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A political union for Europe. Learn lessons from EC: A nationalist union for Indian Ocean Community.

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EU Parliament (Credit: Botond Horvath - Shutterstock.com)

Marianne and Brunhilde: The Prince and the Law, Part I 

By Riccardo Perissich | Monday, May 27, 2013
 
François Hollande's call for the eurozone to move towards political union has been described as a "turning point" in French policy. Or is it? In fact — as Riccardo Perissich explains in the first of a two part analysis — it is a belated response to similar calls made in the past by Angela Merkel. Both have left the concept largely undefined.
The reason France and Germany are so important — and vital — in the EU is to a large extent due to their propensity to disagree on virtually everything.

France and Germany are vital to the EU precisely because they disagree on virtually everything.
The alternative pursuits of "Colbertism" and of a "social market economy" are generalizations and can lead to stereotypes.

But they are not without substance.

The two countries' economic philosophies are so far apart that when they can agree on something — or increasingly anything at all — everybody else in Europe often finds the compromise acceptable.

(The United Kingdom is a special case, not relevant for this analysis).

With the signing of the Maastricht treaty, the Germans could reasonably assume that they had won the intellectual debate over economic strategy and practice in Europe once and for all.

The eurozone crisis has decided otherwise.

The rift has reappeared and is widening. Seen from Berlin, France (like other southern countries) is paying for her failure to implement the painful structural reforms that have transformed Germany from the sick man of Europe into the continent's powerhouse.

Meanwhile, terms that sound downright horrific to German ears, such as "industrial policy" and "a new mandate for the ECB," are reappearing in Paris.

After Maastricht, Germans assumed they had won the debate over economic strategy in Europe.
Seen from Paris, Germany is the prisoner of a selfish orthodoxy that prevents her from accepting that new problems require new solutions.

That is a narrative that is broadly shared by other eurozone members, leaving the Germans to feel isolated.

However, from the painful piecemeal solutions that have accompanied the European response during the last three years, a consensus seems to emerge that what is needed is "more Europe."

This implies that the euro (and indeed the entire European project) can only be saved if the move towards "political union" is made.

This is a debate that France and Germany have carefully tried to avoid ever since the days when De Gaulle launched his war against Europe's supranational institutions. Are they really ready for it now?

The conventional wisdom tells us that the Germans are instinctive European federalists, ready to replicate on a continental scale what they have at home.

The French, on the other hand — as we saw on the occasion of the referendum on the European "constitution" in May 2005 — continue to cherish unimpeded national sovereignty.

Here again, stereotypes can be misleading. France has moved a long way from Gaullist dogma, while the Germans have become more reluctant to share sovereignty (and money).

From piecemeal solutions in the crisis response, a consensus has emerged for "more Europe."
However, important differences remain. Merkel and Sarkozy seemed to agree that the solution should be found on a purely intergovernmental basis.

All the power had to be placed in the European Council, with the implication that the two countries would effectively run the show.

This plan has not worked. The French have realized that, given the power shift in favor of Germany, joint dominance is an illusion — which explains Hollande's move.

The Germans, for their part, are understandably uncomfortable with a situation where everybody else calls on them to exercise "leadership," but resents what could look like a "German Europe."

That is why many Germans would prefer a system where the ultimate decision-making responsibility would be based on common, well-legitimized institutions.

Advocates of this institutional model in Germany are expected to favor this approach because they believe that these institutions would essentially continue to sing to a German tune.

They may be surprised. "Common" institutions can develop an operating logic that can easily make them very different from that of an intergovernmental system.

The ECB is a case in point. It was designed with the Bundesbank as its institutional and cultural template.

France has realized that, given the power shift to Germany, joint dominance is an illusion.
But driven by necessity, Mario Draghi has interpreted his mandate in a rather flexible way.

He has done so with a wise political nod from Berlin, but to the horror of many in the German establishment.

More nods and more horror are likely to come in the near future.

However we define it, political union is not a small thing. It is also very possible that Europeans will miss the target.

Nevertheless, there is also the possibility that many EU nations (though not all) will be driven by necessity in that direction. If and when we come to that point, we will discover that the problem of sovereignty is only the tip of the iceberg.


Marianne and Brunhilde: The Prince and the Law, Part II
 

By Riccardo Perissich | Tuesday, May 28, 2013
 
Political union in Europe would, indeed, be no small undertaking. It's true that EU member countries are all parliamentary democracies. But as Riccardo Perissich explores in the second of a two-part series, "political power" has different meanings in the different countries.
We Europeans tend to project onto Europe the experience of our own national systems.

Nowhere is the difference in style and in substance bigger than between France and Germany.
In other words, we instinctively believe that politics in Europe should work like politics at home. That is a very wrong assumption.

Nowhere is the difference in style and in substance bigger than between France and Germany.

Despite the republican rhetoric, in France politics still turn around the "power of the Prince."

It is he who must enjoy democratic legitimacy. In no other western country is the executive stronger and the parliament weaker than in France.

Indeed, for French culture, the whole point of having a government is to expect it to shape events, to "make history." Supported by the "will of the Nation," its discretionary powers are considerable.

