Pascal L.
13 augustus 2004, 19:06
France in Decline
Stratfor's Geopolitical Diary:
Friday, Aug. 13, 2004
It is not every day that a country's place in the world changes drastically in an instant. Even in wars, the ultimate outcome is rarely decided in the course of a single battle. But on Thursday one country's position in the international milieu radically changed -- in a press conference.
The press conference was called by European Union Commission President Jose Manuel Durao Barroso, and the country in question is France.
The EU is many things to many different players. To the United States, it is a way to keep Europe prosperous and, ironically, politically divided against itself while economically unified with American free-market policies. To Germany, it was a road to international respectability after the Second World War. To the Central Europeans, it is a vindication that they have finally escaped the shadow of Russia, while the Turks see the EU as their (hopeful) final destination.
But for France, the EU has -- or used to have -- an almost mythical quality. In the post-World War era, the French mind reeled at how quickly its empire crumbled. It was one thing to be defeated by the Germans in the early days of the war, quite another to be routed in Vietnam and forced into a humiliating retreat from Algeria.
And so France set its sights on Europe, envisioning using the Continent as a platform from which Paris could project power. For two generations after World War II, the Germans wholly subscribed to this plan, seeing it as part of their international redemption, and the French proved masters at harnessing German guilt and timidity to their own national interest.
The plan was, of course, flawed from the beginning. Many European states -- particularly the EU's newer members in Central Europe -- had spent much of their history scrambling to avoid French or German hegemony. They wanted the economic benefits of an "ever-closer union" but cared little for -- indeed, greatly feared -- the idea of a superstate designed to serve the French purpose.
The constitution agreed to in March is reflective of this disconnect. After the better part of a decade of attempting to persuade EU members -- new and old -- to see things the French way and enshrine that vision in constitutional law, the new (and not yet ratified) constitution instead appeals to the lowest common denominator and guarantees a massive amount of sovereignty. It even raises the possibility, albeit slim, that under the new voting structure the rest of the Union could force its will upon the Franco-German axis.
So the French knew the dream was dying. What is surprising is that it happened with such a clang on Thursday.
The European Commission is the executive arm of the European Union. It proposes legislation to the European Parliament, enforces EU laws and even levies fines against member states for noncompliance. Barroso is the Commission president-elect and -- when he takes office in November -- will be arguably the most powerful man in Europe.
Barroso was not France's choice. In fact, he is the first Commission president for whom Paris did not care. He was a compromise candidate put forward simply because Paris and Berlin found themselves deadlocked with the rest of the Union over who should lead the EU for the next five years. The rough agreement struck at the time of Barroso's selection was that in exchange for withdrawing their own candidate -- Guy Verhofstadt, the Belgian prime minister -- the French and Germans would be guaranteed powerful positions on Barroso's commission.
EU member states selected Barroso via a voting scheme based roughly on population, but the makeup of the European Commission itself is something that only the European Parliament, not any individual state, can approve or vote down.
The press conference in question occurred at 9 a.m. Brussels time. Germany received the industrial policy portfolio -- well short of the goal Berlin had set for itself, but hardly a consolation price. France's post barely qualified as even that: There are half-dozen critical posts on the commission, of which the one that France was left holding -- transport -- is not counted.
But France's defeat in being able to set the direction of future EU policy did not end there. Barroso put the Netherlands, Ireland and the United Kingdom -- the three most economically liberal members of the old EU 15, who often find themselves at odds with France's eurosocialism -- in charge of competition policy, internal markets and trade policy, arguably the three most critical positions for determining the broad direction of the Union's economic evolution.
On a more subtle level, Barroso put a Latvian in charge of customs policy and a Hungarian in charge of energy policy. That puts two Central Europeans at the forefront of decision-making as regards Europe's most critical neighbor, France's geopolitical ally and their own (much resented) former master: Russia. Figure in that trade, a portfolio that the French held in the last commission, is now in British hands and that the new "foreign minister of the EU" position created by the new constitution operates only with unanimous consent of EU members, and it is clear that France has lost all of its levers over the union's external affairs.
Barroso's commission signifies not simply a rejection of French understandings or French goals, but of the French way of doing business and the French view of the world.
The question now is, how will France react? States rarely go quietly in to that good night, and France already has been searching for a means -- whether through political alliances with faraway powers such as China or Brazil, with which Paris shares little but a dislike of U.S. power, or through awkward "triumvirates" with European powers, like the United Kingdom, which shares few of France's geopolitical goals -- to substitute for the impending loss of the European stage.
This de facto isolation in the new commission will force upon Paris a radically increased timeline. It is one thing to be unable to affect the "foreign affairs" of a diplomatically fractured institution, quite another to be shut out of the power centers of one's economic bloc. Imagine the outrage in the American government if Washington somehow found its influence over NAFTA's development radically reduced.
France is not going to abandon the European Union (yet), but its efforts to preserve it -- or any of its many institutions -- can no longer be taken for granted. France has always been quite skilled at coldly evaluating every development on the basis of pure national interest; every EU document that France has ever signed is likely about to receive a thorough review.
But all that will not begin just yet. Government reactions to Barroso's appointments have been slow in coming. After all, despite all their differences, France does share one notable characteristic with its European cousins. The entire month of August is for vacationing.
Stratfor's Geopolitical Diary:
Friday, Aug. 13, 2004
It is not every day that a country's place in the world changes drastically in an instant. Even in wars, the ultimate outcome is rarely decided in the course of a single battle. But on Thursday one country's position in the international milieu radically changed -- in a press conference.
The press conference was called by European Union Commission President Jose Manuel Durao Barroso, and the country in question is France.
The EU is many things to many different players. To the United States, it is a way to keep Europe prosperous and, ironically, politically divided against itself while economically unified with American free-market policies. To Germany, it was a road to international respectability after the Second World War. To the Central Europeans, it is a vindication that they have finally escaped the shadow of Russia, while the Turks see the EU as their (hopeful) final destination.
But for France, the EU has -- or used to have -- an almost mythical quality. In the post-World War era, the French mind reeled at how quickly its empire crumbled. It was one thing to be defeated by the Germans in the early days of the war, quite another to be routed in Vietnam and forced into a humiliating retreat from Algeria.
And so France set its sights on Europe, envisioning using the Continent as a platform from which Paris could project power. For two generations after World War II, the Germans wholly subscribed to this plan, seeing it as part of their international redemption, and the French proved masters at harnessing German guilt and timidity to their own national interest.
The plan was, of course, flawed from the beginning. Many European states -- particularly the EU's newer members in Central Europe -- had spent much of their history scrambling to avoid French or German hegemony. They wanted the economic benefits of an "ever-closer union" but cared little for -- indeed, greatly feared -- the idea of a superstate designed to serve the French purpose.
The constitution agreed to in March is reflective of this disconnect. After the better part of a decade of attempting to persuade EU members -- new and old -- to see things the French way and enshrine that vision in constitutional law, the new (and not yet ratified) constitution instead appeals to the lowest common denominator and guarantees a massive amount of sovereignty. It even raises the possibility, albeit slim, that under the new voting structure the rest of the Union could force its will upon the Franco-German axis.
So the French knew the dream was dying. What is surprising is that it happened with such a clang on Thursday.
The European Commission is the executive arm of the European Union. It proposes legislation to the European Parliament, enforces EU laws and even levies fines against member states for noncompliance. Barroso is the Commission president-elect and -- when he takes office in November -- will be arguably the most powerful man in Europe.
Barroso was not France's choice. In fact, he is the first Commission president for whom Paris did not care. He was a compromise candidate put forward simply because Paris and Berlin found themselves deadlocked with the rest of the Union over who should lead the EU for the next five years. The rough agreement struck at the time of Barroso's selection was that in exchange for withdrawing their own candidate -- Guy Verhofstadt, the Belgian prime minister -- the French and Germans would be guaranteed powerful positions on Barroso's commission.
EU member states selected Barroso via a voting scheme based roughly on population, but the makeup of the European Commission itself is something that only the European Parliament, not any individual state, can approve or vote down.
The press conference in question occurred at 9 a.m. Brussels time. Germany received the industrial policy portfolio -- well short of the goal Berlin had set for itself, but hardly a consolation price. France's post barely qualified as even that: There are half-dozen critical posts on the commission, of which the one that France was left holding -- transport -- is not counted.
But France's defeat in being able to set the direction of future EU policy did not end there. Barroso put the Netherlands, Ireland and the United Kingdom -- the three most economically liberal members of the old EU 15, who often find themselves at odds with France's eurosocialism -- in charge of competition policy, internal markets and trade policy, arguably the three most critical positions for determining the broad direction of the Union's economic evolution.
On a more subtle level, Barroso put a Latvian in charge of customs policy and a Hungarian in charge of energy policy. That puts two Central Europeans at the forefront of decision-making as regards Europe's most critical neighbor, France's geopolitical ally and their own (much resented) former master: Russia. Figure in that trade, a portfolio that the French held in the last commission, is now in British hands and that the new "foreign minister of the EU" position created by the new constitution operates only with unanimous consent of EU members, and it is clear that France has lost all of its levers over the union's external affairs.
Barroso's commission signifies not simply a rejection of French understandings or French goals, but of the French way of doing business and the French view of the world.
The question now is, how will France react? States rarely go quietly in to that good night, and France already has been searching for a means -- whether through political alliances with faraway powers such as China or Brazil, with which Paris shares little but a dislike of U.S. power, or through awkward "triumvirates" with European powers, like the United Kingdom, which shares few of France's geopolitical goals -- to substitute for the impending loss of the European stage.
This de facto isolation in the new commission will force upon Paris a radically increased timeline. It is one thing to be unable to affect the "foreign affairs" of a diplomatically fractured institution, quite another to be shut out of the power centers of one's economic bloc. Imagine the outrage in the American government if Washington somehow found its influence over NAFTA's development radically reduced.
France is not going to abandon the European Union (yet), but its efforts to preserve it -- or any of its many institutions -- can no longer be taken for granted. France has always been quite skilled at coldly evaluating every development on the basis of pure national interest; every EU document that France has ever signed is likely about to receive a thorough review.
But all that will not begin just yet. Government reactions to Barroso's appointments have been slow in coming. After all, despite all their differences, France does share one notable characteristic with its European cousins. The entire month of August is for vacationing.