Everything resembles a thriller novel. Early one morning in December last year, after months of undercover investigation and wiretapping, Belgian police officers raided dozens of locations across Brussels. Over the next 3 days, in apartments, hotel rooms and offices, they seized laptops, mobile phones and nearly 1.5 million euros in cash.
The following week, 4 people were arrested on corruption charges, including 2 representatives, a former member of parliament and a current member of the European Parliament. Antonio Panzeri, a retired MEP from Italy, who eventually admitted that he was the mastermind of the corruption scheme.
Meanwhile, Eva Kaili, vice-president of the European Parliament from Greece, continues to claim her innocence from the prison cell. Last month, two more members of the European Parliament were arrested in connection with this scandal. As for the money that was found, all signs pointed to Qatar.
Over the previous 3 years, Panzer and Kaili had tolerated the small Gulf state’s dubious human rights record. In 2019, Panzer called the Arab country “an example” for respecting human rights.
While in November 2022, one day after the start ceremony of the World Cup in Qatar, Kaili described this country as a “model in respecting the rights of employees”. Although Qatar denied the accusations, the scandal soon got the name “Qatargate”. The revelations are scandalous.
But even more intriguing is what the scandal reveals about the European Parliament itself, the least important institution of the European Union. There’s a reason why Qatar is so likely to bribe members of a representative body that can’t propose any laws on its behalf, dictates no foreign policy, and draws little attention even from those who vote for it.
The European Parliament may be the second democratic body in the world, elected by vote. But his powers have never been very great. Since 1958, it has functioned as an appendage of the European Council and Commission – the two institutions that form the bloc’s executive body – and which dictate laws, approve budgets and occasionally veto their own proposals.
But by the early 2000s, as the bloc introduced a common currency and began to integrate the former communist states of Eastern Europe, it looked as if the European Parliament might evolve into a kind of American Congress. So it could become a really all-powerful institution that would replace the national parliaments and that would attract a large number of Europeans to vote.
This never happened. The European Parliament remains little known and less discussed. Unable to draft laws, regulate taxes or conduct foreign policy, his concerns are less about “politics” and more about matters of a narrowly technocratic nature.
However, money flows through Brussels, as it does in every seat of government. And the history of the European Parliament shows that it is constantly vulnerable to corruption. The most notorious incident occurred in 2006, when an audit of more than 160 parliamentarians revealed gross abuses of power, such as inflated salaries and backlogs.
Parliament spent several years trying to forget that report, but similar stories continued to surface. In response, the EP pledged greater transparency. Yet to this day the irrigation industry in Brussels remains remarkably non-transparent, and perhaps deliberately so.
Many of the 12,000 lobbyists working in Brussels may be household names. But there are no rules that indicate who MEPs can meet or whether they must make those meetings public. There are only a few “recommendations” for them. Until 2018, MEPs voted against measures that required full transparency on their work, including, for example, how and where their monthly expenses go.
Poor participation in decision-making, high turnover, and conflicts of interest are difficult to resolve, let alone eradicate, in a body where 1 in 4 MEPs admit to having a second job . When MEPs retire, 1/3 of them are employed in lobbying firms where they are better paid.
Elected to the European Parliament in 2004, Panzer is a typical example. In 2018, in his capacity as head of the parliamentary subcommittee on human rights, he pioneered a “memorandum of cooperation” with Qatar’s National Human Rights Committee.
After retiring a year later, Panzer moved into the private sector and founded a non-governmental organization called Fight Impunity. Within a few months, the latter started organizing conferences and publishing serious reports on the state of women’s rights in Afghanistan and the genocide against the Rohingya. But the problem is that under the cloak of credibility, the Panzer was conducting another operation. According to the testimony of Ms. Kaili’s partner – a former aide to Mr. Panzeri and co-founder of Fight Impunity – the Italian created the organization with the express purpose of absorbing the fat Qatari funds that began arriving in Brussels in 2019.
For Qatar, the deal was arguably too good to turn down. At a nominal cost to its annual natural gas revenues, representatives of a parliament that consistently criticizes human rights abuses in countries such as Haiti and Belarus awarded Qatar the status of a champion country in respecting rights.
Over the years, Qatar has expanded its influence. In Britain, he controls more real estate in London than the local royal family. In France, he has bought the most popular football team in the country. And in the United States, it has spent hundreds of thousands on election campaigns, donated hundreds of millions to universities and pledged to inject billions into infrastructure.
The difference between billions of dollars passed through banks and real estate companies and millions of euros tucked away in closets and suitcases is probably a matter of aesthetics. But the scandal is a lesson, even a warning for Brussels. Even in the most rudimentary elements of state-building – regulating foreign influence and limiting foreign interests – Europe still has a long way to go.
