The EU, NATO and the Libya Crisis (2): Scaling Ambitions Down
November 28, 2022
Stefano Marcuzzi
The EU and the limits of soft power
The organization that stepped forward to help stabilize Libya after the war was the EU, under the direction of a UN Support Mission in Libya. The EU promised to provide an “essential and a clear contribution to promoting peace in our immediate neighborhood.”
Initially, the EU resorted to its classic soft power toolkit of assistance, financial, training, and development programs. To date, the union has invested €44.5 million in humanitarian assistance in Libya; it is contributing to twenty-three projects worth €70 million in bilateral support and has financed the Covid-19 response in Libya with €66 million. Additionally, €408 million have been mobilized under the EU Emergency Trust Fund for Africa to help Libya cope with the migration challenge.
These programs have been suffering from two main problems. One was technical. Under Qaddafi, Libyans drew a state salary that did not imply actual work but rather loyalty to the regime. Since salaries were not connected to any constructive output, “there was no incentive to create an even moderately functional government bureaucracy.” For EU funding mechanisms, Libya was “like a plug without a socket.”
This was aggravated by the inconsistencies and duplication of efforts in EU financial schemes. The result was that “Libyans simply didn’t know where to look to get the money for any given activity.” A second problem was the lack of security, which hampered the implementation of any development program.
The EU delegation to Libya assessed the need for stronger measures in the security field as early as late 2011. Over the years, a number of options were debated in EU circles, including a 5,000–strong EU force to be deployed in and around Tripoli to oversee “arrangements for the withdrawal of armed groups … and the cantonment of heavy weapons” preparatory to “a number of civilian CSDP [Common Security and Defence Policy] policing and Rule of Law (RoL)/SSR [Security Sector Reform] related Missions.”
These schemes were never implemented due to a combination of issues: a deeply ingrained normative culture in the EU, which was seen as incompatible with the use of hard power; the inconsistencies among those EU member states more involved in Libya—especially Italy and France, which ended up siding with different Libyan factions; and the lack of an invitation by the transitional Libyan authorities.
Instead, an EU Border Assistance Mission was established, which proved too weak to make a difference. The EU hoped that an elected Libyan government would feel more legitimized to invite a stabilization force, but the opposite happened. Without stability and security, the 2012 Libyan elections saw a crescendo of political violence and human rights violations.
The EU, which was monitoring the elections, took no action. In the years that followed, militia infighting derailed Libya’s democratization process to the point that the subsequent 2014 elections ignited another civil war in the country, with two governments, one based in Tripoli and the other in Bayda and each supported by a different assembly and by a different coalition of militias, competing for power.
From 2015 onwards the EU began to scale down its own ambitions and tried to address some specific aspects of the Libyan crisis, namely the migration problem and the smuggling of weapons into the country.
It did so through two naval operations, European Union Naval Force Mediterranean Sophia and Irini (the latter launched in March 2020 and still ongoing). Both operations remained chronically under-resourced—at its peak, Sophia had seven ships and seven air assets, while Irini had four and six, respectively—and suffered from self-imposed limitations that impeded a strategic impact.
The most serious limitation for Sophia was the EU decision to refrain from pressing the new Libyan Government of National Accord established at Skhirat, to allow the operation into Libya’s territorial waters.
That was crucial to dismantling the human smugglers networks, which was Sophia’s priority. Without Tripoli’s consent, the operation could never move beyond phase two (out of four planned phases).
The EU tried to compensate bytraining the Libyan Coast Guard, but that was seen by Libyans as an attempt at “dump[ing] the dirty job to us,” and also favored a number of human rights violations against the migrants.
Irini’s main handicap lay in the mandate of the operation itself, which flew from UNSCR 2292. The latter was based on the concept of “compliant boarding,” which Russia and China insisted be included in the resolution.
As a consequence, Irini ships can inspect vessels suspected of transporting war-related material to Libya only if granted permission from the ships’ flag nations. Naturally, this limits Irini’s enforcement and deterrent potential. In some cases, Turkish cargos approached the Libyan coast with a military escort that threatened to open fire on the European ships if they attempted to stop the convoy. The Europeans withdrew.
The EU’s inability to use hard power to supplement its soft power tools led to a progressive loss of leverage in the region, evidenced by the establishment of a strongly pro-Turkish government in Tripoli under Abdulhamid Dabaiba in March 2021, while a parallel, Russia-recognized government was established in Sirte under Fathi Bashagha a year later.
Relaunching crisis management, or scaling down ambition?
The Libyan crisis is revealing of a trend of “bold commitment but compromised means” common to both NATO and the EU. NATO’s half-hearted 2011 intervention left a power vacuum from which a number of threats to NATO member states emerged; that vacuum eventually provided Russia—NATO’s main rival—with a foothold on a strategic region, rich in hydrocarbon resources.
