EU envoys agreed on Sept. 22, 2026, to drop Russian billionaires Alisher Usmanov and Mikhail Fridman from the sanctions list after Latvia dropped its veto, even as the bloc renewed Russia-related sanctions on around 3,000 targets for three more years. The Brussels apparatus can move fast when it wants to. Two oligarchs out, thousands still trapped inside a sanctions regime that keeps grinding on, with national governments and EU institutions managing the whole thing like a permanent administrative siege.
Brussels Decides, Capitals Bargain
France had pressed for Usmanov’s removal on security grounds, while Luxembourg called for similar treatment for other sanctioned individuals. That is how the EU’s machinery works in practice: member states trade arguments, vetoes, and exemptions while presenting the result as orderly governance. Latvia’s veto fell, the names came off, and the wider sanctions package stayed in place. The formal language of procedure hides the basic fact that a handful of governments decide who gets punished, who gets spared, and when the rules bend.
The move stood out as a rare exception inside a broad sanctions regime aimed at Russia and its allies. Around 3,000 targets remain under the EU’s grip for three more years. The bloc’s message is simple enough. The sanctions architecture stays. The exceptions are negotiated. The people affected by it do not get a vote.
Politico reported that the decision could also be tied to a broader diplomatic deal, potentially involving the release of French nationals detained in Azerbaijan, citing a Financial Times report. If that account is right, then sanctions are not just punishment. They become bargaining chips in state-to-state deals, traded across borders by officials who treat restrictive measures as leverage. The people caught inside the system are reduced to entries on a list, useful when governments need pressure and disposable when they need an exit.
The Sanctions Regime as State Power
The Reuters account focused on the formal sanctions process, the renewal of the wider package and the resolution of Latvia’s veto. That process matters because it shows the EU doing what it does best: turning coercion into procedure. The bloc renews sanctions, adjusts names, and presents the result as disciplined foreign policy. From the outside, it looks like technocracy. From below, it looks like a machine that decides who is inside the circle of punishment and who gets a temporary reprieve.
France’s push for Usmanov’s removal on security grounds and Luxembourg’s call for similar treatment for other sanctioned individuals show how quickly the language of principle gives way to national interest. One government wants an exception. Another wants the same. A veto disappears. A deal may be waiting in the wings. The EU’s vaunted unity survives by making room for selective mercy and selective pressure, all while keeping the larger sanctions regime intact.
Who Gets to Negotiate
The Politico report highlighted concern among some lawmakers that sanctions could become bargaining tools, setting a precedent for using restrictive measures as leverage in negotiations. That concern lands on familiar ground. Once sanctions become currency in diplomatic deals, the line between justice and bargaining gets thinner than the paperwork suggests. The bloc keeps its broad sanctions package in place, but the names on it can still be moved around when governments find a reason.
The delisting of Usmanov and Fridman stands out precisely because the wider system remains untouched. Around 3,000 targets stay under sanctions for three more years. The EU keeps the machinery running. National governments keep haggling over exceptions. And the people most affected by this kind of rule-by-list have no seat at the table, only the consequences.
The whole episode says plenty about how power moves in Europe. Brussels writes the framework. Capitals press their cases. Vetoes get dropped. Deals may be struck elsewhere. Then the institutions call it policy.