Inaugural European Graduate Fellows Conference Journal 2020

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Issue No. 1 | Spring 2020

EUROPE IN FLUX Proceedings from the Inaugural European Studies Graduate Fellows Conference on December 6-7, 2019 Henry R. Luce Hall, Yale University Destinations Top destinations for camping

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Published by the European Studies Council at the Whitney & Betty MacMillan Center for International & Area Studies of Yale University European Studies Council Whitney & Betty MacMillan Center for International & Area Studies Yale University P.O. Box 208206 New Haven, CT 06520








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The inaugural European Studies Graduate Fellows conference brought together young scholars from across the globe to discuss some of the most pressing social, political, and cultural issues facing Europe today. Organized by a graduate student planning committee, the conference was hosted by the European Studies Council at the MacMillan Center at Yale University. The conference was titled "Europe in Flux" and it reflected many themes, which were covered through all of the presentations. Showcasing varied methodologies from economics, political science, environmental anthropology, cultural studies, and more, the panelists engaged in wide-ranging topics that spanned the European Union and neighboring Russia, as well as their relationships with strategic partners throughout the world. "This fascinating conference took an expansive view of the concept of 'Europe' and what it means to study it. It was exhilarating to watch young scholars from a wide variety of disciplines and institutional settings interact with one another's work with so much excitement and intellectual generosity,” noted Edyta Bojanowska, Professor of Slavic Languages and Literatures, and Chair of the European Studies Council at the MacMillan Center.

"We foster interdisciplinary collaborations, and I am proud that our launching of the European Studies Fellows network at Yale has strengthened a growing community of students and scholars throughout the university on European related issues."

This year marked the first anniversary since the launch of the European Studies Fellows network at Yale — an initiative that has supported a growing community of junior scholars throughout the university and is now comprised of over seventy students. While recent global events have undoubtedly disrupted the world as we know it, it is our hope that this recent conference will foster future interdisciplinary collaborations and joint research initiatives on contemporary Europe. We thank all presenters and members of the International Alliance for Research Universities for participating in this very special event.

– Edyta Bojanowska, Chair of the European Studies Council at the MacMillan Center

Ambassador Milica Pejanović-Djurišić speaks with conference participants at the reception after her keynote remarks.



PARTICIPANTS Joseph Cerrone Joseph Cerrone is a Ph.D. student in Political Science at George Washington University. In his research, he explores the nexus between identity,migration, and democracy in contemporary Europe. His current focus is on the role of elite rhetoric in influencing public perceptions of so-called"others," including migrants and ethnic minorities.

Calvin Chang Calvin Chang is a master's student in Yale Macmillan Center's European and Russian Studies program with a focus on the politics and international relations of Russia and the former Soviet states, as well as on developments in US-Russia relations.

Ivana Damjanovic Ivana Damjanovic commenced her PhD at the Centre for European Studies, Australian National University in March 2017. Her research is interdisciplinary, examining the role of the EU in the global reform of international investment governance anddispute settlement. Ivana has qualified as a lawyer in Australia and her native Croatia, and has expertise in international law and international relations. She holds multiple degrees and has won several prizes for her achievements as a law student in Australia. Currently she



holds an Australian Government Scholarship for her PhD research project. Ivana’s professional background encompasses nine years as a career diplomat for the Government of Croatia, with diplomatic postings in Europe and Australia, as well as research and policy roles for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where she participated in tasks related to Croatia’s accession to the EU. Ivana also works as an Assistant Lecturer in law at the University of Canberra and has taught law as a guest lecturer at universities in Asia (China, Bhutan) and Europe (Belgium, Croatia).

Rachel Farell Rachel is a fourth-year medical anthropology PhD student. She is interested in forced migration to Europe and the provision of mental healthcare services to migrant populations, especially in the Netherlands and France. Her dissertation research examines a Dutch-led pilot program of a new World Health Organization lowintensity psychological intervention for Syrian refugees in France and the Netherlands. Previous research includes fieldwork at an outpatient mental health clinic for migrants in Paris.

Rebecca Galpern Rebecca Galpern is a second-year MA student in Russian, Eurasian, and Eastern European Regional Studiesat Columbia University. Her research interests include environmental politics, European Union law, and past and present Eastern European borderlands. Most recently, she interned withan environmental NGO in Kyiv, Ukraine.Prior to her master’s, Rebecca worked at the Center for Jewish History in New York and Forum for Dialogue in Warsaw, Poland. She holds a BA in Jewish Cultural History from Macaulay Honors College at the City University of New York.



Noe Hinck Noe Hinck is the Oxford Kobe Scholar and isstudying towardsan M.Phil. in European Politics and Societyat the Department of Politics and International Relations, University of Oxford. Her research interests include E.U. foreign policy, diplomacy, and institutions. She also works as a research assistant for the E.U. Horizon 2020 Project SCHOOLPOL, compiling data on education in Japan. Before moving to Oxford, she double-majored in History and International Relations at Boston University, specialising in 19th and 20th century European social and political history. She received the Hermann Eilts Thesis Award for her honours thesis,“The Multicultural Test: German Identity Development Since 1945 in the Wake of the 2015 Syrian Refugee Crisis”, and has published an article“Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee: The Parade that Restored the British Monarchy” in the Columbia Journal of History.

Sarah Holzworth Sarah Holzworth received a MA in Russian and East European Studies from Yale University and is currently continuing her study of Russia and the post-Soviet states in the MA Anthropology program at Columbia University. Prior to this, she worked as an intelligence analyst for the U.S. Army. Her research concernsthe interaction between Russian foreign and domestic policy, ideological production and reproduction in post-Soviet societies,how global economic trends and political institutions affect local communities in those societies, and how modes of cultural production and memory mediate between the global, the state, and the local.



Maria Khan Maria Khan is a PhD student at Cambridge University. She is writing her doctorate in Performance Studies and Eighteenth century German literature. Maria received her first bachelor's in Economics from Kinnaird College for Women Lahore, Pakistan, where she is from. She received her second bachelor's degree in Humanities, the Arts and Social Thought from Bard College Berlin, Germany, specializing in Literary Theory and Politics and Ethics. Her MPhil in Cambridge was based at the Faculty of Education where she studied Arts Education researching the impact of museum-based education for the integration of Syrian and Iraqi refugees in Germany.Throughout her academic career, she has been the recipient of the Fulbright Scholarship, British Council Germany IELTS Award, Santander-Cambridge Trust Scholarship, and St. Edmund’sCollege Paul Luzio Scholarship. She is an actress and a theatre director and has performed at venues such as Shakespeare's Globe Theatre at the Globe to Globe Festival 2012.

Hansong Li Hansong Li is a political theorist with research interests in global intellectual history, now a PhD candidateat Harvard University (formerly at the University of Cambridge and University of Chicago). His works on the history of legal thought on the law of war and peace, customs and commerce in early-modern Europe have been published inHistory of European Ideas and Global Intellectual History. And his currently researchconcerns the reception and re-imagination of ancient laws, rhetoric and geography in the making of modern international relations.

Dante Matero Dante Matero is from Los Angeles and first began studying Russian during his BA at UCLA. After doing a Fulbright ETA Fellowship in Kaliningrad, he moved to New York to study at the Harriman Institute at Columbia. He is at work on an ethnographic PAGE 05


project documenting the asylum process for LGBT Russianspeakers in NYC fleeing domestic and state violence. "Russians in Los Angeles," a chapter of a forthcoming Routledge collection, Multilingual Los Angeles (2020), was co-authored with former professors Susan Kresin (UCLA) and Susie Bauckus (UCLA Russian Flagship).

Katherine McNally Katherine McNally is an environmental anthropologist and PhD student in the Department of Anthropology at Yale University. She has worked in fishing communities across the North Atlantic: on the coast of Maine, on the island of Grand Manan in the Canadian Maritimes, on the Shetland Islands in Scotland, and in the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador. During fieldwork, McNally works aboard fishing boats and interviews community members about the ways fishermen use marine resources to create meaningful lives and strong communities. She is especially interested in using art to communicate diverse local perspectives on resource use, urbanization, and climate change. Her current work focuses on both Shetland and Newfoundland, where she is researching the relationships between fishermen, scientists, and policy makers and talking to residents of rural towns about the different futures they imagine for their resourcedependent communities.

Ekaterina Mizrokhi Ekaterina Mizrokhi is a Cambridge Trust Scholar and a second year PhD Candidate in the Centre for Urban Conflict Research (UCR) at the Department of Architecture. Her doctoral research is focused on urban change and demolition in the five-storey Soviet housing districts of Moscow. She investigates the experience of everyday domestic and urban life on Moscow’s periphery, as well as the politics, aesthetics, materiality and spatiality of transition inthe post-Soviet era. The given case equally lends itself to investigations on the intersections of spatial, social and temporal marginalization rooted insuch districts. Before beginning her PhD, PAGE 06


Ekaterina completed an MPhil in Architecture and Urban Studies (Distinction) from the University of Cambridge. She also holds an Honours BA (High Distinction) with a major in Urban Studies and a double minor in Human Geography and Slavic Studies from the University of Toronto, Trinity College.

Valeriia Mutc Valeriia Mutc is a PhD candidate in the Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures at Yale University. Her research explores the intersections between Russian fin-de-siècle literature and theatre, with a particular focus on performance studies, theatre studies, and cultural histories of theatrical practice in Russia. In her dissertation, “The Dramatic Turn: Chekhov, Gorky, and Tolstoy at the End of the 19th Century,” she examines a turn of Russia’s famous prose writers to drama and applies transmedial narratology to analyse their prose writing alongside their plays, and to discuss its impact on questions of realism and modernism during that time.

Ryan Nabil Ryan Nabil is an M.A. student at the Yale Jackson Institute for Global Affairs, where he studies diplomacy, international security, and comparative law. Ryan’s current research interests include Chinese diplomacy in Europe, Russia-China relations, and Brexit trade negotiations. Prior to Yale, Ryan worked at the American Enterprise Institute (AEI), where he researched European and global macroeconomy, international trade, and agricultural policy issues. During Ryan’s tenure of three years at AEI, he published more than 40 articles in outlets including the Washington Post, U.S. News and World Report, and Foreign Affairs. Most recently, Ryan served as a Harold W. Rosenthal Fellow in U.S. Congress, where he worked on U.S. foreign policy toward China and Russia. He also served on the Washington, D.C. board of America’s Future Foundation, a non-profit organization dedicated to developing the next generation of conservative and liberty-minded leaders. Ryan PAGE 07


speaks English, French, German, and Bengali. Ryan was educated at Oxford University and Kenyon College, where he earned a B.A. in economics.

Anders Plambæk Anders Plambæk, Bachelor of Political Science at University of Copenhagen with exchange at Exeter University, UK. Post graduate student of International Relations, specializing in international political economy at University of Copenhagen with exchange at University of Tasmania, AUS. Background in trade and diplomacy with work experience in the Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs; The Danish Trade Council; internship at TheRoyal Danish Embassy in Korea.

Maria Snegovaya Maria Snegovaya (Ph.D., Columbia University) is a postdoctoral fellow at Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies and an Adjunct Fellow at Center for European Policy Analysis.She is a comparative politics, international relations, and statistical methods specialist. The key focus of her research is democratic backsliding and the spread of populist and radical right actors across Europe, as well as Russia’s domestic and foreignpolicy. Her research results and analysis have appeared in policy and peer-reviewed journals, including Problems of Post-Communism and the Journal of Democracy. Her articles and papers have been included as required reading for courses at Science-Po, Syracuse University, The University of California, Los Angeles, and Columbia University among others.



Jan Zdrรกlek Jan Zdrรกlek is a graduate student of International Economics and European and Eurasian Studies at the School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS), Johns Hopkins University. His work focuses on Central and Eastern Europe, both inside and just outside of the European Union. He has completed his BA and MA at the Charles University in Prague, which is his favorite city.



Keynote Address "Contemporary Security Challenges for Europe"

Ambassador Milica Pejanović-Đjurišić Permanent Representative of Montenegro to the United Nations

Born on April 27, 1959. in Niksić, Montenegro. After graduating from the Faculty of Electrical Engineering in Podgorica, she received first the MSc degree and then in 1987 PhD in Telecommunications at the Faculty of Electrical Engineering in Belgrade. Since October 1982, she has been engaged at the Faculty of Electrical Engineering, University of Montenegro, where she got the title of a full professor in the field of Telecommunications in December 1998. She also performed the duty of the Vice-Dean and the President of the Council at the Faculty of Electrical Engineering. Founder and director of the Research Centre for ICT, Prof. Dr. Pejanović-Đurišić has been cooperating with numerous foreign universities and research centers as a visiting researcher and lecturer. In her research work she is focused on the area of wireless communications, where she has achieved notable results that were published in several hundred scientific papers in international journals and international conferences, in scientific and professional papers in domestic journals and conferences, as well as in a numer of books. She is a member of the professional associations of IEEE, IEICE, the Telecommunications Society of Serbia and Montenegro. Professional engagement of prof. Pejanović also includes expert activities in the field of new generations wireless systems and implementation of Internet technologies, within the ITU (International Telecommunication Union), the UN organization in Geneva. She gained significant experience also while worked as a consultant for industrial companies in the field of mobile communications, as evaluator of FP6, FP7 and HORIZON2020 projects of the European Commission and a member of global professional associations and initiatives in the field of ICT. She also served as President of the Managing Board of Telekom of Montenegro (1999-2002), as well as the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the first Montenegrin Internet Provider. PAGE 10


Presentations I. Defining Culture in Eastern Europe: Production and Destruction in Putin’s Russia Chair: Ana Berdinskikh, Yale University Presenters: Dante Matero (Columbia University), Ekaterina Mizrokhi (University of Cambridge), Valeriia Mutc (Yale University) Discussant: Edyta Bojanowska, Yale University

Weaponization of Identity: The effect of Soviet-era legal, political, and social structures on the Russian lesbian, gay, and bisexual (LGB) community’s cultural production (Abstract) Dante Matero

The fate of Russia’s LGB1 community is currently at the forefront of our global imagination, and this has prompted many commentators to point the finger of blame, or bellow their praise, at actors who have only been on the politicalstage for a decade or two. Such shortsightedness fails to recognize the behemoth ofthe shifting Soviet legal code and its implication in modern LGB cultural history and production. Throughout the years, the Russian LGB community has developed various forms of armor—from political and nonprofit organizationsto countless works of literature and film—to protect their right to form their own historical narratives. In order to pinpoint the ways in which the Russian LGB community’s Soviet past has shaped theirpresent societal positionand cultural production, I will: first, present a historical account of the group’s treatment in the pre-Soviet and Soviet regimes; then, I discuss prominent artists’ workin the framework of the Kremlin’s current legal and political rhetoric; finally, I connect the dots between Soviet and Russian LGB art, interrogating these legacies through queer and imperialist theory.

Aesthetic Regimes of Destruction and Reconstruction: The UnreconciledHistories Behind Moscow’s Urban Façade (Abstract) Ekaterina Mizrokhi

Examining cultural production as a reflection of the current realitiesand future ambitions in Putin’s Russia today would be incomplete withoutan analysis of arguably the most visible and directly-influential form of cultural production: the destruction, devaluation and reconstructionof a city’s architectural landscape. This paper positions the recent,contentious mass demolition campaign of the post-war, five-storey standardized PAGE 11


housing blocks in Moscow as an integral element of contemporary Russia’s aesthetic regime in Moscow. From ethnographic interviews in Moscow’s Northern Izmailovo district, this paper will argue that the Moscow municipality’s aesthetic regime — from the demolition of supposedly unsightly buildings to persistent urban beautification campaigns — aims at sanitizing urban spaces of inconvenient and difficult traces of both the Soviet past and of the post-Soviet 1990s - a period of all-pervasive crisis, strife and disorder. The current aesthetic order that is being staged, performed and inaugurated culturally, is one that only selectively engages with Russia’s difficult pasts. Rather, it performs the role of a contemporary, “European,” world-class city, through the window dressings of its capital. The urban landscape, in particular that of a capital as influential as Moscow, is quite literally the stage upon which all other cultural productions are interlaced and projected. And it is this stage that currently finds itself on the crux of substantial and unreflexivere development. This paper, therefore, will largely question how such urban aesthetic regimes reflect or neglect treatments of the past,contentious histories and unreconciled traumas, and pose further questions on the cultural consequences and reverberations that we may expect in return.

Reconstructing Russian Theatre in Yurii Butusov's The Seagull (Abstract) Valeriia Mutc

This paper analyses a famous production of Anton Chekhov's The Seagull (1895) at Satirikon theatre in Moscow. The play, produced by an acclaimed director Yurii Butusov in 2011, lasts for more than four hours and presents an unorthodox way of approaching Chekhov's text. The Seagullis transformed into an explosive comedy with unexpected fits of hysteria, passionate love-making, and careless dancing. The characters are emotionally disconnected from the action, resulting in an underwhelming ending, in which the text on stage fails to be representational. The spectator, however, is expected to have a strong emotional response upon seeing a careful reorganisation of the traditional staging. I argue that by juxtaposing the action and the spectator, the production is drawing on previously overlooked aspects of Chekhov's play and serves as a metacommentary on performative conditions of contemporary Russian theatre. In reexamining the play's genre –a comedy – and driving it to its grotesque extremes, Butusov offers a new model of Russian theatre in the 21st century. This theatre no longer ends with the foot lights, subverting traditional relationships with the audience and blending into the reality of the disconnected world beyond its walls.



II. Environmental Transitions in Europe & Russia: Public Discourse, Social Movements, and Policies Chair: Elena Adasheva-Klein, Yale University Presenters: Rebecca Galpern (Columbia University), Katherine McNally (Yale University), Anders Plambæk (University of Copenhagen), Jan Zdralek (Johns Hopkins University SAIS) Discussant: Edward Snajdr, Associate Professor, John Jay College, CUNY

A Soviet legacy in mid-2000s Poland? Tracing the Response to Poland’s Implementation of Natura 2000 Rebecca Galpern

The environmental legacy of communism and the Soviet Union is the exploitation of natural resources to meet planned economic output (Kluvánková-Oravská and Chobotová, 2010; and Sobolewski and Taylor, 1999). Although directives such as conservation and protecting designated areas were seen as “promoting general social good” in socialist ideology, they nevertheless took a backseat to meeting production output (Hicks 1996). This attitude, and the laws that enshrined it, were present in the Polish People’s Republic just as they were across the sphere of Soviet influence. Looking at this region as a whole, the connection between the degradation of the environment under communism and the environmental policies enacted after these states’ transition to capitalism is undeniable. Yet a closer historical and cultural examination of Polish environmental policy reveals many other factors at play. This paper will focus on the years 2004-2010 and will examine the contemporary attitudes toward environmental conservation which Poland adopted to join the EU. Of particular importance is the Natura 2000 network, which claims to be the “largest coordinated network of protected areas in the world” ( nature/natura2000/). Natura 2000 was founded in 1992 and established a network of protected areas in EU countries. The sites are identified by the Habitats Directive, established at the same time, and the earlier Birds Directive (adopted in 1979). Both directives protect special areas from certain kinds of human activity. Controversy ensued when experts and NGOs deemed Poland’s proposed list of protected areas incomplete, and subsequently pushed for the publication of a “shadow list” of areas that deserve protection (Logmani et al 2016). This “shadow list” was submitted to the EU in 2004 shortly after Poland’s official report. The row over Natura 2000 epitomizes mid-late 2000s Polish environmental policy and the attitudes surrounding it. These actions and attitudes, which PAGE 13


can be traced back to interwar, communist, and shock therapy era Poland, are characterized by top-down enforcement, frustration over lack of public knowledge and participation, and mistrust in the government. This paper will analyze the Polish response to Natura 2000 conservation policy in the context of three prior eras of Polish history: the interwar period (Second Polish Republic), the communist period (Polish People’s Republic), and the years of shock therapy. Starting chronologically with the experimental democracy of the Second Republic, and culminating with the free market reforms of the 90s, this paper will apply theories of legacy to measure the validity of arguments regarding the different eras and their influence on mid-late 2000s Polish views on environmental conservation policy. Environmental protection in interwar Poland started with establishing a permanent administrative body in 1935, the State Council for the Protection of Nature. The council wascreated along with another body to oversee its appointments, called Committees for the Protection of Nature (Hicks 1996). Then came the founding of the civil society organization League for the Protection of Nature in 1928. Up until the outbreak of World War II, when it suspended all activity, the League oversaw a roster ofidealistic objectives. This list included protecting certain plants, animals, and vulnerable areas; promoting a national parks system; and building support for their movement through a network of activists and fundraisers (Hicks 1996). The government soon followed, passing a 1932 law on the protection of endangered animals. In 1934, the government went a step further, passing the Law on Nature Protection. This law designated areas for protection, delineated the rights of landowners and the responsibilities of government, set up an administrative decisionmaking structure, and formed the legal groundwork of a nascent parks system (Hicks 1996). Yet despite these advancements in law, culture lagged behind. The League was unable to engender any major shift in thinking, particularly regarding the prioritization of property rights, which were “firmly entrenched in both government and society” (Hicks 1996). The government, too, failed at its slated goal of nature protection. The network of councils, committees, and ministers it created frequently ignored each other’s advice, and had no reason to abide by the requests of the Council for the Protection of Nature, since its role was only advisory (Hicks 1996). This led to a byzantine form of decision making, where it was unclear who had authority to do what. Decisions, when they were finalized, always came down on the side of private property and economic advancement over the protection of the environment. One such case is in the opening of the Tatra Mountains to tourists in 1936, which the State Council for the Protection of Nature recommended against. The government went through with the project anyway, causing the entire State Council for the Protection of Nature to resign (Hicks 1996). The laws, administrative bodies, and cultural groups that emerged in the interwar period were characterized by a failure to meet their stated goals, by an opaque system that was impervious to outside suggestions, and by a network of people that failed to spread its message beyond its own group. Before turning to environmental policy in the Polish People’s Republic, it is important to take stock of why Poland’s years of communism are critical to understanding its political PAGE 14


attitudes in the mid-late 2000s. As Grigore Pop-Eleches and Joshua A. Tucker (2017) argue in their book Communism's Shadow: Historical Legacies and Contemporary Political Attitudes, this connection is not as obvious as it may seem. This rings particularly true in regards to Poland, whose forced acceptance of communism was allegedly referred to by Stalin to be like putting a saddle on a cow. Pop-Eleches and Tucker study the effects of living through communism on citizens living in post-communist countries’ attitudes regarding support for democracy, support for free markets, support for a strong welfare state, and support for gender equality. They identify these four factors as the most central to communist ideology. While attitudes toward environmental policy are left out, Pop-Eleches and Tucker nonetheless prove that experiences from the communist era can still effect attitudes in the mid-2000s, as they show that certain attitudes persist despite variations in transition, culture, time exposure to communism, and other factors (2017). This finding is especially pertinent to environmental policy in communist-era Poland, as it lends credence to the prevailing theory that the policies under state socialism influenced the policies of the mid-2000s. Protection of the environment during the years of state socialism in Poland was, as previously stated, secondary to the need to meet planned economic output. It was such an afterthought that much of the interwar environmental protection policy remained in place, and was simply built upon when needed (Hicks 1996). Even the League for the Protection of Nature reconfigured itself and was permitted to exist as an independent group in the socialist system. Thus, much of communist environmental policy itself was a legacy of interwar legislation. Subsequent laws in the 40s, 60s, and 70s oversaw the reshuffling of duties to different ministries, but managed to maintain the status quo of protection on paper but degradation in practice. One example is the Ministry of Territorial Economy and Environmental Protection, which was created in 1972 with the authority to oversee both construction plans and ecological conservation – an obvious contradiction of duty which invariably led to siding on behalf of industry over nature (Hicks 1996). Much responsibility was placed at the voivodship level, but conflicts of interest between voivodship and national levels permeated each ministry, preventing any real environmental protection to take place (Jendrośka 1998). At the same time, the Polish People’s Republic formed an extensive national park system, totaling 126,574 hectares by the end of the communist era (Hicks 1996). For those who owned land (as a small amount were permitted) on what became national parks, their land was either taken or bought at “outlandishly low prices” (Cent and Grodzinska-Jurczak, 2010). By the end of the 70s Poland had become one of the most polluted countries in the communist sphere, so much so that it began to preclude industry exploitation, as rivers and lakes became unusable in production (Clark and Cole 1998). Only by the 80s was more attention paid to how damaging the environment circled back to harm human health. Thus the State Council for Environmental Protection was created and imbued with broad authority to investigate many aspects of environmental happenings, particularly those that effected humans, such as pollution prevention (Hicks 1996). This turn toward environmental protection that focused on the health of humans was buoyed by the rise of the Solidarity movement. This trend would be halted with Poland’s ascent into free market capitalism and requisite shock therapy. PAGE 15


The earliest seeds of Poland’s post-communist environmental policy were formed at the Ecology Subgroup at the Round Table talks, the negotiations which ended communism in Poland in 1989. The Ecology Subgroup created the Environmental Law Reform Task Force, which in turn put forth a list of recommendations for environmental law (Jendrośka 1998). When the government instated shock therapy (the reform of Poland’s economy, characterized by the gutting of state subsidiaries and spending and the freezing of wage increases) in 1990, many feared they would reversed nascent environmental protection laws or even backtrack on inherited laws from the communist period (Porter-Szucs 2014). This perspective saw the tenets of shock therapy mimicking the socialist ones, relegating environmental protection to the bottom of the totem pole when it came to priorities. But instead of meeting economic goals, in the 90s, the goal was now liberalizing the market and privatizing property. Domestic and international observers feared that the transition to a market economy not only shunned environmental issues as a lesser priority, but in fact placed them in direct conflict with the economic goals of the transition (Clark and Cole 1998). Despite these fears, the transition did not portend any particular fate for Polish environmental policy. The “shock” part of the therapy meant that many things were put on hold. Whether it was the output of heavily-polluting industries, or closing factories, actions that had both positive and negative effects on the environment stopped due to economic pressure (Jasinski 1999). On top of that, Poland—now in its Third Republic—still carried the same policy burdens it had through the interwar and communist years: coordinating between levels of government, enforcing environmental law, and increasing public participation in the law-making process (Jendrośka 1998). Whether or not the interwar, communist, and post-communist Polish experiences with environmental protection laws has had an effect on attitudes toward the Natura 2000 initiative has been mostly unaddressed by scholars interested in environmental policy in the region aside from the casual linkage of communist degradation of nature with EU accessionera attitudes toward conservation. Scholars have identified several reasons for Poland’s challenge in implementing Natura 2000. One common reason is the “institutional mismatch” between what Natura 2000 practically requires and what Poland had at the time of accession (Kluvánková-Oravská, and Chobotová, 2010). Others cite the tradition of topdown economic planning that forbade public knowledge or participation (Niedziałkowski, Paavola, and Jędrzejewska 2012). Weak protection of private property, and the public suspicion of the government that comes with it, has also been identified as a major factor in Poland’s response (Cent and Grodzinska-Jurczak, 2010). Regardless of the cause, such studies agree that Natura 2000 ran into myriad problems in Poland, from designating sites for conservation, to implementing legal protections, to public opinion on the usefulness of the program itself. This scholarship, though insightful, only scratches the surface of where these attitudes originate. Integrating theories of legacies help illuminate which practices and attitudes can be traced to the past, which to the more recent past, and which can be traced to our own misreading of the region. One common analysis of Natura 2000’s difficulty in Poland attributes the problems to institutional failure. When Natura 2000 was implemented in Poland, it was believed that PAGE 16


administrative bodies designating land for conservation would fill a blank space in government. However, conservation groups existed since Poland’s early interwar years. Those institutions were themselves refashioned in the communist era, which saw the development of “piecemeal adjustments to historically rooted institutions” rather than destroying or replacing earlier institutions (Hicks 1996). Thus in 2004, during EU accession and Natura 2000 implementation, there was no “institutional free space” (KluvánkováOravská et al, 2009), and 50-year-old administrative bodies had to reformulate in the image requested by the EU. This created an “inefficient institutional design” (Kluvánková-Oravská et al, 2009) that created unnecessary controversy by failing to designate an adequate amount of area for protection. Such institutional failure fits into what Stephen Kotkin and Mark R. Beissinger call a bricolage legacy relationship (2014). Through bricolage, “elements of the past become thoroughly intermixed and interpenetrated with the present, creating something completely new that only vaguely resembles the old, but that still profoundly bears its imprint” (Kotkin and Beissinger, 2014). Indeed, Poland’s designation of areas for protection under Natura 2000 bore the imprint of early iterations of Polish environmental policy, with added the elements of EU encouragement, direction, and funding. Such combination is necessary and perhaps inevitable during a quick transition and especially in a policy area that is not prioritized. Yet this combination created a body unable or unwilling to produce an accurate list of sites deserving conservation, as was evident in the “shadow list” controversy. The reconfiguration of prior administrative bodies into new ones is itself a legacy within Poland, as happened with the League for the Protection of Nature, which experienced bricolage between the interwar and communist periods. The Leaguetransformed from an advocacy organization that put pressure on the government to one that promoted environmental protection while integrating into the communist government as an “officially sanctioned and controlled ‘social organization’” (Hicks 1996). Given the high level of shared and inherited laws between interwar, communist, and postcommunist Poland, there are many examples of bricolage legacies to be found. Another issue identified is lack of participation, access, and understanding. These factors form what Kotkin and Beissinger call a parameter setting legacy relationship. Parameter setting is an inherited realm of possibilities, shaped by the contours of the previous system (2014). In this case, both the government and the public suffer from the limits this legacy imposes. The government, which approved environmental policy created by elites and specialists in the interwar period, does not imagine that input from the public might be useful in the policy-making process. Meanwhile, the population does not believe their concerns will be addressed. Even if they are, they may be eclipsed by a greater purpose, such as production output under communism or market reform during the transition. Parameter setting is a reflection of “sticky” cultural practices (Kotkin and Beissinger 2014), i.e. ones that persist despite a major change in the government system. Top- down control and secrecy surrounding environmental policy in Poland are some of these sticky practices. While democratization gave many access and input to the formerly closed-door, top-down style of policy-making, policies surrounding preserving the environment resisted this liberalization (Niedziałkowski et al., 2012). The fact that the Polish government produced what many saw as an incomplete list of sites for protection also echoes the subjectivity of PAGE 17


the planned economy, with major decisions limited to the upper echelons of the party. Additionally, knowledge about environmental preservation and the maintenance of biodiversity is low in Poland, leading the majority of people to be “much more interested in profit, survival and improvement of their living standard than in nature protection” (Křenová and Kindlmann, 2015). This is another sticky cultural belief, one that can be traced back to at least the shock therapy years that promoted economic gain over environmental protection and perhaps even earlier. The last prevailing attitude toward environmental protection in Poland in the mid-late 2000s is one of suspicion. Poland never properly compensated landowners who lost their land to the national park system created under communism. Thus, when the government implemented Natura 2000, the policy was met with “much anxiety, often taking the form of strong opposition from stakeholders, especially local authorities” (Cent et al., 2013). They feared that by designating land for protection, the government would restrict local development (Cent et al, 2013). This outlook illustrates a third type of legacy, which is a cultural schemata legacy. Cultural schemata are “embedded ways of thinking and behaving” that are formed during a certain era, and are reproduced through generations so that they outlive the former era or system (Kotkin and Beissinger, 2014). Cultural schemata legacies were evident across various stakeholders in Natura 2000 implementation: those who wanted to build property on their land, sell their land, or rebrand their land as a tourist destination were all skeptical of the policy ( Cent and Grodzinska-Jurczak, 2010). Each of these categories of stakeholders bear the mark of attitudes formed under communism. The suspicion of government directives regarding land protection is “embedded” enough to exist past the fall of communism and well into the transition to a market economy and democracy. Taken together, these three legacies—weak institutions for environmental protection, top-down environmental policy, and suspicion regarding conservation—show that Poland’s reaction to Natura 2000 cannot be exclusively traced back to its communistera behavior. The axiom of Soviet environmental degradation, as it exists as a legacy in Poland, exists as one cause among many for the government’s mishaps surrounding implementation of EU environmental policy. Analyzing the causes for mid-2000s Polish environmental policy requires a broader examination of Polish cultural and political history, not just as it relates to the post-communist region of Eastern Europe and Asia. Theories of legacy types (particularly bricolage, parameter setting, and cultural schemata) reveal how interconnected various historical eras of Poland are, and how difficult it is to disentangle the institutions, attitudes, and fears that they produced. Ultimately, a historical and cultural approach to analyzing Poland’s response to Natura 2000 implementation reveals a soviet legacy of fear of landgrabbing among the particularly Polish ones of inherited institutions and top-down environmental policy.




Beissinger, Mark, and Kotkin, Stephen. “Historical Legacies of Communism: An Empircal Agenda” (Ch. 1). In Beissinger and Kotkin, eds. Historical Legacies of Communism in Russia and Eastern Europe. New York: Cambridge University Press, pp. 1-27. Cent, Joanna, et al. “Emerging Multilevel Environmental Governance – A Case of Public Participation in Poland.”Journal for Nature Conservation, vol. 22, no. 2, 2014, pp. 93–102., doi:10.1016/j.jnc.2013.09.005. Cent, Joanna, and Grodzinska-Jurczak, Malgorzata. “Expansion of Nature Conservation Areas: Problems with Natura 2000 Implementation in Poland?” Environmental Management, vol. 47, no. 1, 2010, pp. 11–27., doi:10.1007/s00267-010-9583-2. Clark, John and Cole, Daniel H.“Poland’s Environmental Transformation: An Introduction.” Environmental Protection in Transition Economic, Legal and Socio-Political Perspectives on Poland, ed. John Clark and Daniel H. Cole, Ashgate, 1998. Hicks, Barbara E. Environmental Politics in Poland: a Social Movement between Regime and Opposition. Columbia University Press, 1996. Jasinski, Piotr. “Environmental Liabilities in the Polish Privitisation Process.” Environmental Regulation in Transforming Economies: the Case of Poland, ed. Piotr Jasinski and Helen Lawton Smith, ROUTLEDGE, 1999, pp. 130–154. Jendrośka, Jerzy. “Environmental Law in Poland, 1989-1996: An Assessment of Past Reforms and Future Prospects.” Environmental Protection in Transition Economic, Legal and SocioPolitical Perspectives on Poland, ed. John Clark and Daniel H. Cole, Ashgate, 1998, pp 81115. Kluvánková-Oravská, Tatiana , and Chobotová, Veronika. "The Emergence of Multilevel Governance. The Case of the Biodiversity in the Enlarged European Union". Ekonomický časopis 04:407-422. 2010. Křenová, Zdenka, and Pavel Kindlmann. “Natura 2000 – Solution for Eastern Europe or Just a Good Start? The Šumava National Park as a Test Case.” Biological Conservation, vol. 186, 2015, pp. 268–275., doi:10.1016/j.biocon.2015.03.028. Logmani, Jacqueline, et al. “Customizing Elements of the International Forest Regime Complex in Poland? Non-Implementation of a National Forest Programme and Redefined Transposition of NATURA 2000 in Bialowieza Forest.” Forest Policy and Economics, vol. 74, 2017, pp. 81–90., doi:10.1016/j.forpol.2016.11.004. “Natura 2000.”European Commission, European Union, PAGE 19


Niedziałkowski, Krzysztof, et al. “Governance of Biodiversity in Poland before and after the Accession to the EU: the Tale of Two Roads.” Environmental Conservation, vol. 40, no. 02, 2012, pp. 108–118., doi:10.1017/s0376892912000288. Pop-Eleches, Grigore, and Tucker, Joshua, Communism’s Shadow: Historical Legacies and Contemporary Political Attitudes. Princeton University Press: 2017. Porter-Szucs, Brian.Poland in the Modern World: beyond Martyrdom. Wiley-Blackwell, 2014. Sobolewski, Miroslaw, and Taylor, Ewa. “The Organisational Structure of Environmental Protection in Poland.” Environmental Regulation in Transforming Economies: the Case of Poland, ed. Piotr Jasinski and Helen Lawton Smith, ROUTLEDGE, 1999, pp. 33–90.

This Boat is a Machine; This Boat is my Family Katherine McNallly A note on interview transcripts: The italicized sections of the interviews I share in this piece reflect the paraphrased words of my interlocutors. Rather than putting these sections under quotation marks, I use italics because my interlocutors were speaking a mixture of English and Shetland dialect.

Introduction The European Union’s Common Fisheries Policy(CFP)has three goals: establish and maintain sustainable fishing practices within European waters, support the economic needs of European fishing communities, and reflect the political goals of the broader European project. These goals clash when the European pillars of free movement and evenly applied policy inhibit the production of locally necessary forms of fisheries and ecosystem management. Because of this mismatch between EU goals and local needs, the CFP is often subject to criticism from fishermen, politicians, and environmentalists alike. In many such arguments, each of these players get stereotyped into set pieces of their presumed interests: fishermen want control over their local waters and are angry that far-afield Brussels’s bureaucrats are using fish stocks to enact political agendas; politicians want politically cohesive policy measures that support fishing communities and protect fish stocks; and environmentalists want to protect the fish and think the CFP is too lenient (Gray 1998). Local histories and personal biographies are often missing from these complex policy discussions. This paper is about how individuals in Shetland Island fishing communities experienced a 1990s CFP initiative, and the ways in which the goals of that initiative clashed with meaningful local histories. In the late 20th century, whitefish stocks began to collapse around the Shetland Islands in northern Scotland. In an effort to preserve whitefish in the North Sea and the northeast Atlantic, the European Council instituted a series of fishing fleet PAGE 20


structural adjustment programs in 1992. Through these programs, the European Union provided funds to Atlantic-facing member states to reduce the size of their fishing fleets by paying fishermen to decommission their fishing boats. By examining both government documents outlining the logic of the fleet structural adjustment programs and accounts from Shetland fishermen who experienced decommissioning, I show that the state (defined as the combined governing force of the UK and the EU) and the Shetland fishermen I interviewed had different understandings of decommissioning as an event. For the state, decommissioning was a marginally successful attemptat reducing fishing effort. For the Shetland fishermen I interviewed, decommissioning was a traumatic event in an economically precarious time. I argue that disjuncture hinged critically on different understandings of what a boat “is” and what a boat “means.” Brexit is the contemporary frame in which Shetland fishermen shared this story with me during the summers of 2016 and 2019. When on June 23rd, 2016, the UK asked the British people whether it wanted to stay in Europe or leave, many fishermen in Shetland voted to leave. The Shetland Islands, and Scotland as a whole, voted to firmly remain within the European Union.But 81% of the voters on the Shetland island fishing community of Whalsay voted to leave (McCall 2017), the highest community percentage identified in Scotland todate (Geoghegan 2017). I was on Whalsay in 2016, the week before the referendum. Right before I boarded the ferry to leave, a fisherman handed me a stack of pro-Brexit flyers depicting a photograph of the 1990s boat decommissioning as propaganda.

This pro-Brexit flyer illustrates that decommissioning has reverberating effects into the PAGE 21


present. This image that became iconic, that circulated successfully in Shetland as a representation of the mismatch between CFP goals and local ways of life, depicted the decommissioning of fishing boats. The fact that a photograph of a marine scrap yard became politically charged in debates about whether to leave the European Union illustrates the importance of being attentive to the personal experiences of the individuals who are experiencing large-scale policies. It would be impossiblet o understand Whalsay’s Brexit vote without knowing the history behind this photograph. A Brief Environmental History At its latitude of sixty degrees north, just six degrees south of the Arctic Circle, the Shetland archipelago of Scotland sits at the confluence of the North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. The Shetland Islands are peaks in a series of seamounts,called the Iceland-FaroeScotland ridge, which spans the eastern side of the North Atlantic. The channel between the Faroe Islands andthe Shetland Islands provides an Arctic-Atlantic migration pathway for marine species, making the fisheries between the Faroe Islands and the Shetland Islands some of the most productive in the world. As a direct result of the nutrient flows enabled by this geology, coupled with warming seas pushing marine populations north, more fish are landed in Shetland than anywhere else in the United Kingdom (UK) (Napier 2015). The second half of the 20th century was a period of dramatic change in Shetland’s economy and way of life. In the 1970s, oil was discovered in the North Sea, many outerisland communities were connected to the mainland by bridges, a car and a television both became mainstays of Shetland households (Byron 1986). During this time of shifting industry and connection, the UK joined the European Economic Community (EEC). In 1973,UK waters became subject to EEC fisheries regulations.1 Just as workers from EEC member states were allowed to move freely within the EEC, so too were ships from EEC member states allowed to fish within the territorial waters of all other members. From 1973 onwards, large boats from throughout the EEC began fishing within the territorial waters of the UK. In 1983 the European Council established the European Common Fisheries Policy.The Common Fisheries Policy introduced the first major Europe-wide fisheries conservation measures: Total Allowable Catch and the quota system. Under the Common Fisheries Policy, annual scientific stock assessments determine the Total Allowable Catch for each region.Each member state is allocated a fixed percentage of that Total Allowable Catch based on that state’s historic fishing patterns.2 Individual fishermen and producers organizations are then responsible for buying portions of their member state’s allocated catch percentage (Gray 1998). 1 Between 1957 and 1983 fisheries were part of the EU Common Agricultural Policy, established as part of the Treaty of Rome. 2 This is known as the Principle of Relative Stability. PAGE 22


The Common Fisheries Policy’s quota system constrained the freedom of fishing activities and created novel kinds of economic stress in Shetland (Goodlad 1998, 147). With the new quota system and increased competition from EU boats, Shetland whitefish fishermen struggled to keep pace with the foreign vessels. Some Shetland fishermen started landing fish illegally to support themselves; some left the fishery entirely. Increased competition between fishing boats, coupled with quickly advancing fish finding and catching technology, also created novel kinds of environmental stress. Just as the Maastricht Treaty was transforming the EECinto the European Union at the end of the 20th century, fish stocks were collapsing across the North Atlantic. As the UK House of Lords Select Committee on Science and Technology observed, “At the beginning of the 1990s, about 69 per cent of the world's conventional [marine] species were fully exploited, over exploited, depleted, or in the process of rebuilding as a result of depletion” (House of Lords 1996 as cited by Gray 1998).In 1989, Norway called a moratorium on capelin. In 1992, Canada declared a moratorium on cod fishing off the coast of Newfoundland. In the same year, the whitefish fishery around Shetland began to decline(Napier 2018). In an attempt to promote the longevity of remaining fish populations,the European Council instituted a series of fishing fleet structural adjustment programs between 1992 and 1996.3 Through the EU fleet structural adjustment programs, policy makers intended to preserve fish stocks by reducing the number of EU boats fishing in the North Sea and Northeast Atlantic. (Surís-Regueiro et al. 2011). In similar fashion to government programs that pay farmers not to farm, the European Council made EU funds available to help Atlanticfacing member states pay fishermen to decommission their boats. “Decommissioning” is a rather euphemistic term, which refers to the process of breaking up fishing boats for scrap.The European Council also made EU funds available to help participating member states subsequently begin to build more modern fleets that were smaller in number. These smaller modern fleets would ideally be more fuel efficient, put less pressure on the marine ecosystem, and be easier for fisheries regulators to police. The UK accepted the EU funding and complied with the fleet structural adjustment programs. By 2002, forty percent of the whitefish fishermen in Shetland had decommissioned their boats (Dr. Ian Napier, personal communication). By 2012, whitefish started returning to Shetland waters (Napier 2018). In the decade between decommissioning and the return of whitefish a rift grew and deepened between Shetland fishermen and fisheries regulators (Crean 1998). The mutual distrust of fishermen and managers that emerged as a result of both the lack of fish and the continuation of illegal fishing by the fishermen who remained created a crisis of legitimacy for the Common Fisheries Policy: fishermen didn’t trust fisheries managers to have their best interests in mind, and fisheries managers assumed that fishermen would find ways around 3 The EU fleet structural adjustment programs were also called the EU Multi-Annual Guidance Programmes. PAGE 23


any policy they set (Cann 1998). The Common Fisheries Policy was reformed in 2013, but it did not contain the sweeping (and often opposing) amendments that either Shetland fishermen or fisheries managers had advocated. When on June 23rd, 2016, the UK asked the British people whether it wanted to stay in Europe or leave, many fishermen in Shetland voted to leave. Fishing and Politics How do we get from fisheries policy to Brexit? Many authors have argued that fisheries management is inherently political because the movement of fish stocks transcends national boundaries, because fishermen’s incomes rely on the freedom to follow and catch fish, and because the availability of the resource that fishermen are pursuing is increasingly scarce (Gray 1998). Under these assumptions, it is possible to propose potential reasons for why many Shetland fishermen likely oppose the EU Common Fisheries Policy: fishing within confined sectors is restrictive when a school of fish might be congregating just over the sector limit;the current EU system of allocating precise amounts of single-species quota does not match the relatively imprecise way that fishermen catch varying amounts of multiple species within a single net;and EU scientists are not suitably attentive fishermen’s knowledge about local ecosystems when carrying out stock assessments (Gray 1998). Crucially, though, rational policy concerns such as these were not the only avenue through which the Shetland fishermen I interviewed between 2016 and 2019 communicated their political considerations or personal reasons for voting for Brexit. To be sure, interviewees discussed each of above arguments against the Common Fisheries Policy and shared varying opinions about how or whether the policy should change. However, many of the fishermen I interviewed talked about Brexit by talking about their fishing boats. They described their discontent with the state by describing the decommissioning of Shetland fishing boats that accompanied the 1990s whitefish crisis. State policy makers and Shetland fishermen understood the decommissioning of fishing boats in different terms. For policy makers, the 1990s structural adjustment programs were an attempt at reducing fishing effort through decommissioning fishing boats, a process for which fishermen were fairly compensated financially. For Shetland fishermen I interviewed, however, the destruction of fishing boats through decommissioning was the traumatic climax of a period of social and economic precarity caused by the whitefish crisis. The difference between the accounts of this period hinges critically on what it means to lose a boat.Decommissioning was a fleet-reduction strategy for the state but a politically meaningful period of mourning for fishermen. Decommissioning was a culmination of disconnect between Shetland fishermen and the state. That disconnect was built on two levels. The first level is language: what a boat “is.” The second level is experience: what a boat “means.” In this paper, I explore the terms and experiences associated with Shetland fishing boats. To understand the state’s perspective, I draw from the literature and history of European fisheries management. For fishermen’s PAGE 24


perspectives, I draw from my ethnographic interviews with Shetland fishermen. I show how, through decommissioning, these divergent perspectives became a profound and political example of the disconnect between fishermen and the state. State Perspective on Boats What a boat is

So let us turn to our first account: what a boat is from the perspective of the state. In response to 1990s overfishing in the North Sea and northeast Atlantic, the EU made funds available to Atlantic-facing member states in order to buy boats from fishermen and scrap (decommission)them. The existence of vessel buy-back programs suggests that the state understands boats as valuable machines that do powerful work. In fisheries governance literature, fishing is described in terms of “effort,” which consists of mechanical power—the technological capacity of a fishing boat and its gear—and the time over which that mechanical power is perpetuated. When lawmakers want to decrease fishing effort, they can either limit the amount of time that a boat spends fishing or constrain the physical and mechanical capacities of the boat itself. Boats are powerful machines, understood in units of capacity (tons) and force (kW), and recognizing the mechanical capabilities of fishing boats only serves to heighten the valuable work they do to carry out human intentions in realms that would otherwise be foreclosed.4 Machines are some of the most valuable human commodities precisely because of the work they do for us. In the case of fishing, the work that boats do can have meaningful impacts on both marine ecosystems and national political systems. Policing that work is both an environmental necessity and a profound challenge of international governance. What a boat means

Conflicts between British and European fishermen have been an ocean governance problem in Western Europe for centuries. Beginning as early as the 14th century, the kings of Scotland tried to prevent foreign boats from fishing too close to shore. In 1415 the king of Denmark complained to King Henry V about English fishermen casting their nets within Danish-controlled waters. In the early 19th century, tensions between French and British fishermen flared. In the years following the Napoleonic Wars, French fishermen wasted no time in re-entering British waters, much to the ire of British fishermen who had lost crucial years fighting in the Navy against the French. Nets were cut, fish were stolen, shots were fired, oversight and accountability were nonexistent (Tanner 1994). In an attempt at making individuals accountable for their actions on the fishing grounds, the British fishing boat registry emerged in its current form as part of the 1868 Sea Fisheries Act. 4 Alfred Gell considers a similar case in his discussions on art as extensions of human intention. See in particular his 1996, article “Vogel's Net: Traps as Artworks and Artworks as Traps,” as well as his 1998 book, Art and Agency: An Anthropological Theory. PAGE 25


The main goal of the fishing boat registry in the 1868 Sea Fisheries Act was to police fishermen by policing their boats. The Act required all boat owners to register their craft with the local port authority and subsequently paint their port code and registration number on both the hull and the sail of the boat. In order to enhance visibility at-distance, the Act even mandated the colors and dimensions of the painted registration numbers: painted characters had to be at least 18 inches high in either white lettering on a black background or black lettering on a white background (Tanner 1994). In local boat registries each boat registration number was associated with that boat’s “Control Details,” which included the boat’s ownership, local name, and a description of identifiable characteristics. In theory the visible boat number and the associated registry meant that in the event of altercations at sea, fisheries cruisers (precursors of the Coast Guard) could use the boat number to identify the individuals involved. Fishermen involved in a dispute could then either legitimately claim compensation for loses or the state could hold them legally accountable for their actions. In practice, however, the registry never quite achieved the level fisheries oversight it proposed. It quickly became clear that there were minor issues of identification, such as the similar appearance of the numbers 1, 4, 7, and 0, 3, 8 at a distance. But there were also major issues of state perception, such as the structural and finical impossibility of building a genuinely effective oversight mechanism for hundreds of miles of coastal waters (Tanner 1994). Despite the difficulties of its implementation, the appearance of boat registries in the 19th century reflects the emergence of a state that sees its role as broadly and deeply regulatory and a state that has concluded that successful regulation requires that individuals be made identifiable and accountable.5 In 1868, the Sea Fisheries Act made British fishing boats stand for the British fishermen who owned them. In giving each boat a registration number, the Act made fishing boats into state-recognized subjects that deserved to be both protected and prosecuted. It treated boat-and-fisherman as a unit, a unit that was both represented and made visible by the boat. Today, boat registration is accomplished through the Place Letter Number (PLN) system which has changed little since the 1868 Sea Fisheries Act. Only certain aspects of fishing boat “identity” are made legible through the PLN system and associated boat registries. Beginning in 1868, these oversight systems allowed the state to recognize the boat’s homeport, owner, and “identifiable features,” which today we might describe in terms of technological capacity or effort potential. These qualities, then, are the only aspects of boat identity that the state can “see” and therefore regulate.6 The state system of boat names therefore constructs a fishing boat into a particular kind of regimented thing: a valuable commodity and a powerful machine that the state can regulate by providing financial incentives to its owners. 5 It was over a century after the Sea Fisheries Act of 1868 before the UK applied the same logic of numerical identification to its citizens through the Social Insurance System (established in 1993). The similarity between the 1868 allocation of numbers to boats and the 1993 allocation of numbers to people blurs the state’s distinction between people and things. 6 For more on state perception,see James Scott’s influential 1998 text, Seeing like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition have Failed. PAGE 26


In contrast to the state, which sees boats as powerful machines that require oversight and control, the fishermen I interviewed described their boats in terms that approached human selfhood and devotion. When your boat sinks, one fisherman told me, it’s like someone has died. Understanding this perspective, and its political stakes, requires a narrative approach. Shetland Fishermen’s Perspectives on Boats What a boat is

In early June 2016, Sidney Sinclair had just gotten off the phone call with his brother on Fair Isle. His brother had just called to tell Sidney that he was home same after taking a man to scatter the ashes of a friend on an area of sea just off the Shetland island of Foula where a transatlantic ocean liner, the HMS Oceanic, had sunk in September 1914. It was the final wish of this man’s friend that his ashes rest with the boat. The Oceanic was the last and largest transatlantic liner to be launched in the 19th century, an event that was watched by 50,000 people. And when the Titanic was launched in 1911,seducing the world with her promises of progress, one hundred and thirty-seven of her crew members listed the Oceanic as the boat on which they had most recently been employed. In August 1914, on the eve of war, the Oceanic was refitted as an armed merchant cruiser and sent to patrol the waters between northern Scotland and the Faroe Islands. On September 8th of that year, two years and one week after the sinking of the Titanic shocked the world, the Oceanic ran aground on a reef on the notorious Shaads of Foula and sank to the bottom of the sea. The man scattering the ashes was named Alec Crawford, and it had been one of the last requests of his diving partner Simon Martin that some of Martin’s ashes be reunited with the boat. Crawford and Martin had been diving partners in a ship salvage business. Between 1973 and 1980 the two of them spent seven field seasons off the coast of Foula recovering 250 tons of copper and brass fittings from the Oceanic, a ship that Martin described as “the other Titanic” (Martin 2004). Over the course of those dives, the two men developed a relationship with the boat and its story. They became entranced. They discovered that the story of the Oceanic, like the story of the Titanic,was far more evocative than simply an account of a sunken machine. In a book Martin published in 1980 about the experience, he wrote that salvaging the Oceanic had been “the achievement of his life” (Martin 2004). But now Sidney’s brother was safe at home after taking Crawford to Foula to spread Martin’s ashes over the boat, so Sidney hung up the phone and turned to me. And I started asking about shipwrecks. Sidney’s father and grandfather were both fishermen and it continued on like that down through the generations. When Sidney was growing up and his father was off at the fishing there were times when the wind would blow like a hurricane. But he says that he never saw any concern from his mother. She was from a fishing family, too, and that’s just the way it was. He grew up in a fishing family in the fishing community of Hamnavoe on the Shetland island of Burra. Being a fisherman was in the blood. Sidney had wanted to be a fisherman PAGE 27


since he was a small child, but at the time his only other choice would have been to leave the island and his family and find a job on the mainland. When he was starting out his father told him to always make sure to have a career to fall back on, so he got an apprenticeship with an engineer for five years. But then he quit in 1970, came home, and went to sea. Sidney spent a couple years as crew on other Burra boats—the Evening Star and the Radiant Star—before he could save up enough money and find a crew and buy a boat of his own. He joined a group of local men and as a crew they saved up money to buy a boat. Despite the grant funding they were awarded from the Scottish Council of the Highlands and Islands, Sidney and the crew all still had massive loans. A representative from the Highlands and Islands Development Board interviewed Sidney and the crew in order to ask about the debt they had all taken on to pay for the boat: what collateral do you have to back this up? Sidney and the rest of the crew had laid down everything they owned as collateral. Everything was put against the boat, and Sidney says he had no hesitation about it. The representative from the development board was amazed: You’re sacrificing everything that you possess in order to secure this boat? But Sidney says he didn’t look at it like that. That’s just what all of them had to do in order to get started. That’s just what everybody did. Sidney was the engineer on that first boat, which they named the Valonia. And he says that she was a very successful boat; they fished awfully well with her. We were talking in his living room and he pointed out the picture of the Valonia on the wall, nestled among pictures of his family members and the other important boats of his life. But one night, fishing for sand eels off the coast of Fair Isle, they filled her right to the top with fish until she couldn’t hold any more. They made for Fraserburgh on the mainland of Scotland where they would get the best price for their catch, but something went wrong and the boat started to take on water. With one hundred tons of fish on board, the Valonia had lost all buoyancy. The engines began to slow, the bow started to dip, and the oil in the engine tipped enough to the side to trip the alarm that shut the engine off as a safety mechanism. With the engine off, there was nothing to help them pump the water out. Sidney was the engineer. He repeats this: I was the engineer. So as the boat tilted he scrambled down into the engine room. He poured more oil into the engine and got the level up enough for the pumps to start going again, but by that time water had started pouring through the ceiling vents and pooling on the floor of the engine room. He knew he had to abandon. We just had to abandon her. By the time he got up to the deck, the rest of the crew was calling to him to get onto the life raft and they paddled off to the side of the Valonia just before she turned turtle, entirely upside down. Sidney says that the only thing he could hear was the engine running: and that’s what kind of broke my heart... to hear the engines running and getting faster and faster and faster...and then just silence. She just stopped. And then she sank. But it was... to hear her those engines grinding themselves to pieces...I looked after those engines. I looked after that boat and she looked after me. For Sidney, there was something about the Valonia that had a sensuous presence,some PAGE 28


quality that exceeded the boat’s mere materialization or utilization as an object.7 This sensuous quality was not exclusively present in the Valonia. Sidney’s second boat, the Gratitude was also in a shipwreck, and this wreck ended Sidney’s career as a fisherman. While Sidney was asleep in his bunk, the crew member on watch fell asleep at the helm and the Gratitude ran aground. Sidney had felt his fair share of impacts on boats, he knew about impacts, and he could tell from the force that jolted him awake that the Gratitude was mortally wounded; she just couldn’t survive that one. There is something like love in these accounts, something like gratitude or a kind of care. Rather than describing boats exclusively in terms of their powerful mechanisms and automation as machines,8 Sidney details a way of life—for himself and for the boat—that arises from intimate partnership.9 This may even be the kind of intimate partnership that prompts a man to request that some of his ashes—the excess carbon of his human life—be spread over the sea to mingle with the boat that made his life feel meaningful.10 What a boat means

Shetland fishermen present and produce the profound personal meanings of fishing boats through the names that they give their boats. In the summer of 2019 Duncan Cumming was 31. His father was moving toward retirement and Duncan had started to replace him in the role of skipper on every other fishing trip of the Avrella. The Avrella was the family fishing boat, and it was built the same year that Duncan was born. This was the second Avrella. The first had been Duncan’s grandfather’s boat. Duncan’s grandfather was also named Duncan. Duncan’s father was away at sea for much of the time that Duncan was growing up, so Duncan spent a lot of time with his grandfather. When I ask Duncan why his family decided to keep the name of his grandfather’s boat he says that his grandfather started it all. He thinks for a second before continuing: I don’t know what you would call it... a tribute to him. Duncan’s grandfather was a skipper on one other boat before the original Avrella. The PLN for that boat was LK 174. As soon as LK 174 became available,Duncan and his father requested it for the Avrella that they work on today. Duncan says they did this because LK 174 was the number of his grandfather’s very first boat, the boat in which his grandfather 7 The language in this sentence is adapted from Bill Brown’s 2001 article, “Thing Theory.” See in particular Brown 2001, 5. 8 Here I’m drawing explicit insight from Jane Bennett’s 2009 book Vibrant Matter. In particular see (Bennett 2009, 3) 9 This concept is heavily influenced by Kathryn Dudley’s 2014 book Guitar Makers. 10 The story of Martin’s ashes and the Oceanic powerfully embodies Jane Bennett’s observation about the vitality of matter: “The story will highlight the extent to which the us and the it slip-slide into each other. One moral of the story is that we are also nonhuman and that things, too, are vital players in the world” (Bennett 2009, 4) PAGE 29


became locally known as a successful fisherman. Duncan tells me that boats weren’t as powerful, back when his grandfather started out fishing. But his grandfather knew his boat and knew how to push her to do things nobody else was doing with their boats. He thinks about it more: Maybe the number of that first boat is lucky, I don’t know. Duncan and his family have completely reinterpreted the state system of naming boats with numbers into their local system of naming boats based on local and family histories. The number becomes just another aspect of the family name, wherein owners hope to apply some of the qualities of the old boat’s life to the new. I met some fishermen in Shetland who would only accept registration numbers that either contained or added up to their lucky number. I met one man whose older brother had inherited the family boat registration number, so he accepted the family number plus one. The state’s registry system for keeping track of boats has been locally translated into an alternative registry of luck, family histories, and generational success. Duncan’s story of the Avrella name shared across multiple generations is also common in Shetland. A boat called the Research is the most widely recognized example a multigenerational boat name in Shetland. The first Research was a six-oar wooden fishing boat used during the Shetland Haaf fishery of the 19th Century. Today, the seventh generation of the Research is a 79.8m long pelagic trawler that was just rebuilt in 2018. It is also common for a skipper to name the boat after a firstborn child, often a daughter’s fist and middle name, as is the case for the Shetland boat Alison Kay. On the Shetland island of Whalsay, boats named for ancestors and descendants have a human “godmother.” Ruby Anderson is the godmother of the Adenia: a Whalsay pelagic trawler crewed by her sons and husband. As godmother, Ruby was responsible for launching the new Adenia with a blessing at its 2019 naming ceremony held at the shipyard in Spain where the boat was built. The Andersons chartered two planes from Shetland to Spain so that their friends and family could attend the event. When I asked the skipper of the Adenia, George William Anderson, why he was willing to go to such expense and take on so much financial risk in the buying and building of fishing boats he replied, the boat is my family; that’s the whole thing. What is a boat? Both the state and fishermen understand boats as powerful laboring machines and valuable commodities, but there remains a crucial difference between these perspectives. For the state, the value of boats is entirely encompassed within the terms of mechanical fishing effort and monetary compensation. The monetary exchange value of fishing boats is incredibly important for Shetland fishermen as well when they need to buy, sell, or repair a boat. However, while the state sees boats exclusively as powerful machines and valuable commodities, boats flash in and out of commodity status for fishermen. For people living in Shetland fishing communities the commodity status of fishing boats is, as Kathryn Dudley



writes of commodification in American craft communities, “just one system of value among others which, while formidable, has no monopoly on human desire” (Dudley 2014, 301). A fishing boat is unquestionably valuable as a machine, but it is also an invaluable actor that both enables and is enabled by fishing as a way of life. The state describes fishing boats in terms of fishing effort and policing measures. Sidney describes his fishing boats in terms of partnership. Duncan describes his fishing boat in terms of family. All these descriptions involve the labor of fishermen and fishing boats. However, in the state’s descriptions, those forms of labor are alienated from one another while, in the stories from Shetland fishermen, they are intimately connected. Each of these kinds of relationships—alienation and intimacy—produces a different kind of life. The state could only fund the destruction of boats if it understood boats as replaceable machines, alienated from (or, similarly, replaceable in) the lives of the fishermen that used them. In the state’s account, then, the boats take on a kind of mechanistic, non-grievable life that is independent (alienated) from the lives of the fishermen.11 What then are we to do with the accounts of fishermen, who describe their boats as female partners (the Avrella; the Adenia; the Alison Kay; she was mortally wounded, I knew she couldn’t survive that one) in a meaningful life on the otherwise uninhabitable realm of the Northern Atlantic?12 These fishermen are articulating an intimate partnership with their boats and therefore defining a kind of life that arises from mutual desire: the desire of both the fisherman and the fishing boat to fish. These intimate partnerships span generations and produce families: there have been seven generations of the Research, and Ruby’s husband and all her sons work together on the Adenia. In the state’s account, boats only exist in time to the extent that there are either “modern” or “obsolescent” machines. In fishermen’s accounts, boats define history and family. The difference in these two kinds of descriptions is also apparent in the separate naming systems that the state and Shetland fishermen use for the same boats. Where fishermen use culturally or personally evocative names (we have heard about the Radiant Star, the Evening Star, the Valonia, the Gratitude, the Avrella, the Alison Kay, and the Adenia), the state uses an alphanumerical registry called the Port Letter Number (PLN) system.The state system of boat names therefore constructs a fishing boat into a particular kind of regimented thing: a valuable commodity and a powerful machine that the state can regulate by providing financial incentives to its owners. In contrast, the waythat Shetland fishermen name their boats represents precisely the personal and locally situated meaning that the PLN system

11 This is similar to Marx’s account of fetishization wherein commodities appear to have a life of their own when they are alienated from the labor that produced them and acquiring them becomes the goal of bourgeoisie society (Marx 1844). However my account diverges from Marx in that the life of boats is produced by alienation in so far as boat labor is made mechanistic rather than understood as deeply contingent upon and situated within fishermen’s lives. 12 For more on intimacy and the liveliness of objects, see Mel Chen’s 2012 book Animacies: Biopolitics, Racial Mattering, and Queer Affect PAGE 31


obscures.13 During the 1990s whitefish crisis and fleet structural adjustment programs, the state understood fishing boats only in terms of their commodity status and their mechanistic fish catching properties. In contrast, the Shetland understanding of boats as kin, as memory, and as profound vessels for and of belonging was officially imperceptible to fisheries policy makers. These different understandings of boats lead to diverging historical understandings fishing boat decommissioning, which, for many Shetland fishermen was a traumatic event but for fisheries policy makers was merely a sub-optimal attempt at reducing fishing effort. Decommissioning In response to the 1990s whitefish crisis in the North Sea and North-East Atlantic, the European Council set targets for member state fleet reduction required by 1996. The Council incentivized those targets by making increased European Union (EU) funds available for the production of far smaller, more efficient fishing fleets in Atlantic-facing member states (OECD 2000: 44; Surıś Regueiroet al.2003).14 In order to qualify for EU “scrap and build” funds, each member state had to attempt to reduce its overall fleet tonnage and engine power by 10.5% and its fishing activity by 8.5% by the year 1996 (OECD 2000: 44). The UK complied. Fishing quotas were reduced to all-time lows, and the British government offered its fishermen the opportunity to sell their boats in a series of government buy-back vessel decommissioning schemes (OECD 2000: 44). In practice, decommissioning involved a fisherman receiving a government payment for his boat and, in exchange, sailing it to a scrapyard to be disassembled. Scrapping the boats accomplished the twin goals of preventing illegal fishing with unregistered boats and removing old (or aging) boats that were declining in both commodity value and fuel efficiency (Thom 1998). There are diverging official accounts about how successful the 1990s EU fleet structural adjustment programs were in actually reducing fishing effort. Most of the participating member states did not meet the program’s required reduction targets,15 and the UK only 13 I was inspired by Lisa Stevenson’s claim that names “call [persons] into being,” which she evocatively described in the chapter entitled “Life-of-the-Name” in her 2014 book, Life Beside Itself: Imagining Care in the Canadian Arctic. 14 In the case of decommissioning, on average 60% of the operation was financed by the EU and 40% was financed by the member states. In the UK specifically, the EU financed 52% of decommissioning and 48% was financed bythe UK. In the case of the renovation and modernization of the fleet, on average the EU financed 77.5% and the member states financed 22.5%. In the UK specifically, 65% was funded by the EU and 35% was funded by the UK. However, fleet renovation and modernization in the UK only amounted to 2.58% of the total fleet renovation and modernization that occurred in Atlantic-facing EU member states during that time (UK percentages calculated by the author from regional data presented in Surıs-Regueiro ́ et al.2003). 15 Of the eleven member states that participated, eight of the states reduced its fleet’s overall power (kW) and only six reduced its fleet’s overall capacity (tons). Overall, while there was a reduction in vessel power (-789,000 kW), there was actually an increase in fishing vessel capacity (+44,000 tons) (Surıs-Regueiro ́ et al.2003). PAGE 32


achieved about half of the program’s objectives (EC Commission 1996 as cited by Thom 1998). However, the whitefish stocks did bounce back (Napier 2018), and by the year 2000 more than one-third of the UK fishermen affected by decommissioning had been able to return to fishing (OECD 2000: 45). Despite its glaring inefficiencies, the EU fleet structural adjustment program had the rare mark of a legislation that—at least on (some) paper— seemed good for the fish and for the fishermen. In the 1990s George William worked on pelagic boats, which pursue herring and mackerel far offshore, so his employment and livelihood on the Shetland island of Whalsay was not directly threatened by the whitefish crisis. He was lucky. The whitefish crisis hit Whalsay hard, and many of the skippers of Whalsay whitefish boats had no choice but to decommission their boats. The kitchen windows of Ruby and George William’s house look out over Whalsay harbor, and between 1991 and 1996 Ruby says she watched the whitefish fleet dwindle as one by one they sailed out past the breakwater for the last time. She says that she mourned as she watched; it was like watching a funeral, like watching the life go out of the harbor. George William was in his la te thirties then and he helped out the skipper of one Whalsay whitefish boat by sailing hisboat to a Denmark scrapyard to be decommissioned. When he delivered the boat to be scrapped, he had to go into the yard where they were breaking up the British fleet. He says he remembers seeing a whole line of wheelhouses separated from their boats, like decapitated heads on the grass, some with soda cans still resting by their windows. In another part of the yard, he says that there were engines lined up like coffins. He refutes the idea that all the boats that were decommissioned were old or broken or inefficient: I saw beautiful boats, immaculately cared for, destroyed. It just broke your heart. George William’s descriptions of the Denmark decommissioning scrapyards paint the picture of a life cut unexpectedly short (think of the skipper’s soda can still sitting by the window as if the skipper still might return). In his memory, the scrapyard was not only a scene of death (engines lined up like coffins) but perhaps even of an execution (wheelhouses separated from their boats and lined up on the grass like decapitated heads). For those who can describe it, this uncanny scene of boat death contains unexpected amounts of pain, power, and political implications. Conclusion At the beginning of the new millennium, 500 jobs (on sea and on land) depended upon the Shetland whitefish sector. In 2002, forty percent of the Shetland whitefish fishermen had decommissioned their boats (Dr. Ian Napier, personal communication). Not all of the Shetland skippers and shareholders who decommissioned their boats did so for the same reasons. Some fishermen were in their sixties and had no children who wanted to continue the fishing tradition in such dire economic straits. The chance to be paid for their old boat was a boon for them. Others decommissioned their boat because they could not fish enough legally to support themselves and their morals would not allow them to fish illegally. PAGE 33


Some figured they would take the short-term payout and return to fishing when the stocks improved. Some of these men did return when the fishing got better, and some of them never made enough money again to buy a share in another boat. Some turned to the oil and gas industry and started work on the North Sea rigs. The whitefish stocks did improve, though it is impossible to know whether this improvement was due to the 1990s fleet reduction in EU Atlantic-facing member states or warming waters pushing southern populations of cod and haddock closer to the Arctic. In the summer of 2019, the Shetland whitefish industry was more successful than it had been in decades. Two new fish markets were being built, and young fishermen were joining classes at the fisheries college. However,despite these successes,members of the Shetland fishing community have not forgotten decommissioning. The present-day success of the whitefish industry is felt by a much smaller number of fishermen working on a smaller number of boats. The boats currently fishing are successful, but many of Shetland’s community whitefish fleets never recovered. The islands of Burra and Whalsay have small fractions of the whitefish fleets they once did, and the island of Out Skerries had two boats left as of summer 2019. Most fishermen lay the blame on the EU Common Fishing Policy and the lack of power that small fishing operations and producer organizations have to impact those policies. Let us return, then,to the pro-Brexit flyer and the photograph of decommissioning it depicts. Through this photograph, the damage of decommissioning—and the disconnect between the state and fishermen that it represents—circulates as a spectacular image with political impact. That a pro-Brexit fishermen’s organization would employ this image as propaganda illustrates the stakes of fishermen’s narrative accounts of their boats. In the terms and experiences of the state, this a picture of a scrapyard where inefficient machines are being decommissioned. In the terms and experiences of fishermen, this is an image of lost lives. The reverberating social effects of the EU fleet structural adjustment programs, including the Brexit vote in Shetland fishing communities, are incomprehensible without such histories. Bibliography

Bennett, Jane. 2010. “The Force of Things.” In Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham, NC: Duke University Press Books. Brown, Bill. 2001. “Thing Theory.” Critical Inquiry 28 (1): 1–22. Byron, Reginald. 1986. Sea Change: A Shetland Society, 1970-1979. St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada: Institute for Social and Economic Research and Policy. Cann, Charles. 1998. “The Politics of Fishing: A Fisheries Manager’s Point of View.” In The Politics of Fishing, edited by Tim Gray, 24–32. London: New York: Palgrave Macmillan. PAGE 34


Chen, Mel Y. 2012. Animacies: Biopolitics, Racial Mattering, and Queer Affect. Durham, NC: Duke University Press Books. Crean, Kevin. 1998. “Establishing Sea Territories: A Way Forward for the Development of the Fisheries of the European Union?” In The Politics of Fishing, edited by Tim Gray, 161–73. London: New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Dudley, Kathryn Marie. 2014. Guitar Makers: The Endurance of Artisanal Values in North America. Reprint edition. University of Chicago Press. Gell, Alfred. 1996. “Vogel’s Net: Traps as Artworks and Artworks as Traps.” Journal of Material Culture 1 (1): 15–38. —. 1998. Art and Agency: An Anthropological Theory. Clarendon Press. Geoghegan, Peter. 2017. “Northern Exposure: Brexit Reveals Shetland Split.” POLITICO. October 2, 2017. Goodlad, John. 1998. “Sectoral Quota Management: Fisheries Management by Fish Producer Organizations.” In The Politics of Fishing, 228–50. London: New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Gray, Tim. 1998a. “Fishing: A Defense of Politics.” In The Politics of Fishing, 1–23. London: New York: Palgrave Macmillan. —. 1998b. “Fishing and Fairness: The Justice of the Common Fisheries Policy.” In The Politics of Fishing, 228–50. London: New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Martin, Simon. 1980. The Other “Titanic.” New edition. Lerwick: Shetland Times Ltd. Marx, Karl. 2007. Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. Mineola, N.Y: Dover Publications. McCall, Chris. 2017. “Shetland District ‘Had Highest Leave Vote in Scotland.’” February 6, 2017. Napier, Ian R. 2015. “‘A Long and Proud History.’” In Shetland Fishermen Yearbook 2016: News, Views and Essential Information about the Isle’s Leading Industry, edited by Paul Riddell. Lerwick, Shetland: Shetland Fishermen’s Association. Napier, Ian R. 2018. “Trends in Scottish Fish Stocks 2018,” 22.



