Alain Boinet. For our readers, could you please introduce yourself and your institute?

Pascal Ausseur. Hello, thank you very much for this invitation. I am a retired admiral; I spent 37 years in the navy, half of that time on surface vessels of all sizes and within the naval aviation group responsible for air defense and anti-surface warfare. I was involved in many French military operations both on land and at sea. I then spent the second half of my career in Paris in what are known as political-military roles, that is, serving as the interface between the political and diplomatic spheres, international relations, and the military, notably at the Joint Chiefs of Staff and in the offices of two ministers: I served in the office of Minister Hervé Morin during the Sarkozy presidency and as Chief of the Military Staff to Jean-Yves Le Drian during the Hollande presidency. I then worked at the Directorate General of Armaments, where I was responsible for military industrial exports and industrial cooperation with the Asia-Pacific region, including India and Australia. Finally, I served as Maritime Prefect of the English Channel and the North Sea, that is, as the government’s representative for public action at sea, from Mont-Saint-Michel to the Belgian border.

Since 2018, I have been directing the FMES (Mediterranean Foundation for Strategic Studies), a think tank based in Toulon since 1990 that initially specialized in the Mediterranean region. In 1990, this period was referred to as “the end of history,” meaning the dawn of a harmonious globalization. Decision-makers at the time were convinced that the southern shore of the Mediterranean would very quickly become Europeanized and align with the European Union in all its economic, sociological, political, and other models. This think tank was therefore created by people who worked to try to implement this strategy, which, as we now know, was unfortunately based on assumptions that were not very sound. Today, the FMES has expanded significantly and is adapting to a world in upheaval. It is also changing its name and will be called the “Foundation for the Mastery of Strategic Issues” in a few weeks.

The world has indeed changed and is still changing dramatically. The question is no longer about “Europeanizing” the world but, on the contrary, about living in a world that is “de-Europeanizing,” with very different models, centrifugal forces everywhere, power struggles, countercultures, counter-models, oppositions, and the return of confrontation in all areas. The FMES is working on this and has significantly expanded its geographical scope, which is no longer limited to the Mediterranean but is now global. That is why we decided to change our name. It accurately reflects what is currently happening: strategic issues that are becoming global in scope and increasingly vital not only for our country and Europe, but also for our neighbors and the world at large—and the dynamics are completely different from what we experienced 35 years ago.

 

Alain Boinet. What are the initial lessons you’ve drawn from the conflict between the United States, Israel, and Iran, which began on February 28 of this year?

Pascal Ausseur. In a way, this is a perfect illustration of what I just mentioned. There have been tensions between Israel and its Arab neighbors for decades, and between Israel and Iran since the 1979 Islamic Revolution, which established the first state claiming to represent revolutionary Islam. The establishment of the Islamic Republic of Iran, moreover, marked the beginning of an extremely powerful movement toward a religious revival in the Arab-Muslim world. This movement had deep roots but was accelerated by that revolution. Iran, which was a major ally of Israel during the Shah’s reign, has since become its principal adversary. This tension between Israel and its neighbors is therefore not a recent development. But what has given this war particular significance—and what demonstrates that it is a clear illustration of this new world—is the balance of power among the major powers, which had gradually shifted with the end of the Cold War.

We thought they were behind us in a world that was converging toward the European model, since the United States championed it and had become the leader of the Western world and the great global superpower that ensured the functioning of the multilateral system. This Westernization of the world was supposed to bring about peace, but it ultimately led to rejection and de-Westernization.

The war in Iran is thus a convergence of more or less covert confrontations: between Israel and Iran, but also between regional powers (Turkey, Israel, Iran, and Saudi Arabia) over geopolitical control of the Middle East, and finally between the United States and China in their competition for global leadership. Because we are in a world witnessing the return of great power competition. And it so happens that this tension plays out in the Persian Gulf, since Iran is China’s ally in the Middle East and the region serves as a massive fuel pump powering the world’s manufacturing sector and the energy-hungry China. We can therefore see that there has been a convergence of global tensions between two very large superpowers and local confrontations. At times, all these confrontations resonate with one another, leading to a state of violence we haven’t seen in decades.

Unfortunately, we can see that this kind of violence is occurring in other places as well. Ukraine is another example—slightly different, but one that follows the same logic found everywhere. For us French people, for us Europeans, it is yet another sign that the world has changed and that we must adapt to an environment that is not what we expected—which is why it is intellectually very difficult for us to accept. It is as if our old world were crumbling beneath our feet. This is not the world we expected, the one we had worked toward, the one we had planned; it is not the world that is most favorable to us nor the one that best aligns with our vision. We must therefore adapt, but the first challenge is above all intellectual.

 

Alain Boinet. Some are surprised by the erratic strategy of Donald Trump and the United States, as well as by the apparent lack of foresight regarding the consequences of the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. What do you think? Is this surprising?

Pascal Ausseur. Yes, that’s surprising. In your question, you mention Donald Trump, and you’re right. History is, first and foremost, it’s true, about major forces and trends that transcend individuals, and that’s more or less what I’ve been discussing so far. I’m talking about concentration, then fragmentation and geopolitics—these are the major forces that underpin human activity. But at the same time, history is made by individuals who make a difference. If Putin weren’t Putin, Trump weren’t Trump, Xi Jinping, Netanyahu, Erdogan, or Macron… the individuals in positions of power make a difference through their strength, their capacity to act, their mistakes or their intelligence, their vision or their lack of vision. Trump is therefore obviously a key player and leaves his mark on all these events, particularly through his brutality, his inconsistency, and his haphazard way of expressing himself. There is certainly a Trump factor in all this, but I think it would be a mistake to believe that this is happening because of Trump. I think he is much more a symptom than the cause of what is happening. In fact, for those of us who know a little about international relations, we’ve sensed all of this coming for a long time. This fracturing, this return to a balance of power, this growing tension with China, this disinterest in European affairs: all of this existed before Trump. Things were handled more smoothly, perhaps more covertly, less blatantly and less shockingly, but they were still happening. So that answers the question about Donald Trump’s personality.

Now, there are also people around Trump, involved in planning, including the U.S. military and U.S. diplomats… I’ve known them for decades and know them well. They are very serious, professional people who have access to intelligence and planning resources. As for Hormuz, no one is unaware of its importance or that the Iranians can very easily block it. But I would point out that many countries can disrupt commercial maritime traffic: half of the traffic in the Red Sea was cut off by the Houthis, who aren’t even a state. Tomorrow, the Strait of Malacca could also be blocked fairly easily, even if no one sees it coming. In 2022, the FMES published a 200- to 300-page paper, available on our website, explaining “the territorialization of maritime spaces,” that is, the appropriation of the sea by coastal countries or actors. This concept was entirely new and explains why the Ukrainians were able to win the naval battle in the Black Sea with virtually no navy.

That is why the Houthis have been able to block a large portion of maritime traffic in the Red Sea without a navy, and why the Iranians, if they so choose, can block the Strait of Hormuz even without a navy and with very limited resources. The Strait of Malacca could be blocked the day after tomorrow, and everyone will cry out in alarm, asking, “How could we not have seen that the Strait of Malacca could be blocked?” Yet, of course, it can be blocked just as one could block the Strait of Dover, which feeds the major European port of Rotterdam. This computer through which I am speaking to you, which was probably built in China, arrived on a container ship that was loaded in Rotterdam. Tomorrow, all of this could be blocked. What is interesting, then, is that for human beings as well as for global warming, there are things we know very well but do not want to see. So we prefer to look the other way when everything is going well and things are more or less stable. But we are living in a time of upheaval where many things can happen, and we need to ask ourselves: “What could happen? Why could it happen? What are the stakes? What do I need to do to prepare?”

 

Alain Boinet. What economic and strategic consequences can we already anticipate from this war? How do you view the strategies of Russia and China in this ongoing conflict, which is, of course, not yet over and has not yet revealed all its consequences?

Pascal Ausseur. Economically speaking, there is, of course, the issue of energy. I am part of the generation that experienced the first oil crisis in 1973, and I remember its enormous impact on everyday life. Today, I note that the impact is much less significant. Why? Because since 1973, we have diversified our sources of oil, gas, and energy. Producers are located all over the world. The Americans are now the world’s leading producers and exporters of gas, which was not the case in 1973. On the contrary, they were massive consumers. France also diversified its energy resources after the major oil shocks: nuclear power, of course, but also renewable energy through wind power, etc. The diversification of energy sources means we suffer much less today than in 1973. The impact is therefore less severe but also more widespread, because globalization fosters interdependence. That is the paradox, in fact. We live in a world that is fracturing, one that is increasingly competitive and confrontational, yet at the same time increasingly interconnected. We are in conflict and yet we continue to trade. The Ukrainians were buying Russian gas as recently as last year, even in the midst of the war. We must expect to see missiles, container ships, and cooperation between nations all over the world.

To return to the topic of interdependence, the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz affects us because of this interdependence. Most of the oil, energy, and gas leaving the Persian Gulf was headed for China. Only 10% of our energy supply comes from the Gulf. One might think that 10% isn’t much. But the problem is that it goes to China to manufacture goods we buy, and the cost of which is driven up by these events. So there is an indirect impact, but there is still an impact. The world has become more complex and interdependent, but at the same time, there is greater resilience.

The second lesson is, of course, decarbonization. We are trying to limit carbon and hydrocarbon consumption because of global warming, but also to preserve our resilience and our sovereignty. In other words, we are trying to decarbonize both in response to global warming, but we are also doing so to be less dependent on others.

But we also need to ask ourselves about our dependence on hardware: this computer, for example. Do we know how to make computers in France? We could, of course, but it would be too expensive. So we buy them from China. If one day the Chinese tell us we won’t be getting any more, what will we do? We saw this with Covid: there were no more masks when the Chinese decided to keep them for themselves. We need to ask ourselves what is important to us. We’re going to have to “get back to work,” so to speak, and rebuild our capacity and autonomy in a number of areas we consider vital: energy, medicines, all cutting-edge electronics—everything that gives us access to technology and allows us to live in better conditions.

Another issue is that of agriculture and access to food. These are questions that no one was asking anymore. Today, this is becoming a crucial issue, given that one-third of the world’s fertilizers come from the Persian Gulf. Yet, gas supplies from the Gulf are currently cut off.

Of course, this will have an impact on the spring crops that are currently growing and that will feed everyone starting in the summer and fall. What I’m saying may sound a bit dramatic, but ultimately, our grandparents lived in a world where nothing was taken for granted, where you had to work hard, stand up for yourself, and take into account others who didn’t always agree with you. So we had to engage in trade and politics with different people, to learn about otherness. Our grandparents knew this and lived it very well. We, on the other hand, have forgotten it. Why have we forgotten it? Because, in our eyes, it was so much simpler to live in a world that, we believed, sought to resemble us, to adopt our customs, our principles, and our rules. And then, let’s be honest, it’s been about fifty years since we gradually stopped working so that others could work. We began to consume more and more, in a completely irrational way, while letting others do the producing. We were, in a sense, the recipients of their labor, and that situation is now behind us. And this is a structural shift, because it was unsustainable from an environmental, societal, and geopolitical standpoint.

 

Alain Boinet. Many observers seem surprised by Iran’s resilience in this asymmetric war. Isn’t this situation—all relative, of course—similar to that of the war in Afghanistan? And won’t this war radicalize the Iranian regime and its allies, or even reignite terrorism, as happened in Syria and Iraq with ISIS—which was also the result of foreign intervention?

Pascal Ausseur. When it comes to ISIS, Iraq, and Iran, these are completely different situations. They are not the same countries, nor the same cultures. What do they have in common? On one side, there is the United States—a Western country—and a Muslim, oil-producing country. But Iran and Iraq are very different countries. Iran is a country where the state is extremely powerful. Even though it is a multicultural society, there is an extremely strong national identity, which is not tied to the mullahs’ regime and existed long before it. Iranians are not Arabs, and they assert this. Iran is also the heir to a civilization dating back thousands of years, of which Iranians are extremely proud. If the government were overthrown tomorrow, the country would not fall apart. This is, in fact, one of the reasons for its resilience. Iraq, on the other hand, is an artificial country, with populations that hate one another and which Saddam Hussein kept under his iron fist. When he died, it triggered a civil war from which the country has never recovered. What do these two situations have in common? In both cases, it was the Americans who intervened; but that alone is not enough to make the two situations identical.

Resistance is linked to resilience. Iran, however, has lived under the rule of the mullahs since 1970–79, and in this regard, the comparison with Afghanistan is relevant. The Iranians first endured an extremely deadly war with Iraq, in which the Americans were not involved. Then the Iranian regime established itself as a religious dictatorship, with a very strong ideology of confrontation with the United States, Israel, and the West. Subject to embargoes, its economy could not develop to its full potential, despite a remarkable level of education that would have allowed Iran to be fully integrated into the international economic arena. As a result, the people had to learn to work and live in rustic conditions, which today contributes to this strong resilience.

The same resilience can be found in Afghanistan, albeit in a different context: a population that is undereducated, far more tribal and diverse, with intense rivalries between different ethnic groups, yet driven by a desire to be masters in their own land. Thus, despite twenty years of international funding, education, and considerable military and economic efforts to try to win over this diverse population to the Western model, the Taliban entered Kabul without firing a shot. Because, in the end, the population considered Taliban rule preferable to that of the West. And this does not prevent many Afghans from trying to flee and go to Europe. But overall, it has shown that imposing a Western model on a country like Afghanistan was utopian.

This must therefore call into question a number of claims regarding the universality of our model. It may be sad to say, and it is a blow to the ego for many Europeans and Westerners, but we must accept that our model no longer inspires people. It should be noted that this is a point that is not entirely shared when it comes to Iran, since we know that a significant portion of Iranian youth wishes to embrace the Western model.

These Iranians protested at the risk of their lives. Moreover, in difficult times, when under attack from the enemy, those who “step forward” are often the most radical and committed figures—not the lukewarm or the cautious. In this regard, I therefore fully agree with your analysis, which is that this period is rather favorable to radicalized people. But we must not confuse radicalism with stupidity. Radicals, too, weigh the costs and benefits. They are not raving madmen, and few people actually want to die, even though we often speak of a cult of martyrdom when it comes to Iran. I observe that no one in Iran willingly exposes themselves to bombs. So Iranian leaders are also looking for a way out. They don’t want to be hanged by their own people, who rebelled en masse and were massacred just a few months ago. Nor do they want to die under American bombs. They are therefore seeking a solution that allows them to remain in power and retain economic leverage. There is thus room for negotiation. That is, in fact, why they are negotiating, even though negotiations remain complicated and will certainly be lengthy.

These negotiations will also require a certain amount of tact, and there’s no doubt that Donald Trump’s personality doesn’t exactly lend itself to that. I think many U.S. officials involved in the negotiations believe it would be better if the president tweeted a little less and kept quiet a little more.

 

Alain Boinet. I have a somewhat lengthy question that primarily concerns humanitarian and development actors, some of whom are in Iraq, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, and perhaps one day in Iran. Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam was received on April 21 at the Élysée Palace by French President Emmanuel Macron, at a time when two French UNIFIL soldiers were killed. The equation is complex: disarming Hezbollah, Israel’s occupation of part of Lebanese territory, and restoring Lebanon’s authority and sovereignty. How do we break this deadlock?

Pascal Ausseur. I’m going to tell you something that saddens me and is not easy to say: I don’t think we’ll truly break this deadlock, because it seems to me that poor Lebanon is caught in centrifugal forces beyond its control. The Lebanese state is now a mere shadow of its former self, and foreign actors are at work everywhere. Hezbollah is the most powerful actor in Lebanon, and for decades it has been funded by Iran for the purpose of destabilization, with Israel, of course, as its primary target.

Many French military personnel have worked alongside the Lebanese armed forces, and we have deployed troops on several occasions in an effort to stabilize this region and this country.

Today, I don’t mean to say that this country no longer exists, because Lebanon and its people are still there, and the word “Lebanese” resonates with the people who live there, but we must admit that national cohesion, national identity, and the ability to overcome sectarian divisions—and thus for Lebanese people to feel a genuine sense of solidarity—are very difficult to achieve there; it’s a bit of a “every man for himself” situation.

Unfortunately, in the Middle East, there are two types of countries. Countries that have managed to maintain, often by force, a national identity despite the multiculturalism stemming from millennia of history. These countries, which have strong states capable of implementing a strategy, include Turkey, Iran, Israel, and—in a somewhat different way—Saudi Arabia, since Mohammed bin Salman took power there. It must be acknowledged that he has succeeded, even if the situation remains fragile, in turning this country into a regional power. One might object that these states are not democracies; on the other hand, they are countries “that hold their ground.” These countries are regional actors with a strategy and the capacity to exert influence, defending and advancing their geopolitical interests in the region.

But there are also states in the Middle East where the government is so weak and the population so diverse that there is no longer any national unity.

Lebanon and Syria are among these countries, and it is Syrian President Al-Shara’s ambition to change this situation. He will certainly not do so democratically, but his ambition is to recreate a strong state in a country torn apart by more than a decade of civil war and emerging from a bloody dictatorship. We also think of Iraq, of Jordan, where the government exists but is at the same time extremely weak with a deeply divided population, and finally of Yemen… This region is a veritable cauldron, with powers playing their games there. The word “play” is of course inappropriate, but these powers are engaged in geopolitical power struggles to determine who will establish dominance. Today we see that Turkey is coming out on top and becoming an increasingly significant regional player. On the other side, we have countries that are in disarray, where the state is so weak that they serve as a “playground” for others. We must reflect on this phenomenon, because this type of scenario is gradually taking shape all over the world: the players and the “playgrounds.”

 

Alain Boinet. In this conflict in the Middle East, which is set to reshuffle the deck among the key players, what role can France and the European Union play? And what lessons should we draw from this?

Pascal Ausseur. France and Europe have been caught off guard in this situation. We get the impression that our heads of state and our populations are somewhat stunned. This is the consequence of the intellectual challenge I mentioned earlier. The world we see is not our own; it is not the one we wanted to move toward. Perhaps we bear some responsibility for the emergence of this world. Perhaps we didn’t see these developments coming, or perhaps we didn’t want to see them. We didn’t make the necessary efforts to try to stabilize the old world. It’s too late for regrets. We are now faced with this situation.

For now, Europe has money, and its strategy is to pay. But we can clearly see that money doesn’t solve everything. Look at what happened in Gaza. Europe has been pouring billions of euros into the region for decades, and it’s not enough, because money doesn’t solve all problems. National identity and the Palestinians’ access to recognition are not things that can be bought. Simply pouring billions of euros into the region cannot replace the people’s need for political, geopolitical, and international recognition. Take the Kurds, who are always the “fall guys” in the power struggles of the Middle East. And we could come up with many more comparisons. So Europe still has money, even though we have less and less of it because we’re getting a little poorer every year. The checkbook is merely a tool devoid of strategy; it doesn’t work, and no one is listening to us.

We therefore need a coherent vision that takes into account our strategy and those of others. This is not an abstract vision of the sort: “I’d really like the world to be kind, peaceful…” We must ask ourselves: “What are the stakes? What is important to me? And what am I willing to do to make an effort?” It involves investing money, but also political capital; taking the risk of upsetting states and populations; and accepting the consequences—which may be painful—for our people and our armed forces; these are real efforts. Thus, we cannot have opinions on everything and seek to intervene in the affairs of the entire world without asking ourselves, “What is important to us?” Why was France once a major player in the Middle East? Because France had a strategy back then, an international policy, and had equipped itself with the means to carry out that policy. This means that she had agreed to pay the price for her choices by bearing the financial, military—sometimes even the lives of her soldiers—and political costs.

By always trying to have it both ways—making an effort without actually doing anything, intervening and wanting to exert influence without it costing us anything—people realize that you don’t mean business. This is true for France, but even more so for Europe, because France has always been one of the European countries most interested in our neighborhood in the Middle East and Africa. France has historically been more involved there than others and has made great efforts. But today, we realize that there is no longer a balance between what we want, what we can do, and the effort we are willing to make. Yet the world ahead of us is not necessarily a bleak one.

Of course, I am aware that it will be a much more turbulent, harsh world, with power struggles, and so on. It will not be a “Care Bears” world, but not necessarily a catastrophic one either. If we make the right decisions, and if we are willing to make the necessary efforts and have the courage to implement our policies accordingly—ensuring consistency between what we say, what we do, and what we are willing to take on—we can establish a system that is far more sustainable, stable, and perhaps even peaceful, where people would certainly be in a slightly less comfortable situation but one that is much more sustainable.

I think we might even be much happier there because there is a paradox worth noting: The world we are leaving behind is a world of comfort. Never have the French, Europeans, or even Homo sapiens known such comfort. Neither our parents, our grandparents, nor our great-grandparents—and we can go back even further in history—nor anyone else has ever known this level of comfort. Yet, when we conduct surveys and look at the indicators, we cannot say that the French and Europeans are much happier today than their parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents were. The suicide rate has never been higher; France has become a major consumer of drugs, primarily among the youth. These are not positive indicators of health or well-being. In Europe, we face a catastrophic demographic situation, which suggests that people are not looking to the future.

 

Alain Boinet. During his visit to Paris, the Lebanese prime minister specifically requested €500 million in humanitarian aid for the next six months. At the same time, official development assistance from developed countries is plummeting, not only due to the Trump administration over the past year, but also because of the largest contributors: France, Germany, the United Kingdom, Japan, and 24 out of 36 countries within the OECD’s Development Assistance Committee. Don’t you think that this decline in international aid, in the context of the current geopolitical conflict, will result—beyond the abandonment and suffering of populations—in generating further tensions, population displacements as people flee war, but also poverty—the two often go hand in hand—migration flows that will intensify, the destabilization of these countries and perhaps their neighbors, and even lead to a radicalization of despair among certain populations? And what about Gaza and the West Bank?

Pascal Ausseur. For me, Gaza and the West Bank are first and foremost political problems. When people are in humanitarian distress following a horrific war, a great deal of humanitarian aid is of course needed. But at the root of it, this is primarily a political problem: what place is there for the Palestinian people in the Middle East?

On the issue of development, you are absolutely right, but I would like to offer a slightly more nuanced perspective. First, there is the question of perception. There have always been rich and poor people since the dawn of humanity, but today we have digital devices: even in very poor countries, people know how people in very rich countries live. It’s a recipe for resentment. Even if we were to concede that the food crisis is not yet an absolute emergency, when people in those regions have basic and rudimentary living, working, and health conditions—even below acceptable standards, making their lives very difficult—and when these people, thanks to the internet, realize that there are, for example, dog pedicures in European countries, it creates enormous resentment. We must be aware of this and acknowledge it.

This disparity in wealth between countries is the result of history, development, and choices… But whatever the cause, the point is not to assign blame at the expense of others, but to recognize that this disparity creates tensions in an increasingly interconnected world, where access to information and knowledge is becoming ever more widespread and powerful. Moreover, this tension can be exploited. In a world where geopolitics and power struggles are making a brutal comeback, with states vying for dominance over one another, exploiting the tensions within a population to weaken your adversary may not be very ethical, but it’s fair game. We live in a world where international law and shared, universal morality are crumbling a little more each day. This obviously exacerbates tensions. From this perspective, there is a huge issue regarding how to mitigate the “potential difference” between the two poles of a relatively narrow “capacitor” known as the Mediterranean—with all the ways you’ve mentioned that this tension might manifest, whether through terrorism, violence, migration, or war… and which we cannot afford to ignore.

Then there is development aid. We must still examine its impact over the past several decades. This aid has had many positive effects, but these have never been proportional to the financial investment made. Very often, development aid was associated with the Westernization of the recipients, as a way of telling the affected populations: “We’re giving you money, but in return you must gradually adapt your society so that it becomes more and more European.” We see the limitations of this approach, and it’s actually coming back to haunt us, with people telling us, “We don’t want it and we won’t do it,” or even, “We’ve decided to distance ourselves more and more explicitly from your model.” The way we spend money and manage this development aid needs to be rethought. It made sense in a world that saw itself inevitably converging toward the European model. I’m not saying at all that those in charge of development aid until recently were making mistakes. They were acting in line with the framework we all shared. Today, that framework is structurally obsolete. We will not go back. We will therefore have to rethink regional and social inequalities—in terms of wealth and development between countries—in a world that is diverging. I think we are still very far from that. We have not yet fully drawn out the intellectual “threads” of the reality we are currently experiencing in this area.

 

Alain Boinet. Thank you for these reflections on the absolutely enormous challenges that humanitarian workers have been facing in dozens of countries around the world for a very long time, with crises that become bogged down and last 20, 30, or 40 years, and which can escalate and create zones of lawlessness, abandonment, and suffering, as we see in Haiti, in the Sahel countries, and in Sudan.

Earlier, you mentioned the upcoming changes at the Mediterranean Foundation for Strategic Studies. Before we wrap up, would you like to elaborate a bit—explaining this restructuring, the reasons behind it, and what you hope to achieve? Will you continue to focus on the Mediterranean region and its environment, while also expanding well beyond it?

Pascal Ausseur. Yes. The FMES is based in Toulon. We’ve been on the shores of the Mediterranean for 36 years now. So, of course, we speak from where we are. I believe the coming period marks a return to geography. We had forgotten geography in a globalized world: the world was flat. An American journalist, Thomas Friedman, published a book titled “The World Is Flat” in the 1990s, which was a huge hit, arguing that in a globalized world, there are no longer any borders, mountains, or seas… There is now only one world in which everyone does business with one another indiscriminately, and we ourselves thus become interchangeable: the problem of identity no longer exists, the problem of nationality no longer exists, states no longer exist. Today, the world is no longer flat. It is the return of geography.

