There are two well-established ideas in trade. Individually, they are correct. Combined, they can lead to a conclusion that is unfortunately wrong.

The first idea is that, across a range of economic sectors, the EU and the US have been engaged in a battle to have their model of regulation accepted as the global one, and that the EU is generally winning.

The second is that governments can use their regulatory power to extend strategic and foreign policy influence.

The conclusion would seem to be that the EU, which has for decades tried to develop a foreign policy, should be able to use its superpower status in regulation and trade to project its interests and its values abroad.

That’s the theory. It’s a proposition much welcomed by EU policymakers, who know they are highly unlikely any time soon to acquire any of the tools usually required to run an effective foreign policy.

The EU doesn’t have an army it can send into a shooting war, enough military or political aid to prop up or dispense of governments abroad, or a centralized intelligence service. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen has declared her outfit to be a ‘geopolitical commission’, and is casting about for any means of making that real.

Through the ‘Brussels effect’ whereby European rules and standards are exported via both companies and governments, the EU has indeed won many regulatory battles with the US.

Its cars, chemicals and product safety regulations are more widely adopted round the world than their American counterparts. In the absence of any coherent US offering, bar some varied state-level systems, the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) is the closest thing the world has to a single model for data privacy, and variants of it are being adopted by dozens of countries.

The problem is this. Those parts of global economic governance where the US is dominant – particularly the dollar payments system – are highly conducive to projecting US power abroad. The extraterritorial reach of secondary sanctions, plus the widespread reliance of banks and companies worldwide on dollar funding – and hence the American financial system – means that the US can precisely target its influence.

The EU can enforce trade sanctions, but not in such a powerful and discriminatory way, and it will always be outgunned by the US. Donald Trump could in effect force European companies to join in his sanctions on Iran when he pulled out of the nuclear deal, despite EU legislation designed to prevent their businesses being bullied. He can go after the chief financial officer of Huawei for allegedly breaching those sanctions.

By contrast, the widespread adoption of GDPR or data protection regimes inspired by it may give the EU a warm glow of satisfaction, but it cannot be turned into a geopolitical tool in the same way.

Nor, necessarily, does it particularly benefit the EU economy. Europe’s undersized tech sector seems unlikely to unduly benefit from the fact that data protection rules were written in the EU. Indeed, one common criticism of the regulations is that they entrench the power of incumbent tech giants like Google.

There is a similar pattern at work in the adoption of new technologies such as artificial intelligence and the Internet of Things. In that field, the EU and its member states are also facing determined competition from China, which has been pushing its technologies and standards through forums such as the International Telecommunication Union.

The EU has been attempting to write international rules for the use of AI which it hopes to be widely adopted. But again, these are a constraint on the use of new technologies largely developed by others, not the control of innovation.

By contrast, China has created a vast domestic market in technologies like facial recognition and unleashed its own companies on it. The resulting surveillance kit can then be marketed to emerging market governments as part of China’s enduring foreign policy campaign to build up supporters in the developing world.

If it genuinely wants to turn its economic power into geopolitical influence – and it’s not entirely clear what it would do with it if it did – the EU needs to recognize that not all forms of regulatory and trading dominance are the same.

Providing public goods to the world economy is all very well. But unless they are so particular in nature that they project uniquely European values and interests, that makes the EU a supplier of useful plumbing but not a global architect of power.

On the other hand, it could content itself with its position for the moment. It could recognize that not until enough hard power – guns, intelligence, money – is transferred from the member states to the centre, or until the member states start acting collectively, will the EU genuinely become a geopolitical force. Speaking loudly and carrying a stick of foam rubber is rarely a way to gain credibility in international relations.

This article is part of a series of publications and roundtable discussions in the Chatham House Global Trade Policy Forum.

Historically, Iraq lay claim to one of the most abundant water supplies in the Middle East. But the flow of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers has reduced by up to 40% since the 1970s, due in part to the actions of neighbouring countries, in particular Turkey, upstream.

Rising temperatures and reduced rainfall due to climate change are also negatively impacting Iraq’s water reserves. Evaporation from dams and reservoirs is estimated to lose the country up to 8 billion cubic metres of water every year.

