The parable of the plug

THE BRITISH plug is a marvel of design. Its insulated prongs make electric shocks nigh on impossible, even if it is hanging out of the socket. Shutters cover the live holes on the socket until the earth is engaged, meaning even the most adventurous toddlers struggle to electrocute themselves. Yank out the cable and the live wires will disconnect before the earth, further reducing the chance of anyone being fried. It is probably the safest plug on the planet (unless trodden on). Yet apart from Britain and a few countries that lived under its imperial rule, the Great British plug is spurned for flimsy, sometimes dangerous two-prong affairs.

As sales of British plug adaptors suggest, it takes more than good design for standards to be adopted globally. For such influence, an alchemy of regulatory clout and market power that Britain simply does not possess is required. But it is a blend that the EU has learned to master. Everything from timber production in Indonesia to internet privacy in Latin America is now settled by a bunch of bureaucrats, diplomats, MEPs and lobbyists in the middle of Belgium. This has been dubbed the “Brussels effect” by Anu Bradford of Columbia Law School, in a new book of the same title, which explains how the EU quietly has become a regulatory superpower.