in President Giscard d’Estaing’s constituency.
With the other commissioners, I discussed how to avoid manufacturing those
products that the EEC countries would find sensitive because of persistent high
unemployment. I discovered to my dismay that the list was unlimited. Any
member country with any influence on Brussels, feeling the slightest pain, could
appeal to Brussels for protection and would invariably get it. Yet the EEC denied
it was the most protectionist of all the trading blocs. I cited the experience of
Philips and Siemens, two of the best-known European MNCs; they had found it
more difficult to export their Singapore-made electronic products to Europe than
to America and Asia.
I raised two matters: first, that “graduation” leading
to the removal of GSP
benefits should not be applied prematurely to Singapore; and second, that
selective safeguards blocking imports were unlikely to be effective in solving
EEC problems. I tried to convince Jenkins, as president of the EEC, that he
should formalise the promising EEC-Asean relationship
in an agreement for
economic cooperation, and that a visit by him to the countries of Asean would
put the imprimatur of the commission on this goal. Instead, he sent Viscount
Davignon, the commissioner of industrial affairs. Jenkins was not fond of
travelling to the East, whose prospects he did not rate highly. Finally, with the
help of the German foreign minister, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, Asean succeeded
in getting the EEC to sign an agreement in 1980
for a Joint Cooperation
Committee to promote and review activities. Asean countries, however, still
faced endless protectionist problems with this multi-member organisation. Its
agricultural subsidies and tariffs worked against palm oil exports; its health and
safety regulation on rubber products and eco-labelling and other forms of labour
and environmental standards effectively checked Asean exports. As for
Singapore, in 1986, as part of its review of the GSP privileges, the EEC imposed
a quota on Singapore ball bearings.
European MNCs were less agile and dynamic than the Americans and
Japanese. They were missing the opportunities for global integrated production,
manufacturing different components of a product in different countries. That was
the situation in the 1980s and it was still largely true in the 1990s.
To establish ties with the French who were the moving spirit behind the
EEC, I arranged in May 1969 to meet President de Gaulle whom I had long
admired as a great leader. Just before the visit, French students took to the streets
and demanded constitutional reforms
and more university places, in fact
challenging de Gaulle’s legitimacy. The visit was postponed. De Gaulle called a
referendum, lost it and retired. I never got to meet this stern, tall, unbending man
who had restored French pride in themselves and their country, and whose
autobiography impressed me even in an English translation.
Instead I met his successor, Georges Pompidou, in September 1970. He was
friendly and jovial, a man who enjoyed an exchange with a visitor from a strange
faraway place called Singapore. He emphasised that France was more than just
high fashion in clothes, exotic perfumes and great wines. He wanted French
quality chemicals, high-tech machinery, engineering and aircraft to be the image
the world had of 1970s France. He had a philosophical bent and engaged me for
20 minutes on Asian attitudes towards gold. Would it still be highly priced and
treasured if it became no more than a commodity
and no longer a backing for
currency? I was strongly of the opinion that it would. Over the millennia,
historical experience of devastation and famine caused by drought, floods, wars
and other calamities had taught the Chinese people the value of gold,
indestructible, immutable and fungible. The three-and-a-half year Japanese
occupation of Singapore was a recent reminder. I told him that with one
tahil
(slightly more than one ounce) of gold, regardless of hyperinflation, you could
feed a family for a month as well as buy medicine and other essentials. My
account seemed to confirm his own beliefs. I said it
was a primeval instinct in
man. His interpreter, Prince Andronikov, a French Russian émigré, translated
this as
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: