ANALYSIS: France and Italy put the brakes on Europe: the new crack that delights Putin

A quiet veto on a common-sense measure

The European Union wanted to ban former Russian soldiers who fought in Ukraine from entering its territory. An elementary precaution, some will say — or even a moral duty toward the nations absorbing the bombs dropped by those very soldiers. Except that two founding members of the Union hit the brakes: France and Italy. According to information published on June 25 and 26, 2026 by Bloomberg, Euronews, and Brussels Signal, Paris and Rome resisted the proposal to ban ex-Russian combatants from entering the Schengen area, citing legal and diplomatic concerns.

The timing could not have been worse. This Franco-Italian resistance emerges as NATO prepares to hold its summit, as countries on the Alliance's eastern flank — Poland, the Baltic states, Finland — intensify their demands for security guarantees, and as Vladimir Putin observes with satisfaction the fractures opening in the coalition resisting him. Every Western hesitation is a gift that Moscow pockets.

The 21st wave of sanctions: what passes and what stalls

The 21st EU sanctions package, whose broad outlines were reported by several sources in June 2026, includes a substantial set of measures: targeting energy, finance, cryptocurrencies, fishing, Russia's shadow fleet, and an oil price cap lowered to $44.10 per barrel. This package represents a genuine collective effort — but the Franco-Italian resistance on the question of ex-soldiers reveals the limits of European solidarity when it touches national sovereignties and domestic political calculations.

The ban on ex-combatants entering the EU was nevertheless one of the most emblematic measures of this package — the one sending the clearest signal to Moscow that Europe treats participation in the aggression as an act carrying concrete consequences. Neutralizing it, even partially, weakens the symbolic and practical reach of the entire package.

I understand the legal arguments. I understand the diplomatic complexities. What I do not understand is how one can be the ally of a country being bombed every night and refuse to close the door to those who dropped the bombs. There is a moral hierarchy in all of this that Paris and Rome seem to have lost sight of.

The legal objections: proportionality and fundamental rights

According to diplomatic sources cited by Bloomberg and Euronews, France and Italy raised objections grounded in European law. The main argument concerns proportionality: a blanket ban targeting all ex-combatants, without distinction of rank, role, or level of responsibility, risks being challenged before the Court of Justice of the European Union. The CJEU has, in the past, struck down sanctions measures deemed too broad in their personal scope.

There are also concerns about the treatment of Russian deserters and conscientious objectors — individuals who refused to participate in the war or fled it. A general ban covering all former soldiers would potentially include these people, creating the absurd situation where those who resisted the Putin regime would be punished alongside those who executed its orders.

Domestic political calculations: Meloni, Macron, and their constraints

Behind the legal arguments lie domestic political realities. In Italy, Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni is navigating between her stated support for Ukraine — which she maintains against pro-Eurosceptic factions in her own coalition — and an electoral base partially influenced by pro-Russian currents. Formations like Lega have historically maintained links with Moscow, and too much visibility on anti-Russian measures would strain an already fragile governing coalition.

In France, Emmanuel Macron is juggling with his doctrine of "not humiliating Russia" — a formulation that has earned him considerable criticism in the East but which he defends as necessary to preserve diplomatic channels. His resistance to this measure fits within a broader vision: maintaining the possibility of future dialogue with Moscow, even at the price of apparent inconsistency with his most committed allies on Ukraine.

Macron and his diplomatic channels. Since the beginning, he seems to have called Putin more often than Zelensky. And every time, the result has been the same: additional bombs on Ukrainian cities. At what point does one recognize that diplomacy with a regime like this is not wisdom — it is naivety?

Poland, the Baltic states, Finland: the most exposed, the most furious

Countries sharing a border with Russia or Belarus reacted with barely veiled frustration. Poland, the Baltic states (Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania), and Finland unanimously support the ban on ex-Russian soldiers — and they support it without legal reservations. For these countries, the question is not abstract: ex-Russian combatants have already been identified on their territory, and the threat of infiltration, sabotage, or influence operations is taken seriously by their security services.

Poland notably declared publicly that it considered this measure essential to the Union's collective security. Warsaw argues that Europe cannot treat individuals who participated in the bombing of civilians as ordinary travelers. It is an ethically solid position — and strategically coherent with EU security doctrine, which should, in theory, exclude from its space actors representing a documented threat.

The summit as a test of cohesion

This Franco-Italian fracture comes at a particularly sensitive moment for Alliance cohesion. According to The Guardian of June 27, 2026, NATO leaders on the eastern flank harbor deep concerns about American reliability — particularly following the contradictory signals sent by the Trump administration regarding its commitment to Article 5. In this context, European fissures over issues as symbolic as the ban on former Russian soldiers fuel a sense of strategic isolation among the most exposed nations.

