WASHINGTON – When it began last March, the Syrian revolution appeared to be a textbook example for a peaceful uprising by a people united against state brutality. For weeks, videos documented the determination of the mostly youthful protesters, chanting their demands for freedom and political participation only to be faced with bullets, arrests, torture, and execution.

Syrian President Bashar al-Assad reacted with a series of gestures whose insincerity was swiftly revealed. A few hundred prisoners were released while thousands more were arrested, with many dying in custody. The decades-old state of emergency was lifted but the regime, in the name of a “security solution,” went on ruthlessly crushing the protests.

Publicly, the Syrian government asserts that “foreign powers” are instigating an insurgency in Syria to punish it for its support of what it calls the anti-Israel “resistance.” In private meetings with non-Sunni regional leaders, the regime promotes the notion that this is also a conflict between a “hegemonic Sunnism” (about three-fourths of Syrians are Sunni) and historically persecuted minorities. But support for the revolution cuts across all socio-economic strata and ethnic or religious groups. Conversely, the Assad regime has resorted to the Alawi community (approximately one-eighth of the population) as a primary pool for support; still, it neither encompasses this community in its totality, nor is limited to it.

The Syrian revolutionaries’ commitment to nonviolence was premised on expectations that they would be able to divide the security apparatus through insubordination and defections and that the world community would act to stop the massacres. Neither expectation was realized.

The revolutionaries have underestimated the ability of the regime to leverage ethnic and religious community cleavages. Recruits from the Alawi community are playing a key role in the repression. Defections are happening, but remain at about 10 percent of the military. The defectors, with no unified leadership, are unable to defeat the regime, but are used by it as proof of being engaged in combating “armed gangs.”

Even more dramatically, the international community was unable to provide the revolutionaries the support they needed. Most observers remain wary as to the implications of regime change in Syria, and indeed the revolutionaries have yet to offer a convincing post-Assad scenario to alleviate these concerns (including those of the regime’s internal constituencies). The Arab League was able to overcome substantial differences between its members on ways to manage the Syrian crisis, but as a result provided a watered-down plan that failed to satisfy the revolutionaries, and was still rejected by the regime. Meanwhile, the transatlantic alliance, the sole plausible agency for decisive support, is hamstrung by the economic crisis and a sharp decline in public tolerance for military interventions. Many strategists compare the case for Western intervention in Syria unfavorably with Libya: the latter, they argue, was “low-risk and high-reward,” whereas the former is precisely the reverse. Finally, Assad continues to be of significant value for both Iran and Russia.

All this has emboldened the Syrian regime; it is asserting that it will regain its international standing once its “security solution” is complete. Yet, with all its lethal superiority, it has been unable to achieve military victory. It has, however, managed to seriously undermine the revolutionaries’ initial commitment to nonviolence and inclusiveness. Against the protestations of many militants, the Syrian revolution has in large part become an armed uprising. This in turn allows the regime to “expose” the revolution as a violent sectarian insurgency, in order to justify resorting to even harsher measures, including arguably engineering violent sectarianism. The Assad regime’s actions may not secure its survival, but they will ensure the unraveling of Syria as a nation-state, with deadly repercussions across the region.

Russia and China’s veto of the latest UN Security Council resolution amounts to a green light for the escalation of the Syrian regime’s homicidal campaign — or, in the words of Qatar’s foreign minister, “a license to kill.”

The only way to stop Syria from sliding into an abyss now is for the transatlantic alliance to assert moral and political leadership. The Arab League’s original plan — that Assad should delegate his authority to a deputy ­­— had succeeded in trimming the demands of the rebels to yet another token action, but still ran afoul of concerted opposition by Russia and China. The League should now be encouraged to propose a bolder, more principled plan to serve as a baseline.

Obviously, it would be preferable to see this conflict addressed at the highest levels of the United Nations, but given the entrenched positions of Moscow and Beijing, that is unlikely. However, the Arab League’s position would also provide a mandate on its own for the transatlantic alliance to investigate next steps. It would also be worth preserving silence as to which steps are would be categorically excluded since the Syrian regime’s killing machine has been reinvigorated by statements of restraint from Washington.

The Assad family’s decades-long stranglehold on power has been largely based on a fear-instilling aura of power. The Syrian revolutionaries have broken through the wall of fear. Their ultimate success depends on denying the regime the ability to re-erect it. They will not be able to succeed without Western help. 

Hassan Mneimneh is a Senior Transatlantic Fellow with the German Marshall Fund in Washington, DC.

Image by Syria Press. 

BERLIN/MUMBAI–The announcement last week that India was entering into exclusive negotiations with Dassault for its Rafale fighter jet represents a major coup for the French defense contractor and for Nicolas Sarkozy. The embattled French president was evidently relieved by the prospect of the Rafale’s first ever foreign sale in a deal worth over US$10 billion, telling reporters, “we have been waiting for this day for 30 years.” The announcement is also a blow for the Eurofighter consortium, consisting of the leading aerospace manufacturers in Germany, Britain, Italy, and Spain, whose Typhoon had been the Rafale’s chief competitor. Two other recent decisions have gone against the Eurofighter group, with Switzerland opting instead for Saab’s Gripen and Japan for Lockheed Martin’s F-35. However, Eurofighter had thought itself better positioned in the Indian competition. It believed it was offering the technically superior aircraft and, indeed, the Typhoon had performed better in competitive trials in 2010.

Of course, defense sales are about much more than technical specifications, with considerations related to costs, technological transfers, joint production opportunities, and political relations playing vitally important roles. Indian observers had long discussed the higher up-front costs of the Eurofighter, but calculated over the total life cycle, the relative differences would not have been too significant. Cost is therefore unlikely to have been the sole rationale for the decision. One can only imagine that Dassault’s offers on technology transfers and joint production must have been generous. Yet Cassidian, the EADS subsidiary that led on the Eurofighter bid, had only last year signaled its commitment to India by opening the country’s first foreign-operated defense-oriented engineering center. Politically, the prospect of a sole partner in France should have been outweighed by relations with the four Eurofighter partner nations, although Indian officials may have calculated that a single partner would be easier to hold accountable than a coalition.

Where there was a real difference between the Dassault and Eurofighter bids was in the nature and scale of political support each received. The French government is comfortable with providing support for its arms export industries in ways that Germany—the lead nation on this Eurofighter bid—is not. In Germany, the idea of coordinating one’s defense, finance, and foreign ministries to support a major defense bid through the establishment of a “war room,” as Sarkozy did, is simply unimaginable. If nothing else, such top-down political support makes it easier to bundle incentives. The sale was also a clear priority for the French president, and given the Rafale’s non-existent record of exports and uncertain future, finding a foreign buyer for the aircraft had become a declared world-wide mission for Sarkozy.

These are trying times for Europe’s defense aerospace companies, with European spending on defense falling by about €24 billion in the past three years alone whilst the global marketplace is also becoming increasingly crowded. The sight of Eurofighter and Dassault competing for overseas sales is a further reminder of the complexities surrounding the ongoing attempt to pool and share Europe’s defense-industrial capabilities, efforts that should be finding new momentum in these times of austerity. Europe’s governments and industries know that between the Rafale, Typhoon, and Gripen, they have produced two more variants of fighter aircraft than they actually need. Such legacy programs  place a further  unnecessary burden on Europe’s shrinking defense budgets and constrain European militaries from effectively configuring their resources to meet evolving requirements. Worse, it is entirely unclear whether any lessons have been learned. The same national imperatives and industrial concerns are now in danger of driving the expensive development of two medium-altitude long-endurance unmanned aerial vehicles (MALE UAVs), Talarion and Telemos. The development of unmanned capabilities may well be the future for defense aerospace, but few in Europe think that two versions of a MALE UAV are really necessary. Fewer still think that Europe won’t end up with two anyway.

Sarah Raine is a non-resident fellow with the German Marshall Fund of the United States (GMF) in Berlin and a consulting research fellow with IISS. Dhruva Jaishankar is a program officer with GMF’s Asia Program in Washington.

WARSAW / WASHINGTON – For hundreds of years, Poland suffered from an overbearing Germany that trampled on the rights of the Polish nation, occupied the country, and, at times, worked to extinguish the Polish nation-state entirely. No wonder that there is a residue of skepticism and caution in Poland when it comes to relations with its big neighbor to the west. A healthy distance and dose of hedging have long been the default position of the country’s foreign policy. Poland’s accession to the European Union has changed all that. Nearly eight years on, Poland is rephrasing its German question, and in a baffling way: how close is too close?

Last week, Poland consented to a European agreement that it did not like in the interest of keeping the continent together. European leaders had agreed on a fiscal compact, a treaty aimed at strengthening the fiscal discipline in the EU countries that choose to sign it, and set governing rules for the eurozone. Prime Minister Donald Tusk faced an uncomfortable choice. On one hand, Poland has declared itself a staunchly pro-European country. In his now-famous Berlin speech last year, Polish Foreign Minister Radek Sikorski spoke of the need for a strong, united, and even federal union. On the other hand, the eurozone was potentially moving ahead without Poland. The plan shaping up ahead of the summit called for meetings of the 17 eurozone countries, excluding Poland from what is seen in Warsaw as a vital decision-making body of a changing EU. Consequently, Tusk threatened Poland might not sign the treaty if this mechanism was not changed.

In Warsaw, eurozone summits are not simply seen as a crisis management mechanism for the euro, but as a nucleus of a smaller club in which most of the key decisions for the EU are made, some in areas beyond the single currency. France is the most active proponent of eurozone-only solutions, and a zero-sum game between France and Poland has developed around the question of a two-speed Europe. Warsaw fears that France wants to undo the EU’s eastern enlargement. Seen from Warsaw, inclusion is a core national interest; Poland did not join the European Union only to find itself sidelined.

The other eurozone members faced a dilemma of their own. No democratic theory stipulates that nonmembers ought to have voting rights in membership organizations. Since voting rights for nonmembers are out of the question, the group considered the PNV principle — “participate, not vote.” But even speaking rights would give nonmembers the opportunity to influence, and maybe even undermine, goals that member states deem essential to sustaining their common currency. Nonmembers should not benefit from the currency union while not contributing to it, and nonmembers should have an incentive to join. But strict exclusion of nonmembers is in nobody’s interest. Some nonmembers are really “not-yet-members.” They are, like Poland, candidate countries working to qualify and waiting for the right moment to join. They have a right to know what’s going on in the club they are aspiring to join. The more the eurozone coordinates to save its currency, the more it will make decisions that affect all 27 EU members. They might pertain to competitiveness, social systems, and taxes.

Keeping Poland in the cold is least of all in Germany’s interest. Poland is the most pro-European country outside the eurozone. Why alienate it? Last weekend, Germany got a taste of what that might mean when Sikorski warned that Germany should not even try to aspire to be a benevolent hegemon. Poland is Germany’s crucial ally for a more federal Europe and a power to help balance the less ambitious Brits and the more confederate French. Poland is essential in order to lead Central and Eastern Europe towards the eurozone and prevent Europe from splitting in two. It has rarely had a more central role in Europe and has never been a more pivotal partner of Germany.

In true European fashion, this led to a compromise, albeit an ugly one. The agreement allows non-eurozone countries to take part in the eurozone summits at least once a year, and whenever issues of competitiveness or the architecture of the eurozone are discussed. Additionally, Herman Van Rompoy, president of the European Council, assured that any summit of the euro 17 will be preceded by a meeting of all EU 27 member states.

An unhappy Tusk contends the agreement still establishes a decision-making format in which Poland does not have a vote, and frequently will not even be present at the deliberations. Nonetheless, Poland decided to join the other 24 signatories (the U.K. and the Czech Republic were the holdouts), marking yet another time that Poland chose “more Europe” when presented with a choice. The Europe Poland is choosing is less and less to its liking, but it is easier to influence the club from the inside than from the outside.

Despite a building relationship with Germany, Warsaw’s support of Berlin’s leadership in Europe is anything but unconditional: “Provided you [Germany] will include us in decision-making, Poland will support you,” Sikorski emphasized in his Berlin speech. Poland knows that it cannot always count on the unwavering support from its western neighbor, especially if Germany had to choose between Poland and France. Tusk’s goal now is to broaden Poland’s alliances within the eurozone, starting with Spain and Italy. Germany will have to earn Poland’s support.

Michal Baranowski  is the Senior Program Officer for Foreign Policy and Civil Society in the German Marshall Fund’s Warsaw office. Thomas Kleine-Brockhoff is a Senior Fellow and Senior Director for Strategy at GMF’s Washington, DC office.

PARIS–President Barack Obama’s announcement last June of an accelerated U.S. troop withdrawal from Afghanistan reopened debates in many European countries over when their soldiers should return from that unpopular war. French President Nicolas Sarkozy followed a few days later with an announcement that French troops would be reduced “in a proportional manner and in a calendar comparable to the withdrawal of American reinforcements.” Now, the tables have turned. With last week’s announcement, it was France that reset the transition calendar, arguing that progress in the transition allowed for the withdrawal of 1,000 French troops by the end of 2012. Although many U.S., Afghan, and NATO observers were initially critical, the Obama administration announced only a few days later that the United States also planned to end its combat mission in Afghanistan by mid-2013 and shift primarily to advising Afghan forces.

Both Sarkozy’s and Obama’s calls for a speedier NATO exit from Afghanistan reflect the depth of war fatigue in the West, the unpopularity of the Afghan war, and the relentless budgetary and political pressures leaders face to bring their troops home early. As Obama put it in his June 2011 speech on Afghanistan, “it is time to focus on nation building here at home,” a sentiment shared by many in Europe. The French military engagement in Afghanistan has always been perceived in France as a “war of solidarity” without clearly defined strategic objectives, aimed at repairing U.S.-French relations after France’s refusal to participate in the coalition against Iraq in 2003. Coming just three months before the election, Sarkozy’s announcement reflects a compromise between the Lisbon NATO consensus and his presidential campaign rival Francois Hollande’s promise of ending the French military presence in Afghanistan by the end of 2012. But in fact, both dates are unrealistic considering the unpreparedness of the Afghan security forces to lead coalition forces and the overreliance of the Afghan government on external assistance.

Indeed, the argument that progress has been made in Afghanistan is disputable. Today, in the province of Kapisa, Afghan representatives recognize that their security forces are not ready to assume the responsibilities of the coalition. Growing anti-Western sentiments, stemming from a serious trust deficit between Afghans and coalition forces and combined with the operational unpreparedness of Afghan forces, a weak central government, and the Taliban’s high morale, raise serious questions about the post-2014 role of the United States and its allies. A series of recent incidents in which Afghan troops have turned on their Western allies confirms the failure of the counterinsurgency and “winning hearts and minds” tactics deployed in Afghanistan over the last few years, as well as the flaws in the training mission in the absence of a legitimate central authority.

The coalition’s decade of military engagement in Afghanistan is a story of constant oscillation between three strategies that were never really connected. After a phase of “Americanization” of the Afghan war through the surge, and a phase of “internationalization” with the increase in coalition members’ contributions and assistance, “Afghanization” or the “transition” phase involving the training of local security forces has become the central pillar of the coalition’s exit strategy. But when the strategy becomes about exiting, the strategy of the weak prevails in setting the international calendar and the narrative. In fact, as both the French and American decisions illustrate, the gradual foreign troop reductions have mostly been in response to forces other than security progress in Afghanistan.

Alexandra de Hoop Scheffer is Director of the Paris office of the German Marshall Fund of the United States. 

French President Nicolas Sarkozy’s recent announcement that French troops would hand over their security responsibilities to Afghan forces by the end of 2013 — a year earlier than the completion of the NATO combat mission — has caused some to declare that the entire Afghanistan operation is at risk. The French decision certainly reflects Sarkozy’s need to address pressing domestic pressure to bring forces home as his presidential reelection campaign begins. But Sarkozy will have to balance this with the need to maintain France’s reputation within NATO. There will be times when alliance interests will need to trump national interest. The decision must also be put into context. It poses little operational risk, and is by no means a repudiation of the validity of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) mission in Afghanistan. What the French decision does reflect is the politics that accompany any coalition mission, however undesirable.

From an operational standpoint, there is no doubt that the 4,000 French troops in Afghanistan, mainly in Kapisa province, have made a difference. French forces have shown acuity in counterinsurgency operations, and French trainers, especially gendarmes, have been critical to increasing the capacity of Afghan National Security Forces. But as with all ISAF nations, the French are now looking at what the expected 2014 transition will mean and how they can best support Afghanistan during this process and beyond. For many states, this will mean a shift away from combat to training operations. Thus, the more important question is what role will France choose to play beyond transition and will it reflect the balance between national and alliance interests? While France has signed a 20-year strategic partnership agreement with Afghanistan to cover security, economic, and political cooperation, it remains unclear what mix of forces France would contribute to a training mission through 2014 and beyond. A firm French commitment at the upcoming NATO summit to provide significant numbers of personnel to NATO and EU training missions would be especially welcome as the planning for a post-2014 Afghanistan continues. Likewise, specified commitments to development projects and expertise to assist the Afghan government in establishing more effective rule of law could have an even greater impact in addressing the strategic vulnerabilities of the Afghan state.

While it is certainly irksome that the French chose not to use the Joint Afghan-NATO Inteqal Board (JANIB) process to work through the timeline on transition in Kapisa, the decision was not a surprise to NATO or Afghan government officials. Indeed, Presidents Karzai and Sarkozy had already agreed to the 2013 timeline in pre-decisional meetings prior to the public announcement. Both NATO and the Afghan government have long expected Kapisa province to transition as part of the third “tranche,” likely to be announced in March 2012. This will give ISAF and Afghan forces plenty of time to fully handover security operations and prepare Kapisa for Afghan leadership. While the pace of the French drawdown has been increased there will still be about 3,000 French troops in Afghanistan at the end of 2012. In short, the French decision is simply a repackaging of the milestones that have been discussed for almost two years now.

Coalitions are, almost by definition, imperfect creatures. They are politically complex and require considerable investment and management to get them to work. Indeed, Napoleon is reported to have said that he’d rather fight against a coalition than as part of one. But it is equally important to recall that it was, in the end, a coalition that defeated Napoleon. The art of leading a successful coalition requires balancing national and alliance interests and an understanding of when to give one way or another. In an age of budget austerity, NATO members must continue to remember that alliances mean shared commitment, shared contributions, and shared sacrifice. In Afghanistan the transition process has also always had an unwritten purpose — to keep the NATO allies and ISAF partners together until the Afghans could lead on their own and it was formulated with an eye towards maintaining sufficient domestic political support in each nation so that force contributions could continue, even if they had to be adjusted over time. Building and maintaining a coalition is not always a pretty process, but it is a necessary one, and in Afghanistan it will be better to win messy than lose pretty.

Mark Jacobson, former Deputy NATO Senior Civilian Representative in Afghanistan, is a senior fellow at the German Marshall Fund of the United States in Washington DC.

WASHINGTON–Mitt Romney, one of the leading Republican U.S. Presidential candidates, has informed his countrymen over the past few weeks that U.S. President Barack Obama is working to turn the United States into Europe. This, one might think, is good news. Presumably it suggests that a unified “West” is closer to becoming a reality. The president, someone in Washington D.C., is working for ever greater convergence in the world’s greatest alliance. After decades of unabashed Americanization of Europe, it seems, the tables are turning. In due time, the need for transatlantic learning and knowledge transfer between friends and partners will be obsolete. We will all be one happy family.

Indeed, from the perspective of a Republican presidential candidate there is much to like about Europe these days. After all, Europe is largely run by fellow conservatives. They preach and (increasingly) practice fiscal responsibility and structural reform to fix the ills of the continent — a strategy candidate Romney calls on President Obama to embrace.

Let’s pause right here and stop fantasizing. The reality is quite different. Yes, Mitt Romney sees the United States as being transformed into another version of Europe. But in Romney’s eyes that’s no compliment, rather it’s an insult. Romney contends that under Obama, a “European-style welfare state” is America’s destiny. Or, in another version of this horrific vision that permeates most of the candidate’s campaign speeches, “a European-style entitlement society.” Obama, according to Romney, “takes his inspiration from the capitals of Europe; we look to the cities and small towns of America.” Learning from Europe seems to “poison the very spirit of America.” Fellow Republican candidate Rick Santorum agrees, claiming that Obama is “trying to impose some sort of European socialism on the United States.” Not to be outdone, candidate Newt Gingrich, in his South Carolina victory speech on Saturday night, detected the emergence of a “brand new, secular European-style bureaucratic socialism” in America.

So, why are the Republican presidential candidates running against Europe rather than against each other? Why is Europe a dirty word in this campaign? First of all, the vilification of Europe is not a new phenomenon in U.S. politics. Remember the “cheese-eating surrender monkeys”? That epithet, common during the debate about the intervention in Iraq in 2003, referred to the French, for whom the worst abuse is traditionally reserved. The French, often linked with the Germans to form an alliance of “Euroweenies,” chose to sit out the war against Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction and were thus scolded for having lost their “moral compass.” That incident happened barely ten years ago, but one might go back hundreds of years and still detect the same type of argument about Europe. As Princeton historian Linda Colley has pointed out, Americans have traditionally understood their history, culture, and identity in contrast to Europe’s. The United States was founded as the antidote to Europe. The old continent was “the other,” against which to define oneself. The history of immigration helped to entrench the view that one side of the Atlantic was intrinsically better and more blessed than the other. European decadence was replaced by “authentic Americanism.” Europe, as described by the novels of Henry James, was both corrupt and corrupting. “America was a country of innocence, virtue, happiness, and liberty as against a Europe of vice, ignorance, misery, and tyranny,” writes historian C. Vann Woodward. Thus, it was anti-Europeanism that reinforced the new idea of U.S. exceptionalism.

Initially, Anti-Europeanism has risen in combination with an inferiority complex vis-a-vis the supposedly culturally superior Europeans. Certainly, World War II and Europe’s inability to solve its own problems at that time cured Americans of any sense of humility. Since the Cold War, anti-Europeanism has by no means been a U.S. obsession. It has come and gone in waves and has only established itself as a staple of the intellectual life of one wing of U.S. conservatism, just as its sibling, European anti-Americanism, found its home mostly on the political left. The Eurobashers on the U.S. right use a few standard leitmotifs to make their case against the “EU-nuchs” whose “values and spines have dissolved in a lukewarm bath of multilateral, transnational, secular, and postmodern fudge,” to quote the ironic characterization of writer Timothy Garton Ash. At times, anti-Europeanism can be quite funny, especially when skillfully expressed by George W. Bush who famously said: “The problem with the French is that they don’t have a word for entrepreneur.”

The question is how seriously to take all of this Eurobaloney? In this Republican presidential primary campaign, Europe has been nothing but a foil. Anti-Europeanism has been a code word for anti-liberalism.  At the same time, Americans have long appealed to European politicians not to pander to the anti-American segments of the European public, fearing that fleeting prejudice could turn into lasting chauvinism. Gerhard Schroeder, then-German Chancellor, earned condemnation in the United States when he played to the pacifist anti-Americanism of his electorate to gain re-election in 2002. Should Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich, and the rest of the Republican candidates really be held to a different standard?

Thomas Kleine-Brockhoff is a Senior Fellow and Senior Director for Strategy at the German Marshall Fund of the United States 

WASHINGTON– Strange as it may seem to some, there are those who wish to join the European Union, in spite of all its current flaws.

Croatian voters gave a resounding yes to becoming the 28^th member state of the European Union in a referendum held last Sunday. The country is slated to join as a full member on July 1, 2013, after the parliaments of all 27 current member states ratify the treaty of accession to the EU that Croatia signed in December 2011. The European model of interstate cooperation, the successful European peace project, the single market, and the principle of solidarity and mutual support: all these continue to exert the power of attraction to outsiders wanting to join.

The European Union, founded in 1957, is currently fighting one of its deepest crises: It is struggling to salvage the joint currency of 17 of its 27 member states. Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany and other EU leaders have equated saving the euro with saving the Union itself.  There is a growing renationalization of politics in European countries, and fear of “others” is on the rise. Despite all this, a European country, Croatia, has decided through a democratic procedure that it wishes to join this European Union.

Croatian leaders have hailed this victory as “a great day for Croatia,” “a new day and a new chapter,” “a decision of such importance that we have made ourselves for the first time,” and “finding a haven guaranteeing security and peace.” But they also underlined that the dilemmas and concerns of those who voted against entry or abstained from voting have to be given due consideration.

The low turnout and the third of voters voting against entry were disappointing for many in Croatia, but also to a degree understandable. The crisis of the European Union, the fear that sovereignty is being taken away — after what has been perceived as a hard-fought war for national independence — the worry that now Croatia might also have to help bail out countries such as Greece, and the deep concern that a country that represents 0.8% of the population of the EU and 1.6% of EU parliamentarians will have no effective say in the affairs of the EU — all this created a relevant Eurosceptic movement and led more than half of the eligible voters to abstain.

In an electorate composed of 4.5 million voters, the turnout was 43.5%. This was, to date, the lowest turnout in an EU accession referendum. Of those who voted, 66.27% were for entry, 33.12% against.

Until now, 15 countries of the EU have asked their citizens to approve accession in referenda. The lowest turnout in a referendum for EU entry before Croatia was in Hungary in 2003, when 45.62% turned out, but 83% voted for joining the Union. Relatively low turnouts were registered in 2003 in the Czech Republic and Poland (55% and 58%) but with 77% majorities for entry. The highest turnout was in Malta with 90%, but “only” 53% voted for entry. Swedish voters in 1995 voted with the lowest majority for entry (52.8%). The biggest majority for entry was in Slovakia with 92.5%, with a 52% turnout. Denmark in 1973 and Finland in 1995 returned less than two-third majorities for entry. Meanwhile, Norway rejected entry twice, in 1973 and 1995, with majorities of 53.3% and 52.2%.

Why did Croatian voters decide to enter the EU? And, why did they do it with somewhat less conviction than their predecessors?

The common wisdom of the Croatian and other Western Balkan publics, where there are majorities for accession, is that it is better, as small and economically weak countries, to join a still very prosperous Union of 500 million people and 27 member states, than to stay outside of it. A Europe that has seen 67 years of post-war peace makes for an inviting haven for the successor states of the former Yugoslavia, who went through a harrowing conflict in the 1990s. For them, entry into the EU is still, above all, a guarantee of security, stability, and peace. In this stricken corner of Europe, the EU’s soft power is very real.

Enlargement of the EU, one of its greatest successes, continues despite “fatigue” — and despite long waiting times. (Croatia handed in its formal application for EU membership in 2003.) The next members in line, apart from Iceland, which is on a fast track, will probably do so at the earliest toward the end of this decade. Montenegro is a formal candidate for EU accession, with a date set for talks; Macedonia is a candidate; Serbia is awaiting candidacy in March. Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) has signed a Stabilization and Association Agreement. Kosovo’s case is the most complicated, since it remains unrecognized as a state by Serbia, BiH, and five EU member states, and has as yet no formal relationship with the EU. And then, of course, there is Turkey.

The “Yes” of Croatia’s citizens is a historical watershed: for the country itself, for a formerly war-torn region, and for the EU. It is another step towards the completion of an integrated Europe, free, democratic, and at peace.

Ivan Vejvoda is the German Marshal Fund’s Vice President for Programs

WASHINGTON – As he campaigned for the U.S. presidency in 1952, Republican candidate Dwight D. Eisenhower argued that he would seek to bring “security with solvency” to the American people.  Eisenhower realized that the challenges posed by the Soviet Union could too easily stress America’s finite resources and a strategy to face that threat consider the economic roots of America’s military power and influence in the world. For Eisenhower, economic power was the indispensable source of American global leadership.

In his State of the Union address Tuesday evening, U.S. President Barack Obama seemed to recognize Eisenhower’s insight.  Obama focused largely on the economic challenges still facing the United States — but framed those challenges in the context of recent national security victories and the achievements of the World War II generation.  While Obama did focus on domestic affairs, he both opened and closed his address by praising America’s men and women in uniform — one of the few points drawing bi-partisan applause – and took stock of a broad set of foreign policy and security challenges that face the United States today. He also made clear that the new U.S. defense strategy would also balance security with solvency — saving nearly half a trillion dollars but maintaining the type of first-rate military required to deal with current and emerging threats.

Obama’s address included a call to learn from the shared sacrifice, partnership, and teamwork that the U.S. military demonstrates day after day, to include that shown in the mission to kill Osama bin Laden in May of last year — clearly the most significant national security event of the past twelve months.

Obama was assertive in his description of his vision of America’s role in the world but realistic when considering the complexity of the challenges ahead. In stark contrast to much of the isolationist rhetoric of the Republican primary debates, he argued that America continues to be a strong, ascendant world leader with a “steadfast” commitment to allies around the globe.

Of course, Obama noted the end of the war in Iraq and the determination to transition to Afghan leadership.  He also acknowledged the “wave of change” brought about by the Arab Spring and issued a sharp rebuke to the Assad regime — noting that they would soon discover “that the forces of change can’t be reversed and that human dignity can’t be denied.”   He praised the power of partnerships that have enabled a unified approach to counter the Iranian quest for nuclear weapons but was realistic in his assessment of whether this in and of itself would provide the solution.  Coming a day after U.S., British, and French warships entered the Persian Gulf despite threats from Iran; Obama reiterated that while he hoped for a peaceful resolution, “no options” were off the table.

It is telling that while facing a tough re-election in a poor economy, Obama has chosen to frame domestic problems within the context of foreign policy successes.  It is a clear indication that even while Washington focuses on a Presidential election campaign, the administration will not abdicate the responsibilities the United States has as a global leader.

Mark R. Jacobson is a Senior Transatlantic Fellow at the German Marshall Fund. He has formerly served at the Department of Defense and on the staff of the Senate Armed Services Committee. The views expressed are his own.

Fewer than 30 days into the new year, the foreign policy agenda for Europe and North America has already become crowded.  North Korea, Iran, Syria, potential breakthroughs in Burma, and the still roiling revolutionary fervor in the Middle East are but a few of the issues facing transatlantic policymakers.  Iraq, facing renewed violence in the wake of Coalition troop withdrawals, and Afghanistan, where France just lost more soldiers and ambivalence reigns on negotiating with the Taliban, have not gone away.

Add to this volatile mix national elections in the United States, France, and elsewhere and it is easy to forget one of the landmark events of 2011:  the July 9^th independence of South Sudan.  Moreover, although remembrance of the new nation’s founding is appropriate, what is more critical is that Europe and North America sustain the generally positive and optimistic dynamics of South Sudan’s birth.

These dynamics came into focus for me when I attended the recent International Engagement Conference on South Sudan, organized by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) in Washington.  The two-day session, addressed by the first President of South Sudan, the Honorable Salva Kiir Mayardit, saw presentations by World Bank President Zoellick, United Nations Development Programme Administrator Clark, senior European Union officials, and numerous ministerial level representatives from Sudan, Europe and North America, including U.S. Secretary of State Clinton.  The conference list of co-sponsors boded well for continued world engagement with South Sudan:  The UN; the World Bank, including the International Finance Corporation; the African Union; the European Union; the governments of Norway, Turkey, the United Kingdom, and the United States; the NGO coalition InterAction; and the Corporate Council for Africa.

And well should these international heavyweights be interested.  Not only does South Sudan possess very large – how large is yet to be fully determined – petroleum reserves, but the White Nile and other resources could be world-class sources of renewable energy.  Some of us are old enough to remember when the southern reaches of Sudan were heralded as Africa’s “breadbasket,” and the combination of vast, fertile, and well-watered lands has re-awakened interest in South Sudan’s food-producing potential.  Although its internal population is under ten million, South Sudan is at the center of a regional market containing 250 million.  And, politically, a stable South Sudan could be a bulwark against trans-national violence in a Great Lakes region that has hovered on the edge of chaos for decades.

Looked at through a slightly different lens, the risks of the transatlantic community not focusing on this fragile, newborn state are high.  South Sudan lies in a rough, violent neighborhood, bordering on regions of eastern Democratic Republic of Congo and northern Uganda notorious for fragile governance and violent atrocities.  South Sudan remains one of the most underdeveloped regions of the world (there exist fewer than 200 kilometers of paved roads in a nation-state the size of France), and underinvestment in the country’s optimistic, rapidly growing population runs the risk of spawning a crisis of rising, but unfulfilled, expectations.  Despite the generally cordial breakup of Sudan last July, the specter of continued instability haunts the Sudan-South Sudan border, with the risks of violence and human displacement ever present.  USAID reports that the U.S. government alone spent nearly $10 billion in primarily humanitarian aid in the six years prior to independence alone, a level of resources from donor nations that must now be shifted to the long-term development account, if the promise of independence is to be fulfilled.  Foreign investment, on which the new government in the capital of Juba is relying heavily, comes at this point primarily from Asia, with Chinese investment in petroleum exploration prominent.  Personally, I harbor no antipathy to Chinese investment in Africa, but – a little competition being a healthy thing – business people from the transatlantic nations should be on the ground, as well.

The International Engagement Conference on South Sudan provided a useful venue to focus on the new state’s potential.  The challenge for Europe and North America, going forward, will be to maintain, amid a daunting foreign policy agenda, the sustained focus required to fulfill the promise of a successful South Sudan, and avoid the substantial risks of under-investing in the world’s newest country.

James Kunder is a non-resident fellow at the German Marshall Fund in Washington, DC.

WASHINGTON–A year ago, during his State of the Union address, U.S. President Barack Obama set a goal for a national high-speed rail (HSR) network: 85 percent of the country’s population would have access to HSR within 25 years. One year later, that goal seems wildly optimistic.

Within a month of Obama’s speech, Florida Governor Rick Scott joined the governors of Ohio and Wisconsin (all Republicans) in rejecting HSR funds that had been targeted for his state. He, like many critics of HSR, argued that the project was too costly during a time of economic crisis and the risks would outweigh the benefits. Then, earlier this month, California’s HSR effort appeared to run out of steam. The California High-Speed Rail Peer Review Group, an independent body created by the California High-Speed Rail Authority to advise on the proposed system, released a report that detailed numerous concerns about the project’s overall funding plan and the lack of a fully vetted business plan. In the end, the report concludes that too many flaws and financial unknowns exist in the plans, representing “an immense financial risk” to the state of California. The report might well kill the prospects for a true HSR project in the United States for the foreseeable future.

So, why did Obama’s signature infrastructure project meet such a quick demise? While each project has its own reasons for failure, the Obama administration also made a critical tactical error in the way it awarded funds. Instead of identifying and investing in one promising project, the administration allocated $10 billion ($8 billion from the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act and $2 billion from appropriations) to 13 HSR projects in 31 states to foster the development of a national HSR network all at once. Additional federal funds for the network (approximately $43 billion according to Obama’s plan) were to be secured through the annual appropriations processes. The administration’s strategy appears to have been to hope the initial federal investments would spur even more substantial state and local investments in HSR, especially in a number of swing states, leading to the creation of a national network. At current estimates, a national HSR network could cost hundreds of billions of dollars — the California system alone is projected at $98 billion. With dramatic budget cuts looming, a slow economic recovery, and a toxic political environment, this strategy is not viable.

The lack of significant progress on HSR is unfortunate. A well-planned and smartly operated HSR system can be transformational for cities, helping them to maintain or improve quality of life and enhance economic competitiveness in the global economy. At one level, HSR facilitates intercity travel, fosters regionalism, and can enhance regional economic viability. At another level, as populations and densities are projected to rise in America’s large urban regions, new and better mobility alternatives will be imperative to meet a host of associated challenges. When integrated intelligently with other modes of transportation into the urban fabric, HSR can help stimulate the development of economically vibrant corridors and station stops.

A better approach to start up a national HSR network in the United States can be found in Spain. Over the past two decades, Spain has created the longest HSR network in Europe. However, AVE, the Spanish network, began with a single project, the Madrid-Seville line, which proved itself for more than 10 years before significant expansion occurred. The line, averaging 185 mph, cut the 300-mile trip time by more than half between the two cities, significantly decreasing the automobile and air travel between them but increasing the number of individual trips. Equally compelling, existing businesses near AVE stations have reported significant benefits from the investments in infrastructure. None of this is to say that Spanish HSR has been perfect — the Spanish government ultimately may have over-invested. But if the Obama administration chooses to revisit HSR, a more effective strategy would be to start small, be focused, invest smartly, and allow HSR to prove itself, which could put aspirations for a national HSR rail network back on track.

Brent Riddle is a Senior Program Officer in the German Marshall Fund’s Urban and Regional Program.