OECD. 2000. Transition to Responsible Fisheries Economic and Policy Implications: Economic and Policy Implications. OECD Publishing. Scott, James C. 1998. Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the HumanCondition Have Failed. Yale Agrarian Studies. New Haven: Yale University Press. Stevenson, Lisa. 2014. Life Beside Itself: Imagining Care in the Canadian Arctic. Univ of California Press. Surís-Regueiro, Juan C., Manuel M. Varela-Lafuente, and M. Dolores Garza-Gil. 2011. “Evolution and Perspectives of the Fisheries Structural Policy in the European Union.” Ocean & Coastal Management 54 (8): 593–600. Surıs-Regueiro, ́ Juan C., Manuel M. Varela-Lafuente, and Carlos Iglesias-Malvido. 2003. “Effectiveness of the Structural Fisheries Policy in the European Union.” Marine Policy 27 (6): 535–44. Tanner, Matthew. 1994. “Registration and Control of Fishing Boats in the Nineteenth Century.” Thesis, University of St Andrews. Thom, Mireille. 1998. “A Comparision of British and French Fishing Policies.” In The Politics of Fishing, edited by Tim Gray. London: New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

While Nations Talk, Cities Act-A Transition of the Climate Change Regime Anders Plambæk

Research question: To what extent may the ongoing transition from state-based to a polycentric city-based governance help or hinder global carbon emission reductions? -Short presentation of current monocentric state-level governance and its shortcomings -Would a polycentric governance system be advantageous in its ideal state?-Focusing on the C40 transnational municipal network as a unit, do we see a movement towards polycentricism? -Do theory and practice match? Do we gain results?



Introduction -Why not states? “Climate change governance has been more than 30 years in the making, but it remains a work in progress (...) In spite of all the resources -time, money, personal reputations that have been painstakingly invested in the climate change regime, global emissions have still not peaked.” (Jordan et al.2018). Climate change governance has long proved to be a case of slow and ineffective collective action from states at best and a failure to solve a global common problem at worst (Jordan et al. 2018). Within classical realist theory of international politics, the issue of collective action between states stems from the lack of trust (Waltz 1979). With collective action, sovereign states are expected to engage with each other to negotiate binding treaties on emission reductions with no supranational institution in place to enforce these treaties or hold states to their words. States are to govern in an arena with no overarching authority.The problem, according to realists, is that states have no reason to trust each other or to expect other states to act out of benevolence or for a greater common good. Why should they? (ibid.) Rational sovereign states tend to act out of self-interest to ensure their own survival, leaving aside the interest of the global commons (Clapp & Dauvergne 2011). They have no rational reason to act within the collective good in the short run, if they can free-ride or benefit on exploitation of common goods by being selfish. The international arena of negotiation then holds great uncertainty. Each state has highly differentiated capacities and responsibilities to act against climate change. Every state has several major issues and threats on its agenda to not make climate action a first priority (Jordan et al. 2018). Rationally, it may even be in states’ interest to generate pollution from production to the extent that the polluting state can harvest all the benefits from the production, but only suffer a fraction of the damage (Underdal 2002). It clashes with the paramount need of climate change governance, when problems stemming from pollution, greenhouse gas emission and other environmental issues spill across borders, effecting the whole planet (Clapp & Dauvergne 2011). This collective action dilemma in global governance is not easily solved. If climate change is to be stopped or contained effectively, international collective regulatory action is needed. International society consists of independent sovereign states as the most (or arguably the only) important actors in any international regime of global society (Bull 1977). Therefore, global cooperation and regulation can hardly be executed without state-level cooperation. However, as argued above, treaty negotiations between states are unlikely to provide sufficiently effective solutions to handle global greenhouse gas emissions (Miles 2002). Whether or not it may be attributed to a realist analysis of the lack of trust between rational actors, treaty inefficiency is evident by how global emissions have not yet peaked, despite the Kyoto Protocol being signed 23 years ago (Jordan et al. 2018). How,then,can global collective action be managed? Surprisingly, the new tendency is that civil society manages to cooperate globally, voluntarily and with high ambitions through non/substate actors. They bypass states and act collectively across borders. While serving as chair of C40, former mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg put it boldly “While nations talk, but too often drag their heels –cities act” ( 2012). PAGE 37


Literature review Faced with the lack of action from states,the last decade has increasingly seen cities and other non/substate actors rise to act on their own.There is a wealth of literature focusing on this transition and its effect on climate change. To get an overview, some scholars have made it their task to analyze and cover the sheer size of growing bottom-up approaches to climate governance, whether they are done by individual actors, cities, regions, companies or civil society as such(Keohane & Victor 2011; Falkner 2016). Others have dealt with analyzing the transition away from state-centrism (Markard & Truffe 2008; Loorbach 2010; Grin et al. 2010). The general finding is that this type of governance innovation requires a weakening of state regimes before there is room for new actors. With Sweden as an exemplar case of good state climate governance, Kronsell et al. look at how well states utilize these new actors, arguing that Swedish policy makers fail to promote an innovative transition, because they do not differentiate types of actors in terms of whether they are incumbents or niche(Kronsell et al. 2019).Scholars, especially Ostrom, have instead worked with formulating a theory to describe the ideal way that states may cooperate with such non/substate actors in a polycentric governance system (Ostrom 2010;van Asselt & Zelli 2018; Jordan et al. 2018).In this framework, city actors have seen the most intense scholarly interest. According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) urban energy consumption amounts to about 75 per cent of global carbon emissions (IPCC 2018), so there is a huge CO2 mitigation potential. But the interest stems as much from the new tendency that cities gather in transnational municipal networks and show extraordinary initiative on climate governance.They participate in and promote global climate change action, they set their own carbon emission reduction polices and they collaborate and share knowledge transnationally. It is all done voluntarily without any use of coercive force from a sovereign state or institution(Kona et al. 2018; IPCC 2018). In this line of research, Kona et al. &Melica et al. (2018; 2018)look at the European initiative The Covenant of Mayors, and how it has built a platform that enables cities to spread and share experiences, methods, knowledge and which requires its members to annually report and evaluate their global climate action contribution.The Covenant of Mayors consists mainly of small and medium sized cities with less than 10.000 inhabitants and is limited to the European continent.Some scholars have led the critique that a city-centered focus on climate change governance might not be ideal. Within that critique, Stigt et al. (2017) argue that urban planning at a local scale focuses more on increasing everyday quality of life than on global carbon emission reduction. The authors warn that if you devolve authority to local stake holders that focus on urban quality, you risk turning a blind eye to larger scale social and environmental problems. Planning needs to include these interests either through (supra)national regulations or through advocacy from representatives of broader environmental. A polycentric governance that promotes synergy between multiple centers of authority rather than one that moves the focal point of monocentric governance from state to city.This article attempts to meet the critique by focusing on the larger,resourceful European cities and their interactions with states in the climate change regime. While the study of city initiatives is rich, there is a gap in the literature when it comes to analyzing the PAGE 38


transition of policy making from state towards transnational municipal networks such as C40 (Bulkeley et al. 2003). C40 currently consists of 94 of the world’s largest and most innovative cities, covering more than 25 % of global GDP. Its members have the responsibility for almost 80 % of world energy usage and 75 % of greenhouse gas emissions, making it the largest transnational municipal climate network (Pinault & Hansen 2018).Still, even within C40, reasons fo rparticipation and ways of conduct vary quite significantly.The two case studies of Chu 2016 and Fisher & Dodman 2019 support the idea that for C40 cities in the Global South, the local development agenda is industrialization and economic development, not solving larger scale environmental problems. Sustainability and climate protection have come to mean safeguarding economic systems and associating infrastructures(Chu 2016; Fisher & Dodman 2019). Adaptation and mitigation are conceptualized around urban resilience, focusing on short-term politics and vulnerability more than global future-oriented problems(Loorbach 2010). The scope of this article stays within more developed European members in the Global North because European cities in C40 follow more ambitious carbon emission reduction policies than their respective states(Pinault & Hansen 2018; C40 2018).By focusing on European C40 members, the ambition is to answer the following research question: -“To what exten tmay the ongoing transition from state-based to a polycentric governance system help or hinder global carbon emission reductions?�. Presentation of theory The first part of this sectionwill present regime theory as a framework with a classic statecentric focus,where global problems are dealt with by states joining forces as global actors in a top-down approach. It will be explored as the off-set of covering the later transition of the current climate change regime happening in global climate change governance. The second part of the section will cover key analytical terms of transition theory, a framework that was originally formulated to describe how social movements can provoke innovation in technology, and then explain how innovation feeds back in to transitions within society. The same theory has later been used to cover innovations and transitions in social settings, as in this article where the transition takes its offset in a classic view on international regimes. The final part of the theory section will introduce polycentrismas a systemic term. A polycentric governance system is one consisting of many intertwining constituted bodies of authority within the area of governance, all managing to govern complementarily towards the same goal.In this article it is to be explored as the expected outcome of a transition from a state-centric climate change regime. Problem-driven regimes in a landscape of states The current state negotiation approach to solving climate change is well captured by PAGE 39


regime theory. International regimes are here understood as social institutions,created solely to fix socially set issues that do not have a centralized authority or government responsible for solving the issues. As such they exist to fix problems that are anarchical, i.e. put under no specific government’s sovereignty or jurisdiction (Breitmeier et al.2006). Regimes,then,are formed where governance is needed in an area with no government. With this follows that regimes are ordinarily problem-driven in nature. A regime’s very existence, its power and momentum,depend on the surrounding acknowledgment of the importance and severity of the problem that it is meant to solve. It makes a regime’s existence all the more difficult and unpredictable that it is set in a social, anarchical setting. Frequently, key actors change or evolve their views on the importance of a given regime problem, there by continuously redefining the power and resources at hand for the appropriate regime. This is true more than anywhere with the climate change regime.Historically, the attempt of acknowledging climate change as a problem severe enough to create an international climate change regime has seen much opposition and faced much disbelief before sustainable development was made any sort of priority (ibid.). Regimes work by drawing attention to issues and putting them on the global political agenda.In Hass et al.’sstudy of seven regime cases, regime effectiveness has been identified through three effects: Regimes create an increased awareness and concern of a problem,an improved contractual environment and an enhanced capacity to solve the problem at hand through increased resources, knowledge and participation(Haas et al. 1993).An actual climate change regime was eventually established to solve a climate problem that may be summed up accordingly, “an increase of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere and inability of humans and ecosystems to adapt to the impacts of climate changes that ensue” (Breitmeier et al. 2006, p 37). While regimes can be more or less effective, and while their momentum may very well change over time, studies show that in general, regimes do make a significant difference(See Haas et al. 1993; Breitmeier et al. 2006; Miles et al. 2002; Clapp& Dauvergne 2011).In one major study, the 2002 ‘Environmental Regime Effectiveness Confronting Theory With Evidence’, Miles et al.find powerful support for the counterfactual argument that for whatever problem a regime was created to solve, in the absence of the regime,the outcome would have been worse.In more than half of their cases, the impact of regimes in changing actor behavior in the intended direction is deemed significant or major. Still,most regimes fail to achieve the optimal solutions and actually solve the problem they were designed for. In the case of the climate change regime, one successful example is how states came together through the UN to shape the Kyoto Protocol as the first major collective achievement of the regime working towards its goal of decreasing greenhouse gasses and adapting to climate change, proving Miles et al. right in how regimes are able to make a difference. With the 2009 Copenhagen Climate Change Conference failing to find a new ambitious treaty to replace the Kyoto Protocol,Miles et al.’s other conclusion stands true as well. The regime had yet to reach the optimal solution and control the world’s greenhouse gas emissions (ibid.). As international society is conventionally argued to consist of states, the actors that constitute a regime have classically been seen as mainly consisting of states (Bull 1977). Evidence of this is found in the major work on international regimes, the International PAGE 40


Regimes Database(IRD), which comprises the larges tcase study number of international regimes within one database, spanning the last century until 1998, with more than 60 regimes analyzed. All regimes are mainly or entirely comprised of state actors, whereas some might include nonstate actors as complements to a mainly state-centered regime (Breitmeier et al. 2006). Nonetheless, by 1998 nonstate actors were not heavily represented in the IRD. Cities and transnational municipal networks were no trepresented at all. One observation made from the database that shows the key role of states for regime sis that most of the regimes covered see the same 50 state actors repeatedly, whereas in the case of nonstate actors only the largest NGOs such as WWF and Greenpeace appear across more than one regime(ibid.). Transitions through a niche of innovative cities Transitions are interactive processes of structural change in societal (sub-)systems, with “niches” at the micro-level spurring transitions of regimes at a meso-level(Markard & Truffe 2008; Loorbach 2010). These “transitions” or changes come about,when the dominant societal regime is put under pressure by external changes which weaken the regime’s power, while endogenous innovation simultaneously gives rise to a new regime structure that may challenge the dominant regime on its rules, norms and established practices (Kronsell et al. 2019; Grinet al.2010). Understood as a critical juncture, for transitions to happen, both heavy external pressure and endogenous innovation have to be in place at the same time(Capoccia &Kelemen 2007). The concept of a transition is the effect of complex interaction patterns between individuals, networks and regimes in a social context with the result of a qualitative change in regime to a more intricate, more efficient stage(Loorbach 2010). These are what transition theorists refer to as “co-evolution processes” that require multiple changes in socio-technical systems. Cultural and institutional subsystems co-evolve in many ways and can reinforce each other to co-determine a transition. Co-evolution also refers to the co-evolutionary aspects of managing transitions as complex, comprehensive and multilayered phenomena by emphasizing how the process of experimenting and learning is a cyclical, iterative process (Grin et al. 2010, p 4).Co-evolution processes in a climate change regime would show frequent interactions between states and new actors within states, eventually creating a new set of regime rules and procedures. At the micro-level of endogenous change, radical innovations come from what transition theory refers to as“niches”. Niches emerge on the fringe of existing regimes and consist of small, unstable social networks of entrepreneurs and risk-taking innovators who act within a limited structure and high uncertainty as the front runners in the niches(Grin et al. 2010). The way transitions manage to shape and change rules and procedures through innovation is described by transition theory’s understanding of knowledge creation in regimes in what is labeled the “co-design concept”. It is an acknowledgement that in the dynamics between social networks on a micro-and meso-level, knowledge is developed in a complex, interactive,process through frequent interactions and experiments between theoretical knowledge, practical knowledge and practical experience. In transition processes, it ultimately leads to a change in perspective of actors who then jointly try to find a shared problem perception and directions for sustainable solutions. PAGE 41


Transitions like this take 20 years or more to happen,as they move through a set of phases that maybe identified in a backwards historical analysis in a “multiphase concept�. A transition may be divided into a sequence of four phases in time(ibid.): 1) The pre-development phase of a dynamic state of equilibrium. The status quo of the dominant regime is slowly changing in the background. Changes are not visible or brought to attention. 2) The take-off phase. Pressure has built up on the current regime, after which the process of structural change picks up momentum as radical innovations start appearing and challenge the regime 3) The acceleration phase. Structural changes become visible, as the regime caves to new innovations and changes its rules and procedures in an attempt to better meet the outside pressure and solve the problem that is the premise of its existence. 4) A stabilization phase where a new dynamic state of equilibrium is achieved. With this backwards understanding of phases, transition theory has roots in historical institutionalism, with the phases being predictable through an expected sequence of development. The take-off phase describes a moment in time and place that is prone to experience a critical juncture. A critical juncture then further increases the possibility of sparking an acceleration phase and so forth(Capoccia & Kelemen 2007; Verdun 2015). A transition is complete at the stabilization phase, as a complex, adaptive system is successfully adjusted to changed internal and external circumstances. It should be noted that transition processes are surrounded by uncertainty and complexity, so the degree of predictability within transition theory is small. However, the transition pattern does imply specific generic patterns such as path dependency that indicate the future transition path. The further we are into one phase, the more likely it is that the next phase will appear, although there is no precedence for a timely prediction of when the phases shift (Grin et al. 2010). Conventionally with regime theory,climate governance has been described top-down, starting from the highest level of governance, international society, working downwards and outwards from there. By focusing on international society, climate change is primarily labelled as a global problem, where states are held accountable, if they do not reach conclusions and collective action. But as argued, collective action on this level is slow and ineffective.In that regard,it is interesting for more than one reason,if regimes see a growth of substate actors. It indicates that in the international regime of climate change, governance is no longer a state prerogative. An increase in bottom-up approaches forces a rethinking of the political authority to govern as dispersed through more constituted bodies than the state. This makes climate change a problem being handled locally as much as globally(Jordan et al. 2018). Thinking of a dispersed political authority also points towards a landscape where other actors than states maybe held accountable for their (in)actions. In terms of civil society, climate change puts individuals in risk of losing their jobs and livelihood, making local solutions central. It also brings up questions of whether the rise of



substate actors as a relevant political force in climate change politics will change the principles, norms, rules or decision-making procedures within institutional arrangements all the way up to the levels of the UN; a radical transition indeed (Breitmeier et al. 2006; Grin et al. 2010). A model of polycentric governance As this article argues tha ta transition of the climate change regime is happening from being state-centered to a regime that includes substate actors in the heart of its governance, the following section will describe the effects of a polycentric governance system. I will argue that a polycentric governance system is the optimal end goal, that may solve the problems of collective action and create a more efficient regime.While a polycentric governance system implies inclusion of other non/substate actors in governance on multiple levels, in this article, polycentrism will solely be used as a theoretical term to address the inclusion of city actors in governance of the climate change regime through the C40 network(Grin et al. 2010) .A polycentric governance system is one where more levels of governance are present than the state. Essentially, political authority is dispersed to multiple governing authorities at different scales, acting as separately constituted actors that are not in a hierarchical relationship with each other (Skelcher, 2005). In true polycentric governance, each unit within a polycentric system should be able to exercise considerable independence to make norms and rules within a specific domain without referring to a “higher” entity, whether this domain is a family, a local government, a network of local governments, a region, a national government or an international regime (Ostrom, 2010). A polycentric governance system is more complex than a monocentric, state-run regime. It may be an advantageous model, because at its best, you will see multiple public and private actors and organizations managing to work toward the same goal through differentiated approaches that jointly affect collective benefits (Cole 2011). The postulate from recent literature on the topic is that a polycentric government system is a positive necessity for the future development of carbon emission reduction and other global acts against climate change (See Jordan et al. 2018; IPCC 2018; Kona et al. 2018). The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) puts particular emphasis on polycentrism in its 2018 Special Report on the impacts of a global warming of 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. In the 4.4.1 chapter, ‘Enhancing Multilevel Governance’, the first sentence reads,“Addressing climate change and implementing responses to 1.5°Cconsistent pathways would require engagement between various levels and types of governance” (IPCC 2018, p 352). The report proceeds with a broad definition of governance that goes beyond formal state government, as “processes of interaction and decisionmaking among actors in a common problem”. The broad definition is later used to acknowledge that governance can support multiple solutions from a variety of actors; governance is not and should not be considered state-bound.The report promotes the need of a polycentric regime, as it covers an ideal situation of governance where institutions PAGE 43


should interact amongst themselves,so that they may share responsibilities of developing and implementing rules and regulations with a common goal of limiting global warming to 1.5°C (ibid.). The idea of tackling climate change at multiple levels acknowledges that different authorities have their areas of strength to govern, “National governments, for example, have been associated with enhancing adaptive capacity through building awareness of climate impacts, encouraging economic growth, providing incentives, establishing legislative frameworks conducive to adaptation, and communicating climate change information (...) Local governments, on the other hand, are responsible for delivering basic services and utilities to the urban population”(IPCC 2018, p 355) Local authorities have direct jurisdiction over the provision of public services like lighting, waste-water management, building insulation and public transportation, all important instruments that can be improved to drastically reduce greenhouse gas emissions (Kona et al., 2018). While state governments could in principle rule over these same public services, there is a common assumption of the value of subsidiarity. Those who are closest to the problem develop the best understanding. It often proves effective to utilize the factual knowledge that local actors have about the environmental issues concerning them (Kastens &Newig 2008). The level of trust may also become stronger, as decisions are brought down from state level to a local level, where decisions are made face-to-face (Dorsch & Flachsland, 2017). If state governments want to reach their carbon emission goals, there are benefits to embracing substate actors as partners. Cities are not waiting within each country for their state-led climate change regimes to act.Instead, they are increasingly shown to stand out with more ambitious carbon emission reduction policies than their sovereign states. Subnational, national and transnational forms of governance could be complementary rather than competitive. Actors may have very different effective instruments to use, but they all essentially lead to reduced greenhouse gas emissions (IPCC 2018; Andonova et al. 2017; Hale 2016). If a governance system was implemented where local initiatives were complementary with higher level policies and could be integrated in the polycentric governance system, there would be no reason why such a system should not provide much more effective climate change policies than a statecentric regime. Cities as a case In recent years transnational municipal climate networks have become a collective force impossible to ignore.Cities used to be seen as subordinate in hierarchy to sovereign states not worth much scholarly attention (as evident with the lack of mention in the IRD). Now, cities are increasingly shown to engage themselves independently in international climate issues, as they succeed in participating in transnational municipal networks(Berkeley et al. 2003; Hoff, Gausset & Lex 2020).When gathered in networks, cities become powerful actors. More than half the world’s population live in cities. This number is expected to rise to 70 per PAGE 44


s cent before 2050 (Grønnestad & Nielsen2018). The IPCC Special Report mentions urban development as one of four key areas, where carbon emission reduction can be done to great effect. Cities can take major steps within the system of urbanization without waiting for state initiative. For instance, 27 % of carbon emissions come from the transport sector (IPCC 2018), while there are also high-potential mitigation options in low-energy buildings and reducing food waste. All areas possible to engage with local initiatives (C40 2018). The Paris Agreement Scholars start to recognize the importance of governance from other actors than states through international treaties around the mid to late 00’s. Keohane and Victor label the rise of bottom-up approaches in the climate change regime in that decade a “Cambrian explosion” (2011), while others refer to it as a “groundswell”. At the time of the Kyoto Protocol in 1997, 60 individual climate laws existed on state level. By 2007 the number was 1,200 (Falkner 2016, Jordan et al, 2018). Melica et al. write that since 2005 cities have emerged as the driving force of institutional and governance climate innovation (2018; IPCC 2018), which fits with C40 being formed at the London meeting in October 2005.As the amount of bottom-up initiatives grew during the late 00’s, their influence was finally cemented politically by the 2015 Climate Summit’s Paris Agreement.The main goals set out by the Paris Agreement are to limit the growth of global average temperature to below 2°C by the end of the century and to stop the increase at 1.5°C by 2050, but the real innovative part of the Paris Agreement is the way it plans to meet these targets with voluntary pledges. The Paris approach consolidates a transition of the climate regime from being regulatory to catalytic and facilitative and brings the emergence of transnational, bottom-up climate action initiatives into the heart of the new climate regime (Hale 2016). The Paris Agreement changes the “regulatory” model of climate regime.What that meant is that the treaty no longer creates binding, negotiated emissions targets for states. Instead, the Agreement seeks to create conditions under which all actors may voluntarily, progressively reduce emissions through coordinated policy shifts in a “pledge and review” system. The transition was deemed necessary in the face of a state negotiation gridlock, that had created policy vacuum within international climate change governance(Hale 2016). The Paris Agreement is the first international agreement to bring every large emitting state into the climate change regime by allowing each state to set their own nationally determined contributions, but having all countries recognize the necessity of greenhouse gas neutrality to avoid a global warming above 2° C. Most states are not yet ambitious enough in their pledges for this goal to be met,bu teach state is required to offer their pledges by 2020, while the new regime invites substate actors to help states reach these targets (Hale 2016). Methodology The first part of my analysis is based on a historical institutionalist approach of a single case study of C40. I analyze the formation of the C40 network in 2005 and its later involvement with climate change governance leading up to and during the Paris Climate PAGE 45


Accord in 2015, as highlighted by C40 and IPCC (C40 2018; IPCC 2018). The analysis is based on a framework of transition theory and backed by references to the growing numbers of scholarly research papers on cities as actors within climate change governance leading up to the Paris Agreement(See Keohane & Victor 2011; Falkner 2016; Jordan et al. 2018; IPCC 2018; Kona et al. 2018 and Melica 2018.). The aim of this part of the analysis is to find out to which degree you can argue that the state-led monocentric climate change regime is transitioning into a regime that is polycentric. The second part of the analysis expands into an embedded case study of eight European cities as subunits of analysis within C40 (Scholz & Tietje 2002). The analysis here looks at the quantitative data of cities’reported carbon emission reduction compared to their set goals and those of their respective countries.All city emission data is measured and submitted by the respective cities’ own officials. The numbers are made freely available by C40 on the CDP website (CDP 2019).City population numbers are shown as reported by World Population Review (2019). Country emissions and population numbers shown as measured by the Publications Office of the European Union (Muntean et al. 2018). The aim of this analysis is to answer whether there is sufficient empiric evidence to argue that a polycentric system that includes cities as central actors may produce results that states could not have achieved on their own. C40 was picked as a most-likely case expected to produce positive results. As the network fighting climate change with the most resourceful city members, C40 should be the most likely example to show whether letting cities set more ambitious carbon emission reduction targets than their states could have an effect on a global scale. Subunit cities and their gathered data are shown in the table below.



The subunit cities in the analysis have been chosen on the premise that they have set the same baseline emission year of 1990; that they have reported at least three CO2 emission measurements since 2008; and that their latest submission of emissions is from no earlier than 2014. These measures are taken to provide some ground for comparison,leaving us with the “best practice” examples of European cities that have submitted recent measurements and actively utilize the C40 network. To ensure a common measure of effectiveness that can compare results between member cities and countries, the analysis measures results solely by looking at absolute numerical achievements in tonnes of carbon emission reduction. In the analysis, absolute achievements on carbon emission reductions in member cities since their 1990 baseline emissions are calculated against country results. If the results differ drastically after 2005, this is interpreted as an impact that stems primarily from the rise of new substate actors. The analysis shows whether cities take matter into their own hands and contribute substantially to reducing carbon emissions, when given authority in a climate change regime.The first part of my analysis is based on a historical institutionalist approach of a single case study of C40. The aim of this part of the analysis is to find out to which degree you can argue that the state-led monocentric climate change regime is transitioning into a regime that is polycentric. The second part of the analysis expands into an embedded case study of eight European cities as subunits of analysis within C40 (Scholz & Tietje 2002). The analysis here looks at the quantitative data of cities’ reported carbon emission reduction compared to their set goals and those of their respective countries. All city emission data is measured and submitted by the respective cities’ own officials. The numbers are made freely available by C40 on the CDP website (CDP, 2019).City population numbers are shown as reported by World Population Review (2019). Country emissions and population numbers shown as measured by the Publications Office of the European Union(Muntean et al. 2018). The aim of this analysis is to answer whether there is sufficient empiric evidence to argue that a polycentric system that includes cities as centralactors may produce results that states could not have achieved on their own. Analysis Analysis of transitions

In 2005, London hosted a G20 Summit. Then Mayor of London, Ken Livingstone,observed that climate change was not on the G20 meeting agenda. In response to this governance void within the climate change regime, he invited 18 mayors of the largest cities in the world to London to discuss climate change and how cities can PAGE 47


contribute to carbon emission reduction. As a result, C40 was born. If we look at C40 cities at the beginning of the century as niche actors in a transition framework, then the trend of making city governance and initiatives a fundamental and successful part of the climate change regime can be divided into four sequential phases in time used to identify a regime transition. By looking at the history of the climate change regime,two critical junctures that trigger the transition take-off phase can be identified during the last two decades. First, Ken Livingstone’s invitation of mayors to London during the G-20 meeting of 2005 is the perfect example of a risk-taking innovator acting on the fringe of the state-centric regime within a small and unstable network, as described in theory by Grin et al.(2010). Given leeway by a growing external public dissatisfaction with the lack of collective state action after the Kyoto Protocol, Livingstone became the front runner of a niche that represented an endogenous, innovative alternative system that could challenge the dominant state governance regime on its rules and practices (Kronsell et al. 2019; Grin et al. 2010). While intergovernmental climate debates were stuck, he gathered mayors of the world to progressively intensify climate actions in their respective cities, thus challenging the problem-solving procedure of the current state-centric climate change regime with a bottom-up approach. Capoccia and Kelemen provide a definition of ‘critical junctures’ as “relatively short periods of time during which there is a substantially heightened probability that agents’ choices will affect the outcome of interest” (Capoccia and Kelemen 2007: 348). There is then a benefit to understanding Livingstone’s first C40 meeting then as a critical juncture that started the regime transition’s take-off phase.Since then, there has been a ‘heightened probability’ that cities’ governance action resonate up to higher levels of governance. Nevertheless, the following attempt at a major climate agreement still mainly focused on collective state action.Hale labels the 2009 Copenhagen summit’s failure to find a successor to the Kyoto Protocol as the critical juncture that really forced states to look outwards for new thinking and innovation. After Copenhagen, we see a definitive growth of actors that put their hopes and money in policy tools outside the state treaty process, with a significant amount of these looking towards cities (Hale 2016).Academic interest in “transnational climate governance” also start to increase by then. Shortly after the failed Copenhagen summit, Loorbach writes that central government power and authority to develop and implement policies top-down is decreasing, as more subnational and supranational levels of government are involved (Loorbach 2010). This second critical juncture essentially forces states to include non/substate actors in their regime, verifying the further transition process in the acceleration phase that may be identified with the formulation of The Paris Agreement. Structural changes now become visible, as the agreement introduces a whole new way of conducting global climate governance by being catalytic and facilitative instead of regulatory. It is an evident effort by the state regime to meet outside pressure and solve the climate problem that is its premise of existence. For the negotiations to have come to this point,actually changing the norms of climate governance conduct,there has been a co-evolution process between national PAGE 48


institutions in place and the niche sub-actors such as cities, where they have managed to reinforce each other to co-determine a transition of the state-led governance. In the Paris Agreement, substate actors do not rise to replace state governance, but instead become an integral part of their regime solution (Hale 2016). In this process, the lines become blurred as to whether the driving force is bottom-up approaches pushing for initiative or an orchestration by the international regime to enlist non-state and subnational actors to achieve its governance goals(Dubash et al, 2013: 662 in van Asselt and Zelli 2018).As is recognized in transition theory, the dynamics of new development take place in a complex and interactive process of co-design on both micro-and meso-levels. It makes it hard to determine where in the social setting the changes begin or end.So even while focusing on substate actors, it becomes difficult to isolate their initiative from that of supranational regime entities like the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change(UNFCCC),as its actions may also have orchestrated the 'substantial increase in climate legislation and strategies'in the years leading up to the Paris Accord(ibid.). The effect of this co-design process ultimately leads to a new understanding of climate change governance through the regime, as after the Paris Agreement state actors have a changed perception on how to reach sustainable solutions.The adoption of the agreement has made climate action by substate actors a key instrument in intergovernmental discussions. Essentially, with the interactive, multileveled process of the transition, connections between both international governance and subnational climate governance have been strengthened. Specifically, the Paris Agreement encourages bottom-up approaches by calling for an annual ‘high-level event’ to assess non-state action, promote new initiatives and by appointing high-level officials to actively work on ensuring the successful execution of existing non-state actions (UNFCCC, 2016a in van Asselt and Zelli 2018). This newly constructed perception now utilizes both top-down and bottom-up approaches. Studies looking at just a handful of the initiatives created by cities and companies estimate that these have a mitigation potential of 2.5-4 billion tonnes of CO2 by 2020, the size of India’s annual emission (See Hale 2016; IPCC 2018). Allowing a bottom-up approach project like C40 to do transnational knowledge sharing means providing the necessary degree of independence to conduct separate governance, as emphasized in an ideal polycentric system (Ostrom 2010). The post-Paris climate change regime views substate actors as a core element to meet the goal of 1.5° C(Hale 2016).Thus, the article answers the question, “do we see a transition of climate change governance from state to city?” by arguing that we do see a transition, but it is not a complete transition of power from state to city. The transition is to a governance system found somewhere in between, in a more complex, polycentric system. Analysis of carbon emissions

What remains to be answered is whether the transition has made emission reduction demonstrably more efficient.Looking empirically at emission numbers over time, you would expect to see a notable difference in emissions from before and after the regime starts its transition. If we start by looking at the collective emissions of the EU measured from 19902017, we get the following graph: PAGE 49


i The result is as expected a significant difference in emission reduction, when you compare the 15-year period of 1990-2005 to the 12-year period of most recent measurements in 2005-2017.For EU28 in total, CO2 emissions in 2017 are 20 % lower than in 1990 and 16% less than in 2005. This means that the EU collectively reduced its emissions by four percentage points from around the time of the Kyoto Protocol in the 90’s to 2005 (their collective emissions increase between 2000-2005),while the EU reduced emissions by 16 percentage points from 2005 to when the Paris Agreement was signed in 2015. This same development holds true for almost all subcases presented in Table 1, most of which see their most significant decrease in carbon emissions between 2005-2015. The analysis shows that during the regime’s transition period cities set ambitious goals to reduce their carbon emissions. It is often the case that they are on a better pace to reach their goals than their states, thus proving to be important actors of the climate change regime in their own right. A direct comparison between cities and states should be taken with a grain of salt, as city results are also factored into country measurements. Of course, state emissions are in absolute numbers much higher than their represented cities, so if their emissions rise or fall with a percentage comparable to the presented cities, it does indicate an effect that goes beyond city results in absolute emission numbers.Most states are shown to improve their own results drastically around 2005, with results that go beyond accounting for absorbing the carbon emission reductions of the analyzed cities. This supports the theoretical argument that city actors’ efforts influence higher levels of governance to improve as well (Pinault & Hansen, 2018).The data shows the cities to be comparatively more effective than their states in six out of eight examples. For Copenhagen, Madrid and London, countries follow the reduction trend of their cities, visibly raising their efforts to reduce their emissions after 2005, whilst not reaching as high results(see appendix figures D and E for Copenhagen; F and G for Madrid; N and O for London). In fact, if London has kept their PAGE 50


reduction efforts since their latest 2016 measurements, the city reached its target of 80 % reduction in 2018, 32 years before its goal. There is then a positive correlation between the entrance of cities in a transitioning regime and the comparative effort of countries’ climate policies. Stockholm flatlined around a 31 % reduction since 2012. Still, Sweden is less effective, peaking in 2012 at a 20 % reduction, while afterwards increasing emissions to a 12 % reduction whereas Stockholm maintains its 31 % reduction(see appendix figures J and K). Berlin and Germany stand out by having reduced their emissions more between 1990 and 2005 than since(see appendix figures L and M). Oslois set to reach a 95 % reduction of CO2 emissions by 2031,while Norway continues to raise its emissions through most of the period (see appendix figures H and I).Outliers are Rotterdam and Amsterdam (see appendix figures A, B and C). While the Netherlands continue its emission growth all the way to 2010 before decreasing and flatlining on about 9 % increase in emissions, Rotterdam and Amsterdam are above their baseline emissions with 34 % and 31 % respectively in their latest measurements The article shows a positive correlation between participation in transnational municipal networks and having decreasing carbon emissions. Transnational municipal networks like C40 supposedly have a positive impact on results in the climate change regime, because their members exchange knowledge of policies that effectively reduce emissions. Cities participating in international climate governance through transnational municipal networks go beyond their states’ emission results by learning from each other through their networks (Pinault & Hansen, 2018).).This directly influences both the amount and the quality of climate mitigation policy in associated cities.While the exact size of a spillover effect is unknown, a cautious interpretation of the improved state emission reductions is that major cities, and civil society within them,exert pressure on state governments. This may have had some influence on national climate governance beyond the cities’ own results.According to theory, the transition of the regime to a new system should itself spark increased awareness and allocated resources to improve efforts to do climate change governance (Haas et al. 1993).An exact estimate of how much influence C40 has had on the total European decrease in carbon emissions and through which mechanisms remains unclear. Especially compared to other possible factors not accounted for in the calculations of CO2 emissions. If anything, the large cities’ own carbon reductions are factored in the final calculation of state emission, adding to the bigger picture, whether their actions impact state governance or not.What we can say with certainty from the results is that cities are making an effort;that this is a new effort;and that the effect of the effort is growing.They have become important actors within the climate change regime. What then needs to be considered within the regime is whether substate actions might not be sufficient on their own. Cities can produce results where states fail. And as shown, cities reduce emissions to great effect. Like with Miles et al (2002), the empirical evidence presented here supports the counterfactual argument that without the transitioned regime, the results on climate change would have been worse.The transitioned regime to a polycentric governance system proves to be better, as seen with the represented city carbon reduction efforts, and how states PAGE 51


follow in line with their results, possibly due to endogenous pressure.But even with the regime transition, the current effort is not sufficiently effective to prevent a global warming increase beyond 1.5°C. By the recent 2019 Madrid Climate Change Conference (COP25), states are still emitting high amounts of greenhouse gasses with total emissions increasing worldwide. Even if the current state climate pledges are held, emissions in 2030 will be 38 % higher than required to meet the 1.5°C target, prompting several observers of the conference to note the major disconnect between civil society and policy makers; between bottom-up initiatives and state regime governance (Evans & Gabbatiss 2019). If substate actors have not become a relevant political force in climate change politics on UN level, perhaps the transition has created a regime of polycentric governance within and across states but has failed to reform rules and procedures on a supranational level. The COP meetings are solely for state negotiations, far from substate authority. It is no surprise, then,that COP25 failed to make states deliver promises on their future carbon reduction goals, as only states had a say, negotiating in the same uncertain international arena as always.UN secretary general António Guterres expressed disappointment with the results of COP25, as “the international community lost an important opportunity to show increased ambition” for next year’s ratification of state carbon reduction goals (Evans & Gabbatiss 2019; Kaminski 2019; Keating 2019). Instead, COP25 became the longest meeting on record, almost 44 hours overdue in yet another state negotiation gridlock.This leaves us with a theory that can explain the problems of state-centric governance, a transitioned regime that has brought good counter-results with bottom-up approaches but results that cannot overshadow the continued failure of collective state action. Conclusion State negotiations have proven ineffective on their own. With an offset in realist assumptions, collective action problems are expected, which is why the recent failure of COP25 is no surprise. The lack of sufficient results has caused the scholarly focus to shift towards non/substate actors. In an analysis of the transnational municipal network C40, I argue that substate actors seize this governance vacuum. We see a radical transition from monocentric state regimes to polycentric regimes that bring substate actors to the core of state governance.This analysis on regime change as interactions of international governance against a model of polycentrism expands the utility of adapting a transition theory framework.In a further analysis of a most-likely case of C40 members, I find evidence in support of existing theory of regime transitions. I note that a traditional state model of regulatory collective action has moved to a newer catalytic and facilitative model. The new transitioned regime is more effective than its predecessor. Non/substate actors have huge mitigation potentials. Cities are shown to be capable of ambitious emission reductions and some are already on a strong pace of reduction without involvement of their states. In the empiric data presented, six out of eight cities outperform their states in reducing carbon emissions. Still, the increased regime effectiveness does not meet UN targets. Even in a most-likely case, not all cities reach their goals. Global CO2 emissions are still on the rise, and even he current state pledges are kept, emissions will far exceed the threshold to keep global warming within a rise of 1.5° C above pre-industrial levels, despite cities’ efforts. It PAGE 52


oops back to the realist argument from the start of the article. States are the most important actors in international governance. Even with the emergence of city actors, who may account for large percentages of global potential CO2 emission reductions, states cannot be taken out of the equation. Cities can effectively cut down on emissions by investing in areas such as sustainable transportation and building insulation, but states are responsible for completely different, integral areas of emission, such as the burning of fossil fuels (IPCC 2018). These findings say that while the solution to combat climate change is not statecentric climate meetings like the failed COP25, neither are regimes of cities, despite their climate mitigation potential. It is a notable benchmark that civil society is succeeding in collective action where states fail, but this article only looks as cities, comparing their efforts to those of states. The broader academic approach to polycentric governance includes nonstate actors such as global institutions, NGOs, companies and corporations. All of the above have important climate mitigation potentials of their own. There is no way to make progress towards a sustainable future without extensive participation from actors on all levels. If the Paris Agreement goals are to be met, all actors must be engaged and included in polycentric regime negotiations (Hoff, Gausset & Lex 2020). Appendix


















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EU Agricultural Policies Gone Wrong: Corruption and Degradation of Farmland in Post-socialist Europe Jan ZdrĂĄlek

Introduction Prior to their accession to the European Union (EU) in 2004, many farmers in postsocialist European countries were anxious about the introduction of EU Common Agricultural Policy (CAP). Its system of at times dubiously redistributed subsidies, they argued, could economically harm the agricultural sector. Now, 15 years later, their worries about CAP take a different, environmental, form. Due to the nature of CAP subsidies redistribution in post-socialist Europe, which is dominated by large agricultural businesses connected to the top political levels, the system is viewed as corrupt and the farmland in these countries is at the risk of degradation. This development has farreaching political consequences in Central and Eastern Europe as will be shown on the case of the Czech Republic. This paper will first succinctly overview the purpose of CAP, explain its main objectives and provide the EU side of the argument which is naturally strongly in favor of CAP. It will then highlight the main points of criticism expressed by post-socialist EU countries. The main analysis of CAP in post-socialist Europe will zoom in on the Czech Republic. The Czech prime minister Andrej BabiĹĄ, who has up until recently owned the largest agricultural business in the country Agrofert, had greatly benefited from EU subsidies in the past. He is currently under EU-wide as well as domestic political pressure for both alleged misuse of EU funding and conflict of interests. His case demonstrates the hypothesis that EU agricultural subsidies today underpin a system of quasi modern feudalism in Central and Eastern Europe. PAGE 65


Common Agricultural Policy as the Foundation of the European Project Ravaged by the Second World War, European states had a considerable motivation to pool their resources to overcome the political animosity and economic hardships of the early post-war years. Because agriculture forms a strategic part of the primary sector of each nation-state’s economy, it naturally became one of the crucial areas for cooperation. The European integration process initiated in the middle of the 20th century has had a significant impact on agriculture which in return became one of its most important foundational elements. Today, the so-called Common Agricultural Policy belongs to one of the oldest and most original policies of the European Union. The CAP, initially spearheaded by France, is a genuinely ‘common’ policy in that all of its decision-making originates on the supranational level, i.e. without a direct involvement of EU member states.12 Over the past decades, the purpose of CAP evolved into the three following objectives: 1) to ensure a stable supply of affordable food for EU citizens; 2) to support EU farmers and keep the rural economy alive 3) and to tackle climate change and sustainable management of natural resources. Today, the EU is a leading producer and net exporter of agri-products, employs more than 22 million farmers on 11 million farms, and possesses exceptional resources across the continent. It is in its vital interest to support rural community development and protect and develop the 44 million jobs linked to food and farm industry across the Union. Finally, the EU positions itself as a global leader of sustainable growth which exerts pressure on farmers to protect nature and safeguard biodiversity.3 The funding of the Common Agricultural Policy takes a large portion of the European Union’s budget. The EU budget’s income is composed of EU customs duties on imports, VAT(i)-based resources, GNI(ii)-based resources, and other revenue. In 2018, the budget amounted to roughly $177 billion which is about 1% of EU combined GDP (iii).4 Nearly $65 billion, i.e. approximately 36%, were dedicated to the CAP, as can be seen below in Graph 1.5



The EU support for farmers takes three main forms (please, see Graph 2 above): 1) income support through direct payments which ensures income stability but at the same time conditions farmers to behave environmentally friendly and to deliver some public goods, such as taking care of the countryside; 2) market measures deals with volatile market situations, such as a sudden drop in demand due to a health scare; 3) rural development measures address the specific needs and challenges facing rural areas. The first two categories are financed through the European Agricultural Fund (EAGF), whereas the third one is funded through the European Agricultural Fund for Rural Development (EAFRD).8 Criticism of CAP – Past and Present The Common Agricultural Policy has been the subject of controversy ever since its launch in 1962. This controversy, as many other EU policies, is largely inherent – 28iv different member states with different interests and different climate conditions have to come to an agreement on the optimal coordination and funding redistribution of a key sector. However, setting these inherent problems aside, it is not too difficult to point out some of the lasting flaws of CAP.

i VAT - value added tax ii GNI - gross national income iii GDP - gross domestic product PAGE 67


One of the biggest and earliest problems was overproduction leading to excess supply. This either resulted in wasting the products or dumping them on developing markets. Free market without such heavy subsidization, critics argued, would ensure a more effective allocation of resources. The so-called Mansholt Plan (1972) meant to bring remedy was overly ambitious and was largely watered down by the member states.9 The second substantial issue arose in the 1990’s when the world trade liberalized as a result of the so-called Uruguay Round of GATTv negotiations. The EU could no longer as easily keep up with world prices and was gradually forced to increase its subsidies to European farmers. The EU Commissioner for Agriculture Ray McSharry conducted an evaluation of CAP’s objectives which revealed that 20% of all farmers receive 80% of all subsidies. McSharry, therefore, introduced a reform which was supposed to adapt the CAP to the changing world market and reduce some of the inequalities. The 1992 reform was largely successful, however, it greatly contributed to the boom in CAP expenditure which consequently became one of the largest items on EU’s budget.10 The third criticism relates to low competitiveness of European farmers and the concern surrounding the momentous decision to enlarge the Union from 15 to 25 states in May 2004. The Fischler Reform (2003) was designed to tackle these challenges. It cut the links between subsidies and production and farmers began to receive direct income support. The latest CAP reform was adopted in 2013, just before the approval of the next Multi-annual Financial Frameworkvi (2014-2020). It was criticized for its negligible effect and dubbed as a wasted chance to reform one of the most controversial EU policies.11 The European Commission, i.e. the most important political player in implementing CAP, is aware of the sensitivity of the Common Agricultural Policy and attempts to deflect the criticism. It argues that farmers across the EU should be supported because 1) despite their importance in food production, their income is 40% lower compared to nonagricultural income; 2) agriculture depends more than any other sectors on climate; 3) the process of delivering a final product is long (e.g. depends on seasons) and therefore there is an inevitable gap between supply and demand. These are powerful arguments, however, they do not fully capture the problems CAP is causing in Central and Eastern Europe. These issues unfortunately go far beyond a simple cost analysis debate – they have become part of the political sphere and pose a threat to democracy in Europe.12 Case Study: Corruption and Degradation of Farmland in the Czech Republic As mentioned above, the European Union paid out $65 billion in subsidies to European farmers in 2018 which is three times as much as the United States in that same year. The support for EU farmers was one of the foundational policies through the European integration; it was also one of the most disputed. The controversy of the program has recently reappeared with the discovery of the misuse of EU funds in Central and Eastern Europe.



Hungary, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic are all relatively new member states and net receivers from the EU budget. They all profit from generous agricultural subsidies which are aimed at supporting local farmers and developing rural areas. The problem is that large sums end up in the pockets of few. The CAP is exploited by the same anti-democratic forces that threaten the EU. In Hungary, prime minister Viktor Orbán shrewdly uses the subsidies to set up a patronage system that enriches his friends on one hand and punishes his enemies on the other. In Slovakia, a young investigative journalist Ján Kuciak was murdered in early 2018 because he was looking into the involvement of Italian criminal organizations in the Slovak farm industry and their ties to top Slovak politicians who benefited from subsidies. In the Czech Republic, the current prime minister and former finance minister Andrej Babiš and his business Agrofert up until recently regularly profited from the CAP system. Just in 2018, Agrofert collected up to $42 million in subsidies.13 Babiš, a billionaire of Slovak origin, founded his political movement ANOvii in 2011. He successfully campaigned for the first time in the 2013 Czech parliamentary elections when ANO secured the 2nd place as well as a position in the coalition government together with the social democrats and the Christian democrats. Babiš became the finance minister at the time and had direct control over the distribution of EU agricultural subsidies in the country. In the 2017 parliamentary elections, ANO won a significant plurality of all votes and Babiš became the prime minister of a minority coalition government with the social democrats and a tacit support of the communist party.14 Ever since taking up a significant political role in 2013, Babiš’s business began gaining more money from EU subsidies. The billionaire denies any wrongdoing – he argues that he put his company in a trust fund in the beginning of 2018 when he was appointed prime minister (even though this was after his 4-year tenure as finance minister). However, the European Commission’s audit report from May 2019 shows that his effort was unsatisfactory.15 The preliminary report assesses that the Czech prime minister was in a conflict of interest despite Agrofert being put in a trust fund and that his former company will have to return some subsidies it had previously received. Paradoxically, the Commission will first want the money from the Czech government who will then have to reclaim it from Agrofert. At the moment, Mr. Babiš is the Czech government indeed. The Commission has already confirmed its preliminary findings in its final audit in December 2019.16 Aside from corruption, there could be another, environmental, dimension to Babiš’s story. His company Agrofert is infamous for growing a specific type of crop – the oilseed rape. This bright yellow plant cannot be overlooked when driving through the Czech countryside. The motivation for growing oilseed rape ironically comes from EU environmental policies which encourage the cultivation of crops which can be used for vegetable oil. The farmers and the environmentalists are divided in opinion with regard to the oilseed rape. On the one hand, the farmers argue that it improves the soil’s PAGE 69


quality and serves well as a pre-crop or inter-crop, i.e. a crop that is used before or in between growing different types of crops such as wheat. On the other hand, the environmentalists argue that oilseed rape is a weak crop that requires too many chemicals and that, in the long term, the soil suffers from this treatment much more. 1718 As of now, there has not been made any definitive study as to the costs and benefits of the oilseed rape, however, the topic raises questions and concerns, especially from the environmental community in the Czech Republic and across Europe. The main point is that the way the subsidy system works now encourages large agricultural companies to grow monocultures which increasingly burden the soil and potentially impact its long-term fertility. Conclusion The Common Agricultural Policy was set up in the European Union with the best intentions: to support farmers and rural development and, strategically, to ensure food security for European citizens. CAP takes a significant portion of the EU budget and redistributes subsidies to farmers on the basis of how much land they farm. The main problem with Central and Eastern Europe is that prior to 1989 much of the land was owned by the all-powerful state. In the 1990’s, the newly democratic states began to return the land to its previous rightful owners or to auction it off. This is where much land either directly or indirectly ended up in the hands of few. These people continue to benefit not only from the land itself but also through the system of EU subsidies. Even though the absolute numbers mentioned in this paper may seem negligible in comparison to other states’ budgets and GDPs, they still matter. They point to an easy exploitation of CAP and a corrupt nature of some Central and Eastern European governments. Furthermore, this exploitation could have a long-term environmental impact because, as it stands now, it encourages growing monoculture crops, such as the oilseed rape, which gradually degrade the soil. In the case of the Czech Republic, the lead goes all the way up to the prime minister who not only owned the largest agricultural business in the country but was also in a position of power to decide where the subsidies would go. As such, the biggest subsidy program in the world – the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy – continues to fail in its basic good intentions. Works Cited

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2 European Commission. Aims of the Common Agricultural Policy. 2019. 3 Ibid, The CAP in Practice. 4 European Commission. Annual EU Budget 2018. 2019. 5 European Commission. CAP Financing. 2019. 6 Author’s own, based on: 7 Author’s own, based on: 8 Ibid. 9 Hynousova, p. 8-10. 1 0 Hynousova, p. 18-19. 11 Hynousova, p. 27. 12 European Commission. The Common Agricultural Policy: Separating Facts from Fiction. 2019. 13 Apuzzo, Matt, Selam Gebrekidan, Benjamin Novak. The Money Farmers: How Oligarchs and Populists Milk the E.U. for Millions. The New York Times. Nov 3, 2019. 14 Riha, Matej. Agrofert od vstupu Babiše do politiky dostal na dotacích sedm milliard [Agrofert gained 7 billion CZK in subsidies since Babis entered politics]. Dec 8, 2018. 15 Lopatka, Jan. Czech PM found in conflict of interest by EU Commission: report. Reuters. May 31, 2019.



16 Rankin, Jennifer. Czech PM accused of conflict of interest over EU funds to businesses. The Guardian. Nov 30 2018. 17 Kratochvilova, Michaela. Řepka jako symbol zla. Jak ohrožuje krajinu a čím naopak pomáhá, vysvětluje agrární analytik [Oilseed rape as a symbol of evil. How it endangers and how it helps the countryside, explains an agrarian analyst]. May 22, 2017. 18 CTK [Czech Press Agency]. Repka zkvalitnuje pudu, brani se zemedelci. Neni ji tolik, je jen prilis videt, tvrdi. [Oilseed rape increases the soil’s quality, say farmers. There is not too much of it, it is just easy to see, they claim.]. May 7, 2019.



III. Growing European Economic Challenges Chair: Ryan Nabil, Yale University Presenters: Ivana Damjanovic (Australian National University), Noe Hinck (University of Oxford), Ryan Nabil (Yale University) Discussant: David Cameron, Professor of Political Science, Yale University

EU trade and investment agreements with ‘like-minded’ partners: acting together in facing global challenges? (Abstract) Ivana Damjanovic

The European welfare state model has fostered social, environmental, health and consumer policies, achieving a high level of protection. Sustainable development (Art. 3 TEU) that balances economic growth, environmental protection and social justice is one of the key objectives of the EU, implemented also in EU external trade and investment policy (CJEU Opinion 2/15). The EU is currently negotiating progressive FTAs with Australia and New Zealand. Already concluded comprehensive FTA with Canada includes sustainable development commitments and a new adjudication system for investment disputes, replacing the controversial investor-State dispute settlement (ISDS). In implementing new standards in its bilateral agreements, the EU acts as an entrepreneur of norms in the field of international trade and investment, intending to strike a balance between free trade and protections for investors, and the values and protective standards enshrined in EU treaties. FTAs offer for the EU an opportunity to influence the trade agenda of its ‘like-minded’ partners, which has been primarily focused on trade. This paper explores how are political messages of like-mindedness implemented in respective legal standards and what are the potential implications of the existing differences between the EU and its like-minded partners in addressing emerging global challenges, such as climate change.



The EU’s Institutional Advantages in Negotiating Agreements: A Case Study of the Negotiations of the EU-Japan Economic and Strategic Partnership Agreements Noe Hinck

Introduction: EU and/or its 28 Member States? In the midst of an eroding rules-based international trade system, the European Union (EU) has continued to strengthen its economic relations with important partners across the world: in the last five years, the EU has signed eleven trade deals.1 The majority of these deals carried substantial political significance, reflected in complementary political cooperation agreements, such as Association Agreements or, in some instances, Strategic Partnership Agreements. While the combination of the economic and political dimension in foreign policy creates a more secure and stable environment for the EU (Kirshner, 1997; Bayne and Woolcock, 2011), the current broad understanding of the EU’s institutional composition complicates this picture. Scholars have exhaustively criticised two aspects of EU foreign relations: the lack of European integration due to national sovereignty claims in the foreign policy realm(Hoffmann, 1966, 1995; Moravcsik, 1993), and the consequential lack of coherence among the actors within the EU –the EU institutions and the member states(Hill, Vanhoonacker & Smith, 2017; Drieskens, 2015; Gebhard, 2017).Thus, the question arises why, despite its multi-level nature, the EU can successfully secure politico-economic agreements with third states. Conducting a case study of the negotiations of the EU-Japan Economic Partnership Agreement (EPA) and Strategic Partnership Agreement(SPA), this paper argues that not all EU member states have simply delegated all authority to the EU level but that some support the EU institutions in its negotiations through parallel bilateralism with Japan, adding value to the conclusion of the EU-Japan EPA and SPA. Since the beginning of the negotiations between the EU and Japan, the number of high-level officials from the EU member states’ cabinets bilaterally meeting with their Japanese counterparts has increased significantly. In these meetings, officials advocate specific issues to support the EU institutions’ negotiation efforts.Moreover, Japan’s eagerness to conclude the agreement creates demand from its side to open bilateral channels for negotiations. The paper proceeds in the following manner: the first section outlines the current academic debate on the EU as an actor in international relations, contrasting the assessment of the EU’s performance in trade issues with that in political relations with third states.The second section discusses the hypothesis and alternative explanation, theoretical framework, and case selection. The third section presents empirical evidence on the 1. Ukraine DCFTA and AA (2014), Moldova DCFTA and AA, Georgia DCFTA and AA, Kosovo SAA (2016), South African Development Community Members EPA, Ghana EPA, Ecuador FTA, Canada CETA and SPA, Japan EPA and SPA (2018), Singapore FTA, Vietnam FTA (2019). PAGE 74


change in intensity of relations between EU Member States and Japan as a consequence of commencing the EPA and SPA negotiations.The fourth section introduces high-level bilateral meeting summaries and statements by EU institution, member state, and Japanese government officials that support the quantitative findings of the previous section. Lastly, the paper concludes with a recommendation for policy makers. Pushing back against the greater theoretical assumption about the EU’s inefficiencies in foreign policy, this paper highlights the EU and its member states’ proactive efforts in partnering with a like-minded partner in Asia. The findings also inform the EU’s potential for creating a network for its economic security in an increasingly unstable international political economy. A Janus-faced EU? EU institutions and member states in trade and foreign policy Since the beginning of European integration, scholars have distinguished between the European Community’s capacity as a trading power and that as a political actor in international relations.This view finds its roots in intergovernmentalist EU integration theories, which argue that integration only occurs in areas of low politics that do not impinge on national sovereignty, such as commercial policy, but fails in high politics areas, such as foreign policy (Hoffmann, 1966, 1995; Moravcsik, 1993). The founding treaties of the EU have supported this assumption as EU competences differ in trade and foreign policy: the former enjoys exclusive EU competence while the latter falls under shared competence between the EU and its member states. The scholarship argues that these different institutional logics have created a “hybrid” actor in foreign policy (Smith, 2018) and hinder efficient and effective policy making due to alack of coherence or internal cohesiveness (Hill, Vanhoonacker & Smith, 2017; Drieskens, 2015; Benson-Rea & Shore, 2012; Gstöhl, 2011; Gebhard, 2017; Bretherton and Vogler, 2000; Meunier and Nicolaïdis, 2006; Bayne and Woolcock, 2011). Case studies on the relationship between the EU and China (Smith, 2014; 2016) support this claim and emphasise that the authority struggle undermines decision-making and negotiation processes required for effectiveness.The contrast between the two faces of the EU in international affairs problematises its perceived appearance, leading to the conclusion that the EU is a strong economic but weak political actor. More recently, scholars have acknowledged that the line between economics and politics abroad is blurry, as the stability of the market involves serious security implications and economic might decides international status (Bayne and Woolcock, 2011; Smith, 2018; Meunier and Nicolaïdis, 2006). Nonetheless, this distinction of the policy areas and the juxtaposing policy making processes demonstrate the importance of understanding how the institutions and member states relate to each other. To better understand the intra-EU relationship, scholars have employed the principalagent (PA) model (Pollack, 1997; Bayne and Woolcock, 2011; Dür and Elsig, 2011; Delreux and Adriaensen, 2017; Dijkstra, 2017). The PA model treats the member states as PAGE 75


the principals and the EU institutions as the agents. Principals delegate powers to an agent because the agent may have specific expertise, enhance collective decision-making, and/or increase credibility. In order to prevent an agent’s compromising autonomous behaviour, principals can reduce agent discretion and employ ex ante (selection and definition of mandate) and ex post (sanctioning) control mechanisms as well as monitoring devices(reporting)during the execution of the delegated task. While the classical PA model does not explain the direct involvement of principals in the agent’s execution of its mandate, Dijkstra (2017) introduces the notion of “non-exclusive delegation” in diplomacy, in which principals delegate a function to the agent but also continue to carry out these functions themselves in order to tighten their control over the agent. All of these studies, however, fail to theorise how principals and agents behave when their objectives completely align, beyond the regular delegation and discretion framework. They assume that principals idly wait as the agent fulfills its tasks. Theory, Concepts, and Case Selection This paper aims to begin to fill the above-mentioned gaps in the literature: 1) the interactions between EU institutions and member states in trade and foreign policy issues and 2) the fading line between trade policy and foreign policy. More broadly, it strives to answer the question why, despite its multi-level nature, the EU can successfully secure politico-economic agreements with third states, stemming from the argument that the multi-level institutional structure hinders effective foreign policy making. The PA model’s “exclusive delegation”and Dijkstra’s (2017) added concept of “nonexclusive delegation” provide a useful starting point in conceptualising member state behaviour vis-à-vis EU institutions when they delegate powers. This paper modifies Dijkstra’s framework by applying of this model outside the diplomacy field to trade and foreign policy and the motivation of direct member state involvement not being controlling but supporting the agent. The different models can be visualised as follows:



To understand the intra-EU process leading to successful trade and foreign policy outcomes, this paper tests the modified PA model against the classical PA model. Both independent variables (X) –Exclusive Delegation and Parallel Support–lead to the same outcome (Y) conclusion of an agreement with a third state. Inspecting the proposed relationship in more detail, the following observations are expected: in the case of exclusive delegation, principals (member states)delegate powers to the agent (EU institution) who engages with the third state, and principals do not additionally interact with the third state. Therefore, according to this model, one expects to observe no change in the frequency of bilateral meetings between principals and the third state, as one can assume that conventional diplomatic relations resume, or a decrease in the frequency of bilateral meetings, as the agent takes over politicoeconomic agenda items from the principal. Additionally, the continuing bilateral meetings do not cover any of the topics discussed by the agent with the third state.In the case of Parallel Support, principals actively support the agent through deliberations in parallel bilateral meetings with the third state.One expects to observe either an increase in the frequency of bilateral meetings, as a way of socialising their third state counterparts, or no change in the frequency but an increase in the saliency of EU-third state matters on the bilateral agenda.

Extensive politico-economic agreements between the EU and third states are still quite rare. Two major agreements falling into this category are the EPAs and SPAs with Canada, negotiated from 2011 to 2014, and with Japan, from 2011 to 2018. For the EPA negotiations, the European Commission (EC) takes the lead, whereas the External Action Service (EEAS) heads the SPA negotiations. In both instances, the member states delegate the authority over negotiations to the EU level. This paper focuses on the agreements with Japan, as the EU member states enjoy long-standing friendly relations with Japan and have a well-established diplomatic presence in Tokyo. The uncontroversial nature of the partnership and absence of any conflict between the member states regarding their respective relationships with Japan makes these negotiations as an ideal test case to see whether member states exhibit behaviour as predicted by the Parallel Support hypothesis. Japan also considers the EU as a legitimate interlocutor speaking on behalf of its 28 member states(I#9). Crucially, the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs keeps a highly transparent account of its activity online and annually publishes its Diplomatic Bluebook containing details on high-level bilateral meetings. PAGE 77


The analysis proceeds in two steps. On the basis of data on high-level bilateral meetings between Japan and member states between the years 2002 and 2018, the first part of this study conducts a descriptive analysis, examining changes in the frequency of the bilateral meetings since the commencement of EPA and SPA negotiations with Japan and the main driving member states of this change. The second step inspects meeting summaries and interviews with diplomatic officials in Tokyo and Brussels who were present or involved in either bilateral meetings EU-Japan negotiations. These sources provide insights into the saliency of the EPA and SPA issues in bilateral meetings. High-Level Bilateral Meetings between EU Member States and Japan For understanding how the bilateral contact between the individual member states and Japan intensified over time, the frequency of high-level bilateral meetings (HLBM) serves as a proxy for the participants’ dedication to and willingness to invest in bilateral relations.This paper defines HLBM as meetings between (deputy) heads of government, (deputy) heads of state, foreign ministers, other ministers in the government, and heads of legislative branches. Certainly, HLBM do not account for the entirety of points of contact between two states–working group level meetings and unofficial exchanges between interest groups producing ideas that disseminate take place constantly. Due to the regularity as well as advantages of the secrecy of meetings for negotiations(Lewis, 1998; Leino, 2017), these meetings are rarely publicised, making it difficult to capture the true intensity of bilateral contact. At the same time, capturing this number may also prove counterproductive as a high number can represent multiple rounds of talks due to strong disagreements or due to the comprehensiveness of cooperation; without any insights on the content of the meetings, their frequency alone cannot reveal anything about the nature of the relationship. HLBM, however,require a high degree of preparation(Weilemann, 2000), and media outlets as well as domestic legislative bodies scrutinise them. Therefore, their transparency not only informs the public of the state of the bilateral relationship, but their frequency also represents the mutual attribution of importance to the relationship. This study presents and uses its own, novel data set recording all HLBM between all 28 EU member states and Japan in the years from 2002 to 2018. It captures the HLBM well before the announcement of the negotiations of the EU-Japan partnership agreements at the EU-Japan Summit in 2011 (Council of the European Union, 2011)and sets the end date after the official conclusion of the agreement negotiations–for the EPA on 8 December 2017, and for the SPA on 16 February 2018. In total, 830 HLBM took place in the abovementioned time frame, mainly gathered from the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs’annually published Diplomatic Bluebook and archive of press releases on meetings.Where the Diplomatic Bluebook and the archive showed inconsistencies, additional research in the archives of the Japanese parliament or EU member states’ government websites was undertaken. For each meeting, the data set specifies the exact date and location of the meeting, the position, function (if applicable), and last name of the



Japanese or European member of government2, the EU member state status at the time of the meeting, year of accession, and currency at the time of the meeting.Additionally, using the World Bank’s data set on GDP, the data set includes the EU member state’s GDP and Japan’s GDP at the time of the meeting.3 In essence, this paper uses this data set to conduct a descriptive analysis of the HLBM in order to understand the changing dynamics between the EU member states in relation to Japan before and after the commencement of EU negotiations. While the data provides indepth information on trends in HLBM, it bears an inferential limitation that requires consideration: external or internal shock that attract international attention, either encouraging or discouraging HLBM. For example, the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake followed by tsunamis and the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Disaster devastated Japan, paralysing the government apparatus for some time. At the same time, states around the world issued warnings to its citizens to avoid travelling to Japan during the time of crisis. Hence, the weeks following the disaster on March 11, 2011 do not see Japan engaging in HLBM.4 Similarly, after the British referendum on its exit from the EU on June 23, 2016, Japan increased its contact with both the United Kingdom and the remaining 27 EU member states to obtain updates and information on mitigating potential negative effects of Brexit on the Japanese economy. As global issues constantly arise in the international community, this data set does not control for them. Ultimately, this study regards the decision to have a HLBM as the calculated sum of issues pertinent to both parties, which includes equally both these internal and external shocks and the ongoing EU-Japan negotiations. As the testing framework (Figure 2) illustrates, each framework has its own set of assumptions about the frequency of HLBM. The Exclusive Delegation hypothesis predicts either no change or a decrease in the frequency of meetings, whereas the Parallel Support hypothesis expects either no change or an increase. Additionally, it has to be noted that one can assume that smaller member states possess less capabilities and instruments for meeting Japan frequently than larger member states or other member states with longstanding relations and established diplomatic networks with Japan. While, in the first instance,it does not directly relate to the main argument of this paper, revealing what kind of EU member states exhibit a significant change in their engagement in HLBM informs the potential motives and the second part of the analysis –the inspection of meeting outcomes and interviews with diplomatic officials. 2. If the meeting takes place in Japan, the position of the European member of government is given. All else, the position of the Japanese member of government is given. Only the information on the visiting partner is given due to the burden being on the visiting and not the receiving partner, more appropriately reflecting the importance of the meeting. In meetings taking place in neither partners’ home country, the meeting partners are of the same position (i.e., Japanese prime minister meets German chancellor). 3. For a more detailed summary of the data set code book, see appendix. 4. The first bilateral meeting after March 11, 2011 was on March 27 by the Latvian Foreign Minister Rinkevics followed by the Bulgarian head of its legislative branch Tsacheva on April 9. PAGE 79


Looking at the annual number of meetings from 2002 to 2018, one observes an increase in the frequency of HLBM, but only with select member states(see Figure 3). In this time period, the four largest member states by population and GDP –the United Kingdom, France, and Germany–met significantly more often with their Japanese counterparts than the rest.On average, British high-level officials met 7.06 times, French 6.51 times, and German 5.14 times per year with Japanese high-level officials.The three giants are followed by Italy with 2.79, Lithuania with 1.92, and Spain with 1.48 times per year.While the size of the member states appears to be associated with the high HLBM numbers,Lithuania –the member state with the fifth smallest GDP in the EU –ranks fifth highest. Most member states, however, do not meet with Japan as often: including Lithuania and Spain,most meet less than twice a year with Japan, and seven member states less than once a year. Comparing the data from before with that from after the 2011 EU-Japan Summit highlights a meaningful increase in the frequency of HLBM after the announcement of the commencement of EPA and SPA negotiations (see Figure 4). From 2002 to 2010, the United Kingdom led the HLBM with Japan with an average of 5.95 meetings per year, followed by France with 4.99 and Germany with 4.46 meetings per year. Italy, on fourth place, kept significantly less contact with Japan, with only 2.23 meetings per year on average, which is only half of Germany’s value. All other member states rarely meet with Japan, as 13 states meet less than once per year. From 2011 onwards, for the duration of the negotiations between the EU and Japan, the average of HLBM per year increased for 22 member states –most noticeably in the three member states which enjoyed frequent meetings already before the summit. Now, France and the United Kingdom both meet with Japan 8.2 times per year on average, seeing an increase of 3.62 and 2.67 respectively. Germany’s average number of HLBM per year with Japan increased by 1.63 to 6.09 times per year. The largest change in frequency occurred in the HLBM between Japan and Lithuania. Although they met only 1.06 times per year on average pre-2011 summit, this number increased by 2.06 to 3.12 times per year on average from 2011 to 2018. These findings suggest a split between the member states regarding the change in their relations with Japan. On the one hand, large member states, such as the United Kingdom, France, and Germany, proactively engage with Japan and intensify this link after EUJapan negotiations start.On the other hand, a majority of the member states remain diplomatically passive and do not conduct significant direct bilateral meetings with their Japanese counterparts. For the above-mentioned hypotheses, these findings cannot eliminate either explanation. The Parallel Support hypothesis appears to hold for larger member states, as they see an increase in the HLBM frequency. In contrast, either Parallel Support or Exclusive Delegation can apply to smaller member states as they mostly do not change their engagement patterns with Japan. This split may be due to differences in history and politico-economic interests and differences in financial and human resources. Within this general observation, however, Lithuania stands out, as it demonstrates an increase in HLBM with Japan despite being a small member state.







The next section supplements the quantitative data with contextual information, synthesising a more complete picture of the dynamics between the member states and the EU institutions in foreign policy.The study compares the meeting summaries of Japan’s HLBM with France and with Greece in order to assess the saliency of EU issues to determine which hypothesis holds. France represents the large member states,and Greece the small member states (with a decreasing frequency of HLBM). Further, it uses interview data to provide a better understanding of the relationship between the member states and the EU institutions. Talking Trade with Member States Tracing whether and how the member states and Japan raise the EU-Japan negotiations on the EPA and/or SPA in their HLBM provides a more substantial meaning to the number of HLBM shown in the descriptive data analysis.The interview responses of officials involved in this process adds to understanding the actors’ perceptions of each other, their intentions, and their dynamic relationship in the negotiation process. The Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs publishes brief yet comprehensive summaries of all HLBM, on which this analysis is based. Moreover, this study conducted nine anonymous interviews with officials from the member states, the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the European External Action Service, and the European Commission’s DG TRADE (see Appendix 2). While this data cannot prove a causal link between the member states’ own initiative in conducting HLBM to (not) support the EU institutions in their work, it can illustrate that, if demand for selective negotiations exist on either side and the other side is receptive to these, then EU-Japan negotiations can extend to bilateral member stateJapan channels. Therefore, if EU-Japan negotiations are highly salient in member stateJapan HLBM, the Parallel Support hypothesis cannot be confirmed but the Exclusive Delegation hypothesis can be rejected. In their HLBM, Japan and Greece did not discuss the ongoing EU-Japan negotiations in detail. Traditionally, Japan and Greece enjoyed good but not wide-ranging relations with each other, mainly based on trade and tourism. After the global financial crisis, however, Greece’s financial breakdown in the consequential European sovereign debt crisis led to a dramatic decline in both trade and tourism, pushing its exchange with Japan into the background (MOFA, 2018a). During the four HLBM that took place since the EU-Japan summit in 2011,the partners mentioned the EPA twice briefly, but the majority of their meetings revolved around Greece’s progress in rehabilitating from its government-debt crisis and a few points on maritime cooperation. At Deputy Foreign Minister Yamane’s state visit to Greece on July 13 and 14, 2012, he met with Finance Minister Stournaras and Deputy Foreign Minister Kourkoulas. Most of the meeting consisted of Japanese questions regarding Greece’s efforts to recover from the financial crisis and the general condition of the European market. Kourkoulas raised the point that Greece would welcome Japanese investment and tourism, to which Yamane replied that a quick agreement in EPA negotiations would certainly help (MOFA, 2012).Japanese and Greece foreign ministers



met again on January 16, 2017, and on January 16, 2018, but did not address any EUJapan issues (MOFA, 2017; 2018b). After the conclusion of the EU-Japan negotiations, at a meeting between Deputy Foreign Minister Nakane and Deputy Foreign Minister Katougraloson July 30, 2018, Katougralos commented that he was pleased to see Greece’s completion of the emergency loan programme coincide with the conclusion and implementation phase of the EU-Japan EPA (MOFA, 2018c). For neither Japan nor Greece, the EU-Japan negotiations were a priority on the bilateral level. In stark contrast, French and Japanese high-level officials extensively discuss specific issues of EU-Japan negotiations in a bilateral format throughout the entire negotiation process.Both France and Japan regard their partnership as ‘exceptional’ (France Diplomatie, 2018)and meet often in bilateral and multilateral fora to consult on security, defence, climate, economy, and global issues (MOFA, 2019b). In over 70 HLBMafter the 2011 EUJapan summit, almost every agenda included the EPA and/or SPA negotiations. Specific issues discussed between the two partners included non-tariff barriers, government procurement, Japanese import restrictions on French beef, and European import restrictions on food products from the Fukushima prefecture (MOFA, 2019a). At the meeting between Prime Minister Kan and President Sarkozy on May 26, 2011, Sarkozy specifically asked Kan for Japan to reconsider non-tariff barriers on imports of French beef in the EU-Japan EPA negotiations (MOFA, 2011a). This discussion continued into the meeting between the new Japanese Prime Minister Noda and Prime Minister Fillon on October 23, 2011, in which Fillon expressed the French government’s commitment to the EPA but warned that a part of the French market voiced its reservations, to which Noda responded that they had to work on negotiating non-tariff barriers as well as regulatory reforms. Fillon then added that he would also appreciate to see a resumption of Japanese import of French beef, and Noda replied that Japan would consider a reevaluation of the dangers of BSE (“mad cow disease”)given the availability of new technology and research data (MOFA, 2011b). On January 24, 2014, in a meeting between the Foreign Ministers Kishida and Fabius, Fabius thanked Kishida for lifting the import restrictions on French beef in the EU-Japan EPA negotiations (MOFA, 2014). This exchange shows how small-scale single-issue negotiations regarding issues pertaining to the EPA play out on the bilateral level between Japan and a relevant member state. In this particular instance, France appears to have the upper hand, able to extract concessions from Japan for favourable conditions in the EPA negotiations. Japan’s willingness to compromise in favour of support concurs with its image of France as being the main driver and influencer of the European Union (MOFA, 2019b). Concerning the entire EPA and SPA negotiation process between the EU and Japan, officials employed at participating institutions highlight that the significant and urgent security implications of concluding a comprehensive politico-economic agreement pressed Japan to open all channels available to the EU,and the EU and member states to be receptive to such flexible negotiation tactics. The interviewees from the European External Action Service,DG Trade, and some member states explain that the opening of negotiations of the EU-Korea free trade agreement in 2007 and increasing pressure from PAGE 84


the United States mattered greatly in initiating and accelerating the Japanese negotiation efforts (I1, I2, I3, I4, I7). While Japan sought a comprehensive agreement, it struggled with the rigidity of the EU’s positions on issues, as many of them required consultations and renegotiations with all 28 member states (I7, I8, I9). Thus, upon asking the question on how Japan chooses which actor within the EU to approach regarding specific issues, an interviewee from the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs prompted that “member states remain member states”, explaining that long-standing, important bilateral ties or member states with strong interests take priority (I8). A different official stated that on general issues, Japan is receptive to whoever approaches them – whether it is an EU institution or a member state (I9). A member state diplomat corroborated this claim, saying that “the whole process is like patch work”, in which member states and EU institutions possess assets respectively(I6). Taking advantage of Japan’s indiscriminate use of these assets, DG Trade and the member states with scheduled HLBM with Japan consult each other on what statements to make and position to take on behalf of each other (I4). Japan’s ambiguous understanding and perception of the EU institutions and the member states’ division of labour allowed the EU to strategically employ its multifaceted institutional structure to reach a satisfactory agreement. Looking at the content of the HLBM between Japan and France and Greece, and the insights of functionaries involved in these HLBMand the EU-Japan negotiations,Japan approaches the different players in the process according to who it deems most relevant to the pertinent issue. The member states are receptive to and make use of Japan’s approach, as member states welcome discussions in bilateral formats, supporting the EU, although only member states with specific issues or interests at stake engage proactively. The comparative analysis of France’s and Greece’s HLBM with Japan emphasise that, depending on the historical bilateral relationship with Japan as well as specific interests in the EU-Japan EPA and/or SPA, member states proactively support the EU institutions in their negotiation work. While member states appear to endorse bilateral formats, too, the interviews have revealed that considerable demand for these channels also exists on the Japanese side. These findings singularly reject neither hypothesis but propose a combination of both, in which the presence or absence of specific interests or longstanding diplomatic ties condition Parallel Support or Exclusive Delegation, respectively. Conclusion: Institutional Advantages of the EU in Foreign and Trade Policy This case study of the inter-institutional dynamics of the EU and the individual involvement of the separate EU actors in the negotiation process of the EU-Japan EPA and SPA tested the Exclusive Delegation and Parallel Support hypotheses by employing descriptive statistical analysis and qualitative analysis of HLBM summaries and interviews. It has found that the frequency of HLBM increased substantially for select member states, and that these member states support EU-Japan negotiations by discussing specific contentious issues in a bilateral format. Further, it reveals that Japan appreciates the extensions of negotiations with the EU institutions to the bilateral member state level. It concludes that a combination of both hypotheses is PAGE 85


required for understanding member state behaviour. More broadly, this study finds that the EU’s institutional framework including both supranational and national actors does not necessarily hinder successful foreign policy outcomes, undermining the harsh criticisms from scholars.Moreover, it emphasises how the diversity among the EU member states can transform into valuable assets in the international realm. These findings bear an implication for the EU’s strategies in future negotiations of complex politico-economic agreements:the EU and member states can divide the negotiation work according to their respective expertise and strengths. For example, member states with the highest stakes in the automotive industry can, after consulting and coordinating with the EU and other member states in Brussels, bilaterally negotiate specific provisions with the third state. Moreover, if EU-third state negotiations face a deadlock,member states with traditionally deep relations with the third state can step up and mediate. This strategy will allow for a swifter conclusion of comprehensive agreements. This improvement could significantly advance the EU’s trade network, embedding it deeper into the international political economy and thus more effectively shielding it from unprecedented protectionist shocks that could harm the EU’s economy and security. Bibliography Bayne, N., & Woolcock, S. (2018). The New Economic Diplomacy: Decision-Making and Negotiation in International Economic Relations (Global Finance). London: Routledge. Benson-Rea, M., & Shore, C. (2012). Representing Europe: the emerging "culture" of EU Diplomacy. Public Administration, 90(2), 480-496. Bretherton, C., & Vogler, J. (2000). The European Union as Trade Actor and Environmental Activist: Contradictory Roles? Journal of Economic Integration, 15(2), 163 -194. Council of the European Union. (2011, May 28). 20th EU-Japan Summit Brussels, 28 May 2011 Joint Press Statement. Brussels. Drieskens, E. (2015). Introduction: EU Actors. In The SAGE Handbook of European Foreign Policy (pp. 317-329). London: SAGE. Gebhard, C. (2017). The Problem of Coherence in the European Union's International Relations. In C. Hill, M. Smith, & S. Vanhoonacker, International Relations and the European Union (pp. 123-142). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gstöhl, S. (2011). EU Diplomacy After Lisbon: More Effective Multilateralism? The Brown Journal of World Affairs, 17(2), 181-191. Hill, C., Vanhoonacker, S., & Smith, H. M. (2017). International Relations and the European Union .Oxford: Oxford University Press. PAGE 86


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Trends in Chinese Investment in Central and Eastern Europe Ryan Nabil

Introduction In his February 2019 visit to Hungary and Poland, US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo warned Budapest and Warsaw against the growing economic influence of China and the threat that Chinese investment poses to Central Europe.1 Secretary Pompeo advocated greater US engagement in the region, arguing that previous administrations ignored Central and Eastern Europe (CEE).2 While the Trump administration is right to be concerned about Chinese investment in Europe, American and European leaders must develop a holistic understanding of the trends in Chinese investment in Europe. In this context, Washington and Brussels must pay attention to the risks and opportunities posed by growing Chinese investment in Europe. Given the importance of European markets to Chinese investment, key trends in Chinese investment in Europe can help inform the public policy debate about China’s global role as a foreign investor. In this paper, I point out key trends in China’s economic relations with Central and Eastern European countries. First, the Chinese economic presence in the CEE countries has grown substantially since 2008—although this amount remains small compared to Chinese investment in Britain, Germany, France, Italy, and Switzerland.3 Second, growing evidence suggests that Chinese companies have been targeting their investment in critical and dual-use sectors, which has led to calls for stricte rinvestment review frameworks.4 Third, the Chinese government is using new frameworks, like the “17+1” initiative,to strengthen its trade relations with CEE countries, which has raised concerns in Western European capitals.5 Fourth, while Chinese financing allows Balkan and Visegrad countries to build much-needed infrastructure and promote economic growth, debt associated with Chinese infrastructure projects is becoming an increasingly important issue, especially for smaller economies like 1.Mike Pompeo, “Remarks at U.S. Embassy Budapest,” U.S. Department of State, February 11, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, 2. Ibid. 3. American Enterprise Institute (AEI) and Heritage Foundation, “ChinaGlobal Investment Tracker,” AEI, n.d., accessed April 23, 2019, 4. Scholars and policy analysts have already proposed such initiatives. For one such example, please see: Ashley Feng and Sagatom Saha, "The EU Needs a Better Way to Screen Chinese Investment. It Should Look to France," World Politics Review, February 28, 2019, accessed December 3, 2019, 5. Eamonn Butler, “16+1: The EU’s Concerns of a Chinese ‘Trojan Horse,’” EuropeNow, June 5, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, PAGE 90


Montenegro.6 Finally, European companies do not enjoy the same access to the Chinese markets that Chinese companies enjoy in Europe.7 In the future, European leaders need to advocate broader Chinese market access for European companies and ensure a levelplaying for Chinese and European companies.8 I. Europe’s Importance to China’s Global Economic Ambitions Since 2008, the Chinese government launched and strengthened a series of initiatives to enhance its international economic presence, including the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) ( ) and the Go Out ( )policy.9 As part of these two initiatives, the Chinese government and enterprises undertook foreign infrastructure projects, while Chinese stateowned enterprises and private corporations expanded overseas investment.10 As a result, Chinese overseas investment increased substantially, growing from $10.2 billion in 2005 to $177.2 billion in 2017 (Figure 1).11 However, this investment decreased to $105.9 billion in 2018, primarily due to increasing restrictions on Chinese investment, especially in Europe and the United States, as well as a slowing Chinese economy (Figure 1).12



6. James Kynge,“China’s Belt and Road Projects Drive Overseas Debt Fear,” Financial Times, August 7, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019 7. Clifford Coonan, “European Firms in China Seek a More Level Playing Field,” Irish Times. May 31, 2017, accessed April 2, 2019, 8. Victor Mallet, “EU Leaders Urge China to Open Up Domestic Market,” Financial Times, March 26, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, 9. Erik Brattberg and Etienne Soula, “Europe’s Emerging Approach to China’s Belt and Road Initiative,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, October 19, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 10. Ibid. 11. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” 12. Ibid.



Source: Author using data by the American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation (2019)13 Given the size of the European common market and the technological sophistication of its companies, Europe is central to China’s global economic ambitions. The Chinese government appears to have two main objectives for its economic diplomacy initiatives in Europe: first, by investing in Europe, Chinese enterprises seek to acquire the technology that would allow China to move up the global supply chains.14 Second, by undertaking infrastructure projects, the Chinese government hopes to link China with European markets.15 In this context, Beijing views Central and Eastern Europe as a gateway connecting China to Western Europe.16 As a result, China rapidly increased its investment in Europe, which grew from less than $1.0 billion in 2005 to $96.8 billion in 2017 (Table 1).17 Mirroring broader patterns in Chinese global investment, Chinese investment in Europe declined to $42.1 billion in 2018 (Table 1).18 Nevertheless, Europe accounted for 39.7 percent of China’s global investment portfolio that year, reflecting the continent’s importance to Beijing.19 Between 2005 and 2018, Chinese companies invested $342.6 billion in Europe, 90.3 percent higher than Chinese investment in the United States (Table 2).20 With a total of 369 projects between 2005 and 2018, Europe also had the highest number of Chinese investment projects for any region in our sample (Table 2).21

13. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” 14. Paul Mozur and Jack Ewing, “Rush of Chinese Investment in Europe's High-Tech Firms in Raising Eyebrows,” The New York Times, September 16, 2016. 15. Martin Hala, “Europe’s New ‘Eastern Bloc,’” Politico, April 13, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 16.ibid. 17. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” 18. Ibid. 19. Ibid. 20. Ibid 21. Ibid.



II. Chinese Investment and the EU-CEE Divide Despite growing worries about Chinese investment in Central and Eastern European countries like Hungary and Poland, Chinese investment remains primarily concentrated in the major Western European economies (Table 3).22 Between 2005 and 2018, four states—Britain, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy—accounted for 69.1 percent of the total Chinese investment (Table 3).23 In contrast, Hungary and Poland received only 1.15 percent and 0.30 percent, respectively, of Chinese investment during that period (Table 3).24 As a result, economic evidence does not suggest that Chinese investment has been flowing disproportionately more to countries with reportedly authoritarian and populist governments, like Hungary and Poland.

22. Jessica Donato and Drew Hinshaw, “Pompeo Warns Hungary Against Closer Ties With China,” The Wall Street Journal, February 11, 2019, accessed May 2, 2019, 23. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” 24. Ibid. PAGE 93


While most Chinese investment goes to large Western and Southern European economies, BRI investments are primarily directed to smaller Central and Eastern European countries.25 Between 2005 and 2018, Greece, Portugal, and Serbia were the largest recipients of BRI investment, accounting for 30.6 percent, 28.3 percent, and 12.8 percent, respectively, of such investment (Table 4).26 Except for Portugal, other BRI recipient countries were also located in Central and Eastern Europe (Table 4).27 However, non-BRI Chinese investment, which tends to go to major Western European economies, is significantly higher than the total BRI spending. Between 2005 and 2018, non-BRI investment amounted to $301.1 billion (Table 5), about ten times higher than the total amount invested under BRI projects, $31.9 billion (Table 4).28 Therefore, while a growing portion of BRI investment is going to the CEE countries, Chinese investment remains concentrated in major western and southern European economies.

25. Ibid. 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. PAGE 94


III. Sectoral Distribution of Chinese Investment While American and European policymakers are primarily concerned about Chinese investment in the technology and transportation sectors, Chinese investment targets a diverse range of industries worldwide. With 47 projects and $365 billion in investment, themost significant amount of Chinese investment went to energy projects, like the Chinese Petroleum and Chemical Corporation’s (Sinopec) $3 billion investments in Britain and Switzerland.29 As a result, energy projects accounted for roughly one-third of Chinese investment worldwide (Table 6).30 Investment in metals, like iron and steel, also accounted for 12.3 percent of Chinese investment, while investment in transportation, 29. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” 30. Ibid. PAGE 95


real estate, and finance comprised 10.0 percent, 8.7 percent, and 7.2 percent, respectively, of Chinese global investment portfolio(Table 6).31 Compared to Chinese investment worldwide, Chinese investment in Europe appears more diversified. Between 2005 and 2018, the top two sectors—energy and metals—accounted for 42.3 percent of the total Chinese investment worldwide (Table 6).32 During the same period, the top two European sectors—agriculture and transportation—comprised 33.0 percent of the entire Chinese investment in Europe (Table 7).33 The most significant amount of Chinese investment in Europe appears to have gone to agriculture, which accounted for 16.8 percent of Chinese investment in Europe(Table 7).34 The energy sector, which accounted for 32.0 percent of Chinese investment worldwide, comprised only 14.2 percent of Chinese investment in Europe(Table 7).35 Transportation and finance are also important sectors for Chinese investment, comprising 16.2 and 11.2 percent, respectively, of Beijing’s investment in Europe (Table 7).36

31. Ibid. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid. PAGE 96


IV. Chinese Investment in Strategic Sectors Throughout Europe, Chinese investment projects—especially the ones driven by the state-owned companies—appear to target transportation and strategic sectors like technology.37 In 2017, the largest Chinese transportation investments included the Chinese Investment Corporation’s acquisition of Logicor, a European warehouse and logistics company, and China COSCO’s purchase of a stake in the Spanish Noatum port.38 As a result of such investments, Chinese state-owned enterprises and private companies now hold equity in over a dozen European ports, including the Piraeus port in Greece and other ports in Belgium, France, Italy, the Netherlands, and Spain.39 Apart from infrastructure, Chinese companies also invest heavily in high-tech industries, like information technology and semiconductors. In 2017, Chinese high-tech investments included the acquisition of Imagination Technology Group, a British semiconductor company, and the acquisition of “NXP Semiconductors’ Standard Product Business,” a 37. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” 38. Ibid. 39.Joanna Kakissis, “Chinese Firms Now Hold Stakes In Over A Dozen European Ports,” NPR, October 9, 2018, accessed April 3, 2019, PAGE 97


leading supplier of semiconductors and wearable technology.40 Because of national security concerns, the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS) voiced concerns about several Chinese deals and helped block a proposal by the Chinese-owned Fujian Grand Chip to acquire the German semiconductor firm Aixtron, which supplies USweapons systems with semiconductors.41 Chinese investment in the European energy sector also appears to target strategic projects. Within Europe, Chinese energy investment goes to all subsectors within the energy market, including the “traditional energy generation infrastructure, renewable energy companies and, most recently, Europe’s nuclear power sector.”42 Among these subsectors, Beijing appears to prioritize nuclear and renewable energy, which allows Chinese companies to gain the technical expertise needed for developing renewable energy in China.43 For instance, in 2008, the Chinese-owned Xinxiang Goldwing group acquired a “70% stake in the German wind-turbine manufacturer Vensys”, and in 2017, the state-owned China General Nuclear Power Group “bought a 33.5% stake in the British Hinkley Point nuclear power station.”44 While Chinese energy companies primarily invest in Western Europe, they are increasingly expanding their footprint in southern Europe.45 From 2000 to 2014, Greece, Italy, Portugal, and Spain accounted for roughly one-fourth of Chinese investment in Europe.46 As a result of such projects, the energy sector is the third most important sector for Chinese investment, accounting for 14.2 percent of the country’s investment in Europe between 2005 and 2018.47 40. Thilo Hanemann and Mikko Huotari, “Chinese FDI in Europe,” MERICS: Mercator Institute for Chinese Studies (May 2018): 30–33, accessed April 2, 2019, 41. Ashley Feng and Sagatom Saha, “Emerging EU Policies Take a Harder Look at Chinese Investments,” Jamestown Foundation, January 18, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019 42. BjörnConradand Genia Kostka, “Chinese Investments in Europe's Energy Sector: Risks and Opportunities?” Energy Policy 101 (2017): 644. 43. Conradand Kostka, 644–645. 44. Conradand Kostka, 645–646.For this information, the authors cite the following sources: Olivia Gippner and Diarmuid Torney, “Shifting Policy Priorities in EU-China Energy Relations: Implications for Chinese Energy Investments in Europe,”Energy Policy 101 (February 2017): 649–658,; Olivia Gippner and Rabe Wiebke, “Are Europe's Wind and Solar Industries Still Attractivefor ChineseCompanies?”Dahrendorf Forum, accessed November 21, 2016,; SteveThomas, "China's nuclear export drive: Trojan Horse or Marshall Plan?" Energy Volume 101 (February 2017): 683-691, 2016.09.038; Rabe Wiebke and Olivia Gippner, “Investment Power China? Perceptions of China’s Outward Foreign Direct Investment in Europe,” Working Paper(2017)(Forthcoming). 45. Conradand Kostka, 645–646. 46. Conradand Kostka, 645–646; For this information, the authors cite the following source: Pablo Pareja-Alcaraz, “Chinese Investments in Southern Europe's Energy Sectors: Similarities and Divergences in China's Strategies in Greece, Italy, Portugal and Spain,” Energy Policy, Volume 101 (February 2017): 700–710, 47. AEI and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker.” PAGE 98


V. CEE-EU Views on Chinese Investment Although Chinese investment in CEE countries remains modest, mismanaging China’s economic presence in the region risks worsening the growing divide between the EU and CEE countries.In March 2019, the European Commission termed China as a “strategic competitor” in its joint communiqué to the European Parliament and European Council and expressed concerns about China’s growing presence in the EU’s immediate neighborhood.48 Meanwhile, several Visegrad leaders—like Viktor Orbán—accuse the EU of hypocrisy related to Chinese investment and advocate increased Chinese investment, especially in infrastructure and technology.49 According to such leaders, Western European countries are welcome to court Chinese investment, but Central European countries are criticized for doing the same—even though the CEE share of Chinese investment in Europe remains far lower than that of Western Europe.50 While Western European and CEE countries differ in their opinion toward Chinese investment, we notice significant heterogeneity in CEE countries’ views of China. Hungary, the Czech Republic, Poland, and Serbia rank among the most active supporters of Chinese economic engagement in the region.51 Pro-Chinese sentiments are especially strong in Hungary, where Viktór Orban praises the Chinese economic model and advocates the EU’s recognition of China as a market economy.52 This increasingly pro-Chinese position taken by some CEE countries has already affected affects the EU’s position on strategic issues. For instance, in 2016, mainly due to Greek and Hungarian opposition, the European Union failed to declare a united stance against China’s growing military buildup in the South China Sea.53 Croatia, Estonia, Lithuania, and Slovakia lag behind their Visegrad counterparts in cooperating with China, while Albania, 48. American Enterprise Institute and Heritage Foundation, “China Global Investment Tracker." 49. Drew Hinshaw and Anita Komuves, “Hungary Bucks U.S. Push to Curb Russian and Chinese Influence,” The Wall Street Journal, January 27, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, 50. See Table 3. 51. Iulia Monica Oehler-Şincai, “The 16+1 Process: Correlations between the EU Dependency/Attitude Matrix and the Cooperation Intensity with China,” Paper presented at 16+1 High-level Academic Forum, Budapest, Hungary, accessed December 3, 2019, e_EU_DependencyAttitude_Matrix_and_the_Cooperation_Intensity_with_China. 52. Viktor Orban, “Full Text of Viktor Orbán’s Speech at Băile Tuşnad (Tusnádfürdő) of 26 July 2014,” Budapest Beacon, July 29, 2014, accessed April 2, 2019; Budapest Business Journal,“Hungary Supports Granting China Market Economy Status,” May 31, 2016, accessed April 2, 2019 53. China’s Relations with U.S. Allies and Partners in Europe and the Asia Pacific: U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission, 115th Congress (statement of Thomas Wright, Brookings Institutions, and Thorsten Benner, Global Public Policy Institute), April 5, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, wrightbennerchinatransatlantic relations.pdf. PAGE 99


Bosnia, and Herzegovina, and Montenegro show the least degree of support toward China in European and multilateral institutions.54 VI. “17+1” Framework and China-CEE Relations In addition to China’s relations with the EU and individual European governments,the Chinese government uses the “17+1” framework for its economic engagement with CEE countries, which has exacerbated fault lines within Europe. The “17+1” Initiative, which was known as the “16+1” Initiative before Greece joined the framework as the 17th member,includes China and 17 European countries.55 These 17 states include twelve EU member states (Bulgaria, Croatia, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Greece, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Romania, Slovakia, and Slovenia) and five non-EU Balkan countries (Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia, Montenegro, and Serbia).56 From the Chinese government’s point of view, the “17+1” framework allows China to achieve important diplomatic objectives. First, the 17 members (except Greece) share a collective socialist past with China, and China maintained diplomatic relations with many of these countries during the Cold War(especially before the Sino-Soviet split).57 Thus, the “17+1” framework allows Beijing to connect with European countries that it might perceive to be politically closer to China.58 Second, the 17 European countries have a central position along the BRI, and strong bilateral relations would link Chinese companies and infrastructure projects with Western European markets.59 Third, this framework enables China to interact with multiple smaller countries at the same time, which makes China’s European engagement logistically easier.60 Conversely, it also gives European countries multiple avenues to engage with China—for instance, Hungary and Poland can engage with China through the respective national governments, the EU, Visegrad Four, and the “17+1” summits.61 54. Oehler-Şincai, “The 16+1 Process.” 55. Emilian Kavalski, "China’s “16+1” Is Dead? Long Live the '17+1.'," The Diplomat, March 29, 2019, Kavalski, "China’s “16+1” Is Dead? Long Live the '17+1.'," The Diplomat, March 29, 2019, 2019/03/chinas-161-is-dead-long-live-the-171/ 56. Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Latvia, “16+1 Summit has Concluded,” February 22, 2017, accessed April 2, 2019, 57. Eamonn Butler, “16+1: The EU’s Concerns of a Chinese ‘Trojan Horse.” 58. Marcin Kaczmarski, “China on Central-Eastern Europe: ‘16+1’ as seen from Beijing,” OSW Commentary, April 14, 2015, accessed December 3, 2019, osw-commentary/2015-04-14/china-central-eastern-europe-161-seen-beijing. 59. Ibid. 60. Yuriy Sergeyev, “Class Discussion,” Security in Central and Eastern Europe, Yale University (Spring 2019). 61. Fanni Marázi, “The Presentation of the ‘16+1’ Cooperation,”Belt and Road Center, November 7, 2017, accessed April 2, 2019 PAGE 100


However, European officials increasingly fear that the Chinese government seeks to weaken European unity by excluding Western European countries from the “17+1” framework.62 To combat this perception, the Chinese and CEE governments should consider engaging Western European countries—especially France, Germany, and the UK—as participants in the initiative. VII. Chinese Infrastructure Projects in Central and Eastern Europe As part of Chinese diplomacy toward the CEE region, the Chinese government offers infrastructure financing to twelve EU member countries and five Balkan states.63 Chinese companies, with the financial backing of state-owned banks, announced a total commitment of $15.0 billion in infrastructure projects in the region since 2012, according to the Financial Times.64 However, this figure is paltry compared to the EU’s infrastructure financing commitment for Central and Eastern European countries. The largest CEE recipient of Chinese infrastructure financing, Bosnia, received roughly €3.5 billion between 2012 and 2016 (Figure 2).65 In comparison, Poland alone received a commitment of €80.0 billion from the EU structural funds for the 2014-2020 period.66

62. Jonathan E. Hilman and Maesea McCalpin, “Will China’s ‘16+1’ Format Divide Europe?”Center for Strategic and International Studies, April 11, 2019, 63. Tsvetelia Tsolova, Noah Barkin, and Robin Emmott, “China's Ambitions in Eastern Europe to Face Scrutiny at Summit,” Reuters, July 4, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 64. James Kynge and Michael Peel, “Brussels Rattled as China Reaches out to Eastern Europe,” Financial Times, November 27, 2017, accessed April 2, 2019, 65. Ibid. 66. Ibid. PAGE 101


Although Chinese infrastructure financing is not essential for EU member countries like Poland, it is crucial for the Balkan countries, which do not enjoy the same access to EU infrastructure financing.67 In response to the lack of infrastructure financing in the Balkans, Chinese companies have undertaken multiple high-profile infrastructure and energy projects, including a €3.0 billion expressway between Albania and Montenegro and a €1.4 billion highway between Banja Luka in Bosnia and Herzegovina and Mlinište in Serbia.68 Consequently, 52.1 percent of Chinese infrastructure deals (worth $9.4 billion) for the “16+1” countries went to the five non-EU member states in the Balkans—Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia, Montenegro, and Serbia.69 As a result, Chinese infrastructure financing commitments now exceed those by the European Union in all Balkan countries except Albania (Figure 3).70

VIII. Rising Debt Associated with Chinese Investments Despite the short-term economic benefits from Chinese infrastructure financing, Central and Eastern European countries must be careful not to accumulate Chinese debt.71 Recent research suggests that BRI recipient countries are more likely than non-BRI 67. Yuriy Sergeyev, “Class Discussion,” Security in Central and Eastern Europe, Yale University (Spring 2019). 68. Kynge and Peel, “Brussels rattled as China reaches out to eastern Europe,” Financial Times, 2017 69. Michael Peel, James Kynge, and Lucy Hornby, “China’s Balkan Investment Pledges Stoke EU Concern,” Financial Times, July 1, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 6c646a3e-7d29-11e8-bc55-50daf11b720d. 70. Munich Security Conference, Munich Security Report 2019: The Great Puzzle. 71. Michal Romanowski, “The Four Faces of China in Central and Eastern Europe,” Yale Global Online, accessed December 3, 2019, PAGE 102


counterparts to develop financial difficulties.72 According to the Financial Times, BRI countries score 5.2 on the FT index of financial risk, compared to 3.5 for emergingmarket countries.73 In 2016, for a highway construction project—which would connect Montenegro’s port of Bar on the Adriatic Coast to Serbia—the Montenegrin government agreed to borrow €809.0 million ($917.1 million), equivalent to one-fifth of its GDP, from the Export-Import Bank of China.74 As a result, the country’s external debt is projected to reach 83.0 percent of GDP by the end of 2019, up from 66.3 percent in 2016.75 The ensuing fiscal pressure already “forced the [Montenegrin]government to raise taxes, partially freeze public sector wages,”and end a maternity benefits program, according to Reuters.76 In addition to Montenegro, other Balkan countries have also experienced an ncrease in their debt commitment to China as a result of BRI projects.77 As a result, Chinese loans now account for over 10 percent of the total debt liabilities in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia, and Serbia (Figure 4).78 This increase in public debt has led to growing fiscal problems, which might negatively affect the Balkan countries’ accession to the European Union.79

72. Ryan Nabil, “Essay: Addressing Risks to the Belt and Road Initiative,” US-China Relations and the Future of Foreign Policy (David Rank), Yale University, December 2018. 73. James Kynge, “China’s Belt and Road Projects Drive Overseas Debt Fear,” Financial Times, August 7, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 74. Ibid. 75. International Monetary Fund, Montenegro: Staff Concluding Statement of the 2017 Article IV Mission (Washington, DC: IMF, February 28, 2017), accessed April 2, 2019, 76. Noah Barkin and Aleksandr Vasovic, “Chinese ‘Highway to Nowhere’ Haunts Montenegro,” Reuters, July 16, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 77. Munich Security Conference, Munich Security Report 2019: The Great Puzzle: Who Will Pick Up the Pieces? (Munich, Munich Security Conference, 2019),accessed December 3, 2019, pdf. 78. Ibid. 79. John Hurley, Scott Morris, and Gailyn Portelance, “Examining the Debt Implications of the Belt and Road Initiative from a Policy Perspective,” Center for Global Development Policy Paper 121 (March 2018), accessed December 3, 2019, PAGE 103


