French Relations with the European Union

French Relations with the European Union This book, drawing on research from British and French scholars, examines how key actors within French politics and society have related to the challenges and opportunities posed by the European Union, and how these relations have driven or hindered change in France. The collection invites the reader to look below the surface image of a France troubled by its relations with the EU in the post-cold war era, and see the dynamics of change in empirical detail. Each chapter offers insights into specific aspects of the France-EU relationship, including: • The characteristics of Euroscepticism à la française amongst the electorate and political parties. • The dynamics of change in the political, media and legal establishments in their dealings with the EU. • The priorities for labour, business and la vie associative in their relations with French decision-makers regarding the EU. French Relations with the European Union will appeal to readers interested in European integration, French government, politics and society, and area studies. Helen Drake is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Politics, International Relations and European Studies, Loughborough University. Her research and teaching interests are in French politics, language and society, and European integration. She is also the author of Jacques Delors: Perspectives on a European Leader.

Europe and the nation state Edited by Michael Burgess Centre for Federal Studies, Kent and Lee Miles Europe in the World Centre, University of Liverpool

This series explores the complex relationship between nation-states and European integration and the political, social, economic and policy implications of this interaction. The series examines issues such as: • the impact of the EU on the politics and policy-making of the nation-state and vice versa • the effects of expansion of the EU on individual nation-states in Europe • the relationship between the EU and non-European nation-states 1 Poland and the European Union Edited by Karl Cordell 2 Greece in the European Union Edited by Dionyssis G.Dimitrakopoulos and Argyris G.Passas 3 The European Union and Democratization Edited by Paul J.Kubicek 4 Iceland and European Integration On the edge Edited by Baldur Thorhallsson 5 Norway Outside the European Union Norway and European integration from 1994 to 2004 Clive Archer 6 Turkey and European Integration Prospects and issues in the post-Helsinki era Edited by Mehmet Uğur and Nergis Canefe 7 Perspectives on EU-Russia Relations Edited by Debra Johnson and Paul Robinson 8 French Relations with the European Union Edited by Helen Drake

French Relations with the European Union Edited by Helen Drake

Routledge Taylor & Francis Group LONDON AND NEW YORK

First published 2005 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “ To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to http://www.ebookstore.tandf.co.uk/.” © 2005 Helen Drake for selection and editorial material; individual contributors their contributions All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-61346-5 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-35246-7 (Adobe e-reader Format) ISBN 0-415-30576-4 (Print Edition)

Contents List of illustrations

vi

List of contributors

viii

Foreword

x

Acknowledgements

xi

1 1 Perspectives on French relations with the European Union: an introduction HELEN DRAKE 18 2 How French policy-makers see themselves OLIVIER COSTA AND JEAN-PASCAL DALOZ 36 3 French Euroscepticism and the politics of indifference CHRIS FLOOD 4 Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond: the troubled evolution of the French 55 right NICK STARTIN 5 The Conseil d’État and Europe: adapting the French administrative state 75 MICHEL MANGENOT 92 6 Protection, reform and political will: France and the European social model SUSAN MILNER 7 The French press and the European Union: the challenge of Community 109 news OLIVIER BAISNÉE 8 La vie associative and the state: unequal partners in the French debate on 129 Europe JULIEN WEISBEIN 144 9 Towards a new French strategy for Europe? Concluding remarks HELEN DRAKE Bibliography

153

Index

164

Illustrations Figures

4.1 Is EC/EU membership a ‘bad thing’?

57

4.2 To which vision of Europe do you adhere?

62

4.3 Percentage agreeing that the EU is a risk to French sovereignty

63

4.4 Percentage agreeing that enlargement of the EU to Eastern Europe 65 is desirable 4.5 Is the issue of EU integration more salient for the French electorate since Maastricht?

66

4.6 Was opposition to the EU the main reason for the creation of the RPF in 1999?

68

4.7 Is the EU capable of contributing to a realignment of the right in France?

69

Tables

1.1 Results of the 2004 elections to the European Parliament, France

6

3.1 Association between attitudes towards France’s membership of the EU and attitudes towards its hypothetical dissolution

38

3.2 Association of left-right self-placement with responses to three questions

42

3.3 Association of left-right self-placement with responses rejecting EU-level decision-making in specific policy areas

43

3.4 Formerly or currently Eurosceptical parties with approximate indications of their policy positions in a range of areas

44

4.1 The results of the 1999 European elections in France

60

Contributors Olivier Baisnée was a researcher at the Centre de Recherches sur l’action politique en Europe, Institute of Political Studies, Rennes, France until July 2004, and thereafter post-doctorant in the CERAPS research team, Faculty of Law and Political Science, University of Lille, and Institute of Political Studies, Lille, France. Ph. D. awarded in November 2003 on the European media coverage of EU affairs. Has published and presented numerous conference papers on the subject of the European media, and on the ecologist movement in France. Olivier Costa is CNRS Senior Researcher in Political Science, Institute of Political Studies, Bordeaux, France, and Visiting Professor at the College of Europe (Bruges) and at the Free University, Brussels. Research interests include the study of EU governance and legitimisation, and the comparative anlysis of representation in Europe. Author of Le Parlement européen, assemblée délibérante (Éditions de l’Univer-sité de Bruxelles, 2001), and of many articles and chapters about the EU’s institutions and policies. Jean-Pascal Daloz is Senior CNRS researcher in Political Science, Institute of Political Studies (CERVL), Bordeaux, France; previously at the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Areas of research specialisation include the comparative study of political elites and leadership, cultural analysis in comparative politics, and the symbolic aspects of political representation. His publications include single-authored, edited and co-edited works on European and African politics, many chapters in edited works, and numerous articles in journals, including Comparative Social Research, Comparative Sociology, Revue internationale de politique comparée, Les Temps modernes and Politique africaine. Helen Drake is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Politics, International Relations and European Studies at Loughborough University. Author of Jacques Delors: Perspectives on a European Leader (Routledge, 2000; and in translation [Jacques Delors en Europe] with Presses universitaires de Strasbourg, 2002), and of articles on French European and international relations in French Politics, Journal of European Public Policy, Modern and Contemporary France, and Politique européenne, and several chapters in edited books. Chris Flood is Professor of European Studies, University of Surrey. Has written widely on aspects of French political and intellectual life. Author of books on political myth and on the political thought of Paul Claudel, as well as editor/co-editor of works on contemporary French intellectual currents, French ideologies, and topics in twentiethcentury French history. His recent publications have focused on Euroscepticism in France, Britain or the EU and on the French extreme right. Michel Mangenot is French representative at the EIPA (European Institute of Public Administration), Maastricht, Netherlands. Ph. D. in political science from the University Robert Schuman-Strasbourg (December 2000); temporary lecturer, then associate researcher from 2001–3 to the GSPE (Group of European Political

Sociology) research team at the Institute of Political Studies, Strasbourg, France. In 2003 he undertook research for the French Ministry of Justice on the creation of Eurojust. One part of his thesis is to be published as De l’Etat à l’Europe in 2004. He is also the author of several articles on the Europeanisation of l’ENA (L’Ecole nationale d’administration), in Politix, 43, 1998; on the administrative style of the European Commission (Pôle Sud 15, 2001); and the General Secretariat of the European Commission (Politique européenne 11, 2003). He has written chapters in La Question technocratique (Presses universitaires de Strasbourg, 1999); Le rôle des minstères des Finances dans la construction européenne (CHEFF, 2002), and L’Institutionnalisation de l’Europe (Harmattan, 2004). Susan Milner is Reader in European Studies, University of Bath. Current research interests include family and employment in France and the UK; employment relations; social capital and urban governance in France and Italy. Most recent publications include articles and chapters on trade unions in France, local identities and territorial politics in Italy and France, Europeanisation and Euroscepticism in France, and globalisation and employment in France. Nick Startin is Lecturer in European Studies (French) at the University of the West of England, Bristol. His Ph. D. at Brunel University, Department of Government, examines the potential of Europe as a realigning issue on the right in France. M. Phil. from the University of Birmingham entitled ‘French Political Parties, Europe and the Maastricht Treaty’. Has published and presented conference papers on France and the European Union, and on the National Front. Julien Weisbein has been Lecturer in Political Science at the Institute of Political Studies, Toulouse, France, since 1999. Previously was a teaching assistant at Sciences Po (Institute of Political Studies), Paris, and a researcher at the French Ministry for European Affairs (1996–7). Ph. D. thesis in political sociology on the construction of European citizenship—the role of voluntary organisations—completed in November 2001. Numerous published articles and chapters on the subjects of EU and political lobbying, voluntary associations, new social movements and citizenship.

Foreword France has always enjoyed a complex relationship with the rest of the European Union (EU). On the one hand, France’s reputation, correctly or incorrectly, in the EU has been that of a leading pro-integrationist player, a key and influential member of Europe’s core with a strong predisposition, especially under the presidential leadership of François Mitterrand, towards establishing a‘Federal Europe’. On the other hand, France is simultaneously perceived as a highly nationalistic state, shaped by past legacies of Gaullism, that has not always implemented the letter of EC law. Of course, there are inaccuracies in both these profiles and the truth no doubt lies somewhere in-between. Nevertheless, whatever France’s past, present and future reputation in the Union one thing is also certain—namely, French perspectives on European integration will remain a significant influence shaping the future direction of the European Union. A confident, stable and pro-integrationist France is, in many ways, an essential prerequisite for a successful EU of the future, especially as the Union continues to forge ahead with a constitutional agenda, deeper integration and further enlargement. This new study edited by Helen Drake seeks to explore many of the facets of France’s relations with the European Union from a number of important perspectives. The chapters are particularly illuminating and illustrate the tensions among the tiers of French government, party system and society on questions of European integration. The reader is left with a deeper understanding of what France ‘thinks’ about, and how French actors perceive the European Union. This new text on France therefore represents a valuable and logical addition to the Europe and the Nation State book series. Written in an accessible style, the series invites leading scholars and ongoing researchers to explore the challenges that the European Union and European integration more generally imply for the political dynamics of nation-states. Drake’s new book should be read by those wishing to understand not just French perspectives of European integration but also the complexity of attitudes that European integration often engenders. Lee Miles, Europe in the World Centre (EWC), The University of Liverpool, September 2004

Acknowledgements This book has been a long time in the writing, and my first thanks go to all its contributors for their detailed and knowledgeable chapters of course, and for their cooperation and encouragement throughout. Grace McInnes of Routledge and Lee Miles, series editor, have also been supportive and patient. For their financial support, I thank the British Academy (Small Research Grant SG35607). I am also grateful to UACES (University Association of Contemporary European Studies) for its Study Group Award relating to this project, and for the friendly back-up and support that its office always provides. I thank too the French Embassy in London and the ASFP’s (Association française de Sciences Politique) ‘Europe’ group for jointly financing the meetings of authors that were so important for a collaborative venture of this kind. David Stirling at Loughborough has provided me with invaluable assistance in the technical aspects of preparing the manuscript, and Alistair Cole and David Howarth have acted as trusted advisers to the whole project. Christian Lequesne and other colleagues in Paris gave their time generously to answer my questions, and Thomas Liébault alerted me to information that I may otherwise have missed. Thanks to my colleagues and our research students in the Department of Politics, International Relations and European Studies at Loughborough for their supportive interest, and to our Library staff for their expertise. My family and close friends, finally, are the vital factor in all of this. All the French authors subjected their chapters to my translation, and any errors arising from that process are definitely mine, as are any others that readers may find in this volume.

1 Perspectives on French relations with the European Union An introduction Helen Drake Relations between the EU and France are neither simple nor easy. (Moreau Defarges, ‘The View from France’)

Introduction This collection aims to explore and refine dominant images of a France disconcerted by the demands of its relations with the European Union in the early twenty-first century. French relations with the European Union (EU) in the early twenty-first century certainly seemed troubled and unpredictable. For at least a decade France had been episodically at odds with at least some of the institutions, rules, policies, or other member states of the European Union. Just as significant, Paris seemed to lack a sense of strategic direction where its European policy was concerned. These difficulties had combined to project an image of defensive and, importantly, prolonged eurofrilosité (Frank, 2002), or wariness, which was uncharacteristic, from a historical perspective of French membership of the EU. France, it would appear, ‘still has doubts about the direction in which Europe is moving’ (Bell, 2002, p. 228). Moreau-Defarges (2003, p. 109) has described France as both tétanisée (paralysed) in the face of such self-inflicted transformations and as ‘comfortable in the European club’ most of the time (p. 120); and the chapters in this volume each scratch at these images of a France both resistant to and embracing of change wrought by connections with Brussels. The notion of image seems important here, since it is not at all difficult to detect in current French discourse on Europe a recurrent theme; namely, that of France seeking to claw back its traditional influence in the EU by, amongst other things, restoring its credibility with its partners, as well as with its own population. Together, the chapters offer an analysis of political and social elite actors—their attitudes, values and behaviours—in a variety of institutional settings. These actors include political leaders, but not exclusively so. In taking this perspective, the volume explicitly recognises, first, that ‘institutions do not make decisions. Actors make decisions and they do so on the basis of their preferences and beliefs’ (Elgie, 2003, p. 242). Actors, moreover, constitute the ‘forces at work in France’ (Bell, 2002, p. 15). Our focus on institutions is secondary, although, inevitably, it is very much present: all chapters prioritise the analysis of actors in their institutional context. Second, this outlook

French relations with the European Union

2

acknowledges the traditional emphasis placed on the role and influence of key individuals in the making of French policy towards the EU—and in the building of Europe itself. It recognises that for a number of reasons France’s relationship with the EU has been shaped, expressed and mediated by powerful individuals in the forefront of the political game, setting, shaping and breaking the rules of engagement. Many of these factors are products of French political culture, and the presidentialism of the Fifth Republic; yet others of the generally relentless hunt for the human factor and foible in the political process. The origins of the EU in the 1950s have themselves been fairly described as ‘one of the most creative acts of statesmanship’ (Bell, 2002, p. 226). Presidents of the Fifth Republic from Charles de Gaulle to Jacques Chirac have exercised personal authority to shape European-level decisions. De Gaulle’s successors in this respect all drew on his unique interpretation of the French constitution for their inspiration and latitude. A second pedigree of influential Frenchmen, in the guise of so-called ‘statesmen of interdependence’, from Jean Monnet to Jacques Delors and Valéry Giscard d’Estaing (as president of the Convention on the Future of Europe, 2002–3), have set the agenda for these decisions by flexing their authority as European-level leaders. The volume also examines a range of other French elite actors and, specifically, their responses to changes and the opportunities perceived to arise from ‘Europe’. We look to the conduct of influential individuals connected to the making of French policy towards the EU—in the French political and legal establishments, in the press, in the trade unions, in political parties, in la vie associative that is so central to the fabric of French daily life—for evidence of different thinking, new language, or otherwise altered norms in their relations with Europe. We are particularly interested in the représentations that various actors hold of their role. This sociological notion, central to much French-language analysis of European integration, is probably best summed up in the notion of the perceptions held by and about these individuals, their constraints, opportunities and modus operandi. We pursue this line of enquiry into France’s elites in the full knowledge of the backdrop in contemporary France where the credibility gap between the socio-economic elites and their constituencies (notably the electorate) is gaping wider than ever, as the 2002–4 electoral cycle demonstrated; where trust has been lost and is thus at a premium. In the specific case of European matters, claims Moreau-Defarges (2003, p. 114), ‘The gap between European integration and French perceptions of integration remains huge— too huge’. One reason he gives for this is the lack of commitment on the part of social elites to explain matters accurately. To this we can add a lack of commitment to formal training in the French education system, even (especially) at the highest levels, about the European dimension of French life; certainly in comparison with, for example, the UK. Several of our chapters demonstrate the communication problems encountered in conveying the realities of ‘Europe’ to an increasingly indifferent public. This is all the more reason to look for signs of change or resistance to change amongst these influential and sometimes powerful individuals. The volume does not set out to offer an exhaustive analysis of all significant elites in the frame of French-EU relations. It does however take a sample of cases of behaviours with which particularly strong images are associated, and challenges these rather familiar notions with the benefit of detailed empirical observation and conceptually rich interpretation.

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

3

Where does this approach place us within the literatures that study relations between the EU and its member states? Bulmer and Lequesne (2002, 2005) have reviewed the various theoretical and empirical approaches to this subject, making in passing the point that many empirical studies of EU-member state relations do not explicitly attach themselves to a precise theoretical school or thought or even conceptual framework. Nor is our primary aim to nourish or test a given theoretical approach per se. This volume was conceived on the basis, first, of an observation: that within the study of French relations with the EU the role of individuals and agency was relatively under-represented within national government and political structures, and in society more broadly. Second, our working assumption was that this level of analysis, what Bulmer and Lequesne refer to as the study of ‘micro-sociological’ perspectives (2002, p. 29), would inform us and the reader about important trends and processes which inform, however subtly, the processes of French EU policy-making below the political summits. We sought to contrast the realities of these processes with the more dominant images of French EU policy-making that French leaders themselves have typically not troubled themselves to correct. Such a focus seems all the more pertinent since by the early 2000s the discourse of domestic reform explicitly referred to the goal of reviving the Republic by attention to its many tiers of individuals, actors and activity, from local through to European level. Such a discourse, moreover, explicitly welcomed the opportunity for French-EU relations to be modernised and improved. Drawing in this volume on contributions from the UK and French political science communities, furthermore, has allowed us to develop, collectively, a range of approaches to the analysis of significant actors in the field. As a result, the following chapters represent a deliberate diversity of focal points and methodologies from quantitative data analysis (Flood, Startin), to discourse analysis (Milner) and sociologically inspired interviews with elite actors (Costa and Daloz, Baisnée, Mangenot). Overall, our approach is essentially inductive, since we seek to explain specific phenomena observed in the realities of French relations with the EU, using the most appropriate conceptual and methodological tools in each case. In the remainder of this chapter we review the various contexts which form the backdrop to French relations with the European Union in the 2000s. Jacques Chirac inherited Mitterrand’s unfinished business, and Franco-European relations were always going to look different, and be just as difficult, as under Chirac’s predecessor. Chirac’s inheritance specifically included the weight of the Gaullist past; growing public indifference to Europe, with its roots in Mitterrand’s 1992 Maastricht referendum; altered relations with Germany; declining presidential autonomy; and a fast-moving international context. We conclude the chapter with a more detailed survey of how the following chapters, individually and collectively, explore this terrain.

The contexts of change Since 1950, French political leaders had felt themselves compelled (Parsons, 2000) to drive European integration forward in a mainly continuous manner, and had chalked up many successful initiatives to their names, not least the single currency of 2002, despite a small number of early, failed attempts to ‘jump off the European train’ (Moreau-

French relations with the European Union

4

Defarges, 2003, p. 116). But by the early 2000s signs of resistance to this momentum, even outright opposition, had made themselves known within French politics and society, with the Maastricht referendum of 1992 marking a turning-point in this respect. The opening years of the twenty-first century were in many respects marked by discontinuities and a loss of pace with respect to France’s commitment to la construction européenne, due as much to external events as to changes of government or president. The days of French claims to a monopoly of political, intellectual and moral leadership of European integration appeared to have been a twentieth-century phenomenon. Indeed, twenty-first century French political leadership of the European question seemed in short supply, in comparison with the demands from various sources—not necessarily aggregated or organised demands—for a more, different, or better ‘Europe’. As a political system that France helped bring into being, the European Union poses challenges of many orders to all its member states; it is more than the sum of its parts. In the case of France, and only in the case of France, membership of the EU derives from a strong and pervasive sense of imperative, or lack of alternative, that dates back to the Fourth Republic (1946–58) and the foundations of what we know today as the EU. In fact, Parsons (2000, 2003) has demonstrated that in those years the ‘community’ option for la construction européenne was not the only means of reaching France’s primary foreign policy objective—national security via reconciliation with Germany—others being the ‘traditional’ or ‘confederal’ methods of European cooperation; but it had the most supporters, fewest opponents, and the best luck. Once France had embarked upon European community-building, the leaders of the Fifth Republic (Charles de Gaulle included) turned France’s European commitment into a virtue and a vehicle for its top foreign policy objectives of rank and greatness (grandeur), via defiant shows of national sovereignty and independence and a constant balancing act between integration and autonomy (MoreauDefarges, 2003, p. 106). This self-inflicted need for France to relate successfully to the institutions, policies and emerging norms of the European Communities has entailed compromise. Compromise between the national sovereignty at the essence of French national identity, and the transfers of sovereignty required to make the European Communities/Union function; between national pride at France’s trappings of independent world status, and the economic and political capability and clout that comes through interdependence with European partners; between the integration needed for open (lucrative) but buffered trade, and the national autonomy required to preserve a sense of identity (Moreau-Defarges, 2003, p. 111); between Charles de Gaulle and Jean Monnet as competing symbols of French leadership of the European ‘project’. These are compromises achieved by a permanent balancing act that have themselves become an integral part of contemporary Frenchness. They have complicated the sense of national republican identity, and defied the French to stay untouched by the institutions and practices that they conjured into being. These compromises have become irrevocable and increasingly tangible, as the scope of European integration has expanded. They have, accordingly, become part of French political and, more broadly, domestic life. Indeed, in the campaign for the 2004 elections to the European Parliament the government used precisely this theme—of the relevance of ‘Europe’ to people’s daily lives—in an attempt to persuade them to turn out and vote, and so stem the decline in public enthusiasm for Europe. The opening years of the twenty-first century had been

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

5

problematic in this respect. By the time of the 2002 presidential and legislative elections, the picture regarding France’s relations with the EU was blurred, and the elections as a whole mirrored France’s altered electoral and political context. France’s population as a whole had adopted the Euro with little or no protest in January 2002, and the authorities had planned the transition efficiently. Residual concerns in this respect were of a practical, consumer kind—worries about price inflation—rather than more abstract expressions of a loss of national identity or sovereignty (as was the case with much of the UK’s agonising over Euro-membership, for example); nostalgia for the franc has not come at the expense of a high and rising level of attachment to the new currency (European Opinion Research Group, 2003). A large majority of French political parties had ratified the Nice Treaty in the French National Assembly and Senate in the summer of 2001, and ‘Europe’ did not appear to feature in the campaign for the 2002 presidential election. Nevertheless, a significant minority—a fifth—of the same French population subsequently aligned with the anti-EU political far right in the presidential election the following April-May, and yet others voted in the first round of those elections for candidates whose platforms were heavily critical of ‘Europe’. On the political left, moreover, ‘Europe’ had for some time been treated uneasily as both cause of and cure for socio-economic ills; it had spurred the growth in support for the far left, for whom an economically integrated Europe acted as vector and multiplier for the worst effects of globalisation; and it had undermined the cohesion of the ‘plural left’ in government from 1997 to 2002, which fared so badly in the elections of 2002. The winners of the 2002 presidential and legislative elections—the moderate right, and Jacques Chirac—had not prioritised ‘Europe’ as an issue in their electoral campaigns, but had in fact made domestic policy promises that went on to clash in important respects with existing European policy commitments, which further tainted France’s image as an EU member state. These especially included populist-style tax cuts, not clearly linked to any overriding sense of economic doctrine as such. The losers principally the mainstream left—had not been able to conceal the internal ambiguity, doubts, and differences contained in their version of pro-Europeanism. Taken together, the winners and losers had supplied neither a clear vision of the future of Europe, nor a foolproof map for getting there. The electoral play-makers—the far right, and indirectly the handful of ‘other’ candidates for the presidential election—had exploited the situation to draw out and amplify, and project onto ‘Europe’, ambient fears and doubts in the French population and civil society about the future of France’s ‘exceptional’ socio-economic model in a world market. What turned out to be such a ‘strange affair’ (Cole, 2002) did undoubtedly spur the Chirac-Raffarin government into increased attention to European affairs, with Prime Minister Raffarin (6/12/02) explicitly linking his decentralisation reforms to the electoral events of 2002. He declared on this occasion: ‘We are going to change from one Europe to another, which means that France will have to change. And it will also be necessary to change the way we talk about Europe in the country.’ Yet in the 2004 elections to the European Parliament, the government was again defeated (see Table 1.1); this followed very poor results in the regional elections of March that year, when the left had stripped the right of all but two of its 22 regional councils. In the case of the European elections, the government could take some comfort

French relations with the European Union

6

from the fact that many other incumbent governments in the EU’s member states were similarly sanctioned. But at a time of ailing presidential and governmental credibility, the results were damaging.

Table 1.1 Results of the 2004 elections to the European Parliament, France Votes

% of registered voters

% of votes cast

Registered voters

41,518,225

−

−

Abstentions

23,754,576

57.21

−

Votes cast

17,763,649

42.79

−

594,968

1.43

3.35

Valid votes

17,168,681

41.35

96.65

Party lists

Votes

Blank and spoilt ballot papers

% of registered voters

Seats

PS (Socialist Party)

4,960,426

28.89

31

UMP (Union for a Popular Movement)

2,856,218

16.64

17

UDF (Union for French Democracy)

2,051,453

11.95

11

FN (National Front)

1,684,868

9.81

7

Verts (Greens)

1,271,134

7.40

6

Various Right (of which de Villier’s MPF— Movement for France)

1,516,645

8.83

3

(MPF: 6.7) PCF (Communist Party)

900,293

5.24

2

Various left (overseas territories)

231,047

1.35

1

Various (Divers)

592,043

3.45

0

LO-LCR

571,550

3.33

0

CPNT (Hunting, Fishing, Nature and Traditions)

297,293

1.73

0

Ecologists

166,397

0.97

0

0.31

0

0.09

0

MNR (National Republican Movement—Bruno Mégret)

53,605

Regionalists

15,709

Source: French Ministry of the Interior (http://www.interieur.gouv.fr/rubriques/b/b3_elections/b32_resultats/france.pdf).

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

7

Relations in the core French executive A further important aspect of the difficulties encountered by France’s leaders in its European policy in the 1990s and 2000s was the altered institutional framework in France for European policy-making, of both the history-making and routine kinds. In particular, the third recurrence, between 1997 and 2001, of cohabitation between a politically opposed president and prime minister, had compounded existing trends regarding the office of the French presidency: the French president’s autonomy (relative to the 14 heads of government in the European Council; and relative to the French prime minister and government) to decide upon European policy in the Gaullian style was further eroded by this five-year version of cohabitation. Partly as a consequence, France’s seemingly unique capacity to manufacture statesmen (but few women) able to convincingly express French national independence in terms of European interdependence was increasingly questionable. France’s reputation for providing the EU with a steady stream of statesmen and ideas had thus been eroded by the early 2000s; the advent of German and British political leaders aspiring to the intellectual leadership of an enlarged Europe only exacerbated the trend. Between 1997 and 2002, President Chirac and Prime Minister Jospin ended up jostling for their share of executive control over European policy, amongst other areas, simply by virtue of their rivalry for the forthcoming presidency to be contested in 2002. Just as significant, responsibility for European policy had over time become more diffuse, since ‘Europe’ was increasingly less a policy sector, as such, but rather a cross-cutting dimension of many policy areas falling under the direct control of the prime minister and government. Outside periods of cohabitation, in phases of so-called ‘hyper’ or ‘absolute’ presidentialism (as returned to France after the 2002 national elections under the new five-year long presidential mandate), this shared responsibility for ‘Europe’ within the core executive allowed the president to determine the precise balance of power and allocations, and to provide the guidelines if he so chose. Despite this, cohabitation in many ways simply masked the erosion of presidential autonomy in EU affairs, and concealed emerging new balances—and imbalances—of power within the French polity, some of which we explore in this volume. Following the right’s return to power in 2002 there was a surge of government activity designed to acknowledge the role that actors such as French MPs, MEPs and regional authorities can play in optimising France’s influence in Brussels, and we return to certain of these in more detail in the following chapters. Even President Chirac urged French MEPs to flex their muscles in the growingly powerful EP. Such shifts from France’s executive-centric relations with Brussels did not, however, prevent Jean-Pierre Raffarin entering into public conflict on several occasions in 2003 with one of ‘his’ European commissioners, Pascal Lamy—and with the Commission itself, which Raffarin memorably caricatured as ‘some office’ in a foreign country. This in itself was reminiscent of how Charles de Gaulle used to decry the EC’s emerging supranationalism. During cohabitation, however, and particularly between President Chirac and Prime Minister Jospin, the sharing process became prone to both conflict and stasis, and would appear on balance to have hindered what efforts were made during this time by French

French relations with the European Union

8

leaders to regain the initiative in Brussels—and Berlin; this despite the fact that, as Stevens claims (2003, p. 259), ‘Even under cohabitation, “high politics”, such as the French input into the negotiations leading to enlargement or treaty changes, have always been handled in the Elysée.’ The obstacles were as much in the realm of negative perceptions of cohabitation by France’s partners as a question of personal rivalries or practical, procedural obstacles; and the reduction of the presidential term from seven to five years would in any case make recurrences of cohabitation less likely. These negative aspects to the structures of French policy-making were compounded by the impact of the national French elections in 2002 on images of France abroad, and complicated by France’s strident diplomacy at large. Particularly acute were relations with Germany, and France’s transatlantic relations. Franco-German relations With respect to France’s relations with Germany, the Nice summit in December 2000 demonstrated particularly starkly the diplomatic difficulties that the two countries had been experiencing in the running of their relationship. These difficulties amounted to a decline of the habitual will to cooperate, which had been built up over the course of the EC/EU’s life, but which had been confronted with new facts of global life following Germany’s unification in 1990. The political figures of François Mitterrand and Helmut Kohl had lent a high degree of continuity and stability to the relationship in the early years of the transition from old to new. However, their partnership had not fully incorporated the more fundamental changes in the relationship which had been triggered and fuelled by new circumstances. These changes were primarily of a conceptual, intellectual order concerning the relative identities and interests of France and Germany as defined by the other. The founding pact of parity established between the two countries in the 1950s, which had successfully absorbed their various inequalities and differences (economic, diplomatic, demographic) over the years, had by the 1990s begun to unravel. At Nice, the formula was explicitly challenged by German leaders seeking and partially gaining additional power and influence through revised voting weights in the EU’s institutions. Although the ‘deal’ was maintained as such (although France lost nine of its EP seats as a result, along with Italy, Spain and the UK, while Germany gained another 12), the mere fact of the challenge mounted to it by Germany amounted to its demise, and became part of a context in which any French monopoly on the intellectual leadership of the EU was exposed, as were French expectations of German compromise over divergent interests. By way of illustration, German foreign minister Joschka Fischer had already challenged the French presidency before it began, in May 2000, by means of his ‘Quo vadis Europa?’ speech,1 in which he proposed a vision of the future architecture of an enlarged Europe. Subsequent keynote speeches by the French president and prime minister were inevitably seen as responses to the German initiative rather than as fresh ideas in their own right. Henceforth, French relations with its most favoured partner would become less predictable, and harder work. A ‘relaunch’ of the relationship duly began shortly after the Nice summit and resumed in the autumn of 2002, having been interrupted in-between by the final stages of the political cohabitation between President Chirac and Prime Minister Jospin, and by the

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

9

elections of the year 2002. An ongoing unknown in the relationship turns on the stances of France and Germany towards the United States; German foreign and European policy is still in the making, as it affects its transition from dependence on the USA to a more independent-thinking doctrine. Institutionally, the Franco-German tandem has certainly been strengthened: by new forms of cooperation at the level of the two countries’ European ministers; a new look for the biannual summits; a number of initiatives underway, particularly at the level of regional cooperation; in September 2003, a joint call from Chancellor Schröder and President Chirac to revive the EU’s economy through a programme of public works; also in 2003, the joint breaking of the Eurozone’s Growth and Stability Pact and, more positively, very productive relations in the Convention on the Future of Europe; and the symbolic refoundation of the relationship on its fortieth anniversary in January of that year. Transatlantic diplomacy and the dilemmas of globalisation Since 1995 France’s relations with the European Union have been played out and conditioned by President Chirac’s own style of presidential diplomacy. For many years it was more accurate to describe French relations with the European Union as a subset of French foreign policy per se than as a sui generis set of policy objectives. In other terms, the French rationale for tying itself to the 1950s experiment in institution-building was borrowed from the vocabulary of international power relations, la construction européenne providing first and foremost a buffer between France and international aggression played out on its territory. Over time, the consequences of the commitment to ‘ever closer union’ had the effect of creating its own domestic rationale. From de Gaulle to Chirac, via, crucially, François Mitterrand, ‘Europe’ has taken on its own momentum, in the guise of processes of ‘Europeanisation’, as an opportunity for domestic reform and a crutch for apparently ailing traditional ideologies (socialism, communism)—but against a backdrop where ‘Europe’ continues to have low salience as a voting issue, as Flood shows in detail in Chapter 3 of this volume. As Moreau-Defarges writes: France and the French know that their European choice is irreversible. Since the early 1950s, France has embarked on a process of Europeanization, thereby accepting the unacceptable: the primacy of EU law, the entanglement of European and French administrative structures, and a new and reduced France as part of some larger entity. (Moreau-Defarges, 2003, p. 129) Yet the initial, anti-international anarchy justification for building Europe still holds for French decision-makers today, usually caricatured in the expression l’Europepuissance—Europe as a power bloc. Charles de Gaulle laid out the explicit terms by which France would cooperate with its European neighbours as a means of imposing French designs on the cold war order, and imparting a sense of national identity to the French. Although to a considerable extent he ‘employed a language and operated in a conceptual world increasingly remote from us’ (Sa’adah, 2003, p. 100), his belief in the French capacity (and destiny) to shape its international environment is still present in contemporary political discourse. His successors’ compromises with French sovereignty

French relations with the European Union

10

and independence are a function of the changing world, and Gaullism lives on essentially as a national aspiration to influence the movement and direction of that change, as a capacity for change and renewal. But these diplomatic roots have grown into persistent tension between France and the United States, which reached a low point during the 2003 Iraq conflict, and which is exacerbated by the periodically strident rhetoric of President Chirac. His initial insistence, as French president, on the term ‘multipolarity’ as France’s favoured form of world organisation, was particularly irritating to his US counterparts. It is interesting to note that following the French-US conflict over the handling of Saddam Hussein’s regime, this very term was conspicuously dropped from French diplomatic discourse; de Villepin’s Dimbleby lecture of October 2003 was a good case in point. 2 Given this largely symbolic and residual quality of Gaullism in 2003, it is probably accurate to presume that ‘the French should not find it too difficult to moderate the Gaullism of their foreign policy’ (Grant, 2003, p. 101); and Grant backs this with the claim that within the French foreign-policy elite Chirac is being actively talked down from rhetoric and gestures that could be construed as hostility towards the USA. In any case, Chirac could well be ‘the least anti-American of all recent French presidents’ (Vaisse, 2003); or at least the most open-minded (or pragmatic) in this respect. Vaisse is probably right in assuming that Chirac’s ‘preference for a multipolar world does color French policy but only as a secondary and mostly rhetorical factor. It is not a primary source of French foreign policy, and Chirac’s talk about multipolarity is more about multilateralism—deciding together about issues that concern all of us—than about constraining American power.’ De Villepin’s ‘path towards a new world’ certainly revolved around this distinction. France’s transatlantic relations are therefore open to considerable interpretation, depending on which side of the Atlantic (or Channel) one is situated. Gaullism’s legacy of a desire for international clout explains why contemporary French policy towards the European Union still, on balance, prioritises Europe’s function as an international actor that can guarantee a modicum of French presence on the world stage; it is why France is never hesitant to speak on Europe’s behalf, even when to do so is divisive of European unity, such as over the war in Iraq in 2003. In the first decade of the twenty-first century the rules guaranteeing the security of the West were particularly unstable, and in this specific context French relations with the European Union—where Europe’s external security and world status were concerned— were particularly unpredictable, experimental and controversial. The situation of FrenchUS relations is complicated by the fact that to a variable extent, the two-way Franco-US relationship is a subset of the EU-US relationship; that is to say that the US, especially the G.W.Bush administration, responds to France as an independent foreign policy actor, but also to an important extent as an EU member state, an unruly one at that; as a highest common denominator, i.e. the member state whose support is the most difficult and therefore most valuable to secure. France compounds this ambiguity in relating to the US both as independent nation-state with a distinct world vision around which it tries to rally support and as the voice of a collective European diplomacy, the would-be leader of an interdependent common foreign, security and defence policy for Europe. It is hard for France to reconcile these two roles, especially in the post-cold war era, although 2003 saw some signs of change, to which we return in Chapter 2.

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

11

French relations with the European Union, then, can only be accurately read if placed in their broader international context and history, and this includes the vexed question of globalisation. France has managed to develop a reputation as a home to vocal (and sometimes violent) antiglobalisation protesters who effectively enjoy political backing in the form of strident criticism of untamed international capitalism. What gives this political discourse its edge in France is that it is married to a spirited and consistent defence of what we can loosely term French national culture and hence identity—as expressed in particular through cultural ‘products’ such as film and music, and through the French language at large. The true picture is of course more complex, as France is clearly as much a winner as loser of globalisation. Nevertheless, indiscriminate images and stereotypes of ‘globalisation’ have a habit of functioning in France as political fodder in tricky times (such as elections) and as grist to the mill of the vaguely or deeply malcontent, and the 2002 election results were a case in point.

Change and responses to change: overview of the book How do the chapters that follow contribute to our understanding of French responses to the changes surveyed above? Collectively, as outlined above, they offer a variety of conceptual and methodological approaches to the subject. Substantively, they each focus on an aspect of French relations with the European Union that is either prone to particularly strong stereotypical images (the Quai d’Orsay), where change has been particularly significant, but little known (the Conseil d’État), or where the links with French European policy are potentially underestimated, and overlooked (la vie associative). Chapter 2 (Costa and Daloz) takes an original perspective on some of the key individuals responsible for formulating and expressing French policy towards the EU in Paris and Brussels, and on the significance of their institutional culture. The French Foreign Ministry, the Quai d’Orsay, can be said to have cultivated an image over many years as the institutional mirror of French foreign policy itself. In the splendour of its physical environment and in its traditional status within the French core executive, the Quai symbolises France’s long past as a world class diplomatic player, and strongly suggests its historical appetite for national grandeur and sovereignty. In reality, the Quai d’Orsay has had to undergo considerable adjustment to the realities of French EU policymaking, in particular the requirement to share responsibility for European policy with other powerful ministries within the core executive, particularly the Finance Ministry, as well as with the prime minister and the president, the latter traditionally tucking ‘Europe’ into his reserved domain. Studies of European integration have increasingly sought to demonstrate how as institutional system and process the EU challenges traditional demarcation lines within national polities, and has created opportunities for multiple actors, within the state and outside it, to relate independently (or at least semi-independently) to Brussels; indeed, it could be said that the EU was set up specifically to do so as one means of reducing the likelihood of European nations going to war with each other. The Quai is certainly a key force behind French preferences for a common foreign and security policy which respects

French relations with the European Union

12

the sovereignty and power that still reside with nation-states; through the actions of the Quai, French diplomacy still wears an aura of stereotypical dimensions. This chapter explores these stereotypes from within French foreign policy-making circles (how French decision-makers see themselves), and from outside (how they are perceived by their counterparts in the other EU member states). The chapter is derived from a comparative study of the EU presidency function in which diplomats from all 15 member states were interviewed about the images they held of their counterparts and how, if at all, such images informed policy-making outcomes. The chapter thus emphasises the role of studying individuals’ perceptions alongside a more institutionalist perspective, an approach which bears fruit in the case of a policy area where matters of national and cultural identity are at stake. Through a case study of the French presidency of the EU of July-December 2000, the authors test their general propositions, arising from an analysis of perceptions held by and about the French policy-makers. They demonstrate that FPEU00 saw the French falling ‘victim’ to their stereotype (arrogant, short-termist, derisive of the EU institutions), and even taking refuge in it in the particularly tricky circumstances of cohabitation at home. The authors also detect increasing awareness of the pitfalls of such routine behaviours amongst these particular elites and growing attempts to develop new routines. They do not presage substantive change, nonetheless, as a result of a new governmental team following the 2002 elections, since French relations with the EU have traditionally been little affected by party political alternance—an interpretation to which we will return in our conclusions. In Chapter 3, Flood provides a comprehensive survey of the realities of Euroscepticism in France today. He contrasts the supply of and demand for ‘Eurosceptical arguments and policy positions’ in the French case, relating this equation to the ideological sources of French Euroscepticism in such a historically pro-EU country, and comparing these sentiments across the political spectrum. Flood’s quantitative analyses of opinion poll data allow him to assess the salience of the European question as a means of taking the true pulse of Eurosceptic tendencies amongst the voting public. He finds on the one hand that French Euroscepticism is an ‘elusive phenomenon’, a ‘scepticism of indifference or detachment more than out-right antagonism’; on the other hand, he concludes that the ‘revisionists’ (as opposed to ‘rejectionists’) ‘do have something to play for’ as a potential constraint on government policy. In the Mitterrand and Chirac presidencies French Eurosceptics have neither brought about any major realignment of the party system, nor prompted obvious change to government policy. Nevertheless, they have caused serious disruption to political life on various occasions, and the Maastricht ratification debate certainly opened an era of uncertainty for French politicians, who could no longer count on unconditional public support for its European policies. Flood, however, makes the important point that the narrow victory of the Maastricht ‘yes’ vote (51 per cent to 49 per cent) almost certainly overstated the extent of Eurosceptic opinion in France, since other domestic and international factors undoubtedly came into play in the vote. His analysis also clearly demonstrates that ‘Europe’ remains an issue of secondary significance as a voting issue, even in EP elections (as seen above) and despite obvious appearances; the failure of JeanPierre Chevènement’s national republican stance in the 2002 elections was a case in point.

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

13

This alternance forms part of the backdrop to Chapter 4, Startin’s analysis of the significance of the Gaullist legacy on Europe in the French right in 2003. The events and results of the 2002 elections suggested a French right less troubled than hitherto by the issue of Europe. Flood shows in Chapter 3, for example, how the issue of sovereignty, so divisive for the right in the 1990s, was muted on the right and, more blatantly but unsuccessfully, raised by a figure from the left (J.-P. Chevènement). However, Le Pen’s Eurosceptic agenda did put pressure on the mainstream right, and in particular the UMP, which was concerned by the effects it might have on rank-and-file opinion. Thus while the switch of power from left to right in 2002, particularly given the continuation of Chirac’s presi-dency into a second term, could not be expected inevitably to invite trouble over Europe, nor was the question of Europe entirely resolved. The European election results of June 2004, moreover, revealed a UMP and UDF with apparently very different visions of Europe’s future, in particular regarding federalism to which the UDF was well-disposed. By questioning French députés from each of the three mainstream parties of the French right, before the 2002 merger to form the UMP (RPR, UDF, DL), Startin is able to ascertain where differences persisted over Europe amongst elites on the French right (merger or no merger), what these consisted of, and how deep they ran. These individuals were questioned on a range of issues related to French membership of the EU, including the euro, enlargement, Maastricht, and sovereignty, and were also asked about the salience of Europe as a policy or electoral issue. Although the results of Startin’s analysis lead him to highlight the question of enlargement as a potentially divisive issue for the new family on the right—as it is for the French at large—his findings point more to reasons why Europe, and more particularly the Gaullist legacy regarding la construction européenne, is unlikely to spoil the party. Drawing on existing work in this area Startin reinforces the point that the RPR’s periodic difficulties regarding Europe arose from the clash between the realities of European integration and the rhetoric of Gaullism defined as a threefold equation of French independence, the authority of the state, and the unity of the French. De Gaulle himself was effectively hamstrung by the legacy he inherited from Jean Monnet, Robert Schuman et al., but nevertheless managed to reconcile reality and rhetoric in the world circumstances of his time and on the basis of his unique personal authority. His successors have been less successful in maintaining this balancing act, and the tension has periodically erupted within the RPR and between the RPR and its fellow travellers on the right. However, as Startin points out, the ‘conduct and behaviour of central leadership figures’ is a key variable in shaping the party system. When Chirac was virulently anti-supranationalism in 1978, the party followed and the gap with the UDF widened accordingly. Given that Chirac’s current standing in the UMP had, following the events in Iraq, begun to resemble the authority exerted by de Gaulle over the movement that he founded, and since Chirac has from the early 1990s undergone an apparent conversion to pro-Europeanism not dissimilar in style to François Mitterrand’s a decade earlier; and given that the UDF’s main characteristic, historically, has been proEuropean, and that the DL’s identity was predicated on the sort of liberalisation agenda that is typical of the EU since the 1980s, it is not unreasonable to expect ‘Europe’ to unite rather than divide the new French right. Mangenot’s Chapter 5 offers an additional perspective on the rearranging of power relations within the French establishment that has resulted from the Europeanisation of

French relations with the European Union

14

key domestic actors, here the Conseil d’État, France’s highest court of administrative law and the government’s principal legal advisory body (Stevens, 2003, p. 133). His in-depth analysis of the Conseil d’État’s belated adjustment to European integration in the late 1980s offers many insights into how institutions may change course and mission due to a mix of individual, generational, cultural and contextual factors. He also signals the limits of this adjustment when Paris is viewed not from Paris but from Brussels or Luxembourg. For many years after the signing of the Treaty of Rome in 1958, the Conseil d’État ignored the principle of the supremacy of EU law; accordingly, we may add, training for France’s most elite legal establishment failed to offer a grounding in European Community law, and France’s poor record in the transposition of European directives took root. From a large number of elite interviews Mangenot is able to infer why and how key individuals in the Conseil d’État were successful, in the late 1980s (symbolised by the 1989 Nicolo judgment), in changing their institution’s culture regarding Europe, and hence claim a renewed institutional influence within the French administrative system. Mangenot argues that while generational factors came into play—the replacement of old guards by young Turks more open-minded to Europe’s influence on French structures—more convincing as an argument is the role played by ambition, and careerist motivations, amongst old and new members alike of the Conseil. For certain key individuals, converting the Conseil’s role from passive bystander of European law to a more influential actor was a rational, self-interested response to the growing marginalisation of the Conseil within the French administrative system, and of French influence more broadly within the EU’s institutions. Once the Conseil had made this adjustment it indeed found itself imbued with a renewed sense of strategy; namely, the revitalisation of the legal order, as opposed to principles of managerialism, in the shaping of public policy at the national and EU levels. Armed with this new sense and purpose of what we could call actorness, the Conseil made a number of successful incursions, by means of well-placed individuals, into other bodies of the French state. Nevertheless, Mangenot concludes on the gaps in this important story of Europeanisation. These include, most significantly, the fact that France is still languishing at the bottom of the league amongst member states for the transposition of EC law into national law—this fact of French administrative-legal life reflecting both a shortfall of political will and the capacity to translate will into action. Mangenot notes, without comment, the good intentions of the Chirac-Raffarin government in this respect—it is too early to tell whether these will lead to change. Finally, there remains the fact that France remains unique amongst the member states—not only for its poor record of transposition but for the very existence of its weighty branch of administrative law within the French polity. Seen from Brussels and Luxembourg, Paris still appears as something of an anomaly in terms of its ability and will to adjust to Europe. The Conseil d’État may well have voluntarily set about change (at relatively little cost) to enhance its power in Paris, with some success, but this has not in itself reversed the decline of French influence at large in the EU. Milner demonstrates in Chapter 6 that parties of the left, foremost of which is the Socialist Party, have since François Mitterrand’s presidency (1981–95) become increasingly uneasy about European integration. The gauche plurielle government under Lionel Jospin’s premiership (1997–2002) struggled to contain many differences over Europe, only for these to re-emerge forcefully in the 2002 election campaigns, as we have

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

15

seen. Milner’s chapter examines the different ways in which French political leaders have related to Europe’s emerging social policy, and specifically to what has become known as the European social model. Without the French input over the years of European integration it is possible that the terminology and even ideology of a ‘model’ would not have been coined as such. It is a concept that allows successive French presidents and governments to claim that what is exceptional (i.e. exceptionally good) about French social relations, amongst which are the values that underpin them, has been exported to shape European-level action in this sphere. French claims to policy leadership and pacesetting in this policy area are a fair reflection of reality, but not all of reality. Indeed, Milner’s chapter demonstrates how the European social model has come to fulfil a function in French political discourse in relation to a number of different constituencies, two of which are labour and capital. ‘The same policy instrument can be used in many different ways to suit the audience and the purpose.’ Milner’s chapter provides us with an insight into the perspectives of these constituencies—the political left, labour, and capital—whose relations with European integration have increasingly set them at odds with one another in the domestic setting. Baisnée and Weisbein, in Chapters 7 and 8 respectively, turn their attention to actors who lie outside the establishment, in the narrow sense of the term, but still have something to play for in the national pecking order of institutional influence. Baisnée’s chapter examines the case of the French quality press, asking how its journalists have related to questions of European integration since the 1950s, and how these ‘pioneers’ in turn relate Europe to their readers and to their paymasters, the editors. On the basis of a large number of interviews with journalists (and as part of a broader comparative study of the presence and role of EU news in the French and British press), Baisnée draws a picture of a core group of ‘veteran’ reports whose word was for many years gospel on Brussels business in the French quality press. Yet these individuals found themselves confronted with institutional and cultural barriers to the transmission of ‘euronews’. They were seen to ‘incarnate’ Community life itself, and while this accorded them status in their profession it also had the effect of ghettoising their subject. Their specialisation did not facilitate or encourage a more democratic, populist transmission of the subject matter within a political elite that in any case demonstrated little interest in spreading the word on the subject; these were the years of European integration by stealth. Their specialist knowledge entailed them in routine struggles with their editors for space against subjects deemed more newsworthy. As long as ‘Europe’ was not deemed controversial or even debate-worthy by the political elites (to whom the French media in general are notoriously subservient in any case) then newspaper editors were not motivated to push the stories, such as they were. Baisnée shows that over time, as Brussels news has become more politicised and contentious in France, the press has altered its attitude. The decision taken by Le Monde to publish from January 2002 a page dedicated to European Union news is emblematic in this respect, a militant act from France’s leading daily known for its pro-Community line (and, we may add, its constant fretting over France’s place in Europe). It was also a decision with an economic rationale, given the socio-professional characteristics of Le Monde’s readership, as Baisnée shows. Yet Baisnée also demonstrates that there has been no domino effect, no explosion of ‘Europe’ into the headlines of France’s more populist (but not tabloid) national press, nor, significantly, in either the regional press or the

French relations with the European Union

16

broadcast media; Le Monde has not been a catalyst or trigger for pent-up restraint over European integration, and its decision is perfectly explicable in terms of its readership and circulation figures, and its economic calculations. Baisnée concludes his analysis by observing, first, that French politics continues effectively to collude in marginalising European matters, partly because the party system is hardly affected by the European issue. We will return in our conclusions to consider whether this marginalisation is a fact of life which appears at odds with the Chirac-Raffarin discourse on communicating Europe better and more loudly. Second, Baisnée concludes that French reporters of European news continue to be caught in a bind: to offer more detailed accounts of the daily life that they witness in Brussels is to be accused of having gone native and to have lost sight of the French context to Brussels affairs. Weisbein’s chapter explores an aspect of French daily life that is core to its fabric but relatively invisible to the outside, namely la vie associative. He shows how some French voluntary associations3 have tended to instrumentalise the European Union as a source and focus of expertise in raising funds and national profiles (in other words, power and influence in the domestic sphere are potentially to be had from a successful relation with the European Union). Others, more interestingly, have been instrumentalised in turn by French political decision-makers in their quest to popularise ‘Europe’ in France. The 1992 Maastricht Treaty on the European Union was significant from both of these perspectives, acting as an incentive for associations to get involved in EU matters (the agreement having broadened the scope of European integration) and in convincing political leaders that they needed the help of certain of these groups in softening up French public opinion (especially in the mid-1990s, once the lessons of the near-miss at the 1992 ratification referendum had been digested). Those politicians who around the time of the Maastricht referendum campaign created loi 1901 clubs and groups to spread their word were essentially interested in a one-way traffic—using the associations to communicate their political message—and far less in drawing on the organisations to inform or define policy objectives other than superficially; Weisbein demonstrates this point with a discussion of salient failures of associative campaigns. The question of federalism is particularly instructive in this context, since Weisbein shows how pro-federal voices in the voluntary movements had limited but tangible influence on French political discourse in the 1990s post-Maastricht years, and restrained themselves to a softly-softly euphemistic handling of the federal hot potato as a way of avoiding scuppering their chances of political influence. At times of critical political importance, such as the French EU presidency of 2000 or the 2002 presidential elections in France, the federalist message was indeed turned down or, more accurately, tuned out of the dominant political discourse (certainly of President Chirac and Prime Minister Jospin); the nominally profederal associations in France have for the time being at least accepted this ceiling on their more radical ideological ambitions. In so far as France’s leaders tolerate federalism, it is contained in the official ‘vision’ of a European Federation of Nation-States, with the emphasis on ‘nation-state’. Ultimately the French political scene has demonstrated remarkable levels of resistance to the potential input of associations, at least in the domain of European policy-making; Weisbein refers to the surdetermination du champ politique national. Any gains in influence by the associative world has come from being appropriated by other bodies rather than through successful strategies of political mobilisation. Ultimately, the vie

Perspectives on French relations with the European union

17

associative française is driven more by material, functional reasoning than by ideological ideas of transnational influence. Nevertheless, it is not to be discounted, thanks to its role as a channel of influence used by politicians at critical times in the debate on France and the EU.

Conclusions As outlined, the chapters each set out to identify change and responses to change regarding France’s relations with the European Union. By this method we hope to provide a more transparent picture of the trends shaping some of the most significant French relations with the EU, their direction, significance, dynamics and likely lifespan. Taken as a whole, the findings should uncover factors which can be expected to inform future decision and policy-making regarding France in the EU; alternatively, findings may point to blindspots and blinkers in the French political establishment in this respect. Collectively, the chapters should also identify further areas requiring analysis; and the conclusions to the volume (Chapter 9) will elaborate upon these. Finally, this collection is intended to offer a case-study of European integration in motion, and in this way constitutes a contribution to thinking about the future of Europe.

Notes 1 Entitled ‘From Confederacy to Federation: Thoughts on the Finality of European Integration’. See for the official version. 2 . 3 Howarth and Varouxakis (2003, p. 89) define the term ‘association’ as referring to ‘groups formed for the purposes of collective endeavour as defined by the 1901 law that established free association in France to be registered with the public authorities’. Weisbein himself discusses the difficulties of defining the precise meaning of la vie associative in the French context.

2 How French policy-makers see themselves Olivier Costa and Jean-Pascal Daloz

Introduction Despite the unmistakable effects of socialisation, mutual learning and Europeanisation on the EU’s high-ranking political actors, certain behaviours and stereotypes are slow to die out. Indeed, more than 40 years after the beginnings of European integration, the EU’s players continue to refer to these stereotypes in order to decode the behaviour of their opposite numbers. As simplified and not necessarily unfounded simplifications of complex realities, these stereotypes confer feelings of familiarity, allowing all actors to get their bearings in their shared surroundings.1 French policy-makers are associated with a particularly strong and pervasive stereotype: that they are arrogant and more often than not have a superiority complex. This leads to a certain degree of confidence which can enable them to take European integration up to another level. This stereo-type is self-perpetuating, and it seems reasonable to ask, therefore, whether the many phenomena arising from the evolution of the EU’s political system (such as the Europeanisation of national administrative and political systems; the relative weakening of the Commission—an administration originally designed from the French model; the shift in the Community’s administrative culture towards a more Anglo-Saxon model, and the growing influence of new norms of ‘good governance’) have weakened the stereotype or whether, in fact, it has stiffened in the face of such challenges. In order to compare these stereotypes against a reality that can be objectively observed, and to analyse their impact on the behaviour of French policy-makers, the exercise of the EU presidency function is in our view the best case-study.2 We will see that it is in this setting that national ‘styles’ most easily express themselves, particularly given the weak institutionalisation of the role of the presidency. The country that exercises the presidency is also particularly exposed to the judgement of its partners, the presidency of the EU effectively being an autonomous actor exercising its role under the critical gaze of 25 peers. Studying the presidency function also allows us to compare what actors say with what they do, and with the reputation that precedes them. A final point here is that given the relatively unscripted nature of the presidency, and the growing length of time separating any one country’s exercising of the function, evolution and change in a member state’s modus operandi are particularly obvious. In the first part of this chapter we will review the specific characteristics of the presidency function, and summarise the methodology that we have used for studying perceptions and stereotypes. In the second section we will analyse the way in which the actors of the French presidency of the second semester of 2000 perceived their opposite

How French policy-makers see themselves

19

numbers, and how they thought they themselves were perceived by those peers. We will then compare these results against the realities of the French players, and attempt to explain why, despite an express desire to modify stereotypical behaviours, the French presidency was judged to be a disappointing caricature of itself.

