Fond memories of a ‘founding father’

Date: 05/09/1996

By Mark Turner

EUROPE lost an institution on 24 August.

Emile Noel, once described by European Commission President Jacques Santer as “the memory of the Community”, died in Tuscany, Italy, at the age of 83.

As the Commission's first secretary-general, Noel's tenure spanned the period from the implementation of the Treaty of Rome (1958) to beyond the accession of Spain and Portugal (1987).

To all who knew him, Noel was a fiercely professional man, absolutely dedicated to his job. Lifelong colleague Max Kohnstamm remembers: “He was like a monk from the Middle Ages, with a total devotion to a cause. He had one object in mind: European integration, or, as Jean Monnet described it, 'Yesterday force, today law'.”

Noel will be remembered as one of the true founding fathers of Europe.

Viscount Etienne Davignon, a Belgian Commissioner from 1977-1984, recalls: “On the professional level, Emile was the architect of the European civil service ... he was in charge of the administrative structure, which he had to build from zero. He was convinced it had to rival the best of the member states' services.”

Former colleagues describe him as a man with a scrupulously fair approach to his work. “You never felt there was any Mr X he liked more than another; he had total integrity,” says Kohnstamm.

Yet his even-handedness and fail-safe memory did not always win him allies, although his anger was usually reserved for professional incompetence. “He did not suffer fools gladly, especially people who were irrational and over-emotional,” says Kohnstamm. “He respected emotions, but not if they got in the way of judgement.”

Noel's own unflappability was legendary. As Davignon explains: “Having known him for more years than I care to remember, I have never seen him ruffled. He was the most unexcitable individual.”

He was also extremely self-effacing, as well as possessing a dry sense of humour. During his final years as the head of the European University Institute in Florence, a close colleague, British economist Stuart Holland, once asked him if he intended to write his memoirs. “He answered 'I might',” said Holland, “to which I replied 'You must. You've known everyone.' 'I have followed some important people into rooms,' replied Noel.”

He never did write his memoirs, perhaps because of his fundamental shyness.

“He hid himself behind his work,” says Kohnstamm. “I knew him for 40 years and never met his wife. I remember once calling his office to make a meeting, and was told he could see me at ten o'clock. I said 'OK', then realised I had forgotten to ask: in the evening or in the morning? You never knew with him.”