At the FMES, our perspective is therefore Mediterranean. But the Mediterranean is a focal point for new rules of the game and new structural forces that are at work and affecting the entire world. There are 8 billion of us. When I was born, there were 3 billion. In the span of a single human lifetime, we have thus gone from 3 to 8 billion. Obviously, the world is not the same. This fragmentation of the world is a structural reality that will shape the entire 21st century and perhaps even beyond. We are living through the end of a parenthesis that began at the start of the industrial era, 200 years ago. We must realize, however, that we are in the midst of a complete transformation of the world.

What interests the FMES is analyzing all of this across political, geopolitical, economic, financial, and military spheres, because it also marks the return of violence that has become completely democratized. This is, in fact, partly our doing, because we have exported and disseminated these technologies throughout the world, in a world where it wasn’t considered a major issue since it was assumed that trade would automatically bring about peace.

But we can clearly see what is happening. This resurgence of violence is also reminding us of a word we had completely forgotten: vulnerability. The French are vulnerable, Europeans are vulnerable—everyone is vulnerable and capable of inflicting great harm on others. The Houthis, who aren’t even a state, are capable of inflicting considerable damage on countries far wealthier than themselves and on their populations. This has an impact on the livelihoods of billions of people. Let’s not believe that we’re on the moon, far removed from all this, and that we can view it as a laboratory where we’re mere outside observers. We’re right in the middle of this cauldron, and we’re perceived by a very large portion of the global population as wealthy, sated, and idle. These are the words Xi Jinping used a few years ago when speaking about Europeans. From this perspective, we do have a bit of a “scapegoat” image. People will quite easily reach a global consensus that if anyone has to lose, it will be the Europeans. It’s not very pleasant, but what does that mean? It means there is an intellectual clash. We must first understand what is happening.

When the world was caught up in a kind of mechanical race toward growth, the Europeanization of customs, peace, and the economy, we could afford not to think, just watch movies on TV and stop reflecting. When the world grows harsher, one must be intelligent. Marc Bloch, who will soon be enshrined in the Panthéon, who was a great historian of the interwar period and who was executed by the Germans after the defeat of June 1940, wrote a book just before his death titled “The Strange Defeat.” Why did France, which was a major European power, lose in a single month—when no one could have imagined it—to Germany, which was not as powerful in comparison? If you read this absolutely remarkable book, the central idea is that we lost the war because we did not understand what was happening. The real risk today is that the French, Europeans, and others do not understand what is happening and tell themselves, “This is a rough patch; we’ll just ride it out, and then things will get back to normal.” We saw the climate and demographic shifts coming, but not the political, geopolitical, societal, military, and conflict-related upheavals… The old system is constantly crumbling beneath our feet and before our very eyes. There is therefore an intellectual challenge in understanding what is happening.

At the FMES, we aren’t any smarter than anyone else. We simply spend our days reflecting with people from completely different backgrounds—many from the Global South, from European countries, but also from elsewhere. We exchange perspectives without judging each other’s perceptions. That doesn’t mean everything is equal, but we try to be collectively smarter in order to understand and put words and concepts to what is happening. The second step is to understand that we are vulnerable and that we risk suffering unnecessarily if we don’t make the right decisions. Finally, it’s about trying to make recommendations. But here, I have faith in the human spirit and genius. Moreover, European culture is a culture of democratic debate. This is where democracy, adversarial debate, rationality, the identification of paths forward, the acceptance of failure, and the willingness to say, “I may have been wrong, so I’ll try something else,” were invented. I am therefore quite confident in our ability to overcome, bounce back, and even create a world that is far more resilient, sustainable, and harmonious than the one we inherited. I believe we have every chance of doing so if we get to work. And to do that, we need to understand what is happening—which is why think tanks are so important.

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Pascal Ausseur

Admiral (2s) Pascal Ausseur has assumed operational responsibilities in the naval forces and in the politico-military field, notably within the military office of Hervé Morin and as chief of the military office of Jean-Yves Le Drian. He is the director general of the FMES (Mediterranean Foundation for Strategic Studies).

 

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Discover the other articles of this edition :

• Humanitarian work, hit but not sunk, get up! – Alain Boinet
• Interview with Manuel Patrouillard, Executive Director of the Handicap International Federation
• Humanitarian Aid: The End of the Golden Age, Major Uncertainties… Solutions? – Pierre Brunet
• 50 years of geopolitics : after leaving the benches of college – Salomée Languille