A Tale of Two Citadels

From Vienna's stately Hofburg Palace, where the Congress of Vienna met to realign Europe 150 years ago, five Prime Ministers and two other representatives of Europe's Outer Seven last week called for a meeting with ministers of the Common Market. They wanted to discuss "strengthening cooperation" and "coordinating policies" of the two blocs. Explained the man who had convened the Seven, Britain's Harold Wilson: "We are in our citadel, they are in theirs. There is no suggestion we should come out of ours waving a white flag. All we suggest is that we both come out of our citadels and seek to negotiate new arrangements."

Deepening Division. What worried Wilson concerns political leaders and businessmen throughout Europe: the deepening division between the Outer Seven (Britain, Sweden, Norway,Denmark, Portugal, Austria, Switzerland) and the Inner Six (France, West Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg, Italy, The Netherlands). On Jan. 1, 1967, the European Free Trade Association's final internal tariff reductions go into effect, to be followed six months afterward by those of the Common Market, and the worry is that trade patterns will become so set within the blocs that attempts to join them will be increasingly fruitless.

The E.F.T.A. meeting reflected a new British initiative to ward bridging the widening rift, a new effort to turn the nation's face once again toward the Continent. It was particularly surprising because Harold Wilson's Labor Party has always looked on Europe with a suspicious eye. When Britain applied for Common Market membership in 1961, it was under the leadership of Harold Macmillan's Conservatives; Labor's Hugh Gaitskell, in a slashing speech at Brighton only three months before his death, in effect committed the socialists to stay out of Europe.

Even today, a certain xenophobia, perhaps inspired by two world wars, still lingers, as does the reluctance to take any step that might "let down the Commonwealth." Moreover, the party's aging unionists, haunted by memories of Depression unemployment, oppose lowering tariffs against Continental merchandise, which, they fear, would imperil the jobs of British workers.

Building Bridges. As an economist, Wilson knows the dangers of this narrow approach; fact is, Common Market membership would stimulate British industry, even provide more jobs through the healthy influence of competition, and would widen the market for British goods.

Fully aware that probably half his own Cabinet opposes tight ties to Europe, Wilson has carefully avoided taking a public position pro or con. And what steps he has taken have not been in terms of lofty morals and principles--the approach of his Tory predecessors. "Of course he is pro-Europe," says one Wilson intimate, "but he is a practical man who wants to do practical things to bring all Europeans together." This has taken the form of what Wilson calls "building bridges" to the Continent. In a series of trips during the past three months, he has touched bases in Europe: Bonn and Berlin, Paris, Rome, Vienna, and with each stop has placed Britain in closer relationship with European allies.

In Bonn, Wilson assured Ludwig Erhard of his support for German reunification and won Erhard's good will. For Charles de Gaulle, he abandoned an early decision to cancel the Anglo-French supersonic Concorde passenger jet, and last month negotiated additional $112 million contracts for research on two Anglo-French military aircraft. Last week his government announced plans to switch to the Continental metric system, while Queen Elizabeth, on his request, visited West Berlin in support of West Germany's position there (see following stories).

"Where Is Europe Headed?" Considered separately, all these steps may seem trivial. Over the years, however, they may prove valuable in clearing the atmosphere of rivalry and backbiting that today are obstacles to the larger goals. Whether or not his policy is destined to succeed, Harold Wilson seems in the process of moving his country into an entirely new stance with respect to Europe.

The decision to hold the Vienna meeting was made at Chequers, the Prime Minister's country estate, when in April he hosted a meeting of nine socialist leaders, including Denmark's Premier Jens Otto Krag. As Wilson recalls, the group was discussing "something African, I think, when I started asking questions. What are we going to do about Europe? Where is Europe headed?" Krag suggested that they take up those questions at the next E.F.T.A. meeting.

At Vienna last week, Wilson proposed that the Outer Seven draw up proposals and then approach the Six to discuss 1) a further reduction in tariffs between the blocs, 2) setting up a 13-nation free-trade area for a single commodity, such as autos, and 3) consideration of merger. The communique, issued at the end of the meeting, incorporated Wilson's proposals almost entirely, making it clear that E.F.T.A. had at last found the spokesman it had lacked so long.

Formidable Obstacle. Any E.F.T.A. proposals to the Common Market face that formidable obstacle, Charles de Gaulle, who vetoed Britain's entry into the Common Market. Since then, he has sandbagged every effort of Britain and other outsiders to establish meaningful consultation processes between E.F.T.A. and the Common Market. But De Gaulle will not be there forever; and almost any successor in Paris is likely to be more receptive to the concept of a broader Europe.

All the more important for Wilson to be building his little bridges now. In any case, there are signs that France's Common Market partners are getting tired of waiting, as someone put it in Vienna, "until some of us are gathered to the immortals," and would like to boost their trade with the Outer Seven. It is not impossible that Harold Wilson's initiative may produce new discussions with or without the consent of Charles de Gaulle--just as it has produced a new and startling European outlook for the Labor Party in Britain.

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