Charlemagne
The two-speed myth
Jul 5th 2007
From The Economist print edition
Revived threats of a two-speed Europe need not be taken too seriously
BRUSSELS has played host to many lost causes over the years. Charlemagne's favourite is the harmlessly dotty rattachiste movement, which seeks to split Belgium into two—a Dutch-speaking north and a French-speaking south—and then ask France to absorb the second as an extension of its territory. It is a doomed campaign, not least because France shows no enthusiasm for it. Yet over 26,000 Belgians voted for the main rattachiste party in last month's general election. This makes no sense, until one realises that those voters do not really believe they will be joining France any time soon. Their vote is rather a Francophone bellow of frustration at the dominance of Dutch-speakers in an increasingly divided country.
Unexpectedly, Charlemagne has been reminded of these frustrated voters in the past few days, as a string of European Union leaders have declared that a “two-speed Europe” is at hand. This is a code phrase meaning that a hard core of enthusiastic states must now push ahead with more integration, leaving backmarkers in the rest of the 27 to catch up if they wish. It is stirring stuff, but there is a small problem. Just as France is in no hurry to annex southern Belgium, so there is no sign of a workable inner core of integrationists.
Contemplating the squabbles at the EU summit last month, one senior official comments sardonically that “you could find a pioneer group for going backwards, but for going forwards? I don't think there is one.”
So why the new talk of a two-speed Europe? It reflects that bellow of frustration by people who feel they are being overlooked. Many Euro-enthusiasts were angry about the concessions handed to Britain and other troublemakers at the summit to win their support for a new treaty to replace the defunct constitution. Such leaders as Romano Prodi of Italy and Jean-Claude Juncker of Luxembourg now point menacingly to rules in the draft treaty to make it easier to form pioneer groups. Valéry Giscard d'Estaing, a former French president who chaired the convention that drafted the original constitution, declared after the summit that, if Britain “no longer wishes to participate in moves towards European integration”, it should be offered a “special status” separate from the rest of the EU.
The idea of a “core Europe” was first given a wide airing in a 1994 paper by two German Christian Democrats, Wolfgang Schäuble and Karl Lamers. They argued for a pioneer group that would exert a “magnetic power” on more hesitant states. Their proposed core consisted of the five countries judged ready for currency union: France, Germany and the Benelux trio.
Today Mr Lamers concedes that his old core would no longer work, not least because Benelux has broken down. Dutch voters rejected the constitution in a 2005 referendum, and the Belgian prime minister ended the EU summit shouting at his Dutch counterpart about his lack of European fervour. “At this moment, the Netherlands is in a deep crisis over its identity, I regret it very much,” Mr Lamers says. Perhaps, he suggests hopefully, Italy, Finland, Austria and Spain could join France, Germany, Belgium and Luxembourg in a new core instead.
Perhaps, but to do what? The Brussels consensus has it that three policy areas are ripe for pushing ahead. Yet thanks to disputes between the various countries that would be needed for a credible core, none of the three could work in practice.
The first involves members of the single currency aligning their economic policies more closely. This has always seemed implausible, because of Franco-German differences over how much control of economic policy to hand to the politicians. Right now, it is unthinkable: France's new president, Nicolas Sarkozy, has united much of the rest of the euro area against him by demanding much more political meddling and economic rule-bending in pursuit of faster growth.
A second idea would be to set up a core to co-operate on such matters as criminal justice and immigration. But much of the feasible work in this field has been done. Border controls have been scrapped across most of the old EU (although not by Britain and Ireland). All 27 members have agreed to Europe-wide arrest warrants for those suspected of serious villainy. The possible next steps are either too hard, even for pioneers (eg, building a single legal system), or too footling to turn into the foundations of a two-speed Europe.
Fighting, but not without Britain
That leaves a third area: defence. Imagine, suggests Mr Lamers, that France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Belgium and Austria built a “common core” of a European army. “It would be of an unbelievable weight.” Yet in the real world only two-and-a-half EU countries have serious global military capability: Britain, France and Germany (the half, hamstrung by post-war pacifism). Britain is certainly not about to sign up to a European army. Even France's military bosses have their doubts: one officer says that creating a European army without full EU political integration would be “putting the cart before the horses”.
All in all, concludes a German official, “if it were easy to have a pioneer group, it would have happened already in the last few years.” Angela Merkel, Germany's chancellor, has slapped down talk of a two-speed Europe, fearing that it could alarm new members from eastern Europe. “I have no truck with that,” Ms Merkel told the European Parliament, as she handed over the rotating EU presidency to Portugal last week.
