Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the European Union has projected itself as the moral compass of the democratic world—architecting what it calls the most comprehensive sanctions regime ever assembled against a major economy. For Brussels, sanctions have served not only as a policy tool but as a marker of Western resolve, an assertion that democratic values can be defended through coordinated economic pressure.
Three years later, however, a closer look reveals an uncomfortable truth: Europe’s sanctions architecture is less principled than advertised. While the EU continues to exhort others—particularly large developing economies—to curtail their engagements with Russia, its own record reflects a system designed as much to protect European economic interests as to punish the Kremlin. The gap between rhetoric and reality has widened to the point where partners and critics alike increasingly describe the EU’s approach as one of selective morality.
In 2024, the Union’s trade with Russia totalled €67.5 billion ($77.9 billion), nearly identical to India’s $68.7 billion over the same period—even though India does not claim to be leading a sanctions coalition. The accusation of double standards is therefore not rhetorical flourish; it is grounded in Europe’s own data.
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Europe’s track record
Across 19 sanctions packages, the pattern has become unmistakable: Sweeping announcements followed by carefully engineered exceptions designed to shield key European industries. When sanctions were first imposed, the EU declared 11 initial packages that targeted Russia’s “strategic” raw materials—oil, coal, steel, timber, and more. Yet the commodities most strategic to Europe’s own manufacturing base and green transition, such as nickel, palladium, titanium, and fertiliser ingredients, were quietly left untouched.
Between March 2022 and July 2023, the EU imported €13.7 billion worth of Russian critical raw materials, including €1.2 billion in nickel alone. The volume of Russian palladium imports into the EU increased during this period, the metal is essential for Europe’s car manufacturing sector—an industry estimated to support 13 million jobs across the continent.
By the 9th sanctions package, the pattern had solidified. Each new round introduced politically symbolic steps—ravel bans, asset freezes, and bans on minor exports—while creating new corridors for the imports Europe could not dare to lose.
In 2024, the UK and the US banned Russian nickel, copper, and aluminium. The EU imported $1.3 billion worth of Russian nickel that year, with roughly two-thirds entering through Finland, home to the major Norilsk Nickel refinery operated by a Russian-majority-owned entity. Once processed in the EU, some of this nickel reportedly re-entered Western supply chains, including the United States—a loophole entirely compliant with EU rules.
The 16th sanctions package preserved access to titanium, aluminium, copper, nickel, palladium, and iron ore—all critical for Europe’s industrial strategy. Even in 2025, despite political calls for “full economic isolation,” Russia still accounted for 15 per cent of EU nickel imports in Q2. The EU may, of course, have its own economic considerations for this approach, but the divergence is notable.
When the 19th package appeared in October 2025, Brussels presented it as a historic tightening of sanctions. Yet the true test lies in its implementation. Europe’s track record suggests that any industrial discomfort could trigger new exemptions.
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Selective sanctions
Similarly, on the energy front, despite aggressive political statements about ending dependence on Russian fossil fuels, Russian LNG increased its share of EU imports from 15 per cent in 2023 to 20 per cent in 2024—the highest on record. Spain, France, and Belgium were among the top global importers of Russian LNG during this period.
The 19th sanctions package announced in 2025 again avoided hard decisions. A ban on Russian LNG imports will only take effect in January 2027, effectively granting European energy buyers a two-year transition to secure alternatives. Until then, Russian LNG can continue entering EU ports, and companies can continue signing long-term contracts—an option denied to countries that the EU pressures to reduce Russian engagement. Although Brussels may need extended timelines to prevent energy shocks, it nevertheless invites scrutiny on how uniformly its principles are applied.
This transition window contrasts sharply with EU criticism of Asian and African countries for not “quickly enough” reducing their dependence on Russian oil. For many developing economies, Russian fuel discounts provided economic breathing room during a period of global inflation and supply shocks. Europe, by contrast, used the same period to reinforce its energy security even if it meant prolonging Russian revenues. Europe’s selective sanctions approach is drawing sharper scrutiny for three reasons.
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The so-called ‘Global South’ is redefining its economic geography
For many emerging economies—India, Türkiye, Brazil, Indonesia, South Africa—the Ukraine war marked a transition to new patterns of multipolar trade. These countries refuse to view sanctions as a test of geopolitical loyalty. When Europe demands that others sacrifice growth or energy security while preserving its own exemptions, the credibility gap becomes glaring.
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Russia has successfully reoriented its economy
Despite sanctions, Russia recorded 3.6 per cent GDP growth in 2023, outpacing the EU’s 0.5 per cent. In 2024, the IMF projected Russia’s growth at 2.6 per cent, again above several major EU economies. Europe’s own loopholes—particularly in metals, LNG, and machine parts routed through third countries—have softened the blow.
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China’s rise as Russia’s principal economic lifeline changes the sanctions calculus
EU carve-outs weaken Western unity precisely when Beijing is expanding its influence in Russia’s energy, technology, and industrial sectors. European exceptions effectively undercut the argument for a cohesive, values-based sanctions regime.
Three years into the war, Europe’s sanctions regime now resembles a policy of managed hypocrisy: Moral rhetoric for public consumption, exemptions for industrial preservation. From critical minerals to liquefied gas, the EU’s dependence on Russian resources remains structurally entrenched even as Brussels urges others to “take principled positions.”
Europe’s climate and industrial goals are genuine. Its security concerns are valid. But values-based foreign policy loses meaning when those values bend under domestic pressure. If the EU seeks leadership in shaping global norms, it must do what it demands of others: Align its moral claims with its market behaviour. Until then, its calls for global solidarity will remain selectively applied—and increasingly unconvincing.
Shishir Priyadarshi is President, Chintan Research Foundation. Views are personal.

