"“The Arctic is one place where the tectonic plates of geopolitics are colliding. And it’s not someone else’s frontier. It’s part of the European Union,” Commission President Ursula von der Leyen declared as she unveiled the strategy."...
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AI:
Rozumiem oburzenie — bo w tym cytacie Ursula von der Leyen wykonuje dość osobliwy manewr: przechodzi od uzasadnionego twierdzenia, że Arktyka ma fundamentalne znaczenie dla bezpieczeństwa Europy, do znacznie trudniejszej do obrony sugestii, że Arktyka jako taka jest częścią Unii Europejskiej.
A przecież to dwa zupełnie różne twierdzenia.
Sformułowanie „It’s not someone else’s frontier. It’s part of the European Union” brzmi tak, jakby przewodnicząca Komisji Europejskiej właśnie rozszerzyła granice Unii na cały region arktyczny. Jeśli taki był zamierzony sens jej wypowiedzi, to mamy do czynienia nie tyle z geopolityką, ile z geopolityczną fantazją.
Jest jednak pewien szczegół, który czyni tę wypowiedź jeszcze ciekawszą. W oficjalnym zapisie wystąpienia z 20 października 2026 r. von der Leyen natychmiast wyjaśnia, co ma na myśli: trzy państwa członkowskie UE są państwami arktycznymi, a ponad pół miliona obywateli Unii mieszka w Arktyce.
To jest argument racjonalny. Finlandia, Szwecja i Królestwo Danii mają związki terytorialne z Arktyką, przy czym Grenlandia — choć należy do Królestwa Danii — sama nie jest częścią UE.
Ale właśnie dlatego należało mówić precyzyjniej.
Arktyka nie jest własnością Unii Europejskiej. Obejmuje terytoria ośmiu państw arktycznych: Danii, Finlandii, Szwecji, Norwegii, Islandii, Rosji, Stanów Zjednoczonych i Kanady. To nie Bruksela rozstrzyga o ich suwerenności.
I tu dochodzimy do sedna.
Von der Leyen ma pełne prawo powiedzieć, że bezpieczeństwo Arktyki jest sprawą europejską, że UE powinna chronić swoje interesy i współpracować z państwami regionu. Nie ma natomiast żadnego powodu, by ubierać te racje w retorykę, która zaciera różnicę między uzasadnionym interesem strategicznym a terytorialnym tytułem do regionu.
Można oczywiście bronić jej słów, uznając, że „part of the European Union” oznacza tu część europejskiej przestrzeni strategicznej, a nie terytorium podlegające jurysdykcji Unii. Tyle że w polityce wielkich mocarstw precyzja języka nie jest ozdobnikiem. Jest częścią strategii.
I proponuję jeszcze jeden, bardziej ironiczny komentarz: skoro Arktyka jest częścią Unii Europejskiej, to może ktoś w Brukseli powinien wreszcie poinformować o tym Waszyngton, Moskwę, Ottawę, Oslo, Reykjavik i Kopenhagę bowiem wygląda na to, że nie wszyscy zdążyli zapoznać się z nową mapą pani przewodniczącej.
...stosownym tu sytuacyjnie dopowiedzeniem -
ambicja odgrywania roli mocarstwa nie jest jeszcze dowodem, że się nim jest.
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A Smile Is Not Enough to Earn a Seat at the Great Powers’ Table — Least of All Over the Arctic
A modest reflection on European ambitions, international law, and a certain smile apparently expected to make up for a few missing arguments
There are politicians who establish their credentials before claiming to speak for a great power. And then there are those who seem to believe that, if they speak with sufficient confidence and for long enough, great-power status will eventually materialise of its own accord.
Judging by some of her public pronouncements, Ursula von der Leyen, President of the European Commission, might be thought to belong to the latter category.
For, unveiling the European Union’s new Arctic strategy, the President declared:
“The Arctic is one place where the tectonic plates of geopolitics are colliding. And it’s not someone else’s frontier. It’s part of the European Union.”
So the Arctic is not somebody else’s frontier. It is part of the European Union.
Geography, it seems, can be a remarkably ungrateful subject. For years, we had been under the impression that the Arctic encompassed territories belonging to various states, including Russia, Canada, the United States and the Kingdom of Denmark, alongside areas associated with Norway, Iceland, Finland and Sweden. Yet a single sentence from Brussels has apparently given the matter an entirely new dimension — rhetorically, at least.
There is, of course, no need to get carried away. The President may have meant not territorial sovereignty, but Europe’s strategic interests. Finland and Sweden are EU members, after all, and the Kingdom of Denmark is a member state, although Greenland remains outside the Union.
In which case, one might reasonably ask why she did not simply say that the Arctic is vital to European security and that the Union intends to play a greater part in protecting its own interests.
Such a statement would have been accurate, sensible and unlikely to send cartographers rushing out to commission a new edition of the atlas.
But accurate and sensible language has one obvious drawback: it does not always sound sufficiently imperial.
The Polar Code, or the Minor Inconvenience of International Law
In the same context, we are told that the number of vessels operating in the area covered by the Polar Code rose by 40 per cent between 2013 and 2025.
It is an impressive figure. The Arctic is becoming increasingly important to shipping, security and strategic competition. There is little to quarrel with there.
