International Socialization in Europe: European Organizations, Political Conditionality and Democratic Change (Palgrave studies in European Union Politics)

International Socialization in Europe European Organizations, Political Conditionality and Democratic Change

Frank Schimmelfennig Stefan Engert and Heiko Knobel

Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics Edited by: Michelle Egan, American University, USA; Neill Nugent, Manchester Metropolitan University, UK; William Paterson, University of Birmingham, UK Editorial Board: Christopher Hill, Cambridge, UK; Simon Hix, London School of Economics, UK; Mark Pollack, Temple University, USA; Kalypso Nicolaïdis, Oxford UK; Morten Egeberg, University of Oslo, Norway; Amy Verdun, University of Victoria, Canada Palgrave Macmillan is delighted to announce the launch of a new book series on the European Union. Following on the sustained success of the acclaimed European Union Series, which essentially publishes research-based textbooks, Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics will publish research-driven monographs. The remit of the series is broadly defined, both in terms of subject and academic discipline. All topics of significance concerning the nature and operation of the European Union potentially fall within the scope of the series. The series is multidisciplinary to reflect the growing importance of the EU as a political and social phenomenon. We will welcome submissions from the areas of political studies, international relations, political economy, public and social policy, and sociology. Titles include: Ian Bache and Andrew Jordan (editors) THE EUROPEANIZATION OF BRITISH POLITICS Derek Beach and Colette Mazzucelli (editors) LEADERSHIP IN THE BIG BANGS OF EUROPEAN INTEGRATION Morten Egeberg (editor) MULTILEVEL UNION ADMINISTRATION The Transformation of Executive Politics in Europe Isabelle Garzon REFORMING THE COMMON AGRICULTURAL POLICY History of a Paradigm Change Heather Grabbe THE EU’S TRANSFORMATIVE POWER Katie Verlin Laatikainen and Karen E. Smith (editors) THE EUROPEAN UNION AND THE UNITED NATIONS Hartmut Mayer and Henri Vogt (editors) A RESPONSIBLE EUROPE? Ethical Foundations of EU External Affairs Lauren M. McLaren IDENTITY, INTERESTS AND ATTITUDES TO EUROPEAN INTEGRATION

Frank Schimmelfennig, Stefan Engert and Heiko Knobel INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIZATION IN EUROPE European Organizations, Political Conditionality and Democratic Change Justus Schönlau DRAFTING THE EU CHARTER Rights, Legitimacy and Process

Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics Series Standing Order ISBN 1–4039–9511–7 (hardback) and ISBN 1–4039–9512–5 (paperback) You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with your name and address, the title of the series and one of the ISBNs quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England

International Socialization in Europe European Organizations, Political Conditionality and Democratic Change Frank Schimmelfennig Professor of European Politics, ETH Zurich, Switzerland

Stefan Engert Assistant Professor of International Relations Ludwig-Maximilians-University, Munich, Germany

and

Heiko Knobel University of Technology, Darmstadt, Germany

© Frank Schimmelfennig, Stefan Engert and Heiko Knobel 2006 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2006 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–00528–0 ISBN-10: 0–230–00528–4 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Schimmelfennig, Frank, 1963– International socialization in Europe: European organizations, political conditionality, and democratic change / Frank Schimmelfennig, Stefan Engert and Heiko Knobel. p. cm. — (Palgrave studies in European Union politics) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–230–00528–4 (cloth) 1. Europe—Economic integration—Europe, Eastern. 2. Democracy— Europe, Eastern. I. Engert, Stefan. II. Knobel, Heiko. III. Title. IV. Series HC241.25.E852S35 2006 337.4047—dc22 10 15

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Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents List of Tables and Figures

viii

Preface and Acknowledgements

xi

List of Abbreviations

1

2

xiii

Introduction International socialization Strategic international socialization in Eastern Europe: the argument Case studies

1 2 5 12

Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community International socialization in the study of international institutions Socialization by bargaining Strategic action in international community Differential community effects in international socialization

16

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies International socialization in the Western international community A classification of socialization strategies The socialization strategies of Western community organizations Explaining socialization strategies Community effects Conditions of effectiveness

27

4

Research Design: Variables, Cases and Methods Variables Cases and methods

57 57 62

5

Belarus Conflict and rule violation International demands and conditions Domestic conditions Process and outcome Results

66 66 67 71 73 75

3

v

16 18 20 23

27 31 33 41 44 52

vi Contents

6

Yugoslavia (Serbia)
The FRY under Milos evic´ Domestic conditions Serbia after regime change: the DOS government Results

78 79 83 89 93

7

Turkey Conflict and norm violation International demands and conditions Domestic conditions Process, outcome, and domestic power costs Results

97 97 98 100 103 109

8

Slovakia Conflict and rule violation International demands and conditions
The Mec iar government (1994–98) Results The Dzurinda government (1998–2002) Conclusion

111 111 113 116 120 121 129

9

Romania Introduction Conflict and norm violation International demands and conditions 1989–96 1996–2000 2000–03 Results

132 132 132 133 135 140 145 149

10

Estonia Introduction Conflict and norm violation International demands and conditions Domestic conditions Process and outcome 1995–97 1997–99 1999–2001 Results

152 152 152 154 156 160 163 165 169 171

11

Latvia Introduction Conflict and norm violation International demands and conditions Domestic conditions

175 175 175 176 178

Contents vii

Process and outcome Results

182 194

12

Northern Cyprus Introduction Conflict and norm violation International demands and conditions Domestic conditions Process and outcome Results

199 199 200 200 202 207 216

13

Montenegro Introduction Conflict and rule violation International demands and conditions Domestic conditions Process and outcome Results

220 220 220 222 224 225 227

14

Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance Qualitative Comparative Analysis Truth table Analysis Extension Theoretical conclusions

230 230 231 236 237 240

15

Dynamics of Socialization Limits of comparative analysis Party constellations, membership incentives and international socialization Party constellations and socialization patterns Results

242 242

Conclusions Theoretical conclusions Policy recommendations

255 255 259

16

243 249 253

References

262

Index

283

List of Tables and Figures

Tables 1.1 2.1 2.2 3.1 3.2 3.3 4.1 5.1 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 6.6 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.4 8.5 9.1 9.2 9.3

Types of rule adoption IR institutionalism and international socialization Community effects on strategic action Classification of socialization strategies Socialization strategies of the community organizations Selection of Eastern European countries for EU and NATO membership Variables Conditions of international socialization in Belarus General overview of the FRY case study International conditions of international socialization in Yugoslavia Domestic conditions during the Miloševic´ government Conditions and compliance during the Miloševic´ government Domestic conditions during the DOS government Conditions and compliance during the DOS government International conditions of the international socialization of Turkey Party resonances in Turkey Domestic conditions in Turkey (1987–99) Conditions and compliance in Turkey (1987–99) Conditions and compliance in Turkey (1999–2002) Conditions and compliance in Turkey since 2002 International conditions of the international socialization of Slovakia
Domestic conditions during the Meciar government (1994–98)
Conditions and compliance during the Meciar government Domestic conditions during the Dzurinda government (1998–2002) Conditions and compliance in Slovakia External incentives in the international socialization of Romania Domestic conditions during the PDSR government Conditions and compliance during the PDSR government (1989–96) viii

4 16 21 33 40 46 61 72 78 81 83 88 89 93 99 100 102 103 105 107 116 116 120 121 129 134 136 140

List of Tables and Figures ix

9.4

Domestic conditions during the CDR government (1996–2000) 9.5 Conditions and compliance during the CDR government (1996–2000) 9.6 Domestic conditions under the second PSDR (PSD) government (2000–04) 9.7 Conditions and compliance in Romania (2000–04) 10.1 External incentives in the international socialization of Estonia 10.2 Legitimacy of international demands on Estonia 10.3 Resonance and identification in Estonia 10.4 Domestic costs of compliance in Estonia 10.5 Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1991–95) 10.6 Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1995–97), citizenship issues 10.7 Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1995–97), language regulations 10.8 Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1997–99), citizenship issues 10.9 Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1997–99), language regulations 10.10 Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1999–2001) 11.1 External incentives in the international socialization of Latvia 11.2 Resonance and identification among Latvian political parties 11.3 Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1991–93) 11.4 Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1993–95) 11.5 Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1995–97) 11.6 Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1997–99), statelessness 11.7 Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1997–99), language law 12.1 External conditions of international socialization in Northern Cyprus: Turkey 12.2 External conditions of international socialization in Northern Cyprus: TRNC 12.3 Domestic conditions in the TRNC 12.4 Domestic conditions in Turkey 12.5 Conditions and compliance in Cyprus (1987–99) 12.6 Conditions and compliance in Turkey (1999–2002) 12.7 Conditions and compliance in Cyprus (2002–03) 12.8 Conditions and compliance in Cyprus (2003–04) 13.1 External conditions of international socialization in Montenegro 13.2 Domestic conditions in Montenegro 13.3 Conditions and compliance in Montenegro

141 145 145 149 155 156 158 159 160 163 165 166 168 169 176 180 182 184 186 188 192 201 201 205 207 208 210 214 214 223 225 227

x List of Tables and Figures

14.1 14.2 14.3 14.4 15.1 16.1

Cases and conditional configurations Truth table QCA solutions QCA solution with ENDGAME variable Party constellations and predicted socialization patterns (1990–2002) Domestic constellations and democracy promotion

233 235 236 239 250 259

Figures 3.1 15.1 15.2 15.3

Reinforcement strategies Liberal party constellations and compliance Anti-liberal party constellations and compliance Mixed party constellations and compliance

32 251 251 252

Preface and Acknowledgements

For the past six years, we have been working on the theory and case studies that have finally found their way into this book. At times, we were able to work together at the same institution (and even in the same office) with common research funding. Most often, however, the shortage and finiteness of research money and the imponderability of academic careers forced us to collaborate and to keep the project alive from far away places and through periods of standstill as well as frantic activity. The only thing that is sure to accumulate during this long time is a long list of acknowledgments. From 2000 to 2003, the research project was based at Darmstadt University of Technology, Germany. For this period, we gratefully acknowledge funding by the German Research Association, institutional support by the Darmstadt Institute of Political Science, and – not least – personal support by Klaus Dieter Wolf, the Chair in International Relations. In 2003 and 2004, we benefited from additional funding by the Mannheim Centre for European Social Research, which was crucial for turning our research findings into a (partial) book manuscript. Finally, the interest of Alison Howson of Palgrave Macmillan in the manuscript (and a deadline) helped us clear the last hurdles. On the way, we benefited from comments and discussions at numerous conferences and workshops. We presented preliminary results at conferences of the International Studies Association, the European Union Studies Association, and the European Consortium for Political Research. We greatly benefited from discussions at the IDNET workshops on ‘International Socialization in Europe’ and a series of workshops on the ‘Europeanization of Central and Eastern Europe’. We also thank the Center for European Studies (Harvard University), the Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies (European University Institute, Florence), the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Societies (Cologne), the Mannheim Centre for European Social Research, the European Center at Miami University, and the Universities of Darmstadt, Erlangen, Heidelberg, Kaiserslautern, Munich, Speyer, Stuttgart in Germany as well as Södertörn University College (Sweden) for the opportunity to present our work and to receive critical feedback. In addition, we thank all the interviewees and those who supported our fieldwork at the Embassies of Turkey and Cyprus in Berlin, German Embassies, Foreign Ministries and Press and Information Offices in Brussels, Ankara, Nicosia, Lefkos¸ a, Tallinn and Riga. Numerous colleagues have commented on our work and provided inspiration. We are particularly grateful to Helmut Breitmeier, Martin Brusis, Jeffrey Checkel, Wade Jacoby, Judith Kelley, Thomas Risse, Peter Schlotter, Guido xi

xii Preface and Acknowledgements

Schwellnus, Ulrich Sedelmeier, Milada Vachudova, Klaus Dieter Wolf, and Michael Zürn. Preliminary and partial results of our work have been published in the European Journal of International Relations (2000), the Journal of Common Market Studies (2003), Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft (2003), and International Organization (2005) as well as in the edited volumes The Europeanization of Central and Eastern Europe (Cornell University Press 2005, edited by Frank Schimmelfennig and Ulrich Sedelmeier) and Socializing Democratic Norms (Palgrave Macmillan 2005, edited by Trine Flockhart), Transnational European Union (Routledge 2005, edited by Wolfram Kaiser and Pete Starie), and Die neuen Internationalen Beziehungen (Nomos 2003, edited by Gunther Hellmann, Klaus Dieter Wolf and Michael Zürn). We thank the editors and the anonymous reviewers of these publications for useful comments. Finally, we acknowledge research assistance by Sandra Egli (ETH Zurich) as well as Sandra Schwindenhammer, Katrin Schofeld, and Roland Bathon (TU Darmstadt), who assisted us in various stages of the project from the early collection of documents and literature to the final editing of the manuscript. Special thanks to Heike Jensen at Darmstadt University of Technology, and to Sabine Mahrwald for language editing. Last but not least, we are grateful that we have become and remained friends during the work on this project and book. FRANK SCHIMMELFENNIG Professor of European Politics ETH Zurich, Switzerland STEFAN ENGERT Assistant Professor of International Relations Ludwig-Maximilians-University, Munich, Germany HEIKO KNOBEL University of Technology, Darmstadt, Germany

List of Abbreviations AE AKP AMG ANAP ANO APD BBC BBF BDH BNS BSP CDR CE CEE CEEC CHP CL COP CP CSCE CSSD CTP CU DEHAP DGM DM DOS DP DPS-CG DS DSP DSS DÚ DYP EBRD EC ECRML ECSC EEC

Agence Europe Justice and Development Party Advisory and Monitoring Group Motherland Party Alliance of New Citizens Accession Partnership Document British Broadcasting Cooperation Bi-zonal Bi-communal Federation Peace and Democracy Movement Baltic News Service Bulgarian Socialist Party Democratic Convention of Romania Council of Europe Central and East European Central and East European countries Republican People’s Party Civil Liberties Coalition Party Centre Party Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe Czech Social Democratic Party Republican Turkish Party Customs Union Democratic People’s Party State Security Courts Ministers of Defence Democratic Opposition of Serbia Democratic Party (Turkey) Democratic Party of Socialists–Montenegro Democratic Party (Slovakia) Democratic Left Party Democratic Party of Serbia Democratic Union of Slovakia True Path Party European Bank for Reconstruction and Development European Community European Charter on Regional and Minority Languages European Coal and Steel Community European Economic Community xiii

xiv List of Abbreviations

EIDHR ENIP EP ER ESDP EU FAZ FCPNM FH/NIT Fidesz FM FP FP FR FRY FT FWA FYROM GC HADEP HCNM HDUR HDZ HE HZDS ICG ICTY IFOR IHT IMF IPP IR KDH KFOR KSS LDDP LDS LNNK LZS MDF MHP MSzP NACC NATO

European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights Estonian National Independence Party European Parliament Estonian Review European Security and Defence Policy European Union Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung Framework Convention on the Protection of National Minorities Freedom House: Nations in Transit (Yearly Report) Hungarian Civic Alliance Foreign Minister Virtue Party (Turkey) Fatherland Party (Estonia) Frankfurter Rundschau Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Financial Times Fischer Weltalmanach Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia Greek Cypriots People’s Democracy Party High Commissioner on National Minorities Hungarian Democrats Croatian Democratic Union Our Home is Estonia Movement for a Democratic Slovakia International Contact Group International War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague Implementation Force International Herald Tribune International Monetary Fund Individual Partnership Programme International Relations Christian Democratic Movement Kosovo Force Communist Party of Slovakia Lithuanian Democratic Labour Party Liberal Democracy of Slovenia Latvian National Independence Movement Latvian Agrarian Union Hungarian Democratic Forum Nationalist Action Party Hungarian Socialist Party North Atlantic Cooperation Council North Atlantic Treaty Organization

List of Abbreviations xv

NPAA NSC NSF ODIHR ODS OSCE PA PCA PDSR PfP PHARE PKK PM PNCTD PP PR PRM PSD PSDR PSM PUNR QCA RA RFE/RL RoC RP RP RTÜK SAA SAP SANU SDK SDKÚ SDL SDP SFRY SLD SLS SMK SNP SNS SOP SP SPS

National Programme for the Adoption of the Acquis National Security Council National Salvation Front Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights Civic Democratic Party Czech Republic Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Parliamentary Assembly (of the Council of Europe) Partnership and Cooperation Agreement Party of Social Democracy of Romania Partnership for Peace Pologne et Hongrie Aide pour la Réconstruction des Economies Kurdistan Workers’ Party Prime Minister Christian Democrat National Peasant Party Pro Patria Political Rights Party of Greater Romania Social Democratic Party Party of Social Democracy of Romania Socialist Labour Party Party of Romanian National Unity Qualitative Comparative Analysis Regional Approach Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty Republic of Cyprus Welfare Party (Turkey) Russian Party (Estonia) High Board of Radio and Television (Turkey) Stabilization and Association Agreement Stabilization and Association Process Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences Slovak Democratic Coalition Slovak Democratic and Christian Union Party of the Democratic Left Social Democrats Croatia Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Democratic Left Alliance Poland Slovenian People’s Party Party of the Hungarian Coalition Socialist People’s Party of Montenegro Slovak National Party Party of Civic Understanding Stability Pact Serbian Socialist People’s Party

xvi List of Abbreviations

SZ TACIS TAF TAZ TB TC TDN TEU TKP TRNC TS UBP UCK UDF UN UNMIK WCA YÖK ZRS

Süddeutsche Zeitung Technical Aid for the Commonwealth of Independent States Turkish Armed Forces Die Tageszeitung Fatherland and Freedom Union Latvia Turkish Cypriots Turkish Daily News Treaty on European Union Turkish Communist Party Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus Homeland Union/Conservatives Lithuania National Unity Party Kosovo Liberation Army Union of Democratic Forces Bulgaria United Nations United Nations Mission in Kosovo Wireless Communications Association Council of Higher Education of the Republic of Turkey Association of the Workers of Slovakia

1 Introduction

Since the end of the Cold War, Europe has been the stage of a large-scale project of international socialization. When Soviet communism collapsed, European international organizations proclaimed liberal democracy as the standard of legitimacy for the entire New Europe. They assumed the task of inducting the ex-communist Central and East European countries (CEECs) to this standard and devised a plethora of programmes and institutional arrangements to assist and advance their liberal-democratic transformation and consolidation, thereby to expand the Western international community. The purpose of this book is to analyze this process of international socialization and to explain its results. How and when have Western organizations had an impact on the transformation of Europe? Fifteen years later, international socialization has come a long way. Many former communist countries, most notably the central European and the Baltic countries, have quickly and rather smoothly adopted fundamental Western, liberal rules of state organization and conduct, and are widely regarded as consolidated democracies and market economies. They are full members of the European Union and NATO, the major Western organizations. The picture, however, is not uniform. Some countries, such as Bulgaria, Romania, and Slovakia, went through a rougher process of democratic transformation and consolidation characterized by stop-and-go processes or fluctuation between progress and reversals. Others have explicitly defied ‘Westernization’ for a long time (Serbia) or still do (Belarus). Most successor states of the Soviet Union appear to be on the way to consolidating autocratic or authoritarian rather than democratic systems. In this book, we explore the causal mechanisms and conditions that have produced these uneven outcomes and patterns of international socialization. Why have European organizations been successful in some countries but not in others? Together with the end of the Cold War, and in the context of the theoretical debate between rationalism and constructivism, ‘international socialization’ has re-emerged as a field of strong interest in International Relations. Rationalist theories of international institutions had largely neglected international 1

2 International Socialization in Europe

socialization as a relevant process in international politics or conceptualized international socialization as a power-driven process in an anarchical environment, devoid of any institutionalized normative content and downplaying international organizations as relevant socialization agencies. By contrast, the new constructivist research agenda emphasized the importance of international and transnational organizations, and theorized international socialization as a process driven by logics of ‘appropriateness’ and ‘arguing’ and leading to the internalization of international norms. It is the goal of the book to evaluate these theories in light of the European experience and make a theoretical and empirical contribution to this field. How can we adequately analyze and theorize international socialization in Europe?

International socialization We define international socialization as a process in which states are induced to adopt the constitutive rules of an international community.1 This definition implies several conceptual decisions and has some important theoretical and methodological implications. Process There is widespread agreement in the literature that socialization should be defined as a process, not an outcome. This agreement, however, still begs the question whether to define the process by its starting-point or by its end-point (see also Thies 2003: 544). Many authors tend to differentiate socialization from other processes by its results (above all, Alderson 2001: 417). Accordingly, we would know that a process has been a socialization process if and after states have adopted the constitutive rules of an international community. This ‘backward-looking’ perspective is problematic, however, because it does not allow us to analyze international socialization as an open-ended process. A failed socialization process would simply not count as socialization at all. Such a definition would thus prevent us from studying the conditions under which international socialization processes do or do not lead to rule adoption – and, thus, from answering the basic question of this study. For this reason, we analyze international socialization in a ‘forwardlooking’ perspective, as a process directed at or potentially leading to rule adoption by the target states. The observation of intentional or non-intentional inducements to adopt the constitutive rules of an international community is thus sufficient to characterize a process as a socialization process. States We define states as the relevant subjects of international socialization. This distinguishes our research from socialization studies focusing on attitude change in individuals. We are interested in the transformation of state-level rules rather than individual beliefs. Induced We choose this broad and open term to allow for different mechanisms of socialization that may range from coercion and bargaining all the

Introduction 3

way to persuasion and imitation. How states are induced to adopt rules is a matter of theory and empirical research and should not be predetermined by the definition of socialization. Constitutive rules The intersubjective, ideational content of socialization processes is variously defined as identities, beliefs, values, roles, norms, or rules. We focus on rules – understood as institutionalized norms or collective standards of proper behaviour.2 First, among these concepts, rules are probably most easily observed: they can be seen in legal texts and explicit demands by the socialization agency. Second, they can be understood as the institutional articulation of the other intersubjective structures: the community rules follow from the community’s collective identity, beliefs, values, and norms, and are part of the role expectations for community members. However, we propose to limit ‘socialization’ to those rules that define the identity of a given community, distinguish it from other communities, and characterize its members. Indeed, there is a strong conceptual link between ‘socialization’ and the attainment of membership in a community.3 Following the terminology of John Searle (1995), these rules can be termed ‘constitutive rules’: they ‘constitute’ an international community and, by adopting them, a state becomes a member of that community. By contrast, ‘regulative rules’ regulate behaviour within a society and among its members. An organization does not become a member of an international community just by following its regulative rules but only if it qualifies as a ‘state’ and fulfils the conditions of legitimate statehood that are constitutive of this interstate community. International community We define international community by three core characteristics: its ethos, its high interaction density, and its decentralization.4 The ethos refers to the constitutive values and norms that define the collective identity of the community – who ‘we’ are, what we stand for, and how we differ from other communities. The ethos also generates the constitutive rules that are the core content of international socialization processes. A high interaction density is indicated by frequent and relevant interactions in a multitude of policy areas and at various political levels. Moreover, membership in communities is permanent for all practical purposes. Finally, international, pluralistic communities lack a centralized rule making and rule enforcement authority. Rule adoption ‘Rule adoption’ describes the result of a successful process of socialization. A rule has been adopted if mechanisms internal to the state (domestic mechanisms) guarantee compliance. After adoption, external sanctions or other forms of international influence and inducement cease to be necessary to make a socialized state comply with the constitutive community rules.5 However, rule adoption should be regarded as a matter of degree. If, for instance, internal mechanisms are in place but not always activated in

4 International Socialization in Europe

case of a challenge to a community rule, or if activated do not always ensure compliance, we may speak of a partially successful socialization. Traditionally, ‘socialization’ is closely linked conceptually with ‘internalization’. Indeed, the concept of internalization has often been used to cover all forms of rule adoption by states or governments (Alderson 2001; Checkel 2005; see also Schimmelfennig 1994; 2000). However, the concept of internalization is best used more narrowly for the reflective and individual adoption of rules. This is also how the concept was first introduced to sociology in the ‘old’ institutionalism of Max Weber and Talcott Parsons (DiMaggio and Powell 1991a: 14–15). Only individuals can internalize rules, and if they do so, they follow the rules because they accept them as legitimate or appropriate. Yet individual internalization is not a sufficient condition of the successful socialization of corporate actors such as states6 – unless all individuals that make up a corporate actor internalize the rule. Otherwise, it must be guaranteed that the successfully socialized individuals regularly have their way in the organization. Neither is internalization a necessary condition. On the one hand, rule adoption may be the result of an unreflective process – if individuals adopt and follow a rule because they take it for granted.7 In this case, we speak of habitualization. On the other hand, rule adoption may occur at the level of collective structures and processes without individual change. In the case of institutionalization, international rules are adopted into national law and rule compliance is ensured by administrative implementation and judicial law enforcement – a mechanism that is external to the individuals but still internal to the corporate actor ‘state’. By contrast, in the case of imposition, successfully socialized domestic actors are reliably capable of preventing or sanctioning rule-violating behaviour on the basis of superior political power – for instance in parliamentary or electoral votes, or through the mobilization of the media and interest groups. Table 1.1 summarizes this categorization of different types of rule adoption. In our view, then, state socialization is not only conceptually separate from individual internalization – which may or may not be an intermediate result of international socialization processes – but also theoretically distinct from the postulate that ‘socialization implies that an agent switches from following a logic of consequences to a logic of appropriateness’ (Checkel 2005: 804). As long as institutional and political processes at the domestic level are powerful

Table 1.1

Types of rule adoption

Reflective/intentional Unreflective

Individual

Collective

Internalization Habitualization

Imposition Institutionalization

Introduction 5

enough to guarantee sustained compliance with the constitutive community rules by coercing or constraining individuals that oppose those rules, the state as such can be considered successfully socialized. Consider this analogy with the socialization of individuals: a successfully socialized individual is not required to eschew any temptations of norm violation. It is fully sufficient for effective socialization if this individual is able to combat non-conformist thoughts or suppress deviant desires on his own; that is, in the absence of external interventions or social sanctions.

Strategic international socialization in Eastern Europe: the argument We describe and explain international socialization in Eastern Europe as strategic action in an international community (Schimmelfennig 2000; 2003a; 2003b). International socialization in Europe is characterized by strategic behaviour of both the socialization agencies and their target states. However, this strategic behaviour takes place in, and is (differentially) constrained by, a highly institutionalized community environment. That is, in contrast to the traditional rationalist perspective, international organizations are indeed the main socialization agencies in Europe. Their substantive socialization goals are congruent with the collective identity and the constitutive values and norms of the Western international community, and they make an important contribution in ingraining these values and norms in the political systems of the target countries. In contrast to the constructivist perspective, however, we find that the process and outcomes of international socialization in post-Cold War Europe are better explained by instrumental and strategic behaviour. Material and political external incentives and domestic costs prove to be the most important conditions for an effective impact of international organizations on democratic consolidation. We thus demonstrate the relevance of rational-institutionalist theory for the study of international socialization. Formal institutionalization International socialization in Europe is about the expansion of the Western international community. The Western international community is based on liberal political norms. Liberal human rights and the liberal principles of social and political order that are derived from them – social pluralism, democracy, the rule of law, private property, and a market economy – are the constitutive norms of this community. Only states that have adopted these norms are considered legitimate members of the Western community. Correspondingly, the principles of liberal democracy constitute the basic substantive content of international socialization in Europe. In the European region of the Western international community, international socialization is a formally institutionalized process. The regional

6 International Socialization in Europe

intergovernmental organizations of the community serve as the main socialization agencies: the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the Council of Europe (CE), the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and the European Union (EU).8 These organizations have developed vastly different institutional set-ups and functional specializations but all of them define themselves as organizations of a European, liberal-democratic community of states. Most of the programmes and funds for the promotion of liberal rules are multilaterally coordinated and managed by them, and it is ultimately the community organizations that confer international recognition and legitimacy on outside states. Moreover, community membership has increasingly come to be defined as formal membership in the regional community organizations. Membership is subject to a formal procedure and, except for the OSCE, comes at the end of a graded process of increasing association with the regional organizations. After the end of the Cold War, these grades of association have become more differentiated than before and have served to structure the process of international socialization institutionally. The CE has introduced a special guest status for membership candidates; NATO created the North Atlantic (now: Euro-Atlantic) Cooperation Council, the Partnership for Peace Program, and the Membership Action Plan; and the EU has concluded trade and cooperation as well as association agreements with its candidates. Rule adoption is constantly and regularly assessed by the regional organizations. To move up the ladder, outside states have to adopt the constitutive rules of the community ever more deeply (in addition to adopting an increasing number of the regulative rules specific to each organization). In sum, international socialization in Europe is a formally institutionalized process carried out by international organizations and aimed at expanding the liberal core values and norms of the Western international community. In that respect, our argument concurs with the sociological-institutionalist analysis of international socialization. However, the actors involved in this process – both socialization agencies and their target states – act strategically on the basis of individual political cost-benefit calculations. Strategic socialization In the strategic perspective, reinforcement is the central socialization mechanism. It consists in rewarding the target states for the adoption of the community’s constitutive norms and punishing their violation (or lack of adoption). It is based on the expectation that, as time progresses, the actors subjected to reinforcement will stick to norm-conforming behaviour in order to avoid punishment and continue to be rewarded. Generally, the socialization agency engages in socialization efforts if the expected benefits of socialization exceed the expected costs and chooses the socialization strategy that promises to be (most) effective at the lowest cost. Correspondingly, the target state adopts the constitutive rules if the benefits of rule adoption exceed the costs.

Introduction 7

According to this theoretical perspective on socialization, the socialization strategies of the community organizations can be explained by their capabilities and utilities. Whereas the EU and NATO pursue exclusive socialization strategies and employ tangible incentives (or material reinforcement) in addition to persuasion and social incentives, the OSCE and the CE are more inclusive and almost entirely rely on persuasion and social reinforcement. According to the exclusive strategy, target states become members of the community organizations after the successful conclusion of the socialization process, whereas the inclusive strategy promotes the adoption of constitutive community rules within the organization. Tangible incentives consist in financial, technical, economic, or military assistance and the benefits of membership (such as decision-making rights in regional organizations, access to EU subsidies, or NATO military protection). Social incentives consist in international applause for liberal-democratic reforms, recognition of the target state as ‘legitimate’ and ‘one of us’ by the Western community and the gains in international and domestic status, prestige and reputation that come with this recognition. Finally, persuasion consists in the use of arguments rather than incentives to convince the target state of the appropriateness of the community rules. The EU and NATO have opted for an exclusive material reinforcement strategy because they produce material (economic and military) collective goods. On the one hand, these goods give them the capability to use material incentives and disincentives for socialization purposes. On the other hand, however, these goods make the admission of new members potentially costly, as they may reduce the consumption of the old members (in terms of subsidies or military protection) or increase their contribution to the organization’s expenses. For this reason, the EU and NATO have been reluctant to expand their membership. By contrast, the OSCE and the CE do not produce material collective goods to an important extent. Therefore their socialization strategies were limited to persuasion and social reinforcement, and they could afford to admit new members quickly. Moreover, among the variety of material reinforcement strategies, the EU and NATO opted for reinforcement by reward, commonly known as ‘conditionality’. In reinforcement by reward, the socialization agency offers the target states positive incentives. These incentives consist in assistance, institutional ties and, ultimately, membership – on the condition that the target states adopt the community’s constitutive norms. If a state rejects or fails to adopt the rules, the socialization agency simply withholds the reward. It does not, however, inflict additional costs on the state in order to coerce it into rule conformance (‘reinforcement by punishment’); nor does it offer additional assistance to increase the incentive for the adoption of the community rules (‘reinforcement by support’). Since the Western international community’s constitutive rules mainly consist in liberal political norms, the corresponding strategy was political conditionality.

8 International Socialization in Europe

We explain this choice by the fact that, under the prevailing international conditions in Europe, reinforcement by reward has been the most efficient reinforcement strategy for the West. These international conditions consist in asymmetrical but low interdependence: the West’s power resources vis-à-vis the candidate states are vastly superior and its vulnerability towards problems originating in these countries is generally low. Due to its superior power, the West could expect reinforcement to work effectively; but under the condition of low vulnerability, the member states were usually not willing to pay the additional costs or incur the additional risks of reinforcement by punishment or support if political conditionality failed. Strategic action under conditions of asymmetrical resources and unequal bargaining power accounts for only part of the story, however. We further argue that the strategic calculations and actions of the socialization agencies (as well as their superior bargaining power vis-à-vis the Eastern candidates) are in four ways constrained by the community context in which the agencies operate. 1 Legitimate conditions They are constrained in the choice of the conditions they set as prerequisites for recognition, assistance, and membership. The only legitimate conditions are those based on the constitutive liberal norms of the Western international community. Conversely, conditionality based on economic performance, military capacity, or religious beliefs would not be admissible although it may be in the interest of the member states and the community organizations. 2 Impartial treatment They have to treat all European states equally and impartially on the basis of the liberal political conditions and cannot legitimately set looser conditions for countries they may prefer as partners and members out of self-interest – or discriminate against countries they may want to keep out. 3 Intensity of rule violations The more massively fundamental liberal rules are violated in outside states, the more difficult it becomes for the community organizations and members to sustain a policy of reinforcement by reward and not to intervene proactively to correct the situation. For this reason, the Western community ultimately shifted to reinforcement by punishment in Bosnia and Kosovo. 4 Consistency of enlargement practice When outside states have adopted the constitutive rules of the community and thus qualify as community members, the regional organizations cannot legitimately retreat from their promise of membership – even if enlargement involves net material costs for them. We show that the promotion of liberal norms has indeed been an omnipresent feature of the relations between the community organizations and the Eastern European target states. Whereas the community organizations have not

Introduction 9

generally treated the target states impartially on the basis of the community rules at the lower levels of institutional relationships (trade and cooperation agreements and association agreements without a membership perspective), the process has become the more normatively consistent and impartial, the more it approached the question of membership in the EU and NATO. The adoption of fundamental liberal community rules has been a necessary and – with a short time lag – also sufficient condition of opening accession negotiations with these community organizations. Strategic adaptation Once the socialization agency has chosen the rewards to be offered, the effectiveness of reinforcement depends on the political cost-benefit calculations of the target governments. We assume that, ahead of the regional organization’s conditional offer of rewards, the degree of rule adoption in the target state corresponds to a ‘domestic equilibrium’ given governmental and societal preferences and power. The rewards offered by the regional organization upset this equilibrium by increasing the marginal international benefits of norm conformance. The target government then fulfils the regional organization’s conditions to the degree that the domestic political costs of adaptation are outweighed by the benefits of the international rewards. Correspondingly, given that international rewards are constant under the ‘impartial-treatment’ constraint of the community, governments are the more likely to adopt the community norms, the lower their domestic political costs (of preserving power). Community constraints on the outside states are at a lower level than on the member states. Outside states are not as institutionally committed to the community ethos as the member states and are less involved in the tightly knit network of contacts and interactions of the community. If they were, socialization would not be necessary. Rather, it is the purpose of international socialization as a community-building process to spread the constitutive values and norms of the community to outside states, and to increase interaction density, in the first place. As a result, the community effects on strategic action are only fully ‘operative’ once socialization is far advanced. In line with this expectation, we find, first, that social incentives and disincentives have generally not been an effective instrument of international socialization. Those organizations that relied mainly on social influence, the OSCE and the CE, have been unable to overcome resistance to the community norms in the target states. Only when their conditions were taken up by NATO and the EU and linked to the material and political rewards of membership, could this resistance be broken. Second, the transnational channel of international socialization, in which community norms are transmitted via domestic societal actors to the target state, proved ineffective as well. On the one hand, we attribute this finding to the prevailing domestic structure of weak societies in the target countries: even if the preferences of societal actors

10 International Socialization in Europe

are in favour of norm conformance, they are too fragmented and weak to force governments to comply. On the other hand, we explain it by electoral volatility. Voters do not consistently reward reform-oriented political forces but are motivated by immediate concerns of personal security and welfare. As a result, when dissatisfied with current conditions, they turn against reformminded and reform-adverse governments alike. Under which conditions is international socialization in Europe effective then? Our comparative analysis shows that credible EU (and, for some countries, NATO) membership incentives and low domestic political adaptation costs are individually necessary and jointly sufficient conditions of compliance. There is only one exception: in the final phases of negotiations to open and conclude accession negotiations, credible membership incentives also work in conjunction with a Western or European identity of the target government – even if compliance threatens its survival. In contrast, other factors emphasized by constructivist analyses of international socialization, such as the international legitimacy and the domestic resonance of norms, were not systematically related to the effectiveness of international socialization. In the longer run, given the condition of electoral volatility, the prospects for socialization do not only depend on the political cost-benefit calculations of the government of the day but on those of potential future governments as well. The set of potential future governments depends in turn on the party constellation in the target state – more precisely, on the major parties, which are able to form a government or will be dominant in any feasible coalition government. In countries with a liberal party constellation, socialization is quick and smooth, and results in high compliance and stable rule adoption because changes in government invariably bring parties to power that are committed to Western integration and liberal democracy. By contrast, in mixed-constellation countries, there is no elite consensus on liberal democratic reform and Western integration. Mirroring the alternation between reform-oriented and reformadverse governments, the socialization process resembles a stop-and-go or up-and-down pattern. Over time, however, these countries may still be successfully socialized because each reform-oriented government institutionalizes changes and deepens Western integration, thereby increasing the costs of future political reversals and forcing the reform-adverse opposition to adapt their political programmes. Finally, in countries with an anti-liberal party constellation, in which all major parties base their legitimacy on nationalist, populist, and/or communist ideologies and authoritarian practices, Western socialization efforts have little impact. Thus, it is the variation in the constellation of major parties among the target states that produces the uneven socialization process, which we seek to explain in this book. Our analysis suggests that the impact of international organizations on the democratic development and consolidation in Eastern Europe depends on external incentives and domestic conditions. Anything short of credible

Introduction 11

EU and NATO membership conditionality proved insufficient to overcome systematic non-compliance in the target states. Nevertheless, in countries with a liberal party-constellation, membership conditionality has been largely redundant. Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovenia and Hungary had been well on the way towards democratic consolidation before the EU or NATO had made their decision to enlarge and set the political conditions for opening accession negotiations. In addition, the endogenous forces for liberal democracy in these countries were so dominant that they would most likely have continued on the path to democratic consolidation in the absence of political conditionality. At the other extreme of the political spectrum, political conditionality was not strong enough to produce democratic change in the autocratic or authoritarian countries of the region (such as Belarus, Russia, Ukraine and Serbia under Miloševic´). For the ruling elites of these countries, the costs of political adaptation to Western conditions were always high because compliance would have affected their core practices of power preservation (for instance, control of the media, manipulation of elections, and concentration of competences in the executive). Consequently, domestic power concerns clearly dominated the external incentives of European integration. The impact of political conditionality has been most significant in those CEECs that were situated between these extremes. In the forerunner democracies, the EU and NATO furthered compliance with those rules that are not generally shared by liberal parties. In Central and Eastern Europe, this has mainly been the case with minority protection. Most visibly in the Baltic countries, accession conditionality strengthened moderate forces in the government and built up sufficient pressure for parliaments to pass contested minority legislation. Most importantly, however, political conditionality has had a major impact in the ‘mixed-constellation countries’. First, EU and NATO accession conditionality helped to consolidate the liberal forces there. Even though the Western organizations did not have a decisive influence on elections, and the defeat of anti-liberal parties in Slovakia, Romania, Bulgaria, Croatia, and Serbia between 1996 and 2000 is best explained by domestic factors, political conditionality motivated the often fragmented democratic opposition to join forces for the elections and, after their victory, to preserve coalition discipline. Second, when liberal parties were in government, the liberal domestic changes they institutionalized led to progress in Western integration, and the benefits of Western integration subsequently raised the stakes in democratic consolidation and increased the costs of any future reversal. Populist parties therefore adapted their political goals and made them compatible with Western community norms in order to preserve the achieved benefits of integration. When they returned to power, they stayed the course of reform and integration. Thus, the lock-in effects of Western integration create path-dependency across

12 International Socialization in Europe

changes in government and, eventually, change the party constellation from mixed to liberal.

Case studies The findings of the book are to a great extent based on detailed case studies, which trace the impact of European regional organizations on democratic transformation in nine countries from the early 1990s to 2004: Belarus, Cyprus, Estonia, Latvia, Montenegro, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, and Turkey. These cases represent a great variety of norm violations, domestic and international contexts, as well as international norm promotion efforts, and thus allow us to draw general conclusions on the conditions and mechanisms of international socialization in the new Europe. The conditions we systematically test are: the size and credibility of external incentives and the size of domestic power costs of compliance (rationalist conditions), and the identification of the target governments with the Western international community as well as the legitimacy and domestic resonance of the community rules (constructivist conditions). Belarus is our negative benchmark case. Here, the systematic violation of European political norms began when President Lukashenka changed the constitution in 1996 and established an autocratic regime. Given the absence of a credible membership perspective, a Western identity of the political elite, and domestic resonance of liberal norms – and given high costs of political change – the conditions of compliance were unfavourable across the board. Diverse international efforts to promote democratic norms ranging from shunning and sanctioning of the Lukashenka regime to constructive engagement through the OSCE’s mission in the country have therefore not produced compliance. During the Miloševic´ regime (until 2000), the conditions of socialization have been equally unfavourable in Serbia. Domestic power costs of compliance were high, identification with the Western international community and the domestic resonance of Western norms were generally low. Despite varying incentives and strategies, the Miloševic´ regime did not comply either with the democracy conditions of the EU’s Regional Approach and Stability Pact nor with the demands of the international community regarding Kosovo. After the end of the Miloševic´ regime, both the conditions and norm conformance improved. In the case of cooperation with the International War Crimes Tribunal, however, there was conflict between the federal government under President Koštunica and the Serbian government under Prime Minister Djindjic´, which we attribute to different domestic adoption costs. Overall, the case study shows the relevance of domestic political costs for the success of international socialization. In the case of Turkey, the EU demanded, among other issues, the nondiscrimination of the Kurdish minority and the civil control of the military

Introduction 13

as conditions for the opening of accession negotiations. The identification of the Turkish elites with the West was strong from the beginning but not sufficient to induce the adoption of Western political norms. The credible membership perspective for Turkey accorded in 1999 brought new momentum but did not immediately result in compliance. Only the parliamentary elections of 2002 – which removed the Kemalist parties from power, led to a single-party government of the moderate Islamist AKP, and resulted in low domestic adoption costs and high resonance – finally brought about compliance on all three issues. Whereas a credible membership perspective was a necessary impetus to political reform, it was sufficient only in conjunction with the new government’s low political costs of adaptation (and higher norm resonance). In Romania, international demands focused on two issues: general liberal democratic norms and rights for the Hungarian minority. In both cases, conditions improved over time: first, when the post-communist Iliescu government developed a Western identification in the first half of the 1990s; then with a credible membership perspective and a change in government in the second half of the 1990s. Even when Iliescu returned to power in 2000 and resonance was reduced again, the government continued to comply. The case of Romania thus demonstrates the lock-in effect of a credible membership perspective. In Slovakia, the contentious issues were the same as in Romania. Although the country had a credible EU and NATO membership perspective from the start, during the Meciar government (1994–98), which included parties of the extreme left and right alongside with the populist HZDS, high domestic power costs and a lack of identification and resonance resulted in non-compliance. This changed completely after the parliamentary elections of 1998, when a broad pro-democratic and pro-European coalition under Prime Minister Dzurinda came to power. Whereas Slovakia was denied accession negotiations with the EU and NATO in 1997, it was admitted to both organizations in 2004. More than any other case study, the Slovak case shows that a credible membership perspective is not a sufficient condition of successful political conditionality. In Estonia and Latvia, international demands focused on three issues linked to the treatment of the large Russian-speaking minority in the country: the gradual granting of citizenship to the minority, automatic citizenship for minority children, and the public use of the Russian language. Whereas identification with the West and Europe was constantly high in Estonia, the resonance of the minority rights varied depending on the composition of the government (strength of nationalist parties). In Latvia, resonance was lower for the, on average, more nationalist Latvian coalition governments. Both countries generally complied with the international demands, originally formulated by the OSCE’s High Commissioner for National Minorities, only after they were linked to EU and NATO membership. The cases thus emphasize

14 International Socialization in Europe

the insufficiency of social incentives (even if identification is strong) and the crucial relevance of tangible incentives. In the case of Cyprus, the conflict consists in the division of the island, since the Turkish invasion of 1974, into the (internationally recognized) Republic of Cyprus in the South and the (unrecognized) Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC). The norm violation resulted from the Turkish rejection of a federative solution and a negotiated settlement to unify the island, a long-time demand by both the United Nations and the EU. There are two target governments in this case: the government of Turkey and the government of the TRNC. For the Turkish government, the conditions for compliance have improved over time. Turkey was offered a credible EU membership perspective in 1999. In 2002, the AKP with its flexible, nonideological position on Northern Cyprus won the elections. Finally, even the Turkish military acquiesced in a federative solution. This acquiescence removed the major item of domestic power costs and led to compliance in 2003. By contrast, conditions remained basically constant on the Turkish Cypriot side but, ahead of the 2004 referendum on the unification of Cyprus, it complied with the UN Peace Plan nevertheless. On the other hand, EU membership incentives did not work in making the Greek side accept the UN Peace Plan. Knowing that accession of the Republic of Cyprus (with or without unification with the North) was guaranteed, the Greek Cypriots could safely reject any compromise. The case thus also demonstrates the crucial importance of credible EU threats to deny membership in case of non-compliance. Finally, in Montenegro, which had become de facto independent from Yugoslavia in the final years of the Miloševic´ regime, the EU exercised pressure on the government of Milo Djukanovic´ to refrain from declaring formal independence and to agree to a new federation of Serbia and Montenegro. After the EU had linked compliance with substantial financial subsidies and a membership perspective, the Montenegrin government complied in 2002 despite a rift in the governing coalition. The book is divided into two major parts. Chapters 2 to 4 are dedicated to theory. Here, we develop our approach of ‘strategic action in international communities’ and apply it to international socialization in Eastern Europe. We describe, classify, and explain the socialization strategies of the main community organizations and develop hypotheses about their effectiveness. In the second and much larger part (Chapters 5 to 13), we present our case studies of conditionality and compliance in problematic target countries. Each case study describes the relevant norm violations in the target country, analyzes the main conditions of compliance postulated by rationalist and constructivist theories of international socialization, and then traces the impact of European international organizations on domestic change over time. In the three final chapters (Chapters 14 to 16), we conduct a comparative analysis of the case studies and offer some conclusions for theory and policy.

Introduction 15

Notes 1 For similar definitions of international socialization, see Alderson (2001: 417); Ikenberry and Kupchan (1990: 289); Risse and Sikkink (1999: 11); Schimmelfennig (2000: 111–12). For a more detailed discussion of conceptual and theoretical issues, see Schimmelfennig (2003c; 2005b). 2 See, for example, Jepperson, Wendt and Katzenstein (1996: 54). For the socialization literature, see, for example, Finnemore and Sikkink (1998); Forschungsgruppe Menschenrechte (1998: 7). 3 See, for example, Hurrelmann and Ulich (1991); Johnston (2001: 494); Risse and Sikkink (1999: 11); Schimmelfennig (1994: 335–7). 4 See the concept of ‘pluralistic security community’ developed by Deutsch et al. (1957). 5 On this distinctive feature of socialization, see also Axelrod (1986: 1104). 6 See also Thies (2003) for a critique of such a conceptualization of socialization. 7 This follows from a ‘cognitive’ conception of institutions (Scott 1995: 44; cf. Powell and DiMaggio 1991). 8 For the early 1990s, the correct name for the OSCE was Conference for the Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE); and the EU was still named the European Community (EC). For general statements on these organizations, we use OSCE and EU. For statements relating to the early 1990s specifically, we use CSCE and EC.

2 Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community

International socialization in the study of international institutions The current state of theorizing about international socialization is mainly characterized by the rationalist–constructivist debate in International Relations. Both rationalist and sociological institutionalisms have developed specific assumptions about international socialization, which can be conceptualized as opposing ideal-types (Table 2.1). In the perspective of rationalist institutionalism, the international system constitutes a ‘technical environment’ for state action, in which international socialization either has no place at all or is about the adoption of factual rules; that is, stable patterns of behaviour (such as the balance of power) or a hegemonic order.1 The socialization process is characterized by strategic Table 2.1

IR institutionalism and international socialization

Environment

Socialization agency Socialization process Socialization content

Agency Mechanism Outcome

Rationalist institutionalism

Sociological institutionalism

Technical environment

Institutional and cultural environment International community International organizations Formally institutionalized Rule-based Normative rules Constitutive rules of an international community

International system None or hegemonic power Informal Power-based Factual rules Constitutive rules of a hegemonic order Strategic action Extrinsic: incentives, coercion Behavioural change

16

Appropriate action Intrinsic: persuasion, imitation Change of identities and desires

Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community 17

action and extrinsic learning. Target states are induced to adopt international rules through the use of incentives or coercion. The typical outcome is behavioural change without identity and interest change. By contrast, in the constructivist perspective, international relations are embedded in an institutional and cultural environment – an international community.2 In this context, international socialization is an institutionalized policy, carried out by international organizations, to transmit the constitutive normative rules of the international community to individual states (see, for example, Barnett and Finnemore 1999; Finnemore 1996). International socialization is a process of appropriate action and intrinsic learning. The socialization agency persuades the target states to adopt the rules or acts as a role model which the target states imitate. As a result, individuals internalize the community rules and change their identities and interests accordingly (see Checkel 2001; Risse, Ropp and Sikkink 1999). The standard descriptions of rationalist and constructivist institutionalism thus make opposite connections between assumptions about the actors’ environment, on the one hand, and logics of action, on the other. In other words, they construct mutually exclusive environment-agency links. Whereas rationalist institutionalism in International Relations assumes strategic action in a material or technical environment (with secondary, weak institutions), constructivists typically posit appropriate action in a cultural or community environment (with primary, strong institutions). There is, however, no logically or theoretically necessary connection between the assumptions of a community environment and of appropriate action.3 Such a connection would only follow from a strong form of structuralism, which assumes that the properties, dispositions, and behaviours of actors can be reduced to their positions and roles in the social structure and to rules in their social environment. The more one departs from this strong structuralist assumption, the looser the connection becomes. In general, we may hold the assumption of a community environment constant while allowing logics of action to vary. Whether actors act appropriately or instrumentally in a community environment, is a question for theory construction and empirical research. In addition, there are plausible empirical reasons for disentangling international community environments from appropriate action. They can be summarized as the primacy of subsystemic, ‘national’ political influences. First, political actors on the international scene are generally socialized politically in national settings. This is where they receive most of their education, are introduced to political institutions and behaviours, and make their first political experiences. Thus, even if they behave according to the logic of appropriateness, the norms they follow and the roles they enact will primarily be nationally defined. Second, it is in national settings that the most important and powerful political offices are allocated (for example, through elections or governmental appointments). This also applies to offices in

18 International Socialization in Europe

international organizations. Therefore, political actors will usually be more responsive to domestic influences, demands, and pressures than to international norms and obligations. This proposition is generally corroborated by empirical studies of the international socialization of individual officials in European organizations.4 Third, for many political actors (such as in nonWestern or weak states), internationally institutionalized values and norms do not reflect their own values and norms but those of other, more powerful states. For all these reasons, it is plausible to assume that political actors do not take the cultural values and norms institutionalized in their international environment for granted or internalize them but rather regard them as external constraints on, or resources for, domestically motivated action, and that they behave expediently and strategically toward them. Our theoretical approach to the study of international socialization thus synthesizes elements of the ideal-types of rationalist and sociological institutionalism by combining the assumptions of an international community environment and of strategic action: hence, strategic action in international community (Schimmelfennig 2003b: 159–63). We share with sociological institutionalism the assumptions of an institutional and cultural international environment, of the normative content of international socialization, and of strong international organizations as socialization agencies. More than anywhere else, these assumptions are plausible in the highly institutionalized regional system of Europe. We take issue, however, with the constructivist emphasis on the logic of appropriateness. Rather, we share basic assumptions of rationalist institutionalism: first, that the actors involved in international socialization processes act strategically on the basis of self-defined and self-interested preferences to achieve an outcome that maximizes their utility and, second, that they will not change their identity or learn and internalize new, ‘appropriate’ preferences as a result of the interaction. In order to theorize further whether and how an international community environment affects strategic action in international socialization, we start from a pure rationalist bargaining approach.

Socialization by bargaining In the rationalist perspective, international socialization is fundamentally conceived as a bargaining process driven by political self-interest and costbenefit calculations. In its simplest form, this process takes place between two actors, the socialization agency and the target states. Most fundamentally, it is assumed that both the international socialization agency and the target state are motivated by self-interested political preferences, which are exogenous to the international socialization process. We assume these political preferences to be material and power-oriented. They consist in security and welfare benefits as well as the desire to attain and maintain political power.

Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community 19

The socialization agency and the target state regard international socialization as an instrument for furthering their political self-interest. They do not take the norms and rules of the community for granted but generally confront them as external institutional facts that constrain or promote certain behaviours through the differential allocation of costs and benefits. Socialization agencies are interested in inducing states to adopt their constitutive rules to the extent that this rule transfer furthers the community’s security, welfare, or power. Target states equally adopt the community rules to the extent that adoption increases their political utility. In the case of international socialization in the Western community, this means that neither the Western organizations nor their target states are conceived as interested in human rights and democracy per se but see the promotion and adoption of these norms as a means to improve their own security, welfare, or power. Generally, international communities can be assumed to have a positive interest in international socialization. First, the international dissemination of their basic political values and norms demonstrates their viability and legitimacy, and removes or reduces external alternatives to their existing political systems. Second, relations with countries that share the international community’s basic values and norms are likely to be less conflictladen and more prone to beneficial cooperation than those with other countries. In the case of the Western international community, a successful international socialization of Eastern Europe would help to secure the West’s victory in the Cold War and the ensuing gains in legitimacy for its liberal values and norms. In addition, it would help to build a ‘security community’ of stable peace with consolidated liberal democracies in its immediate neighbourhood and expand markets for goods, labour and investments. By contrast, the positive utility for target state governments cannot be taken for granted. If the adoption of international community rules was in line with government preferences or dominant domestic political demand, international socialization would be unproblematic but also largely redundant: the government would adopt the rules even in the absence of specific socialization activities by the community agencies. International socialization activities are more relevant when government preferences and domestic demand contradict community rules at least to some extent. Then, however, the success of international socialization will depend on extrinsic incentives provided by the international community that are strong enough to overcome opposition against the community rules. In addition, international socialization is subject to considerations of costefficiency. The higher the material benefits that the international community expects from a target state’s adoption of the community rules, or the higher the political opportunity costs of non-socialization for the international community, the higher also are the costs that the socialization agency is willing to bear to socialize the target state. It is not the extent to which democratic and human rights norms are violated by outsider states that determines the

20 International Socialization in Europe

socialization efforts but the extent to which these violations have detrimental material consequences for the community – such as refugee flows or the breakdown of trade with the target state. In addition, the community will use the least costly means available to achieve rule adoption. The target state adopts international rules if adoption increases its political utility and on the condition that the costs of adoption are less than the material and power benefits. In the strategic perspective, socialization works through reinforcement.5 The international socialization agency rewards rule adoption and punishes rule violation, and the target state conforms to the community rules in order to avoid punishment and to gain rewards. The relevant rewards and punishments are those that affect the political self-interest of the target state (government), its security and welfare, and its chance to preserve and increase its power. The ability of the international socialization agency to reward and punish depends on its bargaining power, and its bargaining power depends on relevant and credible political threats and promises. In the case of rewarding, the agency must be able to offer the target state important political benefits that it could not attain otherwise (or only at a considerably higher cost), and the target state must be certain that it will receive the reward if it adopts the community rules. This is likely, for instance, if the reward comes at a low price for the socialization agency and if community actors agree on the conditions and the size of the rewards. In the case of punishing, the same must be true for threats. Reinforcement will work best if the punishment hurts the target state severely but is cheap for the socialization agency to implement. The long-term success of international socialization by reinforcement depends initially on a durable asymmetry of bargaining power between the international community and the target state. The target state will most likely start and continue a process of rule adoption if community membership is in its fundamental interest and if it perceives the community’s ability to reward and punish as given for the foreseeable future. In the course of a successful socialization process, international bargaining power will be replaced by domestic enforcement mechanisms that guarantee rule compliance without immediate international threats and promises.

Strategic action in international community Acting in a community environment constrains the pure material bargaining process outlined above. It means that social interactions and outcomes are not only dependent on the constellation of actor preferences, their bargaining power, and their cost-benefit calculations. Rather, the structural features of international community – above all the community ethos and the high interaction density – restrict the pursuit of self-interest and constrain the use of material bargaining power. The community ethos defines a standard of legitimacy that community members have to take into account if they

Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community 21 Table 2.2

Action Resources Outcome

Community effects on strategic action Material environment →

Community environment

Bargaining → Material bargaining power → Power-based enforcement →

Rhetorical action Legitimacy Social influence

are to achieve their political goals, and the high interaction density provides for soft, informal, or social mechanisms of compliance, which can compensate for the absence of hierarchical, centralized rule enforcement in international communities. In particular, a community environment affects interaction and collective outcomes through three main mechanisms: rhetorical action, legitimization, and social influence (see Table 2.2). Rhetorical action. The community ethos produces arguments about the legitimacy of preferences and policies. Actors are able – and forced – to argue and justify their preferences on the basis of the community ethos. They move beyond the strategic exchange of information, threats and promises that is characteristic of bargaining and engage in rhetorical action, the strategic use of the community ethos (Schimmelfennig 2003a: 194–225). They choose arguments based on the ethos to strengthen the legitimacy of their own goals against the claims and arguments of their opponents. Legitimation. The community ethos is both a resource of support for legitimate actions and a constraint that imposes costs on illegitimate actions. It adds legitimacy to, and thus strengthens the bargaining power of those actors that pursue preferences in line with, although not necessarily inspired by the community ethos, and it stigmatizes those actors who pursue interests that violate the ethos. Social influence. Finally, the high interaction density and permanence of the community creates favourable conditions for effective social influence. Above all, it forces actors to be concerned about their image as a community member. Their image suffers if they are caught violating the community ethos or using it opportunistically. As a result, their influence in the community will suffer as well. Thus, community members can be shamed and shunned into conformity with their commitment to the community ethos – even if the ethos creates obligations that contradict their egoistic policy preferences. In sum, thanks to the effects of arguing, legitimation, and social influence, a community environment has the potential to modify the collective outcome that would have resulted from the constellation of preferences and bargaining power alone. We expect, however, that the strength of community effects on strategic action vary according to several context conditions.

22 International Socialization in Europe

Above all, community effects vary between community insiders and outsiders. First, without a common ethos, there is no common reference point on which arguments can be based; without such a common standard, the relative validity of controversial or competing legitimacy claims cannot be adjudicated. As a consequence, superior material bargaining power will prevail in relations between community insiders and outsiders, and shape the collective interaction outcomes. Second, even if a common ethos existed, actors would be less concerned about their image and standing in a non-permanent, low-density interactive setting. Not only is there a lesser likelihood that the inconsistent or opportunistic use of community values and norms will be detected, even if this were detected, the sanctioning power of the community is weakened: shaming and shunning is less painful where actors interact rarely or with short time horizons. But even among community insiders, community effects will vary across issues and policy areas: Constitutive rules. Obviously, the more constitutive or constitutional a policy issue is, the more it involves fundamental questions of community purpose and the easier it is for interested actors to bring in questions of legitimacy, to frame it as an issue of community identity that cannot be left to the interplay of self-interest and bargaining power, and to justify their preferences and actions on the grounds of community principles. Questions of constitution-making, membership, democracy, and human rights will therefore engender a more ‘value-laden’ policy process than issues of technical regulation, budget planning, or subsidy distribution. Salience. Within the domain of constitutive politics, we expect community effects to increase with the salience of the problem. We define salience as the perceived discrepancy between ‘ought’ and ‘is’; that is, the community ethos and political reality.6 Thus, in a liberal international community, the more massively and systematically the liberal values and norms are challenged or violated by a member state, the regional organization, or an outsider state, the more salient the issue becomes and the stronger is the normative pressure on the actors to take action and redress the situation.7 Legitimacy. Even among issues that are constitutive and highly salient, community effects may vary depending on the norms in question. According to Thomas Franck, the degree to which an international rule ‘will exert a strong pull on states to comply’ depends on four properties, which account for its legitimacy: determinacy, symbolic validation, coherence in practice, and adherence to a norm hierarchy (Franck 1990: 49). To the extent that the relevant community norm possesses these qualities, it becomes difficult for the shamed community members to neglect or rhetorically circumvent its practical implications (cf. Shannon 2000: 294).

Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community 23

Resonance. Resonance is a major explanatory factor in studies of the domestic impact of international norms in general (see, for example, Checkel 1997; 1999; Cortell and Davis 2000). As a condition of effective social influence, it means that those community rules that resonate most strongly with domestically held and institutionalized norms will create the strongest sense of obligation on the community members when appealed to in the arguing and social influence process.

Differential community effects in international socialization How does the international community context affect strategic action in international socialization? How do community effects modify the impact of material and power-oriented political preferences, instrumental thinking, cost-benefit calculations, and bargaining power on the process and outcomes of international socialization? We assume that there will be a relevant impact but that it will affect the actors involved in international socialization differentially. International socialization is a process involving community insiders and outsiders; as community insiders act in a community context, they will be more strongly impacted by community effects than outsiders. Thus, the community effects, and the conditions of their strength, will operate in the case of the community insiders (the socialization agency) but not, or much less so, in the case of the target states. These differential community effects create a ‘paradox of strength’. Whereas the international community usually wields superior bargaining power vis-à-vis outsider states, it is constrained in the pursuit of its political selfinterest and the exercise of its power and autonomy by requirements of legitimacy and normative consistency. Through the use of rhetorical action and social influence, the target states as well as interested community insiders are able to induce the socialization agency to act according to the normative standards of the community. In contrast, the materially less powerful target states not only benefit from this normative taming of the community’s bargaining power but are free from such normative and social constraints themselves. Generally, international socialization should be a policy with strong community effects on the socialization agency. By definition, it concerns constitutive rules. As fundamental community norms, these rules not only enjoy high and undisputed legitimacy but usually also high resonance with the member states. In addition, the violation of these constitutive rules is an issue of high salience for the community members. Thus, all conditions point toward favourable circumstances for effective social influence. We suggest five specific ways in which the strategic calculations and actions of the socialization agency (as well as its superior bargaining power vis-à-vis the target states) may be constrained by the community context in which they operate. Some community effects constrain the self-interested socialization preferences and the political cost-benefit calculations of the

24 International Socialization in Europe

socialization agency. They increase the likelihood and intensity of international socialization efforts when welfare, security, and power benefits for the community are absent or weak. Other community effects constrain the use of the community’s superior bargaining power and enhance the normative consistency of its socialization efforts. 1 The community has an obligation to socialize non-member states. The promotion of constitutive community values and norms is a regular and indispensable feature of its external relations. This is especially true for target countries located in the ‘community area’. In the case of the Western international community, for instance, this applies to all European countries. In the community’s relations with European non-member countries, the promotion of democracy and human rights is an indispensable element and, usually, a condition for the establishment and intensification of ‘functional’ relations with the organizations and member states of the community. This community effect raises the level or lowers the threshold of socialization activities in cases of zero or low net political benefits to the international community. However, the type and intensity of socialization above this threshold still vary with the costs and benefits of international socialization. 2 This strategic freedom further decreases with the intensity of rule violations. The more massively the community’s fundamental rules are violated, the higher the salience and the higher the moral pressure on the community members to intervene becomes – even if net material costs are high. In other words, the social opportunity costs of low or no socialization efforts increase with the intensity of the rule violations (relative to the material costs of reinforcement). In the Western international community, the massive violation of basic human rights (such as genocide and other politically motivated mass killings) most likely triggers equally massive reactions and efforts to end the violations. This community effect also raises the level of community socialization efforts above the level that would be expected as a result of net material and power benefits. 3 The community must link its rewards and punishments to legitimate conditions. It cannot use its bargaining power to define and use criteria for making promises and threats at will. To enjoy legitimacy, the conditions for both rewards and punishment must follow from the constitutive rules of the community. In the Western international community, the only legitimate conditions are those based on liberal norms – such as human rights, the rule of law, or free and fair elections. Conversely, reinforcement conditional on economic performance, military capacity, or religious beliefs would be less admissible. This community effect tends to produce a rulebased reinforcement process. 4 The community must treat target states impartially and equally according to these legitimate conditions. The socialization agency is not only constrained

Theory: Strategic Action in the International Community 25

in the choice of reinforcement conditions but also in their application across target states. Thus, the socialization agencies of the Western international community have to evaluate the rule adoption of all European non-member states impartially on the basis of the same liberal political conditions and cannot legitimately set looser or alternative criteria for countries that are cheaper to reward – or build higher hurdles for countries they may want to keep out or punish out of self-interest. The obligation of equal and impartial treatment also applies to the comparison of community insiders and outsiders. It would be illegitimate to ask different or higher standards of the target states than of the member states. This community effect tends to produce a meritocratic reinforcement process. 5 The normative consistency of international socialization increases the closer the socialization process comes to the question of membership in the community organizations. Whereas an inconsistent treatment of remote states with weak links to the community might remain undetected or be tolerated, the scrutiny and assessment of target countries becomes the more careful, rule-based, and impartial, the higher the target countries climb the ladder toward full membership. The prospect of membership raises the relevance of constitutive rules and the salience of rule violations by the candidate state. By strengthening the normative consistency of both the threat to deny membership (if constitutive rules are not adopted) and the promise to grant membership (if constitutive rules are adopted), this community effect increases the rule-based and meritocratic character of the reinforcement process over time and towards the end of the socialization process. In sum, the conditions for strong community effects on the international socialization policy of the socialization agency are favourable and these community effects will constrain the self-interest, the cost-benefit calculations, and the bargaining power of the international community and increase the normative consistency of its socialization efforts. To be sure, this does not mean that the pursuit of political self-interest, strategic calculation, and bargaining power are neutralized or replaced by the logic of appropriateness – they are only constrained and mitigated. The opposite is true for the target states of the international socialization process. Not being part of the international community (yet), they are not constrained by prior normative commitments to the community ethos or susceptible to social influence in the way that the community members are. Therefore, political self-interest, cost-benefit calculations, and bargaining power will not be markedly restrained and balanced by normative influences such as the normative authority of community institutions, the legitimacy and domestic resonance of community rules, and identification with the community. Rather, the successful socialization of the target states depends on the socialization agency’s superior bargaining power, the credibility of its

26 International Socialization in Europe

threats and promises, the efficient monitoring of target state compliance, and the size of domestic adaptation costs and opposition. On the other hand, target states can use the community ethos rhetorically to put pressure on the socialization agencies to adhere to the community rules, to treat all target countries impartially according to the normative community standards, and to keep their promises of assistance and membership after community rules have been adopted. In sum, we posit that international socialization in Eastern Europe is best analyzed and explained as a bargaining process under normative constraints. Whereas the superior bargaining power of the socialization agency, and strong and credible external incentives are a necessary prerequisite of successful international socialization, the community effects constrain the aims and means of the socialization agencies, reduce potential misuses of the community’s bargaining power vis-à-vis the target countries, and thereby help to keep the international socialization process on track. In the next chapter, we will translate these general theoretical assumptions and propositions to a specific analysis of the Western international community’s socialization agencies, strategies, and behaviour.

Notes 1 See Scott (1991) for the distinction between technical and institutional environments. See Waltz (1979: 74–7, 127–8) and Ikenberry and Kupchan (1990) for realist analyses of state socialization in a technical, material international environment. 2 For instance, Jepperson, Wendt and Katzenstein (1996: 33) speak of ‘cultural and institutional’ security environments. 3 The same could, of course, be said about the connection of materialism and instrumental action. For the following, see also Schimmelfennig (2002: 419–21). 4 For a summary assessment of the older literature on this subject, see Pollack (1998). For more recent analyses confirming the secondary role of international socialization, see Hooghe (2005); see also Egeberg (1999); Trondal (2001). 5 Note that I do not use ‘reinforcement’ as a ‘mechanical’, non-rational mechanism as described, for example, by Jon Elster (1989: 82–8). 6 Note that other authors define and use ‘salience’ interchangeably with ‘resonance’ (see below). See, for example, Cortell and Davis (2000). 7 For an analysis of this mechanism in the parliamentarization of the EU, see Rittberger (2005).

3 European Socialization Agencies and Strategies

International socialization in the Western international community The Western international community is based on liberal political values and norms. Liberal human rights – individual freedoms, civil liberties, and political rights – are at the centre of its political culture. They are the ‘constitutive values that define legitimate statehood and rightful state action’ in the domestic as well as in the international realm (Reus-Smit 1997: 558). In the domestic realm, the liberal principles of social and political order – social pluralism, the rule of law, democratic political participation and representation, private property, and a market-based economy – are derived from, and justified by, these liberal human rights. Only a state that bases its domestic political system on these principles and reliably follows these values and norms in its domestic politics is regarded as fully legitimate by the Western international community. In the international realm, liberal political culture shapes the institutions of peaceful conflict management and multilateralist collaboration. In both cases, domestic liberal norms are transferred to the foreign policy of liberal states and to the international interactions between them. The democratic peace – the fact that democratic states do not wage war against each other – has its roots in those domestic norms of liberal-democratic states that require political conflicts to be managed and resolved without violence and on the basis of constitutional procedures. The other basic international norm, multilateralism, is defined as a generic institutional form that ‘coordinates relations among three or more states on the basis of generalized principles of conduct: that is, principles which specify appropriate conduct for a class of actions, without regard to the particularistic interests of the parties or the strategic exigencies that may exist in any specific occurrence’ (Ruggie 1993: 11). Multilateralism corresponds to the basic liberal idea of procedural justice; that is, ‘the legislative codification of formal, reciprocally binding social rules’ among the members of society (Reus-Smit 1997: 577). Because the liberal values and norms that define the collective identity of the Western community are externalized domestic liberal norms and thus span 27

28 International Socialization in Europe

the international–domestic divide, international socialization cannot be confined to the adoption of norms of international, state-to-state conduct such as diplomatic conventions or the acceptance of international law. Therefore, international socialization in the Western community is first and foremost concerned with the promotion of liberal human rights and liberal democracy. Over time, the Western international community has become increasingly institutionalized. In the decade after World War II, the community members founded three major European regional organizations with different functional specializations. Whereas NATO focused on the military security of the community, the core functions of the European Communities were economic, and the CE concentrated on the codification and protection of human rights. Regardless of their specialization, however, all three organizations refer explicitly to the constitutive values and norms of the Western community in their basic treaties and define the promotion and protection of liberal democracy, the democratic peace and multilateralist collaboration as their basic purpose. In the preamble to the North Atlantic Treaty of 1949, the signatory states declare the protection of their values as the basic purpose of NATO: ‘They are determined to safeguard the freedom, common heritage and civilisation of their peoples, founded on the principles of democracy, individual liberty, and the rule of law.’ Article 2 adds that the member states ‘will contribute toward the further development of peaceful and friendly international relations by strengthening their free institutions, by bringing about a better understanding of the principles upon which these institutions are founded, and by promoting conditions of stability and well-being’. In the preamble to the Treaty establishing the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) of 1952, the member states clearly stated the communitybuilding purpose of European integration when they expressed their resolve ‘to substitute for age old rivalries the merging of their essential interests; to create, by establishing an economic community, the basis for a broader and deeper community among peoples long divided by bloody conflicts; and to lay the foundations for institutions which will give direction to a destiny henceforward shared’. In the preamble to the 1958 Treaty of Rome establishing the European Economic Community (EEC), the signatories declared to be ‘determined to lay the foundations of an ever closer union of the peoples of Europe’ and to be ‘resolved, by thus pooling their resources, to preserve and strengthen peace and liberty’. Article 6 of the Treaty on European Union (TEU), first codified in the Maastricht Treaty of 1991, represents the most authoritative and clear statement of the constitutive liberal values of the Western community: ‘1 The Union is founded on the principles of liberty, democracy, respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, and the rule of law, principles which are common to the Member States’. In the preamble to the 1949 Statute of the Council of Europe, the founding governments reaffirmed ‘their devotion to the spiritual and moral values

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 29

which are the common heritage of their peoples and the true source of individual freedom, political liberty and the rule of law, principles which form the basis of all genuine democracy’. The goal of the new organization was ‘to achieve a greater unity between its members for the purpose of safeguarding and realising the ideals and principles which are their common heritage and facilitating their economic and social progress’ (Article 1a). Finally, in the Charter of Paris for a New Europe, accepted in November 1990, the Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), which had been a forum of Western and Communist countries since 1975, proclaimed the opening of ‘a new era of democracy, peace and unity in Europe’ and vowed to ‘undertake to build, consolidate, and strengthen democracy as the only system of government of our nations’. Thus, at the end of the Cold War, the CSCE redesigned itself as a Western community organization as well. All community organizations have in principle been open for the admission of new members from the beginning. Their treaty-based enlargement rules were formulated in rather vague terms, however. Article 10 of the North Atlantic Treaty states that the member states ‘may, by unanimous agreement, invite any other European State in a position to further the principles of this Treaty and to contribute to the security of the North Atlantic area to accede to this Treaty’, and the original Articles 98 ECSC Treaty and 237 EEC Treaty simply accorded all European states the right to apply for membership. Only Article 3 of the Statute of the Council of Europe postulates explicitly: ‘Every member of the Council of Europe must accept the principles of the rule of law and of the enjoyment by all persons within its jurisdiction of human rights and fundamental freedoms’. Over time, however, both the EU and NATO developed more specific accession criteria based on the constitutive rules of the Western international community. This is especially true for the 1990s when both organizations prepared for Eastern enlargement. In its Study on NATO Enlargement (NATO 1995), NATO required the candidates for membership, inter alia, to settle ethnic and international disputes by peaceful means and to strengthen their free institutions (sections 5–6). Conversely, US president Clinton plainly summarized which countries do not qualify: ‘Countries with repressive political systems, countries with designs on their neighbors, countries with militaries unchecked by civilian control, or with closed economic systems need not apply.’1 For the EU, the Treaty on European Union, in Article 49, linked accession explicitly to the fundamental liberal democratic principles of Article 6(1): ‘Any European state which respects the principles set out in Article 6(1) [liberty, democracy, respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, and the rule of law] may apply to become a member of the Union.’ These principles were reaffirmed in the so-called Copenhagen criteria of enlargement agreed at the European Council of June 1993, which required of prospective members the stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities’ and ‘the existence of a functioning market economy’.2

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At the same time, the community organizations were entrusted with the task of socializing European non-member countries to the community rules and have increasingly formalized this task. First, the member states of the community decided early in the process to coordinate their socialization policies multilaterally and to delegate the design and administration of most programmes for the promotion of liberal norms to their international organizations. In 1989, when the G7 first decided to assist the reform programmes initiated in some Central European countries, they delegated the coordination of bilateral and multilateral aid to the European Commission. Later, when the difficult question of recognizing new states emerging from the remnants of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia was on the agenda, international recognition was ultimately conferred by international organizations based on multilaterally agreed criteria. Second, the community organizations formalized the socialization process by creating specific organizational units and agencies as well as socialization programmes, by establishing explicit conditions, rules, and procedures for the socialization process, and by linking it to formal institutional relationships between the community organizations and non-member countries. Most of the agencies and programmes were institutional innovations of the post-Cold War period, specifically designed to cope with the massive socialization challenge posed by the political change in Eastern Europe. The CSCE, for instance, established an Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR) in 1990 (initially named Office for Free Elections) and a High Commissioner on National Minorities (HCNM) in 1992. The CE created the Venice Commission (European Commission for Democracy through Law) in 1990 as an advisory body for constitutional engineering in the transformation countries. NATO set up the North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) in 1991, and the EU offered financial and technical aid to assist the transformation through its PHARE and TACIS schemes. In addition, the regional organizations – with the exception of the CSCE – established different grades of association with outside states reflecting their progress in the socialization process and reaching from simple contractual relations and consultation procedures to full membership. NATO created the Partnership for Peace (PfP) for non-member member states in 1994. Nonmember countries of the EU moved from diverse trade, cooperation, and partnership agreements via association to accession. Finally, the CE introduced a special guest status in 1989 as an antechamber to full membership. In many ways, the process resembles and functionally corresponds with schools in domestic society. Candidates for community membership are taught, and supposed to learn the basic rules of the community, as well as the knowledge that is necessary in order to fully participate in the community organizations. Continuous monitoring by officials of the community organizations and regular reports listing achievements and shortcomings accompany the process. Before a state passes a grade and moves up, the community reviews and evaluates its prior achievements and sets new targets. For instance, the European Commission gives its Opinion on the applications for

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 31

membership and publishes annual reports on their progress toward meeting the conditions of membership and the adoption of EU rules. The European Parliament, which needs to give its assent to the Accession Treaties, writes and debates reports on the candidates as well. In the CE, the Parliamentary Assembly gives an Opinion after lawyers of the European Court of Human Rights and members of parliamentary committees have conducted on-thespot investigations and prepared reports on the conformity of the applicant’s national legislation with CE standards. As a result of the increasing formalization of international socialization in the Western international community, community membership has come to be equated with membership in the community organizations. A fully socialized European country is a member state of the OSCE, the CE, NATO, and the EU. In sum, international socialization in Europe takes place in a highly institutionalized environment. All major community organizations participate in this task as socialization agencies with highly formalized rules and procedures. In spite of these broad commonalities, however, their specific strategies of international socialization have varied.

