European Diary, 1977-1981

by Roy Jenkins

  TUESDAY, 12 JUNE. Brussels, Luxembourg and Brussels.

  Foreign Affairs Council in Luxembourg. It began very late—the French presidency is particularly bad at beginning late. The new British Government was represented for the first time. Carrington was not there, but Ian Gilmour, Nott, the Minister of Trade, and Douglas Hurd were. Nott, I thought, did rather well. Ian only had to make one brief intervention. I had a drink with him afterwards, during which he pressed on me the importance the UK Government attached to the UK/Australian uranium agreement. Douglas Hurd, vastly pro-European, found himself with a very restrictive brief on Lomé questions, and locked into an even more isolated position than the Labour Government had mostly occupied.

  Back to Brussels by train and dinner rue de Praetère with Laura, for the last time as she is off in thirty-six hours. Rather sad.

  WEDNESDAY, 13 JUNE. Brussels.

  A farewell party of about fifty for Laura, rue de Praetère. A moderately good speech from me and a better one from Laura. Then a dinner for Lee Kuan Yew, the Prime Minister of Singapore, and his wife (plus Laura). Harry Lee may have political faults but he is almost unique amongst world leaders in being an extremely good talker and a very good listener as well, so I enjoy seeing him very much. His wife is also highly intelligent.

  THURSDAY, 14 JUNE. Brussels, Paris and Brussels.

  7.30 train to Paris for the second time in a week, for a visit to OECD which I am each year pressed to do and which each year seems equally or more pointless to me. It is a day of diplomatic contacts without specific purpose, rather like publishers milling around at an international book fair. I began with an hour’s bilateral meeting with Warren Christopher, Cy Vance’s deputy at the State Department. I thought him, as always, a highly sensible, agreeable man, though we didn’t in fact have much of great importance to talk about. Then I went into the session for a short time and listened to some rather boring speeches and afterwards had a forty-minute meeting with Blumenthal, the American Secretary to the Treasury, and found him, curiously in view of the current low popularity and authority of the Carter administration, more confident and more relaxed than on previous occasions. Perhaps the general decline of the administration improves his relative position.

  Then back again for a very short time into the session. Before lunch I had moderately useful talks with Geoffrey Howe, with Pandolfi the Italian Minister of Finance, and with two or three others. After lunch I walked up and down the terrace with the Turkish Foreign Minister, feeling and looking like a bad caricature of a diplomatic stage set. What he (the Foreign Minister) wanted was that I should be firmly in favour of a visit to Turkey of Haferkamp, accompanied by the Foreign Minister of the country holding the presidency. It was a modest ambition. I said I would endeavour to set that up. This he seemed extremely pleased with.

  Then I had a meeting with the Portuguese Foreign Minister, de Freitas-Cruz.1 He gave me a pessimistic but intelligent analysis of the Portuguese position, and I in return told him to make sure he had a talk with Larosière, the Managing Director of the IMF, who was there, as there appeared to be some misunderstanding on his part as to whether or not the Portuguese were prepared to settle.

  Back to Brussels by the 5.44 TEE, and rue de Praetère just before 8.30 where I had David Steel to dinner. A rather gossipy talk with him, more about the election than the current and future political situation. He was pleased with his election campaign, although disappointed with the votes obtained, and went rather out of his way to tell me that, as a result of it, he had become a major public figure, possibly the best known after Callaghan, Heath and Mrs Thatcher. In other words, he was, I think, underlining in the nicest possible way that in any future political arrangement he wasn’t to be treated as an office boy. Very strongly anti-Thorpe. Anti-Mrs Thatcher, still rather pro-Callaghan.

  FRIDAY, 15 JUNE. Brussels.

  A special all-day Commission meeting at La Prieuré2 to discuss our relations with the directly elected Parliament. Some sensible decisions were arrived at, not the least of which was Burke’s sudden announcement that he was going to hand in the Parliament portfolio. He might have told me beforehand, but that was as nothing compared with the relief that he had vacated this now important job which we had reluctantly given him in 1977, and which was not at all his métier. A few other sensible decisions were made, such as that Commissioners should have their individual names on replies to written questions. What had hitherto been the practice was that they were just answered in the name of the Commission and that what was everybody’s responsibility became nobody’s responsibility, except that of the rather insensitive services.

  The evening was taken up with the visit of President Senghor of Senegal: a substantial meeting and then a Val Duchesse dinner for him and his wife, with no speeches at his special request. I found him agreeable, sensible, very moderate on Rhodesian questions, but perhaps not quite so interesting as in Senegal four months before.

  SATURDAY, 16 JUNE. Brussels and the Somme.

  An expedition to the battlefields of the Somme with Jakie Astors. We met them for lunch at Roye just off the Paris motorway. In the afternoon we drove around the huge Lutyens memorial and then a Canadian memorial, with a lot of remains of trenches, but half grown over so that they looked (the shell holes in particular) almost like bunkers in a well-kept golf course. Then we went through Albert and had a remarkable view across country to Amiens Cathedral about twenty miles away—at least as good a view as that of Chartres across the Beauce. Stayed in an hotel near Compiègne.

  MONDAY, 18 JUNE. Brussels.

  I began to deal with the question of Burke’s replacement as Commissioner responsible for relations with the Parliament. In view of the composition of the new Parliament it clearly had to be, in the currently developing jargon, a centre-right Commissioner, i.e. it would not be sensible to appoint a Socialist, and this meant that there were only three possibilities: Natali, who was probably the most obvious one, apart from linguistic difficulties; Davignon, who was very heavily charged already, but manifestly capable of doing this or any other job; and Tugendhat, who had the disadvantage of being the same nationality as me, but the advantage of being already linked with the Parliament owing to his budget responsibilities.

  I had a sneaking fear that Natali would be too nervous of the Parliament, as he had somewhat illustrated by his behaviour in the budget crisis in the spring; and that with his pessimistic and worried, though extremely agreeable, general demeanour he might keep us all in a constant state of apprehensive gloom. I decided therefore to have Davignon in and sound him out. He immediately announced that he was against Natali for much the same reasons that had caused me to hesitate, that his candidate was Tugendhat, but, when asked by me, agreed that he might do it himself.

  TUESDAY, 19 JUNE. Brussels.

  Interviews for Die Welt and the Kyoto (Japanese) News Service. Vredeling to a fence-mending lunch at home alone, as I had been told that he was feeling rather miserable and neglected. He wasn’t disagreeable and talked quite interestingly on one or two points. Then I saw Ortoli to talk to him about the Commissioner for the Parliament. He was in favour of Natali, but when I told him Davignon might do it, thought that Davignon would be even better, but said he would be perfectly happy with either of them. He was against Tugendhat.

  I next saw the oddly named Eddie Mirzoeff from the BBC, who turned out to be extremely nice, to discuss, a long time in advance, arrangements for my November Dimbleby Lecture. Dined at Léon Lambert’s, a big dinner of farewell for General Haig. I had quite a long post-dinner talk with Haig. He is clearly still harbouring high political ambitions. He is rather in favour of a German as Secretary-General of NATO when Luns goes, though he thinks this will not be soon. He was not against an Englishman, but certainly not in favour of any Englishman. I don’t think Ian Gilmour’s kind idea of Mulley3 would run with him.

  WEDNESDAY, 20 JUNE. Brussels.

  I saw Natali before the Commission. I had a perfectly agreeable conversation wi
th him. He clearly wants the Parliament job. I told him that I wasn’t sure he wasn’t too busy what with enlargement and his need to travel to Italy a great deal, and that Davignon was a possibility and I was hovering between the two and hadn’t made up my mind. He took this quite well, though obviously a bit disappointed.

  The morning Commission meeting was extremely difficult at the end because of the question of the United Kingdom/Australia uranium agreement. Last July the British Labour Government had submitted to us the terms of such an agreement which were unacceptable in a number of ways. Brunner had written to them pointing out these objections, which they had dealt with by modification. They had therefore come back to us expecting (Maitland particularly) a clear run through. However, in view of a Court judgement having intervened, we did not think we could endorse even their modified agreement without risking the Commission position falling apart, unless they were willing to put a time limitation on it. Crispin was extremely keen on forcing this, and very courageously keen, as the British—and in particular UKREP4 -were very hot on the issue and blaming him for the hold-up.

  In the Commission itself Davignon argued strongly in favour of the time-break clause; Tugendhat argued in favour of the British position and was supported by Brunner, who gives way to everybody but who is the responsible Commissioner; and Ortoli, no doubt on French grounds, was in that direction too. Therefore it was extremely difficult to hold the position, but I just succeeded in doing so, saying that I would have a hard go at negotiating the break clause with the British Government, which I thought there was a chance of doing provided there was no leak of the split position in the Commission. (Needless to say this was a slightly overoptimistic hope, though in fact no leak appeared in the press, but it certainly got back to UKREP.)

  Home late for lunch with Nicko Henderson on a pre-Washington briefing visit to Brussels, with, rather ironically, two of my pro-British Government adversaries of the morning, Brunner and Tugendhat. Nicko was informed and a little probing, but frustrated by me.

  Back to the office to receive a portentous telephone call from President Murphy of the Cour des Comptes, telling me that the dreaded report was ready and that he was willing to come to Brussels, either on the Thursday, Friday or the following Monday, secretly but ceremoniously to hand a copy over, and indicating that it was going to be pretty tiresome. ‘The press will have a field day,’ he said lugubriously. I arranged for him to come on Monday.

  I then saw Nicoll of the UK Representation, Maitland already having gone to Strasbourg for the European Council, and made a little statement to him following the Commission meeting, which he received disappointedly.

  THURSDAY, 21 JUNE. Brussels and Strasbourg.

  Avion taxi to Strasbourg accompanied by Ortoli, etc. Then to the Terminus-Grüber Hotel opposite the station, where the French Government had put us up. It was said to be a resort of ill repute but in fact turned out to be an improvement on the Sofitel.5

  Giscard gave us lunch at the Préfecture. I was placed, surprisingly, between Peter Carrington and Mrs Thatcher, Giscard no doubt thinking it was good to have all the English cuckoos in the same nest, but it was amazing that at her first European Council he didn’t have her next to him. Peter Carrington started by saying, ‘I am very angry with you.’ I said, ‘Oh, yes, I suppose it is about UK/Australia, but you certainly should not be angry as there is no reason at all why you shouldn’t agree to what we want.’ He then made no pretence of being seriously angry and listened to what I had to say without I think knowing much about it.

  Mrs Thatcher didn’t mention it. She, however, was quite chatty at lunch and concerned as to how she should open up the budget. contribution question and eager to have it first in the afternoon, which apparently she had just more or less arranged with Giscard. I told her that this was a mistake. She must have it the first day, certainly, but to start on it cold was not in my view right. However, she had arranged it on the agenda, so I supposed it had to be done.

  After lunch Giscard suddenly announced that the Foreign Ministers would go off somewhere or other, but the heads of government and me (at least I presumed I was included) were to do a walk round the old part of Strasbourg. This we proceeded to do in extremely chaotic fashion for an excessive time. It lasted twenty-five minutes in a temperature of well over 80°F and a great deal of pushing and shoving. Giscard, Mrs Thatcher and Schmidt were in the front row, the rest of us in the second or third rows; it was not agreeable but mildly amusing. I was told subsequently that Giscard decided on it at short notice because he thought Mrs Thatcher might do a walkabout on her own—perhaps he was confusing her with the Queen.

  Then four hours of session in a good room at the Mairie—not quite as good as the Bremen Rathaus room but, that apart, the best we have had. Giscard did not give Mrs Thatcher a chance to open, as she thought he had said he would. I think she was lucky, but she subsequently thought he had cheated her.

