Abstract
The transition from neutrality to post-neutrality has been debated by constructivists and rationalists alike as a seemingly logical and unproblematic move: the end of the Cold War and the widening of the security agenda in a globalizing world have meant that a state-centric approach to security is no longer viable or desirable. The former neutrals are subsequently reconfiguring their security policies to reflect this development and contributing to European and NATO security initiatives, and at the same time contributing their own unique ‘soft security’ experiences and practices. This article aims to problematize this seemingly smooth move from neutrality to post-neutrality by examining the discourses deployed to facilitate this change. Arguing that there is a politics of post-neutrality at work, it draws attention to how identity is being reconstituted in the process of European integration and identity-formation, and how discourses on changing forms of security cooperation are facilitating the discursive dissemination of an inevitable logic that neutrality in any form will eventually be abandoned.
Introduction
In the post-Cold War world, neutrality was widely expected to face a ‘death by irrelevance’ (Cox and MacGinty, 1996: 122–3). The bipolar structure that allowed neutrality to exist had disappeared (Gärtner, 1996: 608–9) and traditional military threats no longer dominated the security agenda; the sovereign state alone could not manage the wider range of security threats that now characterized the globalized world. Neutrality belonged to the era of bloc tensions, territorial sovereignty and conflict between states – immigration, terrorism, environmental and economic insecurity, disease and intra-state war now occupied the security agenda. Indeed, since the 1990s, the label neutrality has gradually disappeared from official discourse (Goetschel, 1999: 115). Finland, Austria and Sweden (the main focus of this article) have slowly morphed into former neutrals, which remain militarily non-aligned 1 in both policy rhetoric and practice. Rhetorically, as members of the European Union (EU), these states now write their security policies in the context of European security. In terms of practice, they actively contribute to the development of the EU’s Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) and are now engaged in the EU Battle Groups. Defence restructuring has taken place since the 1990s, moving from territorial defence to greater interoperability with EU and NATO countries. Since the mid-1990s, they have joined NATO’s Partnership for Peace (PfP), the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC) and the Partnership Planning and Review Process (PARP), and have contributed to NATO’s ISAF and KFOR operations.
The move from neutrality to post-neutrality has been broadly discussed in two ways. In the academic literature, rationalist explanations point to the end of bipolarity and new security demands, making the move away from neutrality a ‘logical’ step (Cox and MacGinty, 1996; Dahl, 1997; Huldt, 1995; Missiroli, 2003). Constructivist and identity-driven approaches have largely examined the move in terms of European integration, focusing on the dynamics of interaction and norm exchange between member states, as well as the deepening of shared values and (European) identity, with the EU regarded as a civilian or normative power (Björkdahl, 2008; Brommesson, 2010; Goetschel, 1999; Rieker, 2004). Constructivist accounts in particular point to the ability of the former neutrals to influence European security integration, namely through their expertise in ‘soft security’ measures. Likewise within policy circles, official state discourses reflect a distancing and disassociation with neutrality because it no longer reflects the type of security issues and commitments the state embraces, particularly in the context of broader European and international cooperation. Within government circles and academia, it is widely expected that, in time, these states will officially and transparently abandon military non-alignment entirely.
This article aims to problematize this seemingly smooth move from neutrality to post-neutrality by arguing that there is a politics of post-neutrality at work which relies on privileging certain narratives and discourses about neutrality, identity and security over others. These discourses are circular, and overlap each other in interesting ways: as identity is reshaped towards Europe, older rationalist discourses of neutrality are being deployed by elites to justify the move away from neutrality proper, creating a complex mixture of discourses that borrow from and rely on realist premises as a normative justification to move beyond neutrality. This ‘mixture of discourses’ derives from both scholarly and official sources, but, as the article demonstrates, both sets of discourses are deeply intertwined. 2 At present, these states occupy a liminal position, negotiating what sort of actor they wish to become. The move from neutrality to post-neutrality is intricately tied up with identity but also with what sort of subject the state ought to be or the type of characteristics that state foreign policy ought to have. The discourses that shape the narrative about neutrality and identity obscure these important questions of subjectivity and require closer attention. The article starts by exploring the dominating discourses that construct neutrality. It then examines the overlapping ideas that have been central in the move towards post-neutrality, and concludes by considering how narratives of European security point to the ‘logical’ and ‘inevitable’ conditions that ultimately mean that military non-alignment must be abandoned.
Explaining the move from neutrality to post-neutrality: Discourse, narrative and subjectivity
Stories or narratives offer ways of making sense of the world and social phenomena. A realist, constructivist or other account of the international system tells us who the main characters are, how they interact, what structures their relations, what constitutes them as agents, and what matters most to them. In recent years, there has been growing attention in IR scholarship to the ‘narrative turn’ (Ciută, 2007; Roberts, 2006; Suganami, 1997, 1999, 2008). A narrative account, according to Ciută, ‘has the properties of a story: a central character, an unfolding plot, a beginning, middle and end’. It is linear and sequential (Ciută, 2007: 194; Ringmar, 1996: 72) and weaves events ‘into a whole narrative so that the significance of each event can be understood through its relation to that whole. In this way, a narrative conveys the meaning of events’ (Elliott, 2006: 3). Narratives are important because they structure our understanding and funnel our attention in a particular way, and enable a particular logic of a story to be followed.
