By Andrew Stuttaford
Thursday, February 21, 2019
The caustic reaction of EU Commission president
Jean-Claude Juncker to a series of Brexit votes in the British parliament
provoked a tweet from one Conservative Brexiteer describing Juncker in
anatomical language unprintable in this magazine and — oh dear — of
continental origin. Her fury was proof of sorts that Juncker is in the right
job.
Jean Monnet, the most important founding father of what
evolved into the EU, believed that only a united Europe could assure the
continent’s peace and prosperity. In the absence of popular enthusiasm for such
a union, it would have to be built, Monnet once remarked, “by zig and by zag,”
obliquely, quietly, and by misdirection. “Of course,” observed Juncker years
later, “there will be transfers of sovereignty. But would I be intelligent to
draw the attention of public opinion to this fact?”
Sovereignty cannot be transferred to an idea. Monnet’s
genius lay in establishing the essence of a government — a civil service (the
commission), a court, and the precursor of a parliament — long before there was
any state for it to run. The commission’s objective was to use the powers it
had been given and then accumulate more, often with the connivance of
politicians mistily supportive of “Europe” but unaware of the deeper
significance of what they were agreeing to. As Juncker explained in a 1999
interview: “We decide on something, leave it lying around, and wait and see
what happens. If no one kicks up a fuss, because most people don’t understand
what has been decided, we continue step by step until there is no turning
back.”
The three words — “ever closer union” — included in the
EU’s defining treaties meant what they said. There is no reverse gear.
Two genuinely great commission presidents were Walter
Hallstein (1958–67), who set Monnet’s machinery in motion, and Jacques Delors
(1985–95). Under Delors, the pace of integration picked up noticeably, not
least with the establishment of the “single market” and the creation of a clear
path to a shared currency. Since then, the principal task of the EU
Commission’s president has been to steer rather than set the course, with
plenty of direction — when it came to larger initiatives — from national
leaders. Thus the Lisbon Treaty, the notorious pact that bypassed voter
rejection of a proposed EU constitution, owed more to Angela Merkel than to
José Manuel Barroso, then the president, a pattern repeated when the euro-zone
crisis erupted in 2010. Merkel counted in a way that Barroso did not.
Juncker, too, counted. At the time, he was not only Luxembourg’s
prime minister, a position he had held since 1995, but also its treasury
minister. It was in that second capacity that he chaired the Eurogroup, a forum
for the euro zone’s finance ministers, until 2013. He thus had a key role in
the successful defense of the currency union against the financial pressures
that could have fractured or even shattered it, a defense that, in its early
stages, included — as his French counterpart admitted — violating “all the
rules”: “The Treaty of Lisbon was very straightforward. No bailout.” What
mattered more was keeping the euro zone intact, an example of how, throughout
his career, Juncker has combined a certain — uh — flexibility with an
unyielding dedication to ever closer union.
To be sure, the latter has been good for his career. The
EU has handed Juncker a playing field that is far bigger than his native
Luxembourg (which has a population of around 600,000). But his country’s
geography and history, and, to the extent that we know much about it, the
famously secretive Juncker’s background, are all reasons to think that his
Euro-fundamentalism is sincere.
Luxembourg has three official languages, French, German,
and Luxembourgish (a primarily Germanic language). It is lodged between
Belgium and, more uncomfortably, France and Germany, both of which have lodged
in it in the past — Germany, most recently, in both world wars. Luxembourg was
incorporated into the Reich in 1942. Under the circumstances, it is
unsurprising that Luxembourg was a founding member of what became the EU.
Adding a personal twist, Juncker’s father, no Nazi, was drafted into the
Wehrmacht and later taken prisoner by the Soviets. His father-in-law, by
contrast, collaborated actively with Luxembourg’s German occupiers. Juncker was
born nine years after the war, but his conviction that a federal Europe is a
bulwark against a return to the horrors of the past makes at least
psychological sense.
Juncker’s appointment to the commission’s presidency in
2014 was a reminder that, however much Barroso may have been reduced to a
secondary role during the euro-zone crisis, integration ground on. Juncker’s
predecessors were chosen by the leaders of the EU’s member states, but this
procedure was revised by the Lisbon Treaty with the addition of a proviso that
they should “take into account” the results of elections to the EU’s
parliament. This reliably federalist body, representing a European “demos” that
doesn’t exist, used those words to try to snatch control of the nomination from
the member states, asserting that the new president should be picked by the
party that could summon up the necessary backing in the European parliament.
That put Juncker, the nominee of the European People’s party, the parliament’s
center-right bloc, in the pole position. Hungary’s Viktor Orban and, fatefully,
U.K. prime minister David Cameron (backed by some of the more excitable
sections of the British press) came out against Juncker. References in the Sun to Juncker’s family links to the
“Nazi regime” were unlikely to turn the Luxembourger into an Anglophile.
