The European Union is the ultimate ‘rules-based order’. Since the end of the Cold War, the world has become increasingly integrated, in a process that Dani Rodrik has called ‘hyper-globalization’ to distinguish this from the more moderate form of globalization that occurred during the Cold War period.

But Europe, which was already more integrated than the rest of the world, has gone even further in removing barriers to the internal movement of capital, goods and people. The consequence of this has been the need for a more developed system of rules to govern this deep integration.

For much of this period, many Europeans – and also many outside Europe who had a liberal view of international politics – believed that the EU was a kind of blueprint for global governance.

They believed that the rest of the world would simply catch up with the enlightened and apparently successful approach that Europeans had taken. In short, Europeans were showing the way forward for the world.

However, after a decade of crisis, it now seems as if Europe may have overreached. In particular with the creation of the single currency, European rules increasingly extended into areas of life in which member states had previously had relative autonomy.

Since the beginning of the euro crisis in 2010, there has been a backlash against EU rules, which has raised the difficult question of whether international rule-making can go too far.

What makes international rules problematic is that they depoliticize – that is, they take the policy areas they cover out of the realm of democratic contestation. This can be a good thing when applied to policy areas that we think should be non-negotiable, like human rights.

But since the 1980s, and especially since the end of the Cold War, international rules have increasingly applied to areas of policy that not only should be contested but that should be at the centre of contestation – in particular, economic policy areas that have distributional consequences (that is, they create winners and losers).

The EU’s rules constrain its member states even more than global rules – for example, those of the World Trade Organization (WTO) – or rules associated with other regional integration projects constrain nation states elsewhere in the world. In particular, the EU’s fiscal rules – created along with the euro – set strict limits on the ability of member states to run budget deficits and accumulate debt.

Since the beginning of the euro crisis, these fiscal rules have been further tightened, which in turn has magnified the political backlash against the EU system and fuelled tensions between member states.

In democratic nation states, rules are made through a process that gives them what is sometimes called ‘input legitimacy’. International rule-making, by contrast, is essentially the product of power relations between states and therefore lacks this specific kind of legitimacy.

Supporters of European integration as currently constituted – whom one might term ‘pro-Europeans’ – would argue that EU rules are more like domestic rules than international rules: after all, they are agreed through a process involving democratic institutions such as the European Parliament. But even within the EU, power matters – as notably illustrated by Germany’s prominent (and controversial) role in driving the development of fiscal rules since the beginning of the euro crisis.

In addition, because European integration is meant to be an irreversible process, it is extremely difficult to change or abolish rules that have already been agreed. To do so would be ‘disintegration’ in the sense that powers would be returned to member states.

For example, there are good economic and political arguments for abolishing the ‘debt brake’, based on a German model, that EU member states agreed to incorporate into their national constitutions as part of the Fiscal Compact in 2011. But anyone making those arguments is labelled as Eurosceptic or ‘anti-European’.

There is also insufficient differentiation between EU rules. Any decision taken at a European level – even those decisions, such as on the Fiscal Compact, that are outside the EU treaties – becomes part of the EU’s system of rules. To challenge such a decision is therefore to violate the rule of law and therefore the EU’s ‘values’.

As Dieter Grimm has shown, legislation that would normally have the status of secondary law in a nation state has constitutional status in EU law and is therefore ‘immunized against political correction’.[1]

Though European leaders still often speak of the EU as a model for the rest of the world, the reality is that it now illustrates what other regional integration projects should avoid as much as what they should emulate. Even before the euro crisis, few other regions were thinking of creating a common currency.

But they will now think even more carefully about how far to follow Europe down the route of economic integration it has taken – and in particular will be unlikely to introduce EU-style fiscal rules.

The difficult question is where exactly the limits of international rule-making should be set. The European experience in the past decade suggests that rules on economic policy are particularly problematic because of the distributional consequences they have.

But European integration focused on economic policy from its beginnings with the European Coal and Steel Community in the 1950s. Moreover, because globalization is to a large extent an economic phenomenon, economic policy is precisely where international rules are needed.

A good place to start in thinking about where to set the limits of international rule-making may be in terms of the objectives of rules. During the early phase of European integration and the more moderate phase of globalization in the 30 years after the end of the Second World War, integration strengthened nation states – indeed, Alan Milward argued that integration ‘rescued’ the nation state in Europe.[2]

But since the end of the Cold War, rules at both the global level and a European level have been driven by the maximization of economic efficiency. This has undermined the nation state. As Rodrik has argued, a reprioritization is now needed – rules should be made above all with their impact on democracy in mind.[3]

In order to regain legitimacy, Europe should apply this idea of democracy-enhancing rules to its own approach to integration. It should begin by differentiating more clearly between rules that are fundamental to the European project and those about which Europeans can – and should – disagree.

The consequence of thinking of rules above all in terms of legitimacy may be that in some policy areas, particularly those with distributive consequences, rules should be abolished and power returned to member states.

‘Pro-Europeans’ should be open to this kind of ‘disintegration’ as a way to help the EU regain legitimacy and thus be sustainable in the medium term. It is also only by successfully recalibrating the balance between rules and democracy that the EU will once again be seen as a model for regional integration projects in the rest of the world, and for global governance more generally.

Notes

[1] Grimm, D. (2015), ‘The Democratic Costs of Constitutionalisation: The European Case’, European Law Journal, Volume 21, Issue 4, July 2015, https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/eulj.12139.

[2] Milward, A. (1999), The European Rescue of the Nation State, London: Routledge.

[3] Rodrik, D. (2006), ‘Put Globalization to Work for Democracies’, New York Times, 17 September 2006, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/18/opinion/sunday/put-globalization-to-work-for-democracies.html.

This essay was produced for the 2019 edition of Chatham House Expert Perspectives – our annual survey of risks and opportunities in global affairs – in which our researchers identify areas where the current sets of rules, institutions and mechanisms for peaceful international cooperation are falling short, and present ideas for reform and modernization.

In discussions to date about how international law applies in cyberspace, commentators have tended to focus their attention on how the rules on the use of force, or the law of armed conflict, apply to cyber activities conducted by states that give rise to physical damage, injury or death.

But in practice, the vast majority of state cyberattacks fall below this threshold. Far more common are persistent, low-level attacks that may leave no physical trace but that are capable of doing significant damage to a state’s ability to control its systems, often at serious economic cost.

Such cyber incursions might include network disruptions in the operation of another government’s websites; tampering with electoral infrastructure to change or undermine the result; or using cyber means to destabilize another state’s financial sector.

For these kinds of cyber operation, the principle of sovereignty, and the principle of non-intervention in another state’s internal affairs, are the starting point.

A UN Group of Government Experts (GGE) agreed in 2013 and 2015 that the principles in the UN Charter, including sovereignty and the prohibition on intervention in another state’s affairs, apply to states’ activities in cyberspace. The 2015 GGE also recommended eleven (non-binding) norms of responsible state behaviour in cyberspace.

However, states have not yet reached agreement on how to apply these principles. Until recently, there has also been very little knowledge of what states actually do in cyberspace, as they usually conduct cyber operations covertly and have been reluctant to put their views on record.

A new Chatham House research paper analyses the application of the principles of sovereignty and non-intervention to state cyberattacks that fall below the principle of use of force. As well as analysing the application of the law in this area, the paper also makes recommendations to governments on how they might best make progress in reaching agreement in this area.

Existing rules or new rules?

As the research paper makes clear, there is currently some debate, principally between countries in the West, about the extent to which sovereignty is a legally binding rule in the context of cyberspace and, if so, how it and the principle of non-intervention might apply in practice.

In the last few years, certain states have put on record how they consider international law to apply to states’ activities in cyberspace, namely the UK, Australia, France and the Netherlands. While there may be some differences in their approaches, which are discussed in the paper, there also remains important common ground: namely, that existing international law already provides a solid framework for regulating states’ cyber activities, as it regulates every other domain of state-to-state activity.

There is also an emerging trend for states to work together when attributing cyberattacks to hostile states, enabling them to call out malign cyber activity when it violates international law. (See, for example, the joint statements made in relation to the NotPetya cyber attack and malicious cyber activity attributed to the Russian government).

However, other countries have questioned whether existing international law as it stands is capable of regulating states’ cyber interactions and have called for ‘new legal instruments’ in this area.

This includes a proposal by the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (led by Russia and China) for an International Code of Conduct on Information Security, a draft of which was submitted to the UN in 2011 and 2015, without success. The UN has also formed a new Open-Ended Working Group (OEWG) under a resolution proposed by Russia to consider how international law applies to states’ activities in cyberspace.

The resolution establishing the OEWG, which began work earlier this year, includes the possibility of the group ‘introducing changes to the rules, norms and principles of responsible behaviour of States’ agreed in the 2013 and 2015 GGE reports. In the OEWG discussions at the UN in September, several countries claimed that a new legal instrument was needed to fill the ‘legal vacuum’ (Cuba) or ‘the gap of ungoverned areas’ (Indonesia).

It would be concerning if the hard-won consensus on the application of international law to cyberspace that has been reached at past GGEs started to unravel. In contrast to 2013 and 2015, the 2017 meeting failed to reach an agreement.

On 9 December, a renewed GGE will meet in New York, but the existence of the OEWG exploring the same issues in a separate process reflects the fact that cyber norms have become an area of geopolitical rivalry.

Aside from the application of international law, states are also adopting divergent approaches to the domestic regulation of cyberspace within their own territory. The emerging trend towards a ‘splinternet’ – i.e. between states that believe the internet should be global and open on the hand, and those that favour a ‘sovereignty and control’ model on the other  – is also likely to make discussions at the GGE more challenging.

Distinct from the international law concept of sovereignty is the notion of ‘cybersovereignty’, a term coined by China to describe the wide-ranging powers it assumes under domestic law to regulate its citizens’ access to the internet and personal data within its territory. This approach is catching on (as reflected in Russia’s recently enacted ‘Sovereign Internet Law’), with other authoritarian states likely to follow suit.

The importance of non-state actors

In parallel with regional and UN discussions on how international law applies, a number of initiatives by non-state actors have also sought to establish voluntary principles about responsible state behaviour in cyberspace.

The Global Commission on the Stability of Cyberspace, a multi-stakeholder body that has proposed principles, norms and recommendations to guide responsible behaviour by all parties in cyberspace, recently published its final report. The Cybersecurity Tech Accord  aims to promote collaboration between tech companies on stability and resilience in cyberspace. President Macron’s ‘Paris Call for Trust and Security in Cyberspace’ has to date received the backing of 67 states, 139 international and civil society organizations, and 358 private-sector organizations.

It remains to be seen in the long term whether the parallel processes at the UN will work constructively together or be competitive. But notwithstanding the challenging geopolitical backdrop, the UN GGE meeting next week at the least offers states the opportunity to consolidate and build on the results of past meetings; to increase knowledge and discussion about how international law might apply; and to encourage more states to put their own views of these issues on the record.

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.

With Putin’s current term as head of state due to run out in 2024, the question everybody has been asking is what he will do to remain in power. The Russian president’s recent speech, made in person in the State Duma during the second reading of his own constitutional reform bill, has been interpreted by many as a clear answer. Summaries such as “Putin forever” and “perpetual Putin” abound. But the reality is not so clear.

Putin has not committed to standing for re-election in 2024, never mind staying in power until 2036, when two additional six-year terms from 2024 would run out. What he has done is provide the constitutional grounds to retain power as president. It creates a highly credible option without committing him to it.

And the uncertainty matters. Because as long as members of the elite are unsure whether Putin will take up the option to remain president, they are kept in check.

Broader constitutional reform

With the flurry of interest around Putin’s announcement, we should not lose sight of his moves to further strengthen the presidency. As part of the broader constitutional reform package, Russia’s existing “super-presidency” will gain additional powers, such as the authority to fire top-tier judges and to block legislation when the legislature has overridden a presidential veto (in other words, a “super-veto”).

The proposals also put the autonomy of local self-government at risk, with Moscow and regional executives gaining the constitutional power to hire and fire officials who are not even technically part of the state. And the president now has a formalised role as “general leader” of the government. Putin is creating the “Great Presidency”.

However, the majority of constitutional changes do not relate to the presidency – they have different purposes. Firstly, to revitalise support for the regime which took a hit following unpopular pension reforms in 2018. Secondly, to distract or appease those worried by Putin remaining in a strengthened presidency. And perhaps most significantly, to boost turnout in the nationwide vote on reforms.

This desire to re-energise popular support becomes apparent as the changes – some of which will have to be inserted rather awkwardly into the constitution’s structure – focus on three elements aimed squarely at improving the regime’s appeal: increased material support from the state for citizens, including indexing state pensions; an emphasis on “traditional values”, including a declaration that marriage can only be a union between a man and a woman; and increased Russian sovereignty, including a “nationalisation” of the elite, with a constitutional ban on top-level officials having bank accounts abroad. 

Constitutional reform is, moreover, the most visible part of a broader political transformation already underway, including a major propaganda drive. Putin has promised a significant increase in resources for its “maternity capital” programme, putting more money in the pockets of young Russian families.

And he has instructed Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin’s government to focus on delivering his “national projects” – goals aimed at improving Russians’ lives across a range of areas, from infrastructure to education and healthcare.

Taking advantage of several imminent historical milestones is also on the cards. It has been reported Putin will sign the constitutional reform bill on March 18 – the anniversary of Russia’s annexation of Crimea. And May 9 is the 75th anniversary of the end of the Great Patriotic War (the Russian term for the Second World War), with foreign dignitaries invited to attend events in Moscow.

Putin has also been filling the airwaves with a high-production-values series called “20 Questions for Vladimir Putin”, as well as holding public meetings with citizens in provinces such as Cherepovets and Ivanovo. There is a clear aim to demonstrate the president is not only still in control, but also concerned with the well-being of everyday Russians.

With parliamentary elections scheduled for September 2021 the Kremlin knows that, to maintain its control of a super-majority of seats in the State Duma, its ratings-raising drive has to work – even if it does always have the option of using manifestly authoritarian methods for realising desired election results. A proposal to call early State Duma elections was made during the second reading of Putin’s reform bill, but was quickly withdrawn after Putin spoke out against the idea.

Russia’s complex architecture of “power”

Throughout this transformation, maintaining control of the elite – particularly of the siloviki – is key for Putin. A reshuffling and removal of senior officials in the Procuracy has seen Yury Chaika replaced as general prosecutor by Ivan Krasnov, previously a deputy chair of the Investigative Committee, which is widely seen as a rival structure in Russia’s complex architecture of “power” bodies.

When considered alongside the constitutional changes giving the president broader powers in appointing regional prosecutors, this is textbook “divide and rule”. Power balancing is also on display with the Security Council, as the job description for Dmitry Medvedev’s new role as its deputy chair could provide fertile ground for clashes with the body’s secretary, Nikolai Patrushev.

Pitting rival patronal networks against each other means Putin can keep rivals in check within the broader structure of the “Great Presidency”, while staying firmly in control himself.

The prospect of Putin remaining president is unlikely to be popular. According to data from independent Russian polling agency the Levada Centre, only 27 per cent of Russians want Putin to stay in the post after 2024. This figure could, of course, change in either direction as the prospect becomes more real for Russians. But if Putin’s announcement galvanises mass opposition, the authorities may well use responses to the COVID-19 outbreak to keep protesters at bay – something already on display in Moscow.

What this all means for Russia is that, despite the drama, considerable uncertainty remains following Putin’s announcement. What we can say for certain, however, is that it dashes hopes of serious political change any time soon.

COVID-19 has put a serious strain on healthcare and economic systems around the world. This virtual roundtable will explore its impact on Russia, Ukraine, Georgia and Kazakhstan. Through a comparative examination of government and society responses, this event will show how COVID-19 has laid bare the region’s broader social, economic and political challenges.

The president of Malta discusses the current security challenges in the Mediterranean region, reflecting on the role of international cooperation in addressing climate change, migration and refugee flows.

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.

After a summer of regional tensions and continued uncertainty regarding the future of the JCPOA, the Chatham House MENA Programme held a closed workshop to examine the impact of the Trump administration’s maximum pressure campaign.

Discussions focused on the domestic developments and challenges inside Iran, prospects for new negotiations with Iran, and the regional issues facing the country. Participants also considered the differences between American and European approaches towards Iran.