The cautious Commissioner

Date: 15/02/1996

ONCE upon a time there were two Italian Commissioners. One was a daring woman, the other a quiet man. One was ostentatious, the other reserved. One hit the headlines within weeks. The other did not.

Intelligence, diligence and reserve, after all, do not make high-profile personalities, but they do make excellent scholars. And an excellent scholar Mario Monti most certainly is.

Born in the North Italian town of Varese on 19 March 1943, he started his academic career in 1961 as a student of economics at one of Italy's most renowned colleges, Bocconi University. He returned to the university as a professor in 1971, rising to become its president in 1994.

In the intervening time, Monti held a host of prestigious posts, wrote several ground-breaking books, advised countless Italian governments on monetary policy and notched up an enviable reputation as an economist.

Little wonder then that when the then Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi and his fractious troops set about selecting two representatives for Jacques Santer's new Commission in 1994, Monti emerged as an undisputed choice.

A former stagiaire, Monti seized the opportunity to return to Brussels and make his mark. The decision baffled journalists and colleagues alike. Why, they asked, would he refuse to run for Italy's top job (prime minister), only to accept a position months later in an institution renowned for its bureaucracy and opacity?

“To ensure that no one asks that question again,” replied Monti, to the delight of the much-maligned Euro-workers.

Few, in fact, were more delighted than Monti's new boss, Jacques Santer, who called Berlusconi to congratulate him on his superior taste in Commissioners. Wit, charm and looks, Monti had it all, Santer told the media magnate. “He does not even look like an Italian,” added the president, scoring a sensational no points for diplomacy and full marks for ruffling Berlusconi's feathers.

It was an auspicious start for the new Commissioner, but one which did not last long.

First, the professor went in search of his stagiaire lodgings, suitably located, he remembered, within a stone's throw of the Berlayment.

But, to his dismay, the house had been raised to the ground. In its place was a sprawling pink building with a Latin name which was about to become home to the EU's Council of Ministers.

Thus it was that Monti, his wife and two children moved in with fellow Commissioner Marcelino Oreja near the Etangs d'Ixelles.

On the professional front, hopes were also dashed.

With years of monetary experience under his belt, Monti felt sure he was the man for the EMU post.

His tardy arrival in Brussels, however, put paid to that ambition and Yves-Thibault de Silguy got the job. Never mind, thought Monti, putting the finishing touches to the single market will be an equally rewarding task.

But that too is proving much easier said than done. One year on and, despite the bravest of efforts, border controls remain in force and Europe's single currency clouded in uncertainty, prompting warnings that the internal market itself may be in jeopardy.

Cautious by nature and fastidious by training, Monti is certainly no Emma Bonino. Within a week of arriving in Brussels, Italy's second Commissioner found herself in the middle of a vicious fish war with Canada - and loved it.

Monti, on the other hand, “hid himself in a dark place and began to study the internal market”, according to a colleague.

But he was not to remain in the shadows for long. For all his discretion, Monti hit the headlines with an even bigger bang at the end of last year, following his decision to sack Peter Wilmott, the Commission's director-general for indirect taxation. Wilmott, the professor said, had not done his homework.

The dismissal prompted accusations that Monti, an economist by training, had proved himself to be out of his depth in the world of EU politics.

This is the accusation most often hurled at the academic-turned-politician. Many see Monti as a clever and charming man who would have done better had he kept his nose firmly planted in his books.

In the cut-throat world of politics, nice men do not score points, they say. And neither do quiet ones.

One of the first messages conveyed to the staff of DGXV (single market) was that their new political master did not like to upset the status quo. Unwelcome as this message was for some, it contained more than a grain of truth. Passive, courteous and civil, this man turned out to be “exceedingly deferential”, in the words of one official.

The second thing which they learned was that he did things by the book. This too was unwelcome news for those who felt that politicians needed to be capable of making split-second decisions.

While cautiousness and deference served Monti-the-academic well, they have proved to be a handicap to Monti-the-politician.

The consensus among his staff is that during negotiations with ministers and MEPs, he is not quick off the mark. “He is very uneasy in the role of a politician who has to wing it to get what he wants,” explained one colleague.

When presented with an unanticipated question for which he has no brief, he flounders, leaving it to his staff to play out the political role, they say.

“Monti will not make a decision on less than full information and that means that ministers, who move quickly, often get off lightly because he has not been firm,” said one.

Such caution is evident in Monti's approach to tax. Given the sensitivity of the issue, the harmonisation of Value Added Tax rates was never going to be an easy task. But many are frustrated by the professor's approach - testing the waters with a policy paper, followed by a debate, before drafting any laws - which they say is far too guarded.

A proposal for a definitive regime was due out at the beginning of this year but, in fact, no concrete legislation is likely to emerge before the end of 1996.

But Monti's record is by no means all bad, and his defenders insist that those qualities which have so far provoked criticism will bring praise in the future.

They say his proposals, though slow to arrive, will prove to have been worth the wait.

And they insist that underneath the charming mask lurks a man of steel with a singular Euro-vision.

“He believes in something which is not very popular in Brussels - rationality. He is not in search of a quick fix. He wants to do the right thing at the right time, guided by reason and not passion or interest,” said one official.

A dedicated follower of Adam Smith, Monti showed himself a man to be reckoned with, when last year he calmly but firmly shot down plans to limit the free movement of capital after the collapse of Barings.

He has been equally tough on law-breakers, issuing twice as many warnings as his predecessor did and taking three times as many governments to court for failing to comply with single market rules.

Less glamorous still, but equally important, he has waged a merciless war on non-tariff trade barriers.

His admirers, of whom there are many, see his sacking of Wilmott less as a sign of weakness than as a show of strength.

Monti may be slow to act but, as they say, only fools rush in.

By the way, have you heard the one about the two Italian Commissioners who, on their way to Fiumicino, met a man asking for passports. One was struck with a wicked thought. “Why not refuse to hand in our passports, get arrested and get rid of borders once and for all,” she suggested.

Not one for sensations, the second politely declined but, anxious not to offend, added that should he ever change his mind he would, of course, let her know.