The EU isn't too big to fail, but it is too important to

Contrary to Nigel Lawson, the EU is not a monstrous bureaucracy, but the policy mix of austerity and reform is failing.

I spoke at the Annual European University Institute "State of the Union" conference yesterday. It takes place in the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence, adorned with 500 year old frescoes commemorating the first Florentine Republic after the expulsion of the Medicis – a good reminder that the process of European integration has deep roots.

There was a lot of realism – about the continuing challenge of the euro crisis, about the long-term nature of structural reform, about the gulf between too many citizens and European governance. But there was also a deep determination to preserve the gains of the past – for example in President Barroso’s speech – and wherever I went, a desire to see Britain as part of the European future. In my contribution, in the session on governance and institutions, I made five points.

First, that the debate about legitimacy and efficiency/delivery is happening all over the world. The Chinese are thinking about it; the Americans are debating it in the discussion of 'gridlock'; it is part of the debate in the Arab world as governments elected after the revolutions of 2011 are faced with real economic and social choice. In Europe, legitimacy has two elements – the 'one nation one vote' principle embodied in the European Council, and the 'one person one vote' principle in the European Parliament. The danger for the EU – as elsewhere – is whether legitimacy AND efficiency is missing.

Second, the protest politics in Britain, Italy and elsewhere, is not just (or primarily) about frustration with the EU; it speaks fundamentally to frustration with the traditional politics of centre-right and centre-left, and the desire for a new political alternative. For me, that is about rejuvenating social democracy, but there is no point in hiding that a traditional social democratic offer of social justice through state redistribution is not going to work or sell.

Third, the EU’s biggest problem is its delivery deficit, not its democratic deficit. This is not a new tune of mine, but while some of the EU’s work is very good indeed – I have just spent two days in Brussels preparing for my International Rescue Committee role and learning about some outstanding European development work in crisis-hit places – the policy mix in response to the economic crisis is still some way from bringing closer the light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t buy the Nigel Lawson argument that the EU is a monstrous and marauding bureaucracy, but the policy mix of austerity and reform is out of kilter with the economic needs in a balance sheet recession.

Fourth, there is a pressing and outstanding agenda for Europe’s soon to be 28 members, beyond the euro crisis. I won’t rehearse again what this covers, but the sense that there is traction on youth unemployment and migration is encouraging.

Finally, the twin narratives of Europe’s development so far – peace on the continent, and reunification after the fall of the Berlin Wall - need to be supplemented by a clarion call that Europe’s purpose is to help its citizens achieve prosperity and security in a 21st century marked by shifts in global power. This cannot be done at national level alone, nor by ad-hoc alliances around the globe to take forward trade promotion or security cooperation.

I don’t buy the argument that Europe is 'too big to fail'. But I do buy the case that it is too important to fail.

David Miliband is the incoming President and CEO of the International Rescue Committee

This piece originally appeared on his blog

The EU flag flies in front of the European Parliament in Strasbourg. Photograph: Getty Images.

David Miliband is the  President and CEO of the International Rescue Committee
He was foreign secretary from 2007 until 2010 and MP for South Shields from 2001 until this year. 

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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