To understand what makes a narrative or story possible, the discourses that construct it and govern how that narrative unfolds need to be examined. At a basic level, discourse is ‘a particular way of talking about and understanding the world (or an aspect of the world)’ (Phillips and Jørgensen, 2002: 1, italics in original): discourses are not neutral but inherently connected to power relations. Discourses are both productive and reproductive because they not only reflect but also constitute and produce reality (Howarth et al., 2000: 4). For instance, the end of the Cold War has generated a number of different discourses in order to explain the demise of bipolarity and its implications for the global international order as well as the actors in it. Fukuyama’s story of the triumph of liberal democracy and capitalism is hegemonic in determining the story of the ‘reality’ of the end of the Cold War and has obscured alternative discourses that draw attention to differing explanatory frameworks that tell the story in a different way (see, for instance, Herrmann and Lebow, 2004). Discourses are a specific series of representations and practices through which meanings are produced, and the identities of subjects and objects constituted. Discourses not only establish and reproduce social relations, they determine the possibility of political and ethical outcomes (Bialasiewicz et al., 2007: 406; Hansen, 2006; Howarth et al., 2000: 3–4). Thus, the power to establish which narratives dominate and are permissible is crucial because it determines the range of possible actions, responses and identities (Milliken, 1999: 229; Wæver, 2005: 36). Furthermore, the stories we tell and the way we tell them have meaning for our understandings of self. Language, as Hansen states, is political, ‘a site for the production and reproduction of particular subjectivities and identities while others are excluded’ (2006: 16).
Two different stories dominate our accounts of neutrality. The first is the rationalist, or power politics-predicated narrative, which is largely articulated by realist theory, and has dominated mainstream understanding of neutrals as small, weak, amoral and passive actors in the international system (Morgenthau, 1958, 1993; Ørvik, 1953; Thucydides, 1951). This narrative explains neutrality as an exogenous phenomenon, predominantly determined by external factors and powers, as opposed to an endogenous explanation, which posits that neutrality is internally determined by the state in question, a more obscured or subjugated understanding. This endogenous explanation features in the second narrative, linking neutrality to identity and alternative approaches to security in the late 1980s (tempered, however, with the realist narrative still), and feeds into constructivist interpretations of security and identity. The following section outlines these narratives, which can be labelled as ‘hegemonic’ and ‘subjugated’, respectively, in accordance with post-structuralist norms, and then moves on to explore how they both interact in the constitution and remaking of identity and subjectivity.
Hegemonic narratives of neutrality
Discourses are representations, capturing the qualities, meanings and interpretations of the subject. The discourses of neutrality that have dominated historical, scholarly and official accounts have generally been limited to the representation of the neutral as a weak, isolationist, irrational and amoral/immoral actor. For instance, the power politics discourse of the Athenians in the Peloponnesian War labels the neutral Melos as weak and thus irrational in its rejection of Athenian protection and preference for neutrality: ‘so blinded as to choose the worst’ (Thucydides, 1951: 331–5). At other times, the amoral/immoral discourse is amplified – in the context of the just war and in times when religious and imperial unity was demanded, neutrality was problematic (see Agius and Devine, [this issue]). Its association with weakness persists even when granted recognition in the early nineteenth century; regarded as passive objects rather than subjects of the international system, neutral states were the ‘pawns’ of stronger states (Joenniemi, 1988) always acted upon. The ‘necessity of war’ meant belligerents readily violated neutrality (Belgium and Norway as key examples) and the ability to stay neutral was dependent upon geostrategic considerations rather than rights (Morgenthau, 1958: 189–90; Karsh, 1988). Neutrals embraced the League of Nations in the inter-war years, but its failure saw a ‘resurrection’ of neutrality (Morgenthau, 1939: 476) as the Second World War erupted. Switzerland, Sweden, Ireland, Portugal and Spain were the only surviving neutrals by the end of the war, but were criticized as hypocritical, aiding the stronger belligerent (thereby violating neutrality) and profiting from war (Ørvik, 1953). During this period, neutrality gains a far greater amoral signification. Their ‘indifference to the fate of others’, in the words of John Foster Dulles, was ‘immoral’ (Dulles, 1956: 549; Raymond, 1997: 124) and, particularly with respect to the Holocaust, 3 neutrals were ‘guilty of having encouraged the divorce of ethics from politics’ (Sobel, 1998–9: 207).
For realists, neutrality occupied a dual category: on the one hand, it was an acceptable form of statecraft because sovereign states were ‘like units’ and, according to Morgenthau, would respond to war ‘according to their interests … to intervene or to remain neutral’ (1958: 198). They also served a ‘balancing function’ during the Cold War, acting as mediators and bridge-builders (Kruzel and Haltzel, 1989; Morgenthau, 1993: 197; Sundelius, 1987). Yet realists defined sovereignty narrowly. The logic of its protection was through force, not abstention from conflict, so neutrality was also a subversive use of sovereignty. 4 For Schmitt, neutrality, although permissible, constituted a negation of the friend/enemy distinction crucial to his concept of the political, and as such the death of politics (1996: 34–5). Neutrality weakened the ‘norms which produce the distribution of friends and enemies found in a balance of power system’, thereby endangering ‘the underlying rationality of international order’ (Joenniemi, 1993: 295). The narrative of the Cold War left little space for ‘liminality, ambiguity and scepticism’ (Folch-Serra, 2002: 178).
The dominant stories of neutrality follow this line to varying degrees, united by descriptions of weak and small states preferring abstention and isolationism. Austrian neutrality was seen as exogenous in origin, the ‘political price’ of sovereignty in the post-war era: Austria was widely seen as a neutralized state because neutrality was a condition of its independence (Hinteregger, 1989: 274; Liebhart, 2001; Neuhold, 1994: 27; see also Beyer and Hofmann, [this issue]), as was Finland because its neutrality originated with the 1948 Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance (TFCMA) with its more powerful neighbour, the USSR. The Treaty, designed to prevent an attack on the USSR via Finnish territory, remained an enduring feature of Finnish post-war foreign and defence policy, having been renewed three times (in 1955, 1970 and 1983) before its expiry in 1992. The label of ‘Finlandisation’ 5 – which denoted a submissive relationship to the USSR – dominated perceptions of Finland’s foreign and security policy (Mouritzen, 1988). Swedish neutrality has existed since 1814, yet dominant interpretations locate it as a geostrategic, realpolitik decision after its decline as a regional power (Andrén, 1989; Åström, 1987, 1989; Huldt, 1995: 139). These exogenous explanations for neutrality neglect a specifically endogenous account, which the following section details.
