The Herd Moves

I do like UnHerd, wherein Jennifer Kavanagh writes:

When John Ratcliffe, director of the CIA, visited Moscow earlier this week, he reportedly warned Russian officials against attacks targeting European neighbours. The surprise trip amplified already widespread fears across the continent that Vladimir Putin, frustrated with the lack of progress in Ukraine, would soon expand his war and “test Nato” with a strike aimed at Europe.

The risks of escalation between Europe and Russia are real and rising. But the prevailing narrative — that Putin sees a window of opportunity to undermine Nato’s credibility — misunderstands the drivers of that escalation. Retaliation and insecurity, not aggression, are the biggest causes of confrontation between Europe and Russia today, and reassurance, not military pressure, is the only way to stop it.

Concerns that long-standing tension between Russia and Nato’s European members would spiral out of control have gained momentum this summer, as Western support for Ukraine has increased and Russia’s hybrid war campaign has intensified. In European capitals, drone incursions into frontline states and cases of suspected Russian sabotage — such as mysterious explosions at munitions plants that support Ukraine — are seen as signs of Putin’s aggression. European leaders accuse Moscow of probing to find Nato’s weaknesses and planning a future invasion of European territory.

But this is almost certainly a misreading of Russia’s intentions. From Putin’s perspective, Europe is a direct combatant in its conflict against Ukraine rather than an innocent bystander. After all, it is European money, and in some cases weapons and technology, that are fuelling Ukraine. In this context, Moscow views its own military activities as retaliation and even self-defence against an increasingly malign European bloc, not provocation. Moscow does not aim to test Nato’s resilience but to impose costs on Europe, just as the continent’s proxy war is imposing costs on Russia.

Russia’s military operations against Europe over recent months have a tit-for-tat nature. European countries stepped up their seizures of Russian vessels, so Putin announced plans to reciprocate by seizing European ships in Pacific waters. Britain announced its drones had been used in Ukrainian deep strikes and that it would give Ukraine access to advanced missile technology, and Russia indicated British military targets would be fair game.

To argue that Russia understands its own military actions against Europe as reactive is not to justify them, but rather to explain their motivation. The fact that Russia seeks to punish Europe for its support for Ukraine shows it is acting largely out of insecurity. Russia might still pose a challenge to Europe. Still, it is a very different and more tractable challenge than an aggressive and risk-accepting Russia ready to launch an unprovoked attack.

Most importantly, if Russia is reactive and sees Europe as a threat, it may still find reasons to avoid a full-blown conflict, providing space for an off-ramp. First, there is the question of resources. With its own military still tied up in Ukraine, the costs of a second war in Europe are likely prohibitive. Europe’s own assessment is that Russia’s military loses more people per month than it can replace through recruitment. Any sustained military action directed at Europe would further drain Russian finances and pull personnel and equipment away from what is Russia’s priority, achieving Putin’s aims inside Ukraine. Furthermore, if conflict with Europe escalates too quickly, this could force Russia to end its campaign in Ukraine before its goals are met.

Second, there is always the question of how the US would respond to any attack on Europe. Trump has raised doubts about America’s commitment to Nato’s Article 5. But if Moscow is even a little bit unsure about Washington’s intentions, it may refrain from any action that might pull the United States in — even an American military weakened by the Iran war could cause great damage to Russia.

Fundamentally, Russia does not want a war with Europe. But miscalculations will remain possible, especially if the root causes of the current escalation spiral are not addressed. If Moscow’s military action toward Europe is indeed retaliation for support to Ukraine, the best way to prevent further escalation would be to end that conflict as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, a peace deal still seems a long way off.

A more realistic alternative would be serious investment in Europe-Russia dialogue, not about Ukraine, but on de-escalation in surrounding regions. The two sides could set red lines, offer mutual reassurance, and communicate clearly about actions that would trigger kinetic responses.

Many in Europe are opposed to opening such a channel, seeing dialogue as a reward. But in the current context, with the US (Europe’s security guarantor) running low on munitions, pragmatism must come before principles. Neither Europe nor Russia can afford more war right now.

And Richard Johnson writes:

In the years between the 2016 Brexit vote and eventual departure from the European Union in 2020, a debate raged in Britain as to how the new relationship with the bloc might take shape. Effectively, the debate boiled down to the trade-offs between political sovereignty and the economic benefits of free trade. It’s therefore interesting to see the same arguments being made about America’s current trade war with Canada. The dispute over tariffs has seen Mark Carney choose between economic efficiency — conceding to Trump’s demands — or political sovereignty — rejecting Trump’s demands. But have Brexit’s Remainers changed their tune over Canada?

Many of those who voted Leave were prepared to accept a degree of increased trade friction with the EU in exchange for greater freedom over policies affecting the British public. But, for many on the Remain side of the argument, sovereignty was an illusory concept. What mattered were the economic benefits of exchange with the EU. Sovereignty was expendable. Increased economic output from lower trade barriers mattered above all else. The former Bank of England economist Danny Blanchflower memorably declared, “You can’t eat sovereignty”.

So, when it came to the Brexit negotiations, many commentators who had voted Remain took the view that Britain should do whatever necessary to retain frictionless trade with the EU. If that meant sacrificing sovereignty, it was an easy price to pay because national sovereignty, in this day and age, wasn’t real, anyway.

This attitude manifested itself in the 2018 withdrawal agreement, which would have placed Britain in a customs union with the EU. Britain would have been required to accept the EU’s external tariff policies, but would have little say on them. The British government would be prohibited from showing any preference to its domestic industries or pursuing economic policies which adversely affected European economies.

Ultimately, the Brexit deal that was agreed in 2019 only applied such conditions to Northern Ireland. Sensible commentators told us that it was essential that Britain internally divide itself in this way; otherwise, there could be violence in Ireland. Throughout the negotiations with the EU, the spectre of political violence was raised as a threat against the British government should it seek to assert the territorial integrity of its own national boundaries.

So, how curious it is now to read the commentary from Remain-inclined commentators in the wake of the trade standoff between the US and Canada. The Trump administration has told Canada that to secure special, low-tariff access to US markets, it must accept the external tariffs that apply to other countries. Canada must also limit its “Buy Canadian” practices. Trump has deployed all kinds of threats, attracting much criticism for his sabre-rattling.

Mark Carney has stood firm. He has said these impositions go too far. To agree to an external tariff set by the US would be to compromise an integral part of Canadian sovereignty. He refuses to accept American terms of the trade deal and will opt for mutual tariff barriers on goods that had hitherto been items of free or low-tariff trade.

Carney has admitted that it “will raise costs and reduce choice for Canadians”. But he has taken the view that protecting key aspects of Canada’s policy autonomy is more important than lower consumer goods prices and less red tape with the US, its largest trading partner. Polls show the Canadian public supports him.

These arguments may strike some British observers as rather interesting, given that Carney appeared to take a different view when he was governor of the Bank of England. Likewise, commentators who once suggested that “sovereignty” was some kind of Right-wing fantasy are now praising Carney for standing up for Canadian sovereignty against the US. Many such examples can be found in The Guardian. Jonathan Freedland once denounced British Leavers as suffering from a “sovereignty delusion” but has praised Carney’s “defiant patriotism” against Trump. Rafael Behr diagnosed a “syndrome: a Brexit model that makes a sacred principle of sovereignty” from which the gains were “nil, while the costs are mounting”. He has since criticised the Trump administration’s “protection racket”, adding that “the price is paid in sovereignty”. Earlier this week, the Guardian leader heaped praise on Canada for “fighting for its sovereignty while the US appears to be fighting for cheaper goods”.

This contrast suggests that some commentators have not been arguing from a point of principle but instead from a kind of motivated reasoning, depending on the ideological valence of the actors involved. The script across so much of the commentariat seems to be this: if the EU does something, it’s good and fine, while those who resist it are nasty or deluded. If the Trump administration does something, it is wicked and idiotic, but those who resist it are heroic and virtuous. The public debate deserves better arguments than these.