The recent energy security conference in Vilnius was a perfect opportunity for the Baltics to put on their best political face. It was a chance to take a moral high ground vis-a-vis Russia, reminding the EU 's particularly those larger, sometimes forgetful "old member states" 's of these tiny democracies' precarious energy dependence on a powerful and increasingly belligerent eastern neighbor. It was a chance to show that they, in contrast to Russia, had the political maturity and sophistication to pull together and work out joint solutions to their energy needs. This did not happen.
Granted, the delegates seemed to be on the Balts' side. U.S. and British experts blasted Gazprom and Russian President Vladimir Putin for attempting to use Russia's energy monopoly as a political tool 's a phenomenon to which Western leaders seem to have become savvy only in recent years. Conspicuously absent from the conference were not only delegates from Russia, the region's energy bogeyman, but also Germany.
The latter would appear to be hiding with its tail between its legs with so much attention now on the controversial Nord Stream gas pipeline, a project to pump Russian gas to Germany by way of the Baltic Sea.
Deals like Nord Stream are precisely the kind of bilateral agreements that Russia likes to strike up with its neighbors thereby driving a wedge between EU partners. At the conference, the need to adhere to a common EU energy policy (read: a common policy in dealing with Russia) was the mantra.
Indeed some new cooperation was evident. Lithuanian president Adamkus managed to secure a deal with the presidents of Azerbaijan, Georgia, Poland and Ukraine on a crude oil pipeline that would supply Europe, bypassing Russia.
However it was Poland, at least this time, that poisoned the well of cooperation.
Baltic and EU policy makers have been warning of the dangers of "energy islands," sections of territory that are not connected to their neighbors' electricity grids. The Baltics, with the small exception of the recently installed Estlink cable between Estonia and Finland, are just such an island. They cannot buy extra electricity from outside when needed, or sell their electricity on the open market.
Part of the solution was to be an interlinking of the Polish and Lithuanian grids in preparation for new nuclear power plant in Ignalina, a joint project between Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Poland. But the future energy bridge is now in doubt, thanks to Poland's sudden insistence that it be given 1,200 megawatts of the plant's output 's something that would require a major reworking of the Baltic-Polish deal, and indeed the planned capacity of the plant.
Poland shouldn't shoulder all of the blame in this case. Since the project's beginning, Lithuania has been sending mixed signals about its intentions for the plant, proving itself a questionable energy partner. Most famously it took the unilateral decision to cut Poland in on what was originally a three-way deal between the Baltic countries, and without consulting Estonia or Latvia, gave itself a 34 percent stake.
On Oct. 15, only weeks after championing environmental issues at the United Nations, Estonian President Toomas Hendrik Ilves with his Latvian counterpart to discuss a joint coal power plant. Given that coal is one of the dirtiest sorts of energy, the move seems hypocritical. On the other hand, given Lithuania's whimsy in dealing with Ignalina, Latvia and Estonia can't be blamed for hedging their bets on the nuclear deal.
Once again, Baltic 's and Polish 's leaders have shown the world that, despite their common needs, they can't broker or adhere to a common energy solution. The Baltics will remain, for now, stranded on an energy island. Theirs is not one where the castaways band together to work towards rescue, but rather like the one in "Lord of the Flies," where they go at each other with sharpened sticks.
