THE FRENCH DIVIDE IN EUROPE

DATELINE

Brussels: infighting is symptomatic of weaker French influence, writes Lionel Barber

One of the worst Kept secrets in Brussels is that the two French EU commissioners are barely on speaking terms. Now, before the heavens open with a flood of denials, it must be said that YvesThibault de Silguy and Edith Cresson are among the most gifted, hard-working and charming people in town. They just do not happen to like each other.

De Silguy is the dashing chevalier with a taste of English sports jackets and silken handkerchiefs. Though prone to intellectual bullying, he possesses the high-class mind one would expect from a graduate of the Ecole Nationale d'Administration, the nursery for France's technocratic elite. As for Cresson, her combination of elegance, earthiness and political cunning explains why President Mitterrand succumbed, briefly, to the temptation of making her his prime minister.

Last October, the two rivals appeared the best of friends. De Silguy, a former adviser to Edouard Balladur, the French prime minister, had just received notice that he had won the prized economic and monetary affairs portofolio in the incoming European Commission headed by Jacques Santer. And Cresson was more than happy with her new responsibilities as commissioner for the cashrich research and development budget. Both pledged co-operation before the French press.

Within weeks, the honeymoon was over. Egged on by their staff, the two commissioners engaged in a struggle more suited to the court of Louis XIV. A Cresson aide pledged to "emasculate" de Silguy. In retaliation, he organised a successful campaign to deprive Cresson of one of the two Commission vice-presidencies, largely ceremonial positions subject to a secret ballot of all 20 commissioners.

"It is a little French tragedy", says a mutual friend. "Both these people are highly talented, they are on top of their dossiers, but they have one weakness: they cannot live without enemies".

However, the Cresson-de Silguy tale involves more than a clash of personalities. It is symptomatic of the decline of French influence inside the European Commission following the departure of Jacques Delors, the visionary Frenchman who made an indelible mark on the institution between 1985 and 1995.

Like Charles de Gaulle, Delors had a knack of speaking for France and Europe in one breath. His project to create a European monetary union (and destroy the hegemony of the Bundesbank)stands as the most audacious example of identifying the French national interest with a wider European interest. He was able to steamroller opposition, thanks to his stamina, his intellect, and to the power base he established in Brussels as president of the Commission.

Today, the French power base is crumbling. The network of Delors loyalists, known as the Stasi, has broken up. Everyone knows that Jacques Santer of Luxembourg was Chancellor Helmut Kohl's choice, not Mitterrand's or Balladur's. Though a francophone, Santer is determined to stay neutral between Paris and Bonn and not give the French a free ride.

Inside the Commission, a new political dynamic is at work. The entry of Austria, Finland and Sweden into the EU this year has tilted the balance of power to the Anglo-German-Dutch free-trade camp, weakening the French-led "Club Med" protectionists. Just as telling was the long overdue decision to end the French language monopoly in Commission press briefings. During Delors' regime, few dared raise the lingua franca issue for fear of arousing French sensitivities; but the admission of two more English-speaking Scandinavian countries made reform inevitable. Business is also being conducted differently inside meetings of the full Commission. In his heyday, Delors controlled the agenda with an iron grip. Most commissioners went along, with the exception of the ever combative Sir Leon Brittan, the senior UK representative, and the wily Padraig Flynn, the Irish social affairs commissioner.

The Santer Commission is far less susceptible to being stampeded. Individuals such as Monika Wulf-Mathies, the German regional affairs commissioner, and Emma Bonino, the brassy fisheries commissioner, are strong-willed politicians in their own right; so, too, Franz Fischler, the Austrian farm commissioner, and Neil Kinnock, Britain's former Labour party leader. Sir Leon rejects the notion that French influence is diminishing, but concedes that "other voices are being heard".

In future, these alternative voices seem certain to grow in volume. Often, though by no means all the time, they will reflect the interests and preferences of Germany, the EU's most powerful state. The commitment to admit the former communist countries of central and eastern Europe around the turn of the century is, above all, a German-driven project, as is the idea of a "hard core" of integrationist minded states committed to political and monetary union.

The conclusion must be that Germany, rather than France, is taking the lead in sketching out the future of Europe. The French may recover their nerve and unity after their presidential election next month. But do not bet the farm.