by Roy Jenkins
Commission farewell lunch for Lebsanft (German Ambassador), at which I had to make a short speech, and then a resumed Commission at 3.30, which, alas, went on until 9.50. The main subject of contention was one aspect of Vredeling’s Social Fund proposals, in which the ‘regionalists’, Giolitti and Natali, were against the ‘sectoralists’, who were primarily Ortoli and Davignon. At one stage we had an adjournment for redrafting. Then Giolitti and Natali said they would vote against. I thought this unfortunate. A minority of two is one thing. But a minority of both the Italians on regional policy is another. So we went on and on, trying to find a compromise and eventually put it to a Chefs de Cabinet meeting for an hour, who did then produce an acceptable draft, a rather good piece of work by the Chefs, with Michael Emerson in the chair. But it was all very time-consuming and I doubt if I ought ever again to allow a Commission meeting to go on as long as this.67
In addition to the Social Fund problem we had the very difficult issue of certain personnel appointments, including that of Christopher Audland68 as deputy Secretary-General, David Marquand69 as head of the special new Parliamentary and Social Partners Group, and my proposal to set up a Central Planning Unit with a German at its head. A good deal of opposition on all grounds. Davignon was against Audland, supported by Haferkamp and Giolitti. I then thought I ought to give Ortoli a chance to support Audland, which he had said he would do, but in fact didn’t and merely went off into a typical ‘defend-the-old’ attack on the Central Planning Group. A bit of general muttering against that, and I had to say that I would provide them with a more clear outline of its role. But I hope that will go through eventually. David Marquand’s job—though not for the moment his appointment—I got through by a small sleight of hand. Tugendhat was not very effective at this meeting, which was important for him as Personnel Commissioner and which is unusual with him. But I suspect everybody was tired and rather bad-tempered. I went home at 10.30, too exhausted to eat.
FRIDAY, 18 MARCH. Brussels, Bonn and East Hendred.
Crispin and I set off by car for Bonn just after 12 o’clock. Rather cold, standing-up picnic lunch by the side of the autoroute just short of the German frontier. Into Bonn shortly before 3.00 for my meeting with Schmidt.70
It was a bad day for him, as is now often the case, for the telephone bugging row which had been simmering away in Germany for some time had suddenly blown up to a new dimension. As a result he was half an hour late, although full of apologies. I then had a one-and-a-quarter-hour meeting with him, talked a little about the Commission, and secondly about representation at the Western Economic Summit, which was the main purpose of my visit. Here he opened hard, aggressive/defensive: he wasn’t going to quarrel with his ‘friend Valéry’; he was the only real friend he had; he was the only person who supported him, while others were yapping away at him to reflate the whole time, etc.
I argued the case in a variety of ways. The point he was keenest on was when I told him I wasn’t going to preach reflation at him, which indeed I did not think was very sensible. The point that at first he seemed less keen on was any argument about the Americans being eager that we should be there, which provoked a good number of anti-Carter complaints, and I wondered whether my having slipped in that Carter was inviting me to an early visit to Washington was wise, as Schmidt obviously was not tremendously pleased to hear this. However, later aspects of the conversation made me slightly change my mind about this. He dismissed the Dutch—‘The trouble is that the Dutch ought to be 60 million and the Germans 12 million; it would no doubt be better for the world, but God had decided otherwise.’
Towards the end I made it clear I was not asking him to have a major row with Giscard, but that I did not think the French position was as hard as it was thought to be, and that if he used some gentle influence it could be quite effective. ‘Why doesn’t Callaghan do it?’ he said. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but in any event you have more influence with Giscard.’ ‘That’s true,’ he said contentedly. Then he said, ‘Well, I think probably that it will work itself out at Rome so that you will be there.’
We next discussed direct elections, my encouraging him to put some beneficial pressure on Callaghan. I then expounded to him my ideas for a very substantial increase in the Communities’ borrowing role, in order to lend money not just for balance-of-payments reasons, but for infrastructure and ‘sectoral’ improvements in the weaker economies, although accompanying these by firm measures of macroeconomic ‘conditionality’, as it is called; in other words a requirement upon the receiving Government to accept effective disciplines. He was rather favourable, warmed to the idea a good deal, even suggested that there might be some German money available for borrowing from their large reserve funds. A successful conversation on this, although necessarily vague at this stage.
It was then 4.15,1 had been with him three-quarters of an hour, and I thought he was showing signs of wishing to bring the interview to an end, which indeed would have been totally reasonable, as he wanted to go to Hamburg for the weekend. However, he then began one of his cosmic gloom conversations. How long did I think he should stay in the job? ‘As long as you think you can do it better than anyone else,’ was my opening bid (which would have given him substantial tenure). We then talked about who could succeed him if he went. ‘Apel is the only person within the Government,’ he said. ‘It may be a break-up of the Coalition.’ ‘Would Willy Brandt be brought back?’ I asked. ‘Ah, a lot of people would like that,’ he said, ‘but I don’t know that Willy would really want to come back in the present extremely difficult circumstances. What he probably most wants is to feel that people would like him to come back, without his having actually to return and do the job.’ We then gossiped a little about our respective experiences in German and English politics.
He then got on to his relations with America and it became clear that he was deeply offended at not having been invited by Carter, and although superficially very irritated with the American administration—particularly over the Brazilian nuclear deal—was also profoundly concerned at a deterioration of German/American relations to ‘a worse point than they had been in for at least ten years’. He brooded on this for some time saying, ‘I am very pro-American. I am much more pro-American than I am pro-British, and I have never really been pro-French. But Valéry is my only real friend.’ Then a certain amount of: ‘Well, I have done what I can. I sent my Foreign Minister to see Carter. Genscher was rather impressed by him. I sent Brandt, the leader of my party, to see Carter; he was impressed by him too. But I can’t go myself unless I am asked, and in present circumstances, even if asked, I do not think I could easily respond very quickly.’
Then, very surprisingly, he said, ‘I suppose you see a lot of Americans and have a lot of American contacts, do you? This is the reason why I have been exposing to you my mind about this.’ So I said that I would certainly do anything I could to ease this extremely delicate and dangerous problem and I was glad he had raised it. He showed no sign of wishing to bring the conversation to an end until a protocol man came in to say that as (to Schmidt’s surprise) I had no special plane (a good mark for the Commission’s sense of economy, which I hope was noted), I would have to leave if I was to catch my commercial flight. So I left with a warm farewell, was just in time for a good punctual flight, and got to East Hendred at 7.15 feeling much better than for several days. It is part of Schmidt’s quality that his gloom has an inspiriting effect.
SUNDAY, 20 MARCH. East Hendred.
Beaumarchais’,71 Rodgers’ and Leslie Bonham Carter72 to lunch. Bill on surprisingly good form. Rather wanted a pact with the Liberals, but ready if necessary to face an election, and thought the Labour Party might even win it. Surprisingly pro-Callaghan, rather more settled in the Cabinet than a few weeks ago. No sign of jealousy of David Owen.
MONDAY, 21 MARCH. East Hendred and The Hague.
10.15 plane to Amsterdam and to the Hôtel des Indes at The Hague, a wonderful re-creation with infinite pains of
the nineteenth-century atmosphere of Jakarta, built about 1840. Then to the Catshuis, for half an hour’s talk with Joop den Uyl,73 the Dutch Prime Minister, before the lunch he was giving for me. He was extremely interested, despite the fact that he was in the midst of a major Cabinet crisis, in what Schmidt had said to me on Friday (about the Summit, not about the Dutch, which I did not repeat), very firm and keen about Community representation there. A very informal atmosphere, as seems usual in The Hague. Den Uyl himself opens the front door and then towards the end of the conversation ministers who have been asked to lunch drift in. There were about eight at lunch: Max van der Stoel, the Foreign Minister, van der Stee,74 the Agricultural Minister, plus Ruud Lubbers,75 the Economics Minister, and Duisenberg, the Finance Minister, with both of whom I am increasingly impressed. Extremely agreeable and interesting lunch, with a good half-hour’s discussion about the Summit.
Then we adjourned to the Cabinet Room next door and settled down for two and a half hours’ discussion on a whole range of issues, agriculture, enlargement, North/South dialogue, economic and monetary policy, Social Fund, regional policy, agenda for the Summit, etc. Fairly exhausting, but well worthwhile. They fielded a team of about five ministers, who changed from time to time, whereas I had to deal with the whole thing myself.
Then to the Parliament building for a public session on direct elections of the Second House’s (the principal chamber in Holland) Foreign Affairs Committee. I spoke for about ten minutes and then answered questions for another quarter of an hour. Before that a television interview, after that a press conference for twenty-five minutes and a radio interview. Then a pause. Then an official dinner in a restaurant almost alongside the hotel. I got the news during the day that Carter was definitely inviting me to Washington and was offering the dates we had suggested. Good news this; important to decide how to handle the announcement of it in relation to the Rome European Council. A good day in The Hague too. It is a pleasure to talk to the Dutch Government because of their commitment to the Community and the common premises from which we start a discussion.
TUESDAY, 22 MARCH. The Hague and Brussels.
Drove to Soestdijk to see Queen Juliana. Arrived there in time for an 11.15 audience. An agreeable palace in a belt of woodland, built I think about 1690 or 1700, but with I would guess a good number of subsequent additions. Rather pretty, light style of architecture. The amenities somewhat diminished, however, by there being a six-lane highway literally within 250 yards of the front entrance.
As with the King of the Belgians, the proceedings were immensely informal by British court standards. I was met by a sort of Wren officer who took me upstairs to the first floor, where we waited for a moment and then Queen Juliana appeared from an unexpected door, looking remarkably healthy after a holiday in Austria. She began by saying she had heard that unfortunately I had to leave for Brussels at noon. Could I not postpone this departure and stay for lunch at Soestdijk? I explained why my 4 o’clock meeting made this impossible. We then went into an upstairs sitting room, which was full of agreeable bric-à-brac and might easily have been the sitting room of any elderly publicly involved well-off lady of the previous generation, Violet Bonham Carter or Stella Reading, say, except for there being two rather official-looking telephones on the desk. She poured coffee, rather incongruously from under a tea-cosy, saying, ‘I am sure you would like elevenses.’
I then had a talk of nearly an hour with her. I found her interesting, extremely easy to talk to and with a fairly wide range of knowledge and considerable interest about European questions. Rather anti-German. Nothing of great profundity emerged in the conversation, but it was worth doing. Then at the end she said, ‘Now, I think we ought to go downstairs, because people want to take photographs of us.’ So we went down to the front hall, where I presented Michael Jenkins and had the photographs taken and then went off, she standing waving from the top of the perron as I left in my car. The slight problem then was what you do in these circumstances. Do you try to bow inside the car or do you wave back? I forget how I answered the problem.
WEDNESDAY, 23 MARCH. Brussels, Luxembourg and Brussels.
Early start by avion taxi for Luxembourg. This was an unexpected visit to deal with the vote of censure on butter sales to Eastern Europe, which we had been confidently informed would not be taken. But this had proved (as so often with Parliament intelligence) to be quite mistaken. I arrived at the Parliament building just in time for a few quick words with Gundelach before the debate began at 10.00. Cointat, French Gaullist ex-Minister of Agriculture, opened, a Dane spoke for a minute and I then replied for about twenty minutes. After that there were four or five speeches from the members of the other groups and the whole thing was over, except for the vote, by just after 11.15.
The atmosphere was quite calm and the proceedings fairly satisfactory. Cointat’s speech was not particularly effective, mine seemed to go fairly well. Broadly the line-up in favour of the censure was almost entirely French, plus a few Irish. Bordu,76 nominally on behalf of the whole Communist Group, announced they were going to support the vote of censure, but the Italian Communists quickly repudiated him. The vote did not take place until 1 o’clock, when I had gone back to Brussels, but then produced the very good result of 95 votes to 15 against the censure.
A Commission meeting from 3.30 to 7.15. Fairly routine business. High morale afterwards as a result of having got a number of things out of the way.
THURSDAY, 24 MARCH. Brussels and Rome.
Plane to Rome. Hassler Hotel by about 4.15. Stayed in the hotel from then until about 8.30, working hard on papers for the next day’s European Council. Then with Ruggiero and Crispin to dine with my predecessor Malfatti77 at his flat in the old part of Rome. He had invited five or six of the editors of the main Italian papers.
FRIDAY, 25 MARCH. Rome.
Up early on a most beautiful morning. (The weather throughout this Rome visit, in contrast to the one of a month ago, could not have been better: continuous clear sky, temperature nearly 70° during the day but down to about 40° at night.) I worked over breakfast for about an hour and a half and then had a 9.30 briefing meeting with Ortoli and the four or five Directors-General we had with us.
Left at 11.30 to drive to the Campidoglio for the ceremony of the twentieth anniversary of the Treaty of Rome. We milled about for some time with the heads of government and Foreign Ministers, and then proceeded to the main, rather grand room, for the ceremony itself, which was quick, as there were speeches only from Leone, the President of the Republic, and a strikingly good one from the Communist Mayor of Rome. Then off to the Quirinale and the grand presidential luncheon. During the milling about there was a great deal of conversation on arrangements for the Summit. Giscard said nothing to me at this stage, but Schmidt implied that things were going to be all right for a compromise, and there was a good deal of muttering from den Uyl, Max van der Stoel, the Belgians, Thorn, Garret Fitzgerald, the Danes, all very excited about the issue, and feeling no certainty about the outcome.
The luncheon was a big affair for about one hundred and fifty. The heads of government and I were conducted into an inner room and then from there we were led out to shake hands with all the assembled, mainly Italian, guests. Rather to my surprise, Berlinguer78 was there, in the middle of a row, and was routinely introduced to me. As a result of all this, we did not get into lunch until 1.45 and it looked as though everything was set for a major Italian cock-up, with the Council itself starting hours late. This could not have been more wrong. The lunch, which was very good for a banquet of this size, was served, four courses, in forty-five minutes flat, and this included brief speeches from Leone and from Callaghan (as President-in-office of the European Council). The whole thing was over by 2.30. This result was achieved by having a fleet of waiters—there must have been about a hundred—who advanced into the room like a swarm of bees as soon as each course was released.
Afterwards to the Palazzo Barberini for the Council itself. Great chao
s in all the ante-rooms; difficulty in assembling my papers, though I was more successful than Schmidt, who didn’t find his at all until the meeting had been going for some time. But he doesn’t care much about briefs. On the way in, Giscard came up to me, full of apparent charm, calling me rather unusually for him by my Christian name, and asking had I got his letter, the four-and-a-half-page document which he thought it wise, most extraordinarily, to write me on the Wednesday, to which I replied rather coldly, ‘Yes.’ He then said, ‘I do not understand why you are making such a fuss about presence at the Summit, my dear Roy. Your position in Europe is such that I would have thought this was a matter of complete unimportance to you.’ I said it was a matter of very great importance, not personally but from the point of view of the Community. In any case, whatever my views, at least five countries felt very strongly about it. He then made an even more curious remark, saying, ‘I never believe in arguing about matters which are unimportant, but when I see something as a matter of principle, then I never bend.’79 He was friendly, I was chilly throughout, and we then separated and moved in.
The European Council itself is in form a surprisingly satisfactory body, mainly because it is intimate. There were only twenty-five people in the room and we sat round a relatively small table, looking at most beautiful cartoons on the walls and ceiling. The twenty-five were made up of the nine heads of government, plus their Foreign Ministers, plus Ortoli and me from the Commission, plus four staff from the presidency—British Foreign Office staff, on this occasion, who were there for note-taking purposes—plus one huissier, who can be sent out with messages. This was a vast improvement on the huge gatherings which characterize the Council of Ministers, with up to three hundred people present in the huge room, talking from one end of the table to the other as though across an empty football pitch.
