Thierry de Montbrial is Founder and President of the French Institute of International Relations and the World Policy Conference, as well as a Member of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences.

 

Globalization, whether called “liberal” or “neoliberal,” of British (under Margaret Thatcher) and American (under Ronald Reagan) origin, spread across the planet at the end of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first. It precipitated the fall of communism and the Russian empire, temporarily submerging several centuries of sediment. It also favored the economic take-off of countries, especially in Asia, that turned their backs on Marxism-Leninism and on theories with uncertain foundations, such as technology transfers and import substitution, without paying attention to the institutional and operational conditions necessary for the success of such operations. The deployment of neoliberalism was favored by the revolution in information and communication technologies—as the “digital revolution” was first called in the 1970s and 1980s—whose successive waves, increasingly high, continue to break. New waves appear when societies have not had time to adapt to previous ones. The most recent is that of generative artificial intelligence (AI), which, even more than previous ones, is a source of anxiety at least as much as hope. ChatGPT is currently the best-known application.

Europe and its “flanks”

 

The principle of action and reaction is at the root of human history and all natural phenomena, and we are now beginning to recognize the need to regulate technology, without really knowing how to go about it. In this sense, as with health or climate, the notion of “global governance” remains all the more relevant since digital technologies mechanically increase the openness of states, large or small, making their internal governance more difficult, which partly explains the crisis of democracy. Still according to the principle of action and reaction, many states are, however, seeking to limit their openness to protect themselves from certain external influences and therefore strengthen their internal governance. Some are evolving in an oligarchic or even autocratic direction. If, contrary to globalist ideology, we recognize that it would be impossible to maintain a completely open international system, we may come to the notion of a “reasonably open” one, which I made a fundamental principle of the World Policy Conference. A notion that should be supplemented by the addition of a form of governance that is itself sufficiently organized. It remains to be seen how to preserve the democratic ideal in an increasingly complex context. The importance of this question is evident from the proliferation of populist governments, which come to power through democratic procedures.

 

A Reaction to Liberal Globalization

The reaction to liberal globalization began with the political fragmentation of the international system, initially under the influence of Islamist terrorism, with its most extreme manifestation being the attacks of September 11th, 2001. In the background, the appeal of political Islamism as an ideology can be most simply explained by the attraction exerted on certain populations by a code that subjects all human actions to a law, which the prophet is believed to have received directly from God, and to which one only has to submit to gain access to paradise. But no utopia can indefinitely withstand the test of reality. Political Islamism will fade, but not without causing further damage, as seen in Afghanistan since the pitiful American withdrawal in 2021. Another reaction to liberal globalization is the return of autocracy in Russia, embodied by the successor chosen in 1999 by Boris Yeltsin, after his country went through the ruinous 1990s. Vladimir Putin’s restoration of the “power vertical” can be interpreted as a partial closure to foreign (primarily Western) penetration following the fall of the Soviet Union. A third example is the Chinese Communist Party’s takeover under Xi Jinping, chosen by his peers to succeed Hu Jintao in 2013, who was deemed too weak in facing the internal and external difficulties already looming for the Middle Kingdom.

 

These three examples, among others, lead us to question the Western doctrine of (extreme forms of) democracy promotion, shared in the United States by both neo-conservatives and Democrats like Joe Biden. It is true that both camps allow many exceptions, as Americans are pragmatic. The two primary reasons for the failure of democratic activism are the lengthy time required for any transplant to succeed, and the difficulty for any political regime to withstand increased openness without risking a loss of control.

 

“Global South,” “Collective West”

It does not seem necessary to multiply examples or further theorize to understand why, outside the “collective West,” the political heterogeneity of the international system—and thus its belligerence—is increasing. This trend counters those who believe in the imposed expansion of democracy as a prerequisite for peace under international law. The real issue is, in fact, in the conditions needed for democracy’s success. We can never sufficiently criticize the error of confusing international law with the organization of global governance. That said, regarding the opening and closing of political entities in the international system, the most unexpected phenomenon is the emergence of a “Global South” with vague contours, based on the strictly geopolitical notion that the era of the “collective West” is coming to an end.

 

The “Global South” is composed of states generally not strongly attached to democracy, which, like those that joined BRICS in 2024, feel uninhibited toward the so-called developed countries. Consequently, they increasingly assert their own interests, culture, and independent stances on international politics. They therefore refuse to place themselves under the protection of a great power and seek to maintain freedom of action—more effectively than the “non-aligned” of the Cold War era. This helps explain why so many countries declined to condemn Russia after its act of aggression on February 24th, 2022. They viewed it as an internal matter among the Cold War actors, relegating them to their cynicism about international law.

 

However, it would be overly simplistic to stop at this definition of the “Global South.” In the background, it is within the “collective West”—specifically the United States—that wokeism has developed with its focus on power relations among human groups distinguished by various micro-identities (whether known or yet to be identified), thereby opening the door to a sweeping generalization of class struggle and, politically, to anarchy. Some trace this wokeism back to the French philosophers of the 1960s, suggesting it has now circled back to Europe, where it fuels a sense of guilt regarding anything remotely linked to colonialism. This may explain why Emmanuel Macron described Algeria’s colonization as a “crime against humanity.”

 

But, as the wheel turns, this is beside the point. While the United States can no longer maintain global order as it did for much of the late twentieth century, it remains, by far, the planet’s leading power. This status is due to an institutional system born out of a culture of success and pragmatism that has weathered opposing ideological currents. They have thus managed to dominate all waves of the digital revolution and the world of technology overall. At the same time, thanks to the remarkable cohesion of their military-digital-industrial complex, their absolute supremacy in the realm of means continues to secure a unique position relative to competitors or adversaries, whoever they may be.