A threat to peace and stability

Shortages have dried up previously fertile land, increasing poverty in agricultural areas. Shortages have also served to fuel conflict: communities faced with successive droughts and government inertia proved to be easy targets for ISIS recruiters, who lured farmers into joining them by offering money and food to feed their families. Economic hardship for those whose livelihoods relied upon river water has also driven rural to urban migration, putting significant strain on already over-populated towns and cities, exacerbating housing, job and electricity shortages, and widening the gap between haves and have-nots.

But scarcity isn’t the most crucial element of Iraq’s water crisis – contamination is. Decades of local government mismanagement, corrupt practices and a lack of regulation of dumping (it is estimated up to 70% of Iraq’s industrial waste is dumped directly into water) has left approximately three in every five citizens without a reliable source of potable water.

In 2018, 118,000 residents of Basra province were hospitalised with symptoms brought on by drinking contaminated water, which not only put a spotlight on the inadequacies of a crumbling healthcare system but sparked mass protests and a subsequent violent crackdown.

The water crisis is also undermining the stability of the country’s federal governance model, by occasionally sparking disputes between Baghdad and the Kurdistan Regional Government, as well as between governorates in the south.

The crisis is both a symptom and a cause of poor governance. Iraq is stuck in a cycle whereby government inaction causes shortages and contamination, which result in economic losses, reduced food supply, increased prices and widespread poor health. This in turn leads to increasing levels of poverty, higher demand on services and civil unrest, increasing the pressure on a weak, dysfunctional system of government.

What can be done?

The first priority should be modernising existing water-management infrastructure - a relic of a time when the problem was an excess rather than a shortage of water (the last time Iraq’s flood defences were required was 1968). Bureaucratic hurdles, widespread corruption and an endless cycle of other crises taking precedent prevent good initiatives from being implemented or scaled up.

Diversifying energy sources to improve provision is crucial. Baghdad has a sewage treatment plant that originally ran on its own electricity source, but this capacity was destroyed in 1991 and was never replaced. The city continues to suffer from dangerous levels of water pollution because the electricity supply from the grid is insufficient to power the plant. Solar energy has great potential in sun-drenched Iraq to bridge the gaping hole in energy provision, but successive governments have chosen to focus on fossil fuels rather than promoting investment to grow the renewables sector.

Heightened tension with upstream Turkey could turn water into another cause of regional conflict. But, if approached differently, collaboration between Iraq and its neighbour could foster regional harmony.

Turkey’s elevated geography and cooler climate mean its water reserves suffer 75% less evaporation than Iraq’s. Given that Turkey’s top energy priority is the diversification of its supply of imported hydrocarbons, a win-win deal could see Turkey exchange access to its water-management infrastructure for delivery of reduced cost energy supplies from Iraq.

German-French cooperation on coal and steel in the 1950s and the evolution of economic integration that followed might provide a model for how bilateral cooperation over one issue could result in cooperation with other regional players (in this case Iran and Syria) on a range of other issues. This kind of model would need to consider the future of energy, whereby oil and gas would be replaced by solar-power exports.

These solutions have been open to policymakers for years and yet they have taken little tangible action. While there are leaders and bureaucrats with the will to act, effective action is invariably blocked by a complex and opaque political system replete with vested interests in maintaining power and wealth via a weak state and limited services from central government.

Breaking the cycle

To break this cycle, Iraq needs a group of professional and able actors outside of government to work with willing elements of the state bureaucracy as a taskforce to pressure for action and accountability. Publishing the recommendations from a hitherto withheld report produced in the aftermath of Basra’s 2018 heath crisis would be a great start.

In time, this taskforce could champion the prioritisation of water on the national agenda, the implementation of infrastructure upgrades, and hold more productive conversations with neighbour states.

With such a high degree of state fragmentation and dysfunction in Iraq, looking to the central government to provide leadership will not yield results. Engagement with a coalition of non-state actors can begin to address the water crisis and also open a dialogue around new models of governance for other critical issues. This might even be a starting point for rewriting the tattered social contract in Iraq.

This piece is based on insights and discussion at a roundtable event, Conflict and the Water Crisis in Iraq, held at Chatham House on March 9 as part of the Iraq Initiative.

During a decade-long commodities boom, new or emerging producers of oil, gas or mineral resources registered some of the fastest rates of economic growth in the world. Development banks, governments giving foreign aid, extractives companies and major consultancies broadly agreed that ‘extractives-led growth’ is a viable path to socio-economic development for poor countries. 
               
