With EU Ministers set to make a decision tomorrow, Benjamin Tallis argues that there is a liberal case for a Russian visa ban, and the opposition to it reveals a weakness in European democracy

Banning Russian tourists from entering the EU, in light of their country’s brutal war on Ukraine, has become a hot topic in Europe.

A ban has been called for by Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and proposed by Finnish and Estonian Prime Ministers Sanna Marin and Kaja Kallas. The idea has attracted vocal support from EU citizens and commentators outraged that Russians continue to enjoy the privilege of tourism as their countrymen wage war – and commit war crimes – in Ukraine and while their state actively undermines Europeans’ security. The visa ban would be a strong show of European resolve for Ukraine and against Russia. 

Yet, many European liberals have hesitated to support the ban or even actively opposed it on various grounds. Some have argued (wrongly) that EU law doesn’t allow such an action or that it amounts to a form of ‘collective punishment’ that represents a ‘with us or against us’ logic which is anathema to the Union’s identity and liberal values. Others worry that it would close down escape routes for Russians under threat from the Putin regime, unfairly hit the ‘Russian opposition’, or would otherwise have counterproductive effects on EU foreign policy or the advancement of liberal politics in Russia. 

It’s good that these objections have been raised so vociferously as they are indicative of several more general problems with liberal politics in Europe. 

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The Value of Mobility and the Costs of War

Free movement has been at the heart of the EU’s model of integration and its success in transforming seemingly ingrained, even structural conflict between continental powers such as France and Germany into cooperation. Encouraging contact between peoples, as well as states and businesses, helped take the danger out of difference. It allowed Europeans to recognise and pursue their common values and interests, which underpin the EU. This approach, which progressively made travel between EU states easier, culminated in the creation of the Schengen zone which allows people to move without border controls among its members. 

Mobility has also played a crucial role in EU foreign and neighbourhood policy. Not only is the chance to travel to EU states highly desired by its neighbours, but it is also a channel through which the EU has been able to spread and secure its ‘sphere of integration’ by encouraging imitation. The wager has been that people visiting the EU from neighbouring countries will like what they see and then adopt or adapt its standards and practices in their own countries while also becoming more familiar with EU citizens. The Union has further used visa liberalisation (removing the visa requirement) to incentivise its neighbours to make reforms.   

We should not view this issue through the lens of collective national guilt but, rather, that of collective societal responsibility.

So, given all those positive arguments for openness and enhanced mobility, why ban Russian tourists from the EU? 

Most importantly, to support Ukraine, performatively reinforce our own democracies and send a strong signal of our resolve to the Putin regime. In this instance we needn’t worry about the loss of any positive transformative power as the EU doesn’t have any in Russia – at least not through this channel. 

This type of influence (through imitation, adoption or adaptation) only works when there is a desire for progressive change on the part of those visiting. This worked very well with Ukrainians who have shown their willingness to improve, reform and democratise their country, often by taking inspiration from EU states and in spite of entrenched vested interests. It hasn’t worked with Russians, even though they have consistently been the largest group of Schengen visa recipients (taking one-quarter of total Schengen visas issued in 2021). 

The millions of tourist trips to the EU haven’t slowed the Russian Federation’s slide into ever more aggressive authoritarianism over the last two decades. By allowing these visits, EU states have left themselves in an unfortunate situation whereby they grant one of their greatest privileges (which we deny to so many people around the world) to Russians, who often seem to be laughing in our faces. They rub our noses in the fact that they can afford to travel and shop while not having to worry about upholding democracy, freedom and human rights. Worse, many of their compatriots have been actively working in the cracks in our own systems to undermine those values and standards in EU states. 

We cannot sit idly by and allow the contentment to which we contribute by allowing travel to feed the silent consent that undergirds Putin’s aggressive empire.  Doing so would make us look weak and would just encourage Putin who only respects strength. It would also give the impression we are not fully committed to Ukraine as we are still happy to take Russian tourists’ cash. 

Giving that up money will look like a cost to some – but we shouldn’t see it that way. As with imposing sanctions, bearing that cost in defence of our principles would make us look stronger, not weaker. Like the military and humanitarian aid we provide, it would actually be an investment, not only in a Ukrainian victory but also in the resilience and vibrancy of our own democracies. 

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Liberally Banning Russians

Demonstrating our resolve in standing up for Ukraine and against Russia is the primary reason for EU states to prohibit Russian tourists. 

A visa ban would hurt the ruling elite and their families, which is good. It would also hit opposition figures and some more democratically minded Russians.

The group that would be hit hardest is the urban middle and upper-middle class – those who have the funds to travel to EU countries and do so rather than vacationing in other destinations such as Turkey (for which they need no visa). This group, which does not lack potential political capital should they choose to exercise it, too often seems satisfied with the bargain Putin offers: stay out of politics and you can have a materially nice life – including travel. 

As the histrionic response to the proposed visa ban shows, we can make it harder for this group to forget about the war – and their complicity in it – while shopping in Paris, eyeing the Bruegels in Vienna or sipping cocktails on a Spanish beach. 

Whether this would swell the ranks of the ‘opposition’ is uncertain. The Russian opposition cannot be our main concern in any aspect of our policy on Ukraine, which is not ultimately about them.  We should, however, continue to provide ways out of Russia for those who wish to emigrate, for those in humanitarian need and those under threat of violence or persecution. We should not succumb to the widespread notion that those seeking asylum are best served with tourist visas. Upping member states’ game on approving and processing national, territorially limited humanitarian visas, as well as labour and residence permits is a better option. 

The EU as a whole should also revisit proposals for a special class of Schengen-wide humanitarian visa that it abandoned in 2017. Nor should it be forgotten that Russians can travel visa-free to more than fifty countries worldwide – EU states are not their only option in case of urgent need. 

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Collective Responsibility 

Some EU commentators and experts have complained that this all smacks of collective punishment of Russians for their regime’s actions. But it should be remembered, as Kaja Kallas noted, that a visa to visit the EU is a privilege, not a right.

Withdrawal of a privilege is not the same as ‘collective punishment’ (normally used to describe events such as the Nazi massacre of the Czech village of Lidice).  As Eugene Finkel has argued, we should not view this issue through the lens of collective national guilt but, rather, that of collective societal responsibility. That fits with how we view the crimes of the Third Reich: while the Nazi regime was most directly culpable, German society as a whole was also responsible for facilitating the regime – whether via participation, support, acquiescence or silence. 

This notion of responsibility resonates with Vaclav Havel’s analysis of power and resistance in ‘post-totalitarian’ regimes, such as in 1970s Czechoslovakia.  Havel, long a dissident against the Soviet-imposed Communist regime, noted the difficulties that accrue to those who resist but argued that every acquiescence – and every failure to resist – only strengthened the regime and allowed it to reproduce its power. Conversely, even small shows of dissent ultimately demonstrate the power of those who otherwise see themselves as powerless. 

Those who sought immediate refuge in the EU’s rule book highlight