European Diary, 1977-1981

by Roy Jenkins

  TUESDAY, 12 DECEMBER. Brussels and Luxembourg.

  Excellent news during the morning that the Italian Government had firmly decided to enter the EMS; a considerable retrieval of the previous position.

  Avion taxi to Luxembourg, which produced the worst flight which I have had on any occasion in the past two years. We bounced around in the new turbo-prop Conquest, fortunately for only thirty-eight minutes, but it was extremely disagreeable. I was not feeling sick, as Hayden and Laura were, but was mildly frightened, as they were also, and definitely felt rather unsteady when I got out. The pilots obviously thought that it had been fairly rough and apologized profusely, though in fact they had managed a feather landing despite being unable to get the plane straight on a line with the runway as the wind was blowing so hard that they had to go in crab-wise.

  A meeting with Emile Noël who told me that Tugendhat’s speech on the budget controversy had gone rather badly, but I didn’t take that too seriously. Then I presented 112 medals to those who had served twenty years or more. I then staggered off to talk to the Political Committee (of the Parliament) about the results of the European Council and to answer a number of questions, some good, some rather foolish.

  I then went briefly to a drink at the British Embassy as I had not been there since the new Ambassador, Patrick Wright, ex-Number 10 Foreign Office Private Secretary,65 had taken over. I liked both the Wrights very much. I had a brief word with Thorn but not to any particular point, and rather more sensible words with various other people about the state of opinion in the Parliament on the budget issue.

  WEDNESDAY, 13 DECEMBER. Luxembourg and Washington.

  Another day of pouring rain and howling gale. An easy Commission meeting, a short speech to the Parliament, a late quick lunch, an attempted afternoon sleep in the hotel, from which I awoke feeling gloomy and mildly intimidated by the prospect of the evening’s solitary journey,66 and then an avion taxi to Charles de Gaulle at 6.00. Changed to the Concorde and took off at 8.10 for Washington. I worked furiously the whole way, being very behindhand with the American briefs, and was no more impressed with the comfort or food of the nearly full Concorde than I had been coming east eight months before. Worst of all, it was slow, nearly four hours for the trajet. As a result we never quite caught up with the day; we could see it vaguely hovering over the tropics in mid-Atlantic and we could see it disappearing in the west as we came over land between Boston and New York, but it was quite dark when we got on the ground at Washington.

  We were met by various protocol people, plus Fernand Spaak, Deane Hinton, Crispin, etc., and drove to the Hay Adams Hotel, where we arrived at 7.15 American time. We talked for an hour or so, and then, with a great act of will, I declined to go out for dinner, let Crispin and Fernand go alone, and went to bed instead. As a result I slept remarkably well until 6 a.m.

  THURSDAY, 14 DECEMBER. Washington.

  The Hay Adams is a comfortable hotel, subject on this occasion to two remarkable deficiencies, (i) the kitchen had been burned down so that they could produce no breakfast, and (ii) there was one pane missing from the window in my room, which for me was a slight relief as I like fresh air, but would have driven most Americans into a state of insanity as it was fairly cold outside. It was a most beautiful morning. The dawn was golden and the sun came up out of a cloudless sky. I worked until 7.45 and then Crispin and I walked up the road and had a very good breakfast at the Carlton Hotel. Then at 9.15 we went to see Bob Strauss and the inevitable Ambassador Henry Owen in Strauss’s Special Trade Commissioner’s office.

  First, Strauss and Owen got me alone and asked me to endorse their handling of a request by Jean-François Deniau, the French Minister of Trade, to come to Washington and, as it were, do a bilateral MTN deal on the side, seeing Strauss and the President as well. They had refused this but said that Henry Owen would go to Paris and see Deniau on the following Monday morning.

  Were they not right in refusing to let Deniau see the President? (A remarkably undiplomatic question, I must say.) I replied that it was no part of my duty to decide which ministers of member states the President of the United States saw, but that I had no complaint to make about what they had done. I obviously thought the negotiations should be with Haferkamp and his team, though equally I thought it would be foolish to refuse information which might be helpful to the French, and that I therefore welcomed the discussions which they had offered in Paris. The whole issue, on which the Americans are quite capable of reporting my remarks back to the French, was a frightening minefield for causing trouble between us and Paris.

  Perhaps with this in mind I used the semi-formal meeting which followed to make the point strongly that the French were not in as isolated a position as the Americans thought; it was quite wrong to think in terms of eight to one, it was much more the shading of a spectrum and that if we didn’t get a better package than was now available, it would not just be the French, it would be several other countries, perhaps the majority, who would be against it. But if we got a good package I thought we could carry everybody along, and this was more important than the date, though the time was ripe for us to try to conclude the negotiations by the end of the year.

  On this relatively happy (and, as it turned out, rather too optimistic) note we separated. I had hoped to have forty-five minutes to myself for a little further reflection before seeing the President, but Henry Owen, who can be egregious as well as ubiquitous and inevitable, said that he wanted to come with us, so we took him to the Hay Adams, whose incinerated kitchen was incapable of producing even coffee, before driving across to the White House just before 11.00. We had the usual hold-up at the gate, when the guards looked amazed at any suggestion we were expected, and became very suspicious of Henry Owen when he said he worked there, but eventually let us through, after which with unexpected speed I was in the Oval Office with the President.

  He greeted me as warmly as ever, seeming I thought more at ease than on previous occasions. We had about ten minutes together, he, Crispin, Owen and me, before we proceeded to the larger meeting. He was mainly concerned to talk about the Deniau point, and a bit about Guadaloupe,67 and to ask me how Callaghan stood after his defeat in the House of Commons the night before—a few issues of that sort—and to express general friendship and desire to keep very close relations. Then we proceeded to the Cabinet Room and had our across-the-table meeting with a total of about twenty people. He made a speech of welcome, I responded, and then we went into a discussion of issues, MTNs, the European Monetary System (for which he expressed at this stage—differently from Bonn—warm and unqualified approval), followed by our sub-agenda of scientific items.

  Towards the end, rather unexpectedly, he enquired about our relations with China, camouflaging it a little by also asking about our relations with Comecon and Yugoslavia. But it was the China answers he was interested in, enquiring exactly what was the ‘framework agreement’, when I was going there, etc., which should have alerted me to the events of the following evening68 more than in fact it did.

  Then to the State Department, where we had an early lunch, presided over by Warren Christopher, acting Secretary of State (Vance being in the Middle East). Christopher, whom I had met only once before, is an extremely sensible and nice Californian, who organized the lunch very well. It was a working occasion, with discussion pretty well the whole time, but he did not make me talk too much, so that I was able to eat something, and he orchestrated it well so far as participants and subjects were concerned, between people on their side like Press, the President’s Scientific Adviser, Cooper of the State Department, and Bergsten of the Treasury.

  Disturbing news from Luxembourg that Vredeling (acting President in my absence—it rotates between the vice-presidents) had called an emergency Commission for 11 p.m. to pronounce on the budget crisis which had developed between the Parliament and the Council. I doubt if a night meeting under his emotional chairmanship is likely to promote cool reflection.

  Our next appointment
was with Schultze, Chairman of the Council of Economic Advisers, and we found him depressed though fluent in his always overheated office. He thought that growth in the US economy might well be down to zero and even possibly technically a recession (two quarters of negative growth during the year).

  Then Blumenthal, who had Tony Solomon69 with him, and was slightly more optimistic. He was firmly pro-EMS, quite different from his Bonn position. The US Government had at least coordinated itself on this, although there was a slight suspicion in my mind that their firm benevolence was a matter of tactical teeth-gritting rather than spontaneous enthusiasm. This I think was certainly so with Solomon, who fastened on one vulnerable point, about the level at which gold deposits were to be valued, and the general effect of this. Blumenthal, whom I always like, was very willing to admit past errors about the dollar but also anxious to express total confidence for the future, saying the whole position since 1 November was qualitatively different.

  On from there, flagging slightly by this time, to the Federal Reserve Board, to meet Miller,70 the Chairman, for the first time. Crispin, who is normally at least as critical as I am, was rather impressed by him. I was not. I thought he produced a fine series of clichés in a not very well-structured conversation, but no doubt this was at least as much my fault as his. The following meeting, at 5 o’clock, was with Larosière71 and the five or six top officials of the IMF, which he, Larosière, had asked for and at which they wished to sniff around with reasonably benevolent suspicion at the possible impacts of the EMS on them.