  The first item of substance was a report from the Governor of the Bank of France, Clappier, on the working of the EMS, a neutral, reasonably optimistic report. A brief discussion on that in which Mrs Thatcher announced that they would be making deposits (which she expected to have a better effect than it did) and I suggested that we ought to have a serious discussion at Dublin with a view to moving on to the European Monetary Fund, but Giscard indicated that he thought this too early.

  Eventually we got on to the convergence/budgetary issue, which he asked me to open. I did so, moving fairly rapidly on to the budgetary aspect of convergence and putting the matter in a reasonably but I hope not excessively pro-British way. Mrs Thatcher, who I thought had been quite good in her previous interventions, immediately became shrill, and even more so in her quickly following second intervention. The prospect began to look distinctly uncertain, as Giscard was wavering, and van Agt, Jørgensen, and indeed Lynch were back-pedalling and asking only for a study to be made, i.e. no proposals requested from the Commission.

  Mrs Thatcher meanwhile had got into an argument with Schmidt, which was silly as he was absolutely crucial to her getting the result that she wanted. She also had circulated bits of paper which looked as though they had come from the Commission; indeed she said they were Commission figures, but I had firmly to deny responsibility for having put them around, as although I thought they were broadly correct I was not going to be cross-examined on them, which Schmidt showed a certain tendency to do. When Mrs Thatcher tried to intervene for a third time, I had to stop her by intervening myself instead (which she accepted fairly graciously) and proposing the solution which was eventually accepted, that we should go to the Ecofin Council with a neutral statement of the facts, and then, not waiting for their authority, prepare a programme of remedies to present to the next European Council. She accepted this gratefully and graciously as indeed she should have done. It was not a bad afternoon and, on balance, not a bad performance on her part, except for this one fairly major tactical mistake on what was, after all, much the most important subject for her.

  Dinner on an immensely hot evening at the Château de Rohan. Before dinner there was a typical little Giscard ploy. In the afternoon he had announced that he was giving écus to everybody, adding, with the unintentional bad manners which are curiously natural to him, that there were gold ones for the heads of government and silver ones for the Foreign Ministers, but believing that he had balanced it by saying this was merely an indication of French attachment to bimetallism. Therefore, there was a certain amount of doubt as to which I would get. However, he advanced upon Schmidt and me before dinner, with two golden écus in boxes in his hand, presented one to Schmidt and then presented the other to me, saying, ‘Ah, but Monsieur Jenkins, there is just one difficulty: yours is not inscribed. If therefore you will let me have it back, I will have it appropriately inscribed and sent to you as soon as possible.’ I suppose he could not decide until the last minute whether I was to get a gold or a silver one!

  The dinner was rather grandly done. A beautiful room wit
h everything manifestly brought down from the Elysée—plates, wine, not food I presume, but chefs certainly—and typical Giscard elaboration. There was fairly desultory foreign affairs conversation at dinner. Mrs Thatcher, still more surprisingly again not placed next to Giscard, did rather well on Rhodesia. Talk after dinner about China, Euro/Arab dialogue and one or two other subjects, but nothing very conclusive.

  FRIDAY, 22 JUNE. Strasbourg and Brussels.

  Three-hour European Council session in the morning on a variety of subjects—the communiqué obviously, relations with Japan, our paper for the 1990s, on which I opened with a statement about demographic changes and the speed of advance of high technology in Japan and the United States and the danger of our being left behind and uncomfortably squeezed in the middle.

  There remained the question of the press conference, following Giscard’s embarrassed dictat at our meeting in Paris two weeks before. However, when I asked what time he was going to start it, he asked if I intended to make a statement, and I said, ‘Yes, indeed, but it is not finally prepared. However, I will be quite happy to show it to you before we go in.’ He then said, ‘What I think we will do is this (it is a slight modification): I will make my statement and answer any questions to me. Then I will stay for your statement and if there are any questions for you afterwards I will leave at that stage.’ A ludicrous finessing, but I suppose a mild improvement.

  In fact, everything passed off perfectly smoothly. So a ridiculous but potentially nasty corner was turned not too unsatisfactorily. He and I parted on surprisingly good terms for once, saying that we looked forward to seeing each other in Tokyo.