OP-ED: Former Russian Soldiers Barred from the EU — Paris and Rome Put the Brakes On, but the Message Sent to Moscow Remains Ambiguous

Oil, Cryptocurrencies, Ghost Fleet

The measure targeting former combatants is just one part of a broader and more ambitious package. The 21st sanctions package proposed by the European Commission includes, among other things, an adjustment to the price cap on Russian oil—set at 15% below the average price of Urals crude, which has raised the current cap to $44.10 per barrel. A review scheduled for July could raise it to at least $65, above the previous cap of $60. The goal is to continue reducing Moscow’s energy revenues, which fund its war machine.

Added to this are restrictions targeting banks, cryptocurrency operators, and oil companies that help Russia circumvent existing sanctions. Thirty additional vessels are reportedly being added to the blacklist of Russia’s “ghost fleet”—those oil tankers that transport Russian oil under flags of convenience to evade inspections. Export controls on companies in China, India, Turkey, and Central Asia accused of supplying Russian arms manufacturers are also being considered.

A Package That Is Being Watered Down in Negotiations

The recurring problem with European sanctions packages is that they are gradually watered down under pressure from member states seeking to protect their own specific interests. Hungary has long been the main obstacle—but it is no longer alone. France and Italy oppose the fighter jets, others oppose the oil cap, and still others oppose the trade measures: every significant measure faces opposition from within the EU itself.

The result is a package whose international symbolic impact is often greater than its actual effect on the Russian economy. Russia has learned to adapt to European sanctions, precisely because they are imposed gradually and with sufficient advance notice to allow for adjustments. A European Union that is more cohesive and quicker in its decision-making would be a more effective European Union in the face of Russian aggression.

Twenty-one rounds of sanctions. Twenty-one rounds of negotiations, compromises, and watering down. I do not deny the results—the Russian economy is suffering. But I sometimes wonder what the impact might have been had Europe acted as a united front, without the backroom dealings that weaken every measure.

Allies who offer support… up to a point

Neither France nor Italy opposes supporting Ukraine. Paris has delivered Caesar howitzers, Scalp missiles, and air defense systems. Rome has provided weapons, equipment, and political support in principle. But when it comes to certain specific measures—particularly those affecting relations with Russian society or economic interests—their enthusiasm wanes significantly.

This ambivalence is not without consequences. It sends a signal to Moscow that European unity has its limits, and that certain measures will always be blocked by at least one or two major member states. Putin reads these signals and factors them into his strategic calculations. Every crack in European cohesion provides useful intelligence for the Kremlin.

The Responsibility of the Major EU Countries

France and Italy are two of the European Union’s largest economies. Their influence in negotiations is considerable. When they block or slow down a measure, they do so with consequences—they partly define the limits of what Europe is capable of doing. This responsibility should be accompanied by a greater awareness of the signals they send, both to Kyiv and to Moscow.

There is a matter of consistency to uphold: either we consider former Russian soldiers who fought in Ukraine to be a special category, or we do not. The European Commission’s proposal says yes. Paris and Rome may say yes, but only under certain conditions and with guarantees. This conditional response is politically problematic at a time when Ukraine expects unequivocal solidarity from its allies.

France and Italy have legitimate interests to defend—I do not claim otherwise. But there comes a moment in history when short-term calculations must give way to a long-term vision of what Europe wants to be. That moment is now. And I am not sure they see it.

A Measure That Sets a Legal Precedent in the EU

The ban on entry into the European Union for former combatants of the Russian armed forces who have fought in Ukraine since 2022 sets an important legal precedent. For the first time, the status of combatant in a specific war has become a criterion for exclusion at European borders. This precedent could have implications for the EU’s migration and security policies in other future conflicts.

The measure also raises non-trivial questions regarding its practical implementation. How can authorities verify that a person has fought in Ukraine? Russian military identification databases are not accessible to European authorities. Indirect indicators—such as presence in certain regions of origin, Russian military decorations, or brigade tattoos—may provide clues but do not constitute sufficient legal evidence for a systematic denial of entry. The effective implementation of this measure is therefore more complex than it appears.

French and Italian Resistance: A Political Interpretation

The reluctance of Paris and Rome to fully support this measure reveals specific internal political calculations. In France, a segment of the electorate and the political class remains sensitive to the idea that overly aggressive measures against Russia could hinder a diplomatic resolution. This sensitivity—inherited from a long tradition of East-West dialogue—complicates the adoption of clear-cut positions even when they are morally justified.

In Italy, policy toward Ukraine remains complex in a political landscape where certain governing parties have historically maintained close ties with Moscow. These internal political nuances translate into hesitation at the European level regarding the most symbolically significant measures. This is a democratic reality with which Ukraine must contend—without, however, endorsing the idea that moderation toward aggressors is a tenable position in the long term.

Paris and Rome are hesitating. I understand the internal political constraints. But there are times when moral clarity should take precedence over electoral calculations. Denying access to Europe to those who have participated in war crimes is not an aggressive stance—it is consistent with the values the EU claims to defend.

An EU That Takes Action, but With Persistent Reservations

The entry ban on Russian ex-combatants, though imperfect in its implementation, illustrates a fundamental trend: the European Union is painstakingly building a more robust foreign and security policy. This process is slow and often frustrating for the most proactive allies, such as Poland and the Baltic states. But the direction is the right one—toward greater coherence and a greater capacity to act collectively in the face of threats.

The recurring problem is that of unanimity. European foreign policy decisions require the agreement of all twenty-seven member states—a system designed to ensure democratic legitimacy but one that favors the lowest common denominator when it comes to difficult decisions. Institutional reforms allowing for qualified majority voting on certain foreign policy issues have been under discussion for years. The situation in Ukraine has highlighted the urgency of these reforms—without, however, breaking the political deadlock needed to adopt them.

Solidarity as a Response to the Threat

Beyond institutional debates, the measure regarding former Russian combatants sends a political signal that transcends its practical limits. It tells Russia—and the world—that Europe will not remain passive in the face of the conflict’s consequences. It tells Ukraine that its European partners take seriously the demand for accountability for Russian military actions. And it tells the Russian combatants themselves that there are personal consequences for participating in a war of aggression.

This last aspect is perhaps the most important in the long term. If enough Russian soldiers know that they will never again be able to visit Paris, Rome, or Berlin because of their participation in the war in Ukraine, this creates individual pressure on those who might be hesitant to enlist. It is not a sufficient deterrent to stop the war—but in the complex mechanics of systemic pressure, every lever counts.

If a Russian soldier knows that by participating in the war in Ukraine he is closing the door to Europe for life, perhaps he will hesitate for two seconds before signing his enlistment papers. Two seconds that may not change anything. But perhaps they will change something—for someone. That is the logic behind individual sanctions.

The Baltic States and Poland Lead the Way

While Paris and Rome hesitate, the countries most vigorously enforcing the entry ban on former Russian combatants are, unsurprisingly, those most directly exposed to the threat: Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Poland. These countries did not wait for a European directive to tighten their border controls and deny entry to individuals showing signs of having been part of the Russian armed forces that fought in Ukraine.

Their approach is pragmatic and relies on their national intelligence services, which maintain databases of individuals at risk. Without direct access to Russian military records, they use a combination of indicators: travel to identified conflict zones, social circles, presence on Russian social media, tattoos from known brigades, and visible medals. This profiling is imperfect but effective—and it sends a clear signal to those seeking entry that surveillance is real.

The Baltic Model as a Benchmark for the EU

The Baltic countries’ approach could serve as a model for a more coherent European policy. They have developed risk assessment tools tailored to the specific threat posed by Russian ex-combatants: detailed questionnaires, thorough background checks, and coordination with partner intelligence services. These tools are not perfect, but they are more effective than a complete lack of specific measures.

The political will to implement them—even at the risk of diplomatic friction with Moscow—reflects these countries’ strategic culture: having lived under Soviet occupation, they understand instinctively that weakness in the face of the Russian threat does not buy peace—it encourages it. This is a lesson that Western European countries must factor into their own calculations, even if their history has not conditioned them as directly to such vigilance.

The Baltic states are implementing what Paris and Rome are dithering to put in place. Perhaps this is because they know, from personal experience, the cost of inaction in the face of Russia. This direct historical experience is a strategic resource that the EU should heed more carefully.

A shared database and enhanced intelligence sharing

For the entry ban on Russian ex-combatants to be effective across the European Union, it requires an implementation infrastructure that the EU does not yet fully possess. A database shared among member states—fed by contributions from national intelligence services and verified open-source information—would be the central tool for a coherent policy. Without this tool, each member state applies the measure using its own data—which creates gaps in coverage.

Strengthening intelligence sharing within the EU regarding Russian combatants in Ukraine is a broader project than the mere issue of entry into the territory. It also concerns the detection of espionage networks, the identification of high-risk individuals within Russian diaspora communities, and the monitoring of Russian attempts to influence European political processes. The measure regarding former combatants serves as a political gateway to broader European intelligence cooperation.

The Human Rights Dimension: Avoiding Collective Discrimination

Any border control policy based on membership in a group—even a group as specific as veterans of a war of aggression—must be accompanied by safeguards against collective discrimination. Not all Russian citizens are combatants. Not all former Russian military personnel participated in operations in Ukraine. Any implementation of this measure must rigorously distinguish the targeted individuals from the Russian population as a whole.

This distinction is not only a legal requirement under human rights law—it is also a political necessity. A policy perceived as anti-Russian collective discrimination would play into Moscow’s propaganda, which seeks to portray the West as hostile to all Russians. The goal is to target precisely those who have participated in illegal acts—not to collectively punish an entire nationality. This precision is as essential as it is difficult to maintain in practice.

Target the combatants, not the Russians. That is the line we must uphold—ethically and politically. A measure that veers toward collective discrimination does not defend European values. It compromises them. And in this war, which is also a war of values, this distinction is fundamental.

What This Hesitation Tells Ukraine

For Ukraine, which is watching these European negotiations from the battlefield, the message is clear: a united Europe remains an unfinished project. We can count on certain allies—the Baltic states, Poland, and the Nordic countries—for unconditional solidarity. Other partners remain in their comfort zones, supporting Ukraine in words but faltering as soon as the measures come at a cost—even a political one.

This hesitation is not fatal. Ukraine will survive this latest delay in the 21st sanctions package. But the delays are piling up. Every delay, every watered-down compromise, every measure abandoned under pressure from Paris or Rome is a lesson Kyiv learns about the long-term reliability of its allies. And these lessons influence Ukrainian diplomatic strategies as peace negotiations loom on the horizon.

The measure will eventually pass—but at what cost?

The history of European sanctions packages teaches us that most measures are eventually adopted, even if belatedly and in a watered-down form. The ban on Russian ex-combatants will likely follow the same path: gradual adoption, with national implementation clauses vague enough to satisfy Paris and Rome. It’s better than nothing. But it’s not as good as the situation demands.

Europe can do better. It has the institutions, the legal tools, and the economic power to exert much stronger pressure on Putin’s Russia. What it sometimes lacks is consistent political will. And that will—in the face of the greatest act of aggression on European soil since World War II—should not be optional.

An imperfect Europe, hesitant on the details, but moving in the right direction. This entry ban on Russian ex-combatants isn’t revolutionary. But it’s real. And in the language of European diplomacy, “real and imperfect” is always better than “perfect and nonexistent.”

By Maxime Marquette, columnist