international stage.
Kristin Haugevik and Ole Jacob Sending explain why we still shouldn’t expect to see any profound increase in joint Nordic foreign policy positions and actions – and especially not when it comes to relations with greater powers.
While Nordic officials often speak warmly about more integration and greater unity, they usually prefer individualised – and differentiated – foreign policies in their relations with major powers, most notably the United States. Photo: Stephen Crowley/The New York Times/NTB
In their Vision 2030, the five Nordic states – Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Iceland – aspire to make ‘Norden’ the most integrated region in the world. The vision invokes the longstanding narrative about successful intra-Nordic collaboration, ‘the Nordic peace’ and the Nordic region as a lodestar and role model for other sub-regional groupings.
In recent years, the Nordics have also raised the bar with respect to foreign policy collaboration. ‘The Nordics are a superpower’, claimed Finland’s president in 2016, following a Nordic joint summit with US President Barack Obama. The ensuing year, the Nordic Council published its first international strategy, urging the five governments ‘to exploit the opportunities inherent in Nordic co-operation to a far greater extent’.
The Nordic populations are also supportive: In a 2017 poll, more than 90 percent deemed Nordic cooperation ‘important’ or ‘very important,’ and around two-thirds would like to see increased cooperation.
The recurring message from Nordic officials has been that the five states are stronger when they work together in the international arena. Yet, and as the Nordic states’ largely nationalised management of the Covid-19 pandemic exemplifies, joint visions and ambitions do not necessarily translate into corresponding policies and action.
Nordic repertoireWhy does the ‘Nordic dimension’ not feature more prominently in the everyday foreign policies of the individual Nordic states? Why do we observe that even on seemingly shared objectives – such as on human rights and peace and reconciliation – the Nordics typically pursue distinct foreign policies?
In a recent research article, we address these questions by zooming in on the continued “pull” of the distinctive foreign policy repertoires of each of the five states, and how these repertoires are mobilized as the states seek recognition and support from more powerful states.
Why states go solo when they advocate integrationFollowing sociologist Charles Tilly’s definition, repertoires can be understood as ‘a limited set of routines that are learned, shared, and acted out through a relatively deliberate process of choice’.
In the context of foreign policy, repertoires thus summarise the structural constraints, along with self-perceptions, resources, and established routines, which shape what a given state can do, what it knows how to do, and what others expects it to do. Think of it as a foreign policy “culture” or how foreign policy is practiced in a given context.
The explanation is relatively straightforward: In the early Cold War years, the Nordic states’ geopolitical location, war experiences, geographical proximity to and relationship with dominant powers led them to pursue different paths in the formulation of foreign and security policies.
As Arne Olav Brundtland noted in an influential article published more than half a decade ago, the different alliance choices of the five states came to constitute a ‘Nordic balance’, which helped diminish great power tensions in the region as a whole.
In other words: Sweden’s neutrality, Denmark and Norway’s NATO membership and Finland’s Friendship, Cooperation and Assistance Treaty with the Soviet Union served to situate each Nordic state in an institutional setting that balanced between competing concerns.
While the idea of the Nordic balance appeared less relevant as a conceptual lens in the post-Cold War era, we find that it remains important for understanding how, over time, distinct repertoires for how to assess and respond to broader international dynamics emerged in each Nordic state.
Third-order priorityThe oft-stated rationale for increased Nordic foreign policy collaboration is that the five states in question share many basic traits and foreign policy objectives. This includes an explicit and steadfast commitment to upholding the ‘rules-based international order’ and its accompanying institutions and belief-systems.
Old barriers to cooperation have also been (partly) removed: Different formal associations with NATO and the EU seem less relevant than before, with Norway and Iceland closely aligned with the EU, and Finland and Sweden entering into formal partnership agreements with NATO.
On the other hand, the individual power repertoires of Nordic states involve not only expertise built up over decades within each foreign service, but also its international networks and reputation in the eyes of other states. This can help to explain why the “Nordic” dimension often remains “a third-order priority” when the individual states manoeuvre their relations with major powers such as the United States, Russia and China.
Standing out from the crowdBut there is also something else going on here: all states – and small states in particular – seek recognition from significant others.
This search for recognition is rational; to be heard and have the ability to influence important decisions, you need to be invited, listened to, and bring something to the table. To succeed in this recognition game and secure access to more powerful states, there is often a premium on differentiating yourself from your neighbour, even when you share the same foreign policy objectives.
While often advocating the Nordic brand, the Nordic states are at the same time competing for attention, visibility, and influence.
In the quest for recognition from significant others, therefore, there is a not insignificant element of the ‘narcissism of small differences’ involved: While often advocating the Nordic brand when they meet on the international scene, the Nordic states are at the same time competing for attention, visibility, and influence.
The best example would perhaps be the Nordic states’ relations with significant other states – and most notably the United States. Seeking access to policymakers in Washington, Denmark has for example foregrounded its ‘super-Atlanticism,’ while Norway has built a brand around its proficiency in peace and reconciliation.
Going informalBecause of these niche strategies of each Nordic state, there are few indications that a discernible or overarching ‘Nordic’ foreign policy is in the making.
While Nordic officials often speak warmly about the potential for more integration and greater unity, the five states usually prefer individualised – and differentiated – foreign policies in their relations with major powers.
To the extent that a ‘common Nordic order’ exists, it is characterised by low-key practices for coordination and information exchange, practical and technical collaboration, rather than by bold foreign policy statements, shared positions and policies.
Faced with a rising China, an assertive Russia or a rapidly evolving global pandemic, the Nordic states will willingly exchange views and information. However, when carving out responses, they will in most cases prefer to draw on their national foreign policy repertoire rather than a joint Nordic one.
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Science has traditionally been one of the most international activities. Long before political and economic European integration started in the mid-20th century, researchers were collaborating and exchanging knowledge across national and organisational borders. During the past decades, international research collaboration has increased due to a number of processes internal and external to science such as increasing complexity and specialization of research, interdisciplinarity, need to address Grand societal challenges, increasing costs as well as institutional and policy incentives and funding schemes such as the European Union’s (EU) Framework Programme for funding research and innovation.
As international research collaboration has been increasing and more national and EU public funds are being invested to facilitate it, questions of how, when and why such collaborations work and do not work become increasingly relevant. How, why and by whom are collaborators chosen? How the aims and topics of collaborations are defined? And how are collaborations organized? These are some of the topics that I address in my recent publication Self-Organisation and Steering in International Research Collaborations (Ulnicane 2021). My contribution is part of an edited volume Community and Identity in Contemporary Technosciences (Kastenhofer and Molyneux-Hodgson 2021) which benefited from discussions and exchanges at the workshop in Vienna in 2017.
My chapter in this volume builds on my longer term research on international scientific collaborations and extensive empirical research including analysis of scientific publications, organisational, project and CV data as well as 61 interviews and 31 site visits to research institutes in Germany, France, the Netherlands, Belgium and the United Kingdom (Ulnicane 2015).
Arranged marriages & old boys’ networks
While international research collaborations are often seen as something positive and desirable, they can also have more problematic aspects such as those related to power dynamics and funding pressures.
Increased funding and support for collaborations from the EU, national agencies and universities can face some backlash when it comes with instructions with whom and how to collaborate prioritizing certain countries, organizations and topics. Researchers often seen such conditions attached to funding as ‘arranged marriages’ or even ‘forced marriages’ that require them to collaborate with partners who are not scientifically the most interesting and relevant ones. They see it as an interference and argue that it leads to ‘artificial networks’ brought together by funding and institutional requirements rather than intrinsic scientific motivations.
A strong dislike among many researchers towards policies that lead to ‘arranged marriages’ sometimes make them nostalgic about ‘good old times’ which are remembered as providing scientists with a lot of freedom to choose their collaborators as well as topics and modes of collaboration. This nostalgia is characterised by a sentiment that ‘scientists know best’ how to collaborate among themselves, while policy-makers and administrators would do best not to interfere apart from providing unconditional support for such endeavours, in particular if they are scientifically productive.
While this approach might have indeed produced interesting scientific results on many occasions, it has not been unproblematic. One well-known problem is that many scientists prefer to collaborate with partners similar to themselves leading to creation of ‘old boys’ networks’ that exclude women and researchers of other ethnic and racial origin. While supporters of free collaborations claim that they are only interested in most scientifically relevant partners, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that collaborator choice can also be based on stereotypes about who is perceived as competent.
Beyond ‘good self-organisation’ and ‘bad steering’
My research on international research collaboration (Ulnicane 2015; 2021) suggests that in productive collaborations self-organisation and steering can interact and even reinforce each other when expansion of self-organised networks is supported by funding which encourages diversity in terms of disciplines, nationalities and gender. Rather than seeing self-organisation as always good for collaboration and steering as counterproductive, both of them have their advantages and disadvantages. Self-organisation can offer a lot of scientific freedom in choosing partners, topics and modes of collaboration but it can also suffer from limited network and resources. Steering can come with conditions and compromises as well as with heavy administration but it can provide resources for growth and opportunities to learn from new and unusual collaborators. It is important how these different factors interact in a way that is reinforcing and productive rather than hampering and hindering for collaborations.
While it is important to understand and observe dynamics of self-organisation and steering and their interaction, there are many other things to consider when examining collaborations. Rather than assuming that collaborations are good and coming up with simple recipes, it is crucial to reflect carefully when and what kind of international research collaboration can achieve certain purposes. And when it might also be necessary to provide a space for individual research that involves closer or looser interactions with relevant scientific communities.
Dr. Inga Ulnicane is working on science, technology and innovation governance, politics and policy. Her publications and commissioned reports focus on topics such as Artificial Intelligence, dual use, Grand societal challenges, and European integration in research and innovation.
References:
Kastenhofer K. and Molyneux-Hodgson S. (eds) (2021) Community and Identity in Contemporary Technosciences. Sociology of the Sciences Yearbook, vol 31. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61728-8
Ulnicane I. (2021) Self-Organisation and Steering in International Research Collaborations. In: Kastenhofer K., Molyneux-Hodgson S. (eds) Community and Identity in Contemporary Technosciences. Sociology of the Sciences Yearbook, vol 31. Springer, Cham. pp.107-125 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61728-8_5
Ulnicane, I. (2015) Why do international research collaborations last? Virtuous circle of feedback loops, continuity and renewal. Science and Public Policy 42(4): 433–447 https://doi.org/10.1093/scipol/scu060
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The European Central Bank (ECB) is a strange creature. Since the Lisbon Treaty in 2009, it has been a supranational EU institution that is jointly owned by all member states. But when it comes to its policy tasks, it acts mostly as the central bank of the Euro Area. As I show in a , these two roles can conflict with one another and the ECB’s choice of which one to take more seriously is mostly the result of its internal politics.
I compared the ECB’s credit lines to central banks from member states outside the Euro Area (like Denmark or Hungary) during the Global Financial crisis in 2008 and the COVID-19 crisis in 2020. In both instances, several central banks reached out to the ECB and requested support to be able to stabilise their financial markets. Intriguingly, the ECB did not treat all requests the same way and allowed some central banks to borrow at better conditions than others.
A clear economic rationale exists for applying different credit conditions. lines, the most common instrument, are secured against nothing but trust in the borrower’s ability to repay; repos, by contrast, protect the lender against losses, but are less useful for the borrowers. If the ECB acted as the Euro Area’s central bank, we might expect that it sets lending terms based on the technical merits of both instruments. This would mean that it demands tougher borrowing conditions from member states with weaker sovereign credit ratings to reduce the financial risks to its own balance sheet.
In 2008, sovereign credit risk indeed seemed to have been the ECB’s main consideration. Sweden and Denmark – two member states with perfect credit ratings – received swaps, while Hungary, Latvia, and Poland (all of which had lower ratings) could only borrow under more stringent terms. Additional interview evidence confirms that the ECB rejected the Hungarian request for a swap line primarily due to opposition from its Economics department because of concerns regarding credit risk. As Eastern European members states faced financial meltdowns, the ECB was primarily concerned with limiting its own liability.
But in 2020, the ECB seemed less worried about credit ratings alone. Croatia and Bulgaria received swap lines, even though they had the same weak credit ratings as Hungary and Romania, to which the ECB only provided repos. Why did the ECB seemingly put aside its worries about financial risks for only two countries during the COVID-19 crisis?
To understand this shift I argue that we have to look more closely at the ECB in its role as supranational EU institution. As such it has a special relationship with that want to enter the Euro Area. Before a member state can adopt the euro as its official currency, it has to spend at least two years in an exchange rate arrangement called the ERM II, where it promises to keep its exchange rate relatively fixed to the euro. All member states except Denmark are legally obliged to adopt the euro eventually. But several Eastern European member states have delayed this process by not joining the ERM II.
What set Croatia and Bulgaria apart in 2020 was that they were on the cusp of joining the ERM II and had solid macroeconomic records to back up their decisions. Nevertheless during the overall financial market panic, their currencies were suddenly attacked by speculators and failure to defend their exchange rates would have delayed their ERM II entry. By backing up both central banks through swap lines, the ECB, however, sent an unequivocal sign that speculation was futile. Consequently, the market pressures dissipated immediately after the credit lines were announced. In the summer of 2020, the entry of Croatia and Bulgaria into the ERM II was fast-tracked and now both countries are one step closer to Euro Area membership. By contrast, Romania’s ERM II entry is not anticipated before 2024 and it remains doubtful that Hungary will ever want to follow.
The ECB’s proactive and informal support for Euro Area aspirants contrasts with its disciplinarian stance during the 2008 financial crisis in Latvia. Back then, Latvia participated in the ERM II and wanted to adopt the euro rapidly but found itself so close to devaluing its currency that it had to request a sovereign bailout from the EU and the IMF. Although the ECB was also opposed to devaluation, it explicitly prohibited the Latvian central bank from using its credit line to prop up the exchange rate. As an ERM II participant, Latvia supposedly had to show that it could withstand such shocks on its own. An internal document (which the ECB disclosed after a public access request) spells out its rationale back in November 2008: “the ECB’s policy line has always been that […] unilateral pegs by third countries are not backed in any way by policy commitments from the ECB”.
The ECB’s policy towards Euro Area outsiders, clearly, has come a long way over the past twelve years. In 2008, its overarching goal was to protect its own balance sheet, while choosing a very restrictive interpretation of its obligations under the ERM II. Last year, the ECB acted more flexibly by supporting aspiring EMU members against currency speculators, apparently irrespective of their credit ratings or institutional obligations. It seems that the ECB has widened its focus from monetary policy considerations of the Euro Area to a more political logic related to its role as a supranational institution.
To understand the ECB’s reinterpretation of its role as an EU institution and international currency issuer, I rely on literature about international organisations that stresses changes in leadership are drivers of policy change. Back in 2008, the ECB paid little attention to developments in EU member states outside the Euro Area . Its Executive Board back then was stuffed with career central bankers who held orthodox views on how politically central banks should operate. One Board Member summed up this thinking at the height of the crisis in January 2009 by asserting that “[t]he ECB cannot be a small god for everyone or everything”.
Since then, the ECB has developed its awareness of the political significance of its actions. The current Governor, Christine Lagarde is not just the first female ECB Governor, but also the first one to never have worked in a central bank before. But as a former Managing Director of the International Monetary Fund, she brings a wealth of experience in dealing with the politics of international organizations during financial crises. For instance, when the crisis called for it, Lagarde knew that a widely with the Bulgarian prime minister would send a strong sign of confidence.
The question whether the ECB is acting too independently from its original mission is currently of concern to many scholars of European integration. A recent piece argues that by taking decisions based on political, rather than technical considerations, the ECB is overstepping its mandate and becoming politicised. But in the realm of international cooperation, it is difficult to point to an easy way out because the ECB may have to balance conflicting imperatives as EU institution and Euro Area central bank. Though its policy in 2008 has been severely criticised, its more politically considerate course of action in 2020 likewise highlights potential legitimacy problems. The ECB seems to be stuck in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation.
I conclude that future scholarship should pay closer attention to the ECB’s internal politics in order to understand its policy decisions in such ambiguous situations. After all, the ECB was originally made independent to shield it from political pressures. If its role as an EU institution requires it to also take into account political considerations, a new rationale might be needed.
Lukas Spielberger is a third-year PhD candidate at Leiden University and a UACES Scholar 2021. In his doctoral research, he studies the cooperation between central banks across Europe during the financial crisis in 2008/09. His wider interests concern EU macroeconomic governance, international central bank cooperation, and the role of the financial sector in national growth models.
The European Commission’s support for the production of this publication does not constitute an endorsement of the contents, which reflect the views only of the authors, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.
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In 2017, the parliament of Catalonia (Spain) unsuccessfully declared the region’s independence after several years of intense secessionist politics. Three years before the Catalan bid for independence, the Scottish people had voted to remain in the UK in a referendum on the constitution. After Brexit, however, this issue is far from settled. Movements of sovereignty are also found in Flanders (Belgium) or the Basque Country (Spain). Although some authors had held that nationalism was a phenomenon of the past that would disappear with globalisation, Europe is living instead an “age of secession” or, at least, an age of secessionist politics.
In democracies, due to the importance of persuading voters for movements to achieve their goals, discourse emerges as a crucial variable with enough potential to trigger radical constitutional change. This post contributes to our understanding of secessionist discourse by outlining how minority nationalist parties frame secession, namely, how they describe and justify independence. In my research, I have identified four main frames that are always present in pro-independence parties’ propaganda: the sense of acting on behalf of a distinct community or nation (communitarian component), the mobilisation around perceived grievances against the host state (remedial component), the desirability of being ruled by themselves (self-government component) and the achievement of sovereignty as means of accomplishing several policy goals such as improving people’s lives (instrumental component).
Regarding the former, secessionist parties always claim to act on behalf of a distinct human group that lives in a perceived Homeland, namely, a nation. This group is allegedly different from the rest of the population of the host state. An example of this situation would be the case of the Scots in the UK or the Catalans in Spain. Therefore, the minority nation they claim to represent is the “imagined community” around which the case for independence is built, that is to say, Scotland or Catalonia – following the same example. Hence, the first strand of discourse stresses nationhood or the existence of a group with an “encompassing culture” as the source that legitimates secession: “we are a nation; therefore, we deserve independence”. Following this rationale, independence is the “normal” state for nations in the world.
However, this distinct human group would have few reasons to undertake the risks of creating its own polity if its current situation were satisfactory. To put it in other words: if the union were positive for the minority group, there would be no need for them to secede. Therefore, a discourse around constructed or perceived grievances is also always present: nationalist entrepreneurs try to mobilise the population through a “distancing rhetoric” from the host state. Achieving statehood would remedy the mistreatment exerted by the central authorities against the minority group. In European democracies, secessionist parties tend to advance “soft” remedial arguments for independence based on an unequal distribution of power, resources, and/or status. it is typical for nationalist parties to complain about the “fiscal plundering” against their region, the inadequate protection of the local language and culture or the central government’s encroachment on regional powers.
Thirdly, the desirability of achieving sovereignty or self-government as opposed to foreign or alien rule also underlies all the movements seeking self-determination. This discourse is the pure “independentist” argument for secession: it will always be preferable to be ruled by ourselves than to be ruled by others. Pro-independence parties state that their group is a permanent minority within the established polity, leading to a feeling of statelessness. In this regard, the minority will never control the state’s apparatus, and thus the majority-alien group owns the tools for ruling the secessionist community. As opposed to this, pro-independence activists argue that the policy decisions over the targeted group – including the decisions around its constitutional future – must be taken by this group, and not by the alien larger community.
Finally, all secessionist movements give their targeted population instrumental reasons to convince them to support independence. Therefore, attaining statehood is a means of obtaining particular goals in one or more policy areas: preserving the group’s culture, boosting the economy, improving the welfare system, etc. From this point of view, sovereignty would simply be the means of building a better country and improve people’s lives – thus, not simply a way to address grievances. As the Scottish government stated before the 2014 referendum campaign, “Scotland is not oppressed, and we have no need to be liberated. Independence matters because we do not have to powers to reach our potential”.
To summarise, we have seen that secessionist parties advance four main arguments to persuade people of the benefits of independence – based on identity and nationhood, grievances, self-government, and policy goals. The next question surrounds the combination of these arguments in independence parties’ propaganda platforms. Preliminary research shows that, maybe counter-intuitively, secessionist parties increasingly focus on the “material” benefits of independence by providing arguments based on improving people’s lives. Conversely, identity and nationhood, although present, are less prevalent in their discourse. Further research should explore why “ethnic entrepreneurs” such as minority nationalist parties do not stress identity-based arguments when making the case for constitutional change. The next developments in places such as Catalonia or Scotland will provide more clues to understand how these actors behave. What we know for sure is that, in Europe, secessionist politics is here to stay.
Carles Ferreira Torres is a Political Scientist, Assistant Lecturer and PhD Candidate in Comparative Politics at the University of Kent. He studies Territorial Politics, Nationalism and Political Parties.
Twitter: @carlesferreira
The European Commission’s support for the production of this publication does not constitute an endorsement of the contents, which reflect the views only of the authors, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.
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