The rejection of the EU constitution by the voters of France and the Netherlands invites Europe's leaders to think again about the way in which the European project has developed. Since I hope that, come the German election in September, you will be the freshest face in those ranks, I want to remind you that—in spite of the caricatures—the British have positive things to say about Europe, many of which I know will chime with your own views.
On the subject of caricatures, here is the new French prime minister, Dominique de Villepin, in his book L'Homme Européen, written to support the "oui" in the French referendum: "We do not want a liberal Europe—which would signify the victory of the British vision of Europe as a mere market, as opposed to the political vision which has always guided the Franco-German couple." This supposed dichotomy between the alleged British interest in Europe only as a "market" and the commitment of the continental powers to a "political Europe" is a cliché not only in France but also in Germany. It is also a cliché which has been instrumentalised. One of the leitmotifs of the French referendum, on both sides, was the need to mobilise Europe against les Anglo-Saxons. I hope you will agree with me that whipping up hostility to the British and the Americans is not a constructive way of promoting European unity.
Nonetheless, it seems to me that the debate about Europe's future is destined to follow a Hegelian pattern. From the classes in dialectical materialism you were obliged to attend in your youth in East Germany, you will remember that history is supposed to proceed from thesis to antithesis and thence to synthesis. There are two opposed theses emerging—one French, the other British—and it will fall to your German government to decide the synthesis.
The appointment of De Villepin as prime minister suggests that, at least until President Chirac departs in 2007—when Nicolas Sarkozy may reopen the whole question—the French thesis will be that the French non was a vote for more Europe, not less. The French have voted against enlargement and for their social model—and this is what Europe must now deliver. It is too late to repudiate the enlargements of 2004, but the planned Balkan enlargements should be delayed and the Turkish application put on ice. Within the EU of 25 there should be a reinforcement of social protections, perhaps within a new core group of the "eurocentre." The market liberalisation programme of the European commission under José Barroso should be switched off. Meanwhile, the "Franco-German couple" should lead the eurozone into a concerted Keynesian reflation backed up by sectoral industrial policies and the political determination that the European Central Bank should cut interest rates aggressively. On the back of a vigorous campaign along these lines, Europe's sense of direction will be restored, French leadership will be reasserted—and it may even be possible to revive the constitution, win a second referendum in France, and perhaps even a third term for Jacques Chirac.
The contrasting British thesis is that Europe has become unpopular because it is associated with the failure of the governments in France, Germany and elsewhere to deliver higher rates of employment and a sense of confidence about the future. In the Netherlands there are concerns about national identity and about the willingness of France and Germany to abide by the European rules (the stability and growth pact). Big business in France and Germany continues to compete successfully but does not create jobs, and for a host of reasons the service sector is not taking up the job-creation slack. There is a case for a more co-ordinated EU macroeconomic policy. But the creation of an economic core group would be a potential impediment to the labour market and tax reforms needed for higher growth and job creation. These reforms will have to be made in accordance with local traditions at national level. The task of Europe is to encourage the reforms and not to handicap the growth potential of the new members. As for the enlargement negotiations, they should continue, on a longer timescale. As growth and confidence return, it will again be possible to pick up the threads of the debate about the institutional organisation of Europe. But the institutional debate is also in danger of becoming a diversion (even though it would, of course, be useful to salvage some parts of the constitution that improve the functioning of the EU). For too long Europe has put politics before economics: the message of the French and Dutch referendums is that future political advances depend upon greater economic success.
As you weigh the choice between these two contending theses, I would also urge you to consider something else: how the British experience can offer hope for the European social model.
According to the caricature, Britain is the home of ultra-liberalism and social dumping. The truth is that Britain today is running its own version of the social market economy invented by Ludwig Erhard in Germany in the 1950s. A big increase in social spending, which among other things is sharply reducing poverty among children and pensioners, is happening in Britain without weakening the flexibility of the economy and its capacity for job creation.
I know that you are sometimes compared with Margaret Thatcher—and that this is not altogether helpful to you, since the image of the iron lady is bound up with the caricature of British ultra-liberalism. But to get the right perspective we should recall some recent history.
In the early 1950s, when Germany pioneered the social market, Britain and France were partly "socialising" their economies. Through the 1950s and 1960s, while West Germany prospered, British industry was scarred by battles over union power and ownership of industry—the British steel industry was renationalised in 1967, and the leading car manufacturer was taken into state ownership as recently as 1975. France, by contrast, had rather more success than Britain with its version of state capitalism. Partly for that reason, important sectors of the French economy are still in state ownership, and the influence of the political and administrative elite in French business life remains enormous.
Under Thatcher the British state gave up the role of proprietor of the economy and adopted, as in Germany, the role of economic and social regulator. The result, as Erhard would have predicted, has been increased economic prosperity—and more recently higher social spending under Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. (Admittedly from a far lower base than in Germany, spending on the health service in Britain has doubled since 1997.)
If the challenge in Britain was to move from a state-dominated market economy to the social market, the problem in Germany today is to restore the balance between the "social" and the "market." As you put it when you accepted nomination as the CDU-CSU candidate for chancellor, your task is to "speak for those who do not have lobbies to speak for them."
There is no single European social model. But if comparisons are made, I hope that you will bear in mind that there is a more fundamental similarity between the British and German social market approach than there is between the social market and French étatisme. This was the basis of the unlikely alliance between Helmut Kohl—your mentor—and Margaret Thatcher in the 1980s in support of the European single market. Let it be remembered that, at the height of Thatcherism, this resulted in the biggest ever extension of the scope of qualified majority voting in the European council of ministers. And it could be the basis for a revival of this German-British partnership over the years ahead, as Germany, under your leadership, embarks on rebalancing its version—the original version—of the social market model.
Another aspect of the caricature of Britain is that we do not share a political vision of Europe. Britain, it is said, is in principle hostile to a European foreign policy and rejects political integration.
Yet in the mid-1950s it was the British plan for a western European defence union which opened the way for German rearmament, in the face of French opposition. After the French quit the integrated military structure of Nato in the mid-1960s, Britain and Germany were the chief European partners in that alliance. Both Thatcher and Mitterrand wobbled in 1989 when German unification became feasible. But the British subsequently gave consistent support to Germany's key decisions. The British played a leading part in setting up the common foreign and security policy pillar of the Maastricht treaty in 1992. Alongside France, Britain was the leading contributor to the first European foreign policy ventures in the Balkans. And in 1998 Blair put aside British doubts about French intentions, and agreed with Chirac at St Malo on the setting up of an institutional framework for European defence co-operation. Today, British, German, and French forces are side by side in the Balkans and in Afghanistan, and the foreign ministers of the three countries are pursuing a common approach in attempting to persuade Iran not to acquire nuclear weapons.
In foreign policy terms, in what sense can it be said that Britain does not share in what De Villepin calls "the political vision which has always guided the Franco-German couple"? Until the controversy over the Iraq war, Britain and Germany were both agreed, unlike France, that their primary security partner was the US. Chancellor Schröder's decision to side with Paris against Washington and London, taken amid the storm and stress of an election campaign, was the first time since the 1940s that Germany had made such a choice, and I know that you hope that such a choice will not have to be made again.
At the heart of the French idea of a European political vision uniting "the Franco-German couple" and excluding Britain is a concept of Europe which is not European but French. Here is De Villepin again: "France's place is at the head of Europe," which must move rapidly to become a "power… because the great international poles are now being constituted around the American continent and the Asiatic world, and the European continent can play the pivotal role if it gives itself the means—especially an ambitious partnership with Russia." The political vision here is that of General De Gaulle in the 1960s—an understanding between France and Russia in opposition to the US, but with France still guaranteed by American protection. In the updated version of this approach, the collapse of the Soviet Union ended the requirement for American protection (although it is still taken for granted), and in the understanding with Russia, France is now joined by Germany. Thus Germany's important bilateral relations, not only with the US but also with Russia, are to be subordinated to a fantastic French Weltpolitik.
Since it may fall to your government to make decisive choices, it is important to spell out the alternative British vision of a European foreign policy. Part of the caricature of British foreign policy is that it is uniquely selfish and exclusively dedicated—here the critic takes his choice—either to vile commerce or to the cynical manipulation of the balance of power in pursuit of national interests. In fact, at least since Britain organised the great coalition against Napoleon in 1812-15, one of the chief purposes of British foreign policy has been to institutionalise the rule of law in European and world affairs. Britain took the lead in this great project, from the Concert of Europe in the 1820s and the suppression of the slave trade by the Royal Navy to the beginnings of the world court in the 1890s, and from the League of Nations in the 1920s to the Bretton Woods institutions and the UN in 1944-45. In 1914, and again in 1939, Britain went to war in defence of a "scrap of paper." The relatively peaceful transition from the empire to the commonwealth tells the same story, of a civilised process leading to institutionalised international co-operation under the rule of law.
In all this, the British have always understood the importance of the US. The American "world-island" can do without the rest of us. It has the freedom to choose isolation, as in 1914-17, 1920-41, and 1945-46. Or, at least since 1989, it has the power to act unilaterally and without regard for the constraints of international governance. Ever since Lloyd George worked with Woodrow Wilson to create the League of Nations, the British have regarded the rallying of American support for multilateralism as a key objective of their foreign policy. Blair's decision in 2003 to ally with the US over Iraq on condition that the Americans worked through the UN continued this tradition, and renewed it for another generation. The more multilateralist foreign policy of the second Bush presidency is some evidence for the success of this British strategy of working intimately with the US—a history for which the Germans (and French) have reasons to be grateful.
