Guardian of the farming purse

Date: 22/02/1996

GUY Legras is a small man, but he carries a very large wallet.

As one American journalist so succinctly put it as the diminutive boss of the agriculture directorate-general passed him in the street: “There goes 50 billion bucks!” It has now been a decade since Legras arrived in Brussels to take control of the massive EU farm budget, which last year rose above the magic figure of 40 billion ecu.

Control is undoubtedly the right word. Those who have worked with Legras claim that he reads every single piece of paper which enters the hallowed walls of DGVI.

“He has an incredible mind, even the most minute things catch his attention,” said one awe-struck agriculture official. “What information isn't already in his head, he can find amongst his files in a matter of seconds,” adds another.

But despite the influence he wields, Legras' small stature has generally allowed him to avoid the attention of journalists hungry for a quote.

Officials of considerably less significance are often cornered in the early hours of the morning while Legras, puffing happily at his pipe and dragging his briefcase behind him, slips away into the Brussels night air.

The first charge levelled at Legras by his detractors is that he is a Frenchman first and a European second.

His particular passion is cereals and officials are said to gather every week in his office to discuss what can and cannot be agreed at the weekly 'management committee' on Thursday. Less charitable observers suggest his concern stems mainly from the interest France has in world grain markets.

Legras' thinking on the reform of European agriculture is rumoured to have been formulated over a map of France. However, one supporter insists: “This may seem worrying, but it's not that daft really. The conditions in the different areas of France largely reflect the full range of European agriculture.”

But one former senior US official who has spent many an hour locked in delicate negotiations with Legras is in no doubt about his honesty. “He's definitely French, but a man of enormous integrity.”

Another official commented: “You might expect a Frenchman to be dogmatic, but Legras isn't someone who plays things by the book. He's a great pragmatist and capable of turning his opinions around, if that's what it takes to achieve the required goal.”

This pragmatism has made it easier for Legras to react to changes in style and policy direction, and praise for the man's negotiating skills is universal - even from those who have not always seen eye-to-eye with him.

This was perhaps best illustrated during the tortuous discussions on the farming chapter of the last GATT world trade accord, when French intransigence threatened to unravel years of negotiation. Others may have won the public plaudits for eventually pulling off a deal, but according to one third country diplomat, Legras' role was crucial. “His good faith efforts made it possible to conclude the Uruguay Round. Without him, it wouldn't have happened,” he said.

Throughout the talks, Legras remained in regular contact with Yves-Thibault de Silguy, then European policy adviser to French Prime Minister Edouard Balladur.

Contrary to the commonly held view, the atmosphere in the GATT agriculture negotiations was not always one of tension and mutual distrust. Press reports that the talks had broken up in acrimony were quickly assuaged when the leading US negotiator Joe O'Mara was found sharing a pot of camomile tea with Legras. The two would often joke about writing a book together about the GATT.

When relations between Commissioners reached breaking point following the temporary resignation of Agriculture Commissioner Ray MacSharry as a GATT negotiator, it is generally accepted that Legras kept things going almost single-handedly.

In spite of the supposed animosity between the US and France on trade policy, Legras is said to consider Washington's likely response before any decisions are taken. “He really believes that Europe needs to move towards free trade,” said one US official.

Although he has ultimate responsibility for a sum of money most would consider anything but a laughing matter, Legras is also credited with having a lively sense of humour. “I was terrified when I first had to meet him,” says one lobbyist, “but he was absolutely charming, cracking jokes and laughing. I really couldn't believe it.”

That sense of humour came in handy during talks with two senior US officials. As the meeting dragged on, Legras quietly took off his shoes, much to the amusement of those present. Seizing their advantage, the American officials managed to slip them away and hide them, causing Legras a certain amount of embarrassment when the session drew to a close.

His shoes are evidently a central part of his negotiating technique. “You can always tell when things get tense in the Council of Ministers. He always takes his shoes off and sways from foot to foot,” said an agriculture official used to watching Legras in action.

“He's not a meeting room man, more of a corridor man,” comments another. But when a meeting room is unavoidable, the number of people in it must be kept to the bare minimum. “He's obsessive about small numbers in meetings.”

While preferring to conduct most of his business in small groups and leave the formulation of future policy to “a huddle of his closest allies”, Legras' supporters within DGVI are impressed by the breadth of his circle of trusted lieutenants. But those less positively disposed towards him see things differently, claiming “he surrounds himself with a group of people who just say what he wants to hear”.

According to one close ally, much of the day's work in DGVI is carried out at “Legras' little court” of senior officials who gather at the DGVI coffee bar at 8.15 every morning. This informal get-together ensures that Legras has an overview of what his officials are thinking.

Of the private Guy Legras, there is little sign. Weekends are still spent in Paris with his family. He comes into work at 7.30am and normally does not leave until late, “on one occasion so late that he had to climb out of the window of the DGVI building”.

Nor is he a social animal. “He's extremely gracious, but it's virtually impossible to get him to do anything socially. I guess he hates social events because he's so used to being approached by people who want something,” is how one former diplomat put it.

Nevertheless, Legras appears to have enjoyed good relations with the various Commissioners he has served under.

A very different man from Ray MacSharry, they nevertheless understood each other well. “Officials like politicians who actually get things done,” says one DGVI stalwart.

According to another, Legras and MacSharry's successor René Steichen “seemed to do most of their communication in meetings through smoke signals from their pipes”.

Officials feared a major crisis when it was discovered that current incumbent Franz Fischler only spoke German. But although Legras found he did not have time to attend the German lessons which had been arranged, “Fischler's English eventually overtook anyone else's attempts at German”, and the two men enjoy a good professional relationship.

Rumours about whether Legras is on the verge of leaving Brussels have now become an annual tradition. The latest speculation is that he is being lined up for the post of French ambassador to Moscow.

But those in the know feel a move is unlikely, not least because France would be unwilling to risk his highly-influential position going to someone of another nationality.

Some suggest Legras is keen on the prestige of an ambassadorship, others think he is simply one of a long list of French officials who are automatically regarded as candidates when such a post is up for grabs.

Apart from anything else, as one colleague comments: “It's hard to imagine who would do his job as well as he does it if he were to leave.”