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.
GETTY
Show Hide image

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