High-speed lobbying

There are rules to follow when lobbying. When new recruits arrive in Brussels, Pierre gives them a few useful pointers about impromptu meetings – those without appointment – with European officials. After nearly 10 years spent in the European Union's capital, representing the interests of a major industrial group, this cheerful 50-something knows the ropes.

To bump into a Eurocrat [EU official], the least costly method is to spend lunch time hanging around the Schuman Roundabout – the nerve centre of the European district at the crossroads between the headquarters of the EU Commission and that of the Council – when everyone is out trying to find a sandwich or a restaurant. Then, there is the more costly option of buying a first class ticket on the early morning Thalys, the TGV or high-speed train, linking the Belgian capital to Paris, as it brings people to town for their first meetings of the day.

The EU is a small world and the Thalys provides a concentrated version of it. The untrained eye might not notice anything untoward. But, although they are not wearing the accreditation tags that allow them unencumbered entry into the EU Parliament, the Commission building or the hideous headquarters of the Council, they bump into each other so often that a glance on the platform or a tiny gesture made while seated in the comfortable first class seats are enough to spark recognition. They are officials, MEPs, lawyers, business leaders or lobbyists and they all participate, in one way or another, to the giant EU directive-producing apparatus.

Whispered negotiations

[[All of the French-speaking, European elite in Brussels and Paris will, at one time or another, be obliged to take the TGV]] which links the two capitals in just under 90 minutes – at least when there are no delays. One can even run into Commission President José Manuel Barroso. This was the case on November 26, 2010 when, returning from Paris, the Commission President spent the entire trip on the telephone.

Bent into the table of his seat, his hand in front of the phone, the Portuguese leader was trying to discretely iron out a bailout plan for Ireland, then in financial chaos. At the other end of the line there were, among others, [German Chancellor] Angela Merkel, [then-French President] Nicholas Sarkozy and [former head of the European Central Bank] Jean-Claude Trichet. If those around him on the Thalys had only known... These forced whispering sessions led to a final plan for Dublin which was announced two days later.

Cooped-up for an hour and 20 minutes in a small space, these people talk to each other. Often, no more than a minute is needed. A wink or a quick phrase tossed over the back of a seat or on a train platform. The trick is to send a message and to call attention to oneself. This is important in a sector saturated with information.

In the 2000s, a transport directive was rejigged after a trip in the Thalys by Jacques Barrot. The EU Transport Commissioner at the time, Barrot found himself face to face with a lobbyist from a major European firm. Talk was soon steered towards a directive under preparation which included a minor issue that troubled the firm. Whether fortuitous or by coincidence, this thorny question was finally removed after this brief conversation on the TGV – which was followed by a flurry of emails.

To meet the right people, of course, you have to get the right train. It is true that at 11am the chance of running into a high-level European official is not totally nil. But at that time of day, there is as much chance of sitting next to a tax evader, the heir of a major French industrial family screaming into the phone so the entire car can hear that "three partridges and some Château Latour must be prepared" for the hunt this weekend. His neighbour in the train is still amused by it.

Navigating train timetables

But if one is hunting Eurocrats, then it is better to wander the aisles of the Brussels-Paris Thalys on Friday evening after 5pm when many of the French members of the Commission return home. The same is true, in the opposite direction, on Sunday night. But the best is to take the train at the crack of dawn during the week. "The 7.13am or the 7.37am between Paris and Brussels are by far the most popular," says a regular.

[[Having a dash of concentrated Brussels in a small area has its advantages. But there are some dangers too]]. If a highwayman were to attack the car, as stage coaches were in days of yore, he would get away with all the little economic secrets of the continent. "I always keep my things cautiously next to my leg," says a lawyer. "For me, on the Thalys it's Sudoku and cross word puzzles, I'm too afraid of being spied upon," adds a lobbyist. José Manuel Barroso nearly always reserves a small private compartment at the end of the train in order to discretely prepare for his Parisian meetings – except when saving Ireland is in question, apparently.

There are clear reasons to worry about prying eyes or inquisitive ears. A few years ago, a European civil servant had the bright idea of working on a major Commission project. He would have done well to turn around and see that a journalist was sitting behind him. The next day, when his bosses saw that a major English-language wire service was headlining Brussels' problems with this particular competition issue, the poor Eurocrat nearly lost his job.

"I don't know of any specific rules from our direction regarding security while travelling on the Thalys," admits a European official. This proves that option number two, as proposed by Pierre, the lobbyist, even if it is more expensive reaps the richer rewards. No one has ever heard of a starving Eurocrat divulging secrets while in search of a sandwich.