  Fernand Spaak’s dinner for me, which was a large and fairly well-chosen affair of thirty-six: the Chief Justice, who looks more and more like Asquith, and who, in spite of his not very liberal reputation, I much like, partly because he talks well about historico/legal matters on both sides of the Atlantic; also a couple of fairly important Congressional figures, as well as a good Georgetown sprinkling—Kay Graham,72 Evangeline Bruce, Alsops, Bradens,73 Brandons,74 etc. It was a good dinner, my only irritation with Spaak—and it is rare for him to cause one—being his placement, in which he decided, saying it was necessary on protocol grounds, despite my expressed scepticism, to give me both the Congressional ladies. I think it was a mistake on any grounds; it would have been much more sensible to give me Kay Graham on one side, who certainly considers herself, as do I, a more important lady. However, the two Congressional ladies were not in fact too bad, although one of them was a religious maniac and the other appeared to be slightly drunk.

  FRIDAY, 15 DECEMBER. Washington and New York.

  German Embassy at 9 o’clock, where I was due to brief the ambassadors of the Nine. Despite the diplomatic pre-eminence of Washington, they were not on this occasion a very impressive group, though it was perhaps unfair to judge them as both the Frenchman, Laboulaye, and the German, Von Staden, were away. Peter Jay, who now looks very much the part, certainly has the best appearance. He asked no questions round the table, but was forthcoming afterwards. Of those who spoke, the Dane was the best, and the French substitute, the commercial attaché, the worst. Then to Capitol Hill, where I had a meeting on MTNs with Ullman’s committee. Fortunately we didn’t get into too much technical or controversial detail, but discussed mainly the timetable with general expressions of goodwill.

  Then there was an interval before my luncheon at the National Press Club. Fernand Spaak’s other untypical mistake of the week had been to announce at our conversation on the Wednesday evening that the essential rule for a National Press Club speech was to open with an extremely funny story. At that stage I took it calmly, but as the time approached I found it totally impossible to think of any remotely appropriate joke.

  In this interval I therefore paced up and down desperately to try and think of something funny to open with. Absolutely nothing came. I arrived in despair. However, the whole occasion gave me the impression from the beginning as being friendly and likely to be helpful. It seemed a much better atmosphere than when I had last been there twelve years before as a young Home Secretary. It was much fuller for one thing, and when I actually got up to speak several entirely impromptu mild jokes of the occasion came to me, so that the first five minutes were a great success and thereafter the speech followed through rather easily. Then a good question period, fast, easy questions, and so off with high morale for the 3 o’clock shuttle to New York. We drove on a beautiful New York afternoon to Marietta Tree’s apartment in Sutton Place.

  From 5.15 I went to the Links Club and talked to a dozen bankers assembled by George Ball. They were all personally agreeable and basically friendly to the EMS. They were certainly a high-powered lot, including the main people from Chase, City Bank, Hanover, Chemical, etc., plus the head of IBM. At 8.00 Marietta had a large dinner party (thirty-four) with a fairly predictable grand New York mixture: Kissingers, Schlesingers, Betty Bacall, Kitty Carlisle,75 Bill Paley,76 Brooke Astor,77 Mrs Agnelli.78 I much enjoyed it.

  SATURDAY, 16 DECEMBER. New York.

  A day off in New York. Took the Brian Urquharts to lunch at the Caravelle, went to the Metropolitan and the Frick in the afternoon, and dined on the West Side with the Irwin Ross’s.

  SUNDAY, 17 DECEMBER. New York, Ann Arbor and Brussels.

  8.30 plane to Detroit. Drove to Ann Arbor for lunch with the President of the University of Michigan and about forty other people at about 12 o’clock. It was a ghastly luncheon, not a drop to drink at the long reception beforehand—I hadn’t expected anything at lunch—totally inedible food, and speeches, which again I hadn’t expected, after lunch. Then over to the theatre for the commencement and honorary degree ceremony and my address to an audience of about four thousand. To be honest, I don’t think the address went very well: it was a good speech, but too long, thirty-four minutes, and slightly too elaborately prepared, as well as trying to say too much. In any event I always find commencement addresses difficult, and the total absence of alcohol didn’t help either. However, it passed off, the ceremony was over and we got away just after 4 o’clock and drove back to Detroit Airport on a sparkling, cold, clear winter afternoon.

