EU-US free trade talks show why Britain is better off in

Few can seriously claim that UK on its own would have as much clout in trade negotiations as the whole of the EU.

Like it or not, David Cameron had a good win at the EU budget summit last week. After over 24 hours of caffeine-powered talks he got what he came for - a real terms cut in EU spending. That said, it is easy to overplay Cameron's role in the marathon talks. Germany's Angela Merkel was, as ever, the real dealmaker.

In any case, as Will Straw wrote last Friday, the budget deal is hardly something to celebrate. The budget headings that suffered the biggest cuts were "Global Europe" - which includes development spending - and investment in infrastructure projects. In contrast, despite being cut by 11 per cent, spending on the Common Agricultural Policy - possibly the worst and most wasteful of all EU policies - remains the largest single area of spending.

But while 99 per cent of the summit media coverage was about rehearsing centuries-old cliches about European diplomacy - in last week's case, Britain screwed the French by making a deal with the Germans - the importance of the EU budget was actually pretty low. In fact, while over 24 hours were spent haggling over how Europe would spend just over €900bn of its own money, leaders spent a few minutes and several pages of the summit communique talking about something of far greater significance to the EU's future.

The importance of Barack Obama's launch of formal negotiations aimed at agreeing the world's biggest ever bilateral trade deal during his State of the Union speech to Congress yesterday, dwarves the endless debates in Brussels on rebates, "own resources", and the difference in funding for Pillars 1 and 2.

It hasn't happened overnight. Since autumn 2011, diplomats have been working behind the scenes on preparing the ground for a EU/US trade talks. Full negotiations on a deal looking not just on the elimination of tariff barriers but also on harmonising regulatory and technical standards for products could generate 2 per cent of GDP on its own. EU officials think that, by itself, a US trade deal could translate into €275bn per year for the European economy and two million new jobs.

The EU - as both its supporters and critics would agree - is not just about the single market, but its status as the world's largest market is a valuable and, so far, relatively under-used commodity. At the moment, just four of the EU's 29 trade deals are with countries from the G20, and those four are with South Korea, Mexico, South Africa and Turkey. But the EU is now devoting increasing amounts of political capital to trade. An FTA was agreed with Singapore in December while a deal with Canada is expected to be completed imminently. Negotiations with Japan are expected to be launched in Tokyo in April, meaning that the EU will spend the next year brokering trade deals with the two largest world economies. In contrast to the EU's budget talks, there's nothing inward looking about that.

It is also a welcome sign that leaders are recognising that trade is the single most effective alternative to austerity. The collapse of the Doha round of WTO trade talks in 2005 followed by the financial crisis did real damage to world trade and to the European economy. One of the little-noticed developments in economic policy in recent years has been the glut of protectionist measures. The World Trade Organisation stated earlier this year that only 18 per cent of the trade restricting measures adopted by G20 countries since 2008 have been scrapped, amounting to a total loss of 3 per cent of world trade - equivalent to some €350bn.

But while the drive towards trade marks a decisive shift in priorities by the EU, it is also hugely significant to the debate on Britain's continued EU membership and to the Conservative Party's attitude to Europe.

One of the common lines of attack from the 'better off out' brigade is that, shorn of its EU shackles, Britain would be able to go around agreeing its own free trade deals. In response, one of the most convincing argument in favour of Britain being at the heart of Europe is that together we're stronger. In the EU we are one of the most powerful players in a bloc of 27 countries and 500 million people. Outside, we are, at best, a medium-sized power. When it comes to dealing with the likes of the US and Japan, few can seriously claim that Britain on its own would have as much negotiating clout as the whole of Europe.

Besides, an EU pursuing a free trade agenda should be like manna from heaven for most moderate Tories. It should also pacify those who grumble that the EU should be about trade, not political union. At the very least, if the EU continues the shift towards using its muscle to drive international trade deals it will becoming increasingly difficult for Conservative eurosceptics to maintain that we are better off out.

A couple of days before last week's summit, the Europe minister, David Lidington, told reporters that, come 2017, he and David Cameron wanted to be "campaigning with enthusiasm for a 'yes' vote". On his wish list, alongside less EU regulation and a liberalisation of the services sector, was the "fantastic prize" of a transatlantic trade deal. In Lidington's words, failing to go for it would be "betraying future generations". Cameron himself said today that an EU/US agreement would "create jobs on both sides of the Atlantic and make our countries more prosperous." It looks as though his wish may yet be granted.

It goes without saying that a transatlantic trade agreement is far from a fait accompli. Both sides like to subsidise large parts of their economy - particularly farming - and both will be under pressure from powerful internal lobby groups hoping to strangle the baby before it is born. But the EU and US have, nonetheless, made a bold statement of intent which could eventually lead to a seismic change in the world economy.

Ben Fox is a reporter for EU Observer. He writes in a personal capacity

European Commission President José Manuel Barroso speaks following a summit with US President Barack Obama as European Council President Herman Van Rompuy looks on. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Appearing in a book is strange – being an actual character must be stranger

Much as it jolts me to come across a reference to my music in something I'm reading, at least it's not me.

I was happily immersed in the world of a novel the other day, Rachel Elliott’s Whispers Through a Megaphone, when suddenly I was jolted back into reality by my own appearance in the book. One of the characters hears someone singing and is told, “‘It’s Leonora. She sings with her window open.’ ‘She’s good – sounds like Tracey Thorn.’ ‘She does, doesn’t she.’”

It was as if I’d walked on stage while still being in the audience. It’s happened to me before, and is always startling, a kind of breaking of the fourth wall. From being the reader, addressed equally and anonymously, you become, even momentarily, a minor character or a representative of something. In this instance it was flattering, but the thing is, you have no control over what the writer uses you to mean.

In David Nicholls’s Starter for Ten, set in the mid-Eighties, the lead character, Brian – a hapless student, failing in both love and University Challenge – hopes that he is about to have sex with a girl. “We stay up for an hour or so, drinking whisky, sitting on the bed next to each other and talking and listening to Tapestry and the new Everything But the Girl album.” Ah, I realised, here I represent the kind of singer people listen to when they’re trying, though possibly failing, to get laid.

Fast-forward a few years, to the mid-Nineties of Bret Easton Ellis’s Glamorama, a book constructed from lists of people and things, clothes and music, which apparently indicate the vacuousness of modern life. “I dash into the Paul Smith store on Bond Street, where I purchase a smart-looking navy-gray raincoat. Everything But the Girl’s ‘Missing’ plays over everything” and later, “In the limo heading toward Charing Cross Road Everything But the Girl’s ‘Wrong’ plays while I’m studying the small white envelope . . .” Here I’m being used to represent the way bands become briefly ubiquitous: our songs are a soundtrack to the sleazy glamour of the novel.

These mentions are all fine; it’s only the music that features, not me. Spotting yourself as an actual character in someone’s novel must be more shocking: one of the perils of, for instance, being married to a novelist. I think of Claire Bloom and Philip Roth. First she wrote a memoir about how ghastly it was being married to him, then he wrote a novel about how ghastly it was to be married to someone very like her. Books as revenge: that’s very different indeed.

Few people who had ever met Morrissey emerged from his memoir unscathed (me included), but particularly Geoff Travis of Rough Trade. He was hung, drawn and quartered in the book, yet seems to have maintained a dignified silence. But it’s hard knowing how to deal with real people in memoirs. In mine, I chose not to name one character, a boy who broke my 18-year-old heart. Feverish speculation among old friends, all of whom guessed wrong, proved how much attention they’d been paying to me at the time. I also wrote about my teenage band, the Marine Girls, and then sent the chapter to the other members for approval. Which led to a fresh outbreak of hostilities and not-speaking, 25 years after we’d broken up. Don’t you just love bands?

Worrying about any of this would stop anyone ever writing anything. Luckily it didn’t deter John Niven, whose scabrous music-biz novel, Kill Your Friends, mixes larger-than-life monsters such as the fictional A&R man Steven Stelfox with real people: and not just celebs (Goldie, the Spice Girls), but record company executives (Ferdy Unger-Hamilton, Rob Stringer) known best to those of us in the biz, and presumably thrilled to have made it into a book. John confirmed to me recently: “In the end I got more grief from people I left out of the book than those I put in. Such is the ego of the music industry. I heard of one executive who bought about 30 copies and would sign them for bands, saying, ‘This was based on me.’ You create the Devil and people are lining up to say, ‘Yep. I’m that guy.’”

In other words, as I suspected, there’s only one thing worse than being written about. 

Tracey Thorn is a musician and writer, best known as one half of Everything but the Girl. She writes the fortnightly “Off the Record” column for the New Statesman. Her latest book is Naked at the Albert Hall.

This article first appeared in the 06 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred