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

Getty
Show Hide image

"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

0800 7318496