Brussels diary

The constitution's ugly language
July 19, 2003

Why such ugly language?

"Conscious that Europe is a continent that has brought forth civilisation; that its inhabitants, arriving in successive waves since the first ages of mankind, have gradually developed the values underlying humanism: equality of persons, freedom, respect for reason." There it is folks, the long-awaited opening to the great new European constitution. And there is much more in that vein, if you can face it. Europe is also characterised "by the spiritual impulse always present in its heritage." Oh lucky schoolchildren who-if Val?ry Giscard d'Estaing, the chairman of the convention, has his way-will have to learn all this guff by heart. The disappointment over the preamble has created a new band of constitutional dissidents. First came the Eurosceptics who believe the whole thing is a "blueprint for tyranny"; then the arch-federalists, who fear that they are seeing the last real chance for political union slip away. And now we have the disgruntled aesthetes, who don't seem to care about what the constitution actually says, but just wish it had been said better.

So whose fault is this linguistic atrocity? Mainly Giscard himself. Giscard appeared at one meeting of the presidium and announced that he had written a preamble, but wasn't going to show it to anyone-he wanted to see their efforts first. After collecting the scribblings of his 12 colleagues, the great man retired and then at the next meeting produced what he claimed was a synthesis-although everybody present suspected that it was more or less what he had written in the first place. So the simplest explanation for those disappointed by the language is that Giscard can't write. Then there is the translation problem-the preamble really does sound better in French. Indeed in an effort to help Tony Blair, John Kerr, Giscard's right-hand man, appears to have deliberately translated it into less than inspiring English. Thus the familiar, but controversial, phrase about "ever closer union" is rendered as "united in an ever closer fashion." (Fans of the original phrase need not worry-"ever closer union" still appears in its original form in the preamble to the charter of fundamental rights, which makes up part two of the constitution.) Kerr's sleight of word points to a larger problem-the tension between the attempt to make grand-sounding claims and the political reality that governments are scrutinising each little phrase for its potential implications. This, after all, is a legal document and such things are not famous for their prose. So for example, early drafts of the constitution laid great emphasis on the "four freedoms": free movement of persons, capital, services and goods. These freedoms, it was claimed, were the "exclusive competence" of the union. But then the lawyers began to pore over the text-pointing out that this implied abolition of all national rights to the control of borders and that maintaining freedom of movement between, say, Luton and London, was the exclusive business of the EU. So the claim had to be reworked. If the constitution reads as if it has been written by lawyers it is because it has been written by lawyers.

A higher level of confusion

For those of us who have been following the convention from its inception, the sudden spate of interest from outside Brussels is a mixed blessing. One British journalist remarks that he feels like a football fan who has loyally followed a team through the dark years in the third division, only to find himself surrounded by johnny-come-latelies when the team finally hits the big time. In theory, us old-timers should be able to take pleasure in the fact that we have a more profound understanding of what is going on-the true meaning of the creation of a single, legal personality for the EU and so on. But sadly, this is only true up to a point. Even those who have attended most sessions of the convention-and ploughed through all the working group reports-still find the big picture elusive. The best most of us can claim is to have achieved a more informed level of confusion. The constitution, after all, runs to hundreds of pages, has been through several drafts and covers a bewildering array of subjects-each of which could be highly significant or totally trivial. So you can find yourself worrying away at the decision-making procedure for foreign policy-then finding that others believe that nothing is happening over foreign policy, that the crucial bit is the legal incorporation of the charter of fundamental rights, or the creation of a new legislative council in the council of ministers. And always there is the nagging knowledge that the true significance of the changes to EU law may only emerge many years later.

I hate Juventus

If there is one man who does understand what is going on, it is probably Giuliano Amato, one of the two vice-presidents of the convention. A constitutional lawyer by training, Amato is also a politician of rare courage. This emerged when your correspondent bumped into him at a dinner on the night when AC Milan and Juventus were battling it out to be football champions of Europe. Asked how a former prime minister of Italy could skip the game, Amato replied with disarming frankness that he found football boring. Nor has he ever attempted to disguise this fact. He opened his first political campaign in Turin-home of Juventus-by announcing that "the first thing you should know about me is that I hate Juve." Who says there are no men of integrity left in European politics?