by Charles Grant

On a recent visit to Prague, people kept asking me how the Czech Republic was doing as EU member-state, and whether it was a successful member. With the Czechs preparing to take over the rotating presidency of the EU next January, a lot of people outside the Czech Republic will start to ask that question, too.

In my view, the Czechs are neither at the top nor the bottom of the ‘class of 2004’, that is the group of countries that joined the EU almost four years ago. They have not been curmudgeonly and difficult, as have, say, the Poles, threatening to veto the Lisbon treaty because of its voting rules, or the Greek Cypriots, who have prevented the EU ending the isolation of Northern Cyprus because of their conflict with Turkey. But the Czech Republic has not become an easy-going, middle-of-the-road member like Slovenia.

The Czechs have not been afraid to take strong positions on a number of issues. On the positive side (as far as the CER is concerned), the Czechs are ardent free-traders, always voting against anti-dumping duties as a matter of principle. The government believes that EU foreign policy should take account of human rights, and vigorously seeks to promote them in countries like Belarus, Burma, Cuba and Iran. The economy has performed quite well (certainly compared with Hungary), growing by about 6 per cent a year. It meets most of the ‘Maastricht criteria’ that aspiring euro members should comply with.

But the Czechs have put aside their plans to join the euro. This is because President Vaclav Klaus, a Thatcherite eurosceptic, is deeply hostile to monetary union. Although an over-valued crown is hurting Czech exporters such as Skoda, and two thirds of the country’s trade is with the eurozone, the Czechs are unlikely to join the euro so long as Klaus is in office (he has just begun a second five-year term).

On other issues, too, Klaus often takes idiosyncratic positions that put Prague at odds with other EU capitals. He is the only EU leader to argue that climate change is not a problem, and his interventions have ensured that Prime Minister Topolanek’s government is hesitating over supporting some of the European Commission’s recent proposals on climate change.

Part of Klaus’s strange political genius is that he manages to be pro-US, and particularly pro-Bush, while enjoying a warm relationship with Vladimir Putin. His Atlanticism spurs him to welcome American radars onto Czech soil, as part of the US’s controversial (and unpopular among Czechs) missile defence system. Yet Klaus also defends Putin from his western critics, praises his achievements in Russia, and speaks proudly of the medal that the Russian president recently bestowed upon him. Perhaps it is not so strange for the leader of a small and rather weak country – that was invaded only 40 years ago – to be so respectful of the powerful, whether or not they are democrats.

When I was last in Prague, just before the country joined the EU, everybody complained about corruption. On my recent visit I was told that the problem was no better. At all levels of government, apparently, bribery may play a role. The courts, too, suffer from this malaise. The fact that corruption afflicts many other countries that have recently joined the EU – as well as some of the older members – is no excuse. During the 1990s the Czech Republic seemed in many ways the most advanced of the countries applying for membership. When it comes to governance, the Czechs are no longer ahead of the pack, and have fallen behind the Baltic states.

The Czechs are natural allies of the British. If one listens to people in the Czech government talking of the need to slash spending on the common agricultural policy, they sound like officials in the British Treasury. The Czechs support close transatlantic ties and are wary of European federalism.

Yet despite their natural sympathy for the UK, many Czechs complain of being ignored by the British. Ministers in London seldom find time to visit Prague – though French ministers are often in town, cultivating partnerships with the Czechs. Last autumn, when Czech ministers spoke out in favour of the British stance on Zimbabwe, and said they would boycott the EU-Africa summit if Robert Mugabe turned up, nobody in London bothered to call Prague to say thank you. The British are generally not the most popular people in Europe. They should therefore do more to nurture close ties with those who share their world view, such as the Czechs.

Charles Grant is director of the Centre for European Reform.

by Tomas Valasek

The Czech government floated proposals in May that would see the EU take a more active role in solving frozen conflicts in eastern Europe. The Czechs hold the EU’s rotating presidency next year, so their wish may become reality. But just what exactly can the EU offer? The four conflicts in Europe’s east, South Ossetia and Abkhazia, Nagorno-Karabakh, and Transdniestria, have been ‘frozen’ for so long that even hardened optimists have lost hope.

