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France, Germany and the reinvention of Europe
Fudge rarely works
Jan 16th 2003
From The Economist print edition
The latest compromise presented by France and Germany is a recipe for
confusion
IT IS apposite that the latest attempt by France and Germany to reinvent
Europe should be celebrated in the wondrous hall of mirrors in the ill-fated
palace of Versailles. The spectacle of the entire membership of both Germany's
and France's lower houses of parliament due to gather there next week in an
atmosphere of amity should stir the hearts of everyone who desires peace and
prosperity in the world. But the notion, heralded in Paris and Berlin this
week, that the two nations have agreed upon a common vision of Europe's future
is as illusory as the images of grandeur reflected in that glorious glassy
enfilade over the centuries past. The latest Franco-German plan to reform the
European Union smacks of the sort of compromise that creates more mirage than
clarity (see article).
For sure, goodwill between the two ancient rivals must be applauded. The
foundation of peace in western Europe that has been unshaken for more than a
half a century—a peerless record—was hewn by far-sighted and big-hearted
Frenchmen and Germans, albeit with help from generous Americans and others,
and has been fortified by the emergence of the EU alongside the protective
carapace of NATO. But those whose vision of peace generated a desire for ever
closer union between Europe's nations have become victims of their own success.
A club soon to number 25 countries, with new ones from central Europe, can no
longer be driven just by a Franco-German motor. As Europe has changed shape
since communism fizzled, new differences have emerged. France, in the end, is
still a country that believes in having its own foreign policy (witness its
divergence with Germany over Iraq) and in a Europe of nations. Germany tends
to believe in a nation of Europe—and in ever closer union.
This dichotomy was highlighted by the muddled suggestion, put forward this
week in the two countries' joint name, that the European Commission, which
ought really to be a civil service, albeit one with powers to initiate
legislative ideas, should have a president elected by Europe's parliament, to
give it more legitimacy and clout. To compound the muddle, it was also
suggested, as the other half of the bargain, that the European Council, where
the ministers of elected governments of all the member-countries meet, should
have an elected president, to assert a collective authority for Europe's
nations. Having two elected presidents would certainly balance powers, but it
is surely a recipe for conflict, stalemate or just confusion. It also
threatens to replicate the current ambiguity over who runs Europe's foreign
policy, insofar as it has one: an external-affairs boss within the commission
(currently Chris Patten) or a “high representative” designated by the EU's
component governments (Javier Solana).
This latest compromise may carry weight at the convention in Brussels where a
constitutional blueprint is in draft. The French and Germans would like, in
Versailles, to herald its progress. Its laudable aim is to enhance clarity,
democracy and efficiency within the EU, especially as it expands to take in
new members. Plainly a battle is still in swing between those, led by the
Germans, who want tighter integration, in economic (including tax) matters and
in foreign policy too, and those, led by Britain, with Spain alongside, who
want looser arrangements. France, on the face of things, has bowed this week
to German wishes to bolster the commission as a motor of integration. Yet the
nation-staters, who must still count France among their number, are well in
contention. A bigger voice for the European Council helps their cause. By
contrast, the latest awkward compromise would, in essence, produce a
two-headed beast. Europe is already, necessarily, a hybrid. But even a hybrid
needs to know who is in charge.
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