Russian brutality has boosted Nato and led countries to abandon neutrality – and that’s a very bad move

Much has been made by Ukraine’s Western allies of the perverse effects of Russia’s invasion – chief among them the boost given to Nato. While a major objective for Russia was to curb some of the consequences of Nato enlargement and to prevent Ukraine joining the Western alliance, the actual effect has been the opposite.

Not only is Ukraine even more set on Nato membership than it was before, but the alliance itself is, to all appearances, more cohesive. Both these developments, however, pale into insignificance beside the decisions of Finland and Sweden to abandon decades of neutrality in order to become fully paid-up Nato members.

Finland has already been fast-tracked into the alliance. Sweden’s application is being stalled by Turkey, which is trying to extract concessions from Stockholm on Kurdish exiles, but it will surely be cleared to join before long.

As has been repeatedly drummed home to Russia: by invading Ukraine, it has effectively gained “more” Nato, not less. Its earlier claims of being “encircled” – often parried by Nato officials as an exaggeration – now look more justified, with Finland’s accession more than doubling Russia’s direct border with Nato countries to more than 1,500 miles, and Ukraine’s value to Russia as a buffer now negligible.

But the accession of Finland and – in time, doubtless – Sweden to Nato has sparked a secondary effect that may have been less anticipated and could have longer-term repercussions for the future of Europe and beyond. It has called into question the determination of at least two other formally neutral European countries – Austria and Ireland – to preserve their neutrality, opening a tentative debate, at least in Ireland, about the pros and cons of coming off the security fence. Further reducing the number of neutral states in Europe would, it seems to me, be a very bad idea, for a host of reasons.

When Finland and Sweden announced they were seeking Nato membership in the light of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, this left Europe with three militarily neutral EU countries – Austria, Ireland and Malta – and famously neutral Switzerland outside the EU. EU-member Cyprus is officially non-aligned, although its status is more ambiguous, given the large British bases on the island.

It might also be worth noting that the decisions of Finland and Sweden were met with less indignation on the part of Russia than either country, or Nato, probably expected or hoped. I imagine this was at least partly because Russia regarded both countries as gravitating increasingly towards the Western camp, and tended to assume that, if either were attacked, Nato members – either individually, or as an alliance – would rush to their defence.

In other words, Russia regarded them in recent years as benefiting de facto from Western security assurances, even if they did not actually enjoy such guarantees in law. With Norway and Denmark long-standing and enthusiastic alliance members, and the Baltic states added in 2004, the formal change in the status of Finland and Sweden merely matched what Russia saw as the reality on the ground. There was no point in kicking up much more than a formal fuss.

Nor was Moscow wrong in its judgement. If Nato members signed up to the defence of Ukraine – as they did in 2022, once Kyiv made clear that it would fight – they would surely have joined in the defence of Finland and Sweden in the event of a Russian attack. The actual effect of their change in status on Russian security was thus negligible.

For others to follow, however, would be a lot more problematical, in security and other terms. This is because a state’s decision to be neutral may be less of a national choice, than a solution to a regional, or international, problem.

For all the criticism of what became known as “Finlandisation”, neutrality is what made it possible for Finland – and Austria, too – to lay Soviet and Western fears to rest and end the post-World War Two occupation of their territory. Something similar could apply to Ireland, with neutrality enshrined in the Anglo-Irish Treaty that established Ireland as an independent state in 1922.

The point is that neutrality does not just serve the interests of the country concerned. In helping to spare it the costs, and experience, of war, neutrality may also reassure neighbours that they will not wake up one day to find an armed enemy or a foreign base next door.

This is also the model that Russia – which tends to like historical precedent – eyed for Ukraine and remains a Russian condition for any peace. It was also a model that Kyiv accepted, from independence in 1991 as the Soviet Union collapsed and reaffirmed in its 2010 constitution. But this was overturned by Ukraine’s parliament in 2014 after Russia annexed Crimea. From then on, Kyiv set a course towards membership of Nato. A question that might now be asked is whether Ukraine was more or less secure as a neutral country.

Over the years, Austrians have periodically asked a similar question, but they have always come down for neutrality. And the answer would surely be the same if the question were raised again now. For Austria to arm itself and host others’ bases would alter a delicate balance that has prevailed in the middle of Europe, and concern Russia in a way that the end of formal neutrality for Finland and Sweden has not.

The country, to the surprise of some, where the flight of Finland and Sweden from neutrality has so far had most resonance is Ireland. Last week, the – constitutionally hands-off – president, Michael Higgins, accused the government of “playing with fire” for opening a debate about the country’s military neutrality and playing to other people’s agendas in a “dangerous drift” towards Nato. He later apologised for remarks that implied the chair of a government-backed international forum to discuss the issue might have pro-British sympathies.

That a debate has been opened, however, has exposed divisions between those who regard Ireland’s neutrality as a key part of its identity, those who see the country’s security as too lax (at a time when Russia may be threatening underwater cables and pipelines), and those who accuse it of benefiting from Nato protection on the cheap. It remains to be seen where the debate could lead.

It is, on the other hand, all too clear where the loss of the last neutral states in Europe could lead. One result could be an even clearer, even more perilous, division between West and East than existed during the Cold War, as the remaining buffers disappear. With Russia directly abutting some of the most militant Nato states, will anyone really be more secure?

Nor should the usefulness of neutral states be underestimated. They can supply intermediaries and back-channels when dialogue has broken down. They can provide venues for meetings that would otherwise not take place. They host international organisations that require the appearance at least of non-alignment with the big power blocs to do their job. And where the functioning of the UN may be hampered by the veto-wielding Permanent Five Security Council members, neutral states and their capitals can offer a quieter, more discreet, alternative.

Some of the most sensitive diplomacy has been facilitated by neutral states. The Helsinki process was a prelude to the end of the Cold War. Vienna hosted crucial nuclear talks with Iran. Are peace initiatives from now on to become the preserve of Istanbul and even Beijing? If, as might appear, most of Europe and Russia are now speeding towards a two-bloc division, far more risks being lost than gained.