So is a two-speed Europe impossible? Not quite. European officials have discussed among themselves what might happen in the (admittedly unlikely) event that domestic politics forces Britain's new prime minister, Gordon Brown, to hold a referendum on the new treaty. If Britain were to vote no to a treaty that is already a painful compromise, Europe would enter uncharted waters. And keeping the EU moving at a single pace might then become Brussels's latest lost cause.
economist.com
The two-speed myth
Jul 5th 2007
From The Economist print edition
Revived threats of a two-speed Europe need not be taken too seriously
BRUSSELS has played host to many lost causes over the years. Charlemagne's favourite is the harmlessly dotty rattachiste movement, which seeks to split Belgium into two—a Dutch-speaking north and a French-speaking south—and then ask France to absorb the second as an extension of its territory. It is a doomed campaign, not least because France shows no enthusiasm for it. Yet over 26,000 Belgians voted for the main rattachiste party in last month's general election. This makes no sense, until one realises that those voters do not really believe they will be joining France any time soon. Their vote is rather a Francophone bellow of frustration at the dominance of Dutch-speakers in an increasingly divided country.
Unexpectedly, Charlemagne has been reminded of these frustrated voters in the past few days, as a string of European Union leaders have declared that a “two-speed Europe” is at hand. This is a code phrase meaning that a hard core of enthusiastic states must now push ahead with more integration, leaving backmarkers in the rest of the 27 to catch up if they wish. It is stirring stuff, but there is a small problem. Just as France is in no hurry to annex southern Belgium, so there is no sign of a workable inner core of integrationists.
Contemplating the squabbles at the EU summit last month, one senior official comments sardonically that “you could find a pioneer group for going backwards, but for going forwards? I don't think there is one.”
So why the new talk of a two-speed Europe? It reflects that bellow of frustration by people who feel they are being overlooked. Many Euro-enthusiasts were angry about the concessions handed to Britain and other troublemakers at the summit to win their support for a new treaty to replace the defunct constitution. Such leaders as Romano Prodi of Italy and Jean-Claude Juncker of Luxembourg now point menacingly to rules in the draft treaty to make it easier to form pioneer groups. Valéry Giscard d'Estaing, a former French president who chaired the convention that drafted the original constitution, declared after the summit that, if Britain “no longer wishes to participate in moves towards European integration”, it should be offered a “special status” separate from the rest of the EU.
The idea of a “core Europe” was first given a wide airing in a 1994 paper by two German Christian Democrats, Wolfgang Schäuble and Karl Lamers. They argued for a pioneer group that would exert a “magnetic power” on more hesitant states. Their proposed core consisted of the five countries judged ready for currency union: France, Germany and the Benelux trio.
Today Mr Lamers concedes that his old core would no longer work, not least because Benelux has broken down. Dutch voters rejected the constitution in a 2005 referendum, and the Belgian prime minister ended the EU summit shouting at his Dutch counterpart about his lack of European fervour. “At this moment, the Netherlands is in a deep crisis over its identity, I regret it very much,” Mr Lamers says. Perhaps, he suggests hopefully, Italy, Finland, Austria and Spain could join France, Germany, Belgium and Luxembourg in a new core instead.
Perhaps, but to do what? The Brussels consensus has it that three policy areas are ripe for pushing ahead. Yet thanks to disputes between the various countries that would be needed for a credible core, none of the three could work in practice.
The first involves members of the single currency aligning their economic policies more closely. This has always seemed implausible, because of Franco-German differences over how much control of economic policy to hand to the politicians. Right now, it is unthinkable: France's new president, Nicolas Sarkozy, has united much of the rest of the euro area against him by demanding much more political meddling and economic rule-bending in pursuit of faster growth.
A second idea would be to set up a core to co-operate on such matters as criminal justice and immigration. But much of the feasible work in this field has been done. Border controls have been scrapped across most of the old EU (although not by Britain and Ireland). All 27 members have agreed to Europe-wide arrest warrants for those suspected of serious villainy. The possible next steps are either too hard, even for pioneers (eg, building a single legal system), or too footling to turn into the foundations of a two-speed Europe.
Fighting, but not without Britain
That leaves a third area: defence. Imagine, suggests Mr Lamers, that France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Belgium and Austria built a “common core” of a European army. “It would be of an unbelievable weight.” Yet in the real world only two-and-a-half EU countries have serious global military capability: Britain, France and Germany (the half, hamstrung by post-war pacifism). Britain is certainly not about to sign up to a European army. Even France's military bosses have their doubts: one officer says that creating a European army without full EU political integration would be “putting the cart before the horses”.
All in all, concludes a German official, “if it were easy to have a pioneer group, it would have happened already in the last few years.” Angela Merkel, Germany's chancellor, has slapped down talk of a two-speed Europe, fearing that it could alarm new members from eastern Europe. “I have no truck with that,” Ms Merkel told the European Parliament, as she handed over the rotating EU presidency to Portugal last week.
So is a two-speed Europe impossible? Not quite. European officials have discussed among themselves what might happen in the (admittedly unlikely) event that domestic politics forces Britain's new prime minister, Gordon Brown, to hold a referendum on the new treaty. If Britain were to vote no to a treaty that is already a painful compromise, Europe would enter uncharted waters. And keeping the EU moving at a single pace might then become Brussels's latest lost cause.
economist.com