The reverse is true in Germany. Nowhere else is the central government weaker and the parliament stronger. Even the power of the Bundestag, which seems increasingly almighty even in a pan-European context, is constrained.

While France is still highly centralized, Germany's federal system gives lots of power to the states — that is, the regions around the country, away from the center.

The other true power player in Germany is the nation's constitution, whose guardian, the Bundesverfassungsgericht (supreme constitutional court) is possibly the most respected institution of the country.

The French Conseil Constitutionnel has acquired importance in recent years, but its authority cannot be compared with that of its German equivalent.

The Germans expect the EU to establish rules. The French expect it to decide "policies."
Whenever a newly elected French president meets the German chancellor for the first time, his aides warn him that he is going to see a person who wields less domestic power than he does.

The French expect from their politicians fast and decisive action.

In contrast, the Germans have an understandably difficult relationship with the notion of "making history" and are deeply suspicious of any form of discretionary power.

As a result, Germans believe that markets must be regulated. But they have as little appetite for French "dirigisme" as they have for Anglo-Saxon "laissez-faire."

They expect politicians to establish rules and to enforce them consistently with as little derogation as possible.

Furthermore, rules must be sustainable because even the best can only be trusted (in particular by the markets) if they are implemented consistently over a long period of time.

This is not to say that the French don't like rules. On the contrary, they like them so much that they try to change them all the time. And when a new one is adopted it is immediately challenged, often in the streets.

In other words, the core German policy concept of "Ordnungspolitik" is not only an economic recipe. It encompasses an entire political culture favoring a highly regulated market where politicians, having established rules, then refrain from further intervention.

The French system embraces the idea of acting fast and decisively. The German one is focused on building consensus and is slow and cumbersome, sometimes painfully so.

The French system embraces acting fast and decisively. The German one aims to build consensus.
If we judge these different styles on the basis of the capacity to implement reforms, then the advantage is clearly on Berlin's side.

In fact, the French envy the Germans for this, but seem incapable of changing their political culture.

This stability reflects the preference of the electorate; while parliamentary majorities tend to change in France at every election, governments last much longer in Germany.

All this has important effects for the European policies of the two countries, irrespective of the political color of the government of the day.

The Germans expect the EU to establish rules. The French expect the EU to decide "policies." The French accept that there should be rules, but say that they should be "flexible."

It seems reasonable; but who applies "flexibility"? Translated into a German mindset, the concept sounds dangerously like discretion.

When it comes to institutions, they both are suspicious of the Commission.

However, that suspicion is based on different reasons: defense of national sovereignty for the French and fear of discretionary power for the Germans.

France's favorite EU institution is the European Council. For Berlin, it is the European Parliament.
The favorite supranational institution in Paris is the European Council. For Berlin, it is the European Parliament.

When the moment comes to give substance to the concept of "political union," the gap to fill will therefore be huge.

Should the French ever overcome their obsession with sovereignty and accept moving towards some sort of federal system, they will want to compensate at the European level for the loss of discretionary power incurred at the national level.

As a consequence, they will be naturally driven to ask for a strong executive, possibly directly elected. It should not be surprising that the only concrete proposal coming from Hollande is that of a (still undefined) "permanent government" of the Eurozone.

The Germans are likely to fight for a constitution with clearly defined rules, a weak executive and a powerful parliament.

To find a workable compromise will be a hard job. But those who think that it would be "mission impossible" should not despair too early.

They can be reassured that "political union" — whatever its ultimate shape (and if it comes to pass) — will certainly not be designed in one big shot.

If we in Europe will ever have our "Philadelphia moment," its purpose will be to consolidate an already existing balance. Its elements will gradually develop from the process of trial and error that has characterized the eurozone for the last three years.

Political union if and when it happens will certainly not be designed in one big shot.
Some people say that political union is made impossible by the absence of a European "polity."

The debate on whether it is the polity who generates institutions or vice versa is of course as old as democracy.

It can be easily dismissed only by those who believe that nations as we know them are metaphysical entities that predate the existence of the institutions that govern the people of those nations.

In reality a "polity" is a product of history. It is generated by shared interests and values, but also by a political debate that can only take place around existing institutions.

In Europe, the only place for such debate is the European Parliament. At present, that debate is still more "national" than "European"; on many key issues German socialists are closer to their conservative citizens than to their French comrades.

These differences will never completely disappear. However, as the power of the Parliament continues to increase and as more decisions have to be made in common, compromises be reached not only by governments but also by directly elected politicians.

And so a European polity may well emerge from that process and debate.

Fortunately, the French and the Germans will not determine the result alone. In order to bridge the cultural gap, the design of a European political architecture will require courage and vision.

It will also require a great deal of Italian or Belgian style pragmatism — and propensity to fudge.

To bridge cultural gaps, designing a political architecture will require courage and vision.
After all, it could be argued that plenty of fudging is also what happened in Philadelphia more than two centuries ago.

It even led to a civil war and is possibly the cause of the present dysfunctional American system.

But that hasn't prevented the United States from having a glorious history and becoming the dominant power in the world.

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