To investigate, I recently joined a German Marshall Fund-organised trip to one such ‘frozen’ place, Transdniestria. It’s a small, poor region, populated by ethnic Russians, Moldovans and Ukrainians. In 1992, it broke away from Moldova, which is only somewhat larger, equally poor, and populated by the same mix of Russians, Moldovans and Ukrainians (albeit in somewhat different proportions). The conflict over Transdniestria is a strange one indeed. There are no obvious ethnic cleavages. Its citizens mingle freely. Some 7,000 Transdniestrians study in Moldova, and 30,000 of them hold Moldovan transports. All major Transdniestrian businesses are registered in Moldova, which allows them to use Moldova’s privileged access to Russian and EU markets. The only person to die on the Moldova-Transdniestrian administrative border in recent years, the OSCE says, was a ‘visiting’ prostitute. She died when a patrolman accidentally discharged his rifle during the amorous act.

But there is no such thing as an ‘easy’ frozen conflict, and even Transdniestria, with its lack of obvious differences from Moldova, stubbornly resists re-integration. So what can the EU do to help? It turns out the EU has done much already: it helped bring about the relatively close business relationship that the two constituent parts of Moldova enjoy. But it could do more.

In November 2005 the EU launched a Border Assistance Mission to Moldova and Ukraine (EUBAM). The Moldovans deem it a massive success. The mission’s 120 customs and border experts trained officials working along the Ukrainian-Moldovan border. The EU-trained force has succeeded in seriously cutting smuggling from Transdniestria to Ukraine, effectively removing the breakaway republic’s major source of income. So Transdniestrian businesses have registered with Moldova in order to gain rights to export to Russia and the EU. This represents the most visible step towards re-integration of Moldova and Transdniestria to date.

More needs to be done to help nudge Transdniestria and Moldova together. In the long run, Moldova’s best hope for re-unification lies in making itself attractive to the Transdniestrians. It needs to become a much freer, more prosperous place. This would erode the authority of Transdniestria’s rulers, and entice the region’s population to support re-unification.

To this end, the Moldovans have launched drastic economic reforms. For example, they have cut corporate taxes to zero to entice foreign investors. But the economy is not picking up nearly as fast as it could. Moldova remains deeply corrupt, which discourages entrepreneurs and investors.

The country is not doing well on the political front either. It is a much freer society than Transdniestria (which is essentially a one-person fiefdom). But Moldova’s president, Vladimir Voronin, also has a serious authoritarian streak. He treats the opposition with disdain and arrogance. Worse, he rigs the system in his favour. His Communist party uses its control of public TV (the only source of news for about 80 per cent of Moldovans) to keep out ‘undesirable’ politicians and analysts. Voronin changed the election law in a way that will make it difficult for the (badly divided) opposition to form effective coalitions against him.

As a result, ordinary Transdniestrians do not see enough difference between Moldova and their own, even more corrupt and authoritarian leadership. Moldova is a freer and happier place than Transdniestria, but not dramatically so. It is not losing the battle for the hearts of the Transdniestrians, but it is not winning it either.

So the EU’s best contribution to solving Moldova’s frozen conflict lies in pressuring Chisinau to clean up corruption and keep society free. The EU has serious influence in Moldova. The country wants to join the European Union, and it has modelled its economic and political reforms after the new EU member-states. When the EU speaks, Moldova has a compelling reason to listen. What Brussels says, and what the Moldovans need to hear more often, is that the faster you grow and the freer you become the greater the chances of accession. Better yet: the freer and richer you become, the more attractive Moldova looks in the eyes of ordinary Transdniestrians. So Moldova would stand a better chance not only of joining the EU, but of joining it as a newly re-united state with Transdniestria.

Tomas Valasek is director of foreign policy and defence at the Centre for European Reform.

by Tomas Valasek

On July 21st, Serbian security agents hauled Radovan Karadzic off a bus in Belgrade and took him into custody. The long-wanted wartime leader of the Bosnian Serbs now awaits extradition to the International War Crimes Tribunal (ICTY) in The Hague, where he stands accused of crimes against humanity for his role in the 1992-95 Bosnia war. My conversations with analysts, journalists and diplomats in Belgrade this week suggest that his arrest could signal the beginning of Serbia’s full reconciliation with its role in the Yugoslav wars. It also opens the door to improved relations with the EU. However, Serbia’s application for EU membership will remain on hold until Belgrade and Brussels can agree on a better way of co-operating over Kosovo.

Karadzic had been hiding in Serbia for much of his 13-year run from the law. There are two schools of thought among local and Western observers in Belgrade on why the Serbian security forces moved to arrest Karadzic. Both assume that Serbia has known for a while that Karadzic had been hiding on its territory, rather than in Bosnia, where he committed his crimes. And both acknowledge that Serbia’s co-operation with the Hague Tribunal has been half-hearted of late.

Belgrade did arrest some accused war criminals, most notably Serbia’s former leader, Slobodan Milosevic. But shortly after Milosevic’s arrest – and largely because of it – elements in the security forces assassinated the then-prime minister Zoran Djindjic. Subsequent governments have been far more cautious. Belgrade would occasionally arrest smaller fish, usually right before important EU summits. This allowed Serbian governments to claim compliance with The Hague’s demands, without really dealing with Serbia’s role in the Yugoslav wars. All along, security forces loyal to the Milosevic regime were allowed to protect the most wanted criminals, like Karadzic and General Ratko Mladic, the wartime commander of the Bosnian Serb military.

So when the news of Karadzic’s arrest broke, some in Belgrade and Brussels – the first school of thought – saw it as a half-hearted attempt to improve Serbia’s image and win kudos with the European Union, which Serbia would like to join as soon as possible. But this time, things may be different. The second school of thought, to which I subscribe, argues that domestic politics played a crucial role in the arrest.

Karadzic’s arrest comes shortly after Serbia voted in what is arguably the most pro-EU government since Djindjic’s assassination. All recent Serbian governments had combined openly pro-Western parties with more nationalist voices, and so does the current coalition. But in this government the roles have been reversed. President Boris Tadic’s party ousted the nationalist prime minister, Vojislav Kostunica, who had been seen in Belgrade as the main obstacle to arrests of Karadzic and Mladic. Pro-EU parties now dominate, and they have gained a tighter control over the security apparatus. Right after forming a government, Tadic removed the head of secret service, who had helped protect indicted war criminals. The arrest of Karadzic came just two days later. People close to Tadic believe that the other remaining ‘big fish’, like Ratko Mladic, will be arrested soon as well.

Tadic won the election on a platform of bringing Serbia into the EU and attracting Western investment, both of which should improve Serbs’ poor living standards. But the EU wanted (and still wants) to see more arrests of war criminals before it moves Serbia’s application forward. No arrests, no EU integration, no foreign investment, no economic recovery. So Tadic decided that there were strong domestic reasons to move forward on the war crimes issue. The arrest of Karadzic, Serbian analysts say, has also helped boost Tadic’s image – he had a reputation for vacillating but this bold step has made him look like a leader. And he seems to have rightly calculated that the Serbian public would support him. There were precious few demonstrators in the streets of Belgrade after Karadzic’s arrest. This, in turn, made the nationalist opposition look out of touch.

On balance, Tadic’s pursuit of war criminals seems genuine. It strengthens his domestic political position, and it improves Serbia’s standing in the eyes of the EU. But Kosovo will continue to plague the Brussels-Belgrade relationship. Serbia is a candidate for EU membership, and it recently signed a new partnership agreement with the EU, the ‘stability and association agreement’, or SAA. But the EU has held up the agreement’s entry into force, in order to pressure Belgrade to apprehend war criminals. The EU also has a second reason for being reluctant to speed up Serbia’s integration process: it wants co-operation from Serbia on Kosovo. And there has been very little progress on the latter point.

Most EU states have recognised an independent Kosovo. But Serbia, even under its current government, remains categorically opposed. Instead, it has effectively divided Kosovo by taking administrative control of the country’s north where much of the population are ethnic Serbs. Belgrade now finances health workers and policemen serving local Serbs in Kosovo. It is also preventing the EU rule of law mission, EULEX, from fully deploying. Tadic has hinted at wanting to improve co-operation with the EU – for example, he is sending back Serbian ambassadors to those EU countries that have recognised Kosovo (Kostunica had recalled them). But more needs to be done; Serbia needs to allow the EU police to operate in all of Kosovo. Until then, its ties with the EU, even after Karadzic’s arrest, will remain strained.

Tomas Valasek is director of foreign policy and defence at the Centre for European Reform