A classification of socialization strategies As a first step, we offer a classification of socialization strategies which will help us to distinguish what the regional organizations do to promote the liberal democratic rules of the Western international community. First, we distinguish inclusive from exclusive strategies, and strategies of reinforcement from strategies of persuasion. The reinforcement strategies can be further specified according to the use of incentives: reinforcement by reward, punishment and support. Finally, incentives can be tangible or intangible and work through an intergovernmental or a transnational channel. The inclusive strategy of community-building aims at socialization from within. The community organization first admits the socializees and then teaches them the community rules. By contrast, according to the exclusive strategy of community building, the community organization communicates their constitutive rules to outsider states and admits them after they have adopted the rules. As a consequence, inclusive organizations expand faster and have a larger membership than exclusive organizations. Reinforcement strategies operate through the manipulation of incentives and disincentives to reward rule-conforming and punish rule-violating behaviour. By contrast, persuasion strategies consist in the presentation of arguments to justify the community rules and to convince the target state of their validity. If successful, they result in the acceptance and internalization of the rules by the target state and in an intrinsic motivation to adopt them. No incentives beyond the power of the argument demonstrating the appropriateness of the rules are involved. We further distinguish three reinforcement strategies, which can be modelled as a decision tree (see Figure 3.1).3 First, the community organization expects

32 International Socialization in Europe Community organization

Target state Accepts conditions

Community organization Rewards Withholds reward Reinforcement by reward

Sets conditions

Rejects conditions

Inflicts punishment Reinforcement by punishment Gives support Reinforcement by support

Figure 3.1

Reinforcement strategies

the target state to adopt its rules and promises a reward – ultimately, community membership – in return for compliance. The target state then has the choice of complying or not. Generally, according to our strategic approach to international socialization, this decision results from cost-benefit calculations. If the target state values the community’s reward more highly than the costs of fulfilling its conditions, it accepts the conditions and receives the reward. If costs exceed benefits, the target state rejects the conditions. In this case, the community organization can react in three ways, which represent different reinforcement strategies. In reinforcement by reward, the community organization simply withholds the reward but does not coerce or pressure the target state into rule-conforming behaviour.4 If the reward remains constant, the target state will only comply if the costs of compliance decrease below the benefits of the reward. In reinforcement by punishment, the community organization not only withholds the reward but inflicts extra punishment on the non-compliant state to achieve compliance. If punishment is sufficiently severe to increase the international costs of non-compliance beyond the domestic costs, the target state will comply. Finally, in reinforcement by support, the community organization withholds the reward but gives extra support to enable the non-compliant state to comply. If support is sufficiently high as to close the gap between the benefits and costs of compliance, the target state complies and obtains the reward. The rewards and punishments used by the community organization may be tangible (material or political) or intangible (social or symbolic). In the first case, we speak of material reinforcement and of social reinforcement in the second. In reinforcement by tangible rewards, the target country is offered material or political rewards in return for compliance – such as financial assistance, market access, technical expertise, and voting rights in international organizations. In reinforcement by tangible punishment, the socialization agency inflicts material sanctions on the target state. These may range from economic sanctions such as an embargo or the freezing of bank accounts to the (threat of the) use of force to impose a rule on a non-compliant state. In

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 33 Table 3.1

Classification of socialization strategies Reinforcement By reward Persuasion

Tangible

Intangible

By punishment Tangible

Intangible

By support Tangible

Intangible

Inclusive Intergovernmental Transnational Exclusive Intergovernmental Transnational

reinforcement by tangible support, the socialization agency offers; for instance, technical aid to enhance the target state’s capacity to comply with its rules or financial compensation to dampen domestic opposition. By contrast, social reinforcement uses socio-psychological rewards, punishment, and support. Reinforcement by social rewards consists, for instance, of international recognition and public praise by the community organization for a state that has adopted the community rules. Correspondingly, reinforcement by social punishment comes in the form of shaming and shunning. States are publicly named and blamed for their non-compliance; their leaders are not invited to international conferences or are banned from entering the countries of the community. Finally, social support can be thought of as a class of instruments through which a non-compliant target state receives extra attention and encouragement. These may consist of additional meetings with the agency, the sending of expert and support teams and assurances of respect for the efforts undertaken. Finally, socialization can use an intergovernmental or a transnational channel. Through the intergovernmental channel, the community organization targets governments directly with its incentives and arguments. By contrast, in transnational socialization, the community organization interacts with nongovernmental actors in the target countries such as social movement organizations, interest groups, parties or business actors. It is through these actors that the community organization attempts to create social demand for rule acceptance and adoption and to have an indirect impact on the target state government. Table 3.1 summarizes the classification of socialization strategies. Where do the predominant socialization strategies of the Western community organizations fit in the classification?

The socialization strategies of Western community organizations Inclusiveness–exclusiveness The OSCE is the most inclusive organization and pursues a strategy of international socialization from within. With 55 participating states, it is the

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largest community organization. The Eastern European countries had either been participants of the CSCE since its very beginnings in 1973 or were admitted almost immediately after they had become independent after the break-up of the multinational states of the region. The Baltic countries joined in September 1991, the remaining successor states of the Soviet Union in January 1992, and most of the successor states of Yugoslavia in the spring of 1992. The OSCE does not have a conditional admission procedure that requires states to meet community standards before joining. Rather, they become members by virtue of being geographically located in the OSCE area ‘from Vancouver to Vladivostok’. The only exception from inclusiveness was the suspension of Yugoslavia in July 1992 because of its aggressive involvement in the conflict in Bosnia-Herzegovina. It was readmitted after the end of the Miloševic´ regime in November 2000. By contrast, the exclusive strategy of international socialization is typical of the EU and NATO. Both organizations admit new member states only after these have adopted the constitutive community rules and are far advanced in the process of democratic consolidation. Accordingly, NATO admitted the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland – arguably the forerunners of democratic transformation – in 1997 and another group of seven CEECs in 2004. The EU is even more selective and exclusive than NATO. It admitted the first group of eight CEECs (plus Cyprus and Malta) in 2004 – fifteen years after the demise of communism. Moreover, whereas NATO’s association policy is highly inclusive – PfP only excluded Bosnia-Herzegovina and Serbia-Montenegro at the time of writing – proper association to the EU was limited to five of the Eastern European non-members (Bulgaria, Croatia, Macedonia, Romania, and Turkey). The CE occupies an intermediate position between inclusiveness and exclusiveness. Although the Eastern European countries were not automatically admitted, most of them joined the CE within a few years after the end of the Cold War. The CE requires new members to fulfil some basic community rules before accession, demands that they commit themselves, at the time of admission, to adopting further rules once they are members, and then monitors their compliance from within. Since 1996, all CEECs except Belarus, BosniaHerzegovina, and Yugoslavia have been members of the CE. After the admission of Bosnia-Herzegovina and Serbia-Montenegro in 2002 and 2003, only Belarus has remained outside the organization.5 Persuasion-reinforcement All community organizations pursue persuasion and reinforcement strategies. The major difference between them is whether or not they use material reinforcement in addition to persuasion and social reinforcement. The OSCE and the CE rely almost exclusively on persuasion and social reinforcement.6 First, they engage in rule development. The codification and elaboration of human rights, the fundamental community norms, is the core domain of the CE. It drafted, inter alia, the European Convention on Human

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 35

Rights in 1950, the European Social Charter in 1961 and, in 1994, the Framework Convention on Minority Rights. Second, they teach the constitutive community rules to the socializees. They consult with officials of the target states, train them in the proper interpretation and adoption of norms; they make recommendations on the change of laws and institutions, the implementation of human and minority rights and the rule of law, or the conduct of democratic elections; and they mediate between the parties in domestic conflict. These are the main tasks of such agencies as the Venice Commission of the CE or the OSCE’s HCNM, ODIHR, and its field operations in many Eastern European countries. In mostly non-public and confidential meetings and seminars, they seek to persuade their interlocutors to adopt the community rules. Third, they monitor the compliance of the target states with the constitutive community rules. For instance, the Parliamentary Assembly of the CE established a Monitoring Committee to assess to what extent the new member states honoured the commitments they made at the time of entry. OSCE missions and offices also continuously monitor the situation on the ground. In response to non-compliance and rule violation, both organizations not only use persuasion but also resort to social reinforcement. In the OSCE, the suspension of Yugoslavia’s participation in 1992 has been the strongest act of disapproval and shunning, effectively turning Serbia under Miloševic´ into Europe’s pariah state. In addition, press statements and reports by the OSCE agencies and missions publicize the compliance or non-compliance of the participating states, and distribute praise and opprobrium among them. Social reinforcement plays an even stronger role in the CE. On the one hand, admission to the CE is an important formal indication of recognition and approval by the Western community because it is not, in contrast to the OSCE, a quasiautomatic decision. It confers basic international legitimacy on the new member state and is often regarded as a first, necessary step on the way to NATO and the EU. On the other hand, the CE has been more prepared to use social punishment against non-compliant member states than the OSCE. In particular, the Parliamentary Assembly of the CE can take credit for openly criticizing member states, calling for their expulsion in case of systematic rule-violation (as, for instance, in the case of Ukraine in 1999), suspending the voting rights of national parliamentarians (as in the case of Russia in 2000) and even excluding national parliamentarians from its ranks (as in the case of Turkey in 1981). As Michael Merlingen and Rasa Ostrauskaite˙ quote a senior Eastern European diplomat, ‘states squeak louder when reprimanded by the CoE [Council of Europe]’ than by the OSCE (2005: 130). However, neither the OSCE nor the CE uses tangible, material incentives and disincentives to influence the behaviour of their target states. The EU and NATO also use persuasion and social reinforcement strategies. NATO in particular began to conduct teaching and training activities in 1991 in the framework of the ‘liaison concept’ and NACC. These activities included meetings between officers and staff of the former adversary alliances

36 International Socialization in Europe

(‘familiarization courses’), fellowships for the study of democratic institutions, and seminars on the democratic control of the military (Gheciu 2005; Lucarelli 2005). However, these activities were not as varied and elaborate as in the OSCE or the CE. Neither NATO nor the EU contributed significantly to the development and codification of liberal community rules; neither did they create special agencies for democracy promotion. Rather, they regularly refer to norms and principles of the OSCE or the CE and to their findings regarding the quality of elections or the situation of minorities in the target states. Moreover, persuasion and social reinforcement have always been secondary and increasingly linked to the material incentives that these organizations have to offer. Indeed, material reinforcement is the exclusive domain of NATO and the EU. As a military alliance, NATO provides material incentives in the area of security. It gives military assistance and protection but also has the means to physically coerce rule-violating countries into compliance. The EU’s incentives are in the area of economic welfare. It attracts outsider states with access to its market and funds, and gives or denies financial and technical assistance for the transition to market economies. Politically, both organizations offer new members a say in Europe’s most powerful organizations. Although any material reward carries with it an element of social recognition, it is the material utility that dominates. Institutional ties with the EU and NATO such as ‘partnership’, ‘association’ or ‘membership’ already indicate by their names that they imply a certain social relationship with the international community and a gradual shift from out-group to in-group. However, each of these steps involves increasing tangible material and political benefits as well, and it is these benefits that dominate the calculations of the actors and the negotiations. Conversely, whenever the EU and NATO use social incentives and disincentives – that is, appeal to the legitimate aspirations of a country to join the community of democratic nations or shame a government for violating the basic values and norms of this community – they are directly linked to material incentives (the promise of assistance and membership) and disincentives (the threat to cut assistance or exclude a country from membership). Thus, the EU and NATO do not distinguish themselves from the OSCE or the CE by their analysis of the situation in the target countries nor by the political changes they require from the target states. Indeed, they have often explicitly followed the reports of the OSCE and the CE, and taken up their demands. Their distinctive contribution to international socialization in Eastern Europe has been to put the weight of their material power and attractiveness behind the community rules. Reinforcement by reward, punishment and support The material reinforcement strategy that the EU and NATO predominantly pursue is reinforcement by reward – generally known as political conditionality. According to this strategy, the EU and NATO set the adoption of liberal democratic community norms as political conditions for membership and other

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 37

tangible rewards. European states that fulfil the conditions receive assistance, strengthen their institutional relationship with the organizations and, ultimately, become members. States that fail to meet the political conditions are not coerced to introduce political reforms (reinforcement by punishment), nor do they receive special assistance or support (reinforcement by support). They are simply left behind in the ‘regatta’ to assistance and membership – with an open invitation to join once the political conditions are in place. The EU has used political conditionality particularly early and consistently in its relations with the Eastern European countries (see also Smith 2001: 37–40). Already in January 1989, the European Parliament demanded that ‘reference to human rights should figure’ in the Trade and Cooperation Agreements and should be mentioned specifically in the negotiating mandates given to the Commission.7 In April, the Council made resumption of the negotiations with Romania conditional upon this country’s compliance with its human rights commitments in the CSCE framework.8 In November, the Paris summit established that ‘initiatives aimed at the countries of Eastern Europe as a whole are applicable only to those which re-establish freedom and democracy’.9 During his visit to Belgrade in May and June 1991, Jacques Santer, president of the Council, stated that Yugoslavia’s passage from the Cooperation Agreement to association ‘hinges on political conditions such as … progress in establishing democracy and respect for human rights and the rights of minorities’.10 After the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the Commission confirmed that ‘negotiating … new types of agreements has to be subject to political conditions (respect of human rights and democratic freedoms, guarantees for minorities, and so on)’.11 In May 1992, the Council underscored that ‘respect for democratic principles and human rights … as well as the principles of a market economy, constitute essential elements of cooperation and association agreements between the Community and its CSCE partners’.12 Henceforth, the EU added a clause to the agreements that stipulated a suspension of the agreements if partner countries fail to comply with these principles. In November of the same year, the Council approved guidelines for the EC’s main programme of assistance to the CEECs (PHARE) which made aid conditional upon the ‘state of advance of the reforms in each of the beneficiary countries’.13 On this basis, Croatia and Serbia-Montenegro have long been denied PHARE aid. In July 1993, the new regulations of the TACIS aid programme for the former Soviet republics strengthened conditionality, too: ‘The level and intensity of the assistance will take into account the extent and progress of reform efforts in the beneficiary country.’14 At its Copenhagen summit in June 1993, the European Council established the ‘stability of institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities’ as the sine qua non political condition of accession to the EU. The importance of minority rights was underscored by the ‘Pact on Stability in Europe’ launched in May 1994 at the initiative of French prime minister Edouard Balladur, which called upon all EU

38 International Socialization in Europe

membership candidates to settle their border and minority conflicts, and provide for minority protection in a series of bilateral negotiations and treaties. The concrete terms of the treaties were left to the negotiating parties but it was understood that without such a settlement, the road to accession would be blocked. In its 1997 Opinion on the applications for membership and in subsequent annual progress reports, the Commission has regularly evaluated the political conditions in all candidate countries. Based on these opinions and reports, the Commission made recommendations on the beginning of accession negotiations and later pointed out reforms that needed to be undertaken before the conclusion of accession negotiations. EU political conditionality comes under reinforcement by reward because countries that fail to meet the criteria are simply denied assistance, association or membership and are left behind in the competition for EU funds and the race to accession. Only in a few early and minor cases did the EU suspend existing agreements (with Romania in 1989 and Yugoslavia in 1991), and it has never invoked the 1992 ‘human rights clause’ to terminate agreements already in force. The EU generally does not inflict extra punishment (in addition to withholding the conditional reward) on non-compliant governments. Although EU members have participated in UN sanctions and NATO military interventions against Yugoslavia, the EU as an organization has not been prominently involved in the coercive measures. On the other hand, the EU does not give extra support to those who fail to meet the conditions either. Rather, the EU regularly exhorts the target governments that it is their own responsibility to create the conditions to be rewarded. To be sure, the EU does provide funding for projects designed to promote democracy and human rights in Central and Eastern Europe directly. In 1992, both a PHARE Democracy and a TACIS Democracy Programme were launched; both were merged in 1997. Since 1999, the European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR) has been the most important EU programme to promote liberal democracy in third countries. In comparison with the rewards-based technical and financial assistance under the main PHARE and TACIS programmes, however, direct support was rather marginal. According to Karen Smith (2001: 49), only one per cent of the EU’s total aid budget was dedicated to the direct support of democratization in the CEECs. The typical biennial budget for the PHARE and TACIS Democracy Programmes in the 1990s was in the range of €40 million, and according to the Programming Document of EIDHR for the years 2002–04, Bosnia-Herzegovina, SerbiaMontenegro, Russia, Turkey, and Ukraine have been allotted a total of €12.8 million.15 Yet, the 1997–98 PHARE budget alone was €1.6 billion.16 NATO’s socialization strategy has generally been based on reinforcement by reward as well but, on the one hand, its political conditionality has not been as explicit and consistent and, on the other hand, punishment has played a greater role. Paragraph 2 of the Partnership for Peace Framework Document

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 39

of January 1994 does link PfP to the constitutive rules of the Western community: Protection and promotion of fundamental freedoms and human rights, and safeguarding of freedom, justice, and peace through democracy are shared values fundamental to the Partnership. In joining the Partnership, the member states of the North Atlantic Alliance and the other States subscribing to this Document recall that they are committed to the preservation of democratic societies, their freedom from coercion and intimidation, and the maintenance of the principles of international law.17 Yet, this commitment has not prevented NATO from extending Partnership to virtually all countries of the region, including dictatorships in Belarus and Central Asia. At the same time, however, PfP established the principle of selfdifferentiation for steps toward deeper association and full membership: PfP activities and programmes are open to all partners, who themselves decide which opportunities to pursue and how intensively to work with the Alliance through the Partnership. This varying degree of participation is a key element of the self-differentiation process (NATO 1995: section 38). The working of self-differentiation is best seen in the Individual Partnership Programmes (IPPs) which specify strongly varying types and degrees of cooperation with NATO.18 At the two extremes, some countries have not agreed any IPP with NATO for a long time, whereas others have joined the Membership Action Plan set up in 1999 to focus more narrowly on the political, military, financial security, and legal prerequisites of and preparations for alliance membership. Direct support for democratization has been even more marginal in NATO than in the EU. No specific ‘democracy programmes’ were set up or funded. By contrast, reinforcement by punishment has been more relevant than in the EU. In the summer of 1995, NATO initiated its Operation Deliberate Force as a reaction to the massacres of Srebrenica and Zepa in Bosnia-Herzegovina. This operation consisted in massive air strikes on Serb forces, which continued until Serbian commander Ratko Mladic´ gave in to the NATO ultimatum and agreed to a ceasefire. In December 1995, the Dayton Peace Accord was signed and NATO deployed the 60,000-strong Implementation Force (IFOR) to guarantee the peace and oversee the implementation of the Dayton Accord. In the summer of 1998, NATO began to study military options in response to the pillage of Kosovo villages and massive expulsion of ethnic Albanians from their homes by Serbian Police and the Yugoslav army. In October, the North Atlantic Council authorized activation orders for air strikes. Faced with the threat of NATO bombings, the Serbian leadership accepted a ceasefire and the deployment of an OSCE peacekeeping mission in Kosovo. In March 1999, however,

40 International Socialization in Europe

after Serbia had started a new offensive in Kosovo and rejected a peace agreement, NATO initiated air strikes against Yugoslavia (Operation Allied Force) that lasted for 72 days before Serbia began to withdraw its troops from Kosovo. In June 1999, the Kosovo Force (KFOR) was deployed to monitor and enforce the peace. At its full strength, KFOR consisted of approximately 50,000 troops. Finally, it is clear from the descriptions above that European regional organizations primarily pursue intergovernmental strategies of international socialization. All of them are intergovernmental organizations. Their teaching and persuasion efforts as well as their social rewards and punishment are directly addressed to government officials of the target states. Governments are also the recipients of financial and technical assistance, and the negotiators and signatories of agreements and treaties with the community organizations. In general, intergovernmental strategies are a direct corollary of the formalization of international socialization because formal agreements usually need to be concluded with target state governments. In addition, however, all organizations use a secondary transnational track. For instance, OSCE missions in the target countries are in contact and cooperate with societal groups and organizations; the CE empowers individuals to go to the European Human Rights Court when their human rights are violated; the EU seeks to strengthen civil society through its complementary strategy of reinforcement by support. Finally, all organizations count on indirect transnational effects of their intergovernmental reinforcement strategies. By rewarding pro-community governments and punishing anti-community governments, they signal community approval and disapproval to domestic societies. They thereby hope to build domestic support for rule-compliant and domestic pressure on rule-violating governments. Table 3.2 summarizes the socialization strategies of the main community organizations. Whereas the EU and NATO pursue an exclusive strategy of socialization, the OSCE’s strategy is inclusive and the CE falls in between. All organizations use persuasion and social reinforcement to socialize the target countries, but the EU and NATO pursue material reinforcement, too. More precisely, both organizations focus on reinforcement by reward. In addition, the EU has small support programmes to promote democracy and NATO occasionally uses military force to punish rule violators. Finally, all organizations

Table 3.2

Socialization strategies of the community organizations OSCE

Inclusiveness Instruments

Channel

CE

Inclusive Intermediate Persuasion and social reinforcement

EU

NATO

Exclusive Exclusive Material reinforcement by reward Additional Additional support punishment Primarily intergovernmental, secondarily transnational

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 41

primarily use the intergovernmental channel of socialization – with secondary socialization efforts directly targeted at societal actors and the expectation of indirect, amplifying effects of intergovernmental reinforcement in the target state societies.

Explaining socialization strategies How can we account for the socialization strategies of the community organizations and their variation? According to our strategic action approach, the choice of strategy is determined by the capabilities and utilities of the community organizations. Based on this assumption, we propose the following hypotheses: 1a Community organizations that produce material collective goods pursue an exclusive socialization strategy; 1b The more costly the membership of target countries for a community organization, the higher the standards they have to meet and the longer it takes them to be admitted. In community organizations such as the EU and NATO, which produce tangible, material collective goods (or collective goods with material effects) such as military deterrence and defence, a common market and common distributive policies, enlargement has direct material consequences for the old member states. New members participate in the organization’s collective goods and in future decisions on their production and distribution. They may thereby reduce the net benefits and the decision-making power of old members. For this reason, such organizations regulate their membership more strictly than organizations that do not, or to a much lesser extent, produce material collective goods for their members. Because the material cost of enlargement was much lower for the OSCE and the CE, they were prepared to offer the Eastern European countries membership more quickly and established much lower hurdles on the way to accession than NATO and the EU. This variation is difficult to explain by approaches to international socialization based on the logic of appropriateness. According to this logic, all community organizations should either have used the same standard and expanded roughly in parallel, or the standard-setting and standard-protecting organizations might even have expanded more slowly. Since the CE focuses on the codification, elaboration, and adjudication of basic community norms and likes to portray itself as ‘Europe’s democratic conscience’, why should it not have established stricter normative criteria and higher hurdles to membership than the EU and NATO?19 2 Community organizations choose their main socialization instruments according to their specific capabilities.

42 International Socialization in Europe

Obviously, the OSCE and the CE needed to focus on persuasion and social reinforcement strategies because they lack the material capabilities for material reinforcement. By contrast, the EU and NATO have the specific capabilities to use material reinforcement as well. Economic power is the EU’s main and strongest asset and it is what distinguishes the EU from the other community organizations. Yet the EU does not have the normative expertise that would allow it to use persuasion as effectively as the CE, nor is its military power strong enough for military interventions against massive human rights violations. This again is the specific capability of NATO, which is why it has occasionally engaged in military punishment in addition to its attraction as a powerful defensive military alliance. In general, however, reinforcement by material punishment has been the exception and reinforcement by reward has been the rule with the EU and NATO. Why is that so? 3 Community organizations pursue reinforcement by reward in situations of low interdependence. In comparison with punishment and support, reinforcement by reward is a low-cost strategy. First, in material reinforcement, the cost of rewarding is usually lower than the cost of punishing and supporting – assuming that after successful punishment and support, the reward will have to be paid eventually, too. If target states do not comply, reinforcement by punishment requires inflicting extra costs and reinforcement by support requires the transfer of extra assistance. Second, in reinforcement by reward, the rewards are paid only after the successful adoption of community rules, which can take a long time, whereas reinforcement by punishment or support requires costly coercive and supportive engagements immediately and with uncertain prospects of success. Third, a strategy of reinforcement by reward avoids the ‘moral hazard’ problems that are especially grave in reinforcement by support. If socialization agencies pursue a strictly rewards-based strategy, target governments cannot count on receiving assistance unless they take on the burden of reform and change. For these reasons, a socialization agency prefers, ceteris paribus, rewarding to supporting or punishing. A rational socialization agency engages in the more costly strategies only if reinforcement by reward fails but interdependence with the target country is so strong that the benefits of successful socialization are likely to outweigh the extra costs of support and punishment. This will be the case if positive or negative interdependence with the target state is high; that is, if the benefits of cooperation with the target state are sizable (and can only be reaped after successful socialization) or if the community is vulnerable to negative externalities emanating from the target state. Even under these conditions, the socialization will only be willing to pay the costs of punishment or support if they are likely to deliver the desired results. On the basis of these considerations, the predominance of reinforcement by reward can be explained by the fact that, for the old members of the community

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 43

organizations, interdependence with the target countries was asymmetrical but low. In general, the Eastern European countries do not possess important strategic resources and their share of the total foreign trade of the old member states of the community organizations has remained at around five per cent throughout the 1990s. Their military capabilities were small and backward, and they were neither necessary nor useful for enhancing NATO’s military power. Moreover, NATO was not faced with a military threat or a superior power in the region that would need to have been balanced by the acquisition of new alliance partners (Schimmelfennig 2003a: 40–51, 61–2). With regard to negative interdependence, the material effects on the West of civil war as well as political and economic deterioration in some parts of Eastern Europe have been small. For instance, Western countries have been able to protect themselves effectively against a massive inflow of refugees or migrants (see Lavenex 1998). By contrast, many Eastern European countries faced post-Cold War threats to their security they could not counter on their own. First, uncertainty about political developments in Russia and about future Russian intentions was pervasive in the region, and NATO was widely perceived as the only reliable safeguard against the potential resurgence of Russian imperial ambitions. Second, ethnic conflict flared up throughout the region threatening the integrity and political stability of the transformation countries. In this respect, Western community organizations, and NATO in particular, were regarded as guarantors of stability as well. Economically, Eastern dependence on the West was strong, too. The share of EU exports and imports of the total foreign trade of the Eastern European countries rose up to between 50 and 70 per cent in the 1990s, and the inflow of Western capital became critical for the transformation of Eastern European economies. As in the case of NATO membership, the Eastern European candidate countries stood to benefit much more strongly from EU enlargement than the EU member states (Baldwin, Francois and Portes 1997; Moravcsik and Vachudova 2003: 46–52). As a result of this asymmetrical interdependence and their high attractiveness and bargaining power, the community organizations could reasonably expect that reinforcement by reward would work effectively in Eastern Europe. Indeed, in most parts of Central and Eastern Europe, democratic consolidation, regional stabilization, and international cooperation developed favourably throughout the 1990s with the help of reinforcement by reward and without either massive support or punishment. However, the more backward and problematic regions such as South Eastern Europe or the successor states of the Soviet Union, where reinforcement by reward alone did not improve democratic consolidation, were also the least attractive in economic terms and unable to inflict any major damage on the community societies. Given this low interdependence and vulnerability, the member states were not willing to pay the additional costs of support or punishment in these regions. The fact that the international socialization of Eastern European countries generally has low priority in Western societies

44 International Socialization in Europe

added to this unwillingness. No Western government had to fear significant domestic pressure if it was miserly with support to Eastern Europe and if it opposed or sought to put off enlargement of the community organizations.20 Thus, given their asymmetrical but low interdependence with Eastern Europe, the community organizations had no need to move beyond reinforcement by reward and to engage in costly socialization policies. The only exception from the general pattern is Russia. It possesses important resources for the West, could become a military threat to the community, has embarked on a path of authoritarianism, and has failed to respond significantly to reinforcement by reward. In the case of Russia, however, it is more obvious than for any other target country that the alternative reinforcement strategies would be highly unlikely to work, too. The sheer size of the country and its military power would make support or punishment prohibitively costly and ineffective. In sum, the core features of the socialization strategies pursued by the main community organizations as well as their variation can be explained on the basis of capabilities and utilities. In which way did community effects then limit the relevance of these factors and constrain the socialization strategies of the community organizations?

Community effects In the previous chapter, we posited several community effects on the international socialization strategies of community organizations: the obligation to socialize, the engagement in costly socialization policies against massive rule violations, the legitimacy of reinforcement conditions, the impartial treatment of socializees, and the normative consistency of the socialization strategy. We suggested that these community effects raise the level of (costly) socialization activities and ensure a rule-based and rule-consistent socialization process – especially when the material utilities of the community members and organizations tend to produce low levels of socialization activity and a normatively inconsistent socialization and accession process. We thus hypothesize that community effects shape the socialization strategies of Western community organizations in Eastern Europe in the following ways: 1 The adoption of constitutive, liberal-democratic community rules features regularly in the relations of the community organizations with Eastern European countries; 2 The adoption of liberal-democratic community rules is a necessary and sufficient condition of membership in the exclusive community organizations (EU and NATO); a The EU and NATO only open accession negotiations with Eastern European countries that have adopted their liberal-democratic rules; b The EU and NATO do not make the opening of accession negotiations dependent on the fulfilment of other conditions than the adoption of liberal-democratic rules;

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 45

3 The EU and NATO treat candidates for membership impartially according to their adoption of liberal-democratic rules; 4 The community organizations go beyond reinforcement by reward when constitutive community rules are massively and systematically violated. In a purely instrumentally rationalist perspective, one set of puzzles stands out in the international socialization of Eastern Europe. Given that both the EU and NATO produce material goods, their interdependence with Eastern Europe is asymmetrical and low and their material net benefits of enlargement are likely to be negative, it is in the self-interest of these community organizations to pursue exclusive socialization strategies, focus on reinforcement by reward, and establish strict accession criteria. But why should these criteria be based exclusively on the liberal community values and norms rather than on economic and military efficiency? Why should the EU and NATO offer the costly reward of membership and admit Eastern European countries at all rather than sticking with the more efficient association agreements? Finally, why should NATO intervene militarily in the Balkans in the absence of material interest and vulnerability? We argue that community effects provide the solution to these puzzles. Community rules, consistency, and impartiality The adoption of basic liberal-democratic norms features in almost all agreements that the community organizations conclude with non-member countries – as a condition of the relationship, as its goal, or both. It is already part of the most basic institutional arrangements with outsider states: NATO’s PfP and the EU’s trade and cooperation agreements. In the EU, democracy promotion and political conditionality have even become a regular feature of agreements with most non-European countries since the 1990s: in its Mediterranean policy, its European Neighbourhood Policy, its development policy, and its relations with Latin America (Börzel and Risse 2005). Thus, regardless of specific interests or context conditions, the community organizations have indeed felt obliged to link their external relations consistently to their community rules and to legitimize them by the promotion of democracy and human rights – at least rhetorically. In practice, the EU and NATO have not consistently or impartially adhered to their human rights conditionality at the lower levels of institutional relations. For instance, NATO partnership was extended to the most autocratic regimes of the OSCE region: Belarus and many Central Asian countries. The same is true for the EU’s PCAs with the successor states of the Soviet Union or the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership Agreements in the framework of the Barcelona Process, which include the non-democratic Arab countries of Northern Africa. Moreover, because of its strategic importance, Russia has a higher status with NATO or the EU (see the NATO–Russia Council or the EU–Russia Summits) than is justified by its deficient democratic or human rights performance. With regard

46 International Socialization in Europe

to financial assistance and development aid, Richard Youngs generally finds that the ‘overall distribution of EU aid has not been strongly correlated to recipients’ democratic performance’ (Youngs 2001: 357). EU and NATO practice becomes more consistently rule-guided, however, as it moves from aid and simple agreements to membership. Theoretically, this can be explained as a community effect: when constitutional questions such as membership are at stake, the pressure to act in line with the constitutive community rules increases. Rule adoption is expedient for outside cooperation partners but indispensable for future members. Whereas interest-based considerations are permitted to take the upper hand in relations with external states, the constitutive community rules will prevail in relations with future insiders. On the basis of Freedom House ratings of the civil and political rights performance of Eastern European countries, Table 3.3 shows that the EU and NATO have indeed generally been consistent and impartial in their selection Table 3.3

Selection of Eastern European countries for EU and NATO membership 1997

1999

2004

Country

PR/CL

Freedom Index

PR/CL

Freedom Index

PR/CL

Freedom Index

Czech Rep. Hungary Poland Estonia Slovenia Latvia Lithuania Slovakia Bulgaria Romania Croatia Macedonia Albania Belarus Bosnia-H. Moldova Russia Ukraine Yugoslavia

1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 2/2 1/2 2/4 2/3 2/3 4/4 4/3 4/4 6/6 5/5 3/4 3/4 3/4 6/6

Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Partly free Free Free Partly free Partly free Partly free Not free Partly free Partly free Partly free Partly free Not free

1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 2/2 2/3 2/2 4/4 3/3 4/5 6/6 5/5 2/4 4/4 3/4 6/6

Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Partly free Partly free Partly free Not free Partly free Partly free Partly free Partly free Not free

1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 1/1 1/2 1/2 1/2 1/2 2/2 2/2 3/3 3/3 6/6 4/4 3/4 5/5 4/4 3/2

Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Free Partly free Partly free Not free Partly free Partly free Partly free Partly free Partly free

Notes: Bold and underlined: EU and NATO members Bold and italics: NATO members, EU accession negotiations Bold: EU and NATO accession negotiations Underlined: EU accession negotiations, NATO association Italics: EU and NATO association Gray: Others

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 47

of candidates for membership.21 The table lists Freedom House ratings for 1997, 1999, and 2004. In 1997, both the EU and NATO selected countries for the first round of accession negotiations. In 1999, NATO admitted the first three new members, and the EU selected another group of five countries for accession talks. In 2004, the EU admitted eight Eastern European countries, and NATO concluded its second round of enlargement with seven new members. The most conspicuous cleavage is that between ‘free’ countries, on the one hand, and countries rated ‘partly free’ or ‘not free’, on the other. Countries rated ‘free’ have in all cases had a status of ‘EU and NATO association’ or higher, whereas ‘partly free’ and ‘not free’ countries have generally not achieved this status. The only two exceptions in the table are EU association for Slovakia in 1997 and Macedonia in 2004. Moreover, NATO and the EU have only invited ‘free’ countries to accession negotiations. Whereas ‘free’ countries are not necessarily invited to accession negotiations immediately, they are not excluded for a long time either. In 2004, ten of 11 countries rated ‘free’ were NATO members, and eight of them joined the EU. Bulgaria and Romania concluded their accession negotiations and were on the way to join in 2007. Croatia, which had achieved the status of a ‘free’ country only in 2000, was part of NATO’s Membership Action Plan and started accession negotiations with the EU in 2005. Within the group of ‘free’ countries, the correlation between human rights performance and status is less clear cut. For instance, judged by the Freedom House rankings, Lithuania should have joined Estonia and Slovenia for the first round of EU accession negotiations, and all three countries should have participated in the first round of NATO enlargement. The highest status groups, however, are always recruited from the best performers (with a rating of 1 for political rights and 2 for civil rights). These conditions hold regardless of other characteristics that the candidate countries might have. For instance, Croatia or Slovakia were not invited to accession negotiations before adopting the liberal-democratic community rules, even though their economic performance was better than that of some of the invitees. Conversely, the relative poverty of countries such as Bulgaria or Romania did not exclude them from the accession process once their liberal democratic performance had attained acceptable levels. Nor did the exposed geographic location of the Baltic countries prevent them from becoming members of NATO. The sufficiency of adopting the liberal-democratic community rules for being invited to open accession negotiations is corroborated by further pieces of evidence on the selection process. In their evaluations of candidate countries, both NATO and the European Commission postulated the fulfilment of political conditions as a sine qua non, whereas other conditions were treated much more loosely. As to NATO, in the Study on NATO Enlargement as well as in the talks with the candidate countries, financial contributions as well as military power and efficiency played a secondary role and were formulated in soft

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language. NATO merely required ‘the ability of prospective members to contribute militarily to collective defence and to the Alliance’s new missions’ (NATO 1995: section 75) but did not specify any quality or quantity of military contributions. NATO further demanded no more than financial contributions ‘based, in a general way, on “ability to pay” ’ (section 65). As for the EU, in its 1997 Opinions on the candidate countries, the European Commission evaluated their ability ‘to cope with competitive pressure and market forces within the Union’, their ‘capacity to take on the obligations of membership’, and their ‘administrative and legal capacity’ in the medium term, whereas the institutionalization of fundamental liberal norms (democracy, human and minority rights, functioning market economy) was assessed in its present condition. This also indicates that compliance with the constitutive liberal community rules was a ‘hard’, non-negotiable criterion whereas economic and administrative capacities ranked lower and did not have to be in place before a candidate qualified for opening accession negotiations. It was only during the accession negotiations that the candidates were required to adopt the specific, technical rules of NATO and the EU in addition to the liberal community rules. In sum, then, the adoption of constitutive community rules – indicated here by being rated a ‘free’ country – has indeed been a necessary condition of accession negotiations with and membership in the EU or NATO. Countries that did not fulfil this condition were not invited and stood no chance to join. Allowing for time lags, being a ‘free’ country has also been a sufficient condition for starting accession negotiations with the two exclusive community organizations. Whereas target countries are not invited to join immediately after they have become ‘free’ according to the Freedom House ranking, they are considered serious candidates and not excluded from the accession process for a long time – provided that their human rights record remains good. Moreover, the better their performance within the group of ‘free’ countries, the better is their chance of being invited to join. These findings also indicate that all Eastern European countries have been judged impartially, in general, according to the community’s standard of legitimacy. Military intervention On two major occasions, the Western international community went beyond the low-cost strategy of reinforcement by reward and used coercive means to overcome non-compliance with the community norms: the military interventions in Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1995 and the war on Yugoslavia in 1999. Both meet the condition of massive and systematic government-induced violations of fundamental human rights in the community region. On the other hand, the costs were not prohibitive and chances of success were reasonable. The systematic ‘ethnic cleansing’ in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo arguably constituted the most atrocious violation of human rights in postCold War Europe. Ethnic cleansing consists in the attempt of an ethnic group

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 49

to expel the members of other ethnic groups from territory it claims exclusively for itself. In Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo, the means to achieve this goal included the pillage of houses and villages, mass deportation and internment, systematic rape, torture and killing. Whereas members of all ethnic groups became both perpetrators and victims of ethnic cleansing, most of the crimes and the cruellest practices of ethnic cleansing were committed by Serb forces tacitly or openly backed by the Yugoslav or Serbian government (Calic 1995: 119–45). The human rights abused in ethnic cleansing belong to the category of most fundamental human rights: the rights to life and physical integrity. In addition, the abuses were massive: millions fled their homes and hundreds of thousands were killed. These characteristics increased the pressure on the Western international community to move beyond reinforcement by reward. Neither Bosnia-Herzegovina nor Kosovo were strategically or economically important to the member states of the Western international community. After the end of the Cold War, Yugoslavia had lost its geopolitical relevance. Moreover, there was no need to intervene in order to prevent or stop negative security externalities of the civil wars for the community members. By sealing off their borders, they were able to protect themselves effectively from the consequences. They were able to keep the refugee problem in manageable proportions and they were neither threatened nor drawn into the wars by alliances with any of the participants (Hasenclever 2001: 362–80). Therefore, whereas the community states and organizations felt obliged to do something about the war and the ethnic cleansing in Yugoslavia early on, they shied away from the risks and costs of a military intervention. Rather, they tried various low-cost strategies such as humanitarian assistance, peacekeeping, diplomatic mediation efforts, embargoes and, later in the process, momentary military threats and selective air strikes. It soon became clear, however, that these instruments were not sufficient to stop the human rights violations and end the plight of the population. In addition, the Western international community faced strong public criticism for its unwillingness or inability to put an end to such atrocities in the middle of Europe. In particular, when Serb forces overran the UN protected areas of Srebrenica and Zepa in the summer of 1995 and killed some 7000 people that had trusted the UN’s and NATO’s safety guarantee – while Dutch peacekeeping forces stood by helplessly – Western governments came under heavy moral pressure to act decisively (Hasenclever 2001: 407–19). At the same time, the military situation on the ground had improved thanks to the Croatian offensive in the west of Bosnia and the pullout of vulnerable peacekeeping forces. As a result, the risks had decreased with the increase of moral pressure; a defeat of the Serbian forces was both less costly and more likely than in previous years. In this situation, NATO launched its Operation Deliberate Force and within 12 days of bombing, the Bosnian Serb leadership agreed to negotiating a peace agreement.

50 International Socialization in Europe

The military intervention in the Kosovo crisis followed the Bosnian precedent. Because of the lessons learned three years before, NATO threatened air strikes already at the beginning of the escalation of violence in Kosovo and initially succeeded in obtaining the cooperation of the Serbian government and a peaceful settlement. When, however, the truce was systematically undermined by operations of Serbian forces and the Serbian government refused to accept a new deal at the Rambouillet talks, NATO felt obliged to follow through with its threats and start the bombing of Yugoslavia. Both the gravity of the human rights violations and the fact that they took place in the heart of Europe have contributed to the military response of the Western international community in the absence of significant material security threats or interests. In this perspective, other systematic human rights violations have not elicited the same moral and social pressure because they were either mainly political and did not involve the massive threats to life and personal integrity characteristic of the ethnic cleansing in the former Yugoslavia, or because they took place at the rim or outside of the core community region. An example of the first case is the Lukashenka dictatorship in Belarus; an example of the second case is the civil war in Chechnya. In both cases, however, a coercive intervention of the Western international community would have gone against core Russian interests and therefore caused prohibitive costs. Therefore Western military inaction was rather overdetermined. Eastern enlargement Community effects have also been crucial for the EU and NATO to promise and grant the Eastern European countries membership.22 Because of low interdependence, the security and welfare benefits of Eastern enlargement for the member states were small. On the other hand, potential costs were high. In both organizations, Eastern enlargement brought in new member states that were poorer, less developed and less secure than the average of the old member states. Therefore, they were likely to contribute less than the old members to the collective goods (such as military equipment and forces or the EU budget) while consuming more from them, on average. In addition, enlargement increases decision and transaction costs: administrative costs rise, communication becomes more cumbersome, and expenses for translation and interpreting increase disproportionately. The greater heterogeneity of attitudes and preferences that comes with enlargement makes it more difficult to reach decisions, in particular under the consensus rule of NATO and the unanimity and qualified majority rules of the EU. Because of this negative cost-benefit assessment, the great majority of EU and NATO member states have been reluctant initially to commit themselves to enlargement. In the early 1990s, both organizations discouraged the Eastern European aspirants from applying for membership and offered them association instead: NACC and PfP in the case of NATO and the European Community’s Europe Agreements.

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 51

These arrangements represented efficient institutional solutions, which reflected the constellation of preferences and bargaining power. NACC and PfP deepened and institutionalized cooperation with all Eastern European countries, involved them in the task of peacekeeping, and burdened them with the costs of making their forces interoperable with those of NATO without, at the same time, creating any formal obligations to guarantee their security, antagonizing Russia, and weakening the cohesion and effectiveness of the alliance. Likewise, the Europe Agreements liberalized economic exchange between the EU and its associates, thus creating opportunities for welfare gains. At the same time, however, the association regime protected poorer EU members and noncompetitive producers from trade and budget competition with the Eastern European countries by equipping them with safeguard measures in those sectors in which they were particularly vulnerable to trade liberalization, and by blocking the Eastern Europeans’ access to subsidies from the Community budget. Finally, association also served to avoid the management and decision costs of enlargement. Given the strongly asymmetrical interdependence in favour of the Western international community, the Eastern European countries did not have the economic or military bargaining power to force the EU or NATO to admit them. With legitimacy on their side, however, the democratic Eastern European countries could use rhetorical action and social influence to put normative and moral pressure on the reluctant member states. They framed enlargement as an issue of community identity and argued that it ought not to be seen and decided from the vantage point of national interests and material cost-benefit calculations. They invoked the principles of liberal community, pointed to their achievements in adopting these principles, and predicted dire consequences for the democratic consolidation of Eastern Europe should membership be denied. In addition, they demanded that the community organizations stick to their past promises and practices of enlargement to democratic European countries, and accused reticent member states of acting inconsistently and betraying the fundamental values and norms of their own community (Schimmelfennig 2001: 68–72; 2003a: 230–6). This framing and shaming made it very difficult for the member states to reject enlargement on legitimate grounds. Together with their main supporters within the community organizations – the United States in the case of NATO; the European Commission, Germany, and Britain in the case of EU enlargement – the Eastern European countries were thus able to commit both organizations to granting membership to successfully socialized Eastern European countries. In the EU, the working of community effects also made sure that this promise was kept in the face of continued scepticism by many member state governments and societies, and of difficult negotiations on the institutional and policy reforms necessitated by Eastern enlargement. In sum, both the military interventions in Yugoslavia and Eastern enlargement are difficult to reconcile with the rationalist expectation of low-cost

52 International Socialization in Europe

socialization efforts by the community organizations of the Western international community. In a situation of low and asymmetrical interdependence, community effects of rhetorical action, legitimation, and social influence produced socialization policies that went beyond the material interests of the community member states. In both instances, the identity of the Western international community and its fundamental values and norms were at stake in obvious and extreme ways. In an extremely negative way, they were challenged by the ethnic cleansing in the former Yugoslavia; and in an extremely positive way, they were reaffirmed through the democratic transformation of Eastern Europe.

Conditions of effectiveness Now that we have described and explained the socialization strategies of the Western community organizations, the next question is under which conditions they will be effective in bringing about rule-conforming political change in the target states of Eastern Europe. In line with the general assumptions of the strategic approach and with the specific context conditions of international socialization in Eastern Europe, we propose the following set of expectations. The initial condition for these expectations is the existence of a target state in which democratic and human rights norms are systematically violated as a consequence of domestic law and/or government practice. First, and most fundamentally, we do not expect community effects to matter for compliance in any significant way. As explicated above, the target states are yet to become community members and are therefore not constrained by prior normative commitments and community social influence. We therefore assume that target state compliance will strictly depend on tangible (material and political) costs and benefits. Target states will comply if these tangible benefits exceed the costs of compliance. This entails that persuasion and social reinforcement strategies of international socialization will not be effective and that the OSCE and CE, which do not have the capability to use material reinforcement, will not be successful on their own in producing compliance in rule-violating target states. Conversely, only the EU and NATO have the potential to succeed in socializing these states. The general socialization strategy of the EU and NATO is material reinforcement by reward. Under this policy, it is ultimately up to the target state to decide whether it accepts the costs of rule adoption in exchange for the promised benefits. Whatever choice it makes, it will not be punished or coerced; it might only forego the reward. For two reasons, we suggest that these decisions will depend on the size of domestic costs rather than variation in EU and NATO rewards. First, thanks to the community effects of rule-consistency and impartiality, the EU and NATO have generally pursued a meritocratic policy of socialization. Both organizations are, in principle, open to the accession of all European countries and have set

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 53

the same norm-based political membership conditions for all candidates. They have not discriminated against individual non-member countries because of their strategic, economic, or cultural characteristics. Second, the material incentives of EU and NATO membership are high for all Eastern European countries. These have generally sought protection against a potential Russian threat and the ethnic wars in the region, and they depend on the EU market and investments. Thus, if EU and NATO membership incentives are high and accessible to all target countries on the same conditions, the internationalrewards side of the cost-benefit balance can be treated as a constant. It also follows that any explanation of the divergence of reinforcement outcomes must be based on different domestic conditions and costs. We further expect that the effectiveness of the EU’s and NATO’s socialization policy will depend on intergovernmental material reinforcement by reward and, thus, on the domestic political costs of the target government. This expectation is based on the state-centric domestic structure and the electoral volatility in the Eastern European countries. As a broad rule, the domestic structure in the transformation countries of Eastern Europe has been characterized by the weakness of society vis-à-vis the state. This is obvious in the presidential systems of government that prevail in the former Soviet republics but also applies to the advanced parliamentary democracies of central Europe. Even here, political parties have been organized top-down, have no or only weak roots in society and social organizations, and depend on the state for their resources. A powerful civil society has failed to emerge despite promising beginnings in the revolutions of 1989. Rather, levels of political participation have declined. This domestic structure gives both governments and parties ample space for discretionary decision making and strongly limits the influence of societal actors on day-to-day policymaking.23 Because societal strength is a necessary condition of effective transnational reinforcement, this channel is unlikely to be effective in the international socialization of Eastern Europe. To be sure, most Eastern European governments are generally subject to the most powerful sanctioning mechanism of society: electoral confirmation and defeat. ‘Electoral democracies’ have come into being early in the transition process and have persisted even though many Eastern European countries have failed to institutionalize consolidated ‘liberal democracies’ (Diamond 1996: 23–5). Even the most illiberal Eastern European governments have not prohibited independent opposition parties or abolished elections altogether; and even unfair elections can hold unpleasant surprises for the incumbents.24 However, if elections are to serve as an effective instrument of reinforcement, a majority of the electorate must consistently reward rule-conforming and punish rule-violating state actors and programmes. It seems, however, that actual voting behaviour is more strongly shaped by immediate concerns with personal security and welfare than by concerns about the government’s conformance with community rules. Most often, changes in government have been caused by societal dissatisfaction with the hardships

54 International Socialization in Europe

of economic shock therapy, economic mismanagement by the incumbent government, and corruption scandals, and this dissatisfaction has turned against reform-friendly and reform-adverse governments alike (Jasiewicz 1998: 186; Pravda 2001: 26–7). The ascendance of centrist political forces in the Romanian and Bulgarian elections of 1996/97, the Slovak elections of 1998, and the Croatian and Serbian elections of 2000 certainly strengthened the reform orientation of these countries but it was predominantly the economic situation that brought about the change. As the subsequent election outcomes (2000/01 in Bulgaria and Romania, and 2003/04 in Croatia and Serbia) show, voters may again shift their allegiance away from the most western-oriented political forces if these fail to provide for effective governance and an improvement of the economic situation. Thus, we suggest that elections in Central and Eastern Europe be best treated as a ‘random factor’ that sometimes happens to provide an opening for improved compliance but does not work consistently in favour of rule adoption. Finally, adopting the liberal political rules of the European international community means a loss in autonomy and power for the rule-violating target governments. They have to respect the outcome of free and fair elections, the competencies of courts and parliaments, the rights of the opposition and national minorities, and the freedom of the media. These high political costs need to be balanced in kind by international rewards that will increase the political autonomy and power of the government – such as military protection and cooperation, substantial financial and economic assistance, and participation in important international decisions.25 Such international rewards will only come with EU and NATO membership. We therefore suggest that only the reward of membership in the EU and NATO will bring about rule-conforming political change in rule-violating target countries. In addition, the reward of membership needs to be credible. Credible reinforcement requires that both the promise of rewarding in case of rulecompliance and the threat of withholding the reward in case of noncompliance be credible. The credibility of the threat to deny the Eastern European countries EU or NATO membership has been high throughout the post-Cold War period and a direct corollary of the Western international community’s asymmetrical and low interdependence with Eastern Europe. Thus, denying membership to non-compliant Eastern European countries was not only cheap but probably even cheaper for EU and NATO member states than granting membership. For exactly this reason, the real problem has been the credibility of the promise, which decreases as the costs of rewarding incurred by the socialization agency increase. Fortunately, the same community effects that produced rule-consistent, impartial, and meritocratic enlargement decisions of the community organizations thereby also enhanced the credibility of reinforcement by reward. They not only strengthened the credibility of the threat by ensuring that rule-violating countries would be blocked from membership but, more importantly, they created sufficient legitimacy constraints

European Socialization Agencies and Strategies 55

and social influence for the community organizations to make and uphold their promise of membership for rule-adopting countries. Moreover, they made sure that the EU and NATO judged the target countries by roughly the same standards. In sum, we suggest that the reward of EU and NATO membership was only effective in producing political change after the target country had attained a credible promise of accession. Yet, if we assume that it is the ultimate goal of target state governments to maintain political power, even highly credible EU and NATO membership incentives will not work under any circumstances. Power costs increase the more that the liberal community rules affect the security and integrity of the state, the government’s power base, and its core political practices for power preservation. In the area of human rights and democracy, these costs will be perceived as high, for instance, if the target government relies on authoritarian practices to preserve its power or if it expects minority rights to encourage separatism or to make minority parties major players in domestic politics. We therefore hypothesize that target governments will not comply with the liberal community rules if compliance amounts to a fall of the government from power. As regime change would imply a permanent loss of political power for the ruling elite, authoritarian states and governments are most unlikely to comply with community demands even if they are linked to the prospect of NATO and EU membership. But even in a functioning democratic system, in which future re-election is possible, governments are reluctant to comply if compliance leads to their collapse – for instance, if coalition partners leave the government or the government loses its parliamentary majority. On the basis of these theoretical considerations and empirical assessments, we come to our core hypothesis about the effectiveness of Western socialization strategies in Eastern Europe: Only the credible conditional promise of EU and NATO membership succeeds in bringing about the compliance of rule-violating countries with the liberal rules of the Western international community – but only if compliance does not result in the fall of the target government from power. In other words, a credible EU and/or NATO membership perspective and low domestic political costs of rule adoption are both individually necessary and jointly sufficient conditions of successful socialization. In the remainder of the book, we will test this hypothesis.

Notes 1 See US Department of State Dispatch, vol. 6, no. 26, 26 June 1995, in http:// dosfan.lib.uic.edu/ERC/briefing/dispatch/1995/html/Dispatchv6no26.html (4 July 2005). 2 Further criteria concern the capacity of candidate countries to cope with competitive pressure within the Union, and the ability to adopt and implement the acquis, as well as the capacity of the EU to absorb new members without endangering the momentum of European integration.

56 International Socialization in Europe 3 Of course, persuasion strategies could also be further differentiated. This, however, is not necessary for the argument of this study. See, for example, Gheciu (2005). 4 See the discussion of positive sanctions combined with ‘assurances’ not to punish the target actor for non-compliance in Baldwin (1971: 25–7) and Davis (2000: 12). On positive incentives, see also Bernauer and Ruloff (1999). 5 The CE made a principled decision not to include the Central Asian successor countries of the Soviet Union. 6 See Adler (1998) and Merlingen and Ostrauskaite˙ (2005) on the OSCE. 7 Agence Europe (AE), 20 January 1989. 8 AE, 24–25 April 1989. 9 AE, 22 November 1989. 10 AE, 1 June 1991. 11 AE, 27 February 1992. 12 AE, 14 May 1992. 13 AE, 16–17 November 1992. 14 AE, 24 July 1993. 15 See http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/human_rights/doc/eidhr02_04. pdf (11 July 2005). 16 In this book ‘billion’ is used with its American meaning of a thousand million. 17 ‘Partnership for Peace: Framework Document’, in http://www.nato.int/docu/comm/ 49-95/c940110b.htm (7 July 2005). 18 Later in the process, self-differentiation was expanded to Individual Partnership Action Plans. 19 We leave aside the OSCE for the moment because, in contrast to the CE, its inclusive membership has been a legacy of the Cold War. 20 See Harris, G. (2002); Schimmelfennig (2001: 64); Sedelmeier and Wallace (2000: 457) and the Eurobarometer polls cited there. 21 Freedom House is a US-based non-governmental organization publishing annual reports on ‘Freedom in the World’ (www.freedomhouse.org (14 February 2006)). Its central indicators are ratings for ‘political rights’ (PR) and ‘civil liberties’ (CL) ranging from 1 (best) to 7 (worst). On their basis, Freedom House constructs a ‘Freedom Index’ classifying countries as ‘free’, ‘partly free’, or ‘not free’. Freedom House data are widely used as an up-to-date indicator of liberal democracy (Diamond 1996: 24) and provide an assessment independent of the community organizations’ own ranking. The following analysis is based and expands on Schimmelfennig (2003a: 95–108; 2005a: 123). 22 For a full and detailed analysis, see Schimmelfennig (2001; 2003a). 23 There is broad agreement in the literature on this general assessment. See, for example, Ágh (1998a: 52, 106); Birch (2000: 15–16); Kaldor and Vejvoda (1999: 11, 19–22); Lewis (2001: 546, 556); Sitter (2001: 75–6, 87). 24 See the Yugoslav elections in 2000 or the Ukrainian elections in 2004. See Jasiewicz (1998: 166). 25 See Mattli (1999) for a similar argument on the incentives of non-member states to join regional integration schemes.

4 Research Design: Variables, Cases and Methods

This chapter bridges the theoretical and the empirical part of the book. We further specify our main hypothesis and operationalize the variables that we use in our comparative research on the effectiveness of international socialization in the European transformation countries. Then, we justify our selection of cases and describe how we will analyze them.

Variables Whereas we define ‘compliance with community rules’ as our dependent variable, the core explanatory or test variables come from our main hypothesis: size and credibility of external incentives and domestic costs. We add three constructivist control variables: legitimacy, identification, and resonance. Our basic categorization of the variables is dichotomous. The reason is that we are mainly interested in thresholds of effectiveness. For the dependent variable, we distinguish compliance from non-compliance, and for the independent variables, we distinguish a positive value and a negative value. The threshold for a positive value is the expectation – based on our hypotheses – that the value of the independent variable will enable or promote compliance. A negative value indicates that compliance will be impeded. For some variables, we further differentiate the positive and negative values, and distinguish very positive from slightly positive as well as very negative from slightly negative values. We do so when we assume that we might otherwise lose potentially meaningful information and causally relevant variation on the independent variables. The dependent variable (that which is to be explained) is ‘compliance’. We chose ‘compliance’ because there is no pretension here to study international socialization in any historical depth and to examine whether countries really adhere to challenged community rules in the absence of external incentives.1 Rather, we study how target states reacted to the demands of international organizations for domestic change and under which conditions they complied with these demands. In each case, the story usually ends with initial compliance. 57

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We treat compliance as a dichotomous variable. Either a country complies with the demands of the regional organizations or it does not. The main indicator is legal rule adoption. A state is considered to be in compliance if it has signed a treaty and/or passed a law containing the rule promoted by the community organization. Thus, compliance goes beyond political declarations of acceptance. By contrast, we did not check implementation and subsequent rule-based state behaviour consistently. On the one hand, it would have caused major problems of data collection to arrive at cross-nationally valid measures of behavioural compliance. On the other hand, the Western organizations were generally content with legal adoption and greeted the passing of norm-conforming laws as indications that their demands were fulfilled. Our independent variables can be subdivided into rationalist variables derived from the bargaining approach to international socialization and constructivist variables. The rationalist variables are ‘incentives’, ‘credibility’, and ‘costs’. These are our test variables because they are part of our hypothesis about the effectiveness of international socialization in Eastern Europe: that credible EU and/or NATO membership incentives and low domestic power costs are individually necessary and jointly sufficient conditions of compliance. The constructivist variables are ‘legitimacy’, ‘identification’ and ‘resonance’. They not only feature as conditions of community effects on strategic action (see Chapter 2) but also constitute the core explanatory variables of compliance in the constructivist literature on international socialization.2 They are our control variables because we seek to show that, in the relationship between community insiders and outsiders, these conditions are not causally relevant. The variables can also subdivided into international and domestic conditions. The international conditions refer to attributes of the community organizations’ strategies (incentives, credibility, and legitimacy) and the domestic conditions to attributes of the target government (costs, identification, resonance). Incentives. This variable measures the kind and size of the incentives offered to the individual target country in order to promote compliance. According to our hypothesis, the threshold is the incentive of EU and/or NATO membership (
). All non-material strategies (persuasion and social reinforcement) and all smaller tangible incentives (such as cooperation and association agreements and financial aid) are not expected to produce compliance (). Credibility. We treat credibility as an intervening variable that modifies the impact of the type and size of the incentives on compliance. For each type and size of incentive, impact will increase with credibility. Credibility requires the credibility of the threat of withholding rewards or inflicting punishment in case of non-compliance, and the credibility of the promise to pay the reward or abstain from punishment in case of compliance. The presence of both the

Research Design: Variables, Cases and Methods 59

credibility of the threat and the credibility of the promise thus define the positive threshold (
). If one or the other is absent, the value for credibility is negative (). For each data point, we assess the credibility of the highest incentive offered by the community organizations for the individual target country. In the most important case for testing our hypothesis, the EU and NATO membership incentive, the credibility of the threat has been strong throughout. We thus mainly evaluate the credibility of the promise. A positive assessment requires that the EU and NATO not only offer a general membership perspective but make an explicit conditional offer to the target state. Costs. This variable measures the target government’s domestic political or power costs of accepting the demands of the community organizations and adopting the liberal community rules. We distinguish three values of the domestic costs variable. Domestic costs are low if rule adoption engenders no or negligible power costs for the target government. This is the case if compliance is not perceived to endanger the dominance of the ethnic core group, to threaten the integrity and security of the state, or to undermine the target government’s practices of power preservation and its institutional power in the state apparatus. This is also our threshold value for compliance (
). Otherwise, we consider domestic costs to be high and to inhibit compliance. We further distinguish between high () and very high domestic costs (). Threats to the security and integrity of the state or to the established system of rule or regime qualify as very high. Threats to the survival of the government that do not put into question the security of the state or the regime qualify as high. For each data point, we assess the likely political consequences of compliance for the target government. When in doubt, we take into consideration the perceptions of government leaders. Legitimacy. Rule legitimacy refers to the quality of the rules that the community organizations wanted the target states to adopt and that they used as conditions in their reinforcement strategies. According to Thomas Franck (1990: 38), it depends on ‘the clarity with which the rules communicate, the integrity of the process by which they were made and are applied, their venerable pedigree and conceptual coherence’. Obviously, the minimal condition is that demands on the target governments must be based on organizational rules rather than mere ad hoc interests of the member states. Moreover, if the democratic and human rights rules disseminated by the community organizations are clearly defined, consensually shared, and consistently applied among their member states, their compliance pull will be high. Correspondingly, we categorize consensually shared and consistently applied external rules as ‘high legitimacy’, which is also the threshold value for the expectation of compliance in a social-constructivist perspective (
). If external rules are ad hoc, ambiguously defined or inconsistently used, or neither shared nor

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met by (a significant number of) the organization’s member states, their legitimacy is considered to be low (). The rules of liberal democracy and human rights usually meet the prerequisites of high legitimacy. The major exception are minority rights, which – in contrast with individual nondiscrimination rules – do not belong to the traditional liberal human rights catalogue of Western democracies, are not part of the EU’s acquis communautaire, and are not shared and accepted by all member states of the community (De Witte 2000: 3; Schwellnus 2005: 56). We thus classify them as ‘low legitimacy’. Whereas this lack of legitimacy should inhibit social influence and persuasion, it should not matter for effective bargaining. Identification. Identification refers to the international community that the target government regards as its relevant international ‘in-group’ and that it aspires to belong to. The positive threshold value (
) conducive to compliance is positive identification with the Western international community. It is indicated if a government consistently describes itself and its state as Western and/or European, as sharing the collective identity, the fundamental values and norms of the Western community, and as aspiring to belong to this community. By contrast, identification is coded as low (), if nationalist or other, non-Western or non-European identity constructions dominate the public self-descriptions of the government. Resonance. This variable refers to the cultural or institutional match of a specific external rule with the already existing domestic values, norms, practices, and discourses in a specific issue-area. We assess this variable at the level of target governments, not state institutions or general public beliefs. If the principles on which community rules are based correspond to, or do not contradict, the basic political beliefs and party ideologies of the government, resonance is conducive to compliance. In line with the literature, we distinguish three degrees of resonance (Checkel 1999: 87; Cortell and Davis 2000: 69). We speak of ‘neutral resonance’ when there are no domestic rules (for instance, if an issue is new) or if old rules have become thoroughly delegitimated as a result of crisis or clear and serious policy failure (Checkel 2001: 562–3). We consider neutral resonance the threshold value for the expectation of compliance (
) because it creates no obstacles to rule adoption. If community rules correspond to the political beliefs and ideologies of the government parties, resonance is high (

); if they are in conflict, resonance is low. For the purpose of our study, we further subdivide the ‘low resonance’ category into ‘reduced’ and ‘very low’ resonance. We consider resonance to be reduced () if government beliefs are contradictory, for instance, in a coalition government with ideologically opposed parties. If government beliefs fully contradict international rules, resonance is very low (). Table 4.1 gives an overview of our variables, their categorization and operationalization.

Table 4.1

Positive

Negative

Variables Incentives

Credibility

Costs

Legitimacy

Identification

Resonance

Compliance

EU and/or NATO membership

Credible promise

Power preservation

Democracy and human rights

With Western or European community

Corresponding beliefs

Legal adoption of community rule

Smaller tangible and all social incentives

Non-credible threats or promises

Collapse of government Threat to regime or state survival

Minority rights

With non-Western or non-European community; nationalism

No opposing beliefs Contradictory beliefs Opposing beliefs

No legal adoption of community rule

61

62 International Socialization in Europe

Cases and methods The countries we selected for our case studies share one characteristic: their governments initially violated liberal-democratic rules of the Western international community systematically as a result of legal or constitutional incompatibility, or regular government practice. This is the necessary precondition for studying the impact and effectiveness of the community organizations’ socialization strategies. In many other respects, however, the countries differ. First, whereas most of them have been successfully socialized over time, some still do not comply with all Western demands and one of them – Belarus – has not changed at all. Moreover, it took them more or less time to adopt the community rules. Second, they violated different kinds of community rules. Whereas some countries disregarded fundamental rules of democracy and the rule of law, others (such as the Baltic countries) only violated rules of minority rights and protection. Still others (the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and Montenegro) pursued plans of independent statehood considered illegitimate by the Western community. Third, they are located in different parts of Europe: the Baltic region, Central Europe, the Balkans, and the Mediterranean. Some of them were part of the Soviet Union (Belarus, the Baltic countries), others were independent states in the Warsaw Pact (Slovakia, Romania) or communist countries outside the Soviet hegemonic sphere (Yugoslavia); still others belonged to the West during the Cold War (Cyprus, Turkey). Political legacies vary, too. We contrast ex-communist countries with countries that did not have a communist history (Cyprus, Turkey). Among the ex-communist countries, some have embarked on transition ‘from below’, under the pressure of social movements and under the leadership of opposition forces (Estonia, Latvia, Slovakia), whereas the others experienced a transition from communism ‘from above’. Finally, the community organizations that have been involved in the socialization of these countries and their strategies have varied over time and across countries. The main rationale for studying this variety of target countries was generalization. We try to arrive at knowledge about the effectiveness of socialization strategies that is not biased by the specificities of, for instance, EU socialization activities, minority protection issues, ex-communist countries, or transition from above, and we are looking for conditions of compliance that function regardless of particular context conditions. In contrast to some of the other literature on the international socialization of Eastern Europe, we do not treat our countries as single observations.3 Treating countries as single observations is problematic because theoretically relevant conditions in the country and in its environment usually vary between issue-areas and are subject to change over time. In our study, an observation is constituted by a constellation of conditions. Whenever the domestic conditions in a country or the international conditions of effective socialization

Research Design: Variables, Cases and Methods 63

change according to our classification developed above (see Table 4.1), this change constitutes a new observation. We employ three methods of within-case comparison in a complementary fashion: congruence, before–after comparison, and process tracing. The congruence method, as defined and described by Alexander George and Andrew Bennett (2005: 181–3), mainly consists in testing the consistency between the expected outcome of a certain condition or set of conditions and the actual outcome. ‘The analyst first ascertains the value of the independent variable in the case at hand and then asks what prediction or expectation about the outcome of the dependent variable should follow from the theory. If the outcome of the case is consistent with the theory’s prediction, the analyst can entertain the possibility that a causal relationship may exist.’ (George and Bennett 2005: 181). In our study, we ascertain the values of our six theoretically derived conditions and check whether the outcome for the period of observation matches the expectations. Ideally, we would find that only one condition, or only one group of either test or the control conditions, is consistent with the outcome. Often, however, we will see that the values of more than one condition or one group of theoretically linked conditions are consistent with the outcome value or that conditions belonging to one theoretical cluster point in different directions. Even if the results for a single case confirm a single condition or group of conditions, we cannot be sure that it will hold for other outcomes and constellations of conditions, nor can we exclude that there is only a spurious relationship between the congruent conditions and outcomes. For these reasons, George and Bennett are right to emphasize the tentative nature of the causal conclusions that the researcher may draw from a simple test of congruence. To refine and strengthen the findings from the congruence method, we use before–after comparisons and process tracing, in addition. As said above, we analyze a new observation whenever the value of one of our independent variables changes in the course of the international socialization process. This gives us the opportunity to make a before–after comparison, which is mainly a temporal extension of the congruence method. For each putative condition of effective socialization, we assess whether a change in its value resulted in the theoretically expected change in the outcome (compliance or non-compliance). Ideally, again, we would observe a significant change in only one of the conditions from a negative to a positive value. If the outcome changed from non-compliance to compliance, this would give a strong indication of causal relevance for this condition. The before–after comparison improves on the simple congruence method in two ways. First, we can actually observe the effects or non-effects of a change in one of the conditions and compare two sets of conditional constellations and their effects. Second, it is more unlikely that we will observe a change in more than one condition at the same time that we observe congruence between condition and outcome for more than one condition. But we still cannot exclude

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concomitant change of two or more conditions or the possibility that a simultaneous change in the condition and the outcome may not be causally related. Process tracing has the potential to disentangle the causal effects of concomitant conditional influences and changes, and to check the causal relation between condition and outcome. ‘The process-tracing method attempts to identify the intervening causal process – the causal chain and causal mechanisms – between an independent variable (or variables) and the outcome of the dependent variable.’ (George and Bennett 2005: 206). That is, for each independent variable that is consistent with the outcome and changes consistently together with outcome, the analyst has to formulate theoretical expectations about the causal pathway leading from condition to outcome and to collect additional data for researching this pathway. A causal relationship is established if the analyst is able to present evidence for an ideally uninterrupted causal process from condition to outcome that, at the same time, excludes alternative causal processes linked to alternative conditions and explanations. In our case studies, we do not conduct a full process-tracing analysis, which would have required extensive research and taken up a lot of space in the empirical chapters. We use it, first, to show how the presence or absence of our hypothesized conditions of successful socialization combined to produce an outcome. In particular, we describe the reactions of the target governments to international socialization strategies. We are thereby able to see whether reactions fit with, or are justified by, the structural domestic conditions and to disentangle which international strategies trigger which reactions. Second, we use process tracing when multiple conditions point in the same direction in order to determine which one was most likely to be the causally relevant one. Taken together, these within-case methods allow us to better assess what really mattered for the compliance or non-compliance of the target countries. Yet the problem remains that the variation of constellations of independent variables is fairly limited for most of the countries. Some values of the conditions just cannot be observed or do not vary within a single country. For this reason, we move on to a between-case comparative analysis in Chapter 14. The country studies are analytical: we limit our descriptions and process analyses to what is needed for assessing and distinguishing the causal effects of alternative conditions of compliance. For each of the country studies, we draw on a variety of sources. First, we draw on the literature, in particular to assess the domestic conditions of compliance: the costs of compliance, identification, and resonance. The core of the empirical research consisted in the analysis of documents of the community organization and of daily news services such as Agence Europe, RFE/RL Newsline, NATO Enlargement Daily Brief, or Turkish Daily News, which have allowed us to keep close track of the reactions of the target governments to the conditions and demands of the community organizations. Both were indispensable for the process-tracing analysis. In

Research Design: Variables, Cases and Methods 65

addition, and to a much lesser degree, we have conducted background interviews with officials of the community organizations and in some of the target countries to gain additional insights, and to back up and double-check our findings. The country chapters follow a similar basic template. We begin by describing the initial rule violations in the target country, and then turn to the demands and socialization strategies of the community organizations and an assessment of the international conditions. Next, we ascertain the domestic conditions of compliance in the target countries, followed by a description of the processes and outcomes of the socialization process. In some chapters, we further divide the analysis according to different temporal stages of the socialization process or different issues of rule violation.

Notes 1 See definition in Chapter 1. 2 Checkel (2001: 562–3); Johnston (2001: 498–9); Risse (2000: 19). For a more detailed discussion of socialization mechanisms and conditions see Schimmelfennig (2003c; 2005b). 3 See, for example, Flockhart (2005), Kubicek (2003), and some of our earlier own work (Schimmelfennig, Engert and Knobel 2003).

5 Belarus

Belarus is a negative benchmark case in our comparative analysis. The conditions of effective international socialization hypothesized by both the bargaining and the social learning mechanism were largely absent in the Belarus case. Correspondingly, the impact of Western organizations on the political development of Belarus and its compliance with Western political norms was expected to be negligible. The analysis starts with the election of Alyaksandr Lukashenka as President of Belarus in 1994 and the subsequent establishment of an autocratic or dictatorial regime that severely violated the liberal-democratic norms of the Western international community. To this day, neither the structural international and domestic conditions nor Belarusian non-compliance with Western demands have changed. Therefore, the analysis of Belarus does not need to be subdivided into issues and phases and can be conducted as a single case study.

Conflict and rule violation Belarus has always been a laggard in the Eastern European transformation process. The Communist leadership of the Belorussian Republic of the Soviet Union largely ignored the policies of glasnost and perestroika, and backed the coup d’état against President Gorbachev in August 1991. When the coup d’état failed, the Communist Party was banned and the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet was replaced by Stanislau Shushkevich who was not a member of the Communist Party. In contrast, the parliament (Supreme Soviet) elected in 1990 was not dissolved and remained a stronghold of the Communist establishment. The opposition, mainly represented by the Belarusian Popular Front, only had about ten per cent of the seats. Together with Prime Minister Vyachaslav Kebich, the parliamentary majority systematically undermined the cautious reform agenda and moderately nationalist policies of Shushkevich and, finally, managed to remove him from office on fabricated charges of corruption in early 1994. Nevertheless, the political system of Belarus showed some signs of liberalization during this period. Media pluralism, a multi-party system and the 66

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separation of powers emerged during the first years of independence, and a democratic constitution came into force in 1994. When, however, Alyaksandr Lukashenka was elected President in July 1994 under the new constitution, the cautious democratization was reversed and Belarus began to develop into what is today the most autocratic regime in the whole of Europe (Korosteleva 2002; Marples 2002; Sahm 2001). Lukashenka soon sought to concentrate all state powers in his hands. In 1995, he tried to obstruct the election of a new parliament. When he failed to do so, he manipulated a referendum in November 1996 in order to change the constitution in favour of himself. First, he established a bicameral parliament instead of the single-chamber Supreme Soviet. He hand-picked the members of the new lower house from the loyal members of the Supreme Soviet without an election. The deputies of the upper house were to be chosen by the President (and the local councils), too. The disregarded opposition deputies of the elected parliament reacted by establishing a rump parliament, which they claimed to be the only legitimate legislative body. Second, Lukashenka obtained the right to dissolve the parliament and to rule by decree without parliamentary approval. Third, under the new constitution, Lukashenka was able to select the majority of the judges of the constitutional court, another institutional source of opposition. Finally, Lukashenka extended his period of office without elections until 2001. In addition to these constitutional changes, Lukashenka strengthened his personal rule by controlling the recruitment and appointment of government officials at the centre and in the regions. He established state control of the media: independent newspapers were shut down and forced to be printed abroad. Members of the opposition were arrested, prosecuted, and convicted arbitrarily; some have ‘disappeared’. Nongovernmental organizations suffer from persistent administrative and financial harassment. Obviously, the Lukashenka regime violated systematically the core liberaldemocratic principles of the Western international community. It undermined the democratic process, the separation of powers, and the rule of law, and suppressed core civil liberties and political rights such as the freedom of expression and association. Parliamentary and presidential elections continued to take place regularly but were neither free nor fair.

International demands and conditions In the early years of independence, the integration of Belarus into the Western international community proceeded in lockstep with that of the other European successor countries of the Soviet Union. Belarus became a member of the OSCE after independence. In September 1992, it received the status of a special guest of the Council of Europe and applied for membership in March 1993. Also in 1993, it began negotiations on a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) with the European Community. The PCA was signed in

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March 1995. Belarus joined the North Atlantic Cooperation Council in March 1992 and became a NATO partner in January 1995. When Lukashenka started to put his dictatorial regime in place, the integration process began to stagnate. The EU, for instance, made the Interim Agreement to the PCA – which would have put into effect its trade-related provisions ahead of ratification – dependent on democratic and economic reform.1 After the parliamentary election of 1995, the Commission proposed to implement the agreement but the process was halted because of the deteriorating democratic and human rights situation in the course of 1996.2 On the eve of the 1996 referendum, all European organizations condemned Lukashenka’s plans to change the constitution and warned him of negative consequences if he were to proceed (Timmermann 1997: 31–3). After the referendum, they refused to recognize the constitutional changes and the dissolution of the elected parliament. In the OSCE, Belarus was able to avoid a formal condemnation or even suspension of its membership thanks to the support of the Russian Federation. However, the members of the elected parliament continued to occupy the seats of Belarus in the OSCE’s Parliamentary Assembly.3 The CE, which had commissioned various legal opinions on the constitutional changes and sent a fact-finding mission to observe the referendum, suspended the special guest status of Belarus in January 1997. The EU stopped the ratification process for the PCA. In addition, negotiations on a TACIS programme for the 1996–99 period were completely suspended.4 The member states of the EU and the associated countries agreed to suspend all high-level intergovernmental contacts with Belarus. When Lukashenka’s original period of office expired in July 1999, both the EU and the US stopped recognizing him as the ‘legitimate’ President of Belarus.5 Belarus became a pariah state for the Western international community. Although the US joined the European states in shunning the President and government of Belarus, NATO did not take any institutionally relevant action. The partnership with Belarus was suspended for several months in 1999 and 2000 – but this was an act of Belarusian protest against NATO’s military intervention in Kosovo, not of NATO’s disapproval of the political situation in Belarus. However, the actual level of cooperation between NATO and its formal partner Belarus remained extremely low. A NATO–Belarus Charter, similar to those NATO signed with Russia and Ukraine, was discussed but never materialized, and the NATO Parliamentary Assembly suspended its links with the Belarusian Parliament in line with the parliamentary assemblies of the other European organizations. Ahead of the Prague summit in November 2002, Lukashenka reportedly received a message from NATO that his presence was undesirable and was denied a visa by the Czech government.6 The suspension of formal ties and official cooperation with the government of Belarus was the immediate reaction of most European organizations to the establishment of an autocratic regime in Belarus after 1996. In addition,

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they made the resumption of institutionalized cooperation conditional on credible steps towards liberalization and democratization in the country. For instance, the EU declared time and again that EU–Belarusian cooperation ‘cannot proceed in the absence of convincing efforts to re-establish’ a political system ‘which respects the internationally accepted norms for human rights and political freedoms’.7 The so-called ‘step-by-step approach’ has been the official policy of the EU towards Belarus since 1999. In particular, the European organizations demanded four steps as a precondition for ending the isolation of Belarus. The opposition had to be represented in the electoral commission, the government had to grant the opposition fair access to the state media; the electoral legislation had to conform to international standards, and substantial powers had to be returned to the parliament. Later, the CE and the OSCE added, for instance, the release of political prisoners, the establishment of an ombudsman’s office, and the abolishment of the death penalty to the list of demands.8 The efforts of the European organizations, however, were not limited to intergovernmental social and material sanctions as well as political conditionality. International mediation and support to the political opposition and civil society of Belarus complemented this strategy (Wieck 2002). All European organizations considered it vital not to isolate Belarus entirely, but to cultivate links with the opposition and civil society, and to be present in the country. In the first half of 1997, the EU sent a team (including representatives of the CE) to Belarus to mediate between the President and the excluded members of the elected parliament. In the following years, however, the EU abandoned its own mediation efforts. Instead, the ‘Parliamentary Troika’, composed of members of the European Parliament, the Parliamentary Assembly of the CE Parliamentary Assembly of the OSCE, has frequently visited Belarus on fact-finding and mediation missions and, most importantly, in the autumn of 1997, the OSCE established an Advisory and Monitoring Group (AMG) in Minsk with a mandate ‘to assist … the Belarusian authorities in promoting democratic institutions and in complying with OSCE commitments and to monitor and report on this process’ and to consult with the opposition and NGO sector.9 Although the EU finally stopped all financial and technical assistance to the government of Belarus under the TACIS programme, it approved a five million ECU ‘democratization and development programme for civil society in Belarus’ in December 1997.10 The EU funded NGOs, independent media, and youth groups, and promoted the development of European studies in, and partnerships with, Belarusian universities and other academic institutions. Another five million ECU were approved in 2000, but, in line with the general reluctance of the EU to support democratization directly, the amount remained far behind the earlier TACIS aid for Belarus (54 million ECU between 1991 and 1996) and was even considerably lower than the continuing TACIS aid for the no less dictatorial regimes of Turkmenistan and

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Uzbekistan (Charman 2002: 390, 395–6). By comparison, US support to NGOs and opposition groups in Belarus was reported to have amounted to approximately 50 million USD in the two election years of 2000 and 2001 together; in 2003, a ‘Belarus Democracy Act’ sponsored by the House of Representatives called for 40 million USD.11 What are the international conditions under which the Western organizations tried to promote democracy and human rights in Belarus? First, we rate the conditions set by the Western international community as highly legitimate. The European organizations were unified in their demands and focused on consensual, core liberal political rights and procedures. Minority rights were not an issue. Second, the punishments and rewards involved were mainly of a social kind. The suspension of institutional ties and the ban on high-level contacts is best understood as a shunning strategy designed to ostracize the Lukashenka regime. In addition, the regional organizations treated Belarus as a potential member of the community and held out the prospect of welcoming their ‘prodigal son’ back to the family. They expressed their wish ‘to see Belarus take its place among democratic European countries’,12 hoped ‘that Belarus will soon become a member of the democratic family’,13 and ‘underlined their political interest in assisting Belarus to rejoin European democracies’.14 Moreover, the European organizations reminded the Lukashenka regime of its previous commitments, exposed the inconsistencies between words and deeds, and tried to put its international credibility at stake. For instance, the EU General Affairs Council publicly observed ‘a clear gap between the commitment made by the Belarus authorities in the light of the report by the EU observer mission and the situation in the country’.15 And Hans-Georg Wieck, head of the OSCE Advisory and Monitoring Group (AMG) in Belarus, said in September 2000, ‘On election day, the national and international credibility of President Lukashenka is at stake. Documented manipulation will have a devastating political effect on the review of the relations between major European institutions, governments, and Belarus, as well as on public opinion in the democratic states of Europe and North America’ (Wieck 2000: 6). In June 2001, a US State Department spokesman viewed the upcoming presidential elections as ‘an important opportunity for Belarus to reverse the process of self-imposed isolation and to begin to restore its proper place in the Euro–Atlantic community’.16 Material incentives were only involved in the PCA with the EU. Indeed, Aad Kosto, head of the EU’s 1997 fact-finding mission assumed that the extremely bad economic situation of Belarus and its need for economic aid would ‘give us an instrument we will use to force certain changes in the structure and working of the country in the direction of greater democracy’.17 The size of this economic reward was comparatively small, however. First, while the PCA incentive was credible – the EU concluded such agreements with all the other successor states of the Soviet Union – potential EU rewards did not go beyond partnership and cooperation. Second, in contrast with almost all other CEECs, the Lukashenka regime has clearly preferred economic and political integration

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with the Russian Federation over integration with or membership in the EU. Declarations of the Belarusian government such as the March 2002 statement that ‘a long-term strategic goal of Belarus is the membership in the European Union’18 have had little practical meaning. Thus, in sum, whereas the credibility of the European organizations’ political conditionality was generally high, the size of rewards is best rated ‘low’.

Domestic conditions These unfavourable international conditions for political conditionality were combined with both very high domestic adaptation costs and low identification and resonance. After having been elected President in 1994, Lukashenka has done everything to maximize his control over the media and the state apparatus all the way down to the local level, and to curb the autonomy and the competencies of the legislative and judicial bodies. To comply with the democratic norms and demands of the European international community would mean to give up his dictatorship and share power with other state actors. Initially, the monopolization of state power was probably not necessary for Lukashenka to remain in power but a consequence of his unwillingness to share it. Lukashenka was not only highly popular with the electorate, but the opposition has not been able to produce any leader who could match his popularity ratings. Until the presidential elections of 2001, public support for Lukashenka generally oscillated around 40 to 50 per cent of the electorate (compared to around five per cent for his competitors; cf. Korosteleva 2002: 62). Under these circumstances, many observers concluded that the Lukashenka regime was not only built on repression but could count on the consent and loyalty of large parts of the population (Eke and Kuzio 2000; Timmermann 1997: 36). Although the weakness of his competitors has endured, Lukashenka’s confidence ratings, however, have more recently fallen and remained below 40 per cent. A majority of Belarusians oppose extending his term in office, so that he cannot be sure to win again in a free and fair election (such as in 1994).19 In sum, the domestic power costs of adaptation can be rated as very high. Compliance would have ended the dictatorial control of Lukashenka and would have increasingly worsened his re-election prospects. The eclectic and populist ideology of the Lukashenka regime comprises elements of pan-Slavism and Soviet Communism. The regime aspires to closer unity among the Slav republics of the former Soviet Union – Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine – not to integration with the West. Thus, identification is low. The same applies to the resonance of Western human rights and democracy conditions. Leading representatives of the regime openly refused to accept the ‘Western model of society’,20 and, in close resemblance to Soviet practice, they rejected criticism of the Belarusian human rights situation as ‘unacceptable interference in the country’s internal affairs’21 and affirmed that ‘human rights also consist in the right to work, to life, and to paid labour’.22

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Moreover, the regime’s anti-democratic attitude and its orientation towards the Soviet past matched well with the attitudes of large parts of the Belarusian population – in particular in the rural areas that are Lukashenka’s power base. According to the New Democracy Barometer polls, the ‘old regime’ receives better ratings, the antiparliamentary attitudes are stronger, and the desire to return to Communism is considerably higher in Belarus than in the countries to its West (see Rose, Mishler and Haerpfer 1998: 106–11). ‘As nowhere else in the postcommunist region, Western concepts of modern democracy confronted a void.’ (Mihalisko 1997: 224). The norms and rules of liberal democracy are badly understood and foiled by widespread authoritarian attitudes in Belarusian society (Rontoyanni and Korosteleva 2005: 226–9). In addition, support of Western integration measured as approval of EU membership has initially been considerably less than in other Eastern European countries (including Ukraine).23 Even though independent opinion polls have in general recorded major support to EU membership since 2002, the figure is actually decreasing to one third of the respondents if the unrealistic option of parallel integration with Russia and the EU is excluded.24 Since a strong national movement did not emerge in the Soviet era, civil society is only weakly developed (Eke and Kuzio 2000; Merkel 1999: 491–3; Mihalisko 1997: 224). Democratic forces are concentrated in Minsk and do not have much appeal beyond the capital. In addition, the political opposition is fragmented: the 1999 shadow presidential polls (organized by the opposition that did not recognize the extension of Lukashenka’s period of office until 2001) ended in mutual recriminations by the candidates and is considered to have damaged the opposition rather than the regime.25 Furthermore, the opposition could not agree on a common delegation for the OSCEmediated talks, participation in the state-controlled ‘sociopolitical dialogue’, or the parliamentary elections of 2000.26 To be sure, in 2001, the opposition was able to agree on a single presidential candidate to challenge Lukashenka, but according to independent polls he was not approved by more than around a quarter of the electorate.27 In sum, the domestic conditions for an effective impact of European IO conditionality were extremely bad, not only at the elite level but also at the societal level. Viewed together with the low level of material incentives, we would expect the political conditionality and the mediation efforts of European international organizations to fail (see Table 5.1). Moreover, we

Table 5.1

Conditions of international socialization in Belarus

International conditions

Domestic conditions

Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy

Costs

Identification

Resonance

 (low)


(high)


(high)

  (very high)

 (low)

  (very low)

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would not expect support for NGOs and civil society programmes to create an impetus for domestic change in the foreseeable future.

Process and outcome Indeed, none of the measures taken by European organizations has induced the Lukashenka regime to comply with the liberal-democratic norms of the European international community and produced any tangible improvement in the political situation of Belarus. The Lukashenka regime has engaged in tactical concessions at best but carefully avoided any constraints on its use of domestic power. For instance, at the same time as the regime agreed upon negotiations with the OSCE on a mission in Belarus and upon an EU-mediated dialogue with the opposition in 1997, it imposed a huge fine against the Minsk office of George Soros’s Open Society Institute and arrested opposition leader Borshchevsky.28 Within a few weeks, the regime representatives broke off both talks.29 When the AMG was finally set up in February 1998, it was attacked by Lukashenka from the first moment: Lukashenka called it ‘absurd’, and asserted that ‘we do not need such groups’.30 In the summer of 1999, Lukashenka agreed upon a new OSCE initiative for talks between the regime and the opposition to prepare ‘free parliamentary elections’ in 2000 and, in order to avoid a negative resolution of the UN sub-commission on human rights, the Belarusian regime pledged to invite a UN special rapporteur, to take the necessary measures to join the CE, and to hold free and fair parliamentary elections.31 Again, however, when the talks began in September 1999, the human rights situation in the country deteriorated rather than improved. Members of the opposition and independent newspapers were harassed continuously; Viktar Hanchar, the deputy chairman of the dissolved Supreme Soviet, ‘disappeared’ and participants of a ‘Freedom March’ were beaten and detained.32 It is typical of Lukashenka’s cynical approach to liberal norms and the talks with the opposition that he personally rejected a protocol that granted the opposition limited access to the state-controlled media – and had been signed by the opposition and governmental representatives during the OSCE-mediated talks – as a violation of ‘all civilized and democratic norms’ because it allowed the opposition ‘to introduce its censorship in the state media’.33 In January 2000, the electoral code was passed without consultation of the OSCE or the opposition and, in March, the Belarusian authorities initiated their own ‘dialogue’ with loyal associations and parties. After the parliamentary elections of October 2000, Lukashenka and other regime representatives suggested the removal of the AMG altogether, accusing it of acting as ‘a centre of categorical support to the opposition parties’ and ‘an instrument of subversive anti-constitutional activity against the Belarusian state’,34 and of recruiting spies and disguising militants as election monitors.35 On the eve of the presidential elections of 2001, the Belarusian government became increasingly nervous and felt defiant because of the attempts by the

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AMG and other European organizations to organize a dense network of election observers. In May and June 2001, it accused Hans-Georg Wieck, the head of the AMG, of being a German intelligence officer and threatened to expel him from the country.36 Later, it withheld visas from an OSCE election observer group for a few weeks.37 After they were permitted to enter the country, they could do little but declare that the election on 9 September, in which Lukashenka claimed to have gained 75 per cent of the vote, ‘maybe … was somewhat free, … clearly it was not fair’.38 As a result, the organizations of the European international community continued their established policies towards Belarus. Finally, Lukashenka flatly refused TACIS assistance for the development of civil society – denouncing it as EU funding for opposition parties and media as well as ‘college students who are against Lukashenka’.39 It took almost two years until Belarus endorsed an amended version of the programme (in November 1999).40 In March 2001 again, Lukashenka issued a decree banning the use of foreign assistance to the opposition.41 From December 2001 onwards, the Belarusian government stopped extending visas for the AMG diplomats and, time and again, threatened to expel the entire mission. It refused to accredit the new head of mission, Eberhard Heyken, unless the AMG mandate was renegotiated, and subsequently expelled two acting heads in April and June 2002.42 After the accreditation of the last staff member expired in October 2002, the AMG effectively ceased to operate. In response, on 19 November 2002, 14 out of 15 EU member states decided to ban the political leadership of Belarus from entering their countries.43 The US administration followed a few days later. At the beginning of December 2002, Lukashenka declared his readiness to accept a new OSCE mission in Belarus.44 On 30 December 2002, then, negotiations within the OSCE led to an agreement to close the AMG and open a new OSCE Office in Minsk with the mandate ‘of promoting institution-building, consolidating the rule of law, developing relations with civil society, in accordance with OSCE principles and commitments, and developing economic and environmental activities’.45 On 20 February 2003, the OSCE Parliamentary Assembly, in a narrow decision voted to recognize the delegation of the Belarusian parliament created by Lukashenka’s constitution as a full member despite the negative report of an OSCE delegation.46 In April 2003, in another accommodating move towards Belarus and reversal of previous policy, both the US and the 14 EU member states lifted their ban. As Uta Zapf, head of the OSCE Parliamentary Assembly’s ad hoc Working Group on Belarus, noted, ‘the future OSCE mission will have to discuss most of its steps with the authorities, which will allow them inordinate control and allow interference in its activities’. In addition, the new mission’s mandate ‘lacked a whole range of human-rights issues’.47 For instance, democracy, freedom of the press, and human rights were not mentioned in the mandate. Yet, the quality of cooperation between the OSCE and the Belarusian authorities

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did not improve. An observation mission for the local elections in March 2003 could not work effectively, because Belarus postponed its invitation until the last minute. Although in May 2003, Uta Zapf was still ‘encouraged by the openness and readiness’ of Belarusian officials to consider modifications in the country’s electoral code, neither the Electoral Commission nor the Constitutional Court nor the legislature agreed on any changes.48 In January 2004, the Parliamentary Troika was banned from entering the country. Most importantly, the Belarusian government failed to fulfil or compromise on any of the substantive demands of the community and its repression of independent media and civil society organizations reached new heights.49 Finally, Lukashenka had the constitutional two-term limit on the presidency lifted in a referendum on 17 October 2004, thus paving the way for a presidency for life. As a consequence, and in contrast to the more accommodating tactics of 2002 and 2003, the European organizations have recently become more critical and impatient with Belarus. Following a report on the disappearances in Belarus, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe called for ‘maximum political pressure’ on the Lukashenka regime in April 2004.50 The EU excluded Belarus from its ‘New Neighbourhood’ strategy and reintroduced the ban on Belarusian officials after the October referendum, and the US administration stepped up its verbal pressure on ‘Europe’s last dictatorship’ when President George Bush and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice visited the Baltic countries in the spring of 2005.51

Results Throughout the period of observation (1996–2004), the Lukashenka regime did not comply with the substantive demands of the European regional organizations and their conditions for ending the isolation of the last remaining pariah state in Europe. The regime has only made temporary tactical concessions on secondary issues such as the OSCE mission in the country, but the mission has never had a significant impact. In the light of our theoretical expectations, the outcome is rather overdetermined. In a rationalist perspective, it can be explained by a combination of small international incentives and high domestic power costs; in a constructivist perspective, the low identification and resonance of the European international community and its basic norms made compliance unlikely despite the high legitimacy of the community’s conditions. In addition, low resonance and identification at the societal level and an extremely statecentric domestic structure frustrated the community’s attempts to support and mobilize the opposition and civil society via the transnational channel. Even if Lukashenka has recently lost much of his former popularity with the citizens of Belarus, there is no indication that the loss has in any way been caused or influenced by the policies of the Western organizations. The domestic

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conditions also thwarted any hope by the European international community that the electorate might be able to vote the Lukashenka regime out of office or force it to resign as it had done in other authoritarian states. There is some disagreement and debate among activists, observers, and Western governments as to the appropriate degree of isolation of the Belarusian regime and support to the opposition. Has OSCE engagement contributed to the strengthening of civil society in Belarus, as claimed by Hans-Georg Wieck (2002: 274), or has Western support nurtured a fragmented and sectarian opposition, detached from Belarusian society and more focused on receiving Western moneys than on political work in the country (see, for example, Korosteleva 2002: 60, Silitski 2002: 367)? Have the efforts to isolate the Lukashenka regime not gone far enough or have they proven ineffective and need to be replaced by a more proactive engagement of the regime?52 Our analysis suggests that these options do not matter for compliance. Regardless of the level of support to the opposition and the level of isolation of the regime, the extremely unfavourable conditions in Belarus are likely to frustrate any Western policy aimed at the international socialization of this country.

Notes 1 AE, 8 June 1995. 2 AE, 29 February 1996; 12 June 1996; 26 September 1996. 3 After the 2000 parliamentary elections, the OSCE PA left the seats for the Belarusian delegation empty. 4 AE, 24 December 1997. 5 RFE/RL Newsline, 21 July 1999; SZ, 23 July 1999. 6 RFE/RL Newsline, 13 November 2002. 7 AE, 1 May 1997; cf. AE, 17 September 1997. 8 See, for example, RFE/RL Newsline, 5 February 2002; 11 March 2002. 9 See http://www.osce.org/item/4913.html (15 February 2006); Wieck 2002: 268. 10 AE, 24 December 1997. 11 Jan Maksymiuk, ‘Should Lukashenka be Regarded a Legitimate President?’, RFE/RL Newsline, 11 September 2001; RFE/RL Newsline, 21 July 2003. 12 EU General Affairs Council, Conclusions, in AE, 17 September 1997. 13 Declaration on Belarus by the Secretary General of the Council of Europe, 16 January 1997, in http://press.coe.int/cp/97/18a(97).htm (27 July 2005). 14 Hans-Georg Wieck, The Role of International Institutions in the Belarusian Parliamentary Elections. International Credibility of President Lukashenko at Stake, in http://www. belapan.com/en/analit/302.html (27 July 2005). 15 AE, 30 April 1997; cf. AE, 1 May 1997. 16 RFE/RL Newsline, 18 June 2001. 17 AE, 17 April 1997. 18 ‘Relations between Belarus and the European Union’, Belarusian News, Special Update, 21 March 2002. 19 Vital Silitski, ‘Lukashenka’s popularity rises as no viable alternative to be found’, RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report, 5: 2, 21 January 2003; ‘The fall of the patriarch’, ibid., 5: 19, 20 May 2003; ‘Is Lukashenka winning back hearts and minds?’, ibid., 5: 39, 21 October 2003; RFE/RL Newsline, 2 February 2004.

Belarus 77 20 21 22 23 24

25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

RFE/RL Newsline, 24 June 1998. RFE/RL Newsline, 22 September 1997. Interview with President Lukashenka, SZ, 4 November 1997. Cf. Sahm (2001: 1395). For two surveys conducted in 1999 and 2000, the figures were 29.9 per cent and 15.5 per cent respectively. See RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 5: 2, 21 January 2003; 5: 19, 20 May 2003; RFE/RL Newsline, 2 February 2004. See also White, McAllister and Light (2002: 141–3) who report that around 50 per cent of Belarusians identify as Europeans, have positive impressions of the EU and favour joining the EU. See Jan Maksymiuk, ‘Shadow Elections in Belarus’, RFE/RL Newsline, 21 May 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 10 September 1999; 13 June 2000; Jan Maksymiuk, ‘Belarusian Opposition in (at least) two minds over elections’, RFE/RL Newsline, 29 August 2000. RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 3: 44, 20 November 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 20 June 1997; SZ, 21 June 1997. RFE/RL Newsline, 18 July 1997; SZ, 4 August 1997. RFE/RL Newsline, 6 March 1998. RFE/RL Newsline, 15 July 1999; RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 1: 14, 31 August 1999. Jan Maksymiuk, ‘Lukashenka Prefers Monologue’, RFE/RL Newsline, 29 September 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 16 November 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 29 November 2000; 12 December 2000. FAZ, 5 February 2001; RFE/RL Newsline, 29 January 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 18 May 2001; 11 June 2001. RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 3: 30, 14 August 2001. OSCE mission coordinator Kimmo Kiljunen, quoted in RFE/RL Newsline, 10 September 2001. AE, 22/23 June 1998; RFE/RL Newsline, 18 March 1998. See http://europa.eu.int/comm/external_relations/belarus/intro/index.htm (27 July 2005). RFE/RL Newsline, 15 March 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 7 February 2002; 29 March 2002; 16 April 2002; 3 June 2002. Portugal did not join the EU initiative because it held the OSCE presidency at the time and wanted to keep its options open. See RFE/RL Newsline, 20 November 2002. RFE/RL Newsline, 5 December 2002. See http://www.osce.org/belarus/ (27 July 2005). RFE/RL Newsline, 21 February 2003. RFE/RL Newsline, 7 January 2003. RFE/RL Newsline, 29 May 2003; 16 September 2003; 22 September 2003; 1 October 2003. RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 5: 41, 4 November 2003. RFE/RL Belarus and Ukraine Report 6: 16, 4 May 2004. Jan Maksymiuk, ‘Washington Set to Work for Change in Belarus’, RFE/RL Belarus, and Ukraine Report 7: 19, 17 May 2005. On the disagreement among EU member state governments, see RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 5: 39, 21 October 2003.

6 Yugoslavia (Serbia)

The case study investigates the development of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY)1 from 1995 onwards. Given the high quantity of conflicts and actors, the study is split into two parts or periods of socialization according to regime type. The first period covers the events from the Dayton Peace Agreement in December 1995 to the end of the Miloševic´ regime. As an autocracy, the FRY under Miloševic´ displayed starting conditions similar to Belarus under Lukashenka. Compared to the ‘static’ development of Belarus, however, international conditions have improved significantly since 1999. In addition, domestic conditions progressed considerably in the following three years under the new DOS (Democratic Opposition of Serbia) government. These events are analyzed in the second part of the chapter. The Yugoslav case includes the following unusual features: first, the country was subject to the full range of western conditionality policies ranging from highest incentives to highest sanctions. In addition, the EU’s socialization efforts met different types of domestic regimes (autocratic, democratic) that responded differently to external incentives. The two periods of socialization (Miloševic´ regime, DOS government) cover different sub-conflicts: the

Table 6.1

General overview of the FRY case study Miloševic´ regime (SPS) (December 1995–October 2000)

Cases

New Democratic Government (DOS) (From October 2000 onwards)

1 Regional Approach (from 1996 onwards) 2 Intervention in Kosovo (1999) 3 Stability Pact (from June 1999 onwards) 4 Cooperation with ICTY (from October 2000 onwards)

78

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 79

first period (1995–2000) includes three sub-cases: the EU’s two general integration offers to the Balkans – the ‘Regional Approach’ (RA) and the ‘Stability Pact’ (SP) – as well as NATO’s military intervention in Kosovo. The second period (2000–05) enables us to observe the effects of conditionality under more favourable domestic conditions. For example, compliance with the provisions of the SP had been much higher after regime change. However, as the intra-governmental conflict between the pro-western reformer Zoran Djindjic´ (Prime Minister of Serbia) and the moderate nationalist and reform-cautious Vojislav Koštunica (federal Yugoslav President) over cooperation with the International War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague (ICTY) demonstrates, not all problems have vanished with the fall of Miloševic´.

The FRY under Miloševic´ Conflicts and rule violation During the 1990s, the FRY under Miloševic´ had become an ‘ultimate pariah regime’ and was a ‘rogue state’ in the European community of states (Pridham 2001: 69–70, 80–2). Miloševic´ and his Socialist Serbian Party (SPS) ruled Yugoslavia in a semi-authoritarian, arbitrary way that lacked all elements of substantive democracy and vigorously violated core norms of legitimate statehood and human rights promoted by European organizations (Uzgel 2001: 153). Although Miloševic´ never resorted to outright dictatorship to keep the image of a popular ‘façade democracy’ intact, he nonetheless monopolized power more strongly under himself than any other ruler in Eastern Europe.2 The autocratic regime retained some formal criteria of procedural democracy, such as a multiparty system and free (but not fair) elections (Pridham 2001: 70, 80). Miloševic´ had acquired a strong power base via his control over the state machinery, the Yugoslav army, ethnic Serb militias, the (secret) police, the security apparatus, the judiciary and the government-owned RTS state media. Since the state continued to be an instrument of the ruling class, the economy also remained under mafia-type state control and structurally blocked reforms (van Meurs 2000: 13; Uzgel 2001: 154). In 1989, he centralized decision-making by curtailing the autonomy status of the Kosovo and Vojvodina provinces in order to ensure easier control by Belgrade (Brusis 2002: 172; Krizan 1992: 131; Wiberg 2000: 209) and secured further domestic autonomy also by tricking or violating the constitution, manipulation of elections, intimidation of opponents, and through the chronic disability of the opposition parties to overcome their disunity and fragmentation (Löffler 1999: 1221; van Meurs and Brusis 2000). In Yugoslavia’s autonomous province ‘Kosovo Metohija’, where 90 per cent of the population has been ethnic Albanian (1.8 million), Miloševic´ relied on increasingly drastic actions to preserve power by starting ethnic war and large-scale human rights abuses against the Albanians in order to ensure the control of the province by the Serbian minority (200,000) (Cohen 1999: 2; Reuter 1999: 8). From 1996 onwards, human rights violations and ethnic

80 International Socialization in Europe

apartheid and repression by the Serbian police forces increased considerably (Riedel and Kalman 1999: 258). When in 1998 the situation escalated with the
violent uprising of the terrorist Kosovo–Albanian liberation movement UCK (‘Ushtria Clirimtare e Kosoves’) against the Serbian authorities, Belgrade responded with a ‘scorched earth’ policy, staged a massive military operation,
and committed series of massacres against UCK fighters as well as the innocent Albanian population; that is, state-organized depopulation and systematic extermination (‘ethnic cleansing’).3 This was intolerable for the Euro-Atlantic community of states, whose identity was constituted of fundamental liberal human rights, regional peace making, protection of minorities, and democracy. For example in April 1999, the President of the European Council, Gerhard Schröder, declared ‘it is unacceptable for the EU to do nothing when human rights are being trampled upon only an hour’s jet flight away’ (cited in Friis and Murphy 2000: 24). But Belgrade’s Foreign Minister responded that ‘Kosovo is an internal affair and nobody else’s business’ (Troebst 1998: 73). Already during the war in Bosnia, the international community became convinced that Balkan war crimes, ethnic atrocities, and crimes against humanity needed to be prosecuted in the name of justice and the rule of law. For obvious reasons, Miloševic´ never showed a strong interest in ‘The Hague’,4 however, the Yugoslav state’s reluctance vis-à-vis a principled cooperation survived the regime change. The new DOS government was internally divided over the degree of necessity and desirability of cooperation with the West, which caused the extraditions to lag considerably behind schedule. In particular, the new Yugoslav President Koštunica did not show much support for international justice. Already at the EU Council at Biarritz (13–14 October 2000), a week after regime change, Koštunica declared that cooperation with the tribunal was not a high priority for him.5 International demands and conditions The West used different approaches to (re)integrate the FRY and make it adapt to the democratic and liberal norms of the community. The RA and the SP were both incentive-based integration strategies promising rewards for compliance with core liberal western norms. The general conditions that had to be fulfilled in order to receive financial aid and to upgrade institutional ties included the respect for democratic principles, human rights, the rule of law, protection of minorities, and regional cooperation – basic principles unanimously shared in and constitutive for the Euro-Atlantic community (high rule legitimacy). The SP of 1999 differed from the RA (since 1996) in the size of incentives: the RA limited institutional inclusion to a maximum of trade and cooperation agreements, whereas the SP even offered EU accession within a framework of gradual institutional inclusion starting with association. From 1998 onwards, the international community also made use of punishment strategies by applying various sanctions against Miloševic´’s regime and, moreover, staged a direct military intervention and partial occupation of parts

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 81 Table 6.2

International conditions of international socialization in Yugoslavia

Cases

Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy

1 Regional Approach 2 Sanctions and NATO intervention 3 Stability Pact 4 ICTY

 (low)
(high) [punishments]
(high)
(high)


(high)
(high)


(high)
(high)


(high)
(high)


(high)
(high)

of the FRY’s territory to safeguard basic rights such as the security of human life, personal survival, individual freedom and dignity, as well as public peace. Although the means, that is the use of force for the sake of humanitarian intervention with the aim of protecting the Kosovo Albanians, were heavily disputed, the legitimacy of the ends (the above-mentioned rules) to be safeguarded was anonymously shared among western governments (high rule legitimacy). In 1996, the EU adopted the ‘Regional Approach’ (van Meurs 2000: 5, 13). The basic idea was that the prospect of closer political and economic relations, increased trade and financial assistance should work as an incentive to further democratization and human rights development (Troebst 1999: 60). Rewards depended on each country’s individual compliance with the general and specific conditions, and was monitored and reported on an individual basis. The RA was based on the logic of gradual integration with feasible and adequate incentives on each of the three gradual stages: the granting of autonomous trade preferences, PHARE and OBNOVA assistance, and the conclusion of a cooperation agreement (Altmann 1998: 510). Although the RA linked compliance with concrete, even country-specific conditions (Alendar 1998: 9; Ifantis 2001: 99) and tangible steps of rewards (high credibility), neither EU association nor accession was envisaged. Thus, the size of incentives was low. In late 1997, the situation in Kosovo started to deteriorate, and on 30 December 1997 the Council of Ministers announced suspension of the trade preference system with Yugoslavia (Troebst 1998: 64). In February/March 1998, when the situation in Kosovo finally began to escalate into civil war, the UN (Resolution 1160) imposed an arms embargo on Kosovo (31 March 1998). Within the following year, the international community successively introduced a foreign investment ban, an export credit moratorium, a ban on Yugoslav air carriers as well as on the visas of FRY officials, the freezing of the financial assets and funds of Miloševic´’s government and that of the Yugoslav state abroad, and, finally, an oil embargo (24 April 1999). In March 1999, NATO ordered a massive, long-lasting bombing campaign (operation ‘Allied Force’) and the deployment of ground troops, the NATO-led 40,000 men strong Kosovo Protection Force (KFOR) into Kosovo. In sum, international sanctions and embargoes hit states with high costs of international isolation; that is, loss of international investment and trade as

82 International Socialization in Europe

well as non-access to international loans and aids. The damage of selective NATO air strikes against Serbia’s mainland – long-term destruction of military infrastructure, transport routes, and industry capital – as well as the threat of partial occupation and the loss of sovereign political control over parts of FRY territory further increased the high level of negative incentives (punishment). At the same time, the credibility of conditionality was high at all levels: the international community started with basic sanctions and gradually increased the quality and quantity of punishment. The threat of military intervention was highly credible, too: the Bosnian experience had previously demonstrated that the Western powers not only possessed the necessary capacity to stage an effective humanitarian intervention in the Balkans, but were indeed determined to defend and enforce the community’s constitutive values if the West’s identity was at stake and its credibility was put into question. For instance, German Chancellor Schröder declared that ‘we have no other choice than stopping the killings in Kosovo’ and noted that ‘this is also about the credibility of the international community’.6 Bill Clinton remarked: ‘If we hesitate, the Serbs are awarded a license to kill’.7 At the Rambouillet conference (February and March 1999), German foreign minister Fischer strongly advised Serbian President Milutinovic´ to accept the international community’s conditions: ‘the alternative is war’.8 The high credibility is also mirrored by the fact that both sides – the Serbs as well as the Allied Forces – pulled together massive troops in the Kosovo border region, both of them awaiting the first strike.9 After Kosovo, the Western community raised the conditional incentives for compliance. The main instrument of this policy was the Stability Pact for southeastern Europe, adopted on 10 June 1999 at the EU Council in Cologne.10 Like the RA, the SP was based on a strategy of reinforcement by material rewards and promoted the same basic principles unanimously shared among Western states (high rule legitimacy). Compliance was supervised by annual progress reports. The SP is a common policy instrument of the Euro-Atlantic community, to which the EU contributed its ‘Stabilization and Association Process’ (SAP) (Querimi 2002: 48, 50). The SAP included the possibility of full integration of the whole Balkan region into the EU’s institutional structures (membership). The general entry criteria and conditions to be fulfilled were largely similar to those of the RA (Wittkowsky 2000: 6). The SAP is the equivalent of the EU’s association policy toward the other CEECs. Its incentives were not only high (membership) but also credible given the fact that the EU had already started accession talks with five CEE associates. Finally, the ICTY is based on two fundamental legal principles; that is, the rule of law as well as the pursuit of justice. As violations of human rights norms and international peace are to be prosecuted (Bjelakovic 2002: 164), the tribunal deals with all Yugoslav suspects (including Croats and Bosnians) deemed responsible for war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity during the wars in Bosnia and Kosovo. The Western community

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 83

regards cooperation with the ICTY as a test case of the FRY’s willingness to multilateral cooperation and compliance with general democratic standards (Bjelakovic 2002: 165). Rule legitimacy is therefore high – the tribunal enjoys unanimous support in the Euro-Atlantic community and was established by a UN Security Council resolution. The US and the EU cooperate closely in monitoring and evaluating compliance. Again, the socialization strategy is reinforcement by material rewards: full cooperation with ‘The Hague’ is a conditio sine qua non of financial assistance and contractual relations; postponing extraditions causes suspension or cancellation of aid and/or institutional status. As EU Commissioner Chris Patten stated, ‘Full co-operation with The Hague Tribunal is one indication of commitment to those values that lie at the heart of the Stabilization and Association process’.11 As in the case of the Stability Pact, the credibility of conditionality and the size of incentives are high. The EU and the US are keyplayers in international politics and have the ability to block international aid and loans of international organizations (for example, World Bank; IMF; EBRD) that are essential for the recovery of the ruined state.12 In addition, both agreed that association with and eventual membership in the EU or NATO would depend on cooperation with the ICTY.

Domestic conditions In Miloševic´’s Yugoslavia, domestic conditions were unlikely to foster compliance: Firstly, the de facto domestic structure and distribution of power worked in favour of Miloševic´’s autocratic regime. Secondly, the domestic resonance of European values as well as the elite’s identification with Europe were low. While, after the collapse of Communism, most CEECs had eagerly turned to the West, the Yugoslav elite was preoccupied with the establishment of Serbian regional hegemony in the Balkans and the transformation of Yugoslavia into a ‘Greater Serbia’ (Reuter 1992: 8–9). Instead of negotiating for institutional membership in Western Europe’s diverse regional organizations, the SPS leadership in Belgrade perceived itself outside the Western community and preferred to continue as a bloc-free country. It remained deeply suspicious of Western integration, which it perceived as a ‘wave of new colonialism’ and as a project of German hegemony: ‘Western Europe, and Germany Table 6.3

Domestic conditions during the Miloševic´ government

Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

1 Regional Approach 2 Sanctions and NATO intervention 3 Stability Pact

 (high)  (very high)

 (low)  (low)

 (low)  (low)

 (very high)

 (low)

 (low)

84 International Socialization in Europe

in particular, … set in motion an expedition designed to bring Eastern Europe under their total economic and political control.’13 If at all, Belgrade saw itself more affiliated with the traditional Orthodox-Slavonian world; for example, Russia. During the Kosovo War, Miloševic´ declared: ‘We do, of course, expect Moscow to help us. Every Serb is looking with hope eastwards, is looking where the Russian sun comes out.’14 Identification with the West and Europe was therefore rather low; pan-Slavism and pan-Serbism were paramount. With regard to resonance, ideological Serb nationalism (srpstvo) became the new and dominant feature of the Yugoslav party system after 1989 (Brusis and Galer 2001: 68; Mikula 2002: 62; Wiberg 2000: 214).15 The ethnicnationalist appeal of ‘Greater Serbia’ replaced the Communist dogma as the dominant state ideology starting with the end of the Cold War and became the most important means of electoral mobilization in Serbia. The ultimate aim of this policy was the creation of a ‘Serbian Empire’ in the Balkans and the (re)unification of all ethnic-Serb diasporas within a single territory, including the incorporation of all external homeland regions outside Serbian mainland that held a significant share of Serbian population; for example, Serb Krajina and Eastern Slavonia (Cohen 1999: 16; Mikula 2002: 62; Uzgel 2001: 161). According to this ideology, the Kosovo – the mythical birth-cradle of the Serbian nation – remains an inseparable part of Serbia, too (Löffler 1999: 1222–3; Mikula 2002: 64).16 It was inconceivable that the province would ever be abandoned to Albanian ‘extremism and terrorism’ or NATO ‘imperialism’.17 The ‘solution of the Serbian question’ was the dominant national discourse during the 1990s, unanimously shared among the SPS elite and supported by the majority of the population. Although the opposition parties advocated a pro-Western course, the Greater Serbian project was not without support among the nationalists in the opposition movement ‘Zajedno’, such as Koštunica and Draškovic´ (Brusis and Galer 2001: 64). Correspondingly, the resonance of minority rights – for example protection of ethnic Albanians, or democratic values – was low. Concerning domestic power costs, Serb nationalism had also been a most useful ideological tool to secure the power of Slobodan Miloševic´’s semiauthoritarian, former Communist government and resulted in various re-elections of his government (Brusis 2002: 172). Since a range of elections ended with a high share in votes for nationalist parties in government and opposition (for example Šešelj, Draškovic´), Serbia’s later PM Djindjic´ concluded: ‘Miloševic´ had been a product of Serbian society’ (cited in Biermann 2002: 23); that is, more of an ‘elected autocrat’ than a ‘dictator’.18 Serbia’s political culture lacked the tradition of formulating political interest from below; the domestic structure of the FRY was clearly ‘state-above society’ and followed a top-down decision-making system and oppression by the ruling clique. It is hardly surprising that domestic power costs of compliance with international demands – for example full democracy, independent media and

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 85

judiciary, fair elections – were very high and threatened to undermine, and even terminate the power positions of Miloševic´’s regime as well as the personal wealth of its ruling elite. Whereas the conditions linked with the RA might only be considered high since they did not directly demand the removal of Miloševic´ from power, compliance with the conditions of the Stability Pact was explicitly linked with Miloševic´’s ousting from the office and with the likely imprisonment of the SPS leadership in Belgrade or in The Hague on war crimes charges. The Kosovo conditions of Rambouillet similarly qualify as very high costs given the threat to the integrity of the Serbian state; that is, the stationing of foreign troops and partial occupation of Serbian territory.19 Process and outcome: the Regional Approach After the conclusion of the Dayton Agreement, relations between the West and Miloševic´ seemed to turn towards rapprochement from the winter of 1995 onwards (cf. Fouskas 2001: 60). The EU member states recognized the FRY on an individual basis on 9 April 1996 and lifted the trade sanctions established during the war in Bosnia by October 1996. Nonetheless, the so-called ‘outer wall of sanctions’ (exclusion from international organizations), which forestalled Yugoslavia from receiving international loans and finances, was maintained because of Miloševic´’s reluctance to implement the Dayton accords, especially his reluctance to re-establish autonomy in Kosovo and his continuous support to the Serbian
entity in Bosnia (Republika Srpska) and their indicted leader Radovan Karadzic´ (Calic 1999: 23). When Richard Holbrooke, chief negotiator of the International Contact Group (ICG),20 threatened to re-impose the economic embargo, Belgrade officially stopped its support to the Bosnian Serbs. However, neither the situation in Kosovo – repression of the ethnicAlbanian people and negation of the Kosovo’s autonomy status21 – nor the general process of democratization in the FRY progressed (Alendar 1998: 7).22 Moreover, on 6 December 1996, the European Council threatened to freeze its recently granted trade preferences system because Miloševic´ did not accept the OSCE-approved victory of the opposition in the local elections in Belgrade and in 13 other municipalities. Miloševic´’s SPS had lost 15 out of 18 bigger Yugoslavian towns and the majority of the constituencies in Belgrade to the opposition, which would then have been able to control local radio and TV stations.23 After 84 days of mass demonstrations by 500,000 people, which lasted until 8 February 1997, Miloševic´ tactically backed down by stating that ‘the national interest to develop good relations with the OSCE and the international community are more important than the relevance of certain seats in local parliaments’.24 The strategy had not been without success because the demonstrations and street marches subsided afterwards. Moreover, the opposition movement ‘Zajedno’ disintegrated in spring 1997 because of internal friction (Cohen 1999: 6–7).25 Although Miloševic´’s SPS lost its absolute majority in the Serbian parliamentary and presidential elections one year later (September 1997), Miloševic´ managed to reconsolidate his power by including the Serbian

86 International Socialization in Europe

ultra-nationalist Šešelj in his government, which led to an increasingly uncompromising policy towards the Kosovo Albanians. In sum, compliance with the conditions of the RA had been low. The Commission judged that due to the ‘situation in Kosovo …, the [deficit in] internal democracy … and the negative position of the FRY authorities on cooperation with the ICTY … the current situation allows no progress in relations with the EC’.26 The EU Council of Ministers announced on 30 December 1997 the suspension of its trade preferences system with FRY from 1 January 1998 onwards (Troebst 1998: 64). In contrast to the FRY, the external incentives of the RA fostered compliance in Bosnia, which was included in the EU’s PHARE assistance programme, and in Croatia, which took part in the Preferential Trade Agreement (Altmann 1998: 515; Calic 1999: 25, 30).27 Process and outcome: Kosovo Instead of increasing compliance and implementing democratic reforms, Miloševic´ staged war on Kosovo by pretending to protect the Serbian minority in the province and purposefully ‘played the ethnic card’ against the Albanian ‘other’ as a means of political mobilization (Cohen 1999: 3, 25) and of diverting attention from the serious domestic economic situation into which he had led the country after the war in Bosnia (Fearon and Laitin 2000: 846, 865; cf. Brooks 2002: 34).28 The ‘external crisis’ allowed him to continue his authoritarian policies within a de jure democratic polity – following the logic that ‘exceptional circumstances also need exceptional measures’ (Krizan 1992: 133). With 13,226 police attacks against Kosovo Albanians in the first nine months of 1996, the human rights situation in Kosovo worsened significantly (Riedel and Kalman 1999: 258). Mass demonstrations of students in Pristina pressed for the recognition of Albanian as the official language in the field of education as had been promised by Miloševic´ (Troebst 1998: 20). In February 1998, the situation in Kosovo finally began to escalate into bloody civil war when the
UC K attacked Serbian police and security forces (Riedel and Kalman 1999: 260), which responded with
a massive attack on Drenica from 5–7 March 1998 to crush the nascent UCK29 and a series of massacres against the civilian Albanian population (Troebst 1999: 785). On 1 April 1998, the ICG imposed a new UN arms embargo on Kosovo which unfortunately helped the better equipped Serbian side: special police forces carried out a huge military operation from May to August 1998, regained control over the region and expelled 250,000 people from their homes. The various other sanctions – a ban on foreign investments and Yugoslav air carriers, an export credit moratorium, the freezing of FRY officials’ visas and financial assets, and finally, the oil embargo against Belgrade – did not appear to affect the Serbian side. Witnessing mass-scale displacement and extermination of the Albanian population, Western politicians therefore started to think about direct intervention to prevent further crimes.30 In July 1998, Belgrade permitted an international observation mission to enter Kosovo but the attacks of the ‘special police’

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 87

against the Albanian population continued with tactical restraint.31 On 23 September 1998, the UN adopted Resolution 1199 calling for an immediate cessation of violence on both sides and for the withdrawal of the Serbian forces (Riedel and Kalman 1999: 261). However, the human rights violations continued unabated. Only when NATO finally ordered selective air strikes against the territory of the FRY on 13 October 1999, Miloševic´ tactically backed down: the brokered armistice permitted the entry of 2000 OSCE delegates and of the 1700 man-strong NATO ‘Extraction force’ into Kosovo. However, the conflicting parties used the intervening period to re-arm and prepare for new strikes (Riedel and Kalman 1999: 261). Both parties also rejected all international suggestions for a new administrative solution. In January 1999, when the first mass graves of Albanian civilians were discovered in Racak and another massacre happened in Rogovo, the ICG pressured both parties to accept the ten points of the ICG’s London resolution, which, among others, provided substantial regional autonomy and the deployment of 30,000 NATO soldiers in Kosovo (Reuter 1999: 9). Meanwhile, NATO allowed its General Secretary Solana to activate air strikes and troop deployment.32 During the Rambouillet conference, which started on 7 February 1999, Miloševic´, however, categorically rejected all suggestions that would have limited Serbian sovereignty over its
Kosovo territory. In contrast, the Kosovo–Albanian leadership with UCK representative Thaci signed the agreement and committed itself to full disarmament. After the OSCE observers had been withdrawn on 19 March, NATO staged its campaign Allied Force from 24 March 1999. The bombing of Serbian military targets in Kosovo and infrastructure in Serbia lasted 78 days33 but made no difference in compliance. On the contrary, the Yugoslav forces intensified ethnic cleansing in return (‘Operation Horseshoe’).34 Until midMay, around 900,000 Albanians in Kosovo were expelled from their homes and over 10,000 people died (Calic 1999: 28; Reuter 1999: 9). On 9 June 1999, after eleven weeks of bombardment and massive destruction of Yugoslav infrastructure and industry, and shortly before the decision to deploy NATO ground troops, the Serbian parliament accepted the G8 peace plan and withdrew its paramilitary forces from Kosovo. On 12 June 1999, the NATO-led international military force KFOR (40,000 men under arms) marched into Kosovo to protect the province. Human rights violations – this time against the nonAlbanian population – continued: after three months of ‘governance’ by the United Nations Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK) about 180,000 out of 200,000 Serbs and Romas were expelled and fled from the ‘Albanian’ region (Löffler 1999: 1228). Although the credibility as well as the size of the punishment was high, Miloševic´ held on to domestic power. Neither the non-military sanctions nor the air strikes changed the assessment of the regime that accepting the conditions of the international community – that is, the self-government of Kosovo, the deployment of international troops, and changes in government – would have ended the elite’s power position in Belgrade. As long as NATO limited its

88 International Socialization in Europe

campaign to air strikes, the regime was not threatened immediately and could even count upon anti-Western reactions among the population. Only when the allies publicly began to think about deploying ground forces, did Miloševic´ back down.35 Only at that point, did internationally imposed power costs trump domestic ones. Process and outcome: the Stability Pact and the EU’s Stabilization and Association Process Despite military defeat, the damage to Serbian infrastructure, and steep economic decline – real GNP fell by 20 per cent – Miloševic´ managed to re-stabilize his position in party and government. Instead of nurturing the Serbian people’s desire to oust Miloševic´, the catastrophic situation enabled him to exploit rhetorically the Serbian culture of victimization and ‘scape-goating’ the international community (Fearon and Laitin 2000: 867; Uzgel 2001: 155). As a consequence, the opposition movement lost momentum for a second time (Brusis and Galer 2001: 53). Despite the much more attractive incentive, the SP failed to foster compliance on the part of the Miloševic´ regime. With unfavourable identification, resonance, and domestic costs, even the concrete and credible perspective of EU membership did not make a difference.36 Because the rewards of the SP depended on Miloševic´’s resignation, it is small wonder that compliance did not occur since it was tantamount to committing political suicide and – given the indictments of the ICTY – endangered the personal wealth and freedom of the SPS elite.37 The sub-case on the SP therefore confirms the results of the RA subcase to a great extent: the attractiveness of external incentives is constrained by domestic power costs, which again demonstrates the general limits of a strictly rewards-based conditionality approach. It was only fifteen months after the Kosovo defeat that Miloševic´ lost power. In September 2000, he lost the presidential elections to his challenger Vojislav Koštunica, although he had called the elections himself after having changed the constitution and was in control of the media (Uzgel 2001: 157–8). While Miloševic´ at first refused to acknowledge the opposition’s victory Table 6.4

Conditions and compliance during the Miloševic´ government Identification Resonance

Cases

Incentives

Credibility Legitimacy

Costs

Regional Approach

 (low) [reward]


(high)


(high)

  (low) (high)

 (low)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)

 (very high)

 (low)

 (low)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)

 (very high)

 (low)

 (low)

Noncompliance

Sanctions
(high) and NATO [punishment] intervention Stability Pact


(high) [reward]

Compliance

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 89

and intended to buy time for a second round of elections, the opposition organized a general strike and mass protests. The opposition managed to get the tacit support of the army, the security forces, and of the media, and thus deprived Miloševic´ of the main pillars of his power (Vetter 2003: 487).38 After protesters had stormed the parliamentary building on 5 October 2000, Miloševic´ conceded his defeat.

Serbia after regime change: the DOS government Domestic conditions After the bulldozer revolution, domestic conditions were more likely to foster compliance. First, the distribution of power was decentralized and democratized, hence, domestic power costs to comply with the conditions of the SP were low. Second, the domestic resonance of basic Western political norms and the elite’s general identification with Europe were high. The democratic DOS government immediately sought rapprochement with the international community and started to reintegrate into Europe’s regional organizations. Various leading representatives of the new government initially expressed high identification with the European peer group. For instance, at the Biarritz EU meeting, Yugoslav President Koštunica declared, ‘[T]he Federal Republic of Yugoslavia is, and always has been, part of Europe, historically, economically, and politically. Now we are back’.39 For the new elite, the domestic power costs of compliance with international demands – for example, full democracy, independent media and judiciary, fair elections – was low as the implementation of these principles was the young democrats’ best guarantee against illiberal revisionism and the best means to foster their own power. Finally, the general resonance of the norms attached to the stabilization process was high in general – independently of the various DOS sub-groups such as Koštunica’s DSS, which followed a more democratic nationalism, or Djindjic´’s DS, which was more inclined towards the European centre-left.40 While the support for general Western norms such as democracy was considerable, one particular issue – cooperation with ‘The Hague’ – gained little support in society41 as well as in the elites in Serbia. In the government, cooperation has been a matter of fierce domestic dispute between the pragmatic proWestern reformer Zoran Djindjic´ (prime minister of Serbia) and the defensive Table 6.5

Domestic conditions during the DOS government

Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

1 Stability Pact 2 Cooperation with ICTY Koštunica Djindjic´


(low)


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(low)


(high)
(high)

 (low)  (reduced)

90 International Socialization in Europe

nationalist and more cautious reformer Vojislav Koštunica (federal Yugoslav President). The controversy was mainly about ‘state sovereignty’, the degree of necessity and desirability of cooperation with and dependence on the West. However, both politicians differed not so much in terms of resonance – that is, (non-)acceptance of a Serbian war guilt and the (non-)legitimacy of a foreign tribunal to sentence Serbian citizens – but in their assessment of domestic power costs that came with cooperation. Koštunica is a traditional orthodox Serbian nationalist and likes to present himself as a protector of Serbian national honour (Fraser 2003: 383; Mikula 2002: 68).42 He denounced the tribunal in similar terms as the instrumental nationalist and ideological ex-Communist Miloševic´:43 as ‘an American court and … a means of pressure that the American government uses for realizing its influence here’ (cited in Bass 2003: 93). Moreover, he also accused the tribunal of being ‘anti-Serbian’, ‘selective’ and ‘legally suspect’.44 He also declared that cooperation resembled ‘the ninth flute-hole’ in his list of political priorities.45 His vocal objections against the tribunal and his nationalist statements were mainly a political strategy aimed at attracting the huge amount of nationalistconservative voters in the Serbian presidential elections – estimated to make up approximately two thirds of the Serbian electorate (Bass 2003: 86; Vetter 2003: 484, 490, 493). In sum, while resonance was low, there also was considerable political benefit in supporting non-compliance. Conversely, domestic power costs of compliance were high. Just as Koštunica, Djindjic´ had criticized Miloševic´ in the past
for losing the war and expressed his support for Bosnian Serb Leader Karadzic´.46 In contrast with Koštunica, however, his nationalist stance was more moderate (reduced resonance). In addition, Djindjic´ was ‘hyper-conscious’ of international opinion47 and sought cooperation in order to receive Western aid (Bass 2003: 94). International aid was essential for the economic and democratic recovery on which Djindjic´ based his chances for re-election as a reformer.48 Consequently, he stated: ‘No price is too high in exchange for the integration into Europe’ and referred to the international pressure rather than to moral or legal convictions:49 ‘The international community is like the weather. You have to accept this free of emotion, otherwise you commit political suicide.’50 Thus, for him the political benefits of compliance were potentially high. Conversely, his domestic political power costs of compliance were low. Process and outcome: Stability Pact and Stabilization and Association process After the peaceful change of regime, the FRY was in a position to participate fully in the SAP immediately. On 9 December 2000, the EU Foreign Ministers lifted all sanctions imposed on Belgrade since 1999.51 In December 2000 and January 2001, the international community supplied euro 500 million winter aid for food, medical and energy assistance (Calic 2001: 12). Moreover, the EU welcomed the FRY as a full participant in the Stabilization and Association process

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 91

in Zagreb on 24 November (Uzgel 2001: 164).52 Furthermore, the country was (re-)admitted to the UN, the OSCE, the IMF, and the World Bank and received special guest status in the CE.53 In the Serbian early elections on 24 December 2000, DOS won 176 out of the 250 seats (64 per cent) and Zoran Djindjic´ became Prime Minister (Fatic 2000: 553). Further institutional incentives, however, depended on the medium- and long-term implementation of democratic standards. Although not free from shortcomings, the FRY’s new elite quickly made progress.54 The EU’s first progress report in 2002 praised ‘a full-fledged, strong commitment … and clear political determination … to reform, and some real progress’ (European Commission 2002a: 3; cf. 5–17). In addition, DOS improved the situation in core problem areas of Miloševic´’s government: it restored some of Vojvodina’s autonomy rights,55 signed the CE’s Framework Convention on the Protection of National Minorities (FCPNM), applied for the European Charter on Regional and Minority Languages (ECRML), and launched a Roma integration programme. It further negotiated bilateral agreements on national minorities with Croatia, Hungary, Macedonia, and Romania, and re-established diplomatic relations with Albania. The EU’s second progress report of 2003 confirmed the considerable progress in compliance in the areas of human and minority rights as well as regional cooperation. However, after the shock of Djindjic´’s murder in March 2003 and the following state of emergency in Serbia, reform slowed down during 2004 (cf. European Commission 2004a). Although in July 2005, the EU was about to reward Serbia and Montenegro with the start of negotiations on SAA for its overall ‘substantial progress’ in reform during the previous few years,56 EU Commissioner Olli Rehn once again emphasized that ‘[a]ccession negotiations proper cannot even be considered until the country has achieved full co-operation with ICTY’.57 Process and outcome: cooperation with the ICTY Already in early February 2001, half a year after regime change, Washington warned Belgrade that it would freeze USD 100 million of non-humanitarian aid and veto aid loans from international monetary institutions if Serbia did not arrest Miloševic´ and increase cooperation with the tribunal.58 The Bush administration set a deadline for compliance for 31 March and complained that ‘there ha[d] been gestures but no convincing steps’.59 In contrast, the EU did not threaten to freeze its aid (Biermann 2002: 21).60 Nonetheless, in February 2001 Commission President Prodi ‘urge[d] the young democracy to co-operate with the tribunal’.61 The requirement, however, was met by differing responses: the ‘modernist’ Djindjic´ declared that he was willing to liberate Yugoslavia from the legacy of the old regime, while the ‘traditionalist’ Koštunica avoided meeting the ICTY’s chief prosecutor Carla Del Ponte.62 In the end, however, the threat to withhold financial support forced the Yugoslav authorities to arrest Miloševic´ and hold him in national custody shortly before the end of the extended deadline.63 Thereafter, the US administration certified that cooperation was

92 International Socialization in Europe

sufficient for the time being and rewarded the arrest with USD 50 million in aid. The EU provided an additional 151 million euros. Yet, the US administration threatened to boycott the upcoming donors’ conference if Belgrade did not also extradite Miloševic´ to the International Court Tribunal. This meant that a total of USD 1.28 billion of international aid was at risk.64 The EU gradually aligned itself with the US and made its aid (220 million euros plus 300 million euros in loan) dependent on the transfer of Miloševic´, too.65 Finally, Miloševic´ was handed over to the tribunal on 28 June 2001, one day before the conference started. The extradition was the result of a domestic emergency decision: the federal DOS coalition ministers and Serbian Prime Minister Djindjic´ adopted a governmental decree – ironically a legal left-over of the Miloševic´ era – that permitted extradition without parliamentary approval, which would have been rather unlikely given the resistance of Koštunica’s DSS.66 Djindjic´ commented that it had been a ‘difficult but morally correct’ decision with the purpose of protecting the national interest of Serbia:67 ‘You cannot do anything with popularity, but you can with credits’.68 Domestic costs for Djindjic´ remained low as he could blame international pressure and did not have to deal with the issue of Serbian war-guilt openly in a Yugoslav courtroom.69 He also declared: ‘The Hague cannot be avoided.’70 President Koštunica, however, protested vehemently, labelled Djindjic´’s action ‘lawless’, and denounced the trial as ‘hypocrisy’ based on ‘strange nonsense’.71 His party (DSS) withdrew from the reform-alliance DOS, and Yugoslav prime minister Zoran Zizic´ (SNP) as well as all ministers of the pro-Yugoslav Montenegrin SPS (Miloševic´’s party) stepped down as well, causing a breakdown of the federal government.72 This, however, did not create power costs for Djindjic´ because his government in Serbia did not depend on a coalition with any of these parties. EU Commissioner Chris Patten ‘warmly congratulate[d] the authorities in Belgrade on their decision to comply with their international obligations …. Tomorrow, the European Commission looks forward to hosting … a vital International Donors’ Conference for the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia … With the extradition of Mr. Miloševic´, let us set about that task with new vigour and determination.’73 The EU rewarded compliance with another 530 million euros of aid and, one month later, started talks on the SAA.74 In addition, the US nearly doubled its aid to Yugoslavia from USD 105 to 182 million.75 In contrast to the extradition of Miloševic´, Djindjic´ hesitated to hand over the Serbian president and former loyal paladin to Miloševic´, Milan Milutinovic´, who was granted diplomatic immunity until his term of office expired on 5 January 2003.76 Again, cost-benefit calculations account for behaviour. First, international pressure had not been applied to the same extent. In contrast with the cases of Miloševic´ or Mladic´, Del Ponte did not request Milutinovic´’s extradition loudly. Second, and much more importantly, a transfer of Milutinovic´ would have included high domestic power costs for Djindjic´: Milutinovic´ was quite a passive, tame, in fact politically invisible president, who did not

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 93 Table 6.6

Conditions and compliance during the DOS government

Cases

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

1. Stability
(high) Pact 2. ICTY
(high) (Djindjic´) 3. ICTY
(high) (Koštunica)

Identification

Resonance

Compliance


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)


(high)

Compliance


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)

 (reduced)

Compliance


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(high)

 (low)

Noncompliance

make very much use of the power of his office and gave Djindjic´ complete leeway in Serbian affairs (Oschlies 2002: 1–2).77 On the contrary, a possible election of Koštunica as Serbian president would have rendered the domestic balance of power in Serbia negative for Djindjic´. In sum, cooperation with the ICTY was driven and limited by the ratio of external benefits and domestic power costs. Despite considerable domestic controversy, external conditionality had an effective impact on the cost-benefit calculations of the pro-Western part of the government and culminated in the extradition of Slobodan Miloševic´.78 However, Serbian state officials only cooperated as a result of effective and coherent international pressure and on a case-by-case basis, indicating that compliance had not been a result of persuasion and internalization.

Results The Yugoslav case study confirms that domestic conditions are decisive for successful compliance with European norms. External incentives and punishments can act as a catalyst and sometimes even ‘tip the balance’ for compliance, but mainly depend on pre-existing positive domestic conditions as fertile ground. Correspondingly, compliance varies with regime type. For the authoritarian Miloševic´ period (1996–2000), the outcome is as overdetermined as in the Belarus case. All rationalist (costs) as well as all constructivist variables point toward the regime’s non-compliance and do not allow us to distinguish between motivations for defection. In addition, external conditions proved to be insufficient: neither the highest punishments (sanctions, military intervention) nor the highest incentives (a credible EU membership perspective) improved compliance. Only after domestic conditions had changed with the democratic opposition coming to power in October 2000, did conditionality become more influential. Although the EU had redirected its efforts to support the Serbian counter-elite ‘Zajedno/DOS’, it is extremely difficult to argue that the election outcome and the ensuing revolution were directly or indirectly caused by EU conditionality. Voting behaviour of the Serbian electorate was more strongly characterized by immediate concerns with personal welfare than with the deterioration of European norms in their country.

94 International Socialization in Europe

However, elections brought a new and more liberal elite to power and produced more favourable domestic conditions. Whereas compliance proved limited and selective according to political cost-benefit considerations, the threat to withhold much needed financial aid was now sufficient to produce cooperation from the Serbian government.

Notes 1 In the following, we shall use the terms Yugoslavia, Serbia and Montenegro, and the abbreviation FRY interchangeably. Since 6 December 2002, the ‘State Union of Serbia and Montenegro’ has replaced the defunct FRY. In this chapter, we will focus entirely on Serbia as the main political entity of the FRY and analyze Montenegro in a separate chapter (Chapter 13). 2 FH/NIT, 2001: 419. 3 See, for example, Spiegel, 26 April 1999. 4 ‘I have always considered The Hague tribunal to be an immoral and illegal institution, invented as a form of retaliation … This tribunal exists first and foremost for the Serbs.’ Interview of Slobodan Miloševic´ with the Italian newspaper La Stampa, 3 February 2001. 5 Das Parlament, 20 October 2000; SZ, 16 October 2000. 6 Translated and cited in Spiegel, 15 March 1999 and 29 March 1999. 7 Translated and cited in Spiegel, 22 March 1999. 8 Translated and cited in Spiegel, 1 March 1999. 9 Spiegel, 22 March 1999. 10 EC Commission: Commission proposes a Stabilization and Association process for countries of south-eastern Europe, IP/99/350, Brussels, 26 May 1999; European Commission 1999: Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe, 10 June 1999, in: http://www.stabilitypact.org/constituent/990610-cologne.asp (20 February 2006). 11 Brussels, 10 July 2001 (Speech/01/338, 10 July 2001, Rapid database). 12 SZ, 29 June 2001. 13 Interview of Slobodan Miloševic´ with La Stampa, 3 February 2001. 14 Interview of Slobodan Miloševic´ with the Slovak newspaper Praca, 20 April 1999. 15 Serbian nationalism has been formulated most explicitly in the notorious 1986 Memorandum of the Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences (SANU). 16 Cf. Spiegel, 29 March 1999. 17 Interview of Slobodan Miloševic´, 16 December 1998, in http://www.slobodanMiloševic´.org/int-WP98.htm (30 March 2004), print page 2–3. 18 Cf. Zeit, 5 July 2001. 19 Spiegel, 29 March 1999; cf. Spiegel, 1 March 1999. 20 The international contact-group was established on 26 April 1994 and consisted of representatives of the USA, the United Kingdom, Russia, and France. In May 1996 it was joined by Germany and Italy (Troebst 1998: 51). 21 Welt, 9 December 1996. 22 FAZ, 16 December 1996. 23 FH/NIT, 2001: 424. 24 Translated and cited in Welt, 5 February 1997. 25 FWA, 1998: 396–7. 26 European Commission 1998: 2085th Council meeting General Affairs, PRES/98/109, Luxembourg, 27 April 1998 (11 October 2002).

Yugoslavia (Serbia) 95 27 European Commission 1998: Status quo with Croatia, FRY and Bosnia-Herzegovina, IP/98/354, Brussels, 15 April 1998 (11 October 2002). 28 RFE/RL, 4 June 1999. 29 Polls show that the Drenica massacre was initially welcomed by the Serbian public and political opposition for the ‘firm and efficient’ display of strength against ‘Albanian separatists and terrorists’ (Serbian President Milutinovic´, cited in Reuter 1999: 9). 30 Handelsblatt, 27 April 1999. In June NATO executed air flight manoeuvres (‘Determined Falcon’) over Albania and Macedonia (Calic 1999: 26). 31 ‘A village a day keeps NATO away’ (Die Zeit, cited in Troebst 1999: 786). 32 FWA, 2000: 416. 33 FWA, 2000: 417. 34 Spiegel, 29 March 1999. Ultra-nationalist vice-premier Šešelj announced that in some scenarios ‘the Albanians could completely vanish’ (Spiegel, 15 March 1999). The Serbs had deployed the necessary troop contingents as early as in January 1999 (Spiegel, 12 March 1999). 35 Spiegel, 29 March; 12 April 1999. 36 Once again, and in sharp contrast to the situation in the FRY, the level of compliance in the other states in the region in the year after the SP had increased significantly (Kempe and van Meurs 2002: 28). 37 RFE/RL, 27 May 1999; SZ, 20 September 2000. 38 SZ, 8 October 2000; 18 December 2003; Spiegel, 24 March 2003: 158. 39 euobserver.com, 16 October 2002. 40 FH/NIT, 2002: 433. 41 Many Serbian people are still suspicious of the tribunal and regard it as a political instrument to stigmatize all Serbs with a collective guilt and responsibility for Balkan war crimes (Biermann 2002: 22; Bjelakovic 2002: 165). A majority is against extradition (FAZ, 22 November 2002; 11 March 2002). 42 Zeit, 16 October 2003. 43 SZ, 4 November 2003. 44 SZ, 27 February 2004; SZ, 13 February 2001. 45 SZ, 27 February 2004; cf. SZ, 16 October 2000. As early as in the summer 2000 election campaign and again in office in January 2001, Koštunica said that he would object to sending Miloševic´ to The Hague even if the US threatened to withhold aid (NYT, 16 January 2001; 17 March 2001; 3 April 2001). 46 BZ, 11 April 2002; Zeit, 5 July 2001. 47 Economist, 16 February 2002. 48 BZ, 2 April 2002. 49 Translated and cited in SZ, 25 January 2002; cf. FAZ, 29 June 2001. 50 Translated and cited in Spiegel, 16 December 2002. 51 Speech/00/404, 26 October 2000 (EU Rapid database); SZ, 10 October 2000. 52 euobserver.com, 15 October 2000. 53 Welt, 20 October 2000; SZ, 20 October 2000; FH/NIT, 2002: 429. 54 FH/NIT, 2004. 55 Note that the second province, Kosovo, remained under UNMIK governance. 56 European Commission, IP/05/421, Brussels, 12 April 2005; European Council, 8036/05 (Presse 87), Brussels, 25 April 2005, 11. 57 European Commission, IP/05/421, Brussels, 12 April 2005. 58 NYT 9 February 2001; 10 March 2001. 59 NYT 29 March 2001.

96 International Socialization in Europe 60 61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

77 78

BZ 3 April 2002; SZ, 27 November 2000; 26 January 2001. NYT, 29 February 2001. SZ, 22 and 26 January 2001. SZ, 29 June 2001. The FRY’s recovery crucially depended on an estimated aid of about 1 billion USD annually. According to the Yugoslav vice-premier, Miroljub Labus, the rate of unemployment in the FRY in the year 2001 was 35 per cent and more than 30 per cent of the population lived in poverty. He stated that it would be impossible to pay state pensions without external aid (SZ, 30 June 2001). NYT, 3 April 2001. SZ, 30 June 2001. NYT, 1 July 2001. NYT, 29 June 2001; cf. Zeit, 5 July 2001. NYT, 1 July 2001. BZ, 11 April 2002. SZ, 28 December 2002. NYT, 29 June 2001; RFE/RL, Balkan Report, 22 February 2002. SZ, 2 July 2001; NYT, 1 July 2001. IP/01/922, 29 June 2001 (EU Rapid database). euobserver.com, 24 July 2001. SZ, 30 June 2001. NYT, 28 December 2002; SZ, 21 January 2003. Milutinovic´ voluntarily surrendered to the ICTY on 20 January 2003 (NZZ Online, NYT, 20 January 2003). He was voted into presidency in December 1997. SZ, 28 December 2002. FH/NIT, 2002: 429; cf. SZ, 29 June 2001; FAZ, 30 June 2001.

7 Turkey

Although Turkey has never been an outright dictatorial regime like Belarus and Yugoslavia, its Kemalist elites partially based their rule on illiberal institutions and practices. In contrast with Lukashenka and Miloševic´, however, all Turkish governments have always identified themselves with ‘Europe’. Domestic conditions of international socialization have thus been more favourable from the start. Because of its genuine political ideology formulated by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, Turkey represents a unique case with regard to political culture and resonance of European norms. In addition, Turkey’s general credentials as a European country are often contested because of its distinct Muslim heritage. The case study covers Turkey’s development since its application for membership in the EU and is subdivided into three phases: from the application in 1987 to 1999, when the EU officially accorded Turkey the status of a candidate for membership; from 1999 to 2002, when the landslide victory of the AK party swept the Kemalist parties from power; and the most recent period from November 2002 onwards.

Conflict and norm violation Although Turkey’s state doctrine of ‘Kemalism’ contains a deep, historical commitment to ‘Westernization’, it is partially based on values alien to those of Western liberal democracy (Gellner 1994: 82; Yavuz 2000: 33) which have often caused Turkey’s policy practices to contradict the EU’s notions of democracy and human rights. Our examples include the discrimination of minorities – in particular the Kurdish minority – and the insufficient democratic-civilian control of the military. The Kurds represent Turkey’s most profound minority problem. They are an ethnic, cultural, and linguistic minority of about 12 to 13 million people, around four to five million of whom live in the traditionally Kurdish provinces of the south-east (Ergil 2000: 125; Karimova and Deverell 2001: 13; Plattner 1999: 64). Turkey’s Kemalist idea of national identity has no room for the 97

98 International Socialization in Europe

recognition of ethnic minorities.1 Ankara relied on a policy of homogenization and assimilation by force in order to eliminate cultures distinct from Turkish culture as well as the territorial claims of ethno-Kurdish nationalism, which had been supported by the terrorist guerilla warfare of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) since 1984. However, the retaliation strategy of the Turkish armed forces led to widespread human rights abuses including torture, extrajudicial executions, and the burning of houses (Kiris¸ çi and Winrow 1997: 130; Plattner 1999: 31; Rumpf 1993: 395). In sum, Turkey’s policy towards 20 per cent of its population in general, and in the south-eastern part of the country in particular, came into sharp conflict with European human rights standards. The Turkish Armed Forces (TAF) generally have an influence in Turkey’s domestic politics that is incompatible with the EU’s principle of full civilian and democratic authority over the military. According to this principle, the military should subordinate itself to the legitimate government of a state and remain its neutral and apolitical servant (cf. Cottey, Edmunds and Foster 1999: 20). By contrast, in Turkey, the army influences domestic politics through the National Security Council (NSC), a ten-member political body headed by the President of the Republic, further composed of the Prime Minister (PM), the Ministers of Defence (DM), Interior and Foreign Affairs, the Chief of Staff, and the four commanders of the army, navy, air force and gendarmerie. Despite the de jure equality in numbers (five politicians, five militaries), the NSC is de facto dominated by the military and not subject to public, democratic accountability (Salt 1999: 72, 78). Another core institution for the exercise of political power ‘behind the scenes’ is the Secretariat-General of the NSC, which prepares the monthly meetings of the NSC and is headed by a four-star general (Candar 1999: 132). In addition, the Chief of Staff’s official position is above the defence minister and the other Cabinet members. In daily practice, he conducts military affairs autonomously, even though he is legally accountable to the prime minister. In addition, Turkey’s extraordinarily large defence budget has usually not been subject to parliamentary control (Cizre-Sakalliog˘lu 1997: 159–60; Rouleau 2000: 108–9). Finally, the military directly intervened in domestic politics more or less regularly over past decades (1960, 1971, 1980 and indirectly in 1997). Some authors have therefore criticized Turkey as a ‘military democracy’ (Salt 1999) and have described the NSC as ‘the institution that really runs the country’ (Candar 1999: 131; cf. Gündüz 2001: 22).

International demands and conditions Rule legitimacy is high for both issues under investigation. With regard to minority rights, the EU has restricted itself to demanding individual non-discrimination, a norm that is shared by the member states and codified in the community’s treaties, rather than the more contested collective minority rights (Hale 2003: 116; Karimova and Deverell 2001: 6). For instance, the EU’s Accession Partnership Document (APD) of 2001 demanded that no individual

Turkey 99

should be discriminated against irrespective of language and race, and required Ankara to ratify the UN Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights as well as to remove any legal provisions forbidding Turkish citizens to use their mother tongue in TV and radio broadcasts (cf. Dunér and Deverell 2001: 20; Kramer 2002b: 26). Furthermore, cultural diversity and cultural rights should be guaranteed by allowing the teaching of (not in) Kurdish (cf. Hale 2003: 117). Moreover, the EU demanded that the remaining states of emergency in the south-east should be lifted. Although the EU had always condemned the secessionist ambitions of the PKK, it also urged Ankara to apply democratic and humanitarian rules to remedy the ills that had given rise to terrorism (Müftüler-Baç 2000: 174; Wood 1999: 103). Although civilian and democratic control of the military is neither included in the official accession criteria of Copenhagen nor formally institutionalized in the acquis, rule legitimacy can still be considered high because the norm is unanimously shared in all member states. Both APDs of 2001 and 2003 demand the Turkish government to ‘[a]dapt the functioning of the National Security Council in order to align civilian control of the military with practice in EU member states’.2 According to this practice, military advice to the government on questions of national security and defence is regarded as legitimate but, in the words of former enlargement commissioner Günter Verheugen, ‘as long as the military controls politics and not the other way round, I cannot imagine Turkey to be an EU member’.3 With regard to conditionality, the EU is the only relevant socialization agency because Turkey has already joined the other European regional organizations: the OECD in 1948, the CE in 1949, NATO in 1952, and the CSCE in 1973. The impact of EU conditionality does not vary across issues, but impacts evenly across the board. The level of EU incentives has always been high because a general membership perspective was already included in the Ankara association agreement of 1964.4 By contrast, the credibility of this membership perspective was low prior to December 1999 when the European Council in Helsinki granted Turkey candidate status. This decision introduced Turkey to the same conditionality regime as the CEECs, Malta, and Cyprus, which had already begun, or were about to begin, accession negotiations. As an indication of Turkey’s concrete membership perspective, the EU devised the pre-Accession strategy, a detailed road map to accession, that included targets to be met by Turkey as well as financial support by the EU.

Table 7.1

1987–99 1999–2003

International conditions of the international socialization of Turkey Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy


(high)
(high)

 (low)
(high)


(high)
(high)

100 International Socialization in Europe

Domestic conditions Turkey’s identification with the EU is an indigenous product of its republican national identity, which is deeply rooted in elite and society (Buhbe 1998: 12; Gröning 2000: 14). Its membership aspirations are perfectly compatible with Turkey’s self-definition as a European state (Kubiçek 1999: 157). The Turkish state elites consider themselves as Western and regard the West as their primary ‘in-group’ in international relations (Kubiçek 1999: 159). EU membership is considered no less than the most important project in the history of the Turkish Republic.5 All relevant political actors, as well as the military and the business circles, unequivocally support this project – with the exception of some radical Islamists (Erbakan) and ultra-nationalists (Bahçeli) that have either suggested turning to the Arabic-Islamic world or to follow Ottoman pan-Turkish ambitions instead (Aydinli and Waxman 2001: 381; Sofos 2001: 255–6). The high commitment of the elites is mirrored in Turkish society: various opinion polls have confirmed the population’s traditional strong support for EU membership: approval rates constantly range within 60 to 80 per cent.6 In sum, elite identification with Europe has been high throughout the whole period of investigation. However, the Turkish example demonstrates that high Western identification does not automatically entail high resonance of liberal norms. Ethnic minority rights The resonance of ethnic minority protection in Turkey is generally low because it is alien to the Kemalist notion of ‘nationalism’, which emphasizes the homogeneity, unity, and indivisibility of the state, its people, and its territory (Kramer 2000: 9; Minority Rights Group 1997: 379). To recognize minorities other than those religious, non-Muslim groups acknowledged in the Lausanne Treaty of 1923 (Greek and Armenian Orthodox as well as Jews), would imply changing the very nature and definition of the Turkish state (Karimova and Deverell 2001: 17). Claims based on ethnic difference are deemed unjustified since there is only one Turkish people and every Turkish citizen enjoys the same rights and obligations – as a ‘first class citizen’ (Kiris¸çi and Winrow 1997: 2; Rumpf 1993: 401). Minority rights are also seen as an unfair privilege and unjustifiable positive discrimination of some individuals against the community as a whole. Accordingly, the Turkish state’s low resonance of minority rights is not a matter of political cost: even the officially recognized, ‘low cost’ Table 7.2

Party resonances in Turkey

Cases

MHP

Minority rights Military control

DSP

ANAP

DYP

HADEP

 (low)  (low)

 (low)

 (reduced)

CHP

AKP
(neutral)



(high)  (reduced)



(high)

Turkey 101

minorities (Jews, Armenian and Christian Orthodox) encounter discrimination irrespective of their number or hypothetical ‘separatist potential’.7 It is hence not surprising that the large majority of the population thinks that separate identities, for example ‘Kurdishness’, clash with ‘Turkishness’ (Kramer 2002b: 34). Regarding resonance, all major parties apart from CHP and HADEP but including AKP tend to have a strong nationalistic outlook (Öni¸s 2000: 478).8 All major governments in Turkey have so far adhered to the Kemalist doctrine of nationalism and denied the existence of a Kurdish minority (Buhbe 1998: 11; Plattner 1999: 68). MHP, the Nationalist Action Party of Devlet Bahçeli, bases its ideology on an ethnic-Turkish discourse. Its conception of nationalism entails full loyalty and service to the Turkish state. Any groups (for example, Kurds) that are perceived to weaken national unity are deemed ‘traitors’ (Çinar and Arikan 2002: 36; Heper 2002: 143). The ideology of the DSP is also steadfastly based on Turkish nationalism (Seufert 2002: 13): Bülent Ecevit denies any existence of an ethnic ‘Kurdish problem’ (Schüler 1996: 255). Both parties’ resonance towards minority rights is unmistakably low. Similarly, DYP – originally in favour of a political solution – turned its ideological stance upside down when Demirel became president and and Çiller became prime minister. As a result, at the end of 1994, the internal advocates of Kurdish minority rights such as Abdülmelik Firat, the grandson of the famous Kurdish rebellion leader in the 1930s, Shaik Said, resigned from the party (Kiris¸çi and Winrow 1997: 143). Although ANAP (Özal and Yilmaz) always advocated the need for a political solution to the Kurdish problem, its ideological position has remained indifferent or inconsistent (Beriker-Atiyas 1997: 444; Kiris¸çi and Winrow 1997: 144). In fact, ANAP is the prototype of reduced resonance, which is oscillating between two contradictory beliefs (Turkish nationalism versus European integration). In addition to its general support for social democracy, CHP has explicitly supported cultural pluralism and ethnic tolerance as a precondition of a fully democratic society and as an extension of individual human rights (Heper 2002: 145; Seufert 2002: 14). Its leader, Erdal Inönü, frequently called for the recognition of Kurdish citizens’ cultural identity (Müftüler-Baç 1998: 250–1). HADEP is the sole legal political representative of Kurdish ethnicity (Çarkog˘lu 2002: 125, 140) and the major political party in Turkey’s Kurdish southeast (Güney 2002: 134). It advocates a peaceful and political solution to the Kurdish problem within the borders of the Turkish nation state, decentralization, and the abolition of all restrictions (Güney 2002: 129–30).9 Both CHP and HADEP represent high resonance. Finally, AKP, the former Islamist party, is not too pronounced on identity politics but advocates a careful and moderate approach that seeks a balance between individual freedom rights and the interest of society as a whole (Goltz and Kramer 2002: 4, 6). Its party programme recommends maintaining Turkish as the official language but supports broadcasts in Kurdish (Seufert 2002: 22). The party’s strong general emphasis on civic rights by definition also includes more rights for the individual Kurds as a by-product of democratic reform. AKP’s resonance is therefore

102 International Socialization in Europe

at least neutral since it displays a basic openness, which takes into account the individual democratic human rights needs of Turkish nationals of Kurdish descent. Civilian-democratic control of the military The Turkish Armed Forces are held in high cultural esteem as the symbolic keeper of national unity and the guarantor of Turkey’s security. Ever since the army successfully defended the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the Anatolian heartland in the war of 1919–23, the military emerged as the wellrespected agent of the new secular and democratic Kemalist Republic (CizreSakalliog˘lu 1997: 154; Heper and Güney 2000: 637). The military’s role as the constitutional protector of the state is widely approved by the population (see, for example, Ates 2002: 54; Narli 2000: 116–17). It is by no means regarded as a threat to democracy but as a legitimate court of last resort in times of political crises or anarchy (cf. Cornell 2002: 31). Given Turkey’s military culture and historical experiences, it is not surprising that the position of the Western-oriented military ‘doesn’t bother’ its Kemalist brothers’ ‘conscience from the perspective of democracy’ (FM Cem).10 Most of the political parties that have been ruling Turkey since 1983 regard the TAF as the ultimate protection against Turkey’s twin internal threats: radical political Islamism and violent Kurdish separatism (cf. Dembinski 2001: 19). This is particularly true for the ultra-nationalist, rightist MHP of Devlet Bahçeli, which – as DSP – rather displays low resonance towards the EU’s demands. Criticism also remains the exception with the moderate parties of the centre-left and centre-right, DYP under Demirel and Çiller or ANAP under Özal and Yilmaz (Cizre 2002). For DYP and ANAP, resonance is more difficult to determine but can be regarded as reduced. After some anti-militarist or pro-civilian rhetoric in the opposition, once in power they both have come to terms with the strong role of the military: see, for instance, Çiller’s support of the military’s firm stance on the Kurdish question in 1992 or Yilmaz’s suggestion that – despite the quest for EU membership – a change of the military’s role would take some time.11 CHP strongly emphasized that they intended to foster the democratization of Turkey’s political life in general (cf. Günes¸-Ayata 2002: 106, 111–12). As a staunch supporter of ‘civilianization’ and ‘democratization’ of Turkey in general, and having experienced the hardships of martial law in the south-east, HADEP and its constituency massively supported the curbing of the military’s

Table 7.3

Domestic conditions in Turkey (1987–99)

Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

Minority rights Military control

 (very high)  (high)


(high)
(high)

 (low)  (low)

Turkey 103

power (Güney 2002: 132). Islamist parties have likewise always rejected the military’s harsh secularist line (Cornell 2002: 30). Thus, the former Islamist AKP is traditionally in favour of curbing the military’s influence. Its party programme states that ‘democracy should be compatible with the contemporary standards in the European Union and the national legal adaptations should be made to comply with the Copenhagen Criteria’ (AKP 2001, section 2.5). Furthermore, it demanded that ‘the NSC … shall be restructured in accordance with the standards of the European Union’ (AKP 2001, section 4.5). In sum, the resonance of the rule of democratic and civilian control of the military is high for CHP, HADEP, and AKP.

Process, outcome, and domestic power costs Phase 1 (1987 to 1999) The period covers the events starting with the submission of Turkey’s application for EC membership (April 1987) to the EU Council at Helsinki (December 1999). During this time, 13 strongly Kemalist governments ruled Turkey. The period was characterized by low compliance. International conditionality lacked credibility and domestic conditions were unfavourable, too. Separatist PKK terrorism made the introduction of Kurdish minority rights and reforming the military unthinkable. The costs of compliance with minority rights were perceived as very high as they were considered to weaken Turkey’s security and its unitary state-structure. The Kemalist elites in general were afraid that the granting of special rights such as regional autonomy, and in particular to the Kurds as the largest ethnic minority group, would lead to territorial secession and to the disintegration of Turkey (Rumford 2001: 98). The guerrilla war of the terrorist Kurdish PKK since 1984 made it even harder for Ankara to consider minority rights, in particular because the PKK openly advocated separatism and declared its aim to establish an independent socialist republic ‘Kurdistan’ (Fuller 1993: 115; Steinbach 2002: 34). Despite the elites’ low resonance and very high costs of minority rights, Ankara took some cosmetic measures at the height of the refugee crisis during the Gulf War in April 1991 in order to improve its international standing: PM Özal allowed the private, ‘non-political’ use of Kurdish in public, newspapers, songs, and in giving first names (Güney 2002: 124; Kiris¸çi and Winrow 1997: 171). At the same time, however, the new Anti-Terrorism Table 7.4

Conditions and compliance in Turkey (1987–99)

Cases

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identity Resonance Compliance

Minority
(high) rights

 (low)


(high)

 (very
(high)  (low) high)

Noncompliance


(high)

 (low)


(high)

 (high)

Noncompliance

Military control


(high)  (low)

104 International Socialization in Europe

Act of 12 April 1991 and its notorious Article 8 ‘corrected’ the liberalizing effects of the prior reforms. The law gave the authorities the power to jail anyone who was suspected of threatening Turkey’s unity (Wood 1999: 101). In fact, simple conversations in Kurdish brought about the danger of prosecution. On 8 December 1994, Ankara’s state security court lifted the immunity of eight DEP parliamentarians – among them Leyla Zana – and sentenced them to three to 15 years imprisonment for separatist propaganda and support to illegal Kurdish insurgent groups (Plattner 1999: 29). In response, the EP froze all contacts with its Turkish counterparts and in February 1995 officially postponed the Customs Union (CU) agreement (Müftüler-Baç 2000: 165). This made Turkey move towards partial reform: it passed the first amendment package to the constitution since 1980 and reformed 16 articles of the constitution as well as the infamous Article 8 of the anti-terror law in order to get the assent of the EP in December 1995 (Akkaya, Özbek and Sen 1998: 44; Aslan 1998: 170). Public prosecutors however, circumvented the new reforms by charging advocates of minority rights under different articles of the penal code (for example, Article 312). In sum, compliance did not progress (non-compliance). After the CU was signed in January 1996, attention moved from the Kurdish problem to the ‘fundamentalist threat’ when Turkey was ruled by the Islamist Refah Party under PM Erbakan (June 1996). The Refahyol (RP/DYP) government lasted for only one year – until the military proved its ability and determination to protect the secular character of the Kemalist Republic. It forced the elected government to resign by staging a public press campaign against the government, by mobilizing its bureaucratic and political ‘allies’, and by increasing warnings of a military takeover (Heper and Güney 2000: 647; Sozen and Shaw 2003: 110). This rather unconventional course of indirect action has been described as a ‘velvet’ coup d’état (Candar 1999: 130; Lombardi 1997: 215). In the infamous NSC meeting of 28 February 1997, the TAF issued a NSC ‘recommendation’ to the government, in which it demanded the immediate implementation of 18 precautionary measures to combat the ‘silent Islamization’ of Turkey (Lombardi 1997: 215). By June 1997, public resistance had massively expanded and members of the junior coalition partner DYP submitted their resignations (Çarkog˘lu 2002: 154, fn. 3). PM Erbakan, however, still resisted fulfilling the NSC’s demands. After the high command threatened with direct military action more overtly (Plattner 1999: 57), the junior coalition partner Tansu Çiller (DYP) suggested a tactical switching of government posts, which induced Erbakan to resign on 18 June 1997. President Demirel (also DYP), however, ended the episode by appointing Mesut Yilmaz (ANAP) as the new PM, who formed a new coalition government with DSP and immediately began to implement the ‘recommended’ measures (Gülalp 1999: 51–2). In sum, civilian-democratic control of the military was weakened rather than strengthened in this period (noncompliance). Moreover, this episode highlights the high domestic power costs faced by any government that challenged any of the pillars of Kemalism – including the prominent political role of the military in Turkish politics.

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In conclusion, the conditions of the 1987–99 period were unlikely to trigger compliance. Apart from identification, all independent variables were negative. While external incentives lacked credibility, low resonance (Kemalism) and high domestic costs (threats to the integrity of the state) prevented compliance on the domestic side. Phase 2 (1999 to 2002) A key year for Turkey was 1999 as there were important changes in domestic and international conditions. First, EU conditionality finally became credible when the EU granted Turkey ‘candidacy status’ at Helsinki in December 1999. As a result, all international conditions of effective international socialization were in place. Second, the capture of PKK commander Öcalan in February 1999 reduced the power costs of compliance with minority rights because Öcalan called upon his followers to refrain from violence, advocated a political solution to the Kurdish problem, and offered to withdraw the PKK from Turkish soil (Gunter 2000: 852–9). Yet, as Table 7.5 shows, domestic costs and resonances were still unlikely to promote reform. The positive external influence of credible incentives and legitimate conditions changes was thwarted by unfavourable domestic conditions. The period covers only one government: PM Bülent Ecevit’s (DSP) coalition government with Devlet Bahçeli (MHP) and Mesut Yilmaz (ANAP), which – at the end of its term – introduced two reform packages in October 2001 and in August 2002. The chapter concentrates on the reforms of October 2001 first and then focuses on the reforms of August 2002, which were implemented under changed domestic conditions. Regarding minority rights, the capture and non-execution of Öcalan ended the armed struggle that had dominated the country for almost 15 years. On 18 March 1999, Öcalan called upon his fighters to refrain from violence and to renounce terrorism, called for reconciliation, and advocated a political, nonviolent solution to the Kurdish problem (Rouleau 2000: 111–12). With the ending of the armed, separatist threat, domestic power costs of compliance started to fall: granting rights to the Kurdish minority could not be dismissed as easily as before as surrender to terrorism. From August 1999 onwards, the PKK indeed started to withdraw its fighters (10,000) from Turkish soil and by the end of 1999, the military under General Kvrkog˘lu confirmed that fighting in the south-eastern region had declined by 90 per cent (Gunter 2000: 864). In spite of Table 7.5 Cases

Conditions and compliance in Turkey (1999–2002) Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identity Resonance

Compliance

Minority
(high) rights


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(high)  (low)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(high)  (low)

Noncompliance

Military control

106 International Socialization in Europe

those positive domestic developments, however, the government made no significant efforts to introduce minority rights: Ankara still regarded minority rights and cultural pluralism as tantamount to separatism (high costs) and ignored all gestures towards a ceasefire and peace made by Öcalan and the PKK (Ergil 2000: 131). MHP was again the staunchest opponent of EU reform demands,12 but PM Ecevit also declared that Kurdish language education would not happen. Thus, the reform package of October 2001 allowed neither TV broadcasts in, nor the teaching of, Kurdish. The state of emergency remained in force in nine of the Kurdish provinces (Rouleau 2000: 112). In sum, Ankara’s compliance with EU demands did not move beyond tactical concessions (non-compliance). In addition, military reform did not progress. This may be of little surprise because MHP holds an extremely conservative position, PM Ecevit (DSP) has ‘cordial relations’ with the military (Heper and Güney 2000: 647), and ANAP is not a strong political force ‘against’ the TAF. Thus, directly after their return from Helsinki in December 1999, PM Ecevit and FM Cem defended the role of the NSC (Park 2000: 43).13 In October 2001, Ankara increased the number of civilian members in the NSC to five by including the Minister of Justice. As the Deputy PM also participates in the NSC meetings, the civilians were thus superior in numbers (Yücel 2002: 11). The new Article 118 of the constitution also redefined the role of the NSC: its views were now submitted as ‘advisory decisions’ while the cabinet should now ‘evaluate’ the decision of the NSC instead of giving priority considerations to them. However, nothing changed in practice (Kramer 2002b: 22; Önis¸ 2003: 15–16). Turkey’s Chief of Staff, General Hüseyin Kvrkog˘lu, even commented ironically: ‘If they [the politicians] want, they can have 100 civilian members. They [the politicians] asked us, and I told my friends, “There will be no objections” … In any case MGK [NSC] decisions aren’t taken through voting.’14 This statement underlines the fact that compliance with the EU’s reform demands remained tactical at best. Turkey’s domestic conditions changed, however, when the government broke up over internal differences on 31 July 2002. On 3 August 2002, a final reform package passed the parliament before early elections were scheduled for November 2002 (Kramer 2002c: 1). The package lifted the restrictions on the use of ‘non-Turkish mother tongues’ (that is to say: Kurdish) in the field of education as well as TV and radio broadcasting. The law permitted broadcasts ‘in different languages and dialects which are traditionally used by Turkish citizens in their daily lives’ (cf. Hale 2003: 122). The parliament also allowed the teaching of ‘languages traditionally used by Turkish citizens in their daily lives’ by private institutions (Kramer 2002a: 4). Both decisions were taken by an ad hoc coalition of the government parties DSP and ANAP with the opposition parties AKP and SP on the basis of a two thirds majority. Of course, MHP, the party that had prevented reforms for over two years, voted against but, since the government coalition had collapsed before, it had lost its bargaining power. However, implementation still faced resistance by the authorities: difficulties in giving children Kurdish names remained and broadcasting rights

Turkey 107

were restricted to two hours per week on TV and five hours per week on radio. Compliance thus improved but was not complete. Moreover, there were no reforms regarding the role of the military. In sum, the granting of a credible membership perspective to Turkey proved to be pivotal for the beginning of a reform discourse in Turkey. There is a clear correlation between EU deadlines and Turkey’s progress in compliance. Both reform packages (October 2001, August 2002) were initiated just in time before the publication of the EU’s annual progress reports. Although the positive international conditions could not outweigh the negative domestic conditions completely, there was movement in the area in which costs had considerably decreased: Kurdish minority rights. However, reforms were not initiated before domestic power costs turned low with the break-up of the government coalition.15 By contrast, the role of the military remained unchallenged. Phase 3 (from November 2002) In the national elections of November 2002, the Turkish electorate voted the three-party government of ANAP, DSP, and MHP out of power. None of the parties had been able to cross the 10 per cent electoral threshold. With two thirds of the seats and 34.3 per cent of the votes, the former Islamist AKP formed the government with CHP as the only opposition party.16 The Turkish parliament consisted therefore of two rather liberal and pro-European parties which widely supported domestic reforms. Resonance thus became high. Moreover, the AKP had gained enough seats to change the constitution on its own. Apart from potential resistance by the army, domestic power costs of compliance therefore turned low. The young government secured a first foreign policy success at the European Council meeting in Copenhagen (12–13 December 2002), where the European leaders promised to review Turkey’s candidacy at the end of 2004 and to open negotiations ‘without delay’ (paragraph 19) if Turkey fulfilled the Copenhagen criteria.17 During the next year (2003), the new government adopted four reform packages to accelerate the pace of reform. Regarding minority rights, the performance was ambivalent. Although AKP is not per se pro-Kurdish, it withdrew a lot of discrimination measures that limited the individual freedoms of Kurdish citizens. For instance, the new government lifted the two remaining states of emergency, granted amnesty to the mass of 5000 Kurdish fighters18 and abolished the notorious Article 8 that Table 7.6

Conditions and compliance in Turkey since 2002

Cases

Incentives

Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identity

Resonance Compliance

Minority
(high) rights


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)


(neutral)

Compliance


(high)


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)



(high)

Compliance

Military control

108 International Socialization in Europe

penalized non-violent ‘separatist propaganda’.19 Although the army voiced its opposition and warned that unity of the Turkish nation was endangered, the reforms were carried.20 However, the Kemalist bureaucracy rendered some of them ineffective in practice. For instance, in July 2003, AKP allowed private TV stations to broadcast their programme in Kurdish without time restrictions. But RTÜK, the Kemalist dominated national broadcasting agency, prevented any broadcasts in minority languages.21 The sixth and seventh adaptation packages permitted giving children Kurdish names22 but a circular of the Ministry of the Interior of September 2003 banned names including the letters Q, W, and X, which are not existent in the Turkish alphabet but commonly used in Kurdish (cf. Ergil 2000: 130). The European Commission was therefore critical that lifting the ban on broadcasting and education ‘ha[d] produced little practical effect’.23 Moreover, the Kemalist bureaucracy outlawed the pro-Kurdish party HADEP and opened a case to ban its successor DEHAP.24 Thus, on the part of the legislature and the government, compliance had improved sufficiently to be coded positive but implementation at the level of the state administration was still deficient.25 Although the new government’s reform packages also threatened to undermine the privileged position of the military, the likelihood of military intervention was low. In contrast to former governments, the AKP government had neither ‘lost control’ of the political situation nor tried to implement anti-Kemalist policies. Unlike the Refah government under Erbakan in 1997, it proved that its commitment to democracy, reform, and EU membership was genuine.26 In addition, the AKP could claim that the reduction of the army’s influence was in full accordance with the overriding national interest of attaining EU membership.27 Furthermore, the CHP, the only remaining parliamentary opposition party, supported the reforms.28 It was rather difficult for the army to intervene if the elected representatives of Turkey, the entire government and opposition, the large majority of the public, and EU demands were broadly in favour of reform. Moreover, public opinion polls of August 2003 showed that support for the AKP had increased from 34 to 42 per cent,29 which – in the event of early elections – would have made Erdog˘an and AKP even stronger. As the Chief of Staff, General Hilmi Özkök, lamented, ‘Most people want EU accession. Why should we object to it?’30 Thus, on 29 July 2003, the government modified the structure, the duties, and the competences of the NSC and its Secretariat-General:31 it was transformed into a purely consultative body and its consultancy was limited. Its budget as well as the number of NSC meetings was reduced.32 Most importantly, the post of the Secretary-General was no longer reserved for people with a military background.33 Since 17 August 2004, the former ambassador of Turkey to Greece, Yig˘it Alpogan, has become the first civilian to hold this position.34 It was further decided that the defence budget would be monitored by a parliamentary ‘Court of Auditors’, although still confidentially (cf. Quaisser and Reppegather 2004: 6).

Turkey 109

After AKP had won the local elections in January 2004 with around 45 per cent of the vote, it executed another reform package in April.35 The package, which had received the support of CHP, extended the ‘Audit Department’s’ authority to inquire about the military’s expenses, abolished the controversial state security courts (DGM) and removed the military members from the media board (RTÜK) and from the supreme education board (YÖK).36 In sum, compliance with regard to military reform had reached a high level. In conclusion, under the AKP government, all theoretically derived conditions of compliance attained positive values. As a consequence, rule adoption vastly improved by comparison with earlier periods of international socialization. On the whole, the European Commission, the European Parliament and the European Council considered Turkey’s progress strong enough in December 2004 to merit the start of accession negotiations in October 2005.37

Results The case study on Turkey shows that two of the social-constructivist variables cannot account for the success in socializing Turkey to the liberal-democratic norms of the Western international community: identification and rule legitimacy have remained constant over time and across issues, and thus do not explain variation in compliance. By contrast, resonance varied and improved over time but the match with compliance is imperfect: neither did low resonance prevent partial progress at the end of the Ecevit government in August 2002 nor did high resonance spur the Erdog˘an government to initiate all reforms immediately after coming to power. A close look at the process reveals that the increased credibility of the EU’s promise of membership after the Helsinki summit was a necessary catalyst for change. However, a credible membership perspective was not sufficient either. A full account of change in Turkey needs to include the differential size of domestic adoption costs: the higher these were, the less conditionality was effective. Until 2002, reforms stalled because of two veto players, the MHP and the TAF. Accordingly, the first significant moves toward compliance occurred when the governmental coalition with MHP broke apart. In addition, the AKP government tackled the reform of the NSC when the bargaining position of the military was weakened and the threat of military intervention had lost its credibility. In sum, the Turkish case strongly supports a rationalist explanation of international socialization.

Notes 1 Only religious (non-Muslim) minorities are protected, which includes Greek and Armenian Orthodox as well as Jews. Since Kurds hold Muslim faith, they have not been recognized as a separate (religious) minority. 2 Official Journal, L 145/44, 12 June 2003.

110 International Socialization in Europe 3 4 5 6

7 8

9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

FAZ, 14 November 2002; cf. Spiegel, 4 November 2003. Ankara Agreement, Article 28. FM Gül (AKP) in TDN, 28 April 2004. MEI, 31 May 2002; Zeit, 27 November 2003. See also Candidate Countries Eurobarometer 2002, First Results, in http://europa.eu.int/comm/public_opinion/ archives/cceb/2002/cceb_2002_highlights_en.pdf (29 November 2002). The number is below 0.5 per cent of the total population. MHP: Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi; DSP: Demokratik Sol Partisi; ANAP: Anavatan ˘ru Yol Partisi; DEHAP: Demokratik Halk Partisi/HADEP: Halkin Partisi; DYP: Dog Demokratik Partisi; CHP: Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi; AKP: Adalet ve Kalkinma Partisi; RP: Refah Partisi/FP: Fazilet Partisi. In contrast, HEP and DEP did not distance themselves openly from the PKK or commit themselves to the territorial integrity of the Republic (Schüler 1996: 250–1). TDN, 14 December 1999. NYT, 14 January 2001. TDN, 20 July 2002. TDN, 14 December 1999. TDN, 26 July 2000. The military strongly supported the reforms in order to fulfil the EU’s conditions, too (cf. Aydinly 2002: 214, Tocci 2001: 17). SZ, 30 July 2002. European Council, Conclusions of the Presidency, Copenhagen, December 2002, Bulletin of the European Communities 12-2002. Zeit, 7 August 2003; FWA, 2004: 838. FWA, 2004: 840. BZ, 24 May 2003. Spiegel, 16 February 2004. TDN, 29 April 2003; Zeit, 7 August 2003. European Commission: Regular Report on Turkey’s Progress Towards Accession, Brussels, 5 November 2003, 44, cf. 37. SZ, NZZ Online, 14 March 2003. TDN, 24 May 2004. Cf. BZ 22 November 2003; Schönbohm 2002: 87–8, 91. TDN, 30 July 2003. TDN, 30 July 2003; cf. Kramer 2000: 31. Turkish Probe, 17 August 2003. Translated and cited in Zeit, 27 November 2003. BZ, 2 August 2003; TDN, 30 July 2003; 9 January 2004; European Commission: Regular Report on Turkey’s Progress Towards Accession, Brussels, 5 November 2003, 19. Welt, 1 August 2003. Zeit, 7 August 2003; euobserver.com, 8 August 2003. TAZ, 8 August 2004. TDN, 30 March 2004. TDN, 11 and 24 May 2004. Spiegel Online, 15 December 2004; 29 June 2005; NZZ Online, 17 December 2004; European Commission 2004: Regular Report on Turkey’s Progress Towards Accession, Brussels, 6 October 2004, SEC(2004) 1201.

8 Slovakia

After the Czech and Slovak Republics separated on 1 January 1993, Slovakia was governed alternately by reform-averse and populist coalitions under the leadership of Vladimír Meciar, on the one hand, and more reform-oriented but most of all ‘anti-Meciar’ coalitions, on the other hand. The analysis will start with the Meciar government formed after the parliamentary elections of September 1994 and end with the re-election of the Dzurinda government in September 2002. After this confirmation of Slovakia’s successful socialization, the country was invited to join NATO and concluded its accession negotiations with the EU. The Slovak case differs from the previously analyzed cases in two ways. First, Slovakia had a credible membership perspective in the EU and NATO during the entire observation period and, second, we can compare two issues of varying legitimacy: democracy/rule of law and minority rights. In addition, because of Slovakia’s comparatively vibrant civil society, the Western orientation of its population, and the support of transnational actors, it is here, rather than anywhere else in Eastern Europe, that the transnational channel might have mattered for the change from non-compliance to compliance. The Slovak case study will be divided into two phases, one covering the Meciar government from 1994 to 1998, the other one covering the Dzurinda government between 1998 and 2002. A final section will be devoted to the question as to whether Slovakia might have been a case of effective transnational socialization.

Conflict and rule violation Even when the Slovak Republic still was a component republic of Czechoslovakia, Vladimír Meciar had been its most prominent politician and his party, the Movement for a Democratic Slovakia (HZDS), the most successful party in the country. Meciar governed the Slovak Republic from 1990 to 1991, then again from 1992 to March 1994 when he had to resign because he had lost his parliamentary majority after defections from the government parties and was replaced by a coalition under Prime Minister Jozef Moravcík. A few months later, however, in the parliamentary elections of September 1994, the 111

112 International Socialization in Europe

HZDS became again the strongest party with 35 per cent of the vote and formed a coalition with two small parties: the Slovak National Party (SNS, 5.4 per cent of the vote) and the Association of the Workers of Slovakia (ZRS, 7.3 per cent of the vote). The conflict with European norms arose primarily from the political practices of the coalition rather than from a formal change of political institutions. The Meciar government immediately embarked
upon an authoritarian path (see, for example, Henderson 2002: 44–9; Meseznikov 1997: 13–19). Above all, it sought to concentrate political power in its hands and to maximize its control over the entire state apparatus. First, it curbed the rights of the opposition in the Slovak parliament. The coalition reserved all committee chairmanships for its members and excluded the opposition altogether from parliamentary oversight of the intelligence service, the privatization process, and the public media. In addition, the HZDS required its members of parliament to sign an undated letter of resignation in case they decided to defect from the party. In November 1996, this letter was used to deprive one deputy, František Gaulieder, of his mandate against his will. Second, the government defamed and tried to force the President of the State, Michal Kovác out of office. Kovác, a former member of the HZDS, had helped to engineer the change in government in March 1994. When Meciar was back in power, he wanted Kovác to resign and denied him the information and financial resources he was entitled to as President of the State. In 1995, the Slovak security service was involved in the abduction of the President’s son in an obvious attempt to increase the pressure on Kovác. In May 1997, the Minister of the Interior high-handedly scrapped the ballot papers for a referendum on the direct election of the President of the State. When Kovác’s term in office ended in March 1998, the government obstructed the election of a successor in parliament. Instead, Meciar himself took over many of the President’s functions and competences, and immediately granted a general amnesty to anyone involved in the kidnapping of Kovác’s son. Third, although the government was not able to establish control over the Constitutional Court, it frequently ignored its rulings. Fourth, it quickly replaced key positions in the state administration and the state-run media with its own partisans. Private media faced financial pressure. In addition, the government stopped the privatization process initiated by the Moravcík government, and pursued a clientelistic privatization policy in favour of its supporters. Fifth, the government amended the electoral law to curb the chances of its competitors. When the opposition parties formed electoral alliances in order to increase their chances to pass the five per cent threshold for parliamentary representation, the coalition introduced a law requiring five per cent of the vote from each single party in the alliance. Finally, the government was hostile to any autonomous rights for the Hungarian minority that makes up around 12 per cent of the population and is concentrated in the south of the country near the Hungarian border. It

Slovakia 113

reorganized the administrative districts of Slovakia to the disadvantage of the Hungarian minority and banned the official use of the Hungarian language by public employees and in public ceremonies. In sum, the political style of the Meciar government between 1994–98 is well characterized as a ‘tyranny of the majority’ (Bútora and Bútorová 1999: 84; Schneider 1997). Slovakia formally continued to be a democratic state; it was rather the Meciar government’s authoritarian practices that de facto undermined the division of power and the rule of law.

International demands and conditions Before the Meciar government came to power in 1994, Slovakia’s integration into the organizations of the European international community had progressed rapidly, and the country was considered to be among the most promising candidates for possible EU and NATO membership. Before its dissolution, Czechoslovakia had joined the CE and signed a Europe Agreement with the EC (both in 1991). In 1993, Slovakia became an independent CE member and EC associate; in February 1994, it joined NATO’s Partnership for Peace. Thus, and in contrast with most other cases examined in this book, the incentives were high and credible from the start. Almost immediately after the 1994 elections, however, the EU began to criticize the political developments in Slovakia (cf. Henderson 2002: 88–93; Krause 2003: 66–70; Malová and Rybar 2003: 104–7). After the session of the Slovak parliament in November 1994, in which the new majority replaced all major positions in parliament and the state media with their own followers, the EU issued a first démarche. Unmistakably pointing at its accession conditionality, the EU expressed ‘concern at some political developments since the election’, declared that a strengthening of relations with Brussels ‘involves not only benefits, but also obligations on Slovakia’s side and will depend on the sort of policies which the new Slovak government pursues’, and hoped that Slovakia would ‘thoroughly evaluate its own interests and will continue pursuing the course of democratic reforms’.1 A few days later, the European Commission also voiced its ‘doubts and fears’ with regard to the domestic behaviour of the new majority.2 In addition, according to its démarche, the EU expected the Slovak government to ease tension with the Hungarian minority and cooperate with the Hungarian government. The statement was related to the Pact on Stability in Europe launched in May 1994 at the initiative of French Prime Minister Edouard Balladur, which called upon all EU (and NATO) membership candidates to settle their border and minority conflicts and provide for minority protection in a series of bilateral negotiations and treaties. The concrete terms of the treaties were left to the negotiating parties but it was understood that without such a settlement, the road to accession would be blocked.3 In October 1995, the growing tension between the government and the President triggered two further, separate démarches by the EU and the United

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States. The EU démarche clearly reminded the Meciar government of ‘the EU’s common democratic practices’ and of the fact that ‘Slovakia is an associated country in a pre-accession period and … the criteria of approval at the Copenhagen Summit are applicable to it’.4 Finally, in November 1995, the European Parliament began to issue a series of critical resolutions on the situation in Slovakia. In 1996, the Slovak government received increasingly concrete signals that its chances of joining the EU or NATO had diminished sharply. The EU ambassador noted in a meeting near Bratislava that for Slovakia there still is ‘much work to be done and in this task there can be no delay’. He added that ‘it is only through its own efforts in the field of democracy, as in the economy, that Slovakia can hope to join the EU’. The US ambassador issued a similar warning with regard to NATO.5 When the US Congress appropriated funds for the preparation of NATO enlargement in 1996, Slovakia was not on the list of beneficiaries. Finally, in 1997, Slovakia was not invited either to open accession negotiations with the EU or to join NATO. In its assessment of the political situation in Slovakia, the Commission criticized the government for not respecting ‘sufficiently … the powers devolved by the constitution to other bodies’ and disregarding ‘the rights of the opposition’; it demanded more independence for the judicial system and a better treatment of the Hungarian minority, in particular a law on the use of minority languages. The Opinion concluded that ‘Slovakia does not fulfil in a satisfying manner the political conditions set out by the European Council in Copenhagen because of the instability of Slovakia’s institutions, their lack of rootedness in political life and the shortcomings in the functioning of its democracy. This situation is so much more regrettable since Slovakia could satisfy the economic criteria in the medium term and is firmly committed to take on the acquis’ (European Commission 1997d). Even after it had been decided that Slovakia would not be among the firstround candidates, the Western organizations continued to assure Slovakia that it was eligible and welcome in principle. Representatives of EU organizations and member states offered Slovakia a last chance to demonstrate its commitment to European integration and liberal democracy by quickly introducing a few changes in parliament (Krause 2003: 68). However, the community organizations were increasingly calling for a change in government as a prerequisite of membership. In October 1997, US Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott told a delegation of Slovak opposition leaders that ‘NATO’s door is still open to Slovakia with the right democratic changes’.6 And although MEP and President of the European Union of Christian Democrats van Velzen reiterated that ‘it is impossible to see negotiations beginning … under [Slovakia’s] current government’, he welcomed the formation of the opposition coalition (SDK) and the ‘prospect of a change of government after the next elections’.7 These calls for a change through elections were paralleled by transnational advice and financial support to NGOs and opposition parties by Western foundations, parties

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and European party federations (see, for example, Bútora and Bútorová 1999: 89–90; Pridham 1999: 1237). In addition to the activities of the EU and the US, the CE started a dialogue with the Slovak authorities under the Parliamentary Assembly’s Monitoring Procedure in 1996. The principal issues were the rights of the parliamentary opposition, the independence of the judiciary, local and regional selfgovernment, freedom of the press, the protection of the minorities, and the problems of the Roma population.8 In line with their general reward-based socialization strategies, neither the EU nor NATO downgraded their existing institutional ties with Slovakia, the Europe Agreement and the Partnership for Peace, to inflict extra punishment. The Europe Agreement entered into force as planned in February 1995. In its November 1995 resolution, the European Parliament warned Slovakia that the Europe Agreement ‘might have to be suspended’ (cited in Malová and
Rybar 2003: 105), but member state governments did not pursue this threat. In addition, the EU treated Slovakia’s membership application of June 1995 as all the other associated CEECs. Rather, both the EU and NATO made the next step in the chain of rewards – the opening of accession negotiations – conditional on compliance with their demands. Exclusion or the suspension of membership rights was not considered in the CE either. In sum, then, the international bargaining conditions were highly favourable. Firstly, since the European organizations did not confine themselves to social incentives and disincentives but immediately linked compliance with full membership in the EU and NATO, the size of the incentives was high. What is more, accession conditionality was highly credible. The promise of membership was credible because Slovakia was part of the Central European group of countries (the Visegrád Four consisting of the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, and Slovakia), which were the front runners of integration into the Western organizations and were generally considered to constitute the indispensable core group for the first rounds of EU and NATO Eastern enlargement. It was even more credible in 2002, when the EU was about to conclude accession negotiations with Slovakia in December and NATO decided to invite a second group of new members at its Prague Summit in November. Some observers suggest that the promise of membership might have been too strong and that Meciar might have misinterpreted the determination of the EU and NATO to exclude Slovakia from the accession negotiations.9 First, however, the messages by both organizations were clear, consistent, and repeated over a long period of time. They became increasingly specific – both with regard to the required changes and the threat of exclusion. Second, both organizations acted upon their threats in summer 1997. In this light, Meciar’s declarations that the EU and NATO could not do without Slovakia should be taken as efforts to assure the public in view of the EU and US démarches rather than as expressions of sincere belief. For instance, after the October 1995 démarche, he stated, ‘Slovakia is of exceptional strategic importance, and is

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exceptionally well positioned. … [D]on’t worry about it, they all need us and want us’.10 In a rationalist international perspective, we would therefore expect democratic conditionality to have been effective. In contrast, rule legitimacy was more mixed. While most of the demands referred to the consensual and time-honoured norms of democratic government and the rule of law, Western organizations also expected an improvement in minority protection beyond non-discrimination. The demands in this area were not very specific and did not include explicit support to any territorial autonomy of the Hungarian minority, but since a law providing for and regulating the public use of minority languages was regularly mentioned, they included contested minority rights not generally accepted in the member states. In a social learning perspective, then, we would expect variation in impact depending on the rule in question. Table 8.1 summarizes the international conditions, which apply to both the Meciar and the Dzurinda coalitions.


The Meciar government (1994–98) Domestic conditions In contrast with international conditions, the domestic conditions of compliance with the international community’s demands were rather bleak under the Meciar government. While the domestic power costs of compliance were high, identification and resonance were low (see Table 8.2). To assess the salience of Western demands and conditions, we need to differentiate between the three coalition parties to some extent. Generally, the ideological positions of the smaller coalition partners are easier to pin down than those of the HZDS. The HZDS started out as a broad, ideologically diverse movement under the charismatic leadership of Vladimír Meciar. Although successive secessions and splits, on the whole, made the party more authoritarian and nationalist in the course of time, it remained without a specific ideological foundation or orientation. The HZDS programme is best described as populist; the party ‘predominantly represented the older, less educated, rural, Table 8.1

International conditions of the international socialization of Slovakia

Cases

Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy

Democracy and rule of law Minority protection


(high)
(high)


(high)
(high)


(high) (low)

Table 8.2


Domestic conditions during the Mec iar government (1994–98)

Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

Democracy and rule of law Minority protection

(high) (high)

(low) (low)

(low) (reduced)

Slovakia 117

and less reform-minded part of the population’ (Bútora and Bútorová 1999: 81). The party was neither anti-Western nor anti-liberal nor anti-Hungarian in principle. Nor, however, was it intrinsically committed to Western integration, liberal values and norms, or minority protection. All in all, its identification with the Western international community was not strong. On the one hand, the HZDS and Meciar had advocated and pursued a course of Western integration ever since Slovak independence. On the insistence of the HZDS, the government programme of January 1995 strongly emphasized EU and NATO membership as foreign policy priorities and declared Slovakia’s commitment to comply with European norms. On the other hand, however, the HZDS was poorly integrated into the international community. It did not belong to any of the European party families and its parochial leadership did not develop close ties with Western European elites (see Pridham 2002a: 210). The mainly instrumental attitude towards the West is well epitomized in Meciar’s statement: ‘If they don’t want us in the West, we’ll turn East.’ (quoted according to Wlachovský 1997: 49; cf. Samson 1997: 14). In addition, he frequently characterized Slovakia as a bridge between East and West (see Goldman 1999: 153). The same instrumental attitude characterizes the resonance of Western rules. ‘More than espousing a set of abstract political beliefs, HZDS promotes the
concentration of political and economic power for its own benefit’ (Meseznikov 1998: 19). Meciar initially turned to nationalist arguments to strengthen Slovak autonomy (and, as a corollary, his own power) against the Czech lands and, after independence, to mobilize popular support for his government and to support the coalition with the SNS (Schneider 1997: 20). In contrast, the SNS and the ZRS embodied anti-Western traditions on the extreme right and the extreme left of the political spectrum and held principled anti-liberal beliefs. The SNS identified itself positively with the fascist Slovak state during World War II and made opposition against minority rights for the Hungarian population its central political issue. Although the ZRS did not share the extreme nationalism of the SNS, both parties converged on the issue of opposition against Western integration. Instead of NATO membership, both
advocated Slovak neutrality and close ties with Russia (Meseznikov 1997: 22–3; Wlachovský 1997: 46). For both the smaller coalition parties, identification with the West and the resonance of Western norms were clearly low. To arrive at a summary assessment, we categorize identification with the West as low: although it was neutral with regard to the HZDS, the staunch antiWesternism of the SNS and the ZRS tilt the balance towards negative identification. Resonance with Western norms of liberal democracy was low for all three parties. Indeed, in her map of the ideological positions of Slovak political parties, Erika Harris (2002: 100) attributes an authoritarian ideology (in contrast with liberalism) to all of them. It is this feature that united the coalition parties despite different views on social and economic issues and that most clearly distinguished them from the other Slovak parties. Finally, resonance with Western

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demands for minority protection is best classified as ‘reduced’ because it differed strongly among the coalition partners. The SNS was an anti-Hungarian, extremely nationalist party; the HZDS espoused a more moderate, mainly instrumental nationalism, whereas Slovak nationalism was alien to the ZRS. However, neither the HZDS nor the ZRS distinguished themselves positively as advocates of minority protection for the Hungarian population. Given the weak and diffuse ideological orientation of the HZDS, the decisive domestic factor for the behaviour of the biggest governing party appears to have been domestic power costs, not salience. First, the main motivation for the authoritarian tendencies of the government was the concentration and preservation of power in a potentially volatile political environment. In particular, firm control over the parliament, including the members of the coalition parties, and the attacks on the President of the State, served to prevent a repetition of the events of March 1994 when a series of defections from the HZDS, aided by President Kovác, had brought down the previous Meciar government (Henderson 2002: 43–5; Schneider 1997: 11). Second, the HZDS needed to accommodate its more anti-liberal coalition partners in order to keep its majority in parliament and remain in power. The other parties in parliament refused to enter into a coalition with the HZDS, and if they had been willing to support Meciar, that would have required him to give up some of his authoritarian control over Slovak politics. Of course, the SNS and the ZRS also needed the HZDS to remain in power, which limited their bargaining power, too, but it is safe to conclude that on many critical issues relevant for international conditionality, the Meciar government was more defiant than it would have been if the HZDS had governed alone. In sum, the domestic power costs of compliance with Western norms were high. It was not a question of state integrity or security, nor of changing an entire system of rule, but full compliance would have undermined the power basis of the Meciar government and very likely led to its collapse. Process and outcome Throughout the period in office of the Meciar government, compliance with Western norms and demands was low or, at best, characterized by tactical concessions. The verbal reactions of the Meciar government were mainly defensive and mainly consisted in outright denial or accusations of inconsistency. The Slovak government reproached the West for lacking information or misinterpreting the situation in the country, for interfering with its domestic affairs and applying double standards, which treated Slovakia unfairly in comparison with other candidate countries. Government representatives described the state of democracy in Slovakia as at least as good as in the other central European countries or emphasized the positive economic situation. Or they simply blamed the opposition or international media for the ‘distorted image’ of Slovakia abroad.11 On the other hand, the government persistently assured the EU and NATO that Slovakia was committed to accession and vowed to fulfil the conditions

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eventually. For instance, when the newly elected Prime Minister Meciar met the President of the European Parliament Klaus Haensch in January 1995, he assured him ‘that Slovakia would respect all the obligations incumbent upon countries which are applicants for admission to the EU’, in particular with regard to the Hungarian minority and the privatization of the economy.12 This promise was constantly reiterated and culminated in a series of lastminute rhetorical moves to secure participation in EU accession negotiations in 1997.13 In practice, however, the credible accession conditionality of the EU and NATO did nothing to change the authoritarian practices of the Meciar government. It did not give up its encroachment on the rights of the opposition in parliament or reduce its attacks on the President of the State, which had been the immediate causes for the démarches in 1994 and 1995. Neither did it increase its respect for the independence of the judiciary, the media, and local and regional self-government, as demanded by the Council of Europe. If at all, the norm violations got worse over time. Even the single most visible success of Western conditionality policy, the signing of the Basic Treaty between Slovakia and Hungary, committing Slovakia to the Council of Europe guidelines for the treatment of national minorities and to the granting of autonomy rights to its Hungarian population, was compromised and rendered ineffective by domestic measures. Slovakia signed the Framework Convention on National Minorities of the Council of Europe in February 1995 and the Basic Treaty at the Stability Pact conference in March of the same year, including the adoption of Recommendation 1201, the most far-reaching set of European minority rights. The step was hailed as a major achievement of the Stability Pact process and as an indication of Slovakia’s willingness to comply with the political conditionality of the EU.14 At home, however, the treaty was met with fierce resistance by the SNS, which made ratification conditional on concessions by the HZDS. Slovakia finally ratified the treaty in March 1996 – Hungary had done so already in June 1995 – but only after the government had planned several laws to dilute the provisions of the treaty (see, for example, Leff 1997: 250; Schneider 1997: 20–4). First, the November 1995 Language Law prescribed the exclusive use of the Slovak language for all public and official acts. Second, a territorial reform redefined administrative districts so that the share of Hungarians living in them would remain low enough to deny them self-government without violating CE norms. Third, the government passed a ‘Law on the Protection of the Republic’, an amendment to the penal code, that was primarily but not exclusively directed against the Hungarian minority by threatening anyone who was allegedly undermining the state with criticism. Fourth, the Slovak government unilaterally added an appendix to the treaty that rejected the granting of collective minority rights and, finally, it flatly declined to pass a new language law according to the recommendations of the OSCE’s HCNM.15

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Results Table 8.3 summarizes the conditions and outcomes of international democratic conditionality during the Meciar government (1994–98). We draw three major findings from this part of the Slovak case study. First, the variation in legitimacy did not matter for compliance. If at all, the Meciar government made stronger (tactical) concessions on minority policy than on democracy and the rule of law in general. Second, compliance was low despite sizeable and credible international rewards. Thus, a good starting position for EU and NATO accession alone is not sufficient for an effective impact of political conditionality. Third, the outcome is convincingly explained by domestic factors. At the same time, it is over-determined because both high domestic power costs and low identification and resonance might have been the cause of non-compliance. A closer look at the domestic conditions and the process reveals, however, that, although low identification and resonance was decisive for the smaller coalition partners, domestic power concerns were most relevant for the HZDS and Prime Minister Meciar. First, the HZDS and Meciar did not reject Western demands for ideological reasons but had a pragmatic and instrumental attitude towards Western integration and norms. Second, Meciar was prepared to comply with Western norms if compliance furthered Slovakia’s chances of joining the EU and NATO without endangering his domestic power. This disposition explains why he initially accommodated Western demands for minority protection (contained in the Basic Treaty with Hungary) but agreed to dilute the provisions of the treaty to satisfy his indispensable coalition partner, the SNS. In contrast, Meciar did not even tactically accommodate Western criticism when it referred to his general authoritarian practices and concentration of domestic power. The primacy of domestic power preservation led to a dualistic policy towards the community organizations (cf. Goldman 1999: 169; Henderson 2002: 88, 92). Externally, Meciar and his foreign ministers ceremonially upheld Slovakia’s bid to join the Western organizations and rhetorically vowed to fulfil the prerequisites of membership eventually. Internally, however, these promises were never implemented because Meciar wanted to keep both his coalition partners and his authoritarian control of Slovak politics. Exposing the
inconsistency of this dualistic policy, Slovak Foreign Minister Pavol Hamzík resigned in May Table 8.3

Cases


Conditions and compliance during the Mec iar government

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identification Resonance Compliance

Democracy
(high) and rule of law


(high)


(high)

(high) (low)

(low)


(high)


(high)

(low)

(high) (low)

(reduced) Noncompliance

Minority protection

Noncompliance

Slovakia 121

1997, arguing that ‘Slovakia’s vital international interests’ were being subordinated to the domestic power struggle.16

The Dzurinda government (1998–2002) Domestic conditions In the 1998 parliamentary elections, the coalition parties of the Meciar government were defeated. In their place, a broad coalition including the SDK (Slovak Democratic Coalition), SDL (Party of the Democratic Left), SMK (Party of the Hungarian Coalition), and SOP (Party of Civic Understanding), representing more than 58 per cent of the vote and 93 of the 150 seats in parliament, formed a new government under Prime Minister Mikuláš Dzurinda (SDK).17 Although the international conditions of conditionality remained the same as during the Meciar government, the domestic conditions changed almost entirely (see Table 8.4). Even though the new coalition in government was programmatically heterogeneous – it included, among others, reformed Communists, Christian Democrats and parties of the Hungarian minority – all of its members were ‘committed to democratic principles and the rule of law, and all support[ed] Slovakia’s integration into the European Union and NATO’ (Bútora and Bútorova 1999: 82; cf. Kirschbaum 1999: 600). Thus, identification and resonance generally changed from low to high.18 Only the resonance of the minority protection norm diverged among the coalition partners and is therefore better classified as ‘reduced’. It was obviously high for the SMK but minority rights for the Hungarian population did not have general intrinsic support in the other, ‘Slovak’, coalition parties. For instance, during the Meciar government, the opposition was often split on laws concerning the Hungarian minority and ‘Slovak’ opposition parties – above all the SDL’ and the DÚ (which later became a part of the SDK) – even voted together with the government (Dostál 1997: 68; Sándor 1997: 60). Moreover, the domestic political costs of compliance with EU demands were low. First, the opposition parties had been elected on a platform of advancing democratic reform and Western integration: ‘the reforms required by the EU and NATO largely corresponded with the government’s own assessment of Slovakia’s urgent political and economic priorities.’ (Henderson 2002: 49). Second, these issues were the main glue and focus of an otherwise heterogeneous coalition – in addition to preventing Meciar from returning to power. Table 8.4

Domestic conditions during the Dzurinda government (1998–2002)

Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

Democracy and rule of law Minority protection


(low)
(low)


(high)
(high)



(high) (reduced)

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Third, as the Dzurinda government inevitably lost some of its support due to economic problems, coalition crises, and other disappointments, the prospect of Western integration proved to be its main political asset in the domestic scene. Thus, compliance with the demands of Western organizations was of immediate domestic political interest of the coalition parties. For those reasons, and despite severe coalitional conflict, repeated threats by coalition parties to leave the government, as well as a break-up and restructuring of some of them, the Dzurinda government managed to survive its entire four-year term. Process and outcome With the change in government, compliance changed rapidly from low to high. Even the formation of the new government was influenced by the urge to accommodate the European international community. Most visibly, the SMK was asked to join the government in order to signal a new attitude to minority rights – even though the inclusion of the Hungarian coalition was not needed to achieve majority support in parliament, and increased heterogeneity and tensions within the coalition. According to Eduard Kukan, the new Foreign Minister, ‘The strong foreign policy aspect of the new government was kept in mind the whole time when we were speaking about the formation of the government. And it was also deep in our minds that the inclusion of the SMK in the government would improve the standing of Slovakia, the image of Slovakia vis-à-vis our EU ambitions’ (Pridham 2002b: 94). Moreover, the SDL’ ‘was subjected to some non-official pressure to back down over its objection to SMK inclusion, especially from the Socialist International’ (Pridham 2002b: 964). The new coalition committed itself immediately to democracy, the rule of law, human rights, and minority protection and declared that it would introduce liberal reforms and comply with EU and NATO demands. Eduard Kukan, the new Foreign Minister, promised ‘to prove that now there is a new situation in Slovakia … a government determined to strive for democratic development’. A few days after having been elected Prime Minister, Dzurinda went to Brussels. Afterwards, he vowed to move quickly to meet two concerns expressed during the talks, ‘namely that a law on national minority languages be drawn up and
that an investigation into the 1995 abduction of former President Kovac’s son be launched’.19 Government representatives generally declared they would ‘do everything’ for the EU to decide in favour of inviting Slovakia to membership negotiations in 1999.20 In addition, the new coalition set about abolishing the constitutional conflicts and the authoritarian tendencies of the Meciar years. Those were generally uncontroversial. The coalition re-established the parliamentary rights of the opposition and strengthened the independence of the judiciary. It changed the constitution to allow the election of the President of the Republic by direct suffrage, and the elections postponed by Meciar were held in May 1999. Finally,

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in December 1999, it officially expressed its regret that František Gaulieder was stripped of his mandate by the previous parliament. This purely symbolic act shortly ahead of the EU’s Helsinki summit demonstrates the link with the imminent decision on the opening of accession negotiations with Slovakia particularly well. In contrast, the issue of minority rights and protection of the Hungarian minority proved divisive. Of course, the new government quickly achieved agreement with Hungary on the implementation of the Basic Treaty: the Slovak-Hungarian Joint Committee started its work in January 1999 (Gál 1999). The new law on minority languages, however, was contested – mainly between the SMK and the SDL’ – and delayed for several months. First, the SDL’ threatened to leave the coalition over the language law, then the SMK was dissatisfied because the law only provided for the use of minority languages in official contacts and only in localities where minorities make up at least 20 per cent of the population. The Hungarian Coalition Party wanted to extend those rules to more general public use and to a threshold of 10 per cent.21 The EU had made it clear, however, that the passing of the law was the last political hurdle for the opening of accession negotiations, and Prime Minister Dzurinda declared that the law had to be approved ‘by end of June to allow the EU to move Slovakia up to the “fast-track” group in accession talks’.22 In addition, the OSCE, the Council of Europe and the European Commission accepted the draft law of the coalition majority without the more far-reaching SMK demands.23 Thus, the government approved the draft on 23 June and the Slovak Parliament passed it on 10 July 1999. The SMK deputies voted against it, but their votes were not necessary for a majority, and by their presence in parliament, they made sure that the necessary quorum for adopting laws was met. Three days later, the European Commission said that it expected Slovakia to join the ‘fast-track group’ at the end of 1999. On the same day, NATO Secretary-General Solana told President Schuster that NATO’s Membership Action Plan should be applied to Slovakia ‘to allow its rapid integration into the alliance’.24 A statement of approval by the OSCE’s HCNM van der Stoel followed a few days later.25 The change in compliance was reflected in the decisions of the Western organizations. In September 1999, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe ended the monitoring procedure opened in 1995, welcoming ‘the progress which has … been made by the Slovak Republic … to consolidate democracy and the rule of law, to promote respect for human rights and to bring both law and policy into line with the principles of the Council of Europe’.26 In October 1999, the European Commission’s Regular Report concluded, ‘Thanks to the changes introduced since September 1998 Slovakia now fulfils the Copenhagen political criteria’.27 In December 1999, the European Council at Helsinki decided to open accession negotiations with Slovakia.28 Even after the EU decision to open accession negotiations, political conditionality continued to influence the domestic politics of Slovakia. On the one hand, the governing coalition remained fragile and political reforms were not

124 International Socialization in Europe

completed. On the other hand, Vladimír Meciar was not definitely defeated and populism and authoritarianism remained strong in the country. The impact of membership conditionality on democratic reform and coalition politics is best illustrated by the revision of the Slovak constitution in February 2001 and the subsequent reforms in public administration (see
Bútora, Bútorová and Meseznikov 2003: 64–5). The revision introduced amendments required by EU and NATO membership: they permitted the transfer of sovereign rights, accession to organizations of mutual collective security, and the precedence of EU law over Slovak law. Furthermore, the amendments provided for public administration reform, in particular the strengthening of regional self-government. The establishment of an ombudsman for human rights and enhanced competencies of the constitutional court further served to consolidate liberal democracy in Slovakia. At the same time, the revision of the constitution and the subsequent administrative reforms created renewed conflict in the coalition on minority issues. First, the SMK was angered by the decision of its coalition partners not to change the preamble of the constitution referring to the ‘Slovak nation’ rather than, more inclusively, to the ‘citizens of Slovakia’.29 The second and more serious conflict concerned regionalization and the SMK’s demand for a separate region (Komarovo) mainly populated by ethnic Hungarians in the south of Slovakia. However, two government parties (SDL’ and SOP) sided with the opposition to prevent an increase in the number of administrative districts from eight to 12. In response, the SMK threatened to resign from government in July 2001. Prime Minister Dzurinda immediately referred to the international repercussions of such a step to put pressure on the SMK. He declared that the continuing participation of the SMK in the government would enhance ‘the chance of getting Slovakia into NATO and the EU’, whereas its withdrawal ‘would strongly harm Slovakia’s current positive international assessment in a situation where the country has reached the threshold of NATO and the EU’.30 Early on the EU had declared that it would neither support nor criticize the SMK demand for the division of administrative regions.31 But ahead of the extraordinary congress of the SMK that was to decide about the departure from government on 25 August 2002, EU Commissioner Verheugen and the US and British ambassadors to Slovakia expressed their concerns and issued warnings that the collapse of the government could severely damage Slovakia’s chances of being admitted to both organizations.32 As a result, the SMK delayed its withdrawal by one month and pulled back altogether in October after the Slovak parliament had passed several additional laws enhancing the decentralization of the administration. Finally, the Western organizations used accession conditionality to prevent Meciar from returning to power after the elections of 2002. This scenario became increasingly likely in the second half of 2001, when the HZDS began to lead the polls with a stable share of around one third of the vote. In addition,

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the HZDS won six out of seven governorships in the regional elections of December 2001. As early as June 2001, EU Commissioner Verheugen warned ‘that old forces are still around’ and that Slovakia’s membership bid would suffer if they returned.33 He repeated the requirements for political stability and international trust in Bratislava in May 2002.34 In December of the same year, NATO Secretary-General Robertson pointed out that ‘the voters voting in the parliamentary elections must do so with their eyes open and take into account that just a few weeks later NATO will be taking another decision in Prague’ – referring, of course, to the selection of new members in a second round of Eastern enlargement.35 These warnings were echoed by US ambassador to Slovakia Weiser, who explicitly stated that the ‘forming of the future government will influence whether Slovakia gets an invitation or not’,36 and, later in the year, by US ambassador to NATO Burns.37 In 2002, the credibility of the threat should still have been higher, since the EU and NATO had already excluded a government led by Meciar before. That the threat was taken seriously is shown by the fact that there was explicit discussion, even within the HZDS, about the necessity of forming a new government without Meciar. In the end, the Dzurinda coalition government not only served its full fouryear term but also survived the parliamentary elections of September 2002. Although the HZDS received a plurality of votes, Prime Minister Dzurinda was able to form another four-party coalition government including his own Slovak Democratic and Christian Union (SDKÚ), the SMK, the Christian Democratic Movement (KDH, formerly part of the SDK alliance) and a new party, the Alliance of New Citizens (ANO). Since the SDL’ and the SOP were not represented in parliament any more, the new coalition was more homogeneous and more centre-right than the previous Dzurinda government. The confirmation of the Dzurinda government and the defeat of Meciar cleared the last hurdle for membership in the EU and NATO. Slovakia received an invitation to join NATO in November 2002 and concluded its accession negotiations with the EU in December 2002. It joined both organizations in 2004. A case of transnational reinforcement? In 1998 and 2002, the majority of the Slovak electorate voted in favor of a pro-EU coalition of parties and prevented the dominant political figure of the earlier 1990s – Vladimír Meciar – from remaining in, and returning to, power. The development appears to contradict the pattern of political change in many Eastern European countries (Bulgaria, Croatia, Romania, and Serbia after 2000); namely, that reform-oriented coalitions strongly favoured by European organizations were voted out of office in the following elections and replaced by more or less reformed representatives of the ‘old’, nationalist and/or reformadverse political forces. In Chapter 3, we took this pattern as evidence for the irrelevance of the transnational channel of international socialization and conditionality, and for the proposition that the majority of voters were not

126 International Socialization in Europe

primarily motivated by EU or NATO preferences or membership perspectives. Is Slovakia an exception to the rule? Did the strong rejection of Meciar by the European organizations influence the voting behaviour of the Slovak electorate in favour of his opponents? Which pieces of evidence would we need to show that Slovakia was indeed an exception? First, the main Western organizations should have sent a clear message to the voters that the election of a HZDS- or Meciar-led government would seriously impede the prospects of EU and NATO membership for Slovakia. As shown in the section on international strategies, this has been the case. Second, we would need evidence that a majority of Slovak citizens not only favoured EU and NATO membership in general but also put these goals high on their lists of priorities for their voting decisions. Third, we should observe a significant shift in the polls and elections in favour of those parties that were most strongly pro-integration and received the strongest support from the European organizations. Finally, we should be able to argue that, in the absence of Western conditionality, the election outcome would have been significantly different. The societal conditions for transnational influence were generally favourable in Slovakia. First, support for democracy in Slovakia was as strong as in the more consolidated democracies of the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland.38 Second, a majority of Slovak citizens has been in favour of EU membership. In 1997, 62 per cent would have voted for EU membership in a referendum; in 2001 and 2002, 58 per cent considered EU membership ‘a good thing’, and 64 and 62 per cent ‘tended to trust’ the EU.39 In contrast, public opinion on NATO membership has always been more negative. In 1997, only 31 per cent would have supported Slovak membership in NATO in a referendum. Thus, transnational influence could only have been exerted successfully by the EU. Indeed, the majority of Slovak citizens was aware of and preoccupied with the deterioration of their country’s standing in Europe and its exclusion from EU enlargement. The concern was second only to the concern about the growth of domestic violence (Bútorová 1998: 35; Bútorová and Gyárfášová 1998: 54, 59, 62). What is more, the reasons given by the opposition and international organizations for the exclusion of Slovakia were more accepted among the electorate than the accusations and excuses of the government (Bútorová and Bútora 1998: 177; 1999: 90). Finally, some observers claim that Western support to NGO and opposition campaigns helped to mobilize nonvoters, which secured the victory of the opposition parties in the parliamentary elections (see, for example, Pridham 1999: 1237; 2001: 87). The turnout of 84 per cent was 9 percentage points above that of 1994. On the other hand, discontent with the government and support for the democratic opposition was not a new development triggered by EU conditionality. First, according to Bútora and Bútorová (1999: 84), popular support ‘was significantly higher for the opposition than for the ruling parties’ ever since the elections of 1994. Second, Slovak society was highly concerned about the

Slovakia 127

deterioration of the human rights situation in their country. Of all the EU candidate countries, Slovaks saw the political development of their country (between 1993 and 1997) most negatively (Stankovsky, Plasser and Ulram 1998: 78). According to the Central and Eastern Eurobarometer public opinion polls, Slovaks have been very dissatisfied with democracy and democratization in their country during the entire four years of the Meciar government – only about one quarter expressed a positive evaluation. The figure for ‘general satisfaction with direction of the country’ was the lowest for all of the candidate countries in 1997.40 Third, the polls show that, while Slovak citizens were critical and aware of Slovakia’s worsened international status, ‘respondents ascribe minor importance to Slovakia’s integration into EuroAtlantic structures’. Indeed, only 4 per cent identified ‘foreign policy’ as the country’s most pressing problem (Bútorová and Gyárfášová 1998: 53). Fourth, as the analysis of Kevin Krause shows, it was the main effect of EU conditionality to make the adherents of the parties in government more hostile to the EU while it raised trust in the EU on the part of the adherents of the opposition parties – rather than winning over voters from the government to the opposition camp (2003: 78–80). Finally, not even the effect of increasing voter turnout appears to have been decisive. The opposition parties would still have won the elections if all new voters had stayed at home (and assuming that all new voters voted for the opposition parties). ‘A closer look at Slovakia’s election results … suggest[s] that while voter education and increased turnout did clearly help the opposition, they merely built upon a victory that it would have … won in any case.’ (Krause 2003: 81). In sum, it is difficult to argue that, in the absence of EU membership conditionality and Western pressure and support for a change in government in Slovakia, the vote in the 1998 parliamentary elections would have looked significantly different. It rather seems to have followed the general pattern of dissatisfaction with and electoral defeat of incumbents. External factors appear to have been helpful but not decisive. What is more, intermediate domestic factors have to be taken into account to arrive at a more accurate picture. On the one hand, external effects do not only have a potential impact on societal responses and voter decisions but also on party strategies. On the other hand, voter decisions do not directly translate into political outcomes but are filtered through institutions and collective actors (parties). Firstly, in the 1994 elections, around 13 per cent of the vote was cast for parties that failed to pass the five per cent threshold required to be represented in parliament. These ‘wasted votes’ allowed the Meciar coalition to govern with 47.72 per cent of the popular vote. Had the opposition been less fragmented and had it attracted two-thirds of the ‘wasted votes’, it would have won a majority in parliament. The picture was slightly reversed in the 1998 parliamentary elections. Less than six per cent of the vote was not represented in parliament, and the former opposition parties realized their full potential. Ironically enough, the electoral laws designed by the Meciar

128 International Socialization in Europe

government to reduce the chances of the opposition were quite helpful. The new five per cent threshold for each party in party alliances forced some opposition parties to merge, and the DS and KSÚ, which failed to pass the threshold in 1994 with almost six per cent of the vote, now competed as part of the Slovak Democratic Coalition. Finally, the confirmation of the Dzurinda government and the defeat of the populist-authoritarian alternative cannot be regarded as special if changes in the party constellations are taken into account. The parties of the Dzurinda government 1998–2002 represented over 58 per cent of the vote. The same parties only attracted less than 38 per cent in 2002. This more than doubles the losses incurred by the parties of the Meciar government between 1994 and 1998 and is hardly a sign of massive voter support for the political forces most strongly backed by the Western organizations – although support was considerably higher than the polls had predicted. Most of the votes lost by the Dzurinda coalition went to two parties, Smer and ANO, which explicitly presented themselves as alternatives to the ‘old’ parties and the previous democraticauthoritarian divide. The parties of the 1994 Meciar government received almost 30 per cent of the vote but combined with the votes for other populist parties (Smer and the Communist KSS), the number increased to almost 50 per cent. Finally, despite another massive campaign backed by Western funding, turnout fell by 14 per cent to 70 per cent. Thus, at the level of voting, Slovakia is not a special case; the incumbent parties and leaders have suffered from significant electoral dissatisfaction just as in the other ‘mixed’ CEECs. In addition, the key issues for voters were crime and the economic situation in the country rather than Western integration, and a majority of the voters even resented Western interference (Haughton 2003: 84). Another effect similar to other CEECs was programmatic change in the defeated authoritarian parties. As a result of the improved membership prospects of Slovakia in the EU and NATO – and the popularity of these developments with the electorate – the HZDS and its leader Meciar finally embraced Western integration unequivocally. This ‘rebranding’ effect can be explained as an instrumental response to changed international and domestic circumstances. At its congress in March 2000, the HZDS declared itself in favour of EU and NATO membership, renamed itself as ‘HZDS-People’s Party’ and decided to seek membership in the centre-right European party family, the European Democratic Union. It also distanced itself from the old, nationalist allies of the Slovak National Party (Haughton 2003: 69–71). The European international community, however, was not convinced of these moves. The EDU rejected the HZDS application, and the Western organizations continued to shun Meciar. The Dzurinda government was saved partly by the five per cent threshold and partly by the external influences on coalition-building. First, although the Dzurinda government lost less than two per cent because of the threshold, the fragmented parties of the old Meciar government lost as much as 10 per cent. Secondly, EU and NATO conditionality helped to isolate Meciar in Slovak

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coalition politics. As long as Meciar was at the helm of the HZDS, the strongest party of Slovakia could not even find coalition partners among the fellow populists in Smer or in ANO, who could have formed a majority in parliament together with the HZDS but did not want to be responsible for Slovakia’s rejection by the Western organizations. Meciar feared that this situation might create a revolt in his own party against him and so he had the alleged party rebels removed from the party list.41 This, however, only led to a split in the HZDS and the establishment of a new splinter party, the HZD, which subtracted 3.3 percentage points from the HZDS vote. In sum, we would argue that the significance of the effect of EU and NATO conditionality on the outcome of the parliamentary elections was higher in 2002 than it was in 1998. This effect, however, did not occur at the level of voters and social groups but at the level of parties and party coalitions.

Conclusion Table 8.5 summarizes the conditions and outcomes of international democratic conditionality during the Dzurinda government (1998–2002) as compared with the previous Meciar government. Given the very favourable international and domestic conditions during the Dzurinda government, compliance was rather over-determined. In addition, the table confirms that the variation in legitimacy and resonance between the two big issues ‘democracy and rule of law’, on the one hand, and ‘minority protection’, on the other, was causally inconsequential. It was not unimportant, however, for the relevance of democratic conditionality. Although compliance with the general norms of democracy and the rule of law has been almost automatic and did not require the EU or NATO to apply explicit conditionality, the reduced resonance of minority protection has been a constant source of Table 8.5

Conditions and compliance in Slovakia Identification Resonance Compliance

Cases

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Democracy and rule of law 1994–98


(high)


(high)


(high)

(high) (low)

(low)

Minority protection 1994–98


(high)


(high)

(low)

(high) (low)

(reduced) Noncompliance

Democracy
(high) and rule of law 1998–2002


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)

(high)


(high)


(high)

(low)


(low)


(high) (reduced) Compliance

Minority protection 1998–2002

Noncompliance

Compliance

130 International Socialization in Europe

tension and conflict within the coalition. In this case, EU and NATO conditionality was not only helpful in pushing the more reticent parties in the government (SDL’ and SOP) towards accepting external recommendations on minority rights but probably even more so in persuading the Hungarian Coalition Party to stay in government when it failed to achieve its more farreaching demands. Without EU or NATO prodding, it is likely that the Dzurinda government would not have lasted through its entire term. The comparison between compliance during the Meciar and Dzurinda governments reveals that both ‘domestic costs’ and ‘identification’ are plausible candidates for explaining the change from non-compliance to compliance. If we take into account, however, that non-compliance in the Meciar period was primarily caused by high domestic power costs, the finding is confirmed by the study of the Dzurinda period. Whereas Meciar feared that compliance with EU and NATO demands would destroy his government, Dzurinda could count on EU and NATO demands to stabilize his coalition. Other factors were clearly less relevant: first, the size and credibility of international rewards only qualify as necessary but not sufficient factors. Second, there is no co-variation between legitimacy or resonance and compliance.

Notes 1 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 30 November 1994; FT, 9 August 1995. 2 AE, 7 December 1994. 3 Cf. ‘Schlußdokument zur Eröffnungskonferenz über einen Stabilitätspakt für Europa’, Paris, 27 May 1994, cited in Europa-Archiv 49: 13–14, 1994, D403–D407. 4 AE, 27 October 1995. 5 Quoted according to Goldman (1999: 155). See also AE, 25 October 1996. 6 Frantisek Sebej (SDK), quoted according to Goldman (1999: 166). 7 AE, 15 October 1997. 8 See PACE Resolution 1196(1999), ‘Honouring of obligations and commitments by Slovakia’. 9 See Kelley (2004: 186); Samson (2001). Our view is shared by Krause (2003: 71–2). 10 CTK National News Wire, 26 October 1995. 11 See, for example, Goldman (1999: 159–64); Pridham (2002a: 212–13); Schneider (1997: 33–4); RFE/RL Newsline, 13 February 1998. 12 AE, 26 January 1995. 13 See AE, 26 February 1997; 28 June 1997; 14 October 1997; 23 October 1997. 14 FT, 3 May 1995. 15 RFE/RL Newsline, 5 October 1997. 16 RFE/RL Newsline, 27 May 1997. 17 Since two of the parties, the SDK and the SMK were actually alliances or mergers of independent parties, the total number of parties in the coalition was ten. 18 Therefore, there is no need here to go into detail on the individual parties. 19 RFE/RL Newsline, 9 November 1998. 20 RFE/RL Newsline, 28 December 1998; 22 January 1999. 21 SZ, 1 July 1999. 22 See RFE/RL Newsline, 5 May 1999; 9 June 1999 (quote).

Slovakia 131 23 RFE/RL Newsline, 16 June 1999. 24 RFE/RL Newsline, 14 July 1999. 25 RFE/RL Newsline, 20 July 1999. Only the Hungarian government objected to the law. 26 PACE Resolution 1196(1999), Official Gazette of the Council of Europe, September 1999. 27 European Commission, Regular Report on Slovakia, 13 October 1999. 28 RFE/RL Newsline, 16 November 1998. 29 FAZ, 17 February 2001. 30 RFE/RL Newsline, 11, 16 and 25 July 2001. 31 RFE/RL Newsline, 18 September 2000. 32 RFE/RL Newsline, 15, 23 and 24 August 2001. See also Henderson (2002: 54); Pridham (2002b: 965). 33 RFE/RL Newsline, 27 June 2001. 34 RFE/RL Newsline, 3 May 2002. 35 Radio Slovakia/BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 10 December 2001. 36 Reuters, 7 January 2002. 37 RFE/RL Newsline, 20 June 2002. 38 See Stankovsky, Plasser and Ulram (1998: 80). Some figures were even better than in the Central European neighbouring countries (ibid.: 81, 83). 39 See Central and Eastern Eurobarometer 8, Applicant Countries Eurobarometer 2001, and Candidate Countries Eurobarometer 2002. For online availability, see http://europa.eu.int/comm/public_opinion/index_en.htm (28 July 2005). 40 Central and Eastern Eurobarometer 8. 41 FAZ, 4 September 2002.

9 Romania

Introduction The Romanian case parallels the Slovak case study in many respects. In a similar manner, the ruling post-Communist PDSR turned Romania into a semiauthoritarian façade democracy by 1992 and rejected the introduction of minority rights for the Hungarian and Roma minorities. In contrast with the Slovak case, the overall internal conditions for compliance changed twice in Romania. After a coalition between the post-Communist PDSR and right-wing nationalists under President Ion Iliescu had ruled Romania until 1996, a new coalition government of democratic forces under President Constantinescu came to power in the national election of the same year. The year 2000 election then resulted in a return of the PDSR and President Ion Iliescu to power. This allows us to observe whether the same ruling elite behaved differently under altered international conditions.

Conflict and norm violation At the beginning of the 1990s, Romania was in conflict with many constitutive norms of the Western international community. Here, we will follow the more general aspects of Romania’s compliance with democratic principles (democratic reform) and the more specific issue of minority rights. After decades of totalitarian Communist rule under Ceaus¸escu and terror of the Romanian security service Securitate, the regime was toppled after weeks of demonstrations and violence in late 1989 (Crowther 2003: 91). Only a few hours after Ceaus¸ escu decided to flee and his regime disintegrated, a diverse group of the former regime and party officials around the former Politburo member Ion Iliescu, organized as the National Salvation Front (NSF), claimed leadership and basically hijacked the revolution (Crowther 2003: 91). State and party propaganda diffused the myth of ‘Iliescu’s outstanding headship’ during ‘the bloody revolution’. Well before other political forces were able to organize themselves and their support, the election in May 1990 made 132

Romania 133

Iliescu President with 85.2 per cent of the vote, and the NSF the governing political force with 66.71 per cent (Gallagher 2000: 185, 188). Thanks to this major victory, the NSF was able to revise the constitution and reshape the institutions on its own narrow terms, granting important discretionary power to the President (Gallagher 2000: 185). While Romania formally became a democracy, with elections and competitive parties, it was uncertain whether it would become a true liberal democracy. In essence, Romania was transformed into a façade democracy (Gallagher 2001: 387). Many totalitarian aspects of the old Communist constitution remained unchanged or were brought into the new constitution via the back door. Simple legislation and the practice of state authorities continued to violate basic rights on a broader scale. Moreover, a clear-cut separation of powers was missing in the new constitution. In addition, the existing ties between the judiciary and the political leadership gave the ruling elite the ability to use courts, police, and security forces very much at will. The use of force by police and security forces against opposition groups remained common.1 The use the government made of the state-controlled media contradicted the freedom of expression and made misinformation and propaganda the hallmark of the new regime. While around 200 parties participated in the more or less free elections in 1990 and in 1992, many of those parties turned out to be satellite parties (phantom parties) of the PDSR. This practice undermined the democratic party system by intentionally provoking a fragmentation of the liberal democratic spectrum and confusing voters (Gabanyi 1995: 24). Furthermore, there are a number of national minorities living in Romania. Hungarians, Roma and Germans make up roughly 10 per cent of the population and were subject to discrimination during the Ceaus¸escu era (Klein 1996: 818). Although in January 1990 the National Salvation Front (NSF) promised the minorities the introduction of new provisions to improve their situation, nothing happened. In March, a demonstration for regional autonomy by thousands of Hungarians took place in the city of Targu Mures. Violent clashes between Hungarians and Romanians followed and led to a deeply hostile climate between the groups in the region (Crowther 2003: 93). The situation calmed down temporarily after the new constitution was passed in 1991, which declared respect for national minorities (Gabanyi 1998: 216). Nonetheless, the ethnic conflict was to continue, since the authorities did little to translate the constitutional principles into policies that would actively protect the minorities from assimilation and repression (Klein 1996: 822–30).2 Freedom House ranked Romania only as partly free (5, 5) at the time.3 Amnesty International regularly criticized Romania for violating international human rights treaties.4

International demands and conditions As we have argued before, the demands of the EU and other organizations for democratic reform (including the protection of fundamental political and

134 International Socialization in Europe

civil rights) had a high legitimacy, because all members of the international in-group – that is, all western European countries – agreed to follow these norms and stood unified behind the demands. This was different in the case of minority rights, which demanded active measures to protect minorities. Here, the legitimacy was rather low, because no broad-based international consensus existed. Early international efforts to influence Romania have been rather weak. After tensions rose and violence erupted in former Yugoslavia, Romania did not receive much attention (Gallagher 2000: 188; 2001: 388–9). In 1992, after Romania had reached some interim stability, the CE and the CSCE intensified their efforts from ad hoc shaming to a more structured and more detailed approach. In August and September 1993, the High Commissioner on National Minorities (HCNM) stated that Romania should implement the minority rights laid out in the new constitution of 1991.5 In September 1993, the CE made membership conditional on adherence to its standards. In its opinion on Romania’s membership application, its Parliamentary Assembly asked the Romanian authorities to adopt the basic treaties of the Council and implement new legislation to improve the overall human rights situation, the separation of powers, and independence of the media as well as to improve the situation of the national minorities.6 Since CSCE and CE mainly offered social rewards, the incentives were low during this early period. The EC initially cut its ties with Romania during the early phase from 1989 to 1990 because of severe human rights violations and the political instability in the country,7 thus establishing credible conditionality in the beginning. In February 1993, however, the EC and Romania signed a Europe Agreement of association. The preamble of the treaty referred to the protection of minorities and human rights, the rule of law and the adherence to democracy. Moreover, the EC added the so-called ‘Bulgarian clause’ to the agreement, which provided for the option to suspend the agreement, thus linking up to the implementation of the principles with respect for liberal-democratic norms. However, despite the option to suspend parts of the agreement while keeping others operational, the EU has never used it to apply pressure on Romania. Rather, the Union continued to provide economic assistance throughout the first half of the 1990s. As in the other cases, the general decision to enlarge at the

Table 9.1 Romania

External incentives in the international socialization of

Cases Democratic reform and Minority protection

1989–93 1993–96 1996–2000 2000–

Incentives

Credibility

 (low)
(high)
(high)
(high)


(high)  (low)
(high)
(high)

Romania 135

Copenhagen European Council of June 1993 increased the external incentives of compliance but, in the case of Romania, the credibility of the membership promise remained low: at the time, Romania was not on the list of likely candidates for a first round of EU enlargement. Thus, the credibility of both the promise of membership and the threat of exclusion was low during this period. In 1994, the EU began to work towards resolving the ethnic tensions in and between the CEECs through the Stability Pact Process. In this context, the Union went beyond shaming the Romanian government and made the conclusion of a friendship treaty with Hungary, including legally binding minority protection rules, a prerequisite for membership. From 1996/97 onwards, the EU applied membership conditionality more coherently by relying on the provisions of the Association Treaty and later on the demands spelled out in the Agenda 2000 Report of the European Commission. These became increasingly concrete in the Regular Reports that followed. The threat to withhold the incentive of membership became highly credible after the Luxembourg Council decision of December 1997 to exclude Romania from accession negotiations. The credibility of the membership promise grew, too, when the EU decided to start concrete accession negotiations with five CEECs and Cyprus, but also formally opened the accession process with the other associated CEECs including Romania. With the 1999 decision of the Helsinki summit to start accession negotiations with Romania, the credibility of the promise increased even further. In addition, NATO membership became a credible offer for Romania in the course of the 1990s. At the NATO Madrid summit in May 1997, Romania was mentioned as a likely future member together with Slovenia if democratic reform and consolidation progressed.

1989–96 Domestic conditions Tom Gallagher described the politicians of the ruling NSF/PDSR as reluctant democrats, wedded to illiberal practices and with a nearly monolithic approach to political power (Gallagher 2001: 383). Like Ion Iliescu, most members were very much part of the old system, most critical of democratic principles and the market economy.The resonance of democratic norms was thus rather low. The same applies to minority protection, because the ruling elite had a monolithic approach to sovereignty and society, and was therefore unwilling to give up central control of the country by allowing minority self-rule. The period until 1992 saw demonstrations of reform-minded opposition groups that accused the ruling elite of hijacking the revolution and of resisting democratic reform. Under the impression of public unrest, Prime Minister Petre Roman seemed prepared to change the government’s political course. The conservatives in the NSF resisted this move supported by security forces and workers from the mining industry that crushed the demonstrations and

136 International Socialization in Europe Table 9.2

Domestic conditions during the PDSR government

Cases Democratic reform and Minority protection

1989–93 1993–96

Costs

Identification

Resonance

 (high)  (high)

 (low)
(high)

 (low)  (low)

caused Petre Roman to resign from power (Gallagher 2000: 188–9). The NSF subsequently split into two major groups. The conservatives and President Iliescu formed the PDSR (Partidul Democratiei Sociale din Romania) and the smaller group around Petre Roman established the Democratic Party. Despite the split in the NSF, the PDSR continued to rule the country (Gallagher 2000: 189). A democratic opposition formed only slowly under the umbrella of the Conventia Democrata Romana (CDR). The Hungarian minority formed its own party of Hungarian democrats (HDUR). The Democratic Party of former PM Petre Roman presented a further alternative to the PDSR. These liberal parties clearly argued in favour of integration into European structures and for reforms on all levels right from the beginning. For these democratic opposition parties, the resonance of Western democratic norms was high. All opposition parties clearly opted for reforms along the lines of their Western role models. Thus, the democratic opposition strongly identified itself with the West, too. At the same time, however, the overall desperate situation in Romania also created an atmosphere where post-Communist right-wing forces were able to gain support for a policy of nationalism and strong leadership. The national elections in 1992 resulted in a stronger position for the nationalist parties in parliament and made an informal coalition with three other post-socialist parties – the PRM, PUNR, and the PSM – necessary for the PDSR to stay in power. Those three parties based their political agenda rather stalwartly on nationalist principles (low resonance). Moreover, PRM, PUNR, and PSM clearly rejected the protection of minorities, favoured the unity of the country, and relied in various ways on a vision for a greater Romania (Gabanyi 1995: 19–28; Gallagher 2000: 190). The identification of the ruling elite with the Western international community was not high at first. The PDSR and Iliescu publicly embraced nationalist views, calling for national unity, a leading role for Romania in the region, and the preservation of national independence. The first official visit abroad led Iliescu to Serbia in 1990, and a new treaty of friendship with Moscow in April 1991 (Gallagher 2001: 392–3) gave the impression that the government was oriented toward the East (Crowther 2003: 93–4). On the other hand, Iliescu’s support of the West during the Gulf War and the government’s willingness officially to support the international embargo against Yugoslavia in 1992 – with both decisions damaging the Romanian economic interest quite heavily (Gallagher 2001: 393) – indicated that the Romanian leadership slowly changed

Romania 137

its identification. In the election programme of the PDSR for the 1992 national elections, cooperation with the EU played a vague but important role (Hartwig 2001: 66). The programme stated that Romania needed to assume an active role in international relations in Europe with a possible integration into European structures in the future. Still, tangible elucidations on the policy towards integration were missing. In 1993, Iliescu and the PDSR started to adopt a more clear-cut, pro-European rhetoric (identification  high). To enhance its image and gain economically from better relations with the West, the government emphasized cooperation with the EU.8 Internal reform became rhetorically connected to Romanian rapprochement with the EU (Hartwig 2001: 67). The party programme even envisaged membership for the year 2000. The costs of compliance with Western demands for democratic reform were high for the ruling PDSR, because these threatened to change the domestic power equilibrium which favoured the PDSR and its control of the state structures (Gallagher 1995: 232–3; Gallagher 2000: 186). In addition, reforms endangered the position of the former secret service officers, the directors and the administrative staff of 6000 state firms, who supported the PDSR and basically managed to exploit the firms for their own good (Crowther 2003: 96).9 The same applied to the introduction of minority rights (high costs), because these were seen to endanger the unitary character of Romania, which allowed central control and endangered the position of local PDSR officials ruling the districts of Romania. The share of minorities in Romania was not as high as in the Baltic States, thus the threat to the integrity of the state was lower. At the same time, the informal coalition with right-wing nationalists made the PDSR dependent on the more nationalist forces since the political divide between the PDSR and the democratic parties inhibited the formation of an alternative coalition. Thus, the introduction of liberal reforms and minority rights bore the risk of losing the majority in parliament.

Process and outcome After the revolution the government first chose to consolidate its power. Appealing to the fears of the ordinary people, the government justified its resistance to liberal reform with the painfulness of economic restructuration and the already high level of public unrest. However, the myth of the PDSR/ NSP leadership in the ‘bloody revolution’, which secured early support, began to fade by 1992 and the deterioration of Romania’s economic and social situation began to triage the agenda. The foreign policy orientation towards Moscow helped little to prevent the status quo from deteriorating because economic relations with Russia continued to decline. Thus, the Romanian government searched for alternatives. The Romanian government increasingly embraced the West rhetorically and tried to reconcile relations to gain access to Western markets, international investments, European aid and international loans. Iliescu and his Prime Minister Vacaroiu even committed themselves

138 International Socialization in Europe

verbally to meet the European standards. Only in the case of minority rights, the Romanian government argued that the broadening of minority rights would destabilize the region and that bilateral treaties were a better way to handle the problems (Gabanyi 1993: 532). As Romania generally seemed to change course, the CE decided to accept Romania’s commitment to its standards as satisfying for the time being, and to monitor and foster compliance from within the organization. The CE invited the country to join on 28 September 1993 and Romania signed the ECHR shortly thereafter. In effect, it became a CE member without adopting liberal-democratic standards (Maner 1997: 114). In the following two years, CE and OSCE delegations visited Bucharest to monitor the development of democracy and the adherence to minority protection, and argued in favour of amendments, but nothing changed. The Romanian government only made symbolic concessions: it signed the CE Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities in February 1995 and even ratified it in May (Crowther 2003: 97). But when it came to more concrete decisions about implementation, the Romanian government resisted. Subsequently, the EU and NATO began to stress the importance of a treaty with Hungary to resolve the minority issue and continued to demand overall internal political reform (Gallagher 2001: 395; Klein 1996: 834). After the Association Agreement came into force in February 1995, Commission President Jaques Santer told President Iliescu that Romania needed to increase efforts towards political reform if the country wanted to preserve its chances to join the Union at some point.10 At the time, Prime Minister Vacaroiu rejected international criticism and argued that the situation was then far better than during the Communist era.11 The government coalition even decided not to implement any minority law in the future.12 The policy on national minorities became even more restrictive: first, even though a Council on National Minorities was introduced, the government refrained from giving it real competences, making the Hungarian Democratic Party leave the forum at the end of 1995 (Kolar 1995: 65). Second, a new education law was passed on 24 July 1995 that asked for history lessons to be taught in Romanian only. The history of the Romanian people was to be taught exclusively, without any consideration of the history of the minorities. Third, a controversial law on public administration was passed in March 1996. It restricted the right of people belonging to a minority to make use of their mother tongue in official contacts. In parallel, however, the EU increased its efforts. At the final conference on the Stability Pact in March 1995, it pressured Romania to conclude a bilateral treaty with Hungary on border and minority issues. On 18 July 1995, after a meeting with the Romanian foreign minister in Paris, his German and French counterparts linked membership candidacy for Romania in NATO and EU with compliance.13 These efforts slowly resulted in progress in the negotiations between Romania and Hungary, but it became increasingly difficult for the Romanian government to balance out concessions with the need to

Romania 139

maintain government stability. As the negotiations continued, the rightwing PRM, which opposed any concessions, left the coalition.14 Still, the treaty was finally signed in September 1996.15 In general, the treaty was an important step forward in the relations between Romania and Hungary. The parties pledged to protect the political, cultural, and linguistic rights of their minorities, including the right to have their own media and the right to be educated in their mother tongue at all levels of education (Linden 2000: 131). Bucharest claimed that the treaty accorded with the CE guidelines.16 However, the value of the treaty was weakened by the fact that both parties agreed that Recommendation 1201 of the CE should not be interpreted as granting collective rights or some kind of territorial autonomy to ethnic minorities.17 In essence, the central aspect that would have made it unavoidable for the government to alter the distribution of power in favour of the minority remained untouched. Moreover, nothing happened to translate the treaty into practice. The behaviour reflected the domestic political calculations of the PDSR at the time. Concluding the treaty did not endanger the power base of the PDSR. The coalition with nationalist parties seemed to be a dead end in the light of the upcoming elections. The further breakdown of the postcommunist– nationalist government coalition, caused by the opposition of the PUNR to the treaty,18 did not matter much, since the PRM had already left the coalition before and the PDSR had to lead a minority government anyhow. Concluding the agreement helped to sharpen the image of President Iliescu as a great European leader and an anchor for peace without requiring significant domestic change. The fact that the treaty explicitly excluded the possibility of selfgovernment or regional autonomy satisfied the conservatives in the PDSR who wanted to preserve the unitary character of Romania and the centralist government in Bucharest (Klein 1996: 835). Concerning democratic standards, the rhetoric of the government also moved towards a stronger European orientation without changing government behaviour significantly. For example, the government planned to give further authority to the secret service and to cut the rights of journalists in November 1995.19 The rhetoric was only matched by reluctant and minimal legal change after the EU Commission, and the member states France and Germany had criticized Romania more forcefully.20 On the 25 April 1996, and in response to international demands, the government reformed the election law by raising the number of people necessary to form a party to 10,000 – thus ending the possibility of forming phantom parties (Néve 1997: 230–1). Interestingly enough, the reform turned out to be ambivalent because some provisions of the new law became a stumbling block for parties like the Hungarian Democratic Union in Romania (HDUR) – the strongest minority organization in Romania.21 Until the end of this phase, the use of force against civilians, violations of human rights and discrimination against minorities continued.22 Thus, compliance remained low.

140 International Socialization in Europe Table 9.3

Cases

Conditions and compliance during the PDSR government (1989–96)

Incentives Credibility

Legitimacy

Costs

Identification Resonance Compliance

Democratic  (low) reform 1989–93


(high)


(high)

 (high)  (low)

 (low)

Noncompliance

Democratic
(high) reform 1993–96

 (low)


(high)

 (high)
(high)  (low)

Noncompliance

Minority protection 1989–93

 (low)


(high)

 (low)

 (high)  (low)

 (low)

Noncompliance

Minority protection 1993–96


(high)

 (low)

 (low)

 (high)
(high)  (low)

Noncompliance

In sum, the early 1990s were dominated by the firm grip of President Iliescu and the PDSR on Romania. The identification with Europe was low until 1993, while the resonance of its norms was rather low all the time. The costs of reforms were high. Efforts by the OSCE and the CE, and even the CE’s membership conditionality only resulted in some superficial adaptation without implementation in Romanian law and government policy. By comparison, the EU’s policy brought about hesitant formal concessions after the government had changed its in-group commitment rhetorically. Romania essentially moved only slowly towards compliance.

1996–2000 Domestic conditions The second national elections led to a victory of the democratic forces campaigning on demands for reform towards democracy and social market economy. The elections made the Conventia Democrata Romana (CDR) the strongest party alliance in Parliament and Senate (122 seats out of 341 in the Parliament; 53 seats out of 143 in the Senate). The party of Hungarian democrats received 25 seats in Parliament and 11 in the Senate (Néve 2001: 236–8). In the presidential elections, Emil Constantinescu (CDR) was able to beat Ion Iliescu (PDSR) in the run-off vote. A centre-right coalition of the CDR, the Farmers Union, the Democratic Party of Petre Roman and the Hungarian Democratic Party with Victor Ciorbea as Prime Minister took over government. Now, a coalition dominated Romanian politics that generally identified itself strongly with the Western European international community and based its political convictions on Western democratic traditions (high resonance). The coalition was basically a ‘coalition of coalitions’ (Crowther 2003: 100), based on a coalition of electoral lists, made up by liberal, conservative as well

Romania 141 Table 9.4

Domestic conditions during the CDR government (1996–2000)

Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

Democratic reform Minority protection


(low)
(low)


(high)
(high)



(high)

(high)

as social democratic groups and supplemented by a number of single issue movements (Néve 2001: 282). The party system remained dynamic and the consolidation of the different alliances and groups into parties only developed slowly (Gabanyi 1995: 9; 1998: 252; Néve 2001: 284–5). Coalition partners often supported different variants of the reform policy, mainly because they wanted to protect the interest of their constituencies (Crowther 2003: 101). Not only did this make policy formulation most difficult, it also had an impact on the ability to maintain support in parliament and implement new legislation. Additionally, a high number of PDSR members cancelled their membership shortly after the election and became members of the governing parties. In particular local mayors, administrative staff and directors of state-owned firms changed their party affiliation in favour of Petre Roman’s Democratic Party (Néve 2001: 239–40). By trying to save their posts, positions and privileges, they now supported the block within the ruling democratic coalition that was most hesitant to reform (Crowther 2003: 101). Consequently, the government turned out to be fragile. However, there was no real political alternative for the ruling democratic parties, because all of them sought to exclude the PDSR and the right-wing nationalists from government and because they generally agreed to break the old structures in order to transform Romania into a Western-style democracy. Hence, the costs of compliance with democratic norms and minority protection were altogether low for the ruling parties.

Process and outcome The elections of November 1996 attracted intensive interest from the international community. At first, it seemed that the democratic forces would be able to kick-start the needed reforms, but already coalition formation caused some scrimmage over a ministerial post for the Hungarian Democratic Party (UDMR), which the National Liberal Party (PNL), parts of the Farmers Union and the Democratic Party of Petre Roman were reluctant to concede. After extensive bargaining between the parties, György Tokay of the UDMR became the Minister for National Minorities and the coalition pact was signed on the 6 December 1996.23 Victor Ciorbea, the new Prime Minister, echoed the demands of the European Union for reform right away (Maner 1997: 113). President Constantinescu

142 International Socialization in Europe

also repeatedly pointed out that the new government was committed to reforms in order to become a member of the European Union and NATO.24 The early reform enthusiasm, however, soon faded, because the government turned out to be unable to agree. A major reform project was only launched after Commissioner Hans van den Broek had expressed the support of the EU to Romania in a speech before the Romanian parliament in April 1997, repeated the membership promise, welcomed the friendship treaty with Hungary but asked the Romanian elite to do more about the minority issues.25 Soon afterwards, in May 1997, the government introduced an emergency ordinance (Decree 22), which allowed the use of Hungarian in local governments in regions where minorities held 20 per cent of the population, including signs and road posts in minority language and the use of native language in council meetings. The ordinance also required authorities to employ Hungarianspeaking personnel in ethnically mixed areas. Thus, the new government finally began to implement the stipulations of the Hungarian–Romanian treaty and started to comply with OSCE demands and CE obligations. However, the Commission’s Opinion of July 1997 gave a rather negative assessment of the state Romania was in (European Commission 1997c). The Commission criticized the fact that the rule of law needed to be enforced at all levels, that gaps remained referring to respect for fundamental rights, that there was a need to improve the judicial system, the protection of individual rights and the operation of the penal system. With regard to the situation of the minorities, the Commission welcomed the efforts made, and requested further efforts, pointing in particular to the situation of the Roma and Sinti, which was judged to be completely unsatisfactory. Overall, the Commission stated that Romania did not comply with the political criteria, but also pointed out that the initial democratic change in Romania was encouraging. The decision of the EU Luxembourg Council (in December 1997) not to include Romania in the first group of candidates, was therefore rather unsurprising. Nevertheless, the fact that the EU had put Romania on the formal track to accession made the promise of membership more credible. Moreover, NATO came to the same conclusion about Romania’s membership credentials as the EU and rejected early NATO membership of the country at its summit in Madrid in July, despite the fact that Romania had won some support from France and some southern NATO members by virtue of its stabilizing role in the Balkans (Gallagher 2001: 398). At the same time, however, NATO explicitly recognized Romania as a future member of the Alliance – also adding credibility to the political conditionality of the Western international community. Therefore, the double rejection by NATO and the EU did not result in a major crisis but encouraged the government to pursue the path of reform. However, because Prime Minister Ciorbea was unable to find quick political support in his heterogeneous coalition, he increasingly had to rely on government ordinances to introduce reform programmes, parliament’s only option being to approve the programmes and laws afterwards. Progress slowed

Romania 143

down again after the summer and was stalled by November, when a coalition crisis erupted over the reform path and a series of demonstrations hit the country.26 At the end of 1997 (3 December), Prime Minister Ciorbea tried to put an end to the coalition crisis and the unrest in Romania by restructuring the government and exchanging one third of the ministers. After the crisis had ended, the Civil Procedure Code was revised in January 1998. In addition, parliament adopted amendments to the legal framework of the judiciary (Maner 1997: 115–17). The next reversal came in the spring of 1998. First, the Senate failed to ratify the decree on the use of minority languages in local bodies introduced earlier. Second, the constitutional court judged Decree 22 invalid, because the government had failed to show the necessary emergency for it.27 Third, the conflict between the CDR and the Democratic Party continued (Gallagher 2001: 398). The Democratic Party withdrew its ministers from the coalition after ongoing disagreements over the reform course and Ciorbea’s handling of the coalition. Finally, Ciorbea resigned at the end of March 1998.28 Rudu Vasile, the Secretary General of the PNTCD, the biggest party in the CDR alliance, became the new prime minister of a government based on the same coalition of democratic forces. Soon afterwards, crisis re-emerged. In July 1998, a majority in parliament rejected the reform of the penal code, dealing with issues such as libel, offence to authorities and torture. This was a major setback for the new prime minister who had committed the government to heed calls by the CE to comply with Western standards in this field.29 The 1998 EU Commission Regular Report mainly reflected the positive developments. It stated that Romania had crossed the line and started to fulfil the general political criteria (European Commission 1998c). The Commission nevertheless criticized the government’s use of ordinances and placed special emphasis on the reform of the judiciary and the situation of the Roma people. However, ongoing internal instability and a confrontation of the government with the miners from the Jiu valley over the privatization and future of mining in Romania limited progress in the months to come. Only in May 1999 did the Senate finally adopt the emergency Decree 22, thus sanctioning the right of minorities to use their own language in local affairs.30 A corresponding law for the civil service was passed in June of the same year.31 In July, the parliament adopted a revised education law, thus giving education in minority languages and cultural autonomy a stable basis. Altogether, the government improved the general legal situation of the minorities considerably in this year. The remaining shortcomings led the Commission to demand improvement of the situation of the Roma and further reform of the judiciary and other institutions in its Regular Report of 1999 (European Commission 1999c). Yet, it concluded that Romania had crossed the line and fulfilled the general political criteria. Consequently, it recommended beginning accession negotiations

144 International Socialization in Europe

in general but decided to make the opening of negotiations in the individual chapters conditional on progress in the relevant fields, thus extending political conditionality into the membership talks. Nevertheless, PM Vasile lost the support of the majority in parliament in a power struggle within the PNTCD.32 Until the 2000 elections, Mugur Isarescu, the president of the National Bank, became prime minister as an ‘apolitical’ compromise candidate of the coalition partners. He reduced the number of ministers to an executive cabinet of four ministers and himself to speed up internal reforms. The government managed to find support for the new penal code in parliament and also responded to a long-standing Western demand in September 2000 to introduce a law that generally prohibited discrimination on the basis of nationality, race, gender, ethnicity, age, or sexual orientation in line with Romania’s international obligations, and to improve the situation of the Roma people in society and outlaw their discrimination (European Commission 1997c; 1999c). In its Progress Report of 2000, the Commission noted that Romania still conformed to the political criteria and had taken steps to consolidate democracy and the rule of law but pointed out that improvement was needed in all fields to comply fully with Western standards. In most cases, the source of shortcomings was the insufficient translation of legal changes into effective government policies. Among other things, the Commission demanded further improvement in the situation of minorities (particularly the Roma) through financed minority programmes, continued reform of the judiciary, demilitarization of the police, improved democratic decision-making through early consultations in parliament and through refraining from the use of government ordinances. In conclusion, the elections in 1996 resulted in a majority for the democratic forces in the Romanian Parliament and Senate. Thus, the resonance of Western norms among the government coalition became high and the cost of compliance decreased. Yet, the parties had substantial difficulties in agreeing on common policies and, thus, each necessary decision triggered centrifugal tendencies in the coalition. The early will for reform was soon lost in government crisis. A move towards compliance only occurred after the EU Commission had issued its Opinions on the CEECs’ membership applications and the EU and NATO made their recommendations on the opening of accession negotiations in 1997. They significantly increased the credibility of the membership promise, and of the threat to exclude non-compliant candidate countries. From 1997 onwards, compliance with Western demands improved in the fields of democratic reform as well as minority protection at almost the same pace, despite the difference in the legitimacy of rules, although substantial differences in the governing coalition resulted in a stop-and-go process. Whereas it demonstrates the necessity of credible external incentives, this phase is, however, theoretically overdetermined with regard to the domestic explanatory variables.

Romania 145 Table 9.5

Conditions and compliance during the CDR government (1996–2000)

Cases

Incentives Credibility

Legitimacy

Costs

Identification Resonance Compliance

Democratic
(high) reform


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)

(high)

Compliance


(high)


(high)

 (low)


(low)


(high)

(high)

Compliance

Minority protection

Table 9.6 Domestic conditions during the second PDSR (PSD) government (2000–04) Cases

Costs

Identification

Resonance

Democratic reform Minority protection


(low)
(low)


(high)
(high)

 (reduced)  (reduced)

2000–03 Domestic conditions The upcoming elections of the year 2000 again produced much international attention.33 The ruling democratic parties, lacking a major government success story of clear-cut social and economic reform, concentrated on the PDSR and Iliescu’s record in the election campaign, trying to stir up fears about the return of post-Communist authoritarianism and trying to gain public support to EU-integration. However, neither of these two issues seemed to be of any importance to the electorate. The elections were again a vote of protest against the ruling government, which was unable to steer Romania out of recession, and combat unemployment as well as the worsening social situation. The elections resulted in a sharp increase of votes for nationalist parties, in particular the extreme nationalist PRM and its leader Tudor. At the same time, support for the PDSR and Iliescu increased again. The PDSR became the strongest party in both houses (45 per cent in Parliament, 46 per cent in the Senate) but remained without a coalition partner. The liberal forces of Romania came out weak and Tudor’s PRM sought to lead Romania into isolation from the West. The presidential elections looked very much the same. The CDR broke apart during the election campaign and thus failed to present a common candidate for President.34 In the absence of a candidate from the democratic spectrum, people had a choice between Iliescu and Tudor. Finally, the majority opted for the ‘lesser of two evils’ and voted Iliescu into the presidential office in the second round.35 Subsequently, the PDSR established a minority government, seeking support for its policies from the democratic spectrum. The HDUR, representing

146 International Socialization in Europe

the Hungarian minority that had been repressed under the first Iliescu presidency, surprisingly agreed to support the PDSR. In essence, the party mainly wanted to prevent the PDSR from relying on the support of the right-wing nationalist PRM and secure a more accommodating minority policy from the government. In 2001, the Humanist Party agreed upon closer cooperation with the PDSR, while the search for compromises with the opposition, and particularly the Hungarian Democratic Party HDUR, also continued. During the election campaign the PDSR and Iliescu had presented themselves as a party reformed during its time in opposition, ready to lead Romania into a brighter future, to continue with reforms and become a member of the EU. The identification of the PDSR with the European international community was therefore high again (Gabanyi 2001: 6). The PDSR party leadership had managed to reorganize the party around its leadership and strengthen party discipline (Pop-Eleches 2001: 162). Hence, the resonance of Western norms among the majority of the party stayed more or less unchanged, even though a new moderate wing in the PDSR had emerged during the opposition years. This wing was less critical about democracy and liberal market economy (Pop-Eleches 2001: 162). Besides, in February 2001, the new government was accused of patronizing former Securitate agents by placing them in high positions, which made clear that it still moved to some extent on old tracks.36 There is little doubt that with regard to the conservatives in the PDSR, the new party line was much more a reaction to the constraints of political reality than it was the result of a genuine change of mind. For example, the party programme still pointed out the unitary character of Romania and announced that the party was only willing to grant such rights to minorities that did not undermine national unity (Néve 2001: 295–7). In the years 2000 and 2001, President Iliescu made a number of statements that contained harsh criticism of international institutions, and the EU in particular. In February 2001, President Iliescu called private property ‘nonsense’, showing how little he had internalized Western norms and values.37 Since the government was recruited mainly from the reform wing, there was potential for conflict over reform within the party. In June 2001, the reform wing of the PDSR managed a merger of the PDSR with the smaller Romanian Social Democratic Party in order to form the new Social Democratic Party (PSD). The PDSR clearly hoped to improve the image of the party by renaming it and becoming a member of the Socialist International, of which the smaller party had already been a member. Altogether, one may argue that the resonance of liberal democratic norms was more or less neutral for the leading politicians in the government and still low for many PDSR/ PSD members of parliament and President Iliescu. Hence, we may describe the resonance of the ruling elite as reduced. Concerning costs, internal conditions had changed for the PDSR during its time in opposition. First, the loss of power for the PDSR in 1996, as already argued, triggered a shift of party affiliation and thus changed the power base.

Romania 147

Second, the democratic and economic reform process after 1996 led parts of the power base to reassess the costs and benefits of further resistance against the process, shifting their practice away from obstruction and towards accommodation, shaping and fathoming out the potentials of the new system. Third, the election of 2000 showed that the PDSR was able to come to power and stay in power without the need for repressive policies. Fourth, the PDSR decided to govern alone, thus the party needed only one or two smaller partners in parliament on a case-to-case basis to pass legislation successfully. This reduced the costs of compliance compared with the earlier period in government when the party was dependent on nationalist coalition partners. Concerning minorities, the reforms were already in place and had not reduced the chances of re-election for the PDSR. In addition, the costs of compliance were lower for the PDSR because the party decided to exclude the right-wing nationalist PRM from government. Furthermore, the party opted for support from the Hungarian Democratic Party instead. Overall, the internal costs of non-compliance were growing on both issues, while the costs of compliance fell. The overall domestic costs of compliance were therefore rather low. Process and outcome Shortly after the beginning of his term in office, PM Nastase visited the EU Commission in Brussels at the end of January 2001, to seek support for the new reform programme to which the government had committed itself. Romania was close to bankruptcy after four years of continued recession. To proceed with reforms, PM Nastase needed the support of the European Commission to convince the IMF and the World Bank to unfreeze credits in the negotiations of February 2001. Romano Prodi signalled support but demanded additional reform efforts, thus making his support conditional on clear signals from Romania (Gabanyi 2001: 7). At the end of February, Günter Verheugen bluntly told Nastase, that the time for ‘after-dinner speeches’ was over, that programmes and verbal commitments were not enough any more. Moreover, the World Bank made its credits worth 1.3 billion USD conditional on intensified efforts.38 In April, Verheugen stated in a speech before parliament that reform was needed now to convince the Union of the seriousness of Romania’s application for membership – putting special emphasis on the discrimination issue (the Roma in particular) and the reform of the judiciary. Since the Minister of Justice was accused of applying pressure on judges in restitution cases, Verheugen asked Prime Minister Nastase to give assurance that the judiciary remained independent.39 Overall behaviour indicated that the PDSR had changed towards a pragmatic political course, accepting international obligations and the course set for European integration (Gabanyi 2001: 6). President Iliescu and the government under PM Nastase continued on the path towards reform and the progress previously achieved was not dismantled. The new government

148 International Socialization in Europe

remained stable and political turmoil in the country decreased.40 Interestingly enough, the difference between reformers and hardliners in the PDSR did not matter for the overall reform process. The government survived a vote of non-confidence and was also receiving support from former government officials such as former Prime Minister Isarescu.41 Trade Unions negotiated with the government and agreed upon maintaining a moderate policy to some extent.42 Finally, the public support for EU membership remained stable above the 70 per cent level (Juchler 2002: 924). Regarding the minority issue, parliament even passed a law on local selfrule, that had been promised to the HDUR in return for support of the reform program and also fulfilled obligations that resulted from the CE Framework Convention on National Minorities (Gabanyi 2001: 7). In 2001, the EU welcomed these developments but demanded more decentralization as well as the implementation of all legal improvements.43 At the summit at Laeken (December 2001), however, the European leaders removed Romania from the list of potential candidate countries likely to join the Union in 2004, because Romania was still ill-prepared to cope with the obligations of membership.44 This setback did not result in a change of political course. In March 2002, the government started to tackle the problem of right-wing extremist groups by banning racist and fascist organizations in order to stabilize the political spectrum and to add more security to the social situation of minorities.45 The Regular Report in 2002 concluded that Romania had made progress towards all political issues and demanded that additional efforts should be made on the implementation of all reforms, and in particular on safeguarding the freedom of expression (European Commission 2002d). In October 2003, Romania took a further important step, when the government managed to pass a major revision of the 1991 constitution that was adopted after a referendum and was necessary to reform the parliamentary as well as the judicial systems, and to translate the provisions of the ECHR into Romanian law.46 Even President Iliescu and the conservatives in the PDSR supported the amendment.47 Moreover, an initiative for administrative reform started, the court system was revised, and police reform began. Still, the effective implementation of policies and legislation changes into practice continued to be a major obstacle. The same applied to the implementation of various minority programmes. Hence, the EU accession partnership from 2003 concluded that Romania needed to focus on the implementation of reforms and that a considerable amount of work needed to be done in implementing changes in the area of the political criteria (European Commission 2003b). To increase reform efficiency, the government changed its structure in March 2004. A Public Policy Unit was set up, to strengthen the government’s capacity to formulate, implement and monitor the policy changes. In various spheres, the government then continued the implementation of reform. To address the problems of local self-rule, the government adopted a strategy for decentralization and launched a public administration reform strategy in

Romania 149 Table 9.7

Cases

Conditions and compliance in Romania (2000–04)

Incentives Credibility

Legitimacy

Costs

Identification Resonance Compliance

Democratic
(high) reform


(high)


(high)


(low)
(high)  (reduced) Compliance


(high)


(high)

 (low)


(low)
(high)  (reduced) Compliance

Minority protection

May 2004. In addition, a law was adopted that restricts the use of emergency ordinances considerably and will bind future governments to seek the support of parliament, except in clearly defined extraordinary circumstances. The EU Commission now found that the protection measures for national minorities, especially the Roma, were implemented satisfactorily. Altogether, the EU Commission concluded in its 2004 Regular Report that Romania still needed to increase implementation efforts in the area of the political criteria (European Commission 2004b). In sum, the elections of the year 2000 resulted in a return of the PDSR and President Iliescu to power. Whereas identification with Europe remained high, rule resonance still varied in the new government and its parliamentary supporters. It is interesting, however, that this variation did not seem to matter for compliance. The power costs of compliance were low for the new government, while EU and NATO membership were within close reach. Nastase, Iliescu and the PDSR therefore chose to accept and continue the reforms introduced by the previous government. Romania was admitted to NATO in 2004 and is on track to join the EU in 2007.

Results In the Romanian case, we followed the effects of domestic and external conditions of compliance in three major phases. Romania did not comply with the political criteria during the first phase, started to comply during the second phase and continued to complete compliance in the third phase. With regard to the external conditions, the process clearly confirms rationalist expectations about the pivotal role of credible external incentives: the movement toward compliance coincided with the establishment of credible EU and NATO membership conditionality for Romania. Differences in legitimacy played no role. As for the domestic conditions, the shift from noncompliance to compliance was theoretically overdetermined: both resonance and domestic costs turned positive. More telling is the shift from the second to the third stage. The return of the formerly authoritarian political forces to power in 2000, which did not happen in Slovakia, did not result in a return

150 International Socialization in Europe

to non-compliance despite mixed resonance. Thus, the case study confirms our core hypothesis. Again, it seems that compliance mainly depends on calculations of domestic costs, credible conditionality and sufficiently high material incentives being on offer. Additionally, we may argue that identification is not a sufficient factor for compliance, because a higher level of identification evolving during the first phase only resulted in a change of rhetoric accompanied by minor concessions – apparently to display publicly a higher sensitivity for western concerns.

Notes 1 SZ, 15 November 1994. 2 In particular from November 1994 to February 1995 (compare NYT, 26 November 1994; SZ, 11 February 1995). 3 The report is available at the homepage of the United Nations online network in public administration, see: http://unpan1.un.org/intradoc/groups/public/documents/NISPAcee/UNPAN008411.pdf (17 February 2006). 4 SZ, 24 May 1995. 5 Letter from OSCE HCNM, 9 September 1993 to FM Melescanu. 6 Opinion of the parliamentary assembly of the Council of Europe (no.176). 7 AE 5002, 24 April 1989; AE 5159, 22 December 1989; AE 5278, 20 June 1990. 8 In January 1994, the PDSR’s share of votes in polls went down to 16.7 per cent; cf. Gabanyi (1998: 260). 9 SZ, 22 December 1994; SZ, 16 January 1995. 10 RFE/RL Newsline, 13 March 95. 11 SZ, 20 July 1995. 12 RFE/RL Newsline, 31 March 1994; SZ, 20/21 May 1995; SZ, 25 August 1995; SZ, 19 September 1995. 13 RFE/RL Newsline, 19 July 1995. 14 SZ, 21 October 1995. 15 SZ, 17 September 1996. 16 Agence France Press, 2 September 1996. 17 Romania rejected Recommendation 1201, because it feared that accepting it could lead to unilateral secession and because the recommendation referred to collective minority rights rather than individual rights. Article 11 of the CE Recommendation 1201 does call for ‘local or autonomous authorities or a special status’ for minorities. 18 SZ, 3 September 1996. 19 SZ, 9 November 1995; SZ, 29 November 1995. 20 RFE Newsline, 13 March 1995; RFE/RL Newsline, 19 July 1995. 21 As a strongly regionally based party, the HDUR was not able to account for sufficient members in the necessary number of counties to be recognized as a party (Néve 1997: 231–2). Subsequently, the HDUR lost the financial support of the state. This move disadvantaged the HDUR. In the end the HDUR found a loophole via membership in the Democratic Council of Romania (CDR), allowing the party to participate in the elections. 22 SZ, 15 November 1994; SZ, 9 November 1995; SZ, 29 November 1995. 23 SZ, 10 December 1996. 24 SZ, 27 November 1996; FAZ, 19 February 1997; RFE/RL Newsline, 23 May 1997. 25 RFE/RL Newsline, 11 April 1997.

Romania 151 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

RFE/RL Newsline; 27 October 1997; SZ, 26 November 1997. RFE/RL Newsline, 6 May 1998. RFE/RL Newsline, 2 April 1998. RFE/RL Newsline, 21 April 1998. RFE/RL Newsline, 26 May 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 30 June 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 14 December 1999. SZ, 8 June 2000; SZ, 15 November 2000; SZ, 25/26 November 2000. RFE/RL East European Perspective, 5: 17, 2003 FAZ, 9 December 2000. SZ, 22 March 2001. FAZ, 26 March 2001. FAZ, 26 February 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 27 April 2001. NYT, 4 February 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 4 May 2001. NYT, 4 February 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 4 May 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 19 December 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 22 March 2002. World News Connection, 1 September 2003; European Report, 14 February 2004. BBC Monitoring, 2 September 2003.

10 Estonia

Introduction In contrast with most of the other cases, the general credentials of Estonia as a prime candidate for membership were rarely questioned during the 1990s. After independence in August 1991, Estonia soon adopted the general features of a stable Western democracy, including formal democratic processes, the rule of law and a functioning market economy. In the issue-area of minority rights, however, Estonia proved reluctant to comply with those standards that would protect and empower the Russian-speaking minority in the country. In particular, Estonia’s citizenship and language policies met international criticism. This case study is interesting, first, because constructivist approaches emphasizing identification generally would expect early compliance. Second, and together with the Latvian case, Estonia offers a good opportunity to distinguish between the effects of different strategies of international socialization. In addition to the political membership conditionality of the EU, the OSCE and the CE have tried to influence Estonian policy by persuasion and social influence. Hence, the case study allows us to control for such international effects on domestic politics.

Conflict and norm violation Before it was annexed by the Soviet Union during World War II, Estonia was a fairly homogenous society with only a small number of ethnic minorities. Then, Soviet security forces deprived the Estonian society of its intellectual and political elite by killing thousands and deporting many more to Siberia, in order to ensure control over the country (Chinn and Kaiser 1996: 96–7). For the same reason, Moscow pushed large-scale immigration of Russian-speaking ethnic groups (mainly Russians, Belarusians, and Ukrainians). The immigrants came to live in isolated districts placed mainly in the north-eastern cities of the Ida-Virumaa region and on the outskirts of Tallinn, the capital. In the cities of Narva and Sillamäe, the immigrants became the overwhelming 152

Estonia 153

majority; in Tallinn, they accounted for 60 per cent of the population. Two separate communities developed, with the Russian-speaking community dominating public, political, and cultural life. Estonians were expected to learn Russian and to adapt to the Soviet vision of society and Russian culture. By 1989, the share of Estonians had dropped to 62 per cent of the 1.5 million inhabitants (Sarv 2002: 12; Taagepera 1993: 219). On the brink of independence in 1991, the leadership of Estonia had to decide about its policy toward the 520,000 Russian-speaking inhabitants (Sarv 2002: 65). The question was whether the developments of the Soviet period should be accepted and the ‘orphaned Slavs’ (Visek 1997: 315), citizens of the Soviet state that was about to cease to exist, should stay in Estonia, become citizens and participate politically. The activists of the Popular Front, dominated by reformed Communists, favoured this idea under the header ‘Zero Option’. However, public opinion and the Congress Movement, dominated by conservative dissidents and citizens of the interwar republic, turned against it. They argued that independence should lead to the re-emergence of the independent historic republic that never had ceased to exist under international law. Only citizens of this republic and their descendants should therefore automatically count as citizens and have access to political rights. To most Estonians, this seemed to be the prime and legitimate measure to undo and compensate for the results of Soviet-Russian oppression (Pettai 2001a: 264). Thus, the Supreme Council passed a restrictive citizenship law in February 1992 (Smith 2001: 72–4). Its provisions divided society into those descending from citizens of the historical republic (mainly, but not exclusively, ethnic Estonians) and those who did not. When the Soviet Union ceased to exist, the law left almost 40 per cent of the population stateless and without basic political rights (Birckenbach 1997: 21; Sarv 2002: 65). International organizations also took the illegal annexation of the country and the Estonian right of self-determination into account and did not demand immediate citizenship for all inhabitants. Rather, their assessment depended on the steps Estonia would take to reduce statelessness in accordance with international law. The naturalization provisions of the 1992 citizenship law required a threeyear waiting period, an oath of loyalty to Estonia, and the passing of a language test. These requirements seemed to be very liberal at first glance. However, the provisions of the language test remained unclear, giving the authorities much discretion to introduce high standards that could constitute a hidden but effective barrier against naturalization. Moreover, the legislation followed the principle of ius sanguinis (principle of bloodline) rather than that of ius soli (principle of territory). Children born in Estonia to stateless parents were therefore deprived of their right to nationality entailed in the international convention on the protection of the child, which Estonia had accepted on independence.1 As a second strategy, the new leadership of the country decided to do something against the dominance of the Russian language. Estonian was made

154 International Socialization in Europe

the only official language in 1995. Subsequent governments passed laws that introduced language requirements for candidates in local and national elections (in the election law) and established a set of rules that asked for a sufficient command of Estonian when conducting professional and private sector activities. Through these measures, the Estonian government de facto built up language barriers in society, because the Russian-speaking minority had no or little command of Estonian (Kirch and Kirch 1992: 101). The overall policy ran counter to basic international non-discrimination norms, which the country had signed on independence in return for international recognition. It also conflicted with international norms for minority protection, which Estonia had avoided signing.

International demands and conditions The OSCE and the CE soon reacted to the restrictive policy measures of the Estonian government, whereas the EU took longer to become an active player and then mainly aligned itself with the demands put forward by the two other organizations. CSCE involvement mainly resulted from Russia’s request, in March 1992, to deal with the unresolved human rights abuses and the discrimination against Russians in the country (Birckenbach 1997: 22). The organization did so under its new diplomatic early warning and crisis prevention mechanisms (Pettai 2001a: 266, Sarv 2002: 27–9). In July 1992, the new post of High Commissioner on National Minorities (HCNM) was assigned to the former Dutch Foreign Minister, Max van der Stoel, who soon assumed a leading role in influencing Estonian policy-makers (Pettai 1993: 13). Without any major material rewards to offer, the HCNM mainly relied on a mixture of expert advice and social influence – working behind closed doors and favouring impartiality (Polenshchuk 2001: 15–16; Zaagman 1999a: 10–11). Max van der Stoel frequently visited Estonia and held discussions with Estonian politicians, issued recommendations and wrote detailed letters to the Estonian government (Zaagman 1999a: 11). In addition, the CSCE opened a mission in Estonia in 1993. Its staff began to monitor development and to provide legal expertise (Sarv 2002: 29). The OSCE aimed at a reduction of stateless people in the country, in accordance with the corresponding international convention. Once the Estonian government introduced its controversial language regulations, Max van der Stoel stated that the laws trenched on the rights of individuals more than permitted by international standards. He therefore recommended abolishing all controversial aspects (Sarv 2002: 95). The CE started to review Estonia’s legislation after the country had asked for membership in September 1992 and set changes to the citizenship law as a condition for membership in 1993. Later, the Parliamentary Assembly of the CE monitored Estonian policy. When Estonia introduced the controversial language laws in 1995–96, the CE in particular opposed the language requirements for candidates in elections and the language provisions for private sector

Estonia 155

activities. Exactly as in the case of the OSCE, the reward offered by the Council in return for compliance was mainly an enhanced social status. In sum, the international incentives on offer in return for compliance remained low, according to our categorization, at the beginning of the 1990s. By contrast, the EU did not develop minority protection rules on its own but mainly referred to the rules and demands of the CE and the OSCE. Already, the Cooperation agreement with Estonia, signed soon after independence, entailed a general reference to human rights and minority protection standards. In line with its general policy, the EU further used accession conditionality once respect for minority rights became part of the Copenhagen criteria of June 1993. While the material incentives generally increased with the EU membership perspective, accession conditionality did not automatically become credible for Estonia. The promise of membership only became credible when the member states indicated that they regarded Estonia as one of the prime candidates for membership after the Association Agreement was signed in 1995. At the time, however, it was entirely uncertain whether the EU would really insist on a more liberal Estonian approach toward the Russian-speaking minority and withhold membership in the event of noncompliance. The threat of exclusion only became credible in 1997 when the European Commission worked out more precise and country-specific accession criteria in its Opinion on Estonia’s application for membership. In particular, the fact that the European Council in Luxemburg rejected beginning accession negotiations with Latvia, also sent a clear signal to Estonia that minority issues were taken seriously. The credibility of the threat increased even further once the EU Commission began to constantly monitor development through its Regular Reports, echoed the demands of other regional organizations and was strongly supported by individual EU member states in its conditionality. As to legitimacy, basic human rights, political rights, non-discrimination norms and the protection of (stateless) children possessed a high level of international legitimacy, whereas it was low for international demands to reduce statelessness. First, international political rights provided only a weak basis for Western demands posted in the statelessness case. The Western community had always upheld the argument that the Baltic countries had been occupied illegally by the Soviet Union during World War II. Therefore, the Table 10.1 External incentives in the international socialization of Estonia

1991–95 1993–97 1997–

Incentives

Credibility

 (low)
(high)
(high)


(high)  (low)
(high)

156 International Socialization in Europe Table 10.2

Legitimacy of international demands on Estonia

Cases

Legitimacy

Non-discrimination and political rights (language law and requirements) Reduction of statelessness (citizenship law) Rights of the child (stateless children)


(high)  (low)
(high)

international provisions on state secession, which demand newly seceding territories to grant citizenship and equal political rights to all residents, could not be applied (as was done in the case of those former Soviet Republics that became independent for the first time in 1991). Thus, only the Convention on the Reduction of Statelessness was applicable, which demanded that states reduce statelessness on their territory by granting citizenship in a simplified process. This convention, however, was not accepted unanimously in Europe.2 Many European countries limited access to citizenship (and, thus, full political rights) and defined restrictive naturalization requirements. Hence, rule legitimacy was low in the sub-case of statelessness. By contrast, the international Convention on the Protection of the Child, which entailed the right of a child to nationality and thus demanded the granting of citizenship to children that would otherwise be stateless, was accepted by all EU members. Thus, the legitimacy of international rules was high in the sub-case of citizenship for stateless children. Finally, the general language law discriminated against those who did not speak Estonian (sufficiently well), and the election law set discriminating standards for candidates in elections, infringing on the political rights of the candidates and the electorate. Thus, the language policy violated highly legitimate non-discrimination norms and political rights that belonged to the core community norms, which all member states of the EU had accepted and several important European treaties referred to.

Domestic conditions Already in Estonia’s provisional parliament, most factions strongly identified themselves with the West, favoured the introduction of a Western democratic system and wanted to see an independent Estonia ‘return to Europe’. After independence, all governments and all presidents of Estonia emphasized the nexus between Estonia’s identity, its commitment to the West and the integration of Estonia into the Western organizations. Estonian policymakers continuously emphasized that the Estonian identity – with its own legal and administrative system, language and religion – dated from the thirteenth century and was shaped by the Western culture of the Hanseatic League (Feldman

Estonia 157

2001: 10, Merritt 2000: 248). President Meri considered the border to Russia to be the border of European values, and the majority of Estonian politicians viewed themselves to be at the frontier of Western civilization, fighting for the right of Estonia to belong to it (Feldman 2001: 10–11). Thus, identification with the West was high throughout the 1990s, with all political parties and groupings that were to hold executive power in the country aspiring to belong to the Western community. With regard to the resonance of Western norms, the conditions for compliance looked favourable at first sight, too. All main political forces committed themselves to the introduction of democracy, the rule of law, and the introduction of market economy (Bedraff and Schürmann 1998: 95; Feldman 2000: 415; Järve 1995: 24–6; Smith et al. 1998: 108–9). However, their stance on minority was less shaped by this broad liberal-democratic consensus than by the historical experience of Soviet foreign rule and the long-standing drive for independence. Rule resonance thus mainly depended, and varied with, the more or less exclusive nature of the nationalist orientations of the major political parties. The Fatherland Party (FP) and the Estonian National Independence Party (ENIP), which later merged into Pro Patria (PP), were conservative-democratic parties with quite a strong ethno-nationalist agenda. While these parties never followed the extreme viewpoints of the Estonian Citizen Party or the Right Wingers, they still put the main political emphasis on the survival of the Estonian nation, the need for a clear dominance of the Estonians in the country, and the assimilation of Russian settlers (Smith 2001: 70, 73, 77). In the case of Pro Patria, resonance can thus be categorized as ‘reduced’, whereas it was low for the Estonian Citizen Party and the Right Wingers. Parties belonging to the liberal and left-leaning post-Communist spectrum, such as the Centre Party (CP) and the Coalition Party (COP), put more emphasis on the equality of all inhabitants of Estonia. In particular the Centre Party, the party of Edgar Savisaar, the first prime minister after independence, stressed that independence should be based on the realities of the development during Soviet times and advocated the ‘zero option’ (Smith 2001: 73). In addition, two parties of the Russian minority emerged: Our Home is Estonia (HE) and Russian Party in Estonia (RP). These were less committed to Estonian nationalism, of course, and tried to defend the interests of the Russianspeaking minority. Thus, resonance was high for all of these parties. In general, the social-democratic Moderates and the pro-market Reform Party stood between the two camps. Both parties started from the assumption of the continuity of the historic Estonian republic and its citizenship, defined by ethnic descent. Even though they did not use strongly ethno-nationalistic rhetoric, they clearly gave preference to the interests of the titular nation. However, both parties had different wings, with the more conservative representatives attaching more weight to Estonian nationalist positions. Hence, the resonance of norms securing equal treatment for the Russian-speaking minority was reduced. Partly for this reason, both parties have avoided clear

158 International Socialization in Europe Table 10.3

Resonance and identification in Estonia Coalition

Resonance

October 1992–March 1995

Pro Patria National Independence Party Moderates

 (reduced)

April 1995–October 1995

Coalition Party (incl. Rural Union) Centre Party


(high)

November 1995–February 1997

Coalition party (incl. Rural Union) Reform Party


(high)

March 1997–March 1999

Coalition Party Rural Union Party


(high)

March 1999–January 2002

Pro Patria Reform Party Moderates

 (reduced)

Identification


(high)

positions on minority issues, tended to be opportunistic, and supported the position of their coalition partners (Semjonov 2000: 11). The first national elections in 1992 brought about a clear victory of the conservative forces. In the coalition between the Fatherland Party, the National Independence Party and the Moderates, the resonance of minority protection rules was clearly reduced. After a campaign that was dominated by arguments about the economic and social consequences of transformation, the national election in spring 1995 led to a shift of power in parliament. Subsequently, the Coalition Party led a number of centre-left and less nationalistic governments – and, thus, high resonance – under Prime Ministers Tiit Vahi and Mart Siiman. The national election in 1999 resulted again in a majority for a centre-right coalition between Pro Patria, the Moderates and the Reform Party. At the beginning of the 1990s, the domestic costs of compliance were very high on the citizenship issue. Allowing the Russian-speaking minority to become citizens of Estonia and to participate politically was perceived as dangerous for independence by the ruling Estonian elite. The Russian-speaking settlers were regarded as the fifth column of Russia in Estonia. Demonstrations against independence and in favour of a ‘Baltic Russia’ reinforced this perception (Sarv 2002: 25). The 1992 national elections also showed that the overall majority of the ethnically non-Estonian citizens voted along the ethnic cleavage and for left-wing parties, some of which sought to reunite with Russia or reintroduce communism in Estonia (Smith 2001: 93). The ruling Estonian parties thus feared that liberalization of the citizenship laws risked not only decreasing their own share of the popular vote but also increasing the power of parties that were highly critical of Estonia’s Western aspirations and democracy. These

Estonia 159 Table 10.4

Domestic costs of compliance in Estonia

Cases

Initial costs

Statelessness Language laws Stateless children

  (very high)  (high)
(low)

fears were strengthened when the Russian minority decided to hold referenda for autonomy in the north-eastern districts during the ‘Alien Crisis’ in the summer of 1993.3 Moreover, the Russian government came to consider Estonia (and Latvia) as part of the ‘Near Abroad’, its post-Soviet geopolitical sphere of influence (Birckenbach 1995: 26).4 This evoked uncomfortable memories of summer 1940, when Estonia was overrun by the Soviet military (Smith 2001: 74). What is more, parties that decided in favour of a liberal citizenship policy would have committed political suicide because the electorate was strongly opposed to liberalization (Semjonov 2000: 13) – a fact that was exemplified in the poor results for the Centre Party in the first national elections (Smith 2001: 82). Since the Estonian language and culture had been under pressure during Soviet occupation, the policy towards the Russian-speaking minority was also a question of cultural revival. Accepting a liberal approach ran counter to the aim of reviving the Estonian language, which was seen as the major integrating force of the nation. Conservatives argued that naturalized ‘Russian speakers’ would insist on the introduction of Russian as a second official language, thereby prolonging the situation that had emerged during Soviet occupation (Smith 2001: 73; Stepan 1994: 134, 136). The political costs of reducing statelessness only began to decrease in the second half of the decade. By contrast, in the case of stateless children political costs were rather low almost right from the beginning, because the number of children born after independence that would be entitled to automatic citizenship was small (not exceeding a couple of thousands) and their ability to affect politics in the next two decades was obviously negligible. Between 1997 and 1999, however, the costs of compliance increased again when Mart Siiman’s minority government needed the support of the nationalists in parliament who rejected liberalization. With regard to language issues, the power costs of compliance remained high throughout the decade. Because most ethnic Estonians, as with many Estonian deputies, were unwilling to compromise over the protection and enforcement of Estonian as the official language, compliance threatened to result in a decline of electoral and public support. When it became clear after 1993/94 that the majority of the Russian-speaking population would not leave the country, Estonians feared that the Russian language would remain important in all of Estonia and continue to dominate public and private life in the north-eastern

160 International Socialization in Europe

region.5 Despite the fact that the prominence of the citizenship question declined slowly, the public was quite susceptible to nationalist rhetoric regarding the language issue. The governments thus needed to avoid the impression of selling out this prime national interest.

Process and outcome 1991–95 After independence, the conservative Estonian government under Prime Minister Mart Laar aimed to secure independence and to dismantle the Soviet and Russian structures in place in state and society, in which the acceptance of an autonomous Estonia by Russia and the Russian-speaking minority was still in doubt. In this context, the policy towards the Russian-speaking minority was fundamentally connected with the reassertion and survival of the Estonian nation and statehood (Barrington 1999: 187–9). Western demands for equal treatment and enhanced participation were seen as impeding these goals. As Tiit Kabin, member of the parliament committee on legal issues and of the ad hoc commission on citizenship, put it, ‘the smaller a nation is, the more it needs to protect itself, and the tougher its naturalization rules should be’.6 Thus, except for the issue of the stateless children, the combination of low resonance and high costs created unfavourable domestic conditions for compliance. In addition, the EU remained more or less silent, and left it to the CSCE and the CE to influence the Estonian government on the citizenship issue. The CSCE started its efforts in December 1992, when a fact-finding mission visited the country. Subsequently, the HCNM Max van der Stoel visited in January 1993 and tried to convince the government to liberalize its policy.7 In April 1993, he issued his first written recommendation.8 In general, the HCNM did not take issue with Estonia’s general decision for naturalization instead of the so-called ‘zero option’ but demanded that the number of stateless

Table 10.5

Cases

Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1991–95)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identification

Resonance Compliance

Statelessness  (low) 1991–93


(high)

 (low)

  (very
(high)  (reduced) Nonhigh) compliance

Statelessness
(high) 1993–95

 (low)

 (low)

  (very
(high)  (reduced) Nonhigh) compliance

Stateless children 1991–93

 (low)


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)  (reduced) Noncompliance

Stateless children 1993–95


(high)

 (low)


(high)


(low)


(high)  (reduced) Noncompliance

Estonia 161

people be reduced.9 He insisted that the naturalization process and its requirements should be as liberal as possible, suggested a review of the laws with regard to their compatibility with legal standards, and enhancing the chances of non-Estonians to acquire a reasonable command of the Estonian language through language teaching. Referring to the stateless children, he demanded that ‘Children born in Estonia who would otherwise become stateless should be granted Estonian citizenship’.10 Once Estonia had applied for CE membership in September 1992, a CE delegation led by the chairman of the CE Parliamentary Assembly, Miguel Ángel Martinez, argued in favour of broadening the rights of the Russian-speaking minority (Pettai 1993: 14). CE experts visiting the country in February 1993 said that specific provisions of the citizenship laws did not match the European standards, represented an exclusionary policy, and should be amended. One provision the organization criticized as a particularly strong violation of its standards was, in fact, that the law allowed citizenship only to be passed on along the paternal line of descent and thus discriminated against women (Smith 2001: 86). The experts also demanded special clauses for elderly and disabled people as well as a reduction of the naturalization fee. They criticized the lack of exact specifications of the language exam and recommended a level of proficiency that would not be over-demanding (Geistlinger and Kirch 1995: 107). Initially, the Estonian government rejected the international criticism. Prime Minister Mart Laar argued that the Estonian citizenship policy was among the most liberal ones on the continent (Hanneman 1995: 511; Smith et al. 1998: 109). Soon, however, the CE made clear that if Estonia aimed for membership in the organization, it needed to fill in the blanks and make the demanded corrections (Pettai 1993: 14). Subsequently, the government presented draft amendments and the parliament passed a law on the reduction of requirements for elderly and disabled people in February 1993, passed concrete language requirements in March, and accepted an amendment that recognized Estonian citizenship along the maternal line of descent (Barrington 1999: 178–9; Smith 2001: 86).11 However, most of the amendments did not improve the chances of the majority of non-Estonians to gain citizenship. Given their weak command of Estonian, the restrictive language requirements constituted an effective barrier (Kirch and Kirch 1992: 101). About 450,000 people would still have remained stateless after the changes (Barrington 1999: 179). The Estonian government only decided to comply with those demands that were unavoidable under the most conservative and legalistic interpretation of the CE norms. Despite the obvious shortcomings, Estonia became a member of the CE on the 14 May, with the Council aiming at further progress after Estonian accession to the organization.12 The Russian minority in the north-east mobilized against the status quo after new legislation was introduced that labelled all non-citizens ‘aliens’ and

162 International Socialization in Europe

demanded they register with the new Estonian authorities. Local magistrates in the north-east threatened to hold a referendum on regional autonomy during the summer of 1993 and risked a stand-off with the conservative central government in Tallinn in the so-called ‘Alien Crisis’. However, Western actors, and especially Max van der Stoel, succeeded in defusing the immediate tensions. Once it became clear that the protest could not change overall Estonian policy, mobilization declined and the announced referendum lost its relevance. After the EU had made its general decision to expand to the East, the Estonian government declared its intention to aim at full membership before the end of the decade.13 This commitment, however, did not change the broad lines of Estonian minority policy in the period between 1993 and 1995. The Estonian government reacted reluctantly to the efforts of the HCNM in July 1993 by stating in general terms that Estonia would comply with demands in the near future.14 On the contrary, the government even started to tighten its policy after CE accession. In particular, the conservatives introduced a draft law during the run up to the national elections of early 1995 that added a test on the constitution to the naturalization process and raised the required level of language proficiency to the level of higher education (Thiele 1999: 68). OSCE and CE actors criticized the Estonian draft amendments and tried to persuade the government to choose less restrictive solutions.15 Despite the fact that the negotiations for the Europe Agreement with Estonia had started and could have added material leverage to the demands, the EU again remained silent on the issue.16 When the amendments were passed, Estonian policymakers even claimed that Estonia now fully conformed with European standards,17 although by creating higher hurdles for applications for citizenship, they had just ignored the single most important Western demand (Semjonov 2000: 17).18 In sum, this period shows that social influence and argumentation were unsuccessful under conditions of high domestic power costs and weak resonance. Once the CE had made changes conditional for membership in the organization, the government adopted a more flexible approach but, since the CE did not insist on full compliance before accession, only made tactical concessions. The early period also demonstrates that a tangible reward alone is not a sufficient condition of compliance. Although the EU offered membership in 1993, this offer still lacked credibility. It was not clear whether Estonia stood a chance of being invited to accession negotiations in the foreseeable future, nor did the EU make the first step to membership – the Europe Agreement – conditional on compliance with minority rights and protection. As a consequence, the Estonian government proceeded to introduce and expand its restrictive approach after accession to the CE and the EU’s Copenhagen decision. What is more, the international conditions and efforts present in this phase did not even result in compliance with the low cost demand to grant citizenship automatically to stateless children born in Estonia.

Estonia 163

1995–97 Citizenship issues When the second half of the 1990s began, internal conditions for compliance changed in Estonia in two respects. On the one hand, the national elections in spring 1995 led to a shift of power in parliament. Subsequently, a number of centrist and high resonance governments under Prime Ministers Tiit Vahi and Mart Siiman held executive power up to March 1999. On the other hand, the fears and uncertainties about Estonian statehood started to ease and reduced the power costs of compliance. First, once the immediate tension in the north-east had been peacefully defused and more democratically minded leaders of the minority came to power there, the overall situation calmed down rapidly. Thereafter, the Russianspeaking community turned out to be deeply divided and unable to agree on a strategy (Smith 2001: 89). Moreover, the withdrawal of the Russian troops from Estonia in 1994 strengthened state autonomy and left the Russian minority without a possible ally in the country, and thus reduced the risk of rebellion against independence. Second, the expected and feared surge in citizenship applications did not materialize. The number of new citizens remained at a low level of about 3000 (Barrington 1999: 180). A rising number of people (65,000 up to 1996, and subsequently 100,000) applied for and received Russian citizenship and thus limited the number of possible applicants for Estonian citizenship (Ruus 1998: 32–3). Third, local and national elections showed that the majority of citizens of Russian-speaking descent began to integrate into the political landscape. Many started to change their voting behaviour, abandoning the single-issue ‘Russian’ parties in exchange for left-leaning ‘Estonian’ parties or even liberal parties (Melvin 2000: 154; Smith 2001: 94). Fourth, Estonian voters replaced the priority attached to the issues of political independence with concerns about the socio-economic conditions – a fact that was exemplified by poor results for the extreme nationalist parties in the 1995 elections and a significant loss for conservative parties such as Pro Patria (Bungs 1998: 60; Heidmets 1998: 269–70; Melvin 2000: 147, 15; Smith Table 10.6

Cases

Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1995–97), citizenship issues

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identification

Resonance

Compliance

Statelessness
(high) 1995–97

 (low)

 (low)

 (high)
(high)


(high)

Noncompliance


(high)

 (low)


(high)

 (low)


(high)

Noncompliance

Stateless children 1995–97


(high)

164 International Socialization in Europe

2001: 94).19 Hence, the costs generally decreased but they still remained high because a majority of the Estonian population continued to oppose liberalization and could have been mobilized against a reform-friendly government. Any government that sought re-election had to tread carefully on the citizenship issue. The OSCE’s HCNM continued his efforts during a visit to Tallinn in December 1995.20 He criticized the high hurdles of the naturalization tests and repeated his suggestions in a letter to the Estonian government.21 In addition, the CE started to shame the Estonian government at the beginning of 1996.22 Leading a delegation to Estonia, the chairman of the Subcommittee on Legal Affairs and Human Rights, Rudolf Bindig, stated that ‘we had high expectations of Estonia on its admission to the Council and we have been disappointed … The Council set very strict terms on its admission and it will want to see a continuous process of their fulfilment’.23 Soon thereafter, the CE again applied conditionality by making the closing of its monitoring procedure dependent on compliance.24 The closing of the monitoring procedure was an important objective for the Estonian government in view of the upcoming EU Commission report. The EU Commission followed developments in Estonia closely now and, for the first time, indicated through diplomatic channels that the Commission would rely on the evaluation of the CE and the OSCE in its assessment of whether Estonia fulfilled the Copenhagen political criteria for membership. In spring 1996, EU member governments (in particular France, Germany and the Netherlands) nevertheless indicated that they considered Estonia a prime candidate for membership.25 Hence, the credibility of the membership promise was growing but EU member states did not give clear credibility to the threat of postponing accession negotiations in the event of continued norm violation. The credibility of conditionality therefore remained weak. The Estonian government responded by easing the tests for naturalization somewhat, scrapping the most difficult category of the questions asked in the tests at the beginning of 1997.26 These changes could only partly satisfy the OSCE demands for deeper policy changes. In particular, the HCNM’s demand for an increase in language education and for a general simplification of the tests remained unfulfilled. Language regulations In the case of language regulations, the high domestic costs for the political elite showed no sign of falling. In this case, the domestic power costs rested clearly with the Estonian electorate, which feared a weakening in the position of the Estonian language. Policy makers therefore sought to avoid the impression of selling off a primary national interest. Prime Minister Vahi argued in an address to the parliament: ‘It is extremely dangerous for life inside Estonia and for stability if there are people living in Estonia who do not wish to integrate into local life.’27

Estonia 165 Table 10.7

Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1995–97), language regulations

Cases

Incentives

Language
(high) regulations 1995–97

Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identification

 (low)


(high)
(high)


(high)

 (high)

Resonance Compliance Noncompliance

Once the new government was in power, the parliament amended Estonia’s local election law in spring 1996, demanding that candidates in local elections pass a language test in Estonian in order to prove their ability to speak the official language.28 The HCNM visited Estonia in May and tried to persuade the government not to implement the new language requirements.29 He argued that the amendments violated international civil and political rights provisions, and non-discrimination norms.30 The Estonian government rejected the criticism. Even the opposition in parliament argued that the law was necessary because the local bureaucracy in the north-east resisted conducting affairs in Estonian, apparently because it lacked the necessary proficiency.31 Shortly after the negative reactions from government and parliament, OSCE and CE persuaded the Estonian President Meri to veto the law and to return it to parliament. However, parliament retained the language requirements almost unchanged with 73 out of 100 votes – thirteen more than the ruling coalition had.32 Instead of a language test, parliament now decided to demand that candidates formally declare that they met the standards required. Giving false information would result in losing the candidacy.33 These superficial concessions could not satisfy international organizations. Upholding the language requirements without a formal test and under unclear standards made the situation even worse. It was now entirely in the discretion of the authorities to judge whether the level of proficiency was met. In sum, Western efforts during 1995 to 1997 still fell short of credible membership conditionality. Even though domestic conditions had improved considerably, compliance was not achieved. By contrast, the legitimacy of the rules did not seem to be of any importance, since government behaviour on the citizenship issue (low legitimacy) and the language issue (high legitimacy) did not vary.

1997–99 Citizenship issues In this period, the conservative and nationalist Pro Patria once more gained considerable influence, the governing coalition having turned out to be fragile. After the Reform Party had left the coalition in early 1997, the Coalition Party minority government under Mart Siiman depended on support from

166 International Socialization in Europe Table 10.8

Cases

Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1997–99), citizenship issues

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identification

Resonance Compliance

Statelessness
(high) 1997–99


(high)

 (low)

 (high)


(high)
(high)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)


(high)

 (high)


(high)
(high)

Compliance

Stateless children 1997–99

the nationalists. Both the Reform Party and the Centre Party did not support the minority government, mainly due to political differences on economic and social issues (Smith 2001: 95–9, 103–6). Thus, the ruling Coalition Party was confronted with high power costs (on all issues) because the nationalist opposition was likely to block major concessions on minority policy questions. Unsurprisingly, the new government therefore initially ruled out legal changes altogether and justified this by domestic opposition in parliament.34 In 1997, the stateless children issue gained international attention again, when the OSCE had asked the Estonian government for a report on the implementation of its recommendations. In response to the report, Max van der Stoel repeated his earlier suggestions (Sarv 2002: 88).35 Shortly thereafter, EU Commissioner Hans van den Broek visited Tallinn and put pressure on the government by directly connecting the stateless children issue to the Commission’s Opinion on Estonia’s application due in the summer.36 Subsequently, the HCNM aligned himself with the EU Commissioner.37 However, Mart Nutt of the conservative opposition (Pro Patria) reiterated the opposition of his party and stated that automatic citizenship would be counter-productive since it removed an important incentive for the children to integrate and learn the language.38 In its Opinion, the Commission took up the concerns of the OSCE and stipulated that compliance was a necessary prerequisite for membership. On the whole, however, it judged Estonia to fulfil the political criteria overall. In essence, the Commission insisted on a better integration of the Russianspeaking population into society, put special emphasis on the naturalization of stateless children born in Estonia as well as on enhanced language training and a general acceleration of naturalization (European Commission 1997a). After this more or less positive judgement, the Estonian government clearly perceived membership to be a credible offer. PM Simian said before the parliament: ‘We have just got a very good acknowledgement and we know we have to do everything possible to go through the negotiations and get into the real accession process.’39 Starting from this tangible membership perspective and with the forthcoming official decision of the Luxembourg Council (December 1997) in mind, the government began to change course in order to lower the risk of a negative EU decision. In November 1997, parliament passed an amendment to the education law, introducing the positions of state

Estonia 167

language teachers. In December 1997, shortly before the EU summit, PM Siiman announced further steps for government measures to speed up integration.40 One day later, the government introduced a draft law to parliament, which would allow stateless children born in Estonia after February 1992 to become citizens automatically. EU and OSCE reacted with encouraging statements, and the Luxembourg summit took the desired decision to start membership negotiations with Estonia.41 The nationalist parties, however, continued to obstruct government proposals at the beginning of 1998. It seemed that the smooth progress at the EU summit in Luxembourg caused them to believe that it would be possible to gain EU membership without matching words with deeds. Thus, they sought to retain language requirements for children to control their ability to integrate.42 In March 1998, shortly before the beginning of accession negotiations in April, the EU still needed to demand progress.43 Only then did the government strengthen its implementation efforts and established a foundation for the integration of minorities with special emphasis on language training (Akalev 2001: 24; Melvin 2000: 150; Thiele 2002: 742).44 The Commission criticized the Estonian approach again in its Regular Report in autumn 1998 (European Commission 1998a). In addition, EU member countries now gave clear credibility to the demands of the Commission. Inter alia, British Foreign Minister Robin Cook, representing the EU presidency, demanded changes in the name of the EU, putting special emphasis on the issue of stateless children. He even argued that the long-term costs for Estonia were low in this case.45 Subsequently, the issue also gained internal support. President Meri urged the parliament to adopt the ‘most important legislative act’ of the year.46 As the least costly option in this situation, compliance on the stateless children issue became more and more the concession of choice. After heated debate in parliament, the citizenship law was amended in December 1998, providing for the simplified naturalization of stateless children.47 These changes, however, still fell short of the EU Commission’s expectations, wanting to see improvements in the field of naturalization tests and language teaching, too.48 Language regulation Initially, there was little evidence that the Estonian government would abandon its controversial language requirements for candidates standing in elections. The EU Commission mentioned the issue in its 1997 Opinion on Estonia only in passing, and thus failed to make it subject to clear conditionality (European Commission 1997a). Encouraged by this omission, the Estonian parliament passed language requirements for candidates in national elections.49 However, President Meri passed the law over to the constitutional court to stop the move.50 After formal changes demanded by the court, parliament passed a new version of the law in December 1998.51 The HCNM asked President Meri in a letter not to sign the law, stating: ‘In a representative democracy, there should be no mediation of the will of the people, that is they should be

168 International Socialization in Europe

essentially free to decide among themselves who they would wish to elect, and each citizen should be equally free to present themselves for election.’52 Meri, however, signed the law this time, arguing that there was too much tension in society.53 At the same time, Pro Patria presented a draft law on general language regulations in Estonia, demanding that actors in the private sector be able to use Estonian in their public and professional business.54 OSCE actors again tried to convince government and parliament not to regulate the private use of language, because this would contradict basic human rights.55 Nevertheless, shortly before the national elections, parliament changed the general language law in February 1999, demanding significant language proficiency from private business and public agency actors.56 This time, both EU and OSCE actors reacted with harsh public criticism. The head of the OSCE Mission publicly said: ‘If they want to be part of European institutions then they need to play by their rules and follow international standards.’ (Birckenbach 2000: 21). The EU Commission representative in Tallinn, Arhi Palosuo, called the law ‘problematic’ and ‘less tolerant’. However, these attempts to cause public shame and the argumentation of the HCNM were not effective during the election campaign period. The phase thus ended without compliance in the field of language regulations. In sum, Estonia began to move on the citizenship issue and complied with the demand to grant automatic citizenship to stateless children, while staying short of full compliance on the more general demand to facilitate naturalization, even though costs were high throughout. To explain this divergence, one may point to higher legitimacy and the lower long-term political costs of the children’s issue. However, process-tracing showed that ‘citizenship for children’ became the centre of credible EU democratic conditionality and that the leading EU actors put special emphasis on it. The two citizenship issues also became interconnected in the negotiation process. Granting automatic citizenship to stateless children was less costly and was partly seen as a concession to avoid compliance with the international demand to reduce statelessness. On domestic conditions, the language issues paralleled the citizenship issues. The main difference was that the EU did not attach clear and credible

Table 10.9

Cases

Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1997–99), language regulations

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identification

Resonance Compliance

Language law
(high) 1997–99

 (low)


(high)

 (high)
(high)
(high)

Noncompliance

Language
(high) requirements 1997–99

 (low)


(high)

 (high)
(high)
(high)

Noncompliance

Estonia 169

conditionality to the issue. Hence, non-compliance continued. The phase is also interesting in demonstrating that high resonance does not affect compliance when domestic costs are high and/or external incentives are not credible.

