INVESTIGATION: France and Italy block entry ban for former Russian soldiers

The 21st EU sanctions package and its Lebanese knot

On June 25, 2026, as the Council of the European Union had just adopted the decision to extend economic sanctions against Russia from 6 to 12 months for the first time since 2022, discussions on the 21st sanctions package were hitting an unexpected obstacle. The package's flagship proposal would ban former Russian combatants who participated in the war against Ukraine from entering EU territory. The logic is airtight: men who participated in a war of aggression against a European state should not be free to walk the streets of Paris, Rome, or Athens. The idea commands consensus in Northern and Eastern Europe. But two countries oppose it: France and Italy.

According to Bloomberg and Euronews, citing multiple diplomatic sources, Paris and Rome are expressing "legal and technical reservations" about the entry ban proposal. But behind that diplomatically polished language lie economic and political realities far less noble than concern for legal consistency. These two countries alone receive the largest number of Russian tourists in Europe — and they have no immediate interest in seeing that revenue stream cut off further.

Russian tourism figures: an economic interest hard to ignore

In 2025, France issued nearly 180,000 visas to Russian nationals, and Italy approximately 160,000. Spain and Greece round out the list of countries most generous with Russian visas. By comparison, Poland and the Baltic states have been issuing almost none since 2022. This massive disparity creates what Eastern and Northern European countries call "visa shopping": Russian nationals obtain their visas in the most accommodating countries and then travel freely throughout the Schengen zone, which has no internal border controls.

In total, more than 470,000 tourist visas were issued to Russian citizens in 2025, despite years of war, sanctions, and efforts to restrict entries. While Russian missiles continued to strike Ukrainian civilians, Russian tourists were sunbathing on French and Italian beaches. This contradiction is what eleven European countries — Sweden, Poland, the Baltic states, Finland, Denmark, the Netherlands, the Czech Republic, Iceland, and Norway — denounced in a letter sent to the European Commission in early June 2026.

There is a moral obscenity in this type of tourism. Not in tourism itself — many ordinary Russians do not support this war. But in France's and Italy's refusal to distinguish between Russian civilians fleeing the regime and former soldiers who fought in Ukraine. These two categories deserve different treatment.

Legal objections: real but contested

The official position of France and Italy is not to reject the idea of a ban on former Russian combatants. It concerns the proposed mechanism. According to diplomatic sources cited by Ukrainska Pravda and RBC-Ukraine, Paris and Rome argue that the ban should fall under visa policy — a power shared between the EU and member states — rather than under sanctions, which are a more coercive foreign policy instrument and harder to target precisely. The argument is technically defensible.

A second argument concerns practicability: the proposal would require each member state to determine for itself who participated in the hostilities and who did not. France and Italy contend that this verification is extremely complex without access to Russian military records, which are naturally unavailable. How does one distinguish a former combatant from an ordinary civilian in a visa application? This is an argument that even some supporters of the ban acknowledge as non-trivial.

What the technical objections conceal

But the technical objections tell only part of the story. According to Euronews, citing three separate diplomatic sources, Paris and Rome fear that the ban on former combatants would "pave the way" to a total ban on all Russian nationals — something they oppose. This concern reveals the true underlying logic: these two countries believe that maintaining contacts between Europeans and ordinary Russian citizens has intrinsic value, that exposing Russians to European life can influence Russian public opinion over the long term. This is an argument with a certain logic — but it applies poorly to former soldiers.

There is also an economic dimension that diplomats do not openly acknowledge. France and Italy are the two EU countries processing the largest number of Russian visa applications. A restrictive policy would strengthen the competitiveness of countries that already refuse Russian visas — like Denmark, the Baltic states, or Finland — freeing them of an administrative burden with no costs. For Paris and Rome, giving up Russian tourism without the other countries doing the same represents a competitive disadvantage. That is the naked truth.

The "influence through contact" argument is intellectually honest in peacetime. In a context of war of aggression, it looks more like a rationalization of economic interests. You do not influence an authoritarian system by selling croissants to its tourists.

Kirill, Alekperov, and the Bulgarian veto

France and Italy are not the only obstacles to the 21st sanctions package. Bulgaria, under its new less-Atlanticist government, is blocking part of the package for very different reasons. Sofia opposes the inclusion of Patriarch Kirill, head of the Russian Orthodox Church, on the list of sanctioned individuals. It also opposes sanctions against Vagit Alekperov, the billionaire founder of Lukoil — a company that owns a major refinery in Bulgaria and represents a significant share of Bulgarian fuel supplies.

Bulgarian President Rumen Radev stated unambiguously: "We will not allow the sanctions package to pass in this form. We have a vote, and we will use it." This is a position that echoes Hungary's tactic under Viktor Orbán — using veto power to protect particular economic interests tied to Russia. It is worth noting that Kirill had already been targeted by a sanctions attempt in 2022, blocked at the time by Hungary. Four years later, it is Bulgaria picking up the torch of Russian ecclesiastical protection within the EU.

The unanimity principle: the Achilles' heel of European sanctions

Adopting European sanctions against Russia requires unanimity among 27 member states. This rule, designed to protect the sovereignty of smaller members, has become the main leverage point that pro-Russian states — or those with Russian economic interests — use to dilute or block sanctions packages. Hungary under Orbán used this mechanism systematically since 2022. Slovakia under Fico followed. Bulgaria now appears ready to join this club.

There are discussions within the EU about the possibility of modifying the unanimity rule for sanctions — allowing qualified majorities rather than full unanimity. But this change would itself require unanimity or treaty revision, which is even harder to achieve. The paradox is total: to reform the rule that allows blockages, you need the agreement of those who have an interest in keeping it.

The unanimity principle for sanctions is a structural vulnerability that Russia actively exploits by cultivating allies within member states. This is not an accident — it is a strategy. The EU needs to reform this mechanism, but to do so, it must first confront the uncomfortable reality that some of its members have interests more aligned with Moscow than with Kyiv.

The Russian visa frontline: a map that speaks

The map of Europe viewed through the lens of Russian visas tells a story of two Europes. To the East and North — Poland, Baltic states, Finland, Sweden, Denmark — Russian tourist visas have barely been issued since the start of the large-scale invasion in 2022. These countries bear the direct costs of geographical proximity to Russia — reinforced border surveillance, Russian espionage, infrastructure sabotage, instrumentalized migrant flows — and reject the schizophrenia of a policy that sanctions Russia on one side while welcoming its tourists on the other.

To the West and South — France, Italy, Spain, Greece — the economic logic of tourism still prevails. These countries have no border with Russia. They do not face the same direct threats. And they have tourist industries that partly depend on wealthy Russian visitors. The letter from eleven European countries in early June 2026 explicitly named this disparity: frontier countries "bear all the costs and all the risks, while others profit from Russian tourism."

The European Commission: between promises and delays

The European Commission responded to the demands of the eleven signatory countries on June 5, 2026 with a promise of "targeted restrictive measures" on visas. But spokesperson Markus Lammert clarified that these measures would come as part of the revision of the Visa Code — scheduled for early 2027 — and would therefore not apply for the summer season of 2026. In other words: a promise for next year, while French and Italian beaches remain accessible to Russian tourists this summer.

The Commission's logic is understandable: any change to European visa law requires a rigorous legislative process and time. But for Eastern European countries that carry a disproportionate share of the confrontation with Russia, this slowness is experienced as a betrayal. The cohesion of the EU is being tested not only by external Russian pressure, but by the internal fragmentation of its economic interests.

The Commission proposes a 2027 reform while Russian tourists visit European beaches in the summer of 2026. I understand the institutional constraints — laws do not change overnight. But there is something deeply cynical about that timeline, viewed from Kyiv or Tallinn.

The tangible security risk

Beyond the economic and political arguments, supporters of the ban raise a concrete security argument. Former Russian combatants on European soil represent a real and documented security risk. European intelligence services have recorded an increase in sabotage acts attributed to Russian networks on European soil — warehouse fires, attempted attacks on public figures, disinformation operations. Individuals with a Russian military background are potential recruits for these networks.

Estonia, a pioneer in this area, is pushing other member states to establish blacklists of Russian veterans and ban their entry into the Schengen zone. The proposal in the 21st sanctions package — which delegates to each member state the responsibility of determining who participated in the hostilities — may be imperfect. But the argument that implementation difficulty justifies complete inaction is equally indefensible. Imperfect technical solutions are better than no solution at all when facing a documented threat.

A precedent that matters

The question of the entry of Russian nationals into the Schengen zone has a symbolic dimension that goes beyond the practical question of tourism. If the EU cannot ban entry to men who bore arms against a European partner state, it sends a message of weakness that Moscow will not fail to exploit. The right to free movement in the Schengen zone is a European value — but this value cannot apply to individuals who actively contributed to the destruction of Ukraine. The moral coherence of the Union is at stake.

The final adoption of the 21st sanctions package — possibly in amended form — is playing out in the coming weeks. Negotiations between the ambassadors of the 27 member states will continue to seek a compromise. But that compromise risks resembling all previous European compromises on the Russian visa question: hollow enough to satisfy Paris and Rome, not strong enough to satisfy Warsaw and Tallinn.

The Europe of collective defense is the one of Poland and the Baltics. The Europe of economic pragmatism with Moscow is the one of France and Italy. These two Europes can coexist on ordinary issues. On Russia and Ukraine, they create a fracture that weakens the Union's coherence against its most dangerous adversary.

What the 21st package actually contains

The European Union's 21st sanctions package against Russia, adopted in June 2026, is the most extensive since the start of the war. It includes new restrictions on exports of dual-use goods — technologies that could have military applications — targeting in particular companies in third countries that serve as platforms for circumventing controls on electronic components. The list of sanctioned entities has grown considerably, including Chinese, Emirati, and Turkish companies involved in documented circumvention networks.

The package also integrates measures on former Russian combatants and establishes a framework for funding Ukraine's reconstruction from the revenues of frozen Russian assets. This last point is particularly significant: it transforms Russian assets blocked in Europe — estimated at approximately €300 billion for the Russian central bank's reserves alone — into a funding source for Ukrainian needs, without formally confiscating these assets.

Behind-the-scenes negotiations: compromises and concessions

The adoption of the 21st package required several weeks of intense negotiations among the 27 member states. The unanimity rule on EU foreign policy gives each country a potential veto. Bulgaria obtained exemptions on certain trade restrictions with Russia by invoking transitional economic constraints. France and Italy softened restrictions on certain consumer goods, preserving commercial interests in their luxury and agri-food sectors.

These compromises are frustrating for proponents of maximum sanctions — primarily the Baltic states, Poland, and other Central and Eastern European member states with Russia on their doorstep. But they are politically inevitable in a decision-making system requiring unanimity. The real question is whether these exemptions create exploitable loopholes that significantly reduce the package's impact — and that assessment can only be made in practice.

I look at the sanctions package negotiations and think of the metaphor of a net that lets fish through. Every national exemption, every compromise on this or that category of goods, creates a wider mesh in the net. Russia is very effective at finding and exploiting these meshes. The consistency of sanctions requires a European political discipline that national interests constantly put to the test.

Circumvention networks: mapping a systemic problem

The circumvention of Russian sanctions has become an organized global industry. Shell companies registered in dozens of countries — UAE, Turkey, Kazakhstan, Armenia, Georgia, China — serve as intermediaries to channel toward Russia electronic components, CNC machines, integrated circuits, and other dual-use goods. These sanctions-circumventing supply chains have been documented by organizations like the CSIS, Kyiv School of Economics, and investigative journalists.

Circumvention effectiveness varies by product category. For high-end semiconductors and advanced manufacturing equipment, American and European export controls are relatively effective — global manufacturers depend on Western markets and cannot afford to ignore sanctions. For more standard components — less advanced chips, mechanical equipment, vehicles — non-Western alternatives are more numerous and control is harder.

Enforcement tools: secondary sanctions and pressure on third parties

The Western response to the circumvention problem increasingly relies on secondary sanctions — penalizing entities in third countries that help Russia circumvent primary sanctions. The United States has the most developed tradition in this area: the threat of cutting foreign entities from the American financial system is a considerable lever. The European Union is less advanced in this domain, but the 21st package marks a step in that direction by explicitly targeting non-European entities.

