What is a European debate? However hard you try, its hard to come up with better ways of initiating a European dialogue than an awkward opening gambit such as We have cows in Finland too.
Such a bid for attention is deplorable. It might be an effective way of communicating historical and social experience. It might even help resolve some common European problems. But I would hardly call this approach a European debate.
A sensible, adequate European debate requires you to share key concepts and to have symbols of some sort in common as Krzysztof Bobinskis illuminating article about the fate of the Polish stork suggests. If we are to going to move on from threadbare provincialism to thinking trans-nationally, it is intellectually as well as morally vital that local and regional experience is acknowledged. We must also be able to identify key concepts and analyse their different usages without trying to end up with common definitions.
This means, among other things, that every attempt to square the debate by resorting to British, French or German standards should be condemned as offensively patronising. Such attempts might be termed the Barrington Moore syndrome, after the writer of that 1960s classic The Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy. He believed that in order to understand contemporary political culture one only had to study the political life of great nations, since it is the fate of small nations to copy their practices and patterns of thought.
Paradoxically, in post-nation-states, in a globalized world where the borders between nations are supposed to be of less importance, our words increasingly acquire meaning and context through contrasting our own experiences with those of other people. If you are intellectually honest, this is true of big nations and small ones alike.
I am fascinated by the disparity between the common media space in (what might be called) the British and Irish Islands, on the one hand, and the specific kind of shared political thinking that has developed among the Nordic countries on the other. Here we have two kinds of concepts and symbols, which, though profoundly different, are both trans-national and held in common.
I would like to use them to explore some of the problems we face in trying to create a common European debate. Both offer models for such a debate, though to my mind the British-Irish example is the more important.
Common experiences allow people to read each others newspapers
British and Irish journalists share the same trade union. The National Union of Journalists, established in 1907, has operated across both countries since 1941. Journalists in England, Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and the Republic feel comfortable with only one union, presumably because of what they still share. The symbols, topics, names and cultural codes being commonly understood, they read each others newspapers without difficulty. In the course of their careers they may work in more than one region of these islands.
Newsmen and women on these islands look upon the world in their own way. They write for different kinds of newspapers and produce different kinds of regional agendas. There is more than one arena in which to compete for political influence: not only Londons Westminster and Dublins Dáil, but the new Scottish parliament in Edinburgh and the Welsh and Northern Ireland assemblies in Cardiff and Belfast. If regional government comes to England, other regional centres could gain more power and prestige. If one insists (as I am inclined to do) on talking about a common British and Irish cultural and media sphere, one has to add very strongly that the space is pillarised a metaphor often used for describing the separate Catholic and Protestant sectors in Dutch society with separate, multiple British and Irish political, cultural and media pillars.
However, the British Empire was not only geographically differentiated. Just as important was a strong dissenting culture which made it impossible to integrate the society through a consensus of values. Against this background we can easily see why the value system differs. But, what is important in this connection is that the concepts and symbols are shared, even if they are highly contentious. Princess Diana represents different things in different circles.
In his book on Postnationalist Ireland, Richard Kearney uses the concept of hyphenated nations to describe the relationship between nations such as Britain and Ireland. What he means is that on a deeper level they have something profound in common. In order to understand one of the two cultures, one has to include the story of the other. In the Nordic countries the situation is different. You can write an intelligent history of Norway without mentioning Finland.
Common experiences, but no shared newspapers
Do I know the name of the Norwegian, Icelandic or Danish prime ministers? Hardly. As a Finn it is not really important to know such things.
The Brirish (to use a meta-communality suggested by Simon Partridge) kind of media community does not exist in the Nordic countries. We can only read each others newspapers with difficulty. And this is not primarily because of linguistic differences between the Nordic countries.
There are important institutional links between journalists in the Nordic countries, just as there are between all sectors of society in these countries. The political culture in Nordic countries passes through a Nordic filter. They might differ in their strategic solutions; they might be independent nations, but the neighbouring Nordic countries are still the first other.
In all sections of society, from the legislative processes in parliament to communication among grassroot NGOs, decisions are made only after the issues have been debated in a Nordic arena, filtered through a Nordic context. An essential part of the national culture consists of this Nordic filter. The question of being a Nordic citizen does not occur at such gatherings.
Compare this filter of horizontal communication and collective reflection with the post-imperial British commonwealth of today. Within this Commonwealth of fifty-four countries, the acknowledgement of the importance of shared history constitutes an obvious first other. However, the difference between this first other within the Commonwealth and the Nordic countries, is that the latter are socially and culturally more similar.
The hyphenated nations syndrome is not unknown in the Nordic countries. It is there in the relationship between Sweden and Finland, Denmark and Norway, and Denmark and Iceland, and in a weaker sense, between Sweden and Norway. But the hyphen syndrome is by no means responsible for Nordic identity. The Nordic countries share another set of historical linkages, one that is lacking in Irish-British relations.
Regardless of whether the Nordic citizens feel that they are members of an (invented) Nordic family (most Nordic citizens approve such an allegiance, while some refuse to recognize it), they nevertheless look upon the world in the same way. They share the same value system, rooted in common historical experiences as part of a uniform Lutheran culture, where culture, state and church were inseparable parts of a cohesive social structure. The names and words differ, but on a deeper level there is a set of shared key concepts. They are contested, but not in the same degree as in the British and Irish case. We have (had) a state-loving culture, one where private health care and private schools are (were) regarded as OK as long as the public service is (was) better.
In the Nordic countries we understand each other without knowing very much about one another, without being able to bandy about the names of common public figures.
Inventing a European tradition
On visiting Spain President George W. Bush called the Spanish Prime Minister Anzar rather than Aznar, which was rather embarrassing given that this was a state visit. But we should not be too embarrassed. Lets be honest: how many of us informed and literate Europeans do remember the name of the Spanish prime minister? The question which interests me is why we should know his name at all.
There are bad and good reasons for our needing a European debate. The strategy of convergence is one of the bad reasons. This approach to creating a common tradition involves resolving complicated differences of opinion by elaborating definitions which as many people can agree on as possible. It aims at consensus on key concepts, including that of Europe.
A shared definition of Europe is an imagined Europe which despite or because it is imagined is frighteningly effective in grinding differences and keeping civic debate narrow. This approach is a sort of extension of the process by which nation-states were created in the nineteenth century, as anatomised by Benedict Anderson in his path-breaking Imagined Communities. It involves erecting monuments in order to corral people into a chorus of approval for common values, which are taken for granted with little or no room for questioning whether they are real or not.
After the Maastricht Treaty, the elite around the European Commission and Council tried hard to promote the integration process and strengthen a sense among Europeans of belonging to the EU. The most famous instance of this is probably the Peoples Europe Campaign in the mid-1980s, which included such ingredients as an anthem (Ode to Joy), European sport teams, Euro-lottery, driving licences, car number-plates, the restoration of the Parthenon, the European Woman of the Year Award, European weeks, public European holidays. More generally, a new set of symbols was introduced for communicating the principles and values upon which the Community is based. Of these, the flag with its twelve yellow stars is the most important. Chris Shore, who has analysed this campaign, does not hesitate to label these campaigns as clumsy attempts at nation-building.
The flag is convenient on many occasions. But it becomes dubious when it is regarded as a clear cut symbol for an uncontested concept of Europe. The bad way of imposing common symbols implies an idea of common values.
I do not mean that there never can be any sort of collective approval of common values. It is fine when legitimate judicial bodies (the Commission is regarded by many as such a body) commit themselves to certain (positive) moral standards as long as they avoid metaphysical statements on the European spirit.
Furthermore there exists another, quite different kind of collective approval that is just as important and productive. It is a logical peculiarity that it is easier to approve what we disapprove, than to collectively approve what we individually approve. Which means we have no difficulty in identifying and agreeing on those things of which we disapprove. The obvious examples are Mr Gobineau, Mr Hitler and Mr Stalin. Perhaps we should give carnivalesque statues a try? Knowing their impact on civic debate in Europe, I can imagine that there might be rather strong support for the erection of negative monuments over people like Mr Berlusconi and Mr Murdoch. And while were at it, why not one of Mr Barrington Moore, to illustrate the argument that social experience in small communities also matters?
Interestingly enough, the EU itself was set up from the beginning as an act of disapproval of the European heritage. The one and only rationale was a wish to make wars between European nations impossible in the future. Certainly a good common denominator! Today we have to keep on reminding ourselves that the EU is not a realisation of an historical heritage but a conscious decision made by a judicial body to make a break with that heritage. Approving peace is another, more complicated matter, because it is difficult to agree on how to define it in positive terms. The key concepts are contestable.
The miserable idea of rooting integration in common European values came later in the history of the EU. The argument goes that a solid EU construction requires a solid base of common European values, and that solidarity requires higher goals. Intellectually this strategy is horrible. How can this be done knowing that among the crucial element in the European heritage we have (with some hesitation), liberty, democracy and toleration; but (without hesitation) features such as absolutist rule, patriarchal relations, intolerance, corruption, arbitrariness, fascism and racism? All attempts to strengthen the legitimacy of the EU, to strengthen the sense of belonging to the EU, or to promote an adequate European debate by focusing on the truth of Europe, by defining the true European values, are miserable projects.
Politically speaking the strategy is anathema, because it runs counter to and neutralises all efforts to make the EU more democratic. To be precise, I think that there is only one common value to be referred to for those who want to strengthen the legitimacy of the EU. That is an aspiration to deepen its democratic practices. This is a never-ending process, which no constitution can solve once and for all.
A sensible, civic-minded European debate requires that we share key concepts and symbols, but at the same time acknowledge separate local, regional, social and gender experiences. It must aspire to identifying key concepts and analysing their different usages without trying to arrive at common definitions.
I should add that the traditional Nordic model of understanding and communicating is not particularly helpful for the EU as long as the model is regarded as being based on a shared value system. As a matter of fact, it is not that efficient in contemporary Nordic societies, either. And this is despite the fact that the Nordic countries do, to a comparatively high degree, share a history and therefore also to some degree a consensus about how such key concepts are apprehended and used. But the logic of inclusion in the Nordic welfare societies will have to be altered, as all contemporary societies, including the Nordic ones, are multicultural. In a democratic future the question of otherness will only be solved by letting the otherness remain as otherness.
Can there be a civic European debate?
We should encourage the practice which I fancy is closer to that of British and Irish journalists where people in the media feel obliged to tell stories about European experiences in whatever part of the continent they happen to be; appealing to a general European readership, on the grounds that these stories concern them.
I have tried to imagine what sort of public life is needed to make this possible. Our first task is to overcome provincial thinking, which does exist in the core of Europe. Having said this, I have to add that in the European fringes we have our own problems. Those in the Nordic countries who quote international (English) writing are regarded as the incarnation of trans-nationalism, although an alternative provincialism may actually be operating here.
The second, much more complicated issue is, again, the question of a common repertoire of concepts, symbols and figures. Lets start talking about how to inhabit public spaces all over Europe, urban as well as rural; virtual as well as other kinds of media space; about how, with our own figures, our own interpretations of contested figures, figures of figures, and figures of thought, we can create an alternative republican public space! Even if the concepts are contested, we still need monuments of some sort.
