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European Defence and the Demands of Strategic Autonomy

Fundamental changes in the international system are calling into question the EU’s understanding of itself as a security and defence actor. Challenges such as the rise of China, Russia’s hybrid tactics, questions about the long-term durability of the transatlantic relationship, the risk that terrorist groups may seek to fill strategic vacuums, threats to the global commons and maritime routes, the COVID-19 pandemic, and climate change are driving debates on European Union (EU) security and defence. What is more, these threats and challenges are gradually becoming the yardstick against which EU strategic autonomy is being measured. The EU no longer inhabits the prosperous, secure or free world that it referred to in the 2003 Security Strategy. The 2016 EU Global Strategy made clear that the Union needs to invest greater energy into protecting Europe and its citizens. More recently, in November 2020, the EU conducted its first-ever classified intelligence-led threat analysis for security and defence. It painted a bleak picture for the Union over the next 5-10 years. The forthcoming ‘Strategic Compass’ is to serve as a pathfinder for a response to these challenges and threats by rejuvenating the EU’s approach to crisis management, resilience, capabilities and partnerships.
Yet there is a disconnect between the threats facing the EU, the will that exists for political action, and the required capacities. Consequently, critics of the concept of strategic autonomy point to the mismatch between rhetorical ambition and the reality of (in)action. This contribution to the forum briefly probes this problem and argues that it will not be any easier for the EU to provide for its security and defence after the Strategic Compass is delivered for two reasons: first, the original interpretation of crisis management is over; and second, the Union will over time have to assume more of a role for its own territorial security. Strategic autonomy will be forged in the Union’s response to these dual concerns.
Managing the crises of the future
For more than twenty years, the EU has defined success in security and defence as an ability to autonomously undertake crisis management and capacity-building missions and operations. In a basic sense, it has achieved this goal as it has deployed over 30 civilian and military missions and operations to regions such as the Sahel, the Horn of Africa and the Western Balkans. However, for all of this success, there are questions about the EU’s ability to comprehensively undertake and lead on military operations. The Union was absent from Libya and Syria, even though these conflicts were the type of operations the EU should have been able to conduct. What is more, even when European states did conduct air operations in Libya in 2011 they struggled: Europeans were responsible for 90% of all air-strike sorties, but the Americans contributed 85% of the fuel and intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) capabilities required.[1] Beyond military operations, the EU will increasingly face risks when engaged with military capacity-building as adversaries could be better equipped and third states such as Russia or China could offer more attractive equipment packages to partner states.
It is worth asking whether the EU would be better prepared for a Libya-style campaign today than it was a decade ago. Most contemporary crisis management concepts are emerging in response to the geopolitical realities of the day. Consider how Russia is embedded in Syria and Libya. Observe how Turkey’s hostile actions in the Eastern Mediterranean are increasingly bound up with its interests in Libya. See how China, with its naval foothold in Djibouti, has also conducted live exercises in the Mediterranean. If the EU has struggled to militarily assert itself in the permissive environments that characterised the turn of the millennium, then there are legitimate questions about whether it can realistically cope in less permissive operational theatres characterized by the presence of great powers, continued asymmetric pressures (such as terrorism), sophisticated technology, hybrid threats (including cyber-attacks and disinformation campaigns) and structural risks (most notably climate change).
Protecting Europe
The EU has stated that it should be prepared to protect Europe. EU Treaties establish the political foundation for territorial defence, as the Mutual Assistance and Solidarity Clauses stress that the Union and its member states should come to the assistance of other member states that are subject to terrorist attacks or man-made and natural disasters on their territories. For reasons related to nuclear and conventional defence, most EU member states that are part of NATO stress Article 5 of the Washington Treaty as the bedrock of their collective defence. However, the EU’s own provisions are particularly important for those EU member states that are not in NATO. In reality, even NATO-EU members can see merit in activating both the Alliance and the Union in times of crisis. Yet, what the protection of the EU means in practice remains unclear, especially when it comes to potential military support.
For the foreseeable future, the Union will not focus on nuclear deterrence or confront Russia militarily. In any case, there is a wider debate about whether European allies of NATO can deter Moscow without American support. Some scholars argue that Europe has ‘sufficient force structure in terms of brigades and squadrons to do so.[2] Others believe that self-sufficiency in defence is a mirage that would require rapid investments amounting up to US$357 billion[3] and the development of integrated command structures and relevant C4ISR capacities.[4] However far apart EU members and European NATO allies are when it comes to this debate, it is perhaps noteworthy that the defence projects being developed under the European Defence Fund and Permanent Structured Cooperation (including unmanned ground systems, electronic attack capabilities and stealth technologies) seek to boost Europe’s deterrence and military edge.
In search of credibility
The EU’s ability to manage crises and to protect Europe will face significant challenges – in a more geopolitically hostile world, this much is clear. The question is how to remedy the situation. Some of the answers are staring EU governments directly in the face, and have been for years: 1) there is a need for more defence spending to sustain an expansion and modernisation of armed forces; 2) the EU needs to get better at mobilizing the political will to utilise the military before adversaries do so in zones of interest for the Union; and 3) there is a need to dedicate more armed forces for EU missions and operations, as well as to put in place an effective and robust command and control structure. We do not need the Strategic Compass to instinctively understand these challenges, but what if EU member states do not respond to them?
Short of these three factors, the EU can still re-conceptualise how it conducts crisis management and capacity building, and it can provide clearer guidance for what the protection of Europe means in practice from the perspective of security and defence. Here, geographical proximity and intensity should be the watchwords of EU engagement – the Union should be able to respond alone to crises that stand a chance of spreading into the EU and that close partners have no interest in conducting themselves. This means re-ordering how the EU rapidly deploys technologically advanced forces and capabilities to zones of interest. Additionally, the EU needs to prepare for how land conflicts will interact with the space, maritime, air and cyber domains. In this regard, force packages need to be better integrated through mechanisms such as PESCO to provide the EU with the military capacities required to protect logistics and supply lines, deter action by third powers, and penetrate anti-access-area denial bubbles.
When it comes to protecting Europe, the first task will be fulfilling existing projects such as military mobility. In addition, there needs to be an expanded vision for critical infrastructure protection, critical supply security and border management. A direct military response will not always be required, but there is a need to have integrated planning between European Commission services, the EU Military Staff and the European External Action Service. What is more, the EU can focus its operational response on territorial security in the short term by rapidly investing in cyber defence and hybrid capacities and response teams. There is a need to strategise about how the EU can proactively respond to hybrid threats; for example, this could involve significantly boosting the resources and size of the EU’s Hybrid Fusion Cell while better linking it to NATO structures.
The EU’s response to the disconnect highlighted at the start of this essay should be ambitious but gradual. Past failures and modest successes will cast a shadow over the Strategic Compass process. By March 2022, when the Compass is delivered, the EU should have a clearer understanding of the military and in what ways it could consider employing it in a more dangerous world. Once the Compass is delivered, there should not be any need for further reflection for the next few years – political action, investments and operational credibility will be the only measures of success.
The Hague Centre for Strategic Studies, 2021
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The EU’s Presence and Strategy in the Indo-Pacific

Throughout 2021, it was clear to all external actors that the EU was set to produce a strategy for cooperation in the Indo-Pacific. After initial Council of the EU Conclusions on 19 April 2021 that set out the main parameters for EU engagement, the European Commission and High Representative set about refining how the EU would boost its presence in the Indo-Pacific region. This was by no means a simple task as only France, Germany and theNetherlands had articulated national positions or strategies on the Indo-Pacific. Indeed, it was not clear how far other EU Member States would buy-in to the process. In this respect, the EU strategy had to stimulate a genuinely EU-wide common interest in the Indo-Pacific and avoid ‘free-riding’ on the backs of those European states with an existing presence in the region.
CSCAP, Regional Security Outlook 2022
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Naval Gazing: The Strategic Compass and the EU’s Maritime Presence

Abstract
The EU and its member states will find it increasingly difficult to sustain the rules-based order and the Union’s own economic prosperity without a sizeable and consist- ent investment in maritime power. The politics of the EU’s approach to maritime security is conditioned by questions of geographical priorities and how to balance ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ maritime risks. The Strategic Compass should set measurable targets that lead to a higher and more credible EU naval presence, and it may even instigate a shift in the way the EU thinks about maritime security more broadly.
EUISS Policy Brief, 2021, No. 16
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European Sovereignty: Strategy and Interdependence

