Cameron finally has a coherent Europe policy - but does his party want to listen?

The PM is inching towards a sceptical but engaged role in Europe. But his MPs won't be bought off.

After the umpteen crisis summits that have dominated Brussels-night life, last week's meeting of EU leaders was one of the dullest in recent memory. With the clock well past 3am, bleary-eyed leaders stumbled along to brief the no-less bleary-eyed Brussels press corps that, after ten hours of painstaking negotiating, a couple of words in the summit conclusions had been changed.

Three months after agreeing to create a single supervisor for the eurozone by the end of 2012, EU leaders confirmed that they had actually meant it and that the legal framework would be in place by the end of 2012.

But while leaders lined up to put their own national spin on the banking union agreement, David Cameron's Friday morning press briefing was significant, not just because of what he said, but also the way he said it.  In the course of a 20 minute briefing Cameron referred to "a new settlement" for both the eurozone and Britain about five times. Every time he spoke of the necessity of a banking union and deeper integration for the eurozone in the next breath he added that Britain would not be involved in any of it.

As a statement of fact, it is hard to disagree with him. Deeper integration of the eurozone will change Britain's relationship with the EU. Whether it is bank supervision by the ECB, a specific budget for the eurozone or a single Treasury for the single currency, all have as profound implications for the 10 countries outside the eurozone as for the eurozone-17. All, particularly Denmark and Sweden, the two other countries where euro-membership is squarely off the political agenda, will have big decisions to make, but a multi-speed Europe will surely become even clearer than it already is.

The first question is whether Cameron genuinely wants Britain to have second division membership and, if so, whether other countries will let him. Although Michael Gove and Iain Duncan-Smith lead the 'get-outer' faction in his cabinet, it seems clear that Cameron does not want Britain to leave the EU. In fact, he was at pains to repeat his commitment to Britain's EU membership, particularly to the single market, and to the country's 'euro-realism' on foreign policy.

The Cameron-doctrine on Europe seems to boil down to the following: pro-single market and in favour of ad hoc co-operation on foreign policy and blanket opposition to everything else - from the euro and JHA policy to social policy. However, while there is plenty to criticise from a left or liberal perspective, it is an ideologically coherent and thoroughly Tory approach.

At the same time, however, his government continues to add fuel to the perception that Cameron's EU policy is one of outright hostility. Indeed, after a week in which his government decided to opt out of over 130 legal acts on justice and home affairs policy and senior ministers mooted the possibility of a referendum on the EU within a year of the next election expected in 2015, the remark by Finland's Europe minister, Alex Stubb, that Britain was waving "bye, bye to Europe" is understandable. One of the Tories' main weaknesses on Europe is their lack of any significant allies and it is hard to see how Cameron can secure the opt-outs his party craves if he constantly provokes hostility from other European governments

That is why Cameron should tread carefully at November's specially convened EU budget summit. Angela Merkel has already thrown down the gauntlet, threatening to call off the summit - a veto to pre-empt a veto - if Cameron and William Hague continue to demand big reductions in EU spending. The entire EU budget only represents 1 per cent of GDP and the funds being argued about between countries are pretty small - around 0.1 per cent of GDP. But if it is already hard to see other countries agreeing to more British opt-outs, holding the rest of Europe to ransom over a tiny proportion of the EU budget would be completely counterproductive.

The other question is whether his party is prepared to listen. One of the mistakes Cameron made early on was to think that he could buy off his eurosceptics. Despite pulling his MEP delegation out of the centre-right European People's Party group and putting a "referendum lock" into UK law, many Tory activists are still convinced that their leader is a kool-aid slurping federalist and will accept nothing short of as many 'in/out' referendums as it takes to get the right result.

However, it is not as if either Labour or the Liberal Democrats have a coherent Europe policy around which to take advantage of Cameron's contortions. Since being ousted from power in 2010, Labour has taken a conscious decision not to be a hostage to fortune by laying down detailed policy platforms and Europe is no exception. Senior figures in the party are even considering whether to steal a march on the Tories by promising a referendum on Britain's EU membership in their next manifesto, a high risk strategy for no obvious political gain considering that the party won't convince anyone if it tries to 'out-sceptic' the Conservatives.

As for the Lib Dems, the only way that their pro-EU stance will be a vote-winner is if they use it in 2014 to despatch Nick Clegg to Brussels as Britain's next Commissioner, conveniently a year before facing the wrath of the electorate the following year.

Europe has been one of the most destructive forces in the Conservative party for over twenty years. After wrangling over the ERM and attitudes to European integration contributed to Thatcher's downfall, John Major's government was wrecked by civil war over the Maastricht Treaty and, since then, the Tories have repeatedly failed to articulate a policy position capable of getting grass-roots support and being put into practice. But now eurozone integration seems set to formally create a club within a club. Cameron acknowledges this and is inching towards a sceptical but engaged role in Europe. The question is whether other European leaders, and his party activists, are ready to listen.

Ben Fox is chairman of GMB Brussels and political adviser to the Socialist vice-president of economic and monetary affairs.

David Cameron gives a press conference on the final day of an EU summit in Brussels on 19 October 2012. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Nigel Farage's love for Dunkirk shows how Brexiteers learned the wrong lessons from WWII

Film has given Britain a dangerously skewed perspective on World War II

For months now it’s been hard to avoid the publicity for what seems like an epidemic of new World War Two films for 2017. June brought us Churchill (starring Brian Cox), which concerns Operation Overlord and the allied invasion of Normandy in 1944. A month later, in July we were pushed back four years, to Dunkirk, with Christopher Nolan’s film of the evacuation of Allied troops from French soil in the summer of 1940. April had already brought Their Finest, a comedy about making a - let us not let the irony go unacknowledged -  stirring film about the evacuation of Dunkirk in the event’s more or less immediate aftermath and November will bring us Darkest Hour, some events in which will predate all three earlier films, as Gary Oldman’s Churchill struggles through the earliest days of his war premiership.

This glut is peculiar. There are no significant round anniversaries to commemorate (e.g. Dunkirk is 77 years ago, the Normandy landings 73). More, we’re meant to be in the middle of a series of commemorations of the horror and waste of the Great War of 1914-18, but that seems to have slipped away from us in the political turmoil that’s engulfed this country since 2014. Instead, it’s to the Second World War we return yet again. To modern Britain’s founding myth.

It’s a coincidence, of course, that these films should come along together, and at a seemingly odd time. They were developed separately, and films takes so long to conceive and produce that no one could have anticipated them arriving together, let alone arriving in a toxic Brexit Britain where they seem like literally the least useful things for anyone in the UK to watch right now. As works that will inevitably, whatever their own creative intentions and merits, be hi-jacked by a press and political culture that is determined to gloss its opposition to the UK’s membership of the European Union, and its appalling mishandling of the process of exit with garbled references to, the conflict the films portray.

This is an impression that is not exactly dismissed by Nigel Farage posting to twitter of an image of himself standing next to the poster for Dunkirk, along with a statement in which he encourages all young people to see the film. For what reason, we’re entitled to wonder, does he make this encouragement? Does he admire the sound design? Or the aerial photography? Or is he just a big fan of Mark Rylance and Harry Styles? Or perhaps he is, inevitably, indulging in a behaviour that some might call "nostalgic"? Of pining for the past. Except, of course, nostalgia requires an element of pain. The suffix "algia" the same as employed when referring to chronic conditions. For Farage and his ilk there is no pain in this behaviour, just the most extraordinarily banal comfort.

Farage is asking us and asking the young who voted against his chosen cause by an overwhelming majority, and who are are sickened by where he and his ilk have brought us - to share in his indulgence. To enjoy, as he does, those fatuous analogies between the UK’s isolation between Dunkirk and Pearl Harbour with its imminent failures in European politics. To see that "escaping from Europe with nothing is at least better than not escaping at all". Or to believe, once again, in a "plucky little Britain, standing up against the might of a wicked mainland European tyranny, its back against the wall".

All this, confused, indeed nonsensical, as it is, is being invoked, as surely as the anti-EU right have always invoked Churchill. This is despite his own family recognising him, as the EU itself does, as the fervent pro-European he was. Indeed, he was one of the founding fathers of the whole post-war pan-European enterprise.

What Farage and his behaviour demonstrates, yet again, is that British culture, in many ways, learned not merely the wrong lessons from the war against Hitler, but exactly the wrong lessons. It’s a lesson that found its most enduring, poisonous expression in Margaret Thatcher’s breathtaking assertion that the European Union was a "third attempt" by Germany to take over the world.

In contrast to the rush of war films in cinemas, television has recently given us glimpses into theoretical worlds where Nazism did succeed in conquering the planet, in Amazon Prime’s The Man In The High Castle and BBC One’s SS-GB. There are lessons too, in these alternative histories, proper lessons that we have collectively failed to learn from the real one. Which is that fascism or authoritarianism are not diseases to which anglophone countries are somehow miraculously immune due to [insert misunderstood historical fetish of choice].

The Man in the High Castle, particularly in its more subtle first series, goes out of its way to show Americans that their lack of experience of collaboration with Nazi occupation is a result of circumstance, even luck. Not because collaboration is a peculiarly European tendency. SS-GB also worked hard to demonstrate the helplessness of occupation, and how that leads to the sheer ordinariness of collaboration. Both show the understanding that while fascism from the outside is funny accents and funny uniforms, fascism from the inside is your neighbours informing on you and the absence of the rule of law.

That experience of occupation, of subsequent complicity, and humiliation, felt by many other other European nations, is absent in Britain. Farage’s fellow Leaver Liam Fox, without anything resembling self-awareness, asserted that "the United Kingdom is one of the few countries in the European Union that does not need to bury its 20th century history". Fox’s remark summed up, again seemingly unintentionally, the oafishness of the principle Brexiteers. A group who exemplify a culture that boils a vast and unimaginably complex conflict down to the title sequence of Dad’s Army - an animation in which a Union Flag is forced off the European continent by a trio of Nazi triangles, and after returning home bobs around defiantly. A group who, in a strange and witless inversion, have fantasised themselves into a position where they see the Britain’s membership of the European Union as the occupation the country once avoided.

This is the UK’s postponed tragedy. At a timethat European countries experienced national humiliations which fundamentally reconfigured their understandings of their place in the world, the UK got yet another excuse to shout about how much better it was than everyone else.

I’m a child of the very late Seventies. I grew up in a world where (British) boys’ comics were dominated by war stories rather than science fiction or superheroes, where literally everyone knew several people who had fought in World War Two - and almost everyone someone who could remember World War One. That war was the ever-present past. I am, as a friend who teaches history neatly phrased it "Of the last post-war generation." After me, the generations are post-post-war. They are free. The moral clarity of the war against Hitler has, in the end, been a curse on British culture - a distorting mirror in which we can always see ourselves as heroes. 

But, not, of course, all other generations. The war generation collectively (I make no claim that there were not exceptions) understood what the war was. Which meant they understood that the European Union was, and is, its antonym, not an extension of it. Unlike their children and the eldest of their grandchildren, they had real experience of the conflict, they hadn’t just grown up surrounded by films about how great Britain was during it.

The Prime Minister who, or so he thought, had secured Britain’s European destiny had also, as he related in his autobiography, seen the devastation wrought by that conflict, including by shells he himself had given the order to be fired. Like Helmut Kohl, whose worshipped, conscripted older brother died pointlessly fighting for Hitler, and Francois Mitterrand, himself captured during the fall of France, his experience was real and lived, not second hand.

This can be seen even in the voting in 2016 referendum. That the young principally voted Remain and the old voted Leave has been often noted. But if you break that over-65 vote up further, there’s a substantial flip to back towards Remain amongst the oldest voters, the survivors of the survivors of World War Two. After all, someone who is 65 today was born nearly a decade after the war ended. It was their parents’ war, not their own. A war that has been appropriated, and for purposes of which those who fought in it would, collectively, not approve.

Let’s return to Dad’s Army, after all, BBC Two does often enough. Don’t Panic! The Dad’s Army Story (2000) a cheerful history of the sitcom great written and presented by Victoria Wood contains a telling juxtaposition of interviewees. The series' surprising continued popularity is discussed and Wendy Richard (born 1943) expresses a nostalgia for the war years, and how people banded together during them. This is a sentiment which Clive Dunn (born 1920) bluntly dismisses. “Like most people I had a foul war,” he says, and disgust and horror briefly pass across his face.

It’s the difference between those who remember war, and those who only remember war films.