How to stay sane and clean in the Brussels machine

This article is part of the Brussels Survival Guide.
After Qatargate, everyone in Brussels hopefully knows that (allegedly) receiving bags of cash from foreign agents is a big no-no.
But in a city driven by political deal-making against a backdrop of flashy lobby soirées, there is plenty of scope to lose sight of your principles. Here are lessons from three veterans.
With a bevy of staff, generous expenses and a calendar of high-profile engagements, most members of the European Parliament will tell you that it can all easily go to your head. Outgoing Renew MEP Jan Huitema had his own antidote — which involved regular exposure to manure and udders. 
For the past 10 years, the Dutchman pored over legislative proposals and held forth in plenary debates during the week; while keeping up a generations-old family farm in his native Friesland on the side. 
“Every weekend, I was back on the farm, also milking the cows once or twice a weekend, and for harvesting or tractoring,” he said. Aided by an on-site manager, the 40-year-old from the center-right party of outgoing Prime Minister Mark Rutte oversees a 150-strong herd of picture-book, black-and-white Holstein Friesian dairy cows he inherited from his parents.
His favorite is Rozalina: “She has a good character and looks good.” 
It made for a lot of to and fro-ing between Brussels and the northern Dutch province — but he believes swapping a suit for overalls kept him sane. “As soon as I was back on the farm or in the Netherlands, I did not feel the status of being an MEP,” the politician said. There’s nothing like mucking in mud to bring you down to Earth. “I think that is healthy.” 
Sitting on the Environment Committee and serving as a substitute on the Agriculture Committee, being a farmer wasn’t just Huitema’s side hustle — it was pretty much his political identity.  
That also presented potential conflicts of interest, particularly on the agricultural subsidy his own farm receives. “I’ve always been transparent,” he stressed. “I sometimes, for example, refrained from voting when it affected my district.” 
Huitema will soon be on to fresh pastures, leaving Parliament behind him.  
Looking back over the past decade, he recalled seeing many EU lawmakers with an inflated sense of self. “Always keep in mind that there’s life outside the European Parliament,” he warned newcomers. “It’s not you that people are kissing up to, it’s the seat.”  
Polish minister-turned-European-commissioner-turned-MEP Danuta Hübner sees herself, first and foremost, as a loyal public servant.
But despite having 20 years in European politics under her belt, she has not shied away from swimming against the stream.  
“I was in the group of those who are not voting against my own conscience,” the 76-year-old explained. In her 15 years as an EU lawmaker, she has gone against her European People’s Party group when she felt compelled to — particularly on matters of transparency and gender equality.  
Currently co-chair of a multiparty anti-corruption group and a long-term advocate for reform, she has clashed with not only her political enemies, but also at times her allies. In the run-up to the creation of the EU transparency register in 2014, she recalled with amusement how one of her colleagues complained that he “would not be able to talk to his bishop because of my transparency rules.” 
Such pushback hasn’t fazed her. 
“I just don’t know why transparency would be a threat to the mandate [of an MEP], this I could never understand.”
For MEPs interested in aiming to be above the swamp, she has a top tip: “I would really advise making one of your assistants responsible for everything related to your rules of procedure, your code of conduct.” 
That way, you’ll know you’re not breaking any rules.
If you can’t fix it from the inside and you feel the system getting you down, see what you can do from the outside. That’s a lesson from Nick Aiossa, who worked for three European parliamentarians from different groups for five years up until 2013. 
What he saw in Parliament, especially during his stint as an observer on the Accredited Parliamentary Assistant committee (the body that oversees APAs’ complaints against their bosses), depressed him deeply. 
Harassment of staff, unfair dismissals, fiddling with expenses, widespread diversion of EU taxpayers’ money back to national parties, a lack of protection for whistleblowers — it’s all part of a “culture of impunity,” as he saw it.
“It came with a sense of unfortunate entitlement and knowledge that there was never any scrutiny, and there would never be any accountability,” he said. He saw hypocrisy everywhere. “I have seen labor rights-supporting socialist MEPs treat their employees like garbage.” 
A bit older than the average APA and from the United States, the now 48-year-old saw young, starry-eyed Europeans being let down by an institution that was supposed to promote them. “I learned that MEPs have a tremendous power to shape the perception of young assistants for good or bad. And I saw a lot of bad.”
Aiossa left Parliament feeling jaded, and sought work where he might be able “to channel this frustration to try and make changes,” he said. He ended up at anti-corruption watchdog Transparency International.
A decade later, working on political integrity, public procurement and whistleblower protection, Aiossa is now director of the nongovernmental organization’s EU office. For anyone who might be at the end of their tether, particularly young people working in Parliament, he urges them not to get disenchanted, and to know that there are alternatives.
“It’s good to fight outside,” he said. “But I think it’s important that there are people inside the building fighting the cause. I failed, but others haven’t.”