So farewell to the "ayatollah." François Lamoureux, the most influential commission official over the last 20 years, has been sacked by José Manuel Barroso. While Lamoureux has been ousted as director general of transport and energy, his arch-rival, Irish free-marketeer Catherine Day, has replaced her compatriot David O'Sullivan as secretary general of the commission, the top non-political job. O'Sullivan, another liberal, has switched to the director generalship of trade, and Philip Lowe, a free-market Brit, retains the powerful director generalship of competition. So President Barroso, after one year in the job, has reshuffled his cards—sacking his French spokeswoman in the process (see below)—so that Anglophone economic liberals now hold many of the top jobs.
Lamoureux was the chief disciple of former commission president Jacques Delors among the Brussels bureaucrats. He was a constant advocate of a federal Europe, a closer political and economic union, and more power for the EU institutions. He drafted much of the Single European Act and later became Delors's deputy chef de cabinet, when Pascal Lamy was the chef. One of his tasks was to be an enforcer for Delors, often bullying scared officials into following the wishes of the president.
Leon Brittan, who had responsibility for competition policy in the late 1980s and early 1990s, was the only commissioner who challenged Delors's authority. Lamoureux fought many battles with the Brittan cabinet, which sought to clamp down on illegal state aid and to prevent the commission promoting French interests—which frequently amounted to the same thing. Lamoureux was often locked in combat with two of Brittan's key aides—Catherine Day, the new secretary general, and Jonathan Faull, who is now director general for justice and home affairs.
At the height of his powers, in 1991, Lamoureux left Delors to become deputy chef de cabinet of Edith Cresson, France's first (and only) woman prime minister. She proved a disastrous prime minister—and later on, an even more disastrous commissioner (the employment of her "dentist" on the commission payroll led to the resignation of the entire Santer commission in 1999). Lamoureux returned to Brussels as an official, working in the legal service before rising to the top of the director generalship of transport and energy.
Many Brits, and many free-marketeers, will rejoice at the demise of Lamoureux who has been offered a non-job as adviser "at the disposal of the president who will determine a specific work assignment." Lamoureux was no fan of Barroso. In fact he was heard to deplore the president's alleged lack of vision and his supposedly prosaic, bean-counting view of the commission's tasks. By contrast, Lamoureux is one of the last in a long line of Frenchmen who have been public servants but with a political agenda. That line began with Jean Monnet, and includes Jacques Delors and Pascal Lamy.
Press people on the move
And in yet another blow to French prestige, Barroso has sacked his chief spokeswoman Françoise Le Bail (who becomes deputy director general for enterprise) and replaced her with the German Johannes Laitenberger. Selling the EU to the press has never been the smoothest path to career success and there has been a flurry of job moves in the past few weeks. Mandelson, who knows a thing or two about spin, has also axed his spokeswoman, replacing her with a member of his cabinet, Peter Power. And, after just a few months, the budget commissioner, Dalia Grybauskaité, replaced her spokesperson with Polish journalist Robert Soltyk.
Meanwhile, Margot Wallström, commissioner in charge of strategy and communications, appears to have disappeared without trace. Her main contribution appears to be writing her regular weblog.
Manneken Pis gets a new job
Former Brussels correspondents do not often become editors of national dailies, but the FT's long-serving Brussels bureau chief, Lionel Barber (also a former Manneken Pis), has landed the top job at the pink paper. Old Brussels hands recall his arrival in Brussels in the early 1990s, during the glory days of Jacques Delors. Barber had been based in the US and started off with an attitude that Brussels was boring and everything was better in America. He shocked the docile Brussels press corps with his aggressive questioning of commissioners, including Delors. On one occasion, at a press conference just before a meeting of the European council, Barber got into a furious argument with the president. Nobody can remember what it was about, but many recall Barber exclaiming "Come off it, Monsieur Delors, that is ridiculous!" Whenever Delors or some other VIP held an informal briefing with a huddle of journalists, Barber would push to the front—on one occasion provoking the Agence France-Presse correspondent to burst out: "Do that again and I will hit you in the face!" But Barber soon mellowed, and within six months had "gone native." He grew to love the EU story just as much as he had loved the US. Other journalists grew to respect his scoop-hunting abilities, and his contacts. By the time he left Brussels, in 1998, Barber was very much part of the establishment. His farewell party was stuffed with commissioners, ambassadors and directors general.
