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Russian oil sanctions: Maintaining the fragile balance between determination and practicality

Editorial

Le Monde

For the EU, there is a fine line between its desire to hasten the end of Russia's war in Ukraine and its desire to cushion the effects of the energy crisis. Published on December 6, 2022

The sanctions put in place by the West against Russia to make it give in to Ukraine are becoming a little more sophisticated. Since Monday, December 5, no ship carrying Russian crude oil will be able to unload its cargo in a port of the European Union or of one of the seven most industrialized countries (G7). This measure is in addition to the decision taken three days earlier to cap the price of a barrel from Russia for countries that do not apply the Western embargo. Then, on February 5, 2023, the embargo will affect refined products. Almost a year after the start of the invasion of Ukraine, Russia's ability to finance its war effort has never been so constrained.

After the embargo on coal came into effect in August and the cessation of almost all gas deliveries to Europe over the summer by Russia's own hand, oil is still the main source of foreign currency available to Vladimir Putin to continue his mad and murderous aggression against Ukraine. The sanctions that have now been imposed are an important lever to dry up this income source.

The integrity of the embargo is far from absolute. It is neither possible nor desirable. It is not possible because large oil importers such as India, China and Turkey, which did not vote for the package of sanctions against Moscow, have conveniently substituted themselves against the collapse of European demand.

Moreover, the West has no interest in destabilizing world production. Without any more Russian oil, its prices would explode, causing enormous damage to the G7 economies. Setting a ceiling price for Russian exports both ensures a certain stability in the market and forces Russia to sell its oil at a discount in order to reduce its budgetary revenues and its military effort.

But beyond the economic effects, this new phase for Western sanctions sends a political message to Vladimir Putin. Since the beginning of the war, the Russian president has been betting on the softness of the Western reaction and its loss of steam over time. A bad calculation. Despite the complexity of implementing the sanctions, despite the efforts they require by Europeans to wean themselves off Russian fossil fuels, despite the impact on inflation and their daily lives, and finally despite the dissensions that are occasionally fueled by untimely statements such as the "security guarantees" that Emmanuel Macron believes should be offered to Russia, the determination and solidarity of the West have not wavered.

For months, Vladimir Putin's regime has used propaganda to hammer home the point that sanctions do not work and that they penalize their enforcers more than Russia. The more time passes, the more this narrative disintegrates. The acceleration of the economic crisis in Russia and the military stalemate in which its army finds itself are proof of this. At the same time, the EU, thanks to the diversification of its supplies, is succeeding in doing without Russian oil and gas at a speed that was hardly imaginable only a few months ago.

But it is not yet fast enough in the opinion of Ukraine, which is legitimately calling for even more radical measures. But for the EU, there is a fine line between its desire to hasten the end of the war and its desire to cushion the effects of an energy crisis that threatens to turn into an economic and social crisis. The only strategy for Europe is to maintain the fragile balance between determination and practicality.

China’s Xi to Visit Saudi Arabia for Regional Summits

Xi Jinping is expected to sign a flurry of contracts with the Saudis and other Gulf States, highlighting Beijing’s growing clout in the region when Washington has pulled away.

President Xi Jinping of China at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing. He is expected to visit Saudi Arabia for three days.Credit...Mark R Cristino/EPA, via Shutterstock

By Vivian Nereim and David Pierson

Dec. 6, 2022

RIYADH, Saudi Arabia — China’s leader will travel to Saudi Arabia on Wednesday for a flurry of summits bringing together heads of state from across the Middle East, a region where longtime American allies are growing increasingly closer to China.

The Chinese president, Xi Jinping, will visit the kingdom for three days and attend Saudi-China, Gulf-China and Arab-China summits, the Saudi state news agency reported on Tuesday. More than 30 heads of states and leaders of international organizations plan to attend, the report said, adding that Saudi Arabia and China were expected to sign a “strategic partnership.”

Mr. Xi’s visit to Saudi Arabia is aimed at deepening China’s decades-old ties with the Gulf region, which started narrowly as a bid to secure oil, and have since developed into a complex relationship involving arms sales, technology transfers and infrastructure projects.