Abstract
The notion of European ‘strategic sovereignty’ is increasingly important to debates about the European Union. Given rapidly shifting global geopolitical and technology trends, and the seeming fragmentation of the multilateral order, the EU is being forced to confront its own position in international affairs. A number of concepts have been given life because of the deteriorating international scene including ‘European sovereignty’, ‘strategic autonomy’, ‘digital sovereignty’, ‘technological sovereignty’ and ‘open strategic autonomy’. However defined, there is a need to move beyond concepts and focus on the practical nature of economic and technological interdependence, multilateralism and strategic partnerships.
This Chaillot Paper zooms in on each of these elements of the debate about European sovereignty with case studies that centre on semiconductors, the Iran nuclear deal and EU security and defence partnerships with the United States and United Kingdom. The volume also includes an introductory chapter that grapples with three major conceptual observations about the term strategic sovereignty.
Chaillot Paper, EU Institute for Security Studies, No. 169 (written with Riccardo Alvaro, Niclas Poitiers, Jana Puglierin, Pauline Weil and Guntram Wolff)
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Securing the Heavens: How can Space Support the EU’s Strategic Compass?

Abstract
Despite political and industrial divergences between EU member states, space will play an indispensable role in the Strategic Compass. Space is a strategic enabler that can enrich the EU’s approach to crisis management, resilience, capabilities and partnerships, and the Compass is an opportunity to upgrade the status of space and defence within the context of the EU’s broader space policy.
In line with the EU’s Threat Analysis presented in November 2020*, any response to geopolitical rivalry, military threats, crisis management, climate change, failed states, globalisation and critical supply and communications requires robust space imaging, surveillance, tracking, communication, positioning and navigation capacities.
The Strategic Compass could lead to initiatives such as the development of a dedicated EU Space and Defence Strategy, investing in existing EU space bodies, financing counter anti-satellite weapon technologies, deploying space attachés in EU delegations, capitalising on the EU Government Satellite Communications programme (GovSatCom) and the Galileo Public Regulated Service (PRS) and more.
EUISS Policy Brief, 2021, No. 9
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Le canal et l’Union : comment la nouvelle crise de Suez déstabilise la géopolitique de l’espace maritime européen

Depuis quelques jours, un porte-conteneurs géant embourbé dans les sables du canal de Suez bloque 12 % du commerce mondial. Que révèle l’affaire Ever Given de l’espace maritime européen ? Dans cette étude, Daniel Fiott montre qu’il ne faut pas négliger la dimension géostratégique de cet événement.
Le Grand Continent, 2021
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The EU’s Strategic Compass for Security and Defence: What Type of Ambition is the Needle Pointing to?

Abstract
For the past twenty years, the EU has deployed numerous missions and operations to different parts of the world and it has agreed on a suite of new initiatives to boost capability development, synchronise defence investment plans and enhance operational capacity. However, there is still a fundamental question facing the EU and its Member States: where is the security and defence policy heading in light of rising geopolitical challenges? Is there a common threat perception among member states? The Strategic Compass offers a way forward on crisis management, resilience, capabilities and partnerships, but it will mean little without sustained political engagement by EU member states. To enhance the EU’s operational capacity, this policy brief argues that it could break the taboo on organising live joint civil-military exercises, it should use the EU Treaties to allow certain member states to undertake specific security and defence tasks and it needs to invest in protecting contested spaces in the global commons.
CSDS Policy Brief, 2021, No. 2
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European Defence, Investment and the Covid-19 Pandemic

Introduction
“Please answer the question!” proclaimed newly elected Member of the European Parliament (MEP) Klarissa de Jong. Sitting in an almost empty parliamentary committee room, one of the assembled officials from the Euro- pean Commission retorted: “any decision to invest in capability development through the European Defence Fund is taken by national capitals. We cannot be held responsible for their decisions”. Disgruntled, and annoyed that member state representatives could not be held accountable in the same way, MEP de Jong was dissatisfied with the response. “While I recognise that the Fund did not get the best start back in 2021 with a reduced budget of €7 billion and not the €13 billion you had asked for, the bot- tom line is that the Commission’s own analysis showed that you expected to unlock €4 billion in national investments for every €1 billion spent under the Fund. Tell me, what strategies had you put in place to ensure that you had sufficient member state investment guarantees?”. There was silence in the committee room.
The MEP’s line of questioning, while math- ematically inaccurate, was nevertheless also echoed in a series of think tank commentary pieces that followed the committee hearing (many more watched the hearing online). One report by the Centre for European Security Affairs (CESA) argued that:
“Back in 2018, the Commission asked for €13 billion (actually €11 billion if one uses 2018 prices), but by 2020 this had been cut back to €7 billion. Since 2021, the Commission has had to make do with €2.2 billion for defence research and €4.8 billion for capability development for a 7-year period. The US military spends a simi- lar amount on procuring uniforms, so how was this ever going to revolutionise EU defence? Worse still, and largely owing to the pandemic, the €4.8 billion window has failed to leverage the expected 1:4 factor (some €19 billion) in member state commitments.”
Chaillot Paper, EU Institute for Security Studies, 2021, No. 163
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Virtual Congo: Or the Limits of Technological Superiority

Introduction
“Damn it!” Hidden behind an armoured vehicle, and looking down at the private’s blood-soaked body, Corporal Kohler began to breathe heavily as bullets whistled past his head. It was the sixth man he had lost this week. As he looked at the court house located in the Poto Poto neighbourhood, he could hear the hum of a distant helicopter, which was soon to land in an adjacent field to the Congolese national civil aviation authority. As the smoke from the flare bellowed into the air, his comrades shouted: “prepare to board the aircraft before we are overrun!” As he ran towards the helicopter he was shot in the head by a sniper. Taking off his headset, Kohler let out a sigh of relief and regained his composure. “OK, this is really getting realistic now… I mean, I am supposed to be dead, right?”
Kohler had already seen active duty in Brazzaville and he had been advising Paris and Berlin on its military Virtual Reality (VR) programme – called ‘Project Adelphi’ – since the late 2020s. Project Adelphi was initially set up to enhance cyber defences, but by the late 2020s the project had moved on to a second phase of development that assisted operation commanders with the use of VR technology. The VR system would receive live situation feeds from troops based in Brazzaville, and the information was converted into realistic pre-deployment training scenarios for troops. In a sense, the Europeans were fighting a real and virtual war at the same time.
“It’s getting better”, he said, “but it gets dark much earlier in Brazzaville and there is some- thing not quite right about the red hue used for the evacuation flares.”
The reality was that the Europeans needed all of the technological help they could get. Europe’s forces had been fighting the militias of the Congolese Party of Labour (CPL) and their allies on the streets of Brazzaville since 2028, but without making any headway – they were winning the virtual war, but losing the real one. War erupted in Congo in 2027 following the death of President Denis Sassou Nguesso in late 2026. Although Nguesso had likely died from natural causes, CPL supporters cried foul play and propagandists hit the government-run Radiodiffusion Télévision Congo to blast opposition forces for poisoning him. They even blamed ‘foreign imperialist powers’ for conspiring to overturn socialism.
The mind-boggling dimension to the war, however, was that despite the Europeans’ technological superiority they were still hemmed in in Brazzaville and had not ventured outside of the security parameter set up around the Eurocorps headquarters at Maya Maya airport. Pointe-Noire and the rest of the country was still in CPL hands. While it is true that the CPL utilised guerrilla tactics, it was as if the militias were always one step ahead of European forces on intelligence. So, for example, when intelligence assessments showed that CPL militias were planning to attack the World Health Organisation office on Avenue du Général De Gaulle, the attack would take place at the Palaisdes Congrès on Boulevard des Armées instead. For all of the advances embodied by Project Adelphi, European soldiers were still coming home in body bags at an alarming rate and this had badly affected morale. Many European troops half-joked that a trip to Brazzaville was a ‘one way ticket’.
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The summer of 2030 was the bloodiest phase of the conflict for the Europeans – since their deployment in 2028 Eurocorps had lost 400 troops. It was a brave political decision by European leaders to deploy Operation Vanguard to protect their oil interests in Congo, the operation began as a genuine peace-keeping deployment 100 to separate the CPL and opposition Pan-African Union for Social Democracy (UPADS) militias. The death of President Nguesso was the trigger for the conflict, but the reality was that his death exposed deeper problems such as years 75 of poverty and inequality and the huge loss of oil revenues given chronically low crude prices throughout the 2020s – Congo relied on oil for 50% of its GDP.
Early in 2030, the fighting intensified as the UPADS called for the exiled Mireille Lissouba – who had replaced her late father as the head of the party – to return as the rightful leader of Congo. The CPL was also rejuvenated as 25 it acquired ever more sophisticated weaponry that docked in Pointe-Noire. Additionally, the Chinese government announced a new round of debt relief for the country, which alleviated the financial strains. Many had thought that the Chinese would intervene militarily themselves, and they had every reason to given their close relationship with the CPL. The 2026 Beijing Summit of the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation (FOCAC) had stressed the importance of Congo to the Belt and Road Initiative, and it was no secret that Beijing wanted to invest in port infrastructure in Pointe-Noire – there were even reports that China wanted to build its first Atlantic Ocean naval base there. Yet, the Chinese resisted the temptation to directly intervene.
