Brussels diary

Schröder's shrinking speech
December 20, 2003

Schröder's shrinking speech
Germany is clearly preparing to join France in a final trashing of the stability and growth pact, which is meant to prevent any eurozone country from running a budget deficit of more than 3 per cent of GDP - on pain of large fines. Since both countries are incapable of sticking to these rules - and are damned if they are going to write a cheque for billions of euros to the European commission - the only solution is to break the pact, regardless of what the commission or the European Central Bank or small countries think. For the French, who never believed in the pact anyway and who are used to brazening out violations of EU law, this is no problem. For the Germans, who believe in rules (particularly ones they have written themselves), the final rupture with the pact will be a painful moment.
A hint of just how self-conscious they are feeling came recently when the Economist's Berlin bureau rang Gerhard Schröder's office in Berlin to check a quote from a 1999 speech by the chancellor, in which he had stressed how the coming of the euro would mean abandoning "erroneous ideas of national sovereignty." At first, the chancellor's office was only too happy to confirm the quote and helpfully pointed to the speech on the chancellor's website. But a few hours later, the Economist got a call from the federal press office - claiming that the text on the website had been wrong. It was swiftly taken down and a new version was posted, minus the offending words on national sovereignty.

The Nato battle gets personal
Nicholas Burns, the smooth-talking, babyfaced American ambassador to Nato, has called the Franco-German plan to set up an EU military headquarters in Tervuren, a suburb of Brussels, "one of the greatest dangers to the western alliance." For Burns there is literally no getting away from the issue. His ambassadorial residence - Truman Hall - is also in Tervuren, very close to the disused officers' club that has been marked out as a potential military HQ for the EU. One of the ambassador's colleagues is only mildly overstating the case when he says - "Nick could hit their HQ with a baseball chucked out of his backyard." Mind you Burns has quite a backyard - it stretches for acres. Security also dictates that his house can only be approached via a long, winding driveway, manned by shaven-headed men cackling into walkie-talkies. The house was bought for the US government in the 1950s from a Belgian businessmen who had made his fortune in chocolate. Perhaps that explains why the Americans have chosen to call the four countries planning to set up a military HQ in Tervuren the "chocolate summiteers."
Burns's fierce opposition to the plan has irked some of his European colleagues, who had assumed their US counterpart was an emollient state department type, rather than a Pentagon axeman. "Burns," complains an EU diplomat from a chocolate-producing area, "is just a PR man for the Pentagon." Burns will doubtless be willing to take a few insults if he can prevail on the substantive issue. And here things are looking good from an American perspective. Even Guy Verhofstadt, the Belgian prime minister, appears to be backing away from the Tervuren plan. In the long term, however, the idea of an EU defence capacity independent of Nato is not going to go away. Indeed, it is already becoming one of the most sensitive issues in the negotiations over the EU's draft constitution.

More fun from Silvio
The Italian presidency of the EU is providing the expected quota of knockabout fun. Close observation of Silvio Berlusconi leads to the inescapable conclusion that the man has completely lost touch with reality, in the sense of no longer being capable of gauging the impact of his remarks on those listening to him. Thus, at the recent EU-Russia summit, Berlusconi harangued journalists with his usual bizarre complaints about bias in the Italian media (never mind that he owns half of it), along with a long defence of Vladimir Putin's actions in Chechnya and against the oligarchs. Even the normally poker-faced Putin looked embarrassed. But "Berlusca" ploughed on regardless, apparently completely unaware that linking Putin's handling of the press and big business with how things are done in Italy was doing neither side any favours.

Two faces of summit security
There is a striking contrast between the over the top security the Italians have chosen to put in place for EU summits and the more relaxed style favoured in Brussels. The opening of the constitutional conference was staged in a remote suburb of Rome; three metro stations were closed down and a huge security zone was established stretching for kilometres. By contrast, when the EU road-show reassembled in Brussels less than a fortnight later, the meeting took place in the Justus Lipsius building, smack in the centre of the city. Schuman metro, just opposite the conference centre, remained open for business. All charmingly relaxed. Still, in these post-9/11 days, one can't help wondering whether the Belgians aren't a bit too relaxed. Almost all summits will now take place in the Justus Lipsius. In normal times you do not even need a security pass to enter the building, which has several shops in its foyer. Things are tightened up a couple of days before a summit takes place, but the rest of the time any passing member of al Qaeda is welcome to walk right in and case the joint.