The Chinese leader is expected to sign a flurry of contracts with the Saudi government and other Gulf States, sending a message that Beijing’s clout in the region is growing at a time when Washington has pulled away from the Middle East to devote more attention to Asia.

The grand state visit will inevitably draw comparisons to Donald J. Trump’s arrival in the Saudi capital, Riyadh, for his first trip abroad as president in 2017. He was greeted by streets decorated with American flags and an enormous image of his face projected on the side of a building.

Saudi Arabia has been a close American ally for more than half a century. But its authoritarian rulers have long sought to deepen other alliances to prepare for an emerging multipolar world.

U.S.-Saudi ties have been especially fractious over the past few years, with the administration of President Biden declaring a “recalibration” of the relationship and pressing the kingdom over human rights violations, including the 2018 murder of the Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi — a Saudi citizen and U.S. resident at the time — by Saudi agents in Istanbul.

“Xi clearly wants to make a statement at a moment at which the relationship between the United States and Saudi Arabia is strained,” said James Dorsey, a senior fellow at the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies in Singapore.

“It’s a good moment to replant the flag, if you wish. And I think it’s a good moment for the Gulf States to say, ‘Hey, we have other options. Washington, you’re not the only ones out there.’”

The Stain of Toxic MasculinityOne Man's Crusade against Machismo in Latin America

Machismo is widespread in Latin America. Bogotás undersecretary for culture would like to change that and redefine what it means to be a man. He has developed a program for teaching men to cook, change diapers and talk about their feelings.

By Nicola Abé in Bogotá

For our Global Societies project, reporters around the world will be writing about societal problems, sustainability and development in Asia, Africa, Latin America and Europe. The series will include features, analyses, photo essays, videos and podcasts looking behind the curtain of globalization. The project is generously funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.

The boys would lie in wait for him after school, usually in a small park. They would gather in a circle, trapping Henry in the middle. "Fight, you coward," they would say, before forcing him, the gentlest of the group, to strike first. If he refused, the group would pummel him. He was 11 at the time. Because it happened over and over again, his older brother finally sent Henry to take karate and taekwondo classes. "From then on, I would win the fights," he says in a quiet voice. "But when I got home, I would cry."

Henry Murrain, 45, is sitting with tears in his eyes in his coffeeshop in Bogotá on a rainy Wednesday. "It isn’t easy to be a child in Latin America," he says. A black man growing up in a white city, someone who was always different from the others, and not just because of the color of his skin. But he is also someone who has made it far in life, becoming the undersecretary of culture for the city – and he has big plans. His mission is nothing less than a cultural shift. But his opponent is not one that can be beaten into submission. His opponent is machismo itself.

Machismo, which he views as a kind of cage imprisoning all of society, is a poison that paralyzes the population, regardless of gender or social standing, and also costs lives. It is a deeply ingrained attitude that has long since been identified as a problem in Latin America, but there have been few attempts to change it – this narrative of the powerful, autonomous man who never cries and isn’t allowed any feelings aside from aggression and sexual desires. The rigid gender roles and societal expectations, says Murrain, don’t just lead to psychological suffering, but also to violence.

The bullying he experienced as a child at school never entirely left him. Because he wanted to learn more about what causes it, he set out to redefine the age-old question: What makes a man a man? He began researching machismo, initially working for an NGO before joining the city administration of Bogotá. It is a city, he says, that has made significant progress over the past decades, including a rapidly sinking murder rate, fewer traffic accidents and more environmental protections. "The only area where there have been no improvements is that of gender-based violence," Murrain says. And he is convinced he has figured out why: "We have never actually worked with men. It’s really quite absurd."

Murrain has set out to change that. First, he established Linea Calma, a hotline that men can call when they are on the verge of beating their wives. He then came up with the idea of Hombres al Cuidado, a kind of school for care work. In four modules of 10 hours each, men learn a number of skills that are widely considered to be unmanly in Colombian society: how to change diapers, cleaning skills, how to recognize feelings and talk about them, how to treat women with respect or deal with childlike rage without lashing out. And participants, when they are doing things like cooking, should "reflect on their masculinity."

