It was inevitable that the panel investigating the BBC's coverage of the EU would fail to give the corporation a clean bill of health. But since the investigating team was evenly divided between Europhiles and sceptics, they were also never going to agree about exactly what the BBC is doing wrong. So instead they accused the BBC of unspecified "unintentional bias" and complained that its coverage is too thin and failed to reflect the importance of the EU to British life. Fair enough—perhaps. Your correspondent shares a corridor with the BBC Brussels bureau, and I am always finding their journalists lugging equipment towards the lifts, as they head for the airport in a desperate effort to get to somewhere more newsworthy. The correspondents, however, are simply reflecting the editorial priorities set at home—which, in turn, reflect their editors' perception of what is "interesting." Thus when the BBC Brussels bureau got an exclusive interview with José Barroso on the day that he was appointed president of the commission, they were dismayed to find that the ten o'clock news did not run a word of it. In theory, Brussels is meant to be right up there in importance with the Westminster and White House beats. But it is unimaginable that the BBC would fail to run an exclusive interview with Blair or Bush. So when the BBC's EU correspondents discover that people who are big in Brussels are of zero interest at home, they naturally enough decide that they have to get out of town if they are ever to get on air. In the aftermath of the recent criticism, it looked briefly as if things might change. The BBC made an effort to take Barroso's relaunch of the Lisbon process seriously, and commissioned lots of reports from its Brussels bureau. But then the Pope took a turn for the worse, and the entire office was instructed to decamp to Rome.
The boring Portuguese takeover
It must be admitted, however, that Barroso is a fairly dull dog. While Romano Prodi kept everyone entertained with a constant stream of ill-advised philosophical ramblings, Barroso is tightly disciplined, rarely strays off message and has a politician's ability to dance away from difficult questions. His arrival in Brussels, however, has placed a premium on being Portuguese. Many commissioners have taken the precaution of appointing a Portuguese official to their personal cabinets, to make sure that lines of communication are kept open to the boss and his staff. An analysis of cabinet appointments carried out by the weekly newspaper European Voice showed that the three top nationalities were, in order, British, French and Portuguese. Native English and French speakers are in demand because of their mastery of the working languages of the commission. As for the Portuguese, the commissioners will have noticed that their boss has surrounded himself with fellow countrymen. In this Barroso is simply following a well-established tradition. Those great Europeans, Romano Prodi and Jacques Delors, also chose fellow countrymen as their most important aides. Even in the EU, it seems, you can never really trust foreigners.
Who hates whom in the commission
The new commission of 25 is already entertainingly riven by strife. Despite his well-known capacity for making enemies, Peter Mandelson seems to be largely above the fray for the moment. The big clashes surround Günter Verheugen, who has been made vice-president for enterprise and industry. This was always going to cause conflict, since it is such an ill-defined role. Verheugen has taken it as an invitation to stray into the portfolios of other key commissioners—in particular, Neelie Kroes, the competition commissioner. The two have been squabbling openly, and their staff have been spreading poison about each other with an energy that must remind Mandelson of the good old days of Blair vs Brown. The fact that Verheugen is German and Kroes is Dutch does not help. The German commissioner has also swiftly made an enemy of Margot Wallström, his fellow vice-president from Sweden. In her previous job as environment commissioner, Wallström was the key sponsor of new EU regulations on the chemicals industry, which Verheugen is making it his business to dismantle. But if Neelie and Margot hate Günter, Günter is hopping mad with Olli—that is Olli Rehn, the Finn who has taken over the enlargement portfolio that Verheugen used to have. Rehn has moved swiftly to distance himself from his predecessor by taking a much tougher line with Croatia. Verheugen had always encouraged the Croatians to believe that they could aspire to join the EU quite quickly—perhaps by 2007. He had taken the Croats at their word, when they insist that they are doing all they can to find Ante Gotovina, a fugitive general who is wanted in the Hague for alleged war crimes. Rehn has taken a much tougher line. At the end of January he announced that he thought the Croats were still sheltering Gotovina, putting the kibosh on their hopes for an early start to membership talks. Verheugen was aghast—arguing that Brussels's decision will stoke Croatian nationalism and undermine pro-European democrats. His aides say that weeping Croatian politicians were swiftly on the phone to their old pal, Günter. But sadly for the Croats, enlargement is no longer his department. Now if they want something done about the chemicals or the car parts directive...