Approximately 1,200 Eurocorps troops were deployed to Brazzaville, and in 2030 they were still locked down in the capital. CPL forces had cut off the two major roads (the RN1 and RN2) into the capital and Maya Maya airport was the only safe logistical spot for the Europeans. Eurocorps patrols would leave the safe zone near the airport for regular reconnaissance trips, but it was still too risky to venture too far. The population density of Brazzaville did not help. The 1.7 million residents living in the city accounted for more than a quarter of Congo’s total population, and sanitary conditions and the built environment of densely packed houses made the combat zone rather inhospitable.
However, 2 years after the initial deployment European forces were still on the back foot and Project Adelphi was not helping with military intelligence gathering. For example, in the spring of 2030 it was made known to Eurocorps that CPL forces had taken up command posts in Brazzaville’s 9 major hospitals. Yet when European forces decided to storm the Hôpital d’Instruction des armées de Brazzaville, CPL snipers picked off troops from high rise buildings on Avenue de l’Amitié. Eurocorps forces believed that recently installed CCTV cameras were feeding information to CPL forces, but most were taken out and still CPL forces were one step ahead. What is more, when Eurocorps attempted to run public communication campaigns through text and internet messages frequent communication blackouts would occur at the same time. Such blackouts would never occur when the CPL were running their own public strategic communication campaigns.
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By mid-2031 the game was up for European forces. After three years of combat in Brazzaville, and following the loss of over 520 soldiers (among them Corporal Kohler), Eurocorps governments were calling time on Operation Vanguard. This decision was not taken lightly, but a major media report by Le Monde and the Süddeutsche Zeitung gave no option. The special report stated that European forces were being outwitted in Brazzaville by a smartphone app called ‘Clé’. This was hardly news, as recovered smartphones had revealed that Clé was used as the primary communication tool between CPL forces. European intelligence also knew that CPL fighters used Elikia and Moke smart-phones, which were produced by the Congolese tech-firm VMK – the company shipped generic phones in from Shenzhen, China, before stamping them with ‘Made in Congo’.
This was not the real story, though, as it was revealed that Clé was not just a messaging app – it was actually used as a geolocation tracker of all European troops based in Brazzaville. No wonder CPL forces could target European troops so easily and deceive them so readily in Brazzaville’s labyrinthine streets. All of the communications and sensor technologies used by Eurocorps forces – from smart watches to satellite communications – were being used by CPL militias to pick off European troops. Clearly, VMK did not possess the technological know-how to make this work and the Le Monde and Süddeutsche Zeitung report revealed two further pieces of earth shattering news.
First, according to reliable sources Clé was connected to a mainframe system colloquially called ‘Écluse’. It was not clear how Écluse functioned but the theory was that it was a supercomputer system that combined geolocation tracking data with other information stolen from European forces. The report went on, secondly, to reveal that Project Adelphi’s VR scenarios had also been hacked by a foreign intelligence service. As Adelphi was using real-time battle information to help European forces gain more situational awareness of the conflict in Brazzaville, it was simultaneously being hacked to reveal European tactics and strategic assessments. The more and more Europeans learned about the war through Adelphi, the more and more Écluse would relay the information to CPL handsets via the Clé app. Beijing had denied any role, but it did not matter: Europe had lost both its virtual and real wars.
Chaillot Paper, EU Institute for Security Studies, No. 161
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Going viral? EU defence and the response to COVID-19

By now, we are familiar with the serious risks posed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Militaries across Europe have been praised for their role in delivering medical supplies, transporting patients, testing citizens and building makeshift hospitals. Notwithstanding the current second and possible future waves of the virus, however, attention is turning away from response towards the long-term economic implications of the pandemic on European defence. In this respect, many analysts were quick off the mark to document the potential dangers that COVID-19 could have for defence budgets and capability development. These analysts rightfully pointed out that any future budgetary “black hole” left after the virus would have a dramatic effect on European defence, and more than the 2008 financial crisis ever did. The simple math shows what they mean. In 2008, a -4.5 per cent drop in EU GDP resulted in a 24 billion euro fall in defence spending over six years. Today, the European Commission calculates that the EU will experience a -7.2 per cent drop in GDP in 2020 alone.
Paper in “The Quest for European Strategic Autonomy – A Collective Reflection”, 2020