Welcome, 77 artists, 40 different points of Attica welcomes you by singing Erotokritos an epic romance written at 1713 by Vitsentzos Kornaros
Friday, September 20, 2013
European Federalism 2.0: A Fix for Europe?
Counter-terrorism unit takes on probe into Fyssas murder
Slain Greek anti-fascist rapper I wont cry I wont fear
Greece to take on EU presidency in January with smaller budget
Moody’s Greek RMBS market continuing to weaken
Greek bonds rally due to variety of factors
Greek highway fund to be closed over mismanagement allegations
Former Greek Defense Ministry official to be tried for graft
Crisis: Greece lost some 40 bln euros in uncollected VAT
Greece seized by new sense of foreboding as violence flares in streets
Clashes between far-right Golden Dawn and anti-fascists raise fears that crisis has reached new stage
It was not the scene that Greece's international stewards envisaged when they last visited the country at the epicentre of Europe's financial mess. When representatives of the "troika" of creditors arrived in June, book-keeping in Athens had been problem-free and monitors described their inspection tour as "almost boring". The great Greek debt crisis, it seemed, had finally gone quiet.
But when mission heads representing the European Union, International Monetary Fund and European Central Bank fly into Athens on Sunday – for the start of a review upon which the future of Greece will hang – what they will find is a country teetering on the edge: its people divided as never before, its mood brittle, its streets the setting for running battles between anti-fascists and neo-Nazis. And unions girding for battle.
After six years of recession, four years of austerity and the biggest financial rescue programme in global history, it is clear that Greeks have moved into another phase, beyond the fear, fatigue and fury engendered by record levels of poverty and unemployment.
Along with the teargas – fired on Monday for the first time in more than a year outside the administrative reform ministry – there is a new sense of foreboding: a belief that they might never be "saved" and, worse still, could turn against each other.
This week's murder of the hip-hop artist Pavlos Fyssas by a member of the far-right Golden Dawn party highlighted that fear.
"It really worries me that political passions have got out of control, that they've surpassed any notion of common sense," said Stamatis Stefanakos, gasping for breath after being teargassed at an anti-fascist rally held in Keratsini, the working-class district where Fyssas was stabbed to death late on Tuesday. "I don't know how it will happen, or when it will happen, or what course it will take but with mathematical precision there will be an explosion here, of that I am sure."
Nervy, bespectacled and intense, Stefanakos is, at 41, typical of the new type of activist Greece's economic crisis has spawned. For the past year the computer scientist has volunteered at food banks and participated in the burgeoning solidarity movement now taking root in local neighbourhoods. He has witnessed, first-hand, the "quiet desperation" of ordinary Greeks pushed to the brink by draconian cuts, escalating taxes and loss of benefits.
"I can't just watch my country being destroyed by these policies," he said. "Forget about taxes. People can't even pay their rents. When you have a society under such pressure anything could happen, even civil war."
Greek officials make no secret of the fact they are investing hope in Germany, the main provider of bailout funds to date. "After the elections there everything will change," said one well-placed insider. "The new government will be able to relax the pressure." But few are persuaded recovery will be that easy.
With joblessness nudging 28%, Greece's largest labour union, GSEE, this month predicted it would take at least 20 years before employment returned to pre-crisis levels. Prime minister Antonis Samaras's fragile coalition hit back, describing the forecast as the "worst possible scenario, designed to predict catastrophe and create a false impression".
But in a country which has seen its economy contract by 25% since 2008 – a decline not experienced by any advanced western economy since the 1929 Wall Street crash – it is the union and not the conservative-dominated government which has been proved more accurate in its predictions.
The death of hope that has come with the failure to rein in Greece's runaway debt – at the start of the crisis it stood at 120% of GDP, now it amounts to 175% – has been compounded by the news that Athens will almost certainly need a third bailout to plug a €11bn (£9.3bn) funding gap over the next two years. Fresh aid is likely to mean more belt-tightening on top of mass lay-offs in the public sector that Athens's troika of creditors has demanded by the end of the year.
"Had these fiscal policies worked, had they resolved some of the country's problems, we might be more understanding," insisted Ermes Kasses, the newly installed head of the civil servants' union, Adedy. "Instead the situation has gone from bad to worse and now the troika want our blood. Well, they are not going to get it because we are going to put up the mother of all battles. We know that our enemy is methodical, hard and cold, that what we face is a test of endurance … but we won't tire, we will go on, we will fight this battle until the government, troika and Europe change these policies."
The union, which brought the entire civil service to a 48-hour standstill this week, will decide what form further industrial action will take over the weekend. Teachers have already announced five-day rolling strikes to protest against job losses.
Fears are mounting that unless Greece is cut some slack it will tip into the sort of left-right strife that kept the country divided, bloody and poor in the 1940s and internationally isolated during the seven years of military rule that preceded the restoration of democracy in 1974.
