Artículo World Politics Review, 17.06.2022 Paul Poast, profesor de ciencia política (U. de Chicago) y académico (Chicago Council on Global Affairs)
French President Emmanuel Macron came under heavy criticism recently for suggesting that Europe must find a way to broker a settlement to the war in Ukraine that avoids “humiliating” Russia. Macron subsequently clarified that he staunchly supports Ukraine’s war efforts, which France has been actively assisting, including by providing weapons shipments.
But Macron’s comments, which draw on bad historical analogies to the 1919 Treaty of Versailles and its treatment of Germany following World War I, still raised concerns. And the fact that it is not the first time he has had to clarify his remarks on the conflict revived questions regarding France’s commitment to maintaining a fully intact and sovereign Ukraine. Macron reiterated that commitment yesterday while visiting Kyiv with several European counterparts. Still, it’s hard not to wonder, Why is he making what at first glance appears to be a beginner’s error?
One could easily point to domestic political constraints. The longer the war goes on, the longer that the sanctions against Russia must be maintained. But sanctions are often a form of “self-harm” that cause economic pain to the country imposing them as well as to the targeted country. The economic harm caused by the sanctions in France could eventually prove politically untenable, despite Macron recently having secured a second term in office.
Domestic political considerations are not unimportant, but in all likelihood the explanation for Macron’s remarks and positioning on the war goes beyond them.
First, make no mistake, France does see Russia as a security risk. But Paris has a different perspective on how to manage that risk. France was one of the mediating countries, with Germany, of the Minsk agreements that sought to end the Russian-backed separatist fighting in the Donbas region of Ukraine in 2014 and 2015, and reduce tensions between Kyiv and Moscow since then. France has consistently seen value in trying to normalize relations with Russia, rather than seek to balance it. Indeed, a point of agreement between Macron and former U.S. President Donald Trump in 2019 was a desire to bring Russia back into the G-7, though Macron stipulated that Moscow would have to meet certain conditions, including resolving the standoff in Donbas, first.
This is not unlike the French perspective regarding the Soviet Union during the Cold War. In contrast to the hostile rivalry between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, or West Germany’s existential fears of a pending invasion, France consistently sought a “pragmatic” approach to dealing with Moscow. At times, especially when France was most in disagreement with the U.S., the Soviet Union found France to be a useful interlocutor with the West. Consider that France was one of the few major Western powers to oppose harsh sanctions on the Soviet Union following its invasion of Afghanistan. As a CIA report from the time noted, “France's hard line against any sanctions primarily reflects the special relationship the French believe they have with the USSR, but it also shows their desire to conduct foreign policy independent of the United States where possible.”
This leads to a second explanation for France’s behavior, both historically and during the current crisis: status seeking. France’s “geopolitical” identity, especially since the end of World War II, includes an almost reflexive urge to affirm its importance and its autonomy. Unlike the other four permanent members of the United Nations Security Council, France gained its position as a postwar Great Power by courtesy: The U.S. and Britain insisted that it be on the council, despite its humiliating defeat at the hands of Nazi Germany in 1941. Indeed, there have recently been calls within Europe for France to cede that seat to the European Union. This legacy of perceived “French Exceptionalism” can be seen as an effort to demonstrate the country’s continuing great power status.
In security affairs, examples of this status-seeking independent streak can be seen in actions running from then-President Charles De Gaulle withdrawing France from NATO’s integrated military command in 1966 to former President Jacques Chirac aligning France with Russia and China against Britain and the U.S. on the eve of the Iraq War in 2003. In addition to France’s moderate line vis-à-vis the Soviet Union during the Cold War, its hardline position during the negotiations that created NATO—namely its insistence on including Algeria, then a French department, under the alliance’s security umbrella—nearly undermined the talks.
But the efforts went beyond that. Though the U.S. tolerated British development of a nuclear weapon, it did not support France’s efforts to achieve nuclear status. France did it anyway, largely out of a perception that Washington’s extended nuclear deterrent was not reliable. And while the U.S. and U.K. sought to control the spread of nuclear weapons, France actively worked to help other nations acquire the bomb.
In economic affairs, France has also long taken an independent track. For example, the Bretton Woods international monetary system established after World War II—where the U.S. dollar, as the “key currency,” was the only one pegged to the price of gold—came under increasing pressure during the 1960s. This was in no small part due to French efforts, as De Gaulle, dissatisfied with this system, regularly called for French dollar reserves to be converted to gold. Adding insult to injury, rather than simply leaving the converted gold in the “French vault” at the New York Federal Reserve Bank, De Gaulle insisted on it being brought back to Paris and held at the Banque de France.
Macron has a track record of following this Gaullist tradition. He famously referred to NATO as “brain dead” and called for the creation of a European army. That effort went nowhere, and with NATO now bolstered by the perceived threat from Russia, it seems unlikely to happen. Indeed, one could say that Finland and Sweden seeking immediate membership into NATO is a referendum on the very idea of Europe as an independent security provider, despite the existence of the EU’s mutual defense clause. Assuming that their membership goes through, the referendum’s result will be a resounding “Non.”
One consequence of Macron’s perceived waffling on Russia is that the questions and doubts about the EU’s ability to guarantee security will harden, particularly among the Eastern European member states that feel most threatened by Moscow. With Brexit having removed the U.K. from the EU, France now has the largest and most potent military in the bloc. If the EU is to have a notable and independent security role, France will be critical to establishing it and backing it up. But Macron’s response to the war in Ukraine could lead to a fissure in the union, one that divides Western European countries, like France, that view Russia as a threat to be managed and Eastern European countries that see Russia as a threat to be deterred.
France, along with Germany, has long been viewed as the “engine” of European integration, and it has historically been the strongest advocate of an autonomous European security capability. That makes the fallout from Macron’s diplomatic efforts even more unfortunate for those who hoped that Russia’s invasion of Ukraine would induce Europe to become a “security provider,” rather than a security consumer. To realize those ambitions, France may very well have to choose between its European aspirations and its independent streak.