Subjugated discourses of neutrality: Bringing to light obscured interpretations
The above is but one discourse of neutrality, one possible way of thinking about neutral states in the international system. A subjugated narrative of neutrality, subsumed by the dominance of realism, proposed a different conceptualization. This focused on the specifically national character of neutrality, the role of neutrals in the international system, and the possibilities of viewing the normative or peace potential of neutrality (Joenniemi, 1989). For centuries, neutrality was seen as the alternative to military alliances, a safety belt if collective security failed (Goetschel, 1999: 115). During the Cold War, the ‘good offices’ of the neutrals (such as their peacekeeping activities, mediation and bridge-building between the superpowers) elevated them beyond the label of ‘small and weak’ states, showing they could exert a different type of power and influence on the international stage. Binter has claimed that the peace potential of neutrality extended to contributions to regional stability, limiting the spread of conflict (‘zones of peace’), broke up the rigid bloc structure of the Cold War, strengthened the mechanisms of international institutions in terms of peaceful initiatives, and provided an alternative form of defence. Furthermore, neutrals added ‘moral weight’; their solidarity formed a specific ethic of international relations that constituted a ‘positive peace’ (1985: 390–6; cf. Goetschel, [this issue]; Joenniemi, 1989). As Kruzel observed, where realists would see neutrality as a poor security choice, the idealism of the neutrals in elevating the status of neutrality at the international level was ‘the most realistic policy they could adopt’ (1989: 310). The alternative reading of neutrality indicated that, by rejecting violence and promoting different forms of security in the international system, neutral states subverted the idea of the anarchic international system dictating that states use force to obtain security (Agius, 2006: 39).
In realist accounts, neutrality was determined by exogenous and material forces – imposed by great powers, or dictated by geography or small power status. However, this is not how neutral states saw neutrality – rather than passivity, neutral states saw themselves as active internationalists, reflected in a different set of scholarly and official discourses. Austria’s post-war leaders regarded neutrality as part of the ‘Austrian way’ which enveloped a cosmopolitan approach to the international system, particularly during the Kreisky era, when Austria played an active role in the Middle East, the UN, OSCE and the Third World (Hinteregger, 1989; Liebhart, 2001: 20–2; Luif, 2001). Austria’s rejection of power politics was so entrenched that Gustenau notes that, during the Second Republic, Austria lacked a statement on national interest (2002: 104). Similarly, Finnish neutrality developed into an active variety, with the small state carving a profile for peaceful initiatives (notably in the CSCE and proposals for a Nordic Nuclear Free Zone). 6 For Sweden, the initial understanding of neutrality as a realpolitik decision obscured the original desire to develop better relations with its old enemy Russia and to concentrate on domestic state-building (Sundelius, 1987: 5, 1990; Elgström, 2000; Malmborg, 2001a). Sweden’s post-war ‘credible neutrality doctrine’, composed of independent defence, public support for neutrality and no entanglements in military alliances (Goldmann, 1991: 123), rejected isolationism in favour of active internationalism. As I explained in more detail elsewhere (2006), neutrality became deeply embedded in Swedish identity. Adopted as part of Social Democratic ideology and its vision of the folkhem (‘People’s Home’), neutrality would be the platform from which Sweden exported its core domestic values, such as solidarity and equality. Support for the Third World, overseas development assistance, disarmament, mediation and peacekeeping, and criticism of the superpowers 7 earned Sweden the reputation (positively or otherwise) as the ‘moral conscience’ of the world (see also Bergman, 2007; Bjereld, 1995a; Dahl, 2002: 142 Eliasson, 1989; Mörth and Sundelius, 1995; Palme, 1972).
Constructing neutrality as identity
These perspectives of neutrality broke away from the rationalist and (im)moralist discourse of the neutral state, casting the neutral as a different type of actor in the international system, concerned with normative values as much as material interests, and neutrality as inherently connected to identity. It cohered with the rise of constructivist thought emerging in IR at this time, which looked to the social construction of reality. Constructivism’s ontological focus on the importance of ideational as well as material structures, the centrality of identity and the mutual constitution of agents and structures (Hopf, 1998: 172–4; Ruggie, 1998; Wendt, 1999) was best typified by Wendt’s oft-quoted phrase: ‘anarchy is what states make of it’. This maxim pointed to the socially constructed nature of international relations that the identity of agents is formed through interaction, and that reality was not simply ‘given’ but constituted by the norms and beliefs held by agents (1992). In this configuration, the focus on neutrality would instead consider the relationship between neutrality and identity. Agents cannot act without an identity; thus, if neutrality was the profile of the foreign and security stance of an agent, then neutrality must be related to how that state regards itself and its interests. In this vein, Bukovansky reconsidered US neutrality in terms of republicanism rather than isolationism (1997), and Belgian and British neutrality was treated by Steele as a question of ontological security and understandings of Self, related to honour and morality, respectively (2008). An alternative reading of neutrality meant moving beyond the notion of the passive actor to active internationalism inspired by domestic norms and values – neutrality is ‘what states make of it’, and thus becomes embedded in ideas of self and subjectivity (Agius, 2006).
The social construction of identity and interests was also a theme taken up by a variety of scholars in differing ways in the context of EU membership. Here, the focus turned to norm exchange and social learning, pointing to the dynamism of European integration as impacting on and in turn being influenced by applicant states. In this respect, most analyses pointed to how norm advocacy played a role in the transfer of national security practices to the EU level (Björkdahl, 2008; Brommesson, 2010; Forsberg and Vaahtoranta, 2001; Goetschel, 1999; Jakobsen, 2009; Rieker, 2004; Smith, 2000) as well as its limits (Herolf, 1999; Ojanen, 2000, 2002; Wivel, 2005). Others have examined the extent of neutrality compatibility with European security initiatives (Ojanen et al., 2000; Jacoby and Jones, 2008; Rickli, 2008) or how neutrality has been an obstacle to deeper European security integration (Anderson and Seitz, 2006: 27; Bjereld, 1995b; Dahl, 1997; Græger et al., 2002a: 25; Missiroli, 2003; Ojanen, 2008).
Approaches which point to the power of identity and norms are useful in demonstrating the transition from neutrality to post-neutrality, but they often do not tell us about the inherently political battles that form part of this process. The shift in neutrality is about identity but conventional constructivism pays less attention to power relations in the social construction of reality (Finnemore and Sikkink, 2001: 398), overlooks the politics of identity constitution below the level of the state in assuming that the domestic context is consistent (Diez, 2001: 9; Larsen, 2004; McSweeney, 1999: 127 on neutrality, see in particular Devine, 2008b), and therefore neglects to pursue what sort of identity this shift may entail and how that takes place. Critical constructivism, inspired by post-structuralist approaches, incorporates key aspects of discourse presented earlier and points to a more complex understanding of identity, regarding it as inherently unstable and dependent upon power and representation. Discursive practices have the ability to constitute the ontological basis of reality and subjects (Ruggie, 1998: 881) and establish the boundaries of self and possible action. Critical constructivism pays more attention to language and discourse, pointing to its role in constituting and constructing social reality, thus producing the world (Fierke, 2001, 2002; Hopf, 1998; Onuf, 2002).
Laclau and Mouffe’s notion of discourse provides a useful prism through which to understand the processes and struggles that inherently construct identity and how neutrality is situated within that discursive structure. In their formulation of discourse theory, all forms of social practice occur within the setting of historically specific discourses. Discourses are relational systems of signification. They are not fixed or singular, but multiple and contingent, overlapping with each other and never complete (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985; Milliken, 1999: 230; Torfing, 2005: 19). At an abstract level, meaning is constructed in terms of difference or equivalence, but discourse itself is never fixed or total. Empty signifiers work as nodal points to partially fix meaning of concepts, with the corollary that meaning is always open to contestation (Howarth and Torfing, 2005: 14). The narratives of neutrality outlined above are constituted by differing discourses. In the realist narrative, some of the discursive nodal points partially fix the meaning of neutrality as ‘weakness’, ‘immoral’, ‘isolationism’ and ‘irrationality’. In the alternate narrative, ‘non-violence’, ‘peace’, ‘positive security’ and ‘domestic values’ represent the key nodal points. In the debates about neutrality and post-neutrality, these two narratives compete: as discourse is constructed by struggle, there is an attempt to fix meaning to form a hegemonic discourse (Howarth and Torfing, 2005; Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: 113–14). In the current post-neutrality discursive context, specific nodal points of the realist narrative (immorality, isolationism, irrationality) dominate the discursive field, rendering the alternate nodal points temporal or limited (soft security, for instance, is no longer enough for European security needs, as developed later in the article). With the end of the Cold War serving as a nodal point, the end of bipolarity was widely seen to have removed the basis or rationale for the existence of neutrality – there was now nothing to be neutral between and liberal democracy had won.
As interdependence and cooperation increasingly characterized global(ized) international relations, state-centric security formulations gave way to security threats that went beyond the sovereign state. It was not simply neutral states that were affected. NATO transformed from a Cold War defence organization to a community of ‘shared values’ (Adler, 2008; Schimmelfennig, 1998) and the predominantly economic European Community (EC) was reshaped into a political entity when it became the EU. The uniting feature of this shift is that broadly accepted norms and values, such as democracy, the rule of law, respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms became the basis upon which the identity and practices of the EU and NATO revolved. The emphasis on shared identity also worked to embed these values and recast both communities as something more than economic or defence organizations. As the EU proposed to develop its CFSP, it did so not simply for pragmatic reasons but in order to fulfil a long-standing goal of political union and closer European identity. Furthermore, these stated values and identities were ones with which neutral states could identify.
In the past, membership of the EC would have contradicted neutrality because of plans to develop a common defence policy, yet the transformation of both organizations prompted neutral states to reassess their relationship with them. Crucial to this reassessment was the idea of the EU as a peace project, thus something compatible with the security experiences of neutrals, which hoped to extend their security practices in the post-Cold War setting. The hope that neutrality might emerge as a possible security option was briefly entertained in view of the initial uncertainties characterizing the international system. But as the central and eastern European states emerging from the Soviet bloc rushed to join NATO, expectations of a ‘renaissance’ of neutrality proved short-lived (Bebler, 1992; Binter, 1992; Bitzinger, 1991). The past associations of isolation outweighed any possible virtues they could offer in the new setting, such as their ‘good offices’, which were appearing to be increasingly less unique when states such as Canada, Denmark and Norway – who were not neutral – also fulfilled these roles on the international stage (Huldt, 2002: 49; McSweeney, 1988: 209).
Austria signalled its intention to keep neutrality – described by the then foreign minister as an ‘asset’ – when it applied for EC membership in 1989 (Mock, 1990: 37). The Commission, however, foresaw legal barriers to Austria’s full participation in the CFSP because of its permanent neutrality and recommended that Austria redefine its neutrality status or seek a derogation, the latter being an unlikely option (Commission of the European Communities, 1991). 8 Subsequently, Austria’s parliament supported engagement in European security in 1992, and it was announced that Austria would become an observer in the WEU (Lahodynsky, 1992: 24). During the accession negotiations, neutral state elites played a cautious game, simultaneously making commitments to adhere to the acquis and to fully participate in and not impede the CFSP (Official Journal of the European Union, 1994; Ojanen, 2002: 155) while reassuring their respective publics that neutrality remained an important part of security policy (for Austria, see Lantis and Queen, 1998: 166; for Finland, see Paasio, 1990: 58 and Holkeri, 1990: 59, respectively; for Sweden, see Carlsson, 1990: 1; see also Devine, [this issue]). Exogenous change alone was not enough to shift neutrality, which was still widely supported by the public. In order to disembed neutrality, certain discourses and narratives animated the domestic debate, as the next section explores.
The return to Europe and normalization: Reformulating neutrality
EU membership in the 1990s meant more than just being in an economic club; in tandem with political union, the idea of a European identity was an important nodal point in the restructuring of identities and foreign policies. For Austria and Finland – whose neutrality has always been tied up with associations of neutralization or exogenous imposition (see Beyer and Hofmann, this issue) – the idea of a ‘return to Europe’ was particularly strong. Pro-EU supporters reinforced the idea that these states were always European, and that their distance from Europe due to Cold War neutrality was an historical anomaly. For example, Austria’s legacy of empire was used to claim that ‘… our history and self-definition has always been a supranational one … a genetic predisposition’ (Schüssel, 1998). Neutrality was ‘de-mythologized’ by critiquing the relationship between neutrality and independence: far from giving Austria its post-war sovereignty, neutrality was an artificial condition imposed by outside powers, ‘the price of independence’ and a barrier to the ‘true’ identity of the nation (de Cillia et al., 1999: 161). The expiration of the TFCMA in 1992 meant Finland could be an active player in world affairs and cease ‘watching developments from a position restrained by the straitjacket of our Cold War neutrality’ (Valtasaari, 1999).
In Sweden, the ‘return to Europe’ discourse was less potent. The European project was broadly regarded as removed from Social Democratic norms, or, as Åström put it, the EU was conservative, capitalist, colonial and catholic (1989: 33). However, when Carl Bildt’s non-socialist coalition won office in 1991, breaking decades of Social Democratic hegemony, he actively pursued a European identity for Sweden (Miles, 1997: 187–9). While maintaining the core of military non-alignment, Bildt argued that neutrality was no longer an apt description of Swedish security policy in the context of the EU; instead Sweden would have the option to be neutral in the event of a war in its vicinity; for example, if the Baltic states were threatened, Sweden could not remain neutral (Malmborg, 2001b: 41–2; Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 1993).
Bildt divested neutrality of the Social Democrats’ idea of Sweden as a moral actor in international affairs and equated neutrality with isolationism. Under Bildt, Sweden distanced itself from the neutral and non-aligned group in the UN and aligned its UN voting patterns with the EU, at the expense of solidarity with developing states (Bjereld, 1995b). For many non-socialists, active internationalism was all about making a bad state feel good about itself (Dahl, 2002: 141–2); there were no ‘mystical qualities’ to Swedish neutrality, it was simply about a small state trying to avoid war or dominance by a great power (Huldt, 2002: 46). Furthermore, think tanks such as Timbro recast active internationalism through overseas development assistance as ideological, supporting left-wing dictators (Ahlmark, 1995) and criticism of the USA as strategic in terms of enhancing Swedish–Soviet relations (Scott, 2009). The ideas of solidarity and consensus previously associated with neutrality gave way to the discourse of ‘neutrality as taboo’ and a form of censorship: ‘A good Swede was a neutral Swede, never questioning the military or political wisdom behind that doctrine’ (Dahl, 1998: 33, 2002: 139; Gilmour, 2010; Huldt, 2002: 46; Sundelius, 1990). A similar discourse was visible in Finland, where neutrality was regarded as a taboo subject because criticism would have harmed relations with Russia and Finnish interests (Ries, 2002: 76–7).
Disengagement with neutrality was propelled further by the discourse of the myth of neutrality: the idea that the state was never really neutral. This had always been present in historical debates, but in the post-Cold War era it worked to justify why neutrality should be abandoned – if the state was never really neutral, then neutrality had a false relationship to the identity of the nation-state. In 1991, the writer and journalist, Maria-Pia Boëthius, in her book Heder och samvete (‘Honour and Conscience’), morally critiqued the ‘small-state realism’ line that sustained Sweden’s wartime neutrality narrative (bending neutrality to ensure survival). Eager to bring its wartime actions out into the open, government-funded research and public discussion flourished in the 1990s (Gilmour, 2010: 270–80; Ruth, 2009). Revelations that Sweden had arranged to receive assistance from NATO in the event of an attack further damaged neutrality (SOU, 1994; Tunander, 1999). Although Boëthius’ book was not well received in official circles and the government report revealed limited preparations to receive assistance in its final assessments, in public discourse the debate about the erosion of the ‘credible neutrality doctrine’ was underway. Similarly, in the early 1990s, the Austrian President Thomas Klestil argued that Austria was no longer strictly neutral because it permitted Allied aircraft to use Austrian airspace during the Gulf War (Lahodynsky, 1992: 24) and Irish neutrality was questioned over assistance to and claims of protection by the British, a point deployed vigorously by those wishing to argue that Irish neutrality no longer exists (Devine, 2006). Attacking claims to neutrality/questioning its ‘reality’ or ‘truth’ not only unsettled neutrality as a policy and historical accounts of self, but freed from its myth, neutral states could be a more valid and true version of themselves. Attachment to neutrality began to be debated not as a source of distinction but rather as an irrationality. For elites, the public’s so-called ‘emotional’ attachment to neutrality (Devine, 2006: 115–29, 2008a, b) was a barrier to greater involvement in important institutional decision-making circles, reinforcing the idea that neutrality was equated with isolationism, which held even greater resonance in an age where interdependence was central. The ability of these states to influence policy and practice, particularly with regard to NATO and EU security and defence, was seen to be limited (Dahl, 2002: 149; Järvenpää, 2002).
Normative power Europe, soft power and solidarity
Expectations that neutral states would either hamper the CFSP or be sidelined in it proved short-lived. Austria made constitutional-level changes to permit full participation in the CFSP without the constraints of the Neutrality Act (Luif, 2001: 143–5) and the 1995 Finnish government White Paper on security policy declared neutrality incompatible with EU membership (Ries, 2002: 72). When Carlsson returned the Social Democrats to power in 1994, there was no reversal of Bildt’s altered security formula, and Sweden announced its acceptance of the CFSP, while defending the right to remain militarily non-aligned (Hjelm-Wallén, 1996). Finland and Sweden succeeded in promoting the Petersberg Tasks as the defining scope of the CFSP in a joint Memorandum (Hjelm-Wallén and Halonen, 1996), and its inclusion in the Amsterdam Treaty characterized the EU as a ‘soft power’. With its emphasis on crisis management, and humanitarian and peacekeeping missions, the Petersberg Tasks also steered European security cooperation away from a more militarized interpretation (Bretherton and Vogler, 2006: 222; Smith, 2005: 69). This ‘norm advocacy’ can also be seen in Sweden’s promotion of conflict prevention at the Gothenburg European Council in 2001, and its ability to make it an integral part of the ESDP when the EU adopted the Programme for the Prevention of Violent Conflict (Björkdahl, 2008; Rieker, 2004). The contribution of soft security to the EU by the former neutrals fits neatly into constructivist analyses of norm promotion and social learning. It is argued that, through interaction, the former neutrals have been successful at exporting their norms and practices to the European level. 9 It also demonstrated that small states could punch above their weight and influence the integration process according to their ‘niche’ areas of expertise (Jakobsen, 2009: 86–97; Rickli, 2008: 320–1). Despite concerns about ‘free-riding’ and adapting to or hindering EU security (Græger et al., 2002b; Missiroli, 2003: 12–16; Ojanen, 2000), they promoted a different profile for the EU as a security actor.
This also cohered well with the developing discourse on the EU’s external profile that characterized the EU as a ‘normative power’: a unique hybrid, progressive and cosmopolitan counterweight to American preponderance (Habermas and Derrida, 2003: 293; Manners, 2002: 242–52). ‘Good citizen Europe’ was guided by core norms and values such as peace, liberty, democracy, rule of law and respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms (Dunne, 2008: 13–15). Stemming from Duchêne’s civilian power Europe concept, which focused on diplomatic, economic and political influence, NPE has dominated the debate on Europe’s global role (Orbie, 2006; Rogers, 2009: 832). For the former neutrals, the notion of the EU as a normative power or ‘peace project’ (SOU, 1997: 11) allowed them to see the EU as a continuation of their own ‘good offices’ (Plassnik, 2005), making deeper security cooperation compatible and commensurate with established norms. Seeing the EU as this type of actor revises what Brommesson calls the ‘normative point of departure’, relocating norms and interests from the nation-state to Europe, in turn fostering loyalty to Europe and defence of its values over others (2010: 228). In official policy discourse, solidarity with the EU has become the central mantra, a crucial nodal point which reorients foreign and security policy, extending the range of actions and commitments available. In 2001, Sweden signalled that it needed a different description of its security policy and in 2002 announced a new security formula which acknowledged that neutrality had ‘served us well’ but ‘acting concertedly and in cooperation’ with others best serves security and peace (Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 2002). Similarly, Austria’s Foreign Minister Benita Ferrero-Waldner publicly stated that in EU foreign policy there is ‘no neutrality, only solidarity’ (2001) and the 2001 security and defence doctrine declared that Austria’s status is closer to being non-allied rather than neutral. In the same month, Solana stated that neutrality was a ‘concept of the past’ and a state wishing to be neutral could not expect solidarity from the EU (EU Observer, 2001a, b).
This took on greater significance in the post-9/11 world. Bush’s narrative framing of the ‘war on terror’ as a fight for freedom and democracy meant ‘there can be no neutrality’ – all nations would be ‘held accountable for inactivity’ (CNN, 2001). Traditional neutrality had no ground in this ‘war’ because it involved non-state actors rather than states. There was no declaration of political neutrality; solidarity with the USA was declared in the immediate aftermath of the attacks by all EU member states, although a preference for multilateralism could be detected among the former neutrals, which expressed concern for the lack of UN Security Council mandate for military action in Iraq. 10 The Declaration on Combating Terrorism, adopted by the European Council in 2004 after the Madrid bombings, and the declaration of solidarity it contained, set out to mobilize ‘all instruments’, including military, to prevent terrorist attacks within the territories of the EU member states (European Council, 2004). Former neutrals have actively contributed to counter-terrorism initiatives (Forsberg, 2002; Järvenpää, 2002: 38), but on the whole have not considered terrorism to be a major threat to their national security. 11 For Sweden, solidarity with the EU has meant that it will not remain passive in the event of an attack on an EU or Nordic state, and expects assistance if similarly affected (Bildt, 2010: 3). Finland has indicated that solidarity within the EU ‘also reflects on military activities and the readiness to defend other member states by all means available’ (Finnish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 2009: 72).
