When Angela Merkel visited Paris in July, the French press were interested in only one thing: if she won the election in September, would the Franco-German "motor" survive? To some, even in Germany, the idea of the motor may seem abstract, but to many French the alliance is essential to their vision of Europe.
In the aftermath of the second world war, France distrusted Germany, keeping her weak, working with Britain at an anti-German alliance. But as the years went by, it became clear that Britain would not give up the special relationship with America, so France had to look elsewhere to make a stronger Europe: "The prospect of German values combined with French values is dazzling," said De Gaulle. "In a modern economic, social, strategic manner it would pick up the threads of the enterprise begun by Charlemagne."
But first the French had to be reconciled with the people who had invaded them three times in 70 years: "My grandfather's generation hated the Germans," my deputé Jacques Godfrain told me. "Salauds de boches: the German was a savage, a monster." The first step towards reconciliation was not political but, heavy with symbolism, mass in Reims Cathedral, De Gaulle standing shoulder to shoulder with Adenauer, in 1962. The effect on France was electric. Two months later, De Gaulle and Adenauer discussed political rapprochement in Paris. Finally, in January 1963, the Elysée treaty created formal bonds between the two former enemies – bonds which were to become the notorious motor.
The Elysée treaty has had practical benefits – principally for France. German machine tools helped French industry produce world-class cars, trains and aeroplanes, while British equivalents sank. Airbus was first of all a Franco-German consortium. EADS has French and German joint chairmen and joint CEOs. During the 1970s and 1980s, the French grew strong on the back of German industrial might, enabling them to create their Europe, while the Germans gained influence and legitimacy from French diplomacy.
Aware that reconciliation needs symbols, French and German leaders have made regular public displays of closeness: De Gaulle and Adenauer, Giscard and Schmidt, Mitterrand and Köhl, now Chirac and Schröder. 22 years after the mass at Reims, President Mitterrand dug into the French psyche: during a service commemorating the 70th anniversary of the battle Verdun, icon of French memory, he held hands with Chancellor Köhl. This was a simple gesture, but resonated deeply among a people reminded daily of their war dead: in rural France there are more names on the monument des morts than on the electoral roll.
But when Köhl decided to reunify Germany, Mitterrand was horrified. Afraid that France would be marginalised, he seized on a single European currency as the way to retain influence over German policy. Mitterand made it clear that he would not accept German unification unless Germany gave up the deutschmark and allowed a European bank (under a Frenchman, Paris assumed) to control German monetary policy. Once Köhl agreed, the single currency became inevitable – with Britain left outside the door.
But within two years of the euro's birth, France and Germany were demanding changes to the fiscal rules they had created but were unable to keep. To the fury of some smaller countries in Europe, the motor had become a steamroller. This is precisely why Angela Merkel wants to broaden the consultative platform, implicitly ending 40 years of Franco-German hegemony. But for Chirac this would spell disaster: French influence, already weakened by the referendum, would fall further. The motor with Germany is his last card. Does Merkel have the strength to resist Chirac's forceful, sometimes seductive, sometimes bully-boy advances? After all, when Schröder was elected in 1998, many Europeans saw him as an ally of Blair: reforming the Cap, forging a Bonn-London axis. Close to panic, Chirac turned on the charm, and the result is history: regular Franco-German summits, as often as every six weeks, have given Chirac a huge influence over Schröder, enabling him to change the chancellor's mind literally overnight. In a Brussels hotel in October 2002, Chirac persuaded Schröder to drop German interests in favour of backing him in a "ruthless coup" against Blair, refusing all reform to the Cap. "Without the Franco-German accord," Chirac quipped merrily the next day, "Europe grinds to a halt."
Merkel knows Chirac is right, but she, rather than crowing about it, sees it as Europe's major problem. The dilemma is clearly expressed by another politician, one who has been an elected representative in both France and Germany and may even be a French presidential candidate in 2007: "France and Germany can no longer act alone in the EU, but without them nothing would function either. Given the world situation, the Franco-German friendship is going to get even more important." Ironically, in his youth, Daniel Cohn-Bendit - the speaker of these words - led the battle to bring down the man who conceived the Franco-German motor, and was even expelled from France by him. Clearly, that is what De Gaulle meant by reconciling former enemies.