 

A United States Unsure of Itself

The question of the evolution of American society arises nevertheless, in which wokeism is only a visible symptom of deregulation. Throughout the Cold War and beyond, admirers of the United States were accustomed to an essentially coherent society, even when faced with complex issues like racism and civil rights, and turbulent events such as the Vietnam War or the Watergate scandal. With a notable tolerance for violence that anyone with a basic familiarity with the country’s history and geography can understand, American society seemed able to absorb shocks without great difficulty. American democracy used to function like a well-oiled machine, centered around the Republican and Democratic parties, which, from a European perspective, could be seen as center-right and center-left. This machine has broken down on both sides, both ideologically and functionally. There can no longer be any doubt about it since Donald Trump’s victory over Hillary Clinton in 2016, and the conditions surrounding Joe Biden’s election four years later, which were notably marked by the extraordinary impact of the Covid-19 pandemic.

 

As the November 5th, 2024 elections approach, we are again facing the two same symptoms of the broken machine. Donald Trump narrowly escaped an assassination attempt on July 13th; though entangled in legal battles, he rides a wave of conservative support. Can the Democrats still win with Kamala Harris as their candidate? What is at stake is nothing less than the future of American democracy. This question could be raised for many other countries that sometimes bring extravagant personalities to power. However, the stakes, for the world’s leading power, go far beyond American citizens. As head of the executive branch, the President of the United States holds the levers of foreign policy, except in matters relating to trade policy.

 

Where Will System Fragmentation Stop?

When considering current or future conflicts, one might fear that the ongoing fragmentation of the international system will continue until it culminates in a new division of the world into blocs. This hypothesis must be taken seriously. But for now, we must put this development into perspective and perhaps give a chance to a shift in its trajectory. Large states always need international trade: to address shortages in natural resources (energy, raw materials, etc.), to acquire goods they do not produce, or that they could only produce at excessive costs; and to ensure markets for products in which they hold a broad comparative advantage. Thus, under the leadership of Chancelor Angela Merkel, Germany prospered by importing inexpensive hydrocarbons from Russia and exporting cars to China. This model has been drastically challenged by the EU’s sanctions policy against Russia, coupled with China’s development of its own automobile industry, to the extent that it is now accused of flooding foreign markets with overcapacity at cut-rate prices, thereby engaging in dumping. In retaliation, Americans and Europeans have decided to heavily tax China’s electric vehicle exports.

 

Yet, we have not yet reached the point of all-out economic warfare. Obstacles to international trade are also increasing for less traditional reasons: the rise in sanctions, with a greater use of trade and finance as strategic tools (weaponization of international trade); and the desire of some states to reindustrialize to reduce reliance on critical products such as semiconductors or certain medicines, or more broadly, to counter the effects of supply chain disruptions—whether geopolitical in origin or not (e.g., the Fukushima disaster in 2011).

 

In reality, the excesses of the international division of labor and outsourcing (until recently, China was referred to as the world’s factory, and countries like Vietnam still partially fulfill this role) have triggered protectionist responses, which, beyond sanctions or concerns about excessive technology transfers, can be understood in classical terms (uncertainty, security needs—such as agriculture, for example). Overall, these practices drive up costs and fuel inflation but have not yet fundamentally undermined trade or trade agreements, despite the weakening of the World Trade Organization.

 

Other aspects of economic politicization are also problematic today, such as the unprecedented Western decisions to freeze the assets of the Central Bank of Russia and to redirect the income from these assets for Ukraine’s benefit. One can easily imagine the impact of such practices on the decisions of other central banks, such as those of China or Saudi Arabia. This partly explains the soaring price of gold, which, even in the era of cryptocurrencies, maintains its age-old role as a safe haven. Lastly, it should be noted that, as a general trend, direct investments and corporate transactions are increasingly viewed through the lens of geopolitics and geostrategy. The great powers of our time, led by the United States and China, are keenly aware of this, as are smaller players with sovereign funds (Singapore, the Gulf Emirates, etc.) who, in part, stake their future on this in an environment filled with uncertainty.

 

While we may indeed speak of a trend toward the politicization (weaponization) of the world economy and the formation of blocs, there is still no reason to believe that the United States and China, for example, wish to fundamentally challenge international trade. Even if they did, they could not do so immediately.

 

The War in Ukraine

Two and a half years after Russian troops entered Ukraine, it is time to take a step back from a Western discourse—European, particularly French—that focuses almost exclusively on questions of principle (the authority of international law, the right of peoples to self-determination, the fight for democracy, etc.), on the intentions attributed to Putin (the desire to reconstitute the Russian empire, etc.), and interspersed with terse declarations presented as self-evident, such as equating Ukrainian resistance with nothing less than a fight for the survival of the EU.

 

Anyone seeking to form a nuanced judgment must also consider broader aspects, and remember, for example, that the fall of the communist regime in 1991 coincided with that of the Russian empire, almost without a fight. This unique event was bound to have serious consequences, notably for the Ukrainian national movement (Soviet Ukraine was not entirely “Ukrainian”) in its search for a territory truly its own. The historical conditions of Russia’s territorial composition show that it has always been a collection of peoples spread over an ever-widening territory, with natural or forced intermixing, particularly under Stalin’s dictatorship. If we remove from a present-day map of Russia (post-1991 borders) the territories dominated by ethnic groups other than Russian, we are left with a shapeless lace: the Russian Federation remains a mosaic, even if it is overwhelmingly Russian (about 80 percent). Russia’s historical particularity is that it is inherently an empire, distinguishing it from the ephemeral European empires that succeeded each other until Napoleon and William II.

