Over the last decade, and particularly following the transformation in world politics since 1989, ‘good governance’ became a term in inflationary use both by comparativist and international relations scholarship. Although its longevity may be questioned by those adhering to the rather more conventional analytical foci of economic liberalisation and democratisation, its pertinence has been consistently hailed by those subscribing to the promotion of flexible but value-driven patterns of (collective) rule-making. This paper aims at throwing light on the nature and aspirations of the European Union’s (EU) involvement with the promotion of political change in the Mediterranean, through the newly-instituted Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP), known also as the Barcelona Process [1]. Clarifying some conceptual and definitional problems confronting the ‘good governance’ approach to Euro-Mediterranean politics and society will be central to the development of a more profound understanding of the emerging regional formation.

A distinction crucial to the line of argument advanced in this paper is between democratisation and good governance. Grosso modo, the former refers to the process of attaining a democratic end-product with reference to the actual governance of a polity or political community or, as the case of the EU qua ‘sympolity’ clearly illustrates [2], of a plurality of polities locked together in a system of mutual governance. In this sense, the democratisation philology emphasises the institutional means by which democratic principles and processes are to become part of a polity’s modus operandi, with the view to establishing conditions of public accountability, political legitimacy - both input- and output-oriented - and active citizen participation. Although no consensus definition of democratisation (either as a process, strategy or otherwise) can be said to exist, central to its attainment are, inter alia, the praxis of competitive periodic elections, individual and/or collective executive accountability, meaningful legislative representation of the demos (whether single or composite in nature), a participatory civil society, and the rule of law (with or without a formal/written constitutional expression), to mention a few. 

This list could well be extended to include a variety of good democratic practices and procedures in the workings and composition of domestic institutions of governance, principles referring to some form of separation of powers, citizenship rights (and duties), respect for human and minority rights, promotion of associational-type organisations, policy responsiveness to the collective citizen body, and so on. The problem associated with the ‘democratisation approach’ to the promotion of political change in a state or group of states is that its substantive component and desired end-situation - ie, democracy - is intimately linked to the Western (liberal) political tradition. Hence, employing the language (and assorted value spheres and normative orientations) of democratisation might not be entirely, partly or at all appropriate as a guide towards the promotion of substantive political change in other parts of the globe, such as North Africa, the Middle East or South East Asia, whose component polities are characterised by different belief-systems, cultural traditions, political practices, civil and military arrangements, principles of economic development and organisation, social structures and conceptions of the ‘good polity’ as compared to the average Western liberal state.

Good governance on the other hand, seen primarily as a flexible policy structure or framework of rule, aims at distancing itself from absolute notions of democracy and democratisation, focusing instead on a set of norms and rules that are associated with what can be taken as a system of working relations based on the following constitutive elements: policy and decisional openness and transparency, public accountability, lack of corruption, the institutionalisation of civil society, the socio-political dimensions of legitimacy, civic competence, individual and collective liberties, minority and human rights, efficient public-sector management, equitable distribution of public resources, dialogical or deliberative political processes, the independence of the judiciary, the conception and enactment of well-articulated laws, and so on. What it lacks, therefore, as opposed to the democratisation strategy, is a clear focus on a final product of the process of change, be it transitory or transformative, linear or erratic, domestically driven or externally controlled. Instead, good governance may well focus on issues of political liberalisation, inter-faith or inter-cultural dialogue, and socio-economic governance, without however democracy being logically or necessarily located at the end of a continuum, whose poles are represented by ‘non-democracy’ (encompassing a variety of autocratic, authoritarian or totalitarian regimes) and full-blown democracy (or, as some realist democratic theorists would probably have it, polyarchy).

The general point to make is that the good governance approach forms the basis of a particular type of socio-political agenda informed by notions of mutualism and reciprocity, rather than by the universal applicability of liberal-democratic ideals in the sense of Huntington’s ‘clash of civilisation’ thesis. Its is above all an instrument for capacity-building in furthering inter-systemic convergence, without however subsuming the participating collectivities into an absolutist ideology of good (or better) democratic practice. Thus, central to the development of a more profound understanding of the emerging Euro-Mediterranean system is the need to acknowledge both the normative and procedural qualities of embedded diversity, difference and, where necessary, policy differentiation, as opposed to cross-systemic uniformity and, as the liberal-democratic canon often implies, principled universality. Above all, good governance does not easily become, to borrow from Niblock’s analysis, ‘subject to allegations of cultural bias’ [3]. Finally, despite the fact that, much like democratisation, no general agreement exists in the acquis académique as to what good governance comprises, unlike democratisation, it ‘constitutes a more diffuse and less directly challenging manifesto … emphasise[s] values and practices which are not absolutes … [and] enables concern with democracy to find expression through less direct but nonetheless significant channels’ [4].

Defining a ‘unique body of water’ 

The Mediterranean region constitutes an interactive system of states and societies, whose mapping remains nebulous. Although ‘different definitions and different criteria often produce different regions’ [5], the problem of defining this ‘unique body of water’ is that those who raise the same type of questions fail to agree on a geographically bounded unit of analysis. But defining the Mediterranean requires taking into account that ‘mental maps’ and ‘imagined spaces’ are those that ultimately define communities and political regions [6]. Pre-1945 maps of the region may look today archaic, yet the way in which such maps are drawn offer a powerful policy tool for controlling its component territories. But broad concepts such as the ‘West’ or the ‘Orient’ that continue to divide the region cover no well-delineated territories. Their appeal is in the associations they conjure up, mixing geographical space with socio-economic interaction, as well as with political and cultural identity to draw an imaginary but identifiable divide [7]. A more studied analysis reveals that the region offers an efficient line of contact. After all, in the disorderly universe of politics, perceptions generate reality. The ability to manage such perceptions is thus crucial, especially given that there is hardly another topic that have caused such a clear-cut split among its students: Christian Europe and the Islamic world.

Unlike most northern European countries that generally regard North Africa as an incongruent and ‘backward region’ of no great strategic interest, countries like Italy, Spain, France and Greece hold a different view. Likewise, for many North Africans, the dividing line between Europe and Africa lies in the Sahara and not the Mediterranean. Tempting as it may be to characterise the latter as ‘a kind of horizontal dividing line’ between the European North and ‘an arc of crisis’ located in the South, its division into Europe and ‘other’ fails to capture the dialectic between these distinct yet intertwined geographical spaces. A North-South conflict theoretical framework underestimates the realities of both North-North and South-South frictions and the sympathies that not only prevent the outbreak of autochthonous conflicts but also underlie Western European efforts to develop harmonious and balanced, albeit not symmetrical, relations across the Mediterranean [8]. While Calleya argues that the Mediterranean encompasses at least two ‘international regions’ (the EU and the Middle East) and three sub-regional groupings (southern Europe, the Mashreq and the Maghreb) [9], one could identify many variations in these divisions, presenting analysts with the problem of regional identity. From the perspective of international regionalism, although sub-regional constellations need a complex re-conceptualisation of wider regional dynamics, it is still useful to think of the Mediterranean as a single system (totality). Some of the many security considerations around the basin derive from similar trends such as unresolved questions of political legitimacy, slow growth to resurgent nationalism, religious radicalism, the search for regional dominance, arms supplies, strategic balances, etc. Another paradox arises when considering that it is security, rather than societal, economic or cultural considerations that legitimise a holistic approach to the study of Euro-Mediterranean politics [10]. True as it may be that security problems in the area can best be handled at the regional level, the question is how to achieve coherent patterns of interaction among Mediterranean states, as well as between them and the rest of the world so as to enhance regional stability [11].

The Mediterranean has been described as a dense network of diversities and dividing lines between different political and socio-economic (sub)systems, cultures and regimes, languages, forms of expression, and religious denominations. For a penetrating understanding of the Mediterranean to be reached, one has to recognise that the region has always been a crossing point for conflict and co-operation, unity and diversity.  Current discourses assert that the Mediterranean exists as an ‘entity’ or ‘unity’; a view which chimes well with Braudel’s, in that the Mediterranean formed a large-scale unity, whose history could be understood only by looking at the factors that tied its coastal parts together [12]. But as Aliboni asserts, the special bonds of Mediterranean solidarity will continue to form part of an open-ended debate [13]. In this context, Lister makes the point that the question of a Mediterranean ‘ideal’ of unity is rarely explicitly spelled out; rather, ‘it is usually a vague expression of goodwill and shared history’ [14]. Being a heterogeneous synthesis of religious and ethnic groups along the lines of a ‘heterarchy’, and of unequal economic development, a plurality of regimes, divergent perceptions of security, and uneven demographic growth, Mediterranean complexity occupies a prominent position between order and disorder. For our purposes, the Mediterranean is defined as a heterarchical regional space, where geography, history and politics intermesh with culture and religion with enormous complexity, resulting in a composite system of partial regimes, each reflecting a particular sense of being and belonging. 

From a macro-historical perspective, Mediterranean fragmentation constitutes the major obstacle to substantive regional co-operation. Contemporary analysts point to both real and potential conflicts that originate in or impact upon the region. In revisiting their respective causes, Balta distinguishes between conflicts that originate in the distant past and conflicts that emerged in the second half of the twentieth century [15]. Potential conflicts are divided into three categories: those inherited from colonialism (mainly territorial), those stemming from deeply divided societies (e.g., Lebanon), and those originating in minority issues (e.g., Basques, Corsicans, Kurds, etc). Conflicts inherited from the past are closely associated with the three monotheistic denominations affecting Mediterranean societies. These inheritances exemplify the denominational fractures among Christianity, Judaism and Islam, as well as the schisms between the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox camps, and between the Sunnis and Shiites. Such conflicts are the Arab-Israeli dispute, the Greco-Turkish rivalry, and the continuing division of Cyprus.

Following Spenser’s analysis, the prevailing view during the Cold War was that the Mediterranean represented ‘a region of importance because of its proximity, potential instability and hence exploitation by the erstwhile Soviet Union, but of less importance as an “out of area” region in NATO terms’ [16]. Post-1989, however, the emphasis shifted from global assessments of security issues to regional ones. Lesser argues that in the new strategic environment, problems and interests have shifted towards the South [17]. Although the aftermath of the Cold War gave the impression that certain protracted conflicts might be resolved, the easing of East-West tension was not followed by a similar trend in Mediterranean politics. Rather, the removal of the bipolarity and with it the view that wanted the Mediterranean to serve as a sub-theatre of superpower antagonism introduced an idiosyncratic fragility at both regional and sub-regional level.

Important security issues appear to be products of the new world (dis)order. The Gulf crisis of 1990/91 was the first major international conflict to be recorded in the era of Pax Americana post-Cold War, questioning the capabilities of European institutions, the impact of independent national diplomacies and the future of multinational crisis management. The Gulf crisis interrupted Europe’s newly-founded complacency about its own security, as it clearly showed that, without the US, Europe lacks the military capability to confront or deter its enemies in its southern flank [18]. Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait also highlighted the fragility of Arab unity. Not only did it disprove the myth that Arabs do not attack their brethren, but also exposed the poorer countries’ resentment towards the opulent life-style of the oil-rich monarchies and the shallowness of security arrangements in the Arab world [19]. At the same time, the initial euphoria of a universal collective security system hardly outlived the aftermath of the Gulf War, as the Yugoslav crisis destroyed the illusion of what US President Bush called a ‘new world order’. Although the aftermath of the Gulf War sparked an interest in issues of conflict-resolution in the Mediterranean [20], soon after the termination of the civil war in Lebanon, there was a return to traditional power-relations; the most striking examples being the stagnated Cyprus problem and the erratic Middle East Peace Process.