The upcoming summit will be the first major test to measure whether NATO can maintain a common line despite these internal tensions. Declarations of unity will be present — but behind the communiqués, the fractures between Western Europe and Eastern Europe over the right response to Russia have never been deeper since 2022.

There is something profoundly unjust about the countries that risk the most — Poland, the Baltic states, Finland — being constantly constrained by those who risk the least. Eastern Europe has understood the Russian threat for decades. The West keeps learning at its own expense, slowly.

An ambitious but incomplete package

The 21st EU sanctions package adopted in June 2026 includes significant measures across several fronts. Extending sanctions to the shadow fleet — those oil tankers transporting Russian oil under flags of convenience to circumvent price caps — represents an important advance. The cap at $44.10 per barrel aims to further drain Moscow's oil revenues, which are already under pressure with Urals crude at $44.3.

Measures targeting cryptocurrencies and certain alternative financial circuits Russia was using to circumvent SWIFT sanctions complete this package. These restrictions target exchange platforms and financial intermediaries that were facilitating the conversion of rubles into untraceable digital assets. On paper, it is an impressive arsenal — but its effectiveness will depend on enforcement by member states, historically variable.

The shadow fleet: a partial victory

Targeting Russia's shadow fleet — estimated at several hundred tankers operating off Western regulators' radars — is potentially one of the most impactful measures in the 21st package. This fleet transports a substantial share of Russian oil exports to Asia, notably to China and India, at prices below market rates but above the Western cap.

By targeting insurers, maritime brokers, and ports facilitating these transactions, the European Union hopes to reduce the operational capacity of this fleet. But actors like China, which has developed its own maritime insurance capabilities to circumvent sanctions, make complete neutralization of this channel difficult. Sanctions work best when they are universal — which they never truly are.

The shadow fleet is the perfect symbol of what sanctions can and cannot do. They force Russia to adapt, to pay more for its own exports — but they do not stop the flows as long as China and India remain buyers. Real pressure on Moscow would run through Beijing. And that is something nobody wants to touch.

The Kremlin's strategic patience rewarded

Since the start of the conflict, the Kremlin's strategy in Europe has always contained two parallel axes: war on the ground and war on European unity. Fueling divisions between EU partners — by funding far-right or far-left parties, manipulating energy prices, exploiting migration debates — is a documented and longstanding Russian tactic.

The Franco-Italian resistance to the entry ban gives them a free diplomatic dividend: the demonstration that even on a measure as fundamentally symbolic as this, Europe cannot speak with one voice. For capitals hesitating to increase pressure on Moscow, this signal is encouraging. For those who might consider joining the Sino-Russian axis against the West, it is further proof that Western cohesion is a facade.

The signal sent to Zelensky

For Volodymyr Zelensky and Ukraine, this fracture sends a painful message: even after more than four years of total war, two of the largest EU member states are not prepared to take elementary symbolic measures as a sign of solidarity. Ukraine has long sought this ban — not as a substitute for military aid, but as a signal that Europe treats participation in the aggression as an imprescriptible act.

Failing to obtain that signal — at the very moment when Ukraine is multiplying deep strikes and maintaining considerable military pressure with its own resources — fuels a sense of partial abandonment that Kyiv struggles not to express. This is not diplomacy — it is solidarity accounting. And the ledger is not balanced.

Zelensky is alone in this war in a way that no one in the West truly wants to admit. His allies help him — yes — but always with conditions, delays, exceptions. Meanwhile, his people are dying. I am not saying this to induce guilt. I am saying it so that we measure exactly what our ambivalence costs.

From Minsk to today: the Western double-speak

The Franco-Italian resistance of June 2026 is not an anomaly — it is part of a long history of European divisions over Russia. The Minsk agreements, negotiated in 2014 and 2015 primarily by France and Germany, already illustrated Western Europe's tendency to prefer negotiation over pressure. These agreements gave Moscow time to consolidate its positions in the Donbas while maintaining the appearance of a diplomatic process.

Since the start of the total war in 2022, the fracture has evolved but not disappeared. Countries in Eastern Europe have radicalized their support for Ukraine and their demands for maximum sanctions. Western Europe — particularly France, Germany, Italy, and to a lesser extent Hungary — has maintained a more nuanced approach, oscillating between expressed solidarity and practical reservations.

Hungary: the extreme case that reveals the trend

The Hungarian case of Viktor Orbán is the most caricatural expression of this tendency. Budapest regularly blocks European decisions on sanctions or aid to Ukraine, demands exemptions, and maintains openly cordial relations with Moscow. France and Italy are not at that point — but their resistance on the question of ex-soldiers shows that the line separating "firm ally" from "conditional ally" is thinner than one would wish.

The European Union structurally suffers from the requirement for unanimity on foreign policy and security questions. This rule, designed to protect national sovereignties, has become a weapon in the hands of those seeking to slow collective responses. An institutional reform allowing qualified majority decisions on sanctions would move Europe forward — but it runs into precisely the reluctance of countries like France and Italy that cling to their right of veto.

Orbán is despised in European capitals — and yet, in practice, his blocking strategy is imitated, more gently, by supposedly far more reliable allies. The difference between him and certain other European leaders is just the form. At the core, it is the same hesitation toward Moscow.

When European sanctions carefully avoid the elephant in the room

One observation stands out when reading the 21st sanctions package: it does not target China. And yet, Beijing remains Moscow's primary economic partner, the main buyer of Russian oil below the cap, and the supplier of electronic components fueling the Russian war machine through indirect channels. European sanctions deliberately sidestep this issue because the economic consequences of confronting China would be far too heavy for European economies.

This reality says everything about the limits of sanctions as a pressure tool. They work at the margins — reducing Russian revenues, forcing costly adaptations — but they cannot produce maximum effect as long as the world's second largest economy continues to trade freely with Russia. The West is caught between its values and its economic interests. And for now, interests often win out.

The paradox of maximum pressure without global consensus

Maximum sanctions without the participation of China, India, and several emerging economies that continue to buy Russian oil cannot reach their full potential. The West knows this. Moscow knows it. And Beijing makes it a deliberate policy — maintaining its commercial relations with Russia while preserving access to Western markets. It is an assumed economic double game that Europe struggles to counter without touching the foundations of its global trade.

The real answer to this impasse would require aggressive economic diplomacy that poses clear choices to Beijing: either Western markets, or economic support for a sanctioned regime. This is a conversation that neither Washington nor Brussels has yet had the courage to pursue to its logical conclusion.

We sanction Russia and trade with China, which sanctions our sanctions. It takes a certain creativity to call that a coherent policy. This is not a reproach — the constraints are real. But at least, let's be honest about the limits of what we are doing.

The emergence of a pro-Ukraine hard core

Faced with repeated blockages from certain members, the idea of a pro-Ukraine European hard core is gaining traction. Poland, the Baltic states, Finland, Sweden, the Netherlands, and the Czech Republic form a coherent group calling for maximum sanctions, unrestricted military aid, and Ukraine's rapid integration into European and Atlantic structures. These countries would be willing to go further than the current consensus if institutional rules permitted it.

The emergence of this hard core creates indirect pressure on Paris and Rome — but it also risks institutionalizing divisions rather than resolving them. A two-speed Europe on security, where some members have stronger commitments toward Ukraine than others, would weaken NATO cohesion and offer Russia exactly the kind of divisions it seeks to exploit.

The risk of an increasingly irrelevant Europe

If Europe continues to drag its feet on measures as fundamental as the ban on ex-Russian combatants, it risks losing its relevance as a security actor in the eyes of its most exposed members. Countries like Poland and the Baltic states are already strengthening their bilateral security ties with the United States and the United Kingdom, precisely because they do not fully trust the EU's capacity to protect them. This trend, if it accelerates, permanently weakens the European common defense project.

The European Union has accomplished remarkable things since 2022: mobilizing financial aid for Ukraine, coordinating sanctions, expanding NATO. But every time it hesitates on symbolic measures out of fear of internal dissent, it reminds its most exposed members that it is a cooperation framework, not a defense alliance. And in Putin's Russia, that distinction can be very costly.

I believe in Europe. I believe in this project. But a Europe that cannot ban soldiers who participated in the aggression of a candidate member country from entering its territory is a Europe that needs to look in the mirror and ask what it is truly defending.

European unity as an existential issue

The Franco-Italian resistance to the ban on former Russian soldiers is not a major crisis in itself. But it is symptomatic of a deep trend: Europe's difficulty in maintaining a coherent line against a Russia that is playing for time, playing on divisions, playing on fatigue. Every internal compromise Europe grants its most hesitant members is read in Moscow as confirmation that patience pays.

The question is not whether France and Italy are good allies — they have proven so on other fronts. The question is whether Europe can afford, at this stage of the conflict, to let domestic political considerations override collective security decisions. The answer should be no. And the determination of a few capitals to maintain room for maneuver with Moscow should concern observers far beyond Warsaw and Tallinn.

What Ukraine is watching from Kyiv

In Kyiv, these debates are watched with a lucidity that geographic distance transforms into absolute clarity. Ukraine does not have the luxury of diplomatic nuance, CJEU proportionality concerns, or the electoral calculations of fragile coalitions. It has soldiers dying, cities burning, and allies who are sometimes not as firm as they claim. The Franco-Italian fracture of June 2026 will not break the coalition supporting Ukraine — but it reveals its seams, and those seams, Putin knows by heart.

History will judge this period. Not the speeches from summits, not the communiqués of unity — but the concrete decisions, the measures adopted or refused, the moments when Europe chose political comfort over moral coherence. I would rather be among those who were too firm than among those who were too cautious.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

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