 

French, like many languages, sometimes uses the same word (here, the word empire) to designate vastly different realities, which can lead to significant errors in reasoning. We might also consider the word democracy in this light. For our purposes here, to what extent, for example, can we compare Algeria and Ukraine, with France in the former case, and Russia in the latter?

 

The second essential observation about the war in Ukraine is that the first concern of political units (mainly states, in contemporary times) has always been border security. Incidentally, the word Ukraine means “borderlands,” and indeed, the fate of Ukrainians has been to find themselves geopolitically at the crossroads of empires. In our era, where technology shifts the way we perceive everything, security still begins at the borders. This is something the EU, which aims to be a political unit, has not yet fully recognized. Securing the borders of a country as vast as Russia poses a unique challenge. Canada, also immense but with a small population spread along a narrow belt, is essentially only exposed on the side of the United States, which, for understandable reasons, does not worry it much—at least for now. In contrast, when viewed from Moscow’s perspective, Russia’s border security concerns are extensive and complex, especially in the south (the Caucasian and Central Asian republics), in the east (China, an immensely populous neighbor facing an almost empty territory), and in the west.

 

Let us clarify this last point. To the northwest, access is blocked by the deceptive Baltic Gate. The port of Saint Petersburg allows ships to exit via the Baltic, but apart from the fact that this sea is shallow—hindering the navigation of nuclear submarines, for instance—to reach the North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, one must pass through the Danish straits: the Baltic Gate is narrow, if not entirely closed. From this perspective, the entry of Finland and Sweden into NATO should not fundamentally change the situation, even if the United States establishes bases in these two countries. The Russians are counting on the Arctic unblocking due to global warming, which could one day be a real game changer. To the west lies the Belarusian Gate, an open route corresponding to the great Northern European plain. It has always been a favored pathway; others are south of the Urals and along the Aralo-Caspian depression. To the southwest, the Ruthenian Gate offers a narrow passage through the Carpathians. The Bessarabian Gap has played a significant role in history: skirting the Black Sea, it forms an easy and natural invasion route. The Black Sea itself, however, is also a deceptive gate due to the Turkish straits: the Bosphorus and Dardanelles have always been flashpoints in conflicts over access to the Mediterranean.

 

The Russian Fault

Better than a lengthy exposition, these brief geostrategic remarks can lead to the conclusion that, for the Russians—with their “power vertical,” with or without Putin—the objective of the invasion was not the reconquest of Ukraine as a first step in reconstituting the empire. The exiled Russian historian Sergei Medvedev is likely correct when he notes, “Putinism is not an aberration but a synthesis of Russian history.” The current master of the Kremlin, now reappointed for a fifth term and set to surpass Stalin in longevity, would not have lasted so long had he not always been realistic.

 

I am one of those who have been criticized for believing that a state with a GDP not exceeding that of Italy or Spain, even with Russia’s strong military tradition, could not launch a conquest of a country like Ukraine. This error can, however, be contextualized if we accept that the objective of the “special military operation” was not to annex the former Soviet republic, but to replace a government deemed too nationalist with a more favorable regime. At the time, Viktor Yanukovych’s name was even mentioned—the loser of the “Orange Revolution” of 2004—whose removal during the Maidan Revolution in February 2014 led to the annexation of Crimea, where the Russians encountered no serious resistance.

 

Even if it had a limited objective, the Kremlin miscalculated. It grossly underestimated the moral and military capacity of Ukrainian nationalism for resistance, fueled by the revolutions of 2004 and especially 2014. The Kremlin also underestimated the extent of external support, which its intelligence services failed to fully assess. It overestimated its own military capabilities, validating the doubts of those outside Russia who were surprised by the operation’s launch. We remember the Russian forces’ initial retreat, followed by their regrouping and reinforcement in eastern Ukraine. Since the Russians had failed to carry out a Prague-style coup in Kyiv, they were left with waging a full-scale war to control their western borders, particularly along the Sea of Azov and the Black Sea, and to strengthen ties with Lukashenko’s Belarus. Russian leaders likely believe that the country’s vital interests are engaged in this struggle, as they might be on other borders, such as with Kazakhstan, if a regime deemed hostile were to take power in Astana. If this reasoning holds, we can better understand why the Kremlin will continue to use all available levers, in the Caucasus or Georgia in particular, to preserve its influence.

 

A Collective Sin?

Before offering some thoughts on the prospects for the coming months, I will add a few reflections. First, it is not too soon to ask how we arrived at the current situation, with its collective and individual tragedies, its courage and its baseness, and perhaps in the end winners and losers who will not align with the simple notions of good and bad from stories with happy endings. For some, including myself, Western leaders, particularly Europeans, in their eagerness to reap the “peace dividends,” failed to recognize the need in the 1990s to build a post-Soviet collective security system to prevent or mitigate the foreseeable repercussions of the USSR’s collapse. However, I also acknowledge that at that time, it was difficult to be “more royalist than the king”: it was the Soviets under Gorbachev, and then the Russians under Yeltsin, who presided over the dismantling of the system without considering its consequences. Even today, we remain astounded by this moral collapse. For others, the West, and particularly the EU, extended a hand of support to the Russian leaders of that era and even, at the beginning of this century, to Vladimir Putin. They accuse him of irredentism and attribute full responsibility for the war to him, denying him any mitigating circumstances before the tribunal of history.

 

While awaiting that verdict, two camps, broadly speaking, can also be distinguished. The first aligns more with the realist school of international relations, while the second places “principles” (law, democracy, morality, etc.) above all else. Personally, I do not believe that realists are necessarily immoral, nor that idealists are lost in a world of teddy bears. But I do not know of any builder, in any field of work, who is not first and foremost a realist, even in the way they dress their words.

 

It bears repeating that the first rule of any foreign policy is to ensure security in one’s neighborhood and thus, first and foremost, at one’s borders. In an inter-state system, peace therefore presupposes that each state can control its own territory and deter others from actions that are contrary to its interests—all within the framework of international law. In reality, these two conditions are rarely fully achieved for all interacting states, and the effectiveness of international law is seldom sufficient to prevail. In the best of cases, diplomacy can prevent war, at the cost of concessions by the political units concerned. Otherwise—something Europeans have sought to forget—the Clausewitzian principle has never lost its relevance: war is the continuation of politics by other means, and it is the outcome of the clash of wills that determines, at least, the immediate aftermath.

 

The Evolution of War

This is how the relationship between Ukraine and Russia can be summed up in a few lines. It’s worth noting that similar situations are not lacking in the current international system. Everyone knows that in Africa, where borders were drawn by the Berlin Congress of 1884-1885, the distribution of populations does not correspond to ethnic realities. Consequently, problems will persist as long as nation-building remains incomplete on the continent. The potential for neighborhood conflicts is considerable, varying with resource distribution across territories. This helps explain the underlying causes of the conflict between the vast Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), struggling to control its resource-rich region of North Kivu, and the smaller yet strong state of Rwanda, which maintains deep ethnic ties with this province for historical reasons. Situations like these are much more complex than those who consider them solely in terms of principle might think, and it would be naive to believe that the phantom “international community” could resolve them.

 

Once a war has begun, it cannot be stopped by simple injunctions invoking international law or morality. Following Russia’s setbacks in 2022, a new configuration has emerged. Ukraine is not a NATO member, yet it has received widespread support from public opinion within most NATO countries, whose governments have increasingly mobilized in its favor. Moreover, they have adopted the rhetoric of Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky, who argues that Ukrainians are fighting to preserve Europe’s freedom. This steadfast Western support, without major fractures thus far, owes much to President Biden, whose European policy has remained faithful to the spirit of the Cold War era—something that his successors may not continue.

 

Many red lines have been crossed, but one remains that Washington refrains from crossing: the United States does not want to see the war brought onto Russian soil with American weapons in the name of defending Ukraine. Crossing this line would effectively mean NATO entering into war with Russia, triggering the dynamics of escalation whose details are well-known to nuclear strategy specialists—unlike the words we heard circulating in France in early 2024 about “sharing nuclear deterrence.”

 

The dominant aspect of the war in 2023-2024 has been the failure of the Ukrainian counteroffensive, after which positions froze in a blend of old (trench warfare) and new (drone warfare), with heavy human losses on both sides. The Russians are gradually advancing in a new phase where the Ukrainians are suffering from their inability to secure control of the skies due to a lack of sufficient aircraft and anti-aircraft systems, as well as limited supplies of shells and other essential munitions. However, they have achieved notable successes in the Black Sea, thwarting the Russian plan to prevent Ukraine from exporting its wheat.

 

Which Way Out of the War?

Faced with the war of attrition that has set in, what are the prospects? Despite alarming demographics, Russia benefits from its numbers and vast territory. It has begun to close itself off and better control its population, particularly through its propaganda. The regime is increasingly becoming autocratic and may evolve into a full-fledged dictatorship. Above all, it has established a genuine war economy. Even during the Soviet era, the military-industrial sector was afforded absolute priority. In the 1990s, many arms factories were converted to civilian purposes (for example, from tanks to refrigerators), but once he came to power, Putin began to reverse that trend, and now the cycle is complete.

 

Moreover, for reasons already explained, the regime is far from isolated. The “friendship” with China is of mutual interest, even if Beijing is aware of its limits in relation to Washington and even if, despite their leaders’ denials, both Russians and Chinese understand that this friendship will not be “eternal.” Over time, it will become increasingly difficult for Moscow to protect its Far Eastern territories from the ambitions of the Middle Kingdom. The country’s elites are aware that by isolating itself for too long, Russia will accumulate a technological and economic lag that will be hard to overcome. Thus, in the long term, Russia’s future lies with Europe and the West, even if its regime cannot quickly transition to democracy. In recent months, the Kremlin has become very close to North Korea—a boon for this country in the tense context of East Asia. We must not forget that Kim Il-sung, the founder of the communist dynasty in Pyongyang, was placed in power by Stalin. This return to origins is not good news for Beijing, which has no interest in the “hermit kingdom” enjoying too much freedom of action.

 

Moscow also benefits from its rapprochement with Iran, which allows it, among other things, to obtain drone supplies. We must also remember that Tehran prides itself on having two directions in which to lean: toward the West, as it did during the time of the Shah as part of an anti-Soviet alliance; and toward the East (Russia, China) since Khomeini’s victory. A significant challenge for Tehran is achieving the status of nuclear power. Russia does not rely solely on China, North Korea, or Iran. It is adept at circumventing Western sanctions and engages in trade with India and the old or new BRICS countries, or more generally, with followers of the “Global South.” It can also be noted that the effective “resourcefulness” of the Ukrainians similarly applies to the Russians and all the former members of the defunct Soviet Union, where resourcefulness was a matter of survival.

 

It is clear that, even if its long-term interests lean toward Europe, Russia is in a position to withstand Ukraine’s resistance for an extended period if necessary. In late spring of 2024, Jake Sullivan, the U.S. National Security Advisor, declared: “If Putin thinks he can hold out longer than the coalition that supports Ukraine, he is wrong.” To prove him right, NATO countries—starting with the Europeans, as the Americans will increasingly demand—will have to pay the price economically over the long term, even as Europe’s competitiveness continues to decline. “Taxing the rich” will not suffice to finance the collective efforts needed across many sectors.

