‘Anyone but him’: Inside Ursula von der Leyen’s long breakup with Thierry Breton

Ursula von der Leyen had been struggling for weeks to form a new team of European commissioners when she picked up the phone for a fateful conversation with Emmanuel Macron sometime last week.

The French president had long since put forward his choice for France’s commissioner in the EU executive — Thierry Breton, the floppy-haired Frenchman in charge of the EU’s internal market, who’d made a name for himself as the bloc’s most colorful and controversial commissioner.

Breton’s role was a key piece in the complex puzzle that the German Commission president needed to assemble before a deadline this week. Replacing him in the final stretch was risky, potentially upsetting the delicate structure and further delaying the official start of her second term.

But von der Leyen had had enough. Following a series of public dustups with Breton and months of icy silence, she told Macron during the phone call that she could no longer work with the French commissioner, according to three officials familiar with the substance of the conversation.

France could either have a larger portfolio without Breton’s name attached to it, or a smaller one with him, according to an EU official with first-hand knowledge of the conversation.  “Given the new cards, [Macron] made his choice,” the official said. 

With that offer, von der Leyen put an end to Breton’s career in the European Commission.

Politically weakened at home following a snap election that strengthened the far right, Macron jumped at the larger portfolio. He put forward Stéphane Séjourné, France’s foreign minister and a loyalist, for the Brussels role — and ditched Breton, whom he had put forward five years before as his “plan B” for the job.

Von der Leyen, who had been pressing countries to nominate more women for the Commission, didn’t push back on the suggestion of yet another male for the job.

“Clearly, it was anyone but Breton,” said a former senior French official.

While the consequences of Breton’s ouster are still unfolding, one major takeaway is that Macron lacked the clout to stand up to von der Leyen’s pressure, suggesting that Paris’ sway over EU affairs has taken a hit.

“This says a lot about the loss of French influence that they weren’t able to impose Breton,” said a French Commission official. “The real problem is that we were unable to get the guarantee that we would get a big portfolio.”

“You’re not my boss”

The phone call cut short the career of one of the EU’s most elephantine personalities.

A former French minister who had come to the Commission after a decade at the head of one of his country’s most important IT companies, Breton was parachuted into the job when Macron’s previous pick was torpedoed by the European Parliament.

During his term, he was at the forefront of some of the EU’s most prominent actions of the past few years: helping to spur the production of enough Covid-19 vaccines for the whole population during the pandemic, organizing the delivery of 1 million artillery shells for Ukraine, and taking on Elon Musk in a high-profile dispute over what should be allowed on social media.

In the end, it was his public criticism of his boss von der Leyen, as well as his challenges to her authority behind closed doors, that ultimately sealed his fate, according to several EU and French officials who were granted anonymity to discuss confidential exchanges.

About halfway through his five-year term, Breton, who felt it was his role to counterbalance von der Leyen’s power in the Commission, started chafing at her top-down management style, the officials said. 

He criticized her appointments and even let it be known he wouldn’t mind replacing her as Commission president — shocking many in the EU’s zipped-up world.

At the heart of their dispute, according to two observers, was the simple fact that Breton never accepted von der Leyen’s authority. That led him to miss opportunities to engage constructively with her, for example via one-on-one meetings or text message exchanges which she granted to other commissioners even when her schedule was packed.

“He never recognized her as a boss and a leader,” said one EU official. “That’s a bad basis for a relationship.”

In the final months, their relationship dwindled to nearly nothing. Aside from a quick hello during meetings of the College of Commissioners, the two had barely spoken in months when von der Leyen had her call with Macron, according to the same sources.

As it turned out, Macron parted ways with Breton as quickly as he’d put him into the job. But in his resignation letter, posted to X on Monday, the jilted commissioner reserved his ire for von der Leyen, citing her “questionable governance” as a reason for his quitting.

The everything commissioner

From his first days as French commissioner, Breton made no effort to fit into the procedural world of EU affairs.

On the contrary, he ran roughshod over the lines of demarcation between the Commission’s various baronies. Speaking to POLITICO in 2019, just after his nomination, Breton diagnosed “major technological and societal challenges, including in terms of culture and media,” and said he was “concerned about the economic situation.”

Never mind that the economy wasn’t his domain — that was Italian Commissioner Paolo Gentiloni’s job.

Breton’s ability to make noise, push himself into the limelight and — sometimes but not always — deliver on promises helped to forge his reputation in Brussels as a maverick who could be a valuable cheerleader for Europe.

Indeed, early on in his term, von der Leyen turned to Breton to lead her Covid-19 vaccine production task force, suggesting a constructive relationship was possible.

“She would turn to him when she needed saving,” said one EU official who asked not to be named.

It wasn’t long, however, before Breton had rankled some of his colleagues. His push to be seen as the bloc’s tech supremo, for example, led to an open rivalry with the Danish competition czar Margrethe Vestager, who went so far as to publicly acknowledge the tension in a press conference.

But it wasn’t until Breton led a rebellion against Vestager’s decision to appoint Fiona Scott-Morton, an American citizen, as the EU’s chief competition economist, that his relations with von der Leyen started to sour.

Along with four other commissioners, Breton sent a letter to von der Leyen in mid-2023 complaining about the appointment, urging her to “re-assess” and calling for “open debate” on the next steps.

The Frenchman was far from being alone in his criticisms: He had the backing of Macron and other leaders who felt uncomfortable putting an American in such a sensitive role.

Yet the letter, its implicit criticism of von der Leyen — her office had signed off on the appointment — and the fact that it had been handed to media did not go unnoticed by von der Leyen and her team.

“In retrospect, the method of leaking these letters really did not help Breton’s standing with VDL,” said one direct observer of the relationship who was granted anonymity to discuss them frankly.

A few months later, during another interview with POLITICO, Breton would again position himself as a potential “plan B” choice for Commission president — hardly the best way of mending fences with his boss.

Growing tensions

In the Commission’s final year, as von der Leyen faced reelection, the relationship took a real turn for the worse.

Von der Leyen’s Cabinet had decided to put forward Markus Pieper, a fellow German member of her Christian Democratic Union party, as envoy for small- and medium-sized businesses. According to two Commission officials, the president’s office sent the name to the College for approval on a day when they knew Breton wouldn’t be present. 

“They put it on a day when they knew he wasn’t going to be there — that’s not good governance,” one of the officials said.

Breton then led the charge against von der Leyen, signing a letter criticizing the decision along with the bloc’s foreign policy chief Josep Borrell and Commissioners Nicolas Schmit and Paolo Gentiloni. At a meeting of the College in April, Breton, along with Borrell, stood up to criticize the president’s handling of the affair in front of all their assembled colleagues.

“He was extremely furious about this,” said one official. “He asked for the floor at the end of the meeting and said it in front of everyone.”

Breton wasn’t alone among his colleagues in bridling against von der Leyen’s centralization of control and tight grip on information to prevent leaks. But he was unusually willing to clash with her.

“Everyone had their frustrations, but Breton handled them in his own way” — namely, by leaking letters of criticism, the official said.

The final crack in their relationship appeared shortly after von der Leyen received the endorsement of her European People’s Party (EPP) to run again for Commission president, in March. 

Breton sent a tweet questioning von der Leyen’s legitimacy as the EPP’s candidate, surprising his colleagues and creating a serious — possibly fatal — rift with the president.

“That tweet really made him lose lots of authority in the College,” said the same EU official. “You can question but behind closed doors. We are meant to be a team.”

For the French Commission official, the tweet was a political mistake that may well have cost Breton his second term in Brussels.

“It was an incredibly dumb thing to stab Ursula,” said the official. “He was the only one in the world who thought that, if it wasn’t Ursula, it would be him. Which was completely impossible. But he believed it.”

Additional reporting by Clea Caulcutt and Barbara Moens.