Subject and method The presidency of the European Union Exercising the EU presidency is a difficult art. Before beginning a period of presidency, the heads of state or government usually trumpet ambitious programmes. In the course of their mandate they invariably end up downgrading their objectives and amending, if not quietly sidelining, their programme as they become aware of the obstacles and limitations that govern their action and as their attention is distracted by current affairs. At the end of the European Council which concludes each semester’s presidency, those involved regularly drop any reference to their initial programme, preferring instead to draw up an ‘objective’ assessment of results, emphasising as necessary the constraints that arose from the unpredictability of developments. Presidency-watchers, however, are not so easily sidetracked, and it is rare for the action of the outgoing team to be praised. The case of the French presidency of the second semester of 2000 is a good example. It had been launched with ambitious objectives, for treaty reform as well as for further integration in certain policy sectors. More to the point, in the German Bundestag, in May 2000, President Jacques Chirac had raised the possibility that France would promote the adoption of a European constitution before the end of the year. French policy-makers had also undertaken to improve their image, and in particular to draw a veil over the unfortunate precedent of the 1995 French presidency, at the end of which President Chirac had suffered the disapproval of France’s partners, and had been criticised in the strongest terms by the European Parliament for his decision to restart French nuclear testing. Analysing stereotypes: methodological considerations Our goal in this chapter is to show how French policy-makers approached this presidency period. The starting hypothesis is that the running of the presidency by each member state is conditioned by three types of factor: ‘sociological’ (administrative and political cultures, influence in the EU’s institutions, attitudes towards European integration), ‘strategic’ (policy preferences), and ‘cognitive’. All presidencies are underpinned by the way in which relations with others are conducted, and by a certain self-image; the very ambitious programme of the French presidency cannot be explained solely by institutional factors or a ‘rational choice’ type of approach. In order to understand it fully we must take into account, first, the way in which policy-makers perceive themselves and deem themselves perceived by others; second, their desire to influence this image and, finally, the constraints that the image generates on relations between the presidencyholders and their EU partners. If it is the case that the work of the presidency is charted

French relations with the European Union

20

by the reactions of other member states, it is also true that it is conditioned by expectations of these reactions, and by the resulting self-censure that this produces. Thus we decided in this case to work not on the stereotypes that are associated by others with French policy-makers (even though we did gather some information of this sort in the course of our interviews with European administrators, policy-makers and foreign journalists). Instead, we have focused on self-perceptions: what the French see when they look in the mirror. This research strategy seemed to us to be most appropriate in order to tackle the question of change and resistance to change amongst those French policy-makers responsible for European matters. We prioritised meetings with the advisers who were effectively in charge of the 2000 EU presidency. These men and women may have been in the background, but were the only ones to have a real understanding of the dossiers and to have followed European affairs on a permanent basis. With the benefit of hindsight and the experience that they possess, they bring a very well-informed view of the manner in which France ran its EU presidency, and how it was perceived—especially by MEPs. We also met members of the French Permanent Representation to the EU, who have a partly ‘external’ view (from ‘Brussels’) of the presidency. The permanent character of their involvement in European affairs allows them to reason in comparative terms and to provide us with ‘informed stereotypes’ regarding their EU counterparts. Indeed, an analysis of the self-perception of French policy-makers only becomes meaningful when viewed from a comparative perspective, and with reference to the images that these actors have of their peers. In particular, recognising what appears to create problems with their partners has allowed us to capture, by mirror image, the ideal picture of the presidency from a French point of view. To analyse the stereotypes associated with the national policy-makers of the other 14 member states, as well as the salient points of the self-perceptions of the French policymakers, we have focused here on related answers to two questions. The first was ‘How would you qualify the manner in which policy-makers from the other member states exercise the presidency function?’ The second, ‘In your view, what characterises the perceptions of the French presidency held by policy-makers in the other member states?’ In order to go beyond a simple collection of stereotypes, and to try to fathom their origins, we also questioned our interviewees about the pertinence of a series of nationstate-related cleavages: North/South; Latin/Anglo-Saxon; small/large; old/new; proEuropean/ Eurosceptical; strong/weak state; strong/weak government; centralised/ federal state.

French actors’ perceptions of their opposite numbers in the EU presidency function In order to make sense of the self-perceptions of French policy-makers we first needed to summarise their perception of their opposite numbers. Here we will list, state by state and in French alphabetical order, the responses that we got from the main actors of the French presidency regarding presidency ‘styles’, and the qualities and faults of the political and administrative personnel of the other 14 member states, as they saw them. Regarding Germany (first semester, 19993) our interviewees made four main remarks. First, German policy-makers are deemed to be honest and to honour their word. A second

How French policy-makers see themselves

21

perceived characteristic is the attention that they give the ‘small’ countries, and in this regard the contrast with France is particularly pronounced. Third, behind an apparently flawless organisational capacity, the Germans suffer from serious problems of coordination which handicap their presidency management. Indeed, Germany has permanently to handle internal conflicts and negotiations that arise from its federal structure, and often takes decisions at the last minute. Fourth, our interviewees consider that the attitude of German policy-makers has evolved, in that they are becoming more and more inflexible the more aware they become of their power. Uncertainty permeated our interviewees’ responses in this regard, as they emphasised the contrast between the attitude of Germany’s top Eurocrats, who demonstrate a certain superiority complex and who stick to their guns, and the attitude of Germany’s political leaders who prefer to keep a low profile and who seek to avoid any negative reaction from their partners or from the candidate countries. During the last German presidency (1999), this desire to please at any cost came across, according to our interviewees, as a sort of clientelism (each member state gaining satisfaction on the points that mattered most to them), cleverly dressed up as a willingness to make sacrifices. The image of Austria (second semester, 1998) turns on two main points: a lack of organisation and excessive caution. On the first point, our interviewees were highly critical (‘we’ve never seen such a lack of organisation’) and considered that Austria tries to do the right thing but does not give itself the means to do so. The Austrian presidency was judged to be disjointed and out of line with the expectations of the EU’s institutions and member states. This situation was linked to Austria’s tradition of neutrality, and to the weight of economic actors in the national system, which robs the political decisionmakers of the autonomy that they need. The wariness of Austrian politicians is put down to their fear of enlargement and their anxieties regarding questions such as nuclear energy and immigration. Belgium (second semester, 1993) enjoys a good image where its EU presidency function is concerned. Our interviewees underlined the surprising ability of the Belgian government, supposedly weak, to carry out this function. This apparent contradiction is perhaps best explained by the crucial role that European integration plays for Belgium’s domestic institutional balance. The adoption of a federal structure in Belgium has rendered its politics more complex and less readable, but its individual policy-makers prove to be very efficient. In particular, Belgian policy-makers are noted for their sense of compromise and a welcome flexibility in negotiations. According to our interviewees, Denmark (first semester, 1993) is afflicted by a sort of schizophrenia. Danish leaders are generally deemed to be Eurosceptic, since they are radically opposed to certain EU policies (social policy, single currency) where their priority is to negotiate as many opt-outs as possible. They are also obsessed by relations with the Danish Parliament in EU affairs, which implies a very narrow margin of manoeuvre in negotiations. On the other hand, they can be very pro-integration in other domains, such as the environment. Overall, the organisation of the Danish presidency is rated very highly, and Danish politicians are reputed to be efficient, realistic and precise; their Eurocrats, moreover, are deemed brilliant, ‘à la française’, in fact. Spanish policy-makers (second semester, 1995) are characterised by their concern to be seen as a ‘big’ player, by their inflexibility when it comes to the national interest (with a certain tendency towards paranoia), and by a sort of pride which caps their sense of

French relations with the European Union

22

humour. On the other hand, they are considered to be clear about their demands, and to honour their word. When it comes to the organisation of Spanish presidencies, it is better than the country’s southern European character would suggest. Finnish policy-makers (second semester, 1999) come out very well. Their late arrival in the EU, far from being a handicap in their negotiations and presidency function, seems to have driven them to do better than the older EU member states. They are deemed to be impartial, honest, to show willing, and to have a healthy respect for due process and convention. During their presidency they demonstrated a high degree of professionalism, were extremely well-prepared (they began consultations years in advance, drafted their documents with considerable precision), and modest. Some of our interviewees, however, emphasised the moralising nature of the Finns, who criticised their opposite numbers, and particularly the French, for not making sacrifices on the same scale as their own; others noted their incapacity to comprehend certain questions (such as the Cyprus question). Nevertheless, their willingness to learn was never placed in doubt by our interviewees. Greece (first semester, 1994) is considered as nothing short of a miracle. For a long time Greek decision-makers had a terrible reputation as the lame duck of the EU—only they organised a summit that failed to reach any conclusions. Greece, however, is the member state that has come furthest, and its leaders and officials have gone to considerable lengths to improve their credibility. Despite real progress, however, it is still difficult to determine the Greek position on any given question because of a lack of coordination and continuity. On a personal basis, the Greeks involved in the presidency are seen as friendly. A final point is that our interviewees ranked Greece—alongside other ‘small’ countries—as holding single-issue presidencies to the point of obsession: much energy, for example, goes on the Turkish and Cypriot questions. This last point is also true of Ireland (second semester, 1996) which, generally speaking, stubbornly defends two or three priorities. The Irish presidency is considered to be serious-minded, even obstinate, and all the better organised for it because of the high stakes placed in the results of the presidency. Irish decision-makers are characterised by a tendency to go it alone, and by their modesty. Ireland, finally, enjoys an absence of tension with its partner member states. Italy (first semester, 1996) projects an image of friendly leaders, who are quick-witted and avoid conflict—thus avoiding enemies—and who have an above-average sense of the ‘Community’ spirit. On the other hand, they are seen as badly organised. Italian presidencies are characterised by a degree of improvisation and an inability to turn ambitious rhetoric into concrete results. Despite their genuine involvement and investment in the presidency, the lack of preparation, of coherence and of clear objectives means that their results are ‘never great’ (jamais formidable). Luxembourg (second semester, 1997) has an excellent image which our interviewees rationalised, as with Belgium, in terms of their strategic interest in European integration. Its leaders are deemed to be serious-minded, efficient, pragmatic and positive, motivated by a sense of responsibility towards European integration. They are seen as playing a key role between France and Germany, coming across as generally pro-French, but often disappointed by the lack of respect accorded them by the French. Their presidencies are judged positively, and as very constructive. Because of their relative lack of administrative resources, Luxembourg turns to the European Commission more than most, leading some critics to dub their turn in the chair as ‘Commission-presidencies’.

How French policy-makers see themselves

23

Luxembourg is not seen as defending any particular national interest other than in the question of taxation. The Netherlands (first semester, 1997) is configured similarly to their two Benelux neighbours when it comes to European integration. They devote considerable attention to the EU, and are serious-minded and reliable. However, the results of their presidencies rarely live up to expectations: despite an apparently well-functioning administration they are often out of kilter with European integration. Our interviewees all underlined the ‘Dutch complex’, whereby Dutch decision-makers see their country as one of the ‘big’ member states (one of the original Six; a former global power). As a result they would like to interact on equal terms with the other ‘big’ countries, are frustrated that this is not the case, and also that the ‘Dutch model’ was overlooked when building the Europe of Six. Portugal (first semester, 2000), according to our interviewees, is also stricken by schizophrenia: it demands the advantages that fall to a late-developing country, while simultaneously affirming its modernity. The attitude of the Portuguese is characterised by their desire to differentiate themselves from the Spanish, as opposed to being lumped together as Iberians. They are as efficient as their Spanish counterparts, but often less rigid and more innovative. For example, it was the Portuguese presidency that successfully launched the Open Method of Coordination (OMC) for social and education policy. The United Kingdom (first semester, 1998) gets a mixed press. They are seen as the most competent of the 15—their mastery of their dossiers is unrivalled, as is their flexibility—but they are considered as Eurosceptic. This image has changed somewhat since Blair’s arrival in 1997; he is seen as the most ‘European’ prime minister that Britain has ever had, but even then the British are seen as devoid of any European vision. They are deemed to be excellent negotiators, gifted at working in teams, and highly efficient in defending specific interests. Our interviewees raised doubts, however, regarding the extent to which the British really keep their word. Swedish policy-makers (first semester, 2001) are reputed for their seriousness and their handling of dossiers and procedures, but are criticised for the excessive significance that they attach to form over content, and for their inability to make their minds up. They are also blamed, as are the Danish, for being obsessive about satisfying their parliament and public opinion, and this is seen as robbing them of the possibility of effective leadership. Our interviewees singled out their tendency to see the EU as an opportunity to project their own political and social model, and their failure to understand why others disagree—although it is admitted that this could be linked to their newness in the EU. From this overview we can deduce the style of leadership preferred by the French. They dislike presidencies marked by ambivalence, or an overzealous concern to keep the peace or find a consensus, and they rate highly ambitious, determined and unambiguous presidencies that do not seek consensus over and above all else.

French relations with the European Union

24

Images and stereotypes of the French, as seen by the French: how French decision-makers perceive themselves Cleavages In order to define what is unique about themselves and their perception of their opposite numbers, the French decision-makers that we interviewed sometimes spontaneously referred to a number of cleavages. In order to map their perceptions in this respect we systematically questioned them about all the possible differences that come into play between Europeans. The cleavage that they evoked the most often was that between ‘small’ and ‘large’ member states, even though a number of those we spoke to were at pains to downplay this cleavage, unlike the media. According to our interviewees, the difference between ‘small’ and ‘large’ states is periodically visible on particular questions, and has a marked effect on the presidency function. Small countries have fewer human resources, which can force them to concentrate on a specific number of dossiers and to moderate their ambitions; moreover, they care more about the comments that are made about their actions. For large states, the presidency experience is, on the contrary, nothing special— almost banal. The Finns and the Swedes were very anxious before their presidency, and this led them to give special attention to matters of organisation, and to publicise limited objectives only; unlike France, which organises itself very late in the day and does not hold back on its ambitions. This cleavage also has an effect on relations between member states and the EU’s institutions: whereas the ‘big’ states generally try to limit the influence of the Commission and the General Secretariat of the Council, these bodies provide essential guarantees and support to the smaller states—who also are wary of the European Parliament, where their representatives are in a very small minority. The cleavage between founder and new member states was also mentioned very often, but in a particular way, with ‘new’ meaning only those member states that joined in the ‘Nordic’ enlargement of 1995 (Austria, Finland and Sweden). Our interviewees were of the opinion that these most recent entrants had a very specific approach to the presidency; namely, their close attention to their image and to their public opinions, which was seen as distinctly limiting their capacity to act. This is the reason why French policy-makers consider the older member states as freer to propose, and less fearful of displeasing either their EU partners or their domestic opinion, and that these countries are generally the driving force behind the treaties and the main advances of European integration. French decision-makers deem the North-South cleavage to be a key factor in certain questions, such as economic and social cohesion and structural funds, even if these national positions are determined less by geography than by financial interests. Thus, Italy and Ireland are progressively becoming net contributors and because of this have altered their positions. The cleavage then is more a question of net contributors vs. net recipients than between North and South per se, and the current enlargement will only confirm this development, driving this cleavage along the East-West fault-line. The cleavage between Latin and Anglo-Saxon traditions is a delicate one, since it is a question of political and legal cultures, and is considered to be key because of its impact

How French policy-makers see themselves

25

on how policy-makers conceive of the role of the state, other public authorities, the public sector and, more broadly, of a whole set of legal concepts. The cleavage between Eurosceptics and Europhiles was considered to determine the margin of negotiating manoeuvre enjoyed by a presidency, and the extent to which its programme would be ambitious. The cleavage based on relations with the United States seems key to understanding the position of France in the EU, and the attitude of certain member states towards France in this respect. French policy-makers see themselves as different by virtue of their desire to compare themselves with the United States, and to make the EU into a competing power that is not beholden to the US. This implies a particular notion of EMU, the Community’s trade policy, the CFSP or the role of NATO, and it displeases several member states. This cleavage was latent for many years, but was considerably dramatised and mediatised following the terrorist attacks on the USA of 11 September 2001, and in particular during the second Gulf war. For the French, the liberal/anti-liberal cleavage is important to understand the way in which member states approach the single market, EMU and EU social policy, and especially how they think about the EU’s future—its finalités. The significance of the strong/weak or unitary/federal state cleavage (the two are not quite the same) was also noted by our French interviewees. In their view, it closely determines the procedural style of the presidency (more or less state-led, top-down), as well as their relations with the EU’s institutional system. It is clear that Belgian or German policy-makers adapt better than their French counterparts to the EU’s consensus politics and to the rigours of subsidiarity; on the other hand, the Belgian or German room for manoeuvre in the negotiations and the clarity of their positions are affected by the need to take into account the positions of their constituent parts. These different cleavages, which partially overlap and which are not exhaustive, were systematically raised by the players of the French presidency when they attempted to define what was specific to their own action. In their words, France defines itself as a large country, a founding member state, a net contributor, of Latin political and legal culture, a ‘cautious Europhile’, protective of its independence with regard to the USA, and a strong, rather anti-liberal state. In their view these characteristics lead to a French presidency ‘style’ characterised by lofty ambitions, including to make Europe a leading political power, and by a certain degree of detachment regarding the practical aspects of the presidency, which have become virtually routine; by an expectation of a leadership role, and a negotiating technique which pays scant attention to the search for a broad consensus via the consultation of ‘small’ states or the taking into account of the Commission and Parliament. French self-perceptions When French political decision-makers and administrators are questioned at greater length about the image that they think they have with their counterparts in the other EU member states their remarks converge on three points: arrogance, organisational amateurism and visionary qualities.

French relations with the European Union

26

‘Arrogance’ and ‘autism’ The main players of the French presidency all acknowledge that they are regularly considered arrogant, pretentious, condescending, even ‘autistic’ in their handling of the presidency chair. They put their arrogance down to the following: their paternalism, a turn of mind à la française which is little understood and even less valued, a very limited willingness to listen, and a proactivism that can be excessive. France’s behaviour finds favour in some regards, but is the subject of recurrent criticism on at least five points, in their view. First is their tendency to neglect certain of the EU’s players. It is frequently held against France that it has no time for the European Parliament and that it persists in treating it as a purely consultative body. The French presidency is noticeable for its lack of consultation with the Commission or Secretariat General of the Council, and by its desire to centralise its decisions in Paris. It is also criticised for having little time for the ‘small’ and ‘medium’ member states, and to limit its contacts to the ‘big’ countries, preferably Germany, for historical reasons. The representatives of the member states that are excluded from this informal dialogue react very badly to this situation, which predisposes them to a blanket negativity towards French proposals. Second, France is accused of having no compunction in placing other national delegations in awkward positions. Unlike other countries such as Belgium or Finland, which systematically seek consensus by consulting their partners and the EU institutions at length before making the slightest proposal, France tends to corner its partners by announcing a proposal when it is in its advanced stages—having already consulted on a small scale, and for many years exclusively with Germany. French decisionmakers seem to consider that debate should start from the basis of their own proposals. This approach entails a degree of inflexibility in negotiations, during which tactics such as exerting pressure on partners and calling their bluffs are not ruled out. Third, French presidencies are criticised for an inability to prioritise questions beforehand, and for a tendency to resort to last-minute horsetrading. Unlike most member states, which focus their presidency on a few questions either to defend certain key national interests or out of a sense of modesty, France attempts to act on all fronts, and counts on its experience as founding member state, its experts, and its Brussels and diplomatic networks to do so. Fourth, French leaders are suspected of wishing to forge a Europe in the image of France. This leads to a certain ‘imperialism’ in their proposals and to a desire to impose specifically French positions as self-explanatory, whether it is a question of antiglobalisation, the promotion of European languages, the ‘exception culturelle’ or the defence of the public sector (‘les services publics’). Finally, France is reputed to suffer from a difficulty in speaking for Europe as it really is. On this point, our interviewees considered it harder for the representatives of a ‘large’ country, proud of its history and its unique characteristics, to believe that Europe brings additional power and, thus, to express themselves on behalf of Europe. In comparison, for the Benelux countries, for example, there is no alternative to Europe, and it comes naturally to them to think and speak as and for Europeans.

How French policy-makers see themselves

27

Organisational shortcomings The ways in which France relates to these various cleavages, together with its institutional characteristics, mean that its European presidencies are organised along particular lines. Unlike Nordic countries in particular, France dedicates fewer human resources to the presidency Secretariat-General, and allocates fewer staff from the its various ministries. To exercise the presidency, France relies on its very numerous administrative personnel who are instructed to prioritise European questions within their regular functions. Some administrators who are familiar with European questions are given this prioritisation as a particular task. This approach is facilitated by the relative stability of the administrative personnel, especially amongst the diplomats who are specialists in European integration. In the ministries themselves, a more rapid turnover does not allow for the same continuity, but the actors involved nevertheless have a good experience of Europe. The concepts of experience and routine recur frequently in the terms in which French policy-makers describe their action. They consider that the experience gained during previous presidencies makes for a serene and unpanicked presidency preparation. According to them there is a world of difference between their situation and that of the new member states, who have to undergo a form of ‘initiation’ in their first ever presidency tour. Our interviewees do, however, acknowledge that the lack of a specific and dedicated approach to the logistics of the EU presidency, especially in Brussels itself, can and does create difficulties. Foreign policy-makers and European bureaucrats frequently criticise the negative effects of this routine-style approach to the presidency on the part of the French, and this unique form of French snobbishness according to which logistical and organisational questions (apart from the summits themselves) are of entirely secondary importance. Mistakes do happen, and they are received all the more negatively given the over-ambitious objectives generally set by French presidencies. The content of the presidency programme does not escape criticism either: for being announced very late in the day, or for containing multiple ‘priorities’. Finally, French decision-makers themselves are not considered as reliable. It is not that they are deemed to set out deliberately to break their promises, but that they make too many promises which they then forget. Visionary France? Even if France’s attitude is not always very well-received, French decision-makers are of the view that their partners do acknowledge the essential role that France has played in founding the European Union and in each of its major developments. Robert Schuman, Jean Monnet, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, François Mitterrand and Jacques Delors are amongst the ‘great Europeans’ who, according to the history books, have played a key role in the European integration process. Moreover, the image of the Franco-German ‘engine’, despite its failures, remains strong. According to our interviewees the French have made significant contributions to the building of Europe through their dynamism, their ability to bring about reform, and their promoting of long-term visions of European integration and its goals; they admit, however, that the French do not always come across like this since they are capable of arrogance and condescension towards the ‘small’ states,

French relations with the European Union

28

and tend to defend an idea of Europe that sometimes seems simply too ‘French’. Some interviewees thus considered that France has always played a visionary role in the European debate, in contrast with those member states who support proposals and projects that are more routine, or who prefer to stick with the status quo. This French ability to define the common interest and to move things along, at the risk of unpopularity, is seen by our interviewees as compensation for any arrogance or ‘autism’ that French decision-makers may display. In the particular case of the presidency, our speakers underlined France’s ability to achieve progress on given dossiers; according to them, this is a measure of a ‘good presidency’, in contrast to presidencies which seek above all not to make waves, and to preserve consensus at all costs. Change and continuity in the French ‘style’: the case of the 2000 French EU presidency As previously indicated, the 2000 French EU presidency would see a certain change in the attitude and methods of French actors. A host of explanatory factors can be suggested. First, Jacques Chirac had made it known that he wished to draw a line under the previous French presidency in 1995 which was marred by incidents related to Chirac’s decision of that year to resume nuclear testing. Second is the fact that the example given by other member states, notably the new entrants such as Finland, had the effect of persuading the French of some of the virtues of a consensual approach to the presidency function. The particular context—marked by the waning of the Franco-German relationship, the rise of Euroscepticism, and growing doubts in several countries regarding enlargement—was the third factor which encouraged a more open and transparent presidency style. Finally, there was also a strategic desire for change. At stake for the French presidency, which had made the signing of a new treaty its top priority, was the creation of a consensus on this very point. As Moravcsik and Nicolaïdis (1998) have shown, the Amsterdam Treaty had marked a turning point in European integration in inaugurating a series of negotiations on the EU’s institutions, in the absence of any substantive progress in integration itself. The 2000 IGC took place in this context, a ‘new age’ of intergovernmental negotiations where, by the very nature of what was at stake, the likelihood of a global bargain satisfactory to all was very limited indeed. Negotiations were particularly difficult since, for the first time, it was not a question of creating new policies likely to satisfy certain expectations, nor even of the redistribution of powers between the institutions, or the improvement of procedure, but a question of the weighting of national power within the Union through the redefinition of the number of commissioners, the formulae for qualified majority voting in the Council, and the size of the national delegations to the European Parliament. This is not the place to enter into a detailed account of the various French declarations regarding their desire to hallmark this presidency as one of dialogue and listening, or of the internal documents advising administrators to work together with the European Parliament, to avoid strong arm tactics, and to ensure that all parties were consulted, etc.4 Nor is it possible, within the confines of this chapter, to establish a detailed chronology of the French presidency.5 We will limit ourselves to noting that this is patently clear, from our interviews with foreign observers of the French presidency and with key French actors from the presidency itself, that the usual criticisms of France that we have detailed

How French policy-makers see themselves

29

above have far from disappeared. In fact, they returned with an unprecedented vengeance at the summit of Nice at the end of the French 2000 presidency. To analyse them we will return to our three constituent elements of the French stereotype: arrogance and ‘autism’, organisational failures, and the visionary pretensions of France. ‘Arrogance’ and ‘autism’ It cannot be overlooked that the initially good resolutions of the French presidency actors had, ultimately, no effect on their reputation for arrogance. From the moment that they presented their presidency programme, the French made enemies due to their expectation that progress would be made on all fronts and that they would obtain, at whatever cost, a treaty before the end of the presidency mandate. In the running of the presidency itself, French actors made endless faux pas, neglecting to consult their partners and patronising the small states. All of these characteristics were amply illustrated by the ‘confessional’ procedure6 used at the Nice summit. Moreover, the attitude of the French presidency was far from welcome at the Commission, whose members complained that they had not been sufficiently involved in the IGC. More broadly, because of cohabitation and the particularities of France’s administrative system, the presidency management was very ‘Parisian’, to the dismay of the Brussels institutions. Questions were directly handled by Chirac’s advisers at the Elysée, whenever it was a question of the French president’s ‘reserved domain’, and by the SGCI for matters falling to the government.7 The French Permanent Representation in Brussels and the presidency Secretariat were thus reduced to the status of mere executive agents. This situation was unhelpful in fostering dialogue with the representations of the other member states and the EU’s institutions. The French ‘style’ which generates so much resentment found a way of fully expressing itself via the main presidency actors, namely Lionel Jospin (prime minister), Hubert Védrine (foreign minister), Laurent Fabius (finance minister), and Pierre Moscovici (European affairs minister). They are all énarques, and intellectuals to boot, who openly court paradox, tend to eschew the language of diplomacy, and deploy a discourse which often irritates others or comes across as contemptuous. The French presidency was also criticised for its inflexibility and its tendency to use threats, and the tactic of the fait accompli. Thus, throughout the entire IGC, France let it be known that the treaty would not be signed if it was ‘unsatisfactory’. This earned the presidency the accusation of bad faith, notably in Nice on the subject of treaty reform, where its positions were held to be paradoxical and indefensible. The French wanted more account taken of demographic size when considering the re-weighting of votes in the Council; yet they refused the principle of ‘unhitching’ the number of French votes from those of Germany. The small member states, and notably Belgium, considered this behaviour to be cynical in the extreme, in that the presidency was prepared to point the finger at the Belgians in this regard without making the slightest concession on the French side. The attitude of the French presidency at Nice weighed heavily on perceptions of the results of the presidency overall, meaning that advances in social and employment policy, for example, or the initiatives taken to improve the feeling of ‘proximity’ of the EU’s citizens with EU policies, tended to be overlooked. As for Chirac’s personal efforts to strengthen European defence, which surprisingly found their

French relations with the European Union

30

way into the Treaty of Nice, these were interpreted as the illustration par excellence of the French desire to create Europe in France’s image. Finally, and above all, it was the relative lack of interest displayed in the presidency itself by France’s political leaders that was the most heavily stigmatised as the sign of French arrogance and complacency. Members of the French permanent representation in Brussels in particular felt that the EU presidency had been ‘la vingt-sixième priorité’8 of France’s two political leaders, Jacques Chirac and Lionel Jospin, who in fact had only one wish: that the presidency would be over and done with. Since the presidency was not and could not be a political battleground between the two men, the EU presidency simply did not retain their significant attention. This situation was interpreted as a sign of condescension, especially by the leaders of the ‘small’ states for whom the presidency exercise is an event of the utmost importance. Organisational shortcomings The French political and administrative actors who were directly involved in the EU presidency, along with the bureaucrats in the Permanent Representation, are considered as competent by most of their opposite numbers. The SGCI is perceived as a precious asset in the definition of the political priorities of the presidency and of clear and coherent national positions. However, once again France gave an ambiguous image of a competent presidency which was nevertheless inefficient on occasions because of its disdain for practicalities or for the demands of dialogue. As usual, the preparation of the presidency started late and the resources devolved to the presidency were limited. Less than ten people were allocated to the presidency Secretariat-General, and the bulk of the tasks were carried out by the SGCI and the various ministries by means of reshuffling staff. This strategy, explained by the ‘routine’ view of the presidency function, and by the French preference for a very ‘Parisian’ management style, also has its source in budgetary considerations. The costs of the EU presidency have tended to rise and rise because of the continuous expansion of the EU’s policy scope, the disproportionate weight placed on the summits, the multiplication of specialist mini-summits (at Evian, Lille, Montbéliard, for example), and the mass of colloquia and parallel events that the representatives of the member states, including the candidate countries, are regularly invited to address. Member states have been drawn into outbidding each other over their presidency show, and this has financial implications for the presidencies. The French presidency did not centralise the organisation of its meetings, informal councils or ministerial enclaves, and this gave an impression of amateurism. Recourse was made to specialists within ministries, and the autonomy of these figures, as well as having opted for a very small presidency Secretariat, led to organisational difficulties. The Swedish, Portuguese and Finnish presidencies had each had a very competent team dedicated to presidency logistics (translation, accommodation, presidency logo, etc.). In the French case, there was nothing of the sort. The SGCI (see note 7 to this chapter) and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were directly involved in the summits but created an air of uncertainty where the organisation of all the other events was concerned. The lack of resources delegated to these affairs created a sort of logistical black hole which only

How French policy-makers see themselves

31

reinforced this image of dilettantisme and insouciance whenever the event in question was not one that benefited from strong media attention. From a more political point of view, the lack of preparation for the presidency made itself felt in the drafting of the programme itself and in the definition of the French position on certain questions. Mediation between French and European interests suffered in a general way from cohabitation. The impact of this unique state of affairs in Europe was interpreted differently by the various French presidency actors. For some, notably those in the French Permanent Representation, what was most striking and significant were the negative effects of the lack of interest that France’s leaders took in the presidency because of their focus on the forth-coming 2002 elections, and the running of domestic affairs, and a degree of confusion detectable in France’s various positions. This viewpoint is, naturally, somewhat different to that of Paris itself and the entourages of the two leaders. Here we were reminded of the implicit power-sharing arrangement between the French president and prime minister, and the measures taken to limit and contain any dissonance. As a matter of fact, the presidential and prime ministerial advisers did make a continuous effort to reach a compromise so that their differences were actually less marked than under normal circumstances. This is why we consider the negative effects of cohabitation to have been less significant than those suffered by member states whose governments are composed of fragile coalitions which do not manage to hold a coherent line in Brussels. Moreover, cohabitation had the considerable advantages of neutralising any parliamentary criticism, in France, of the EU presidency. Visionary France? The results of the French presidency were not negligible. A number of advances were made in European defence and in what was presented as ‘Citizens’ Europe’; namely, the set of measures aimed to demonstrate to the EU’s citizens that their concerns were being addressed (the Charter of Fundamental Rights, improvements to food and transport safety, and social policy progress, for example). Nevertheless, the assessment of this French presidency, in Europe’s press and in interviews carried out with many actors of the EU’s political system, was a lot less flattering. This negative impression is closely related to the attitudes of France’s leaders at the Nice summit, which undermined a more positive evaluation of the way in which France had reconciled the presidency roles of mediator and key player. The French presidency, while certainly never practising selfdenial or sacrifice, did not generally focus all of its presidency action on the defence of specific French interests, nor on the exclusive promotion of a particularly favourite dossier; unlike other member states, France is not deemed to be partisan or obsessive in this respect. Thus the French attitude at Nice towards the ‘un-hitching’ of the French and German votes (its refusal to end Franco-German parity, in other words), was particularly shocking to observers, especially as it was so at odds with the very ambitious declarations made six months earlier by French leaders on the reform of the treaties or even, in the case of Jacques Chirac, on the adoption of a European Constitution. French opposition to ending Franco-Germany parity focused others’ attention in that it was both a perfect illustration of one of the dimensions of the French stereotype (arrogance), and a deviation from another of these dimensions (France’s visionary character). Usually, it is this second aspect which makes French arrogance tolerable in the eyes of the other member states.

French relations with the European Union

32

French leaders, as organisers of the summit, as the principal promoters of treaty reform, and as the ‘historical’ actors of European integration, had been expected to make the sacrifices that were necessary to reach a compromise, and not to make the negotiations hinge on the ‘small’ states and expectations of their traditional commitment to European integration. In 2000, far from escaping from its stereotype, France fell victim to it in each of its respects, falling prey to arrogance and organisational shortcomings, yet confounding the stereotypical expectations of France’s capacity for visionary thinking and action. The impact of cross-perceptions The self-perceptions held by the French presidency actors, and the choices they made, were closely determined by the factors discussed above; namely, where France lies along the various cleavages between the EU member states, and its presidency style. Yet there are a number of factors which since 2000 point to attempts by the French to escape their stereotypical image. This is particularly the case where the French reputation for arrogance and authoritarianism is concerned. Whereas this reputation was not a particular handicap to the defence of French interests or the success of French presidencies when France could rely on the dynamics of the Franco-German ‘couple’, this is no longer the case. The decision-making process in the Council, which for many years relied on compromises being struck between the ‘large’ member states and, above all, between France and Germany, has become much more uncertain and open, making it vital for the presidency to maintain the best possible conditions for peaceful, constructive and, ideally, consensual negotiation. Yet despite the ambitious claims made by French leaders of a change of attitude, this analysis of the 2000 French EU presidency shows that at that time they were unable convincingly to modify their behaviour, which is profoundly rooted in French political and administrative culture, and which is linked to perceptions of France in the world which cannot be expected to alter radically overnight. There is a symmetry in the perceptions held by the other member states of French actors, and how the French perceive themselves. Indeed, French actors are just as much prisoners of their habits as of their stereotypes. Stereotypes create expectations, according to which the slightest move is interpreted. These expectations are not exclusively negative. In the case of France, observers had hoped for imagination and boldness leading to a new and ambitious treaty. This expectation was not met, since the presidency proved itself incapable of creating a broad consensus, and the inflexibility of the French over parity proved to be a major obstacle in securing consensus. Here too we note that the role of stereotypes is not neutral. For example, observers would doubtless have found it natural had a British or Greek presidency openly defended its national interest in an intergovernmental negotiation; this is not expected of France. The French national stereotype, whether France’s leaders conform to it or not, thus did condition others’ perceptions of the presidency rhetoric and reality. In this way it determined the results that the presidency could achieve or, at the very least, the evaluation of these results—which when it comes to the final reckoning comes to much the same thing. The fact that the French presidency was a disappointment owes less to the arrogance of French leaders or their organisational shortcomings, which had been

How French policy-makers see themselves

33

expected, than to the presidency’s inability to overcome the obstacles it encountered by means of bold initiatives and a spirited defence of the ‘European general interest’. In a way, France did not play its stereotypical role to the full, but confirmed its most contentious aspects—by its displays of arrogance, and a rather casual approach to practicalities—while falling short of its most positive aspects in its failure to make sacrifices or be sufficiently inventive. This conclusion presupposes an underlying instability in the practices, attitudes and positions of French leaders, which seems incompatible with the very notion of stereotypes. We therefore have to enter a caveat namely, the very specific circumstances of the 2000 IGC which, for the first time since 1957, was supposed to modify substantially the national weightings in the EU’s various institutions. The French 2000 EU presidency, in our view, was characterised more by a disequilibrium between the three components of its stereotype (arrogance, organisational short-comings and visionary abilities), caused by circumstances, than by a fundamental change in the French stereotype. History tells us that the behaviour of French leaders is relatively autonomous from their party affiliations and from domestic politics, with François Mitterrand’s ‘Uturn’ of 1983 being a good example of this. Thus, the arrival of the French right to power in 2002 by virtue of President Chirac’s re-election has not yet had any notable impact on France’s European policy or the attitudes of its Eurocrats. Since 2002, the French stereotype has been perfectly illustrated by Jacques Chirac’s and Dominique de Villepin’s positions over the war in Iraq (arrogance), by the ability of Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and the Franco-German couple to bring to fruition the work of the Convention on the Future of Europe (vision), and by the tense relationship between the minister of foreign affairs and his junior European minister Noëlle Lenoir (organisational shortcomings).

Conclusion In this chapter we have emphasised the determining influence that self-perception, cultural traditions and prejudice can have on a member state’s approach to the EU presidency function. From the accounts of French players in the 2000 EU presidency we can clearly detect how stereotypes and their perception closely condition the results that a member state can achieve. Stereotypes are functional in that they play an essential role in the decoding of behaviours, and also in how they condition behaviour itself. Behaviours and stereotypes are in a complex and circular relationship which is itself, in part, the product of expectations created largely by stereotypes. France’s behaviour when fulfilling the EU’s leadership function was thus conditioned on the one hand by the way in which this leadership was perceived by the other member states and, on the other, by the way in which French players thought that it would be perceived. Stereotypes, however, do not function only as a constraint. They provide markers which allow dialogue to occur across cultural differences. When difficulties arise it is because these markers introduce a measure of inflexibility, where any change can be the source of misunderstanding and when these situations are then instrumentalised by national leaders. The French presidency may well have fallen victim to its stereotype, but it also benefited from it in order to act as it saw fit, and to avoid making excessive efforts

French relations with the European Union

34

to modify its behaviour. Having tried to present a different face, and having noted that its efforts were unsuccessful, French players allowed themselves the luxury of reverting to type.

Interviews M.Pascal Fontaine, Secrétaire général adjoint, EPP Group, European Parliament, 12 December 2000. M.Jean-Marc Laforest, Secrétaire général adjoint, PSE Group, European Parliament, Brussels, 21 September 2001. M.Jean-Louis Bourlanges, MEP, Brussels, 22 February 2001. M. Jean-Paul Albertini, Chef de Cabinet, Ministère de l’environnement (responsible for European questions during the 2000 EU presidency), Paris, 22 March 2001. M.Gilles Briatta, member of the French Permanent Representation in Brussels, Brussels, 22 February 2001. M.Michel Guilbaud, Directeur-adjoint of the SGCI, Paris, 6 February 2001. M.Jacques Lapouge, adviser to the President of the Republic for European Affairs, Paris, 14 March 2001. M.Philippe Leglise-Costa, member of the cabinet of the Ministre des Affaires étrangères, Paris, 1 March 2001. M.Patrick Maisonnave, member of the cabinet of the Ministre délégué aux Affaires européennes, Paris, 1 March 2001. M.Michael Shackleton, administrator, European Parliament, Brussels, 24 January 2001. M.Jean Vidal, adviser to the prime minister, for European Affairs, Director of the SGCI, Paris, 14 March 2001.

Notes 1 Pierre Moscovici, former French Minister of European Affairs (1997–2002) acknowledged the fact that these stereotypes do help actors make sense of their environment. Citing Walter Lipmann, he emphasised how important it is to reduce this environment to a simplified model in order to then manage it (Moscovici, 2000). 2 The Constitution finally adopted by the EU heads of state and government in June 2004 provides for a permanent president of the European Council for a period of two and a half years. We could imagine that a permanent president would be at pains to avoid falling into his or her national stereotype and would be expected to defend a clearly supranational vision and functioning of the Union. Moreover, as is currently the case with European Commissioners, it is likely that s/he would be expected to surround him/herself with colleagues from different member states. Such a reform would deprive national stereotypes of their most visible expression. 3 We give the date of the most recent presidency of the state. Most of our interviews were carried out in the first semester of 2001, and we have not covered presidencies after 1 July 2001. 4 On this point see the Aide mémoire de la présidence française 2000, published by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It was an internal document, addressed to all of the actors of the French presidency. It contained descriptive summaries of Council decision-making, the

How French policy-makers see themselves

35

Council’s relations with the other EU institutions, the budgetary aspects of EU’s policies, relations with national parliaments, and gave guidelines on practical matters. 5 See Costa (2001), Drake (2001), Sauron (2000a). 6 This catholic term refers to French officials meeting with each of the different delegations in turn, so as to convince them individually. 7 The General Secretariat for Interministerial Coordination is under the authority of the French prime minister and its primary tasks are to ensure the coherence of French EU policy positions and to arbitrate between ministries as required. 8 In French this means ‘something utterly unimportant’.

3 French Euroscepticism and the politics of indifference Chris Flood

Introduction This chapter analyses expressions of Euroscepticism since the early 1990s in public attitudes, in the ideology and policy positions of political parties, and in elections.1 Doubt or hostility concerning the advance of European integration was not an entirely new phenomenon in France either at elite or popular level. At various times it had generated divisions within and between political parties. Opinion polls had likewise shown divisions among the wider public. However, in contrast to the acquiescence which had accompanied the passage of the Single European Act in the mid-1980s, the strength of opposition shown by the ‘no’ campaign and the narrow result in the referendum on ratification of the Treaty of European Union (TEU) in 1992 raised the question of whether the projected step-change in the depth and pace of European integration would cause a pro-longed backlash in France among sections of the political classes and of the electorate—or at least a lengthy period of anxiety, misgivings and episodic expressions of resentment. With hindsight it can be seen that after the initial public turmoil crystallised by the referendum campaign, articulations of Euroscepticism in party politics and in public attitudes, echoed and amplified in the media, were, indeed, relatively significant in the 1990s and early 2000s. But they were not significant enough to produce a major realignment of the party system on the basis of positions towards the EU which cut across traditional right-left divisions. Nor were they sufficiently important to prompt substantial modifications of the direction of governmental policy under the Mitterrand/PS government to 1993, the Mitterrand/RPR-UDF cohabitation of 1993–5, the Chirac/RPRUDF administration of 1995–7, the Chirac/Gauche Plurielle cohabitation of 1997–2002 or, thus far, under the Chirac/UMP government in power since the elections of 2002. The argument here will be that Euroscepticism in France, though by no means a mirage, is an elusive phenomenon. At elite level it adds an interesting dimension to certain ideological currents on both the right and left, as articulated by politicians, publicists, intellectuals and others. Among the wider public, reflected in opinion polls, some degree of Euroscepticism is a factor in the attitudes of a significant minority. However, it is often a scepticism of indifference or detachment more than outright antagonism. This helps to explain why a pronounced Eurosceptical stance has not so far proved a major vote-winner for presidential contenders or for political parties, except in elections to the European Parliament which voters regard as being of secondary importance. Furthermore, in the context of competition for power and/or public support,

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

37

party positions which are proclaimed with foaming rhetorical bluster and an appearance of great conviction at one election may be discretely modified for tactical reasons on the next occasion. This creates the impression of a lack of serious intent, and perhaps a tacit recognition of the inherent implausibility of promises to make a decisive impact on the direction of the EU or even to withdraw France from membership.

Public attitudes: the apparent importance of indifference It has become something of a truism that the permissive consensus of previous decades in France and some other member states concerning European integration broke down in 1992 (e.g., Franklin et al., 1994; Hix, 1999a). Since then, support has never returned to the level it had reached by the later 1980s after having risen significantly throughout that decade in response to optimistic assumptions concerning the development of the single market and the reflected glory of Jacques Delors as president of the Commission from 1985 onwards. The crisis of confidence crystallised by the Maastricht ratification debate opened a period of uncertainty which accompanied major changes and debates in the EU—including the accession of Sweden, Finland and Austria in 1995; the Amsterdam Treaty in 1996; the tense negotiations in the late 1990s prior to completion of Monetary Union; the scandals leading to the resignation of the Commission in 1999; and the Nice Treaty in 2001 laying the ground for a major enlargement to the east (for general studies of French public opinion on the EU, see Cautrès and Reynié, 2000, 2002; Reynié and Cautrès, 2001; Reynié, 2003). The regular Eurobarometer (EB) surveys of public opinion include a question asking respondents whether they consider their country’s membership of the EU to be a good thing, neither good nor bad, or a bad thing. Those who consider membership a bad thing could be labelled for convenience as rejectionists. Presumably a person who believes membership to be undesirable would want France to leave, if that was feasible, although the correlation is not automatic, since he/she might reason pragmatically that the economic and political costs of leaving now outweighed the costs of staying in. Those who fall into this group are very much a minority. The proportion of respondents who regarded membership of the EU as a bad thing had been below 10 per cent in the 1980s, but from 1990 to 2002, between a low of 8 per cent in 1990 and a high of 19 per cent in late 1996, it had run at 12–14 per cent, giving an approximate average of 13 per cent. Clearly the fairly small percentage of rejectionists does not exhaust the pool of actual or potential Eurosceptics, since it has to be supposed that there are others who would not want France to leave the EU, and who might even consider membership a positive good in principle, but could be termed revisionists in the sense that they would prefer it if the clock could be turned back to an earlier stage of the EU’s development, when it was less integrated, or at least minimalists who would have wished that integration did not proceed much further. The existence of large numbers of people who say that they see membership as neither good nor bad is intriguing, given the political and economic importance of the EU for its member states. How could it be construed as neutral in its consequences for France? Is it merely an expression of permissive consensus about a system which is so much a part of the background that it does not stir positive or negative judgement? In the EB surveys this proportion varied between a low of 19 per cent in

French relations with the European Union

38

1990 and a high of 37 per cent in 1996, with an average of 29 per cent over the period from 1990 to 2002, a few per cent above the EU mean. Further investigation tends to suggest that the neutral response often implies a lack of enthusiasm or commitment. For example, during the early 1990s respondents were regularly asked what their feelings would be if the EU was scrapped. They were offered the choice of ‘very sorry’, ‘indifferent’, ‘very relieved’ or ‘don’t know’. The question was dropped for several years in the mid-1990s then revived in 1998. If cases are taken from 1990 (before the crystallisation of opposition over the Maastricht Treaty), 1994, 1998 and 2002, using the original datasets from the surveys, there are some striking features in the association between responses to that question and answers to the question of whether respondents thought membership was good, bad or neither good nor bad: 1 Taking the overall totals of responses to the question on the hypothetical dissolution of the EU in each of the surveys, the proportion of respondents who said they would be very relieved was small, though more than double in 2002 (15.3 per cent) what it had been in 1990 (6.4 per cent). Predictably, the largest proportion of those responses was among respondents who said they considered France’s membership of the EU to be a bad thing (rising to 62.7 per cent of that group by 2002). 2 The proportion of all respondents who suggested that they would be indifferent to the EU’s dissolution was substantial and rising (from 34.4 per cent in 1990 to 44.7 per cent in 2002). By 1998 it was equal to the proportion of those who would very much regret the disappearance of the EU, and in the 2002 survey it was significantly ahead. Particularly high levels of indifference to the hypothetical disappearance of the EU were shown by respondents who answered that France’s membership of the EU was neither good nor bad. The same was true of those who had said that they did not know whether France’s membership was good, bad or neither good nor bad. If these indications are taken alongside others, the impression is that a substantial section of the population at the very least lacks commitment to the recent and current direction of the EU. From the standpoint of assessing Euroscepticism, it may suggest a disconcerting level of detachment among a substantial minority. To take a negative interpretation, this might be supposed to overlay anxiety coupled with a sense of powerlessness in the face of a seemingly inexorable process endorsed by France’s elites on both sides of the political spectrum. This hypothesis could be supported by other EB data. Over the period from 1990 to 2002, when asked if they

Table 3.1 Association between attitudes towards France’s membership of the EU and attitudes towards its hypothetical dissolution Membership Dissolution 1990 1990 1994 1994 1998 1998 2002 2002 for/against sorry/not % of % of % of % of % of % of % of % of group France group France group France group France sample sample sample sample Good thing

V. sorry

67.7

42.7

67.9

39.5

62.5

32.8

57.9

27.8

Indifferent

24.4

15.4

26.4

15.4

29.2

15.3

29.4

14.1

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

39

V. relieved

1.4

0.9

1.4

0.8

1.7

0.9

2.8

1.3

DK

6.5

4.1

4.3

2.5

6.7

3.5

9.9

4.8

Neither good V. sorry

17.9

4.4

12.7

3.5

13.9

4.1

5.6

1.9

nor bad

Indifferent

63.5

15.8

65.6

17.9

59.6

17.5

70.4

23.8

V. relieved

8.8

2.2

11.0

3.0

13.9

4.1

14.3

4.9

DK

9.9

2.4

10.7

2.9

12.6

3.7

9.7

3.2

V. sorry

9.6

0.7

6.5

0.8

8.3

1.0

4.6

0.7

Indifferent

41.8

3.0

31.3

3.7

25.5

3.0

30.8

4.2

V. relieved

39.1

2.8

60.2

7.1

60.1

7.3

62.7

8.6

9.4

0.7

2.0

0.2

6.2

0.8

1.9

0.3

V. sorry

37.4

1.9

18.4

0.5

11.4

0.7

1.8

0.1

Indifferent

23.8

0.2

29.8

0.8

47.5

2.8

56.1

2.6

V. relieved

10.4

0.5

6.2

0.2

6.6

0.4

12.5

0.6

DK

28.5

1.4

45.6

1.2

34.5

2.1

29.6

1.3

Bad thing

DK DK/NA

Total

V. sorry

49.7

44.3

38.6

30.4

34.4

37.8

38.6

44.7

V. relieved

6.4

11.1

12.7

15.3

DK

8.6

6.8

10.1

9.6

dissolution Indifferent sorry/not

Sources: Datasets for EB 33, 42, 50.0, 57.1. Weightings of EB33 and EB42 standardised to 1000. Weighting of 50.0 standardised to 1020. Weighting of 57.1 from sample since standardised weight no longer available.

thought France had benefited from membership of the EU (which is admittedly a hard question to answer since it is impossible to know what would have happened if things had been different), an average of 32 per cent of respondents said that they thought it had not, and a further 21 per cent on average did not know. In fact, the proportion who do think France has benefited from membership has been below 60 per cent since 1992 and has often been below 50 per cent since the mid-1990s. To take the example of EB57.1, based on fieldwork in spring 2002, other pointers give some credence to the view that there is widespread uncertainty, with 46 per cent tending not to trust the EU, 33 per cent claiming to feel a sense of national identity only, rather than some element of European (see Schild, 2001, for research on earlier data), and on key policies, 28 per cent opposed to EMU, 28 per cent opposed to Common Foreign Policy, and 47 per cent against enlargement. The picture can be supplemented with snapshots from national opinion polls, such as the massive IFOP exit poll (13 June) taken after the European Parliament elections in 1999. This included a question inviting respondents to take a retrospective view of the EU’s development since the ratification of the TEU. At the time of the Maastricht referendum, the close result, with 51 per cent voting yes and 49 per cent voting no, had

French relations with the European Union

40

undoubtedly been the product of a political context which included domestic and international factors beyond the content and implications of the Treaty itself—hence the possibility that the result overstated the extent of scepticism regarding the projected course of EU integration. Nevertheless, the implication was that the EU had a long way to go before it won the support of a real majority in France. The responses in 1999 implied that this had not happened. When asked if they thought the EU had been moving in the right or the wrong direction since Maastricht, 37 per cent said the direction had been right, but 38 per cent considered it to have been wrong and 25 per cent made no reply. In the same poll respondents were also asked whether they preferred a federal Europe or a Europe of states: 29 per cent chose a federal Europe, but these respondents were comfortably exceeded in number by the 41 per cent who favoured a Europe of states, and 30 per cent made no reply. When a similar question was asked in another IFOP poll (21–22 March 2002) in the run-up to the presidential election, 34 per cent chose the federal answer, but the proportion who favoured a Europe of states had risen to 58 per cent, and just over a year later, in response to IFOP (2–3 May 2003) once again, the respective proportions were 36 per cent and 63 per cent. Demographic distributions of support and lack of support within the French population broadly fit the predominant patterns which have been observed across the EU (Gabel, 1998; Hix, 1999b). For reasons which remain a matter of speculation, support tends to be lower among women than men. In the surveys which have been used to illustrate the present chapter the difference between the sexes is particularly consistent on the affective question of feelings in the event of the hypothetical disappearance of the EU. However, there is little consistent variation between age groups of either sex, although young women are more inclined to be supportive than their older counterparts, whereas this is not consistently the case among men. On the other hand, there is a rural-urban, or at least provincial-metropolitan, divide in so far as support or attachment is weaker among those living in villages and small towns than in large towns of over 100,000 inhabitants and, above all, in Paris. Level of education also makes a difference, with the less educated, those who had not been educated beyond the age of 15 or less, being the least supportive, followed by those whose education had ended between the ages of 16 and 19, while those who had continued in some form of higher education or those who were still studying at the time of being questioned consistently showed stronger support. Income makes a difference only towards the top end and, to a lesser extent, the lower end. When measured in quartiles on household income, support can be seen to be particularly strong among those in the highest bracket (the only group whose respondents had been in favour of Maastricht by a comfortable absolute majority) and weakest among the lowest quartile, but there is not huge variation between the latter and the two middle groups, which are in turn very close to each other. Similarly, proportions of rejectionists are broadly similar across all but the top group. As for occupational categories, those which recur most frequently with below-average levels of positive support are farmers, unskilled and semiskilled manual workers, retired people and housewives. Restricted circumstances, localisation of focus, lack of education and simple lack of interest distance many people from the EU. From these snapshots of public attitudes it can be inferred, with some support from a major qualitative survey published by Eurobarometer (2001), that although the balance of French public opinion supports the principle of continuing European integration, and only

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

41

a fairly small percentage show outright hostility to the whole project, there are quite high levels of scepticism regarding aspects of the EU’s governance and the direction of integration. In addition to the 10–15 per cent who are outright rejectionists, a large section of opinion, perhaps as much as one quarter of the population, is soft, unenthusiastic, indifferent or distrustful to varying degrees. For recent years this tendency is further confirmed by annual surveys carried out for the Ministry of European Affairs by Ipsos since 1997, which show an average of more than a third of respondents viewing the EU integration process more or less negatively, with hostility, fear or indifference. Of course, individuals do not have to hold consistent or coherent opinions or pay serious attention to EU issues which must very often appear aridly technical and distant. Therefore it is not surprising that survey data may suggest contradictory tendencies as well as widespread indifference. Euroscepticism at mass public level can be understood as being as much about lack of positive commitment as about active doubt or hostility. What are the implications of these attitudes for traditional political divisions? The EB datasets regularly include a question asking respondents where they place themselves on a ten-point scale from left to right. The answers are obviously impressionistic, given the fluidity of conceptions of left and right, especially when applied by members of the public to themselves. Nevertheless, the responses have some indicative value. Table 3.2 draws attention to the fact that support is strongest on the moderate left (mainly including Socialist voters), whereas rejection is strongest on the hard right (mainly FN and RPR voters), followed by the moderate right (largest groups being RPR and UDF) and the hard left (largest groups being Socialists and Communists)—although it is worth pointing out that the number of respondents placing themselves at points 9 or 10 on the left-right scale is very small, perhaps because of the unsavoury associations of the notion of ‘extreme right’.2 Neutrality, indifference or doubt as to the benefit of membership are common to between a quarter and a third or more across the whole left-right spectrum. Similarly, as Table 3.3 shows, when responses to questions on whether specific policy areas should be decided at EU level or at national level are compared there is some variation of level of attachment to national decision-making from soft left to hard right, with hard left falling closer to soft right in this regard; but there is striking conformity in the ranking of policy areas for which more than 50 per cent of respondents want to see decision-making remain at national level. Only the hard right’s wariness of EU decision-making in defence policy and, predictably, on immigration stands out as markedly more intense than the norm for the sample, which is nevertheless higher for all groups than concern over foreign policy or, to a lesser extent, monetary union. All groups show particular concern that France should retain control over its own welfare provision and the communication of its own culture through education or other means. Some policy areas which have been added to the list in recent years (therefore, not in the table), including policing, the judicial system, juvenile crime and urban crime, encounter levels of resistance to the principle of EU decision-making at 50–60 per cent or higher across the left-right spectrum, although the fight against international terrorism, like drug crime and organised crime, provokes little resistance, presumably because these are areas in which the source of the societal problem is itself recognised as transnational. On the face of it, then, the demand for restraining the extension of the EU’s competences into a range of new policy areas is variable but substantial. Up to a point these defensive public attitudes cut across the traditional left-right divide. On the other

French relations with the European Union

42

hand, this does not in itself constitute a coherent political market because the fact that the attitudes are widely shared in terms of for/against actual or potential developments of the EU does not reveal anything about the reasons for holding those attitudes, which may make those who hold them for one set of reasons consider that they still have little in common with those who hold them for different

Table 3.2 Association of left-right self-placement with responses to three questions (bold=highest group percentage on that response) Left-right For/against Average Country’s Average Hypothetical Average selfplacement country’s (%) benefit from (%) dissolution of (%) (recoded 10-pt membership membership EU scale) Left (1–2) Av. 10.1% of France sample

Good thing Neither good nor bad Bad thing DK

56.6 Benefited 28.5 Not benefited 11.5 DK 3.5

56.4 Very sorry 30.2 Indifferent 13.5 Very relieved DK

42.6 36.0 12.7 8.7

3–4 Av. 22.1% of France sample

Good thing Neither good nor bad Bad thing DK

62.4 Benefited 25.1 Not benefited 9.4 DK 3.1

54.8 Very sorry 26.0 Indifferent 19.2 Very relieved DK

48.8 35.5 9.5 6.3

5–6 Av. 31.4% of France sample

Good thing Neither good nor bad Bad thing DK

55.3 Benefited 30.9 Not benefited 9.7 DK 4.1

51.8 Very sorry 26.7 Indifferent 21.5 Very relieved DK

39.0 42.4 11.0 7.7

7–8 Av. 14.1% of France sample

Good thing Neither good nor bad Bad thing DK

55.6 Benefited 26.9 Not benefited 13.9 DK 3.7

48.6 Very sorry 32.3 Indifferent 19.1 Very relieved DK

43.0 37.2 13.2 6.7

Right (9–10) Av. 4.7% of France sample

Good thing Neither good nor bad Bad thing DK

43.1 Benefited 32.9 Not benefited 20.8 DK 3.2

43.1 Very sorry 35.8 Indifferent 21.0 Very relieved DK

33.1 42.0 21.0 4.5

DK/NA Av. 17.5% of France sample

Good thing Neither good nor bad Bad thing DK

49.9 Benefited 30.1 Not benefited 11.3 DK 8.8

41.0 Very sorry 28.1 Indifferent 31.0 Very relieved DK

33.2 40.2 9.6 17.1

France sample av. %

Good thing Neither good

55.5 Benefited 28.8 Not benefited

50.4 Very sorry 28.4 Indifferent

40.8 39.2

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

nor bad Bad thing DK

11.2 DK 4.6

43

21.3 Very relieved DK

11.4 8.8

Sources: EB 33, 42, 50.0, 57.1 datasets.

Table 3.3 Association of left-right self-placement with responses rejecting EU-level decision-making in specific policy areas Left-right selfplacement (receded 10-pt scale)

Left 1–2 3–4 % % (rank) (rank)

5–6 % (rank)

7–8 % (rank)

Right 9–10 France % (rank) sample % (rank)

Defence

44.9 (6)

42.2 (5)

47.3 (5)

48.8 (5)

61.6 (3)

46.3 (5)

Foreign policy

22.9(11)

19.0(12)

18.2(12)

22.6(11)

19.7(12=)

19.3(12)

Environment

32.5 (8)

27.8 (9)

32.5 (9)

32.9 (9)

39.0 (9)

32.0 (9)

Currency

30.6 (10)

26.5(10)

26.4(10)

28.6(10)

33.0 (10)

27.8 (10)

Health and welfare

73.4 (1)

69.1 (1)

69.8 (1)

67.7 (1)

73.8 (1)

69.5 (1)

Education

65.6 (2)

62.2 (2)

63.1 (2)

65.5 (2)

63.7 (2)

63.2 (2)

Media regulation

47.0 (5)

50.9 (4)

50.7 (4)

52.8 (4)

54.9 (6)

51.1 (4)

Scientific research

21.2 (12)

17.7 (13) 16.5 (13) 20.6 (13) 19.7 (12=)

18.7 (13)

Unemployment*

48.3 (4)

38.3 (6)

43.3 (6)

41.3 (8)

52.8 (7)

43.6 (6)

Cultural policy*

56.1 (3)

59.9 (3)

54.8 (3)

63.0 (3)

61.4(4)

58.0 (3)

Immigration*

31.8 (9)

36.8(7)

35.3(8)

43.2(7)

56.3 (5)

37.5 (8)

Asylum*

39.2 (7)

34.6 (8)

36.1 (7)

46.3 (6)

49.1 (8)

38.2 (7)

Drugs*

19.5(13)

21.0(11)

22.1(11)

20.9(12)

30.6 (11)

22.7(11)

Sources: EB 33, 42, 50.0, 57.1 (excluding DK/NAs); list includes only policy areas which recurred in at least three of the EBs used. Note *Not included in EB 33.

reasons. Equally, the responses tell us nothing about the salience of the issues in the minds of these respondents. Ideology and policy positions What has the French public been offered in the way of Eurosceptical arguments and policy positions by party politicians and publicists? Unlike nationalism, of which it is sometimes, but not always, a vehicle, Euroscepticism is a purely negative concept, like anti-capitalism, anti-militarism or anti-Semitism. In the discourse of political, economic and intellectual elites it can involve more or less coherent, highly elaborated sets of ideas,

French relations with the European Union

44

beliefs and attitudes. However, it does not constitute a full-blown ideology in its own right, since it does not offer a comprehensive, potentially universalisable view of man and society. It focuses only on negative aspects of the ordering of a particular set of societies in so far as they are bound together in the EU. It might perhaps be considered as a partial ideology but it is more usefully viewed as a component of other ideologies. Across the EU and candidate countries variation between different versions of Euroscepticism, as well as between the arrangements offered as preferable alternatives to the present mode of EU integration, depends on the wider ideological framework in which Euroscepticism is embedded. There are characteristic areas of difference between left-wing and right-wing perspectives. There are also differences within the left and the right. Furthermore, across the EU and the accession states different national traditions and contexts generate further variations of focus or emphasis. This is not to deny that there are also areas of common ground. In France, as in other member states, the most widely aired arguments which recur across the ideological spectrum focus on objections to the EU’s over-centralisation, bureaucracy, technocracy, lack of transparency, lack of democratic accountability, adverse social as well as economic consequences of EMU, the inappropriateness or unworkability of the Schengen provisions on asylum and immigration, or problems expected to arise from enlargement to the east. In addition, contrary to right-wing parties in Britain and Denmark, the French right (mainstream and extreme), like the left, also emphasises the damage caused by neoliberal trade policy driven by the US-dominated GATT/WTO agenda for globalisation, and some, though not all, denounce the continuing subordination of defence to NATO under American hegemony. In these regards Euroscepticism creates strange bedfellows by cross-cutting traditional ideological divisions. Still, the extent of the shared ground between right and left should not be over-stated, as I believe it is by Bertrand Benoit (1997) who locates all of the French Eurosceptical groupings under the general heading of social nationalism. Some groups are much more social than others, and some are not nationalistic, whereas others are (see Table 3.4). Left-wing Euroscepticisms are very different from right-wing versions.

Table 3.4 Formerly or currently Eurosceptical parties with approximate indications of their policy positions in a range of areas Group

LCR/LO

Greens

Sovereignty Confederal Federal, EU balancing regional EU national and with legis. Eur. dem., subsidiarity incl. TUs and at all levels, NGOs incl. sub Anti-EMU national Anti-EMU

PCF

Ex-MDC RPF Repub. Repub. Assocs Assocs

Repatriate Repatriate Repatriate nat. nat. nat. + confed., powers + powers + intergov., confed., confed., democratic intergov., intergov., EU democratic democratic Anti-EMU EU EU Anti-EMU Anti-EMU

MPF

MNR

FN

Repatriate nat. powers + confed., intergov., democratic EU Anti-EMU

Renegotiate Abrogate treaties treaties and (threaten withdraw withdraw) from EU 4 Anti-EMU confed., intergov., democratic EU + Anti-EMU

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

Security

Trade

Immi gration

Denuclearise, Denuclearised Collective Indep. Eur. Reform Reform ETO in demilitarise collective security in defence NATO + NATO + place of UN/OSCE: (anti indep. Eur. Eur. NATO and disarm: security in leave NATO OSCE: leave leave Atlanticist) defence alliance + (anti and WEU NATO and NATO alliance intergov. Atlanticist) (anti WEU (anti (anti (ambivalent EDP Atlanticist) Atlanticist) Atlanticist) anti (ambivalent Atlanticist) Atlanticist) Equitable Equitable Antiliberal, EU EU EU Nat. etc. protection protection protection protection exchange, exchange, debt debt annulment, annulment, aid to aid to development development

Open EU and nat. fron tiers + full rights for all residents

Open EU and nat. frontiers + full rights for all residents

Anti Schengen + controlled entry + citizenship by residence

AntiSchengen + controlled entry + citizenship by residence

Economy/ EU EU econ. EU co-op to harmonise society socialisation gov’t, of key redistributive soc. conds+ sectors, eco-taxes, nat. dem. expropriation, taxes on socialism shopfloor business, democracy capital, etc.

Nat. gover nment and admin

45

Popular democracy (individual, TU, NGOs)

AntiSchengen + hardline national control

AntiAnti Schengen Schengen + + ultraultra-hard hard national national control and control and mass mass repatriation repatr iation SocialNational- National National liberal liberal social social-liberal (privatise, (privatise, liberal or (excluding detax, detax, Third Way immigrants) deregulate, deregulate, (excluding pop. pop. immi capitalism, capitalism, grants) soc. soc. safety protection) net)

Nat. dem. socialism, interv ention, strong public sector, redistri butive taxation, etc. Federal and Pres. + Pres.+ Strong ultra stronger stronger Pres. + decentralised parl. + parl. + parl. + decentralised decentralised decent ralised

Reference People Sustainable Social Class struggle world France Solidarity Social Europe

Republican values Nation Internati onalism

Eur. milit. alliance and bilateralism in place of NATO (anti Atlanticist) Nat. protection

AntiSchengen + hardline national control

Strong Pres. + parl. + decent ralised

Nation Nation (Vth) Family Republic De Gaulle

Pres.+parl. Pres.+parl. + + direct direct dem. dem. + + rationa rationalised lised decent decentralised ralised Nation Nation People People Identity Identity

This is not surprising because they reflect different views of human nature, different visions of history, different combinations of values and different conceptions of how

French relations with the European Union

46

society should be ordered. Among Eurosceptical sections of the left, notwithstanding the inevitable variations, there is substantial convergence between Green new-left, antiproductivist critiques of the EU and those of the traditional Socialist and Communist left as well as the Trotskyist LCR/LO, all of which now have strong Red/Green elements of ecologism incorporated in their policy prescriptions. Euroscepticism of the left attacks the EU on the grounds that its commitment to liberal capitalism, deregulation, free trade and globalisation is inimical to the interests of disadvantaged sections of European and other societies. In varying degrees all groups demand a redistributive, social Europe with major extensions of economic rights of working people, strong support for the public sector, public services, welfare provision and major advances in environmental protection. All favour a more open European citizenship: their shared objection to Schengen is that it is too restrictive and exclusionary in intent towards would-be immigrants and asylum applicants. All defend the need for a fully democratised Europe which gives ample scope to decision-making at national and sub-national levels as well as at supranational level, with a vital dimension of accountability to national parliaments. The anti-militarist stance of the new and the traditional left equally restricts support for European defence cooperation except for strictly limited purposes of UN-sanctioned peacekeeping. Conversely, there is shared support for massive increases in aid to, and cooperation with, developing countries outside Europe. However, there are also divergences. Whereas Green Eurosceptics tend to be Eurofederalist and one-worldist, the LCR implicitly likewise, with its own model of a United Socialist States of Europe, the PCF profoundly unclear but still probably confederalist and intergovernmentalist, the national-republican MDC—now part of the Mouvement Républicain et Citoyen (MRC) launched after the 2002 elections—was unabashedly inter-governmentalist and wary of supranationalism. It constantly stressed the fundamental reality and centrality of the nation-state as the linchpin of democratic governance and of true internationalism, at least until some distant time when there was such a thing as a single European people able to exercise meaningful sovereignty together. The positions of the Eurosceptical right, as represented by the MPF and RPF, and the extreme right, represented by the FN and MNR, show marked differences from those of the left, with the partial exception of the MDC/MRC, led by Jean-Pierre Chevènement. Their objections to the EU focus heavily on defence of national sovereignty, intergovernmentalism and some form of confederal model allowing plentiful scope for variable geometry and variable degrees of integration between member states. Defence of national identities against EU homogenisation is seen as vital. Whereas Eurosceptical positions of the left condemn the restrictiveness of Schengen as concerns immigration and asylum, the right attack it as a recipe for massive influxes of economic migrants claiming to be asylum seekers. The perceived threat is not only viewed in terms of disruption of domestic labour markets, but also of demands on the welfare state, problems of integration, and the dilution of national culture. At the same time, the antiliberal positions of the right are largely restricted to Euro- or national-protectionism in trade policy. They do not extend very far into other economic areas. They are notably hostile to the budgetary, and hence the taxation, demands required to sustain the costs of redistributive EU programmes, including Structural

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

47

Funds, the Cohesion Fund, and even the Common Agricultural Policy. Similarly, in the domestic economic sphere, while they emphasise the duty of social solidarity and participation, including the maintenance of an adequate system of welfare provision, they remain partisans of deregulation, privatisation, reduced taxation on business and encouragement of popular capitalism. And with regard to defence, while they advocate fundamental reform or the scrapping of NATO, their desire for an autonomous European military alliance is coupled with emphasis on the need for France to restore its own independent capacity and increase its military strength. In the later 1990s efforts were made to use Euroscepticism as a bridge between two ideological currents which had previously been taken to be opposed to each other across the divide between left and right. The ideological frame of reference of the RPF— founded in the wake of the 1999 European election and still residually in existence at the time of writing (although evinced from the European Parliament in the 2004 elections) set it somewhat apart from the other parties of the right, but appeared to mark out common ground with the MDC, which in turn stood somewhat apart from the rest of the left in this regard. The distinctive feature of their political discourse was the emphasis which both placed on the idea of the Republic. This is not to say that none of the other groups on the left or the right ever refer to the obvious and nowadays unexceptional fact that France is a republic or that they attack the principle of republican government. But they do not assign the same totemic significance to the idea in the context of their critiques of the recent direction of European integration. Certainly both parties shared many of the same objections to the EU and many of the same concerns for the preservation of France’s national identity, national institutions, national community, integrity and strength of the state, and an important role as a global actor, which they identified with their respective conceptions of the meaning of the Republic. However, as has often been pointed out (for example, in Hazareesingh, 1994), the republican tradition in France has encompassed many variations and ambiguities, both in theory and to an even greater extent in practice. The MDC and the RPF illustrate this. It is striking that the MDC frequently used the term républicain to evoke the continuity of the republican tradition since the Revolution, and in particular its commitment to the principles of freedom, democracy, equality, social solidarity and secularity. On the other hand, the discourse of the RPF tended to lean heavily on reference to the noun République with a capital R, evoking the Fifth Republic and the Gaullian inspiration in particular. This merely points to the obvious fact that, while there might be ideological similarities between these two Eurosceptical forms of republicanism, there were also important differences, most notably in their views on the socio-economic sphere (compare, for example, MDC, 2000 with RPF, 1999). Admittedly, both opposed unregulated free trade and the drive to globalisation, both attacked the social consequences of EU monetary policy, and both deplored the alleged abandonment of French economic interests in the face of EU demands for harmonisation. But the RPF was predominantly liberal, albeit with a social and interventionist dimension as far as management of the domestic economy was concerned, whereas the MDC was socialist and interventionist, albeit with a liberal dimension. Another exemplary difference was on Schengen in relation to immigration. Whereas the RPF was closer in this area to the closed, exclusionary nationalism of the extreme right and favoured hardline policies accordingly, the MDC, though arguing the need for

French relations with the European Union

48

controls, defended the integrationist tradition of the republican left, advocating the principle of openness, full civil and political rights for foreign residents and the right to citizenship on the basis of residence. In short, the overarching concept of national republicanism had limited depth, whereas the ideological and policy differences between Socialist and Gaullo-liberal versions were profound. Nevertheless, as will be seen later, supporters believed there was sufficient common ground for running a nationalrepublican presidential campaign in 2002 and forming the MRC as a new political party in the wake of the parliamentary elections of that year (the MRC subsequently declined to contest the 2004 European Parliament elections; some of its exmembers stood on PCF lists).

Party politics and elections The period from the early 1990s demonstrated the importance, but also the limitations of Euroscepticism as a mobilising political cause. Revisionist opposition to EU integration could draw substantial numbers of voters, but it only did so in contests focused specifically on the EU. In national elections it did not have a major impact. There is plentiful evidence to show that in France, as in other member states, the EU is of relatively low salience as a voting issue. EP elections (as well as referenda on the EU) are perceived as second-order competitions in which voters feel greater freedom in their voting choices—if they vote at all (Reif and Schmitt, 1980; van der Eijk and Franklin, 1996; Abrial and Pina, 1999; Hix, 1999a). Furthermore, voters for Eurosceptical groupings do not necessarily view EU issues as the primary reasons for their choice, even in European elections. These occasions are used in varying degrees by many voters to express general perceptions of government or opposition performance. That makes it difficult to assess the significance of Euroscepticism as an electoral factor. The ten years following the Maastricht referendum also illustrated the way in which the French multi-party system encourages the establishment of new groupings through schismatic proliferation. This divides support and often weakens the causes for which the parties claim to stand. At the same time, France exemplified the process observed by Paul Taggart (Taggart, 1998; Taggart and Sczerbiak, 2002) across the EU, whereby hardline revisionist or rejectionist Euroscepticism is usually articulated by parties positioned towards the extreme wings of the system in positions of radical opposition to mainstream parties aligned in more or less EU-integrationist positions. When/if those previously marginal parties are drawn closer to governmental power through coalition, the Eurosceptical positions tend to be moderated in favour of postures which emphasise that their criticisms of the EU are intended to be constructive pointers to the necessary direction of reform. While Euroscepticism had existed in France within both the right and the left before Maastricht (Bound and Featherstone, 1982; Cole, 1996; Shields, 1996), the referendum debate in 1992 had given opposition to closer integration a stronger political profile than previously. The very close 51/49 per cent result in favour of ratification demonstrated the existence of a large reservoir of voters who were willing to support Eurosceptical groups against the official policies of the major parties of the centre-left and centre-right. It also appeared to anticipate the possible convergence of sections of the right and left in

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

49

opposing further European integration in the future. In other words, it raised the question of whether political attitudes towards the EU, coupled with heightened awareness of the Europeanisation of domestic institutions, laws and practices would increasingly cut across traditional divisions between left and right. During the referendum campaign, the RPR had been badly split, with Philippe Séguin and Charles Pasqua leading the dissident voices. The conservative-liberal UDF, traditionally reputed for the strength of its support for European integration, had also displayed a renegade, anti-Maastricht faction led by Philippe de Villiers in the campaigning group, Combat pour les Valeurs, articulating positions shared with the ultra-conservative CNIP. Threatened with being outflanked, the FN had pursued its own loud campaign against ratification. In parallel, on the left, although the large majority of the PS held together in support of the ‘yes’ campaign, notwithstanding prior tactical objections to Mitterrand’s decision to call the referendum, the former CERES led by Jean-Pierre Chevènement under the new title of Socialisme et République (forerunner of the MDC/MRC), campaigned against ratification, as did the PCF, the LCR/LO and a section of the Greens. Seeking to capitalise on the apparent strength of opposition shown in the Maastricht referendum, the Eurosceptical right was visibly present in the 1994 European elections. The list, L’Autre Europe, led by Philippe de Villiers and Sir James Goldsmith, mainly representing dissidents from the parties of the mainstream right, attracted some 12.3 per cent of the national vote, while the FN list gained 10.5 per cent. Even if one excludes the 4 per cent scored by the ruralist and broadly conservative Eurosceptical grouping, Chasse-Pêche-Nature-Tradition, the aggregate vote for the right-wing Eurosceptical lists was fairly close to the 25.6 per cent won by the official RPR-UDF list which had campaigned on a strongly integrationist platform. Moreover, Euroscepticism was not restricted to rightwing lists, although the parties representing varying degrees of Euroscepticism on the left commanded less support than their counterparts on the right. Chevènement’s L’Autre Politique list attracted 2.5 per cent, the PCF’s list drew 6.9 per cent, the LO list 2.3 per cent. In all, then, a total of nearly 40 per cent for Eurosceptical parties, but split between a large number of lists. However, wariness of further European integration had by no means become a decisive electoral issue by the mid-1990s. Europe was not an overriding concern in the presidential election of 1995, and Euroscepticism was not sufficient to channel massive support towards those who made it an important plank of their platforms. The sum of the individual scores achieved in the first round by the Eurosceptics, de Villiers (4.7 per cent) and Le Pen (15 per cent), was only half that of the two RPR candidates, Edouard Balladur (18.6 per cent) and Jacques Chirac (20.8 per cent), both of whom had campaigned in broadly positive terms on European integration, including France’s projected participation in EMU. In fact, exit polls showed that Chirac and Balladur together won 38 per cent of the votes of those who had voted against Maastricht in 1992, while de Villiers and Le Pen together won only 34 per cent. Chirac and Balladur were also supported by 55 per cent of those who had voted for de Villiers’ own L’Autre Europe list in 1994, while de Villiers and Le Pen together won only 42 per cent. Similarly, Lionel Jospin’s campaign commitment to maintain France as a driving force in the EU did not push vast numbers of left-wing voters into support for EU-oppositional candidates who, in any case, had not made EU issues a centrepiece of any of their campaigns.

French relations with the European Union

50

This indication of the limits of Euroscepticism as a vote-winner in national elections applies similarly to the 1997 parliamentary election, which was not dominated by the issue of Europe either. There were certainly anti-federalist voices to be heard on the right, as well as on the left. The link between the government’s effort to meet the convergence criteria for EMU and its failure to deliver on Chirac’s 1995 electoral promises on reducing unemployment no doubt played a part. But it is by no means clear that the issue of European integration contributed strongly to the defeat of the RPR-UDF coalition. The Eurosceptics within the RPR and the UDF were little heard, and Philippe Séguin, the most powerful Gaullist voice against Maastricht in 1992, now struck a more flexible posture. Philippe de Villiers’ group, La Droite Indépendante (LDI), failed to fulfil his promise to make Europe the focal issue of the election. It scored only 2.8 per cent in the first round, winning only one seat after the run-offs in the second round. The FN, meanwhile, certainly used the European question, but as one among many issues on which to attack the government. Its relative success in scoring 15 per cent in the first round of voting suggested support for its whole anti-establishment, national populist package rather than an overriding concern about EU integration. A broadly similar contrast emerges between the performance of sceptical lists in the 1999 European elections and the national elections of 2002. The European contest took place under circumstances which might have favoured the emergence of a strong, new Eurosceptical grouping on the right. The FN had undergone an extremely acrimonious split in the autumn of 1998, officialised early in 1999 with the creation of the MNR as its rival. This raised the possibility of widespread disillusionment as well as electoral division among voters on the extreme right. On the other hand, the UDF having split after the regional elections in 1998 with the formation of Charles Millon’s party, La Droite, and Alain Madelin’s Démocratie Libérale (DL), it was later the turn of the RPR, which increasingly replaced the FN as an object of obsessive media interest during the weeks before and after the European election. The crisis crystallised around the European election campaign as an anti-integrationist list led by Charles Pasqua and Philippe de Villiers under the title of Rassemblement pour la France (RPF) challenged the mainstream RPR-DL list led by Sarkozy and Madelin, as well as François Bayrou’s UDF list. In the EP election of 1999, denouncing the mainstream right as well as the governmental left for selling out French interests, the Pasqua-de Villiers list no doubt aimed to win disillusioned voters not only from the fragmented centre-right but also from the extreme right. However, its success was fairly limited. The FN (5.7 per cent) and the MNR (3.3 per cent) together scored lower than the FN had done in 1994, and much lower than the average 15 per cent which the FN had achieved in national elections before the split. Yet, although its performance attracted a great deal of media interest at the time, the Pasqua-de Villiers list’s 13 per cent did not greatly increase on the proportion of the 1994 vote achieved by the forerunner of the MPF (12.3 per cent) in 1994. The CPNT (6.8 per cent), meanwhile, made an increase of 2.8 per cent on its score five years earlier. Thus, right-wing Euroscepticism had not advanced significantly, despite all of the tactical manoeuvres. On the left, meanwhile, the supply of Eurosceptical lists had declined under the effect of tactical realignment in the interests of coalition building. By 1999 left-wing Eurosceptics who did not want the LCR/LO (5.2 per cent), which still sounded a radical, revisionist note, might have found the message of the PCF (6.8 per

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

51

cent) and the Greens (9.7 per cent) rather disappointing, because in the context of the gauche plurielle coalition both parties tended to emphasise constructive reformism more than radical critique. Even more strikingly, the MDC was back in with the rest of the PS on a moderately reformist platform, subject to articulating its own objections to federalism. But what did this signify in terms of Europe as a voting issue? To what extent did people vote on EU issues, even in EP elections? The answer appears to be that the EU remained very much a secondary concern. To take the case of the 1999 EP election, a BVA pre-election poll in late May of that year found 58 per cent of respondents saying that they would vote mainly on domestic issues, 29 per cent that they would vote primarily on European issues and 13 per cent giving no reply. The massive IFOP exit poll of 17,530 voters on 13 June 1999 suggested that the European dimension had increased in salience by the time electors went to the polls at the end of the campaign, but still a relative majority of 44 per cent said they had voted mainly on domestic issues, 37 per cent mainly on European and 19 per cent made no reply. Still, whether or not voters had chosen primarily on domestic or European issues, there clearly was real anxiety about the recent direction of integration. As I mentioned in my earlier discussion of public attitudes, the question on whether respondents considered that Europe had been moving broadly in the right direction since Maastricht had elicited 37 per cent of negative replies. This view was held most strongly among voters for the LCR/LO, PCF, RPF or FN lists but was shared by 15–25 per cent among voters for all other parties. However, among all groups of voters, those who had supported revisionist lists had also voted most strongly on domestic issues as opposed to European, with the LCR/LO voters dividing 48 per cent mainly domestic versus 32 per cent mainly European, the RPF 58 per cent versus 25 per cent and the FN 74 per cent versus 9 per cent, as if Euroscepticism implied a deliberate unwillingness to engage with EU matters even in an EP election (see also Fourquet, 1999, 2001, on RPF voters in particular). The picture, though unclear, confirms the impression that while Euroscepticism becomes a more important factor in voting contests where the EU is the official focus of the campaigns, its salience in many voters’ eyes remains quite low even then. Unless something happens to raise EU issues very forcefully at the time of a national election, the salience is even lower and the market value of Eurosceptical policies for political parties is correspondingly low. The presidential and parliamentary elections of 2002 confirm that inference. In the interim the establishment of the RPF as a party at a time which was apparently ripe for picking up many disillusioned former supporters of the FN and MNR, as well as dissidents fleeing the fragmentation and in-fighting of the mainstream right, had been undermined by the inability of Charles Pasqua and Philippe de Villiers to collaborate with each other and to unite their sets of followers into a cohesive campaigning body. Hence the effective dissolution of the party in the course of 2000, the haemorrhage of support, and the fact that Pasqua chose not to run for the presidency, with only 1–3 per cent support according to the tracking polls, despite the fact that de Villiers was not standing. Instead, the baton of both the Gaullist and the socialist versions of what had come to be known as national republicanism passed to Chevènement. Although the MDC had to some extent sold its national-republican soul in the 1999 EP election to work with the PS, Chevènement’s credibility as a potential presidential candidate running against both Jospin and Chirac had been restored by his

French relations with the European Union

52

resignation from his post as minister of the interior in August 2000 on the issue of Corsican devolution, which he had treated as a touchstone of national sovereignty and integrity of the Republic. Chevènement was not the only Eurosceptical candidate in the presidential campaign. Interestingly, an article entitled ‘Tous contre l’Europe’ by the Croatian journalist Natasa Rajakovic in Libération on 26 March 2002 commented sardonically on the fact that all of the mainstream candidates, even including François Bayrou, normally considered a federalist, emphasised the need to protect French interests and French identity in Europe. Apart from Arlette Laguiller and Le Pen, Bernard Hue, Christine Boutin, Laurent de Saint-Josse, André Gluckstein and Bruno Mégret all expressed varying degrees of Euroscepticism (Drake, 2004). However, Chevènement’s campaign was distinguished by the prominence which it gave to Eurosceptical, national-republican themes which were intended to build an electoral constituency spanning both left and right. During the campaign Chevènement defined himself, in effect, as a left-Gaullist, describing his own political career as having been inspired by ‘la certitude que pour inscrire dans la durée l’oeuvre que le général de Gaulle avait entreprise en 1940, il fallait réconcilier la Vème République et la justice sociale’ (La Croix, 11 November 2001).3 He added even more unequivocally: ‘Suivre l’inspiration gaulliste, c’est aujourd’hui relever l’Etat et le citoyen, la France et la République; c’est marier la justice social et la nation.’ This representation was lent credibility by the support Chevènement received from Gaullist followers of Séguin and Pasqua. Indeed, at elite level since the late 1990s national republicanism had developed a substantial network of structures and personnel which one might almost describe as a political sub-culture. The assumption that the explicitly republican frame of reference created common ground led to the emergence of a number of think-tanks seeking to group intellectuals and others to defend French sovereignty and identifying this with defence of the Republic. Hence the existence of a network of associations with titles such as SOS République, Debout la République, Dynamique Républicaine, Generation République, RF, Initiative Républicaine and others alongside the older established République Moderne. Other groups without the direct reference to Republic in their name made the inspiration clear in the titles of their newsletters, in their mottos or in their founding declarations. The best known of these was the Fondation Marc-Bloch, later renamed Fondation du 2 Mars. Some of these associations were closer to the MDC, others closer to the RPF, but in several cases they explicitly defined themselves as providing a link between the two groupings. This current of thought had attracted a number of prominent intellectuals and other activists, such as Régis Debray, Max Gallo, Claude Nicolet, Pierre-André Taguieff, Paul-Marie Couteaux, Emmanuel Todd, JeanClaude Guillebaud, Paul Thibaud, Jean-François Kahn and Philippe Cohen, several of whom lent their names to Chevènement’s presidential campaign. Yet, despite all this, it was not Chevènement who went through to the second round but Le Pen. Having shown close to 11 per cent in opinion polls during the pre-campaign in January and February, Chevènement only collected 5.3 per cent in the first round. It is highly unlikely that this was because Le Pen’s and his party’s position had evolved from revisionism in the 1990s to outright rejectionism by the time of the election, and was therefore more appealing to Eurosceptics than Chevènement’s revisionism. It was surely because the EU remained a minor issue in the campaign and Le Pen made a more

French euroscepticism and the politics of indifference

53

appealing vehicle for all-purpose protest than the respectable Chevènement (on the elections, see Drake, 2004; Fieschi, 2002; Frank, 2002). Admittedly, in a CSA poll carried out on 27–8 February, two months before the election, 20 per cent of respondents had endorsed the view that the EU should have a very important part in the campaign and a further 46 per cent thought it should be quite important (30 per cent disagreed, RPF and FN/MNR voters showing the lowest commitment to campaigning on EU issues). Obviously most respondents were at least aware that it was a significant matter. However, as the time drew nearer, it was evident that public opinion did not see the EU as a key issue in comparison with a range of domestic concerns. A CSA poll on 6–7 February had shown the EU ranking tenth out of 14 among priority themes, with 8 per cent of respondents citing it. Two months later, in a Sofres poll on 10–11 April, in which respondents were allowed to name several choices, it ranked 14th out of 17 themes, with 13 per cent of respondents citing it. Finally, in a CSA exit poll on 21 April, allowed three choices as to the issues which had counted most for them in the election, it was cited by only 9 per cent of respondents. In short, the EU continued to have low salience for voters. The EU had a negligible place in the parliamentary election campaign which followed the presidential election, and after that time, notwithstanding the convention on the future of Europe with Giscard d’Estaing presiding over its deliberations, or the wrangles with Brussels over economic policy, the opening phase of Jacques Chirac’s new presidential term, supported by an apparently solid centre-right majority, did not raise the EU as an issue of serious political division within France. Whether the adoption of the EU’s draft Constitution or the subsequent national debates over ratification will stir real public controversy remains to be seen, but on balance it seems unlikely to trigger a major political upheaval.

Conclusion Although Euroscepticism is by no means a mirage in France, the reality is elusive. Clearly the issue of European integration has been more contentious since the early 1990s, and that is likely to continue, at least intermittently, for so long as the EU is an ongoing process of construction. Still, despite the increasing influence of the EU on national governance, European issues continue to have less salience than many domestic issues and are often filtered through the lens of domestic concerns. The proportion of the population who would prefer that the EU had never happened, or that France had not been part of it, is relatively small. The existence of a much larger pool of people whose unenthusiastic attitudes lie across the spectrum between passive acquiescence and latent resistance may or may not be politically significant. There is some demand for representation of Eurosceptical opinions, but interest is episodic and, as Jocelyn Evans (2000) has argued, the ideological divergences within that demand appear to weigh against the likelihood of long-term partisan realignment around the EU issue. Euroscepticism was expressed in the Maastricht referendum and in EP elections, but it has not had a major influence on French presidential or parliamentary elections. It has been accommodated in the multiparty system without seriously disrupting it (Evans, 2001). At the same time, the divisions between and within Eurosceptical groupings limit

French relations with the European Union

54

their effectiveness: the recriminations between the Pasqua and de Villiers camps soon after the formation of the RPF illustrated the problem. Although circumstances can always change, it is difficult to foresee a situation in which rejectionism would gain a wider appeal. On the other hand, as the cases of Britain, Denmark and other countries illustrate, it is not impossible for the weight of Eurosceptical opinion to function as a real constraint on government policy and, potentially, on the operation of the EU itself; so revisionists do have something to play for.

Notes 1 Readers are referred to Table 1.1 (see p. 7) for the results of the 2004 elections to the European Parliament. 2 The loose correspondence between the left-right scale and party-political alignments is based on respondents’ statements as to their most recent, or their intended, voting behaviour in elections in surveys where the question was asked and the information retrievable (EB 33, 38, 41.1, 53, 54.1). The left-right selfplacement throws up some interesting cases, such as Front National voters who place themselves close to the centre. 3‘…the certainty that to eternalise what de Gaulle undertook in 1940, the Fifth Republic had to find its way to social justice’. ‘To be inspired by Gaullism is to emphasise state and citizen, France and the Republic; it is the marriage of social justice and the nation.’

4 Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond The troubled evolution of the French right Nick Startin Introduction The question of European integration has always been a difficult and complex one for the political parties of the mainstream French right to address. Since the end of the Second World War and the development of closer European cooperation, the parties of the right have consistently failed to achieve a consensus on Europe. The Christian Democrat roots of the centre-right Mouvement Républicain Populaire (MRP), essentially moderate, internationalist and pro-European, have consistently clashed with the ‘France First’, ‘Europe des Patries’ rhetoric of the Gaullist movement. While the politics of the Fourth Republic revolved to a large extent around the federalist rhetoric of the Christian Democrat Robert Schuman, the balance of power had shifted dramatically towards de Gaulle with the founding of the Fifth Republic. In the post-Gaullian period, divisions over Europe have escalated between the two modern-day strands of the mainstream right, the Christian Democrat Union pour la Démocratie Française (UDF) and the neo-Gaullist Rassemblement pour la République (RPR). While the UDF has demonstrated an element of consistency in its broadly pro-integrationalist stance, the RPR has repeatedly equivocated, unsure whether to remain loyal to the Gaullist tradition or to redefine its position in reaction to the issues of sovereignty raised by the Single European Act (SEA) and the Maastricht and Amsterdam treaties. Such occasions have caused flash points within the RPR, where Europe has threatened to become a realigning issue. The periods immediately following the 1992 Maastricht referendum and the 1999 European elections threatened to pull apart the mainstream right on a permanent basis. However, on both occasions the prospect of a permanent realignment on the French right with a new movement based around the souverainiste dimension remained short lived. Jacques Chirac’s victory at the 2002 presidential elections and the resounding endorsement of the newly formed Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle (UMP) at the subsequent legislative contest, might appear to indicate that the Gaullist movement has, finally, buried its equivocal stance towards Europe: proof of the long-awaited victory of the rénovateurs within the movement. However, to portray the emergence of the UMP as an end to Gaullist division over Europe is premature, as it remains a potential source of conflict capable of resurfacing at some future stage.1 Why then has Europe continued to cause division and stir up passions within the Gaullist movement? The answer to this question is inextricably linked to the Gaullist historical legacy. The three principal tenets of Gaullism, the independence of France, the authority of the State and the unity of the French (see Knapp, 1994) all raise fundamental

French relations with the European Union

56

questions about France’s sovereignty and her role in Europe. The Gaullist movement’s ability or inability to react to EU wide developments in an increasingly globalised world has become fundamental to its future direction. More specifically, attitudes towards the EU are at the heart of the debate between modernisers and traditionalists as to the future role of Gaullism in the twenty-first century. Jacques Chirac’s conversion to the proEuropean cause has been central to this debate. His progression from outright opposition towards the EU, as demonstrated by the 1979 European election campaign, to leading pro-European statesman is indicative of how Europe has evolved as an issue for the mainstream right. Chirac’s volte-face over Europe was undoubtedly fuelled by his presidential ambitions, and it ensured that the RPR and now the UMP have increasingly adopted a pro-European stance at elite level and in party discourse post-Maastricht. However, this pro-EU conversion has not entirely been in line with public opinion in France. As elsewhere in Europe, a steady increase in opposition towards the EU manifested itself in the opinion polls throughout the decade of the 1990s (although Flood, we saw, questioned the depth of this opposition). Whilst France was significantly below the average of EU countries that considered membership of the Union ‘a bad thing’ in 1988, almost a decade later opposition to the EU had moved above this average (see Figure 4.1). Furthermore, since Maastricht there has been an increase in the overall percentage of votes cast for parties adopting Eurosceptic positions. This has been particularly the case amongst parties of the right.2 While these developments do not allow any concrete conclusions to be drawn regarding the salience of Europe as an issue per se, such data nevertheless point to the possibility of a realignment of existing patterns of electoral support. Such a development, however, depends largely on the attitudes, beliefs and conduct of the key political elites in question. As David Hanley (1999, p. 70) points out: ‘what determines the capacity of parties to adapt, absorb challenges or ultimately fail is the quality of the elites’. This seems particularly pertinent with regard to Europe and the French right; however, with one or two exceptions (Alexandre and Jardin, 1996), little research has been conducted of elite attitudes in this area. Therefore, this chapter sets out to examine the nature and the extent of the divisions that exist over

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

57

Figure 4.1 Is EC/EU membership a ‘bad thing’? (Source: Eurobarometer 23–57). Europe at elite level within and between the various parties of the mainstream right.3 It then explores the potential for Europe as an issue to contribute to a realignment of the French party system. Evidence is primarily drawn from a survey of RPR, UDF and DL National Assembly députés conducted prior to the 2002 presidential elections. Based on this, the chapter examines the reasons why, despite its ability to divide the mainstream right and to stir up passions within the electorate, no durable realignment has materialised. Here the coverage includes the key role played by the Front National (FN). Finally, in the light of the UMP merger, the conclusion considers whether the French right as a whole has shaken off its Eurosceptic shackles and laid to rest the divisions caused by its Gaullist past, finally adopting a consistent pro-European stance. By way of background, the coverage begins with a brief synopsis of the two key moments during the 1990s when Europe threatened to divide the mainstream right, and in particular the Gaullist movement, on a permanent basis.

The Maastricht referendum in France The 1980s represented a period of rapid progress in terms of European integration, with significant developments made towards the goals of economic union and potential political union. France was a major driving force behind these events, and the roles of

French relations with the European Union

58

François Mitterrand and Jacques Delors were key factors in the overall process. By the end of the decade, the ‘Europeanisation of French politics’ had become a commonly used phrase (Hall et al., 1990, pp. 1–2). This essentially elite driven optimism did not fully reflect, however, the feeling of French opinion. It was the debate surrounding the Maastricht referendum which was to bring the issue of Europe to a head and to demonstrate fully the gulf between France’s political elites and large swathes of the electorate. In spite of the support of the leaderships of the three main parties (the PS, the UDF and the RPR), which included past, present and future French presidents, Giscard d’Estaing, Mitterrand and Chirac, the referendum was only carried by a narrow margin. The 51.05 per cent of votes cast in favour of Maastricht, combined with the high abstention rate of 30.30 per cent, was a far from convincing endorsement of the treaty. In essence the Maastricht referendum ensured that Europe was to move from the status of a primarily elite-driven foreign policy question to that of a significant domestic political issue within its own right. The referendum was to prove particularly damaging for the French mainstream right, driving a wedge between the UDF and the RPR as well as splitting the Gaullist movement into two opposing factions. A bitter counter-campaign ensued with two RPR heavyweights Philippe Séguin and Charles Pasqua running a successful anti-federal, pro-sovereignty campaign. The fact that more than two-thirds of traditional Gaullist RPR voters rejected the treaty only served to underline the gulf between the party leadership and a substantial majority of its rankandfile. Division within the UDF was also evident, despite the party’s proEuropean credentials, with 59 per cent opposition to the treaty. The 93 per cent rejection of Maastricht by Front National (FN) voters further exacerbated the problems for the RPR and the UDF. Le Pen was not only able to present the far right as a united movement but also able to demonstrate a clear policy alternative to the mainstream parties. Furthermore, the formation of the Combat pour les Valeurs movement placed further strain on the two mainstream parties of the right, as Philippe de Villiers cleverly courted Eurosceptic dissenters who did not share Le Pen’s more xenophobic agenda.4 In terms of public opinion, the Maastricht referendum put Europe under the spotlight in France. Despite the increase in Euroscepticism amongst the French public post-Maastricht, Europe as an issue did not resurface in any real damaging sense at elite level for the right in France until the 1999 European elections, although as the decade progressed certain warning signs became apparent. At the 1994 European elections the UDF and RPR presented a joint list and remained essentially united over the central tenets of their European policy, obtaining 28.87 per cent of the vote. However, Philippe de Villiers’ L’Autre Europe list polled 12.33 per cent and this, combined with the FN’s 10.51 per cent share of the vote, sent out a clear signal to the mainstream right coalition, which the previous year had won a resounding victory at the legislative elections.5 By 1995, faced with this growing uncertainty of the French electorate regarding closer European integration, the issue of Europe was all but removed from discussion by Chirac and the leadership of the French right during the presidential campaign. Two years later, although the resounding defeat of the Juppé government at the 1997 legislative elections was not implicitly caused by Europe as an issue per se, there is no doubt that President Chirac’s decision to seek a fresh mandate almost a year ahead of schedule was influenced by Europe-related events.

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

59

The president and his advisers were concerned by the proximity of the legislative elections to the April 1998 qualification for the euro and the impending need to reduce France’s budget deficit to meet the requirements of the convergence criteria. It augured that the potentially damaging issue of Europe could be pushed to the forefront of the campaign at a delicate stage of negotiations for the government. Against this background, and faced with a batch of favourable opinion polls, the president announced that the election would take place in May of 1997. Chirac’s decision to seek an early mandate was a political miscalculation of the highest order. The number of UDF and RPR députés was almost halved, falling from 472 to 249. Two years on from the 1997 legislative elections the electoral fortunes of the mainstream right were to suffer another blow. In the year that Lionel Jospin’s government launched the euro, opposition to the EU was to once again to resurface within the Gaullist movement.

The French right and the 1999 European elections As elsewhere in Europe, the elections in France were characterised by a low turn out with only 46.7 per cent of the electorate voting, six points down on the 1994 election. For the French right the results were nothing short of disastrous as the various parties split and atomised to an extent unprecedented under the Fifth Republic (Evans, 1999, p. 19). The RPR and the UDF could not agree on the key policy areas in order to present a joint list. UDF leader François Bayrou clashed with President Chirac over his interference in the right’s European strategy, and the RPR’s position was further weakened by Philippe Séguin’s resignation from the party two months prior to the election in April. Séguin had been chosen to lead the RPR’s European election campaign, but objected to the interference of Chirac’s minions within the party (Evans, 1999, p. 19). These divisions and the overall failure of the party to define a European policy which was acceptable to much of its rank-and-file helped to contribute to the emer-gence of Charles Pasqua’s newly formed Rassemblement pour la France (RPF), a Eurosceptic, rival Gaullist movement which presented a joint list with Philippe de Villiers’s revamped Mouvement pour la France (MPF). This new alliance declared itself determined to uphold the Gaullist legacy and to oppose further developments towards closer European integration. The core of their policy outlook was an impassioned critique of the EU in its present guise and an attempt to reassert a more intergovernmental vision of the EU’s institutional future. Their vision of a Europe des Nations stressed the need for immediate measures to prevent the abolition of the franc scheduled for 2002 and to replace it with a more flexible common currency (de Villiers and Berthu, 1999, p. 45). The Pasqua/ de Villiers alliance proved a popular one with an electorate that had become increasingly edgy since the 1997 Amsterdam Treaty about the prospect of closer European integration and of the imminent introduction of the euro. Despite these developments it was still something of a shock when the results of the election indicated that the RPF list had outscored the RPR, obtaining 13 seats compared to the RPR’s 12, with the latter’s percentage of votes cast down to a miserly 12.82 per cent (see Table 4.1). The situation was doubly humiliating for the RPR as it had presented a joint list with DL a year after the latter had broken away from its UDF shackles, and the result led to

French relations with the European Union

60

the resignation of the RPR party chairman Nicolas Sarkozy. Disappointment was not just confined within the ranks of the RPR. The UDF, traditionally the most pro-European of French

Table 4.1 The results of the 1999 European elections in France Party name/list

Percentage of vote

Seats

Lutte Ouvrière/Ligue Communiste Révolutionnaire

5.18

5

Parti Communiste Français (PCF)—Bouge l’Europe

6.78

6

Les Verts

9.72

9

21.95

22

9.28

9

Rassemblement pour la République (RPR/DL)

12.82

12

Rassemblement pour la France (RPF)

13.05

13

Chasse, Pêche, Nature et Traditions (CPNT)

6.77

6

Front National (FN)

5.69

5

Mouvement National (MN)

3.28

0

Others

5.48

0

Turnout

46.70

Parti Socialiste (PS)—Mouvement des Citoyens Union pour la Démocratie Française (UDF)

Source: European Parliament web-site <www2.europarl.eu.int/election/newep/en/fr>. Key (Lutte Ouvrière/Workers Struggle), (PCF/Communist Party), (Les Verts/Greens), (PS/Socialist Party), (UDF/Centre-right Christian Democrats), (RPR/DL/Gaullist Party/Liberal Democracy list), (RPF/Newly formed Eurosceptic Gaullist Party), (CPNT/Hunting, Fishing, Nature and Tradition Party), (FN/French National Front), (MN/rival National Front Mouvement).

parties, polled less than 10 per cent, capturing only nine seats, its worst performance in any of the European elections since 1979. Evidence of an increase in Euroscepticism among voters of the right was not just confined to the success of the de Villiers/Pasqua list and the failures of the RPR and the UDF. There was also the electoral breakthrough of Chasse Pêche Nature et Traditions (CPNT), a predominantly rural-based, anti-EUinspired movement, determined to uphold France’s traditions and fight the forces of impending globalisation. They secured six seats based around a manifesto critical of the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) and of the euro. In areas such as Aquitaine and Poitou Charente in the south-west of France, CPNT polled over 10 per cent, a substantial score for a party that had previously been little more than a rural pressure group. The breakthrough of the RPF was in many ways the culmination of the divisions that had existed within the Gaullist movement since the Maastricht referendum. Europe as an issue had been simmering beneath the surface during this period. Nevertheless, despite the result of the 1999 European election, the prospect of permanent realignment on the

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

61

French right with a new movement based around the souverainiste dimension remained short lived. The RPF faded away as a party post-1999, and was not able to make any significant breakthrough at the 2002 legislative elections following Charles Pasqua’s failure to secure the 500 representative signatures required to stand for presidential office.6

French right elite attitudes towards the EU Despite the RPF’s failure to break through into the mainstream of French electoral politics, it is apparent that Europe remains a potential source of division for the parties of the mainstream right in France. Drawing on evidence from an attitudinal survey of RPR, UDF and DL French National Assembly Members,7 conducted prior to the 2002 presidential and legislative elections, we analyse below the nature and the extent of the divisions that exist within and between the elites of the three major parties. As the survey was conducted immediately prior to the formation of the UMP, it sheds some interesting light on the divisions that exist between the elites of the two parties that constitute this recent merger. The survey provides a full picture of elite attitudes towards Europe in a number of key areas. The first pair of questions explored the attitudes of French National Assembly members to the concept of European integration in its broadest sense and was followed up with a question concerning the overall vision of Europe favoured by the respondent. There was more or less complete cross-party unanimity concerning attitudes towards Europe in their most general sense with 97 per cent of respondents ‘generally in favour of closer cooperation’. However, the answers to the question concerning the overall direction that the EU should take revealed some very significant party differences (see Figure 4.2). Nearly three-quarters of Gaullist respondents declared themselves in favour of a ‘Europe of Nations’, whereas only 12 per cent of UDF respondents favoured this option. Not one member of the RPR sample declared themselves in favour of a ‘Federal Europe’, which was in great contrast to the 62 per cent of UDF députés in support of the federal vision. Although this massive divergence of opinion between the two parties’ elites largely reflects their respective historical legacies, it nevertheless remains a major source of division within the mainstream right. Given the way that the RPR attempted to modernise and to adopt a more integrationalist approach from the mid-1980s onwards, the strong association between Gaullist députés and a preference for a ‘Europe of Nations’ is quite striking. It indicates that the historical tie with de Gaulle’s EU vision remains central to the party’s outlook. Further confirmation of this is the zero support for a ‘Federal Europe’ among Gaullist députés. DL was more divided than both the RPR and the UDF on this question, with almost half supporting a ‘Confederal Europe’, 31 per cent favouring a ‘Europe of Nations’ and 23 per cent a ‘Federal Europe’.

French relations with the European Union

62

Figure 4.2 To which vision of Europe do you adhere? Attitudes towards Maastricht The next pair of questions centred around attitudes towards European integration as represented by the Maastricht Treaty, a relevant line of questioning as the Treaty is very much associated with both the evolution of European integration and with party-based Euroscepticism over the last decade. Exploring attitudes towards Maastricht ten years on from the Treaty would undoubtedly unearth some interesting findings about elite attitudes towards Europe. In total 80 per cent of National Assembly members claimed that they voted for Maastricht, with 18 per cent indicating that they voted against. Compared to just over two thirds of RPR députés, 93 per cent of DL and 90 per cent of UDF respondents claimed they voted in favour of Maastricht. The second question tested attitudinal feelings towards the Treaty ten years after the event. The figures correlated closely to the data concerning the députés’ voting patterns at the referendum. DL’s almost unanimous endorsement of Maastricht reflects the party’s strong attachment to the neo-liberal economic message of the Treaty and puts it somewhat at odds with its dominant partner within the UMP. The 28 per cent ‘no’ vote among RPR députés for both questions is evidence that an anti-Maastricht rump still exists within the ranks of the Gaullist parliamentary elites which remains opposed to what the Treaty represents even ten years after the event. Division over Maastricht remains an issue amongst former RPR elites. Attitudes towards national sovereignty

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

63

As elsewhere, French opposition towards Europe has tended to focus primarily on the central issue of national sovereignty. As an issue Europe has caused most division on the right when clearly identifiable reductions in France’s overall sovereignty have been evident. A question related to national sovereignty was designed to explore the députés’ strength of feeling and attachment to this emotive concept. In total 38 per cent of respondents agreed with the statement that ‘closer European integration is a risk to French sovereignty’, with nearly half in disagreement and 13 per cent, undecided. Cross-tabulated by party, 72 per cent of UDF and 71 per cent of DL députés did not consider that EU integration was a threat to French sovereignty, which was in direct contrast to the 19 per cent of RPR respondents sharing this view. Significantly, over half of the Gaullists agreed with the statement and over a quarter were undecided (see Figure 4.3). The RPR elites remain strongly attached to the notion of sovereignty. It remains a central component of the debate about the future of Gaullism in modern-day France and a potentially damaging source of tension within the recently formed UMP.

Figure 4.3 Percentage agreeing that the EU is a risk to French sovereignty (by party). Attitudes towards the euro There was 92 per cent cross-party support in favour of France’s participation in the single currency. This relatively minor level of opposition to the Euro was probably due in part to the timing of the survey, which was conducted two months after the introduction of the Euro notes and coins. It would appear that the debate surrounding the Euro in France is largely done and dusted and no longer capable of causing the division among Gaullists that it produced prior to its introduction, and in particular at the time of the 1999 European elections.

French relations with the European Union

64

A second question was designed to shed light on the way in which the three parties perceive the Euro within a wider political context. Faced with the question ‘Do you believe that the Euro is more of an economic or a political question’, 78 per cent of RPR and 72 per cent of UDF parliamentarians declared that it was both economic and political. In contrast only 50 per cent of DL participants responded in the same manner, while 36 per cent highlighted the Euro as primarily an economic question, emphasising the party’s strong attachment to neo-liberal economics as a core principle. The UDF placed greater emphasis on the political dimension of the Euro, reflecting its commitment to a ‘Federal Europe’. Attitudes towards EU enlargement As the prospect of the May 2004 enlargement incorporating Eastern and Central European countries grew ever closer,8 concerns regarding security, asylum and borders took on new prominence across the member states in both party and media discourse. The issue has replaced the Euro as the new battleground for Eurosceptics in their opposition towards Europe. Overall there was a clear consensus among the mainstream right députés that the former communist states need to be incorporated within the EU’s institutional structure. From across the three parties, 72 per cent of respondents agreed that ‘the entry of new states from Eastern Europe into the EU is desirable’; only 5 per cent disagreed. Despite this consensus it should be noted that a high percentage of 23 per cent remained undecided on the issue, reflecting the uncertainty surrounding the future enlargement of the Union. While 86 per cent of UDF and 72 per cent of RPR participants agreed that EU enlargement is desirable, the most striking feature of the data was that only 43 per cent of DL députés shared this view (see Figure 4.4). The same percentage of DL respondents remain undecided on the subject, which was significantly higher than in the other two parties. The 57 per cent of DL députés either undecided or opposed to enlargement illustrates the scepticism that prevailed within the party surrounding the future enlargement of the EU. These concerns relate primarily to the potential economic dilution that incorporating the Central and Eastern European states could engender.