 

To achieve maximalist aims in Ukraine, the United States would need to adjust to a “war economy,” which is currently not the case. Washington will have to agree to deliver increasingly sophisticated systems compared to the more primitive means available to the Russians, a process that will reach its limits sooner or later. The world’s leading power will therefore need to take risks regarding the famous red lines. The American public must not tire, as they often do during external operations. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the Ukrainians will need to accept, over the long term, an attrition rate much higher than that of the Russians, given the population ratio.

 

Zelensky’s team continues to promote the objectives of a return to the 1991 borders and membership in NATO, as well as, of course, the EU. Much more than at the onset of the aggression, it is emphasizing the return of Crimea. For their part, the Russians aim to consolidate their gains and, if possible, also seize Odessa by establishing a junction with Transnistria. For the future, beyond developments on the ground and shifts in public opinion, primarily in Ukraine, we return to what could have been predicted at the end of February 2022: unless there is an extraordinary surprise, the outcome of this war will be decided mainly in Washington. The pivotal period will open after the presidential election on November 5th, 2024, on a chessboard much larger than Ukraine.

 

Europe’s Southern Flank and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

The geostrategic notion of “flank” is essential in the security analysis of any political unit defined by territory, population, and government, essentially a state. By extension, we can also speak of the flanks of the Atlantic Alliance or the EU, as long as we consider them as political units in themselves. The precise delimitation of the flanks depends on the geopolitical situation at any given moment. Thus, the eastern flank of the European Community during the Cold War included states that have since become members of the EU. The history of Europe in the conventional geographical sense has seen many geopolitical configurations, and we can bet that this narrative will continue to unfold in the future. Today, the eastern flank of the EU clearly begins at the borders with Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine, or even with Turkey. The centerpiece is obviously Russia, now in immediate proximity.

 

Our southern flank is more difficult to characterize. To do so, I will rely on a division I used about 20 years ago in my courses at the Conservatoire national des arts et métiers, which grouped North Africa and Southwest Asia into the same region. This vast area extends from the Atlantic coast of Morocco to the Indus basin, widening to the southwest toward sub-Saharan Africa and stretching northeast to the confines of ex-Soviet Central Asia. This immense area, long in longitude but narrow in latitude, resembles a sort of scarf. It has about 400 million inhabitants spread over 15 million square kilometers and encompasses around 30 states. Several characteristics justify its unity: the religious element (the origins of Judaism and Christianity—today the absolute dominance of Islam, which is, however, divided); the importance of Arabic, the language of the Quran; the climate (with the prospect of climate change); and other geographical aspects, such as the dominance of three major rivers (the Nile, the Euphrates, and the Tigris). Before liberal globalization, many distinctive elements of underdevelopment or maldevelopment were found in this region. The area has long been marked by imperial or colonial histories, particularly from the nineteenth century, in the context of the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, by European imperialism (notably French and British, in competition), and later by the oil and gas economy, with the rivalries that ensued.

 

In this region, territorial construction—that is, the creation of political entities—has never been consolidated. There are some of the oldest political entities in the world, such as Egypt, but also recent state constructions resulting from the Treaty of Sèvres in the aftermath of World War I, which have faced decompositions and re-compositions called into question at each crisis, notably through political Islam. The most recent ideology to emerge and flourish in the region over the past half-century is Islamic fundamentalism. It initially manifested itself during the 1979 Iranian revolution, which overthrew the second Shah Pahlavi, whose father had vaguely attempted to follow the example of Atatürk. It is often speculated what Iran would have become had the first Shah lived up to his model.

 

The question has become even more interesting since Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, who has led Turkey since 2003, has continued to place religion at the heart of his conception of nationalism. However, there is no indication that he intends to transform Turkey into an Islamic republic. Even if he wished to, it is likely that he could not; in any case, his reign may be coming to an end. Nevertheless, he has significantly distanced his country from Kemalism. His ambition seems to be at least to demonstrate the enduring compatibility between religion and modernity, while the 1979 revolution installed in Iran a theocratic regime based on a strict application of sharia law, according to the Shiite model, at the expense of the population’s well-being. In some ways, the state of the Islamic Republic of Iran resembles the Soviet Union at the end of the Brezhnev era and under his immediate successors. The USSR had fossilized, unlike Communist China after the victory of the reformers in the late 1970s. With the support of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, the current Iranian leadership still appears relatively solid. The new President of the Republic, Massoud Pezeshkian, is considered a reformer and has made statements in favor of a “constructive dialogue” with the EU.

 

Fundamentalisms and Arab Revolutions

The other wave of fundamentalism was revealed to the West during the Soviet war in Afghanistan, which began around the time of the Iranian revolution. Let us recall a few facts. The Soviet entry into Afghanistan, in the context of the end of the Cold War, created an almost hysterical atmosphere. The United States then decided to support the mujahideen from Pakistan, relying on the Pashtuns, an ethnic group that straddles both Afghanistan and Pakistan. This is the origin of the Taliban. When Gorbachev became head of the Communist Party of the USSR and the Soviets withdrew from Afghanistan, the Americans abruptly turned their backs on the region, particularly on Pakistan. The Taliban, which only emerged around 1994, were able to establish themselves as masters of Pashtun territory. After the deployment of American forces in Saudi Arabia to counter Saddam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait, it was the Taliban who sheltered Al-Qaeda and its leader, Osama bin Laden. A Saudi and Wahhabi, he had collaborated with the CIA during the Soviet war in Afghanistan. Hence, September 11th, 2001.

 

We see how seemingly scattered pieces can suddenly form a coherent puzzle. We also realize that history never ceases to thwart calculations and that we must always remain cautious when trying to assess the consequences of possible decisions. The wave anchored in Wahhabism also drew upon the ideology of the Muslim Brotherhood, which brings us back to World War I. This wave generated a phenomenon of Islamist terrorism that overflowed it: a sort of chain reaction, the main centers of which are all located in the North Africa/Southwest Asia region. The world, and particularly Europe, will not get rid of it for a long time. The story does not end there. The conditions of the American neocon war against Iraq and the overthrowing of Saddam Hussein in 2003, deeply shocked Arab public opinion. These events also favored the development of Islamist terrorism.

 

However, the origins of contemporary unrest in the Arab-Muslim world are not confined to West Asia, which, in our definition, includes the Fertile Crescent and the Persian Gulf. Another significant event was the “Arab Spring” of 2011, which began with an incident in the heart of Tunisia in December 2010, and, aided by Western policies, led to the overthrow of President Hosni Mubarak in Egypt, chaos and fragmentation in Libya, the destabilization of the Sahel, a terrible civil war in Syria, and the rise of the “Islamic State,” with heavy intervention by Russia. These were tragedies for the populations of the region, including in its part located in sub-Saharan Africa, with serious consequences for Europe due to a massive increase in migration flows. These flows have raised significant domestic political problems in most EU countries and for the Union as a whole.

 

All of the above seems sufficient to justify my initial premise that the North Africa/West Asia region constitutes Europe’s southern flank, which should have long ago prompted the EU to develop ambitious security policies. In reality, the European states, individually or collectively, have abandoned any serious policy in the region. However, the southern flank appears to be at least as important for our security as the eastern flank.

 

October 7th and Its Regional Consequences

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict had all but disappeared from the screens of most generalists in international politics prior to October 7th, 2023. The question of difficult relations between Jews and Palestinians was already very sensitive in the nineteenth century. In terms of allocating the same land to two peoples who are equally attached to it for symbolic, rather than economic or practical, reasons, the issue even appears insoluble. The problem reached another dimension with the creation of the State of Israel, immediately giving way to the first Israeli-Arab war in 1948, which the Jews won, followed by a second (the Six-Day War) that they waged preventively, again successfully, in 1967. Finally, the Yom Kippur War in October 1973, which they almost lost at first, led the Americans to put their nuclear forces on alert against the Soviet Union.

 

In the decades that followed, the first intifada lasted six years until 1993 and ended with the Oslo Accords, which provided for the coexistence of the two states. However, these accords were not implemented. A second intifada lasted from the end of 2000 to the beginning of 2005, without fundamentally changing the situation. Since 2009, Benjamin Netanyahu has almost constantly ruled Israel as its Prime Minister, consistently leading the Likud policy, particularly in the occupied territories in the West Bank, amid a growing indifference from the outside—including from Arab countries too preoccupied by their own instability and the inconsistencies of their Western partners’ policies.

 

In Saudi Arabia, King Salman made the major decision in 2017 to designate his son Mohammed, then aged 32, as crown prince of the Kingdom, marking a generational leap. Mohammed bin Salman had a difficult start, but the old monarch, known in his good years for his intelligence and wisdom, may well have won his bet: to allow the kingdom, whose vast majority of the population is very young, to enter modernity and find its place in a world undergoing profound transformation, with new balances of power. This world is much more complex than during the Cold War.

 

From then on, there was no longer any question of placing too much emphasis on the Israeli-Palestinian problem; it was sufficient to recall from time to time that the solution could only be the creation of a Palestinian state, even if the West had eventually put it on the back burner. Saudi Arabia did not follow the Abraham Accords between Israel and the United Arab Emirates on one hand, and Israel and Bahrain on the other, agreements subsequently extended to Sudan, Morocco, and Bhutan. All of these involved the United States. However, the kingdom did not close the door, suggesting that everything would depend on establishing an effective process for the creation of a Palestinian state. In the meantime, the Arab governments took the risk of allowing the Islamic Republic of Iran to monopolize the defense of the Palestinian cause, formulated in its most extreme form as the destruction of the Jewish state. The reasoning of the Arab regimes that chose modernity was that success would necessarily require, sooner or later, a normalization with Israel. A modernity that would inherently imply the eradication of Islamist terrorism and would therefore also necessitate courageous choices, including in the domestic policies of both sides.

 

For its part, Tehran has so far adhered to the opposite choice, clinging to an anachronistic vision of the world. By supporting Hezbollah or the Houthis, it is not about ensuring the security of its flanks but rather extending its power in the most outdated sense of the term, with the hope of perpetuating regimes incapable of adapting to the transformation of the world, much like the Soviet regime in its terminal phase. It is also worth noting that Iran and Saudi Arabia are not necessarily condemned to fight, as demonstrated by the agreement on the resumption of diplomatic relations, signed under China’s auspices on March 10th, 2023.

 

Beyond October 7th?

This is the context in which the explosion of October 7th, 2023, occurred. For this act of unprecedented violence, Hamas, which completely controlled the Gaza Strip, chose the 50th anniversary of the Yom Kippur War. With the benefit of a year of hindsight, it is first necessary to note that the terrorist organization has achieved its strategic objective. This was to awaken not just the Palestinians themselves but at least the segments of opinion worldwide that, for more or less hidden reasons, could be sensitive to their cause.

 

The raid of October 7th, initially surprised observers by the level of preparation it required and, even more, by its success against defenses that were believed to be invincible. When that day comes, the Israelis will demand accountability from their leaders. This raid stunned the nation with the number of victims and hostages it caused in a state that places a very high value on the life of each of its citizens. Although divided by their Prime Minister and some of his decisions, the Israelis united to support the long-term war immediately declared against Hamas. The strategy was to raze the Gaza Strip—this great metropolis—representing the most terrible form of urban warfare. To what extent did the Hamas leaders anticipate this reaction and accept, in advance, the sacrifice of their population? In any case, the forms of this merciless war, which echo the harshest passages of the Hebrew Bible, are provoking large-scale reactions worldwide and are leading to worrying manifestations of anti-Semitism in Europe and the United States.

 

Thus far, the efforts of the United States and the “international community” to slow down Netanyahu have been in vain. On another level, it should be noted that there is no evidence that Iran was behind the October 7th attack or that it has any interest in igniting southern Lebanon. Regarding the reactions of the Arab states, they have been striking in their moderation. Their main concern has been the behavior of their public opinions, which, fortunately, have not become inflamed. Not only have the Abraham Accords not been called into question, but Saudi Arabia has also stated that it is ready to normalize its relations with Israel, provided that a serious process leading to the creation of a Palestinian state is initiated. Finally, we should highlight Russia’s moderation, which maintains balanced relations with all major players in a region partly attached to its own southern flank and has no interest in chaos taking hold in the Middle East.

 

It is still too early to foresee the end of this new eruption in the Middle East. Despite the the continuing horrors, we can think that the worst has been avoided. For now, the Israeli population is obviously not in a state to debate the two-state solution, which harkens back to the memory of Oslo in 1993 and the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. However, this project has now been unearthed and will be discussed for a long time to come. This war will have changed everything. When the time for diplomacy comes, Israel will need to prepare itself for difficult decisions, ultimately with the prospect of achieving a real peace.

 

The EU: A Lasting Political Unit?

In my book Action and the World System, I develop the notion of active unity, defined as any human group inserted in history, structured by a common culture and organization. Culture cements the unity of the group (I refer to Renan’s idea of the nation), and the organization allows it to maintain itself by adapting to the internal and external circumstances that impact it over time. The more homogeneous the culture and the more consistent the organization with it, the greater the adaptability.

 

I call a political unit any active entity that considers itself sovereign; that is, it does not admit any authority superior to its own, which is formally but not always the case for states, defined in law by a territory, a population, and a government. The government—or the system of governments in the case of a federal state, for example—must be able to exercise its authority over the entirety of its territory, which is not always the case, admittedly to varying degrees. I previously cited the example of the DRC among many others. There are also political units that are not states: this includes terrorist organizations such as Al-Qaeda and self-proclaimed “states” like the Islamic State, which are not recognized.

 

Here, I question certain aspects of the future of the EU as a political unit in the process of being formed, even as it has still not finished digesting the great enlargement that followed the fall of the Soviet Union, and while, even before the end of the war, it has committed itself to enlarging again to include Ukraine and the countries of Southeastern Europe. On a formal level, the EU certainly constitutes an active unit. The group consists of the populations of the member states; culture comprises the set of values more or less clearly defined by the treaties; and the organization results from these treaties. However, the member states are only committed to the whole to the extent of what they have signed. This means that overall, the states are superior to the Union. They alone are sovereign, and they retain the possibility of withdrawing from the EU, as only the UK has done so far. Thus, the question of sovereignty is settled, regardless of the answer given to the controversial legal question of the hierarchy of norms of a different nature.

 

The reader may wonder what the point of these seemingly abstract considerations is. Some observers, although convinced of the need for a form of EU to exist so that European states do not disappear from history, are worried about a headlong rush into an enlargement process that could be compared to a mechanical structure unwittingly made to bear ever-increasing loads until it becomes deformed or collapses. We can also use Sylvie Goulard’s metaphor of obesity. The question is not to set a priori limits to European construction. Enlargement must not be an all-or-nothing proposition. For the structure as a whole, each step must be assured before we move on to the next one.

 

To move forward, I will rely on an essay published in 2000, one chapter of which—written in the context of the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact—was devoted to the EU. With the benefit of hindsight, I wrote at the time that we can distinguish six major ideas that inspired the enterprise, and whose implementation is necessary to perpetuate it: reconciliation, democracy, market economy, security, solidarity, and identity. The implementation of the first three—by no means self-evident in countries with only a superficial experience of democracy—is certainly a necessary condition for EU membership, but it does not guarantee it. The Helvetic Republic obviously comes to mind. These issues are already complex, but even more so is the question of security. The current governance of the EU does not prohibit ad hoc cooperation in areas related to defense but does not presuppose it. In other words, the geometry of European cooperation in this area has no reason to go through the Commission, even if it might be preferable for the stakeholders to become, at least in the long term, members of the Union. I reproduce below a few lines from my 2000 book:

 

“When the time comes, the success of the European project will involve the dissolution of the Atlantic Pact and its replacement by a new alliance, still very close but also more balanced, between the United States and the EU as such—an alliance that other non-EU states could naturally join. Most of the member countries of the current alliance are certainly not ready to consider such a considerable change in the immediate future. But we could perhaps start to think about it since it is a major identity objective, and the drafting of a European fundamental law would provide the opportunity. A more independent Europe could play a moderating and therefore balancing role in solving the global problems likely to agitate Asia and the Middle East in the twenty-first century. It would be risky to leave the United States indefinitely as the only significant Western actor vis-à-vis the rest of the world.”