  La Guardia at 7.30, and the 8.45 Sabena plane from Kennedy to Brussels. Dinner and two hours’ sleep before I awoke over Ireland.

  MONDAY, 18 DECEMBER. Brussels.

  Another special Commission meeting at noon to try and extricate ourselves from any damage which might have been done by Vredeling’s late-night one on Thursday. However, good work had been done over the weekend and it was fairly clear what view we should take on the budget. There had been irregularities in the Parliament’s handling of the matter, but illegality should not be compounded with further illegality, and we should accept as a fact that the budget existed, and was certified as valid by Colombo as President of the Parliament, which was within his constitutional rights. This was our firm view, without any clear dissenters.

  I gave lunch to Klaus von Dohnanyi, Sigrist and a third German. Klaus was more or less on time for once and we had an agreeable lunch with rather good talk. I lectured them a little on being pushed around by the French, which I hope they took reasonably well.

  TUESDAY, 19 DECEMBER. Brussels.

  Foreign Affairs Council with lunch from 10.30 a.m. to 8.15 p.m., which was more than long enough. It was never tremendously productive and pretty boring for much of the time. What was not boring, but not agreeable either, was a 5 o’clock meeting, which I had at my request, with François-Poncet. I found him in a highly excitable state about the budget and everything else. He was at least trying to be agreeable most of the time and arguing with himself in some ways more than with me, saying, ‘No, I am a man of conciliation, I want to seek a solution, a political solution if possible. But if this goes wrong, the possibilities of damage are enormous, the Commission will be in the same position as the Hallstein Commission. We could call off direct elections, it could affect the whole future of the Community.’

  The French do get into an enormously overexcited state and find it difficult to believe that there can be dif
ferent interpretations of things and that people who don’t agree with them are not necessarily knaves or fools. They treat people as craven, threaten them too much, and believe that they will succumb to a ‘thunderbolts of Zeus’ treatment. I think that it stems from the fact that the French Government is too hierarchical and authoritarian, and that they are all terrified if they can’t bring home to Giscard exactly what he wants. This corrupts people like François-Poncet, who is in general a decent, sensible, intelligent man. The whole interview left a disagreeable taste in my mouth.

  WEDNESDAY, 20 DECEMBER. Brussels.

  A morning Commission to 1.35, by which time we had succeeded with a little difficulty in completing all the business. Then a Commission Christmas lunch. Last year they complained that they hadn’t been given enough traditional English food, so this year we organized Christmas puddings with brandy butter, mince pies and, of course, turkey. It was all quite successful, I thought, except the turkey, which was pretty badly cooked, appallingly carved and filled with what was supposed to be chestnut stuffing, but which tasted to me rather like stale liver pâté. However, that apart, the occasion wasn’t too bad.

  In the afternoon I went to the Greek negotiations from 4.45 to 6.30, which Natali was conducting very well. Then I saw Bassols, the Spanish Ambassador, who came in to announce (i) that the Spaniards were extremely pleased that we had got them the formal opening of the negotiations on 19 February, and (ii) that on reflection they would be extremely glad to work with Signor Papa as our representative in Madrid—a very typical example of the way in which one can get sensible results from Calvo Sotelo, though he would have done better not to have got into an untenable position to begin with.

  Then home to the quadripartite dinner, with Ortoli, Gundelach and Davignon, which flowed from Ortoli’s conversation with me when he was so apprehensive after the European Council. I think the occasion was worthwhile. They all talked well. It was certainly a social success and they stayed a good deal too late, until 12.45. We argued round the problems of relations with the French in particular, including the row, mainly between the French and the Germans, which had broken out over MCAs in the Agriculture Ministers Council. I am not sure that we arrived at any firm view about how to proceed, except that we all thought that the Community faced a fairly critical six months in which the Commission had to steer a difficult and narrow course, but one could no doubt have predicted that without the dinner.