In this British perspective, the key tasks in world politics today are to entrench multilateral open markets by making a success of the Doha trade round, to reinforce the authority of international treaties against nuclear proliferation, to support measures of accountable government and democratisation in the Muslim world so as to drain the poison of jihadism, to resolve the problem of Palestine, to put Africa back on the path of economic development, to address the problems of global climate change, and to ensure that as China emerges on to the world stage it embraces the western standards built up, partly under British influence, in the 20th century.
The success of all of this manifestly depends upon the US. The choice for a common European foreign policy thus boils down to this: is US power better influenced from within a strong alliance framework, as the British believe—or can it be constrained from outside, as advocated by France, seeking to create a countervailing force based on a partnership between Europe, Russia and, perhaps, China?
Britain actively wants a common European foreign policy, and we have much to contribute to it. But we do not accept that to be European is to be Euro-Gaullist. Gaullist foreign policy is as much a fantasy in 2005 as it was in the 1960s. The chief difference is that its capacity to damage the transatlantic relationship is much greater than before, since the disappearance of the Soviet Union means that America no longer needs to pay much attention to Europe and its vanities. All the more reason for the new government that I hope you will shortly be leading in Germany to return to its strategic partnerships across the Atlantic—and the Channel.
The claim that the British do not share in "the political vision which has always guided the Franco-German couple" refers, of course, not only to foreign policy but also to Europe's political constitution.
It is true that in the debates about European institution-building the British have always been gradualists. In the 1950s, doubts about the feasibility of the project led to the decision not to join. By 1960 the British had realised their mistake—but were then excluded by France (with tacit German support). When Britain did join the European community in 1973, its structures and policy had been built on French lines which were alien to British traditions.
For 30 years Britain has worked loyally within this framework. In every year since we joined, the British have been substantial net contributors to the European budget, even allowing for the rebate payments justified by imbalances arising from the common agricultural policy. Since 1973, the total British net contribution has been second only to that of Germany, and a long way ahead of that of France and all other member states. Those who know Brussels know that the British have been active in developing every area of the EU's life, and that they are "good team players."
But there has always been an inner reservation. Loud talk from British Eurosceptics about sovereignty has led to this being mistakenly identified with the souverainisme which has emerged in France. In fact the British do not share in this part-Jacobin, part-Maurrasian French sentiment. Since the union of the crowns in 1603 Britain has been a multinational state—and the British empire was the biggest multinational state-entity in history, with a single nationality embracing hundreds of millions of people across the world until as recently as 1949. But Britain (as it became) is also a land which has practised "self-government by the king's command" since the high middle ages. The British reservation about European institution-building has always been based on the problems of consent and legitimacy. The question which the British have asked at each phase of the European project has been a perfectly reasonable one—"What does this mean for democracy and accountability?" To this they have also added the insight, based on long experience, that democracy is not a mechanism but an organism, and that you cannot create democratic institutions in advance of the demos that is supposed to inhabit them.
After the French and Dutch referendums, who can say that this British instinct was mistaken? European institution-building has indeed run far ahead of popular understanding and consent, creating a situation in which there is a real danger of regression to populist, protectionist nationalism in the heart of Europe.
The british have always been sceptical about the identification of Europe with the project of building up state-type institutions on the French model. But this does not mean that they can be caricatured as having, in De Villepin's words, "a vision of Europe as a mere market."
In France the constitution was presented as a kind of closure—in the words of President Chirac, the consolidation of a Europe made "in the image of France" and embodying "the values of 1789." In Britain many of us saw it, rather, as a text which was open to the future—as a constitution should be.
Talk of "the values of 1789" reminds us that alongside the enlightenment of Jean-Jacques Rousseau there was the enlightenment of David Hume and the American federalists. This is above all sceptical—you will remember that Kant said that it was reading Hume that "woke him from his dogmatic slumbers." In politics, this scepticism translates into the philosophy of checks and balances, as opposed to the volonté générale of 1789, with all its well-known totalitarian implications.
This tradition regards institutions as being made for man—not for la gloire. At the same time, because we understand the importance of institutions we want to hold on to what is tried and familiar. Our fundamental method is experimental—trial and error. As a scientist, you will understand how this intellectual climate has made Britain and America so hospitable to science, especially to experimental science. The Anglo-Saxon countries have been successful innovators because they always prefer to take one step at a time.
Europe is a great experiment. We should advance with caution, always holding on to our precious heritage of accountable, democratic government, but at the same time always giving a consistent and reliable lead to our electorates. The emphasis should be on what works for individual Europeans and their families, a judicious combination of security and opportunity, of the "social" and the "market."
If one were to put a label on this vision of Europe, it should surely be that coined by Karl Popper when he wrote The Open Society and its Enemies in 1944. You may not have had time to read it since you became free to do so after 1989—but I hope that you will take a look at it. What Britain wants is a European open society, flourishing in a western open society that is expanding to create a worldwide open society. It is somehow fitting that this British political vision for Europe should be described in a phrase coined by an Austrian Jewish exile from the totalitarianisms of old Europe, writing from his refuge in New Zealand, the remotest of the Anglo-Saxon lands.
Yours,
Robert