As Jervis rightly points out, in international relations, it is the threat itself as much as the perceptions of threat that guide policy-makers [21]. Today, most analysts agree that the Mediterranean does not present Europe with a major military threat [22], as the growing arms races in the region and its militarisation are mainly intended for use on a south-south scale. Not surprisingly, then, EU states are more concerned about losing control over their energy supplies and growing illegal migration. Similarly, they are preoccupied with increased instability in parts of North Africa and the weakness of democratic institutions. Although issue-specific disputes are not to be ruled out, the main security risk is linked to the new challenges posed by radical movements and the growing north-south economic asymmetries. Nor do southern Mediterranean countries perceive any direct military threat from Europe, for they tend to associate ‘security’ chiefly with domestic concerns. Still though, the international management of domestic crises exacerbates anti-Western feelings: ‘Even talking about it may have a destabilising effect’ [23]. This perception stems from a chain of events that have fuelled a deep sense of strategic insecurity in the Arab world. The Gulf War, the international isolation imposed on Iraq and Libya, and the overwhelming US preoccupation with Israeli security have convinced the Arabs that the West may not hesitate to strike out against them should its interests require so. Most North African regimes are sceptical of Europe’s willingness to play a decisive role in Mediterranean security [24], while they are suspicious of NATO’s involvement in the region [25], despite its initiative for a ‘Mediterranean Dialogue’ [26]. For their part, finally, EU states exhibit a relative difficulty in dealing with Mediterranean security, in contrast to dealing with similar problems in other transformative regions.

Islamophobia and modernity in a changing world 

Mediterranean security is full of misunderstandings about distorted perceptions and images of Islam, as well as about the threat of terrorism used by extremist nationalist movements. Other issues stem from the appropriation of Islam for political ends and the tensions arising from questions regarding universal values and norms of human rights. These misunderstandings emanate as much from mutual ignorance, as they do from intended confusion. One should also guard against the simplification often suggested in the media that ‘Islamic fundamentalism’ is a violent and merciless force orchestrated by Iran with the help of other radical regimes [27]. As Essid points out, ‘there is still a need to define and redefine terms which reduce dialogue to a series of parallel monologues and, at several levels, reinforce misunderstandings’ [28]. It is thus of great value that any meaningful debate about Islam should dispel the clouds of deliberate myth-making and revengeful rhetoric that are particularly detrimental to a mutually rewarding dialogue.

During the Gulf War, the West was seriously concerned with the possibility of a militant Islamist backlash against intervention, unveiling several fault-lines between and within Mediterranean polities and societies. This signalled the re-arrangement of world order, reducing East-West antagonism to a minimum, while re-emphasising the Orient-Occident and North-South divides, thus offering useful ammunition to those arguing that the dominant conflict post-1989 is between Occidental and Oriental values, or an Occidental economic/technological ‘post-historical’ world and an Oriental ‘historical’ world [29]. Rather effortlessly, Huntington depicted multiple (sub)regional ‘clashes’ as a result of the irrefutable existence of different cultures (civilisations), projecting a historical Mediterranean fragmentation, rather than unity [30]. His Clash of Civilisations raised the question of security’s cultural dimension, in that the ‘clash’ occurs along the lines of religiously inspired militancy against Western liberal values. But his analysis missed the underlying causes of Islamic resurgence, as it is obsessed with the cultural symbols or the retrieval of collective historical memories. A related criticism is that, by rewriting Muslim history, he failed to encourage intelligent dialogue between the two opposing cultures. As Sachedina asserts, such scholarship effectively corrupts the common moral and political language of the two cultures, fosters confrontation, and prolongs historical stereotypes [31]. Arguing that the notion of ‘Islam vs. the West’ will not represent the arena of the next ideological struggle, Fuller and Lesser suggest that a comprehensive reform to break away from authoritarianism is imperative, that political Islam threatens the established order in Muslim countries far more than the West, and that confrontation can best be prevented by integrating Islam into the global process [32]. 

With the majority of pre-liberal images being influenced by the pre-eminent role attached to a value-driven distinction between the individual and the collective, it was thanks to the legacy of the Enlightenment that certain notions of ‘civility’ were linked to a more normative political language. Such a legacy has largely survived the present era, with the West attempting to monopolise global discourse on the democratic functions of government and human rights. But much like those in the West, Muslims believe that their faith has a divine purpose too, motivating them to set the world straight. They believe to be the chosen people following the righteous path to ‘judgement day’. More than religion and polity, Islam is also a culture with a different perception of the relationship between church and state. Although the roots of this discourse can be traced to the revival of classic Greek ideas and the Renaissance, the coming of modernity clearly exposed the differences between the two cultures [40]. Most Arab societies were introduced to the logic of modernisation under the heavy pressure of colonial Europe. Modernisation was more successful in dismantling the traditional structures than in setting up their modern replacements [41]. The process of adaptation to modernity is still going on for Islamic countries. Although Gellner has argued that Islamic culture is endowed with a number of features that are congruent with requirements of modernity or modernisation [42], many Muslim leaders still fight for a line ‘back to the roots’. Arab governing elites are particularly eclectic in picking out those ‘values of modernisation’ that best fit their aims for maintaining power and control like modern weapons, surveillance technology and consumer goods. Such processes of ‘selective sorting out’ and ‘selective adaptation’ do not allow the Western value system to be accepted by these societies. Instead, modernisation is often reduced to a symbol of moral decay, with Western influence having to be controlled for it increases the technological, military, economic and scientific superiority and/or hegemony of the capitalist world. 

In Western polities, a separation of state and religion (secularism) was necessary to safeguard the modernisation project - and its assorted properties of industrialisation, urbanisation, bureaucratisation, technology, growth in communications, etc. - but Islam is still against any such separation [43]. Huntington observes that fundamentalist Islam demands political rulers to be practising Muslims: ‘shari’a [Islamic law] should be the basic law, and ulema [theologians and jurists] should have “a decisive vote in articulating, or at least reviewing and ratifying, all governmental policy”’ [44]. According to Islamists, modernity may only be reached within the framework of indigenous values and not through their assimilation to Western culture. As Aliboni asserts, modernisation through imitation of the West is but a trap leading to subordination [45]. In this context, Huntington notes that, ‘to the extent that governmental legitimacy and policy flow from religious doctrines and religious expertise, Islamic concepts of politics differ from and contradict the premises of democratic politics’ [46]. This view accords with Diamond, Linz and Lipset’s earlier analysis that ‘the Islamic countries of the Middle East and Northern Africa ... appear to have little prospect of transition even to semi-democracy’ [47]. But it comes in direct opposition to Pool’s claims that ‘the view that Islam is utterly incompatible with democracy, whatever form the latter takes, is to view Islam from a limited and simplistic perspective. Contemporary Islam can be democratic, undemocratic and anti-democratic and the political orientations of Muslim and Islamic movements have exhibited similar variations’ [48]. Although Curdy argues that democracy and Islam ‘are contradictory only if democracy is defined by certain Western standards’ [49], Pool is right to suggest that ‘presidents and kings remain in charge of a state-controlled process of democratisation as part of strategies of ... regime survival’ [50]. 

The revival of Islam per se, of political Islamism, and of Islamic radicalism are products of these antitheses. Fragmented and struggling with modernity, Islam now faces a variety of challenges including potentially violent movements. The threat of radicalism currently manifested in the Southern Mediterranean rim lies in the fact that many of its essential aspects represent a reaction to years of intolerable political and socio-economic conditions. In this sense, the fundamentalist threat is not merely a symptom of deeply rooted differences between the West and Islam, but also a means of responding to post-colonial pressures towards liberalisation, which is perceived as threatening the ‘inner cohesion’ of the Islamic tradition. In this context, religion is used to cover other deficits like economic, social and political, pointing to an alleged inferiority in self-perception, dissatisfaction in terms of social development and the non-acceptance of an organisational/technocratic problem-solving capacity of ‘the other’. In brief, the creation of a climate of open dialogue in the Mediterranean may not be an easy task given the tendency by both sides to fuel prejudices, but as long as misperceptions persist and differences are not tolerated, the existing tensions between Islam and Europe will be merely offering an apology for inaction. Therefore, a new ‘hermeneutics of civilizational dialogue’ [51] emanates as a praesumptio juris et de jure: a dialectic of cultural self-realisation through a reciprocal exchange based on a philosophy of mutual understanding that does away with any subjectivist view that wants the ‘West’ to act as a universal civilising force based on an almost metaphysical obligation to humanity. But let us now turn to the Barcelona Process and examine the extent to which it has marked a break with past European policies towards the region, by means of advancing the socio-cultural dimension of Euro-Mediterranean governance. 

The political aims of the EMP, following the signing of the Barcelona Declaration on 28 November 1995, were not extensively discussed to avoid drawing attention to the democratic deficit in the Middle East [52]. Although US foreign policy-makers saw the EU’s involvement in the region as a direct invasion of European diplomacy to an area firmly located within their traditional sphere of influence, all partner states stressed that, while the EMP was not to replace other regional initiatives, it would contribute to their success. Yet, no operational role was foreseen for the EMP in the ongoing Middle East Peace Process, although it was hoped that it could mark a positive economic impact. The Barcelona Conference managed to bring together Israeli and Syrian representatives at the same table, which was inconceivable for any previous initiative. The participation of these Arab countries bestowed a considerable degree of legitimacy to the meeting. A contributing factor was the euphoria that stemmed from the achievement of significant progress in the Oslo peace talks [53]. In an atmosphere of ‘high hopes and low motives’[54], the Conference became the ‘launching pad’ [55] for a regional process aiming to preserve peace and stability, set up a shared prosperity zone and promote a structured political dialogue among the partners. Although the Declaration is not in itself a historical turning point, as its main objective was not one of regional integration, it brought about a new co-operative spirit in political/security, economic/financial, and socio-cultural matters, aided by a follow-up mechanism. It is to the third area that we now turn. 

A Commission official described the inclusion of the socio-cultural dimension as a mini-revolution in itself [56]. Its scope was wide-ranging and ambitious, granting NGOs and civil society representatives a significant role in EMP affairs. As Colas put it: ‘The incorporation of civil society into the Barcelona process is a clear case of international regime formation, which seeks to respond to changes of intergovernmental elitism’ [57]. Linkages and networks between civil societies in both Mediterranean shores may lay the foundation for knowledge, understanding and mutual confidence, which are vital components to the construction of a Euro-Mediterranean social space. Co-operation among civil societies should not take the form of assistance or the imposition of the Western liberal-democratic model. Rather, it should incorporate the component civil societies in political decision-making and also take into account their respective particularities. The Declaration underlined that ‘the reinforcement of democracy and respect for human rights’ are indeed the essential elements of the entire project. But co-operation in these areas is also the most sensitive dimension of the EMP, for the debate on democracy and human rights in the region is linked to issues of identity, rights and reciprocal civilisational interaction. Certain sectors of North African and Middle Eastern public opinion suspect that the West wants to impose its civilisation and hegemony under the guise of universal democratic principles, whilst in the North, in parallel to the explosion of racism and xenophobia, the preconceived idea that there is an intrinsic incompatibility between (political) Islam and democracy has developed at both grassroots and elite level [58]. As Fahmy points out, potential differences may emerge in the various conceptions of democracy and human rights, and the only way for their resolution is through a cultural dialogue to reconcile the contending interpretations [59]. 

The EMP aims at bringing the peoples of the envisaged Euro-Mediterranean space closer together, to promote shared or at least mutually compatible understandings of governance and collective rule-making, to eliminate discomforting cultural stereotypes and, in general, to project positive images among the partner polities. Arguably, such a ‘pro-active’ approach to fostering a sense of Euro-Mediterranean (societal) security challenges the islamophobic ‘clash of civilisations’ thesis and its assorted conceptions of religious and cultural conflict. The means for bringing the component collectivities closer together with the view to setting the scene for a ‘new cultural order’ [60], rest on an inter-cultural hermeneutic dialogue in a wide range of issue areas like cultural heritage, media, inter-faith communication, and so on. The third basket highlights common roots (as part of a common experience) and the richness of the region’s cultural diversity, in an attempt to do away with negative pre-conceptions. But building the socio-cultural Partnership is a delicate process, not least due to difficulties inherent in sustaining a constructive cultural dialogue among distinct units. All the more so, if such a dialogue aims at transcending images from the region’s colonial past, feelings of intolerance and xenophobia, as well as a narrow view of national, and in some cases ethnic, identity. 

An additional obstacle may be that any inter-civilisational dialogue implies cultural exchanges and mobility that are not always easy to achieve in the southern rim. In light of the above, what is needed is a new hermeneutics of north-south perceptions, together with the inclusion of religious and socio-cultural rights in the debate on democracy and modernity. Although the third basket is often projected as being only of secondary importance to the politico-economic dimensions of the EMP (focusing on security and free trade issues), the view taken here is that it is potentially the most revolutionary outcome of the nascent regional process. It is a recognition that trade, investment and economic assistance are part of an evolutionary and purposeful process that incorporates a substantive human dimension. After making obligatory references to ‘dialogue and respect among cultures and religions’ as ‘a necessary precondition for bringing peoples closer’, the third basket identifies the need for a programme of human exchanges between the two coastal shores, whilst including the utilisation and further development of human resources in the region. In addition, it touches upon the sensitive issues of illegal immigration, organised crime and drugs trafficking, as well as on co-operation between local authorities, trade unions, interest associations, and public and private companies. Finally, the Declaration recognised the challenges posed by ever-alarming demographic trends in southern Mediterranean and declared that these should be counterbalanced by appropriate policy measures to advance socio-economic progress. 

Turning to the policy level, in its communication to the Council of Ministers and the EP, the Commission indicated the priorities of the Second Euro-Mediterranean Ministerial Conference that was agreed to take place in 1997. After reviewing the first 15 months of the EMP and the state of negotiations in the Association Agreements with the twelve Mediterranean partners, the Commission suggested several objectives for future co-operation [61]. It proposed a Euro-Mediterranean Charter for Peace and Stability to endorse the achievements of the first pillar, while on the question of social, cultural and human affairs, it reported that efforts had already begun in the spheres of cultural heritage, promotion of human rights, education and dialogue among civil society agents, and that these efforts should be intensified along with the taking of measures to combat drugs-traffic and organised crime. After the Declaration, the process moved forward through new Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements which updated and enhanced existing bilateral arrangements. In addition to the Customs Union with Turkey, new Association Agreements were signed with Jordan, Israel, the Palestinian Authority, Morocco and Tunisia [62], while close to completion were those with Egypt and Algeria. 

Still though, no substantive progress has been achieved in third pillar issues. In particular, the 1997 Malta communiqué reported serious disagreements over language referring to human rights and referred only in passu to ‘the rule of law, democracy and human rights’ as commonly shared objectives. During 1997, many EU governments took up ratification of the new Euro-Mediterranean Association Agreements that the EU had earlier initiated with Tunisia, Israel and Morocco. During the ratification process, parliamentarians and others raised questions of human rights compliance, particularly with reference to Israel, as specified in Article 2 of the Agreements. Several EU states indicated that they would seek to have the Commission set-up a human rights monitoring mechanism as part of the implementation process. But no EU member demanded human rights improvements from Israel, Tunisia or Morocco, as a condition for ratifying their respective Association Agreements. In 1997 the EU signed an interim Association Agreement with the Palestinian Authority and was scheduled to sign one with Jordan later in November, while negotiations continued with Egypt and Algeria. As EU and Syrian officials were about to open negotiations, the Council continued to suppress a November 1995 report on human rights in Syria that the EP had mandated as a pre-requite for economic assistance (along the lines of the conditionality principle). 

Central to the Malta process was the need for a renewed political commitment to ensure a close balance in all three baskets, although some partners felt that progress in the first basket was overtaking progress in the remaining two. The Malta Conclusions attempted to redress this imbalance, albeit partially, by indirectly slowing down progress in the first basket [63]. In general, the Malta Conference was unsuccessful in revitalising the Arab-Israeli peace talks and in reviewing progress in the implementation of the Barcelona provisions. But at the rhetoric level, the first Euro-Mediterranean Review Conference stressed that the Partnership is an ‘irreversible process’, albeit not too well equipped to confront the challenges of a turbulent region. In this context, it is fair to suggest that cultural relations have been subject to extensive scrutiny due to the absence of any visible progress post-1995, despite the appearance of a strongly stated political commitment to placing the socio-cultural dimension on an equal footing with the other two. The 1998 Rhodes Ministerial Conference confirmed the priorities of the cultural Partnership. This strategy was outlined also in subsequent meetings in Stockholm and Palermo, and was based on the following objectives: focussing activities on a small number of thematic framework programmes; increasing public involvement; and encouraging the establishment of networks of cultural operators at a regional level so as to foster exchanges of experience and further develop joint endeavours. 

Towards a Euro-Mediterranean regime 

Jünemann defines the EMP as ‘the climax of a political process that started shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall, but more than that it marks the starting point of a new era of interregional relations’ [64]. Keeping in mind Edwards and Philippart’s view that the EMP has led to a process whose analysis and interpretation encompasses different theoretical possibilities [65], its philosophy has been summarised by Derisbourg as non-paternalistic, based on recognition of interdependencies, shared interests and the right to development and freedom, the need for decentralised co-operation, as well as the importance of the private sector and of a continuous dialogue at both intergovernmental and civil society levels [66]. A new phase in Euro-Mediterranean relations has thus emerged, consisting of openness, prior dialogue and joint tasks from policy-design to implementation. As Jünemann reiterates, however, ‘the Barcelona concept aims at a careful westernisation of the Mediterranean, gradually converting it into an area of economic and political influence’ [67]. Regarding the commitment to democracy and human rights, it seems that some non-EU partners will at some stage face the reality that the other participants, European or not, might actually insist on the preservation of the principles and norms agreed in Barcelona. But although the political conditionality underlying the economic and financial Partnership ‘allows the EU to suspend its commitments in cases of failure concerning democracy or respect of human rights, offering an apparently effective instrument to influence the process of democratisation ... it exposes the MPCs to the good will of the Europeans, thus offending their demand for equal partnership’ [68]. 

As Fahmi notes, the EMP resolved the major question of whether regional security would be addressed within a strictly Mediterranean context or within a wider framework encompassing European security concerns [69]. Although the Declaration did not linger over the meaning of security and stability, it produced a clearly Eurocentric perspective of the ‘common threat’ [70]. The EMP was a collective attempt to redefine European threat perceptions towards the region by addressing issues of social unrest and economic underdevelopment, rather than by detecting a direct Arab military threat. Although the initial target date for the establishment of a free trade area in the region is the year 2010, EU states made no secret of the fact that the aid plan for the transition period intended to contribute to the slowing of migratory flows to their respective societies. The argument is that with trade growing, jobs will be created in Mediterranean countries and immigration will slow down. From this view, political change in the south is expected to result from large-scale economic liberalisation. In this context, Kienle notes that this approach is a retouched version of the theory of markets as a democratising force [71]. 

This ‘automatic pilot’ theory of the market is among the basic tenets of liberalism. For economists and political thinkers such as Adam Smith or Herbert Spencer social harmony is spontaneous. It does not require coercive force to be produced or for that matter maintained. Laissez-faire, the argument goes, defined in the context of pursuing individual interests, is capable of producing co-operation in other fields automatically. But the proposition that this theory applies to international markets that consist only of independent agents trading for their own account and competing against each other is largely questionable. For it may well be that economic rationality, along the lines of an ‘exchange Gesellschaft’, continues to play a central role in the economic governance of an ever globalising, if not already globalised, market economy, but this is not the case in the Mediterranean, where elements of economic rationality coexist with a struggle for power. It is, then, highly unrealistic to subscribe to the view that a kind of automatic governance could spontaneously emerge from the approach adopted in Barcelona. 

From a purely economic perspective, the Barcelona document does not represent a radical break with past European policies towards the Mediterranean, but rather it is ‘a deepening of past efforts’ [72], in that it incorporates in its economic agenda more clearly defined global objectives. In overall terms, the entire project was a sign of the EU’s willingness to play an increasingly active economic role in bringing all partners closer together and in reducing political and social sources of conflict. But building the envisaged free trade area pre-supposes that partners will come to understand each other with the view to sharing, albeit gradually, the same practices. Since the Declaration, any rigid distinction along economic, political and socio-cultural lines can only be made at the cost of avoiding the complexity of Euro-Mediterranean social and political reality. Herein lies perhaps the most innovative aspect of the EU’s Mediterranean approach post-1995: that in addition to the traditional economic pattern of intra-regional relations, there now appears to be an intrinsic link between security and socio-cultural arenas.

According to Marquina, no existing notion of security gives backbone to the EMP and that the documents themselves contain incoherence and imprecision regarding the concepts of co-operative security, preventative diplomacy and ‘good neighbourliness’ [73]. He also claims that these principles remain under-explained in both conceptual and operative aspects. Despite such views, however, one could legitimately argue that there exists a degree of coherence, albeit not organisational symmetry, let alone isomorphism, within the EU’s intention, in that economic problems can only be tackled once issues of political legitimacy are adequately addressed. Ultimately, most Mediterranean players seem to agree that institutionalised regional co-operation would have to involve, least of all in terms of implementation, the private sector, business enterprises and individuals [74]. Aliboni argues that such an initiative is the result of a remarkable and successful effort by the EU to innovate and reinforce its Mediterranean policy, in that its efforts towards a ‘structured strategy of regionalism’ are now clearly marked by elements of change predicated on the establishment of a free trade regime and the search for a common area of peace and stability to provide security and support economic development [75]. But the economic objectives, which are to be met through a series of institutional reforms, hide security risks since accelerated market liberalisation in the southern rim could produce greater waves of socio-political instability. Moreover, the EMP has not yet either operationalised or regularised political co-operation, something that may prove vital in case of further economic recession in the southern rim. These mechanisms are cited in the Barcelona document (encouraging information exchanges and establishing dialogue mechanisms) and in the Action Plan that was set out at the beginning of the process. 

Joffé makes the point that the EU, in seeking to employ a meaningful global and comprehensive approach, should provide the following set of mechanisms: support for responsive and participatory political processes sustained by the encouragement of economic transparency and accountability within a codified and independent legal structure; collective co-operative security alongside viable economic restructuring; and a financial commitment to the creation of a vital human and physical infrastructure that will make the economic refashioning of the region into a ‘win-win situation for all’ [76]. In general, the EMP aims at correcting the structural deficits evident in past European policies and can be seen, in Gillespie’s words, as ‘emblematic of a process’ being constituted from a dynamic set of international exchanges, but still falling short of a meaningful Partnership [77]. At the same time, it is a vital step in the process of animating some confident expectations towards the emergence of a common ‘Euro-Mediterranean consciousness’, laying the groundwork for the creation of an international regime [78]. 

Indeed, the EMP can be seen as a nascent and multidimensional regime that aims at establishing links between political, economic and socio-cultural arenas. The core claim here is that states obey the rules embodied in international regimes due to the functional benefits the latter provide. For the moment, however, the regional Partnership represents a balance of separate national preferences, rather than a common Euro-Mediterranean interest per se. Although it sets up a system of flexible regional arrangements, the substantial differentiation of the ratio with the Community budget for the economic reconstruction of Central and Eastern Europe has been the major reason for attracting the interest of southern Mediterranean countries [79]. In particular, the EMP is propelled by a certain ‘economism’ whose financial rather than trade implications are favourable to the non-EU partners. In return to the above, EU governments linked issues of economic liberalisation to a set of political principles and norms of good governance. 

Keohane, in an influential study that straddled the lines of realist and neoliberalist thinking, suggested that international regimes are ‘institutions with explicit rules, agreed upon governments that pertain to particular sets of issues in international relations’ [80]. This is of special importance considering that Euro-Mediterranean politics combine both power politics considerations and questions of increased complex interdependence. Keohane’s ‘lean’ definition of the term has the advantage of relieving scholars from the burden of justifying their decision to call a given injunction a ‘norm’ rather than a ‘rule’ [81]. The above definition is helpful since norms are not explicit in the complex framework of Euro-Mediterranean relations and since no substantive level of institutional autonomy characterise the operation of the newly formed mechanisms. Although the EMP offers some general rules of conduct to govern the behaviour of the participants, it remains weak in relation to the development of an identifiable set of norms. Ceteris paribus, it can be seen as an international regime in statu nascendi, albeit one that accords with Keohane’s ‘lean’ definition of the term. Without a better or less nebulous definition offered by the acquis académique, such a claim remains valid. 

A distinctive feature of international relations today is that power is becoming more widely dispersed and low politics acquire more salience for scholars and policy-makers. Developments in Euro-Mediterranean politics and attempts at institutionalising the EMP are no exception. The latter, only a handful of years since its inception remains in limbo between a loose association of states and an internationalised regional regime. The question is whether the EMP can sustain itself for any length of time without becoming first a system of patterned behaviour, generating a notion of rules of the game to guide and structure international behaviour. From a linear projection of Euro-Mediterranean governance, the Partnership could evolve, in time, into a full-blown regional regime with an institutional life of its own. At present, however, and given the rather discomforting empirical developments in the process, no such entity has fully come into being, in terms of complying with the basic analytic tenet of rule-governed behaviour. 

On the other hand, the fascinating element in the evolving Partnership is that, from a dynamic macro-political perspective, it may well prove capable of instrumentalising the principles and norms embedded in the Barcelona Declaration and transform them into concrete rules of the game based on shared beliefs, standards of behaviour and, crucially, decision-making procedures for implementing collective choice. Keeping in mind Olsen’s point that ‘[w]righting rules for a large number of heterogeneous countries is no easy task] [82], especially with the view to making these rules fit the special conditions and particular situation of each country, implementation is central to the viability of regional regime-formation, for the latter process emphasises the need for institutionalisation and the development of an international co-operative culture among partner states and societies. For it is the combined effects of institutionalisation, in the sense of ‘learning one’s place in a larger order’ [83], and international culture, in terms of developing repertoires of shared understandings, that bring about a purposeful system of mutual governance. The idea here is to regularise a form of co-operation that, as Jervis notes, is more than the following of short-term self-interest (or power maximisation) [84]. 

But it would be wrong to equate in any deterministic fashion the end-result of the Barcelona Process with the formation of a regional regime per se. For these constructs are not regarded as ends themselves. Rather, as Krasner states, ‘[o]nce in place they do affect related behaviour and outcomes. They are not merely epiphenomena’ [85].From this angle, regimes impact on policy outcomes and related behaviour, thus transcending ‘structural orientations [that] conceptualise a world of rational self-seeking actors’ [86]. In short, regimes make a difference, in that they often transcend a state-centric realist perspective that primarily reflects calculations of self-interest. The relationship between patterned behaviour and convergent expectations is a key to our understanding of international regimes: those two aspects create an environment of ‘conditionalised behaviour’ that in turn ‘generates recognised norms’ that transcend national boundaries and nurture a broader social space [87]. Contrary to structural arguments made by realists, international regimes have an independent impact on behaviour and are a crucial part of patterned human interaction. The latter view is drawn from the Grotian tradition, where ‘regimes are a pervasive and significant phenomenon in the international system’ [88]. 

In the case of the EMP, it could be argued that regime-creation is directed at setting the limits of acceptable behaviour within a nascent and flexibly arranged structure of governance. Noteworthy in that respect is that the Partnership addressed the post-Cold War Mediterranean reality as an overlap of different regions bringing together different dimensions [89]. The flexibility of the EMP sets the limits of ‘consciousness-raising’ in issues of Euro-Mediterranean governance and the possibility of the regional formation to acquire operational capabilities. Its weak institutional structure makes it difficult for individual actors to transcend the pursuit of short-term interests. But regimes also deploy a system of interconnectedness among different arenas of collective action that helps explain the nature and complexity of interdependence among the actors involved who, in turn, are conscious of the need to achieve mutually rewarding outcomes. Yet, being a highly fragmented system of policy interactions, any future attempts to navigate the dynamics of the Euro-Mediterranean governance need to be differentiated according to the specific conditions of co-operation embedded within its structures. In particular, the EMP encompasses a multiplicity of norms of behaviour, which in the end determine the degree and intensity of actors’ involvement. Further, a partial conceptualisation of its component baskets as separate pillars is not particularly helpful when assessing its cross-sectional political properties - i.e., what defines it as a nascent regional system. 

Conceptualising the EMP through the lens of regime theory has the advantage of moving away from a formalistic approach to multilateralism, institutional linkages and the impact of domestic politics on regional affairs: it could set in train a process for the internationalisation of issues and their inclusion under a flexible management system. But it is still questionable how far the EMP can realise its objectives under its currently weak institutional structure, and without investing in partnership-building measures on questions with the view to developing a credible socio-cultural dialogue and a Charter for Peace and Stability with proper compliance mechanisms [90]. The envisaged Charter will be an exercise in pre-emptive diplomacy in the form of an institutionalised alliance of co-operative states. In addition, it can provide the levels of transparency necessary for a continuous and structured political dialogue among distinct socio-cultural settings, along with the necessary machinery for managing endemic crises and often-protracted conflicts. Also, the emerging Parliamentary Forum could provide the EMP an additional legitimising platform from which to promote peace, stability and a regular dialogue for engendering the awareness of common interests and the creation of symbiotic structures of governance and problem-solving. Both agenda-identification (the acknowledgement of legitimate claims by a partner) and agenda-setting functions (the way in which such claims are included) could be achieved through the institutionalisation of the Forum. A normative implication here is that the proliferation of legitimate arenas will have an important domestic impact on the partners’ policy strategy, in that they would now have to direct their claims to, and via, additional legitimate avenues. In any case, it would be interesting to evaluate the endorsement of this parliamentary structure and assess the extent to which its mechanisms can accommodate declared principles and particular interests. All the above beg the question of why states are bound by certain norms, principles, rules and decision-making procedures. Regime theory offers a plausible answer: whether or not international co-operation is an a priori objective of states, the latter pursue their interests more effectively by being members of a larger association. 

Reflections on a transformative order

‘Current political transformations and reforms in Europe as well as in other parts of the world’, writes Olsen, ‘are redefining the terms of political life’ [91], reactivating basic questions of (good) governance. Fundamental changes in the conditions of shared rule pose new challenges to the search for viable orders based on stable authority patterns within and between states and societies. These ascending challenges offer the formative context for the integration of domestic and international politics and, by extension, the conditions for developing a better understanding of the process of global change. At the same time, the struggle for social and political equality, the ever widening chasm between rich and poor, as well as the displacement of bipolarity by deep divisions of socio-cultural and political values at various levels, point in the belief that defining elements of separateness proceeds hand in hand with the need to identify degrees of common understanding among a plethora of public, semi-public and private actors operating under conditions of complex interdependence and global interconnectedness. 

Against this swiftly changing background, whose intellectual outcome - amongst many - has been the ascendance of ‘identity politics’ and with it of new, non-territorial and even post-national forms of fellowship and representation, the Mediterranean refers to a heterarchical regional space, whose history, politics and complexity continues to spark the interest of international scholarship. Such composite mosaic of self-images, belief-systems and identities results, as claimed earlier in this paper, in a composite system of partial regimes, each reflecting a particular sense of being and belonging. Arguably, this largely constructivist definitional approach is specific enough to map the peculiarities of the region and broad enough to allow for the accommodation of complementary variables. Indeed, the relationship between complexity and reality in the region can be understood as having developed from a uniquely Mediterranean context. The above syllogisms are themselves testimony to the enduring influence of cultural distinctiveness and civilisational diversity in the politics of regional order-building; with the Mediterranean remaining a divided (social) construct within a transformative globe. 

The active engagement of multiple actors in Euro-Mediterranean politics post-1995 may thus exacerbate the possibilities for reaching substantive agreement on many good governance issues, including transparent policy-making, economic security-building, civil-military relations, respect for human rights, co-operative conflict management and, ultimately, intra-regional (sub-systemic) reconciliation. As Zartman and Bergman note, successful negotiations change established perceptions of conflict from a ‘zero-sum’ to a ‘win-win’ situation [92]. Partnership-building and a shared commitment to mutually rewarding outcomes can feed into this process, constituting an crucial adjunct to inter-segmental accommodation and, above all, the emergence of a sense of security at the grassroots. Central to this endeavour is the institutionalisation of the EMP and, in the words of Olsen, arguably the maître penseur in this regard, ‘the emergence of enduring practices and rules, structures of meaning and resources’ [93]. This is all the more so, given the need for a new civilisational dialogue to do away with the subjectivist approach that wants the West to act as a universal human rights protector based on fixed notions of democratic governance and a predominantly liberal understanding of political order.

Limited as it may be, the potential for systematising a new politics of institutional accommodation in the region awaits utilisation. Working on the concept of a socially viable Euro-Mediterranean order implies maximum use of civil society mechanisms and monitoring structures with the view to improving, as opposed to merely increasing, the levels of transparency in the workings of common institutions of governance. A difficulty associated with this line of development is that the socio-cultural Partnership has not yet operationalised or even regularised the normative ambitions of the Barcelona Declaration. The levels of complexity stemming from the particular nature of protracted conflicts and threat (mis)perceptions constrain the implementation of agreed principles and objectives. Linked to the above is the claim that effective order-building cannot be realised under the present institutional configuration of the EMP as a whole. Although its flexibility is a positive element in managing interdependence, its weak institutional structure makes it difficult for partners to sacrifice the pursuit of short-term interests on the altar of substantive regional co-operation. But what model of institution-building should the Partnership proceed with so as to reorganise the Euro-Mediterranean order? A plausible answer is that the partners would have to foster an atmosphere in which norms of good governance act as a system-steering agency in the construction of a larger pluralist order. In this context, the prospective Charter of Peace and Stability may lay the groundwork for mutual governance based on legitimate patterns of shared rule, while also provide the levels of transparency, stability and trust needed for any meaningful regional partnership to consolidate itself. But it must be flexible enough to allow the southern partners to develop their own ‘styles’ of political liberalisation. 

Although the regional process cannot but go ahead by trial and error, it is crucial to keep a fundamental direction: designing efficient systems of internationalised shared rule requires a maximum of what might be called ‘capacity for governance’. At the macro-systemic level, such a capacity is presently lacking, not only due to various institutional weakness per se, but also due to the absence of credible political commitments by the partners to make effective use of existing arrangements. As Couloumbis and Veremis note, ‘the central question, in theory as well as in practice, is whether the Mediterranean region ... will manage to fit into a functionalist paradigm which permitted Western Europe ... to move forward toward economic and political integration employing the geoeconomic premises of Jean Monnet and abandoning the military power considerations of Clausevitzian geopolitics’ [94]. From this view, the EMP, combining both low and high politics areas, may prove instrumental in fostering a new co-operative ethos among its members. The argument is that interest-convergence around economic tasks acts as a means of contributing to a relaxation of tensions in areas where controversy is more likely to arise than not. The composite nature of the EMP offers a wide range of opportunities for the functionalist expectations of the partners to form the basis of a consensually pre-determined set of policies, which are crucial to overall systemic stability. The Partnership can thus be taken as a system of rules governing the interaction of interdependent actors around functional tasks. By elevating the creation of rules of transaction to a systemic property of the regional process, a certain economic bias may prevail, whose liberalising effects could offer a platform from which substantive rewards can be gained for all. This points to a preference for a functionalist strategy that is nevertheless embedded within the practise of market-oriented regimes.  

Be that as it may, central to the need for accommodating dialogue in the fragmented Euro-Mediterranean system for preserving regional stability is the role of institutions. The problem is one of organising regional politics out of the systemic complexity of a heterarchical regional space, where several civilisations have mutually influenced and enriched each other. But to break down such regional complexity, one has first to realise the importance of diversity as an essentialistic principle: the regional system is itself constituted in the clash of different sub-systems. A heterarchical order minimises homogeneity/universality as the principal referent for sub-systemic co-operation. This form of enhanced particularity through a reflexive appropriation of difference becomes the basic normative unit of the system itself. This resonates with a broader aspiration of partnership that transcends any mono-dimensional configuration of power, stressing instead the complex character of an allegedly common destiny. This is exactly where a heterarchical regime is better equipped to manage the existing levels of Mediterranean complexity. The plausibility of this claim to the importance of reflexivity as opposed to co-ordinated hierarchy rests on a systemic perspective, whereby ‘sub-systems do not [necessarily] join together into higher level systems ... nor can they be conceived of as instances of a totality’ [95]. True, some hierarchy of norms may prove necessary, but this should also reflect the praxis of mutualism and respect for the ‘other’. From a positive view of regional heterarchy, the aim is for ‘others’ to be brought into the management structures of the EMP, and for regional diversity to transform itself from a self-referential property of distinct units into an identifiable pluralist order. Whatever the legitimising ethos of the prevailing worldviews, trust-building, transparency, cultural pluralism, symbiotic association, and an open civilisational dialogue are useful tools for revitalising a cross-fertilisation between highly heterogeneous units. The search for a new system-wide legitimacy thus depends on the partners’ capacity to discover a sense of process (and purpose too) based on humanism, pluriformity and social justice.