Figure 4. Balkan Debt Liabilities to China

Given the financial risks that Chinese investment poses, European leaders—in Brussels and the CEE capitals—would be well-advised to design comprehensive review processes for foreign investment projects.80 Such a review process should consider the possible effects of infrastructure projects on the host countries’ public finances.81 Furthermore, foreign infrastructure projects should also comply with the competitive bidding process and transparency standards characteristic of infrastructure projects bythe World Bank and other western multilateral institutions.82 IX.Security Risks from Chinese Investments In light of Chinese investments in strategic sectors, European policymakers are increasingly concerned that the Chinese government is capturing European technological know-how and will ultimately challenge Europe’s strategic interests.83 Indeed, as part of its “Made in China 2025” strategy, the Chinese government hopes to develop the technology that it needs to become an industrial powerhouse by 2025.84 To do so, China needs 80. John Seaman, Miguel Otero-Iglesias, and Mikko Huotari, “Sizing Up Chinese Investments in Europe,” The Diplomat, March 1, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, sizing-up-chinese-investments-in-europe/. 81. Nabil, “Addressing Risks to the Belt and Road Initiative. 82. Edmund Bao, “The One Belt, One Road Initiative Needs a Centralized Anticorruption Body,” Global Anticorruption Blog, August 16, 2018, accessed May 6, 2019,; Nabil, “Addressing Risks to the Belt and Road Initiative." 83.John Seaman, Mikko Huotari, and Migeuel Otero-Iglesian (eds), Chinese Investment in Europe: A Country Level Approach (European Think-tank Network on China, December 2017), accessed December 3, 2019, 84. Seaman, Huotari, and Otero-Iglesian (eds), Chinese Investment in Europe; Institute for Security and Development Policy, Made in China 2025(Institute for Security and Development Policy Backgrounder, June 2018): 1–8, PAGE 104


to acquire European technology that will allow the country to move up the global chain of production. In the last several years, the Chinese government increased its investment in high-tech manufacturing, energy, and infrastructure projects in Europe.85 As a result, a growing number of Chinese state-owned and private companies are now targeting strategic European sectors while restricting European access to Chinese markets. Growing evidence suggests that European concerns about Chinese investments are wellfounded. For instance, between 2016 and 2018, the Chinese-owned Midea acquired the controlling shares of the largest robotics firm in Germany and made bids for the only French shipyard capable of building warships.86 In 2016, Fujian Grand Chip—a company with reported ties to the Chinese government—attempted to purchase the German semiconductor firm Aixtron.87 Since Aixtron supplies US weapons systems with semiconductors, the US Committee on Foreign Investment voiced its concerns, leading the German government to suspend the deal and bolster Germany’s investment review process.88 Other European countries are now following suit—France and the United Kingdom recently strengthened their national investment review processes, allowing the respective governments to block potential deals on national security grounds.89 As Chinese companies—especially the ones with links to the Chinese Communist Party— face a stricter regulatory environment in Western Europe, those companies are increasingly looking toward less-regulated CEE markets as a way of acquiring new technology.90 Chinese technology companies—like Huawei, Lenovo, and ZTE—are amongst the leading Chinese investors in Central and Eastern Europe.91 Recently, the CEE countries’ efforts to balance Chinese investment and EU demands for greater scrutiny exacerbated political divisions within Europe. For instance, whereas Germany sided with the United States in recognizing that Huawei poses a national security risk, Hungary and Slovakia declined to acknowledge any such risk.92 However, the Czech Republic and Poland—which seek improvedrelations with the United States—pursued 85. Michael Peel, James Kynge, and Lucy Hornby, “Brussels Seeks Tighter Vetting of Foreign Takeovers,” Financial Times, August 13, 2017, accessed April 2, 2019, 04fa752c-7dda-11e7-ab01-a13271d1ee9c. 86. Ashley Feng and Sagatom Saha, “The EU Needs a Better Way to Screen Chinese Investment. It Should Look to France,” World Politics Review, February 28, 2019. https://www.worldpolitics 87. Ibid. 88. Ashley Feng and Sagatom Saha, “Emerging EU Policies Take a Harder Look at Chinese Investments,” Jamestown Foundation, January 18, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, 89. Ibid. 90. Philip Heijmans, “The U.S.-China Tech War Is Being Fought in Central Europe,” The Atlantic, March 6, 2019, accessed December 3, 2019, 2019/03/czech-zeman-babis-huawei-xi-trump/584158/. 91. Seaman, Huotari, and Otero-Iglesian (eds), Chinese Investment in Europe. 92. Philip Heijmans, “The U.S.-China Tech War Is Being Fought in Central Europe,” The Atlantic, March 6, 2019. PAGE 105


a more careful approach.94 In response to the European debate on national security,the Czech Republic barred Huawei and its rival ZTE from bidding for a $28.0 million online tax portal,95 and the Czech Defense Ministry instructed its personnel to remove any sensitive application from their Huawei phones.96 As European leaders become more aware of the potential security risks from Chinese investment, European countries might need a harmonized framework for reviewing foreign investment.97 Currently, the European Union lacks a regulatory body like the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States, which exercises power to review and block potential deals because of national security concerns.98 Furthermore, only half of the 27 EU member states—including Hungary, Lithuania, and Poland in the CEE region —currently employ national screening mechanisms for reviewing foreign investment.99 Additionally, these 14 countries exhibit a significant degree of heterogeneity in defining the scope, sectors, and reasons for screening investment.100 On March 5, 2019, the European Council adopted a new regulation establishing a framework for screening investment in infrastructure, critical-and dual-use technology, which came into force in 2020.101 However, this mechanism only accords the European Commission advisory power, meaning that the EU does not have legal competence to block investment in member countries on security grounds.102 Therefore, to prevent foreign acquisition of sensitive technology and infrastructure, the EU and European countries might need to harmonize investment screening processes by either adopting a common national-level framework or granting the EU exclusive competence in reviewing security risks from foreign investment. In doing so, the European leaders need to ensure that member states—especially larger countries—do not use such a mechanism as a tool to protect domestic companies from foreign competition. To boost economic growth, CEE countries need more foreign investment, especially from highgrowth economies like China, India, and the ASEAN. Therefore, unless projects threaten European security, policymakers should encourage foreign investment in the CEE region, while mitigating security risks from targetedstate-drivenstrategic investments. 94. Ibid. 95. Drew Hinshaw and Philip Heijmans, “Czech Tax Office Bars China’s Huawei as Europe Debates Espionage,” The Wall Street Journal, January 30, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, articles/czech-tax-office-bars-chinas-huawei-as-europe-debates-espionage-11548881032. 96. Heijmans, “The U.S.-China Tech War Is Being Fought in Central Europe,” The Atlantic, 2019. 97. Kirkland and Ellis, “EU Poised to Enact a ‘European CFIUS’—Four Considerations for CrossBorder M&A,” January 16, 2019. 98. Ibid. 99. Ibid. 100. Ibid. 101. European Union, “Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council Establishing a Framework for the Screening of Foreign Direct Investments into the Union,” February 20, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, 102. Squire Patton Boggs, “EU Adopts CFIUS-like Framework for Sake of National Security – Regulation Approved by the Council of EU,” Trade Practitioner, March 12, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, PAGE 106


X. Improving European Access to the Chinese Markets Despite significant improvements in European market access for Chinese firms, European firms face substantial barriers to accessing Chinese markets.103 Whereas Chinese firms can mostly invest in Europe without restrictions, European firms face significant obstacles to investing in China.104 According to the EU’s 2016 Doing Business in China survey, more than half of European firms reported that foreign companies are treated unfairly compared to Chinese businesses.105 According to the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development(OECD), which evaluates 63 countries in terms of their restrictiveness towards foreign investment, China ranked as the fourth most restrictive country in 2017, performing better than only the Philippines, Saudi Arabia, and Indonesia (Figure 5).106 As a result, although China has substantially liberalized its domestic market in recent years, access to Chinese markets remains heavily restricted for foreign firms.107

To improve market access, the European Union and China have been in the process of negotiating the EU-China Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (CAI) since 2013.108 103. Weinian Hu, “EU-China Investments: Barriers to Market Access in China,” Clingendael Spectator, November 7, 2018, accessed April 2, 2019, 104. Coonan, “European Firms in China Seek a More Level Playing Field.” 105. Ibid. 106. Weinian Hu, “EU-China Investments: Barriers to Market Access in China.” 107. Ibid. 108. Artur Gradziuk and Damian Wnukowski, “Rocky Road to a Level Playing Field in EU–China Investment and Trade Relations,” Polish Institute of International Affairs Policy Paper 8: 91 (April 2014),; Christoph Sprich and Patricia Schetelig, “The EU-China Investment Treaty,”BDI, January 21, 2020, accessed June 28, 2020, PAGE 107


European leaders must use CAI negotiations to advocate greater access to Chinese markets. In March 2019, Angela Merkel and Emanuel Macron rightly stressed the importance of better access to the Chinese market as a condition for signing an investment agreement.109 At a minimum, the EU-China CAI should harmonize Chinese and European investment regulations, abolish China’s joint venture requirement, and remove the forced technology transfer requirement for European businesses as a condition of doing business in China.110 In this context, European leaders should point out that creating a level playing field for European companies and improving access to Chinese markets is ultimately in Beijing’s best interests. Due to the lack of adequate market access and discriminatory regulations, European firms are becoming less willing to invest in China.111 As a result, although Chinese FDI flows accounted for more than €38.0 billion in Europe in 2016, European FDI in China remained less than €8.0 billion.112 As the Chinese economy slows down and USChina relationssour, China needs more foreign investment.113 Increased European investment would help Chinese companies improve their productivity, especially in energy, technology, and other priority sectors for the Chinese government.114 Therefore, by improving market access for European companies, China can attract more European investment and help boost the Chinese economy.115 Conclusion As China expands its global economic presence, European leaders need to evaluate critically the opportunities and challenges that Chinese investment poses to the continent. On the one hand, over reliance on Chinese investment could not only exacerbate public finances, but the Chinese control of critical energy and technology companies could also jeopardize European security and hamper Europe’s relations with the United States.116 On the other hand, restricting Chinese investment could lead to missed economic opportunities, especially for poorer European countries that need investment and 109. Victor Mallet, “EU Leaders Urge China to Open Up Domestic Market,” Financial Times, March 26, 2019, accessed April 2, 2019, 110. Ibid. 111. Coonan, “European Firms in China Seek a More Level Playing Field.” 112. Note that “foreign direct investment” and “total investment inflows” are different measures of measuring investments. While AEI reports total investment inflows in Europe from China, it does not report European investment in China. Therefore, I use the numbers provided in the Irish Times, which compares Chinese FDI in Europeand European FDI in China.See Coonan, “European Firms in China Seek a More Level Playing Field.” 113. Bloomberg News, "China’s Economy Slows for 7th Month, Early Indicators Show," November 26, 2019. 114. Victor Mallet, “EU Leaders Urge China to Open Up Domestic Market,” Financial Times, 2019. 115. Ibid. 116. Hurley et al., “Examining the Debt Implications of the Belt and Road Initiative from a Policy Perspective.”For a discussion of Chinese FDI in Europe and national security implications,please see Frank Bickenbach; Wan-Hsin Liu, “Chinese Direct Investment in Europe –Challenges for EU FDI PAGE 108


infrastructure financing.117 Furthermore, the mismanagement of China-Europe relations could lead to further divisions within Europe. Therefore, policymakers need to develop a strategy to improve economic relations with China without exacerbating Europe’s existing political challenges. In this context, European countries should consider bolstering and harmonizing investment review processes for investment in critical technology and infrastructure.118 In this context, EU leaders need to pay close attention to the developments in the Balkans, where Chinese economic presence is expanding rapidly.119 Finally, by exerting pressure on Beijing, policymakers need to make sure that European businesses enjoy the same access to Chinese markets that Chinese companies and investors enjoy in Europe.120

Policy,” CESifo Forum, ISSN 2190-717X, ifo Institut –LeibnizInstitut für Wirtschaftsforschung an der Universität München, München19: 4 (2018): 15-22, accessed December 3, 2019, 117. For a discussion of the Balkans’ infrastructuredeficit, please see Ruben Atoyan and Dóra Benedek, Public Infrastructure in the Western Balkans: A Highway to Higher Income(Washington, DC: IMF Country Focus, February 8, 2018), accessed December 3, 2019, 118. Policy analysts and scholars have already proposed such initiatives. For one such example, please see: Ashley Feng and Sagatom Saha, “The EU Needs a Better Way to Screen Chinese Investment.” 119. Peel et al., “China’s Balkan Investment pledges Stoke EU Concern.” 129. Coonan, “European Firms in China Seek a More Level Playing Field”; Mallet, “EU Leaders Urge China to Open Up Domestic Market.”

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IV. Fault Lines in European and Eurasian Security Chair: Sarah Holzworth, Columbia University Presenters: Sarah Holzworth (Columbia University), Hansong Li (Harvard University), Maria Snegovaya (Johns Hopkins University SAIS), Calvin Chang (Yale University) Discussant: Ivan Safranchuk, Visiting Professor, Yale University

Do It for Your Country: Russia’s Demographic Crisis and Risk-Taking Engagements (Abstract) Sarah Holzworth

For centuries, scholars have argued over the connection between population and power for states. The enduring assumption was that limiting population size was the key to maintaining security, but recent scholarship has challenged this, considering depopulation to be the new security threat for great powers of the 21st century. In the political demography literature, some scholars claim that if a state is insecure in its population size, it may be less prone to risk-taking behavior that could reduce that population even further, while others argue that this insecurity may result in the opposite, especially if great power status aims are involved. In Russia, a state severely affected by this problem and particularly interested in great power status, does a demographic crisis correspond to more risk-averse or risk-taking behavior?This paper explores Russia’s demographic troubles, notably fertility rates, one of the main factors in this crisis, and state solutions. This paper then uses Russian population statistics, UN records and other foreign policy accounts to analyze different dimensions of depopulation trends in Russia with trends in risky engagements.This analysis indicates that the Russian government’s solutions to resolving the demographic crisis have so far been insufficient; the continued and increasing problem of this demographic crisis corresponds to a higher likelihood of risk-taking engagements because of compensation, preventative action, and the anticipation of a shifting world order. This study will contribute to the political demography and international relations literature and shed light on an overlooked dimension of security for and between states.

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The ‘Indo-Pacific’: Intellectual Origins and International Receptions in Global Contexts Hansong Li

Part I. Introduction Since Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s August 2016 speech “Toward a Free and Open IndoPacific,” the high-profile renaming of the “U.S. Pacific Command”as the “Indo-Pacific Command,”as well as repercussions in Indian politics and reactions in the Chinese public sphere in the broad context of Sino-Indian rivalry, political scientists and international historians have revived the scholarly effort to trace the origin of the ‘Indo-Pacific’ to the Weimar Republic.1 Most remember the term as it is referenced in the title of Haushofer’s bygone classic, Deutsche Kulturpolitik im indopazifischen Raum (1939), which recurs in Japanese geopolitical rhetoric in the 1940s.2 However, the political environment in Europe and East Asia so thoroughly enveloped Haushofer’s political oceanography by 1939, that it is no longer easy to engage with, if not to disentangle the theoretical foundation of his thought from the expediency of geopolitical policies in international relations.As a result, over-emphasis on the foreign policies of the Third Reichis as revealing as it is confounding about the genesis of the ‘Indo-Pacific’as an idea.In fact, a full-fledged if not systematic account of the concept was born as early as more than a decade prior, in Haushofer’s major treatise on political geography, Geopolitik des Pazifischen Ozeans(1924).3


1. Takagi, Akihiko (trans.) & Spang, Christian. W. “Kāru Hausuhōfā to Doitsu no chiseigaku” ( ) in Kūkan, Shakai, Chiri-shisō ( ), Vol. 22 (2019), pp. 99-113; Aizawa, Teruaki et al (eds.) No. 13, 2016; Khurana, Gurpreet, S. “Common Public Good at Sea: Evolving Architecture in the Indo-Pacific Region” International Fleet Review (IFR) Series. National Maritime Foundation. 2016; Doyle, Timothy & Rumley, Dennis. The Rise and Return of the Indo-Pacific. Oxford: University of Oxford Press, 2020. P. 29, 33-34, 39, 43.


空間・社会・地理思想 海洋安全保障情報季報

2. Haushofer, Karl. Deutsche Kulturpolitik im indopazifischen Raum. Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1939. Hereafter, Indopazifischen Raum; Mahlberg, Josef. “Review” in Zeitschrift für Politik, Vol. 31, No. 3, 1941, pp. 190-191. For historical and recent scholarship in English, see Dorpalen, A. The World of General Haushofer: Geopolitics in Action. New York: Farrar and Rinehart. 1942; Neumann, Franz. Behemoth: The Structure and Practice of National Socialism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1942; Neumann, F. “Fashions in space.” Foreign Affairs 21, 276–288, 1943; Takagi, Akihiko. “Japanese Nationalism and Geographical Thought” Geopolitics, 3(3), 1998. pp. 125-139; Takeuchi, Keiichi. “Japanese Geopolitics in the 1930s and 1940s” Dodds, K. & Atkinson, D. (eds.) Geopolitical Traditions: A Century of Political Thought. London: Routledge, 2000; Holmes, James R.& Yohsihara, Toshi. Red Star over the Pacific: China's Rise and the Challenge to U.S. Maritime Strategy. Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2010; Herwig, Holger H. The Demon of Geopolitics: How Karl Haushofer "Educated"Hitler and Hess. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2016;Doyle & Rumley, p. 33-35. 3. Haushofer, Karl. Geopolitik des Pazifischen Ozeans, Studien über die Wechselbeziehungen zwischen Geographie und Geschichte. Mit sechzehn Karten und Tafeln. Berlin: K. Vowickel, 1924. Hereafter, Pazifischen Ozeans.

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The subtitle of the book, “studies on the interrelations between geography and history”(Studien über die Wechselbeziehungen zwischen Geographie und Geschichte)offers historians of political thought food for ruminations, for it situates Haushofer forthright into a distinguished lineage of political thinking on geographical factors in the making of customs and mores through historical processes, cutting across diverse traditions from early-modern natural jurisprudence to post-Enlightenment sacred histories.4 As the following section seeks to demonstrate, Haushofer inherits a profound anxiety with German geography as an impediment to political growth, a concern running from Frederick II,the Voltaire disciple and author of the Anti-Machiavel, who lamented Prussia’s lack of access to seaports, through such figures as Georg Forster, Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, and Alexander von Humboldt, to the late 19th century,as well as a generation of late 19th-century thinkers of geography and cartography in search of a place for Germany in the space between states. It is out of this larger historical context that Haushofer propounded the theory of the ‘Indo-Pacific’as a maritime route out oft he Eurasian-continental predicament.In fact, between these two treatises,the 1924 Pazifischen Ozeans and the 1939 Indopazifischen Raum, Haushofer attempted to formulate also an ‘Indo-Serian’theory which largely revives the “old Silk Road through the Yumen passage,”in his Geopolitik der Pan-Indee (1931).5 With this odd coinage of terminology with an obscure ethnographical reference to the ancient silk-trading Serians (Seres, Serica), the pedantic Haushofer shows again his insistence on incorporating the Indic and Sinic spheres, on land or on sea.6 4 Nakhimovsky, Isaac. The Closed Commercial State: Perpetual Peace and Commercial Society from Rousseau to Fichte. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011. Armitage, David. “The International Turn in Intellectual History” Rethinking Modern European Intellectual History, ed. D. M. McMahon, & S. Moyn (Eds.). New York: Oxford University Press, 2014. p. 232-252; Randolph, John. “The Space of Intellect and the Intellect of Space” In D. M. McMahon, & S. Moyn (Eds.),pp. 212-231. Benton, Lauren. A Search for Sovereignty. Law and Geography in European Empires, 1400–1900. Cambridge, University of Cambridge Press, 2009. Brett, Annabel S. “The Space of Politics and the Space of War in Hugo Grotius’s De iure belli ac pacis” Global Intellectual History, 2016. Pitts, Jennifer. Boundaries of the International: Law and Empire. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018. 5. Haushofer, Karl. Geopolitik der Pan-Ideen. Berlin: Zentral-Verlag, 1931. “...aber auch die der alten Seidenstraße durch die Yumon-Passage. Es ist bezeichnend, wie die Lieblingswege der indoserischen Kultur (Gandhara)...” p. 32. Hereafter, Pan-Ideen. 6. The ‘Serischen’ in “Indo-serischen,” adjective of Die Serer (silkroad: Seidenstraße), comes from Seres (Σῆρες), Serica(Σηρική) in Greco-Roman historiography (Ctesias’s Indica, Ammianus Marcellinus, Florus, Pausanius). Later writers on silkworms and Silkroad, such as Mr. Henry Barham (1670?-1726) who also imagines that knowledge in silk derives from Noah, have then and now taken it for China (An Essay upon the Silk-Worm, London: 1719. “Of the Antiquity of Silk” Chap. 1 p. 16), whereas others prefer Khotan, or even Kashmir. But at least the distinction between Seres and Sinae is clear in the Hellenistic era. See Pliny the Elder, Naturalis Historia, 6.17/20/24; Ptolemy, Geographia, VII.5; Lucan, Pharsalia B. x. 141; Pliny 34.4141; Pomponius Mela, De Situ Orbis III.7; Strabo in Geographia 11.11.1 & 15.1.34 & 15.1.37. The Serians roamed the vast land between Buchara, Kotschotei and the Tarim Basin. Another theory is that Seresis northern China and Sinae southern China, corresponding to the Cathay and Mangi. To what extent is Haushofer immersed in philological-ethnographical-Sino-Indological debates on this issue remains unclear. But using this obscure term itself, either to mean Chinese or something else, is a remarkable if not strange feat for Haushofer.

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But uncertainties and realities of Central Asia as a closed and chaotic space in the 1930s forced him to prioritise the maritime Indo-Pacific. To this end, Haushofer employs physical oceanography to delineate the bounds of maritime political spaces. I.1 The Political Oceanography of the Indo-Pacific Foreseeing the charge of artifice and arbitrariness against his invention of the ‘IndoPacific,’Haushofer forewarns his critics, that to speak of one “Indo-pacific” as Europe’s ‘counter-space’ (Gegenraum) is anything but to fabricate an unnatural “oceanic counter space of a landmass separated only by a meridional ditch.”7 Quite the opposite, he undertakes to account for new geo-oceanographic evidence on what should have been a naturally integral space, no matter how counter intuitive. Rather, it is this natural realm of the Indo-Pacific world, insists Haushofer, which has been divided by artificial and arbitrary political boundaries. Referring to the authority of marine biologists who noticed the ‘IndoPacific distribution’ of marine animals, Haushofer claims that the Pacific-oceanic region, together with the Indian Ocean, form one life-unit (Lebenseinheit).8 The oneness of animal life, therefore, is used to justify a program to reintegrate historically dispersed human life. The underlying theme is nature: after all, about what is natural,‘animal-geography’ (Tiergeographie)9—the routes of fishes swimming from Madagascar to the Austroasiatic coasts—have more to teach political societies than international treaties. Haushofer insists on the oceanographic foundation of human spatial boundaries, deploying physical evidence to make the case for political oceanography. For him, the “Indo-Pacific” is a bounded ‘life-space’(ökumene) separated from the ‘no-lifespace’(Anökumene) by its “southern borders,” which are set by (1) the permanent ‘good west winds’ in the southern seas and (2) oceanic currents of the Antarctica. These demarcations of the “purely oceanic dreamland of the southern border zone” are “more acceptable from a physical point of view”(aus der physischen heraus eher annehmbar),precisely because the winds and currents are factors which determine the operations of human activities: sailing, steamship, and fleet routes, which in turn shape the contours of power in international politics.10 7. Haushofer, Pazifischen Ozeans, II. Raumbild des Großen Ozeans nach Flachen, Grenzen und Lage, p. 35: “ sehen wir den Gegenraum Europas, nicht nur den ozeanisch bestimmten Gegenraum einer nur durch einen meridionalen Graben getrennten Landmasse.” 8. Haushofer, ibid. “ dem Indischen Ozean zursammen eine in manchem verwandte Lebenseinheit bilden... wie auch die Tiergeographie ein indo-pazifisches Verbreitungsgebiet dem atlantischen gegenüberstellt.” 9. Ibid 10. Haushofer, Pazifischen Ozeans. XIII: Sudseerand und Australasia, p. 181: “Mit besserem Recht könnten die Grenzen der südlichen Anökumene, der ozeanischen Zone der dauernden "braven West-winde" in Betracht kommen, allenfalls auch die des ozeanischen Strömungsspiels des Antarktischen Ozeans. Das wären glaubhaftere Grenzen für die politische Ozeanographie, aus der physischen heraus eher annehmbar, weil mit großen Segel-, Dampferund Flottenwegen, also mit Machtlinien zusammenfallend, und so würde sich die Frage für den rein ozeanischen Ostraum der südlichen Grenzzone vielleicht lösen lassen.” PAGE 113


It is obvious that on this particular point, Haushofer deliberately chooses the Greek-derived term ökumene—language of the geophysical discipline of Settlement Geography(Siedlungsgeographie) that still remains in use by physical scientists today—over the strictly German lebensraum—language of the humanistic Political Geography (Politische Geographie). In this light, I argue that scholars who only use thereception of Lebensraum ( )as a peg to trace Japanese reception of German geopolitical thought end up learning more about Friedrich Ratzel (1844-1904) than Karl Haushofer.11 The preference one over the other terminology within the larger family of Geosciences (Geowissenschaften) in 1920s40s reveals Haushofer’s priority to validate a younger and more controversial concept by marrying it to its seemingly more natural and neutral, and certainly older and more authoritative sister discipline.


To drive his point home, Haushofer focuses his theory of the “Australasian Mediterranean” (australasiatische Mittelmeer)—also a term still in academic use today—on the “Sunda-sea” (Sundasee), which is nevertheless no longer referred to as one sea in present times.12 The “Sunda Shelf” or simply “the Sunda,” with its encompassing straits and under-sea river systems dated back to the Pleistocene, is an ideal talking-point for Haushofer, given the area’s mysterious status as a half-buried block of land.13 11. Fukushima, Y. “Japanese geopolitics and its background: What is the real legacy of the past?” Political Geography, Vol. 16 (5), pp. 407-21. 1997. This is by no means to understate the widelyknown influence of Ratzel’s Politische Geographie(R. Oldenbourg, München und Leipzig 1897) on Haushofer’s formation; onthis old topic, seeSchultz, Hans-Dietrich. “Friedrich Ratzel. Bellizistischer Raumtheoretiker mit Naturgefühl oder Vorläufer der NS-Lebensraumpolitik?” in Claus Deimel, Sebastian Lentz, Bernhard Streck (Hrsg.): Auf der Suche nach Vielfalt. Ethnographie und Geographie in Leipzig. Leibniz-Institut für Länderkunde, Leipzig 2009, S. 125–142; Koch, Manfred, “Gedenktafel für einen Geographen” Blick in die Geschichte (Karlsruher stadthistorische Beiträge) Nr. 102, 21. 2014; Herwig,Holger H. “Geopolitik: Haushofer, Hitler and Lebensraum”Gray, Colin & Sloan, Geoffrey (eds.) Geopolitics, Geography and Strategy. London & Portland: Frank Cass, 1999. p. 220; Heffernan, Michael. “Fin de Siècle, Fin du Monde? On the Origins of European Geopolitics; 1890–1920", Dodds, Klaus & Atkinson, David A. (eds) Geopolitical Traditions: A Century of Geopolitical Thought. London & New York: Routledge, 2000; Smith, Woodruff D. "Friedrich Ratzel and the Origins of Lebensraum". German Studies Review. 3 (1): 51–68. 1980; Wanklyn, Harriet. Friedrich Ratzel: A Biographical Memoir and Bibliography. London: Cambridge University Press. 1961. pp. 36–40. 12. Haushofer, Pazifischen Ozeans. p. 35, 161. “...wie ja auch der pazifische Küstentyp durch die Sundasee und das australasiatische Mittelmeer hinüber in den indischen Ozean greift...” 13. Sunda, originally a fortune-invoking name in Sanskrit (Sunda, name of either Vishnu, or a son of Nisunda who killed his brother Upasundaover the beautiful Apsara Tilottama, as narrated in the Mahabharata) adopted as the name of the Sunda Kingdom, has been loosely associated with western regions of Java, and proliferated in geographical references from late medieval and early-modern histories, as well as the history of European maritime encounters in the region. Most famously, paleogeographers use the ‘Sundaland’ to refer to the region, which was exposed above sea-level throughout the last 2.6 million years. In anthropology, the biogeographic ‘Sunda’ has been used to account for the ethnogenesis of the ‘Sundanese’ people. Sunda-related geographical terms abound in German: den Sundagraben; die Sundasee; die Sundainseln (Indonesian archipelago, including Große Sundainseln and Kleine Sundainseln); den Sundabogen, etc. But the term Sundasee is almost completely out of fashion. PAGE 114


The vivid scene of Palaeolithic in-land waterways now floating underneath the ocean— waters within water—blurs the line between land, shelf and sea, continent and archipelago, fresh water and salt water, as alternative spaces for political life on equal footing. But for Haushofer, the Sunda has to be sea and not merely ‘shelf,’ in order to preserve the unity of the ‘Indo-Pacific.’ Indeed, the “Australasian Mediterranean” was, and still is,seen as the linkage between the Indian and the Pacific oceans. Once established as both a ‘former land’ and ‘current sea,’ this ‘other Mediterranean’ allows Haushofer to move back and forth between the two definitions, and thus two associated debates, making expedient arguments to fend off different objections. After all, if the Sunda is a three-fold ‘sea within a Mediterranean within an Ocean’ which cannot be easily disentangled from within, it would be more absurd to separate the two vast waters to its west and east—the Indian and the Pacific Oceans. Haushofer’s knowledge of the Sunda Strait is largely consistent with the great German oceanographer, Otto Krümmel(1854-1912)’s analysis of the Sundagebiet and Sundastraße in his Handbuch der Ozeanographie (1910) as a key maritime pathway between the Indian and Pacific Oceans, in connection to the South China Sea. But Haushofer historicises and theorises it further as a site of political life. “Purely physical demarcation is not enough here,” pronounces Haushofer, “here the stately forms of life must be questioned about their inherent will to belong,if geopolitically stable design elements are to be created.”14 It is no surprise that the Sunda strait would go on to attain even greater political significance after the publication of the Indopazifischen Raum(1939),from the Battle of Sunda Straitin 1942, where allied cruisers HMAS Perth and USS Houston were sunk by Rear Admiral Kenzaburo Hara’s amphibious force, to current events such as Joko Widodo’s highly-symbolic campaign to shelve China Railway Construction Corporation (CRCC)’s plan to build a bridge across the Sunda.15 But it suffices here to say that the Sundasee is key to the very logic of the ‘Indo-Pacific’ at the naissance of the concept. And in all of these ways, Haushofer gives credibility to his political theory of merging the two oceans into one. This impossibility of separating the Indian and Pacific maritime spacesis not only oceanographic, according to Haushofer, but also political. For example, a space such astheSea-Coast-Corridor (Küstenmeerkorridor) along the Australian-Oceanic borderline(Australisch-ozeanischen Grenzsaumes), with both Asian and American 14. Haushofer, p. 181. “Hier ist es also mit rein physischen Abgrenzungen nicht getan, hier müssen die staatlichen Lebensformen nach ihrem immanenten Zugehörigkeitswillen befragt werden, wenn geopolitisch haltbare Konstrucktionem entstehen sollen.” 15. See, Hornfischer, James D. Ship of Ghosts: The Story of the USS Houston, FDR's Legendary Lost Cruiser, and the Epic Saga of Her Survivors. Random House Publishing.2009; Winslow, Walter G. (1984). The Ghost that Died at Sunda Strait. Naval Institute Press. Winslow, Walter G. (1994). The Fleet the Gods Forgot: The U.S. Asiatic Fleet in World War II. Naval Institute Press; Bagus BT Saragih, 'RI, China ink $17b deals', The Jakarta Post, 24 March 2012; Hans David Tampubolon, 'US Bank Eyes Sunda Strait Bridge Project', The Jakarta Post, 5 July 2012; Satria Sambijantoro, 'No more Sunda Strait Bridge plan', The Jakarta Post, 3 November 2014.

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geographical features, must also be “politically torn between the two.”16 This translation from the oceanographic to the political is under-theorised by Haushofer, and many times, these causal argumentative moves seem to lack intermediary steps. But it represents a unique mode of political thinking in context, where this spatial determinism faced off rival determinisms—most notably ‘race-theory’ (rassenkunde), based on a very different set of ‘natural scientific’ evidence. For Haushofer, the link between the geological and the political is ethnography, especially the kind practised by his fellow Ratzelstudent Leo Frobenius(1873-1938),whose research Haushofer follows closely.17 The methodology of Frobenius, the savvy academic who neither associated with the race theorists nor declined research funding from the Führer or the Duce, is best remembered as tracing autochthonous variations, delineating ‘culture circles’ (Kulturkreise), and reconstructing ‘meaning’ (Sinnstiftung) out of economic structures in a procedure he calls paideuma.18 Although Frobenius focuses on Africa, his interlocutor and frequent co-presenter at the “Berlin Society for Anthropology, Ethnography and Pre-history”(Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte)Fritz Graebner (1877-1934) produced copious research papers on ‘cultural cycles and strata’ in Oceania.19 The Frobenius-Graebnermethods, Haushofer insists, proved also the only way to resurrect “Malay-Polynesian migrations and their heroic legend” at the first pendulum movement between Palaeolithic and Bronze culture. The Frobenius-Graebnermethods, Haushofer insists, proved also the only way to resurrect “Malay-Polynesian migrations and their heroic legend” at the first pendulum movement between Palaeolithic and Bronze culture. And this ethnography would, in turn, reveal that the Indo-Pacific has been highly political since the Palaeolithic age, “which the Atlantic never was.”20 By spatio-ethnography, Haushofer not only links the geological16. Haushofer, p. 35. “...schließlich der Küstenmeerkorridor, der sie mit dem Festlandrand verbindet und die Eigenart des australisch-ozeanischen Grenzsaumes, der Züge vom asiatischen, wie vom amerikanischen hat, und politisch zwischen beiden hin-und hergerissen ist. 17. Haushofer,p. 51-52. III. Eigenwuchsige Wesenszuge im pazifischen Lebensraum. “So lange, bis wir darüber genaueres erfahren werden, sind wir sicher berechtigt, das über diese feinen und verwickelten Fragen bereits Bekannte, besondersdurch die Forschungen von Frobenius neu zutage Getretene an der Stelle einzureihen, wo wir autochthone Wesensunterschiede der großen Lebensräume der Erde anerkennen müssen, auch wenn wir ihren Platz im Gesamtcharakter und ihre Entstehungsgründe noch nicht genau einsehen.” 18. Frobenius, Leo. Paideuma. Umrisse einer Kultur-und Seelenlehre. München 1921; Atlantis – Volksmärchen und Volksdichtungen Afrikas. Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Kulturmorphologie. 12 Bände. Jena: Diederichs 1921–1928; Kulturgeschichte Afrikas, Prolegomena zu einer historischen Gestaltlehre. Phaidon Verlag, Zürich 1933. 19. Graebner, Fritz. Methode der Ethnologie. Winter, Heidelberg 1911 (Kulturgeschichtliche Bibliothek); Kulturkreise und Kulturgeschichten in Ozeanien. In Zeitschrift für Ethnologie. Band 37, 1905, S. 28–53; Das Weltbild der Primitiven. Ernst Reinhardt, München 1924. 20. Haushofer, p. 51-52. “Es ist mehr als wahrscheinlich, daß er verbreitendes Mittel war bei der ersten Pendelbewegung der kultur zwischen paläolithischer und Bronze-kultur,was vielleicht noch einmal aus der Mythenbildung nachgewiesen werden kann, sowie aus der noch zu entschleiernden Frühgeschichte der malaio-polynesischen Wanderungen und ihrer Heldensage. Für diese Vorgänge ist der Pazifik ein zentrales Becken gewesen, wieder atlantische ozean es niemals war, wobei sich das weite indo-pacifische Ausbreitungsgebiet so vieler verwandter Einflüsse zwischen Howamadagassischer und amerikano-pazifischer Kultur kartographisch erfassen läßt.” PAGE 116


oceanographical to the political, but also establishes the superiority of the Indo-Pacific to the Atlantic, whence Germany had been and remained still excluded from Anglo-American domination.Parallel but not in connection to Carl Schmitt, Haushofer would go onto speculate the spatio-political effects of submarines and airplanes into the traditional Leviathan-Behemoth paradigm ofthe‘Land und Meer.’21 I.2 Toward the Sea-space as a life-space and a political space Haushofer compares this enterprise of rehabilitating the Pacific, which mirrors the European conversion of the Atlantic into its own sea, to the way the Malayo-Polynesian “wandering peoples” (schweifenden Menschen), from islands to islands, “filled in the maritime space like nomads” (den Seeraum als Nomaden erfüllten). Haushofer’s choice of the so-called ‘Malayo-Polynesians’—today a term still employed in historical linguistics, but no longer deemed an accurate reference in ethnography—as evidence for Indo-Pacific unity is a surprisingly apt one by historical standards, which builds on the most cutting-edge anthropological, oceanographic and philological research of his time. It was indeed before and around this time, when philologists such as J.C.G. Jonker(1914), Charles Otto Blagden and Renward Brandstetter(1916), Wilhelm Schmidt (1899, 1901, 1906, 1926), and Otto Dempwolff (1871-1938)discovered similarities ranging from Polynesian, Oceanic to Pilipino, South Asian, and East African languages.22 Whilst oceanographers decided that an 21. Haushofer, p. 51. Geopolitik der Großen Ozeans. “Was eine Dschunke leisten kann, die bei ihrem Kurs mit dem Absetzen der großen Meeresstromung Kuroshiwo von der mitteljapanischen Kuste (das mit der Jahreszeit wechselt), richtig rechnet, das hat das gleiche Fahrzeug, wie das große Ausliegerboot und die Prau auch vor Jahrtausenden leisten konnen. Natürlich wird es in Zukunft auch das U-Boot und das Flugzeugmutterschiff leisten konnen; Sie alle algern in ihrer kulturmorphologischen Schichtung quer uber den großen ozean hinweg, verfolgbar von der indischen inselwelt bis in die fruhamerikanischen Kulturreiche.” Contrast this ethnographical view to Schmitt’s Land und Meer. Eine weltgeschichtliche Betrachtung. Leipzig: Reclam. 1942. 22. Jonker, J.C.G.(1857-1919). Kan man bij de talen van de Indische Archipel eene westelijke en eene oostelijke afdeeling onderscheiden? Verslagen en medeelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen, 4th series, 12: 314-417.1914;1916. Blagden, Charles Otto (1864-1949), Preface. In Brandstetter, Renward (1860-1942), An introduction to Indonesian linguistics: being four essays by Renward Brandstetter. Trans. by C.O. Blagden. Royal Asiatic Society Monographs, Vol. XV. London.: vix.1916; Schmidt, Wilhelm(1868-1954). Über das Verhälltniss der melanesischen Sprachen zu den polynesischen und untereinander. Sitzungsberichte der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften, philosophish-historisch Classe, vol. CXL. Vienna. 1899; Die sprachlichen Verhältnisse von Deutsch Neuguinea. Zeitschrift fur Afrikanische, Ozeanische und Ostasiatische Sprachen 5: 354-384, 6: 1-97. 1900-1901; Die Mon-Khmer Völker: ein bindeglied zwischen Völkern Zentralasiens und Austronesiens. Braunschweig: Friedrich Vieweg und Sohn. 1906; Die Sprachfamilien und Sprachkreise der Erde. Winter, Heidelberg 1926. All of this work comes out of German philology in the second half of the 19th century: von der Gabelentz, Georg (1840-1893). Spuren eines ausgebildeten Conjugationssystems im Dayak. In: Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft (ZDMG), 14, S. 547ff. 1860; Einiges über das Verhältnis des Mafoor zum Malayischen. In: Bijdragen tot de taal-, land-en volkenkunde. Koninklijk Instituut voor de Taal-, Land-en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indie. Leiden. 1883; (with Meyer, Adolf Bernhard): Beiträge zur Kenntnis der melanesischen, mikronesischen und papuanischen Sprachen, ein erster Nachtr. zu Hans Conon's von der Gabelentz Werke „Die melanesischen Sprachen“. In: Abhandlungen der Philologisch-Historischen Klasse der Königlich-Sächsischen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften Leipzig, Bd. 8, Nr. 4. 1882; but also, of course, Bopp, Franz. Über die Verwandtschaft der malaiisch-polynesischen Sprachen mit dem Indogermanischen. Berlin, 1841. In another striking historical context, Franz Bopp wrote PAGE 117