Following over a year of decline in global commodities prices and as efforts to tackle climate change mount, a new paper re-examines the 'curse of natural resources'. It finds that a policy of extractives-led growth entails serious risks. As governments of countries as diverse as Afghanistan, Mauritania, Somalia, Liberia and Cuba prepare to follow an extractives-led growth path, both the advice being handed to them and the growth model itself require a fundamental rethink.

The Resource Curse Revisited argues that:

• The steep decline in the oil price in the second half of 2014 demolished the main assumption of the extractives-led growth agenda. The assumption that prices of raw materials would continue to increase as global demand grew and well-established sources were exhausted has actually led several low- to middle-income producers such as Ghana into unmanageable debt. At the very least, the current price context  puts new producers at a serious disadvantage, as the focus on cost-cutting has made investors reluctant to accept the risks of developing projects in countries with little infrastructure or capacity to support them.

• Good governance initiatives are not the antidote to the resource curse. There has often been a mismatch in terms of policy advice given (for example on transparency and revenue management) and the capacity of a country to implement it. Furthermore, basing economic growth on the extraction of below-ground resources will create strong pressures towards poor governance. In the absence of strong institutions, this path leads to the enrichment of minority elite groups, whose interest in capturing rents is likely to become a barrier to improving governance.

• Both governments with extractives potential and those advising them give too little consideration to the size and nature of the resource base. If extractives-led growth is to be sustained, resource extraction must persist long enough for new economic sectors to emerge and generate revenues that can support government spending and import needs as income from extractives declines.

• The extractives-led growth model, in its current form, is at odds with green growth strategies. The advice from international agencies and initiatives to countries with extractive resources offers no suggestions on how governments should manage the risk of stranded assets or how they can reconcile extractives-led growth with national sustainable-development goals.

The report concludes that the extractives-led growth agenda has tended to reinforce domestic, government and investor pressures to ‘develop fast’. However, this can threaten long-term opportunities for robust economic diversification. In many cases, there is a strong case for slowing development of extractives projects to allow time to develop the capacity of the government and the private sector to maximize the linkages with the rest of the economy.

Avoiding the resource curse needs not only good governance but also an economic policy that provides for the transition of an economy over time in accordance with its competitive advantages. This report recommends that countries considering extractives development, and their would-be advisors, take into account a wider set of issues at the outset including the likely value of the asset to the economy over time, the options for slow or indeed no development of extractives, and how the rest of the economy would lessen reliance on support from the extractives sector over time.

With Britain’s decision to leave the EU, the clouds of uncertainty hanging over the proposed US-EU free trade deal (known as the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership or TTIP) have become darker. The negotiations were formally launched three years ago and have stalled because of transatlantic differences (for instance over issues of investor protections and public procurement) as well as growing public opposition. For now, both the US and the EU negotiators are determined to weather the storm and continue talks when they meet in Brussels from 11-15 July.

The result of the UK’s EU referendum will blow a strong wind into the face of TTIP negotiators on three fronts. First, the Brexit vote will delay the TTIP talks as EU officials will focus their attention and political capital on the future UK-EU relationship. Once the UK government triggers Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty, both sides have two years to sort out the separation proceedings. Only after it has become clear what Britain’s relationship with the EU will look like will the European side stop navel-gazing. The TTIP negotiations will likely continue in the meantime, but will be put on the back-burner.

Second, any progress on TTIP will require clarity on what both sides are bringing to the negotiating table. But until the final nature of the UK-EU relationship is known, it will be difficult for the American side to assess exactly how valuable the access to the remaining EU market is. This raises the question of whether American negotiators will put forth their best offers if they don’t know what benefits they will obtain for making concessions.

Third, with Britain’s vote to leave the EU, TTIP has just lost one of its greatest cheerleaders. French and German officials are increasingly expressing concerns about TTIP. Within three days of the Brexit vote, French Prime Minister Manuel Valls dismissed the possibility of a US-EU trade deal, stating TTIP was against ‘EU interests’. In addition, 59 per cent of Germans oppose TTIP – up from 51 per cent – according to the most recent Eurobarometer survey. Britain’s voice for further trade liberalization will be sorely missed by American negotiators eager to strike a deal.

Despite the dark Brexit clouds on the TTIP horizon, there might be a silver lining. Britain’s decision to leave the EU could bring some benefits to the US-EU trade talks in two ways. First, financial services regulation might no longer be a sticking point in the TTIP negotiations. Given London’s role as a financial centre, the UK had insisted on including a financial services chapter in the trade deal. The US, however, has resisted this. The removal of this friction could help move the TTIP negotiations along.

Second, European trade negotiators will no longer have to address British fears that TTIP could put the National Health Service (NHS) at risk. Much of the TTIP-debate in Great Britain has focused on how this deal might impact the NHS. Opponents of TTIP have argued that including healthcare in the agreement could lead to privatization and ultimately the death of the NHS. EU Trade Commissioner Cecilia Malmström spent resources and energy in correcting these misconceptions. UK withdrawal from the EU means that she can now focus on fighting other myths surrounding TTIP, which could potentially help advance the trade deal.

For now and the immediate future, Britain will remain a member of the EU and the European Commission will continue to negotiate trade deals on behalf of all 28 member states. Both the US and EU negotiators are committed to advancing the trade deal despite Brexit. The British decision to leave the EU has not weakened the case for TTIP. Speaking on the outcome of the EU referendum, United States Trade Representative Michael Froman said ‘the economic and strategic rationale for TTIP remains strong’. And his counterpart Cecilia Malmström went even further, saying that the British decision to leave the EU creates more of an impetus for TTIP to be finished this year.

Though this timeline is unlikely to be met, TTIP is likely to survive the British decision to leave the EU. However, Brexit is a serious blow that will probably push back the conclusion of TTIP by at least two years. Any deal will need to take into account the future nature of the UK-EU trade deal, which may not be known before 2018. Meanwhile, elections in Germany and France (two countries with strong public opposition to TTIP) will take place in 2017. On the other side of the Atlantic, the US presidential election adds yet another layer of uncertainty as the trade policy of the next administration remains unknown. When US and EU trade negotiators meet again this week, they should not be too worried about the Brexit storm but rather the changing climate for TTIP in France, Germany and the US.

To comment on this article, please contact Chatham House Feedback

The leaked record of the five meetings of the UK–US Trade & Investment Working Group held in 2017–18 has led to a controversy in the UK election campaign around the claim that ‘the NHS is up for sale’.

But a careful reading of the leaked documents reveals how remarkably little concerns the NHS – in five meetings over 16 months, the NHS is mentioned just four times. The patent regime and how it affects medicines is discussed in more depth but largely in terms of the participants trying to understand each other’s systems and perspectives. For the most part, the discussions were overwhelmingly about everything else a trade deal would cover other than healthcare – matters such as subsidies, rules of origin and customs facilitation.

But this does not mean there will be no impact on Britain’s health service. There are three main concerns about the possible implications of a US–UK trade deal after Brexit – a negotiation that will of course only take place if the UK remains outside the EU customs union and single market and also does not reach a trade agreement with the EU that proves incompatible with US negotiating objectives.

One concern is that the US aim of securing ‘full market access for US products’, expressed in the US negotiating objectives, will affect the ability of NICE (The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence) to prevent the NHS from procuring products that are deemed too expensive in relation to their benefits. It could also affect the ability of the NHS to negotiate with companies to secure price reductions as, for instance, happened recently with Orkambi, a cystic fibrosis drug.

A peculiarity of the main US government healthcare programme (Medicare) is that it has historically not negotiated drug prices, although there are several bills now before Congress aiming to change that. US refusal to negotiate or control prices is one reason that US drug prices are the highest in the world.  

A second concern is that the US objective of securing ‘intellectual property rights that reflect a standard of protection similar to that found in US law’ will result in longer patent terms and other forms of exclusivity that will increase the prices the NHS will have to pay for drugs.

However, it is not immediately apparent that UK standards are significantly different from those in the US – the institutional arrangements differ but the levels of protection offered are broadly comparable. Recent publicity about a potential extra NHS medicine bill of £27 billion resulting from a trade deal is based on the NHS having to pay US prices on all drugs – which seems an unlikely outcome unless the UK contingent are extraordinarily bad negotiators.

Nevertheless, in an analysis section (marked for internal distribution only), the UK lead negotiator noted: ‘The impact of some patent issues raised on NHS access to generic drugs (i.e. cheaper drugs) will be a key consideration going forward.’

A third concern is that the US objective of providing ‘fair and open conditions for services trade’ and other US negotiating objectives will oblige the UK to open up the NHS to American healthcare companies.

This is where it gets complicated. At one point in a discussion on state-owned enterprises (SOEs) the US asked if the UK had concerns about their ‘health insurance system’ (presumably a reference to the NHS). The UK response was that it ‘wouldn’t want to discuss particular health care entities at this time, you’ll be aware of certain statements saying we need to protect our needs; this would be something to discuss further down the line…’

On this exchange the UK lead negotiator commented:  ‘We do not currently believe the US has a major offensive interest in this space – not through the SOE chapter at least. Our response dealt with this for now, but we will need to be able to go into more detail about the functioning of the NHS and our views on whether or not it is engaged in commercial activities…’

On the face of it, these documents provide no basis for saying the NHS would be for sale – whatever that means exactly. The talks were simply an exploratory investigation between officials on both sides in advance of possible negotiations.

But it is a fact that US positions in free trade agreements are heavily influenced by corporate interests. Their participation in framing agreements is institutionalized in the US system and the pharmaceutical and healthcare industries in the US spend, by a large margin, more on lobbying the government than any other sector does. Moreover, President Donald Trump has long complained about ‘the global freeloading that forces American consumers to subsidize lower prices in foreign countries through higher prices in our country’.

It is when (and if) the actual negotiations on a trade deal get under way that the real test will come as the political profile and temperature is raised on both sides of the Atlantic.

When it comes to emerging infectious diseases – those newly recognized in humans or in new locations – it is not only what we know that matters but also what we do not know.

An outbreak of a new coronavirus first reported in Wuhan, China, which has so far led to more than 500 confirmed cases and multiple deaths across five countries (and two continents) has prompted the question from several corners of the world: Should we be worried?

Although expert teams coordinated by the World Health Organization (WHO) are working on key questions to get answers as soon as possible, the level of uncertainty is still high.

We do not yet know exactly how deadly the disease is, how best to treat those who get sick, precisely how it is spreading, nor how stable the virus is. It is thought that the virus spread from an animal source, but the exact source is yet to be confirmed and the disease is now in human populations and appears to be spreading from human to human.

It is such uncertainty, inherent in emerging infectious disease outbreaks, that warrants concern. Until they are resolved, it is appropriate for the world to be concerned. It is useful to remember that most established scourges of humanity such as HIV, influenza and tuberculosis likely started as emerging infectious diseases that jumped the species barrier from animals to humans.

Shortly after the Chinese authorities reported the first cases of ‘mystery pneumonia’ in Wuhan, China, to WHO, the virus causing the disease was isolated and identified as being part of the coronavirus family. It belongs to the same virus family as SARS, a highly contagious and life-threatening coronavirus that caused a nine-month epidemic in 2003 that affected 26 countries and resulted in more than 8,000 infections and nearly 800 deaths.

A second novel coronavirus that emerged in 2012 and persists today – MERS, or Middle East Respiratory Syndrome – is less contagious (spread by close contact rather than coughing and sneezing).

The differences between the SARS coronavirus and the MERS coronavirus highlight that, despite belonging to the same virus family, pathogens do not necessarily behave in the same way. It is as yet unknown whether the new virus is, or will turn out to be, more like SARS or MERS, or neither. 

Chinese authorities have confirmed that there is human-to-human transmission. However, it is not yet established whether it is sustained, which would make the outbreak more difficult to control. As of 23 January, the number of cases range from 500 confirmed cases up to an estimated 1,700 cases, according to a disease outbreak model by Imperial College London.

Likewise, we do not know to what extent the virus is able to mutate and if so, how rapidly. Generally, coronaviruses are known to be able to mutate, with the risk that a less contagious form of the virus becomes highly contagious. This could have an impact not only on the transmission pattern and rate but also the death rate. The virus could change in either direction, to become either more or less of a threat.

It is important to take a precautionary approach while uncertainty persists. It is also important not to overreact and for measures to be scientifically sound. Concern over this outbreak is due, but panic is not.

Three virtual networks of experts supporting the response – one of virologists, one of epidemiologists and one of clinicians – are working on the key pieces of the jigsaw puzzle: watching the virus, watching the transmission patterns, and watching the people who have been infected. It is crucial to maintain the ongoing investigation of the disease, stay focused on the science and to keep sharing the necessary information.

A controversial debate during COVID-19 is the state of readiness within governments and health systems for a pandemic, with lines of the debate drawn on the issues of testing provision, personal protective equipment (PPE), and the speed of decision-making.

President Macron in a speech to the nation admitted French medical workers did not have enough PPE and that mistakes had been made: ‘Were we prepared for this crisis? We have to say that no, we weren’t, but we have to admit our errors … and we will learn from this’.

In reality few governments were fully prepared. In years to come, all will ask: ‘how could we have been better prepared, what did we do wrong, and what can we learn?’. But after every crisis, governments ask these same questions.

Most countries have put in place national risk assessments and established processes and systems to monitor and stress-test crisis-preparedness. So why have some countries been seemingly better prepared?

Comparing different approaches

Some have had more time and been able to watch the spread of the disease and learn from those countries that had it first. Others have taken their own routes, and there will be much to learn from comparing these different approaches in the longer run.

Governments in Asia have been strongly influenced by the experience of the SARS epidemic in 2002-3 and - South Korea in particular - the MERS-CoV outbreak in 2015 which was the largest outside the Middle East. Several carried out preparatory work in terms of risk assessment, preparedness measures and resilience planning for a wide range of threats.

And, at the international level, there are frameworks for preparedness for pandemics. The International Health Regulations (IHR) - adopted at the 2005 World Health Assembly and binding on member states - require countries to report certain disease outbreaks and public health events to the World Health Organization (WHO) and ‘prevent, protect against, control and provide a public health response to the international spread of disease in ways that are commensurate with and restricted to public health risks, and which avoid unnecessary interference with international traffic and trade’.

Under IHR, governments committed to a programme of building core capacities including coordination, surveillance, response and preparedness. The UN Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk highlights disaster preparedness for effective response as one of its main purposes and has already incorporated these measures into the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and other Agenda 2030 initiatives. UN Secretary-General António Guterres has said COVID-19 ‘poses a significant threat to the maintenance of international peace and security’ and that ‘a signal of unity and resolve from the Council would count for a lot at this anxious time’.

This pandemic looks set to continue to be a grave threat to humanity. But there will also be future pandemics – whether another type of coronavirus or a new influenza virus – and our species will be threatened again, we just don’t know when.

Other disasters too will befall us – we already see the impacts of climate change arriving on our doorsteps characterised by increased numbers and intensity of floods, hurricanes, fires, crop failure and other manifestations of a warming, increasingly turbulent atmosphere and we will continue to suffer major volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and tsunamis. All high impact, unknown probability events.

Preparedness for an unknown future is expensive and requires a great deal of effort for events that may not happen within the preparers’ lifetimes. It is hard to imagine now, but people will forget this crisis, and revert to their imagined projections of the future where crises don’t occur, and progress follows progress. But history shows us otherwise.

Preparations for future crises always fall prey to financial cuts and austerity measures in lean times unless there is a mechanism to prevent that. Cost-benefit analyses will understandably tend to prioritise the urgent over the long-term. So governments should put in place legislation – or strengthen existing legislation – now to ensure their countries are as prepared as possible for whatever crisis is coming.

Such a legal requirement would require governments to report back to parliament every year on the state of their national preparations detailing such measures as:

• The exact levels of stocks of essential materials (including medical equipment)
• The ability of hospitals to cope with large influx of patients
• How many drills, exercises and simulations had been organised – and their findings
• What was being done to implement lessons learned & improve preparedness

In addition, further actions should be taken:

• Parliamentary committees such as the UK Joint Committee on the National Security Strategy should scrutinise the government’s readiness for the potential threats outlined in the National Risk register for Civil Emergencies in-depth on an annual basis.
• Parliamentarians, including ministers, with responsibility for national security and resilience should participate in drills, table-top exercises and simulations to see for themselves the problems inherent with dealing with crises.
• All governments should have a minister (or equivalent) with the sole responsibility for national crisis preparedness and resilience. The Minister would be empowered to liaise internationally and coordinate local responses such as local resilience groups.
• There should be ring-fenced budget lines in annual budgets specifically for preparedness and resilience measures, annually reported on and assessed by parliaments as part of the due diligence process.

And at the international level:

• The UN Security Council should establish a Crisis Preparedness Committee to bolster the ability of United Nations Member States to respond to international crisis such as pandemics, within their borders and across regions. The Committee would function in a similar fashion as the Counter Terrorism Committee that was established following the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the United States.
• States should present reports on their level of preparedness to the UN Security Council. The Crisis Preparedness Committee could establish a group of experts who would conduct expert assessments of each member state’s risks and preparedness and facilitate technical assistance as required.
• Regional bodies such as the OSCE, ASEAN and ARF, the AU, the OAS, the PIF etc could also request national reports on crisis preparedness for discussion and cooperation at the regional level.

COVID-19 has been referred to as the 9/11 of crisis preparedness and response. Just as that shocking terrorist attack shifted the world and created a series of measures to address terrorism, we now recognise our security frameworks need far more emphasis on being prepared and being resilient. Whatever has been done in the past, it is clear that was nowhere near enough and that has to change.

There are two well-established ideas in trade. Individually, they are correct. Combined, they can lead to a conclusion that is unfortunately wrong.

The first idea is that, across a range of economic sectors, the EU and the US have been engaged in a battle to have their model of regulation accepted as the global one, and that the EU is generally winning.

The second is that governments can use their regulatory power to extend strategic and foreign policy influence.

The conclusion would seem to be that the EU, which has for decades tried to develop a foreign policy, should be able to use its superpower status in regulation and trade to project its interests and its values abroad.

That’s the theory. It’s a proposition much welcomed by EU policymakers, who know they are highly unlikely any time soon to acquire any of the tools usually required to run an effective foreign policy.

The EU doesn’t have an army it can send into a shooting war, enough military or political aid to prop up or dispense of governments abroad, or a centralized intelligence service. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen has declared her outfit to be a ‘geopolitical commission’, and is casting about for any means of making that real.

Through the ‘Brussels effect’ whereby European rules and standards are exported via both companies and governments, the EU has indeed won many regulatory battles with the US.

Its cars, chemicals and product safety regulations are more widely adopted round the world than their American counterparts. In the absence of any coherent US offering, bar some varied state-level systems, the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) is the closest thing the world has to a single model for data privacy, and variants of it are being adopted by dozens of countries.

The problem is this. Those parts of global economic governance where the US is dominant – particularly the dollar payments system – are highly conducive to projecting US power abroad. The extraterritorial reach of secondary sanctions, plus the widespread reliance of banks and companies worldwide on dollar funding – and hence the American financial system – means that the US can precisely target its influence.

The EU can enforce trade sanctions, but not in such a powerful and discriminatory way, and it will always be outgunned by the US. Donald Trump could in effect force European companies to join in his sanctions on Iran when he pulled out of the nuclear deal, despite EU legislation designed to prevent their businesses being bullied. He can go after the chief financial officer of Huawei for allegedly breaching those sanctions.

By contrast, the widespread adoption of GDPR or data protection regimes inspired by it may give the EU a warm glow of satisfaction, but it cannot be turned into a geopolitical tool in the same way.

Nor, necessarily, does it particularly benefit the EU economy. Europe’s undersized tech sector seems unlikely to unduly benefit from the fact that data protection rules were written in the EU. Indeed, one common criticism of the regulations is that they entrench the power of incumbent tech giants like Google.

There is a similar pattern at work in the adoption of new technologies such as artificial intelligence and the Internet of Things. In that field, the EU and its member states are also facing determined competition from China, which has been pushing its technologies and standards through forums such as the International Telecommunication Union.

The EU has been attempting to write international rules for the use of AI which it hopes to be widely adopted. But again, these are a constraint on the use of new technologies largely developed by others, not the control of innovation.

By contrast, China has created a vast domestic market in technologies like facial recognition and unleashed its own companies on it. The resulting surveillance kit can then be marketed to emerging market governments as part of China’s enduring foreign policy campaign to build up supporters in the developing world.

If it genuinely wants to turn its economic power into geopolitical influence – and it’s not entirely clear what it would do with it if it did – the EU needs to recognize that not all forms of regulatory and trading dominance are the same.

Providing public goods to the world economy is all very well. But unless they are so particular in nature that they project uniquely European values and interests, that makes the EU a supplier of useful plumbing but not a global architect of power.

On the other hand, it could content itself with its position for the moment. It could recognize that not until enough hard power – guns, intelligence, money – is transferred from the member states to the centre, or until the member states start acting collectively, will the EU genuinely become a geopolitical force. Speaking loudly and carrying a stick of foam rubber is rarely a way to gain credibility in international relations.

This article is part of a series of publications and roundtable discussions in the Chatham House Global Trade Policy Forum.

Perhaps it will be second time lucky. At the end of April, Germany’s Christian Democratic Union (CDU) will elect a new party leader to follow in the footsteps of Angela Merkel. An emergency party congress has been summoned to do that after the surprise resignation of Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer, Merkel’s chosen successor.

