DISCUSSING the European constitution at a recent informal meeting, a high-ranking German politician suddenly veered off topic and onto the merits (and drawbacks) of “three-speed Europe”, the idea that the European Union might adopt different categories of membership, with gradations of responsibility. The change in direction was, to say the least, somewhat unexpected: such an idea is very different from the constitution, and getting that document passed is the German government's foreign-policy priority.
Two weeks later, it happened again. This time, the Spanish foreign minister, opening a conference of countries that have ratified the constitution, discoursed on “mechanisms of differentiated integration”—EU jargon for two-speed Europe.
Talk of two-speed, three-speed, multi-speed or any other bicycle gearing mechanism is strange now, when all eyes are supposed to be on ratifying the constitution. The constitution is a step everyone takes together. It fits the famous definition of British cabinet responsibility in Sellar and Yeatman's spoof history “1066 and All That”: it does not matter what politicians say so long as they all speak at once. Notions of multi-speed Europe are the opposite. They imply that some countries could push ahead, others could hold back and the union as a whole would evolve from a monolithic one-size-fits-all block into a club in which membership would mean different things to different people.
At the moment, it is best to regard such chatter as a threat. Supporters of the constitution are saying to opponents: you had better ratify this document or we will press ahead and create an inner circle, leaving you outside. Then you'll be sorry.
Actually, they probably wouldn't be, because this isn't much of a threat. Talk of “core Europe”, and various other slogans advanced by, amongst others, Jacques Delors and Valéry Giscard d'Estaing, is almost as old as the institutions of Europe—and has never come to anything. It poses huge institutional problems (what would be the relationship between the inner core and the EU itself?) and the Germans have never been very keen because they want to anchor their country in Europe as a whole, not in a self-selected bit of it. The idea would be less plausible now, in an EU of 27, since an inner circle around France and Germany would not have the same impact as it would have done in a Europe of 12 (even assuming such a group could be established).
Still, plausible or not, politicians will soon be paying more attention to multiple speeds and all that. If the constitution fails, demands for an inner circle will grow in countries such as Belgium, whose prime minister wants a United States of Europe based on the euro. The same thing might happen even if the constitution passes in the form of a stripped-down treaty that tinkers with the EU's institutions but lacks grand gestures of integration.
Pressure for closer union through multiple speeds might seem, as Sellar and Yeatman would have put it, A Bad Thing: it suggests the EU will never reach a constitutional settlement. In fact, a multi-speed Europe, properly conceived, could reduce some of the tensions inherent in countries' differing appetites for integration. It would be A Good Thing. To see how, forgive a quick dip into the turbid waters of EU theology.
There are 57 varieties of multi-speed Europe but only two basic types. In the first, an elite group of countries would sign up to closer co-operation right across the board, probably by establishing a new organisation parallel to the EU. They would form a club within the club. The rest would co-operate on only a few things, forming an outer ring or two. This is variously called “core Europe”, “concentric circles” or “two-speed Europe”.
In the other type, all countries sign up to a basic set of rules (in practice, the single market). Smaller groups then volunteer to co-operate in specific areas—policing, say, or foreign policy. There would be many such groups, with overlapping memberships. This idea might be dubbed “coalitions of the willing” (to borrow Donald Rumsfeld's phrase) but suffers under horrible labels like “enhanced co-operation” and “variable geometry”.
Whatever you call it, the latter idea—unlike the former—has much to recommend it. For one thing, it works. We know this because while the EU likes to pretend everyone will eventually sign up for everything, in practice it has developed the euro (legal tender in 13 countries of 27); the Schengen agreement for passport-free travel (15 countries implement this, including three non-EU states); and the arrangement by which Britain, France and Germany speak for everyone in dealing with Iran. In each case—and there are others—pioneers were able to push ahead without precipitating a constitutional crisis with the cautious.
Willing, but not always able
As with anything in life or politics, coalitions of the willing can be good or bad, helpful or horrible, depending on the details. But potentially, the idea would allow countries that wanted more co-operation in controversial areas, such as defence or criminal justice, to move ahead without affecting those who want to retain a national veto in such matters. This would not only be more democratic (why should countries that wish to pool sovereignty be stopped by others, if others are not harmed?). It might also soothe some of the neuralgic objections to enlargement, since new members, such as Turkey, could join a “basic EU” while existing ones experiment with closer co-operation.
“One can only reconcile a deepening of EU integration with enlargement of the EU by allowing some countries to go further,” wrote Jacques Delors in 2000. This multi-speed approach would be a better way of answering some of the genuine problems of the EU than the constitution would provide, and should be adopted instead. As Sellar and Yeatman advised in their mock exam questions: Do not attempt to answer more than one question at a time.