overwhelming number of marine species flow routinely and exclusively between Madagascar and the Pacific islands,23 the linguists found that the end-point boundaries of this Austronesian language subgroup are also Malagasy as spoken in the island of Madagascar in the west, and Fijian–Polynesian in the east, respectively. In both oceanography and philology, therefore, there emerged a gradual consensus that the “South Seas” (Südsee), as a holistic maritime space, provides the explanatory framework for largescale changes beyond the farthest inklings of human civilisation. Although Haushofer includes in this realm also the Maya and Inca cultures, his emphasis at this point is still the ‘sea-nomads’ as a way of life (lebensform), eerily reminiscent of Carl Schmitt’s later designation of hostile maritime states as ‘fishmen’ (Fischmenschen),24 from whose perspective the time and space of land is “strange and incomprehensible” (fremd und unverständlich).This expression is not original to Weimar writings: both the German ambassador and Queen Victoria were reminded by Lord Salisbury that "Nous sommes des out the link between Malayo-Polynesian and Indo-European languages in the year his father passed away. His family was disturbed by the chaos of the Republic of Mainz, a historical memory which continued to haunt Bopp. The link between Prussian enlightenment thinkers and subsequent ethnographers, linguists, and political geographers is a very strong one even outside the trinity of Georg Forster, Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, and Alexander von Humboldt.Through Bopp, Haushofer inherits the Franco-Prussian Indological consciousness from the earliest generation of Sanskritists: manuscripts from Jean François Pons (1688–1752), and instructions from AntoineLéonard de Chézy (1773-1832), Silvestre de Sacy (1758-1838), Louis Mathieu Langlès (1763-1824), and which explains his obsession with Germany’s place in international Indology, and his bond with Max Müller (1823-1900), which, as I will show, is a key context to his Indo-Pacific vision. 23. Krümmel, Otto. Handbuch der Ozeanographie. Engelhorn, Stuttgart, 2 Bände, 1907-1911. He speaks of not only “Bereiche des ganzen Pazifischen und Indischen Ozeans (mit Ausnahme der höchsten Breiten)” but also “die südatlantisch-indischen” etc. p. 480. See also 489, 610, 720, Krümmel’s completion of the Handbuch der ozeanographie (1884-1887), left unfinished by Heinrich Georg von Boguslawski (1827-1884), and his succession to geographer Theobald Fischer (18461910) was a symbolic moment of the oceanographic turn in Germany, which so far lagged behind Britain, the sponsor of the 1872–1876 Challenger expedition. It was that expedition which yielded insights on the global maritime distribution of coral reef, a key evidence on Indo-Pacific continuity. Contemporary research continues to confirm the importance of the warm Indo-Pacific water as a whole to marine biodiversity. See, for example, De Deckker, P. “The Indo-Pacific Warm Pool: critical to world oceanography and world climate.” Geosci. Lett. 3, 20 (2016); Gaither, M.R., Bowen, B.W., Bordenave, al.“Phylogeography of the reef fish Cephalopholis argus (Epinephelidae) indicates Pleistocene isolation across the indo-pacific barrier with contemporary overlap in the coral triangle.” BMC Evol Bio l11,189 (2011); Hubert N, Meyer CP, Bruggemann HJ, Guérin F, Komeno RJL, Espiau B, et al. “Cryptic Diversity in Indo-Pacific Coral-Reef Fishes Revealed by DNA-Barcoding Provides New Support to the Centre-of-Overlap Hypothesis.” PLoS ONE 7(3): e28987. 2012; Maire, et al, Community-wide scan identifies fish species associated with coral reef services across the IndoPacific Proc. R. Soc. B.28520181167. 2018. 24. Haushofer, p. 131 (IX), 159-160; 171-173, 181. Schmitt, Carl. Land und Meer. Eine weltgeschichtliche Betrachtung. 1942; Stuttgart 2008, p. 10; See use of the “Fischmenschen” concept: Boelderl, Artur R. & Leisch-Kiesl Monika (eds.). Die Zukunft gehört den Phantomen: Kunst und Politik nach Derrida. Düsseldorf: Bielefeld, 2018. p. 243n43; Stillig, Jürgen. Heilige Berge: Exzellenz -Entzauberung -Absurdität. Band 1. Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 2018. Very interestingly, Reschika, Richard. Meer, du berührst meine Seele: Ein maritimes Lesebuch. n56-n57, discussion on Schmitt’s maritime thought, and its application: “Aufden Inseln der Südsee, bei polynesischen Seefahrern, Kanaken und Sawoiori, erkennt man noch die letzten Reste solcher Fischmenschen. Ihr ganzes Dasein, ihre Vorstellungswelt und Sprache war meerbezogen.” PAGE 118


poissons.”25 In 1922, Eliot’s The Waste Land featured “fishmen”as a amphibious-hybrid metaphor for Englishness, which could have derived from the problematic of Caliban in the Tempest,“a man or a fish?.... Legged like a man and his fins like arms!” who is “no fish, but an islander” (2.2.25-37).26 In fact, one should not even think that the land v. sea trope in Anglo-German thought arose only in the wake of overseas colonial expansion and global naval rivalry. Rather, this metaphorical language of political topography goes back further in ‘earlier-modern’ times, prominent already in Der Weisskunig (1500s-1510s), in which the Hapsburg Empire is ruled by the old and new “White Kings”—Maximilian I and his father Frederick III—France by a ‘Blue King’—maritime enough, but not as much as the Venetian‘King of Fish.’ The Weisskunig’s acquisition of “many cities of the King of Fish without large opposition”27 might well have been captured in a leisurely portrait of Maximillan ‘fishing’ (circa 1514-1516),by the Augsburg-based painter Leonhard Beck, or in the treatise on fishing by Maximillan’s royal painter Jörg Kölderer, Das Tiroler Fischereibuch (1504).28 This is to say that identifying alien maritime powers has been a consistent theme in German-language intellectual traditions even beyond the history of Prussian political thought on spaces between states. Oddly enough, Haushofer offers a Herodotian-style speculation on the natural causes of the Indo-Pacific way of life, that the “virile nobility” of Indo-Pacific leaders eschewed the corruption that comes with a settled ‘stately form of life’ (staatlichen Lebensformen).Clearly, Haushofer reimagines maritime-nomadic political life through popular narratives of terrestrial steppe cultures. After all, in addition to the “Blue King” and the “Fish King,” there was yet another “Green King” of the steppe—obviously Hungary—which completed the full ‘trinity of three kingdoms.’One may easily notice that these cases and concepts, motifs and metaphors which are key to Haushofer’s political oceanographic thought are not common to the next generation of geopolitical theorists. To explain why, and to further explicate the contexts of Haushofer’s invention and intervention, it is necessary to consider his intellectual debt to the Prussian tradition, and involvements in discussions on India and China in interwar Germany.

25. Massie, Robert K. Dreadnought: Britain, Germany, and the Coming of the Great War. New York & Toronto, Random House, 1991. P. 201. 26. Eliot, The Waste Land, 263; Shakespeare, Tempest, 2.2.25-37. 27. Weisskunig, 1956, Kap 157. For example,“als der blaue Konig mit dem Konig von Fisch Krieg fuhrte, da entschloss sich auch der Weisskunig einzugreifen; nach der Niederlage des Konigs vom Fisch gegen den blauen Konig, konnte der Weisskunig ohne grosse Gegenwehr viele stadte des Konigs vom Fisch einnehmen.” See more in (ed) Helmrath, Johannes; Kocher, Ursula; Sieber,Andrea. Maximilians Welt : Kaiser Maximilian I. im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innovation und Tradition. Göttingen : V & R unipress, 2018. 28. British Museum 1837,0616.276. Corresponds to plate 36 of the 1775 edition and pp.90-1 of the text. On the Weisskunig project see also Curatorial Comment for Y,8.164. The young Weisskunig fishing: Maximilian standing on the shores of a lake angling. He is surrounded by a group of anglers with fishing lines and other instruments. In the background a landscape with a castle on the borders of another lake, on its shores another figure resembling Maximilian to whom someone explains how to fish with nets and a boat. Early proof. c.1514-6 Woodcut; Das Tiroler Fischereibuch Maximilians I. Codex Vindobonensis 7962. Copy in Morgan Library, New York. PAGE 119


Part II. The Genesis of the ‘Indo-Pacific’ Theory in Three Contexts II.1 Prussian Contexts of Karl Haushofer’s Maritime Spatial Thought There is a salient Prussian subtext, if not pretext, to Karl Haushofer’stheoretical innovations in the invention of the ‘Indo-Pacific.’At the very first invocation of the term in his 1924 treatise,Haushofer at length evokes memories of Prussian enlightenment thinkers and practitioners who entertained high hopes for the country’s global engagements. Praising the ‘Anglo-Saxons’as a whole for having allegedly“awakened the slumbering gigantic space”of the ocean to even a greater extent than the Iberian and Romance peoples, he praises the very few Germans prior to his time who “saw it a possible task for humanity and even for their own people”to venture into the Indian and Pacific oceans. These include the naturalist and revolutionary Georg Forster(1754-1794), whose career of theorising the steppe before venturing onto the sea echoes Haushofer’s own order of engagements; Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859), whom the wanderlust Haushofer dubbed “the traveller”;and most interestingly, the refugee trader Johann Cesar VI. Godeffroy(18131885),“the first practical entrepreneur”who symbolically fled the land of the philosophes and religious persecution in 1737to start a commercial empire in the German city of Hamburg.29 The effusive eulogies levelled at Forster and Godeffroy in Haushofer’s deeply German-centric thesis seem puzzling at the first sight, given these figures’ own deep connections with Anglo-French intellectual traditions, and either lack of interest or outright rejection of Prussian politics. But they also serve the purpose for exactly the same reason: Haushofer capitalises on the idea that the inheritors of the global-commercial ideals, who either martyred in revolutionary frenzies or fled tyrannies at ‘the end of Enlightenment’are true heirs of one tradition and founders of another one—this time carried forth in Germany by such intellectual giants as Humboldt—the supposed link between Enlightenment and Romanticism. Moreover, all three men are linked through one knot: their intellectual or monetary interests in the Indian and Pacific Oceans. In order to further deflate the horizonbreaking maritime achievements of the “Romance”peoples in the expansion of the oceanic frontiers, Haushofer thoroughly discredits the dominium maris tradition of non-Germanic Europe ever since the Phoenicians. Here, although he is neither able to enlist any mythic proto-Germanic figures, nor willing to redeploy the trope of pseudo-Frankish-Germanic Troy v. proto-Greco-Latin Achaeans,30 he reaches out to orientalism to fill in where antiquarianism proves insufficient. To the maritime activity of the Mediterranean peoples from the Phoenicians to the Romans, and subsequently “Iberian and French contributions,” he stingily and sardonically ascribes the label, ‘more littoral and thallasic than oceanic’(mehr litoral und thalassisch als ozeanisch)—that is, certainly,by the standards of not the Germans 29. Haushofer, p.11: (Zur Einführung). “Die angelsachsen haben den schlummernden riesenraum aufgeweckt, was weder Iberer, noch andere Romanen vermocht hatten, und worin in deutschland nur ganz wenige Männer eine überhaupt mögliche aufgabe der menschheit und gar ihres eigenen volkes sahen, wie Forster, Humboldt als Weltfahrer und das Hamburger Haus Godeffroy als erste praktische Unternehmer.” 30. For a discussionon how Francio, the other son of Priam, might have settled on the Rhine, see Huppert, George. “The Trojan Franks and their Critics” Studies in the Renaissance, Vol. 12, pp. 227241. 1965 PAGE 120


but the Arabs and the Chinese, who would come across each other, from time to time, “in their [the Chinese’s] Indo-oceanic area (von Chinesen ab und zu in ihrem indo-zeanischen Bereich durchfahren).”31 What to make of Haushofer’s casual assignment of the “Indooceanic realm”to Chinese proprietorship in episodes of Sino-Arab maritime encounters? And what historical episodes could hebe referring to?Looking past the steppe-style clash of the Abbasid Caliphate and the Tang Empire in the Battle of Talas(751 AD), Haushofer could only jump straight to the height of Sino-Arab maritime trade in the 14th-15th century, drawing from the epic expeditions of ZhengHe’s treasure fleet from Southeast Asia to Arabia—in other words, across the entire (later) non-Anglo-American portion of the Indo-Pacific—with some vague implications on maritime custodianship if not sovereignty. Evidently, this is far from any accurate representation of how the navigators themselves conceived their project, who coveted anything but spaces filled with Chinese expats. On this point, let it suffice to say that to categorise bodies of Southeast Asian Chinese expats as ‘Tang people’ in Yingya Shenglan ( ) is to place them outside, temporally and spatially, Ming jurisdiction.32 But to Haushofer, one historical episode, or even anecdote of Sino-Arabian Indo-Pacific dominance suffices to dwarf the historical foundation of any Euro-American claim to maritime domination in Indo-pacific colonialism. With‘smallness thrust upon them’by Haushofer,Germany’s maritime European rivals are deprived of historical legitimacy, hence contemporary agency, in this reconstruction of the Indo-Pacific space.But to fully unravel Haushofer’s deployment of oriental evidence to make a case for his remaking of the IndoPacific, it is important to consider oriental studies and orientalism as another major context and subtext of Haushofer’s project.


II.2 Haushofer’s Eastern Contexts: The Politics of Indology and Sinology Another layer of knowledge-formation that undergirds Haushofer’s Indo-Pacific thesis is his politico-intellectual investments in India and China, through both interpersonal connections across Eurasian continent and academic circles within Germany. Here, given the singular place of Japan(the subject of Part III), to which Haushofer devoted no fewer 31. Haushofer, Karl. Geopolitik der Pan-Ideen, 1931. p. 54. “...mehr litoral und thalassisch als ozeanisch steuern die Phoeniker, Hellenen, Romer und Romanen, diese in iberischer, dann franzosischer Fortwirkung bei; Araber bauen (von Chinesen ab und zu in ihrem indo-zeanischen Bereich durchfahren) die von Admiral Ballard in “The rulers of the Indian Ocean” beschriebene Indeologie des Indischen Ozeans aus, ehe isch die Iberer, Niederlander, Franzosen, Briten ihrer der Reihe..."

國有三等⼈,⼀等回回⼈,皆是西番各為商流落此地,⾐⻝ 諸般皆精緻。⼀等唐⼈,皆廣東、漳、泉等處⼈竄居此地,⽇⽤美潔,多有皈從回回教⾨受戒持齋者。 ⼀等⼟⼈,形貌甚醜⿊,猱頭⾚腳,崇信⻤教。佛典⾔⻤國其中,即此地也” Translation: There are 32. See section on Yavadvipain Indonesia, “

three classes of subjects in this country. One order is that of the Muslims, expatriated tradesmen from western barbarian lands. These men have detailed and delicate tastes in such matters as clothing and cuisine. Another class is that of the Tang people, consisting of Cantonese, Changchowese, and Chinchewese populations who have fled and settled in this land. They are attentive to tidiness and sanitation in daily lives, many of whom actually converted to Islam and now practice fasting and worship. There is another class of indigenous people, ugly and dark, with an ape’s head and bare feet, worshipping a certain cult of ghosts. The ‘country of ghosts’ in Buddhist texts refers to this place.”Ma, Huan ( ), Ying Ya Sheng Lan( ).



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than eight treatises between 1913 and 1941, it is tempting to neglect the vitally important contexts of India and China in his initial conception of a political Indo-Pacific space. Here, I argue that Japan’s special status in Haushofer’s theories, the enthusiastic reception of Haushofer in Japanese academic and political circles, and after all, the historical fact of the Tripartite Pact, should not overshadow India and China as two stimulating case-studies which fuelled the spatial imaginations of the political geographer in the interwar period. In fact, Haushofer considered the Indo-Pacific case of Japanto be a simpler one than what he called the “hermaphrodite and transitional spaces”(Zwitter-und übergangsraume) between terrestrial and maritime forms of political life, or the “Inner Crescent”(Inneren Halbmonds).By this concept,Haushofer receives, but diverges from Halford Mackinder(1861-1947)’s theory of the Inner v. Outer Crescent, which along with Georg Simmel(1858-1918)’s ‘spatial sociology’(Raumsoziologie)proved the more direct influence on Nicholas J. Spykman(18931943)’s conceptualisation of the “Rimland.”33 Here, in stark contrast to the Anglo-American school of ‘crescent theories,’which stipulate from the perspectives of large powers that terrestrial and maritime giants are doomed to clash over the area which lies in between, Haushoferis more concerned with the question of ‘sovereign space’from the point of view of the local peoples—how modern bounds of statehood could—or indeed, couldn’t—match onto the complex geographical features of their variegated territories, which have formed through long historical processes.Or, the question is, how to balance the ‘state-idea’and the ‘land-concept’(Reichsgedanke und Länderbegriff)?34 Haushofer believes that the way China eventually resolves this question will apply equally to Central Europe, Near East and Middle East. Along with his chief Indian liaison Benoy Sarkar(1887-1949), Haushofer speculated that the unfolding of the Chinese republican revolution of 1911, which had by 1924 descended into a chaotic struggle for power in the old imperial capital, reveals the future solution of the Indian imperial question.This thought falls neatly in line with the prevalent interwar conceptualisations of the tightly connected fates of Indian and Chinese republicanisms, as revealed in recent works on the League Against Imperialism.35 Curiously, although when Haushofer wrote this treatise, all international eyes were on Cao Kun’s colourful election briberies and Duan Qirui’s simmering coup d’état(1923-1924), Haushofer asserted that the latent powers for paradigmchanges resided instead in two figures only: ‘Condottieri-Generalgouverneur’ Chang-tsolinof Manchuria, and Sun Yat-sen of Sikiang—“the prototype of Anglicised-Reformed 31. Spykman, Nicholas J. The Geography of the Peace, New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company (1944); The Social Theory of Georg Simmel, Chicago: University of Chicago Press (1925). 34. Haushofer, pp. 171-172. “Was ist--geopolitisch betrachtet-der Kern aller chinesischen Reichsfragen? Doch das Verhältnis zwischen Reichsgedanke und Länderbegriff in jener uralten Pendelbewegung zwischen dem möglichst geringen, aber zum Zusammenhalten noch ausreichenden Maß an Zentralismus und einem Grad von Regionalismus, der den für das Kultur-und Wirtschaftsganze notwendigen Zusammenhalt nicht mehr bestehen läßt, so daß bei Ausschreitungen die Gegenbewegung mit einer Sicherheit eintritt, die wirin anderen Erdräumen nicht kennen und die deshalb die 4000 jahrige Dauer der lebensform gerade durch dieses blühen im wechselden rhythmus ermöglichte.” 35. One example is Luoro, Michele. Comrades against Imperialism Nehru, India, and Interwar Internationalism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018. PAGE 122


Chinese”(anglisierten Reform-chinesen).The two coastal-maritime habitats by which these two camps are identified: access to West Pacific via Bohai and Yellow Sea, and the waterways from the Pearl River delta to the South Seas, Indian Ocean, and Southwestern Pacific, captured Haushofer’s imagination above all other dramas in the terrestrial Central Plain of the Middle Kingdom. His prediction of China’s political future would turn out to be surprisingly accurate within the six years, when the second-generation leaders of these two camps would for the first time unify Republican China, in name if not in effect. Haushofer’s intense interest and high hope for China as a key player in the ‘Indo-Pacific’is a product of his time and his own intellectual encounters. At that time, German ethnography was a mediating ground for geo-oceanographers and comparative philologists. Haushofer in his writings humbly defers all matters Sinic, ancient and modern, to the authority of Sanskritist-turned-Sinologist Otto Francke(1863-1946), who was, according toHellmut Wilhelm, the “Nestor of German sinology.”36 Haushofercompares Francke’s “Ostasiatischen Neubildungen” (1911) and “Großmächten in Ostasien”(1923) to Sarkar’s “Futurism of Young Asia” (1917-1918) as two sources on Indo-Pacific consciousness.37 Indeed, Haushofer counts on young, and preferably German-trained Chinese and Indians to unleash a new wave of national self-determination throughout Eurasia that would offset Euro-American colonial influences. In 1923, when Haushofer was finalising his tract on the Indo-pacific, his main source on China, Otto Francke, assumed the Chair of Sinology at the University of Berlin vacated by the Dutch sinologist J. J. M. de Groot (1854-1921), a coronation highly symbolic of Germany’s persistent pre-eminence in oriental studies, despite the humiliating surrender of Tsingtao to Anglo-Japanese naval forces, followed by the permanent cession of Jiaozhou Bay (Kiautschou Deutsches Schutzgebiet) to Japan in Paris. Paradigmatically, Tsingtao was held out and given up by students and alumni of Haushofer’s university, where he himself studied and cited Anglo-American authors such as Admiral Ballard(1862-1948)’s reference to Von Spee(1861-1914)’s undeserved defeat as symptomatic o fthe delicate balance of maritime power off the East China Sea.38 With the election of Francke in the meantime, 36. Wilhelm, Hellmut (1949) “German Sinology Today” in The Far Eastern Quarterly. 8 (3): 319–322. 37. Haushofer, p. 172 “ O Francke in seinen "Ostasiatischen Neubildungen" und den "Großmächten in Ostasien" scheint mir unter den Schriftstellern des atlantischen Kreises, Sarkar, der Inder, namentlich in seinem "Futurism of Young Asia" von solchen des indopazifischen diese Entwicklung geopolitisch am klarsten vor Augen zu führen.”; Otto Francke: Ostasiatische Neubildungen. Beiträge zum Verständnis der politischen und kulturellen Entwicklungs-Vorgänge im Fernen Osten. Mit einem Anhange: Die sinologischen Studien in Deutschland (Hamburg: Boysen, 1911); Francke, Die grossmächte in Ostasien von 1894 bis 1914. Braunschweig, G. Westermann, 1923. Sarkar, Benoy Kumar. “Futurism of Young Asia” International Journal of Ethics Vol. 28, No. 4 (Jul., 1918), pp. 521541. The text was delivered as a lecture in 1917 at then-excellent Clark University. 38. Ballard, George. Rulers of the Indian Ocean. London: Duckworth & Co. 1927. p. 314. “...but a detached squadron of American cruisers based on the Philippines—of the composition of the German force stationed at Tsingtao under Von Spee in July 1914—would be a very grave danger to the British situation in the East, unless masked by at least an equal force based on Singapore. Von Spee was compelled to retreat across the Pacific because the whole Japanese navy joined in the hunt against him...” PAGE 123


however, Germany claimed the world’s centre-stage for Sinology, as the next generation sinologists in all major western countries would be first groomed in the German school: George Kennedy (1901-1960) of Yale, Étienne Balazs (1905-1963) of the École des hautes études, Wolfram Eberhard (1909-1989) of Berkeley.For most of the time in the 19th-and early 20th-centuries,elections to chairs of Indology and Sinology in Europe always carried political meanings, the most dramatic instance whereof proved to be the public bid for the Boden Professor of Sanskrit by Max Müller (1823-1900) and Monier Williams (1819-1899). On December 7th 1860, amidst marches and manifestoes, non-resident dons and faraway Masters alumni rode on special trains back to Oxford to indulge the proper Englishman Monier Williams with a majority of 220 votes over his ‘continental’ and ‘philosophical’ German opponent.39 In the wake of the Indian Rebellion of 1857, the Oxford electorate grew profoundly suspicious of German orientalists, especially such liberal Christians as Max Müller, despite the man’s evidently greater command of historical philology.This election has been widely remembered by German orientalists as a chief example of English academic prejudice, or English injustice, per se. Haushofer maintained contact with Müller through scholarly societies such as the Asiatic Society of Bengal. Although Sanskrit was never his fort, Haushofer closely followed Müller’s linguistic theories of proto-Indo-European, which Walther Wüstwould spin to Dietrich Eckart’s liking. So, refrained from wading into deep Vedic waters,Haushofer wisely enlisted collaborators. In 1928, he co-founded the India Institute of the Deutsche Akademie with the anti-British Bengali intellectual Tarak Nath Das (1884-1958), who brought from the Kansas Leavenworth prison to Munich grave grievances in the 1917 “Hindu-German Conspiracy Trial,” a book recently completed in California entitled Is Japan a menace to Asia? prefaced by the Chinese politician Tang Shaoyi (1862-1938)with an appendix by the Kokumin Shimbun ( ) editor-in-chief Lichiro Tokutomi (Soho Tokutomi, 1863-1957), as well as an ambitious plan to bring Indian students en masse to German education.40 This institute they co-founded to foster Indo-German connection would be renamed none other than “Max Müller Bhavan.”41Indeed, the program recruited most students from the Arya


39. "Editorial" The Times. 29 October 1860; "University Intelligence" in the Times (dates: 15, 16, 23, 28 May, 27 June, 17 August, 22, 31 October, 22 November, 8 December) 1860; "Boden Sanscrit Professorship". The Observer. 3 June 1860. See also, Chaudhuri, Nirad C. Scholar extraordinary: the life of professor the Rt. Hon. Friedrich Max Muller. Chatto & Windus. 1974; Dowling, Linda (March 1982). "Victorian Oxford and the Science of Language". Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 97 (2). pp. 160–178. 1982; Beckerlegge, Gwilym. "Professor Friedrich Max Müller and the Missionary Cause". In Wolfe, John (ed.). Religion in Victorian Britain. V –Culture and Empire. Manchester University Press. 1997. 40. The author published the booklet in Shanghai, 1917. The copy consulted here is at Cornell University Library. Tang Shaoyi ( ) served as Premier of the Republic of China; Lichiro Tokutomi ( )sometimes misspelled as Ichiro Tokutomi ( ) by compassionate Anglophone archivists who omit the syllable for ‘swine,’ is, as far as I’m aware, the original name of the right-wing Japanese thinker Soho Tokutomi ( )





41. Zachariah, Benjamin. p. 190.“Transfers, Formations, Transformations? Some Programmatic Notes on Fascism in India, c. 1922-1938” Feuchter, Jörg & Hoffmann, Friedhelm & Yun, Bee (eds.). Cultural Transfers in Dispute: Representations in Asia, Europe and the Arab World since the Middle Ages. Frankfurt: Campus, 2011. pp. 167-192. PAGE 124


Samaj (आयसमाज), a right-wing organisation which propagates the theory of Hindu Aryans as recorded in the very Vedaswhich Max Müller brought to the forefront of Indology. In addition, Haushofer appointed a co-director for the India Institute, Franz Thierfelder (18961963), known for his fierce linguistic policy to internationalise German. Thanks to a fallout with Haushofer and thus also with the academicNazi establishment, Thierfelder would be able to continue his promotion of German after WWII, albeit in the new form of the Goethe Institut.42 All in all, Haushofer’s connection with Sarkar and Das, and ties to German Sinology and Indology,drew him to a larger Indo-Eurasian political oceanography in which a Germanised India plays a key role in undermining British imperial power.

Part III. Indo-Pacific as a Strategy III.1 Maritime Indo-Pacific Belt and the Continental-block Like many of his contemporaries, Haushofer offers an idiosyncratic answer to why industrialisation prospered in the Atlantic and faltered in Asiain the two preceding centuries. Expectedly, it rests on the spatial structure of the “Indo-Pacific” at large. According to this theory, the expansive traffic-space (Verkehrsraum)and the confined settlementspace(Siedlungsräume)are decidedly out of proportion in the geographically diverse IndoPacific. Therefore, despite their seemingly large extent, these countries have been constantly and serially strained by population control. But given that this population pressure had always gradually dissipated at the hands of customary self-control, it never boiled to the point of propelling an industrial breakthrough.His realistic solution, then, is to strike“a bearable balance between popular-pressure and tight-space” (erträglicher Ausgleich zwischen Volksdruck und Raumenge), which is logically different from Walter Christaller(1893-1969)’s ‘empty space’(Freiraum) theories rolled out in 1940-1941.43 But in a turn of events, Christaller would escaped post-war trials which took Haushofer’s life, before joining the Communist Party and KPD, and applying his geography to the rather ‘tight spaces’ of European tourism. Haushofer’s approach to studying population, which applies to both the Eurasian ‘continental block’ and the maritime ‘Indo-Pacific’concerns not only the economic activity but also an artistic stimulus, whereby the incredibly complex sociological forms in Central 42. Kathe, Steffen R. Cultural policy at any price. The History of the Goethe-Institut1951 to 1990. Meidenbauer Verlag, Munich 2005/Trier, Univ., Diss., 2002. Michels, Eckard. German as a World Language? Franz Thierfelder, the German Academy in Munich and the promotion of the German language abroad. 1923 to 1945. In German History. 22, 2, 2004, pp. 206-228. Michels, Eckard. From the German Academy to the Goethe-Institut. Language and Foreign Cultural Policy 1923-1960. Oldenbourg, Munich 2005 ( Studies of Contemporary History , 70). Franz Thierfelder in Munzinger Archive. 24/1963. 43. Christaller, Walter. Die zentrale Grundgedanken zum Siedlungs-und Verwaltungsaufbau im Osten. In: Neues Bauerntum, Jg. 32, 1940, S. 305–312. Raumtheorie und Raumordnung. In: Archiv für Wirtschaftsplanung, Jg. 1, 1941, S. 116–35. Die zentralen Orte in den Ostgebieten und ihre Kulturund Marktbereiche, Teil 1: Von Struktur und Gestaltung der zentralen Orte des Deutschen Ostens. Koehler, Leipzig 1941 PAGE 125


Europe, Italy, India, parts of China(east coast and central plain)and Japan may be explained.44 These two sets of examples: densely populated Mediterranean and Central Europe, on the one hand, and overly-crowded Indian, Chinese and Japanese urban spaces, on the other, together form a counterpart to the Atlantic world, which he dubs Eur-Amerika. Here, he again invokes the opinion of the Nazi-friendly Sarkar, who approved of Haushofer’s Indo-Pacific v. Euro-America distinction.45 Haushoferis deeply suspicious of the prospect that the ‘American Mediterranean,’which is deeply Atlantic-European in nature and organisation, would be replicated in the Australasian Mediterranean. He rambles on: how the U.S. has taken over the‘Pacific thresholds’of Panama, Cuba, Puerto Rico, San Domingo, Virgin Islands, and Haiti—together 282,000 square miles with almost 20 million inhabitants —greatly outnumbering the then 245,000 square kilometres and about 400,000 inhabitants of the German South Sea Empire.46 This jealousy of the size of habitats and inhabitants shows that,conscious of a German v. American race to make Indo-Pacific mediterraneans, Haushofer intends to offset Euro-American pressures by integrating the terrestrial Eurasian ‘road’ in the north and the maritime Indo-pacific ‘belt’in the south. Another key to fulfilling this goal is to play down any attempt to distinguish the ‘more Indian’ from the ‘more Pacific’within this ‘maritime belt,’in public debates over the selfdetermination of Southeast Asia, the melting pot of Sinic and Hindu influences since antiquity.Against those who suggest that these two elements are so different that even European colonialists resorted to different approaches of governance, Haushofer replies that in any case,for the best ‘cultural politicians’to govern any of the Indo-pacific life-spaces really well would require a unified approach. He also warns against taking too much geographical peculiarities into account, which he thinks is the reason why local colonial governors adopt harsher measures than those emanating directly from the home country.In these arguments, Haushofer wars against the use of cultural geography in the demarcation of maritime political spaces. The Hindu-Sinic cultural divide disturbs the calm objectivity of more geophysical features, such as the life cycles of marine species, the procession of oceanic currents, and the direction of sea winds. Since he himself is neither Sinologist nor Indologist, he struggles to invent a cultural-geographical theory which would unite the SinoHindu spheres of the Indo-Pacific.In the 21st century, this same question on the physical unity and cultural disunity of the ‘Indo-Pacific’would invite an easier answer for the Abe, Modi and Pompeo governments: the electoral, representative, liberal-democratic institutions of Japan and India would be the common ground for such a ‘cultural’unity. But even in the here and now,it must be acknowledged that political influences of India and China are rather evenly divided in South and Southeast Asia. 44. Haushofer, p. 101-102: (VII. Pazifische Soziologie). “...wie ist ein erträglicher Ausgleich zu finden zwischen Volksdruck und Raumenge, wie hat man sich vor allem da zu verhalten, wo zunächst nicht ausgewichen werden kann, wie in Mitteleuropa, Italien, Japan, in Teilen von China und Indien? Die Erforschung dieser Seite der Bevölkerungsfrage hat neben der volkswirtschaftlichen Wchtigkeit gerade in der Südsee wegen des verwirrenden soziologischen Formenreichtums einen großen , künstlerischen Reiz, den erfasssen muß, wer wirklich allen abstufungen gerecht werden will und den bisher leider mehr genial schildernde Liebhaber als wissenschaftlich arbeitende Volkswirte erfaßt haben.” 45. Haushofer, p. 117-118 (VIII. Der Einbruch der weiSen Rasse). 46. Haushofer, ibid.