1999–2001 The national elections of early 1999 again led to a change in government. A coalition between Pro Patria, Reform Party and Moderates formed the government in March 1999, with Mart Laar as Prime Minister. Thus, elite resonance was lower than before (reduced). The domestic costs of compliance with the international demands remained mostly unchanged. Easing naturalization conditions still meant that a large group of new voters would sooner or later arrive, that would most likely opt for left-leaning parties, changing the power distribution between the Estonian parties to the clear disadvantage of the conservative Estonian parties. Correspondingly, there was no sign that the new coalition would go ahead and finally comply fully with the international demands made on the previous government. At the international level, the efforts by OSCE and CE actors declined to some extent. The CE had ended its monitoring of Estonia and the HCNM announced that he would not forward further recommendations to Estonia (Zaagman 1999b: 42). But the EU increased its efforts in 1999. In its autumn 1999 Progress Report and in the accession partnership of December 1999, the Commission continued to demand further progress on the citizenship issue (European Commission 1999a). In January 2000, Estonia received an additional communication from NATO that Estonia would need to take the final steps and find a lasting base for reducing statelessness before membership in the alliance was possible.57 The outcry on the citizenship issue in the Estonian parliament was surprisingly muted this time.58 Interestingly, the centre-right coalition government complied despite high costs and unfavourable rule resonance. Hence, we may need to introduce an ad hoc explanation here: It seems that Estonia was in a kind of endgame situation before the final step to membership. With EU and Table 10.10

Conditions and compliance in Estonia (1999–2001) Identification Resonance Compliance

Cases

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Statelessness 1999–2001


(high)


(high)

 (low)

 (high)
(high)  (reduced) Compliance

Language law
(high) 1999–2001


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(high)  (reduced) Compliance

Language
(high) requirements 1999–2001


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(high)  (reduced) Compliance

170 International Socialization in Europe

NATO membership tangible in the near future and accession negotiations proceeding, the Laar government gave priority to Estonia’s European aspirations. In March 2000, the parliament passed a comprehensive state integration programme commissioned under the last government for the period 2000–07 with increased efforts directed at language training (Akalev 2001: 24; Arnswald 2000: 168; Pettai 2001b: 20). Moreover, the government reduced naturalization requirements and bureaucratic hurdles; for example, by reducing fees and establishing a single framework for language testing. Language tests in school or for professional positions in the public sphere would thus equal those for naturalization. The European Commission and the Committee of Ministers of the CE welcomed the changes and stated that Estonia now fulfilled the international demands in the field of citizenship and naturalization (European Commission 2000; 2002b).59 With regard to the language issues, the costs of compliance continued to be high, because the standing of the Estonian language in society only improved slowly. Hence, ethnic Estonians remained highly sensitive to the issue. Pro Patria had committed itself to the protection of the Estonian language during the last election campaign and was therefore under pressure to act accordingly. In the case of language requirements for candidates, the power costs of compliance were equally high because the continued local rule of Russianspeaking politicians in the north-east implied that the Estonian political elite had still failed to break Soviet and Russian legacies. In the autumn of 1999, the EU Commission demanded improvements in general language legislation in its Regular Report, omitting concrete demands on the issue of language requirements for candidates standing in elections: ‘[T]he Language Law … [that] restricts access of non-Estonian speakers in political and economic life constitutes a step backwards and should be amended.’ (European Commission 1999a). After initial protests, the Estonian government announced that it intended to bring general language law in line with EU demands.60 However, a majority in parliament remained opposed. It was only after the summit of Helsinki in December 1999, the Association Council in February 2000 and after representatives from member states clearly stressed the membership conditionality attached to the issue that a majority of deputies decided to amend the legislation in June 2000, removing the controversial language requirements for (most) private and business activities.61 However, the government continued to stress the importance of language requirements for candidates standing in elections. The fact that the EU Commission came to criticize the laws in its Regular Report of 2000 (European Commission 2000) for the first time – but failed clearly to demand an amendment – did not trigger any change. On the contrary, Estonian representatives publicly stated that the Report matched their expectations and left the law untouched.62 In the early summer of 2001, OSCE representatives indicated that the mission had nearly completed its task and might be closed.63 This had been among the

Estonia 171

three top foreign policy goals (after EU and NATO membership) of Foreign Minister Ilves, since the presence of the mission implied a lack of stability and compliance in Estonia.64 In light of EU and NATO demands to resolve outstanding territorial conflicts and minority problems before membership, an OSCE decision to discontinue the mission would thus be a major success. As a precondition, the OSCE demanded that the election law be amended.65 At the same time, Doris Hertkampf, the head of the OSCE mission in Estonia, opened the way for a compromise by stating that the OSCE did not deny Estonia the right to a monolingual parliament and determine the standard working language in representative and governing bodies.66 This took care in part of the concerns of the majority of Estonian law makers that amending the law would establish Russian as a working language in Estonian politics and reduced the political costs to some extent.67 The Progress Report 2001 of the EU Commission added EU conditionality to the OSCE efforts and unmistakably demanded Estonia to revise the law.68 The member states subsequently made it clear that scrapping the language requirements and the departure of the OSCE mission would have a positive effect on Estonia’s membership perspective.69 NATO concurred in this conditionality.70 Again, it seems that the endgame situation, with the membership negotiations moving forwards and a final decision about membership impending, was able to overcome the political costs that remained. On 15 November, the Riigikogu (the Estonian Parliament) finally passed two amendments with a broad majority – one abolishing the language requirements and the other introducing Estonian as the working language in parliament.71 Estonian policymakers later left no doubt that NATO and EU membership conditionality was the most important motive.72 Michael Krejza, First Secretary of the European Commission delegation in Tallinn, pointed out that the EU considered Estonia’s heeding of international advice to be an important development – and the last significant barrier to membership.73

Results The Estonian case confirms earlier findings but adds new insights as well. First, it casts strong doubts on the explanatory power of constructivist or social learning variables. First, identification, as in the Turkish case study, did not vary during the 1990s and thus cannot in and by itself explain the change from non-compliance towards compliance. In light of the Yugoslavian, and especially the Belarusian case studies (where identification has been low and non-compliance persisted), the findings suggest that identification is not a sufficient factor, but it might still be a necessary one. Second, rule legitimacy varied between sub-cases but compliance occurred, nevertheless, in all of them. Third, rule resonance varied between the different governments but governments with reduced resonance sometimes complied and governments with high resonance did not. The only case of compliance under a high-resonance

172 International Socialization in Europe

government occurred on the stateless children issue under the less nationalist Mart Siiman government in 1998. Here, the international reward had been high and the conditionality attached by the EU particularly credible. Interestingly enough, the Estonian case study also suggests that domestic power costs seem to be insufficient for explaining compliance. One the one hand, low-cost phases (the stateless children issue until 1997) did not result in compliance in the absence of credible conditionality. On the other hand, the Estonian case study clearly shows that EU membership conditionality produced compliance when the threat of exclusion became credible in the different sub-cases. That this did not happen for all sub-issues at the same time, explains why the Estonian government and parliament reluctantly complied issue by issue rather than in one sweeping legal change. In contrast to our hypothesis, the Estonian case shows compliance under high domestic power costs. Thus, low costs do not seem to be a necessary condition of compliance. In these cases, it seems that the overall negotiating situation had a decisive impact. Estonia complied when EU (and NATO) membership was tangible and when both organizations clearly made compliance a precondition of the final decision to admit the country. At the same time, the Estonian cases show that social influence and argumentation efforts by the OSCE and the CE alone have been insufficient to achieve compliance. Moreover, the process-tracing analysis clearly illustrated that CE conditionality only produced concessions but not full compliance. However, the findings are also limited in two ways. First, it is unclear whether credible EU and NATO membership incentives would also have compensated very high costs. Second, it does not tell us whether membership conditionality is effective under conditions of low resonance.

Notes 1 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 8 November 1991. 2 The Convention on the Reduction of Statelessness has so far only been signed or ratified by eight western European countries; compare: http://www.unhchr.ch (14 February 2006). 3 RFE/RL Research Report vol. 2, no. 38, 24 September 1993. 4 FAZ, 5 August 1993. 5 BNS, 21 June 1995. 6 Russian Press Digest, 7 November 1991. 7 RFE/RL Research Report, 2/28, 24 Sept 1993; BBC World Broadcasts, 27 January 1993. 8 HCNM letter to the Estonian FM Velliste, 6 April 1993, in http://www.osce.org/ hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid. 11 RFE/RL Newsline, 24 March 1993. 12 CE/PA Doc. 6824; Doc. 6841. The HCNM criticized the arrangements in his letter to Foreign Minister Velliste on the 6 April 1993, in http://www.osce.org/hcnm/ documents.html (17 February 2006).

Estonia 173 13 FAZ, 30 November 1993. 14 Letter of the Estonian government to the HCNM, July 1993: http://www.osce.org/ hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). 15 For the OSCE, see Letter of the HCNM to FM Luik, 8 December 1994, in http:// www.osce.org/hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). 16 RFE/RL Newsline, 30 November 1994. 17 East European Business Law, 1 February 1995. 18 SZ, 21/22 January 1995. 19 SZ, 20 March 1995; 24 March 1995. 20 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 3 December 1995; BNS, 5 December 1995. 21 Letter from the HCNM to FM Kallas, 11 December 1995, in http://www.osce.org/ hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). 22 BNS, 21 February 1996; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 23 February 1996. 23 BNS, 21 February 1996. 24 BNS, 19 April 1996; 31 January 1997; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 1 February 1997. 25 BNS, 26 March 1996; 4 April 1996. 26 BNS, 16 April 1996; BBC, Summary of World Broadcasts, 9 January 1997; Estonian Review, 7: 5, 26 January–1 February 1997. 27 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 2 June 1995. 28 BNS, 17 February 1996; 22 April 1996. 29 BNS, 8 May 1996. 30 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 10 May 1996. 31 BNS, 8 May 1996. 32 BNS, 14 May 1996; 16 May 1996. 33 BNS, 14 May 1996. 34 BNS, 9 April 1997. 35 BNS, 9 April 1997. 36 BNS, 16 April 1997. 37 Letter of the HCNM to FM Ilves, 28 May 1997, in www.osce.org/hcnm/documents/ recommendations (17 February 2006). 38 BNS, 9 April 1997. 39 Estonian Review, 7: 28, 6–12 July 1997. 40 RFE/RL Newsline, 9 December 1997. 41 See Presidency Conclusions of the Luxembourg Summit of December 1997: http:// ue.eu.int/ueDocs/cms_Data/docs/pressData/en/ec/032a0008.htm (17 February 2006). 42 RFE/RL Newsline, 9 December 1997. 43 BNS, 17 March 1998; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 19 March 1998; RFE/RL Newsline, 3 March 1998. 44 Estonian Review 8: 42, 11–17 October 1998. 45 BNS, 28 August 1998; BNS, 17 September 1998; BNS, 5 November 1998. 46 WCA, 7–21 December 1987. 47 BNS, 8 December 1998. 48 Ibid. 49 RFE/RL Newsline, 19 December 1997. 50 RFE/RL Newsline, 23 December 1997. 51 BNS, 15 December 1998. 52 BNS, 30 December 1998. 53 RFE/RL Newsline, 4 January 1999. 54 BNS, 14 September 1998; 21 October 1998.

174 International Socialization in Europe 55 56 57 58 59

60 61

62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

BNS, 23 November 1998. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 9 February 1999. Estonian Review, 10: 2, 10–15 January 2000. RFE/RL Baltic States Report, 31 January 2000. Resolution ResCMN(2002)8 on the implementation of the Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities by Estonia, 13 June 2002; Nevertheless, the European Commission continued to be concerned about the level of naturalization per year, which still would not exceed 3000 to 4000 people a year (European Commission 2002b); RFE/RL, Weekly Magazine, 20 May 2003. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 19 October 1999; BNS, 31 January 2000. RAPID, 23 February 2000; RFE/RL Newsline, 27 March 2000; RFE/RL Newsline, 16 May 2000; BBC Summary of World Broadcast, 8 June 2000; RFE/RL Newsline, 8 June 2000; RFE/RL Newsline, 14 June 2000. RFE/RL Baltic States Report, vol. 1, no. 36, 29 November 2000. RFE/RL Baltic States Report, vol. 2, no. 14, 6 June 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 10 April 1997; RFE/RL Baltic States Report, vol. 2, no. 30, 21 December 2001. RFE/RL Baltic States Report, vol. 2, no. 17, 27 June 2001. RFE/RL Baltic States Report, no. 27, 19 November 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, 23 October 2001; RFE/RL Newsline, 8 November 2001. See European Commission 2001. BNS, 20 November 2001. BNS, 20 November 2001. RFE/RL Baltic States Report, vol. 2, no. 29, 13 December 2001; RFE/RL Weekly Magazine, 23 November 2001; BNS, 5 December 2001. WCA, 24 November 2001, in http://www.balticsww.com/wkcrier RFE/RL Weekly Magazine, 23 November 2001.

11 Latvia

Introduction In many respects, the Latvian case study parallels the Estonian case. First, the norm conflict centres on the policy towards the Russian-speaking minority. Second, European organizations applied different approaches in this case, too. Third, all internal conditions but one developed parallel to the Estonian case: resonance. A number of coalitions between conservative and right-wing parties with low resonance held power during the observation period. Hence, Latvia is the ideal companion case and allows us to study the impact of low resonance in a quasi-experimental design. The analysis begins after Latvia’s independence and is divided into phases according to the major changes in government. As in the Estonian case, we shall follow the conflict on the issues of Latvian citizenship and language regulations. In contrast, however, we will not be putting an additional spotlight on the issues of stateless children or language requirements for national candidates as these issues offer only limited additional insights into the conditions for compliance.

Conflict and norm violation The Latvian political elite faced the same difficulties as Estonia after its independence in 1991. The Soviet leadership had decided to secure its rule in the country through the cleansing of the ranks of the political elite and through a massive influx of Russian speaking settlers. In 50 years of Soviet occupation, the share of ethnic Latvians in the country dropped to about 52 per cent of the population. At the beginning of Latvian independence, the demographic situation was at least as precarious as those in the acknowledged minority ‘hot spots’ in South-Eastern Europe.1 Furthermore, the Russian population was concentrated in the eight largest cities across the country. Here, Latvians were actually in the minority. In Riga, the capital, their share even dropped to 37.7 per cent (Dreifelds 1996: 147–8). 175

176 International Socialization in Europe

As in Estonia, much of the debate during the immediate transition to independence focused on questions of citizenship for the Russian speaking population and protection for the titular nation. In October 1991, the Supreme Council, the Latvian parliament of the Soviet era, decided that only citizens of the interwar republic and their descendants should automatically become citizens of the independent Latvia.2 In contrast with Estonia, it initially refused point blank to pass a new law on naturalization, arguing that only a newly elected parliament would have the right to do so after a new constitution had been accepted. This policy left 700,000 Latvian inhabitants stateless (Muiznieks 1997: 392). The first national elections were scheduled for 1993. The discussion of a naturalization law would therefore only start in the autumn of 1993. This delay already contradicted the international convention about the reduction of statelessness and came close to violating international and European treaties on political and civil rights. Additionally, the Latvian parliament amended the 1989 language law to protect the Latvian language in 1992. The ‘Russification’ of public life had altered the socio-linguistic practice towards a clear monopoly of Russian in the public sphere (Dreifelds 1996: 157). Thus, the Latvian parliament made knowledge of the Latvian language a prerequisite for positions in civil service and some private sector activities. A state language centre was given the authority to carry out inspections and to fine people for violating the requirements. Nonetheless, international organizations could not declare a clear breach of international norms at this point. An early assessment of the UN fact-finding mission stated: ‘The language law itself is not incompatible with international law nor with generally accepted human rights standards.’3 The assessment changed in 1997 once Latvia’s ruling elite worked out new regulations, which made the use of Latvian mandatory for all private sector activities, and expanded monitoring and language enforcement mechanisms in contrast with basic human rights, non-discrimination norms and minority rights.4

International demands and conditions Prior to independence, the international community was already concerned about the potential instability of the country and the precarious ethnic situation, and asked the Soviet government and the Latvian people for restraint and respect for CSCE principles and human rights.5 Table 11.1 of Latvia

External incentives in the international socialization

Phases

Incentives

Credibility

1991–93 1993–97 1997–

 (low)
(high)
(high)

 (low)  (low)
(high)

Latvia 177

Soon after independence in August 1991, Latvia became a member of the CSCE, a special guest of the CE, and applied for membership in the CE. The Council therefore began to review the Latvian human rights record.6 Just as in the case of Estonia, the OSCE became involved under its new crisis prevention mechanisms in 1992 and 1993, after the Russian Federation had complained about human rights abuses in the country. Subsequently, the organization established a mission in Latvia to monitor the situation and asked its HCNM, Max van der Stoel, to review the situation and issue recommendations (Birckenbach 1997; Poleshchuck 2001; Zaagman 1999a). At first, the international incentives looked rather unfavourable for compliance, because neither the OSCE nor the Council of Europe had major material incentives on offer. OSCE actors mainly relied on a mixture of expert advice, argumentation and social influence to foster change. Max van der Stoel repeatedly visited the country, held consultations behind closed doors and presented his recommendations in letters to the government, in which he referred to Latvia’s prior commitments, its international legal obligations and its obligations as a democratic country, in order to persuade the Latvian government to amend its laws and practices (Zaagman 1999a: 10; Poleshchuk 2001: 15–16). He did the same when the Latvian government started to draft restrictive changes of the language law in 1997/98.7 The CE experts made similar suggestions, although more publicly. In February 1992, the Parliamentary Assembly passed a resolution that asked Latvia to implement legislation for minority protection and the protection of all inhabitants of the country.8 Then the CE made Latvian membership dependent on the introduction of a citizenship law in line with international standards in 1993 (Barrington 1999: 172).9 Concerning the language law, the CE expressed its criticism in a report after having sent experts to Latvia. The EU did not become directly involved at this early stage but merely aligned itself with the demands of the other two organizations. Although its general conditional commitment to Eastern enlargement in 1993 also applied to Latvia, the membership perspective became credible only after the EU Commission published its Opinion on the applications for membership of the CEECs in summer 1997. First, the credibility of the membership promise was not obvious in the Latvian case between 1993 and 1997. Of course, the Baltic States had intensified their institutional ties with the EU in parallel (Arnswald 1998: 47, 53, 56) by concluding Trade and Cooperation agreements in spring 1992, Free Trade Agreements in July 1994, and Association Agreements in 1995. But when Latvia submitted its membership application in the same year, there was considerable disagreement among the member states.10 In addition, observers were uncertain whether Latvia qualified or not.11 Even the German government, which had labelled itself ‘the advocate of the Baltic states’ at the time and which had pressed for the conclusion of the Association Agreement (Arnswald 1998: 52), now regarded the decisions about EU and NATO membership of the country to be interdependent and paid much attention to

178 International Socialization in Europe

Russian concerns (Föhrenbach 2002: 211–13). The German government therefore dampened Latvian hopes for NATO membership by mid-1995 and began to have second thoughts about a far-reaching EU enlargement (Föhrenbach 2002: 213). Only the Nordic states stuck to their clear support.12 In July 1997, in its Opinions on the applicant countries, the European Commission judged Latvia to fulfil the political criteria for admission in general, but mirrored the concerns of OSCE and CE actors by demanding that ‘Latvia needs to take measures to accelerate naturalization procedures to enable the Russian-speaking non-citizens to become better integrated into Latvian society’ and did not recommend Latvia for the beginning of membership negotiations (European Commission 1997b). Once the Luxembourg summit in December 1997 took the decision to accept Latvia as a candidate for membership but not to start negotiations with the country, the credibility of conditionality increased considerably. First, the parallel decision to start negotiations with Estonia indicated to the Latvian government that the Union would not pay much attention to Russian opposition to Baltic membership in European organizations in the future, would judge Latvia on its own merits and leave the door to the Union open for the country. Second, the threat to exclude a non-compliant Latvia became highly credible with the Luxembourg Council decision (December 1997) to postpone the start of accession negotiations.13

Domestic conditions As already indicated, the domestic conditions for compliance were basically mixed during the observation period. As in the Estonian case, identification with the West was high among all political parties and groupings that were to hold executive power in the country. All parties regarded Latvia as a part of the West and were committed to the Westernization of their political and economic systems as well as to Latvia’s integration into Western organizations (Jubulis 1996: 69; Plakans 1997: 285; Smith et al. 1998: 108). Even the rightwing nationalist forces subscribed to this view on a generel level, even though they were less willing to compromise Latvian sovereignty (Jubulis 2001: 113). Upon closer inspection, domestic conditions for compliance varied between the different political forces and governments. As we have argued earlier, the resonance of norms protecting minorities mainly depended on the exclusiveness and ethno-nationalistic nature of the dominant political forces’ nationalism. Whereas the political right and the conservative parties recruited their activists and their supporters mainly from the members of the titular nation, the left-leaning and post-Communist parties turned more decisively to Latvian citizens of Russian-Slavic origin (Plakans 1997: 260). The latter parties did not share the former’s Latvian ethno-nationalist ideology and tried to safeguard the rights of their supporters. Hence, the resonance of norms protecting the Russian-speaking population was high. Among the first parties of this spectrum were the Democratic Party and the Saimnieks movement, which merged

Latvia 179

as the Democratic Party ‘Saimnieks’ in 1995. These parties may count as centre-left (social democratic) parties and have argued in favour of democratic participation of the whole population right from the beginning. Another moderate left-leaning party was the Harmony (for Latvia) Party, founded by former Foreign Minister Janis Jurkans after he had to retire from office in 1992 because of his liberal approach towards the Russian-speaking population (Jubulis 2001: 173; Plakans 1997: 277). Additionally, the pro-Russian Equal Rights Movements emerged in 1993 (Jubulis 2001: 172). Dominated by Latvian citizens of Russian origin, the party claimed to be the prime advocate of the Russianspeaking population and demanded unconditional and equal political participation of the whole Russian-speaking minority (Hanne 1996: 79). In contrast, resonance was reduced among the centre-right parties that have dominated Latvian politics together with the right-wing nationalists. Overall, the parties of the conservative spectrum were caught between their general democratic convictions and their nationalist reflexes, with the need to balance out those two. The conservative Latvian Agrarian Union (LZS) followed an ethno-nationalist approach and tried to secure the dominance of the titular nation in the country and to resist Russian influence.14 The party initially argued in favour of limited access to Latvian citizenship and called for the protection and enforcement of the Latvian language as the focal point of Latvian identity. Since the party generally accepted that democracy went hand-in-hand with basic human and civil rights, one may argue that the resonance of Western norms protecting minorities was reduced. In exactly the same way, the nationalist-liberal party Latvia’s Way had a reduced resonance, turning to a more cultural-nationalist ideology with special emphasis on the protection of Latvian national culture and language (Jubulis 2001: 113–14). Andrejs Pantelejevs, Chairman of Latvia’s Way, argued: ‘I see the concept of “nationality” not as a matter of blood lines and descent, but rather of culture and language’ (Jubulis 2001: 114). Yet the party still believed that the enforcement of the national language and culture was central to stabilizing independence and for the future of the country. The party demanded that the Russian-speaking population adapt to this dominating culture, argued in favour of a high level of language knowledge as a prerequisite for naturalization and favoured laws to secure cultural and linguistic dominance. During the second half of the 1990s, two major novel parties emerged in the same spectrum: the New Party, a conservative movement that avoided tying itself to a clear policy towards the Russian-speaking population, and the People’s Party, a populist conservative party. The more radical right-wing parties such as the Fatherland and Freedom Union (TB), the Latvian National Independence Movement (LNNK) or the extremist People’s Movement for Latvia were primarily motivated by a strong ethno-nationalist ideology. LNNK and TB argued vigorously for a ‘Latvian Latvia’ and demanded that international organizations should help the Latvian government to transfer the colonists back to their home countries

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(Jubulis 2001: 116; Smith et al. 1998: 106). They rejected liberal approaches, arguing that this would only lead to the Russian annexation of Latvia (Jubulis 2001: 117). Likewise, they made the protection of the national culture and language a central point and rejected demands to protect the culture and language of the ‘occupiers’ (Smith et al. 1998: 105). Even though LNNK and TB accepted the democratic game and the rule of law, they were highly critical of international standards that would limit the sovereignty of the Latvian people. The resonance of international norms protecting minorities was thus rather low among those parties. In general, the party system consolidated slowly in Latvia and coalition governments were rather unstable. Changes of coalition and party affiliation were quite common among Latvian parliament deputies. However, there has always been a majority for the nationalist forces with reduced or low resonance in parliament. The governmental resonance has varied within this scope. The immediate political transition period lasted until 1993. During this period the Latvian Supreme Council was dominated by a coalition of conservative nationalist forces within the Popular Front under the leadership of Ivars Godmanis (Jubulis 1996: 69; Knudsen 1993: 412; Nieß 1995: 363).15 The national elections of 1993 consolidated the power of these forces, which controlled parliament with 75 per cent of the votes. In coalition with the smaller Agrarian Union, PM Valdis Birkavs (Latvia’s Way) subsequently led a minority government that excluded the right-wing nationalist parties. The coalition could command 48 out of 100 votes (as long as party discipline was maintained) and was able to maintain a majority as long as a minimum of three additional votes from the opposition groups right of centre could be recruited

Table 11.2

Resonance and identification among Latvian political parties

Period

Coalition

May 1990–July 1993 August 1993–July 1994 July 1994–December 1995 December 1995–July 1997 August 1997–November 1998 November 1998–July 1999 July 1999–April 2000

Popular Front Latvia’s Way, Agrarian Union Latvia’s Way, Harmony Party, Union of Economists Latvia’s Way, Agrarian Union, LNNK,TB, DPS, Unity Party LNNK/TB, Latvia’s Way, DPS,
(high) Unity Party Agrarian Union LNNK/TB, Latvia’s Way, The New Party LNNK/TB, Latvia’s Way, People’s Party LNNK/TB, Latvia’s Way, People’s Party The New Party

May 2000–May 2002

Identification Resonance

 (reduced)

 (low)

Latvia 181

(Dreifelds 1996: 87–9; Melvin 2000: 145; Plakans 1997: 263). In the summer 1994, the Agrarian Union left the coalition because of a rift over agricultural reform (Plakans 1997: 266).16 Latvia’s Way formed a coalition with the small Union of Economists and the less nationalist Harmony Party to lead Latvia into the upcoming elections in 1995. Since Latvia’s Way clearly dominated the coalition, the resonance of minority protection was again reduced. The run-up to the national elections in 1995 was dominated by two issues. On the one hand, the public was dissatisfied with the slow economic recovery. On the other hand, the dispute over the Russian minority continued to produce lively debates. The dominance of these two issues resulted in a rise of the radical left and the radical right in the national elections and in the defeat of the moderate nationalist parties. A fragmented parliament therefore emerged from the elections (Plakans 1997: 281). After some unsuccessful efforts to build a government through coalition blocks on the left and the right,17 President Ulmanis brought in the non-partisan Andris Skele, a former deputy minister of agriculture, who managed to form a broad-based but rather fragile coalition between all major centre-right parties. For the years to come, stable governing coalitions were not possible without accepting a major role for the rightwing nationalists. With the LNNK and TB in the coalition, resonance was low. From 1996 onwards, a wave of party break-ups and change in party affiliations hit the coalition. PM Skele turned out to be weak, and Guntars Krasts (LNNK/TB) came to replace him as prime minister in summer 1997. Krasts soon managed to consolidate his power by tying in smaller nationalist groupings (Pettai 1999: 150). The nationalist parties lost some support in the 1998 elections, but were strong enough to form a government. All subsequent governments again included the LNNK/TB. Thus, the resonance of norms protecting the minority stayed low. As in Estonia, the power costs of compliance on the citizenship issue were initially very high. The Latvian Republic had been restored after de facto 50 years of annexation, but the chances for stability, with the titular nation bringing to bear only 52 per cent of the population, were rather uncertain. The vicechairman of the Latvian Supreme Council, Andrejs Pantelejevs, said: ‘From the perspective of a large nation, some of these problems may not be fully understood, [h]ere we are talking about the very existence of the independent state of the republic of Latvia – and the existence of the Latvian people. We are responding today to what occurred here over the past 50 years: the genocide of the Latvian nation.’18 Nearly one third of the deputies in the Supreme Soviet, mainly non-Latvians, had voted against the declaration of independence in May 1990 and had nearly prevented the necessary two thirds majority (Jubulis 2001: 94). In the national referendum of March 1991, two thirds of the non-Latvian population had voted against independence (Jubulis 2001: 153). The fact that the Russian army was still present on Latvian soil reinforced the perceived threat to independence considerably (Bojars 1994: 101; Muiznieks 1997: 391). Latvian politicians soon

182 International Socialization in Europe

came to the conclusion that nearly 30 per cent of the population (two thirds of the Russian minority) might act as a fifth column for Russian expansionism or at least as a means to pressure Latvia to conform to Russian interests.19 In addition, the non-Latvian population voted mainly for left-wing Communist or post-Communist parties. By granting citizenship to the Russian-speaking part of the population, and thus doubling the electorate, the ethnically Latvian representatives not only risked losing their majority in parliament but also empowering a stable majority to the left of the political spectrum. Finally, since the majority of the Latvian voters clearly preferred a restrictive policy towards the Russian-speaking population, a liberal policy, if advanced by conservative Latvian parties, would most certainly lead to a loss of votes in the next national elections in favour of the right-wing nationalists. As we will show in the process-tracing part of the chapter, the costs began to decrease for a variety of reasons in the second half of the 1990s. Among other factors, Russia withdrew its troops, minority opposition to independence declined, and the mobilization efforts by Russian nationalists and Communist minority groups proved ineffective. In contrast, the power costs of compliance for the coalition partners were steadily high with regard to Latvian language law. First of all, the Latvians expected that compliance with Western demands would most certainly hinder Latvian efforts to overcome the dominance of the Russian language in society, slowing down the rebuilding of the Latvian nation (Jubulis 2001: 122–6). When the demands of the international organizations became known, public resentment rose strongly. By supporting the liberal approach of international organizations, governments risked losing the support of their power base in society and parliament.

Process and outcome 1991–93 Until the first national elections in 1993, a coalition between the conservative forces in the popular front under the leadership of Ivars Godmanis and nationalist groupings dominated the transitional Latvian parliament. With independence being recent and fragile, the government put much emphasis

Table 11.3

Case

Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1991–93)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Statelessness  (low) 1991–93

 (low)

 (low)

Identification Resonance Compliance

 (very
(high)  (reduced) Nonhigh) compliance

Latvia 183

on increasing its autonomy vis-à-vis Russia and on rebuilding the Latvian nation. As soon as the government decided to delay the introduction of naturalization provisions, international organizations criticized the Latvian approach. Representatives of the CE talked to the Latvian delegation a number of times during winter 1991 and asked to implement international standards for minority protection and protection of all inhabitants of the country, including the stateless population.20 However, the Council pointed out that membership would have to wait until Latvia had left the immediate transition phase, had held elections and had passed a new constitution (Barrington 1999: 172).21 Hence, the credibility of conditionality was at first low, because the reward did not only depend on rule compliance. In January 1993, the OSCE’s HCNM Max van der Stoel visited Latvia for one week, consulted with high-level representatives, and put forward his suggestions in a letter to FM Andrejevs after a further visit in April.22 In his letter, he urged the government to introduce a citizenship law soon, to adopt moderate language and residency requirements (five years of prior residence and a day-to-day knowledge of Latvian) in line with European standards, and to consider a number of exceptions from the test as well as waivers for elderly people and children born in Latvia that would otherwise be stateless.23 Unfortunately, EC/EU representatives gave mixed signals to Latvia during this first phase. During his visit to Paris in March 1993, the Latvian Foreign Minister was requested by President Mitterrand to resolve the complicated situation of the Russian-speaking population (Nieß 1995: 356). At the same time, the German government supported Latvia against Russian pressure, arguing that no human rights violations existed in Latvia (Nieß 1995: 353). Altogether, the material incentives offered in return for compliance with OSCE and CE demands were rather low. Weak Western efforts to cause shame, less than credible CE membership conditionality, and the persuasion efforts of the HCNM characterized this early phase. The Latvian government rejected the demands and failed to comply until the end of this phase. It claimed that French politicians and the French press had adopted the Russian viewpoint uncritically (Nieß 1995: 355). Foreign Minister Andrejevs echoed the position of the parliament in his written response to the HCNM, stating that the existing provisional parliament had no legitimacy to pass a citizenship law, that the current situation was a result of Soviet occupation, and that the existing human rights provisions were sufficient to protect the Russian minority.24 Juris Bojars, a central figure in the Latvian parliament, argued that Latvia behaved just as any other European country that does not automatically open its doors for third world immigrants (Smith et al. 1998: 109). The phase shows that even though identification was high, argumentation, weak social pressure and weak CE membership conditionality were unable to overcome the very high costs and unfavourable resonance of minority protection of the ruling elite.

184 International Socialization in Europe Table 11.4

Case

Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1993–95)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Statelessness
(high) 1993–95

 (low)

 (low)

Identification

 (very
(high) high)

Resonance

Compliance

 (reduced) Noncompliance

1993–95 After the adoption of the new constitution and during the election campaign of summer 1993, the international demands became subject of major public debate (Jubulis 2001: 112).25 The elections resulted in a conservative coalition (reduced resonance) between the Agrarian Union and Latvia’s Way, which was led by PM Valdis Brikavs. The cost of compliance was mostly unchanged (very high) and only began to decrease slowly when Russia withdrew its troops during 1994. In general, the aggressive Russian rhetoric towards Latvia at the time limited the actual reduction of political costs, because the Latvian government still felt that the retired Russian personnel in the country, if admitted to full political and civil rights, could function as a fifth column (for the arguments see Bojars 1994: 99). Once the new Latvian government came into office, Western organizations renewed their efforts. An expert delegation of the CE visited Riga in September 1993 to make clear which international norms Latvia needed to be adopted.26 Max van der Stoel repeatedly visited the country and argued in favour of a liberal citizenship law.27 In addition, the EU made accession conditional on the introduction of minority protection and the respect for human rights at its Copenhagen summit in June 1993. Thus, the material incentives for compliance increased but the credibility of EU conditionality was weak because Latvian membership remained a very distant opportunity. In the meantime, heated debates about the citizenship law took place in the Latvian population. The conservatives and the right-wing nationalists maintained their opposition and rejected ‘mass naturalization’ of the former ‘colonists’. For example, Gunars Meierovics, the candidate of Latvia’s Way for the presidency, argued that ‘[t]here are just too many non-Latvians here. We cannot possibly give them all citizenship at once’.28 By contrast, the left wing in parliament vigorously argued in favour of inclusion through citizenship.29 However, Latvian MPs rarely considered international demands publicly; the debate mainly centred on demographic and historical concerns (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 34). Despite international advice, the nationalist majority in parliament passed a draft law proposed by the Agrarian Union in its first reading in November.30 Judged by international expectations, this was a restrictive draft, which cemented the citizenship of the pre-war citizens and their descendants, made

Latvia 185

great demands on applicants (with regards to language requirements, residency and knowledge of the constitution) and limited the increase of citizens to 0.1 per cent of the population per year (Barrington 1999: 173). In December 1993, the CE declared that Latvia was about to spoil its chances of becoming a member of the organization.31 According to the CE, introducing quotas together with restrictive requirements would give the executing bodies too much discretion for selection and violate international norms about the predictability of legal decisions and transparency. The Council demanded a more concrete naturalization perspective and special clauses for the stateless elderly and stateless children. The HCNM requested the Latvian government to reconsider the content of the law, because it would prohibit a significant reduction of statelessness in a justifiable period of time.32 The HCNM claimed that under a restrictive citizenship policy that was effectively denying political rights to a large part of the population, ‘the character of the democratic system in Latvia might even be put into question’.33 Picking on the problem of transparency and predictability, the HCNM argued that a staggered arrangement over three or four years would be satisfactory, giving preference to special cases and long-term residents first. The Latvian government did not react to the democratic conditionality and the arguments put forward at first. FM Andrejevs only informed the HCNM that he would pass on the recommendations to parliament but that preference would be given to the evaluation of the CE.34 The parliament passed an almost unaltered version of the law in June 1994.35 Subsequently, the CE stated that Latvia would not be admitted under these conditions.36 In this situation, the European Council meeting at Corfu a couple of days later sent a message to the government of Latvia and added credibility to the CE conditionality: ‘It [the European Council] notes with concern the adoption by the Latvian Parliament of a citizenship law incompatible with these [HCNM and CE] recommendations and hopes that the draft law will be reconsidered.’37 PM Birkavs reacted and asked the Latvian President to veto the law because of its negative international effects on CE membership and possibly on the association negotiations of Latvia with the EU.38 President Ulmanis did so in July 1994 (Birckenbach 1997: 48).39 However, the ruling coalition broke down in July and the chances to pass an amended citizenship law seemed to vanish again with nationalist deputies constituting the majority in parliament (Plakans 1997: 266). Surprisingly, a reformed law was passed by the parliament before a new government came into office in late July.40 Assessed in terms of the demands, the new law was a concession, nothing more. On the one hand, it did not include yearly quotas; on the other hand, it foresaw quite demanding naturalization tests and stayed short of providing special clauses. It introduced a so-called ‘window system’ for age groups in reversed order, giving preference to the small group of younger non-citizens with the argument that they are better suited for integration. Furthermore, the new law extended the process up to 2003

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in contrast with the HCNM recommendation to introduce a timetable that would span over three or four years (Antane and Tsilevich 1998: 42; Barrington 1999: 173). At the end of July, the EU welcomed the changes as an important step, while opinions were essentially mixed in the international community.41 The HCNM was cautious, issuing concerns about the provisions.42 The CE was more forthcoming. The final opinion on Latvia’s application for membership considered the new act to be as generous and liberal as it could be under the given circumstances.43 Latvia was subsequently admitted to the Council in February 1995, with the Council aiming at further progress through social influence after accession. To summarize this phase, the internal conditions for compliance did not change in comparison to the previous phase and the efforts of the OSCE HCNM remained rather ineffective. With the EU decision at Copenhagen (1993), the size of the international reward increased but the reward still lacked credibility. In a rationalist perspective, it is therefore rather unsurprising that compliance remained low. The highly credible CE membership conditionality, which was less rewarding in material than in social terms, did not result in compliance with Western demands either. The process-tracing analysis showed that the Latvian government only moved towards concessions after the CE had initially rejected its application and once the EU backed the conditionality of the CE by linking it indirectly with the negotiations on the Association Agreement. 1995–97 During the election campaign leading up to the second national elections in October 1995, the right-wing politicians denounced the reforms as a sell-out of national interests, whereas the left-wing parties concentrated on the economic and social consequences of the transformation. The elections resulted in a fragmented parliament, in which nationalist forces had again won a majority. However, it required a broad based coalition under the nonpartisan Prime Minister Andris Skele to form a majority government.44 The domestic costs of compliance began to decrease during this phase. On the one hand, they remained high in terms of coalition-building and government stability, because the broad based coalition had to bridge a wide ideological cleavage between right and left wing parties. The risk that

Table 11.5

Case

Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1995–97)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Statelessness
(high) 1995–97

 (low)

 (low)

Identification

 (high)
(high)

Resonance Compliance  (low)

Noncompliance

Latvia 187

compliance with international demands would result in the rightist parties leaving the government was high. The coalition partners therefore explicitly agreed not to touch citizenship law in order to reduce possible conflicts between the coalition partners.45 On the other hand, it slowly became clear that the majority of the Russianspeaking population did not intend to destabilize Latvia and revert to Russian rule. There was no significant mobilization of the minority, despite radical minority groups calling for resistance, general strike and demonstrations. Moreover, the 30 to 40 minority organizations mainly reflected the ambitions of their leaders, resulting in conflicts between the different groups. There was no united political movement able to exercise pressure (Moshes 1999: 41). In addition, minority identification with Russia became increasingly limited to cultural heritage, while a political affinity to the West emerged. According to an opinion poll conducted in 1996, 48 per cent of the minority thought that adaptation to the Latvian society was the best option (Pettai 1996: 48). Support for an independent Latvia climbed to 53 per cent. The voting behaviour of the Latvian citizens of Russian origin also showed that the majority of naturalized members of the minority would not necessarily vote along ethnic lines (Moshes 1999: 39). And despite the fact that, in 1996, 33,000 non-Latvians were entitled to apply for citizenship, only a marginal number of 400 did so (Runcis 1998: 43). Even taking the discouraging requirements into account, one has to concede that this partly reflected a lack of interest, triggered by a general disengagement from public life. In terms of public support, opinion polls suggested that 75 per cent of the Latvians now considered the economic and social situation in the country as the most pressing problem, while only 7 per cent maintained that defending independence should be the top priority of the government (Moshes 1999: 40). When the new government was in place, the HCNM visited the country again and continued to demand that the naturalization tests should be made easier, language training for the minority should be enhanced, citizenship should be given to stateless children, and the naturalization fee be reduced. Above all, he suggested removing the naturalization window, since it had failed to be an effective mechanism for reducing statelessness. The EU and the CE did not exercise any visible influence to change the Latvian approach in this time period.46 The social influence and persuasion efforts of the HCNM remained more or less without effect. The Latvian government argued that the reason for the low pace of naturalization was a lack of interest rather than law or governmental behaviour.47 FM Birkavs indicated that further changes were not possible, because of the current differences between the government parties.48 The government made only one minor concession and increased its efforts for language training.49 EU Commissioner for external relations, Hans van den Broek, visited Riga at the beginning of April 1997 and called on Latvia to bring its minority legislation

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into conformity with EU standards.50 As a consequence, FM Birkavs tried to soften Latvia’s hitherto uncompromising stance and stressed that Latvia would comply with all international obligations.51 In parliament, the first signs of change became visible, too: a handful of Latvia’s Way deputies called upon the parliament to review the naturalization process, acknowledging that the law may create major problems for Latvia on its way into the EU. With the nationalists in parliament rejecting all international pressure, the public debate mainly focused on the credibility of EU conditionality (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 38), but no amendments were adopted until summer 1997. In sum, the conditions for compliance stayed mostly unfavourable during this phase. The domestic costs decreased but remained at a high level. The inclusion of the right-wing nationalists in the ruling coalition reduced resonance and further decreased the chances for success. EU political conditionality only gained in credibility and effectiveness slowly: when the Commissioner van den Broek demanded changes at the end of the phase and linked these to the forthcoming Opinion of the EU Commission on Latvia’s application, the Latvian government finally chose to moderate its rhetoric. 1997–99: statelessness The domestic conditions that had emerged during the previous phase remained unchanged at the beginning of this phase. First, the right of centre coalition under Prime Minister Krasts continued to rule the country. The October 1998 elections brought PM Kristopans (Latvia’s Way) to power but did not modify resonance because the coalition between conservatives and rightwing nationalists further dominated parliament. Second, the majority of the Russian-speaking population continued to be rather apathetic about politics (Karklins and Zepa 2001: 342) and the rate of naturalization remained low (Moshes 1999: 41). For the time being, the costs continued to decrease in this respect. Nevertheless, the fragile centre-right coalition still relied on the support from the nationalist parties to a great extent, thus costs of compliance mainly resulted from the risk of a coalition breakdown and a loss of power for those who would try to press for compliance with Western demands. Therefore, the overall costs of compliance were high at first, but suddenly became low in the autumn of 1998 – as we shall see. International conditions changed in this phase, however. The EU increased its activity and strictly applied democratic conditionality. The European Commission published its Opinion in July 1997 and devoted much attention Table 11.6

Case

Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1997–99), statelessness

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Statelessness
(high)


(high)

 (low)


(low)

Identification Resonance Compliance
(high)  (low)

Compliance

Latvia 189

to the problem of naturalization of non-citizens and the so-called ‘window system’. With the exception of the Latvian policy towards the Russian-speaking minority, the Commission judged Latvia to be a democratic country. The Commission therefore demanded the abolishment of the current window system, arguing that ‘[g]iven this ‘shortage’ of applications for naturalization, such a system [the so called ‘window system’ of age cohorts] no longer appears warranted’, and stating that ‘Latvia needs to take measures to accelerate naturalization procedures to enable the Russian-speaking non-citizens to become better integrated into Latvian society’ (European Commission 1997b). This also included granting citizenship to stateless children. In conclusion, the Commission named minority policy as one of the major reasons not to recommend the start of accession negotiations with Latvia at this point. The reactions to this unfavourable assessment were mixed. In August, FM Birkavs announced that Latvia would do all it could to fulfil the Commission’s demands soon,52 while the chairman of the LNNK/TB party, as well as the new Prime Minister Krasts, ruled out any moves to increase naturalization as long as the right-wing nationalists would be part of the ruling coalition.53 Subsequently, parliament rejected a draft law from the opposition that would comply with Western demands after PM Krasts had threatened to end the coalition if the draft were adopted.54 PM Krasts publicly argued that Latvia’s citizenship policy would have no impact on its chances to gain early accession negotiations and that changes were not required by the Commission (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 39). It turned out that the European leaders at the Luxembourg summit in midDecember held a distinctively different view. They followed the Commission’s suggestions and rejected accession negotiations with Latvia, giving notice to FM Birkavs that Latvia needed to change its citizenship law according to the requirements.55 When political conditionality became credible, the Latvian government slowly changed course. PM Krasts, caught between the government’s international ambitions and the long-standing convictions of his party, decided to accept careful concessions by lowering the naturalization fees and publicly indicated that he did not rule out changes to citizenship law in general – particularly with regard to the naturalization of stateless children.56 In parliament, the nationalists nevertheless rejected a corresponding draft law from the opposition in February.57 The LNNK/TB faction even reaffirmed its opposition to changes and criticized their own PM for his accommodating line.58 Hence, the internal prospects for reform continued to be rather unfavourable. The Council of Ministers and EU Commissioner van den Broek nevertheless continued to stress conditionality.59 Above all, the British EU presidency demanded compliance in the name of the Union.60 Even Max van der Stoel started to refer to the conditionality applied by the EU, realizing that his social influence fell short of promoting change.61 In this situation, the moderate nationalist and strongly pro-European parts of the Latvian government parties, in particular deputies and ministers from

190 International Socialization in Europe

Latvia’s Way, slowly changed their position. In April, FM Birkavs (Latvia’s Way), a member of the more liberal wing of his party, stated that the earlier coalition agreement, which intended not to touch citizenship law, was a mistake and that it was unwise not to change the law.62 The government coalition became divided over the issue. As the strongly pro-European deputies joined the less nationalist liberalizers, the internal balance of power shifted. Draft laws were presented to parliament in April. The drafts included abandoning the so-called window system, to make naturalization tests for the elderly easier and to grant the automatic right to citizenship for stateless children born in Latvia. The laws passed parliament with only a small margin in the first reading. Thus, EU representatives continued to pressure the Latvian government. Finland’s President Ahtisari and Germany’s Chancellor Kohl reportedly called upon President Ulmanis, reminding him that Europe expected prompt compliance (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 41). Britain’s Prime Minister Blair, holding the EU presidency, sent a letter to the Latvian government on 2 June, urging adoption of the amendments in line with the OSCE recommendations, stating that the EU would not have a positive view about a delay or insufficient amendments and that the decision would most certainly affect Latvia’s membership perspective.63 In conclusion, the credibility of the conditionality rose to the highest possible level. Shortly after the letter had reached the government, FM Birkavs urged the law makers to comply with Western demands, because non-compliance would result in a loss of allies and partners in the West.64 President Ulmanis put the stress on change in a speech before the parliament shortly before the final vote, arguing that the alternative would be international isolation. In spite of outcries from right-wing nationalist deputies and fierce public debate, the amendments were adopted on 22 June 1998.65 International actors immediately welcomed the amendments.66 Once the law was adopted, the Fatherland and Freedom faction (LNNK/TB) contested the law, announcing an intention to seek a national referendum on the issue and immediately to collect the required signatures of deputies for the formal request. Internationally, European governments continued to stress the conditionality of EU membership, giving credibility to the demands.67 The US administration supported the amendments as well.68 To calm fears and to confront arguments from right-wing nationalists, EU Commissioner van den Broek, just as the HCNM, promised that the EU and the OSCE would not issue new demands after the referendum.69 The pressure continued until the eve of the referendum, when the EU Parliament and the EU Commission once more made clear that the decision of the Latvian people was directly related to the membership perspective of Latvia.70 Internally, the debate on the issue continued. It centred by and large on the international pressure and the conditionality applied by the EU. Apart from FM Birkavs and some other parliament deputies, actors rarely tried to discuss the normative arguments for and against compliance (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 42). The debate focused on EU enlargement, demographic fears, historical guilt,

Latvia 191

and accusations against international organizations. Hence, the political divide in parliament continued,71 but all government parties refrained from leaving the coalition, apparently to avoid a setback in the upcoming elections and the referendum. Shortly before the referendum, President Ulmanis again addressed the Latvian people, advising them to consider whether rejecting the law would benefit Latvia’s position in the world and that it would lead the country into international isolation.72 In contrast, the right-wing nationalists and the Prime Minister maintained that rejecting the abolition of the window system would not lead the EU to bar Latvia from membership.73 Finally, the national referendum was held together with the parliamentary elections on 3 October 1998. The majority of Latvians voted for the abolition of the window system and the granting of automatic citizenship to stateless children. Yet the public, as well as the political elite, took this decision grudgingly: the amendments were only retained by a small margin of 53 per cent of the votes.74 Even though the right-wing nationalists lost some support in the national elections, a right of centre coalition that included Latvia’s Way and the right-wing nationalist LNNK/TB party came to power again. The resonance of minority rights did not therefore change completely. In general, the positive outcome of the referendum met broad based international appraisal.75 The HCNM additionally reminded the Latvian government to follow his earlier suggestions to make the naturalization tests easier. Since the major step of reform had been taken and a majority of the people favoured compliance, the costs of compliance with the remaining demands became low. The outstanding reforms followed quite swiftly in January 1999, after the European Commission had demanded to proceed with the remaining reform of the naturalization procedures in the Progress Report of 1998 (European Commission 1998b) and after Hans van den Broek had indicated that it might be possible to recommend Latvia for accession negotiations thereafter.76 Having reviewed the government’s proposal, the HCNM stated that those changes would bring Latvia’s citizenship policy in line with international standards.77 Subsequently, the government changed the provisions accordingly78 and the EU concluded in the Progress Report of 1999 that Latvia then complied with all OSCE demands regarding the citizenship issue (European Commission 1999b), indicating that Latvia fulfilled the political criteria. Despite compliance with Western norms and despite the fact that Latvia then did all that European actors could demand to ensure compliance, one has to acknowledge that the problem of statelessness still persisted. In 2002, the EU Progress Report declared that still around 22 per cent of the population were non-citizens and that the number was only slowly decreasing, mainly because language learning and the language test itself constituted an obstacle for the Russian-speaking people (European Commission 2002c). The figure did not change significantly in the following years before membership and remains high even today after EU membership.

192 International Socialization in Europe Table 11.7

Conditions and compliance in Latvia (1997–99), language law

Case

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Language law, 1997–99


(high)

Language
(high) law, 1999–2000

Identification Resonance Compliance

 (low)


(high)

 (high)
(high) – – (low)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)

 (high)
(high)  (low)

Compliance

1997–99: language law As argued above, Latvia’s language law had been essentially in compliance with Western standards throughout most of the 1990s. Hence, there were no international efforts to change the laws. The Latvian language policy developed from an issue of secondary importance to a major issue in the slipstream of the citizenship issue in 1997. The LNNK/TB faction had tried to pass a more restrictive language law ever since parliament had amended the 1989 legislation in 1992. Their aim was to tighten government regulation in the private sector. The envisaged provisions would entail a stronger regime of monitoring and enforcement. Throughout the first half of the 1990s, the HCNM and the CE repeatedly argued in favour of a liberal language policy and warned Latvia that stricter laws could violate basic rights. Once in the driver’s seat in 1997, the amendment of language law became the second centrepiece of legislation for the LNNK/TB party in order to fulfil its long-standing pledge to protect the Latvian nation and its culture.79 Refraining from pursuing this goal at the current heights of power carried high political costs, because support for the party depended on corresponding action. The more the government was pressured to accept changes to citizenship law, the more pressure the nationalists felt to compensate for the political costs of compliance (and/or to save its public image) by a stricter language law. Even though the immediate costs were low in terms of security and independence, the long-term perspective of a Latvian society in which the Russian language continued to play a strong role in public and private life seemed unacceptable for the Latvian population. In October 1997, the Latvian parliament accepted a restrictive draft law in the first reading that disregarded earlier international recommendations. European ambassadors to Latvia and the OSCE’s HCNM reacted shortly thereafter, objecting to several provisions of the draft.80 Consequently, the responsible parliament committee agreed to receive the opinion of European institutions on the matter before the second reading in April 1998. In March 1998, a visiting expert group from the CE, the OSCE and the European Commission issued a negative report, criticizing the law for regulating the private sphere of actors and violating human rights standards. The experts recommended either limiting the law to the public sphere or establishing a definition

Latvia 193

of all specific situations where legitimate public interest required the mandatory knowledge of Latvian in the private sphere (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 44).81 Thereafter, the EU presidency issued a statement, declaring that improvements to the language law were needed to bring the text in line with international instruments.82 The Latvian parliament, in unison with the government, rejected the recommendations. Internal debate stalled in the parliamentary committee on culture when the debate about citizenship law and the referendum began to triage the agenda.83 Hence, a decision was delayed until after the national elections and the referendum in October 1998. Surprisingly, the EU Commission Progress Report of November 1998 mentioned the issue only in passing, with the Commission waiting for indications of how a new government would deal with the issue (European Commission 1998b). The new parliament had to reconsider the law in a repeated reading (due to parliament procedure) and again asked international organizations for advice in February 1999. Written comments on the draft circulated between European institutions and the Latvian parliament in spring (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 45). Even though the legal service of the EU issued concerns about the law regarding its compatibility with Latvia’s Europe Agreement, the right of centre coalition of PM Kristopans retained the controversial provisions.84 In this situation, the newly elected Latvian President, Vike-Freiberga, announced that she would only sign the law if it met international standards and did not impair the chance to begin membership talks with the EU.85 International actors again stepped up their efforts to influence Latvian policy makers. In particular, EU representatives started credibly to stress the conditionality of changes, by clearly linking the revision of the draft with the Union’s impending decision about the start of accession negotiations.86 In the week before parliament was about to take the decision, PM Kristopans (Latvia’s Way), attending the world economic forum at Salzburg, received clear warnings about the law.87 In a meeting at the beginning of July, the EU Presidency, ambassadors of EU countries to Latvia, and the EU Commission representative warned that the language law could damage Latvia’s chances of joining the EU (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 46).88 On his return from Salzburg, Kristopans demanded parliament put plans to adopt the language law on hold.89 In addition, FM Birkavs (Latvia’s Way) urged parliament to postpone the adoption of the law.90 When parliament did not follow these suggestions, and after it became known that the LNNK/TB had an agreement with the opposition behind the Prime Minister’s back,91 Kristopans decided to resign.92 In the midst of the crisis, a large majority of 73 deputies (against 16 with eight abstaining) voted in favour of the restrictive law.93 Subsequently, President Vike-Freiberga vetoed the law and sent it back to parliament after international actors had requested her to do so.94 However, the chances for revision were rather low, because all parties of the right of centre coalition had supported the law.

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Representing the EU presidency, the Finnish Foreign Minister, Tarja Halonen, visited the country and stated publicly at a news conference that the language law adopted was not favourable for Latvia’s desire to start accession negotiations and that it would be advisable to revise it right away.95 EU representatives continued to engage the Latvian government during the following months and the OSCE’s HCNM and CE officials again argued in favour of changes and provided expertise.96 In October, the EU Commission drafted its 1999 Regular Report on Latvia to be considered at the upcoming European Council of Helsinki, which was to decide about starting membership negotiations with Latvia. The report commented in depth on the language issue, restating previous arguments and elaborating its own view on the compatibility of the law with EU norms and the Europe Agreement. The Commission recommended starting membership negotiations with Latvia only with the provision that ‘it will be necessary to ensure that the final text of the Language law is compatible with international standards and the Europe agreement’ (European Commission 1999b). Additionally, delegation representative Gunther Weiss and the British Minister of State responsible for European Affairs, Keith Vaz, gave credibility to the demand.97 Latvia’s Way now changed course and favoured amending the law.98 On the eve of the Helsinki summit, on 9 December 1999, the Saeima finally passed a revised law.99 Parliament sanctioned the new version with a bare majority of 52 votes. The law limited language regulations in the private sphere to areas where a ‘legitimate public interest’ existed. It allowed the OSCE’s High Commissioner to state that the law was essentially in conformity with Latvia’s international obligations.100 It also met the EU Commission’s approval and allowed the EU summit at Helsinki to invite Latvia for membership talks.101 Just as in the Estonian case, Latvia finally complied with Western demands to limit the scope of the language law in an endgame situation on the eve of the Helsinki summit that was to decide about the start of membership negotiations with Latvia. The decision was a major breakthrough and all subsequent decisions were not nearly as problematic. However, international actors and the Latvian elite disagreed on what constituted a ‘legitimate public interest’. Implementation therefore remained a problem. Consultations on the issue continued until 2002 and centred on defining a list of activities and professions (Muiznieks and Kehris 2003: 49). However, HCNM Max van der Stoel stated in August 2000 that the regulations were essentially in conformity with Latvia’s international obligations.102

Results When directly compared with the Estonian case, the study on Latvia shows that low rule resonance is not an impediment to compliance. It confirms the finding that persuasion and social influence remain ineffective alone.

Latvia 195

Without a credible and tangible reward to offer, international efforts fell short of bringing about compliance. Only when linked with Latvia’s accession to Western organizations via membership conditionality, first from the CE and later from the EU, the Latvian government and parliament reluctantly moved towards concessions, and later compliance. The Latvian case study also shows that much depends on the credibility of conditionality. Only credible and urgent EU membership conditionality was able to achieve essential compliance. Again, process-tracing shows that conditionality can overcome unfavourable domestic conditions in endgame situations. Continued compliance with Western demands has been a minor problem in the citizenship case, while compliance in the language issue had to be reinforced a number of times. In essence, the costs stayed low on the citizenship issue after the national referendum in 1998, while the costs remained high on the language law issue. Hence, it seems that under less favourable conditions governments tend to search for possible escape routes to reverse the process, after the international reward has been paid. The citizenship issue is also an excellent example by which to show that compliance with Western norms does not necessarily equal problem-solving. Today, the Latvian state does everything international actors may ask for on the basis of international standards, yet statelessness remains significantly high after EU membership. The outcome contradicts the expectations of constructivist approaches. That rule legitimacy was high in the language issue but low in the citizenship issue did not matter for compliance. As in the cases of Turkey and Estonia, elite identification was constantly high and therefore cannot explain variance in compliance. However, identification may be a necessary but insufficient factor, as the change of behaviour of the strongly pro-European Latvia’s Way repeatedly indicates. A comparison between the two Baltic case studies, on the one hand, and the case studies of Belarus and Serbia, on the other, supports this finding.

Notes 1 For example in Bosnia 44 per cent of the population were Muslims, 31 per cent Serbs and 17 per cent Croats. In Macedonia the minorities accounted for 30 per cent of the population 23 per cent thereof Albanians (Brunner 1996). 2 RFE/RL Newsline, 16 October 1991 and 17 October 1991. 3 Summary of Report on a Fact-Finding Mission to Latvia, Ibrahima Fall (UN Centre for Human Rights), asked by the UN Secretary-General, November 1992 (Birckenbach 1997: 299–306). 4 RFE Newsline, 23 June 1997; RFE Newsline, 22 October 1997. 5 Guardian, 16 May 1990; ER, 26 January 1991. 6 World Bank Watch, 4 November 1991; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 25 September 1991. 7 BNS, 29 October 1997; 31 March 1998. 8 RFE/RL Newsline, 19 February 1992.

196 International Socialization in Europe 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

22

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

RFE/RL Newsline, 16 September 1993. BNS, 31 October 1995. SZ, 15 July 1994; Economist (US edition), 3 August 1996; FAZ, 18 February 1997. BNS, 13 July 1995; 29 May 1996. On the legitimacy of international demands, see Chapter 10 on Estonia. The Independent, 8 July 1993. FAZ, 4 June 1993. NZZ, 14 July 1994. BNS, 6 October 1995. St. Louis Post-Dispatch (Missouri), 23 October 1991. NZZ, 4 June 1994. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 25 September 1991; World Bank Watch, 4 November 1991; RFE/RL Newsline, 19 February 1992. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 8 July 1992; The Guardian, 29 December 1992; FAZ, 10 May 1993; CE Parliamentary Assembly Opinion no. 183 on Latvia’s application for membership in the CE (1995). BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 18 January 1993; Letter of the HCNM to the Latvian government, 6 April 1993, in http://www.osce.org/hcnm/documents. html (17 February 2006). See http://www.osce.org/hcnm/recommendations/lithuani/1993/02c1243.html. Letter of FM Andrejevs to the HCNM, 18 April 1993, in http://www.osce.org/ hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). FAZ, 4 June 1993. RFE/RL Research Report, 26 August 1994. RFE/RL Newsline, 24 September 1993; RFE/RL Newsline, 10 January 1994. The Independent, 8 June 1993; RFE/RL Newsline, 8 June 1993. The Independent, 8 June 1993. FAZ, 8 December 1993. RFE/RL Research Report, 26 August 1994; FAZ, 8 December 1993. Letter of the HCNM to Foreign Minister Andrejevs 10 December 1994, in http:// www.osce.org/hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). Letter of FM Andrejevs to Max van der Stoel 25 January 1994, in http://www.osce. org/hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). Ibid. RFE/RL Newsline, 22 June 1994. UPI, 21 June 1994; Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press, 13 July 1994. European Council at Corfu 24–25 June 1994 Presidency Conclusions, in http:// ue.eu.int/ueDocs/cms_Data/docs/pressData/en/ec/00150.EN4.htm (17 February 2006). BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 24 June 1994. RFE/RL Newsline, 25 July 1994. NYT, 24 July 1994. FAZ, 13 August 1994. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 15 September 1994. CE/PA Doc. No. 7193. BNS, 22 December 1995 BNS, 22 December 1995 BNS, 23. January 1996; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 25 January 1996; BNS, 8 October 1996; BNS, 7 April 1997; Letter of the HCNM to FM Birkavs 14 March 1996; Letter of the HCNM to FM Birkavs 28 October 1996, in http:// www.osce.org /hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006).

Latvia 197 47 Letter of the Latvian FM Birkavs to the HCNM Max van der Stoel, 22 April 1996, in http://www.osce.org/hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). 48 Letter of the Latvian FM Birkavs to the HCNM Max van der Stoel, 24 December 1996, in http://www.osce.org/hcnm/documents.html (17 February 2006). 49 BNS, 6 December 1995. 50 BNS, 3 April 1997; 4 April 1997. 51 Speech of FM Birkavs at the UN Human Rights Commission in Geneva, 2 April 1997, in http://www.mfa.gov.lv/en/news/speeches/1997/apr/3719/ (17 February 2006). 52 RFE/RL Newsline, 7 August 1997. 53 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 26 August 1997. 54 FAZ, 17 October 1997. 55 BNS, 13 December 1997. 56 RFE/RL Newsline, 2 February 1998. 57 RFE/RL Newsline, 13 February 1998. 58 RFE/RL Newsline, 23 February 1998. 59 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 19 March 1998; The Guardian, 28 March 1998; EFPB 98/050, 17 April 1998; BNS, 28 May 1998. 60 EFPB doc. 98/050, 17 April 1998. 61 BNS, 2 April 1998; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 3 April 1998; BNS, 15 April 1998. 62 RFE/RL Newsline, 10 April 1998. 63 BNS, 12 June 1998. 64 RFE/RL Newsline, 2 June 1998. 65 FAZ, 23 and 24 June 1998. 66 European Information Service European Report, 24 June 1998; BNS, 25 June 1998; BNS, 25 June 1998. 67 BNS, 10 July 1998; 15 September 1998; 30 September 1998. 68 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 8 September 1998; 23 September 1998. 69 BNS, 20 July 1998. 70 BNS, 3 September 1998; 2 October 1998. 71 BNS, 11 September 1998. 72 BNS, 28 September 1998. 73 BNS, 2 October 1998. 74 BNS, 4 October 1998. 75 SZ, 5 October 1998; FAZ, 6 October 1998. 76 RFE/RL Newsline, 5 November 1998. 77 BNS, 13 January 1998. 78 BNS, 18 January 1998. 79 RFE/RL Newsline, 23 June 1997. 80 BNS, 22 October 1997; 29 October 1997. 81 BNS, 24 March 1998. 82 Presidency of the European Union, Statement on Latvia 28 May 1998, PC-DEL/98/222. 83 BNS, 10 June 1998; BNS, 25 August 1998; BNS, 21 September 1998. 84 BNS, 18 March 1999. 85 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 22 June 1999. 86 EU officials met with Latvian PM Kristopans (BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 23 April 1999); German FM Joschka Fisher met with FM Birkavs (BNS, 8 May 1999); European Commissioner Hans van den Broek talked to FM Brikavs (BNS, 29 June 1999); the Danish FM Petersen urged politicians not to create an obstacle for Latvia’s membership negotiations (BNS, 2 July 1999).

198 International Socialization in Europe 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102

BNS, 2 July 1999; 3 July 1999; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 6 July 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 8 July 1998; FAZ, 14 July 1999; FAZ, 15 July 1999. BNS, 2 July 1999; 3 July1999; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 6 July 1999. BNS, 6 July 1999. BNS, 7 July 1999. BNS, 25 June 1999; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 30 June 1999; 7 July 1999. BNS, 5 July 1999; 8 July 1999; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 6 July 1999. RFE/RL Newsline, 7, 9 and 15 July 1999; RFE/RL Newsline, 1 September 1999. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 14 July 1999. BNS, 12 July 1999; 14 July 1999; 24 August 1999; 15 November 1999. BNS, 14 October 1999; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 17 November 1999. BNS, 27 November 1999. FAZ, 14 December 1999. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 10 December 1999. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 10 December 1999; BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 14 December 1997. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 31 August 2000.

12 Northern Cyprus

Introduction The Cyprus case study differs from other case studies: Firstly, Cyprus poses a unique challenge to the EU because the island has been de facto divided into two parts since the Turkish military intervention and subsequent occupation in 1974. It is split into a Greek-Cypriot southern part, the officially recognized ‘Republic of Cyprus’ (RoC), and a Turkish-Cypriot northern part, the ‘Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus’ (TRNC), which is recognized by Turkey only. Secondly, the EU’s conditionality with regard to Cyprus is unique, too, because it officially addresses two states: Turkey, the EU’s longest-standing associate, as well as the Republic of Cyprus (RoC). Our analysis, however, will focus on Turkey and the Turkish Cypriots (TC) as principal violators of international norms: Turkey with the invasion and partial occupation of the island’s north in 1974 and the Turkish Cypriots with their unilateral declaration of independence in 1983. In contrast, the Greek Cypriot (GC) community could not be accused of such obvious norm violations since all successive governments vocally upheld the call for a federative solution and displayed their readiness to negotiate for a settlement in diverse international settings.1 Their cooperative behaviour in turn ensured the GCs of the sympathy and legitimacy of the international community,2 while the TC side, in particular its leader Rauf Denktas¸, was viewed as obstructive to the reunification of the island and to reject all UN-brokered settlement proposals of the last 30 years.3 This led the European Council at Helsinki (December 1999) to conclude that the Greek Cypriot RoC should not be barred from joining the community merely because of TC intransigence.4 ‘Cyprus’ is an interesting deviant case in the current round of EU enlargement since the conflict has not been resolved through EU conditionality and the ‘catalyst’ of membership. On 1 May 2004, Cyprus was admitted to the community despite its internationally disputed border. 199

200 International Socialization in Europe

Conflict and norm violation The overall status quo in Cyprus – the island’s division – violates EU principles regarding established standards of legitimate statehood in Europe, the integrity and invulnerability of external borders, and the settlement of territorial disputes by peaceful means (cf. Brewin 1999b: 145). The TRNC’s secession via its unilateral declaration of independence in 1983, enabled and facilitated by the illegal invasion of Turkey and its partial occupation of Cyprus since 1974, violates international legal frameworks (Featherstone 2001: 143; Richmond 2001: 128).5 The UN’s understanding of sovereignty objects to the unilateral creation of new states by secession on the basis of self-determination – in particular, if not all relevant partners of the constituted state (here: the TC and GC) have agreed to partition or replace the existing entity – and/or if the situation resulted from the illegal use of force by a third party. Various UN resolutions as well as EU summit conclusions have therefore condemned Turkey’s occupation, the subsequent division of the island (Kramer 1987: 608), and dismissed the TRNC’s self-proclamation as illegal (Zervakis 1997: 142–3). In addition, the TRNC’s settlement policy of importing mainland Turks has come under sharp criticism (cf. Axt 2003: 29). Furthermore, Turkey’s continuing partial occupation of another European state’s territory is viewed as a constant violation of international law and European identity (Brey 1999: 112; Suvarierol 2003: 66).

International demands and conditions Ankara’s Accession Partnership Documents (APD) therefore demanded steps should be taken to ‘resolve any outstanding border disputes’ and to ‘strongly support the UN Secretary General’s efforts [in] finding a comprehensive settlement of the Cyprus problem’ prior to accession, while Nicosia was required to ‘[m]aximize efforts to support a settlement under the auspices of the UN’. The EU strongly advocated a unionist and federal solution; that is, a nondivided, reunited Cyprus Republic with a single international sovereignty and a federal government.6 Partition has been ruled out as a possible solution to the conflict as this would have legitimized Turkey’s use of force as a means to revise borders (Prodromou 1998: 9–11). According to the EU, an acceptable political solution can only be reached ‘under the aegis of the UN … with a view to creating a bi-zonal, bi-communal federation [BBF]’.7 This formula, a federation of two constituent states under a single international sovereignty (autonomous communal bi-zones similar to Switzerland or Belgium) has been constantly promoted and widely agreed upon as the best and also as the only acceptable solution to the Cyprus problem by the European community of states (Brey 1999: 116; Diez 2000: 9; Loizides 2002: 436). This ‘carefully balanced compromise’ logic also applied to the latest reunification draft in the tradition of BBF, the ‘Annan plan’,8 based on principles of territorial

Northern Cyprus 201 Table 12.1 Turkey

Until 1999 From 1999

Table 12.2 TRNC

1990–94 1994–2004

External conditions of international socialization in Northern Cyprus:

Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy


(high)
(high)

 (low)
(high)


(high)
(high)

External conditions of international socialization in Northern Cyprus:

Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy


(high)
(high)

 (low)
(high)


(high)
(high)

integrity, non-secession, and legal sovereignty. Given that these principles are key features of legitimate statehood in the international community, the legitimacy of the EU’s demands has been high. The Cyprus issue is included in the EU’s conditionality vis-à-vis Turkey because Ankara is responsible for the situation in the northern part of the island for historical reasons (invasion and partial occupation) and also because of its present material and political support to the TRNC.9 The EU assumes that Ankara, the TRNC’s principal, is able to foster a comprehensive solution on Cyprus by influencing or pressuring the TRNC’s government. But as explained in the Turkish case study, EU conditionality became credible only after the EU’s decision at Helsinki (December 1999) to grant Turkey candidate status (high credibility). From 1999 onwards, Ankara had much to lose and much to gain: the ‘carrot catalyst’ – the positive incentives for the start of accession negotiations – aimed at inducing Turkey to contribute significantly to a solution in Cyprus; the ‘stick catalyst’ (negative incentives) – functioning via the potential veto of EU member Greece and of future member RoC against Turkish accession – threatened to delay the incentives indefinitely if Turkey continued to consolidate the status quo or to cancel the membership perspective if Turkey annexed the TRNC. Therefore, the more Ankara came to value its own accession, the more likely it was that it would pressure the TRNC government into reunification with the GC – in particular, as long as the island’s accession was not yet finalized. Although the level of incentives had always been high since the Association Agreement in 1964, Ankara had no external incentive to pressure the TC into reunification before 1999 (see Turkish case study). After the membership application of the RoC in July 1990, the EU Commission confirmed that Cyprus was a European country and eligible for membership.10 Thus, the level of incentives was high. The Opinion also stated that

202 International Socialization in Europe

‘Cyprus’s integration with the Community implies a peaceful, balanced and lasting settlement of the Cyprus question … and that as soon as the prospect of a settlement is surer, the Community is ready to start the process [of accession negotiations]’. On the one hand, the credibility of conditionality for the TC was therefore high. If the TC dissolved the division together with their GC compatriots and re-established the Cyprus Republic in the form of a bi-zonal, bi-communal federation, the path to EU membership would be cleared. But the EU’s early ‘solution-before-accession’ demand vis-à-vis the whole of Cyprus meant that the TC would not be punished if they did not compromise over a solution. The credibility of punishment vis-à-vis the TC was therefore low: although a membership perspective was on the table, the TC had the bargaining power to prevent unilaterally the accession of the whole island if the GC were not prepared to consent fully to the TC bargaining position of a ‘just’ settlement. At the EU Council at Corfu ( June 1994), however, the EU changed its strategy: a solution was no longer a principled pre-condition of accession. It thereby allowed the GC-represented RoC to move on gradually with accession if they could demonstrate that they were not responsible for the lack of a settlement. The EU’s change was caused by a report of the EU’s special observer Serge Abou, who monitored the (non-)progress in the inter-communal talks, and reported that the Turkish side was responsible for the failure (cf. Zervakis 1997: 144). Thereafter, the EU – also in response to Greek pressure – decided that it could not let the TC or Turkey veto de facto the RoC application by refusing a settlement and let the GC community bear the cost of nonaccession (Loizides 2002: 432; Redmond 1997: 97) if the GC continued with their efforts to negotiate in good faith. As a consequence, the Corfu Council in June 1994 stated that ‘the next phase of enlargement [membership negotiations] … will involve Cyprus’ (Nugent 2000: 139). Accordingly, the decision of the EU Council at Helsinki (December 1999), that ‘all relevant factors would be taken into account’ if the conflict remained unsolved until the end of the membership negotiations, does not represent a change in credibility of conditionality but reconfirms the EU’s altered strategy after Corfu 1994; namely, that any new phase of enlargement (or institutional advancement) – this time ‘accession’ – involved Cyprus.

Domestic conditions TRNC Identification of the TC community with Europe is high: in a survey on the northern part of the island, 88 per cent of the TC supported the accession of their community to the EU and 77 per cent emphasized their strong European identity.11 Although TC support to pan-Turkism was also high (Choisi 1997: 27–8), it was not at the expense of ‘Europe’, since all parties in the TRNC’s parliament support the goal of EU membership.