The plan is to leave the decision on who will be the CDU candidate for chancellor at the next election until after Germany’s EU presidency concludes in December. So Merkel will keep her job until 2021, and the new leader will have to learn to live with her.

The three leading candidates are Armin Laschet, Friedrich Merz and Norbert Röttgen, all from the state of North Rhine-Westphalia. Two of the three – Merz and Röttgen – were sacked by Merkel from their former jobs. They have not forgotten. Only Armin Laschet, currently CDU leader in North Rhine-Westphalia and state premier, can be described as a Merkel loyalist, true to her centrist mantra.

He is the man to beat, having teamed up with Jens Spahn, the 39-year-old health minister, who is popular with party conservatives. Spahn will run as his deputy, so the team straddles the left-right divide in the party. But the contest still seems set to be a bitter battle between pro- and anti-Merkel factions that could leave the party badly split.

After nearly 15 years as chancellor, and 18 years as CDU leader, Merkel remains the most popular politician in Germany. In spite of criticism that she lacks vision, her caution and predictability appear to be just what most German voters like.

But her term in office has also seen the steady shrinking of the centre ground in German politics, with the rise of the environmentalist Green party and the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) at the expense of the centre-right CDU and the centre-left Social Democratic Party (SPD).

The battle for the soul of the CDU is between those who think Merkel has been too left-wing, and want a more conservative leader to win back AfD voters, and those who believe that the CDU must stay in the centre, and prepare for a future coalition with the Greens. Merz is seen as the former, Laschet and Röttgen the latter.

Unless Laschet emerges as the clear winner in April, the leadership contest is likely to leave Germany sorely distracted by domestic politics just as it takes over the EU presidency in the second half of the year. Instead of Merkel having a triumphant international swansong on the EU stage, she could be battling to protect her inheritance at home.

The one area on which all three leadership candidates seem to agree is foreign policy: they all want Germany to take more leadership and responsibility, and for the European Union to play a bigger role in security, defence and international affairs. They are all Atlanticists, but critical of Donald Trump’s ‘America First’ stance. All are on the record criticizing the chancellor – at least tacitly – for not having a more vigorous foreign policy.

There the similarity ends.

On the right, the 64-year-old Merz is both the most conservative and the most popular with the party grassroots. He fell out with the chancellor when she took over his job as CDU leader in parliament in 2002. He quit politics to become a corporate lawyer (and a millionaire), but never lost his political ambition. He is an economic liberal but socially conservative, a strong critic of Merkel’s migration policy and her lack of clear leadership. Critics say he is a man of the past, and not a team player.

On the EU, he believes Germany is ‘leaving too much to the French’. If France and Germany cannot agree on financial matters, he said at the London School of Economics in February, they should instead forge a stronger EU industrial policy focused on creating more ‘European champions’.

Laschet, the Merkel loyalist, is four years younger, and from the left of the party. Like Merz, he is a former member of the European parliament. In 2015, he defended Merkel’s open border policy to accept refugees stranded in the Balkans. On Russia, however, he is more critical, calling for a new effort to re-engage with Vladimir Putin. Most recently, at the Munich Security Conference, he called for stronger Franco-German relations, and more support for the eurozone reforms proposed by Emmanuel Macron.

As CDU leader in North Rhine-Westphalia, Laschet has the strongest power base. He earned his political spurs there by winning the last state election in 2017, in contrast to Röttgen, who lost to the SPD and Greens five years earlier.

Röttgen, chairman of the Bundestag foreign affairs committee, is the surprise candidate. Once a Merkel favourite, they fell out when she sacked him as environment minister after he lost the North Rhine-Westphalia election. By throwing his hat in the ring, he has forced it to become an open contest. He is independent-minded and outspoken, but not as bitterly hostile to the chancellor as Merz, so he could be a compromise candidate.

Laschet is clearly the man Merkel would find it easiest to live with. The decision will be taken by a party congress, not a grassroots ballot, which gives him a better chance. But Merz is the most eloquent orator and seen as the best campaigner. The challenge for party members is whether they believe it is better to swing right and squeeze the AfD, or stick to the centre to hold onto voters tempted by the Greens, who have replaced the SPD as the second-most popular party in Germany.

The race is wide open. So is the future of the CDU. The only prediction one can make with much certainty is that as long as Merkel remains chancellor, any successor will struggle to get out of her shadow.