Iceland and the European credibility gap

On 29 August, Icelanders voted by 52.8 per cent to 47.2 per cent against resuming accession negotiations with the European Union. The result was close and hardly unforeseeable: polls had shown a divided electorate and the no camp held only a narrow lead. The ballot did not decide membership. It merely asked for permission to reopen negotiations, with a second referendum required on any final agreement. A majority still declined.

The geopolitical cost is real. Enlargement is one of the EU’s strategic objectives for the 2024-2029 political cycle and has returned to the centre of European geopolitics since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Iceland appeared to be the closest and least complicated prospect. Its membership would have strengthened the EU’s position in the Arctic and shown that enlargement can still attract established, affluent democracies. That opportunity has now receded.

Yet the deeper shock is symbolic. The referendum has cut through a comfortable European assumption: that the EU’s attraction is self-evident and its credibility travels automatically with its treaties, standards and market.

The enlargement process has helped entrench this belief. Candidate countries wait for years at Brussels’ door while the EU defines the conditions and controls the pace. Much of that asymmetry is technically unavoidable. Over time, however, an accession method has hardened into a broader diplomatic reflex. European policymakers have grown accustomed to believing that partners need the EU more than the EU needs them, and that Brussels is therefore entitled to set the terms of cooperation.

Iceland reversed this familiar scene. It is a prosperous European democracy, a NATO ally and a member of the European Economic Area and Schengen. It already participates in the single market and applies a large body of EU law. Fisheries, agriculture and sovereignty would have made negotiations politically difficult, but the technical path towards membership was relatively straightforward. The EU opened the door. Iceland chose to close it.

That reversal exposes the gap between European self-perception and external judgement. It could prove useful if it persuades Brussels to ask how its offer looks from the other side of the table. Iceland is only one, unusually close, partner. The same credibility gap is visible across the EU’s global relationships.

The 2025 International Digital Strategy states that, “at the current geopolitical juncture, the EU remains a reliable and predictable partner”. Reliability and predictability are presented as the starting point for building new partnerships in a turbulent world. In practice, they are verdicts delivered by other governments and societies after observing European behaviour. Declaring them does not secure them.

Across Africa, Asia and Latin America, policy debates repeatedly raise three complaints: European double standards, especially over Palestine; a paternalistic approach reinforced by extensive conditionality; and the disproportionate weight retained by European countries in international institutions. These arguments can be found in institutions as different as the Al Jazeera Centre for Studies, Morocco’s Policy Center for the New South, Singapore’s ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute, Argentina’s CARI and Brazil’s Fundação Getulio Vargas.

Outside the West, the difficulty of dealing with the EU has itself become a subject of debate. The strategic effect of these perceptions does not depend on Brussels accepting every charge. Governments choose partners according to their interests, the reliability of the offer and the respect they expect to receive. European intentions cannot erase an external perception of inconsistency or condescension.

The criticism has travelled beyond policy circles. In June 2026, Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández, the Vatican’s doctrinal chief, accused the EU of applying international law selectively by sanctioning some invasions while treating others differently. It was a severe and specific charge. The limited reaction in Brussels suggested how difficult European institutions still find it to engage with challenges to their own narrative.

There are European officials who recognise the problem. In a candid speech at the annual Asia-Pacific Roundtable in Kuala Lumpur in June 2024, the EU ambassador to Malaysia, Michalis Rokas, described the accusation he regularly encountered: “In Kuala Lumpur or elsewhere in the region, I find myself confronted with the accusation of double standards. What is now happening in Gaza has portrayed Europe in a way that many people simply do not understand. They saw our quick engagement and decisiveness in supporting Ukraine and wonder about the way we approach what is happening in Palestine”. He could explain the EU’s unanimity rules and the different histories of its member states. The outside perception, he acknowledged, remained unchanged.

This is the reflection the EU now needs. Whether every criticism is fair matters less than recognising that potential partners often see Europe very differently from how Europe sees itself. Accepting that gap is the first step towards partnerships built with greater reciprocity and greater attention to the priorities of others.

Icelandic membership would have been an important geopolitical success, so the defeat carries a high price. If the referendum breaks the EU’s veil of self-perception, however, the trauma may still strengthen Europe’s position in the long term. Credibility cannot be presumed. It depends on the judgement of the partners Europe now urgently needs.