It is worth noticing, however, one small detail that might easily escape attention amid the grander political narrative.
The International Code for Ships Operating in Polar Waters — the Polar Code — was developed under the auspices of the International Maritime Organization. The European Union is not a party to it, does not administer it and cannot amend its provisions unilaterally. It can, of course, help coordinate the positions of its member states on matters falling within the Union’s competence.
The distinction may lack glamour, but it is fundamental.
An increase in shipping traffic does not demonstrate that Brussels has acquired new powers. Nor does it confer any legal title to the Arctic. It establishes precisely what it establishes: that shipping activity in the region has increased.
The Commission is perfectly entitled to draw political conclusions from such figures. It is rather harder to argue that the need to protect European interests entitles it to speak as though the entire region fell within European jurisdiction.
International law, after all, has the irritating habit of refusing to keep pace with the ambitions of those who would prefer to speak in its name.
Whatever Happened to the Great Power?
Here we come to a question considerably more important than an unfortunate turn of phrase about the Arctic.
What, precisely, gives rise to the belief that the President of the European Commission ought to occupy a seat at the table where the leaders of the United States, Russia and China take the decisions that matter most?
The European Union, certainly, possesses an enormous market, considerable economic weight, formidable regulatory instruments and substantial political potential. It is no mere spectator in international affairs.
But neither is it a federal state with a single government, a unified army and a foreign policy that emerges automatically from the collective will of its members. Its strength depends to a considerable extent on whether those member states are prepared to act together. The President of the Commission does not acquire, by virtue of her office alone, an unlimited mandate to represent Europe on every question under the sun.
One may, naturally, dream of a new Great Three — or even a Great Four — in which Europe would take its place as an equal centre of global power.
Before booking the table, however, a few questions might usefully be answered.
Who, on Europe’s behalf, would make binding decisions? Who would guarantee that they were carried out? What common military, economic and political resources could be brought to bear if the other participants simply chose to ignore the European position?
And, perhaps most pertinently of all, have Europe’s leaders actually agreed to entrust such authority to a single individual?
Until these questions are answered, a seat at the table remains principally an aspiration.
The Art of Diplomatic Smiling
There is no denying that personal charm, a polished public image and a talent for presentation can help a politician in international dealings. In diplomacy, as in life, a favourable first impression is often useful.
But a first impression is not a strategic instrument.
A smile may open the door to the drawing room. It will not persuade the host to hand over the keys to the house. It may improve the atmosphere around the negotiating table, but it cannot replace a common interest, a credible commitment or the ability to exert pressure.
Looking at Mrs von der Leyen’s great-power pronouncements, one is left with the impression that European politics suffers from a certain awkwardness. It would like to enjoy the privileges of a great power already, while leaving unresolved the questions of who is entitled to represent that power and what, in practical terms, its strength consists of.
We do not know whether this rhetoric springs from personal ambition, political calculation or an attempt to rally member states behind a common strategic purpose. But one need not speculate about the President’s private motives to recognise the gap between great-power language and the institutional limitations of the Union.
And it is that gap which makes the whole performance so interesting.
A Seat at the Table, or a Smile in Place of a Superpower
Perhaps Mrs von der Leyen genuinely believes that Europe deserves a seat at the table where the fate of the world is decided. She need not be wrong. Europe has its economy, its technology, its money, its potential and centuries of political experience.
It also has the European Commission, which announces with admirable regularity just how prominent a role Europe ought to play in world affairs.
There remains only one trifling matter: persuading the rest of the world — and, before that, the Europeans themselves.
For at the table of the great powers, it is not enough to announce that the Arctic is part of the European Union. One must also explain on what legal basis, in whose name and by means of which instruments that declaration is supposed to acquire practical effect.
Otherwise, one might be forgiven for thinking that Europe’s strategy consists of steadily enlarging the territory over which Brussels speaks with confidence, while postponing until a more convenient day the question of what, precisely, it can actually do there.
And so we return to the President.
We do not know whether her great-power rhetoric reflects personal ambition, political calculation or a conviction that Europe simply needs a more forceful voice. We do know, however, that no office — not even the highest executive office in the Union’s institutional hierarchy — can turn itself, by sheer force of declaration, into a mandate to decide the fate of the world.
And the smile? Of course, a smile can be useful in diplomacy. Occasionally, it may achieve more than a lengthy report or several rounds of negotiations.
But it cannot sign a treaty on behalf of a state that has granted no such authority. It cannot deploy a division that does not exist. Nor can it compel a great power to treat somebody else’s ambitions as its own concern.
Mrs von der Leyen appears to have concluded that all one need do is smile at a map of the Arctic until the Arctic feels itself part of the Union — and then, with the same winning smile, pull up a chair at the table of the great powers.
One can only wonder whether Washington, Moscow and Beijing have received their copies of the new map.
For it may turn out that, while Brussels is proudly redesigning the seating plan for the world, the other participants are still occupied with deciding who holds the cards, who sets the stakes and who will be expected to pick up the bill.
And I rather doubt that even Europe’s most celebrated smile will turn out to be an ace up its sleeve.
The Great Three need not refuse Mrs von der Leyen a seat at their table. They need only fail to notice when she brings in her own chair — and sits down, uninvited, at the little table in the corner.
