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Guardian Review

In effect, this is Part Two of Chris Patten's memoirs, even though he explicitly eschews the idea of writing a memoir. Admittedly, his memoirs deal only with the more recent episodes of his life: Part One, East and West , was about his governorship of Hong Kong, while Not Quite the Diplomat covers his period as a European Commissioner in Brussels. That said, Part Two is a far more important and interesting book than Part One. The problem with East and West was that being governor of Hong Kong - the last but one colonial redoubt in East Asia - was a bit like watching a football match from the vantage point of the turnstiles: Patten was a complete (and unwanted) outsider to the great events transforming the region. As a consequence, his observations carried little weight and were often awry. This book is entirely different. On its main themes - the United States, Europe, Britain and the Conservative party - Patten speaks with real authority and intimate knowledge. As the reflections of a leading British and European politician at a turning point in western affairs, his book is of clear importance, not least because his views are characterised by an admirable candour and independence of mind. The recurring theme is the shift in American foreign policy under George Bush and what it means for Europe and the world. Patten, as a longstanding Conservative and supporter of the Atlantic alliance, is deeply troubled by the sounds and signals now emanating from Washington. At the outset he paints a revealing picture of the history of his own relationship with the United States: his father was a publisher of early American pop singers; Patten, after Oxford, went to the States on a lavishly funded scholarship and later worked on Republican John Lindsay's New York mayoral campaign. His story is not untypical of our political class and helps to explain its affinity with the United States. But the US with which Patten felt enormous sympathy and connection has turned into something that he now finds deeply disturbing. He is merciless about the neo-cons and deeply concerned about the unilateralist turn in American foreign policy. He is a savage critic of the invasion of Iraq and Britain's support for it: "If Mr Blair has signed up to this worldview, in which preventive wars are acceptable for America as the global superpower, though for no one else, and in which America can in practice follow its own rules and do whatever it likes, then he has done immeasurable damage to our historical relationship with the United States, to the values on which it is based, and to our previously shared commitment to the international rule of law." Nor does Patten seek refuge in the idea that this is but a transient phase in American politics. He writes: "It looks as though the divisions in attitude between Europe and America may grow, or that, at the very least, they will not dissolve, and that previous assumptions of unity across the Atlantic may come to appear as unnatural consequences of the cold war." For Patten, the US has taken leave of its senses and deserted its previous beliefs. "Americans," he argues, "are not by nature imperialists." But as Niall Ferguson suggests in his book Colossus , America was expansionary from its very inception. Its commitment to international rules and alliances since 1918, and especially after 1945, was more a matter of expediency than high principle. Patten's opposition to the war in Iraq and the unilateralist turn in American foreign policy is one he shares with two of his former Conservative colleagues, Michael Heseltine and Kenneth Clarke. There has been much comment about New Labour's support for Bush but little about the fact that these icons of what was once the mainstream Tory tradition have adopted an utterly contrasting position. The tone of Patten's book is not unduly pessimistic. But there is nonetheless a certain melancholy about his position. As a lifelong friend of the US he now finds himself abandoned by it: he has the political and intellectual honesty to face this fact, but it cannot be easy. At the same time, another, even more important, pillar of his political life, namely the Conservative party, has also moved in a very contrary direction to his own, thereby leaving him, at least in institutional terms, somewhat homeless. The melancholy that follows from all this does not infect the book, but it compels a certain reflection about the future of the political tradition that he comes from and represents. In the early part of the book, Patten reflects on Britain's troubled relationship with Europe. He explains Britain's discordant attitude towards Europe essentially in terms of "who and what we think we are": our failure to face up to postwar decline, the affirmation provided by the fact that we won the second world war, and our historical contempt for Europe. His language is tough and blunt: "We should not be trapped by our history in a cocoon of claustrophobic self-regard." Europe is without doubt the subject on which he is most positive. It is also, alas, the most tedious section of the book. Patten displays, rather in the fashion of a schoolmaster, the annoying trait of commending or reviling those with whom - in his brief sojourn as a global diplomat - he has had dealings. The tone, in these parts at least, frequently grates, even though it is sometimes leavened by his enjoyable wit. One could make rather more fundamental criticisms. Empire and colonialism are for the most part strangely absent. He likes the broad historical sweep, but for the most part history starts around 1900, apart from the occasional reference to ancient Greece. The 19th century is virtually invisible. It is quite impossible to make sense of modern Britain - or the modern world, including nation- states and national sovereignty - without discussing the legacy of colonialism, yet Patten seeks to do precisely that. Moreover, he seems almost oblivious to race or racism. He also adopts a strangely unhistorical view of democracy, which he never ceases to lecture the world upon, often, it feels, from the pulpit. He notes, in a tone of surprise: "China - like other authoritarian regimes in recent years in Asia - shows that it is possible to develop an economy without democracy." Why the surprise? That has been the case with virtually every industrialised country in the world, with the exception of India. It was certainly true of Europe. These are serious criticisms, but they should not detract from the importance of the key themes of this book. Patten is a persuasive and intelligent commentator. He has much that is refreshing and sensible to say about the United States in particular, but also Europe, including its relations with Islam. If only his outlook informed the present government's foreign policy. Alas, it does not. Martin Jacques is visiting scholar at Renmin University in Beijing. To order Not Quite the Diplomat for pounds 18 with free UK p&p go to guardian.co.uk/ bookshop or call 0870 836 0875. Caption: article-newpatten.1 This book is entirely different. On its main themes - the United States, Europe, Britain and the Conservative party - [Chris Patten] speaks with real authority and intimate knowledge. As the reflections of a leading British and European politician at a turning point in western affairs, his book is of clear importance, not least because his views are characterised by an admirable candour and independence of mind. The recurring theme is the shift in American foreign policy under George Bush and what it means for Europe and the world. Patten, as a longstanding Conservative and supporter of the Atlantic alliance, is deeply troubled by the sounds and signals now emanating from Washington. At the outset he paints a revealing picture of the history of his own relationship with the United States: his father was a publisher of early American pop singers; Patten, after Oxford, went to the States on a lavishly funded scholarship and later worked on Republican John Lindsay's New York mayoral campaign. His story is not untypical of our political class and helps to explain its affinity with the United States. But the US with which Patten felt enormous sympathy and connection has turned into something that he now finds deeply disturbing. Patten's opposition to the war in Iraq and the unilateralist turn in American foreign policy is one he shares with two of his former Conservative colleagues, Michael Heseltine and Kenneth Clarke. There has been much comment about New Labour's support for Bush but little about the fact that these icons of what was once the mainstream Tory tradition have adopted an utterly contrasting position. The tone of Patten's book is not unduly pessimistic. But there is nonetheless a certain melancholy about his position. As a lifelong friend of the US he now finds himself abandoned by it: he has the political and intellectual honesty to face this fact, but it cannot be easy. At the same time, another, even more important, pillar of his political life, namely the Conservative party, has also moved in a very contrary direction to his own, thereby leaving him, at least in institutional terms, somewhat homeless. The melancholy that follows from all this does not infect the book, but it compels a certain reflection about the future of the political tradition that he comes from and represents. - Martin Jacques.