European Politics

Turkey tends to march to its own drum in international affairs.

Take the United Nations vote on Dec. 14, 2022, when the body’s General Assembly approved a resolution in favor of a New International Economic Order. Some 123 member states – largely the countries of Africa, Asia and Latin America – voted in favor; only 50 cast a ballot against. Turkey was the only abstention – emblematic of the foreign policy of a country that strides the divide between Europe and Asia, East and West, North and South.

Or consider the most recent expansion of the NATO military alliance: Turkey held back its support for the entry of Sweden for nearly two years, much to the chagrin of fellow members.

It was nonetheless a remarkable moment when Turkey formally announced in September 2024 that it was applying to join the BRICS Plus group – the first time a NATO member country has requested membership in a club born in 2006 out of dissatisfaction with Western-dominated global governance mechanisms and that has since expanded from its original lineup of Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa.

With NATO being the bulwark of the Western alliance, and BRICS seen as a key challenger to that established order, this is no minor matter – especially in a year in which BRICS is chaired by Russia, currently at war with Ukraine, and at a time when NATO members are scrambling to support Ukraine in whichever way they can.

The move by Ankara, which the United States has by now decided to live with, suggests Turkey is increasingly wary about achieving its foreign policy goals primarily through the West’s institutions.

Between two worlds?

Turkey’s interest in joining BRICS does not come out of the blue. As far back as 2018, after being invited to attend that year’s BRICS annual summit meeting, Turkey had been toying with the idea of doing so. Looking back, it was only a question of time for full membership to happen.

Straddling the European and Asian continents, Turkey has long been attracted to the European Union, the world’s largest single market and a key Western institution, and has made repeated attempts to join the body during the 21-year rule of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Yet, the EU has been adamant that it is not ready to accept it as a full member.

Trade agreements? Yes. Military cooperation through NATO? No problem. But full membership that grants voting rights in the European Commission, the European Council and the European Parliament? Nope, not yet.

With a population of over 85 million, Turkey would be the largest country in the EU if it joined – surpassing Germany, with about 84 million – and would thus play a key role in its governance and leadership.

Yet amid a surge of Arab and African migration to Europe – and a concomitant rise in anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim sentiment – European acceptance of a nonwhite, Muslim-majority nation in its midst seems less likely than ever.

As has been apparent in the contrasting reactions to the war in Ukraine and to the one in Gaza, many Europeans have come to define the continent as “white and Christian.” They see Europe as under siege from the rest of what it considers to be an uncivilized world.

This notion has been reinforced by the rise of the far right in recent European elections and is even reflected in some of the rhetoric coming out of senior policymakers in Brussels. The European Union’s high representative for foreign affairs and security policy, Josep Borrell, for example, said in a 2022 speech to young European diplomats: “Europe is a garden. We have built a garden, where everything works,” but “most of the rest of the world is a jungle, and the jungle could invade the garden.” It was a comment for which he later apologized.

Looking beyond the West

In addition to facing a cold shoulder from the EU, Turkey also seemingly feels hampered by the broader Western-dominated global order. The Erdogan government blames the West, and especially the U.S., for holding back the growth of its defense sector, and its industry in general, and for not allowing the country to take the place it deserves in world affairs as a rising middle power.

For example, Turkey’s 2019 acquisition of the Russian S-400 missile defense system led to a prolonged spat with the U.S., which blocked Turkey from acquiring F-35 fighter jets as a result. And Washington only reluctantly gave the green light to Turkey’s purchase of 40 F-16 fighter jets earlier this year, a transaction that met significant opposition in the U.S. Senate.

Beyond the differences with Western entities of various kinds, Turkey also has grievances about the existing global order. A particular pet peeve for Erdogan is the composition of the United Nations Security Council and its five veto-wielding permanent members – the U.S., the United Kingdom, France, China and Russia – something he feels does not reflect the geopolitical realities of the 21st century.

To be sure, Turkey has concluded that it will stick with NATO and continue to do much of its foreign trade with Europe, where its main export markets are. But in the wake of what some refer to as the Asian century, Turkey sees the world as moving in a different direction.

Joining BRICS would thus open new opportunities both on the economic and the diplomatic front. In fact, such a move would put Turkey in a key position as a diplomatic bridge between East and West, as well as between North and South, with a foot in each of these camps, while also bolstering its position in all.

“Turkey can become a strong, prosperous, prestigious and effective country if it improves its relations with the East and the West simultaneously,” Erdogan said in early September. “Any method other than this will not benefit Turkey but will harm it.”

The evolution of BRICS

BRICS has come a long way from the days of its founding in 2006, when many commentators in the Western media dismissed the organization as an entity that talked a good game but didn’t get much done.

It now has its own bank, the New Development Bank, based in Shanghai, with an initial capital allocation of US$50 billion, and whose performance in its first decade of existence has been well evaluated by credit agencies and the press. BRICS also has a Contingent Reserve Arrangement to provide member states with protection against global liquidity pressures.

Russia is the current chair of the BRICS group.
Sefa Karacan/Anadolu via Getty Images

From the original four members – Brazil, Russia, India and China – to which South Africa was added in 2010, the group now has nine members. Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran and the United Arab Emirates joined in 2024, while Saudi Arabia has mulled accepting the invitation it was extended at the BRICS summit held in Johannesburg in August 2023. Now dubbed “BRICS Plus,” the body represents 46% of the world’s population, 29% of the world’s GDP, 43% of oil production and 25% of global exports.

The BRICS economies clearly complement Turkey’s. Half of Turkey’s natural gas imports come from Russia, and China’s Belt and Road Initiative aims to connect the world’s fastest-growing region, East Asia, with the world’s biggest single market, Europe, with Turkey positioned as a key distribution hub for the Middle East, Africa and Central Asia.

A bigger platform

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the BRICS group would provide Turkey with a bigger diplomatic platform from which to air its demands and leverage its influence. This should not be surprising from a country that believes, as many others in the Global South, it has gotten a raw deal from the West and is keen to reform the existing order.

Singaporean diplomat Kishore Mahbubani famously argued that the Asian century started on March 13, 2015 – the day a Conservative government in the U.K. applied to join the Beijing-based Asian Investment and Infrastructure Bank, defying the express wishes of Washington.

Without putting too fine a point on it, one could well argue that a page has been turned in the transition toward a less Western world when the first NATO member, in this case Turkey, applied to join BRICS. More

Many Poles were outraged by abortion restrictions put in place during the previous government. That doesn’t mean they agree on the path forward. More

When Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk formed a coalition government in 2023 committed to making “historic changes,” he promised to improve the country’s track record on women’s rights. Noticeably absent in the coalition’s agreement, however, was any specific wording on access to abortion, one of the most controversial issues under the previous government.

The coalition parties are united in their opposition to the conservative Law and Justice Party, PiS, which led the government for eight years. PiS weakened Poland’s democracy by undermining the independence of the judiciary and placing restrictions on the media, and it strained its relationship with the European Union. PiS also ushered in some of the strictest abortion laws in Europe, with the help of hand-picked judges from Poland’s Constitutional Tribunal.

Poland’s three main coalition partners – the Civic Coalition, the Third Way and The Left – all want to soften Poland’s near-ban on abortion. Yet they disagree on how this should happen and how far the changes should go, meaning the government is struggling to deliver on its campaign promises.

As a scholar of civil society in central Europe, I have followed abortion debates in Poland for years. Poles’ views of abortion are shaped by religious, historical, political and cultural factors that make legislative changes challenging, despite the fact that most Poles favor some change in the current laws.

From strict to stricter

At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Poland’s Constitutional Tribunal made a significant change in Poland’s already strict abortion laws, prompting massive protests. The court removed the right to abortions because of birth defects, which had accounted for more than 90% of all abortions.

Since January 2021, abortion has been allowed only in cases of rape, incest or when a mother’s health is in danger. Under these laws, which also allowed the former government to arrest people for abortion-related activities, about half a dozen women experiencing pregnancy complications have died after being denied abortions.

A demonstrator holds a coat hanger, a symbol of self-induced abortion, on Nov. 18, 2020, during a protest against abortion restrictions.
AP Photo/Agata Grzybowska

In January 2024, the new government reversed PiS legislation from 2017 that required women to obtain a doctor’s prescription for over-the-counter emergency contraception, often called the morning-after pill. However, Polish President Andrzej Duda, an ally of PiS, vetoed the bill.

Church and culture

Sixty percent of the Polish population thinks abortion should be legal, according to a 2022 global survey by Ipsos. Less than 25%, however, are in favor of abortion being legal without any restrictions.

Those who oppose abortion are a vocal and well-organized group. On April 14, 2024, tens of thousands of people joined a National March for Life through Warsaw. Organizers estimated that at least 50,000 people participated, claiming that it was the largest Polish anti-abortion gathering in the 21st century.

Abortion opponents are supported by the Catholic Church, which remains a powerful institution in Poland despite declining church attendance. In 1992, weekly church attendance was about 70%; by 2021, it had decreased to 43%. Just a year later, another study found that only 30% of Polish Catholics regularly attend Sunday Mass.

Anti-abortion demonstrators in Warsaw march in April 2024 against the new government’s steps toward liberalizing Poland’s strict law.
AP Photo/Czarek Sokolowski

At the same time, almost 70% of Poles say that God plays an important role in their life. Especially in smaller cities and rural areas, social and family activities tend to revolve around the church and religious holidays.

The Catholic Church’s close relationship with Polish national identity stems from the role it has played in the country’s history. Throughout the 19th century, when Polish lands were divided by its stronger neighbors, the Catholic faith allowed Poles to maintain their language and traditions. When Poland reemerged on the map after World War I, the church was the basis for unity as leaders struggled to create political, economic and social institutions.

During the communist period of 1947 to 1989, the church was a symbol of Polish independence in the face of Soviet attempts to impose atheist beliefs within its sphere of influence. Political analysts such as George Weigel maintain that the Catholic Church and Pope John Paul II, a native of Poland, were important to shaping anti-communist movements throughout the Soviet bloc.

Abortion rights activists react after Poland’s Parliament voted on April 12, 2024, to continue work on proposals to liberalize Poland’s strict abortion law.
AP Photo/Czarek Sokolowski

Splintered support

This landscape of views on abortion and faith and Poland’s unique history explains why political support for various proposals is so fragmented.

Two of the government’s coalition parties, the Civic Coalition and the Left, favor abortion without restrictions until 12 weeks. The Third Way, itself a coalition of center-right parties, prefers to simply restore the right to abortion in the case of birth defects.

Third Way politicians claim that this “compromise” legislation has the support of many groups and so is more likely to be approved. The group has also called for a national referendum about whether to further loosen abortion restrictions. This proposal reflects the Third Way’s main political goal: to distinguish itself as an alternative to polarization and deadlock.

Regardless of which proposal the Legislature supports, Duda may veto the legislation. Conservative legislators are also well positioned to delay any reforms. Recently, the leader of PiS indicated that he is now in favor of softening the near-ban on abortion, but only if there is a change in Poland’s constitution – a lengthy process that is unlikely to receive enough support.

Almost all European countries have legalized abortion, although some maintain medical or regulatory procedures such as short wait times or permission from a parent or guardian. If this trend is any indication, Poland will indeed liberalize its abortion laws – and given the country’s national health care system, procedures will likely be paid for by the state. It will take time, however, and the battles will continue to be hard-fought. More

The shooting of Robert Fico was ‘politically motivated,’ authorities say. More

The assassination attempt against Slovakian Prime Minister Robert Fico has been widely condemned by world leaders as an attack on democracy.

In Slovakia, the violent act similarly saw a unified response from the country’s deeply divided political leaders. But how long this lasts is uncertain. Just as outgoing Slovakian president – and Fico rival – Zuzana Caputova called for an end to the “vicious circle of hatred and mutual accusations,” Fico allies lambasted the country’s media and opposition for whipping up tensions.