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

65

Figure 4.4 Percentage agreeing that enlargement of the EU to Eastern Europe is desirable (by party). A summary of the findings The findings of the survey clearly demonstrate signs of the divisions that have historically permeated the French mainstream right over Europe. Although there is almost unanimous support both in favour of European cooperation in its broadest sense and for the Euro, a significant core of former RPR députés remain broadly Eurosceptic and are still attached to Gaullist notions of sovereignty. In stark contrast to the UDF, the entire Gaullist cohort rejected the concept of a ‘Federal Europe’, while over half identified the EU as a threat to French sovereignty and a third still harbour reservations about the Maastricht Treaty. Divisions were noticeable between the RPR and DL, which in key areas such as EU enlargement could prove to be damaging for the future unity of the UMP. There was ironically broader unity over a majority of issues between the UDF and DL, former coalition partners. Taken as a whole, the evidence from the survey indicated that the post-Maastricht divisions over Europe within and between the elites of the mainstream right are still very much evident and could potentially be a realigning issue.

Europe as a realigning issue for the French right Realignment signifies the process of change within a party system when new links between social and political structures become apparent and new cleavages alter the structure of the party system and patterns of electoral support. Dalton et al. (1989, p. 232) identify it as the change between two electoral eras, as parties and their electorates adjust their positions along a new cleavage dimension. Under a process of realignment a longterm decomposition of social cleavages would take place, with certain outdated cleavages

French relations with the European Union

66

being replaced by new issues and divisions. For such a realignment to occur a number of elite-level factors would be discernible. Differences within and between the relevant parties over the new cleavage or salient issue in question would be evident. From the discussion so far, and the findings of the survey, it is clear that sufficient divisions exist over the issue of Europe for such a development to occur. In addition, a belief among the existing elites that some sort of realignment is feasible would need to be identified. In order to establish whether this is the case, the second part of the survey measures elitelevel perceptions of the salience of the EU as an issue and of its potential to cause realignment. Elite perceptions of the salience of Europe as an issue The first question explored whether French mainstream right parliamentarians believe that ‘the issue of European integration has become more salient for the French electorate since Maastricht’ (see Figure 4.5). In total just over half of the respondents agreed with the statement,

Figure 4.5 Is the issue of EU integration more salient for the French electorate since Maastricht (all respondents, %)? while 26 per cent were undecided and 23 per cent disagreed. Those respondents who firmly believed that Europe has become more salient since Maastricht were all from the ranks of the UDF; 56 per cent of Gaullists agreed to some extent with the statement compared to 28 per cent of DL parliamentarians. From the findings of the data it would appear that Europe is not an important electoral issue for DL, perhaps boding well for the future unity of the UMP. Over one in four respondents remained undecided from each of the three parties, illustrating the uncertainty surrounding elite perceptions of the salience of the EU as an issue. The data provides clear evidence that a majority of députés feel that Europe has become a more salient issue post-Maastricht; however the lack of strong feeling on the subject and the high percentage of undecided respondents would seem to

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

67

indicate that it is not perceived by most parliamentarians as an issue with the potential to cause a realignment. Whereas only 5 per cent of députés felt that the euro had led to a general increase in Euroscepticism, 35 per cent of respondents agreed that ‘the issue of European integration and in particular the euro is going to be important during the presidential election campaign’. The RPR and UDF were particularly divided internally over the importance of the EU and the euro in electoral terms. Both parties demonstrated 38 per cent support for the statement, although it should be emphasised that none of the RPR cohort ‘strongly agreed’. The elites of both parties were uncertain about the role that the euro might play in the election, with almost a third of Gaullists and just over a quarter of UDF parliamentarians undecided on the issue. The DL was much more united. The 71 per cent rejection of the statement among DL députés reflects both the party’s solid support for the euro and a conviction that the issue no longer carries much relevance in electoral terms. Again this might serve to dilute divisions in this area amongst the Gaullist cohort of the UMP. Overall, the findings provide clear evidence that for a majority of députés Europe has become a more salient electoral issue post-Maastricht. Furthermore, they indicate a belief that for a third of respondents the EU and the euro would be a relatively important issue in the 2002 presidential election campaign. However, only a handful of respondents felt that the euro had led to a rise in Euroscepticism, and for each of the three questions few députés demonstrated strong views on the subject. These findings would appear to confirm that in terms of salience, although Europe has become more important postMaastricht at the level of public opinion, it is not perceived as a major policy concern for a majority of mainstream right elites. Elite perceptions of the potential for Europe to realign The next set of questions examined the elites’ beliefs that the EU carries the potential to realign patterns of party support on the right in France. First, a pair of questions relating Europe to the historical evolution of the French right were posed. To begin with the députés were asked to respond to the following statement: The historical differences over Europe between Christian Democrats and Gaullists has prevented the creation of a single party on the mainstream right in France’. As a whole the respondents were divided: 43 per cent agreed with the statement, 18 per cent remained undecided and 40 per cent were in disagreement; only a small minority of députés strongly agreed or disagreed with the statement thus indicating a lack of firm belief in this area. Forty-two per cent of Gaullists and 48 per cent of UDF parliamentarians agreed, and one in five Gaullists were undecided, again revealing the party’s historical uncertainty surrounding Europe. Fifty per cent of DL participants rejected the statement, illustrating that it regards Europe as less of a major stumbling block in preventing a single party of the right emerging. The party’s willingness to support the formation of the UMP can be interpreted as evidence of this. In order to shed more light on the historical importance of Europe to the mainstream right, the next question shifted the emphasis to the post-Maastricht period. Over twofifths of respondents agreed that ‘Europe is the most important question to have divided the mainstream right since Maastricht’. However, not one député from the three parties

French relations with the European Union

68

‘agreed strongly’ with the statement, indicating a reluctance to perceive Europe as a seriously damaging issue post-Maastricht. Exactly half of the respondents disagreed with the statement, demonstrating a clear division among the mainstream right parliamentary rump as a whole. Unsurprisingly, it is the RPR which accords the most significance to the divisive nature of the European question post-Maastricht. Half of the Gaullist respondents were in agreement to some extent with the statement, and almost one in five were undecided. The UDF responses also illustrate division over this subject, although not on the same scale as the Gaullist cohort. The data for DL placed less importance on the historical importance of Europe. The third and final questions under this heading were designed to address the capacity of the European question to contribute to realignment on the French right. First, the députés were asked to respond to the following statement: ‘Opposition to European integration was the main reason for the creation of the RPF at the time of the 1999 European elections’ (see Figures 4.6 and 4.7). Despite the inability of the RPF to endure as a dominant party within the French political system, Europe was considered by 65 per cent of mainstream right députés as the principal reason for its emergence. However, when faced with the follow-up statement that the ‘European question is perhaps capable of contributing to a realignment of the right in France’, the cohort were much more divided. Only 36 per cent agreed, while a significant 32 per cent remained ‘undecided’, with the same percentage being in disagreement. Of all the questions posed in the survey this produced the highest rate of indecision, illustrating the uncertainty of the parliamentarians vis-à-vis the salience of Europe and its impact on the party system just a few months prior to the presidential and legislative elections.

Figure 4.6 Was opposition to the EU the main reason for the creation of the RPF in 1999 (all respondents, %)?

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

69

Figure 4.7 Is the EU capable of contributing to a realignment of the right in France (all respondents, %)? A breakdown of the figures by party for these two questions illustrates some pertinent findings. For almost two-thirds of Gaullist députés, Europe was the major reason for the emergence of its sister party the RPF. However, when faced with the follow-up question about the potential of the EU to realign patterns of party support, the figures were much less unanimous. While 40 per cent agreed with the statement, not one respondent from Gaullist ranks did so strongly and over a third of Gaullists remained ‘undecided’. Similar to the RPR, almost two-thirds of UDF respondents agreed that ‘opposition to European integration was the main reason for the formation of the RPF’, compared to 44 per cent for the follow-up question concerning realignment. Unlike the RPR cohort where no députés ‘strongly agreed’ with the statement, 15 per cent of UDF respondents had firm beliefs on the latter question. The level of uncertainty surrounding the question was still significant, with 26 per cent undecided. The data findings for the DL cohort were noticeably different to the other two parties: 71 per cent of respondents agreed with the statement concerning the formation of the RPF but, unlike the RPR and UDF, a much smaller percentage of 7 per cent agreed strongly. For the follow-up question the DL députés illustrated less belief in the potential for Europe to cause realignment. Only 7 per cent agreed, with none doing so strongly—a considerably lower figure than the other two parties. However, a high percentage of 36 per cent DL respondents remained undecided on the issue. The data suggests that while the UDF députés share similar convictions to the RPR with regard to the emergence of the RPF, the two parties have somewhat differing views concerning the potential of the European question to realign patterns of party support. Although both parties demonstrate fairly similar support for the statement at around the 40 per cent mark or just above, there is a rump of UDF députés with a ‘strong’ belief that Europe could lead to a realignment of the French right. This reflects a prevailing attitude within certain sections of the party under current leader François Bayrou that the UDF should aim to forge a strong pro-European centre-right path in response to the Eurosceptic elements of the mainstream right and of the far right. Europe was one of the key reasons for the UDF’s reluctance to join Chirac’s Union pour la Majorité coalition at the 2002 legislative elections. Amongst the ranks of the RPR, on the other hand, there is a

French relations with the European Union

70

rump of primarily Eurosceptic députés who were attracted to the RPF message during the 1999 European election campaign but did not view Europe as the most pressing issue of the day, and did not want to threaten the break-up of the RPR. The landslide victory of the UMP coalition at the 2002 legislative elections and its subsequent formation as a party underlines this point. For the DL cohort, Europe holds little significance in terms of its electoral potential or its ability to act as a realigning issue. The party bears neither the historically divisive scars of the Gaullists over Europe nor is its endorsement of a political Europe such a central policy plank as it is within UDF ranks. DL’s commitment towards Europe is more pragmatic, which might turn out to be a positive influence and reduce division over Europe under the new UMP umbrella.

The realignment of the French right The findings of the elite survey as a whole certainly do not rule out the possibility of realignment over Europe. In reality, however, the motives for the formation of the UMP were to create a single party of the mainstream right which would ensure unity and rally around the president. While an essentially pro-European policy stance appears to be one of the core values of the new UMP, Europe as such was not a principal reason for its emergence. Why did the RPF fail to break through on a permanent basis following its strong performance at the 1999 European elections? The success of realignment depends not only on public perceptions of the issue in question and on elite level attitudinal beliefs but also upon a number of other factors such as the conduct and behaviour of central leadership figures. As Declair (1999, p. 30) argues, elite action or inaction is crucial to the formation of new parties or the merger of existing ones, and is often the ultimate determinant. Ultimately, it was the divisions between Charles Pasqua and Philippe de Villiers which resulted in the break up of the RPF after the 1999 European elections, as they became embroiled in a leadership struggle which damaged the party’s credibility. Pasqua and de Villiers’s attempt to forge unity around the sovereignty issue was destined to fail. Pasqua’s vision of a Gaullist, republican movement was very much at odds with de Villiers’s more classic brand of conservatism. The culmination of their fragile coalition resulted in de Villiers confessing doubts to the media about the financing of the RPF 1999 European election campaign and with Pasqua on trial for financial irregularities. Another factor which is crucial to the formation of new parties, or the merger of existing ones, centres around the response of competing existing parties: here the role of the FN is particularly relevant. One of the reasons for the durability of the FN, since its electoral breakthrough in the mid-1980s, has been what Declair (1999, p. 202) describes as the party’s ‘singular ability to adapt to the ever changing political landscape’. The party’s position on Europe is a pertinent example. In 1986 the entire cohort of FN députés abstained in the vote on the parliamentary ratification of the Single European Act, as the party appeared to tolerate the concept of the Single Market. From the early 1990s onwards, however, and in line with developments at the level of public opinion, JeanMarie Le Pen increasingly deployed his ‘France First’ rhetoric to denounce the ‘Brussels technocrats’ and ‘Euro-federalists’ who threaten France’s sovereignty and national identity. During the Maastricht referendum, Le Pen was able to demonstrate outright

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

71

opposition to the EU, and this enabled the party to demonstrate a clear policy alternative to the parties on the mainstream right. Post-Maastricht, the FN has continued to campaign vociferously against the EU, calling for a renegotiation of the Amsterdam treaty and for a referendum on the euro. The presence of the FN has been a major reason why prosovereignty parties such as the RPF have had difficulty in making a durable breakthrough in the party system. The RPF was able to profit from the electoral space left vacant by the divisions between the Le Pen and Mégret factions, but this proved short-lived.9 By the 2002 presidential elections, however, right-wing Eurosceptic voters were repositioning their support behind Le Pen, whose campaign called for a referendum on France’s withdrawal from the EU. With the battle to save the franc all but over, Le Pen’s brand of Euroscepticism has quickly moved on to the question of EU enlargement and the consequences that it poses for France’s borders, crime rates, security and level of unemployment. It is not mere chance that 21 of the 25 départements where the FN experienced its biggest increase of the vote in the 2002 presidential election were all areas that rejected Maastricht at the 1992 referendum.10 In reality the presence of the FN in the national political arena from the mid-1980s onwards has hindered the prospect of an elite-driven realignment of the mainstream right. Realignment at elite level in France has also been hampered by the institutional implications of the electoral setting. While the RPF was able to break through in the European elections under a proportional system, it was not able to build on its success in subsequent contests, such as the 2002 legislative elections. With the rules of the game stacked heavily against smaller and newer parties by the bipolar tendencies of the tworound system, the chances of elite-level realignment around the European issue are significantly reduced. It would seem that a combination of divisive elite conduct within the RPF, the presence of the FN as a competing political force, and the institutional implications of the electoral system have contributed to the failure of any durable realignment of the French party system over the issue of Europe. Although elite-level divisions over Europe exist and the issue remains pertinent at the level of public opinion, such factors have not been sufficient for this process to occur.

Conclusion Study of the evolution of the European question in the post-Maastricht period illustrates that it remains one of the few areas of division which continues to stir up passions among the elites of the mainstream right. The UDF has remained consistent in its support for European integration and has enhanced its pro-European credentials under the leadership of François Bayrou. His decision that the party should continue as a separate entity, and not be part of the UMP merger, was undoubtedly influenced by concern that the UDF’s European convictions would risk being compromised by a Gaullist movement historically divided over the issue. Such concerns are not without justification. As this study has highlighted, when Europe has taken on increased salience in relation to sovereigntydriven position issues, such as Maastricht and the euro, the pro-sovereignty wing of the RPR has threatened to pull apart the Gaullist movement on a permanent basis. Although the damage caused by these internal conflicts proved to be relatively short-lived, the events of 1992 and 1999 serve as reminders that the European cleavage runs through the

French relations with the European Union

72

heart of the Gaullist movement and is capable of reappearing in some other guise. In particular, the question of EU enlargement remains a thorny issue and has replaced the euro as the new battleground for Eurosceptics. With a 2002 Eurobarometer poll indicating that more French people are opposed to enlargement than in favour of it, and with the FN continuing to raise questions about the social, economic and political dangers of EU enlargement, Europe looks set to remain in the headlines as a political issue.11 Furthermore, as the Raffarin government tightens both its policy and its rhetoric on security it is quite feasible that the question of enlargement will reinflame Eurosceptic divisions within the ranks of the UMP. The findings of the elite survey demonstrate that divisions remain on this subject, both within and between the two main strands of the new party. Similarly, the debate surrounding the European Convention and the future EU constitution, particularly its ability to impact on France’s sovereignty, carries the potential to open up old wounds within the ranks of the UMP. Whereas the former French president Giscard d’Estaing’s involvement in the Convention’s proceedings has served to minimise party-based opposition within the UDF, it is by no means certain that such unity will prevail within the UMP. Furthermore, concerns within the UMP about the future prospect of a common foreign and security policy (CFSP) may also lead to division within the party. In response to the divided approach of the EU and its general lack of authority in the events leading up to the 2003 Iraq war, the formulation of coherent policy in this area seems to have become something of a personal priority for Jacques Chirac. However, it is far from certain that his parliamentarians, and in particular some of Chirac’s former RPR colleagues, share his convictions regarding the future development of the CFSP.12 In truth, the potential for division over EU-related issues in the coming years will depend largely on the conduct of the major political elites within the mainstream right. Just as personal and political wranglings contributed to the electoral demise of Charles Pasqua and Philippe de Villiers’s pro-sovereignty RPF movement, the conduct of senior elites may hold the key to the future unity of the UMP. Here the role of Jacques Chirac is particularly important as his personal conduct on the European stage and his policies and rhetoric towards the EU have the potential to be a unifying force. In the wake of Chirac’s defeat of Le Pen in the second round of the 2002 presidential elections and his opposition to the war in Iraq, the French president enjoyed something of a renaissance in terms of public popularity and within his own party.13 Post-Iraq, Chirac’s influence and personal standing within the UMP appeared to bear a passing resemblance to the authority that de Gaulle exerted over the movement he created. Like de Gaulle, Chirac has adopted something of a ‘France first’ strategy on the European stage. The manner of his recent opposition to the proposed reform of the Common Agricultural Policy, designed to ensure the financial transition of the next phase of EU enlargement, was reminiscent of his great mentor’s approach. Furthermore, Chirac’s vision of Europe remains Gaullian in the sense that he continues to view the Franco-German axis as the ‘motor of Europe’. His expression of solidarity over Iraq with Gerard Schroeder in January 2003 at the fortieth anniversary of the post-war treaty between France and Germany was a symbolic confirmation of the importance of this axis. Likewise, Chirac’s criticism in April of the same year of those candidate countries who supported the US line over Iraq underlines his commitment to the old European order.

Maastricht, Amsterdam and beyond

73

However, where Chirac’s approach to Europe has evolved compared to de Gaulle’s is that Chirac increasingly regards France’s destiny as linked to the advancement of European integration; hence his conduct may hold the key to the future unity of the UMP. Post-Iraq, Chirac continues to view Europe as a vital tool for both combating globalisation and advancing a coherent anti-American doctrine. He has cleverly deployed a pro-European stance to shore up his domestic support as the French public has become increasingly hostile to the economic and cultural consequences of globalisation, and increasingly anti-American in terms of world security. Put simply, for Chirac it is entirely compatible to be both pro-France and pro-Europe. If, as Chirac’s approach suggests, the lines of cleavage have changed and the French president continues to link France’s economic and political destiny to a positive approach on Europe, then unity is likely to prevail within the UMP in this area. The combination of the cultural threat of globalisation and traditional Gaullist anti-Americanism may prove more than adequate in appeasing the pro-sovereignty wing of the former RPR. If the UMP does remain largely unscathed by the issues of EU enlargement, the constitution and the future CFSP, then this will indeed be interpreted by some as the final victory of the rénovateurs within the Chirac coalition: a modern, mainstream party finally at ease with France’s role in Europe. Recent history, however, has shown that such an outcome is far from certain. Major steps towards closer European integration have a habit of dividing the mainstream right in France and of destabilising the party system. As the enlarged EU enters an uncertain phase it remains far from certain whether the Gaullist movement has finally come to terms with its past and laid to rest the Eurosceptic ghost that has haunted it since Maastricht.

Notes 1 The Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle (UMP) was initially formed as an electoral alliance by the RPR, Démocratie Libérale (DL) and a small fringe of the UDF prior to the 2002 presidential and legislative elections. The two parties merged in the autumn of 2002 and adopted the title Union pour un Mouvement Populaire, allowing the same acronym to be preserved. DL had previously been formed in 1998 under Alain Madelin’s leadership when it abandoned its Parti Radical title and broke away from the UDF umbrella. 2 This is a notable trend in recent French elections. For example, in the first round of the last three presidential elections the percentage of voters who backed candidates of the right who opted for Eurosceptic candidates rose from 28.30 per cent in 1988 to 33.36 per cent in 1995, and to 44.5 per cent in 2002 (Startin, 2002a, 2002b). 3 The term mainstream right is used to encompass the three major parties prior to the UMP merger: the RPR, the UDF and DL. For the purpose of this study, the smaller parties, commonly labelled in the literature as divers droite, are not incorporated. 4 Former UDF député Philippe de Villiers set up his Combat pour les Valeurs pro-sovereignty movement prior to the 1992 Maastricht referendum. The movement was relaunched as L’Autre Europe at the 1994 European elections with James Goldsmith as one if its candidates. It was later renamed the Mouvement pour la France (MPF) before its short-lived merger with Charles Pasqua’s Rassemblement pour la France (RPF) in 1999. 5 At the 1993 legislative elections the Union pour la France mainstream right alliance of the UDF and the RPR emerged victorious, capturing 449 of the 577 seats in the French National Assembly, the greatest margin of victory for the right since 1815. However, it should be noted that this massive margin of victory was undoubtedly as much due to the unpopularity

French relations with the European Union

74

of François Mitterrand, and the socialist government at the end of Mitterrand’s second term as president, as it was a full endorsement of the right. With Michel Rocard, Edith Cresson and Pierre Bérégovoy all having been prime minister within the space of two years the public had become sceptical of the PS’s credentials to govern France. 6 In an attempt to keep the souverainiste flame alive the Mouvement Républicain et Citoyen (MRC) was formed after the 2002 legislative elections from the ashes of the RPF and JeanPierre Chevènement’s republican left Mouvement des Citoyens. This new formation declined to contest the 2004 European Parliament elections. 7 The survey was conducted in April and May 2002 while the right was in opposition in the National Assembly. The questionnaire deployed a mixed format of questioning in order not to encourage a similar set of responses. The final response rate of 76 represented 29.6 per cent of the total sample of mainstream right députés, an encouraging sample from which to analyse the findings. The data was analysed using SPSS for Windows. Overall the level of non-responses to individual questions was very low and so these were not included in the analysis of the overall findings. All percentages have been rounded to the nearest point. 8 The 2004 phase of enlargement was the biggest in scope in the history of the EU. The ten candidate countries who joined were Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Poland, the Slovak Republic and Slovenia. Both Bulgaria and Romania hope to join in 2007. 9 For the French far right the 1999 election results were also a disaster. In the six months prior to the election the FN tore itself apart with an internal power struggle between leader JeanMarie Le Pen and the former RPR politician and FN mayor of Vitrolles Bruno Mégret. The Euro-poll saw Le Pen’s official list gain merely 5.69 per cent of the vote and five seats compared to 11 at the 1994 contest. Mégret’s newly formed Mouvement National (MN) party failed to reach the 5 per cent electoral threshold, obtaining barely 3 per cent of the vote. 10 For more information on this see the ‘Grand dossier—Qui vote Pour Le Pen? La géographie électorale du FN’ in Le Monde 28–29 April 2002. 11 See Standard Eurobarometer 57, Spring 2002: <www.europa.eu.int/comm/ public_opinion/archives/eb57>. Of all the 15 EU members France was the most hostile to EU enlargement in this poll. Faced with the question ‘Are you for or against the enlargement of the EU?’, 40 per cent declared themselves in favour and 47 per cent against. 12 In the 2002 survey of mainstream right parliamentarians only 60 per cent of RPR députés agreed that an EU army would reinforce France’s defence. 13 According to one opinion poll there was 92 per cent support for his decision to use France’s veto and oppose the war in Iraq—see Profile: Jacques Chirac by Nick Frazer, BBC4 26/06/03. His popularity has subsided somewhat since the UMP’s heavy defeat to the left in the 2004 regional elections.

5 The Conseil d’État and Europe Adapting the French administrative state Michel Mangenot

Introduction In any discussion of the Europeanisation of the French administrative system, and especially of its grands corps, the Conseil d’État (Council of State)1 is of particular note. Unlike other corps such as the Prefectorate or Ponts et Chaussées, the Council was involved very early on in European matters, concerning in particular the transposition of the EU’s directives; the body is also at the very heart of French law-making in the administrative domain (Latour, 2002). In 1989, the Council ‘stunningly reversed itself’ (Gueldry, 2003, p. 83) following many years of hostility towards Community law. This chapter explores the reasons why the Council effectively ‘rallied’ to the European cause.2 In 1989 the Council of State finally acknowledged the precedence (or supremacy) of Community law over French law, with retrospective effect.3 This event has come to be known as the reversal of the Council’s previous case law in the form of the Nicolo ruling. The principle of the supremacy of Community law was established by the European Court of Justice (ECJ) in 1964, having been written into Article 189 of the Rome Treaty; moreover, it was provided for in Article 55 of the 1958 French Constitution. However, the principle had been ignored by the Council of State, which had in fact mounted a challenge to it with its landmark 1968 Semoules ruling. In this chapter we will analyse the 1989 reversal of the Council’s position as a case of an institution (belatedly) seeking to impose itself with regard to EU matters, vis-à-vis other administrative and legal bodies, both in France and in the EU. The consequences of the Nicolo ruling have indeed been of the utmost importance for the Council of State, since it has had the additional effect of moving the entire French administrative system in the direction of an overdue adjustment to Europe. In what follows we first review the history of relations between the Council of State and European law, before examining the precise circumstances and consequences of the Council’s 1989 ruling.

A question of law vs. treaty or an institutional tug of war? The 1989 Nicolo case is of significant interest since it effectively brought to a close a lengthy period during which French and European law had been at loggerheads. We can adopt two different perspectives on this conflict, and thus on the traditional position of the Council of State towards European integration, and specifically towards the European

French relations with the European Union

76

Court of Justice (ECJ). First, we can portray this conflict and its resolution as a question of doctrine regarding the relationship between, on the one hand, Community treaties, regulations and directives and, on the other, law, defined here in its narrowest sense as legislation passed by a national sovereign body, namely Parliament. The argument here is that the national judicial order, based on law, is superior to international treaty-based law, even where this predates the law. Just as many of France’s senior bureaucrats in the 1960s saw symbolic competition between le Plan—the French state’s instrument of economic planning—and the Community treaties, the Council of State’s case law meant that a competitive relationship was established between national law and international treaty. Based on this defence of the sovereignty of the national legal corpus, the Council of State resisted the encroachment of European law. Seen from this perspective, Nicolo amounted to the reversal of the Council’s case law regarding this question of the superiority of European primary (treaty) law over subsequent (posterior) national legislation. Until 1989, the argument was that European law, including the Nicolo case, was just another form of international law. Then, on 20 October 1989, the Council’s ruling Assembly4 accepted the findings of one of its young maître des requêtes,5 Patrick Frydman, which, for the first time, recommended acknowledging the superiority of the Treaty of Rome over subsequent national law. This narrow interpretation of the Nicolo case thus explains the Council of State’s Nicolo ruling as a simple adjustment to a new legal doctrine, so making a break with its previous ‘law-centric’ posture. Some Council of State members, such as Michel Gaudet, founder of the legal services of the EEC’s High Authority in 1953, and the Commission in 1958, had already, back in 1948, contested the ‘conviction in French public law that power belongs only to the people, and that no judge can control Parliament’ (interview, 1991, Comité pour l’histoire économique et financière de la France). This was thus a strictly doctrinal perspective, which emanated principally from the members of the Council of State themselves, and their vision of the treaty-law relationship. There is, however, a second, equally valid viewpoint which focuses less on the Council of State as the source of case law (i.e. a functional perspective) than as an institution per se (i.e. an institutional perspective). Indeed, it is easy to detect this competition between the Council of State and the ECJ when, in concluding his findings on the Nicolo case, the Council member in question (le commissaire du gouvernement6) reminded his audience of the ECJ’s 1964 ruling regarding the supremacy of European law, a ruling later confirmed in 1978 in the Simmenthal case. Patrick Frydman himself argued against an outright acceptance of the ECJ’s supremacy as such when addressing the Council assembly: We do not believe that you should follow the Court [the ECJ] in its praetorian case law of which, in truth, we are highly critical, to say the least. If you do, you would in fact be committing yourselves to the logic of supranationality. The Treaty of Rome does not even explicitly subscribe to this logic—despite political arguments to the contrary and were this logic to be adopted, it would certainly render this Treaty unconstitutional. (Frydman, Council of State Assembly, 20/10/89)

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

77

By this subtle change in its language—using terms such as ‘supranational’, or ‘praetorian’, redolent with connotation—the Council of State demonstrated that on constitutional grounds it intended to adapt its case law, but without aligning itself as such with the ECJ: a subtle point indeed. We recall that ‘praetorian’ connotes the personal military guard of an authoritarian head of state, or a military that intervenes by force in the political life of the nation. In the words of another member of the Council of State, Jean-Louis Dewost, the Council of State ‘made use of Article 55 of the French Constitution…in order to arrive at a similar, if not identical conclusion to the ECJ [regarding supremacy] but via a different set of arguments’ (Dewost, 1990). Seen from this admittedly convoluted perspective, then, we need to consider relations between the Council of State, the ECJ, and also the European Commission in terms of an institutional tug-of-war. By means of its earlier case law enshrining the superiority of national law, the Council of State had effectively refused to acknowledge the legal status of this newly established ECJ; the Council’s refusal to take advantage of the preliminary ruling procedure as provided for in Article 177 of the Treaty of Rome was further evidence of this attitude. In opposing the ECJ’s rightful claim to be a juridical authority (notwithstanding the fact that the ECJ was founded on the French model of administrative law (l’Huillier, 1953)), the Council of State was effectively evoking a difference in ideological perspective. Community law indeed rests on a certain number of assumptions, very different to those held (then) by the French legal community, about principles of private enterprise, market economics and free competition (Caillosse, 1996). This particular aspect of the Franco-European conflict was reflected in the membership of the ECJ and of the legal services of the other EC institutions. In other words, these differences were not simply a question of abstract legal doctrine with respect to the relative significance of national law vs. international treaty; this conflict instead revolved around the Council of State’s institutional response to the growth of a new source of legal and juridical norms. We should note, however, that the two perspectives that we have just examined are complementary rather than contradictory, and can be seen to converge when one looks closely at the context of the 1989 reversal, and at the internal transformations that the Council of State had by then undergone. In this context, Nicolo was seized upon by the Council of State as a way to bring to an end its isolation, both in the Community and within the French administrative system. This is a dimension to our subject which was barely touched upon in the numerous commentaries of the Nicolo ruling—which was in all probability the most amply discussed ruling of the Council of State—but which was portrayed by the French legal community simply as ‘the victory of the Community’s judicial order’ (Lachaume, 1990). The exception was Olivier Cayla who saw in this ‘[19] 89 revolution’ no less than a coup of the État de droit—the rule of law (Cayla, 1998). Journalists contributed to the drama, either dubbing the Nicolo ruling a ‘spectacular reversal’ which would restore the Council of State’s reputation,7 or as a ruling that shook the foundations of French law.8 But far from simply rallying to the cause of Community law, the Council of State was in fact creating a new role for itself: henceforth it would participate in the edification of the Community law that had been built up without its participation. More than this, the Council of State firmly intended to shape Community law and to be an actor in this regard. The consequences of this ruling, however, go beyond this expression of will;

French relations with the European Union

78

namely, in recognising the superiority of Community law, the Council of State was also acknowledging the Community as a separate legal entity. In accepting this particular definition of Europe as a constraint on national systems, the Council of State was attempting to update its standing, as a legal body, in the ranks of the French administrative system. This avowal was followed by action taken by the members of the Council of State to mobilise others around this new theme; namely, that the French administrative state must adapt to European integration, that this adaptation was long overdue, and that Europe was henceforth to be seen as a source of new expertise. To these two readings of the Nicolo ruling—the reactivation of a quarrel between the relative status of law vs. treaty, or an institutional tugof-war—we can add a third: that the Council of State, groaning under the weight of more and more European cases, was attempting, via Nicolo, to extricate itself from what had become an untenable position. It found it convenient to invoke constitutional reasons for its ruling, since these were grounds that enabled it to minimise the extent of the conflict between two institutions (Council of State and the ECJ) or two legal doctrines. One senior member of the Council of State summarised the argument that he used to present Nicolo to his colleagues: ‘You see, the case law of the Council of State has not been as discordant with the case law of the ECJ as is said to be the case. In reality, we had simply been treating the Community like any other instance of international public law.’ Adding that he had thus attempted to ‘diminish the divergence’ between the Council of State and the ECJ, our interviewee wished to remain anonymous. Thus the Nicolo ruling passed virtually unnoticed in Luxembourg, due to the way in which it was played down in Paris. Fernand Grévisse, conseiller d’État and ECJ judge from 1988 to 1994, told us in an interview (July, 1999) that: The ECJ was discrete, in that the reasons behind the Nicolo ruling were so close to the ECJ’s case law that there was no sense of a revolution, and we did not pick up on this change of attitude on the part of the Council of State, at least not as strongly as in France.

The generational hypothesis and its limitations So what were the exact circumstances of the Council of State’s 1989 reversal? The Council’s rulings (in Assembly) are taken by absolute majority, and the hypothesis of generational change is a first possibility. Indeed, the situation in this respect had altered considerably in a matter of years. In 1982 the Council of State was still reiterating its traditional position in a report on national and Community law. This report had been commissioned by a well-known member of the old guard, Jean-Jacques de Bresson, former legal adviser to the Quai d’Orsay, and to de Gaulle. At that time he met with nothing but hostility from the younger members of the Council of State; in de Bresson’s words: The young members were against my position, that was clear. Young commissioners had told me that it wouldn’t be long before they got to

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

79

challenge the Council’s case law. They completely rejected this case law, thought it was outdated.9 These young Council members accused de Bresson of ‘making the Council of State a pariah within Europe’. Their argument was that ‘the Cour de Cassation10 had taken the plunge as far back as 1975’11 (with its landmark Jacques Vabre ruling, which effectively recognised the supremacy of Community law). De Bresson left the Council of State in 1986, followed in 1988 by Bernard Tricot, who had also been a presidential adviser at the time of de Gaulle’s presidency. By 1985 Etienne Burin des Roziers had also departed from the Council of State. He had been an orthodox Gaullist and state councillor since returning in 1975 from Brussels, where he had been Paris’s permanent representative for three years. These successive departures amounted to a generational handover, freeing up the posts of responsibility that they had occupied in the Council of State. They were, as one member of the Council of State put it, the ‘anti-European big shots’ who were of the opinion that ‘since France had resisted pope and emperor, that they would certainly not deliver her up to some European outfit’.12 These young Council members were first and foremost concerned that the institution where they hoped to make their career was not marginalised. Some had in fact already decided to jump ship: in 1985, the entire class of 1981 had left the Council of State for the private sector after completing their four years’ compulsory service (Kessler, 1993, p. 124). For others, and in particular a group of determined ‘young Turks’ such as Bruno Genevois, a rising star in the world of French administrative law (Latour, 2002, p. 132),13 or Bernard Stirn, who had taught for a long time at ENA:14 it wasn’t so much that we were enthusiastically taking up the European cause, or calling to arms in the name of Europe, rather that we had worked out that Community law existed, and that there was no good reason for the Council of State to be on the outside. Some of the old guard who were still serving in the Council of State became afflicted by defeatism in such circumstances; this attitude was described to us by an anonymous supporter of the Council’s 1989 reversal as follows: Basically our case law is good, it’s very good. Obviously we’re the only ones now, it’s hard to justify our position, we’re not understood. So I suppose that yes, the time for change has come. But that doesn’t take anything away from us, we were right. We just can’t keep going it alone, others don’t agree. Nevertheless, there are limitations to this thesis of generational change. The man who effectively enabled the reversal to take place was none other than one of the Council’s great and good, its vice-president Marceau Long, appointed in 1987 by the then prime minister, Jacques Chirac (and who remained in post until 1995). Marceau’s commitment to reversing the Council’s position was fundamental:

French relations with the European Union

80

The arrival of Marceau Long was very, very decisive. He didn’t bring it up right away. But he liked to be influential and he did not want the Council to remain an outsider. Let’s say that he set out to change things, and he won. But it wasn’t a terribly hard-fought battle, because the time had come. Many of his opponents just gave in and said OK, we agree.15 Even in Long’s case, however, the ruling to convert the Council of State’s position regarding Community law was not based on fervent support for Europe. He did not describe himself as ‘pro-European’,16 and he was motivated by ambition. He perfectly illustrates the fact that in order to have a successful career at the Council of State its members have to leave it at one point for senior positions in the ‘active’ administrative state. His own career path had been littered with commendations and awards, from his high school days in Aix-en-Provence, to being ranked first at l’ENA in 1951 (in the same cohort as Valéry Giscard d’Estaing), to praise for his presidency of ORTF17 in 1975, in 1982 for his role as general secretary to the government, and in 1984 when he was appointed head of Air Inter and then Air France (when he was caught up in the ‘turbulence of liberalism’).18 Long was thus symbolic of the post-war generation of senior civil servants and bureaucrats who rose young to positions of leadership, and who incarnated the continuity of the state, particularly in 1981 when the left arrived in power for the first time in the Fifth Republic.19 It was when Long was at Air France that he experienced at first hand the impact of Community law. In spring 1986 the ECJ outlawed tarifffixing agreements between airline companies under the provisions of the Treaty of Rome. This ruling marked the beginning of a deregulatory policy in this sector supported by Britain and the European Commission, but which caused Marceau Long, ‘servant of the State’, considerable pain (Le Monde, 11/2/1987), since he found himself obliged to reduce fares and to cut a number of routes which had until then been seen as the strongholds of Air France. In November 1988, Long was commissioned by the then French prime minister, Michel Rocard (the prime minister is also nominally the president of the Council of State), to carry out a study of the relations between Community and national law, of the legal implications of the completion of the Single Market, and of the European social ‘space’ (espace); this was in preparation for the French presidency of the European Community in the second semester of 1989.20 The firm leadership exercised by Marceau Long at the Council of State, taking the institution towards a reversal of its case law, thus requires us to review our generational hypothesis regarding the reasons for the 1989 ruling. Indeed, we see that it was more a case of a fresh influx of leading Council of State members, some of whom played key roles in changing the institution’s line. Yves Galmot, for example, senior state councillor and appointed ECJ judge in 1982, returned to the Council of State in 1988. His career had been rather atypical, having worked for the private-sector Entreprise Minière et chimique (Mining and Chemical Company), and then in the public sector at Paris’s Pompidou Centre. His role at the ECJ in Luxembourg had effectively been as go-between for Conseil d’État with the ECJ, a task he took very seriously. Guy Groux, who had been director of the Commission’s Legal Services in 1973 had similarly returned to the Council of State in 1981 where he had tried to ‘spread the good word’ in favour of the Council’s reversal. Last but not least, in 1987 Michel Pinault returned to the Council of

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

81

State as its secretary-general from Brussels, where he had been first legal adviser to the French Permanent Representation. The impact of these homecomings and their reception was very different to, say, that of Maurice Legrange, state councillor and, from 1953, advocate-general and key player in the ECJ’s early days. He returned to the Council of State in Paris in 1964. On his departure from Luxembourg he had been hailed as having imparted to Community law ‘a little of the clarity and intellectual clout of French law’,21 only to be marginalised within the Council of State where, up until his retirement in 1970, he was nicknamed ‘Radio Luxembourg’ by his colleagues because of his propensity to ask, at every occasion, ‘What would the ECJ say?’22 It is particularly noteworthy in this context that shortly before returning to Paris, Lagrange had been instrumental in the ECJ’s adoption of the principle of the primacy of Community law (in the Costa v. ENEL case of 15/7/64).

The rewriting of legal powers Having rallied to the European cause, the Council of State was well placed to relaunch the general question of the role of law in French public policy-making. In November 1989 the Council of State organised a conference in Cannes, only days after its Nicolo ruling, which perfectly illustrated the body’s preoccupation with the status of administrative law. The conference was entitled ‘Law in Europe, European Law’, and was inaugurated by the vice-president of the Council of State in a speech (Conseil d’État, 1989, p. 7) thanking the ‘highest judicial authorities of the land’ for their attendance: I turn to you, our garde des Sceaux23 with thanks for accepting this invitation to outline for us the themes of the French government’s thinking on this important subject—the edification of law in Europe. I know that your address will be most stimulating. Your presence here today, along with that of the Presidents of the Cour de Cassation and the Cour des Comptes demonstrates how seriously the highest judicial authorities of the land take the business of constructing law for Europe. This is an important sign that it was our duty to give during this French presidency of the EC. (Conseil d’État, 1989, p. 7; author’s emphasis) Marceau Long thus appeared to be speaking on behalf of the French legal establishment, effectively using Europe to enhance the status of the Council of State. In his opening speech he also referred to the building of European law as a ‘project’ and then, significantly, as a ‘task’. Two specific themes, conveyed in the title of the conference itself, were linked: what was the state of the law in Europe, and what form should European law—the European legal order—take? In other words, at stake was the desire to renew the status of law in Europe, and to contribute to the edification of European (Community) law. Long’s speech indeed moved on to the first of these themes—the rediscovery of the role of law:

French relations with the European Union

82

Why should we hold such a conference? Why concern ourselves today with the shape that European law will take tomorrow? Does it signify our doubts or fears regarding the role of law? Or is it that we are belatedly acknowledging its significance? The reasons behind the organisation of this conference and, I imagine, the reasons why you are here, are quite different. It started with the observation that French society is rediscovering the role of law and those who make it. For Long, this rediscovery was occasioned by the EC’s 1992—Single Market—objective: In numerous meetings and colloquia held by professional organisations to examine their role in Europe after the single market, I have often heard people say: ‘Let’s solve the problems first and then worry about the legal implications’. I sincerely believe that such an instrumentalisation of law is extremely reductive and fails to acknowledge the true meaning and potential of a legal order. For some, law seems to mean simply a set of unwelcome rules, although those that protect or favour them are strangely enough more acceptable. Long then spoke at considerable length on this subject of the status of law, covering all its dimensions.24 Where the Council of State was concerned, Europe was just that—a question of law. Indeed, the Council of State’s 1992 public report on the subject of Europe began with this very affirmation of the fundamentally juridical character of the Community: Europe is a legal construct. Yes, it’s a political project. Yes, it’s a ‘single market’, but above all it’s a set of complex rules. Even as a market, the European Community is defined less by its common policies—of which there are few—than by the norms and procedures designed to guarantee the free movement of people and goods. The Community has been built on legal foundations, it has been created by and from law. (Conseil d’État, 1993, Rapport public 1992, p. 16) Thus Europe, for the Council of State, functioned here as an opportunity to enhance the status of law, and thus of itself, within the polity. This was in reaction to the managerialisation of public policy which in Long’s view had begun to erode the status of law as early as the 1960s: I believe that Europe has been a good influence in this respect since it has effectively helped to restore the balance between law and manage-ment. I think that since 1960–1965 we have given far too much prominence to management studies in comparison to the study of law. This is important because we can’t simply turn our back on the past, and say that it’s just outdated, old traditions. France was known back then as a nation of lawyers and all the stronger for it. Look at the role they played in the

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

83

Revolution, in the Estates-General, the Constituent [Assembly], it was wonderful. Then before long, although the study of law was strong under the Third Republic, a sort of decadence took hold; management principles became critical to decision-making, and the study of law was neglected, much too neglected. (Interview, July 1997) This managerialisation of public policy even had an impact on recruitment to the Council of State, which started to take in graduates of ENA who had no legal training or background. Similarly, graduates from business school degrees started outnumbering those from law school. During one colloquium organised by the Association pour une fondation nationale des études de droit (Association for a National Foundation of Law Studies), Guy Braibant, state councillor and then president of the Council of State’s research section, related the following anecdote: out of an entire cohort entering the Council of State, only one had a degree in law; but Braibant did not think it appropriate to bring this to public attention.25 Braibant also raised the following problem in alarmist tones: ‘We have always had non-lawyers in our midst. It’s a question of the balance. A non-lawyer, integrated into a body of lawyers will, if he [she] is good enough, become a lawyer. If there are only non-lawyers, that’s not possible’ (Association pour une fondation nationale des études de droit, 1991, p. 95). The Council of State tried to address this problem by insisting that their recruits had covered at least some legal background in their studies.

Influencing European law The Council of State’s 1992 public report can be read as a perfect illustration of its quest for a new role. Entitled ‘On Community Law’, the report provides an overview of how the French administrative system had adapted to the realities of Europe. The reader is struck by its positive tone regarding European matters, which not that long ago had been reduced to a narrow question of competences. We interpret this attitudinal shift as an attempt by the Council of State to turn its back on a past that had become embarrassing both in Europe and in France. Unsurprisingly, the report was very badly received by France’s community of law professors (Sabourin, 1993, p. 443). In the Introduction to the report we find a summary of the new role that the Council of State intended to play henceforth in European integration. The report’s authors first emphasise the novel character of Community law as: A law that is original in more than one way. It is more the work of diplomats and judges than of Parliaments. It is negotiated as if it were international law, but applied as if it were national law. It borrows its concepts as required from this or that national tradition with no particular preference for one or other of them. This is sui generis law which can no longer be considered remote or marginal. It represents an important and rapidly growing aspect of the French legal order. (Conseil d’État, 1993, p. 16)

French relations with the European Union

84

It is true that in the above extract we see a reference to the long-standing conflict between law, which emanates from Parliament, and treaty, the work of diplomats and judges. But the reference is abstract, and does not detract from the main message, which is that the Council of State henceforth intends to be an actor in making this Community law which ‘can no longer be looked upon sceptically or received passively, since it hardly “falls from the sky”: we have a stake in it, and are part of the process from start to finish’ (Conseil d’État, 1993, p. 16). The Council of State thus portrayed itself as the guardian of this law, but its words also implied an intent to shape and correct it: How thus, in the years to come, can we strengthen the relevance of a body of law that sometimes seems so prolific as to be confusing? How can we improve the readability of this law that is naturally prolific but often opaque? These are questions of relevance to every citizen in their daily life, and in order to head off negative reactions our objective is to make greater efforts to shape, clarify and acclimatise European law; to prepare it and ourselves more thoroughly. The 1988 report on the legal training of the Council of State’s recruits had taken a more measured tone on the question of Community law: It is not at all clear that French civil servants have sufficient familiarity with Community law. Indeed it would appear that as a subject, Community law is far from occupying the place that it should in civil servants’ academic background; nor as a specialist field of public administration does it feature as it should do in the preparation for different government ministries. (Conseil d’État, 1988)26 By 1992, therefore, it was no longer a question of simply contributing to the recognition of European law but of influencing it. As Marceau Long put it in an interview with le Figaro newspaper: ‘[W]e do not consider ourselves to be “threatened” by European law, particularly since by integrating this law into our own national systems we can bring an influence to bear’.27 This new ‘policy’ of the Council of State came about at a time when the ECJ itself had become somewhat indifferent to the position of the French. From 1988 onwards, following the appointment of a Danish president to the Court, the influence of French case law underwent a gradual decline. Fernand Grévisse was at this time a French judge at the ECJ and made the following observation of this period: For years, the Court took this conflict between Community and French case law very badly. But then presidents came and went, and were no longer from our culture; a Danish judge became president in 1988 and he had a Danish and British academic background, although he spoke good French. From that time the Court simply stopped looking over its shoulder to Paris, you know. The British profile got stronger because, and that’s the point, they finally got the hang of the treaties, and the Community case

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

85

law, even though at the outset it had all been alien to them… Furthermore, another legal body came into play, the House of Lords, in that it asked lots of questions of the Court, more, it goes without saying, than the Council of State. The Court couldn’t help but be flattered to have the House of Lords laying British law at its feet… There was real interest in the House of Lords at this time. This meant a drift away from the case law of the Council of State.28 It is thus something of a paradox that the influence of French law in Europe was diminishing at precisely the time when the Council of State in France was undergoing its reversal, and revival. The same Grévisse called for better communication between the Council of State and the ECJ: With regard to the ECJ I think that the attitude of the Council of State, of the French legal authorities and of some other countries, is bad, in the sense that once a position has been settled by the Court of Justice it is taken as if it were a divine ruling, which is certainly not the case. If the Court makes a bad ruling it should be much more common for national jurisdictions to stand up to the Court, to say ‘we disagree with your interpretation of Community law, for this or that reason’. Then, either the Court would confirm its ruling and try, in its ruling, to reply to the criticisms made of it; or it would come round, or alter its position. In other words, the ECJ is not superior to other courts, even in matters of Community law. It is not untouchable.29

Developing European expertise One effect of this new relationship to Community law, as established by the members of the Council of State, was to place these individuals at the heart of the process of producing European norms, thereby turning them into experts in the matter. This reputation became all the stronger as the 1992 Single Market deadline approached. Members of the Council of State were commissioned to write reports on the adaptation of the French administrative system to Community law from the perspective of the Single Market initiative. Thus in 1988, Councillor Jean-Pierre Puissochet, Conseiller d’État, was invited to examine the thorny question of the rights of EC nationals to take up posts in the French public sector and authorities. This particular task gave rise to a detailed report which became the basis of the law of 26 July 1991. In May 1989 it was the turn of Josseline de Clausade of the Council of State to look into the subject. He was asked jointly by the then Minister for European Affairs, Edith Cresson, and the Minister of Public Services and Administrative Reform (Ministre de la Fonction publique et des réformes administratives), Michel Durafour, to investigate ‘the adaptation of the French administrative system to Europe’.30 On 7 August 1991, following de Clausade’s report, Jean-Pierre Soisson, the new Public Services minister made an announcement in the Council of Ministers on the subject of ‘European integration and the French administrative system’. He listed a number of measures to be

French relations with the European Union

86

taken, including the opening up of posts in the French public services to EC nationals, the launch of a large-scale training programme entitled ‘2000’ (designed to retrain 2,000 administrators working at the interministerial level within three years), the designation of a post with responsibility for European affairs in every ministerial department, and an exchange programme for civil servants. Soisson’s directeur de cabinet (chief political adviser) was none other than JeanClaude Bonichot, member of the Council of State and newly returned from Luxembourg where he had replaced another Council of State member, Jacques Biancarelli, who had been appointed judge of the Court of First Instance at the demand of Yves Galmot. In 1992 Marceau Long himself was also asked, also by Michel Durafour, to study the possibility of creating a European Centre, which in 1994 became the Strasbourg Centre for European Studies (CEES). In this respect, Long, Council of State vice-president, exercised a decisive influence over the training of future French administrators: by protocol he was the most senior civil servant in France, and the statutory chair of the board of ENA where, after a false start in the 1970s, the teaching of European law took off for good in the 1990s. As a result of the Council of State’s growing expertise in European matters, its members began filling posts elsewhere in the administration -for example, in the Ministry for European Affairs. This trend had in fact already begun, but slowly, in 1984, when Marc Perrin de Brichanbaut of the Council of State became the directeur de cabinet of Roland Dumas. The pace then quickened: between 1990 and 1993 the Council of State’s Martine de Boisdeffre31 entered Elisabeth Guigou’s administration, followed by Dorothée Pinau in Alain Lamassoure’s cabinet from 1993 to 1995. Paris’s Permanent Representation in Brussels also emerged around this time as a new destination for Council of State members, and not just to the post of legal adviser, created in 1983. Thus Josseline de Clausade took up office from 1993 to 1997 as foreign affairs adviser. Other Council of State members were appointed to head the legal services of the French Foreign Office, the Quai d’Orsay. In 1979 this post had for the first time already gone to a Council of State member, Gilbert Guillaume. He, however, like his predecessor (a diplomat) had been a specialist in international law and had focused almost entirely on maritime law. The real change came in 1987 when Jean-Pierre Puissochet was appointed to the post. He had headed the legal services of the Council of Ministers in Brussels, had been legal director of the OECD, and from 1985 had been the director of the International Institute for Public Administration in Paris (which in 2002 was merged with l’ENA). Subsequently, other Council of State members took on this ‘diplomatic’ role: when JeanPierre Puissochet was appointed judge to the European Court of Justice in 1994, Marc Perrin de Brichanbaut replaced him at the Quai d’Orsay; he in turn was followed in 1998 by Ronny Abraham, author of a book on the relationship between international, Community and French law (Abraham, 1989). A further example of these transfers from the Council of State to key posts elsewhere in the administration comes from the SGCI (Secrétariat général du comité interministériel). This is the body in Paris that coordinates and channels France’s European policy within the government and between Paris and its representation in Brussels. Here, the post of legal adviser was finally conquered by Council of State members, first, and briefly, in 1990 and 1991 by Josseline de Clausade, then continuously from 1999. This post was created at the time of France’s (de Gaulle’s) ‘empty chair’

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

87

policy of 1965–6, and had been occupied for the last time by a Council of State member in 1981. Between 1965 and 1981, moreover, it had been filled by very junior members of the Council of State who did not go on to make their careers in the administration. Finally, we should mention the fact that the Council of State had by the 1990s also become a body to which European specialists were themselves transferred; the best examples here are that of the diplomat Sophie-Caroline de Margerie, who had been François Mitterrand’s adviser at the time of the Maastricht Treaty and who joined the Council of State in 1992; or Jean-Luc Sauron, who arrived in 1999, a judge (magistrat), former legal adviser to the SGCI and author of many books on Community law. The consequences of the Council of State’s adaptation to Europe, as seen above, thus had a domino effect on the status of legal affairs in other parts of the administrative system that were closely concerned with European matters, even those sectors of the state that had for a long time remained ‘untouched’ by Europe, such as the Finance Ministry. Thus in 1998 a section for legal affairs was created at the ministry at Bercy. Here too, the Council of State found unexpected allies amongst a new generation of ‘Europeans’. Thierry Bert, for example, on leaving former European Commission president Jacques Santer’s cabinet in 1997 (having already filled roles at the SGCI and the Elysée, and as Inspecteur des Finances)32 made a particularly significant intervention in this respect. In a speech made in 1997 to an ENA audience on the reform of the state’s economic functions, he found a way to put across his personal views. Having portrayed himself as one of those who for the previous ten years had been ‘pushing in the same direction’— that of European integration—he outlined what he saw were the six functions of the state. The first three were legal: the sovereign, negotiator state; the civilised or legal state, that creates and respects the law; and the regulatory state which transposes the law. Then came the controlling state, the reforming state and, in sixth place, the state that reduces uncertainties, via for example its planning function (ENA, 1997). This then was a vision in which the state’s legal functions featured most highly. In this, Bert’s views echoed those of a particularly ‘European’ fonctionnaire, Pascal Lamy. Lamy had been chef de cabinet to Jacques Delors, Commission president from 1985 to 1994, and was firm in his view that the French state needed further ‘regularisation’, and to improve ‘its capacity to obey the rule of law and to ensure that it is obeyed’. Nevertheless, Lamy’s understanding of such a revival of the rule of law differed significantly from that of the Council of State. According to Lamy, ‘viewed from Paris, the French state looks highly juridified (it invented administrative law, for example). But viewed from Brussels, and compared to other EU countries, France looks like a state for which law counts for very little; where opportunism plays a very big role, to the point where the concept of obeying the rule of law is not automatic (Lamy, 1993, p. 77). Lamy cites in his defence other EU countries where ‘the juridical and legal order is much stronger’ and which consider ‘the very fact that administrative law exists in France as the best of all proofs that the French state is incapable of obeying the same rule of law as everyone else’. In this, Lamy was also echoing similar criticisms made in France regarding the very existence of administrative law (Boulouis, 1988; Cohen-Tanugi, 1988; Dubois et al., 1993). These are criticisms that have since been taken up by some members of the ‘ordinary’ or judicial legal order, which opened itself earlier to the impact of European integration; in 1997, for example, the Professional Association of Magistrates

French relations with the European Union

88

(l’Association professionnelle des magistrats) called for a debate on ‘ridding France of its two legal orders, which make France such an oddball in the European judicial context’ (Le Monde, 16/5/97).

Conclusions In sum, while the Council of State’s ‘rally’ to the European cause may have had the appearance of a highly technical but discreet legal battle, our analysis suggests that this was an adjustment that the Council of State actively sought rather than passively suffered. By appropriating Europe more thoroughly than the other grands corps of the French administrative order, the Council of State safeguarded its own institutional status. Moreover, it was able to achieve this result with a minimum of disruption, merely creating within its structures a new unit for Community law in April 1998.33 The Council of State even saw itself endowed with additional powers, such as that conferred by the constitutional amendment of 25 June 1992. This reform created a new title (88–4) in the French Constitution relating to European matters, and conferred on the Council of State the right to determine which European proposals came under the domain, in France, of parliamentary law.34 This new procedure has meant that the Council of State can benefit from the sort of information to which it long had access with regard to national law.35 The Council of State is proud of this new role which ‘creates the possibility for the National Assembly or the Senate to take early and focused action on subjects of fundamental importance’ (Conseil d’État, 2001, p. 130). Now that European law has made its definitive entry into the activities of the Council of State’s conseiller du gouvernement where the drafting of government bills and regulations are concerned, a hybrid between French law and Community norms has effectively been created (Questiaux, 1997).36 We should note nonetheless that this new stance on the part of the Council of State has yet to have a positive impact on the transposition of Community directives into French law; here, in 2002, France was still the worst offender of all 15 EU member states. In 2000, this situation had even led the Jospin government to have recourse to an unprecedented procedure in French parliamentary history; namely, the adoption of a single law providing for the transposition of more than 50 directives at the same time. And in November 2002, the new minister for European Affairs, Noëlle Lenoir, herself a former member of the Council of State, launched an emergency action plan to improve transposition procedures which, since a prime ministerial circular under Jacques Chirac’s premiership in May 1986, are still coordinated by the SGCI and the General Secretariat of the government (although a circular of 9 November 1998 had also created the possibility for a ministry or the SGCI to ask for a Council of State ruling in these matters). The most significant impact of the Council of State’s aggressive reversal of its position regarding Europe has thus been on the distribution of power within the French administrative system, in favour of the Council of State, which has also claimed its place at the heart of the legal order of the European Union (Dulong, 2001). In 2001, Jean-Louis Dewost returned to the Council of State (as president of its Section sociale) and was replaced as director-general of the Commission’s legal services by another Frenchman,

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

89

Michel Petite, not himself a member of the Council of State but a product of the Brussels administrative machine. This subtle shift (from a post de facto occupied by Council of State members, to one open in practice to others) suggests that there are natural limits to the Council’s policy of presence and influence in Brussels, and, indeed, points to a certain loss of control over key posts. J.-L.Dewost had been transferred to this strategic position in 1987 from the Council of Ministers in Brussels, where he had been fulfilling a similar role. His transfer at that time had signalled the Council of State’s change of heart. It remains to be seen what the longterm impact will be of the Council of State’s post1989 attitude, and its consequences as explored above, on the shape of European law and, in particular on the adoption of the notion of public service à la française.

Notes 1 The Council of State. This is France’s highest administrative court, and legal adviser to the government. 2 This chapter is taken from my doctoral thesis (Mangenot, 2000). The thesis covers the entirety of relations between Europe and the higher echelons of the French adminstrative system (la haute administration française) since 1948. The first part of the thesis is shortly to be published (Mangenot, 2005). The Council of State is the poor relation of the social sciences: with the exception of historical studies (Wright, 1972), insider accounts (Stirn, 1991) or the commemorative pieces written for the institution’s bicentenary (Arnoult and Monnier, 1999), the only work of note since Marie-Christine Kessler’s pioneering study (1968) is Bruno Latour’s (2002) recent ethnography. In the existing literature, relations between the Council and the EU are simply evoked either in descriptive terms as the displacement of the site of final recourse (Latour, 2002, p. 269), or as a turf war (Arnoult and Monnier, 1999, p. 76). 3 First came recognition of the supremacy of primary law (deriving from the EU’s founding treaties (Nicolo, 20/10/89)), then of secondary law (Community regulations [Boisdet, 24/9/90]) and directives (Rothmans, 28/2/92). 4 L’Assemblée du contentieux: the litigation section of the Council of State, which hears cases and whose rulings are final. 5 Within the Council of State there is a hierarchy of members based on length of service, in ascending order: auditeur, maître des requêtes, Conseiller d’État. 6 Le Conseiller du gouvernement is a Council member responsible for formulating the legal solution in a given case, but who does not take part in the ruling itself. 7 In the article entitled ‘Un revirement spectaculaire’ (A Stunning Reversal) by Michel Kajman, Le Monde, 21/10/89. 8‘Transfert de souveraineté. Le droit français bafoué’ (Transfer of Sovereignty: French Law Flouted), L’Humanité, 26/10/89. 9 Interview with author, July 1999. 10 France’s highest court in its ‘ordinary’ or judicial (as opposed to administrative) legal system, whose main role is to overturn or confirm rulings of lower courts on points of law. 11 Interview with author, July 1999. 12 Interview with Gérard Olivier, May 1998. 13 In 1978, Genevois had already been of the view, with regard to Article 177 (of the Treaty of Rome) in the Cohn-Bendit case that the Council’s position since 1964, regarding the acte clair (which declared ‘EU legislation to be sufficiently clear so as to avoid a referral to the ECJ’: Gueldry, 2003, p. 83), ‘failed to show due deference to the Community judge’ (BuffetTchakaloff, 1985, p. 104). Genevois left the Council in 1986 to become general secretary of France’s highest constitutional court, the Constitutional Council.

French relations with the European Union

90

14 L’Ecole nationale d’administration: France’s elite training ground for senior civil servants— and politicians. 15 Interview with a member of the Council of State who supported the reversal but who wished to remain anonymous in order to conceal his concerted campaign of antagonism towards the Council’s former position. 16 ‘I have never felt like a natural pro-European, you know. Some people were.’ (Interview with Long, July 1997.) 17 In the 1950s and 1960s, radio and television broadcasting were state monopolies. In 1964, the body in question (RDF: Radiodiffusion française) was turned into the ORTF (Office de Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française), with a slightly more flexible status with respect to the Ministry for Information. 18 See Le Monde (11/2/87) and La Croix (11/2/1987). 19 Le Monde (11/2/87) wrote of Long that ‘it was however he who, along with other bureaucrats from the ancien régime, ensured that l’alternance occurred smoothly at the administrative level and in the machinery of the state, who avoided many a mistake. He considered himself politically neutral and thus perfectly illustrated the traditional image of the public servant, making himself available to whoever was in power, provided they had got there legally.’ 20 Letter from Prime Minister Michel Rocard to Marceau Long, vice-president of the Council of State, 21/11/1988. On 22 September 1988 a prime ministerial circular issued to government ministers regarding European policy had already emphasised that respect for Community law was a ‘constitutional requirement’ that was part and parcel of the rule of law. 21 Speech given by the ECJ president, 8/10/64, quoted in Fougère (1975, p. 896). 22 As recounted by Gérard Olivier, Council of State member from 1973 to 1982, where he was similarly excluded from European questions following his career at the Commission’s legal Service from 1955. 23 Minister for Justice. 24 ‘Let us not forget that our freedoms are founded in law, from the freedom of mobility, to the freedom of enterprise. The law underpins all forms of property. There is no real “market” without a minimum of principles regulating the behaviour of all actors and fixing the rules of the game, particularly concerning competition, mergers, social dumping and consumer protection. Nor let us forget that the law is not simply a hierarchy of norms established by the state -the constitution, law [parliamentary legislation], decrees—or the result of treaties concluded between states. The law is also a mass of regulations emanating from local government, public enterprises and independent administrative authorities. There are countless forms of contract and convention concluded between bodies and persons accountable to private or public law. Finally, the law asks of its judges and all those lawyers—notaries, company lawyers, legal advisers, legal experts, etc.—ever more decisions and rulings which are vital to the creation of law, and to resolving those problems which arise through the application of the rule of law including, on occasions, new law’ (Council of State, Comité du rayonnement français, 1989, p. 7). 25 ‘I asked to see the seven ENA graduates from the previous year who had come to the Council of State. I called them in and asked them where they had done their first degrees. Their reply? HEC, Polytechnique, ESSEC [all grandes écoles] etc. Then I said that I thought that one of them had a degree in law. Either they had simply forgotten to mention it, or they were ashamed of it, or they considered it so irrelevant that it wasn’t worth talking about’ (Association pour une fondation nationale des études de droit, 1991, p. 94). 26 The report then went on to alert the Council of State to the newest developments in Community law: ‘Community law is not a “foreign” law whose practice concerns a handful of specialist, isolated civil servants. This corpus of rules consists of provisions that derive both directly from the Treaty of Rome and from secondary law. It has penetrated a growing

The Conseil d'Etat and Europe

91

number of sectors which thus are no longer a question of national law alone, and it has become a constant and vital reference point for national administrative law. These developments are about to accelerate in the months and years to come with the implementation of the Single European Act, signed by the Member States on 17th February 1986 in Luxembourg and 26 February at The Hague. The Community’s institutions, especially the Commission, have already begun the considerable task of drafting the relevant provisions and France for its part, must be ready, and ready to participate.’ 27 ‘L’Europe du droit se construit. Entretien avec Marceau Long’, Le Figaro (21 May, 1992). 28 Interview with author, July 1999. 29 Interview with author, July 1999. 30 De Clausade’s report was subsequently published (de Clausade, 1991). 31 Martine de Boisdeffre subsequently became secretary-general of the Council of State, from 1995 to 2001, when the post was taken up by the instigator of the Nicolo ruling, Patrick Frydman. 32 The Inspection des Finances is one of the most prestigious bodies of the French administrative state. 33 Led by Jacques Biancarelli, state councillor since his return from Luxembourg in 1995 where he had been, from 1989, the first French judge at the new Court of First Instance, having beforehand been legal secretary at the ECJ under Yves Galmot. 34 Circular of 13 December 1999 on the application of Article 88–4 (Journal officiel, 17/12/1999). 35 Since 1995 the Council of State’s rulings under this provision have been transmitted to the French Parliament—a highly innovatory procedure, since this is not the case for its rulings regarding government bills (projets de loi). 36 It is something of an irony that Nicole Questiaux was behind the 1968 Semoules ruling which was so hostile to Community law, before going on to complete a long career at the Council of State.

6 Protection, reform and political will France and the European social model Susan Milner

Introduction Two successive presidents of the French republic placed social policy near the top of their priorities for European integration. Indeed, President François Mitterrand liked to claim paternity of the idea of ‘social Europe’, which he launched in 1981. Famously, he declared that Europe could not exist unless it were a ‘social’ Europe. Similarly, his successor Jacques Chirac claims responsibility for an upsurge of political interest in the ‘European social model’ (ESM), thanks to a memorandum he presented to the Lille summit of the G7 in March 1996. At the EU’s Stockholm summit in March 2001, Chirac even argued that social Europe was non-existent ‘until five years ago’; that is, the date of his Lille memorandum (EIS, 2001). In fact, French attempts to harmonise social regulations in Europe and more generally combat fiscal or social ‘dumping’ date back to 1956.1 Memories are short in politics, and it is true that much of the current debate around the European social model is strongly influenced by the late 1990s shift towards employment policy and the open method of coordination, and in particular by the policy paradigm ushered in by the Lisbon summit in March 2000. Given this claim to policy leadership, then, it is not surprising that the French government placed the reinforcement of the European social model foremost among the achievements of its presidency of the European Union in the second semester of 2000. Under this heading it included the adoption of the Charter of Fundamental Rights, of the European Social Agenda, and of the anti-discrimination directive; the raising of employment targets; the reaching of a common position on the European company statute, with its provisions on information and consultation of workers; and finally the declaration on ‘services of general interest’ which the French succeeded in including in the Nice Treaty.2 Although several of these measures had already been on the table for some time, and the content of some of them was less substantial than the French government claimed, they demonstrate a relatively high level of political commitment to European social policy by the French presidency. Opinion polls published at the time of the 2004 European Parliament elections also showed a strong public demand for a more protective social policy at European level. In response, the French Socialist Party (PS) published a manifesto which was strongly critical of Europe’s ‘social deficit’, and public debates in 2004 around the referendum on the European Union’s constitution also revealed a preoccupation with the social dimension of European integration.

Protection, reform and political will

93

This chapter examines France’s preoccupation with the protection of the European social model in the context of recent changes to France’s social protection system. It will be argued that reference to the European social model serves multiple political purposes: to reassure public opinion at a time of change; to legitimate domestic reform; to preserve bargaining space at European level. However, the salience of this reference varies according to the political colour of the government in office, and also to the specific area of social policy. The conclusion of this chapter discusses these and other factors which shape the extent and nature of the reference to European integration as a cause of economic and social reform.

Europeanisation and domestic politics Studies of the relationship between Europeanisation and domestic politics suggest that member states’ commitment to particular policy areas may be determined by existing domestic policy preferences and potential implementation costs (Goetz and Hix, 2000; Green Cowles et al., 2001; Börzel, 2002; Héritier et al., 2002). Thus, it would seem fair to characterise France as a ‘pace-setter’ in the area of European social policy, and to explain this position by France’s more advanced system of social protection and employment rights, which it attempts to ‘upload’ to the European level. France’s tradition of state intervention in social policy and employment relations places it at the other end of the spectrum from the UK, which boasts of its light labour market regulation and also maintains its principled opposition to qualified majority voting in the area of social policy (on the latter, see Bercusson, 2002). Jan Windebank and Colin Williams (1992), for example, argue that, due to the risk of business relocation to lower-cost countries, France has attempted to promote higher social standards in Europe ‘in order to protect its own standards of welfare’. This kind of tactic is especially evident in the discourse of the Socialist Party, which presents the ‘European social model’ as a way of protecting national social policy in an age when regulation of labour markets is frowned upon by international investors. Furthermore, in the diplomatic game-playing of EU politics, it has been suggested that France can use pace-setting in social policy either to back up leadership initiatives in other policy areas or to offset ‘foot-dragging’ in others (Gueldry, 2001). This tactic is all the more useful as it involves relatively low compliance costs; experience has shown European social policy measures to be limited and ‘soft’—that is, when they are not blocked or diluted by the UK. However, whilst these concerns and tactics are evident they do not fully explain the behaviour and rhetoric of French political leaders. Here we need to take into account two further points, the first relating to France’s wider view of European integration and the second relating to French social policy. First, the idea of ‘social Europe’ corresponds to a French vision of Europe which emphasises commonality of values, particularly in comparison with other regions of the world. France is not the only EU member state to place emphasis on a community of values, but the purpose of the rhetoric is to promote a view of European integration as a primarily political rather than economic project, and as a culturally and geographically bounded project.

French relations with the European Union

94

Second, the process of Europeanisation is not a simple one-way process of ‘uploading’ or ‘downloading’; rather, domestic and international politics are ‘entangled’, as Robert Putnam (1988) notes. Domestic interests are an important determining factor in European policy, but they are not uniform and may have more or less capacity to influence policy at any given time (for example, at different points in the electoral cycle or at times of economic upturn or downturn). The insistent reference to the European social model in French political discourse thus constitutes a double movement of protection and reform, in which political leaders are both responding to different constituencies at home and playing the diplomacy game at European level. The same policy instrument can be used in many different ways to suit the audience and the purpose. The ‘European social model’ provides a particularly useful instrument for this kind of differential message, because it is so vague and ambivalent. John Grahl and Paul Teague (1997, p. 405) define the European social model as ‘a specific combination of comprehensive welfare systems and strongly institutionalised and politicised forms of industrial relations’. For Fritz Scharpf (2002), however, the ESM is defined in negative terms as a lack of coordination between structurally different systems of social protection, in the context of European economic policies which exacerbate national differences in social policy. The term appeared in Commission reports in the mid-1980s at a time when the supranational institution was seeking legitimacy for an interventionist social policy.3 It was relayed in France by Martine Aubry, then social affairs minister, in response to the European social dialogue which had been established by Jacques Delors and particularly to the project of European works councils pioneered by several French multinationals, including Péchiney where she had worked and whose managing director was a close friend. The European social model also responded to the British veto in European social policy in the run-up to the next round of treaty reform which many hoped would bring in qualified majority voting in social policy. Aubry defined the European social model as resting on three central values or practices: a high level of social protection; the importance of collective bargaining and institutionalised dialogue in the workplace; a role for the state as the guarantor of social cohesion (Milner, 1992). In the 1990s, discussion of the European social model took place in the context of fierce debates about employment policy, particularly the merits of US- and UK-style labour market deregulation, given these countries’ better job creation record. Initially rather protective and defensive, the discussion shifted at the end of the 1990s as the open method of coordination emerged as a possible means of reconciling divergent views around a role for the domestic state in active labour market policies and a role for the European Union in benchmarking and target-setting. Hence, it should be noted that the meaning of the term has altered over time, as political consensus about the best way for the EU to intervene has shifted. Much of the academic debate around the European social model has concentrated on welfare expenditure (Gough, 1997). Ana Guillén (2003, p. 5) argues that ‘the distinctiveness of the European Union in relation to other industrial powers lies in the existence of mature welfare states among its members’. For Georg Vobruba (2003), new conditions of economic competition (or at least perceptions of them in national policy discourse) trigger new dilemmas: the welfare state is seen as a cost, but also as a precondition for economic success. Social expenditure becomes a primary arena of

Protection, reform and political will

95

conflict between the winners and losers of ‘globalisation’. The desire to protect or reform the existing ‘model’ is an expression of this conflict. Anton Hemerijck (2002) notes that EU member states are alike, not only in having mature welfare states but also in being involved in particular types of reform processes which are driven by the need to adapt these welfare states to new economic conditions, and which are shaped by societal choices and institutionally embedded actors. The ‘dynamic and distinctly “European” type of reform process’ he identifies (2002, p. 212) is characterised by commitments to equity and solidarity, a belief in the competitive advantage of social protection, and a preference for negotiated rather than imposed change. Hence, discussion of the European social model implies change as well as commitment to the status quo. In the discourse of the European Commission it is the modernisation of the European social model—rather than the European social model itself—which constitutes a key policy objective of ‘social Europe’ (Diamontopolou, 2001). The change in European policy orientation since around 1997, from a concern with strengthening rights to an emphasis on raising the employment rate, has meant an increasing preoccupation with welfare and labour market reform. Moreover, since the Lisbon summit of March 2000 which set out a ten-year agenda to make the EU ‘the most competitive and dynamic knowledge-based economy in the world’, reform of welfare and labour markets has become strongly associated with economic performance. For many commentators, the Lisbon agenda signifies no less than a complete overhaul of the European social model (Esping-Andersen, 2002). The Lisbon process creates significant adaptational pressures for France, identified at an early stage (alongside Germany) as a reform ‘laggard’ (Bannerman, 2001).4 In French public discourse, the ‘European social model’ broadly signifies commitment to high levels of welfare spending. An analysis of French newspaper reports for two recent years (2001 and 2002)5 reveals a multiplicity of sometimes conflicting definitions: a specific model of intergenerational solidarity through the pay-as-you-go pensions system; a vague commitment to social solidarity; solidarity and equality; commitment to full employment and public services; an existing set of social policy provisions; a political project which remains to be defined; old-style social democracy; a ‘Third Way’style marriage of competitiveness and solidarity; a set of legally enshrined employment and social protection rights; a mode of policy-making in which collective bargaining takes precedence over law. In some accounts, the European social model and social Europe are coterminous. In others, a distinction appears between them, whether in terms of national versus European policy-making, or in terms of policy style (where the European social model is a set of acquired rights and social Europe a new, more flexible way of approaching policy). Because of these basic disagreements over meaning it sometimes appears difficult to take the European social model seriously as a concept. According to French Gaullist MEP Jean-Louis Bourlanges, talk of the European social model is no more than a ‘trompe-l’oeil’, the Europe of pious but empty intentions (Bourlanges, 2001). For him, the fault lies with politicians who instrumentalise the concept. The neo-Keynesian economist Jean-Paul Fitoussi attributes the slipperiness of the term to a ‘sovereignty void’ at the heart of European social policy: whilst not wishing to transfer responsibility to supranational institutions, national politicians like to be able to refer unpopular decisions (such as those associated with welfare state retrenchment) upwards, or at least

French relations with the European Union

96

to bemoan the lack of support for protective measures at a higher level. Because of the gap between economic pressures and public expectations, social policy is particularly vulnerable to this kind of ‘sovereignty void’ (or blame avoidance). These arguments associate references to the European social model not so much with protection or reform but with immobilism and indecision. The ‘two-level game’ approach also needs to be discussed in the specific context of the French polity. In particular, it needs to take account of political leaders’ ‘fear of the streets’ since the huge public-sector strike movements of 1995. Whilst still broadly proEuropean, the idea of an alternative Europe has made headway in grass-roots associations and some trade union circles. On the other hand, the employers’ lobby has become much more aggressively outspoken in demanding state withdrawal. Meanwhile, the old ‘permissive consensus’ on European integration has given way to a much more critical and defensive public opinion. In short, national government’s margin for manoeuvre is severely constrained, and this has undoubtedly affected France’s European policy. A public consultation exercise was launched in France in April 2001, shortly after the Barcelona summit which was widely seen in France as an attack on public services, particularly public energy providers. It revealed both a strong commitment to the idea of a European social model and high public expectations about what the EU should be about and should do. In the collective and individual responses to the Braibant committee’s questions about the future of Europe,6 the European social model was defined in different ways by different collective actors, but consensus emerged around the following elements: democracy, a high standard of living, a high level of social protection and highquality public services. Several contributions argued that, with the single market and monetary union now accomplished, the motor of integration is now social policy. Foreign and security policy integration is desirable not as an end in itself but as a means of asserting European power (‘Europe-puissance’), which will allow the EU to pursue its economic and social goals. The logic of integration has thus, in this view, passed the economic stage and is at the societal stage. Of interest here is the close match between the public’s priorities and those set by the president and government at the time, but also the constraints on action placed by the French public’s attachment to public service provision and high levels of social protection. The public demand for the European social model and the claims of trade unions and social-sector NGOs are essentially protective, with fears often expressed of a downward harmonisation of social legislation and protection. As I have argued elsewhere (Milner, 2004), this gap between expectations and fears has fuelled left-wing ‘soft’ Euroscepticism.

The double discourse of protection and reform As noted (p. 105), it is Jacques Chirac who has done the most to popularise the term ‘European social model’, defined in exactly the same way as Aubry in a formula which he has repeated in many speeches since the beginning of his first presidency. The object of the Lille memorandum appears to have been threefold: first, to establish his ‘social credentials’ at home following a presidential election campaign in which Chirac stood on traditional left-wing ground around the theme of social divisions (‘la fracture sociale’), in a context of popular anxiety about unemployment and the social consequences of

Protection, reform and political will

97

economic globalisation; second, to promote the idea of a specific European identity standing counter to the Anglo-Saxon (i.e. US) ‘model’; third, to highlight British isolation on social policy in the run-up to the next round of treaty reform which culminated in the Amsterdam Treaty. Following the signature of the Amsterdam Treaty, Chirac continued in his domestic and international speeches to promote the idea of the European social model as a way of highlighting and strengthening its provisions on employment policy. But whilst the most robust defender of the European social model, Chirac was also the most outspoken advocate of reform of the domestic system of social protection and industrial relations. The British government which scorned Chirac’s memorandum on the European social model in March 1996 would have recognised many of the reform proposals he put forward, in particular the idea—later adopted by Tony Blair under the ‘Third Way’ banner—that ‘We now need to replace [our] culture of assistance with a culture of responsibility’ (Chirac, 1997). Blair would also have endorsed Chirac’s appeal to control health spending, adapt family policy to suit new conditions of massive female labour market participation, and promote employability (although the word was not used) through lifelong learning. It is perhaps tempting to dismiss this double message as another example of Chirac’s ideological flexibility, allowing him to respond to traditional small-business and lower-middle-class desires for protection whilst garnering support among the advocates of economic liberalism. But this double message was at the heart of Chirac’s presidency during cohabitation, giving him the political space to present an apparently united front with his ‘plural left’ government at European level, but also to criticise the government for increasing labour market rigidity with its reduction of working time and moves to strengthen redundancy protection. In general terms, the socialists—particularly the ‘modernising’ wing of the party— were less aggressive in their promotion of the European social model than Chirac. Not having participated in the preparations for Amsterdam, the socialists were less inclined to celebrate it as a victory for EU social policy and indeed looked critically at the meagre achievements of the social protocol procedure. On the other hand, they were more favourably disposed to the employment guidelines, having insisted on the need for an employment summit at Amsterdam. Although it took acceptance of the European social model for granted as a reference, the Jospin government tended to prioritise instead the policy coordination method: economic government and employment policy coordination. The plural left government used references to the European social model for specific policy objectives, but in a more responsive mode which sought to match the components of the European social model to the changing EU environment. In a speech specifically on the European social model in 2001, Jospin argued that the European social model did not already exist except at the level of broad values (broad commitment to social protection and the social dialogue) and criticised European social policy to date (Jospin, 2001). For Jospin, the European social model was closely associated with public services which need to be strengthened and modernised (in a reference to the domestic reform agenda). In terms of policy proposals, Jospin advocated the idea of a ‘European social contract’, but omitted to specify its content. At the level of ideas and discourse, the socialists were followers rather than leaders on European social policy, perhaps because they knew that realistically this was the only way to achieve consensus support for the European employment guidelines both at home and among other member states.

French relations with the European Union

98

Welfare and labour market reform in France In examining the scope and pace of reform in social and labour market policy, we need to note that scholarly opinion is divided. For some (Malo et al., 2000; Pierson, 2001), France is a laggard in social policy reform. For others (Palier, 2000; Coron and Palier, 2002), there has been a significant ‘defrosting’ of the system by the addition of new elements which fundamentally alter the logic of the traditional French welfare state. Anders Lindblom (2002) argues that the difference is essentially one of time perspective, with Bruno Palier and others claiming that the changes recently introduced will have longer-term impact and open the way for further cuts in the future. It is also noteworthy that French scholars tend to emphasise the significance of change, whilst those observing from the outside have more difficulty identifying the change. This difference of perspective is perhaps explained by the importance of French-style universalism, as seen in republican guarantees of equality of access through the ‘social wage’ (Friot, 1998), rather than the Scandinavian-style universal services model which tends to inform welfare reform analysis. In other words, what to outsiders might appear to be a relatively minor change to one single component of the social protection system may be perceived domestically as a wider threat to the basic logic of the system. Systemic change may thus be initiated by apparently small-scale reforms which fundamentally alter the ‘claiming principle’ defining access to benefits (Bonoli and Palier, 1998) or the ‘resource regimes’ (Clasquin et al., 2004); that is, the mechanisms which provide the link between work and welfare. Moreover, highly regulated systems will adapt in different ways from less-regulated systems to the same pressures, largely because of veto points within the system. Hence, ‘flexibility on the margin’, particularly in relation to labour market policy, may be the only manageable way of introducing change over a long period but will be seen as comparatively ‘meagre’ from the outside (Malo et al., 2000, p. 266). More specifically, there appears to be a link between the institutional design of specific welfare policies and the particular reform strategies: for example, earningsrelated pensions tend to be changed to strengthening the relationship between contributions and benefits, whilst flat-rate benefits are cut back by restricting availability (Myles and Quadagno, 1997; Bonoli and Palier, 1998). In short, national reform strategies can be both convergent (in terms of general direction and/or discourse) and path-specific (in method). As Jonah Levy (2001, p. 266) asks, ‘Is there only one way to conduct austerity, or several?’ Moreover, apparently small and incremental changes in modes of funding benefits may also bring about systemic institutional change. In France, three related changes since the mid-1990s are especially significant: first, the shift from employment-related contributions to greater use of taxation; second, the increased involvement of the state and corresponding weakening of the ‘social partners’ (particularly trade unions) whose joint management of social security schemes traditionally constituted a fundamental characteristic of the system; third, the erosion of the relationship between paid employment and social insurance by the growing use of employer subsidies for low-paid work. Reform of social insurance

Protection, reform and political will

99

Paul Pierson (2001) identifies three main aspects of welfare state retrenchment: recommodification (shifting services back to the market), costcontainment and recalibration (rationalisation and updating). According to his comparative analysis, costcontainment applies to almost all OECD countries, whilst recommodification has been limited to Anglo-Saxon countries. Recalibration in the sense of updating (to adapt to changing societal demands) has taken place in continental welfare states such as France, although as we have noted Pierson describes change in France as laggardly. For Gaël Coron and Bruno Palier (2002), the major thrust of change has been cost-containment. The drive to contain costs guided social policy throughout the post-war period, reflecting structural weaknesses of the system: due to ‘welfare inflation’ the social security deficit ‘gradually became one of the essential challenges for social welfare policy in France’ (Coron and Palier, 2002, p. 102). Under threat of protest from the social partners and social security administrators, successive governments attempted to solve the problem by increasing social security contributions rather than by cutting expenditure, which continued to rise.7 However, the nature of the policy debate changed in the 1980s as employers campaigned successfully on the need to reduce social security contributions, on the grounds that high contributions increased labour costs and therefore acted as a disincentive to employment. The employers’ lobby, particularly the peak organisation Conseil National du Patronat Français (CNPF), cited Eurostat statistics which showed France funding a much larger proportion of social benefits through employer and employee contributions than any other European country. This mode of funding was seen to disadvantage lower-paid workers both by increasing their personal tax burden8 and by making them less attractive to potential employers. The central importance of social security contributions began to be eroded through employment policy, which in the late 1980s and 1990s gave priority to employment subsidy schemes in the form of partial or full exemptions from employers’ social security contributions. Similar partial exemptions were applied to low-wage earners from 1993. The introduction of the Contribution Sociale Généralisée (CSG) by Michel Rocard’s government in 1991 constituted a ‘step-change’ (Coron and Palier, 2002, p. 118) in the proportion of social expenditure financed by taxation, although its effect was gradual as successive governments of right and left increased the CSG rate. The amount of revenue raised by the CSG increased steeply after 1997, accounting for nearly 20 per cent of social security revenue. Initially used to finance family allowances and pensions, some of the revenue raised went to finance health expenditure from 1997. The impetus for this change came from domestic political leaders, with both right and left committed to employment subsidies and both major political groups supportive of the CSG (although the left introduced it, tentatively and temporarily in 1983 and definitively in 1991). However, the European policy environment provided an important source of ideas and legitimation. As noted above, advocates of reform seized on comparative European figures showing France’s anomalous position. In the 1990s, one of the major ideas of the developing European employment policy was the need to switch funding of social expenditure from insurance-style contributions to general taxation. Thus, the shift towards general taxation took place largely within the context of European constraints on budget expenditure but also, after 1998, as part of France’s strategy to make the welfare system more ‘employment-friendly’ in line with the European employment guidelines.

French relations with the European Union

100

The CSG represents a significant step in France’s welfare reform, bolstered by the European policy environment. Further cost-containment measures were taken after 1995, notably in Alain Juppé’s health reform plan which was continued and extended by Martine Aubry in 1999. These measures aimed to trim costs mainly by reducing the amount reimbursed for more expensive drugs and discouraging excessive medical consultations. On the other hand, it is also possible to point to constantly rising social security spending—under governments of right as well as left—as evidence of policy continuity rather than fundamental change. Nevertheless, the move from increased contributions to a new mode of funding (taxation) constitutes a shift in the French policy paradigm in the 1990s, supporting the argument that the first moves towards fundamental change have been made. Furthermore, the right government after 2002 made the growing health deficit a major policy issue, explicitly drawing comparisons with other European countries and particularly the UK model. The European model of cost-cutting thus provides a rationale for reform once the diagnosis of crisis (untenable costs) has been publicly made.9 Pension reform Commenting on the adoption at first reading of the retirement pensions bill on 3 July 2003, social affairs minister François Fillon declared: ‘We have made the future of our pension system secure.’10 The theme of protection through reform had dominated the centre-right’s campaign on pensions. In line with a succession of earlier reports since 1988, the government avoided opting for capitalisation of pensions and argued that the only way to save France’s pay-as-you-go system was to extend the contributions period for both public and private sector workers. In this case, demographic change was cited as the main reason for change within the existing system, which can therefore be classified as ‘recalibration/ updating’ according to Pierson’s labels. On the other hand, opponents of the reform argued that successive modifications to the general pension regime worked on the basis of calculating a strict relationship between length of period of contribution and entitlement to benefits, thus breaching the basic logic of intergenerational solidarity and the idea of the pensionable age as a universal right. As Levy (2001, p. 268) notes, ‘probably the most significant retrenchment measure in France’ of the 1990s was taken by Édouard Balladur’s government in 1993. The pension system for private-sector employees was restricted by extending the contribution period from 37.5 to 40 years, by indexing pensions to prices instead of wages, and by changing the calculation of the reference salary from the average of the best ten years to the average of the best 25 years (thus both increasing contributions and reducing benefits). Remarkably, the reform was passed with minimal social protest, unlike the later bill extending the same cuts to public-sector employees. As with the shift from social insurance to general taxation, advocates of reform made extensive use of comparative European statistics to argue the case for change. The employers’ organisation (now renamed Mouvement des Entreprises de France or MEDEF) campaigned vigorously for pension reform, which formed a central plank of its ‘Refondation Sociale’ project. The MEDEF used national-level talks with the major trade union confederations, relaunched under the ‘Refondation Sociale’ banner in 1999, to extend the contribution period for complementary pensions. In its publications it

Protection, reform and political will

101

portrayed France as an outrider in Europe, not only for the generosity of its pensions but also for its failure to reform the system in the face of demographic pressure, unlike the other two main ‘pay-as-you-go’ countries, Italy and Germany. Whereas the legal retirement age had been raised to 65 years elsewhere in Europe, France stood out in sticking to 60; in some countries, such as Finland, the retirement age had even been raised to 67, and in northern Europe employment after the legal retirement age was being encouraged (MEDEF, 2001). In this the French employers were bolstered by European pressure groups and think-tanks which saw the French case as anomalous. This message was unambiguously carried within the arena of European political decision-making, partly due to budgetary pressures within the area of macroeconomic policy, partly as a result of the employment guidelines which stated the extension of working life as a policy priority (in order to raise the overall employment rate), and partly as a result of the extension of the open method of coordination to other policy areas such as pensions within the European Social Agenda. Here European social policy worked to isolate France’s pension system as an example of ‘bad practice’ which needed to be reformed. Press coverage of the March 2001 Barcelona summit, held in the immediate run-up to the French presidential election, noted that both of the leading candidates Chirac and Jospin had been wrong-footed by the EU which required them to commit themselves publicly to pension reform. The Lisbon agenda also explicitly encourages member states with payas-you-go pension systems to create incentives for private savings, to reduce the future burden on public finances. The London-based Centre for European Reform’s annual Lisbon scoreboards, which initially cast France as a ‘villain’ for the slow pace of welfare and labour market reform, had by 2004 noted the ‘significant’ reforms undertaken (Murray, 2004). More directly, the creation of a private pensions market was actively promoted by the European Commission as an internal market measure. The European directive on pension funds, initially presented in October 2000 and adopted on 13 May 2003 (IP/03/6669), allows for the creation of European-wide pension funds and will therefore, according to some commentators, bring in private pensions ‘by the back door’.11 The pensions case illustrates the complexities and difficulties of reform à la française. For primarily tactical rather than ideological reasons, left and right have chosen different methods of reform. The 2003 pensions bill, which caused public-sector employees to take to the streets and saw the government’s popularity ratings drop, enacted what the Juppé government had tried to do in 1995 but abandoned in the face of mass protest. Following the failure of the 1995 proposals, the left had tried to buy time by commissioning report after report. It was particularly difficult for the left to tackle pension reform head-on by extending the contribution period, not only because their natural constituency is the disgruntled public sector but also because the lowering of the retirement age constitutes the major social achievement of the 1980s in public perception. At the same time, however, the left government also tried, in the words of The Economist’s Paris correspondent, to ‘reform pensions by stealth’. In October 2002, finance minister Laurent Fabius introduced a voluntary long-term savings scheme subsidised by tax breaks and topped up by employers, in effect ‘a pension fund in disguise’ according to banker Stéphane Déo (The Economist, 2002). Given the voluntary nature of the scheme, it was unlikely to make serious inroads into the state pension system in the short term. But, again, the introduction of individual pension funds marks a significant break with the

French relations with the European Union

102

traditional mode of financing pensions, particularly when accompanied by less generous state pension benefits over the longer term. Pension reform has been a case of responding to pressure from the Euro-pean Union (Europeanisation through ‘downloading’ European policy orthodoxy), but only to the extent that this fitted the prevailing domestic political agenda of reform. Labour market policy There are at least two reasons why we might expect labour market policy to be more affected by Europeanisation than social security. The first reason relates to the impact of the European regulatory framework which, since the adoption of the Luxembourg employment process in 1997 and the recommendations of the Lisbon summit in March 2002, has set targets and explicitly benchmarked member states’ performance, indicating policy preferences around certain types of policy such as active labour market measures. The ‘open method of coordination’ is also being applied to pensions and social security, although more slowly and cautiously as social security remains squarely in the domain of national policy-making. On the other hand, Denis Bouget (2003) notes that real convergence—in economic as in social policy—remains curiously unaffected by rulemaking. However, the regulatory framework may be less significant than the ideational influence exerted by EU Commission reports (often backed up by OECD analyses) (Erhel and Palier, 2003; Erhel and Zajdela, 2004). The second reason relates to the impact of economic change, assuming that the European policy space acts as a safety zone both giving a limited amount of protection from international competition and equipping domestic economies to compete internationally. This being the case, Vobruba (2003) argues that, whereas pensions and health security develop from demographic and other societal demands rather than from economic pressures, globalisation has a direct impact on both the demand for and supply of labour. However, this impact operates at the political level, since unemployment or labour market insecurity affects social groups differentially. In other words, rather than leading directly to convergence between European states, the effect of economic changes will be played out in conflicts between domestic actors at national level, as well as in attempts to steer the regulatory framework at European level. In France, the policy record of the 1990s was mixed. The main driving force for labour market policy was the battle against unemployment, which provoked calls for both protection and flexibility. Neither of these two paradigms carried the day; rather, politicians sought to steer between them. However, it will be argued here that the introduction of flexibility did alter the prevailing system and brought France closer to the ‘norm’ of the European social model, at least according to those aspects of it which prioritise collective bargaining rather than the law as the motive force of employment relations. As already noted, ‘flexibility at the margins’ was introduced by successive governments’ schemes to get young people and long-term unemployed people back to work. As well as subsidies to employers which eroded the social insurance system, targeted employment schemes also opened the way for flexibilisation of hiring and firing policies. From the early 1980s the proportion of employees on fixed-term contracts rose steadily and by the end of the 1980s they constituted the majority of all new jobs, despite

Protection, reform and political will

103

apparently strict conditions attached to their use. According to the OECD, the use of temporary and fixed-term contracts is particularly associated with countries which maintain strict hiring and firing legislation, suggesting that forms of flexibility are pathdependent (Milner, 2002). At the same time, governments of all hues, but particularly of the left, were sensitive to the political impact of mass redundancies. In 1986 the right responded to the employers’ lobby’s vociferous calls for the scrapping of a legal requirement, brought in by Chirac’s government in 1976, for all prior approval by the labour inspectorate of all mass redundancies. The regulatory gap was to be filled by collective bargaining, but employers and trade unions could not reach agreement on the subject. In response, Aubry as social affairs minister introduced the ‘social plan’ requirement whereby the public authorities had to agree plans for redeployment and retraining before mass redundancies could take place. Demands for tighter regulation became more vociferous in the late 1990s. The left government came to power in March 1997 following mass protests at the French car producer Renault’s decision to restructure its European production, leading to job losses and the closure of the Vilwoorde plant in Belgium. The Jospin government’s response was both to tighten domestic legislation and to encourage further restriction of redundancies in European legislation (which became a priority for the French presidency of the EU in 2000). However, its own attempts to protect workers through the 2001 ‘loi de modernisation sociale’ satisfied no one and arguably contributed to the climate of despondency in early 2002 in the run-up to the presidential elections. Employers campaigned hard against the law, which sought to restrict the scope of mass redundancies by requiring a clear economic motive, on the grounds that the rigidities it created would drive companies out of business and make France unattractive to overseas investors; the Constitutional Council agreed with them that the law infringed businesses’ ability to make commercial decisions; and even the major trade union confederations pronounced the law unworkable and counter-productive. In reforming the 2001 law on collective redundancies, the right has borrowed the language of social dialogue which (as we have noted on p. 115) the organised employers had earlier employed to great effect in their attempts to erode the left government’s social democratic interventionism. In 2003 it suspended the law whilst awaiting the outcome of national-level talks on economic restructuring. As with other national-level talks since 2000, the MEDEF has set the agenda for these talks. But probably the area where regulation has moved in the direction of labour market flexibility, this time internal rather than external, is working time. The removal of France’s strong barriers to working-time flexibility was another loudly voiced employer complaint. From 1985 a succession of laws sought to promote working-time flexibility, and make part-time work easier, by encouraging enterprise-level bargaining which could ‘derogate’ from national norms. It had always been part of the French legal tradition that collective agreements, including at company level, could improve on existing law, and indeed such pioneering agreements themselves could be extended by law to other companies in the same region or sector. However, the new derogations fundamentally altered the basis of French employment law because, in practice, many of the enterpriselevel agreements opted for flexibility without the security of legal maxima or minima. The same process was at work in many of the company-level agreements reached following the first Aubry law in 1998, which imposed a legal weekly working-hours limit

French relations with the European Union

104

of 35 hours from 1 January 2000 for all companies with over twenty employees, and introduced financial incentives for all companies which reached collective agreements on working-time reduction before this deadline (Milner, 2002). Finally, the impact of the European regulatory framework—the employment guidelines—may be seen most clearly in the tightening of eligibility criteria for unemployment benefits, in line with the general thrust of social policy (noted on p. 115 for pensions). Throughout the 1990s, a series of reforms had sought to make local employment agencies more responsive to individual job-searching, using the experience of other European countries more or less explicitly as a model. The terminology of the employment process was also imported, notably the UK’s ‘new start’ and the idea of ‘pathways’ to employment for targeted populations at critical junctures. Since the employment insurance system is primarily financed and administered by the social partners rather than the state, the impetus for reform of benefits came from the employers rather than government. In October 2000 an agreement on the Projet d’Aide au Retour a l’Emploi (PARE) significantly altered the basis of unemployment benefit. Previously, the insurance principle on which unemployment benefit rested (principally financed by employers, and administered through a bipartite fund) meant that benefits were seen as an automatic right (dependent on contribution; that is, previous employment). In return for increased benefits and personalised support services, the unemployed person is recast as a ‘job-seeker’ and commits him/herself to active job-searching, with the understanding that failure to seek work will result in loss of benefits. Conditionality of benefits proved very controversial in France, and two of the leading confederations, the Confédération Générale du Travail (CGT) and Force Ouvrière (FO), refused to sign the agreement. The left coalition government also expressed opposition to the agreement but finally approved it and, following Martine Aubry’s departure from the social affairs ministry, adopted it by decree in December 2000. In labour market policy, then, changes in the late 1990s showed the left coalition government grappling with, on the one hand, business pressures for cost-cutting and flexibility and, on the other, popular demands for labour market protection (for example, on mass redundancies) and, in some cases (for example, public sector pensions), trade union defence of the welfare state. Appeals to the European social model reflected a search for regulatory solutions which would help to resolve these conflicting demands at relatively low cost to domestic legislators. However, in practice the idea of uploading regulatory problems found little response at European level. Rather, there is evidence of downloading of the flexibility and employability paradigms, particularly through the campaigning of the organised employers’ lobby. The right government after 2002 further tightened eligibility criteria and the link between work and benefits with the creation of the Revenu Minimum d’Activité (RMA). This measure sought to strengthen the work requirements of the basic income benefit Revenu Minimum d’Insertion, introduced in 1988 under socialist prime minister Michel Rocard, by incentivising work in relation to passive receipt of benefits. The RMA was heralded by the right as a labour market activation measure, in line with the European employment strategy. Whereas activation was always present in the RMI, administrators found it difficult in practice to find the requisite number of jobs for the benefit recipients to carry out (usually low-skilled publicly financed jobs, typically maintenance, cleaning or construction). It was not so much on incentivisation of work that the left parted

Protection, reform and political will

105

company with the right, but on the means to achieve it: the right preferred to subsidise private-sector jobs, by exonerating companies from social contributions. In terms of policy initiatives, the notion that France sought to preserve its protective social policies by uploading them to the European level appears to be at least only partially true. Rather, the European policy environment, and the employment strategy in particular, appears to have provided mild adaptational pressures and opportunities to legitimate reform. The shift towards employer subsidies, especially under the right, accompanied changes in social security funding in weakening the social solidarity function of employment, whilst both right and left tightened eligibility criteria for unemployment benefits, making labour market participation the main claiming principle for social protection.

Conclusion This brief overview has shown that the European social model constitutes an important part of French policy discourse on European integration. It reflects the continuing preoccupation with European distinctiveness in relation to the rest of the world (particularly the USA), although it is a relatively new term which responds to the specific policy context of the 1990s-2000s. The notion of a European social model enjoys broad support across the mainstream parties of government and also across civil society actors and in public opinion, but is mediated by ideology. Left parties in government tend to use it in a protective sense, whilst possibly hiding behind it; right parties tend to use it as a reformist tool, to legitimate reform and provide comparative benchmarks. European social policy is a contested arena, reflecting the tensions and dislocations caused by the recalibration of welfare in western Europe (Jessop, 2002). The original agenda of the European social model was largely offensive; that is, the promotion of specific policies at European level. In its original formulation it is a social democratic, normative concept. However, since 2000 social and employment policies have become firmly attached to the ‘competitiveness’ agenda of reform and restructuring. The idea that the European social model can only be preserved through reform marks a shift away from a social-democratic to a ‘social-liberal’ Europe, if by social liberalism (or liberal socialism) we understand a third way between redistributive policies and welfare retrenchment (Bachet and Durand, 2002). A tension exists between this reformist version of the European social model and the popular version (as expressed in responses to the Braibant consultation process), conceived as a regulatory project aimed at preserving or even enhancing French citizens’ social protection. The Jospin government’s appeal for European labour market regulation can be seen not so much as social-liberalism as an attempt to resolve national policy dilemmas by uploading them. However, it succeeded in this attempt only in so far as the solutions sought by the French left coincided with the reformist agenda promoted by the UK and other member states. For example, the redundancies directive was adopted in spring 2001, but despite tightening the requirements for information and consultation of workers did not deliver any substantive new protection. The French left was able to promote a new employment offensive at the Luxembourg summit in November 1997, but only because the guidelines adopted were sufficiently broad to encompass Scandinavian-style

French relations with the European Union

106

activation measures and UK-style supply-side measures. Such tensions help to explain the hesitations in France’s European policy during the Jospin years. In particular, Jospin himself was accused of leaving a policy vacuum on European affairs, preferring to fall back on the time-worn discourse of ‘social Europe’ whilst giving it little substantive content, instead of responding to wider questions about the future of Europe, for example in response to German think-pieces before and during the French presidency of the European Union (La Tribune, 7 May 2001, p. 18; Le Monde, 9 May 2001, P. 4). President Chirac’s espousal of the European social model, on the other hand, appears closer to a ‘social liberal’ approach which presents reform as an inevitable condition of survival. The right government in power since May 2002 has also laid claim to the ‘social liberal’ label, in which reform is promoted aggressively but also assumes consultation of the social partners. This reading of the European social model emphasises social dialogue as a process leading to reform. Business competitiveness is assumed to represent the primary objective, but social cohesion demands that the interests of workers and other interested parties are at least aired. If the French left was unable during its term of office (1997–2002) simply to upload its policy dilemmas, neither is it possible to identify a simple process of policy downloading. Existing institutional arrangements, in particular the trade unions’ attachment to joint management of social security funds, are strongly embedded in the system. Moreover, public opinion tends to define the frontiers of reform, and in the French case is broadly protectionist. Nevertheless, as we have seen, French social and employment policy underwent substantial change in the 1990s and 2000s, and much of this change aligned France with other European countries in that it undermined universalism, increased conditionality of benefits and eroded protective legislation. As we have noted, the amount of change has been underestimated in many accounts. In the context of France’s statecentric policy style, it appears that the rhetoric of the European social model may be about creating a space for the state to invent its own version of retrenchment. The salience of the European social model—and its usefulness as a tool for reform— appears to vary across the different sectors of social policy. This no doubt reflects the extent and mode of competence or activism: labour market and pensions policy are more directly affected by adaptational pressures arising from the EU’s employment strategy, from the Lisbon agenda and from recent directives on pension funding (see Erhel and Zajdela, 2004). From the domestic perspective, it has also been suggested that the salience of European integration may depend on the scale of reform, with large-scale reforms necessitating legitimation by reference to external constraints (Clasen and Clegg, 2003). More generally, Colin Hay and Ben Rosamond (2002) note that parties appeal to Europe or globalisation where domestic reforms are likely to prove unpopular and unpalatable; but a number of contextual factors predispose incumbent administrations to appeal to European integration (rather than globalisation) as the proximate cause of social and economic reform. They suggest that French governments are more likely to refer to the EU in legitimating domestic reform because of the negative connotations of globalisation and because of France’s tradition of leadership, lending plausibility to a claim of having some direct influence over the direction and process of integration. France’s espousal of the European social model fits this explanation, which is supported

Protection, reform and political will

107

by opinion poll data. For example, in a CSA poll published in July 2001, 59 per cent of respondents expressed confidence in the EU to direct globalisation in the right direction (the highest score, along with the United Nations) (CSA, 2001). As we noted earlier, France’s attachment to the European social model is both consistent with its broader policies on European integration and a source of tensions between political leaders and the general public, which expects the EU to protect it from the negative effects of international economic competition.

Notes 1 French (socialist) prime minister Guy Mollet tried unsuccessfully in 1956 to make harmonisation of social regulations a precondition for opening up industrial markets (see Scharpf, 2002). 2 According to the ‘Bilan de la Présidence française de l’Union européenne’, a government summary pasted on the official website but subsequently removed after the change of government in May 2002. 3 A report on ‘social Europe’ published by Jacques Delors’s think-tank Notre Europe notes that the EC’s founding fathers ‘believed in a European social model’, an idea strongly promoted by the two Delors commissions (see Arnaud, 1997, p. 7). 4 The Lisbon agenda includes innovation (research and development, high-tech production); liberalisation of public services; enterprise (reduction of administrative burdens on business, especially small businesses); employment and social inclusion (incentivisation of work); and sustainable development (notably moves towards the Kyoto targets on greenhouse gas emissions). 5 Using Lexis-Nexis database. Sources are principally Le Monde, Libération, Le Figaro, Les Échos, La Tribune. 6 Around 25,000 are said to have taken part in the exercise (see Braibant, 2001). 7 The proportion of health care expenditure to GDP increased from 7.6 per cent in 1980 to 9.7 per cent in 1994, when it stabilised (9.6 per cent in 2001). This compared to 10.6 per cent in Germany in 2001, but only 6.9 per cent in the UK. The health deficit rose from 0.7 billion euros in 1999 to a record 9.7 billion euros in 2003, bringing the overall social security severely into the red from 2002. 8 Eurostat figures for 1991–2000 show that the tax burden on low wage earners (including social security contributions) remains relatively high for France, above the EU average although slightly lower than Sweden and Belgium, and that it remained roughly constant during the 1990s. The EU average is itself significantly higher than that for the USA or Japan. See Eurostat (2001). 9 In the event, the government lost its nerve after its crushing defeat in the April 2004 regional elections and, instead of the promised overhaul, delivered only ‘reform around the edges’. The reform pursued a logic of cost-containment by increasing user charges (the introduction of a one euro charge per consultation, and an increase in pensioners’ CSG contribution). However, the communist daily L’Humanité suspected a longer-term agenda of insurance privatisation (see L’Humanité, 15 May 2004), as both the incumbent and previous health minister had, in speeches, floated the idea of introducing private finance. 10 On France Inter radio news. The need to reform in order to protect was a theme of Fillon’s discourse as social affairs minister; see, for example, ‘Réponse au conservatisme de gauche’, Le Monde, 27 March 2004: ‘I have only one objective, one obsession: to save our social model by reframing, adjusting everything that merits it.’

French relations with the European Union

108

11 Jean-Gilles Malliarakis, a prominent leader of the radical right and a vociferous advocate of pensions privatisation, hailed the 2003 directive as the single most significant change to France’s pension system, more important than Fillon’s or any other domestic reform.

7 The French press and the European Union The challenge of Community news Olivier Baisnée

Introduction The history of the coverage of European Union (EU) affairs by the French press has many parallels with the history of the EU itself. Both were originally highly specialised; both have become progressively institutionalised. The story of how the French press has covered the EU, however, is also the account of a group of French journalists who covered European affairs exclusively for more than 25 years, and whose work changed continuously to keep pace with the changing EU environment. These men1 started off as specialised journalists working for specialist publications in Brussels. Over time they joined leading national titles, working for many different papers, and ended up becoming known as the Brussels correspondents; this by virtue of their amount of newsprint for which they were responsible, and because their de facto monopoly2 on EU news meant that what they wrote became synonymous with information. This story, rather like that of France’s relations with the EU overall, is relatively unknown in its detail, and rather difficult to reconstitute given the absence of large-scale historical works on the subject.3 Our own approach does not claim to be exhaustive, and hence does not allow us to offer a general history of how the French press has covered European integration.4 It is an approach that aims instead to arrive at a better understanding of how certain journalistic practices become institutionalised. Methodologically this implies in-depth interviews with key actors as part of a broader research design, including observation, interviews, and the use of historical material. Our more modest aim is thus to provide a number of keys to understanding the dynamics at work which, in turn, help us to understand the difficulties facing French newsrooms when covering Europe. We have chosen to focus on two linked aspects of this story. First, we have taken the case of the Brussels veterans who, in the context of a very small number of French correspondents, effectively incarnated Brussels for a very long time. Second, we explore the gradual institutionalisation of EU news, with particular reference to the creation by Le Monde of a dedicated European Union page. We will also address the problems encountered by French correspondents in Brussels when trying to interest their editors in news that is deemed to be very ‘exotic’. This approach opens up more general issues such as the ‘technocratic’ image of the EU’s institutions, an image which is reinforced in part by the manner in which EU news has come to be reported; the problems that this coverage creates for the perceived legitimacy of these institutions, and the interest that the more popular media take (or do not take) in them; and the extent to which editors can

French relations with the European Union

110

allow themselves to pay close attention to a type of information that is deemed dull, and thus of interest to very few readers. The attitude of the French press towards European affairs is changing, but slowly, and not necessarily in a linear direction. The fact that Le Monde now has an almost daily page given over to European questions does not alter the fact that the major French medias (especially on radio and TV) remain reticent, at best, regarding Brussels. The fact that only one French TV channel (France 3) has a permanent correspondent in Brussels speaks for itself. The way in which Brussels is covered has doubtless been altered since the 1998–9 crisis of the Santer Commission,5 when French correspondents (from Libération, notably) were amongst those publishing ‘revelations’ (Baisnée, 2002). Nevertheless, the inertia of routine, which is reinforced by the way that the EU institutions themselves handle the press (Baisnée, 2001), is such that any change should not be overestimated. At the most, EU coverage in the French press in comparison with the past has become less specialist, more diversified, but certainly not more popular. This chapter is in three parts. First, we return to the career paths of the French ‘pioneers’ in Brussels. We pay particular attention to how they made the transition from the specialised to the national press, and ended up incarnating the EU correspondent par excellence. Second, we focus on the difficulties that French journalists have encountered in persuading their papers to take Community news. Third, we analyse how in which circumstances and under which constraints Le Monde came to create a Europe page, and how significant this might be for our analysis of the difficulties encountered by the French media when reporting EU news.

The influence of the first correspondents The way in which the French press covers the EU has been profoundly influenced by those who today figure as the ‘veterans’ of the press corps. Indeed, a number of French journalists have been in Brussels for a very long time, working for highly respected newspapers and known as experts in European affairs. Their 30 years6 spent working with the EU’s institutions, and the invaluable contacts that they acquired when, as young journalists, they were rubbing shoulders with future senior Eurocrats, makes them the ‘best address books in Brussels’. There are very, very few of them, and they derive their influence from the resources that they alone possess to this extent, and their fit with the dominant idea of what a Brussels correspondent should be. The extent of their social capital within the Community’s elite is second to none, as is their mastery of the dossiers that some of them have been covering for the 30 years (such as the Common Agricultural Policy). The French veterans of the Brussels press corps These individuals effectively defined a post that values the resources that they possessed (contacts, mastery of the technicalities of Community questions), and that only they could possess, given the time required to build up such assets. Moreover, in a professional culture that revolves around mutual support and which looked after its new recruits, these veterans were inevitably seen as role models.7

The French press and the Eurepean Union

111

A veteran’s story Georges is a Brussels correspondent for a French economics daily. He arrived in the European capital at the end of the 1960s. He recounted for us his early interest in European affairs, and his involvement in intellectual and activist8 circles before reaching Brussels. He had studied at Sciences Po in Grenoble9 and belonged to an organised students’ group10 which debated European affairs: From the time that I was a student in Grenoble there were a few of us who set up a group on European affairs. I have to admit that we were crackpots…we were a really small group and we gave each other lectures on the European institutions, on what COMECON was, on the beginnings of the GATT—it was the time of the Kennedy Round. These are old memories of course but what I mean is that when you study Sciences Po and law, some did Sciences Po and others did law, others economics, there was a sort of mutual support system. We made contact with other similar groups… There weren’t many at that time because of course there were only six of us countries in Europe at that time, the Belgians, the Germans, the Italians; with the Italians it didn’t work very well. So there was a time when we felt that we were amateurs, we were doing it because we liked it intellectually, but the others, from those other countries, had political ideas and so we moved out of those circles. When Georges arrived in Brussels he had no intention of becoming a journalist, but planned to continue studying. He undertook a stage (work placement) with the European Commission where he met and became friends with Karel Van Miert (Belgian commissioner for Transport, Consumer Protection and Credit and Investment (1990–3), and for competi-tion (1993–2000)), and thereafter he got progressively drawn into journalism, principally in order to support himself. He moved through a number of Brussels’ specialised news agencies (Telex, Agra), became a founding member of Europolitique (see p. 129), and never left Brussels. After having worked freelance for numerous different bodies in the written press and the broadcast media he is now the Brussels correspondent for a national daily, and will therefore have spent his entire life as a journalist in Brussels. The network of mutual contacts formed by this historic ‘hard core’ of young people, each arriving in Brussels with the same aim of understanding what this European institution-building was all about, fulfilled the function, as Georges explains, of mutual support. It meant a steady flow of freelance jobs, and other, non-journalistic spin-off activities,11 which in turn created work and pay that could be passed on to younger colleagues. The help that the veterans were able to bring to their less-experienced colleagues helps to explain the influence of these older men on the way that news was interpreted. In presenting their younger colleagues with the ‘relevant’ contacts on such or such a dossier, in ‘explaining’ what it was all about, these old hands effectively influenced the way in which the new arrivals perceived the information that they were confronted with, and for which they were otherwise poorly prepared:

French relations with the European Union

112

Of all the jobs that you can imagine it’s one of the most complicated because there were lots of things to understand first, that you hadn’t encountered before. If you’re sent to a fire, even a big one, you know what’s happening. But you had to keep up… Very very few press titles were represented. So a sort of core group built up, if you were in this very tight band you got an apprenticeship and help and got to understand things. I know that Henry always tried to get me invited to things and places, if I needed to, for example. So I was helped, for sure, to integrate. (French journalist, specialist and daily regional press) We would be wrong, however, to read into this longevity a deliberate strategy on the part of the journalists whereby, having accumulated the resources they needed to succeed in their job, they were no longer prepared to leave a position in which they had invested so much. It was more often the case that the newspapers for which they wrote refused to let them move on, given the way in which the veterans fitted the bill, as the editors saw it. The cost of replacing a correspondent, in terms of the time it would take to train a new journalist to be as efficient as his predecessor, and in terms of the drop in the quality of information that would initially occur, simply seemed too high, as was explained to us by one journalist working for a national daily, who regretted the fact that he was never offered a way out of Brussels: If you like, the idea is that, simply that you had an excellent address book and an accumulation of knowledge because of the technical nature of EU affairs, knowledge that couldn’t be easily replaced. So [the editor] wanted me to stay. I don’t think that he did me or the paper any favours, actually; I think he was wrong. On the other hand, we also found that for some of these veterans intense feelings of professional and personal satisfaction are the more likely reasons why they stayed in an environment where they felt extremely familiar and, indeed, privileged in comparison with their colleagues back at home in the national capital. They were attracted to a ‘rich’ and ‘multinational’ world where they rubbed shoulders with the ‘best’. These feelings were all the stronger given that, because of their position, they were so well placed to take advantage of these privileges. New national ministers and European commissioners quickly learned from their spokespeople12 that these were journalists ‘who counted’, and so, along with the journalists, they adapted to the informality that so characterises Brussels life. What is more, the variety of subjects to tackle when covering EU news compensates to some degree for the inevitably routine aspects of 20 or 30 years in Brussels. Finally, and above all, while most of these veterans arrived in Brussels with no previous journalistic experience, the position that they occupied, and the subject they reported, grew in importance in parallel with ‘Europe’ itself, ensuring career promotion. In order to understand the parallels between the professional journeys of these journalists and the history of European integration itself we have to remind ourselves of how and where these men began their professional life. They were journalists working for specialist papers, writing only rarely for the big national dailies, who ended up leaving these small-circulation titles to become the accredited correspondent for some of the most

The French press and the Eurepean Union

113

prestigious newspapers in France. This trajectory helps us to understand the comments made by colleagues arriving later on the scene who described these veterans as ‘part and parcel’ of the history (both that of journalism and of the EU) that they share. Having observed European integration over a very long period of time and, above all, having known periods when Europe was nothing like it is today, these veterans owe their entire career to news that has continually grown in volume and significance. From the specialised media to the ‘big’ press In the 1970s a host of specialist media sprang into life in Brussels. These were titles which would play a key role in the career of some of the French correspondents.13 As Yves Conrad has written (Conrad, 1994, p. 127), ‘everything revolved around a handful of individuals who, by virtue of their various initiatives and projects are still, today, at the centre of the Brussels news scene’. Philippe Lemaître is one such case. For 35 years he was the correspondent for Le Monde, having begun by founding the Agra Europe office. Gérard Rousselot was the founder of Europolitique and the Brussels Club,14 along with Marc Paolini (today, correspondent for La Tribune), José-Alain Fralon15 and Xavier Simon, editor for Agra Europe. At the beginning of the 1970s there was notably an influx of young people from the Grenoble Political Studies Institute (see note 9), some of whom were pieds noirs.16 They were very quickly identified within the press corps as the ‘Grenoble group’: [Y]es, it was a group of its own. Amongst these Grenoblois there were many who were pieds noirs, they had all done Sciences Po Grenoble Marcel Scotto, Marc Paolini, José-Alain Fralon. They basically arrived more or less at the same time, there was also Jean-Louis Giraudy who is [at the time of the interview] the Commission’s man in Paris, and who used to be a journalist at Agence Europe. Yes, they all arrived together and they’d all been at Sciences Po Grenoble.17 It was on the initiative of these individuals, or at least with their participation, that a whole set of bodies were created that went on to play an important role for the press corps: the Brussels Club; Europolitique, notably; plus others that were shorter-lived, such as La Lettre européenne published by Philippe Lemaître, José-Alain Fralon and Franco Papitto.18 Others from this small group took on posts of correspondent and undertook much freelance work for the French press, thereby defining the new role of Brussels correspondent. In order to get a better idea of the path that led these young journalists from the specialised media to the most prestigious of national titles, we have taken the case of Philippe Lemaître who was Brussels correspondent for Le Monde and Ouest-France. These are the leading dailies in their respective markets (national and regional). Agra Europe was created in 1958, a subsidiary of Agra France, a news agency specialising in agricultural affairs. Given the significance of agricultural questions to the communities in this period, the late 1950s, it seemed only logical to follow Community news and negotiations in this area. It was Philippe Lemaître, who in 1963, on completing his military service in Germany, opened the Brussels bureau (following the institution’s

French relations with the European Union

114

move from Luxembourg) with no previous journalistic experience whatsoever. Later he worked with François-Henri de Virieu, Le Monde’s agricultural correspondent, and it was thanks to this initial freelance collaboration with the daily that Lemaître ended up as the paper’s Brussels correspondent—once de Virieu stopped wanting to shuttle between Paris and Brussels. Having entered Le Monde through the back door, Lemaître took over de Virieu’s agricultural brief and following the 1973 enlargement of the EEC (to the UK, Denmark and Ireland) was elevated from agricultural correspondent to the paper’s Community journalist. This transition from a narrowly defined post (covering the EEC’s ‘agricultural marathons’) thus occurred more because of the way that the EEC was evolving rather than being due to any strategic redefinition of the role. Once in situ, and thanks to the right resources (especially where his social capital was concerned, such as his networks within the Community institutions and milieu), Lemaître was in a position to take advantage of the growing generality of EEC affairs, ending up finally as the holder of a post that rose and rose in the hierarchy of Le Monde’s ‘international’ desk. These French pioneer correspondents, some of whom are still in Brussels, left a profound and enduring mark on the press corps. They are amongst those who played a role in inventing a post—the Brussels correspondent—that evolved along with the communities themselves. All these journalists crossed one another’s paths; they often worked together in the specialised media referred to above (such as Agra Europe or Telex), and this helped to weld a group identity that still exists 30 years on. It would appear that from these beginnings there was a very strong group feeling amongst the French journalists who, even if the following anecdote is unfounded, impressed colleagues from other countries: There was, I don’t know if it’s still the case but there was a period when the main French journalists, Philippe Lemaître and that lot, the godfathers, there was a little restaurant, nothing exclusive, not at all expensive, a small restaurant, but every day they met there, after the briefing, to discuss it. It was almost like a club where the day’s Community affairs were formally discussed. That was really French, you know. Of course we meet to eat, but we hardly ever talk about work, not seriously in any case. (Interview with a British press agency correspondent) So all members of this group experienced similar conditions and career paths, and shared professional and personal experience; this set them apart from the journalists who arrived on the scene later. Brussels (and before that, Luxembourg) was then a career springboard, not only for young civil servants but also for a whole generation of journalists, especially French, who went on to owe their careers to European integration. Those who previously were just ‘sherpas’ for national press correspondents19 went on to work for prestigious newspapers that they would almost certainly have had no access to otherwise. From their specialist beginnings, these correspondents remained faithful to an approach to Community news which emphasised its most technical aspects. As one of them told us, they were effectively ‘Eurocrats without a Eurocrat’s salary’, since they mastered the various questions and had an extraordinary network which allowed them to grasp all angles of

The French press and the Eurepean Union

115

Community decision-making, including those that required high levels of expertise. The role that they played in the French press and with the correspondents who arrived much later on the scene heavily influenced the way in which the French press covered the EU thereafter. Their approach to the news was technical, rigorous and only accessible to a small elite number, and this was to cause problems with editors for whom Brussels was (and still is) a ‘necessary evil’.

French correspondents: selling the unsaleable How does the European Union get into the news? How does it fit in with editorial strategy and routine? We will see below that some French newspapers now have a special ‘European Union’ page or section. For the vast majority of the French correspondents, however, their lot is to be attached by default to the foreign service of their paper. Journalists in both Paris and Brussels acknowledge that this institutional dependency creates more problems that it solves, and indeed it is an important variable allowing us to understand the specific difficulty that the EU poses for editors. First, each Brussels correspondent is torn between the EU’s own agenda and that imposed on them by the hierarchy that rules their paper’s international service. Second, for those correspondents working out of Paris, the ‘exoticism’ of Community news, actors and processes does not make their job any easier when it comes to ‘selling’ a given EU subject to their editor. The European ‘goodwill’ that exists within the editorial teams (making EU news a ‘rite of passage’, an indicator of ‘modernity’, ‘openness’ and ‘peace’ (Neveu, 2003) for any ‘serious’ title) finds itself in conflict with professional practice which, where international news is concerned, favours themes and stories that are worlds apart from Community information.20 Community ‘exoticism’ Unlike the case of Britain, where journalists have to try to mould Community news into nationally recognisable arguments, French correspondents are faced with a different challenge altogether. They very often have to convince their Paris counterparts that a given article is interesting or, alternatively, that suggestions for articles are in fact inappropriate: I’m on the foreign desk in Paris…on the foreign side there’s a desk that looks after everything, be it China or the EU, depending on my ability to get them interested in EU news, and depending on what space they’ve got. The economic desk is much more straightforward because it’s compartmentalised. The specialist journalists are really easy to convince, they ask for stories. There’s about half a dozen calls per day to the economic and foreign desks. And it’s you that suggests…? Yes, it’s better, better that way. It’s best to stop Paris having ideas. That’s dangerous.

French relations with the European Union

116

Why? They’re crazy. They don’t’ understand anything. No, you have to serve them up a product, a finished idea, and above all avoid… Do you mean that that they don’t understand how it works? No, but they’ve got Parisian ideas. Because they’ve got hold of half a story over dinner the night before, now they want eight sides of paper on goat’s cheese [goat’s cheese being the stereotypical European ‘story’ in the French press!]. (French journalist, national daily press) The feeling that some correspondents have of being the chosen few comes from their impression that their job and its socialisation effects place them amongst those who are ‘at the heart of things’, who are insiders, who ‘know’ the impact that Community decisions have on the life of the member states—decisions that for journalists who have ‘stayed back home’ in the national capitals are all about consequences, not the process itself, on which they (the veterans) alone can pass comment. In stark contrast with the correspondents’ ‘open mindedness’, and their thorough understanding of arcane Community ways, is the incompetence and overly national perspective of their editors, who give priority to declarations by national leaders and who still confuse the Council of Europe with the European Council: The newspaper editors took it all for granted, that if we went to see the minister, he told us what was happening in Europe, but we really had to fight to get Europe in the newspapers. I’m sure that if you talk to Georges from X, he’ll tell you the same, that you really have to fight to get newspaper inches. If you came across someone in person who was passionate about Europe then that was OK. If you were dealing with someone who said ‘Oh, yeah, Brussels, all those Eurocrats, all those incomprehensible things, oh no. All those stories of yours are indigestible. So there’s the Council of Europe in Strasbourg, and then you send everything to the Court in The Hague.’ Well no, it’s not quite like that, actually, it’s not that at all, etc. There is a misunderstanding of Europe in France which is really bad. Europe isn’t taught at school. Classes in…the European institutions should be part of the…OK, an easy version…part of the civic studies curriculum because it affects the daily life of French people every bit as much as the Constitution of the Fifth Republic. But that’s how the newspaper bosses are. They’re like, Europe… Mind you it’s a generation thing, generations change there too, there are some people who have travelled more than others… So there’s a mentality which has been…a mentality…: Europe is foreign policy, end of story. (French journalist, national daily) To the extent that EU news is not seen as being of strategic significance to national editors, these men and women will in fact leave their EU correspondents a wide margin

The French press and the Eurepean Union

117

of manoeuvre in their choice of subjects and angle of view. As one of these correspondents put it: My job was never defined. In fact you really have to see that it’s a bureau that’s like outside the newsroom, so our relations…basically, we do what we like. Meaning that I’m not accountable, or hardly at all. My newspaper doesn’t give me orders…at least it’s rare… Sometimes there are surges of news, you follow it because suddenly everyone’s getting excited about the, say, ‘chocolate’ directive. You can try as hard as you like to say ‘well no actually, there’s still a final reading to go in the European Parliament, and that’s what counts, not the discussion in the Council of Ministers’. So you see things coming up left and right because AFP21 has started to churn out depêche after depêche on the subject. But generally that’s not how it is. So it’s basically us who decide how to handle the news. (French journalist, daily national press) Thus the picture is very different for French journalists than for, say, British correspondents. The French receive scarcely any instructions and are generally left alone to judge the relevance of the information they receive. Of course, there are exceptions, when they are asked to write specific papers based on agency depêches, articles from other newspapers or on conversations had ‘over dinner in town’. If they do not want to write on the subject given then they have to build a case in their defence. As a result, correspondents have devised strategies for reconciling their knowledge of the complexity of the EU with the need to suggest articles and subjects that are likely to be of interest to their editors. So, on the one hand, journalists have to fall into line with the ‘rhythm’ of editorial demands; on the other, they have to find ways to avoid subjects which they know to be unfounded in reality, or to slip in stories that they know to be vital, but whose complexity has to be concealed somehow: [Y]ou can’t just say ‘no’, I don’t want to write a story on that, it’s populist and will give the wrong impression. You have to think about it, find a way to argue your case, make them understand that…when they order a story and say [here our interviewee put on a Parisian accent] ‘yes, you see, the European Commission…the civil servants are on strike, go and see what’s happening, go and see if they’re not ashamed to be behaving like this’ you then have to handle the story as you see fit. So…let’s say that they tend to reflect the lowest common denominator. Often. At least that’s what it’s like when they ask for stories like that. But if you go and check the story out, you realise… and you manage to argue your case and…I mean that you manage to come up with a logical argument and you tell them: ‘this is why your thing doesn’t hold water’, then it’s OK, you get away with it. But you mustn’t, you mustn’t respond by saying ‘no, your thing’s rubbish, it’s no good’. That’s very badly seen… So they call me and I say OK, I’ll go and check it out. So after checking it out if it’s clear that I’m going to have to slap their idea down… Sometimes even it’s when I get the call that I know that their thing isn’t going anywhere but I keep stumm, never

French relations with the European Union

118

say no straight away. I’ll call them back 15 minutes later and say ‘listen, there’s something not quite right in your story’. Do they know…[he interrupts me] No, no. Some, but usually no. You know, the people who ask you for stories are in the news up to their neck all day long but they don’t know their subjects in any depth. I mean, they know what’s happening, superficially. And they just react to a depêche, usually they read the first two or three lines and they call you. Then it’s up to you to argue your case. That’s my role. Do they realise that? No, of course not. Of course they don’t know. (French journalist, national radio) Although these correspondents are relatively free to organise themselves as they see fit, they do then have to manage news that, since it cannot easily be translated into the national political debate (which in France is not structured around the European question, as seen in the earlier chapters in this volume), is reduced to institutional questions whose political aspects (i.e. intra- and inter-institutional battles) are deemed ‘exotic’ and of no interest to readers. ‘We’re not on the same planet’ To further our understanding of relations between French correspondents and their editors we have taken the case of a national daily with both a Brussels correspondent and an individual based in Paris with responsibility for Brussels news on the foreign policy desk of the paper. In order to develop an additional perspective on our subject we asked this Paris-based editor to talk to us about the specific problems that Community news represents for editors. Our interviews make very clear the tensions and contradictions that can arise between a correspondent and his/her editors, between the journalist’s interests and those of a hierarchy faced with different demands, and between the agendas of a Community-based journalist and a Paris-based newspaper. Our interviewee described the ambiguous relationship that pertains between the newspaper and Community news. The newspaper is very wary of institutional matters (‘which hack everyone off’) but still has to relay the main events as followed by the correspondent, without claiming to be exhaustive in its coverage. The disjointed agendas of correspondent and newspaper thus lead to tension between the institutional and political news which could fill the whole paper, and the constraints faced by a desk (foreign policy) which has to follow news happening all over the world: Well, in real terms, I don’t know who could possibly provide exhaustive coverage of EU matters. It’s completely impossible. Except maybe Agence Europe, which we don’t want to be… Well the IGC,22 we’re right slap bang in the middle of it, yeah it’s true that on the IGC alone we could publish one or two stories a week, no problem. Describing the negotiations, where there are problems, what the position of a given country is. OK…but we know that we don’t have the space for it, you

The French press and the Eurepean Union

119

know? …We have to get over the hurdle…people’s fear about these sorts of subjects which are seen as subjects that everyone hates. So it’s pretty obvious with the editor-in-chief, even the foreign desk-editors, before you even get to the editor-in-chief, that you mustn’t do too much on that story. It’s these institutional questions that are really unpopular. So we censure ourselves and try to follow the story at the same time, to give the main points plus here and there a good interview or a dossier for public consumption, when there’s an important deadline coming up in the negotiations. Our interviewee went on to describe her role as the relay for the ‘European cause’ on the international desk, having to decide between the interests of the various correspondents and journalists in charge of different geographical regions. The same woman told us how she is effectively the ‘interface’ between the correspondent and her superiors on the international desk. Her account of her own information sources is revealing in this respect: most of what she reads relates to European news, even though she is part of an editorial team that has other priorities: You know, the job means that I have to read a lot, really a lot. I subscribe to Agence Europe and I read it… I scan it nearly every day to see what the main subjects and headlines of EU news are. Then there’s the Financial Times, the Wall Street Journal and then the Spanish, Italian press to follow the subjects up, and then I also go onto the Commission’s website all the time. It’s true that with Agence Europe I can more or less keep up with what’s going on, on top of the stuff we get sent by the Commission and the European Parliament. So by going through the piles of paper every day I keep myself informed. But it’s true that the stuff doesn’t come ready-prepared, you have to plough through stuff that’s crap, basically [laughter], I don’t know how else to put it. Thus as the journalist who signs the paper’s articles on France’s European policy, our interviewee is torn between the commercial demands of the paper (to maximise sales) and the rigours of a subject that she admits is difficult: It’s true that it’s not a subject… It’s like I was saying about the problems that I had myself in getting into European affairs. It’s a slippery subject. It doesn’t connect. It’s full of jargon: the IGC, pillars, intergovernmentalism, the CFSP. It’s all really abstract, you know. So it’s an effort to write a simple article, to find subjects that are easily understood and then you know that in any case it won’t really sell very well. To do a front page on it means losing I don’t know how many readers, it’s just like that. It’s really hard to give concrete examples and illustrations of EU stories. To illustrate the need for a reform of how the EU functions. It’s really hard. Yeah every now and again he [the Brussels correspondent] says ‘OK, I’ll do it, I’ll explain it and everything’ and then we get stuck into the EU’s tortuous decision-making circuits, the clogged

French relations with the European Union

120

Council of Ministers etc. but it’s not really very lively stuff [laughter]. Even if we try to dumb it down, it doesn’t really happen. She also freely admits that despite being specialised herself in EU matters, she doesn’t share the same interests as the Brussels correspondent: I adore him, we work really well together but at the same time we’re just not on the same planet. But he’s the one on the spot, he’s the one in Brussels. I completely trust his take on what’s going on over there. He’s the one that goes into the press conferences, who knows the Commission ten times better than I do, I rarely go there myself. Thus she finds herself stuck between a correspondent whose ability to ‘sell’ his stories, even the most obscure stories, leads the paper into publishing articles that she knows will only interest a handful of readers, and her bosses at the paper who consider the whole Brussels thing to be far removed from what their readers are interested in. Is he [the correspondent] a good salesman? He’s excellent. He could sell anything [laughter], yeah he sells the Brussels stuff really well, I mean he manages to sell it. He sells it so well that basically we just tell him ‘go on, do it’ and at the end of the day, by midday, we realise that we’ve got too much, and that we’ve commissioned stuff from him that shouldn’t get through. [She then raised the matter of the correspondent’s taste for articles that are ‘out of sync’ or ‘contextual’, which are often scrapped because they’re not closely enough linked to the news itself.] So any subject that’s not red-hot is usually put on hold, where it might rot. One of the ideas that has been considered for bringing EU news out of its technical register and its international page, where it fits less and less well, is to create a special EU page which would allow the papers to focus on what’s special about this institutional and political system. A large number of titles have considered or are still considering the creation of just such an editorial space. The most noteworthy of the experiments is Le Monde which, in creating a daily EU page, has raised the profile and significance of this subject and its staff. Nevertheless, it is important to put Le Monde’s ‘radical’ decision in the context of its very specific readership, which made this decision less costly than would be the case for other titles, particularly in the broadcast media.

Understanding Le Monde’s ‘radical act’ Le Monde’s ‘European Union’ page was created in January 2002. It was the chief component of the editorial reshuffle undertaken in this launch of a new-look Le Monde. François Bonnet, foreign desk editor, explained at the time of the launch of the EU pages that ‘EU affairs need specific treatment and will get it in an editorial space that is to be

The French press and the Eurepean Union

121

found every day at the end of the “International” pages, just before the “France” section.’23 The decision to insert the new page between foreign and domestic news was thus clearly presented as recognition of the ‘specific’ characteristics of EU news. Bonnet, moreover, himself head of the paper’s foreign policy desk, assigned to the EU pages (and to the Brussels bureau) goals which differed from those of the typical foreign correspondent: ‘By dissecting the functioning of these new sites of power, Le Monde is proposing to guarantee that European political life is covered to the same extent as national politics.’ News that shook the paper’s internal hierarchy With the arrival of a fourth journalist24 in Brussels, the bureau there, for the first time, counted more correspondents than Le Monde had in the USA.25 Brussels thus became the paper’s principal ‘foreign’ posting. Nevertheless, the page dedicated to EU news does not limit itself to output from the Brussels correspondents alone. Instead, it counts on the paper’s various correspondents throughout Europe who are invited to interpret and relay EU news through the lens of whichever member state or candidate country26 they work from. In this way, ‘EU news’ is defined and represented in broad terms by this new page. Hence, beyond the EU’s own institutional news, the page covers information from the geographical zone that comprises the EU (member states and candidate countries), as well as bilateral questions with European significance (typically, the future of the FrancoGerman ‘couple’). Nevertheless, the ‘umbilical cord’ has not been cut entirely with the newspaper’s foreign desk. The journalists from the Brussels bureau still answer to the chief of the ‘international’ desk. Several journalists, moreover, from Le Monde and other titles, before and at the time of the launch of the new EU page, noted the tensions that the initiative brought about. One journalist talked about the differences of opinion within Le Monde itself: I myself was against… Because if I think of the paper’s ‘Regions’ page, I don’t like reading it, I discard it. I said to myself that the EU page would be the same, that I would have a mental block over Europe. It’s not that Europe’s boring but I thought it would be much better to put…It would have been better if pressure had come from the top, from management, so that all the desks and services…r example ‘culture’, there’s loads of stuff in the culture page, ‘economy’ …it wouldn’t really have been a problem for the economy pages, or international news, or the ‘business’ pages. But it would have been for the rest, it would have been a problem, for pressure to have come from the top for more Europe, systematically more Europe. But it’s true that already it’s not easy to have an EU page like that, it means that the person in charge of the page, that’s Leparmentier here in Brussels, with Bonnet in Paris, Bonnet and Bresson…they have to work to fill it every day. The Brussels bureau and the guys who do that in Paris, the guys in the capitals who are asked to write about Brussels, it’s not easy. And to do it for the paper as a whole is even harder.27

French relations with the European Union

122

Others, however, were of the opinion that this was a ‘radical act’ on the part of the paper, which was displaying its decision to prioritise EU news using commercial criteria that generally downgrade EU news: I mean, giving more space to Europe in the pages of Le Monde is pretty radical in terms of thinking about the role played by Europe, and its significance. Well. So it assumes that sometimes there are subjects that are not particularly strong in terms of Europe, or that compete with what’s happening in the Middle East or the American elections, but that we give space to nonetheless because we consider that these are questions that are on the way up, even if they don’t stand out, measured in terms of pure newsworthiness. So there you are, but the choices that are made every day by the foreign news team, as in every team, are guided by events. By this kind of imperialism of the fastest-moving news, which takes priority.28 By questioning the ‘very compartmentalised culture’29 of the paper, this new page raised the issue of the extent of the Brussels bureau’s autonomy from the Paris editors, and in particular from the foreign desk. The idea that a bureau could have editorial responsibility, such as to organise its own page by commissioning articles from the paper’s network of European correspondents, effectively challenged the paper’s internal hierarchy. By effectively severing the international desk from a large chunk of its content and in short-circuiting, de facto, the usual hierarchy and decision-making chains inside the paper, the creation of the new page and the bolstering of the strength of the Brussels agency shook the foundation of Le Monde’s internal organisation. One journalist, before the page was launched, explained: [T]here is still dead wood in the organisation. There’s also a historical tradition in the International section to keep control of international and so European news. At the same time the people working on EU affairs have to be attached to one desk or another. Personally I dream of there being a dedicated European Union entity, a kind of desk within a desk. But we’re not there yet. We’re not there. In the end a compromise was found. The ‘European Union’ page has remained under the authority of the foreign service, in liaison with the journalist (Henri de Bresson) in charge of EU affairs in Paris. Overall, the creation of the new page has revealed the many different problems that Community news creates for editors. Its status is ambiguous—it is neither national, nor foreign, nor generalist, nor specialist—and thus disturbs the paper’s page and organisational structures, such as they have taken shape over time.30 The initiative is also significant for what it reveals about the paper’s economic and editorial criteria, despite the fact that Le Monde has sought to minimise their relevance in this case, preferring instead to present its decision as a radical act. Indeed, in order fully to grasp the decision taken by Le Monde to give more space to Community news, we should put the new page in perspective. Since we have already said that those titles and media which are most heavily involved in attracting the widest possible readership or audience have tried to avoid EU affairs, we can only understand Le

The French press and the Eurepean Union

123

Monde’s editorial strategy of embracing a news field reputed to be ‘difficult’ and ‘dull’ if we place it squarely in the context of the paper’s readership. In this way we seek to balance the notion that the new page was a ‘radical act’, as Le Monde itself and some of its journalists maintain, with the idea that there was equally an economic and editorial rationale behind the experiment, the two angles being complementary and not contradictory. We will see that Le Monde’s readership displays very specific social characteristics (particularly because of the over-representation of its professional and executive (cadre) readers) with specific attitudes towards the European Union. A readership made to measure France’s national daily press has very few readers (three out of every four French people never read a national daily31), and those that it does have are very strongly typified in terms of their social background: The level of studies is the factor most closely linked to readership of the national press, whether daily or weekly. Nearly a third of those with a higher degree (2 years after A-levels, bac+2 or above) read a daily national at least twice a week, in contrast to only 5% of those without a degree. (Dumartin and Maillard, 2000, p. 1) This figure is reversed in the case of the regional press (71 per cent of those with a CAP or BEP32 read the regional press as against 48 per cent of those with higher qualifications), but is closely correlated to the geographical concentration of the more qualified. Executives (cadres) and professionals (who only account for one-quarter of the French population) represent nearly half of the readership of the national dailies, and onethird of the readership of magazines… These two media forms between them appeal to a readership that is strongly socially marked for profession, life-style, cultural and educational baggage, and family tradition. (Dumartin and Maillard, 2000, p. 2) The ‘executive’ readership, which is very attractive to the dailies for the advertising revenue that they represent, is thus highly over-represented within the readership of the national daily press. This is a well-known fact, and is relevant to our inquiry in that it relates to other factors arising from the interests of this particular population, and the place that Le Monde occupies in the reading choices of this social group. Another study (IPSOS, 2001) allows us to define the interest that this population of ‘executive’ readers has for international questions, including EU affairs. Forty-four per cent of executives (IPSOS, 2001, p. 16) consider themselves interested in international politics (which nevertheless

French relations with the European Union

124

comes in fifth place after sport, travel, national politics and entertainment). Amongst this 44 per cent, one-half (50 per cent) say that they use the national daily press for information (a far cry from the 24 per cent of those who use the daily regional press for this purpose, or 36 per cent for news magazines such as Le Nouvel Observateur, L’Express). Only the national news gets a higher score. But it is the TV and radio which remain the media that are the most used for information on international news (69 per cent and 65 per cent respectively). Thus, regarding the written press, the national daily titles are in a dominant position with executive and professional readers where international (and also national and economic) news is concerned. Turning now to the daily press in general, and to Le Monde in particular, the significance to the daily of covering proportionately more EU affairs becomes obvious. The market share, amongst all executive readers, of Le Monde-Le Figaro-Libération-Les Echos-Le Journal du Dimanche was 27.1 per cent in 2001 (IPSOS, 2001, p. 26), and rising further up the executive ‘tree’ its readers are: 32.1 per cent for senior executives and 37.4 per cent for ‘influential decision-makers’. Even amongst the four national dailies, Le Monde is the most read title: 12.7 per cent (7.4 per cent and 6.5 per cent for Le Figaro and Libération respectively). Only Les Echos competes with Le Monde amongst the senior-ranked executives: amongst executives overall it only accounts for 10.8 per cent of readers, but amongst senior-level executives this figure is 13.4 per cent, and is 18.4 per cent for the most ‘influential decision-makers’—even though overall only 6 per cent of executives inform themselves of international news through the generalist economic press (IPSOS, 2001, p. 16). Le Monde is thus in a dominant position amongst an executive readership in offering information on international news, in comparison with its direct competitors, Le Figaro and Libération. As a result, its international pages assume a strategic importance when positioning the paper on the market. The decision to create an EU page therefore occurred in a context where a significant proportion of the readership had demonstrated a pronounced interest for the international aspects of the news, and the decision itself reinforces Le Monde’s position as a preferred source of such news and information. Given the ill-defined status of ‘Community news’, it is worth recalling the attitudes of this readership group towards European questions. Socio-economic indicators and support for the EU One of the best-documented aspects of French public attitudes towards Europe is that ‘the more privileged one’s social status, the more favourable one is towards European integration… Being privileged in terms of culture, income or social status translates in virtually all member states into a more favourable disposition towards the European Union’ (Cautrès, 2000, p. 216). This reality is reflected in the fact that there is a gap of 23 per cent between the percentage of manual workers and that of senior executives, across all 15 EU member states, who support European integration. Similarly, and again across all member states, the duration of one’s studies seems to be a major factor determining one’s level of support for Europe. Support for the EU is thus closely correlated to socioeconomic indicators. This is as true of the French case as of the EU15 overall. In France, the highest proportion of people expressing a favourable opinion towards European integration is to be found amongst those who have studied the longest; the same also

The French press and the Eurepean Union

125

holds for those with the highest incomes. Cautrès’s findings at the EU level therefore apply to the French case as well, confirming Reynié that, in relation to the single currency, the enthusiasm of the EU’s social elites towards the euro and European integration in general is in stark contrast with a marked concern amongst the lower social classes. The opinion of the French regarding the euro is similar to that of the French regarding Europe in general: the higher the social class, the level of study etc., the more favourable the opinion. (Reynié and Cautrès, 2001, p. 238) In response to the EuroPQN survey, Le Monde wrote: taken as a proportion of the French population aged 15 and over, Le Monde readers come in particular from a pool of decision-makers: 39% of Le Monde readers belong to a household whose head is a senior executive (against 16% of the population as a whole). Nearly one reader in four is themselves a senior executive. Le Monde readers are also characterised by their youth and their qualifications: 66% have undertaken higher education (against 26% of the total population), and 33% are less than 35 years old. Le Monde is the favourite newspaper amongst the teaching professions (over 150,000 of them are Le Monde readers), and with students (310,000 readers). (Le Monde, 2002, p. 29) Le Monde’s readership thus maps very closely onto the contours of those French people who are most interested in and favourable to Europe. Moreover, these aspects of its readership are replicated beyond France itself. A study commissioned by the International Herald Tribune33 of a population of ‘decision-makers’ (from major companies, diplomatic corps, international organisations, the European Commission, the European Parliament, and ministerial cabinets) found that Le Monde came second amongst the most read daily papers (26 per cent), closely behind the Financial Times (32 per cent), and far exceeding the figure (14 per cent) for the only other French daily that was cited (Libération). From either the French or EU perspective, therefore, Le Monde’s decision to create a ‘European Union’ page seems particularly apposite in terms of its direct national competitors, and in relation to its strategy aiming to rival the Financial Times amongst European elite readers. Le Monde’s EU page presented a serious challenge to the paper’s habits and organisational routines. The fact that it undertook such a challenge in full knowledge of the costs and problems that it would incur is explained only by considering this economic rationale alongside the paper’s own account of a decision driven by the paper’s European ‘commitment’.

Conclusions

French relations with the European Union

126

This commitment, by France’s ‘big evening daily’, thus has its own economic logic, making the editorial decision to introduce an EU page a rational choice. With few exceptions—Ouest-France, France’s most popular regional daily has a very active policy in this respect—France’s most popular media (TV, radio, regional press, weekly press) have made very different choices. Most of them have not considered it useful or relevant to send a journalist to Brussels to follow Community news on a daily basis. Given the very low circulation figures of France’s national daily newspapers, this fact gives rise to serious problems regarding the legitimacy of the EU and its institutions. Given that a very significant majority of French people receive only marginal information about the EU, the EU is functioning and reaching decisions in a climate of misunderstanding rather than ignorance. It would be to overestimate the power of journalists to suggest that they are key players in the legitimation of the EU; there are other processes within French political parties, ministries and administrations which account for the marginalisation of the EU in French political life. Journalists may well hold little sway over such eminently political phenomena, but they suffer the consequences daily. In the absence of any real politicisation of the European question in France, and because in particular Europe has little impact on the French party system (see Flood and Startin earlier in this volume), French journalists are at a loss, obliged to present Community news without reference to the usual political markers, and standing accused of ‘going native’ should they simply relate the struggles and politics that unfold daily before their eyes in Brussels.

Notes 1 Since we are talking here principally about men—those interviewed were all men, with the exception of the female editor. 2 A de facto monopoly since these French correspondents were in the past and are now very few in number (compared with other nationalities), and each work for more than one title. 3 Here the problem of sources raises its head. Whereas the literature on the UK and the EU is relatively abundant, including in the French language (Alexandre-Collier, 2002; Schnapper, 2000), and dates back some time (de la Serre, 1987), there is no single generic work on the case of France. The one title (Gerbet, 1995) is, revealingly, a reader bringing together the sparse work in the field. Similarly, there is no literature on the history of European affairs in the French press. The only work that we could consult was a History Masters dissertation (Serres, 1998), but it focuses on a limited time period and on one title only. Since the goal of this chapter is not to provide a historical account of the trajectories taken by the British or French press on the European question, we have had to rely on information found in works not written specifically on our theme, of which those cited above. 4 This chapter is drawn from my Ph. D. thesis on the manner in which EU current affairs is produced in the French and British press (‘La production de l’actualité communautaire. Elements d’une sociologie du corps de presse accrédité auprès de l’Union européenne (France/Grande Bretagne)’. Thèse de science politique. Institut d’études politiques de Rennes, November 2003, 730 pages). The data was collected via in-depth interviews with press correspondents from these two EU member states. In this chapter we have focused on the career trajectories of these journalists. Given the small size of the group (30 people) we applied the rule of anonymity—the names given to the speakers are therefore fictitious. The approach followed in the thesis was comparative (Franco-British), but for the purposes of this chapter we have limited ourselves to the French case, although we refer to the British case where the contrast is particularly striking. Indeed, Britain presents a mirror image of the French case; in Britain, the press is highly politicised, especially on European questions, and

The French press and the Eurepean Union

127

British politics is divided over Europe. British correspondents are thus in a very different situation to their French counterparts since they are faced with the constant task of interpreting EU matters through the lens of what is happening in London, and particularly Westminster. On these differences, see Baisnée (2002). 5 On 16 March 1999 the Commission, presided by Jacques Santer, resigned following a period when individual commissioners, and above all Edith Cresson, had been exposed to accusations in the press of nepotism and cronyism. 6 Five French journalists and two British counterparts (one of whom is a stringer—a nonpermanent foreign correspondent). 7 Our aim here is not to uphold an instrumentalist vision of these routines and practices which benefit certain people. It is precisely the resources concerned their structure, their type— which have sustained these positions over time. 8 ‘Activist’ here translating membership in the French vie associative—non profit-making, special interest groups recognised by the French state and which form part of the fabric of French civil society. Weisbein, in the following chapter, explores the European activities of the vie associative. 9 One of a small network of prestigious French higher educational establishments of political studies. 10 ‘Group’ meaning here une association—see note 8. 11 As related by José-Alain Fralon in his book (in Bastin, 2001, p. 171). 12 From an interview with the press attaches of some of the national representations, and with Commission spokespeople. 13 For the history of these titles, see Bastin (2003). 14 The Brussels Club organised conferences which brought together personalities from Community circles. It also contributed to the drafting of Community documents. It allowed many correspondents to supplement their living by organising these conferences and writing the reports, as the following journalist told us: ‘Yeah, I worked there for ten years. There was a friend, Gérard Rousselot, Gérard Rousselot-Payet who, who organised conferences. It worked really well and I was there to run the conferences, like others. It worked well, really well. I worked for these conferences and also had to supervise some of the studies, that was one of the freelance jobs I did, we sold studies.’ (Interview with a French journalist, national daily press.) 15 Fralon was the Brussels correspondent of Agra-Presse (1969–74), the Matin de Paris (1977– 83) and then Le Monde (1985–92), whose Europe desk he joined in Paris. He was also Le Monde’s correspondent in Moscow (1992–4) before joining Le Monde’s international desk where he became one of the daily’s senior reporters in 1997 (source: Biographies de la presse, 2001). 16 Pieds noirs is the name for the former French settlers of Algeria who left at the time of Algerian independence in 1962 and settled in France. 17 Interview with a French journalist from a national daily. 18 Today, correspondent for La Repubblica. 19 Interview with a former spokesperson for the Commission. 20 See Marchetti (2002) on the question of international reporting, and how it has changed. 21 Agence France Presse. 22 Intergovernmental conference. 23 L’Europe au quotidien, Le Monde, Supplement ‘Le Monde’, 2002, 14 January 2002. 24 In January 2003 Thomas Ferenczi joined the Brussels bureau, taking its numbers to five. 25 Three: two in New York and one in Washington. 26 These candidate countries, which joined the EU on 1 May 2004, were Cyprus, Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Poland, Slovakia and Slovenia. 27 Interview with a French journalist. 28 Interview with a French journalist.

French relations with the European Union

128

29 Interview with a French journalist. 30 Here again we refer to Sandrine Lèvêque’s thesis for a further example of innovation in specialised journalism (Lévêque, 1996). 31 Whereas two out of three are readers, at least sometimes, of the daily regional press. 32 CAP: Certificat d’aptitude professionnelle; BEP: Brevet d’étudies professionnelles. These are vocational qualifications for school-leavers who do not go on to take the baccalauréat. 33 ‘“Le Monde”, deuxième quotidien le plus lu des décideurs en Europe’, Le Monde, 16 November 2000.

8 La vie associative and the state Unequal partners in the French debate on Europe Julien Weisbein

A growing volume of work within the literature of European integration has ceased to see its subject solely as a phenomenon in its own right, or as a source of structural change in national political systems. Instead, it has focused on the agents and actors that drive European integration, or are subjected to it. This is a sociological approach which conceives of Europe in terms of the resources that it offers and the constraints that it imposes on the activities of evermore diverse social groups. This is a perspective that in particular offers insights into how such groups can be instrumentalised, even co-opted, in local, national and EU-level politics (Guiraudon, 2000; Georgakakis, 2002; Pasquier and Weisbein, 2004), and which invites us to examine the boundaries of what a ‘political Europe’ could be. In this chapter we will examine the extent to which the French vie associative1 has adopted ‘Europe’ as a means of updating its role and status in national political life. Since the end of the 1980s, the EU has indeed given serious thought to the status of associations (and other forms of organisation within civil society), in terms of their relations with national and EU-level institutions, and their internal modus operandi. The Single Market, and the emergence of an increasingly integrated European space, has challenged the structures of the associative sector, and fragmented its traditionally statecentred activities, the construction of a supranational stratum of power having diverted many of these actors away from national reference points and onto the road to Brussels. It was above all the emergence of the ‘European citizen’ from the Treaty of Maastricht (1992) that raised the possibility for associations to become legitimate and salient actors in the integration process itself, alongside the member states, Community institutions, and other organised groups present on the Brussels scene. Given this context, we ask below whether these associative bodies are effectively acting as ‘European entrepreneurs’, facilitating France’s relations with the EU, or indeed whether any reticence in doing so simply reflects the hesitations that we find in the French political class itself towards the challenges posed by Europe to French influence and identity. We will see that it is in the institutional debate surrounding any federal-type future for the EU that it is hardest for French associations to influence French policy towards Europe, and that where associations are involved in European questions their activities amount just as much to a functional quest for EU resources as to any manifestation of the will to build a coherent socio-political entity at the European level.

The uneven Europeanisation of the French associative network

French relations with the European Union

130

By the ‘Europeanisation’ of French associations we mean the process whereby these groups transport their activities beyond the national framework and into the Brussels galaxy, and which transforms the social context in which these organisations are embedded. The extent to which associations project themselves in European terms depends on a number of factors. These may be internal to the organisation (available resources; scope for reallocating these resources towards EU-level activity; existence of transnational structures), or external (the political opportunity structure that the EU may or may not offer; potential obstacles at the national political level). Exploring the likelihood of these associative groups developing a European dimension (via cases of success and failure) thus allows us to analyse two particular aspects of our subject. First, establishing the type of resources required for such activity and the obstacles that can exist should offer insights into the social and political conditions under which Europeanisation occurs amongst these actors; second, we hope to discover how the European question can accelerate, hinder or generate the dynamics of change regulating the relative status of various actors within French political life. As in other member states, France’s estimated 700,000 associations have been increasingly faced with the erosion of intra-EU borders and the inevitability of a European aspect to their work and strategy. To a considerable extent the phenomenon of Europeanisation is largely invisible here, principally because of the absence of statistics which could objectively quantify it.2 It is nevertheless possible to attempt to measure the extent to which French associations are integrated into European networks by means of the listings of interest groups published by the European Commission, in which we can count the French members.3 Thus it would appear that in 1996, across all sectors and types of activity, nearly 600 French associations or interest groups were affiliated to a network recognised by the EU’s institutions. This was low compared to the total number of French associations, or federations of associations, and also in comparison with other national associative sectors, particularly British and German, which were more firmly implanted in Europe’s capital city. It would therefore appear that the French case is typified by a very low level of awareness on the part of France’s associations of the significance of the European dimension and, conversely, by the high salience of the European context in the pursuit of their activities. When measured purely from the angle of the activities that they pursue, we see a fluid, fragmented and relatively informal sector, for which it is hard to detect an overall pattern of Europeanisation. One way of getting around this methodological obstacle is to look at those groups which take on the role of organising some sort of collective action (Boltanski, 1982) on behalf of others. A hard core composed of a small number of groups and associations effectively works to Europeanise other associations, lending them technical expertise, or encouraging them with ideological arguments. From an analytical point of view, thus, it seems more fruitful to analyse the attempts of French associations to Europeanise their activities less in terms of these individual groups’ particular interests than as a case study of those groups that have set themselves up as ‘European entrepreneurs’, and as such work to enrol other associations into a particular conception of European integration. Seen even from this perspective, French associations are very unevenly involved in European questions. There are considerable disparities across sectors and, within a given sector, between the groups themselves. We find that there is effectively a sub-sector of associations that has sprung up since the 1980s, specialising in various questions linked

La Vie associative and the state

131

to European integration, which effectively demonstrates how certain groups enjoy a virtual monopoly in this context; a monopoly that in turn endows these groups with additional influence in their original sector of activity. The centrality of these groups derives mainly from the length of time during which they have turned their attention to European questions (for most, since the beginning of the 1990s4), but also depends on certain other factors. First is the number and variety of networks within which they are integrated at the European level (these are essentially the Comité européen des associations d’intérêt general, CEDAG (the European Council for Voluntary Organisations), the Euro-Citizens’ Action Service (ECAS), the Forum permanent de la société civile and Solidar (Weisbein, 2002, 2003)). A second factor is their relative position more generally in their national associative context (number of members or sections, the prestige of their leaders, the extent of their recognition by public authorities, their organisational resources, etc.).5 For example, the Union nationale interfédérale des organismes privés sanitaires et sociaux (UNIOPSS) is without a doubt one of the national federations that is the most specialised in Europe in France, this being a function of its early commitment to European affairs (from the early 1990s), its membership of numerous networks based in Brussels, including those that lie outside its specific area of competence (such as the European Anti-Poverty Network, Plateforme des ONG du secteur social, CEDAG, ECAS, Forum permanent de la société civile), its size, and its status with French public authorities. The Ligue de l’enseignement (LDE), in 1997, equally mobilised its sizeable national network (which includes the Cercles Condorcet, the Federations des Oeuvres laïques, and others) in a collective evaluation of the meaning of European integration; this particular associative entity has also integrated itself into Solidar, and the Fédération humaniste européenne, the latter of which exists to defend the principle of laïcité (secularism) in Europe. Even so, the LDE’s turn to Europe came late in the day, and is inconsistent, a fact explained only by the heavy hand of its national culture and history. A final example is the Ligue des droits de l’homme (LDH) which also came to Europe late (not until 1999), but which has gone some way to compensate for this late start by virtue of its prestige, and also its ability, in 2000, to rally other civil society associations in France around the EU’s Charter of Fundamental Rights.6 Over and above this disparity amongst French associations in relation to Europe, we can more generally identify two main patterns governing the European activities of these groups: a functional model—the most common—where Europe is simply a context, or instrument, for their aims; and the political model, where Europe may well be a cause in its own right. The functional model: ‘Europe’ as a national resource Here, Europeanisation (or not) is a question of strategy. The calculation arises from the perceived necessity to act on a greater scale than the national level can offer, either because the scope of the association’s work has itself internationalised, or because of the impact of the Single Market, or finally because there are financial gains to be had from the EU. In these cases, the political or ideological dimensions of the EU are incidental in comparison with either, for example, more practical considerations for the associations’ activity (such as the Euro, school exchanges, the management of a Community programme) or, sometimes, they are more concerned with cultural questions (languages,

French relations with the European Union

132

folklore) than with the institutional aspects of European integration which could affect their work. Here, an association’s European-level activity has the specific objective of raising resources—finance, expertise, networks—which will have currency in the national context. These are strategies for reaching national goals by international means, by virtue of the additional resources and instruments to be had at the supranational level. This form of involvement thus takes very specific forms: bids for Community funds, participation in Community projects and programmes, and learning to play these particular games. Such developments coincide with the contractualist trends in public management (Gaudin, 1999), whereby public policy-making networks have become increasingly open to new actors, including from la vie associative, with the effect that these actors have in turn become increasingly professionalised, learning to speak the language of ‘projects’ (Boltanski and Chiapello, 1999). A good French example here are the Maisons de l’Europe which, throughout the 1990s, sought to play the role of a ‘roof’ under which were coordinated the activities of disparate Europe-related groups in thirty or so French towns. Les Maisons can thus be seen to have increased their involvement in Europe as a way of reinforcing their position in national and local contexts (Mischi and Weisbein, 2004). Here, Europeanisation equates with professionalisation, and principally takes the form of the circulation of information made available by French and EU public authorities. Following the referendum on the Maastricht Treaty in 1992, these national and EU-level bodies in fact granted les Maisons a greater role as information relays (a function generally contracted out—and handsomely subsidised—to administrative bodies seeking European expertise such as prefectures, Sources d’Europe,7 rectorats and other public agencies specialised in youth and education). By becoming part of these official European information networks, les Maisons became increasingly professional in their activities, for example making far greater use than before of technical expertise and savoir-faire, since les Maisons circulate practical information on European integration, with no comment on the political or ideological contexts of this information. Some maisons (Avignon, Toulouse, Nîmes, Beaucaire) have been able to build up teams of paid, full-time employees who between them cover a variety of roles, from secretarial to the hard and time-consuming administrative graft of compiling EU bids, or working with people in the field, and circulating information. Voluntary work as such has therefore become less common, replaced by salaried activities, and a whole array of specialists, including documentalists, webmasters, writers, accountants, animateurs (managers), teachers, and translators. Managers in particular are required to familiarise themselves with many aspects of European integration, especially the legal side, and to acquit themselves in the new information and communications technologies. Frequently, such individuals are also coopted into the EU’s own networks of experts to spread the good news from Europe (such is the case of the European Commission’s ‘Team Europe’8); or they may be asked to lend their expertise to a variety of other organisations (other associations, companies, local authorities) involved in EU projects, in particular to help with EU bids. Overall then, the Maisons de l’Europe are increasingly playing the role of consultant and expert for other local associations, whom they assist in compiling bids and finding foreign partners for transnational events and programmes. By means of this concentration of European expertise and documentary resources, les Maisons play a strategic role which is of particular importance for those associations which do not have their own interface in

La Vie associative and the state

133

Brussels, and which has contributed to the development of a local marketplace of European expertise (Guerin Lavignotte, 2002). The political model: Europe as a cause in its own right Despite the fact that the functional model dominates the French associations’ involvement with Europe, it has left room for another pattern of Europeanisation, whereby associations deem European integration to be a political cause in its own right, more or less independent of the national context. We thus see cases where certain actors from the vie associative entertain the hope of influencing French policy towards the EU in their own image. Where this modus operandi is concerned, a first significant case is that of the recognition by the EU of voluntary associations’ specific place and role, and, correspondingly, the definition of a European Association statute. This relates to EU policy driven in the early 1990s by the Commission and the European Parliament, with the aim of equipping the associative sector with legal instruments that would facilitate its formal recognition. (This took the form of the European Association Statute directive drafted by the European Parliament, and the Council of Europe’s Convention on the Legal Recognition of International non-governmental organisations (Anheier and Kendall, 1999; Smismans, 2002).) In France these developments were relayed back to the associative sector by the Conseil national de la vie associative (CNVA—National Council of the Associative Sector). This body is made up of association leaders, is coopted by the prime minister’s office, and plays the role of bringing together the associative sector and the public authorities. Throughout the entire 1990s, the CNVA threw itself into EU questions with the express aim of influencing French governmental policy towards the EU with regard to the associative sector, and harmonising this national activity with the work that was being done at the supranational level, particularly by the CEDAG (Weisbein, 2002). We can make three observations at this point. First, the CNVA was able to take advantage of the many overlaps between different associative networks, and of the fact that many of the Council’s members belonged simultaneously to several EU-level bodies, including CEDAG, the Fonda (see p. 152), or the Conference permanente des coordinations associatives (CPCA). Second, the Council concentrated its activity on certain particularly salient moments of the EU’s life (such as the intergovernmental conferences of 1990–1 and, in particular, of 1996), not the French political agenda. Third, however, this lobbying met for a considerable length of time with French government resistance, demonstrating here the weight of the national context, and of factors specific to the way in which the French state works. Indeed, the French government had for many years refused to sign the Council of Europe’s Convention on the grounds of security (the need to prevent terrorist or sectarian groups from sheltering behind these associative structures) and financial protection (preventing the flight of capital from France). Within the French associative sector itself, the task of raising and maintaining awareness of the significance of the Community dimension was in large part the work of la Fonda, a ‘1901’ association created in 1981 with the aim of facilitating the recognition and promotion of the associative sector in France. In its European awareness role, it was thus an early precursor of the inter-sectoral groupings that emerged in the late 1980s

French relations with the European Union

134

(such as CPCA and le Groupement national associatif pour l’économie sociale) in France. La Fonda set itself up as a think-tank for debate between group leaders and the public authorities, concerning the whole associative idea. La Fonda’s role in Europeanising the French associative sector has been threefold. First, it has operated as the principal national relay for the output of CEDAG. Second, it has been responsible for the dissemination of information on European affairs, and has provided training on these matters; third, it has organised coalitions of associations on European questions. This is work that has proven extremely costly in terms of time and energy, but which has allowed Fonda’s leaders, by means of the mutual support networks so typical of la vie associative, to develop and consolidate their relations with other key actors (in the state, in politics, amongst associations) on the subject of Europe, to the point where Fonda occupies a central position within the many different networks involved in the European dimension of la vie associative.9 We must, however, be wary of drawing artificial distinctions between the contributions of these different bodies—the CNVA, UNIOPSS, Fonda—and other groups. What has counted the most in officially bringing proposals on Europe to the attention of French government is the work of certain individuals, over and above their organisation. These are people who by virtue of belonging simultaneously to several different bodies and structures—of being familiar with technical questions (such as the legal and financial status of the ‘European association’)—have participated in all national initiatives aimed at achieving EU recognition for the associative sector.10 These operations have had some success. France finally ratified the Convention of the Council of Europe on the recognition of the legal status of International Non-governmental Organisations on 18 December 1998 (law no. 98–1166 published on 17 March 2000); and, following the 1999 Assises de la vie associative, associations were able to make their voice heard during the preparations for the French presidency of the EU in the second half of 2000 to the extent that some of the presidency priorities echoed the demands of France’s European associations (for example, Fonda, CNVA, UNIOPSS), such as the strengthening of the EU’s social cohesion, the fight against social exclusion, the adoption of the Charter of Fundamental Rights at the Nice summit, and the successful conclusion of the IGC. Another way in which these groups, especially the Fonda, have contributed to the Europeanisation of French associations more generally is through the setting up and maintaining of a number of platforms and coalitions relating to European themes, usually political, or linked to the agenda of EU institutional reform. Such initiatives have demonstrated the growth of a more politicised modus operandi, whereby more technical and functional questions have been complemented by concerns regarding the ethics and politics of European integration. Here, the work of certain associations whose objective is to influence France’s European policy, and to raise awareness of the EU amongst the French themselves, has taken a political turn above and beyond the associations’ own intrinsic aims. A particularly good example of these developments is the case of the Carrefour des associations pour une Europe civique et sociale (CAFECS), created in 1997 following the report of the Committee of Wise Men for a Europe of Civil and Social Rights (Comité des sages, 1996). This is a working group set up inside Fonda, which brings together those association leaders most closely involved in the questions of civil and social rights