Diplomatic pressure on facilitating states is the other tool. Direct conversations with Ankara, Abu Dhabi, and Astana have produced partial results — these governments have no interest in being officially designated as sanctions facilitators. But they also have real economic interests in trade with Russia and are not prepared to sacrifice those interests entirely. The result is partial and selective compliance that reduces but does not eliminate circumvention.

Sanctions circumvention reminds me of a fundamental principle: every rule creates incentives to circumvent it. The real measure of a sanctions regime's effectiveness is not the absence of circumvention — impossible to guarantee — but the cost imposed on circumvention. If circumvention is easy, low-risk, and low-cost, sanctions are ineffective. If it is difficult, risky, and costly, they serve their purpose. The ongoing work of sanctions enforcement is precisely about raising those costs.

The achievements: unprecedented cohesion despite tensions

Four years after the start of the large-scale Russian invasion, the balance sheet of European cohesion on sanctions is more positive than many would have predicted in February 2022. Twenty-one packages adopted, progressively tightened export control regimes, collective funding of the Ukrainian war effort through the European Peace Facility and confiscated funds — all of this represents a collective effort without precedent in the history of European foreign policy.

This cohesion has survived considerable pressures: energy crises, recessions, the rise of pro-Russian parties in several member states, government changes in Hungary, Slovakia, and other countries. The fact that the EU maintains a collective position in the face of these pressures testifies to the robustness — imperfect, negotiated, contested, but real — of European governance in foreign policy.

The flaws: Hungary, internal division, and the risk of fatigue

The picture is not entirely positive. Hungary under Orbán has been the most consistent point of resistance, using its veto to negotiate exemptions and delay the adoption of certain packages. Slovakia under Fico has taken positions increasingly aligned with Budapest. Divisions persist between the ardor of Baltic and Polish countries and the caution of some major Western member states.

Over the longer term, the risk of "sanctions fatigue" is real. The economic costs of the sanctions regime — even if far less significant than initially anticipated — accumulate. Political parties campaigning for "normalization" of relations with Russia are gaining ground in several countries. If the war continues without prospect of resolution over the next two or three years, pressure for sanctions easing will intensify. Maintaining European cohesion is a permanent political effort, not an acquired asset.

Four years after February 24, 2022, I remain struck by what Europe has collectively managed to accomplish in response to Russia. It is not perfect. There are shameful compromises, unacceptable exemptions, countries playing both sides. But compared to what pessimists predicted — a divided, paralyzed Europe incapable of acting — the reality is far more encouraging. Europe has learned to behave as a geopolitical actor. Whether that lesson becomes embedded in its institutions is the challenge of the next cycle.

European cohesion on sanctions reminds me that the European Union can act as a geopolitical actor when fundamental interests are at stake. It is slow, compromised, imperfect — but it holds. Four years after February 24, 2022, that is more than many predicted. This is not a victory — it is a resistance. And in contemporary geopolitics, resistance that endures eventually becomes strength.

An investigation that reveals more than a visa question

Behind the seemingly technical question of an entry ban for former Russian combatants, this investigation reveals the deep tensions running through the European Union vis-à-vis Russia. This is not simply a difference of opinion on a diplomatic instrument. It involves divergent economic interests, different perceptions of the Russian threat, and a chronic inability to translate declaratory solidarity into consistent concrete policies.

The 12-month extension of sanctions is progress. Bulgaria's threat to block the 21st package is a step backward. France and Italy's opposition to the ban on former combatants is a moral disgrace dressed in legal argument. The European Union can be strong and coherent in its response to Russia — it has demonstrated this since 2022 on many fronts. But this investigation also reveals the cracks that Moscow is actively exploiting and that Brussels cannot indefinitely mask with compromises.

What Eastern European countries expect from their partners

The countries that share a border with Russia or directly bear the cost of this war — Poland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Finland — expect something simple from their European partners: consistency. Not solidarity speeches followed by policies that contradict that solidarity. Not sanctions ceremonies followed by tourist seasons in which Russian visas continue to be issued in mass. Not declarations on collective security followed by blockages on entry bans for soldiers who fought against a European state. The EU's credibility against its own stated values depends on that consistency.

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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