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III.2 Manila and Malacca: the ‘Indo-Pacific’ as a Bulwark against Anglo-American Influences Haushofer’s harshest words are reserved for the American transplantation of “Atlantean” model of imperialism into the Indo-Pacific Philippines. Here, the Reich’s would-be crown geopolitician blasts ‘imperialism’through the explicit language of comparative political theory. He mocks the U.S.for not recognising the appeal of a peculiar sense of selfdetermination amongst the Indo-Pacific peoples, whose indigenous methods strike a greater political balance than those of the Eur-Americans, which are seen unfavourably“ through the eyes of Buddha, Gandhi, and Tagore,”and inferior to the standards of Chinese political philosophy.47 Praising the Indo-Pacificians for their more sensible and unified sense of culture and worldview in the‘space of monsoon-land’than their European counterparts, Haushofer points to semantic ‘disharmonies’ in geographic names of this region—Indochina, Australasia, Malaysia, Malay-Asia and ‘Insulindia’(maritime Southeast Asia, an obsolete term)—self-revelatory of “how much the tensions were aware, whoever influenced them,”and unable to escape the notice of East Asians who are “particularly sensitive to names and puns.”48 Haushofer exhorts the form-torn and soul-torn Indo-Pacific to self-determination—that is, surely, from Anglo-American-Dutch-Portuguese influence, and to the interest of Germany. Haushofer’s emphasis is not only on the American Manila but also on the British Singapore, both urban centres in their respective ‘Mediterraneans,’ as geopolitical manometers of the larger Indo-Pacific. These manometers, in turn, are determined by a set of vectors, including capital, culture, urbanisation and marginal growths.No doubt, his designation of the strait of Malacca as the “The key point in the Indo-Pacific”(Der indopazifische Schlüsselpunkt), echoings Admiral Ballard’s selection of Singapore as the “proper watching station for ships covering the Indian Ocean,”49 follows the four-centurylong tradition of Portuguese, Dutch and English political thought-experiments on inter-state justice centred around Macao and Malacca. There is, however, a more pressing political context to his crowning of Malacca. Malaysia in 1910s-1920s witnessed the consolidation of seven polities under the British imperial paramountcy: the Straits Settlements, the Federated Malay States (FMS), Perlis, Kedah, Kelantan, Terengganu and Johore. A further entrenched British presence in this period marked the official end of lingering Dutch influence in the region which had waned steadily throughout the Napoleonic wars, 47. Haushofer, p. 231 (XVI: Imperium pacificum und Selbstbestimmung): “In diesem Lichte müssen auch solche Landschaften betrachtet werden, die wir später als Hauptrollenträger in der kalifornischen, wie der Philippinenfrage, als Druckmesser für das Verhältnis zwischen Japan, Ostasien und den Vereinigten Staaten vorführen werden. An ihnen erhellt, daß es einen Sondertyp pazifischer Selbstbestimmungsideale gibt, der sich vom atlantischen unterscheidet, und der auch auf die Formen des Imperialismus im Pazifik umgestaltend einwirkt. Es erhellt auch, daß ein stärkerer Ausgleichszug darin herrscht, als in der atlantischen Welt, deren Methoden man im Indo-Pazifik vielfach mit den Augen Buddhas, Gandhis, und Tagores ansieht, und unvorteilhaft mit den Maßstäben der chinesischen Staatsphilosophie auswählend vergleicht. 48. Haushofer, 1924, Chapter 13, p. 182 49. Ballard, p. 311 PAGE 127


declined precipitously from the Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1824 to the Pangkor Treaty of 1874, and almost vanished by the Anglo-Siamese Treaty of 1909.50 When Haushofer crafted his first thesis on the Indo-Pacific, however, the English had not yet fully reorganised or militarised this loose string of territories under the Crown. But anticipating such a move— which would not come about until the end of Second World War—Haushofer speculated, “the expansion into a first-rank sea base would not fail as a simultaneously reassuring and admonishing symbol of England’s overshadowing in Dutch India, and as a soulstrengthening one in Australia.”51 In both case sof Manila and Malacca, Haushofer’s intention to breathe political life into the Indo-Pacific Ocean is clear from a strategic standpoint. Given the long history of EurAmerican involvement in South, Southeast and East Asia, it was both too late and too costly for Germany to operate as a colonial-imperial power in the region. Haushofer’s solution is to convert the Indo-Pacific into a self-conscious political body, with German-educated Indian leaders on the front lines of anti-colonial resistance, and with German-trained Chinese soldiers behind Beiyang and Nationalist barricades alike. In this way, a soft but robust maritime Indo-Pacific belt would complement Germany’s continental developments in good times, and come to its rescue in the absence of good fortune.But even without German leadership, the region would cast down the shackles of British and French colonial possessions—with German theory, and German arms. Part IV. The Spectre of the ‘Indo-Pacific’: Japanese Debates over Pan-Asianism But both to further elucidate the legacy of Haushofer’s Indo-Pacific theory, and to disentangle its flurry of political reincarnations in interwar and post-war Japan,it is necessary to tease out the layered receptions of Haushoferin the evolving contexts of Japanese thought.Did, and if so, how and to what extent did Haushofer’s ‘Indo-Pacific’ concept, scattered also in his contributions to Zeitschrift für Geopolitik,52 filter into ‘Greater Asianist’ and ‘Pan-Asianist’ discourses?53 Strikingly, Haushofer’s various ZfG papers on East Asia,though never published as volume in German, were selectivelyt ranslated in one Japanese edition under the title, Geopolitics of Greater Asia( ).54 This ‘unintended’ intervention in ‘greater-Asianism’ not only reached pan-Asianist thinkers such


50. Roff, Willam R. The Origins of Malay Nationalism. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967. 51. Haushofer, 1924, Chapter 23 (Eigenart der pazifischen Wehrgeographie), p. 317-318. “Der indopazifische Schlüsselpunkt ist die Straße von Malakka und der Ausbau zu einer Seebasis ersten Ranges würde nicht verfehlen, in Niederländisch-Indien als gleichzeitig beruhigendes und mahnendes Sinnbild der überschattung durch England, in Australien als Seelenstärkung zu wirken.” 52. Karl Haushofer, "Bericht aus dem indopazifishen raum" in Zeitschrift fur geopolitik 17 (Nov., 1940), pp. 556-60 53. Hotta, Eri. Pan-Asianism and Japan's War 1931-1945. 2007; Saaler, Sven & Koschmann, J. Victor (eds). Pan-Asianism in Modern Japanese History: Colonialism, Regionalism and Borders. New York: Routledge. 2007.

⽯島栄)& Kimura, Taro(⽊村太郎), translation of Haushofer, Karl (カール・ハウスホ ーファー ⼤東亜地政治学. Tokyo: 投資経済社出版部, 1941. 54. Ishijima,Sakae( ).

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as the “Common Community of East Asia” theorist Royama Masamichi and his colleagues at the think tank Showa Kenkyukai ( ), the militarist philosopher Kanokogi Kazunobu, and the leftist-Pacifist Yoshitaro Hirano,55 but also fuelled a wave of “Greater Asia” geopolitical scholarship: prolific traveller Matsukawa Jiro, Manchuria-expert Kawanishi Seikan, and prominent geographer Saneshige Komaki, all published treatises on the geopolitics of Greater Asia in 1942—which eventually merged with other streams of panAsianist thoughts, such as that of Kiyoshi Miki, intothe co-prosperity project.56 Komaki’s project of Japanising geopolitics(Nihon chiseigaku)at Kyoto’s Department of Geography, both under and against Haushofer’s influence, co-existed with the philosophers who gathered on campus.The geographers and philosophers, both with plenty to offer to Japanese grand strategy, set off a ‘tale of two Kyoto Schools’at the site of the 1929 Institute of Pacific Relations conference. Whereas the Haushofer-minded Kyotoists were closer to the Imperial Army, the Heidegger-groomed Kyotoists cozied up to the imperial navy.57


Writing on Japan’s “New East Asia Order”in 1941,Kenneth W. Colegrove already sensed something to the effect of a geopolitical boom under German influence.58 Even if so, Haushofer’s ‘Indo-Pacific’ view of geopolitics was only one petal of a flower, and it is difficult to say whether his or ‘more Japanese’ political geographies, or more indigenous forms of pan-Asianism, or the philosophers and economists who have or have not studied abroad,or yet Japanisers of the Monroe Doctrine who viewed Asia as Japan’s South America, proved




55. Royama Masamichi ( , 1895-1980), ( , 1884-1949), Yoshitaro Hirano ( , 1897-1980). Saaler & Szpilman, Pan-Asianism, vol. 2, 149-54, 271-80. Matten, pp. 24-25n41.

松川⼆郎著. ⼤東亞地政治學東京: 霞ケ関書房, 1942.3; 川西正鑑著, 東亜地政学の構想. 東京: 實業之 ⽇本社, 1942.3; ⼩牧実繁. 地政学上より⾒たる⼤東亜. ⽇本放送出版協会・ラジオ新書, 1942; ⼩牧 published a ⼤東亜地政學新論Kyoto: 星野書店, Dec. 1943. Note that ⼩牧(1898-1990) authored the Manifesto of Japanese Geopolitics(⽇本地政学宣⾔) in 1940, and within 1942, three more texts on geopolitics and Greater Asia: Geopolitics of East Asia(東亜の地政学), ⽬黒書店, 1942; ⽇本地政学. ⼤⽇ 本雄弁会講談社. 1942年; 続・⽇本地政学宣⾔. ⽩揚社, 1942, and three more in 1944. See more in Shibata, “⼩牧実繁の「⽇本地政学」とその思想的確⽴” in ⼈⽂地理vol. 58, issue 1, 2006. 56.

57. Philosophers Kōyama Iwao (1905-1993) and Kōsaka Masaaki (1900-1969) joined the Imperial Navy’s think tank, Chōsa-ka, alongside the outlying geo-oceanographer Ezawa Jōji (1907-1975), who translated Haushofer’s Pazifischen Ozeans. For the geographers, see Shibata, Yoichi. “Ideas and Practices of the Kyoto School of Japanese Geopolitics” Languages, Materiality, and the Construction of Geographical Modernities: Japanese Contributions to the History of Geographical Thought (Edited by Shimazu Toshiyuki), 10: 55-69. 2014; “ ” , 11, 109-139. 2005; , : , 2006, p. 15; for the philosophers, see Ōhashi, R. 2001. Kyōto gakuha to nihon kaigun (“Kyoto school of philosophy” and the Japanese Imperial Navy). Tokyo: PHP Kenkyūsho. (J) Ohashi, Ryosuke ( ). Japanese: . PHP , 2001. But very simply, even Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe was trained by Kitaro Nishida and Hajime Kawakami at Kyoto.

佐藤健 ⽇本における地政学思想の展開:戦前地政学に⾒る萌 芽と危険性 北⼤法学研究科ジュニア・リサーチ・ジャーナル 浦野起央 地政学と 国際戦略 新しい安全保障の枠組みに向けて 三和書籍 ⼤橋良介 京都学派と⽇本海軍−新史料「⼤ 島メモ」をめぐって 研究所 58. Colegrove, Kenneth W. “The New Order in East Asia” The Far Eastern Quarterly, Vol. 1, No. 1 (Nov., 1941), pp. 5-24; See later, in 1946, his letter to Truman. “Letter from Kenneth Colegrove to President Harry S. Truman,” dated July 29, 1946. Harry S. Truman Papers Box No.685 <Sheet No. TRUMAN No. 5411>. Harry S. Truman Presidential Library.

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ultimately the stronger voice.59 More sensibly, it was their uncoordinated confluence which erected the edifice of the ideological justification—if not origin—of Japan’s Greater Asia thesis. In any case,it is certain that the Indo-Pacific was on the mind of not only appropriators of Haushofer, but also practitioners of the Co-Prosperity Sphere. Admiral Matome Ugaki( , 1890-1945), for example, records in his diary, how actual debates over the priority of the Indian Ocean affected strategic decision-making in the military circle.60 However, rather than resting content with this broad-brush picture, I shall devote the remainder of this section to a fuller genealogical study, combing through the multiple layers of Japanese reception of Haushofer.61


The Pazifischen Ozeans already circulated in Japan in the interwar period. But in 1940, it came out in two volumes in Tokyo as : , translated by the research division of the Japanese Youth Diplomatic Society( ).62 The team compiled its own Pacific Reader( , 1941),63 and rolled out an avalanche of German scholarship between 1939 and 1944.The rates and patterns of these translations coincided neatly with the pulses and rhythms of Japanese offensives in East and Southeast Asia: the 25 editions per year from 1939-1942 dwindles to 10 in 1942-1943, and finally to 5, 1943-1944. The historical context is clear even from the titles themselves: Robert A. Brady’s 1937 The Spirit and Structure of German Fascism( , 1939),the Hitlerjugendleader Baldur von Schirach’s 1938 Revolution der Erzièhung ( , 1941), Helmut Stellrecht’s 1936 Die Wehrerziehung der deutschen Jugend ( , 1940), Nazi economist Hugo Richarz’s 1938 Wehrhafte Wirtschaft( , 1941), as well as China’s Problems and Their Solution( , 1940),

太平洋地政治學 地理歴史相互關係の研究 ⽇本⻘年外交協会研究部 太平洋読本

旗のまへに ツ⻘少年の国防教育 経済

ドイツ・ファシズムの精神と構造 中国の諸問題と其解決

⻘年の ドイ 国防

59. Rhodes, Anthony. Propaganda: The Art of Persuasion: World War II, pp. 252–253, 1976, Chelsea House Publishers, New York. 60. Matome Ugaki, Donald M. Goldstein, Catherine Dillon. Fading Victory: The Diary of Admiral Matome Ugaki, 1941-1945. Pittsburg: University of Pittsburg Press. p. 173,etc. 61. This work, of course, is an amplification and ramification of Christian W. Spang, Karl Haushofer und Japan. Die Rezeption seiner geopolitischen Theorien in der deutschen und japanischen Politik. München, Iudicium 2013; Spang, “Karl Haushofer und die Geopohtik in Japan: Zur Bedeutung Haushofers innerhalb der deutsch-japanischen Beziehungen nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg” Irene Diekmann et al. (Hrsg.), Geopolitik, Grenzgange im Zeitgeist, 2000. Matten,Marc Andre. Imagining a Postnational World: Hegemony and Space in Modern China. P. 22-24; and ,“ ” in -( ) (2014): 112-144; . Japanese International Recognition: Regional Study 250 years, Recognition, Controversy, Result Chronology ( : 250 : ). . 2018; Shibata, Yoichi ( ) “A Supplement to Generalization of the Translated Word “Chiseigaku” of German Word “Geopolitik” ( ) in Space, Society and Geographical Thought( ) issue 22, pp. 17-28, 2019. I seek to expand the circle of prosopography and draw out flimsier hypotheses.

柴⽥陽⼀ 戦前戦中の欧⽶ 諸国及び⽇本における地政学の動向 グローバリゼーション下の国⼟計画を考える 東アジアとの交 流の深化を踏まえて 調査業務 浦野起央 ⽇本の国際認識 地域研究 年 認識・論争・成果年譜 三和書籍 柴⽥陽⼀ ⽇本における訳語 「地政学」の定着過程に関する試論・補遺 空間・社 会・地理思想 太平洋地政治学 地理歴史相互関係の研究.JYDS

62. JYDS Research Division (trans.)of Haushofer, ― Publishing Division(Nihon Seinen GaikōKyōkai Shuppanbu),1940. 63.JYDS Research Division,

太平洋読本, Tokyo:J YDS Publishing Division,1941(昭16). PAGE 130




Months after Ezawa Joji ( )—rival to the “Kyoto School of Geopolitics” and later organiser of the Japanese Association of Economic Geographers ( ,JAEG)— offered his translation of Pazifischen Ozeans,65 he was followed by Sato Soichiro( ), who produced a new edition for the famous Pacific Society ( , May 1938August 1945), followed by a commentary of his own in 1944.66 Throughout the dismal months of 1944, troubled by reports of cumulative casualties along the rims of a disintegrating ‘outer sphere’of Japanese Pacific, from Kwajalein Atoll, Saipan, Aitape, Guam, Peleliu, Angaur, to the Australasian Bougainville Island, and finally to Yawata itself, Sato finished his commentary on Haushofer, and carried on his translation missions to Ewald Banse (1883-1953), student of the geo-limnologist Wilhelm Ule(1861-1940) and master spatial theorist of the Third Reich.67 The Raum und Volkim Weltkriege(1932)was not only a keyl ink between Grimm’s original title Volk ohne Raum and Christaller’s full-fledged ‘Volk ohne Raum’ theory, but also symbolic for Japan in this period of transition, sparking discussions and imaginations in politics and academia over the placation, displacement and replacement of populations under pax japonica.

経済地理学会 佐藤荘⼀ 太平洋協会

But the scale and vigour of Japanese reception of Haushofer’s works was unique, due partly to his extensive personal connections during 18 months of station in Japan, and partly to his treatment of the island-country as a case study of politico-oceanic space, which excited the Japanese intellectuals in their scramble to translate the best and brightest German treatises,whereas in China, only the Wehr-Geopolitik(1932) saw translation by Berlin-educated Fudan Professor Zhou Guangda ( )in 1945, and Haushofer remained


ロバアト・ ブレイディー ドイツ・ファシズムの精 神と構造著 ⽇本⻘年外交協会出版部 バルデゥ −ル・フォン・シ−ラッハ ⻘年の旗のまへに 昭 ヘルムート・シュテルレヒト 若きドイツは鍛へる ドイツ⻘少年の 国防教育 昭 フーゴー・リヒヤルツ 国防経 済 昭 中国の諸問題と其解 決 ⽇本と携へて 汪精衛著 黒根祥作訳 朝⽇新聞社 昭和 汪精衛⾃叙伝 安藤徳器 編訳 講談社 昭和 全⾯和平への路 汪兆銘著 東亜聯盟中国総会編 改造社 「純正三⺠ 主義」要領 ⼀般国⺠の理解のために 孫⽂述 汪兆銘補 思想研究所 昭和 汪兆銘⾔論集 ⽇華 両⽂ 中⼭樵夫訳編 三省堂 昭 汪兆銘全集 河上純⼀訳 東亜公論社 65. 太平洋の地政学―地理及歴史の交互関係についての研究. 江沢譲爾(trans), 軍令部, 1940. 7; ハウスホ ーファーの太平洋地政學. 江澤讓爾(trans.), 1941.8. 66. ハウスホーファー著.太平洋地政学/太平洋協会編訳;佐藤荘⼀郎訳,改訂版.東京: 岩波書店, 1942.2. The Pacific Society boasted connections to 松岡洋右and 鶴⾒祐輔, ties to the Nazi and the IPR (⽇本 太平洋問題調査会), with scholars across disciplinary and ideological spectrums: 関嘉彦(1912-2006), 平野義太郎(1897-1980), 河合栄治郎(1891-1944), 清野謙次(1885-1955), 鶴⾒和⼦(1918-2006), 坂西志 保(1896-1976), 都留重⼈(1912-2006), 阿部⾏蔵(1907-1981), 細⼊藤太郎(1911-1993), 清⽔幾太郎 (1907-1988), 福⽥恆存(1912-1994). For his 1944 commentary also sponsored by the Pacific Society: 佐藤荘⼀郎(太平洋協会編), ハウスホーファーの太平洋地政学解説. 六興出版部. 1944 (昭19). 67. エーヴァルト・バンゼ著; 佐藤荘⼀郎譯. 国防意思と地理学: ⾵⼟及⼈間,空間及⺠族,戦争及国防の諸 問題に対する総合研究. 東京: 帝國出版 64. JYDS Research Division, Translation of Brady( A. ). . Tokyo: , Nov. 1939;Translation of von Schirach, Baldur ( ). . Tokyo: JYDS Publishing Division, 1941 ( 16); Translation of Stellrecht, Helmut( ). : .Tokyo: JYDS, 1940 ( 15);Translation of Richarz, Hugo ( ). .Tokyo: JYDS, 1941 ( 16); Richarz, Hugo. Wehrhafte Wirtschaft: ein Beitrag zur Begriffsklärung und Methode der Wehrwirtschaftslehre. Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlaganstalt, 1938; is the only work of Wang translated and published by the JYDS; his other works circulated in Japan include: , , , ( 16/1941); , , ( 16/1941); , ; , , 1941; : , ; , ( 15/1940); : , , ( 14/1939); , , (1939).

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unknown except in a few military schools.68 It was the same translator, Wakai Hayashi ( ), who in 1942 introduced both Haushofer’s case-study on Japan, Dai Nihon: Betrachtungen über Groß-Japans Wehrkraft, Weltstellung und Zukunft(1913),69 and his theory of power overcoming space in Raumüberwindende Mächte(1934),70 to the Japanese intelligentsia. A philosopher of his own right, Wakai rendered Hans Leisegang (1890-1951)’s 1928 Deutsche Philosophie im XX. Jahrhundert into Japanese(1942).71 Although a Nazi-skeptic and later a Soviet-skeptic, Leisegang’s original insights into the concepts of time and space in later Platonism exerted significant influence on German academics in the interwar period.Not to forget, of course, is the fact that German Platonism was key to the Kyoto School. After all, the pan-Asianist thinker, nationalist propagandist,and Naval Lieutenant Kazunobu received his Kyoto Doctorate in Plato.It is therefore a curious matter that Wakai managed to complete his translations of two spatial theories, one ancient and one modern, in the same month of the same year. Hewould then spend another two years on a new project: Hermann von Keyserling(1880-1946)’s Reisetagebuch eines Philosophen (1919), which documents his global-spatial travels in Asia, America and Southern Europe,72 roughly equivalent of Haushofer’s imagined maritime belt stretching across the global south. In this way, he presented one of the earliest proponents of Führerprinzip—not withstanding Keyserling’s inclinations toward democratic peace—to the Japanese readership.


In these subsequent years, Haushofer’s two other monographs on Japan also appeared int ranslation. One of them, the Japan Baut sein Reich (1941), on national development in Japan, was translated only two years after the original appears in German.73 The striking

豪⼠浩華 国防地理学 地緣政治 管⼦ 故緣地之利 承從天之指 辱舉其死 開其國⾨ 辱知其神 緣地之利者

68. Matten, Marc Andre. p.23n36. Zhou, Guangda. Translation of Haushofer ( ). . Chongqing: Commercial Press, April 1945.In China, most of Mackinder was known only after 1949. But Zhou’s work did establish the translation of Geopolitik/geopolitics as which is still in use today. For , seeGuanzi( ): “ , , , , ; , ...”

地緣 所以參天地之吉綱也

69. Haushofer, Karl. Dai Nihon: Betrachtungen über Groß-Japans Wehrkraft, Weltstellung und Zukunft. Berlin: E. Siegfried Mittler und Sohn, 1913. ; / . : , 1942.12.

ハウス・ホーファー著 ⼤⽇本 若井林⼀訳 上卷.

東京 洛陽書院

70. Haushofer, Karl. Raumüberwindende mächte. Leipzig und Berlin, B.G. Teubner, 1934. Japanese Translation by , Title: (Lebensraum and Worldview). Tokyo: Hakubunkan ( ), 1942 ( 17).




ライゼガング ⼆⼗世紀の獨逸哲學


71. Wakai,translationof Leisegang( ). . Tokyo: , Dec. 1942; Leisegang, Hans. Deutsche Philosophie im XX. Jahrhundert. Breslau:Hirt, 1928; Die Raumtheorie im späteren Platonismus, insbesondere bei Philon und den Neuplatonikern. Straßburg, 1912; Der Begriff der Zeit und Ewigkeit imspäteren Platonismus. Münster:Aschendorff,1913. Wakai, , Tokyo: , 1946 ( 21).



若井林⼀ ヘルマン・カイザーリンク). ⽂松堂出版 73. Umezawa, Shinji (梅澤新⼆). Translation of Haushofer (カール・ハウスホーファー), ⽇本の国家建 設. Tokyo: ⿓吟社, Dec. 1943 72. Wakai, Hayashi ( ). Translation of Hermann von Keyserling ( . Tokyo: . Oct. 1944.


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speed of translation and publication speaks volumes to Haushofer’s stature in Japan, and more significantly, the sense of urgency with which Japanese publishers advertised his works to their eager readers.The other was crafted by the film critic, prolific translator and scholar of Nazi cultural institutions Norio Sasaki ( )and published in 1943 by the prestigious Diichi Shobo( ),74 the same publisher which only three years earlier unveiled the definitive Japanese edition of Mein Kampf, translated by Murobuse Kōshin ( ). Murobuseis himself known for writing on pan-Asianism,with both similarities and differences from the way Haushofer envisions the Indo-Pacific political resurrection.75




Two interpreters of Haushofer’s macroscopic geo-political thought deserve special scrutiny, given the translators’ own legacies in Japanese military, political, and intellectual histories. Haushofer’s groundwork of geopolitics, co-authored with his Zeitschrift für Geopolitik co-editor Otto Maull (1887-1957), was fittingly translated by the preeminent political scientist Tamaki Hajime ( , 1902-1980) in 1941.76 Tamaki was a historian of Japanese culture and education, family and economy, social sciences and social institutions. But his interests in international politics is evident, in his choices of Admiral Perry, Townsend Harris and Karl Haushofer for translations. Amongst the three personalities, Haushofer fired no cannon shots and filed no diplomatic papers, a mere theorist of terrestrial and oceanic space. But the political connection between Haushofer and Japan turns salient in the following case. In April of 1943, Kuboi Yoshimichi ( , 1892-1949) presented histranslation of Weltmeere und Weltmächte (1937) to the public.Trained as a lawyer and legislator both in Japan and in Germany,the four-term member of the House of Representative later served as a naval adviser in the Okada Cabinet and assumed the leadership of a society that promoted fishing in the Yellow Sea. This rich experience in maritime governance—in war and in economy—placed him in a unique position to translate Haushofer’s decisive work on land v. sea. As an amphibian policy-maker, he would be later tapped as vice-minister of Interior in the Kantaro Suzuki cabinet, and chosen to accompany Yōsuke Matsuoka ( )to Europe, to consolidate Japanese ties with Germany and Italy.This figure is perhaps as close as a historian could get in establishing Haushofer’s direct impact on the making of Japanese foreign-policy in World War II.




Comparatively, it is interesting to note that at that time, the future editor of Haushofer’s biography and works Hans-Adolf Jacobsen had only just joinedt he German forces as a young soldier. He would not have been as well exposed to Haushofer’s theories as an average Japanese geopolitics seminar-attendee.But even as Haushofer went out of fashion in post-war Germany, Jacobsen’s scholarship on Haushofer would find a foil in post-war Japanese intelligentsia in the ensuing decades.A long-stretching string of essays, dissertations and books on Haushoferian political geography continued to turn upin Japan.

佐々⽊能理男). Translation of Haushofer (ハウスホーファー), ナチスの⽂化体制. 第⼀書房, 1943 75. Murobushi, Takanobu (室伏⾼信). 亞細亞主義, Tokyo: 批評社, Dec. 1926. 76. Tamaki, Hajime (⽟城肇). Translation of Haushofer & Maul et als (ハウスホーファー, マウル他). 地 政治學の基礎理論. Tokyo: 科學主義⼯業社, 1941. 74. Sasaki, Norio ( Tokyo: 1941; Tokyo:


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On a light-hearted note, there is no better way to illustrate the popular imagination of Karl Haushofer in contemporary Japan than to scrutinise the mangaseries, Fullmetal Alchemist. In the final episode of the first season,the protagonist Edward Elric transfers himself to 1921 Munich in exchange for his brother’s return to life from an ensouled robot. On the streets of the Weimar Republic, his father van Hohenheim—an obvious reference to the Swiss alchemist Paracelsus, born Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim— complains about a 12-Papiermark apple, and speaks briefly with “Karl Haushofer” about the Thule Society. Returning home, he finds Edward packing his copy of Goddard ‘s A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes (1919),ready to take a train to Transylvania to study rocket science with Hermann Oberth (1894-1989). Then, in the sequel to the manga classic, Conqueror of Shamballa, a Jewish businessman displayed Haushofer’s Japan und die Japaner (1923) to Edward, who sought to prevent a lady-Macbeth-like female Dietrich Eckartfrom launching into the Hindu-Tibetan-Sino-Japanese paradise “Shamballa”on the day of Hitler’s Beer Hall Putsch on 8th of November. In it, Haushofer is both calculating and cool-headed, unable to dissuade Eckhart from risking innocent lives in order to attain the spatially unattainable. So much respect is reserved for Haushofer’s spatial vision in a reimagined Marsch auf die Feldherrnhalle in Japanese popular culture. Conclusion & Closing Remarks This essay is an intervention on three fronts. First of all, I seek to build on previous studies of Haushofer’s spatial theorie sand political influence. But my expository emphasis centres on Haushofer’s conception of the Indo-Pacific specifically, as a historically-grounded, but also theoretically innovative politico-oceanographic vision.77 Virtually all contemporary scholarship on the Indo-Pacific treats Haushofer as a genealogical fact, historical background, and contextual reference, deeming it either superfluous or troublesome to actually engage with his ideas. I hope that by showing the sophistication of his thinking and its surprising relevance to our own intuition today, I have at least demonstrated the interest and utility of perusing his diction and discourses, against the assumption that he thought the way we think he must have thought. More broadly, I hope to make the case for the serious exposition of geopolitical thought in the history of ideas. Whereas geopolitics as a ‘discipline’ invites the suspicion of philosophers and historians alike for its unfamiliarity with rigour, this healthy suspicion should not discourage scholarly scrutiny into the texture and structure of geopolitical ideas, especially those which resurface in the here and now, with a great impact on our political lives.

77. Ebeling, Frank. Geopolitik : Karl Haushofer und seine Raumwissenschaft 1919-1945. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994; Heske, Henning, "Karl Haushofer: his role in German politics and in Nazi politics," Political Geography 6 (1987), pp. 135–144; Tuathail, Gearoid; et al. The Geopolitics Reader. New York: Routledge, 1998; Murphy, David Thomas, The Heroic Earth: Geopolitical Thought in Weimar Germany, 1918–1933. Kent, Oh.: Kent State University Press, 1997; Barnes, Trevor J. & Minca, Claudio. “Nazi Spatial Theory: The Dark Geographies of Carl Schmitt and Walter Christaller” Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 103:3, pp. 669-687. 2013; Kaplan, Robert D. The Revenge of Geography: What the Maps Tell Us About the Coming Conflicts and the Battle Against Fate. New York: Random House, 2012. PAGE 134


More substantially, I have presented a contextual analysis of Haushofer’s sources, the building blocks of the edifice of the Indo-Pacific theory. Haushofer inherits the concern for Germany’s scarcity of strategic access to global ‘travel-spaces’from Prussian enlightenment thinkers of the political space between states, resolving the puzzle in a belt-and-road solution. Drawing upon contemporary discoveries of oceanographic unity of the Indo-Pacific seas, and on ethno-philological studies on the affinities between Austronesian languages throughout the South Seas, Haushofer argues that both by nature and by political necessity, the Indo-Pacific be treated as one bloc, whose political resurrection against Eur-American domination would advance German interests in the region. Politicising the academic disciplines of Indology and Sinology, Haushofer actively built on his connections with India, China, and Japan to make the case for the Indo-Pacific vision. However, repercussions in India, at first promising through anti-British intellectuals such as Sarkar and Das, fell flat in the Second World War; despite his accurate sense of Chinese republicanism, his interest in China was not reciprocated. Only Japan witnessed a torrent of geopolitical thinking, fuelled in part by massive translations of Haushofer’s works. It is clear that the ‘Indo-Pacific’theory is not ‘rediscovered’ by contemporary makers of foreign policies, least of all Prime Minister Abe, directly from the dusty manuscripts of 1924 and 1939.In fact, Haushofer’s texts are barely reprinted in German after the war, and remain virtually unavailable in English.78 Rather, Japanese intellectuals, politicians, naval officers have received and reimagined Haushofer since the 1930s-40s, and merged geopolitics with other strands of pan-Asianist and greater-Asianist thoughts. Today, the scale of Haushofer’s translation and public recognisability in Japan is greater than in any other country on the planet. The spectre of Haushofer has haunted such institutions as the “Japanese Youth Diplomatic Society,” which is still in operation as a think tank today. In this context, therefore, to un-earth this old idea as a rallying-cry against new foes is more easily done in Japan than in the U.S., where even the re-naming of the Pacific Command elicits little response, whilst most academics in political science departments remain ignorant of the genealogical formation, thus the theoretical structure, of the “Indo-Pacific.” The first step to regain consciousness of how the ‘Indo-Pacific’is used today, therefore, is to examine the idea in its sources and developments, in translations and receptions.To use the term responsibly, it is important to interrogate the contexts in which it first emerged as a theory, the ways it has been employed to make historically specific arguments, and finally, the agents through which the theory reaches us here and now, and lives a reincarnated life today.

77. There is only a selected anthology in English: Haushofer, Karl. An English translation and analysis of Major General Karl Ernst Haushofer's Geopolitics of the Pacific Ocean: studies on the relationship between geography and history. Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press (Mellen studies in geography; vol. 7.), 2002. PAGE 135


Guns to Butter: Sociotropic Concerns and Foreign Policy Preferences in Russia (Abstract) Maria Snegovaya

Scholars on “rally ’round the flag” often argue that by invoking the danger of external threats in times of economichardship, leaders can rally the public around the government in a way that would otherwise be impossible. Alternative streams of literature suggest that a darkening economic reality (“butter”) may weaken the impact ofpatriotic euphoria (“guns”). I conducted an experimental survey to measure changes in foreign policy preferences among respondents exposed to negative economic priors in Russia. In line with the earlier findings on this topic, my analysis shows that participants who encounter negative economic primes report significantly less support for assertive foreign policy narratives. These results suggest that continuing economic strain may limit the Kremlin’s ability to divert public attention from internal problems through the use of assertive rhetoric.

Private Military Firms as a Component of Russian Non-Linear Strategy (Abstract) Calvin Chang

As part of its broader non-linear geopolitical strategy, Russia has increasingly been utilizing privatized military firms (PMFs) as a tool to achieve its geopolitical and economic goals around the world. My research primarily focused on the development of the wider PMF industry, the differences between Russian and Western firms, and the function of Russian PMFs in Russia's wider geopolitical strategy. My research points to Russian PMFs operating with goals and characteristics that set them apart from their Western counterparts in multiple ways, including: being far more integrated into the Russian state apparatus, and having a more unofficial legal status under Russian domestic law. The unofficial legal status affords the Russian government a degree of plausible deniability --being able to deploy them while denying any links between the Kremlin and any adverse actions of these firms abroad. There is an increasing need for the U.S. and its allies to further recognize Russian PMFs as a potential threat, and to conduct more research into these firms as they relate to Russian geopolitical strategy in order to better formulate an accurate and updated strategy to more effectively counter it going forward.

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V. Shifting Lines: Migration in Europe Today Chair: Rachel Farell, Yale University Presenters: Joseph Cerrone (George Washington University) Maria Khan (University of Cambridge), Rachel Farell (Yale University) Discussant: Professor Zareena Grewal, Yale University

How do parties frame their opposition to immigration and why do the xenophobic (Abstract) Joseph Cerrone

How do anti-immigrant parties express their opposition to migration? Why do their xenophobic narratives change over time? While scholars have devoted considerable attention to anti-immigrant sentiment among citizens and elites, not enough has been done to disentangle the various frames employed to animate public opposition to migration. I argue that anti-immigrant parties employ five distinct types of xenophobic framing: economic, security, legal-normative,cultural, and civic. These frames are associated with specific threats allegedly posed by migrants and are communicated through a process of identity ascription. Using Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, I posit that elites favor frames that concentrate on material, individual-level threats rather than non-material,collective threats. Nevertheless, short-term changes in frame salience may violate this logic when the political news cycle provides an opportunity for anti-immigrant parties to demonstrate ownership of the immigration issue by using less salient frames. I illustrate the dynamics of this process by analyzing the salience of and variation in xenophobic frames in Tweets from the French National Rally.

Cultural Integration of Muslims in Germany: Turkish-German identity and Goethe’s Faust (Abstract) Maria Khan

This paper will discuss cultural integration of long-term Muslim migrants in Germany. My research examines how individuals from Muslim backgrounds respond to Western literary culture. By taking a prototypical German text i.e. Goethe's Faust(Part I), I studied how Turkish-German secondary school students engage with the idea of German identity and ideas of modernity present within the text. Over a period of six months and through a performance-based treatment of the text, the students expressed issues related to their PAGE 137


own identity. Emerging themes included religion, politics, the role of family, socioeconomic status and lastly sexuality. The findings of my research suggest that while identity is a complicated construct, Turkish cultural values,inspired by Islam add another dimension to the students' perception of themselves and the dominant culture. My research emphasizes the importance of performance-based teaching and literature-based education in increasingly complex discussions on Turkish-German or Muslim integration in Germany. The findings of the research have implications for the settlement of newly arrived Muslim refugees in Europe.

Managing the Manager: Social Interactions Between Syrian Refugees and their French 'Humanitarian' Counterparts (Abstract) Rachel Farell

Based on six months of doctoral fieldwork in Paris, this paper analyzes how Syrian refugees are navigating humanitarian schemes of support as they begin to chart new lives in France. Fieldwork research is conducted within the context of a humanitarian housing center providing temporary housing assignments for Syrian refugees in a Parisian suburb. While adding to ethnographic scholarship on Middle Eastern refugee lived experience, I complicate the notion that humanitarian “governmentality” (Fassin 2012; Ticktin 2011) tends to “silence” refugee voices (Malkki 1995)by evidencing ways in which Syrian refugees in France have advantageously navigated relationships with humanitarians and renegotiated the norms of humanitarian engagement in their own lives. This research is situated during a tense time in France, where far-right politics, national unrest and protest, anti-migration sentiment, and rising rates of Islamophobia have created a socially tenuous mélange. Despite these social factors, this paper argues that the power dynamics between humanitarians and refugees can be shifted and negotiated by strategic management among refugees. This research hopes to encourage further theoretical discussions of refugees in humanitarian settings as being “structurally vulnerable”(Bourgois 2017) while also using social, cultural, and material resources to become “structurally resilient” (Panter-Brick & Eggerman 2012)

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