The
strange career of Günther Oettinger
In
all likelihood, the German commissioner will use same successful
formula to ride out uproar over off-color remarks.
By JOANNA PLUCINSKA,
CHRIS SPILLANE AND MATTHEW KARNITSCHNIG 11/2/16, 7:50 PM CET Updated
11/2/16, 11:10 PM CET
Günther Oettinger
has never been one to bite his tongue.
There was that time
back in 2000 when he broke into the banned
“Deutschland,-Deutschland-über-Alles” verse at a celebration of
his German nationalist fraternity. Or the time as Baden-Württemberg
premier he lamented that Germany was surrounded by friendly
neighbors: “The unfortunate thing is, there won’t be another
war,” he joked. Then there was the time this year he said he would
“shoot myself” if Frauke Petry, the populist leader of the
Alternative for Germany, were his wife.
Then, as now,
Oettinger’s folksiness was central to his appeal. With a Swabian
accent so thick it could be mistaken for a speech impediment, he has
survived by being what most politicians aren’t — himself.
That explains why he
will, in all likelihood, withstand the present uproar over his
off-color remarks about the Chinese, gay marriage, Walloons and women
with careers.
As her spokesman
made clear this week, Angela Merkel has no interest in letting him
fall. The Commission, taking its cue from Berlin, refused to comment
on Oettinger’s remarks. Jean-Claude Juncker’s spokesman
Margaritis Schinas said that as far as he was aware, the Commission
president hadn’t discussed the matter with Oettinger, much less
demanded an apology.
Speaking at a
business event in Hamburg, he called Chinese people “slant eyes,”
joked that German legislators would soon introduce a law for
“mandatory gay marriage,” called Wallonia a “micro-region ruled
by communists,” and noted that a recent delegation from China to
Germany had “no women,” perhaps because there are no quotas for
women in top jobs in China.
“There is nothing
to apologize for,” a defiant Oettinger told a EurActiv reporter
Wednesday.
“That’s just how
our Oetti is,” a columnist for Oettinger’s hometown paper, the
Stuttgarter Nachrichten, concluded this week, dismissing the
commissioner’s critics as “Twitter horny” and “politically
correct vultures.”
While the support
for their hometown boy isn’t surprising, the reality is that for
all the outrage among Brussels cosmopolitans over the comments,
neither Germany nor Europe seems particularly bothered by them. So
far, none of Germany’s main television news programs have devoted
much attention to the controversy. Claus Kleber, a popular public
television anchorman, offered a typical German reaction via Twitter,
saying he had no time for the “polished talk” one hears from
“image consultants, defenders of political correctness and
lawyers.”
The real question is
whether the affair will impair Oettinger’s effectiveness in his new
role as budget commissioner and vice president. Unlike with the
digital portfolio, which he came to with almost no background,
Oettinger, a trained tax lawyer, possesses all the technical skills
to be the Commission’s top number-cruncher. Whether he has the
political acumen to navigate tricky budget negotiations is less
clear.
Oetti’s Brussels
adventures
For all his
shortcomings and propensity to put his foot in his mouth, Oettinger
counts within the Commission as one of its more competent officials.
That wasn’t always the case.
Back in 2014,
Brussels didn’t have high hopes for him when he shifted from energy
to take over the digital economy portfolio. He could be curt, tearing
up his notes if he deemed a subject unworthy of his attention. In the
often pretentious world of Brussels officialdom, he came across as
unintellectual and unserious — more likely to obsess over cars or
football than trade deals or European Union directives.
To make matters
worse, as a die-hard Luddite, he seemed uniquely unqualified for his
new position. His more tech-savvy boss, Commission Vice President for
the Digital Single Market Andrus Ansip, was at ease on social media
or on the trendiest apps, like Pokémon Go.
Oettinger has
arguably had more influence on European digital policy during the
Juncker Commission than any other official, including Ansip.
Oettinger, as he
told the crowd at his now-infamous Hamburg speech last week,
preferred an old-fashioned newspaper to Twitter and document
printouts to a tablet or iPhone. As he settled into his office, his
aides rushed to install a computer and carry away piles of paper
stacked precariously on every available surface.
In the 22 months
since his appointment, Oettinger has changed little. He continues to
express more interest in breakthroughs in the automotive industry
than the more abstract areas of his portfolio, such as data flows or
ICT standards. His home in Brussels, he told a group of reporters and
tech lobbyists recently, is not set up for Wi-Fi — something he
attributes to his long hours at the office. At home, he prefers “a
nice bottle of Bordeaux” to a broadband connection, he added.
Digital victories
Nonetheless,
Oettinger has arguably had more influence on European digital policy
during the Juncker Commission than any other official, including
Ansip.
While Ansip has
struggled to push forward his ambitious agenda centered around
breaking down digital barriers, often referred to as geo-blocking,
Oettinger has used his negotiating skills to deliver for his allies
in industry, like the German publishing sector, a series of
high-profile victories.
During the summer,
he strong-armed his way into negotiations on boosting European
startups, infuriating his more innovation-focused colleagues. Before
that, he bulldozed past Vodafone to accept a plan that would keep
some power over German copper network cables in the hands of giant
Deutsche Telekom.
“He is a real fan
of monopolies and a fan of supporting the bigger companies, and not
looking at all at the smaller players” — German Greens MEP Jan
Philipp Albrecht
And when the
Commission unveiled its epochal overhaul of copyright law in
September, it was clear that Oettinger had won again.
Following intense
lobbying from the likes of German media giants Bertelsmann and Axel
Springer — which is a co-owner of POLITICO’s European publication
— the Commission swatted aside the concerns of American internet
giants like Google and Yahoo and introduced a new measure that would
allow publishers to better control and monetize snippets of their
works used online.
“It’s specific
sectors. He has the ear of specific businesses,” said Dutch liberal
MEP Marietje Schaake. And in leaning on these players, Oettinger
continues to cross things off his digital to-do list. “He has
learned a lot about the digital economy going from someone who is new
on the issue,” said the vice president for Europe at the Computer
and Communications Industry Association, James Waterworth. “He is
clearly a powerful commissioner.”
Oettinger declined
to comment for this article.
Latin bonds
Oettinger was born
in 1953 in Stuttgart, where his father was a local politician. After
earning a law degree from the University of Tubingen, he worked as a
small-town lawyer and a district councilor in Ludwigsburg, a town of
fewer than 100,000 inhabitants in his home state of
Baden-Württemberg.
In his twenties, he
quickly started getting involved in the local political scene in
addition to his legal profession.
Oettinger signed up
to the youth wing of Germany’s leading conservative political
party, the Christian Democratic Union. And that’s when his
political aspirations began to take off.
One of the formative
moments of his early political career, and that of many of his CDU
brethren, was a 1979 trip to Venezuela and Chile organized by the
party. The trip was intended as a bond-building exercise for young
promising CDU politicians.
The other travelers
included Roland Koch, who would become the prime minister of Hesse,
where Germany’s financial capital Frankfurt lies; Peter Müller,
who later become the head of the state of Saarland; and Christian
Wulff, who became premier of Lower Saxony before being elected
Germany’s president in 2010. On a flight over the Andes, the young
men formed a political alliance, swearing to work together and never
to run against each other.
At the time of his
arrival in Brussels, Oettinger could barely speak English and wasn’t
particularly charming either. “He had quite an individual way of
giving a speech,” said one source. “It was often a stream of
consciousness.” He quickly earned a reputation for ending meetings
abruptly when he lost interest.
Oettinger joined a
lifelong exclusive club. “He was networked in,” said Professor Ed
Turner, a specialist in German politics at Aston University.
From there, he
became the head of Baden-Württemberg’s Junge Union, or youth
chapter, which propelled him to a position in the state’s
parliament. By 1991, he was leading the region’s entire CDU unit.
That same year, he was caught driving under the influence of alcohol
and his license was revoked. The setback did little to halt his
ascent. He continued to build his influence within the party until in
2005, his colleagues selected him as state premier.
In his new position,
Oettinger was in charge of running a state far larger than many
European countries, and he quickly obtained a reputation as one of
the most pro-business politicians in Germany. The state is home to
the headquarters of carmakers Porsche and Mercedes, as well as
auto-parts giant Robert Bosch. By developing close ties with these
industrial powers and others, Oettinger could promote the region’s
economy. And with their support, he could push through difficult
legislation.
“He is a real fan
of monopolies and a fan of supporting the bigger companies, and not
looking at all at the smaller players,” said German Greens MEP Jan
Philipp Albrecht.
His life in German
politics seemed charmed. He was a celebrity at local beer festivals
and industrial fairs. His position at the head of Baden-Württemberg
made him one of Germany’s most powerful men, and he was a
sought-after guest at many of the country’s most important
political events.
Then Merkel took
over.
She was a new figure
in the CDU’s power structure — an underdog from East Germany with
few connections and much to prove.
“Undoubtedly
Merkel sat outside of this West German Junge Union network,” said
Turner. “She may have had something to prove and had to establish
herself.”
In Merkel’s stiff,
calculating, hyper-effective CDU, there was no time for backslapping
or beer-swigging — and no place for the old boys’ club of the
Junge Union.
“He was basically
pushed off his high horse” — Ex-Commission source
Oettinger clashed
with Merkel on budget policy and other issues. His star seemed to be
fading.
At home, a scandal
involving the delivery of a eulogy that was widely seen as the
defense of a former Nazi politician eroded his popularity.
At the same time, he
faced an ambitious internal rival for his job. In 2010, Oettinger
surprised everyone by taking the post as the EU’s energy
commissioner.
Whether Merkel saw
the move as chance to get rid of a meddlesome critic or an
opportunity to lift Germany’s influence on the Commission isn’t
clear.
For Oettinger, what
many viewed as banishment to the soft Siberia of Brussels turned out
to be a gracious exit with propitious timing.
Soon after he left,
demonstrations over an expensive new railway station in Stuttgart
erupted and his party struggled to deal with the public backlash. A
year later, the CDU failed to win enough support to build a coalition
and was out of power in the state.
‘I don’t like
McDonald’s’
Not that Brussels
was easy for the German. For the first time in his career, Oettinger
found himself living outside of Germany.
European
commissioners tend to be multilingual and worldly. Ansip, for
example, speaks English, Russian, Estonian, some Finnish and German,
and is now studying French. European Commissioner for Research and
Innovation Carlos Moedas went to the Harvard Business School, speaks
English, French, Portuguese and Spanish, and has lived in the U.S.,
U.K., France and Belgium on top of his native Portugal.
At the time of his
arrival, Oettinger could barely speak English and had never really
ever left Baden-Württemberg. “I never needed English [in
Germany],” he told a Brussels audience at the DLDeurope conference
in early September. “I don’t like McDonald’s.” He knew enough
to make small talk, he added, and for his purposes that had always
been enough.
He wasn’t
particularly charming, either. He had a penchant for going off-script
at speaking engagements, ranting about seemingly random issues
unrelated to the event at hand. This made his aides and his fellow
commissioners nervous. “He had quite an individual way of giving a
speech,” said one energy industry source. “It was often a stream
of consciousness.” He quickly earned a reputation for ending
meetings abruptly when he lost interest.
As the criticism
mounted, Oettinger realized that if we was going to accomplish
anything, he’d have to make some changes, say sources close to him.
He signed up for English classes, started listening to the experts on
his staff, and began reading up on energy policy.
“He was basically
pushed off his high horse,” said an ex-Commission source. “He
probably realized: I might have to start listening to people and
learn something new.”
Energy highs
As energy
commissioner, Oettinger was responsible for negotiating with some of
the biggest businesses and biggest countries in Europe, and as he
began to figure out how to navigate the Commission, his old skills —
and workaholic habits — started to come in handy. And in deal after
deal, he started to earn the respect of the most powerful players in
the world of energy policy.
He was credited with
breaking down long-stagnant barriers to ease the flow of gas across
European borders. His work arbitrating a gas dispute between Ukraine
and Russia around the time of Crimea’s annexation in 2014, for
example, won him respect in EU and Russian circles alike. Among those
he stood up to were Merkel and Russian President Vladimir Putin, when
he championed the EU becoming more independent of Russian energy
supplies. “If he can take on Gazprom, he can take on anyone,”
said Gregoire Verdeaux, international policy director at Vodafone.
“Anyone stupid
enough to put a naked photo of themselves on the internet, cannot
expect us to protect them” — Günther Oettinger
It’s also when his
reputation for favoring big business started expanding across
Brussels. As the EU started to try to bring in higher standards for
fuel efficiency and a low carbon energy system, Oettinger pushed
back. “He stood up for the classical fossil fuels industry
interest,” said Wendel Trio, the director of the Climate Action
Network. “I think he was seen as defending the status quo and the
big companies.”
But his successes
kept mounting, along with his political clout. As the Greek financial
crisis unfolded, he became a leading source of commentary in German
and European media, cementing his stature not just as an energy
heavyweight, but as a leading political figure.
“Oettinger
realized he could reinvent himself, and he’s done that in the
Commission,” said a German think tank source.
By the time the next
Commission was being formed, Oettinger had racked up an impressive
four years. German media speculated that he was headed for a more
senior role. Perhaps he would be given the trade portfolio, or maybe
one of the coveted vice presidential positions.
‘Facepalm’
Instead, he was
assigned the digital portfolio, a subject for which he could hardly
be less qualified.
Julia Reda, the
European Parliament’s sole Pirate Party member and a vocal critic
of his, remembers the exact moment she first heard about Oettinger’s
impending appointment as digital commissioner. She was at a
conference when a lobbyist floated the rumor. Reda remembers that a
conservative parliamentary colleague sitting nearby reacted with a
“facepalm” — the colloquial term for slapping one’s forehead
with despair.
Oettinger at first
seemed completely uneducated on his portfolio and out of sync with
his colleagues. He compared net neutrality activists to the Taliban.
He ranted about connected cars but didn’t appear to understand how
they worked.
And in one of his
most egregious trip-ups, he blamed celebrities for their own naked
photo leaks. “Anyone stupid enough to put a naked photo of
themselves on the internet, cannot expect us to protect them,”
Oettinger said at a parliamentary hearing.
The backlash was
swift. The celebrities, victims of a crime, had done no such thing.
But while he may never have grasped the intricacies of digital
policy, he seems to have approached his job with a better
understanding of what makes Brussels work: power.
While the other
commissioners theorize about data flows and virtual reality,
Oettinger is more likely to be attending an industry event, talking
late into the night with the CEOs of major telecom companies or
publishing houses. “While Ansip sees the need for reforms to create
new companies and sectors, Oettinger is more comfortable with reforms
that help current companies and sectors,” said Fredrik Erixon, the
director of the European Centre for International Political Economy.
“If you talk to
German telecom or others, they’re happy with him because they got a
lot of access,” said a German think tank source. “He was more
open to engaging what he perceived as big players in his field,
[including the] big publishers.”
Meanwhile, inside
the Commission, Oettinger has used his position to place himself
between his boss and the drafting of legislation, according to three
sources with firsthand knowledge.
The results are best
seen in the copyright overhaul, in which Oettinger’s allies in the
publishing world triumphed over their digital counterparts. “The
copyright review reads like it was copy-pasted from German media
law,” said Reda, who was on the other side from him in this debate.
Similarly, Oettinger has promised leaders in the telecoms industry
the power to build new networks and compete for coveted 5G real
estate. A new overhaul of communications rules will give more
incentive to companies to build up sophisticated digital
infrastructure.
What worries some
media and telecom industry executives about Oettinger’s new
assignment is that all of the work he did on digital will go out the
window, especially if Ansip, who is regarded as less friendly to
industry, takes over. “If Oettinger goes away, many things might be
put into question,” one senior telecom lobbyist said.
Ryan Heath and Zoya
Sheftalovich contributed reporting.
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