As an expert on politics in central Europe, I have been interested in how liberal social movements in Slovakia have reacted to the rise of populist rhetoric and policy that Fico exemplified. This research has laid bare not only the increasing move to the right of once center and center-right politicians, but also how this has helped create a polarized political environment.

Who is Robert Fico?

Robert Fico has long been a controversial figure in Slovakia, a central Eastern European country of about 5.4 million people and a member of the European Union.

A former member of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, Fico and his colleagues founded the Party SMER, or “Direction,” in the late 1990s as a leftist party that was critical of Slovakia’s right-wing government at the time. The party also maintained an anti-corruption message and used this to gain popularity in the early 2000s, becoming one of the most dominant parties in Slovak politics.

Fico first became prime minister in 2006. But it is since returning to power in 2012 that he has been seen as a polarizing figure in Slovak politics.

In 2018, Fico was forced to resign following the murder of journalist Jan Kuciak and his fiancée, Martina Kusnirova, in their apartment just outside of Bratislava, Slovakia’s capital.

Prior to his murder, Kuciak alleged that SMER was engaged in corruption involving the Italian Mafia and the embezzlement of EU funds. In 2020, five people, one of whom had links to political figures, were charged with the murders.

Fico has denied these corruption charges. Yet the murders and accusations of corruption led to mass protests against the government and continue to resonate today.

Polarized politics

Despite Fico’s resignation over the issue, the country continued to be politically polarized.

In 2019, Čaputová of the party Progressive Slovakia was elected as the first female president. But a year later, Slovakia saw the election of the most conservative parliament in modern Slovak history.

This pitted Caputova’s liberal agenda against the right-wing parties in government.

Right-wing parties have allied with the Catholic Church and conservative organizations to attack gender equality measures and LGBTQ+ rights and place restrictions on reproductive rights.

The focus on culture war issues has been accompanied by a coarsening of the political debate in Slovakia.

Hateful rhetoric is commonly used in political campaigns to oppose women’s rights, gender equality and LGBTQ+ rights. This rhetoric has contributed to further polarization.

Security personnel apprehend a suspected gunman after the shooting of Robert Fico.
RTVS/AFP via Getty Images

And even before the attack on Fico, there was evidence that the heightened rhetoric was developing into politically motivated violence. In 2022, two members of the LGBTQ+ community were murdered at a bar in Bratislava by a known supporter of the far right.

Nevertheless, Fico continued to rely on populist rhetoric opposing civil liberties in his 2023 election campaign.

By then, he had returned to the spotlight by opposing public health measures related to the COVID-19 pandemic. This was followed by his widely publicized opposition to sending military aid to Ukraine after Russia’s 2022 invasion. At a time when some of Slovakia’s closest allies, such as Poland and Czechia, wholeheartedly supported Ukraine’s efforts against Russian aggression, Fico ran on a campaign of supporting Hungary’s Viktor Orban and Vladimir Putin’s politics against the West.

This messaging proved popular and allowed him to return to power in 2023, with his populist party winning 23% of the vote and becoming the largest party in a right-wing coalition government.

An attack on democracy

Since returning to power, Fico has shown no desire to dial down the culture wars that have split Slovakian society. Rather, his primary focus has been on abolishing and restructuring government agencies and entities that have been critical of his policies.

In February 2024, he moved to shut down Slovakia’s anti-corruption body and abolish the special prosecutor’s office that investigates corruption – a decision that not only drew rebuke from the European Union but also brought Slovaks back out into the streets in protest.

He has also made moves to shut down Slovak Television and Radio, or STVR, and replace it with a state-run TV channel.

Taken together, Fico’s efforts to curb civil liberties and repress opposition have been seen as part of a process to transform Slovakia into an illiberal democracy, much in the mold of Orban’s Hungary.

There is much yet to learn about the motivations and circumstances surrounding the assassination attempt on Fico. But officials have said that it was “politically motivated,” linking it to his divisive policies.

