What David Cameron needs to know about Brussels
British prime ministers have triumphed in the past but that’s no guarantee of future success.
December 17, 2015
Politico EU
For journalists, most meetings of the European Council have their longueurs — those periods when time stands still, nothing seems to happen, your focus blurs and — voila! — you’ve lost another few hours of your life.
In the old days, it was handy to have a good book with you: it would pass the time while you waited for that Jacques Chirac press conference that was always later than billed. It might comfort you while Silvio Berlusconi contrived to delay everything — except, memorably, in December 2003 when he was chairing negotiations on new voting arrangements, made no progress and sent everyone home early.
A title like A la Recherche du Temps Perdumight seem appropriate, but it reeks of pretentiousness or chutzpah to read an utterly unrelated book. Belatedly, a book has just been published that I would once have deemed well-suited as a summit accompaniment — a collection of essays with the title “National leaders and the making of Europe — key episodes in the life of the European Council.”
The essays have been written by veterans of the EU scene; diplomats and civil servants, some of them retired, some of them still in the service of the Council. And they look back on what they considered were the crucial turning points in the development of the European Council and indeed the EU, from 1974 to 2012.
Cameron’s moment
It is almost impossible to read this book unaffected by a sense that another key episode in the life of the European Council is imminent. At some point soon — if not this week, then perhaps in February — there will be a showdown of sorts on ‘concessions’ to be made to the U.K. that might help David Cameron win a referendum on EU membership. So where might Cameron look in this book for lessons on winning?
It is a recurring feature of these essays that, at the end of summits, the civil servants struggle to piece together exactly what the government leaders are supposed to have agreed.
The most natural place might be a chapter about the meeting in June 1984 at Fontainebleau where Margaret Thatcher famously demanded her money back and won the U.K. rebate. But Poul Skytte Christoffersen explains how long the deal was in the making (five years), how chaotic it was in the final stages, and he plays up the backlash against Thatcher in future EU negotiations. Hardly a model that Cameron can hope to follow — more of a warning to his negotiating partners. Incidentally, it is a recurring feature of these essays that, at the end of summits, the civil servants struggle to piece together exactly what the government leaders are supposed to have agreed.
The chapters on a December 2000 meeting in Nice (the longest ever European Council) and the June 2007 meeting in Brussels (which agreed on what became the Lisbon Treaty) are a reminder (if any were needed) as to why other member countries would be reluctant to revise the EU’s treaties. The authors of the latter chapter — Pierre de Boissieu and Thérèse Blanchet — underline that for Angela Merkel, who was chairing discussions because Germany held the presidency of the Council, the chief obstacle to an agreement was the Polish government, led by the Kaczyński brothers (whose Law and Justice party has just returned to power in Warsaw).
It is no longer the case that the European Council deliberates in splendid isolation and at the end of its deliberations issues conclusions that will shape the EU for the coming years.
For Cameron, perhaps the chapter on Maastricht (December 1992) is more comforting: the story of how John Major triumphed in winning various opt-outs. But to read Skytte Christoffersen’s account, which brings out the extent to which Major’s counterparts wanted to find him a deal, is to provoke questions about how many of Cameron’s counterparts want to help him — and how much.
Another of the persistent themes of these essays is the extent to which personalities do matter. A few people (and this is a common complaint about the EU) have at times decided the fate of Europe. That arguably improves Cameron’s chances of exacting concessions from fellow members of the Council. But the odds are slimmer than they were for Thatcher or Major. Only three of the 17 episodes examined in this book date from the post-2004 era. Plainly, European Council negotiations were mathematically simpler when the EU comprised only 15 states, or nine or six, rather than today’s 28.
It is almost impossible to read this book unaffected by a sense that another key episode in the life of the European Council is imminent. At some point soon — if not this week, then perhaps in February — there will be a showdown of sorts on ‘concessions’ to be made to the U.K. that might help David Cameron win a referendum on EU membership. So where might Cameron look in this book for lessons on winning?
It is a recurring feature of these essays that, at the end of summits, the civil servants struggle to piece together exactly what the government leaders are supposed to have agreed.
The most natural place might be a chapter about the meeting in June 1984 at Fontainebleau where Margaret Thatcher famously demanded her money back and won the U.K. rebate. But Poul Skytte Christoffersen explains how long the deal was in the making (five years), how chaotic it was in the final stages, and he plays up the backlash against Thatcher in future EU negotiations. Hardly a model that Cameron can hope to follow — more of a warning to his negotiating partners. Incidentally, it is a recurring feature of these essays that, at the end of summits, the civil servants struggle to piece together exactly what the government leaders are supposed to have agreed.
