EU’s King Solomon warms to role of citizens’ champion

Date: 06/06/1996

PLAYING agony uncle to Europe's 370 million citizens is not an easy task. But Jacob Söderman has taken to it like a Belgian to chocolates.

“I like helping people,” he explains.

It is just as well that Europe's first ombudsman likes his job. After all, it took three long years - and countless votes - for the post enshrined in the Maastricht Treaty to become a reality.

A soft-spoken, bespectacled Finn with a dry sense of humour, Söderman seems ideally suited to the task. With five years' experience as a national ombudsman under his belt, he knows, among other things, how to listen.

“In Finland, I received complaints wherever I went. In the metro or in the supermarket, I would receive at least two or three.”

Getting Europeans to unload their troubles on to his broad shoulders has, however, proved a little trickier - but not tricky enough to ruffle Söderman, a paragon of patience. “It takes time, it takes time,” he stresses.

One year - and a lot of publicity - down the line, three to four complaints are flowing into his office daily. The only problem is that most of them have to be sent straight back.

“People hear about this guy in Strasbourg who can solve problems, but they do not realise that I can only solve certain types of problems,” says Söderman with a sigh.

“For example, I attended a non-governmental conference in Madrid where I explained my mandate and asked those present to respond.

“The first to speak was a lady. She told me about the gypsies in Andalucia and the discrimination which they have to endure,” he says. But although her concerns were well outside his remit, Söderman did his best to help. “When I was young, I was an active supporter of gypsies' rights, so I gave her what advice I could,” he recalls.

“The second was a member of the Western Sahara solidarity movement who told me of his people's troubles. I have visited the Sahara twice, so I said what I could.

“The third was a Moroccan, unhappy with the treatment meted out to illegal workers in Spain. Again I offered some advice. The meeting was a good one and I hope I was helpful. But out of all of the complaints I received, there was not one which fell within my mandate.”

That mandate is “to receive complaints concerning instances of maladministration” in the EU's institutions. In other words, Söderman's job is to investigate allegations of corruption, bungling or incompetence by Union officials.

The post he now holds was created to bridge the widening gap between the EU's citizens and its institutions, and to counter bad publicity about 'Fortress Europe'.

The first complaint addressed to the European ombudsman was lodged on 8 April 1994. By 31 March 1996, 537 complaints had been received. But almost 80&percent; of those processed by Christmas 1995 were found to be inadmissible.

The largest number of complaints landing on Söderman's desk come from UK citizens, with the Germans and Spaniards coming a close second and third respectively. Luxembourgers complain the least.

So far, admissible complaints have fallen into three broad categories - those relating to the failure of institutions to pay on time, those concerning the interminable quest for EU documents and those about hiring and firing procedures.

One complainant, for example, claimed that she was unfairly dismissed from the European Parliament for refusing to sign inaccurate minutes of a meeting.

Her claim was judged to be unfounded.

Another alleged that the Commission had pulled out of a planned conference at the last minute, causing financial damage to the company hired to organise the event. Söderman upheld the complaint and the Commission paid compensation to the firm.

Had the Commission refused to make amends, however, there was little that Söderman could have done. For although he has wide powers of inquiry, the European ombudsman has few legal powers. Unlike most national ombudsmen, he does not have the right to prosecute and must, to a certain extent, rely on the good will of the European institutions.

Thus far, these weakness have not hindered the Finn - but he sees clashes looming on the horizon.

“At the moment, the institutions are cooperating. But, in the future, I am sure there will be examples of non-cooperation,” he says.

Spain and Denmark - the two member states which first floated the idea of appointing a European ombudsman - had wanted a strongman armed with extensive powers who, among other things, would have been able to protect the constitutional rights of the bloc's citizens.

But the two were forced to accept an emasculated version of their plan for a people's hero after it ran into heated opposition.

National ombudsmen and members of the European Parliament's petitions committee were concerned about the ambitious remit recommended by Madrid and Copenhagen. They feared a 'Ramboesque' ombudsman would trample on their turf and erode much of their role as champions of the citizens.

“They were worried that they would have to report to a European boss,” says Söderman with a chuckle.

In the event, the Finn has shown himself to be a perfect diplomat and has channelled enormous effort into building bridges between his office and its sometime foes.

“The only possibility is cooperation on an equal footing,” he explains. “I have made a practical arrangement with the petitions committee. They send me petitions which deal with maladministration, and I send them complaints for which I do not have a mandate.”

Similarly, the EU ombudsman has opened up lines of communication with his national counterparts. “I think they enjoy the international aspect of many of my complaints,” he says.

But if Söderman is priest-like in his willingness to listen to complaints, he is a demystifier when it comes to running his office.

In keeping with his Scandinavian origins, he shuns the idea of secrets whispered in darkened confessional boxes.

“We have chosen to work in the open so that the citizens can see what we are doing,” he says. “Some ombudsmen work on a solicitor- client basis, but I do not agree with that. I believe in openness and transparency.”

In terms of resources, Söderman has not been blessed. Gazing out of large windows of his modest Strasbourg office, he dreams of setting up a pied-à-terre in Brussels.

“I think we could be much more effective if we had someone based there,” he says, adding diplomatically: “This, of course, is strictly for professional and not regional reasons.”

It may seem a modest request, but its fulfilment is by no means guaranteed. So far, Söderman has had to run his offices on a slim-line budget and a handful of staff.

“People are always afraid of new institutions. They worry that they will grow out of control and that their members will live a luxurious and wasteful life,” he acknowledges.

But he insists this fear is totally unfounded. “I like to work with a couple of efficient people.” All the same, he makes it clear that one more person and a small room in the EU capital would not go amiss.

As for the Union's institutions, the ombudsman is not short on advice. “If the EU had a human rights assistant to deal with discrimination complaints, and if the Union acceded to the human rights convention, things would be better. And if the Commission adopted a code of good administration, and the Council a legally-binding regulation on transparency, there would be fewer complaints,” he observes.

If those recommendations were implemented, then Söderman's workload would be considerably lightened. But that, he says, is unlikely to happen.

In the meantime, citizens can send their whinges, moans and grievances to the following address: European Ombudsman, European Parliament, Palais de l'Europe, Avenue de l'Europe, F-67000 Strasbourg, France.