How the world sees Greece
Greek-Romanian Relations Flourishing amidst Crisis Balkanalysis.com In 2011 alone it is estimated that 200 Greek-owned businesses were established in Romania, especially the Bucharest metropolitan region. According to the Athens Chamber of Commerce, the economic depression that has hit Greece, with a cumulative drop ... |
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Give Greece more time, says Germany's Steinbrueck Reuters BERLIN (Reuters) - Greece should be given more time to reform its economy and must not be thrown out of the euro zone, said Peer Steinbrueck, the man hoping to oust Angela Merkel as Germany's chancellor next year. Steinbrueck, named by the main ... |
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Greece sets out green tax, loan to buoy energy sector Bayoubuzz ATHENS (Reuters) - Greece, aiming to stave off a fresh energy crisis, plans to support its main electricity market operator through a temporary tax on renewable power producers and by extending an emergency loan, a senior official said on Friday. |
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 AFP | Greece in final stretch on austerity cuts AFP By John Hadoulis (AFP) – 5 minutes ago. ATHENS — Greece enters the final stretch on a tough new round of austerity cuts with the return of creditor auditors this week after a breakthrough in arduous talks between its political leaders. Senior ... Greece's 2013 budget to deepens cuts, sustain recession General Strike in Greece Says "We Won't Submit!" Greek Premier Sees Hope, but Only if Europe Helps |
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The country needs more than a bailout. It needs a revolutionary change in its hidebound social structures
Here's the news from Spain last week, in case anybody missed it: huge cuts in government spending; higher taxes; biting austerity; unemployment higher than in Greece; big and growing demonstrations in Madrid; violent clashes with police; and in Catalonia, a rising clamour for secession. The only hope on the horizon takes the ambiguous form of an expected financial rescue package, with still more austerity strings attached, from the richer countries of the north.
Such help, however, will offer no more than temporary relief unless Spain addresses a deeper problem that it can only sort out on its own. It's a problem that has a decisive impact on the country's capacity to remain a competitive global player and that will be terribly difficult to solve because it is embedded in the national DNA.
During the 14 years I've lived in the country, I've talked with many Spaniards about this. But the most forthright and revealing group has been those who work abroad – in London, Holland, Germany, the US. They all miss the sunshine, the food, the strong family bonds, the warm, easy Spanish way of living. They also share – and here is the thing – an exasperation with the Spanish way of work.
I'm thinking, say, of two young men, in their early 30s, who moved to London six years ago, before the economic crash. They've done well. One, who started out as a waiter, is now the operations manager of a successful restaurant chain. "To have got ahead the way I have in London I'd need an uncle with good connections. I didn't, so I left."
The other works in the digital video industry. He had entered some work for a prize, but a number of prestigious British companies were running against him so he had no expectation of winning. Yet win he did. On pure merit. The notion of an unconnected unknown like him winning an equivalent prize in Spain was, he said, unthinkable.
The lessons from these two stories, entirely typical of Spaniards abroad, are clear: the Spanish are not inherently idle; the labour market in Spain does not sufficiently reward talent and hard work. The Spanish disease that both these young men said they had fled was "amiguismo" –"friendism" – a system where one gets ahead by who one knows.
Reams of opinion columns in the Spanish press in recent months have pointed to amiguismo in the political classes. Which is no doubt largely true but fails to acknowledge that corrupt or lazy or incompetent politicians do not inhabit a closed ecosystem but behave in a manner in keeping with the way society operates at large.
It is true that Spain had enjoyed a sustained economic boom for the best part of two decades. The usual explanation is that the country benefited from fluid access to cheap northern European credit. But there is a little more to it than that. There are also some mightily well-run and successful Spanish companies, such as the multinational retail clothing colossus Inditex, which owns Zara, or, like it or hate it, the Banco Santander. Yet I am afraid that these are the exceptions and not the rule.
I recently asked a boss at a well-known Spanish company what percentage of the 300 or so middle-class staff under him did their jobs to the best of their abilities. Despondent, he replied: "The number is low." The deeper sin lies in an institutionalised Spanish system where both the financial and moral incentives to work well are undercut by the perception that if you do not know the right people there is little point in giving the best of yourself at work.
Where does all this come from? It might be tempting to dwell on the peculiarly closed-minded, our-fate-is-in-God's-hands brand of Catholicism that reigned in Spain for half a millennium but I think I'll stick for now to the prevailing educational system. Going to school in Spain is a pretty deadly business. The emphasis is all on learning by rote. Creativity and curiosity are not part of the package. School is not, remotely, fun. Work, the idea is instilled ominously early on, cannot be much fun either.
I have a large Spanish family, with 25 first cousins on my Madrileña mother's side alone. About 15 years ago, when the Spanish economy was buzzing, a male cousin came to visit me in Washington, where I then worked. I told him one night at a bar that I enjoyed my job. He said nothing in reply but, as I discovered two days later, he'd been mulling over what I said, deeply troubled. "What you told me the other night," he said, "about enjoying your job… you weren't serious, were you?"
Here was an employed, friendly, middle-class 36-year-old Spaniard and he had never, ever had wind of the notion that someone might feel enthusiasm for what he did for a living. For my cousin, as for so many Spaniards, work is a necessary evil, a nuisance to be dispensed with as briskly as possible before turning to the serious business of life – drinking, nibbling tapas, hanging out with friends until the small hours.
This is all very well, even admirable from a certain philosophical point of view. Nor did it seem to matter very much while the Spanish bubble grew. But it is dangerously infantile in the present circumstances. Now that the bubble has burst, people's approach to work matters a great deal. The brightest, the boldest or the most restless young people go abroad for money and fulfilment; the rest, half of whom are unemployed, stay at home – baffled, desperate, increasingly angry, kicking out at government and being kicked back.
The government does carry its share of the blame. But it is a symptom – a big, glaring symptom, for sure – and not the root cause. What's needed if Spain is not to sink gradually back into a sort of bucolic, early 20th-century Mediterranean poverty is a revolution across the board in attitudes to work. Like it or not, the system has to be overhauled and replaced by one where the rules are fair and merit is rewarded. Everywhere.
Catalonia is a much more productive region than Andalucía, as the independentists will never cease to remind you, but the difference as far as amiguismo goes is only one of degree. There is much talk now of a huge financial rescue plan from the north. Good. It will bring much-needed relief. But it will be no more than a passing cure so long as the corruption of amiguismo continues to stain Spain's otherwise warm and delightful soul, hampering the country's capacity to compete in the grown-up world.
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At a time when the country needs them, the party seems intent on self-destruction
Anyone thinking of buying the current leftwing line that the Liberal Democrats are a party of the right should have been at their conference. Concern for the poor and greenery dominated the fringe. The activists were typical Observer readers: kind and thoughtful people. Ministers made sarcastic asides about the Conservatives to cheer up the base and pretended, without conviction, that they were "plebs" fighting the Tory toffs in the corridors of Whitehall. "I float between Labour and Lib Dem," Steve Coogan told the delegates. "But never the Tories. I'd rather pull my own eyes out than vote Tory."
So would most of the Brighton crowd. But there they were in a coalition with Conservatives they despised, scorned by former friends and missing several million voters, who now regret ever listening to them.
Socrates said that living with the male libido was like being chained to a madman. The Liberals feel much the same about living with the Tories. How can it be that people who went into politics to help the unfortunate and the unrepresented have ended up supporting an austerity programme that is grinding down the disadvantaged without bringing the promised recovery? Their big reason for joining the coalition – their grand justification for the alliance with conservatism – was to enact constitutional reform. In this, they have failed utterly. They blew their chance to change the voting system and lost their fight to democratise the House of Lords. Satirists should relish their position. After decades of pounding the pavements, the Liberals are in power for the first time since 1945. Yet there will be less constitutional reform in the 2010 parliament than in any parliament in living memory. They haven't even removed hereditary peers from Westminster.
You can hear their disorientation in Nick Clegg's language. It has degenerated into a cliche-infested jibber-jabber in which words no longer connect to cogent thoughts. Just before the 2010 general election, he told the Observer that Britain would be hit by waves of "Greek-style unrest" if the new government tried to push through draconian spending cuts. Now he warns that Britain would share the fate of Greece if it did not accept austerity. As the conference began, Clegg said of his attempt to persuade parents to give money from their pension pots to their children: "This is part and parcel of something which I think most people agree with, which is that as we fill in the black hole in the public finances we have also got to make sure that we do not put Humpty Dumpty back together again and make the same mistakes, that we rewire the British economy and make it fairer and give people more opportunities."
Only men who no longer think before they speak refuse to acknowledge contradictions or mix four metaphors into one sentence. Clegg does not talk to make an argument but to pass the time and fill the silence. His speeches are like an overcooked stew, whose ingredients have boiled down to mush. You swallow them without tasting them.
There are two ways of looking at the collapse of British liberalism Clegg is presiding over. The political journalist tries to predict the Liberal Democrats' performance at the next election. The rest of us wonder if anyone will mourn the party's passing.
The scale of its collapse seems vast at present. Peter Kellner of YouGov says that on current polls the parliamentary party will be reduced from 57 seats to 10. Of the 1.6 million Labour-leaning or otherwise leftish voters who supported the Lib Dems in 2010, 1.4 million have abandoned the party. Of the 1.8 million Lib Dem voters with no fixed allegiance, 1.5 million have gone. Kellner acknowledges that you cannot be certain that leftwing voters in marginal seats won't support the Lib Dems again if it is the only means of stopping the Tory candidate at the next election.
I cannot see the future but wonder if the old appeals for tactical voting will wash. The left can hate as viciously as the right. The left can indeed hate along with the right. As with Tony Blair before them, Liberal Democrats in general and Nick Clegg in particular are on the receiving end of abuse from both sides. I cannot see leftwing voters supporting them to stop the Tories again, when to their minds the Lib Dems are as bad as the Tories. More importantly, Liberal Democrat politicians share the same doubts.
Until I went to the Brighton conference, I thought the answer to the party's problem was simple: make Vince Cable leader, win back leftish supporters and save a few seats. But when you speak to the party's leading figures in private, you learn that they will do anything to stop Cable. He is vain, they say, so egotistical and ambitious that he cannot work with his colleagues. Whether their allegations are true does not matter. Because they are believed, Cable will be fought and, if his enemies have their way, defeated.
Even though I did not vote for them, I accept that the implosion of the Liberal Democrats will damage the causes of civil liberties and accountable government. Even though I think the euro is a machine that destroys democracies and livelihoods, I accept that Britain needs one mainstream party that makes the case for the European Union. I'll miss the Liberal Democrats if they slink off into obscurity, in other words, and so may you.
Perhaps they will have the chance to redeem themselves. If the Liberals' big reason for entering coalition was constitutional reform, the Conservatives went into government to impose an austerity programme they believed would restore the public finances and allow growth to resume. To date, the Conservatives' failure has been as great as the Liberal Democrats' failure. The 2010 coalition may be remembered as a bad marriage in which neither party got what it wanted. If stagnation continues into 2013, if – even of its own terms – austerity proves to be self-defeating and continues to deplete the tax base the Treasury needs to reduce the deficit, then the Liberals would have an excuse to cut their chains and seek to force a general election. They would be acting in the national interest. They would be giving the voters a chance to speak their minds. They may even save themselves a few seats.
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Her Majesty has been on the throne 60 years, but all we know is that she likes corgis and hates Abu Hamza. Our columnist secretly acquires more of her opinions
Something confusing happened last week. The BBC security correspondent, Frank Gardner, went on the radio and accidentally told people something that the Queen had once thought. Apparently, it's against protocol to reveal any of the Queen's thoughts or feelings, and, if she ever shares them with you, at an informal dinner, garden party or knighting, you have to take the secret to your grave as if she's shown you her donkey ears. The BBC immediately and unreservedly apologised in obvious terror of the sovereign's wrath. This, in turn, seems odd because, by making it so clear that she'd be angry, they accidentally let the whole nation in on another of her top secret royal emotions.
What makes this even odder is that the monarchical opinion that Gardner reported is so deeply unworthy of remark: he said that she'd been "pretty upset" that Abu Hamza couldn't be arrested when he was such an obvious ne'er-do-well. In terms of controversy, this is on about the same level as "What a pity it rained on the jubilee weekend" or "That Louis Walsh seems like an odd fellow."
She's been on the throne for six decades, but we know so little about her: she likes corgis and horses, she hates Abu Hamza, and she hates people knowing that she hates Abu Hamza. I don't quite understand why. Maybe she thinks Abu Hamza is really popular. Maybe she's scared that the monarchy will be overturned if the public realise how much she despises their beloved Hamza. Maybe she thinks he's a rap star or something. Maybe she meant Monty Panesar.
I suppose the idea is that the monarch should be above political views – that must be why Prince Charles is working so hard to get all his out of his system in time. This is a democracy and so, if our unelected head of state is associated with any opinion more contentious than regret at a tsunami, people will begin to suspect that she's influencing policy. This case is a particularly juicy opportunity for republicans to moan because Gardner claimed that she communicated her displeasure at AH's continued liberty to the home secretary. That's practically ordering his arrest, they could argue. "Off with his head!" says the Queen. The fact that everyone then ignores her is hardly an argument in favour of the continued funding of the civil list.
But I think the main reason for the presumed palatial anger is that the Queen's opinions, if made public, are likely to disappoint everyone. While they're still secret, monarchists can believe that Her Majesty's head is full of wise and noble thoughts, that she gives pertinent and timely advice to stressed premiers and provides continuity and perspective. Meanwhile, her detractors can assume she's a Nazi. But the truth is likely to lie somewhere disappointingly and blandly in between – as exemplified by her views on Abu Hamza.
I decided to test my hypothesis and have spent the past few days investigating. I've been exploring the secret bars where footmen go to drink. Armed with a truth serum and the offer of unlimited Dubonnets, I've been quizzing disgraced butlers, dismissed bodyguards, ladies too long in waiting and former ambassadors from failed states. I've made a pass at the Dowager Duchess of Carnarvon and I've posed as someone offering to tarmac the King of Greece's drive. I was worried I'd be exposed but none of these people has ever seen Peep Show. And I have now compiled an exhaustive list of Her Majesty the Queen's secret opinions:
Boris Johnson is refreshingly honest
"He's not like the other politicians, is he?" the Queen apparently recently said of London's ubiquitous mayor. "He doesn't take himself too seriously." Her Majesty believes that politics has become too much about presentation and spin and that it makes a nice change to see someone a bit scruffy, who's happy to make a joke, in a position of power. She has also ventured the view that this means that it's OK for him to have affairs if he wants to.
John Humphrys interrupts people too much
An avid listener to the Today programme, what the Queen has uniquely pointed out is that John Humphrys doesn't listen properly to the people he's interviewing. "Why doesn't he let them say their piece, even if he disbelieves them!?" Her Majesty shouts at the radio every morning over the din of her breakfast bagpiper.
Tim Henman is a choker
While the tennis star's style of play greatly impressed Her Majesty, she believed that, when it came to key moments in high-pressure matches, he lacked the focus and drive to push for victory. The Queen's view was that the British player's comparatively affluent middle-class background had deprived him of the hunger that spurred his rivals on to success.
Ted Heath wasn't gay but just sort of asexual
The Queen doesn't go along with the theory that Ted Heath must have been gay. "I think sexuality is much more of a spectrum," Her Majesty often says. But Mr Heath "was different" and showed no sign of fancying either the Queen or Prince Philip which was apparently "almost unheard-of for a political leader until about 1982".
Canned laughter ruins a sitcom
"I don't need to be told when to laugh," the Queen often remarks. She thinks it's a terrible shame when perfectly good comedy programmes are ruined by intrusive and patronising laughter tracks. "You don't get audience laughter on the classic comedies like The Good Life and Upstairs, Downstairs."
Mineral water is a waste of money
The Queen never ceases to be amazed by the amount of money people waste on mineral water. "You can drink it out of the tap – what's the problem?" she has often been heard to moan to the Earl of Wessex who is seldom without an accompanying Volvic.
Terry Venables should be England manager
"I don't understand why we didn't just stick with that – it seemed to be going reasonably well," the Queen often complains when her footman brings her the latest England result, embroidered on a napkin. "All this chopping and changing is confusing. Why don't we just make him do it permanently?"
If global warming exists, how come Balmoral is so draughty?
"We could do with a bit of global warming up here, I tell you!" the Queen repeatedly jokes. "Talk to me about global warming when the Land Rover is stuck in six feet of snow." It's believed that Prince Charles did just that for several hours last January.
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