Today is the day Mrs May tries to get some movement into the Brexit negotiations trench warfare. I expect the reception will be lots of negative noises in foreign accents, especially if Yanis Varoufakis (and I) prove to be right that Brussels doesn't want to see a "successful" negotiation. In similar vein, former Chancellor Nigel Lawson, said that too much time and energy is being wasted on negotiations with Brussels. He went on "Those who say that a good trade deal is in the best interests of the EU and the UK alike wholly fail to understand what the EU is about. It is not about economics at all. It is a political enterprise, dedicated to the achievement of full political union"*. As I've been saying, their "project" matters more to them than economic prosperity.
A little while ago David Davis appealed, almost pathetically, for flexibility and innovation to move things forward in the Brexit negotiations. It reminded me, nostalgically, of the biggest commercial deal I ever negotiated, getting on for 15 years ago. One of my salesmen had been courting the Ministry of Defence, to whom our company provided services, over many months if not years. He was looking for a win-win where, if they would sign up in advance for packages of work which they normally bought piecemeal, there would be gains for both parties - the certainty of a long term contract for us and big price reductions for them based on real cost savings because the set up costs each time were huge. He found the ground fertile and the customer's buyers kept putting more things in the pan - "what if we add in this? And that?" When I told the company's corporate centre wallahs that our price was going over £20 million (main board approval was needed for a formal bid over £10 millon) I'm sure they thought I was on something rather than onto something. But in due course we were invited to submit a tender against a spec that lead to a price of around £22 million. At this point my corporate friends got over excited and, after the bid had gone in and we headed off to the first serious negotiation, I was briefed by the CEO to get the deal signed by the end of the week (!?) at a price not less than £20 million, so it could be publicised with the company half year results, which I guessed clearly needed 'sexing up'. (The company was a stock exchange quoted plc, at its zenith on the fringe of the FTSE 250).
The first morning's negotiation proceeded painfully slowly, with my 2 colleagues dealing with nit picking details posed by the other side, which outnumbered us by a factor of 2 (they were civil servants after all) and which eroded our price by tiny sums, totalling maybe £100k altogether. As lunchtime approached I figured that the negotiation was proceeding at a rate that wouldn't lead to a deal anything like in time. Even with my passion for detail, the thought of more than a week of this made me feel almost suicidal. But desperation kicked my brain into gear. Addressing my opposite number, I said "I think I've figured out your brief and, in order to move things forward more quickly, I'm happy to tell you mine" and then paused for silence to work its magic. Sitting next to me, my commercial manager, who I'd worked with on and off for over a decade, looked horrified and went a very funny colour. The response from across the table was something like "er, ok....". "I suspect you've been told to get the deal done but not at more than £20 million" I said, again leaving a silence. The wry smiles on the faces of the other team confirmed that my hunch was right. Then they started to look intrigued. "My brief is to do the deal quickly but at not less than £20 million". Intrigue was replaced with concern. "However, I expect I can get agreement for a price of, say £19.95 million, as long as we get it signed this week and you are happy for us to announce the contract is valued at around £20 million". "Why don't we break for lunch now and we'll respond when we get back together" was the response. Instead of taking stock and pondering what to do over lunch, my team was able to talk about interesting stuff like football, albeit nervously, while I made a quick call back to the ranch. The afternoon session was convivial and brisk: we agreed the price at £19.95M, placed actions for the teams to flog through the detail to get the necessary price breakdown schedules to come to the right number and what the process would be to sign the documents and agree the press release. I was back in my office 60 miles away before the folks there went home, with a diary freed up for the whole of the rest of the week.
If only Brexit could be resolved so easily. The thing was - we both wanted to do a good deal, one that left everybody happy. Michel Barnier's brief is to leave the UK feeling bruised, battered and unhappy. There's no way that can ever be a win-win. The best that can be achieved is a broadly equal degree of unhappiness, an equality of misery.
But I can't help hoping David Davis still looks cheerful at the end of it and Barnier looks like the proverbial sick parrot. Indeed, some days the only "win" I can see would be for the apparently unflappable and cheerful Davies to drive misery mush Barnier to a nervous breakdown. An uncharitable thought, but I bet I'm not the only one!
*Nigel Lawson's piece was in the FT
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