No party has profited more from the crisis than the vehemently anti-immigrant Golden Dawn whose insignia resembles the swastika and whose leadership openly admire Adolf Hitler. In the three months since international inspectors last visited Athens, support for the extremist group has jumped from 10% to 15% despite its deliberate attempt to escalate political tensions by targeting leftists.
"Greece today is at the door of the madhouse. Democracy is endangered," the columnist Panos Amyra warned in the pages of Eleftheros Typos, whose views often reflect those of the governing centre-right New Democracy party. "If the social tension that has built up is not repulsed it could lead to an uncontrollable situation that will only serve those who have invested in general disorder … [and] the country's tradition of chaos and raw violence."
Samaras acknowledged this week that Greece was experiencing an "extremely critical time".
Pledging he would not allow the "descendents of Nazis to poison society", he appealed to Greeks to remain calm so that they could get on with the business of mending their economy and seeing their "immense sacrifices" pay off.
The electric atmosphere is not likely to make negotiations with the troika – already being described as the toughest yet – any easier. In addition to mass firings, creditors are demanding the government shuts down loss-making defence and mining companies, presses ahead with controversial privatisations and cracks down on tax avoidance.
Overhanging all of this is the fear that social security funds are on the verge of collapse – a prospect that would mean yet more cuts to pensions. "Politically and socially, the crisis is only just beginning. It's going to be a very difficult winter," said the political commentator Giorgos Kyrtsos. "With unemployment at such explosive levels it is clear that pension funds are about to cave in."
Greek politicians liken their position to being at war. Seated behind his ornate wooden desk, under an oil painting of doves flocking around a Greek flag, the health minister Adonis Georgiadis spiritedly conveys the dilemma.
He doesn't want anyone to think that Athens is unwilling to keep its side of the deal. And perhaps to make the point a sign emblazoned with the words Pacta Sunt Servanda (agreements must be kept) also hangs above his head. But there are limits. His own budget, he says, has been cut by 50% – losses that have prompted concerns Greece is now heading for a public health disaster.
"We are ready to enact all the reforms that are needed but there is not one single member of our parliament who would vote for further measures that would destroy our society," he said. "The last three years have been really very difficult, maybe the most difficult our country [has endured] since world war two … now we have to give Greeks hope. Morale is a very big thing in battle." It was imperative that hope was given to the young because with youth unemployment at 65% it was they who were flocking to Golden Dawn, he said.
Four years of relentless cost-cutting has not been without result. Greece has balanced its budget to the point it is now on track to achieving a primary budget surplus once debt repayments are made. That, says Samaras, will allow it to return to markets and relinquish dependence on international aid.
"Politically it's the most sensitive time because we are nearing the end of our huge effort and, like athletes in a marathon, the last two to three kilometres are always the most critical," said Georgiadis.
Greek officials hope that once a new government is installed in Germany, Berlin will also agree to discuss debt forgiveness – widely seen as the only possible way of making Athens' €321bn debt load sustainable.
But much will depend on political stability and that is far from given.
"Greece's exit from the crisis is being made much more politically difficult and socially painful than is needed," said Prof Kevin Featherstone, director of the London School of Economics Hellenic Observatory. "The spread and depth of austerity that lenders have insisted on has been much too severe. There has been success, but success at what price? If this is success, who wants to be rescued like this?"
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Angela Merkel: The Authorised Biography by Stefan Kornelius – review
On the eve of the German election, Philip Oltermann solves the Merkel mystery
On a recent trip to Washington, I went to the Newseum, one of those American museums dedicated entirely to the history of one thing, in this case news reporting. In the foyer is an entire segment of the Berlin Wall, the largest outside Germany. Walking around that concrete slab, I marvelled at the scale of the thing, its gunshot pockmarks and the arabesque graffiti: real history, written in a kind of cryptic braille.
And then I looked at the plaque alongside, which tries to explain the wall's meaning in the language of journalism. The graffiti on the Berlin Wall, it says, was sprayed on by "freedom-lovers" – a phrase so ideologically overcharged it sounds absurd. The more times I read it, the more meaningless it seemed: what if the sprayers just simply loved graffiti?
Reading Stefan Kornelius's biography of the German chancellor, I was reminded several times of the display in the Newseum. Angela Merkel may currently be the most discussed and least understood ruler in the world. Likely to be re-elected on 22 September for the third term in a row, she is as despised as she is admired. Some think she is a neoliberal zealot, others reckon she is a closet Marxist; she's both an austerity addict and the first conservative social democrat, a scientifically minded rationalist and a religious ideologue. The true nature of the Merkel phenomenon is as elusive as North Sea fog. For some reason, this makes it irresistible for journalists to wheel out the equivalent of the "freedom-lover" tag.
Kornelius, for one, can't resist. In an attempt to explain what makes Merkel tick, he points to her speech at the Christian Democrats' party conference in October 2003. This is considered the moment she came closest to baring her ideological soul, but it's quite hard to tell what she was going on about: "Without freedom there is nothing! Freedom is the joy of achievement, the flourishing of the individual, the celebration of difference, the rejection of mediocrity, personal responsibility."
Another speech, from 2010: "On one side stands freedom from something; on the other, freedom to do something. So when we speak of freedom we are always speaking of someone else's freedom." Freedom lies in the release of the individual from the collective, but also the solidarity individuals feel towards the collective.
What is the cultural glue that holds Europe together, she was asked in 2007, three years before the first Greek bailout: "Freedom in all its form[s]: freedom to express opinions, freedom to believe or not believe, freedom to trade and do business, the artist's freedom to shape his work according to his own ideas." Freedom means everything to Merkel, but possibly also nothing; it's impossible to tell.
Luckily, Angela Merkel isn't really an attempt to explain Merkel's true political convictions, but a biography about foreign policy and Merkel's political decision-making process – and in that respect Kornelius, whose career as a journalist has tailgated hers since they first met in 1989, proves an illuminating guide.
Born in 1954 to a Protestant pastor and an English teacher, Angela Merkel nee Kasner moved from Hamburg in the west to the village of Quitzow in the east when she was just a few years old: it bears repeating that by the time the Berlin Wall went down she was 35 years old. "The Merkel mystery," Kornelius writes, "is rooted in the failed east German republic."
She is revealed in this book as more culturally eastern European than we tend to think. Her Stasi file noted that while she viewed the Soviet Union as a dictatorship, she was also "enthusiastic about the Russian language and culture". In her early teens, she was selected as third-best Russian student in the GDR. My favourite of Kornelius's anecdotes is that she learned English not by secretly reading Orwell under the covers, but with the help of the British communist newspaper, the Morning Star.
References to Merkel's past are often used to smear her character, and for that reason, more respectable profiles focus on her training as a physicist or her religious household when explaining her political style. But Kornelius draws conclusions from her upbringing that go beyond the cliches. East Germany's progressive attitude to women at work, he suggests, may explain her distaste for "the tendency that certain male politicians have constantly to assert themselves", as she once put it. Her most influential and longest-serving adviser is a woman, and Kornelius claims she would have preferred a President Hillary Clinton to Obama, with whom she has a rather frosty relationship.
She showed little scruple abandoning her father figure Helmut Kohl, who had recognised her talent when she was still the press officer of the GDR's Democratic Awakening party and given her a first ministerial post in 1990. On 22 December 1999, in a newspaper comment piece, she called for her party to let go of the man who had led it for 25 years – a nice Christmas present.
Those 35 years to the east of the iron curtain may also hold a clue to her reluctance to take a lead during the eurozone crisis: the philosopher Jürgen Habermas has criticised her for "dozing on a volcano". Merkel's critics have said she does not feel passionately about European unity in the way her predecessors did, that it takes third place to her cultural yearning for Russia and her ideological admiration for America. But Kornelius argues convincingly that she has a clear sense of the value of European culture – it's just she believes sentimentality won't guarantee its survival. "I know what living in a collapsing system feels like," she has said, "and I don't want to go through that again."
This aversion to misty-eyed idealism, her refusal to score cheap goals, commands admiration; nothing demonstrates it better than when she was asked by a Der Spiegel journalist whether she was proud to be German. "I don't think the Germans are particularly bad or outstandingly wonderful. I am fond of kebabs and pizza, I think the Italians have a nicer alfresco cafe culture, and I think there is more sunshine in Switzerland." But of course likable people can make terrible decisions: in Merkel's case, a strategy of aping social democracy at home while demanding austerity of the EU may be at the centre of Europe's current social imbalance. Kornelius mentions this theory, but seems reluctant to explore it further. The problem with this "authorised biography" is the problem of any book by an active correspondent: too much frank talking is risky. Thus the praise drowns out the criticism.
So we have to make do with reading between the lines. At the start of her chancellorship, Kornelius writes, Merkel was keen to seek advice from external experts. More recently, however, she has allowed her circle of confidants to close around her. As a result, "she now rules largely unchallenged, particularly in foreign policy". It's all too reminiscent of a recent British prime minister, whose control of his backbenchers she so admired that on taking office in 2005 she dispatched her own head of staff for two-weeks' work experience in Downing Street. Just under a decade later, Tony Blair could perhaps teach Merkel another lesson: one disastrous foreign-policy decision can undo almost everything.
• Philip Oltermann is the author of Keeping Up with the Germans, published by Faber.
PoliticsAngela MerkelGermanyEuropePhilip Oltermanntheguardian.com © 2013 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds