9The so-called Rhine
Divide permeates
the shape and
priorities of the EU
more powerfully
than the UK
ILLUSTRATION BY KATE HAZELL
dubbed the Rhine Divide. (To stave off
complaints by pedants, this refers to the
stretch of the Rhine that marks the
national border between Alsace and
Baden-Wurttemberg.) More broadly, it
reflects the persistence of outlooks
pre-dating the First World War.
The Franco-Prussian war of 1870–
is not one the EU much likes to com-
memorate, but it marked the moment
when Bismarck’s emerging unified
Germany defeated the ‘Grande Nation’
and overthrew the Second Empire. It
marked the rise of Germany, not only
as a ruthless military power but also as
a technologically more adroit one.
As Andreas Roedder, who teaches
history at the Johannes Gutenberg
University in Mainz, observes: “For Ger-
mans the historical trauma is inflation- and for the French, the historical
trauma is the Germans.”
But what does that mean for relations
between the two today?
Princeton economist Markus
Brunnermeier says that understanding
the outcome of the Second World War
is central to understanding the current
fear hyperinflation. This makes them
inclined towards deflationary policies.
The result has seen doses of austerity
meted out to the likes of Ireland and
Greece by the German-run European
Central Bank, aiming to stem the risk of
inflation creeping back into the system.
But there are cultural as well as
economic differences in the two nations’
political attitudes. The gloire of French
presidents is different from the pragmat-
ic, party-balancing role of German
chancellors. Even the grandiose
‘Kohllosseum’ – the federal chancellery
built in Berlin after unification – feels
like a big, echoing office. The Élysée in
Paris, on the other hand, is a true palace,
with its Gobelin tapestries and priceless
artworks (no spending constraint there).
One big reason that relations beneath
the surface have not been smooth
between Merkel and Macron is that he
argued for structural reforms of the
French economy and to reform the
Eurozone. That required money from
the EU pot – which, in effect, means the
German one. Merkel – true to the
stereotype of thrifty German leaders –
has refused any serious rise in the
Eurozone budget. That strain will
manifest itself the next time there is
a crisis in the Eurozone, because there
is no agreed way of dealing with an
internal or external shock. Another
bout of austerity would not get a warm
welcome across a Europe experiencing
populist insurgencies.
When it comes to Brexit, the
European 27 have toughed it outRhine Divide (a term he popularised,
incidentally). Since that conflict, Ger-
many has been run as a decentralised
state, held together by budgetary and
deficit rules, and imposing austerity
on itself and others in lean times. By
contrast, France is a strongly centralised
power that tends to try to spend its way
out of trouble. French debt stands at an
eye-watering 99% of GDP as President
Macron loosens fiscal girdles in an
attempt to see off the gilet jaunes (‘yellow
vests’) protesters with spending pledges.
Why is France more prone to spend-
thrift ways than Germany? “People
looked back at the 1930s, when there
were austerity measures in France, and
saw cutbacks in military expenditure,”
Brunnermeier notes. “That was seen as a
big mistake when the Germans attacked
in 1940. So the France we see today –
with more planning, more intervention
in the economy – is a corrective to a
period that presaged disaster for France.”
It is often said that Germans,
recalling the chaos of the Weimar years,Æ