It may not have been pure coincidence. In the week after the euro was launched, the credibility of the European commission was called into question, as never before, by the European parliament. The parliament dared to "refuse discharge" to the commission's 1996 budget. Edith Cresson of France and Manuel Marin of Spain (two of the 20 commissioners) were the main targets, but the vote amounted to an allegation of inefficiency-variously reported as fraud, corruption or simple mishandling-directed at the whole commission. The commission made the error of suspending the official who leaked the relevant documents to the parliament-Paul van Buitenen-which infuriated the parliament and served only to further the frenzy in the press pit in the crowded cellars of the commission building.
Rumours and accusations flew in all directions in the irresistible, febrile manner in which they do at such times: the commission was in possession of rifles, it gave money to its cronies... The press then turned to a line of attack well-oiled in Britain but less common in euroland: the relationship of politicians to their property and their wives.
Jacques Santer had come down to meet the press. He looks more dynamic in person than on the screen-fleshier, too. He expressed great pleasure at meeting the press in such a triumphant week (the euro had been born the day before). He dismissed the likelihood of a vote of censure with a combination of brusqueness, haughtiness and irony.
But then a timid correspondent took the microphone and caused the president to come out in a profound pink blush. It was alleged that Santer's wife was improperly renting property to the commission. This was being examined in the courts; what did the president have to say? Santer's mouth slipped ajar. His eyes looked confused. He stammered his surprise at the way this "is becoming very personal." He then provided a precise description of the three properties he owned in Luxembourg-number of rooms, size of garden and so on. His wife, to his knowledge, owned no other properties. He added that he believed he was happily married.
This level of detail did the trick; the press withdrew. However, Santer may have rightly predicted that European politics will get more personal if transparency becomes a reality, as Santer himself assures us that it will. And it would do them much good. What many people mistrust most about Brussels is the perceived greyness of those at the pinnacles of power. If those corridors became more intemperate and colourful, if eurocrats were satirised more, or brought to life as blushing, fallible human beings, they might be better understood and, who knows, even better trusted.
Meanwhile, in another committee room somewhere in Brussels, a discussion about the euro was doing its best to sound satirical. The man from the vending machine sector was explaining that if they only have access to the new money with everyone else, on 1st January 2002, then e-day is going to be a very foul day indeed. There will be pandemonium. Think of it, he said: we are going to have to convert 10m slot machines across the eurozone, and we cannot do this until we have access to the new coins, so that we can weigh them and reset the machines.
But the man from the European Banking Federation insisted that the restrictions on access to euros before e-day should remain in place. If the euro was allowed to circulate before it became legal tender, it would take on a value higher than its designated value.
Another theme was the advocacy of dual pricing in the period during which the euro and national currencies will be allowed to circulate jointly. Retailers must be persuaded to start as soon as possible, to educate the public about conversion rates. Education, education, education, they droned, or we will be facing pandemonium. Money is a language which is learnt gradually.
Then a Dutch MEP said dual pricing would be confusing. What was needed was a big bang on e-day. Otherwise people would be paying in guilders and receiving change in euros. Imagine the queues. Think of the anger as people fumble with their calculators. The best way of sinking dual circulation would be to commission a play which would enact scenes from a supermarket to show the eurocrats how explosive the situation could become.
Most countries think that two to six months of dual circulation will be fine and dandy. And the commission has set up pilot schemes to monitor how "sensitive population groups" (the blind, old, mentally ill) will cope. It has also commissioned research from a group of psychologists to consider how people will react to such a shift in their daily habits. The preliminary, unhelpful conclusion from the research is that there is a vast degree of ignorance about the euro, and it is not clear what can be done about it. A commission spokesman said that the findings were "unscientific and disappointing."