EU hard power and the debate on NATO membership
As Larsen observed, up until the late 1990s, the dominant discourse in the EU was that of a civilian power Europe, but this also coexisted with an equally long-standing position that in order for the EU to have credibility as a global actor, some military capacity was necessary. This was particularly expressed in the Anglo-French declaration at St Malo in 1998 which proposed a defence role for the EU and the establishment of a Rapid Reaction Force to be in place by 2003 as part of the ESDP. During the Cologne Summit in 1999, military capabilities were expressly called for (Larsen, 2004: 71–2; see also European Council, 1999). The creation of the EU Battle Groups was not to be limited to peacekeeping and, according to former NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer (2005–2009), combat may be required: ‘we shouldn’t think the EU is for soft power and NATO for tough power’ (EU Observer, 2005). This concurs with the EU’s own understanding of the Battle Groups, which, in addition to military cooperation, are intended to ‘reinforce the EU’s military identity in a concrete manner’ (European Union, 2009). For Solana, civilian power is of the past, and the EU should be ‘bolder’ about power projection and take risks in ESDP (2009: 4). Others, such as Nicole Gnesotto and the Director-General for EU External and Politico-Military Affairs, Robert Cooper, argue that EU strategy needs to go beyond soft power and ‘get real’ (Rogers, 2009: 845–9). If the EU is to reach its potential, then it needs ‘muscle’, and has to include hard security in order to be a credible force internationally and avoid criticisms of impotence and marginalization. 12
Calls to ‘harden’ Europe’s soft security profile (Missiroli, 2003; Menon, 2009) and talk of the development of a specific European strategic culture or concept (Biscop, 2002; Meyer, 2005) indicate that ESDP will develop beyond its civilian profile. According to Bailes, this ‘toughening up’ of the EU’s strategic identity might be so important that it ‘may be the condition for its surviving as a united community at all’ (2006: 20). With the Lisbon Treaty (2009), the Petersberg Tasks have been expanded to include post-conflict stabilization, joint disarmament operations and military advice and assistance tasks. The direction of CSDP in new decision-making provisions, such as permanent structured cooperation, and the mutual defence clause (see Devine, [this issue]), indicates limits to soft power (Giegerich and Wallace, 2004). This was recognized by Bildt (now Foreign Minister), who argued that in order for the EU to become a ‘true power for peace’ it must have the instruments to match those ambitions, military in addition to economic and diplomatic tools (2008). Finland has revised its peacekeeping legislation to expand to ‘military crisis management’ – operations that do not necessarily require a mandate from the UN or the OSCE. Use of force is also permissible to achieve the goals of the mission, rather limited to self-defence (Vesa, 2007: 530–3). Sweden deployed special operation (military forces) to Operation Artemis in the DRC in 2003 (Rickli, 2008: 320). For Ojanen, European security policy is a ‘race to adapt’; otherwise states risk exclusion (2002: 161).
NATO membership
Adaptation and the desire for inclusion and influence is also a feature of debates on NATO membership. Since the 1990s, the flexible interpretation of neutrality has meant the former neutrals have been increasingly intertwined in NATO institutions and initiatives, such as joint exercises and training with NATO/PfP partners and contributions to NATO operations. National defences have also been restructured towards greater interoperability with NATO forces and command structures (Bailes et al., 2006; Järvenpää, 2002; Möller and Bjereld, 2010: 375). Subsequently, this level of engagement fuels debate about full NATO membership – given the degree of involvement, full membership seems rational and inevitable, a natural progression: the logic being that despite such integration, these states are still excluded from decision-making because they are not yet full members (Agius, 2006: 192; Järvenpää, 2002).
The debate is important because it contains a variety of different features, presenting a particular narrative about NATO and its relationship to national identity and security. NATO, now a community of values, no longer occupies a problematic category as it did when these states were neutral during the Cold War. The irrationality of non-membership also speaks to the problem of the former neutrals as still incomplete subjects – their potential NATO role hampered by their militarily non-aligned status. As such, a ‘discourse coalition’ 13 of pro-NATO supporters regularly communicates the problems of exclusion, directing the narrative towards a positive assessment of NATO, naturalizing it and preparing a sceptical public for membership. Newby and Titley observe that despite claims by pro-NATO interests such as the military, diplomatic services and the media of a ‘lively’ debate on NATO membership in Finland, this is actually not the case; the issue is kept ‘simmering’ with small, positive stories (on an almost weekly basis in Helsingin Sanomat), in an attempt to acclimatize the public to a more positive attitude, or a ‘drift’ to NATO. 14 Academically, Finland is still seen as a problematic, insular actor still engrossed in Cold War thinking (2003: 484–5). Former President Martti Ahtisaari has argued that joining NATO would resolve the ongoing question of Finnish geopolitical identity (Browning, 2008: 12) and that the resurgence of ‘traditional conflicts’ such as Russia’s incursions in Georgia means there are geostrategic reasons for membership (EU Observer, 2008). Exploration of ‘possible NATO membership’ has highlighted existing cooperation and pointed to the benefit of increased security (Finnish Ministry of Defence, 2004; Finnish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 2007, 2009: 80–1). The gradual socializing of NATO into everyday discourse mirrors efforts in the former Soviet states, where NATO was normalized and made ‘banal’ (Kuus, 2007: 270). This socialization and ‘teaching’ is a subtle form of power, shaping subjects in specific ways (Gheciu 2005: 979–88) and debates about NATO membership are not simply about security; they form an essential strand in the discourse about European integration and identity and have implications for what sort of identity is pursued.
