The Tyrolean troubleshooter

Date: 25/04/1996

FRANZ Fischler is one of that rare breed of politicians who actually possesses an in-depth knowledge of the policy he controls.

The grandson of a farmer from Austria's Tyrol region, he has farming in his blood, has a doctorate in the subject and got his hands on what is arguably Europe's top agricultural job at the tender age of 48.

An imposing character, few forget the burly Agriculture Commissioner once they have met him. But it has taken the recent furore over mad cow disease to make him a well-known figure all over Europe.

Looking every bit the bon vivant, Fischler is a perfect advertisement for the products his farming constituents grow.

Bearing political responsibility for virtually half of the EU's annual 85-billion-ecu budget, Fischler has had to tackle an impressive array of thorny problems since becoming Austria's first European Commissioner.

His ability to spot a potential compromise brought him widespread praise - until the BSE crisis cast doubt, for the first time, on his political acumen.

But in the cool light of day, officials deny that Fischler's apparently over-hasty announcement of a world-wide ban on British beef was an error of judgement.

“The thing got blown out of proportion in the frenzied atmosphere,” said one.

They point to the fact that the UK government's decision to inform the Commission of new scientific research suggesting a possible link between BSE and the human illness Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease just 30 minutes before announcing it in the British parliament gave Fischler little time to prepare, necessitating a rapid piece of damage limitation.

The Commissioner's distaste for the way London handled the crisis is perhaps Brussels' worst-kept secret.

Likewise, Fischler's advisers are quick to defend his much-publicised comments that he would not hesitate to eat British beef. “People have to understand that this goes beyond pure health concerns. Fischler is also responsible for the well-being of the EU beef market,” said one.

But others express surprise that his normally astute political judgement appeared to have temporarily deserted him. “I might have expected that sort of remark from him at two in the morning over a glass of wine, but I was very surprised that he said something like that in a formal interview situation,” commented an experienced Austria-watcher.

Before BSE came along to darken his days, Fischler had an impressive record for sorting out long-running and seemingly intractable problems. In one fell swoop, the June 1995 Agriculture Council agreed on new agrimonetary rules, farm prices for 1995-1996 and a compromise on animal transport.

How much credit Fischler himself deserves for this depends on whom you ask. There is no doubt, however, that he is a master at presenting himself as the architect of such successes.

One member state official is unreserved in her praise for Fischler's political skill. “He's very streetwise, and good at judging what will run in Council. He learned very quickly to judge how the wind is blowing,” she comments.

More cynical observers believe his main skill is in selling himself to a hungry media pack. “He's ingenious because when things get tough, he pushes them away from himself and lets others take the rap,” says a sceptic who has followed his career closely.

Friends talk of his dry and slightly cynical sense of humour, and his remarkably laid-back attitude given the gravity of the tasks he faces. But others claim it is hard to get truly close to him and accuse him of being nice to people only for as long as he feels he needs them.

The man who has had the greatest single influence on Fischler's career is former Austrian Chancellor Bruno Kreisky, who led Austria for 13 years until 1983. Although the two men came from opposite sides of the political divide, Fischler admits quite openly that he learned much from Kreisky about political strategy.

Fischler is generally regarded as having an excellent nose for policy and is ever anxious to push things along when agriculture ministers, in time-honoured fashion, threaten to drag discussions out interminably.

Having spent his whole political life specialising in agriculture, Fischler is not afraid to demand one-on-one negotiations with ministers. This is an experience enjoyed less by the ministers themselves, most of whom rely heavily on their advisers for policy detail - although those who know Fischler well suspect he is not as tough as he would like people to believe.

But there is no doubt that his technical knowledge allowed Fischler to sail through his hearing at the European Parliament before taking office.

A senior official also recalls how Fischler's brief technical explanation to the Commission college persuaded a fellow Commissioner that it was probably not worth his while continuing to fight a Fischler proposal on behalf of the farmers in his native country.

Besides his considerable technical knowledge, Fischler also receives praise for the speed at which he has developed his English to the point where he is able to handle hostile press interviews and even highly- technical meetings without interpretation.

But he has come under fire at home for not lobbying hard enough for Austria's farmers.

They cannot help feeling that Fischler has “changed sides” after negotiating Austria's accession deal in the face of a “double-crossing” Commission.

Unlike some Commissioners, Fischler is not known for brazenly representing his home country's interests, whatever the issue. This has led him to be dubbed the “Super-European” at home.

It is probably true that the Austrian permanent representation is not top of his mailing list for internal Commission papers. It is also true that Fischler picked only three Austrians for his team of seven advisers. But his fans claim there are more subtle ways of helping the national cause, pointing out that it is no coincidence that the recent legal dispute with the Commission over anonymous bank accounts did not reach the public domain until well after the last Austrian election.

Nevertheless, the issue brought Austria's man in Brussels into open conflict with Jörg Haider from the extreme right-wing Freedom Party, as well as with Chancellor Franz Vranitzky. Fischler argues that it is his duty as a Commissioner to point out what is, and is not, allowed under EU law.

And even less than enthusiastic Fischler-watchers quietly admit that “he is doing a good job within the limits of what he can do”.

Despite the sensitivity of his dossier, Fischler has also managed to introduce new policy ideas which would previously have raised cries of alarm. One member state official puts this down to a “mischievous streak” in his character and a “willingness to be provocative”. But there is no doubt that the idea of further changes to the Common Agricultural Policy is now firmly on the agenda.

“Partly this is down to vagueness of presentation. But he has got people thinking about it where they weren't before. Where he goes next is the crucial thing. He talks about an integrated rural policy, but doesn't necessarily know what he means,” says one official.

Fischler is also said to be genuinely committed to adding a greater environmental element to EU farm policy. Many anticipate that the recent BSE scare will fuel a debate about intensive farming methods and a commitment from the Commissioner to tighten up regulatory standards.

The EU's highly forceful farming lobby has not yet roused itself in opposition to his ideas, although there have been stirrings of discontent. At a recent agricultural exhibition, Fischler was greeted with placards bearing the legend: “Stalin in the east, Fischler in the west - the great farm destroyers of the century.”

Privately, Fischler is respected for having kept his feet firmly on the ground. He is, for example, said to have recoiled at the idea of turning up in his home village of Absam in his official chauffeur-driven car. “He knows he needs power to achieve what he wants, but doesn't like it for its own sake,” says a colleague.

Public image is also all important for a man tipped by many as a future leader of the People's Party, a possible chancellor, president or leader of the state of Tyrol.

In some member states, the Commission is still regarded as a useful home for out-of-favour politicians. By contrast, Fischler has seen his stock rise since he moved to Brussels.

As Brussels' chief representative of the farming sector, Fischler is certainly not averse to socialising if this means enjoying the best agricultural products the town has to offer. This has led some to suggest that not only his stock, but also his already imposing stature has increased during his first 16 months in the Commission.