SYRIZA has promised to cancel the austerity measures Greece adopted as part of the bailout package and renegotiate its debt obligations. This could trigger a confrontation with Athens’ lenders in Europe and the IMF, potentially resulting in a Greek exit (or “Grexit”) from the eurozone. Prime Minister Samaras is playing up this risk. “We shed blood to take the word ‘Grexit’ away from the mouths of foreigners, and SYRIZA is bringing this word back to their mouths,” he said in a speech late last year.
It seems Samaras is getting help in this campaign from Berlin. By 2012, Merkel had decided Greece must be kept in the eurozone to mitigate the risk of a “contagion” effect that could hasten the departure of other members and threaten the common European currency. This position implied Greece had some leverage, because its exit would hurt Germany and other eurozone members, as well. Now, according to the German news magazine Der Spiegel, Merkel appears willing to accept a Greek exit, and her government is preparing for that possibility. Officially, of course, Berlin’s policy hasn’t changed: It wants to keep the eurozone intact. But it’s hard to read the unnamed “German officials” who spoke to Der Spiegel and not conclude that Germany wanted to send a message to SYRIZA that Berlin will call its bluff if Athens demands onerous concessions or scuttles austerity.
Tsipras publicly scoffs at the possibility that Greece will be forced to leave the eurozone. “We are through with the possibility of a Grexit, and there is only a Samaras-exit,” he has said—a nifty bit of sloganeering that has failed to soothe the nerves of Greeks who worry a SYRIZA victory will result in tumult between Greece and its creditors. Tsipras has tried to lessen those fears. The closer he gets to power, the softer his rhetoric has become. Only six months ago, says Economides, it looked like a SYRIZA victory would result in a Grexit. “Now they’ve talked their way out of that corner, and they’re leaving it open that they’ll do their utmost to stay in the eurozone,” he says.
We have rarely felt sorry for what the Germans suffered at the end of World War II, in part because the Germans have done a superb job of feeling sorry for themselves. Most Germans in 1945 (and long afterward) believed that their own suffering freed them from any obligation to ponder what Germans had done unto others. Historians, therefore, have hesitated to exploit this material, for fear of seeming to endorse the repellent spectacle of German self-pity. The distinguished British historian Richard Bessel, however, understands the difference between suffering and atonement, and with “Germany 1945” he has produced a sober yet powerful account of the terrible year he calls the “hinge” of the 20th century in Europe.
The decisive blow came in January, when a Red Army invasion force, nearly four million strong, poured into eastern provinces that would soon cease forever to be German. (The Anglo-American invasion from the west paled by comparison.) They killed with dreadful efficiency. German military deaths that month exceeded the total wartime losses of either the United States or Britain. Millions of civilians fled in terror from what they had long been told were savage Slavic hordes. Hitler’s government, deep in denial, did little to ease the refugees’ distress. Nor did it permit the orderly surrender of lost territories. While some soldiers and civilians enthusiastically embraced orders to fight to the death, the rest were kept in line by roving SS death squads that hanged deserters from lampposts. But the formidable Wehrmacht was hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned.
Bessel leaves no doubt about who was to blame for the suffering: Hitler, who chose to destroy his country rather than surrender and face defeat. For the German people — many bombed or chased out of their homes, all at the mercy of the occupying armies — this was the legacy of the Third Reich: not conquest and glory, nor genocide and guilt, but betrayal and ruin, rubble and grief.
Although the Allies faced a tough job in imposing order, one thing they needlessly feared, as it turned out, was resistance from dead-enders. Rumors of a “Werewolf” underground proved groundless (contrary to the claims of those who argued a few years ago that postwar Germany was just as bad as postwar Iraq). The occupiers were surprised to find a docile people, preoccupied with finding shelter, food and missing family members.
With death all around, the invaders sought vengeance. Soviet soldiers pillaged and raped the most, but the French were not much better. The British and Americans, with fewer grievances, committed fewer atrocities. While Germans resented the inevitable injustices of Allied denazification programs, when the most prominent surviving Nazis went on trial in Nuremberg in November 1945, few could summon any sympathy for these pathetic men who had led their nation into the abyss.
If you have a chance and an inclination to look at a rarely looked at part of World War II, the book is worth reading. If you don’t want to read the book, you may want to check out these photos posted to The Atlantic’s In Focus blog.
The Germans are not yet openly angry. That would be out of character in a people who have, since the second world war, been eager to atone for the past and be good European partners. In one recent poll, 34% of Germans even said they empathised with the wrath of the southern Europeans. But the mood is shifting. The southerners may see Germany as forcing excessive austerity on them and showing insufficient solidarity, but Germans have a different view.
First, they feel they have already shown solidarity. Almost a quarter of a century after the fall of the Berlin Wall they still pay a solidarity tax to eastern Germany. Some also transfer taxes to weaker German states such as Bremen. Many conclude that, once in place, solidarity ceases being voluntary and instead becomes a yoke. They also bear much of the risk of euro bail-outs, even though a study released this week by the European Central Bank showed that the average German household has less wealth than the average Spanish, Italian and Cypriot one (though this is partly because German households tend to contain fewer adults and are more likely to be in rented accommodation).
Second, they argue that Germany recognised a decade ago that it was not competitive and undertook painful reforms that are now paying off. The crisis countries should follow suit. And third, Germans think the euro crisis was largely caused by rule-breaking (even by Germany itself), which must not be repeated. As one diplomat puts it, “solidarity is important, but it should follow rules. It is not just ad hoc giving.”
A rough calculation of current rates of soil degradation suggests we have about 60 years of topsoil left. Some 40% of soil used for agriculture around the world is classed as either degraded or seriously degraded – the latter means that 70% of the topsoil, the layer allowing plants to grow, is gone. Because of various farming methods that strip the soil of carbon and make it less robust as well as weaker in nutrients, soil is being lost at between 10 and 40 times the rate at which it can be naturally replenished. Even the well-maintained farming land in Europe, which may look idyllic, is being lost at unsustainable rates.
Not a lot of these cities are designed around the automobile. Here is what makes Vienna such a great place to live.
Austria’s most populous city – Vienna – has won the title of the world’s best city for quality of life since 2009. It is also one of eight European cities to make the top 10 list, showing the region’s dominance in the survey.
Vienna is the cultural, economic, and political center of the country. It has the highest per capita GDP among all Austrian cities at over $55,000. Vienna’s ability to transform old infrastructure into modern dwellings won the city the 2010 United Nations urban planning award for improving the living conditions of its residents. Under a multimillion-dollar program, the city refurbished more than 5,000 buildings with nearly 250,000 apartments. Vienna is also the world’s No. 1 destination for conferences, drawing five million tourists a year — equivalent to three tourists for every resident.