Europe’s rebellion

Why does the E.U. need a constitution?

The European Union has grown too big to keep operating under its old, ad hoc rules. Founded in 1951 as a modest, six-nation economic alliance, it evolved by 1995 into a 15-nation union designed to rival the United States in economic and political clout. Today, the confederation includes 25 countries, with more to come. Yet by internal agreement, many decisions still require the unanimous consent of all of its member nations. The constitution was meant to streamline the voting process and create more of an organizing federal structure, with a president and a foreign minister. But Europe's attempt to mimic the U.S. Constitution went awry. The U.S. document is a pithy seven articles, with 27 amendments. Europe's proposed constitution contains 448 articles, running more than 300 pages.

Why is it so complicated?

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It was written over a period of years by bureaucrats intent on pleasing all members and offending no one. (One sentence reads: 'œIf the mutual assistance recommended by the commission is not granted by the Council or if the mutual assistance granted and the measures taken are insufficient, the Commission shall authorize the Member State with a derogation which is in difficulties to take protective measures, the conditions and details of which the Commission shall determine.') Another obstacle to clarity was the mixed motives of its authors: Even though the constitution is supposed to create a more unified Europe, it's crammed with exceptions and caveats, all designed to preserve the rights of specific nations to opt out of certain regulations.

Why did the French object to that?

They didn't, really. It was not the specifics of the constitution that prompted France's rejection. Some 'œno' voters, angry about the high unemployment rate, just wanted to stick it to President Jacques Chirac. For many others, voting no was a way to express their growing apprehension that the French way of life—particularly its emphasis on short workweeks, long vacations, and the pursuit of pleasure—is being diluted by outside influences. The last expansion brought in 10 poor, mostly former communist countries, whose people are willing to work longer and for less pay than the French. Labor unions and socialists want no part of these countries, or their striving immigrants. French right-wingers, on the other hand, feared that the next expansion, which could admit Turkey, would accelerate the 'œIslamicization' of Europe. Member of the European Parliament Daniel Cohn-Bendit said France's 'œno' voters were 'œa strange alliance of antiglobalization activists, communists, and neo-fascists.'

How about the Dutch voters?

Like the French, the Dutch are concerned about preserving their way of life. Only in their case, it isn't short working hours and long vacations they treasure, but their freewheeling, libertarian culture. Many in the Netherlands fear that a stronger E.U. could outlaw euthanasia, prostitution, and marijuana bars—all now legal there. There's also a growing Dutch backlash against 'œmulticulturalism'—a code word for Muslims. The Netherlands already has a large, unassimilated Muslim immigrant minority. Like the French, the Dutch fear that letting in a large Muslim nation such as Turkey will only fuel the rise of Islamic fundamentalism within their own borders.

So this is about nationalism?

Pretty much. Neither the French nor the Dutch want to destroy the E.U. They just don't want it to get much stronger than it already is. Right now, the E.U.'s institutions are run by unelected bureaucrats—the commissioners. (The only directly elected body, the European Parliament, has almost no real power.) Most British, French, and Dutch still view these commissioners as 'œforeigners' who suddenly have power over their countries and their lives. Ordinary people are beginning to feel, says Christian Wernicke in Munich's Süddeutsche Zeitung, 'œas if they've been delivered up to an anonymous leviathan, obscure but omnipotent, relentlessly spreading.'

Is the constitution now dead?

So what happens now?

Independent