The European Commission is promising more support to Egypt, even as Egyptian warplanes reportedly bomb in Sudan and authorities carry out a campaign of violence against the refugees it hosts.
The civil war in Sudan includes reports of genocide, chemical-weapons use, mass rape, and starvation, forcing some 1.2 million Sudanese people into Egypt, which was described as a priority migration-busting partner by commission president Ursula von der Leyen on Tuesday (13 October), who also promised continuing support for Cairo.
In a letter sent to the 27 heads of state and government ahead of an EU summit on Thursday in Brussels, she spoke of “offering protection and durable solutions in … host countries”, as well as further aid for Sudanese people who had returned to parts of the country, now deemed relatively safe.
But her warm words stand in sharp contrast to internal EU documents on Sudan, released by the London-based group Statewatch earlier this month, and which speak of an Egyptian-led campaign of violence against the Sudanese it is tasked to help.
“The Egyptian authorities have continued arbitrary arrests, detention and deportation campaign against migrants, asylum seekers and refugees, with a sharp escalation of forced deportations being observed since January 2026,” said the Irish EU presidency, in an internal document written in September.
Estimates suggest Egypt hosts over nine million migrants and refugees.
Some 80 percent are Sudanese, Syrian, Yemeni, and Libyan nationals. Of those, just over 1 million are officially registered as refugees. Most come from Sudan.
And Egypt’s crackdown also comes amid a massive 74 percent funding cut for the UN’s refugee agency in the country, even as the EU’s financial support to Cairo increases, already totalling €5bn.
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The European Union has long presented itself as a global defender of democracy, human rights and the rule of law. Yet its growing enthusiasm for closer relations with the Gulf monarchies raises an increasingly uncomfortable question: how much are those principles worth when substantial economic and strategic interests are at stake?
On October 16th, the European Parliament will host senior parliamentary representatives from the six members of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC): Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and Oman.
The conference, chaired by European Parliament President Roberta Metsola, will address parliamentary cooperation, maritime security and the geopolitical consequences of Russia’s war against Ukraine.
On paper, the initiative represents an entirely reasonable diplomatic exercise. Europe needs reliable energy supplies, secure international shipping routes and constructive relations with influential Middle Eastern governments.
But there is another side to this developing partnership, one that Brussels cannot simply dismiss as an inconvenient complication.
Several Gulf governments maintain political systems in which meaningful democratic opposition is severely restricted, freedom of expression is curtailed and individuals can face imprisonment for challenging those in power.
The question is not whether Europe should maintain diplomatic relations with such countries. It plainly must.
The question is whether those relations should be celebrated as strategic partnerships without demanding meaningful improvements in the treatment of their own citizens.
Saudi Arabia’s international image has undergone a remarkable transformation in recent years.
Under Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, the kingdom has promoted ambitious economic reforms, tourism projects and international sporting events designed to present a modernising society. Yet this carefully cultivated image sits uneasily alongside its human rights record.
Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have repeatedly documented concerns over executions, restrictions on political dissent, arbitrary detention and the treatment of women’s rights activists.
The murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi in Istanbul in 2018 remains an enduring symbol of the dangers faced by critics of the Saudi leadership. A 2021 US intelligence assessment concluded that the Crown Prince had approved an operation to capture or kill Khashoggi, an assessment rejected by Saudi Arabia.
Qatar, meanwhile, has attracted sustained criticism over the treatment of migrant workers, particularly during preparations for the 2022 FIFA World Cup. Although labour reforms were introduced, human rights organisations continue to question their implementation and the effectiveness of protections against exploitation.
The UAE, despite its reputation for modernity and commercial sophistication, has similarly faced criticism over restrictions on political expression, detention of dissidents and the absence of meaningful electoral democracy at national level.
Bahrain has been criticised for imprisoning opposition figures and restricting political freedoms, while concerns about migrant labour protections and freedom of expression extend across other Gulf states, albeit with important differences in their individual records.
These are not minor administrative shortcomings. They concern fundamental rights that the European Union claims to regard as universal and non-negotiable.
There is an unmistakable contradiction in Europe’s approach. The European Parliament routinely condemns authoritarian practices in Russia, Belarus and other countries where political freedoms are suppressed. It demands accountability, democratic reform and respect for international law.
Yet when dealing with wealthy Gulf monarchies, the language often becomes considerably more accommodating. Economic opportunity, investment, energy security and regional stability suddenly dominate the conversation.
Such selective emphasis risks creating the impression that Europe’s commitment to human rights is determined less by universal principle than by the commercial and geopolitical importance of the country concerned.
That is a dangerous perception for an institution whose international credibility depends heavily upon its moral authority.
If the imprisonment of political opponents is unacceptable in Moscow or Minsk, why should comparable abuses become less objectionable when committed by governments possessing substantial sovereign wealth funds or strategically important energy reserves?
Europe cannot reasonably demand consistency from others while appearing unwilling to apply it to itself.
None of this diminishes the genuine importance of cooperation with the Gulf. The Strait of Hormuz and the Red Sea are essential maritime corridors connecting Europe with global energy suppliers and Asian markets. Threats to commercial shipping, regional instability and the activities of Iran-aligned armed groups present legitimate security concerns.
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has also demonstrated the dangers of excessive dependence upon unreliable external partners. Diversifying energy relationships is therefore a sensible strategic objective.
Moreover, Gulf governments possess considerable diplomatic influence, including relationships with states and political actors that European governments may struggle to engage directly.
But strategic necessity does not automatically confer moral legitimacy.
Indeed, Europe’s previous dependence upon Russian energy offers a particularly sobering lesson. For years, European governments convinced themselves that extensive commercial engagement with Moscow would encourage moderation and political stability.
Instead, economic interdependence failed to prevent Russian aggression, leaving Europe exposed when that relationship collapsed. It would be reckless to assume that expanding commercial relations with authoritarian governments necessarily produces political liberalisation.
The proposed conference also raises questions about the meaning of parliamentary dialogue.
The European Parliament is a directly elected institution, accountable to hundreds of millions of citizens through competitive democratic elections.
The political institutions of the Gulf states operate under markedly different arrangements, with varying degrees of appointed representation, limited electoral participation and executive authority concentrated within ruling families.
Describing these relationships simply as parliamentary cooperation risks obscuring fundamental differences in democratic legitimacy.
Dialogue can undoubtedly serve a useful purpose. But it should not be allowed to imply an equivalence between representative democratic institutions and political structures in which citizens have far fewer opportunities to challenge those governing them.
Nor should participation in prestigious European institutional events become an exercise in international reputation management for governments facing serious human rights allegations.
The European Parliament has an opportunity to demonstrate that closer cooperation need not mean abandoning its principles.
It could insist that human rights form a substantive part of future engagement, including scrutiny of political imprisonment, freedom of expression, judicial independence and migrant worker protections.
It could also establish mechanisms for monitoring progress rather than relying upon diplomatic assurances.
Such measures would not necessarily undermine economic cooperation. They would establish that the relationship carries responsibilities as well as benefits.
Ultimately, the issue is not whether Europe should talk to the Gulf monarchies, but whether it possesses the political courage to challenge them.
A European Union that condemns authoritarianism in one part of the world while accommodating it elsewhere risks reducing its professed values to little more than diplomatic convenience.
Europe may need the Gulf’s energy, investment and strategic influence, but it should not have to surrender its conscience to obtain them.
And if Brussels cannot reconcile its commercial ambitions with its democratic principles, it must confront a deeply uncomfortable possibility: that Europe’s foreign policy is increasingly being guided not by the values it proclaims, but by the wealth and influence of those sitting across the negotiating table.
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