The chapters on a December 2000 meeting in Nice (the longest ever European Council) and the June 2007 meeting in Brussels (which agreed on what became the Lisbon Treaty) are a reminder (if any were needed) as to why other member countries would be reluctant to revise the EU’s treaties. The authors of the latter chapter — Pierre de Boissieu and Thérèse Blanchet — underline that for Angela Merkel, who was chairing discussions because Germany held the presidency of the Council, the chief obstacle to an agreement was the Polish government, led by the Kaczyński brothers (whose Law and Justice party has just returned to power in Warsaw).
It is no longer the case that the European Council deliberates in splendid isolation and at the end of its deliberations issues conclusions that will shape the EU for the coming years.
For Cameron, perhaps the chapter on Maastricht (December 1992) is more comforting: the story of how John Major triumphed in winning various opt-outs. But to read Skytte Christoffersen’s account, which brings out the extent to which Major’s counterparts wanted to find him a deal, is to provoke questions about how many of Cameron’s counterparts want to help him — and how much.
Another of the persistent themes of these essays is the extent to which personalities do matter. A few people (and this is a common complaint about the EU) have at times decided the fate of Europe. That arguably improves Cameron’s chances of exacting concessions from fellow members of the Council. But the odds are slimmer than they were for Thatcher or Major. Only three of the 17 episodes examined in this book date from the post-2004 era. Plainly, European Council negotiations were mathematically simpler when the EU comprised only 15 states, or nine or six, rather than today’s 28.
The end of isolation
There is another reason why I believe Cameron’s negotiating task is much harder than, say, for his predecessors at Nice or Maastricht. That reason is not examined by the contributors to the book, though the introduction does cover attempts by Council presidents to revive the informality and intimacy of some distant golden era, notably in the Hampton Court summit of 2005. Put simply, it is no longer the case that the European Council deliberates in splendid isolation and at the end of its deliberations issues conclusions that will shape the EU for the coming years. The flow of information between members of the European Council and the world outside has intensified and accelerated in recent years, driven by digital technology.
In the old days, it was handy to have a good book with you. Nowadays, journalists covering a European Council fill the longueurs by swapping speculation, rumor and the occasional fact on Twitter. The live blogs never sleep and the 24-hour news cycle demands constant updates.
In a way that was unthinkable at Hampton Court, government leaders are now texting and tweeting from inside the Council chamber. In 2010, Herman Van Rompuy signed up to Twitter as president of the European Council and journalists covering the discussions were obliged to track his messages. The trend was accelerated by the arrival of Twitter-savvy politicians — the likes of Alex Stubb (Finnish prime minister 2014-15) and Taavi Rõivas (Estonian prime minister since 2014).
In March 2011, Catherine Ashton, the then EU foreign policy chief, was embarrassed by a briefing given by one of her spokespeople, Darren Ennis, which was dismissive of calls by Nicolas Sarkozy and Cameron to establish a no-fly-zone in Iraq. When journalists reported this briefing, Sarkozy and Cameron confronted Ashton, during the course of the Council. So government leaders are not only reporting the negotiations as they happen; they are also responding to reporting of the events that they are participating in.
None of that will make Cameron’s task any easier, nor, crucially, his subsequent presentation of the results of those negotiations. Before he has left the negotiating chamber, the derisive hashtags will have circumnavigated the world.
There is another reason why I believe Cameron’s negotiating task is much harder than, say, for his predecessors at Nice or Maastricht. That reason is not examined by the contributors to the book, though the introduction does cover attempts by Council presidents to revive the informality and intimacy of some distant golden era, notably in the Hampton Court summit of 2005. Put simply, it is no longer the case that the European Council deliberates in splendid isolation and at the end of its deliberations issues conclusions that will shape the EU for the coming years. The flow of information between members of the European Council and the world outside has intensified and accelerated in recent years, driven by digital technology.
In the old days, it was handy to have a good book with you. Nowadays, journalists covering a European Council fill the longueurs by swapping speculation, rumor and the occasional fact on Twitter. The live blogs never sleep and the 24-hour news cycle demands constant updates.
In a way that was unthinkable at Hampton Court, government leaders are now texting and tweeting from inside the Council chamber. In 2010, Herman Van Rompuy signed up to Twitter as president of the European Council and journalists covering the discussions were obliged to track his messages. The trend was accelerated by the arrival of Twitter-savvy politicians — the likes of Alex Stubb (Finnish prime minister 2014-15) and Taavi Rõivas (Estonian prime minister since 2014).
In March 2011, Catherine Ashton, the then EU foreign policy chief, was embarrassed by a briefing given by one of her spokespeople, Darren Ennis, which was dismissive of calls by Nicolas Sarkozy and Cameron to establish a no-fly-zone in Iraq. When journalists reported this briefing, Sarkozy and Cameron confronted Ashton, during the course of the Council. So government leaders are not only reporting the negotiations as they happen; they are also responding to reporting of the events that they are participating in.
None of that will make Cameron’s task any easier, nor, crucially, his subsequent presentation of the results of those negotiations. Before he has left the negotiating chamber, the derisive hashtags will have circumnavigated the world.
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