Moisés Naím will share his insights into the changing nature of power in the 21st century. He will articulate what he considers to be the shift and dispersal of power between traditionally dominant actors (such as large, stable governments, corporations and armies), and newly ascendant ‘micropowers’ (such as the Tea Party, WikiLeaks, and Somali pirates). 

Crucially, however, he will argue power today is decaying. He will suggest power is easier to acquire, but harder to use, and easier to lose. Coupled with this, the drive for power makes emerging actors across many fields of endeavour vulnerable, leading to chaos, confusion and paralysis. 

There will be a reception after the event.

This is an Under 35s Forum event.

Loss of territory to the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS) and the mass executions of Shia have undoubtedly had an impact on the mobilization of fighters inside Iraq opposing the group. But after the capture of Mosul and Tikrit by ISIS, a message from the group’s spokesman, Abu Muhammad al-Adnani, highlighted the power of religion as a mobilizing force in armed conflict. In the audio message Adnani addressed Prime Minister Nouri al Maliki as ‘Rafidi’, a derogatory term for Shia meaning rejectionist. He pledged that ‘the settling of debts will not be in Samarra and Baghdad, rather in Karbala al-munajjasah [Karbala the defiled] and Najaf al-ashrak [Najaf the most polytheistic]’.

His use of the words ‘munajjasah’ and ‘ashrak’ was a sectarian play on words referring to the two cities viewed by the Shia as being the most important cities in Islam after Mecca and Medina. Karbala is also known as Karbala al-Muqaddasa (Karbala the Holy), and contains the mausoleum of the third Shia Imam, Hussein ibn Ali. Najaf is commonly referred to as Najaf al-Ashraf (Najaf the Most Honourable), and contains the mausoleum of the first Shia Imam and fourth ‘rightly guided’ caliph, Ali ibn Abi Talib.

Threats against Karbala and Najaf have prompted an immediate reaction from Shia both inside Iraq and beyond its borders. When a representative of Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, the most influential living Shia religious authority, called on all able-bodied Iraqis to ’confront and fight the terrorists’, Sistani was compelled to reiterate that the subject of his call were Iraqis, and not just Shia. Ayatollah Fadhil al-Milani, Sistani’s representative in London, also released a video message clarifying that there was no need for Shia outside of Iraq to confront ISIS.

Fighters are already mobilized in Syria on the basis that Shia shrines in Damascus such as the Sayyidah Zainab Mosque are under threat from extremist ‘Takfiri’ militant groups intent on destroying these holy sites. The narrative of protecting Zainab’s shrine is a potent one: militias in the country bear names such as the Brigade of Zainab’s Protector and the Abu al-Fadhl Abbas Brigades. In 2013, Hezbollah Secretary General Hassan Nasrallah warned that the destruction of Zainab’s shrine would ‘carry with it grave consequences’, and that ‘countries supporting these groups [would] be held responsible for this crime if it takes place.’ Iran’s President Hassan Rouhani has also stated unequivocally on live television that ‘regarding the holy Shia shines in Karbala, Najaf, Khadhimiya and Samarra, we announce to the killers and terrorists that the big Iranian nation will not hesitate to protect holy shrines’.

Understanding sacred geography in conflict

The explicit threat against the sacred geography of Najaf and Karbala has the potential to escalate the crisis in Iraq from a domestic to transnational conflict, drawing in fighters from around the world. For this reason, there should be a greater attempt to understand how sacred geography can transform the stakes of armed conflict.

In 2001, UN General Assembly Resolution 55/254 called upon states to ‘exert their utmost efforts to ensure that religious sites are fully respected and protected’ and ‘adopt adequate measures aimed at preventing […] acts or threats of violence’. Just what these ‘adequate measures’ should be remains unclear. Armed forces across the world often need to operate in religious sites but at the risk of undermining long-term relations with the local population; and those making the calculations are often unaware of the repercussions.

This is not to assert that sacred geography is the only factor to look at when assessing militant mobilization in Iraq and elsewhere. Nevertheless, incorporating a less secular lens for analysing international security would be useful and working through the practical implications of the UN resolution – and setting firmer guidelines − should therefore become a priority.

To comment on this article, please contact Chatham House Feedback

It is becoming widely accepted that we have transitioned, or are now transitioning, from an international liberal order to a different reality. Whether that reality is different solely in terms of power dynamics, or also in terms of values and institutions, is up for discussion. The growing body of literature on ‘post-liberalism’ is used as an entry-point for this article, which aims to explore how the post-liberal transition applies to cyberspace. We explore how power dynamics are evolving in cyberspace, as well as how established norms, values and institutions are contested. The article then looks at the emergence of cyber diplomacy as a consequence and response to the post-liberal transition. As it will be argued, if cyberspace was a creation of the liberal order, cyber-diplomacy is a post-liberal world practice. What role it plays in shaping a new order or building bridges between different political visions, and what it means for the future of cyberspace, will constitute key points of discussion.

China has been a major market for elephant ivory for centuries. However, the Chinese government recently enacted bans on imports and exports of ivory (2015) and on the domestic ivory trade (2017). These bans appear to have come in response to intensive influence campaigns and public shaming from domestic and foreign activists, who cited declining elephant populations and highlighted China's role. However, this shaming-narrative is at odds with conventional wisdom regarding Chinese policy-making: China typically resists international pressures and its authoritarian government is thought to be largely insulated from domestic efforts by civil society groups. This article reconciles Beijing's ivory policy with these conventional beliefs about policy-making in China. I argue that the Chinese government saw unique benefits to banning the ivory trade, under growing international scrutiny, as doing so enhanced Chinese soft power while having very little impact on its sovereignty or development. Non-government organizations (NGOs) operating both inside and outside of China played a role as well: NGOs in China helped to shift Chinese public opinion towards favouring the bans, while those operating abroad led public relations efforts to publicize Chinese demand for ivory to foreign audiences. Efforts by the latter group of NGOs intensified pressure on the Chinese government to rein in the ivory market, while increasing the soft power benefits that banning ivory would bring to Beijing.

The Asia-Pacific region continues to increase in geopolitical and geoeconomic importance. The rise of China and tensions with the US are affecting bilateral relationships and traditional alliances in the region. Whether seen from the perspective of the Quad – Australia, India, Japan and the US – or the Indo-Pacific concept embraced by a wide range of countries but with no shared consensus on scope and objectives or with ASEAN who insists on the importance of its own centrality, the region is redefining and reconceptualising itself.

With a diverse range of initiatives – including the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) and Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP) – there are a plethora of regional agreements and institutional groupings that add further complexity.

As the Bretton Woods architecture continues to be dominated by Western powers, China is also spearheading parallel governance initiatives such as the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB), the Belt and Road Initiative and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) as a means of enhancing its geopolitical and geoeconomic influence.

This one-day conference will focus on how such networks and alliances have been built, and sustained, in the Asia-Pacific region. In order to understand how new regional initiatives might open up opportunities for new forms of international cooperation, the conference will focus on the themes of cyber-technology and innovation, sustainable development and mitigating the impacts of climate change and new infrastructure initiatives. It will assess whether there is a zero-sum conflict between competing networks and agendas or whether a common approach can be developed.

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.

Summary

• The application of ‘security by design’ in nuclear new builds could provide operators with the opportunity to establish a robust and resilient security architecture at the beginning of a nuclear power plant’s life cycle. This will enhance the protection of the plant and reduce the need for costly security improvements during its operating life.
• Security by design cannot fully protect a nuclear power plant from rapidly evolving cyberattacks, which expose previously unsuspected or unknown vulnerabilities.
• Careful design of security systems and architecture can – and should – achieve levels of protection that exceed current norms and expectations. However, the sourcing of components from a global supply chain means that the integrity of even the most skilfully designed security regime cannot be guaranteed without exhaustive checks of its components.
• Security by design may well include a requirement for a technical support organization to conduct quality assurance of cyber defences and practices, and this regime should be endorsed by a facility’s executive board and continued at regular intervals after the new build facility has been commissioned.
• Given the years it takes to design, plan and build a new nuclear power plant, it is important to recognize that from the point of ‘design freeze’ onwards, the operator will be building in vulnerabilities, as technology continues to evolve rapidly while construction fails to keep pace with it. Security by design cannot be a panacea, but it is an important factor in the establishment of a robust nuclear security – and cybersecurity – culture.

China has been a major market for elephant ivory for centuries. However, the Chinese government recently enacted bans on imports and exports of ivory (2015) and on the domestic ivory trade (2017). These bans appear to have come in response to intensive influence campaigns and public shaming from domestic and foreign activists, who cited declining elephant populations and highlighted China's role. However, this shaming-narrative is at odds with conventional wisdom regarding Chinese policy-making: China typically resists international pressures and its authoritarian government is thought to be largely insulated from domestic efforts by civil society groups. This article reconciles Beijing's ivory policy with these conventional beliefs about policy-making in China. I argue that the Chinese government saw unique benefits to banning the ivory trade, under growing international scrutiny, as doing so enhanced Chinese soft power while having very little impact on its sovereignty or development. Non-government organizations (NGOs) operating both inside and outside of China played a role as well: NGOs in China helped to shift Chinese public opinion towards favouring the bans, while those operating abroad led public relations efforts to publicize Chinese demand for ivory to foreign audiences. Efforts by the latter group of NGOs intensified pressure on the Chinese government to rein in the ivory market, while increasing the soft power benefits that banning ivory would bring to Beijing.

Africa’s media landscape has undergone a significant change over the last decade as digitalization and new forms of media consumption have weakened state control of information. Social media has provided an opportunity for African citizens and journalists to take agency over how the continent is presented to the wider world, and many emerging African voices bring clarity to this digitally disrupted marketplace. But significant external support is required to make these efforts sustainable.  

There is no one ‘African’ story. African media remains as diverse as the 55 states in the African Union, with each national media ecosystem dependent on patterns of culture and governance - most importantly the power gap between those in leadership and their voters.

Journalists from Egypt, Eritrea and Cameroon - states in the 2019 global top 10 for putting their colleagues in prison - have different perspectives from those in other more liberal African countries.

This is most visible in traditional media where a business model based on advertising revenue has allowed African media houses to grow. But it is susceptible to manipulation from state and business actors holding outlets to ransom in exchange for editorial influence or control – a particularly acute problem in states where business and political elites are closely intertwined, and a middle-class consumer base to fund market-driven advertising has yet to develop.

Those African countries with relatively open borders, stronger passports and a more vibrant civil society also tend to have a more diverse and vibrant media environment. Open borders allow for easier movement, granting journalists the opportunity to travel, benchmark and participate in exchange programs.

The power of online networking

The advent of the social media age has begun to disrupt the links between governance and media health, as the large operations required by ‘serious’ media organizations have been replaced by mobile phone cameras and social media timelines.

Many African journalists are at the forefront of this innovation, unrestricted by historical perceptions of how journalism should be presented, and free to disrupt and change the established narratives to better engage with their ever-growing audiences.

And, far from replacing journalism, social media has actively empowered African journalists and media professionals. Instead of acting as sources for international media outlets as in the past, African journalists can publish their work on their own platforms, enabling greater ownership of how issues in their localities are globally framed. This local voice is often the key to avoiding the endemic oversimplifications and generalisations that have coloured much external coverage of the continent.

Obviously, these changes bring risks. Individual uploaders are largely free to publish what they like, and misinformation can - and often has - lead to devastating consequences, evident in recent violence across central Mali, South Africa and the middle belt of Nigeria.

But journalists on the African continent have an increasingly important role in preventing the spread of misinformation, not only as purveyors of news but also as fact-checkers, able to discern the difference between valid opinion and dubious rhetoric on social media, while new pan-African digital networks and discussion groups enable journalists to share knowledge, expertise, and story ideas, or quickly verify information from across the continent.

It is now possible to quickly find authentic voices for TV, radio or online commentary through digital platforms, present on the ground and able to speak with real authority. Many online networks also include Africa-focused journalists from outside the continent, and any biased or incorrect coverage of the African continent can be ‘called out’ and heavily critiqued, with challenges shared and solutions generated. While journalists remain independent, their working practices and professional standards are being shaped by the discourse in the groups like never before.

Online networking has also exposed the existence of lingering cultural differences between journalists of different national backgrounds, such as a hesitancy to discuss sensitive issues – the health of leaders for instance – for fear of being targeted by the authorities, or the level to which government statements are uncritically accepted.

While journalists search for truth, how they go about it is still very dependent on the state of democracy in their country. Though the cross-fertilisation of best practices and critical scrutiny can only improve the quality of journalism on the continent, in many places there remains a long way to go.

Drive for better resources

Across the world, digital media has struggled to create models which can provide news free at the point of access while also successfully monetizing content. This is even more palpable on the African continent, as the subscription-based models employed as a remedy elsewhere are not feasible on such a large scale in countries without a well-established middle-class.

African media needs resources to keep operating at a time when revenue is dwindling, and talented journalists are decamping to join the marketing, communication and sales sectors in search of better wages. Structures to support more in-depth investigative journalism are vital in Africa because that seems to be the only thing those in power still truly fear.

This means more training opportunities, fellowships, and exchange programs to allow the exchange of ideas and expertise. And, as social media has given a platform to talented local voices from across Africa, then an international community which truly wants to understand the nuances of the continent must hire them.   

Economic containment has garnered repeated attention in the discourse about the United States' response to China. Yet, the attributes of economic containment as a distinct strategy of Great Power competition remain unclear. Moreover, the conditions under which a leading power can employ economic containment against a challenging power remain theoretically unelaborated. This article first suggests that economic containment refers to the use of economic policies to weaken the targeted state's material capacity to start military aggression, rather than to influence the competitor's behaviour over a specific issue. Then, this article suggests that economic containment becomes a viable option when the leading power has the ability to inflict more losses on the challenging power through economic restrictions, and this ability is largely determined by the availability of alternative economic partners. When the leading power cannot effectively inflict more losses on the challenging power due to the presence of alternative economic partners, it is better off avoiding economic containment. The author substantiates these arguments through case-studies of the United States' responses to the Soviet Union during the Cold War. The article concludes by examining the nature of the United States' recent economic restrictions against China.

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.

It is becoming widely accepted that we have transitioned, or are now transitioning, from an international liberal order to a different reality. Whether that reality is different solely in terms of power dynamics, or also in terms of values and institutions, is up for discussion. The growing body of literature on ‘post-liberalism’ is used as an entry-point for this article, which aims to explore how the post-liberal transition applies to cyberspace. We explore how power dynamics are evolving in cyberspace, as well as how established norms, values and institutions are contested. The article then looks at the emergence of cyber diplomacy as a consequence and response to the post-liberal transition. As it will be argued, if cyberspace was a creation of the liberal order, cyber-diplomacy is a post-liberal world practice. What role it plays in shaping a new order or building bridges between different political visions, and what it means for the future of cyberspace, will constitute key points of discussion.

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.

Summary

• The use of wood for electricity generation and heat in modern (non-traditional) technologies has grown rapidly in recent years, and has the potential to continue to do so.
• The EU has been, and remains, the main global source of demand, as a result of its targets for renewable energy. This demand is largely met by its own forest resources and supplemented by imports from the US, Canada and Russia.
• Countries outside the EU, including the US, China, Japan and South Korea, have the potential to increase the use of biomass (including agricultural residues as well as wood), but so far this has not taken place at scale, partly because of the falling costs of competing renewables such as solar PV and wind. However, the role of biomass as a system balancer, and its supposed ability, in combination with carbon capture and storage technology, to generate negative emissions, seem likely to keep it in contention in the future.
• Although most renewable energy policy frameworks treat biomass as though it is carbon-neutral at the point of combustion, in reality this cannot be assumed, as biomass emits more carbon per unit of energy than most fossil fuels. Only residues that would otherwise have been burnt as waste or would have been left in the forest and decayed rapidly can be considered to be carbon-neutral over the short to medium term.
• One reason for the perception of biomass as carbon-neutral is the fact that, under IPCC greenhouse gas accounting rules, its associated emissions are recorded in the land use rather than the energy sector. However, the different ways in which land use emissions are accounted for means that a proportion of the emissions from biomass may never be accounted for.
• In principle, sustainability criteria can ensure that only biomass with the lowest impact on the climate are used; the current criteria in use in some EU member states and under development in the EU, however, do not achieve this as they do not account for changes in forest carbon stock.

Also see Woody Biomass for Power and Heat: Impacts on the Global Climate, which assesses the impact of the use of biomass for energy on greenhouse gas emissions, how these are accounted for under international climate accounting rules, and analyses the sustainability criteria currently in use and under development to minimise negative impacts.

At this session, the speaker will argue that our future hinges on a set of elements that receive scant attention even from those whose fortunes rely upon them. The speaker will outline why our electronic gadgets, the most powerful armies and indeed the fate of our planet depend on producing sustainable supplies of rare metals. He will outline some of the  new environmental, economic, and geopolitical consequences of supply chains and discuss the dynamics of the rare metal markets which are vastly different than traditional commodities traded on open exchanges. The speaker will also address some of the security of supply issues arising from China's role as the dominant consumer and producer of most of the world’s minor metals. Finally, the discussion will also include what countries and companies can do to ensure resilient supply lines.

Attendance at this event is by invitation only. 

The new European Commission has finally started its work this week. In a world increasingly defined by great power competition and deprived of the certainties of a strong transatlantic partnership, this might well be the first commission where foreign and security policy issues will be equally important to internal EU ones.

Amid an escalating Sino-American rivalry, there is a growing realization in Brussels that something has to change in the way the EU thinks and acts internationally.

Charting a more successful path forward will not be easy. Josep Borrell, the EU’s new high representative for foreign affairs and security policy, during his confirmation hearing, offered a hint as to what might be needed to get there: ‘The EU has to learn to use the language of power.”’

What might this mean in practice?

Four issues illustrate some of the key dilemmas ahead for the EU and its new executive.

Hard power

The most revealing of these concerns hard power.

For a union so addicted to the US security guarantee, and so used to the softer approaches of exercising its influence, this was always going to be a difficult discussion. The recent disagreement between Germany and France over the future of NATO gave a taste of how fraught and complex this discussion can be.

Underpinning it are three fundamental questions. If the EU has to enhance its capacity to defend its interests with military power, how (and how quickly) is it to move ahead, how much additional responsibility will that mean and to what degree will this responsibility need to be shouldered autonomously, potentially distancing itself from NATO or Washington? Moving forward with this agenda while balancing the competing interests of member states and preserving the fragile progress already achieved with initiatives such as PESCO will not be easy.

Discussion and debate among member states should not be discouraged, but the new commission has a role to play in ensuring that such discussion is constructive. Distracting talks about an EU army or a nuclear ‘Eurodeterrent’ should be shelved, with the focus as much as possible on acquiring tangible capabilities, getting the defence architecture right, ensuring operational readiness and spending defence budgets smartly.

How to use power

Great powers have traditionally been able to cooperate in certain areas while competing in others. Given their wide reach, powers like the US have generally not allowed disagreement on one issue to interfere with the ability to work together on others.

If the EU aspires to be a more assertive global player, it will need to grow comfortable with this compartmentalization. For example, if Brussels wants to stand up to Beijing regarding human rights, the South China Sea or issues of acquisition of European infrastructure, this should not mean that cooperation on areas such as peacekeeping, arms control or climate change needs to be blocked.

Footing the bill

Ursula von der Leyen, the new commission president, has announced that she wants an increase of 30% for external action in the 2021–27 Multi-annual Financial Framework (the EU budget). But with the Brexit budget gap looming, and little appetite to increase contributions or reduce the funds allocated to costly schemes, like the Common Agricultural Policy, compromises will have to be made for this to happen.

This will be one of the first key tests for the new commission. Power costs money, not just gestures, and therefore specific commitments already made under the Juncker mandate regarding the European Defence Fund or the new Neighbourhood, Development and International Cooperation Instrument need to be guaranteed, if not expanded.

Internal politics

None of these steps are possible if the internal workings of the EU become too dysfunctional. A stronger stance internationally would make the sometime incoherence of internal EU management more of a liability to the bloc’s credibility. For example, how can the EU advocate for the rule of law beyond its borders while some of its own member states violate the same principles? 

And there remains the perpetual question of how much more power member states are willing to cede – if any – to deliver faster and more efficient decision-making. If the bloc’s reflexes – often slow, consensual and risk averse – are out of place with the role of a modern great power, how does the commission envision introducing decision-making mechanisms, like qualified majority voting, in foreign and security policy matters?

Borrell’s résumé shows his extensive experience in handling critical policy dossiers. He is also expected to travel less than his predecessor, being mindful of the even heavier institutional work ahead, not least in working with a more politically fragmented European Council and a more politicized European Parliament.

Ultimately, learning the language of power might mean that the EU finally deals with the basics of international affairs as a coherent and cohesive actor, rather than as an occasional ensemble. This endeavour clearly lacks a fixed path or destination. But the new commission seems to be mindful that the EU will have to find new ways to use power as the world changes around it. In doing so, it should keep in mind that the language of power is best articulated not with words, but with actions.

Drawing on her experience as secretary of state for defence and secretary of state for international development, Penny Mordaunt discusses how soft power can protect, promote and project Britain’s international interests and foreign policy agenda.

Often defined as the capacity to influence others without coercion or force, soft power differs from traditional military capabilities in favour of more subtle forms of influence rooted in values, culture and civic institutions.

Consistently upholding democratic values and human rights can contribute to a nation’s soft power as much as its cultural icons and legacies.  However, utilising soft power – the power of attractiveness – is not straightforward: the government is only part of a broad mix of institutions and actors with a role to play.

Can the UK develop a long term approach that brings together all of the components of its soft power for a common purpose?

What are the key sources of Britain’s soft power? How has Brexit affected perceptions of Britain internationally? And with the UK’s departure from the European Union now confirmed, how should we think about its soft power in the future?

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.