Any display of political violence is, as world leaders have noted, an attempt to undermine democracy. In Slovakia, where political polarization is high, these divisive politics have been shown to, unfortunately, lead to violent outcomes. More

Ad-hoc responses to the situation in Ukraine don’t amount to a coherent vision. More

Some believe that the war in Ukraine has fundamentally changed Europe, giving birth to a different kind of European order. That is, it appears to be driving structural shifts in the way Europe is run and organised that extend well beyond the immediate imperative of helping Ukraine fight the war. European integration is deepening in some areas, like defence and security, and the EU looks set to extend its geographical borders to take in new members.

Reflecting this, EU leaders, politicians and writers typically compare the 2022 invasion with the inflection points of 1945 and 1989. Each of these put in place new organisations and rules that redefined European cooperation, politics, economics and security. The end of the cold war in 1989 was a catalyst for deeper European integration and opened the way to bringing many eastern European states into the EU.

Yet, the current process of re-ordering remains tentative. The EU collectively, and European governments individually, have agreed a significant amount of policy adjustment. In particular, governments have increased defence spending and the EU has launched dozens of new security initiatives. How far this constitutes a shift in the European order remains uncertain, however.

Many of the policy changes underway might be judged as welcome, necessary, and overdue so that Europe can adapt judiciously to the strategic imperatives of a more corrosive and fractious era. But the changes so far have been ad-hoc and expedient, bereft of any clear framework for structuring a new, post-war European order. They do not, in themselves, constitute a coherent or deeply rooted vision for a stronger and strategically adept Europe. Yet, this is what’s needed to address the challenges that the tragedy in Ukraine will leave in its wake.

European leaders meet in Brussels.
EPA/Olivier Hoslet

Some changes do point towards possible shifts in the European order. European borders are being redrawn to bring in new member states. After years of keeping Ukraine, Modlova and Georgia outside, the EU has concluded that it is strategically important to begin accession talks with these states. The EU has strengthened its commitments to democratic norms as the Russian invasion has made the threat of authoritarian power more painfully tangible. It has also accelerated many aspects of its climate transition policies in response to the conflict, which has demonstrated the urgency of weaning Europe off strategically costly hydrocarbon dependencies.

Yet governments and EU institutions remain in short-term crisis mode. The flurry of EU policy change has yet to translate into a clear overarching strategy for a redesign of the European order. For now, the idea that the war has “changed everything” in Europe looks like an unwarranted exaggeration.

A ‘geoliberal’ Europe

Despite multiple reform proposals, the basic institutional shape of the EU remains untouched. Countries currently hoping to join the EU are being kept waiting in drawn out, technocratic processes despite the dangers they face from Russia.

Governments have bolted increased defence spending onto existing EU policies in response to the war without clarifying how these relate to the union’s supposed core liberal and peace-oriented principles. European leaders now ritually boast that the EU has become a toughened geopolitical power because of its response to Ukraine, but this does not seem to extend to having a position on engagements in places like the Sahel or the conflict in Gaza.

If anything, the war’s cruel continuation may actually be weakening the foundations and core principles of European order in some senses. It presents challenges of such immediacy that it has forced individual governments into defensive measures that reflect their own immediate, individual interests. But these potentially militate against coordination between nations.

For now, the EU appears stuck in an “in-between” period. Many of the union’s old organising principles, like the notion of its blurred internal borders, are no longer fit for purpose but governments lack the necessary political conviction to usher in a clearly defined new order.

EU leaders need to move towards what might be termed a geoliberal Europe. As mapped out in my new book, this would reflect geopolitical reality but also the liberal and democratic values that are supposed to define Europe and supposedly sit at the heart of the war’s rationale. This would take Europe out of crisis mode and enable it to map out a new, post-war approach to order. While this is lacking, the day-to-day debates about whether the EU is “doing enough” to help Ukraine will lack the necessary strategic orientation and anchoring. More

The French have an ambivalent relationship to the European Union, expressing a strong feeling of European belonging on the one hand, and Euroscepticism toward institutions on the other. More