If you search for information about Garwolin on the internet, you will find that it is a simple but attractive little town in eastern Poland, about 50km east of Warsaw.  Yet 25 years ago, when I lived in Poland, Garwolin was the scene of a nasty confrontation between the forces of communist secularism and Roman Catholicism that has echoes in a landmark judgement last week by the European Court of Human Rights.

The Strasbourg-based court ruled that the display of crucifixes in Italian state school classrooms unlawfully restricted the right of parents to educate their children in accordance with their beliefs.  The seven judges contended that the presence of crucifixes could be “disturbing for pupils who practised other religions or were atheists”.

Predictably, the Vatican poured scorn on the judgement.  The judges seemed to have forgotten about Christianity’s role in forming the identity of Europe, a Vatican spokesman argued.  Italian politicians - even some on the unapologetically secular left - were also indignant.  Pier Luigi Bersani, newly elected leader of the opposition centre-left Democratic party, suggested that common sense had fallen victim to the law.

If anyone in Garwolin bothered to read the court’s ruling, I can well imagine how they must have chuckled bitterly.  For the 1984 troubles in Garwolin erupted over precisely the same dispute: whether the local school could display crucifixes in its classrooms.  I saw how the communist authorities worked themselves into such a frenzy that they sent in the Zomo riot police to take care of the “troublemakers”.

Once that happened, the issue became thoroughly politicised.  It was the communists against not just the Roman Catholic Church, but against the Polish nation as a whole.  The Garwolin protesters did what many anti-communist Poles used to do back then.  They made their way to the Jasna Gora monastery in the city of Czestochowa, where they mixed nationalism with piety by singing hymns and waving the red-and-white banners of the outlawed Solidarity movement.

From the perspective of a Catholic believer, there isn’t necessarily much difference between the repressive actions in Garwolin of Poland’s communist authorities in 1984 and the ruling of the European Court of Human Rights in 2009.  Personally, I do not go anything like that far: the court is a legitimate court, and it is not exactly ordering the use of water cannon or tear gas against unarmed religious believers.

But what the two episodes do tell us is how deep the currents of secularism and humanism run in European public life, in a way that some Americans find disturbing.  The Vatican is doubtless right to say that Christianity has shaped Europe’s identity.  But so, too, have social and intellectual forces opposed to organised religion, starting with the 18th-century Enlightenment and the French Revolution and going all the way to Marxism-Leninism and the liberalism of the European Court of Human Rights.

September’s prize for Headline of the Month goes to the sub-editor with the dry sense of humour who put these words at the top of a story about Silvio Berlusconi, the Italian prime minister: “Berlusconi is Best Leader in Italy’s History, says Berlusconi.”

The story itself quotes Berlusconi as telling a news conference in Sardinia, where he was hosting talks with Spanish premier José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero: “I sincerely believe I am by far the best prime minister Italy has had in its 150-year history.”  So the headline, if not the sentiment behind it, cannot be faulted for lack of accuracy.

I would like, however, to put forward a different idea and suggest that if anyone in the Italian government deserves praise, it is Giulio Tremonti, Berlusconi’s finance minister.  When the global financial crisis erupted a year ago, the challenge to Italy was daunting in the extreme.  Italy had the highest public debt (well over 100 per cent of gross domestic product) in the European Union, a reputation for occasionally wayward management of its public finances, and a long-term average economic growth rate that was among the lowest in the 27-nation bloc.

Given Italy’s reliance on exports, it was obvious that the crisis was going to strike Italy with especial force, and, sure enough, latest forecasts suggest the economy will contract this year by 4.8 per cent of GDP.  It would have been tempting last year to follow the example of France, Germany and the UK and indulge in some hefty emergency deficit-spending to mitigate the effects of the recession.

Instead, Tremonti saw the risk that such action would spook financial markets and raise Italy’s borrowing costs by increasing the yield on its government bonds.  The interest rate spread between Italian and German 10-year bonds, extraordinarily low in the early years of European monetary union, did indeed shoot up to about 170 basis points last January.  But with the return of calmer markets it now stands at between 70 and 80 basis points.  Tremonti has striven to be the soul of prudence, and traders have reacted accordingly.

For sure, Italy’s budget deficit is forecast to be 5.3 per cent of GDP this year and 5 per cent in 2010.  But these are relatively modest deficits in comparison with countries such as Ireland, Spain and the UK.  Tremonti is sticking to a cautious three-year plan, drawn up at the start of the crisis, which tries to take the politics out of Italy’s annual budget deliberations by taking no risks with either expenditure or taxes.

You can criticise some aspects of the Italian government’s economic policies - the latest tax amnesty being one example.  But the financial crisis dealt Tremonti a truly difficult hand to play, and he has played it well.

The composition of the newly elected European Parliament, which holds its first session next week, will make many Britons hang their heads in shame.  For British politicians are either poorly represented, or not represented at all, in the 736-seat assembly’s three biggest political groups: the centre-right, centre and centre-left.  By contrast, Brits dominate the Eurosceptic and far-right fringes.

The loss of British influence in the parliament, which has a say in most European Union laws, will be substantial.  The likely damage to Britain’s reputation in Europe can only be guessed at.

We’re already getting a taste of what may happen in practice.  In a BBC interview, Nick Griffin, leader of the extreme-right British National Party and newly elected MEP for north-western England, discusses how the EU should handle the problem of illegal migrants travelling across the Mediterranean from north Africa to Italy.  “I say boats should be sunk, they can throw them a life raft, and they can go back to Libya,” he tells his interviewer.  He is not advocating that “anyone should be murdered at sea”, he adds.

The BNP has been unable to form a political group in the European Parliament, with all the perks and influence that go with it, because for that you need at least 25 MEPs from seven countries.  The BNP tried to entice Italy’s Northern League, whose rabble-rousing leader, Umberto Bossi, refers to immigrants as “bingo bongos”.  But the League preferred the company of the UK Independence Party.

For its part, the UK Independence Party sees itself as part of a seamless anti-EU political trend that starts on the nationalist right, extending to and embracing Britain’s Conservatives - and as everyone in Europe knows, the Tories are likely to win the UK general election due next year.

A few data about the new European Parliament may drive the point home.  The mainstream centre-right European People’s Party is by far the legislature’s largest group, controlling 265 seats.  Not one of them is British.  The centre-left Progessive Alliance of Socialists and Democrats, the second largest group, has 184 seats, of which 13 are British.

The centrist liberals are the third largest and have 84 seats, 11 of them British.  German, Italian and French legislators dominate these three groups as well as the Greens, in whose group the British hold two out of 55 seats.

The core of the 72-strong British representation in the new parliament will be the Tories and the UK Independence Party.  The first is highly critical of the EU, and the second wants to pull the UK out.  They hold 25 and 13 seats respectively, or 53 per cent of the British total.

All in all, Britain appears to be sleepwalking into a serious crisis in its relationship with the rest of the EU.  Does anyone in London know - or care?

From a European Union perspective, it’s somewhat surprising that the extraordinary financial crisis we’ve been living through has not generated more pressure for another big push at EU integration - if not in the political sphere, then at least in the economic one.  According to conventional EU wisdom, it usually takes a crisis to make Europeans understand why closer integration is a good thing.  But on this occasion, it’s not happening - or at least, not yet.

For the perfect explanation as to why this should be so, I recommend an article by Otmar Issing, the European Central Bank’s former chief economist, in the latest issue of the journal Europe’s World.  Issing’s article discusses the merits of issuing common bonds for the 16-nation eurozone - an initiative that would, in theory, mark a major step forward in European integration - and comes down firmly against the proposal.

Why?  The idea appeals to Dominique Strauss-Kahn, managing director of the International Monetary Fund, Joaquín Almunia, the EU’s monetary affairs commissioner, Giulio Tremonti, Italy’s finance minister, and many others.  Supporters of a common eurozone bond contend, in essence, that there is strength in numbers and (a more slippery point) that European solidarity is a noble cause.

They say financial markets would show respect for bonds collectively guaranteed by Germany, France and 14 other countries.  A common bond would put paid to the “unfair” practice by which markets have forced countries such as Greece, Ireland, Italy and Portugal to pay substantially higher interest rates on their government bonds, relative to Germany, during the financial crisis.  Europe would stand as one.

Here is Issing’s stony response: “A common eurozone bond would certainly imply that countries like France and Germany would have to pay higher interest rates, and that would in the end mean higher tax burdens for their citizens…  Issuing a common bond would be a first step on the slippery road to ‘bail-outs’, and thus the end of the euro area as a zone of stability.” 

With an eye on Greece, Ireland and Italy, he continues: “The immediate trigger and the root cause of rising spreads were financial markets’ growing concerns about the solidity of some eurozone countries.  This loss of credibility has been a consequence of dramatic deteriorations in their current and expected fiscal positions.  But a common bond is no cure for a lack of fiscal discipline; on the contrary, it would tend to encourage countries to continue on their wrong fiscal course.”

In other words, Greeks and Italians in particular should get their houses in order (the Irish are already trying).  German taxpayers have no obligation to shell out for any country that isn’t hard at work consolidating its public finances.  So says Issing, and Germany’s coalition government shares his views - while admitting sotto voce that if a weak eurozone country fell into truly serious difficulties, Germany would have no choice but to come to the rescue.

Issing’s argument is undeniably powerful.  But I ask myself one question.  The public debts of Greece and Italy are set to shoot up over the next few years.  There doesn’t seem much evidence of an effort in either country to tackle the problem with the determination that Issing regards as necessary.  The longer it’s put off, the harder the task will be.  Just how are they to be persuaded to do it?

To follow up on Monday’s blog, in which I suggested it was extremely unlikely that Italian foreign minister Franco Frattini would achieve his ambition of becoming the European Union’s next foreign policy chief, the obvious question is - well, who will get the job?

Three names keep cropping up.  One is Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, a Dutchman who has served as Nato’s secretary-general since 2004 and who is about to be replaced by Anders Fogh Rasmussen, a former Danish prime minister.  The second is Carl Bildt, Sweden’s foreign minister, who is another ex-premier.  The third is Olli Rehn, a Finn who is the EU’s enlargement commissioner.

I should stress that, in contrast to Frattini, none of these three is shamelessly promoting himself for the job, which Spain’s Javier Solana has held since 1999.  In fact, Bildt told a group of Brussels-based reporters visiting Stockholm last week that he didn’t want it.  This was no doubt very sensible.  It is a sad but undeniable fact that Bildt, highly experienced and intellectually brilliant though he may be, has a few too many critics and enemies for his own good.

France and Germany think he is sometimes too outspoken about Russia (after he compared Russia’s actions in Georgia last year to Nazi tactics in the 1930s, what Russia thinks of Bildt must be close to unprintable).  The Greek Cypriot-controlled government of Cyprus doesn’t care for Bildt because of his sympathy towards Turkey’s EU membership bid.  The fact that a Dane is about to get the top Nato job means that there will be less enthusiasm in EU capitals for putting a fellow Scandinavian in the EU’s most prestigious foreign policy post.  All in all, I wouldn’t buy Bildts.

Rehn is less controversial and, for that reason, a credible compromise candidate.  Like Bildt, however, he is from the Nordic area - and other EU countries may think that, with Rasmussen at Nato, that’s enough from that corner of Europe for the moment.  In addition, five years as EU enlargement commissioner may not look quite convincing enough on his CV.  My heart says “Buy Rehns” but my head says “Don’t”.

Then there is De Hoop Scheffer.  He has done a competent job at Nato, but it is murmured in Brussels that he lacks the ideas and imagination needed to make a success of the EU’s common foreign policy - often more common on paper than it is in reality.  On the other hand, the EU’s larger countries - France, Germany and the UK - would surely prefer someone who doesn’t cause them trouble.  Let’s put it this way: I’m not buying De Hoop Scheffers today, but I may dip in my wallet later.

There are two ways of looking at the imminent appointment of Jerzy Buzek, a former Polish prime minister, as the next president of the European Parliament.  The first way is to applaud Europe’s politicians for doing the right thing and giving one of the European Union’s top jobs to a man from one of the 10 former communist countries in central and eastern Europe that joined the EU in 2004-2007.  This is the highest honour yet accorded to a public figure from one of the EU’s new member-states.  Poles are justifiably proud.

The second way, however, is to be honest and recognise that the job of parliament president is about the lowest-ranking position someone could be given without its looking like an insult.  Buzek, who belongs to the legislature’s main centre-right group, won’t even hold the job for the assembly’s full five-year term: under a deal with the socialists, he will step down after two and a half years and hand over the reins to a socialist.  The fact is that, by giving this post to Buzek, older and bigger member-states in western Europe are making sure that they will get all the really big jobs when they come up for grabs later this year.

These are the European Commission presidency (already earmarked for Portugal’s José Manuel Barroso, though his reappointment to a second term is running into a few embarrassing difficulties); other top Commission portfolios, such as those covering competition, the internal market and trade; the job of EU foreign policy high representative (shortly to be vacated by Spain’s Javier Solana); and the full-time presidency of the European Council, which represents national governments.  The latter job will be created only if the EU’s Lisbon treaty is ratified by all member-states.  But assuming that it comes into existence, I will eat mon chapeau if it doesn’t go to a western European.

There is an interesting side story to all this.  Buzek’s appointment became a certainty after Silvio Berlusconi, Italy’s prime minister, withdrew his candidate, Mario Mauro.  Naturally, Italy wants compensation.  Berlusconi would probably be interested in one of the big Commission jobs for Italy, but Franco Frattini, his foreign minister, has other ideas.  He would like to replace Solana as EU foreign policy chief.

The reaction in certain other EU member-states to Frattini’s ambitions is, to put it mildly, one of incredulity.  No one has forgotten Frattini’s most recent diplomatic coup - a planned visit to Iran in May that went spectacularly wrong.  Frattini had to cancel his trip at the last minute when President Mahmoud Ahmadi-Nejad insisted on meeting him in a city where the Iranians had just announced the successful launch of a medium-range missile capable of hitting Israel.  The visit would in any case have broken the EU’s policy of avoiding high-level contacts with Iran because of its nuclear programme.

So, it’s yes to Buzek - but no, grazie to Frattini.

It seems light years ago now, but I once had a delightful Swedish friend whose father, reflecting on his distinguished career in public service, told her that the proudest moment of his life was when Sweden switched from driving on the left side of the road to the right and there were no serious traffic accidents.

That was in 1967, and there’s no denying it - it’s damned impressive.  Imagine if they tried to introduce a change like that today in Britain, or in other countries that still drive on the left such as India, Japan, Pakistan or South Africa.  It would make the chaos on the opening day of Heathrow airport’s Terminal 5 look like a spot of trouble with the signalling on a model train set.

Walking around Stockholm in the extraordinarily warm weather that the Swedish capital is enjoying at the moment, I can see why a Swede would take such pleasure in his nation’s expertise in redirecting traffic flows.  The city functions so smoothly that it’s a matter of personal honour to help keep it that way.  Anything out of the ordinary, like a car going the wrong way up a street, would seem utterly subversive of the social order.

But you know, Europe’s diversity is something to celebrate.  I once had lunch in Rome with the chief executive of one of Italy’s leading state-owned companies.  He offered to give me a ride back to my office through the centro storico in his chauffeur-driven car.  The chauffeur decided to take a short cut and drove the wrong way up a one-way street.  At the end of the street were some concrete pillars blocking his way.  Before he could reverse the car, some delivery vans parked behind him.  He was totally and utterly stuck, and no one had the slightest intention of extracting him from his predicament.

Now, tell me, would that happen in Sweden?

Jan Fischer, the unassuming non-party technocrat who is holding the fort as Czech prime minister for the next few months, is getting his 15 minutes of fame on the world stage - but it’s certainly not going to his head.  He was sitting in his Prague office today telling me about his preparations for next week’s European Union summit in Brussels - an event he will chair - and somehow his background as a humble statistician kept colouring the conversation.

For example, when I asked him whether most EU heads of government supported a legally binding decision to nominate José Manuel Barroso at the summit for a second term as European Commission president, he replied that it was “50-50 … as regards the sample of people I’ve had a chance to speak to”.

Since there are 27 national leaders in the EU, I did some sums and cautiously suggested that this meant he must have spoken to an even number of leaders, rather than an odd number - unless (I silently mused) the UK’s Gordon Brown or Ireland’s Brian Cowen had broken in two as a result of their recent domestic electoral disasters.

Sure enough, Fischer confirmed that he had so far spoken to six leaders around Europe.  But what about that other burning question that surrounds contemporary Czech leaders?

Fischer, a former head of the Czech national statistics office, replaced Mirek Topolanek as premier - and it was only last week that Topolanek disclosed that he was one of the guests pictured in a state of extreme undress, though not distress, at the luxurious Sardinian villa of Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi.

So has Fischer ever been to Sardinia?   And if not, what, statistically speaking, are the chances that he may go in the near future?  Alas, the interview was over before I could pop the question.