Summit: Something for Everybody

From the beginning, last week's Common Market summit was called the "summit of modest expectations." Faced with the most severe complex of crises since the European Community was set up 17 years ago, the heads of the nine countries would succeed in Paris, according to one rather gloomy line of reasoning, if they did nothing more than agree to stay together. In the end, they did just that--and a little bit more--in what might be described as a summit of modest results.

The main question on the agenda was what the French like to call le probleme Britannique. Since Harold Wilson's Labor government was elected last February, the British have warned that they would not stay in the Market unless the terms of membership were revised to give them a better break on Community finances. (Britain claims that by 1980 it will pay 24% of the Market's budget, while it will have only 14% of the total EEC G.N.P.)

Campaign Pledge. The uncertainty as to whether Britain, with one-fifth of the group's population, would stay or go has stymied all major Market decisions ever since, as well as causing considerable confusion in Britain's own business affairs. Though Wilson and a majority of his Cabinet now seem convinced that Britain cannot risk the cost of leaving the Common Market, they must stick by their campaign pledge to put the issue to a national referendum, and they desperately need at least concessions from the other eight to convince the British electorate.

After patient prodding by West German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt, who within the past month seems to have emerged as West Europe's leader, seven of the eight were willing to give Wilson the talisman he needs to wave in front of the voters. France, which had called the summit, was less willing, and for a few hours, President Valery Giscard d'Estaing (see page 37) sounded more Gaullist than le grand Charles. "There can be nothing of this kind," Giscard acidly said about Wilson's demands at one heated bargaining session. "Conceding what the British Prime Minister wants could mean that the United Kingdom will remain in the Community. However, almost nothing will remain of that Community." Replied Wilson: "If what you say, Mr. President, is to be the definitive view of the Community, then I see no hope whatever of successful negotiations."

Ever the pragmatist, Giscard knew that he was isolated, and he accepted a Belgian-Italian compromise. While it gave Wilson essentially what he wanted, the compromise was described in opaque bureaucratese that cleverly disguised its real meaning. According to the protocol, the EEC will "create a correcting mechanism that could prevent during the period of convergence of the economies of the member states the possible development of situations unacceptable for a member state." Translation: if a country's economy goes sour, its budget contribution may be reduced. That ambiguous phraseology protected delicate French sensibilities but, at the same time, allowed the British press to claim a famous victory.

The British papers, which have not had much cheer for Britons lately, did, in fact, trumpet the news. DISCARD BOWS TO WILSON, headlined the Tory Daily Telegraph. WILSON BATTLES TO A SUMMIT WIN ON POINTS, proclaimed the Guardian. A top Foreign Office official allowed that "we have turned the corner in the negotiations." "We have undoubtedly made progress," a pleased Wilson told reporters. "It was not easy. It was hard to get. But there was a considerable atmosphere of good will about to enable us to get it." Foreign Secretary James Callaghan moved up the government's timetable and said that it might decide by late January how and when it would put the Common Market question to a national vote, a step never before taken in Britain.

Lion's Share. Like Wilson, every other leader got a little of what he wanted in Paris. Italy and Ireland, the two poorest members of the Community, were promised the lion's share of a $1.5 billion fund for regional development; most of the money will come from West Germany and The Netherlands. Schmidt, for his part, was pleased that he had been able to convince other leaders of the seriousness of the world economic situation and to achieve at least some unity on anti-inflation and antirecession policies. Basically, the new unity means that Bonn, which has been deflating its economy to fight inflation, will now try to boost it to combat recession, a step most of the other countries took some time ago. The agreement to coordinate policy allowed Giscard to tell President Ford in Martinique that the Market shared the same broad views on the economic crisis. Only on energy did the meeting bog down. Not knowing what to do about high oil prices, the Nine simply ignored them. On defense policies the Nine are at greater odds.

At a meeting of NATO defense ministers in Brussels, both Italy and Britain were criticized by their European allies and by a U.S. delegation headed by Secretary of Defense James Schlesinger for their plans to help their economies by cutting back on arms.

Even Giscard got something from the Paris Summit. The leaders agreed to adopt his proposals for basic institutional changes in the Community, which may eventually prove even more important than a decision by Britain to remain. Giscard received approval for a majority vote on most Community decisions. Until now, each country has been able to exercise veto power on even the most trivial matters; in the future, it will have the veto only on issues affecting its vital interests.

Banning Pomp. The French President also won approval for more regular meetings of the heads of government--or the European Council, as they are now called when they come together --with at least three sessions scheduled each year. As the host at last week's meeting, Giscard had taken elaborate pains to emphasize that it was not a summit in the usual sense, and he had asked that each leader look on it as if it were a meeting of his own domestic Cabinet. Only the heads of government and their foreign ministers attended the main meetings in the Salon de 1'Horloge of the Quai d'Orsay; in the past, delegations often numbered 20 or more. There was also a concerted and largely successful effort to ensure a kind of Cabinet secrecy by barring the usual leaks to the press. Protocol was kept to a minimum, and pomp was virtually banned. Giscard even asked his colleagues to wear business suits to a dinner at the Elysee Palace. Considering the place and the occasion, that was almost like saying: Come in T shirts and sneakers.

Giscard's purpose was to emphasize that such sessions should be so common and accepted in the European family that no one should make a fuss. "When the civil servants meet, they never take any decisions," said one of his aides. "When the foreign ministers meet, they take a few. We must get together the men who really control power in their countries, the heads of government, if we are to take the difficult decisions that face us." Assessing the conference, Italian Premier Aldo Moro said that "the Europe convened here in Paris is a Europe whose mechanisms do not yet function properly. But it exists, and realizes its duty to exist, for itself and for the rest of the world. What prevails is not a blind optimism, but a confidence which is nourished on realism." Giscard called it the "last European summit--or the first of the regular European Councils." He added: "The European summit is dead. Long live the European Council."

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