One Leader, Two Meetings, and a Country Caught Between Pipelines
On a humid morning in Beijing, amid the fanfare of an 80th-anniversary commemoration for the end of the Pacific War, a curious scene played out: among presidents and prime ministers who shook hands with Xi Jinping, only one leader from the European Union took his seat at the guest table.
He was Robert Fico, Slovakia’s controversially pragmatic prime minister, and he did not come alone in spirit. Alongside the formal ceremonies, he slipped into private corridors of power, where the politics of energy, memory and national identity were being negotiated with a clarity that left little room for ideology.
A Triad of Meetings: Putin, Zelensky, and the Voter Back Home
On the sidelines of the Beijing event, Fico managed what he has made into a signature diplomatic pattern: a brief, deliberate meeting with Vladimir Putin. It was the third time the two had met since late last year. Then, back in Central Europe, he sat across from Ukraine’s Volodymyr Zelensky in Uzhhorod for what both leaders described as a “meaningful” exchange.
To the outside observer these were more than photo-ops. They were a snapshot of a foreign policy aimed as much at domestic audiences as at foreign capitals. “He wants to show voters he can stand up to Brussels and still keep lights on and heating bills low,” says Alexander Duleba, a senior political scientist at the Slovak Foreign Policy Association. “That’s powerful in a country where memories, friendships, and trade routes run both East and West.”
Politics of Protectionism — and Popularity
Fico’s coalition promised low energy prices and a straightforward message: Slovak interests first. For many voters, that translates into preserving cheap Russian gas and oil, even as Brussels pushes to decouple from Moscow. “You can’t tell a pensioner that prices will rise because of politics,” a Bratislava shopkeeper told me, shrugging as she stacked bottles of sunflower oil. “They’ll blame the politician, not the pipeline.”
That political calculus partly explains why Fico has cut military aid to Ukraine, stalled EU sanctions packages against Russia and vowed to keep importing Russian energy. It also explains why he has kept Slovakia out of the so-called Coalition of the Willing — a group of 31 countries formed to safeguard a post-war settlement in Ukraine — a club that still counts Hungary and Malta among a few European holdouts.
The Numbers That Do the Talking
Behind the slogans are hard statistics. Until last January, Slovakia imported roughly two-thirds of its natural gas from Gazprom, totaling about three billion cubic meters a year transported via Ukraine. Much of that winter fuel didn’t just warm Slovak homes — it passed through, re-exported to neighbours such as Austria, generating transit fees now sorely missed.
The loss of those fees has a tangible price tag: Bratislava estimates the shortfall at about €500 million annually. Meanwhile, around 80% of Slovakia’s crude oil still arrives through the venerable Druzhba pipeline from Russia — a flow that, according to the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA), is valued at roughly €178 million.
“Energy is not abstract here. It’s cash in municipal budgets, diesel in tractors, and gas for school boilers,” says Géza Tokár, an analyst of Slovak politics. “When the numbers are this big, the argument becomes less about geopolitics and more about immediate survival — political survival included.”
Alternative Routes — But at What Cost?
European policymakers are pushing a timeline: phase out Russian gas by 2028. Studies, including one by CREA, argue Slovakia and its neighbours could source non-Russian oil from the Adriatic via Croatia and access other suppliers on the open market.
Yet the transition would come with wrinkles. Infrastructure upgrades, new bilateral contracts, and short-term price spikes are all real threats. “If your entire logistics chain runs one way for decades, re-routing isn’t plug-and-play,” says an EU energy specialist. “It’s expensive and politically risky — especially for an incumbent leader who promised stability.”
History, Nationalism, and the Long Shadow of Memory
To understand why many Slovaks are willing to tolerate a government stretching towards Moscow, you must walk the streets of smaller towns where statues, cemeteries, and family tales blur the line between geopolitics and lineage.
“My grandfather fought in the Red Army,” said an elderly woman I met at a café in Prešov. “We have family in Russia. You cannot simply erase those ties.”
That cultural memory fuels a strain of Slovak national sentiment that is more receptive to Russia than many Western capitals assume. Fico, historian turned politician turned populist, has long traded on that sentiment. His SMER party weaves together center-left economic populism with conservative stances on immigration and social issues — a mix that has proven electorally resilient.
The Post-Shooting Prime Minister and the Limits of Political Theatre
There are dramatic personal notes to this political story too. Fico survived a near-fatal shooting some 16 months ago and made a remarkable recovery. He returns to diplomacy with the aura of a leader who has stared down violence and come back determined. That image helps him brandish independence on the international stage with an almost theatrical flair.
Yet symbolism can only carry a leader so far. After his meeting with Zelensky, Fico publicly endorsed Ukraine’s EU membership bid — a point of divergence from Hungary, which opposes Kyiv’s accession. “Support for integration is not the same as unconditional endorsement of every Ukrainian policy,” Fico said, attempting to balance Brussels and Moscow in a single breath.
What Does This Mean for Europe — and for You?
For citizens across the continent, the Slovak case raises uneasy questions. How much sovereignty should be sacrificed for energy security? When is pragmatism mere expedience? And how do democratic societies navigate the tension between voters’ immediate needs and long-term strategic goals?
If the EU’s 2028 target holds, the transition away from Russian energy will reshape supply chains, trade balances, and geopolitical alliances. Yet leaders like Fico demonstrate that domestic politics will remain the decisive force: parties that can tie international policy to household budgets will always hold leverage.
So I ask you, reader: would you accept short-term price hikes if it meant reducing dependence on an autocratic supplier? Or is it fair to prioritize immediate economic relief over uncertain, distant strategic gains?
Looking Ahead
Slovakia’s path forward is neither predetermined nor simple. The country sits at the crossroads of pipelines and histories, of EU ambitions and old friendships that travel via rail and radio across borders. Fico’s diplomacy — meetings in Beijing, handshakes in Uzhhorod, and conversations with Moscow — is part show, part strategy, and entirely rooted in the pressures of voters paying their utility bills.
What happens next will depend on whether the alternatives the CREA study and Brussels advocate become politically feasible and economically bearable. It will depend on whether Slovak industry and households can absorb the costs of re-routing supply. And it will depend, in the end, on the stories politicians tell at kitchen tables and in cafes — stories that decide whether national interest means choosing comfort today or security tomorrow.
