Cameron is a spectator at euro endgame

Any deal will have "Made in Germany" stamped all over it.

It appears that European leaders are finally mobilising the political will required to save the single currency from collapsing. German Chancellor Angela Merkel's speech to the Bundestag today signals clear recognition that institutional reform, binding euro member states into a very different model of fiscal integration, is the only outcome that will persuade markets that the whole project is sustainable.

Last night Nicolas Sarkozy also made a speech suggesting he was moving towards the Merkel position.

The French President said, in effect, that he will work with the German Chancellor to establish a more rigorous system of European governance. He rejected the idea that this meant a new "supranational" model, but he seems to have accepted the principle of automatic sanctions, imposed by a European institution, against single currency members that break the rules of budget discipline originally laid down in the founding Stability and Growth pact.

For months it has been clear that market turmoil would not subside until euro zone leaders agreed clear proposals to express economic solidarity on the level of institutional reform.

Crudely speaking, Germany would have to put its economy up as collateral for debt accrued by weaker member states. In exchange, the indebted countries would have to submit their budgets to scrutiny by European institutions - the European Central Bank (ECB) or some beefed up administrative cadre running the European Financial Stability Facility (EFSF). Ultimately that kind of arrangement leads towards the establishment of a prototype European Finance Ministry.

In any case, the choice is between a new pact that creates the basis for an integrated hardcore eurozone or the catastrophic collapse of the single currency.

Over recent weeks there has been a lot of speculation about Angela Merkel's behaviour through the crisis, and why she appears to have let things get to such an extreme point. Germany has come in for a lot of criticism for withholding permission for the ECB to take action to inject liquidity into the market and, if necessary, buy up debt that the market has rejected. She now seems to be relenting on that front, but her preferred sequence of events is still political agreement on reform preceding full-scale ECB intervention.

A popular interpretation is that she does not have enough domestic political support to encourage measures that look like an abandonment of Germany's cherished attachment to monetary discipline - the tradition of the mighty old Deutschmark. This in turn is said to stem from the deep scars left in the German psyche by the hyperinflation of the inter-War years and all the terrible things that followed from the collapse of the Weimar Republic.

But there is another interpretation, less commonly discussed but no less plausible. It is that Merkel has been withholding support for interim and ad hoc measures to increase the pressure on other European states to find a longer term political solution. In other words, she has waited for other European leaders to be so freaked out by the prospect of euro collapse that they will agree to reform the EU on German terms.

It seems to be working, but it is extraordinarily risky. If the whole thing falls apart, Merkel will get a large portion of the blame. If, however, a political deal is done at one minute to midnight and the result is a new stability pact with "Made in Germany" written all over it, Merkel just might have pulled off a most extraordinary act of diplomatic brinksmanship. It looks like a game of chicken between Germany and the rest of Europe where the penalty, if neither side budges in time, is financial apocalypse.

This is all quite bad news for David Cameron. He has accepted the logic of eurozone fiscal integration for the sensible and pragmatic reason that anything less would risk a systemic banking crisis across Europe. (An indication of the threat: a Treasury official told me earlier this week that contingency plans include anticipation of financial failure on a scale that would require nationalising UK banks.)

But given the extreme urgency of the situation, and the fact that Britain is not a euro member, Cameron's hopes of getting some quid pro quo for supporting a new treaty are receding from view. Changes are now very likely to be agreed among the 17 single currency members, which means the UK would not have a potential veto that might be used to extract concessions. In any case, under the circumstances it would be diplomatic lunacy to start impeding crisis resolution now with frankly irrelevant calls for "repatriation of powers" demanded by Tory backbenchers. Cameron is meeting Sarkozy today, but it is far from clear what he thinks he can get out of the talks.

The bottom line is that Cameron is a spectator. The most he can hope for is vague assurances that the single market will not be skewed or undermined by eurozone consolidation. That is no good to the Tory eurosceptics and they will be, I suspect, very unimpressed by their leader's inability to turn this crisis into an opportunity to redefine Britain's relationship with the EU. It will be redefined of course - just not on British terms.

 

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue