Europe's political funnybone
It says something about the Euro-Zeitgeist that the defining moment for the Prodi commission-just four months in-may turn out to be a hostile takeover bid for a vast German engineering conglomerate by an upstart British mobile telephone operator from Newbury in Berkshire. Vodafone's ?80 billion bid for Mannesmann has acted like a sledgehammer on the political funnybones of those who make it their business to define the European "model"-not least the European commission itself.
In Britain, it is widely assumed that the Eurocrats are endlessly planning the undermining of the nation-state; but in fact they have long since moved on. The really crucial debate by those who think beyond their daily chores of managing the sheep meat variable slaughter premium, centres on whether there is a consensual, social-democratic European alternative to Anglo-Saxon capitalism.
The fact that Chancellor Schr?der and his finance minister could both condemn the "predatory" nature of Vodafone's rather generous offer to Mannesmann's shareholders, has shown that the Neue Mitte is as credible as the emperor's new clothes.
More interesting, though, is opinion in the commission. The bid has exposed the San Andreas fault line which divides the dirigistes-the social affairs wonks, cultural tsars and aid distributors-from the champions of market forces in the departments responsible for competition and the information society. It is the latter who now have the upper hand-commission culture is gradually shifting westwards, it seems, although at glacial speed.
Already, the competition commissioner has to grapple with highly political questions such as why France's giant EDF electricity utility should be allowed to take over foreign companies while reserving its home market for itself. Then there is the infinitely delicate matter of the publicly-backed German state banks. Should they be preserved as a vital cog in the social market machine or should the public money be stripped out to ensure fair competition with private sector banks?
Competition policy, it is agreed, should be non-political and based solely on economic criteria. Funny then that Chris Gent, Vodafone's CEO, chose to announce his move to the resident of No 10 Downing Street before the rest of the world. Mario Monti, the competition commissioner, must be hoping the Mannesmann chalice will not have to pass his lips-and that German protectionism foils the bid before it hits his desk.
Too clever for the Trojan?
Try this for a truly Machiavellian one. For some time, a huge neon question-mark has hung over the career of Carlo Trojan-the rubicund Dutchman who is secretary-general of the European commission and hence the institution's top civil servant.
Trojan was widely regarded by his loyal colleagues as the man most responsible for the fiasco that brought his boss, Jacques Santer, to grief and forced the resignation of the entire commission. It was he, after all, who presided over the dubious practices of the previous five years and even masterminded the persecution of the whistleblower who exposed them. What is more, Trojan's successor-former spokesman Claus Van der Pas-is waiting in the wings. So why hasn't he gone yet? The answer is that charming Carlo speaks impeccable Italian and has made himself indispensable to the new boss.
None the less, when it was clear that Hugo Paemen, head of the EU's mission to Washington, was about to retire, many assumed that this would allow Trojan a respectable avenue down which to make a dignified retreat. Consequently, there was amazement and despair when it emerged that Gunter Burghardt, the self-important boss of the Directorate-General for External Relations, was now DC-bound.
And who takes those kind of decisions? Well, Trojan, of course. So had Carlo arranged to shut the door on his own exit route in order to hold on to his current post? Commission cynics say it is a nice idea, but it is not really a runner. "That would have been brilliantly clever," said one, "which means that Trojan couldn't have thought of it."
Keeping Europe closed
Avid followers of this column will be pleased to hear that the row over televising the daily European commission press conferences-reported last month-has been resolved and, for once, without a typically shoddy EU compromise. The row centred on reluctance by the French press to have their information cartel broken by live broadcasts of the midday rendezvous on the obscure Europe By Satellite channel. Endless compromises were offered, including such delightful suggestions as broadcasting half the press conference or turning off the sound for "off-the-record" questioning. The final solution? No broadcasts whatever. Result: Transparency Nil, Media Job Security One.
Neil Kinnock's trivia quiz
Each year around this time there is a trivia quiz for the BBC's Children in Need charity. It is an annual virtuoso performance by commission vice-president Neil Kinnock-a master of ceremonies with the subtlety of a Jim Davidson and the grace of Bruce Forsyth. As the Stella Artois flows, the commissioner for commission reform regales us at ever more boisterous volume with ancient but much loved jokes about the iniquities of the Tories and the funniness of foreigners. Nor is he too proud to tease his own commission colleagues.
Example. Q: "What is the difference between a commissioner and a supermarket trolley?" A: "You can get more food and wine into a commissioner." It all makes for a very jolly, spiritually uplifting evening. A good time is had by all. And as we head home, we warmly thank God that John Major was not the MC for the night, and Kinnock the British prime minister.