La Vie associative and the state

135

arising from European citizenship in order to make collective and operational proposals to the relevant public authorities. Specifically, CAFECS is the face of a very unified movement amongst French associations, in that it has brought together the various modes of operation (thematic, inter-sectorial, political, functional) that characterise the European associative movement (Weisbein, 2000, pp. 59–64). CAFECS does present a certain ambiguity regarding its position in the French vie associative in that it does not set out formally to ‘represent’ the various associations; nor does it draw its legitimacy from this base, speaking in their name or acting as their official interface with the public authorities. Instead, it sees itself as a think-tank and as a forum where consensus can be reached on EU matters, and which brings together representatives from both the main French associations in the national policy sectors of civil and social rights and welfare (UNIOPSS, CCOMCEN,11 LDH, etc.), and from those political associations and thinktanks which specialise in European affairs (le Mouvement européen,12 l’Union pour une Europe fédérale,13 Europe 99,14 and Confrontations15). We should also note the fact that CAFECS works mainly for government bodies, and desires to be fully involved in French-EU affairs. Thus, as a meeting point for joint associative demands, le Carrefour also functions as a pressure group aiming to influence France’s European policy. This is largely a function of its leadership: including, from the outset, a number of MEPs and political leaders, including some, such as Elisabeth Guigou and Martine Aubry, who subsequently went on to fill ministerial roles in France’s ‘plural left’ government from 1997 to 2002. In later years, a number of Carrefour’s permanent members (Pervenche Bérès, Charles Fiterman, Jean-Baptiste de Foucauld) also occupied key posts in French institutions and politics,16 from where they had access to numerous different networks. The most significant of these was in the Ministry of European Affairs, and in particular the cabinet of Pierre Moscovici, France’s former European minister (1997–2002). Thus between 1997 and 2002, le Carrefour was successful in compiling a corpus of texts and proposals based around a certain ethic and institutional ideal for the EU. It transmitted back to France the various controversies and negotiations on the subject of European civil rights (the debate opened by the 1996 Intergovernmental Conference, taken up by the drafting of the Charter of Fundamental Rights; the work of the Convention on the European Constitution; the role of the Forum permanent de la société civile and other political entrepreneurs involved in what is called a ‘European civil society’ (Weisbein, 2003)); and equally participated in these debates, to which it brought a French perspective. By establishing parity between the question of social rights on the one hand and civil rights on the other, the CAFECS defined the core issues as it saw them in the debate on the future of Europe—namely, the need to restart Europe on the basis of a humanist, fair and democratic society; and the institutional and political measures necessary to tackle this agenda (the definition and constitutionalisation of fundamental European rights; the establishment of an open forum for discussion; the clarification of the EU’s social competences; the recognition and strengthening of trade unions, associations and the third sector). CAFECS put much faith in the virtues of a vast, European-wide public debate as the way of translating its proposals into reality. This strong belief in the role of public relations, in the Kantian sense, lies at the heart of how the CAFECS’ founders see its role and methodology. For them, it is a question of rallying the various peoples of Europe in order that they may debate the various options open to the European project (in terms of its values, form of society, and its socio-economic

French relations with the European Union

136

model). This is a mode of collective thought intended to span the long term and, above all, to rally those concerned (i.e., Europe’s citizens) around a political ideal of European integration. The idea is to mobilise people on a national and transnational scale, to be open to ‘civil society’, and so to leave behind the intergovernmental diplomacy which has hitherto been the only method for building Europe. After five years of activity, the CAFECS has indeed arrived at a set of agreed standards for a ‘projet de civilisation’ for Europe, based upon the individual, and derived from a whole series of diverse considerations of philosophical, social and technological orders. But in its proposals relating to the EU’s institutions and organisation, the CAFECS has been markedly less visible, and less convincing, this possibly reflecting a more generalised lack of decisiveness in France regarding Europe’s institutional future. For example, when CAFECS members have reflected on institutional issues they have focused on institutional reform per se rather than on the ideal finalité of a political Europe, meaning that they have thus avoided the vexed question of federalism. Indeed, federalism divides the CAFECS from within, and to avoid it its members instead make reference to ‘European governance’. From a constitutional point of view, the only clear points raised by the CAFECS have arisen from their support for the generalisa-tion of qualified majority voting in the Council of Ministers, and the extension of the scope and powers of the European Parliament. There would appear to be any number of reasons for this timidity: the indecisiveness of French associative actors in this field, new to these questions; cultural reticence, particularly towards any notion of a federalisation of the EU, deemed to be dangerous territory; finally, the consequence of the strong connections with the French governmental sphere, and the sense of cautious realism that this has engendered—it has been a question of not hampering the French government, particularly during its 2000 EU presidency, with proposals that could be deemed as too ambitiously federalist. Indeed, the question of federalism in France falls largely on deaf ears,17 although the creeping constitutionalisation of the EU seems to have given the idea a new lease of life, or at the very least a new topicality, since constitutionalism and federalism are concepts that appear to go hand in hand. Throughout the second half of the 1990s, the activities of those groups in France that do associate with the philosophy of federalism presented two principal characteristics; first, the heavy hand of the French political context, and second, a strange paradox engendered by this context -namely, that in order to exist and be heard (and to get the federal idea heard) within this context these groups have had to proceed via euphemism, substituting other terminology for the ‘f-word’ itself. From the 1960s to the 1980s, the French European Movement (Mouvement européen France, MEF), the most representative of the federalist groups, gave the appearance of being dormant. It had only 4,000 members, which included the members of its constituent groups who were spread across ten départements; and the movement was in serious financial difficulty as a result, having failed to maintain its grass roots (Germanangue, 1995). The rebirth of the MEF or, more specifically, of its youth section (les Jeunes européens France, JEF), occurred at the time of the 1992 Maastricht referendum in France. The MEF and JEF both campaigned vigorously for the ‘yes’ vote; but it was above all the trauma of the narrowness of this ‘yes’ vote which revealed the relative weakness of pro-European sentiment in France, and the disconnection between this feeling, and the party political system, that pushed the MEF and the JEF to reposition

La Vie associative and the state

137

themselves as a civil force—less elitist, and less closely connected to government networks than had previously been the case. This was a gradual transformation away from a movement largely made up of cadres (elites), for the most part Parisian, whose legitimacy came from their connections with the Parisian politico-administrative machine, into a movement of activists, whose success was contingent on their being numerous, embedding themselves across the entirety of the country and taking decentralised initiatives. A key factor in this makeover was the arrival of a new generation of leaders clustered around the figures of French MEP Jean-Louis Bourlanges and Jean Nestor, respectively president and director of the organisation (and, subsequently, vice-president of Jacques Delors’ Notre Europe). Nestor in particular, from 1996, took the MEF closer towards other French civil society associations, some of which, but not all, were specialised in European-related questions and which were created by French political leaders seeking to gain European expertise outside of their political parties, which tended to ignore EU issues (Bidégaray and Emeri, 1996). Examples include Forum Alternative Européenne, led by C.Fiterman; Europartenaires, founded by former European minister, Elisabeth Guigou; Notre Europe, the think-tank set up in 1996 by former European Commission president Jacques Delors; and CAFECS (see pp. 153– 5). These were groups whose activism was frequently more critical of European integration than the MEF or the JEF, but who were also seen as potential partners because of the often informal but close links that they offered, particularly with political parties, and especially the Socialist Party, and because of the mobility of members between these groups. For the MEF-JEF it thus became a question of attempting to reorientate the views held by these various groupings and individuals towards the MEF’s core ideas, notably its unconditional support for a political Europe, and the primacy of the constitutional question over sectoral issues, by way of example. In overall terms, the aim in undergoing these changes was that the MEF-JEF would be able to convert their quantitative capital (the growing number of pro-European militants, their national coverage, its alliances with other groups) into political influence which, possibly, could even be converted into power exerted on or in government. This objective thus reflects the resolutely political nature of the activities of the MEF-JEF: although non-partisan, the MEF has always considered itself as a political organisation, in so far as it explicitly positions itself in relation to France’s European policy. Indeed, the links that it has created with the political world are precisely its instruments for ensuring that the MEF’s European vision—a democratic and relatively federal EU—is acknowledged and followed by France’s political powers. Its national leaders, by virtue of their day jobs as senior civil servants or politicians, are guaranteed significant political support, and are often themselves highly specialised in European questions. A first step towards this transformed role, in keeping with the movement’s initial vocation as the ‘avant-garde’ of Europe, came in the 1990s when the MEF (and the JEF, but more tentatively so), set itself the intellectual challenge of rethinking the EU’s institutions at a time of great political caution in France, given the freshly traumatic memory of Maastricht. Up until the year 2000, the MEF set about coining and promoting new concepts and original ideas as a way of regenerating what they saw as a lacklustre intellectual and political debate, in France, about Europe. More than this, the MEF aspired to forge a new doctrine which would account for the mysterious sui generis and changeable nature of European integration. In its favour, the MEF possessed considerable

French relations with the European Union

138

resources, foremost of which was its ability to mobilise first-class academic expertise and broadcast it through several channels, including conferences, colloquia and publications. Many academics and researchers, all specialists in European affairs and from a number of different disciplines (particularly public law, politics and economics), participated actively in the MEF’s work, enriching and legitimising its output. Similarly, the involvement of some of the MEF’s members (and ex-members) in governmental and Community decision-making circles regarding institutional questions and reform ensured that there was a concrete outlet for the MEF’s proposals. Less favourably, however, were the characteristics of the French political world in which the MEF had become fully embedded, and which posed a not inconsiderable challenge to the MEF. The body found itself confronted with the predominance, in France, of key institutional actors (such as the government, the president of the Republic, but also political parties) regarding the European question; with the traditional distrust of the French political class towards federalism; with the influence of political parties and their electoral strategies on government (and so on). The MEF’s response to these constraints was rather ambiguous, and cautious; for example, it narrowed its scope to focus on specific policy areas such as trade, education, and the environment; yet it also bolstered its determination to promote a strong Europe by, for example, making ambitious demands to the 1996 IGC, and deepening the controversies surrounding the EU’s institutional shape. Here we can see the limitations placed on the MEF’s activist, pro-European activity by the demands of the national political scene. The fact that the MEF’s leaders often do have party political affiliations has meant that it has been in the MEF’s interest to play down the significance of the issues that divide France’s political parties at national level, particularly regarding the European question. At one level, this response relates to a statutory obligation whereby the MEF undertakes to ensure the firm respect of political pluralism in its own organisation. The MEF’s national leadership is composed of individuals from the various different strands of thought that exist amongst French pro-Europeans, meaning that several parties find themselves represented, from the ex-RPR to the Communist Party, taking in, notably, the UDF, the PS and the PRG (parti des républicains de gauche). This rule also applies to the MEF’s local sections. From this perspective we can see the MEF as a forum which rallies and combines several different ideological readings of the European integration process, ranging from federalism to intergovernmentalism (to put it simply). Indeed, the movement does at all times strive to build a consensus that is authentically pro-European, based on a sense of the European interest, which overcomes strictly party political differences. At another level, it is also the case that the MEF’s incursion into national political territory carefully restricts itself strictly to European questions per se, such as European elections, statements of European policy, the European policies of candidates at national presidential and legislative elections, and so on. However, such delicacy in respect of political labels is not always easy, and the tactic of avoiding left-right divisions is more a question of the strong links that the MEF has with the French state.18 There is in fact no strict balance between political sensitivities with the MEF; for example, its successive presidents in the late 1990s were from the centre-right (Jean-Louis Bourlanges and AnneMarie Idrac were UDF members), yet the MEF itself seemed to lean slightly to the left in these years, notably towards the PS, to which a large proportion of the MEF’s leadership

La Vie associative and the state

139

was close. This situation became problematical at the time of the 2002 presidential elections with respect to the Chirac-Jospin relationship. The MEF had already had to tread carefully in the press and the political world at the most tense moments of the 1997 to 2002 cohabitation, when France’s two leaders had clashed. Then the MEF had remained silent in the face of Lionel Jospin’s very intergovernmental European proposals for the 2002 elections, making no press statement in this regard (unlike its warm reception accorded to Joschka Fischer and Gerhard Schröder’s European speeches at this time). Similarly, the MEF had refrained from criticising the way that the dual executive handled the French presidency of the EU overall, or the Nice summit in December 2000. We should also note the MEF’s inbuilt difficulty in generating support for the federalist ideas on which it is based, since federalism sits so uneasily with traditional French politics. In general terms, the MEF’s federalism is teleological, focusing on what an EU federation could be, in an ideal world, rather than looking at what already exists in the real world of the EU, where of course the federal ideal is watered down by the deals and compromises that are struck regarding political integration and the democratisation of the EU. This fact of EU life is a problem for the JEF too, whose statutes stipulate that the aim of the association is ‘to bring together young people who wish to support European integration and to promote a political union with a federal vocation’ (Article 3); and the association also constitutes the French branch of the Jeunes Fédéralistes européens (Article 2).19 Despite its federalist aspirations, the MEF, at least until the late 1990s, tended to play down the federal reference in its documentation and literature, where instead it called for a ‘Europe that is more united, more democratic, and closer to the citizens’. Resisting change: the French political system The main lesson we can draw from the persistent failure of radical federalism in France is that national politics screens it out. In other words, French national politics plays a central role in the Europeanisation—or not—of the French vie associative. In practice, this means that the extent to which associations play a European role depends in large part on how far they have been co-opted ‘from above’. Indeed, it was immediately after the French referendum on the Maastricht Treaty (which was seen by proEuropean activists but also by politicians as proof that the politicisation of Europe had bad consequences for its popular support) that national politics turned its attention to the associative sector for the opportunities it could offer in developing the debate on Europe. The divisions within and between French political parties over Europe accentuated this trend (Bidégaray and Emeri, 1996): many French politicians, for example, created ‘their’ European association at this time (Elisabeth Guigou’s Europartenaires; Charles Fiterman’s le Forum Alternatives européennes); others reinforced the European activities of existing associations and think-tanks (Philippe Herzog’s Confrontations; Jacques Delors’ Club Témoin and later Notre Europe; Michel Rocard’s Club Convaincre). A high point of this process came in 1996 and 1997 when the then minister for European Affairs, Michel Barnier,20 orchestrated a large-scale national information campaign on Europe entitled ‘le Dialogue national pour l’Europe’. One effect of this campaign was to bring into the limelight European-related associations that had hitherto been relatively unknown, since for the first time recognition was granted to ‘associations à vocation européenne’, as

French relations with the European Union

140

designated by the minister, who were invited explicitly to take part in the information campaign. The subsequent European minister, Pierre Moscovici, took a similar stance, recognising the role that these associations play in informing and schooling others on European questions; Moscovici stopped short nonetheless of inviting these associations to participate in the government’s formulation of France’s European priorities. This is an important distinction since it allows us better to appreciate the division of labour that has taken shape between France’s European-orientated associations and the Ministry of European Affairs: while the Ministry acknowledges the associations’ role as avant-garde in the generation of ideas and inspiration it holds them at bay where the formulation of French European policy is concerned. Here, traditional actors (and especially the SGCI21) continue to hold sway (Eymeri, 2002), and operate according to criteria which have precious little to do with the associative sector—power relations within the core executive; the impact of public opinion; and so on. Thus the associations have seen themselves effectively consigned to the role of service provider when it comes to raising awareness of Europe amongst the French. On those occasions when associations have threatened to become overly politicised—meaning, likely to influence national elections—the traditional filters of French politics, particularly the impact of individuals and their electoral strategies, have come into play. This can be demonstrated by the example of the failure of two specific campaigns led by associative actors. In the first, in 1998, the Mouvement européen France spearheaded a campaign in favour of regionalising France’s voting system for European elections. A petition gathered more than 1,700 signatures and the support of 40 parliamentarians, and was backed up by a report (Mouvement européen France, 1996). On 1 July 1998 the government’s proposed bill on the subject, which was close to the MEF’s text, was removed from the National Assembly’s agenda due to political arguments both within the parliamentary majority and opposition, and between them. Neither the MEF’s expertise nor the evidence that it had produced of popular support for the initiative had ultimately exerted any influence on the real battles that took place between the parties in the gauche plurielle.22 The second example concerns the CAFECS. This association had from 1997 to 2000 undertaken a four-year long exercise in rethinking Europe’s political identity, the results of which were officially presented to the then European minister, Pierre Moscovici, in 2000, before being disseminated more informally through internal PS channels. Despite this, presidential candidate Lionel Jospin’s European proposals, made public on 28 May 2001, differed substantially from the CAFECS’ recommendations, particularly in their strong intergovernmental content. Various interventions by a number of other associations (the Mouvement européen, UEF, CAFECS) were similarly ignored, to all intents and purposes, at election time.

Conclusions Overall, it would be accurate to conclude that there has been a growing but limited recognition by French political authorities of the European role of associative actors. What recognition does take place is motivated by instrumental considerations, such as the organisational support that associations can deliver to government information campaigns

La Vie associative and the state

141

aimed at citizens, or their function in making ‘Europe’ more media-friendly by lending it the citizen-friendly cachet of associative life. It is true that associations have succeeded in becoming indispensable partners for government in the definition and implementation of information and awareness campaigns relating to Europe; but they are not equal partners, and France’s European policy is still first and foremost the product of traditional political actors. Ultimately, the extent to which French governments have included—or not—the views of the associative world on their EU agenda, particularly at the time of the EU’s IGCs, has been limited, because of distortion through the prism of national French politics; in other words, subjected to the stranglehold of politicians and diplomats over intergovernmental negotiations, and EU questions in general. Thus, more than fifty years after the launch of the European integration process, the Europeanisation of the French vie associative is still unfinished business. ‘Europe’ may well have evolved into a geographical extension and strategic dimension of French national government, but it largely remains a distant object for French associations, not yet constituting a genuine ‘cause’ in their eyes, simply a new and different level on which to deploy or redeploy their resources and activities. It can thus be presumed that many associations’ spokespeople, when involving themselves in European questions, are more interested in gaining recognition of their association by national politics and government, and in the tax benefits that accrue to associations, than in extending their activities to the European level or in contributing to the emergence of a genuine European citizenship. Accordingly, more emphasis is placed on acquiring expertise than in mobilising associations around a coordinated, common political aim and this is borne out by the relatively weak role that French associations played in the work of the Convention on the Future of Europe in 2002 and 2003. These observations lead us to conclude, finally, that the European integration process itself appears to proceed according to functional necessity (the satisfaction of sectoral interests), over and above any political ambition, or, more generally, any ideological reading of the European experiment, which could include and promote the role that associations could play in democratising Europe.

Notes 1 There are problems in translating the term vie associative from French to English. The English expression ‘Voluntary association’ does not quite convey the differences between member states in regard to this activity, nor does it translate the heterogeneity that characterises the ‘voluntary’ notion itself (regarding its political, administrative, economic, judicial and cultural characteristics and manifestations). The variety of names given across the EU’s member states to describe these groups gives some indication of their diversity—friendly societies, charities, associations, associations sans but lucrative (non profit-making organisations), Vereinigung, Selbsthilfe Organisation, self-help organisations, organisations non-gouvernementales (NGOs), and interest groups. The difficulty is compounded by the fact (as observed by Maud Simonet (1998) in relation to le bénévolat—voluntary work) that the question of translation in this respect is not neutral but has sociological significance in that the existence of a variety of labels and vocabularies can reflect, in a given country, the plurality of philosophies and configurations that are attributed to the work of associations. In Germany, for example, the Idealvereine are organisations with no organised economic activity, as distinct from the Wirtschaftliche Vereine, which do undertake organised economic activity. In France, a large swathe of associative activity comes under a single legal umbrella known as the loi 1901. This law was designed to allow people to ‘associate’

French relations with the European Union

142

legally, and with a minimum of state interference, hence the term association. Such groups were previously outlawed by the French state for the threat they were deemed to pose to national unity, and to the legitimacy of the state and regime. In contemporary France, la vie associative, as regulated by the 1901 provisions, is vibrant and very diverse, and does in many cases effectively fill in gaps in state provision, often effectively being co-opted by the state precisely in order to do so. Britain, finally, is characterised by a great diversity of structures and types, with a diverse vocabulary to match (charities, self-help organisations, non-profit organisations). For the purposes of this chapter we will maintain the French term of vie associative, translated as necessary by ‘association’. 2 The statistical methods used to measure the associative sector in France, like the studies carried out by academics or within the French administration, fail to take account of the general impact of Europe on the shape of the sector. Even the European Commission’s statistical tool, Eurostat, seems ill-equipped, conceptually as well as methodologically, to evaluate the associative sector, which it greatly underestimates (Anheier et al., 1993). 3 This data can be found at www.europa.eu.int/comm/civil_society/coneccs 4 From a chronological point of view, an important turning point came in 1992 with the adoption of the Maastricht Treaty. At this point in time we 0see a significant change in the Europeanisation of the French vie associative in terms of how this occurred, and the themes and people involved. After the Single European Act of 1986, and before the beginning of the 1990s, the links between associations and the EC were mainly technical in nature, relating to socio-economic questions and to issues relating to the ‘third sector’. At that point what counted was to ensure that the associative sector gained recognition from the Community institutions, recognition of their various roles as employer, producer of goods and services, generator of social links and vectors of political participation. Following the difficult ratification in France of the Maastricht Treaty we could observe a noticeable change in this hitherto technical definition of European-level associations. Maastricht, in ushering in a political deepening of European integration, fairly forcefully removed the normative constraint under which the associations had been operating, in that the EU’s competences henceforth embraced social, cultural and health issues/questions of broad interest to the associative sector. But it was particularly in its definition of European Union citizenship that the Treaty of Maastricht offered associations a new framework of reference—citizens’ Europe—which was to prove particularly rich for them. A strong link was also established between social questions (employment, solidarity) and questions of a civic and political nature (relating to the institutional form of UE). 5 An example of the existence of such a monopoly where European questions and French associations are concerned is the way in which the preparatory work for European aspects of the ‘Assises nationales de la vie associative’ revolved around a small number of associations. This event was a large-scale consultation of the associative sector carried out in metropolitan France between December 1998 and January 1999. 6 This issue has been considered by French associations as being very important for several reasons: the Charter (signed in 2000) deals with specific issues regarding associations’ work and various goals (freedom of movement in the EU, the fight against discrimination, education, etc.) and can provide them with new resources; but it is also seen as revealing a new phase in the European integration process with the implication of citizens and their voluntary organisations, and the definition of a new social contract on a supranational scale. 7 Sources d’Europe, based in Paris, is the main public organisation specialising in information on EU questions in France. 8 ‘Teams Europe’ are national networks of experts who give public conferences on several EU questions. 9 Fonda’s leaders initially worked in partnership with their counterparts from CEDAG, thereby constituting a group of associations specialised in European expertise. Fonda then went on to make itself known to a number of French MEPs whose support they could then count on

La Vie associative and the state

143

(this was most notably the case of Nicole Fontaine, Marie-Claude Vayssade and Louis Eryraud; these three French MEPs having specialised their activity on issues regarding associations). Finally, Fonda established lasting contacts with the national and EU-level individuals responsible for the third sector such as Maria de Lourdes Pintasilgo and AnneMarie Sigmund, or civil servants in the then DG V or DG XXIII. 10 By means of example, the Comité de coordination des Oeuvres mutualistes et coopératives de l’Education nationale (CCOMCEN) has been notably present in these debates thanks to the personal work of its president, Michel Gevrey, in the various groups set up to deal with Europe (such as the ‘Europe’ group within Fonda or in the CNVA and CAFECS). Within the operations of his own organisation, however, European questions are notable by their absence. 11 Comité de coordination des Oeuvres mutualistes et coopératives de l’Education nationale. 12 The French section of the International European Movement, created in 1948 amongst national political leaders to support the European integration process. 13 The French section of the Union for a Federal Europe, created in 1947 to bring about a political and federal constitution for Europe. 14 Europe 99 is a French think-tank created in 1988 by the well-known sociologist Edgar Morin in order to think about cultural and ethical foundations for Europe. 15 Confrontations is a think-thank created in 1991 by the former French MEP, Philippe Herzog, in order to back his legislative work in the European Parliament. 16 The French MEP Pervenche Bérès was chair of the French Socialist delegation in the European Parliament, and is heavily involved in the European Socialist Party; she participated in the work of the Convention for the European Constitution. Charles Fiterman was minister for transport in the 1980s and is member of the Economical and Social Council. Jean-Baptiste de Foucauld directed the Commissariat au Plan and was involved in the European Comité des Sages on civil and social rights chaired by Maria de Lourdes Pintasilgo. 17 The history of the French federalist movement is one of the main reasons for the blurring of this ideology. Indeed, references to ‘federalism’ were supplanted in the 1950s by references to ‘decentralisation’ (Pasquier, 2003). 18 The MEF receives most of its financial support from the French Foreign Affairs Ministry. Most of its members are also top civil servants or politicians. 19 See http://www.jef-europe.net/ 20 At the time of writing (June, 2004), current French foreign minister. 21 Secrétariat général du comité interministériel. This administrative body was created in order to define (and to homogenise) French European politics by coordinating information and expertise among the different administrations and services. 22 We return to this particular case in our conclusions since this reform was finally passed in 2003 by the government of Jean-Pierre Raffarin, who nevertheless had to force it through the National Assembly.

9 Towards a new French strategy for Europe? Concluding remarks1 Helen Drake

Introduction In this collection we set out to explore, first, how certain state and nonstate actors in France have responded to the various challenges posed by France’s 50-year-old commitment to la construction européenne, second, how (and if) these actors have affected French strategy towards the enlarged Europe of 2004 and beyond. Our underlying aim was to probe a certain image of France that had become rather prevalent at the turn of the century. Indeed, France’s European diplomacy in these years was characterised (and caricatured) above all by an apparent lack of strategic direction (even incoherence), according to some in a position to judge (Delors, 2004, p. 468); by a certain defensiveness; and by a quest for new ways to influence the course of events within a Europe of 25 member states. France’s image had been tarnished by a number of developments, including its transition from rule-maker to rule-breaker in relation to the Eurozone’s Growth and Stability Pact; its ambiguous relations with the ten new EU member states, marred by President Chirac’s patronising castigation of their atlanticist leanings, and undermined by systematically reticent French public attitudes towards an enlarged Europe; a relaunched but unpredictable Franco-German partnership appearing to put the interests of the ‘big’ member states far above any collective agreement; and a policy of competitive opposition to the United States over Iraq, at the expense of a modicum of European unity. These were developments that cast doubts on the capacity of France, founding member of the European Union, efficiently to adapt to changing circumstances. France’s capacity to influence European and world affairs was in decline, whether measured in terms of relative voting weights in the EU’s Council of Ministers, the impact of French MEPs on the EP’s legislative business, the declining use of the French language in European international organisations or, more broadly, the progress of French preferences for a Europe-puissance. This was a picture in which the traditional figures of France’s European politics loomed largest; namely, the president and his government, and their supporting casts from the machinery of the French state. Yet French policy towards the European Union inevitably involves many more actors and agents than the leaders of France’s dual executive; and even its state executive and bureaucracy are hardly monolithic entities, as many studies before ours have demonstrated (by way of example: Cole and Drake, 2000;

Towards a new French strategy for Europe

145

D’Arcy and Rouban, 1996; Doutriaux and Lequesne, 1995; Elgie, 2003; Gueldry, 2001, 2003; Guyomarch et al, 1998; Kassim, 1997; Kassim and Menon, 1996; Lequesne, 1993; Sauron, 2000a; Stevens, 2003). Our own contributions sought to complement these approaches by means of a detailed and empirical focus on other actors that are significant to our understanding of how France relates to the ever-changing context of European integration. We hoped thereby to extend the depth of the existing pictures of France in Europe. Our chapters thus cover key individuals and organisations at the top of the policy-making establishment; namely, first, the Paris diplomats and advisers who relate directly with their opposite numbers from the other member states, and with the Union’s own officials, in the world of the negotiation of the EU’s political order. These figures provide interesting observations of Paris as seen from Brussels, Luxembourg and Strasbourg. Second, the august and austere Conseil d’État, source of both binding legal norms and formidable administrative minds, and whose members, through their networks of influence and outside posts, have over the years created a two-way learning process between Paris and the EU’s institutions. Other chapters focus on those bodies and individuals whose role it is to transmit and relay opinions, ideas and energies between, in simple terms, state and society: the press, the political parties; the representatives of labour and capital; and the people’s movements in the form of France’s myriad of associations or voluntary groups. The electorate themselves were also the subject of in-depth analysis, with the intention of detecting signs of change or resistance to change in French public attitudes towards Europe.

Our main findings Our findings suggest a number of avenues for further research regarding our overarching theme of change, and responses to change. For the sake of simplicity we consider that most if not all of these can be classed under the general heading of ‘Europeanisation’. This was a concept that guided most of our authors in their research, either implicitly or explicitly so, even though the book’s first concern was to induce findings from empirical evidence rather than to deductively or systematically test any given theory. Since Ladrech’s path-breaking 1994 article (Ladrech, 1994), ‘Europeanisation’ has evolved into a broad, and broadly useful, concept generating in particular work on the impact of the EU on domestic politics and society in the member states (Bulmer and Lequesne, 2005; Cole and Drake, 2000; Green Cowles et al., 2001). Our findings in this respect seem to concur with those of Balme and Woll (2005, p. 27) when they write that ‘Europeanisation should mainly be understood as the transformation of relations among domestic actors, rather than as the transnationalisation of domestic politics’. A first set of remarks concerns what we could call the socialisation of individuals into the European policy-making process. This is a rather natural if opaque phenomenon which almost inevitably brings about change, however subtle, to working practices and, in some cases, modes of thinking; it is, essentially, a learning process. The more networked an individual, the more intense the process of socialisation. Thus Baisnée demonstrated via first-hand evidence how the ‘veterans’ of France’s daily national press corps became socialised to the point of ‘going native’ in the EU capital of Brussels, and

French relations with the European Union

146

creating, sur mesure, coveted journalistic roles. Their expertise in European affairs was such that they developed a de facto monopoly, and unparalleled credibility vis-à-vis their Paris editors, many of whom were loathe to remove these men (for they were all men) from their positions in Brussels. However, Baisnée also showed how this authority has still not fully translated itself into a situation where ‘Europe sells’ in the quality Paris dailies. The reasons here are partly due to the subject matter itself, and to the specific form of expertise developed by these individuals—technical, detailed, dry; but there are other factors too. Specifically, papers will write news that sells to its readers, but will not publish news that may well provide a public information service—on the EU—but that will not sell. Since Baisnée also demonstrates that the readership of detailed EU news is very restricted, in socio-professional terms—i.e. it is not a subject of popular interest— the papers carry rather little of it. The ‘challenge of Community news’ is thus that it does not sell newspapers in any great number. A second and connected point raised in Baisnée’s chapter is that the political setting in France is partly responsible for the frustrations experienced by newspaper editors when handling Brussels news. Unlike the case of the UK, and as both Flood and Startin showed in their respective chapters (and to which we return), ‘Europe’ is a fact of national French life towards which the electorate shows indifference rather than hostility or unbridled enthusiasm. Editors of French papers thus find it hard to portray Brussels through the adversarial, newsworthy lens habitually used by their UK counterparts. Baisnée’s chapter demonstrates both how socialisation changes individual perspectives and how the institutionalisation of such change is constrained by the realities of national norms and habits. Mangenot’s chapter on the Conseil d’État provides a slightly different perspective on this question of socialisation and its impact on practices and norms, here of the French administrative state. He shows how a chief characteristic of the Conseil is that its members are expected to spend a significant proportion of their careers outside the institution, working in ‘active’ public service elsewhere, including in the EU’s own institutions. This is a fact which in this example gradually led the Council to challenge its own resistance towards the encroachment of the EU’s legal order. Through a rather subtle and long-term process, which affected both the older generations of conseillers as well as certain cohorts of ‘young Turks’, the Council came to question what we could call its own ‘actorness’—its capacity to influence, if not policy-making, the norms of the French and EU policy-making environments. It was the Council’s quest for more effective actorness and greater status within the national French administrative establishment that led certain of its members to conduct what amounted to an about-turn in its previous case law. In this case, change thus appeared to take the form of a ‘stunning reversal’, although in fact the build-up had been rather gradual and, seen from outside Paris (in Luxembourg, home to the European Court of Justice in particular), as long overdue and of limited impact outside of France. Mangenot’s chapter demonstrated how an institution, here the revered (in Paris) Council of State, in large part because of the realist, careerist ambitions of its individual, highly networked members, can increase its own relative power in the domestic setting. Yet the chapter, as with Baisnée’s, also demonstrates the limits placed on the processes of change by this national context. In this example, the Council’s reversal has had only limited impact on the extent to which the French administrative state as a whole has

Towards a new French strategy for Europe

147

adapted to Europe. Mangenot himself raises the issue of France’s very poor record in the transposition of EU directives into national law. The critical factor here is the political will required to effect such change, which still, at the time of writing, was stalled at the stage of rhetorical professions of good intentions.2 Also in this respect, however, France’s Conseil constitutionnel had by mid-June 2004 definitively declined to pass judgment on laws intended precisely to accelerate the transposition of EU law into national norms (see Le Monde 16/6/04); this was, in the words of Le Monde, a form of ‘auto-dispossession’ on the part of the Constitutional Council, which in their view amounted to a ‘juridical and institutional revolution’ in relations between France and the EU. But the same article noted that these advances, described as ‘radical acts’ of Europeanism, pointed up the blockages in national politics regarding such losses of national sovereignty. In this connection, Startin explores the weight of Gaullist thinking on politics in the mainstream French right. As we suggested in our Introduction, the effects of Gaullism on contemporary French politics are residual and derivative in that they constitute rather abstract points of principle regarding national sovereignty and grandeur, the authority of the state, and the integrity of the ‘social’ republic. We saw in Flood’s chapter that the electoral impact of such thinking, especially when boiled down to its souverainiste component, is decreasingly influential, although both Startin and Flood demonstrate how, as a latent force of opposition, these historical references still have the scope to muddy the electoral waters. Startin also argues that the potential of Gaullist aspirations to disturb the party system depends to a considerable extent on the behaviour of individual party leaders. In this respect, President Chirac has deliberately attempted to transcend the explicitly Gaullist roots of his current UMP party (other than in name), demonstrating with some force Parsons’ argument that France’s presidents have all ‘converted’ to a proEuropean stance, albeit under the constraints of past and ongoing commitments (Parsons, 2003). President Chirac himself, in his 14 July 2004 national televised address, expressed with some apparent emotion the view that all French presidents had embraced European integration, and that no subsequent leader could sincerely turn his/her back on France’s European engagement to date. In other respects, the weight of the past and, even more figuratively, the influence of national stereotypes and the expectations that they breed can be seen to act as a brake on the processes of normative and cognitive adaptation that we have been exploring in these chapters. Costa and Daloz demonstrate in their chapter how French policy-makers and their advisers tend to fall victim to the stereotypical perceptions that exist amongst their partner member states regarding French diplomatic behaviour. Their material thus offers insight into Paris as seen from Brussels and other EU capital cities. Indeed, much has been written on France’s so called international ‘arrogance’ (Gubert and Saint-Martin, 2003) and the role that it plays in the pervasive image, and self-image, of France as a declining world power. Costa and Daloz’s evidence gives a nuanced picture, in that stereo-typical behaviour—blasé logistical provision (for the EU presidency function, in this case); a certain ‘autism’ in dealings with other member states, particularly ‘smaller’ ones; a Paris-centric approach which can marginalise Paris’s own representatives in Brussels—exists alongside the desire to change, this itself a product of the learning process of socialisation in the EU’s many networks. But there is always the temptation of reverting to type, and this, in the authors’ view, reflects the weight of a French political culture which ‘talks up’ France’s relative power status, which emphasises Paris over

French relations with the European Union

148

other centres of power and which undervalues the advantages of a career spent predominantly in Brussels. Careerist and other interests are a notably important aspect of the process by which many of the actors under examination in the preceding chapters have adapted to the realities of France in Europe. We saw above that the members of the Conseil d’État that were the most supportive of its ‘reversal’ were those with realistically pessimistic expectations of their career prospects, should the Conseil remain isolated from the process of creating a new European legal order. In these individual cases, selfinterest, and, to an extent, corporate interest, played just as big a role in effecting change as did loftier aspirations of serving state and republic. In a similar vein, Weisbein in his chapter on la vie associative finds that the predominant pattern of associations’ involvement in European questions is functional. In other words, and as he illustrates, the main rationale deployed by the associations with regard to EU-level involvement tends to be economic: what resources can they derive from the EU? Can taking the route to Brussels improve their relative standing and influence in the domestic arena? The predominant rationales are thus pragmatic, over and above more idealistic or ideological visions of Europe’s future democratic shape. This realism is complicated by the relationships that exist between the associative sector (or, more accurately, parts of it, since Weisbein demonstrates the extent of variability in the Europeanisation of la vie associative) and the state; or, more precisely, government and party. With regard to the particular question of federalism, we see in Weisbein’s chapter how key associations were co-opted by government in the 1990s in order to relay official messages regarding Europe’s quasi-federal nature back to civil society; this activity accelerated and intensified after the shock of the nearmiss Maastricht referendum as successive French governments attempted to soften up opinion. The very process of co-optation effectively capped the associations’ capacity for radical action, since their state-support was conditional upon their playing a restricted role of information and service provider, and unequal partner in the process of educating the French about Europe. On the other hand, Weisbein shows how key influential figures from the associative world attempted to feed ideas and proposals back into the policymaking world—but with rather limited success, particularly regarding the federal idea which Prime Minister Jean-Pierre Raffarin openly contested in the run-up to the June 2004 European elections in France. Thus in terms of the relative power balance between state and society in France, as viewed through the lens of associative activity, any shifts in favour of a more participative democracy are subtle indeed, and in Weisbein’s view reflect the lack of progress at EU level in building a new democratic model. Milner’s analysis of the parties of the French left, and the ‘social partners’ in their policy towards Europe’s ‘social model’, echoes a number of the themes above. In particular she demonstrates how specific instances and processes of Europeanisation— the nation-state learning from the EU, and vice versa (the ‘uploading’ and ‘downloading’ of norms and preferences)—can be traced to equally specific political or ideological rationales. Her contrast of how the parties of the left and right, when in government in the 1990s and 2000s in particular, instrumentalised the concept of the European Social Model, to, respectively (and simply put) protect or reform the domestic status quo in relation to the welfare state, clearly demonstrates this complexity. She also indicates the weight of national culture, in that French visions of Europe under presidents of both left and right have prioritised Europe’s social policy function as a matter of national

Towards a new French strategy for Europe

149

principle. Her chapter indeed gets under the surface of a member state, France, with a reputation for uploading its preferences in this regard to the European level; this does happen, but the European Social Model is equally instrumentalised, both rhetorically and in real terms, to effect change in the national arena. Other actors omitted from this volume, in part on grounds of space and feasibility, would provide further interesting material for analysis, and work in these particular fields is growing in volume. Gordon and Meunier (2001), for example, have written extensively on the extent to which key economic actors in France—public service industries, privatesector companies, business in general—have for several years succeeded in equipping France rather well for the rigours of global markets, despite the co-existence in France of the loud anti-globalisation (or, more accurately, alter-mondialistes) voices associated with José Bové and his loosely organised camp supporting ‘alternatives’ to globalisation. It is also the case that the highest-profile clashes that occurred in the early 2000s between Paris and Brussels all revolved around French interpretations of the Community’s competition policy—and all (Bull, Alstom, France Telecom) involved considerable compromise on the part of the French state. France’s regions are now all represented in Brussels, suggesting a potential for additional challenges placed on the traditional structures of French EU policy coordination (including the SGCI, as raised in a number of our chapters), through the bypassing of central government. On this point, however, relations between the EU and French regions have to date had the effect, in general, of endowing the regional préfet— i.e. the state’s representative—with a vital partnership and coordination role of their own. Anecdotal evidence would also suggest that even France’s richest and populous regional authorities recognise that they lag behind, say, their British counterparts in the activism of their relations with Brussels.3 (Bontron, 2003). Finally, the employers’ main organisation, MEDEF, has itself (and as Milner’s chapter describes) attempted to kickstart debate on making France more influential in the EU’s legislative process, in part through more concentrated attempts by France’s MEPs within the European Parliament. In the campaign for the June 2004 elections to the European Parliament, President Chirac himself gave official backing to the idea that France’s MEPs have an important role to play in relaying French interests into the Brussels-Strasbourg galaxy. This is evidence of a tactical change of heart, French presidents over the years being notoriously dismissive of the role that its parliamentarians, in Paris and Strasbourg/Brussels, could and should play in the EU policy-making process. This was a rather significant shift towards acknowledging the growing role and scope of the EP, which, thereby and albeit implicitly, recognises the fact that the EU exists as a political system in its own right, with forms of democratic representation that run in parallel to national-level politics. The experience of the Convention on the Future of Europe, in 2002 and 2003, in which influential French parliamentarians spoke for France alongside the foreign minister, was largely positive in respect of this particular learning process. The draft text that the Convention finally produced was more than acceptable to France, and to a considerable extent the Convention experience did represent ‘an opportunity for France to give a new impulse and a new coherence to its policy on the EU’ (Lequesne, 2003, p. 2), a further critical variable here being the smooth operation of the Franco-German relationship and its proposal of a number of successful initiatives that shaped the Convention’s outcome (Schild, 2004).

French relations with the European Union

150

Old strategy, new tactics? Our findings suggest therefore that there are many connections between French European policy-makers and the various forces which make up French politics and society. These are spheres linked, as in other member states, by individuals, their ideas and interests, and their professional networks of influence. We have seen that certain of the relays of societal pressure and demands do of course register on the radar of France’s traditionally state-centric, Parisian and president-centred circle of European-related affairs. We also saw that the extent to which additional and alternative voices are heard is conditioned by the institutional setting, a point we raised in our Introduction to this volume. This setting, in France, favours the dual executive and the structures that serve it through the encouragement of stable political majorities. By way of example, France’s electoral systems in national, regional and European contests limit the extent to which new and possibly marginal public attitudes and party ideologies (as defined by Flood) can exert leverage over France’s mainstream parties of government. Over and above the fact that, as Flood amply demonstrated, ‘Europe’ is of low salience at election time in France— even at European elections—is the fact that those parties in France that apparently offer an alternative to the Europe of Maastricht, Amsterdam and Nice are structurally disadvantaged by electoral rules and by the pressures on the French voter (particularly since the shockwaves of 21 April 2004) to cast a vote utile (a vote that counts), particularly when casting a vote sanction (a vote against the incumbent government).4 Thus in France’s March 2004 regional elections, the right of President Chirac and Prime Minister Raffarin was disavowed, and it was the Socialist Party that stripped the right of 20 of its 22 regional councils in France. Similarly, in the June 2004 European elections it was the Socialist Party who scored its highest-ever vote in a European contest and won more than double the number of seats in the EP than the governing UMP; it was also the smaller parties on left and right (the PCF, the Greens, the souverainistes on the right) that fared comparatively worse than on previous occasions—in part because of the vote utile; in part because of the regionalisation of the voting system in these elections, which penalised parties whose support could not be concentrated into France’s eight ‘inter-regional’ constituencies.5 The UDF, for its part, much as Startin presaged in his chapter here, successfully drained off those voters who genuinely did want to vote on European matters in these European elections, taking it into third place, in votes and percentage terms, after the PS and the UMP.6 By mid-2004 Jacques Chirac’s 82 per cent majority in the 2002 presidential election, and the absolute majority in the National Assembly of the UMP Party, concealed a more ambiguous play of political forces. The UMP, again as Startin predicted, had failed in its attempt to become the single, unified party on the right, and its most significant challenge came from its federal-friendly UDF ‘partner’, however numerically challenged the UDF was within the government’s majority. Within the UMP, souverainiste voices had made themselves heard in the 2004 EP elections, but, with very few exceptions, had refrained from running separate lists, doubtless mindful of individual careers but also of the waning performances of the souverainistes (as shown by Flood) between the 1994 and 2004 European elections. The Socialist Party, whilst benefiting as above from the president’s and the government’s ailing popularity in 2004, was suffering internal divisions over

Towards a new French strategy for Europe

151

visions of Europe, as well as divisions between the PS on the one hand and its former allies in the gauche plurielle (1997–2002) on the other. The focal point of this state of political play was set when President Chirac, in his 14 July 2004 Bastille Day public address, finally called a referendum on the EU’s new constitution, to be held in the second half of 2005 (see Le Monde, 14 and 15 July 2004).7 The French, he said, were directly concerned by the substance of the constitution, and so would be directly consulted. This announcement brought to a close months of speculation and pressure regarding the future ratification of the constitution, and instantly injected a new electoral contest into what would otherwise have been an election-free three year period. At the time of writing we can only speculate on the effects of the ratification campaigns on the outcome of the vote itself. Much would have been learned from the Maastricht experience, in particular regarding the necessity of informing the French voter in good time of the stakes in question; although here, the government’s record had been consistently poor since 1992, up to and including the case of the 2004 European elections. Similarly, the scope and the substance of the new constitution were qualitatively different to that of Maastricht in that it did not extend the scope of integration in quite the dramatic way that the Treaty on European Union had. Nevertheless, the referendum would inevitably exacerbate divisions between and within parties, given the scope for the ‘pollution’ of the vote by domestic power games in President Chirac’s terms, and all parties did indeed support the calling of a referendum. Only the souverainistes could be said to object to transfers of authority to Brussels per se, or to the very principle of a constitution (unlike opposition in the UK); but there was much in the so-called ‘liberal’ content of the proposed constitution that by June 2004 was already testing the unity of the PS, by way of example. Fundamentally, the new constitutional text was intended to rewrite the relative weight of the EU’s 25 member states in the common institutions in an attempt to balance democratic fairness with efficiency in such an enlarged Community. This ambition brings us back to our point of departure; namely, France’s strategic quest for influence in a significantly enlarged EU, in a post-cold war context that eliminated many of France’s previous certainties and advantages; and the accompanying image of an ‘old’ European nation in some existential distress. This is a situation that led several voices within the French establishment to review and scrutinise in considerable detail the way in which French relations with the EU are conducted (Assemblée Nationale, 2004; Lanxade, 2002). These reports concurred that while France’s influence in an enlarged EU was undoubtedly diluted, this need not amount to a process of terminal decline. Several of their recommendations echo themes raised earlier in this volume, and in particular the relevance to French policy-makers of actors hitherto excluded from or neglected in policy-making on Europe, such as French MEPs, and national députés; as well as the need to put certain administrative norms, stereotypes and traditions to one side when reforming the machinery of state that supports French diplomats and negotiators in Brussels and beyond. These were reviews that focused inwards on the ‘micro-sociological’ aspects of France’s relations with the EU, as we have in this present collection, in order to understand how France could better reach its unchanging strategic goals; namely, the exercise of influence within the EU, and the projection of external sovereignty and thus

French relations with the European Union

152

national identity (Hoffmann, 1995) as a global or ‘world’ power (Védrine, 2000). In pursuit of these goals, Chirac’s vision of the EU was notably consistent ever since he inherited the challenge of François Mitterrand’s Maastricht Treaty and its domestic aftermath. Thus, in 2004, President Chirac continued to argue for a ‘European Federation of Nation-States’ driven if necessary by small ‘pioneer groups’ of willing EU member states (such as in defence, or home affairs), not entirely dissimilar to Charles de Gaulle’s Fouchet Plans in 1961 and 1962 for a European ‘Union of States’. He demanded the extension of qualified majority voting where there was functional French interest to do so (in relation to the EU’s social policy provisions for example), but insisted on unanimity elsewhere, such as in the global negotiations covering trade in Europe’s ‘cultural’ products. In 2004, France continued to display to its EU partners the conjoined faces of Jean Monnet and Charles de Gaulle, the founding fathers of France’s own narrative of la construction européenne and, unlike Thomas Klau’s (2002) predictions, looked unlikely to choose definitively between them, much as Parsons argued (2003) in narrating France’s ‘certain idea of Europe’. Below the surface of this unchanging strategic quest, nevertheless, lay the realities, some of which have been explored in this volume, of an old nation-state and established Fifth French Republic undergoing incremental and piecemeal change in its internal power balances and political games, reflections of an evolving national identity.

Notes 1 This title is derived from a sub-title in C.Lesquesne (2003) ‘French Views of the European Convention’, U.S.—France Analysis Series (The Brookings Institution), January. See www.brookings.edu/usfrance/analysis/index.htm and http://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/actu/actu.aspPDOS=35150 2 In mid-July 2004, Claudie Haigneré, European minister, relaunched efforts to improve France’s poor record of transposing Community directives. See http://www.europe.gouv.fr/les_europeens_8/france_union_18/europeennes_droit_71.html 3 Information from interviews conducted by the author with relevant representatives from the Region of Rhône-Alpes, the urban conurbation (connurbation urbaine) of le Grand Lyon, and the city (ville) of Lyon, in January and March 2004. 4 See also Evans (2003). 5 This reform (law no. 2003–327 of 11 April 2003, published in le Journal officiel, 12 April 2003) had been rejected in 1998 by the Socialist government of the day, under pressure from the Greens and Communists who feared, rightly so, the negative effects it would have on their representation (see Howarth, 2001, p. 137). The shock of April 2002 spurred the Raffarin government into action, although he had to force the vote through the National Assembly using the 49/3 ‘vote of confidence’ procedure. A rationale of the reform—that it would bring citizens in closer ‘proximity’ to their representatives—can be found at www.assemblee-nat.fr/12/dossiers/conseillers_regionaux.asp 6 See Chapter 1 for the full details of the 2004 European Parliament election results. 7 By early 2005, the likely referendum date was earlier, probably May.

Bibliography Abraham, R. (1989) Droit international, droit communautaire et droit français, Paris: Hachette. Abrial, S. and Pina, C. (1999) Les Elections européennes de juin 1999 dans les quinze pays de l’Union: une consultation de ‘seconde ordre’?, Revue française de science politique, 49 (4–5), 707–17. Alexandre, A. and Jardin, X. (1996) From the Europe of Nations to the European Nation? Attitudes of French Gaullist and Centrist Parliamentarians, The British Elections and Parties Yearbook 1996, London: Frank Cass, 185–206. Alexandre-Collier, A. (2002) La Grande-Bretagne eurosceptique?, Nantes: Editions du Temps. Anheier, H.K. and Kendall, J. (1999) The third sector and the European Union policy process: an initial evaluation, Journal of European Public Policy, 6 (2), 283–307. Anheier, H.K., Knapp, M. and Salamon, L.M. (1993) Pas de chiffres, pas de politique. Est-ce qu’Eurostat peut mesurer le non lucratif?, Revue Études Coopératives Mutualistes Associatives, 248 (46), 87–96. Arnaud, J.-L. (1997) L’Europe sociale. Historique et état des lieux, Études et Recherches, 3, July. Arnoult, E. and Monnier, F. (1999) Le Conseil d’État. Juger, conseiller, servir, Paris: Découvertes Gallimard. Assemblée Nationale (2004) Rapport d’Information (No. 1594) sur la presence et l’influence de la France dans les institutions européennes (déposé par la Delegation de l’Assemblée nationale pour l’Union européenne, présenté par M. Jacques Floch, Député). Association pour une fondation nationale des études de droit (1991) La formation juridique des fonctionnaires, Paris: LGDJ. Bachet, D. and Durand, J.-P. (2002) Social-Liberalism in France, Capital and Class, 75, 135–48. Baisnée, O. (2001) Les relations entre la Commission et le Corps de presse accrédité auprès de l’Union européenne: crise et renouvellement des pratiques, Pôle Sud, no. 15. Baisnée, O. (2002) Can political journalism exist at the EU level?, in R.Kuhn and E.Neveu (eds) Political Journalism, London: Routledge, 108–28. Balme, R. and Woll, C. (2005) France, in S.Bulmer and C.Lequesne (eds) Member States and the European Union, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bannerman, E. (2001) The Lisbon Scorecard. The Status of Economic Reform in Europe, London: Centre for European Reform. Barre, R. (1976) ‘Discours de Monsieur Raymond Barre a l’Assemblée nationale’ (investiture speech), Paris, 5 October. Bastin, G. (2001) ‘Bruxelles, correspondance. Géographie économique de l’information européenne a Bruxelles’, in Bruxelles, l’Européenne. Regards croisés sur une region capitale, Bruxelles, Tempora-UCL, 161–72. Bastin, G. (2003) L’Europe saisie par l’information (1952–2001): des professionnels du journalisme engage aux content coordinators, Cahiers Politiques (Harmattan). Bell, D. (2002) French Politics Today, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Benoit, B. (1997) Social Nationalism: An Anatomy of French Euroscepticism, Aldershot: Ashgate. Bercusson, B. (2002) The European Social Model comes to Britain, Industrial Law Journal, 31 (3), 209–44. Bidégaray, C. and Emeri, C. (1996) Enjeux européens et système des partis politiques français, in F.D’Arcy and L.Rouban, De la Vé République a l’Europe, Paris: Presses de Sciences Po, 61–76. Boltanski, L. (1982) Les cadres, Paris: Minuit.

Bibliography

154

Boltanski, L. and Chiapello, E. (1999) Le nouvel esprit du capitalisme, Paris: Gallimard. Bonoli, G. and Palier, B. (1998) Changing the politics of social programmes: innovative change in British and French welfare reforms, Journal of European Social Policy, 8 (4), 317–30. Bontron, J.-C. (2003) La mise en oeuvre des fonds structurels européens a miparcours, in L’État des regions françaises 2003, Paris: La Découverte. Börzel, T. (2002) Pace-setting, foot-dragging, and fence-sitting: member state responses to Europeanization, Journal of Common Market Studies, 40 (2), 193–214. Bouget, D. (2003) Convergence in social welfare systems: from evidence to explanations, CrossNational Research Papers, 7(1), 42–54. Boulouis, J. (1988) L’avenir de la justice administrative, Pouvoirs, 46. Bound, J. and Featherstone, K. (1982) The French Left and the European Community, in D.Bell (ed.) Contemporary French Political Parties, London: Croom Helm, 165–89. Bourlanges, J.-L. (2001) ‘Le syndrome de Grouchy’, Le Figaro, 30 May. Braibant, G. (2001) Ensemble, dessinons l’Europe. Rapport du Groupe ‘Débat sur l’avenir de l’Europe’ (Paris, Documentation française, Rapports officiels; and http://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/avenir/rapport.htm). Brookings Institution (2002) France after the Elections: Are we all still Americans? France and United States-French Relations (June 24) (http://www.brook.edu/f) Buffet-Tchakaloff, M.F. (1985) La France devant la Cour de Justice des Communautés européennes, Paris: Economica-Presses universitaires d’Aix-Marseille. Bulmer, S. and Lequesne, C. (2002) New Perspectives on EU-Member State Relationships (Questions de Recherche/Research in Question no. 4, CERI, Sciences Po, Paris, January). Bulmer, S. and Lequesne, C. (2005) Member States and the European Union, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Caillosse, J. (1996) Sur la division droit public—droit privé en droit français: la distribution des rôles sociaux a l’épreuve du marché (Cinquième congrès de l’Association française de science politique, Aix-en-Provence). Casanova, J.-C. (2003) ‘De Charles de Gaulle à Jacques Chirac’, Le Monde (24/7/03). Cautrès, B. (2000) Quelques grands indicateurs de soutien à l’Europe: bénéfice et satisfaction vis-àvis de l’appartenance de son pays a l’Union européenne, in B. Cautrès and D.Reynié (eds) L’opinion européenne, Paris: Presses de Science Po, 216. Cautrès, B. and Reynié, D (2000) L’Opinion européenne, Paris: Presses de la Fondation Nationale de Sciences Politiques. Cautrès, B. and Reynié, D (2002) L’Opinion européenne, Paris: Presses de la Fondation Nationale de Sciences Politiques. Cayla, O. (1998) Un coup d’État de droit?, Le Débat, 100. Chirac, J. (1997) Discours de Monsieur Jacques Chirac President de la République à l’occasion du 30e anniversaire de l’Association des Journalistes de l’Information Sociale, Paris, 1 July. Clasen, J. and Clegg, D. (2003) Unemployment protection and labour market reform in France and Great Britain in the 1990s: solidarity versus activation?, Journal of Social Policy, 32 (3), 361– 81. Clasquin, B., Moncel, N., Harvey, M. and Friot, B. (2004) Wage and Welfare. New Perspectives on Employment and Social Rights in Europe, Brussels: Peter Lang. Clausade, J. de (1991) L’adaptation de l’administration française a l’Europe (Rapport au ministre d’État, ministre de la Fonction publique et des Réformes administratives et au ministre des Affaires Européennes, Paris: La Documentation française). Cohen-Tanugi, L. (1988) L’avenir de la justice administrative, Pouvoirs, 46. Cole, A. (1996) The French Socialists, in J. Gaffney (ed.) Political Parties and the European Union, London: Routledge, 71–85. Cole, A. (2002) A strange affair: the 2002 presidential and parliamentary elections in France, Government and Opposition, 37 (3), 317–42.