Northern Cyprus 203

The resonance of the EU’s demand of a peaceful multilateral conflict resolution and the (re)establishment of a BBF depends on the strength of a common Cypriot identity (Loizides 2002: 431; Stavrinides 1999: 64) among the parties of the TC. BBF resonates with a common pan-Cypriot identity; that is, a civic patriotism and non-ethnic ‘mélange culture’ (Costantinou and Papadakis 2002: 83; Polat 2002: 106). In contrast, resonance is low for parties with a Turkish ethnic identity (Turkocentrism) and the view of Cyprus as a ‘failed state’, inter-communal antipathy, ethnic hatred, and civil war (Costantinou and Papadakis 2002: 83; Tocci 2000: 9). Those legacies emphasize instead the existence of two states and two sovereign peoples on the island and therefore advocate maintaining separate statehood at least in the form of a confederation or – even worse – advocate integration into Turkey. The leftist parties (CTP, TKP) tolerate common statehood with certain reservations, while the traditional nationalist parties of the right (UBP, DP) are strongly opposed to it. Although all four parties support the idea of physical separation (bi-zone) from the GC (Güven-Lisaniler and Rodriguez 2002: 186, 201),12 the crux of the matter is whether they would like to have the concept realized in a common Cypriot or single TC state. UBP is clearly Turkocentrist and BBF resonates little with the party’s principled beliefs. Its party programme states that the ‘Turkish Cypriot people are an indivisible part of the Turkish [rather than Cypriot] nation. … The relation with Turkey, as always, will develop based on brotherhood and will be given priority’ (UBP, quoted in GüvenLisaniler and Rodriguez 2002: 183). DP, too, is Turkocentrist (low resonance): It only supports EU accession on condition that Turkey accedes simultaneously (Yurek 2002: 10). The leftist opposition parties are pro-settlement (Richter 1999: 152): CTP and TKP support reunification in a federal state; that is, the creation of a BBF (high resonance). Both have accused President Denktas¸ (UBP) of his ‘intransigent’ stance on the intercommunal negotiations. They expressed serious concerns about the influx of Anatolian settlers, which they consider ‘diluting the Cypriotness of society in the north’ (Bahçeli 1999: 113, 115), and wanted to see Turkey’s influence limited (Bahçeli 1999: 116). TKP’s leader Mustafa Akinci is known as a strong supporter of bi-communal activities (Costantinou and Papadakis 2002: 86, 96). CTP is the only party that was founded before the division (1970) and is a front-runner in bi-communal contacts (Featherstone 2001: 147; Costantinou and Papadakis 2002: 86). It is most outspokenly pan-Cypriot (Güven-Lisaniler and Rodriguez 2002: 187). In 1998, its leader, Mehmet Ali Talat, publicly declared himself a ‘Cypriot patriot’ rather than a ‘Turkish nationalist’ and explained that Turkish Cypriots’ interests and Turkish interests did not always coincide (Polat 2002: 107). The long-standing president of the TRNC was Rauf Denktas¸, the founder of UBP, DP, and the former TC guerrilla organization TMT. Moreover, he has represented the TC community’s interests in all bilateral negotiations since 1974. As a staunch supporter of ‘Turkonationalism’,13 the resonance of BBF is low for Denktas¸. He aims at the recognition of the TRNC as an independent

204 International Socialization in Europe

and sovereign state or, alternatively, at the final integration of the TRNC into ‘motherland’ Turkey (Tocci 2002: 127–8).14 Domestic power costs Although internationally not recognized, the TRNC is de facto sovereign. Domestic power costs of a reunification by BBF therefore entail the end of TRNC autonomy (from the GC majority). Since 1974, the conservative-right forces (DP, UBP and Denktas¸) have monopolized the government (Axt 2001: 9; Costantinou and Papadakis 2002: 86). For them, the domestic power costs of a BBF-settlement are very high as compliance poses a threat to their traditional power base. In a bi-communal agreement, Denktas¸ and the rightist TRNC elite would lose their embosomed privileges and their political autonomy guaranteed by the de facto statehood and the large influx of settlers from the Turkish mainland (Tocci 2000: 3). The co-governance procedures and shared sovereignty within a BBF would limit the TRNC elite’s political autonomy and hinder them in continuing their non-transparent ‘pasha politics’ to gather political support. The current ruling practice is based on the extension of the Turkish patronage system; that is, distribution of favours (for example, employment in state-owned economic enterprises) and monetary incentives as well as ground certificates to the Anatolian settlers in return for political support (Axt 2001: 9; Richter 2001: 39; Ugur 1999: 197).15 An agreement would, to a great extent, wipe out the rightist parties’ constituency: the Turkish settlers, approximately 40 to 60 per cent of the TRNC’s population (Güven-Lisaniler and Rodriguez 2002: 188; Richter 1999: 152).16 In the absence of international recognition of the TRNC and confederation, the consolidation of the status quo (de facto sovereignty) represented the best option for avoiding domestic power costs. The non-solution of the issue, the reference to the external threat and the continuous discourse of a securitized conflict, stabilized the pseudo-state structure as well as the ruling elite’s claim to leadership, and legitimized the politics of ‘Turkification’ (Choisi 1997: 32; Tocci 2000: 11). In order to survive politically, the current TC elite crucially depended on political separation from the GC (Choisi 1997: 31) as well as the continuous residence, citizenship, and influx of Turkish settlers. Although compliance with BBF would also entail the cost of losing the de facto sovereign governance of their own TC territory, the leftist opposition parties’ ability to come to power was only theoretical and was limited by the structural advantages of the rightist parties. Rather, as representatives of the structural, indigenous TC minority, the leftist forces’ likelihood to rule was closely linked with a bi-communal agreement and the Anatolian settlers’ return to Turkey. This would significantly increase their chances of coming to power in the TC component state in a reunited Cyprus. Despite all those obstacles, the leftist forces succeeded in securing the PM post in December 2003 (see below). However, as they failed to secure a sufficient majority for themselves, domestic power costs were not low but high since the pro-BBF forces under PM

Northern Cyprus 205 Table 12.3

Domestic conditions in the TRNC Costs

Identity

Resonance

Denktas¸ regime (1974 to 2003)

 (very high)


(high)

 (low)

Talat government (from Dec. 2003 onwards); Soyer government (from April 2005 onwards)

 (high)


(high)

 (reduced)

Mehmet Ali Talat still needed the support of its junior coalition partner, the rightist DP, to stay in power. After early parliamentary elections in February 2005 and regular presidential elections in April 2005, the leftist and prounionist CTP had considerably increased its electoral support, with Talat gaining the Presidency in the first round, but CTP once again failed to secure the absolute majority of seats in parliament. Accordingly, the resonance of the so-called ‘communal reconciliation and settlement government’ was not high but reduced because it encompassed Serdar Denktas¸’s DP as the junior coalition partner. Turkey As already illustrated in the Turkish case study, Turkey’s identification with the EU is high. Regarding resonance, however, ‘Cyprus’ is a nationalist issue par excellence, which deeply touches the national sensitivities and pride of the people as well as the Kemalist elite in Turkey (Tsakonas 2001: 23). The concern for Ottoman relatives in general and the TC ‘brothers’ in Cyprus in particular is traditionally strong (Tachau 1959; Tocci 2001: 13). Ankara still feels some kind of responsibility to defend their interests (Kushner 1997: 227–9) and Cyprus is regarded as an unalienable part of the Turkish motherland. The Cyprus invasion has been justified as a legitimate ‘peace operation’, which saved the TC kinsmen from Greek usurpation. Correspondingly, reunification with the southern Greek is perceived as an ‘abandonment’ of TC kinsmen to ‘GC oppression’. All Kemalist parties from the nationalist right (MHP) to the centre (DYP) and left (DSP and CHP) share this nationalist and ‘hawkish’ attitude towards Cyprus (Kazan 2002: 60; Önis¸ 2001: 40). The general consensus is that the solution of the Cyprus issue lies in the acceptance of the ‘realities’; that is, recognition of the status quo. Ever since, Ankara has promoted TRNC sovereignty (Kramer 1997: 24–5). MHP (Bahçeli) has openly declared its vocal support to Rauf Denktas¸ ‘until the end’ (Avçi 2003: 159). To compromise over Cyprus only by inches is regarded as ‘national treason’ (Kramer 2002c: 4). Similar opinions are recorded of Demirel (DYP) and Ecevit (DSP), the PM who ordered Turkey’s intervention in 1974 (Loizides 2002; Tocci 2002: 105). The CHP – although very progressive with regard to minority rights or civilian-democratic

206 International Socialization in Europe

control of the military – has declared that concessions on Cyprus, even in exchange for EU rewards, were not acceptable.17 ANAP’s leader Mesut Yilmaz was less reserved and demanded a more pro-active role for Turkey to contribute to a solution and asked Denktas¸ to show a more flexible attitude and the willingness to compromise (Avçi 2003: 160; Önis¸ 2003: 25). In contrast with the low resonance of the former parties, ANAP’s resonance is therefore reduced; for example, its founder Turgut Özal was in favour of a Cyprus settlement in order to smooth the way of Turkey’s own accession (Dodd 1999: 136–9). Compared to the Kemalist parties, AKP’s attitude is different from the Turkish mainstream and is characterized by neutral resonance.18 The party has declared support for the efforts of the UN and has publicly stated that it does not regard the continuation of the division as desirable. Unlike previous governments, AKP also rejected annexing northern Cyprus.19 Its party programme of 2001 advocates a ‘Belgian solution’; that is, a near-BBF solution, to the Cyprus problem, which is totally contrary to Turkey’s Cyprus policy of the last 30 years. Since 1974, no government has ever supported the reunification of Cyprus.20 Domestic power costs Cyprus is of enormous political importance to any government in Ankara (Tachau 1959: 263, 265). The island is an issue of overriding national interest for the large majority of the Turkish population as well as for important domestic players in Turkey: the Kemalist bureaucracy and – above all – the Turkish Armed Forces (TAF). Cyprus is of immense strategic significance for the military establishment and the emotionalized Turkish public would never tolerate ‘sacrificing kinsfolk’ – even in return for closer ties with Europe (Cornell 2001: 6–7; Kramer 2005: 27–8). Domestic power costs for any government in Ankara are therefore high and involve either the withdrawal of support by the public in the next election, the threat of its coalition partner to leave the government, or encounter serious tension regarding the armed forces under the banner of Turkey’s national security (cf. Adamson 2001: 10–13; Goltz and Kramer 2002: 8; Wood 1999: 107). The TAF regard Cyprus as a vital national concern necessary to ensure Turkey’s strategic position in the eastern Mediterranean and essential for the security of the heartland Anatolia – in particular vis-à-vis its regional rival Greece (cf. Kazan 2002: 58; Oguzlu 2003: 291).21 Since 1974, a strong Turkish military force of 35,000 Turkish soldiers and 110,000 Anatolian settlers has ensured Turkey’s strategic presence on Cyprus.22 With the fading of the conflict in Cyprus and the subsiding of the PKK’s armed struggle in Anatolia’s Kurdish south-east – the army’s two main operation areas – the armed forces’ raison d’être (and its budget) has been diminishing (cf. Tsakonas 2001: 24). In order to guarantee its continuous importance and influence in Turkish domestic politics, the armed forces are therefore interested in keeping the Cyprus conflict ‘intact’.

Northern Cyprus 207 Table 12.4

Domestic conditions in Turkey

Kemalist Governments (1987–Nov. 2002) AKP Government (from Nov. 2002 onwards)

Costs

Identity

Resonance

 (high)
(low)


(high)
(high)

 (low)
(neutral)

Process and outcome One particularity of the Cyprus case study is that domestic conditions remained stable for quite a long time, which largely explains the non-compliance in the Cyprus issue. Domestic conditions on behalf of the two Turkish sides have changed only recently as a result of government changes – in January 2004 in the TRNC and in November 2002 in Turkey. At the end of the day, compliance was therefore successful on an individual basis, but overall occurred too late; that is, after the accession of the RoC to the EU. Phase 1 (1987–1999) After Turkey had submitted its application (April 1987), the EC Commission responded negatively in December 1989 and announced that enlargement decisions would be postponed until after the Maastricht Treaty (1992). It further warned that Cyprus itself, as well as the unresolved problems with Greece in the Aegean, constituted a stumbling block for Turkey’s membership aspirations, which, however, was quickly rejected by Ankara (Ugur 1999: 195).23 At this stage, ‘Cyprus’ was not perceived as a condition nor was EC membership regarded as outweighing the strategic benefits for Cyprus. Turkey’s position did not change with the RoC application for membership on 4 July 1990, although the first EC Council summit after the GC application (Dublin 1990) declared that future EC relations with Turkey depended on Ankara adopting a more cooperative stance on the Cyprus issue (Park 2000: 34). While Rauf Denktas¸ and Turkey regarded the (GC) request ‘null and void’ as well as ‘illegal [because] the Greek Cypriots do not have the right to request admission on behalf of the Turkish Cypriots’,24 the Commission’s Opinion of 30 July 1993 responded quite favourably and accepted the application’s ‘eligibility’ in principle. However, it also declared that the division was an obstacle to accession and announced that negotiations could only begin ‘as soon as the prospect of a settlement is surer’ (Avery and Cameron 1999: 96).25 As a consequence of the community’s positive opinion on Cyprus, TC leader Rauf Denktas¸ withdrew from UN negotiations.26 At the Corfu European Council in June 1994, the EU stated that ‘the next phase of enlargement … will involve Cyprus’ and had thereby dropped its ‘solution as a precondition’ strategy for the first time (Friis 2002: 25; cf. Nugent 2000: 139).27 The reason was twofold: first, EU member Greece had

208 International Socialization in Europe Table 12.5 Case

Conditions and compliance in Cyprus (1987–99)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Turkey
(high) TRNC


(high)

Identity

Resonance

Compliance

 (low)


(high)

 (high)


(high)

 (low)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)

 (very high)


(high)

 (low)

Noncompliance

threatened to veto the accession of the former EFTA members (Austria, Sweden, Finland) if the precondition clause were to be included (Dembinski 2001: 34). Second, Serge Abou, the EU’s neutral monitor of the peace talks, reported that the TC objected to efforts to reach a settlement. EU Commissioner for External Affairs, Hans van den Broek, then stated that the EU could not hold its policy decisions, as well as the European future of Cyprus, ‘hostage’ to Turkey (Emiliou 1997: 127). Two months after Corfu, the TRNC government under Denktas¸ renounced all past commitments to a federal solution and demanded once again that direct negotiations should be based on a state-to-state basis. In March 1995, Greece used the EU’s Customs Union (CU) agreement with Turkey to build up additional pressure to get the RoC on the track to accession negotiations. Greek PM Papandreou stated that Greece would lift its veto on the CU if Cyprus was guaranteed the start of membership negotiations after Amsterdam 1997 (Friis 2002: 26; Zervakis 1997: 145). Although some EU members, France in particular, still objected to advancing the institutional relationship with Cyprus, and possibly importing a territorial conflict to the EU (Dembinski 2001: 34, 37),28 Greece was able to pressure the other 14 members into accepting its position.29 The CU deal promised Turkey considerable aid. Disbursement, however, was vetoed by Greece because of the Kardak/Imia crises in January 1996 (Tsakonas 2001: 17).30 All this supported Ankara’s impression that, whatever it did, it would not be rewarded by the EU. The ‘EU’s linkage policy’ (Ugur 1999: 192) also failed because it still had not delivered a credible accession commitment to Turkey – the CU was a substitute rather than a stepping stone to accession. Ankara, therefore, simply did not regard itself as a subject to conditionality: a few hours after the Turkish government had signed the agreement, Turkish FM Karayalcin issued a warning that Turkey would ‘integrate’ the TRNC if Cyprus became an EU member in part or as a whole (Ugur 1999: 192).31 Again, domestic power costs were of primary concern: the opposition parties ANAP, WP, and DSP as well as the national press blamed PM Çiller (DYP) for having ‘sold Cyprus’ (Dodd 1999: 140). To ease tempers, Turkey and the TRNC signed a joint declaration containing a security guarantee and the establishment of a trade and customs union on 28 December 1995 – three days ahead of the implementation of the EU-Turkey CU on 1 January 1996 (Bag˘ci 1997: 159–60). In July 1997, the Commission announced in its ‘Agenda 2000’ that Cyprus should be considered among the first group of states to start accession

Northern Cyprus 209

negotiations (cf. Maresceau 2001: 5). Turkey felt discriminated against and disappointed once more. On 16 August 1997, exactly one month after Agenda 2000, the Turkey-TRNC association council signed a joint declaration with the aim of a partial integration of Northern Cyprus into Turkey32 and declared the two parties’ intention of simultaneous accession to the EU (Plattner 1999: 116; Suvarierol 2003: 59). Once again, Denktas¸ let the peace talks collapse in September 1997. Ever since the TC has made the resumption of ‘state-to-state’ (instead of inter-communal) talks conditional upon prior recognition of the TRNC and upon the freezing of accession negotiations with the RoC (Richter 1999: 154; Wood 1999: 105). At the Luxembourg European Council of December 1997, the EU confirmed that the RoC would start negotiations in March 1998, while Turkey’s application was crossed off the list of participants for the coming two rounds of eastern and south-eastern enlargement. The Conclusions of the Luxembourg Council – ‘accession negotiations would contribute positively to the search for a political solution to the Cyprus problem’ – sounded rather ironic in face of the following political reactions. The ‘humiliation’ led to an almost total breakdown of Turkey–EU relations and it certainly accelerated Turkey’s noncompliance with regard to Cyprus (Richter 1999: 153): Ankara fully backed the TC position on prior recognition and confederation (Brewin 1999a: 156) and suspended its political dialogue with the EU (Wood 1999: 105; Yesilada and Sozen 2002: 277). When the EU formally opened accession negotiations with the RoC (30 March 1998), Ankara and Lefkos¸a signed a ‘Structural and Functional Cooperation Protocol’; that is, the establishment of a joint economic union providing for full Turkish annexation of northern Cyprus at the time of RoC accession (Brey 1999: 115; Prodromou 1998: 7). It is small wonder that the stick of external punishment, the delay of Turkey’s candidacy at Luxembourg, was not credible since at that time Turkey did not have a real prospect of joining the Union in any case (cf. Larrabee 1998: 26). The analysis of this phase is straightforward: with negative domestic conditions in both countries (Turkey, TRNC) and a non-credible accession prospect for Turkey, the EU could not expect to exert any leverage to promote compliance. Phase 2 (1999–2002) With the change of government in Greece and the appointment of FM George Papandreou in 1999, Greece’s attitude towards EU-Turkey relations became more cooperative (Dembinski 2001: 39). On 13 November 1999, Papandreou declared in the UN that Greece would actively support Turkey’s way into the EU (Reuter 2000: 48–9). Although Greece had changed its strategic position on the basis that its national interest could be implemented more effectively by means of cooperation rather than confrontation (Dembinski 2001: 41–2), this did not mean, however, that Greece would give up its strong support to RoC membership.

210 International Socialization in Europe Table 12.6

Conditions and compliance in Turkey (1999–2002)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identity

Resonance

Compliance

Turkey
(high)


(high)


(high)

 (high)


(high)

 (low)

Noncompliance


(high)


(high)


(high)

 (very high)


(high)

 (low)

Noncompliance

TRNC

At the European Council at Helsinki 1999, Greece accepted Turkey’s candidate status in exchange for Turkey’s commitment to solve its territorial disputes with Greece before the International Court of Justice in 2004 and for dropping the ‘solution-beforeaccession’ condition of the Cyprus candidacy (Suvarierol 2003: 63–4).33 In official terms, the EU concluded that if a solution was not found by the time of accession ‘all relevant factors’ would be taken into account, which reconfirmed its decisions made in Corfu in 1994 – the continuous obstructive behaviour of the Turkish side did not give any reason to change its strategy. It was much more important, however, that Helsinki reduced the uncertainty of Turkey’s membership perspectives by welcoming it as a candidate state destined to join the Union on the basis of the same criteria as applied to the other candidate states. The Accession Partnership Document of 2001 demanded of Turkey to ‘maximize efforts to support a settlement [in Cyprus] under the auspices of the UN’ as a short-term priority (APD 2001). Günter Verheugen, however, also increased the TRNC’s disincentives by stating that Northern Cyprus would not be allowed to accede simultaneously with Turkey or as a part of Turkey at a later point in time.34 Given the low resonance and high domestic power costs of a BBF, Turkey’s rhetoric and behaviour did not change despite positive values for external conditions. PM Ecevit declared: ‘When we were taking steps toward candidate status, we clearly stated that we shall make no concession on Cyprus. … There are two independent states here’ (cited in Richter 2001: 35; cf. Wallace 2002: 5).35 In November 2000, Denktas¸ – with Ecevit’s blessing – announced that he would no longer attend talks (Richter 2001: 36; Yesilada and Sozen 2002: 269). Ankara’s National Programme for the Adoption of the Acquis (NPAA) on 20 March 2001 did not address the Cyprus issue at all, which remained ‘sacred’ for the low-resonance three-party government.36 In addition, domestic power costs were high because the general staff backed Denktas¸’s positions twice in public, in January and May 2001 in order to prevent any ‘concessions’ by the politicians in Ankara to the EU (Richter 2001: 37; Tsakonas 2001: 24, fn. 101). Although in October 2001 reforms in other fields were carried out, Ankara did not give any indication that it intended to comply with the EU’s conditions regarding Cyprus (Ugur 2003: 172). On 27 June 2001, FM Ismael Cem even spoke about the possibility of annexing northern

Northern Cyprus 211

Cyprus and warned the EU that Ankara would not sacrifice the TRNC to its own membership.37 In September, Denktas¸ withdrew from the sixth round of the New York proximity talks. On the other hand, there was some evidence that EU conditionality had begun to work. First, in the TRNC the increasing economic decline (due to the economic embargo) and import of Turkish monetary inflation induced 6000 Turkish Cypriots to demonstrate in support of EU accession, shouting anti-Denktas¸ and anti-Turkey slogans ( July 2001). This could be interpreted as a first sign of early awareness that de facto sovereignty was not worth international isolation and poverty. Second, in December 2001, the UK and the US worked out a formula with Turkey that promised that the ESDP’s Rapid Reaction Force would not come into effect in Cyprus and in the Aegean. One day later (4 December 2001), Denktas¸ and Clerides surprisingly met face-to-face for the first time after two years – the initiative had been taken by Denktas¸ (Avçi 2002: 101; Oguzlu 2002: 600). The two leaders agreed upon direct talks starting in mid-January 2002 and the restrictions on bi-communal contacts became gradually relaxed. At the Seville European Council (June 2002), the EU welcomed Turkey’s recent reforms and announced that – depending on the Commission’s report in October – the EU Council might consider the start of Turkey’s next phase of accession.38 In conclusion, the period displayed an interesting dichotomy: the unfavourable domestic conditions contrast sharply with the extremely favourable external conditions. Compliance began to progress, but did not move beyond concessions because domestic conditions remained negative. Phase 3 (2002–03) November and December 2002 saw a dramatic increase in action on Cyprus. First, as a result of the general elections in Turkey on 3 November, the government in Ankara changed: AKP formed a single party government, which held an ideologically uncommitted and more flexible position on the Cyprus question (neutral resonance). A few days after the election victory, Turkey’s designated PM and AKP leader Erdog˘an stated that he favoured a ‘Belgian solution’ to the Cyprus problem and demanded Denktas¸ to be more prepared to compromise.39 Turkey’s ‘interim’ PM Gül (AKP) declared: ‘What sovereignty are we talking about here? The KKTC [TRNC in Turkish] was not recognized by a single state – it could not export even a box of oranges.’40 Second, the UN and the EU aimed at dealing with Cyprus in good time before the EU Council at Copenhagen (12 December 2002), because this meeting would finally decide on the accession of the candidates after accession negotiations had been concluded. Kofi Annan presented the first version of his ‘Plan for a Comprehensive Settlement’ on 11 November – eight days after the Turkish general elections – and a second, revised version on 10 December, two days before the Copenhagen summit (Axt 2003: 67–9). The plan was a revision of the well-known BBF draft and guaranteed both communities their own territory, government, and bureaucracy (bi-communality), which meant that the

212 International Socialization in Europe

Turkish Cypriots remained in the majority in their settlement area (bi-zonality).41 It is widely agreed that the plan was fairly balanced and the ‘best-ever settlement plan’ the TC was granted by the international community (Kramer 2002d: 2; Reuter 2003: 23, 36).42 While Denktas¸ declared that the Annan plan ‘contains pitfalls big enough to wipe out the Turkish Cypriots’,43 Erdog˘an commented ‘the UN plan is not altogether rejectable [but contains] positive and negative aspects … we cannot look at it through the lenses of 40 years ago’.44 Nonetheless, in the midafternoon of 13 December, the TRNC’s FM Tahsin Ertug˘ruloglu (UBP) rejected the plan. The EU Council concluded: ‘[A]ccession negotiations have been completed … Cyprus will be admitted as a new Member State to the European Union … the application of the acquis to the northern part of the island shall be suspended.’ But the EU upheld conditionality: ‘The European Council believes that there is a unique opportunity to reach a settlement in the coming weeks and urges the leaders of the Greek and Turkish Cypriot communities to seize this opportunity.’45 The new deadline for negotiations was then set to 11 March 2003 – well in advance of the signing of the accession treaty with the RoC in May 2003. Ankara did not hide its frustration over the TC and confirmed that Turkey would not ‘resign from joining the EU’ because of Cyprus and that it ‘will continue to exert efforts for a solution of the Cyprus issue with full openness and determination’.46 Although domestic conditions for compliance in Ankara had become more favourable, domestic costs of continuous non-compliance in the TRNC were not yet high enough to let Denktas¸ consent to the Annan plan. However, the TRNC’s distressing economic situation, out of which only EU membership seemed to promise a way, began to mount open social dissent. On 26 December 2002, 30,000 out of the 180,000 Turkish Cypriots demonstrated peacefully for reunification and acceptance of the Annan Plan, EU accession, and demanded that Denktas¸ retreat from office.47 The number rose to 70,000 TC demonstrating again on 28 February 2003.48 On 7 March 2003 – four days ahead of the deadline to commit himself to a referendum of the Annan plan on 11 March 2003 – Denktas¸ nonetheless declared that the TRNC government was not legitimated to renounce Turkey’s international guarantor rights as a result of a TC plebiscite. To reduce the probability of a violent escalation of the protests, he had assured himself of the support of the Turkish army.49 Later, Denktas¸ refused to submit the Annan plan to a referendum, rejecting it as ‘gross treason against Turkey’.50 In sum, domestic power costs were still high enough to withhold the AKP from fully implementing the Cyprus policy reflected in its election manifesto and, effectively, to pressure Denktas¸ into compliance.51 At the time of the Copenhagen Council, AKP had been in power for only two weeks and was rather inexperienced in foreign policy. Its strong leader Erdog˘an had not yet been elected as PM and the national and international agenda was dominated

Northern Cyprus 213

˘an wanted to get parliamentary approval for the staby the war in Iraq. Erdog tioning of US troops, which would award Turkey with 26 billion USD, and to gain a parliamentary mandate in the re-election in the Siirt district on 11 March ˘an could neither afford any unpopular 2003. Under these circumstances, Erdog concessions regarding the nationalist issue par excellence nor risk confrontation with the army (Tzermakis 2003: 50).52 While unfavourable domestic power costs had again led to a breakdown of the negotiations before the RoC signed the accession treaty in Athens, PM Erdog an pledged to launch a new initiative.53 Although the UN broke up its mission of good offices in Cyprus,54 the EU Commission ‘encourage[d] all parties concerned, in particular Turkey [my emphasis], to strive to achieve a settlement’.55 Günter Verheugen clearly indicated that 1 May 2004 could be seen as the last and final deadline’.56 The Greek presidency pointed out the consequences of noncompliance: ‘The Green Line dividing Nicosia blocks Ankara’s road to Brussels … [T]here is a new deadline … in 2004 that is between Cyprus becoming an active EU member and Turkey’s application for candidacy.’57 After the RoC signed the accession treaty on 16 April 2003, the frustration level of Turkish-Cypriot civil society increased remarkably. In view of the mass protests earlier, which came as a shock to the Denktas¸ regime, the government took ‘pre-emptive action’ to ease domestic pressure and opened the border to the south on 21 April 2003.58 This move deflected attention from its responsibility for the collapse of the Annan plan.59 At the same time, however, it unmasked the dominant legitimation strategy of the TC’s power elite: despite the freedom of movement, no member of the ‘other’ community was threatened or attacked. Rather, people welcomed each other ‘happily’, and the general atmosphere was generally described as quite ‘relaxed’, ‘friendly and peaceful’.60 In the meantime (May to December 2003), AKP began to work hard to get rid of the army’s as well as Denktas¸’s domestic influence. With its second reform package in July 2003, the government reformed the all-pervasive NSC and thereby curbed the political influence of the armed forces significantly (see Chapter 7). Simultaneously, AKP vocally began to support the proponents of peaceful settlement: Gül declared that the Annan plan was a ‘satisfactory text’ – whatever Denktas¸ thought about it – and Erdog an stated that Ankara respected ‘the will of the Turkish Cypriot people’ and that it supported the resumption of new peace talks on the basis of Kofi Annan’s plan.61 In conclusion, this phase again confirms the primacy of domestic conditions: in Turkey’s case, the increasingly favourable domestic conditions – supported by positive external conditions – induced Ankara gradually towards compliance. In the TRNC’s case, however, costs were still very high for the government and resonance was very low. Although external conditions were as favourable as for the Turkish government, these domestic obstacles blocked compliance.

214 International Socialization in Europe Table 12.7

Conditions and compliance in Cyprus (2002–03)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs

Identity

Resonance

Compliance

Turkey
(high)


(high)


(high)


(low)


(high)


(neutral)

Compliance


(high)


(high)


(high)

 (very high)


(high)

 (low)

Noncompliance

Identity

Resonance

Compliance


(high)
(high)


(neutral) Compliance  (reduced) Compliance

TRNC

Table 12.8

Conditions and compliance in Cyprus (2003–04)

Incentives Credibility Legitimacy Costs Turkey
(high) TRNC
(high)


(high)
(high)


(high)
(high)


(low)  (high)

Phase 4 (2003–04) The TRNC’s parliamentary election on 14 December 2003 had only one central topic: reunification based on the Annan plan and simultaneous EU accession.62 The leftist CTP (Talat) and BDH (Akinci, former TKP) – the proBBF and pro-EU camp – gained the majority of the votes (48.3 per cent) but not the majority of the seats (CTP 19 seats and BDH six seats). With a total of 45.3 per cent of the votes, the conservative bloc also won 25 of the 50 seats (UBP 18 seats and DP seven seats).63 The north was in deadlock, and the public mandate to implement a peace agreement and comply with BBF was insufficient.64 Despite the establishment of a ‘communal reconciliation and settlement government’ by the first leftist PM Talat (CTP) in coalition with Serdar Denktas¸’ DP (Rauf Denktas¸’s son) holding 26 out of 50 seats in parliament – in addition to Akinci’s BDH expressing tacit support of the government – domestic conditions remained negative on the whole:65 resonance was reduced while domestic power costs were high.66 Although Ankara’s strategy in the TRNC had not been completely successful, PM Erdog an was not prepared to sacrifice Turkey’s EU ambitions on behalf of Denktas¸’s intransigence. Given the TRNC’s material dependence on Turkey, he forced Denktas¸ – still the influential President of the TRNC – to propose a road map for new talks in order to solve the problem before Cyprus’s accession to the EU.67 Both communities accepted that if they could not find a compromise, Kofi Annan was allowed to ‘fill in the final blanks’. In the meantime, AKP convincingly won the Turkish local elections (55 of 81 municipalities) and increased its nationwide support to 45 per cent, which further eased domestic pressure (and power costs) and entitled it to push the policy it wanted on Cyprus.68 In the following talks at Bürgenstock (Switzerland) starting on 24 March 2004, the TRNC was represented by PM Talat and FM Serdar Denktas¸ instead of President Rauf Denktas¸.69 In the end, both sides were again unable to agree. The TC declared their acceptance of Annan’s

Northern Cyprus 215

revised plan, whereas the GC team refused to sign it.70 But both sides accepted submission of the plan to separate referenda in both parts of the island on 24 April 2004. The referendum resulted in a convincing 65 per cent approval of the plan in the TC area, indicating compliance.71 Thus, the conditional incentive of EU membership finally worked in Northern Cyprus.72 It also worked with regard to Turkey, whose pro-European AKP government consented to the Annan plan to clear its own path to EU accession. EU Commissioner Verheugen praised Turkey’s ‘constructive and cooperative role in the negotiations [at Bürgenstock]73 and declared that the Turkish government had convincingly demonstrated ‘its willingness and ability’ to fulfil the political criteria of accession [my translation].74 The assessment of this last phase is hardly surprising: The more favourable domestic conditions facilitated compliance with BBF. We may also conclude that EU conditionality effectively worked by making a detour via Ankara. Epilogue (2004–05) Despite the positive result of the referendum in the Turkish Community, 76 per cent of the Greek Community rejected the Annan plan in the southern part of the island.75 The Cypriot case thus teaches a clear lesson: EU conditionality does not work without the credibility of the threat of exclusion. The Greek Cypriots’ willingness to share their power with their TC compatriots had never been truly tested because the rightist Denktas¸ regime blocked all efforts of reconciliation following the division of the island. The Greek Cypriots were therefore easily able to uphold their rhetorical support to BBF, while the international community blamed Denktas¸, who never made a big secret of his intransigent stance and his preference for segregation and autonomy. EU conditionality vis-à-vis the Greek Community was unlikely to be fully effective from the beginning given Greece’s membership in the EU. Athens frequently threatened to use its veto (for example, against EF TA or eastern enlargement) if Brussels did not proceed with the RoC application as planned in Athens and Nicosia. With the EU accession treaty signed on 16 April 2003, the GreekCypriot side finally secured the reward of membership, which allowed them to enter the EU without having to compromise over a future settlement with the Turkish Cypriots. Since then, the new government under President Papadopoulos has openly and deliberately rejected the UN compromise, intending to negotiate a better deal after EU accession without having to make unpleasant ‘concessions’ to the TC and by utilizing the veto card against Turkey’s accession (cf. Kramer and Hein 2005: 3–5). Although Günter Verheugen declared that he personally felt ‘cheated’76 by the GC government, he was nonetheless convinced that the EU’s Cyprus strategy had not failed: ‘Why should the Europeans be responsible for the Greek Cypriots’ historical mistake in pursuing short-term interests?’77 Ultimately, the accession of Cyprus to the EU is overshadowed by the fact that the side that voted for ‘peace and reconciliation’, the Turkish Cypriots,

216 International Socialization in Europe

was punished with non-accession, while the side that rejected the solution, the Greek Cypriots, was rewarded with accession.78 Domestic conditions in the TRNC further improved in spring 2005, when PM Talat and his party CTP convincingly won the presidential and the early parliamentary elections (Kramer and Hein 2005: 1–2).79 In order to reward the TC for their commitment to peace and Europe, the EU Commission announced in April 2004 the distribution of 259 million Euro aid directly to the TC and allowed them to export their goods (mainly citrus fruits, fish, and minerals) directly.80 The implementation of the EU directive, however, was once again vetoed by the President of the RoC.81

Results The theoretical assessment of the Cyprus case shows once more that the socialconstructivist variables identification and rule legitimacy cannot explain compliance. With regard to domestic power costs and resonance, the situation is more difficult since in the TRNC as well as in Turkey, the governments’ positions were both characterized by high power costs and low resonance for nearly 30 years. But even after Turkey (November 2002, AKP) and the TRNC (December 2003, CTP/DP) were governed by parties with higher resonance, compliance came into effect only after the domestic costs situation had changed to positive. Besides, it is rather unlikely that compliance would have been achieved without a credible and considerable conditionality since the Turkish Cypriots’ approval of reunification was closely connected with the fact that they intended to reap the benefits of EU accession. Moreover, the change in the Turkish stance was clearly pushed ahead by the intention to clear its path towards EU accession before the European Council meeting in December 2004, which decided in favour of starting membership negotiations with Turkey from October 2005 onwards.82

Notes 1 Please note that this statement holds true for all GC governments before Papadopoulos and before the signing of the accession treaty (Kramer 2005: 27; Kramer and Hein 2005: 4). 2 Cf. Ali Birand in TDN, 26 April 2004. 3 Cf. BZ, 26 April 2004. Please note, too, that this statement holds true for all TC ˘an. governments before Talat and all Turkish governments before Erdog 4 NZZ Online, 6 March, 23 and 26 April 2004. 5 After the military government of Greece (Ioannidis) staged a coup d’état against GC President Makarios on 15 July 1974, Turkey invoked its legal right as one of the three guarantee powers and intervened on behalf of the TC community ‘to restore constitutional order’ on 20–22 July. Despite Greece’s return to civilian rule under Karamanlis and the re-establishment of Makarios as the island’s legal President only one day later, Turkey exercised an illegal second troop movement (14–16 August) leading to the separation and permanent occupation of 37 per cent of the

Northern Cyprus 217

6 7 8 9

10 11

12 13 14 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

island’s territory. About 180,000 GC were expelled to the south and 80,000 TC fled to the north. Ever since, the island has been divided into an ethnic ‘bi-zone’ with 670,000 GC living south of the 180 km UN-demarcation line and 235,000 TC living north of it (cf. Richter 1999). See the EU Council conclusions at Laeken (December 2001), Brussels (November 2001), and Copenhagen (December 2002). EU Council, Presidency Conclusions, Luxembourg, 12–13 December 1997, paragraph 28. Cf. Kofi Annan in TDN, 26 April 2004. Turkey finances 40 per cent of the total government expenditures and about 23 per cent of the TRNC’s GDP (Axt 2001: 4; Ugur 1999: 197). It guarantees the North’s military security by the stationing of 35,000 Turkish soldiers. Moreover, the huge amount of Anatolian settlers (110,000) further sustains the image of a ‘protectorate’ (Brey 1999: 116; Theophanous 2000: 222) rather than of an independent and sovereign state. Europe Documents, 3 July 1993; AE, 1 July 1993. Candidate Countries Eurobarometer 2002, First Results, in http://europa.eu. int/comm/public_opinion/archives/cceb/2002/cceb_2002_highlights_en.pdf (29 November 2002). TAZ, 12 April 2002. ‘There is no Turkish Cypriot nation. … A Turkish Cypriot is the extension of Turkey in Cyprus.’ (Denktas¸, quoted in Güven-Lisaniler and Rodriguez 2002: 183). Welt, 10 July 1997; BZ, 9 December 2002. NZZ Online, 13 December 2003. The numbers have also been confirmed by the UN and the European Commission (1998). SZ, 19 January 2004; NZZ Online, 29 November 2002. AKP is not per se in favour of reunifying Cyprus, but aims to get the Cyprus obstacle out of Turkey’s accession path. Thus, resonance cannot be regarded high but neutral (cf. TDN, SZ, 10 May 2004). See, for example, FM Gül in euobserver.com, 21 April 2003. SZ, 2 April 2004. PM Ecevit once stated that Ankara would not withdraw its troops even if there were not a single TC living on the island (Suvarierol 2003: 57; cf. Brey 1999: 111). RFE/RL, 7 March 2003. AE, 20 December 1989. AE, 6 July 1990. AE, 3 July 1993. AE, 5 and 6 July 1993. EU Council, Presidency Conclusions, Corfu European Council, 14–15 June 1994. SZ, 15 February 1995; AE, 15 February 1995; 8 March 1995. SZ, 17 February 1995. ˘ci 1997: 160–1. AE, 4 and 5 March 1996; SZ, 23 and 24 February 1996; Bag AE, 8 March 1995. AE, 8 August 1997. European Council, Conclusions of the Presidency, Helsinki, December 1997, Bulletin of the European Communities 12–1999. NZZ Online, 17 January 2001. TDN, 13 and 14 December 1999. TAZ, 12 April 2002. TDN, 28 June 2001.

218 International Socialization in Europe 38 39 40 41

42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64 65 66

67 68 69 70 71 72 73

EU Council conclusions, Seville, June 2002, SN 200/02. TDN, 15 November 2002. TDN, 20 April 2004. For the complete plan, see: http://www.cyprus-un-plan.org/ (12 February 2004). For detailed comments and a critical evaluation, see Kramer 2002d: 1–9 and Reuter 2003. For reactions of the actors, see Axt 2003: 71–4. TDN, 12 December 2003; Zeit, 18 December 2003. TDN, 30 December 2002; CM, 29 December 2002. CM, 29 December 2002; TDN, 30 December 2002. European Council, Conclusions of the Presidency, Copenhagen, December 2002, Bulletin of the European Communities 12–2002. ˘an in TDN, 15 December 2003; CM, 16 April 2003. Erdog FR, 29 December 2002; SZ, 27 December 2002. Similar demonstrations took place on 27 November 2002 and 14 January 2003 (Axt 2003: 73; Ugur 2003: 180). Children and elders not counted, the number includes almost the complete ‘native’ TC community (SZ, 28 March 2003). BZ, 10 and 24 March 2003. Cited in TDN, 1 July 2003; see also BZ, 1 March 2003. NZZ Online, 12 March 2003. BZ, 4 and 12 March 2003. TDN, 8 April 2003; CM, 2 and 6 April 2003. See also CM, 6 April 2003; euobserver.com; NZZ Online, 8 April 2003. EU Commission IP March 359, 11 March 2003. TDN, 2 May 2003. euobserver.com, 21 April 2003. TDN, 23 April 2003; BZ, 24 April 2003. SZ, 2 May 2003; BZ, 14 May 2003; TDN, 23 April 2003; euobserver.com, 24 April 2003. SZ, CM, 24 April 2003; NZZ Online, 25 April 2003. CM, 1 July 2003; SZ, 15 and 16 December 2003; Spiegel Online, 5 November 2003. The elections were a direct referendum on reunification and also an indirect referendum on EU accession since the leftist as well as the rightist parties’ election alliance had irreconcilable preferences and had ruled out any coalition with the other side beforehand (FAZ.net, TDN, 15 December 2003). CM, 16 December 2003. TDN, 16 December 2003. TDN, 13 January 2004. The formation of the new government had been strongly enforced by Ankara (SZ, 12 January 2004). For example, this can be demonstrated in the following phase: only a few days after the referendum on the UN plan in May 2004, Talat’s government lost its parliamentary majority causing the PM’s resignation in October 2004 and early elections on 20 February 2005 (Kramer and Hein 2005: 2). NZZ Online, 13 February 2004; 29 March 2004; TDN, 29 March 2004; 2 April 2004. NZZ Online, TDN, 29 March 2004. TDN, 29 March 2004. SZ, 30 March 2004; TDN, 2 April 2004. CM, 25 April 2004. CM, 25 April 2004. CM, 2 April 2004.

Northern Cyprus 219 74 75 76 77 78 79

SZ, 2 April 2004; cf. Spiegel Online, 26 April 2004. NZZ Online, 25 April 2004. CM, TDN, SZ, 21 April 2004; NZZ Online, 23 April 2004. SZ, 26 April 2004. TDN, 26 April 2004. Welt, 22 February 2005; 18 April 2005. Talat became President, CTP party leader Ferdi Soyer the new PM (TDN, 26 April 2005). 80 CM, TDN, 28 April 2004; SZ, Zeit, 29 April 2004. 81 TDN, 27 January 2005; cf. 30 July 2005. 82 SZ, 4 October 2005.

13 Montenegro

Introduction Montenegro was selected as a shorter supplemental case study to Yugoslavia and a comparative case study to Cyprus. With regard to the former, it presents a second sub-conflict – in addition to the ICTY case – of the new democratic government in Belgrade. With regard to the latter, the conflict (secession) and international conditions are largely similar. However, there is a substantial variance regarding rule legitimacy.

Conflict and rule violation After the end of the Cold War and the fall of Communism, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY), which originally comprised six republics (Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Serbia, Macedonia, and Montenegro), disintegrated. The process started with the declaration of independence of Slovenia and Croatia in June 1991; Bosnia-Herzegovina and Macedonia followed suit (Reuter 1992). The two remaining republics, Serbia (capital Belgrade) and Montenegro (capital Podgorica), claimed to continue statehood of the former entity and on 27 April 1992 ‘transformed’ the SFRY into the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY) (Rich 1993). The new/old entity of the two constituent republics was a highly asymmetrical federation – similar to Cyprus in 1960. The relationship is best described as a ‘marriage between elephant and mouse’ (Cagorovic 1997: 28): Serbia – including the two autonomous provinces Kosovo and Vojvodina – accounts for over 90 per cent of the total population (10.3 million Serbs and only 650,000 Montenegrins), the GDP, the federal budget, and manpower of the armed forces. Both republics were, however, granted equal constitutional say with a positive discrimination for Montenegro concerning its share of seats in the lower house of the federal parliament – 22 per cent of the seats compared to 8 per cent of the population – and political parity in the upper house as well as in federal government positions (ESI 2001a: 2; Cagorovic 220

Montenegro 221

1997: 29).1 In 1992, the Montenegrin government – Momir Bulatovic´’s DPS-CG (Democratic Party of Socialists-Montenegro – had consented to the creation of the rump federation because it was largely a ‘semi-puppet’ of Miloševic´’s SPS (Cagorovic 1997: 28). In July 1997, however, the domestic situation in Montenegro changed: the central committee removed Miloševic´’s intimate Momir Bulatovic´ from the party presidency and the DPS-CG split into a reformist wing (Milo Djukanovic´’s DPS-led party coalition ‘For a better life’) and a loyalist wing (Bulatovic´’s Socialist Peoples’ Party SNP).2 Three months later, the reformist, pro-Western Milo Djukanovic´ was elected Montenegrin President. Ever since his inauguration in January 1998, he had advocated democratic and economic reform and autonomy from the federal government in Belgrade,3 which – although formally equal – was de facto dominated by Serbia. After DPS secured the absolute majority of the votes and 42 out of 78 seats in the Montenegrin parliamentary elections of May 1998, Djukanovic´ openly demanded a redefinition of the constitutional arrangement with Serbia in the FRY. On 3 August 1998, Djukanovic´ unilaterally stopped cooperation with the federal authorities.4 Montenegro’s aspirations for political emancipation and concerns for autonomy were inspired by functional imperatives; that is, economic, social, and democratic dissatisfaction with the autocratic regime in Belgrade (Caspersen 2003: 106–7, 116–17): anything was considered better than a fatal dependency or cooperation with the pariah regime of Miloševic, whose elite was about to push the country into the next civil war (Kosovo).5 As Djukanovic´ presented himself as the figure of hope for democratic change in the FRY (Biermann 1999: 40),6 the EU and the US supported Montenegro’s independent course of democratic consolidation and Western alignment by generously granting large sums of financial assistance in order to stabilize it ‘against Miloševic´’ (Calic 2001: 11; ESI 2001b: 4, 19).7 His image allowed Djukanovic´ to pursue a clever step-by-step policy of maximizing de facto independence. During 1999, Montenegro acquired several features of a sovereign state; that is, de facto autonomy in customs, currency, and foreign trade policy. The Kosovo War then caused the final rift with Belgrade, when Podgorica refused to assist Belgrade militarily and declared its neutrality, which spared the country from most of NATO’s bombing campaign and international sanctions (Brusis and Galer 2001: 57). It even received funds from the Stability Pact.8 In August 2000, Djukanovic´ demanded a redefinition of the federal arrangement between Belgrade and Podgorica and announced that he intended to hold a public referendum on the question of independence in case this suggestion would be rejected.9 In October 2000, Miloševic´’s regime surprisingly collapsed as a result of the velvet revolution, in which the democratic DOS movement under the leadership of Vojislav Koštunic´a and Zoran Djindjic´ came to power. As a result, the official reason for pursuing Montenegrin independence ceased to exist. Djukanovic´ had always announced an intention ‘to continue with the Yugoslav community if it democratized, implemented market economy, and integrated

222 International Socialization in Europe

into the institutional structure of the Euro-Atlantic community’.10 But in contrast with common expectations, the pro-independence forces in Montenegro led by Milo Djukanovic´ ‘redoubled’ their efforts towards secession by arguing that the change in government had not erased the dangers of a Greater Serbian state project.11 Although this behaviour contrasted sharply with earlier statements, Podgorica was about to declare itself independent. This, however, constituted a dilemma for the international community in general and for the EU in particular: On the one hand, Montenegro, like Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Hercegovina, Macedonia, and Serbia, was a successor republic of the defunct SFRY. What is more important, Podgorica’s pursuit of independence was neither accompanied by ethnic conflict, border or human rights violations, nor by military means. In contrast with the war-prone, repressive climate in Serbia, which was experiencing large-scale human rights abuses, the political situation in Montenegro was different: a peaceful, non-aggressive, and relatively stable democracy with free and fair elections, independent media, and a lively NGO landscape.12 On the other hand, the EU was interested in preventing Montenegro’s unilateral secession from the FRY since this could encourage separatist movements all over the Balkans including the smoldering trouble-spots Macedonia, the Serbian federal entity in Bosnia (Republika Srpska), and – above all – create a negative precedent for the secessionist ambitions of the Kosovo-Albanians (Reljic 2002a: 1; Wiberg 2000: 211).13

International demands and conditions Although the Western interest in preventing a potential secessionist domino effect, including further military interventions, in the Balkans was perfectly understandable, it does not mean that it was also legitimate. The EU’s demand for refrain from unilateral declarations of independence in accordance with the general international norm of ‘prohibition of secession’ was apparently based on the UN’s principles of non-intervention, state sovereignty, and inviolability of state borders (cf. Biersteker 2002: 161, 164). However, the plan of the government of Montenegro to declare independence after a positive referendum represented the accepted deviation from this rule. Moreover, the EU had recognized the successor states of the Soviet Union, the peaceful separation of the Czech Republic and Slovakia, and the other successor republics of the SFRY. Montenegro fulfilled all the legal requirements the EU had established for these cases – and some even better.14 The EU’s policy of state recognition was far from being applied consistently and it was not always in line with the international or Europe’s own criteria of legitimate statehood. In sum, the EU had no legitimate authority to try to dissuade Montenegro from independence per se. First, Montenegro fulfilled the traditional criteria for the recognition of statehood (authority, identity, territory) as formulated in Article 1 of the 1933

Montenegro 223 Table 13.1 External conditions of international socialization in Montenegro Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy


(high)


(high)

 (low)

‘Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States’. These are: permanent population, defined territory, a government in effective control of the territory, and the capacity to enter into relations with other states (Hille 1995; Rich 1993). Second, Montenegro also fulfilled the ‘special’ prerequisites of the EU’s conditioned sovereignty concept based on democratic governance included in the ‘Declaration on the Guidelines on the Recognition of the New States in Eastern Europe and in the Soviet Union’ and the ‘Declaration on Yugoslavia’ of 16 December 1991. The conditions are as follows: respect for the principles of the UN, the Helsinki Final Act, and for the Charter of Paris, guarantees for ethnic minorities, respect for existing frontiers and renunciation of territorial claims against neighbours, and a commitment to multilateral peaceful conflict resolution. Entities resulting from aggression or use of force (for example, Republika Srpska Krajina) as well as sub-federal entities (for example, Kosovo, Vojvodina) will not be recognized (Declaration on Yugoslavia; cf. Hille 1995; Rich 1993). The declaration was drafted by the so-called ‘Badinter Committee’,15 which concluded in its Opinions 1, 8, and 9 of 18 May 1992 that the disintegration of the SFRY was considered not a ‘secession’ but a process of (prior) ‘dissolution’, in which the ‘the composition and functioning of essential bodies of the Federation no longer satisfied the intrinsic requirements of a federal state regarding participation and representativeness’, so that the six republics (including Montenegro) had the legal right to ask for international recognition (Opinion 8; cf. , Hille 1995).16 It also declared that the ‘desire for independence’ could be ‘expressed through referendums’ (Slovenia, Croatia, and Macedonia) or ‘a resolution on sovereignty’ (Bosnia-Herzegovina). In addition, from 1999 onwards, the international community’s behaviour morally and materially supported Podgorica’s autonomy and democratization and thereby indirectly encouraged its aspirations for sovereignty and its devolution from the federation.17 It was rather naïve to believe that this would not trigger increased aspirations for independence.18 Lastly, as we will see in the processtracing chapter, there was Serbian-Montenegrin agreement about separation at the end of 2001. The true reason for the EU’s policy shift was pragmatic: what was earlier considered a useful tool to undermine the authoritarian government of Miloševic´, now constituted a threat to the domestic position of the young DOS leadership in Serbia.19 In spite of low rule legitimacy, the EU’s conditionality tried to press both partner-republics towards a solution within a single international sovereignty.20

224 International Socialization in Europe

After a decade of economic devastation and stagnation, this policy was a promising instrument to exert leverage over Montenegro and Serbia as both states’ survival was maintained by a continuous flow of international aid. Montenegro’s political economy and oversized governmental apparatus largely depended on external revenues (Brusis 2002: 176; ESI 2001b: i, 23).21 The level of incentives in the event of compliance or punishment in case of noncompliance was therefore high. Furthermore, the EU’s biggest trump card, its offer of membership, had been extended to Serbia and Montenegro as one nation only.22 Javier Solana, the EU’s High Representative for CFSP, pointed out that the organization wanted a ‘democratic Montenegro in a democratic Yugoslavia’.23 In its Conclusions of May 2001, the European Council emphasized the conditional character of its assistance:24 ‘The successful outcome of this dialogue [that is, the new constitutional charter on a reformed state union], which should exclude any unilateral actions, would enable the EU to continue with its political, economic, and financial support to Montenegro.’25 It further noted that the success and the speed of any SAA negotiations depended on ‘the state’s ability to demonstrate its capacity to implement such an agreement’ (European Commission 2003a: 1). The credibility of the incentive was therefore also high since the EU promoted a gradual policy of integration that included tangible, intermediate steps towards accession.

Domestic conditions Ever since Djukanovic´ has ruled in Podgorica, he has actively advocated and pursued Yugoslavia’s integration into Europe’s institutional structures. While identification was high, domestic power costs for Djukanovic´ to comply with the EU’s demands of state union with Serbia were high, too: he had made his recent political fortune by pursuing a strict course towards independence. A re-integration into the FRY would have threatened Podgorica’s de facto sovereignty and endangered Djukanovic´’s political power base, given his impatient constituency and pro-independence coalition partner. For example, after Djukanovic´ had signed the EU-sponsored ‘Belgrade Agreement’, which aimed at a reformed state union with Serbia for the subsequent three years, the Liberal Alliance (LS) left the government in 2002. Domestic power costs were high but not very high, according to our operationalization, because the agreement led to a temporary loss of government with uncertain chances for re-election. It did, however, not foreclose the option of regaining power and achieving sovereign statehood in the future because it permitted Montenegro to hold a unilateral referendum in three years’ time.26 With regard to resonance, the Montenegrin elite – just like Montenegrin society27 – is subdivided into a unionist camp and a pro-independence and reformist bloc: Djukanovic´’s governing party list of DPS and SDP (Social Democrats), ‘Victory is with Montenegro’, is pro-independence, while the opposition party list led by Bulatovic´’s SNP, ‘Together for Yugoslavia’,28 is in

Montenegro 225 Table 13.2

Domestic conditions in Montenegro

Costs

Identification

Resonance

 (high)


(high)

 (low)

favour of continuing a common Yugoslav entity. In the April 2001 elections, Djukanovic´’s coalition gained 42 per cent while the other side gained 40 per cent of the votes, which forced Djukanovic´ into coalition with the pro-independence Liberal Alliance.29 The resonance of EU’s propagated of ‘prohibition of secession’ was therefore clearly low for the government.

Process and outcome The issue of Montenegrin independence led to a deadlock of federal institutions because the Yugoslav system required consensus at all levels. The European Commission (2002a: 5–6) sharply criticized Belgrade and Podgorica ‘for its constitutional uncertainty at the federal level … blocking necessary constitutional reforms’ and pointed out that ‘the Montenegrin ruling parties’ boycott of the federal state … remains a serious obstruction … to legal reforms’. In sum, the EU spoke of a ‘constitutional stalemate [that] must clearly be resolved’ within the next 12 months (European Commission 2002a: 18). In autumn 2001, the possibility of a peaceful and consensually negotiated dissolution of the FRY was on the horizon. The Serbian Prime Minister and Djukanovic´ concluded that the tripartite negotiations had shown that it was largely impossible to solve the constitutional dilemma in a satisfactory way for all actors involved (Caspersen 2003: 113; Reljic 2002d: 2). While Podgorica continued with its traditional pursuit of independence, the Serbian premier did not object to a velvet dissolution for pragmatic reasons because the slowdown of domestic reforms in the paralyzed FRY had prevented Belgrade from fulfilling the preconditions to conclude a SAA with the EU (Querimi 2002: 52).30 The co-ruling Serbian Christian Democrats even suggested holding a unilateral referendum in Serbia in order to vote on secession from Montenegro.31 At that point, however, the EU intervened. It conducted a massive campaign of diplomatic activity to mediate between the parties. Since both countries largely depended on Western donors, there was no room for manoeuvre, arguing, or non-compliance (Caspersen 2003: 113). On 24 December 2001, the EU’s foreign policy coordinator and high representative for CFSP called upon expert talks. On 14 March 2002, one day before the European Council meeting at Barcelona and after 12 hours of negotiations, Koštunica, Djukanovic´, Labus, Djindjic´, and Vujanovic´ finally agreed on a constitution of the federal entity and signed the four-page ‘Belgrade agreement’ for an institutional relaunch.32 While Solana praised the agreement as ‘an important signal that the Balkans are not a place for fragmentation’,33 the other participants lacked

226 International Socialization in Europe

all enthusiasm: the new state was as welcomed as an ‘unwanted pregnancy’ and regarded as an interim solution with the purpose of satisfying EU.34 After Djukanovic´ had signed the Belgrade Agreement, his coalition partner, the Liberal Party, left the government accusing Djukanovic´ of a ‘betrayal’ of Montenegrin interests. Djukanovic´ stepped down as President to assume the post of prime minister after a clear victory in the following early parliamentary elections (Caspersen 2003: 114; Fraser 2003: 384).35 He immediately restated that Montenegrin independence was ‘the logical epilogue of the Yugoslav process of disintegration’ [my translation] (Reljic 2002b: 1) and declared triumphantly that ‘in three years, Montenegro will have the undisputable right to use its right to make a decision’ (cf. Fraser 2003: 387).36 The same attitude could be seen in Serbia where vice-premier Miroljub Labus regretted having signed the agreement, which he regarded as a ‘big mistake’, because it had laid Serbia hostage to its small neighbour.37 New problems arose with the fact that the Constitutional Charter needed to be worked out in more detail. But negotiations within the trilateral constitutional commission stalled for over half a year over the ‘simple’ question of the composition of the federal assembly: direct election (Serbian proposal) or delegation by each republic’s parliament (Montenegrin proposal).38 Only because the EU intervened again (28 November 2002) and Javier Solana reminded the negotiating parties that ‘a rapid finalization of the constitutional Charter is a key requirement … for further progress towards a Stabilization and Association Agreement with the European Union’,39 a compromise was found on 8 December 2002 (Fraser 2003: 385). On 4 February 2003, ‘Yugoslavia’ was erased from the maps of the world: the federal (Yugoslav) parliament established a new but deliberately loose (con-)federation ‘Serbia and Montenegro’, which was approved by a reluctant parliamentary majority of 84 out of 138 votes.40 A Montenegrin referendum on independence was shelved,41 but both partners attained the right to leave the federation after the trial period of three years. The new state’s competences were to be fairly limited, based on a minimum of common interest. The federal entity was to be in charge of foreign and defence policy while the component states enjoyed large autonomy in the spheres of economy and human rights policy. Although both states share a common seat in the UN and OSCE, both have their own currency, their own central bank and no central office for the implementation of the common customs and trade policies. Already in the first year of its existence, however, the usual problems divided the ‘federal government’: the Council of Ministers headed by the Federal President was unable to implement a common customs regime, trade policy and internal market integration, which seriously delayed the accession and reform process in Serbia and Montenegro.42 By 2004, governance at the union level had virtually collapsed and Podgorica rejected all constitutional obligations, such as holding direct elections for the federal parliament. Serbia, on the other hand, announced it was preparing itself for a referendum on independence in

Montenegro 227 Table 13.3

Conditions and compliance in Montenegro

Incentives

Credibility

Legitimacy

Costs

Identification

Resonance

Compliance


(high)


(high)

 (low)

 (high)


(high)

 (low)

Compliance

2006.43 As a consequence of the delay in reforms and the general unwillingness of both partners to work together, the EU in October 2004 for the first time indicated a slow departure from its unionist stance. EU Commissioner for External Relations Chris Patten noted that ‘after long delays due to internal disputes in that country … we have offered a ‘twin track’ … because we do not want to see Serbia and Montenegro fall behind its neighbours’.44 Because of the ‘serious delays in the implementation of the Constitutional Charter … [and to] help to overcome the constitutional stalemate’,45 the EU allowed the two constituent republics ‘distinct negotiations’ within a ‘single SAA’ on their separate fields of competences.46 Some observers claim, however, that this development presents a first step towards ending the EU’s federal experiment ‘Solania’ (Caspersen 2003: 113), as both governments are no longer required to harmonize and coordinate all of their policies.47 Although the EU explicitly declared that ‘[t]he twin-track approach does not prejudge the future of the State Union’, it also reconfirmed both countries’ right to withdraw unilaterally from the federal entity.48 In sum, EU conditionality in Montenegro has been highly ambivalent. The EU’s success in preventing disintegration and secession has come at the price of medium- or long-term sustainability.49 The federation of Serbia and Montenegro would certainly not have been created without EU involvement50 but the EU imposed its preference for preventing independence over fair mediation of a balanced compromise that would have taken the views of all actors into account. By doing so, the EU in fact increased the likelihood of future non-compliance. According to a European diplomat, the EU was primarily interested to ‘buy … some time [because it] simply [was] not ready to start talking about the future status of Kosovo at this stage’.51 Finally, more than 55 per cent of the population voted in favour of Montenegro’s independence in a referendum in May 2006.

Results The Montenegrin case again demonstrated the power of political conditionality – for better or worse – and strengthens the rationalist analysis of international socialization: compliance has only been achieved as a result of massive external pressure. The findings also confirm those of earlier case studies (for example, Estonia and Northern Cyprus) in that highly credible conditionality was able to overcome moderately high domestic power costs. Finally, the case study once again shows that legitimacy does not matter for compliance.

228 International Socialization in Europe

In sum, Montenegro is a typical example of a case in which the combination of high identification with the West and strong and credible international incentives tipped the overall balance in favour of compliance.

Notes 1 As Belgrade claimed to be solely entitled to the SFRY’s legal assets, it decided to sustain the impression that the SFRY continued to exist of equal republics – despite the ‘secessions’ of the other constituent republics. The risk that the Montenegrin ‘tail’ would eventually wag the Serbian ‘dog’ seemed small, since both republics were ruled by socialist parties by great margin. 2 FWA, 1998: 398; FH/NIT, 2001: 419. 3 FWA, 1999: 400. 4 FWA, 1999: 401. 5 SZ, 28 July 1999; 10 July 2000. 6 SZ, 24 July 1997; NYT, 21 October 1997; Zeit, 23 September 1999. Djukanovic´ called for Yugoslavia’s reintegration into Europe’s institutional structures and meditated in the FRY’s rising conflict with the Kosovo-Albanian leadership in Pristina in 1998 (Troebst 1998: 29). 7 Foreign net transfers of the EU and the US in total added up to 765 million German marks (391 million Euro) in the period between 1999 and 2001 (ESI 2001b: 20). As a result, the average Montenegrin’s wages or pension became twice as much as that of the Serbian counterparts (ESI 2001b: 4). 8 SZ, 28 July 1999; 26 July 2000; FWA, 2000: 426. 9 FWA, 2000: 426; SZ, 6 August 2000. 10 SZ, 22 November 1999. 11 FH/NIT, 2002: 429; SZ, 18 January 2001; BBC Monitoring International Reports, 17 December 2003. 12 FH/NIT, 2001: 421, 425; 2002: 428, 434–5. 13 FH/NIT, 2002: 429–30; 2005: 16. 14 It can hardly be argued that Croatia and Bosnia, when recognized, possessed firm physical control over their territory (Biersteker 2002: 163), while Slovenia and Macedonia – despite fulfilling the conditions – remained unrecognized for some time – the latter because of Greece’s objection to its name (Macedonia FYROM) (Türk 1993). 15 See European Journal of International Law, 4: 1, 72–91. 16 Note that the Opinions do not speak of a right to self-determination or secession, but the right to ask for international recognition of sovereignty. 17 IHT, 22 November 2000; SZ, 26 July 2000. 18 See, for example, Djukanovic´’s interview in BBC Worldwide Monitoring (27 July 2001): ‘In the meantime … our people became increasingly aware of the advantages that an independent Montenegrin state would provide. … So, it is quite unrealistic now to expect the authorities and the people of Montenegro to give it all up easily.’ 19 ‘During Miloševic´’s dictatorship, [we] were in a way renewing our state infrastructure, of course with the tacit agreement of … the international community. … After Miloševic´’s departure … the international community started putting what I would call strong and rather inexplicable pressure on Montenegro to return as soon as possible to being a disciplined Yugoslav republic.’ (Interview with Milo Djukanovic´ in BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 27 July 2001).

Montenegro 229 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

28 29 30

31 32

33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

47 48 49 50 51

SZ, 24 April 2001; RFE/RL Balkan report, 14 December 2001. Cf. SZ, 18 January 2001. NYT, 15 March 2002. FH, 2002: 429. SZ, 24 April 2001. EU Council Conclusions, Brussels, 14–15 May 2001. FWA, 2004: 762. Only 55 to 60 per cent of the people are in favour of independence (low resonance of a state-union) (Brusis and Galer 2001: 51; Caspersen 2003: 111–14). This numerical majority includes the Muslims of the Sandzak region (14 per cent of the population) as well as the Albanians in the south-east (7 per cent of the population) who tip the balance in favour of independence (Reljic 2002c: 3; cf. FAZ, 16 March 2002; FH/NIT, 2005: 12). SNP and NS (Peoples’ Party). SZ, 24 April 2001. SZ, 13–14 January 2001; Economist, 16 February 2002. The European Commission (2002a: 6) noted that there is already ‘a continuing … frustration, in Serbia, that new legislation there – but not, in practice in Montenegro – is aligned to a (federal) constitution which Serbia cannot change’. FAZ, 17 May 2002. Proceeding Points for the Restructuring of Relations between Serbia and Montenegro, in http://www.mfa.gov.yu/YugFrameset.htm (21 October 2002). Cf. Welt, 16 March 2002. NYT, 15 March 2002. FAZ, 6 February 2003. FH/NIT, 2005: 9; taz, 22 October 2002; FWA, 2004: 764. SZ, 14 January 2003; cf. NZZ Online, 5 February 2003. Note that the agreement granted both parties the right to a referendum after a period of three years. NZZ Online, 16 January 2003. FAZ, 17 May 2002; NZZ Online, 7 September 2002; SZ, 22 October 2002. Tanjug, 1 August 2002. The EU itself noted a ‘lack of clear political will to implement the agreements’ (European Commission 2003a: 3–4). FAZ.net, 5 February 2003. FAZ, 15 March 2002. FH/NIT, 2004: 17. FH/NIT, 2005: 3, 7–9. European Commission, IP/04/1202 – Brussels, 11 October 2004. European Commission, COM (2005) 476 final, Brussels, 12 April 2005, 2. European Council: Western Balkans – Council Conclusions (item debated), 11 October 2004, in http://www.delscg.cec.eu.int/en/news/news/final20041012/ final 20041012.htm (20 February 2006). FH/NIT, 2005: 9. European Commission, COM (2005) 476 final, Brussels, 12 April 2005, 2. NZZ Online, 5 February 2003. SZ, 14 January 2003. NYT, 9 March 2003.

14 Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance

In the preceding chapters, we have analyzed the target countries of international socialization in Europe case by case. In this chapter, we move on to a systematic comparison of the cases using QCA (Qualitative Comparative Analysis) in order to draw general conclusions on the conditions of compliance. We show that a credible perspective to join the EU or NATO has been a necessary condition of compliance with the constitutive rules of the Western international community. This external incentive, however, has not been sufficient. Only where the domestic power costs of compliance for the target government were low did the credible membership perspective lead to the fulfilment of Western demands. Where it would have implied regime change or disrupted the government, even the linkage with EU or NATO accession was not enough to induce compliance – except during the endgame of decisions to begin or conclude accession negotiations.

Qualitative Comparative Analysis In essence, Qualitative Comparative Analysis as developed by Charles Ragin (1987; 2000) is an extension of classical comparative analysis. It expands Mill’s methods of agreement and difference, and is specifically designed to handle and analyze rigorously a larger number of cases than usual comparative designs – without, however, applying statistical, regression-based techniques. Charles Ragin defines the essence of qualitative research by its case orientation. Qualitative analysis distinguishes itself from quantitative research not just – or not so much – by the (limited) number of cases or the (qualitative) kind of data and measurements but by its ‘holistic character’. Qualitative social researchers look at and compare ‘cases as wholes’: ‘cases are viewed as configurations – as combinations of characteristics’ (Ragin 1987: 3). Qualitative research then seeks ‘to determine the different combinations of conditions associated with specific outcomes or processes’ (Ragin 1987: 14). As a consequence, qualitative research is less concerned with the number of cases or observations as such than with the variety of conditional configurations. 230

Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance 231

It does not work with sampling, frequencies, and probabilities; its methods are logical rather than statistical. It is not interested in the general significance and explanatory power of individual variables but in their embeddedness in causal fields as either individually or jointly necessary and/or sufficient conditions (Ragin 1987: 15–16). This corresponds to the interest of this book in discovering the conditions of effective international impact on the adoption of liberal democratic rules in Eastern Europe. However, qualitative analyses often become more difficult to conduct and interpret as the number of cases and variables increases. Commonalities become rare and difficult to identify, the number of possible comparisons increases geometrically, and the number of logically possible combinations of causal conditions increases exponentially (Ragin 1987: 49–50). This is quite obvious in our case studies. We not only observe the potential causal influence of five different conditions but also differentiate our country studies according to various issues and changing conditions over time. In the case study chapters, we listed the outcomes of more than 50 conditional configurations in nine countries. Without the help of a rigorous technique for summarizing and analyzing this data, it would be impossible to arrive at any valid general conclusions. Using Boolean algebra, QCA offers a tool to handle more than the handful of cases and causal configurations typically analyzed in qualitative research. It is capable of examining complex patterns of interactions between variables and contains procedures to minimize these patterns in order to achieve parsimony (Ragin 1987: 121–3). Thus, QCA helps to improve qualitative research without having to compromise on its basic features. In contrast to regressionbased techniques, it allows researchers to study necessity and sufficiency, and makes it easier to study interactions between explanatory variables. It also deals adequately with equifinality; that is, the existence of different causal configurations and pathways that lead to the same outcome. Such equifinal configurations are described as disjunctions of conditions. Each disjunction is sufficient but not necessary for the outcome to be observed. In our analysis, QCA serves three main purposes. First, it summarizes and generalizes our individual case study results. Second, it reveals conditions of successful socialization beyond the single country and checks whether findings for one country also hold for other countries. Finally, it establishes alternative conditions and pathways of international socialization. If there are multiple paths toward international socialization, QCA is able, in principle, to uncover them.

Truth table QCA is most easily used with a dichotomous conceptualization of the variables producing binary data (0/1). Whereas the presence of a condition or outcome is coded as ‘1’, their absence is coded as ‘0’. ‘Fuzzy-set’ QCA (Ragin 2000) also works with values between 0 and 1 and thus allows for a more fine-grained

232 International Socialization in Europe

and information-rich analysis. However, fuzzy-set QCA still requires the researcher to define a theoretically meaningful qualitative ‘breakpoint’ and to interpret the intermediate values as degrees of membership in the 0 or 1 class of cases. Since our variables are conceptualized dichotomously following theoretical suggestions for a plausible threshold value of compliance, we can use simple QCA procedures without having to transform our data further. In preparation for QCA, the data is arranged as a ‘truth table’. That is, each conditional configuration (combination of values of the independent variables) present in the data set is represented as one row together with the associated (‘truth’) value of the dependent variable. Finally, the truth table is analyzed with procedures of combinatorial logic to arrive at a solution specifying one or more combinations of necessary and sufficient causes (Ragin 1987: 86–99). Table 14.1 lists the conditional configurations extracted from our case studies that we will further analyze using QCA procedures. There are two extreme ways of aggregating conditional configurations. On the one hand, the researcher can determine observation intervals ex ante and feed the truth table with all the conditional configurations that result. For instance, we could have observed the conditional configuration for each country and issue at the end of each year between 1990 and 2005, which would have given us close to 300 entries. On the other hand, the researcher can combine all equal conditional configurations ex post. This would result in one entry per conditional configuration only and would take seriously the assumption of QCA that the variety of configurations rather than the number of cases associated with them is relevant. We chose an intermediate way. The country cases are subdivided according to time periods and issues only if the value of at least one independent variable changes from one time period to another or from one issue area to another. Temporal subdivisions most often result from changes in the credibility of the membership incentive and changes in government (followed by changes in resonance and costs). Issue subdivisions most often involve those between general liberal democratic norms, minority rights, and issues of secession, entailing variation in legitimacy, resonance, and costs. As a consequence, the number of cases is not only higher than the number of countries (41 cases for nine countries) but also varies strongly among the countries – between one (for Belarus and Montenegro, with no relevant changes in conditions over time and among issues) and nine (for Estonia with three separate issues and up to four time periods). The advantage of this procedure is that, while it reduces redundancy, we can still identify each of the 41 configurations with a single country. On the other hand, one must be careful not to attach any importance to the frequency of configurations. It would not be meaningful to point out that one configuration is present in the dataset more often than another and is therefore more relevant. Finally, we simplified the comparative analysis by collapsing the two variables ‘incentives’ and ‘credibility’ into one: ‘credible EU or NATO membership

Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance 233 Table 14.1

Cases and conditional configurations

Case ID

CREDINC COSTS

LEGITIMACY IDENTITY

RESONANCE

COMPLIANCE

BEL CYPTurⴚ99 CYPTurⴚ02 CYPTurⴚ03 CYPTurⴙ03 CYPTCⴚ03 CYPTCⴙ03 ESTCitⴚ95 ESTCitⴚ97 ESTCitⴚ99 ESTCitⴙ99 ESTChⴚ95 ESTChⴚ97 ESTChⴙ97 ESTLanⴚ99 ESTLanⴙ99 LATCitⴚ97 LATCitⴙ97 LATLanⴚ99 LATLanⴙ99 MON ROMDⴚ93 ROMDⴚ96 ROMDⴚ00 ROMDⴙ00 ROMMⴚ93 ROMMⴚ96 ROMMⴚ00 ROMMⴙ00 SLODⴚ98 SLODⴙ98 SLOMⴚ98 SLOMⴙ98 TURMⴚ99 TURⴚ02 TURⴙ02 YUGRⴚ00 YUGKSⴚ00 YUGSⴙ00 YUGICⴙ00F YUGICⴙ00S

0 0 1 1 1 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 1 1 1 1 0 1 1 0 1 1 1 1

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 1 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 1 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 1 1 1 0 1 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0

0 0 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 1 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 1

0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 1 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 1

0 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 0 1 1 1 0 1 1 1 0 1 0 1 1 1 1 0 0 1 1 1

Note: The first three letters identify the country; further letters identify the subcases; ‘
’ means ‘from’ the year that follows; ‘’ means ‘until’ the year that follows.

incentives’ (CREDINC). First, the theoretical expectation is that these two explanatory variables are not causally independent of each other but that membership incentives will only be effective when they are also credible. Second, there are no cases in the sample in which low incentives were not

234 International Socialization in Europe

credible. Thus, we distinguish high and credible incentives, on the one hand, from high and non-credible as well as low and credible incentives, on the other. The truth table (Table 14.2) summarizes and lists the conditional configurations present in the data.1 For each configuration, the table also shows the case identifiers. At this point, we would like to point out three observations from the truth table. First, the cases cover only 18 out of 32 logically possible configurations (2 for five binary independent variables). For the other 14 configurations, we do not have empirical observations of the associated outcome. The absent configurations are called ‘remainders’. QCA can deal in different ways with these remainders depending on the goal of the analysis. In order to maximize parsimony, remainders can be used as potential simplifying assumptions in the logical minimization of conditions. By contrast, ‘the most conservative strategy is to treat them as instances of the absence of the outcome when assessing the conditions for the presence of the outcome’ and vice versa (Rihoux and Ragin 2004: 12). In our analysis, we will use both techniques to see what difference they make for the results. Second, one (but only one) bivariate combination is systematically missing in the table: ‘COSTS and identification’.2 That is, there are no cases in which low Western identification is associated with low domestic political costs. Target governments with a weak or absent European or Western identity always incur high adoption costs. Conversely, target governments with low adoption costs always identify strongly with the Western international community. By contrast, a strong Western or European identity does not exclude high adoption costs and vice versa. The implications of this observation will be discussed below. Third, three conditional configurations (rows 5, 6 and 8) are contradictory; that is, the same configuration of conditions leads to compliance in some cases and non-compliance in others. In contrast to a probabilistic statistical analysis, a deterministic logical analysis cannot incorporate such contradictory results. There are two technical solutions to this complication (Ragin 1987: 113–18). The first is to include frequencies and significance to exclude either the positive or negative cases. For instance, one might exclude the less frequent outcomes in the contradictory rows. This solution, however, would not only ‘violate the spirit of case-oriented qualitative research’ (ibid: 118) but, given the way in which the units of analysis were defined above, would also bias the analysis in favour of the countries with higher within-country variation. The second way is to recode all contradictory outcomes as either 0 or 1 or to treat them as ‘don’t care’; that is, as having either a positive or a negative outcome depending on the situation. Coding the outcomes as ‘false’ (0) is the conservative option, which yields highly certain causal patterns but might exclude further or simpler causally relevant conditional configurations (type II error). By contrast, coding them as ‘true’ (1) is more inclusive but might overstate the causal effect of some conditional configurations (type I error). The configurations produced by the analysis are then better interpreted as conditions under which the outcome is possible or

235 Table 14.2

Truth table

CREDINC COSTS LEGITIMACY IDENTITY RESONANCE COMPLIANCE Cases 1

1

1

1

1

1

1

CYPTur
03, ROMD00, SLOD
98, TUR
02, YUGS
00

2

1

1

1

1

0

1

ROMD
00, YUGIc
00S

3

1

1

0

1

1

1

ROMM00

4

1

1

0

1

0

1

LATCit
97, ROMM
00, SLOM
98

5

1

0

1

1

1

C 0/1

CYPTur03, ESTCh
97, ESTLan
99

6

1

0

1

1

0

C 0/1

CYPTur02, CYPN03, TUR02, YUGIc
00F CYPN
03, LATLan
99

7

1

0

1

0

0

0

SLOD98, YUGKS
00

8

1

0

0

1

1

C 0/1

ESTCit99 ESTCit
99

9

MON

1

0

0

1

0

1

10 1

0

0

0

0

0

SLOM98

11 0

1

1

1

1

0

ESTCh97

12 0

1

1

1

0

0

ESTCh95

13 0

0

1

1

1

0

ESTLan99

14 0

0

1

1

0

0

CYPTur99, LATLan99, ROMD96, TURM99

15 0

0

1

0

0

0

BEL, ROMD93, YUGR00

16 0

0

0

1

1

0

ESTCit97

17 0

0

0

1

0

0

ESTCit95, LATCit97, ROMM96

18 0

0

0

0

0

0

ROMM93

236 International Socialization in Europe

probable rather than certain. We will use all three options to cover the entire range of interpretations of the outcomes.

Analysis Treating remainders as simplifying assumptions, the Boolean analysis yields results (Table 14.3) for all three specifications of the contradictions. If all contradictions are recoded as compliance cases (outcome 1) or ‘don’t care cases’, credible membership incentives and a Western/European identity of the target governments are jointly sufficient for compliance. By contrast, if all contradictions are recoded as non-compliance cases (outcome 0), this is still a sufficient combination – provided that legitimacy and resonance are absent. Alternatively, credible incentives and low domestic costs must be jointly present to produce compliance. As was to be expected, the conditions in the conservative solution are more exacting. Credible incentives and a positive identification must either be combined with the absence of other conditions or credible incentives must be combined with low domestic power costs – which, given the limitations of our dataset, can be interpreted as a restriction of the ‘identity’ condition. The QCA solutions thus show three conditions to be relevant for compliance. Credible incentives figure as a necessary condition in all three solutions combined with positive identity or low costs. The strongest finding is the necessity of a credible EU or NATO membership perspective for the target country. In the absence of this condition, there will not be compliance even if other conditions are highly favourable. In particular, the issue of citizenship for children born in Estonia (see Rows 11 Table 14.3

QCA solutions

Contradictory configurations

Solution for compliance

Coded as compliance

CREDINC and IDENTITY

Coded as ‘don’t care’ Coded as non-compliance

Solution for non-compliance credinc or identity or costs and LEGITIMACY or costs and RESONANCE credinc and identity

CREDINC and COSTS or CREDINC and IDENTITY and legitimacy and resonance

credinc or identity

Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance 237

and 12 in Table 14.2) indicate that governments have not acted without credible membership conditionality, even though domestic costs were low and legitimacy and identity were high. On the other hand, credible membership incentives alone are not sufficient to produce compliance. This is
true for the Meciar regime in Slovakia, the Miloševic´ regime in Yugoslavia as well as, until recently, for Cyprus and Turkey. The analysis suggests that credible incentives need to be combined with Western/European identification or low domestic costs. By contrast, legitimacy and resonance are either absent from the QCA solutions or even feature as negative prerequisites of compliance. Whereas it would be a misinterpretation of the findings to say that a lack of resonance with or legitimacy of Western rules is helpful for compliance, we can safely conclude that a combination of credible membership incentives and pro-Western identification are sufficient to bring about compliance even if legitimacy and resonance are weak. The cross-check for the negative outcome (non-compliance) confirms this basic finding. Depending on how we treat the conditions, the absence of a credible EU or NATO membership perspective, the absence of a positive identification with the European or Euro-Atlantic international community, or high domestic power costs feature as necessary and sometimes even sufficient conditions for failed socialization attempts. Conspicuously, legitimacy and resonance now appear as positive conditions of non-compliance. As a second cross-check for the robustness of our findings, we told the QCA programme to exclude the non-observed conditional configurations from the analysis – and thus not to fit them with the observed configurations so as to produce a parsimonious solution. Yet the results were the same. This indicates that, independently of their compliance outcomes, the 14 non-observed conditional configurations would not have any influence on the results. Both cross-checks give us sufficient confidence in the stability of our conclusions. To arrive at more determinate findings, however, it would be necessary to discriminate more clearly between costs and identity, and to solve the contradictions.

Extension To discriminate more clearly between costs and identity, it would be helpful to find at least one case combining low costs and low identity. However, this is not an easy task. Generally, low identity cases are rare in post-Cold War Europe. Most governments identify themselves clearly with the Western or European international community. In our selection, there are only 7 cases of low identification, concerning, above all, the Lukashenka regime in Belarus,
the Meciar regime in Slovakia, and the Miloševic´ regime in Yugoslavia. Unfortunately, for these authoritarian or autocratic regimes, compliance with liberal democratic norms also involved or still involves substantial power costs. To find more cases of weak identity, one would have to go further east into

238 International Socialization in Europe

the post-Soviet space, but then again the combination of non-Western identities and autocratic government appears to be even stronger in this region. Thus, it may very well be that the absence of the combination low costs/weak identity is a fact of real political life rather than an artefact of our case selection. All we can do at this point is to distinguish between a conservative (costbased) and a generous (identity-based) interpretation of our findings. Given that there are cases of positive identification and high costs, while there are no cases of low costs and weak identity, the set of low-cost cases is a subset of the set of strong-identity cases. Thus, it is safer to conclude that credible EU and NATO membership incentives and low domestic power costs are individually necessary and jointly sufficient conditions of compliance with the constitutive rules of the Western international community. To solve the contradictions, Ragin’s most recommended strategy is to go back to the cases and see whether contradictions result from poor conceptualization or omitted variables. A Boolean analysis of the contradictions (as suggested by Ragin 1987: 113–15) reveals that contradictions appear when credible incentives (1), positive identity (1) and high domestic costs (0) are combined with either high legitimacy or high resonance. In other words, high domestic power costs may in some cases permit compliance under otherwise favourable conditions. Which are these deviant cases, and do they have features that distinguish them from the other high-cost cases? The cases in question are highlighted by italics in the truth table (Table 14.2): the acceptance by the Northern Cyprus government of the UN Peace Plan in 2004 (CYPN
03); the compliance of the Estonian government, in the course of EU accession negotiations, with international demands for more generous rules for citizenship and the public use of minority languages (ESTCh
97, ESTCit
99, ESTLan
99); changes in the Latvian language law on the eve of the Helsinki summit of European heads of government and state in December 1999 (LATLan
99); and the acceptance by the government of Montenegro of a federation with Serbia rather than formal independence (MON). Two commonalities of these cases come to mind. First, the high costs in each case do not result from general threats to the survival of the regime or the integrity of the state. Rather, the cases involve democratically elected target governments and result from the threat by coalition partners to leave the government or by parties in parliament to withdraw support from a minority government. Thus, the costs can be classified as moderately high in comparison to the costs of compliance for authoritarian or autocratic governments. Second, most cases concern ‘endgame’ situations in negotiations between the EU and the candidate countries. The government of Northern Cyprus complied immediately before the referendum that would decide the inclusion of the Turkish Republic in the EU; Estonia (except for the children’s citizenship case) and Latvia complied with demands for minority rights just in

Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance 239 Table 14.4

QCA solution with ENDGAME variable

Contradictions and remainders

Solution for compliance

Coded as ‘don’t care’

CREDINC and COSTS or IDENTITY and ENDGAME

Coded as non-compliance

CREDINC and IDENTITY and ENDGAME and resonance or CREDINC and IDENTITY and ENDGAME and costs or CREDINC and COSTS and IDENTITY and LEGITIMACY or CREDINC and COSTS and IDENTITY and RESONANCE and endgame

time for accession negotiations to be opened or completed; Montenegro gave in just in time before the EU would have excluded the country from the list of membership hopefuls and cancelled the financial aid, on which the state budget strongly depended. In sum, it appears that the time pressures emanating from the concluding phase of high-stake negotiations with regional organizations add sufficiently to the size and credibility of the external incentives to overcome moderately high domestic power costs. Of course, this plausible ad hoc explanation of the deviant cases would have to be tested systematically, for instance, by adding two further variables or by refining the conceptualization of the credible incentives and costs variables. And it would need to be confirmed independently by additional cases not yet included in the sample. Indeed, by introducing an ‘endgame’ variable and coding final negotiation phases (just ahead of decisions to open or to conclude accession negotiations) as ‘1’, the contradictions disappear – except for the Estonian case of citizenship for children of stateless parents, which was solved in December 1998 before the final phase of EU accession negotiations. The parsimonious QCA solution (treating the single remaining contradictory configuration and the remainders as ‘don’t care’ cases) is ‘(CREDINC and COSTS) or (IDENTITY and ENDGAME)’. First, the solution confirms the combination of credible EU or NATO membership incentives and low domestic power costs as a sufficient configuration of conditions. Second, it shows that in combination with the pressure of final negotiation phases, a Western/ European identity will be sufficient for compliance, too. This result generally mirrors the original analysis, since we can understand ‘endgame’ as a situation of particularly high and credible membership incentives for compliance. It also helps us to clarify the relationship between costs and identity: the obstacle of high domestic power costs can be overcome if target governments identify

240 International Socialization in Europe

positively with the Western international community and find themselves in a decisive phase of accession negotiations. The conservative analysis yields a similar but more complicated result. First, our cases show that target governments will comply if they identify themselves with the Western international community, have a credible membership perspective and are engaged in decisive negotiations on accession – even if resonance is low or domestic power costs are high. This confirms the second parsimonious pair of conditions. Second, compliance will obtain if credible membership incentives, low domestic power costs, a positive identity of the target government, and legitimate rules are present. Finally, outside of endgame negotiation situations, a credible membership incentive, low domestic power costs, a positive identity, and high resonance will also lead to compliance. These are rather overdetermined sets of conditions, in which, for the first time, legitimacy and resonance appear as necessary conditions of compliance.

Theoretical conclusions What do the findings tell us about the explanatory power of alternative theoretical approaches to international socialization and their associated conditions of effectiveness? The analysis generally corroborates the bargaining model. First and most strongly, it shows that high and credible material and political incentives have been necessary for the promotion of liberal political norms in problematic target countries. In the absence of such incentives, external efforts fail to produce democratic change in non-compliant countries. Second, however, such credible incentives alone are not sufficient to bring about such change. They need to be combined with other conditions. The bargaining model suggests that the additional requirement is low domestic power costs. This proposition is generally supported by the evidence. Both according to the original analysis and to the re-specified model, credible incentives and low costs are jointly sufficient for compliance. However, this is not the only jointly sufficient configuration and not the exclusive path to compliance. A combination of credible incentives (or ‘endgame’ negotiations, according to the re-specified model) with positive Western identification is sufficient to bring about democratic change as well – even if domestic power costs are high. These findings suggest that a mixed set of conditions adding identity to external incentives works just as well as the ‘pure’ combination of credible incentives and costs. How can we make sense of this result despite the fact that identification comes from an alternative theoretical model of international socialization? We suggest that a positive identification may be interpreted as a factor that reduces the perception or salience of domestic power costs. Positive identification creates a strong interest in membership in the organizations of the ‘aspiration group’ as a basic foreign policy goal. In particular, at decisive ‘moments of truth’ in or before accession negotiations,

Comparative Analysis: Conditions of Compliance 241

governments with a positive identification tend to value the membership perspective more highly than moderate short-term costs and to comply even if they risk losing power (temporarily). In other words, the endgame situation strengthens the ‘credible incentives’ term of the calculation vis-à-vis the ‘domestic costs’ term if target governments are favourably disposed toward the regional organizations in general. Even in endgame situations, however, this will not work if power costs are substantial and durable (regime change) or if identification is low. In contrast, the constructivist conditions alone are not corroborated by this analysis. First, even in the presence of positive identification, high legitimacy, and at least neutral resonance, compliance did not follow (see several of the Baltic minority rights cases). Second, identification, legitimacy and resonance only appear as positive conditions of compliance in combination with credible incentives (identity) or with both credible incentives and low costs (resonance and legitimacy). Third, whereas identification is a robust condition in the QCA solutions, resonance and legitimacy are not. In sum, the constructivist conditions of international socialization have not worked to bring about compliance in the problematic target countries of Eastern Europe or, to put it more cautiously, they had not been successful before the external incentives of EU and NATO membership began to have an effect. The analysis suggests that the size and credibility of external incentives is the most relevant factor for the effectiveness of international norm promotion and socialization – at least, in the short term. The socialization efforts of European regional organizations have not failed when the international legitimacy or domestic resonance of international norms was low, or because of a lack of ‘ownership’, but when external incentives were purely social rather than material, too small compared to the domestic costs of adaptation, or not based on credible threats and promises. In decisive ‘endgame’ situations of negotiations on EU (or NATO) accession, however, the membership incentive was even capable of overcoming (moderate) domestic power costs of the target government.

Notes 1 For all results reported here, we used the ‘crisp-set analysis’ procedures in fsQCA 1.4 (Ragin, Drass and Davey 2003). The program can be downloaded at http:// www.u.arizona.edu/⬃rubinson/ragin/fsQCA/ (15 February 2006). 2 According to the convention of QCA, present conditions (1) are written in uppercase letters, absent conditions (0) in lower-case letters.

15 Dynamics of Socialization

Limits of comparative analysis In the previous chapter, we conducted a summary analysis of the conditions under which European regional organizations (the socialization agencies) have been able to induce governments in norm-violating Eastern European countries (the socialization targets) to comply with their constitutive liberal rules. Using QCA, we were able to show that a credible EU or NATO membership perspective is a necessary but not a sufficient condition for inducing compliance in the problematic target countries. In general, credible EU or NATO membership incentives have to meet low domestic power costs of rule compliance for the target government. However, under the special circumstances of endgame negotiations on EU or NATO accession, target governments that aspire or consider themselves to be part of the Western international community will accept moderate power costs (such as the loss of a coalition partner or the majority in parliament) in return for the opening or conclusion of accession negotiations – and comply. Although the analysis drew from case studies on a large number and variety of countries, issues, and governments, and is arguably sufficiently representative for international socialization in Europe to yield general findings, it also suffers from three main limitations. First, the case selection was restricted to countries with systematic initial violations of constitutive liberal norms. This selection was justified in order to study whether, when and how the activities of international socialization were able to produce an end to these violations, and we are confident about the validity of our findings for this group of target countries. However, we cannot generalize them to all target countries of international socialization and to the overall impact of international organizations on democratic consolidation. We would therefore like to extend our analysis to more and different European countries in order to arrive at a broader picture and to put our comparative case study findings in perspective. 242

Dynamics of Socialization 243

Second, our research design was comparative statics. We compared individual instances of international socialization efforts across international organizations and countries and their effects, and established cross-sectional patterns of conditions of effective international socialization. However, we should also like to know more about the dynamics of the socialization pathways of target countries and the longitudinal patterns they produce. In addition, whereas our comparative design is suitable for studying the effects that changes at the international and domestic level have on the compliance outcome, it does not explain how and why those changes come about. Finally, our case studies and comparative analysis explained short-term responses to international socialization attempts. We observed whether these attempts triggered compliance understood as the formal institutionalization of community rules. Whereas the presence of compliance may be an indicator for initial success in the socialization process, compliance by itself does not equal successful socialization. As we defined it, successful socialization requires that the target state reliably complies with fundamental international community rules in the absence of external sanctioning mechanisms. At the time of writing, it is too early to judge whether post-Cold War international socialization has been successfully completed. We can see, however, whether compliance has been stable and sustained for a longer period in the target countries after the initial socialization successes (Checkel 2005). In this chapter, we will thus study the longitudinal patterns, the dynamics, and the medium-term effects of international socialization in a larger group of Eastern European transformation countries.1 Whereas, in the previous chapter, we have studied how external incentives and domestic costs have combined to produce compliance in the short term, in this chapter, we will examine how they have produced different patterns of international socialization in the longer term. We propose and examine the hypothesis that these patterns, dynamics, and effects depend primarily on the initial constellation of political forces (or parties) in the transition countries and, as a secondary influence, the constellation of external incentives.

Party constellations, membership incentives and international socialization Dynamics are produced by causal factors that change over time. Such dynamics can be exogenous; that is, the change in the causal factors is unrelated to the socialization process itself and its outcomes. If causal factors change as a result of feedback from socialization outcomes, we speak of endogenous dynamics. Our theoretical as well as empirical analyses have shown that the size and credibility of external incentives and the size of domestic political costs for the target government are the relevant causal factors of compliance in the international socialization of Eastern Europe.2 How and in which way

244 International Socialization in Europe

could these factors change? According to our argument in Chapter 3, exogenous change in the strategy of the community organizations may result from changes in the capabilities of the community organizations, the core goods they produce, and their interdependence with the target states, on the one hand, and a change in the community rules, on the other. These factors, however, have remained largely stable throughout our period of investigation and have had the effects that, first, the OSCE and the CE pursued persuasion and social reinforcement strategies to disseminate the liberal community rules and, second, that the EU and NATO focused on material reinforcement by reward and were reluctant to offer membership to the ex-Communist countries. Endogenous change in the socialization strategies of the community organizations could have been the result of either significant success or significant failure of socialization in Eastern Europe. As we have argued in Chapter 3 above, one eminent case of failure – the systematic and massive violation of fundamental human rights in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo – has indeed led the community organizations to move beyond their dominantly rewardsbased socialization strategies to reinforcement by punishment including military coercion to end the ethnic cleansing in Yugoslavia. Although it is debatable to what extent the conflicts in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo were brought forward or at least facilitated by Western passivity, both obviously demonstrated the limits of reinforcement by reward and caused pressure on the community organizations to do more. In addition, it was the quick adoption of constitutive community rules by many Eastern European countries that has made it increasingly difficult for the EU and NATO to sustain their reluctance towards enlargement and deny these countries a credible membership promise. Again, it is debatable to what extent the democratic consolidation in the forerunner transition countries of Eastern Europe has been caused or helped by the community organizations. However, their quick and smooth socialization to liberal norms was undeniable and strongly supported the framing and shaming activities of the Eastern European governments and their supporters in the community organizations. Finally, Lars Skålnes (2005) links both endogenous changes when he argues that the conflicts in Yugoslavia were an important factor in causing the EC to move ahead with Eastern Enlargement to prevent the spread of further instability in Eastern Europe and that the Kosovo crisis caused the EU to extend the membership perspective to the Balkans. Thus, one of the core conditions of effective international socialization – the credible EU and/or NATO membership perspective – came about as a result of endogenous change in the socialization process in 1993 and 1994. Thenceforth, the external conditions have remained stable. Thanks to the community effects of consistency and impartiality, the EU and NATO have not reneged on their membership promise and have extended it to all European non-member countries. We therefore suggest subdividing the socialization

Dynamics of Socialization 245

process into two main phases: one from 1989 to 1993/94 with unfavourable external conditions of effective socialization, the other from 1994 to 2004 with increasingly favourable external conditions.3 By contrast, the other core condition of effective international socialization – domestic political costs of the target government – has initially been subject to exogenous change in the course of the socialization process. Change in the political costs of the target government has generally come through change in the composition of the national government, or through change in the domestic political environment of the government, neither of which have been influenced significantly by the community organizations’ socialization strategies. For authoritarian, nationalist, or populist governments, who rely on illiberal goals and practices to preserve their power, the costs of complying with the fundamental liberal community norms are usually high, whereas they are low for liberal-democratic governments. Changes in the composition, identity, or preferences of target governments have not been the direct result of Western persuasion or incentives but have come about through elections. As we have argued in Chapter 3 above, the electorate in the Eastern European countries has generally been volatile in their choice of parties and governments and, at any rate, not a faithful agent of the community organizations. For these reasons, elections are ‘exogenous shocks’ in the socialization process which neither improve nor deteriorate the conditions of successful rule adoption consistently. Other factors that have changed domestic power costs in our case studies, such as the abatement of PKK terrorism in Turkey or the mitigation of the fear of mass naturalization in the Baltic countries, have also not been significantly affected by the community organizations. Under the condition of electoral volatility and random election effects, the long-term prospects for socialization do not only depend on the costbenefit calculations of the government currently in power but of potential future governments as well. The composition of future governments, in turn, depends on the reservoir of major parties from which these governments can draw – that is, all parties that are able to form a government or will be dominant in any feasible coalition government. In other words, we claim that the effectiveness of international socialization will depend on the party constellations in the target countries and their respective domestic power costs of compliance.4 We distinguish three basic types of party constellations: liberal, antiliberal, and mixed.5 If all major parties base their legitimacy claims and programmes on liberal reform and integration into the Western organizations (liberal party constellation), the conditions of international socialization are favourable because their adoption costs will be low and will not change fundamentally after a change of government. If, however, the major parties base their legitimacy claims and programmes on nationalism, communism, populism, and/or authoritarianism (anti-liberal party constellation), the political costs

246 International Socialization in Europe

of adaptation to the liberal community rules will be steadily high. As a consequence, the conditions for successful reinforcement by reward will be unfavourable. In mixed party constellations with major liberal and antiliberal parties, the domestic power costs of the target governments will alternate depending on which camp is in power. How do the two factors of change – the establishment of a credible membership perspective and the party constellation in the target country – interact? What socialization dynamics and patterns do they produce? In the absence of a credible membership promise, the party constellation is the only driving force and creates three basic patterns: increasing rule adoption in the liberal constellation; non-compliance in the anti-liberal constellation; and fluctuating but, on average, stagnant medium-level rule adoption in the mixed constellation. Under a strategy of material reinforcement by reward, the presence of a credible membership perspective merely reinforces the central tendency of the liberal constellation and does not alter the dynamics of the anti-liberal constellation. By contrast, it moves the mixed-constellation countries from stagnation to progress through lock-in effects. Only in this constellation does the membership promise have a strong impact on democratic consolidation. As in the other countries of the region, the Eastern European countries with a liberal party constellation had to go through the economic trough of transformation. Although they pursued different strategies of economic reform (for instance, gradualism in the Czech Republic and shock therapy in Poland), the population has had to suffer from the hardships of economic adjustment sooner or later, and used the ballot to oust the incumbent parties from government. Moreover, political scandals have taken their toll. Whereas some of these countries have shown a remarkable stability of governments and parties (such as the Czech Republic and Slovenia), in others, they have been highly fluctuating and short-lived (such as in Poland and the Baltic countries). What distinguishes these countries from the other Eastern European countries, however, is a general orientation of the major parties toward liberal democracy and Western integration. Thus, whenever a government was dismissed or voted out of office, its successors followed the same basic parameters of political change. This not only applies to the parties of the centre and the moderate right but also to the reconstructed post-communist parties that came to power through democratic elections only a few years after the communist breakdown in Hungary, Lithuania, and Poland. The expectation for this group of countries is a quick and smooth socialization process, resulting in high and stable conformance with Western democratic standards. This is because, given the political programmes and predominant legitimation strategies of the major parties, the political benefits of Western integration are high and the costs of adaptation are comparatively low. Under these domestic conditions, however, transformation countries are likely to engage in ‘anticipatory adaptation’ in the first place;

Dynamics of Socialization 247

that is, they conform to liberal norms even in the absence of external reinforcement (Haggard et al. 1993). Thus, whereas socialization is highly successful, the independent contribution of international institutions to this outcome is limited. The community organizations can have two kinds of impact on countries with a liberal party constellation. First, they reinforce and stabilize existing norm conformance and create a virtuous circle. They reward initial reform steps with material assistance and a strengthening of institutional ties. These rewards strengthen the rule-abiding government domestically, create incentives for further adaptation, and raise its stakes in integration: the costs of deviant behaviour become increasingly high. Second, the community organizations may have an impact on compliance with particular rules, which are not generally shared by liberal parties. In Eastern Europe, this has mainly been the case with minority protection. It is only in these cases that the EU and/or NATO membership perspective has been a necessary condition of compliance in CEECs with a liberal party constellation. In all other cases, we expect the adoption of fundamental liberal democratic rules to have been completed or to be well advanced ahead of the establishment of a credible membership promise. In the mixed constellation, there is no elite consensus on liberal democratic reform and Western integration. Liberal parties or coalitions have been able to come to power in these systems but did not exclusively shape their postcommunist development. Either superficially reconstructed communist parties initiated (but also slowed down and distorted) democratic transition from above (such as in Romania). In these cases, rule adoption should have been slow and weak in the beginning. Or reform-adverse nationalists and populists benefited from the failure of reform-oriented parties to provide for economic recovery or efficient governance. In that case, the level of conformance should have stagnated or deteriorated. In some of these countries (Bulgaria, Croatia, Romania, Slovakia), governmental authority has shifted more than once between the two camps. In these cases, we expect the level of conformance to change in a stop-and-go or up-and-down pattern. Over time, however, these countries are still likely to be socialized effectively, although not as quickly and smoothly as the ones with a liberal party constellation (see McFaul 2002: 241–2). When liberal parties control the government, they introduce liberal domestic changes. The community organizations reward these changes with financial assistance and higher levels of integration. These rewards benefit the country, raise the stakes in democratic consolidation, and increase the costs of any future reversal. Populist parties therefore adapt their political goals to preserve the achieved benefits of integration. After the major nationalist-authoritarian parties of Croatia (HDZ), Romania (PDSR) and Slovakia (HZDS) had been voted out of government, Romania and Slovakia started accession negotiations with the EU, and Croatia became an EU associate and applied for membership. In the opposition, these parties modified

248 International Socialization in Europe

their programmes and presented themselves as unequivocally pro-integration. When the PDSR and the HDZ were back in power in 2000 and 2003, they stayed the course of reform and integration. Thus, the lock-in effects of Western integration create path-dependency across changes in government and may, eventually, change the party constellation from mixed to liberal. Finally, in the last group of countries, governments base their legitimacy on anti-liberal (nationalist, populist, or communist) ideologies and/or rely on authoritarian practices for the preservation of power. Whereas governments may agree to cosmetic changes or tactical concessions to reap the political benefits of Western rewards, adaptation to liberal norms would undermine the basis of their rule. In these Eastern European countries, socialization has little impact; autocracy rather than democracy is consolidated. Under reinforcement by reward, these countries are excluded from the benefits of assistance and membership. In contrast to states with mixed and liberal constellations, the stakes in reform therefore do not grow in countries with antiliberal regimes and lock-in effects are absent. As a result, the conformance gap between these countries and the rest of the CEECs widens. Only a domestic revolution (such as in Serbia in 2000 or Ukraine in 2004) has the potential to reverse this trend. In sum, we expect the following patterns of international socialization depending on the initial party constellation: 1 In countries with a liberal party constellation, international socialization will not only be effective but also quick and smooth. Except in the case of conflict about minority protection, international socialization will be far advanced ahead of credible EU and NATO membership promises; 2 In countries with a mixed party constellation, international socialization will also be effective but take longer and proceed via stop-and-go or up-and-down processes. International socialization will stagnate ahead of credible EU and NATO membership promises; 3 In countries with an anti-liberal party constellation, international socialization will not be effective.6 To explore the empirical plausibility of these expectations, hypotheses, we will present a simple bivariate correlation (between party constellations and compliance with Western liberal norms). In order to capture as much variation as possible and to detect patterns of outcomes, we analyze a large number of Eastern European countries: the ten CEECs that have become NATO and EU members (or will become EU members soon) as well as the largest European successor states of the Soviet Union (Belarus, Russia, Ukraine) and of Yugoslavia (Croatia and Serbia-Montenegro). To measure socialization, we again use the Freedom Index.7 Consistently good ratings for a longer time period indicate sustained compliance with the liberal community rules, and sustained compliance indicates effective socialization.

Dynamics of Socialization 249

Party constellations and socialization patterns Table 15.1 shows a classification of Eastern European countries according to the independent variable ‘party constellations’ and the expectations on socialization that follow from this classification.8 We identified ‘liberal parties’ on the basis of identification and resonance; that is, their general programmatic orientation toward the Western international community and its values and norms. We mainly consulted the country-specific expert literature to do so. Figure 15.1 shows the Freedom House ratings for Eastern European countries with a liberal party constellation between 1988 and 2004. The figure has three noticeable features. First, it illustrates a sharp rise in Freedom House ratings between 1988 and 1991. That is, the major improvements in democracy and human rights took place before the offer of EU and NATO membership and, indeed, before any European regional organization embarked on specific support activities for democracy in Eastern Europe. Second, many CEECs with a liberal party constellation also reached a high, Western level of conformance – the rating of 1.5 matches that of most Western countries – before the EU and NATO decided to admit CEECs. In 1993, the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Slovenia had a rating of 1.5; Poland and Lithuania were rated only slightly worse (rating of 2). From 1995 onwards, these five countries have usually had a stable rating of 1.5 or better. Obviously, these are cases of ‘self-socialization’. As expected, the community organizations appear to have had a stabilizing role at best. Third, the two countries in this group, which needed until 1996/97 to attain a rating of 1.5, were Estonia and Latvia. The reason for this slightly worse performance was problems with the treatment and the rights of the large Russian-speaking minorities in both Baltic countries. The fact that the attainment of a high level of norm conformance coincided with the preparations of the EU and NATO for the first round of accession negotiations confirms the causal link between membership incentives and compliance traced in our case studies.9 Moreover, it confirms the relevance of credible membership incentives when specific norms (such as minority protection) are contested among liberal parties. In contrast, CEECs with anti-liberal party constellations (see Figure 15.2) have generally scored badly throughout the post-communist period.10 None of them has been rated a ‘free country’ even temporarily; conformance with the liberal community rules has been absent altogether or has remained at a low level. Following short periods of initial democratization immediately after the breakdown of communism, authoritarian or autocratic rule was consolidated (as indicated by stable ratings of four or worse after 1999). As expected, EU and NATO accession conditionality did not have any discernible impact on democratization or democratic consolidation in these countries. Rather, rule adoption has deteriorated since the mid-1990s.

Party constellations and predicted socialization patterns (1990–2002)

250

Table 15.1

Party constellation

Country

Major parties

Changes in major government party

Observed socialization pattern

Liberal

Czech Republic Hungary Lithuania Poland Slovenia

ODS, CSSD MSzP, MDF, Fidesz Sajudis, LDDP, TS Post-Solidarity parties, SLD LDS, SLS

1998 1990, 1994, 1998, 2002 1992, 1996, 2000 1989, 1993, 1997, 2001 1992, 2000

Quick, high, and stable conformance ahead of membership conditionality

Estonia Latvia

Pro Patria, Coalition Party Latvia’s Way, TB/LNNK

1992, 1994, 1995, 1999 1993, 1995, 1998, 2002

Bulgaria Croatia Romania Slovakia

BSP—UDF HDZ—SDP PDSR—CDR HZDS—SDK

1990, 1992, 1997, 2001 2000 1996, 2000 1994, 1994, 1998

Belarus Russia

Lukashenka regime Yeltsin/Putin presidential regime SPS, Miloševic´ regime Kuchma regime

Since 1994 Since 1991

Mixed

Anti-liberal

Serbia-Montenegro Ukraine

High and stable conformance after membership conditionality High conformance after slow and fluctuating process of improvement Stabilization of low conformance after small initial improvements

Until 2000 Since 1994

Note: BSP  Bulgarian Socialist Party; CDR  Democratic Convention of Romania; CSSD  Czech Social Democratic Party; HDZ  Croatian Democratic Union; Fidesz  Hungarian Civic Alliance; HZDS  Movement for a Democratic Slovakia; LDDP  Lithuanian Democratic Labour Party; LDS  Liberal Democracy of Slovenia; MDF  Hungarian Democratic Forum; MSzP  Hungarian Socialist Party, ODS  Civic Democratic Party; PDSR  Party of Social Democracy in Romania; SDK  Slovak Democratic Coalition; SDP  Social Democratic Party of Croatia; SLD  Democratic Left Alliance; SLS  Slovenian People’s Party; SPS  Serbian Socialist Party; TB/LNNK  Union for the Fatherland and Freedom; TS  Homeland Union/Conservatives; UDF  Union of Democratic Forces. Sources: Based on Ágh (1998); Berglund, Hellén and Aarebrot (1998); Blondel and Müller-Rommel (2001); and Ismayr (2002).

Dynamics of Socialization 251 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 1

Freedom House

2

3 4

5

6

7 Czech Rep

Figure 15.1

Estonia

Hungary

Latvia

Lithuania

Poland

Slovenia

Liberal party constellations and compliance

1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 1

Freedom House

2

3

4

5

6

7 Belarus

Figure 15.2

Ukraine

Serbia-M.

Russia

Anti-liberal party constellations and compliance

Figure 15.3 shows the development of norm conformance in the countries with a mixed constellation of major political forces. Again, we wish to emphasize three observations. First, as in the case of the liberal-constellation countries, major improvements in democracy and human rights took place between 1988 and 1991 and, thus, in the absence of specific socialization efforts by European regional organizations. In contrast with the liberal-constellation

252 International Socialization in Europe

countries, however, these improvements did not attain high, Western levels of norm compliance before membership incentives became effective. Second, the performance of mixed-constellation countries follows individual patterns, mostly reflecting changes in government. The up-and-down pattern of compliance in Slovakia
mirrors the alternation between the populist and authoritarian-style Meciar governments (1993 and 1994–98) and the reform coalitions of 1994 and since 1998. The ratings for Croatia worsened with the consolidation of the nationalist Tudjman regime at the beginning of the Yugoslav succession wars, and improved markedly after his death and the switch to a liberal coalition in 2000. Romania shows a slow but overall successful, stop-and-go process of compliance. During the first, post-communist, Iliescu regime (1991–96), compliance improved slowly but the ratings did not get better than 3.5. The reform coalition (1996–2000) achieved a rating of 2. Only the Bulgarian case does not provide evidence for the compliance effect of mixed party constellations. According to Freedom House, the ratings were even better during the government of the Socialist Party than under the reformist Union of Democratic Forces between 1997 and 2001. Finally, Figure 15.3 shows the expected long-term convergence towards high levels of norm conformance. Since 2000, the ratings for the four countries have varied between 1.5 and 2.5, which mirrors the state of compliance in the liberal-constellation countries between 1994 and 1996. The clearest indicator for a lock-in effect of EU and NATO integration is Romania, where the rating of 2 was maintained after the return to power of the PDSR and Iliescu in 2000. A similar effect can already be observed for Croatia after the return of the HZS in 2003. 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 1

Freedom House

2

3

4

5

6

7 Bulgaria

Figure 15.3

Romania

Slovakia

Mixed party constellations and compliance

Croatia

Dynamics of Socialization 253

Results In this chapter, we have extended our analysis to a larger group of target countries, longitudinal patterns of international socialization, and medium-term effects of socialization efforts by European regional organizations. What has the analysis of socialization dynamics added to our understanding of the conditions of successful international socialization? First, we have extended the analysis to countries such as the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, and Slovenia, in which the core liberal-democratic norms of the Western community were not systematically violated and which, therefore, were not part of our case studies. This extension of the analysis has clearly shown that, while EU and NATO political conditionality was necessary in bringing about democratic change and consolidation in many transformation countries, it was redundant or merely reinforcing strong domestic trends in others. These CEECs had been well on the way toward democratic consolidation before membership conditionality was in place. Second, the analysis confirms the rationalist approach in so far as credible membership incentives and domestic political costs are not only the major conditions of compliance in a comparative-static analysis, but changes in these factors also account for major turning-points in the dynamics of international socialization in Europe. After the establishment of a credible EU and NATO membership perspective in the mid-1990s, the gap between liberal countries with or without major minority rights problems first narrowed and then disappeared. Later, the lock-in effect of integration in the mixed-constellation countries reduced the domestic political costs of compliance for those parties with authoritarian tendencies that had blocked reform in government, were then voted out of office, and returned to government after liberal norms had been adopted and first steps toward integration had been completed. The fact that costly political reforms had been implemented when they were in the opposition anyway but had not prevented their return to power reduced the domestic political costs of compliance for these parties significantly and facilitated continued rule adoption in spite of unaltered low resonance. This endogenous change in domestic costs narrowed a second gap among the CEECs: that between liberal countries and mixed-constellation countries at the turn of the century. By contrast, the third cleavage – that between anti-liberal countries and the rest – could not be overcome because neither of the two factors, incentives or costs, changed over time. Finally, moving the analysis beyond the immediate responses to Western socialization efforts shows that there has been a longitudinal pattern of increasing and sustained compliance, on the one hand, in the liberal- and, more recently, in the mixed-constellation countries, and of sustained non-compliance in the anti-liberal countries, on the other. These patterns suggest that we are indeed observing successful, albeit ongoing, processes of socialization rather

254 International Socialization in Europe

than just short-term cooperative and uncooperative responses by the target states.

Notes 1 In this chapter, however, we exclude Cyprus and Turkey from the analysis because their starting points of international socialization strongly differ from those of the ex-Communist countries. 2 By contrast, identification has been a stable background condition in almost all of the target countries. 3 In the EU case, Vachudova (2005) distinguishes these phases as ‘passive leverage’ and ‘active leverage’. 4 To be sure, this variable only qualifies as a proximate cause: the party constellation depends in turn on deeper factors such as ethnic cleavages, political culture, socioeconomic structures, or transition trajectories. 5 See McFaul (2002) for a similar three-way categorization of transition countries and explanation of transition outcomes based on the domestic balance of power between democratic parties and supporters of the ancien régime. 6 See Table 15.1 for country-specific predictions based on these hypotheses. 7 See Chapter 3 and Table 3.2. 8 Note that the classification of CEECs is based on the 1990–2000 evidence. 9 See Chapters 10 and 11. 10 The line for Serbia-Montenegro ends in 1999. After the regime change of 2000, the country switched from ‘anti-liberal’ to ‘mixed’.

16 Conclusions

What are the implications of our study for theorizing international socialization and for international political efforts to promote democracy and human rights? We finish our analysis with a few theoretical and policy conclusions.

Theoretical conclusions In this book, we have presented a synthetic approach to the study of international socialization that combines rationalist and constructivist elements. Whereas we argue that normative effects and explanatory factors emphasized by constructivist institutionalism – such as identity, legitimacy, and resonance – have made an impact on the community organizations as socialization agencies by constraining their choice of socialization goals, strategies, and instruments, we also hold that they do not explain the mechanisms and conditions of successful international socialization. The reason is that the target states, who are by definition not (yet) members of the community, are not obligated by community norms and rules or susceptible to persuasion and social influence by the community organizations. By contrast, the socialization process between socialization agencies and target states is a bargaining process, and its success depends on the size and credibility of tangible political incentives manipulated by the community organizations and the size of political costs incurred by the target states in adopting fundamental community rules. Our analysis thus corroborates a rationalist approach to explaining the mechanisms and conditions of effective international socialization. This finding is very much in line with recent works on the impact of European regional organizations on the promotion of democracy, human rights, and specific institutions and policy rules in Eastern Europe.1 It differs, however, in some important respects from the landmark study on the ‘Power of Human Rights’ (Risse, Ropp and Sikkink 1999), which defined the ‘state of the art’ in the study of international socialization (Checkel 2000: 1337) a few years ago. Based on a broad cross-regional comparative study of the international 255

256 International Socialization in Europe

socialization of states to international human rights norms, Thomas Risse and Kathryn Sikkink developed an inductive ‘spiral model’ to describe the phases and processes, the relevant actors and relationships of international socialization as well as the conditions and mechanisms of norm-conforming domestic change that may result from it. According to the spiral model, the primary actors of international socialization are transnational advocacy networks of activists. They establish links with and strengthen the domestic opposition against human rights-violating regimes, collect information about human rights violations and bring it to the attention of states and intergovernmental organizations, and mobilize international support for sustained action against repressive regimes. Theoretically, the existence and activities of a transnational advocacy network is a necessary condition of successful international socialization. Without them, states and intergovernmental organizations lack the information and the incentives to act against human rights violations. The second core feature of the spiral model is a gradual change in the logics of action of the target state. In the early phases of the socialization process, the target states follow a ‘logic of consequences’ or instrumental rationality. They initially deny human rights violations and make tactical concessions only as a result of material and political vulnerabilities and sustained international pressure. As such, our analyses concur. In making tactical concessions, however, and ‘talking the talk’ of human rights in order to ease the pressure, ‘they can become entrapped in their own rhetoric’ (Risse and Sikkink 1999: 27) and in the rules of rational argument: to engage in true dialogue, stick to their rhetorical human rights commitments, and follow up words with deeds. As a consequence, human rights attain ‘prescriptive status’ in their discursive practices and domestic law and, in the course of time, are internalized and followed habitually according to the ‘logic of appropriateness’. By contrast, our findings show that, while transnational advocacy networks are numerous and active in Europe, they were neither indispensable actors nor necessary links in the socialization process. In Europe, intergovernmental regional organizations have assumed the functions ascribed to transnational networks by Risse and Sikkink. They have actively and permanently sought information on human rights violations and have rapidly taken action on the basis of this information. They put the human rights situation on the agenda of intergovernmental meetings, took it into account in the decisions on financial assistance, association, and membership, and acted to improve it with various means. Their reactions to violations of democratic principles and human rights in the countries of Eastern Europe came within weeks and months – rather than years, as in the cases documented by Risse, Ropp, and Sikkink (1999). In many cases, regional organizations even anticipated and tried to prevent a deterioration of the human rights situation; for example, in the Baltic countries. Thus, transnational networks are best described as additional suppliers of information on issues that have been on the agenda of and monitored by regional organizations anyway.

Conclusions 257

Moreover, our cases do not show that a shift in the logics of action preceded or was necessary to produce sustained compliance. They roughly fall into four categories. First, the liberal, ‘self-socializing’ countries (such as Poland or Slovenia) have quickly adopted fundamental liberal-democratic norms since the very beginning of the transformation process. Sustained compliance may very well have been a product of internalized beliefs and habitualized behaviours in these cases – but it was certainly not the result of a shift in logics of action brought about by international socialization efforts. Second, some liberal-constellation countries (such as Estonia and Latvia) have violated human rights norms and have complied in response to credible EU and NATO political conditionality. In these cases, however, the process-tracing analysis has demonstrated that compliance has been the reluctant reaction to strong Western incentives and pressure, not the result of persuasion and internalization or habitualization. Third, in countries with an anti-liberal constellation, all Western socialization efforts failed. Progress has only been possible after regime change. In these cases, a shift took place. However, it was not a shift in the behaviour of the same ruling elites but a shift from one set of political elites to another, which had acquired norm-conforming beliefs before coming to power. Serbia in 2000 and Ukraine in 2004 fit this pattern. Finally, in the mixed-constellation countries, there has been a shift of behaviour of the same political actors, indeed. Initially non-compliant parties and policy makers eventually complied. This shift, however, has been the result of election failure and the recalculation of political costs and benefits, not persuasion. Just as in the liberal-constellation countries with initial human rights violations, it came as a result of strategic adaptation to changed circumstances. The change in political strategy and compliance after return to power are better explained as instrumentally rational behaviour under changed circumstances rather than as a shift in the logic of action. We propose two explanations to account for the discrepancies between the Risse, Ropp and Sikkink volume and our book. First, international socialization in post-Cold War Europe may be different from international socialization in the mostly ‘Southern’ regions (Latin America, Africa, Asia) on which the spiral model was inductively built. Second, however, there may be problems with the spiral model itself. Europe differs from other regions in the world by its densely institutionalized liberal international community. Thus, the core norms of liberal democracy are not only widely shared in this region, but Europe also has strong international institutions and powerful organizations, which promote and monitor these norms and make the distribution of important international rewards conditional upon compliance with them. This plausibly explains why transnational advocacy networks have played a redundant and complementary, rather than a necessary and driving role in the socialization process. Democratic socialization is a core programme activity of the European organizations, and their staff is continuously involved in

258 International Socialization in Europe

monitoring and reporting on the political situation in all European states, setting political conditions for assistance and membership, and making recommendations for improvement. Thus, it simply did not need the activity of a transnational advocacy network to put human rights on the agenda of the European organizations and mobilize them take action. In addition, the existence of powerful organizations, which provide states with important political resources, may undermine social processes of influence and persuasion. It may be argued that different logics of action operate on different time frames. In this perspective, the logic of consequences and the concomitant strategy of political conditionality seek to induce behavioural compliance in the short run. By contrast, the logic of arguing, and the concomitant strategies of social influence and persuasion, operate in a more extended time frame and opt for more long-term (but supposedly more stable) change. Rhetorical entrapment, persuasion, and cognitive change require more time than behavioural adaptations stimulated by strong and credible incentives. In this view, EU and NATO political conditionality superseded social influence and persuasion processes, put the target governments under pressure to react quickly to their demands, and did not (yet) give the learning and persuasion processes the time to unfold and ‘stick’. Alternatively, however, the reason for the theoretical discrepancy between The Power of Human Rights and our study may be found in problems of causal attribution. In their conclusions, Risse and Ropp categorize seven cases (or eight, if Indonesia is included) as cases of successful international socialization. In each of these cases, ‘a regime change preceded the dramatic improvement of human rights conditions and in many cases brought the domestic human rights network into power’ (Risse Ropp and Sikkink 1999: 241). This is far from convincing evidence for change through argumentative processes at the level of the targeted actors. Instead of being trapped in their rhetorical concessions and induced to act consistently with them, the human rightsviolating regimes had to be ousted or give up power before significant improvements in compliance were possible. Those who succeeded the old regimes were usually more strongly committed ideologically to democracy and human rights from the start – and not as a result of the socialization efforts of international organizations. They may have needed external support to come to power, and then technical assistance and occasional pressure to implement human rights and democratic rules fully, but they did not need to be persuaded of the virtues and legitimacy of liberal norms per se.2 Interpreted in this way, the success cases of the Risse, Ropp and Sikkink book fit our mixed-constellation or ‘second-revolution’ countries in which normviolating governments first had to be removed from power and replaced by liberal-democratic elites in order to move forward with the adoption of human rights and democratic norms. In our view, this process is compatible with a rationalist account of international socialization, and its explanation does not require the assumption of a shift in the logics of action. The theoretical

Conclusions 259 Table 16.1

Domestic constellations and democracy promotion

Party constellation

Effectiveness of political conditionality

Liberal Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland

Redundant with regard to general democratic change; high with regard to specific norm-violations

Monitoring and judicial enforcement within regional organizations

Antiliberal Belarus, Serbia (until 2000), Ukraine (until 2004)

Low

General membership perspective plus assistance to liberaldemocratic opposition

Mixed Bulgaria, Croatia, Romania, Slovakia, Serbia (since 2000), Ukraine (since 2004), Turkey

High

Credible conditional membership promise

Recommended strategy

difference between our book and The Power of Human Rights thus disappears on closer inspection.

Policy recommendations European regional organizations cannot create and stabilize democratic systems on their own. However, they are able to make a difference when domestic opportunities present themselves. Table 16.1 distinguishes three domestic constellations, their impact on the effectiveness of political conditionality and the policy recommendations that follow. It is the strongest finding of our study that, whatever the domestic constellation in the target country, the core prerequisite of an effective policy of human rights and democracy promotion in Europe is a credible conditional perspective of admission to the most attractive organizations. An open invitation to all European countries to become EU and NATO members once human rights and democratic institutions are firmly established may have been redundant with regard to democratic change in target countries with a liberal party constellation – but it has certainly supported democratic consolidation in general and has been highly instrumental in bringing about compliance with specific rule-violations, in particular in the realm of minority rights and protection. However, the positive effects of political conditionality have been consumed already for this group of target countries. They have become EU and NATO members already so that accession conditionality is not available anymore. However, the internal mechanisms of human rights monitoring and judicial enforcement of the Western international community (such as the CE’s system of human rights protection) are likely to be sufficient to ensure continued respect for human rights and democratic norms.

260 International Socialization in Europe

In the mixed-constellation countries, political conditionality has the potential to lock in democratic reforms and ‘civilize’ authoritarian, nationalist and populist political leaders and parties, once liberal-democratic parties have come to power and have introduced liberal-democratic reforms, which are rewarded by a credible EU and/or NATO membership perspective. The ‘sunk costs and rewards’ of democratic reform and first steps to membership then keep democratic consolidation on track and induce authoritarian parties in the opposition to rebrand themselves and adapt their political strategies. It is in these countries that political conditionality has had the greatest independent effect on democratic change and consolidation, and will continue to be relevant in the future. While Slovakia has already become a member in the EU and NATO, Bulgaria and Romania still need to clear some hurdles on their way to EU membership. Other countries currently in this category, such as Croatia, Macedonia, Serbia, and Turkey, still have a long way to go. In light of our study, the successful socialization of these countries requires a stable and credible conditional membership perspective. The recent ambivalence and reticence of the EU about negotiating full membership with Turkey and continuing enlargement in the Western Balkans is detrimental to democratic consolidation in these countries and must be overcome if the Western international community is to have a positive impact. Beyond these countries, however, conditions are less favourable to effective international influence in the short term. First, target countries need to be located in Europe, at least in part, to have a membership perspective in both organizations. This limits potentially effective international socialization by political conditionality to a few countries beyond those currently associated with the EU or in the process of negotiating association with the EU: Albania, Belarus, Bosnia-Hercegovina, Moldova, and Ukraine. Second, since political conditionality is ineffective vis-à-vis antiliberal, autocratic countries, target countries need democratic movements and parties that are able to produce and sustain an initial opening for reform and integration. Under these conditions, the EU and NATO should, first, act quickly to negotiate first steps of integration and establish a conditional membership perspective with countries such as Ukraine and Georgia in which democratic movements have been able to remove authoritarian regimes. This will provide a boost for further reforms and make authoritarian reversals more unlikely. Second, they need to maintain a credible membership promise for a considerable time. In most of the countries, the forces of democratization and democratic consolidation will take a long time to unfold and entrench themselves. Abandoning the strictly rewards-based policy of political membership conditionality is unlikely to produce better results. Coercive policies such as in Bosnia and Kosovo have been useful in stopping violent ethnic cleansing but have not accelerated either democratic consolidation or Western integration. On the other hand, there is no evidence that looser political accession criteria and a policy of ‘integration before consolidation’ would help.

Conclusions 261

Rather, the EU and NATO should back up their rewards-based strategy by significantly increased technical and financial assistance to liberal-democratic civil society and democratic movement organizations and parties or, better still, to NGOs that could then assist their partners in the target countries to build an effective infrastructure and strategy for change. The demonstration and learning effects of successful opposition movements from Serbia via Georgia to Ukraine are encouraging in this respect. Because of inconsistent voting patterns and weak democratic political cultures, European regional organizations will not be successful in appealing to the electorates of these countries directly. However, they can facilitate the emergence of powerful and efficient democratic movements and thus speed up the demise of authoritarian regimes when popular dissatisfaction creates a ‘revolutionary situation’. This would then create domestic opportunities for effective political conditionality.

Notes 1 See Jacoby (2004); Kelley (2004); Kubicek (2003); Schimmelfennig and Sedelmeier (2005); Vachudova (2005). 2 See Checkel (2000: 1139–41) for a similar criticism, from a constructivist vantage point, of the evidence for a shift in the logics of action.

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Index

accession 14, 29–31, 34, 37–8, 41, 44, 47–8, 52, 55, 80–2, 99, 108, 113, 118, 120–4, 135, 142, 148, 161–2, 166, 169, 184, 186, 195, 200–3, 206–16, 224, 226, 230, 241–2; criteria see Copenhagen Criteria; negotiations 9–11, 13, 38, 44, 46–8, 99, 109, 111, 114–15, 119, 123, 125, 135, 143–4, 155, 162, 164, 167, 170, 178, 189, 191, 193–4, 201, 208–9, 211–12, 230, 239, 240, 242, 249 Accession Partnership Document (APD) 98–9, 200, 210 acquis communautaire 60, 114, 212 action, logics of 17, 256–8 adaptation 9–11, 13, 26, 71, 103, 108, 140, 187, 241, 245–8, 258; strategic adaptation 9, 257 adoption 3, 6–7, 13, 19, 20, 28, 35–6, 45, 58, 119, 184–5, 193, 258; costs 12–13, 109, 234, 245 Advisory and Monitoring Group (AMG) 69–70, 73–4 Agenda 2000 see European Commission Ahtisari, Marti 190 Albania 46, 91, 260 Alliance of New Citizens (ANO) 125, 128–9 Andrejevs, Georgs 183, 185 Annan Plan 200, 212–14 Anna, Kofi 211, 214 appropriateness, logic of 2, 4, 17–18, 25, 41, 256 arguing, logic of 2, 258 association 6, 30, 34, 36–9, 46–7, 50–1, 67, 80–3, 185, 256, 260; agreement 9, 37, 45, 58, 99, 134, 138, 155, 177, 186, 201, 226

Association of the Workers of Slovakia (ZRS) 112, 117–18 Atatürk, Mustafa Kemal 97 Austria 208 Bahçeli, Devlet 100–2, 105, 205 Balkan 45, 62, 79, 82–4, 142, 222, 225, 244, 260; see also Albania, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, Kosovo, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, Slovenia, Stability Pact and Yugoslavia Balladur, Edouard 37, 113 Baltic Countries 1, 11, 34, 46, 62, 75, 137, 155, 178–8, 195, 245–6, 249, 256; see also Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania bargaining 2, 18, 21, 58, 60, 66, 109, 115, 141, 240; power 8, 20–6, 43, 51, 106, 118, 202; process 18, 240; see also rationalism Belarus 1, 11–12, 34, 39, 45–6, 50, 62, Chapter 5, 93, 97, 195, 232, 237, 248, 250, 259–60 Belgium 200 Birkavs, Valdis 180, 185, 187–90, 193 Bi-zonal Bi-communal Federation (BBF) 200, 202–4, 206, 210–11, 214–15 Blair, Tony 190 Bosnia see Bosnia-Herzegovina Bosnia-Herzegovina 8, 34, 38–9, 46, 48–50, 80, 82, 85–6, 90, 220, 222–3, 244, 260 Bulatovic´, Momir 221, 224–5 Bulgaria 1, 11, 34, 46–7, 54, 125, 247, 249, 250, 259–60 Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP) 250 Bush, George 75, 91 283

284 Index

Ceaus¸escu, Nicolae 132 CEEC (Central and East European Countries) 1, 11, 34, 37–8, 82–3, 99, 115, 128, 135, 144, 177, 247–9, 253 Cem, Ismael 102, 106, 210 Central and East European (CEE) 82 Central Europe 53, 62 Centre Party (CP) 157–9, 166 change, democratic 11, 114, 142, 221, 240, 253, 259–60 Charter of Paris 29, 223 Chechnya 50 Christian Democrat National Peasant Party (PNCTD) 136 Christian Democratic Movement (KDH) 125 Çiller, Tansu 101–2, 104, 208 Ciorbea, Victor 140–3 Civic Democratic Party Czech Republic (ODS) 250 Civil Liberties (CL) 27, 46, 67 Clerides, Glafcos 211 Clinton, Bill 29, 82 Coalition Party (COP) 157–8, 165, 250 coercion 3, 16–17, 39, 244 Cold War 1, 5–6, 9, 29–30, 34, 43, 48–9, 54, 62, 84, 220, 237, 243, 257 Commission see European Commission Communism 1, 34, 62, 71–2, 83, 158, 220, 245, 249; see also Soviet Union Communist Party of Slovakia (KSS) 128 conditionality 7–8, 11, 13–14, 36–8, 45, 69, 71–2, 78–9, 82–3, 88, 93, 99, 103, 105, 109, 113, 115–16, 118–21, 123–30, 134–5, 140, 142, 144, 149–50, 152, 155, 164–5, 167–72, 178, 183–6, 188–90, 193, 195, 199, 201–2, 208, 211–12, 215–16, 223, 227, 237, 249–50, 253, 257–61 conference 33, 91–2, 138, 194; Rambouillet Conference 82, 87

consequences, logic of 4, 256, 258 consistency 8, 23–5, 44–5, 52, 63, 244 Constantinescu, Emil 132, 140–1 constellations 63–4, 248; domestic constellations 259; party constellations 128, 243, 245–6, 248–52 constraints 18, 23, 26, 54, 73, 146; community constraints 9 constructivism 1; see also appropriateness, logic of cooperation agreements 9, 37, 45, 80, 177 Copenhagen Criteria 29, 38, 45, 99, 103, 107, 114, 123, 142–4, 148–9, 155, 164, 166, 178, 191, 215, 261; see also European Council Council of Europe (CE) 6–7, 9, 28–31, 34–6, 40–1, 52, 67–9, 73, 75, 91, 99, 113, 115, 119, 123, 134, 138–40, 142–3, 148, 152, 154–5, 160–2, 164–5, 169–70, 172, 177–8, 183, 184–7, 192, 195, 244, 259 Council of Higher Education of the Republic of Turkey (YÖK) 109 Council of Ministers 81, 86, 189, 226 credibility 12, 25, 54, 57–9, 61, 70–2, 81–3, 87–8, 93, 99, 103, 105, 107, 109, 116, 120, 125, 129, 134–5, 140, 142, 144–5, 149, 155, 160, 162–9, 176–8, 182–6, 188, 190, 192, 194–5, 201–2, 208, 210, 214–15, 223–4, 227, 232, 239, 241, 243, 255 Croatia 11, 34, 37, 46–7, 49, 54, 86, 91, 125, 220, 222–3, 247–8, 250, 252, 259–60 Croatian Democratic Union (HDZ) 247, 250 CSCE (Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe) 29–30, 34, 37, 99, 134, 154, 160, 176–7; see also OSCE Customs Union (CU) 104, 208 Cyprus 12, 14, 34, 62, 99, 135, Chapter 12, 220, 227, 237–8

Index 285

Czech Republic 11, 34, 46, 111, 115, 126, 222, 246, 249, 250, 253, 259 Czech Social Democratic Party (CSSD) 250 Czechoslovakia 111, 113 Dayton Peace Accord 39 Del Ponte, Carla 91–2 Demirel, Süleyman 101–2, 104, 205 Democratic Convention of Romania (CDR) 140–1, 143, 145, 250 Democratic Left Alliance Poland (SLD) 250 Democratic Left Party (DSP) 100–2, 104–7, 205, 208 Democratic Opposition of Serbia (DOS) 78, 80, 89, 91–3, 221, 223 Democratic Party (Slovakia) (DS) 128 Democratic Party (Turkey) (DP) 203–4, 214, 216 Democratic Party of Serbia (DSS) 89, 92 Democratic Party of SocialistsMontenegro (DPS-CG) 221, 224 democratic peace 27, 29 Democratic People’s Party (DEHAP) 108 Democratic Union of Slovakia (DÚ) 121 Denktas¸, Rauf 199, 203–5, 207–5 Denktas¸, Serdar 205, 214 Djindjic´, Zoran 12, 79, 84, 89–93, 221, 225 Djukanovic´, Milo 14, 221–2, 224–6 domestic conditions 10, 53, 58, 62, 64–6, 71–2, 78–9, 83, 89, 93–4, 97, 100, 102–3, 105–7, 116, 120–1, 129, 135–6, 140–1, 145, 149, 156, 160, 165, 168, 178, 188, 195, 202, 205, 207, 209, 211–16, 224–5, 246 Draškovic´, Vul 84 Dzurinda, Mikuláš 13, 111, 116, 121–5, 128–30

EBRD (European Bank for Reconstruction and Development) 83 Ecevit, Bülent 101, 105–6, 109, 205, 210 effectiveness 9–10, 14, 51–2, 55, 57–8, 62, 175, 188, 241, 245, 259; conditions of effectiveness 52, 240 EFTA (European Free Trade Area) 208, 215 endgame 169, 171, 194–5, 230, 238–9, 240–1; negotiations 240, 242 enlargement 8, 29, 41, 44–5, 47, 50–1, 54, 99, 202, 207, 244, 260; eastern enlargement 29, 50–1, 115, 125, 177, 209, 215, 244; EU enlargement 43, 51, 126, 135, 178, 190, 199; NATO enlargement 29, 47, 64, 114 Erbakan, Necmettin 100, 104, 108 Ertug ˘ruloglu, Tahsin 212 Estonia 12–13, 46–7, 62, Chapter 10, 175–8, 181, 194–5, 227, 232, 236, 238–9, 249–50, 257, 259 Estonian Citizen Party 157 Estonian National Independence Party (ENIP) 157 ethnic cleansing 48–50, 52, 80, 82, 87, 244, 260 Eurobarometer 127 Europe Agreement 50–1, 113, 115, 134, 162, 193, 194 European Charter on Regional and Minority Languages (ECRML) 91 European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) 28–9 European Commission 30, 47–8, 51, 91–2, 108–9, 113–14, 123, 135, 142–4, 147–9, 155, 166–7, 169–71, 178, 188–9, 191–4, 224–5; Agenda 2000 135, 208–9 European Community (EC) 37, 50, 61, 67, 79, 86, 103, 113, 134, 183, 200, 207, 244

286 Index

European Council 80, 85–6, 109, 211–12, 216, 224; Barcelona 225; Biarritz 80; Cologne 81; Copenhagen 29, 37, 107, 114, 135, 202, 211; Corfu 185, 207; Helsinki 99, 103, 123, 194, 199, 202, 210; Luxembourg 155, 209; Seville 211 European Economic Community (EEC) 28–9; Treaty of Rome 28 European identity 10, 60, 200, 202, 234, 236, 239 European Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR) 38 European Parliament (EP) 31, 37, 69, 104, 109, 114–15, 119 European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) 211 Fatherland and Freedom Union Latvia (TB) 179–81, 189, 190–3, 250 Fatherland Party (Estonia) (FP) 157 Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY) see Yugoslavia Fidesz (Hungarian Civic Alliance) 250 Finland 190, 208 Fischer, Joschka 82 Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM) see Macedonia Framework Convention on the Protection of National Minorities (FCPNM) 35, 91, 119, 138, 148 France 139, 142, 164, 208 Freedom House 46–8, 133, 249 G7 30 Georgia 260–1 Germany 51, 83, 139, 164, 190 Gorbachev, Michail 66 Greece 108, 201, 206–10, 215 Greek Cypriots (GC) 14, 200–2, 207, 215–16 Gül, Abdullah 211, 213 Gulf War 103, 136

habitualization 4, 257 Halonen, Tarja 194
Hamz ík, Pavol 120 Harmony Party 180 Helsinki Final Act 223 High Broad of Radio and Television (Turkey) (RTÜK) 108–9 High Commissioner on National Minorities (HCNM) 13, 30, 35, 119, 123, 134, 154, 160, 162, 164, 166–7, 169, 177, 183, 185–7, 190–2, 194 Holbrooke, Richard 85 Homeland Union/Conservatives Lithuania (TS) 250 Hungarian Democratic Forum (MDF) 250 Hungarian Democrats (HDUR) 136, 139–40, 145–6, 148 Hungarian Socialist Party (MSzP) 250 Hungary 11, 34, 46, 91, 115, 119, 120, 123, 126, 135, 138–9, 142, 246, 249, 250, 253, 259 identification 12–13, 25, 57–8, 60–1, 64, 71–2, 75, 83–4, 88–9, 100, 102, 105, 109, 116–17, 120–1, 130, 136–7, 140–1, 145–6, 149–50, 152, 157–8, 171, 178, 180, 183, 187, 195, 202, 205, 216, 224–5, 227–8, 234, 236–8, 240–1 Iliescu, Ion 13, 132, 135–9, 140, 145–9, 252 Ilves, Hendrik 171 IMF (International Monetary Fund) 83, 91, 147 impartiality 45, 52, 154, 244 Implementation Force (IFOR) 39 imposition 4 incentives 7, 12, 16–17, 19, 31, 33, 36, 38, 61, 72, 78, 80–3, 88, 91, 93, 99, 103, 105, 107, 113, 116, 120, 129, 134, 140, 145, 149, 155, 160, 163, 165–6, 168–9, 176–7, 182, 184, 186, 188, 192, 201, 204, 208, 210, 214, 223–4, 227–8, 232–3, 240, 245, 247, 253, 256–7; credible

Index 287

incentives 105, 233, 236–41, 258; external incentives 5, 10, 12, 26, 57, 78, 86, 88, 93, 105, 134–5, 144, 149, 155, 169, 176, 236–43; international incentives 75; mterial incentives 7, 35–6, 53, 70, 72, 150, 155, 183–4; membership incentives 10, 14, 53, 55, 58, 172, 233, 236–40, 242–3, 249, 252–3; negative incentives 82, 201; political incentives 240, 255; positive incentives 7, 201; social incentives 7, 9, 14, 36, 115; tangible incentives 7, 14, 58 Individual Partnership Programme (IPP) 39 institutionalism 16; constructivist institutionalism 17, 255; old institutionalism 4; rationalist institutionalism 16–18; sociological institutionalism 16, 18 institutionalization 4, 48; formal 5, 243 institutions 17, 27–9, 35, 37, 60, 69–70, 91, 97, 106, 114, 127, 133, 143, 168, 192–3, 225, 255; community institutions 25; democratic institutions 30, 36, 69, 259; international institutions 1, 16, 146, 247; political institutions 17, 112, 257 interdependence 8, 42–3, 45, 50, 54, 244; asymmetrical interdependence 43–4, 51 internalization 2, 4, 31, 93, 257 international conditions 8, 58, 62, 65, 70–2, 78, 81, 99, 105, 107, 116, 121, 132, 162, 188, 220 International Contact Group (ICG) 85–6 international organizations 1–2; see also Council of Europe, CSCE, EFTA, NATO, OECD, OSCE and United Nations International Relations (IR) 1, 16–17, 28, 100, 137

International War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague (ICTY) 12, 78–9, 81–3, 86, 88–9, 91, 93, 96, 220 Isarescu, Mugur 144, 148 Jurkans, Janis 179 Justice and Development Party (AKP) 13–14, 100–1, 103, 106–9, 206–7, 211–16
Karadzic´, Radovan 85, 90 Karayalcin, Murat 208 Kebich, Vyachaslav 66 Kemalism 97, 104–5; Kemalist Parties 13, 97, 205–6; see also Atatürk, Mustafa Kemal Kohl, Helmut 190 Kosovo 8, 12, 39–40, 48–50, 78–82, 84–8, 220–3, 227, 244, 260; War 84, 221 Kosovo Force (KFOR) 40, 81,
87 Kosovo Liberation Army (UCK) 80, 86–7 Koštunica, Vojislav 12, 79–80, 84, 88–93, 225
Kovác, Michal 112, 118 Krasts, Guntars 181, 188–9 Kristopans, Vilis 188, 193 Kukan, Eduard 122 Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) 98–9, 103, 105–6, 245 Laar, Mart 160–1, 169–70 Labus, Miroljub 225–6 Latin America 45, 257 Latvia 12, 46, 62, 155, 159, 175, 238, 249, 250–1, 257, 259 Latvian Agrarian Union (LZS) 179 Latvian National Independence Movement (LNNK) 179–81, 189–93, 250 Latvia’s Way 179–81, 184, 188, 190–1, 193–5, 250 learning 66, 116, 171, 191, 258, 261; extrinsic learning 17; intrinsic learning 17 legitimacy 1, 6, 10, 12, 19–25, 35, 44, 48, 51, 54, 57–61, 72, 75, 80–3, 88, 90, 93, 98–9, 103, 105, 107, 109, 111, 116, 120, 129–30, 134, 140, 144–5, 149,

288 Index

legitimacy – continued 155–6, 160, 163, 165–6, 168–9, 171, 182–4, 186, 188, 192, 195, 199, 201, 208, 210, 214, 216, 220, 223, 227, 232–3, 235–41, 245, 255, 258 legitimization 21 Liberal Democracy of Slovenia (LDS) 250 Lithuania 46–7, 246, 249–50, 259 Lithuanian Democratic Labour Party (LDDP) 250 Lukashenka, Alyaksandr 12, 50, 66–8, 70–6, 78, 97, 237, 250 Maastricht Treaty 28, 207 Macedonia 34, 46–7, 91, 195, 220, 222–3, 260 Malta 34, 99
Mec iar, Vladimir 13, 111–22, 124, 125–30, 237, 252 membership perspective 9, 12–14, 55, 59, 93, 99, 107, 109, 111, 126, 155, 166, 171, 177, 190, 201–2, 210, 230, 236–7, 240–2, 244, 246–7, 253, 260 Meri, Lennart 157, 165, 167–8 military control 99, 102 Miloševic´, Slobodan 34–5, 78–81, 83–93, 221, 223, 237, 250 Milutinovic´, Milan 82, 92 minority rights 11, 35, 37, 48, 55, 60–2, 70, 84, 91, 98, 100–7, 111, 116–17, 119, 121–3, 130, 132, 134, 137–8, 152, 155, 162, 176, 191, 205, 232, 238, 241, 253, 259 Mitterrand, François 183 Mladic´, Ratko 39, 92 Moldova 46, 260 Montenegro 12, 14, 38, 62, 91, Chapter 13, 232, 238–9
Moravcík, Jozef 11, 112 Motherland Party (ANAP) 100–2, 104–7, 206, 208 Movement for a Democratic Slovakia (HZDS) 13, 111–12, 116–20, 124–6, 128–9, 247, 250 multilateralism 27

Nastase, Adrian 147, 149 National Independence Party 157–8 National Programme for the Adoption of the Acquis (NPAA) 210 National Salvation Front (NSF) 132–3, 135–6, 141 National Security Council (NSC) 98–9, 103–4, 106, 108–9 National Unity Party (UBP) 203–4, 212, 214 Nationalist Action Party (MHP) 100–2, 105–7, 109, 205 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) 1, 6–7, 9–11, 13, 28–31, 34–6, 38–55, 58–9, 61, 64, 68, 81–4, 87–9, 111, 113–15, 117–19, 120–6, 128–30, 135, 138, 142, 144, 149, 169, 170–2, 178, 230, 232, 236–9, 241–2, 247–9, 252–3, 257–61; North Atlantic Council 39; see also PfP NATO–Russia Council 45 Netherlands 164 NGOs 33, 67, 69, 70, 73, 114, 126, 222, 261 North Atlantic Cooperation Council (NACC) 30, 50–1, 68 Northern Cyprus see Cyprus Öcalan, Abdullah 105–6 OECD 99 Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR) 30, 35 Operation Allied Force 40; see also Kosovo Operation Deliberate Force 39, 49; see also Bosnia-Herzegovina OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) 6–7, 9, 12–13, 31, 33–6, 39–42, 45, 52, 67–70, 72–6, 85, 87, 91, 119, 123, 138, 140, 142, 152, 154–5, 162, 164–72, 177–8, 183, 186, 190–2, 194, 226, 244 Our Home is Estonia (HE) 157 Özal, Turgut 101–3, 206

Index 289

Papadopoulos, Tassos 215–16 Papandreou, Andreas 208 Papandreou, George 209 Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PA) 31, 35, 69, 75, 123, 134, 154, 161, 177 Parliamentary Troika 69, 75 Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) 67–8, 70 Party of Civic Understanding (SOP) 121, 124–5, 130 Party of Greater Romania (PRM) 136, 139, 145–7 Party of Romanian National Unity (PUNR) 136, 139 Party of Social Democracy of Romania (PDSR) 132–3, 135–7, 139–41, 145–49, 247–8, 250, 252 Party of the Democratic Left (SDL) 121–5, 130 Party of the Hungarian Coalition (SMK) 121–5 Patten, Chris 83, 92, 227 Peace and Democracy Movement (BDH) 214 People’s Democracy Party (HADEP) 100–3, 108 persuasion 3, 7, 31, 33–6, 40, 42, 52, 58, 60, 93, 152, 183, 187, 194, 244–5, 255, 257–8 PfP (Partnership for Peace) 30, 34, 39, 45, 50–1; see also NATO PHARE 30, 37–8, 81, 86 Poland 11, 34, 46, 115, 126, 246, 249, 250–1, 253, 257, 259 policy recommendations 259 Political Rights (PR) 27, 46–7, 67, 70, 153, 155–6, 165, 185 Popular Front (Latvia) 180, 182 Post-Solidarity Parties 250 Pro Patria (PP) 157–8, 163, 165–6, 168–70, 250 Prodi, Romano 91, 147 punishments 6–8, 20, 24, 31–3, 35–6, 38–40, 42–4, 58, 70, 80–2, 87–8, 93, 115, 202, 209, 224, 244

Qualitative Comparative Analysis (QCA) 230–2, 234, 236–7, 239, 241–2 Ragin, Charles 230, 238 rationalism 1; see also bargaining Rafahyol 104 referendum; Belarus 67–8, 75; Cyprus 14, 212, 215, 238; Estonia 162; Latvia 181, 190–1, 193, 195; Montenegro 221–6; Romania 148; Slovakia 112, 126 Regional Approach (RA) 12, 78–83, 85 Rehn, Olli 91 reinforcement 6–9, 20, 24–5, 31–2, 34–5, 59, 125, 247; by punishment 7–8, 32–3, 37, 244; by reward 7–8, 31–2, 36, 82–3, 244, 246, 248; by support 7, 32–3; material reinforcement 7, 32, 36, 246; social reinforcement 7, 32–6, 244 report 31, 35–6, 38, 69–70, 74–5, 135, 164, 166, 170, 177, 192, 194, 202, 211; progress report 38, 82, 91, 107, 144, 169, 171, 191, 193; regular report 30, 123, 135, 143, 148–9, 155, 167, 170, 194; see also European Commission Republic of Cyprus (RoC) see Cyprus Republican People’s Party (CHP) 100–2, 105, 107–9, 205 Republican Turkish Party (CTP) 203, 205, 214, 216 resonance 10, 12–13, 23, 25, 57–8, 60, 64, 71, 75, 83–4, 88–90, 97, 100–3, 105, 109, 116–17, 120–1, 129–30, 135–6, 140, 144, 146, 149–50, 157–8, 160, 162–3, 169, 171–2, 175, 178–81, 183–4, 188, 194, 203, 205–6, 210–11, 213–14, 216, 224–5, 232, 236–41, 249, 255; elite resonance 169; party resonance 101; rule resonance 157, 169, 171

290 Index

revolution 89, 93, 132, 135, 137, 221, 248, 258; bloody revolution 132, 137; see also Romania rewards 9, 20, 24, 32–8, 40, 42, 52, 54, 58, 70–1, 80–3, 88, 115, 120, 130, 134, 154, 206, 247–8, 257, 260–1; see also incentives rhetorical action 21, 23, 51–2 rhetorical entrapment 258 Rice, Condoleezza 75 Robertson, George 125 Roma 91, 115, 132–3, 142–4, 147, 149 Roman, Petre 135–6, 140–1 Romania 1, 11–13, 34, 37–8, 46–7, 54, 62, 91, 125, Chapter 9, 247, 250, 52, 259–60 rule adoption 2–4, 6, 9–10, 20, 25, 46, 52, 54–5, 58–60, 109, 245–7, 249, 253; see also adoption rule of law 5, 24, 27–9, 35, 37, 62, 67, 74, 80, 82, 111, 113, 116, 120–3, 129, 134, 142, 144, 152, 157, 180 Russia 11, 35, 38, 43–6, 51, 68, 71–2, 84, 117, 137, 157–8, 160, 182–4, 187, 248, 250–1; see also Soviet Union Russian Party (Estonia) (RP) 157 russification 176 salience 22–5, 116, 118, 240 Santer, Jacques 37, 138 Savisaar, Edgar 157 Schröder, Gerhard 80, 82 Schuster, Rudolf 123 self-differentiation 39 Serbia 1, 11–12, 14, 35, 40, 54, Chapter 6, 125, 136, 195, 220–6, 238, 248, 251, 257, 259–61; see also SerbiaMontenegro and Yugoslavia Serbia and Montenegro see SerbiaMontenegro Serbia-Montenegro 8, 34, 37–8, 224, 226–7, 248, 250 Serbian Socialist Peoples’ Party (SPS) 78–9, 83–5, 88, 92, 221, 250 Šešelj, Vojislav 84, 86

Shushkevich, Stanislau 66 Siiman, Mart 158–9, 163, 165, 167, 172 Skele, Andris 181, 186 Slovak Democratic and Christian Union (SKDÚ) 125 Slovak Democratic Coalition (SDK) 114, 121, 125, 128, 250 Slovak National Party (SNS) 112, 117–20, 128 Slovakia 1, 11–13, 46–7, 62, Chapter 8, 150, 222, 237, 247, 250, 252, 259–60 Slovenia 11, 46–7, 135, 220, 222–3, 246, 249–51, 253, 257 Slovenian People’s Party (SLS) 250 Social Democratic Party (PSD) 145–6 Social Democrats Croatia (SDP) 250 social influence 9, 21, 23, 25, 51–2, 55, 60, 152, 154, 162, 172, 177, 186–7, 189, 194, 255, 258 Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) 220, 222–3 Socialist Labour Party (PSM) 136 Socialist People’s Party of Montenegro (SNP) 221, 224 Solana, Javier 87, 123, 224–6 Soviet Union 1, 30, 34, 37, 43, 45–6, 67, 70–1, 152–3, 155, 222–3, 248; see also Russia and Communism Srebrenica 39, 49 Srpska, Republika 85, 222–3; see also Bosnia-Herzegovina Stability Pact (SP) 12, 78–83, 85, 88–90, 119, 135, 138, 221 Stabilization and Association Agreement (SAA) 91–2, 224–7 Stabilization and Association Process (SAP) 82–3, 88–90 State Security Courts (DGM) 109 statelessness 153, 155–6, 159–60, 163, 166, 168–9, 176, 182, 184–8, 191, 195 strategic action 5, 8, 9, 14, 16–21, 23, 25, 41, 58 strategy 6–7, 33, 36, 40–2, 48, 69–70, 75, 85, 90–9, 148, 153,

Index 291

163, 202, 207, 210, 213–15, 234, 238, 244, 257–9, 261; exclusive strategy 7, 31, 34, 40; inclusive strategy 7, 31; reinforcement strategy 7, 36, 40, 42, 82, 246 Summit 167, 200, 207; Copenhagen 37, 114, 184, 211; EU–Russia 45; Helsinki 109, 123, 135, 170, 194, 238; Laeken 148; Luxembourg 167, 178, 189; Madrid 135, 142; Paris 37; Prague 68, 115 Supreme Council; Estonia 153; Latvia 176, 180–1 Sweden 208 TACIS 30, 37–8, 68–9, 74 Talat, Mehmet Ali 203, 205, 214, 216 The Moderates 158 The New Party 179–80 The Right Wingers 157 transformation 1, 2, 12, 30, 34, 43, 52–3, 57, 66, 83, 158, 186, 243, 246, 253, 257 Treaty on European Union (TEU) 28–9 True Path Party (DYP) 100–2, 104, 205, 208 truth table 231–2, 234–5, 238 Tudor, Corneliu Vadim 145 Turkey 12–14, 34–5, 38, 62, Chapter 7, 195, 199, 200–16, 237, 245, 259–60 Turkish Armed Forces (TAF) 98, 102, 104, 106, 109, 206 Turkish Communist Party (TKP) 203, 214 Turkish Cypriots (TC) 199, 200–5, 207–9, 211–12, 214–16 Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC) 14, 199, 201–5, 207–12, 214, 216; see also Cyprus Turkmenistan 69 Ukraine 11, 35, 38, 46, 68, 71–2, 248, 250–1, 257, 259–61 Ulmanis, Karlis 181, 185, 190–1 Union of Democratic Forces Bulgaria (UDF) 250

Union of Economics 180–1 United Nations (UN) 14, 38, 49, 73, 81, 83, 86–7, 91, 99, 176, 199, 200, 206–7, 209–13, 215, 223, 226, 238; Security Council 83, 98–9 Unity Party 180 UNMIK 87 US (United States) 29, 51, 55, 68, 70, 74–5, 83, 91–2, 113–15, 124–5, 190, 211, 213, 221
Ushtria Clirimtare e Kosoves (UCK) 80, 86–7 Uzbekistan 70 Vacaroiu, Vasile 137–8 Vahi, Tiit 158, 163–4 Valdis, Birkavs 180, 184 Van den Broek, Hans 166, 187–91 Van der Stoel, Max 123, 177, 183–4, 189, 194 variable 58–60, 239; dependent 57, 63–4, 232; independent 57, 63–4, 232, 249 Vasile, Rudu 143–4 Venice Commission 30, 35 Verheugen, Günter 99, 124–5, 147, 210, 213, 215 Vike-Freiberga, Vaira 193 Visegrád Four 115; see also Czeck Republic, Hungary, Poland and Slovakia Vujanovic´, Filip 225 Warsaw Pact 62 Weiss, Gunther 194 Welfare Party (Turkey) (RP) 104 westernization 1, 97, 178 World War II 28, 117, 152, 155 Yilmaz, Mesut 101–2, 104–5, 206 Yugoslavia 14, 30, 34, 38, 40, 46, 48–52, 62, Chapter 6, 97, 134, 136, 220–6, 237; see also Montenegro, Serbia and SerbiaMontenegro Zana, Leyla 104 Zapf, Uta 74–5 Zepa 39, 49 Zizic´, Zoran 92