Cameron's indulgence of Tory fantasies is weakening his hand in Europe

The PM's Ukip-style positioning on immigration is viewed as weakness or blackmail by the rest of the EU.

The best part of a year has passed since David Cameron’s speech promising to renegotiate the terms of Britain’s European Union membership and to put the ensuing deal to the country in a referendum. Since then, there hasn’t been much clarity about the kind of reforms that would persuade the Prime Minister to campaign for the "in" side.

We have learned something about what he doesn’t like. Or rather, we know that he has located the feature of current EU membership that seems most to inflame public hostility – free movement of workers between member states – and wants to be seen to be doing something about it.

On 1 January 2014, transitional controls that have limited the rights of Romanians and Bulgarians to live and work in the UK will be lifted. Nigel Farage is terribly excited by this prospect since it effectively launches Ukip’s campaign for May’s European parliamentary elections without him having to lift a finger. The Tories are putting in all the groundwork, ramping up the issue, reinforcing the impression that a horde of welfare-snaffling foreigners is massing on the border. Voters who are most animated by fear of a migrant tsunami will not believe the Conservatives can hold back the tide.

And they can’t. Cameron understands that free movement is an integral part of the single market. He has given private assurances to the European Commission that Britain will do nothing unilaterally that would breach existing rules. What he hopes to do is persuade other member states that those rules can, in time, be amended. In all likelihood that would mean adjustments to the accession arrangements for any future candidates for EU membership. Retrospectively clawing back rights from existing members or rewriting the very basis on which workers move around the bloc would require treaty revision on a scale that no other country wants to consider.

In other words, when Cameron says he is getting tough over the arrival of Bulgarians and Romanians in two weeks time, what he actually means is that he intends to start a conversation about a possible negotiation about what might theoretically happen with some Croatians at an unspecified point in the future.

Making announcements that sound like Ukip propaganda but without the policy of EU exit to support them is ultimately just an incitement to vote Ukip. Meanwhile, briefings from the Home Office that something drastic will be done serve only to nurture in Tory eurosceptic hardliners the hope that, if they push hard enough, Conservative policy will merge with Farage’s. (The government’s Immigration Bill has already been blown off course by a Tory backbench amendment calling for Britain to renege on its treaty obligations to Romania and Bulgaria.)

This situation is a source of bafflement and rising alarm in other European capitals. Most EU leaders and Brussels officials are prepared to engage with Cameron’s renegotiation ambitions to some extent because, by and large, they want Britain to stay in and they recognise that institutional reform is needed. It helps that the Prime Minister now talks more about pan-European changes than about unilateral "repatriation" of powers. When Cameron goes to Brussels, the carving out of custom-made exceptions for the UK – enjoying all the trading perks of open borders without any of the accompanying social and employment protections – is not seriously on the agenda. Yet that is the only kind of deal that many Tory sceptics would consider acceptable.

When Cameron allows his party to dwell on fantasies of a bespoke British EU package, the rest of Europe starts to lose patience. It is seen as either weakness – a failure to confront the Tory party with a realistic account of what is available in "renegotiation" – or it is viewed as a cynical game, ramping up euroscepticism, making the threat of exit seem ever more likely in the (mistaken) belief that this strengthens Britain’s hand. "We don’t like to use the word blackmail, but sometimes it is the word that comes naturally to your lips," one Commission official tells me.

Perhaps the most surprising element in all this is the Tory party’s willingness to indulge the pretence that Cameron has even embarked on a process of giving them what they want. There is really no evidence that he has. There will be a referendum in 2017, if the Tories form a government after the next election – and that is far from certain. Meanwhile, it remains the Prime Minister’s stated policy to support continued EU membership in that vote. When does he suppose he will fit in the negotiations to secure a deal that doesn’t tear his party in half? He shows no intention of starting soon. Is such a deal even possible? The rest of Europe – led by Germany – is eager to find some accommodation, but they can’t help if they don’t really know what it is that Cameron wants. (And there are divergent views between the parties in Germany’s ruling coalition and within them of how far Berlin should go to accommodate Britain.)

Cameron’s European strategy as it currently stands is to ramp up domestic expectations of a deal that fundamentally changes the basic principles on which the EU operates, while doing none of the diplomacy abroad to make such an outcome even remotely plausible. It is the approach a Prime Minister would take if he didn’t really care one way or the other if Britain stayed in the EU or drifted towards the exit. It is the course that might be expected from a Prime Minister who would rather not engage with the arguments if doing so conflicts with the task of appeasing habitually disloyal backbenchers and fomenting Ukip-friendly, anti-EU hysteria in the process. As a plan for leading the Conservative party that is short-sighted enough. As a way to lead the country it is desperately irresponsible.

David Cameron speaks during a press conference at an EU Council meeting on October 25, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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"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. 

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