Bibliography

155

Cole, A. and Drake, H. (2000) The Europeanization of the French polity: continuity, change and adaptation, Journal of European Public Policy, 7 (1), 26–43. Comité des sages (1996) For a Europe of Civic and Social Rights: Report of the Comité des Sages chaired by Maria de Lourdes Pintasilgo, Brussels: Office for Official Publications of the European Communities. Conrad, Y. (1994) ‘De l’agence de presse au courtier en information. Le rôle des agences de presse dans la diffusion de l’information européenne’, in F.Dassetto and M.Dumoulin (eds) Naissance et développement de l’information européenne, Berne: Euroclio/Peter Lang, 119–32. Conseil d’État (1988) La formation juridique des fonctionnaires, Rapport, Paris: La Documentation française. Conseil d’État, Comité du rayonnement français (1989) Quel droit en Europe? Quel droit pour l’Europe?, Actes du colloque international, Cannes. Conseil d’État (1993) Rapport public 1992, Paris: La Documentation française. Conseil d’État (2001) Rapport public 2001, Jurisprudence et avis 2000, Les autorités administratives indépendantes, Paris: La Documentation française. Coron, G. and Palier, B. (2002) Changes in the means of financing social expenditure in France since 1945, in C.de la Porte and P.Pochet (eds) Building Social Europe Through the Open Method of Coordination, Brussels: Peter Lang, 97–136. Costa, O. (2001) La Présidence française de l’Union: quelques éléments pour un bilan, L’Année sociale, Bruxelles. CSA (2001) Les Français et la mondialisation après le sommet du G8 à Gênes. Available from: http://www.csa-tmo.fr/fra/data2001/opi200110730b.htm [accessed 23/08/01]. D’Arcy, F. and Rouban, L. (1996) De la Ve République à l’Europe, Paris: Presses de Sciences Po. Dalton, R., Flanagan S. and Beck N. (eds) (1989) Electoral Change in Advanced Industrial Societies, Princeton: Princeton University Press. De la Serre, F. (1987) La Grande-Bretagne et la Communauté européenne, Paris: PUF. De Villiers, P. and Berthu, G. (1999) L’Europe Autrement, Paris: François-Xavier de Guibert. Declair, E. (1999) Politics on the Fringe: The People, Policies, and Organization of the French National Front, Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press. Délégation européenne de l’Assemblée Nationale (2001) Présidence française: échec ou réussite, Les documents d’Information de l’Assemblée Nationale, no. 2905. Delors, J. (2004) Mémoires, Paris: Plon. Dewost, J.L. (1990) La decision communautaire et la decision nationale, Actualité juridique du droit administratif. Diamantopolou, A. (2001) Social models and European monetary union—convergence or coexistence?, Address to Ecosoc conference on Economic and Monetary Union, Brussels, 19 November. Available from: http://www.europa.eu.int/comm/%20employment_social/speeches/2001/011119ad.pdf(accessed 21/8/02). Doutriaux, Y. and Lequesne, C. (1995) Les Institutions de l’Union européenne, Paris: La Documentation française. Drake, H. (2001) ‘France on trial? The challenge of change and the French presidency of the European Union, July-December 2000, Modern and Contemporary France, 9 (4), 453–66. Drake, H. (2004) ‘Europe’ in the 2002 French elections, in J.Gaffney (ed.) The French Presidential and Legislative Elections of 2002, Aldershot: Ashgate, 259–75. Dubois, F., Enguéléguélé, M., Lefèvre, G. and Loiselle, M. (1993) La contestation du droit administratif dans le champ intellectuel et politique, in CURAPP, Le droit administratif en mutation, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Dulong, D. (2001) La science politique et l’analyse de la construction juridique de l’Europe: bilan et perspectives, Droit et société, 49. Dumartin, S. and Maillard, C. (2000) Le lectorat de la presse d’information générale, INSEE Première, 753.

Bibliography

156

Ecole Nationale d’Administration (1997) La réforme de l’Etat, actes de séminaire. Economist, The (2002) Private pension funds in France: still a dirty word, 8 June, p. 42. Elgie, R. (2003) Political Institutions in Contemporary France, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Erhel, C. and Palier, B. (2003) Les dynamiques de l’Europe sociale et Europe de l’emploi a l’heure de la ‘Méthode Ouverte de Coordination’: persistances et convergences, in C.Euzéby, F.Carluer, S.Chapon, A.Euzéby, D.Mansanti and C. Offrendi (eds) Mondialisation et regulation sociale, 1, Paris: L’Harmattan, 125–43. Erhel, C. and Zajdela, H. (2004) The dynamics of social and labour market policies in France and the United Kingdom: between path dependence and convergence, Journal of European Social Policy, 14 (2), 125–42. Esping-Andersen, G. (2002) A new European social model for the twenty-first century?, in M.J.Rodrigues (ed.) (2003) The New Knowledge Economy in Europe: a Strategy for International Competitiveness and Social Cohesion, Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, pp. 54–94. Europe Information Service (EIS) (2001) Conseil Européen: L’UE se fixe de nouveaux objectifs en matière sociale et d’emploi, 28 March. European Opinion Research Group (2003) Eurobaromètre 58.1. Rapport special Bureau France. (Rapport rédigé pour la Representation en France de la Commission européenne, Brussels.) Eurostat (2001) Structural Indicators: Tax Rate on Low Wage Earners, General Statistics Collection, November. Evans, J. (1999) The French European elections, The Consortium for Political Research Newsletter, Autumn, p. 19. Evans, J. (2000) Contrasting attitudinal bases to Euroscepticism among the French electorate, Electoral Studies, 19, 539–61. Evans, J. (2001) Europe and the French party system: a unique stability from opposing dynamics, Paper presented at the Annual Conference of the Association for the Study of Modern and Contemporary France, University of Portsmouth. Evans, J. (2003) The French Party System, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Eymeri, J.-M. (2002) Définir ‘la position de la France’ dans l’Union européenne. La mediation interministérielle des généralistes du SGCI, in O.Nay and A.Smith (eds) Le gouvernement du compromis. Courtiers et généralistes dans l’action politique, Paris: Economica. Fieschi, C. (2002) Europe and the French presidential and legislative elections of April/May and June 2002, OERN Election Briefing No. 4, Brighton, University of Sussex/Sussex European Institute. Fougère, L. (1975) Le Conseil d’État. Son histoire a travers les documents de l’époque, 1799– 1974, Paris: Editions du CNRS. Fourquet, J. (1999) Radiographie du vote Pasqua: les prémices d’un nouveau courant politique a droite?, Politique Opinion, 1 December. Available from: http://www.politiqueopinion.com/analyses Fourquet, J. (2001) De la percée des européennes aux cantonales et municipales de 2001: elements d’analyse sur le courant souverainiste de droite a la veille de la présidentielle, Working paper, Paris: CEVIPOF. Available from: http://www.cevipof.msh-paris.fr/moment/rpf/doc0000.htm Frank, R. (2002) La France de 2002 est-elle eurofrileuse?, Revue politique et parlementaire, 1017 (8), 190–9. Franklin, M., Marsh, M. and McLaren, L. (1994) Uncorking the bottle: popular opposition to European unification in the wake of Maastricht, Journal of Common Market Studies, 32 (4), 101–17. Friot, B. (1998) Puissance du salariat. Emploi et protection sociale a la française, Paris: La Dispute. Gabel, M. (1998) Interests and Integration: Market Liberalization, Public Opinion and European Union, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Gaudin, J.-P. (1999) Gouverner par contrat. L’action publique en question, Paris: Presses de Sciences Po.

Bibliography

157

Georgakakis, D. (2002) Les métiers de l’Europe politique. Acteurs et professionnalisations de l’Union européenne, Strasbourg: PUS. Gerbet, P. (1995) La France et l’intégration européenne, Berne: Euroclio/Peter Lang. Germanangue, M. (1995) Le Mouvement Européen et la France: les limites de la logique de réseau, in A.Colonomos (ed.) Sociologie des réseaux transnationaux, Paris: L’Harmattan, 232–3. Goetz, K.H. and Hix, S. (2000) Europeanised politics? European integration and national political systems, West European Politics, 23 (4). Gordon, P. and Meunier, S. (2001) The French Challenge. Adapting to Globalization, Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution. Gough, I. (1997) Social aspects of the European model and its economic consequences, in W.Beck, L.van der Maesen and A.Walker (eds) The Social Quality of Europe, The Hague: Kluwer Law International, 79–96. Grahl, J. and Teague, P. (1997) Is the European Social Model fragmenting?, New Political Economy, 2 (3), 405–26. Grant, C. (2003) Transatlantic Rift: How to Bring the Two Sides Together, London: Centre for European Reform. Green Cowles, M., Caporaso, J.A. and Risse, T. (eds) (2001) Transforming Europe. Europeanization and Domestic Change, Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. Gubert, R. and Saint-Martin, E. (2003) L’Arrogance française, Paris: Balland. Gueldry, M. (2001) France and European Integration: Toward a Transnational Polity?, Westport, Conn./London: Praeger. Gueldry, M. (2003) The European Union and France’s institutional architecture, Contemporary French Civilization, 27 (1), 71–93. Guerin Lavignotte, E. (2002) Les experts de l’Europe au ‘local’. Critères d’identification et de differentiation sur un marché de l’expertise locale en pleine mutation, in D.Georgakakis (ed.) Les métiers de l’Europe politique. Acteurs et professionnalisations de l’Union européenne, Strasbourg: PUS, 217–40. Guillén, A. (2003) Researching the European social model from a comparative perspective, CrossNational Research Papers, 7(1), 5–7. Guiraudon, V. (2000) L’espace sociopolitique européen, un champ encore en friche?, Cultures et conflits, 38/39, 7–37. Guyomarch et al. (1998) France in the European Union, Macmillan. Hall, P., Heyward, J. and Machin, H. (eds) (1990) Developments in French Politics, London: Macmillan. Hanley, D. (1999) Living with instability, in D.Broughton and M.Donovan (eds) Changing Party Systems in Western Europe, London and New York: Pinter, 48–70. Hay, C. and Rosamond, B. (2002) Globalization, European integration and the discursive construction of economic imperatives, Journal of European Public Policy, 9 (2), 147–67. Hazareesingh, S. (1994) Political Traditions in Modern France, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hemerijck, A. (2002) The self-transformation of the European Social Model(s), in G.EspingAndersen, with D.Gallie, A.Hemerijck and J.Myles, Why We Need a New Welfare State, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 173–214. Héritier, A., Kerwer, D., Knill, C., Lehmkuhl, D. and Teutsch, M. (2002) Differential Europe— New Opportunities and Restrictions for Policy Making in Member States, Lanham, Md.: Rowan and Littlefield. Hix, S. (1999a) The Political System of the European Union, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Hix, S. (1999b) Dimensions and alignments in European Union politics: cognitive constraints and partisan responses, European Journal of Political Research, 35 (1), 69–106. Hoffmann, S. (1995) Thoughts on sovereignty and French politics, in G. Flynn (ed.) Remaking the Hexagon. The New France in the New Europe, Boulder, Colo.: Westview. Howarth, D. (2001) France, in J.Lodge (ed.) The 1999 Elections to the European Parliament, Basingstoke: Palgrave.

Bibliography

158

Howarth, D. and Varouxakis, G. (2003) Contemporary France. An Introduction to French Politics and Society, London: Arnold. IPSOS (2001) La France des cadres actifs 2001, Communiqué de presse, 26pp. Jessop, B. (2002) The Future of the Capitalist State, Cambridge: Polity Press. Jospin, L. (2001) Quelle ambition pour le modèle social européen?, Speech to regional forum on the future of Europe, Rennes, 29 October. Kassim, H. (1997) French autonomy and the European Union, Modern and Contemporary France, 5 (2), 167–80. Kassim, H. and Menon, A. (eds) (1996) The European Union and National Industrial Policy, London: Routledge. Kessler, M.C. (1968) Le Conseil d’État, Paris: Armand Colin. Kessler, M.C. (1993) L’évasion des membres du Conseil d’État vers le secteur privé, in CURAPP, Le droit administratif en mutation, Paris: Presses universitaires de France. Klau, T. (2002) What does France want?, Prospect, March, 36–40. Knapp, A. (1994) Gaullism Since de Gaulle, Aldershot: Dartmouth. L’Huillier, J. (1953) Une conquête du droit administratif français: le contentieux de la Communauté européenne du charbon et de l’acier (Recueil Dalloz, XII). L’Humanité (1989) Transfert de souveraineté. Le droit français bafoué, 26 October. La Croix (1997) Marceau Long a la tête du Conseil d’État, 11 February. Lachaume, J.-F. (1990) Une victoire de l’ordre juridique communautaire: l’arrêt Nicolo consacrant la supériorité des traités sur les lois postérieures, Revue du Marché commun, 33. Ladrech, R. (1994) Europeanization of domestic politics and institutions: the case of France, Journal of Common Market Studies, 32 (1), 69–88. Lamy, P. (1993) L’Etat et la construction européenne, CFDT Magazine, 110. Lanxade, J. (2002) Organiser la politique européenne et internationale de la France (La Documentation française—Commissariat général du Plan). Latour, B. (2002) La fabrique du droit. Une ethnographie du Conseil d’État, Paris: La Découverte. Le Figaro (1992) L’Europe du droit se construit. Entretien avec Marceau Long, 21 May. Le Monde (1987) M.Marceau Long, vice-président du Conseil d’État. Le symbole de la continuité de l’État, 11 February. Le Monde (1989) Un revirement spectaculaire, 21 October. Le Monde (2002) Le Style du Monde, Paris. Le Point (1991) Marceau Long. Premier fonctionnaire de France, 13 January. Lequesne, C. (2003) French views of the European convention, US-France Analysis Series, Washington DC: Brookings Institution (January). Lèvêque, S. (1996) La construction journalistique d’une catégorie du débat public, These pour le doctorat de science politique, Université de Paris I, 550pp. Levy, J. (2001) Partisan politics and welfare adjustment: the case of France, Journal of European Public Policy, 8 (2), 265–85. Lindblom, A. (2002) The politics of welfare state reform (review article), Journal of European Public Policy, 9 (2), 311–21. Malo, M.A., Toharia, L. and Gautié, J. (2000) France: the deregulation that never existed, in G.Esping-Andersen and M.Regini (eds) Why Deregulate Labour Markets?, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 245–70. Mangenot, M. (2000) Une Europe improbable. Les hauts fonctionnaires dans la construction européenne 1948–1992, Thesis (Ph. D.), Université Robert Schuman de Strasbourg. Mangenot, M. (2005) De l’Etat a l’Europe. Les hauts fonctionnaires français aux origines des institutions européennes, Strasbourg: Strasbourg University Press. Marchetti, D. (2002) L’internationale des images, Actes de la recherche en sciences sociales, 145, 71–83. MEDEF (2001) Retraites: pour garantir l’avenir agir aujourd’hui!, Refondation Sociale document, January.

Bibliography

159

Milner, S. (1992) French trade unions and the Single Market, Modern and Contemporary France, 51, 11–21. Milner, S. (2002) An ambiguous reform: the Jospin government and working time reduction, Modern and Contemporary France, August. Milner, S. (2004) For an alternative Europe: Euroscepticism and the French left since the Maastricht Treaty, European Studies, 20, 59–83. Mischi, J. and Weisbein, J. (2004) L’Europe comme cause politique proche. Contestation et promotion de l’intégration communautaire dans l’espace local, Politique européenne, 12, 84– 104. Moravcsik, A. and Nicolaïdis, K. (1998) Keynote article: federal ideals and constitutional realities in the Treaty of Amsterdam, Journal of Common Market Studies: Annual Review, 36, 13–38. Moreau Defarges, P. (2003) The view from France: steadfast and changing, in S. Serfaty (ed.) The European Finality Debate and its National Dimensions, Washington, DC: CSIS Press. Moscovici, P. (2000) La tâche des gouvernants, in J.-N.Jeanney (ed.) Une idée fausse est un fait vrai. Les stereotypes nationaux en Europe, Paris: Odile Jacob. Mouvement européen France (1996) Reformer le mode de scrutin européen, Les études du Mouvement européen, 1. Murray, A. (2004) The Lisbon Scorecard IV. The Status of Economic Reform in the Enlarging EU, London: Centre for Economic Reform. Myles, J. and Quadagno, J. (1997) Recent trends in public pension reform: a comparative view, in K.Banting and R.Broadway (eds) Reform of Retirement Income Policy. International and Canadian Perspectives, Kingston, Ontario: School of Policy Studies, 247–72. Neveu, E. (2003) L’Europe comme ‘communauté inimaginable?’ L’échec du maga zine français ‘L’Européen’ (Mars-Juillet 1998), in D.Marchetti (ed.) Signifier L’Europe, Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes. Notre Europe (2001) La Réforme du Conseil des Ministres de l’Union européenne, Compte rendu du séminaire organise a Paris le 4, septembre 2000. Palier, B. (2000) ‘Defrosting’ the French welfare state, West European Politics, 23 (2), 113–36. Parsons, C. (2000) Showing ideas as causes: the origins of the European Union, International Organization, 56, 1, 47–84. Parsons, C. (2003) A Certain Idea of Europe, Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. Pasquier, R. (2003) La régionalisation française revisitée: fédéralisme, mouvement regional et elites modernisatrices (1950–1964), Revue Française de Science Politique, 53(1), 101–25. Pasquier, R. and Weisbein, J. (2004) L’Europe au microscope du local. Manifeste pour une sociologie politique de l’intégration communautaire, Politique européenne, 12, 5–21. Pierson, P. (2001) The New Politics of the Welfare State, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Putnam, R.D. (1988) Diplomacy and domestic politics: the logic of two-level games, International Organization, 42 (3), 427–60. Questiaux, N. (1997) Le Conseil d’État et la norme communautaire: l’hybridation en tant que technique juridique, Florence, Jean Monnet Chair Papers 43, Robert Schuman Centre at the European University Institute. Raffarin, J.-P. (2002) Launch of the regional forums on Europe (6 December, Orléans). Reif, K. and Schmitt, H. (1980) Nine second-order national elections: a conceptual framework for the analysis of European election results, European Journal of Political Research, 8 (1), 3–45. Reynié, D. (ed.) (2003) Les Européens en 2003, Paris: Presses de la Fondation Nationale de Sciences Politiques. Reynié, D. and Cautrès, B. (eds) (2001) L’Opinion européenne, Paris: Presses de la Fondation Nationale de Sciences Politiques. Sa’adah, A. (2003) Contemporary France. A Democratic Education, Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield. Sabourin, P. (1993) Commentaire sur le rapport public 1992 du Conseil d’État, La revue administrative, 275.

Bibliography

160

Sauron, J.L. (2000a) The French Administration and the European Union, Paris: La Documentation française. Sauron, L. (2000b) L’application du droit de l’Union européenne en France, Paris: La Documentation française. Scharpf, F. (2002) The European Social Model: coping with the challenges of diversity, Journal of Common Market Studies, 40 (4), 645–70. Schild, J. (2001) National v. European identities? French and Germans in the European multi-level system, Journal of Common Market Studies, 39 (2), 331–51. Schild, J. (2004) La France, l’Allemagne et la Constitution européenne: un bilan mitigé, un leadership contesté, IFRI (Note du Cerfa no. 10, March), http://www.ifri.org/ Schnapper, P. (2000) La Grande-Bretagne et l’Europe. Le grand malentendu, Paris: Presses de Science Po. Serres, H. (1998) Etude de la construction européenne a travers le journal Le Monde: 1950–1962, Mémoire de maîtrise en sciences historiques, Strasbourg: Université des Sciences Humaines de Strasbourg. Shields, J. (1996) The French Gaullists, in J.Gaffney (ed.) Political Parties and the European Union, London: Routledge, 86–109. Simonet, M. (1998) Le bénévole et le volunteer: ce que traduire veut dire, in Une seule solution, l’association? Socio-économie du fait associatif, Paris: La Découverte/MAUSS, 57–64. Smismans, S. (2002) ‘Civil society’ in European institutional discourses, Cahiers européens de Sciences Po, 4. Startin, N. (2002a) Increased salience and opposition: the troubled evolution of Europe and the French right, European Consortium for Political Research Conference paper, Bordeaux University. Startin, N. (2002b) Partis et Patries: the troubled evolution of Europe and the French right, Conference paper, 32nd Annual Conference and 7th Research Conference of the University Association for Contemporary European Studies, Queen’s University Belfast. Stevens, A. (2003) Government and Politics of France (3rd edn), Basingstoke: Palgrave. Stirn, B. (1991) Le Conseil d’État, son rôle, sa jurisprudence, Paris: Hachette. Taggart, P. (1998) A touchstone of dissent: Euroscepticism in contemporary West European party systems, The European Journal of Political Research, 33 (3), 363–88. Taggart, P. and Sczerbiak, A. (2002) The Party Politics of Euroscepticism in EU Member and Candidate States, SEI Working Paper No. 51/OERN Working Paper No. 6, Brighton: University of Sussex/Sussex European Institute. Vaïsse, J. (2003) Making sense of French foreign policy, In the National Interest, July 2. Available from: http://www.brook.edu/views/op-ed/fellows/%20vaisse20030702.htm Van der Eijk, C. and Franklin, M. (eds) (1996) Choosing Europe? The European Electorate and National Politics in the Face of Union, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Védrine, H. (2000) Les Cartes de la France a l’heure de la mondialisation, Paris: Fayard. Vobruba, G. (2003) Conceptualising the impact of economic globalisation on the European social model, Cross-National Research Papers, 7(1), 8–18. Weisbein, J. (2000) Construire la citoyenneté européenne? Les contributions associatives a l’Europe politique, La Lettre de la Maison française d’Oxford, 12, 69–72. Weisbein, J. (2002) Le lobbying associatif a Bruxelles entre mobilisations unitaires et sectorielles, Revue internationale de politique comparée, 9(1), 79–98. Weisbein, J. (2003) Représenter ou (faire) figurer le citoyen dans l’Union européenne? Les contributions associatives a la fabrique des dispositions citoyennes en Europe, in S.Saurugger (ed.) Les modes de representation dans l’Union européenne, Paris: L’Harmattan, 227–47. Windebank, J. and Williams, C. (1992) Implications of the single European Market for the informal economy in France, Modern and Contemporary France, 51, 22–31. Wright, V. (1972) Le Conseil d’État sous le second Empire, Paris: Armand Colin.

Bibliography

161

Further reading Barre, R. (1976) Discours de Monsieur Raymond Barre a l’Assemblée Nationale (investiture speech), Paris, 5 October. Cathala, J. and Predali J.-P. (2002) Nous sommes tant hais 1997–2002: Voyage au centre de la droite, Paris: Editions du Seuil. Chirac, J. (1999) Message au Parlement de Monsieur Jacques Chirac President de la République a l’occasion de l’ouverture du débat sur la ratification du Traité d’Amsterdam, Paris, 2 March. Cohen-Tanugi, L. (1995) Le débat sur l’Europe, in Regards sur l’actualité, March-April. Cole, A. (2001) National and partisan contexts of Europeanization: the case of the French socialists, Journal of Common Market Studies, 39 (1), 15–36. Conseil d’Analyse Économique (2000) Rapport sur les questions européennes, Paris. Conseil d’État (1982) Droit communautaire et droit français, Paris: La Documentation française. Conseil d’État (2001) L’influence internationale du droit français, Paris: La Documentation française. Conseil d’État, Comité du rayonnement français (1989) Quel droit en Europe? Quel droit pour l’Europe?, Actes du colloque international, Cannes. Costa, O., Couvidat, A. and Daloz, J.-P. (2003) France, in O.Elgstrom (ed.) European Union Council Presidencies: A Comparative Study, London: Routledge. Drake, H. and Milner, S. (1999) Change and resistance to change: the political management of Europeanisation in France, Modern and Contemporary France, 7 (2), 165–78. Duhamel, O. and Grunberg, G. (1993) Referendum: les dix France, in SOFRES L’Etat de l’Opinion, 79–85. Edye, D. and Delgado-Moreira, J. (2001) To Belong or Not to Belong: Can We Research People’s Attitudes to EU Citizenship?, EUI Working Papers HEC, San Domenico: European University Institute. Flood, C. (2000) Euroscepticism in the ideology of the British right, in N.Parker and B.Armstrong (eds) Margins in European Integration, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 178–202. Flood, C. (2002) The challenge of Euroscepticism, in J.Gower (ed.) The European Union Handbook (2nd edn), London and Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn, 73–84. Gabel, M. (2000) European integration, voters and national politics, West European Politics, 23 (4), 52–72. Gaffney, J. (ed.) (1996) Political Parties and the European Union, London: Routledge. Grunberg, G. (2000) Why did the right lose?, in M.Lewis-Beck (ed.) How France Votes, New York: Chatham House, 115–29. Guyomarch, A., Machin, H. and Ritchie, E. (1998) France in the European Union, London: Macmillan. Hanley, D. (2001) French political parties, globalisation and Europe, Modern and Contemporary France, 9 (3), 301–12. Hedetoft, U. (ed.) (1998) Political Symbols, Symbolic Politics: European Identities in Transformation, Aldershot: Ashgate. Howarth, D. (2002) The European policy of the Jospin government: a new twist to old French games, Modern and Contemporary France, 10 (3), 353–69. Ivaldi, G. (1999) La liste Pasqua-De Villiers aux élections du 13 juin 1999, Revue Française de Science Politique, 49, 643–51. Jeanney, J.-N. (ed.) (2000) Une idée fausse est un fait vrai: les stereotypes nationaux en Europe, Paris: Odile Jacob. Kirchner, E.-J. (1992) The Council Presidency and European Integration, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Knapp, A. (1999) What’s left of the French right? The RPR and UDF from conquest to humiliation, West European Politics, 22 (3), 109–38.

Bibliography

162

Ladrech. R. (1994) Europeanization of domestic politics and institutions: the case of France, JCMS, March. Lequesne, C. (1993) Paris-Bruxelles. Comment se fait la politique européenne de la France, Paris: FNSP. Lequesne, C. (1996) Union européenne et coordination gouvernementale. Quid novi en France?, in F.D’Arcy and L.Rouban (eds) De la Cinquième République à l’Europe. Hommage à J.L.Quermonne, Paris: Presses de Sciences Po. Lequesne, C. (1993) Paris-Bruxelles. Comment se fait la politique européenne de la France, Paris: Presses de la FNSP. Lewis-Beck, M. (ed.) (1999) How France Votes, New York: Chatham House. Mano, J. and Birenbaum G. (1997) La défaite impossible: Enquête sur les secrets d’une élection, Paris: Editions Ramsay. Marks, G. and Wilson, C. (1999) National parties and the contestation of Europe, in T.Banchoff and Mitchell P.Smith (eds) Legitimacy and the EU: The Contested Party, London: Routledge. Mayer, N. (1995) Elections and the left-right division in France, French Politics and Society, 13 (1). Mechet, P. (2000) Européennes 1999: entre demobilisation et dispersion, L’Etat de l’Opinion, SOFRES: Editions Seuil, 11–31. Milner, S. (2000) Euroscepticism in France and changing state-society relations, Journal of European Integration, 22 (1), 35–58. Milner, S. (2004) For an alternative Europe: Euroscepticism and the French left since the Maastricht Treaty, European Studies, 20, 59–81. Ministère des affaires étrangères (2000) Présidence française du Conseil de l’UE: Aide Mémoire, Paris, 59 pp. Neocleous, M. and Startin, N. (2003) Protest and fail to survive: Le Pen and the great moving right show, Politics, 23 (3), 145–55. Pecheron, A. (1991) Les Francais et l’Europe: acquiescement de façade ou adhesion veritable, in Revue Française de Science Politique, 41, 382–406. Perrineau, P. (1995) Election cycles and changing patterns of political behaviour in France, French Politics and Society, 13, (1), 45–53. Peterson, J. and Bomberg, E. (1999) Decision-Making in the European Union, London: Macmillan Press. Ray, L. (1999) Measuring party orientations towards European integration: results from an expert survey, European Journal of Political Research, 36 (2), 283–306. Reynié, D. (2001) Scepticisme populaire et enthousiasme d’élite. Les Français face à l’euro, in B.Cautrès and D.Reynié (eds) L’opinion européenne 2001, Paris: Presses de Science Po. Rocard, M. (1988) Discours de Michel Rocard à l’Assemblée Nationale (investiture speech), Paris, 29 June. Ross, G. (2000) Europe becomes French domestic politics, in M.Lewis-Beck (ed.) How France Votes, New York: Chatham House, 87–114. Sauron, J.L. (2000) La Fonction Présidentielle de l’Union européenne: le cas de la présidence française de l’Union européenne du second semestre 2000, Revue du Marché commun et de l’Union européenne. Schmitt, H. and Thomassen, J. (eds) (1999) Political Representation and Legitimacy in the European Union, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Startin, N. (1997) ‘French political parties, Europe and the Maastricht Treaty’, M. Phil thesis, Birmingham University. Usherwood, S. (2002) Opposition to the European Union in France: a challenge to French leadership, University Association of Contemporary European Studies Conference paper, Queens University Belfast. Westlake M. (1998) The Council of the European Union, London: Cartermill Publishing.

Bibliography

163

Wood, P. (1997) French political party opposition to European integration, 1981–1996: myth or reality, in A.Cafruny and C.Lankowski (eds) Europe’s Ambiguous Unity: Conflict and Consensus in the Post Maastricht Era, Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 131–53.

Index Note: page numbers in italics refer to figures or tables

Abraham, Ronny 99 administrative law 16–17, 86, 88, 100, 165, 166–7; see also Conseil d’État Agence Europe 135 Agra Europe office 129, 130 alternance 14 Amsterdam Treaty 43, 69, 110, 171 anti-discrimination directive 105 anti-EU far right 5–6 anti-federalism 58, 67 anti-globalisation 170 anti-militarism 54 arrogance 30–1, 34–5, 168 Association professionelle des magistrats 100 asylum seekers 51, 55 Aubry, Martine 107–8, 114, 118, 119, 153 Austria 24–5, 43 L’Autre Europe 58, 68 L’Autre Politique 58 Baisnée, O. 17, 166 Balladur, Edouard 58, 115 Barnier, Michel 159 Bayrou, François 59, 61, 68, 81 Belgium 25, 30 Benoit, Bertrand 51 Bérégovoy, Pierre 84n5 Bérès, Pervenche 153, 163n16 Bert, Thierry 100 Biancarelli, Jacques 98 Blair, Tony 27, 111 Boisdeffre, Martine de 98 Bonichot, Jean-Claude 98 Bonnet, François 137 Bouget, Denis 117 Bourlanges, Jean-Louis 109, 155, 158 Boutin, Christine 61 Bové, José 170

Index

165

Braibant, Guy 95, 110, 121 Bresson, Jean-Jacques de 90 Brussels Club 129, 144n14 Brussels correspondents 125–6; contacts 126–8; Le Monde 129, 137–9; selling stories 131–7 Bulmer, S. 3 Burin des Roziers, Etienne 90 Bush, G.W. 12 BVA poll 60 CAFECS (Carrefour des associations pour une Europe civique et sociale) 153, 154–6, 160 Cannes conference 93 Carrefour des associations pour une Europe civique et sociale see CAFECS case law 87, 90 Cassation, Cour de 90 Cautrès, B. 141–2 Cayla, Olivier 89 CCOMCEN (Comité de coordination des Oeuvres mutualistes et coopératives de l’Education nationale) 153, 163n10 CEDAG (European Council for Voluntary Organisations) 148, 151, 152 Centre for European Reform 116 Cercles Condorcet 149 CERES 57 CFSP (common foreign and security policy) 13, 29, 82 CGT (Confédération Générale du Travail) 119 Chasse-Pêche-Nature-Tradition (CPNT) 58, 69, 70 Chevènement, Jean-Pierre: L’Autre Politique 58; CERES 57; Corsica 61; elections 14, 62; MDC/MRC 54, 84n6 Chirac, Jacques 2, 4, 6, 173; CFSP 82; cohabitation 10, 16; Conseil d’État 91; diplomatic style 10; election 64; EU presidency 35; European Constitution 37; European integration 58; European social model 105, 110–11, 121–2; Eurosceptics 14; French MEPs 170–1; integration 58; Iraq war 39, 82–3; and Jospin 8, 10; nuclear testing 22, 33; pro-European 65;

Index

166

rhetoric 11; social policy 105; UMP 168, 172 Christian Democrats 64, 77 Citizens’ Europe 36–7 citizenship 36–7, 146 civil society 146–7, 154 Clausade, Josseline de 98, 99 cleavages in European Union 28, 29, 75, 82 Club Convaincre 159 Club Témoin 159 CNIP 57 CNPF (Conseil National du Patronat Français) 113 CNVA (Conseil national de la vie associative) 151, 152 cohabitation 7, 8–10, 13, 16, 111, 158 Cohen, Philippe 62 Cohesion Fund 55 cold war 11 collective bargaining 108, 109, 119 Combat pour les Valeurs 57, 67, 84n4 Comité de coordination des Oeuvres mutualistes et coopératives de l’Education nationale see CCOMCEN Comité européen des associations d’intérêt general 148 Committee of Wise Men 153, 163n16 Common Agricultural Policy 55, 70, 83 common foreign and security policy (CFSP) 13, 29, 82 Communists 48, 54, 157; see also LCR; PCF Confédération Générale du Travail (CGT) 119 Conference permanente des coordinations associatives (CPCA) 151 Confrontations 153, 159, 163n15 Conrad, Y. 128 Conseil d’État: Cannes conference 93; career prospects 168; case law 87, 90; Chirac 91; European Court of Justice 87–90; European expertise 97–100; European integration 15–17, 87, 165; Europeanisation 86; institutional status 101; membership changes 90–1, 99–100, 167, 168; Nicolo ruling 16, 86, 87–90; ‘On Community Law’ 95–7; reversal 90–3, 167; rewriting legal powers 93–5; see also administrative law Conseil national de la vie associative (CNVA) 151, 152 Conseil National du Patronat Français (CNPF) 113

Index

167

Constitutional Council 167 construction européenne 4, 10, 164, 173 contracts, temporary/fixed term 118 contractualism 149 Contribution Sociale Généralisée (CSG) 113–14 Convention of the Future of Europe 10, 39, 154 Convention on the European Constitution 154 Coron, Gaël 113 Corsica 61 Costa, O. 13, 168 Costa v. ENEL case 93 Council of Europe 132 Couteaux, Paul-Marie 62 CPCA (Conference permanente des coordinations associatives) 151 CPNT (Chasse-Pêche-Nature- Tradition) 59, 69, 70 Cresson, Edith 84n5, 98 CSA poll 62, 122 CSG (Contribution Sociale Généralisée) 113–14 Daloz, J.-P. 13, 168 Dalton, R. 75 Debray, Régis 62 Declair, E. 80 Delors, Jacques 2, 32; Club Témoin 159; European Commission 43; European social model 107, 123n3; and Lamy 100; Notre Europe 156 Démocratie Libérale see DL Denmark 25 Déo, Stéphane 116 Dewost, Jean-Louis 88, 101, 102 diplomacy 10, 164, 168 DL (Démocratie Libérale): Maastricht Treaty 72; Madelin 59; RPR 69, 83–4n1; survey 66, 70, 76, 77, 79; UMP15 domestic policy 106–10 La Droite Indépendante (LDI) 59 Dumartin, S. 140 Dumas, Roland 98 Durafour, Michel 98 ECAS (Euro-Citizens’ Action Service) 148 les Echos 141 ecologism 54 economic restructuring 118

Index

The Economist 116 education 3, 47 electoral systems 171 elite actors: European integration 1–3, 21, 75–9; Euroscepticism 42–3; National Assembly 70–5; realignment 77–80; republicanism 61; right wing 15, 66; UDF 77 employers’ organisation 115, 118, 170 employment: contracts, temporary/fixed term 118; European regulatory framework 119; incentivisation 120; low-paid 113, 123n8; Luxembourg process 117; reforms 122; welfare 112 employment targets 105, 109 EMU see European Monetary Union Euro 5, 69, 73, 76–7, 81 Euro-Citizens’ Action Service (ECAS) 148 Eurobarometer surveys 43–6, 47, 48 Euronews 17–18 Europartenaires 156, 159 Europe, Eastern 51, 74 Europe 99 153, 163n14 Europe des Nations vision 69, 71, 173 Europe of Civil and Social Rights 153 European Anti-Poverty Network 148 European Association 151 European Commission 43, 125, 147, 150 European company statute 105 European Constitution 22, 37, 40n2, 154, 173 European Council 21–2, 40n2, 132 European Court of Justice 86, 87–90, 92, 97 European defence cooperation 54 European integration: Chirac 58; Conseil d’État 15–17, 87, 165; elite actors 1–3, 21, 75–9; national institutions 13; national sovereignty 5; public opinion 109–10, 165; resistance to 4; right wing 64–70; RPF 78–9; social status 141; UDF 48, 57, 59, 64, 69–70, 76, 79

168

Index

169

European Monetary Union (EMU) 29, 43, 46, 51, 58 European Parliament: CAFECS 155; elections 5, 6, 7, 9, 46, 56–7; European Association 151; press coverage 133 European Single Market 43, 92, 94, 98, 146 European Social Agenda 105, 116 European social model 120–1; Chirac 105, 110–11, 121–2; Delors 107, 123n3; French perspective 109–10; Jospin 111; left wing 17, 169–70; PS 106, 111–12; UK 107; welfare expenditure 108 European Union 1–2; directives/national law 167; enlargement 8–9, 46, 74, 83, 84n8, 85n11; harmonisation 56; homogenisation 54; member state cleavages 28; as power bloc 11; presidency 33–9; press 124–5, 131–4, 137–43, 166; la vie associative 146–7, 148–9 Europeanisation 10, 165–71; Conseil d’État 86; domestic/international interests 106–10; Maastricht 67–8; professionalisation 150; social security 117; la vie associative 147–9, 152–3, 158–9, 160–1, 168–9 Europhiles 29 Europolitique 127, 129 EuroPQN survey 142 Euroscepticism 48, 49–50; Chirac 14; cleavages 29, 82; elections 84n2; elite actors 42–3; Euro 76–7, 81; ideology 42–3, 51–6; Le Pen 14, 61, 62; left wing 51, 52–3, 54, 110; media 42; public attitudes 43–51; RPR 58–9, 75; UK 27;

Index

UMP 82 Eurozone Growth and Stability Pact 10, 164 Evans, Jocelyn 63 exception culturelle 31 L’Express 140 Fabius, Laurent 34, 116 fait accompli tactic 34 federalism 155, 157–8; right wing 71; UDF 15, 71, 73; la vie associative 19, 146–7 Fédération humaniste européenne 149 Federations des Oeuvres laïques 149 Le Figaro 96, 141 Fillon, François 114–15 Financial Times 135, 142 Finland 25–6, 28, 30, 43 Fischer, Joschka 9, 158 Fiterman, Charles 153, 156, 159, 163n16 Fitoussi, Jean-Paul 109 Flood, C. 10, 14, 166, 167–8, 171 FN (Front National) 69; European integration 57; Euroscepticism 54, 58, 59, 60, 63n2, 66; Maastricht referendum 67, 68; power struggle 84–5n9; Single European Act 80–1; voters 48 FO (Force Ouvrière) 119 Fonda 151, 152, 153, 162n9 Fondation du 2 Mars 62 Fondation Marc-Bloch 61–2 Force Ouvrière (FO) 119 Forum Alternative Européenne 156, 159 Forum permanent de la société civile 148, 154 Foucauld, Jean-Baptiste de 153, 163n16 Fouchet Plans 173 Fralon, José-Alain 129, 144n15 France: constitution 2, 86, 88; decision- making 30; European Union 1–2; as member state 29–30; self-perceptions 30–2; stereotypes 21, 22–4, 38 France-US relations 11, 12 Franco-German relations 9–10, 33, 164 freedoms/law 103n24 French EU presidency (2000) 33–9

170

Index

171

French language 12 French Permanent Representation 23, 34, 36, 93, 99 Front National see FN Frydman, Patrick 87, 88 Fundamental Rights Charter 105, 149, 152, 154 Gallo, Max 62 Galmot, Yves 92, 98 Gaudet, Michel 87 Gaulle, Charles de 2, 4, 5, 11, 15, 173 Gaullism 63n3, 64, 65; Christian Democrats 77; legacy 14, 61, 167; national identity 11 gender factors, opinion polls 46–7 Genevois, Bruno 91 Germany 24, 30, 161n1; see also Franco-German relations Giraudy, Jean-Louis 129 Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry 2, 32, 39, 82 globalisation 12, 51, 54, 108 Gluckstein, André 61 Goldsmith, Sir James 58, 84n4 Gordon, P. 170 governance models 21, 154 Grahl, John 107 Grant, C. 11 Greece 26 Green parties see Les Verts Grenoble Political Studies Institute 129 Grévisse, Fernand 90, 97 Groupement national associatif pour l’économie sociale 152 Groux, Guy 92 Growth and Stability Pact 10, 164 Guigou, Elisabeth 98, 153, 156, 159 Guillaume, Gilbert 99 Guillebaud, Jean-Claude 62 Hanley, David 65 harmonisation 56 Hay, C. 122 health reforms 114 Hemerijck, Anton 108 Herzog, Philippe 159 Hue, Bernard 61 Idrac, Anne-Marie 158 IFOP exit poll 46, 60 IGC see Intergovernmental Conference immigration 51, 55

Index

172

imperialism 31 income 47 income benefit 120 INGOs (International Non- governmental Organisations) 151, 152 interdependence 2, 7–8 Intergovernmental Conference 34, 62, 135, 152, 154, 157 International European Movement 163n12 International Herald Tribune 142 Ipsos survey 47 Iraq war 11, 29, 39, 82–3, 85n13, 164 Ireland 26, 28–9 Italy 26, 28–9 JEF (Jeunes européens France) 155–8 job creation 120 Jospin, Lionel: and Chirac 8, 10; EU 35, 58, 160; European social model 111; French style 34; gauche plurielle 17; labour market reform 121; law/EU directives 101; MEF 158; unemployment 118 le Journal du Dimanche 141 Juppé, Alain 68, 114 Kahn, Jean-François 62 Klau, Thomas 173 Kohl, Helmut 9 labour market reforms 108–9, 112–20, 121 Ladrech, R. 165 Laguiller, Arlette 61 Lamassoure, Alain 98 Lamy, Pascal 8, 100 law 16; European directives 101; freedoms 103n24; national 167; treaty 87–90, 96 LCR (Ligue Communiste Révolutionnaire) 54, 57, 59, 69 LDE (Ligue de l’enseignement) 148–9 LDH (Ligue des droits de l’homme) 149, 153 LDI (La Droite Indépendante) 59 Le Pen, Jean-Marie 67; elections 58; Euroscepticism 14, 61, 62; France First 80;

Index

173

power struggle 84–5n9 left wing 48; European social model 17, 169–70; Euroscepticism 51, 52–3, 54, 110; gauche plurielle 17, 60, 111, 153, 172 Legrange, Maurice 93 Lemaître, Philippe 128–9, 129–30 Lenoir, Noëlle 101 Lequesne, C. 3 La Lettre européenne 129 Levy, Jonah 112–13, 115 liberal/anti-liberal cleavage 29 liberalisation 15 Libération 61, 141, 142 Ligue Communiste Révolutionnaire see LCR Ligue de l’enseignement see LDE Ligue des droits de l’homme (LDH) 149 Lille memorandum 110 Lindblom, Anders 112 Lisbon summit 108–9, 116, 123n4 LO (Lutte Ouvrière) 54, 57, 58, 59, 69 Long, Marceau 91–2, 93–4, 96, 103n19 Lutte Ouvrière see LO Luxembourg 26, 90 Luxembourg summit 117, 121 Maastricht referendum 43; aftermath 57, 64, 159; European integration 4; FN 67–8; Maisons de l’Europe 150; results 14, 46, 169; RPR 67; UDF 67 Maastricht Treaty 18, 72, 146, 162n4, 171 Madelin, Alain 59, 84n1 Maillard, C. 140 Maisons de l’Europe 149–50 Malliarakis, Jean-Gilles 123n11 managerialism 16, 94–5 Mangenot, M. 15–16, 166–7 Margerie, Sophie-Caroline de 99 MDC (Mouvement des Citoyens) 54, 55–6, 56, 60, 69, 84n5 MEDEF (Mouvement des Entreprises de France) 115, 118, 170 media 42, 125, 140, 143; see also press MEF (Mouvement européen France) 153, 155–8, 159–60 Mégret, Bruno 61, 84–5n9 member states 28–31, 106–10 MEPs 23, 170–1

Index

174

Meunier, S. 170 micro-sociological perspectives 3, 173 Miert, Karel Van 126 Millon, Charles 59 Milner, S. 17, 169–70 minimalism 44–6 Ministry of European Affairs 47, 153, 159 Mitterrand, François 4, 32; Eurosceptics 14; Kohl 9; social policy 105; U-turn 39; unpopularity 84n5 MN (Mouvement National) 69, 85n9 MNR 54, 59, 60 modernisation sociale, loi de 118 Mollet, Guy 123n1 Le Monde 18, 130, 167; Brussels correspondents 129, 137–9; EU page 124–5; European Union coverage 137–42, 142–3; EuroPQN survey 142; internal organisation 139; readership 139–40, 141 Monnet, Jean 2, 5, 15, 32, 173 Moravcsik, A. 33 Moreau Defarges, P. 1, 10 Moscovici, Pierre 34, 40n1, 153, 159, 160 Mouvement des Citoyens see MDC Mouvement des Entreprises de France see MEDEF Mouvement européen France see MEF Mouvement National see MN Mouvement pour la France see MPF Mouvement Républicain et Citoyen see MRC Mouvement République Populaire (MRP) 64 MPF (Mouvement pour la France) 54, 59, 69, 84n4 MRC (Mouvement Républicain et Citoyen) 54, 84n6 MRP (Mouvement République Populaire) 64 National Assembly: Députés survey 66–83; elections 84n5; elites 70–5; Maastricht Treaty 72; survey 84n7 national culture 12, 48 national identity 11, 46, 54, 61, 174 national sovereignty 72, 73; European integration 5; Gaullism 167–8;

Index

175

law 87; MRC 84n6; souverainistes 171, 172–3; sovereignty void 109 NATO 29, 51 Nenoir, Noëlle 39 neo-Gaullism 64 Nestor, Jean 155–6 Netherlands 26–7 NGOs (non-governmental organisations) 110, 161n1 Nice summit 9, 33, 34, 35, 37, 152, 158 Nice Treaty 5, 35, 43, 105, 171 Nicolaïdis, K. 33 Nicolet, Claude 62 Nicolo ruling 16, 86, 87–90 Notre Europe 156, 159 Le Nouvel Observateur 140 nuclear testing 22, 33 OECD 118 Open Method of Coordination 27 opinion polls 43, 46–7, 62, 106 Ouest-France 129, 143 Palier, Bruno 112, 113 Paolini, Marc 129 Papitto, Franco 129 Parsons, C. 168, 173 Parti Communiste Français: see PCF Parti Radical 84n1 Parti Socialiste (PS) 69, 84n5, 106, 111–12 Pasqua, Charles: losing election 82; RPF 59, 70, 80, 84n4; RPR split 57, 67; standing down 60–1; Villiers 60–1, 80 PCF (Parti Communiste Français) 54, 57, 58, 59–60, 69, 171 pensions 114–17; pay-as-you-go 109–10, 115, 116; privatisation 123n11; public sector 115 Perrin de Brichanbaut, Marc 98, 99 Petite, Michel 101 pieds noirs 129, 144n16 Pierson, Paul 113, 115 Pinau, Dorothée 98 Pinault, Michel 92–3 Plateforme des ONG du secteur social 148

Index

policing 48 policy coordination 111 Portugal 27 praetorian concept 88 presidency function 21–2, 24–7, 40n2 presidentialism 8 press: Brussels veterans 125–31; circulation figures 136, 137, 143; Euronews 17–18; European Parliament 133; European Union coverage 124–5, 131–4, 166; readership 139–41; see also Le Monde PRG (parti des républicains de gauche) 157 prioritisation 31 private sector pensions 115 pro-sovereignty 67 professionalisation 150 professionalisation, voluntary work 150 Projet d’Aide au Retour a l’Emploi 119 PS (Parti Socialiste) 84n5; European integration 17; European social model 106, 111–12; Euroscepticism 54; Maastricht referendum 57; MEF 156, 158; regional elections 171; voters 48 public management 149 public opinion: age factors 47; Eurobarometer surveys 43–6; European integration 109–10, 165; gender factors 46–7 public sector 31, 102, 109, 115 Puissochet, Jean-Pierre 98, 99 Putnam, Robert 107 Quai d’Orsay 12, 13, 99 Questiaux, Nicole 104n36 Raffarin, Jean-Pierre: Chirac 16; decentralisation 6; federalism 169; Lamy 8; regional elections 171, 174n5; security 82; la vie associative 163n22

176

Index

Rajakovic, Natasa 61 Rassemblement pour la France: see RPF Rassemblement pour la République: see RPR redistributive policies 54 Refondation Sociale project 115 rejectionism 14, 43–6 Renault 118 rénovateurs 65, 83 republicanism 55–6, 61 Revenu Minimum d’Activité (RMA) 120 Revenu Minimum d’Insertion 120 revisionism 14, 44–6, 56 Reynié, D. 141–2 right wing: anti-EU 5–6; antiliberalism 55; elections 68–70; elite actors 15, 66; European integration 64–70; extreme 48, 51; federalism 71; moderates 6, 51; realignment 75–81 RMA (Revenu Minimum d’Activité) 120 Rocard, Michel 84n5, 92, 114, 120, 159 Rome Treaty 16, 86, 87, 88, 92 Rosamond, B. 122 RPF (Rassemblement pour la France) 60; anti-integration 59; demise 70; elections 69, 81; European integration 78–9; Euroscepticism 54; MPF 84n4; republicanism 55–6; de Villiers 82 RPR (Rassemblement pour la République) 48, 69; DL 69, 83–4n1; Euroscepticism 58–9, 75; Maastricht referendum 67; Maastricht Treaty 72; National Assembly survey 66, 68; pro-European 65; split 57; UDF 58, 64, 70 Saint-Josse, Laurent de 61 Santer, Jacques 100, 125

177

Index

178

Sarkozy, Nicolas 59, 69 Sauron, Jean-Luc 99 Scandinavian welfare systems 112, 121 Scharpf, Fritz 107 Schengen provisions 51, 54, 55, 56 Schröder, Gerhard 10, 158 Schuman, Robert 15, 32, 64 Scotto, Marcel 129 secularism 149 Séguin, Philippe 57, 59, 67, 68 Semoules ruling 86, 104n36 SGCI (Secrétariat général du comité interministériel) 31, 34, 35–6, 41n6, 99, 101, 170 Simmenthal case 88 Simon, Xavier 129 Single European Act 42, 64, 80–1 social Europe report 123n3 social insurance 113–14 social policy 27, 105, 106 social protection 108, 109, 110–12 social security 117 social space 92 social status factors 141 social wage 112 Socialisme et République 57 Socialist Party see PS Sofres poll 62 Soisson, Jean-Pierre 98 Solidar 148, 149 souverainistes see national sovereignty Spain 25 Startin, N. 14, 15, 166, 167–8, 172 stereotypes 13, 21, 22–4, 38–9, 168 Stevens, A. 8 Stockholm summit 105 Strasbourg Centre for European Studies 98 strikes 109 Strin, Bernard 91 Structural Funds 55 supranational concept 88, 109 Sweden 27, 28, 43 Taggart, Paul 57 Taguieff, Pierre-André 62 taxation 114, 123n8 Teague, Paul 107 Team Europe 150 Telex 130 Thibaud, Paul 62 Todd, Emmanuel 62 trade unions 110, 113, 119 treaty/law 87–90, 96

Index

179

Treaty of European Union 42, 46 La Tribune 129 Tricot, Bernard 90 Trotskyists 54 UDF (Union pour la Démocratie Française): elite actors 77; European convention 82; European integration 48, 57, 59, 64, 69–70, 76, 79; federalism 15, 71, 73; Maastricht referendum 67; Maastricht Treaty 72; MEF 157, 158; National Assembly survey 66, 68; RDR 58, 64, 70; UMP 79, 172 UMP (Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle) 64–5, 70, 77, 83–4n1; Chirac 168, 172; elites 76; European Union enlargement 83; Euroscepticism 82; federalism 15; Maastricht Treaty 72; regional elections 171; UDF 79, 172 unemployment 117–18, 119 unemployment benefit 119 Union for a Federal Europe 163n13 Union nationale interfédérale des organismes privés sanitaires et sociaux see UNIOPSS Union pour la Démocratie Française see UDF Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle see UMP Union pour un Mouvement Populaire see UMP l’Union pour une Europe fédérale 153 UNIOPSS (Union nationale interfédérale des organismes privés sanitaires et sociaux) 148, 152, 153 United Kingdom of Great Britain 27, 107 United States of America 10, 29, 51, 164 universalism concept 112 Vabre, Jacque 90 Vaisse, J. 11 Védrine, Hubert 34 Les Verts 54, 57, 60, 69, 171 la vie associative 13, 18–19, 20n3; as entrepreneurs 146, 148; European Union 146–7, 148–9; Europeanisation 147–9, 152–3, 158–9, 160–1, 168–9; federalism 19, 146–7; Maastricht Treaty 162n4; political model 151–8; projects 149

Index

Villepin, Dominique de 11, 39 Villiers, Philippe de: L’Autre Europe 58; Combat pour les Valeurs 57, 67–8, 84n4; LDI 59; MPF 69; Pasqua 60–1, 80; RPF 82 Virieu, François-Henri 129 Vobruba, G. 108, 117 voluntary associations 18–19, 150, 161n1; see also la vie associative vote utile 171 Wall Street Journal 135 Weisbein, J. 17, 18–19, 168–9 welfare expenditure 108, 114 welfare provisions 48, 112 welfare reform processes 108–9 welfare states 108, 113–14 Williams, Colin 106 Windebank, Jan 106 workers, low-waged 113, 123n8; see also employment workplace dialogue 108 works councils 107

180