THE demonstrations that led to the fall of the Berlin Wall came out of nowhere, says Günther Dauwen, and had consequences nobody could foresee. Observing the proceedings in Scotland last week, he wondered if something similar might be brewing. From a quiet fourth-floor office in Brussels Mr Dauwen runs the European Free Alliance (EFA), a rum assortment of 40 regional political groups, including the Scottish National Party (SNP), that seek greater autonomy, or, in some cases, independence, from existing countries. From the plains of Silesia to the beaches of Corsica, reckons Mr Dauwen, there is a growing clamour for power among Europe’s long-neglected regions. Scotland is a “beacon” for such places; that its independence referendum was achieved at all encouraged others to think “Yes, we can!”, even though the outcome was negative. In the run-up to the vote the EFA’s website nearly crashed under the weight of traffic.
Watching the streets of Edinburgh filling up with Saltire-waving Catalans, Flemings and South Tyroleans (not to mention Québécois, Kurds and Taiwanese) last week, a visitor might have been forgiven for assuming that something was stirring in Europe. Some commentators fretted about the prospect of “balkanisation” across the continent. Yet although parts of Europe may one day drift towards dissolution, and Catalonia is trying to hold a vote on its future, the Scottish effect was overdone. Pro-independence campaigners in Flanders or the Veneto will have taken heart from the Scottish campaign, but given the different constitutional arrangements of Belgium and Italy they will struggle to draw useful lessons from it. And it will take a lot more to rouse the good burghers of Bavaria or Frisia from their slumbers.
Outside Britain, the biggest impact of a Scottish vote for secession would have been felt within the European Union. Ever since it adopted “Independence in Europe!” as a slogan in 1988, EU membership has been central to the SNP’s proposition. For small nations, the prospect of staying in a giant trading block with its own foreign policy and currency makes the idea of statehood less daunting. In contrast to what is perceived as an oppressive multinational state, it may offer space for identities to flourish. Asked in 2007 if his country wanted to establish a “Greater Albania”, an Albanian official referred to the EU symbol: “Yes we do. It has a blue flag and gold stars on it.”
All the trickier, then, that the EU has no explicit legal provision for dealing with breakaways. At times Alex Salmond, the SNP’s leader, appeared to suggest that Scotland’s accession to the EU could be achieved through a minor treaty revision. But most observers, including the European Commission, agree that an independent Scotland (or Catalonia, or Flanders) would have to reapply for membership after obtaining statehood. That could take years, so an interim solution would have to be found to avoid, for example, Germans in Edinburgh suddenly finding that they lose the right to work. As ever in the EU, politics trumps law, and paths can be smoothed if the will is there.
But for precisely that reason, would-be Scotlands might find the road to membership rougher than they predict. Had Scotland seceded, the terms of its accession to the EU and any interim arrangement would have set precedents for other potential breakaways. They would therefore have been subject to fierce wrangling. Spain would probably not have gone as far as to veto Scottish accession, but it would have had every incentive to make it as difficult as possible, as a warning to Catalans and Basques. In Scotland’s case, the obligation of new members to work towards membership of the euro and the Schengen passport-free zone, both of which it has no interest in joining, would have created plenty of trouble. The only guarantee would be that of a healthy pay cheque to constitutional lawyers.
Breaking up is hard to do
The EU has improvised its way through before. Independence campaigners like to cite the example of East Germany, swept by the gusts of politics into the then EEC after German reunification almost before fellow members had a chance to notice (although helped by an article in the West German constitution that foresaw reunification). Maps of the European Coal and Steel Community, a precursor to the EU, drawn up before 1962 often include Algeria as part of France. Danish-administered Greenland left the club in 1985 without triggering a constitutional crisis.
But there are running sores. Cyprus was admitted to the EU in 2004 with more than one-third of its territory under Turkish occupation. Some countries in eastern Europe with restive minorities worried about the consequences of a Scottish “yes”. Five EU members, including Spain, still refuse to recognise Kosovo as an independent country for fear of rousing secessionist sentiment at home. In Ukraine the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic expressed solidarity with Scots seeking independence, and the leader of Russia-annexed Crimea announced that he detected hypocrisy in the West’s treatment of Scotland’s referendum and that in his territory.
In the run-up to Scotland’s referendum EU officials strained to avoid taking a position on the consequences of a “yes” (while quietly preparing contingency plans in case of a sudden flight of capital). But they were immensely relieved by the outcome. There have been very few changes to the borders of west European countries since the second world war. The EU is designed to bring members together, not to manage their disintegration—or the process of “internal enlargement” that may have to follow. “After half a century of building Europe, we risk entering a period of deconstruction,” said François Hollande, the French president, as Scots went to the polls. That may be an exaggeration, but it captures the fears of many.