Could the Robert Fico shooting lead to a wider conflict in Europe?

What was clearly an attempt to assassinate the Slovak prime minister has prompted myriad theories as to why, and what the repercussions might be. And with no reliable information so far about any motive for the attack – the Slovak authorities described the accused gunman as a “lone wolf” who “did not belong to any political groups” – abundant space has been left for speculation to flourish.

Are we looking at an individual seeking to settle a personal grievance, that would cause few ripples beyond this corner of Eastern Europe? Or, as some of the more ambitious flights of fancy would have it, at an act akin to the shooting of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, which is credited with setting off the First World War? Or indeed something in between?

The details that have emerged so far would allow for any or all of the above. Robert Fico, who became Slovakia’s prime minister for the third time after his party gained the most votes in last autumn’s general election, is on record as saying that he feared an attack. He is a controversial figure in many respects.

He has been part of Slovakia’s political landscape since before Czechoslovakia’s “velvet divorce”, and even before the collapse of communism across Eastern and central Europe. From a one-time member of the Communist Party to the right-ish populist he is seen as today, he has traversed an even more tortuous political path than many of his generation – those now reaching 60 – bringing characteristically left-wing (socialist) and right-wing (nationalist) traits together in varying combinations, spiked with periodic whiffs of scandal, and moving in and out of power.

The distinguishing elements of his platform in the run-up to last September’s election were pledges not to join a coordinated EU migration policy – more bluntly, to admit no Muslims as migrants or refugees – and to halt military aid to Ukraine. Behind his Ukraine policy was his own, and to an extent Slovak voters’, greater sympathy for Russia than prevails in many neighbouring countries, and a simmering dispute about the treatment of a small Slovak minority in Ukraine.

In both respects, Slovakia under Fico has more in common with Hungary under prime minister Viktor Orban than it does with many other EU countries, particularly those to the north and the east. But it would be wrong to describe either Fico or Slovakia as bosom buddies of either Orban or Vladimir Putin. Relations are more complicated than this.

For all that many Western critics use the term “populist” of Fico in a negative sense, this is more complicated, too. For all the West’s condemnation of Fico as a “populist”, his policies as prime minister have been constrained by the limitations of coalition government. Although his Smer (Direction – Social Democrat) party topped the poll, it gained only 23 per cent of the vote, and he now governs with two other parties, one socialist, one nationalist.

So while Slovakia has indeed stopped all military aid to Ukraine, and declined to join a Czech-led group of countries raising funds to buy ammunition for Ukraine on the international market, in many other respects, Fico must defer to his coalition partners. More often than not, Slovakia complies with decisions made by the EU. It has nothing like the “awkward squad” record vis-a-vis Brussels that Hungary, or at times Poland, has had.

After the attempt on Fico’s life on Wednesday, there were those who suggested that he was being punished for pursuing pro-Moscow policies, and for his hostility to the Ukraine war. One conclusion was that the would-be killer was aligned with, or acting on behalf of, Ukrainian or wider Western interests. What little is known of the accused gunman, however, hardly chimes with that. He is named as Juraj Cintula; he is 71, and has been a poet and political activist, with – at one time, at least – a pacifist bent. When did he cross over from pacifist to assassin, if indeed he did?

Even less plausible, however, would seem to be other vague theories washing around blaming Russia. Why would Russia want to silence one of the few voices in the EU calling for military aid to Ukraine to end? At which point it must be asked whether the bigger picture is even relevant. Is this perhaps just the result of a dispute home-grown in Slovakia, a six-million strong country which combines elements of Austro-Hungary and the Balkans?

Fico’s return as prime minister drew opposition from the start. But his government’s current plans to reorganise public broadcasting have drawn ire from the liberal end of the political spectrum, and street protests against what are seen as measures that could curtail media independence. The protests were suspended after the shooting, which suggests that the prime minister’s absence will not be exploited by the opposition for party political purposes.

One aspect of the attempt on the Slovak prime minister’s life could warrant wider concern, however. The shooting took place less than three weeks before elections for the EU parliament where, despite the best efforts of EU leaders, people commonly vote on domestic, rather than EU-wide, issues. Migration and the cost of the war in Ukraine are forecast to fuel the far-right or populist vote in several countries, including France, Germany, Austria and the Netherlands.

In practice, fears of a right-wing surge have in the past proved exaggerated, if not completely unfounded, and may do so again. But political tensions are rising ahead of the elections, and the potential for the EU vote to upset the delicate political equilibrium in some countries – including Germany, for instance – poses risks that could transcend national boundaries. The propensity for the Ukraine war to spread presents another, perhaps even greater cross-border threat. This is where the possible parallels between Fico and Franz Ferdinand could come in.

That Fico is prime minister of a constitutional government, with a deputy and a government machine behind him, however, restricts the parallels, as does the very fact of the European Union, where national borders – which were already dissolving in 1914 – are now largely unchallenged. It might also be observed that the wider meaning predicted for some recent political killings has not actually transpired.

The fallout from the 2002 murder of far-right politician Pim Fortuyn in the Netherlands largely remained in the Netherlands; as did the political reverberations of the murder of Jo Cox on the eve of the UK’s EU referendum. The same could be said of the fatal stabbing of the liberal mayor of Gdansk, Paweł Adamowicz, in 2019. For all their horror, these crimes had few, if any, lasting political reverberations beyond their national borders.

If, as the Slovak authorities said on the day after the attack on Fico, his would-be assassin was a “lone wolf” – albeit one with an as yet undefined political agenda – the probability is that this attempt on the Slovak PM’s life will remain a Slovak atrocity.

For the sake of orderly elections in the EU and no further encroachment of war into Europe, that, at least, must be the hope.