Cameron and Orban distrusted Juncker’s
Euro-fundamentalism. There were other concerns, too, and they were shared
beyond the Anglo-Hungarian awkward squad even if those who felt them were not
prepared to step so far out of line as to vote against Juncker. He was tainted
by the memory of Jacques Santer, the last Luxembourgish commission president
(handy intermediaries between France and Germany, there have been three in
all), whose term ended in ignominy when he and his entire commission resigned
amid widespread criticism and credible accusations of corruption against one of
his team.
Juncker had served in government under Santer and had
succeeded him as prime minister: Was he cut from the same cloth? Other worries
included Juncker’s involvement in a scandal over the activities of — don’t
laugh — Luxembourg’s intelligence service, which eventually led to his
resignation from the premiership. Then there was his reputed love of the
bottle. Wading through the euro mess might have driven anyone to drink, but it
was a destination where Juncker had long since arrived. Allegedly.
None of this can have bothered Angela Merkel overmuch.
She threw her support behind Juncker, and that, as usual, was that. Juncker
took office in November 2014.
In normal times he would have been a suitable enough
choice, amenable to accommodating the EU’s dominant Franco-German axis but
otherwise devoted to the discipline of “ever closer union,” if, sometimes,
rather late in the day. Almost immediately after assuming the presidency,
Juncker came under fire when leaked documents showed how Luxembourg’s enviably
relaxed tax regime had become even more welcoming during his years in office.
Evidently shocked, shocked, by what had been going on, Juncker accepted only
“political” responsibility for these “problems,” which could, he argued, be
eased by the imposition of a “common tax base” across the EU of a type, further
leaks a few years later revealed, he had previously opposed. Juncker, a climate
warrior with a fondness for private jets, contains multitudes.
But these have not been normal times. Merkel’s decision
to fling open Germany’s doors in September 2015 (and her subsequent demand
that some of the new arrivals be relocated elsewhere in the EU) gave an
additional boost to a populist revolt that had already been gathering momentum
mainly, but not exclusively, in some of the countries most brutally affected by
the procrustean economics of monetary union. Making matters worse still, even
if they (for the most part) affected the U.K. only indirectly, the twin
currency and migration crises reinforced many Britons’ belief that the EU was
not only poorly run but also a menace, toxic sentiments with a Brexit vote in
the offing. Even so, had Brussels demonstrated a little more flexibility in its
negotiations with David Cameron ahead of the referendum, the Leave campaign, which
secured only a 52–48 majority, would have lost.
Not all the blame or credit — far from it, in fact — for
the referendum result lies with Junker. Nevertheless, his unbending loyalty to
both Angela Merkel and ever closer union played a part in helping the
Brexiteers past the winning post. To a lesser degree, the similar approach he
is taking to the terms of Britain’s withdrawal is contributing to what is
likely to be a damaging relationship with the U.K. after the divorce. Away from
Brexit, Juncker’s robotic insistence that the answer to the EU’s wider problems
— from its troubled currency to migration — is “more Europe” is stoking
populist anger across the bloc, with possibly interesting implications for the
EU’s parliamentary elections in May.
Juncker came into office promising a “highly political”
commission, but, although he can boast of some technocratic achievements — such
as this year’s trade deal with Japan — his political record, scarred by that
rising populist challenge and, above all, Brexit, contains little to brag
about. Brexit will, of course, remove the British brake on ever closer union,
but that silver lining will accrue to a future president. The cloud is all
Juncker’s.
A tin ear (fêting Marx’s 200th birthday was not a way to
win over restless Eastern Europeans) and embarrassing public displays (his
sporadically strikingly unsteady gait has, however, been blamed by loyal
officials on sciatica rather than alcohol) have all contributed to an
impression of growing disengagement from a job Juncker recently described as
“hell.” All this has made all the more credible allegations that he has fallen
under the sway of a German puppet master, Martin “The Monster” Selmayr, the
authoritarian Eurofundamentalist who was until recently his chief of staff.
These fears were exacerbated when, in a charade rushed through in a few minutes
and relying on a legally questionable technicality, Selmayr was appointed the
commission’s secretary general (its top bureaucrat) in February 2018. Any
opposition at the top of the commission was — it is claimed — muffled by talk
of increased retirement benefits. After looking into the matter, the EU’s
ombudsman expressed serious reservations last year. These were confirmed in a
final decision issued on February 11: “Mr Selmayr’s appointment did not follow
EU law, in letter or spirit, and did not follow the Commission’s own rules.”
Meanwhile, in December, a vast majority of the normally docile European
parliament had passed a resolution calling for Selmayr’s resignation. None of
this has made any difference. Juncker will step down when his term ends later
this year, but the Monster will continue to preside from his new lair.
This shady, secretive, and successful maneuver, which the
EU’s parliament described as “coup-like,” is yet more evidence that the EU is
sliding ever further away from democratic control. Despite the current
turbulence, it will probably continue to do so, and there will be no shortage
of Junckers to help it on its way.
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