Italian premier Matteo Renzi is central to the maneuvering for the European Commission presidency. Photo: Getty
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Don't overlook Italy's PM in the European Commission power struggle

The tussle for the European Commission top-spot isn't just Cameron vs Juncker's supporters; Matteo Renzi, the Italian prime minister, is a key broker.

The hubbub and soap opera of who gets the European Commission presidency may have centred on a power struggle between David Cameron and the supporters of Jean-Claude Juncker, but it would be a mistake to overlook the rise of another man – Italian prime minister Matteo Renzi.

Renzi has only been in post since April, but by tying his support for a Juncker presidency to whether the conservative spitzenkandidat will agree to loosen the EU’s budgetary rules, he has emerged as a key broker.

He also has a strong hand to play. Renzi’s Democratic party scored a decisive victory in May’s European election poll, taking 31 of Italy’s 73 MEP seats, and he has strong support among public opinion and his government.

The EU’s stability and growth pact requires governments to keep budget deficits below 3 percent and debt levels to 60 percent. But despite years of austerity most EU countries have barely managed the 3 percent deficit limit, while average debt ratios have soared to over 90 percent of GDP.

It is unclear whether Renzi will demand a re-write or merely a generous reinterpretation of how the rules are applied, but the direction of travel is clear.

And it is gaining support.

Earlier this week, German economy minister and social democrat party leader Sigmar Gabriel, called on the implementation of the deficit rules to be relaxed, commenting that “countries that are embarking on reforms must have more time to cut their deficits, but it has to be binding.”

“This is what we intend to put up for debate in the weeks and months ahead as part of a reorganization of European policy,” he added.

Gabriel was quickly slapped down by Angela Merkel, and his boss in the finance ministry Wolfgang Schaueble, who insisted that 3 percent limit offers enough flexibility.

Meanwhile, Herman van Rompuy’s office were forced to scotch rumours that the European Council president was preparing a joint paper with Renzi on the issue.

But for all that, there is also sympathy among some EU officials with the difficulties faced by Italy and other countries, who are forcing through unpopular labour market reforms but are strait-jacketed by the pact’s rules from targeted stimulus measures.

As a result, both countries are locked into vicious spirals. Despite keeping within the EU’s deficit rules, a two year recession has pushed Italy’s debt burden to an eye-watering 130 percent, second in size only to Greece. There is also an awareness that as the bloc’s second and third largest economies, France and Italy fall into the ‘too big to fail’ category of countries in the eurozone.

But it was inevitable that the issue would be returned to. In 2010 and 2011, when the eurozone debt crisis was at its bleakest, many politicians were prepared to commit themselves to anything that made them look tough on deficits and tough on the causes of deficits.

The main ideological battle that was waged on these reforms, and ultimately won by Europe’s right back in 2011 and 2012, was on whether to give preferential treatment to public investment targeted at education, research and infrastructure projects.

Critics say that this so-called ‘golden rule’, encourages creative accounting and that the 3 percent threshold gives governments sufficient flexibility.

In contrast, the Keynesian school of thought argues that the 3 percent deficit limit enshrines austerity that, in many cases, will cause an economic recession to be deeper than need be. In the short-term spending cuts may help balance the books, but without investment they won’t lead to recovery.

But it is not just centre-left politicians who are clamouring to re-write the rules, or at least reinterpret the way they are applied. Conservatives in much of southern Europe find that years of pushing through painful austerity programmes have done little to improve their economic prospects.

That Renzi is spearheading this campaign alone is also indicative of France’s decline. When Francois Hollande became only France’s second Socialist president to be elected since the Fifth republic began, it was expected that he would become a badly needed figurehead for the European left, and a counterbalance to Berlin.

It has not happened. Instead Hollande has lurched between domestic election defeats and ever declining personal ratings. Struggling to meet its budget targets despite being given a two year extension, France would be one of the main beneficiaries from a loosening of the EU’s fiscal rules. But its voice post-European elections has been silenced.

Renzi’s gambit may not secure an immediate policy change, but it highlights his status as the leading centre-left politician on the EU stage, and is an important mark in the sand ahead of Italy’s six month presidency. His timing could hardly be better.

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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.