Günther Verheugen, the German industry commissioner, has always had a talent for creating headlines. Unfortunately they often seem to be of the wrong type. In his last job as enlargement commissioner, Verheugen once caused a mini-crisis by suggesting referendums in the existing member states before any new ones could join. He survived that hiccup and stayed in Brussels for a second term, as commission vice-president in the industry post. Talented and entertaining, Verheugen is one of this commission's few heavyweights but he remains an unguided missile.
This was made clear in his recent interview with the Süddeutsche Zeitung, in which he railed against the power of officials in Brussels who, he said, were trying to stitch up decisions among themselves. In the commission, Verheugen said, too much is decided by senior Eurocrats and there is a "continuous power struggle between commissioners and top officials." On his own initiative to cut red tape, the vice-president accused the bureaucrats of dragging their feet.
Some believe the commissioner's outburst is a symptom of a personal malaise prompted by reports in the German press on his relationship with his head of cabinet, Petra Erler. These surfaced after a Lithuanian newspaper reported that the two had holidayed together in their country. The paper mistakenly assumed Erler was Verheugen's wife.
But the more likely explanation is exasperation. A former German minister for Europe, then the man who masterminded the last EU enlargement, Verheugen was always an unlikely industry commissioner. But when jobs were given out in 2004, Berlin insisted on an economic portfolio. Verheugen's big idea is to axe EU laws that place unnecessary burdens on European business, the so-called "bonfire of the regulations," but the project is going slowly.
For months he has been complaining off the record to journalists about the attitude of officials in Brussels, blaming them for the lack of progress. Now he has simply—if unwisely—said what he believes in public. The truth is that after being at the centre of the action when working on enlargement in the last commission, Verheugen now finds himself a rather marginal figure. As for the future, he seems to see himself as a potential successor to the EU's foreign policy chief, Javier Solana. Unfortunately, Solana shows no signs of shifting.
The vanishing allies of Barroso
One of the few advantages that the European commission president enjoys over EU prime ministers is not having to face the continent's vengeful voters. Europe is culling its longest-serving leaders, the latest victims being Wolfgang Schüssel, the Austrian chancellor who was in office for seven years, and Göran Persson, who got the boot from the Swedish electorate after a decade in power. Britain and France will have new leaders next year, and even Ireland's "Teflon Taoiseach," Bertie Ahern, may be out on his ear next year after admitting taking loans from businessmen, some of whom later won jobs on government quangos.
With 25, and soon 27, EU member states, the electoral cycle is constantly in motion, which is one of the reasons policymaking is proving difficult in an expanded EU. It also means that, halfway into his five-year term, José Manuel Barroso, the commission president, is looking for new allies: the hard core of those who backed him to get his job in 2004 have either got the chop or are on the way out. Among those who will not be there for him next time around are Silvio Berlusconi, Blair, Schüssel, José María Aznar and possibly Ahern. Barroso will hardly be sad to see the back of Jacques Chirac next year, but absent friends will be missed.
Worse is the cast list of those who have survived. One long-serving leader still clinging to power is Belgium's Guy Verhofstadt, who was Chirac's candidate for the commission presidency in 2004 until a blackball from Blair delivered it to Barroso. A still more dangerous rival is the EU's longest-serving leader, Jean-Claude Juncker of Luxembourg, who comes from the same centre-right political family as Barroso. He could probably have won the top job in 2004, but ruled himself out because of a promise to voters in Luxembourg that he would remain their leader. It's not a pledge he has so far repeated.
Brussels's great language debates
As of January next year, Ireland's government will exercise its right to have full interpretation and translation into Gaelic Irish in EU meetings. Dublin can do this because Irish has always been a treaty language, since it is official throughout Ireland. The decision has riled Catalan-speakers who, although much more numerous, get an inferior deal because their language has full status in only one part of Spain. But it also seems to have raised the temperature of the entire language debate in Brussels. German has always been an official EU language with full translation rights, but Berlin resents the fact that it is less widely used than English and French. With Germany assuming the EU presidency in January, its ambassador in Brussels, Wilhelm Schönfelder, has held stormy discussions with the secretariat of the council of ministers. No press releases or background material should be issued in English and French if a German version is not available, he demanded at one meeting. If Schönfelder persists in such a stance, it will hardly help the press, German or otherwise. As one official put it: "By the time they have been translated into German, they certainly won't be news."