What sort of subject? Post-neutrals and the character of European security
Many believe that the EU should bring its multidimensional approach and values to bear on conflict, and strengthening military capabilities is not regarded as problematic (McSweeney, 2002: 151; Manners, 2006b: 408). For McSweeney, military competency for the EU is not the same as militarization of the state, where military values dominate culture, politics and society (2002: 149). Stavridis (in Orbie, 2006: 125) sees no contradiction between militarization and NPE and Mitzen argues from an ontological security perspective that greater military capacity may not compromise the EU’s identity as a civilian and civilizing power, because European collective identity has its basis in the more established idea of civilian power Europe where diplomacy, multilateralism and the promotion of values rather than power projection constitute its approach to the external realm (2006: 270–1).
In McSweeney’s view, the important question is the ‘future character, not the fact’, of European common defence (2002: 144–8). The promises of normative power Europe, however, may already be fading. Manners observes the militarization of ESDP and prioritizing of military over civilian capabilities in ‘robust’ interventions such as Operation Artemis (2002: 242, 2006a: 183–92, 2006b: 408; Wagner, 2006). The EU and its member states (including Ireland and Sweden) have engaged in or are complicit with counter-terrorist activities such as extraordinary rendition and torture, which Manners regards as the ‘first causalities of normative power Europe’ (2006b: 411; cf. Newby and Titley, 2003). Scholars point to inconsistencies and problems in the stated normative goals of EU external policy with regard to China and Russia (Manners, 2006b, 2008), the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (Biscop, 2002; see in particular the Special Issue of Democratization, 2009) and security reform and stability in the Balkans (Merlingen, 2007). Storey, in response to McSweeney, argues that EU security and defence cooperation is developing specifically to complement or work with NATO structures, so there is no certainty that the EU would represent a different or sui generis type of international security actor. The EU also has commercial interests, which could be defended militarily in future under the guise of ‘peacekeeping’ or ‘humanitarian intervention’. European ‘values’ may be inflated (2002: 286–7) or serve as a ‘normative cloak’ (Youngs, 2004) to legitimize and enable an assertive security and defence policy (Aggestam, 2008: 4–7).
More pertinently, a lack of ‘self-reflexivity’ (Diez, 2005: 624) and the power to decide what constitutes ‘normality’ (Merlingen, 2007: 439) represents the real potential problem. Claims to being a ‘civilian’ or normative power can close down critical analysis of EU foreign policy activities (Smith, 2005: 63). Collective identity does ‘make things easier’, in Kantner’s words, but there can be a danger in that alternative positions and approaches may be cut off; a ‘normative corridor’ that permits internal conflict is also important and common policies can be agreed without speaking with ‘one voice’ (2006: 504–6, 517). These concerns are importantly valid because the former neutrals have invested much of their identity in Europe. Normative international goals are enacted through the EU and in solidarity with the EU. It is a crucial nexus through which these states negotiate the sort of actor they are in the process of becoming.
Concluding post-neutrality?
This article has focused on the contested nature of post-neutrality and explored the discourses and stories that have been crucial for its realization. However, neutrality is not simply a foreign and security policy option – it contains deeper resonance and meaning that have implications for how states understand themselves as actors in the international system and what their identity is about. The move from neutrality to post-neutrality was not simply a shift in response to external security changes but intricately enmeshed in ideas of self and subjectivity – what sort of subject the state ought to be. As member states of the EU, post-neutrals adapt and exchange norms and practices, reconfiguring identity as they do so. Conventional constructivist approaches, while particularly useful at delineating this process, take for granted many of the ‘nodal points’ on which these understandings about security and identity rest. These are not unimportant, because they raise vital questions about the sort of actors and identities being constituted in this process, and this is never in itself neutral. In this regard, the nodal points on which European security and identity rest (captured in Manners’ description of what makes the EU a ‘normative power’, such as ‘liberty’, ‘democracy’ and so on) 15 are at times not readily interchangeable with established meanings that perhaps have deeper resonance in the domestic context. This is not to say that domestic understandings of self are essentially fixed and unchanging, but they are embedded in a longer process of sedimentation, incorporating language, history, social relations, and so on. Europe’s ‘empty signifiers’ can be filled with a variety of different meanings, but these signifiers tend to be vague. In contrast, the nodal points that construct neutrality, particularly in the alternative narrative, perhaps provide a more complex and historically specific set of meanings.
In many respects, the debate about military non-alignment/neutrality is already written. It is effectively absent from serious academic debate and, when discussed, done so with the expectation that neutrality is simply an inconvenient obstacle on the path to real European integration, which is what everyone must want and support. The discourses deployed in the debates on neutrality are important not simply because they represent a particular ‘reality’; they actively work to reconfigure identity and interests. When the debate and discourse is structured in this way, it is easy to concur that neutrality – whatever form it takes – will inevitably be abandoned. Deeper engagement and activism in European security reconfigures the nature of military non-alignment. Many who suggest that the move away from neutrality signals a positive development need to consider what replaces this form of security cooperation. This is not to say that being neutral has a specific validity or place in international security; being neutral has and will continue to raise important questions that have to do with morality, ethics and practice. However, this does not mean that European security cooperation is also entirely normative and innocent in this respect either. Antje Wiener articulated this problem clearly by arguing that one of the assumptions inherent in the idea of normative power Europe is that of commonality and convergence – a ‘thin cosmopolitanism’ – when it is diversity that makes the EU unique. Norms are interpreted in different ways, as seen in disagreements over Iraq and the UN Charter, and diversity can actually be an asset when responding to threats such as terrorism (2008: 196–210). This question is a broader one, related to ideas of violence and discourses of danger in the international system: the vital point, however, remains, that curtailing ideas about peace and security may be the deeper problem in this debate.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
Thanks is extended to the anonymous reviewers of the journal, and Karen Devine, Paul Copeland and Helen Dexter, for their comments on this article and Peter Lawler for those on earlier versions. Any inaccuracies remain my responsibility.
