Even the happiest of marriages suffers the odd quarrel. The same goes for geopolitical alliances. When partners embark on a momentous endeavour, be it bringing up children or, perhaps, thwarting the neo-imperial designs of a Russian despot, some friction is to be expected. Thus it is that after four years of almost spousal solidarity, Ukraine and its European partners are going through a patch of conjugal bickering. For the first time, signs of acrimony have spilled into the open: both sides have been a bit short with each other, even exchanging accusations of “blackmail”. Yet fears of divorce would be premature. If anything, the couple may come out stronger from the stormy spell. In geopolitics, as in matrimony, the loudest arguments often occur between partners who know they simply cannot walk away.
As with domestic rows, who started it depends on which side you ask. The underlying bones of contention are easier to agree upon. Ukraine and Europe have been left discombobulated by America’s seat-of-the-pants geopoliticking under President Donald Trump. Sparks have flown over Russian oil, which the European Union continues to import (albeit in much smaller quantities than in the past) in a way that authorities in Kyiv equate to betrayal. To top it all, Ukraine’s bid to join the EU is prompting disquiet in Brussels as it edges—slowly—closer to reality.
The relationship with America ought to unite Ukraine with its fellow Europeans. Both would greatly like to see Mr Trump succeed in his once-proclaimed desire to end the war “in 24 hours”. Both also agree the best way to do this would be for the American president to press his Russian counterpart to negotiate a truce. Alas, Mr Trump is endlessly complaisant towards Vladimir Putin and busy starting new wars instead (so much for that Nobel peace prize). The first sign of tension between Europe and Ukraine came in January in Davos, after Mr Trump launched his quixotic crusade to seize Greenland from Denmark, a NATO ally. Europe got Mr Trump to back down by showing a united front. Just as the continent’s bigwigs were basking in their diplomatic prowess, Volodymyr Zelensky delivered a broadside about Europe being a mere “salad of small and middle powers” that “loves to discuss the future but avoids taking action today”. Et tu, Volodymyr?
Diplomats keen to brush off the slight put it down to Mr Zelensky’s need to mimic the White House’s frustration at Europe doing too little to secure its own neighbourhood. Europeans will tolerate some needling from their war-torn ally in the interest of keeping Mr Trump onside. Still, the barbs left many a Euro-wallah quietly fuming. Mr Trump has cut off all aid to Ukraine and routinely upbraids Mr Zelensky in public; in contrast the EU in December agreed on a €90bn ($104bn) loan to succour Ukraine. It was not European leaders who started a war in Iran that is swelling Russia’s oil revenues. They understand that Mr Zelensky may need to take the odd potshot to keep Ukraine in the news, but wish he would give them the respect he gives America.
Most recently, it was a flare-up over energy that highlighted the testy mood. In January the Ukrainian segment of the Druzhba pipeline that delivers Russian crude to bits of central Europe was damaged. Mr Zelensky claims it was Russia’s doing and has all but refused to fix the pipeline, arguing that proceeds from oil sales fuel the Kremlin’s war machine. This infuriated Hungary, whose prime minister, Viktor Orban, had carved out an exemption from EU sanctions to keep importing cheap crude from Russia. Mr Orban, in the midst of a re-election campaign that most EU leaders would like to see him lose, has used the spat to block the finalisation of the €90bn package. Ukraine refused for weeks even to grant EU officials access to inspect the damage. The Europeans grudgingly backed Mr Orban, linking the promised aid package to Ukrainian co-operation on Druzhba. Mr Zelensky fumed that this amounted to blackmail, then said he might give Ukrainian soldiers Mr Orban’s address so they could rough him up. Even as a joke it was in poor taste—and earned him a public rebuke from the European Commission.
To some this undignified episode shows the pitfalls of allowing Ukraine to join the EU. The club’s existing members opened talks on Ukrainian accession in 2023, knowing full well it takes many years even for a rich, peaceful and well-run country to fulfil the membership criteria. Yet as part of peace proposals pushed late last year by America, the suggestion emerged that Ukraine should be granted early EU membership, perhaps as soon as January 2027. Ukraine is understandably keen on this shortcut. Those already in the club are less sure. They understand the prospect of fast-track EU membership would help Mr Zelensky sell a difficult truce (involving loss of Ukrainian territory) in a referendum. But they resent being bounced into such an important decision by outsiders. Attempts to resolve the imbroglio, for example by proposing Ukraine get a sort of partial membership, have so far fallen flat.
With a bit of luck, the Euro-Ukrainian spat may already be over. On March 17th Mr Zelensky belatedly acceded to EU demands that he get busy fixing Druzhba. All sides are ready to move on, blaming the recent sour mood on poor communications due to the sudden departure of Mr Zelensky’s top aide in November.
Mr Zelensky’s European allies admire his stubbornness: his grit has been a big factor in keeping Ukraine in the war. Now they are on the receiving end of a bit of it themselves. Given the pressure Ukraine’s president is under, allowances are being made; provided the €90bn package is pushed through quickly, the whole affair may be soon forgotten. There is, for now, no question of a broader rift between Ukraine and Europe. But if one were to develop one day, this is how it would start. ■
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