Common Market: Breaking Out the Bubbly

IT was a fitting finale for Britain's ten-year quest for membership in the thriving European Economic Community. Dawn had already broken and sleeping reporters were sprawled around the press quarters when the Foreign Ministers of the Six invited British Chief Negotiator Geoffrey Rippon to their conference room to hear his formal acceptance of their conditions for British entry. As Rippon stepped into the room on the second story of Luxembourg's modernistic Kirchberg European Center, the rumpled, bleary-eyed ministers spontaneously broke into applause. The gesture was as much an indication of relief as of welcome to Britain, whose two earlier bids had been rebuffed by Charles de Gaulle.

The night before, the British had confidently filled a bathtub with bottles of Luxembourg champagne and ice. Now they broke out the bubbly. "This is a historic day," declared Rippon. His sentiments were echoed throughout the capitals of Europe. The successful completion of the latest British negotiations, which first began in earnest last fall in Brussels, meant that membership also seems certain for Norway, Ireland and Denmark. By 1973, the Six may well be the Ten, with a combined economic strength surpassing the Soviet Union's and rivaling even the U.S.'s. The French, whose changed attitude made the crucial difference, were jubilant. "After two nights without sleep, you see a satisfied man," exulted French Foreign Minister Maurice Schumann. Then, mindful that some skeptics had predicted a third failure for Britain, he added: "The pessimists are often wrong."

Final Snag. Even at the last minute, those pessimists had very nearly been right. Despite the recent Paris accord between French President Georges Pompidou and British Prime Minister Edward Heath about the desirability of Britain's admission, the negotiations hit one final snag. The issue was New Zealand, whose English-descended dairy farmers depend heavily on United Kingdom markets for their economic survival. The New Zealanders urgently wanted guarantees that after the mother country joined the Common Market and passed behind its protectionist agricultural tariffs, their cheese and butter exports would continue to their best customer.

Rippon pressed for assurances that New Zealand would be able to export 75% of its dairy products to the EEC. The French objected that the Community's European spirit would be violated by granting special privileges to farmers more than half the globe away.

Saddled with dairy surpluses themselves, the Six were reluctant to enrage their own farmers by exposing them to additional competition from the highly efficient New Zealanders.

Common Market diplomats were also annoyed at the intrusion of New Zealand's Deputy Prime Minister John Marshall, who had jetted in from Wellington and periodically slipped up Kirchberg's backstairs to huddle with the British negotiators. At one point, Schumann stormed that Rippon's demands were "no basis for discussion," and he spoke of his "most profound sadness" at the turn of events.

Butter and Cheese. Conceivably, the negotiations could have broken down right there. Speculation is that Schumann telephoned Pompidou for instructions and from Paris came the word to work out a compromise. The result was a deal that New Zealand Prime Minister Sir Keith Holyoake immediately accepted. His country will be allowed to export 80% of its present butter sales of 170,000 tons annually to the Common Market for five years, after which the concession will come up for review. Britain can then lobby for an extension. But New Zealand's cheese sales will be phased out during the next five years.

For its part, Britain, which previously had offered to pay only 3% of the EEC's $4 billion budget during its five-year transitional period, agreed to contribute 8.6% in the first year with payments rising to 19% in the fifth year. After seven years, the British financial commitment will be open-ended. Like other EEC members, London will hand over all its food-import levies, customs duties, and possibly some sales-tax receipts directly to the Community treasury.

Frightful Mess. Despite the popping corks that celebrated the agreement, the British battle over membership is, in a sense, only beginning. Some Tory Cabinet Ministers forecast a 150-vote majority for British entry into the Market when the question is put to Commons in the fall. But that could prove a very rash prediction. The average Briton is still afraid of the EEC's high food prices and fearful of losing British sovereignty to the Brussels-based Eurocracy. Britain's most powerful trade union leaders are dead set against the EEC. The pressures already are so great that the Labor Party may soon be forced to take an antiMarket position. Former Prime Minister Harold Wilson and Deputy Party Leader Roy Jenkins would have preferred to keep the party's options open until the regular party convention in October. But a group of antiMarket Labor M.P.s, led by fiery Barbara Castle, last week forced the party leadership to agree to hold a special conference at which the Laborites will publicly debate their EEC policy.

Prince Philip has added his voice to the debate. Speaking to a conference of the Royal Agricultural Society of the Commonwealth in Edinburgh, the Prince said that the EEC's farm system had produced "a most frightful mess." He warned that "this is something this country is about to discover if and when it joins the Common Market." When the British press pounced on the Prince for meddling in political matters, Buckingham Palace hastily explained that he had not meant to convey an antiMarket attitude. Still, some Britons could not help but feel that even though Philip frequently shoots from the lip, this time his remarks just might have reflected the feelings of the Queen.

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