Warning to parents: beware the perils of Maastricht

Date: 19/09/1996

Speaking of subsidiarity - and who isn't these days? -

it is so rewarding to note just how much interest school children are taking in the evolution of the European Union.

Only the other night, I was visiting friends and found their delightful kids leafing keenly through the special Maastricht Treaty information packs their parents had made specially for their recent birthdays, with their initials on the leather-bound covers.

Something, I noted, for them to treasure always.

Naturally they took advantage of my visit to quiz me closely about all things EU and, in particular, the contents of the treaty.

“What are we to make of Article 3b, sir?” one of them enquired.

“Well, you've certainly picked up on the key issue, kids,” I replied, matching, I hoped, their wide-eyed enthusiasm and eagerness to learn.

“Article 3b states quite clearly that action shall be taken and decisions made as close as possible to the people affected by them. Or, to put it another way, powerful busybodies will have to mind their own business and not interfere unless they can prove conclusively that matters are so important and have such a dramatic effect that they are the best people to deal with them. Or, to put it yet another way, things are best left to those best able to do them.”

Europe's future leaders pondered this for a moment and then asked: “What about this word we keep hearing, subjudischarity?”

I patted them on the head under Article 128 section 2 (1) (improvement of the knowledge and dissemination of the culture and history of the European peoples) and reassured them.

“Don't worry about nomenclature, appellations and the like. Subsidiarity, as we call it, is just a long and difficult name for something that is really very very simple. That's how Europe works you see. Take a very ordinary thing and find a word which makes it seem much more difficult. Then create a policy to go with it. You don't need to worry about subsidiarity. Just think of it as the principle of minimum interference, because that's what it means,” I said.

They nodded sagely and asked how it worked in practice.

“Well,” I began, “the idea is that if you think someone is doing something that is best left to you, you raise an objection under the provisions of the Maastricht Treaty so that the whole thing has to be thought about again. Then, if enough people support your view, you win the right to do that thing yourself.”

After a bit more thought, one of the children asked: “Does it work the other way, so that if I think something is best left to someone else, that works too?

Their eagerness to learn, and clear understanding of what has become a fundamental tenet of Union life, filled me with joy. I remember wishing my own children were as keen about European integration instead of just watching television the whole time.

I nodded, quite vigorously. “Oh yes,” I enthused. “Yes indeed. If you get enough support.”

They flicked thoughtfully through the rest of the treaty, and I cannot overstate how gratifying it was to see them taking such an interest.

I left the youngsters huddled over Article K (cooperation in the fields of justice and home affairs), said my farewells and returned home.

No sooner had I entered the house than the phone rang. It was the distraught-sounding mother of the children imploring me to return immediately to tackle an unexpected crisis.

I rushed back to be informed that the children were now refusing all domestic cooperation and that they were waving 253 pages of densely-packed text and threatening legal action under Article 146 (Court of Justice to review legality of actions intended to produce legal effects vis-à-vis third parties).

“Now then, now then,” I said. “What's all this about?”

One of the children stepped forward, with what I felt was an air of almost adult authority. His thumb was inserted in page 13 of the treaty.

“Well, the situation is that mum asked us to feed the hamster and the gerbil and obviously we had to check that against Article 3b.”

Another stepped forward: “Yes, and we find that this is clearly something which falls under the heading of a job that is best left to someone else.”

This required some quick thinking: “But look here,” I said, “You are the ones who are closest to the hamster and the gerbil, so it would appear that the job is best left to you.”

They glanced at the treaty again.

“Mmmm, well we believe that as our dad is closest to the hamster meal, which is up on the top shelf in the larder, this is a matter best left for him.”

At this point, the children's mother intervened, agreeing to feed the blasted animals herself while the children got on with their homework.

I was about to make my excuses and leave, when I realised the children were not budging.

“We've been thinking about homework, and we've decided that under Article 3b, we ought to leave it to someone else.”

There was a shocked silence. Their mother glared at me as if I had personally written the wretched treaty.

I snatched the book from one child's grasp and sure enough, Article 3b, para 2, makes it clear that parents shall take action in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity only if and in so far as the objectives of the proposed action cannot be sufficiently achieved by the children and can therefore, by reason of the scale or effects of the proposed action, be better achieved by the parents.

I left the household with the father feeding the animals, the mother doing the homework and the children watching television, which, they insisted, was something which fell within their exclusive competence. The issue of competence over the washing-up has been referred to the European Court.

I returned home and quietly removed all Maastricht Treaty reference books from the shelves.

There is some reading material these days which is simply not suitable for children.