Decoding Bayeux Tapestry diplomacy between UK and France - Taipei Times

Not since the treasures of the boy pharaoh Tutankhamun arrived in London more than 50 years ago has there been such excitement over a blockbuster exhibition.

The Bayeux Tapestry commemorating Duke William of Normandy's victory over King Harold's Anglo-Saxons at Hastings in 1066 is set to go on show at the British Museum this week. About 100,000 tickets were snapped up in minutes. The Times of London called it "the loan of the millennium."

On Wednesday last week, Britain's King Charles III, French President Emmanuel Macron, British Prime Minister Andy Burnham and their spouses got a sneak preview. The king celebrated the display as a symbol of an "entente amicale" between France and Britain — one step up from the historical "entente cordiale" that led the two countries to fight as allies in World War I.

Contemporary symbolism was also on display. Sundered by Brexit, London and Paris are drawing closer together as they share the same fears: European security is threatened by Russian President Vladimir Putin's revanchist nation and US President Donald Trump's fickleness as an ally; last week the White House tacitly encouraged Argentine President Javier Milei to reclaim the Falklands, the South Atlantic islands that the UK fought to defend from an invasion by Argentina 44 years ago.

There is another European context, too. The year 1066 represented a turning point in history, marking Britain's second political integration with the continent, after the Roman Empire and before the UK's accession to the European Community in 1973. The tapestry was originally commissioned by William's half-brother, Bishop Odo of Bayeux, as political propaganda. Today, the leaders of France and Britain promote the world's most celebrated work of embroidery to make a point about the UK's European destiny.

Not everyone is joining in the cordiality. John Redwood, a former Conservative leadership contender and arch-Brexiteer, tweeted sourly: "As we consider the Bayeux embroidery, we should remember the many killed by this French invasion. English men and women had their lands stolen. Many were put into serfdom by a new Norman governing class."

That is a theme, not a quirk. Down the centuries, English nationalists and radicals have denounced "the Norman yoke" and praised semi-mythical Anglo-Saxon freedoms. History-obsessed Euroskeptics detect a line of descent from Norman feudalism to overlordship by the bureaucrats of Brussels.

The Battle of Hastings did indeed prise England out of the northern world dominated by the heirs of the Vikings, including King Canute, who legendarily ordered the incoming tide to stop. Today, some Brexiteers regret leaving the European Free Trade Association, the UK's former trade agreement with mostly Scandinavian countries, which was relinquished when Britain joined the European Economic Community. They salute "plucky" Iceland, which has just rejected closer ties with Brussels in a referendum.

If Burnham is trying to send a message of readiness to reconnect through the tapestry, Macron has also defied nationalist opinion at home to bring the work across the English Channel — his critics on the far right said it was too sacred, too fragile a relic to hand over.

"The loan took longer to negotiate than Brexit," Macron joked last year.

However, behind the flummery stands a cool calculation from a figure dubbed Jupiter for his ability to attract the limelight.

France and Britain are two nuclear-armed, former colonial powers with a muscle memory of operating independently from their great American ally. Unlike Germany, which is hobbled by its history, they have a distinct worldview. Macron would like to enhance that tradition.

A reanimated London-Paris relationship suits the "soft left" on both sides. Le Monde, the voice of French progressives, praises the UK's new prime minister for his embrace of Gallic-style statism. Burnham, who has a Dutch-born wife and spends family time on the continent, is a vocal opponent of Brexit. The prime minister has made no secret of his ambition to rejoin the European single market.

Still, some caveats apply. In this scenario, the UK feels like a petitioner, while the French have taken a transactional view of their relationship with post-Brexit Britain and continue to extract a high price for cooperation. French demands for a huge financial contribution have prevented the UK from joining the 150 billion euro (US$174 billion) EU SAFE program, designed to scale up arms production across the continent.

Macron has also secured large sums from the British government to pay French police to stop migrants from sailing across the Channel. The day after the Bayeux Tapestry jamboree at the British Museum, the tabloid Sun newspaper alleged a "French stitch-up" on its front page — an excruciating pun, but one that makes a telling point in an article about French police officers failing to intervene in the crossings.

Moreover, rejoining the single market will be an uphill battle. Even Europhiles like former British prime minister Tony Blair warn against going too far, too fast.

Brussels regulation of the key industries of the future, where the UK has a comparative advantage, has become more restrictive since the Brexit referendum. Then, the concern was genome editing and clinical trials, today, it is artificial intelligence and low-carbon energy.

Duke William's victory at Hastings was never inevitable; until his dying day, he feared that the Norse kings would steal his English prize. Although the EU exerts a powerful attraction on Britain, how London finally settles its relationship with Brussels remains to be seen.

Martin Ivens is the editor of the Times Literary Supplement. Previously, he was editor of the Sunday Times of London and its chief political commentator. This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.