For the EU, the Libyan crisis is the story of a short circuit between the EU’s foreign policy paradigm based on soft power, and the needs of a hard security crisis. Both organizations failed to fulfill their promises to the Libyan people, and lost leverage in the region as a result. This calls into question the rationale and future of Western/liberal crisis management.
A first takeaway from Libya is that half measures hardly work. Although it is impossible to ultimately prove or disprove a counterfactual, there is much evidence that the collapse of Libya was not inevitable.
A peacekeeping force in the aftermath of the 2011 operation; prompt reaction against the first disruptors of Libya’s peaceful transition in 2012; stronger enforcement mechanisms attached to subsequent UN-orchestrated political agreements among rival Libyan factions in 2015 and 2020; and punitive measures against Libyan and international spoilers of those agreements may have prevented or at least contained the spiral of violence that engulfed the country.
A second lesson is that a stronger EU and NATO political role is needed. Both organizations tended to operate through technical tools in Libya, leaving the political leadership to other international forums—the Libya Contact Group and the UN. Though understandable, this has proved increasingly problematic.
The UNSC became paralyzed by actors, chiefly Russia, but increasingly China too, which grasped the possibility to impede or hamper Western action in Libya by formulating UN resolutions that disempowered the mandates of Western-led operations. Subsequent failure of Western initiatives contributed to delivering a message to local and international players that unilateralism in open violation of UN resolutions could be pursued with impunity in Libya.
If NATO, the EU, and their member states are not prepared to address these problems and “change step” in their future crisis management, they may have to scale down their expectations but also revise their rhetoric.
Hyperbolic statements and promises of cathartic interventions by either organization are recipes for reputational damage when they are not matched by positive results. In an increasingly militarized world, a lower profile may be insufficient to secure Western interests and promote peace and stability, but it would at least prevent accusations of hypocrisy and hubris.
Stefano marcuzzi – University College Dublin, Libya Analysis Llc, Nato Defense College Foundation
November 28, 2022
Stefano Marcuzzi
The EU and the limits of soft power
The organization that stepped forward to help stabilize Libya after the war was the EU, under the direction of a UN Support Mission in Libya. The EU promised to provide an “essential and a clear contribution to promoting peace in our immediate neighborhood.”
Initially, the EU resorted to its classic soft power toolkit of assistance, financial, training, and development programs. To date, the union has invested €44.5 million in humanitarian assistance in Libya; it is contributing to twenty-three projects worth €70 million in bilateral support and has financed the Covid-19 response in Libya with €66 million. Additionally, €408 million have been mobilized under the EU Emergency Trust Fund for Africa to help Libya cope with the migration challenge.
These programs have been suffering from two main problems. One was technical. Under Qaddafi, Libyans drew a state salary that did not imply actual work but rather loyalty to the regime. Since salaries were not connected to any constructive output, “there was no incentive to create an even moderately functional government bureaucracy.” For EU funding mechanisms, Libya was “like a plug without a socket.”
This was aggravated by the inconsistencies and duplication of efforts in EU financial schemes. The result was that “Libyans simply didn’t know where to look to get the money for any given activity.” A second problem was the lack of security, which hampered the implementation of any development program.
The EU delegation to Libya assessed the need for stronger measures in the security field as early as late 2011. Over the years, a number of options were debated in EU circles, including a 5,000–strong EU force to be deployed in and around Tripoli to oversee “arrangements for the withdrawal of armed groups … and the cantonment of heavy weapons” preparatory to “a number of civilian CSDP [Common Security and Defence Policy] policing and Rule of Law (RoL)/SSR [Security Sector Reform] related Missions.”
These schemes were never implemented due to a combination of issues: a deeply ingrained normative culture in the EU, which was seen as incompatible with the use of hard power; the inconsistencies among those EU member states more involved in Libya—especially Italy and France, which ended up siding with different Libyan factions; and the lack of an invitation by the transitional Libyan authorities.
Instead, an EU Border Assistance Mission was established, which proved too weak to make a difference. The EU hoped that an elected Libyan government would feel more legitimized to invite a stabilization force, but the opposite happened. Without stability and security, the 2012 Libyan elections saw a crescendo of political violence and human rights violations.
The EU, which was monitoring the elections, took no action. In the years that followed, militia infighting derailed Libya’s democratization process to the point that the subsequent 2014 elections ignited another civil war in the country, with two governments, one based in Tripoli and the other in Bayda and each supported by a different assembly and by a different coalition of militias, competing for power.
From 2015 onwards the EU began to scale down its own ambitions and tried to address some specific aspects of the Libyan crisis, namely the migration problem and the smuggling of weapons into the country.
It did so through two naval operations, European Union Naval Force Mediterranean Sophia and Irini (the latter launched in March 2020 and still ongoing). Both operations remained chronically under-resourced—at its peak, Sophia had seven ships and seven air assets, while Irini had four and six, respectively—and suffered from self-imposed limitations that impeded a strategic impact.
The most serious limitation for Sophia was the EU decision to refrain from pressing the new Libyan Government of National Accord established at Skhirat, to allow the operation into Libya’s territorial waters.
That was crucial to dismantling the human smugglers networks, which was Sophia’s priority. Without Tripoli’s consent, the operation could never move beyond phase two (out of four planned phases).
The EU tried to compensate bytraining the Libyan Coast Guard, but that was seen by Libyans as an attempt at “dump[ing] the dirty job to us,” and also favored a number of human rights violations against the migrants.
Irini’s main handicap lay in the mandate of the operation itself, which flew from UNSCR 2292. The latter was based on the concept of “compliant boarding,” which Russia and China insisted be included in the resolution.
As a consequence, Irini ships can inspect vessels suspected of transporting war-related material to Libya only if granted permission from the ships’ flag nations. Naturally, this limits Irini’s enforcement and deterrent potential. In some cases, Turkish cargos approached the Libyan coast with a military escort that threatened to open fire on the European ships if they attempted to stop the convoy. The Europeans withdrew.
The EU’s inability to use hard power to supplement its soft power tools led to a progressive loss of leverage in the region, evidenced by the establishment of a strongly pro-Turkish government in Tripoli under Abdulhamid Dabaiba in March 2021, while a parallel, Russia-recognized government was established in Sirte under Fathi Bashagha a year later.
Relaunching crisis management, or scaling down ambition?
The Libyan crisis is revealing of a trend of “bold commitment but compromised means” common to both NATO and the EU. NATO’s half-hearted 2011 intervention left a power vacuum from which a number of threats to NATO member states emerged; that vacuum eventually provided Russia—NATO’s main rival—with a foothold on a strategic region, rich in hydrocarbon resources.
For the EU, the Libyan crisis is the story of a short circuit between the EU’s foreign policy paradigm based on soft power, and the needs of a hard security crisis. Both organizations failed to fulfill their promises to the Libyan people, and lost leverage in the region as a result. This calls into question the rationale and future of Western/liberal crisis management.
A first takeaway from Libya is that half measures hardly work. Although it is impossible to ultimately prove or disprove a counterfactual, there is much evidence that the collapse of Libya was not inevitable.
A peacekeeping force in the aftermath of the 2011 operation; prompt reaction against the first disruptors of Libya’s peaceful transition in 2012; stronger enforcement mechanisms attached to subsequent UN-orchestrated political agreements among rival Libyan factions in 2015 and 2020; and punitive measures against Libyan and international spoilers of those agreements may have prevented or at least contained the spiral of violence that engulfed the country.
A second lesson is that a stronger EU and NATO political role is needed. Both organizations tended to operate through technical tools in Libya, leaving the political leadership to other international forums—the Libya Contact Group and the UN. Though understandable, this has proved increasingly problematic.
The UNSC became paralyzed by actors, chiefly Russia, but increasingly China too, which grasped the possibility to impede or hamper Western action in Libya by formulating UN resolutions that disempowered the mandates of Western-led operations. Subsequent failure of Western initiatives contributed to delivering a message to local and international players that unilateralism in open violation of UN resolutions could be pursued with impunity in Libya.
If NATO, the EU, and their member states are not prepared to address these problems and “change step” in their future crisis management, they may have to scale down their expectations but also revise their rhetoric.
Hyperbolic statements and promises of cathartic interventions by either organization are recipes for reputational damage when they are not matched by positive results. In an increasingly militarized world, a lower profile may be insufficient to secure Western interests and promote peace and stability, but it would at least prevent accusations of hypocrisy and hubris.
***
Stefano marcuzzi – University College Dublin, Libya Analysis Llc, Nato Defense College Foundation
Libya’s Electoral Impasse (4)
November 28, 2022
Jalel Herchaoui
1.5 The Libyan Political Dialogue Forum is born
Keen to exploit the cooldown ushered in by concerted Turco-Russian cohabitation, the U.N. intensified its diplomatic efforts in the summer of 2020. This began by first insisting that relevant parties make formal ceasefire declarations.
From there, the U.N. returned to a playbook developed as part of an earlier mediation effort, January 2020’s Berlin Summit. There, the primary takeaway had been plans for the establishment of a new Presidential Council and the formation of a new interim government.
The latter was to be tasked with reunifying the institutions first, and, then, “paving the way to end the transitional period through [the holding of] parliamentary and presidential elections.”
As part of its bid to implement the Berlin outcomes, the U.N. launched the Libyan Political Dialogue Forum (LPDF) in late October 2020. Seventy-five Libyan delegates were handpicked for participation. And having learned from the failure of Macron’s attempt at delivering elections in 2018, U.N. planners sought to protect the new peace process from the quagmires of institutional partition:
Rather than fully depend on the willingness of the HoR and the HSC to agree on a common constitutional arrangement for elections, the U.N. assigned the seventy-five delegates invited to take part in the LPDF ultimate responsibility over the matter in case the two chambers failed to agree by February 2021.
1.6 The Final Rough Stretch Before the December 2021 Deadline
Soon after the LPDF’s in-person meetings started in Tunis on November 9, 2020, delegates came together around the idea of announcing an election date. After a vote, the LPDF decreed that elections for both the parliament and presidency would be held on December 24, 2021, the 70th anniversary of Libyan independence.
Notably, the highly symbolic deadline was six months in advance of what the LPDF roadmap had specified at first. Truncating the timeline in this way unnecessarily added to the difficulty of an already-difficult agenda.
If that seemed to settle the question of electoral timetable, the next issue to be handled was that of appointing a new interim government. A favorite in this context was Fathi Bashagha, the Minister of Interior in the Tripoli government and a top leader in the Turkish-backed armed resistance against Haftar’s aggression on the capital.
Soon after that offensive on Tripoli collapsed in 2020, Bashagha struck a political deal with Haftar ally Saleh. By doing so, Bashagha and the HoR Speaker hoped to become prime minister and president, respectively, in February 2021. But the LPDF delegates elected Abdulhamid Dabaiba prime minister — as well as a three-person Presidential Council led by Mohammed al-Menfi, an eastern-Libyan native like the scorned Saleh — surprising most observers.
The following month, the HoR endorsed Dabaiba’s cabinet with a vote of confidence. In doing so, the parallel eastern executive branch came to a peaceful end. Importantly, however, the HoR did not recognize the new Presidential Council, nor did it formally acknowledge the legal status of the seventy-fivemember LPDF.
Moreover, Haftar’s armed coalition did not recognize Prime Minister Dabaiba. The last matter to resolve was the legal framework for the elections themselves. When deliberations on the constitutional basis eventually came before the LPDF, paralysis took hold amongst the seventyfive delegates.
At the root of this were debates around the Presidency. The first centered on whether presidential elections should indeed be held in synchrony with the parliamentary elections of 2021. The second concerned the eligibility of dual-nationals and active-duty military officers for the presidential contest.
As the LPDF grappled with its internal divisions, HSC president Khaled alMeshri embarked upon a campaign which consisted in advocating for the holding of a constitutional referendum in lieu of the sought-after elections.
This arguably was a disguised means of stonewalling and boosting the probability of indefinite postponement. Only muddying things further, in July 2021, The New York Times Magazine published the first picture in years of Saif al-Qadhafi — the most famous among Muammar’s still-alive sons — amid rumors he might himself have eyes on the presidency.
Then in September 2021, after the LPDF had failed to reach a final decision on the electoral process, Aqila Saleh — without holding a proper vote in the HoR — unilaterally issued a “presidential electoral law.” The text disregarded the LPA, which the LPDF roadmap leaned upon, and imposed a sequence wherein the presidential elections had to happen first, violating another fundamental tenet of the LPDF roadmap.
For reasons that will be discussed later, the law was also structured in such a manner as to allow both Haftar and Saleh to run for president without running the chance of losing their existing positions. One month later, Saleh then had his right-hand man Fawzi alNawri issue a “parliamentary electoral law” — again without any vote in the HoR.
Amongst other things, the law dictated that legislative elections could only occur in February 2022, at the earliest. In November 2021, Saif al-Islam Qadhafi, Khalifa Haftar, Aqila Saleh, Abdulhamid Dabaiba, Fathi Bashagha, and more than another 90 hopefuls submitted their paperwork to the High National Election Commission to run for president. The three most popular candidates were also the most controversial and divisive.
Nevertheless, after a few days of legal armed stared-downs and legal confutations, almost all contentious candidates ended up being approved by the courts. With election-day just weeks away, the tensions elicited across Libya by the most visible presidential candidates proved far too much to manage.
Facing an atmosphere more charged than ever, the High National Election Commission stopped short of publishing the final list of authorized candidates in time for the designated two-week campaign season to commence. The standstill meant that the much-touted deadline of December 24, 2021 was going to be missed.
To the sadness of a great many, Libya’s general elections were postponed indefinitely
***
Jalel Harchaoui is a political scientist specialising in North Africa, with a specific focus on Libya. He worked on the same topics previously at The Global Initiative Against Transnational Organised Crime, a Geneva-based NGO, as well as at the Clingendael Institute, based in The Hague. His research has concentrated on Libya’s security landscape and political economy. A frequent commentator on Libya and Algeria in the international press, he has published in Foreign Affairs, Lawfare, Politique Étrangère, Foreign Policy, and Small Arms Survey. An engineer by trade, Jalel holds a master’s degree in Geopolitics from Paris 8 University.
