The European Union's foreign policy machinery is breaking down at precisely the wrong moment—and Portugal, a country that has parlayed EU membership into outsized global influence, has much to lose. High Representative Kaja Kallas has become the lightning rod for criticism over mounting questions about whether Brussels can speak with one voice when global instability demands it.
Why This Matters
• Structural overhaul pending: France and Germany are pushing comprehensive reforms to the European External Action Service (EEAS), which could shift power away from the High Representative toward the Commission or individual capitals.
• Portugal's interests at risk: A fragmented EU foreign policy weakens Portugal's diplomatic leverage in Africa, Latin America, and Asia—regions where Lisbon has maintained crucial relationships.
• Defense spending debate intensifies: The tension between Kallas's NATO-first approach and Commission President Ursula von der Leyen's push for a common European military force will shape Portugal's defense obligations and budget pressures.
• Consensus breakdown: Kallas has acknowledged that the EU's slow response to crises like Gaza stems from lack of agreement among member states, not just bureaucratic dysfunction.
Why This Matters to Portugal
For Portugal, these reforms strike at the heart of the country's diplomatic strategy. Portugal has leveraged EU membership to amplify its voice in former colonies and Portuguese-speaking nations—a relationship that requires coordinated EU support. If Brussels fragments into competing power centers, Lisbon loses that megaphone.
When Acting Like a Prime Minister Backfires
Since taking office in December 2024, Kallas—the former Estonian Prime Minister—has been accused of governing the EU's foreign policy as though she were still running a nation-state. Diplomats across the bloc complain she launches initiatives without adequate prior consultation, makes sweeping public statements on China and Russia, and struggles to build the coalitions necessary in a body that requires unanimity among 27 governments.
A particularly damaging episode involved her private remarks during discussions with Mexican officials, in which she reportedly compared Israel's treatment of Palestinians to apartheid-era South Africa. The comment contradicted the EU's official position and was viewed by several capitals as a serious diplomatic misstep. Separately, her claim that American embassies were leaving Kyiv while European missions remained—made during a Russian warning—was seen as tone-deaf and factually questionable.
Critics argue Kallas has imported Estonia's historical anxieties about Moscow and attempted to universalize them across the entire Union, rather than balancing them against the bloc's broader continental peace project. While her hard line enjoys support in Poland, the Baltics, and parts of Northern Europe, it has alienated member states with more nuanced or trade-dependent relationships with Russia and China.
The EEAS Under Fire: A System Built for Another Era
Beyond Kallas herself, the controversy has exposed fundamental weaknesses in the EU's diplomatic architecture. The European External Action Service—the bloc's diplomatic corps—is widely regarded as slow, inconsistent, and hamstrung by overlapping competencies with national foreign ministries, the European Commission, and the Council of the EU.
A French reform proposal, backed by Berlin, has put forward several scenarios: strengthening the High Representative's mandate, reducing her authority in favor of the Commission or member states, or placing foreign policy more directly under Commission or Council control. The document reflects a consensus that the current system, designed in a different geopolitical context, no longer matches the EU's priorities or the international landscape.
Kallas has welcomed the debate, acknowledging that Brussels could function better and avoid duplicating efforts. Yet she insists that the EU's power structure is enshrined in treaties and cannot be rewritten by the political whims of individual governments. Her critics counter that treaties can be amended—and that the urgency of global challenges, from Ukraine to the Indo-Pacific, demands it.
What This Means for Portugal
For Portugal, the outcome of this power struggle will determine how much influence Lisbon retains over EU foreign policy. A more centralized system under the Commission could dilute Portuguese priorities in Africa and Latin America, where the country has maintained strong diplomatic and economic relationships. Conversely, a return of competencies to member states could empower Portugal to pursue its own regional strategies, but at the cost of a weaker collective EU voice.
The debate also has direct fiscal implications. Kallas advocates for strengthening individual member states' defense capabilities within the NATO framework, while von der Leyen has consistently backed the idea of a common European military force. For Portugal, the latter could mean higher defense spending commitments and a potential reshuffling of procurement budgets—an issue that resonates in a country still managing post-pandemic fiscal consolidation.
Portugal currently spends approximately 1.5% of GDP on defense, below NATO's 2% target. A common EU military force could pressure Lisbon to increase spending by billions of euros annually—funds that would otherwise go to healthcare, education, or infrastructure—while potentially requiring Portuguese troops to serve under EU rather than national command.
Portugal's strategic interest lies in an EU that can act decisively but also accommodate diverse national perspectives. The current dysfunction undermines both goals. When the EU is paralyzed by internal disagreement—as it has been over Gaza, according to Kallas herself—Portugal's diplomatic influence in the Middle East and North Africa suffers.
The Von der Leyen Factor: A Rivalry in Plain Sight
This isn't just a Brussels turf war. The friction reflects a fundamental question: Who speaks for Europe? Is it the High Representative, appointed to coordinate member states? Or is it the Commission President, who commands a bureaucracy with resources and legal tools the EEAS lacks?
Complicating matters is an apparent power struggle between Kallas and Commission President Ursula von der Leyen. The two have diverged not only on defense policy but also on visibility and control over key foreign policy portfolios. As the Commission's role in external affairs continues to expand—driven by trade, climate diplomacy, and development aid—the lines between the High Representative's mandate and the Commission's authority have blurred.
For Portugal, the answer to this institutional question will shape everything from trade negotiations to climate diplomacy in the Global South.
Defenders and Detractors
Despite the criticism, Kallas retains a bloc of supporters. Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia back her firm stance toward Moscow, viewing her as a necessary counterweight to what they perceive as Western European complacency. These countries argue that Kallas's directness is not a flaw but a feature—an antidote to the slow, consensus-driven diplomacy that allowed Russia to invade Ukraine.
Yet even sympathetic voices concede that Kallas has struggled to translate her convictions into effective coalition-building. Her tenure has been described by some diplomats as "uninspiring," lacking the strategic vision or political dexterity required to navigate the EU's labyrinthine decision-making.
Her predecessor, Josep Borrell, faced similar critiques. Borrell's five-year term (2019–2024) was marked by rhetorical boldness but also missteps, including a disastrous trip to Moscow in 2021 that underscored the EU's perceived weakness. He criticized his own diplomatic corps for being slow and paternalistic, and was faulted for an allegedly soft stance toward autocratic regimes. Kallas was expected to bring a more assertive, strategic approach—but the early verdict is mixed.
The Road Ahead
The debate over Kallas and the EEAS is ultimately a proxy for a much larger question: Can the European Union forge a unified foreign policy in an era of renewed great-power competition? The answer will depend not only on institutional reforms but on whether member states are willing to cede sovereignty in exchange for collective influence.
For Portugal, the stakes are tangible. A coherent EU foreign policy amplifies Lisbon's voice in regions where it has deep historical ties. A fragmented one leaves Portugal reliant on bilateral relationships that, while valuable, lack the heft of a united Europe. As the reform debate intensifies in the coming months, Portuguese policymakers will need to decide whether their interests are better served by a stronger High Representative, a more powerful Commission, or a return of authority to national capitals.
What is certain is that the status quo—marked by slow decision-making, overlapping mandates, and inconsistent messaging—serves no one. Whether Kallas can reform the system from within, or whether the system will ultimately reform around her, remains to be seen. For now, the criticism she faces is less a verdict on one leader than a symptom of a diplomatic architecture in crisis.