 

This text is almost a quarter of a century old. To give it substance, it would have required a shared willingness of a group of EU member states to clearly define the interests that needed to be defended, primarily referring to the notion of the flanks I discussed in the previous sections. As a theater of operations, the flanks are also interdependent. This is clearly evident at present when, due to the massive deterioration in Franco-Russian relations, Russia is working to harm our interests wherever it can—and this will continue. Similarly, Azerbaijan’s interference in New Caledonia can be explained as a punishment for France’s positions favorable to Armenia. In any case, we are now very far from my earlier suggestions, especially since, with the post-Soviet enlargement of the Union and the war in Ukraine, the viewpoints of the former Warsaw Pact countries have become dominant. This includes both the desire to definitively settle the question of Russian imperialism (as seen in Poland and the Baltic States) and, conversely, the open advocacy for a new association with Russia (as expressed by Hungary). The choice of Estonia’s former Prime Minister Kaja Kallas to succeed Josep Borrell as Vice President and High Representative of the EU for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy is very revealing in this regard.

 

As almost always in history, when there is no leader with a long view capable of acting over time, circumstances decide randomly. While waiting for fate to be kind, those interested in security and defense issues who express themselves in the public arena bear the responsibility for their speeches. This is particularly true on subjects as sensitive as nuclear deterrence, and should not lead a wider audience to believe that we want or can engage lightly in these areas.

 

Does Helping mean Integrating?

The next topic is solidarity. On neighborhood issues, solidarity is more a political than a moral issue. In To Fight Single Ideas (2000), I noted:

 

“For example, helping a poor neighbor is, for a rich state, a way of reducing the risks of unwanted immigration or terrorist actions. The case of the EU is original, insofar as its neighbors are all tempted to join it. The question is then to compare the costs and advantages associated, on different time scales, with external cooperation on the one hand and accession on the other. For example, whether they stay outside for ten or twenty years or join earlier, Romania and Bulgaria will, in any case, be the subject of specific aid policies from the Union, in the interest of all. In cases of this kind, one can think that it is only a question of timing. Concerning Ukraine or Russia, the choices are potentially clearer. Turkey finds itself in an intermediate situation now that its right to candidacy is officially recognized.”

 

The question of choosing between the internal and external approach is very general. Western Europeans paid a high price for the upgrading of the former Warsaw Pact countries, and it is possible that their effort could compare favorably with the Marshall Plan they received after World War II. They were right. But they could have done just as well while taking more time to integrate them. I also quoted these lines because of the allusion to Ukraine, Russia, and Turkey. At the end of the twentieth century, the question of Ukraine’s possible membership was already being raised—indeed, as early as 1990. Some even went so far as to ask about Russia! As for Turkey, it is noteworthy that as early as 1963, the six founding members of the Community had recognized by treaty its right to apply when the time came. Pacta sunt servanda: like individuals, states must be careful about what they sign, as they are always caught up by time.

 

In the current context, I am convinced that NATO should and still must support Ukraine to prevent an imbalance of power, but, to speak like Kissinger, within the framework of a balance of interests. On the other hand, I consider a premature commitment to Ukraine’s accession to the EU to be a mistake. For many reasons, including the war in Ukraine itself, the competitiveness of the EU as a whole continues to decline, particularly in relation to the United States, and the efficiency of the EU’s machinery remains problematic. In a country like France, the European elections of June 9th, 2024, were decided on everything except the future of Europe, and this issue played no role in the national elections that followed.

 

We need to cooperate with the Ukraine of today and tomorrow and with the states of Southeastern Europe. But to preserve the chances of a strong Europe, let us first take a break and audit the state of the Union to make it more effective and therefore more legitimate.

I will conclude with a final excerpt from To Fight Single Ideas:

 

“The increasing density of the links woven, the multiplication of tangible signs such as the flag, the passport, and soon banknotes, make conceivable the crystallization of a community feeling during the next century, which would finally give substance to the old European dream. Only then would the thousand-year-old existence of a ‘European culture’ take on its full meaning and deploy all its possibilities. There are still, obviously, many obstacles to overcome, particularly to resolve institutional problems of great complexity. But it is precisely by overcoming them that this ‘legacy of memory,’ to which Renan rightly attached so much value, will gradually be forged. The glory of the European adventure is, precisely, to re-establish the common future on an accumulation of actions and victories whose nature is essentially peaceful, unlike all the previous history of the continent. Already, interference has become natural within the Union: our affairs are closely intertwined, and we move forward, our eyes fixed on each other. We saw this with the entry of Haider’s party into the Austrian government. This interference extends to the countries that, sooner or later, are destined to join us. The future of Kosovo interests us more than that of Chechnya, because we assume that one day, albeit in the distant future, the Union will welcome the former Yugoslavia. This perspective gives true meaning to the efforts undertaken to calm things down there. Without European hope, the ‘decommunization’ of Eastern Europe could have been even more painful. European hope prevented, for example, the question of the Hungarian minorities from turning into a catastrophe. If the European adventure continues favorably, we will therefore see the emergence of an original type of political unit, adapted to the realities of the new scientific and technological era. There will probably not be a ‘European State’ in the classical sense, but a coherent system will be established to ensure the compatibility and effectiveness of the three basic functions of a state: executive, legislative, and judicial. This will be a step toward future global governance, a sort of reduced model on the scale of a continent. It is regrettable that with the Treaties of Maastricht and Amsterdam, the word ‘Community’ was replaced by the more hackneyed word ‘Union.’ At least in its sociological meaning, the word ‘community’ suggests the establishment of emotional ties (the ‘European citizens’ recognized in the Treaty), and no longer just organic ties between the members. However, the EU will only consolidate itself as a major entity in the international politics of the coming century if Europeans feel increasingly emotionally committed to the success of an adventure whose failure, on the contrary, would be a real tragedy for all of humanity.”

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