Henry Murrain and his team have identified particularly "masculine places" for their lessons, which are financed by the city: male dominated companies, universities, a bus terminal. His staff also drive around in a school bus to promote the program, heading to places like soccer stadiums and favelas. They also go to La Cárcel Distrital prison in Bogotá. Murrain says that including inmates was important to him. "Machismo and criminality are linked. Crime is a manifestation of machismo. Fearlessness, breaking rules and crossing lines are widely seen as male attributes – as sexy, strong and cool."

La Cárcel Distrital prison in Bogotá is home to murders, drug bosses and sexual criminals.

La Cárcel Distrital is a vast brick building on the eastern edge of the city, overlooked by guard towers. Visitors must submit to a number of security checks, including being sniffed by guard dogs, before finally being asked to don a gigantic, full-body black suit. Telephones and scarves are not allowed.

The air inside the building is stale. In the labyrinth of security gates, stairs and hallways poorly lit by energy-efficient tube lighting, it doesn’t take long to lose one’s orientation. The place is home to murderers, drug bosses and bank robbers, but most of the 1,200 prisoners are here for sexual offenses. The prison is less overcrowded than others in the city, which sometimes hit the headlines for bloody uprisings or because the sewage pipes have again become clogged with dismembered body parts.

Nurse Christina Bulla, 38, comes here to the prison library twice a week to teach men in bright orange shirts about concepts like selfcare and mindfulness. She hands out pastel-colored notepads on which the prisoners are to draw pregnant women, or she’ll bring along a baby doll so they can practice dressing it.

Luiz Rey, 32, a man with delicate facial features and a vacant expression in his eyes, is sitting off to the side, his legs nervously bouncing up and down. He has been here since March, and he has another four years to go.

Rey has two children, aged four and six. "I was a terrible father, I behaved poorly." And that, he says, despite a rather promising start. He held down a reliable job at a cleaning company and had a regular income. But then he started taking drugs and cheating on his wife, he says, often not coming home for several days at a time. When they split up, he says, he completely lost it. "I loved her so much," he says. He was drunk and he stabbed a man – "just an impulse," he says, as he jams the tip of a pencil into his chest.

He has three numbers in Roman numerals tattooed on his arm – the day he met his wife, the day his daughter was born and his son’s birthday. On Sunday, the three of them are planning to come for a visit. Of course, he would like to get back together with the love of his life, he says, but he thinks it’s too late. He doesn’t have great faith in his own ability to rehabilitate, and also says that four years is a long time. "I don’t trust her." He thinks she may have found someone else. "I can sense it."

Henry Murrain lets out a sigh over his glass of orange juice. Machismo, he says, leads to a situation in which men are unable to regulate their emotions. From a young age, they aren’t allowed to show sadness, fear and weakness, all of it is suppressed, he says. Which also means that they haven’t been able to learn any tools for dealing with such feelings. "They frequently aren’t able to handle the extreme pain that comes with losing a loving relationship."

Murrain began his career by interviewing men in prison who had murdered their wives. "I found it to be symptomatic that none of them tried to defend what they did. They all said that they didn’t know what had happened to them.” Because these men were overwhelmed by their emotions, Murrain says, they had destroyed their families and their own lives.

"We have to change the narrative,” says Murrain. In an effort to do so, he initiated the production of a fictional mini-series that is shown on social media channels or in public places. It shines the spotlight on problematic behavior and also includes information that help is available for men in such situations, such as by calling the Linea Calma.

One of the films is playing one afternoon in the La Cárcel Distrital prison in Bogotá. Its focus is on jealousy and on the misguided notion that the body of a woman belongs to her husband. Murrain’s studies have found that jealousy is the most common reason for men beating their wives or girlfriends – whether they are 18 years old or 65.

On screen is a young man lying in bed with his girlfriend. As evening falls, she wants to leave the apartment, but realizes that the door has been locked. Her boyfriend is suspicious that she intends to go out to meet other men. She starts crying and begs him to allow her to leave. But he has hidden the key in a shoe and keeps her captive.

One of the inmates, an older man, says: "Oh God, I was that guy for 20 years." He says he ruined his marriage.

A few minutes later, in the back of the library, he says: "The macho is the façade. Behind it hides a tormented, insecure child.” It is a sentence straight from Murrain, but which has found an echo here in this white-painted room with round skylights high up in the ceiling.

"Another five minutes," a loud voice calls out. A female prison guard is standing in the doorway in a black-and-gray camouflage suit, complete with a bullet-proof vest and a truncheon. It’s a quarter to four, and the men actually still have time. But just a few minutes later, a shout pierces the room: "We’re heading out," and the men have to return to their cells. The guard is considered to be particularly strict. Christina Bulla, the nurse, says she thinks it would make sense for the guards to also go through the training program, but they refused.

On the last day of the first module, called "How you as a man can take care of others," role playing is on the schedule. Bulla divides the men into small groups and hands out their assignments. One of them: Their 15-year-old daughter admits to her parents that she is pregnant. How does the family react?

Edwin Lozano, 52, a brawny man with bushy eyebrows, plays the father. "You’ve ruined everything!" he shouts at the daughter, being played by a young prisoner. "Even though I’ve stol… worked by whole life so that you’ll have it easier!" He then goes after the mother for not being strict enough during the girl’s upbringing.

In the discussion that follows, he is fully aware that his reaction wasn’t exactly optimal, that he should have remained calm, listened and led a constructive conversation. "The course is preparing me for real life with my grandchildren," says Lozano, who is in prison for seven robberies, though he insists he "knows nothing" about some of them. He says he is a truck driver and businessman and that he has four children, three of whom are already grown.

Lozano then begins talking about his childhood. He says there used to be a lot of violence in families, and that he was beaten by his mother. His father, he says, was strict and unemotional, and that he didn’t do any household chores. Sometimes, he says, he would help his mother wash the dishes, but his father ultimately banned him from doing so.

"Eighty percent of the men in Bogotá don’t have positive memories of their fathers," says Henry Murrain. "Those are painful numbers."

Murrain has completely different memories of his own father, who passed away just recently. He pulls his mobile phone out of his pocket and shows an old photo. It is of a man with dark, curly hair embracing a seven-year-old Henry on his lap, cheek to cheek. "My father was loving and tender. At home, we would kiss each other and say that we loved each other," he says, his eyes again moistening. "They used to laugh at me at school because I would also tell my friends that I loved them."

His father, he says, was a sailor and saw a lot of the world, getting to know many foreign cultures. Perhaps that is why he was different?

“A majority of men in macho societies miss out on the opportunity to experience a wonderful, deeply human encounter: bathing a baby, reading a story to a small child.”

Henry Murrain

Today, Murrain himself is the father of two young children. He is divorced and lives together with his new partner, with the children alternating between him and his mother from week to week. He enjoys cooking. Nothing, he says, makes him happier than preparing a ramen-noodle soup that his four-year-old son, otherwise not a huge eater, wolfs down.

There is an economic aspect to housework, but also an emotional one. Simply looking at care work through the lens of the economy, he believes, is too shortsighted. "It isn’t just a burden – which mostly falls on women’s shoulders – it is also enjoyable," he says. "A majority of men in macho societies miss out on the opportunity to experience a wonderful, deeply human encounter: bathing a baby, reading a story to a small child."

Murrain, who also has a degree in philosophy, doesn’t believe in the modern-day narrative of a rational homo economicus. He sees humans as emotional, interdependent beings. Care work, which is about connections with others, is one expression of that, he says, making it a foundation of humanity. But machismo, which essentially rejects men as a complete humans, he says, leads to a situation in which men can neither recognize their own needs nor those of others.

And precisely for that reason, Murrain is convinced that other men need the experience of care work as a kind of healing.

But can a few hours of drawing and group discussions really achieve anything, particularly with hardened criminals? Of course it’s not ideal, he says, but he has to work within the boundaries of what is possible. The prison is likely the space within which Murrain’s anti-machismo concept will encounter its most challenging reality check.

At the end of the first module of the training course, the prisoners in their bright orange shirts must fill out a questionnaire before returning to their cells. Nurse Bulla collects the sheets of paper, quickly scans one of them, rolls her eyes and shakes her head. After the three-week course, one participant again checked the box indicating that caring for babies is a woman’s job. "Men aren’t able to change diapers."

This piece is part of the Global Societies series. The project runs for three years and is funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.